"muchness" poems
the poem her belly marched through me as
one army. From her nostrils to her feet
she smelled of silence. The inspired cleat
of her glad leg pulled into a sole mass
my separate lusts
her hair was like a gas
evil to feel. Unwieldy….
the bloodbeat
in her fierce laziness tried to repeat
a trick of syncopation Europe has
—. One day i felt a mountain touch me where
I stood (maybe nine miles off). It was spring
sun-stirring. sweetly to the mangling air
muchness of buds mattered. a valley spilled
its tickling river in my eyes,
the killed
world wriggled like a twitched string.
7.3k
I was walking down the sidewalks one day
with a euphoric smile on my face.
I look up
I look down
I look left and right.
And
I
Saw.
Life
without
Life
And I wondered-
Where are all the people who
reached to the stars
letting their minds loose to
the far ends of the galaxies
Where are all the people who
sang with their hearts
letting their body dance to
the songs of their inner-self
Where are all the people who
sailed the seas of life
conquering storm after storm to
get to the land of hope
Where?
Because all I see ---
Are people who
have their heads hung low
with their hands reaching
towards the ground
all I see
are people who have lost
the muchness in their eyes
their eyes open,
but not seeing.
Here they are.
not looking
not reaching
not dancing
not sailing
Not Living!
These people
Walking on the sidewalks
With their pace picking up speed
faster and faster
as if they were running.
I say,
Stop!
Slow down!
and
Live!
Stop not seeing
Life for what it is!
full of wonders and wanderers!
Stop not looking
For hope, and for joy!
Because if we keep looking
Only then would we discover.
Stop not reaching
For greater heights!
Because there are still more stars
to hold.
Stop not dancing
for if you listen closely
you would hear the sounds of life
making music for what it is.
Stop not sailing
Because across the vast ocean of life
There maybe storms, and tsunamis
but at the end might we find the land of treasures
Stop not Living!
because there is nothing more unfortunate
than to see a man who lives life in death.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
Gold is dust, and silver sand:
Money made via vices is silly,
For it will by and by fly away surely.
Some people get riches by contraband,
Ruining others just for them to live
In luxury, like bees in a cosy hive.
Debauchery and lechery are a woe:
Girls chasing is many a man's hobby,
Running daily the full course of adultery
Or fornication. Some are soaked to sorrow
Drown in ***** A married woman, besides her
Hubby and God, may have another "helper."
Yet, the beloved apostle Paul in the Book
Of books, saith: "Godliness with contentment
Great gain is." Every earthly enjoyment
And achievement lacking holiness is a fluke.
Unless the flesh to the Spirit becomes a slave,
Worldly pleasures will the body often crave.
Greatness is not in the muchness of things,
But is rather in possessing the fulness of God.
Many whom this vain world doth highly laud
Are mostly before heaven very low beings.
They are the richest in life that have Jesus
As Lord and Saviour, who chose to be righteous.
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 12:42 PM UTC
Eat till you're sick
Just as a big **** YOU** to this *****
This ***** inside my head
Who won't stop until I'm dead
She puts tape over my mouth
And a scale under my feet
Then the worst part is, she'll make you believe without a doubt
That she's doing you a good deed
Like she's doing this for you
But what she really does in fact
Is take your whole life and refuse to give it back
And just when you think you have a reprieve
Like you've actually escaped her spiny clutches
She yell at you that she'll never leave
And about how you've lost your muchness
Then you'll eat a little something
Just to show her who's boss
But then something turns to nothing
And you're obsessed by how much you've lost
This ***** will whisper snide comments at you all throughout the day
Pounding away at your self confidence so all that's left is self-hate
A high residual between who you are and who you ought to be and how the only thing standing in your way is all these ******* calories
She'll make you turn on things you once loved
Till food becomes the enemy and she turns you into something that only she loves
She'll tell you lots of things to get you seeing bones
But what she won't tell you is that her methods are never condoned
What she won't tell you is how she paints on your mirror at night
That way you see what she wants and not what's right
What she won't tell you is that she's just a scared little *****
Who's not even real
No, that ***** won't tell you that it's okay to have a meal
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC
I've always loved Alice in Wonderland
Ever since I was little.
I was never quite sure why,
but then I realized,
I was jealous.
Jealous of Alice.
I wanted a Wonderland of my own.
