"synced" poems
*I stand at the feet
of this stunning sunset,
The sparks in my eyes,
light each star.*
***Rhythm of each twinkle,
synced with that of my own.
Strong and sure,
albeit few and far.***
*Nameless wind brings to me,
stories of silky clouds
I pull your smile deep in my heart
and finally can breathe.*
***Familiar words
without cloaks nor shrouds.
Just words...
Yours and mine to reveal what
our hearts would unsheathe.***
*What day is this?
Perfect to find
the rebirth of
freshly dewed dreams.*
***It isn't yesterday
nor is it tomorrow
It's today...
Where the sun would see us
weave our tapestries
through promise-bound seams.***
*I feel deep in my heart,
a fluttery stirring,
A hope,
a strength to reach out to you.*
***This hope you speak of...
Tethered by no thread or string
Mending my universe
and making it new.
So now I stand
at the end of this set...
Seeking the beacon
that I had known.
I'd again brave through this day
tomorrow...
Just so that I could hear your heart
that beats with my own...***
Dajena M
ryn
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 1:18 PM UTC
Time: 7:30 pm
Temp.: 68F
~~~
overlooking the runways,
festooned by
accidental heavenly whimsy,
or humanistic whimsical inten-sity,
all the the planes and trucks are flashing
electrifying speckles, of eclectically synced
red and green
it is not my holiday,
but no matter,
like every New Yorker this day,
I am happily celebrating its
double U,
unique, unusual
"record breaking warmth"
yes, the Fahrenheit is outtasight, and by the dawn of
early eve~night,
the Centigrade is spiraling in reverse retrograde,
as the temp eases on down, just below seventy degrees,
on this dewinterized twenty fourth day of
December, two nought and fifteen
traffic is light, the terminal, an unbusy, slim shadow of itself,
the maddening crowds gone, now all are among
the dearly departed and either/or, the newly arrived
so composition of the observational, brings cheer and smiles to my faith,
(I mean my face),
the crowning quietude of clear skies, the absence of street smart
city bustle and hustle,
the languid atmosphere at the gates,
(where seldom is heard an encouraging word)#
makes me reconsider the true meaning of
the au courant phraseology of this day
"record breaking warmth"
for there is indeed
a calm invisible warmth suffusing all tonite,
chests glowing from fireplaces within,
contentment chamber containers in both hearth and heart,
and I am thinking
miracle,
about all the human warmth
on this celebrated evening,
holy night
indeed,
it is breaking records of
recorded human fusion,
the united commonality of millions warming
his and her stories world-over,
that your personal poet is
warming to record
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC
You licked your lips
I lip synced to you
you licked your stamp
I felt I might be cornered
you stamped your gift
I'm stuck on you
we got stuck in
strokes
smoothing down
you stamped your mark on me
delivered
lips to lips
striking
we stuck to it
no
we aren't stuck with it
but on each other
tampering
peeling off
licking our lips
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 8:05 AM UTC
Sunny afternoon
75 degrees
Breeze
Flowing
Blowing softly through the slightly cracked window
Trees
Swaying
Laying rhythmic undertones to lyrical chirping
Me
Smiling
Snuggled so tightly
Pressed against your skin
Entangled limbs
Indistinguishable as to where you end and I begin
Our
Hearts and Breaths
Synced
Collaborating
Producing a soothing lullaby as we drift off to...
Sleep
I miss afternoon naps
With you
In
The afterglow
after...
© Tina Thompson
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 6:45 PM UTC
Dizzy and uncontrolled, I open my eyes to see the smoke crowding the air.
For, my body has just become a safe haven for your hands.
Temptation has won tonight.
Moonlight is dancing upon our bare bodies and I am immersed in pure satisfaction.
Our lips have synced with the circadian rhythm we possess and the fire has started to erupt.
As the flames get more and more intense, so does the love we pretend to have for each other.
It continues to grow until we convince ourselves it’s real.
The bedsheets serve as our common ground for our broken hearts to rest on.
As we are climbing and pretending; pretending and climbing,
The fire is getting hotter, the love is getting cloudier, and our bodies are getting heavier against on another’s.
Faint whispers of phrases we dare not say otherwise fill the room.
Finally, the fire is extinguished and we are left to lay with nothing but reality.
Clutching each other for protection from yet another fire, we doze off hoping to wake up in love with each other.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 4:04 PM UTC
I send this track
Out to the Universe
Praying its echoes
Reach the farthest corners of the Earth
To reach you
I want the melody
To seep into your skin
The synthesizer
To shake your ribs
Each percussive meter
Synced to your beating heart
And as the music fades
And the ethereal chimes
Tickle the silence
Imagine my fingers
Tracing your lips
Pulling you in for a taste of bliss
I hope this track
Transcends the airwaves
That my light
Enraptures you
And embalms you
In Affection
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 2:20 PM UTC
step 1: de·ni·al
noun
the action of declaring something to be untrue.
i thought about sending you an email today.
i got through four drafts before i quit.
i haven't talked to you in three months. i haven't deleted your messages in three months. i haven't stopped thinking about you in three months. my heart is still synced with yours. it stopped beating 131,487 minutes ago. please leave a message after the beep.
step 2: an·ger
noun
a strong feeling of annoyance, displeasure, or hostility.
i'm glad you're gone. you were a house but you were never a home for me. i've moved three times since i left.
you shoved your fingers down my throat and left me retching in the snow, excuses tripping on their way out of your cherry bitten lips.
you made me your slaughterhouse, blood on my hands and heart.
i am made of too many things, a conglomeration the size of a galaxy, thirty people sewn into my skin. there is a hole in my chest the size of your fist. please leave a message after the beep.
step 3: bar·gain
verb
negotiate the terms and conditions of a transaction.
(maybe if i had loved you a little less you would have learned to love me back)
step 4: de·pres·sion
noun
severe despondency and dejection, typically felt over a period of time and accompanied by feelings of hopelessness and inadequacy.
i spent more time thinking about you than i ever did about myself. i'm not sure if this is selfish or selfless and i'm not sure if i know the difference. i hung up on you once and you didn't speak to me for a week and i'm not sure if this is love or hatred and i'm not sure if i know the difference. i haven't spoken to you in seven months. please leave a message after the beep.
step 5: ac·cept·ance
noun
agreement with or belief in an idea, opinion, or explanation.
you told me that acceptance was the same as tolerance.
i don't think i believe you.
i haven't spoken to you in twelve months.
please leave a message after the beep.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 8:11 PM UTC
We're still their,
in that world
we ****** each other into
That beautiful realm
where reality meets fantasy
and grass is luscious and warm
Where no matter the night,
the moon shines bright
and glows in radiating symphonies
And when the morning rolls in
we sink deeper in
finding wonders and pleasures, how?
Looking in those deep eyes
intensity petrifies my spine
I roll back my own in moaning sighs
You move
I move
Synced
Even this vast distance
is a meek, weak exposure
a classified holder
*******
this life,
no words to describe it
just feels
s.q.
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 1:20 PM UTC
I am ready to fall apart
and with a shaking heart I whisper:
"it's okay"
I know the taste of a blade
and the color of the sky as it bends and then breaks in that way
I am ready.
I hold my head steady and I step
forward, bringing no baggage with me to shlep
"I am ready!" I scream
the lights on a silver screen illuminating
my internal clockworks ruminating
this soul is weak and older than time but I am prepared
I can step into this light with all my anxieties bared
the scars are fresh
on this flesh, prison for the wispy not-quites
the things inside that make me me that give my eyes light
I am ready to fall apart and with a shaking heart
I whisper, "it's okay"
another time, another day,
I can look back because today
the pages of time flipped and turned
and everything synced into rhythm and rhyme
and falling apart seems scary until you do
it makes you wary, you don't want to
but you fall apart, all to pieces
only to catch yourself, not so much glass as puzzle pieces
put it all together and restart.
I am ready, and with a shaking heart, I whisper:
"it's okay"
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 4:33 AM UTC
Scuffed case.
Paired and synced.
Simple, easy.
Simplistic beauty.
Music plays.
Audio flowing.
Eardrums tremble.
Heartbeat flowing.
Time slowing.
Soul escaping.
Joy replacing.
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 2:27 AM UTC
Spill some wine on the season--
He's walking home at 1 am
And full of well gin and reasons
for both staying and leaving
and dripping orange lamplight
He thinks he'll try and dry out
(sure)
Try sinking in ideas and a couch
on his back lawn
Same old thoughts just circle
overhead in lazy patterns
Synced with beats made by cars passing
on the street at 2 am.
It's a passion play he's caught in
Passing days with failing stances
Whilst the nights keep passing faster
into blue-black blurs like bruises.
Open lids to empty coffins
With those thoughts' befuddled movements
--And he's introduced again
And it gets a little lonely
sitting on that couch with only
empty bottles and neuroses
for to break that pattern up
with another worn out pattern--
For to keep him in cold company.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 11:43 AM UTC
Ever have that I want to be alone, but I’m lonely feeling?
You know like, on a Friday night everyone is out in good company
While you’re home on the couch because that’s where you want to be
And as you stare at your no missed calls or messages on your cell phone
A flash of loneliness comes rushing throughout your body
But then again
You’re home on the couch because that’s where you wanted to be
Right?
Ambivert by nature, surround me with people so that I can run around the whole room
Conversing with every clique and crew
Then when I’m drained take them away
This is the way I’ve always been
I don’t know why, It’s something I cant really explain
I cling onto my personal space, stay away from it I don’t want you in my way
But come back and be with me I need affection and some attention
I don’t really have any friends
An emotional roller coaster that’s never ending!
You cant be outgoing and be a loner at the same time
Choose A side and stop leaving people in confusion
Its like you’re bipolar, I cant take it and so I’m leaving.
I’m older, and now it’s affecting my love life relations
Brokenhearted
When will I ever become synced with my feelings?
A complicated mass mess walking amongst the crowds with her head down
One day I’ll conquer this mental confliction
Until then to stay hidden…
I keep talking
And to be heard
I remain in the dark corners, silent
[?????????????]
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 9:08 AM UTC
I watch our love go up in flames
Feel my soul catch fire too
Summer reminds of happier days
The face I once knew
Distance is dangerous wind
Fanning flames, vacant of your smile each day
Your heart so numb you cannot feel the burn
Hear it beat even miles away
Patience the quality I lack
Forget to give my feelings time
So these hasty decisions catch up
When it's too late to change my mind
In forgotten days when your heart was better
Pleasant, simple, and unaware
Friendship quietly develops rust
Photographs more than eyes can bear
Broken glass, shattered hearts
It has all lead to this dead end
Perfectly synced self-destruction
Beautifully orchestrated lies descend
Peeking through darkness, cartwheeling midair
No stars left in our sky
The night alive with melancholy
Sorrowful birdsong in gusts low and high
My heart suspended in tragic beauty
Soul dies a little more every day
Waiting for eyelids to finally open to the light
Radiating from the glow of flames guiding the way
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 6:05 AM UTC
i thought you were a painting at first,
with the way those dyed eyes matched mine,
with lips as full as a novel and as red as lower worlds,
made me think you were a painting--of something most divine.
i thought you were a painting at first,
with the way those small hands rose as mine did,
with the way those lips tasted of cookie dough and warm sugar,
with the way those eyes never seemed to leave me for naught,
and abandon me in lakes.
i thought you were a painting at first,
when i approached and eels ignited my mind--
with the thought--the picture-- the painting of you, O dear,
and set my mind within seas--clouds--of gladiolus's.
i thought you were a painting at first,
with that ever-always smile,
for do you not bleed at the mouth,
with that kryptonic sunshine?
i thought you were a painting at first, my love,
when my hand touched your sadistic smirk,
knowing i couldn't truly reach you,
and the heathers over-lapse me.
i thought you were a painting at first,
when my cheek touched your cool one,
and stained it with cherry pop blush,
for i know it's your favorite,
as you wear it to bed, all-while.
i thought you were a painting at first,
when i froze and my mind sung eulogies,
at my death at your satin feet,
for your beauty reaches past heaven.
i thought you were a painting at first,
when my smile synced with yours,
when they poked our eyes,
when they wrinkled our noses,
and when the sun shone still--even though ours were enough.
i thought you were painting at first,
until our lips met 'neath blue light,
and the shivers i bled,
fueled our world a-night.
for, dear, i thought you were a painting at first,
when i could see my heart beat--pace as yours,
and the moon and sun morphed--into entity,
and made us water lilies birthed with ravens.
i thought you were a painting at first,
when God told me,
'for you are the most beautiful person i have birthed from my lungs,
and spoke my heart to,
for you--and your painting here--are the only things that dance to my world.'
i thought you were a painting at first, my love,
when i bleed into pots and saw you doing the same,
now i know when my time is scuffed 'neath the barren sand,
your blood--our resin--stains lots.
lots.
lots.
for i know you're a stunning painting, O love,
for you lock many hearts.
i'd hope to own thrice of many,
so you could master theft over, and over, and over again.
i know you're a wondrous painting, O dear,
when people beg you to pose,
so they could see that beauty too, O love,
and kiss it a wish.
i know you're a masterpiece, love--
sweeter than melted butter,
and the finest of berries,
for you're worth--worshiped--much more than,
such mundane things.
i know you're a vintage classic, O wonder,
when my eyes turn blinding stars,
and fill up night skies.
for i knew you were a--
masterpiece...
master... piece...
master... piece...
master.
for i knew you were a human, O master,
when my eyes gloss over in drunken clarity,
and my lips spill cider;
my hand becomes water at your touch,
for the pool knows no words,
to bask in my beauty.
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 6:08 PM UTC
Closed my heart for a moment
to open my eyes
& mind,
didn't realize
I was nakedly dancing
with some reprobate snakes
because I was trying to make them smile
like a stripper searching for tips.
I liked the way they rattled
through life, their *****
thoughts synced
up to diff'rent
drums 'till I felt the venom
in my veins they claimed were
love bites, despite the paralyzation
of my intuition and warmth.
I was seeking out the snake's smile
if only for a little while
cause I thought my heart could help.
But snakes can't crack a smile,
no, snakes can't crack a smile.
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 5:19 PM UTC
*The night’s ramblings
Whispered incoherently
Hearts synced forever
Can comprehend them
It’s a winding labyrinth
Hand in hand
So as not to lose each other
By the moonlit path
Incoherent whispers
But meaningful conversations
Laying supine under starry sky
It’s a dream together
Preparing to fly to destinations
Night’s ramblings
Have given a new meaning
To the adventure of life*
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 1:51 PM UTC
please do not confuse me
with the person i used to be
she does not live here anymore
we are no longer linked
we are no longer synced
she does not reside here,
I am not her anymore
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 11:24 AM UTC
We've been this way for a very long time, we've been together for more time than you can imagine. Little weary chains link our minds, looping in and out and up and down. We're this tangled mess of synced thoughts and synced dreams, and sinking syllables.
Every sigh that you let slip from your tired lips is an indication of my exhaustion, because you and I, we lie in comfortable tessellation.
You and I, we've been through magical realism, and the romantics, and the surrealists, the grammar nazis and the pretenders.
You and I, we've etched each other in shifting sands, in clumsy waves.
You and I, we know each other's movements across a blank sheet of paper.
You waltz onto empty pages with constellations for punctuation. Screens may read verbose sacrifices to the patron saint of inspiration, but you, you don't stop or pause to check for abbreviation.
You take half hearted syllables and turn them into poetic nations, you build monuments to love but you neglect infatuation.
You try to touch every single figment of my overactive imagination but then you shuffle away so as not to cause complete annihilation.
You speak lucid languages in times of complete inebriation and you continue this slurred speech against all drunk invitations.
You try to write me down in moments of utter desperation but the grip of your words falter as I run to my wild desolation.
You and I, we've run across clouds, left our footprints in the wake of comets.
You and I, we've sailed all the seas of consciousness, those that can be fathomed, and otherwise.
Slowly, your step exceeded mine, and your stride was longer, so I struggled to keep time. Slowly, I felt our tangles unwind. Slowly, our roots straightened out in a single line and you crossed it.
You crossed it.
Un Saut dans le vide, a leap into the dark, and you were up, up and away. I wanted to trap you in cunning similes, but you were running as fast as the wind.
Little weary chains that linked our minds now struggle at the seams, tiny links begin to
unlink,
unlink,
unlink.
one
by
one
by
one.
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 1:13 PM UTC
I want to plant foothills by the stairs. Broad basins on the chipping white paint. Flaking from the ceiling in droplets. Watering the drought of steps of vacated conversation, inner tongues flicking pleasured thoughts. Touches sprawled on black sand paper are compressed by our synced footsteps. Intertwined by laced fingers and hungry thrusts. Backpedaling to the peak, it causes cautious urches. The snowy ridges still chipping off, lips sealed together puzzled by whom will break first. Or if the sprouting seed inside is blooming in the other……….I still can’t figure out when you walk down the steps.
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 11:18 AM UTC
We want answers,
And we want them now.
Generations scrolling down together, receiving
Informal lessons from sometimes qualified strangers,
Impulsively living, giving status updates,
Proudly showing the world pictures
Of all the places we’ve been -
Twittering to gain followers, digitally devoted,
But consistently losing the edge,
Heading back to Starbucks to refill.
Welcome to the 21st century,
Where life spills into the abstract,
And we consume with the click of a button.
You’re only a copy-and-paste away
From a satisfactory translation,
A GPS away from your next location,
One computer screen freeze
Away from total frustration.
Just ask a teacher, they know exactly
Where the future lies, somewhere
Between a child’s wandering eyes
And flippant commercials, there is
Utterly, complete concentration.
What’s the solution?
More time preparing
For entrance exams?
Creating more diverse
Lesson plans?
Either way, students will
Still quote Spongebob
And call you a square.
Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 1:39 AM UTC
~
<>
*nearby distant,
the soft thrash of warm waves
lapping interlocking,
happily wet tongue kissing,
sun-oven precision-crisping
the Long Island striped bass
and porgies, at a surreal cooling
77 degrees
Pandora synced to his eyes,
shuffling freely,
by saying
we too see!!
playing for him,
Stairway to Heaven (Led Zeppelin)
poor, poor poet,
strains to brain drain one more time,
conducting an ogling googling word search
for those combinatory storied ones that
sailboat glide
all the while
wildly bursting with Pellegrino effervescence
compromising sounds sights,
to present
properly the balance,
to preserve
properly this moment,
peaceful alive for all times,
as poet has tried,
and failed so many times before...
the caw caw caw of the crow mocks the illiterate human,
for the bird calls it, in single sound perfect and
the human a laughingstock,
for not in his possess,
to capture this perfect moment
of human sabbath.
a Roman Saturn day of rest,
on this day that itself,
is perfection,
perfect for celebrating our common creation,
on a day that our
almost-all-agreed-upon calendar
is marked for us to
forte rest,
from an existence of just laborious
the chubby checkered cheeked squirrels
laughingly pauses,
watching, enjoying a poet's struggle,
mind boggle,
the poet's chubby cheeks
stuffed with discarded words,
all insufficient to capture
the absolution of
absolute beauty
bathing in the noisiest of nature's sounds,
all that contravene the silence of living things,
breathing prayerful thoughts that all
summary end,
with a common gesture of
forefinger upon the lips
a human acknowledgment of
utter obeisance to the forces
calling out by example
listen, see!
silently presenting,
this,
this!!*
a day that demanded perfection
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 5:27 PM UTC
**We are like two different thoughts synced with our heartbeats,
We are like the wayfaring bodies traveling on the same streets,
We are like the moon and the sun, loving each other afar,
With galaxies around me, yet wishing for a shooting star.
We are like the coffee and the tea, gulped during a winter breeze,
We are like the pheromones generated by a gentle squeeze,
We are like two steady boats flowing in tranquility,
With innumerable happy faces around me, yet i find yours very pretty**
*Your face is prettier than me.
Beautiful than the blue oceans
and skies. Calming like the waves
in the shallow rivers. Calming
like the way morning dew falls
down on rose petals. We are
like kings and queens living in
royalty. The way you look at me
and the way i bow down to you
when you call me your majesty
makes me feel like living the life
of luxury. We're like
peanut butter and jelly and how
they get mixed up together while
they make their way down to
one's belly. We are like coffee
and cream because of the way we
both go together. Most of all we
have a love that's not mainstream.
Not like those couples we see constantly
on TV. You make my
every day seem like a valentines
to me. Just by bringing me treats and
kissing me under the sheets
while we sit together. Every day i pray
that this is how we'll stay for
an eternity. I pray that we'll be husband
and wife for an infinity* ~
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 12:30 PM UTC
Today I don't believe
in love at first sight.
It's been replaced by lust;
a look of stalking prey
without any real understanding of "who"
but rather "want."
I must have believed in it
when I met you
millions of years ago--
our eyes synced together,
and for only a passing moment
we must have grokked each other--
forging an early link in the chain
called our timeline
through the fire within our molten third eyes,
binding our spirits together in the metal with lightning
from our hearts
and a hammer of certainty
as we saw each new life
we were to live had us meeting
all over the world, from Denmark to ancient Mexico
to Egypt to The Light past the darkest parts of outer space.
That's the only explanation
that makes sense,
why I don't believe in it today,
because it's already happened ages ago.
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 7:29 AM UTC
Sunday has certainly lost its crown
Over the other six during the lockdown
May 2, 2021
May 2, 2021 at 6:10 PM UTC