"perishable" poems
Fat globs
Hit the window
Trickle down the pipe
Watery and cold
Accompanied by wind
And the night
Perishable by the hot midnoon sunshine
Raindrops;
Forgiven for their fat, wet drips
Of cloud tears
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 3:42 PM UTC
Sad because you feel too much
Or mad because you can't feel a thing.
Greener grass beckons,
And you wave to it longingly.
Love the rise,
Hate the fall.
Melodramatic monotone of monotony.
Perishable Plateau.
Whisk me away into infinity.
Dead on arrival.
Dead to the world.
Dead as a doornail.
Stuff me back inside my body
Like clothes in a suitcase.
I fit. I promise.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
Here is the girl's head like an exhumed gourd.
Oval-faced, prune-skinned, prune-stones for teeth.
They unswaddled the wet fern of her hair
And made an exhibition of its coil,
Let the air at her leathery beauty.
Pash of tallow, perishable treasure:
Her broken nose is dark as a turf clod,
Her eyeholes blank as pools in the old workings.
Diodorus Siculus confessed
His gradual ease with the likes of this:
Murdered, forgotten, nameless, terrible
Beheaded girl, outstaring axe
And beatification, outstaring
What had begun to feel like reverence.
11.3k
Time is moving
In a stream of wonderous murderous intending, sacrificing sadness,
My ****** devotion, ought to shed blood in a distorted dark was but an perishable spring dream, looping without an end through nights,
On sleepless nights, the ghosts of the past gets stuck within a river of pure thoughts, a lake birthing memories in secret, subsconsciously,
Discard your common sense, sacrifice your sanity for just this second,
When the moon stands high in the sky, a bonfire seals the nights start
To its creeping shadows, they do not crackor sparkle under the twinkling stars of this celestial ceiling of pure majesty for nyctophiles,
Even our natural satelite agrees, dying itself into a lunatic scarlet red,
Darkness upon darkness, with layers of shadows overlapping one another as the light begins to dim, thanks to the disappearing moon,
An imaginated landscape, created from only pure rage and fury,
But whereabouts of the heart, are likely to be lost to the thought of love I carry within a broken chest of treasury, losing all emotions,
Even if my scarlet eyes were to be losing their ability yet to see,
I would be able to count on you to guide me, through the everlasting,
The dream I awoken from, was a moonlit night turning crimson, losing its radiance through the soft eclipse of the moon, gently, slowly
But you were there, within the far away landscape drawn in my heart
~ Umi
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC
Four parts, woven together
Uniting all universal truths
What others do with it's powers
Only the future will prove
The first strand displays the world's true nature
Destroying everything it creates
We become unwanted children
Who have learned to incorporate
Killing in our communities
Biting, grinding flesh and bone
Swallowing with guilt free demeanors
Only leaving foul-stenched excretions as evidence
Second Strand speaks of our basic biological anxiety
To deny the terror of death
Imperatively born, emerging from nothing
Given a name and consciousness
Hopelessly abandoned from the beginning
Only to be fated always with everlasting death
Strand three
We hide underneath the
"Vital lie of the character"
Pretend to be shining knights in armor
Who will make us forget our
Unconscious anxiousness of death
We all work to attain prestige, money, and the
Fleeting feel of immortality
Worshiping Gods with clay feet
And when our beliefs are attacked
"Holy wars" becomes the pseudonym for
Our immortality projects
The last strand
All the efforts we put into
Making this Earth perfect
By eliminating scapegoat "enemies" and "evil" deities
We end up making everything filthy
In the effort to make everything right and pure
We turn the Earth's soil black and color the sky red
We strived for utopias, making dystopians
All these actions seem unconscious
But it is not the animals nature or
Evolutionary process
It's just us trying to pretend
We don't have perishable bodies;
Trying to deny death
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 11:55 PM UTC
I lack inspiration, when sound does not riddle the causeways of my mind
when echos bounce less around my cranium and more from my lips i find..
solace,
solace in the fact that no longer am i directed from indirect communications but more from the sound i make,
i learnt to grasp the steering wheel in both hands and turn sharp in the corners,
i learnt that without sound echoing through my ears my eyes work with pinpoint accuracy..
i never noticed the way the grass grows over old cobbles..
i never noticed the way my heart beats
the way it skips, and bleats,
i learnt not to be a sheep, but a profit,
a guider to the blind,
don't tell them I'm blind as-well
because it doesn't matter if i can see or i cant
it does not matter if what i say is truth or lies
but if the fiction of my antiquity compels you to lift your heart up
brings joy from the desolation of your mind but to the fore front of the battle field that is your life i have achieved something incredible, I've achieved peace
peace through happiness, joy through inspiration so read on!
read on young soldier,
your broken mind and battle ready battle wounds are bound too tightly by your compassion to conform
take of your bandages and read on! read forwards and on wards and strive to learn, why
why young soldier i know you've never been trained
and i know your mind is ill with discontent and i know your shoes are whittled to your socks and i know
i know how hard it is to stand with two broken legs and only the solace of that barren bare cranium to lean on
but in my antiquity young soldier
i have learnt that we are all warriors
fighters along a broken line standing our ground against greater odds then you could ever conceive of battling...
i know young solider that many will fall and die
and many will perish to broken minds and hearts and souls,
but the ones who make it through this perishable existence, the ones who fight beyond any compassion beyond any reason,
god I've met boys who will tear out each others throats with their teeth I've learnt that men are shells of creatures that have never been fully understood,
my existence has been about
nothing but fighting
and now i have reached an age where i can lay down the rifle of my words, i can leave my blunted knives to rust in a back closet i realized young soldier
the agony of your existence may seem like the end, but its just the start.
and when your reach a point in your life where you can rest,
savor it,
do not let someone tell you how to exist without your consent , do not fight a battle you do not want to fight,
stand your ground young soldier
re-reinforcements are on the way
L.G
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
Frozen moments,
embraced,
visions of
luminous things,
unpretentious
pearls dancing;
embers of memory linger,
elegy of the lachrymose,
this horizoning self
lying low in saturnine
tranquility
and repose – paternity lost
to the provisional.
The cross of lassitude,
forming
scars of loss;
estrangement,
preface to
ineluctable autonomy.
Earthen treasure - immortal
footprints, the migration
of fair maidens across my
effusive heart.
Venus trio in bloom,
aesthetic allusion,
ephemeral incarnations
of beauty - perishable fruit,
transcending the plebeian.
Aerial substance-
the hermeneutic,
betraying desire’s
ambrosial tyranny;
The permuted passage -
savor the sojourn, submit
to the fated peregrination.
Purple orchids blossom,
immortal creatures,
culminating
in perfection
from the sheath
respectively,
each plume,
singular,
the continuum of
splendor, mediate
the inviolable.
Eternity compounding,
time and essence suffuse
the already and not yet
into an
orbiting mosaic.
The susurrant devotions
of a satellite father,
summon the quest -
both, and,
absence and proximity,
conduits of
distress and peace
ironically,
solace and
terror
traverse the
same path.
Plunge though,
deep, the depth of pain;
deeper, sweeter
the taste of pleasure.
Engender and witness,
window into
preeminence,
surface azure,
the sacred -
inimitable gravity of
grandeur,
ma petite,
you - are
lived poetry
seen and heard;
cosmic order,
a mediating heuristic -
to love is to see,
in the dismal,
gift of distance.
child of delight,
evermore, Don’t I hold you?
Beauty and strangeness,
music found
in linear,
secret places
beyond the tangent,
purview of limitation,
arousing imagination -
infinititude as near
as it is far.
Long loneliness -
dissonance that
resolves;
perceiving,
the tertiary refrain -
as exquisite verse,
and matchless liqueur,
sublime gratuity
derived
through
doors of surrender.
Daughter,
in adoration and wonder,
I hold you.
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 5:25 PM UTC
we are nothing but corporeal beings
tangible, earthly, and most of all, perishable
we are passengers riding in our own trains
in a seemingly perpetual motion
but we are doomed by our expiry
which could already be looming in the distance
it might already be standing by the door
ready to bury us beneath our tombstones
we get reminded by our impermanence
only when death himself shows at our doors
when we are already beneath our tombstones
emblazoned with our own epitaphs
we fade into dust, and become one with oblivion
but all is not lost, you can still see me looming there
in the blooming flower fields, in the open skies
out in the ocean, the wilderness
i fly with the birds, flow with the breeze
and swim with the fishes beneath the sea
in all your searching, you won't find me
but i am here, now one with the earth
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 10:22 AM UTC
My tight pressed lips,
against Your tangent hips.
Our hands yield
to the symphony of surrender.
Lay your defences down,
Let our hearts pour out.
Scantitly clad souls,
Semi naked hearts,
Ever so vulnerable.
There are things
far more important
than ourselves.
There are things
that we love too much.
that it hurts.
even to let go.
In our midst,
it is each other.
''May I have the final dance under
this perishable moonlight ?''
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 2:44 AM UTC
I survived a life-threatening,
Coma-inducing & memory-debilating
High-speed road accident in May ‘10.
I survived COVID12,
The SARS-COV12.
Now I even survived COVID19.
I, howsoever, know what I am.
I am a mortal. Perishable.
May 14, 2021
May 14, 2021 at 8:44 AM UTC
My mother recently took me to another doctor
she said, ‘her condition is becoming outrageous ,
she hasn’t laughed in a year, avoids any talking,
never leaves the house until the night draws in. ’
And I think the sun should rather concern her.
Burning things don’t make good companions.
Bought a ticket for a train, northbound at night,
my eyes hurt from the condolences of daylight.
Went back south in September, I surrendered,
had to promise to be good again and presentable.
Indifferent on life, did I suffer from depression?
It’s not been an illness but a philosophic decision.
One Sunday, it was quiet during breakfast time,
somebody from town recently took their life.
Rised brows behind the newspaper’s edges,
secretly, I admire the courage and recklessness.
But I act eager and am polite with relatives,
at holiday occasions I behave and give kisses
until one proposes a toast to life being a gift.
I say nothing in exchange, I feel guilty to exist.
It all changed one day, when I found me a lover.
He sins for amusement while I sin to self punish.
I love that he’s mortal, of a perishable texture,
hope to be buried, rot with him in the graveyard.
We agree on senselessness without any pity,
he watches me fail life and thinks it’s poetic.
We can’t hurt since there’s nothing to heal from.
A physical love wich in it’s essence is platonic.
Feb 9, 2022
Feb 9, 2022 at 5:54 PM UTC
In the middle of everything,
my soul is touched by
something so perishable
as you.
(l.p)
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 4:34 AM UTC
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*When I was small, for me
you always stood tall
taught me to look for shadows
on the dead leaves of fall.
In the illusive bends of the road
you were always my constant landmark
when misguided by night's cold breeze
your light guided me in the dark
Now, taller buildings surround the place
the columns support just a perishable lie
but you remain my perpetual pillar throughout
holding up my life under this vast clouded sky.*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 5:06 AM UTC
~ " ~
through this twilight universe
where poor ghosts, breathing dreams
like air wander
they walked along the moon-lit gravel
into a bright rosy colored space
boats against the current
frightened but graceful, on the edge of
a deathless song
a stir and bustle among the stars
as she blossomed for him like a flower
pervading the air with shades and echoes of
still vibrant emotions
against the blue cool limit of the sky
he forever wed his unutterable visions
to her perishable breath
and so they drove on toward death through
the cooling twilight
~ " ~
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 5:46 PM UTC
Conglomerate softness
Plying blissfully the scars off my wounds
An addictive activity with bleak endings
Leaving a small dent on my skin soon
A memento of this visit
Comforting words and faces explain greatly
The niceness in which days daze away sadness,
So I savour this.
A kiss of kindness disguises itself in the random acts of allegiance
Only friendship commits
On the edges of wit,
And the brinks of sanity
I treat my own mind with such levity that fails to address the subject topic.
One day I’ll get past this
Like the seasons which pass by the skies like temporary trips
Staying long enough to make you feel sad when it’s gone
But hopeful that it’s not lasting
Bombastically feeling nostalgia for everything.
The world makes me happy
In the way that happiness only exists within this realm
The only one we know
And for every day that I grow I show the fruits of my labour
Flavouring the air with words that fall out my mouth like crisp apples
Perishable but delicious and nurturing,
Though this apple tree can’t really fend for itself
It has gardeners who defend its’ health,
And I am so grateful
For this help to grow,
Hopefully through these fruits
I can show you
as well.
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 5:30 PM UTC
Leaves alight
Ice in my veins
calmest crawling calamity,
Slowly enraging serenity
Ashen fall
Forever frail and perishable
An insignificant mass of beautiful petals
Crushed beyond repair
You don't want to hide it
You know what's there
I didn't do it for me
I did it for you
And that's what helped me bloom
I was gone and you were there
Repairable don't you see?
The holding ground of your roots is strong
You weren't affected by the storm
Show me daylight,
Show me warmth
Let my sweet serendipitous buds form
I would say it is the end of crumpled leaves
and worn out weeds
But truth be told
I will always be close to withering
So endure the inevitable
Entwine our pedicles and
Let's claim the soil together
Please never rely on weather
My bloom is more reliant
on the Sun than you might think
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 2:12 AM UTC
Does your trust know any boundaries in this seemingly plausible abode of temporal and eclectic uncertainty? I have just satisfied my appetite, yet suffer ambivalence as I contemplate those who surf the waves of marine predictability. I can only present one suggestion: Go to Tradeston and acquire perishable foods in the name of nostalgic self-indulgence.
The outer limits of our galaxy recognise multi-directional infinity as the bounce of jazz permeates the atmosphere of resigning perimeters. I have decided to ride the atomic beat and to make something tasty in my adolescent innocence, as we lurch into finality.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 10:33 PM UTC
or
Pave the Planet Earth
Not too long ago
It was just Harvest time
That the farthest distance
Was traveled from home
Perishable bounty
Had to get to market on time
In the progress
Of wheeling and dealing
Cash crop
While still fresh
Before its value dropped
Only the Horse and Buggy Doctor
Would need to travel
Any farther or faster
The rest of the year
Trading his service to protect life
For tangible scarce resources
Without shifting a gear
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC
Standing In The Abaft In Front Of The Commodore's Cabin,
I Look Back Towards The Towed Wooden Raft Floating,
And I Am Smiling To Myself After Remembering,
How The Angel Was found, Liberated & Lost.
Yes, Sadly, She Went Away, Never To Return,
Probably Her World Was Way Too Cherishable,
And Comparing To Her World I Was So Perishable,
Now I Have Learnt That Angels Are So Very Unnatural.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 3:47 AM UTC
Recently I heard that in Spain they changed the word ‘marriage’
From permanent tense to temporary
That worries me
But everybody’s so rapidly changing
And love couldn’t possibly stay ‘unconditional’
You shouldn’t love out of fear
Maybe nobody is ‘meant to be’
No ‘soulmates’
Nor ‘fate’
Not that I ever believed in those fairy-tale yarns
But I perhaps enjoy the idea
Of somebody forever finding me somewhat
Tolerable
But now we’re accepting
That everything is terrifyingly perishable
And that is a very scary thought,
Emphasising, when you think about it
A reminder
That
Every
Living
Creature
On Earth
Dies
A l o n e
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 4:51 PM UTC
They told her love was perishable
so she drew a knife to her chest.
Slashed two diagonal slits across
the underside of her breast.
Pulled the slightly pulsing *****
out from her bloodstained body,
to stop herself from lustful thoughts
or from playing naughty.
Grew up older, misplaced her trust,
and mistook loving for simple lust;
she hadn't found love, that sad old geezer,
because she had stowed her heart in the freezer.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC
The nurse wrapped a warm toasty blanket
around me as I waited for my MRI.
I wondered how many bodies this blanket
had warmed as folks sat
worrying about their perishable bones.
