"aggravates" poems
That blank, white, round face
Almost filled to the brim with apathy
As I regard it from afar.
Quietly ticking and tocking
Bearing witness to us all
Almost everywhere
As if to emphasize
The impossibility of escape.
It is omniscient yet knows
Nothing
Telling us with 12 numbers
2 spinning “hands” and 44 small lines
Everything.
It aggravates me
That men thought wise in ages past
Gave power to a thing so trite and unassuming
By desiring to order the abstract.
If I were to suddenly to abandon it
I may be thought of as insane.
But how can you not be
When it is not the sun
But the beat of
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
That continually spins the world?
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 4:39 PM UTC
and it aggravates me that
i know
you don't owe me and
that i'm not yours,
yet when i see you
with someone else
i can't help but
feel betrayed
by someone
whose lips
will never
speak my
name.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 5:45 PM UTC
I’m feeling nothingness.
No giddy happiness.
No depressing sadness.
No uncontrolled rage.
Nothing.
I’m not in love right now.
I love people, I know, but it doesn’t make
My heart pump, race.
I don’t fantasize my suicide anymore.
I don’t cry myself to sleep, either.
Maybe I don’t know what I am,
Because I’m on new grounds.
I’m used to sadness.
Comfortable in my depression…
So now,
I guess I’m just numb.
Maybe a bit confused as well.
I cry when I think of someone I use to have.
I want someone to hold on to,
Someone to hold on to me.
I laugh when something’s funny.
I get mad when someone aggravates me.
Overall though, I’m plain.
Blank.
Numb.
Nothing.
Overall,
I am nothing.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 10:15 PM UTC
U gave me that leaf, & said u were never gonna leave, Cause we were meant to live, now I have to Outlive & conceive the pain of grieve,
Who are u to tell me when to meditate? Please go your way and don't dictate, I have been born to innovate, Learn from me and don't aggravate,
Why dig into my past just to excavate things and deliberate , Yet you imitate and commentate and say it irritates, Never hesitate to prostate, Cause it elevate and motivates my innovative.
Even if your silences grieve so loud in my ears, I will never freeze, I will always leave, Because I never lived, I am never relief, I can't be pleased, Even when u sneeze. It only aggravates my pain when I eat, Dats the reason I refused to breath.
How can you call me fake When that's what you are, What you are is what I say , What I have seen is what am saying..
Fake, fake, fake, Fake u are like fanta Colorful yet distrustful Great pleasure Hidden smile, Full of Fantasy, deceitful u are.
You said u were my friend, then why stab me twice and expect me to talk once, U have twined &twisted; me, Enough of the Glossy bossy, mischievous in motivation, Malicious in thought,
Why judge when you can settle to be a judge in a jungle Stop been unjustly, & learn to be justifiable,
Now it's time for u to leave , superstitiously I have lived suspicious u have been, Dangerous you have become, Unpredictable you are , You're definitely a ********* You're never my friend
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 7:24 AM UTC
Innocent saucer eyes open wide,
Sweet budding lavender laughter.
We’ll all go down-
One by one.
Silence aggravates the wreckage
Of what I used to be.
Into an abyss of false love
I’m falling.
A love that is mistaken,
Shown in the form of tender kisses
In detested secret places-
On a moldy couch
Covered in cat hair.
The crippling angst of your fingertips
Against my cold youthful cheeks-
Tracing the outline of my fatty jaw.
Slow circles of smoke escape your chapped crusting lips,
As chunks of flesh turn to rotting hostility
Against ones own body-
The bitterness of the cold turns to sweet comfort
As a lovely numbness becomes my regularity,
And emotions and physicality become one
Persisting to disintegrate-
my soul has become
a boiling bubble of spoiled milk
With the putrid stench of pillaged skin-
The devastating devouring desecration
of a ravaged--
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 4:19 PM UTC
shik-gu
the word and idea had the
power to make me tense involuntarily.
it's strange how we hurt the people
we love the most.
for a long time, i lived my life like a tornado,
not caring who i hurt. often the people in my
path of destruction were my um-ma, ap-pa and
hyung [momma, pa, and brother].
time heals all wounds or it can make deep resentments
fester. i'm glad i've chosen to walk the path of cleaning
up the wreckage of the past.
today, my family still aggravates, but see them for who they
are, people with their failings and strengths like me.
and little by little, i walk the path towards embracing
my own humanity, my brokenness and all.
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 9:01 AM UTC
Light,
The light from above has bestowed upon me the urge to dance, despite it all, all, all. A spark has spread a little fire—the music never stopped, despite it all.
Affection,
Facing slowly—affection all over the floor. Summer has not started yet, but there is heat, devotion, warmth in absence. I nod to the sun. I turn towards the dappled, bronzed skin of mine.
