"reinvention" poems
Some are born balanced
On a precipice and remain
Tethered for the rest of their days
Overlooking barely there
Mental images
Fragments of a lucid dream
Of a conjured up past life
Once etched on skin
But no longer there
They speak of
Violent reinvention
And escape
While the hollow speaks
And catapults into spaces
Better left unknown
Psyches wrapped in denial
Running the gamut of habitual sins
Perpetuating legacies of pain
With hands that carry
The burdens of forefathers
Tiptoeing
In the twilight of dreams
Willing for the heavens
To send a spring that blooms
Hearts whose pounding
Reverberates endlessly
inside of ears
Eyes that get darker as they close
Meet with ours
A look
A sigh
Ascertaining a mutual recognition
Of the familiar
Shadows that plague.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC
Hunched, gorging on the pain of others
Innocents, betrayed by acts so like your own
For what? Some twisted pleasure?
Denial? Or simply masquerade?
Foul incubus, disguised by pilfered light
An electronic reinvention of your tale
Wallowing, greedily perusing torment caused by proxies
Judas! Betrayer of the Light!
You'll be unmasked
And truth laid bare for all to see
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 6:34 AM UTC
*Feelin’ like a new model keepin’ thoughts in a safe
Nothin’ but new beginnings while maintainin’ the faith
Of better days ahead, walkin’ away instead
The world on my shoulders while walkin’ on eggshells
Difficult steps lead to redemption, no need for attention
Dowsin’ my sorrows in drinks with a fear of reinvention
Weakened souls lackin’ ambition – ones that we attend to
Distracted by the means to makin’ profit
Pharaohs and kings reach Ozymandias
Castle of the manliest reduced to rubble
Inspiration's a privilege, the uninitiated struggle
Lookin’ to the stars closer to Mercury
Celebrating longer than a single anniversary
Build the padlocked building blocks of the brain, preventin’ burglary
Intellect protection needs remedial advancement
Followin' the lessons and morals of real testaments
Crimson waters divided by Moses, halving the sea
Aidin’ people across, the shepherd leadin’ the sheep
Heated cycle of violence by disciples
De-escalated by the sacred teachings of the bible
Able to color-code their understandin’ with a cipher
Gifted in nature, minus robotics turnin’ sentient*
WE MARCH!
*Hand-in-hand in unison! A unit full of sin
But we protect the world from Judases,
Our doubts are in the wind
A state of peace we feel the crew is in
The rest will follow soon,
Our inner voice of hate is ludicrous
It sings a hollow tune.
Leavin' this place without askin' just where the exit is,
Keep a steady pace as we're headin' right into exodus.
Lessons are taught to help you rise from the fall,
Nirvana awaitin' – you better answer the call.*
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
Here I sit in a shed,
fueled by an appetite un-fed.
Unfortunately not for a burger and curly fries
But a distinguishable visage who tells no lies.
But then again if I continue to wait,
everything will be simultaneously late.
So I guess it's time to get off,
of an image more fictitious then something by Boris Karloff.
Just a Frankenstein of my own creation,
seeking some known relation.
While inhaling more than air.
Taking an unformulated dare.
Apr 13, 2012
Apr 13, 2012 at 3:20 AM UTC
You are cyclic like
the change of seasons
in your reinvention;
robust is your passion,
a mountain brook
that embraces hills
plains, fields and ravines
without any restriction.
Instantly you would imbibe
any message, air, wind or water
sends through flashes of intimations,
nature's child you are, a woman
in sync with the moon in your veins
and the sun that seeks you from my *****
I only follow the music your heart strings play
that in my psyche resonates, every moment,
it makes easy navigation in this planet my right.
You and I move through the waves rowing
shoulder to shoulder, singing spiritedly barcaroles.
The feminine in me is under your tender care,
I let my masculine self be in communion with yours,
all merging in harmoniously, resulting in only ONE.
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 10:07 AM UTC
outside, my
professor lights a pipe beside the daffodils,
and we make small talk about the cigarette butts in the dirt
and the history of natural science.
