"acquired" poems
Man has been gifted a great prize
Although they never assumed it would be their demise
Centuries ago the technology produced
Relied upon humans for a little boost
However now it seems every thought by a man
Requires for technology to come up with the plan
It seems man's intelligence has began to backtrack
Similar to being subdued in a flashback
All the knowledge they've acquired
Is something that cannot not be admired
Their lives are corrupted by the media
They get information from the Internet- not by encyclopedia
There is still a chance for them to turn it all around
And use these faults to help with the rebound
However if they continue on as shown
Their advancements will soon be marked with a headstone.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 1:52 AM UTC
I was thinking of a son.
The womb is not a clock
nor a bell tolling,
but in the eleventh month of its life
I feel the November
of the body as well as of the calendar.
In two days it will be my birthday
and as always the earth is done with its harvest.
This time I hunt for death,
the night I lean toward,
the night I want.
Well then--
It was in the womb all along.
I was thinking of a son ...
You! The never acquired,
the never seeded or unfastened,
you of the genitals I feared,
the stalk and the puppy's breath.
Will I give you my eyes or his?
Will you be the David or the Susan?
(Those two names I picked and listened for.)
Can you be the man your fathers are--
the leg muscles from Michelangelo,
hands from Yugoslavia
somewhere the peasant, Slavic and determined,
somewhere the survivor bulging with life--
and could it still be possible,
all this with Susan's eyes?
All this without you--
two days gone in blood.
I myself will die without baptism,
a third daughter they didn't bother.
My death will come on my name day.
What's wrong with the name day?
It's only an angel of the sun.
Woman,
weaving a web over your own,
a thin and tangled poison.
Scorpio,
bad spider--
die!
My death from the wrists,
two name tags,
blood worn like a corsage
to bloom
one on the left and one on the right--
It's a warm room,
the place of the blood.
Leave the door open on its hinges!
Two days for your death
and two days until mine.
Love! That red disease--
year after year, David, you would make me wild!
David! Susan! David! David!
full and disheveled, hissing into the night,
never growing old,
waiting always for you on the porch ...
year after year,
my carrot, my cabbage,
I would have possessed you before all women,
calling your name,
calling you mine.
27.1k
Just how does one define friendship?
Oh, I already know what the Dictionary says.
It's far more than merely one word, or two.
You could apply many verbs to describe it.
Few, on their own will justice due.
It is more about one's emotional perception,
than a mere sentence of words, though descriptive.
For sure it's a feeling, a strong visceral response
evoked by respect, even love of a thing above all other's.
Friends come in many shapes, sizes and colors.
They can be inanimate or living breathing.
All inspire in us a near electrical resonance of reassurance,
a sense of peace, surely comfort. Maybe it starts with
the rhythmic beating of our own mothers heart,
the sound and vibration of our first true friendship.
A little later her breast and the nourishment it gave,
became our first outer world dearest best companion.
Mother's milk, served warm, sweet and tenderly,
Love's personification.
Yes of course Friendship can be an extension of a
strong lasting bond with other people, yet even more.
Our family's are our closest best friends, if we are lucky.
But what of the others?
I have been befriended by books, movies, dogs and
many other non human living friends, I even have
a old film camera I packed completely around the world,
that I count among my closest companions.
A soft warm favorite wool blanket acquired down in
New Zealand, also fits nicely that same description.
An old bamboo fly rod that belonged to my Father,
Is a friend I would not part with for any amount of dollars.
And less I forget (No pun intended) our memories too are
right there, with the best and oldest of our dearest, lasting friends,
Conjured up at a minutes notice.
And perhaps last of all, (you may have more on your list),
I can not leave out the most important friendship of all,
It's the friendship we have with our selves, to which I'm referring.
For if that very personal friendship is not strong and on going,
It's truly doubtful that we will have, or sustain for long, any others.
Sep 13, 2013
Sep 13, 2013 at 2:20 PM UTC
I've always had itchy feet
Never can sit still
Or let the soles of my shoes fuse to the ground
I keep my home around my neck
Wear it in a golden heart shaped locket
I misplaced my compass but never lost myself
I crave the ground passing beneath my feet
Beneath wheels and airplane shadows
I measure my age in miles acquired
I've seen the Milky Way from every angle
And swam in every sea
I keep going, going, going
And I never stop to wonder what I'm running from
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
Raised
in this floating
world, forever
deep.
You can’t drain the ocean
Decidedly from down
south of here
You can’t un-trace the roots.
You can’t lie and say,
“This isn’t where I grew up”
You can’t deny the fruits
of what was planted two generations ago
when your grandpatents arrived from the Philippines, seeds in tow
soil for the taking
You can’t confiscate what they claimed
when they planted their flags
into the moon-white sand of a beach in Florida
on a far side of the planet
their forefarthers have never seen
You can’t say those flags weren’t there
when wind came
You can't ***** out that pride
of country,
cut off its native tongue and its acquired taste, or pass up the plate of fried lumpia and rice passed down from the kitchen of your Daddylol
feeding seven kids day in and out with tomatoes he planted,
chickens he raised, Malonggay leaves he grew
with thumbs so green they wrote in the papers about it
He was a farmer
Your grandmother, a nurse
And i was writer
And this is our story
You can’t erase the letters of your name,
your lineage written all over it
like a map
of everywhere we been
You can’t take back the words in Tagalog and Chavacano
your Lola Shirley must have sang your mother to sleep with
You can’t take their dreams
You can't just wake up one day and undo
the ripple effects their moves
created across waters 10,000 miles east of here,
the rolling waves they curled into
or the faraway shores they washed up upon
Bottled messages in hand
Our legends held within
You can’t say centuries from now that they won’t feel it
when their feet hit the sand of their own frontier
beside the waves we stayed making
a history written in deep water
for those who come after you
to sail above and beyond.
Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 6:51 PM UTC
Myth
"Observable phenomena's effect on the human condition."
Mythology
"Utilizing knowledge acquired during human existence to better understand the inexplicable through language."
History
"The perception of past events or knowledge altered by the present human condition."
Technology
"Mankind's attempt to eradicate God and Nature in order to determine whether or not there is life after death."
APOPTOSIS
"Programmed Cell Death." *
Feb 17, 2018
Feb 17, 2018 at 2:11 PM UTC
maybe i'm an acquired taste
maybe i'm like an artichoke cupcake
maybe you learn to like me
maybe you don't
maybe i try too hard
maybe i don't
maybe it's not me this time
maybe you only like cupcake
maybe you only like artichoke
maybe one day there will be someone
who likes both
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 2:16 AM UTC
The puppy sat by the door.
Near dying to go out.
Crying an abysmal wail
As if a naughty child.
Pawed and clawed the kitchen door.
No-one heard the honey pup.
Everyone was out.
Owner running late for work.
Neglected to let her run.
However could she forget.
It got to six a clock at night.
No-body came.
The tension built up.
Fluid build up.
Exploded sweet pup.
(metaphorically of course)
Owner came home.
Just couldn't be cross.
Cleaned up the muddle-some puddle.
Gave her puppy a hug.
Smiled to herself.
Said to puppy how sorry she was.
Cautionary tale acquired from here.
No matter how ever late you ever may be.
Put your cute puppy out to ***
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 9:36 AM UTC
The mountains stand strong and mighty
The tall majestic foundations of life
They hold so much, towering high and beautiful
However they are silent.
Then there are volcanoes
They tower like mountains,
They are mountains
But, they flaunt their power
They spew lava, and grumble loudly
Mountains have acquired the virtue of humility
One of the most important virtues Christ teaches
They are humble but you still get their point
I do my best to get my point across,
But I strive to get it across in a certain way,
Unlike volcanoes, Like a mountain.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
" As aging continues and time goes by,
the desire for our voice to be heard becomes more of a cry.
Acceptance and attention is what we desire.
But the problem is who we admire.
We often search for praise from peers,
which may give our father tears.
Worldly glory is difficultly acquired,
so why not seek the lord,
in who's eyes we are greatly admired."
Oct 16, 2011
Oct 16, 2011 at 10:46 PM UTC
only an idiot like me, the rain poured down, my socks were wetted, and i looked at the pavement for glory, instead i found a £10 note and imagined my right shoe on my left leg, and my left shoe on my right leg... just to prove the luck.
it came from listening to rotting christ's kata
ton daimona...
i wrote the poem on two tesco receipts
numbering them no. 1 - .4,
it made sense to just give it a narrative...
the naturally apparent lisp of greek is due to...
lies between theta (θ) and phi (φ)...
check feta cheese... it might be less morbidly fermented...
that's why the greeks have a natural lisp...
it's theta and it's phi...
in english it's like chinese.... w & r...
something's rolling something's waving,
something's trigonometric...
harrison fowd was almost jonathan woss if i care...
the chinese in english debate with chin-chin-wanker
scissors piece of paper stone good luck on the handshake:
lost the price of interest being gained for excavation
purposes of dinosaur bones and inflation via the
ptertodactyl of the extended mohawk shave...
english dicionary makes me confused...
it places theta alongside the, than... but then
it's therapy... thermometer...
too many unique examples i'd have said...
that's the lisp there... sidelined phew and engaged in phew
in byzantine...
english linguistics is filled with too many "unique" examples
of expression... coupled with the celebrity culture...
i farted and a person took hold of a *** squeeze...
how's that?! english language in summary?
pleasing on the eye... but the spelling? a burden on the tongue.
i know that slavic linguistics would make enlgish that's written
ugly...
it wouldn't be pharmacology but farmacology...
then it made sense, i stopped asking the english dicta
written down, the greek θ wasn't a couple of th & etc...
a few athenains in death metal said it like i said it... the 2nd f...
it was απηθανoν - because it was simply athens - fern fence...
and not d... defence, or anything easily acquired as a prescription
of zee wee point of german scottish.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 7:04 PM UTC
Utopia Must Be An Invention of the Mind
I have searched long and hard, trying to find that place
where peace and serenity, in our world may yet grace
a chance to meet a dream come true, if only for a few
where pain and suffering are gone, and will never renew
Then I realized, this Utopia I seek, on a map will not be found
still an undiscovered world, whose contemplation will confound
finding some comfort, the thought of my soul ascending on high
no longer to be troubled, suffering on earth never again to decry
A world exists but not for the living, to experience this garden of delight
a place where the happiness of life's dreams, will satiate your appetite
where fear and worries cease, hope and desire now become your reality
trials and tribulations throughout life, ending with that long awaited finality
Maybe Utopia really does exists, but only with extreme effort can you hope to say, it you have acquired
but most people refuse to commit, unwilling to put in the time and effort that is unquestionably required
how mistaken we often are, thinking we can still remain happy, giving up by settling for that much less
only up to the point we are once again challenged, and our daily events again cause us all of our stress
To understand why so many people never seem to be satisfied, no matter what they have, it is never enough
first we must acknowledge the answer might be found in the lies people believe, but most of them are a bluff
Utopia must be an invention of the mind, convincing itself that feelings of joy and happiness are close at hand
seemingly it might then be prudent to maintain this self-deception, since this is what our egos really demand
Although it has been stated time and again that Utopia does not and can not exist, yet we still continue to dream
coming to teach us this great lesson in human psychology, how much for happiness' sake, we're willing to scheme
yet we can take note to the fact that despite our varying differences, this human condition remains constant in us all
our primary need for true happiness is why we can rest assured, invisible Utopia we will forever continue to recall
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC
When I found my voice
suddenly everything had meaning
I found my purpose
thoughts were no longer random
but a systemized way of motioning
dreams into reality
My voice had been lost somewhere
in the dungeon of self-doubt,
had to free myself, had to escape in
pursuit of happiness
along the way,there were battles
encountered and obstacles to
overcome
But my focus was centered on success
not on will-power it wouldn't be enough to face the rough
terrain of disappointment and words that break
I had to master courage from within
while feeling confident fighting off
conflicted ideas of those that looked down
on me with lowered eyes as if i didn't matter
I couldn't settle, I didn't,kept going and growing
I acquired knowledge with each new level
and wisdom wasn't too far,
disapproval from others fueled my persistence
I persevered even when it looked hopeless
It was necessary to forge ahead,
it was mandatory to believe when those close lost faith,
failure was not and still is ,not an option.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 7:34 AM UTC
I feel decompressed and lethargic,
as I continue scrolling through my online soul only to see a kind-hearted person now nostalgic.
Why can't we all feel the same?
Why does the world seem to be aflame?
It's because we all try to accomplish being perfect,
and when we spot "convicts" we don't even detect we inflict neglect.
The thought of unity is fading away as is the hippie way,
a late anniversary bouquet whittling away,
a smoking cigarette left around the ashtray, dying this midsummers day.
Why is this thought so crazy anyway?
The change starts internally,
and can only be finished by an honest community,
one where we can all live with our acquired mental immunity.
Finally, peace sets within our unity.
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 11:52 AM UTC
There is no moral code
When time is an icy road
Where you cannot stop
Or you'll be stuck in the cold ground
When the temperature drops
Snow collects in my frosty frown
And starts to linger
On my frostbite fingers
While I keep sliding
On the line we're riding
I see icy roads
Leading to icy modes
Of acting
Impacting
The way we treat each other
The same way we beat each other
To the finish line
Of our frigid time
Time isn't nice
When it's ice
But it's all we know
Time continually goes
The challenges grow
Buried in snow
Trying to go uphill is a nasty nope
Sliding downhill is a slippery slope
If you momentarily lose your control
You're pulled over by the cops on patrol
Everything is covered in snow
Even the cars being towed
Their owners gave away their agency
And are at the tow truck driver's mercy
They rely on him to get them to safety
So they cunningly wear his jersey
There are things we want
Acquired by tease and taunt
We drive on top of bodies
To gain traction on the street
We do what is naughty
To have enough to eat
I careen through time
Without seeing a dime
Everything looks so plain
In this frozen rain
When the ordinary life
Is within my sight
I look for something more
Only to see a frozen door
There is ice on the road
There is ice in my heart
I can't handle the load
In the back of my cart
Until I decide
To abide
By the slide
And glide
On the edge of control and freedom
There are other cars and I'll lead them
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 2:03 AM UTC
The heart works for the hard work,
beating constantly as targets are acquired.
Shots fired, money wired and payments aplenty.
Contacts signed, terms and conditions defined,
it could take time, but the ***** rolling.
Touch base as we reach for the stars,
customers in charge, their business is ours.
We roll monthly, comfortably in our own domains,
renew them annually again as the pattern remains the same.
Some days, it's a struggle to get out of the pit,
feeling burnout, lack energy for my daily workout.
The wage ain't great but the dividends could add up to millions.
Some are cynical but I won't listen to those opinions.
I treat my staff as people not minions.
No need for incidents were a team of individuals.
Passionate and driven creatures,
hidden features and secret keepers.
Let's get money and lets get paid,
Theres a million ways we can earn more than the minimum wage.
Let's raise the bar, the city is ours and the worlds not too far away...
Dream tomorrow and live today.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
Table full
portions grand
colors and flavors
tempt and persuade.
We want for not
the bounty received
thankful for blessings
pleasantries and conversation between.
Recall when rich
with family
with friends
we rarely repent
having acquired our full share.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 10:09 AM UTC
Dark clouds loomed over the horizon
They broke loose in unprecedented force
Nature’s wrath, sudden violence acquired
It rained down as if unleashing all her fury
It was a downpour without one equal
The heavens let down dark misery for days on end,
Water bodies swelled and hollows filled,
Land mass slipped and trees fell,
Rivers were in spate and dams were full
Waves surfed and waters roared,
Like mountains they rose over the land,
Men in throngs were evicted from their homes,
Hundreds died and livestock perished
Such violence, never ever imagined
Helter-skelter, people fled for life.
Lands inundated and folks marooned,
Homes washed away with all belongings
Power failed and life has come to a halt
Rescue operations go on in full swing
Still many, stranded and crying for help
“Water, water everywhere, nor even a drop to drink”
As Nature thus plays her perfidious trick,
We shall stay united and pool all our might,
To regain for our land what we have lost
When the Deluge chants the dirge of dying souls!
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 9:27 AM UTC
we had been mopping
the kitchen floor all day
and the dirt never
stopped coming back
and earlier we had sprayed
the entire front porch
down with the garden hose
and now it was still wet
which made it feel as if
it had recently rained when in fact
the grass was a crunchy
brown carpet of regrets.
the night before we had
drunk orange smoothies
laced with lime and something
aged sleek and dark
(i think it must have been
the reason we couldn't
sleep that night
lay awake in my parents bed
and i told you why i
wouldn't go swimming
until the sun rose
the dog barked
the birds screamed
their morning songs
and my body stopped its
nightly spasms of fear.)
and the next evening
we put on a miranda lambert song
(the one we drank to
in your mother's van last winter)
sat on the wet
porch swing
and cracked open
our first beers
they were
really bad
i gagged
because it tasted
like carbonated
banana bread with
too much stale
baking soda
and we poured half of them
into the flower beds
the next morning
was sunday
and we had milk and muffins
in the kitchen with
simon and garfunkel
then went back out to the porch
drank iced coffee in the
eleven o'clock sunlight
and you said
"if this were a normal sunday
i would have been up at six
at church by eight
and done teaching my first
sunday school class by ten."
(is beer as much
of an acquired taste
as coffee is?
because i can't ever
remember not liking it
i used to think it was
bitter but i always
liked it anyway.)
i didn't say anything
because i didn't want to
say what was on the tip
of my tongue
that this kind of sunday
had become my normalcy
and our variety of saturday night
no longer felt like underage
drinking and more like
the way i was meant to be.
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 3:15 PM UTC
As the hazy summer days flew by
My heart still sang a lover's song
Longing to retrieve pieces of a broken heart
Perhaps forge anew withing another's arms
But there simply is not enough time, the summer was dying.
Much like the blazing fire within my soul
Deep pensive thoughts,
Concocted by this newly acquired sense of maturity,
Took hold of my mind
As the winter's grasp took my heart.
All the while the scent of old textbooks, chlorine, and dead flowers
Fueled my life.
My legs were tired after constantly running.
One boy to another
And the embers begin to die.
No longer does my heart desire the affection of another
Why run to the beach?
Why try again?
It all ends in pain.
The long hours of talking on the phone
Sharing secrets
Learning all there is to know about another
Loving.
Loving all there is to love and getting your soul torn?
No, I quit this cruel game.
Months pass and I am still hiding in the deep corners of my mind
Trusting another with my emotions?
What insanity
I can trust myself, and myself alone
The snow starts to fall and the cold reaches my core.
I am alone.
My fault? Perhaps
I just gave up on the game of 'love'
But all it really takes is little spark
To make a fire once more.
The new year is rung in with a bonfire under the stars
Notes, cards, flowers...everything
All up in flames.
I watch my old year ablaze before my eyes
And scratch open into a new notebook
"2013"
The blank pages stare back at me
As I ponder which words to embellish the skin with
More deep thoughts...
What do I want?
Having ignored all social aspects of my life,
I was happy.
Good grades, friends at my disposal, decent swim team times
As my thoughts continued
I ignored the feeling building up in my throat.
"Nobody loves you."
Independent, strong, beautiful, cunning, intelligent...
Sure when you brake it down I have a lot going for me.
But to take all these qualities
Have someone love your every flaw, bizarre habit, and womanly curve...
An impossible task.
And so I put my faith in the starts
Asking the universe for a miracle.
And then I waited.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 12:35 AM UTC
He was the ‘revealer of light’
Oracles he read, forecasted future,
Time moved, rustic life stood still
"Look back and see, there is change."
There’s no trial left
The deity acquired the ****** body.
Predictions are vague, he cried in pain
And he danced to his unshakable faith.
The God revealed!
The divine and man in a union of its own,
Patrons wept and asked for blessings.
Serpent’s crown over God’s head-
Shone in the dark light, his golden breast
And pointed teeth, sharp as arrows-
Pierced the patrons, they collapsed in devotion.
The dead hero arose with Godliness
He is God, his blood is divine.
There is change, there is change!
The drums arose and it stroke bold,
Patrons cried in religious zeal
The God plunged himself into the bonfire
He reincarnated.
Born again to die again! Born again to die again!
There is no change! There is no change!
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 11:38 AM UTC
I've been thinking it's time I retired,
acquired a rucksack to strap on my back
and returned to the slow track.
Hitting the road and taking the load off my mind,
with many needles to thread and a hay stack for my bed
I'd be content with it all,
to drift into the colour of fall and ever so slowly disappear,
never here for long,never there or anywhere but everywhere
I would be,
free from the trap laid by polite society.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 6:20 AM UTC
I feel your love,
Yet your marksmanship is poor,
For towards me your love aims not.
Your intentions aimed elsewhere.
A past lover.
And I am not he.
Malicious Misery pushed you too far.
Too far this time.
Your life is precious to me,
Yet a treasure you seek not.
It dwindles within these machines,
Like a strand of seaweed.
Being crashed upon by the waves,
Of this poison you endowed yourself with.
Much a tragedy this is.
Yet not that of Shakespeare.
No, this much too real,
To take a form of fictitious imaginings.
This, much more complicated,
Than a Shakespearean masterpiece.
For if so,
Your love would be aimed at I.
But it is not,
And in resent, I mourn this tragedy.
Yet, I must let love,
Travel upon its everso hellbound path.
My eyes lie upon thee,
And my heart within the feeble hand of yours.
Yet your mind lies elsewhere,
And your desires lie with your mind.
Upon he.
The one currently at your arms reach.
The one at your desires demand.
The one you truly love.
I must not resent this,
For love hath struck thee as it struck I.
And Cupid's arrow hath stuck he as well.
I can see it in his sorrowful stare.
He loves you in a way that I cannot.
A consentful love.
For I am just a scapegoat.
Temporary.
Well now you've quenched your desire.
You've acquired what you sought.
Love of he.
(And I, for whatever its worth.)
His love is a precious gold,
And mine a mere coal.
Black, unwanted.
Only able to provide temporary warmth.
Pardon me for obstructing.
Love hath stolen my precious vision,
And wandered, I,
Into the meadow in which you hunt.
As a poor marksman,
Thou cast thine arrow of love upon me,
And realized I am but a scapegoat,
When the white stag is what you seek.
Once before,
you lined him in your sights.
But evasive is this mystical creature.
And once, he escap'd.
If your life so solidifies,
I shall replinish my vision,
Banish my love,
And obstruct thee no more.
Instead,
I must prosper in silence and patience.
Shun my hearts desires,
And let thee hunt.
I apologize for my inconvenience.
I shall groom each of your horses,
So that you may ride into,
The meadow of love together.
Hence, beware of hunters,
And wandering creatures.
Teach thine unsteady hand,
And this time...
Don't miss.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 4:19 AM UTC
and not for me but for my dad
the father which, for granted had
taken by his family,
both his sons and wife known lovingly
by the single candles light
the messages I've scribbled down
silent, they read, and so despite
the darkness of a moonless night
Who we are now, being the toll taken
on behalf and of each moment acquired
transformations take place, until we cease to be
in the positions symptomatic of what we desired.
Sep 29, 2025
Sep 29, 2025 at 10:54 PM UTC