"mechanisms" poems
Working parts and mechanisms,
charts and graphs and mannerisms,
a table, pencil, square and mitre...
eraser marks, sweat drops, -go lighter!
A thought or two and ponderance...
Decimal here and decimal there,
-micron adjustment now we're square...
Up all night until daylight dawn
and finally I've fixed the Krong!
A thought or two and ponderance...
To the factory arrive before eight
and finished, furnished, a model late...
A handheld one and something larger,
humanity saved by my charger!
A thought or two and ponderance...
10 years long after planet saved,
They'll be parades and accolades...
Statues, tributes, my name in text-books,
but no one, never, a second look!
Never to worry on life again...
..I did it,
I reset the world; begin.
And did it all with Earth's mighty spin.
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 3:31 PM UTC
Beyond the boundaries of our restricted life,
Lies a world of pure fantasy, majestic and venurable in size,
You don't have to die in a dream, were the words pushed into me,
Because I was weak, such was a limited set of mind, bound to earth,
"Oh heavens, oh earth" I said, " take me in, let me enjoy the beauty and joy of what's beyond my fragile body once more, just for this moment, I would like to lose myself in the melody of life and death"
The boundary of day and night, determined by the worlds spin gifts us fascinating sunrises, and a starlit nightsky filled with great glory,
Seen and unseen, fantasy and reality all kept from interfering with one another by complex mechanisms and borders, orderly stuctured!
The boundary to another's heart however is crossed by emotions,
Emotions which are to be kind, pure and sweet, ah, phantoms!
Phantoms of the past conveyed by memories long gone corrupt judgement; when I knew the meaning of eternity you were no longer there, such the serenity of silence rules over this deserted border.
The border of conciousness.
~ Umi
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 2:43 PM UTC
Once it was garbage, refuse, trash.
A jumble of foul-smelling detritus hauled to the curb
And removed by sinewy men
Contributing a harder day's work
Than anyone else in the city.
Our energy now removes its entropy.
Sorted and classified into coloured bins,
We add order to our rejected matter.
Specialized trucks arrive to collect
The date-synchronized bins
Emptying them into functionally compatible mechanisms.
Most desolate is the black box of paper and cardboard.
Brochures and flyers, old magazines and letters.
Annual reports and cereal boxes.
Once these were enameled with crafted sentences,
Painstakingly typed, edited and debated,
On the monitors of copywriters.
Now they are just millions of words printed on flattened fibre substrates,
Jumbled into the bruised and scarred black box,
Entering into the recycling stream.
The nouns and adjectives,
Prepositions and gerunds,
All jumble together.
Fragments of precisely-crafted sentences and paragraphs
Are gradually broken, shredded and pulped.
Incomplete thoughts, broken phrases
Like those of a rejected stranger
In an lonely, unknown country.
Then words without context.
Then just disparate letters
Are all that remain.
Their M ea N inG
G r a Du all y
is re mov
e d
.
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 10:26 AM UTC
Through the wandering spectrum
Of cerulean dragonfly eyes
You fly without hesitation
Observing the vast and marvelous world
As if it were your own
As if it were your cut-out template,
With an admirable sense of wonder
And the fervent desire
Not only to know
But to contemplate
The luminescence of a fluttering firefly
How the brittle mechanisms of life
Apply
Through crystal-clear dragonfly wings
You carry your mind
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
Warming up to it,
up and down strokes from the neck.
Pulling away the essence of you,
in the moment I don't hate these cigarettes.
Just a little stressed out today.
Line a few shots,
bullets of your strongest brandy.
Giving all I got,
truthfully I don't love the drink that gladly.
Just a little stressed out today.
Let me have a taste of a body,
acting if I can solve my problems with ***
Sure in the moment I'm giving my best,
straight afterwards I ask myself what's next?
Just a little stressed out today.
Lock my eyes on the many screens,
that I even forget to blink.
Wishing I could live their lives,
not too long, just for a week.
Just a little stressed out today.
Why must I run to coping mechanisms,
doing in my head at times?
Not trying to live up to the hype,
but out here believing the lies.
I know I'm stressed out sometimes,
but those sort of things aren't my life.
But I'm still just a little stressed out today.
Jun 18, 2021
Jun 18, 2021 at 1:36 PM UTC
I try so hard to scrub him off me.
It has been over four years and I still scream in the night.
The feeling is so suffocating that when I open my lungs, dust puffs out.
All I have left from him is layers over layers over layers of insecurity and fear.
When you ask me if I liked that, I smile and nod and yes yes of course,
But I can’t even feel it anymore.
