"staggeringly" poems
She strides down the street,
Holds that cancer stick up to her mouth,
Takes a deep breath in,
Filling her lungs with lethal smoke,
Gradually rotting away her
Interior.
Her heart beats out of her chest.
[A heart divided between two hearts.]
He’s waiting at the street corner
Between the alley of lust and the
Path of ignorance.
She sees his silhouette in the
Distance, a dark apparition.
Her heart leaps out of her chest,
Towards him,
Reaching for him,
Propelling her to him.
She had absolutely no control over the matter.
The other man she loves is home
Alone, waiting for her too.
Moments ago, he
Held her in his arms,
Kissed her goodbye,
Told her to hurry back soon.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too” - the words
Suddenly conveyed
No meaning to her.
She told him she was
Running an errand, when,
In reality,
She was running away
From him.
[*A heart divided between two hearts
Can never really be a heart.*]
His love suffocates her.
His love drowns her
In its constancy,
In its predictability.
With him, she feels like a
Bird with its wings ripped off.
Held captive, in a wire cage.
[*A heart divided between two hearts
Can never beat the way it should.*]
How can a woman with two men
Who love her
Feel so
Staggeringly
Alone?
Who will love her until their
Disintegrating hearts turn into
Simply dust.
[*A heart divided between two hearts
Can never really keep from rupturing,
Infecting the body with its own poisons.*]
So she lets her underground lover
Envelop her in his arms
And kiss her until both of their lips
Are numb,
Until they both want more.
Until they cannot restrain themselves.
His love releases her out of her
Cage, allows her to fly once again.
The passion of these moments
Will never be forgotten.
His love brings the roses back to
Her lifeless cheeks, brings life
Back to the void inside her.
And, his love allows her
To fly back home, once again,
Straight into the arms of the
Man who is her keeper.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 3:05 AM UTC
I will always feel your presence
Through these quantum
Ethereal waves
These strings they bind
Through our time lines
Beyond the conscious states
Countless questions
Reasoning why
Staggeringly suspect
Those subtle lies
It seems quite complicated
Yet it's as simplistic as can be
Along came a wind of change
And blew two spirits free
...
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 6:50 AM UTC
Nothingness.
Imagine nothingness.
That nothingness which is nothing of the nothingness we are all familiar with:
Not that nothingness which is nothing but empty space and time
Like when you open an empty room.
No.
That nothingness where nothing truly exists:
Not space,
Not even time.
A singular point.
Imagine a singular point.
The ultimate singular point that contains all possible points
In the development of the universe
Come out and expand
From the birthing of time, the instance of The Big Bang,
(Which by the way is not a large explosion, as the words imply, but a silent rapid expansion)
Pushing the envelope
Where nothingness begins.
Chance.
Imagine chance.
The random occurrence of events:
Of fundamental particles colliding and uniting
Or annihilating each other,
Giving rise to protons, neutrons and electrons;
Giving rise to the periodic table,
To compounds, both organic and inorganic,
To macromolecules.
Billions of years.
Imagine billions of years
Gone by,
And billions of galaxies filling the sky:
Stars and quasars and pulsars
Planets and comets and meteors
***** nilly hurtling through
Dark matter and ever expanding space,
Yet inanimate still
,
A single cell.
Imagine a single cell
Form inexplicably so,
In a staggeringly highly improbable way
As carbon molecules combine,
Start to throb and pulsate:
Chance bringing forth life
In a barren and otherwise
Lifeless universe.
Consciousness
Imagine consciousness
Purposive, willful, deliberate
Feelings
Imagine feelings
Love, compassion, hatred
Imagine all in a universe that came out of itself from nothingness.
It is hard, of course,
For after all, we are creatures of somethingness!
But at this point
You must have seen the Point
Of all the ramblings and turns in the trajectory of my thought
Tracing the evolutionary course of the universe
From nothingness and that singular point
That without God
All things are
After all
Pointless!
.
And so,
Let us not deplore, as a great poet once did,
That this world “so various, so beautiful, so new
Hath no joy, nor love, nor light
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain…”
For what else should we expect
Of a cold, unfeeling universe?
What?
Give us some Novocain?
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 4:36 PM UTC
It was time for love that never shone
A southern wind so coldly blown
In lies of madness I walked by night
So frail and jaded these ropes of life
I gave in to my whispering voice
A deed so forbidden, so staggeringly moist
By lust of madness, insanity ruled
In guilt and shame an act so lewd
How such a feeling could bewitch my soul
No biologist or mindologist could ever know
Love is such a fine line and I crossed her there
Alone in the madness of eternal despair
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 8:53 AM UTC
Could it be that locked in memory
Ancient thoughts are held in store,
Passed on by Neanderthal man
Who's origins we may recall.....
Ape like in physique and frame,
Prominent prognathus jaw,
Burning eyes intense and sharp,
Intelligence to seek for more.
Telepathic thought transference
Little need for guttural grunt,
Massive strength in hand and thigh
Stinking pelt to back and front.
Rushing through the reed and long grass
Casting lance with lunging throw,
Mastodon with roaring bellow
Thrashing trunk with thunderous blow.
Darkness in the smoky cavern
Clustered at the flinted flame,
Family and others warming
Squat encircled, chewing game.
Listening in the chill of moonlight
Listening to the wolf pack howl,
Out across the snow clad forest
Out beyond the hooting owl.
Chewing pelts to soften leather
Massive teeth in massive jaw,
Wary eyes observe the weather
Southern winds may bring the thaw.
Luscious she with scent ascending,
Luscious she with hairy maw,
Bent to me in sweet surrender
Downy hip and coaxing paw.
Roar in rage and beat the earth
Blazing eyes and heaving chest,
Invasion from the **** Sapiens
Seeking females for their nest.
Skies descend with fire and brimstone
Rock cascades and burns the earth,
Mountain God has vent his fury
Scamper hard to cave’s safe berth.
Cold, so cold this bleak snow weather
No retreat from Winter’s ire
Brother, sisters, sons are huddled
Frozen dead in blue ice byre.
Few, so few now to migration
Trek to southern food and heat,
Starving, wet and hypothermic
Staggeringly trudge the weak.
Few, so few to intermingle
With the **** Sapiens here,
Serfs in ******* low and squalid
BUT SURVIVORS..STRONG AND CLEAR!
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
13 August 2011
Aug 13, 2011
Aug 13, 2011 at 12:39 AM UTC
Are you even aware how staggeringly gorgeous you are?
I don't just mean the symmetry of your ****** features or the temperature of your deep blue eyes.
I mean all of you.
How beautiful you are when you run your fingers around the tops of your ears when you are in deep though.
How inspiring your gaze on something that ignites that passion in you.
How stunning the furrow in your brow when someone hurts your loved ones.
How magnificent your voice singing the language of souls.
Even the crinkly skin on your elbows makes me smile because it is you.
Do you know how beautiful you are?
How perfectly unique you are?
The world is a much better place with you in it, gracing us with your infinite radiance.
-t.s.
Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 1:39 AM UTC
Sistah soul
Foundation like my soles
Warmth like the sol
Strings attached like you sew
Invest your feelings so you stow
My sol shines from you
My soul is proud of you
The arch of my feet rely on you
You keep me from shivering
You keep my feelings rendering
And my feet from blistering
My soul
Sol
And soles
Solely my soul sistah, lover, friend, and homie
Just you and I knitted together
Hope you and I stay crocheted forever
Tethered tightly
And sewed by our souls staggeringly
You are my Soul Sistah
Dearest
Cheerful
Merest
Miracle
Spiritual
I love my soul
I love you so
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
You can die from their tears
I check the board to find out
who has passed away the previous night
and then don my personal protective equipment
Everything has been rigorously sterilised
I have forty five minutes to treat and care
as we sometimes collapse from heat exhaustion
I care for the weakest
first those who cannot move from their blood
**** and *****
They look at me with such pleading sorrowful eyes
babies, children, adults, , some have the courage to smile
I smile back with my eyes
Care is compressing and feeding
to keep up their strength
They must fight this devastating disease alone
I disrobe and painfully flick my elastic band
every time I touch my face
We sterilise and sterilise but you can never be sure
Rarely there is a ray of sunshine
I have been singing and dancing with little Kaita for days
behind the yellow fence
and now she is free to go home
We celebrate any little victories to carry on
Dear God, I beg you, please make terrifying Ebola gone
This poem is a tribute to those with Ebola and the thousands of workers who help them. In January cases are set to rise to a staggeringly sad 1.4 million.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 10:55 AM UTC
I am a dream dancer.
My strings are taut
over the vaults of the sky so soft.
Like a quiet muse I hear
the silent night breaking in.
Like marble, strands of clouds shine brightly,
in shades of rosé and nacre here,
those anxious sounds are getting lost,
now blanching in rust and debris near.
I am a dream dancer,
staggeringly floating in the sea of the world,
wobbling and falling on thin ropes,
spoiled in nothingness and oh so empty,
despicably holding the here in fear.
I am a dream dancer.
And I fall
As an eternal bliss truant
To the ground.
© fey (28/12/17)
Sep 14, 2020
Sep 14, 2020 at 2:23 AM UTC
Sweet serpentine snake,
So staggeringly stunning,
Say something sanguine.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 1:38 AM UTC
A farmer working in a field
Felt compassion for his horse--
A tired, overworked jade.
He let it go with no remorse.
When villagers discovered that
The farmer's horse had been set free,
They wondered how the man would prosper.
The farmer succinctly said, "We'll see."
Days later the farmer's horse
Returned to the poor man's piece of land,
Bringing along several others,
Eager to give a helping hand.
The villagers heard the wonderful news
And rushed to share the farmer's glee.
"How fortunate you are!" they said.
The farmer merely replied, "We'll see."
The next day the villagers
Watched with ghastly fear in their faces
The son fall while training the horses
And break his leg in numerous places.
Lamenting the farmer's sad misfortune,
They asked how he would ever be
Able to work the land on his own.
The farmer again replied, "We'll see."
Soon a terrible war broke out.
The emperor needed able young men.
Because of his broken leg, the farmer's
Son was excused from duty. Again
The villagers went to the farmer, saying
"Your son escaped the emperor's decree.
How lucky for both of you!" The farmer
Responded by only saying, "We'll see."
Even though the son's leg healed,
The son walked with a definite limp.
Village children viciously teased him,
Calling him a klutz and a gimp.
The villagers came to see the farmer,
Their words of pity staggeringly
Effusive. "Aren't you sad?" they asked.
The farmer smiled and said, "We'll see."
The sons of the villagers died in the war.
The farmer, along with his only son,
Worked the land, grew quite wealthy,
And never complained to anyone.
Once in a while he'd meet his friends
And chat over a cup of tea.
"How lucky you are!" they'd say to him.
He'd shrug his shoulders and say, "We'll see."
- By Bob B (2-21-17)
°An old Chinese tale retold in verse
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 1:00 PM UTC
A fat young woman sat reading her graphic novel
(don't you love it that they call comic books graphic novels
nowadays so as not to offend the mongos who read them?)
- apologies apologies I digress from my narrative I fear -
her eyes followed the words slowly one by one
and her lips very visibly mouthed each syllable
as though such a pathetic process might help the meaning
to sink in at least partially to her poor addled half-educated wits
(in case you haven't worked it out by now I should explain
she was a bit stupid in fact much thicker than two short planks,
but I suppose that's an unkind thing to say really
but what the hell this is ******* free thought association
and stream of ******* consciousness isn't it?)
Bearing in mind that the poor fat cow had a brain
only marginally more adroit than a bluebottle's
she was doing quite well as she had after all
reached as far as page five after only two hours
when something marginally untoward occurred
as she suddenly felt a nasty pain in her tummy
and in some atavistic sort of way that realised she was on
the verge of having a miscarriage which was quite
a shock bearing in mind she didn't even know
she was seven months pregnant at the time
having been unable to read the birds and bees manual
she had been given as a present by her mummy.
But it was just as well taking everything into consideration
bearing in mind she was unmarried (surprise! surprise!)
and had no idea who the father might have been
as (how oh how can I put this delicately?)
she was totally the village bicycle having been ridden by everyone
including most of the teachers at the ******** folks home
where she lived in some squalor at state expense
but never mind as all's well that ends well
as her staggeringly brutal low-iq daddy would have killed her
for bringing shame on the family escutcheon
and because the downturn in the economy
meant that there was a three month wait for a bed
in the nearest mongo maternity ward
so she just kept on reading and would you believe it
she had reached page seven by the time
it was all over apart from the mess on the upholstery.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 1:59 PM UTC
Lucid dreams of what could have been; another world or time, the difference staggeringly saddening. The time to find the means to an end goes too fast to comprehend it all as it comes. It floods the brain, the mind and heart. Overwhelming circumstance: motivation lost. Exacerbation kills creativity altogether; and the cycle repeats. I’m lost.
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 7:34 AM UTC
collapse the husk of sin with the
lucid dirt caked better and more.
all about your cascade. and bleached
serenity stiffly decaying. a grave calm
in the ******* of untold lovers. to be
cadaverous an apathetic magic.
seems it to me the sky was blue but
cracked melody of ruffled gray
hips sprawled exactly on its
electric lips to tickle precisely the accurate
giggle of rainbow fuzz. hush now delicious
day and break staggeringly on the luscious nightmare.
A lusus naturae said "why not dip the razors in your
purity to slit the rhythmic shudders
of your
vermilion music. but anon hither it doth
come and merry it will slander with the clouds?"
slither correctly it wAS in the ponds of streelight ******
begging white palpations to the weak skin.
but flustered in wickedly; in her still column
of hot ice. i loved only her.
Jul 5, 2010
Jul 5, 2010 at 4:11 PM UTC
He was my greatest escape
My caramel cake
That I craved to eat
My tasty treat
That completed me
My beginning, middle, and end
My enchanting dream guy
That had me treading on air
Cherishing his expansive playground
Of astoundingly marvelous manliness
His staggeringly vigorous splashiness
His sun-kissed allure
He rocked my world
Moved me through the bright skies
Of his masculine love
Making me melt in his embrace
Taking my breath away
He was my alluring breeze
That fulfilled me
My swag king
That shimmered
Like authentic money
Like the lovely sun
That filled me with abundant happiness
Jan 9, 2025
Jan 9, 2025 at 1:00 PM UTC
I'm so attracted to the broken
The struggle, the sorrow
The empathy in me swirls and swells
Reading poems to sadden my soul
Forcing tears to my eyes
Reminding me how to cry
Reminding me it's okay to hurt
Everyone else is hurting too
No one is as happy as they appear
So I suppose, it's really the strength
To be honest about how broken one is
That I find staggeringly attractive
Jun 5, 2019
Jun 5, 2019 at 8:41 PM UTC
shame sentimentally suffices some sacrament: strange secondary seekers safely scout such suffrage so suddenly, shake spurious susceptibility southward so strangers seem superficial; supposing such simple servants survive such sycophantic schools sans shouting, scraping, sifting, straightforward striking; some surmise something sustains, something stinks. see? sure. self-sustainable, sick, staggeringly stupid ****
subtle **** slip sliding southward, stopping such sudden shudderance.
safe, she says?
soon such seas seem superfluous so... success: scream success! shake secondary security, say secrets, sratch surfaces, scrape sentimental sand so shapes shift sooner; similarly scrub seemingly subtle scars, seven seconds, second severance, something so subliminally separate simplifies shifting solace, sacrificing so solemly saturday's superficial stars.
such sweet serendipity.
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 5:50 PM UTC
You spend your life looking for answers you already know.
Your faith in yourself is staggeringly bad.
That must be some kind of curse, to always be right but to never believe.
Do you try to prove yourself wrong? Or prove yourself right?
Too smart for your own good. Too dumb to realize that.
Don't worry no one else believes you either.
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 4:13 PM UTC
The origins of life, an absolute mystery.
Where and why?
All set and carved with ambition.
We could be messengers, preservers
but we are connected to conflict and destruction.
It is so enchanting to act like gods,
a staggeringly ambitious vision.
So many things could be so wrong,
so many unknowns.
What was it all for?
Knowledge?
Power?
Or just to show what was possible?
Ambtion, stubborness
nothing changed.
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 9:00 PM UTC
Emotionals ups and downs
all spin and move in staggeringly transitions,
i'm still breathing.
Every now and then i miss her so much and
i don't know how the day breaks on me.
Every now and then i'm fine,
i'm still breathing.
Someone told me you won't get lost
if you follow the compass in your heart.
I take the wheel, fly up to a silver moon
and land upon the ashes of empty hollow trees.
Products of false imaginations,
shadows of nothing.
I'm still breathing.
Angels and demons fight,
standing in between and
i'm still breathing.
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 3:55 PM UTC