"uncomplicated" poems
He tied his love to the railroad
Tracks and the
Fears that were part of
A matched set
Tied them down good
And left them screaming
Obscenities
The Baltimore and
Ohio derailed that day as he
Threw away the towel that
Read "Hers" while "His"
Hung there alone and
Uncomplicated
Like the black and white
Silent movie life he had fabricated
He poured a single scotch and
Soda and thought of the children
He'd never have to have
Heard the gospel-flavored whistle of the train
And his salvation
On the railroad tracks
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 5:52 PM UTC
I have mixed feelings about you
Sometimes you make me smile
I want to curl up and watch a movie and just relive how uncomplicated everything used to be
But thinking about you makes me sad
I remember how we said goodbye and really meant it this time
I wonder if we will ever get that second chance
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 10:42 PM UTC
Adoring you is uncomplicated. The way in which, refreshment comes with your ravishment is treasured spectacle, and though your fans are many, this one broods. Pining for glimpses into your tortured terrine, stories of unplumbed eternity, depths of you, titillate. How more curious you become as onion peels, layers on layers. A sweet onion I might add. Yet still, one that brings tears. Tears, joyous tears, cliche of cliche, reconcile charm with burden of unknowing how an allium could come into a world, stinking, but make gourmet a dish.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 7:14 PM UTC
Lined with age in faded denim
Squinted eyes and jaded smile
Sauntering through dusty courtyard
Remembering back here awhile.
Sadness tugs me back to recall
Recall of that young girl when,
Laughingly she stood in denim,
Clear blue eyes which sparkled then.
Tragic how the years have jaded,
Criminal how time applies
A caustic pall to all that’s lovely,
Attitude and tearsome lies.
Wish that I could haul me back there
Roll me back to young and pure,
Pluck the innocence from history
Transit back where truth endured.
Transit back uncomplicated
Back to where it all began
Happy kids in dusty courtyard
Faded denim, making plans.
M.
April 1963
Cairns, Nth. Queensland
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 11:26 PM UTC
The simple
Uncomplicated
Unforced
Accepted
Movement of Spirit
The rising
The falling
Fullness
The gentleness
Of holy life
YOUR BREATH
-------
Imagine a
Lifeguard
(You)
Giving
Artificial respiration
To every human being
-----
Well
In
Truth
It is not imagination !
It is not artificial !
----
Now
Everyone that you inspire is doing the
Same
To you and to everyone!
--ENORMOUS--
The amount of power
The amount of **********
That is truly here
Truly possible
If we knew it
If we would not abuse it!
---
We must have TRUE KNOWLEDGE
TRUE WISDOM
ALL else is merely petty
A else
Is living in darkness
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 7:41 PM UTC
I am worn down, exhausted and depleted; tired of self.
I am torn down by the mediocrity of men and women that
cannot see the façade that blinds themselves and captures
their thinking, rendering them ineffective, therefore they lash out with
false perceptions, unwilling to embrace and acknowledge
the error that lies within their own garden of eden and deception locks
their tongues tightly choking out the very breath used to speak
hypocritically of others.
From the outside in I see myself standing in a crowded space
within “my being” and all of the chatter of endless voices critiquing
“the me inside of me” confuses and distorts my ability
to comprehend the distance and direction I should be traveling in.
I keep “bumping into myself many times over”
because self will not move out of my way
to allow me to gauge the time and distance it will take
to straighten my path.
I am stuck in the creases of my frown,
it being sometimes dark inside,
yet striving “upward” to a place of stability,
knowing that my end is “far yet to come”.
With instruments of humility leading me,
“something” within the interior of my mind
sands the walls of my thoughts down to clarity,
assisting me in an uncomplicated manner.
This allows me,
to perceive the portrait
of self, I have created, and
this complex dilemma I live in
forces me to embrace the contents of the “self perceived” reality around me,
making it easy…. and freely…for me
to “escape the abrasiveness” of the way
“I” see, ‘I” think about…and the way “I” judge myself
when it is not necessary…
©2013
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 6:32 AM UTC
Allow me to be bold- brave prying eyes and bare all. Allow me to tamper with excommunication- to tempt ostracism- to tease trouble by talking of taboos... speaking of shushed subjects- oh, society's little secrets, the ones we're all willing to share. Allow me to expound on the lessons parents never wanted to teach- the lessons children are so eager to learn. The very act- the very word- that induces giggles, inspires poets, excites lovers, and makes or breaks "true bliss."
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns." -V.N
*** a word constructed of three of the twenty-six letters that make the English language go round. On their own, quite harmless, but collectively- a jaw-dropping, blush-inspiring, shush-provoking combination. *** the ultimate caricature of love and all that is romantic- oh, just look at this tangle of thorns. Tangled- because we have turned the beauty into a beast- taken "the two will become one"- and rationalized- two will always be two- Not you, me or me, you. No, nothing bad can come of this.
*** used to make lies beautiful and truth obscured. Sold in society- the promoter of skin- condemned in the church- discouraged as sin. All the while, teenagers are toppling around- neck deep in lust- desperate to be loved- fumbling- tumbling into the open arms of the ultimate outlet. *** a shallow solution to a deeper problem- a gift given, unwrapped, re-wrapped, and given again. Allow me to attempt to untangle these thorns- when does making love become wrong?
When it makes heroes into harlots and turns the righteous into romantics- when it complicates the uncomplicated? When it manipulates insincerity to seem sincere- liberates itself from simple mathematics, why, the more the merrier, and forgets three's a crowd? Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, allow me to be ridiculed- expose myself as a hypocrite and define: It is when *** is misconstrued as a mere act of "love" that it becomes a crime.
Aug 1, 2010
Aug 1, 2010 at 3:18 PM UTC
I'm looking for some puppy love.
Some kitten, gerbil, guinea pig
love. Any kind of
unconditional love, really.
I'm looking for a place to rest.
Or to recharge, reboot, recoup
myself. A place to
regenerate my heart, really.
I'm looking for propinquity,
Or amity, ardency, affinity
for another. A form of
uncomplicated connection, really.
I'm looking for something else.
Something different, unusual,
extraordinary. Anything,
anyone but you, really.
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 9:47 AM UTC
Do you remember when love was uncomplicated
Hand-holding, lonely fingers grasping,
Longingly, perfecting their grip?
And do you remember the honeymoon
Highs, up and up, dizzily clambering up,
Exploring new horizons?
And do you remember, precisely, when love emerged,
From clouds of chalked up experiences,
Foreboding as a mountain,
Where lonely fingers grasped,
Longingly, for fresh hand-holds?
The quest for loves summit rises,
Peak to higher peak,
Each conquered height unveiling a new vista,
Revealing loves perilous truth,
That each peak is surpassed by two more
And the summit remains elusive.
The fool will climb up and up,
Leaving a devastated trail of overlooks,
Ever unsated,
Ever yearning,
Ever lonely.
The sage will make camp behind a large rock,
Still aware of the mountains hidden presence,
But settled with a lightness of heart,
To enjoy just one wonderful view.
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 8:44 AM UTC
*Gentle child sleeping in my chair,
Stay sweet your dreams, free from care,
Rest your head from weary day,
Exhaustion borne from adventurous play.
Gentle child with breath so soft,
Into deep slumber, you have been lost,
Knowing nothing of years to come,
A dreamy smile, you're rarely glum.
Gentle child resting free,
Cast adrift on your dream filled sea,
I wonder what thoughts fill your head,
Tho' I know your imagination is well fed.
Gentle child I hear you snore,
A man as child, yet only four,
You stir from slumber, look of surprise,
Confusion and beauty I see in your eyes.
Gentle child drifts back to sleep,
Your dreams they call you from the deep,
An uncomplicated life, youthful simpleness,
The greatest time, the age of innocence.
Cinco Espiritus Creation
October 2017
Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 12:42 PM UTC
You can only spend so many hours in labs, study groups and classrooms - under relentless, fluorescent lighting - before you start feeling life withdrawal.
When I hit that stresshold, I need to rebalance myself.
I could go to the New Haven harbor - I find the ocean endlessly relaxing - or for a quick fix, I can always rely on the warmth of multicolored product packaging.
For the last one, a grocery store will do. I’ll walk the bright, prismatic cereal aisle, and run my finger gently along the gratuitous, rainbowed variety of selections.
It’s a soothing gesture that I repeat several times. A reminder that there are still beautiful, shiny things out there, on demand, in the uncomplicated, non-academic world.
Feb 26, 2024
Feb 26, 2024 at 11:22 AM UTC
This bracelet
This bracelet means nothing, really
Just some plastic beads
Black thread
Uncomplicated knots with strings of offset orange, yellow, green.
It’s just a bracelet.
But it’s your bracelet.
Your bracelet.
The replacement for the blue one I lost in New York
The one I hated myself for dropping
But you never did
You just fixed it
And every time I see it,
It’s like I’m there with you again
My heart leaps from my chest
At it’s shining, vibrant face
Smiling at me like an old friend
Because that’s what we are
When I’m nervous, I twist the band
The beads click and dance and sing in my fingertips
I think of it like those ruby red slippers
Maybe if I click it enough times you’ll appear next to me
I wish that were how it worked
Wished the bracelet could talk me down
Off of this ledge of conclusions
But it can’t.
We will never be the same...
Unlike the bracelet.
Because when it comes together on my wrist,
Kissing the skin you used to
It feels like you
It feels like home
Oct 28, 2017
Oct 28, 2017 at 10:11 PM UTC
A secret among friends
Amongst myself
Since you know not how I feel
So here goes...
How I feel....
You're a flower
at first bloom
Quietly beautiful
Commanding nothing of no one
But sure of yourself
and your beauty
Needing nothing
from anyone
I'd give you the love
I share for you, if I could
Not that you need it,
But you deserve it,
For you are an amazing woman
Unappreciated I fear
You are
what a woman should be
confident, strong,
a diamond in the rough
Though not so rough
Quite refined, as I see
From my perspective
You are a perfect gem
Colorless (though colorful to me)
Cut (perfectly)
Clarity (uncomplicated unlike most)
In all your glory
In all your beauty
You are perfect to me
...melanie
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 2:23 AM UTC
Insomniac, dehydrated & approaching mid life crisis seeks:
true love, uncomplicated, that likes cats
Hobbies include: sleeping in the **** fishing for compliments
& making strange condiments
If you are interested please
reply below & leave your number
P.S : Must like quoting Hollywood movies
& walking on the Beach
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 10:07 PM UTC
Toys are scattered about the floor.
Robots and Dinosaurs attack plastic soldiers.
The Grandsons are enacting a ****** battle.
No one is safe! Not even Grandpa!
I've been killed, apparently,
by a flying super-robot that
knows no mercy!
I worry I won't be
playing with them next year.
Darkness all around the world.
Darkness all inside of me.
Whispers behind my back,
murmurs of pity, I think.
I still have much I can offer
to these boys.
Or so I'd like to believe.
I'm not ready to stop hugging them.
Telling them, again and again,
how important they are to me.
Little boys live in a special world.
A place of mud and sticks,
bugs and stones.
Imagination the
only rule they follow.
***** hands and faces,
bodies screaming
for a bath.
I understand this world.
It used to be the same one
I lived in before.
Ah dear Grandsons.
Will you miss me?
Will you think of me
in the middle of your
playing?
Will you feel me?
Grandfather lips
mouthing
"I love you."
Your hearts so innocent.
Lives so uncomplicated.
Neither of you understands
the concept of dying.
As it should be.
Stay this way as
long as you are able to.
The real world is a cold place.
A mixture of grieving and denial.
A faithless emptiness that
consumes the desire
to achieve.
Toys are scattered about the floor.
Robots and Dinosaurs attack plastic soldiers.
Dear God, how I wish this was
the only battle I was fighting.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 8:30 PM UTC
I find myself in full fantasy mode lately. I have a BF (who I saw a couple of weeks ago) and I’m not interrogating my romantic choices - but he’s not here.
Do I have an impulse to throw myself at that boundary? No, but I can steal a look, now and then, like a hotel souvenir - can’t I?
Yesterday morning, Lisa and I stopped at Steep, a coffee shop on science hill, to pick up something breakfasty. At one point the small shop filled with the aroma of apple pie and in my mind, I had a flash memory of this guy, Jordie, last fall, coming into this shop in his little Yale blue and white soccer shorts.
He’d looked fit. In memory, he seemed to move slowly, like individual video frames. There was an interesting, uncomplicated strength, something polished and fresh about him, like a shiny new phone.
“Here,” Lisa said, passing a coffee to me. Then she gave me a sly smile and a tilty-headed look, asking,
“Where’d you go? You looked like you were lost in some bliss.”
A guilt washed through me, as thin and unpleasant as cigarette smoke. The thought of telling her struck me like a slapping hand. Submitting this fantasy to a roommate focus-group seemed wrong.
The whole fantasy was bunkum anyway, an unimportant memory, mapped to a fragrance, as if his taut, tanned, muscular legs had significance.
“I was daydreaming,” I said, with an ‘I don’t know’ shrug and grimace.
(BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Bunkum: a foolish or insincere idea)
Jan 16, 2024
Jan 16, 2024 at 1:42 PM UTC
the dream of him
holding me, knowing me
the gentleness of his skin
pressing softly,
quietly against mine,
he fills me up with memory
of a wild deer
in a dark green stillness,
strength full of innocence
uncomplicated and free
Feb 1, 2011
Feb 1, 2011 at 1:32 AM UTC
I write tidy little poems
uncomplicated rhymes
to paint for you a picture
contained within its lines
I have no time for flowery words
or eloquent pretense
I write poems people talk about
over the garden fence
I don't try to be too clever
or try to be too flash
Because making out your better
just leads you to a clash
Like "who the hell does he think he is
speaking down like that to me
Some others may like what he says
but his words are not for me"
And thats not what I'm all about
I write to share a thought,
a feeling, an emotion,
hell I even write 'bout sport.
I write so people know
that in their thoughts they're not alone
to arrest those night time monsters
that in our minds have grown
A trouble shared is a trouble halved
or so they used to say
but in our disconnected lives
we don't communicate that way
So instead of just sitting there
haplessly afloat
Do yourself a favour
and read the stuff I wrote
Some of it is happy
and some of it is sad
and some of it may just be like
experiences you've had
And once you find that piece
read it, take it home
and sleep a little better now
knowing you are not alone.
May 7, 2010
May 7, 2010 at 8:05 AM UTC
Strength is found in the depth of pain, the place in which we all fear to face and struggle to remain unfamiliar with. When put in those moments and thrown into those obstacles, the body and mind have no choice but to react. We have the ability to train that reaction, to prepare ourselves for it.
What doesnt **** you makes you stronger, what makes you stronger makes you wiser and what makes you wiser prepares you - emotionally and physically.
When in tact with your own attitude and inner strength, you can build bridges larger than mountains and place them where ever needed.
Start building today, face your fears and flaws and get comfortable with that uncomfortable feeling. Sure, we can all live with the simplicity of an uncomplicated life - but where will we learn? Where will we grow? How will we know what to do when a burden is due?
Master your own weakness and watch how it grows into strength.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
Love makes everything-
Sweet uncomplicated Love.
Love just is...Sweet.
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 3:51 PM UTC
If you follow me, I will follow you
as appointee, and member of your crew
We can go for long walks, and drink beer in the den
have great and meaningful talks, contemplating zen
Do a regular bromance, or a romantic type of fling
*********** perchance? or some other kind of thing
Trailing on the path behind, like a type of fawning dove
friendship not defined, by a different kind of love
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 11:02 AM UTC
in the arms of a stranger, it's so long to 'how long,'
the ending-writ being composed in the arms of a stranger,
the surprise, the uncomplicated simplicity of a "yes, why not"
the normalcy of the out of the ordinary has a finery that's
abnormally kind in a peculiar way & a comfortable shiny finish of a cry and a 'whew,' a laugh, a pause, a kiss on the nose,
that's familiar from a who knows me, who knows where, a silence,
a kindness to pass the collection plate of stored memory genes now
kickstarted hot and then a transition to the here and now of
hysterically funny bad jokes, a beer and a wine, and a Samuel Barber adagio that seals some of the open wounds and one can't stop thinking, thank god for the little things, the big ones never get resolved anyway, so the arms of a stranger, the long neck, tan shoulders, the eyes culling a list of unasked questions, looking for the crease in the pauses and an entry point to the decision of crossing the river of no return from the security of being strangers, whose bodies sang a two part harmony coming to a closing, last call from the barkeep lady tossing you your pants with an
awshit and the widest Mississippi River grin you've ever seen
and she asks do you like steak and laughs when the response is "with extra sizzle and Heinz ketchup" and the answer means the other questions will keep, at least for now and until
the violin weeping of a chest breathing hard but slow on the device
has played thrice, and the arms of easy are now fraught with the scent of risk, when the next the line is crossed with a followup of
"fries or baked potato?"
and it's too late, the memory machine has started recording and what is truly strange is that you can't recall what the day of the week tomorrow will be and if you have any plans that must be kept and that doesn't seem to be of any concern of anybody in the immediate vicinity of the her who's unconsciously humming the wholly appropriate, interesting choice, best love song, that Dolly Parton ever wrote^
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 5:51 PM UTC
Mr Earth meets Madame Fire,
A stable man of intellect,
Charisma very much intact,
A logical fellow,
Manners of perfection noted,
Meditating on his issues,
Sometimes rather pessimistic,
Very sensual,
Rather ****** by design,
Tested waters thoroughly,
Before strolling into my bright light,
Not giving into love initially,
Can feel jealousy bite,
But **** he won't admit it,
There was another poet born on his special day,
Philip Levine,poetry must be written in the stars,
Madame Leo,
So dramatic,
Writes with mental pen of magic,
An uncomplicated soul,
Like him, She strives to be the best,
Loves to take central place in his affection,
Offers adoration as well as admiration,
This strong honest leader,
Likes to dominate,
With patience in care,
A masterpiece in passion,
This leonine lady will cross the ocean to find him,
So she can share her tender touch,
Whenever the time is right,
A four star combination with lots of light hearted love!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 5:12 AM UTC