Sometimes I am so numb by what has happened to me and my protective mechanisms resurface
Blocking every sense of touch and emotion that I have,
Giving you the show that I was taught to give.
The only feeling that remains after we have *** is the feeling of another man’s teeth sinking into my neck,
Clamping down on the blood flow to my brain,
Knocking me out in a much more pleasant way than when he would with his fists.
No matter how raw I scrub myself, his fingerprints and bruises linger.
I love you.
I am trying to forget him.
I am shaking in your arms and it is for all the wrong reasons and it has been a year,
A year into this beautiful life with you and I still don’t think I have told you.
It is not your fault, I know that.
What I don’t know, is if it was mine.
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 12:50 PM UTC
~
each intersection, a crossroad made,
every answer, a question began;
each wrong, a right opposing,
every song, a note composing,
after darkness, the light again!
angry words won’t heal the pain,
apologies like ointment’s rain;
flood-washed roads a crossing need,
no line in sand, a bridge instead,
points me north, your heart to claim!
i am no island, though often seems,
my pained retreat, a blood trail leaves;
i find my greatest strength of all,
within your heart’s loving embrace,
held firmly in your grip of grace!
there is no strength in platitudes,
cliches are weak, like worn out shoes;
the darkened bank cannot hold sway,
o’er lighted bridge that leads the way,
points me north, and back to you!
~
*post script.
learning something of
defense mechanisms,
mine in particular;
sadly, when brokenness
is too acute to hide,
the retreat is not bloodless.
bridges built of simple
three-word sentences
greatly needed ... not a
crafted flood of well-worded,
defensive responses.
“i am sorry!” and “i love you!”...
two, eight-letter, three-cord ropes,
requiring no word-smithing,
yet are sound-ly engineered
for mending souls and
building hearts-bridges
not easily broken...
each capable of bearing
(baring) great weights.
and yes, there are notes composing here,
for it is said, “a song solidifies
the heart’s passionate decisions!”*
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 1:08 PM UTC
My dreams whisper sweet things
And surreptitiously speak to me
My waking words are rote and empty
-spilling with hypocrisy
Yet their comforting embrace
Simply bring smiles to my face
Filling my mind while I'm asleep
They send messages lined with silver That vanish when I wake
To bring about a dull and listless form Who is shaping my last mistake
You see I wake in a storm
Simultaneously feeling constrained
To my bed
I can't get up while there's no filter
For the rush of noises in my head
If there's a difference between
What you know and what you believe Then why is it not as easy
To imagine my reprieve
Why can I only experience a vivid life
While I sleep
Then once again wake up
To this Fear Doubt and Anger
Choking me
Invoking me by pushing buttons
Of their endless promises
To for certain be found in youth
While my vision is livid sinning
Contemplating and pinpointing
Who too close is uncouth
You sit there and feed my veins
An explanation to your lies
With all the compromised
Washed up water
Memorized methods
Coping mechanisms
While it's your heart that remains
Aloof
Then sit there in desperation
Reiterating as if you know
The deep introspective answer
When any fool can see your wisdom
Is wrought in the vanity
Of a talented dancer
If you lost the truth of sanity
Would you retrieve it for ten cents
Or would you search inside
Before hiding from the confines
Of a necessary moment
I'd rather die or sacrifice my life
Before cowering from what's hidden
The message so raw
That counts your flaws
Like there was some proof
In what is missing
But ultimately I guess
It comes down to the small decision
The chip on my shoulder
That became a boulder
When I reached out
For my inner vision.
So while I feel so disparate and alone
In the trenches losing my senses
Will I be the hero or be the villain
Will I let the poison make me it's toy
Or take the penicillin
*Some days my life feels as heavy
As that last breath left over
From how loudly I shout
But I guess a general synopsis to you
Of how I sometimes feel inside
Is a decent first step to waking up
While I'm down and out*
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 4:53 AM UTC
She's tapped into another realm
Sitting on top of the world
Resonating the astral plane
At least in my mind
She's above me
So divine
A crown wrapped in flowers and gold
Diamonds in the sky
Cut through the noise
and crack down to shatter the Earth
Looking pretty amongst the chaos
She catches my eyes to bring the temptation of the Goddess
Always within reach
but afraid to touch
to release
Let go of everything
This is where our souls intertwined
The tango of our 9-5
Looking forward to breaks in reality
Our survival mechanisms
From the bottom to top
Where her crown connects realms of telepathic foreplay
A mindfuck of sorts
Black and blue balled by the true cowardliness of reality.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 4:03 PM UTC
A retroactive reconstruction of
whats forgotten forms what’s real.
We rob and steal
past transgressions,
but what happens
when the mechanisms making memories
twist elegantly toward
the ego?
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 4:19 PM UTC
And they are doing white
Cars,
Nice haircuts and,
Broad Boulevards,
They are doing slick radio Ads,
Smooth charcoal voices,
And Western music,
Gliding with thoughts of Cashmere,
Air-conditioned Kaftan's catching the breeze just so,
Dark glasses like reflective buildings
Perched on tight noses,
Moving forward with morning talk shows in,
Gleaming white cars,
Fabulous fingers prodding perfectly balanced power buttons,
Opulent mechanisms,
Fabulous manoeuvres,
In Dehli they are moving swiftly,
Their stylish Sari's, airborne.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
When there ain't no mutual respect,
Must stop thinking about the ex......
How much can a koala bear?
Coping mechanisms abound here,
There is no turning back,
Douchebags--cut women some slack!
When there ain't no mutual respect,
Gotta stop thinking about the ex......
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 7:38 PM UTC
I know sometimes I’m a little obsessive
Some might call it bipolar depressive
Random mood swings causing me to become manic obsessive
Shifts in energy changes making me become impulsively energetic
Got my mind spinning around causing me a psychotic racing catatonic lack of awareness
So used to being told to calm down by my family and old therapist’s
Now I’m just living and learning off of my own failures and life lessons
Creating my own values and building towards a better impending prospective future with all these thoughts, ideas, different reasons and reactions
Moments of self worth can often start to feel fleeting due to daily life experiences and my own expressions
Followed by changes in feelings and mixed emotional ambivalence
Rarely opening up to people because, I feel vulnerable and misunderstood constantly stressing
But the few times I do is when something about them resonates with me making me feel calm, safe and accepted
I believe it’s because of my past trauma, I have to try everyday to be a soul survivor
Old coping mechanisms through past risky behaviors shattered recking havoc
Drugging and drinking to drown out these demons
In the depths of despair, my inner demon finds solace, a dangerous comfort I must avoid
Getting back up on my own two feet going to meetings after meeting
Late insomniac nights with thoughts never fully slowing down
Followed once again the next day I can’t seem to drown out all of the sounds
All these troubled thoughts restless I am
A soul survivor I fight, but I often find it hard to stand
Picking myself back up
I’m just a man searching for a way to feel human again
Oct 17, 2023
Oct 17, 2023 at 1:37 PM UTC
Bone-white moon.
Lacrimosa caught
in the mechanisms.
Can you see me?
Of course not.
I blend in
with the sawgrass
and the catacombs.
With beach glass
and stones the color
of rust. I am a
microcosm.
Can you hear me?
My tragedy is in
the way I keep quiet.
Silence like ashes.
I am ethereal now.
This is my requiem.
Send my regards
to Mykonos.
Burn the screaming harp.
I am subterranean now.
Someday it will all turn
to gold.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 1:27 AM UTC
my roommate likes to play dress up.
sometimes, she will look just like me;
other times, she looks like fragmented bits
of my worst weeks thrown together
in old calendars I've tried to lose.
you tell me this is a cry for help,
but "help" is a foreign word
that will always sound funny
coming from my lips.
keeping myself together
is a language I never learned to speak.
a merry-go-round of feeling bad
about feeling bad
about feeling bad.
I can't remember the opposite of sick.
my stomach is hurting
and my head is spinning
from all of these circles.
I've been avoiding my reflection
because I'm afraid she'll be disappointed
to see what I've made out of her.
I don't want to keep running from people
who once loved me.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 2:11 AM UTC
She didn't care much
about the ruined stuffing
of the dead animal
Just the music box
exposed at its heart
like a cypher
of brass-colored keys
plinking away at itself
--a player piano* in someone's basement
to impress, entertain
less affluent
cocktail friends
Never took much
to sweep her away--
like the insides
of a music
box
resisting
curious fingers
to speed it up
or slow it down
learning how
to force
its secret
into her hand
Marveled when it skipped
at the broken pins
a minute glitch
finds holes in tune
as roll uncoils
to spring the ditty
“This girl has mechanic's ability”
Forcing mechanisms
noticing holes that catch at music
slowing
slowing to sadden the song
Winding it up to hear
again--
happy
Tears when it stopped
--the question
of why?
of its own accord
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
So what is recovery?
Is it that tingle in your cheeks
When the corners of your mouth meet
Upwards.
Is it that sparkle in your eyes
Because they're no longer suffocated by your cries and you now have the potential to realise
You are strong.
Is it that glimpse of light, that for so long had been out of sight, that you cling onto tight, through fear
It's only temporary.
