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M Clement Jan 2014
I've written for a long time,
In the silent pauses between words.
M Clement Apr 2013
There's so many emotions
        that are conveyed with ten words
M Clement May 2015
Hello, dear friends and family,
I write you on behalf of your own dis-functionality. Break away the molds of a less mortal man. Ne'er again will I be what I am. I am anachronistic I'm a flower. I expect sunshine I expect showers. I am lesser than an 8th grade child. Come with me Mr. Rogers, stay awhile.
Ulcers, explosions, colonoscopy, I'd like "things that come from the back side of me" for 500, Alex.
Reflex my mental perceptions and premarital sexuality. I'm Catholic, we're catholic; I think you're understanding me.
I used to write for you, but now I write for me. Pac Man ate my ***** yesterday, and a ghost I shall be.
Fan me the cool feels, fan me the sweet deals; I'd like to make money sometimes, but that's just the worldly me.
Let's be humerus, I'm flexing my skeletal muscles. Bone me twice, I'm flexible: tussle.
An antiperception of lesser mortal men, let us not take umbrage to the second tense of Portman's skin.
I see you, girl; I see you girl. I'm not interested, but that body speaks worlds.
Is that weird? I guess you can admire beauty without falling into lust. I suppose that's normal, save when staring at bust.
Let me anchor you; let me father. I'm not writing for my son, nor my daughter.
There's some serious necessities, there's some serious faults. I love you, and that's the honest truth, but what happens if we're lost? Five more words to go.
M Clement Mar 2013
3 days
4 months
5 hours
6 minutes
7 ways to make you say "ooh"

I bought pizza kittens flying through space
Find your advertising ***-hole on my shirt

Let's travel to Pacoima
I hear it's nice there
Left field relationships
Right behind the nearest Amusement Park
It's getting easier not to give a ****

Oh goodness, language, good sir
Let's me and me lay down naked
Bear's fur

I do enough self loathing for the both of us
I've tried to keep vigilant
Self-******* for the hell of it
I spaced this one to the right

I take showers in flowers made of Novocaine and sea salt
I just realized the misspelling of lyrics and song names will never by my fault
Long lines of words and *******
Let's go to the nearest cineplex
Bottellas de vino y mas cerveza para mi!
Let's watch Jurassic Park in 3D
M Clement Dec 2013
Title Fight
Fighting Rights
Dining light
And finger ******* away feelings.

I wanted to make that stuff that’d rhyme
Only to realize I’ve yet to mime
And find time
To reference the Power Rangers in a piece.

Nobody does that.
Why did I do that?
Whobody does what?
Whybody does who?

What the **** am I?
Who the **** are you?

Language, Mr. Clement, language.
Reign that tongue in before I stick it to a frozen pole
Welcome to this fuster-cluck of language and thought colliding with emotion and pseudo-intelligence. Enjoy.
M Clement May 2013
I awoke early morning
And saw a hand to my side
reaching so silently for my face
I pressed my head against it

Only to realize

It was no hand

It was a blanket tucked a certain way
And I was lying on a twin mattress

M Clement Apr 2014
Aaaaah, ***** my side-ache
And ***** me inside

I left my mind back a couple of days ago,
I'm behind on the times

Football, Meetball, Youball, eyeball

Wordplay's for *******, and I'm oh so catty.

What's wrong with digestion?
And where's my humerus when I need it most?

I have little left to say to either you or I, but I'll keep talking so it looks like I'm halfway to a quarter of insanity.

I miss not touchés or is it touches?
Relationships, man.
What's the best of these and what's the worst of 'em?

Strap me to a bomb so my thoughts get exploded for all to see.

I never wanted to put you ahead of me,
and that's a lie.
M Clement Feb 2013
I stared into the abyss
And it stared back

My eyes Hazel
Its eyes black

I screamed, I yelled
I condemned it to hell

I stared into the abyss
And it stared back

Knowing me far too well
Sharing is caring: this is from my personal stash (my notebook). Enjoy... please?
M Clement Jan 2013
Guess what?
The title has nothing
to do with what
you're reading.
Don't care.

Sweep through my insides
Signing away my life on a slip of paper
God's given graces
God's men
You looked like you had a fork tongue

I came to you
Dressed in Enjoi and a Beanie
I wanted to hide the cat gang on my shirt
Look presentable
I was in front of the higher ups
This was serious stuff
But you mistreated it
I should have come naked
And flopped my **** around
It would have been about as serious
As you took this get together

Wow, that was atrocious
I can't believe I wrote that
But these feelings are true
And I won't try to fight back
My wording could be better
That I will admit,
But honestly, the way you handled this
Makes me sick

So I sign again,
Hoping this time, for the better
I signed this piece of paper
Letter by letter

Signed the date,
And away
Goes that weekend
On a retreat

Hoping for different
Not expecting much
Praying for better
Than a fancy lunch
Super personal poem, but felt it necessary to write.
Not super relatable, and for that I'm sorry.
M Clement Jul 2015
"If I never write you," she said,
"you'll know I've found what I needed."
And thus they parted ways...
And he still awaits a letter.
M Clement Feb 2014
My names are misnomers,
but you already knew that.

My lines are free flowing,
but these give no credence to that.

I wish to let you know I live,
and let you know desire's back.

I care, I care, I care so deeply,
and that is the end of that.
GUYS, GUYS! I was inspired to write again! YAY! :D Hopefully I'll be back on more. We shall see.
M Clement May 2013
Addiction is
Sitting at this computer
And still looking through a catalogue of emotions.
Highs and lows
Spirited Woes
And all the things not so secret

Addiction is
Not really willing to give you up
Or leave your life
Even though part of me really wants to
But the majority doesn't.

Addiction is
Putting up with my own ****** writing
Infused with infatuation, cheap words,
And half-hearted flattery

Addiction is
Still texting you good luck
But wondering under what context it will be read
Hoping that it's under a new leaf
of understanding

Addiction is
Hoping the best for you
And realizing that, I too,
Need to be elsewhere
God Bless this twisted emotion-riddled mind of mine, and may He bless you evermore abundantly.
M Clement Aug 2013
My father always had a picture
hanging up over the mantle.

It was an oil,
possibly acrylic, painting.

I've always been terrible with art,
and the definitions and distinctions

It had a gold-leaf frame, and I recall,
as a child, staring at the shine
that the sun reflected off of the
beautiful gold that surrounded the

The picture itself, however, was
far more extraneous:
a deer head and the body of a businessman.

The suited businessman's body sat in a chair,
within the painting, but instead of a man's head
poking out of the collar, there was a deer's head.
It was adorned with antlers, two to be exact, and
it sat above that mantle, staring emotionless into you
or the distance.

I was never sure which it was.

And after my father passed, I inherited the deer head
and the body of a businessman.
I have an idea for a series of poems revolving around the title of this particular one. I hope to see it to the end as well as pick back up on some previous goals of poetry.
M Clement Aug 2013
I’m not sure what implored me to put the picture as my centerfold.
Of that I’m sure I’ll never know.
Instead, I just did. No questions asked.
Though the picture had always perturbed me in a slight, quiet way, it was something that my father prided enough.
Why should I not pride it as well?
Besides, my wife said it really “tied the room together”.

I told her that I still didn’t understand that phrase,

But that’s neither here nor there.

Every day, I passed that painting on the way out the door,
And on the way back in to the heart of my home.
My wife and I embraced a multitude of times
in front of our deer-headed ******
In his suit, painted onto that canvas, framed with gold leaf
That shined just so, when the sun hit it.
And I’ll always remember that my father left it for me
When he died.

Me specifically.

I inherited the deer head, and the body of a businessman.
Finally got the inspiration to write part two. Though I have a general outline of what I want out of this series, I'm not sure how it will end, or even what each poem will hold. I'm very excited to see how it turns out. Are you?
M Clement Aug 2013
I remember that day specifically;
How could I forget it?

