"palpability" poems
Humanity is simplistic contrary to the complex, misunderstood, myriad of separately analyzed individuals that psychologists, artists, poets, and scientists paint it to be. Each person is labeled with a different disorder founded by their apparently personal past tragedies and harbors the wholehearted, mistaken, belief that they are alone in their “tragedy” which is indeed not tragedy but a side effect to the human condition, and arguably, to the optimist, one of life’s sacred milestones. Humanity likes to romanticize these milestones. They dress up their societal deemed shameful past with cashmere sweaters, line their lips with the grief of loss, and sweep their eyes with trust issue mascara all in an effort to pronounce themselves worthy and prove themselves beautiful despite their “unique” past events and tragic flaws. But they are not unique. When you peel off the pearls, when you delete the username, when you strip away the added flair to each sad story, humanity is all the same. They all front loss of some sort, they’ve all battled insecurity, they’ve all woken up one day perhaps wishing they hadn’t woken up at all. They’ve all laughed, cried, chased after the fleeting ideal of love, and questioned its palpability. They’ve each found themselves in a situation that made them ponder their ability to ever trust again, if they could ever love again, if they could ever be the same again; but what they don’t realize is that they are all the same. Rough the personal and each person is the same, just with a different name. Step back and behold, these seemingly individual fallacies of the human condition all spin together to weave a simplistically complex web.
Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 9:49 PM UTC
Examining the accuracy.
Exploring the brightness.
Hunting for certainty.
Inquiring the directness.
Inspecting the lucidity.
Investigating the precision.
Pursuing purity.
On a quest for simplicity.
Researching transparency.
Chasing articulateness.
Frisking comprehensibility.
Going over conspicuousness.
Inquesting a definition.
Rummaging for distinctness.
Scrutinizing the evidence.
Shaking down the exactitude.
On an expedition for explicitness.
Working the legs towards intelligibility.
A perquisition for legibility.
A wild-goose chase for limpidity.
A witch hunt for obviousness.
Interrogating openness.
Probing the palpability.
Prosecuting the penetrability.
Racing perceptibility.
Raiding perspicuity.
Coursing the plainness.
Following the prominence.
Hounding the salience.
Meddling in the tangibility.
Prying into the unambiguity.
Reconnaissance in the cognizability.
Seeking decipherability.
Snooping for explicability.
Sporting limpidness.
On a steeplechase for manifestness.
Studying the overness.
Tracing unmistakability.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 10:14 PM UTC
I blame myself for distasteful stupidity;
This inability to conceptualise my sentiment.
I'm magnetic to your waffled fingers, and you're blind
To palpability.
Your purity pours into me like a purgation I've never known;
A thousand sins, each recognised, loved.
How many words have we swapped?
I pine, boy, and ponder upon the postulates you follow
To place a seed into my soul.
Must I really bury my affections for you?
Saya ingin berdiri sebelah kamu, sebagai putri raja kamu.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 12:22 PM UTC
as darkness cradles
its palpability encompasses
dreams
a moments sway...
inebriates as images of him
passes through salient memories
of Him and I
those moments spun like silk...
his visage visible; an augury to me
dreams allusion dallies like
gossamer in gentle breezes
teasing, taunting in its promise
of fulfillment
dreams alight...
his ambling soft, blush arises as
I bow into maleness, where
urgency slides, tasting silken
curvatures; that stare into hazel
eyes beckon lips
memories caress...
rise and fall of gasped breaths
unleashed wilder dreams
beneath thirst of his eyes,
swallowed by seduction
those naked memories...
flush, deep within our hunger;
a rush fed into sweet pulses,
bodies rise; cognizance slips
back, wetness effusive
drenched...
entwined, legs, hips fingertip
forages; his breath mine mingle
and whispered moans
abandoned...
those dreams linger still
in darkness of midnight
calling his name in want
a remembered taste...
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 8:27 PM UTC
I remember your nervous doe-eyes
and uncertain grasps
like a new shriveled-pink baby
engulfed and overwhelmed
by the palpability of a realm
outside the womb
The canary of your hair
melded with the sand of your skin
and the rose of your lips
****** into an anxious
façade of a smile
It was as if
the contortion of your lips
was stenciled onto your taut canvas face
by a neglectful artist
and you wore the mar acquiescently
like a sketch unfinished
And I remember
kissing that imperfect smile
and being stricken by a heavy melancholy
that descended from my lips
to my chest
where it burrowed inexorably
Your limp hand fell from mine
and as my chest constricted
like a reptilian death penalty
I understood your nearly-smile
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 7:08 PM UTC
Sterile stillness
A distilled interest
A big build of impress to egress the regrets,
Cigarettes can't succor this sucker to bet
His best (like the rest),
into smoke
into flame
fear of monotony, seer to blame;
pioneer to fame of the same game
To claim a name and maim my own,
My fathers own:
For fleeting glory and some old stories
To evade the per diem prosaic
and italicize our mosaic lives
On large screens for husbands and wives
but why?
I won't,
I don't see myself in my grandmothers eyes
but her spirit, perpetual cries, she sighs
Every breath of,
'hold on
Be strong
You've got the brawn of the dawn'
But I had forgone and withdrawn,
longed for the absorption of the networking,
a distortion and abortion of palpability.
If validity is what you're looking for,
why do you want so much more?
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 4:40 AM UTC
Simplicity is missing a physical object
something concrete, felt with the hands
But what is missing an abstract concept?
Possibility, felt with the heart?
Because I have felt him in my hands
Because I have known him as my friend
And as a result I miss him
in a way that makes total sense
And as a result I miss him
in a way I cannot explain
Because I miss the tension in the air
the gravity pulling us together
the fear that we might suddenly kiss
the excitement that we might suddenly kiss
I miss the infinite possibilities
tangled strings tied between us
I miss glancing at him
to find him glancing at me
I could say that I miss him
but that would be so incomplete.
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 1:53 AM UTC
If ever you wanted me, pay no mind
To poetry I write or oaths I take
Nor bother with my look, for it is blind
And what I say will change with every wake.
Don't try me, with my patience cut in half-
My hands, no good for holding, cannot feel,
And every man that's loved me once will laugh
To think my palpability was real.
Give not a violet or a sweeter word
Than “No” to me or else I do not hear.
To tell me something true would be absurd,
Since virtue bids me nothing more than fear.
But do deny me everything I ask,
Then punish me for giving you the task.
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 10:22 PM UTC
We blindly type out of memorization,
We blindly write from practiced habit,
We blindly skip paragraphs, ignore articles, and pensively print upon the line without realization of what we’re saying at all.
We never truly see,
We deteriorate out of muscle memory
Absently offering an embrace neglecting to fully eyes-closed experience the wonderfulenss of it at all.
We go through the motions,
Dwelling in our minds straining its relation to our souls,
We no longer act in love,
But the muscle memory of it.
We look, but don’t truthfully see,
We touch, but forget to truly feel,
We hear, but we no longer listen,
We have flesh, yet we are merely programmed.
Advanced, but empty,
Knowledge unimaginable, yet still lacking,
Right, left, up, down, but do we realize the palpability and tenderness of the action?
Or are we too much on automatic?
In over drive,
That we forget to live out the littlest things and realize them to the fullest
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 2:07 PM UTC
I am adrift in shadow when parted from you
existing in a non-life and a non-death
caught between dominions of light and dark
my soul, disincarnate, hangs suspended
impaled upon the sundering hook of an obscene
numinous dismembering of the essence that is Us
twisting and battered in an enervating wind which
moans and wails like the wretched, suffering ******
filling a haunted and dissonant land with anguish
at the midpoint between rivened you and I
all aspects of me are halved, dissipated
I must survive with half a feebly beating heart
inhale for but one struggling lung, choked with ash
seeing only half the sky, half the world
My scattered thoughts incomplete and disordered
I drag myself, mauled and maimed, towards
the next transcendent moment of palpability in Us
Khronos, laughing, mocks all my efforts
drags the hours just beyond my numb fingers
I can only touch you if I reach inside of me
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 11:18 PM UTC
Threading
into
the
skin around my soul
It
is
joyfully visible
the
scars
that they mend,
my eyes ride the glow
as
the
needle flows,
tattooed
palpability
bereft of demons,
I
let go.
Oct 16, 2022
Oct 16, 2022 at 5:15 PM UTC
Try to observe anger.
See how it arises.
Look at its components
And see what it comprises.
Does it contain the ego's
Selfishness and insecurity?
If so, a knee-jerk response
Reflects our immaturity.
Watch it from different angles.
Observe its essential lack
Of substance or palpability;
Anger’s a tough nut to crack.
Look at it in the face.
Grasp it before it grasps you.
And yet, there’s nothing to grasp
When its true nature comes through.
It’s natural to witness anger
In varying amounts.
The key is what we do then:
The way we respond is what counts.
If anger’s converted to wisdom,
Then let that wisdom guide us
To act in compassionate ways—
To unite us and not divide us.
- by Bob B
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 7:26 AM UTC