Then the thought came as clear as a bell
ringing, resounding, echoing from the apex of
a very high Himalayan mountain peak:
"I go on forever...I go on forever"
A gurney carrying a man in
obvious pain shuttled by.
I felt the sun rising over that mountaintop
splashing my face and
all the patients in the MRI room
“We go on forever…We go on forever…!"
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 7:39 PM UTC
my life has been a big joke
never taken seriously
nor seriously taken
mostly just laughable, memorable
scenes you would place in an indie movie
imagine the most contrived and self absorbed
cinematic extravaganza
that always ends in happily ever after
now in place the high school version of me
and play it on repeat
welcome to my life
as simple plan would say
on my average every day
you could count the amount of times
i think of nothing but myself
only if each was a dot that freckled my skin
only if each was a non perishable in a food donation bin
but in the latter case you wouldn't have enough
and when I realized that
the daunting reality of human depravity
is when God became so much more real
when he slapped me across the face
and blood dripped from my nose
not from the brunt of the blow
but from the hand of the innocent
not just the one who was sent
but the ones who cannot be sent
cannot be moved
and cannot escape
trapped
in someone elses sick idea of prosperity
someone's sick idea of "making it"
the only thing we're "making it"
is someone else's hell
and when God slapped me across the face
he said to me
"LOOK AT MY CHILDREN, MY CHILD!
LOOK AT MY CHILDREN
BEING STACKED AND PILED
LOOK AT MY CHILDREN BEING REJECTED
NEGLECTED
BEAT
HIT
ABANDONED
MY CHILD
I hear their cries
i hear them breaking
their hearts being crushed under the pressure
i see their homes being taken away
i know the depths of darkness they experience
each and every. day.
my children they are suffering
my children they are lost
broken
sprawled out on the floor
being made into each others tool of satisfaction
and that's only a fraction
my children
run to them
not away from yourself
towards me"
that's when I started taking God seriously
the day I realized that this world is too ******* up to be able to even cope
now my life isn't a joke
because my life may be someone else's hope.
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 5:08 PM UTC
They gave me a guitar
and asked:
what do you wanna do with it?
I said in ecstasy
I wanna be like that once baby faced old
man a street musician and travel the world
with the perishable fruits in my cap
Oh let these tingly breadcrumbs
pave us a miraculous path
where all folks stand tall and free
but
Art is Art
happens as is
Art
doesn't need
my-your-his-her-our-their
words
Are you awake yet
oh my favorite poet?
I can feel your pulse -if I want to
and you may know if you wonder
but it is no wonder
and You be sure You
I identify not by I
and for good
remain so
in the unchanging
purification of my time
observe
you -s
from everywhere
thou art a neutral witness
of such wireframes
embodied by the
conditionings
of temporal
identities
full of blind
desires so
I fast
on mandarins
it is no punishment
neither a fruitless training
but a method
of eloquent technology
blah blah
yeah
something brainy
in short
about our humanity
1-what it means being human
2-what it means to be
3-what it means not to be eligible
to be controlled by nature
as animals
because we are humans
and Not! what it means to be innocent as animals once we are
controlled by nature -because we are not animals
yes and only when you are free
you can play joyfully
with all pronouns
that instrument
called mind
becomes your
blissful tool
for making
Art
just
I said
and
they
they
they
broke my
guitar
Recycled now
thankfully
to a new
instrument
branded
as
Thou Art Art
available
to all
for free
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 4:12 PM UTC
Translucent,
Clearly visible,
That which lies within,
Malleable when heated to extreme,
By passion or regret,
Accepting the arrangements,
And shape and form,
Of that which afflicts and guides it,
Made ornate with,
Precious events and horrific realities,
It slowly becomes opaque,
No longer allowing light to pass,
Reflecting instead,
What was inside,
Now dead,
Hardened and brittle,
So easily shattered,
Shards and fragments,
like razors,
make unwanted openings,
To a great depth,
Into the soul,
Of the one who possesses such a frail and perishable,
Glass heart.
Sep 29, 2012
Sep 29, 2012 at 5:35 AM UTC