The day my wife passed.
Or left.
I consider it the same.

It was July of 2003, and
the 17th day of said month.
She looked at me bewildered.
As women are oft to do when they don't understand me.
She said something that I only
remember as incoherent.
For I was elsewhere.

She had stated something
about my lack of work.
While it's true,
I had not seen my cubicle in weeks,
I had more important matters in which to attend.
She lacked understanding,

And as she reached for the piece in which I was staring at,
Threatening to tear it up,
To burn it,
I lashed out in such anger that I ne'er knew was possible.
I screamed
as through force, I knocked her down.
I threatened to tear her up,
to burn her.
And with wide eyes filling with tears,
She left me alone
Alone in the house
Staring silently at the deer head
and the body of a businessman

That my father had left me
When he left me

The inheritance of the deer head and the body of a businessman.
M Clement Apr 2015
With ode to the blue skies
and fan-fares of yesteryears

To the bitter cold realities of
Ten-plus pills per morning

I wept on the clouds of
dream-like depressions

And you, and you, and you,
You're gonna love me.
First in a while, especially on this site. I have been writing off and on for quite some time... I suppose the tradition continues.
M Clement Dec 2012
To look at a child,
And realize you had a part in
Her or his creation

To hold said child,
And realize this child would lack
Existence without you

You created, much like your Father,
A life, a human life
To be cherished, held, and loved
Like your Father did for you.

Beauty in each and every little finger
Curiosity lingering in each eye
The world has yet to know you,
Dear child
What will you show them?
M Clement Aug 2013
There happens to be duller
In the incarnations
of my silence, thank you.
M Clement May 2013
I hope you're reading this
Because I miss you like crazy
I miss the many nights, I was privileged with
Calling you baby

I remember the night
Where you told me how you felt
And how naked, lying next to you
I was beside myself

You told me you make people feel calm
I think it's more than that
And I'm addicted to your tumblr
I hate that I know where it's at

Because you're a ******* drug to me
And withdrawal hurts so badly
I've thought about you 10,000 times today alone
And I know that I'm acting madly

I'm crazy about you
And you feel the same
So, why is this so much easier
In my brain?

In there, we're married
And everything's ok
But in real life, we're struggling
And We've both seen so much pain

There's love for you here
But it's so strong, that I can't be there
I can't hold you back
I can't keep you to myself.

I love you too much to be selfish.
I'm trying to give you the world.
He's out there.
Find him
And know, that I dearly wish he were
Love is patient, and love is kind. Why is love so difficult?
M Clement Apr 2015
I am a Fuster Cluck
I am mother-duck

Color my medically mental psychiatriosis

Snowball my eyeballs into your throat-hole
"I never asked for this," said Adam Jensen's blow-hole.

I feel best self medicated on that fire-water's chest
Feel my insides warm as my outsides loosen
I may explodinate my thought bubble-quotient

I'm sick of being in my head
Worrying about you, worrying about life

Lay it at the foot of the cross
I know which one
So why am I sitting here holding all my problems in my arms
Cradling them like a small child?
I just wanted to write.
M Clement Aug 2015
Putting fingers to keys
is as laborious as pushing a nail through my flesh.

Slow, painful, and weighted.

If there were something to say, it's been said before.
If there was something to do, it's been done before.

I am a mouth of sand overflow.
My hands do nothing but bring shame upon my family name,
and my feet sludge through confusion and ambiguity.
M Clement Dec 2013
|I had it.|
Implore me
There was something
There was.

Something in the water
Holy mountain
Uproot and walk
[Something in the water]

Blue dream
Apparently smokeable
Kush life
Kush type
(Never smoked a day in my time.)

Box this.
Print it
Box it.
I could try and draw lines
Just send it to me.

Look closer
Ever over Ever
There was a point here
As there was over there
And if you connect them
There's a picture

The point of this poem is that it means nothing
but everything in it means something at some point.

Long lines
I just need some shades
This was experimental for me. I just went, and I think it's really bizarre.
M Clement Feb 2013
Here's the truth dear Rabbit
I've fallen down the hole, now
And I need you take down what I'm saying
It's important, I tell you

I want so dearly to reveal myself
Let me rephrase:
I want to lay with someone
In a simple way
Give of myself
Someone else will enjoy me more than I
Rabbit, you understand, don't you?
You of all...
Know of *******
You're a rabbit.
Don't look at me so *****-ly
You're a rabbit, you have a reputation about you

You do understand me, don't you?
I guess I should explain
No, keep writing
If I'm gone, it should be told
I want to lay with someone,
Because my vulnerability is not something I want to share
If I truly open up
Rather than acting like I have it all together...
By the way, I hardly accomplish that
You saw me crying by the tree, did you not?
That's the whole reason I've fallen down
I wanted to escape
I so badly want to be with a woman
To escape
I know better
But that doesn't mean I act better

Dear Rabbit, have you finished?
I think I'm done ranting.
If you would please,
Post that on the tree outside this hole
I have to explore escape
I just realized how much I hate this poem.
M Clement Sep 2013
There's an alarm going off;
it's not a siren, mind you,
but an alarm.

The very same buzzing and
beeping that oft
assaults our dreams
and sleep-havens;
bringing us back to the
dreary sunlight of day,
or the last few moments of night
clinging to what life it has left.

This alarm, of which I speak to
you now, is continuing.
The continuous assault on my
eardrums throughout everything
I do.
I walk through the leaves that begin
to grace the ground, saying "hello" to
the dirt that it's been so far from for so
Within the sanctity of the classroom,
where professors grace students
with life lessons and years of experience
or lack thereof.
Within my own home where I continue
to make a meal for the evening, desiring
not to go hungry.


I hear it everywhere, and
as I reach for the button, to stop
this incessant noise
barraging my thoughts
and ears, I realize, I'm awake,
and I've been awake all this time.
There is no off button for this alarm.

What is it reminding me of?
What do I need to awake from?
I'm not sure I'm satisfied with how this turned out. May come back to it.
M Clement Feb 2015
I have written since
I have written hence
and on my emotions,
Someone pressed mute.

I give a hoot
owls, towels

Let's make *** to Sam Smith
M Clement Jan 2013
Under the steam and jets of pressure
I held my face to my hands
And created a pressure from muscle
Bone to muscle
And various tissues in between
Leading to flesh
Pressing against flesh

I wanted to remold my face
To change my appearance

I can't explain it
I think I'm sick
And no, this is not
Pre-teen melodramatic ****

I mean sick
I'm dripping ink
Drowning in sin.
I don't know where up is
Or where to begin...
I hate this, but it's nonetheless true.
M Clement May 2014
You store, my friend,
All that I care about.
You and I are not too far from similar... brothers perhaps.
We seem to like the same music
You seem to dig my literature
My writings
My every file
My pics, My loves, hell, even my cookies.
I'm sorry they aren't of the baked variety.
Thanks pal,
I suppose you and I aren't so dissimilar after all.
Now if only I were to become a
disembodied storer of data...
*We'd practically be twins.
Prompts of Twitter, Tumblr, Facebook; this prompt: affinity to the cloud.
M Clement Dec 2012
******* alike angels, allowing acts almost as awful as ****
Will finish up the alphabet soon. This is 1/26.
M Clement Dec 2012
British beauties bewilder background believers bringing backwards beliefs
M Clement Jan 2013
(Did I cover all the bases?)
M Clement Nov 2018
I feel like ****
I've hit a ditch
Flipped my side
****** my ride
I'm in the pit
I ate a 'wich
I saw the tide
The Dude Abides

**** with your human
I'm unimportant
Lack of dereliction
Leaves me inordinate
I'm a work of fiction
Take me and my dic(k)tion
I am losing friction:
I'm falling out my mind.
M Clement Dec 2012
Normally, I have something to write
But today is poorly lacking

Too many arguments in just as many days
Comebacks are the things I'm saving

Did I mention virginity?
Want to see my V-card?

