"visuals" poems
Recalling your name;
as each letter of your name
slips and slides off my tongue
the seductive visuals of
getting you off have begun
touching your venus fly trap
with my taste bud
making your goosebumps bud
until your river runs
and your floodgates flood.
Won’t even say your name
just sound it out -- until you are overcome.
Submit to my strength; of my passion
with my permission.
applying pressure;
until you are well-cum.
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 8:09 PM UTC
I peruse exhibits through the modern art museum
Nails hammered into wood
And trash strewn on the floor
I couldn't help thinking
What the **** is this ****
These can't be the champions of modern art
Moonlight and Arrival morphed my empathy and perspective
The theater is fine
Music is there for those inclined to discover it
So what about visual art?
I know a few things for certain
Nails hammered into wood never changed my perspective
Nor does seeing a garbage can in a museum affect my empathy
Trash is not art
Trash is trash
Waste meant to be thrown in the proper receptacles
So as not to obstruct our view of true beauty
I will concede that
Beauty can be found in everything
Depending on analyzation variation
But those that live an examined life
Constantly see silver linings and sour grapes
Experiencing comfort in tundras to the point of banality
Those visions are much more interesting
in their organic state anyway
As opposed to an interpersonal expression of the seemingly obvious
So what to hang in an art gallery?
I have my own opinions
At this point in time
No visuals elicit more emotions
Than dank memes
When I'm consuming art
Questions are innate in my consumption
Is this a vessel for empathy?
Is this examining the human condition?
Dank memes meet those criteria
Satirizing the powerful
Highlighting emotions and virtues in ourselves
That we're either proud or ashamed of
Memes share a common thread with poetry
In the sense that everybody can create memes
Or be a poet
I get the impression that
Universality of art diminishes it's importance
In the minds of patrons
There's an element of truth to that
But what makes art special is quality
And what makes art truly special is high quality
And that's what belongs in museums
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 11:23 PM UTC
I dream of innocence
of days long spent
beneath summers sun
a Carpenters son
and royal daughter
a Queen and a martyr
one girl one boy
eyes fuse like alloy
caught in a sudden trance
a courtship dance
loves hypnotic rituals
of star filled visuals
white lights against black night
white Knight versus black Knight
this is now a game of chess
strategizing what to do next.
Three is a crowd
how I wish he wasn't around
your first mistake
so I sit and wait
for the nightmare to be over
for my Knights mare to save her
I already know the pain she's due
it's as old as the sun, this rain isn't new
nothing washes away infidelities sinning
nothing can make them white sheets of linen
once innocence is lost like paradise
if only you took another roll at the dice
maybe fate is predetermined numbers
and maybe innocence only exists in slumber
maybe it was lost at birth
maybe it's just an ancient curse
inherited from days long ago
maybe we were never white as snow.
But still I have this martyrs cause
yet still I never really give pause
the Knight that sacrifices for his Queen
for he has already witnessed all to be seen
history repeating itself
Déjà vu sapping our health
reincarnated pain
can the black Knight ever be slain?
or is it just another side of the coin
everyone is still curtain drawing
hiding from the dark
the day that's lost its spark
black night only masks the sun
black Knight versus the Carpenters son
but white lights appear in the sky
the white night is there when we die
when our numbers finally up
when our slumber finally stops
the ending of the night
maybe we aren't really Knights
maybe we are all just pawns
so innocence can be reborn.
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 8:44 PM UTC
I like to do drugs, hallucinogens in fact. ***** Crack, ****** and **** ***** I don’t **** with that. **** your grammar or whatever U thinks about it. Not being an *** it just how I feel about it. **** shows me the vain plead to be successful. To them I’m soon to be dirt. Yet they ,,,,,,have done no research. I like the colors and the swirls in my brain it almost makes me feel like im not even gay. Cuz im not when im high,,,,,and this is not self-hatred . Preference is the problem of the gay hate matrix. But back to drugs there so fun and idgaf if u don’t get the pun. My art turns into magic, the sounds turn into visuals , music becomes colors on the -----I am great canvas. I like to do drugs, hallucinogens in fact. ***** Crack, ****** and **** ***** I don’t **** with that. **** your grammar or whatever U thinks about it. Not being an *** it just how I feel about it.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 9:35 AM UTC
Dear Spanish breeze,
You rolled up my inspirational sleeves.
You gave me a glorious sight and placed me in an inventive light.
I call you a thief in the night for robbing words out of my mouth.
You guide my fingertips and the lips of my pen
by kisses of daydreams and endless ideas.
I am a home where the sweetest poems abide in.
Ready to come out and imprint a thousand pages.
What a delight to travel through poetic time of this artistic city.
Dear Spanish sun,
You burned my lack of poetic desire.
You colored my inventiveness like you darkened my skin.
I admire the way you have inspired me to become the poetess i aspire to be.
Your ravishing art undressed the indecisive poetess in me.
So here I stand emotionally naked in front of written truth
ready to loose myself in your Catalan atmosphere.
"Rest your ears darling and let your eyes whisper poetic visuals," you say.
And i close my eyes. I travel through this dream till forever ends.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC
Shooting myself with another needle of cutting edge,
my desire for the latest and greatest continues my addiction.
Where's my IV!? I need more electricity.
Without constantly being jacked in and distracted by others,
I’m left with the one thing I can’t bare to endure – myself.
Who needs dreams when exist
virtual realities of dazzling graphical effects,
unreal visuals that I’m actually conscious of.
Screens dispersing artificial radiance bare all,
but blind me from what's real.
Google is my omnipotent god.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 12:59 AM UTC
A riverbank of memories
saturates cultured minds
such succulent visuals
of precipitation
so moist, so pleasant
spines shiver in longing
howls ascend
veneration
Apr 27, 2012
Apr 27, 2012 at 6:29 AM UTC
spring's vivid carnival shall soon prevail
she'll be frocked up in the brightest attire
her floral shades so striking of detail
gardens being clad by stunning avail
flowers displaying such a colourful shire
spring's vivid carnival shall soon prevail
every aspect of the rainbow there to sail
glorious blooms that we can admire
her floral shades so striking of detail
the wow factor e'er innate in her trail
a seasonal dressing of which we'll not tire
spring's vivid carnival shall soon prevail
great visuals she'll pleasingly nail
on painting in a sensational palettes fire
her floral shades so striking of detail
seeing what the fashion will entail
we'll be gobsmacked with its garb's quire
spring's vivid carnival shall soon prevail
her floral shades so striking of detail
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 9:36 AM UTC
allocation of supreme alliteration illustrates perpetual contemplation and concentration that dictates a maligned mastication of federal incarceration of elongated complementary probation leaving you cuffed and based on baseless accusations conducted in aboriginal abbreviations masked task force concluding a course of brevity conducted in coordination then coordinating and copulating condemnation for a homeostasis of thought bought scolded eroded and shot inefficacy perpetrating cultural holocaust irrelevance somersaults galactic static of mathematical bombastic smack addict glued shut in a craft attic floral resurrection gartered section of ****** selection she moves fluid through unaltered perfection of cosmic bypass past the point of extemporaneous infinitude reciprocating fortitude of sinews congregating fabricating visuals of vitality soldering axonal membranes on the cerebellum and cortex simulation of sensual vortex demented fusion more blessed I am that which stands to understand the incomprehensible unconsidered options of racial conflicts the screaming round of unaltered copper fiber severing life from the living only now can we debunk the years
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 9:01 AM UTC
listen here: https://youtu.be/zvKsDjWhETE
I could give this all up fall in love with a new life
Got a new view of a new tribe
What did I do to deserve this new life
looking back percs in petty sacks
Off white china in .1 packs
Point of all this is I took it the max
Could this one book keep me from the casket
God my life has been so tragic
Never enough
Never felt love like I did from the dub
Took it and run like I'm never coming back god
Never looking back on it living in the past, nah Imma let it go
Let it all go I'm a new individual
Coming so lyrical bringing hella visuals
Victim of nothing Imma survivor
Sick and I'm tired; corrupt desire
