amariah-clift - Hello Poetry

My father My dad My rock The foundation of our family You are in so much pain I can feel your broken spirit I see the yearning for peace in your soul when I look you in the eyes Which is not as often as i'd like anymore The sickness gave you an excuse and a good shake and now you don't realize the bonds you might break I am angry at every cell Those mother ******* cells. I am so angry And my heart hurts all hours of the day or night I can't stop it and I don't know what to do I cry alone and smile at the people who melt on by But hey, At least i have a dog and my feet have ten toes, my clothes have no holes and my underwear is clean. At least most of the time And my love is grand At night I have trouble sleeping still. My chest above my breast gets harder and deeper every day. I am drowning in it. It's full of rubble and dust, fire and gasoline I am choking on the heat of the smoke and the sut is traveling down and settling in my lungs painting a new picture in my body My father couldn't teach me enough to understand until I experienced it, that one thing everyone knows to hate.. cancer The deafening rise of smoke consumes every thought in my mind When I was 13, my father sat me down and told me that getting drunk was like kissing the devil on the lips and my naive little head didn't understand that it was meant more for him than for me Growing up I never saw him drink But ultimately he found that the drink paired nicely with his diagnosis and that he was always thirsty This man who calls himself my dad, is someone I've never known. I choke on the words to tell him I miss him, but the smoke is too thick and I can't see him anymore He is not my dad when he drinks He was my coach My biggest fan My most favorite comedian My best friend He doesn't see the bonds he's broken and cancer gave him a good shake But now he's blinded with a bottle and he's bound to the bar He's gone, I cannot find him. I wish I could breath underwater to put out this fire I am choking and my chest is heavy My lungs are green and molded over now and the carpet ***** up my feelings of regret and apathy It grows up my throat to my tongue and speaks for me Another drink please

0

Jan 31, 2019

Jan 31, 2019 at 1:06 AM UTC

amariah-clift

You look familiar

My father My dad My rock The foundation of our family You are in so much pain I can feel your broken spirit I see the yearning for peace in your soul when I look you in the eyes Which is not as often as i'd like anymore The sickness gave you an excuse and a good shake and now you don't realize the bonds you might break I am angry at every cell Those mother ******* cells. I am so angry And my heart hurts all hours of the day or night I can't stop it and I don't know what to do I cry alone and smile at the people who melt on by But hey, At least i have a dog and my feet have ten toes, my clothes have no holes and my underwear is clean. At least most of the time And my love is grand At night I have trouble sleeping still. My chest above my breast gets harder and deeper every day. I am drowning in it. It's full of rubble and dust, fire and gasoline I am choking on the heat of the smoke and the sut is traveling down and settling in my lungs painting a new picture in my body My father couldn't teach me enough to understand until I experienced it, that one thing everyone knows to hate.. cancer The deafening rise of smoke consumes every thought in my mind When I was 13, my father sat me down and told me that getting drunk was like kissing the devil on the lips and my naive little head didn't understand that it was meant more for him than for me Growing up I never saw him drink But ultimately he found that the drink paired nicely with his diagnosis and that he was always thirsty This man who calls himself my dad, is someone I've never known. I choke on the words to tell him I miss him, but the smoke is too thick and I can't see him anymore He is not my dad when he drinks He was my coach My biggest fan My most favorite comedian My best friend He doesn't see the bonds he's broken and cancer gave him a good shake But now he's blinded with a bottle and he's bound to the bar He's gone, I cannot find him. I wish I could breath underwater to put out this fire I am choking and my chest is heavy My lungs are green and molded over now and the carpet ***** up my feelings of regret and apathy It grows up my throat to my tongue and speaks for me Another drink please

44

I am young.. I am young and I am Embarrassed and I am Hopeless and I am Discouraged. We are a torn and bruised country. Dogs and wolves with frothing mouths represent and repress the bays of mass flocks. I am embarrassed to be so privileged, because when drowned children wash up on our shores, we do not take to the streets in furious rage. I cannot be the only one who feels this way. It is sticky and feverish.. My palms are chronically clammy. I cannot be the only on here who sees this and feels the yearning for justified outrage and conscious righteousness. Do not misinterpret me. I do not want revenge. I am young. And I am sad and I am angry. And I am ashamed. I am ashamed for the terrible things in this world. I am ashamed that I have not done more to make it right. I am ashamed that I am perpetuating this cycle of apathy. I am nauseated.. when an animal gets shot at the zoo, people will remember his name and how he died. I am angry that we do not know the names of men and women who died for our country with no thanks.. No parade. Soldiers who; bloodied bruised and broken, carried their sister's and brothers through the pit of hell and over the Devil’s rosy cheeks. But now, I am not as young. And still I am seeing more and more that my rage turns to sorrow and my sorrow into hopelessness and hopelessness into indifference. It is a writhing desperate wale. It is the sound of all of the mothers who watched their children grow up only in their imaginations, and the fathers whose daughters and sons were ripped from their calloused fingers. It is a writhing desperate wale. And still, I do not know what to do. Instead, I am weeping inside and choking on selfie sticks and Sephora perfume.

0

Oct 30, 2017

Oct 30, 2017 at 5:25 PM UTC

amariah-clift

The world today

I am young.. I am young and I am Embarrassed and I am Hopeless and I am Discouraged. We are a torn and bruised country. Dogs and wolves with frothing mouths represent and repress the bays of mass flocks. I am embarrassed to be so privileged, because when drowned children wash up on our shores, we do not take to the streets in furious rage. I cannot be the only one who feels this way. It is sticky and feverish.. My palms are chronically clammy. I cannot be the only on here who sees this and feels the yearning for justified outrage and conscious righteousness. Do not misinterpret me. I do not want revenge. I am young. And I am sad and I am angry. And I am ashamed. I am ashamed for the terrible things in this world. I am ashamed that I have not done more to make it right. I am ashamed that I am perpetuating this cycle of apathy. I am nauseated.. when an animal gets shot at the zoo, people will remember his name and how he died. I am angry that we do not know the names of men and women who died for our country with no thanks.. No parade. Soldiers who; bloodied bruised and broken, carried their sister's and brothers through the pit of hell and over the Devil’s rosy cheeks. But now, I am not as young. And still I am seeing more and more that my rage turns to sorrow and my sorrow into hopelessness and hopelessness into indifference. It is a writhing desperate wale. It is the sound of all of the mothers who watched their children grow up only in their imaginations, and the fathers whose daughters and sons were ripped from their calloused fingers. It is a writhing desperate wale. And still, I do not know what to do. Instead, I am weeping inside and choking on selfie sticks and Sephora perfume.

13

How do I feel? How do I feel? How do I feel? I feel like someone who thinks too much and cares too much. I feel terrible for feeling terrible. I want to feel good. I feel selfish for standing up for me. I feel narcissistic writing this because it’s about me. I feel scared because I don’t know what tomorrow holds. But I do. Tomorrow will be like yesterday and today: Full of worry, apathy and a headache.

0

Oct 30, 2017

Oct 30, 2017 at 5:24 PM UTC

amariah-clift

Thoughts at Work

How do I feel? How do I feel? How do I feel? I feel like someone who thinks too much and cares too much. I feel terrible for feeling terrible. I want to feel good. I feel selfish for standing up for me. I feel narcissistic writing this because it’s about me. I feel scared because I don’t know what tomorrow holds. But I do. Tomorrow will be like yesterday and today: Full of worry, apathy and a headache.

6

Soft skin, with even tone freckled cheeks the sun beams toasted golden brown lungs with power to inhale clouds a stomach which converts energy My body, fertile and alive, boisterous and pumping all arms and legs and ******* and fingers. time takes my freckles and returns to me dark moles and bags, loose skin and sagging chest My breath is strained. my stomach and tongue cannot convert, distill and reclaim taste ... no... that, my dear, is heartburn.. My body aches. my heart is longing time takes my memory it hides my recollections away in an old film reel. Where am i? legs give out, brace for impact brittle bones time takes my aging body and lies down in a field of ageless dreams

0

Jun 30, 2016

Jun 30, 2016 at 7:37 PM UTC

amariah-clift

watching my body age

Soft skin, with even tone freckled cheeks the sun beams toasted golden brown lungs with power to inhale clouds a stomach which converts energy My body, fertile and alive, boisterous and pumping all arms and legs and ******* and fingers. time takes my freckles and returns to me dark moles and bags, loose skin and sagging chest My breath is strained. my stomach and tongue cannot convert, distill and reclaim taste ... no... that, my dear, is heartburn.. My body aches. my heart is longing time takes my memory it hides my recollections away in an old film reel. Where am i? legs give out, brace for impact brittle bones time takes my aging body and lies down in a field of ageless dreams

17

Aluminum foil teeth Enamel taste bud bayonets Molars initiate waging war On the soft pink left cheek Gnawing away radiated flesh Sawing off fat Eating through layers of rotten blood These Metal dentures cut gums Tonguing out iron spit

