"manus" poems
A thought sometimes forms
I live too much
yet I do too little.
Woken at strange hours,
never asleep.
Rapt in raps
or wrapped in riddles
Chained to links
or hammered to handle
stubbed to bone
Mens et
Manus
There is time yet, I swear
To flourish
To dream
To make
To be
To do
To create
Will I?
We'll see
There's time yet to tell
Be yourself, they say
The best you you can be
But once more— Will I have time
To edit
I live less
I do less
Portfolio: empty
or at least, locked away.
Excitement too.
Blank slate
Blank palette
Is there any paint?
Can I truly make
excitement saturate?
Will I be able to place
value as I see fit?
Can the world be hewn slimmer, slicker
Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger
Tis daft I think, to amuse such a notion
But not necessarily so daft to be wrong
Emerson called it misunderstood,
Shaw found it unreasonable
But ay, theres the rub
That bed once made, must be lain in and
all dreams which might be had are alone not enough
Bloom effects don't work outside the movies.
Ideas are trash, these are recession times
Deflations made them a farthing a dozen
Started 10.03.11
Unfinished
D.B. Guy
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:57 AM UTC
The motion of your body
in the throes of getting through to me
are a dance I'd like to fold up
and put in my pocket.
The hinge at the wrist
and a nonchalant manus
looking to the west waiting
for an answer...
I find wondrous waterfalls
falling from the tips
of every finger
cascading.
There's a world within your grasp
as you transfer your temple between
the infinite bubbles of your surrounding space.
Your eyes saccade softly yet swiftly
as they envision worlds from other dimensions that I can only visit through your woven webs.
I will lay in them and swing
as a hammock in the summertime.
We will weave them together
as our phenomena emerge
into sacred universal patterns.
Our contents will thaw when
the sun starts to stay longer,
they will melt and flow
as our crystal lattice structures
ceaselessly shatter and
recrystallize into geometric flowers.
We are dancing rocks
We are dancing rocks
who have learned
how to love and —
Now we are aflame!
We are licks of carnelian
shifting to a roaring citrine.
Now we are jade flowers floating
to tropical turquoise waterways...
Kyanite kites flying into
deepening oceans of lapis lazuli.
Gold flecks
explode into purple
as our eyes flutter open into
bursts of bright white feathers.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 10:20 AM UTC
"I am a poet"
That is what our ego tells us
What we tell others
What others desire for self
What we desire to hear
So they tell you that you are
Quid quo pro
We stroke one another
Manus manum lavat
When I die I hope "they'll" say
"A poet has left us"
But then as now
I will not know it
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 12:37 AM UTC
your cephalic is now distal from my axial
posterior when you used to be anterior
missing our deep talks, instead of superficial ones
your orbital region all but glances at my mammaries
tilting your mental up and away from me
ignoring my lateral buccal
I miss our manus's clenched together at the median
your pollex rubbing my digital
palmer's together
my thoracic lunges at you
trying to grip onto you using all my pericardium
my umbilical region hurts
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 12:07 PM UTC
Satietatem potare dulci nectare tua desiderium ego
Ad nos transeat, usque mane
Nostra corpora convol
Corpora nostra lusibus
Sol ortus, Sitis commoratur
Amorem vivere devora tua suavita
Vitae caelestis
Nostra ad et aut angelus diaboli
Quod viget, vitae singulis nobis,
Retorta peccatorum gaudium de salute nos
Corpora *** carnis luxuriam
Tenebrae concupiscentiis saginatus
Dolorem voluptatem servus
Impium impium fames
Sanctus diversitas peccatorum
Ita et nos, in manus nostras et amore peccatorum nos
Nos ad unum corpus est cor
Translation Latin to English
I drink my fill of sweet nectar of your desire
To pass to us until morning
Our bodies roll
Our bodies dance
The sun rises, thirst lingers
Love, live, eat your sweetness
heavenly life
Our call to the devil or an angel
That is active, the life of each of us,
Twisted sins, the joy of our salvation
Bodies with carnal lust
Dark desires fed
Pain and pleasure slave
wicked, wicked hunger
Holy diversity of sins
Even so we, in our hands, and the love of our sins
We are one body and heart
~Wes Noneya
My Latin isn't the best but I gave it a go. I like both versions.
