"acetate" poems - Hello Poetry

They're huddled 'round their periodic lunch tables, square and socially pyramidal, and I'm at the bottom. But they're just fluorine factions, bullies at heart trying to steal my e-lectricity with their negativity. Because I'm light, Ultra-violet violence to the eyes, Magnesium burning. Anti-matter meets matter. And that catalytic, cataclysmic energy is attractive. And they see me. They see, see, see, But I've got too many Cs on this side of my false, metallic personality. I'd better balance myself Or I'm not getting a good reaction. Classic ionic, ironic idiocy. I've bonded with you, just compounding the issues. 'Cause you're a complete acetate without a solution: now all I've got are problems. Dot Diagrams are dotted lines separating you from me, because over the years what was a bond became a partially negative charge against me. I was your oxygen, and you were carbon -ated, bubbly and explosive. We would Combust. But now all's left but to see, oh, two of your new girlfriends flanking your sides, 'cause we've decomposed, split, gone off to better things. Monatomic monotones lace my speech, and I'm pining for something to complete this emp-d shell that is myself. 'Cause I miss what we had. We had chemistry.

0

Mar 9, 2013

Mar 9, 2013 at 5:52 PM UTC

liz-mclaughlin

Chemistry

They're huddled 'round their periodic lunch tables, square and socially pyramidal, and I'm at the bottom. But they're just fluorine factions, bullies at heart trying to steal my e-lectricity with their negativity. Because I'm light, Ultra-violet violence to the eyes, Magnesium burning. Anti-matter meets matter. And that catalytic, cataclysmic energy is attractive. And they see me. They see, see, see, But I've got too many Cs on this side of my false, metallic personality. I'd better balance myself Or I'm not getting a good reaction. Classic ionic, ironic idiocy. I've bonded with you, just compounding the issues. 'Cause you're a complete acetate without a solution: now all I've got are problems. Dot Diagrams are dotted lines separating you from me, because over the years what was a bond became a partially negative charge against me. I was your oxygen, and you were carbon -ated, bubbly and explosive. We would Combust. But now all's left but to see, oh, two of your new girlfriends flanking your sides, 'cause we've decomposed, split, gone off to better things. Monatomic monotones lace my speech, and I'm pining for something to complete this emp-d shell that is myself. 'Cause I miss what we had. We had chemistry.

35

I’m talking to you in my head been cultivating this shyness since I was three years old talking to inanimate objects painted smiles, rubber-skinned metal frames turning wheels the family minivan kept me company as mountains rose and fell like held breaths let go. playing games with pregnant raindrops rolling down the glass obsessed with the shark’s fin triangle the wipers could not reach. I’m obsessing over seeing you. always trying to be invisible your eyes beginning to skim past I, they didn’t used too. *“The voices that once spoke love but did not mean love.”* the withered rose living in the trash, abandoned friends in the attic forgotten songs unfinished books I am the forgotten I am the abandoned I am the left behind cobweb-and-cotton-dust-collector the silence connoisseur I wear loneliness like an unwashed favorite shirt If I die Will you read this? Does anyone else think such things or is Tonio Kroger my only brother? I am Kafka’s cockroach, everyone is waiting for me to die or to change into what you want me to be. my name will not be in the history books by the time my children’s children will have children I am no one. Everything fades in this world like whiteboard-marker on acetate lives. Desolate corners and garbage tell stories art is vandalism, vandalism is art. and people wear diamonds but they are worth nothing. and babies inherit their father’s eyes. I am not yours. You are not mine. Isn’t ownership objectification? If a man owns a clock does the clock own the man? Let’s be money and greed or greed and suffering. one cannot survive without… Let’s be the mismatched pyramids of wealth and population form a parallelogram like bricks on an unstable wall never falling down.

