"satisfyingly" poems
~dedicated to the old poets here~
the addictive pairing of certain words, a line,
a lyric, slap-snapping you to full attention,
unfailing decades of instant recognition,
an adrenaline + caffeine shot that powers
a chance, a tensile injection that causes
the lips to commence a new choreography,
the fingers to tap, a jumbled, hurried, embattled
disorderly mess that regenerates, reformulates,
concords into agreement, a harmonic consistency
a geometry of many differing angles that equate
a hard physical, a soft mentality in a singled work,
coexisting in a sacred state of singed confluence,
though imperfect, satisfies mathematical boundaries
of a random outpouring, crowning the stripe inspiring
the spark that finally satisfyingly silences an ignited
filament a-glowing for years, that holy happens
to cross your antennae, fulfilling the need to honor,
the sacred geometry of chance, the honor to need,
the joy of saying, at last, this unwritten debt, paid!
————————————————————————-
(1) a favorite of many years, a lyric from “The Shape of My Heart” by Sting
(2) Dec 3 2020 2:53pm NYC
Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 2:59 PM UTC
I sought satisfaction in stupid sheepishly and shallow strides.
Scared subconsciously, I swallow and sustain substance for pseudo self esteem strengthening.
I seemed of in service to slumber and stinging sadness, shots sank like ships, submerging into the sea of my swarthy stomach in seconds.
I somewhat sympathies as a sailor, sweating, struggling and swimming in slipping sobriety saturated in my sulking style.
Scanning swarms of serial swindlers, striking sculptures stances of self-doubt.
I stammer in a storm of slurs, ******* down my safety, stopping myself at the stoop of the saloon I see a seductive silhouette staging the space.
She stroke my sight, standing sanguine in scarlet, soul sold in high heels.
The smoothest sculptures in seven square miles were subjugated into scree and I was ****** in submission.
Stubborn staggering suitors, stand shaking silently as she is stopped by sharks stalking and snarling sycophantics.
So straightforward in suggesting their secret starvation to strip sensations, seem by seem, like a sub-par **** cinema scene.
They step and speak short.
She smokes off, stranding the scree in smoldering slaughter.
Its sad this soul-less sanctuary soaking up sorrows.
So self inflicting, and so satisfyingly side splitting.
She sported her spurned, scorned off into sadistic solitude and stained sticky stigma, sobbing to sleep.
So spent from simple stocked, stored and supported senescence of ceremonial subjection of ****** status.
I savior my sincerity, and stretched out of this strange stadium of stooges.
So long scarlet sanguine I sang softly, as she stole my sight suspiciously in sync with hers.
Sacrificial seconds split from smearing stolidity to sharing a smile.
That's simple satisfaction, so I seen scripted in sitcoms and shows.
Supporting sapiens in stasis to see sappy stunners on screen, to stare snoopy, as stabs and slashes strike socially into socialites of so called sanity and sovereignty.
To sweetly pay salvage as slaves of soppy studio slander.
Such is this sorry Saturday night, I am solidified in sedation.
Dec 14, 2017
Dec 14, 2017 at 12:00 PM UTC
Sweet vanilla kisses, amid an explosion of bubblegum sauce.
With lips now blue, we break and share a flake;
The chocolate melting in our mouths,
Like my heart, the first time I met you.
“You’ve got a bit on your nose," I say.
Laughing, you wipe it away elegantly.
Fresh strawberries planted in eager mouths,
Excited eyes blazing in the sun.
This love is intoxicating.
Sinking satisfyingly into a strawberry bliss,
Summer love is planted on the tongue.
Savouring: the taste, the moment,
savouring the one.
Jun 10, 2021
Jun 10, 2021 at 5:59 AM UTC
Everything was fine.
The friendship was steady
Our organs were just in line
Mistake from my brain was ready.
A night, a saudade night.
I was vulnerable so was my thought
At last thinking a sleep would just feel right.
Well, I got closer to the trap my brain brought.
An hour later, I found myself in in a room.
A familiar one, my chaps were there too.
I looked up I felt doomed.
Talked to my brain, yeah this is cool.
Well, we were all together,
happy and bloomed.
