#rut
Can't see the forest for the trees
Blinded by specificity
Laser sight for **** I don't need
Lending from my sanity
On cranium spending sprees
For all things that should not be
Store them all so perfectly
Like they're treasured figurines
A preserved psyche crazy hard to free
Carbonite Han Solo in deep freeze
No Leia to barter for release
Huttese wont work, no trip to Tatooine
Vader breathing disturbs my sleep
Palpatine "do it" on repeat
My Empire Strikes Back with relative ease
To quash anything that provides relief
Cos I'm not okay, but I am
Film flam tryna find who I am
Hell in a disenchanted dance
All my chemicals romance
Distorting where I began
Never quit, my only plan
Exhausted but here I stand
Hoping soon I'll understand
Why I feel so ****** repeatedly
'Cause red is the new black speaks to me
A funeral for a friend harming me
Bring a celebrant for my old psyche
Now bend my arms to look like wings
So I can fly free from that part of me
'Cause I buried it deep so purposely
It can stay stuck there for eternity
Jul 4, 2023
Jul 4, 2023 at 5:05 AM UTC
I’m stuck in a rut
unable to escape
Full of shallow words
with no rhyme or rhythm
lacking structure
scratching the surface
with no hope of redemption
My words carelessly strewn
leave nothing to the imagination
as deep as a gutter
as full as a strainer
as meaningful as my life
will i ever get out
May 5, 2021
May 5, 2021 at 12:03 AM UTC
Inside me is
a quiet murmur
a steady mental rut
an unceasing
pain...
Continuously permeating
filling empty cavities
with tension,
worry
anxiety
This is a vague description
of this qualia:
my consciousness
in the present
Jul 16, 2020
Jul 16, 2020 at 2:08 AM UTC
Woke before the dawn
Think back to when we first met
Get ready then we part
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 11:38 PM UTC
Pour faire sourire ma muse
Malgré elle je fais le pitre :
Je me fais animal en extinction
Tamarin lion de jour
Et Ara cobalt de nuit
Et je fais constamment la mue
Entre Anodorhynchus leari
Et Leontopithecus rosalia
Et à force de mues
Je perds le Nord
Je me pends par la queue
Aux branches de mon nid
Je fais des grimaces
et je lèche le bec des femelles
En rut.
Mais ma muse raffole
Non pas de ma race folle
De tamarin-ara métis
Mais des gorilles, bonobos et magots
Et autre faune libertine...
Elle adore !
Elle est admirative !
J'ai beau lui sortir ma généalogie ascendante de mandrill
Mes trois seizièmes de sang bonobo,
Mes trois seizièmes de gènes de gorille,
Mes trois seizièmes d'âme de macaque de barbarie
Et mon blason d'argent à quatre fasces de gueules
Ma muse n'en a cure.
Elle n 'a d'yeux que pour ces bonobos,
Gorilles et magots légitimes
D'authentique Afrique mythique.
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 2:04 AM UTC
Not dying here
so have no fear
my mind has filled with rust
shed no tears
have a beer
my poetry, a bust
I'm free and clear
far and near
words turn unto dust
poems may appear
as cavalier
I've just got to
re-adjust
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 12:12 PM UTC
When the sun is low
and the breeze has gone
We will meet again
to sing our last refrain
Oh the never ending cold
you must have grown so old
But now the breeze has gone
and, too, the sun is low
Wrap around my sheets of wind
Set alight the self within
Strike out on my endless skin
I'll still be here when you rescind
Have you now sailed your fill
And tasted salt again?
Now the breeze has failed against my will
So I sing the last refrain
Shelter from my sheets of wind
Stow away the self within
Whisper now to spite the storm
Poison me forever more
Play a game you cannot win
I'll be here when you begin
Make a life that's warm and dry
Never stop to wonder why
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 1:52 PM UTC
And It's true, I was on you
For a week or maybe two
In your arms, you know that's all
In your love, I couldn't fall
This shouldn't be a maze
To take the wrong left
And that is the past
Baby, that's the past
Everything was great
While we made it last
I still eat your go-to snack
And I still like that band
I'm still writing songs
That sound less than grand
Though I promise that I'm
Gonna hold this one out
My heart and my mind
Needed to leave the crowd
I've got jet black jeans
For a brand new waist
If everything still fit
I would never change
While I loved your company
My heart beats on my sleeve
And you know it's not there
You are not the one for me
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 10:50 PM UTC
I was gonna limerick
yes, this I know
overdone, overrun
dead at the show
So I did this instead
yes, it's not great
ugly, misshapen
I'm sure you'll relate
Sometimes the words
come on out of my head
the form and the fixture
in rhythm are wed
A malady pained
we all have our cross
indelibly stained
and poetry lost
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 8:36 AM UTC
On that day my soul grew drunk
The cooked curiosity craving
The passion never slaving
I crave the ****** sick spirit
Instead I uncovered the affinity
The vehemence smiled
What could there be more purely piled?
I crave the temptress, thirsty thing
Suddenly, I heard some feeling
My ambition, I could not awaken
While I pondered, bibulous and forsaken
I crave the tippling, touched target
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 10:49 AM UTC
daytime rhythms
of coming and
going
a-swish
a-yawn
a-slam
a-trudge
out the door
in the car
to the place
there
twiddled thumbs
swivelled chairs
barked-up trees
and morning teas
and banter
hands
on knees
and eyes to
clock
and this meeting
here
and that duty
there
tick tock
a-flow through
time and space
and light
as the
sun turns over
in its sky
and rests its
head down on
the other side
then
out the door
in the car
to the place
for something quick
to have for dinner
then
home
© 2017 Adelaide Heathfield
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 2:02 PM UTC
I'm impatient.
And restless.
Something good should have happened.
I can't predict tomorrow,
So I hate today.
Yesterday hurt.
Along with the day before that.
I'm not haunted, or dramatically morose.
But I'm waiting.
Every day.
And every day feels the same.
The faces and scenarios are different.
Maybe these memories will
Seem important or joyful
In 7 years.
Right now I don't feel them though.
Changes don't rock me.
I'm not afraid of happiness or pain,
Just the same.
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 11:16 PM UTC
The same routine
I sit and scheme
My words will set me free.
I have my mind
I have my pen so nothing can silence me.
Words are drawn on the page created one by one.
They tell the story of a broken man.
On a search for something different, something new.
Day in and day out the same routine at hand.
It's time for him to grow up
It's time to be a man.
Change is part of life and that's just how it goes.
But when life doesn't change at all that's when he begins to question it all.
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 10:16 AM UTC
I am in a rut
an awful rut that I don’t know how to get out of
I find myself reaching for different things to bring me comfort
I’m not even for sure what I need
what I’m searching for
It’s like I have gone numb
It’s like I’m stuck in this current emotion and can’t get out
I’m bored yet content but sad yet feeling okay
I have felt on the verge of tears for the past few days and I don’t know why
I don’t know what my body is waiting for
It’s like I’m waiting for something to break me
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 5:08 PM UTC
When shall I get out of this rut?
Counting down the hours until I can go
Only five and a half now, but
I'll be back next weekend, I know.
And only thirty dollar bills a day, for what?
To get hit and kicked and yelled at
I'd rather get payed for selling my body like a ****
Or maybe I'll be a professional eater and become professionally fat.
Pure disgust is all I have to say
Until next time, dreadful day.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 12:53 PM UTC
how long must i
drag my bones
across these
lukewarm
monotonous
coals,
i wondered
as i loaded
the dryer
with white
clothes
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 4:42 AM UTC
7 cups of coffee, never been so tired.
7 hours 'til the weekend
I'm a garbage human.
Crawling on my belly through the ******* bars.
Kick a couple empty cups and join the trashcan stars.
Monday morning, can't believe still at a job like this,
I'm a ******* nematode behind a ******* desk.
Got a mouth full of fangs and a vinegar gut
Got my hands tied up
got an empty wallet.
Empty out my guts on the concrete night,
pour the contents of my chest on the headache morning.
Chisel clear sight out of my crusted eyes
just in time to read a bright orange low fuel warning.
**** these stupid weekends and this ******* space.
**** my empty-heart excuses and my dishpit face.
Clean the plate and wipe the slate clean.
Leave this place.
Maybe try and settle down.
One more cup of coffee.
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 11:34 AM UTC
The nuts
and the bolts
of your automatic habits
programmed scowls and slowing reflexes
keep you
matching wits with no one
every night.
And you keep
slipping
back into your 6-month rut
with your cold sneer,
hands in pockets,
your shrinking bank account
and swelling gut...
The Mountain Lines meander,
you're just killing time and brain cells.
Ashy days are tasting bland.
Bus routes circle back on themselves
like your footsteps every ******* night,
this town will raise its hand,
you'll retreat into familiar flight.
Cringe
'cuz it's so easy.
Cringe
at what you have become.
Come back on your loop repeating.
Potential's mocked.
You're numb and deaf and dumb.
And you've never surrendered.
But that's not the same as winning.
Pinning hopes on snapping out
of it and sleeping hearts on sleeves.
Heavy footsteps every ******* night,
a walking metronome
passing cross-streets just to pass the time.
Your dull,
aching eyes
that you peer through every sunset--
programmed scowls squinting through preset acts--
keep your
dulling wits all silent
every night.
And you'll keep
walking through days like turnstile gates
and send each night on down the line.
Send each night on down the line.
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 2:32 PM UTC
whisper upon whisper,
grain upon grain.
they pile up, until there is no space to breathe
not a pocket of air,
only the damp black.
hot. humid. cramping and stamping
extinguishing.
and then.
it crushes,
you're trapped like a bee on a wing
life has you now.
in its hold
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 11:58 PM UTC
I can never write poetry when I'm happy
what does that say about my personality?
why do words evade me when I long to share
my feelings of positivity?
I don't want to only be known for my works
on tragedy
I am not always sad and lonely
I smile and laugh
and enjoy what life gives me
and yet I can never convert that joy into poetry
here I am, destined it seems, to always be a tragedy
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 3:57 PM UTC
---
the glowing iron wheel
had made its way
across the sky
crushing
everything
in its
path
i sit doubled over
my forehead
in rivulets
from the
furnaces
its passage
had stoked
clouds like
dusty dirt ruts
curving into
saguaro spiked
hills
to the west
crescent moon
a faint slice
like a
glowing
cattlebrand
the cicadas
still whirr
on
and
on
and
on
7 PM
and it is
still
98 degrees
and the
ghosts of
cowpokes
who
died the trails
still ride
their bony ponies
on their endless
road
into
the
sun
soulsurvivor
(C) 8/17/2015
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC
You linger like yesterdays coffee
Staining the table
My breath and teeth
Leaking over onto my white shirt
Ruining it
For bleach isn't strong enough
Tide falls short
That faded white shirt
Stained
And despite the distortion
I still wear you to bed.
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 3:24 AM UTC
lay back and relax
go along with what the stream
will give me
sometimes fast
sometimes slow
a snag or two
to keep me grounded
watch the dappled shadows
the canopy of leaves
through closed eyes
perfect state of being
water drips with weird sound
wakes me from my splendor
turn my head
come face to face
with rutting buck
that snorts across my mug
the startled deer
has startled me
just glad to keep it upright
stag turns and runs
quiet restored
left with vision of his eyes
and the quickly narrowed pupils
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
Why are these dreams broken?
when all these words are left unspoken.
Uncertainty killing those who care inside.
They are left to rot, left to die.
Why are their faces filled with sorrow?
They see no light, no tomorrow.
They beg and they plea.
Only to see cruelty.
Why do the stars fade from our eyes?
Is it because we are slowly dying inside.
Why are you sad, why can't you breath?
You are drowning in sorrow, please don't leave.
Why are we abandoned and left to rot.
Never to leave stuck in this spot?
Why do our nightmares overcome our dreams?
Because can't you see.
These dreams are broken, they are left unspoken, by me.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 4:22 AM UTC
Computer screens
glow ghostly pale
in darkness meant
For slumber
eyes taped open
glued in place
searching for nothing
needing a taste
or a piece
or a thread of a life
that eludes you
as you become a statue
perched in place
losing sleep
minutes run to days
hours to weeks
still you try
looking up but not out
sitting in silence
inside you shout
unnoticed, forgotten
remembered unseen
a shadow in the corner
of what might have been
wasted alone
wasting away
going going going GONE
no reason to stay
in a place with poison air
no one around
you're the only one there
pros and cons in lists unmade
and dreams get stranger
and wrought with danger
the closer and closer
you get to change
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC