Synthesise poems on Hello Poetry

Gregory Dun Aer Mar 2017

Lisp

I have a lisp
It is lovers lips caught in the spasm of a kiss
I have a lisp
that restricts what I'm capable of saying
praying that I don't pass it onto my kids
but there's restrictions on scripture as well.
I have a lisp
It is a gentle twist in words I can't complete
I'll meet many who notices the obviousness of it.
I can't synthesise similar sounds subtly
to induce a feeling of happiness or sadness,
I've been driven half to madness by the flaw.
This is why my voice is within my writing,
it is the lightning without the thunder,
unheard to ears but the same power exists.
I can't give a speech openly, or sing to soothe my soul,
all because I have a lisp.

Toothache Jan 2020

Exurbia, Rock Ballads and Soda Cans

Passing around a fatal flaw like a joint in a hot box,
Refreshing baths of Coca~Cola and regretful indulgence
We are wasting away in a paradise of my creation

Poems tinted grey through abstinent romanticism,
and an inexplicable undertone inherent to my prose.
As everything starts to return to a drumming constant.
It all sounds the same.

We've been sunbathing in porcelain skies and empty daydreams.
Drab and dreary and acid washed.
Interrupted like a beach by the sea,
By the little pieces of drug soaked warmth that act as comforting distractions.
A smile or a shoulder or a sunny day to drink from.
Summer and solitude, the likeness of warm bodies in a cold pool.
So.
Compose me an opera of Soda Cans and of choral song. Synthesise two bass lines and slow drip coffee and pollen and folk.
Make it for me so I can watch you as you work.
Let me listen and bask in its ludacris vanity, and clean shallow waters.
How I would relish the time spent muddying the current. Destroying the tide I desired out of boredom.
And black hot frustration.

Flowers painted in acid and acrid accounts of repetative revalations in the context of rude rosy cheeked romance.
Blonde haired ignorance and one dimensional delusions.
Blue eyed terrorists armed with air and arrogance.

Give me seatwarmers and handholding
Or corvettes and convertables.
Give me arrowheads and heart attacks
Humble my bones with a cardiac

!F.R.I.E.N.D.S.!
SITCOMS
ADJASENT PLOTLINES
mumble rap
AND ***** TALK HOTLINES
four letter words with little context or meaning and selfless expression that's often demeaning

Its September in January and it rains for a day
And despite all our efforts
The days waste away

#manic #mania #sun #friends #love #summer #sugar #happy #joy #alienation

mannley collins Oct 2014

Eenie meenie minie mo

catch a person,
of African/Asian/European/Amerikan/Antipodean extraction,
by the prejudices.
When she/he files a fatuous complaint
at the Court of Human Responsibilities
let him/her board a Plane back to where she/he came from
clutching a Louis Vuiton goody bag full of
strings of meaningless associated but fine sounding
politicians speeches,
and as much moolah as he can carry
and several contracts to appear on reality TV.
Food for the journey will be a Cup of bitter gall
and a rapidly melting Vanilla Ice-Cream
containing at least 20 chemicals that will destroy his/her
ability to synthesise Testosterone.
Inflight entertainment will consist of the oft repeated lies of
all major "religions"spoken in oh so sincere voices,
by old paedophiles wearing bedsheets,
consumed with stupidity
and hatreds that are thousands of years old
******* stewardesses and bottomless stewards
will hand out suicide tablets
with cheery smiles and hearty cries of "Bon Voyage!!

Ignatius Hosiana Mar 2016

TRY ME

I will travel this world
just show me an airline
that allows payment in poetry
show me where words buy visas

I can be a hero
who restores peace at a battlefield
where the universe is
fighting the war of words

I can soar high in space
just show me where lines
are stitched into wings
show me how to synthesise words into feathers

I can leave my mark on Earth
just have to turn it into
a planet whose species
actually knows a poet's worth

I can move the world
just give me a springboard
where I can stand and spin
the rest of the globe the other way

I can make you proud
just learn to hear my silence loud
even if you don't practically
appreciate that I'm endowed

I can be a president
just show me a nation
whose politics ain't marred
with filth, controversies and lies

I can be whatever you want
just give me whatever I need
give me a people without greed
and I'll find you a Moses or Joshua
,that I'm sure

I can be anything
the ocean, the bridge, the home under siege
the road, the beast of burden that lifts the load
the pathfinder at the Red sea,
if I'm given the rod

#war #peace #hope #inspiration #politics #motivation #determination

Al-Farouk Jan 2017

Here comes my confession

Here comes my confession
A confession that is beyond your realisation
A confession that is not a misconception
Do expect a confession this momentarily
I say.

Here comes my confession
Please brighten up your gadget
Relax and move with this
Serious confession
Are you ready?
Are you?

Here comes my confession
Come closer
Eyes wide open
Ready to synthesise this confession
I bow for your time
Its a plea.

Here comes my confession
This a plea do not flee
Oh yes I am now ready
To give this waited confession
Yes waited by you....
Yes! you!

Here comes my confession
Shying temperatures rising
Oh My! I sense embers of fear in inner me.
Wait...
May this fear instinct be destroyed
Amen!

Here comes my confession
When I go to my room
Something strange I do
I fear to tell
This thing deeply disturb my level of paranoia
Do you want to know the thing?
Do you?

Here is my confession
Here it comes. ..
When I go to my room
The strange thing
I do
I commit
Opening my door with a key.
Oh this is strange
And this is my confession.

comic

Ignatius Hosiana Jan 2016

A NEVER ENDING SONG

She says I don't know how the world works
that it isn't all about believing little sparks
she says I don't know what it means to hurt
how difficult it is when love ends,harder than to start
getting detached, uprooting all the passion
is work that could necessitate a mason or ******* a person
she tells me the worst part of it is one wants
the world to understand but all one
may receive are boos and chants
she says loneliness is a road she's trodden
and company an untrustworthy horse she's ridden
that she prefers to be alone than to risk her shards
she knows better to savour silence than trusting words
she says had I arrived a little bit earlier in her life
she could have considered ,had I come before her strife
she says she crumbled enough times before
so doubting is something she can't be sorry for
people are like the tides, she says they call for doubt
for moments come, tides wash in and tides wash out
she says she's tired of being rolled about
she's ensuring she makes decisions that count
no more taking chances or making choices in haste
she says she no longer has a tear to waste
she is in my arms speaking right above my beat
and I am tranquillised as I listen to her bit by bit
wondering if I can have her dark life lit
Despair is deep, could I pull her out that pit
can I change the cacophony in her mind into a euphony
can I synthesise the strings in her heart to make a symphony?
she says every music in her life quickly fades away
that its harmony only lasts hours if a day
they all appear with promise to last a century
but as soon as their feet step her temple, her sanctuary
the build dies from the beat instrument at a time
trombone, trumpet infesting its rhythm and rhyme
she says the world has been a repleted void
that has cost her so much she couldn't avoid
so I choose to listen to her silence not her clamour
and guess what she's saying all along,
once more someone has broken past her armour
and she wants to give it one last shot
What she isn't saying is she's tired of safe,the sure thing boat
she wants to set sail out once again in the stormy sea
maybe going past the storms is the adventure,the view to see
maybe this could be the arrow that hits the mark
her concern is she wants to try out her luck
because she's holding me tight and it feels right
may be this is the dawn that lasts on and on
what she isn't saying is she wants to be my own
cause if she doesn't try she may never find
I grab her firmer on reading her mind
because only I knows how long I've waited
for someone to dance with the never ending song
that's what true love is,I see it in her eyes
that she and I have found a beat that never dies

#love #heartbreak #trust #doubt #hurt #despair #truelove #lonesome

Arlene Corwin Sep 2018

The Highest Prize

The Highest Prize

I am not intelligent;
IQ middling, slow to think
(except when I’ve had caffeine’s drink))
I know people whose vocabulary,
Skills in math and history
Outdo, surpass and outshine mine
By kilometres miles,
Eclipsing talents, each outrivaling
My wiliest of guiles.

And yet, and yet
I lie or sit
And never quit
Creating verse.
My biggest blessing, little-lest curse
To (all the time) be struck by phrase
That never hazes,
Never dazes or confuses.
Simply takes my life and uses it.
Perhaps fusing the parts, (I hope)
Unjoined or compromised or *****.

Of course, being the seated type
That learned to type when just a tike,
I snap things up and write them down,
Typing up and clipping to with paper clip
Each page of quip and deepest scrip
While taking ownership of ideas wise
And ideas definitely dippy.*

I admit, without self praise,
That I’ve been blessed with artist-joy.
(A gift I didn’t have to buy
It being given me for free).
The gift to knock together, forge concoct,
Then synthesise chords, words, whatnot…
The highest prize I could’ve got.

Perhaps intelligence is overrated.
One can feel complete and sated
By a zillion other qualities:
Not sensory but definitely
Meeting needs:
Ones that feed the world as well.
All other prizes, as you know,
Gone to the hell of false impression’s phantom spell:
Of no importance whatsoever.

The Highest Prize 9.30.2018 I Is Always You Is We; A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Arlene Nover Corwin

(written certificate)
*(scatterbrained, silly or eccentric).

fox Aug 2024

reality is an episode of good tv and we're all silly ******* cats

i still look for you in endless skies and infinite depths, in artificially beating hearts and macro-micro scale, past the schwarzschild radius, inside the electron orbital. the mere thought of you dwarfs everything that could be and can be conceptualised or philosophised or made, even as our descendants reach for the stars and become gods and synthesise emotions and transcend physical form, when history is a nightmare the human consciousness is trying to wake up from, there will be others too who love and lose like i did.

it is only fundamentally human to ***, suffer, lust, argue, and grieve.
but most importantly love.

#love

— The End —