He travelled south in a small blue wagon,
for no particular reason
except the summers are dry
and the air is silent,
….
inside mould grows on glass
windows, wood rotting damp
dissipates the rain through its splinters
cracked rooms containing muses, alight
with the glow of creation, reinvention
I am taught to eat with chopsticks at a fast food restaurant
each Friday night; I learn
to break them in two before I eat,
dissect myself in certain manners of precision
indulge in cakes with sprinkles
spires
lining streets
the lamps in the evening
dull for flashes of traffic
souls in sachets about to be added
in a hot drink, or instant frappe
we dissolve
into particles
about
the place in
certain manners of precision
break in two before
we indulge
impart
chromosomes collaborate
in the rooms,
in the mage’s quarters
dollar bills are sniffed and sorted
LSD and Ecstasy crossed, contorted
butterflies have patterns in conversations
on their wings, in teacups, sipping Spanish ***
drag my son up a hill to **** him,
in the ash tree foliage, faces in the sky
and ask of grace
deliver me to the divine class of men
what am I if only captive to contagion?
After all, I spread across windows
like mould each hour multiplying
to become sporadic, spatial,
discovering the heart’s variation
insofar as we are variable
asking Sophie, my daughter, to empty
the dishwasher, I pray she wonders
why we have cups
of coins in our pockets
why we ache
atoms
about
the place in
certain manners of precision
break in two before
we indulge
impart
chromosomes collaborate
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 8:36 AM UTC
They're never as pretty as you.
Never as passionate as you.
& they sure won't be as understanding as you.
But, it's easier with her.
So, instead of wondering why..move on.
Let him be with her.
Cut your hair.
Reinvent yourself.
Pick up a new hobby.
Read.
Write.
Live.
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 6:36 PM UTC
(I) Love Thy Neighbor As Thy
self
~
*how I would
honor this with
joy effervescent,
this simplest of methodologies
if only I,
could permission myself
to love myself
if only I,
knew
how to love*
~~
(II) redemption: the city of man reinventing himself
*busting bursting, this city,
ceaseless change,
old discardation,
how blind am I,
skyscrapers built in a day
how have I failed to notice
the estate changes
a master plan unknown,
the reasoned limits ever stretched.
in defiance of taste and sense,
obedient to Babel tower's net-result,
the miscegenation of language
but this is a ruse issue,
an example of me/man,
this new born spawn,
a wagging tail of
a man I know,
a failed inventor,
nary a patent
to his name
years on years
he patiently awaits
for one true inspiration
a redefinition, a redemption,
a reinvention, a new cornerstone
to lay upon it a new foundation
just a clue, a single block,
he can clean erase
start over, inaugurate
a recommencement celebration
to begin the same mistakes
here be the rub,
the irritation,
the seed comes implanted
and then
wind spread
can be only repaired, replaced
when cross pollinated
with the love of a foreign body
and his only crime, love poetry,
his crime alone, for unopened
it, and he, both-awaiting the time
when others come impatient
to bulldoze him aside*
~~~
(III) Three
three
*an oddity
an uneven symmetrical imagery*
"only love poetry"
*a three sum,
- three legged stool-
there is nothing new under the sun,
whispers the Psalmist
this I whisper
only, alone, one,
be no such!
only love poetry
until*
~~~~
postscript
***if only I,
knew
how to love***
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 10:08 AM UTC
Where are all the gods
Of reinvention
I need to be washed
Of all this fear
Still don’t know
If moon is friendly
Or is the reason
For all my tears
A heart does miracles
But I’m stuck
Inside of mirrors
Made out of his luck
I need thunder
To signal lightning
I need it badly
Electric shock
Everything sparkles
Without the panic
When can I be there
Alive not manic
Assured by the world
That my ancestors
Assured my fate
Through DNA
This is the advent
Of the anniversary
The coming out of
My adversary
Some say he’s horned
Some say her nails scratch
Some say the world was
Not made but hatched
Are you still listening?
Are you still listening?
Are you still listening?
