Submissions by Duality
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Honestly, I consider myself more of a philosopher than a poet. However, I've never hesitated to embrace my bohemian roots, so call me what you wish as far as the arts go.
LOVE POEM
Published
10th Apr 2015 6:00am
10th Apr 2015 6:00am
What Goes Together
Pancakes and syrup
Lemons and limes
Pins and needles
Space and time
Roses are red,
Violets are blue
Like 2 + 2
Me and you
Or maybe…
A laugh and a smile
The little things and a little while
Like floor and tile
Good and Bad news
Both false and true
Like scissors and glue,
Me and you…
What goes together
Should stay together
Now is the end
The present is forever
The future’s never here
The past is what we treasure
It takes two for things to work together
It takes two for things to work...
Lemons and limes
Pins and needles
Space and time
Roses are red,
Violets are blue
Like 2 + 2
Me and you
Or maybe…
A laugh and a smile
The little things and a little while
Like floor and tile
Good and Bad news
Both false and true
Like scissors and glue,
Me and you…
What goes together
Should stay together
Now is the end
The present is forever
The future’s never here
The past is what we treasure
It takes two for things to work together
It takes two for things to work...
771 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
3rd Apr 2015 3:46am
3rd Apr 2015 3:46am
Reprise
Once upon a time, I was a baby
Once upon a twice, the world came to be.
This is a story about how
My life’s been twisted through my vain philosophy
And this is just how it goes.
Hungry but won't eat
Thirsty but won't drink
Tired but won't sleep
Tied to ends that don't meet
A world without lines
A world with outlines
This world’s doing double time
In a world debating its own reprise.
I am entropy defined, an amorphous benign and sublime kind of devouring design.
You can call it broken, mock me if you will
If I can...
Once upon a twice, the world came to be.
This is a story about how
My life’s been twisted through my vain philosophy
And this is just how it goes.
Hungry but won't eat
Thirsty but won't drink
Tired but won't sleep
Tied to ends that don't meet
A world without lines
A world with outlines
This world’s doing double time
In a world debating its own reprise.
I am entropy defined, an amorphous benign and sublime kind of devouring design.
You can call it broken, mock me if you will
If I can...
906 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
30th Nov 2014 1:57am
30th Nov 2014 1:57am
Freeform
Free form
A breeze, a storm
What do you call poetry with no rhythm, no rhyme,
No sense of time, but you can see it with the mind’s eye
The eye of the storm, where dreams are born?
But don’t get me wrong. Poetry doesn’t have to have a spine
Or legwork to stand on it’s own.
Free form
Forlorn, a spree
A forgotten philosophy
A mind numbing, lightning fast ascent
and with our heads in the clouds
It's a signing contract
That pays no price
This form is free
The lines keep coming
The bars in a row
Like a prison, I’m a...
A breeze, a storm
What do you call poetry with no rhythm, no rhyme,
No sense of time, but you can see it with the mind’s eye
The eye of the storm, where dreams are born?
But don’t get me wrong. Poetry doesn’t have to have a spine
Or legwork to stand on it’s own.
Free form
Forlorn, a spree
A forgotten philosophy
A mind numbing, lightning fast ascent
and with our heads in the clouds
It's a signing contract
That pays no price
This form is free
The lines keep coming
The bars in a row
Like a prison, I’m a...
791 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
7th Oct 2014 4:02am
7th Oct 2014 4:02am
Fit for the Seasons
I love it.
I love all of it.
I love how the leaves set ablaze
And oh, how autumn’s ember cascades
But the days can only get colder, I would think
As if to commemorate summer’s resignation
As well as nature’s last breaths in the heat of the moment
I love it
I love it more than I should
I love how the flowers have grown
And oh, how they rise to the top as they drown
But you begin to wonder how every time you plant one,
With a vain desire to avoid your inadvertent attempt to kill the seed,
You pat the dirt with your spade as if to say...
I love all of it.
I love how the leaves set ablaze
And oh, how autumn’s ember cascades
But the days can only get colder, I would think
As if to commemorate summer’s resignation
As well as nature’s last breaths in the heat of the moment
I love it
I love it more than I should
I love how the flowers have grown
And oh, how they rise to the top as they drown
But you begin to wonder how every time you plant one,
With a vain desire to avoid your inadvertent attempt to kill the seed,
You pat the dirt with your spade as if to say...
904 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
17th Mar 2014 8:52pm
17th Mar 2014 8:52pm
Wired
We fill the air with noise
As we beg it go away
But the chaos is too poised,
And too petty your dismay
We tell ourselves we’re busy
It’s really just our fear
So we try to travel easy
With no destination clear…
Yet still we wander…
And still, we wander…
There always comes a point to which
You don’t know you contaminate
The cleanliness that is tomorrow’s
Ease, but now it’s your mistake
Just upon the simple thought that
You’ve a lack of tasks at hand,
Makes you apprehend your purpose;
Now...
As we beg it go away
But the chaos is too poised,
And too petty your dismay
We tell ourselves we’re busy
It’s really just our fear
So we try to travel easy
With no destination clear…
Yet still we wander…
And still, we wander…
There always comes a point to which
You don’t know you contaminate
The cleanliness that is tomorrow’s
Ease, but now it’s your mistake
Just upon the simple thought that
You’ve a lack of tasks at hand,
Makes you apprehend your purpose;
Now...
866 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
13th Mar 2014 11:42pm
13th Mar 2014 11:42pm
The Man on the Pier
I saw a man on a pier one day
Staring out into the sea
Immovable in body, mind, and soul
Then it became apparent to me
His face, wrinkled and stretched
Every contour of significant degree
Told stories of the days of old when men had time,
But only feet and light were both to grow weary
The hair on his face grew like ivy on a building
Whose foundations had parted from the earth its purpose had been bound
And had worn into rubble
His stature suggested a thirst of higher order
But could not think itself to be quenched. ...
Staring out into the sea
Immovable in body, mind, and soul
Then it became apparent to me
His face, wrinkled and stretched
Every contour of significant degree
Told stories of the days of old when men had time,
But only feet and light were both to grow weary
The hair on his face grew like ivy on a building
Whose foundations had parted from the earth its purpose had been bound
And had worn into rubble
His stature suggested a thirst of higher order
But could not think itself to be quenched. ...
822 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Duality
