seriousU - Hello Poetry

I’m split for time So, offhand, here, I tip tap a rhyme Dissecting and resembling This Frankenstein text Suffering, the ice of distance Flagging the pole of our love You’ve got a pull, no effort—enough! Cursing the hailstorm that rains from above And don’t get me started See, I’m hardly smarting Ice’s no price when you’re on thrice rejected Yes, that’s no success **** I’ve been there twice X neglected —I’d guess you’d call that my best So I turn from the possible Down fantasy lane Looking in the mirror at phantom me Knocking on reflections, does it even have a name? The ghost of the past made present with past pains I swear these stains won’t come out No matter how the tissue tears No matter the boxes emptied out Costco’s gonna need another round… I shout into the silent replication My reflected repetition Distended, this pretender’s a sinner Me? See, I’m a saint And there’s no role for mercy Hell, I’ll be thirsty when I’m thirty And a little birdy told me you’re sturdy So say hello to your pen-protector perfect nerd Let’s curve the interrogation Move on to you and I Because honestly I’ll lose if we get too far past “Hi.”

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Apr 10, 2018

Apr 10, 2018 at 1:54 AM UTC

Birds at Night Hit Walls

I’m split for time So, offhand, here, I tip tap a rhyme Dissecting and resembling This Frankenstein text Suffering, the ice of distance Flagging the pole of our love You’ve got a pull, no effort—enough! Cursing the hailstorm that rains from above And don’t get me started See, I’m hardly smarting Ice’s no price when you’re on thrice rejected Yes, that’s no success **** I’ve been there twice X neglected —I’d guess you’d call that my best So I turn from the possible Down fantasy lane Looking in the mirror at phantom me Knocking on reflections, does it even have a name? The ghost of the past made present with past pains I swear these stains won’t come out No matter how the tissue tears No matter the boxes emptied out Costco’s gonna need another round… I shout into the silent replication My reflected repetition Distended, this pretender’s a sinner Me? See, I’m a saint And there’s no role for mercy Hell, I’ll be thirsty when I’m thirty And a little birdy told me you’re sturdy So say hello to your pen-protector perfect nerd Let’s curve the interrogation Move on to you and I Because honestly I’ll lose if we get too far past “Hi.”

35

Talking Always talking Clock refusing to stop Haggard chops cop slobber Saliva’s dripping off Bored exhalations Mix Mental ice With Warm air Mere exposure Drafting Numb staring stupor Sleepy Waiting to hear Friday night brew cheers near Oh! There’s an hour cleared! Closing on those last four Funny Hours I fling so freely I most adore

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Oct 27, 2017

Oct 27, 2017 at 6:09 PM UTC

Friday, the Liberator

Talking Always talking Clock refusing to stop Haggard chops cop slobber Saliva’s dripping off Bored exhalations Mix Mental ice With Warm air Mere exposure Drafting Numb staring stupor Sleepy Waiting to hear Friday night brew cheers near Oh! There’s an hour cleared! Closing on those last four Funny Hours I fling so freely I most adore

21

This is real This is true I cut, reform, reshape for you And though it hurts With penknife sting I hope one day You'll accept this ring. So trust me baby Though I cause a fuss I’ll work on past it For the sake of us. Lace my pain with percussive cussing Swear care no matter how you fare Taking turns, till, we in turn fail End nearing, gasp through by breadth of hair. So hold no breaths And cry no tears We’ll be there soon Speak, breathe, forget your fears. It's true our future’s cloudy We're over 8 by 8 by 100 miles away I daily **** up as you tuck in Pledging, “Rest, I don’t jest figure eights.” Numbers don’t matter. And my senses, they’re surely wrong. So why hold both eyes on you? And ask the same for me, just as long? It’s so we both go strain blind Bind souls and minds together Splatter glue hastily agreeing to this eternal song Float handheld in this spaceless place Disintegrating all the walls that fall upon us. … Or those we need to walk through. There, in fantasy, easily we go Each kiss a taste of the love we share That we only alone in our nakedness wear It's clear I would put nothing on or over you Or dare seek some other exchange Because without this arrangement There'd be nothing Besides empty, pitted pangs.

