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"assuredness" poems
Whenever I'm around my family, I get this low kind of feeling. My family is full with the kind of people that become vps, investment bankers, nurses, lawyers. me: little ******** that smokes **** calls himself "a writer", and doesn't like to have long conversations about his future. I am not one of them, I am not a black sheep, or a black pharmacist, or a black lawyer. I am something that wants to become something, when I am unsure of what that something is. A continual rebirth of somethings likening myself to God with so much internal creation. This is malignant to my family's ideals of self-assuredness and placement, brutal placement in America.
0
Nov 23, 2011
Nov 23, 2011 at 5:18 PM UTC
Family.
****** Bag in sunglasses donned indoors where fluorescent sunlight cannot justify the obfuscation of haughty eyes so the visage is one of pure pretension and cockiness, dichotomized as self-assuredness and the colloquial term for the phallus, a literal **** (I see him strongly in the memory of a high school field trip returning home school bus late night he sits sideways back to the window head leaning back sunglasses donned smug grin I rendered him the vessel and the scape goat bearing my burning hatred for the inflated ego wrapped in an undesirable chic I deem deplorable, hate hate hate) Smug grin, I wrote this poem from a bean bag in the corner of the library third floor whilst wearing sunglasses and a taste of irony on callous lips twisted in an invisible sneer.
0
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 7:50 PM UTC
A Taste of Irony
Your use of words of late, I have noticed, seize the cold light of day snowball the pack ice send a shudder down the spine hail the dawn of an audible ice age lest if only One would listen that loquacious nature left to stew in the freezer the embodiment of toxic wine your preferred after taste; the sediment of choice demands a selective palate we have bulldozed The Garden of Eden now only the Snake remains offering the bitter-sweet apple to those who oblige pave the way for emotions to argue their objections a subjective nature in acerbic tones fierce and unwavering; the adulation of the Other A raised eyebrow denotes a self-centred assuredness that anyone else with a deft hand for art or language is clearly a copy of the blueprint your ingenious creation; such is the intellect you abide by that of your own reckoning Your argument is the passing of an iceberg perhaps fleeting the early evening; the disingenuous melt of your carbon-cloaked temper My riposte will be your undoing defeat by the warmth of the passing Sun; embrace that which you chase see what you dont see agree to disagree is the sympathy for your antipathy
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Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 1:52 PM UTC
Agree to Disagree
Bathtub music and drums played on the surface of Davy Jones's mirror: the ceramic holds the sea, the sea, and all within it: ***** me. Scrubbed you off my skin again for the umpteenth night in a row. Row row row our boat away from the constant, constant rows. Stormy arguments and weathered mistrust. You'll break me, won't you? I'll break you, won't I? Won't you come drown with me Ariel? Won't you come up with me to the kitchen and lock up the door then lock up the oven then lock up ourselves in carbon-monoxide poetry? But then how does cooking gas end up as sass in a library? How did sustenance turn into asphyxiation?  Why are our hands on each other's throats instead of being binded by the absoluteness, the certainty, the assuredness of palms within palms and fingers interlocked and question marks dispelled. Splash! as way in and over my head is the bathtub music and my absorbent curls are drinking, drinking, drinking, thinking about the why you only call me when you're drinking, drinking, drinking; thinking about the way I cannot suppress you when the cellphone has long gone quiet and your Hughes of blue are still loud but your red is dead. Ariel, Ariel, I want to be your dark-haired prince. Ariel, Ariel, my country is landlocked but I still see you in the sink. Ariel, Ariel, gurgling away as the bathtub music fades into ugly brown rings around the ceramic pause button that shows no hope of continuation Ariel, Ariel, you are the final splash! as the false sea drifts away, the final splash! that scatters bathtub music past the drain and into the air. Ariel, Ariel, you are the false rain that my landlocked country never prayed for. Ariel, Ariel, toneless, begotten and forgotten Ariel, Ariel. I cannot sing for you. I cannot. You will not sing for me. You will not. The final splash! past the drain and into the air is you Ariel. The false rain. The rain song of our endless games.
0
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 10:02 AM UTC
Rain Song.
