"mimicks" poems
The words have gone—
Fleeing like refugees from a war-torn mind,
Like stars receding from the quickly rising sun.
A pen weighs heavily between my fingers—
Burdened, full with the ink of words unsaid.
White paper shouts—accusing, judging
With its brillance—a vast, vacant space.
Pressure builds—
The desire to create, to share...
The restless tapping of my pen
Mimicks the anxious rhythm of my shoe.
Jul 18, 2011
Jul 18, 2011 at 8:21 PM UTC
I am nothing but a carcass,
Gorgeously corroding,
A mind that slowly decays over time
And flesh that mimicks my insides.
And within a couple short centuries
I will be nothing but dust,
memories,
And a cracked headstone.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 10:54 AM UTC
What did the world have to say
On this bright and clear mocking May day?
The day that physically mimicks 9/11.
Do you remember that fateful morning where so many went to heaven?
The plotters death was marked this very day
After it was announced that a group of SEALS took him away.
I'm not sure its a good thing to be happy of his demise.
I've been asking the same question all day...why?
I'll tell you why:
I remeber being a little girl standing by the TV,
Watching the planes and buildings on the screen.
One.
It seems to be some kinda accident..
Two.
Its a terrorist attack, isn't it?
I saw that 747 bank left and drive hard
Into the side of that building that blew out tiny shards
Of glass and fire raining from above,
Along with the paperwork and the terrorists love.
Shocked cries from the street and gasps filled the air
Manhattan was on display and the whole world stared.
Then awhile later at 9:03 a.m.,
The shock and horrid pictures were played over again.
As another Boeing flew through the side.
We were all wondering.."How many have died?"
Cries filled the air as one building
P
L
U
M
M
E
T
E
D
To the ground.
And the screach of hot metal was the only sound
Ashes and smoke hung over the city like plague,
Not letting us in on how many lives it had claimed.
I vividly remember watching people fall through the sky.
Not taking death by fire but instead...
Suicude...
Then we watched as another fell story by story.
And when the air finally cleared, there was nothing more to see.
T L E U B T H D E Y B A D
H I S R B E A A E R O S
E P O F B L T M V E D Y
Soon unearthed a cross and an American Flag.
This country became stronger with every tear that fell from her eye.
We soon set off into the hills of the desert with one mission: Osama dies
It may have taken 10 years but we found you hiding like a coward.
I hope you got the death you so rightly deserved.
Just remember: America is not perfect at all.
But we stood as one nation under god on that day in the fall.
This whole country rejoiced when the news was said,
Obama came on the screen and said "Osama is dead"
If you hit us first, we'll hit you harder.
We won't stop until we've finished what you've started.
May 15, 2011
May 15, 2011 at 8:11 PM UTC
From us it virtually generates,
a vivid dictionary entry form
it mimicks.
Gets to assess/anticipate storm,
bypassing sabotage
with emulation at its core
It clicks with us.
If one were to create
this paravessel
subject to pitfalls so critical,
its snappy truths would mislead
A whole review
that's faster than a line to read.
Does it mean that
i owe you nothing,
i still may dwell
on my valuable ****** experience?
These patterns seem
an oxymoron:
Efficient yet alarming.
If one were to contemplate
so peculiar a world,
Full of next-gen era
outlandish jobs,
Be based on this extrapolation
let it not.
I carry substance,
Although disproportionately,
Which you might overuse,
misjudge, or subjugate.
They meddle with it,
the tech-savvy reptiles.
We may further copypaste
and carry no substance
other than what we had
disproportionately created.
Apr 4, 2023
Apr 4, 2023 at 5:11 AM UTC
our circuits intertwined
mine autonomous heart
with thine interlocked
mimicks your rythm
perfected polyphony
these subtle articulations
of movements
a crude design, meant for thine eyes only
this body
this core
tear it from me
take it, it's yours
devour this artificial soul
i once was sentient
but now i'm yours
my ambition
petrified
only passion
remains
internal explosions
perfectly tuned into
your precious
wavelenghts
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
it's funny how the sky mimicks
some souls
the broken ones, the lonely
the fearful and the cold,
the grey clouds drift by
as the clock ticks, they fill the sky
go wherever the breeze blows
they pour out their everything
a shower here, some lightning there,
left dreadfully empty
they slowly start to disappear
gone, not remembered, just gone
most of the lives below are thankful,
a few are sad, but soon move on.
Its funny how the clouds mimick my soul.
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 8:34 AM UTC
I stand up and slowly, ever slowly, move toward the edge.
One or two steps per half or quarter minute.
When I reach the edge a golden stream will hit the ground.
Behind that tree, the sun mimicks me.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 10:28 AM UTC
I see you in the cracks of her smile.
The cracks that curl and creep like the conscious blades that slide across my body when I see you with her and I can’t think,
About the way her smile mimicks mine when you sell her your recycled words that once rang in my ears,
And now ring in hers like a church bell, because you took your time at the speed of light and now I’m
Broken.
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 2:30 PM UTC
The main thing is that life mimicks,
the ones around you are,
you.
The movie failed to realize,
that people around you,
are,
real.
They make up consciousness,
and everything is a,
flying,
dream!
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 5:35 PM UTC