"soundwave" poems
battered screws stripped bare by
a hundred thousand terrible twists
from an unsteady, inexperienced,
or overly excited hand
nearly rattling out of their proper positions,
hanging rather loosely
to the last threads of their holes.
fan them as they dangle,
fandangle!
but a blue gust from beneath
the anonymous and unidentifiable bursts
the shriveled scraps of low-grade steel
from their brittle perches
and
then one,
two,
threefourfivesixseventyeightmillion
clatterings invade all audibility,
heightening --- accentuating --- underscoring
each miniscule soundwave
until there is not much more than
white noise, crack-
ling like a ruddy transitor radio
i probably never had
but only equate it to for lack of
another more proper, perhaps more appropriate,
even more...profound (?) word, or, whatever;
hardware indignationum!
what abuses we dish these inanimates created by us for us!, and, yes,
i follow all syncretic trends to
their phenomenal (and fusional)
morphological ends. if i didn't, how could
i know the neutered from the neuterer?
attend to the screws;
the debased, bemused, once-bedazzled little bits strewn on the floor and
frazzled. go on,
get 'em up, up
off the ground.
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 1:27 PM UTC
Enchanted by a set of ocean tinted eyes.
They cast me through to precious times,
Of unlived highs and endless nights.
We gaze on to the other side,
And drift out with the tide.
Your touch transmits a frequency,
Forever fitting into me.
The tops of trees kiss the breeze,
That leads us to the Crystal Sea.
And here is where we find ourselves,
Sipping on wet rain drop tea;
Tasting of love's luxury.
So I embrace this new found face,
And trust in all the light,
That is seeping right,
From under you.
(Oh how I think you're beautiful)
Soaked in truth,
Like the wet full moon,
Gracing upon the ever-ocean.
We glide through time and onto bliss: Perpetual Motion.
And I could ride this all the way downtown.
With the breath of your love and your heart beat's sound.
I wanna breathe in your love and hear your heart beat loud.
And I might cry.
Might shout and try,
To wake me from this obvious dream.
Sometimes it seems,
Like this couldn't be real.
Oh, you're such a big deal.
But I know it's true by the way I feel.
So it does live on, this lovely trip lives
Right where my tongue left your lips.
Where the sun drips onto the wet full moon,
Filling our glasses with a love tycoon.
Lost in the soundwave of your soul,
That's singing a tune so pure and whole.
Oh, I wanna get down,
To the deep ends of town.
So I follow your heart beat's sound.
**((((((( *** )))))))**
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 1:57 AM UTC
i hate taking tests
my handwriting is not the best
i wish cried a lot less
i experience WAY too much stress
i never feel the need to dress for success
i just barely learned how to play chess
i've got a lot of secrets i don't plan to confess
i slept all day, but i still need a rest
i don't know why everything has to be a contest
i really don't like movies about the wild west
i think my favorite word just might be yes
school is such a pest
i've never stuck gum under a desk
i get one penny a month in interest
another word for a clown is a jest
i've never read consumser's digest
my prescribed medicine is the only controlled substance i ingest
i am firmly against ******
i don't understand what makes the shaving of a citrus a zest
the top of a soundwave is called a crest
birds keep their eggs inside of a nest
i really think this idea has me possessed
its not even that good but i keep making progress
i'm gonna end this before it all becomes a mess
i hope my rhymes have left you impressed
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 4:19 PM UTC
I wandered blackout drunk lost
trading cigarettes for directions
from crustpunks who took swigs
from bottles of cheap plasticsugar alcohol
Muttering to myself in selfdefense
sublimating the toxic fire in my eyes
into soundwave echoes
bouncing off of plywood windows
and abandoned stolen cars
Angry limping at breakleg pace
down the heroinblessed streets
of yet another vibrant American slum.
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 3:15 PM UTC
6:00 a.m.
It was her 28th birthday
She loaded the ***** laundry into a washing machine
and looked at the toilet that she needed to clean
She fixed her hair, she took a shower
without even looking at her own reflection on the mirror
She grabbed a cup of instant coffee
and gulped ounces of it to steer away the terror
She tossed the cup in the bin
but missed because her hands tremored
And as if time was racing with light speed
she saw the sunset fading away in retreat
She goes to work the next morning
with layers of concealer under her eyes
but she could never conceal her wistful smile
She comes home with her daughter sleeping in her bedroom
And on the sofa was her tired husband
still in his party clown costume
At the corner was the telephone with five voicemails from her mom
but she never found time to listen to her qualms
She glanced at the night sky from her window
with an almost unnoticeable sorrow
One day she woke up and she was 70
Still doing the same laundry
Still drinking the same instant coffee
She looked at her daughter walk down the aisle
with her father who almost never smiles
She brought flowers to her mom's grave
but she couldn't hear her from the other side with the distorted soundwave
She still walks out her doorstep with the same shoes
Almost getting tired of hearing the same news
She still sees the sunset from that window
And she looks out from them with the same almost unnoticeable sorrow
She woke up and she was 28 again
She started to make an effort to notice her face on the mirror
She took time to look at her mom and cheer her
She hugged her husband more and this time tighter
She sank her lips into her daughter's soft cheeks
And never dared to miss a moment when her innocent lips speaks
She walked out the door before the sun could set
to finally buy a new pair of shoes, they were red
She walked the earth as if it were her first time
and she locked her gaze into the golden sunshine
Time passed and she's now 92
And on her deathbed, she said
'If there's one thing that sunsets had taught me,
It is that transitions can be beautiful too.'
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 7:56 AM UTC
Nothing
but the hollowed out infinity where my life once nestled amongst the luminous dunes of the Sands of Time and the nauseating hopes of Forever.
And I,
a hideous, putrid, rotting thing, attached to that nothing like a leech, summoning my own power from pain, taking, taking, but giving little to those who once offered their strength but now deny me.
Yet I give.
Nothing
but my withered soul, desperate in my cracked snow globe of a reality where the ashes of love flitter to the ground, so dazzling, so pure, so deceiving until they kiss the scarred earth.
And I
give my heart to them so secretly that they do not notice, do not appreciate my token through their suffering, until all that I am shrivels, wrinkled and useless, and nothing remains but a shallow whimper, the ghost of a sob.
And those cries fall upon deaf, cauliflowered ears, solid lumps with no purpose awaiting the soundwave that will finally shatter their silence.
Still I give.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 3:59 PM UTC
It's time the symbols took the weight
Of cement and conglomerate living
Would that I could.
cut a section
Would it be
Like half a soundwave?
The high frequency of a human scream
Is the right sort of knife needed to 2D a skyscraper
Monument of dreams, monument of money, paper building
Like a castle of cards, down, when the
Wind blows softly on.
between
Jagged openings and
Lighting pole leaves, so straight, so
Bright it burns me,
(what?)
I'm crossing.
I'm going,
I'm coming.
I'm moving.
(Moving on)
The roads and streets
are deserted by humans.
Humans crush such anthills.
We always feel safer among
the thousands. The roads
and streets are deserted
by humans.
M o v i n g a l o n g . . .
between
Jagged openings and
Lighting pole leaves, so straight, so
Wide
They'll support the weight of a new cement sky.
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 9:12 AM UTC
every now and again you are trudging
maybe it's an enormous space
might be one huge book. On a full day you are a beautiful soundwave
Beaming at me. I know all the pretty girls want to smile really,
In some ways, we're only driven by
what becomes two
& anyway, eyes
Are eyes
© Copyright David Bosworth March 2013
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 2:07 PM UTC
I don't know when it happened,
But it happened.
Your smile lights up my soul,
Your eyes warm my heart,
Your laugh makes my brain itch,
A special itch,
One where I fall deeper in love,
Deeper with every soundwave falling to my eardrums.
I love it,
I love you.
I'm happy,
You make me happy.
Apr 4, 2025
Apr 4, 2025 at 3:44 PM UTC
a starless night. a darkness dividing us.
the weight of the love coming down
on me thinking just having a drink.
there he, is again, comes by, different
forms and ways. so I got myself
a new tattoo. a white one.
one you can hardly see but hear as
it's the soundwave of my song
of all songs. about birds
wind
islands
freedom. an endless sea.
not even a consideration
not making it up
I'd love the new and the now
and yet memory never fades,
his power of final presence
my power to loose composure
this fight you think
you won. no last words
for me in his final
say.
Nov 30, 2019
Nov 30, 2019 at 1:11 PM UTC