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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Where you at boy?dots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Outlaw
    Elite Ratio:    8 - 510/413/194
    Words: 140
    Class/Type: Poetry/Serious
    Total Views: 1097
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 933



    Description:
       old text message.


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    dotsWhere you at boy?dots
    -------------------------------------------


    short, disabused and yet lost -
    this person that fills my night with quandaries
    a series of complexly sophisticated emotions
    that exist superficially, yet subsist preternaturally
    traveling from day to week, and then again to months
    disabused by relativity, appearing quite shortly
    and yet diffusing a presence whose longevity
    can be measured throughout an eternity.

    I held a momentary uncertainty in my arms
    strew the seeds of uncanny connectivity in the fields
    of a farm that spanned the phalanges of my index
    a compass pointing directly at her heart - or
    the exterior walls that defined its confines.
    there, in that place, a warmth emanated -
    only to dissipate all around; a rose on infertile grounds.

    if only I could hold it, stop it from spilling all over
    if only I could tell whether I cared about it




    Submitted on 2012-10-23 20:32:20     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I think Mr. Webster would love you. A theory of course, but I think I can back it up by use of your poems. “complexly sophisticated emotions” I like that tongue twister. It seems a failed connection was made despite the desires of one or the other. For some reason I wanted to be able to write a response, almost as if i were the person who this written towards. Though the only thing that kept popping into my head was this song I used to listen to a long while ago.

    The tips of my fingers are numb so it’s a bit hard to transcribe all of my thoughts on this. I have to admire your ability to write about something that is common for everyone, in an uncommon way.

    “I held a momentary uncertainty in my arms
    strew the seeds of uncanny connectivity in the fields”

    I think the majority of people who haunt this site can say they’ve held the same person, though their face ranges from dark to white, tall to short, blond to strawberry tresses. It’s nice to think of it in this way, almost as if in peoples sorrow or regret we find comradery. I, of course, like the reference to the ‘rose’. Though I’m have to thank you for not making it the color of someone’s lips or wind brushed cheeks : ) I always liked watching roses grow. I had an aunt who grew the best roses. They would climb up her house on sturdy trellises. Well thinking that maybe her ability to grow something so beautiful had to be genetic I went out and bout my mother (this was when I was 16) a rose that was orange with pink tips. One of those genetically modified beauties. It turned into something small and crumbly. It vaguely resembled a rose, though the outline fought as hard as it could to reclaim it’s perceived shape. So the analogy of a ‘rose on infertile grounds’ resonates beautifully for me.

    I have to say though; I am in a smart ass mood. If I were this girl I’d response with this
    --->



    Ms. Tint

    (I hope I'm not over stepping myself here by spamming your poem page with videos)
    | Posted on 2012-10-24 00:00:00 | by ARoseyTint | [ Reply to This ]
      You seem to be speaking of a lover here. I don't understand the indifference you wind up with. She inspires "a series of complexly sophisticated emotions
    that exist superficially" as you conceive them but you recognize that they "subsist preternaturally". Almost like wisdoms that have been handed down that you say have been "disabused by relativity" even though their sooth seems to have a life of its own (perhaps socially).

    This lover this "momentary uncertainty" with which you "Strew the seeds of uncanny connectivity" on the farm of your mentality, but when your compass leads you to the warmth of her heart her emanations fall on infertile ground. Perhaps this girl is too emotionally febrile. I don't understand this emotionally detached state. Are you uncertain of your value to her heart thinking what difference will it make one way or the other if I care. Or perhaps uncertain of the outcome of her spilling it all over you and your farm. In any case your uncertain wether you care for it. For me, even though I took a few just for the sex, I cherished the vivacity of their emotions even though I was equally certain I would never truly understand the literacies they encompassed. I don't know, perhaps your correct to wonder if there is any credence to their credibilities, are their arguments purely noumenal, insubstantial? Personally I think your denying the prospectus of their joys. Then again perhaps I don't relate this write at all and am way off the beaten track.

    Bruce
    | Posted on 2012-10-24 00:00:00 | by monad | [ Reply to This ]


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