"substitution" poems
I'm head starting the challenging life
12th grade decides my future strife.
Herein lies the mystery of tomorrow
Destiny of the mighty ship in my carefull row.
Not asking for incredible flourishing results
But delivering support for my stupendous work.
Not asking for imaginative unreachable marks
But holding my hands to provide the best of myself.
Not asking to pour elixir for hardwork devoid outcome
But strolling me through the gates of earnestness.
Not asking for your substitution in me
But to confront me with your intrepid grace.
Not asking for grade ten replica
But lending me the same earnest virtue.
Help me ignore the incompatible watchers,
To provide the least hope of comparing
Falling in despair in other's successful fruits.
But to help better and improvise my solitary results
And shelter me in your house of modesty.
No beneficial ranks but the submissive marks
that lends a hair to my cognitive efforts
To grant me light in the death of night.
Let me blossom as tranquily as the sunflower
Yet not vanish in the glory of jubliation
But gradually offer me petals
And extend the reliance day by day.
Mindful and heeding my compatible hardwork
Finally, let me conquer the glamorous colour
Of my utmost individuality.
Rehabilating the small hopes intro pristine reality
Aware of the hunger turning to lime light
To strike a chord for my year before.
Take me on your hands, float me through
legitimate mistakes, rip me apart in the wave
of unquenchable thirst and finally wrap me out as
a champion badge of jaded grade twelve.
Finally,
Bless me God, provide eternal marvels
Bless me God, honour the righteous path
As the testimony of your judicious grace
Bless me God, I'm starting life (grade twelve)
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 2:52 AM UTC
Evolution
(Poem by Serenus)
Many people don’t believe in evolution
But I’m determine to evolve
Then I’ll start a revolution
And get the masses involved
We’ll spread the message like pollution
Love will be our cause
Hate needs a substitution
Or else- nothing will be solved
We will be immune to evil
A sickness that can
Never again take control
No more hatred or animosity
It’s like cancer to the soul
No more violence or war
One day we’ll look back in horror
And wonder, what was it all for?
One day we’ll rise above the fray…
And be disgusted
By the way we behaved…
Racism
Sexism
Slavery
The holocaust
War of religions
Terrorism
Torture…
How could we have been so lost?
As a people
We don’t have a choice
But to evolve
Or else-
As a people…
We will all dissolve.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 12:41 AM UTC
The melody of the strings of life
a substitution for the institution
take my arm, let it reach a far
in creativity and sensitivity
beats bouncing the zombies
from the graves of impotency
created by mundane manipulation
mutilations of the happiness we long
as we capture the tides of everyday
The harmony of the universal love
screaming with a tantalizing mission
a remission from the decay of the society
sugar coated with lengthy dices of lies
then iced with laces of illusionary secretions
tis' me who embrace the skin you wear
as we seek a new phase of revolution
solutions that are delusional and waking
rising through ever dense curved valley
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 1:25 PM UTC
Numerous number systems beyond the real:
complex numbers, octonions, omnions which can eat whole black
holes.
It's axiomatic that your personal history, preferences, how you feel
account for nothing at all.
$30 buys a flock of chickens for a needy family (International Rescue
Committee)
$29 gets a girl a school uniform (CARE), for $300 you can stock a fish
pond (Heifer International)
$69 can start a female entrepreneur in the sewing business (Mercy
Corps)
$5 will buy a bed net that protects a family from mosquitoes (Against
Malaria)
20th century experiments demonstrated that electrical charge is
quantized; that is, it comes in
multiples of individual small units called the elementary charge, e,
approximately equal to 1.602
x 10-19 coulombs (except for particles called quarks which have
charges that are multiples of
1/3e).
Why has the experimentalism of the avant-garde, which has failed in
the novel, succeeded in
poetry? Because poetry is always experimental; while the novel, on
the contrary, by its nature,
cannot be . . . which is to say that experimentalism is synonymous
with poetry, and that applied
to the novel, it leads simply to the substitution of the novel with
poetry. --Alberto Moravia
Man made the town, Fibonacci inflated zero to be the wheel
around which the universe turns and language is the soul
walking and talking quietly or going angrily to war.
"Counting is in its very essence magical, if any human practice is at all.
