"backburner" poems
It's funny:
Until now I couldn't imagine dependency on substances.
I didn't know how to imagine addiction.
Couldn't imagine a Routine in Smoke
But for the first time I got just to the edge--
went only a bit beyond.
And then I forgot.
I forgot to worry
my head like a puff of cottonwood
I didn't even have a backburner on
Simmering the responsibility
the inability
the fragility
of my self.
When I woke up it was back.
I had worry rushing to fill my head because it had
to make up for Lost Time.
and i wish i never had to stop Losing Time.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 1:35 AM UTC
it's only deep in the night when my mind wanders most that i ponder why another night of drinking alone is the status quo. it's when i wonder why the wheel that started spinning so long ago keeps spinning, in the same direction and general speed. deep in the night is when the doubts and regrets run rampant like rioters through the square, flipping cars amidst flaming tires. it's when the needs and the wants clash for supremacy, assuring the mutual destruction of each. loves lost carve their names into my neocortex. where dreams unrealized fill their time by playing ping-ping until they're ****** from the backburner to manic importance. deep in the night is when blood-shot eyes and blaring computer monitors have a staring contest. deep in it, thought becomes reaction and the beans spill accordingly. knee-deep and we're ravaging the calm into frenzy and burning the books of our beliefs and abandoning rationale in favor of the spectre of immediate gratification at any cost, at any loss. deep in the night where no light penetrates, things become somehow illuminated.
Jul 10, 2011
Jul 10, 2011 at 12:41 PM UTC
My anxiety is the dream of a knife
almost a romantic fantasy of something physical that
could cause me the pain or discomfort that really
is just coming from my self
from some thought that I’ve swallowed or stumbled into or onto and now it’s mine
I cannot escape it.
Now it’s my burden and the choices are
to feast on it
or to ignore it until its white noise boiling on the backburner is all but a noose around my neck.
The laughable, socially acceptable third option is of course
the bottle of red or
the little white pill
from the purple bottle
exchanged from the pink slip
handed over by a worried lip.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 1:42 AM UTC
They bring with them the baggage of men
the lost children attempting pathetically
to recreate the aura of time long gone.
If you discount the roughness of skin
travel past the thick hedge of beard
penetrate the silt on the eroded eyes
you can delayer the hardened coats
and get to see faces barely recognizable.
Some were once too close to be missed
their names and all
but most you could hardly recall
and it agonizes your thought
were they in the same class or not.
You smile till your jaws ache
fetching stories from the blue
dazzlingly colored and half true
for they are all in the mood
to joyfully succumb to falsehood.
You could tell from the body language
who's in the backburner
and who on the front page.
Forty years break and make men
but they feign happiness
to be united again.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 11:55 AM UTC
I told you after I ate all those wild mushrooms
"I will kick that bowl over...I'm sorry, but I will do it and I don't know why I can't force myself not to."
And the bowl tumbles over, and out spill all your secrets and emotions.
I didn't expect the carpet to soak you up so easy.
You're sinking in like water in skin, an IV drip with ivy grip
I got no reason to fight this, but it's gonna happen.
So I stand here listening to you unravel yourself
And it starts slowly, like your hair falls out
And then your nails begin to peel back
And your skin disintegrates into human ash.
Your muscular system falls off like wraps from a mummy
And then you tumble apart.
So here I am, I told you I would do it,
And I did it. And I didn't want to.
Because now I am picking up all the pieces.
Do you have any idea how long it takes to put a person back together again?
This is a lifetime project.
I have to put it on the backburner.
Otherwise I'll starve to death, because hilariously enough
We live in a place where we must pass the buck,
Like some other things...
Enough. I don't want to last here
I don't want to keep myself in a state of hypocrisy
I haven't had enough time for change
As drastically
As I hoped to have done
I haven't
Had
Fun
In Years
So much sorrow for someone so young.
I feel dumb
Sort of like a dream
Asleep but I can't see
Only hear the random speech
Muffled like I'm in the deep end
Listening up.
I haven't had enough
Yet
But I don't want any more.
