"agitates" poems
A blackening morning bleeds and deepens
the opening of iron lungs. Paperweight
bones threaten gaiety and the smell of sleep.
Such sadness pours inward, it has chosen
the wrong body as cold folds over the world,
so it feels real, stained frost in vacuous black.
The pure leap of malignity agitates
the interior of a woman's red heart,
melting like embers.
In the sulphur, words dry while water
slides down. Drips and thickens.
Gaping hole exposed- too early for the dawn.
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 12:53 PM UTC
sand exasperatingly tickles skin
as waves roaringly crashes upon it
a deafening wind agitates hair
as it rumbles through air
in all its chaos
I find tranquillity
Dec 9, 2020
Dec 9, 2020 at 2:59 AM UTC
it drips from the bottle
and into your
mouth
which spouts words
with no regard for my
feelings
that you don't know how to address
without alcohol kissing your
lips
that form sentences
with a mind of their own
uninhibited by their flattery of me when they were
sober.
it agitates your face
as it rests in your
hands
that used to hold mine and it
glazes over your
eyes
that used to light up when they saw me
or when they heard my
name
that you can hardly stand to speak
without alcohol
dancing on your
breath
that doesn't render sounds
without cheap courage summoned
up.
it depresses your
mind
that I used to find intriguing
as it was paradoxically
kind with a quick
wit
that no longer aims
to make me laugh
but is now restrained by the liquor
label
that you plastered to yourself
without concern -
would you even stop
if your own bottle said
please?
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 5:02 AM UTC
1.
The light that agitates the equator
bounds across your southern frontier,
and being higher in the wage scale
enables trips there to be easier
than the odysseys of those passing
away in the opposite direction.
Where once bandaged soles went
now many machines tie the stitches
between the divides where once again
bandaged souls will traverse.
2.
Our footprint will be larger than life
and beat the earth to an abstract plain.
Where once many names were needed,
our editorial, read as obituary, will need few.
It’s a recursive gesture to prune in order to grow
but who’s hand truly closes the symphony?
Here I find legumes, tubers, a display of sage
and a cold comfort in my palm.
The perfect chicane of the fern’s stem,
tributaries unfurled, reflects in the plastic bucket.
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 4:37 PM UTC
When pain escalates, your mind excavates
It entertains and agitates the best of your worst thoughts
Thinking while you sink
Sinking while your mind attaches links to other links which create memories
Vile memories that participate in your habit to erase them
To remove them
By ripping them from your mind with force
Using the high of that blatant eight ball as your source
When pain escalates, your mind begins to deteriorate
As you ligate your mind frame with a plateau of mistakes
A gust of emptiness floats uninvited through derailed spaces
Generating issues on top of issues
Imminently transforming you
Fabricating you as two addicts in one body
Two addicts in one mind
Two addicts in one soul
The mind excavates on the level of your thoughts
It digs deep
By means of unique technique
It leaves your heart weak
Like a fading light in the middle of the dark
It'll pull out your distress with raised instructions of defeat
Then attaches a link that involves a ghost that sets your mind a bit free
A bit free, a little empty
The voices go quiet for a time
Your heart can now slow down as your mind continues to unwind
The high of it all makes your body want more
Reaching into your subconscious
Making you believe you need more to be cured
Sinking while you think, your mind provides solutions
Excavating while you sleep, your heart decaying from contortions
Contortions happening in your mind and soul
Contortions that have the ability to leave you body a bit sore
Masking the fears of this uneventful detour
Cause when pain escalates, the mind excavates
It entertains and agitates the best of your worst thoughts
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
When your conscience's clear like crystal
You set them off-balance,
For when they see you, and try
ever so hard to find faults in you,
All they see is themselves.
Because you are clean fresh dew!
Pure like sunlight; you act as a mirror
for the soul of the onlooker,
And so, as they peer into you looking
for deceit and dirt,
their own face stares right back at them,
ugly truth gloriously unfurled.
Your open goodness
irks them, agitates them, provokes them
to claw at you, use their might, to
destroy you and all that's right,
but little do they know that you-
are Invincible. Beautiful. Resilient.
Birthed from struggle.
Tempered by truth.
Chiseled by principles.
Challenged by adversities galore,
haven't you always conquered them all?
So shine! Shine with all your brilliance,
and no one can break you,
for your conscience is your greatest wealth,
for your conscience is your Kohinoor.
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 2:14 PM UTC
I'm sick and tired of catching flak for other people's actions.
Just because I'm timid doesn't mean I have more power over other people,
it only signifies a level of discipline attained within myself.
I am tired of being lectured on behalf of others and their indiscretions;
they are not my mistakes to reconcile.
I am tired of being a middleman for the melodrama
of my fellow spoiled Americans.
I've tried to mitigate, but it only agitates both sides
so I say **** it. They're your issues now."
I hope you made good use of my efforts,
because now they shall no longer be imparted in this regard.
My patience has been abused and worn thin;
not just by others, but also by myself.
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 4:25 PM UTC
Just as the moon getting closer agitates the waves, He got too close and angered the waves of her heart. He hoped for a piece of his soul to calm her tide but it was too much and she wished him gone as the waves spit the moon back out into the sky. While the rising sun found two sets of footprints, the path they were taking was separate from each other.
Mar 28, 2020
Mar 28, 2020 at 10:49 PM UTC
Light breeds shadow
In the form of fear
Consuming my immortality bit by bit
Creating a fiend
That guzzle up my happiness
Till the deepest core of my conscience
Remorselessly
Piecemeal
I am dying from my own trepidation
That agitates me
Whether to choose malevolence
That is sweet and warming
Or to choose benevolence
That is pain and suffering
Only the saint's heart will find its way
With the least tainted loopholes
Gifted by the brute to the paradise god has created
Destitute and feeling obselete
Failed to be absolute
I seclude myself
To a silence so deafening
And the temperature is dropping
While the loneliness is creeping
In fetal position
On this oversize king bed
With blue bed shed
But no blanket
Vainer, i thought.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 10:29 AM UTC
Hey baby, it’s three in the morning
Time has just flown by without any warning
But I need to get my daily dose of you
Before I have caught a love flu
Like a medicine? No, more like a drug
Embracing me like a gentle warm hug
One dose puts a smile on my face
Two doses steal my heart away without a trace
But how it torments and suffocates
When I can’t have it, it agitates
Yet the more I am used to its bittersweet
The more I need to consume to defeat
I would breakdown if you take it away from me
As you can already clearly see
You are the drug that I abuse
The remedy to my sickness as I deduce
So please, if you are not harmful to my body
I would like to maintain this dangerous harmony
Getting addicted is not an issue
As long as you are the one that I cling to
Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 10:24 PM UTC
Spears aviate above our gaze.
Souls begin to depart
Encompassing our moment,
But it is slipping, as is my reality,
As is your consciousness
I had known the depths of ocean.
Understood every numinous word.
Prepared my death and planned my life.
Each question accompanied by a definite answer.
But in those speckles of green,
Cryptic water flowed into my ocean,
Spilling over the barriers,
Rushing into the fields of grain,
Carrying unknown parasites wanting to feed.
Sliced.
I knew this sound, this feeling,
The blood that would spill,
But your skin agitates my pulse.
A tenderness that I had destroyed,
That I can never experience.
I will never known those hands,
Or call them my own.
I have created my own demise.
Metal continuously clashed,
Yet I lay watching your somber departure
Envisioning a hopeless unison that could never arise,
An act the devil had surely commissioned.
Your raven hair fluttered,
And I closed those eyes.
Eyes that have become ingrained
A permanent scar, stemmed from intolerance.
A never-ending history repeats.
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 11:16 PM UTC
you remain at all times,
in my mind, not so much
a whisper but more of
a dull scream that i cannot
stiffle, even after years of
relentless practice
at times, in the night,
i awake frightened,
sweating, my mind
bloated with the fear
that maybe you ****** up
again
my eyes sore from
raining in my sleep
i reach out to touch
anything that might
assure me that it was
only a nightmare
& that you have
not just yet embarked
*on yet
another
suicide mission*
before, these dreams
were my reality &
you never seemed to
be able to keep the
two apart for very
long:
*the sleep,
the bills,
the ***
the drugs,
the drink,
the endless charade
of doctors, bottles,
& new clothing*
i watched in awe,
petrified by terror
but
despite the promises,
despite the progress,
you are forever hell bent
on sinking & leaving
no captives alive
you remain in my mind
at all times, breeding
anxiety, like spores
spreading their cancer
they are going to
eat you alive &
you let them
willingly
how can i carry that in me too?
