"pentagonal" poems
Pencil - ****** - ***** - Penalize -Pentagram - Pentagon - Pentagonal - Penitentiary -Pensive - Peninsula - P.......
....Plagued. What is it to be plagued? Haunted?
Seiged by an inescapable force?
Haulted?
IMMOVABLE.
ability to move, yet achieving no valuable distance.
A struggle writhing within ones self.
Pen -Pent- Pent up- P...
....Please, no more....
....more miles high.....
Stakes,
In the ground.....
Great stakes.....
High,
So very high.
Unreachable.
Unattainable.
Pen-Pensive-Pacing- to pace back and forth down a narrow stretch of newly carpeted hallway.
A door.
Adoring.....
Adorable....
Sweet.
Innocence left?
May be none left.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 10:30 AM UTC
Lights were on,
you were home.
His car,
watermelon green
boot static in front,
lit up as treasure
beneath a streetlamp globe.
Snow pinched
windshield,
fingers numb,
gloves with pentagonal
holes 'round the wrist.
Got out,
cold hit me
like the train squealing up
at Canal Street
near 2AM.
That's where
you found out
who I was.
I thought you were
another twenty-something
from Greenwich Village,
discount hairband
and a wrong shade
of eye-shadow.
Eighteen months later,
I can't even remember
what colour your eyes are.
Knocked the door,
a reckless mistake.
Heard a murmur,
rowdy thump down stairs,
a ****** of glasses
(wine? Surprise.)
It had been a while.
You were expecting me.
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 11:09 AM UTC
The shape of the reason why I am not getting any response from you,
it's ʀʜᴏᴍʙɪᴄᴏsiᴅᴏᴅᴇᴄᴀʜᴇᴅʀᴏɴ
20 regular triangular faces,
30 square faces,
12 regular pentagonal faces,
60 vertices and 120 edges,
Yet you told me our hearts are asymmetrical?
Paint me as the woman you once loved,
Blend my past and future into one another
in sfᴜᴍᴀᴛᴏ
Without lines or borders,
With myriads of minuscule brushstrokes,
Till the smoke hoaxes their visual for few seconds,
Albeit they know what they saw some time after,
The melody of your heartbeat,
Just like my poems,
it's ᴜɴʀʜʏᴛʜᴍɪᴄ
"Lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub lub lub lub-dub",
Every single night failed to lullaby,
So all this time I've been an insomniac,
Wide awake studying the pattern of your pulse as you call it a night.
Feb 10, 2020
Feb 10, 2020 at 10:36 AM UTC
She was the big dream we all shared.
We snuck in through the windows
and walked through the rooms.
Each claiming one for our selves
or describing how we could use another.
We would lay on the carpet,
playing cards, telling stories,
or most commonly planning.
Planning where the garden would be.
Imagining what the summer nights
would be like with the stars and
the lights from the front porch.
Mixed with the warm air
and the boys playing basketball
in front of the garage.
Maybe we would get a dog.
We would have to refinish the basement.
I wonder if the dishwasher works?
We would be so happy here!
Was said at least once every visit.
Then eventually we would line up
to slide back out the portal we had entered.
Back to being seventeen.
Back to being poor,
back to the trailer for me.
Back to their grandma's for others.
But this quirky, empty house
slowly being engulfed by the earth
she was all of us.
Purple walls with blue cat prints.
Pentagonal windows knee high on the walls.
Abandoned, weird, but special,
this one dream we all shared.
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 7:52 PM UTC
the easiest art to abuse is poetry,
after your posed ****
**** **** cheeks
in self-e mode, the easiest
mode to grasp is to a
likened drowning man
grasping for a razor blade...
odd not enough sketches
of the cheeks... but about
how the everyday would play
out after the act...
i just like watching the smoke
of a cigarette breathed out
into cold air like watching rain
clouds disperse for a shot of light;
not that the missed fifth element
of the greeks was electricity
for the pentagonal man of sight sense
taste sense, touch sense, heard sense,
scent sense, and with the fifth element
the sense of thought: dual via either
rational or irrational choice...
so polarised by it that it touched
us like fire's scorch or water's bathed
wrinkled geese, or wind-blown hair,
or earthed body parts in ashes...
because if electricity was not the fifth
missing element, we'd not be taking
anti-insomnia sleeping pills:
we'd be unaffected...
prometheus got away clinging
to a giant hawk that ate his liver once...
but michael faraday got the electric chair
to keep his hairstyle in hedgehog mode
buzzing eureka after eureka.
electricity, or synthetic light
does not allow man to congregate like
man once did round a camp fire for a story...
electricity that synthetic light allows
us to congregate... but only as tourists...
not as storytellers.
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 9:41 PM UTC
I.
The cold concoction between us gets mixed up,
And sails with our boat away
Into a far, far away land
Landing in the ballerina’s footsteps – so elegant
With every twist and twirl setting us into motion,
II.
We kiss the lilac sky for purple reigns in soon
And red turns my jeans green with envy,
It’s worthless but worth a try, for a trial is limited in life
Abstract rumours stick like labels on my ankles,
For it is meant to wear off and die
III.
I hear every single untainted bell ringing in me
So, is Moses or Allah supposed to reside in us?
Or is it the temples where I have placed my mind
Near a well-lit hearth ?
IV.
I outcry my pain for pure pleasure,
And my tears justify the cause for my psyche thoughts
For it scrambles like whiplash streaks on my backyard fence
So fine that even I forget my existence as an introvert in this world,
V.
The pentagonal set is no different since it outshines the rest
And by the rest I mean the crack-laden windows of my home,
The place where I reside is a mere symbol to admire,
For my virtues are dearth in meaning;
I rest with my feet laid down
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 5:03 AM UTC
Tangerine, green, white
and yellow
Pentagonal patterns
where stars meet sun
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 4:42 AM UTC
You were there
underneath strange elevators and
London's tragedy made the news
I don't know what to say but
I guess it doesn't matter now does it
(Hillcrest Park's ethereal flow catches the blue room
and makes my cheeks warm)
We cleared the air,
we didn't but we did.
"What have you been up to?"
"Ah, just keeping around"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah"
The voices across the hall a blur behind the door
I
barefoot
walked down the steps/
into the bathroom/
looked into the mirror/
told myself that I was myself/
I still need that reassurance.
Melody melody melody
melody melody
in the skull
it's a calm sound and a violent feeling
I've been kinda sad about it all day now.
(Laying there
the room has vanished)
mute the flower screaming from the television
and love's been paused again
for Summer months.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 11:12 PM UTC
you've heard of the greeks, they stated the tetra elements,
hardly a word to combine them
given the penta: electricity that replaced fire,
when Zeus ****** his rod into the earth
and out sprung electron linear from
what people supposed to be orbits and clouds.
and i'm sure you heard of the pentagon
of the sigma of man, via the five senses.
but i ask you, how many nerves are there?
to equate nerves with senses, sight and hearing
and feeling, we'd require to attribute
empathy, sympathy, apathy as among them...
compassion? like Marcus Aurelius asking
as to how he would be remembered:
philosopher... tyrant? i'm just wondering how
many nerves there are; are there a pentagonal
resemblance with the senses, or a tetra resemblance
of the elements? i can proclaim an infinity of
synapse roads and alleys and highways, motorways,
but i need to know a perfect categorical incubator
of the number of nerves... surely they ought to
reflect the senses... at this moment i have only
three: empathy, sympathy and apathy...
and indeed all spell out the root leverage
leading toward the tree of pathology -
then indeed there must be another trail guided by
the revelation of -logy rather than -pathy...
but there are too many to choose from,
e.g.: biology, psychology, etc.... it must be specific
and essential... if the -pathy root is stating verbs,
then the -logy root must also describe verbs (activities);
precursor atheism as argument for both
the non-existence of god, as indeed the soul -
synonymous implementation for the word
with psychologism, rather than a firm stirrup logic.
how many times brooding over a certain logic?
esp. in calculus or esp. in arithmetic,
how these numbers ploy a demise, to say
12 + 30 + 2 are akin to sentencing to the invisible glue
or lettering equally confidant units of usage:
br + av + e? what are the logical nerves after having
established the pathological ones?
i don't know at this moment, decidedly,
to have been governed by four elements and adding
a fifth, to have five senses and the sixth in hexagonal
deviations of the unseen... how many nerves are we
to attribute man?
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC