"modifies" poems
“death everywhere, not age or ancient, just an infiltrated lack of life”
a puzzling, troubling line in a personal message,
instantly isolated for further review,
needy indeedy for a second medical opinion,
for it’s a description of two,
an actual place and a state of being
a place where death seems more commonplace,
not from agedness or honor,
but from a madness drunk from a special cocktail of
heat, guns and pseudo-rock stars, with beer chasers
imbibed by those who imagine themselves INRL
in a movie genre of specialized urban cowboys,
subset horror flick,
self-appointed angels
part of a world view
so pervasive that it infiltrates the mental water supply
and modifies the pure children early on
demeaning existence, with a sense, a sendup,
life is unreal, cheap, so taking it-is ok,
justice delivered, for we angels,
are subset,
angels of death
in a country where
seven out of ten believe in angels,
and one in four confident that
the sun revolves around the Earth
look to blame
polluted water
the ever-overheated atmosphere,
bringing typhoon and storm,
I do not know
*how be sun and water,
the essences, the originations of all life
today come to the planet days still
clear and warm,
yet can not infiltrate our personal mystery,
respire, re-spark the notion of the spirit,*
the simple sanctity of life peculiarly human
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 12:59 PM UTC
My French Gem
The Rose tickler
finely handwritten
The movie part gave
her the sign life
crossed over gem
French kiss the morning
The burst of Kaleidoscope Sun
Double touched but forbidden
On the Cheetah necklace chase
The French Lieutenant
her body and lips moonstruck
On her chaise
To get over it another work of art
that got more attention
To revive her from drowning in
the gem scattered like a
benevolent
blue splat philanthropic
Looking more into his unknown
diving suit mixed
with envy green how she got mixed into
the stranger of Poison Ivy
Her love didn't show all her
attributes God spiritually well
She went to the pastry heart
how it flaked all
over like crystals
He was patiently sitting but got persuaded
That little gem of the lounge
Her firey gem was the canary
that got his tongue
Her gem stands taller
The crafted lines of quality in the
Pillars
"Le Bonheur De Vivre Gem-Art"
French kiss went inside the darker side of the painting
He's transformed.
Shape heart delicate uniform.
"Parisians on a mission
A kiss is a serious manner
LOVE" Gem birth opens her
He modifies her rainbow
Artwork of brush yellow
twinset platter hello fellow
the essence beloved to follow
So worth her wait being watched
By the crystal rock, he loved her
going up in spirit or she falls for him
The gem to be it
Magical modernly gem -fit clock.
See through hands meditation harp.
Lebonheur De Vivre fine art sharp.
Lips movement beyond hearts.
Le-bonheur De Vivre gem arts.
Artesian heels tapping boots.
Fall for Autumn love cahoots.
Beloved, divinely he's the healer.
The picture spoke she's the winner.
Wilderness he glides kisses prints.
Pushing her waves hints.
Everlasting one thought he's guessing?
Art never part beautify stem.
Eyes so genuine he's her gem.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 9:26 AM UTC
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Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 1:26 AM UTC
twenty-three trips around the sun
just another insignificant planet
crowding a broiling ball of
hydrogen gas in one
of some hundred
billion galaxies
it's hard
not to wilt
by comparison
not even a quarter of a
century and for all i know i could
very well be dead tomorrow buried
three days hence never to walk the earth again
i am an amalgam of every person i meet
each event in this tumultuous tragedy
modifies me just as i alter the
universe with ripple effects
expanding ever onward
out into the cosmic
embrace of the
abyss
squeezed
out like paste
stretched like string
theory across parchment
paper—thin and fragile as i
hope in vain for some semblance
of significance to be lent to me on loan
if i want it i'll have to make it all on my own
but i'm growing older with every passing
moment and i'm not so certain this is
the route i've chosen anymore
i'll still carve my name into
this Earth but not for me
i'll lay down my life not
for my legacy but
for my neighbor
for all those i'll
never get to
meet
not out
of some youthful
idealism or ardent
child-like naiveté but
for an idea that's bigger
and brighter and better than
myself: universal brotherhood
peace and love goodwill towards
all lifeforms with whom we share this
tiny blue dot that we call planet Earth
and while i know i will hardly make a
difference in the grand scheme
of things at least i can say i
died a lion never living
on my knees
instead
i tried to live
my life so *******
brilliantly that even
Death feared to take
me into the nothingness
twenty-three trips around the sun
almost a quarter of a century
i won't let them steal my
hope from me i refuse
to bow to apathy i
stand strong on
my own feet
and say i'm
free
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 12:00 AM UTC
Dearest,
You wrote me a letter once and the last line said
"I choose you."
The words were musical to me, but they felt more like they were
meant for you. I think that is what made them special, that they
were the words you needed to hear whispered in your ear and so
your heart opened and whispered them into mine, because just
maybe I needed them too.
Well I've written some poems for other people before in days
gone by and I've poured words meant for me into the open hearts
of other people just to find that their jar was already full, or
perhaps it wasn't opened in the first place.
And now I know you're scared because what if their veins hadn't
been full of predetermined sweet nothings given to them
unnecessarily by others in this confusingly backwards way? What
if their jars had been open and accepted my insecurities just to
sing reassurances into my ear?
I'll entertain Fate on my doorstep for long enough to tell her
that I am glad, for if she had allowed this to happen I would
have been unhappy. Fate crafted the individuals before you
with a fatal flaw because she knew that I would have
ultimately been disenchanted, downtrodden, disturbed. And so
with a gleam in her eye she led me to you.
And perhaps you'll theorize that this, then, was no choice. Fate
did it for me, yes? My response is as follows:
I chose you long before Fate threw her hat into the ring. Or
perhaps she had thrown it into the ring and blew the wind just
so on that first summer day when I saw your face, red-cheeked
and blue eyed, brown-haired and loud-laughing. Even if she
had, she still let me choose. For Fate only modifies the
environment, but the heart is a complex, wild thing that is not
to be tampered with. So when a million fireworks rattled my
ribcage the second I saw you, Fate smiled. Her plan had
worked. I did not decide that I would feel a small earthquake
inside of my body every time I laid eyes on you. But my heart
chose you. Unashamedly. Instantly.
Perhaps it once chose the others, too. But upon seeing that they
were not for me, it paused. It took a while, but it moved on.
Then there was you. It was afraid at first, but Fate took it by the
hand and showed me that your jar was not empty. And then
you showed me that it contained everything I needed to hear
within it. So I did not move on. I chose you. I choose you, still.
Forever. Until your jar is full and Fate tells me that it is time to
close the curtains, draw the shutters, lock the front doors and,
someday, leave the house.
But something tells me that I will begin to send postcards to my
former address. And perhaps I'll stumble upon the threshold,
years later, and find a jar.
And I'll choose you.
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 11:58 PM UTC
*perfomrer between recitation:
the crescent moon chin between recitation
revealing smug*
(huh? blue = noun, bluish = adjective,
but smug = adjective and smugish = noun,
even though smug is closer to verb
of the doing part that modifies itself: a noumenon,
and smugish is a name of a quality kindred...
but blue, and bluish?! yeah,
smugish, wrinkles nearing the comedy stretches
marked by consistent smiles...
yes smugness is a definite article
and smugish is cryptological half-revelatory
indefinite articulation);
*poet between recitation:
i’ll just fill up vanity with as many heart attacks
to **** me as i have hearts.*
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 8:12 PM UTC
I am a circumstance
— noun
1. a condition, detail, part, or attribute, with respect to time, place, manner,agent, etc., that accompanies, determines, or modifies a fact or event; a modifying or influencing factor
I am a lever
—noun
1. Mechanics. a rigid bar that pivots about one point and that is used to move an object at a second point by a force applied at a third.
I am water
-noun
1. a transparent, odorless, tasteless liquid, a compound of hydrogen and oxygen, H 2 O, freezing at 32°F or 0°C and boiling at 212°F or 100°C, that in a more or less impure state constitutes rain, oceans, lakes, rivers, etc.: it contains 11.188 percent hydrogen and 88.812 percent oxygen, by weight.
I am you
— pronoun, possessive your or yours, objective you, plural you.
1. the pronoun of the second person singular or plural, used of the person or persons being addressed, in the nominative or objective case
I am all of these things and nothing at all.
I am.
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 11:37 PM UTC
One More Wrinkle On The Upper Lip
Yup,
One more wrinkle on the upper lip!
I quip you not.
It came this morning
Like a ship on the horizon, showing up
A shapeless form from out the blue.
What shall I do?
I’m much too old and used to lines
To be the type that whines;
Too old and worldly wise
To be one who modifies a truth.
“You have no longer youth - the truth.
You can’t expect a skin youth-smooth.
Be glad that you can see reflections
Looking back at you
at all.”*
I left the mirror on the wall
And went to yoga.
*Be thankful that you can see it, said my friend".
One More Wrinkle On The Upper Lip 9.1.2017
Circling Round Wrinkles; Circling Round Aging; Circling Round Woman II;
Arlene Corwin
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 2:18 PM UTC
Somewhere in the town I heard a strange humming lullaby
That I've never heard before
As my heart beat It made a match to her humming lullaby
Her presence was unexpected
Now I feel protected
Just by having her warmth
She is the only one that understands my story
My worries and my sorrows
She gives me a feeling that no one else can
Her touch is so, magical
And the beat of her gentle touch is so classical
While she places some kisses on my lips I'm so,
gentle to her because her fragile touch reminds me that she is the only one
Possesing every inch of me
She modifies my disposition with her magical hands
So I hit play and wind her back
When my world seems gloomy
She arrives with the sun
And slowly she tosses the sun rays Reminding me that every is alright
I lay back and give her control
She beats the pain out of me
When i turn on my speakers
Her carresing hands so sensitive begin to touch
Exitement and anticipation builds
I hold her tenderly in my arms
And sink slowly away in her lyrical pureness
On our ecstatic trip to paradise
She meets all of my needs
So i ****** to the beat,move every part of me
Moment of total bliss
As I explore every inch of her curves
With her its a perfect world
With smooth lines she serenades
Chanting sweetly about my prowess
Twirling and jingling with fondness
Falling for her allures
I perform the hardest contortions
Marinade myself in her positive vibes
My hands tight around her
Rhythm changes,
We go high ,we go low
then higher like shooting stars
Breathlessly till we ******
And start on the free fall
She is my shoulder to cry on
My molly to feel mellow
Her love spell is so powerful
She does all that I please
She hypnotises me with intense lyrics
Reminds me of lost passion
Future love and magic
As we move along in slow steps
A love song
She is there whenever I desire her
She is forever youthful and beautiful
Her tune is full of promises
She lights up my blues
Laughs with me and cries with me
Till the beats fade away
Carrying with them my pensive moods
When the sun kisses the sky for good night
She makes sure that tonight the sky is full of star's and with the moon
Laying in my bed room before I sleep
She wraps her arms around me
Till we fall asleep
All I need in this world is her glitter touch of her soul
And her glitter soul
Forever in my world
DET & Andrew Juma ©2016
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 7:18 AM UTC
Isn’t it funny how an earth-bound drink
modifies our cones into brilliant saturation
and burns our circuits, showers with anticipation?
Well I think it’s funny when the days link
with the invisible individuals in demonstration
of lacked existence while shouldering the cold. They all take a drink,
we all take a drink, and we all never think
when the answer is held in mused assimilation.
Take another drink
of one that jitters; one that’s sync’d.
Jackhammers in our heads amidst deprivation
showering acid rain in our circuits, down the burning drink!
My ******* agitation forces this alliteration
on the lack of restraint on the dull of saturations.
My soul castigates my being not to cradle and devour the drink,
My body, my circuits, hardwired to anticipation.
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 12:56 PM UTC