"solidifies" poems
I feel your love,
Yet your marksmanship is poor,
For towards me your love aims not.
Your intentions aimed elsewhere.
A past lover.
And I am not he.
Malicious Misery pushed you too far.
Too far this time.
Your life is precious to me,
Yet a treasure you seek not.
It dwindles within these machines,
Like a strand of seaweed.
Being crashed upon by the waves,
Of this poison you endowed yourself with.
Much a tragedy this is.
Yet not that of Shakespeare.
No, this much too real,
To take a form of fictitious imaginings.
This, much more complicated,
Than a Shakespearean masterpiece.
For if so,
Your love would be aimed at I.
But it is not,
And in resent, I mourn this tragedy.
Yet, I must let love,
Travel upon its everso hellbound path.
My eyes lie upon thee,
And my heart within the feeble hand of yours.
Yet your mind lies elsewhere,
And your desires lie with your mind.
Upon he.
The one currently at your arms reach.
The one at your desires demand.
The one you truly love.
I must not resent this,
For love hath struck thee as it struck I.
And Cupid's arrow hath stuck he as well.
I can see it in his sorrowful stare.
He loves you in a way that I cannot.
A consentful love.
For I am just a scapegoat.
Temporary.
Well now you've quenched your desire.
You've acquired what you sought.
Love of he.
(And I, for whatever its worth.)
His love is a precious gold,
And mine a mere coal.
Black, unwanted.
Only able to provide temporary warmth.
Pardon me for obstructing.
Love hath stolen my precious vision,
And wandered, I,
Into the meadow in which you hunt.
As a poor marksman,
Thou cast thine arrow of love upon me,
And realized I am but a scapegoat,
When the white stag is what you seek.
Once before,
you lined him in your sights.
But evasive is this mystical creature.
And once, he escap'd.
If your life so solidifies,
I shall replinish my vision,
Banish my love,
And obstruct thee no more.
Instead,
I must prosper in silence and patience.
Shun my hearts desires,
And let thee hunt.
I apologize for my inconvenience.
I shall groom each of your horses,
So that you may ride into,
The meadow of love together.
Hence, beware of hunters,
And wandering creatures.
Teach thine unsteady hand,
And this time...
Don't miss.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 4:19 AM UTC
~
each intersection, a crossroad made,
every answer, a question began;
each wrong, a right opposing,
every song, a note composing,
after darkness, the light again!
angry words won’t heal the pain,
apologies like ointment’s rain;
flood-washed roads a crossing need,
no line in sand, a bridge instead,
points me north, your heart to claim!
i am no island, though often seems,
my pained retreat, a blood trail leaves;
i find my greatest strength of all,
within your heart’s loving embrace,
held firmly in your grip of grace!
there is no strength in platitudes,
cliches are weak, like worn out shoes;
the darkened bank cannot hold sway,
o’er lighted bridge that leads the way,
points me north, and back to you!
~
*post script.
learning something of
defense mechanisms,
mine in particular;
sadly, when brokenness
is too acute to hide,
the retreat is not bloodless.
bridges built of simple
three-word sentences
greatly needed ... not a
crafted flood of well-worded,
defensive responses.
“i am sorry!” and “i love you!”...
two, eight-letter, three-cord ropes,
requiring no word-smithing,
yet are sound-ly engineered
for mending souls and
building hearts-bridges
not easily broken...
each capable of bearing
(baring) great weights.
and yes, there are notes composing here,
for it is said, “a song solidifies
the heart’s passionate decisions!”*
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 1:08 PM UTC
/ as i am pretty sure all americana
feels about "us":
oh 'ook, 'ere comes old man
europe,
no hemmingway,
and no so: as the casual english
expression solidifies exchanges:
just across the atlantic:
the, pond...
haven't the foggiest...
i'm "new" here,
and even i find these english prims
& pomps and idiosyncracies
a bit debilitating...
today i walked from my home
with a knife in my pocket...
why... why?!
apparently it's worse
than new york,
a belt as a qusimodo boxing
glove won't cut it,
given that that:
requires a formal introduction,
prior to a fight...
guns guns guns...
over 'ere we 'ave knives knives knives...
and politicians can't exactly
ban them... no, not really...
ban knives, soon you'll be banning
forks, then spoons...
and then...
the whole ******* kitchen...
we'll all be eating out,
in public, cheap cheap cheap,
cheap restaurants
like the slovakians eat in...
can you even imagine that while
in st. petersburg i didn't see,
not one mcdonalds...
same so in moscow:
not a single mcdonalds...
it was like a: relief...
a bit like only seeing africanos
only, but not elsewhere other than warsaw;
erm: afro-saxons?
sure! we have them in england,
plenty of afro-saxons...
so now afro(x)
is not pop-up frizzy hair,
bundled into a french bun...
type of... "thing"?
**** yeah!
hit the spot!
oh old man europe...
tired and yet, and yet tired
of his riches,
how craving the old trenches
of Ypres...
the belgian mud, the rain,
the rats and crows...
europe: lament over libya...
or even pseudo-neo-rome
lamenting over carthage being destroyed...
in reverse -
abbrv. into - orior carthago!
was it cato the elder
who persisted counter to this?
as heidegger would have put it:
that's not even question-worthy.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 7:26 PM UTC
I'm not special
I'm just one out of seven billion
And we're all interconnected
So why am I the only one driving down this road?
You don't have my address
Or my wifi password
Have you found the bat in your gazebo?
I found mine
And named him Bruce
The leaves that fall on my vehicle
Touch no other's
And the rain that pours onto me
Soaks into my skin
It becomes a part of me
That sets me apart
Subjectivity solidifies separation
Like Saturn's rings
A planetary population of particles
That create something beautiful together
Our species is special
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 9:22 AM UTC
I am an African,
Just like you are,
Here I am in Africa,
From Africa,
I may speak,
Not your African language,
But a cataclysmic African,
Who speaks my African language,
I am.
An inferior African,
You may as you do,
Regard me,
But still,
African I am,
African I cry,
African I laugh,
African I sing,
African I live.
You have made me feel ashamed,
To be in this part of Africa,
But never,
Will you make me feel ashamed,
To be African,
Whatever derogatory labels,
You may stick on me,
No matter how unAfrican,
Kwerekwere, Grigamba or whatever,
But still,
I will be an African,
Even a much better one.
African,
Like my father,
His fore fathers,
And their forefathers,
African,
Just like I was yesterday,
African,
Just like I am now,
African,
That is what I will always be,
And African,
Forever.
According to the author, we are all foreigners in any country on this earth, more like tenants. No one has any claim to any portion of this earth for it belongs to God. The barbaric, self-centered and intolerant demeanor we have recently witnessed in South Africa tells the story of mindless teaks on a dog that are claiming to own the dog and solidifies the myth that Africa is a dark continent and Africans are still stuck in the animal kingdom. How do we dispute what is becoming more of a fact that “you can take Africans from the bush but you can never take the bush out of Africans”. Fellow South Africans (the perpetrators), you have proved to be more disgusting than ***** and the most befitting place for you is the sewage dump that is far away from Africa. If there was another Africa that is not this Africa, I would have done the obvious and most logical thing – to completely disassociate my dignified African self from the brainless, destructive, inhuman thugs that you are. Today, I am an African who is dead ashamed to be African!
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 4:48 AM UTC
Assalamu alaikum, may peace be upon you!
I'm Islam,
The religion of peace & ease
Islam is not hatred or adversity
or a course in the university
Hold on a minute,
I'm sure you are familiar with me,
Oh yes you're,
You see me everyday in the news,
Been accused of things I didn't do,
Are you amused or transfixed
Cause I'm been abused?
Lol let me break it down for you,
Like my brother kadir rightly said,
In his last poem,I'm not a terrorist,
They say,
I have become a threat to the west to the world in wide,
I have been black listed,
Among the list of the rest to the west,
You know,
It sounds so funny when I'm been addressed as a terror,
Some even go far calling me an error,
They say i terrorise & create tension
that's not my intention,
I don't give out such instructions,
I have obligated you to fast & pray,
& not discriminate,
I have obligated you not to hate & lower your gaze,
For lustful eyes crystallize Into habit & habit solidifies into circumstance,
I tell you not to use harmful substance,
For the pain won't subside,
it will only lead to suicide,
I tell you to respect others religion,
and play with your wife during your leisure,
I tell you to be kind to others & never raise your hand on a woman,
I mean if I tell you that,
Why would you raise your hand on a human,
I have given you a holy book of truth,
Sent from up above your roof,
Yet you go from root to root searching for truth & then you end up been used,
I tell you not you **** unjustly,
You may call me a saint,
Yes I'm,
Cause i've been sent by the creator to the creations,
I'm not a preacher nor a teacher,
But I'm here to preach to those who are wretched & rich,
My message to humanity is that vanity,
creates insanity,
So to those who are sensitive,
Take up the responsibility to defend my name ,
In time of shame,
Some i permit ,some i do not,
For you will have a shade in hereafter.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 3:51 PM UTC
The clock ticks, a persistent sound
So timely, predictable, comforting
Straight like a board, simplicity is complexity
The small hand is their conductor
Pup-petting their very motion
The walls creak the sound of despair
Longing to be relieved from their shackles
Hollowing out their insides, Revealing their holes
Concrete, stucco, asphalt
Solidifies their existence
The board mocks their silent screams
An empty canvas to be scribbled upon
Steered by the gestures of its very strokes
Tainted by the smell of the ink’s sweet high
A reflection of their inner thoughts
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 1:55 AM UTC
I want to be in a love like this forever.