0

Oct 24, 2015

Oct 24, 2015 at 2:36 PM UTC

amariah-clift

going to the dentist

Aluminum foil teeth Enamel taste bud bayonets Molars initiate waging war On the soft pink left cheek Gnawing away radiated flesh Sawing off fat Eating through layers of rotten blood These Metal dentures cut gums Tonguing out iron spit

10

Café tantalizing aroma evicts every other scent from my nasal cavity remedy for self-diagnosed cranial narcolepsy eyelid suspenders bittersweet paramour empty mug, stirs my core caramel and dark chocolate micro-foam, group heads and caffeine velvet layered cappuccino espresso parts my thoughts come sip with me

0

Aug 27, 2015

Aug 27, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC

amariah-clift

Barista in

Café tantalizing aroma evicts every other scent from my nasal cavity remedy for self-diagnosed cranial narcolepsy eyelid suspenders bittersweet paramour empty mug, stirs my core caramel and dark chocolate micro-foam, group heads and caffeine velvet layered cappuccino espresso parts my thoughts come sip with me

13

Fishmonger's yelling-- their tone; open, penetrating casting shadows with wet rubber soles Puddles of sleet. The first it snowed, dominoes trample, the ground shakes gravity forces bowing of concrete ice sheets that rest above raging flows fish knew what had happened surrounded by scales weighing the blame An addict who is crying, lashing, calling out for an intervention finally sets a date From here his voice still echoes in my cranial apartments spaces to rent, pets allowed under 65lbs... $300 deposit.... the fishmongers yelling still singing their gilled vibrato chorus I'll learn to live by the stormy ocean and love myself, my voices and my choices

0

Aug 18, 2015

Aug 18, 2015 at 4:22 PM UTC

amariah-clift

Fishmonger's Yelling

Fishmonger's yelling-- their tone; open, penetrating casting shadows with wet rubber soles Puddles of sleet. The first it snowed, dominoes trample, the ground shakes gravity forces bowing of concrete ice sheets that rest above raging flows fish knew what had happened surrounded by scales weighing the blame An addict who is crying, lashing, calling out for an intervention finally sets a date From here his voice still echoes in my cranial apartments spaces to rent, pets allowed under 65lbs... $300 deposit.... the fishmongers yelling still singing their gilled vibrato chorus I'll learn to live by the stormy ocean and love myself, my voices and my choices

21

Immature Swallows Hungry Beaks Are My Alarm... Time To Gather Worms

0

Jul 14, 2015

Jul 14, 2015 at 4:11 PM UTC

amariah-clift

Nest

Immature Swallows Hungry Beaks Are My Alarm... Time To Gather Worms

3

Write down. seal up. --canned jars of word preservatives saved until years of dust pile memory drippings into prefrontal stalagmites; a child's curiosity. -- Reach maturity all of the sudden it's ready to open mild fermentation. analytical tongues criticize and patronize that I am not the right size Demand and detention coincide degrees and shatter ice well long lived, layered and taught

0

Jul 12, 2015

Jul 12, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC

amariah-clift

This is what happens when you grow up. Ice melts.

Write down. seal up. --canned jars of word preservatives saved until years of dust pile memory drippings into prefrontal stalagmites; a child's curiosity. -- Reach maturity all of the sudden it's ready to open mild fermentation. analytical tongues criticize and patronize that I am not the right size Demand and detention coincide degrees and shatter ice well long lived, layered and taught

12

When I started to write, I sat. seated, leaned, balanced, distributed, coordinated To the chair. the stool, the bed, floor, bar stool, couch, beached log Under my *** cheeks with one freckle on the skin of the left side petite and friendly I am wherever I am. Usually in my head, sometimes nowhere at all. Thinking of word soundings fitting into the nonsensical particles of language. Letters cue the stage curtains of Jedi mind tricks..and mostly only in my head does it sound the way Beethoven wanted his symphony no.9 to echo in his. Out loud is so rambunctious and persuasive. I don't want to persuade. I mean to convince. You cannot read my thoughts, but I know they are beautiful.

0

Dec 14, 2014

Dec 14, 2014 at 9:28 PM UTC

amariah-clift

Were you there when I started to write?

When I started to write, I sat. seated, leaned, balanced, distributed, coordinated To the chair. the stool, the bed, floor, bar stool, couch, beached log Under my *** cheeks with one freckle on the skin of the left side petite and friendly I am wherever I am. Usually in my head, sometimes nowhere at all. Thinking of word soundings fitting into the nonsensical particles of language. Letters cue the stage curtains of Jedi mind tricks..and mostly only in my head does it sound the way Beethoven wanted his symphony no.9 to echo in his. Out loud is so rambunctious and persuasive. I don't want to persuade. I mean to convince. You cannot read my thoughts, but I know they are beautiful.

14