"tangency" poems
Lazy Monday.
Raining Morning.
Inky pens.
Empty papers.
This 4-cornered room became a
Vast new world
When I met
You.
Your "What's your name?"
was more than a question, it was
An invitation to
A breath of fresh air,
A gulp of warm sunshine,
A waltz on green grass.
From small talk on the
Wet weather,
The films at the theater,
And our ******* professor,
Our lips spilled over.
Awkward smiles became
Shy giggles then
Uncontrollable laughter.
We pulled each other to conversations on
Artists Picasso, Van Gogh
Historians Constantino, Ocampo.
I told you about
Distant galaxies and the theory of gravity
While you said things on
Progressive policies and your farming family.
You said pick-up lines, I gave knock-knock jokes.
We tried to mash-up Let It Be and Let It Go.
Your mind was a treasure chest full of stories
Forever you
And your words are engraved in my memory.
All this ended though
When the clocks striked 3.
The session was over;
There's no reason to be here anymore
And so I guess it's best for us to just
Leave.
"It was nice meeting you."
But it's horrible that
We will never meet again.
What was us will just get lost in the plane infinity
For this moment that we shared
Is just a mere
Point of tangency.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 2:00 PM UTC
You’re leaving.
There was so much to be said.
Words, thoughts, feelings,
goodbyes.
The moment has passed—
too quickly—
but what should I do with unspoken words?
Where do they go?
They begin to lack vigor and tangency.
If thoughts could fly like birds,
then I would be watching mine approach the horizon
growing smaller
and smaller
and then
gone.
But they’re not gone--
just elsewhere.
Have they flown with the rising sun on their backs
to that place you’re fated to be?
Or am I erroneous to think as such?
Resting in the recess of my mind—
the lucre of a passive marauder—
these words remain
buried.
Life’s situations changed between acts.
Distance drew the curtains shut.
Intermission.
The curtain draws again—the characters altered.
I, the observer, surprised by the act’s new backdrop, notice
the players have matured.
Quickly, too—
but my view has not yet adapted
still remembering the beautiful set of life’s passed scenes.
Alas, the show must go on.
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 12:05 AM UTC
Portrayed in an artiface
Of long and grey rhymes
Replayed in a video
Of really bad lines
Lost in a tangency
Of bitumen and brick
Tangled in quagmire
Of cigarettes and sick.
Lurching through life
In yesterdays clothes,
Acting the part
That nobody knows,
Chic desperation
Apparent to all
With the certainty
She’s for a terrible fall.
Miasma of moods
Through a ***** blue haze,
Insulting a friend
In an instant of craze,
Sprawled on the street
In a leopard skin skirt,
Makeup awry
Broken nails in the dirt.
Screaming abuse
To the well meaning hand,
Lost, alone
In a drug ridden land,
Fearful of shadows
And clinging to those
Who lustfully use
To so casually dispose.
Blond hair falling
Down over her face
Mascara running
In smears of disgrace,
It’s dangerous to stagger
Through traffic in rain
With lost high heel,
Tear streaked in pain.
Vagrants for company
Hunched in a cell,
Shivering cold
And ****** to hell
In a moment of clarity
And startlingly clear,
A small shimmering hope
Lies so distantly near.
Marshalg
@theCoalface
Victoria Park Tunnel
8th May 2010
May 7, 2010
May 7, 2010 at 12:36 PM UTC
If a puzzle was his peer
and a parallelogram was his shirt
while his tangency threw his belt
where his shoes kept aground
and his step to rather George didn't tarnish him;
with the steeples in bay windows on near side of the street to worship a gathering of wisdom where he'd praise mackerels
and the president with a gray suit.
Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 3:08 AM UTC
a glimpse of
what might have been:
the candle
and the blow
pacing the floor
mind filled with nighthawks
stomach with bitter pills
snow on the window sill
--the long winter
of our love
it comes out of the blue
like dead reckoning
thoughts of us
unfinished
a hand withdrawn
the final wager on goodbye
Oct 12, 2020
Oct 12, 2020 at 11:24 AM UTC
The ruins between my ribs held us static
We were parallel lines that were never coincidental,
A could-have-been intersection that ceased to draw itself
Just before the point of tangency.
You told me it was I who stopped pursuing you,
That it was I who fashioned these rusts in my own gears.
Apathy was my choice,
Until I saw the concern that lay beyond your hostile mask
That left me wanting for the unknown.
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 4:30 AM UTC
A differential equation really tells me that reality can be examined by as many factors with as many changes over as many dimensions as imaginable.
And that orthogonality, tangency, surface area, and volume are basic orienting points, along with rates of change, and that I can transfer this data into a set that is much like a map.
However, it tells me only of concept and not the world, or only basic geometry of the world.
It tells me a lot about space and the symbols and numbers that represent such concepts.
Yet language tells me of my mind, and this math only points out that any change, volume, space, or objects in a dream can be seen with numbers and symbols - that spaces can be exact.
Which may say something about the future, but it can never tell me of the afterlife.
And that spirit/soul even in my materialistic theory means very little when confronted with a new universe.
If I go to another universe, universe B, from this universe A, then even with the transposing of *** and evil into companionship and innocence, in my understanding, these two changes would make the rest of the universe differ greatly.
Thus, the thought of the afterlife will always empty my mind of this universe, leaving me with no real full knowledge of life as I have yet to even use my senses in the next one.
I then always return humble while the atheist considers this universe to be eternal already, without prediction to experience anything greater than its synchronicities.
I have to give them a hand as I imagine this universe overfills them and are forced to deny the spirit rising beyond our cosmos, but rather affirm the spirit that is the totality of this one.
It sets no stage for memories, unfinished karmas, or meeting with the peoples of history.
Therefore, it places a great significance on today, a great significance on love that exists now, and a great significance on the works our forefathers left us.
I would say that this is superior for creating a sense of progress, a sentimentality for others, and a need to experience an openness with all this universe.
Above all else to check off everything on my bucket list.
Mar 10, 2021
Mar 10, 2021 at 4:27 AM UTC
With just tangency
You touched
Skin on Skin
You can change
Somebody’s mind and feelings.
With just words
You wrote
Ink on Paper
You can clear
Somebody’s mind and emotions.
With just strength
You built
Stone on Earth
You can shelter
Somebody’s mind and body.
With just strength
You destroyed
Homes
You can shatter
Somebody’s mind and soul.
With just words
You overwrote
Meaning
You can erase
Somebody’s mind and thoughts.
With just tangency
You hurt
Someone
You can leave
Somebody’s mind and heart.
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 6:28 PM UTC
Contact: noun, \ˈkän-ˌtakt\
The apparent touching or mutual tangency of the limbs of two celestial bodies, or of the disk of one body with the shadow of another during an eclipse, transit, or occultation.
-Merriam Webster
Contact is so important.
And that's why if you can't contact me fully you won't contact me at all
And if I
Come closer
You push me away.
When all I want to do is send your soul a
Contact
A contact lens
In alignment with your eye
Your future comes into focus
And my love is blind
But you shut your eyes on it.
When I stand in front of your face
My lips receive your contact
As you speak sweet honey to me
Then slowly slip away
And I think
Did I reach the right number?
Or maybe I was just one of a number, for you
Because too many calls can cause static
When you've had more than one name on your contact list before mine
Or did I just not call at the right time?
Sorry I couldn't be in contact with you--
Not in the way she was
But I was making love in the REAL way a person does
Over long distance and over time
And you should know that I have been in contact, too
Every single breath I breathe, I breathe for you
And it affects the air current, and then the oceans, and the moon
You see
So when you see it, think of me
Because it is my message to you in the sky
My love written out loud in the stars.
When things get dark
I will always want to be the one to turn on the light for you
Feel the sunlight on your skin?
Well, that's my contact, too.
I’m shining, and I’m burning up my heart and soul for you…
But now my heart is broken
And my screen is cracked
And I seem to be unresponsive to contact
But the reality is that
If you want me,
You have to come and get me.
You have to be the one to touch me.
—and I want you to.
But I'm through fighting a one-sided battle just to lose
The most precious thing I had
Time and time again
Because I'll always lose it
If you don't choose to let me in.
I speak of your heart.
This distance separates us but is no different than
the wall of empty space that separates each atom, and
In fact, skin to skin is not even true contact.
So what makes life real?
Is it the contact between our bodies
Or our souls?
Now, this is the thing you’ll always have under your own control!
And that,
That is where it all comes right down to choice.
Because no matter how loud I make my voice
You have to choose me too.
And I’m another broken window who wants to hear
“I love you.”
I want to be swept up by love
And I want it to shake me, down to my soul
I want to be hugged so tight I’m left whole.
I want the light to penetrate my very being.
Two celestial bodies in perfect resonance
Enveloped in pure beauty up in the Heavens.
My love, what I want is the truest form of contact—
To drown in this love, and never look back.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 11:53 PM UTC
-
illumination will conspicuously
reveal details only after such a
boorish tangency of skin can be
excused for dim–witted attempts
at enveloping one's entire surface...
s jones
2023
.
Apr 10, 2023
Apr 10, 2023 at 6:31 AM UTC
Confusion's forsaken my thoughts to the long-lost brothers of insecurity.
Forcibly taken and tossed aside to hide within the lies of insincerity.
Kindred servant's lullabies:
Forgotten songs of yesterday,
Soothe me into waking nightmare.
Lead-shoed memories float upon seas made of stone,
Buried shallower than a grass-fed grave.
Anxious tensor userp my synapse's happiness...
Clutching my eversweet peace like a spoil'd child.
Hidden from view,
but most certainly there.
Dare me to escape the frozen steel I call home.
Wrought Irony,
Dragging my prison beneath my feat...
Misspelling's intentional because my feat?
Dragging my feet.
Asleep at the wheel,
my heart is steel.
Awoken stone cries gravel tears,
bruising my feet as I walk,
Talking as if the sensation is anything less than profoundly real.
Tangency is my thought process,
Clever distractions from the harbor'd fears:
just look the other way.
Case in point:
Confusion's forsaken my tears,
as my fears fade away,
if only to return another page.
Oct 29, 2019
Oct 29, 2019 at 7:06 PM UTC
If it doesn't matter spacially whether there is a 1st or 2nd, etc., connection, then this matter shouldn't matter within reason.
As long as a connection is made or not made, that is all that will stand out.
The kind of connection made cannot be spacially signified except via overlap or by tangency, so therefore, within reason the kind of connection made should not stand out either.
Therefore, this subject of topology is really a matter of 'connect the dots'.
Apr 27, 2021
Apr 27, 2021 at 5:46 PM UTC
i have always
dreamed about
us meeting at
one same point
of tangency;
intersection
so close that
nothing can
pull us apart
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 10:56 AM UTC
2/4
Our worlds experienced tangency
Once, we met and then you're gone
And somehow, that was fine
3/4
Our worlds are asymptotic
You are so close and if i can just reach out
Maybe it would have cleared the doubt
4/4
Our worlds formed a circle
We are half-arcs filling each other
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 7:34 AM UTC
I thought this love of ours would be eternal
But darling, we were just like Tangent Lines . . .
. . . which were given the chance to meet once . . .
. . . and then parted forever
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 6:28 AM UTC
Love
A statement I've heard before
People say it's the best feeling
in the world, but it's not
We all know that song
"What is love, baby don't hurt me" right
But that's basically what Love is
It's nothing but pain and sorrow
With only a tiny hint of euphoria
And that euphoria only comes
To cover the the fact that the process
of love is impaling them with a blade
slowly embedding it deep upon their heart
And that is what love is
It's that blade you just stabbed them with
The blade that you will have to pull out of them
once you stop loving them
That's why it ******* hurts
It hurts when they stop loving you as
you are left to bleed out your emotions
Writhing in pain as they pull out the blade
slowly and mercilessly from your heart
Catching a glimpse of that
Moment of tangency
Seeing what might have been
If you just change
But now you are left with
That sinking feeling of Alazia
And a massive hole in your heart
continuously bleeding out
Those emotions that you have
That you wanted to give
To that one person you were suppose to love
That is why we crave
For the comfort of others
When we get our hearts broken
For we want to bleed out our emotions
To other people
As that feeling of love
Is quite addicting
That is why I try to find other ways
To cope with this
Addiction I have
The addiction of love
Even if I have to rely
On the comfort of a blade
As I cut my wrists
Just so I can use pain
As a distraction
In this madness
You call love
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 9:59 AM UTC