"prefix" poems
.#metoboot.
X O X
O X O
X X O
who the ****
was i supposed
to be calling?
#: but there's no
phone-number
and there's no
telephone...
let me just call up
a trend...
a meme...
funny funny...
not so funny...
it's still amazing
how existence drags
essence along with itself...
and that
essence is neither
a priori, nor a posteriori,
to compensate
existence,
being neither of the two.
since why should
existence be a priori
to essence,
or why essence
should be a posteriori
to existence...
oh... wait...
why essence should be
a posteriori to existence?
that part...
so why does the notion
of knowledge exist,
or the fact that some
100 year old old ****
gives life advice
about how he has
a 20 year old lover,
and he shoots a down trip
of ***** of 1cl
each day?
it's still a drag experience,
no, not Brighton drag queens...
existence drags essence
into its ontological conclusion...
mors mater...
muttertod...
matka śmierć...
mother death;
and? last time i heard?
she's the ultimus virgo,
she's the (do you couple
adverbs with verbs,
or verbs with nouns
in german? can you couple
adverbs with verbs?
ah... ad- Latin prefix:
toward... sure... an adverb
+ a verb sounds better than
an adverb + noun) hence?
letzemaljungfrau,
ostatnia niewiasta,
the last (or the lasting) ******
she can't exactly fake
******* over someone
to a dead pulp of prior to
tadpole whipped / egg white
cream.
*
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 12:27 PM UTC
in younger years
i remember trying so hard
to gain the affection of the opposite ***
and i'm not really sure why because well
in middle school there was this girl
named dezarae and everyone loved her
because she was thin and wore make up
and her hair was always nice
just like her clothes that accentuated her
blossoming *******
i think there was a boy named kyle
or something similar to that
i'm not sure anymore
but he was always around her
as well as me
since i guess dezarae considered me her best friend
and at first i liked kyle
but then i liked her
it was around that time that
i met this other girl named amber
who wore glasses and had long hair
that didn't always look nice
and her clothes weren't the best
just like her teeth
but i remember she was as thin as a twig
and just as flatchested as i was
we became the best of friends
and i felt equal in her company
my feelings for her grew
when we would spend friday nights together
at each others house
depending on what week it was
but i remember her and i speaking one day
gossiping about everyone at school
like dezarae and i don't know why
but i lied when amber asked me
"well i heard dezarae was bisexual
she likes girls and boys
isn't that disgusting?"
i replied with
"oh gosh what
that is just
so gross"
i was so confused
why was it so wrong
to like someone who was just the same
as you are
because i liked amber
in a way that i should have liked a boy.
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 7:08 PM UTC
The root suggests multiples,
a pair of shoes, yours and mine.
The prefix is a verb in motion, a
positive direction; a triumph of gravity
in defiance of its equal and opposite reaction.
He stands by the car in the grey light
with drizzle beading up on his shoulders.
Our life upset, torn at the seam into his and mine.
Turn around,
the coward whispers from my mouth.
I see my face reflected in the glass window
staring back at myself, the coward,
half of a set now rendered unusable, sold as scrap.
Turn around.
Multiples reduced to singular nouns.
My shoes are kicked and left by the door.
Everywhere his shapes are cut out of the dust.
The coward in me grins wide as a sickle
In the bathroom mirror. Our set of ghosts are
making too much noise, all night they keep me
up.
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 10:24 AM UTC
I like the word oxymoron –
probably my favourite English word,
It sound derogatory but it is just a figure of speech.
I kind of like the word nincompoop
but I’d change it a bit to noncompoop
which would then I can say is an abbreviation for non-competent ****
I made up the word mysticscientist –
I know it’s hard to say, perhaps i should shorten it to myscientist.
I like the word strumpet,
coz even though it sounds like a musical instrument,
It’s actually another word for a **** not the eating kind.
Another fav of mine is teetotaller,
I mean who on earth would ever guess this to mean
someone who doesn’t consume alcohol,
really who came up with this, I’d really like to know.
