"befores" poems
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, blood is shameless;]
impurity on the ***** red
I pure I shed
hunger I fed
so loose so tight on the lead
so irritating she bled
revolting when it messes with the head
doors closed sounds spread
again unlike the befores I said
polluted on garments I five the two
onto the further of the farthest of lives
I paint I skin
I smudge the thin in the thrill
till it comes to a ****
and a breathe is willed
for nails to blood
and fingers to clot
guilty shame not guilty shameless pleasures on the lots
I care I not
--------ravenfeels
Apr 13, 2021
Apr 13, 2021 at 5:00 PM UTC
NEW AGAIN
AGAIN I AM LONGING.
FOR AGAINS ARE REPETITIVE.
IT SEEMS I NEED TO HURT.
I NEED TO OVERCOMPENSATE.
BUT I AM BROKEN FROM BEFORES.
SHOULD I AGAIN, AGAIN?
QUICKSILVER THOUGHTS,
RUNNING MADLY,
DEADLY IF CONSUMED.
AND I AM CONSUMED AGAIN.
THE INNOCENCE OF EYES,
MY OWN FAILURES REFLECTED BACK.
I AM MOTHER, DAUGHTER.
EX-LOVER, EX-FIANCE… EX HUMAN?
I AM TEARING AT MY SOULSKIN,
A WEREWULF AT FULL MOON.
MY INNER BEING IS SUFFOCATING.
IT’S TOO EASY TO BE HAPPY.
HARD IS GOOD.
I MUST BE GOOD.
A GOOD LITTLE PUPPY.
A BAD LITTLE PUPPY.
WILL I BITE THE HAND THAT FEEDS ME?
Feb 17, 2010
Feb 17, 2010 at 3:42 AM UTC
And there it was.
your toothbrush
still in its usual spot
the perfect epitomy
of what is left of
what I feel for you
it is the last of
all that you left behind
the proofs that you were once here
an item on display
the final thing to throw away
but I don’t do it.
dusty and morphed
it shows signs of use
yet being untouched for so long
sitting there and waiting
for nothing
a lonely cobwebbed fool
it reminded me of better days
of the closeness and the comfort
it hit me just like that
a glance and a notice
I was trapped in flashbacks
all from a **** toothbrush
there is little left of what I feel for you
yet there it still sits
a subconscious essence
and once it was acknowledged
it brought be back to our befores
when you used to use that toothbrush
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 5:33 AM UTC
The fantasies of love; I fancy myself
a glove— holding onto old befores, and
wearing out the test of time
A girl I would proudly call mine
Bribe my way into making a memory my bride; two
seductions of the tied ties, sleeping together at the odds night
And to wake up with a reasonable excuse to be tired
But I've tried to be like a peck of flightless birds—
no reason to fly south like the rest. As I encouraged
her to rest under my wing, upon my smothered talk in
her *******
Two crushing walls on my face in between thighs,
and her ****** being a tall tower close to rise
But I despise the extra seconds it takes to build up
her high. And why like vampires **** is because
they don't use much of their tongue
But by the batting of her eyes, she is close to come,
to a point of returning a tip of this favourable fun
Sep 26, 2022
Sep 26, 2022 at 2:05 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, life is a bliss in hell:}
your letters
spits I never want to breathe forever
knuckles you shoved into my back again never
but things may trail things may leave may dust
aiming for the swoons in my appeals an everlasting lust
skies upon the blues and the purples they stain
dances on seven hells of moons to remain
notes on ears on papers in the awake
heart and soul bared no more here at a paling so called stake
brushes braided in the befores
on this night
on this day
-------ravenfeels
Apr 19, 2021
Apr 19, 2021 at 4:14 PM UTC
Through the haze of dust came
The miraculous love.
Love brought vapors of sweet befores.
“Ahh the smell,” thought he, “This be the
Temptation of youth.” Girls doused in
Thick smell: summer’s scented sand.
T’was not many girls, but one. One who
He loved—He fathomed possible.
Soap and towel, given for the purge.
