"resemblances" poems
City lamps in clusters of concrete
On 18th and Sherman street
The cars pass by scanning me
Each unsound engine roaring
Darting pupils
I feel it on my externals
On my lips and phalanges
Intruding glances cascading over
my silhouette
Deja-vu-like resemblances,
strange
Sunken cheeks look bizarre
and blotchy as the socket drains
something toxic to the veins
that's permeated the future in an instant, like a comet,
encandescent and shimmering like a scale, the awareness fades
Like some dreary mirage
I remember those little band aids
Vintage carnival tickets
discarded on the scratchy ground..
Blue-violet bruises
The paradox of pleasure
A vague creature in
it's discomfort
sitting in defiance and
quivering my sentences
It reminded me of those
incandescent bugs that
smush into Chryslers
With a curled lip, bulging eyes
and ******* up tongue...
Antennaes intertwined like
Twizzlers
Making peace with all
that's stung as the
windshield wipers turn on
Some black tar-smack-oil-
******
My generation consists of
inheriting environmental
destruction and mal-parenting
Global warming. Animal extinction.
Polluting the oceans. Deforestation.
Biting shards off night-time to
suffice for the daily pangs
Shuffling the dregs of karma
to grow roots and vines all about the room
It's not Winter yet
Under this morning dew
I envision it in my mind
A crystal ball vision
contorting into smoke
I caught it in my breath
Catatonically hanging
A turtle with it's legs bending toward the sky
Searching for my tribe and a pulse
on this Earth in sentient souls
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 8:18 PM UTC
Some associate a faded mint
with either the speckled mint chocolate
chip ice cream from their nearest shop
or the chipped colors on her fingernails
that were the perfect spring shade.
Personally, I recall the sign
at the café down the street
from my cramped two bedroom
apartment that the three of us shared
after they separated,
soaked with nostalgia and resentment
and appreciation for the new home
I share with our new addition
in a much nicer city
where all the houses are beige
cookie cutter resemblances,
but I can take refuge in my car
for the night and not fear
what lies outside the frosted window.
April 14, 2014 8:54:27 PM
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 2:11 AM UTC
Dad,
Can it be that you are gone now,
Five years' comings and goings,
Five solar journeys now, around the sun?
I can still see your shape,
Thin and worn,
Overalls, too big,
Cap pulled down,
Pliers hanging at your side,
Lace-up boots, worn,
And your face, lined,
Eyes still twinkling, though
Weary after a day's work,
Fixing,
Farming,
Fencing,
Feeding.
In my mind, you're
Going off to the barn,
To hay the cows,
Like an old imam
Heading mechanically
To daily prayers,
Moved by routines
Impossible to ignore.
The man and the work,
So embedded in the other...
No more thought of leaving -
Though as a younger man,
You spoke of some day retiring -
There was no way, and no desire,
Farming was your one remaining fire.
So, five years are gone,
And yet, everything still
Standing on the farm
Bears resemblances of you.
The peeling buildings, sagging still,
The gravel paths you tended,
The panels your hands welded,
The barns and sheds you built
Still stand, and bear the evidence
Of Arthur Bouchard's hands.
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 12:36 PM UTC
'Eternal Return'? Why?
If things will keep recurring
why are we exerting so much?
Would I share a gleeful laugh and cry a passionate cry
Knowing the same happiness and sorrows will recur
again?
It took years to reach a summit, toiling and crawling,
A slight imbalance, and again we are hurled to the beginning.
Is, Sisyphus, only a mythical figure? If yes,
then, why I see him in me?
Take a handful of men of bygone days, and contrast with
Our time, drop the embellishments of each century,
And see the emerging pattern, ask them, what are the ways
That helps In curbing the pain, answer;
"Slowly the pain is eased but increased the suffering."
Are pain and suffering different?
When was the last time you loved someone?
Do you remember the days after they were gone? Yes?
Then, why are you in love again?
And most importantly, whom are you in love with?
The person or the suffering they bring?
If Everything recurs 'ad Infinitum',
Then can we avert the things already occurred
In past, from occurring again?
Or we have lost the aptitude for resemblances?
Invention demands an offering of natural ability,
Have we gained half of we lost?
What is the tipping point for this offering, this trade?
It's good I do not have to worry much,
For me, the world ends the day I die.
Mar 22, 2020
Mar 22, 2020 at 11:53 AM UTC
Yellow is ***** or is it? I know a lot of yellow people that think like dishwashers
spinning turning loose their causes for finding likeness compatible. I know people that like to machinify the living and talk about furniture as if it heard the rumors in the fabric already supposedly threading. I know people that lust after red draping rooms thinking it more desperate than the sun I’ve seen them click at it looking directly into the lighting of things making drama more dramatic than modern living. I’ve heard people make relationships out of these resemblances as if every eye had an ear to be heard without looking making silence appear chilling but every bit thrilling. Was it just yesterday a girl confessed she named her plants with each passing lover? There are people that attach themselves to objects so violently they fall in love with a chair a chair worth a thousand words more than it gives in its cedar vintage dress but that’s just one chair. I know people that vacation to inns retreat to estate sales to hoard stories in bracelets and oil lamps tracking floorboards with time uttering words no longer used like duvets and chesterfields and smirking into their dusty reflection from an embroidered hand mirror. I know people that would buy used postcards. Yellow. All I’m saying is I know people that avoid white at all cost.
Jan 29, 2012
Jan 29, 2012 at 1:41 PM UTC
Note: Any resemblances to any real-life ******** are purely unintentional and deeply regretted.
********
How they make us dance,
It is neither artistic nor pleasing.
********
How they stripped us of our rights,
It is neither pretty nor artistic.
********
How they bungle with us,
It is neither acceptable nor honorable.
********
How they make us suffer,
It is both sadistic & regretful.
********
How they skin our pockets,
It is both spooky & scary.
********
How they exploit us to thrive,
It is both villainous & ugly.
********
How they manage to silence all mouths,
It is not unknown to any outsider.
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 10:27 PM UTC
I can only imagine,
That if the stars aligned in my favor,
that the moon would show me it's face,
purest and truest form of blue,
And it would remind me of you,
Shades of gray -- all of that too.
I watch the way you pull on the tide,
But I also watch the sun set every day,
And it never changes.
If the sun whispered to me,
I would probably watch the world explode,
Little drops of our oceans,
Slowly dripping and curling around my fingers,
Awe-stricken and breathless,
I lift my head from my pillow,
Only to find you life-less,
Dreaming, much deeper than I.
If there was anywhere in the world I could choose to be,
it's under your eyelids,
And I would proudly ask the Earth,
to give me that very chance.
I want to be more than a passing glance.
Nov 17, 2010
Nov 17, 2010 at 4:31 AM UTC
It is reported
that all reality
is composed of
innumerable patterns of
similarity and difference
all streaming from
a common source
a Formula most simple..
is our modern role
one of discovery..?
the patterns we seek
lying in wait..
our need now
to find a new eye
new vessels..
building up
our inner
resemblances...?
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 9:40 PM UTC
everything was so soft. everything was so calm.
well, except our hearts. they were racing.
and it was awkward, but it was sweet. i spent my time biting my lip so i wouldn't touch them against yours. you spent your time taking pictures, to keep your fingers busy. on the camera, off my hair. and it brought us to our knees, almost. the weight of everything.
why me? of all people, why give me her present? i asked but never got an answer. but it sat by my bedside every night.
we were desperate lovers, desperate for change. desperate for some resemblances of the past, but rewritten.
older, even. more mature.
and well, the heat of the summer lit that flame in our hearts, and the rest of us. and you may have steered that ship, but my hands were on the wheel.
but eventually my hands gripped razors instead of bedsheets. and your kisses weren't sweet anymore. instead of burying your hands in my hair, they were buried in yours - in grief. we both broke, from the weight of the world. i told you we'd never be Atlas and you begged to try anyway.
why, though? you knew i was broken, you knew you were too. with cracks in the cornerstone, why did you keep building?
you sent that canary into a coal mine and you cried when it was dead.
just bury it. you always were so good at keeping a straight face; it won your poker game every time.
just smoke another one, you know you'd want to. why didn't you?
i don't understand why you were so broken. let alone why i was.
and when i asked, you could only say,
"it just all ended so...
abruptly."
Oct 25, 2011
Oct 25, 2011 at 1:27 AM UTC
Fragility is the membrane
As peace is the crux
Our constant search for the latter
Devotes our journey through flux
Keys do not build
Doors, signs or the floor
Keys only open doors
That we build to hide much more
Within these doors hold grounds
For scents and aromas beyond mankind
It merely is a part of our universe;
Finding resemblances is a game of our mind
Locking doors to banish our demons
From flowing, entering and ruling
Reminds us that we must unlock frequently
To invite our guardians patrolling
Without a crack or two
What light are we letting in?
The descent may be filled with darkness
But we are our torch, shining from deep within
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 9:40 AM UTC
I feel
Powerless
In a world that
Acknowledges
Only power.
Do I even exist?
My voicemail has too many
Unread messages.
I live in the vestiges
Of broken hearts.
I bear resemblances
To tragic arts.
I walk through
A world of slaughter-
Finding words to ease the pain
Is getting harder.
Words now,
Only spew.
Words with meaning,
Are few.
A New World,
But nothing is new
Say a word long enough
And it doesn't make sense.
Do a thing long enough and.......
Powerless
Powerless
Powerless
Powerless
Powerless
Powerless
Powerless
Powerless
Powerlesspowerlesspowerlesspowerlesspowerless.
My thoughts coalesce into something they shouldn't be.
Thinking of becoming someone that isn't me.
My family has such a beautiful tree.
Hang myself
As a beautiful leaf.
All we ever looked for was some sort of relief.
All we ever wanted was some sort of belief.
But how could we believe in you all,
When you
Lie instead of talking tall?
How do we believe in ourselves,
When all we know is how to fail?
Oh, cotton candy is falling from the sky.
Pink clouds on fire-
Pink matter.
This world is cold,
I can't stand her.
The heart is tattered.
We never really mattered.
You've been gone too long now.
The tree splits the skies
Rooms filled with dyes
Of pink.
What are we left to think
Or feel
Except..... powerless.
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 5:18 PM UTC
Something about a figure casted on the wall, an image painted black,
A poorly displayed animation of a concrete object.
I was 10 when cars passed by and projected shadows on my ceiling, the
Distorted images paired with a faded sound of night life filled my room and kept me from dreaming.
a sense of nostalgia enwrapped my body,
From that point on I realized my whole life would be dedicated to chasing
After things that have already let go of me.
Looking at year 14-
Shadows replaced parents,
Imagination turned them into
Something tangible, nothing but uncanny
Resemblances between the two.
I was 17 when I encountered love,
He was warm, gentle, and open-ended;
Letters could not form enough words to describe what he made me feel.
I saw shadows in his absence. I named them Guilt.
Present day: throughout this life I have come to find that our demons often
Take shape of shadows, unfortunately that is how they found me.
I have learned through built education that shadows often depict
What our subconscious is unwilling to tell us.
I have lived my whole life thinking these shadows
Were winning, when they were simply a figure of imagination.
A figure of temptation,
Your shadows are not who you are, they are what they want you to be.
Oct 5, 2017
Oct 5, 2017 at 12:47 AM UTC
My God is hungry, he stabs your God;
The people are up in arms,
Though they say your God will raise again-
No gods were really harmed.
No Gods died to further a plot;
They were not experimented on,
And resemblances to people living or dead-
Must always be frowned upon.
The Gods used to own the whole world once;
We gave them dominion over fish and fowl;
But their pedestals toppled lean centuries ago,
And now they can only nod and bow.
Jun 28, 2010
Jun 28, 2010 at 6:48 AM UTC
Broken glass and tightrope walks
Whispers in my own home
Trying to keep out of the way
Fear an explosion each and every day
The way things ended up
Have no resemblances of love
Living a lie is like being dead
Who said zombies don't exist
So if this is you and you see yourself
Living alone with someone else
Existing isn't a life
As each day you die more inside
Take the reigns and make a stand!
Cut the rope and smash the ice
Go outside and scream so loud
Let the world know your back
Find the you, you lost or hid
I promise you, you can, you will
Live and love and don't exist
Be the you that we all missed.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 7:33 AM UTC
I am reminded of you everywhere I go. I see the bustling people and I think of your busy hands. The color of the air perfectly matches your eyes. Even the sounds bring you to mind. I no longer am displeased by these resemblances; I find them oddly comforting. To see someone you love everywhere you go is a beautiful thing to shoulder.
But of this I am haunted: do you see me too? Or am I alone in my indulgence of another? Have you forgotten me?
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 9:07 PM UTC
As I peer into the mirror, what is it I see?
A beautiful face staring back at me.
Though the image is different than that of my own
There are a few resemblances that are clearly shown.
You are there, it is you that I see,
That beautiful face that stares back at me.
Reflections of a love so true,
The bond that was shared between me and you.
The things that you taught me, the love that you hold,
Are the reasons why I am so strong and so bold.
You gave to me wings and allowed me to soar,
You gave to me, life, and I owe you much more.
Cherish your "MOTHER" and the love that she gives,
For a reflection of life, oh, how precious it is.
From this day forward in the mirror there will be,
Reflections of my mother staring back at me.
Jul 11, 2010
Jul 11, 2010 at 12:00 PM UTC
It's a little bit
Coincidental
How you can become
Engrossed
With a new understanding of
Your Self
And start seeing the
Resemblances
Of what you have now been made
Aware
In everyday reminders.
But
Maybe it's just the obvious
Conclusion
Of an average
Idealist
© NDHK
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 5:02 AM UTC
A red, hot mist; a lit match
To a puddle of gasoline.
Anger is a beast, frothing at its mouth
Hungry, hateful and lean.
It is in the husband who beats his wife,
physically, and verbally;
It is in the vitriol we spew
At each other detrimentally.
It is in the xenophobe,
Who cherishes resemblances
And apprehends differences.
It is in the people,
Who segregate into a familiar tribe
Unaware of who tortures us all
Unwilling to unsubscribe
From the delusion -
'I am right, and you are wrong'.
Ire smolders beneath the surface
Until the surface is no more
And all that is left
Is a charred, blackened sore.
It is as corrosive as a vat of acid,
It will burn you to the core;
It will destroy all that is inside you,
And nothing will be left to restore.
Infuriation is a many-headed dragon;
Devalued, unjustly accused,
Hungry, hated or powerless,
Ashamed, anxious or defenceless.
Demeaned, disgruntled, upset;
These are all emotions
That lead to ire and regret.
Yet, it is also self-preservation;
In an unjust world,
It is the burden of a whole nation.
It is the sense than informs you
When you are being cheated;
Like the sensation of burning
Upon touching an object that's heated.
Yet, unknowing and uninformed
We are always at each other's throats;
The establishment is elated,
In the embers of society, it gloats.
For, in this insane, deluded world
Happiness is a rare consignment,
A moment amidst the chaos,
Not a constant incitement.
We must look beyond our petty squabbles
And realise there is more to deal with
Than each other's issues and troubles.
Anger is as addictive as ******
And just like it, it feeds on vulnerability.
Should we unite against our common enemy
It would mean invincibility.
We should not target each other;
Instead we should aim at those
Who have brought us here.
Those who steal, lie and control;
If they cannot, they will cajole.
It is those who have turned life
Into a rat race which nobody will win.
Divided we are controlled,
Unaware of the power within.
Yet, you ask, what if we were united?
Imagine, a whole world's anger
Aimed at the right mark;
That is what I propose,
Before it is too dark
And humanity swallows itself whole.
_________________________________
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 12:35 PM UTC
I wandered along in my dreary life,
Only seeing the grey of this dismal existence.
Holding onto fleeting resemblances of happiness,
I have endured thus far by only a thin string.
I have known pain and heartache beyond my strength,
Yet I remain in the name of hope that more exists.
Then one day I was walking along feeling sad,
When I came upon a flower among the briars.
Just as broken and bleeding as my fractured heart,
I felt a connection to it and desired to keep it close...safe.
So I took it in hand and held it to my heart,
Feeling a closeness to this fragile and beautiful creation.
Two sides of the same coin in all respects,
Equal in our tragedy and in our love for the other.
I would have cared for it in all things and in all ways,
But the world envied the completeness that it gave me.
I watched as this glimpse of true happiness was torn from me,
Leaving me once again feeling incomplete and empty.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 10:09 PM UTC
Haltingly plummeting
Down and downers collide
Into the walls of my brain
Glaciate the teardrop eye
Morphine expand my perspective
From syringe end-
-To the bottom of the bottle I fly
Lines on my cheeks reflex
Down in descending sorts
As I catch the winding specs
Hindrance verify the valley
Varicose gatherings sped thin
Slick my wings-
-With the kerosene that blindly gleams
Tail a lax lolling tongue
Flick the cardiac beat
I silently haven't sung
Tunnel make the flood waters dance
Demise to my landlocked yard
Leave me afloat-
-Scared to touch a tide's happenstance
Detritus rise to sight
Broken glass and liquid
Ride the current to the right
Spaces have no resemblances
Careless dive into my lids
Shake the tree-
-And out come a fruit of strange sense
Zebra stripes combining
The blur awaiting none
Sends my whiskers bestilling
Swimming to the musical tones
Forget where I was before
Taken far-
-Contentment to wake in another home
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 3:44 AM UTC
*coming to consciousness is a must
yet its painful to retain all these words
sordid shards of nothingness
i am learned for i know that i've learned nothing
except what i’ve earned by remembering
plenty of ways to fake a riot
keep quiet or dry it in the sun
sheltered on the run
blasts from guns to gynecologists
solecisms and syllogisms
miasmas of the mind
time unwinds in butterfly defenses
semblances of the freedom we traded
resemblances to our mothers
and our grandfathers in helmets
filled with money left to rot in the sun’s basement
the used ones who wait for their retirement plans
to conclude their lives with guttural fluctuations
effluent and stagnant waters, frenetic daughters
portraits of amazement
the lazy masters sadly agree to replace them
sweaty fixtures grasped our hands and minds
sign language kept silent
stretched out in striated alignments
cut me some slack
for there can be no turning back from this place
she gave everything away save the furniture
which wasn’t hers anyway
once it takes a hold of you
it doesn’t like to let go of you
grab the fire by its nose
and release the hose
if you wish to control the soul
water pouring from our bones
i bow down to your ground
we are going home
arguing no more
our moist hearts becoming clearer, nearer
i am breathing louder in my own theater
and in my own studio i am making music
that makes the flowers bloom*
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 8:42 PM UTC