"adaptable" poems
1995 saw the start of Generation Z,
the ‘iKids’ with a knack for this new-fangled technology,
Millennial 2.0,
caught in the limbo of the World Wide Web development and Rose Gold iPhones.
They say we’re adaptable,
but apparently we can’t make our own decisions about anything.
They say that we don’t care about anything
except for our tiny little screens,
but they forget who put them in our hands,
and they forget who they run to for help
when they forget how to troubleshoot.
They forget what kind of technology we need to keep sustaining life in the Information Age,
Caught in a crossfire because
Yeah, we’re 90s kids—but the 90s never really actually ended until 2006,
the only difference between two decades being
how much neon versus how much chrome,
and just how expensive accidentally opening the internet app on your mom’s blackberry phone was.
We’re nostalgic for all the things we can’t quite remember,
and half these high schoolers weren’t actually born until 2000 or 2001.
Most of us aren’t old enough to even remember 9/11, nothing outside of the news clips that our teachers show us in history class every single September.
I was born in the same year as the Columbine shootings.
The United States has not been at peace for a year of my life.
We are always fighting— fighting for everything.
Human equality,
posing arguments about micro aggressions and refugees, seeing the inhumanity in the past that we’re living.
None of us are older than 21,
under such hard scrutiny while Baby Boomers Wave 2 still run our country.
We inherited the Millenial’s exhaustion,
the generation before us spending our childhood fighting for all the things that we have never really believed in.
Fairytales.
Generation Z.
The ‘iKids’ who are going to one day be making leaps and bounds with technology,
the generation to nurse this dying planet back to health,
Millennials 2.0 who know how to learn from our forerunners’ mistakes,
who know how to adapt from Sidekicks to iPhone 6S Plus in less than a decade.
We’re the kids who have realized that fun is found in safe spaces rather than invading each other’s personal spaces.
They say we’re too sensitive,
but at the same time they claim that we’re desensitized.
And I thought we were the generation that couldn't make decisions.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
He's broken, he's in pieces, he's trapped, in a black hole
He's crying, he's heartbroken, he's dying of loneliness
He's confused, his mind is overloaded, his todger is dropping off
He's this and that and that and this
projecting your ******* fears and insecurities on him
Hahaha...hahaha...hahaha...hahaha...hahaha
You know what....He's NOT....he's laughing at you
He's happy that you now realize there are still men out there
who transcend your ******* stereotyping and imbecilic assumptions .
He's still laughing because he now sees for ******* real
how immature and mentally underdeveloped a lot of you are
and how so petty, mediocre and easy to manipulate you are
Not to mention how weak, spineless and unable to handle pressure
so many of you are.
He laughing because you just act without fully thinking
You are a shallow lot, cowardly, infantile and narrow minded
You lack sound reasoning capacity and a lot of you are neurotic
He's laughing because most believe anything they are told
Unquestioning drones like a Labrador thrown a stick
Go fetch, off he runs, retrieve stick, pat on the head, good boy
Just simple minded followers.
He laughing because he's attained all he wanted
Got a good education, good self understanding, good morality
sensitivity, compassion, empathy, confidence and honesty
A well drilled man, adaptable, flexible, courageous and brave
A MODERN DAY SPARTAN.
He's laughing because you can't ******* take that away
He's laughing because he's shown you how a proper man is
He's laughing because he's invalidated your stereotypical
assumptions, your prejudices, your bigotry and your ignorance
He's laughing because you have confirmed your inferiority
exposed your fears and inadequacies and make others see how
damaged and vindictive you are
He's laughing because out of all only one woman has shown
magnanimity and she didn't belong to the class of the mediocres
Which proves the point that mediocrity goes hand in hand
with ignorance, fear and lack of Dignity and Integrity.
And he's laughing because he's got chutzpah
a big package
and a hell of "tener cojones"
hahaha...hahaha...hahaha...hahaha
[email protected] Sept 2018,Allrightsreserved.
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 9:54 AM UTC
Love is a rare and dangerous creature
That only shows face when the time is right now
Lust is a complimentary feature
Which keeps lovers guessing til both settle down
Not to say everyone settles for less
Love doesn't lie, but it leaves room for choice
Those who are willing to give it their best
Keep Lust in its place and let Love be the voice
Love is adaptable, constantly changing
It morphs and it breathes like a woman or man
Lust is impassible, always deranging
It puts up a wall and masks what it can
Nobody knows what happens to Love
When distance requires the mind to have faith
And stare at the images Lust conjures up
Alluding ideas of mistrust and distaste
Isn't it better to let Love be free?
To keep it confined would just let it die
Allowing the chains for which Lust has the key
To govern the feelings of comfort and pride
Be free, my love, to run through the brush
But always remember where you were at peace
And hurry on back when you've had enough
For I may not be here when your venture has ceased
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 12:50 AM UTC
together we are a velvet dress
comfortable, warm, high-quality material
knee-length, not too fancy
rich, earthy-green in colour
one strap, a bit quirky?
accentuates the thin waist
smoothly caresses the full hip
effortlessly **** soft and flirtatious
not a casual piece, although it is adaptable
the dress hangs heavily on your shoulders and is strapped to your soul
never collecting dust
sometimes worn around the house on a free evening, just for you
wear me here, wear me there
wear me everywhere, the velvet dress cries
but of course this cannot be done
opt for the denim today, the workwear tomorrow
life says it must be so
let's save ourselves for the serendipitous occasion
knowing that this is the greatest part of our beauty and charm
Dec 30, 2017
Dec 30, 2017 at 4:10 PM UTC
For the lonely,
for the loveless,
for the forgotten and overlooked,
for the discarded and trodden on,
for the neglected,
for the ignored and mocked,
for societies weeds,
for circumstantial weeds.
For you outcasts are weeds
the flowers nobody wants,
but
weeds are resilient.
They persevere where others can not.
Often mistaken for weak, but no,
weeds are strong
and tough enough to break through tonnes of concrete
and metal.
Clever enough to find growth in places
others perish in.
Adaptable to every habitat and
brave enough to exist on barren wasteland.
Weeds need only the tiniest of a chance to flourish
For the unwanted,
for the unclaimed.
You are beautiful.
You are equal to every other flower.
You are the Charlock, the Buttercup, the Clover,
the Pinapple-May-Weed and so much more.
Next time you see a **** by the roadside,
or peeking out from a crack in a wall,
or between paving slabs in a busy city,
or overgrown in a garden,
or weaving through rubble and debris,
take heart
lonely ones.
You are not worthless
You are magnificent.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC
We are never free of our Demons
We learn to ignore them
We learn to drown them out
We learn to live with them
Or we get drowned by them
And don't live at all
Our Demons only want one thing
They want to see you squirm
They want to see you give up
They want to see you fail
But you must not
There comes a time you must face them
When you face them
It seems like you against an army
It seems like you against the world
It seems like you against yourself
Because you are fighting yourself
You are your own fiercest Arch-Demon
After you accept this
You can finally conquer yourself
You can finally conquer the Demons that come from without
You can finally conquer even the world itself
And make it tremble
Before your awesome might
But be forewarned
These Demons are powerful
These Demons are smart
These Demons are adaptable
They are all of these things
Because you are all of these things
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
can you tell me how you feel because I don't know can you tell me how to empathise because in me it doesn't show I am trying to bridge a gap that seems to never be filled people say your agsagerating and if you want to change it's in your will but I can't change the way god put me together the storms never go away it's just ment to be wethered I am trying to be adaptable to societies demands but I am only one man autism is stitched together like a quilt there are many shapes and sizes and can't seemed to be mended and are anger turns to guilt we are few and some of us cry out to be understood and some of us can't but wish we could theres no answers to the mystery of the disease all I ask is that you listen so you can see
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 9:33 PM UTC
in my head you're on a pedestal
not even real celestial
like a statue carved by artist
you make me feel less heartless
but i've hardly gotten to know you
i don't want it to be true
because what happens next?
it's like another vortex
like to keep it casual
trying to be adaptable
but your good looks are intimidating
what could i be implicating?
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 1:25 AM UTC
Be = Do = Have: I am Chant!!!
I am committed to being all the finest parts of me!!!
I am beautiful, unique, and astonishing!
I am loved, loving, and treasured!
I am empathetic, emotional, and kindhearted!
I am brave, courageous, and adventurous!
I am intelligent, adaptable, and organized!
I am well-built with my self-control, self-discipline, and drive!
I am inspirational, significant, and exceptional!
I am passionate, persistent, and precious!
