"argh" poems
Take me as I am, please
No. Please is too understanding
Take me as I am!
Wait. Maybe that's too demanding?
I don't think we understand each other
Maybe we're over analyzing
It's just that when I look into your eyes I stop
They're hypnotizing
Stop. No. Rewind please!
But I can't, the words are out
Could you give me a backspace button for conversation
That would relieve some doubt
I want you
Argh! Too lustful!
I need you!
ACK! Too needy!
Let's just say the world's a candy jar
And for your jolly rancher I'm greedy?
No? Not subtle? Too subtle? Argh!
Why is it so complicated to speak to you!?!
I'm like a 3 year old whose trying to make a picture out of glitter and glue
And the supplies just keep sticking!
Do you understand what I mean?
I see the perplexed look on your face and...
**** it, woman, you're pretty
Ack! Rewind rewind rewind!
Stupid stupid stupid!
The only way to catch an arrow is to say you DON'T want Cupid
So I don't want you....yes I do.
No I don't!
But I do!
No I don't!
Yes I do!
NO! I! DON'T!
Look at her!!!
....okay, I do.
But you wouldn't give me a second thought if I told that to you
I mean let's face it, you're so out of my league that we're not even in the same sport
I'm playing with the tiny tikes and you're in the pro team's court
But I would be a fool if this wall was all I feel on my fingers
And as perverted as that sounds I let the joke just linger
Because you're beautiful and I'm me
And who am I to attain a girl like you
The boy whose glasses fall down his nose and is missing one or two screws
I just want a dance... and a kiss.... okay, just a dance
No, what I want from you is the guarantee of a second, maybe third glance
To see you in the hallways tomorrow and know I make you smile
To know that you affirm we danced and liked it all the while
I want to be more than wallflower material and I want the prime
So with shaky legs, a corny disco ball, and a bad song, I stand and I greet you
And ask could this dance be mine....?
Your move. Gulp.
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 9:58 PM UTC
They were all looking at the bubbles then it popped.
“Argh! My eyes! Ma!”
“I told you, you’re not supposed to stare at the bubbles when it floats right on your eyes”
“But it’s beautiful and I see the mini-rainbows while it wobbles in the sky.”
The mother and the child went staring at the bubbles floating as they fly above the orange skies.
He blew another, carefully - eyes shining with excitement.
“Look, Mom! This one is bigger! I blew it slower than the other, this one will not pop.”
The cold wind blew with the ruffling of the grass as if clapping.
The bubble wobbled and wobbled on the orange sky
Passed by the resting sun, magnifying its beauty, it glittered.
The boy’s eyes shimmered in excitement.
Pop!
“Not again!” the boy sighed in exasperation.”
He asked, “Where do bubbles go when they pop?”
She looked at him intently.
She smiled, “they become the clouds, like tiny bubbles watching over us.”
“Why would they watch over us?”
“For in time, they will know that the sun will burn our skin, then they will come as rain.”
“Well, let me make more bubbles, so we can play with You in the rain.”
Don’t Forget the Bubbles
Dec 4, 2019
Dec 4, 2019 at 3:38 AM UTC
Me: RIGHT! I DON'T DESERVE WHAT I WANT BECAUSE I DON'T DESERVE ANYTHING!
him: I never said that sweetie.
Me: YOU ******* IMPLIED IT
I never ask for anything because you always ******* say no!
Every time you trust me and I'm good you take away my privledesg
so whats there to stop me from doing whatever the **** i want?
I mean, seriously
Like, ARGH!!!
Dad: Carolyn, calm down, you need to look at this with logic.
Me: I DONT EVEN KNOW WHY I'M YELLING! THIS ISNT THAT ******* BIG A DEAL!
GOD!
UGH!
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 10:28 PM UTC
The Batman Movie (a review). The clues part was cool, but the end of it got boring. I liked that Batman kept a journal - I like the idea of men keeping journals, because, do men have many thoughts they share? Men’s thinking seems so ephemeral.
In this Batman resurrection, Pattinson’s Bruce Wayne & Batman are Kurt-Cobain-like emo and that seemed to work. Didn’t you just want to take your hand and get his hair out of his eyes? I think guys should have hair - I like hair on guys, not buzz cuts. I liked the muscle-car Batmobile.
I liked Zoey Kravitz, she was girl power, but not in a hot girl way, she had her own motivations, she wasn’t just in danger and served up to fuel Batman.
The movie is too long though. They need to bring back movie intermissions - I’d vote for that. As usual, I drank my giant slurpee and ate ½ my popcorn before the twenty minutes of previews were finished.
It’s a three hour movie. I had to *** so bad by the time the movie was ¾ over that I was grinding on my popcorn bucket to keep it in. I finally had to make a dash for the bathroom - I was afraid I’d miss the KISS scene. Argh!
Let’s talk about Robert Pattinson, the actor, and his arch from Twilight to Batman. Of course, doesn’t every vampire turn into a bat? (joke) but it’s always Pattinson being moody, being hot, figuring himself out and the introspective man - the broody man.
Are broody men **** I don’t like broody men in real life - I feel that only one of us gets to be moody in a relationship - and it’s going to be me. Pattinson seems almost zany and cheeky in RL so the brood is his method act. I Like that Pattinson didn’t buff-up for the role - I think the buffed-up muscle-man as superhero perfection somehow relates to capitalism. Pattinson’s American accent was good.
What was missing from the movie was horniness. Batman didn’t seem HOT for Cat-girl - he just stood there for her to kiss. What’s boy-girl attraction if it’s not horniness? Where has the horniness gone in movies? Sexiness is missing from ALL the superhero movies - I guess the age demo is too young.
I give it three out of five stars
Apr 28, 2022
Apr 28, 2022 at 7:02 AM UTC
Annoying Affections of mine
For reason I do not understand
For reason I should have understood
but which do not get inside my head
or which are unacceptable on my heart
I suppose that is why it is said
Being blinded by love; literally
Sarcastically; Seriously.
Annoying---- that is the exact word;
the word to describe my feelings;
my feelings which I suppose as
emotions of affection
but Annoying --- this is to her
the woman I show
my emotions of affection
Texts carrying my Number
Mails sent from my address
Phone calls with my voice
Letters with my initials
Best wishes with my deepest regards
if anything is connected to Me
My and Mine
annoying--- that is the exact word;
Argh! Annoying affections of mine!
Affectionate chills
Flames of annoyance
burns these hearts: hers and mine!
Sigh
Annoying Affection of Mine
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC
Molten Magma
There is nothing after no more
And no more after nothing
When a rock get crushed
When a mountain turns powder
When a bone is broken
When the baoba is fell
When monument burn to ashes
When the land rupture
Giving way to fiery fury
And chaotic chasm,
Then there is nothing after no more,
And no more after nothing
When the beginning takes off from the end
And the end from the beginning
And a poor soul at the receiving end of their tyranny,
Then there is nothing after no more,
And no more after nothing
When a poor soul had been poured
like a drink offering,
He becomes the cup and the drink,
He is a product of time immemorial and
disruptive transformation,
He becomes the fire and the ice,
The wind and the whirlwind,
He becomes the roaring thunder
And the thunder roaring
Argh,he becomes the molten magma,
Threatening the foundation of the cosmos
*Fell (transitive; to strike down,kill or destroy)
© Adeoye Favour I.
@Favwrites
@Favcreatives
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 6:15 PM UTC
Hide and seek,
I take a peek,
you come so near
then disappear.
I see your smile
but in just a while
I'll hide away
for another day.
the game I play
is truth and dare,
I've worn it out
like an old worn rag.
I don't know you,
you don't know me,
I wont tell
but I actually care.
It's a shallow life
and a shallow dream,
alluded hope,
illusion love,
you're not actually there-
My million pretty faces on an empty fake pedestal.
You weave through my life
like a dream
turned nightmare
turned dream
turned nightmare.
Time is so ****** short to waste it on ********
Cant you see I'm trying to find you?
How high must I build my castle?
How is it that you're so illusive and far away-
but your scent fills the room
and chokes me with sweetness?
I hate this incessant soppiness!
Argh!
My crazy obsession I try to lie and hide so well-
But it's written on my face in flashing neon colours,
desperation is so ******* unattractive!