I beg you, listen
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 4:40 PM UTC
A constant reinvention where the outlier becomes the mainstream and circulates back to the outlying regions. Beautiful layers on a bed of kindness and understanding.. compassion mixed with passion and hot tempered moments of reality checking in-your-face murals along the textured walls..seen through crisp, foggy mornings.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 2:14 PM UTC
Strange that something so accepted should still cause self consciousness before I approach it honestly
The relative anonymity this site gives me is for some reason still not enough to stop that pressure in the back of my mind
Here's me standing between that I guess, a self evaluative expression that deep down I'm okay with who I am
I'm lucky I know that much, living in a social culture of indifference from friends and family
My heart goes out to those prisoners behind abstract bars, walls constructed by opinions, traditions, religions
Who find someone with their own body shape attractive, a subtle reinvention of their minds and eyes
A smile that is just that little bit more reassuring thanks to a comfort in the air you can't quite put into a definitive shape
After one abusive encounter that still makes me ******* teeth biting angry well, I can't imagine that towering over me every day
I've said it before, I'll say it again, I've got a lot to be grateful for
Me well.. people joke that I'm one of the greedy ones, that I can't make my mind up one way or the other
There's a certain truth to it I must admit
The day dream of another as sub consciousness fades in similarity, that person staring back at me with a sheet covering up to a profile
Either seems attractive in that figurative make believe image, something concluded in the struggles of psychology
But forgive me if a certain pessimism surfaces from the prospect of earning that image, showing real social certainty towards whoever it is I'm curious of
But that's beside the point, a daunting prospect for anyone who stares silently into a crowd with a drink in their hand
Those comfortable with it getting a silent smiling **** you for their confidence
Despite all the usual traps and speed bumps, there is a certain ease to it all though
Whoever is eating that pizza with me, on the phone to me, sharing a shower with me
I'm at that point as an adult with a clear mirror
That I know its what I want, I know its okay to want it
And if there is anyone out there, with whatever representation of reality that perceives a problem with it
The ****** can **** my ****
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 4:23 PM UTC
I looked into the mirror
I saw my true face for the first time.
For the distortion of "should be's" definitions...
"What I need to be's" definitions...
They were erased from my planning board.
Of my reinvention...
Television stars are "everybody's fools.."
As I listen to Amy Lee sing..
"People's entertainment" that my mind tricked me into having to imitate. Inadequate tools.
In my "wrecked toolbox" that I thought that I need to bring.
As I started to look at those "real" stars around me... Ones who selfeshly started to reeducate..
My mind to restock the tools in my once "wrecked" toolbox...
I saw what my face truly reflected..
A beautiful man mislead by needing to be "seen" as someone... A shining "star.'
I once shined just as bright until my insanity wrecked it.
Now that I've rebuild what I have destroyed...
I'm the new "man In the mirror.."
As I hear Michael Jackson sing "making the world very clearer."
Looking back at what things that I truly have achieved... I see a clearer image of my reflection in the mirror...
Images that are the "truer Me" and such are much more clearer.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 5:43 AM UTC
True bliss comes
in reinvention of the self,
when zero
expectations are held.
Yet you still
have full faith
in the numerous
possibilities that await.
Mar 19, 2019
Mar 19, 2019 at 4:53 PM UTC
Jarring heartbeats disturb the
Infinite flow of ecstasy. It has
Nothing to do with the immanent
Kaleidoscope of life or love. It is a
Yearning of spirit blighted by wounds.
This day marks a beginning of
Ultimate reinvention of a heart
Birthing anew---leaving the old;
A dawn transmogrified into purpose; a
Lingering thought of living
In search for my being,
Not for the sake of having, but
Against the conventional meaning of
Love, this day marks the beginning.
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 1:01 PM UTC
reinvented....time and time again until it lost its sanctity
just like saying the word- love- broken from overuse by lesser men
keeping composure in the worst and losing it in the best
you asked for this side of the fence
you chose it
you love it in a sick way
it is now time to reinvent the reinvention
and instead of trying your very hardest, weak one
you will become
all the poems you draw your power from
all the strange daydreams that championed your thoughts until they were melted in the forge of complacency
as a reinvented man cowardice has no place
in any form
self control is most painful when you cant see why you are controlling yourself.
but you shall
and you know why
and you will never ever forget.
and then when you find for yourself the answer to why you act this way
you will have the peace of mind enough to communicate with others about it wont you?
don't forget
Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 2:48 PM UTC
The montage of faces
from all corners of the globe,
new tounges, thoughtful eyes.
A generation safe from past
strains of inhumanity.
There's no hobsons choice
only permanent reinvention.
The glory to be who you wish
the edifying gift bestowed
from England the hub of the free
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 8:34 AM UTC
Waking up.
