"adequacy" poems
Come over here and play with me.
I need to feel some ecstasy.
come over here and play with me.
I want you to make me scream.
Come over here and use me.
I need to feel adequacy.
Come over here and use me.
I want you to be extreme.
I want you to **** me up, **** me up.
I want you to shut me up, shut me up.
I want you to give me up, give me up.
I want you to **** me up, **** me up.
Come over here and abuse me.
I need to feel like you're supreme.
Come over here and abuse m.e
I want you to make me plead.
I want you to **** me up, **** me up.
I want you to shut me up, shut me up.
I want you to give me up, give me up.
I want you to **** me up, **** me up.
Oct 13, 2010
Oct 13, 2010 at 7:32 PM UTC
zappa blows cartoon music
out of a cerulean blue kazoo
in my kitchen while i
eat greasy cold pizza
out of a crusty cardboard box
& marcus the kitten gnaws
on my sock ankle achilles
& it's in moments like this
that i'm a-ok with being alone
my **** could stay soft for the
rest of my life no problemo
i'm beautiful alone i tell myself
out loud & marcus stops chewing
acts like he understands me
but i know it's only
temporary this feeling of adequacy
& full-time fulfillment tomorrow
i'll wake up cold & lonely again
& pining for smooth thighs
& butterflies
& a girl whose best friend committed suicide
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 1:10 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, to be rich is to notice the fair from the unfair:)
get well soon only
when hope not a lie lonely
hospital cell
unavailable played dead and fell
nothing in sequence
all hung on the adequacy
paper said
from future penholder skies unread
the green one too
to the land a stranger soon
what you earn is what you keep
don't count just drown in oblivious sleep
wallets light
rage blinds visible sights
the poor scream
the rich gleam
like an invisible ink flood
evaporation in the air a silenced blood
chocolate missed the ecstasy
everything shut down to reality
bones shrunk
never unnoticed to the think thunk
now things are pale
even the best bread is stale
how I remain
all calm in shameful disdain???
needs become old
whether blazing summer or winter ******* cold
and in my broken chair I be
the pathetic dreamy version of old me
------ravenfeels
Jul 12, 2021
Jul 12, 2021 at 2:59 AM UTC
I'm not going to write about you in my journal
Because unfortunately I feel that that form of confession tends to backfire dramatically and leave me jinxed.
It's like those ink-stained secrets wrapped up in leather counteract the decadent visions I drift to sleep with at night
And so,
No
I'm not going to write about you in my journal
You see, I care about the concept of you far too deeply to chance our lingering moments on teenage whimsical compulsions to gush in secrecy
About the way your words shifted my anchored soul,
About the flooding in my heart when you bared yours,
About the mass amounts of internal riots
(The butterflies doth protest)
Of your pragmatic, flirtatious adequacy
Nay, mastery.
No
I'm not going to write about you in my journal
For fear of risking those moments of substance:
Secret-swapping
Joke-exchanging
Soul-bearing times where I wanted nothing more than to jump eight hours ahead so that I could see the undigitized blue of your eyes and feel the ends of my nerves explode off my skin like the Fourth of July.
How is it
That physical proximity has nothing to do with the closeness we seem to share?
I feel
Compelled
by some unexplainable piece of mind to insist and hope and wish that
Like you once told me under volumes of conversation,
We are connected.
I don't want to waste any of this enigmatic familiarity and sudden interdependency
On matters of my own private indulgence
And for this,
I'm not going to write about you in my journal
For you say that you are Atheist
But I know that you meant it when you told me
Your soul knows mine.
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 8:21 PM UTC
In the mornings I stayed in the blue, carpeted room.
My Cello played the best friend, while I played upon its bare back.
The halls sat silent there.
The walls, bear aside from the occasional music note half sticky-tacked to the white cement, only emphasized my isolation.
They hung yellowed from UV light, and their own forgotten presence.
After the day slipped by,
Through Stephen King book pages
And colored comics,
Through love notes scraped into wooden tables,
And the ring of my own repose draped upon me by scrambled, and passing conversation
I would make my way to the baseball field.
5’4” and nearing 200 pounds
My ardor was never withheld even in the face of exclusion.
I tried for the team
But when the roster ruffled in the fading sun behind the bleachers
I made myself a part of where I was not welcome.
I loved the team
Even as snide comments slithered
Through the teeth of passing players,
Even as the coach spat not a centimeter above the toe of my white, worn tennis shoes
I came day in and day out
If not to catch the practice ***** then the occasional smile of young girl—a pitying young girl, but a smile nonetheless.
The life bodes loneliness,
But to me it presents possibility.
Never doubt the adequacy of introversion.
The quiet mouth begets the much more boisterous mind.
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 3:16 AM UTC
“You ask too many questions and it makes you seem desperate”
Friends don’t really exist
But companionship persists
Every little competition is more
Than trying to only win
I have to win them all
Recreational soccer and tae-kwon-doe taught me adequacy derived from strength
Inner power makes it worthwhile
Things only matter when they’re worthwhile
It gets to the point where it becomes petty too, saying
I’m better, I have the most, the most, the more
“I’m taller,” or “I run faster,” “My life ***** more than yours,” “I’ve had more lovers,” “I’ve been to more countries” and “I will die youngest”
Compare and analyze
Texts reveal things
They don’t teach you that in public school, you have to pay for it
Money buys knowledge, mobey in exchange for truth, but neither really matter,
Years of life are wasted on propaganda and it makes me sick
Be like this, if nothing else, because you don’t know what else to be like
Control control when vulnerability strikes
But who really has more knives?
Let’s compare scars, inner and outer, to reveal who you are,
But some of these humans have their own tricks, scars on the outside to substitute the inner ones being washed away, like scratching a name into the sand with a stick, washed away, turned to steel, unafraid
Recycling elements and the nonsense of existing—learn this, be that, make money, reproduce, consume
Pretend pretend pretend
What for?
Who are you really? Really? How can you be a who? A specific person like every other,
Matter doesn’t matter matter matter matter I hear that word in my head so many times I feel like I could spend my life writing lines of it “matter matter matter matter”
Until the day I die from years of writing the same words over and over, only when the pencil drops, hits the floor and breaks, will nothing matter.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 6:22 AM UTC
Maybe it's your eyes
Or maybe it's how I wish I could trace my lips down that perfect jawline
Maybe it's your smile that makes my heart speed up a little more
Maybe it's your humor and the way you put joy in my heart
Maybe it's your apologies when you've done nothing wrong
Maybe its the way I feel as if I could write you a thousand songs
Something about you is so enticing
I'm drawn to you like the current of electricity
I wish you could see yourself through my eyes because if you could you would envision the beauty I see and never again wonder about your adequacy
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC
All too quickly, the good enough
Was gone,
And the only adequacy we fostered
Was in the way we conversed
With our tongues.
Time after time,
Words failed to consecrate our
Understanding,
Left to dangle pathetically in the empty space
Where love should have been.
And so without fail,
The inky blackness of night returned
To overtake me.
I felt my way through the void,
Tripping over our skeletal remains,
Longing for the warm embrace of the familiar.
For hours,
I sat on the front steps of the morning,
Waiting for it to let me in.
I'd come to find that it was hardly ever lonely
In the place between the darkness
and the light.
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 6:10 AM UTC
It's crazy
But I thought
You would like to see me
I think I
Know better now
Delusions of adequacy
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 10:09 AM UTC
only among poetry do you feel so
guilty having written much and read so little;
then come the chances to appreciate other genres,
and having appreciated such genres, become
all too willing to change
the genre of your expression
into something worth attention
when none was required;
such is poetry, an art of beatified
speech where there was none
to begin with;
and where adequate reading was enjoyed,
no other arithmetic of adequacy
was expressed, given the tongue's
complications of usage, i.e.
no beauty ***** joining him
for a scene at the opera, blah ha;
no tsar that met him ever left talking
about him with a feeling of jealousy -
the concert of concubines
and the nagging of the tsarina to keep up
appearances:
now watch the nagging darwin in me
with a monkey's face doing the juggling act
of ooh ooh oh ooh for the mouth's
shaping into a protruding of lips awaiting a trumpet!
blows a desire of the many sires, and hence the shipwreck
of the aristocratic hearts gathered into a populace
of a little city without silverware and serf hands
providing the chess moves of moveable silverware
for entrée, main and dessert of edibles macaroons: ah those
feasting eyes and corsets... how eager the scythe in hands
that sweated for the eyes to be so tearful and yet unsatiated
at a table of candlelight and ahem aha manners of using napkins;
i'll concern myself with courtesy when i'm able
to express myself in saxon or bavarian:
burping after a carbonated drink at the table drank...
and indeed i'll ease out a **** on my way out from
the splendour to an applause: without a necessary crescendo
of my own undoing!
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 8:34 PM UTC
Too late in our efforts
to give love so adequately,
hoping to be loved back
do we realize
what was given back sufficiently
were mere lies
for they were more efficient
and the truth was,
we were never loved
Aug 2, 2019
Aug 2, 2019 at 5:22 AM UTC
I have to stop
looking into that mirror
I memorize lines that have never yet crossed my face
I agonize over every detail of what may come and what we may become
it creeps into your mind and it's all you can see at night
when you are wide awake
and it's gnawing away at the only thing that keeps you alive at times like this-
that feeling of adequacy that washes over your bad thoughts like an ocean will wash stones clean and smooth,
she falls in love with every man she cannot help
sometimes there are moments that are simply perfect
but he's interrupting me
he is talking over me
I can smell the alcohol on his breath over the phone he reeks so bad
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 12:49 AM UTC
New age blindly falling from grace, fighting a hidden enemy
Teen and anxious once the norm now a psych diagnosis, distress taken as some bad label
Faceless facts hard to retract, flashing light world in blight, Harum-scarum analysis isn't reality
Inner truth now given to a mental sleuth, hidden truth never seen, cause and effect does it mentally disable or inadvertently enable
Swallowing knowledge left us choking, repetition offers no variation, life has no on or off switch, harder to remain stable when emotions are constantly displayed openly on the table so irrationally
Paranoid covered in a blanket of fear, selected target our mind now a part of the market, pointing at humans being inhumane part of the game, being playful becoming a lost fable
Why always recall when you're about to fall, simple shuffle of memory cards can show greener yards, following pre-plotted maps leads to another casualty
Not as bad as it appears, forget learning to simply survive, permanent pessimist, Impossible to relax when buried in facts, wasteful worry replacing meaningful ways to remain grateful
Instant diagnoses blown into multi tethered prognosis, finding middle ground when being told you're not normal or crazy leaves many lacking, losing leverage when searching for adequacy
Mass medias senseless sayings gather no moss to keep the blues ball rolling, taking fun from function, new dog and pony show, subconsciously afraid, living life now seen as something fateful
Digging our own graves, personal pall bearers for basic thought, selling freedom for an unfulfilled diagnosis, words a magic elixir, removing ways to face fear rationally
Social wisdom masking the freedom of a child to walk through a puddle instead of a lifetime of insight finding knowledge to walk around them, remembering to smile gives strength to go the extra mile, life on life's terms need not be painful. R.C.
Dec 13, 2021
Dec 13, 2021 at 5:56 AM UTC
Quiet whispering of anticipation
Like sweat covering the anxious thought
Tomorrow taking over present
What if the balance will never be found?
That other universe of mind
Unattainable vulnerability asking
For a slow dance on tip toes
Around and around and around once more
Averting the eyes not to step
On the soft spot void of essence
It is a chess game and at fault will be
The one who chose no role
Can't pave your way with honesty and kindness
Lost track of thought behind all the
Butterflies and bonfires in my stomach
The sudden heat of anger escaping
My face yet almost always unnoticed
The invisible rascal that tricks my thoughts
And escapes riding the words
Spilling off my tongue and then
Swallowed back like a cup of poison
Meant to be shared
The protector of the world from myself
Is always me in the afterthought
Erasing adequacy for the benefit of
Insecure spectator
Into forgotten chapter
Of samsara
The soothing forever
Of insight
At the end of repetition
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 1:12 PM UTC
the shame sits on the belly like the opposite of adequacy. in the yard, shirt open and tanning, the last few years have done poorly in this respect. down- hill since the incident with the knee
and the subsequent dormancy of the legs that used to go
everywhere.
i think
burning here feels right.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 2:39 AM UTC
Heated passion of childish hopes
Ice cold recognition of adult realities
Tepid normalcy
How do I reach beyond adequacy and wake myself from this nightmare?
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC
Its color sat somewhere on the spectrum between brown and gray
(Such things being dependent on vagaries of the light,
And the perspective of the beholder)
And it served as a testament
To the muted benefits of near adequacy,
Being too thin for the portentous winds of December,
And too warm for the capricious sunshine of May,
Its threadbare functionality emblematic of its owner,
Whose relationship with those around him
(Indeed mankind and his universe in general)
Vacillated between an affronted indifference
And an implacable if somewhat muted contempt,
His commerce with his fellow man,
Excepting that required to provide him
With the basics of sustenance and shelter,
Carried on in an epistolary fashion,
Through letters he wrote,
Sometimes to those he encountered on a daily basis,
More often to mankind and the unheeding cosmos in general,
Which were stuffed higgledy-piggledy into his coat pockets.
These missives were not humdrum laundry lists
Of those slights and injuries, be they petty or mortal,
But rather soaring and high-flown in nature and tone,
More kin of the sermon than the scolding,
Celebrations of life’s splendors great and small,
More often than not those he knew little or nothing of first-hand.
He’d no intention of sharing these dispatches
With the world at large or anyone in particular;
He’d simply empty his pockets once they were full enough
To present an inconvenience,
And he’d laundered any number of them
On more than one occasion,
And when he’d passed behind this earthly veil,
All but unnoticed and unmourned,
His landlady had simply emptied the contents of the coat's pockets
And consigned them to the trash,
Believing the garment barely fit for charitable purposes
Washed and given a goodly airing out,
Let alone burdened with the detritus of another man’s life.
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 3:02 PM UTC
i will never be enough, but that is okay
because i will just never be enough for you.
i will be more than enough for someone else
and i am most definitely enough for myself.
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 10:42 PM UTC