"synchronisation" poems
O, come a little closer - hear what I have to say,
I know that one piece of writing can be interpreted in so many different ways.
O, but do pay attention to my word-play,
To the picture I’m trying to portray.
O, I hope by the end of this you will understand the image I am trying to convey,
But do not get me wrong, the end of this is something I am attempting to delay.
O, it is saddening to know that sooner or later my rhymes will fade away
So I will replay, replay, replay.
O, how I pray that what we have will not decay.
Like all the flowers & bouquets that I watched wither/die a bit more every day.
O, but how pretty were they?
Sad to know that each & every single one was thrown out like the contents of an ashtray.
O, how you must have noticed the repetition of O’s - I think they are here to stay,
Unlike my pathetic, childish rhymes that I am struggling to hold at bay.
O, do not get me wrong - the rules to rhyme are so easy to obey,
They are so easy to slay.
O, like tray, cafe, puree,
For god sake, even JFK.
O, please tell me - do you see the problem on display?
Do you see what I am trying to say, what is coming my way?
O, it feels like a betrayal
No, no, no that’s not a rhyme.
I need to rhyme, I need us to be okay.
Ray, clay, Bombay.
Tray, fray, mae.
Ray, clay, Bombay.
Tray, fray, mae.
O, please stay
I need us to be okay.
O, I know repetition of words is not a rhyme,
Nothing more than copy & paste.
Ray, clay, Bombay,
Tray, fray, mae.
Ray, clay, Bombay,
Tray, fray, mae.
O, please I don't want us to stray
I hate how we went from white to grey.
O, please I don’t us to end this way,
I know I am barely rhyming but I will try my best, okay?
Look - ballet, allay, hooray,
Hay, weigh, olay.
Look - ballet, allay, hooray,
Hay, weigh, olay.
O, please stay
I need us to be okay.
O, I know repetition of words is not a rhyme,
Nothing more than copy & paste.
I’ll come up with more,
Dismay, replay, is-lay.
Tray, cafe, valet,
Delray, Alleyway, Chevrolet.
It is not that I don’t know how to rhyme,
I just need something to rhyme for.
Rhyming is synchronisation, it is compatibility
I just need to know we are.
Please, stay, stay, stay,
Don't go away, don't go away, don't go away.
Please, stay, stay, stay,
Don't go away, don't go away, don't go away.
Ray, clay, Bombay,
Tray, fray, mae.
Ray, clay, Bombay,
Tray, fray, mae.
I know I am barely rhyming, but I will do my best okay?
Please stay,
Don’t go away.
Jul 28, 2022
Jul 28, 2022 at 2:11 PM UTC
Journal Entry #9
To lame to stand how I feel..
I press my lips to this glass filled with forget and I swallow deep.
Standing in nothing but a t-shirt, alone in this big empty apartment. I take solace in this glass to numb the pain within.
But as the music changes a song that reminds me of you starts playing.
How Ironic wouldnt you say...
I close my eyes tightly...
tense up..
try to fight it...
but before I know it my body is a slave to this beat and it makes my body come alive.
My hand grazes my bare thighs and I lose myself just briefly....
I pause, as I remember how good it felt when you touched me.
I remember the electricity and how you use to look at me.
God, the chemistry...
moments later your face appears so clear and perfect in my mind.
"Oh god, I hate this!" I think, as I press into the counter top behind me.
I try my hardest to stop thinking about you but memories of you are coming in waves and im being swept away.
I cant help but imagine what it felt like when youd slide your hands to wrap around me...
my god, the safest I ever felt.
I ache for you.
These memories are torment.
Tears stream down my flushed cheeks.
I bring my hand to my lips and I'm lost again.
I imagine bringing your lips to mine and how much of a rush it was each time.
You were intoxicating.
Kissing you was like a drug I could never kick.
Always wanting more.
Entangled in eachother.
Hold tight, each moment I did. Never wanting it to end.
Kissing in such synchronisation. Kissing you was nothing but second nature.
But I fight it, I try and shake it off.
shake you off.
my hips begin to sway falling slave again to our perfect song.
To the beat of my favorite song. The song about us.
I dont know how you do it.
I dont know how you forget such an addicting thing we had.
But you did and I'm lost with only memories now.
Memories I have to bury.
Because they give me so much pleasure but also so much pain.
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 10:49 PM UTC
being Polish was never **** it was never a clue for
the sentencing of volleyball team effort... it was never ****
whatever it was... it was never going to be an Irish
bargain of gambling... it was just bad luck...
something akin to Lithuanian, something worth forgetting...
like Indians and the Bangladeshis... like Versailles and Belvederes palaces...
it was worth forgetting... which exemplified the love of
music in western Europe... and where music is
lacking there the poetic expression... well thank you Pink Floyd,
but let us forget Auden... we can all do enough with a sing-along...
but when it comes to canvases of involvement to track
the shoe-lace ties or the cravat tangle readied for a ballet...
well, aren't you the one to tell us that it was just
a calorie intake of veganism:
mark that as a turnip postage... and a
fried potato licked, while she gags on ageing for the
added repertoire of scandal in sandals flicked to represent lapping
tongues and butterfly flicking of what became
flapped toe-curls of synchronisation; and the dipping,
soda baking of a tartar sauerkraut.
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 10:37 PM UTC
They say “write what you know”
I want to write about love and beauty, but I only know ugly.
No heart has ever belong to me,
no hands have ever sparked at a touch.
Ugly lives with creative minds,
given courtesy of dreamy teen rom coms.
I want to write about fun family trips and birthdays'.
Joyous days spent frolicking on the beach,
but I only know secrets, shouting, spite.
Love that should be given as sweet as honey,
yet this family bee sting is laced with bitterness.
I would love to write about the moments of content.
wrapped in the light of the moon with someone,
breathing in synchronisation.
To tremor when I stand around you,
my heart racing to keep up with my shaky infatuation.
So i don’t write about these things.
I write about awkward fumblings,
ungracefulness of my ungainly movements.
dinners with no conversation,
the dullness of an everyday flat life.
I write what i know.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
(until)
Your feet touch, your minds don’t;
you blow kisses, they’re carried off:
as the wind; to white face rocks.
There’s you, and you, and me—
laughing, trembling.
Leaving: ripples on a mirror.
(for)
Even when they need it: an open hand to steady;
A solitary swimmer shan’t seek synchronisation.
They’ll sink silently: sapphires streaming,
guiltily gurgling.
As faces gently distort: they’re left castaway.
Aug 12, 2011
Aug 12, 2011 at 12:45 PM UTC
To touch the skin of one,
To match the touch of two.
A reciprocated heat,
a touch of two flesh,
With the creation of one body.
Fluids of love,
Mixing
Binding
Digging deep,
Finding,
Whatever treasures lie beneath the waters.
Therapeutic,
A rhythmic click,
with each deep dive,
Perfect synchronisation
Creating the sweetest sensation,
Push,
With no hesitation.
No rest,
Full concentration.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 5:14 AM UTC
You may think you have no shadow.
But I see it dancing behind you.
I can't see it's face,
but I'm sure that it's smiling.
But it's no smile of fructose.
Just of bile and scorn overdose.
With topography riding limbs.
In seamless synchronisation
with yourself.
I hear it whisper and hiss,
with sounds of ****** bliss;
At each unseen bruise inflicted.
Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 9:57 PM UTC
*Symmetrical Syria we sympathise in synchronisation of sirens and sadistic nature.
Those man made craters, aren't the force of Mother Nature,
They depict only hatred and a tyranny statement,
That says our generation will never see peace,
Just pieces of you,
Torn and decimated from targets based on generalisations,
As if a minority defines the whole population.
We seen it before in Iraq,
Now we're back for more with pre determined attacks.
When they asked first,
They said no at once,
Cue the worst still yet to come,
They asked again,
And they bent and broke,
From the rubble comes a white smoke,
But there's no new pope,
And there's no hope,
Just none.
The headlines say ISIS,
But the mind might miss the fine print,
The truth is inside it,
But we're not inclined to find it,
Propagander at its finest, from the highest to those that digress and make our minds up for us in the name of democracy's mindset.
If it's not in your name, then who can we blame?
Those men we empowered time and time again?
Watching news, with a second of thought,
Of course you believe it,
Who needs a secondary source?
No remorse,
of course.
Just corpses and a sea as blood as far as the headlines will breath.*
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
The rose red dresses flutter and float
Over beautiful girls with smooth legs cartwheeling
Dancin' like swinging jitterbug springs
Going round in a bebop rhythm
Through the saxophone blasting soul
And the jazz drums which clash and simmer
The yellow lights and red smoke floods
Singing and a' ringin' in circles
Filling the air with childish smiles and laughter
Freedom reigns on the crowded dance-floor
Synchronisation in the joyful movers
Who dance and drink into the night
Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 3:04 PM UTC
Then the day came along with a new song to sing,and the clouds disappeared the nearer you came to me,
In the seeing,I was relieved to find that I believed in it all,
The Winter,the Summer and Fall with that synchronisation that springs forth and calls out our names in the mid light of countryside lanes
and where hope builds a nest from what nature gives best,
I shall wait here and ponder about the wonder around me,as the snow drifts shall blind me,where the Summer's are kinder and in the Spring and the fall I shall find a,
pathway to the next day and the one beyond that.
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 9:22 AM UTC
our footsteps in synchronisation
rang and echoed
with more depth than the
actions that ensued
i remember the coldness in the air
the biting gravitation of your body
in
proximity
too far and never close enough
and how i spoke from the heart,
whilst tripping over the nuances
the syntax
the delivery
the night is kinder than usual;
you're very distracting when you smile
snuffing out turns of phrase
& you're so sweet it makes me nauseous
in the prettiest of ways
-- and the way i saw you then
a pleasant melody in my mind
sweeping through the senses
free and unrefined
and i am humming
the tune, the best i can, for you
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 5:28 PM UTC
in the billionth of your own
kind...
what's celebrity,
a ******* ant?
or make-up that says:
oh babe, you're so un-recognisable!
give me 15 minutes,
it'll give me a head-start
in the marathon;
***** run! run! run!
i too was about to meet charlie xiv
and charles iii in the bedroom...
but i figured... got to keep
the **** for luck, and un-penetrated
and ready for a symphony of farts
when a trombone was to be stuck up there...
take up a clue of deciphering
winding footprints of grease in mud
to say: fried chicken!
and here was kentucky looking all privy and
innocent, that's what happens when you
drink ***** you become a woman,
a professional one and the odd feminist aged -
dear me i said goo footprints in mud that's
dried ash...
get the jealousy ticker to wait for the postman...
but each to his own... cee lo owned a song...
people see crow analogues, analogues of cats
dogs and elephants, they crave analogue
so much they couldn't achieve it
and decided to make cloning knowledgeable,
i mean **** me, it wasn't achieved,
man never achieved the analogue of crows,
he achieved a cloning process,
he achieved fame...
but that was hardly a comparable "to do with" concern,
when crows were innate in terms of analogue,
man was so far from the crows that
he gained knowledge of the dynamism of stars...
but to be grounded, how to achieve an assembled
synchronised analogy akin to a crow
of the non-jealous replica and discard synchronisation?
give them a coliseum! give them darwinism!
and give them the children of plagiarists of darwinism
to the lions!
i too unto pompeii beckoning.
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 6:54 PM UTC
Just sitting here in my tent
No radio, trying to do everything on my phone
Did I say peaceful? In my tree there's an owl.
Nothing strange about that you might say
Well this ones got the biggest mouth on it
That I've ever heard
Never eaten an owl before but this ones pushing its luck
Earlier today I had a few hours fishing and yes I did catch a few
I also watched dragon flies of ever colour
and the aptly named damsel flies dancing on the breeze
No choreography but still perfect synchronisation
There's so much wild life here and it's easier to spot now the leaves are falling
Multi coloured snow, russet, red, yellowy green, browns
Like autumnal snow drifts round my feet.
You know even if I could I would never harm that old owl
After all he belongs here while I'm just a guest
I like it here under this tree
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 4:05 PM UTC
It's hard to breathe when all your regrets are bouncing in your chest
that hollowness
and the never-ending echo that vibrates throughout my entire body
Have I made a mistake?
All the connecting, glowing, and seemingly sweet certainties have faded
I stand here stricken
My accomplishments in hand
And crumbling
Pieces of the last few years forming into an outline of your face
My fingertips pulsate with warmth as i recall your touch
I've never felt anything
Anyone
So perfect
So smooth and soft and unreal
Moments like these never last, do they?
We were so tired and yet so eager
To intertwine
Fixated on deep breathing
The flavours of eachother's mouths
And the momentary synchronisation of our existences
You're always so busy
And i'm always leaving
It hurts to entertain the idea
Beyond temporariness
But i can't help myself
I know you told me to say it less and yet
I am still sorry
I will always wish for a chance to get to know you
And for that I am not sorry
For once
Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 9:04 AM UTC
I love music.
It takes you to a whole new place, a different dimension. It allows you to travel with time, to go with the flow, to focus on nothing but different rhythms and sounds beating in synchronisation.
Nothing is more satisfying than finding a song that applies to your entire life, that relates to you when no one else can.
Whenever you are sad or feeling nothing but happy, I urge you to listen to a song and allow it to soothe your soul.
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC
Part I : Prologue.
You go left and I’ll go right
That isn’t right
Let’s go left and then right
Ok
Part II : Conflict.
You’re standing on my toes.
Wrong move.
Part III : Rising Action.
Take a step back.
Start again.
one, two, three four-
Why has the music stopped?
I changed the song
but I wasn’t ready ?
It’s over.
Part IV : Falling Action.
We just need a bit of practice
It’s never going to work
but i’m willing to learn
My feet are tired.
Part V : Denouement.
The two step tango of love dances within her sly steps of coordination.
The synchronisation of sensual steps
bringing closeness and intimacy
until the music stops,
by the hand of one
or the wavering string
of Fate.
It takes two
or one
to miss a step.
To break the flow and go
taking their routine, heart and radio
onto the next awaiting dance floor.
Nov 26, 2023
Nov 26, 2023 at 11:13 AM UTC
Soft lingering notes
Of an instrument
Set the scene
And poured the atmosphere
With an intensity
That flowed in the rhythm of the pumping motion of my blood
And I wondered if somewhere in the back of my mind
I was making up the unrealistic static in the air
Because I was having a moment that would never be considered likely
Black hat tipped as the tassels swung back and forth
I braced the longest walk up the shortest flight of stairs
And it felt like
I was a river gushing down the mountain
Sweeping towards the sea
To join the tide
As we strode forth
With pride
Heads held high
A mechanical motion
With directed synchronisation
Each in our own glory
A moment of royalty
The letters sunk into paper
Bachelor of Arts
Combined Honours Degree
But as the bright lights blinded my eyes
I could not help but realise
I had reached a destination
From where the journey would begin once again
That I had climbed a ladder
And the rungs got higher
Just as I finally reached the spectacular view at the peak
I was left at a cliff hanger
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 10:06 PM UTC
How many times
Have I told you
That you are the most enchanting deity
To make me believe
That there is a higher being
That gave my eyes something to admire
A soul as pure as fire
A town crier
you have made of me
Endless adulation
No state of frustration
Emits from your being
Except when I upset you
I swear, It was only teasing
How pleasing your tone
It doesn't idle like mine
I could be shipwrecked
And I'd gladly die of thirst
to hear such euphony
You see?
You are a muse to me
But so much more
Than words
I no longer demur
To these feelings
I give approbation
To our souls
I pray for synchronisation
But above all else
I want mine and your love
To never get lost
in translation
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 11:03 PM UTC
Words escape my mind and my tied tongue
Your uniqueness stuns
Complexities and hypnotic eyes
And that old cliche
Of butterflies
Rise
You are poetry
Your lips
That delicately powerful trip
Of your kiss
You touch in midnight blue
Calm as the universe
Before galaxies set off shooting stars
You are poetry
Interpretation, things unsaid
Pains of hopeless love and untimely death
Sea of planets beneath your skin
Synchronisation, acoustic vibration
A gentle heart, a genius mind
Maybe misunderstood at times
A kindred spirit came to find
You are poetry
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 6:06 AM UTC
I the inevitable longing for touch,
the presence, the skin
the voice of the one
who had to leave
despite the logic and honesty
and dedication to what is best
these embers cannot be extinguished,
no matter how hard you try
to smother them
II inside the confining walls of the car,
the engine running, heart pounding, and
lips eager for a match in motion
pretending that this won't affect
anything, it won't carry over to
tomorrow, to next week, till the
next month
III chemicals in synchronisation with
desires, but matter defies you, and
you keep trying though it makes
you feel utterly hopeless
IV wanting that againagainagain
retrospect,
alleyways,
speeding down that common street
V abandon these worries of breaking
and just delve into your true desire
headfirst
we stand in the woods alone-
you tell me it cannot happen,
my eyes beg you to change your mind
each trying to make the other see our
theory when all we both need is love
-cj
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 11:52 PM UTC
Du Chene and La Plante preach through the wires,
As I light up a smoke,
Watching the candle gently sway ever so,
As these two bear witness to the making of legends.
Personal courage,
To tell one's personal tale,
To cast off the societal thirlage,
And wander to where the predators wail.
They sing in perfect synchronisation,
The country twang of Du Chene a contrast to La Plante's,
Her vocals heartbrakingly beautiful,
As if the entire swath of water that is the Mississippi were as smooth as glass,
With the ability to turn as haunting as the memory of a lost love.
The skill to keep your wits about you,
Are needed in lands such as these,
And if you survive your legends will grow,
Gaining momentum to match the distance you travel and the tasks you complete,
Traveling with you,
Like the sensation of stain in a long healed wound,
That occasionally ghosts along the area.
That after your gone and long faded, Your travels will live on,
A wraith along those old and now overgrown trails,
To morph into something almost alive,
With each retelling of your tale.
Winding down their tune,
The music takes a calm tone once again,
Like how you imagined the eye of a hurricane as a kid,
Slowly winding up again a tad as if to hint at the struggles ahead,
They sing of where they wish to be,
And their willingness to bear the brunt of their tasks to reach their promised haven.
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 2:03 AM UTC
From the outside I am really a very silent person minding my own business but even in that silence, the 4 chambers of my mind work in synchronisation to detail the world outside. I am an observer. A silent, secretive and callous observer of every single detail which is around me.
She was the detail I missed deciphering. It was not that I didn't try but there was opacity in her thoughts. What ever be the verbiage, she remains an unsolved puzzle. She always will.
Her strange silhouettes are those which remain with me. I got a new pair of jeans and I observed that they smell differently.
In my old clothes, your fragrance exists. The new clothes surely lack them. I decided that it can not be the case that I live without a part of you in me. So I washed the old and new clothes together and now the 4 of us share your fragrance, you, myself, old and new clothes.
I have also not sold my bicycle which is cheap to the comparison of the one that I have now. It is only me who knows how expensive the old bicycle is. Why?
That is because on this same cycle I had invoked in you a love for cycling. On this same cycle you and I have gone for long rides at 9 PM to grab some beers and drink together. Happily living the illusion of deserving a beer after much exercise.
I have changed the tyres of the old bicycle because they had worn out and it made my past look ugly.
On my face towards the left side of cerebral cortex, there is a profusion ( a very very very very very faint I must add) of a nerve and it makes the first alphabet of your name.
I guess, I have some one watching my efforts in keeping you alive in life. The result is that now physical body knows that as well what my mind always knew. You are one for me, today and ever after.
There can be no one who can invoke such monomaniacal stubbornness in me.
Thank You.
Post Scriptum: I do not edit my poems usually. If there is a typing error, please ignore.
Jul 15, 2020
Jul 15, 2020 at 12:45 PM UTC
Ever wondered why,
The good comes with the bad,
And the bad comes with the good
I would like to mean creation itself is wonderful,
If i come to wonder off thoughtfully,
As air being like natures connection
So as to be in synchronisation with her
Is it because it Shes the giver of life,
And the Creator the well Creator
Apr 10, 2025
Apr 10, 2025 at 9:02 AM UTC