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 2:00 AM UTC
Killing robots is fun
spending time going through the waves
all the noise of machines around
then that one noob joins
who goes pyro with backburner
i say kick him so we do
then a gibus ****** joins
we say *** go back to boot camp
so he does
and then a scout joins
we start the wave
he misses 102 credits
kick that guy too
then "he" joins
412 tours and unusual hats
australium weapons shining in our faces
we go through the waves
and win
hooray for us
we get robot parts
and killstreak fabricators
then that one guy
xXSniperPro69Xx
gets
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC
By Abpoetry
Tired of being somebody that goes above and beyond,
Tired of being a pawn,
Tired of the everlasting ignorance I get from women,
I'm in a different arc now , that should be a villain,
Furthermore *** is genuine to you?
Weighing out all the options for your dream guy,
Might hurt you,
Tired of being looked at based on level of attraction,
Or not making transactions,
"Oh he don't got car keys or tattoos, not for the taking",
I been said it,
This generation's cooked for our race in fact,
We'll dead it , this **** is pretty ******* stupid anyway,
Backburners , the only thing women will put me on,
Birdchirpers , they'll say you got your incel turned on,
No apps , no friends , no lies , selflove only prevails.
Feb 17, 2025
Feb 17, 2025 at 9:04 PM UTC
A desire for something that I had been thinking about for quite sometime.
Only to be put on the backburner.....due to not having time.
The thought bombarded me day by day......whispering for me to decrease the delay.
I had some errands to run and picked up a few things for dinner.
I stop at the aisle and hear you whisper my name. I come over cautiously at first. This is not where I'm supposed to be.
Although...your sweetness and ingredients continued calling me. I picked you up and we walked to the line together.....the thought of us hooking up later made my mood a whole lot better.
Upon arriving at my home....I removed you from your place of rest.....there are others present....but you will get the honor first.
An oatmeal raisin cookie and milk has satisfied my desire and quenched my thirst.
My inner cookie monster satisfied his need......"Me want cookie!"
So...that's how the story ends. A trip to the market to satisfy an unseen friend.
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 3:01 AM UTC
My friends say
Just put her on the backburner.
I don't think my stove is big enough.
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 8:09 PM UTC
If I called all of your bluffs out loud,
we’d be here for months, and
my voice would waste away
to a bitter nothing.
But I need these pipes, and
ain't nobody got that kind of time to spare.
So I’ll smile and quietly
call each of those bluffs to myself.
In gentle whispers, I’ll trim the fat,
and slowly examine the parts of you
that make sense.
I’ll soon notice that
my salt pile’s used up from taking a pinch
with each and every thing you say.
I would replenish it, but
I’m feeling too cheap, and
it seems the rest
of the sweethearts out there
need those grains more than I do.
Don’t you worry though—
this kind of cheap looks good on me.
See, I am so sick of being thirsty
and aching for that
truth
like
honey.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
We meet, I obsess
I wait for a text, end up barraging them with more
I overthink myself into a crazy stupor
The cycle continues on.
I tell myself to stop
It's one more thing for me to think about
It's one more situation to waste my time
The cycle pauses, then restarts again.
Everyone knows about it because I tell them
I stop myself with metaphorical duct tape
I rip it off and tell everyone anyway
The cycle has no ending once it has begun.
This is the mistake I constantly make
I feel clingy, even though I probably am not
(But I am, so it is fruitless)
The cycle rotates in the backburner, a solid reminder.
It’s not a crush, it’s just a shortlived fascination
I declare my love, as I do for countless others
Masochism is apparently inbuilt
The cycle goes on, an infinite loop of repeated thoughts.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 12:26 AM UTC
I bit my nails down to a nub
Am I a ghost? A long forgotten
Memory, eased into your backburner, well
Oiled with the sweat of my lust?
When may I emerge from the
Shadows and proclaim that my
Love may be silent, but
It screams so loud in my ears.
Hey, I am hurting here!
Can you put down your life for one
Moment and just sit and justfucking
Listento me?
Or perhaps the image of myself I held so dear is
Now a killer, destined for
Damnation along with all the other
Souls that murdered everything they touched.
I swear, I didn’t mean to.
But it all just crumpled in my
Hand like ashes and I tried to be delicate, but
I pressed too hard.
I wanted to know if it was alive.
I wanted to be sure that this
Love was real, and not just some
Plastic penny-box letter.
I cannot escape for you.
These bars bind me down and
These walls close me in No
Matter how much I runorrun
Or run into them they won’t
Budge.
Please, just this once?