Bathtub music and drums played on the surface of Davy Jones's mirror: the ceramic holds the sea, the sea, and all within it: ***** me. Scrubbed you off my skin again for the umpteenth night in a row. Row row row our boat away from the constant, constant rows. Stormy arguments and weathered mistrust. You'll break me, won't you? I'll break you, won't I? Won't you come drown with me Ariel? Won't you come up with me to the kitchen and lock up the door then lock up the oven then lock up ourselves in carbon-monoxide poetry? But then how does cooking gas end up as sass in a library? How did sustenance turn into asphyxiation?  Why are our hands on each other's throats instead of being binded by the absoluteness, the certainty, the assuredness of palms within palms and fingers interlocked and question marks dispelled. Splash! as way in and over my head is the bathtub music and my absorbent curls are drinking, drinking, drinking, thinking about the why you only call me when you're drinking, drinking, drinking; thinking about the way I cannot suppress you when the cellphone has long gone quiet and your Hughes of blue are still loud but your red is dead. Ariel, Ariel, I want to be your dark-haired prince. Ariel, Ariel, my country is landlocked but I still see you in the sink. Ariel, Ariel, gurgling away as the bathtub music fades into ugly brown rings around the ceramic pause button that shows no hope of continuation Ariel, Ariel, you are the final splash! as the false sea drifts away, the final splash! that scatters bathtub music past the drain and into the air. Ariel, Ariel, you are the false rain that my landlocked country never prayed for. Ariel, Ariel, toneless, begotten and forgotten Ariel, Ariel. I cannot sing for you. I cannot. You will not sing for me. You will not. The final splash! past the drain and into the air is you Ariel. The false rain. The rain song of our endless games.
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51
Ah, once more a day in vacant rays A webbed window, cracked gently to let the breeze by. Through, a minute an hour, a bee lands on a flower succumbing to desire, a move with a purpose It’s assuredness I admit breaks a chunk from my confidence What is what isn’t what could what couldn’t Is of no concern to a bee, imagine how free that would be A beetle crawling up the bark of a tree, Oh, just for an instant I wish I could see the life that you see!
0
May 31, 2021
May 31, 2021 at 8:34 PM UTC
Just For An Instant
Cruisin' the highway of life Nothing can get in my way Radio up, tunes I adore I couldn't ask for anything more Suddenly, I start to swerve Euphoric poison jostles my nerves I'm losing control, and I can't feel Somebody please take the wheel It started as a bit of fun The race unfinished I had won Soon enough I'd sense false glory Would I live to tell my story? Somebody catch me, I'm falling Harsh realities now appalling Don't you know I could be bawling Instead these words I'm duly scrawling A million projects unfinished Sense of time diminished Sentiments overdue Self-assuredness gone askew Perhaps the most productive time Still I would rather be just fine Than pacing, racing, sleep deprived Just glad I made it out alive In the midst of all this rambling I'm sure glad I'm not out gambling Not for money, but survival Bless my sanity's revival First came the ocean's bottom Next, the top of the world Then, I was numb, dead Now I am myself instead At first it was a paradox I couldn't understand Drugs meant to resurrect me Could render me so bland But that was just a phase The gilded Age was brief Not long 'fore I could smell fresh air Salt's not a stealthy thief The seasons change Friends come and go But I outlast And won't let go To anyone who's in a bind Keep fighting, see it through There's sunshine once the clouds are gone It's waiting there for you. post nubila phoebus
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Apr 18, 2012
Apr 18, 2012 at 2:57 PM UTC
Post nubila phoebus
Something that existed Before nothing Made something From nothing In seven days Then fooled a man With a snake And a woman Then flooded something And made it Nothing Then gave us something A spirit And a son Who was God Or was he? Raised from the dead Then nothing For two thousand years Except a book In another language From another land And you believe That's alright But what does that have to do with me? The law Spoken from your lips Demanding tithes Judging Preaching Witnessing Praying Laying hands Faith healing Speaking in tongues Evangelizing Lifting up Right Wrong Fear Yeah That's a lot of talk But what does that have to do with me? Born of the same man But not the same Mom Separated Sent away Living in the desert Believing in miracles Of a ****** birth Of ascension from life Further revelation The final prophet And you believe That's alright But what does that have to do with me? From nothing Something Primordial soup A fish A monkey A man Then death Then nothing And you believe In nothing That's alright But what does that have to do with me? Which miracle should I believe? The miracle of a God? The miracle of life from nothing? The miracle of my life? The miracle of yours? How can I be sure? How can you? Yet you are And I am not Your assuredness Leads My skepticism Follows The more you believe The less I do Why must I be like you? Are alms not enough? Stop shaking my shoulders Stop telling me I’m going to die Stop telling me I am not chosen Stop telling me only idiots believe in God Stop I met you forty years ago Then again And again Each time A difference face Each time With the same message Believe Don’t believe It never changes So stop Please I've heard it I've thought about it I've felt it You cannot reach me Only I can reach myself I know how bad I can be I know how I hurt others I know my capabilities I know my limitations I know I need to forgive And I know how I feel I know Ok? So you live As will I Let me follow my path It will be unspoken I cannot tell I will not tell Maybe you will see Maybe you will know So As you follow your path While disapproving of mine And you find yourself Trippin' Because you were judging my way Instead of living your own You might ask yourself What does it have to do with him?