With your eyes grazing my skin,
Following your circling fingertips.
You touch me in a way, so delicately,
So lovingly, like you actually care.
Your kisses that you place on my forehead
As I’m drifting off into paradise
Remind me what spring love is supposed to look like.
The grass under my toes pull me into the present
While we dance across the lawn with our hands intertwined.
Butterflies zig zag across my vision and you spin me around.
The music drowns out all of our other problems.
And life feels beautiful.
When I’m in my sundress and
You’re watching me from our picnic blanket
You tell me you love me, and my heart begins to flutter.
The last days of cold are erased by your beautiful laugh
The warmth of sunlight and the soft cool breeze
Further pushes our passion and solidifies our feelings.
You grip my waist and lift me into the air.
Time feels rosy and fair, while the birds chirp and call.
With no real agenda, without the controlling menace of time.
We hold hands and spend the afternoons enjoying the bliss.
The newly bloomed flowers and reappearance of green
Feels like a long awaited, highly anticipated surprise
As does our relationship.
We take in the pink skies together,
Hoping we will never have to say goodbye,
Affectionately kissing one another.
Knowing this is a time we will always miss.
Spring, is a time for new beginnings.
It is the perfect time, for a love like this.
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 5:01 PM UTC
Let’s go to an antimatter universe
Where hot ice solidifies
Under the black light of the freezing sun.
A world where short giraffes hide beneath
The tall grass, amongst low trees.
See those high plains, watery deserts and low mountains.
Slow flies crawl over red skies
As turtles and tortoises speed around.
Here, hot sun is an oxymoron
And everything is downside up.
Or if you prefer we could visit a realm
Like on “Red Dwarf”
Where time flies backwards:
People formed from dusty death
To live and grow youthful
On the way to an inevitable birth
And death again
When parental **** parts from *****
Paul Butters
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 4:50 AM UTC
each moment perceives new ecstasies through me,
as vision locks on every shifting road
still leading home, most fervently.
percolated dreams reveal
the seeds that have been well concealed.
as each moment waves so delicately
mimicking a cloth in the breeze,
in the breath of an exhale
a future is foreseen
within me.
ॐ
boiling from me is
the steam of my awareness,
as the torch within now flares.
flowing gently into the air I breathe,
consciousness solidifies chemically;
vibrant harmony extends,
as minds eye stares.
at this place inside me
where I will dwell eternally,
embracing all I've made.
despite a razor thin gaze,
all roads lead home.
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 1:45 PM UTC
For a moment you a moonlit dream,
me a grounded reality got intertwined.
You the best of good,
me the worst of bad
met at the right corner of the round world.
However, like a flame finding fuel,
my fear of the lovely dawn solidifies.
Alas, the dream that can't be grasped has finally disappeared.
Dec 5, 2021
Dec 5, 2021 at 4:29 AM UTC
We hobble along with outrage fatigue
And watch as nothing ever exhausts
Our Machiavellian leaders' use
Of the media to win at all costs.
False story lines prevail.
To hell with accuracy and precision.
Sowing distrust of higher learning
Solidifies their paranoid vision.
Watch how their destructive disdain
For expertise gains vitality
As people's opinions and feelings stomp
On any form of objective reality.
Watch as they rewrite history;
Notice how data can be erased
As they become suspicious of much
Information that's science-based.
Language becomes weaponized:
Hyperbole, salacious lies,
And slippery superlatives
Celebrate truth's demise.
Party loyalty: that is key.
All that matters is the sale.
Hijacking democracy
Becomes the goal: the holy grail.
Mobilized by grievance, they
Inflame fear and anger. They hope
That we will find scapegoats to blame
When we are at the end of our rope.
A general illiteracy
On issues that affect our lives
Keeps us all in doubt while they
Create fake news and sharpen their knives.
Ah, how they want you to fear
Government, which is ironic,
For they themselves are government.
Look at their smiles, cold and sardonic.
Give equal weight to both
Sides of arguments, they say.
That's how they can justify
Bigotry and lead us astray.
While extremist views go mainstream,
Blurred lines make life hazy.
Keep watering narcissism,
And you will see it grow like crazy.
Their careful manipulation of language
Proves how much their rhetoric's swollen.
The people find it hard to accept
That basic freedoms are being stolen.
As we lament the death of truth
And wonder how it came to pass,
Before we cast blame we must
Peer into the looking glass.
-by Bob B (9-28-18)
°Inspired by "The Death of Truth" by Michiko Kakutani
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 11:37 AM UTC
Rushed by the stormy ‘purple rains’
Crescendos that picks in all peaks
Softness of the male energy portrayed
Prolifically flamboyant and eccentric
Ambiguous, mysterious sensual reciter
Classically unconventional and different
Shedding the specifications of gender roles
Crowned by dark shades of violet pizzazz
As the rain settles on the dusty grounds
As the soil solidifies and paste the others
As the dove wails looking for its nature
Rest in peace as the mascara waters down
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 1:52 PM UTC
not even my skin is as black as they
following me step for step
we all possess them
but only when the sun shows its face
letting us know that they’re seen any chance they get
the brightness from the sun solidifies their loyalty
never to let us forget they’re behind us
it’s a shame how that same loyalty
dims to darkness
just as the sun does
just as they do
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 8:51 AM UTC
Days like today bring me to reminisce,
of the life we shared, now an abyss.
Recent life has been testing,
this lonely Mother’s Day solidifies your resting.
Today it feels more like you were never here,
what type of life is it that I’m now investing?
Posed with the question of happiness.
what is this meaning without you?
living today admonishes the truth,
only former memories allow me your bliss.
Mixed feelings of love and hatred,
circumvent in this current conquest.
As I contemplate reaching out I'm reminded,
that your remains are all that is left.
Be at peace with the truth,
is the message you conveyed well.
I question God about this new reality,
a life filled with constant duality.
Your loss is permanent,
& recognizing this is pertinent.
This daily battle without you,
I cope because your gift of a DNA armament.
“Time brings perspective”,
were the words that escaped from your soul.
You are still my everything,
and today I escape into your memory.
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 7:35 PM UTC
Dear one,
As the domino, I fall cascading on the drawing board. Why would one deny progression? A furtherance , the ebb and flow. I remain up beat and spirited as I read your letters. It's like a barred barricade is being lifted.Your glowing light is charging me. Certainty is liberating, the riding of the waves have become a skill that I have engrossed. The tides spread from shore to shore and I must anchor. I am ever grateful for your deliberation in regard to my current affairs. Your magnanimity is greatly appreciated.
As I am
Enormous, bountifulness of free spirit. Episodes of taciturnity alternated by sequences of thrill are remarkably felt. The higher level linking is simultaneous , coordinated and equidistant. As life propels, years progress a resemblance of energy is greatly congruent. The conforming compatibility of the absolute is evident. Transpiration of what once known yet unknown surfaces, erupts and consolidates a new meaning. A renewed existence, a recovered emergence solidifies. These moments are so evident, abundantly and vehemently felt on every fibre,bone and muscle of my being. Right to the core of my soul, my very existence.
On the tangent of thoughts........"J" the jewel... the forgotten treasure. What happened to the nature trueness that stroked your mind? The non win compromises aren't spontaneous. We must realign.... we must.
Vous êtes magnifiquement merveilleux et excellent en tous les moyens possible.
You sure do give me the butterflies......
You hold me in skies high above.
I can't control the butterflies.........
Is it just a flutter ?
To progress as you progress.....
SassyJ
Inspired by........
Natasha Bedingfield (Soulmate)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P27MPi3ZhCg
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 2:35 PM UTC
An insistent past solidifies a present crumbling at my feet --
To rubble so fine it rains through desperately cupped hands.
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 12:47 PM UTC
***My fortress of solitude
solidifies regret
counterbalancing justification
with waning self worth
It could be worse
and I am imperfect
so I stay in this place invisible
seen only in degrees unworthy
But here alone
I can pretend I am strong
the truth hidden
by what I cannot show
Words are my friends
where my thoughts
are my enemies
Still, I remain
Not bad enough to leave
Just horrible enough to keep me hidden in this isolation
ashamed to show my face
afraid to be free and learn...
it's all true***
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 11:09 AM UTC
we place so much importance
on words, don’t we?
like these black lines
define us or something
like these speech bubbles can represent
the real thing inside
so why do we find words for things
that do not exist?
and why are there some things
that we cannot describe?
four letters, four words
an entire book isn’t enough
to explain how i feel right now
when i hardly know myself
and that’s just the thing
we place so much importance on words
as if they can say what we can’t
as if i could just reach inside myself
and pull out this feeling, confused and unheard
and words will fill in the blanks for me
but it’s not like that
we place so much importance
on something we created ourselves
and we write words down, like love
and hate and everything in between
and it seems to me like putting pen to paper
just solidifies the definition
tattoos it into reality’s skin, and it sinks in
and that word takes hold
whether or not it was true
of course, here i am
hypocritical as usual
tearing down the one thing
that lets me speak my mind
but i guess i just wish there was some other way
to figure out how i really feel
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 10:26 PM UTC
coldshoulders abound,
the gowns gather moss
on the carpeted plains,
with a snaggletooth
and a plainface,
I kiss your blue lips--
I kiss your blue lips--
I kiss your blue lips--
if you love him,
why do you spend your time with me--
if you love to dream,
why have you been overindulging on grief,
we can build a family,
a torrent,
a tree,
a yellow bird,
and three graves--
call it real estate,
call it legacy,
just call it more than it seems--
coldshoulders abound
circling like vultures,
circling around the maypole,
taste turns mundane,
so we bite with sharpened teeth,
so we pull hair with renewed vigor,
I kiss your blue lips--
I kiss your blue lips--
I kiss your blue lips--
until the hot red liquid of time solidifies.
Apr 4, 2011
Apr 4, 2011 at 10:50 AM UTC
the moment when you met was rather insignificant
but then someone told you that she liked you
and you realized that – hey – you suddenly liked her too.
and so you expectedly courted her
kissing her at moments that you did with previous girls
telling her old sentences
recycling plainly hidden stories from your childhood:
one showing your good heartedness
one about your embarrassing marching band days (without forgetting to mention your pop-punk band now)
and, of course, the first girlfriend tale that makes you seem vulnerable.
and through these, you reveal things to her that other girls, now decaying in your mind, have known for many many months.
yes you hook up
and the *** is up to par
and there’s some appeal to the overall lack of trying involved.
you date as obligation
and you somehow convince yourself that you love her
because feeling wanted feels so **** pleasant
and her lack of intrusion on the rest of your life is pretty convenient overall.
and out of complacency this love takes hold
or at least solidifies like an algae bloom
and you grow tired for settling
and she gets exhausted from caring
and everything stagnates to a perfect balance.
your blood hardens to plastic
so the your muscles can no longer fight
against the unsettling comfort of the life
you said you’d never lead.
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 11:23 PM UTC
The abscission of inner voice comes,
storm from a vein of clouds,
cut that bleeds a profusion of thoughts.
She trails a finger through confusion,
seeks coagulation, anything that solidifies.
Free but lonely --- an epitaph signed
by empty arms from lip to heart,
extended to a faithless world.
Something more than silence ---
tears form a haptic prayer.
Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 5:03 PM UTC
He creeps in,
Makes no sound.
I feel him,
As he exhales his crystallising cold breath,
Cold to the touch yet warm.
He holds me,
Helps me,
Saves me.
His blue icy lips gentle kiss,
My neck is frozen,
My spine it shivers.
A tear flowing down my cheek,
Slows as it solidifies,
To cold, icy dust.
I'm stagnant,
Immobile,
Scared.
He slowly moves,
Icicles are forming on my chin,
As tears flow.
My eyes are shut but I feel his blistering, cold breath,
As it embraces my face,
I can breathe.
His lips move closer,
I can feel it.
They meet mine in perfect alignment,
And then it was blue,
As they joined mine we formed a lilac sea,
Cold to the touch,
Inviting me in.
My eyes opened,
He was gone,
Again,
I was alone.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 10:31 AM UTC
A weeping willow grows inside to take the place of me
For I cannot identify with any other tree
With branches frayed and leaves to clothe my sappy human bark
I cling to roots that planted me before I made them dark
And so I wait, my patience worn, til seasons pass us by
And bring you back to water me with saltiness divine
Open up your cloudy sky and let yourself come down
You need to know that all this time you've nursed my shallow ground
I'm ready now, much more than I have ever been before
And your delay solidifies the rings within my core
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 12:38 AM UTC
The warmth
Of steamed, solids turned liquid
Thaws my frostbitten throat.
My solar plexus heats
Recalibrates my needs
And diverts resources.
Coffee provides what I do not receive
From a warm body gone missing.
My core solidifies, as clay in a kiln.
If I cannot have a hand to warm mine
A mug will do.
But if I cannot have you
Liquid is a poor substitute.
Sep 7, 2010
Sep 7, 2010 at 1:35 PM UTC