"slimmest" poems
*Phones, shapely, laughing beauties of yore,
once patiently rested in cradles , what elegance!
waiting for the prince to come, give a kiss
break the spell, remove the curse!
Gone are the days of pampered babies,
no cradles for phones anymore,
cell phones, the petite beauties we all care for now,
are born grown up.
The baby in the cradle now
sobs demanding the slimmest of cellphones,
once able to lay hands on it
the games continue till the eyes droop .
Cradles get vacant now too soon
the petite phone rings with out
any rest day and night.*
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
I gaze at my reflection
in a gilt picture frame.
She has the slimmest
sliver of a smile painted
on her expressionless face.
Her perfect eyes are so
intense, so empty.
Am I this predictable?
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC
Bittersweet lime-flavoured love
An apparition, a ghost, a face I think of
A mere shadow without definition or name
A hopefulness for the fulfilment of why I came.
Stretching into the ghetto of my mind
Is a body, a shape, a stencil of who may be mine
Reaching against the wicked hands of time
Yet never grasping; a drop of sugar, a cup of lime
Down on my knees with my hands clasped tight in prayer
And my will alone shakes the foundation, yet no one appears
Errant tendrils of loneliness grip at my rotting soul and heart
And the rejection, and the hurt, and the hope tears me apart.
I am now a sinister, cynical shell of who I used to be
And I plead, I beg the monotony to set me free
As I am suffocating on the slimmest sliver of a wish
My head turned upwards, lips waiting for a kiss.
Whether love, or like, or grudging intimacy
So be it, for I need it, and whatever else it may be
Thus, I will wait by the water's edge where the waves are violent
I'll wait at the volcano's peak, before it erupts, when all is quiet.
I'll hang to a fraying rope placed miles above solid ground
I'll stand at the edge of a tall building and dizzy myself looking down
Until someone, or something, arrives from somewhere to extend my time
Until the taste finally fades: a drop of the sweetest sugar, a cup of bitter lime.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 9:56 PM UTC
The odds of existence
of being precisely who you are
are slim
In fact, the odds are almost zero
but here you are
here you exist
so remember the next time
the odds are against you
that you've already beaten
the slimmest odds in the universe
before.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 10:12 AM UTC
2 addicts in conversation
I've always said the act of love itself from unrequited to world wind is a drug that claims more addicts than all narcotics combine. From the rush to the withdrawals. tears and anticipation to the eruption of having it taken from you. This love drug leaves you a fiend even if you've never participated in its consumption, you pursue, hunt, track and lose your mind for the slimmest of chance in its acquisitions.
Let's take a hit together now and forever. As friends, lovers, partners, and unify.
I feel you! I hear you! Where siblings of the same needle in its lust and retrieval.
-xin-
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 11:18 PM UTC
Nefarious;
A man said,
"we have been tried and weighed,
yet we are found wanting"
with free will we were ordained
men of yore and of new age shall seeks;
to deify, to rule, and to escape
A man also said,
"Each new morn, new widow howls,
new infants cry,
new insults slap the face of heaven"
but punishment comes not,
no, all the heavens does is but watch
I say,
"Through trials and test of darkness,
we shall revolve"
but the will need break free
a step to triumph and liberation;
'know friends and enemies apart'
Want and needs, desires and greed;
clouds human's soul
and so we choose what to believe,
never questioning the slimmest chance of untrue
and so we live,
like a horse tied to rein, led by the noose
©Pen of a True Gemini™
Monarch Muse™
23rd July, 2023
Jul 24, 2023
Jul 24, 2023 at 9:46 AM UTC
Welcome to the Adagio of my Soul,
Where that slow, slow, sad and sweet melody
Drags me ever deeper and deeper below,
As demons and monsters in panoply
Frolic, full of cheer, in the blazing abyss.
Salute, from the Allegro of my Mind,
That dreadfully cheerful, quickening time;
The one that comes when burnt bridges I find
All around me, as insanity's rhyme
Taunts me terribly, all my world's amiss.
Enter the Fortissimo of my Heart,
While it screams out loud, oh so silently,
To its love, desperately wanting part,
The slimmest, smallest of portions to be
Returned in kind, brush of the lips, a kiss.
End. Pianissimo of my Body.
Lost love, burnt bridges, demon and monster,
Surround me. Overwhelm me. Defeat me.
I lay alone. The music grows quieter.
The song of my life, comes now to but this...
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 11:42 PM UTC
There’s a constant, quiet fump fump fump coming from the space where my muscles fold into my flesh. I feel it along my arms and chest, underneath my cheeks. The pattering wraps around my thighs and crawls across my stomach. It’s desynchronized; it’s chaotic. It makes my skin feel as though it’s stretched just too tightly across my insides. And the fump fump fump speeds up. My skin is like tissue paper, and as the rhythm reaches a frenzied pitch, it begins to tear from within. Out of my forearm appears the slimmest, black appendage. It slips through like a straw through the lid of a cup. I lift the hem of my shirt and a fissure alongside my navel reveals a single wing beating frantically. Panic twists like ivy towards my throat as more splits open in my skin and the existing tears grow wider, but more than that - I am alive. I take one last great gasp of air, reveling in that feeling of life - that electricity that sparks its way through every cell in my body – and my skin loses the last of its papery integrity and ten thousand butterflies hurl themselves out into the world. Each wing is unfurled completely and the fump fump fump is now a chorus of twenty thousand delicate membranes embracing freedom. The insects push at their new boundaries and fly, scattered, to the long lost corners of the universe. And as the last spark flutters away from the epicenter, that place where I once had a body finally finds the silence. The stillness. And where I once had eyes, I close them. When they open once more, I am bathed in the sun. I am stretched across a leaf. I am fanning my wings.
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 11:02 PM UTC
2 addicts in conversation
I've always said the act of love itself from unrequited to world wind is a drug that claims more addicts than all narcotics combine. From the rush to the withdrawals. tears and anticipation to the eruption of having it taken from you. This love drug leaves you a fiend even if you've never participated in its consumption, you pursue, hunt, track and lose your mind for the slimmest of chance in its acquisitions.
Let's take a hit together now and forever. As friends, lovers, partners, and unify.
I feel you! I hear you! Where siblings of the same needle in its lust and retrieval.
-xin-
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 2:58 PM UTC
Jim died last night, slipped away like the slimmest embers of light that, from time to time, would reach their arms through the clouds to show themselves. I wonder where he is glowing, if he kindled his spirit to the stars, the gray moon, the forever burning sun.
I stared into his empty room last night, the air a silent breath synced with mine, and it felt so unexpected, it felt wrong and cruel and hostile. I didn’t get to say goodbye.
When I walked home the next morning, I felt like my lips had meant to mutter some form of plea into that void space that were all cradled together by a wrinkled blanket we had not yet washed.
I left the newspaper out for him.
8 a.m shrieking birds and gravel crunching underneath my worn shoes. The morning tan wasted down to the fragmented hairs of fog that settled their bodies over the ******* of earth and I kept my eyes shut to refuse to let loose something I felt I had no control over.
At 9:30, I crawled into bed, thinking of where the sun was at his placing now, thinking of the hiding stars, the seemed to be gone, moon, and I prayed that Jim had made it to the other side.
Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 12:06 AM UTC
Do you like breaking hearts?
Do you like watching me suffer?
It's been like this from the start.
Yet you always look for another.
My skin feels like it's set aflame.
And the pain won't go away.
My chest heavy with weight.
And my heart continuously aches.
But it's okay.
It's okay.
I'm fine.
I'll still stay with you.
I'll still talk with you.
I'll still love you.
Because each moment beside you just lessens this agony.
But leaves me yearning for more.
This is my personal hell.
My perpetual torment.
That I allow myself here willingly.
For the slimmest chance.
The slightest hope.
One time.
One day.
This will be worth it.
However, keep in mind.
Anything worth obtaining isn't easy to get.
So don't count me out on this yet.
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 11:30 AM UTC
For the slimmest second,
encased in a thunder's
smack
against the rough skyline.
I could breathe.
That's the truth.
Honest-to-god,
hand-on-the-bible
Truth.
Rain.
Rain shimmering in silk strands
from the roof.
All that water
somehow keeping us insulated.
"You can't go home in this," I said.
You nodded.
A car's rearview lights
slid your face into focus.
Lit by a tinned kind of moonlight.
A shake-before-pouring
brand of brilliance.
You looked out the window.
"Mad ******* you said.