0

Apr 15, 2012

Apr 15, 2012 at 7:46 AM UTC

fuckyoupo

parallelogram

I’m talking to you in my head been cultivating this shyness since I was three years old talking to inanimate objects painted smiles, rubber-skinned metal frames turning wheels the family minivan kept me company as mountains rose and fell like held breaths let go. playing games with pregnant raindrops rolling down the glass obsessed with the shark’s fin triangle the wipers could not reach. I’m obsessing over seeing you. always trying to be invisible your eyes beginning to skim past I, they didn’t used too. *“The voices that once spoke love but did not mean love.”* the withered rose living in the trash, abandoned friends in the attic forgotten songs unfinished books I am the forgotten I am the abandoned I am the left behind cobweb-and-cotton-dust-collector the silence connoisseur I wear loneliness like an unwashed favorite shirt If I die Will you read this? Does anyone else think such things or is Tonio Kroger my only brother? I am Kafka’s cockroach, everyone is waiting for me to die or to change into what you want me to be. my name will not be in the history books by the time my children’s children will have children I am no one. Everything fades in this world like whiteboard-marker on acetate lives. Desolate corners and garbage tell stories art is vandalism, vandalism is art. and people wear diamonds but they are worth nothing. and babies inherit their father’s eyes. I am not yours. You are not mine. Isn’t ownership objectification? If a man owns a clock does the clock own the man? Let’s be money and greed or greed and suffering. one cannot survive without… Let’s be the mismatched pyramids of wealth and population form a parallelogram like bricks on an unstable wall never falling down.

68

Didn't listen to a word they said, Don't let it go to your head, No sweeter than a siamese cat, A pillow soft to follow that. I am me I am honesty, I am me to be honest highly modest, To dress you up not incorrect, As I lead you on that subject txt, No sense of cure no maintenance here, No in betweens to acetate fewer. I am me I'm honesty, I am modest to be honest. To the people on the street, In all my work friends up all week, And in glory you appear, At night you disappear. I am me I'm honesty. I am modest to be honest, In private times asking this big question, Its easy to sell in one direction. A give or take its hard to make, Give me one more big suggestion. I am me I'm honesty, I am modest I do promise, I am me I'm honesty, I'm getting away from my O'Reily office. @O'Reily26102012

0

Aug 11, 2014

Aug 11, 2014 at 1:38 AM UTC

oreilyegan

I Am Me I'm Honesty

Didn't listen to a word they said, Don't let it go to your head, No sweeter than a siamese cat, A pillow soft to follow that. I am me I am honesty, I am me to be honest highly modest, To dress you up not incorrect, As I lead you on that subject txt, No sense of cure no maintenance here, No in betweens to acetate fewer. I am me I'm honesty, I am modest to be honest. To the people on the street, In all my work friends up all week, And in glory you appear, At night you disappear. I am me I'm honesty. I am modest to be honest, In private times asking this big question, Its easy to sell in one direction. A give or take its hard to make, Give me one more big suggestion. I am me I'm honesty, I am modest I do promise, I am me I'm honesty, I'm getting away from my O'Reily office. @O'Reily26102012

27

Corroding off in wreckless control Repeated lines stretching infinitely in ambiguity Sharp muscle relaxant mistakes As we career off the road Into a ravenous singularity We are unforgiving, cynical yet synthetically joyous Quick to pardon Whipped with a gold leash Delicate, leaves, Celtic music Rubik's cubes in our throats We're ready to let love in, willing Nova tech, drunk masks and indication Indignation, we clutch, we fail Partial to conditions Stones out of focus Accelerate Engines bleed borders You are the free way Impotent with quartz remnants Ruins to our fantasy You hide history Covered in my burrow Braking until necks break & bags burst Powdered hair, liquid lips Let's drive home Go beyond the limit Break each others bones And crush our entities Suffocate on suffixes Her explanation acquits the doubt As we appear closer than we may actually be Industrial stacks stretch towards invisibility Letting go of their concentrate Gelatin mind levitate into connection Cups turned upside down Entrapping ego in near vacuum Aqua ducts bouncing off feline eyes 2 & a 4 Perfect air in a foreign atmosphere Spinned on axis, ways to conduct Your supply Secede madness Eternal order Lungs sharply inhale with uncertainty Hydroplaning your attempts at adultery Decision was never your thing Unmoving at every turn Passion with objects Reactions flicker between humility It gives gifts Your skin melts to the touch Chocolate in magma Molten sound deafens drench Jealous mess, dividend Hugging and dripping black with stability Back, holy scripture written with integration Sealed with treachery, acetate photography Capturing clear innocence Boredom and sinfulness Spiked militant Pencil drawn neuroses, veil Bow down to schematics, we're radar Sonar structure solar It's all part of the process

0

Apr 16, 2014

Apr 16, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC

connor-reid

...And So The Aurora Guided Them Down The Red Hills Towards The Meadow

Corroding off in wreckless control Repeated lines stretching infinitely in ambiguity Sharp muscle relaxant mistakes As we career off the road Into a ravenous singularity We are unforgiving, cynical yet synthetically joyous Quick to pardon Whipped with a gold leash Delicate, leaves, Celtic music Rubik's cubes in our throats We're ready to let love in, willing Nova tech, drunk masks and indication Indignation, we clutch, we fail Partial to conditions Stones out of focus Accelerate Engines bleed borders You are the free way Impotent with quartz remnants Ruins to our fantasy You hide history Covered in my burrow Braking until necks break & bags burst Powdered hair, liquid lips Let's drive home Go beyond the limit Break each others bones And crush our entities Suffocate on suffixes Her explanation acquits the doubt As we appear closer than we may actually be Industrial stacks stretch towards invisibility Letting go of their concentrate Gelatin mind levitate into connection Cups turned upside down Entrapping ego in near vacuum Aqua ducts bouncing off feline eyes 2 & a 4 Perfect air in a foreign atmosphere Spinned on axis, ways to conduct Your supply Secede madness Eternal order Lungs sharply inhale with uncertainty Hydroplaning your attempts at adultery Decision was never your thing Unmoving at every turn Passion with objects Reactions flicker between humility It gives gifts Your skin melts to the touch Chocolate in magma Molten sound deafens drench Jealous mess, dividend Hugging and dripping black with stability Back, holy scripture written with integration Sealed with treachery, acetate photography Capturing clear innocence Boredom and sinfulness Spiked militant Pencil drawn neuroses, veil Bow down to schematics, we're radar Sonar structure solar It's all part of the process

65

When the lights stop spinning -- Will the lights stop spinning? This is the crash, This is the fall, I'm the water coming back down Return from orbit and Breaking old ******* bones How's that for home? When the lights stop spinning -- And they will stop spinning. Gift of immortality in abstract. No God, no blessing to grant. Touchdown from orbit, ******* asteroid. I am the master/pilot, My body to destroy

0

Mar 29, 2017

Mar 29, 2017 at 1:23 AM UTC

ZeroNine

Blank White Space: "Ethylene-vinyl Acetate"

When the lights stop spinning -- Will the lights stop spinning? This is the crash, This is the fall, I'm the water coming back down Return from orbit and Breaking old ******* bones How's that for home? When the lights stop spinning -- And they will stop spinning. Gift of immortality in abstract. No God, no blessing to grant. Touchdown from orbit, ******* asteroid. I am the master/pilot, My body to destroy

16

you left me with nothing but a roll of undeveloped kodak film your beautiful acetate face gleaming in the sunlight from your window on nelson do you remember that day? i cried about you last night in bed my lover understood (or so he said)

0

Jul 27, 2013

Jul 27, 2013 at 3:58 AM UTC

katherine-4

acetate

you left me with nothing but a roll of undeveloped kodak film your beautiful acetate face gleaming in the sunlight from your window on nelson do you remember that day? i cried about you last night in bed my lover understood (or so he said)

12

mind tied like two lines shoelaces twisted and knots straight like the cigarette and ******* lines snorted up the nose into the brain of such detached minds the pain they hide comes up to the surface bubbling like liquid acetate they have accepted their inevitable fate it is all but too late to save the hearts of those who remain loveless

0

Jan 17, 2018

Jan 17, 2018 at 9:27 AM UTC

distortedimages

tied down mind

mind tied like two lines shoelaces twisted and knots straight like the cigarette and ******* lines snorted up the nose into the brain of such detached minds the pain they hide comes up to the surface bubbling like liquid acetate they have accepted their inevitable fate it is all but too late to save the hearts of those who remain loveless

19

watch you go cherry-red motor dots that look painted on no bigger than a fingertip contact lens bonnet millimetre-thin wires for legs shuffle not scuttle climbing the stem before you open up unfurl acetate wings brisk flicker into a speck against the sky

0

Apr 25, 2019

Apr 25, 2019 at 7:12 PM UTC

reece-aj-chambers

Scarlet

watch you go cherry-red motor dots that look painted on no bigger than a fingertip contact lens bonnet millimetre-thin wires for legs shuffle not scuttle climbing the stem before you open up unfurl acetate wings brisk flicker into a speck against the sky

12

When days of future pass and cannot come again- Half a century seems a moment. A loved musician meets his end. The haunting notes you played on the flute; those somber moody blues- will echo through eternity though you, yourself be through. A treasured disk of Vinyl; A loved, remembered song. I played it first when just a teen living in my parents’ home. A Sculptor’s work melts in the rain It’s lines made indistinct An author, once thought popular, may soon be out of ink. A film made in the golden age is faded acetate. The beauty of white satin nights I hope escapes their fate.

0

Jan 8, 2018

Jan 8, 2018 at 9:02 PM UTC

john-f-mccullagh

A Night for White Satin

When days of future pass and cannot come again- Half a century seems a moment. A loved musician meets his end. The haunting notes you played on the flute; those somber moody blues- will echo through eternity though you, yourself be through. A treasured disk of Vinyl; A loved, remembered song. I played it first when just a teen living in my parents’ home. A Sculptor’s work melts in the rain It’s lines made indistinct An author, once thought popular, may soon be out of ink. A film made in the golden age is faded acetate. The beauty of white satin nights I hope escapes their fate.

20

featureless eyes propel borderline perverseness my finger breaks sharply as i press record the phone line stretched of its own accord stop and pause but don't turn back a whimpering couch held up by ropes emulsified beginnings of dreams and hopes she paints pain, holes lead to nowhere lesions torn, shriveled stalk, i care my shell broken, becomes hair, i tear ***** from my eyes into her mouth an acetate surfaces to the edge of my mind i cant speak or see, for i am blind ink, blood and snot slick my skin my mirror haunted by the perspex grin grab hold but the wrists are thin broken crushed swept under dead you mean nothing

0

Mar 18, 2014

Mar 18, 2014 at 7:12 AM UTC

connor-reid

Antikythera

featureless eyes propel borderline perverseness my finger breaks sharply as i press record the phone line stretched of its own accord stop and pause but don't turn back a whimpering couch held up by ropes emulsified beginnings of dreams and hopes she paints pain, holes lead to nowhere lesions torn, shriveled stalk, i care my shell broken, becomes hair, i tear ***** from my eyes into her mouth an acetate surfaces to the edge of my mind i cant speak or see, for i am blind ink, blood and snot slick my skin my mirror haunted by the perspex grin grab hold but the wrists are thin broken crushed swept under dead you mean nothing

20

Palatable gargoyles dip the moon In aluminum acetate So it shows through the moods Of God, a mantle for Grace )If only He believed in cancer So it too would seem out of place) The manor house, relevant Guests like Time and Wind wrestle with the manners Of Evelyn Waugh, Mannheim; Euclidean space

0

Dec 16, 2016

Dec 16, 2016 at 1:21 PM UTC

robert-c-ellis

Buckling (bək/ling) – to render organic

Palatable gargoyles dip the moon In aluminum acetate So it shows through the moods Of God, a mantle for Grace )If only He believed in cancer So it too would seem out of place) The manor house, relevant Guests like Time and Wind wrestle with the manners Of Evelyn Waugh, Mannheim; Euclidean space

11

I wish I had a vista of the past and could still hear the squawking hens in their Kibbutz hatches under some 1982 azure sky I wish I were a hippie and could permanently hear acetate music from 1967 dressed in kaftan smoking Moroccan *** forever young If I were to be a poet id gap in the missing years and candy floss the past between youngster hood and my near 60 years

0

Sep 20, 2022

Sep 20, 2022 at 7:17 PM UTC

Antony_Glaser

The Youngster

I wish I had a vista of the past and could still hear the squawking hens in their Kibbutz hatches under some 1982 azure sky I wish I were a hippie and could permanently hear acetate music from 1967 dressed in kaftan smoking Moroccan *** forever young If I were to be a poet id gap in the missing years and candy floss the past between youngster hood and my near 60 years

13

It happens in the half-state when the film of your life is stored on acetate and every time you're late for the appointment. I'm giving it up and not just for Lent. Going to hand back the keys to the door and head back to the place that was there long before all of this prior to the headache the backache the take take ache wake but I think it's too late still reeling around and bound up in the acetate in the half-state.

0

Mar 28, 2018

Mar 28, 2018 at 1:40 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Overcast.

It happens in the half-state when the film of your life is stored on acetate and every time you're late for the appointment. I'm giving it up and not just for Lent. Going to hand back the keys to the door and head back to the place that was there long before all of this prior to the headache the backache the take take ache wake but I think it's too late still reeling around and bound up in the acetate in the half-state.

19