Eyes see
yet it is the heart
that translates
ears mere cone carriers,
the many voices truly one's own
(schizoid nature of senses)
looking out we see in --
listening we hearken to
ignited self vocabularies
nothing concisely as it seems
Poe’s myriad dreams~ within dreams --
I'm here for the critiqueful, with an eclectic
Resum'e not quite yet-full.? Interested in pure
Poetry ' raw un-bridled full emotively ' such essence
I pursue.. Sometimes energetically.' Other times
It indeed (corners me') evaporating all that is me
Till i am but, aware of a great vacancy.' That allows
For much thought vagrancy.' I gasp and out-grasp
And also mentally.' At the birth of vocabularies
Eventfully distending, my awareness and creduality.'
Draw close reader...Tell me of your current
Observancy.?
Words are born and some change, adapt, some wilt;
Norse drips into French seeps into English, hidden treasures under silt.
Blendings swirl meanings and semantics shift our daily use;
once uttered by tongue, electric touch now lets language loose.
Ancient lexis under threat became narrower with colonial treks;
Luhu and Yahagn, two dodo vocabularies now buried within texts.
Fingers intertwined in
wondrous oneness
together foreverness
breathtaking bliss
Eye to eye in
lyrical longing
melodic memories
soul symmetry
Backs turned to
bygone brokenness
solitary sanctums
heartbroken hibernation
Face to face in
aromatic anecdotes
possibility potpourri
enmeshed essences
Voices join in
rondos of rendezvous
chorales of compatibility
madrigals of mutuality
Heart to heart in
a fulcrum of fulfillment
a seesaw of serendipities
a trapeze of timelessness
Lips engaged in
passion's pendulum
voluptuous vocabularies
intoxicating innuendoes
She is lyrics and I am music
~ harmonizing a hypnotizing love song ~
a dizzying duet of delight
Squabbling and shouting is our normal,
not in other’s prissy persnickety vocabularies.
Hoarders, we climb over rats to get to our clothes
Others envy us this luxury
No one bathes; the bathtub houses stacks of magazines.
You can throw a half-eaten sandwich behind the couch
the flowered one or the one with the stripes?
Who cares? No one.
There is a smell; possibly a body, lurking about.
We get used to it, my brothers and sisters and I.
Slurping our tomato soup with our elbows on the table.
Mom and Dad are nowhere, having left years ago.
We live like animals, spraying on perfume when we go out.
There is no reason for company, who needs it anyway?
There are eight of us if we need to play Monopoly.
I gather up the pieces from under the table.
The welfare people are here. I stand in front of the door.
Cautioning my seven siblings to be quiet, and they are.
No school for us; we like our hoarder world.
Shhhh!
I wish that we can completely understand
That the idea, belief and emotion of “shame”,
Does not belong in any being or any society.
And even the smallest traces and its poisonous effects
could simply vanish forever -
Out of our bodies, nervous systems, our hearts and heads.
Shame has also no place
In any religion!
And any God or self-righteous, holy leader
That uses shame in any way
Have sadly
probably never experienced
Or utterly forgotten,
How it feels
To be a cherished Son or Daughter,
Because no loving Father or Mother
Could consciously give such a toxic gift.
History will show
That the majority of the monstrous tyrants, dictators and leaders
Were deeply shamed as children.
And if we want complete healing
For ourselves and our Earth
This “shameful” and violent word
Should instantly and magically disappear
From our religious books, schools,
films and media, dictionaries and vocabularies.
© Sangeet Portals 2020
It arises
From a tangled emotional mind
through crazy tongues inane
from intellectual brain sane
or may be straight from heart
It dons
Rich vocabularies to enrich content;
Rare adjectives, the special add-ons
And at times archaic words to adorn
or sometimes just a simple verse
It comes in
Perfect meter to look perfect
Proper rhymes that read better
New forms which form trend setter
or sometimes goes just with the flow
It boasts of
Podium win and the adorned crown
Top placement, shared with people around
Honourable placement, stated down
Or umpteen n numbered N/As
Be it a serious content or hilarious limerick
Either a Short tanka or the longest writing
Every words we pen come from within
Ain't that bad to categorize: best and worst
Are not every poetry and poets' word(s)worth???
Scarce the commute of discourse between our towns,
the dialogue of ripened vocabularies; poking, peaking, & miseries
from broken vows. With company, who will break the bones
of silence so our turnaround can make a cocktail
for me to drink after what we did to our poor selves?
Say something, so you can punch me hard in the gut. Be one
with me, sleep inside, warn yourself, not your usual
eight inches apart on a sleigh bed with no bells ringing
in your disregard. Something told me if I pursue,
you'll be face-first on the floor, then up and gone.
I believe it is better if they can tell the next guests
it is whiskey on their bed cloth, but they will know the difference.
If they are drunks, her blackened eyes can feel
the hurting in my stomach, his wicked hands are more
like what I want; the punching, something zealous in my gut.
I seem never far flung from thoughts supreme and a my/their/your/importance to things at/of a conscious cramped mind. If thinking is Activity,
Thoughts, action streams that flow from equal amounts of
"Spirits" aplenty-a necessary catalyst and music, yes
Music the ****** of word birth, unknown, exacting, pure,
coital corporeal, clean corded from an ancient womb world,
then I am a premiere primary post partum poet,
pious and plentiful, panoramic and primal----
least of which I follow the noneany standards of
prose polished rule constraints of useless
ninny-nanny nonsense frivolity of any/all nil/nothing of
menial meanderings of less viable word wit-tent.
Everything id intended by therefore their "crowd" creators,
lest us/we behold that soulless saturated
stingy sick mass raptures of wordly whiny wimp
wis-dumbectomies, courtesy of ignorant intenders
that soils its rhymes via elementary elusive exaggerations
for the masses of asses with
vocabularies of molasses
when they read-listen-write-wrong rewrite
a pontious plight in that life Ass-ignment ignorant driven
illicit class of uncreative writings of Life. Tragedy 101
Every dream that anyone ever has is theirs alone and they never manage to share it. And they never manage to remember it either. Not truly or accurately. Not as it was. Our memories and our vocabularies aren't up to the job. ~Alex Garland
My
dreams are
stories from
which I sometimes
wake; the characters
and fascinating plot
fresh inside my mind. Wishing
to capture one with words, I trace
it, only to have it fall apart. . .
for - after all - my stories are just dreams.
Aug. 10, 2019
Writing Challenge 1, August 2019 - Just Write - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Dear Heart
Racist
By: Miracle Man
7/17/2019
Vocabularies store this word,
Which often inflames.
It’s become widely used verbiage,
In our political games.
It’s spewed each time,
It benefits a sensed need.
To propel their message,
Onto a liberal news feed.
“To live anywhere in the world today and be against equality
because of race or color is like living in Alaska and being against snow”
William Faulkner
Pride
By: Tom Wright
9/26/00
Lord,
Help us gather our pride,
And from our vocabularies sift.
Oft used words, me and I,
Hastily casting both adrift.
For prideful words are as fuel,
Propelling our souls toward hell.
Leaving many to perish,
While under pride's spell.
As we examine hearts, and words
We should readily see.
That it isn't we or I,
But that old pronoun Thee.
Attitude
Tom Wright
11-10-2016
Discouraging words are uttered every day,
And the most hurtful I hear is “I don’t care.”
Dudes get uptight when not getting their way,
That is more lamebrain than a barrel of hair.
Not caring about things is a bad place to live,
And from our vocabularies we should abolish.
Thinking only of one’s self with nothing to give,
Exposes us as being thoughtless and smallish;
Mental Toughness
Written: by Tom Wright
6/16/2018
Mental toughness drives tough old birds,
It sums up our lives with just two words.
An optimistic attitude is what we bring,
And motivates us beyond issues that ding;
Our glass is half full each minute of time,
We march lockstep to our own paradigm.
This defines who we are and who you see,
I happily say, tough old birds, includes me.
We never surrender but will fight to the end,
No matter what warning realities might send.
Believers view give up as being unusable words,
And no shows in vocabularies of Tough Old Birds;
Tranquility
Words constrict the silence
disturbing the peace
of unlimited tranquility..
Words float briefly
in an infinite tranquil sea..
Islands perhaps..floating.. and disappearing
and becoming once more the sea..
The tranquil sea gives birth to a plethora of
words and expressions..vocabularies dancing..
and fading..
Tranquility is that which we are
and which we are longing to know:
our present national lament...
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