#blanche - Hello Poetry

We live in the unlighted state of America Where what happens when we turn the lights off Is dealt with darkness And matters of delicate touch Are treated with sharpness When our only language Is to inflict anguish We cut connections in the bedroom To clear our cynical head room For contempt and judgement People looking for a feeling to fall into Or a reason to live Must face frigid climates When the public invades privacy And ill fated ****** exploits Pervade salacious tabloids Our ****** regrets Cut the deepest Society reaps them Sowing us together with resentment We provide each other with relief But not the relief we're looking for We give each other hours of relief Until those useless hours become days And those fruitless days become years That engender endless tears As it remains warm in our car But the winter outside freezes anything that breaks the plane And our air conditioning only helps so much When the spinning wheels are in our faces There is a national coverage in the media That presents a bleak picture of the ****** health of America I feel I sit somewhere in between *** offenders and a disgusted public When I observe the observers Who are too scared shitless to ever face their own emotions Judge those for overindulging in their emotions They lived their life in fear and safety So they could be the righteous ones To admonish the risk takers and mistake makers Yet they are of the least value to humanity They're the people who grade all your answers as incorrect Without providing their perfect alternatives While trying to erase the context Because of what the context has to say about society People feeling that they can never be emotionally vulnerable Until they experience sheer desperation And no dollar contract Can replace human contact Yet we give men so much money and power And ask them to feel fine in our cold shower Until we are soiled by their intention A nation committed to selling Stella Artois A nation full of Blanche DuBois Humanity folds in on itself When we attack with *** Humanity does itself a disservice By not trying to understand these attacks honestly We forsake forgiveness And embrace desperation Until we become unbearably desperate For attention For approval For ****** contact For money For validation And sometimes our desperate desires become tangled I'd like to think of that as love And not a meeting between two practical rapists That conjoin in the middle Yet somehow come out distorted on the other side

0

Nov 26, 2017

Nov 26, 2017 at 4:55 AM UTC

andrew-rueter

Blanche DuBois

We live in the unlighted state of America Where what happens when we turn the lights off Is dealt with darkness And matters of delicate touch Are treated with sharpness When our only language Is to inflict anguish We cut connections in the bedroom To clear our cynical head room For contempt and judgement People looking for a feeling to fall into Or a reason to live Must face frigid climates When the public invades privacy And ill fated ****** exploits Pervade salacious tabloids Our ****** regrets Cut the deepest Society reaps them Sowing us together with resentment We provide each other with relief But not the relief we're looking for We give each other hours of relief Until those useless hours become days And those fruitless days become years That engender endless tears As it remains warm in our car But the winter outside freezes anything that breaks the plane And our air conditioning only helps so much When the spinning wheels are in our faces There is a national coverage in the media That presents a bleak picture of the ****** health of America I feel I sit somewhere in between *** offenders and a disgusted public When I observe the observers Who are too scared shitless to ever face their own emotions Judge those for overindulging in their emotions They lived their life in fear and safety So they could be the righteous ones To admonish the risk takers and mistake makers Yet they are of the least value to humanity They're the people who grade all your answers as incorrect Without providing their perfect alternatives While trying to erase the context Because of what the context has to say about society People feeling that they can never be emotionally vulnerable Until they experience sheer desperation And no dollar contract Can replace human contact Yet we give men so much money and power And ask them to feel fine in our cold shower Until we are soiled by their intention A nation committed to selling Stella Artois A nation full of Blanche DuBois Humanity folds in on itself When we attack with *** Humanity does itself a disservice By not trying to understand these attacks honestly We forsake forgiveness And embrace desperation Until we become unbearably desperate For attention For approval For ****** contact For money For validation And sometimes our desperate desires become tangled I'd like to think of that as love And not a meeting between two practical rapists That conjoin in the middle Yet somehow come out distorted on the other side

71

Did you forget all of me was inside you? I only used your holes for my spare parts At first-until each ounce I extracted Now, looking in the mirror asking-who? I think I lost myself inside of you I can't retrieve now that you've retracted You've broken me with your breach of contract I used to see color, now only blue. Love or life, I wonder which is the greater loss? Is ownership a prerequisite of grief? If so, my pain I am not entitled. Although relieved I am of albatross I'm now racked with curs'd thoughts of that thief Alone, sans my resource for survival.

0

Oct 3, 2017

Oct 3, 2017 at 1:10 PM UTC

liv_id

When love's gone, where does it go?

Did you forget all of me was inside you? I only used your holes for my spare parts At first-until each ounce I extracted Now, looking in the mirror asking-who? I think I lost myself inside of you I can't retrieve now that you've retracted You've broken me with your breach of contract I used to see color, now only blue. Love or life, I wonder which is the greater loss? Is ownership a prerequisite of grief? If so, my pain I am not entitled. Although relieved I am of albatross I'm now racked with curs'd thoughts of that thief Alone, sans my resource for survival.

14

Farewell Sickness You left me! Invaluable was the darkness cherished the beloved heart body, mind and half of my age all of it devoted to your love only and secretly You crowned me to your queen of darkness I grew up slowly in our palace where I could hide and Stay if I wanted to always with you Our home the holy eidolon … but a shelter for me as long as you were there There was where we honored shadows by becoming shadows The Black Mountain of your teaching was made of the absolute Color of our eternal love but Love You forgot one thing or didn't you know me well? Dedicated by desire I climbed that mountain Kept my promise To see the irrefutable To be the unconditional No You weren't there You haven't made it that far? or was your share to have me ebb There was Black as absolute as you said Stroke my face apart and I fell at once for another at an opposite end One I became with the luminous cilia of a man a plain man made of brightest light All of a sudden he came All of a sudden he left Seeing all of me was possessed That loss slowly turned me to a sheer pain covering my home with an opposite color of white I got petrified by an equal fever to your love and A battlefield were my heart lodging the war of the tantamount of identical charge repulsion of the supreme dematerialized matter cracked the eye and I died Colors of all wavelengths between black and white fill that deserted heart now Yet there is a new spirit sleeping inside Soon she will wake up and sing an ancient lullaby of life not remembering but with a knowing: *I am of dark and of light not necessarily of good or of bad whatever you make me I will be which matches to which by any color of absolute you’ll be bewitched but virtuous make a difference by your poetry let me be your one magic word until truth is met in heavens*

0

Feb 17, 2015

Feb 17, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC

dnalumuland

Noire et Blanche

Farewell Sickness You left me! Invaluable was the darkness cherished the beloved heart body, mind and half of my age all of it devoted to your love only and secretly You crowned me to your queen of darkness I grew up slowly in our palace where I could hide and Stay if I wanted to always with you Our home the holy eidolon … but a shelter for me as long as you were there There was where we honored shadows by becoming shadows The Black Mountain of your teaching was made of the absolute Color of our eternal love but Love You forgot one thing or didn't you know me well? Dedicated by desire I climbed that mountain Kept my promise To see the irrefutable To be the unconditional No You weren't there You haven't made it that far? or was your share to have me ebb There was Black as absolute as you said Stroke my face apart and I fell at once for another at an opposite end One I became with the luminous cilia of a man a plain man made of brightest light All of a sudden he came All of a sudden he left Seeing all of me was possessed That loss slowly turned me to a sheer pain covering my home with an opposite color of white I got petrified by an equal fever to your love and A battlefield were my heart lodging the war of the tantamount of identical charge repulsion of the supreme dematerialized matter cracked the eye and I died Colors of all wavelengths between black and white fill that deserted heart now Yet there is a new spirit sleeping inside Soon she will wake up and sing an ancient lullaby of life not remembering but with a knowing: *I am of dark and of light not necessarily of good or of bad whatever you make me I will be which matches to which by any color of absolute you’ll be bewitched but virtuous make a difference by your poetry let me be your one magic word until truth is met in heavens*

94

I expected the spaces left to shrink I thought my body'd forget your square shape I hoped my holed heart wouldn't be left agape Boldly naive, a baby dressed in pink I hate you for leaving me stuck to think You were the only one here not an ape I don't want to patch my canyon with tape But no choice I have, you left in a blink Now, it's my duty to bat my lashes First to mop the crystal geyser of tears Secondly, coquettishly-over to him Who he is matters not, only passion. Hotel? Motel? I'm sick of these affairs. Alone, I must remain-with him in Grimm.

0

Oct 3, 2017

Oct 3, 2017 at 1:12 PM UTC

liv_id

Whole/Hole

I expected the spaces left to shrink I thought my body'd forget your square shape I hoped my holed heart wouldn't be left agape Boldly naive, a baby dressed in pink I hate you for leaving me stuck to think You were the only one here not an ape I don't want to patch my canyon with tape But no choice I have, you left in a blink Now, it's my duty to bat my lashes First to mop the crystal geyser of tears Secondly, coquettishly-over to him Who he is matters not, only passion. Hotel? Motel? I'm sick of these affairs. Alone, I must remain-with him in Grimm.

14

I’m turning from Blanche DuBois into Chris Benoit taking a streetcar named Desire to Monday Night Raw after the oppression of the law got stuck in my craw because the discretion of the flawed became the voice of God. I’d always relied on the kindness of strangers only to find the Million Dollar Man’s danger directing the Army Rangers to Jesus’ manger letting the Undertaker deal with the remainder. I relinquished my rightful place to the bank’s Crippler Crossface taking everything until I lost grace going into a holocaust craze. I’m upset about the places I can’t go because I’ll be ***** by Marlon Brando when I ask the referee for a hand though he just responds with a ****** no. I have retired my display of Vivian Leigh now Whatever by Our Lady Peace plays as the Rabid Wolverine walks to the stage to fight the Big Boss Man in a cage. I gave up teaching class to my sister to fight an *** who’s a mister whose slaps can blister so he blasts this spinster. The law is a tougher opponent than Eddie Guerrero so I apply my aptitude into becoming a pistolero after getting jabbed by my French Quarter pharaohs I can feel resistance down in my Marc Mero. I start to take steroids because there are boys whose terror noise impairs my poise. I go all out performing flying headbutts fighting until I see the dead’s guts exterminating enemies like bed bugs but then I start to dread hugs. Now I assume a stranger’s spite so I can immediately fight I’m swallowed by night wearing these tights. In my rage I **** my wife and son now my anger is no longer fun even if it came from their gun it’s me who’s the loneliest one. I changed from a lady to a wrestler losing my ****** mind fighting Mankind while stepping on landmines until I can’t find any grand signs and I’m anger defined.

0

Jun 2, 2020

Jun 2, 2020 at 5:20 AM UTC

andrew-rueter

From Blanche DuBois into Chris Benoit

I’m turning from Blanche DuBois into Chris Benoit taking a streetcar named Desire to Monday Night Raw after the oppression of the law got stuck in my craw because the discretion of the flawed became the voice of God. I’d always relied on the kindness of strangers only to find the Million Dollar Man’s danger directing the Army Rangers to Jesus’ manger letting the Undertaker deal with the remainder. I relinquished my rightful place to the bank’s Crippler Crossface taking everything until I lost grace going into a holocaust craze. I’m upset about the places I can’t go because I’ll be ***** by Marlon Brando when I ask the referee for a hand though he just responds with a ****** no. I have retired my display of Vivian Leigh now Whatever by Our Lady Peace plays as the Rabid Wolverine walks to the stage to fight the Big Boss Man in a cage. I gave up teaching class to my sister to fight an *** who’s a mister whose slaps can blister so he blasts this spinster. The law is a tougher opponent than Eddie Guerrero so I apply my aptitude into becoming a pistolero after getting jabbed by my French Quarter pharaohs I can feel resistance down in my Marc Mero. I start to take steroids because there are boys whose terror noise impairs my poise. I go all out performing flying headbutts fighting until I see the dead’s guts exterminating enemies like bed bugs but then I start to dread hugs. Now I assume a stranger’s spite so I can immediately fight I’m swallowed by night wearing these tights. In my rage I **** my wife and son now my anger is no longer fun even if it came from their gun it’s me who’s the loneliest one. I changed from a lady to a wrestler losing my ****** mind fighting Mankind while stepping on landmines until I can’t find any grand signs and I’m anger defined.

48

i was young... well, younger than now---- it was when it first struck me it struck me hard. it struck me like reality... but more like reality when reality comes in the face of your family all in chains... then, reality looks like dreams altogether; no not fantasy---- not exactly a nightmare either more like ----ecstasy----- "you are a special weapon" "something of great potential" "and massive power" "but you only have one shot" mom always used to say. i even once thought she stashed some kind of deathray or sting ray or something in my arm---- ----it won't be the first thing she stuffed in me anyway... i was eight years old when she finally continued the sentence. before total silence. "make it count." "cause whether you hit" "or even if you miss..." "you would be broken" "shattered-----" "torn to pieces-----" "torn apart." "so please" "don't" "break" "yourself" "shooting" "for" "nothing." she never taught me how to use the weapon myself----- she just fragmented in tears before splintering tearing to shards herself it took me til 15 that i was afraid to yet touch even stare even think nothing. i never knew what i was capable of i never knew how to control to even activate all i knew was that i was powerful i don't know what of but i have to save it keep it live it nurture it store it amass it seep it savor it understand it study it feel it polish it train it let it breathe let it sing i could hear it sing i could feel it whisper----- and i was so afraid... all i saw of my mother was that she was in pieces long before i knew her. shambles and shackles and i don't want to be that when i fire---- it wasn't supposed to strike me but it did, and it struck me hard reality i was 16 when i first made the discovery ----love----- all at once and much, much too completely---- all off guard. it was like you suddenly turned a blinding light on something that had always been half a shadow that's how it struck me... that's how it shattered me... it's like a full flashback of my mother saying 'i told you so' except she never did. and it struck me. like i hit the right target at the wrong time or the opposite of it but truth is i just hit a poltergeist way too soon and it wasn't like it was the wind that was hit---- that's how it struck me, love and that's how it tore me apart. ----fragmented---- and it did not take me long to realise what glass cannons we were... all my life i never tried to activate my strength and when i did it imploded. it was a long time... and i was blinded---- it wasn't the hit nor was it the miss that tore me apart it was love that broke me because shattered pieces are not all that bad splinters... shards... fragments... blades... one shot was all it took to break my heart and so suddenly... every part of me... was a weapon everyone who held me hurt bled cried pained burned wailed enraged agonized they turned to anger then turned to hate they turned to each other pretty soon turning to waste it was then that it struck me what a glass cannon is---- and it was until now that i was eluded... for that long a time i thought shards were all love could offer... fragments were all romance could be i met your father your father your father your father and your father all through different shards until i saw what i had all in shambles and all in shackles just like my mother that's when it struck me ---ecstasy--- cause looking into your eyes my children i love you as a whole not like with your fathers or like with the guys before them or like the guys before the other guys i wanted more than ever to love you more than a few shards all tainted with blood or with anger or with both---- that's when it hit me and it hit me with so much pain... what my mother really should have said. being a glass cannon doesn't mean being a weapon to hurt others----- it means one day, no one knows when, but it will surely come like a thief in the night... love and you will give your all even if it shatters you to pieces and even if you are already in pieces because you know love can make you again whole.