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 5:33 PM UTC
lover, take my hand
let me love you inside and out
with your flaws and fears and faults
how could this be wrong
everything is telling me this is right
my heart tells me you are the one
rock my world to its very core
they say the problem is we are too young
my heart says we are old enough to be in love
however hard it might have been for us
God or gods must have planned soulmates
it feels like we were always meant to be
be my lover, be my one, i love you
you who are so beautiful
the moon pales in comparison
come, hold my hand, my lover
give me your heart and i'll offer you mine
let us be alone together, tonight
Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 2:50 PM UTC
I’m not a poet,
But a painter.
I paint pictures with my words
That Rembrandt could not.
I’m not a poet,
But a singer.
I sing out my heart on paper
So my voice is silent but not my words
I’m not a poet,
But an actor.
The paper is my scene
And the manus is written with my tears
I’m not an artist,
But you.
The side of you you never knew,
So I’ll have to wake you up.
Mar 29, 2010
Mar 29, 2010 at 3:56 PM UTC
Jeg vekker verden for tiden går: våkn opp
Vi kan være borte i morgen: stå opp
Jeg vekker verden, fordi jeg vil gi bort det jeg har,
I morgen kan vi miste den gaven
For hver dag er vi nærmere slutten
Som kan være starten av en ny begynnelse.
Så finn det stedet, din mening, din egen bølge,
Gi bort hjertet, gi bort alt,
Elsk,respekter andre, drøm,
Vær kul, vis verden at du er noen
Dag etter dag, tiden stopper ikke,
Jeg lever og vil oppleve hvert minutt.
Verdens farger i mitt blod,
Folkets **** med morgendagens luft,
Jeg skal vekke dere: Carpe Diem.
Stå opp med ordene på tunga, jeg lever
Fra nå av, ikke fra i morgen, fra nå av,
Har jeg ikke tid til å kaste tiden bort,
Skriv livets manus selv, og visk den aldri ut.
Alle har en vei å gå, alle er noen,
Og med hevet hode bærer de stolt sitt kors,
De kan lære deg å tro, vise deg vei.
Ikke vær redd for å kjempe for tilværelsen,
ikke vær redd for nederlag.
Jeg vekker verden, det er min vei,
Mitt oppdrag, min mening.
Så jeg sier nå til dere alle:
“Opplev hver dag, og bruk din gave.”
Og hvis du tror på kjærlighet,
Sørg for at den er gjensidig,
Sammen stå opp og se alltid samme vei,
Vær sammen til døden skiller dere ad.
DET er gaven.
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 8:46 AM UTC
i am tired. i have been cleaning,
solving sudoku and crossword,
writing, and playing my violin
with nobody around to witness
the way my hands are never still
i want them to stop shaking. once
in motion they never seem to listen
to me when i say "it's over, you can
rest", instead they find new ways
to involuntarily release my anger.
my shoulders are aching. i cannot
stretch and reach my toes anymore.
i packed my bags today. truthfully,
i wish i could just hold you again
(even if my arms tell otherwise).
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 10:10 AM UTC
These frail mane still smells of coffin nail.
Hands..Struggling with metacarpus to trade the manus ..
stretch. scratch. Twirl.
Orbs: wide and wrathful:
Fluctuating the pupils
left and right
| Mad mad |
Concerntating on these screams..
screams into le noir lughole .
THERE!
I grasp your fluttering wings.
Oh you flutterer !
fluttering on C.
Fluttering hushed ..
Fluttering hasten..
fluttering to strive for nooks and blood.
Oh you flutterer!
erroneous target thee choosed.
Smash. Squeeze.
Alas!
now ease into mine ichor palms.
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 1:16 PM UTC
PRESIDENT TRUMP AND MALCOLM TURNBULL
WILL NOW MEET AT LAST
WILL THE PHONE CALL THEY HAD
BRING BACK A CONVERSATION FROM THE PAST
NORTH KOREA WILL BE ON THE TABLE
THE MANUS ISLAND DEAL AS WELL
CAN THESE TWO GIANTS AGREE
WELL ONLY TIME WILL TELL
BUT ONE THING WILL BE FOR SURE
PRESIDENT TRUMP SHOOTS FROM THE HIP
PRIME MINISTER MALCOLM TURNBULL
SHOULD ENJOY HIS COLOURFUL TRIP
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 6:12 PM UTC