"adapts" poems
Crawling through my brain till it has made channels connecting to tunnels like little circuits replacing my nerves, the little worm I call Loneliness wriggles onward.
A constant motion of forward goes that worm, bringing with it a never ending feeling of monachopsis.
Day after day it dwells in my mind as the worm carries on.
It adapts and evolves finding a solution to every mastermind plot I find from removing this creature, this beast, this worm from my mind.
“Friendship is betrayal, they all leave and deceive in the end,” it whispers through my head as if another conscience inside my being.
I fear the worms words and obey every command. Dare I disobey what dismay would come my way?
“Happiness is a lie along with perfection, never trace your hands along such deadly lines, the lines of which a mortal mind should never tread,” he says using my beliefs against me. “Happiness is for those who belong, not for you, never for you!”
The worm screams those words through my mind anytime I laugh or smile reminding me not to be so daft.
Oh beautiful, wonderful,brilliant demon of mine.
Keeping me from trying to find ways to end the suffering in my life
Morbid torment in the back of my mind,
Keeping me from trying to find ways to silence the loneliness screaming within, bringing me further into the dark.
What would I do without you, dear Loneliness?
You cloud my mind and free me from my foolish desires.
Why should I not be alone?
If I was meant to feel together,
Then together surely I would feel.
Why should I feel happiness when happiness isn’t mine?
How selfish I would be without you holy creature,
Beautiful blessed worm of wonder.
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 1:27 AM UTC
Bring your own juice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How is someone supposed to put into
words that they feel/ have been made (self)-aware(somehow) there personality adapts (naturally)?
to the people they are around and even beginning
to mimic the interacting persons emotions and personality traits
to create a, sociable personality.
because depression has taken a dramatic toll on their personality and they know longer know how to
Be there own person:
I often forget about the things i actually enjoy doing
because I'm not surrounded by people that enjoy doing the same things.
I love to write
I love to read
I like to play the guitar
I like to create art
and
I love making people happy!
So what could possibly be wrong?
Why do I loose my sense of self when I'm with others?
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 1:23 AM UTC
Who accepts change may just survive,
Though who adapts will surely thrive.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
Marital insecurity.
Comes from not trusting one another enough.
It's a sign you knew their ways.
And hope with marriage things would change.
Looking through cell phones.
Placing GPS upn their cars.
Only means, you aware of the answers.
Marital insecurities.
Is a sign to move on.
Or accept the life you live.
And hope things will change.
Dealing with men is a game itself.
Because many adapts to accomplish their causes.
If you're pure then the driven snow.
A ****** some people loves to call it.
Many men will propose to plow the landscape.
And there's no guarantee your marriage would have last.
He just adjusted to prove a point.
That once you have let him in.
It times to move on again.
Marital Insecurities is a sign.
Which many adults walks right into playing blind.
When the truth was before them before, the phase I do.
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 11:55 AM UTC
laced with lovers lonely thoughts,
We prowl.
a handful of shadowed sinners
veiled by the illusions of sainthood,
We lie.
etiquette adapts to enchant.
laugh to lure, touch to trap,
We ******
clothes clutter the carpet.
with the courtship climaxing,
We ****
before the sun can show your shame,
We leave.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 7:38 PM UTC
I was just getting a coffee
Grabbed a seat and shut my eyes
My son was in for testing
Having trouble with his eyes
The room was full of parents
Also waiting on some tests
But over in the corner
Sat one boy not like the rest
He was in a wheelchair setup
With knobs and flags, all sorts of gear
He looked at me and smiled
"you're new...I've not seen you here"
I smiled, mumbled something
He smiled back, said "it's ok."
Then he wheeled himself beside me
And said "Sir, your life will change today"
"Your son will come back to you"
"There are things he'll have to do"
"He can only do so much though"
"The rest is up to you"
"Don't look on him as challenged"
"your son, is still the same"
"he's now....a different kind of normal"
"If you must give it a name"
"A child born with no sight"
"That is normal ....don't you see?"
"What's normal to that child"
"Is just not the same for you and me"
"It's a different kind of normal"
"That's the best thing you can say"
"For a child without eyesight"
"you just find a different way"
"How do you know the feeling"
"Of something you've not had?|
"If you've never caught a football"
"Would missing it be bad?"
"It's just a different kind of normal"
"That's all that I can say"
"I've never run or jumped"
"But, I still learned to play"
This boy, was something special
Someone special, heaven sent
I was learning things for nothing
And to me that's money well spent
"A person adapts to whatever"
"it is they have to change"
"It's just a different kind of normal"
"And it's really not so strange"
"Who says just what is normal?"
"We're all different in some way"
"Whether hindered by our bodies"
"Or by things along the way"
"To label one as special"
"or as challenged, or just ill"
"It limits them forever"
"It equates them down to nil"
"Just think we all are equal"
"We just don't all act the same"
"We're a different kind of normal"
"And to us, it's not a game"
He touched my hand real gently
More like a feather on my skin
He said, "My name is Simon"
"And I'm glad that you came in"
"Just think of what I told you"
"Just take some time, once I am gone"
"We're all a different kind of normal"
"Now you know...so...pass it on."
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC
Crazy how the new got old so quick
Drug dealing is the new entrepreneurship
Stripping is the new night shift
**** financial aid ****
Since they finish college but continue dancing
On that ***** pole ****
Gay is the new straight
Killer cops are the new superman
And cop killers the new batman
Since when have black lives matter
That's old news ****
Social media fame is the new news feed
And gangster rap beef is the new comedy
Kevin Heart is the new Bill without the pill
Obama is the new Kennedy not John but Robert
Hillary will be the new President
But that's just my prediction
Even-though 49 percent of me believes a Republican is winning this election
Since they are the new donkeys and Democrats the new elephant
Orange is the new black?
.... wait...
Orange is the new black?
That's a thing of the past orange been the color for Blacks
Poets are the new rappers
Rappers are the new fathers
**** is the new medicine
No need for doctors and nurses
Money is the new God
Gold chains are the new nooses
Since every ***** want one
D'usse is the new Hennessey no need for a chase
So much new in the world but I'm still the same ol' me
Cole is the new Nas
Kendrick is the new Em
"Drake is the new great Philosopher"
But that is in the words of the Bronx borough president
Since he is the new ***** of politics
But there's only still one
Jay-z
Ball is the new life
and hoes are the new wife's
Snitches are the new thugs
K2 is the new ****
Heroine the new *******
Pills the new crack
So much new in the world and I'm still the same ol' me
Black will be the new white
Peace will be the new war
But those are just my predictions
Since we lost our self-identity through the modern age of seasoning
So much new in the world as I predict
I'll stay the same
While the environment adapts to me
never the other way around
I'll forever be me
And these voices in my head are just the curse of the talented
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 7:30 AM UTC
human revelations in our sleep poses
she sleeps with both arms back, murmuring,
flung over her hearing head,
as if she is surrendering
nightly
me slip away for a few, only to find
her left hand ****** by her arm crook'd,
fit to her temple, as if to bear the weighty weight
of a heavy head plein des thoughts, dream-mares, tales and talks,
too dense to contemplate
without assistance,
armed support to hold on, hold up,
fighting/ accepting as a unwanted outcomes
or retrying old misdeeds
(no, no, oops, that’s me)
stirring,
she swift motions/crisscrosses her arms into an X,
a human parts tiara atop, on blond tresses, that fully messes
any remaining daytime efforts and her nighttime wild dancing^
no one reveals me,
none inform on me what positions
my containership adapts, adopts when my woke-guards
are dismissed/released and
lay unprepared to disguise my innermosts exposures
ow, early am resting comfortable with a six poem-pack of
slept hours on my tool belt,
so far this weekend one shot fired before the day officially
is belle rung and these poses thoughts
are upon what my eyes alight
can’t decide if knowing how I dance in the bed at night,
reflationary, deflationary, worth fact facing,
for this is no secret
*my sleep hours are colored,
admixture of moving pictures,
punctuated with
stills of past and future,
the poses
of how to greet, were greeted,
withstood upheld ran from wept, murdered,
faced up, faced down, go unrecorded
and the
poems residuals
and the
poem prophesying-
both!
fearful confessions for acts
committed and foretold*
Decision: I don’t want to know
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC
she whispers poetic metaphors
comprised of beautiful words
into thirsty ears
and watches as hungry eyes
become enveloped with stars
as they imagine the beauty
of her love
she tells them
¨he is the earth
and i am his moon
orbiting around him¨
orbiting for him
but
you see
an orbital´s path
is not paved by love
for she often asks herself
if she was really in love at all
or was it simply
his proximity
which so forcefully
pulled her in
for closeness
is what tore the moon
from her own established path
amongst the stars
when she encountered
the inescapable gravity
of another celestial body
the moon
diminutive and frail
in comparison
had no choice
but to succumb to the earth´s captivation
and redirect her path
to assume a new orbit
around a new focus
instead of progressing forward
she now knows nothing
but the same hideous loop
and like a scratched record
it repeats itself
over
and over
and over
and over
again
and every taste of freedom
simply brings her careening even quicker
around the next corner
until she becomes
all too familiar
with the same series of events
so she convinces herself
she's fallen in love
then that she's fallen
back out of it again
except
she hasn't really fallen anywhere
her mind simply adapts
a new narration
for the same spiral storyline
she never really loved him
for while they were close
momentum prevented their hearts
from ever truly touching
(for if the moon and the earth
drifted too close
they would collide)
and she will never know
now that she has become entranced
by a new planetary orbit
and as she tells the story
of how the moon
fell for the earth
the paradox of orbitals
was the perfect disguise
for her sinister love
x.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 6:16 PM UTC
You sow seeds of your life,
By your own self.
You wish that they survive,
Without others' help.
You put some water of affection,
And desire for a vibrant leaves collection.
You anticipate it show the true inner reflection.
You wish the plant to grow soon,
It peaks out and sees the brutality.
You take care of it in the blazing afternoon,
So that it doesn't adapts to the causality.
You wish it to grow into a sturdy brawny tree,
Which gives fruits and blooms flowers,
Which can be set free,
And is full of vie and power.
Once it's usual to the surroundings,
People come and go.
And say bad words cursily
The tree- it's morals go low.
The imaginations and expectations
All are failed.
Full of scars and suctions
You now sailed.
Back to - from where you came.
No guilt, no regret, no shame.
You think to earn more fame,
Making your life truly lame.
The tree without you died,
Because it had no hope.
Are you still capable to say "it's mine"
It is long gone.
Aug 6, 2021
Aug 6, 2021 at 9:48 AM UTC
Difference meant crosses
connecting lines of diffusion.
Anak, there was a time
your last name - carried
but prejudice will follow.
Our immigration,
garnered tailored unsuited
ties to our beautiful pearls,
progress adapts singularity,
a strength for your identity.
Relief, from fastened shades
opens palms allowed to dry.
Soiled worth will blossom
your ancestry will procure
self-reflection, and will spread.
Speaking our language
turned to novelty stones.
But a divided tongue
will speak the same good
bringing you respect.
Wash your hands, pray before
eating with your hands.
Appreciate the feel of the rice
each grain has it’s worth,
the pull from our hull.
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 11:50 AM UTC
Well, you have a dislike toward me.
When I hadn't done a thing to earn it.
Maybe because your friends adapts to me.
When they slowly trying to avoid you.
So what?
Why are you avoiding the truth?
When others has been telling you.
Why spread rumors?
When they all true about you.
So what?
If some think they better than you.
That's just an opinion they have of themselves.
We, are no better then anyone.
But self-confidence comes from you have faith to be someone.
So what?
If a few gets down on you.
I bet they insecure concerning their abilities.
So what?
Just be you.
No one knows you better than yourself.
I hate you.
I can't stand you.
To them just say.
So what?
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 8:02 PM UTC
She is a pearl, not fully grown yet.
She hides in her shell away from the predators that only want to rob her of herself.
Over the years she grows, she adapts to the world around her because she knows that once she is done growing she will be something beautiful.
She plays show and tell with the tales of her young depression, the solitary game of hide of seek that she wanted so badly to win but she could never find herself.
The only game she ever wins is the mind game that no one other than herself can figure out.
She is awarded champion for making it into high school, the hell years of her life.
She did it, she made it this far,
And now everyone and everything are at her throat trying to drown her in her self doubt and the misery that a waits when she comes up for air.
She holds her trophy high as if it was supposed to be a beaken of hope repeating to herself "I can do it".
She questions her heart, like her heart is the one teasing her with happiness but we all know it isn't.
She tries so hard to hide herself from everyone who could potentially cause her harm but its impossible, her shell is cracked and everyone has found the opportunity to try to break in.
Her insecurities are scars, heart breaks are bruises, betrayel shows as broken bones, dishonesty are missing teeth for each person who has ever walked out of her life.
...
She plays a game of show and tell with her young depression, like she can point to each scar and say "I was fat", each bruise and repeat "he left me for her", each broken bone, each tooth and her tears will tell you the rest.
She will walk over to her trophy case and sigh because she knows it doesn't give her hope, its just proof showing she could withstand breaking infront of everyone for years.
She is a pearl who grew up the wrong way, she will never be perfect.
She will have dents and cracks and she won't be as strong as she was supposed to be.
But that doesn't matter because only beautiful people show their flaws,
She is still everything beautiful to me.
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 10:55 AM UTC
I stood by the shore,
Watching the waves pass through,
feeling its currents go against my feet.
The force was strong.
The water was cold.
My toes gripped firmly to the sand.
I could not move forward.
I did not want to move forward.
If it's this much here,
it must be worse there.
Little did I know that,
what lies ahead is better.
For as you go deeper,
water embraces more of your parts--
your body adapts to its temperature.
And there, the waves once so intimidating are calm.
Jan 20, 2025
Jan 20, 2025 at 12:24 AM UTC
Ivy.
It grows everywhere.
It can be poisonous,
or harmless.
Either way,
it's ivy.
I want to be like ivy.
A part of nature,
never to die.
But what use is nature,
when it sits and lies?
When it has no purpose,
other than to survive.
Isn't that the same as humanity?
Ivy is like humanity.
It grows around whatever it latches onto.
It adapts to it's environment.
It can be used,
and even admired.
It can also be hated,
and even decimated.
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 9:27 PM UTC
Now that the sun has burnt out
And the stars lay ****** at my feet
What now is to be done about the consequence of us
As we stand at the thresh hold of marriage
With death at the door
How will we thrive when we are gone
While the trees taunt us with their strong roots
We are swept up by fools
As we burn and rip and tear and leave little for any compassion
Let it burn
The trees will grow
We will not
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC
When the poet loves, the poet gives birth
The poet reigns over the vast lands of the earth
As the love grows, the poet conquers all the seas
With ink-stained hands, the poet shapes galaxies
A poet in love crowns a special muse
His ocean of inspirations, the poet's mind on a cruise
Hands grow exhausted, crumpled papers accumulate
Verbal perfection, the poet seeks to create
The poet sings, lyrics morph into his beloved's name
Eyes descry a lovely face, metaphors embody a frame
With mellifluous words, the poet builds a pedestal
Through his poetic verses, his beloved turns immortal
The air the poet breathes, the radiant sun in the sky
The joy at Christmas Eve, fireworks during 4th of July
Furious storms, calming breeze, devastating earthquakes
The beloved adapts any form, whatever the poet makes
Resplendent rainbows insipid compared to corporal curves
Art erupting from pens, embellishing what eyes observe
From vivacious mornings to sleepless nights
The beloved is everything - everything, the poet writes
But on a daily basis, the poet wages into an inconspicuous war
A pen as his reliable sword, stacks of papers hide every scar
A war of incarcerated words, of subdued emotions
Even the most trivial move can shatter the crystal elation
The poet writes when in bliss, all the more when morose
Describing through flowery words, the beauty in an overdose
The beloved's candle-like fingers transmogrify to perilous daggers
Affectionate lips emulate a whirlpool at the heart of ocean waters
The poet seeks the tranquil blue in a bed of scarlet flames
Ears hearing strident chains of profanities as endearing names
And the poet still loves, never ceases to write
Exacerbation of the rational mind and melodramatic heart's fight
The sun conflagrates the flesh, moon freezes the core
Billows that used to dance vehemently washes the poet ashore
A hand grips a pen tighter and writes some more
Words of today vociferously emerging from yesterday's door
When the poet loves, the poet gives birth
His love reigns over the vast lands of his earth
Then it blinds the poet's sight, defiles the poet's ink
His own words are the music as he dances on the brink
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 7:26 AM UTC
I)
At year end oft, we think to say
Look back no more, as comes new day.
Some will see it with their spoons engraved
Though sadly, many remain enslaved.
But Hopeful ever, we press right on
As we search for good in everyone.
II)
In store and warehouse food is bailed
Urgent supplies for when crops have failed.
While shattered lives in tents on hillsides
Families caught in the refugee tides.
As earthquake victims lie underground
Courageous rescuers listen for sound.
Some must rely on drug-lord’s favours
In lives that no sane person savours.
Yet here are we in our clean safe home
From which we’re always free to roam.
III)
Complaining often, we fail to grasp
The richness of our situations
In truth we live in comfort zones
Free from terror and deprivation.
Whilst some no luck they ever see
Until in death at last they’re free.
IV)
And who should tackle such terrible woes
It should be us, plain as your nose
So we elect fine politicians
Who mainly only serve patricians
From whence they mainly are derived
Plebeians forgotten, of voice deprived.
For even though your vote was cast
And Bills you disapprove get passed
You only get to vote one way
And never really have your say
Your troubled mind creaks with unease
As those in charge do as they please.
V)
And in inertia nothing moves
The rut of hopelessness just proves
That though we feel the pain of others
Around this Earth we all are brothers
The comfort zone adapts to fit
The place within in which you sit.
VI)
Meanwhile, those victims still in tents
Await such help as we have sent
Which waits in ports in rotting state
While shares are argued in debate.
We did our bit they all will cry
But did that stop young children die??
©Joe Wilson – Those who are at the end of the queue, always…2016
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 3:40 PM UTC
Down the hill traversed so often
a well-known tree, though sometimes more.
Lacklustre to those who couldn’t know better.
Small. Simple. Secluded.
Oozing with possibility, endless realities.
This place is rich with significance.
Subtleties of every nook and cranny,
Familiar to me like the back of my hand.
No knock as I enter, though this isn’t my home.
Welcomed as one of their own.
United again my accomplice and friend
Ever ready to pick up where we left.
How can there be any care in the world?
When this world adapts to our will.
This place is for us and always will be.
For now, at least it would seem.
10 years on still sharp in my mind
how important a dull place can be.
Nostalgia, not always a comforting thing,
10 Verden Close – the last time I was free.
© Jordan Costigan
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 7:03 PM UTC
_In the heart of nature’s grand design,
Lies a wisdom, ancient and divine.
From the whispering winds to the ocean’s tide,
Intelligence in every leaf, every stride.
Mountains stand tall, with secrets they keep,
Rivers carve paths, through valleys they sweep.
Nature adapts, evolves with grace,
A dance of life, in every place.
Artificial minds, we now create,
Learning from nature, we innovate.
Algorithms mimic the patterns we see,
In forests, in skies, in the deep blue sea.
Neural networks, like roots, they spread,
Seeking knowledge, where data is fed.
Machines now learn, adapt and grow,
Reflecting the intelligence nature bestows.
Yet, as we build this digital mind,
Let us remember to be kind.
For in nature’s wisdom, we find our guide,
To create with care, and not with pride.
Nature’s intelligence, a timeless art,
Guides our journey, as we start.
In every code, in every line,
Nature’s wisdom, forever shines._
Dec 20, 2024
Dec 20, 2024 at 3:54 AM UTC
there is never silence,
always something humming,
buzzing,
creating a melody for the world to sing,
and when someone is off beat,
the world adapts and belts out a new tune,
so there is never silence,
i wonder what silence really is,
i suppose I'll know when I die.
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 1:17 AM UTC
The letters fall and make words
The words bend in order to meet my thoughts
My thoughts take a shape that is pleasing to me
I form in a way that the world will see me as normal
Normal adapts to the time in which we live
The letters tell the time
Jul 14, 2010
Jul 14, 2010 at 3:20 PM UTC
I like the dark.
Nobody can see you
Or what you are doing.
What your expression is
Or what your emotions are.
You can cry in the dark and nobody noticed until
They shine a torch in your face.
Your eyes change colour in the dark as your night vision adapts.
Like your eyes, your mood can change.
From happy to sad by watching a gut-wrenching scene.
Nobody notices.
Nobody knows you are there.
You can be so invisible in the dark,
It's like you aren't really there.
Like you've faded
From the very world and time itself.
I like the dark because I can be me
With hundreds of people
Surrounding who never notice or see.
It helps me see them for who they really are.
Whether they are truly good or not.
I need good people,
To share the light and
Pull me back into reality
When I'm too far gone.
To comfort me in times of sadness and to share my pain.
Or simply to be there.
Like I said,
I like the dark.
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 4:15 AM UTC
Secret lotteries will be held
Things will be decided
Underneath hanging prisons
atmospheric pressure adapts to gravitys constraints
This is who shall die
It was decided fairly
Tom
Sharon
Niel
And Garret
They will be informed
and procedings will commence imediately
Death hung on nails in the wood
Darkness cowered from the depths of hell
Frequency streams electrified infinity
Planets exploded then re-appeared in an instant
Warriors and monsters drank each others blood
Tom
You first
Grey
Sharon
Grey
Niel and Garret
You go together
Grey Grey
Repositioned particles bare no resemblance to their
former selves after an instant of infinity
The rest are safe now
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC