"atrophies" poems
I lived my half dictionary life before I could
comprehend compulsory compromises.
Collectors arise, disguises and devices beeping,
chastising my blindness.
Gather geography from Afghanistan and Myanmar
graciously growing gold gilded gift horses,
gleefully gloating about floating far away.
My hoof beats above concrete match my heart’s defeat
across borders and mountains
embroidering cardboard cut-outs
calling deserts, decorating front covers.
Exhaling handcrafted letters for my missing half,
half demanding highest caliber commanders and half commanding completion.
Jade jays joyfully lay arrays of bouquets
fragile flowers decay faraway
in jawbones and jail cells.
Begging farewells in a hotel’s lobby
began my hobby,
early morning coffee and carbon copies
concurringly cocky around his dead body.
Gang ciphers for cartels are
Christmas bells hissing at collars,
half dollars embellishing bar crawlers
godfathers hollering at car haulers.
Atrocities across cities attack,
attachable atrophies audibly ambush arthritic anthologies.
Anomalies begin apologies between apostrophes,
advancing autonomy arousing ancient animosities.
All eluding Antarctica,
giant frozen crests, multi-coloured ice
hidden in my illustrations
anxious for my distant half.
Friday cassettes and cigarettes
deliberately making bets following “M”.
Breaking bindings and finding “beta” in alphabet,
may feasibly end in debt.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
the sum of my parts
is not greater than i am as a whole, no,
i am not simply a collection of scars
and ******** storylines, oh,
i
am more than
the gristle and bone
the fibers interwoven through my arms
my lily-white striped clavicle
this corpse is my throne
i am not simply a ******
i am a ****** with a history
i am mauve valleys' majesty,
i am more than just my regrets
and my atrophies
and if it's not commendable, well, at least it's a story.
i,
simply because of my condition,
have lived through more than you could imagine
i have burned down in the depths with fire-skinned demons-
with messes deeper than your credit-card sins-
and i
have managed to get through it
these are my battle scars
i've fought ******* wars
and yet you shun me as if i'm not a hero
as if i'm not honorable for just making it
but i know you simply don't possess the tenacity
or the strength of wit
to deal with my ****
there's no reason to reproach
the type of behavior which keeps me alive
when i've done greater things than you ever will
stop staring
like i'm some sort of reject
like i'm something to pity
like i'm something worth nothing
like i can't recover
this is just a bad habit
and though you may find it disgusting i know i
can find worse dirt staining your mind
even if i leave this life
without a square inch of me unscarred
i have never backstabbed
i have not given in
while your inky secrets stay unspoken,
mine are imprinted upon my skin
and darling, that's all there is
if i am hateful, i will show you so
i have nothing to hide
my mouth isn't lipsticked shut
so what
if i cut
i'm still a good person
and though my battle is visible
there is nothing more around the corner
i am here to stay
so are my scars
and that's all there is to say
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 2:43 PM UTC
the voices of the sea
the whisper of the symphony
are calling out your name
and you just turn your head in shame
your hopeless hands are tied
and everything you love has died
you've thrown away your pride
and giving up now, means you never tried
you're still pulling out the arrows
of your former atrophies and perils
fulfilling this discordance
with your future purpose and importance
pulling out the arrows.
pulling out the arrows.
pulling out the arrows.
Reaching for the Surface
but you're on the ocean floor.
Praying for a Purpose,
hoping for an open door.
Scratching at the Surface,
but it's harder than it was before.
But what's the Purpose?
what are you praying for?
and you say
God, please don't let me die.
but you're
Reaching for an Empty Sky.
No one else is there
to hold you're hand and say they care
No one else will come
so give it up, you're on your own.
the forces of the sea
have trapped you in this tragedy
your belief in all their lies
has done no good, open your eyes
see the world as it is
your existence within this nothingness
as worthless as the sea
another useless commodity
you're still bracing for the arrows
of your distant atrophies and perils
fulfilling this whole prophecy
by decoding all their sophistry
bracing for the arrows
bracing for the arrows
bracing for the arrows
Reaching for the Surface
but you're on the ocean floor.
Praying for a Purpose,
hoping for an open door.
Scratching at the Surface,
but it's harder than it was before.
But what's the Purpose?
what are you praying for?
and you say
God, please don't let me die.
but you're
Reaching for an Empty Sky.
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 5:17 AM UTC
A person will make a mistake
And mistakes will create the persona.
A person will wear this fake
Guise to musk the odour.
The scent of an imperfect idea.
A spontaneous thought so mighty
As to command action without fear,
Yet atrophies in the absence of sovereignty.
The fearless becomes the fearsome;
Tactful and timid we conceive a new face.
From the angst of letting go; we succumb
To duality, tightening the noose
Around our inner gumption.
All this for an artificial reputation.
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 4:38 AM UTC
My brain atrophies
And still I wait
As if someone will
Come carriage me off
The curvature of the planet
And bestow upon me gifts
I have no title to.
I walk between the aisles
Quietly admiring the mass of produce
Bared fruits eagerly poised
Waiting to drive home in the back seat
To be manipulated and munched
And hastily shoved into lunchboxes
While the coffee smugly percolates
But the engrossed bins prove
Too bountiful to harvest—
My appetite no longer yearns
For the gifts at its feet.
I swear not only did the price go up
But the loaf got smaller
That’s all dreams turn out to be
An amalgam of juxtapositions
So we stand on both sides of the river
While trying to swim against the current
And we know
It’s much too late to still be awake
Jun 17, 2010
Jun 17, 2010 at 8:51 PM UTC
When one falls for another, they rid themselves of all they’ve gained
When the other departs from the one, the one is left with nothing
It’s a constant war you see
Like a painting on a canvas, one depicts the other's heart
“My, you’re oh so beautiful”
The other looks at the one, with a glare straight through the soul
“That doesn’t look like me”
The other’s never fooled
Solitaire is unseemly, but love can be repulsive
It is a quite common dispute for all those existing
The other’s lost absorption as the one becomes repugnant
And in these atrophies
Months are chains, not just years
So to elude this common terror, look for more than just desire
But find the great enchantment
Find the one that makes you strong
Find the one that makes you weak
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 5:16 PM UTC
bipolar dreams
you think you know about these things
how they go from right to left so seamlessly
how i go from up and down
and you’ll ever notice the change in the symphony
my instruments plays melancholy and the next a beautiful sunrise victory
some days i can laugh when nothing is in front of me
then another i'm crying until my heart atrophies
they put my on theses meds that made me my feel like my skin was crawling
my eyes appeared dry but i couldn’t stop from bawling
i feel like i have whiplash from a rollercoaster at six flags
its funny because when i'm manic my favorite color is yellow but when i'm sad its the most disgusting thing ive ever seen
i'm stuck living in these bipolar dreams
they say nothing is ever as it seems
but have you looked in the mirror and seen a black void where your brain should be
that your serotonin isn’t mixing with your dopamine
this is how your life is when your neurotransmitters don’t work properly
Jan 5, 2020
Jan 5, 2020 at 4:03 AM UTC
Once there was this little tree
Whose soul was completely free
Branches like willful souls
Fill them in tropical bowls
Whisked onto a sea of pristine canopies
The world itself slowly atrophies
Every word itself an apostrophe
Not even trying to avoid a catastrophe
Wondrous flights shape the continuum
Swallowing speech by disarticulating consonants
What will be the clouds departure
To see that the rain falls through the aperture
Come to see the creations so dexterous
With a resonant jewel in their necklace
Underplaying the quickness of the wind
Just with a dash of feeling chagrined
Aug 29, 2019
Aug 29, 2019 at 9:51 PM UTC