0

May 6, 2018

May 6, 2018 at 11:30 AM UTC

fake_ian--G1100

Glass Cannon

i was young... well, younger than now---- it was when it first struck me it struck me hard. it struck me like reality... but more like reality when reality comes in the face of your family all in chains... then, reality looks like dreams altogether; no not fantasy---- not exactly a nightmare either more like ----ecstasy----- "you are a special weapon" "something of great potential" "and massive power" "but you only have one shot" mom always used to say. i even once thought she stashed some kind of deathray or sting ray or something in my arm---- ----it won't be the first thing she stuffed in me anyway... i was eight years old when she finally continued the sentence. before total silence. "make it count." "cause whether you hit" "or even if you miss..." "you would be broken" "shattered-----" "torn to pieces-----" "torn apart." "so please" "don't" "break" "yourself" "shooting" "for" "nothing." she never taught me how to use the weapon myself----- she just fragmented in tears before splintering tearing to shards herself it took me til 15 that i was afraid to yet touch even stare even think nothing. i never knew what i was capable of i never knew how to control to even activate all i knew was that i was powerful i don't know what of but i have to save it keep it live it nurture it store it amass it seep it savor it understand it study it feel it polish it train it let it breathe let it sing i could hear it sing i could feel it whisper----- and i was so afraid... all i saw of my mother was that she was in pieces long before i knew her. shambles and shackles and i don't want to be that when i fire---- it wasn't supposed to strike me but it did, and it struck me hard reality i was 16 when i first made the discovery ----love----- all at once and much, much too completely---- all off guard. it was like you suddenly turned a blinding light on something that had always been half a shadow that's how it struck me... that's how it shattered me... it's like a full flashback of my mother saying 'i told you so' except she never did. and it struck me. like i hit the right target at the wrong time or the opposite of it but truth is i just hit a poltergeist way too soon and it wasn't like it was the wind that was hit---- that's how it struck me, love and that's how it tore me apart. ----fragmented---- and it did not take me long to realise what glass cannons we were... all my life i never tried to activate my strength and when i did it imploded. it was a long time... and i was blinded---- it wasn't the hit nor was it the miss that tore me apart it was love that broke me because shattered pieces are not all that bad splinters... shards... fragments... blades... one shot was all it took to break my heart and so suddenly... every part of me... was a weapon everyone who held me hurt bled cried pained burned wailed enraged agonized they turned to anger then turned to hate they turned to each other pretty soon turning to waste it was then that it struck me what a glass cannon is---- and it was until now that i was eluded... for that long a time i thought shards were all love could offer... fragments were all romance could be i met your father your father your father your father and your father all through different shards until i saw what i had all in shambles and all in shackles just like my mother that's when it struck me ---ecstasy--- cause looking into your eyes my children i love you as a whole not like with your fathers or like with the guys before them or like the guys before the other guys i wanted more than ever to love you more than a few shards all tainted with blood or with anger or with both---- that's when it hit me and it hit me with so much pain... what my mother really should have said. being a glass cannon doesn't mean being a weapon to hurt others----- it means one day, no one knows when, but it will surely come like a thief in the night... love and you will give your all even if it shatters you to pieces and even if you are already in pieces because you know love can make you again whole.

205