let me go, God
So I know I know I'm
Free to grow God
Not alone
let me go, God
So I know I know I'm
Free to grow God
Not alone
Let me go
I know this road's not easy
It's not made to please me
I leave the rest behind
Watch the smile fade from her eyes
I'm alone
Many tries now my life is on the line
And I got no phone
Never enough
Never felt love like I did from the dub
Took it and run like I'm never coming back god
Never looking back on it living in the past, nah Imma let it go
Let it all go I'm a new individual
Coming so lyrical bringing hella visuals
Victim of nothing Imma survivor
Sick and I'm tired; corrupt desire
let me go, God
So I know I know I'm
Free to grow God
Not alone
let me go, God
So I know I know I'm
Free to grow God
Not alone
I want to be free
Locked in with disease
Put me on my knees
Looking for the key
Feel so empty on the inside
Take me then divide
Struggle then I die
Pretend I'm alive; that's a lie
Never enough
Never felt love like I did from the dub
Took it and run like I'm never coming back god
Never looking back on it living in the past, nah Imma let it go
Let it all go I'm a new individual
Coming so lyrical bringing hella visuals
Victim of nothing Imma survivor
Sick and I'm tired; corrupt desire
Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 10:01 AM UTC
Stuck to an icy
history of thought,
the habitual web caught
the Fly in its enticing
display of verbs
that match the pattern:
language is the matter,
betraying ourselves with words.
A tongue to its Work tied
might make the spider
think twice before biting;
those venomous lies
we tell our Selves about
helplessness and somedays
victimization and blame,
empowering our self-doubt;
∴
Devouring our might as writers,
we have nothing if not pride;
We take flight to the deepest parts
of the universe of literature.
Neither nihilistic nor cynical,
our linguistic is made of visuals.
Verily we write with studious care,
veracity a common trait we share:
We are an orchestra,
a symphony of synchronised melody.
Epiphanies emphasize tragedies
that consume us repeatedly --
We seek to
link our verses
and feel deep connections
when engulfed by depression
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC
I like my headphones for the
Insulation. Sometimes my ears
Take in too much stray noise,
Dredge up too much disorienting
Mud from the depths of a TV
Screen or an iPod. Then I can
Always snuggle into my headphones
And be silent - and silence is a
Dear dear commodity, to be sure,
When every other scene-
Stealing, pudgy-mouthed buffoon
Has to put his ten cents in. So
Much sound should be a sin;
Background music, ambient noise,
Music for airports, and pubescent
Boys screeching from tinny silver
Speakers near the wall. I don't
Want it, not every bit, not all
The hate and the slippery tongues
That speak and salivate and don't
Say anything human. I want to reprimand,
To excommunicate them from
This Holy rite of sound. (And really,
I would be content to never hear
Music if I could block out the roundabout
Fights and the sultry nightlife descriptions
Gushing from my screen, if I could
Use my headphones to keep
That liquid crystal from pouring in
My too needfully silent ears.)
Maybe I'll follow a painter's path:
All visuals and open dripping wet
Wrath with a noisy race. I can be a
Terrifying girl. Cut off my ears and
Be deaf to the world. Wrap me in
Canvas and chase me back into the
Woods on a starry starry night.
Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 5:29 PM UTC
For far too long we have been victims of police brutality.
We came in peace but got treated like criminals on the 21st of October.
These are the very same men and women who we trust to protect us.
But they failed us dismally, barricaded us from expressing our concerns.
You could see the visuals all on TV, it was all too hard to believe.
The revolution will not be fully televised, it will be tweeted.
For far too long we’ve accepted the government’s mediocrity.
For far too long we’ve been victims of police brutality.
Your teargas, rubber bullets and stun grenades will never stop us.
Our parents were sold dreams in 1994, we’re just here for the refund.
Now it’s time to finally bump the cheese up, so what’s the hold-up for?
History is repeating itself in South Africa, what a time to be alive.
They’ve become worse than their oppressors but they won’t oppress us.
Sorry for the inconvenience, we are just trying to change the world.