Dunked in baptismal waters,
But the earth was resilient.
The details are in the fabric.
The fabric is in the details.
Was it his stitching, or the towel’s?
imprinted with a thorny crown.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 5:46 PM UTC
I want you for my own
I want you in every way and sense
For every reason known to mankind
From the first I saw you, I've wanted you every second since.
I want you in heaven and
I'll want you in hell
I want you on earth
And in every galaxy as well.
I want you in my blood
Running through my veins
I want you in every neuron that
Goes to and from my brain.
I want you.
I want every smile and every frown
I want you.
From the highest hair on your head down.
I want every emotion you'll ever feel
I want every breath you'll ever take
I want every beat of your heart
I want every night you sleep and morning you wake.
I want the good, the bad, and the ugly of you
I want the laughs, the hurt, the anger
I'm possessive of every bit of your life
I want your befores, nows, and laters.
I want every atom and molecule you're made of
I want the entirety of your soul
I want every and anything you'll ever think of
I'll want far past when you're gray and old.
This is the way I want you
So badly it tears me into two
But I'll never say it like this, instead
I'll say, "I love you."
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 8:27 PM UTC
In the mist of it all, I'm just a yearning, passionate soul, looking to be loved.
To be understood,
To be seen for mind verses matter.
In the mist of it all, I'm lost in a body of a bodies.
Everyday thousands of people pass by me.
On their bikes, in their cars, on the bus, by feet.
I'm in my own world thinking about THOSE people thinking,
At the same time I'm competing with myself.
I find myself at a at very Freud stand point.
In the mist of it all, I've always seen right and wrong.
I used to see the in betweens,
I used to see the befores and predict the afters.
And now, in the mist of all this doubt, all this fear, all these people,
I find myself lost,
I find myself scared,
I find myself lonely.
This mist scares me of my own greatness, but at the same time it serves my incompetence.
I look at her, I look at him, I look at all of THEM,
And in the mist of it all, they look okay.
They look happy,
They are riding their bikes, taking the bus, driving their cars,
And walking towards something....
In the mist of it all,
I know assumption is an ignorant observation,
We are all a spectrum in this thing called life.
but in the mist of it all, I need a security, an explanation, a freedom to feel, to cry and to indulge in self-doubt.
But in the mist of all this mist, I need some one to hold me tight,
To reassure that my fears are only fears,
To secure my feet,
To believe in my thoughts, because they don't believe in me.
To make me feel,
God.
Where have I fallen in all this mist.
God please help me live, feel, cry for passion and not for pain.
In the mist of it all,
In the mist of it all,
I'm left with thoughts, thoughts,
And thoughts.......
In this godforsaken mist.
I yearn for love, I yearn for hope, I yearn for dream....
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 12:30 AM UTC
with a hair tuck the atoms bent
to curl in a loop around her ear
compressed into a snaking stream
of custard comets, pouring down
her neck, over collar bones, passed
the ribcage made of gold limestone
holding grains of sparrows eggs turned
to sand, from ten thousand years ago
seeping into skin, grey fake tan of
statues, mountains, ocean beds alike
the ache in the pulse at her wrist from
the steady thrum injection of the worlds
squeezed, twisted, turned and churned
into a potion, a medicinal miracle, a fine
powder substance that grows at liquid's
touch.
dripping through her palms, fingertips
to create a stain upon the sugar paper
flesh of others, like a children's picture
turned tattoo in highlighted colour and
sound, drumming into ears, road works
on the way to the brain, cause a migraine
cells screeching to infiltrate all they touch
bred, genetically modified, embitterment
of the human race, a flawless system of
this, that, none other, its aim to destruct
befores and reconstruct them differently
against the wishes of the girl who calmly
indifferently, lazily, unknowingly, seductively
tucked that lock of hair behind her ear.
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
Lines like a laxative for tongues,
The individual pieces become greater than its sum,
Summer time therapy dialing up in increments,
Wouldn't know the difference between the butterflies and chrysalis.
Syzygy in spirit as sympathy in the impetus,
Synergy in serendipity makes symmetry seem ubiquitous.
