"verbage" poems
We are absurd
You and I
Fragments
We have created a fermentative reality,
Where words are symbols of relation
That you and I falsify
And Bingo was his name-o!
Ah!
Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon
What do you mean?
And how shall we bargain?
And mora is but a half step to a whole
Eek gad!
January Febuary March and April
May I introduce you to June and July
August, Sept Oct Nov Dec
Randomly systemized organs organized
Abstract or… dissonant?
But who is in charge?
12345
12345678
12345
12345678
12344
12344556
12344
12344556
“Why so serious?” said The Riddler
Mellow dramatic
Melodrama
Melancholy
Pantomimes!
Pantomimes EVERYWHERE!
They are able to speak
But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?”
Together we fall!
United I stand.
Backwards
Upside down
Inside out
And grammar
What’s in a name?
Please don’t be lame
Sarcastic and the glamour
Synonymous nonsense
Homophones and nyms
Where are the polysemes?
In the antonyms
In the antonyms!
Repitition
Exclamation
Annunciation
tions…
verbage verbage verbage
syllables and such
meaningless meaning
defining definitions with such
True or False?
Hide and Seek
Ring around the rosy
We all fall down…
We all fall down.
Black hat, white shoes, and I’m red all over.
Salt
Sour
And bitter
And dill
And
And
And
And
And
And
Ampersand
Institutionalized poetry
But I am for rhythmic prose!
No, not you
Listen to the hue
that the colors protrude
red green blue
red green blue
Black is not a color
Chrome is my favorite
I will not believe otherwise
You are an alien.
I have divided by zero
Musical dissonance
*(asterisk)
A beautiful disaster
A shadow without its owner
Wild natured wilderness
And naturally a wildcard.
**** **** **** **** ****
Etcetera.
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 7:08 AM UTC
We are absurd
You and I
Fragments
We have created a figmentative reality,
where words are symbols of relation
that you and I falsify
And Bingo was his name-o!
Ah!
Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon
What do you mean?
and how shall we bargain?
And mora is but a half step to a whole
Eek gad!
January Febuary March and April
May I introduce you to June and July
August 28th
Sept Oct Nov Dec
Randomly systemized organs organized
Abstract or… dissonant?
But who is in charge?
12345
12345678
12345
12345678
12344
12344556
12344
12344556
“Why so serious?” said The Riddler
Mellow dramatic
Melodrama
Melancholy
Pantomimes!
Pantomimes EVERYWHERE!
They are able to speak
But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?”
Together we fall!
United I stand.
Backwards
Upside down
Inside out
And grammar
What’s in a name?
Please don’t be lame
Sarcastic and the glamour
Synonymous nonsense
Homophones and nyms
Where are the polysemes?
In the antonyms
In the antonyms!
Repetition
Exclamation
Annunciation
tions…
verbage verbage verbage
syllables and such
meaningless meaning
defining definitions with such
True or False?
Hide and Seek
Ring around the rosy
We all fall down…
We all fall down.
Salt
Sour
And bitter
And dill
And
And
And
And
And
And
Ampersand
Institutionalized poetry
But I am for rhythmic prose!
No, not you
Listen to the hue
that the colors protrude
red green blue
red green blue
Black is not a color
Chrome is my favorite
I will not believe otherwise
You are an alien.
I have divided by zero
Musical dissonance
Asterisk*
A beautiful disaster
A shadow without its owner
Wild natured wilderness
And naturally a wildcard.
**** **** **** **** ****
Etcetera.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 12:26 AM UTC
A moment’s inspiration to grasp a building thought,
A panicked, surged excitement, now achieved, where once was naught.
In plucking crystal thought from the yonder crisp, blue air,
And coalescing mishmash into meaningful repair.
To seek a path of verbage realigning phrases bright
And feel the resurrection of creative works this night.
In pulling rich vocabulary from within the concrete hash
Concocting circumspection in this brilliant verse from trash.
Annunciating clarity and a purity of class
To haul yourself, abruptly, to get off your lazy ****
To burst forth in immaculate and spontaneous wordage clear
And blithely blow away your critics on their loathsome, leering ear.
Marshalg
11 September 2013
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 12:10 AM UTC
I have been told since I
learned to read
that holding someone close
says I love you with my
heart inside my body inside my head.
she said "fall in love with someone
who's comfortable with your silence."
and still,
I only find you in the dark
crushing my toe on your frame
the scratched black nail in the morning
shines like the love I gave was too
loud and bright, so blinding
that you sank behind the sun
as I played "She loves me,
She loves me Gordian not"
with the sword rays.
splayed across my tongue.
the razor-blade foreplay
was violent enough to carnage
your room to a crime scene wrapped
yellow tape package CAUTION
you yelled with the nothing CAUTION
do not cross do not cross do not cross
you fake messiah
you save yourself savior complex
of a narcissist, drowned in his own pool
of backlogged traffic jam verbage
living with a rearview mirror in every room
especially our bed.
I find myself
with arms wrapped too tight
around a precious thing,
screaming until the spit sling blade
found every secret place inside your ear
and carved it to echo the only word
I have ever really known
ME
ME
ME
ME
ME
ME
MYSELF AND EVERYTHING INSIDE ME
living with a rearview mirror in every room
especially the ones you're in.
especially when you are too quiet
to be anything but a noisemaker
in my cavern of a head
filled with my own claps
singing my own song
playing by my own rules
until everything I knew of you was
dust and shivers in the mist.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 2:30 PM UTC
For some reason,
reason fails me...
It says I should start this verbage,
with a single word...
arrogance.
Not quite sure why,
But you know what?
I'm not going to try
to understand why that is.
Ok,
I lied
I am.
Is it because of the rally?
Or because of the drama?
Is it because of the family?
Or is it because of the girls?
Not quite sure,
don't really care...
Just thought I would say
that I was supposed to start this
with a single word.
Arrogance.
Apr 17, 2011
Apr 17, 2011 at 10:26 PM UTC
15 to 20 times a day, with minor variation,
I review these questions, via oration.
"Do you hear voices?"
"Do you see visions?"
"Are you paranoid?"
"Are you suicidal?"
"Are you homicidal?"
"How is your energy level?"
"How is your mood?"
"Depressed?"
"Anxious?"
"Irritable?"
"Mood swings?"
"How is your concentration?"
"How is your appetite?"
"How are you sleeping?"
"Do you have racing or disorganized thoughts?"
"Do you have shaking or tremors?"
Reviewing meds, assessing situations,
Discussing reactions, discussing relations.
Monotony could well become a factor,
I'm easily bored, easily distracted,
But every single time I ask these questions,
I learn something new and think up a suggestion.
Everyday is the same, Going through the motions,
And yet, I'm never bored, and I have a notion.
Everyone is different, No answer the same,
Sorting through the verbage, looking for that grain.
The single detail to tell me what can be done,
To find a better system to assist each one.
Slow and methodical, and yet amazing in variation,
Questions and answers, a myriad of striation.
Oct 15, 2010
Oct 15, 2010 at 3:13 AM UTC
Emergent and forming I feel a storm is imploring that soon without any warning you beg to cross a line
Every time, nothing is sacred but sacramental complacence is marked as roles of the shameless
Mean to skip a line another time? Is this too rough and obtuse for a cutie like you to boost the power line?
Number 9, completion is power and stricken chords every hour proceed to timeline devour those daily entities
I do decree that opposition to me is free and withered beatings to meetings, detours and dealings
understanding demands of variable plans is held by the hand that feeds the depleted need
I see it from every angle, the tangle, the multishifted frame though it dangles, I can't be stuck in my own head when
I see the reflections of me in the treasure it jangles, brings into focus where my head fell to float in the
moments set to wrangle, pull it in, dwell upon the good and discard where it hampers new fangled notions like
truth effusions of love and devotion are swallowed up in the daily ocean of noise traffic, the more verbose,
Graphic dispatches matches blasted disasters dashed and rash past distractions amass magic attacks balanced
Secular motion entwined with metaphysical potions, divided what is your quotient? It doesn't add up in this
moment.
Interpersonal, intergalactic, universal assertions disturbed by verbage of outrance
Message mismanaged mischief mallaeble mayhem managed maganamously mallicous mannered when I
would proclaim them. Members materialized meriting masturbatory movements and monetized
malappropriation I have no patience nor pathos for indiscriminant egos demonstrating a tangent as canon and
paralyzing progressions toward psychic visions of heaven, eyes as the cosmos, and pressures upended.
I'll cope with associations disastrous and tainted, but keep in my visage all that scratches my lenses
I know far too much to be content with the situation, but far too little to shatter falsehood's intitiation
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:53 AM UTC
No one has ever taken a chance with me
Some have danced with me
But most are quick to be real slick
And change their stance with me
Fake people making noise
And playing games
Calling names, pointing fingers
And placing blame
Little realize
While they're fixed on displacing shame
All this nonsense stays constantly
Suspended through my veins
They burst open with the worst notions Contorted emotions to mass explosions
Like mixing large proportions of gasoline
Fire driven moths-to-flames
And my response is to conjure
Create, contemplate, and maintain
So please run along and carry on
Like you never knew my name
Because saying it will curse you
When you mention it in vain
Don't react or erupt like 'this' was abrupt When you never said 'this' to my face
Don't act surprised or try to hide it
Like you missed it or tried to fight it
Like you have any right to deny it
Now that you've finally been erased
I'm tired of all the back-thens
And back-whens
You're a has-been, and I'm laughing
Coming out of the woodwork
Some leaving without a trace
Like a blank space could ever replace
Everything you didn't make work
In the end we didn't mend
So I guess I wasn't worth it
At best we could jest, try to forget
Let's say that I deserve it
I wasn't perfect and then again
I'm not a ******* servant
Should I reword it?
Use different verbage?
Change my perspective respective
Of your verdict on the time spent?
I wouldn't know
Because you never showed
And I'm too busy living in ('this') moment
Jun 20, 2019
Jun 20, 2019 at 6:48 AM UTC
The fools have spoken of the
Blessing of insanity as they
Stand without- gazing in through
The impenetrable glass walls to
Where I lay
Naked
Cold
Alone
To have the blessing of ignorance
And that of prideful bliss
Fools, I hiss through my teeth
And they carry on with their
Long winded soliloquies
With their twisted verbage
A show of flair, a petty coat on
An empty bottle.
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
Some people want to draw the world upon their skin
But I see it there already
Some people stamp their favorite messages down arms and legs
But I see lovely verbage fall
around the edges of my veins
If my breast is a canvas
my bones an easel frame
my mouth will scatter paint
my eyes drip silver rain
to show you I am full and finished
A Universe
my name
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 3:12 PM UTC
Words of the masses are gathered in galleries,
Verbage is gathered in cloistering mass.
Masses are gathering to cloister their verbage
Where verbage is cloistered for masses to stash.
Nursing the words from a mind full of passion,
Coaxing the phrases to render them bold.
Weilding the pen with theatrical flourish
Hoping to God inspiration takes hold.
Legions of letters lie waiting in folders
Waiting for praise to hold up it's hand,
Begging acclaim from occasional perusal
To seeking the fame of a publishers' brand.
Passion and pain are an artists' portfolio
Ego and talent are held presupposed,
Preposterousness is taken for granted
But nil recognition gets right up the nose.
Gnashing of teeth and fingernail chewing
Coincide with a confidence fall
But the ultimate down in a work hard done
Is to have your peers ignoring it all.
A kernal grows from fleeting feelings
Inspiration holds the thought,
A thing of grandeur pens to greatness
Breathlessly... a script is wrought.
Dancing fingers grace the keyboard
Lilting music fills the air,
A wordsmith's touch of rich creation
Links the literate portrait's flair.
There tis done.. A thing of beauty
Silently I sit and stare,
Wordlessly, I thank the Heavens
Art is wrought and art is there.
Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
1 August 2010
Aug 1, 2010
Aug 1, 2010 at 1:38 AM UTC
You say you spent two years sleep-
walking all around here,
past convenience stores and dead ends.
Steering blind while the suburbs blurred,
your sneering eyes grew tired
like my slurring verbage
Now with our words just circling 'round
we'll shout right into the drain
blaming newer faults on old targets...
And I can only say...
That you won't see me
playing Kings & Creeps
when the whiskey's gone
and this here card game's out of reach.
When the fingers point, it's nothing doing,
stated bluntly.
We're saying nothing again.
Now I've been eating crow with
a side of consternation
through a swelling, allergic throat.
Choking down all my dumbest thoughts.
My token frown flips up
when your smile turns caustic.
And with the tension boiling down,
bubbling up from our heads,
we'll pour it out on old targets...
It seems we've spilled again...
But you don't hear me
crying, "Kings & Creeps"
when the music dies
and we stand, staring at our feet.
With an unhinged jaw, even a snake can
swallow some things--
digest them back in the den.
We're saying nothing again.
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 12:48 PM UTC
There's something effortless about lips stained with wine.
Like a guilt-free, hall pass to unfiltered minds. My bartender poors liquid confidence into my challace of courage. It soon shuts up my "almost" verbage. I think he's magic, he looks concerned at my face, but really I'm just staring in awe of the grace. It's nice to finally know how it feels to not hesitate.
There's something spiritual about long, interstate drives. The thinking that occurs is the lyrics on his mind. Sometimes I cry, often I scream, other times I laugh to feel, just for once, a little lightly. I drum on the wheel and hum with the bass. I know I've felt God, once or twice, on that **** interstate.
I hardly finish poems. I guess I like the idea of things lasting forever. This is why I can't burn bridges, so I leave it all to the weather. It's unrealistic, see this I am aware, but I've always liked pretending, for it keeps me less bare.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 6:43 AM UTC
A leafless tree
Arms folded, at waistside
naked eyes hidden beneath
the shade of a plastic lens.
Breathing life in open air,
Lost and found
isn't discovered in a box
Sometimes, those moments
bruise us. My hand, torn
shoe string of tattered fever
which holds intent like
an infant, cradled.
You never told me it would
last this long.
Penetrating vice of verbage
that hold lips in
backward content.
Annotation: Faded Tattoo
We can't always connect
cities, streets or names.
And this bloodshed inside your
journal can move quickly.
Born again into city streets
At night, when the world is still
the mirror of ashes consist
of watching this dawn
until our fingers sing
the silence of things.
Laid out like soldiers
under dim lights,
what happens if a car comes?
We dream this in lilting laughter.
If I had a lotus flower,
if only.. I had.
Hanging on ivy vines.
Your taste is, impeccable darling.
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 7:56 PM UTC
Oh Fools!
The pain, the unheeded advice-
Oh Feste, oh gravediggers, oh Fools!
Hiding behind the garb of jesters,
I hear your truth.
I know the fate sleeping in the riddle.
Alas! Poor Yourick knows it well.
For that which lives must die,
And that which dies has no tongue,
No verbage to warn.
Whilst the kings laugh
At morbid jokes,
The Fool sheds a tear,
For behind all good jests
Is a terrible truth.
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 5:55 PM UTC
I call your name into the echo. I wait for it to come back to me.
It returns, and as it enters me I’m shaken.
As you gradually fade each silence is a lifetime,
and I wonder at the verbage of a name.
I call out once again into the echo.
It reminds me of when these letters
first escaped my lips.
But then, again I’m empty
And even though I’m calling
I realize my name
will not be missed.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC
he told me that my ideas were stronger than my voice
and the metal frame shudders, threatening
to fall apart once and
for all.
look!
how rusted are the bolts, the washers nonexistent
with every movement, a creak and a groan and then
another bolt lost
she told me what they always say:
i would't if i didn't want to
unless, of course, you felt you had to
don't you see?
carefully manipulated by one
such as me
he told me there was no point in it,
in penning down words and phrases
of sifting through verbage to find what to say
because even if
even if someone listened (no one hears a thing),
it reads as
empty
so i wanted to try once more,
with feeling.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 10:38 AM UTC
If my paragraph is too long
To keep you interested
Perhaps sound bites are
What you prefer
You the know the ones were
Words flash across your eyes
You rearrange the letters for your
Mind to understand
Now you are content yet confused
At my verbage
Reread the paragraph and and find
All the phrases were I love you
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 6:27 PM UTC
Clouds above our heads
- original nomads
Let go any excess
- travelling light
Teaching all wordsmiths
-ancient art of verbage
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 8:54 AM UTC