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Oct 22, 2017

Oct 22, 2017 at 9:54 PM UTC

Devoted Pangs

This is real This is true I cut, reform, reshape for you And though it hurts With penknife sting I hope one day You'll accept this ring. So trust me baby Though I cause a fuss I’ll work on past it For the sake of us. Lace my pain with percussive cussing Swear care no matter how you fare Taking turns, till, we in turn fail End nearing, gasp through by breadth of hair. So hold no breaths And cry no tears We’ll be there soon Speak, breathe, forget your fears. It's true our future’s cloudy We're over 8 by 8 by 100 miles away I daily **** up as you tuck in Pledging, “Rest, I don’t jest figure eights.” Numbers don’t matter. And my senses, they’re surely wrong. So why hold both eyes on you? And ask the same for me, just as long? It’s so we both go strain blind Bind souls and minds together Splatter glue hastily agreeing to this eternal song Float handheld in this spaceless place Disintegrating all the walls that fall upon us. … Or those we need to walk through. There, in fantasy, easily we go Each kiss a taste of the love we share That we only alone in our nakedness wear It's clear I would put nothing on or over you Or dare seek some other exchange Because without this arrangement There'd be nothing Besides empty, pitted pangs.

41

I think our priorities are out of order Shuffling, sick addicts chattering mad Pushing boundaries and breaking borders Every letter we type data to record Corporations enslaving us all Political establishment laughable at best I hate to be yet another critic But the optimists have fists Shoved so far up their ***** The hand over their eyes is a mask Blinding them to the cardboard cut outs They watch so religiously And don’t get me started on religion Or how the Earth is literally on fire Easily ignored, thanks to a finite life span Such diatribes are easy Sitting in a chair is easy This is easy We have it easy Feeling uncomfortable is easy But eventually It’s gonna get hard Really, really hard Maybe for us Maybe in a hundred years (so relax, take another hit, no fuss) As for me I’ve always liked my pain before my play So I'm dropping off the jungle gym I have ankles to sprain

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Oct 16, 2017

Oct 16, 2017 at 2:39 AM UTC

Here Today To Ignore Tomorrow

I think our priorities are out of order Shuffling, sick addicts chattering mad Pushing boundaries and breaking borders Every letter we type data to record Corporations enslaving us all Political establishment laughable at best I hate to be yet another critic But the optimists have fists Shoved so far up their ***** The hand over their eyes is a mask Blinding them to the cardboard cut outs They watch so religiously And don’t get me started on religion Or how the Earth is literally on fire Easily ignored, thanks to a finite life span Such diatribes are easy Sitting in a chair is easy This is easy We have it easy Feeling uncomfortable is easy But eventually It’s gonna get hard Really, really hard Maybe for us Maybe in a hundred years (so relax, take another hit, no fuss) As for me I’ve always liked my pain before my play So I'm dropping off the jungle gym I have ankles to sprain

30

In the time before, I was empty, miserable inside, A wretch whose every smile was war, Whimpering for a curtained place to hide. The day, desolate; Night, in its black stillness much the same. Pitched pain, itching for an exit, Legs set to cease the heaving hate and blame. Now, I feel my heart Beating love-blest power through my chest. Before unfelt, its bucking start Divests the owner, all along mere guest. Symphony, rise, crest, Condescend to my low-sighted view. I sleep to wake, straight-up obsessed, Eight letters and a period for you. Careful now, don’t jest, Lest my past peers profitable heist, Dethroned selves sing out through the mesh, Anguished, set to vanquish their sole poltergeist. So, patch; never cease Paragon of love’s delightful dawn, Persisting for the barest piece Of you, the whole of why I am not gone.

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Oct 16, 2017

Oct 16, 2017 at 12:58 AM UTC

Soul Birth

In the time before, I was empty, miserable inside, A wretch whose every smile was war, Whimpering for a curtained place to hide. The day, desolate; Night, in its black stillness much the same. Pitched pain, itching for an exit, Legs set to cease the heaving hate and blame. Now, I feel my heart Beating love-blest power through my chest. Before unfelt, its bucking start Divests the owner, all along mere guest. Symphony, rise, crest, Condescend to my low-sighted view. I sleep to wake, straight-up obsessed, Eight letters and a period for you. Careful now, don’t jest, Lest my past peers profitable heist, Dethroned selves sing out through the mesh, Anguished, set to vanquish their sole poltergeist. So, patch; never cease Paragon of love’s delightful dawn, Persisting for the barest piece Of you, the whole of why I am not gone.

24

I push my body to its limits, Then push my mind. There are no limits.

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Oct 15, 2017

Oct 15, 2017 at 8:38 PM UTC

Confined to Infinity

I push my body to its limits, Then push my mind. There are no limits.

3

The worse pain One can feel Is ripping the heart From the one you love. And crying. Crying. Just crying. (How can there be so many tears?) As their blood (The blood you love) (The blood you would exchange One speck of For oceans upon oceans Of your own) —Your blood— Dribbles down your chin, Dripping and dropping into the abyss You have created. You are the monster Both of, and by, Your own design. Hell welcomes you as one of their own. But you're getting away lightly. What must their pain be?

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Oct 8, 2017

Oct 8, 2017 at 5:56 PM UTC

Despicable

The worse pain One can feel Is ripping the heart From the one you love. And crying. Crying. Just crying. (How can there be so many tears?) As their blood (The blood you love) (The blood you would exchange One speck of For oceans upon oceans Of your own) —Your blood— Dribbles down your chin, Dripping and dropping into the abyss You have created. You are the monster Both of, and by, Your own design. Hell welcomes you as one of their own. But you're getting away lightly. What must their pain be?

24

The pineapple is the whole, Whether in the ground Or in your bowl. Rock in hand; above, down, pound. Crack the spiny hull. Sweet juice is found.

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Oct 6, 2017

Oct 6, 2017 at 10:40 PM UTC

Pineapple

The pineapple is the whole, Whether in the ground Or in your bowl. Rock in hand; above, down, pound. Crack the spiny hull. Sweet juice is found.

6

I’m cocky, I’m clumsy, Fumbling about everywhere; Catching applause, dodging boos, I am addicted to the fear. Then, Cortisol spikes, Please don’t leave me left alone again. I’ve talked too long to Wall, And it’s drips are dropping in. From the lashes of my eyes To my ten ice-tipped toenails, I’m shivering, alone, destined to just— —Warmth interrupts. On my bed sits a Person. I’m startled, taken aback. I pressed end, A new song began. This person takes a gentle breath, Blows it out light, Expels all my demons. A world's revealed, seems alright: One where I don’t have to fight? The binary: break through or break down? Faking, then overtaxing, my mental might? My complex analyses of everything, —My foremost forte— Was the invisible tangible holding me back. How silly of me To make power moves in a vacuum At terminal velocity, Until, by degrees, I was turned off track, Distracted by these demented deals, The fine print details that I needed, but lack, And its back to the yard, then back to the— —Warmth interrupts. My Person takes my hand, Pulls us back, Till side by side We lay. I close my eyes, And forget that wall, Forget all those screaming caterwauls, Forget the hate, the pain, the torture, Though I still hear it call. All it took was all there is, Two hands clasped In a bed for One.

0

Sep 25, 2017

Sep 25, 2017 at 5:52 PM UTC

Warmth Interrupts.

I’m cocky, I’m clumsy, Fumbling about everywhere; Catching applause, dodging boos, I am addicted to the fear. Then, Cortisol spikes, Please don’t leave me left alone again. I’ve talked too long to Wall, And it’s drips are dropping in. From the lashes of my eyes To my ten ice-tipped toenails, I’m shivering, alone, destined to just— —Warmth interrupts. On my bed sits a Person. I’m startled, taken aback. I pressed end, A new song began. This person takes a gentle breath, Blows it out light, Expels all my demons. A world's revealed, seems alright: One where I don’t have to fight? The binary: break through or break down? Faking, then overtaxing, my mental might? My complex analyses of everything, —My foremost forte— Was the invisible tangible holding me back. How silly of me To make power moves in a vacuum At terminal velocity, Until, by degrees, I was turned off track, Distracted by these demented deals, The fine print details that I needed, but lack, And its back to the yard, then back to the— —Warmth interrupts. My Person takes my hand, Pulls us back, Till side by side We lay. I close my eyes, And forget that wall, Forget all those screaming caterwauls, Forget the hate, the pain, the torture, Though I still hear it call. All it took was all there is, Two hands clasped In a bed for One.

47

i've got the dark side of the moon On its back, crescent-cut, undereye. A sign of my exhaustion, Which i use to fuel my rise. Everything below but bare remembrance, Like my fridge, running empty. Or so i surmise. Guess i'll fill it or guess I'll die. This approach? Unsustainable. i'm ragged, climbing through life, The slope only slows, steepening, i Think it's about time I fly.

0

Sep 25, 2017

Sep 25, 2017 at 4:50 AM UTC

Whose Wishes Come True?

i've got the dark side of the moon On its back, crescent-cut, undereye. A sign of my exhaustion, Which i use to fuel my rise. Everything below but bare remembrance, Like my fridge, running empty. Or so i surmise. Guess i'll fill it or guess I'll die. This approach? Unsustainable. i'm ragged, climbing through life, The slope only slows, steepening, i Think it's about time I fly.

12