A friendly limerence, that's all we had for each other.
The chimera felt me like a perfume.
Suddenly, I decided to leave.
Wanted to freshen up my attire.
But was staring at myself with pure grieve.
Heard a sudden din, was a person I admire.
He stood there, just stared.
Tried interrogating him. once and twice.
But the movements were none, just eyes with care.
Now it was not just him, I too stood there just as ice.
Then his fingers caught my upper arm,
pulled me close to him.
His lips with thirst touch mine with charm.
Mine joined them too and weak were my limbs.
Merrily opened my eyes.
A weird curve ran across my face.
He stepped back, satisfyingly sighs.
Looked at me, smiled, gone were his trace.
Sudden shriek woke me up.
Perverse was what I felt.
But my brain had already ******* everything up.
Amity was surrounded by this wierd belt.
I reached, where my organs retreated.
Walked, each step filled with guilt.
The door of awkwardness met me and greeted.
stretched out my hand to open it with brain filled with jilt.
Sudden jolt, I felt.
A face, made me nervy
It was him, eyes with care and a smile with stealth.
Greeted him usually, but feelings were lively.
But I sure can't deny,
That I never wished it to be true.
Talk about it? I can't even try.
But want that feel of caress, just like a leaf groped by dew
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 9:56 AM UTC
**The Marginal Difference
Tween Child And Adult**
awake Sunday stuff to do...
another unit of life decapsulated,
where one will compromise
with all those lofty
make believe dreamy would-be goals
that course thru the brain,
when sleepy morphs into
the to do list at the premier of today's
wacky wakey consciousness movie
and a poem forms on lips
that have not yet been
coffee'd
into adult responsibility
the list purview'd,
and you purvey,
foresee, attending,
bend back that pointer finger
looking right at ya guiltily
one and enough,
believe getting that one done,
will be
satisfyingly crossed off that
grownup
groaning
tatooed list
of the unavoidable
one will make the
marginal difference....
tween child and adult
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC
So sweet, innocent, divine
A gorgeous face and a beautiful mind
Like her, your words steal my attention
Intriguing my mind to seek your affection
And like she did, you notice my charm
Quite unusual, yet satisfyingly warm
No surprise that our conversations run deep
And even late at night we don't always sleep
Do I see the parallels, plaguing my vision
To mirror you closely to my last proposition?
Are the warning signs blazing?
The sirens screaming?
They don't warn to discontinue
Simply to ensure great caution too
Different, very much, you seem
Yet there she sits, haunting my dreams
And the similarities are enough to compare
(But I wonder if they're ficticious or truly there)
I know that I'm crazy,
no doubt my mind's reeling
But I'm also so broken
That I'm afraid to start feeling.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 7:25 PM UTC
I am certain
Your body, in all its beauty and forms, precedes time.
It's like an infinite geometrical symphony,
A mystical existence in space-
Enlighting the essence to my being.
I want it in all parts,
I want it whole.
Engulf me in all curves and edges,
Tour me in my favorite places.
Your body, satisfyingly disturbing, both pure and dark
I know not, which is sadder-
The fact that I have fallen deeply into this chaos,
Or that you are completely unaware.
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 7:41 PM UTC
"So what happens after this?"
He asked the most profound question
to the most decisive girl
living in this world, in his world.
"I don't know.. What do you think?"
And she gave him the most accurate answer
she could ever think of -- a question.
"Neither do I."
And he answered her satisfyingly enough.
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 9:52 PM UTC
tonight is for chain
smoking
the thing about cigarettes is that they never stand me up
or tell me i'm second best
leaning against brick
lips pressed against nicotine
reliable
consistent
satisfyingly self destructive:
turning pieces of me black
i keep at it
until my throat is stripped raw
bereft of the words i'd never say anyway.
Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 11:34 PM UTC
All alone, I stand in the deserted room,
Where once happy memories did bloom…
Wasn’t it just one day before,
That this room, a surplus of joy did store…?