Is it rediscovering yourself, rebuilding your health and developing a new wealth
Of coping mechanisms.
Is it realigning the chemical imbalances in your brain, so you no longer feel insane, so there's not less pain
But a mind that can handle it.
Is it the glimpse in the mirror where you don't turn in horror but you greet and honour the person that you are.
Is it the fear, that's consumed you year by year, that's brought the end so near,
That starts to evaporate.
Is it eating a meal, and not having to feel like
You need to punish yourself.
Is it hearing voices, but no longer allowing them to dictate your choices,
Because they don't own you anymore.
Is it putting down the bottle, because you're fed up of the throttle
It had you in.
Is it the feeling when you finally win
Back your own heart and mind
When finally you look inside
And don't find
Darkness but light,
When the night no longer scares you
And the days you can finally pull through
Or is it simply a phase
A gaze at what could never be
For there is no clarity,
No prospect to be free
In chains and nooses
And scars and bars.
In bodies that fight to survive
Trapped inside a mind that fights to take our lives.
Some of us; shall never be undone
We fight a war;
That could Never be won.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 6:46 AM UTC
they will smoke cheap, borrowed cigarettes.
they will drink cheap, borrowed *****
and they will stay miles away.
and they will experience the most complex emotions.
writing small town songs,
dealing with cheating girls
and
****** bags and godliness.
they will play at veteran bars.
they will play at festivals.
and they will flicker.
and they all will dissolve.
living at home with mom.
dealing with whiny girls
and
************ and defense mechanisms.
May 5, 2010
May 5, 2010 at 7:20 AM UTC
Desktop In The Charismatic
THEOLOGIAN ESSENCE <[email protected]>
BONE STIRS ....'
ASSEMBLIONAIRE BEYOND MAGICIAN WOLVES
INVISIBLE GRAND OUTPOURING AMNESTY SURROUNDS....'
Desktop In The Charismatic
Dream into refuge all plantation
Dream into cog all wheel
Dream into bracing all consultative
Dream into rocking all regent
Dream into preferable all chariots
Dream into luxurious all absorbs
Dream into contagious all enthusiasm
Dream into communal all welding
Dream into universal all anatomy
Dream into reality all rings
Dream into searchingly all mysteries
Dream into artillery all mechanisms
Dream into colony all proportions
Dream into miracle all compositions
Dream into artistry all pursuit
Dream into alliance all admiral company
Dream into fragrance all new extensions
Dream into vast volume habitation all invests
Dream into carrying devotion all per excellence
Dream into grace-going all shepherd rewarding
Dream into oasis all resuming acquaintance
Dream into cross over all answering wonder.
Your Invades-Of-Veins,
SURETICE TONGUE
Email: [email protected]
Click here to Reply or Forward
0.03 GB (0%) of 15 GB used
Manage
Terms · Privacy · Program Policies
Last account activity: 1 hour ago
Details
Conversation opened. 1 read message.
Skip to content
Using Gmail with screen readers
Click here to enable desktop notifications for Gmail. Learn more Hide
20 of 155
Desktop In The Charismatic
SAMUEL DAVID <[email protected]>
11/9/17
to hydee1982
Desktop In The Charismatic
Dream into refuge all plantation
Dream into cog all wheel
Dream into bracing all consultative
Dream into rocking all regent
Dream into preferable all chariots
Dream into luxurious all absorbs
Dream into contagious all enthusiasm
Dream into communal all welding
Dream into universal all anatomy
Dream into reality all rings
Dream into searchingly all mysteries
Dream into artillery all mechanisms
Dream into colony all proportions
Dream into miracle all compositions
Dream into artistry all pursuit
Dream into alliance all admiral company
Dream into fragrance all new extensions
Dream into vast volume habitation all invests
Dream into carrying devotion all per excellence
Dream into grace-going all shepherd rewarding
Dream into oasis all resuming acquaintance
Dream into cross over all answering wonder.
Your Invades-Of-Veins,
Samuel-David O. Armstrong
Email: [email protected]
+2348131914240
Click here to Reply or Forward
0.03 GB (0%) of 15 GB used
Manage
Terms · Privacy · Program Policies
Last account activity: 1 hour ago
Details
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 7:27 AM UTC
My walls will cave in (just like placards stacked up horizontally fall back with the wind) along with every wave of anxiety-
Right then, I will fall short of words, or rather lose the intelligence of speaking-
Goosebumps, butterflies, shivers and my heart dipping into the cold Pacific won't just be defense mechanisms.
My heart will appear to jolt awake and then dead repeatedly by the society I put myself in;
I will feel electricity running around in my veins, often sparking out of my eyes as the salty tears that trigger short circuits
The ones they say could be caused by the heat-
Indeed- but it's also the cold, the wind, rain and the snow
Words like unknown, unforeseen and anonymous manifesting and getting under my skin- make my jaws quiver and heart dip.
Often my gut nudges me to stand and to speak and to, for once, not fear an omen before I deliver a speech,
But when I speak, though my mouth moves to enunciate what I remembered from the paper,
And as I attempt to collect and reflect my confidence through my features,
My fingers tremble as I try to fit them into my fists behind my back-
These legs shiver behind the pedestal, hidden under slacks.
For people think these mere trifles shouldn't ******* the silhouette that I bear,
Fear of the unknown? Don't be scared, scared!
My nerve ends nervously make my fingers dance as I attempt to provide them a temporary occupation-
'Cross your fingers, close your fists,
Pretend to text, you're better than this.'
So dear me, oh dear me I am sorry-
I am sorry for constantly holding you back;
Sorry for all the chances I did not let you take, all because
I sometimes tend to diverge my faults out as through a prism,
And have always been someone who can never jeopardize her pursuit for perfection.
Sorry, for the seeds of my anxiety have given birth to the roots of my skepticism-
For I paint doubt over every pretty scenery you etch in my mind,
My inhibitions and myself, thinking things over, rewind, rewind.
If I were Rapunzel my anxiety would be the tower that holds me encapsulated- a hostage;
With no demands whatsoever, only a plain, ruthless, endless need to cause damage.
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 9:05 AM UTC
there are
days and
times and
people and
my feet push on
like machinery
or maybe just objectively
trampling the shards
of a million different fragments of reality
i'm here still
in this pendulum of a place that
has always been
and
my feet and
my brain and
my hands
move too quickly but
my mouth does not
i'm still here
with these pieces
these pieces of body
that cost and
tick but
one day
and you
you resonate with a
yellow light that
means warmth
with an ease a
heat a
‘diamond speckled’ smile
a form that parallels goodness
and
i'll stay here in my
clicking mechanisms
with
my scratches and
my bones and
my structure and
one day
one day i'll die
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 4:44 AM UTC
Frosted lips met rusted leaves,
Surprising both parties at its rightness,
Between the freezing and the warm,
Between the snap and the crunch,
Between Autumn and Holly.
Hearts met in the mix of November,
A tossed salad of a month where both coexist,
They met with eyes of brown and blue,
And to their shock and everything else managed to meet too,
Between Autumn and Holly.
As the eons went by,
They muddled through ice ages, warm fronts,
Surviving only in the holy sanctuary of each others' arms,
And even when their battling storms came,
They came out with hands locked,
Gladiatorial victors of all things wicked their way come,
Possible love strung between them in the month of November,
Between Autumn and Holly.
The world grew below them,
and they did their work exactly as the atmosphere demands them,
They can nearly feel it in their bones when each meteorological tide must come,
It is the way their work happens,
And the way their world, our world turns,
Between Autumn and Holly.
Yet as humankind appeared and grew there was something stirring,
There were mechanisms and smoke clouds and an unbelievable flurry,
A heavy weight of some subversive demon latching itself lightly onto the lovers,
Then deeper,
But they refused to open their eyes; their earth and humanity won't either,
So the demon festered and grew to breathe noxious fire,
Eventually making the air too caustic in their ignorance,
Between Autumn and Holly.
Words could not be spoken after the inevitable occurred,
Autumn's world is near dead from a new, ferocious Holly storm,
A touch of the hand is all each heartbroken season wanted,
But they and the world stayed silent when everything's wrong,
And those fingertips and their vast love and brilliance created this hell,
A silence and death fell onto the possible love that possibly could have been forever,
Between Autumn and Holly.
Silence is their new normal,
Quid pro quo, in a way,
Holly's eyes scream her sorrow and guilt,
Her lips, on the other hand, say nothing,
Instead of their beloved, romantic November,
They now only meet for work,
The world becomes more chaotic and its weather distressed,
And the chasm between them grows larger with each atmospheric catastrophe,
The squalls screaming like their broken hearts,
All created by their ****** brilliant fingertips,
Between Autumn and Holly.
All they have left is staring down at their world and their humanity,
Hoping one day their November, their seasons, their world can be its own again,
It is too late for them to change the tides of the atmosphere,
But across the chasm they both somber and hope one day, some day, something can bridge the divide and:
Calm the atmospheric disaster,
Calm the storms,
Calm the world,
A maybe even fix the possible love that is left,
Between Autumn and Holly.
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC