Submissions by DiaryoftheNow
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
In the end, we can only hope to be a little deeper into the woods, a little more lost, a little further from home.
LOVE POEM
Published
9th Mar 2019 10:43am
9th Mar 2019 10:43am
The Dichotomy of My Dove
In the mind's eye,
As an imperfect measure,
As an imperfect judge.
(Apparition of the twelve apostles
their saintly kiss in Alaskan Blue,
a nightmare or freak fantasy
In the deep purples of electricity.)
Only understood backwards,
Only good upside down,
Believed only in reverse.
(A ruby dimple pressed gently,
caress carefully and fully
the gossamer, painfully sketched
and breathlessly scented scene.)
It's unlikely to be chance, ...
As an imperfect measure,
As an imperfect judge.
(Apparition of the twelve apostles
their saintly kiss in Alaskan Blue,
a nightmare or freak fantasy
In the deep purples of electricity.)
Only understood backwards,
Only good upside down,
Believed only in reverse.
(A ruby dimple pressed gently,
caress carefully and fully
the gossamer, painfully sketched
and breathlessly scented scene.)
It's unlikely to be chance, ...
#love
#romantic
#beauty
#ForbiddenLove
#passion
514 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
3rd Jan 2019 9:59am
3rd Jan 2019 9:59am
Poem 3 (Homeless Hero)
I went out,
Guided by the principle of
least action and a new God.
The homeless were sewn tightly
to the backs of my minds,
Some of them arrive
with a universe ready to articulate itself,
like picking at a scab.
Others build themselves up like a
lopsided cathedral,
Or a three legged dog.
When I was little,
Wisdom had told me
Every disaster, storm, or death is a
dance, a fête, a soirée.
I hope when you die you can still
recite the theorem from heart.
That you remember our dances...
Guided by the principle of
least action and a new God.
The homeless were sewn tightly
to the backs of my minds,
Some of them arrive
with a universe ready to articulate itself,
like picking at a scab.
Others build themselves up like a
lopsided cathedral,
Or a three legged dog.
When I was little,
Wisdom had told me
Every disaster, storm, or death is a
dance, a fête, a soirée.
I hope when you die you can still
recite the theorem from heart.
That you remember our dances...
#homelessness
#honesty
#oppression
602 reads
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
19th Dec 2018 5:25am
19th Dec 2018 5:25am
The Great American Reverie
Experience ferments,
Grows rotten on the tongue,
Sour like green steak,
Or blackened fuzzy fruits.
I am mother and father,
A levee against the great western tide,
A prolapse of dissuasion,
A flower of discontent.
Standing on the expanding banks
Of the Chesapeake bay,
Of the boston harbour,
On the shores of the Staten.
Irises deepening
All histories and miscomunications,
All blood and bitter world-views,
A blithering connaissance.
Comming down sandlots and wagontrails, ...
Grows rotten on the tongue,
Sour like green steak,
Or blackened fuzzy fruits.
I am mother and father,
A levee against the great western tide,
A prolapse of dissuasion,
A flower of discontent.
Standing on the expanding banks
Of the Chesapeake bay,
Of the boston harbour,
On the shores of the Staten.
Irises deepening
All histories and miscomunications,
All blood and bitter world-views,
A blithering connaissance.
Comming down sandlots and wagontrails, ...
#America
#SelfReflection
#historical
#apathy
#HumanRights
530 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
19th Dec 2018 4:46am
19th Dec 2018 4:46am
Poem 2 (Keep Turning)
I met god and he smelt like an original idea,
sporting a tattered trench coat and insane hair,
Like I saw in the pictures once.
The national consciousness was diving head first
into the shallow end of the pools of knowledge,
the life guard said fuck 'em and we had a good laugh.
Everything became really confusing,
And the pattern of it all made it worse,
Nothing could be distinguished.
"I'm going to throw up, I'm so excited."
-Words from next door
In a constant state of bedroom eyes.
We were holding silence, ...
sporting a tattered trench coat and insane hair,
Like I saw in the pictures once.
The national consciousness was diving head first
into the shallow end of the pools of knowledge,
the life guard said fuck 'em and we had a good laugh.
Everything became really confusing,
And the pattern of it all made it worse,
Nothing could be distinguished.
"I'm going to throw up, I'm so excited."
-Words from next door
In a constant state of bedroom eyes.
We were holding silence, ...
#anger
#love
#identity #inequality
#identity #inequality
431 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
8th Nov 2018 1:12am
8th Nov 2018 1:12am
Poem 1 (Father is a Holy Roller)
Good intent, psychosematically bent.
Made uncertain, behind the curtain, in the water's rise
I walk and wade, by the brook where my father prays,
quakes, and cries.
A subsect, of a subsect, of a particular intellect,
But for the unintentioned, mathematician, a contradiction,
a lie.
We face castration, for masturbation,
for a passion, or an action,
The song goes on, ressentiment stinks of irritation
the song is loud and long, vaguely appalacian,
an old hymn, melody, written in four part harmony
For the violin, the...
Made uncertain, behind the curtain, in the water's rise
I walk and wade, by the brook where my father prays,
quakes, and cries.
A subsect, of a subsect, of a particular intellect,
But for the unintentioned, mathematician, a contradiction,
a lie.
We face castration, for masturbation,
for a passion, or an action,
The song goes on, ressentiment stinks of irritation
the song is loud and long, vaguely appalacian,
an old hymn, melody, written in four part harmony
For the violin, the...
#love
#heartbroken
#emptiness #inequality
#emptiness #inequality
585 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
1st Nov 2018 10:25pm
1st Nov 2018 10:25pm
Insular Bliss
I'm as undone as any seatbelt,
or a busload of crosses,
criss-crossed on the side
of the road.
I'm as cold as any dead
horseshoe crab,
crawling out of a famine,
riding bright and black
and apocalyptic.
The music of mathematics,
Like a low lovely rattle,
a savoir to a dusty death.
Eyes as wide as any November day,
Family, a word, an ideal,
Imploded inside of me,
Now I long for love.
or a busload of crosses,
criss-crossed on the side
of the road.
I'm as cold as any dead
horseshoe crab,
crawling out of a famine,
riding bright and black
and apocalyptic.
The music of mathematics,
Like a low lovely rattle,
a savoir to a dusty death.
Eyes as wide as any November day,
Family, a word, an ideal,
Imploded inside of me,
Now I long for love.
#love
#hope
#family
#despair
#inequality
574 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
31st Oct 2018 1:51pm
31st Oct 2018 1:51pm
Euphoria
What euphoria holds itself in the waters of a dimly lit speedway, what wonder must reveal itself behind each shutter of a suburban window, of each squalid shop of the beloved city, remnants of weary engineering and sleepy days daining away into the tax payer’s storm drains. Bureaucracy and complexity mix like oil and water, a socio-chemical solution to the simply impossible problem of existence.
Ode to the dirty laudro mats and ugly pawn shops, ode to the latin influence, as instilled into me as any dream ever could be. Ode to repetitive housing, cul-de-sacs, late night subway...
Ode to the dirty laudro mats and ugly pawn shops, ode to the latin influence, as instilled into me as any dream ever could be. Ode to repetitive housing, cul-de-sacs, late night subway...
#culture
#responsibility
#PopCulture
505 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
30th Oct 2018 2:58am
30th Oct 2018 2:58am
This Circus
In this circus,
the piano plays itself.
In this circus,
No one settles down.
In this circus,
No one ever laughs.
In this circus,
All the freaks are in the crowd.
the piano plays itself.
In this circus,
No one settles down.
In this circus,
No one ever laughs.
In this circus,
All the freaks are in the crowd.
#identity
#culture
#politics
637 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by DiaryoftheNow
