TotallyHappy91 - Hello Poetry

Life imitates God's plan God imitates a wise man I imitate sagacity All that is breathing imitates me If numbered is what makes our days And art is our escape How could it want to imitate The people it creates?

0

Sep 24, 2021

Sep 24, 2021 at 11:07 AM UTC

TotallyHappy91

If Art Imitates Life

Life imitates God's plan God imitates a wise man I imitate sagacity All that is breathing imitates me If numbered is what makes our days And art is our escape How could it want to imitate The people it creates?

8

Cooking is The mastery of intuition It is knowing, smelling, tasting perfection Before the simmering soup completes its wearisome journey It’s love

0

Sep 22, 2021

Sep 22, 2021 at 6:40 PM UTC

TotallyHappy91

Cooking

Cooking is The mastery of intuition It is knowing, smelling, tasting perfection Before the simmering soup completes its wearisome journey It’s love

5

Shell-shocked, broken *** Cannot fix with gold Silver linings turn to ash Burned by lightning's scold Murdered martyr lily Crimson drops on blotter Scared to death by amaryllis Shriveled in the water Shorting copper circuits Shocked by every thought Hardware fears destroy my gears My precious metal rots

0

Aug 26, 2021

Aug 26, 2021 at 7:49 PM UTC

TotallyHappy91

Unnatural Tendencies

Shell-shocked, broken *** Cannot fix with gold Silver linings turn to ash Burned by lightning's scold Murdered martyr lily Crimson drops on blotter Scared to death by amaryllis Shriveled in the water Shorting copper circuits Shocked by every thought Hardware fears destroy my gears My precious metal rots

12

No picket fences. No hunting license. He has no culture To his name. No children nor partner to carry; he’ll love The forest floor just the same. Chickadees chattered as he muttered his marriage Vows to the land between his toes. Rich in all but money, He aims to accomplish what his forefathers could not: Forgive Himself for human’s toll on nature. Their roads of death. For hickory trees and zipping flies only understand death As biological drivers of fear. He has seen the culture. Slash and burn, Gnash and chop, mine and take, forgive And forget the consequences. They manufacture love On a rainy day to deceive people into funding destruction with the money From the nature they claim to protect. A push-and-pull marriage. He set aside his business coat as he set foot into the forest, divorcing the marriage Of care and corporation. His only hope is that the rabbit cannot smell death Still leaking from his pores like toxic radiation nor the stench of money Recklessly thrown to culling the land mere miles away. More culture Here than in thousands of skylines. More compassion among animals than any “love” A vest-and-tie, bright-eyed smile grants in marketing. Corporate does not forgive. He climbs atop the highest canopy and calms his quaking arms. If no one can forgive His erratic exercise routine, the breeze can. All is still. The marriage Has begun to provide. The priest above will join them in the morning; he’ll prove his love. Tomorrow, the men with machines and sticks of death Will come barreling through the sanctuary, claiming from destruction comes culture And resources, but behind their faces of concern is always money, money, money. From the first rabbit he slaughtered to the devastating loss of money He incurred for not staying silent, the corruption he witnessed set a fire he would not forgive His heart for feeding. The disillusionment he kept spread faster than a bacterial culture Under perfect conditions. The merriment in progress was null, the marriage Bands thrown into polluted rivers. He would slow the unnatural cycle of death, One by one rooted tree. Though he does not believe it is enough, it is love. His back aches. His eyes open with a start. His air tastes acrid. His love Has died and fear wrests his heart. Trees around him scream for aid. All the money In the world could not replace the thousands of years of peace they spoil with death. He yells from his tower. A straggler rabbit screws its head to see him. Maybe it saw to forgive Him after all this time. Rivers from his eyes and gold buried deep inside, the marriage Between man and Mother Nature could exist. Human’s ruination isn’t nature. It is culture. They ask him for the love of God, what is he doing up there. He smiles. I can forgive The contractor for his need of money, but not those whose wants require a marriage Between negligence and my planet’s death. He pleads. They stare. As is the culture.

0

Feb 19, 2021

Feb 19, 2021 at 9:00 PM UTC

TotallyHappy91

Man's Best Friend Used to Be a Wolf (Sestina)

No picket fences. No hunting license. He has no culture To his name. No children nor partner to carry; he’ll love The forest floor just the same. Chickadees chattered as he muttered his marriage Vows to the land between his toes. Rich in all but money, He aims to accomplish what his forefathers could not: Forgive Himself for human’s toll on nature. Their roads of death. For hickory trees and zipping flies only understand death As biological drivers of fear. He has seen the culture. Slash and burn, Gnash and chop, mine and take, forgive And forget the consequences. They manufacture love On a rainy day to deceive people into funding destruction with the money From the nature they claim to protect. A push-and-pull marriage. He set aside his business coat as he set foot into the forest, divorcing the marriage Of care and corporation. His only hope is that the rabbit cannot smell death Still leaking from his pores like toxic radiation nor the stench of money Recklessly thrown to culling the land mere miles away. More culture Here than in thousands of skylines. More compassion among animals than any “love” A vest-and-tie, bright-eyed smile grants in marketing. Corporate does not forgive. He climbs atop the highest canopy and calms his quaking arms. If no one can forgive His erratic exercise routine, the breeze can. All is still. The marriage Has begun to provide. The priest above will join them in the morning; he’ll prove his love. Tomorrow, the men with machines and sticks of death Will come barreling through the sanctuary, claiming from destruction comes culture And resources, but behind their faces of concern is always money, money, money. From the first rabbit he slaughtered to the devastating loss of money He incurred for not staying silent, the corruption he witnessed set a fire he would not forgive His heart for feeding. The disillusionment he kept spread faster than a bacterial culture Under perfect conditions. The merriment in progress was null, the marriage Bands thrown into polluted rivers. He would slow the unnatural cycle of death, One by one rooted tree. Though he does not believe it is enough, it is love. His back aches. His eyes open with a start. His air tastes acrid. His love Has died and fear wrests his heart. Trees around him scream for aid. All the money In the world could not replace the thousands of years of peace they spoil with death. He yells from his tower. A straggler rabbit screws its head to see him. Maybe it saw to forgive Him after all this time. Rivers from his eyes and gold buried deep inside, the marriage Between man and Mother Nature could exist. Human’s ruination isn’t nature. It is culture. They ask him for the love of God, what is he doing up there. He smiles. I can forgive The contractor for his need of money, but not those whose wants require a marriage Between negligence and my planet’s death. He pleads. They stare. As is the culture.

39

You tasted like butterscotch Pure and sweet against my lips Your touch felt like cotton candy Soft and spindly on my hips Of that syrupy scotch Buzzing bees would make a balm For nights when I taste less sugar Then comes saccharine calm You look like the early sun Dewdrops set much too soon Your eyes betray the midnight glow In favor of later noon When I wake from the dream With morning numbness too Feeling nothing but your hand I see naught but you

0

Jun 17, 2019

Jun 17, 2019 at 10:51 AM UTC

TotallyHappy91

Butterscotch

You tasted like butterscotch Pure and sweet against my lips Your touch felt like cotton candy Soft and spindly on my hips Of that syrupy scotch Buzzing bees would make a balm For nights when I taste less sugar Then comes saccharine calm You look like the early sun Dewdrops set much too soon Your eyes betray the midnight glow In favor of later noon When I wake from the dream With morning numbness too Feeling nothing but your hand I see naught but you

16

It's been one of those days When the leaves fall from trees The birds sing out of key Flowers shoot up crooked And I lay in my bed Slightly discontented Chipping away at every imperfect cell Slightly angry No sound's close enough to tell Slightly furious Until the fireplace resembles my Hell On these days, the clock arrives seconds too early Everyone's schedule tightens until dark The air is moist enough to burrow under my skin Words just painful enough to leave a mark Wednesday feels like a Thursday And we're all standing still A little too long With no apparent will You feel the need to sit and right But that takes far too long Instead of enduring minutes of awful You chose a lifetime of wrong Wrong as betting on the second-best horse Wrong as the eggshell-shaded wedding dress Wrong as crying at your pet firefly's funeral Wrong as the next house's over address Perhaps if you lie in the sand Let the nuisances wash over you The rhythms will start to make sense Greens forming shades of blue Oh, take care not to drown We only hold so much air If you get lost on your way down You're only halfway there

0

Apr 28, 2019

Apr 28, 2019 at 6:41 PM UTC

TotallyHappy91

Imperfect World

It's been one of those days When the leaves fall from trees The birds sing out of key Flowers shoot up crooked And I lay in my bed Slightly discontented Chipping away at every imperfect cell Slightly angry No sound's close enough to tell Slightly furious Until the fireplace resembles my Hell On these days, the clock arrives seconds too early Everyone's schedule tightens until dark The air is moist enough to burrow under my skin Words just painful enough to leave a mark Wednesday feels like a Thursday And we're all standing still A little too long With no apparent will You feel the need to sit and right But that takes far too long Instead of enduring minutes of awful You chose a lifetime of wrong Wrong as betting on the second-best horse Wrong as the eggshell-shaded wedding dress Wrong as crying at your pet firefly's funeral Wrong as the next house's over address Perhaps if you lie in the sand Let the nuisances wash over you The rhythms will start to make sense Greens forming shades of blue Oh, take care not to drown We only hold so much air If you get lost on your way down You're only halfway there

35

Let me start from the beginning It is an awful feeling to have to plug your ears and drown out the ocean of noises choking you to have a good meal. When I say that I can't stand it when I hear you eat What I really mean is that when you drink I imagine slugs slopping their way down your gullet And the sigh of refreshment means the acid has successfully shriveled them to death The sound of carrots being pulzerized is akin to bones Every time it is a cacaphony of dinner knives screeching against ribs It may sound silly but when the saliva transfers with the gum you insist on smacking Every ounce of fluid in my body wishes it could jump through my skin to the floor I can't ask you to quit swallowing food Though every drop that doesn't make it down Is a reminder that humans are animals Consuming flesh and constructed chemicals No, I know you won't take me seriously But spoons and knives are toys of the glutton And poison to the one that shed tears When they hear the dinner bell ring

0

Mar 28, 2019

Mar 28, 2019 at 7:06 PM UTC

TotallyHappy91

Misophonia

Let me start from the beginning It is an awful feeling to have to plug your ears and drown out the ocean of noises choking you to have a good meal. When I say that I can't stand it when I hear you eat What I really mean is that when you drink I imagine slugs slopping their way down your gullet And the sigh of refreshment means the acid has successfully shriveled them to death The sound of carrots being pulzerized is akin to bones Every time it is a cacaphony of dinner knives screeching against ribs It may sound silly but when the saliva transfers with the gum you insist on smacking Every ounce of fluid in my body wishes it could jump through my skin to the floor I can't ask you to quit swallowing food Though every drop that doesn't make it down Is a reminder that humans are animals Consuming flesh and constructed chemicals No, I know you won't take me seriously But spoons and knives are toys of the glutton And poison to the one that shed tears When they hear the dinner bell ring

18

Black tar Gone far Exercise until I'm skin and bones Nothing left but dial tones Coarsing through my blood Levee holding back the flood Pulling hair Can't compare To the rush of sugar in my veins Finally I take hold of reins My eyes begin to dilate Carbohydrates start to migrate Heart racing Quiet pacing I can do anything and more As long I have shut the door I think as light brightens the mirror See the jittering girl drawing nearer Euphoria crumbles like aged cheese Sick to my stomach and weak at the knees Sugar high to sugar drops Sugar left 'til sugar stops

0

Mar 27, 2019

Mar 27, 2019 at 9:28 AM UTC

TotallyHappy91

Cardio at 2 AM

Black tar Gone far Exercise until I'm skin and bones Nothing left but dial tones Coarsing through my blood Levee holding back the flood Pulling hair Can't compare To the rush of sugar in my veins Finally I take hold of reins My eyes begin to dilate Carbohydrates start to migrate Heart racing Quiet pacing I can do anything and more As long I have shut the door I think as light brightens the mirror See the jittering girl drawing nearer Euphoria crumbles like aged cheese Sick to my stomach and weak at the knees Sugar high to sugar drops Sugar left 'til sugar stops

22

Be the Shizuka to my Shefali Perhaps a little of your scent Will rub off on me I'll take the perfume from high life If others can sense the grime From stacking strife When we lie together, hear my heart For other's heads will spin When they can't tell scents apart

0

Mar 24, 2019

Mar 24, 2019 at 1:32 PM UTC

TotallyHappy91

The Tiger's Daughter

Be the Shizuka to my Shefali Perhaps a little of your scent Will rub off on me I'll take the perfume from high life If others can sense the grime From stacking strife When we lie together, hear my heart For other's heads will spin When they can't tell scents apart

9

They say 3 AM is quiet Not a soul stirs Then it is peaceful I shove my music in Drown the silence out Drown out the demons Raking the bedroom wall Banging their fists on my door They cry for attention and hope They weep for their selfish needs They may have grubby fingers And when silence is abound Darkness like to abuse it To screech into my ear I groan under sheets Turn the volume up Then it is peaceful Not a soul stirs 3 AM is quiet So they say I say No.

0

Mar 23, 2019

Mar 23, 2019 at 4:00 AM UTC

TotallyHappy91

3 AM

They say 3 AM is quiet Not a soul stirs Then it is peaceful I shove my music in Drown the silence out Drown out the demons Raking the bedroom wall Banging their fists on my door They cry for attention and hope They weep for their selfish needs They may have grubby fingers And when silence is abound Darkness like to abuse it To screech into my ear I groan under sheets Turn the volume up Then it is peaceful Not a soul stirs 3 AM is quiet So they say I say No.

23