I wanted to have tea with the Madhatter
and my very own Un-birthday party.
I wanted to hold hand with Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum,
and walk through that beautiful place,
While they showed me around.
Now that I've grown up I have different desires.
I want to smoke hookah with the Caterpillar,
and talk about life with the Cheshire Cat.
I want to dethrone the Red Queen
and free all her guards.
I want to escape my world
and go there.
I like this life, at times.
But it's just not for me.
I want to be free.
I want to follow the White Rabbit around,
to see what he does all day.
I want to paint all the red roses my very own blue, and purple.
I want to go to a place where it's always tea time.
I want to explore.
Just like Alice,
I'm a different person today,
than I was yesterday.
And the day before that,
and the day before that.
I want to go mad,
and not receive society's judgments for it.
I want to go to a place,
where I'll be accepted as I am.
Where all it takes to get there is
just a simple seemingly long fall down a rabbit hole.
Where the plants sing,
and the animals talk.
I want to go to that place,
I get scared sometimes
that I'm losing my muchness.
I get scared that my thoughts are making sense,
I don't want them to make sense.
I want to be at that place
where non-sense is accepted.
And they'll all love me for who I am.
I've come to realize what I really want is a Wonderland,
not a reality.
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 5:05 PM UTC
Feels a fairytale
The sweetness of your love
Dozens of roses
A garden of colours,
Except you stand out to me
With the glow of a million stars
Gives me butterflies all over.
I'm an Alice in Wonderland,
A girl in a world they never told
Discovered the fall
Down a dark rabbit hole
Awaken to a beauty
Left unexplained
But a song and by words
Yet it isn't enough to
Describe it all myself
A picture holds a thousand words unsaid
If we have each frame
Of a movie,
Even all those won't reach
The extremeness of
My love for you're
Muchness.
I've fell in,
Don't want to get out
'till we have a happily ever after.
I'm glad that rabbit in a waistcoat
Couldn't wait to bring me down.
Jan 7, 2011
Jan 7, 2011 at 5:11 PM UTC
Prelude
Seeing thee again is indeed invigorating-look at how my thoughts are now brimming-with t'eir lost souls! T'ose souls who faded away-as I was severely bereft of my muchness. But now I am glowing with it again, whenever I remembereth our chilly encounter t'is afternoon; thou wandering at lightning pace-in thy fond childishness! But furthermore thou in t'ose fond eyes-and t'eir depth, o! Thinking of thee makes my heart shimmer-and credulous to thy gentle love. And I shall but never go wrong again-as our fates, I assume; are but inevitably, and so dearly, bound to each other, my dear, my dear.
O, and but today wasth I chanced to see my lover;
shining bright and tender like a glade in a bower.
Storming out in gladness out of his chamber;
and as we talked his face grew fonder!
O, lovelier and keener didst he become, through th' more
subservient seconds-as though truly adorned with passion,
Entranced by such courage and fated determination.
I listened carefully to his fond elaboration;
and confined myself to my meek walls of admiration.
My thee, o, my thee!
T'is as if everything hath been our fierce destiny
And shall our paths but cross again-
of which I'm certain, under yon strumming daylight-
when t'at weeping moon waivers.
And all t'at wailing bark shall ever come to an end-as our
luminous, but fair melody lingers.
My moon-and th' following morning, it
shan't any longer be weeping.
To th' despondent grass wilt it start singing-bestowing
th' delayed merit whilst bent is 'tis body-and dancing:
Every other fault shalt come back
from t'eir mistake!
And th' latent dangers shalt be put well
at a steep stake.
And t'ose rings-o, rings of love, as t'ey are, by t'is wan light silver
A light whose abyss shan't ever again last forever.
And protected as we are-chained by our ripe love-
Shall we proceed into serene joy, and resides there-
within th' grand layers of our hearts, and splendid flames
of t'is wondrous eternity.
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 10:20 AM UTC
Largeness
It’s a mighty fine word
Until today, that is
That is, today as in society (nowadays)
We are
“encouraged”
To be small.
Small waist
Small nose
Small arms
Tiny brain
They can’t handle this muchness
This lushness
They’re afraid of our size
The history of our hills
And mountains of skin
Lofty mountains
A landscape to make an artist sing.
But as they shove us into our
Small shirts
Skinny jeans
Tiny shoes
They forget that this size, this extra-largeness
Cannot be contained.
We’re busting out of here.
We’re claiming our space with our
Large feet
Large *******
Huge hips
Our love handles and our lard
Fear our stature
Our sweetness
Our ****** wiles
Our swagger
We are deep people
Large women.
Jul 9, 2011
Jul 9, 2011 at 12:01 PM UTC
The hardest part of your death
Was not the muchness you took away
Rather,
How easily life went on
The sun still rose sharp at 4 like always
The trains rattling away on time
The birds singing the same old songs like yesterday
Strange isn’t it?
Nothing has changed.
Nothing paled now that you’re gone
Life, my life, kept moving forward
It’s steady pace terrifyingly normal
Just a shadow of you seemed to remain
Locked deep within the lost sea of my soul
Your memories, that stupid smile, Forgotten
The world moved on.
Unchanged by the suddenness of your passing
Unphased by the hole you left behind
In my shockingly unstable soul
A place you once called home
A home now dusty and empty
In an endless eternity of waiting
Waiting…
Forever waiting….
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 11:50 PM UTC
I’m searching for my muchness,
As the mad hatter always said,
I’m looking for the lively part
Of me inside that’s dead.
Scrambling after my Integrity
That crashed against the floor
Wondering about cohesiveness
Between who I am and was before.
Bits and pieces scatter an awful kind of mess
Still that bottle of adhesive
nimble hands and held breaths
Still add up to time spent on things
You can’t fix.
They all call me their rock,
I think im more of a brick.
I say I’m a bad *****
But they all call me a ****
And when the ground slips and mask crumbles
When I lose my grip on my cover
And I sob like a kid, no one will love me
Like I always thought that they did.
So back to the puzzle
Hand me the crazy glue.
I need a few eons and patience
an I’ll be good as new.
Given for contingency
I’ll be as good as you.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 9:42 PM UTC
Cats eyes line the meanders, drifting off right, wondering left.
Clutching fog lamps, casting back a luminous dot to dot;
morse code decorated trenches: cracks in the trails ahead.
White noise peters in as waves crack the shore,
salt water droplets - tortoise and hare; that game
you played as a kid willing the underdog to win.
The dogs on his back in the backseat, legs in the air.
Underneath him the blanket you wore the first time
we jumped from the pier to the sea, a pair of young fools
romantically free, not strung to the walls of marital tension,
mortgage loans, pensions pressing the wind out your lungs
and life out your heart; the bond we shared has drifted apart.
Crash on the land, the pounding waves;
gush of the tides shivers down your braids.
One hand on the wheel, one hand on yours
you take it away as we brush past the moors.
Rumble over rubble, our suspension knocks
wooden slats creek as we speed past the docks.
Turn to me teary eyed nostalgia, I swerve between the bench
and the toll booth, two dodgy dogs notice running and flailing,
as the last fence approaches. The tiniest movement, a twitch
of the wrist could take a toll on our carriage of bliss.
The carnage we left, lit from the west
your glistening pupils and rain soaked vest
tinted gold from the sunlight and pink
from the sky. The clouds above part as prepared,
those adulterous pedigrees, tore our peace treaty
your cuffed hand reaches over muffled screeches
that beloved mut in-the-back, most bedraggled
of creatures howls as you pull the hand break
twist the wheel our tires carve etches.
At the end of the structure, we howl with the dog,
and the tyre with all the punctualness rendered
functionless with two deep punctures
hisses and sinks with much of a muchness.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 6:37 AM UTC
maybe i’ll never be able to pin down why
this feels so different from all the others
but there isn’t such a sense of doom
as there was with the rest.
perhaps it’s me - my heart is no longer
the dilapidated instrument i used to consider
a metronome - back then it possessed no concrete purpose
except to keep time to imaginary songs that reminded me i exist.
having abandoned my expectations to be completed,
i know now that that which feels forever is in fact
perpetually transitory, and though this has always been
among my most profound of fears, leaving its
teeth marks in every place of every part i’ve ever been touched -
it is also one of the most exquisite - a placeholder among other things
one may deem irrational, like the fear of success or love or happiness.
in a world where fingerprints can leave scars
and kisses can leave question marks,
you don’t see me as a collection of calamities that
you are burdened to undo.
i am not born from your rib, i do not bleed to watch you burn.
you do know this, you do.
i do not know what it is about you but there is something
inside your heart that mirrors my own and you can
deem a myth a prayer or a truth because
some people find each other and know right away
that they belong together.
and even if you tire of my muchness (as you surely will),
i will not dim myself down - i will not be ashamed
of the wingspan of my love.
but the thing is, i know yours is just as wide
and perhaps that’s what it comes down to, really.
for the first time in my life i feel
like i am made of more
than just
wax.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
The first time our lips met my stomach immediately went into effect
Infectious, serious, god you made me feel delicious and delirious
It was the missing muchness it both touched us, I haven't wanted to run out of too much of us
So much of it, hearts skipping beats throbbing to this new beat, you swept me off my feet but I knew eventually you'd leave
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 11:17 PM UTC
I'm not empty inside
I'm full of gumballs or some sh it
What? You think you know everything about my anatomy huh
Dissect me then if it pleases you
You'll see I'm full of too many muchness
There's no space between my brain and my heart
I'm bursting at the seams
What matters is what's on the inside, they say
Well I'm full of dreams
There's no room for anything else
Not even reality
Why would I make room for that
I'd have to replace my heart
And we've grown quite fond of each other
Everything I do is rooted in love
Some love for you, and I'm saving some for me
Just like the Halloween candy that lasted till February
I'm full of gumballs and dreams I said
You chew me up and spit me out
I'm full to the brim so I have no doubt
That I'll once again be devoured without a swallow
I'm still full but something feels hollow
I'm perfect for a sweet tooth
But I'm no satisfying meal
That's what I tell myself as I fail to heal
But I'm not empty inside
I'm full of something that's for sure
And I might just have to make room for more
Oct 21, 2022
Oct 21, 2022 at 9:30 PM UTC
Don’t ask me.
I haven’t thought about it.
Am not even sure if i want to talk about it.
It is not important,
It isn't even fair.
To put someone in such a scrutinizing glare.
It’s hopeless, its useless and even merciless
to the point, Mad-hatter says I’ve lost my muchness..
You better stop this pestering really soon.
Or you’ll regret your decision for many moons.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 9:43 AM UTC
Would this tale afflict thee O children of the bedevilled rock
Yonder afflictions of substances unknown in cold pits
With tremulous fingers and tempestous lips the body reacts to the invisible
While the blooming radius of the ancient arch is magnified by the moonlight
Through the weary portals of the ages lie unravished and unanswered heartbeats
Across the thin glaced places where the bell tolls for ****** wonder
Where the graces of undying wisdom fain to alight their ancient favor
I, a ravaged rapscallion, trace all the hidden moments of my vain heart
With insticts that lay in the ***** of the undying muses
Strange moments hidden amidst galaxies and battered bodies
Then the feasting begins when nocturnal flavors ****** unperturbed lips
The general substance of furies unknown and muchness unnerved
Tasked with obsolete oaths and unmade promises, the warrior breathes his last
By Rowan Moses
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 5:38 AM UTC
When I fear my heart
has become too small
for the love
it carries
failing
to
express
the muchness
of
it
all
Apr 2, 2025
Apr 2, 2025 at 6:26 AM UTC
I love you in the morning light when the sun is in your hair
and I love you in the evening when the night is somewhere way out there,beyond the scope and did I not hope to find this?
in the melting furnace of your kiss,the shiver of your touch and I love you oh so very,
such is the muchness of my day that I can watch the light play on your skin,
If being in a heaven sent is where I went and where I want to be
then this life that you have given
is the only life for me.
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 1:17 AM UTC
Archipelago of fire
Beautiful muchness high admire
Mediterranean sunset, Silvery moon
shallow drift of a blue lagoon
biblical , roman citadel
Rabat rabbit , Mdina befell
allied ally , friend nay foe
Britannia forevermore
Africa, europe nearer unsure
Divided ocean's fight it's land
a Country much sought after
beaches of many laughter
Pleasure crafts, weekend a saunter
line up deep blue still
for Malta's high nightlife
St Julian's hip paceville
Little Malta's big on me
three islands ,three cities more
Sunshine eternal burn
'til adventurers return
Martyn Grindrod
Jul 13, 2019
Jul 13, 2019 at 6:02 AM UTC
My mind is alight with the science of
philosophy, and psychology.
Words skitter through a brain
filled with
matter,
lightness and
dark.
The sparks of ideas start
to flicker with a sparkling start.
There is fire in my head.
It's dancing red, and blue, with heat
As Ideas greet and meet,
merging with unsuppressed joy of
freedom of thought
The ideas that they wrought made of
soft iron, unlike stone, it
lies malleable and warm
to touch.
My mind is full of muchness and
must
Grow and
Learn and
Play, to and further,
than the end of my days.
There are no walls here.
No boundaries of dread hang near,
ready to clutch me.
Within my concepts I am free
Memories and body,
far away from me.
I can only be human within my frame.
I am free of responsibilities, snipped
from processes of blame...
you cannot judge within here
Where everything is far too clear
to be
Simplified in black and white.
Why do people say go into the light?
Because there's safety in certainties,
but once in the dark
the starkness of reality is clothed
in cloth
not morals, but mechanics.
Softer, less ugly to probe and feel.
It isn't always so simple judging just
what's real.
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 7:22 PM UTC
The window creates a square on the red carpet. This is the sun.
It is not in space. It is not even alive. My eye is though,
breathing heartlessly, it attends to each as bean-sprout
splitting earth. As the young ways we were taught to grow
in science classes. The dying of it when I watered it
too much. There is too-muchness everywhere. With you
my watering magiked a desert. The sky
is good today, so good that it has even created its own
on a carpet. The teacher's foot steps there.
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 7:27 PM UTC
In a way I
Want to let you go.
I will build a headstone
With the salt from the tears
I've cried.
I've flowered enough blood
To give you as many bouquets as you like
You've given me plenty,
So I'd like to give some back.
Gratitude is making me teary
Or is that the knowledge of the nothing
That will follow all this muchness?
This is a weak kind of mourning.
I will never see you again.
Please, stupid girl, believe it.
Oh...
That is it.
You are gone.
Breathing, you walk out the door,
Dead to me.
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 2:51 PM UTC
Of the 364 un-birthdays, best occupied by your craziest , unthoughtful and refillable teaports, who rather like to celebrate year round with you, though uninvited, it would be wise you decline hosting the party too.
"Well, why not? What's wrong with a Thinking party everyday?"
I hear you asking. Is what they do best by default afterall -- one is naturally invited whether one likes it or not.
My reply would be "Mad Unthinking does not a party make!"
Unless you like going on hater shooting rampage. Otherwise, battling the twinkle little tea trays hovering in your delusional sky is rather, shall I say, a pointless endeavor. Far better you meditate on that.
Luckily too, the only day they wont be celebrating is that one day on your special birth date. Since it's the single time of year you're more than likeliest the happiest by design, among friends and families!
But why just limit it to a day in the entire calendar year? You should "happily uncelebrate bad-everything " or "celebrate happily good-nothing" for the 364 days in your mind. And all should be well.
Just remember, lift the tall hat and check under the hood, you may discover mad party always get you plenty of room. But they merely recycle as a visage. Chances are, you'd love to gate-crash and bring your best butter and bread knife to spread it all over time. There's no "while" as they "mean", so to speak. Especially when you are hangry and you had "nothing" yet, taking less is far healthier than filling up a buffet of nutrionless bad food. Like clouds in the sky, let them go.
About that Raven too. They are just cryptic messenger going backward and forward with unintelligible riddles that will spin your too clever head to a nevar resting point. The codename is analysis paralysis.
Akin to a kite in the sky, you can break the thread.
Otherwise, you may end up like Alice to steal time, beat time, pass time and may get lost in a treacle well with much surgarcoating and sentimentality. Only to wake up 2 hrs later than you should have, to reality around you.
So let it be known, and shed light into, the unknown parts of the 364 unbirthdays. If you manage to go out, have some social bake and cake among humans now and then, you'll soon forget to uncelebrate them and lose all the over-muchness anyway.
That's my wish for you !
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 2:59 AM UTC
I have been dragged through drama
swimming between problems
floating over ups
and tip toeing over downs
I have been here and there
walking with lovers
picking up broken pieces
holding hands with friends
forgiving enemies
moving on gracefully
I have been brought up
in the country
living in the city
dodging reality
loving fantasy
falling for stupidity
climbing back up, rationally
falling again and again
and still
my legs stand tall
holding a head full of wants
and a heart
bursting with desire
for so much
muchness
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 9:39 AM UTC