Tag Archives: poetry

Left-Handed Chronicles: 3

26 Jul

My regularity imposes itself on your most highly esteemed foot, twice or once I’ve been in danger of receiving from you  that dirty look, or have I mistook, from over that book, and admiring-ation for a disgruntled, hook-like shadowy smirk, plastered on a muddy red-eyed normality-embracing blank canvas…I took from your book about politics, that soot only need mentioning once to make moot a noble reputation, a pure discomplication, a kind word, backwards, and destroying reason for condescension—

That your eyes could speak less, and your heart more.
That your breath would create less condensation and be a lovely sensation to hear.
You’ve created the perfect environment for bacteria to fester in these temporal canals,
these sound channels,
these hearing animals,
these listening mammals.


Left-Handed Chronicles: 2 (Affection)

26 Jul

I am watching from my window sill fearing for my life.
Singing about my tired eyes, humming for my nose.

Watching and waiting, watching and waiting.

My garden is an eternity, a forever plastic spring. Softly hold my sweater babe, it’s chilly and I’m fickle, sweetie. And only touch my toes when I’m starving for it, but it’s always you and I alone know it. Heart!

Our simple mouths have always been awful at metaphor.
But our simple lips have never needed it.
But honey, sometimes I get so bored.

And I adorn my lips with it.
Sweet and sticky.
But syrup on me just feels so sickly.

Does it look it?

But now back to the cosmos….

Left-Handed Chronicles: 1

15 Jul

As I write on this bench, my legs grass’ floor, the thought occurs to me, of which I hasten to say more. This shaky thriller’s pen impedes me a bit, though with breath and experience, I may correct the tilt. Ho!, though, Woah! though, as I remember to meditate, but no, Oh, Lo, so, no one is at the gate; and I must refuse my breath it’s bait…for your’s and clarity’s sake.
I see shadows and suspicion, may well be by own natural disposition, paranoia my hateful friend, cousin to a neurotic affliction – A flick of the wrist, a glare of hers and his and my mind creates the competition – A step ‘pon a step, a creak or a click, my mind will generate a thousand boundless dystopic conclusions.

Because hop, skip,

hop, skip,

hop, skip,


Left-Handed Chronicles

15 Jul

So writing with your left hand is hot stuff. I renewed my battle against non-ambidexterity and decided to multitask by learning to write at the same time. Mostly I’ll probably do train-of-thought and go with the flow. But yeah, I’ve found it’s much easier to rhyme, and write (loosely speaking) poetry, with my left hand! Pretty cool stuff. So I’ll post that now.

feelings and thoughts reblog

14 Jul

“Not recklessly shoving them into a useless chain of over-thinking, but rather stalk them into productive thoughts; into creativity.”

Often what traps me. Trying to force it instead of following it….especially when I am in the moment….and then I need a pen….and everyone around me becomes frustrated. I ask to borrow their brains xD Partly hold this thought, but more like, assist me as I think out loud, follow me into my mind, but of course, they can’t manage that. I love all this though. This entire post is love poetry and lucid perfection. This is a complete thought because it is life and can’t hold the fullness of it’s definition. It’s like it’s own universe. And I completely agree and simultaneously question what it voices. And I’m in love with it and, initially speaking in description but now speaking literally, want to put it on the wall of my mind palace, haha, now that I know such a thing is actually a thing and have created one for myself. I am having trouble….or well…it’s supposed to be a memory cue thing right….Okay, getting off-topic now….

The R Premises

There is a thought growing in my head. Wilder and wilder. I cannot tame, I cannot domesticate. I cannot suppress to fall within the meaningless margins of logic. There are feelings that bounce with every heart beat. Contradictory and controversial. I cannot tone down, I cannot keep inside for too long. I cannot  incorporate into the barracks of sense. There is music, playing at the back of my head. Shuffling, with the shuffling of my thoughts and feelings. I cannot pause, I cannot mute. I can only keep it playing, louder and louder…

I think, therefore I am. I feel, therefore I exist.

What are we without the complexity our thoughts impose? What are we without the turmoil of emotions and unexplained feelings we behold? Both are interlinked, our thoughts and feelings. Both collide. Both bounce in ourselves making our existence worth living.

Every thought counts. No matter how trivial…

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Hop, Sing

7 Jul

I hop, I sing, I skip-

I’m stuck.

I breathe fire, I’m free, I laugh, Haaaa-

-Ah! I gasp.

I’m exuberant and glorious! I’m shining, I’m the sun!


I’m cold.

and wet.

and scared.

I refuse to be bottled. I demand to be let free.

Writhing wrists, defiant fists….

I think we should be singing. Maybe….

I am transfixed. I am uncertain.

for an eternity I am uncertain.

even my death will be uncertain.


…With that said, I wish my poetry had more intelligence in it. But one step at a time, right? This is the first poem I’ve made in a while, after all. And I’ve never been a fan of poetry. Like a lot of modern poets or casual teenage poets who write it….hehe. Ah well. A lazier and easier way of expressing yourself while still being a bit interesting and creative in the delivery. Some mystery and hinting. Like how everything now is an inside-joke or an inside-thing. Which might also be okay, who knows. So many people.