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Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
What Does It Have To Do With Me?
Something that existed Before nothing Made something From nothing In seven days Then fooled a man With a snake And a woman Then flooded something And made it Nothing Then gave us something A spirit And a son Who was God Or was he? Raised from the dead Then nothing For two thousand years Except a book In another language From another land And you believe That's alright But what does that have to do with me? The law Spoken from your lips Demanding tithes Judging Preaching Witnessing Praying Laying hands Faith healing Speaking in tongues Evangelizing Lifting up Right Wrong Fear Yeah That's a lot of talk But what does that have to do with me? Born of the same man But not the same Mom Separated Sent away Living in the desert Believing in miracles Of a ****** birth Of ascension from life Further revelation The final prophet And you believe That's alright But what does that have to do with me? From nothing Something Primordial soup A fish A monkey A man Then death Then nothing And you believe In nothing That's alright But what does that have to do with me? Which miracle should I believe? The miracle of a God? The miracle of life from nothing? The miracle of my life? The miracle of yours? How can I be sure? How can you? Yet you are And I am not Your assuredness Leads My skepticism Follows The more you believe The less I do Why must I be like you? Are alms not enough? Stop shaking my shoulders Stop telling me I’m going to die Stop telling me I am not chosen Stop telling me only idiots believe in God Stop I met you forty years ago Then again And again Each time A difference face Each time With the same message Believe Don’t believe It never changes So stop Please I've heard it I've thought about it I've felt it You cannot reach me Only I can reach myself I know how bad I can be I know how I hurt others I know my capabilities I know my limitations I know I need to forgive And I know how I feel I know Ok? So you live As will I Let me follow my path It will be unspoken I cannot tell I will not tell Maybe you will see Maybe you will know So As you follow your path While disapproving of mine And you find yourself Trippin' Because you were judging my way Instead of living your own You might ask yourself What does it have to do with him?
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132
When assuredness won't slay its enemies, and determination forgets its ardor; the wind the leaves lets fall, the water its surfaces harden.
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Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC
Moving In
her name rung out with a chime her heart beat in pantomime her body reeked with surprise her soul rested deep in her eyes her hair flowed with silky shine her squared smile had become mine her lust was only surpassed by passion her hips and gait always in fashion her mind bold and on always fire her lust for thought my prime desire her touch a golden tip of grace her beauty rested quietly in her face her loyalty thundered at every turn her devotion never ceased to burn her way of placing anything at all her assuredness all did enthral
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Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 10:03 AM UTC
quintessential woman...
part one: everybody needs somebody to love; to adorn with plastic ornaments; to say they feel lost; and mean it; a real love: feelings of assuredness. believe me, i am sure. part two: gasoline heaven lines nostrils- and the brain- and the hands and heart it controls. the pockets, too. is it sad to realize and not care? that the pockets and the nostrils- and the steel strings (and their haunting reverberation)- and pencils to paper- come before true, and honest love? part three: no bodies left behind, or given away for the future. no turpentine- no poppies- or silk. no illegalities; rule breaking; infidelity- a simple desire to be an artist and the sacrifices an artist makes only to fail and continue to yearn: failure
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Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 2:23 AM UTC
mood
You run your hands I run my tongue Hands tangled in my mermaid wish you were here hair I've got a mouth made for bruising With your flashy kick stand made for using Between you and me who needs three? Pushing me down with rough assuredness I never did take orders well though Flipping over, landing face down exactly where I am needed Now who's song splashes off of white washed walls? Please. Gods yes. Just like that. I want to tell you to blow it all over my tonsils My face. Stomach. Chest. Any where you want But I don't Instead I increase speed Not as soft and easy as I seem Rough palms cradle a well made skull One last ****** **** A hissed name on begging lips My tongue swirls around your most sensitive ridge You shudder and pull away Kissing me softly, tasting your appreciation on my swollen lips
0
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 9:01 PM UTC
What Some Mouths Are Made For
Blue shirt I can’t trust a boy like you. Sectarian sympathiser, driving brothers apart. I see a glint in your eye whenever I lean in for the unanswered kiss self-assuredness is your favourite amuse bouche. Nice with a fine wine tastes a little like shellfish. Picpoul de Pinet for a girl that’s hardy on the outside. Just when I am starting to turn purple on the lips you breathe air into me and hide again. ---------- Believe me, there’s red in these veins and flames in my lungs. Your eyes eye me up, river blue. Chip fat and *** smoke make out for a foul cloud but girl, you’re the pearl of the night. Your mouth is the glossy phone I should answer, wanting love on a tongue like a pillow of wine. When you grip my shirt, expect to connect, I end up pouring out puddles of nothing, your lips apart like violets.
