#edit
I actually wrote 2 versions of this poem, if you care to read the original draft, here it is:
This small black rock jutting out of the ocean. Step back in time and slow down the clock. Forget about life for a while and watch the fisherman on boats flowing over an ocean of turquoise. Watch the tide pull seaweed and birds battle the wind, high up on the cliffs there’s a cave full of secrets. From mountain peaks flirting with clouds, to the trill little song of the warbling skylark - soot coloured ravens the spirits of old, what a breathtaking place this is to behold.
Apr 7
Apr 7, 2026 at 6:15 PM UTC
I once had a monstera
Who thrived in my tears
And melted mascara
We loved to share fears
She's sunburnt easily
So I'm happy to wallow
Simply ceaselessly
Since laughter is too bright
Content with shared misery
I keep curtains drawn tight
To keep her close by
Now I have your cactus
And I love it so much
I do what I've practiced
Gentle with my touch
I water it with my tears
I share all my fears
You've left me with this plant
So I can't let it die
I love it so much
So I cry and cry and cry
But something strange happens
Making my salt falter
The leaves shrivel and wrinkle
Maybe it needs more water
I scream as I cry
Because it keeps wilting
I love it I love it I love it
Maybe it needs more water
I'm so scared to lose this
To lose what's left of you
So nurture it in my way
It hasn't seen the sun in days
Why is my cactus dying?
Maybe I am just not trying
Hard enough to water it
The dam of my sorrows pours free
I'm flooding my favorite plant
Why is it dying?
I mix my tears with paint
It will accept my love if it's beautiful
I mix my tears with blood
It will accept my love if it's pitiful
I mix my tears with sugar
It will accept my love if it's sweet
I pour and pour and pour
And love and love and love
And cry and cry and cry
Please, I'm begging, just don't die
My tears fall into empty hands
A carcass sits in the window
Longing for desert sands
I realize too late
The sun is what it craves
Its roots filled with rot
Left too long in a soaked ***
The sun warms a plant long gone
I tried too hard. I tried too wrong
Neck aching, head bowed
My cactus can't love me now
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 3:54 PM UTC
I wept when I saw
Our blue kayak mounted high
on a coffee shop wall
The blue kayak we didn't buy
Is now mounted in a coffee shop
Offering a different escape
We never did buy the blue kayak
Or take that river trip
It's now mounted in a coffee shop
As if it was art
For a different kind of escape.
Jan 15
Jan 15, 2026 at 1:21 PM UTC
Some claim I’m rather edgy
They look up to my serenity
Idealise my brain capacity -
I’m often told I’m pretty
And I won’t make a scene,
disproportionally adjust to your screen
ask about you despite me,
I’ll hug you without editing
Oddly lonely for the time being.
See you in another film -
Your eyes intimidate me
You don’t seem to need any
The script's too good for me.
Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 7:40 PM UTC
For a peace of mind
Edit life, ruthlessly
Not tomorrow
All today
Pay attention
If it's right
It will propagate
Jan 24, 2021
Jan 24, 2021 at 7:23 PM UTC
in that stillness moment i, questioning
why people stare through (and stare within, staring through)
that fuzz or mush like their covered window panes (staring within, staring through)
that shy window pane that turns
eeyoyvrbd e r o e b y v y d e e y y o d b r v
so that i (staring in, staring at) may roam in
eybdoryoyebordyoevydebdbeyodebedyobyobye
turning my mind to that fuzz and static, becoming fogged window pane
to look out (and stare) like rain droplets caressing
so rough they fall to pound that pavement
pavement so coarse and electric like the peppered mountain range
where i stand
my shoes fill like leaking boats
to roam, to wander, in that desolate diorite range (staring within)
questioning (staring through) as time joining
disappearing
as headache turns everybody to everything turns
eybd oryoy ebordyoev ydeb dbeyodebe dyobyobye
ebdoybeod ebdoeboy debot vverbdyodv verdbey odbver vebsrobe ybddoeb
Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 9:27 PM UTC
It's easy to write,
Difficult to edit.
Especially When the tale is mine.
Jun 24, 2019
Jun 24, 2019 at 2:31 PM UTC
Down to the end of a wooden dock
That sticks out a good way into the water,
She sat legs crisscrossed in a knot, hunched over
With her elbows to her knees, head resting
In her palms. She tries controlling her breathing,
But holding her breath makes her throat expand
Like it is croaking. Saliva pools in the lower corners
Of her mouth under her tongue, and she barely has time
To adjust herself as the bile climbs out of her throat
And down the front of her yellow crop top, dripping
Onto her stomach and crossed legs. Tears are forced
From her ducts as her stomach convulses. Capillaries
Around her eyes are popping from strain. Feeling weak,
She falls to the left on her side and curls into a trembling ball
But she wants to get the ***** off her
As soon as possible. Her shaking palms
Press against the splintering deck, pushing
To her knees to feel what was once in her stomach squish
Between her fingers making her stomach spasm;
She scrambles to her feet as fast as she can
When her only source of lighting is dying
From the wind. Before righting her balance, she slips
Backwards in the bile and tumbles into the blackened lake. Her head
Plunges first and water came rushing into her nose. It burns
Her nasal cavities as her eyes tear open in fear. She’s disoriented
From the alcohol in her system and the water is too strong
Against her weakened limbs. She tries to position herself
Up right, but the more she moves, the deeper she sinks.
She holds her breath and tries
To ignore the burning sensation up her nose and on
The surface of her eyes in her head and she can’t
Hold on. Oxygen isn’t going where it needs to and the edges
Of her vision darken. As a last attempt to fight, she reaches
Forward to grasp at anything she can get ahold of. Her fingertips
Stretch and curl only to move through the murky prison. Her vision
Is almost completely blackened out as she surrenders
Her losing fight. There’s a burn in her chest that grows
As the rhythm behind it slows. Her body,
Like the water, is still, cold, and tinted blue.
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 12:05 AM UTC
Greetings, it is merely I,
He who breathes despite the lack of air,
Gasping at a tenuous breeze.
I'd call this breath of redundant utterings,
A practice of utter futility.
The breadth of my wonderment at the crushing silence graced upon my deafened ears,
I stand fast as the verbal stone is cast upon my fragile being,
Your callousness resounds within my vacancy,
Occupied by none other,
Confined within my ceaseless selflessness,
Even if it is imperfect.
I am merely a soul.
Cast 'pon the mercifully unforgiving earth.
Borne brazenly to those who are willing to listen,
At the risk of those who won't.
Thrust'd herein I lye,
Gazing 'pon the relentless monochrome.
Searching for any guiding light.
I am merely a man,
Searching for a home.
I am merely the mind within which I reside,
I am,
Merely,
Who I am.
~Robert van Lingen
Apr 24, 2019
Apr 24, 2019 at 7:54 AM UTC
We are all dictionaries;
Collections of words,
Defined by our commonality,
Refined by our uniqueness.
We edit and omit,
Abbreviate and compound,
Expanding our vocabulary,
In the hope of rewriting our yesterdays
Into a best-selling tomorrow.
Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 12:39 AM UTC
And so I drank her.
A high ball glass of seduction
Shaken with whiskey lips
Wide hips
Sugar rim
Sin and forgiveness.
I drank her blind
And ordered another.
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 5:29 PM UTC
There is no grander way my spirit of dissolution is lined with angel's teeth hands exploring,
indulging themselves bulwark of a new day's dream rigid of eye,
Colliding with mutinies as in the mechanical cavorting of creatures marching,
Past albatrosses appearing and hindering caffeine messengers from the ether,
Somewhere if not here aborted holding hands with disdain there are many ways to be anything.
words exchanged with impossibility are untied threads piling up until there is time spare to sketch them with morning breath,
preoccupation grandstanding efforts minds broken **** coloured dawn of convenience rigid and timebound,
all must inhale the earth smoothly
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 11:42 AM UTC
Don't impose
your editorial skills
on my story
unless you
want to add
yourself
to my
chapters
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 4:42 AM UTC
redskin, cheekbones, upturned eyes
you call me names, pick apart my features
there's much for you to analyze
none of it good enough
even as you slit my belly and take my skin
you think me rough
wearing me like a hood you become
Pocahontas, Matoaka, Indian Princess
you think the thrum of your blood is the sound of a drum
you consume me, trick yourself
Redskin Princess
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 3:10 PM UTC
Photographs enable us to forget but force us to remember.
