Digital Addiction

(I had a different title for this originally and it's AWESOME, but it deserves a better poem, so here I go trying to write about feeling again. This feeling shit gets kind of old sometimes...)

Digital Addiction

Drumming fingers on my cell phone,

craving the vibration that tells me

you want to reach me.

Checking text messages,

yearning for validation of my emotions,

feeling barren, stark.

Brush away a single tear,

this languishing is ridiculous I know;

I deteriorate into a vacant ache.

Compose a message to tell you, but

eloquence is just out of reach,

I cannot send you amassed brooding.

Devoid of coherent thought,

I am hollowed out and cannot communicate.

Put the phone away.

Forbearing

(thanks Sandy, it's almost what I want...)

Forbearing

Stinging, searing, blinding --

your hiemal moods bring snow,

my soul's adytum nearly ices over.

I patiently abrade the frost,

enduring, passive, hoping for a good one --

always altruistic.

I am no quean, just lavish with my canticles and

I am without fear.

Word Nerd

(it doesn't make sense, I know, just enjoy the plays on words please)

Word Nerd, or: Ode to my Love for Language

I'd like to proposition you with this preposition,

but you're just too possessive, I'm driven to run-on.

Now we're tense; don't be such an oxymoron,

I dash from your conjunctions.

Modify this you homophone!

I feel so verb, which, by definition,

means I have vague etymology.

I can't leave you -- you're my palindrome.

Period.

Astray

(mmm, I know... I know...)

Astray

Obscured footsteps,

mislaid laughter.

Wandering wayward without.

Lavish consumption,

bereaved wishes.

Feeble forgotten folly.

Blurred direction,

hidden tears.

Astray absorbed abstraction.

Adumbrate

Finally got rid of those pesky crushes! Merci Dieu!

Adumbrate

Camouflaged in abstruse…
you cannot see the ensconced slivers.
Ambiguously fragmented,
tucked away in shrouds of obscurity.
Locked up lying low,
you don’t ever need to know.
Furtively defective, but
disguising the marred dull spots.
Stifling the cracks and
harboring poorly disguised mutilations,
you try to peek through the curtain
straining to see how I’m mangled behind this veil.
Riven… fractured… hidden enigmatically,
it is all suppressed, reticent.
Smiling facades.

Crushes

Anytime I have a crush it irritates me beyond belief. I honestly loathe this state of being so having three crushes just annoys me to no end. I was trying to write about the stupidity I feel regarding aforementioned inanity but I wrote this so late at night that I don't have any idea if it makes much sense.

Quelling Crushes
I am an imbecile,
Self scurrilous due to my
Possibly pusillanimous nature.
I regain my deadpan, nigh dudgeon, and
Based on principle, deny the plangency
--pulse--
You cannot inveigle my usufruct,
The mere idea of taction is
torrefying (somatic)
And I slip into imbroglio –
Preposterous tardiloquous…
You seem ignorant of my deviations,
remain steadfast and sapient,
everything uniformly in its place.
Despite my incommodious lifestyle,
I find myself the ullage, unable to be the desideratum,
I leave you wanting.
Uneath and trustful, but I will never let you know.

Sometimes I like Rhymes

(get it? get it? "sometimes" rhymes with "rhymes". I'm so clever I know...)

Independent
I assert that life is hurt(ing).
I’m alone but I don’t bemoan this fate,
I brought it to my own plate.
Independent no defendant I stand up
For what I believe and unfortunately…
Believing is leaving is grieving.
I know you misconceive what I perceive to be true.
What is truth? Even the best sleuth cannot find –
Shhhh. Don’t talk about it.

Clever

Yep...

Clever
She pulls at the frills on her dress,
wondering when he’ll come.
Raindrops pelt the window –
she looks through them.
What is this emotional trickery?
She refuses to beg for this,
chasing sugar to no avail.
Costumed in her nonchalance,
she is so clever…
He’ll never know.
She pulls at the frills on her dress,
and cries silently behind the drapes.

Extirpation of my Guise

This happened once... right before the person left. I doubt he'll ever read it, so I'm not that concerned about it sucking ;)

Extirpation of my Guise
You bury your face in my right shoulder,
the second hand ticks, but fails to tock…
time has stopped for us.
With this one gesture,
you have completely devastated my façade…
I surrender.
Rest my head against your chest,
thinking about absolutely nothing –
a feat never before possible.

Who's to say

Writin' during lunch break -- what what?

Who's to say...

Who’s to say…
what family means?
Bound by blood, bound by heart.
Who’s to say…
where I am to place my affections?
Emotions are not subject to rules and regulations.
Who’s to say…
how I express my fervor and ardour?
Paper thin greetings cards and empty sentiments.
Who’s to say…
who I love?
What is love?

I had a title for this just a second ago...

And now I can't remember. This is why I shouldn't write in my head while I'm trying to go to sleep. --
Addendum 27 June: oh now I remember...

A Lot Goes Unsaid

I meet you at the gate,
converse over the fence.
You drum your fingers on the latch,
I smile and bid you farewell.
Go back in the house – days pass.
I see you go by the gate,
run outside and you just wave.
I drum my fingers on the fence,
stare into the distance and pretend.
Go back in the house – weeks pass.
You slip through the gate,
pull me into you.
Our fingers cannot pull us closer,
the world melts around us.
Run back in the house – you are gone.