But now, it’s a desolute rock,
All essence of life it does block…
Gloom and melancholy fills the area,
The whole place struck by disaster’s mafia…
Maybe it was like this all along, but to it I was immune,
When the effects of “love” made me swoon…
For I really was in romantic bliss,
Just before my life ended up like this…
Maybe I was just fooling myself all along,
Maybe from the start itself I was wrong…
But it made me happy, and the room colourful,
And every day was satisfyingly eventful…
But then it all just went away,
Like good things were never meant to stay…
Maybe “love” was just using me,
Before throwing me into a destitute sea…
Maybe, maybe it wasn’t love at all,
But just my lonely heart’s call…
Maybe I just assumed everything that was happening,
Was “love” that into my life happiness was bringing…
Well, it doesn’t matter what may be the cause,
For there is nothing else to cause me loss…
I am, after all, living in an empty room,
Devoid of everything except sorrow and gloom…
Over which “love” painted fake colours,
That washed away along with my tears…
But im fine now, with this existence,
Where nothing else can be a grievance…
So, I stare into this empty room.
Which is in fact my heart where only darkness does bloom…
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 5:20 AM UTC
At first glance, I admired you
You're like playing guitar in a blue moon
My favorite song there it goes,
The night goes blank hearing you.
You sat here close to me
Lifting the strings so perfectly
Yes, it is a melody
Making one dream satisfyingly.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 4:22 PM UTC
Your intoxicating gaze makes me drunk with desire
Kissing my mouth with your warm supple lips
Pulling me in closer
I feel your hands on my hips and I ache for more
You are mine for the taking and I greedily take what you offer
I fill up from your physical touch
Satisfyingly so
I turn to find you in another world unable to keep away
You let out a satisfying sigh before you rise from my side
I hear a low murmur of hunger pangs and know I'm not enough
To keep you full
You leave me alone to satisfy your greed for her hyperbole
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 11:15 AM UTC
The flames that stick
The lies that lick
Ten and six years have gone
And yet only now I begin
To find the truth
In scars among the ashes
You hand me truth on a silver platter
Yet you cross your fingers
That the hideous stain on the underside
Will scamper out of sight
The truths have for four less a score
Been the threshold
Of what I thought was real
You raised me in a bed of flowers
And never bothered to remove the paint
As the petals turned to lead
The leaded falsehoods,
The poisons that corrupted,
I wasted my years
Building among the ruins
What I thought was true
Only to have reality
Eat my lungs out
Nothing seems different
Yet nothing is the same
You don’t know I know
You don’t know I’ve forgiven you
You don’t know that the truth of your secret
Eats me alive.
The worst part?
No one can know
Lest war should break out
So what do I do
Now that the lies
Which provided the foundation
Of the reality upon which I grew
Have been exposed?
Where do I run
When I am imprisoned
With nowhere to hide
In the Hell you expect me to call home?
The bane of my childhood,
These bitter truths,
The ones you have forced me
To realize on my own,
They’ve induced
Humiliation and pain,
Rage and suffering,
Disappointment and shame,
In the dignity of the trust
That was once nearing two decades in the making.
But behind even the darkest veil
Doth the bittersweet cloud hide a silver lining.
Thus it’s been concluded:
Neither in this dwelling,
Nor in that of another,
Not even in this world
Lies my home.
Alas, it seems
All mankind is homeless
Lest he find the satisfyingly loving Presence;
That which can be found
Not by sight, nor sound,
Neither touch, nor smell, nor taste.
Still the remarkable untruths of the past remain
They smolder and glare and snicker and jeer
As they burn my heart out
The silver soothes ever so slightly
Only to maintain balance minimal
Equilibrium numbs the agony ever so gently
Yet as I hack out the blood
While your jagged sword is drawn ever so slowly
From the feebly thumping ***** which in my ***** resides,
The toxic smoke of your despicably blatant lies lingers on…
Oct 10, 2011
Oct 10, 2011 at 7:04 PM UTC
the crisp edges satisfyingly crunchy.
i bit into half a blueberry scone still warm from the oven.
a new recipe you decided to try out.
it tastes delicious.
thanks mom.
