"verging" poems
Dry winds of monsoon rainless
Caress my little hair idly
Fire crackers acrid painless
Waft up quite widely
The elements treat me fine
Yes, they are all democratic
Often verging on divine
Tho’ folks call em lunatic
Bother not, friends
Folks are easily dumb
That’s how it ends -
Tom, **** and a thumb
Tho’ nothing might augur well
Keep being until groundswell
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 4:22 PM UTC
What’s the difference between unwanted and unneeded?
You’re unnecessary, verging on disappointment, disgrace
Breaking faith and bond, hoarding intent and hopes false
Unnecessary child
Give me pure existence
And watch me lose my mind
Without meaning
I’m fingerless and blind
Give me pure existence
And watch me lose my heart
Without love
I’m a stringless puppet
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 8:10 PM UTC
In Latin, verging on double dutch, names for psychological disorders
are sheep in wolves' clothing, let me resort to plain language;
invited to her harem, a rare privilege, quickly I found she has,
what I would happily call, "Manic Obsessive Lingerie Acquisition Disorder"
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 11:26 PM UTC
You are witnessing a prodigious talent and promise, and to a lesser extent but still to the degree whereby it should keep you awake at night writhing in cold sweats, your life, slip agonisingly through your open and clammy palms. Promise means so little if not actualised. You have been granted chance after warning after fortuitous escape yet have blithely spurned every omen and will one day fall, swiftly and perhaps terminally. You are almost certainly depressed. You say you love your girlfriend, and you mean it wholeheartedly when you do, but you worry that the relationship perpetuates as without her there would be no reason to rise with the sun. Even if the relationship is unstable, and at times verging on the unhealthy, you believe you love her but are too great a coward to consider decisive action if that belief is to reside or subside. Your friends range from kind and honest yet deeply flawed to somehow toeing an inextricably thin line between dependability and duplicitousness. Conversations with a certain few of your friends necessitate decrying every undercooked ethos you've every conned yourself into believing you hold (you could well be the most hypocritical liberal to walk the earth, for you are innately and irrepressibly selfish) yet you still nod placidly as your conscience squirms. Grotesquely, like a beaten spouse, you crave the gaze of those who have treated you with the most insulting derision, but are too proud (of what?) and, a running theme, too cowardly, to stoop to a simple detante. You must change, for it pains you on a most base level to have to accept the feeble, whimpering, simpering spectre you have become. You must be bold, brave, unashamed in your convictions, anything but pursed and silent lips. You have a voice, and you must now speak loud enough for them to hear, for that which has become blunted must be whetted, sharpened, readied for battle to be unsheathed at an utterance. Heed the signs and change, for our sake. You, a milksop who attentively notes the sophistry of courage, you can still be brave, and you must be.
For one day you will be swelled with a courage and fortitude to fill your sails taut, enough to leave this place, forget these people and bear you away.
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 8:08 PM UTC
*On the top of rationality
Remains an abyss to insanity
That I persist to climb
Until I reach my prime
Until I grasp all the rains in my veins
Until I rein the reins
As I contemplate all the plains
Of grayish fate, thru trees of clocks
Leaves of wish and apples of Eve
Thru rocks weightless as chants
And thru ants and doves verging chess
Hazy mortals with gloves of hate
Lazy and crazy mortals,
In such rare lands of bliss,
Obliterating the glow...
**So, I knead the canvas with my bare hands
And threw myself into the abyss.***
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
I booked myself a ride;
On a galactic flight,
through the atmosphere,
out towards the light,
unity and pride;
is one satellite,
I'm a space-line pioneer;
whistling through the night.
We're verging on a new beginning somewhere out in space
We're verging on a new beginning somewhere out in space ! !
We're setting out on a new adventure;
somewhere out in space,
buy a ticket !
secure your seat;
and join the human race !
Oh ! Oh ! Oh !
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 8:16 PM UTC
Curses to that boy.
For spoiling you; leaving a dent
For taking your energy
For leaving you spent
How dare he think he could keep you to himself?
For months on end
Until I didn't recognize the beautiful you
You were covered in a cloud of him
Curses for that boy
who cursed you
because why else did your eyes so blue turn a pale grey?
if you were not used?
Cursing myself because I befriended him
so I can see in his eyes the sadness he feels
and he's regretful
but he's not
because he doesn't want that path
the one of guilt so strong
where you're hanging on the edge of the crack
and the only rope is to right your wrong
but you both know
you wouldn't take him back
And there are real curses.
If not, then why did that lady who looks so lovely
have such a tragic story?
Cursed by time for the older mother, soon gone
Cursed by disease as her mother departed -
no match for her cancerous beast.
Cursed by fate.
As she made soup for a queasy sister.
Such a small hint, a short phone-call
And she arrived to greet the deceased.
And she was foredoomed to relent her peace.
Curses to anyone who has wronged!
I should think.
I hate how there are two sides
Because then I remember how I used to love it all
And I'm afraid
of that love resurfacing
And I'm afraid
that I am verging on witch-hood
And I was raised never to curse
Lest I become the devil at its worst
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
twitters and tweets
pictures are sweets
keeping you hooked
on the tabloid elites
just out of bed, hair on his head
matted and messy, way better than said
your public is waiting and verging on vexed
"stay tuned for more selfies", you casually text.
stand by the mirror and pose for your followers
leading them into the worship of men
drawn to the sight of your bare naked belly
this bowl full of jelly is quaking, and then
this one, her *** just after the baby
she's worked out like crazy, perhaps she just clazy
spray-tanned and bare butted
tattooed and nare studded
back in the crack but her tact has been share gutted
no worries, it all comes around
in some hotel bathroom you click at your Iphone
like all of the rest of us, yet so alone
trying to snap one both **** and manly
the wife beater t-shirt, the boxers and phone
we can't really blame you, your business, your life quest
but fashion is funny right down to the jewels
both earlobes sport earrings, just like mommy dearest
whatever your pleasure, some little girl drools
and she scantly clad there, for all of her viewers
could not give a **** about "ahhers" or "ew'ers"
but don't stop, you're on top and making your money
and laughing right back, since we're also quite funny
we once wore our hair all pulled up or with mullet
thought no one was laughing, we knew we were cool
and now all the stuff which we wore gone forever
or passed off as costume, just vintage, old school
where somebody bought it from some smelly thrift shop
and wore it again with a sense of true style
the polaroid pictures we took at the bus stop
that camera is back and will be for a while
Stand at the mirror and smile for your camera
not really getting that folks can be odd
some are perverted, while others disturbed
and still others are cranky and smelling like cod.
Someday you'll grow up, a mommy or daddy or maybe
a granny once shaking her *****
or maybe a pop-pop
and scoff a their moptop
and laugh with your grandkids
it all comes around.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 9:12 PM UTC
Boldly going nowhere fast
Rolling in the fragrant grass
This has-been kid sits on his ***
Waiting for bad **** to pass
Nothing lately comes his way
Out of pocket
No means to pay
He slow starts to slip away
Fading fading like the light
Slipping sliding losing might
Verging deeper
Can not be heard
This young man won't be deterred
This passing phase
Won't phase him out
He'll rise up strong
Without a doubt
Learning lessons the hard way
Because this kid is known to party
This kid known to hit drink hard
But it hit him back
Left several scars
Winded
Wounded
Fighting back
This dark black out
Will be a thing of the past
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 8:40 AM UTC
I like to watch them,
as they fold gently,
Into newly found realms,
Of softened happiness.
Scents of lavender,
and milkweed,
Blaming their aches,
Until they fade away.
I am selfish enough,
To seek comfort in them,
I am selfish enough,
To pretend I am part of them.
Part of this ever growing bubble,
That is verging on delirium.
*But I am not,
I know I am not.
This I hope,
Will be unnoticed.*
It's easy to mimic,
Or fake your behaviour,
If the outline of what,
You hope to achieve,
is merely,
A heartbeat away from you,
It's easy to colour,
between the lines,
Even if my pencil,
is shaded melancholy blue.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 8:31 PM UTC
A vicious war is waging between two groups
The pink and the blue cannot be pacified
Just because one pink is too loud for her own good
But that's no excuse for all this bloodiness
Yes, people make mistakes
Especially pinks, when they ***
There's a dark side to the blues
A side that scares not the pinks
But the other colors in this crayon box
A side that is foreign and is verging on evil
This little pink right here is fed up of this madness
It's either we learn to mix our colours
To create a beautiful myriad
Or we all clash together and end up
With a torn crayon box and broken crayons
It's the battle of the sexes
And it doesn't look like it's ending anytime soon
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 9:37 AM UTC
Breath is never
baited, its sea has
already parted.
In its place a mountain
stands, a man lain across
its peak.
There exposed, what bone
may box a breast, O dear Mother--
never off kilter.
Therefrom a thread so gold, marrow
met skin, up and away...
a steady pull by the tail end
of an angel.
Relative as the bent forefront of love's law,
where all reunion leaves no remnant.
To find a faith so becoming, space leaves
room for space verging on itself.
How blue the pearl, how circular
the sky of its sea...how golden grows
the thread that breaks with every breath.
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 1:02 AM UTC
The years of memories
pile up like cord-wood
stacked randomly,
a Jenga game of blocks
balanced precariously,
verging on toppling
when a piece near the bottom
is removed too carelessly.
Memories must dwell in the past,
forever in the life of the mind.
They cannot be pulled out,
touched and held,
nor lived over and over again,
except perhaps in dreams.
Eileen Auger
3/22/14
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
My body's nothing special, as far as I can see
My mind, though verging on the tiny
Is good enough for me
I don't ask much from anyone
They don't ask much from me
That way I stay in touch
With my inner chimpanzee
Dec 21, 2011
Dec 21, 2011 at 2:44 PM UTC
I sit and watch
the season pass --
the swallows
have flown south.
Sparrows huddle
in the trees,
waiting to be fed.
The leaves have
begun to turn --
acorns litter the ground.
All the colors:
the yellow willow,
the orange maple,
verging pink.
The browns and
purples,
surround me now.
The mighty elm,
Autumn's last sentinel,
stands tall, baiting
Winter with its chill.
Soon bare branches,
skeleton trees,
will haunt the skyline
and pine-cones will fall
with any sudden
wind.
Soon I'll bundle
against the cold,
trudging through the
snow,
waiting for daffodils
and Spring's delights.
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 10:10 AM UTC
There are days I feel sorry for loving you.
Days when my guilt rises with the sun.
Days the sky is pink with my feelings for you,
When only I know this is warning of a storm to come.
I am Calypso.
No weathered sailor can deny that they care for me, even if they never wanted sea legs.
But now addicted to the unpredictable rise and falls of the water,
Its now the constant rocking that sends you asleep,
gives you reason to wake in the morning.
I am love.
And love is never clean.
Like the day of our first kiss
When I spilled my heart out all over your shoes, I stooped to pick it up but you said, you didn't mind getting your feet wet.
Love is so much more now.
I called it love when I first heard you wrap my name in ocean waves, and promised me it'd stay afloat.
This is not love.
This is irresistibility
This is is verging on obsession
This is a passion I know you never knew existed before me.
I am love, '
You are but the love I gave to you
You are a victim of my disease.
I can bring any atheist to his knees once I have my sights set on him.
I warned you.
I am love.
You a flirting with danger,
Love, your feet are more than wet,
Love, you are in over your head,
I only hope you can swim.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 11:19 AM UTC
turning a corner
my headlights catch
a great horned owl
sailing through the darkness
wings outstretched
gliding on a cold north wind
a phantom conjured
by unyielding hunger
set aloft and still verging
from shadow to shadow
hours later
in the warmth of my room
Tom Spencer © 2018
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 8:19 AM UTC
On a sound route map of the ‘70s,
his church-trained tenor voice
verging at times on falsetto
led hordes of people to go on
holiday to Greece and Spain.
It was romantic, Mediterranean,
a perfect music background to sea,
“The morning sun”, ouzo and sangria.
Beverley, in the play Abigail’s Party
voiced devotion to Demis Roussos
in her opinion: “He doesn’t sound fat.”
Kaftan-clad flowing black hair:
Demis was called “The Singing Tent”
Such poetry in song will last forever.
Sing it again Demis.
Tobias
“He had a superb voice. He was an
artist, a friend. I hope he is in a better world.”
Nana Mouskouri.
Lyrics
Ever and ever, forever and ever you'll be the one
That shines in me like the morning sun
Ever and ever, forever and ever you'll be my spring
My rainbow's end and the song I sing
Take me far beyond imagination
You're my dream come true, my consolation
you'll be my dream
My symphony, my own lover's theme
(Ever and ever forever and ever) my destiny
Will follow you eternally
Take me far beyond imagination
You're my dream come true, my consolation
you'll be the one
That shines in me like the morning sun
(Ever and ever, forever and ever) my destiny
Will follow you eternally
Songwriters: Robert Constandinos / Stylianos Vlavianos
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 12:18 PM UTC
Eighty dollar Cuban cigars
fast women
fast cars
and a seat on the Board.
Lord,
what on Earth did you do to deserve all of that
Who's yanking your chain
who's pulling your cord?
Suddenly life seems so flat.
Dog ended days
Chips cut with corn or with maize
the life of the lowly
slowly I am beginning to get the gist
of the things I have missed
and I see things must change.
In this City
I can see disparity.
polarised opinions
factions on the margin
Verging on obscenity.
So should we all be stars in cars
have cigars with
fast women swimming through
in a boardroom grinning to, the poor folk
who's winning the war
what is life for if not for the promotion of wealth?
by stealth
and all other means necessary.
A pessary for Pilate
for where the sun doesn't shine
on this hit parade the weather's just dandy and fine
or it will be
when I get
what's mine.
Reserve me a seat on the board
attach the chain and the cord
and start
pulling.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 5:59 AM UTC
I have become so unhealthy, some may say insane
The way i conjurer up ideas to try provoke the pain
They way i like to run outside and stand out in the rain
They way i obsess over my blood as i watch it pump through the veins
I'm slowly slipping down the slope, no way of coming back
If I unleash my real thoughts I may cause a heart-attack
How I stumble threw the mist of lies, to search for truth or fact
I cant compress life anymore, my brain has now been hacked
It has been corrupted by the government, corrupted by the schools
The way they keep me in line and tell me all the rules
They lead us down the garden path as though we where just fools
Well I have suppressed my inner demon and now I have the tools
I will break out ,shake up, shout loud and take all
There is no way of breaking me, you shall not see me fall
If judgement day is upon de you shall not see me stall
Someone should inform Jericho, i'm breaking down the walls
I am a biological machine, with a brain that's finely tuned
When i release the steam, emotion can't be groomed
If you wish to stop me, then condemn me to my tomb
I'm past the point of it, this flower shall not bloom
You may call this unhealthy, you may call this insane
But this is the path i have to walk to get me through the game
My head will be raised, held high, I will not bury it with shame
It is time for me to make a stand and not pass on the blame.
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 12:59 PM UTC
Driving through life,
The steering wheel shifting so lightly
Between my fingertips,
Indicating at every junction,
Deciding which direction I'll take
To reach my final destination.
But recently I have been verging,
Down narrow lanes,
Picking up speed
As I push down on the accelerator,
80mph,
90mph,
100mph,
Straight down the lane,
Adrenaline pulsing through me
As I keep going,
Faster I scream to myself,
Faster,
Faster,
Never stop.
I never saw the cliff coming
Rock bottom exists. I've been there.
The seatbelt clings to me as I go over,
The air rushing from my lungs,
The roaring of the wind scraping against metal,
The crash of the ocean waves below.
Every ***** inside me squishing against one another,
My stomach somersaulting as I continue to plunge.
Yet during the fall,
I felt weightless,
Like everything that had forced me to get into the car,
Had evaporated.
I continued to fall,
And even now I still find myself waiting
For the jagged impact of
Rock bottom.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 2:31 PM UTC
You say: to be penetrated, to penetrate. Sea-sand, sand-sea
verging on the very centre. Words fall between us
like something broken. Listen, I love you.
But you, having it only your way, exist, exist, exist.
You are not being paid for this and still,
Mr. and Mrs. Other, you stroll along the street as if
you’re only a name and have no navel. I
act like you, repeat the movements
which you repeat. Tell me, reflection —
I throw another stone at you — is anyone more actual than me?
I say sand-sea, sea-sand. Like something
broken: a multiplication of faces, legs and hands like
something
that’s there. So: enough. Come back to me. I’ll let you go
as often as you like.
Now there’s no longer a difference between us, except this
poem
where some sort of a world lives. Another possibility,
not really different: here, you don’t leave at all.
You don’t stop coming for a moment. I open
a mirror and turn its pages in front of what’s already
written. It’s what you are: sadness in front of the blue evening sky,
anger, insult, longing ******* the blue from your chest
or happiness that suddenly spills in front of the blue of that evening sky;
it’s a voice which accompanies what, looking,
I see now or don’t see. And I see you:
world by world, now by now, one
and yet another one. In this poem that stumbles from page
to page you watch and flicker between letter and letter
and vanish — present in every one of these apparently silent centimeters —
and don’t stop coming, and not really coming. So enough, please,
don’t hide everywhere, talk to me, all of you at once.
Amir Or, from Let's Speak You
translated by Ioana Ieronim
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 5:23 AM UTC
He had no insight into the mysteries
Of the gilded sports
Of the British social elite,
By the time he arrived at his beloved college,
Long, long ago in a long-forgotten England,
And in later years, when he looked back at his beloved college,
He'd insist if he possessed a single quality
That might be termed noble
He owed it to his education,
And not least the four years he spent there,
And there’d be times when certain pieces
Of quintessentially English pastoral music
Still had the power to evoke his strange and sudden flight,
While seeming to him to bespeak a passion
For the Arcadian soul of England that verged on the ecstatic,
And others when he’d dream of a day
He might return to the scene of his flight as if in atonement,
And commune with the soul of his beloved England,
With a passion verging on the ecstatic,
And then put the memory to rest for all time,
For he absconded once...just the once it was...
To avoid being chastised for something foolish he did,
And he finished up wandering, forlornly wandering,
His boots freshly caked with the purest English soil,
Long, long ago in a forgotten field in England.
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 1:57 AM UTC