But your eyes said
maybe you could follow him
onto the road.
"Yeah, one hell of a storm."
Pursed lips.
A reluctant, just formed
twitch of a smile.
You asked if I didn't mind sharing the bed.
God, I wish that I could debate my answer for more
than a millionth of a second.
And when I woke up,
you, on the other side of the bed
fingers warm,
loose,
curled around my thumb.
That was it.
That one tiny point of contact,
it lit up the sky.
And I swear,
I could breathe.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 4:48 PM UTC
You may be alive by the slimmest of chances
But you'll always die by the highest
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 10:50 AM UTC
the madness of the couple
is a broken
showerhead.
the slimmest volume
of collected work
is a drop of water
lands, a drop of water
lands, no memory
is erased.
in time, I’ll prominently cover
the same topic.
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
I love to look good, auspicious they say
Maybe it’s to hide how ugly it is I am inside
Pretty devious indeed, so I always have one
Or more broads by my side, never suspicious
I am lustful, guess that is why I find
My prey to be delicious
Barely dressed yet heavily
Musked by all sorts of fragrance
Unaware of the malicious thoughts
That run rampant in my head
They say I have a twitch
So I had to get it fixed
But the charming ones love them a good story
And the bold ones hate Mr. Perfect
So "hear lies" my great defect
My little itsy bitty secret
I do not judge, yet still am a hypocrite
So criticize if you must
I shan’t protest, but I will guarantee
None will detest for I am your lover
And you hate how much you know me
So you ignore the parts you dislike
And cling to the façade I propose
You want me to use you and discard you
So a story you can share
I want to use you to discard me
Lose myself in the euphoria
Hoping the slimmest chance
That I find my first love and redemption
If not then the cycle repeats
And I take you over and over
With or without your permission
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 5:16 PM UTC
There came a monster great and large
that charged the city gate.
With a rumble and a tumble
the people's courage did deflate.
No knights dared stand and fight
or else death would quickly come.
Til' a lone boy from town,
stood up for justice done.
He was small and unimpressive
with frail bones and skinny frame.
But in his heart of hearts there burned a courageous heroes flame.
He had no chance of winning.
Not the slimmest in the least.
But win or lose he knew that day he had to face that beast.
It was not about the fame for him
neither the fortune vast.
He simply knew he would be the first
and quite possibly the last.
So with a simple stick in tow
he charged straight forward to his death.
Call this ignorance or stupidity,
I call it rising to the test.
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 1:04 AM UTC
Tell me what is it you know of the darkness. Have you ever felt the electric shock run up your spine and freeze your muscles as you watch the end of your life unfold before you
Tell me have you prayed to every god in hopes that one might abolish your shame. Sitting on your knees until the blood pools onto the floor beneath you and dries becoming sticky.
Tell me how far have you gone to numb that pain. Have you picked fights with terrible odds and reveled in the drunken mess you've created.
Tell me have you ever escaped on the slimmest chance and tasted how thin the air becomes when you realize just how fragile it all can be.
Tell me do you live for that moment? I do.
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 6:16 PM UTC
peering into his eyes I can sense a familiar spirit
this man also lives for the thrill of testing his limits
of pushing himself just to the edge of life
leaning over to get a look at the other side
and at the last possible moment
escaping on the slimmest of chances
I wonder if this is the man to defeat me
I hope he's prepared to go all the way
that's the only way you leave a fight like this
when your opponents heart stops beating
An electric shock runs down my spine
it spreads and stuns my muscles
the air is so incredibly thin now
This is the moment I live for
when you overcome all fear
let go of the illusion of control
and ride that powerful wave into ultimate victory
Sep 12, 2016
Sep 12, 2016 at 11:52 PM UTC
Once upon a thinner time
Many pounds ago,
My neck was long and, oh, so slim...
Wherever did it go?
I had a neck, I know I did,
The slimmest one around,
But when I search the mirror now
It’s no where to be found.
I can’t say when it happened.
Time passes by so fast.
The things we take for granted are
The things that never last.
I know what prompted its demise...
‘Twas one of many sins.
I can’t say no to Twinkies
Now it’s buried ‘neath my chins.
Perhaps we’ll meet again one day,
But it matters not, you see,
For I know that with or without my neck,
I’m still the same old me.
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 11:51 AM UTC