Flummoxed, I fell face first flying into fellowship,
Feeling fusion in the furrows of my fingertips,
Figure this, mistigris, implement mirrors for the synthesis,
Taking root in the underground,
This is censorship on stimulus.
Kaizen from the get-go,
How did silence ever get gold?
Climate of the biome discernible by petrichor,
Some of my greatest allies are people I've never even met before.
Mumpsimus with metaphors, metatron or metamorph,
A mess of Mesozoic memoirs drowning in a reservoir,
Reserve my right to write a mire of a message board,
Desire an empire of satire to conquest; explore,
Buyers, sellers, best befores,
Crying out to be adored,
The expiration estimation rivals rivals' primal repertoires.
Rhymes like mycelium, climbing up the parapets,
Embrangled mosaics interceding abstract arabesque.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 5:48 AM UTC
from the first kiss of the day
to the last kiss at night
we smirkingly wring the grey waters of
Logic & Reason
from our Passion
(so that it smells like
newly-washed old
bed sheet
deeply rooted in
Hole-y Memories
Faded 'I love yous'
Nostalgic 'We've done this befores'
and
Hopeful 'Let's do it agains'
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 11:02 PM UTC
The aging blind man at the florist's
Recalls his vision, his statue'd youth
Here, the sensation of scent
Is a meadow of heartache
When days were alive as a bouquet
Nostalgic now to go / see his love.
Alas when sight was fragrant...
He carries lilies out the door
Old and blind
A man holding memories
Of bright befores...
Alas when sight was fragrant.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 4:21 PM UTC
HOW GLORIOUS IS IT THAT
WE WITH OUR MERE ANCHORS FOR BODIES
CAN EXPERIENCE SHORT BATTLES OF TIME THAT LIFT US FROM WHERE WE ARE
TURN ON THE LIGHTS.
YOU KNOW, WHEN SOMEONE SAYS SOMETHING
AND THEIR EYES LIGHT UP AND
YOU JUST DEEPLY WANT TO PAINT WITH THE COLOR OF THEIR VOICE.
BECAUSE YOU COULD ALWAYS DIG THAT PAINTING OUT OF THE ATTIC
AND STARE INTO THE COLORAND REMEMBER,
EVEN FOR A SECOND,
YOU CAN CLIMB ONCE AGAIN TO THE PEAK OF THAT MOMENT AND REST UPON IT.
YOU CAN SIT AT THE TOP AND SEE FOR MILES,
THE FEELINGS, THE SMELLS, THE BEFORES AND AFTERS OF RIGHT THEN
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
It was hard to see you across the room,
After years of pretending you never walked in.
Hard to remember, you're here alone.
It was harder to see you walking by without hesitation
As I had done countless times before
Yet,
It was easy to call your name,
After years of keeping it submerged.
Easy to smile, and laugh with you again.
It was easy to see you hadn't changed,
And why I had to walk away.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
As i sit in my very old rocking chair thinking here and there, i try to imagine the history of the one who made the chair.
Cutting here and sanding there, rocking too and fro. I try to imagine the long befores, maybe long before i was born how people sat in the very same chair rocking far away.
And as the years slipped by time just flew, just flew so far away. My mind takes me there, far far away to the one who made the chair...rock.
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 9:50 AM UTC
I don't think of our yesterdays.
Not wishing for our tomorrows.
I care about our todays as this is
the moments when our love is happening.