Where in heavens name can I find myself a cheap plastic heart?
That doesn't breathe
or feel the need to heal?
If you want money I'll buy you.
If you want freedom I'll lie to you.
If you want a bicycle-
well I'm not really into cycling but I'll see what i can do.
I see so much fear in your eyes-
relationships shipwrecked-
and now you've made your mind up about the facts of life.
You've become the rock of Gibraltar-
tough as nails.
You're scary-
ready to weather any storms-
lonely-
but I still know you're soft inside...
You're just choosing the lesser of two evils-
well for now at least.
I know you still cry for your dreams,
stories that make you long,
but then you remember.
Hey! I get just as **** scared.
I mean, who burns themselves time and time and time again
without changing their formulas on life?
I do.
Dec 10, 2009
Dec 10, 2009 at 6:38 AM UTC
First see new photo, or else won't make sense.
Word is out
Animal kingdom on red alert,
No animus allowed near the chair,
Tween human and animal.
Good eats, good writes to be had,
Near that ye old adirondacke chair,
Where scribbles float in
L'air du temps,
Ripe for the plucking.
Arrived in the night dark,
Twelve eyes grinning, sheepish,
Wasn't tho no sheep, just a veritable
**** deer herd munching the shrubs,
Who when head lighted, indifferently said,
Yo ******* it is September, remember,
Get the fk off our lawn!
Argh.
Morning.
Coffee-armed. Tablet shotguned,
Went to write in the fall sun,
When to my shock n' awe,
A gaggle of geese, awaiting.
And I mean a good-god-damn giggling-gaggle, no sht!
Probably resetting, resettling, looking for forgiveness,
For ******** all over the hard scrabbled grass.
Well no atonement boys, Yom Kippur notwithstanding,
I ain't the forgiving type!
No, no poet!
We stand before you on the Jewish Judgement Day,
Decorously waiting, in a row,
Before the throne, tho honking a little rudely,
Impatient for inscribing in Natalino's
Hall of Fame, Book of Life for the coming year.
Harrumph.
Well, in that case,
(Ego melting secretly inside),
Here is a poem just for you.
Fly south safe,
Inscribed and sealed you will be,
In both the Book of Life and Prosperity,
But only if you, stay off my grass in perpetuity!
Done and off they flew,
Me smiling, proud of my new fame,
Until I found their presents
Under my flip flops.
******* deer.
******* rabbits.
******* geese.
I wish they were not such
Poetry fanatics.
Ok.
Forgiven.
10:11am Yom Kippur morning.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 10:15 AM UTC
It’s the morning of a different day—who knew there’d be another?
Lisa and I went on our harbor jog @ 5am—that’s nothing new.
It was, like 44°—we’re enjoying fall’s cold, refreshing bite.
Anyway, my mind wasn’t on it and I nearly stumbled over
a chunk of dark, uneven roadway, made invisible by its function.
Charles, jogging beside me, wordlessly managed to right me
without us losing a step and I smiled my thanks.
argh! I’ve got to get out of my head.
Later, in class, lulled by the comfort of the stiff, wooden chair, my eyes unfocused and the professor’s voice seemed to fade into the backdrop. Suddenly, he was asking me a direct question that seemed almost without context.
Metaphorically slapped back into focus, I scanned the room and the whiteboard for clues before awkwardly—walking the edge of catastrophe—bluffing it out, because, well, I’ve an instinctive reluctance to admit defeat with any sort of grace.
I didn’t sleep well last night. I had dreams—nothing with a defined purpose–just an amalgamate of bonfires and storms in a coastal scrubland with an odor of fresh cedar and a sense of casual vulnerability.
My attention today is like an intermittent pulse.
.
.
Songs for this:
Headz Gone West by Nia Archives
Dark Red by Steve Lacy
Nov 8, 2024
Nov 8, 2024 at 8:13 AM UTC
(a billet-doux to HP)
4 minutes til (virtual) class
“Dang”, I think. I need to post today's poem!
I paste the poem, the title, the tags.
I have the sense that once the page says “saving draft” I’m *******
So I quickly press save.. and..
502 bad gateway
“Argh,” I say under my breath, glancing at my clock.
I press refresh.
Do you want to submit the form?
Of **** course I want to resubmit - I press submit.. and..
502 bad gateway
“Oh my f-king GOD!” I yell at my iPad
I press refresh.
Do you want to resubmit?
Yes, yes, YES- I resubmit, I submit, I supplicate, I grovel.. and..
502 bad gateway
2 minutes
I scream a line of obscenity that would **** the Pope if he were here.
I refresh
One of my roommates inquired, “Are you ok?” from her room.
I resubmit and.. and.. and..
“Yes!” I yell, to reassure my roommate, “Website issues,”
it finally, finally posts.
A “Whoom” sound announces the start of my virtual class.
Feb 14, 2022
Feb 14, 2022 at 4:13 PM UTC
Hurricane Mathew
I ask a third or fourth time,
When is it supposed to hit?
I ask
one second time later
But it's the
New day
Not a one
And not a
crucial
piercing
blue day
A simple tiny little
You
Day
Reformat
My mind from memories
Thinking then
Then the thought
making steps
a bit more pleasant
Healing the try and burning the gauze
For a brighter
(And th3n)
purified future
The outcome father,
Has me quoting melodies
Closing my eyes
So that now I am seeing
My childhood's house burn
I chew the candy now
Pink...
... moving lobes
Moving...
the boys scratching your newly
(Insert ****** possibly insectuous) painted siding
And that wasn't remembering
That was
(Or is it now)
Over and over
And it's over
Oh so oh oh
I mix my mediums
You've made a mistake
I mixed my mediums
Betrayed by blood magic
A sequence of sounds
The pen
A barn
And my
((And mine alone))
Crystallization
.
I wondered once
And surfed
I lied once
And shivered
I woke up
And spoke once
A pool of blood
((Nurses telling you))
It's a lot of blood
And the drummers shake
My death
My . .
I wish to say
My pen leaks
Wish and pray because of Saturday
So today I stay
A madman
Oh...
so
mad
Man
Breathe wind breathe .
Breathing.
Win.
Win but breathe.
The shorter term breeze
And you'd say (I hope)
There he goes again.
Argh she blows.
Again.
And I continue this
A death without
A death tasting oh but so foul
Picture me as I stay asleep
A microphone's pop
Ad
And the sweetest feeling of kissing me
Not knowing
I cramp too soon
And I hide
bug poison
In my thinning hair
But what is that?
Virulity is
And power....
And all of this....
It is abracadabra
It is alakazam.
Life is a few minced words..
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 9:08 AM UTC
I heard the door open. It was Leeza (Lisa’s 14-year-old sister),
she’d been out on a date. I was the only one in the living room
as she came in and sagged, dejectedly onto the huge, white
sectional couch, right next to me. She looked positively
deflated. Which is unusual because up until now,
she’s been all freckles and smiles
Ok, here’s where we get poetic and rhyme, with innuendo and allusion:
Me: “Did you have a good time?”
Leeza: “No but I was trying.”
Me: “Did he get handsy—the swine?”
Leeza: “Argh! No—but his kisses are a crime.”
I gasped: “You didn’t give him a climb!?”
Leeza “NO!” she said, somewhat horrified.
Me (trying to be neutral): “No judging, it would have been.. fine (I lied).”
Leeza: “That’s never going to happen.”
“Good,” I declared, “he was just a distraction—and, you know Santa.”
“What about Santa?”
Whew, that’s enough of THAT (rhyming business).
She asked, so, yeah, I sang it.. I had to.
*“He knows who you’ve been kissing,
what you’re thinking when you’re awake,
he knows if you’ve been bad or good—
he’s kind of like a cop that way.”*
After a moment's silence Leeza asked,
“Is there something creepy about that?”
“Only if you think about it.” I admitted,
as she put her head on my shoulder.
.
.
A song for this:
Fairytale of New York (feat. Kirsty MacColl) by The Pogues
.
.
