Making the Most Sense

I

You’ve been dying to write this poem all week.

When the mood is right and the flame within suits you?

Yeah, then you’ll write a poem.  

Drifiting amidst the waste of insecurity and crashing on the waves of confidence 

My tired vessel beats against the drum of the wind, sounding like a torn snare in the crisp high seas.

Oh, to use adjectives over and over again like:

high wide brown loving burning measurable strong insurmountable and powerful

When your sentences lack subject I think we might be getting to the point

As if my brain just released

Like a noun

No only the verb

No noun???

Just a release

Those loose vessels that set adrift on some memory bliss (Footnoote)

They steal from the silly memories of times gone by

When silliness was all that mattered

Yes, silliness once mattered (check the footnote)

And yet when the punctuation fails and the communication is what is actually punctuating 

We wonder where some such silliness might evaporate

It’s like, what should one do?

The language is discombobulated

Lost to the dictionary

… as if dictionary was still a word.  Still words

I prefer emoticons, Thanks :D

I prefer the moist, demonstrative, frustrated, angry, torn, heartbroken, lost, smiling, happy, devastated, ruined, sunny, cloudy, flattened, bodily surface.  That space of the object which is open to any interpretation.  That wonderful point before the sentence is uttered when so much is possible.

In that finite space after the words have been said one is forced to action - more damn verbs.

II

To confront those harmful spaces between the adjectives is a gut-wrenching places.  Where the definintions of identity have failed to match objective identifications from a subjective class.  Those people on the bus with you?  Yes, life is analogous to the all those people on the bus with you.

So many adjectives for the public transit aficionados… but of course, their identity is not important.  What does the adverb do when they engage.  Existence is a terrifying place and when we realize we’re all the same bus. 

The twisted conspiracies that dominate the emptiness of the body.  Lemme try:  You’re a twisted, demented fuck…. no no no.  It’s in the action friend.  To add verbs: fuck, jump, wrest, twist, spin, force, insinuate, demand, enact, thrust, impose, dominate.  

Oh , no.  To only add verbs is not to understand the nature.  

“This dialogue blows.” 

III

In the nevermore, the where ever more? The whom said some more?  Like from yonder shore?  Let’s play some more.

So the raven said something non descript upon the ever more. 

As if that was something to reconcile from before.  Haha. Rhymes… nevermore.

Twisted in the existence of an inistance that your instance that matters

as he rhymes and meters beat upon yonder shore

when we’re slipping away and away and away and away 

and the riptide that crushes us is so selfish and wrong

so that it will wash you 

and clean you up so well

Forced words when the processor makes unwanted edits :(

those awkward pauses in dialogue when you would have said some thing :|

but apparently you said it differenty :P

don’t you wish you’d gotten it right the first time?   Man, that thought haunts everything I’ve ever said

Which I’ve still yet to accomplish

All these goals devolve in to strange diatribes about that which once was

like I used to be just that fucking cool

… darn