"reconstitute" poems
Whenever I am not seeing you
Lethal void is my heart
Like the monolithic art
Of a sculptor;
Like the figures of Mona Lisa,
I tried to engrave you
Again and again in my heart
And rehearsed you many times
In my memories.
To reconstitute
Your beautiful image
Inside of my mind
I behold you thousand times,
Yet all loving and languishing
Nothing could be captured
To match your perfection
As you were seen in person
Nor could be remembered
To your many dimensional figure
Of youth unclaimed.
You are just beautiful but demure,
Seductive but unrevealing
A love that slips down
Near your lips were forbidden?
And be never told?
Like two balsam flowers unfold
Opening from their buds,
Your eyelids are open wide.
Like two bees ******* honey
My eyes were seeking yours
To ferret out the secret
Of your true love and desires;
Neither did they come out
Nor did they flutter
And never reached out
My beehive safely.
Seeking out for your true love
In your eyes, in your lips,
Cheeks and chin far and near,
Everywhere all over you,
Looking at you all the time.
You are open to interpretation
Of your true intention
Of your love and desires
Like the secret smiles
Of Mona Lisa.
Until you make confession
Of your true love,
I will behold you thousand times,
You are just beautiful but demure
Looking for you all the time.
You make me dream about you
While in my sleep or I am awake.
My discrete memories
Are overshadowed by time,
I cannot fight with my feelings
Whenever I am not seeing you,
Lethal void is my heart,
Come and meet me in person!
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 4:17 PM UTC
Evolution complete:
I am faceless.
That, once recognizable,
Is disfigured and ugly;
And exudes the smell
Of gangrenous life.
Eyes of strangers, friends,
Horrified by my transformation,
Look beyond, toward safety.
My stare will consume them,
And labor them,
Into my hollow.
It is my soul,
Pure and discontent,
That cries for emancipation
And deliverance.
It is the cyclones
Of failures echoing,
Again and again,
Abrading my use,
Paring my value.
The dust in my palms,
Is the former me;
And even the breaths
Of God
Cannot reconstitute
This undead.
I resign,
To the solitary
Choice
That remains:
To free the soul
From its heinous captor;
To bait tranquility
With selfless mercy
Until the final drop
Dries unnoticed.
Nov 4, 2010
Nov 4, 2010 at 11:33 AM UTC
***There was music in his voice
as he whispered his name in ancient tones
straight through my core
My spirit danced
as it basked in familiarity
and pain
I could feel the music reconstitute
a desiccated heart
as it regenerated belief in people...in him
In an instant, I knew what I was once sure of
I knew that, sight unseen, I was bonded
with a soul born in tandem
Circumstance be ******
there will be love
for I already loved you
The second your name sung to my essence
and I realized...
you loved me***
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 11:28 AM UTC
The problem is,
no matter that I walk for a thousand miles or a month, or a year
I find myself back here
where I started from.
I am the karma reconstitute,the weak man or the resolute
but I always come back to the start
and it's the start that's the matter,it begins as I shatter another life that I live and goes on,
that's the problem.
I may be that hamster on a wheel,in a cage I can't see but I feel that it's there as everything spins,or am I the doll you stuck pins in
but,
then I think,if I was punctured
I would not spin and I'm back at the beginning,flat on the floor,what's more,
I do feel deflated,dried up,desiccated but the karma kicks in and once again I begin to evolve and to spin and the wheel feels so real as I turn into what you would want to believe.
When I was but a lad with snot on my sleeve and in my pocket of sweets where
I could then truly believe in some transitional state,I related quite well,
but I grew and it all went to seed
it's not hell that I need but it's hell that I get and yet
heaven's out there,
there are angels in Tooting, (like me) reconstituting and waiting for a share of the pie.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 3:41 AM UTC
The ineffaceable stain
Allegorical refrain
Dictates the wily antidotes for a newfound sane
They hector from a distance
Muted but militant resistance
magical hobgoblins the lifeblood of their persistence
Heterodoxy enters the stage
Cognizant of ignominy, a potent repressed rage
Succor sought, corporate media bought
A pyrrhic limelight is certainly not what was sought
I defer to dignified exemplars
I confer with callous company at vapid bars
Concluding thereby the inverse proportionality of authenticity to success
The articulations of divinity imply rigidity
sweltering soul burgeoning with light sweating an evanescent humidity
If blind before, partial and total sight reconstitute the core
omnipresent paparazzi deplores
Past pities insuperable even with pithy witty
Future pieties irrelevant to ineradicable ignominy and purported dignity
Cupid and cupidity must be related
because gold-diggers alerted to my fair share would be elated
Begrudged at every tick, tantalized by a slow torture lurid flit
I cast my ambitions into the fathomless depths
I amass provisions for a restive hibernation, enduring schlep
Redemptive powers yet articulated
Should ease the prospects of being matriculated
But is cloistered suffering an inexcusable plight
When the deep coffers derelict a modest gesture of making grievous inequities once again right?
Must I swim to distant shores
Past the barnacles beneath and the urchins on submerged sand, very sore
Landmines at the beach, pantomimes and their garbled preach
Past scattershot invective fortified by intransigent misers of conscience, the balmy resort out of reach.