Groggy, disoriented, slow
Grains of sand falling to the wind from their puffy bags of rest beneath the tear ducts.
The eight hour cave of warmth and hibernation is ripped away leaving a brisk breeze to overcome the heat that was known and loved.
Feeling uneasy and sick while standing, forcing a shuffle to the restroom fills the mind with yesterday's quarrels.
A look into the mirror shows the remaining anguish staring back at you, grinning wickedly from ear to ear.
A breath of courage is taken, the worst is over, the war was won.
Eyes lock on their reflection, filled with life, no longer empty shells.
Unused muscles become sore from smiling, an exhilarating euphoria taking hold.
Deep, cheerful bellows of wind escape the lungs in short high pitched bursts.
Laughter.
A familiarity long forgotten returning with a reinvention of what used to be well known.
The person in the mirror is unrecognizable.
Alive, excited, happy. Life is re-beginning.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
one is in a constant state of reinvention,
molting,
feathers in cascade,
barely hiding ****** and birthmark,
no such garment exists.
one is constantly healing itself.
save for other days,
when direct sun poses no more threat.
eyes fixed to a middle distance,
where one sits shiva,
avoiding the partial gaze of mirrors,
windows through which one may edit,
very slowly, to draw out its best features,
ignoring revulsion and inequity found throughout.
one lives each day worth half of its potential,
other halves wasted,
excess fruit flesh clinging to rind.
one faces itself,
and sees not oneself,
but the ones that entered, paused in unity, and left,
one should not see exits where there are none.
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 2:27 PM UTC
**A universe in smokey hues of hypnotic perfection
Each change in depth, each glance
a reinvention of self
of my perception of your self
See me naked
or see my skin as it protects my heart
Razor-wire glistens gray
as the blades of a gaze skin me alive
Shattered memories built a person
held together by the very skin
you are burning through
with the heat of the bare truth
I see your desire and it hurts
It hurts as my broken shards fall to the floor
It hurts as your laser vision cauterizes each piece back in place
burned together to heal in the strength of love
The love that is reflected in
smokey hues of hypnotic perfection**
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 11:13 AM UTC
I need heat!
I need to feel sweat dripping down the spine of my back, dripping down, down, down my pleasure crack!
I need never ending sunshine with occasional tepid rain storms!
I need a new romance, an affair, a ***** raunchy, whirlwind, wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am kinda exploit!
I need color!!
I need the arts!!
I need sophistication, class, but I also need hot islander women with mouths like ******* sailors!!!
I'm in need of reinvention, reincarnation, a ******* remix!!
I need people who aren't afraid to get ******* naked and to move with their fluid ******
I need dancing, rockin-rollin-head-bangin, ***** dancin', bump and grind, pop lock and drop!!!
Now.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC
Permanence
in love,
in work,
in friendship,
and purpose.
That is the illusion.
Our calling
is one of
endless reinvention,
course corrections
and start-overs.
That is our reality.
That is our Art.
Accept it.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 9:21 AM UTC
I always dreamed
Reimagining myself
Into someone with more confidence
Someone who is bold, brave, wise
Someone who can achieve everything
I can only wish for
I always dreamed of praise
For appreciation for what I do
Who I am
I strived for it
With each new reinvention of myself
Only to be disappointed
I am constantly unsure
Of who I am
Or where I'm going
And I just want to be me
Without restraint
And I can't shake the feeling
That I've been so lost in these ideas
Of who I should be
That I'll never be able to find
I'll never be able to be
Appreciated
For who I really am.
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 3:17 PM UTC
A change of heart,
scraping at behavior,
a hope of better days,
not always so easy.
Reinvention of idealism,
rebirth of the renaissance,
a truth or a lie,
who's to say?
Love is right,
but not enough,
the world is cold,
and though the lines are connected,
this doesn't make it relevant.
An old man's dream,
fire in the bones,
future no longer two toned,
wrought with silver-screen,
and fed to the hearts of youth,
like me.
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 5:45 AM UTC
The Wheel is not the axle,
nor the spot it touches road.
Reinvention is the brief kiss
of rubber on pavement
as the eternal Idea of Reality
remembers Itself in Time.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 8:31 PM UTC