When young, I learnt a word that truly stuck;
It’s guffawed meaning laughed out loud;
It’s the prefix guff that completely throws you off,
guff out loud, she guffawed or gol like lol!
(guff is not a prefix, just saying it looks like one: guffstraying, guffanalysing, guffanance)
Everyday I open the dictionary to discover new English words;
it’s a wonder to me, that the list keeps growing
only 26 letters but still quite amazing.
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 2:27 AM UTC
objectification is very much a cul de sac,
it's a one way street...
to objectify is to
allow an animate object a
confirmation of an all-pervasive control...
objectification =
the inability of an object to become
a self-serving subject -
no hammer ever managed
to self-serve itself into a role of a screwdriver...
to be objectified is to have no
self-serving subject, i.e. a self;
how can a woman ever be "objectified"
when she subjects herself to both
the object (that's her body) and
the subject (that's her mind) -
or, objects to the object stated -
whereby by "objectification" there's
a reinforcement of being subject to the object...
her body, which reinforces her
subjectivity -
when man is prone to objectification,
as pronouncing his extended members,
a woman is prone to subjection -
irony on the ob- prefix,
wasn't it ever reverse infatuation?
sure, not all the subplots appear
in being "objectified" -
but at least being "objectified"
does not equate to being subject to a man's
will...
if you can't deal with
the "extremes": is being "objectified" as bad
as being subject to a niqab?!
besides the point,
i can't believe that one animate thing can
make another animate thing objectified -
in the purest sense of:
deeming an animate thing
inanimate to be: a thing observed
without a self-serving self-aware ******
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 8:59 PM UTC
"It is really beautiful up here" she whispered.
Her skin brightened in the glow of the fading masterpiece of crimsons, yellows, and golds the sun had brushed across the turquoise sky "This is it, this is what heaven is like."
I couldn't hear her, but I could read her soft spoken lips and study her face—which I always imagined as less of the cover to a book and more every word inside. There was not a greatness or a sadness that ceased to mask her portrait. She was all heart and soul, every bit of her.
I watched as her bright eyes changed to become more glass than eyes. As if, for the first time, she was seeing life, love, and something more. Something so deep and beautiful that not even Hemmingway or Fitzgerald could even begin to put the prefix of it into thought.
Among the dusting of the clouds and transparent sunset, I felt her heartbeat could silence and the lungs of which gave her the life I so cherished could empty turning her flesh a pale blue—and she would fade peacefully into the scene before me.
This very thought frightened me. Too soon would her feet touch the ground—and nothing I was humanly capable of, or possibly godly capable of, would ever captivate and hold her so perfectly or turn her eyes as vivid—and there was nothing more I wanted.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
Contents of the lockers lay in a pile
A flask, a Marlboro box, a thousand
textbooks, pills in an orange see-through bottle
One item, unique to the others,
is a notebook
Full of confessions and Sexton and Plath
Sad yearnings and accounts of complete moments
This notebook
Surrounded by the cigarettes and concealed ***** and mathematical equations
Shows the other world
within this world
That spins in time with this world
But gives and takes
for lovelier sakes
-cj
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 1:45 AM UTC
it smelled like musty news and
clairvoyant spines and
so maybe you
were behind the seaweed and sea
of pages all this time.
it sounded like breaks in the index
so painstakingly prefix that
i wish you had
please called before venice.
it tasted like wrinkles but
not for sale
the ones that take ages
of glass and ink to retail.
please rid the library of myself
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
My life is a conflict,
for instance, I'm anti-
prefix and I print thou
sands of leaflets to end
waste and promote recy
cling.
Is nothing sacred? No
thing ventured, nothing gained.
Even the cows appre
ciate the milk of hu
man kindness. Nothing is
sacred. The snare drum in my
heart has lost its tautness, the
springs have become strings that
are pulled not by heartwarm
ing scenes but the slowly
chilled grip of calipers.
Mar 27, 2010
Mar 27, 2010 at 1:28 PM UTC
Unread
Unsaid
Undone
Unsung
Understand
Undo
Unlike
Unloved
Unafraid
Unattached
Unavailable
Unceasing
Uncanny
Unclean
Unzipped
Unusual
Unprintable
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 7:01 PM UTC
With all the people all around
Friends are the ones to be found
The ones that have your back forever
The ones who say you're stuck together
Friends who are true, trusting,and kind
The ones who know the dark in your mind
But what do they care, their demons play too
To let you know they're there for you
People always come and go
Lovers, family, and acquaintances you know
But real friends are here to stay
Cause they are as weird as you anyway.
Best, boy, girl, or close,
The prefix of friends doesn't matter much for most
A friend is a friend that's all that matters
We stay together, like the the March Hare, and the Mad Hatter.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
This may be bit too early to call
but I'll say this in verse one.
that I think you're the girl I want to marry
I've decided long gone.
That you're the first thing I think of
when my senses start to wake up,
That you make me feel blessed by your love
from dusk until fingers of dawn claps.
That you came and burst in
without any loud alarms nor obvious notice;
I knew you've captured my heart completely,
all of my actions, my inner prefix.
You've sink your unmatchable caress
deep through my shivered spine and veins,
just when everything is tangled up
without any clear sightings bared.
You gave me all of you
as I gave all of me. Unaware;
we both fill in each others space and holes
with our own taste of shares.
And Alas! The last verse came
and I'm still stunned by your aura and beauty;
My future bride, this I surrender
My last name, I want you to carry.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 9:02 PM UTC
Good morning, good evening, good night.
If only one person to send this to.
They've no care for many that care say it to them.
Mute are half the expressions in my mind.
Fighting not to wonder my place.
Where may I fall, how can I tell.
Its only dementia to think I'm just an afterthought.
Surely, I know I'm more than that.
Or am I only debris awaiting to be salvaged and rebuilt.
Trying is not a crime.
But prying from thine time is grim.
Walking the streets with my feet and mind doesn't assail the pain.
Yes I've committed a crime
but sure HE wont leave me no day alone.
Not even the one YOU sent
To rest my head on is always there.
Not even my friend, to no one I can lay it on them.
Working favors those are all the words
The exchange of tongues use
No one really cares if this is
A real good morning, good evening, or good night.
Its just a prefix or suffix for the favor they've asked.
For there's no answer soon, later, or after
If I just say it because I meant to say it.
Good morning, good evening, good night.
Guess its avoidance of the void in the meaningfulness of such words.
If someone cared and I needed you to respond
Guess its better not to lead a farce and leave me in silence.
Jul 27, 2011
Jul 27, 2011 at 4:30 AM UTC
Since when did a letter grade become more important than my personal health? A burnable piece of paper with letter grades and the same teacher comment repeated, became more important to everyone to know my "knowledge". That isn't knowledge if it's just forcing yourself to burn those words formed into a sentence for the definition of a words prefix and suffix. You barely remember anything because you focus on it for a week or two and then never go over it again. But if I oversleep or miss my bus or ride, or if I fall asleep during class or spend the majority of the year in the nurses office it's my fault. It's my fault to show that "HEY I CAN REMEMBER THINGS LOOK SEE I GOT AN A ON SOMETHING I WILL NEVER USE IN MY LIFE OR WILL EVER HEAR OF UNTIL MY KID IS SITTING NEXT TO ME STRESSED AND WORN OUT AND TIRED BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO CLUE ON HOW TO DO THIS AND I CANT DO A **** THING BECAUSE I DONT REMEMBER **** BUT HEY AT LEAST I PASSED RIGHT?"
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
I am one.
I become two
with you.
Three, maybe,
if we get lucky.
but my prefix is un
so I am one.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 11:28 PM UTC
When the dark night came with her rain.
my body and mind had started to pain.
As I weighed the cost of my task against its gain,
I felt I was fighting in vain!
Little by little the night progressed,
the things in my to-do-list regressed,
with my work, my heart felt impressed,
which in turn, left my mind digressed
my blood drained
my heart pained
my spirit waned
my mind craned
I started worrying
my stomach started churning
my eyes started crying
my mind started burning
I looked into my past to find some solution
I had nothing left to accompany my determination
I was stuck in this camp with a prefix of concentration
And I was left with a ton of assimilation
Oh, how I wish I had a Nanny McPhee
especially now, when my heart sighed, Oh, Gee!
with no more fresh n fighting blood left in me,
At last, I took refuge in my old friend, Coffee!
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 2:55 AM UTC
I'm like the prefix mono
I can be put with other people
Oh, so many others
But I'll always be alone
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 8:51 AM UTC
a guy sits here
hair a twist
no ordinary man
but a case
whatever prefix fits
he knows no limitations
seeks no thrill but fear
holds no memory dear
brains grasp simply too frail
such a broken outside
and gargoyles pier
however
he tranquilizes them
anytime someone comes near
yet the people abstain still
no shame, no cheer
they simply cannot see what purity
he has in his crypt
intimidated
severe
so let us move forward and glaze over the thick
move towards the misery which anguishes him
nonsense is sensical, whimsy at best
rational is of logic and dreary
detest
********* and thumbing
he frantically does his best
pulls his hair out
pulls his hair out
closed fist
punches chest
"where is she
where is her
name i cannot confess
for it escapes me...
not because
but rather-"
due to his distress
he stopped and sighed
violence
cried
broke down
then bled
red from his eyes
i want her
the sad one
shy
hurt inside
abused, accursed
diseased but undisguised
she'll love me
she will
there's nothing there to hide
she'll make me forget myself
sing or dance or
romanticize
"i want her...
a baby's friend
the neighbor's newborn daughter
the baby friend that came over
as an infant, i saw her
i kept the same heart
but its been through a lot
and now its done with slaughter
i kept the same heart
its growing apart
i need the neighbor's daughter"
it seems as though convinced
he truly had the heart of a newborn
ambivalent
knowing no complexity
purely hurt or comfort
either way's a shoulder
diamond or dirt
seemed to be bipolar
so he seeks the same
not the opposite
that would be a shame
because no one else can relate
to someone who feels the world
has turned its back on fate
he seeks out this girl
overlooking
all the beasts in his way
with evil colors they mask their face
appear to appeal, they may
but he knows better
their defenses fragile
they attract a plethora
to which they expose
like a sinister rose
the black rock in frame
the black rock so hard
shapely carved
to which its "blacksmith"
inscribes no name
a black heart
he sighs
which holds no light
might as well not exist
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 3:39 AM UTC
Stark dark black limbs
Breast eyes beak wings
Abysmal feathered
Garments; a messenger.
Mal to prefix, as well,
Remnants from the abyss.
Not malicious, for delicious
Is a delight dragged
Out of any carrion.
Not carried because
They carry enough
Is too much for
These observers of us.
Screeching their squawks.
Perched on boughs for talks.
Of malign imminence.
To coalesce friendly fragments.
Found at any crossing's discourse.
Gusting about an eerie force.
Beacons upon who to bereave.
Portent displacing fallen leaves.
So we re-member
Our piece by piece plummet
Into that omnipotent
Stark dark descent.
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 7:08 PM UTC
.*who said i was orientating myself around the body? the body to body dynamic is so.... easy... excessive salivation... like a dog... i don't want the body... i wan the existence of the non-existent parody of ego, in the form of soul... i want, what secularism abhors to lay claim of... i've been to a ********** i know what selling flesh looks like... but i've also walked into a forest... and i have, managed to peer into a night... where i also managed to forget being equipped with a shadow... no... that wasn't it... true structures emerge when you've been abused... and the counter structures? the abuse... slows down... in the most realistic ordeal of anticipating near, but. never realized completion... what, a, leisure! the forest, the moon, the shadow, the crown... all that's missing is a poetic vagabond's (of an) incision into a soul... the tired yawn of a lion ingrained in a delusional concern for the depth of man... oh the leisured man... and his vantage points... prompts of a view with a missing lot, curiosity... cradle of the curiosity... cradle.. how else, if not coupled with...
a curiosity coupled to a, grave.*
deity, of fixed,
stature;
within the confines
of the prefix
omni-
what am i,
what am i, not
to think,
to encompass,
"the", all?
maybe some
clown-male-up
would-help?!
now i better hope,
that it does....
were we not oh so inquisitive,
concerning
the origins of said,
story?
sure...
sure...
such a feeble god...
bu what a more than
overtly feeble
invocation
of a real god!
what feeble reasons!
for whatever
is testified
as a, "feeble" god
to be conjured!
**** you!
and whatever comes with your
grievance of sharing heritage!
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 8:49 PM UTC
Do you find it
boring
to spell out the word
"subconscious"?
Not the way I spell it.
Many step onto the first "S"
as if it were
a ***** rain puddle,
but I'm sufficiently alert
and can see that one must dive
into the word's application,
nimbly rummage through the
annals of its history
before conducting one word
in or against its favor.
Glide downward
through the
rhythmically breathing curves
of the voluptuous prefix,
"sub-",
as you begin
dreaming
further
down
towards the comatose
of the rickety construction
that is your superego,
to the "you"
no one knows about
in clear daylight
(even the mirror).
Minor turbulence
may occur
within the rest,
"-conscious",
just a few jagged rocks
stirred into Cloud Nine
to alter your perceptions
like a face hit by a bus.
This is the meat of your matter,
the acidic ruptures
that only the most cunning
infiltrators
can identify and nudge
with their index fingers
using a painful precision,
the ***** band of undergarments
that always seem to loiter behind
in the town laundromat.
But a jagged rock
is a jagged rock,
never eternally bordering
the outline of the planet,
just lodged within the corners
of your comfort zone,
their presence
a necessary evil
for the times you must steer
through the swarms of cataracts
and endure the exrcuciating agony
of becoming a better human being.
You launch yourself
from your adolescent crutches
like the roots of teeth
erupting from the base of the jaw
and prevent single definition,
hack away the tentacles
of emotional paralysis,
by remembering to mend
the tear between
two polar halves,
"sub
conscious."
Under your false promises,
your Freudian timeline,
your ever-quivering Id...
every single one of you.
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:53 AM UTC
Its not the point of killing faith that u will find someone.
Its the action of loneliness and controlling your bonds
Its empty alone and so is pretending to love
You cant make connections not like addiction to drugs.
Save the drug of infatuation.
No reason just meaning less
No selection. Just what drips in your lap
No focus just lenses that crack
The sextant marking starlines that guide your path
is no longer Coordinated calibrated to designate a map
Walk amble climb along to view a moral prefix
to design a way out of a sea just arms length
with the depth of the roots of mesquite trees in the spring
We are all stowaways in a ship waiting to jump to shore.
Trying to find a place to spill seeds in the tilled rows of a *****
The words you whisper are pretty and my minds enthused
tho i know every go at this game i shall lose
Im wandering in a labyrinth
Chasing in a brain
like a rat in a spinning wheel following reflections from a cage
You tricked me. Oh yes. You win
Im no longer a man like all women before you ate the innards left a shell
spit out the hull
Dragged my meat to the floor
One final kiss and i leave, i am missed
You say lies again
i pull off your fist
its on my head
its in my throat
i read words that you spoke
its not my fault
its the blood clot
keeping us unconnected in this note
I am dreaming
secret beaming
red lights blinking
help is sinking
No hope between two
softly stroking
my cross is burning
No fires stoking
On my fore arms
on my chest guard
all is sinking with the funeral
All the voices in my head
are telling me it should be dead
yet the ***** in my soul
tells me that he still pleas for bread
But i starve him
and i lash him
and i strap him to this ledge
for he is wrong
and yes he lies
you're the harpy of my dread
You ******* killed me like i was a lame horse to be put down
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 1:30 PM UTC
in love.
inlove.
maybe we called it being in love
because "in" was a prefix for not
and the space between the words
was the void you created when you left
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 9:19 PM UTC