Bleak bleats, meek feats, good eats
I think it is about time for a tyrannical psychology to let me off the incapacitating leash, letting me focus on actions rather than on incomprehensible speech
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 7:49 PM UTC
Convey to a new perception,
Not which is material,
Nor that spoils a mind,
Rather reconstitute,
An equilibrium,
See in between the lines,
Of simple complexity,
That perplexes the mind,
To ask why,
Material over intelligence,
Has such prevalence,
Over I and you,
Conduct rational thought,
That leads to logic,
Instead of inferior emotions,
An effortless current,
Of massive debris,
Lets clean this pollution,
Filled of greed, hate, envy,
*** race, money, religion,
Political, material, self loathing thoughts,
In exchange intelligence,
Efficiency, common sense,
Of practical applications,
Ranging from nothing to everything,
Let it reign intelligence,
From the skies,
Onto these dumbfounded lands,
So one day everyone knows,
c = 3.00 × 108 m/s,
Is how slow we should think,
And how fast we should move
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 10:34 PM UTC
Carry me when I feel small,
give me light when I am dark,
lift me up when I fall,
always treat me the same.
Teach me in my ignorance,
break me down,
reconstitute my prideful nature,
always treat me the same.
Struggle against my restlessness,
listen to my rare flecks of wisdom,
direct me in times of moral crisis,
always treat me the same.
Bless me when I am sick,
hold my arm when I am lost,
love me when my soul tears,
always treat me the same,
and I'll do the same for you.
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 5:13 AM UTC
Learn to have no body. Lap up his anima.
Be a waxy comb of honey spiced w/ chiles
& taken with opiates.
OK corrosion. Reconstitute with holy water.
Education:
Sawdust on the concrete or backseat oral
or sporting shiny badge over left breast.
What have I but a constant state of ketosis
[[[he says he sighs & he
sits on a steel horse
making spit ***** out of
my paper mache eden]]]
hermetic symbols when I closed my eyes,
the days that I was starving.
Learn to have no body and there is
room for only two appetites :
****** and then constructive.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 7:51 PM UTC
In this place where we lived there were
no doors, every room had a mirror.
A reflection of what was, is.
And each was unique to the observation
that was seen beyond the tinted
frame of creation.
Some places were, could be,
not a complete reflection of what was
contorted and beyond the conciseness
of tangibility.
For some places were either hairline fractured,
on purpose or by mistake, most of these had
warnings.
"REALITY DERUTCARF RETNE TON OD,
All who entered these were doing so at there
own health and life..
Some did it for the buzz, some weren't lucky..
The Mirror Collective,
that's a posh word for reflective reconstitutes.
Ladies and gents that fixed the flaws,
fragmented reflections that
could lead to either two version of reality..
An obituary of an abattoir,
where the breaks even though hairline
were like papercuts on the flesh.
And where they stood is where
the pieces collected upon each other..
Some rooms were purposely fractured,
for those who broke the rules
were kept in shard rooms..
These were places where others of less
reputable reflections were kept.
Solitary confinement,
there was just a jagged piece of mirror left,
enough space for a paper plate to be left.
Once there sentence was completed
The mirror collective would be called
to reconstitute the whole mirror..
If they were of sound constitution, not mad...
Then they were reintegrated in to the society..
What they didn't realise is
the lights of different frequencies
were purposely shone within there room.
Nearly all were unseen to the eye,
but were used to program them,
sublimely to have a more compatible persona.
Me I wants like those others, my reflection was
always polished. I would enter
a reflection and be the person who'd stepped
through a moment before.
We were a society mirrored on the refection
that everything was meant to be perfect.
But what we didn't realise that
every refection is distorted no matter how
perfect we think it is.
And the perfection we looked upon,
was cracked beyond our contemplation.
We were just slaves to the mirror of our own
egos..
But what ever you do don't look at the refection
staring behind you,
you looked....
I'm sorry.....
Jun 12, 2020
Jun 12, 2020 at 6:30 PM UTC
My mind is a battlefield;
An ashen Earth clawed away
By birds only seeking their freedom
Who damage so much in the process.
Great valor, hear my cry
That I may slay my demons and reconstitute my trials
Because this mind is a beautiful one
Yet ever so clouded and coiffed at the edges.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
Oh how the beauty of stillness molds my patience and brings me to realize the life within any single experience
If only to rid the mindset of society's consistent pressure on the soul's desire to thrive and then embrace the original pureness of innocence
Where must one go to see the beauty that nature so gracefully provides in order to open the door that we seek with passion
Shall we live fast paced only to give up the part that matters and lose the meaning then look back at the end of it all with wishful thinking
Slow down, be still and appreciate, listen with your eyes closed as it all passes you by and then see that all your desires are possible if only you create them
Fear, in any form, can only exist if you believe it and give it power over you, so strive consistently to reconstitute your surety of positive self control
No man's actions nor words can determine your inner connection with the life you choose, so go forth boldly and blossom and just be, for the only thing that exists is the thought, which creates the action, one by one, and with no sound... How perfect
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 3:58 AM UTC
A while to get the eye back in
reconstitute the faculty
for feeling without
touch
-the repetitious ritual
makes for cover on the open road-
A villainy of tree-lined habits
camouflage, dissimulate,
reject the townsmen fidget
and all must age inside the barrel,
thicken in its oaken recess
slivered for the minutes
of its instinct
Sep 10, 2021
Sep 10, 2021 at 11:21 PM UTC