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Nat Lipstadt Nov 2022
How many poems does one individual contain?

Ahh you say!

Why unlimited are our of-coursing emotional exhalations,
our sighted and insighted sparks
like forest fires they come ad infinitum!

THEN the mind’s eye blinks, then word blindness follows
in phased arrays of
gaps that cannot always be easy pencil filled, permanent inked,
as locked and closeted,
and put away in a glass jar of formaldehyde.

I see, I feel, I hear, I read and react;
a notion,
a title born,
perhaps even a line or two follow-on scratched and etched,
even refetched
but followed then
by the deafening quietude of a stillbirth breeched
the emptiness of a blanketing blank,
a glance too short,
a foam extrusion whitening the spark into nothingness,
the death of a poem in a forest…

and you can’t care!

more such wordless poems have I buried than the
talkative children I’ve birthed,
old age delimits me now, my eyes failing, my hearing lessening,
the senses eroding, and worse, the frustration morphs
NOT INTO caring,
for the days of wine and roses, the mid-of-night urgency of
try, try poetic ****** is now a sinful spilled residue
on the wooden floor,
crumpled sheets of spermatozoa failure to perform…

the wastebasket
is a into a silo of mockery, a self-administered glass shot
of saltwater, bitter herbs, lamentations, an impassable gateway nominally know as 502, a wide, emptied moat of “haha on you!”

thus an answer forms,
there is no endless, growing,
inhumanly impossible trumpeting crescendo voice that doesn’t falter, eventually!
a petering out, a tangled, gordon knot of a shoe-laced Nat voice that cannot be untied by creaking fingers that scream ¡no más!

Even though
you believe, you yet possess the tools, though well worn smooth,
the belt lies heavy on the hips and its removal a welcoming

let me abide in peace, trigger me not, and the
answer is and always had been, this one, or the next one,
or the one prior is perhaps the finale, you will never know,
and if you do,
you will never permit yourself to utter aloud,

terminé et terminé!

in sæcula sæculorum imperf!

forever and forever unfinished finish!

!last one out, turn off the light!
Eve Sep 2020
Today I was accused to being a bad influence yet again,

Simply because I facilitate the forbidden wants/needs of the people I love,

Simply because I give them a place to get high and vent without being judged,

Simply because I create an aura where they feel free to express themselves in whatever ways they like- modest, humble even ******,

And simply because the ones they love refuse to facilitate their haram (forbidden).

Haram is bad – we all know this

But being human is about passing through all things good and all things bad.

Being a Muslim, most of my choices are haram;

Not properly attired to the laws of my religion,

My speech is not of a young lady with modesty- rather it is defined with sheer profanity,

I rather laugh from my heart even though it’s supposedly a *****’s act,

I refuse to lower my gaze around men; the same men that stole from me

The same men that refused to lower their gaze from me.

I deny myself the potential for love because of the expectation of great dismay

And I drown myself with the 34000 thoughts of what if??!

This poem is becoming a disaster; my thoughts aren’t flowing straight,

I went from bad influence to haram to rebellious to depressing;

What the **** is this **** going on inside my head- it aches with great displeasure.

How do I contain my contradicting self?

Someone help me please, my soul is crying and sobbing for something to fill this void-

The void that is desperately trying to full itself with the acceptance of the people who are hell bent on not accepting me.

Why am I like this? A contradicting ******* disaster

Lance McDonald Jul 2020
A container with infinite capabilities
Contains concern, doubt, mistrust

The emptiness is full
Filled with shapes
Things indescribable
Trapped within
No escape

Contain, hold, isolate
Same meaning, different capabilities
Choose the container’s purpose
Close it with a thought
Open it
To unveil your next path
The first poem I've written in years
annh Apr 2020
He looked better in a mask than I did without.
‘The World Health Organization (WHO) is considering changing its guidance on whether people should wear face masks in public, prompted by new evidence that suggests doing so could help contain the pandemic.’
- Hannah Devlin and Denis Campbell

Looking through my drafts I found this micro - an unusable remnant from a longer piece about keeping up appearances. A word written without a second thought to connote pretence or disguise, now gives me reason to pause. To mask, or not to mask, that is the question. :§
Skye Mar 2020
i am
dripped in honey,
a golden sheen
my body,
coursing through
my veins
in luxury.
i am
an interlude;
the space
between your fingers
were not made
to contain me.
a 5-part series of a style i'm exploring.
Aaron E Aug 2019
You better practice.
The alacrity with which we crawl is grievous

We aren't laughing.
We're the ******* and you can not deceive us

We remember

We envelope the view of stolen streets
and only speak
to show the fury stoked beneath the yoke
and only speak until we don't

We know that it's enough.
We know that's all it takes.
To only speak.

For us to say that you are weak
and you rely on our feet
for what's involved in your deceit

That's all it takes for you to falter.
We chew the noose and loosen halter

But once the halter loosens your abuses,
still within the 'blood and soil',
boil over our brims and filter fire out
from within.

We're coming.
Contain us or try.
It won't matter.
We know the saints and the lies,
and you'll get fatter.
And you'll be food for the flies
and we won't choose to abide;
to let the bruises subside.
We're unhinged in every way we know can chew you inside.
It won't be talking.

We know that it's enough to scare you
But your fear won't be enough to spare you.
K Balachandran Mar 2019
love wash them as waves,
neither he or she grabs it;
where would it contain?
Pyrrha Jul 2018
Sometimes I toss and turn at night
I can feel a thousand others do the same
We all lie awake with these thoughts dripping from the faucet of our brain

We always try
To turn the handle
Make them stop
Yet every attempt is in vain
There is nothing we could do to keep these thoughts contained

There is no drain for them to slip away
Instead they cause a flood in our minds
They make you realize there is no way to rewind
Trapped once again by the bars hidden behind our eyes

We continue to toss and turn
Attempting to shake away the truth of our mortality and find a way to dream of a place where happiness is not bought

These thoughts at night are louder than in the day
They scream like sirens
And you can't turn them off
Accidentally published it before I finished it oops
Why are you trying to be his world?  
He can't contain every star in your body.

Every galaxy in your eyes

Whenever the whole solar system would spin on your smile.  

He can't
You are
Don't  let anybody tell you,  you're  not enough
Dawn Jupiter Apr 2018
jasmine jostles
leaves fold

I watch

steel and glass contain
assuaged by structure

the wind blows
but not here
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