"outmatch" poems
She robbed me, untill
There was nothing left.
I too did the same while
She was busy at it.
Who did first, or what exactly,
All that are immaterial.
I could vividly member
What her eyes did magically,
Bringing us to
The point of convergence.
Then a haze did spread
Our hot pursuit started,
On planes higher and higher.
Then there was the
Request from her inner depth
Without any word uttered.
"Oh! take it all" a blanket permit,
No doubt,
I heard my heart echoing it
With a fervour to outmatch,
When it got back to her
We were fighting the fire
Our hearts set on with desire,
Isn't it she who first
Sobbed with pleasure?
No! we both vied with each other
To make it a sonorous chorus.
In this heist who did what
Could never be charted
In any order,
Time and space got jumbled
During the course of this heist!
Suffice to say, it happens
Mostly once in a lifetime,
If lucky you really are, that is.
What more can one ask for
To recount to your kids
On the ritual of passing the baton?
Sep 12, 2020
Sep 12, 2020 at 7:29 PM UTC
Once upon a time was I a prodigy,
Wandering and drifting to find a phrontistery,
A fantasy beyond thinking,
I was a child of precocious virtuosity.
But now time has liberated from my corpsic avatar,
And to God, I was announced a groom to a bride called progeria,
Not only I but now the entire human race seems to undergo ephemera,
A phenomena not to be taken dilemma,
Death do us part dear poet
Though through our good deeds our work serves eviternal, sempiternal-and eternal.
I know not who I am,
But the tombstone that is scarred with my name cements a legacy that
Buries everybody's histories.
Death is but void and will lead me to become a martyr,
For I deeply believe that poetry is the finest art And not a literature,
I am certain that a spiritual minister on the day of my burial will fail to point out that I was a sinister,
They will all say great things about me-
Where is the wrong, where is the perfect picture?
I once decapitated a seraph for I but thought it was a boobook,
Look!
Now I can be pseudocodenymic numerical, alphabetic artist.
Yet, what am I rather than being a poet?
For the reason that death will deprive me of my rights and belongings,
I don't wish to fall in love but sometimes I get caught up that she might be the daughter of Jesus,
Because I can't get my mind off her celestrial features.
Who else but her makes my story worth telling?
But yet I was in bedlam because of her,
Yelling like a certified lunatic playing,
I however can't forget the asylum's floors and ceilings,
The horrible medicine that got me to be always day dreaming.
Is this the same "cycle of psychopathic love that all these poets failed to describe?"
Affirmatively! This is something they will never outmatch,
Sadly, this all seeing sun never saw
That me and her were a match since this world begun,
Hence, I had to give her up to win everybody's heart,
I gained a voice of thunder to be crowned the darkness author alive,
So I ask, where are the poets of yesteryear? The nail biting, acerbic, alcoholic nighthawk ******** who truly knew how to write?
WHERE IS WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE? WHERE IS EMILY DICKINSON? WHERE IS EDGAR ALLAN POE?
indeed I outmatch them all, do you know why?
It's because I am still alive!
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 11:18 AM UTC
you want to run away,
you want to feel free,
feel wanted,
feel a sense of belonging.
you want to go somewhere that people won't judge you for the aching words you cry out at 3 am,
or forget about you simply because you find bliss in life's simplistic beauty.
you want to travel the world
and meet people who do too,
meet people who's smiles don't outmatch yours but instead make it brighter.
you want to feel like the most careless and careful person out there,
you want to feel like you matter,
feel like it doesn't matter if you don't.
you want someone,
anyone,
to decode some of the nonsense your messy brain paints pictures of
and maybe someone to splatter some of their own onto your canvas too.
you want to argue with someone in an aggresively calm way,
and you want to find someone to make you hurt so painlessly that it's beautiful.
you want to find and utilize every gift you were born with
and to take up useless hobbies that will make you feel alive.
but most of all,
you want to find someone,
something,
somewhere,
to help you rediscover what it feels like to not just exist
but to actually live.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
Imagine hot
water music
traipsing down my throat
when you had your sharp tongue
shoved down my throat
with contestations simmering in my sinews,
a few of them scandalous
some true like the sudden fleeting of your crepuscular brow
to two moons paler than the love –
or the long traverse to the treacherous
roads of your skin mapped out in excess
your lecherous debris sprawling everywhere like words
to a book or silence to an early morning commute,
your undulant bursts outmatch the weight of my
steady anchors, imagine this cold wind sinking deep
into the bone at 4 o’clock in the afternoon
drunk in front of faceless crowds
hunting for purpose, discombobulated erudition
in sodden corners and cheap thrills,
imagine the scrumptious twinge of
the Sun that mangles its arms to paint a new
moon for us both and think of this as a consignment to
oblivion when the twists and turns of the road
remember only measures of steps that have no names
and not the passengers, where one wrong forceful
shot at fate could mean the end of all things down
below an ocean of muck or just stale blackness and ravines
of voices bellowing to call out departed ones
where you are just as trivial as
driving in Kennon Rd. at night without maps
and beacons, only far-fetched city buoys,
the frigid wind, the collapsing bannister of the night
cloying the turns sharper than how it was to first see you leave
in the morning, bringing in the fog for the first
light of reality to burn.
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 4:26 AM UTC
Stranger danger, I am about to make all kinds of poets surrender... how? you wonder why? let me clarify :- let me amplify; my voice is sharper than a knife when I say I love Natalie
Adding a twist between different lives
i magnetise, form faster than they spread there lies
they say that I NEED TO BUY ***** JUST TO OPEN UP YOUR BIBLES
because i am possessed by Love demons
but to all Poets, i stand as a Villain; my messages stay hidden for someone with greater vision
you can't understand my cranium inside, i have a god's insight
I have been painting the future just to fall in love with the past
I miss them all! i miss my soul busked in the devil's mask
this is something that you will never outmatch! this is life vibrating a damb man's uvula
cute babies lubricating toys with saliva, while i am busy kissing a former lover in a world under, but above all you poets that slunder
Your words I plunder!
I am a first class writer
You can't bring me down
because I robbed you of your Crown!
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 5:43 PM UTC
I will catch Harry Potter's ******
because life is match
lets take our pistols to unlatch
scratch them all till i die scratch!
i'll sew bad ideas batch
i will detach because im crosspatch!
this is final war to win, no rematch
i wont back down because i'll outmatch
this poem to bad people despatch!!!
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 3:31 PM UTC
the pages of my notebook,
the ink of my pen.
the tears pooling in my eyes
my knees who so ofter hurt
and then there's you.
everything starts and ends with
you.
every star is born on your scalp
and every star dies at the very last tip of your curls.
you're the eye of the storm
my nights orbit around you and all the longing in my body (all
of it)
belongs to your moons and your winds.
every heart i have ever had
before it even belonged to me
it belonged to you.
loving you this bad
is no longer a distinct feeling in my chest
or a burning thought at core of my brain.
it feels now like it's a part of
the very bare idea
of me.
it feels very much like
my wings, no matter how forcefully they flutter
and raise me up: they
lead me always,
and eternally will,
to you.
it ends and begins with you.
and i pray sorry for every god
who thinks a wrath of their own can be
stronger than this love i grow for you.
i pray forgiveness for every person who has thought themselves
burning with passion
and flooding with emotion
for not a single one of them outmatch
the quiet persistence of my adoration for you.
and i pray mercy on myself
for one day, it is certain,
my tears shall dry and language shall run out of words;
for one day, it is certain,
this love shall tear my seams apart
and consume me to the very last breath
that slides through the barest skin of my lips.
i begin
and i end with you.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 12:24 AM UTC
No shadow could be taller than a soul,
For souls can not be measured
Only felt.
No person could outweigh a record,
But your soul could outmatch
The Sun.
For the Sun’s light is dark compared,
To the glow from your skin.
Marry me.
You are my only warmth for winter.
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 3:09 PM UTC
could easily outmatch the summer,
sizzling. scorching. scalding.
dew of sweat fresh each morning,
air pungent with flames each night.
our summer love could belong in novels,
the days full of sparkle and rapture,
the weeks gone into the heat of our embrace.
our summer love was gone
too quick.
tears new and stinging.
feeling nothing but your fingertips.
tasting nothing but the sour air.
our summer love...
i could write more. but no one.
no one.
no one.
will ever understand.
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 1:07 PM UTC
With time I grow--
growing similar to a tree
layer upon layer
my trunk
becomes ever sturdy.
Mental stamina
is the deepest of layers
that can outmatch
any muscle that I could have ever built.
Muscles dwindle within days,
but the fortitude to continue on
will never stifle or faulter;
nor will it ever need a rest day.
So people
there are aesthetics of beauty
that the mind can accomplish;
some feats never dreamed
by even the most physically ept.
When you find time for the gym
remember that time was at a loss
from when you could
have learned something new
anywhere else.
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 4:32 PM UTC
Show no effort
My absurd ethics
appear unpleasant
its actually quite impressive
and intensive.
for several seconds
These words appear clear
but true meaning get lost by fear.
I hear Whispers about , how she can figure me out.
But there's doubt.
They can't track me
should of known my soul mate was the one to outmatch me.
I need to defeat her before my thoughts get deeper ; lost at sea, the letter C , they letting me ,
Hold a piece
of my memory
i wrote this last verse
drained from my energy.
I was able to preserve my memory before I got my heart stolen by the enemy
they always seem to have the same tendency
I'M in a ****** up position she Tried to steal my wisdom
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC
I have never feared to love
Or to let love touch
The hidden places of my soul
I do not close
Myself off from those
Emotions that make us most human
Or hide from the fluidity
Of eyes flecked with longing
Tenderness comes with ease
To me
And I see it now in yours
Honeyed glowing orbs
Speckled with curiosity
From underneath a shadowed brow
Come to disarm me
But I hold no weapon
With which to frighten
Or force you to turn from this
Only pens,
And the notebooks I surround
Myself with
A writer knows
No sword can outmatch
The weight of a word
And with so many to choose from
To explain the phenomenon
Of us
I can only use one
Love
The heaviest of them all
And I feel it's potency
When you turn to glance
In my direction,
A foreign feeling
I am leveled by the honesty
Of the way your eyes
Scream only things unwritten
Unsaid
Unfettered
Windows to things we don't speak
The idea of forever
Etched into the panes
Do you see it in me?
Fixed in your gaze
Is the only home I'll ever need.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 11:34 AM UTC