"surmise" poems
ladies and gentlemen this little girl
with the good teeth and small important *******
(is it the Frolic or the Century whirl?
ones memory indignantly protests)
this little dancer with the tightened eyes
crisp ogling shoulders and the ripe quite too
large lips always clenched faintly,wishes you
with all her fragile might to not surmise
she dreamed one afternoon
….or maybe read?
of time a when the beautiful most of her
(this here and This, do you get me?)
will maybe dance and maybe sing and be
absitively posolutely dead,
like Coney Island in winter
15k
Somehow your heart enzymes inveigled a way into my system
I surmise it was your energising tongue which smuggled them in
my pseudoanaphylactic longing to snuggle in vein against your protein
its aim a happy interaction tugged by frenzied polypeptide chains
when your petite triglycerides coil avidly around my pH changes
hydrolysis replenishes steroids to stop any pleasure level plunge
so that functional-group transfers may intervene at all active sites
supervising where coenzymes await love's coursing stem cell sights
that photosynthesise my eyes to sensitise to you despite the dark
dancing in all my living cells with infectious smiles an epidemic
when your DNA can't polymerase enough of the audacious lipids
pleasing as they kiss the density away of fatty acids on soft lips
that release protease inhibitors in ways not too selective
so our hearts find their metabolic pathway audaciously live
and offer themselves completely to a frolic in love reactive
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 12:06 PM UTC
And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:
“Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”
And he replied:
“Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”
So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night.
And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.
So heart be still:
What need our little life
Our human life to know,
If God hath comprehension?
In all the dizzy strife
Of things both high and low,
God hideth His intention.
God knows. His will
Is best. The stretch of years
Which wind ahead, so dim
To our imperfect vision,
Are clear to God. Our fears
Are premature; In Him,
All time hath full provision.
Then rest: until
God moves to lift the veil
From our impatient eyes,
When, as the sweeter features
Of Life’s stern face we hail,
Fair beyond all surmise
God’s thought around His creatures
Our mind shall fill.
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 7:33 AM UTC
Ye won't comprehend what I mean
Unless acquire the eyes to have seen
Emotions by their true image
Do you know what I mean?
Once harnessed power to play with emotions
Impossible seems revival, work no potions
When crawl back half alive
Anaesthetised images, walking drunk motions
That deep sorrow, sadness and pain
The efforts and struggles all in vain
Isn't what you cry for and say?
Ask thyself,
Who drove you into that lane
Pitch dark corners of thoughts arouse the feel
Four stanzas including this one's just half meal
Clouds of this kind circle forever
Pressing the haunting words, in time I'll heal
--------
<***>
Presence of happiness none sees, a pity
As we surmise, there does exist a Deity
For a reason, all this emerged
In everything, there might be something pretty
<*>
Once gripped that strange feel in the prayers
Shall form over body, invisible protective layers
Addition in tons, not kilos
Of sagacity, on each climb of the stairs
<>
Life devoid of expectations isn't the option
The mindset's worthy enough for adoption
Great expectations pave dirtiest of roads
Too precious to be displayed up for auction
<**>
On Him can we lean and must firmly believe
Direct contact's the medicine for mind's relief
Affordable yet unaffordable jewels await
For the closest beings in His regard to receive
F.A teeri
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 2:32 PM UTC
Someone recently
asked me
what do I
think about
modern dating?
I responded by
saying we live
in a culture mired
in instant gratification,
i call modern dating
fast food dating
high volume dating
low nutrition dating
We constantly consume
But are forever
more
and
more lonely,
we do not spend
the time to build
value in our own
soul,
love in our hearts ,
so we come to a
relationship taking
and taking and taking
instead of giving.
Fundamentally
selfishness is the
massacre of
all relationship,
and our culture
specializing in crowning
self ruler of all.
And selfishly
we surmise that
We are all
Kings
and
Queens
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 5:50 AM UTC
299
Your Riches—taught me—Poverty.
Myself—a Millionaire
In little Wealths, as Girls could boast
Till broad as Buenos Ayre—
You drifted your Dominions—
A Different Peru—
And I esteemed All Poverty
For Life’s Estate with you—
Of Mines, I little know—myself—
But just the names, of Gems—
The Colors of the Commonest—
And scarce of Diadems—
So much, that did I meet the Queen—
Her Glory I should know—
But this, must be a different Wealth—
To miss it—beggars so—
I’m sure ’tis India—all Day—
To those who look on You—
Without a stint—without a blame,
Might I—but be the Jew—
I’m sure it is Golconda—
Beyond my power to deem—
To have a smile for Mine—each Day,
How better, than a Gem!
At least, it solaces to know
That there exists—a Gold—
Altho’ I prove it, just in time
Its distance—to behold—
Its far—far Treasure to surmise—
And estimate the Pearl—
That slipped my simple fingers through—
While just a Girl at School.
5.2k
He struggles and ponders,
reads and re-reads,
My markers fail before his eyes,
his naivety takes over,
A fruit? he queries,
I burst out in laughter,
Can be, I agree, but I await for more,
he peruses and my ribs tickled,
amused and curious, I stayed,
at his innocence that shined.
A Mango! he exclaims!
No! I equally enthused
'A woman, a fruit,
delicious and mystical,
for a man who craves'.
'Oh' the meek sigh, a tiny sound,
concurred or dissent, I know not,
In a flash came a verbal rebuff,
back to his annoying self.
He annoys and appeases,
A friend I have known for years,
Mine forever, I know for sure,
no matter what he says.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 5:50 AM UTC
Toking on a cloud with ******* Jesus and his family
Lame folks ask me how,
its cause I ******* smoke
religiously
No God I smoke religious tree,
I get ****** in the name of heresy
You angry penguin ****** preach acceptance
So praise the Lord and ******* shame on me
My guise is Satan *****
and my swag is undisguisible
heartless and no conscience,
sicksicksix most recognizable
-that statement may surprise a little but since we all surmise a little
Why deny me as the devil when
When I clearly play a golden fiddle. . .
From Hell I made a deal
and there is no repeal
nothing you see is real,
I will invade and pervade your mind
So wait in anticipation,
life's a figment of your own imagination
I'll watch you dissipate into oblivion
Pound for pound,
I'm a cenobite at heart,
I just haven't a heart to be found
It's not hard for me
its profound,
the sound of suffering
your soul is ours now
and I will tear it apart
Here's a toast to our orchestral
Symphony of the flesh
My swag's so ******* flawless
100 carrot diamonds,
******* love me cause I'm gorgeous
can't stag no more, fat stacks galore
embrace the force it opens doors
Is there a source, but of course -
it just lies dormant/
What's a ***** to a floor except a doormat
And you know that I'm no diplomat
It's just a fact I ******* hate those stinky ratchets
And I sharply lack tact
tell that ***** her ***** smells like Magikarp
Body language, that of Snorlax
someone once asked
why don't have an open mind
brains would spill out
if my ******* snapback
weren't so tight
Its the season to seize C's
and hallucinations be dazzlin em
don't believe your eyes son,
its only a phantasm but
Words are like playdough,
fun to play with not to eat
So clap your ******* trap and get lost to the beat
I can't be defeat
So suckle my teet
My verses are perverse
I'm high as **** words: failing
Get low
ill as **** so ******* sick,
blowed half past belligerent,
tweaking off my nasal drips,
There's serenity in debauchery -
***** I ******* bask in it
have a taste
basketcase,
I drink red bull it gives me ******* wings
"Memento quod sumus lascivio venatus"
Remember that you are playing the Game
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
What's your take on walking?
My body serves my soul
and tells me how to go.
My heart, affixed -- aims to show.
These ways I’ve walked in my shoes and stockings.
I've looked to heaven’s stars, to daylit clouds,
when I've stepped out, or dropped my gaze
to track the ground.
Yes, it is true—whoever passed me by
could have taken offense and supposed
I lacked my confidence.
And ofttimes, I strode out straight and true
as if toward a far mist horizon.
Un-manifest future,
even peek-a-boo,
could be comprehended?
I should doubt it.
And if I wished to address an occasional
in-the-dumps, lost-at-sea feeling,
I'd shut my eyes, and walk backwards --
owl-like, swivel 360 my head.
Backwards blind circumspection seemed worthy my try;
Ask--Who am I?
I would story where I’d been.
In my most spontaneous of nature foot-trafficking,
in roulette walk; my spin of gun chamber click--
ant, spider, beetle, and the occasional sighing snail
had fled my shadow shoe?
As slow drift clouds in a sky game would play
with the sun to hide—creatures had sought me out,
sung their farewells? (it was an excellent day to die)
Let me tell it, as it had happened today,
and truth says how.
My feet, they had gotten to waltz-walking.
O how my body and soul
danced a-fancy free.
Love was brimming out of me; happiness
whispered her wordless name; and
my tongue tripped nonsensical.
So if, at last, you've kept a-pace with me
in sympathetic striding, then perhaps
you would surmise:
there never could be a flat-footed me,
when I spout off with poem-talking.
Now, what’s your take on walking?
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
If you were reincarnated as an animal
Knowing everything you do now
Would you treat humans differently than animals already do?
Or would you bite the hand that beats?
Or would you bite the mouth that eats?
Would you treat humans kindly?
That could be a bullet finding
I come across a shivering raccoon
Stuck inside a winter monsoon
It's too young to survive
I could help I surmise
Its coat can't protect its form
In my car it's nice and warm
But I don't understand the raccoon
And I fear it doesn't understand me
Though I'm not proud of it
I travelled around it
Mosquitoes want your blood to survive
The same way I want your love to arrive
There's a pestering orbit
Your teeth grind and grit
I feel the need to feed
I am overcome by greed
I want you inside me
So I insert my proboscis
And you turn into colossus
It's an animal process
When you squash us
So animals grow stingers
And poison that lingers
When we use our fingers
To smash them
And detach them
From our humanistic existence
They have a reproductive resistance
So we keep fighting
And they keep biting
Because there's no end in sight
When we see animals take flight
We define anything different as animal
This is our excuse to act tyrannical
They feel our wrath
When they're in our path
We turn them into roadkill
This world becomes a landfill
Our hollowed humanity on the shelf
We treat animals as we treat ourself
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 3:14 PM UTC
I don't know what to think
when i'm staring in your eyes
more akin to speak
in blind lullabies.
than logistify
my heightened
surmise
in flight
to somewhere nice
if only for tonight
come with me this night
ignite
the cindered fires
of our desires
and incite
the throws of light
in **** obscurity
moaning through the sincerity
of our oddities
gleaming in the rarity
of our academy of lust
all or bust
entrust the accounting
of blaspheme
to the enemies
of poverty
and shove me
all the way down your throat
fill you
instill you
with the hope
of a million
grinning in **********
of the tangled mental merchants
of pretty lights and custom curtains
drawn at first light
dispersing
amongst cursing pedestrians
prior to ***********
of forceful ************
with an another human
lightened strikes the truant
in 9 months of fluent
agony
just imagining little Timmy
has me scavenging for a shimmy
to escape
its social ****
to a blind ape
still patting his head
don't be mislead
by ***** carriers
pack your own barriers
and prepare for the scarier
side of a mans mind
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 11:05 PM UTC
may the way that gives way to this accord of may be in awe of truth and not the fruits of disarray
I shall be meditating upon the roads travelled and many discoveries gather that I have unravelled
I shall curl my high excitements and misguided ambitions to unfurl what the calls of the wise unfurl and admonish
In the mist amidst the tricking twists of fits and false gists, may I hold up fists that will seize to desist and delete the disease of fallacy in curtailed wit
In the shadows dark, some pale
may I not fade into the tales of lies and manipulative games
In the guise of dames so modern and fabulously inclined to fame,
may I guage and carry my animosity into the mystery of my identity where only the genuine and real can relate
In the encounters with material and all that deters from the mystic and ethereal,
I hope to remember the real surreal to surmise the reels of fantasy thrills in graphic frills and euphonic trills
However the gigantic systems of the world in money, greed, vanity or lust, may doctor sickness into the souls of the lost and weak:
may my heart remain meek and my vision bright and led by the lens of the soul....
With or without I pray not as a religious pilgrim but a sage seeking neverending Light... ever the more grateful, harnessing the grapes of creation, worshiping a servant's code in humility.
hustling about this rash hassle of life overshadowed by pyramids and castles
remaining true to the cause even when temptation is endlessly bustling about
remember remember the hustle when you were down and out without
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
617
Don’t put up my Thread and Needle—
I’ll begin to Sew
When the Birds begin to whistle—
Better Stitches—so—
These were bent—my sight got crooked—
When my mind—is plain
I’ll do seams—a Queen’s endeavor
Would not blush to own—
Hems—too fine for Lady’s tracing
To the sightless Knot—
Tucks—of dainty interspersion—
Like a dotted Dot—
Leave my Needle in the furrow—
Where I put it down—
I can make the zigzag stitches
Straight—when I am strong—
Till then—dreaming I am sewing
Fetch the seam I missed—
Closer—so I—at my sleeping—
Still surmise I stitch—
4.2k
I can no longer disguise
Contempt in my eyes
The lows and the highs
It is you I despise
Heart no longer complies
While your heart denies
It’s me you chastise
Deceitful demise
There’s no compromise
I agonize
While you apologize
But my love I surmise
It’s fossilized
And I've normalized
What you’ve minimized
Gone are my cries
I’m numb from your lies
Like this I will die
Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 9:35 PM UTC
Give all to love;
Obey thy heart;
Friends, kindred, days,
Estate, good fame,
Plans, credit, and the muse;
Nothing refuse.
'Tis a brave master,
Let it have scope,
Follow it utterly,
Hope beyond hope;
High and more high,
It dives into noon,
With wing unspent,
Untold intent;
But 'tis a god,
Knows its own path,
And the outlets of the sky.
'Tis not for the mean,
It requireth courage stout,
Souls above doubt,
Valor unbending;
Such 'twill reward,
They shall return
More than they were,
And ever ascending.
Leave all for love;—
Yet, hear me, yet,
One word more thy heart behoved,
One pulse more of firm endeavor,
Keep thee to-day,
To-morrow, for ever,
Free as an Arab
Of thy beloved.
Cling with life to the maid;
But when the surprise,
Vague shadow of surmise,
Flits across her ***** young
Of a joy apart from thee,
Free be she, fancy-free,
Do not thou detain a hem,
Nor the palest rose she flung
From her summer diadem.
Though thou loved her as thyself,
As a self of purer clay,
Tho' her parting dims the day,
Stealing grace from all alive,
Heartily know,
When half-gods go,
The gods arrive.
4.2k
777
The Loneliness One dare not sound—
And would as soon surmise
As in its Grave go plumbing
To ascertain the size—
The Loneliness whose worst alarm
Is lest itself should see—
And perish from before itself
For just a scrutiny—
The Horror not to be surveyed—
But skirted in the Dark—
With Consciousness suspended—
And Being under Lock—
I fear me this—is Loneliness—
The Maker of the soul
Its Caverns and its Corridors
Illuminate—or seal—
4k
#*Love the sloth in my mind
Busy sloth-ing away it’s time
The cheetah, somewhere around
Slogging away all the while
The two at loggerheads
Tearing up my heart
The Mind, a multitasker
The Heart put to tasks
Time to summon the tortoise
I surmise*#
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 6:48 AM UTC
Hypotonic collusions
Rising in osmotic lesions
An eruptive soul reversion
Emissions of embered logs
Each lightening with a glow
A youthful straw of clemency
Pollinated sandals, handled
Gripping the flesh in vessels
Houses of lost and unreal dreams
Vicarage gardens of suppression
Masticated in delegated abstractions
A surmise of death and redistributions
Each a beat rise, slide on frosty ice
Un-enveloped in seasons of erosion
Delusional commotions sprawled
In the dance of the ecstatic programming
The body waved and led in hypnosis
********** with the intangible essence
To make sense a revised tense,I fence
Straying in lenient lunacy to fields afar
A merry to ferry the phoenix dance
Rattles shaking in transit translations
Drums pause settling in finesse pond
A coitus of dimensional valour and vice
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 9:37 AM UTC
Thinking About …Jealousy
I don’t sense envy in me -
But sense jealousy
Given the right (or always wrong) occasion
Why?
The past disloyalties?
A guilt? The lies?
A deep and hidden narcissism?
Is it them that I surmise?
A sickly need to own –
To call someone my own
When I, in fact have known
That no one, nothing is my own?
Does it begin in fantasy?
One asks the question
Wherefrom, why from
Comes that special gallery
Of idle fancy?
If the simile is ‘green’ with envy,
What then color jealousy?
Red, brown, orange, pink or blue?
Perhaps there is no hue
In color’s range
To chronicle that landscape and its danger!
Thus adding one more deadly sin
To slot into the other seven:
Is it…could they be akin
To chilling, killing, love destroying jealousy?
Thinking About…Jealousy 9.18.2016
Pure Nakedness;
Arlene Corwin
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 5:39 AM UTC
Let me daydream in this cosmic abyss,
and lose myself in its magic and bliss.
For in the space between stars and dreams,
anything is possible, vivid as it seems.
I dream of planets with oceans of gold
and moons with mountains that are extremely cold;
of nebulas that paint the sky in hues,
and black holes that swallow entire views.
Beneath the stars, a deep vast ocean lies,
teeming with life that I can only surmise.
On a distant planet, so far from our own,
an ocean of mystery lies unknown,
with waves that crash upon alien shores,
and secrets that hide beneath the ocean floor.
I sit and gaze into the endless expanse,
and let my mind take an astral chance;
to travel to worlds beyond our own,
where the mysteries of space have yet to be known.
Apr 2, 2023
Apr 2, 2023 at 11:02 AM UTC
Ye who have passed Death’s haggard hills; and ye
Whom trees that knew your sires shall cease to know
And still stand silent:—is it all a show,
A wisp that laughs upon the wall?—decree
Of some inexorable supremacy
Which ever, as man strains his blind surmise
From depth to ominous depth, looks past his eyes,
Sphinx-faced with unabashed augury?
Nay, rather question the Earth’s self. Invoke
The storm-felled forest-trees moss-grown to-day
Whose roots are hillocks where the children play;
Or ask the silver sapling ’neath what yoke
Those stars, his spray-crown’s clustering gems, shall wage
Their journey still when his boughs shrink with age.
3.5k
Trump STILL can't stand the thought
That Clinton won the popular vote.
In efforts to cause a major distraction,
He's keeping the voting fraud rumor afloat.
Clinton received two point eight
Million more votes than he--
Votes from voters physically present
Or votes from those voting absentee.
He says that he has evidence
Of widespread fraud. We can surmise
That he has his "alternative facts"--
A handy euphemism for lies.
It's a preposterous, baseless claim,
A mere BELIEF that he maintains,
Another false conspiracy theory,
An insult to people who use their brains.
Voting fraud is an issue
That Trump loves to keep in his sights.
For him it's a very useful excuse
To go after voting rights.
If there was so much voting fraud,
The chances of which are very slim,
Does Trump ever wonder how many
Fraudulent votes went to him?
The more he whines, the more he harps--
He's even driving Republicans mad!--
The more he loses the smattering
Of credibility that he once had.
- by Bob B (1-24-17)
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 8:48 AM UTC
1702
Today or this noon
She dwelt so close
I almost touched her—
Tonight she lies
Past neighborhood
And bough and steeple,
Now past surmise.
3.3k
She was radiant- she still is.
She drew me in and captured me through surmise amiss.
Her intention not to seize me but through her remiss; I found a graceful figure.
My madness said I loved her as I descended to abyss.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 9:48 AM UTC