"transiting" poems
I open up to you
My Deepest and Darkest thoughts
Gloom was my mind in the thick mist of depression
Awaken was the beast of endless tears
The sorrow of always living in fear
Having an open heart
Subsumes the probability of a broken Soul
Pieces shatter of ice so thin
So cold it makes the flesh
As it travels within the cracks of the pulsating muscle
So red and pure
Lively and pulsing
Transiting life in the form of little oval hopes
Peaceful as they move in motion
Rhythm as they move with stride
Knowing they are keeping the body alive
The cold turns blue
Blue is the gloom
Blue is my favorite color
The blue of cold Souls freezing what is giving me life
The blue freezes
Motionless is my body
Silent is my heart
Can you hear it?
No longer is it alive
Yet I am still breathing
Barely
My eyes fixated at a wall that has been torn
Trust has won the war to break these walls
And now deception reigns through my veins
Black as death as it poisons my skin
Revealing to the outer world a broken-hearted fool
You fool
You complete *****
I look for comfort only to realize I am alone
Alone in a world where so much care about you?
How is that possible?
When the one you care about the most
Is not there
Does not hear you calling
Does not feel your pain
Loneliness resides
And darkness rises
And my life
Is now an everlasting crisis
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 11:59 AM UTC
Transiting through and true
My coming and going has now become my undoing
From one place to the next
Never giving a rest
The constant vibration of my body cells
The resultant energy drain
Hunger pangs like ringing bells
Now a friendly foe.
Time passing by
Dashing out of every corner and place
With tongue covered in dry dust
And arms filled with heat of the weather
To give me a lick and a hug
Oh, what a bother
Jumping from bike
To cars
To busses and trains
To a destination unknown
Just a movement with time
With memories worth more than a dime
From one place to the next
Never giving a rest
Come hunger and sun
Come Weakness and rain
With the freezing cold of greying age
Indulging time with its uncaring gaze
I will persist
For all I know is
I am in transit.
Jan 4, 2019
Jan 4, 2019 at 3:43 AM UTC
Ow lover of roses,
I can't sweep through your phone
Because your phone is full of thorns
Ow lover of roses,
I can't sweep through your phone
Because your phone is full of thorns
I can't look into your screen,
Find eyes that are not mine; next to yours
Not in twine.
I can't look at texts and hearts
When hearts take us back to starts
Of what we had
And what we have
And what we will have
Is nothing but post modern art;
Little bits of writings
And rhymings that don’t rhyme because my heart cant keep a beat
And my beats cant keep up with your schedule.
Ow lover of roses
I can't see the red in your pedals
I just envision me pedaling away;
I can't see the red in your tender touches
I witness the tender touches caressing the redness off of someone else's eyes;
I can't;
See you and me in a room,
Talking about nothing
Yet infesting in void conversations about the nothingness of what we got
I can't;
See the tips of teeth when you smile
I can see the tips of teeth when you're truculent;
Trucks,
Exiting and transiting
Through my arteries
While I'm sitting
And spitting
Lame poetry
As you snap chats with shots of nonchalant lens-like tentacles,
Rapped round around the sound of dust
My heart is echoing
Following a path you've set.
Ow lover of roses
Cried the lonely man
In a so lonesome night,
As he looks at the stars and moon
Realize the missing lines
And the misinterpreted patterns
To pattern Saturn with Venus and Mars down to earth;
Proving pitiful love-like lures
Luring man since birth.
Ow lover of roses,
Roses in the shape of smarties or sandals
Or chocolate cakes with no candles
I cant handle,
The scent you send with roses that bend
To fall in my hand
And end up plucked in the end.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 8:18 PM UTC
She Just Always Wore Such Artificial Makeup,
Also Just Touching Up Her Previous Pictures,
Lightening Her Complexion Even If I Object,
So Much I Love Her Original Indian Colour,
Lusting After A Fair Colored Skin She Was,
And What's My Loss In Her Transiting Youth,
Is Just My Bickering According To The Angel.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 7:26 AM UTC
Dicontained, uprooted from
origins and disbelongings
stowed stored
in hermetic containers
stacked by soul-less rows
in the dead cold night,
transiting to upended lands.
Inside, a monocular view:
ironed pillars, art-palm,
disinteresting shots framed
of distant falls,
as luggage tumbles off
the conveyor creaking
tired from endless
circumambulations of the
graveyard of emotions, where
day on day, hopes, loves,
dreams, die, unwaved for.
Welcome - to neverneverland.
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 2:19 PM UTC
Welcome to love station.
Please dock your heart here
Slowly, softly, carefully!
Hope your journey thus far
Through the moon-bathed tunnel
Aglow with the choicest stars
Was pleasant and dreamful!
It would be sometime
Before you come out of the hangover
All earthlings have when they arrive
And be blissful in your time here
Holding onto your heart knowing in peace
That it would never stop beating
And instead be caged in another diaphragm
To live, love and go into transit again!
It's such a tragedy across millennia
That heart after heart was lost in death
Till mankind could find way to change it
Discover the key to immortality
Of transiting heart from one to other
And not let it be buried with the corpse!
You're now entering the heart lab.
Your replica is too eagerly waiting here.
See how it's already dancing in joy
Celebrating your immortality
And also its own!
Welcome to love station.
We assure you when you wake up
You'll know what it means
To be undead in love forever
And the key that was love!
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 2:35 AM UTC
A la mirada en nuestro espejo,
I can only invert a lit candle,
For a long time,
I dived in the bubble of aquam,
Crisp,
Deep,
And the companion of my mirror image,
Long nights, We conversed,
Long life,
We traversed,
Transiting each others double,
For the sake of unity,
In the sanity of time,
We reflect each other,
Como el echar del fuego,
Smothered in the dark waters of our lost memories,
Fish,
Detached,
Split,
We were until now,
In the reflection of my afternoon mirror,
Heal,
We do,
To the twin,
In the vessel of pounded tortilla,
Hecho en mi tierra,
Con labor,
We hold hands for now,
Amen,
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 10:42 PM UTC
For Mariya
a poet who apologizes
that she ent be able to
to keep up with my new poems, for she is transiting to the front of the Ukraine – Russia
War,
“I have a new poem sent to me every day only for my eyes, and I send a new poem every day only for his eyes, it a special pact that they just for us alone, and I love that. What a sad end though, maybe someone new will come who read you poem-a-day love?”
Mariya
<>
Patience is a golden key that, over time, opens every single door...
and for this alone,
we live for ourselves eternally,
awaiting our
daily dose
of almost yet,
an unshared single breath,
that enlivens us for twenty four more,
till that day, that, time,
when the poems are whispered
in each others ears, and exchanged
in a breathed breath via kisses that are
incapable of being wasted or
impossible to record,
and yet!
a singular breath
each an addition
to our owned private
library-
that will last the exact length of our two
lifetimes combined…
~*~
o.l.p.
~~
weep not for me,
my poetry is indeed diurnally
drunk,
by anyone and all who love
the notion
that it is
the potions of our words
that are the essential essences,
the very elixir
that creates & sustains
the ephemeral ether
we need to exist,
that we loosely label
love!
Nov 14, 2024
Nov 14, 2024 at 11:16 AM UTC
The most arduous part of a soul's journey over the vast ocean of creation is transiting through the human mind.
Jun 26, 2021
Jun 26, 2021 at 1:47 PM UTC
Who Am I ?
Defined by Occupation,
Or branded by Designation,
Is my identity beyond my Workstation ?
Relationships Galore,
Friend, son, lover, even a Mentor,
Transiting perceptions, is there More ?
Worshiping a higher Power,
A Temple, a Mosque or a Church Tower,
Labeled for my faith of the Hour ?
A mirror unraveling my Quest,
Permeating through the mind Possessed,
Finding my true self Unsuppressed.
Who Am I ?
A Flowing Potential
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 11:51 AM UTC
"A yummy granola of uneven stanzas, metaphors and similes, meditations, and confessions."
<>
this is I’m told
the how of how
I script,
I like granola though not
necessarily my premieur choix,
unless I’m breakfast buffet’ing
in Switzerland
and the all white mountains urge me
to climb aboard
I do not quatrain or cinqtrain,
my plan of attack is
****** and parry, defeat the
white enemy of empty,
with love my soul delivers
that which is rapidly transiting,
decomposing in my lobes,
awaiting perhaps reassembly and
reanimating in a new combination
employ the employees of writing
with liberty for all and
allegiance to none,
and the wild child within calls the shot
and asks only one question:
*what do I deserve,
more importantly,
*what do I know and owe you?*
Mar 26, 2025
Mar 26, 2025 at 8:06 AM UTC
This escape, the illusion within that we are profound,
Bound by desires, entirely suggestive and out of context.
The primal shift, the unquenching thirst for acceptance,
The struggle to find a peace of mind within the melancholy.
This apparent shift, from subtle cues to textbox illiteracy,
Catering to the masses, a massive reaction building.
Spiraling down, these dopamine fueled reactions transiting,
How do we escape this rabbit hole of constructed illegitimacy?
Turn your back to the crowd as hard as it may seem,
On this fueled paradox of mobilized dogma and hypocrisy.
One day you may find likeminds who speak volumes to the soul,
Free yourself from this cage, this existential identity entirely.
Escape the void, that’s created by fault lines in other’s eyes,
This crisis within, fixed with tools crafted by other’s time.
What seems to be worthwhile could be worthless in an instant,
Selective content fueling this machine of uninhibited design.
Like moths to a flame, hovering the fire that could scorch their wings,
These shadows in the sun, seeming bigger but not at all the same.
These irreverent norms guided by fallacies of ignorant beliefs,
The audience remains the same, listen to the point but leave out the tragedy.
Aug 9, 2019
Aug 9, 2019 at 11:11 AM UTC