I am energetic, motivated, and relentless!
I am a remarkable wife, mother, and companion!
I am an extraordinary human being!
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
Self,
centered,
watching the world burn.
This calm is maintained by
expelling air in between each blink.
Glass is far in sight,
glasses cracked
and not foreseen,
because I'm not a seer.
Blanketed in ignorance,
wrapped: up tight.
Shelf this selfishness, I'm told.
So I consider this advice.
Rearranging the paperbacks.
Misplacing the first editions.
All the math in the world; variables
do not ease understanding
of long division.
So I'm left not right,
have never been alright,
and that is why being centered
is crucial for survival.
That is why becoming adaptable
isn't laughable
while watching the world burn.
It's having a cold disposition
to withstand the heat.
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 12:13 PM UTC
I am not in love, I tell myself. Faint words
do not reverberate, however, I know
that I am very good at fooling myself.
I should feel the vibration,
or so they say.
I am not in love.
Scribbled words running off
loose leaf.
Words left in the margins,
underneath the dotted line.
No Strings Attached
Or so they say.
I am not in love.
My hand on
the small of your back.
The taste of cold.
Wind blows headlines down
the sidewalk.
Adjusting coats and
gloves.
Skin remained covered,
to prevent frostbite,
or so they say.
How much prose
can relinquish this fire,
this intensity, which coincides
with disillusion?
When does an act of grace
become an act of convenience?
I am not in love.
*Every once in awhile you find yourself at a crossroad,
or you feel like you've reached a dead end.
Life is hard to handle sometimes, and so are the relationships we hold.
It's very confusing.
Especially when it is between two people of the opposite ***
The easiest way to explain this,
is that
it is not easy for most people to let themselves be vulnerable.
We all face so many hurdles in life,
trying to attain this goal that is (sometimes) unattainable.
Not all of our dreams will come true.
But that doesn't mean we should lose sight
or become discouraged.*
Or so they say.
That is why we are human.
We are willing to make these decisions
and prepare to accept the consequences in doing so.
We don't allow ourselves to take breaks, simply because life does not stop.
We push forward. We strive. Although, sometimes life catches up to us.
We become irritable.
We become confused.
We become tired.
My life: far too much scrutiny.
In the end, I put too much thought into something
that changes my perspective.
Usually a distorted one.
That is why shutting down in a neurotic state is accepted.
A cool down period,
when all the while we know another meltdown is around the corner.
I am not in love.
Ideally, words should have the same
encompassing power.
But seeing as how I can not
determine what works well
for me, I have conditioned
myself to being adaptable.
No rhyme or reason,
will ease the pain
that seems to follow
your name.
And that is why
I repeat faint words.
I am not in love.
She never was.
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 12:17 PM UTC
I believe I met the devil
And he tried to **** me
No horns did he have
In fact on the contrary
He was fine
And even better he was mine
Or so I thought
Cause love grew even after
Years of waiting and all the debating
Of whether or not
I should let him partake of the goodies
He seemed to have waited
And after all the begging
I gave in and became engulfed
**** I became a fiend for lied in between
It was like a dream and I readily shared myself
And shared all I had cause he was my man
Or so I believed
Even through years of tears
And extreme paranoia
I couldn't break free
There was such an overwhelming presence
That had a hold on me
The devil, a chameleon
Whose colors change as the wind blows
Creative liar and deceptive
Adaptable to playing games
Cause he learned how to be a
Master magician to survive
Enter I who had the nerve to believe
Simply because I conceived
Leopards would lose stripes and choose me
Depressed and stressed
And so disillusioned
But under a hypnotic spell
Trapped in a living hell of mental torment
A sick parody
Cause the reality is
I'd never let someone run over me
Intentionally
How could this be
Better yet, where's the real me
Lost and confused
Chest compressed **** how can I be blessed
Awakened by visions of years of bad decisions
Made my heart stricken as I pant for breath
Cause images of famine and death
Was much more than I could fathom
Life passing me by became my anthem
The subtle whispers of despair was introduced to me
And seduced me effortlessly
Caught in a web of drama and demise
Soul so vexed look in my eyes
Yet steadily believing I was a prize
And to my surprise I was just entangled in the web
With many other victims
I began to pray and ask God
To get me away
Free me from hexes and magical powers
That apparently had overpowered me
He reached in and saved me
And separated me and gave me
Fresh wind, better visions
And a new friend
He gave me provision and I made a decision to stay free
And truly do what's best for me
And finally I can breathe without toxic air
Depression, grief or hopeless despair
I look back and realize I met the devil
And he tried to **** me and **** my dreams
But God is so merciful
By him I'm redeemed
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 11:37 PM UTC
The speed of thoughts traveling along life’s treacherous curves
trying to contemplate the next course of action
images flashing, to enter then leave the peripheral
only for moment, a second in endless time
no longer complacent in the innocence of bystanders
The conviction of minds set upon a road without a path to return
refusing to yield to the simplest of distractions
focus uncanny, to overcome then master all obstacles
thus bringing to bear a force in self-control
limitless in power, endurance, and perseverance
The energy of souls self-perpetuating the fuel for sustenance
striking the balance of the yin and the yang
never tiring, to thrive on then learn from weaknesses
like running water, able to mold to any environment
adaptable no matter the mitigating circumstances
The reason of words inundating the psychic to ponder
meaning in the comprehension of the poet’s viewpoint
endeavor not, instead seek significance inside
for the gear remains in neutral, waiting on the shift
license not required, just the courage to drive.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 7:22 AM UTC
We are happiness we are pain
We are the sunshine and the rain
We are here to remove the stain
Of the elite
Complete
The ideal defeat
Without violence without harm
Let's do it with love let's do it with charm
We have to get the people to listen
We have to show them what is bliss and
How to achieve it
How to receive it
How to believe it
And pass it on
In poems, in speech, in art, in song
We are given these gifts
To cause a rift
In reality
So people can see
That they're living a lie
That they're willing to die
There's a more beautiful way
There's something powerful to say
We have to show them how to make it stay
So we don't have to learn this lesson again
That we are God, the universe and it's beneath our skin
We hold the answers and the truth;
We have to be brave we have to be loud
But be as gentle and adaptable as a cloud
We can't fly away
Until we teach people the way
We're here to ascend
Whether it's by ourselves or with a friend
It's written in the stars and only some can read it
We bring it to earth and then we seed it
Plant it in the ground and make it grow
Have it show
Everyone what they need to know
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 8:20 PM UTC
Glide till the end of time
Break away from the illusion
Experience a smooth ride
With the harmonious waves
Big sea of nothingness
Plunge deeper and swim alone
Experience the tides of change
Away from where you have been
Now you are free of everything
Float in the vast sea of oneness
Soul is fluid and adaptable to truth
Free flow of energy through eternity
You are nothingness and everything
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 7:48 AM UTC
My roots aren't here
They never were
I planted some crops
But they were imported
An ideal situation this land may be
To the adaptable, changing and innovative breeds
It is habitable to the natives and hybrids that are able to flourish
But me, my roots come from a different tree
They belong somewhere else
They always have
I can survive in new elements
But only with proper care and chemicals
The artificial adaptations eventually take their wear
And usually from the inside out
Without the natural nourishment I whither
So as thankful as I am for a land that harvested growth
It is essential to my survival that I find my proper home
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
Though first, I evolved according to plan
Little enabled me outlive this predator
With few permanent armor plates, strong
Muscles capable of crushing
Anything, bones extremely tough,
These serious injuries go beyond
My cold-bloodedness.
I like my environment, have developed
Behaviors to control it, to save energy
That can be put to other use
An evolved entirety of reason
Is why I can go for over a year
In extreme shutdown
My own tissue will feed
On anything it can overpower
Extraordinarily adaptable
During difficult times,
I will scavenge for everything,
Digest nothing left behind
My social interactions are complicated
I primarily lead a solitary life, don’t recognize
Vocalization, postures, signals, touch
My brain more complex than that of any other
A powerful sense of perception
The ability to learn, to avoid situations
That modify me structurally
Adaptations have allowed me to thrive
But surviving human encroachment
May be my biggest challenge
Through habitat enhancement
I may be able to ensure these
Sophisticated survival skills
For years to come
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
people operate under the wild belief that
survivors are strong by nature
strong is a weak word
adaptable is better
The meek shall inherit the earth
the strong will die trying to save it
Me? I’m a survivor
an actor master of disguise
playing the part of a self-righteous anti-hero
but when the bombs start falling
you aren’t coming in my bomb shelter
hell no
and when the mobs are chasing us
I’m tripping you for a few more precious seconds
too stubborn to die quite yet
but don’t worry
when the dust has settled
and the cults have left their caves
to repopulate this rock
I’ll tell the story of your heroic sacrifice
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 11:40 AM UTC
'Pets and Palates'
he had only two real loves
ducks and waffles
this was highly disconcerting
to his parents
who tried to distance their boy
from these strange affectations
by buying him a precious pet goose
named Berchunice
and putting him on a steady diet
of pancakes
and their various
international counterparts
needless to say
he didn't live to a great age
as a matter of fact
he died at twenty-two and a smidge
because while pets generally extend and enrich life
caring for a goose you despise
and dining on starchy carbs
seriously inhibits life expectancy
his passing was terribly unfortunate
as was the life his parents had forced upon him
if they hadn't forced these changes on him
had they merely accepted
perhaps
encouraged even
this love of ducks and waffles
their lovely lad
would have
efficiently and economically
solved global warming
in an effort to protect
the best interest
of his friends
the ducks
and in his downtime
he would have put
a major dent
in the world hunger problem
with a highly adaptable
waffle recipe
too bad.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 6:26 PM UTC
i am your newest
latest
most adaptable
most conforming
but least controlling
****** god
termites ate half of my attic
as if to prove that
this is not my house
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 10:32 PM UTC
It was raining.
On this damp May evening, my mother turned to my sister and asked her to refrain from speaking to me.
Pensive is the word she used.
My sister heard the word "pencil" and thought I was sick with lead poisoning.
I remember her checking the room for different writing utensils, she was looking to hide them as you do the knives when the depressed family member comes for a visit. Such a sweet girl to take the graphite and leave the eraser. I'm sure it was a subconscious gesture, or made with complete disregard, but nevertheless I was smiling.
The first time I fell in love, I was standing up straight, head over heels. A web browser was open before me, asking the difference between love and anxiety. Later did I come to find that the former and latter are more similar than most know or care to know. One night while looking at her lips and glancing at her eyes, she told me I was adaptable. That was the first time I questioned love for lust.
My grandfather started crying.
His hands, those of a carpenter, were holding his face. There I sat across from him, hairs on my neck standing, praying for him to speak first. He always spoke first. He would also tell me to stop him if I've heard the story he was going to tell, although I never did. But the story happening before me was one I wanted to stop but couldn't. Never have I seen this man cry, and that would be the only time I ever would. Two years later he had passed on peacefully.
By then it was my turn to cry.
Some remember the words they've spoken. Others the words they've heard. But I can recall all of the times I've sat in silence. The moments and memories I hold in the company of the ones I love or have had love for are some of the more quiet times in my life. The only quiet which can rival that told above are the times that I've spent putting word to paper. And those are the quiet times I can't remember offhand, but I can always revist. Those quiet times are kept in the walnut filing cabinet.
Right beside the
photograph of the cabinet maker.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
I'll be in the woods, but you won't need me. When I find the wood guarded by scarcity I too will steal, yet I will only take the milk that has already been liberated.
Los Angeles: The air available here is no longer adaptable, my lungs have not evolved like the rest and my filter is getting full, it’s getting complicated to breathe. The chemicals are no longer reacting like they are supposed to. I used up all the gas, the batteries too. I try to wind-up, pull the string, re-charge. These sources no longer work, I need something new. The wiring seems off, the lights sometimes flicker, rarely staying bright for long. I tried replacing the crank, yet there was not enough electricity to put it into rotation. I called for a tow-truck but it never showed, I pumped up my tires and pushed but I still could not roll. I opened the door, starting my journey to the woods…which I hope still exist.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 6:43 PM UTC
Beside a full size bed,
full of destiny and dream,
a corpse dressed up
to fit among
the living, softly sleeps.
Carving sAl(i)vAtiOn in black
marker on the walls,
recounting upset memories,
I stick the landing.
I didn't plan to stay
In this depressive state,
but I'm fully equipped.
Adaptable to necessity,
without trying to fit.
I may be sad, reclusive,
virulent at my worst --
When will you
come to terms with this curse?
When will you learn
it's best
you be
who you
need?
When will you
fall in love with this curse?
When will you learn,
there's plenty room
for the misfit?
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 4:36 PM UTC