We will keep protesting in Jo’burg, Pretoria and Cape Town until we’re heard.
There’s no amount of police brutality that can dampen our spirits and no gun you make can **** our souls.
Our parents were sold dreams in 1994, we’re just here for the refund.
Now it’s time to finally bump the cheese up, so why is there a hold-up?
Hold up, we’re tired of being victims of hate, fate and police brutality.
We came in peace but got treated like criminals on the 23rd of October.
For far too long we’ve accepted the government’s mediocrity.
Your riot police, rubber bullets and stun grenades will never stop us.
Sorry for the inconvenience, we are just trying to change the world.
When burning buildings come down, I just hope you’ll be ready for us all.
When burning buildings come down, we will effortlessly heed the call.
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 6:21 AM UTC
My visuals are out to get me,
Drive in front and claim the safety.
Pull a map and divise a route,
To keep me from my- too loud. too loud.
You take the wheel,
I'll fake a path.
The road divides us
From future and past.
I wanna drive back,
until then i will roam.
the seats of tanned memories,
remind me of home-
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 6:36 PM UTC
Stranger to earth, to her body, to the church. I often wondered how she could remain stoic as her blood licked the grass blades at our feet, the moth falling with her finger, drowning with my grief into the ring of fire. How far can one go, she asked me, to live without participating in the circus, to resist clowns, to not register pain, family, injustice, rain. Look, I said, they endure, the sound, the visuals, the memory – episodic, yes, but they endure – people would not forgive bystander. The moth fell again, shuddering, struggling. And her finger, gushing with golden blood, was still pointing at the priestess, who smiled, and said, you decide, it’s your body. To sequester, draw a line on the snow, better with blood, but tears would suffice too – and so the stranger was repeatedly created and destroyed.
Jun 11, 2021
Jun 11, 2021 at 5:49 AM UTC
Legalize it
Sitting down jamming to Van Halen,
maybe flying, but more like sailing.
Smoked, maybe just a little bud,
whatever it was, certainly not a dud.
This visuals are out of sight,
best thing that happened, all **** night.
Lose yourself in a guitar solo,
nobody leads, we all just follow.
In own house, forget where you are,
this journey has gone a bit to far.
Air guitar is losing its touch,
maybe smoked a bit to much.
Also had a bit to drink,
hard now to even think.
Just legalize it already,
no more cutting corners like Freddy.
Tax the the living hell of of it,
soon after, no more deficit.
Side effects include, fun and joy,
brain cells get a temporary destroy.
Cotton mouth and the munchies,
no more wars in foreign countries.
Laziness and blood shot eye,
but at no time will you die.
Some drowsiness and falling asleep,
but to ****** to remember how many sheep.
May lead to other drugs,
or even getting naked hugs.
When legalized, I'd be first in line,
only then will life fully shine.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 1:10 AM UTC
She explored worlds only known
To those who had patience and perseverance
A world without visuals yet gave sight
To those willing to create it
A world filled with diverse people
Who all shared the same voice
A world so loud in words
Without making a single noise
She had many worlds she could explore
Too many for her to decide
Each new world lined up on the shelf
Aligned with past adventures to remind
Dec 25, 2018
Dec 25, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
She is numb and foggy
every tremor and twitch is a protest
trying to stay still in order to stop feeling
insomnia, she stares at a wall
thinking she doesn't deserve to dream
Now she is punished by day dreams
filling the gaps in her mind
visuals of isolate rooms and dry valleys
she shuts her eyes as guilt fills her chest
Shuddering, she shakes her head
thinking its foolish to feel this way
when freed she moves with grace
and drifts to dreamland with caution
knowing again she will be paralyzed
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 12:18 AM UTC
Primordial network,
networking mycelium,
mycelia working,
working primitively,
primitive connections,
connecting chemically,
chemical reactions,
reacting pleasantly,
pleasant visuals,
visual enhancements,
enhancing hallucinations,
hallucinating vividly,
vivid reality,
reality bending,
bending light,
lightly colorful,
coloured full,
fully spiritual,
spirit elevated,
elevated God,
Gods flesh,
flesh Devine,
Devine mind.
