"thoroughness" poems
the lads are in tandem, biking well together
the lads are in tandem, biking well together
such is their dedication, on spec 24/7
such is their dedication, on spec 24/7
such is their dedication, biking well together
on spec 24/7, the lads are in tandem
they've a task to do, preserving their allotment
they've a task to do, preserving their allotment
strength and resources they expend, their energies focused
strength and resources they expend, their energies focused
preserving their allotment, strength and resources they expend
they've a task to do, their energies focused
the territory they range, both seeking thoroughness
the territory they range, both seeking thoroughness
again to-day they're in unison, their labors may yet pay off
again to-day they're in unison, their labors may yet pay off
again to-day they're in unison, both seeking thoroughness
the territory they range, their labors may yet pay off
both seeking thoroughness, they've a task to do
again to-day they're in unison, preserving their allotment
biking well together, they're labors may yet pay off
strength and resources they expend, the territory they range
on spec 24/7, the lads in tandem
such is their dedication, their energies focused
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC
Silently the social media hero strikes again
The swift and ruthless keyboard warrior
Crushing political correctness
Debunking liberal drivel
Overpowering the opinions of the obsolete
He grows and grows
With every post
And tweets make him feel
Like the torrent of thoroughness
Raging through a landscape
That needs to be cleansed
Outside lies a hostile world
With prying, judging eyes
Online, a world of possibilities
Where virtual battle cries
Are the prelude of a rally
Between the devoid and the deluded
But through his own gaze
Focused on the reflection
On the computer screen
A social media hero rises
While outside, the world passes him by
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 5:26 AM UTC
He saw her drop a wallet and nobody saw it
He returned it without her seeing it and she was glad
there was no thank you, no need to feel indebted to, no need to reciprocate, no belittling of the effort to not feel grateful, no aggrandizement of the effort to reward overly to the point of removing, no self-praise----all just a quiet act of kindness
but then someone did see him and blamed him for taking it in the first place and not only was the act not appreciated but it was scorned, misinterpreted, misunderstood, confused, defamed and finally damned. When kindness is ****** could there be any greater crime? The act was kindness and nobody understood it, and everyone jumped to conclusions, and everyone found one reason to **** for another reason, and nobody took the extra time, caring, compassion, and thoroughness and patience and love it would have taken to find out the truth---so the the greatest crime prevailed---far greater than the act that was understood to be the "justifiable damnation", but isn't it always the breeding grounds for justifiable damnation when conclusions about the biggest things in life are so quickly assumed to be true when they aren't. Reverse the crime with patience, love, understanding, caring being thorough, being careful, and remember the act of returning the wallet held such integrity that your shine will show the light to everyone else sooner or later but your light will forever shine regardless so don't unjustifiably **** yourself either---love yourself---and thank you for returning the wallet
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 7:34 PM UTC
Structure.
Stability.
Rigidity.
Critical view.
Thoroughness.
Totality.
Honesty.
Jan 30, 2011
Jan 30, 2011 at 1:44 PM UTC
the French palate doth enjoy a little horse
a batch of it hath been recognized
their meat products ill categorized
consuming countries seeking some recourse
a mix up at the meat supplier's end
hath drawn many persons to keenly question
the thoroughness of factory inspection
bovine and equine meats differ in blend
the affair hath been verily upsetting
those who didn't follow with consistency
now have a smattering of egg on face
the episode is most embarrassing
food items should guarantee authenticity
once they're on the market they cause disgrace
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 6:38 AM UTC
There's a difference in these woods,
drifting between grey, scabby bark,
sifting into the moist, wormy soil,
beckoning for purpose,
breaking into the sound of a
becoming yet battered nature.
The footprints can be light, thorough --
almost a trait granted by the torture of eternity.
With head-weaves buoyant above tree-leaves,
a hyper-vigilance stemmed from the abuse
of a darkly philosophy weaponized;
an extension of the elbows, forearms, wrists
of huntsmen seeking inferno.
A hollow is an ideal resting place,
beyond the greased veins of trees,
fingertips delving into clustered black,
grasping an illusory livelihood,
only to imprison itself,
hoping for only a thoroughness
granted by the torture of eternity.
When love enters the picture,
it's best to fade into the skyline,
becoming a blue phantom,
hiding behind q-tip clouds,
balanced feebly, anxiously,
unable to realize
how easy you can be seen.
How easy it is to underestimate
your own significance.
You can drag a razor horizontally,
thinking the ink of space
will pour through, staining yourself,
watching yourself disappear,
hoping for only a thoroughness
granted by the torture of eternity.
-
I dance with her, a light caramel mutt,
in a purgatory of racial tension,
between black and white,
living in the grey area of society,
not knowing that it's okay --
and she is like me,
I've just realized.
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 2:53 PM UTC
Today, I found beauty in hairy arms and a receding hairline.
My substitute for my English Literature class was a man. His name is Danny. He's short and a little fidgety, gesticulating with every word he speaks. His voice is moderately deep, strong and clear. He's attentive, though his fidgetiness makes him seem a bit scatter brained. His white t-shirt with a few buttons on the top and brown pants were rather plain. Rather, his attire was practical. Alongside his 5 o'clock shadow and glasses, he's average. He's your average middle-aged man, subbing an American Literature class.
But he isn't average. He's passionate. He knows what he's talking about. He's descriptive, knowledgeable, well-rounded. He's excited to examine and read and understand literature. He's genuinely excited to unearth the underlying meanings of our most recent readings. You can tell in his spazzy hand movements when he gets excited, or when he pushes his hair back and readjusts his glasses when he's in the middle of a thought. You can see it in his thoroughness of his explanations. He's engaging- he talks to and with us, not at us. He loves his job, he loves his work, and it's very apparent.
So Danny is beautiful. I think he is beautiful because of his passion. It caught my attention and it has me hooked. For this first time this semester, I want to go to this class because I know he'll be there, eager to explain the reading and ask us what we think about it too.
People, I beg of you to be like Danny- find what you love, immerse yourself into it. Your passion for your work will flow out of you and captivate you to your core. When you're that invested, it becomes infectious. Others will be captivated and immersed as well, even if it is more so in you than it is in your passion. Passionate people are alluring and captivating. I think that's beautiful, more so than other things a person could be. It's beautiful to be so passionate about something that you exude and live it, almost as if your passion were the air you breathe.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 6:26 PM UTC
I’ve been mistaken for a conquistador
When really I just break hearts by accident
There’s no evil in my deeds
And no wickedness in my words
I’m just looking for lovers who are lost
I’ve been trying to fix the unbroken
And all I do is break what can’t be fixed
There’s no cleverness in my words
And no thoroughness in my deeds
I’m just a lost soul looking for love
So you will know me by the trail of broken hearts
And the flower in my buttonhole
And that smug look on my face
And the searchlight in my mind
Aimed at nothing in particular
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 9:16 AM UTC
Slack canvas bends with the first strokes:
brush and paint scar a waiting whiteness.
Others follow of less distinct pressure
but now with an affected swirl
a life emerges.
Colours are selected with random thoroughness,
outlining only what the eye believes it sees.
Shapes conform to break the rules and innovate,
where bright arrays can glide through blundered blobs:
ochre, umber, raw sienna.
Sable is saved for finer life forms
steadfastly fixed in oil.
Tentatively mixtures are blended
to blur the more familiar with
darker and darker hues.
The creator remains anonymous.
Jul 7, 2011
Jul 7, 2011 at 11:48 PM UTC
A thoroughness here was her house
as she'd listen inside a glibly lit room
her whispers would doom in doubt
so forcibly heathen her lover's twitch
bright as her soul made ex spruce glow
but her midland east of Old Blue
soon her lakelet suburb dawned flatlander accent
mere document in fervid upswing
on porch of antiquity round inlaid flag.
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 3:44 PM UTC
her touch is so gentle
and her hands, so soft.
smoothly, they glide
briefly across
my skin; i breath
her scent into my lungs
deeply
briefly
she must never know
the thoroughness of
my enjoyment of
her fingertips.
fluttering eyelids
and stilled motion
might give me
away, but
even still, she must
never
know
.
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC
i have no other means to see,
only through the intervening vacuities
of the word — out in the field
there seems to be no end seething
to the very beginning;
these words now
appear limbless yet still make
their way deftly, scrunching
against the wall enough to toss the
body out of sleep.
i have nothing to offer
only my despair
and in this, myself, have seen all
too pristinely without a sensible trace
of fear or a mitigated feeling
i am all words and no conversing,
addled by the thoroughness of it,
ample warmth of a makeshift fire
thwarting the involuntary shadow there,
hiding behind the renegade
of thought or a portentous rearing
of imagination's hearth:
i am all words, no other than this alone—
having achieved this noble sense of
swift perpetuity, no other means to
this end than the poetry of impetus.
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 4:47 AM UTC
As the walls wear gold,
where they wore black--
as the waking that's awoken...
as the sleeping that's slept...
the thoroughness of it all
lives us to surrender.
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
Last night I went to Africa. I spent a month there. I know this because I told you.This morning I am exhausted, turned over too many times in sleep and wakefulness as the day gloats over my body. Yesterday’s skyline made me dream of lavender forests. In the dreams I took stills of purple and blue bark, papery shadows. I wanted to capture the essence for morning. In the morning I knew I would forget, but the image, or the fleeting, trails in me. I spent a lot of time by a river. Grey mud grows on me. In the mud there is a struggle. At times I would touch myself and find blood. I am not afraid of the scarlet here. The colour is rare and important, but tomorrow will be lost on me. I will be left with the flash of an impression in your arms. When I woke up I wanted to tell you something. A why was stuck in the mud burrowed within me. A new cleft. When I open my mouth I create old wounds in silence. I will spend the next few days trying to cover them in dust. In the dream I walked many miles, and the stairs of a house burn in me. I felt the thoroughness in my legs. Before I woke I squatted in the schoolyard where I told you about it, inspecting the new firmness in my muscles. I realized that I didn’t long to impress you. There will be things we never know. There are roads I walked and can’t remember now. The earth will not discuss it. Today the light affronts me. I am lost somewhere in Africa where you are not. Today I will not wake up. I will keep remembering the blood. The lavender forest spreads within me. A man will protest it with forgetfulness. I will push against the morning and slide into it. I will always slide into it.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
Dislike not what you know not of
or what you doubt to be true.
Follow everything out
to the point of taxing thoroughness.
Leave no stone un-turned
and no leaf left unruffled.
Live with exhausting deliberation
the life set out for you.
Simplify and better thyself.
Teach others by living as an example.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC
on seeing what got posted on paper
Joe saw that it was not of the true form
in the piece lay an inept uniform
this being so noted by the pro-draper
of such structure he knew a great amount
his years of experience were so well known
as exhibited in what he'd long shown
everything had to have the exact count
they who didn't present it in correct light
could expect a failure mark from his pen
nothing imprecise was given a pass
that would be his low score displaying might
they'd need the thoroughness of apt ken
when submitting for a crediting mass
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 11:34 PM UTC