Jazz,
There is something ferocious living inside this four-cornered apartment, where the absence of childhood has taken half my life—but there are flowers, flowers in my head. Slowly dancing in the whiskers of the afternoon—velvety, yes, velvety notes striking the rhythm of my body. Swaying, swaying, almost lost in the murmur of the piano—the saxophone aggravates the thrill in my bones. I look up at the ceiling; colors start to swirl even more. Strings spill like liquid—smooth and endless, more and more. Conversing here and there, I am alive again.
“Turn your face towards the sun,” they say. I dreamed of my childhood, and the heat of the sun felt like slow jazz in the afternoon.
Mar 12, 2025
Mar 12, 2025 at 5:08 AM UTC
Confined to the minds barrels,
trapped inside four white, wooden walls
that wash me with light;
creating eternity. An eternity
where your face is forced forth
with splintered teeth, wood grain whispers.
Air evades my lungs
breathing in, panic, locked
away. To stay and rot. My tongue
may become a meal; I don’t need words in here.
This chambers grand design
is an endless emptiness.
My mind’s faced with this shameless
white graceless space which
aggravates my dark creativity.
This great sin in me is great and willing me
to spill the hate hidden deep.
The rays rebound perpetually. The silence
perplexes me. Perplexes me. The silence
confined to the double barrels.
Your face, perpetually, stretching its imprint
across these walls. Blurring, screaming terror.
Eyes open, burning, comfort in the darkness
learning the eyelids inner charms.
Not the vastness. Eyes open. Terror.
Tear away these fantasies;
isolations imagination identifies with my demons.
The blank space is filled with cacophonies,
agony, smiles in the emptiness stretch beyond capacity. Silence.
Whispers, these wood grain whispers splinter my eardrums.
No matter how I try to pick (axe) them out,
this imaginary pencil doesn’t dig deep enough.
I hear no calligraphy. No beauty
finds me in here, this box of light
holds my plight and creates a world where I know no night.
I hold no right, I cannot wrong,
there’s nothing left, I hold no rite,
there’s no day to escape for sleep,
no knight to bring me dreams, no left to take me to the right place,
I am so bereft of time. Am I dead?
Dying? Lying here in wait, lying to myself,
declining in health. Declining life.
The silence is hexing,
dissecting each piece of what’s left of me.
The canvas screams, it wants to know my nightmares,
to feel their bloodied paint on its flesh.
I’m the worm in the water.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
children's park
two swings
one broken
childhood memories
a desire to time travel
i know i can do it
nightfall
barely any trace of humanity
darkness
cold and clear sky
feet take me to the swing
only now
as an adult
do i feel
the infinite poetry in swinging
swinging alone
in the dark,
head up to the sky,
eyes asking for salvation from the hidden stars
give me your blue peace
take me up forever
breathe your infinite void into my soul
heart keeps hoping for a flight
eyes keep looking at the sky
soul's afraid to miss a second of the infinite silence
even the screech of the old iron swing
can't break the harmony
it's the harmony itself
it's the universal sadness
mind awakens the feet
fears return -
darkness,
aloneness,
strangers passing by
spreading more fear
with their cold eyes-
the swing stops
the illusion of reality returns-
get me home,
i feel belonging in those four walls
only when sleep aggravates on my eyes-
other times it's all about incessant estrangement...
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 1:59 PM UTC
There was a boy beside the river and he smelled like poetry. His lips watered the flowers in my tongue and soon grew infused with words and metaphors. His touch delivered a tidal wave of poetic shock that awakened my dull veins. But one night, he had his arms around me but somehow I still felt cold. And my lungs are suffocating with toxic that he hid behind his artistic mask. When he was mine he drowned me in poetry. When I was his he drowned me in salt water. My spirit is lurking in the riverbank where I first met him. There was me, above the water, my poetic veins contaminated by salt waterthat aggravates the wounds inside of me. He was sitting there by a stone, smelling like poetry, looking for his next victim.
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 9:25 PM UTC
as I lay down my head
my phone next to me
on the bed
your text
vibrates across the mattress springs
like a technological tinnitus
inside my ear
my consciousness
you want to talk
but not like that
just to make an unarguable point
guilt ridden acronyms
miss-spelt accusations
and inappropriate emojis
convey your emotions
with a twisted sarcastic humour
interlinked with your vent
you know that from the safety of 4G
it aggravates me
I’m bored with it all
too much to even reply
it would make more sense
if you weren’t
abusing me from the spare room
Oct 29, 2021
Oct 29, 2021 at 2:33 PM UTC
your egregious efforts
to impress me
in your
articulate profoundness
in order to
assert dominance over me
not only
aggravates and amuses me
but disappoints me.
because i thought you were better than that
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 4:23 AM UTC
Music, a double edge sword.
