Please excuse the frequency
Of my axiomatic solecisms
As my truculent tongue
Refuses my eyes any ogling
Without turning taciturn
And if I should seem diffident
In stark contrast to
My usually garrulous self
It comes from the confusion
Of the vast difference
Between coquettish and me
Attraction is not my strong-suit
I find satiety among words
Yet even they have a surfeit
Of understanding
When it comes to this
Eclectic feeling
I apologize for my maudlin tone
But frankly
You bewitch me
She is nominally
The paragon of perfection
In their words
Hot
Yet I wonder if it would
Besmirch her reputation
If they knew just how
Assiduous she is
With that mascara
And how
Her diadem of plastic beauty
Will no longer
Prove inviolable
When their sententious
Manners break the mask
And misery’s apotheosis
Proves to be tears
Please, sit
Juxtapose your thoughts with mine
Here on this hallowed ground
Where some bestial thing
Was the zenith of society
Once
But now the remorse has
Faded into the corrugated
Evils of time
No horror is enduring
Memory is for the novice
Never tactile
And feelings are a placebo
For the weak of mind
I’ve been having fun with vocabulary words forever. It started with reading aloud. We always kept a list of words that made my brother and I crinkle our brows. Every week or so I would try to compile all of the words we had collected into a few sentences that told a story. This year I started to write poems with them. These words are just the top ten on a list of SAT vocabulary.
Due to the masses of books I have read, vocabulary isn’t a huge concern, but whenever we read together, my mom writes down vocabulary words that we find. A long time ago, I began using these words to write small passages or poems. Yesterday I did this with a list that had come from The Elegance of the Hedgehog. Here it is with the vocabulary words in bold:
The paradigm of idelibility
Was the schism in the group
For the proletarians begged for right
But the maitre wouldn’t follow through
He patently laid his reasons out
With lubricious words and archaic thought
And all found his message very clear
Consider syncretism, he would not
So they changed their thoughts and feelings
Importuned him for something else
Just a little eclectisism
Just try to share some wealth
But he exculpated his actions
Led them all astray
With an artifice of language
The listened to him acrimoniously say
Your aping me with your play at law
That is demonstrable to the world
You’re all just pitiful autodidacts
Who cannot understand a teachers words
Sometimes
When the sliding light
Of stars slips into the sky
And the rustle of adults
Fades
Like the birdsong
I lie
Enfolded in a nest of blankets
Holding on to the last seconds
When I am
Eighty-six thousand four-hundred and fifty-two
Minutes older than fourteen
Before the clock ticks off
Fifty-three
Stuck somewhere in between
The adult
The teen
Watching as I transition
From was
To will be
simplyemmasthoughts 