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 2:01 PM UTC
I am
Casting down imaginations
To the pulling down of., strong-holds
Gearing up for the.. long term
But from the outside looking in?
May seem bold
or quite
MAD*
[ Well ]
Just referring to the thoughts
that I have
that are really not that far- off
while dreaming of., REVELATION
No.. fabrication on my part
As I try to separate the Light
from the Dark
with high hopes and
Aspirations
Which is.. a sen-sational sensation of flying high
as I'm being
vated
ele-
Elevelation
High on
Or something like a planned
Evo-lu-tion that is so
True
[while]
Staying true to my elevation in 2020
leading into 2020 one
[while seeing] Dou-ble
Vision
( Although )
Some might try to fix it?
[ Yeah ]
But I would beg to differ
Cause it would take [twice] the listen
Care to listen?
Just to see things
Different
And at the same time?
Shuning the carnal mind's version
of seeing Dou-ble
Vision
May call it [ Twinning ]
Which is.. the true definition
of being Dou-ble
Minded
So.. to combat this?
I would just
never
Mind [It] ( meaning )
There's no rules or
bars of
Confinement
For no 20 or Eye is missing
from my
INTUITION
Raised suspicions?
Well., Just hoping that you will
tread.. carefully
And stay
Centered
As you enter my center of words
and.. penning
As I write the vision
I'll make it plain and simple
No Subliminals
Or either I'll keep it at minimal
While maintaining the
Visuals
As usual
As I keep on gaining in
WISDOM
Jan 3, 2021
Jan 3, 2021 at 11:47 AM UTC
while we rest, our minds infuse with magnificent visuals.
are these wonders of what we desire,
or are they futures to be revealed?
for the free spirit can merely ponder of how sensational our dreams are the following wake
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
Dear girl who dreams of my manic pixie nightmare
You are the one I never expected to meet
I am the one you have met a million times before
You're the girl obsessed with film craving invasion on television screens, propagandist **** muse, docs and a **** cut
I'm the girl obsessed with ******** and using boundaries as skipping ropes or thread to turn my hair to tapestry
You're Bowie
I'm Hendrix
You like visuals, shapes and sound and pretty cinematography and things I can't understand, your mind is a transcript in calligraphy I can't decipher,
I like books that come in three and getting to the end and not knowing how to live anymore
You're brimming full of hope and dreams and set lighting
I'm disappointment and drowning shame in the bottom of tumblers, spilling the leftovers into quotable dialogue
You're too good for my obscenity to taint, you can't find what you're looking for in me
I'll be your undoing spiralling constantly in a figure 8
You are the manic pixie dream girl we've all been searching for
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 6:21 PM UTC
Topics truthful, detached, a couple mentions of pain,
but vibes is what seems to ignite the flame.
A tongue on warm thighs, sultry stares rise;
just like the views, feeling heat in the air.
Passing eyes seeking more? I guess it’s a bore–
more visuals; let’s roll in the hay!
A part of the game, some roles will stay–
quill making loops under hair.
Keep switching lanes; no need for acclaim,
they’re wanting a show– I’m not entertain-
ment.
Apr 2, 2025
Apr 2, 2025 at 9:34 PM UTC
frozen fallout shelter housing dried goods and tinder
black bean and rice prepper bent on the end of days
looking first to the sky and then to the government
absorbing radiation and propaganda
faster than organic apple juice can flush the system
triple berry blast yogurt smoothie shakes violently
in hands coated with Lyme and the scent of the non-believers
bodies unburied lead only to disease and discomfort
stench filled landscape harboring mutated mankind
arms outstretched seeking normalcy and edible grains
contaminated meat from damaged cans sits unprotected
thin and frail lithosphere no longer preventing dermal cancer
only encouraging drought and famine while burning retinas and emaciating newborns
procreation as a plan of self-destruction and child-abuse
distant smokestacks, cracked, create a forlorn skyline
instilling visuals from days gone by
of easy life and happy youngsters
before the nuclear discovery
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC