"welding" poems
god meets
mystic: the
swing of winter
and lakes frozen
over.
god meets
Judeo-Christian sinner
whose eyes sought
lead along the lake’s
shore.
heavy.
heavy.
god meets sin:
a welding of
metallic vines and
out of tune music.
god meets underwater
Vulcan as he swallows
a laugh. gasoline
tops the lid
of the lake.
god meets the
fire that wicks the surface
until the body bubbles.
Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 1:08 PM UTC
Around the table,
Literacy discussion turned elitist...
Bemoaning some poor Johnny,
Son of a plumber who does not read
Beyond the practical need,
And has no desire to.
I stopped to check my sense of what I had just heard...
Was transported to a prairie farm;
Thought of my Father, then in his eighties
Who felt no need and no sense of loss
For not having read Shakespeare nor Kant
For missing Milton's Paradises and Hemingway,
For by-passing Black Elk Speaks and C.S. Lewis.
Every morning, he read his Bible;
Some nights he read the mail's
Motley collection of literature:
Ads and politicians and fanatics,
Demanding money and his time,
But mostly money.
"I don't have time to read!"
He'd shout when I suggested a novel.
What literature he had was in his head,
Poems memorized when he was a boy
In a two room school, or
His own lines, written as a young man,
Describing work and friends
Long distant now, but still alive
In memory.
Dad taught me how to read
In different literacies and different texts:
Nuances of sky to read the weather -
What chill or storm or drought was on its way
("Storm's coming, boys! Let's get that hay!");
Cows and calves and bulls,
(Which one was sick or well, dry or bred);
Ways to diagnose mechanical ailments
("Start with the easiest options first");
Metals, to know which welding rod applied
("Aluminum sags, and cast iron cracks");
Grain, rolled crisp between hard hands,
(a test of ripeness);
Cement, to blend the perfect mix,
("Clean gravel/sand, no dirt, not too much water!);
Conservation,
("Always keep some grain on hand" &
"Keep your fuel above half-tank").
So many literacies...
Dad, the Master Reader of them all...
No wonder he'd no time for books.
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 9:26 PM UTC
You say I burned your heart.
Well
Burning,
Like welding,
Is part of reconstruction.
and I'm in the same process myself.
If only I wasn't so sheltered to burn anyone who came close enough to feel my fire.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
Dark flows down to the street's pools
The blotting paper of sky in grey
has imprints of cyclamen roses
Right there on the street they are lynching
with a welding torch the rests
of this night I have spent with a walk
to assure myself that I live still
Maybe this is the morning
that will give an amnesty
to all the time barred loves
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 5:25 PM UTC
The hearts and minds of our future selves weld,
And Melt into the ***
It seems hopeless to try,
But I can't seem to stop.
Until Father time says; "My clock will tic but not tock,"
Sorry Doc you can' cure my ailments,
I'm killing myself for you,
But I still feel selfish.
Only if I can hide within myself like a shellfish,
Maybe I wouldn't be so hellbent on understanding this Paradox.
I saw our future before I knew your name.
It pains me to say its presently driving me insane
I try to fight the feeling
Though I can't seem to tame it
Steady holding the gun to your heart
But I can't seem to aim it
Praying for something different
Though I can't seem to change it
I can't seem to change us
Like Love is the game,
And Someone is playing us
Framing us,
For murdering "What could be"
I don't know
If its what should be
Though I have no problem seeing
If what would be perfect.
Could really be perfect.
I may be delusional
Tho, I don't care because I know your worth it
Hallucinations of spending my time
With only you on this Earth.
I can't say if its a blessing or a curse.
At times its the best but,
Most of the time its the worst.
Trying my best to appease you
Until I leave this Earth.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
Around the table, literacy discussion
Turns elitist...
Bemoaning some poor Johnny,
Son of a plumber who does not read
Beyond the practical need,
And has no desire to.
I stop to check my sense of what I have just heard...
Am transported back to a prairie farm
And think of my Father, now in his eighties
Who still feels no need and no sense of loss
For not having read Shakespeare or Kant
For missing Milton's Paradises and Hemingway,
For by-passing Black Elk Speaks and C.S. Lewis.
Every morning, he reads his Bible;
Some nights he reads the mail's
Motley collection of literature:
Ads and politicians and fanatics,
Demanding money and his time,
But mostly money.
"I don't have time to read!"
He shouts, when I suggest a novel.
What literature he has is in his head,
Poems memorized when he was a boy
In a two room school, or
His own lines, written as a young man,
Describing work and friends
Long distant now, but still alive
In memory.
Dad taught me how to read
In different literacies and different texts:
Nuances of sky to read the weather -
What chill or storm or drought was on its way;
Cows and calves and bulls -
Which one was sick or well, dry or bred;
Equipment to diagnose mechanical ailments;
Metals to know which welding rod applied;
Grain, rolled crisp between his hands, a test of ripeness...
Cement to find the perfect mix,
So many literacies...
Dad, the Master Reader of them all...
No wonder he'd no time for books.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 10:02 AM UTC
The smell of you,
is like metal,
probably because you weld metal together,
as one would sew two fabrics together,
only your fabric is made of metal.
and ironically enough,
laying next to you,
the smell of you and all,
makes me wish,
to be welded to your side,
but I am not made of metal,
and though you smell like it,
neither are you,
so I can only hope,
to keep lying like this,
for the longest while,
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 12:49 AM UTC
we'll build a fire tonight
welding your heart
and mine
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 5:52 PM UTC
I meant myself to be most true
With strong my heart o’er desire
But welding as one me and you
Is like welding ice and fire
My heart was once bright with love’s zest
And perchance I believe it so
That our strong love, it was the best
Before it diminished in woe
I meant myself to be most strong
My anger o’er love to control
But all the rights and each my wrong
Has welded in bitter recall
I know what I’ve done was a sin
Abandoning your heart but then
I realized all was great as been
So—will you love me once again?
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 6:34 PM UTC
Polished off the filler rods
now lifes got me dreaming
soley about the silver lining
the spooning of the woman on the moon
Keep mapping the schematic, the big move
heading straight to the oil soaked cash
Ready again to make the great dash
This time I'll save my dimes
for those unavoidable hard times
I'll pile it under my matress
a secrete stash thats all mine
Work my *** to the bone
by welding up a storm
Sitting all leathered up
on my light weaver throne
To meditate and consentrate
on 13 times the suns bright
Keep the eyes focused and fixate
count to ten when the mechanics frustrate
Troubleshoot the lines of life
fix the issue then
collect the lute.
Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 6:14 PM UTC
writing letters of apology,
we utter words like,
'weakness in man. the curse!
women, the abominable sin'.
writing letters of apology
we first deny the obvious
welding lies with truth
wrecking trust with words
writing letters of apology,
we quite recall others
who stepped in these traps
wearing shields and helmets
writing letters of apology,
wriggling in pain and depression
we gnash our teeth
words admitting that man is weak.
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 3:19 AM UTC
(Lines on the loss of the “Titanic”)
I
In a solitude of the sea
Deep from human vanity,
And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she.
II
Steel chambers, late the pyres
Of her salamandrine fires,
Cold currents thrid, and turn to rhythmic tidal lyres.
III
Over the mirrors meant
To glass the opulent
The sea-worm crawls—grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent.
IV
Jewels in joy designed
To ravish the sensuous mind
Lie lightless, all their sparkles bleared and black and blind.
V
Dim moon-eyed fishes near
Gaze at the gilded gear
And query: “What does this vaingloriousness down here?”. . .
VI
Well: while was fashioning
This creature of cleaving wing,
The Immanent Will that stirs and urges everything
VII
Prepared a sinister mate
For her—so gaily great—
A Shape of Ice, for the time fat and dissociate.
VIII
And as the smart ship grew
In stature, grace, and hue
In shadowy silent distance grew the Iceberg too.
IX
Alien they seemed to be:
No mortal eye could see
The intimate welding of their later history.
X
Or sign that they were bent
By paths coincident
On being anon twin halves of one august event,
XI
Till the Spinner of the Years
Said “Now!” And each one hears,
And consummation comes, and jars two hemispheres.
2.7k
Your hands are torches
And you're writing sonnets on my skin with fire.
Instead of welding me and you together
You open my flesh
And burn my essence.
Your lips create the wind that blows the flames
Heating more by the minute.
And as you speak, I burn.
When you press the bellows to me
It only fuels my furnace.
This is the fire only you can start
And I'm aching for you to put out.
(Firehose, please.)
Jul 26, 2010
Jul 26, 2010 at 7:23 PM UTC
your words poet
sing their song
In my innermost
each word completes
your welding craft
into memorable poems
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 4:44 PM UTC
He envisions the Machine as a large locomotive
Of a deep, tainted, black metal chugging down and infinite track
The eternally glowing red hot coals pushing the pistons
A giant crimson cowcatcher is fixed at the front
Scraping up followers; forcing them into the vehicle
Manipulating Its passengers to smash their heads into the Machine
Welding their minds into Its mysterious black metal walls
Stained with the blood of many who have tried to resist
Ultimately wounded, maimed, outcaste from society
Forever marked, branded by the scars of their attempt
When the Machine has used you and-or your mind to Its purose
It shoves you into Its furnace—keeping the pistons turning
The Machine cannot be stopped—always picking up followers
Forcing you into It; becoming one with the Machine
As He looks into the engine room, there is no conductor
A runaway locomotive chugging down the track with no end
Its only goal: gathering as many passengers as possible
Society, Washington, the Media built the machine
Their brainchild, but have long since become a part of It
Their minds welded the deepest—becoming the foundation of Its walls
Long ago abandoning their carcasses to fuel their mighty creation
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 5:16 PM UTC
Preoccupation with making something permanent
A feeling of expectation
incorporation of a certain situation
or habitation into life, for good
It makes me freak out.
Desire,
for a certain thing to happen
fear of that something actually happening
Or that it's something that might be permanent.
Worry,
the attempt to find certainty
the desire to control things.
Control you, controlling me
I'm afraid you'll find my black
It will come back again.
It's like an arc weld done incorrectly
Eventually it will start to bleed
And fall apart.
But I dreamt about welding and you welding me
into something permanent
something desirable
something non-penetrable.
You had me molded against the truck and...
I don't know who you are, but you put your fire in me
So deeply it burns.
A fire that firefighters can't dissolve
Doctors can't resolve.
You're in me,
and I love you.
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 7:15 PM UTC
Desktop In The Charismatic
THEOLOGIAN ESSENCE <[email protected]>
BONE STIRS ....'
ASSEMBLIONAIRE BEYOND MAGICIAN WOLVES
INVISIBLE GRAND OUTPOURING AMNESTY SURROUNDS....'
Desktop In The Charismatic
Dream into refuge all plantation
Dream into cog all wheel
Dream into bracing all consultative
Dream into rocking all regent
Dream into preferable all chariots
Dream into luxurious all absorbs
Dream into contagious all enthusiasm
Dream into communal all welding
Dream into universal all anatomy
Dream into reality all rings
Dream into searchingly all mysteries
Dream into artillery all mechanisms
Dream into colony all proportions
Dream into miracle all compositions
Dream into artistry all pursuit
Dream into alliance all admiral company
Dream into fragrance all new extensions
Dream into vast volume habitation all invests
Dream into carrying devotion all per excellence
Dream into grace-going all shepherd rewarding
Dream into oasis all resuming acquaintance
Dream into cross over all answering wonder.
Your Invades-Of-Veins,
SURETICE TONGUE
Email: [email protected]
Click here to Reply or Forward
0.03 GB (0%) of 15 GB used
Manage
Terms · Privacy · Program Policies
Last account activity: 1 hour ago
Details
Conversation opened. 1 read message.
Skip to content
Using Gmail with screen readers
Click here to enable desktop notifications for Gmail. Learn more Hide
20 of 155
Desktop In The Charismatic
SAMUEL DAVID <[email protected]>
11/9/17
to hydee1982
Desktop In The Charismatic
Dream into refuge all plantation
Dream into cog all wheel
Dream into bracing all consultative
Dream into rocking all regent
Dream into preferable all chariots
Dream into luxurious all absorbs
Dream into contagious all enthusiasm
Dream into communal all welding
Dream into universal all anatomy
Dream into reality all rings
Dream into searchingly all mysteries
Dream into artillery all mechanisms
Dream into colony all proportions
Dream into miracle all compositions
Dream into artistry all pursuit
Dream into alliance all admiral company
Dream into fragrance all new extensions
Dream into vast volume habitation all invests
Dream into carrying devotion all per excellence
Dream into grace-going all shepherd rewarding
Dream into oasis all resuming acquaintance
Dream into cross over all answering wonder.
Your Invades-Of-Veins,
Samuel-David O. Armstrong
Email: [email protected]
+2348131914240
Click here to Reply or Forward
0.03 GB (0%) of 15 GB used
Manage
Terms · Privacy · Program Policies
Last account activity: 1 hour ago
Details
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 7:27 AM UTC
The dusk fog reminds
Me of walks home after I
Had just been broken.
You caused the water
Drops like condensation, on
My dripping burnt skin.
Just to come back for
Another round into your
Heat-stroke and cold lies.
I had been frozen,
In place whilst burning, welding
Onto the embers.
Left in a heap and
Waiting for the next person,
To mould me again.
Jul 26, 2017
Jul 26, 2017 at 1:29 PM UTC
Even the letters of your name
Have power, hold sway
Fit together perfectly, a ring
A mantra to keep me here
The same mantra to set me free
Into your spirit
The atmosphere I long to breathe in
Shining from you, an aura
Transcendent we submerge
Sinking deep inside
To find a home
A dwelling for eternity
A womb-shell for Self
Reluctant to shed it's skin
Deciding not to
Instead clinging to your memory
Welding, melding, a parasite
A birthmark, a tattoo
In for the long haul
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 7:05 AM UTC
She was only 15, no boyfriends yet
At a family gathering their eyes first met
Now Rob's not shy, with plenty of chat
So he gave her a call and they never looked back.
She went to Cambridge to get her degree
So every weekend, so did he.
When that was all done, what's next to do?
No more travelling, just me and you
In a cottage in Framsden made for two
With ferrets and fish and a couple of dogs
Oka cooks happy meat while Rob chops logs
A veggie garden appeared for a spell
A few came up, but the weeds did well.
Some chickens arrived and did their thing
Then so did the fox to commit his sin.
Now Rob loves his hobbies, it gets on her wick
When he's in his shed fiddling with his welding stick.
But life is quite settled, time passes like this
Living their version of unmarried bliss.
But something is missing, the feeling grows
She thinks to herself, will he ever propose?
Then leap year comes round, with it's extra day
That was her chance to have her say
Rob knew it was coming, he took the day off.
She said I want to be married, now don't you scoff!
But Rob wasn't scoffing, he said now I'm sure
I do love my Landie, but I love you more.
That brings us right up to this special day
We all wish you well, we all want to say
May your lives together be happy, healthy and long
May your love for each other keep growing strong.
Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 2:33 PM UTC
I'm just tired. Of everything.
Lay your head on my shoulder and rest
Kind and tender offer, truly touches my heart, but my head is too heavy a burden for me to rest on anyone.
I will take that burden as I hold my own. If I were Atlas the Titan holding the sky above I would still take that weight
*You are beautiful.
Please don't stop being beautiful, love.
I no longer have a sky,
But you make me want to rebuild mine.
If only a piece.
You are a star,
Shining at night.
You are a lamp,
Shedding some light.
You are a hope,
Making me want to fight.
Want to fight.
But to weak to stand.*
**I will be your shoulder to cry on
I will be your arm to lean on
I will hold your hand when things get rough
I will light the way in your darkest times
I will be here to the end**
I just want to cry but the tears won't come.
Why cry darling? You have no reason to shed tears
*I'm so broken, *** I'm two shards away from gone.*
I can be the glue that holds you together. < holds you close > I will be here
*Glue always seems to wash away with me
< curls into a ball >*
Then I'm industrial welding. I'll be here for as long as you need and longer
Darling... you are a lovely piece of humanity, never lose that about you.
Please just hang on [my real name]. I couldn't bear losing you.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 8:15 PM UTC
I am always growing stronger.
I crack and I build
I crack and I build
Welding back together parts of myself
To strengthen.
Not all cracks heal seamlessly.
I am always crumbling.
Breaking at the fissions
Falling a few feet
Always climbing back up again.
Always growing stronger.
I crack and I build.
I just wish I didn't crack so often.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
Small marvels burst forth!
From your home, Perseus
Ten thousand bursts of incandescence
Streaking through a pitch black canvas
Meeting their immobile brethren
For but a moment
Their tails welding the spots
Chaining their beauty together
Making a millisecond masterpiece
As it pursues it's dance across the sky
Creating many more
Before it fades
Into the dark from which it burst
After finding new horizons
And having enamored all
It rains down
Spread out as many
Through our observing eyes
Directly to our hearts
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 1:22 AM UTC
Anxious for my
Afternoon embalming.
Flushed free,
Laying down the masonry
Of trees yet
To be.
I must confess I want a jack and ginger.
My favorite manieur de mots,
Your offspring making
Silk of my spit.
Two book wormholes,
Circumventing travel,
Welding my smoggy sand castle
To the grey island you anchor.
Would you care to
Fatten up Elpis
With me?
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC
*An oracle possessed by a spirit disquieted,
he contains a world unknown even to himself,
a poem gets written by itself, within himself,
organizing material eclectically on its own
from roots to crust, essence of experiences,
mingle with hopes, fears and yearnings,
creating alloys of emotions, welding words to mean different,
fixing formations and evocative images,
when he stops contended, unfinished yet, many parts in dark still,
then the readers get themselves invited in to the thickets,
disentangle the vines, make way through the foliage thick,
hanging branches and twigs, light falls in the darkened corners,
the poet and creator, the oracle himself, sits looking at the flowers and fruits
bathed in a new light, on what the subconscious spoke,
when he listens, the singing of the birds acquires new meaning,
sound of the running brook has a rhythm not familiar,
that take him to the sea, where all end in a swim, like in a dream*
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC