"maturely" poems
and what were roses. Perfume?for i do
forget…or mere Music mounting unsurely
twilight
but here were something more maturely
childish,more beautiful almost than you.
Yet if not flower,tell me softly who
be these haunters of dreams always demurely
halfsmiling from cool faces,moving purely
with muted steps,yet somewhat proudly too—
are they not ladies,ladies of my dreams
justly touching roses their fingers whitely
live by?
or better,
queens,queens laughing lightly
crowned with far colors,
thinking very much
of nothing and whom dawn loves most to touch
wishing by willows,bending upon streams?
9.7k
~~~
“To exist is to change, to change is to mature, to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly.” Henri Bergson
well in that case,
I’m either the most immature teen here,
or Rip Van Winkle
the re-creation process is six, nearly seven,
decades long (you thot days, ha, no way),
can’t recall the last name
I called myself
the delving, the researching, the forgetting,
the fifty first dates of no short term memory,
the checkdown, throwback Thursday of
did I write that?
no recollect, the pretense of
prehensile strength to touch
you and me simultaneously
might, could be true,
if you claim I authored it,
ok with me and all that
life taught me this,
the one who oft hangs around
very young kids
learns a lot,
and soon recognizes
maturity indeed endless
but not senseless
just a poem-of-the-day process
indeed
every sense says the minute difference
between this morning and this approaching midnight,
an opportunity to grow up, stand straighter, uprighter,
write down my failures one more time,
cause that is the sterling hallmark impressed upon
thyself, ourselves,
that is genuine maturity,
the courageous wisdom to start all over again
the clock has transgressed,
moving past
the 12:00am digits,
which for cause
makes me giddy,
it’s permission to write a new one,
of course,
maturely thinking I still got one within,
a newbie, an aged day-old brand new baby,
a poem,
of course
god bless, I’m all grown n’ growled up,
with wisdom to know I don’t got nada,
but own the immature youthful courage of maturity,
to keep on trying, endlessly,
being your obedient-servant
~~~
*p.s. this is kind of love poem of thanksgivings,
a love poem with no misgivings,
a thank you for the fragments of sharing -
hold so dear,
the best reason to mature,
the best reason to change,
the best reason to write
right now, here comes the mojo
my newest oldest friend,
reminding for the last and first time
that I’m all growed,
using the bigliest words I’ve known
to say baby, hey baby,
good night good morning
write us a poem,
a thank you note,
from one who blessedly forgets his name,
day in and year out*
For that guy,
you, that ancient kid,
That poet-in-retrograde
so rewrite the title, a refresh,
are you immature enough to write?
1:12am
~for the crew~
Apr 18, 2019
Apr 18, 2019 at 1:28 AM UTC
the child of the child of my woman,
cries in the night,
rooming next door,
down the hall
and
he is
all children that cry in the night,
but he is
more mine
by right of quantity
numerous are the kisses lavished,
this biannual visit upon,
his four year old
oversized head,
(so full of 'bains')
his undersized,
protuberanced belly body,
a combo making him
no longer baby,
nor a grownup,
both states,
he denies accurately,
maturely in a wobbly voice
of utter certainty,
but lacking the adjectives
of what lies between,
he debates his state thoughtfully,
until distracted by other
more pressing matters of state
he is boy, little but vociferous,
quiet, pensive, his head a weapon
of...confusion and certainty that
being four years old,
he must perforce be
permanently
in skeptical awe of the world
this is the best position ever,
he has ascertained,
to filter and behold anything,
whatever newness arrives,
which is constant,
streaming and unending
until new is
fully digested, analyzed, and classified,
as if he were
a zoologist in
a wild and untamed land
only certain of what he knows
with perfect certainty,
he consults with me still,
"you kidding?"
such a sophisticated analytic interrogatory,
wise in the ways of grownups,
who, prone to deceive gleefully
his very
suspecting mind,
so much so,
they must be challenged and
rebuffed all too frequently
he cries in the night,
normal tears of discomfort,
physical or mental,
I cannot tell,
for his father
his parental hearing
more practiced, refined,
has preceded me,
such,
as it should be,
and I am dispatched back
to my 3:00am bed,
left only to ink
contemplative ruminations
on the state and nation
of being four...
and sixty,
and still uncertain, even more
than the little boy
of wizened age of annualized four,
the child of the child of my woman,
on
what is real, what is kidding,
in a quest unending
to better ascertain,
the state of my own being
and the transitory nature of
everything
all of what is thought certain,
falls aside,
under the withering,
unwavering,
critique of
"you kidding?"
and in this we are
more kin
than if our blood was
physically shared
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 4:24 AM UTC
He grappled with his ****
sure attitude. True, it was hard
work, and he could have used a hand.
Jobs like this don’t come
along often. If he shot
his chance moaning
and stroking
the ego of his new boss, he might pre-maturely
lose the momentum he was building.
As he got closer and closer
to finishing, he realized
he was proud of his member-
ship at this new company. It was a great feeling.
After he came
to complete his work he was relieved
to have done this one,
on his own.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 4:51 PM UTC
Passion in society is presently temporary
They say passion is an emotion
A state of mind
A stage
A honeymoon
Star-crossed
Blinded
Struck by love
Intense, yet fleeting
But passion used to mean
Forever.
Love, at a distance
All encompassing disease
Debilitating
Weakening
It started from your heart
Branched out
Reached and spread with force
Until your entire being
Everything you were
Was consumed.
You were a sick man
If you were struck with passion
You had reached the end
You were hopelessly, and honestly absorbed
When passion meant forever
And marriage,
Used to be more for practicality
Than passion
To build a life
Maturely
To drive the kids to soccer practice,
Pay the electric bill,
To be together every day
With another person
Left no room
For *** on the kitchen floor
With the kids to walk in on
It did not permit
The ripping of clothing
When you'd only have to throw it in the wash
With a ballerina costume later
The real test of a relationship is not distance
Sneaking away in the night
Stealing kisses in the dark
Sneaking away
When it's exciting,
The real test is the everyday,
The monotonous aspects
Living with someone
Noticing things you never did before
It's terrifying because you might start to see
The passion pass
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 8:16 PM UTC
Well this is great
My pre-mature heartbreak
But at least now I see
We are never going to be
I thought after once
I would learn to stay away
But then we started talking
And I knew I couldn’t stay
I tried to get you back
Back to our old standings
Then you dropped
That small-mighty phrase
But it’ll be ok
My heart’s hidden away
Wearing its duct tape mask
Feeling the same pain
So now I see
Pre-maturely
Now I see
I can’t give up on we
Mar 30, 2011
Mar 30, 2011 at 8:15 PM UTC
A man and a woman come across,
If the man displays his ability.......
Start the ideal circle of human life,
If woman takes interest in him......
They both woo & ****** each other,
If succeed they make happy love.....
That woman after getting pregnant,
Rolls back into herself till delivery....
Whenever a baby is born anywhere,
It grows up groomed by its parents...
As a baby it is so helpless on its own,
It generally makes a noise for itself..
Then the human becomes a little kid,
Innocence filled face looks so divine.
A teenager sprouts non-visible wings,
The human realizes that it's special..
Teenaged souls fly across all lines,
Disregarding any type of border...
Entangling cobwebs of this world,
Try to limit all the human souls....
Disentanglement is a taxing job,
Not all teenagers grow freely.....
They step into adulthood,
And often so maturely......
They just succeed in love,
Start circle yet again.......
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
This is the time of your life!
To do your deed to the country you love
For the promise of a prosperous land
A brighter future for the nation
Our pledge for a credible leader
Guide the citizen with religion faith
Lead our life with nobility, integrity and honesty
In the present day, Future and the hereafter..
vote ! dont lose your voice
Dont you keep your grievances at heart
Let your voice be heard...
So do not lose your vote... VOTE!
To win or to lose
To die or to live
Winning or losing is part and parcel
Of a COMPETITION...
Contestants please play fair
Voters stay calm and cool..
Try not to spread evil and hatred among us..
Leading us all to chaos..
Also Try not to remain silent
when given the right to choose
Play democracy! Play fair!
Chaos may end up bad..
If we do not maturely contest
For who’s wrong and who’s right...
Chaos may end up a disaster, a massacre...
Explainable chaotic phenomena
If we do not curb our lust for greed..
Campaign maturely for Malaysia..
We despise chaos and fights
Votes are the voices of people
Let us all do our bit to Malaysia
Stop this Chaos!!
Silence the words of slanders and hates...
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 5:39 AM UTC
maturely premature thoughts preexist inside
waiting to explode and marvel
at the symmetry of our meetings,
asymmetrical
incongruities.
unthought veils bearing everything
mysterious. magic rarely happens
when eyes open slowly for the
first time. life hatefully
spiteful, vengefully
insipid, unknowing
uncaring,
who cares, time
lost,
repent,
recant,
re-imagined revisions,
systems breaking human
conditions, connections. see
past the humanity,
inanity and insanity are deliberate
malfunctions- there is beauty
inside every action, movement, and
word.
torrents of half thought forms cascade
over fickle answers,
responses to help your quest. yet
in the same ****** breath you say
‘you’ve thought too much;
imagined
enough-
excuses are all
you need’ while
i cry to you in silence,
you’re missing the beat, the
form, the aspect and motivation
of the intellect that you
so silently yearn
for in your verbal
abuses.
this will only get you so far before
you see as i see
or not at all
Jun 18, 2010
Jun 18, 2010 at 3:45 PM UTC
Loving her is an obvious error,
Over past few years I found so,
Virtually pure untouched love,
Experiencing it just with her...
Cutest mistake I ever made ever,
Housin' myself within her heart,
All for her is my world & myself,
Not bowing down for this world,
Getting one are our hearts daily,
Equally divine are our feelings,
Setting for a lifetime they are..
Edging the long cliff of life we live,
Very risky is this road taken by us,
Era of love awaiting us maturely,
Ruling my heart's land is a queen,
Youthful eyes tell not a single lie,
This is the life I was wishing for,
Hiking across the romantic hills,
I'm that moon & she is that Sun,
Now I get close to her everyday,
Gelling as good as childhood chums.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 6:08 AM UTC
“Always remember that you matter, if only as a personalized scream into the chasm of existence”
————————————————————-
They’re all quite terribly polite, these places that carry the impeccable secrecy of your friends in a crowd
————————————————————-
“I watched those rodents grow maturely anthropomorphic and all I learned was that telephones have data plans”
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
A glass can shatter
But a love holds the key
Stay put your life
truly matters
She rests her head
A steadfast rock don't keep
your eyes
Focused on a useless
clock?
Like tick tock what is more?
God has a plan right timing
Like a bet or winning score
Our minds like shock wave
Glass half filled fingers move
Ballet tip toe beating heart
Pour a new glass your lips
turn colors and stay fit
Flying the stars forms appear
Teardrops of a miracle
Powerful mind with principle
Jesus we trust
Like a rise up shimmered sun
Stained glass
He lift your spirit see through it
New chapter being happier
Divine glass of wine
Walk the faith you stay* on *line__
Hearts floating glass take one
Two sips love dream state
Promise land trip of fate
Your angels tell you spiritually
You are the divine wings
Perfectly
Deep glass opens bright star*
Sunset* We Met
Your glass you sip slow
Never to deceive you
Just a true love to please you
Heavenly father above
Glass flower spiritually
Grows maturely
Just lovely divinely
Like a holy taste of wine
God delivers Guardian angel *
Like a celebration new you arrival *
Apr 25, 2024
Apr 25, 2024 at 8:15 AM UTC
there you are:
brown mop of hair,
glasses you refuse to keep on,
teal green eyes,
broad smirk,
thin body stretched over 206 bones
a man
not my little brother –
no,
when you were little
you sat in that carriage and I read to you:
hours upon hours of stories you probably don’t remember,
but that I cherish
and when you were little
I would ask if you were a boy or a girl
and because I wanted a sister you would always say the opposite of what you are
and most of all when you were little, I shielded you
I carried you
I picked you up
but now you are a man
trapped inside his head
I see this shell of you, my brother,
but sometimes I can’t find you
sometimes all I see are your teal eyes
and not behind them
and there are moments where I wish I could peel back your skin
layer by layer
and go into your mind and see the chaos
like a busy city,
your mind,
cars honking
smog emanating from the tallest buildings
people milling and shouting and cursing
there is no pause
there is only go
one man in your brain carries in a black briefcase your fears
those worries that stop me from seeing you behind your eyes
and this man with a grey cloud overhead,
cloaked in a hood,
wanders your mind
and passes this fear from one person to the next
until slowly,
and gradually,
your whole brain is filled with grey clouds
and cloaked figures
and black briefcases
and shouting and whispering and laughing
and you disappear
from right here
back into your mind
“come closer”, they say,
“why live in this world when you can live in ours?”
and I hate these men; these people
distributing your fears
when it started, it was simply a fear of food,
but then it was
a fear of the world,
a fear of an illness,
a fear of yourself,
my little brother,
who smiled so brightly and vividly it was distractingly beautiful,
who draws so intensely and maturely and incredibly,
paints pictures of wisdom at sixteen,
who has rules and standards to the depths and validity of music
my little brother is trapped
and my stomach sinks when I ask:
“are you okay?”
