"preluding" poems
Oblivious to arcane mishaps
That ****** the bones established by society
The echo of her tattoo sings of a great depression
Each time the memory surfaces,
A twisted grin is born
Perhaps this could be the preluding window to existential purgatory
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 10:55 PM UTC
A soul that has a body
A mind that has a face
Feet have left a trail
A path I've come to chase
The distance that I tred
Behind seems an unfair race
Yet once and twice again
I fail to keep up pace
Is this the fate I bedded?
The choice is right nor wrong?
Sinking, my feet graze the core
Preluding a swanish song
In the wake of my good sense
I feel as I've had none
Rewriting logs that should have been
Yet all is said and done
A chance. I see. I jump.
I make the same mistake
I fall. I cry. I'm crawling.
Again. No sense I make.
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 9:46 AM UTC
For some odd reason I am atuned to rain.
I might be sleeping, working, in a windowless room,
But some how I just know when it's about to rain,
I can smell it in the air, the dampness,
The aroma of moisture building up in the clouds,
Mounting up to one big expenditure as rain,
I can sense it. The rain is tangeble, yes, but to me,
The smell just before is tangable as well.
I smell worms on the sidewalks, squirmy and slimy,
I smell the mossy trees and the wet ferns,
Just before the first drops splash down upon them.
I get a whiff of the preluding aroma and it's entrancing.
The smells bring images of rain and storms, and with it,
A sense of happiness and calmness.
Rain washes away the filth and the grime,
It allows the Earth to be reborn again.
That whiff is all it takes,
To bring a smile to my face.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 7:20 PM UTC
"The Drawn Ones
Not the chosen ones."
~Oda
"Let's go... thru Melodic Existence
Into Hypnotizing Non-Existence..."
~Oda
You can say it
However you want so
But things, come
and go.
Passing by
All Beginningless Time,
The River of
Never-Ending Lifetimes...
Sinous Word flow
Of Ever Rhyming
Saying So's;
So you can say...
Since Beginningless Time
Yet it could Never Be...
And so goes on to Culminate
Paradoxically United...
Becoming Defined
In You Looking back at it
Once Again....
....But otherwise,
A Prison of The Mind
Lost in the
Illusory Tide...
...And with each Passing Facade
Forms Begin to take Shape...
And So The Soul
Begins to Focal-Point,
Preluding a Flowing
Of Coming and Goings...
....Thru Melodic Existence
....Into Hypnotizing Non-Existence
....So it will go;
The Push and Pull
The Ebb and Flow
The Ying and Yang
Jan 2, 2021
Jan 2, 2021 at 8:34 PM UTC
Downpour by the starlight,
Echoes of your name; sightless,
voiceless ere the wall looming; seamless
red string by a braided hind sight,
And I,
By the stirring crossroads,
and the preluding high way;
Finally you,
Across the flaring lake,
upon the entwined clockwork;
Our sadness reflected,
Joy fleetingly refracted.
Under the twilight sky,
In between the chiming fray;
Within a moss-covered clay,
We thus found the stitch to flay.
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 11:02 AM UTC
A wise pope once said
a man's ambition
must indeed be small
to write his name
upon a ********* wall
But for want of superstition
and tales told tall
I'll play that ancient game
....right after my last call
Preluding my expiration
just before the fall
I'll seek the Devil's fame
and inscribe that ***** stall
By hook, by crook,
or explosive indigestion
Every nook, every sideways look
shall bear my ugly shame
For what better eulogy book
than that old ********* wall
That great temple of the read
Oct 25, 2020
Oct 25, 2020 at 10:07 AM UTC
Haunting glades
ruffled by wind
starlit serenades
envelopes souls unwound
the darkness's Æthered aura
on these marrowed hills
the silken moons glazed glow
belays the nights chilling light
correlating perused solitude of
preluding constructs
condemning intentions and
facilitated goals
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 6:09 PM UTC
I am grey and preluding. I have wounded and wound.
When I see truth I hum closer
Just enough, to swallow it whole.
I am not an angel, only mocking.
The lips of an answer, a plotted confession.
Time has been spent on your alter.
It is beating black, with blue siding. I have looked too long
I think my bloodied knees would know.
Yet flames still flicker and each ember dies over and over.
Now I am a field. A woman standing up,
Searching my corners for what she really is.
Then waving high to the doubts, out to the wines,
and low to the moons.
I see her tears, and take to them.
She thanks me in more cries, and softer verbs.
I am her saviour. Yet she hides too.
Each night it is her morning.
In me she has blown away a young girl, and in me a wiser woman
Gazes towards her day and night, like a new moon.
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 12:54 AM UTC
“I have something to say”
He is seated across from me
We are at the kitchen table
This intense look on his face
He has this way of
preluding his thoughts
Almost as if he’s
working up the courage
to be vulnerable
“I need you”
I feel this bubble inside
my heart
“I need you too” I reply
He asks to not discuss
it further
Rather, he simply
wants it known
His intensity draws me
I agree
I smile
“I need you”
“I as well”
Feb 16, 2025
Feb 16, 2025 at 11:49 AM UTC