"blurriness" poems
sprinkle your love over
me like cherry blossoms in
spring where everywhere
everywhere everywhere
are littered with pinks
but then summer came and
you forget about valencia like the sun forgets the
sky and I drop petal by petal flowers
by flowers and the streets are steeped in
longing
autumn came and left, breathing life into a
crocus and drawing it away just as quickly like how you
take each of my breath away from
me and each of my heart beat walks away
with your steps
the blurriness of winter borne the snowdrops
snowdrops, snow drops, the death of that love that
once bloomed in my heart.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
‘twas the Hour of The Raven,
Scolding at the Seven Seas,
Humidity can’t be seen
As the sun whirled
Its final twirl.
A flock of pigeons stand by Midnight’s Trolley Trail.
I am my own eye,
Staring at taught veils
'tween cotton gaits.
The clouds are no more,
Spirits remained encaged in rose sepultures,
A transformation so chaotic, they cackle at their false fear.
MY BLURRINESS SEEMS TO BURN
STEADY. ready,
For what to behold.
I have left Universe to relay ,
As the subtle sun one did in its day.
I am left
To react.
React to what?
React to wee? React,
to relationships, React,
to their degree of nobility,
So fruitful, so radical in concept indeed.
Of all these perspectives
I am one.
One paper, one tree cut for endless possibilities.
The treasure remains underneath,
Where I weep
In the deep,
In the deep.
There is nothing to find,
And that made all the difference.
'twas the Hour of The Raven,
Scolding at the Seven Seas.
Jun 14, 2022
Jun 14, 2022 at 4:08 PM UTC
There it is
a peace of the future sky
in my eye
fuzzy floating, now unresolved;
a blue and white someday
on hills and trees
I squint into.
When I am seeing this blurriness,
I see red and yellows,
blacks and whites,
all melding into one grayness.
Oh , my imagery, I see beautifully.
hazy , but, one day....
I will visit the optometrist...
right after my
psychiatrist.
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
The subtle cross between intersections, a life of blurriness, through crossed t’s and neatly dotted i’s I removed from the phrase Poetic Form, (trying to spell it without crossing myself back into it).
From lesbianism to manhood,
to cross what being a man means,
I wonder if my own identity is written in pen and everyone wants it typed and edited,
Yet I’ve taken the plastic keys off my computer board and made them into magnets last week,
Setting myself up with stolen magnets stolen blocks,
Putting them in order on my own fridge,
Scrambling them back because there is no order,
They only told you there was so that way you’d sing a song,
But I know now that I can write words, there’s no need for a pre-prescribed song when I’ve written my own,
In my own words.
When I look back and have pages of songs nobody else asked for or decided to write,
When I’m in class and I pocket my songs into stories and my stories under my low grades,
Under my teachers’ requests for MLA format,
I think of that caterpillar I played with in my room when I was six,
And how i thought about how people only wrote about butterflies
And how the caterpillars felt about that,
So when I asked my mother to ask her friend, an author,
If she’d write me into a novel,
Would she ignore me because I was a caterpillar,
Only choosing to open her mouth and write when my story became beautiful and socially acceptable,
When it grew out from the pubescent disliking of itself and stained the sinks of society,
Out of a hot *** of queer and quarantine,
Till the broth of the fluidity of my own being was was down the rabbit hole
Till all that was left was whitewashed spaghetti?
If these songs were anything I could write down again and again,
In pen, ignoring the requests to write neater,
To type faster,
If I put all my work into an envelope I already broke,
Shove it into a mailbox decorated with things people disagree with,
My pages bleeding ink few people can touch without being soaked,
When they ask me what to file me under
I don’t say “minority fiction” anymore
I say file me under “road signs”
At the intersections.
File me under that caterpillar,
In the wheat field,
Next to hydrangeas on the dinner table
A Sunflower in the spring
The harvested Brown Rice,
So when you make me into a meal I didn’t ask for,
I can be at least eaten by the vegans.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 1:44 AM UTC
I haven’t always been an addict
I remember a time when I judged those who clung to bad habits like their life depended on it
I used to think why can’t they just stop?
I used to wonder why people would risk their lives just to feed that desire
If my 14 year old self knew me now she’d be ashamed
I wish I could go back and tell her that those friends are going to get you addicted
They’ll introduce you to things that you’ve always wanted to try
And eventually they’ll become things you can’t turn down
She probably wouldn’t believe me, she’s always been naive and stubborn
I wish I could tell her that drinking only makes you forget for a little while
And that blurriness you feel only lets you escape for one night
And when you wake up the next morning the only thing you’ll look forward to is getting drunk again
you’re wrong she would say
I wish I could tell her that blunt won’t fix the loneliness in your heart
And that good feeling you feel right now is only temporary
And you’ll find yourself craving that again when your high is gone
You’ll blow your money that mom gave you on grams instead of what you told her it was for
you’re wrong she would say
I wish I slap that cigarette out of her mouth and tell her how addictive and deadly it is
And how mom would be so disappointed in her if she knew
And how stupid she was for allowing herself to succumb to all these things
It’s not that bad she would say
I wish I could tell her about the time she drank so much that she passed out in a strangers home and didn’t know where she was the next day
I wish I could tell her that she almost ran into a ditch and died because she was high while driving
I wish I could tell her how she couldn’t go a day without smoking at least 3 cigarettes and mom found out about it
you were right she would say when it was too late
Hooked on ***** drugs, and cigarettes
Crying alone in her room at 1 am, knowing that she couldn’t keep doing this
But not knowing how to stop
I wish I could tell her not to judge those people stuck on bad habits
Because one day that will be you too
And you still haven’t fully recovered
I can’t just stop she would say
And she still says to this day.
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 12:27 AM UTC
1 AM
Flashing lights
Blurriness
Darkness
They're here
Unambiguously punctual
They hum solemn melodies &
Whisper deceitful yet stimulating
Thoughts engraved forevermore in
This unpretentious mind of mine
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
I stand atop a hill,
Right in the thick of love,
Deeply pondering my thoughts,
From high, up above.
It was not until I saw your face,
Did my heart slowly start to pound,
Envisioning nothing more than blurriness,
From all around.
As I look into your eyes,
I can’t help but form a luminous smile,
A feeling that comes only within,
And appears all the worthwhile.
How did I find such a worthy guy?
Respectful and sincere beyond belief,
Loving and very much admirable,
Attractive, heartwarming, with perfect teeth.
I stand atop a hill,
Embracing you with loving arms,
Kissing your lips with passion,
Discovering all you’re charms.
You leave me in much suspense,
Every time we unite,
You’re love to me exceeds all expectations,
A feeling oh, so right!
So much freedom,
We endure,
As we embark on new adventures,
With much to explore,
I stand atop a hill,
Smiling endlessly through the night,
Because I know you’re always there for me,
Always shining bright. <3
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
Mommy! Mommy!
What have you done for me?
Remember when I was little and I got would run around the playground and I would scrape my knee?
Mommy should have kissed it better.
Remember when I would tap you on your shoulder when I had something neat to show you?
Mommy never felt it.
Remember when I was little and I would beg for you to not hit my with a belt?
Mommy should not have hurt me.
Remember when I was little and I craved your attention?
Mommy should have given some.
Remember when I started to grow bigger mommy?
Mommy never noticed.
Remember when you never showed me the right way?
Mommy made me create my own path; she only showed me to the darkest parts of life.
Remember when I was ***** every day for two whole years?
Mommy should have saved me.
Remember when I started to cut open my wrist?
Mommy never cared enough.
Remember when I overdosed?
Mommy should have cared.
Remember when you told me you did not want me around.
Mommy said she did not want me in her life.
Remember when I started to fade into the blurriness of the unknown?
Mommy has no clue.
Mommy! Mommy!
What have you done for me?
H.T
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
I was at a bar,
Against my will,
I don’t drink…
Alcohol.
The people laughing,
Hollering, Wallowing,
And swallowing the
Brew to a counterfeit
Reality…
A reality of invincibility,
A reality of incomprehension,
A reality of abstract visions,
A reality of indiscipline,
A reality of the minds,
A reality of blurriness,
A reality of sheer…
UTTER Stupidity.
They stutter and stumble,
They rock and ****
They slam and slam
More brewed bogus
Reality.
They call it an escape,
But while in that faux-reality
They forget;
There is no reality
More genuine,
More intricate,
More perplexing,
More marvelous,
More sobering,
Than one within sobriety,
Made from all
Natural ingredients.
