"assessor" poems - Hello Poetry

When one is forced to stop drinking, the first thing felt is shame. It is recognition that coerced abstinence was inevitable. The court told me No alcohol and I said Okay. An assessor of the state told me If you picture life past 30, you stop now: he might have added For the longevity of both you and your relationship(s), but it might be his own history stopped him. The morning I crashed my car was not cold like today. Suburbs are generally quiet at four-thirty; runaways choke-chain drooping eyes to a bedpost for a few more fickle hours, hoping (praying) body keeps pace with hunger. I was hungry, and we went to get food. My brow beats ripples into the airbag. In county my sheltered white life was a blanket doused in gasoline. The sheltered white mind may scream but the sheltered white body cowers under concrete. In class I was assured Alcoholism runs in the family. The gene plagues Hendrix men as a curse of choice. It's a gun in a knife case. Six months sober; it still itches. I'm still hungry. The state told me I was *Lucky [I] didn't **** someone*. I was selfish. I was selfish because I thought they meant me.

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Jan 6, 2018

Jan 6, 2018 at 1:43 PM UTC

christopher-hendrix

State of Missouri v. C.A. Hendrix

When one is forced to stop drinking, the first thing felt is shame. It is recognition that coerced abstinence was inevitable. The court told me No alcohol and I said Okay. An assessor of the state told me If you picture life past 30, you stop now: he might have added For the longevity of both you and your relationship(s), but it might be his own history stopped him. The morning I crashed my car was not cold like today. Suburbs are generally quiet at four-thirty; runaways choke-chain drooping eyes to a bedpost for a few more fickle hours, hoping (praying) body keeps pace with hunger. I was hungry, and we went to get food. My brow beats ripples into the airbag. In county my sheltered white life was a blanket doused in gasoline. The sheltered white mind may scream but the sheltered white body cowers under concrete. In class I was assured Alcoholism runs in the family. The gene plagues Hendrix men as a curse of choice. It's a gun in a knife case. Six months sober; it still itches. I'm still hungry. The state told me I was *Lucky [I] didn't **** someone*. I was selfish. I was selfish because I thought they meant me.

1

The impact assessment by the assessor of impacts detracts from the initial impact. You can't unbomb a bomb and when it's dropped it's gone. This is like unkissing the kiss and 'the Kiss' is something one should never unkiss. The tower. I fall into it, climb up just a bit sit and decide if I want a better view because we're never satisfied with the things we get into or up to and I go through life like this, unkissing the Kiss.

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Jun 6, 2015

Jun 6, 2015 at 7:41 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Damage control

The impact assessment by the assessor of impacts detracts from the initial impact. You can't unbomb a bomb and when it's dropped it's gone. This is like unkissing the kiss and 'the Kiss' is something one should never unkiss. The tower. I fall into it, climb up just a bit sit and decide if I want a better view because we're never satisfied with the things we get into or up to and I go through life like this, unkissing the Kiss.

27

(20 minute poetry) Eccentric? I can be, a composition of me and him and anyone else that found their way in. Generally speaking, I'm a model citizen that goes about his own business taking no heed of the madness that feeds on street corners or of the dogs that **** up the lampposts and trees, he's a model citizen too, Airfix I think and stuck together with glue. We're all flaming citizens in a country so critical that you can't pass remarks unless there's 10 or more likes on your social media page. Eccentric I should be in this wack community or would be if I could get in. Madness they say is curable, I find it okay but uninsurable, the risk assessor prides himself on figuring the odds, but won't take a risk on the outcome. I'm here now where everything ends and being sent around the bend is just an occupational hazard. a bit like asbestos or Paraquat, It all turns to poison in the system.

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Feb 25, 2016

Feb 25, 2016 at 2:24 PM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Echo chambers

(20 minute poetry) Eccentric? I can be, a composition of me and him and anyone else that found their way in. Generally speaking, I'm a model citizen that goes about his own business taking no heed of the madness that feeds on street corners or of the dogs that **** up the lampposts and trees, he's a model citizen too, Airfix I think and stuck together with glue. We're all flaming citizens in a country so critical that you can't pass remarks unless there's 10 or more likes on your social media page. Eccentric I should be in this wack community or would be if I could get in. Madness they say is curable, I find it okay but uninsurable, the risk assessor prides himself on figuring the odds, but won't take a risk on the outcome. I'm here now where everything ends and being sent around the bend is just an occupational hazard. a bit like asbestos or Paraquat, It all turns to poison in the system.

17

there was a time when I carried a light in my eyes bound together and stacked so high my soul was carried through the highest of skies then in one mass motion it all collapsed to the depths of the ocean am I the reason for all of my mistakes am I the one who has built these walls i fear for what I will become when the earth begins to shake I'm building up these walls making sure they stand tall just so I can watch them fall hoping that one day these walls that I have built they will stand for something greater than keeping the flood waters out but to control these internal flames the ones that I call guilt for if I rebuild what I have torn down I prove to myself to be a transgressor in my mind i am ****** to an eternity of negativity with nothing but the darkness as my assessor

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Mar 7, 2016

Mar 7, 2016 at 11:16 PM UTC

hollowembrace

he who built // destroys

there was a time when I carried a light in my eyes bound together and stacked so high my soul was carried through the highest of skies then in one mass motion it all collapsed to the depths of the ocean am I the reason for all of my mistakes am I the one who has built these walls i fear for what I will become when the earth begins to shake I'm building up these walls making sure they stand tall just so I can watch them fall hoping that one day these walls that I have built they will stand for something greater than keeping the flood waters out but to control these internal flames the ones that I call guilt for if I rebuild what I have torn down I prove to myself to be a transgressor in my mind i am ****** to an eternity of negativity with nothing but the darkness as my assessor

21

FREQUENT FLYER Playing a part in public domain can others see what the others contain We stay or play, manage to be together, will the others anguish remain hidden forever Gravity keeps us grounded lessons make us well rounded,what is in place to keep us sane Softness and safety found in sanity,gradually removed with too much pressure Being kind to the mentally blind may not come naturally, our own inner truths maybe not as easy to maintain Many feel madness often hidden in the gladness,not noticing cracks in the glass ,will it shatter with the next stressor Dare we simply say to another deal with it when the deal has already been done,to late to just refrain Which level do we fail the test aren't we normal if doing our best ,not always our own best judge however Games people play by letting the mind go astray,something missing or just gaining weight from the strain Reaching out, often too late but what is left brewing when we wait,time makes its own judgments but out in the open will we be our best assessor .R.C.

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Mar 27, 2018

Mar 27, 2018 at 7:19 AM UTC

wichitarick

FREQUENT FLYER

FREQUENT FLYER Playing a part in public domain can others see what the others contain We stay or play, manage to be together, will the others anguish remain hidden forever Gravity keeps us grounded lessons make us well rounded,what is in place to keep us sane Softness and safety found in sanity,gradually removed with too much pressure Being kind to the mentally blind may not come naturally, our own inner truths maybe not as easy to maintain Many feel madness often hidden in the gladness,not noticing cracks in the glass ,will it shatter with the next stressor Dare we simply say to another deal with it when the deal has already been done,to late to just refrain Which level do we fail the test aren't we normal if doing our best ,not always our own best judge however Games people play by letting the mind go astray,something missing or just gaining weight from the strain Reaching out, often too late but what is left brewing when we wait,time makes its own judgments but out in the open will we be our best assessor .R.C.

11