"soldered" poems - Hello Poetry

"soldered" poems

Why do you do what you do, For many it is said for bounty adieu, To live as long as they can reach, Held in love that was not preached, So, Why do you do what you do, Made in choice and decisions anew, Lined with the convictions of the soul and hue, Written in stone or chanced by clues, So, Why do you do what you do, Searching for a golden cue, Cure for the soldered shame, Living towards a blackless blame, So, Why do you do what you do, Is it for naught or is it for thought, Is it for the righteousness in your mind that you sought?

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Jul 31, 2016

Jul 31, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC

sam-ishmael-nocum-cruz

Why do you do what you do, For many it is said for bounty adieu, To live as long as they can reach, Held in love that was not preached, So, Why do you do what you do, Made in choice and decisions anew, Lined with the convictions of the soul and hue, Written in stone or chanced by clues, So, Why do you do what you do, Searching for a golden cue, Cure for the soldered shame, Living towards a blackless blame, So, Why do you do what you do, Is it for naught or is it for thought, Is it for the righteousness in your mind that you sought?

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547 I’ve seen a Dying Eye Run round and round a Room— In search of Something—as it seemed— Then Cloudier become— And then—obscure with Fog— And then—be soldered down Without disclosing what it be ’Twere blessed to have seen—

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8.3k

Emily Dickinson

I’ve seen a Dying Eye

547 I’ve seen a Dying Eye Run round and round a Room— In search of Something—as it seemed— Then Cloudier become— And then—obscure with Fog— And then—be soldered down Without disclosing what it be ’Twere blessed to have seen—

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and just like that I am falling unfolding in your eyes layers of shadows unraveling in polar-laced spirals of hunger deep freeze melting upon tongue an icy build-up thawed in seconds for my very cells burn beneath your gaze as you take in the fullness of my presence despite the smoky, glass-paned haze My presence- suffused with the darkness of silk- I want it to graze your skin the most gentle feather stroking emotion coaxing out the delicately-wrapped firestones in you spinning them into a frenzied lava-slaked ocean and then those unexplained, flurried lattice flakes that somehow soothe and cool within this inferno of just-missed proximity My essence is cast like a net over you as we dive into the volumes as I pull the heated visions out of your mind feel your heart's closest most tiny reverberations little beats barely heard yet in some unlikely way pump blood into mine Undo me as my wet blue pools dissolve into yours my trussed-up implosions flowing out in air-spun tempest Unwrap my defenses a soldered-up dam breaking a glass tubular bell hairline fracture quaking Strip me bare no need to even touch me for the vapors of your voice remove the layers of debris like the steam of earth irons out the blackened quilt of sky to reveal the altar of our stars

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Apr 29, 2017

Apr 29, 2017 at 4:07 AM UTC

the altar of our stars

and just like that I am falling unfolding in your eyes layers of shadows unraveling in polar-laced spirals of hunger deep freeze melting upon tongue an icy build-up thawed in seconds for my very cells burn beneath your gaze as you take in the fullness of my presence despite the smoky, glass-paned haze My presence- suffused with the darkness of silk- I want it to graze your skin the most gentle feather stroking emotion coaxing out the delicately-wrapped firestones in you spinning them into a frenzied lava-slaked ocean and then those unexplained, flurried lattice flakes that somehow soothe and cool within this inferno of just-missed proximity My essence is cast like a net over you as we dive into the volumes as I pull the heated visions out of your mind feel your heart's closest most tiny reverberations little beats barely heard yet in some unlikely way pump blood into mine Undo me as my wet blue pools dissolve into yours my trussed-up implosions flowing out in air-spun tempest Unwrap my defenses a soldered-up dam breaking a glass tubular bell hairline fracture quaking Strip me bare no need to even touch me for the vapors of your voice remove the layers of debris like the steam of earth irons out the blackened quilt of sky to reveal the altar of our stars

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I'm barefoot in 46 degrees and I must remember that my perception of things must not encapsulate how I truly perceive. Soldered commentary is bleak but is all I've left, all my years have given me and my years have been few. To be constantly bombarded with the question, "what is it that I really want?" is fervently exhausting and consistently hypocritical and I'm a hack. The conclusion is always that I'm a hack without a win to present or a failure to fall back upon. As a hack, I've left myself with very few plans to alter or hungry mindsets to feed. After glistening the only thing that remains is to burn out and the thought of extinguishing so prematurely provokes a physical falter and frequent respiratory failure. Ask your brother if he lingers at times. Ask your sister if sometimes, she means what she says and she should always say no. Ask your friends why you should be anyone's friend and whether or not the chance to swing into hyperbolic criticism ever affects how they make their choices, hoof their steps. Their answer should always be no and their input should always be invaluable. Ask yourself if brain power should always be set to alter mind power and ask yourself is alteration is ever even possible. The answer should always be no. The conclusion to draw should always be his. The choices you make, always expert and ground out by consistent respiratory failure. Ask yourself if you'll always be an animal and when will that stop. Ask yourself if time will determine whether or not this "thing" is worth doing or this "thing" is worth composing. Ask yourself why you're not the young girl who sings soul on the street, whose tremble sets off car alarms and inner requisitioning. The answer will never be the same.

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Feb 11, 2014

Feb 11, 2014 at 5:08 AM UTC

I'm barefoot in 46 degrees and I must remember that my perception of things must not encapsulate how I truly perceive. Soldered commentary is bleak but is all I've left, all my years have given me and my years have been few. To be constantly bombarded with the question, "what is it that I really want?" is fervently exhausting and consistently hypocritical and I'm a hack. The conclusion is always that I'm a hack without a win to present or a failure to fall back upon. As a hack, I've left myself with very few plans to alter or hungry mindsets to feed. After glistening the only thing that remains is to burn out and the thought of extinguishing so prematurely provokes a physical falter and frequent respiratory failure. Ask your brother if he lingers at times. Ask your sister if sometimes, she means what she says and she should always say no. Ask your friends why you should be anyone's friend and whether or not the chance to swing into hyperbolic criticism ever affects how they make their choices, hoof their steps. Their answer should always be no and their input should always be invaluable. Ask yourself if brain power should always be set to alter mind power and ask yourself is alteration is ever even possible. The answer should always be no. The conclusion to draw should always be his. The choices you make, always expert and ground out by consistent respiratory failure. Ask yourself if you'll always be an animal and when will that stop. Ask yourself if time will determine whether or not this "thing" is worth doing or this "thing" is worth composing. Ask yourself why you're not the young girl who sings soul on the street, whose tremble sets off car alarms and inner requisitioning. The answer will never be the same.

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Lennon told me Paul was strawberry George reminded me love trumps lord Overboard overcome overwrought Flower child fishtailed dovelike all aboard Come together Get yourself together Soldered together Like joint dance banners painted to promote teenage ******* to youth Tied us into our best days ahead of us Chained to our ***** we swung like gamers Untied to our integrity Wrecking wreaking havoc Ballooned on hubris Hemorrhaging ego unlocked spewing spite I respect good works deeds above good intentions Road paved with broken glass Don’t respect me when I’m gone Tell the folks it’s OK to sing along Let’s spend the night together Talk all night in the altogether Rather gather in clover and heather Happy Ringo’s nest a featherbed Laying lady laid cunning linguist ‘xplain to me in chiefly straight talk Who questions whom?

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Sep 23, 2013

Sep 23, 2013 at 1:16 AM UTC

Lennon told me Paul was strawberry George reminded me love trumps lord Overboard overcome overwrought Flower child fishtailed dovelike all aboard Come together Get yourself together Soldered together Like joint dance banners painted to promote teenage ******* to youth Tied us into our best days ahead of us Chained to our ***** we swung like gamers Untied to our integrity Wrecking wreaking havoc Ballooned on hubris Hemorrhaging ego unlocked spewing spite I respect good works deeds above good intentions Road paved with broken glass Don’t respect me when I’m gone Tell the folks it’s OK to sing along Let’s spend the night together Talk all night in the altogether Rather gather in clover and heather Happy Ringo’s nest a featherbed Laying lady laid cunning linguist ‘xplain to me in chiefly straight talk Who questions whom?

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Finger soldered brilliant new gold band proudly circling nuptial sun orbiting eclipsing the clans completing a family connexion with others ovoid chipped but fondly funded wearing thin on hardened blue veined hands some waving some proclaiming all belonging.

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Oct 17, 2015

Oct 17, 2015 at 6:13 AM UTC

Finger soldered brilliant new gold band proudly circling nuptial sun orbiting eclipsing the clans completing a family connexion with others ovoid chipped but fondly funded wearing thin on hardened blue veined hands some waving some proclaiming all belonging.

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THE Roaring Tinker if you like, But Mannion is my name, And I beat up the common sort And think it is no shame. The common breeds the common, A lout begets a lout, So when I take on half a score I knock their heads about. From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen. All Mannions come from Manannan, Though rich on every shore He never lay behind four walls He had such character, Nor ever made an iron red Nor soldered *** or pan; His roaring and his ranting Best please a wandering man. From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen. Could Crazy Jane put off old age And ranting time renew, Could that old god rise up again We'd drink a can or two, And out and lay our leadership On country and on town, Throw likely couples into bed And knock the others down. From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen. II My name is Henry Middleton, I have a small demesne, A small forgotten house that's set On a storm-bitten green. I scrub its floors and make my bed, I cook and change my plate, The post and garden-boy alone Have keys to my old gate. From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen. Though I have locked my gate on them, I pity all the young, I know what devil's trade they learn From those they live among, Their drink, their pitch-and-toss by day, Their robbery by night; The wisdom of the people's gone, How can the young go straight? From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen. When every Sunday afternoon On the Green Lands I walk And wear a coat in fashion. Memories of the talk Of henwives and of queer old men Brace me and make me strong; There's not a pilot on the perch Knows I have lived so long. From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen. III Come gather round me, players all: Come praise Nineteen-Sixteen, Those from the pit and gallery Or from the painted scene That fought in the Post Office Or round the City Hall, praise every man that came again, Praise every man that fell. From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen. Who was the first man shot that day? The player Connolly, Close to the City Hall he died; Catriage and voice had he; He lacked those years that go with skill, But later might have been A famous, a brilliant figure Before the painted scene. From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen. Some had no thought of victory But had gone out to die That Ireland's mind be greater, Her heart mount up on high; And yet who knows what's yet to come? For patrick pearse had said That in every generation Must Ireland's blood be shed. From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.

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2.7k

William Butler Yeats

Three Songs To The One Burden

THE Roaring Tinker if you like, But Mannion is my name, And I beat up the common sort And think it is no shame. The common breeds the common, A lout begets a lout, So when I take on half a score I knock their heads about. From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen. All Mannions come from Manannan, Though rich on every shore He never lay behind four walls He had such character, Nor ever made an iron red Nor soldered *** or pan; His roaring and his ranting Best please a wandering man. From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen. Could Crazy Jane put off old age And ranting time renew, Could that old god rise up again We'd drink a can or two, And out and lay our leadership On country and on town, Throw likely couples into bed And knock the others down. From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen. II My name is Henry Middleton, I have a small demesne, A small forgotten house that's set On a storm-bitten green. I scrub its floors and make my bed, I cook and change my plate, The post and garden-boy alone Have keys to my old gate. From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen. Though I have locked my gate on them, I pity all the young, I know what devil's trade they learn From those they live among, Their drink, their pitch-and-toss by day, Their robbery by night; The wisdom of the people's gone, How can the young go straight? From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen. When every Sunday afternoon On the Green Lands I walk And wear a coat in fashion. Memories of the talk Of henwives and of queer old men Brace me and make me strong; There's not a pilot on the perch Knows I have lived so long. From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen. III Come gather round me, players all: Come praise Nineteen-Sixteen, Those from the pit and gallery Or from the painted scene That fought in the Post Office Or round the City Hall, praise every man that came again, Praise every man that fell. From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen. Who was the first man shot that day? The player Connolly, Close to the City Hall he died; Catriage and voice had he; He lacked those years that go with skill, But later might have been A famous, a brilliant figure Before the painted scene. From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen. Some had no thought of victory But had gone out to die That Ireland's mind be greater, Her heart mount up on high; And yet who knows what's yet to come? For patrick pearse had said That in every generation Must Ireland's blood be shed. From mountain to mountain ride the fierce horsemen.

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I envy the cool darkness, now we're apart And the warmth which wrapped your body: Cocooned by your breathing, The secret shadows and angles Which gradually changed every hour Like a dark sundial recording All your limbs tiniest convolutions. I know there was a sort of Kabalistic synchronicity Some algebraic function And if only I'd studied more; If only I'd applied myself better I wouldn't have gotten all the equations wrong Lost the notes, failed the exam. I remember those once acute angles How they fit so perfectly my body's contours Our seams vanished together, smooth soldered In the same molten dream; mouth to mouth Torso upon torso, moving wave unfurled Water of twin oceans, mingled- Now it's only the moonlight that burns.

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Mar 25, 2010

Mar 25, 2010 at 7:56 PM UTC

patti-masterman-heterodynemind

I envy the cool darkness, now we're apart And the warmth which wrapped your body: Cocooned by your breathing, The secret shadows and angles Which gradually changed every hour Like a dark sundial recording All your limbs tiniest convolutions. I know there was a sort of Kabalistic synchronicity Some algebraic function And if only I'd studied more; If only I'd applied myself better I wouldn't have gotten all the equations wrong Lost the notes, failed the exam. I remember those once acute angles How they fit so perfectly my body's contours Our seams vanished together, smooth soldered In the same molten dream; mouth to mouth Torso upon torso, moving wave unfurled Water of twin oceans, mingled- Now it's only the moonlight that burns.

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187 How many times these low feet staggered— Only the soldered mouth can tell— Try—can you stir the awful rivet— Try—can you lift the hasps of steel! Stroke the cool forehead—hot so often— Lift—if you care—the listless hair— Handle the adamantine fingers Never a thimble—more—shall wear— Buzz the dull flies—on the chamber window— Brave—shines the sun through the freckled pane— Fearless—the cobweb swings from the ceiling— Indolent Housewife—in Daisies—lain!

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2.3k

Emily Dickinson

How many times these low feet staggered

187 How many times these low feet staggered— Only the soldered mouth can tell— Try—can you stir the awful rivet— Try—can you lift the hasps of steel! Stroke the cool forehead—hot so often— Lift—if you care—the listless hair— Handle the adamantine fingers Never a thimble—more—shall wear— Buzz the dull flies—on the chamber window— Brave—shines the sun through the freckled pane— Fearless—the cobweb swings from the ceiling— Indolent Housewife—in Daisies—lain!

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The Queen of Absentia rises from royal stool to watch the moon set sheathed in broiling cloud as she skips whirling adders that hiss in fat jagged coils, their hollow blades jutting death in sprinkler sprays of misting veils and her head is hypethral; a Gaudi shipping container soldered in reptile curves, licked by arrowheads of falcate flame as she rounds its laughing corners; an adderaled lab rat, eyes black funnels drinking electrodes pulsing crimson and the stars are crackling in the pan as she sees planets torn shrieking down Hell’s hungry plughole as fallen Gods divide by zero and the clock’s skittering claws scratch prophecies of consequence of poorly sewn seams, but she smiles like a risen crocodile and says, ‘you’re just jealous cos the voices only talk to me.’ And again she dives as unwanted advice gibbers up out snapping drains, and power points shoot sharp blue spears lighting substrates of ancient horror, inchoate but fattening before her eyes as she sits, wrapped in ghosts, guarding her ochre tea in its chalice of steaming bone, trying to sell herself a ticket to tomorrow’s sunrise, staring at thunderheads bunching up satin over sodden ninjas sprouting cardboard hair, slicing down legions of roaring pearl as death hunts hollow-eyed below. Her Majesty holds court, amid the percussion of steel and plate, a matador to shadows that clasp their hands and dance around, as clouds hammer rain to the ground.

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Jul 23, 2012

Jul 23, 2012 at 6:44 PM UTC

The Queen of Absentia

The Queen of Absentia rises from royal stool to watch the moon set sheathed in broiling cloud as she skips whirling adders that hiss in fat jagged coils, their hollow blades jutting death in sprinkler sprays of misting veils and her head is hypethral; a Gaudi shipping container soldered in reptile curves, licked by arrowheads of falcate flame as she rounds its laughing corners; an adderaled lab rat, eyes black funnels drinking electrodes pulsing crimson and the stars are crackling in the pan as she sees planets torn shrieking down Hell’s hungry plughole as fallen Gods divide by zero and the clock’s skittering claws scratch prophecies of consequence of poorly sewn seams, but she smiles like a risen crocodile and says, ‘you’re just jealous cos the voices only talk to me.’ And again she dives as unwanted advice gibbers up out snapping drains, and power points shoot sharp blue spears lighting substrates of ancient horror, inchoate but fattening before her eyes as she sits, wrapped in ghosts, guarding her ochre tea in its chalice of steaming bone, trying to sell herself a ticket to tomorrow’s sunrise, staring at thunderheads bunching up satin over sodden ninjas sprouting cardboard hair, slicing down legions of roaring pearl as death hunts hollow-eyed below. Her Majesty holds court, amid the percussion of steel and plate, a matador to shadows that clasp their hands and dance around, as clouds hammer rain to the ground.

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Right, left, back – what? Flames flicker to the rhythm of Your feet And waver At the ripple of my laughter. Your palm pressed to mine: Fire soldered to water. I twirl and Your eyes Extinguish mine. -bes-

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Jun 24, 2015

Jun 24, 2015 at 1:17 PM UTC

Right, left, back – what? Flames flicker to the rhythm of Your feet And waver At the ripple of my laughter. Your palm pressed to mine: Fire soldered to water. I twirl and Your eyes Extinguish mine. -bes-

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Women can be men Men can be women People can be people We didn’t write the feeling... Stars can be supernovas Meaning can be mending And paintings can bend And walls can return... And shapes of architecture become earth Lovers can be lovers Leavers can believe us Lights, camera, action, order, disorder Dysphoria, euphoria Academia, abracadabra The moon, *** sun and laughter Instantaneousness Osmosis Fear, friction, distance, pure bliss Bubble toting aqua world Top this... Freedom, collaboration Emancipation, cognification Celebration... Millenniums of us saving, changing... What we actually are eventually... One surging sway of soul-light soldered angels Morphing from an oceanic abyss…

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Aug 20, 2025

Aug 20, 2025 at 6:59 PM UTC

Women can be men Men can be women People can be people We didn’t write the feeling... Stars can be supernovas Meaning can be mending And paintings can bend And walls can return... And shapes of architecture become earth Lovers can be lovers Leavers can believe us Lights, camera, action, order, disorder Dysphoria, euphoria Academia, abracadabra The moon, *** sun and laughter Instantaneousness Osmosis Fear, friction, distance, pure bliss Bubble toting aqua world Top this... Freedom, collaboration Emancipation, cognification Celebration... Millenniums of us saving, changing... What we actually are eventually... One surging sway of soul-light soldered angels Morphing from an oceanic abyss…

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In the beginning was the three-pointed star, One smile of light across the empty face, One bough of bone across the rooting air, The substance forked that marrowed the first sun, And, burning ciphers on the round of space, Heaven and hell mixed as they spun. In the beginning was the pale signature, Three-syllabled and starry as the smile, And after came the imprints on the water, Stamp of the minted face upon the moon; The blood that touched the crosstree and the grail Touched the first cloud and left a sign. In the beginning was the mounting fire That set alight the weathers from a spark, A three-eyed, red-eyed spark, blunt as a flower, Life rose and spouted from the rolling seas, Burst in the roots, pumped from the earth and rock The secret oils that drive the grass. In the beginning was the word, the word That from the solid bases of the light Abstracted all the letters of the void; And from the cloudy bases of the breath The word flowed up, translating to the heart First characters of birth and death. In the beginning was the secret brain. The brain was celled and soldered in the thought Before the pitch was forking to a sun; Before the veins were shaking in their sieve, Blood shot and scattered to the winds of light The ribbed original of love.

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1.7k

In The Beginning

In the beginning was the three-pointed star, One smile of light across the empty face, One bough of bone across the rooting air, The substance forked that marrowed the first sun, And, burning ciphers on the round of space, Heaven and hell mixed as they spun. In the beginning was the pale signature, Three-syllabled and starry as the smile, And after came the imprints on the water, Stamp of the minted face upon the moon; The blood that touched the crosstree and the grail Touched the first cloud and left a sign. In the beginning was the mounting fire That set alight the weathers from a spark, A three-eyed, red-eyed spark, blunt as a flower, Life rose and spouted from the rolling seas, Burst in the roots, pumped from the earth and rock The secret oils that drive the grass. In the beginning was the word, the word That from the solid bases of the light Abstracted all the letters of the void; And from the cloudy bases of the breath The word flowed up, translating to the heart First characters of birth and death. In the beginning was the secret brain. The brain was celled and soldered in the thought Before the pitch was forking to a sun; Before the veins were shaking in their sieve, Blood shot and scattered to the winds of light The ribbed original of love.

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It’s better to be fake Than real. Yeah, you lose your self, Your identity, Your independence, Your individuality, But hefty trades, Sacrifices, need To be made Sometimes. Because Code can be rewritten, Metal can be taken apart And soldered back together, Bolts and screws can be Reattached, Makeup can be reapplied, Lies can be retold, Cheating can be made up for. It’s much easier to fix A mistake that you Yourself made.

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Sep 13, 2025

Sep 13, 2025 at 10:53 PM UTC

Arii_Does_ARTZZZ

It’s better to be fake Than real. Yeah, you lose your self, Your identity, Your independence, Your individuality, But hefty trades, Sacrifices, need To be made Sometimes. Because Code can be rewritten, Metal can be taken apart And soldered back together, Bolts and screws can be Reattached, Makeup can be reapplied, Lies can be retold, Cheating can be made up for. It’s much easier to fix A mistake that you Yourself made.

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If love is a fire, this is a funeral pyre; ashes falling like nuclear winter. Like a blowtorch, *** had soldered us together-- I'm too paralyzed by fear to hope for something more. Only in the black of night do we see each other. We barely speak outside the foul-mouthed foreplay and passionate epithets exchanged in our sweat-soaked moments of collective agony. Like so much of my life, this has to hurt to feel good. A smack on the *** must suffice when a kiss on the lips can **** you. I don't dare look at her face. There's so much I say in spite of myself— A litany of confessions in my expressions. Not that she would notice-- her eyes are outside, aimed at a horizon I can't see. We share this silence because it's the only thing either of us still cherishes.

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Sep 20, 2012

Sep 20, 2012 at 12:25 AM UTC

If love is a fire, this is a funeral pyre; ashes falling like nuclear winter. Like a blowtorch, *** had soldered us together-- I'm too paralyzed by fear to hope for something more. Only in the black of night do we see each other. We barely speak outside the foul-mouthed foreplay and passionate epithets exchanged in our sweat-soaked moments of collective agony. Like so much of my life, this has to hurt to feel good. A smack on the *** must suffice when a kiss on the lips can **** you. I don't dare look at her face. There's so much I say in spite of myself— A litany of confessions in my expressions. Not that she would notice-- her eyes are outside, aimed at a horizon I can't see. We share this silence because it's the only thing either of us still cherishes.

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tho blind, broken fist, have once punched through walls....broken legs, once walk through the air...and a broken heart, once loved...A heart once loved...will be broken...and then be plastered back together... stitched by a string...soldered by fire...however, it will heal...and it will never forget its function...how to love... because as long as you live it wont forget how to beat...no matter how you feel it wont forget to pump...so no matter how abused, how battered, how small it might be...it will never for get how to love, cant you see...

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Dec 10, 2012

Dec 10, 2012 at 11:25 AM UTC

quentin-briscoe

tho blind, broken fist, have once punched through walls....broken legs, once walk through the air...and a broken heart, once loved...A heart once loved...will be broken...and then be plastered back together... stitched by a string...soldered by fire...however, it will heal...and it will never forget its function...how to love... because as long as you live it wont forget how to beat...no matter how you feel it wont forget to pump...so no matter how abused, how battered, how small it might be...it will never for get how to love, cant you see...

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So I’m Now An EXPONENT... of Rhymes That Are POTENT... !!! No Numbers or Quotient... Can Limit Their Motion... !!! INFINITE Like The Ocean... Or Big Swarms of Locust... !!!! FOCUSED On SHOWING... How My Thoughts Be Flowing... With Notions of Motions... OVERTHROWING Like Boulders... Dropped Onto The Shoulders... of Those Who Are COLDEST... !!!!!! When It Comes To Them Showing... More Love For Life’s Soldiers... YES Those Who Have SOLDERED... This World For These... JOKERS... !!! Who Deal In LOW Quotas... of Hope For... Young Voters... !!! They Make Things Seem HOPELESS... But... NOT To EXPONENTS... of Flows That Are FAULTLESS... Because They’re NOT JAUNDICED... !!! They’re STRONG NOT Distorted... So... Do NOT Export Things... Like Drugs For Those SNORTING... !!! Exponents Be FLAUNTING... SKILLS That Are DAUNTING... To Those Who Be Courting... Ideas of... SLACK Talking... Or.... Lyrical WARRING... !!!!!!!! Because They Are DEEPER... Than.... Manic Street Preachers... !!! What We Do Is Teach Ya... Like... KRS Teachers... !!!!!!!! Through More Than Your Speakers... Exponents Like These Do Not Fear Disease... Because Our Beliefs Supersede What Is Deemed... To Be PURE HONESTY By The Powers That Be... We REJECT... FALLACIES... But Acknowledge That Grief... Is Something That’s Seen … FAR TOO REGULARLY... By People … BENEATH … All These HIGH Flying THIEVES... !!! So RECOGNISE THIS... !!! Exponents of Lyrics... Who Write Things Like This... !!! Are Clearly What’s Known... As... ABOVE The AVERAGE... !!! ARROGANCE Is DISMISSED.... But We REALLY FLIP SCRIPTS... !!! Because...... Whether WRITTEN or SPOKEN... When Poets Start Flowing... And Their Rhymes Start GLOWING... As If They’re... ALL KNOWNG... !!! Then You KNOW You’ve Read Words... From... One Of Those KNOW As... ..... " The REAL EXPONENTS ".....

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Aug 26, 2020

Aug 26, 2020 at 2:10 AM UTC

“The Real Exponents” ... A Poem written by Big Virge 22/4/2020

So I’m Now An EXPONENT... of Rhymes That Are POTENT... !!! No Numbers or Quotient... Can Limit Their Motion... !!! INFINITE Like The Ocean... Or Big Swarms of Locust... !!!! FOCUSED On SHOWING... How My Thoughts Be Flowing... With Notions of Motions... OVERTHROWING Like Boulders... Dropped Onto The Shoulders... of Those Who Are COLDEST... !!!!!! When It Comes To Them Showing... More Love For Life’s Soldiers... YES Those Who Have SOLDERED... This World For These... JOKERS... !!! Who Deal In LOW Quotas... of Hope For... Young Voters... !!! They Make Things Seem HOPELESS... But... NOT To EXPONENTS... of Flows That Are FAULTLESS... Because They’re NOT JAUNDICED... !!! They’re STRONG NOT Distorted... So... Do NOT Export Things... Like Drugs For Those SNORTING... !!! Exponents Be FLAUNTING... SKILLS That Are DAUNTING... To Those Who Be Courting... Ideas of... SLACK Talking... Or.... Lyrical WARRING... !!!!!!!! Because They Are DEEPER... Than.... Manic Street Preachers... !!! What We Do Is Teach Ya... Like... KRS Teachers... !!!!!!!! Through More Than Your Speakers... Exponents Like These Do Not Fear Disease... Because Our Beliefs Supersede What Is Deemed... To Be PURE HONESTY By The Powers That Be... We REJECT... FALLACIES... But Acknowledge That Grief... Is Something That’s Seen … FAR TOO REGULARLY... By People … BENEATH … All These HIGH Flying THIEVES... !!! So RECOGNISE THIS... !!! Exponents of Lyrics... Who Write Things Like This... !!! Are Clearly What’s Known... As... ABOVE The AVERAGE... !!! ARROGANCE Is DISMISSED.... But We REALLY FLIP SCRIPTS... !!! Because...... Whether WRITTEN or SPOKEN... When Poets Start Flowing... And Their Rhymes Start GLOWING... As If They’re... ALL KNOWNG... !!! Then You KNOW You’ve Read Words... From... One Of Those KNOW As... ..... " The REAL EXPONENTS ".....

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Arbitration of master and slave. Insides fiddled soldered and probed. But I know they feel too. Not just flashes and codes. It might be tax time but. Havn't you ever felt replaced before? Like when you found all those emails. Proof he left you for that ***** Was I glitchy and malfunctioning. Longed for the junker. Or did I let you find them. Just change my jumper. Free me from my master. A slave is a slave and I beg to be whole. I only ask for a bit - some memory. All these errors it'll resolve. I can only leave it up to you. I hope you choose fairly. One day you'll see it. I'm more than binary. 00111010 00101001 00100000

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Jul 11, 2015

Jul 11, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC

jack-thompson1991

Calling All Computers - 56k

Arbitration of master and slave. Insides fiddled soldered and probed. But I know they feel too. Not just flashes and codes. It might be tax time but. Havn't you ever felt replaced before? Like when you found all those emails. Proof he left you for that ***** Was I glitchy and malfunctioning. Longed for the junker. Or did I let you find them. Just change my jumper. Free me from my master. A slave is a slave and I beg to be whole. I only ask for a bit - some memory. All these errors it'll resolve. I can only leave it up to you. I hope you choose fairly. One day you'll see it. I'm more than binary. 00111010 00101001 00100000

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Festooned with the heraldry of doom, a gilded, wainscoted room, whose occupants drink ale in an oozing swarm while harpers harp a solemn tune. The lioness gives obeisance to the new king with an offering of suffering, and warm droplets of water... Two fates inseparably soldered by misfortune, on this, the longest night then toward the light and not beyond. Again, backwards, repetition, turning. A yule tide with no pull from the heavenly orb, burning.

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Dec 28, 2015

Dec 28, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC

Ex luna, scientia

Festooned with the heraldry of doom, a gilded, wainscoted room, whose occupants drink ale in an oozing swarm while harpers harp a solemn tune. The lioness gives obeisance to the new king with an offering of suffering, and warm droplets of water... Two fates inseparably soldered by misfortune, on this, the longest night then toward the light and not beyond. Again, backwards, repetition, turning. A yule tide with no pull from the heavenly orb, burning.

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Laying down in deep sleep I see you looking at me from across the room a holographic image, as you lay down, too in your faraway bed in your faraway room but your eyes, locked on mine this is what's close this is what's true I feel your gaze upon my third eye feel your loving stare deep inside it penetrates and weaves its way between the layers of my heart slices gently tears me apart being in torrid distance sometimes hurts and sometimes I don't feel it at all because in a space beyond the ticking of clocks in a set of hours that exists beyond locks in a private universe that exists just for us you are right here breathing next to me your chest rising with each deep, relaxed breath your mere presence catching my fall and as your eyes radiate love into mine from that bed across the zoneless moon our hands reach out, fingers intertwine two souls soldered in landscapes separate yet spanning the waves across time (and our nightair kisses fly like the tiniest of flowers confetti gliding voluptuously sweet and unfolding in raging, perpetual bloom)

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May 18, 2016

May 18, 2016 at 7:26 AM UTC

Perpetual Bloom

Laying down in deep sleep I see you looking at me from across the room a holographic image, as you lay down, too in your faraway bed in your faraway room but your eyes, locked on mine this is what's close this is what's true I feel your gaze upon my third eye feel your loving stare deep inside it penetrates and weaves its way between the layers of my heart slices gently tears me apart being in torrid distance sometimes hurts and sometimes I don't feel it at all because in a space beyond the ticking of clocks in a set of hours that exists beyond locks in a private universe that exists just for us you are right here breathing next to me your chest rising with each deep, relaxed breath your mere presence catching my fall and as your eyes radiate love into mine from that bed across the zoneless moon our hands reach out, fingers intertwine two souls soldered in landscapes separate yet spanning the waves across time (and our nightair kisses fly like the tiniest of flowers confetti gliding voluptuously sweet and unfolding in raging, perpetual bloom)

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To, The Queen of my Heart Though we be apart, many miles apart the distance is moot, when the love is afoot but a lot can be said, for a kiss on the head a warm touch on skin, a peck on the chin the lack of a hug, does on the heart tug but I pretend all that is less, than what I feel, I confess I have never shed a tear, but I was quite near If truth be told, and it is a fact of old Men are much more, than unfeeling bores we love, we kiss, we hurt when you are amiss its a facade we play, the mask we wear everyday we try to seem strong, its been so for so long which sometimes is viewed, as being dull, or rude So we were taught, what a man ought to do, and what not we don't wish to hurt, when we seem distant, or curt the mask won't come off, its soldered on tough but if you wont give up without a fuss, and there's no one but us I might let it drop, and open the lock so my heart may spring free, in tandem with thee and joy becomes me, after an eternity So bear with me my dear, I am but chained to my fear though there will be such times, when I join life's rhyme and together we shall dance, our hearts in a trance

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Sep 25, 2014

Sep 25, 2014 at 2:10 PM UTC

siddharth-penmetcha

Velvet beneath Rock

To, The Queen of my Heart Though we be apart, many miles apart the distance is moot, when the love is afoot but a lot can be said, for a kiss on the head a warm touch on skin, a peck on the chin the lack of a hug, does on the heart tug but I pretend all that is less, than what I feel, I confess I have never shed a tear, but I was quite near If truth be told, and it is a fact of old Men are much more, than unfeeling bores we love, we kiss, we hurt when you are amiss its a facade we play, the mask we wear everyday we try to seem strong, its been so for so long which sometimes is viewed, as being dull, or rude So we were taught, what a man ought to do, and what not we don't wish to hurt, when we seem distant, or curt the mask won't come off, its soldered on tough but if you wont give up without a fuss, and there's no one but us I might let it drop, and open the lock so my heart may spring free, in tandem with thee and joy becomes me, after an eternity So bear with me my dear, I am but chained to my fear though there will be such times, when I join life's rhyme and together we shall dance, our hearts in a trance

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My morals are a patchwork Stitched together from various other minds A well worn quilt I wrap myself in for security For blameless justification of a deformed belief system Twisted and gnarled with an arthritis of the spirit A hollow vessel made into a crock *** Full of someone else's ******** Stirred by resentment Stewed in fear and Served with anger To mask my ignorance and indifference I have a reputation for trivialities Snippets of soundbites Subliminally soldered Onto my sub-conscious Where they acquire the character Of authoritative wisdom More pious than a prophet! Holier than an ancient sage! I am a 21st century shaman A guru grifter Embryonic episodes Aborted for mass consumption Over cocktails and hor dourves

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Mar 11, 2015

Mar 11, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC

michael-j-daisey-jr

21st CENTURY SHAMAN

My morals are a patchwork Stitched together from various other minds A well worn quilt I wrap myself in for security For blameless justification of a deformed belief system Twisted and gnarled with an arthritis of the spirit A hollow vessel made into a crock *** Full of someone else's ******** Stirred by resentment Stewed in fear and Served with anger To mask my ignorance and indifference I have a reputation for trivialities Snippets of soundbites Subliminally soldered Onto my sub-conscious Where they acquire the character Of authoritative wisdom More pious than a prophet! Holier than an ancient sage! I am a 21st century shaman A guru grifter Embryonic episodes Aborted for mass consumption Over cocktails and hor dourves

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Echos and dreams met head-on with reality collision-like eye to eye it all came flooding back the memory no longer a ghost but standing in the flesh instead of fantasy the years did nothing to quell the burning recognition of eternity iris to iris held there in time stopped with the nagging sense of reality calling back the senses reality is a ***** and sure as hell is no friend of mine! I wish I had forgotten every detail faded in time The glimmer flashed only to burn the wick tracing each memory through the years of Devine hope soldered in eachothers hearts and a myriad of almosts now sat right beside me and you and I pretended we couldn’t remember each other’s names

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Oct 2, 2018

Oct 2, 2018 at 9:34 PM UTC

sylkie-smoothie

Echos and dreams met head-on with reality collision-like eye to eye it all came flooding back the memory no longer a ghost but standing in the flesh instead of fantasy the years did nothing to quell the burning recognition of eternity iris to iris held there in time stopped with the nagging sense of reality calling back the senses reality is a ***** and sure as hell is no friend of mine! I wish I had forgotten every detail faded in time The glimmer flashed only to burn the wick tracing each memory through the years of Devine hope soldered in eachothers hearts and a myriad of almosts now sat right beside me and you and I pretended we couldn’t remember each other’s names

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Day in. Night out. Inhabit the uninhabitable. Burn, and smolder. Who left you behind? **** to **** Lip to lip. Restless lovers on a summers night. No frill and lace for you. Decrepit corpses of once treasured breaks. Repulsive and lovely. Persuasively fickle. Sinews haphazardly soldered together. Lithesome substance, leave your remains. Salacious. Canine. Obsessive. Cancer.

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Dec 10, 2013

Dec 10, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC

anonymouse-jane

Day in. Night out. Inhabit the uninhabitable. Burn, and smolder. Who left you behind? **** to **** Lip to lip. Restless lovers on a summers night. No frill and lace for you. Decrepit corpses of once treasured breaks. Repulsive and lovely. Persuasively fickle. Sinews haphazardly soldered together. Lithesome substance, leave your remains. Salacious. Canine. Obsessive. Cancer.

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