For numbers are things no one has ever seen or heard or touched."
As are words.
Joan Didion thought the scariest stanza in all of poetry
begins Row, row, row your boat gently
down the stream. The elements, the material penumbra,
irresolvable for the mortal, readily dissolve in words and numbers.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 4:08 PM UTC
its tha return of tha gangsta thanks to ya
too many blacks out here livin' they life in fear
families seeing tears problems tier
blurry visions make it hard to see clear my dear
cant get through the atmosphere
feel me it's the return of the gangsta I'd like to thank ya
Malcolm for giving me the principles and reaching a few people's
opening minds to grinds and you'll find
me chilling on the corner puffing marijuana yep I'm a gonna
in society outlaw outcast put my thoughts on blast
techs is humming cuz I smell war coming armies drumming
po folks crying innocent victims dying
for no apparent reasons caught in daily treasons which gives me a reasons to put an end to Americas sin but too many folks stuck in
a fantAsy called reality in actuality
they plotting our burials G
troops overseas findings empty caves so the government can make saves war profiteers racketeering gangsters hustlers
exposing lies don't be a busta like a Douglass no diamonds in my cutlass couldn't move so I had cut less people out of my circle I'm nerdy as urkel yea my intellect carefully selects
what's real from reality I envision myself as well as my enemies in a fatality so battling me I was made for war built off the backs of my ancestors sore yea white house was built by the slaves for white supremacy kind of irony they sayin' my folks was lazy?
worked up from Sun up to Sun down
I can't believe my folks walking with they heads towards the grounds
how bout we get mad and let off gun sounds pound for pound
you know they can't hang with us
that's why they had to make laws against us
scared of rise and corruptions ain't a surprise through the eyes
of real people who realize pain ain't a substitution for happiness bliss
I guess I was sunkissed
by wisdom mouth open hail Mary entered me and told me
we all family eyes lit no **** no fit nothing
but a glowing brain exemption of fame down goes my name
in the book of life made wisdom my wife
she took my arm she's my charm
as I glance at the souls gunned down on plantations farms gangsta....
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 2:49 PM UTC
My grandmother
has a chair that sits
in the shower-- a tile
throne for loved martyrs,
her hips have disintegrated
as has some emotion,
you say I don't know
sorrow, you say I don't know
sadness
but here I am again, naked in your chair
letting the hot water
bead down my face in
substitution for tears.
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 12:18 AM UTC
Open up, Eyes
I've given you the prize
to see again.
Darkness.
Let me feel you
with my fingertips
Okay good, but dear
doesn't anyone have a light in here?
Darkness
Get up, feel around.
This place seems familiar.
Look up, look down
Figures become linear
Darkness
Click!
There it is.
Man, I should have cleaned the place
Oh, and everything is just where I left it
Great!
Rusty orange, forest green
Common colors that I'm used to seeing.
Look to my left
Bingo!
There's John, Paul, George, and Ringo
Take a step
creak creak creak
Floorboards never cease to make a squeak
Open the door,
what do you see?
So much more
than before
I went to sleep.
Darkness
What's that there?
Medicare?
The UNITED states?
What is this place?
So much for us
coming together.
I wonder
if it had not been better
if I had slept forever?
Darkness
Change is constant.
Diamonds are litter.
The warm and sweet
now cold and bitter.
Streets swarmed with people
wearing collars of blue,
wait a minute..
Our president is black too?
Darkness
Hollowed eyes,
Songs without melody
Selfish men disguised
as hearts with harmony.
Arrogance, ignorance
Obliviousness, incompetence
In this future
I shall only reminisce.
Oh, what did I miss?
Darkness
Slaving like slaves,
working like elves.
This is not what I wished
before 2012.
It's the end of evolution
but lets find a substitution!
Oh won't anyone help me look?
No even a trace?
Not even a sprinkle?
I'm living the life
of Rip Van winkle.
Darkness
Man oh man,
nothing's changed
And i used to think ****** was deranged.
So much for
coming together.
I wonder
if it had not been better
if I had slept forever?
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 9:31 PM UTC
*i find the crow more eloquent,
more treacherously abiding
a fulfilment of aesthetic investigations
when walking, the crow
more beautiful than in flight,
unlike the sparrows' comic grounding,
with its epileptic quick-step twitchy
caoutchouc trot... poetically drawn
as: huh?! huh?! chirp. huh?! huh?! chirp;
really quickly.*
the only way to transition back into
the humanities from learning science,
******** p... chemistry and physics,
from these two into the humanities:
because you wrote a high standard
sociology essay plagiarising trying to
beat the anti-plagiarism logarithm
imposed... and that camus' l'étranger
also written to a 1st in the degree hierarchy...
the only transition from the sciences
to humanities is with philosophy,
which is a qausi-humanism...
mind you... edinburgh is the last gothic city,
and scotland the only place
where university can be like high school,
diverse, equipping you with many choices,
you can major chemistry, but understudy
computing, french, history, sociology, etc.
so in the background you have my favourite
theorisation: friedel-craft's alkylation & acylation /
effects of substitution on the beneze ring properties:
ortho (β) / para (ν) directing goups...
meta (π) directing groups... ipso (α) directed
at dislodging the algebraic x already attached...
i was never going to write cute poetry...
lessons in inductive effects of σ-bonds orientation
controlled by resonate (of) π-bonds...
the faustian myth continues without cute goethe rhyme.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 12:51 PM UTC
When did our society **** the genuine meaning of sorry?
In essence it is a word that should be seldom used and rarely heard.
Yet, we apologize for the most trivial of actions.
Mutations caused by insecurities result in a new purpose.
Now it feels as though it has become a faulty substitution for confidence.
Do not be sorry about character traits and emotions.
Sorry is a desperate word; a last ditch effort.
It requires the complete disregard of ones pride to utter.
"I was wrong and I am sorry."
The times that it is used correctly are memorable.
The look in the eyes of a loved one that screams of remorse.
The acceptance or rejection of the attempt at redemption.
Slowly, sorry has lost its legitimacy among people.
Those who have no other plan of action are met with denial:
all because of the incessant overuse.
I weep at the death of the word.
"Sometimes sorry does not cut it!"
But sometimes, saying sorry is all I know how to do...
...and it is a great starting place for growth.
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 2:06 AM UTC
There’s a noose around our necks to drive out feeling,
To **** the sweetest instincts planted deep within our souls.
It’s too hard to feel, it hurts too much, so **** it –
Replacing it with lust so that we think we are alive
But we have lost it.
I think therefore I am? So said that Greek man.
Someone could likewise reason that “I feel, therefore I am”
It’s a possible conjecture but the suffering incurred
Is overboard , impossible, I cannot cope with that.
I’ll take the substitute.
This lust gives me to think I’m feeling something,
Be it money lust, drink, drugs, or sexuality or things.
Somehow, though my ego escalates, I’m feeling grand,
But my relationships are failing, flawed, I cannot understand –
I’ll take the substitute.
I’m at the bottom of the pit. I’m on the outer.
The substitute has got me. I’m in isolated rink.
It’s living hell. My friends are gone, and everything is bad.
I cannot cope with this. I need some love. There’s none around.
I’ll take the substitute.
I’ll take the substitute.
I’ll take the substitute.
I’ll take the substitute.
This is hell.
God, where are You?
“I’m right here.”
“I took the substitute.”
"I know."
"It's finished me."
"I know."
"Help me."
“Will you take Me now?”
“I sure don’t want the substitute any more.”
“Will you take Me now?”
“Yes.”
“You believe Me now?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe that I love you?”
“Yes”
“Do you understand, I did the substitution for you?”
“On the Cross?”
“That’s it.”
“I believe you.”
“Do you trust Me in all respects?”
“It’s either You or the other substitute?”
“It’s either Me or the other substitute.”
“I’d rather trust You.”
“Come then. I love you.
Walk with Me and I’ll restore your deeply broken heart.
You are My child. Draw ever closer, never to depart.
Revive yourself in Me. My Words will give you back your Life.
I’m your blood brother, at your back when problem scenes are rife.
My Spirit, Truth, empowers you in strife.”
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 10:21 PM UTC
i've learned to love skydiving
because if i close my eyes,
if i tune out the air whipping by,
it feels just like falling in love.
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 6:24 PM UTC
what is more unusual than being dead? he says.
being dying, he responds. being a ghost.
and what do ghosts do? they haunt.
who do they haunt? other dead people?
the living. the remains. the corpses.
other ghosts?
there are no other ghosts.
what is more unusual than a blade? he asks.
being stabbed, he responds. blood.
is that not a sign of being alive?
not always. not when it's you.
what am i?
well isn't that the question.
what do i do?
you haunt. you save.
so i'm fate?
if you want. you have one, that's for sure.
i have a fate?
it's a cheap substitution for free will.
what is more unusual than free will? he begs.
nothing, he responds. nothing at all.
Apr 25, 2022
Apr 25, 2022 at 11:30 AM UTC
Tilt and tumble down the slide.
Why not go two at a time?
Link your tubes! Enjoy the ride!
Run and jump into the pool.
Dive head first! You're so cool.
Safety is a stupid rule,
So why must you abide?
Say you don't know how to swim?
That's all right, jump on in!
That's the best way to begin.
Floaties are the best solution--
Swimming's equal substitution.
But hey, you drowning helps our evolution!
Too bad I'm your guardian.
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 9:37 PM UTC
Everyone deserves a second chance.
It's only good luck that we had the first.
The quality of mercy is not strained but generous.
Substitution is realizing it could be you.
That we give of ourselves is our only saving grace.
Forgiveness is a responsibility.
It's not for your sake.
The world is what you make, but it's not for you.
The judgment we put on our friends stays with us, sticks to us, for all our days, it follows us through our lives, and it makes us who we are.
We make ourselves by who we love.
Forget and forgive and let all be done with.
It's a glorious thing to live and to let live.
Where there is anger, there's always a better way.
I'd rather be happy than right anyways.
This was the year to lose all of my friends.
Another person is not a means to my ends.
This isn't worth another moment of pain.
Maybe I like it. Maybe I'm wired that way.
*Once I've realized that fighting is never fair
I can't look away and pretend that I don't care*
Feb 11, 2011
Feb 11, 2011 at 12:50 AM UTC
Unforgettable bones
Have been buried
The emptiness
Mutates
Fading fingertips
Break
Expanding wounds
Ache
And Innocence
Is replaced
By a
Monster
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 5:41 PM UTC
I grew up in your tattoos.
the gentle curves of dark blue lines held me as a child. now sometimes when i can’t remember your face i color in between those lines and let the rest of it fill in. the rose on your shoulder. the fallen angel on your ankle. the heart on your hip, the cherubs on your back, ever since i was little i wanted to be that permanent.
when i got older my fingers started to itch for something to hold onto in your absence. i tried to tattoo myself but red isn’t permanent and scars fade you said, ‘wait’. and since then i have never been so impatient. i tried scratching at my own skin but found i wasn’t cut out for art so i took to using the pen instead, scrawling hundreds of over used words and when they wouldn’t flow i used red again, unable to decide on what sorts of lines i want to replace you with. i’ve taken to writing on my wrists and found a substitution for scarred skin i think i have decided. this is the tattoo that i’m going to get:
See you in Hell, scribe.
Well, I thought. Probably.
But not today.
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 8:14 PM UTC
I’ve taken a lover
and awoke 300 years
in the inner chamber,
some thirteen stories
above grinding asphalt.
in that inner chamber,
echoed a pan flute
as i walked home.
and glided
out of the tunnel once more
those seventeen or so notes,
a mystery to me
or at least the “me”
that awoke as something new.
I slept sgain.
to wake again in this land,
mirror to my native one,
in some strange reversal of migration,
somehow new to old,
and in this daylight hour i woke again,
in a bed not his, nor mine.
and now I know those seventeen notes,
their mystery now gone,
scribbled on a note and sent to him,
transatlantic,
enveloped,
enveloping,
maybe not all-encompassing,
this journey will have been merely a crutch,
a movement, or gesture,
as natural as a waving hand from a train car.
this place shall be an effigy,
a substitution.
Apr 27, 2011
Apr 27, 2011 at 6:05 AM UTC
Tulad sa Malayang Taludturan
walang patakaran ang tunay
na pagsinta, walang sukat at
madalas wala rin itong tugma.
Walang protocol sa pag-ibig,
walang arrival at departure ceremony,
hindi rin kailangan na maglatag ng Red
Carpet o kaya ay patunogin ang mga trumpeta.
Kumbaga sa Mortal Combat
no-holds-bar ang tunay na pag-ibig;
walang-awatan, walang time out,
lahat pweding gamitin. Titigil lang
ang labanan kapag sumuko na ang isa.
Walang rules sa tunay na pag-ibig
kasi hindi tulad ng basketball na may foul
at substitution. Ang totoong nagmamahal
tinatanggap ang mabuti't masama sa kanyang
minamahal.
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 8:41 PM UTC
When the memories of your half bloomed love
Shake me from the ribcage out,
I comfort myself with the thought
That there was never really an us at all.
(It must have just been my own narcissism-
What a greedy ***** I was, asking you to love me)
But when this conclusion is less than palatable
And fails to satisfy my heart-hungry belly –
As it always does, it always fails-
I leave the soft haven of my own bed sheets
And venture out onto cold concrete and asphalt.
….
There I become small and carnivorous
Like some half starved rodent or gorging reptile.
I salivate at the scent of even common affection.
….
My heart,
Ravenous and infinitesimal,
Will find another to take your place.
And these others- this golems of a men, these interlopers in our warped affections-
Are easily devoured through hands and mouth and ****
….
The walls of the hollow space where an ‘us’ was purported to dwell
Churn and roil uncomfortably with pangs.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 5:27 PM UTC
I wish to study every point on your surface area
Let me rationally master your geometry
You prove your own stated theorems
And I love you like the salt loves the sea.
Our equation has no solution
No particular angle of elevation
Lost in all those likely probabilities
Your place in my heart has no substitution.
Your graph work and figures make no sense
Before the volume of love in my heart
You are as confusing as Algebra can get
And I tried ever so hard.
Your imaginary roots and relations,
Beautifully intersecting truth and lies
Your complex imperfections I adore
Pain from within fills my eyes.
I must admit that I never understood why
We were never collinear or side by side
The distance between you and me is parallel
I know, but I don't know why.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
Let's make some time.
Time for you and I to leap past
Anything other than transcendent.
A vacation other than what we see day in and day out.
To lick our lips in awe.
Awe of how many times we've passed each other.
Never thinking the sun to shine as beautiful as it has against your eye.
Our lips water in infatuation.
A substitution to the emptiness we walk pass on a daily basis.
Stepping outside of the ordinary.
A fluid motion
Laughing at random moments.
The thing's kept in our heads brought to life in a smile.
Status quo of moving pass sitting still.
Seeing you with new eyes,
Shapes & colors.
An intersection of skin travelled by happy eyes.
Open, full.
The sensation of going somewhere new.
The butterflies no longer sit at the stop sign.
Checking both ways before pulling out.
Moving beyond the end of the street
Without the feeling that something is missing.
When you get the chance,
Let's make some time for you and I.
With no intent on arriving,
Whatever destination we set.
Let's make time just to make time
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 6:06 PM UTC
forget not words, body
thy soul is
and
hair fantastically ; more unsquare
than an angle
measurable. Not
A
number
,
a
S
H
a
pE divisble
or an exact
adding of some subtracted
arithmetical wholeless
singular substitution. (your
mouth
is
a
quiet
groove
of
darkest
earth
)where
innumerably
grows
the
destroying colour
of infinite flower
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC
Perfection of my bad habits/
headed to Budapest seeking Buddha/
the root of all evil had it/
bared fruit which is truth/
prequel to the madness/
time could only tell
so I'm killing it on tales end/
new urban legends substitution time just flew bye/
plane to see tail spin
nose dive flat crashing
I need coffee to survive/
know limit is the sky
I'm under the weather cloudless grounded temperature on the rise/
I could bite my tongue
So I speak with my eyes/
blink you may miss it like a mistress/
spending all yours with your wife/
life is a drug addicted/
I need a second opinion/
doctor told me death is all that can be prescribed/
what a gamble if I lose shambles all in or diversify/
Spirits in the air impaired perceptions unclear/
All these bad habits
I'm ill prepared/
Circle of life where do we go from here/
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 10:28 AM UTC