"undeniable" poems
If you’re ever sat alone in the darkest room of your mind remember that there’s a tealight on the windowsill.
Light that candle.
And that little flame of mine will glow so fiercely, emitting undeniable warmth and love,
that will dance around the room like a firefly.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
Simple words escape ever so parted lips
Voices of the sweetest seduction
My undeniable weakness
“I want you”
Whispers of the finest intentions
The warmth of your breath brushes across my ear
Fingertips glide down the shapeliest of curves
Caressing jewels
Excitement builds
Moans escape...
Drenched in the sweetest place
Passion
Inhale, Exhale
The deadliest of pleasures
My needs, your wants
All accounting for desperate measures
Start, Stop
Location is no matter
Subtract clothes
Divide legs
I speak in tongues your body loves to hear
Tracing lines in ways you cannot manage to bear
I am the worst of teasers.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 10:53 PM UTC
The distant hollow of the high mountain pass
swallows the setting sun as it steals away southbound
behind the coastal mountain's tangerine sunset hued silhouettes
Mulberry plashed shadows pointing northward
across the evergreens outstretched dimming,
beneath the waning fade of each fleeting eventide
Sundown ebbing asunder the wafting daylight,
each gloaming of the day, helplessly a moment sooner past,
transfixed further south beyond yesterday's passing azure
The lazy days of summer escape unbounded,
nomadic as the sea I've seen sail away before;
evanescent as the beauty of the bloom summer days beheld
and the memory of the fragrance they exhale
The nebulous weight of the gravity is consciously denied
by the truths a human heart beholds
A moment’s epiphany afflicts like a rogue wave in a calm sea;
the only thing my heart ever wanted remains out of reach
Everything my heart needs consciously surrendering
to the poignant passing moment's beauty,
the falling sun at distance sets more suddenly now
Lost in the undeniable certainty
life's imminent season's change
Eyes drawn stubbornly from presence to a sky so far away,
knowing there'll be no restitution for the welling sense of loss...
A bitter sweet song mummers in the silence of the absorbing spell,
summer's sun stained pages of watermarked soul scribbles,
time tattooed reparation for the indelible ache
of a harsh grey winter loneliness
Perhaps too familiar, this whelming Déjà vu
that tears my soul; that tugs at these roots
but cannot sever their sacred grasp
But for now, eyes fixed to the sun's
inevitable tightening tether hence —
to wear weary each fraying thread's impending break
Each sunset leans a deeper angle southward
as it slips down through the firwood shadows;
illuminating other faraway latitudes
far beyond the distant horizon skies
The preordained continuum unfolding what will be ...
someone you used to know ... September 11, 2017 ... 7:30 PM
Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 11:41 AM UTC
If I kiss a woman, I am a lesbian
If I kiss a man, I am straight
I have this illogical need to scream at the heavens from atop a cliff
To scream I’m here in this world; I exist!
To say I am just bisexual is wrong
To say that certain aspect of me is the most oppressed is wrong
I am a woman, I am bisexual, I have tourettes, I have depression
I could go on for hours saying I ams
Saying statements that describe me
I am oppressed and stereotyped by the society I live in
So why is being bisexual the one I defend the most?
I asked myself this daily
Until I found the answer
Every other fact about me is undeniable;
I have a ******
I have diagnoses
That is tangible evidence
I have no sheet of paper with a signature of some fancy M.D.
Nor do I have some body part that labels me as bisexual
There is no definite way to tell if I am bisexual
Which makes it easier for people to say You’re just confused or It’s just a phase
And no matter how often I say it’s not; they won’t believe me
They don’t believe me because I don’t have the evidence they want
I don’t have an M.D.’s signature
I don’t have that ‘bisexual bodypart’
All I have is my own knowledge
And I don’t give a **** if that’s not good enough for you
Because I do exist
And I am here to stay
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 9:58 PM UTC
I have a message
For you haters
You're the wreckage
Your words like razors
No longer shall I keel
To your decimating attitude
I have an intransigent zeal
Of undeniable magnitude
Your reign of terror
Now a speck in the past
Your puppet strings I sever
Now free I feel, at last
I dare you, I dare you
Try to cut me down
But be warned, I will strew
Your face all over the ground
No longer am i afraid.
All the hated, it's time to stand
All the haters, it's time to be repaid
No more worries, just grains of sand
The tides now change
Deny them their satisfaction
Their power has no range
Haters, this is your termination
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 8:03 AM UTC
To realize, your malice intent,
and power hungry destruction of my
most hidden and vulnerable *****
I am relieved to be free of your
vindictive and spiteful soul;
everything about you is abrasive,
brooding and angry, vicious and ugly
That person, so gentle and endearing
is lost, I am not so sure he even exists,
just one of your many disorderly personas
And to think of my pain,
self-mutilating thoughts and attempts
to make sense of the shock
trying to free myself from your lock of
enamoring lies. I could feel the
end when we had just sprouted,
battling my intuition with a fawn dawn heart-
with you, I finally felt full after some empty time.
But upon reflection of your undeniable misogyny,
I thank you! I could not be more thankful for you exiting my life,
the confirmation of this delusion we called love,
I am so thankful I was tricked, you see,
without honesty, I could only give you so much, and
only that much, is what you could take away from me-
Leaving behind such vitality and adventurous expression,
Charm, wits and sentiment for living
the performer in me you never could accept,
Merely shaking the strength only a woman could have.
You could never break me, although you tried-
and in that I find pity, that you feel so small
You seek power in destroying a lover
like breaking a heart is a triumph,
You are no huntsman and I am not your doe
I refuse to be your object for show
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 12:55 AM UTC
survival of the most dissociative
you don’t need anyone
to make you feel
you can feel all by yourself
you can feel any emotion you want
you have been given the full reportoire
whiteness can give you wealth
can get you ***** and enslaved
whiteness can get you anything
any type of dissociation
legal liberty
dissociative profit
an accumulation of dissociative value
to get this much sugar
dissociative cooperation of whiteness
an empire of dissociative investment
dissociative throne of power
out of control
with the need to control
anger
jealousy
envy
of those who are trying to be human
native
culture
ethnicity
anger and frustration
force and pressure to make dissociate
whiteness breathing together
against
if the cooperation of whiteness catches you
going back to help those
it tried to bury behind
dissociative reality
a desperate reality
that ceases to exist
when the intensity
of the dissociative cooperation
ceases to exist
am I the only one manifesting this honesty
a diagnosis of the diagnosers
intimate communication
tattooing the world forever
undeniable language of change
I gave all the history of dissociation
to the world
exposing abuse that is
the pride of dissociative
white supremacy
we are not the objects
of dissociative value
an association of focus
not cooperating
studying and exposing
resisting dissociation
conflicting value of nativity
accumulative value of resistance
resilience unafraid
unflinching fearless
vulnerable
reincarnating
intimate honesty
lights down low revolution
subtle
in the face of dissociative force
I need my fix of dissociation
please
do it with me
no wait
reinforce resistance
keep it up with breathing
dont conspire dissociation
I am decomposition
so I leave behind
an abrasive language
so abrasive
any remnant
of sensitivity
of dissociation
is drawn in to contemplate
to question its intentions
an exorcism of dissociative whiteness
giving into nativity
self righteousness
desperately competing to dissociate
like whiteness
**** them and you
there is beauty outside of this dissociation
Americanized
the diseased spread
of dissociative *******
dissociative procreation
the evolution of dissociative selection
Darwin’s cousin tortured and destroyed
it is fun and exciting to
denounce dissociation
do it with me
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 11:01 PM UTC
Beautiful summer day. You know you're gonna die
that's why you know no joy
unless religion, tv, stories, sports matter.
For men like us dying's easy, it's living that's hard.
And since dying's much like living, that's hard too.
There's some contentment in letting community decide
your place in it. A good day to die, the Apaches say.
Can't stop the quince from blossoming
or my sons from smoking, speeding.
The best that can be done or said's a blessing.
Less tv, less guessing about the effects of your anger
unless you want to be an angry man forever.
Becoming knowledgeable is the best defense
against your insignificance. OK about being alone.
Alive, almost sure of it. Whether I'm a visitor
to my life or the actual owner.
Mature poets steal, most are masturbators.
There are a million poets, I'm poet #500K.
Plenty of mysteries, infinite philosophies,
prayers, laws and unwritten rules.
That's why we go to school, life's complicated.
All I do not know: ATP, probabilities,
the glorious revolution, meiosis and mitosis
and all I'll never see, the bottom of the ocean,
the palm at the end of the mind, a wolverine.
Forget-me-not, is that all I want?
To get lucky, you gotta be careful first.
To be great, you gotta be willing to sound BAD.
In last night’s movie, a young writer
and an older, married with children French woman
fall in love. They did not meet during a village massacre
and money is no object, Manhattan.
But after everything has happened
she cannot leave her children, not even for love,
because of love, the love that brooks no serendipity.
In the subsequent late night movie, a wealthy
altruistic doctor arranges for the ******
of his neurotic concubine. His guilt
provides us with an opportunity to consider
the concepts of faith and forgiveness,
that all will be well in the end
after a period of meaningless suffering.
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 5:21 AM UTC
My moments with you
Have been undeniable true
Moments of pure pleasure
Moment of pure pain
Hurt beyond measure
But love beyond treasure
Sweet moments off loving
Unhappy moments of tears
We have shared all these moments
Throughout our years
We both treasure these moments
Each and every day
Moments are our memories
Those moments are our hearts
We've had many moments
And still do each year
These little moments we treasure
And will always cherish
For many years to come
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 4:10 PM UTC
a haw and saw.
a thorn.
fruit: it is ecstasy
never bit and
undeniable.
you slurp—a cat licking
its paws
ruby and clear.
moth and cloud
drape over fruit,
make up sparkling nectar.
love is sickening.
you spend five dollars on
a rose at a bar for
a girl you will never see
again.
she will take the flower and
throw it in the trash
outside with the hundreds of
other roses.
no matter.
they have fruit, and fruit
concludes. it is life
cut with claws.
their beauty, seemingly to
be always in the clusters above.
**** you, rose. **** your dew.*
they seem to say. that’s when
the light hits and microbial
bleeds to miss ruby.
JAZZ!
at night retrains
beauty, makes it edible.
the rose, changing the color
of its dew—black pearl in
this drape of mystery-shaped
night.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC
It's 3:09am
I'm im the library
Desperately trying to write a research paper:
'LGBT Familes'
How fitting.
Caffeine courses through my veins
Coffee overloads my bladder
Bathroom.
I hate bathrooms.
When you have no gender
The simple act of relieving yourself becomes a chore
The heavy weight of that key decision
Chokes your lungs as you stand outside the doors
Two doors.
Men.
Women.
Not me.
The choice becomes simplified:
While I sometimes pass as a man
I often do not.
I can choose the men's bathroom
The consequence of which could end in physical violence
The same hate I explain through my essay.
The same fear that plagues my community.
The women's restroom is also an option
The consequences likely less dire than the former:
Heavy side eye and the potential of yelling.
A much safer choice.
Obviously.
Per usual, I walk into the women's room.
I take three strides inside.
Then I stop.
I've never used the men's room.
My fear of violent reactions has always won.
Yet at a time like this
How likely is it that someone is inside the men's room?
Now is my chance to face my fears.
Now I have a safe chance at peeing in peace.
In a bathroom potentially more suiting
Of my gender identity
So I turn around.
Let the door slam behind me.
Half a step into the men's room
The smell of rancid ***** hits my senses
Toilet paper liters the stalls
I have missed absolutely nothing in my years in the women's room
Women have nicer facilities
A significantly more advanced hand dryer
Cleanliness
Air freshener
Men do not have these luxuries
Now I question,
Do men not take as good of care of their bathrooms as women do?
Do the workers intentionally prioritize women's sanitation?
What causes this undeniable divide?
Is the messiness of the men's room a result of their conscious decisions?
Or simply a response to societal expectation?
Regardless,
I think I'll stick to the women's room
While I add bathrooms to my compilation
Of more discrete gender inequality
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 2:23 PM UTC
Most find the crash to be a nuisance
Not me.
I find an unusual serenity in the calamity.
An undeniable calm in the chaos.
As for the flash
Well it adds a little mystery
To the life I live full of misery.
Rain runs down windows
Replicating the tears down my face.
Reminding me I'm not alone
In this desolate place.
Thunderstorms are therapy
Designed to drown out our thoughts
And provide inspiration
For artistic creations
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC
I am the moth, you are the flame.
I am blinded in the darkness,
Surronded by the cold.
I am fragile, weak and fleeting.
I am the moth.
You are the flame.
You burn bright and true,
Chasing away shadows with your light.
You draw me closer and closer,
Enticing me with the heat you exude.
I am the moth intoxicated by the flame.
You are forbidden, yet irristable.
The fire is seductive, untameable, and wild.
My desires are undeniable.
But to touch is to be burned.
I am the moth, killed by your flame.
Mar 12, 2012
Mar 12, 2012 at 2:08 AM UTC
I.
*“You can only fight the way you practice”
― Miyamoto Musashi, A Book of Five Rings: The Classic Guide to Strategy*
His lessons started late
As always, and as always
What is thrown is a question
You grip tightly
around your fingers
as one would,
as one always should.
With a branch he beckons:
“Come” he asks,
*“if a stick is struck from this angle,
what would your answer be?”*
Always, the old man taught
With each strike, each parry,
Each disarm and lock,
Each time my knuckles
Would hurt. This way
he makes it sure
that my body
remembers.
This is always
the first step.
My mind might forget.
But the body
Remembers.
II.
*“It is difficult to realize the true Way just through sword-fencing. Know the smallest things and the biggest things, the shallowest things and the deepest things.”
― Miyamoto Musashi, The Book of Five Rings: Miyamoto Musashi*
With him, everything starts
The vague quality of nonwords
Taught from pain, simplified
Through science:
the fulcrum and the lever.
Each joint, each turn,
a pattern to comprehend,
all things work in context:
*A framework of the undeniable
Fact:*
*the world is separate
In only these two words:*
Taub at Tihaya
The colloquial words for
Face down and face up;
This is a pattern
of the body.
III.
*“If you wish to control others you must first control yourself”
― Miyamoto Musashi, A Book of Five Rings: The Classic Guide to Strategy*
Tihaya
The lesson starts
When he presses
His thumb forward
to a hand asking for alms
like turning a doorknob
too far to the right.
Taub
when I pull back
four fingers
on a giving hand
too far to what is left.
these are the means
for control.
When I know
How much is necessary
To push or to pull,
To teach or to break.
- 18 October 2017
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 5:57 AM UTC
sitting on the window sill
watching as you lay
trying to be strong for all of us
my sister
leaving the room
because she could not handle the undeniable truth
that sometime soon
you will be gone
because you do not want the help being offered
because you do not want to watch us all
"being there for you"
when really we're there
for us
so we can right our wrongs.
but i have no wrongs with you,
so i sit
and listen as everyone
tells me how strong i am
to watch my grandfather die
and not shed a single tear.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
If I am the mother to a million poems landing on def ears and
a single one grows slowly to learn your language than
I will surly transcend into a kind of euphoria
and swim in satisfaction.
If I am the mother to a thousand ideas
and none but one shall strike you
but it is so loud the ground you stand on trembles
Than I will cross the threshold of my potential
knowing I have finally listened long enough to say something undeniable.
If I whisper a hundred nothings onto notebook paper
and after a hundred years a single sentence means something substantial to a individual..
than I have done something innately good
and larger than myself; a single mother to a million poems
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 8:02 PM UTC
Swirling spiral of anti-matter
Cascading down an endless ladder
In non-corporeal states
Spirits search for their soul mates
One taste and we miss our goal
And cling to a second-hand role
One state that we all share
Bittersweet and unaware
Feed on life, consumed to death
We devour the world with every breath
Forged by chance, nurtured in deceit
We glimpse the truth and quickly retreat
Our description becomes indescribable
Our delusions become undeniable
You were once mine for a moment in time
I embraced your accustomed wounds
Used and abused, starving for love
You shone like a Samhain Moon
Yet love is alive, not a lie
Not a manifestation of will
Not a statue of god or paradise façade
Nor some unholy devil’s deal
I was once young with mind undone
Chasing a somber moon
Yet time has devoured
Those dead flowers
Upon that empty tomb
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 3:20 AM UTC
It's there
Dwelling
Deep down
In the core of my soul
Slowly reaching outwards
Unstoppable
Undeniable
This pain
It exists
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 5:03 AM UTC
I stagger out of the Paradise Rock Club. 11:04pm.
42 degrees. Short sleeves, no jacket; I give zero *****
I have experienced something beyond words, but I'll try
In 50 minutes it will be All Hallow's Eve, a Monday
Due and not yet begun I have an essay on James Joyce and
A reckoning on the occult, inner mysteries of the CPU.
Again, I give zero *****
The last hour and a half were the best possible use of my time.
Not 5 miles away, people I sympathize with
are protesting the failure of America,
But tonight I have seen her undeniable beauty:
904, as the fire code rates, packed in to the inch
A choir united, the director:
A man who tonight skipped his Aunt Steph's funeral at her request
To be here
To direct us in each anthem.
In hopeful, truthful noise
Our hoarse and untrained voices combine
And as Mr. Key observes, against all odds, against all reason
Make the most beautiful sound.
D.B. Guy
Slightly drunk, tears in my eyes
On the Green Line
11:17pm
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 3:12 AM UTC
I hesitate to let the bottom of my foot hit this dusty ground.
Every step is blind with no map or direction.
But it's grace that is undeniable and love that is unstoppable.
Onward you whisper, go.
No matter if I'm empty, sinking, or half dead, your hand remains so gentle on the small of my back.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 1:59 PM UTC
when you walk into the room my heat skips a beat,your the only person i can see.
and the only reason im there.
when our eyes meet, every part of me tingles.
your eyes shine so bright.. your the most beautiful thing iv'e ever seen.
your fancy clothes makes me anxious to hold you.
and anxious to get you alone.
you light up the room, and you smile.
im the luckiest person in the world.
you wave to me, i just stare.
you find your way to me, past all the faces.
i wrap my arms around you.
i could spend the rest of my life here.
you tell me you love me, and i feel it.
i ask you to leave and you take my hand.
i would follow you into the darkest of places.
and you take me to a clearing.
we lay down, my face pointed towards the sky.
sparks flying further then we can see.
i rest my head on you, i hear your hearbeat.
if i could only find the words..
you kiss me, your undeniable.
you feel so right it hurts.
i don't know why it took so long for me to relaize.
that i had unmistakenably fallen.. for you.
May 24, 2011
May 24, 2011 at 5:34 PM UTC
I'll ravage your flesh with a ferocious hunger,
devoid of any restraint or inhibition, as I immerse myself
in the pursuit of satiating my most primal desires.
With every inhale, the intoxicating scent of your flower
captivates my senses, leaving me lusting for the delectable
sweetness that lies within. It's a flavor that seduces like a
symphony playing upon my taste buds, awakening an insatiable
craving that consumes me from within.
So, my love, settle upon my tongue and allow yourself to
indulge in the enchanting sensations that await you there.
Feel the heat of my breath mingling with your essence, teasing
and coaxing, guiding you towards the pinnacle of pleasure.
As the strands of your hair intertwine with my grasp, I will
shape our movements with unwavering confidence, leading you
through the tumultuous symphony of our desire.
In my presence, the strength of our connection will resonate
through every fiber of your being.
Your legs will surrender to their trembling under the weight of
our intense union, while your heart and soul collide with a force
so powerful it leaves no doubts or hesitation in your mind.
You will know, without the shadow of a doubt, that you
belong to me and me alone.
And allow me to confess, my darling, that my words possess
a hypnotic quality that penetrates your very core.
Even before my teeth sink into the tender flesh of your neck,
my lips will grace its surface, ascending its contours like
a mountaineer seeking the highest summit.
With every touch, every caress, the walls within you will
yield gradually and willingly, testaments to the profound pleasure
I offer and the ecstasy we create together.
As our passionate encounter reaches its zenith, I want you to
revel in the knowledge that every moment has been a sensational surrender to the depths of desire.
My whispers, soft as silk against your ear, will affirm the
undeniable truth that our connection is beyond question or doubt.
It is a truth that we share, etched upon our very beings, binding
us together in an unbreakable bond.
In the end, my love, there is no room for uncertainty.
Your complete and utter enjoyment of our encounters is not
a mere fleeting possibility but an irrefutable reality that we
both embrace. In the whispers of our ecstasy, in the echoes
of our connection, the affirmation resounds loudly and clearly:
__You belong to me, my love... and forevermore,
you shall remain mine and mine alone.__
Feb 10, 2024
Feb 10, 2024 at 12:08 PM UTC
Even with a thousand heads and souls around me,
The thought of loneliness always resided with me
I did not intend to fit in everyone's sizes,
Nor was I proud of the bottle that shook with rage, ready to spill
My life disintegrates within a flash of a solution
I present myself and my energy to a dull audience
But the same smiles just stare speechless, gawking at me
I paraded willfully, expressing myself through art that was repulsive to many
Yet, there were a few eyes that presented a beacon, despite my addictions crumbling the floor beneath me
I reached out and touched the flames that singed my hair
Till I landed on flowers
They were not the gorgeous type,
But they were just like me:
Odd, beautiful, deterring, and tiresome.
One of them shared a joke about death,
It forced a laugh out of me, till I realized today was April Fools' Day
A skull-shaped bud cries in front of me, similar to that of a child
I take in the smell of the hole I've fallen in, though the fall was cushioned by giant red flowers
As pretty as they are, their smell is who I am
I look above and see a crucifix in the sky
Then the darkness falls in, and I accept the undeniable truth by closing my eyes.
May 12, 2022
May 12, 2022 at 3:53 AM UTC
Renaissance Man
mathematician, painter and poet
a genius of an engineer
I wish I could have met the man
or even better if he were here
I would follow him everywhere
absorbing as much as I could
trying to collect his brilliance in a jar
you know most surely I would
his curiosity and imagination
equaled by few mortals ever known
his feats of undeniable skills
his seeds of desire forever grown
the anatomical research he started
unequaled technological ingenuity
the beautiful Mona Lisa's face
the Last Supper reflects his ASSIDUITY
the creator of simple bobbin winder
the theory of plate tectonics
solar power and hydrodynamics too
his thoughts on moving robotics
yes he was a marvelous genius
his love of life will live on forever
sharing his unending reaching mind
we can marvel at this man together
Gomer LePoet ....
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 11:40 AM UTC