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"untangible" poems
It rhymed, it seemed sensible Although maybe reprehensible Because it didn’t quite make sense, Questions with no answers Intensifying with the questioning But never mentioning any answers Just mysteries but no attempts To justify What was being said, The page being fed with more words read felt and heard before But never quite sure what it was trying to say It carried on anyway, It rhymed because it seemed sensible But it was questionable whether it Had any meaning, A room with no floor but walls and a ceiling What? Are you sure you’re not looking at it Upside down? Surely it’s more appealing The other way round, Less falling into nothingness The ceiling as a floor would be best Or spinning really fast so you can’t quite fall Because it catches you, Hopefully no nails from pictures In the walls Because it scratches you Spinning round In a room With no windows watching you. Butterscotch table for two… What? It doesn’t make sense, But for recompense it rhymes I said that already I know But I need certain lines In there because, Well… You know why. Ladders wrapping like snakes around the branches of Trees That could be climbed unappeased Were it not for nonsense The cycle repeating over time Not pleasing but feasible reasoning untangible But more manageable Like conditioned hair More easy to bare The sense that the Dense trees of time As they climb entangled with ladders like snakes Or vines in their hair Mangled They don’t make much sense They just rhyme. That’s just life. And that’s fine. What?
0
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 9:03 AM UTC
It Doesn't Make Sense, It Just Rhymes
It rhymed, it seemed sensible Although maybe reprehensible Because it didn’t quite make sense, Questions with no answers Intensifying with the questioning But never mentioning any answers Just mysteries but no attempts To justify What was being said, The page being fed with more words read felt and heard before But never quite sure what it was trying to say It carried on anyway, It rhymed because it seemed sensible But it was questionable whether it Had any meaning, A room with no floor but walls and a ceiling What? Are you sure you’re not looking at it Upside down? Surely it’s more appealing The other way round, Less falling into nothingness The ceiling as a floor would be best Or spinning really fast so you can’t quite fall Because it catches you, Hopefully no nails from pictures In the walls Because it scratches you Spinning round In a room With no windows watching you. Butterscotch table for two… What? It doesn’t make sense, But for recompense it rhymes I said that already I know But I need certain lines In there because, Well… You know why. Ladders wrapping like snakes around the branches of Trees That could be climbed unappeased Were it not for nonsense The cycle repeating over time Not pleasing but feasible reasoning untangible But more manageable Like conditioned hair More easy to bare The sense that the Dense trees of time As they climb entangled with ladders like snakes Or vines in their hair Mangled They don’t make much sense They just rhyme. That’s just life. And that’s fine. What?
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63
I am not a fancy poet. I do not use intricate words or phrases to catch the eye or ensnare the senses. When I write, it is not to elicit attention from an inquisitive audience, or gain fame. I write to simply ***** my thoughts, in untangible notes and scribbles, and hope it can conjure some sort of peace in my mind. I share my poetry, for the hope that perhaps, you too can relate to me and free your mind, while we both try to make some sort of sense out of my word *****
0
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
Word *****
He sat fogging up the glass by the window pane Watching the aftermath of a great white storm and as he sipped his hot cup of tea He remembered his youth with his bride lucy When they were fresh healthy and bright They'd sit by the fire on a cold winters night and cherish the time spent in laughter drinking wine But oh my friend how time goes by Lucy's hair had changed it was as white as the snow and her laughter had change into untangible moans and Lucy couldnt remember those old fiery nights Lucy was always confused and full of fight No matter what the doctors say The man waits for that very special day When Lucy turns red blushing with smiles and says Oh my Love remember when...
0
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC
Dementia
Where are you in this midnight sky? as not too long from here your lips grazed mine Chanel Rouge Allure ever lasting remains. I still have traces of tram marks left by Vamp Rouge Noir nails and I trace your soul on each & every scratch. You winked as you left you said in such guileful ways you must know I always come back you just never know how long it'll be. For as predictable as we are - a pair of boomerangs knowing we'll always be reunified by powers far greater than us - we never know when or how, even why. Where are you in this midnight sky? if I count the times my missing you is felt, it's as futile as ******* for virginity.* The mere distance between you & I -untangible, immeasurable. For as long as our souls inevitably bounce back, that time, that space in star filled nights & crescent moon skies become a vacuum of all lost or loved. Every time we meet our halogen balloon hearts *rise rise rise* & in a time span unfathomable sinking Velociously. © Sia Jane
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Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 8:48 PM UTC
Star gazer
The more poetry I read The more air I fill my lungs with to yell out the words as a tribute to one of the most beautiful artforms I discover No words are good enough to convey true feeling Words will own belittle it, make out of the world emotion seem less, make incredibly untangible things grab able. But you can’t stand with a feeling in your hands - yes, that was a metaphor And the art of poetry is trying too belittle it as little as possible. A mission to describe something indescribable with words as your only tool. Explaining something you don’t truly know what is or feel is hard. People don’t feel the same way or share same emotions. Even every single human experiences love in different forms, different emotions. How do you communicate your version, so that it can be understood? Poetry and the spoken word should never be forgotten, but praised. Let us show the world it is not an old dusty artform but an innovative reflection of today’s world.
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Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 1:11 PM UTC
An Ode to the Power of Words
music is many things it is invisible untangible nonexistent but so powerful coursing through your veins with every beat with every measure emotions, spilling through the air butterflies, soaring through your soul it's aggressive and loving it's violent and gentle it's painful and soothing it's hideous and beautiful it's me it's you it's all of us music is we are seperate unique alone but one.
0
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 10:50 AM UTC
butterflies
My thoughts could be beautiful if not so skewed untangible things in very lucrative views unhappy me meets quite happy you & the cycle continues as we make ourselves lose The day could never do the job of the night it would ***** all the time about never getting things right always lookin' in the dark never findin' the right keys to a door that's unlocked but still won't open for me If only the cat had a more noble speech maybe then he, could talk sense to me and maybe i'd listen whole-heartedly for once in my god **** life i'd listen to the cat speak and take what he means about the good and the bad or the wise and the lost and understand that he sees what he wants to see because he's a god **** cat but that's fine with me.
0
Dec 11, 2011
Dec 11, 2011 at 12:24 AM UTC
The cat
I live vividly without visibly having the ability to live willingly nor the versatility to fight your volatility. Unequivocally I believe in relativity but unofficially I use negativity as a means of self-sufficiency. Naturally I have a proclivity towards acting predictably when publicly judging turbidity. Additionally I hide in anonymity and indignantly ignore my epiphany of the asymmetry of unanimity. Shamefacedly I turn to your intricate dystrophy and observe the futility of my soliloquy. I can' find nobility in dying deliberately, but it shows efficiency in skimming humanity. Initially my hostility was untangible but it has suspiciously aquired solidity and is now intermittently sending signs of my eccentricity. My alkalinity is running low because surreptitiously the pungency has grown. I am undoubtedly peripheral to the society and irresistibly disposable in the industry of this idiosyncrasy.
0
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 5:50 AM UTC
Felicity Deficiency
A true beauty is never forgotten It stays in the covert closet of our soul unattended spoiled rotten while we go outside build millions of buildings burn millions of trees A true beauty is always instantly sold for a price too big for convertibles but too small for make-ups When girls put it on something is changed something is lost in a split second We are touched but eternally never moved A true beauty could be as untangible as a sparkle in the air we laugh but we don't know why Once I thought i had found it during a fight with a dog in a dark alley Another time when a girl said no but looked me in the eye for so long i forgot who i was In an apocalypsed world the true beauty will finally reveal itself Survivors keel down in front of it the chosen ones crooning chanting relishing their reward For that moment we understand the value of death and eternity then a million ****** in the remnants of civil society in everything that glowed every corner that denied every discourse that faded to reminisce the passing of a million trees For that this unforeseeable future I'm grateful To sift through a million false beauties tortured convoluted i'm still looking waiting for the sign a sign concealed in that minute dance of wrinkles on your face a dance that contains a million years of evolution and some day somewhere in that divinely lit shopping mall of royalty of ancient colours of trivial romantic tragedies you will see me after seeing a million others you will be touched and moved and time will forever pause for us for i have found it the sign of a true beauty in your glimpse
0
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 10:28 PM UTC
True Beauty
A true beauty is never forgotten It stays in the covert closet of our soul unattended spoiled rotten while we go outside build millions of buildings burn millions of trees A true beauty is always instantly sold for a price too big for convertibles but too small for make-ups When girls put it on something is changed something is lost in a split second We are touched but eternally never moved A true beauty could be as untangible as a sparkle in the air we laugh but we don't know why Once I thought i had found it during a fight with a dog in a dark alley Another time when a girl said no but looked me in the eye for so long i forgot who i was In an apocalypsed world the true beauty will finally reveal itself Survivors keel down in front of it the chosen ones crooning chanting relishing their reward For that moment we understand the value of death and eternity then a million ****** in the remnants of civil society in everything that glowed every corner that denied every discourse that faded to reminisce the passing of a million trees For that this unforeseeable future I'm grateful To sift through a million false beauties tortured convoluted i'm still looking waiting for the sign a sign concealed in that minute dance of wrinkles on your face a dance that contains a million years of evolution and some day somewhere in that divinely lit shopping mall of royalty of ancient colours of trivial romantic tragedies you will see me after seeing a million others you will be touched and moved and time will forever pause for us for i have found it the sign of a true beauty in your glimpse
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65
when a sense of thought leaks into the mind and I observe the father let go of his children in the morning and it shoots something so warm through my skin. everyday you subconsciously fore+get more of the past that you have seen. what counts as experience, is it that of which we see or does imagination intertwine with this story we call life. our sight before us does not differ with our internal visions, nothing is tangible when one stays silent. those people you pass in the street have eyes of their own but what have they thought of what do thy do where do they go after we lock eyes for second. people don't age matter just progresses and stars fly further and move over and we age to become lesser humans in society we age to become relics of a vision that we once had and when we age too well all that of which we see will disappear in atoms. are memories also molecules of atoms. how does one retain a memory in a cell. its an energy a force that consumes us. we spend an untangible number on matter that we feel will drive us further to happiness or to survive. within hours the moments you think are present fade into seconds that will never repeat. in a second, one scene of the world occurs infinite actions are composed at once by infinite minds. all this world is are minds with a vision. relity is not tangible its a thought its an image we face when we awake what if we don't awake. dreams are only as real as the present just close your eyes. master the means of the universe the atoms the matter the dust that you are made of and the years you have came from
0
Nov 23, 2020
Nov 23, 2020 at 6:06 PM UTC
glitch in the simulation
when a sense of thought leaks into the mind and I observe the father let go of his children in the morning and it shoots something so warm through my skin. everyday you subconsciously fore+get more of the past that you have seen. what counts as experience, is it that of which we see or does imagination intertwine with this story we call life. our sight before us does not differ with our internal visions, nothing is tangible when one stays silent. those people you pass in the street have eyes of their own but what have they thought of what do thy do where do they go after we lock eyes for second. people don't age matter just progresses and stars fly further and move over and we age to become lesser humans in society we age to become relics of a vision that we once had and when we age too well all that of which we see will disappear in atoms. are memories also molecules of atoms. how does one retain a memory in a cell. its an energy a force that consumes us. we spend an untangible number on matter that we feel will drive us further to happiness or to survive. within hours the moments you think are present fade into seconds that will never repeat. in a second, one scene of the world occurs infinite actions are composed at once by infinite minds. all this world is are minds with a vision. relity is not tangible its a thought its an image we face when we awake what if we don't awake. dreams are only as real as the present just close your eyes. master the means of the universe the atoms the matter the dust that you are made of and the years you have came from
Continue reading...
4