"succinct" poems
the mind is its own beautiful prisoner.
Mind looked long at the sticky moon
opening in dusk her new wings
then decently hanged himself,one afternoon.
The last thing he saw was you
naked amid unnaked things,
your flesh,a succinct wandlike animal,
a little strolling with the futile purr
of blood;your *** squeaked like a billiard-cue
chalking itself,as not to make an error,
with twists spontaneously methodical.
He suddenly tasted worms windows and roses
he laughed,and closed his eyes as a girl closes
her left hand upon a mirror.
45k
a birthday poem for S.
perhaps, this is the responsibility, the purposeful gentility,
that poetry engenders, that thwarts the impulse to anger,
guiding away, finding a way, to temper the temper, to out
and joust away our basest, our first, but never our foremost
nor finest, succinct instinct, yet terrible human nonetheless...
perhaps, this is where we hide, neath our carnival masque,
our-would-be better selves, and struggle in this, this intensity intentional,
the season's change is subtly blatant, not obvious 'cept to those
who have a front seat, a well worn Adirondack chair in the nook
where the airy breeze offers fruits of words so easy, pluck words
as easy as breathing, and the slight gradation change, in the light and
temperature, and yet, the suns cares not, for it still warms my body,
though lower and slower, nonetheless, when the heat invades my soul, confirming my, our, existence,
burning off the fog of our contradictory confusions,
and eliciting an unsolicited
"thank you god"
for my, our personal miracle of re~birthing
and better comprehending,
that other
miracle we can embrace
never enough
loving kindness
sun~mon
sep 14~15
twenty twenty five
Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 8:33 AM UTC
[From Fragments, The Following...]
... so it was that the Urth bled less. The Birch Moot was becalmed by the Anvil Cloud of Impending Deluge.
The Young Gods made sport of Their Names, and aimed to Oblique the colony of clever flesh
groping at the tender roots of an insipid devastation. The First Ones had vanished.
But Time was born and the Mortal Whirl released the Hounds of Change. Transition fused -
with the Eternal; and the offspring of unloved Spirits, roamed the Tangible. All Suffering was amplified
in the diamond lungs of a divine corpse, dreaming.
... for when the iron heart of The Cast Out was retrieved, the Legion of Heaven poured unseemly Grace upon the Fathoms
and the High King of Doubt, forced his blade ' Nimue '
into the soft palette, of the First Mouth. The Stars were born and The Void overheard the First Naming.
A solid drizzle of enchantment cloaked the oaken Yggdrasil
and The Pattern unleashed the folly of Pattern
to mask the virtue of succinct Chaos. The Children of The Lower Sky ate their Masters and thereby swollen -
gathered in the underbrush of the Fecund.
They came to Know Regret by Answering Prayers. The Kingdoms of Wane were waning in the fearsome riot of Creation
and not a boy, a man from no woman
and no woman
a man.
... the siege lights of the petty stars, babbled in the wake of yawning eruption and nullification. the ****** theater of blood
was made Holy by way of forcing camels into eyes of needles in constant dystopian joy.
... and that's how the rain gets in.
[ From the ' Kingdoms Of Wane ', a Lost Tome from Antiquity and Dada ]
What ?
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 7:07 PM UTC
I think about the face of a woman
and her smooth skin
soft lips
the curvature of the Earth is kin to her hips
I feel humanity suffering needlessly
beneath her cells
as I wander her valleys and sand-dune hills
she is the beach
the ocean
the calling of many gulls screaming for food and
I love her white *******
But she is sneaky
and cares for me
caressing is painful
I see it in my own eyes the next day
when the smudgy bruises flit across my reflection
But men understand
without either of us speaking a **** word
we drive
we shout
we catcall
we game
the music takes us and we run for days
doing nothing
anything
and i guess sometimes we ****
Succinct and supernatural
Brawn or brown skin or bright ideas gone awry
always a good day with the gang or the bros
I feel safer in the hoods
I want her to notice me, and to shyly skip over like she did last week
i want to kiss her neck and pull back
soon enough to catch her half-lidded gaze into the abyss behind me
I want to wear boxers and treat her to fancy dinners
But
I want to be her
I want taste a mustache
I want to be lifted overhead like a little sister
and brought back to the earth with sweet
exploration
Impossibility
I want women and men to be the same thing
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
~
*Lost inside a labyrinth
Tight-lipped tinkerer
open-mouthed cynosure
Pressing matters completing their circuit
all things said, but not spoken
Osculated locution, succinct phrasing
released, but not heard
The human element imparting
seminal spark
—together felt and touched
A tingling syntax
owing to its art
becoming its nucleus*
~
Jun 3, 2021
Jun 3, 2021 at 4:10 PM UTC
I'm trending love.