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 6:54 PM UTC
asking all the questions but the hardest one
- - - - -
when you say you want to cry because you’re sorry, i want to weep because i don’t believe in apologies
- - - - -
the almost blue sky is suffocatingly beautiful. unfamiliar bed and an all too familiar feeling. limbo limbo limbo under this invisible bar;backbending for the small things, the intangible things. like the dark green around your iris, or the slight, instinctual brush against my cheek.giveandtakegiveandtakegiveandtake,give
-i love you
-i can’t answer that truthfully
- - - - -
i walk outside in the dark and there you are, blowing dandelions with your back on the grass, a friend who shows up when i don’t realize i need it
- - - - -
‘you seem like the type of girl who has never had to watch a dream die’
- - - - -
justification for not sleeping: why the **** break a perfectly handsome insomnia streak? also, music.
- - - - -
roofs, cigarettes, porches, cigarettes, satisfyingly self destructive habits, Tom Waits, coffee black as the nicotine inside
- - - - -
or whatever.
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 5:22 AM UTC
This poem is not about happiness. It is not about the butterflies in your stomach or the stars in your head. Finding money on the ground, or being told you’re beautiful. It is NOT about loving someone until they feel as expensive as the things you could never afford. And it is CERTAINLY not about being loved until your blood acts as super glue and mends the parts of your body and mind where disaster struck, so the sunshine is permanently inside you, and the super glue doesn’t let the storm water in when it rains. This poem is not about sadness. It is not about constantly feeling like you’re breathing underwater, swallowing mouthfuls until your surrender and drown. Waking up and feeling okay for a split second, until the realization hits you like lightning and you’re the storm. Feeling your heart pulverized by the one person you trusted to even touch it. No. This is about nothing. And not the peaceful kind of nothing, where your mind is empty in the good way, in the way that you feel weightless. This is for the kids that lay in their bathtubs with their noses just above water because they have nothing to drown for, or live for. This is about staying awake all night and dreaming about how satisfyingly imperfect it would be to cry yourself to sleep, because then at least they’d be able to feel something. This is about wanted physical pain, as twisted as that sounds, because your body is so numb. When your mind is so far up in the sky, yet the fires of hell burn the lining, you dream about being knocked down into the dirt, because then you would have scrapes on your knees to show for it. This is for the kids that, when someone asks them how they are, genuinely have NO idea of what their mental state is. Unstable. Unstable yet stuck in the monotonous routine of waking up to go back to sleep. Because dreaming is better than reality, because emotion might come. Because sometimes feeling isn’t bad when you’re so used to an empty stomach and hollow bones and a mind that can hear the echoes of its own voice.
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
That first, frosty, autumn morn
I ventured out into the woods.
It was crisp and cold,
My breath hung momentarily in the air.
The trees had shed their leaves In the windy days
And were now carpeting the forest floor.
My first step onto the russet and gold carpet
Crunched so satisfyingly and each step the same.
I set off at a brisk pace,
Leaves crackling and rustling underfoot; so pleasing to the ear.
I continued my walk across this golden carpet
Accompanied by the leaves’ susurration
And remembrances of childhood,
Playing amongst the fallen leaves.
Sep 16, 2024
Sep 16, 2024 at 6:29 AM UTC
I fixate.
Mostly, as a self loathing (or was it loving?) person, on myself.
When it’s not me it’s you, stranger.
Guy who smiles at me.
Girl who stares.
Adult who makes me feel like a kid, and kid who makes me feel like an adult.
I see you, seeing me, and I fixate on you until I can satisfyingly conclude that you either
1. Don’t give a **** about me
or
2. Thought about me for a moment.
While I immediately want to know what you think of me, if you think of me, I remind myself that I am much more interested in knowing how long you carry me in your mind.
I, who fixates, will think of you often. I will think of you long and hard and I will stop when I find another whose face is fresh in my mind, while yours has faded like the blue in my favorite jeans.
I, who fixates, wonder how long it takes for me to fade in the mind of you, who doesn’t.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC
She is but honey where pure, perfect passion races
Flowing in all the right satisfyingly sensual places
Somewhere between the slippery sheets digress
A sumptuous tease in a temptingly playful caress
I drip my hands slowly down her bare naked chest
Salty sweet, a delightfully tasty, slow sticky treat
She is the liquid, languid on my wandering tongue
Rolling around in her mouth as she's stung
Hers is the pleasure in the warmth of her heat
Warm flowing honey on milky white flesh
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 12:22 PM UTC
I pick & pick & pick.
I peel the layers off, satisfyingly.
I watch the blood ooze out.
Slowly running down arms and legs.
I pick & pick & pick again.
I tear the skin off, contently.
I watch the skin reveal pink flesh.
Slowly, I feel alive.
I keep thinking of you;
I pick the scab.
I keep remembering everything;
I pick the scab.
Flashes of your face invoke my memories;
The blood runs.
The sound of your laugh enters my mind;
The blood drips.
I go to places that were special to us;
I smile.
I pretend you’re there with me;
I laugh.
I sit in silence--
I talk in my head.
I even scream sometimes.
All while I pick & pick & pick some more.
The same cycle occurs over and over again:
I pick, bleed, then heal.
Healthy, isn’t it?
Nov 21, 2019
Nov 21, 2019 at 8:13 PM UTC
The heavy air hangs over the stadium to watch it waken from its slumber.
It is the eve of battle.
It awaits its hooligans.
The oddness of bears and lions
Facing each other in ritualistic bands
Chanting their devilish cries.
Carrying the raven on their lilied shoulders
As they trudge past their own respect.
It is a long way down to the ropes of war but no one bothers to stop.
But this game is an excuse for fruitful violence.
A game? A simple game,
Fathering all this dense cloud of hate.
How satisfyingly
How triumphantly
They think they have celebrated “The Beautiful Game”.
Both sides shout and bang against the stadium, drowning the crowd with Sounds of war drums to the beat of the stone prison all around them. They tear and writhe at the thought of innocent blood.
But that blood is less innocent than the claws it feeds.
It is a dance remembered, mimicked through the ages.
Danced by men of forgotten unity.
What would their children think?-
But remember this:
Your daddy fought with the hooligans, son.
Jul 19, 2017
Jul 19, 2017 at 7:39 PM UTC
Sagacity aside,
she scarcely suspected that
the strong, stimulating sillage
of her seductive scent
should stay since our sunset send-off,
sweeping me from stormy, sallow stress
into sunny, sanguine somnolence,
suddenly sundering the
strange, subconscious shell
that once surrounded this stray soul,
that once safely shielded it,
severed it.
Succumbing to the
sophisticated sorcery of her
svelte shape in the
sanctuary that is
supreme silence set under a
shimmering star-suffused sky,
I stared up
at the soaring silver sliver,
slowly sailing a serene sea of space,
shining shadows upon this
superbly secluded street scene,
where I
satisfyingly suffered
a symphony of sybaritic splendor:
the saturation of sweetly sung sounds
soldered to my psyche
by that superlative
(surely supernatural)
specimen.
The significance
of such a sensation was surprising:
some several seasons spent,
the setting still sneaks to the surface
of my spirit in settled solitude;
or sprouts spontaneously from the shallows
of stark, sensible, serious subjects;
or spills from my system storage
in those special stages
shortly before slipping into slumber.
Similar to a succulent,
sensitive scar whose scratch
shocks the senses
and swiftly steals sedulousness,
savoring the stretched span of those
several
spellbinding
seconds
last summer
shoots me into this
secret,
selfish
bliss,
to which I
sincerely
submit.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 5:39 PM UTC
Presented with a dazzling invitation to a mystical combination; intertwined at the root; producing crystallized and passionate fruit
Audacious, mystical forces indulging in divine implications upon this tranquil, terrestrial habitation
Lighting your imagination on fire as I explore your natural, innate desires
Fulfilling the longings of heart with no consequences as I soak up the shimmering luminescence satisfyingly enhancing my senses
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 10:07 AM UTC
round plentiful satisfyingly rotund
Peggy was almost two at once
she didn't intend that
just happened
a hormone thing
she was pleasing and still a world of big beautiful
and happy acting
she had hair like Rapunzel flowing like a golden river
down her back mountainside
to her log like legs
and when she hugged you
it was like a polar bear
so warm
she had spares
spare love to give , was grateful
innocent
as a dove
experienced as a *****
made me almost fall deep into love
I am glad
I wore a parachute
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 5:27 AM UTC