Maybe, this time if I am strong enough they will
Move
And I will taste freedom
Please **** them
Every single one'a'em ********
I'm gunna shootemdead.
Gunna gunnemdown
We is gunna get ourselfs happy, fer once.
Issa great game, this "life" thing.
Nov 1, 2011
Nov 1, 2011 at 9:25 PM UTC
We are firefighters you and I.
Fighting back a blind hot fire.
You, because of our impossible situation and the Other.
Me, because of my impossible situation and your Other.
I'm trying to keep my fire low and starving, or only a faint glow even,
but a whiff of air is enough,
enough to set my whole existence on fire.
Lay homes in ashes if not drowned or extinguished.
I'm grateful...
you keep your fanning breath of air
a swift tickling breeze for my sake.
Keeping your flare out of my flammable hair
but God, I want to burn so badly
I want to flame high, white and hot.
Not allowed to do that though....sadly...
I want to explode in a firestorm.
Consume everything in my way.
not listen to what they'd say
Turn everything into sorrow and ashes.
Let my heated tongues of flame lick you,
until you too is burnt to pieces.
Burnt pieces of charcoals
that I'd keep in my heated heart.
A charred smoking reminder
of how devastating this fire of our love is.
How ugly to all that is beautiful and true.
Once letting my fire burn free there is no taming it,
no pardon, no wit
So, thank you my love!
For not fanning this fire
with more than
your flammable existence
It is oxygen enough.
I've lost all resistance.
So, thank you my love!
For not doing it my way.
Not letting me lay
my world in ached ruins.
It doesn't seem fair,
but let me slowly suffocate,
Turn your love into hate
make me choke and gasp for air.
A faint flickering flame
Pitiful and tame
As my fireman, put it out while you still can...
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 2:24 AM UTC
A hangnail that ends beyond your cuticle,
I wish I could say it hasn't happened before.
It feels like I'm rotting on the backburner,
On everyone's backburner.
It feels like payback for the years of dust I've let them collect.
I've lost my touch; I can't sell it like I'm busy.
I just don't care to sell it at all.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 5:08 AM UTC
Yell at the indignity of abscence and cringe in the shadows
All is lost upon the alters of discovery
We still cant feel a thing
The breaths are taken too far
We are too relaxed
Hair is too long
Eyes have too much light
The seldom perfect night is leaning towards reaccurance
And pulled over the eyes of the ones who can really see
We hallucinate and devote it to realism
We observe real truth and put it on the brain backburner
To be torn up and chewed into creative gold
28.6 years in the hole for innocence
Freedom for unending criminality
This is just throw up and dying fish
Dead air with angel wings
Blue hair and red eyes
Make everybit your suffering
Sleep when you're dead
Dream about real life
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 4:05 PM UTC
You look at me and see a beast, I look at you and see a beauty
Everything I want in a girl but too shy to have, so the excuse isn't that you're too good for me
Your life socically and academically and financially is night and day different compared to me
My life and the choices I've made so far are messed up, I just want a redo
And you seem like the kind of lady who has already begun building her empire, I have 2 sisters and a mother, so like 50 Shades I can thoroughly read you
You seem like the kind of girl who finished making young dumb decisions and stopped thinking of life as something to rapidly breeze through
And I can tell by your high price makeup collection once or twice in your life you've told a boy "I don't need you"
So here's the offer I propose
Give me some time to find myself and find my calling in this world even if it's to be writing prose
I'm not putting you on the backburner nor am I putting you on hold
Before I commit to you, I need to commit to myself
It's unfair for you to love me and i can't stand myself
So for now I'm putting our modern day beauty and the beast love story on a shelf
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 10:29 PM UTC
My shoulder blades are on fire
but I can’t focus on that right now
The food will be overdone
guests tired of waiting
nothing is ready yet
But I can’t focus
right now
Shove it down
push it back
remember to forget
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 11:29 AM UTC
You're the good one
Doing the very best you can do
Trying to see it through
while others take advantage of you
You have to do for them
but not for you
Backburner
Put it on the back burner ( Chorus sing three times)
Reaching out and pulling back
Kindness to some is out of whack
By now you should have learned the closer you get to the fire
You get burned
Chorus and fade
C@rainbowchaser2020
Oct 23, 2020
Oct 23, 2020 at 4:00 PM UTC