"plethoric" poems
People and their belongings can be said to be waves which oscillate at a given frequency.
Friends are the people with which you harmonize well, or interestingly enough for it to work.
Hobbies are activities which harmonize with you well, or such that you are inspired to seek it out.
Some others are artifacts that your mind has embraced in such a way that you are it as it is you.
There is no such thing as a unison in this phenomenon.
No two waves are identical
but at the same time
no one is isolated.
All sing together to create the plethoric mono-chord of things we call 'Reality'.
Dissonance is there
but it is absolutely relative
as it is also relatively absolute.
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 5:51 AM UTC
What have I done to you?
Tell me,
What connection do my conscious movements have to you to
Make your limbs itch to reflex
And smite me with?
the bubbles that burst with
my submersed words reveal my
vehement purpose;
you ask me why and then drown me more -
I am not made for you, not
Made to make you content, my
Materials are not plethoric nor easily spent
I don't have the means to
Repeatedly sedate you when you
Knowingly defy the warnings and drain the poison
Again and over, and
Foam at the mouth with both love and anger for me
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
I all too often wonder
if you've at all been working
on your plethoric problems,
or if you yet merely continue
to use and abuse those who find themselves around you
in order to distract yourself from yourself;
to beguile even your very own self
via id, ego, and superego illusions
in lieu of making real personal progress.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 12:16 PM UTC
If I revealed my horrors...
I wonder,
would you hide your face?
It's been long since
blood was denser than water
and stranger
seems the time that
salt was plethoric to my lips.
It seems, dear callous lover
that my days are surely numbered.
If only you could taste the loathing
that kisses you when I do.
Would you then accept my darkness
as I accept your light?
Oh, reaper, oh my darkness...
I wonder,
if you could stay away this time?
I've found my redemption,
I swear he'll be my truth.
You say that purity
cannot intertwine a heart like mine,
but his irrefutable goodness
has brightened my very soul.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
Gnosticism guacharos, live disorderly, in the thick of the juncture. Junkyards plethoric, plagiarized with pandemonium, adapting to the actuality that were all inanimate commodities in well built bodies. Garage permeated minds...you cannot preserve a disposition. Then I shall have the upper hand my friend. Cracks in the side walk lead me home...
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 4:36 PM UTC