Let's call this high school baby,
I can be your point-guard

Sexuality and innuendos
Silence, is what I need.
Let's play horse, baby
I'll be your steed
M Clement Dec 2013
I stare silently into the window,
For the briefest moment
I believe in another universe
And another me, struggling with the same

And then she walks by,
And all illusion is lost
M Clement Mar 2013
Color me confused,
As one most often will do,
To strike a note with a concordance of thieves.

Away, away sweet thoughts on paper,
Melodrama and cherishment be thine.
Add a dash of insecurity
And away all conscious thought processes go.

A tongue-tied shade of green, you always seem to put me.
Playing without knowledge, with my thoughts and mind.

Deep within the castle walls, a creature stands listless,
With eyes of hazel and face chiseled in anguish and confusion.

To say that a man is a man is but one side of an ever-evolving equation,
And I can’t help but feel at loss.
For what should be with great elation to be near, all I feel is lost

With emotions in a tizzy,
To keep my mind busy,
One must try almost too hard.
So take what I say,
Writ it okay,
And pay no attention to my advances.
Sharing is caring
My poetry's pretty dark, right now; this was something lighter.
M Clement Jan 2013
Here lies X,
Presumptuous isn't it?
A little bit of pomp in lieu of starting a poem
Written for everyone to see;
Nonetheless, here I lie.

This isn't a suicide note
I'm not dying tonight
This is a desire note

A desire to see the man I am die.
This isn't a pity party,
This isn't a threat to me, and please don't worry

This is religious.
I won't claim it as any other.
I wish to see me die.

The "man" who sees a cross
And looks away
For fear of changing what I'm doing
Because, honestly, it makes me feel good.

I look to a crucifix on Sunday
Believe in Transubstantiation
But I still can't get enough of women fornicating on the web.

It hurts to write this down
But to those of you who read it,
I want you to know
I'm drowning

This is struggle.
I don't want this
But everything earthly about me does

There needs to be a look
Outside of self
But I'm happy in this cottage
I need to get out
It's burning down
But the fire is what's keeping me warm

I'm not trying to play
Like I'm really ok,
Because fact of the matter:
I'm not

The absolute worst part:
I've said this a million times.
A million and one.
This is what I'm struggling with. I think I'm done, and there I fall again.
M Clement Nov 2013
Am I truly an artist  
If I do not speak from lucidity?

Am I truly an artist
If my words do not keep me awake?

Am I truly an artist
If my art flows from a concoction of ability, timeliness, and boredom?

Am I truly an artist
If there is a struggle to find words left in these veins?

Am I truly an artist
If there is nothing more to say?
Am I an artist, or an imposter? Do I write, or mimic? Is there something here, or am I imagining things?
M Clement Apr 2015
Spinning, spinning:
Tread lightly, so softly

She pitter patters 'cross The floor

Mirrors show the grace
and softened steps
and light reflect the tenacity at which she pursues them both


M Clement Apr 2014
That's it.
The name is the theme
The theme's in the name.

I'm listening to the 4th of July on Spotify
That rhymed; unintentional
Do you even listen to "The Lonely Island", bro?

I'm so clever.

This is a thank you note, dad.
I'm going to talk to you soon.

It's like we're on different planets
Except you're on the moon.

Not too distant,
but altogether too far for me to travel

Altogether too far for you to travel.

We can't even carry conversation

*Isn't it fun?
M Clement Oct 2013
With the clocks aligned center
And the candles melting off my eye sockets
And the fingers of my lovers intertwining down my spine
And the thoughts of crows affecting the coffee that I spilled down the floorboards
And the mental images that blow through the TV screen
The imposition that breaks my messed up fingers,
pounded by misogyny that I named a hammer.
Greatness awaits the brunettes
And the fine

Unbeknownst to me,
There's nothing in my mind worth words.
There's nothing in my mind worth words,
Unbeknownst to me.

And there's nothing left in these nerves
And my bones decorate the walls
And my mind is plastered where my head lays
On my bed
And, oh, as tears leave the ceiling
Dripping on passersby
I silently hope
For unbecoming.
This was a product of deciding, *I'm going to write* and blaring music. I always love that exercise.
M Clement Jun 2013
As sin slowly covered my skin
My soul cries out
And I try to drown myself
Hopefully I'll still be accepted
M Clement Jun 2013
I broke the camel
He played the hypotenuse
He's smoothing the lump
M Clement Jun 2013
I don't deserve Your forgiveness
Nor Your attention
But I will keep asking for it
And hopefully stop falling
M Clement Jun 2013
There's a weird pain in my chest
I say it's weird because of the circumstances surrounding

We're done
I don't miss us
And I'm happy to be your friend

I don't even miss having that person in my life
You know, the foil
The other
The one that completes you
And maybe that's because
I've never truly experienced that

What I miss is love
What I miss is gratitude
What I miss is recognition
I want to be there for someone
Not really for my sake, but for theirs
I want to be of assistance

But at the same time, greedily,
I want to be noticed for it.
M Clement Dec 2012
A question, furious cousin.
Do not allow ignorance
My son and daughter

Do not allow your mind
To become the cannon fodder

Ignorance is bliss
Can that be said for Divine?

Take my two cents
There is left but a dime

The broken bloodied hand
Of yesterday’s time

Is left severed and withered
In the dirt next to
A coal mine

We settle for complexity
Because fighting is beyond me

Fighting for simplicity
Seems but a mess to me

Live better
We men
We live longer.
M Clement Nov 2013
Between two worlds
Effervescent body
Earthly ties

Contrived meanings
Words expressing experiences, they feel ridiculous, hence the ending.
M Clement Nov 2012
As if it didn’t matter
Please, spit again
I’m all but flattered

I’ll pace
I’ll wretch
Let me turn inside out for you

Oh, the time you said we could meet
Didn’t work out it proved

Sweating bullets to clockwork
Let’s imbibe until we *****
Can’t handle myself
Let’s get this cleaned with comet

Screaming double standard
Please, return to your normal emotion
I’ll keep my cool
Rocking on this **** colored ocean.
M Clement Dec 2015
I haven't written in a long time.
The slave-driving mind of mine forces these chained hands
into spilling ink to canvas.

The woods are crawling with impossibilities,
as the nowhere home calls me evermore.

I walk a distance to find myself back at the entrance of it all.
The alpha, the beginning.

Is this growth? Is this monumental?
We give credence to paper.
It's no longer a tool for survival, but a god in our pockets.
A Christmas ******* miracle.
There are times where I'd like to cry,
But as a friend said, "my tear ducts were seared closed long ago."
The Forest crawls with impossibilities.
The trees beckon,
and I slowly begin again.
M Clement Jul 2014
There's nothing more humbling
Than a good ***** up, right?
M Clement Mar 2013
Movement issues
Occupy Parkinson’s
We are the 99% of the muscles
That don’t ******* work right.
I watched a video on Parkinson's disease. Interesting stuff.
I don't know what put me on the Occupy Movement, though.
M Clement Mar 2013
Gas station, masked man
   Save tolls for the gas can
Clean feet, ***** dozen
   Remedies for the cousin

   Sweat shops, floor mops
Save the blood for the dance floor
   Bewitched, leg twitched
Good Aiming Rednecks

Saving gay couples from the ***
I'm reading Michael Robbins, at the moment, and I find his style similar to what I wish I could write. Stuff that's open, a little ******, but honest and witty. Maybe that's what I already write; I'm not sure, but this is an offspring of mimicry.
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