i fear, maybe
you have contaminated
me as well :
to have absorbed you,
repulses me & i'm forever
purging these feelings
******* full circle
my anger, my void, my mind
bloated with memories of your
half-shell & filmsy pharmaceutical courage
*you were eventually swallowing
everything you could devour*
your consumption : horrifying
at least, before you
pretended to be full
dollar, appointment =
attention, satisification
if only temporary
now, your eyes lie flat,
you have become absolutely
nothing & it's the something
that rots my joy & agitates the
the demons you've passed on
still,
i ran away but you are never far,
the telephone brings your
contagion, manifest in words
i hear it in your voice
i cringe at the dial tone,
i tremble when you pick up
what bad news now?
at 15, she said she hoped
you would just die, i never
had the courage to agree:
preferring the slow boil;
the one that encourages
the fungal growth of your
disease. it takes root
everywhere.
you put me at dis-ease woman
die or don't.
antidote or arsenic?
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 8:07 AM UTC
There's this itch I feel
but haven't figured it out yet;
is this a drive to speak for the unspeakable,
or an urge to spill words like blood from a wound?
There's this itch I feel
but haven't figured it out yet;
is this a trigger for a wreck that is to come,
or a spark of idea from a wicked mind I can't own?
There's this itch I feel
but haven't figured it out yet;
I can't scratch it like a card, gambling for a prize,
nor can I treat it with alcohol, poured on rashes or drank in a rush.
There's this itch I feel
but haven't figured it out yet;
it clouds my visionless eyes, naked or on lenses
it agitates my trembling hands, I can't smunpew.
Dec 21, 2018
Dec 21, 2018 at 10:51 AM UTC
the San Carlos slum is his home
he roams disconcerted
through the squalor and filth
his owner Pedro Alvarez
long since abandoning him
forlorn this poor creature
trudges aggrieved
he rolls in the debris
and ******* strewn upon the streets
seeking relief
for any consolation
that can be had
his skin agitates
discomfort occupies
his miserable days
no peace is his
incessantly scratching
the itch reoccurs
the coat he wears
is patchy and disheveled
it's hard for this poor dog
no pride
a truly shameful fate
not loved
or attended to
his mange the only constant
this is his life
searching all the while
his paws work overtime
yapping barks
with grimacing impatience
Pedro where are you amigo
your dog Egardi
needs you here and now
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 8:51 AM UTC
As the washer clinks and clunks its way toward clean clothes.
I sit and think while listening to the rhythms of the machine
as it cleanses all. If it could only cleanse my mind of random
thoughts of nothing, that seem always to get in the way.
To clear a path to thoughts of substance, paving the way to
literary greatness, or at least a word that wiggles itself into
some mediocre write which I know shouldn’t have made it to
someone else's eyes.
I need that garbled clump of goop that feeds my appetite for
writing, as it dislodges remnants of times gone by, things that
are shaken loose from deep within my soul, while it agitates
and spins me in new and different directions.
It is what life has given me to work with, an abundance of
good and bad, new and old, fresh and stale, with a vehicle for
me to climb aboard to explore the deep recesses of my mind
and soul. It seems that vehicle stalls at times and hesitates
before it is able to start again and continue on its way.
To take me out of this non productive place I’m in, to that
crisp clean white piece of paper so my pen will flow to places
it’s never been.
http://www.charlesdennispoetry.netne.net
© 2009 Charles Dennis
Dec 31, 2009
Dec 31, 2009 at 4:11 PM UTC
MOTECUHZOMA
They say the first, inchoate age of man
Met its demise by monsters from the earth,
The second, brought extinct through violent winds,
The third by fire, the fourth by worldwide floods.
This fifth and final age, as we all know,
By earthquakes’ rampant motion shall dissolve.
And yet, who could foresee this cataclysm
Would find its epicenter in this room?
For now my oscillation shakes the realm,
My rattling teeth, my quivering, palsied hands,
The fearful quaking of my feeble knees,
So agitates the contents of the earth
To pitch its crust in spasms to a wrack,
And crack the planetary fundament.
Ach, what a bandied shuttlecock I’ve been!
But from henceforth, by heaven’s crowded hall,
I’ll shake my feeble fears, or rattle all. Exit.
