"realtime" poems - Hello Poetry

Pulse echoing in the hollow canal of my ear, A sweet, persuasive sound that initiates the craving, I want to taste you in the sickest of ways, Like itchy centipede legs discovering the back of your throat, A discomfort only a thousand sips could quell, I’d like to think I could resist, I know better; I’m only realtime flesh, Slowly rub your cheek against my chin, I’ll dip my nose into your neck and use my tongue to caress each striation, Until I can taste the carotid reaching toward the holy switchboard, My jaws will not be denied, closing vehemently, Penetrating the silky dermis, ragged vents meant to pourpourpour Vital lifeblood and sustenance out into useful globs of passive alertness, You are a beautiful, tormented creature in which I can bear to look at no longer. I cannot see you as you are meant to be, I am deluded and biased.. Sent to realize truth, only to find no definitive, I will relish bringing about your end as much as my own.

0

Feb 3, 2013

Feb 3, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC

iris-weary

To Mankind

Pulse echoing in the hollow canal of my ear, A sweet, persuasive sound that initiates the craving, I want to taste you in the sickest of ways, Like itchy centipede legs discovering the back of your throat, A discomfort only a thousand sips could quell, I’d like to think I could resist, I know better; I’m only realtime flesh, Slowly rub your cheek against my chin, I’ll dip my nose into your neck and use my tongue to caress each striation, Until I can taste the carotid reaching toward the holy switchboard, My jaws will not be denied, closing vehemently, Penetrating the silky dermis, ragged vents meant to pourpourpour Vital lifeblood and sustenance out into useful globs of passive alertness, You are a beautiful, tormented creature in which I can bear to look at no longer. I cannot see you as you are meant to be, I am deluded and biased.. Sent to realize truth, only to find no definitive, I will relish bringing about your end as much as my own.

17

Another adventure begins On a day to remember On the 11th hour of the 11th day Of the 11th month in 1918 WWI ended But the war continues Between the material and spiritual The Grand Inquisitor in all of us (Dostoevsky) Tries to encapsulate the formless We're all searching for the magic pill Red or blue What would you choose? Fortunately, there is no choice You become who you are eventually It just depends how many lives It takes for a full realization Of this reality A spiritual warrior is always in transition I'm spending the next few weeks traveling from Portland to Los Angeles Maybe on to Peru from there I plan on writing in realtime In spacetime, I'll be riffing Suggestions of where to explore are appreciated That would put a big smile on my face I told my Cree friend of this journey She laughed and called me Thotin Thotin is wind; wind in all forms I told her I identified with water She nixed that: 'water is too predictable, wind is just ****** nuts' We lol'd I guess the wind is blowing west :)

0

Nov 11, 2014

Nov 11, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC

aaronmullin-fb

Thotin

Another adventure begins On a day to remember On the 11th hour of the 11th day Of the 11th month in 1918 WWI ended But the war continues Between the material and spiritual The Grand Inquisitor in all of us (Dostoevsky) Tries to encapsulate the formless We're all searching for the magic pill Red or blue What would you choose? Fortunately, there is no choice You become who you are eventually It just depends how many lives It takes for a full realization Of this reality A spiritual warrior is always in transition I'm spending the next few weeks traveling from Portland to Los Angeles Maybe on to Peru from there I plan on writing in realtime In spacetime, I'll be riffing Suggestions of where to explore are appreciated That would put a big smile on my face I told my Cree friend of this journey She laughed and called me Thotin Thotin is wind; wind in all forms I told her I identified with water She nixed that: 'water is too predictable, wind is just ****** nuts' We lol'd I guess the wind is blowing west :)

35

When ego dies Love flourishes

0

May 29, 2021

May 29, 2021 at 3:10 AM UTC

mystic-ink-plus

In Realtime

When ego dies Love flourishes

2

Loving you feels more natural than the keys I type on all day. Yet my feelings are more complicated than a two dimensional dynamic character array. When I see you, my heart skips a FLoating point OPeration. If there's anything you want, all other task priorities drop. When I'm with you, my heart performs realtime. After being about all day, I want to be your \n I just can't compile how you make me feel that way. But love runs on it's own, without language or syntax. For you, all my procedural rules are relaxed. To you, my dear, I will always be (boolean) 1 For all my love are belong to you.

0

Sep 28, 2014

Sep 28, 2014 at 3:52 AM UTC

andgetanaquin

just like programming

Loving you feels more natural than the keys I type on all day. Yet my feelings are more complicated than a two dimensional dynamic character array. When I see you, my heart skips a FLoating point OPeration. If there's anything you want, all other task priorities drop. When I'm with you, my heart performs realtime. After being about all day, I want to be your \n I just can't compile how you make me feel that way. But love runs on it's own, without language or syntax. For you, all my procedural rules are relaxed. To you, my dear, I will always be (boolean) 1 For all my love are belong to you.

11

The heartless ghost beat round and round out heads, We clung to the four posters of our beds, Set sail, a mocking bird to guide We sit and shriek, enjoy the ride The moon takes us all for fools And knocks us to the seaweed soft Bones of dead fish obey no rules We hold scuffed trophies all aloft Then tumbling like the **** that blows Across the desert far from here Yet moon seed all and tells us so Whisperers torment our ears. Then snapping with a sudden jolt A burst if light from lightening bolt The weary dream lifts and we Share in realtime misery.

0

Mar 31, 2015

Mar 31, 2015 at 6:07 PM UTC

poeticlotusmachine

that two minds would merge

The heartless ghost beat round and round out heads, We clung to the four posters of our beds, Set sail, a mocking bird to guide We sit and shriek, enjoy the ride The moon takes us all for fools And knocks us to the seaweed soft Bones of dead fish obey no rules We hold scuffed trophies all aloft Then tumbling like the **** that blows Across the desert far from here Yet moon seed all and tells us so Whisperers torment our ears. Then snapping with a sudden jolt A burst if light from lightening bolt The weary dream lifts and we Share in realtime misery.

16

How can this be? Too deep to understand, too deep to digest. How can this be? How can you turn away, and act as if you were blind to babies being burned, and buried in the rubble, decimated lifeless tinted souls on your vision screen. There aren’t enough adjectives to describe the horrific images. How can this be? The screams of death in realtime stays with me. For I will never forget.... you too should never forget. The screams of death echo and rains on me like the blues. What a tragedy. Too deep to understand, too deep to digest. How can this be?

0

Mar 6, 2025

Mar 6, 2025 at 1:57 AM UTC

aya-4

How can this be?

How can this be? Too deep to understand, too deep to digest. How can this be? How can you turn away, and act as if you were blind to babies being burned, and buried in the rubble, decimated lifeless tinted souls on your vision screen. There aren’t enough adjectives to describe the horrific images. How can this be? The screams of death in realtime stays with me. For I will never forget.... you too should never forget. The screams of death echo and rains on me like the blues. What a tragedy. Too deep to understand, too deep to digest. How can this be?

12

How can we learn to love if loves been redefined in real time?

0

Apr 23, 2015

Apr 23, 2015 at 10:01 PM UTC