It aggravates gaping wounds;
It mends optimistic spirits.
A magic that can ascend one to
A higher plane of existence,
Or a boulder that can send one hurling
To the bottom of Dante's inferno.
A cupid that gives repose to distressed spirits,
Or a scythe that leaves a furrow in the heart of a cynical soul.
They say time heals, I say music aligns the stars,
Fuels the flare, unclouds the gloom of the skies;
Brings spirits closer to enlightenment.
I chose to embrace her, drop the deadweight,
And unlock the shackles of my heart.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 10:46 AM UTC
I Need To Make Some Change's,
This Person I'm Becoming Is Just A Mere Reflection Of The Person I Once Was.
Soon Enough People Will Recognise The Fact That I'm A Fake,
That All I Want Is Approval.
Desperate For Attention,
Physical Or Emotional,
Becoming That Every Person Hates,
Taking Advantage Of Many,
Truly Loving The Few.
I'm So Angry,
Angry All The Time.
I Struggle Not To Lose It Sometimes,
I Don't Want You To See That.
That's Who I Used To Be,
But I'm Losing Who I Am,
And The Only Thing To Fill That Void Is Me,
The Old Me.
No One Liked The Old Me,
I Was Trouble,
Unpredictable,
Unreliable,
Untrustworthy,
Violent.
I Can't Go Back To That,
Fighting Everyday,
Trying To Justify Everything I Did With Lies.
I Think It's Her,
She Has A Effect On Me,
She Aggravates My Very Inner Being,
She's Like My Full Moon.
I Can't Trust Myself Any More,
I Have To End This,
But I Don't Know How,
The Answer's Are Lost On Me.
I'm Scared,
The Thought Of The Old Me Scares Me,
All My Friends Having To Meet What I Once Was,
They Don't Deserve That,
I Must End This,
But How?
Mar 12, 2012
Mar 12, 2012 at 9:40 AM UTC
Did she love me?
Does she now?
What can I do to get her back?
Am I useless?
Pathetic and weak by choice?
Did I forget who I was?
What the **** is wrong me?
I'm tired of the questions
Never accompanied by an answer
It's just somebody's opinion
That aggravates the rage
This ******** cliche life
Is a ruined wasteland
I might as well end
She awoken the sleeping poet in me
**** now I know why it went to sleep
One answer sponds two more questions
Should I love this girl to the fullest?
Should I avoid asking her out?
How badly will I hurt her?
Will she be the one to hurt me?
Life full of riddles and I'll riddle something for you
Is a life worth living if it was never given a chance to be lived?
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 2:13 PM UTC
Forgotten souls
Lost before it was over
Sat on a meadow's hill
Taught by time.
Heads and hearts are seldom there
Taken aback by a surface
Free from shackles
Nighttime gives us that impression.
Honest in endevours
Genuine in heart.
How tuesday became thursday.
Was meant from the start.
Forcing efforts into front heroes.
Fears are not quenched.
Demeaning, aggravates.
Tears pristine.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 2:47 PM UTC
Your stubbornness
rivals mine
aggravates me
challenges me
and yet
is an endearing quality.
This independent woman
is driven mad
by your dominance
and thirsts for more of you.
Your inner boy
excited by childish joys
matches your ruggedness
that comes out to play at night.
This once modest woman is greedy
for more of you.
It won't be long
till
she'll be
left
addicted
to you.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 5:12 PM UTC
my dad, his rage terrifies me,
the way he treats my mom aggravates me,
his constant neglect enrages me,
he is a workaholic,
sexist,
racist,
homophobic,
narcissistic,
trump supporting,
white man.
with a feminist,
bisexual,
free thinking,
Liberal
Daughter.
who never apologizes for things he does wrong,
never makes time to chat with his daughter,
who never cares,
about anything,
other than,
Himself.
Mar 3, 2019
Mar 3, 2019 at 8:48 PM UTC
I am the poet
I have been whispering obscurities in dark corners for many years now
And I like it that way
I am dark and brooding
Obscure and abstract
And I like it that way
I am the craftsman
Allowing language to consume me
And I like it that way
I am impervious to permanence
And tire of fence sitting
And I like it that way
I am living the rhythm of symbolism so as to
Pawn it as wisdom
And I like it that way
I am the tactician step, step, stepping through
Through the abstract and on to you
And I like it that way
Having found that symbolism rhythm
I am weaning my way off words
Having found my addiction
And now feeling the friction
My addiction isn’t to words though
It’s to whispers
Through the journey from abstraction
And into the rhythm of this reality is
Where I consumed all of it
I even drank down the first person
With a perspective shift and a lime twist for garnish
Now it’s time to inspire
Let's put on our costumes because
Reconciling truths
Aggravates liars
And I like it that way
Oct 24, 2019
Oct 24, 2019 at 9:01 PM UTC
Sackcloth is the garb, of two men shortly to appear
They’ll be on the Temple Mount, watch them with great fear
Forty months plus two, they preach both day and night
A Gospel like no other, condemn sinners for their plight
The Little Horn of Denial, this so aggravates
What they say and preach, he really really hates
Do not attempt to stop them, they have a warning dire
Go ahead and try! On you they will breath fire
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 9:48 PM UTC
It's funny how you can live your whole life in the same place and never push forward. You'd think at some point the stillness would start to choke you but really, it's the people. It's you.
You are the problem, you outgrow your family and your friends and your love of watching the sun set rather than rise. You crave new beginnings, one-way train tickets and silence – only silence. Anything louder than the pounding of your heartbeat aggravates the creeping headache that your trusty ******* ibuprofen can't rid you of.
Somewhere along the line, who you are isn't enough.
-
Nursing new habits isn't always a good thing.
Granted, some provide you with a sense of self, a reason to wake up every day for a little while, or at least until the snow melts into the early spring grass. Some habits warm you up like a great big mug of coffee, like your favourite song, like brushing hands with strangers.
Some habits hold you down at 5am when you're still crying. At times it feels so **** good to finally have someone agreeing with you that you don't even mind what it is they're agreeing with. You're two souls in your head, shaking hands on the fact that no one would miss you if you were dead, done, disappeared.
But you don't make plans; don't need 'em. You don't grab a knife or a bottle of pretty white pills, and you don't open your second-story window to crush your skull on the stone-hard January ground. Your hour-long showers aren't ****** razor-blade cover ups. Your long sleeves don't hide scars. On some days, your mother remarks that you look very pale however, and in that moment your ******** baggy eyes do hide some secret slice of you that you'd rather not share with "the living". The unconditional love makes you feel guilty for all the crying fits, the self-addressed suicide notes and the black black thoughts.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
I hide my head under the covers and cry
I don’t want to wake my guy
The knee pain
Is driving me insane
stabbing pain while sleeping
Muffling the sounds of weeping
A clogged nose aggravates my COPD
and I constantly have to ***
Walking Is not and easy task
With an oxygen mask
My knee gives out without warning
And it’s almost morning
Another day without rest
It’s impossible to do my best
Progressively its gotten worse
I can no longer carry my purse
a total knee replacement I need
If a better life is to succeed
It took me all of the next day
To be able to get up to my dismay
It’s time to clean the families mess
I don’t mind I must confess
For I am
Blessed
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 5:49 PM UTC
My back against the glass,
I'm sitting waiting for you.
I'm cold but I can take the breeze.
I wait patiently,
my hands in my pockets.
There's butterflies in my stomach,
my hair is flying in my face.
I check and wait for the bus to come,
I see one, but it isn't yours.
While I'm waiting patiently,
I hear a knock against the glass behind me.
I turn around for a complete surprise,
there's you.
Your hand motions tell me to come,
I follow.
As we hop on the same bus you were on,
we catch a seat.
Me staring out the window,
your arm around my shoulder.
You kiss me on the cheek,
and my whole face becomes red and warm.
I feel secure,
you right next to me.
We hop off the bus to get another one,
we wait.
The bone-chilling weather aggravates me,
but you keep me warm.
Our first kiss was memorable,
people tend to stare.
You grab my ***
I grab yours.
You hand me a stick of mint gum,
I shove it in my pocket for safe keeping.
Our bus finally arrives,
it's gonna be a long trip.
The bus is crowded,
but we can't stand long.
You hitch up a seat for us,
but there's only one.
I have to sit on your lap,
you don't seem to mind.
You're in pain though,
not my fault there's no seats.
A guy finally gets up,
there's a free seat for me now.
The bus trip is dreadful,
but it's worth every dime.
We get off the bus,
we have to walk still.
Hand in hand as we go, the cold can't stop us now.
Once we're in, we're finally warm.
The mall is huge,
we walk a little, shop a little.
Those endless times of our lips touching,
we must be careful so people don't interrupt.
We grab a bite and drink,
we cuddle.
Our legs walk through every entrance,
not my fault I love to shop.
More lips are touching,
hugs too.
The sun gets weary, and dims down a bit.
We must get home soon,
one more entrance, it wont be long.
It's time to head out,
the sky paints a sunset view.
We catch that bus,
we're warm again.
Our day was exquisite,
too bad we only lasted a week.
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
Lost in the sweet feelings of gratefulness
of making love and the zeal to please
she who knows how to sway mercy from disdain
she who aggravates or sweetens my chains
mesmerizing me during sad or tranquil hours
increasing my affections with her indifference
she who holds the authority and the power
to keep account of my joys, my love, and my pain
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 6:26 AM UTC