I'm trending hate.
I'm trending the fact that you always reply a little too late.
I'm telling you that you are less than enough.
And when you **** me, its a little too rough.
Pounding away like you're shooting a gun.
All too soon.
I never come.
Too pretty to make you feel let down.
Fake it always, you're the shittest rodeo clown.
Take off your ****** face.
Eat me wide, go on, give me a taste.
Sink your teeth into my bare flesh,
feel my history in my blood
seek me out in all my mess.
I am showing you darling
in my very sweet tones
that my succinct naivety is nothing more,
than what you want from your white ash bones.
I am trending you
I am trending your ****
I am trending the look you wear
and the music you rock.
I am seeking a feeling more than text, a wink or smiley face.
Look, At, ME.
Am i that easy to replace?
Bitterness is found in the sweetest pill
i'll bend your *** i'll bend you over,
I'll **** you at will.
I will move my trend towards your neck
outpour my lack of interest in your ear,
tell you what it is you want to hear.
**** you, and **** your nation.
**** your distinctive'taste',
and your senseless judgement and interrogation.
I am not some sweet-ass-fuck-drive-by-shooter-girl,
I have ******* brains,
I am seconds away from tearing apart your world.
I am living safely from behind my defensive line of white hair,
**** that **** i don't want closeness
rip my clothes off, don't leave till i'm wanton and bare.
Oh and i am trending your messages
I am trending all of you.
I am not trending depression, ****** up or feeling blue.
I am trending love, trending the great divide.
I made it through and over, to the other side.
I am not what you will ever believe me to be
a glimmer, of a hint, in a riddle, is all you will see.
I am trending what is insane, and what is not,
I am thinking, your thinking of,
'what the **** has this girl got?'
I am not here to make you laugh, or for you to wish for more,
I am here to be left broken and wet,
on your kitchen floor.
I am trending honest, i am trending passion and life,
I am trending a big fat ****** smile,
Because I am not your possession or your future wife.
I am not trending your **** size, or your 16 positions in one night,
I don't want you to cry on my shoulder
I am not trending 'your mother', i have earnt that right.
Look, At. ME.
Second chances rarely come as few
and when i walk away, i will walk away with a taste of you.
I am sweetness, i am luxury divine,
make me bite you, scratch your back, forget the time.
But at my cost, at my control, this will be,
you are not my attachment,
my soul is not your key.
I am trending love, i am trending ME
for what is locked within, is never for free.
****
Me.
What a trend
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 5:50 PM UTC
potion lost by unknown souls
effervescent masturbatory master debater
creationism is masochism told from the horses ***
past blast take my soul
make me whole and complete
separation anxiety is ***** envy
memories of mental memos crash past rushing fools
used and abused on cruise control
I misjudged your guided thistle
because missiles are meant for drones not home-oh
listen to the seedless man cry for his dead *****
tediously miserable always unforgiven
what lies hidden within the door
could be a deserted desert dessert
like an after dinner breath mint
or a succinct lunatic on the brink of such destruction
may be distraction fight or flight action reaction
marilyn charles though more bronson than you
Aren’t thou marked for death
broken gasp choked sob
undergod slaughtered in an abandoned euthanasia clinic
euphimistic innuendo more like in your endo
indoor marijuana smoke makes the colors run
my american flag has flown and fled
please jesus save our country bumpkins
napkins go in the lap not as hat
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 3:49 PM UTC
grade my writings in magenta,
no red arrogance for me teach,
blue note jazz margin comments,
unacceptable marginalizing pithy succinct notes,
always cute, hard hitting,
even in day to day black or Bic blue,
refused!
give me ochre, amethyst,
give me the colors of a new born morn,
give me words of encouragement
next to that nicely writ,
without a self-serving
high faluting exclamation point,
astride my D, my F,
a polite professorial funk you
in azure gold
leave me,
write me in colors of hope,
even claptrap deserves
a nice funeral
because gentle teach,
this thought I preach,
what color would you like me
to grade your students in,
your writs,
when next I look
twenty years from now?
will you not leave
me,
be,
in
the color of better days
enthused?
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 3:56 AM UTC
Edifice erections surreal mistic heights
Wayward excursions and catenary's bight
Communal collusions of harmonies site
Ethereal subsistence on exsertion's light
Lingam and yoni are indefatigably tight
Exponential overload was communities plight
Semantic regalia is myriad temptation
Finite being a mutual oblation
Vicarious recalcitrance an obeisant sensation
Conception's vastness like incalculable equation
Ephemeral effulgence is indomitable pervasion
Treacherous traverse and eternal occasion
Succinct salience is symbiotic allegory
Fecundity's verve a transcendent promontory
Imperative ascension the conjunctive's divinatory
Audacity's exigence and fertility's invocatory
Erotica's erectile like mentality's trajectory
Futurity's fatidic and inherent delusory
**** it fell right over like categorical imperative's contradictory
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 12:32 PM UTC
People communicate too much.
Their arms, their feet, their eyes, their hands.
Each one tells a story.
Each one differs, interfering and weighing the air down.
Then the mouth opens and words fly out,
A whirlwind of ideas, opinions, tumbling, spinning, whipping out.
So much noise.
A message here, a message there.
The noise is blinding.
Outside the garden is buzzing.
Not the droning buzz of conversation,
But the peaceful hum and sigh of nature.
The leaves wave as you walk.
Flower petals whisper to you, succinct words that don't rattle.
Ladybirds, bumblebees, humming birds hurtle and whisk around,
And best of all, the garden listens.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 1:32 AM UTC
Aretha Louise Franklin
Labeled "The Queen Of Soul"
She was expressive in her music
There was a story waiting to be told
Her voice was fierce and powerful
The sound was succinct and sharp
She was one to open up your mind
And give light to those stuck in the dark
Uplifting and exhilarating
Willing to enhance one's vision
Embracing love, life, freedom, and happiness
And carrying out her mission
When in a state of sorrow and pain
She still found a way to persevere
Her inner strength was profound
The messages in her songs were clear
At the age of 76
She has sadly passed on
The legacy of Aretha Franklin
Will continue to be heartstrong
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 4:04 PM UTC
Grandiose and lofty it may seem
Nevertheless it’s a thought that captures
A dream I consider supreme
It triggers a spontaneous feeling of rapture
Whenever it crosses my mind.
It’s that a lawless society is an empowered society
The premise being that life is kind
Lending credence to society imposed piety.
As succinct as it is,
It sums up my simple idiosyncrasy as me
It’ll be a paradigm shift that’ll put my mind at ease
And fill my heart with glee.
The existing realities are grim
Stupefying for lack of a better word.
Andy Bryn.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 2:00 AM UTC
there are times
when the meaning
of a word
is asked
one that
has been read
and regurgitated
used regularly
correctly adopted
as part of
an apparent
well-read
or pretentious
vocabulary
however upon
being asked
its meaning
there is only
a blank
vacuous
addled
unable to provide
a succinct
or even literate
definition
to save face
to re-establish
the hubris
of this
abashed lexicologist
analogous alternatives
will be offered
oversimplified
synonyms
carrying a little
less gravitas
a layman's explanation
to maintain
position on his
self-congratulatory
podium
Oct 13, 2022
Oct 13, 2022 at 11:42 AM UTC
From the visions of sparrow vanguards
that fly insatiably onward.
From the tombs of ancient hearts draped
in flowing, moth-eaten fabric.
From the fighter jets stalling somewhere
above solitary and succinct farmlands.
From the bottom of a broken purple
sunset that lies embossed on my brain.
From the silliest half-thought left
unvoiced in the vagrant light of a damp
and desolate lamp lying in a landfill.
From several mouths at once.
From oracles cross-legged in caves.
From the gills of a catfish on a hook.
From mythical forgeries and the perjurer's tongue.
To the subdued hope resting in a
trembling hand gripped round its pen.
To satisfaction that is oneness that
seems to never arrive but is there
all along.
To the peaks of the Himalayas.
To my spidered desk light, shallow with doubt.
To my flustered and torrential page.
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 9:39 PM UTC
It’s funny how
The universities are still in business
Of producing graduates
That speak funny English
And hardly make invention
And the stock market falls
Down street tumbles
That lets people buy
And make profit
Like grandpa used to say,
True intellectualism died
In the year 1929
With the rise in acumen inflation
It was then that
This Federal Reserve of Ignorance
The true villain of this quandary
Traces its genesis
Hope that explains succinct
This universal impotence
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 9:17 AM UTC
Learning the mystery
May be a feat
Reminiscent of pulling teeth
It can be time consuming
But never in vain
Because if you can ever be trusted
To understand without judgement
The reward can be so sweet
usually more than the average can handle
From passion, compassion and loyalty
We are indeed valuable companions
Definitely worth the effort and patience
Because we don't offer information
And even when you ask
Initially trying to get to know us
Our answer will accomplish
Only half the task
Because growing up we learned what not to say
Definitely the hard way
Exposing our interior and
Shedding our hard exoskeleton
Is a thought beyond terrifying
And a task that is quite daunting
Revealing a membrane underneath
As intrinsic and complex
As it is delicate and fragile
Attempts to damage or injure
Can prove beyond fatal
For the venom used against you
Is comprised of fermented resentment
From the cumulative pain you've inflicted
used with lethal precision on
Your insecurities, pain, and pride
drawn from Information that you provide
The easiest way to avoid heinous defeat
Is via honesty, loyalty and
Through the words and promises you keep
Most chose not to heed a warning so distinct
And are horrified
When the revenge exacted is so succinct
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC
Let it burn
Tear it up; you wrote it wrong.
It doesn’t sound poetic and it’s no song.
You couldn’t make it sound so succinct,
So tear it up and light it and throw it in the bin.
Tear it up and let it burn.
Burn, burn, burn;
Burn, burn, burn.
Tear it up and let it burn.
Burn, burn, burn;
Burn, burn, burn.
Write from the soul to make them feel it;
Don’t write a song so pathetically ****
Make me feel like you really mean it;
Use whatever words are necessary to make it hit.
Or let it burn away like a star;
You used to dream of being something more than you are.
But now you don’t dream at all, because life has let you down;
You are becoming empty, inside now.
Tear it up and let it burn.
Burn, burn, burn;
Burn, burn, burn.
Tear it up and let it burn.
Burn, burn, burn;
Burn, burn, burn.
Feed the fire with your thoughts and feelings,
Burn them away by writing them down.
Sing a song to keep yourself believing,
Or do you believe there’s nothing left of you now?
Find a new song in the recesses of your mind
And let it out to lighten up the world.
Let it burn like a supernova in the sky;
Or throw your thoughts away into the fire and let it burn.
Tear it up and let it burn.
Burn, burn, burn;
Burn, burn, burn.
Tear it up and let it burn.
Burn, burn, burn;
Burn, burn, burn.
(C)2015 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 1:21 PM UTC
this silence of love is flawless
no interfering words necessary deemed,
sound without sound, no entry crack visible,
a great plain, a continental ocean, no horizon given,
this then the perfect diamond of humankind,
the glance cross a room, the grazing ********* upon a cheek,
the succinct serenity of perfect, this I grant you
Feb 6, 2020
Feb 6, 2020 at 6:48 AM UTC
like a poem
that needs no melodies
or accompanying beats
but is best,simplest
like a poem
that’s succinct, small
encompassing little,yet,
leaving thoughts,abysmal
like a poem
that lingers long
till each word of it
pours out completely
You,
like a poem.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 2:45 AM UTC
Lest!
Passions! Exist,
desist not let
thresholds of passions.
Vikings yet…
Kings regard King Arthur,
snow white snow flakes glisten,
“winter, the snow-cold thaw”
Spring chime of Big Ben!
succinct debonair benevolence.
Pedantic pedagogue
of impudence of More Thomas!
passions of Love, unity, solidarity.
a blend of humane, man, men.
Mortals!
Behold!
Love,
Love,
Love,
Love!
Muhumuza Kenneth Ezra
May 25, 2010
May 25, 2010 at 3:48 AM UTC
Wake up it’s a beautiful morning,
like the infinity of a closed chain;
lists keep growing, brain-freeze again.
As long as there’s tomorrow, not today.
Succinct intentions imprinted by a hoot;
how can a sub-conscious refuge,
de-commission the projected truth?
A 24-hour religion, is that all it is?
So which way is it to be tomtom?
Intrepidation never failing,
or honour ‘the’ grand unveiling?
Side-step: back to back-warming Oracle.
Pride appoints a distilling of hidden stature;
forget the dentistry of a mounted gift,
sensitivity not deserving an emotional spendthrift.
No mentions of a game, but you have to play.
Rationalising the intensity of late;
surely that’s an impossibility of squirming feet?
Solution follows a tryst of the elite,
subjects must therefore be; for it to make sense.
Periodic patterns of revolving chrome-vanadium,
lends itself nicely to discontentment
and occasionally promotes relinquishment;
summer sun; does it matter?
Survival make-up – check.
Abrupt journey’s end; in your face.
An odyssey not started yet, offers no grace.
Relax, the God’s haven’t even begun their terror.
The bottom of a barely coping universe it might just be;
Curious are the similarities to sinking sand.
Submerge as you extend your hand?
Or do I just simply do nothing, and nothing happens?
Rat-out the analytical introspection monster;
For when you can see your own reflection in a black-hole;
A bonus penalty shot at life’s ultimate goal;
Then a neutered Neutron star is a good thing to be.
Mar 19, 2010
Mar 19, 2010 at 3:38 PM UTC
Iamb, iamb, iamb, I plod along
in verse predicting I could write a song.
To call upon the muse of higher power
pour some wine, kick off your shoes and glower.
While putting best foot forward, don't forget:
cliches are lines that surely **** your wit.
Reality, you say, bears greener grass?
Abstraction always steps across as crass.
It's true you could walk on like this for days.
Your meter's tight, it rarely ever strays.
But what of clever feet and sounds succinct?
If images are dull, your verse will stink,
As blossoms dance upon the redbud tree
and oceans fill your squid with ink of glee,
remember what your mama always said:
mixed metaphors fill readership with dread!
Say: sonics surely sock a swelling swale,
Entwined, the twisted tongues tell not your tale.
Less is always more, the teachers say.
If tricks you train, then please just walk away!
I never knew how hard it really was
to write a poem that might parade a buzz.
I thank you moderators and big brass
for sticking yours so fully up my ***
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 9:04 PM UTC
Edifice erections surreal mistic heights
Wayward excursions and catenary's bight
Communal collusions of harmonies site
Ethereal subsistence on exsertion's light
Lingam and yoni are indefatigably tight
Exponential overload was communities plight
Semantic regalia is myriad temptation
Finite being a mutual oblation
Vicarious recalcitrance an obeisant sensation
Conception's vastness like incalculable equation
Ephemeral effulgence is indomitable pervasion
Treacherous traverse and eternal occasion
Succinct salience is symbiotic allegory
Fecundity's verve a transcendent promontory
Imperative ascension the conjunctive's divinatory
Audacity's exigence and fertility's invocatory
Erotica's erectile like mentality's trajectory
Futurity's fatidic and inherent delusory
**** it fell right over like categorical imperative's contradictory
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 5:56 PM UTC
shock and awe, shown the light, shown the door,
by the literary muses, kings and queens,
and the royal cooks, of course,
all rouse me at 4:00 am,
to salute those who can cook,
knowing how to summer simmer a simple broth of love
with richest, tasty, succinct, succulent brevity
that
keeps this wordy would be poet,
honest
all the varied spices,
artful adjectives, verbose verbs, numbing, never-heard-of nouns
are humbled in joy, all join this poet,
to honor the
curried simplicity
of
the Bengali cook of love
from India
who says it reverently,
all
in
one
simple sentence,
sourced locally
love is his staple,
love is rice
~
5/31/17
4:10am
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 5:40 AM UTC