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 10:23 PM UTC
Comparing befores and afters
Flipping through ripped pages and chapters
Time kept moving despite my dissatisfaction
People changed despite my lack of action
In recluse my made up home
My personal prison, my imaginary dome
Decorated walls
Finished furnished halls
Where to go is where i stayed
Things too broken, way too frayed
Inviting Visitors instead of getting out
This is now what life is all about
To never leave
Never
Leave
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 11:04 PM UTC
Baptized in water, to wash afresh life
They flipped a quarter to pay a wreck their stripes
Too many strikes in the lines; I've done ill twice
To prove a lesson I never seem to learn
And by the next turn on an unfamiliar road
As where the water drips off the bottom sink—filled in dirt
I'll over think a wish that employers pay my worth
Baptized in fire, of all those miscreants I'd like to burn
Setting flame to burning evil intent of worldly incense
As the idea of a heaven paradise, is the only call to repent
To accept the mess you made—no sense or point to be afraid
Tip the finger despite the good intent, but a middle finger in prayer
Nowadays sinners aren't ashamed, to gain success out of his name
Heathen, Atheist, Christian, Jew, Muslim, Buddhist; all the same
Living the most lively of lives, but we'll all die in the end
Baptized in Earth, saying goodbye to befores, family and friends
It's the spoil of soil that buries my dreams with a fresh rose
She smells of intentions, but I cannot smell good with a ****** nose
Ironically all things are red, that of which we've read
To share with the young, or not really care—we all die in the end
Caught in this life's trap of the pleasure's unfair; a bear in a snare
To rob you bare, with tears and a ripped bandage that you tear
The ones you love aren't always there—in moment's phone call away
_Ring, ring, beep, beep, sing, sing, sip, sip_; sorry I'm drinking today
You're just throwing those hopes in the air, feeling down by gravity
Baptized in winds, swinging carelessly in hopeful imaginings
That you're the one to be the golden egg of your family
An idea I had once till it cracked, so I sit back relax and laugh
Mask my pains with a grin and jokingly demeanor to always pass
Speaking smooth joy out of a tongue of jazz, and jazz hands
Fingers splayed to play in quotation marks of having a good day
And the line phrase of always saying, "yeah I'm definitely okay"
All in these elements—restless, pretend excellence, dreadfulness
In the endlessness of subtle pettiness, of my helplessness
As of my gentleness elegance, in being my life as the evidence
I've been baptized fully by the full of all these elements
Sep 19, 2022
Sep 19, 2022 at 4:52 PM UTC
On this day
I slipped
Into my practice
Upon waking
Like
Easing
Into your bed
After too much
Living
Leaves us
Weak.
Necessary
And
Indulgent
Somehow
To leave be
The befores
And the laters
And come to rest
In the now.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 4:06 PM UTC
The aging blind man at the florist's
Recalls his vision, his statue'd youth
Here, the sensation of scent
Is a meadow of heartache
When days were alive as a bouquet
Nostalgic now to go / see her…
Alas when sight was fragrant...
He carries lilies out the door
Old and blind
A man holding memories
Of bright befores...
Alas when sight was fragrant.
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 4:08 PM UTC
We are drowning
not in water, but in silence,
each breath swallowed,
a hollow echo of what once was.
The sky forgets the blue it once wore,
now draped in smoke-thick sighs,
the wind hums of almosts and befores,
while hope slips away beneath the tides.
And the sun, now too tired to fight,
bleeds light into a sea that won’t remember,
its warmth wearing down
dying like a goodbye that came too soon.
Islands reach, grasping for air, for mercy,
fingers of earth, worn down by our neglect,
their shadows stretch, long and desperate,
suffocating beneath the weight of what we chose to ignore.
Plastic ghosts cling to the shorelines,
whispering lullabies in a language
we refuse to understand,
as they slowly choke on the promises we broke.
Every wave folds a secret into itself,
ice that cracks beneath the weight of silence,
echoes of futures we threw away,
suffocated by the choices we refuse to face.
Like writing a book where the plot is clear,
yet still, you're caught by the ending,
the ending you could have rewritten
but chose instead to leave as it was.
We carve comfort into the sea’s bones,
etching “it’s fine” into rising tides,
yet every flood speaks what we won’t
this silence isn’t survival, it’s surrender.
(and here is a haiku based off of that <3)
I watch and I wait,
thinking it is not my fight
the tide swallows time.
we thought the sea's fate
was never ours to carry,
so we let it sink.
Footprints on wet sand,
washed away before I move
was I ever here?
Mar 27, 2025
Mar 27, 2025 at 8:45 AM UTC