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 3:49 PM UTC
Phantom like arachnid crawl
Ghostly apparition
Descends bedroom wall
Silence
The silence is deafening
As she hangs
Practically materialized
He tries to run
But cannot hide
Cannot move
Paralyzed
Yet his eyes stay wide
Anticipation
Morbid fascination
Voulnerable prey
Trapped in a sickly
Sticky straightjacket
Its color akin
with spun Moonlight
Maddenig
He struggles and squirms
But not for long
Incapacitated by the silence
Succumb to her sting
Gifted the kiss of death
As wind agitates tree leaves
Blackness envelopes consciousness
Mind folds down
Around exhaustion
Eyelids weary, head too heavy
Weathered hands grasp
But his last breath escapes
tired lungs
Tangles into the breeze
Ascends higher, without hesitation
To agitate trees leaves
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC
From the day I met you
I knew you had something in you
That would make me smile
Without you doing anything
I never thought I would think about you this way
That I would care for you
That I would cry for you
That I would fall for you
That I would actually write about you
That I would dream about you and me
I fell hard
It made me both happy and sad
It hurt a lot, of course
You were there to catch me, but not to keep me
I couldn't complain
I couldn't demand anything from you
I couldn't ask for anything more than friendship
And it's alright, because that's where we could last longer
Just like what one poem said
"I know what we are, and I know what we're not"
And that's alright
Having you in my life is certainly more than enough
What makes it difficult for me is the fact that
I am the person who's always unsure of everything
But when it comes to you, I am more than sure that it is you
Whom I want to take the risk for
Whom I want to give all my efforts to
Whom I want to take care of
Whom I want to love without asking for anything in return
My friend,
It irks me how your impact in my life is very much intense
It agitates me how you can do nothing yet for me, it's more than everything
I hate how I get jealous over the little things when in fact I don't have the littlest right to be
I hate how I love you and how I am willing to do anything for you
Just to make you happy
And make you forget the burdens in your life
But this I promise you,
I will always be here
To listen to you and hug you so tight
Whenever you need me
I will be that friend you can always run to
I will be that friend you can always lean on
"And if you ever forget how much you really mean to me, every day I will remind you"
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 9:26 PM UTC
i'm writing this in between
after that bad bad dream
it felt like I was nailed up
as I struggled to wake up
my body paralyzed in bed
i couldn't help but dread
as cold wind touched my nape
my vellus hair stood up straight
that sense of eerie crippled my core
as i felt his coming to my door
then i heard some little footsteps
and creaking at the hinges
i clasped my body so tightly
as i saw death coming to me slowly
my brain searched for that nerve
to shake up my senses to leave
i felt my leg made a kick
then, I stood up pretty quick
my heart agitated
as i grasped one deep breath
then, i stood up pretty quick
my heart agitates
as i grasped one deep breath
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 6:42 PM UTC
So when I walk through that door
Will you greet me?
Smiles and spitted lies that will pass
I remember when you said that you would miss me
But now that I have grown up
I now know that there’s no fun
In going home to a mom
That talks nothing but ******** about me
She’s always telling me to grow up
Yet she is stuck in the same little ******* rut
That agitates the **** out of me
So which direction, ******* mother, should I go?
Tell me if you think that you know
This heart that beats inside of me
That tells me what I can and can’t be
Will not take instructions from the
Worst ******* mother I see
So now that I have figured where I’m going
Picking a direction and not knowing
Whether I’ll ever see you smiling at me
So I’ve left you with my brother
Left him with the mother
That I never really knew
But one day I know
That every day he’ll show
More intelligence and potential then me
So goodbye for the last time
Remember that I’ll be fine
Like I always have been
So if we meet again
I hope we can be friends
And I hope you’ll see the better side of me...
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 1:23 PM UTC
Cattle’s rear by men
Ask for less yes grass and water
Fulani herdsmen in my country
Agitates for too much for their cattle’s
Their taste for human blood
70 gallons the last they drank
And innocent yokes of unborn fetus
Sat there my over 70 president
His hand fastened to his chin
All he can do is chew his cud
And cows coup and cheerfully moo
If we all die who will eat their beef
I can smell the blood of my brother
Wasted on the map of Nigeria
Do you find rest in the Aso Rock
While many continue to die in cold blood
KUVAR
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 6:40 AM UTC