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Thursday, April 28, 2016

Silently the seconds slither by
Hypnotic
Soothing serpentine and sly.

Saturday, February 13, 2016

I've been reading and focused on the "bread-and-butter". Sorry for not posting any new poems. Sometimes I feel like my muse /|\ has abandoned me, I'm sure she is still with me. I believe she is waiting for me to come to some conclusion, I seem unable to arrive at (currently). I'm also certain that this inability to produce anything of any creative value is somehow beneficial, not sure how beyond: it has taught me to truly value the days (moments, times, &c.) when the poetry flows from within. I just figured I owe anyone who follows or checks out the site an update, and to explain to them (you) why there hasn't been any production as of late. Thanks to all who continue to stop by and read a bit, and I hope that some of the work entertains you. 

Thursday, December 24, 2015

Holiday Cheer


It would be selfish and immature to complain;
So I grin, bear it, and simply abstain. 
A.D.

Saturday, December 5, 2015

Mark me (always love any opportunity to use that phrase d: ) I shall be back; I've got to finish getting my life together in a financial/romantic sense. Once I accomplish that (or I suppose those things) I shall resume posting. Hope any and all who stop by to visit enjoy, and thanks to those who are always there for me. Happy holidays... Merry Occasion lol noodles

Monday, October 26, 2015

Möbius

Sharpening the brain
Oh what a pain
Repeating with stress, reiteration of strain

Spherical madness makes minds insane

Persisting with stress, preservation of strain
Oh what a pain
Sharpening the brain 

Composed by A.D.

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

My Complaints and Worries

Release
Release 

I write everything twice
I write everything twice 
If it's worth retention 
If it's worth retention 

If I only write it once
If I only write it once
It's worth no mention
It's worth no mention

Peace
Peace

Composed by: A.D.
Composed by: A.D.

Thursday, May 14, 2015

I eavesdrop on the early conversation
Between the dust and the breath,
Between the concrete and aerial.
The cement is lamenting soles departed,
While the wind predicts fog in the future.
Their discourse is, initially, indistinct;
Yet I sense it... - transmits a gradation -
A tint, a hint... Memory of life passed...

(Suddenly a shadow decides to interject
His communication articulation lacks respect
His speech is direct and in direct
Contrast to the previous two.
He has no intrest in bygone or by-and-by
Selfishly soils the soil neglects the sky
All he discusses at length is the i
Praising ignorance arrogance brutality too)

... With the trespass of the fierce shade
Remembrance, reverence, abode, and aether fade.
Substance, significance - what mattered ceases to.
The sensible and natural - is anything true?

Composed by: A.D.
 
As always I took some poetic license with the punctuation, hope you enjoy. If anything is unclear, comment and I'll clarify.


Slasrever lanruid

Sunshine, moonlight
Encircled the bright
Sunshine, moonlight
Encompassed the night

Sunshine, moonlight
The resonant device
Sunshine, moonlight
Placed in cognitive vise

Moonlight, sunshine
Ventral and dorsal splice
Moonlight, sunshine
Perspective - the price

Moonlight, sunshine
Round the temporal cline
Moonlight, sunshine
Force and form intertwine

Composed By: A.D.

Sunday, May 10, 2015

"Live For Today"


Cursive motions
Words on a paper
Floating oceans
Of dawn's vapor
Mist spilled obscuring the details
No dew - tepid ground prevails

What do the eyes behold
The world opaque and still
Precision is a story untold
Mystery countines to fill
Questions unanswered congest the air
Stress, and pause - relief, is where?

Delicately the haze continues to twirl
Beneath times rosy fingers which unfurl
When an observation becomes precedent 
"In" and "fore" - only "sight" is now relevant 
Suspended for a spell in this scene 
The beauty of the moment all that's seen.

Composed by: A.D.

Going minimalist in regards to punctuation on this one, hope you enjoy(ed)! Title is from a song I like by the Grass Roots (which I think also embodies the feeling of the poem).

Monday, April 20, 2015

Ashlar

Sitting on a bench, among these modern grids,
It feels as if love and nature are caryatids.
The passing crowd lost in their apps,
My mind congregates within its own apse.
Withdrawn, trapped in an oubliette,
A heart imprisoned by lonely regret.

Eyes notice rays reflecting on lintel, truss, and vault;
And the time in reflection seems  to slow to a halt.
The light cast upon each modern frieze
Causes all sorrow, and remiss, to freeze.
Existence - the contraposition is so odd;
Odd how life, and death, fill each facade.

The architecture of the city is a sacred library, 
And each structure is a book.
The bricks and their course - the vocabulary;
To understand one need only read and look.

Artists, authors, and architects gone and unknown;
But their lives - alive on canvas, page and stone.
Each projecting ideas from their own dais;
Each various choice and each artistic bias.

No longer alone, my senses and thoughts peregrinate;
But on one conception I continue to ruminate:
Although we may no longer have the creator's rivers and streams,
We are surrounded by contemporary creators visions and dreams.

Composed by: A.D.

Thursday, April 16, 2015

A Stalk Of Fennel

Strength and violence,
Their words deride;
But this vicious expense
My heart must abide.

Drive the wedge into this breast!
For love of mankind
God placed in a bind,
With scourge and isolation blest.

Adamant binds hands and legs,
Bonds were forged by Vulcan's fire.
In the cask of hope naught but dregs;
Outcast, downcast, an inverse spire.

Adrift, aloof, in this barren sea.
Alone - no love, no sympathy.
Only debris, each new degree
Of acceptance. Hope is empty.

The ocean's and river's daughters,
Serenade me while in these quarters.
In this torrid tempest, this undertow,
Sorrowful waves never cede, only grow.
This lonesome spell continues to swell,
A sea of solace betwixt paradise and hell.

I'm able to see, due to my gift of sight,
That: just like the artisan of the stolen light
This deep love of love, within this mold,
Will leave more than the mark of a cuckold;
Unseen scars of pain, though anticipated,
Hardly bearable when generated.

Fuck it! I took the spark knowing full well,
What awaited... This torment, this cell.
For had I not know my brother's case,
To bear the foundations of our mother and space?

Though now the wounds are borne 
With a heavy heart,
And at present the weight of the scorn 
Constricts joy's art;

In the future the Thunder's storms will clear,
So here I languish till that day draws near;
Bearing the incessant stress on the mind and the spine,
Till it's replaced by ambrosia and blood of the vine.

Composed By: A.D.


Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Por Que

The choices in diction
The voices - restriction
Each decision a battle
To clarify or to baffle

And what's the motivation
Point of poetic equivocation 
When creating a verbal enigma
Gives birth to a social stigma 

Accessibility - dammed by intellectual
Abstruse leaves the mass obtuse 
Love - then purported homosexual 
Hate profuse - exposed to equal abuse

In a play without any audience 
The acting makes little difference 
Symbols left in the dark, are hard to find;
And even with a spark, are missed by the blind.

Composed by: A.D.

Monday, March 30, 2015

Discriminative Lines

I hate you because you're black, and you because you're white; 
Skin as white as snow, and skin as dark as night.

I hate cliché, fuck using any sort of label,
I hate those who are disabled and those who are able.

I hate those lazy useless poor,
But the entitled rich I also abhor.

I hate the old and despise the young;
One past their prime, one full of come.

I hate the savage Americans, on my Native ground, just to be clear;
I hate you for being born far away, and you for being born near.

I hate the Asian, the Hispanic, and the Jew;
I hate all you motherfuckers, I hate you it's true.

I hate you because of your religion, your culture, and your race; 
And YOU... Well I just hate you because of your face.

I hate metaphor... What the fuck is it for?
I hate poetry and verse even more.

I hate searching for meaning, reading between the variety of various lines;
Finding some continuity, and overall relation among the different rhymes.

Only one thing, one people appeal to me
Those who belong to the label: "humanity".

Composed by: A.D.

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Sceptre of Iris

Something for the multitude who may never achieve
All the goals and dreams, their hearts might conceive;
All that really matters is: that you continue to believe.

Plant your seeds in earth and beware;
As seasons pass fertile fields may grow bare.
Storms may form, envelop, and impair.

In isolation, the typhoons we learn to bear.

Recognition is the freezing winter air;
A moment it encompasses, it`s everywhere,
Next – the gusts are no longer there.

Temporary is definite, and perennial – rare.

Joy easily transmutes into despair.
Clear skies, suddenly rainstorms ensnare;
Fortune, society, and life is unfair.

Find the simple between the serpentine pair.

Few will acknowledge, less – care,
Whether: you blaze towards the sky and glare…
Or spiral in descent, a dying flare.

As long as you push forward and continue to believe,
Little accomplishments you`ll find your will, will conceive;
And fuck those who don`t acknowledge what you achieve.


Composed By: A.D.

(Iris as in Greek Myth, not Isis... albeit, she (Isis) is awesome as well. Hope you enjoy).