A Christmas Playlist! There’s 6 days til Christmas (and Hanukkah)
http://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_25.mp3
Dec 19, 2024
Dec 19, 2024 at 12:14 PM UTC
Am not sure if I genuinely like you
Or its the alcohol talking
In my sober mind the thought of you thrills me not
Yet when I'm intoxicated all I want to do is say something to you
I'm pretty sure I'm drunk
Coz otherwise I wouldn't have texted you
They say alcohol makes you brave
Brave enough to say stuff that's on your subconscious mind
More like brave enough to do something stupid
I don't know...I can't tell
Coz am drunk
Ask me tomorrow, perhaps I'll be able to analyze it
Argh who cares
It doesn't really matter
I'll just toast it up
Drink up to my subconscious mind
Coz at least I still have one... Right?
Show me the text tomorrow so we could have a good laugh.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 12:07 PM UTC
Gloom rocks back and forth in that old rickety chair,
Weaving a noose in her lap when Perfection draws near
Singing a song of cheer.
"Hello, Gloom!" he greets.
"Hello, Perfection." Gloom greets.
"What may I do for you today?"
"No, Gloom." Says Perfection,
"What may I do for you today?"
Gloom sighs. "Well,
Your fingers will do well to weave this noose for me,
Won't they?"
"Aye! They will!
They will knot a noose so fine and well
It will be the finest noose ever woven!"
"Well, yes,
I suppose so.
Here, the noose.
Have a seat,
While I go to snooze."
And upon getting the noose,
Perfection weaved...
And weaved...
And weaved...
"Curse it! No good!"
I must unravel this!"
And unravel this, he did.
And his fingers went to work a while.
"Ahhh...look! A piece of fiber!
If not perfect, I will be seen a fibber!
I'll weave this again!"
"And again!"
"And again!"
"Oh, no!
Not quite yet.
Argh! my brow has broken a sweat!"
Time and time I have spent!
Why will this noose not be perfect?"
"Oh, Gloom...
Her work imperfect be
And now mine alike.
Oh no...
I cry. I cry.
I'll tie this noose and die!"
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 7:05 PM UTC
A bottle of white...a bottle of red...perhaps a bottle of rose' instead...…
A bottle of red, a bottle of white...Whatever kind of mood you're in tonight…
Thank you, Billy Joel for the prologue…
I am literally swarming with the urge to hurt myself tonight.
My skin feels like bugs are crawling all over me.
I'm barely breathing.
Right now I am tense. I am frustrated. I am angry.
I have a migraine. I feel out of control.
I can’t breathe.
Argh!!!! I want to take 10 Ativan
And wash them down with a bottle of white & a bottle of red,
But I don’t want to deal with the side effects tomorrow.
Seeing that my head hurts already,
I should probably refrain from adding bountiful amounts of sulfates to the never-ending ache. Breathe. I’ll give it an hour.
I would think that if they can make glasses in about an hour,
Surely I can talk myself in from this ledge.
I just need to breathe.
It’s that simple – freaking breathe!
I’m sure I’m rambling now…I'm just trying to ride this out.
I just need to breathe.
GD! Shut up about the breathing!
I'm trying to breathe.
God, my chest hurts right now.
It feels tight, constricted – that’s why I can’t breathe!
Okay.....think…what will help?
I wish I could hear your voice right now!
Tell me to freaking breathe!
Remind me where I am!
What the hell am I sitting on….I’m not hot or cold.
But my freaking chest hurts!
Still trying to not go down the “dead-end street of self hatred”…
Trying…trying…that’s all I can do, right?
Try. Breathe.
Trying to understand why?
I seriously need to puke.
And I want to cut myself.
But instead I’ll go shut myself in the pantry and scream into a kitchen towel.
I need an escape and I want to go away right the f@#k now!
From what?
Frustration – anger – fear- no one listening to me?
Is anyone out there?
Nope – all I hear are the voices inside of me.
Nothing else!
Just the freaks inside of me who won’t shut up!!!!!!
I’m breathing….
Okay!....
I’m freaking breathing!
I am exhausted.
I have zero energy -
There are dishes in the sink
And I’m too tired to do them
(tomorrow morning when I have to look at the filthy mess in my kitchen,
I’m going to beat myself up about it).
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 7:27 PM UTC
Me man,
Me strong,
Me work you all night long.
Me no fear,
Me not queer,
Me is primal
Me is....
Argh, no WIFI!!
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 8:28 AM UTC
You know,
The frustrating thing
Is that almost all
The good poetry
Comes to me
In the night
I try to sleep
As newer and newer
Pieces
Loudly
DING ****
The doorbell in my mind
Then, of course
My body is inclined to roll over
And my hands are forced to
Pick up my phone
And
Begin typing
...
Argh!
What must I do to sleep!?
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 12:06 AM UTC
Small things dispensed with a shrug that make most people cry and rock.
Groping around at each other mentally,
Hold me lightly,
hold me tightly
random minutes of total understanding,
as we plead mendigas,
Things unexpected
from the people the world know.
I can't remember a word
you spoke to me that first year
Except that you loved me
Argh!
I remember telling you
you never spoke to me.
You laced your way
around the delicate fabric
of time to give me
this period of leavening
as we travelled different directions,
your gift of ages.
A love so large and hope as thin as a filament.
A broken heart is no small thing.
As I try to shrug.
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 2:54 AM UTC
leave the tv on switching channels every minute
for something you have not seen,
then lose the remote somewhere in the bed,
now, you stuck on an infomercial for fulfilling
a need you did not know you were needing
play ka-glom, an older version,
of candy crush
while not watching tv,
but hearing the sounds as warmth, comforting
read poetry, write some,
trivial sit puff stuff,
like this or
stuff about suicide - argh
and every pandora ballad
rhymes with everyone sad
poet up to take a ****
visit the vast emptiness
of the refrigerator cause
you ate it all, and was
consumed thereby
The two concessions to
Pretend
is you leave her side of the bed
undisturbed
and the lights off
and when she calls
and asks how ya sleeping,
you say fine, for what else
can you say,
you already wrote
so exquisitely,
re life without her here,
sad mad bad
the boss knocks into your chair,
around three in the sleepy afternoon,
thinking
"that boy, what a party animal!"
ain't that the truth...
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 3:12 AM UTC
You're pretty and you know it
using those glassy eyes to tame -
my heart's suckered 'n you know it,
post-sex love purely (surely?) to blame
my mind melts as I grow weak at the knees
your gaze flitting from sultry to predatory -
blood gushes, adrenalin flushes
sweat dripping upon my skin lust-crazy, expectedly
oh I'll burn these nervy butterflies
with this blistering searing fury,
argh, stop this Pretence girl
'cause it's just starting to bore me -
*Mind Control to Inner Soul;
"what's your status?"
Inner Soul to Mind Control;
"help! The guts are dead and the heart is fractured!!!"*
my body slowly dying, polluted sick
with the caustic affection you instil
*"WARNING; cytoplasmic deterioration imminent -
extreme psycho-bitch overkill!"*
for now I know I must give up the chase
the Neurones have received a final transmission (oh please no, it can't be);
*"This is .. Inner Soul to Mind Control..
we're all so tired.. so tired .. so .. sleepy - - -"*
CLICK
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 6:30 PM UTC
You
Why did you do it
Kiss me and tell me you like me
Spend so much time with me
Make me like you so much
Just to turn around
And I don't know
I saw her
The girl you called babe
I would have waited
As long as you needed
Been here as your friend
Regardless of what happened
But I feel betrayed
You said you liked me
But called her babe
WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 8:23 PM UTC
If you want to sing out
sink in
and if you want to be free
be tin
cause there's a million waves of bees
you know that there are
you, no, thee that argh
you oh, you know, you are there, where there are airs, where there are errors pushing out heirs.
Were are the children they said were the future, and yet we are already over with, and the ones they follow, claiming to be all new, look and act like the ones who came and went before we were born.
So what?
Should we sweat it?
Does it really make us to be called the best or the worst, last or first?
She was a girlish woman, a woman, who was past the voting age.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 9:52 PM UTC
Blah Humbug
blah
blah
blah blah
climate
change
argh
argh
argh ooh
****** chango
Cop26
Cop that
Cop out
by Jemia
Nov 5, 2021
Nov 5, 2021 at 10:26 PM UTC