"outthink" poems
Eons old ink
Echo from the depths of the sea where the distelfink
Lay. It’s resting place discovered by divers who deserve to sink.
Not because of their ability to dive, but because of their ability to lip-synch.
What do I do, and to whom do I do it to? Think
I must, for I am on the brink
Of collapse. Do I go on living; knowing full well that this paper, on the brink
Of destruction, will lay forever on the bottom of the ink
Colored water from which my work was discovered. Think,
For my life depends on it, the life of my beloved distelfink.
This whole tiddly-wink of a subject puts a kink in my ability to lip-synch.
Wow, what a link I thought, might this have something to do with the ancient sink?
Yes, yes, but of course, the sink
Of my past people; presented nicely in the present. My people, on the brink
Of destruction, now have but one hope…my ability to lip-synch.
Where is my paper? Where is my ink?
I must create more, more distelfink!
What can I do, this is such a stink? How can I think
About the distelfink? When I must think
Solely about the outcome, the cease of distruction, to our precious ancient sink.
No, no my brain of pink must help me render up some distelfink.
**** my mind is not in sync! My body is on the brink
Because of how much I have to double-think. The ink
Will not flow, and with that, in a wink, I’ve lost my ability to lip-synch.
Outthink, outwit, out measure, I must regain my gift of lip-synch.
This cannot happen unless the cross-link in my brain fixes itself and allows me to think.
What will happen if my ability to think and cross-link forces me to ink?
Like an octopus scared for it’s life, scared that we may never save the sink.
Like blue-birds that can’t sing, I am on the brink
Of madness, madness at the thought of never completing my distelfink.
What if I never complete my distelfink.
Will I ever be able to lip-synch?
Will I constantly be on the brink
With the thought of not being able to think?
Will I save my people, my sink?
It all depends on my eons old ink.
Eons old ink creates pink water soaked distelfink
As it flows into the sink and out as lip-synch.
I must think or I will stay forever on the brink.
Feb 11, 2010
Feb 11, 2010 at 9:05 AM UTC
The spoken language of my indigenous tongue is unfamiliar with composing a complex signature of words. I am a justly man who only possess a singular thought at a time and my current thought comes unto me gravely. This note should be pretty easy to understand.
My evangelizing does not bound a union between a man and amen. Those fabricating words I once preached are as false as fish on grass. A paradox forms within myself. I am structured alike the absolute truth but I surely lie a fact. But I can no longer carry a deceit intention. Fool’s gold was at the end of the rainbow. And like a loyal dog, I followed with a wagged tail.
I believe hindsight is merely useless, now. I attest to seek truth as it appears but my eyes are blind with fury. I mistakenly remembered that vision is of faith rather than sight. I become a precise and selective balloter. I either speak its erroneousness existence upon them or become a subject of harsh matters.
The genesis Armageddon is occurring. Man falls to a higher sky because the mind of the body cannot outthink its own thought; therefore, it is the last transcendence. I kneel in solidarity amid the row of pews. Peace, be steel. For it will all cease, follow by a great calm.
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 1:32 AM UTC
I glimpse through the curtains
A flickering light,
And my imagination takes hold
On this stagnant spring night.
I fancy it a signal,
A call to something great;
It’s the start of an adventure,
The beckoning of fate.
When I investigate its source,
I know my life will change,
I’m in the beginning of a book
And my quest’s on the next page.
I’ll join up with a band of outcasts
To find a missing link,
There’ll be riddles for us to solve,
And an antagonist to outthink.
We’ll encounter many obstacles
As we fight to reach our goal,
Like a turncoat within our ranks,
Or an unexpected troll.
We’ll make camp along the roads we walk,
And dine on cheese and bread,
And our enemies will dog our steps,
But we’ll remain one pace ahead.
At some point along the way
I’ll discover a hidden skill,
It’ll be something supernatural,
Like the power of my will.
I’ll use it in the ******
For the ultimate defeat,
To overcome the opposition
And force them to retreat.
And we’ll celebrate our victory
Of evil overcome,
But our optimism will soon die down
As we realize what’s to come,
Our journey has reached its end
And we’ll be ****** aside by fate,
The world no longer needs us,
Now that we’ve accomplished something great.
The only thing that’s left to do
Is go back to where we’re from,
Back to unfamiliar lives
As the people we’ve become.
But when I finally get back home,
I’ll have nothing to regret,
I did what I was meant to do,
And no one will soon forget.
I made the difference only I could make,
And all is for the better,
I answered the call of destiny
And am no longer called its debtor.
I wish this were the case
In the reality that I’m in,
But another flash of light
Reminds me where I am.
Sitting in my bedroom,
As much in debt as ever,
Imagining that I was part
Of some life-changing endeavor.
I wish that fate would show its face,
And tell me what to do,
Even just a hint
Would be enough to get me through.
As I think back on my story
I see the light again,
And I wonder, if I go outside
Will my adventure at last begin?
Maybe this is it
And destiny chose tonight.
Maybe fate is waiting
For me to investigate the light.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 9:49 PM UTC
Depression follows me
Like a shadow
Taunting me with its strange appeal
Making me long for sadness
I try to escape it but when I do
It’s right around the next corner
I can’t run away from it no matter how I try
It’s everywhere at once
I might think I’ve outrun it
But it’s still there, lurking in the background
Looming over my every thought
Never leaving me alone
I often get exhausted
Tired of trying to outrun and outthink this entity
But I have to keep mustering up the strength
To try to outrun it
I’m in the world’s longest marathon
And it never ends
There are no rest stops for me
Nor is there a finish line
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 10:56 AM UTC
The spoken language of my indigenous tongue is unfamiliar with composing a complex signature of words. I am a justly man who only possess a singular thought at a time and my current thought comes unto me gravely. This note should be pretty easy to understand.
My evangelizing does not bound a union between a man and amen. Those fabricating words I once preached are as false as fish on grass. A paradox forms within myself. I am structured alike the absolute truth but I surely lie a fact. But I can no longer carry a deceit intention. Fool’s gold was at the end of the rainbow. And like a loyal dog, I followed with a wagged tail.
I believe hindsight is merely useless, now. I attest to seek truth as it appears but my eyes are blind with fury. I mistakenly remembered that vision is of faith rather than sight. I've become a precise and selective balloter. I either speak its erroneousness existence upon them or become a subject of harsh matters.
The genesis Armageddon is occurring. Man falls to a higher sky because the mind of the body cannot outthink its own thought; therefore, it is the last transcendence. I kneel in solidarity amid the row of pews. Peace, be still. For it will all cease, follow by a great calm.
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 6:26 PM UTC