and he only replies
“…yeah…”
and I feel so helpless when he looks so tired with his sunken eyes
because those men control him
they take all of him away and leave only a shell of my little brother
my bravest brother
my inspiring brother
my strong brother
whom I wish I could wipe clean of all the briefcases
and cloaked figures
and men
and fill his mind with a string of white lights,
Christmas lights,
and layer it with the smell of brownies baking in the oven,
and screens on which are projected his favourite shows and movies and videos of him,
my little brother,
who fights these men every day
and he deserves a medal of honour
because there is a war in his mind
and he battles incessantly
and I know, very soon,
even if only for a little while,
he’ll get a break from this city of his mind
and he’ll win.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 12:45 AM UTC
Tik tok tik tok,
We look back,
To the people that we've met,
To the places we went,
To the events that touched our soul,
Tik tok tik tok,
As time passes by,
Some travel against the current,
Refusing to let go,
Unwilling to consign them to oblivion,
Hopelessly trying to salvage what was lost,
Reticently denying the future,
Tik tok tik tok,
As the clocks turns forevermore,
We realise that lost times will never come back,
What has been done can never be effaced,
The only thing to do is to be maturely insouciant,
As there is no such thing as a panacea,
Tik tok tik tok,
The voices of future past deafens us,
With every tik of the clock,
It seems to grow rambunctiously,
Thoughts run endlessly,
Of paradise on earth,
That we may or may not achieve in our lifetime.
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 10:52 AM UTC
See the world distinctly?
Pearls?
A kaleidoscope of memories?
Or lucidly look differently?
A beggar, or free from the constraints of Western reality?
New eyes take in all perspectives: perceptions,
Compelling new experiences: horizons.
Releasing shame; distorted distractions.
Embracing imperfections, peccadillos,
Layers of realities,
Depths, and
Rationalities.
Diversely.
Maturely.
Dec 6, 2023
Dec 6, 2023 at 12:45 AM UTC
I could say things are relatively the same as last year,
But they are not.
We've grown, I've grown
I feel myself thinking more maturely
There are some things that were an option last year,
That will never be an option again,
I have grown to realize that I can't be lazy enough
To let myself slip away again,
Last year, people, me included, were love sick,
Desperately seeking affection, love, care,
But this year I think we all know we are loved,
And that that person will come around one day,
That it doesn't have to be now
I could say it just another year of high school,
But it is somehow completely different
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
Green grass along a cerulean sky
Sought I
To write:
The perfect prose.
Thoroughly I searched,
Yet my pad remained plain and pure
And quite unquenched.
I strolled stolidly and walked wearily
To the water’s unexpected whims.
Amusing as it were, well…
With its lacking of lapping—
just somewhat lazy:
For the wind blew blessedly refreshingly,
Yet the waves seemed scared to surface—
Somewhat suspiciously.
Then my ears caught quite a commotion
Coming from behind me:
Chuckling and chasing squirrels
Pounced past perched pigeons
As if to bother the birds
Because of blatant boredom.
Deafeningly distracted became I
When all of a sudden
A fickle photographer focused her
Large lens
Dangerously, daringly in my direction.
Vainly I ventured to assume,
Yet I assuaged,
And I moved
Maturely… (as anyone should).
Pointed and positioned to the person of peace
placed in the park,
She snapped, and she snipped a picture or two
Inevitably to post on a wasted wall space.
As the sun set,
To be clearly cliché,
I wrapped up my writings
On my once plain and pure pad.
Had it had eyes,
It would have gawked and glanced
For my gaze in return:
“You call that a creation? Corny it is,
Not at all concise.”
Carelessly content, I closed the cover
Leaving my pad
Quite unquenched.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 6:57 PM UTC
Green grass along a cerulean sky
Sought I
To write:
The perfect prose.
Thoroughly I searched,
Yet my pad remained plain and pure
And quite unquenched.
I strolled stolidly and walked wearily
To the water’s unexpected whims.
Amusing as it were, well…
With its lacking of lapping—
Just somewhat lazy:
For the wind blew blessedly refreshingly,
Yet the waves seemed scared to surface—
Somewhat suspiciously.
Then my ears caught quite a commotion
Coming from behind me:
Chuckling and chasing squirrels
Pounced past perched pigeons
As if to bother the birds
Because of blatant boredom.
Deafeningly distracted became I
When all of a sudden
A fickle photographer focused her
Large lens
Dangerously daringly in my direction.
Vainly I ventured to assume,
Yet I assuaged,
And I moved
Maturely… (as anyone should).
Pointed and positioned to the person of peace
Placed in the park;
She snapped, and she snipped a picture or two
Inevitably to post on a wasted wall space.
As the sun set,
To be clearly cliché,
I wrapped up my writings
On my once plain and pure pad.
Had it had eyes,
It would have gawked and glanced
For my gaze in return:
“You call that a creation? Corny it is,
Not at all concise.”
Carelessly content, I closed the cover
Leaving my pad
Quite unquenched.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 12:01 AM UTC
Up 5am with urgency, sticky note on the mirror reminding me
“Be good to people, be good to yourself organically”
Aiming to let go of the past that has burden me
Focus only towards today vs tomorrow and tread carefully
Another chance to shine, in hope my enemies take it personally
I take it to heart, demonstrates the desire to succeed fearlessly
The vision board written for God will create wonders for me
My legacy will leave a legacy, a generational love
A blood line of chosen angel warriors build ready to serve throughout eternity
A fearful reflection for my enemies who develop insecurities
Behind closed doors, falling short in hatred worshiping
Don’t need to worry, cause their views doesn’t concern me
The faithful ones will learn how to strive for peace through me
As I continue to strengthen my obedience in discipline maturely
Living everyday as my last under purpose with authority
My ambition is centered around competition & collective security
Take some time off to focus more on recovery
I hope someday the grind retires me & the reward humbles me
By the end of 2023 I’ll give you a full summary
Mar 5, 2023
Mar 5, 2023 at 10:46 PM UTC
I have an easy and effortless healthy love
We are happily married and happily employed
Everyday in everyway we are getting closer together
He loves being married to me
Proposing on one knee
Pulling back the wedding veil
Standing looking through the large windows out over the ocean
Our cars in the driveway
Sitting together on a plane
Walking a red carpet
Surfing, dancing, snuggling
Sitting at the table working through conflict maturely
Nov 30, 2023
Nov 30, 2023 at 12:20 AM UTC
You ask me to stay young, but think maturely,
You want me to behave like an adult but treat me like a child,
You expect me to be emotional, but shut me down when I am.
You take my words as stupid and irrational,
when all my teachers listen.
Why would you even send me to school,
if you won't listen to my educated beliefs?
My friends say I'm smart and pretty and kind, responsible and fun
My family treats me like I'm rebellious and stupid.
And my sister calls me fat and mean and boring.
...
It's so hard to like what I am when everyone I love,
tells me different information.
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 6:06 PM UTC
as i pack up another cement walled dorm room
a year later
a different boyfriend in my wallet bringing me boxes
and saying he loves me
i am much happier, although not perfect.
and with this fact, i am alright.
i realize that it's not overnight
that i learn what real love or correct treatment is
i realize that although this one ***** me too
it was only once
and not for a year and a half
i realize that this dorm room brought me endless smiles
held me in its small, funky walls and beat up closet doors
held friends and memories and all my strange habits
lovingly in its embrace
for 9 months
and now it releases me to the fold of summer
where i will begin once more
only different.
in going home for the summer
much unlike last year
i hold my freckled cheeks high
shoulders back
stomach still uneasy
still pained,
but with the assurance that it will go away.
in going home for the summer,
i hold all the beautiful things
and the pain that greets me like a dog that awaited my arrival
in my chest
gently
respectfully
more maturely
than before.
one more step up the stairs
little red is closer to peace
not there yet, but closer.
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 3:10 PM UTC
What would I do for a million dollars?
How much time would I let them have?
I could tell you it wouldn't be worth anything,
But security, let's talk maturely, I'd do anything sir.
You want a man killed? Sure.
Who is it I'm wacking?
Sell paraphernalia to people?
Okay, how much are we packing?
Give them all my integrity
Give them everything that makes me, me.
Chain up these arms and pretend to be free.
Sell them my name, Ryan Maroni? I use to be.
I thought about it all for a bit
With a pen in my hand, a chair where i sit.
Looking over the contract, riddled with clauses.
Hand stutter shaking, making my grip tight
I put the pen down and paused.
Then riped up the paper with all of my might.
Nov 29, 2019
Nov 29, 2019 at 8:21 PM UTC