"senescence" poems
Love bears all things
- or does it?
I don't know how much more I can take
- but I love him.
I'm scared and weak
- I don't know where I stand.
Back to the beginning
- all over again.
Tired of being reassured
- I don't want reassurance.
I want to reverse our love's senescence
- Its death won't procure my compliance.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
Senescence begins
And middle age ends
The day your descendents
Outnumber your friends.
4.2k
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
Like so many
Lemmings
they rush to southern climes for
greener pastures
year round golf a
Slower pace
Cheaper prices and
Tropical temperatures
Leathery
Tanned
Unnaturally taut and
Sun-spotted
they crowd the local haunts and
Clog the highways.
At best they tolerate whoever is not
Pensioned or
Privileged
At worst they ban the
Underage
Unfortunates
from their gated communities
and social gatherings
The pendulum has swung from a time
when the Old were at the
Mercy of the Young
to the present
when Youth is
Oppressed by Senescence
Once democracy’s backbone they now wax
Conservative having obtained their
Slice of the pie
Now there is no pie
Mother Earth has been trampled to death and the
Toiling hands of those who
Stoke the fires of industry are
Blistered and discouraged
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 2:27 PM UTC
colour green honest vanity
tree blades grass evergreen
withers generations comes
ancestral amnesia senescence
countless forms rising dying next
imitation of eternity
nature always fading
comes and goes
flowers greater than solomon
than regal blood honest to God
brilliant transient beautiful melt
undulating ocean of grim gripping
grappling godless colour
green and honest vanity
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
with what sense does
this sea of read
pirouette on?
the soot leaving black
blotches on the ****** sheets,
lampposts do not complain
of sudden twitches
as cacophonously, a line
of machines with their ravenous
machinisms create a seam of
crimson to a slender
rose's architecture.
i leave my engine on
so as to hand this road
my readiness,
Ely Buendia on the tattered radio
leaks outside the ajar windows,
chasing the dream of rearing
movements
as my flesh remains dreamless,
stationary.
there is a sequined gathering here.
erratic simulations of
naked eyes pierce the musk
of the austere air's gravity
of existence.
all of us
occupying space
and our attendance is our
sigh of dismay as our homes
decompose in waiting,
as our beds remind us
of our body's aging clamor,
as our ineluctable senescence
opens the dungeons of our frailties
with its trembling, wrinkled hands.
we are our waiting's consummation
as we are left here,
wary of our precise proprioception,
left in
the tongue-tied dark.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 9:25 AM UTC
Lamentation; infelicity through neurotransmitters
Passing fleetly; swift but disturbed
Grids of brainwaves for the degraded
Overhead LED view is negroided
Chapter 1 Migraines;
A klaxon that grains into migraine
From there on out, strolling convulsion lane
Deriving from deception; antibodies start to lead loosely
Throe after throe I choose not to fuss
Laceration in hemikrania is conversing with the rest of my body,
Frequent as days turn nightly
I host the severe megrimly
Chapter 2 Vomiting;
A horendous bile builds up in my throat
Moaning like a ghoul; I banish the gloats
Disgorging from nothing, Heaving and heaving the dry
Although I force myself not, all the nosh turns into emit rye
Vital fluid very crimson soon came
From the cranium, I dislose, head pain
Frequent as the waves harsh blows
I host a ***** hose
Chapter 3 Tumor;
A neoplasm underneath I've found out
Unvisible but there; my flesh will start swelling undoubt
Below I feel like a mutant
All putant and disformed
Like globular liquids dripping from sewage waste
As long as I can still haste
Crescendo and surge won't ado
Frequent as traffic builds a rush hour
I host a cyst that is sour
Chapter 4 Deaf;
An absense of all frequencies
I daze everso daily;
Feeling like an earless statue; sound unaccompanied
Missing the wind's howls that ululate,
Clamors and bellows that spoliate
I can't sight the same verbiage
Without sonancy to inflicit, I see one big mirage
Frequent as birth enfolds
I host a soundless toll
Chapter 5 Brain Cancer;
A malignant fate told today
Disease spreading like a machine,
Programmed to enquire all it knows
A gruesome and hateful dose;
Withering casually away
Grown apart of, I'm the prey
As we hunt the beasts'
An invisible naked eye is poaching
Frequent as a house infested
I host a cancerous clothing
Chapter 6 Death;
A termination soon to unfold
I am as finished and ruined as story told
Biological function ending
Senescence through spending
User maat I haven't seen all wanted
Alas I am greatful for what has been daunted
Frequent as a death anew
I host a dissolution
My evolution; through.
Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 7:09 AM UTC
You are fragile, yet guile. & even though you say you dont feel the same way, through senescence you'll notice the truth. You'll piece the puzzle together as to why you came every night to see me. Why you stayed when my words were shards of glass. Why you enjoyed my pink and purple love letters on your toufee skin. Why you always found yourself leaving those places to stare off into space with me. Yet, you say there is nothing. Nothing. The absence of something. If that is the truth I have to live with, then so be it. But you'll count how many of those pretty empty ladies stay in orbit between your planets, stranded on your asteroid belt. You look closely, I'm this giant elliptical galaxy within the other galaxies that you'll never seem to escape. I'll dip your thumb In between my lips, glide your hand across the side of neck, through your lips I'll pour a burst of stars right through your cuspid & new stars will form en masse. Then you'll notice that these stars shine brighter, millions of times brighter than a sun like star, and maybe then you'll notice that you did feel something, even if I was only actively forming stars within you.
the absence of feelings, let me touch down twice. & if you really not feeling the kid, let me figure it out minus the lies. Cause ima still navigate through your vicinities, im still breaking down your complexities. I still have galaxies I need to finish building, just let me finish them
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 1:11 AM UTC
Quiescence:
The world yet to be;
change is imminent.
Excrescence:
The world as holistic;
change is traumatic.
Juvenescence:
The world as wondrous;
change is fascinating.
Adolescence:
The world as oppressive;
change is institutional.
Tumescence:
The world as idealized;
change is self-discovery.
Hyalescence:
The world as conceived;
change is forgotten.
Obsolescence:
The world as impossible;
change is unimaginable.
Senescence:
The world as finite;
change is death.
Obmutescence:
The world beyond conception;
change is māyā.
Latescence:
The world as a memory;
change is time.
Putrescence:
The world as continuous;
change is nature.
Rejuvenescence:
The world in utero;
change is birth.
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 6:45 PM UTC
Blood foams out of Mary’s mouth.
Grass on her skirt.
Grubs shift beneath her, trying to breathe.
Pink foam runs down her chin.
Jeremiah hasn’t moved in an hour.
Lying on the grass with his hair rotting.
Bathtub flesh tangled in senescence.
Jesus, where the **** did the time go?
It’s Autumn approaching Winter.
Little nooses run down tree branches and settle round all the leaves.
Hugging them until their necks sever like Isaiah’s.
Eve shakes his shoulder to wake him but his head just rolls further into the gutter.
A dazed expression of absolute revulsion.
Whatever.
I pick up a stick and pierce Eve’s flesh.
Over and over.
Because I’m bored.
And she’s there.
Barely perceiving her own existence.
Shaking the headless body of Isaiah.
While Mary collapses into a black hole.
And Jeremiah sinks into the ground.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 8:58 PM UTC
When guilt burst forth, at Menden's door
We could not speak, we did not know
The toll the rage of men might seek
Through witless priests and burning snow
That Sword was forged in Elwen's fyre
With magic signs embossed in vain
The power of steam in crooked lines
To cleave the brows in villainous twain
Thus Emnoch came to shield the world
A hero's hero of countless girth
The ***** of shame that numbered zero
A blade arrived to state his worth
This dismal feast of brutal love
Will never sate a horse's tune
Senescence and honor entwined in fate
He ever swells that liquid boon
Asunder sliced was Denzhen Yeep
Just as Vile Ben wast slain
The Witches Five broke on the Pile
A magic Pentagon of pain
But do not braise the glance of morn'
We cannot love what has not hair
Embrace the stench of Emnoch's glove
His tale is there for you to share
Feb 4, 2021
Feb 4, 2021 at 6:55 PM UTC
O, be my prayer to the gods, Venus
Strong waters of Stygian grey, they swell
At my feet, whilst I stand yours, Aeneas.
Olympus saw our hearts, both in a spell
But mortal flesh grows weak in senescence
It knew we should never be, for you are
Too perfect. I took this, such deliverance
From hopeless time, myself at your alter.
For if man were to couple with the gods
‘Haps, then earthly loves would not fade so fast
Take a gentle godhand, this man applauds
Aeneas is now a name for the past
She cries, Jove-blessed, ‘gainst my youth diurnal
Where a golden sky is ours eternal.
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 8:37 AM UTC
I spent my childhood ignorant
my adolescence naïve
the sum of my adult life so far
collecting things that adults need
now here I sit at middle age
senescence beating down my door
finally able to see the world clearly
but it doesn’t matter anymore
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 4:10 AM UTC
The net is finer than the spider or silkworm's.
Curling, it catches and flares here and there,
grazing down the ribcage of this world
and occupying all spaces, tenderly.
It has come from the farthest places
where a star has passed into senescence
and no light remains.
In August the silver maples
flip and wave backsides of their leaves,
chiming and tinkling under its protection.
So much air and light
has looped through the beaks of birds
and pulled them down from flight.
Departure is what the speaker inhabits.
A self turning photograph
pulling away during the taking.
But slightly over-saturated,
full of the green turned gold.
The earth will become bald white again,
faultless and raked by the winds.
For now, the net slackens out
over the borders of woods
and resting in treetops, safe to be viewed.
A hawk drifting,
turns over the topography of the day's catch
in his eye.
Shadows close like open waters.
But the low and unending dilation of cricket song
of this month plays well beyond dusk.
Hear it extending into you
like delicate limbs
to enter the ear.
Aug 22, 2011
Aug 22, 2011 at 8:13 AM UTC
Beer is my bottle of sleep,
and I drink enough sleep to forget,
that I'm all alone
I don't have a home,
and my soul will just die when im dead.
Just another scared boy waiting in his casket
or acting a part
its either action or nothing
the mind is divorced
bodies are useless
why accumulate them
in a sack of skin, the cage created
by a skull cap glass brains are wrapped in
transparent and thin
a sleep sheet sewn
by rapid eye movement
encased in bones
the alcohol is sediment settling in the bottom bodies brave colony, of other owners that forage for a loners last remnants of his ostomy.
cavity.
Bags of excretion excrete his thoughts, like lead does to mass graves of forties gulags.
Hes lost all compassion, extinguished all hope, hopes a disease the defectors misquote, cause cadavers decay, minds atrophy as muscle, senescence affects all and with age we buckle, the pressures too great, mans heart is too weak, the blood is no longer pumped to his feet, as he falls to his knees, the earth says “we are one”, as the worms eat the flesh of the casket they've dug.
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 1:31 PM UTC
Day
Day after day
after day after day
Day after day
the dawn will wake
and so will I
From a dreary, dull escape
I'll find the strength
to open my eyes
Through the midday height
I'll guide myself right
for better, brighter ways
(a better, brighter way)
When the weary dusk sets
I'll reap due rest
with honest, easy grace
(shameless, graceful, sweet senescence)
Night
Use the day
Use the day
See, the light
never dies
it hides away
Why not try?
Let life thrive
against decay
Star echo
seems hollow
but don't despair!
(oh, use the day, use your love and hope)
Love and hope
shape our world
just as well
(to shape our world just)
Mar 18, 2011
Mar 18, 2011 at 3:07 PM UTC
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
I watched the scarlet specks slap the stage that resided beneath my feet. She grabbed my hand, some unknown perfect stranger, still confined to her own hospital bed, and said, “It’s going to be okay. You did the right thing.” Returning my countenance, that had thus far been afflicted, with a smile. And oh how I wish I could believe her, but even without glancing up I was all too aware that her eyes were out of her lips’ jurisdiction.
Still I stood in place; my palm yet to be released by this compassionate maiden who I knew recognized her own ****** and pangs in my premature senescence. But again, I focused on the crimson beads that remained between my legs, muddying the unblemished sheen of that linoleum floor.
This junction of misery and recognition of loss came to a precipitous end when the nurse tromped through and encroached on our plane. Hurriedly, she jostled and jammed me into a small bathroom; the impression of the unnamed woman’s touch still native to my hands.
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 2:49 PM UTC
How did I get to where I am
Only thru the senescence of life am I
Sensing nothing earthly at this time
My spirits instantaneous apprehension knows
Shadowed by flora, contained by earth, I lay down
Auras obstructed by man made
Satin and teak, what do they mean
Slowly rising, I sense light, aromas and movement
Invalid dogmas in retrospect , passing obliquely
Obfuscating life as it was
More light, I run before the wind
This is future, I'm free
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 1:16 PM UTC
early this year
gentle as calm ocean waters
lapping along a weir
thumb and fore finger
of right hand would peal back,
(via diagonally flippant motion
asper calendar
representing progression of time)
gets flipped over to veer
in one direction (linear)
revealing the next month at lightspeed
vis a vis tempus fugit galloping tear
thy head immediately lost hirsute thickness,
i starkly share
male or female pattern baldness
extant along
Harris genealogical trunk line rare
yet divulging distress
about limp decreasing strands
sends shivers along spine,
gloomy feeling linkedin
with old fashioned meaning of queer
and perchance tis foolhardy
reeding this Samson night issue must ap pear
tis unstoppable inching closer toward
as mortality gets near
youthful robustness fades
replaced by senescence mere
really ambling along tragicomic stream,
one evinces gargoyles mockingly leer
loosing sleep and kept raggedly awake
in conjunction dreams fraught
with frightful haunting monsters jeer
ring sound reverberating hair
splitting decibel jamming primary cranial gear
aye tell mice elf nothing to fear...
yet maximizing this plight with poem 'ere
Yukon also temporarily part
blond, brown, gold, et cetera locks mud dear.
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 11:48 PM UTC
Meteors compared to falling stars,
the fire flung by pacific angels
against evil spirits when they
approach creation and
annihilation covered by smoke
to near the gates of Heaven;
The casuistic piffle of laughter
and fears the mussiness of
demons detached from
Gods creation according
to their newly venal
violent nature; devotees
for material benefit.
The enjoyers of sacrifice,
the renaissance passion
of faithfullness- the highest
occupational work as chosen
souls of the book of faith
made of eternity are
drawn like water from a well;
verities senescence, fidelities
essence of everything
troth superior to renunciation
via hermetic knowledge and
sense control onus of
life's attachment.
ELEETE J MUIR
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 12:36 PM UTC
when all they grow old,
practices and beliefs are getting sold
to their grandchild ,and surprisingly found some accede
looking at the past few years,
they met with themselves and never lived with tears
yeah,they cry sometimes when someone knocked them down
but they never stayed long low on ground
today, lying warm at bed,
smiling at all memories they treasured,
happy to enter for a long slumber,
and waiting to become a dream inside a dreamer...
Apr 23, 2021
Apr 23, 2021 at 2:39 AM UTC
Truly you once saw through me
Genuine and pure, as though our souls
danced through the spiraling moonbeams;
Entrancing dimensional transcendence
As our energies coalesced
There we were sitting in our tree.
But then the gemstones fell out of your eyes
& Like a stranger you gazed upon me
This undulating fortuitous futility
Beautifully brutal in its cruelty -
& Eating me alive as I grasp
toward mortal continuity
Begging for more of my former memories
Which I eschew in obscurity
to resurface and drown
All moral ambiguities
The relay I beg to make your systems restart
In unending and upending unity;
Erased upon awakening the slate avant-garde,
Fluently entombing this symbolical eulogy
-
Just clockwork these depths
From which I’ve risen and plunged
You’d shown me a meaning
I’ve never felt with anyone
With the utmost uplifting
& wholesome adour;
I long to embrace you
From this place I’ve sworn
Reality and dreams forever at war henceforth;
Your visage in the nether is my only warmth
Scorned at the form of us drifting apart
Continuing alone without a piece of my heart ~
I’ll pattern the sequences of events in my head
Imagining an alternate timeline which led
Our realignment that picks back up step instead
Once the power’s tripped and OS configs again
Do you think about me now and then
Will you think about me when the world ends?
Possibly grieve & mourn, pretend we’re still friends,
Both wished for forgiveness and made amends
In your arms I feel at home
But even in a crowd, I am alone
Reaping a graveyard of which I’ve sewn
Ever fonder so the absent heart grows
Apr 25, 2023
Apr 25, 2023 at 5:55 PM UTC
early this year
gentle as calm ocean waters
gently lapping along a weir
thumb and fore finger
of right hand would peal back,
(via diagonally flippant motion
asper calendar
representing progression of time)
gets flipped over to veer
in one direction (linear)
revealing the next month at lightspeed
vis a vis tempus fugit galloping tear
thy head immediately lost hirsute thickness,
i starkly share
male or female pattern baldness
extant along
Harris genealogical trunk line rare
yet divulging distress
about limp decreasing strands
sends shivers along spine,
gloomy feeling linkedin
with old fashioned meaning of queer
and perchance tis foolhardy
as reeding this Samson night issue must ap pear
tis unstoppable inching closer toward
as mortality gets near
youthful robustness fades
replaced by senescence mere
really ambling along tragicomic stream,
one evinces gargoyles mockingly leer
loosing sleep and kept raggedly awake
in conjunction dreams fraught
with frightful haunting monsters jeer
ring sound reverberating hair
splitting decibel jamming cranial gear
aye tell mice elf nothing to fear...
yet maximizing this plight with poem 'ere
Yukon also temporarily part
blond, brown, gold, et cetera locks mud dear.
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 11:36 PM UTC
"The trees have already begun to senesce"
my professor says, as she indicates
the oak whose leaves have been colored to dirt.
And a chord is struck in me,
for without her definition
I know what it is to senesce.
This is what it is to shed my leaves,
to watch their fingers wither and release
my autumn comes crisp
and crunches under rubber soles,
it feels like a barren womb.
All I give birth to is empty spaces
between fingers of dusk and
silhouettes of dark against light.
Crookedness is my legacy, and exposure is my blight.
And yet if I am like those dying branches
then I too must come awake again.
To senesce is to die, yet only for a time
spring is ahead, and she is waiting.
And I will follow,
follow that thought like deer prints in the snow,
like the sparrow's straining song,
like green blades lifting their arms,
like the smell of the earth swallowing the rain,
like there is a time when death will not call my name so sweetly
that I choose the dream over waking.
That I too will shed my ice
and become heavy with the weight
of fragrant flowers.
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 7:32 PM UTC