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 4:32 PM UTC
Que mañana lluevan rosas,
que te bese un ángel en el pecho
y no se me pase el tiempo,
que me alimente tu recuerdo,
y que sepas
que aún te pienso....
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 2:37 AM UTC
if
you'd
like
to
Change
me
Then
double
click
to
Edit
my
thoughts
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 11:43 PM UTC
Take a picture. Snap! Now show the world where you have been
That brilliant destination and all of the sights that you have seen
Be it Morocco and onto Timbuctoo, not a thing ever went wrong
The lies that we can tell whilst singing a different song
We live the perfect life as seen by the planet and its friends
Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, instantly removed in a millisecond
For what they can see is fake and often ******
A quick brush up, a digitized wipe and Instagram is oh so worthy
A story to tell your friends of that fantastic night out
Not to mention that later on the bouncer kicked you all out
Delete that girl in the background that you pulled after that shot
The town bike to all who know, never going back to that spot
For social media will always tell a different story
Best looking people in the frame, a night of unreal glory
Waking up with an STD, let’s keep that well away
Some **** at the bar not smooth and slick, forget the box of Milk Tray
For this never happened looking down at your feet
Hers or his, whoevers bed it is
Hence,
Edited
JJB
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 4:18 PM UTC
portals,
boundaries,
encased snapshots,
an edit.
a consumable fragment,
a glimpse,
palatable.
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 7:02 AM UTC
Filtered faces
Staged selfies
Eating oysters
Look at my new watch, sneakers this and that
Look at the places I visit
Look at my perfect life
No colours are too bright
Edited to perfection
Cropped out the background
Hide the mess If they don’t see it then it doesn’t exist
This is my wonderful wife, life, pooch and house
If I didn’t stage that selfie then this is all of what you would see
the dog that won’t stop barking,
the house that needs cleaned and possibly refurbished,
the wife scrambling at the debt letters on the kitchen counter wondering why the money don’t cover it
The life you wish to filter and draw a line under with the caption “perfect life”
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 10:54 AM UTC
Feel it
Plan it,
Rethink,
Ink it
Read it,
Edit,
Connect it,
Then beautify
Love it
Save it
Release free
With the magic of your words.
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 9:21 PM UTC
If you don't like whats being said
don't listen
If you don't like what you see
don't look
If you're easily ass-hurt, over stupid
apply some sort of ointment
If you want to edit history
tear down statues, and appointments
If you want to censor art, and rights
be a politician
If you want to throw rocks and stones
you're better off, in prison
If you want to keep people down
join or goto church
If you want to tell me what to do
Keep
It
To
Your
Loathsome
Self,
And
Shove
It
Up
Your
***
Until
It Hurts....
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 10:32 AM UTC
Hold it in
cut clean the vitals
How I see a simple procedure going wrong is the anxiety of the believer. The Optimist that fears the pessimistic balance. True lovers of the art.
Exhale
sedation equals Meditation
Minds wander when watching the reflection of ever moving sound and light through the world of water.
Sip the air in
Release the third eyes tears
A figure of speech. Or a meaning that only the experienced can speak for? But nothing is trivial in the pursuit and may it suit you so.
DOnot BlinK
Digging holes to sleep in
There is a goal of destruction. Caused either by thy self or the weight out on thy self by others. However this weight becomes lighter as I become stronger in bearing it. Should it ever be cast off I fear I would not exist.
Let the music in
Silhouettes are my truth
But now the doubt has been raised... The Cave men will now question their Gods. The banished becomes a Martyr of everyones self doubt.
Meet the eyes of your maker
Blind, Deft, Paralyzed
You can find them. I have them. Everyone and almost everything does. look deep, drink the knowledge and use it to cure. Become the knife to the weave of time and free our paths.
Become a monster
when getting hijacked in your car, drive into a large object fast, all the while stare at aggressor silently
A Monster is a matter of opinion. But I digress that it should be questioned whether or not humans can be monsters and no longer humans. To add someone who becomes a monster may never have the chance to become human. The odds are stacked against humans.
laugh in our beds for our sins
Hard Rock Balled
I don't mind good and evil. I don't much care for what they are. Experiencing them I care about.
Time fractals across the Insomniac Ramblers body
Criticize, Critique, Commit
Dream for others. Imagine the unknown. Believe in oneself.
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 2:37 AM UTC