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Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 10:41 AM UTC
Blue Shirt (Collaboration with Molly)
When they ask I’ll say I didn’t go anywhere Because I didn’t believe I could I’ll tell them that my hollow promises Although, tethered to good intentions Were only a chasm of misdirection I will speak on how our appetite Wasn’t an insatiable craving Rather an agent of dodging our realities That the bounty of gifts and Assuredness of future company Cannot abate the 13 hundred miles When they ask I’ll say That the madness of two Wasn’t sacred or shared I’ll clue them in on how Connections are opaque And being ironically self-destructive isn’t fun anymore I might say that I knew you But you forgot me Because there’s well-dressed guys in every college town.
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Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 12:10 AM UTC
When They Ask About You
When I was 11, my best friend told me that they were gay. Their eyes were glazed with watery doubt and their voice quivered to the same pace as my trembling heart. I prayed for seven hours that evening, begging God to cleanse them of these sins that I didn’t quite understand to be wrong but that my mother and father and sister and aunt spat out like deadly poison. When I was 11, my best friend told me that they were gay. And I screamed words that I learnt from my family, words that felt ***** and disfigured in my mouth, words that had no meaning that I could decipher. When I was 11 years old, my best friend told me that when we watched Harry Potter together, when our friends drooled over Cedric Diggory, they fell in love with Hermione Granger When I was 11, my best friend told me that they were gay… and I didn’t know what the word meant. Just that it was awful and demonic and that they were going to rot in hell. At the tender age of 11 my mother’s religion eviscerated a 7 year friendship. When I was 12, I realised that it wasn’t God I worshipped, it was the feeling of belonging. I idolised my Father’s radiant smile and my Sister’s reverent voice, her face raised to the heavens and her song echoing across a stained glass chapel. When I was only 12 years old, I discovered that I was a slave of my family’s beliefs, and that I didn’t understand what my religion even was, only that my aunt liked it when we clasped hands around a dinner table and that my gran reminded me to recite the same words before bed every night. Pretty words like ‘glory’ and ‘heaven’ but also malicious words like ‘temptation’ and ‘evil’ and ‘sin’, words that I, with a shudder and an almighty stab of guilt, remembered saying to my best friend at 11 years old. When I was 13, I was angry. A furious cloud of space-black smoke swirling in my stomach and pulling on my tongue, until I was a silent and malevolent storm. When I was 13, I realised that if this is what being close to god feels like, then I would rather burn in the raging pits hell, surrounded by the same billowing barrages of blackness as those inside of me. When I was 13, I found out what gay meant, and I sobbed and howled and screamed. Inside of my own head. When I was 13 I apologised to the person who was once my best friend, and with eyes glazed with watery defiance and a voice quivering with nothing but assuredness I told them ‘me too’. And we clung onto each other promising to never let go.
0
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 5:10 AM UTC
Charmolypi
When I was 11, my best friend told me that they were gay. Their eyes were glazed with watery doubt and their voice quivered to the same pace as my trembling heart. I prayed for seven hours that evening, begging God to cleanse them of these sins that I didn’t quite understand to be wrong but that my mother and father and sister and aunt spat out like deadly poison. When I was 11, my best friend told me that they were gay. And I screamed words that I learnt from my family, words that felt ***** and disfigured in my mouth, words that had no meaning that I could decipher. When I was 11 years old, my best friend told me that when we watched Harry Potter together, when our friends drooled over Cedric Diggory, they fell in love with Hermione Granger When I was 11, my best friend told me that they were gay… and I didn’t know what the word meant. Just that it was awful and demonic and that they were going to rot in hell. At the tender age of 11 my mother’s religion eviscerated a 7 year friendship. When I was 12, I realised that it wasn’t God I worshipped, it was the feeling of belonging. I idolised my Father’s radiant smile and my Sister’s reverent voice, her face raised to the heavens and her song echoing across a stained glass chapel. When I was only 12 years old, I discovered that I was a slave of my family’s beliefs, and that I didn’t understand what my religion even was, only that my aunt liked it when we clasped hands around a dinner table and that my gran reminded me to recite the same words before bed every night. Pretty words like ‘glory’ and ‘heaven’ but also malicious words like ‘temptation’ and ‘evil’ and ‘sin’, words that I, with a shudder and an almighty stab of guilt, remembered saying to my best friend at 11 years old. When I was 13, I was angry. A furious cloud of space-black smoke swirling in my stomach and pulling on my tongue, until I was a silent and malevolent storm. When I was 13, I realised that if this is what being close to god feels like, then I would rather burn in the raging pits hell, surrounded by the same billowing barrages of blackness as those inside of me. When I was 13, I found out what gay meant, and I sobbed and howled and screamed. Inside of my own head. When I was 13 I apologised to the person who was once my best friend, and with eyes glazed with watery defiance and a voice quivering with nothing but assuredness I told them ‘me too’. And we clung onto each other promising to never let go.
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12
I am not all the things my words make me out to be. While my tongue clucks of bravado and strength my eyes search for the easy way out. I tell tall tales of how I've gotten by by the skin of my teeth by my own daring and will but the enamel is worn thin from the nights I spend chewing over the moments I wasn't ready for. Every day the sun passes over me is another day spent passing idle conversaton of what I will do one day, only if, never when. If I speak to those who construct their sentences with actionable words with authority with that self-assuredness that theirs is the correct path, I find myself wondering when the day will come that my own words will shape the person I say I am. When will I be the person I say I will be? Not until I write my own story, instead of listening to those of others while wishing I had a story to tell.
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Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 11:44 AM UTC
My only stories are about vulnerability
I seek the secret ways and longing lost secrets the stability, the assuredness in the answers. I had them all for you. “How does it work?” I will tell you, sweet Love under white sheets and behind draped curtains Certain, I am certain in the endless possibility of you and the world of space and all the places we occupied One time Sick and sad you asked me again, “How does it work?” I held you the entire night to see you through the storm and into the morning All the questions–– I gave to you answers In my own mourning when I held myself the white blacked out the gray and in the empty bed I wondered “How does it work?”
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Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 6:30 PM UTC
How It Works
A previous apartment An old town Nothing but silent buildings and hollow walls Yet my mind equates these Empty spaces With memories of freedom With feeling alive So I start to yearn for their physical presence And once I'm there I feel disappointed Because although I'm where I used to be I'm not the same as I was And that sense of self-assuredness That sense of relief I'm seeking Doesn't live in the drywall and clean pavement It lived somewhere inside me then And I'd like to believe that Somewhere deep down It's still alive Just waiting to resurface
0
Feb 27, 2020
Feb 27, 2020 at 10:30 PM UTC
Chasing Old Feelings Won't Fix This
Vanity supplanted the setting sun, moonlight trails then called our finer points we only had to have foresight to cast our truer selves. Walking with the assuredness to unblink the rays of self assurance.
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Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 5:22 PM UTC
Thinking by the wayside
In the vastness and void I am just a grain A particle The grand opera plays Through comedy and tragedy The world applauds While the speck observes While the sands of time wash over me Ignoring me For I am minute Solitary Brief All my endevours All my labours Are fleeting and insignificant While time resumes And power waxes and wanes The glorious bedazzle the stones The audacious stand, for a short while Then fade Just like me Yet In my moment I know I feel I love No grain could have such passion as I Could ask the questions I dare to ask Could seek beyond the familiar To embrace the unthinkable And taste the unknown This grain lays upon a hazardous shore Where tides and fauna hold sway And the grain does not deride or decide But acquiesces With quiet assuredness This grain does not struggle to be known Does not beseech the approval of the universe For in me are all the majesties and mysteries of life And for me This tapestry dances And I rejoice And I sing For one brief second A song A melody of life Such as can never be heard from the rock mass Upon the waves of oblivion, of uncertainty I flounder One grain On the vast shore of existence Awaiting the builder's loving craft
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Jun 3, 2020
Jun 3, 2020 at 5:36 PM UTC
The Special Speck
My heart beats in a frenzy, Uncontrolled and clinging to fleeting pride, I wish upon a star, to give me confidence, to give me assuredness, for I feel it has never been felt before~ Truly, in a way my pride is not corrupted by narcissism. Because deeply, As my lungs soak in air and my head spins irrationally, I feel how sanity seeps out of me. I am left with a pit of empty aspirations.
0
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 8:28 AM UTC
Wish Upon a Star