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 5:15 AM UTC
I was falling.
I knew that somehow my feet had tumbled over some sort of cliff but could not recognize the scenery nor how or when I had reached this peculiar predicament.
Along with the always present weightlessness of falling through the air, there bubbled within me another feeling; one I did not expect.
Apathy.
The blissful faux virtue of anhedonia that coursed through my veins like a venom; pumping with my slow heartbeat....
I fell in slow motion, giving time to muse on such things while the skies around me changed drastically from clear to cloudy, from wistful clouds to a menacing overhead growling.
I closed my eyes and smiled.
In the back of my eyes though appeared a hooded figured shrouded in black with only a slight sneer appearing through the visage. This figured caused the blissful venom to tighten and turn sharply into a fear that made me unable to breathe.
I screamed as I started falling faster and mouthed words that couldn't be understood.
Tears poured and fell upward like rain from a tormented ghost.
Just before the ground embraced me and swallowed everything I ever was or ever would be, time stopped and there was silence.
I opened my eyes and to my surprise, the blurry sight of two figures appeared. One emmitted a faint glow with a softness about him; a calming aura...
while the other gave me the feeling of power and rage; a darkness about him like a creature bearing teeth against the night.
In unison they whispered five words.
The blurriness faded and I gasped. They were both distorted caricatures of me.
In the blink of an eyes, I was yanked upward with a speed so fierce that perhaps my body would not be able to handle it. Through the stormy and the calming skies...
I woke up out of breath to the sound of an alarm clock screaming beside my bed.
I blinked a few times and sighed, recovering my breath...
"Don't give up on me...", I whispered.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC
I stand atop a hill,
Right in the thick of love,
Deeply pondering my thoughts,
From high, up above.
It was not until I saw your face,
Did my heart slowly start to pound,
Envisioning nothing more than blurriness,
From all around.
As I look into your eyes,
I can’t help but form a luminous smile,
A feeling that comes only within,
And appears all the worthwhile.
How did I find such a worthy guy?
Respectful and sincere beyond belief,
Loving and very much admirable,
Attractive, heartwarming, with perfect teeth.
I stand atop a hill,
Embracing you with loving arms,
Kissing your lips with passion,
Discovering all you’re charms.
You leave me in much suspense,
Every time we unite,
You’re love to me exceeds all expectations,
A feeling oh, so right!
So much freedom,
We endure,
As we embark on new adventures,
With much to explore.
I stand atop a hill,
Smiling endlessly through the night,
Because I know you’re always there for me,
Always shining bright. <3
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 3:45 PM UTC
I might have likened the bottle
more than the *****
the drink often brought peace and sleep
but also her too
sometimes a room full of unwanted types
the restless,with a grudge
the music would disappear
and blurriness replaced sight
often anger
it's quiet tonight
I must not have seen her
words and pages tell me so.
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 11:44 PM UTC
As a gush of wind passes by me,
I hear a high-pitch sound,
I envision blurriness,
From all around.
I feel a gentle touch,
From the almighty winds' power,
I'm alone with the wind,
As high as a tower.
The singing breeze captures my attention,
As my curiosity rises,
I'm at ease with the wind,
Of various shapes, and sizes.
I see a shadow of the wind,
Feel the winds' breath on my skin,
I'm relaxed and content,
From my conscious within.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 4:11 PM UTC
Here I am,
living in the space between
truth and reality, fleshing
out fact and fiction.
Honestly, honesty doesn't
always mean accuracy.
Symposium of grief and
all its little tear soldiers,
running down your face,
fleeing the battlefield before
the war's even begun.
I wish you would stop.
Bringing logic into this,
that's so like you, like
logic does any good when
I'm like this.
Why do you get like this?
I don't know. Ask God.
He has a very sick sense
of humor.
I'm getting ahead of myself.
I'm getting beyond myself.
I'm getting tired. I'm getting
so tired, darling.
Erasing myself from history,
not that hard. The only mark
I ever made was on myself,
young and stupid on the cold
bathroom floor, begging God
to throw me a crumb.
I don't remember everything
from those years. Now when
I think of blurriness, I think
red.
Jesus. It hurts to write this.
I tried explaining it to you
once. I tried to tell the truth,
but it wasn't the right one.
What is your truth?
Do you really want to know?
I could spend the rest of my
life writing about this. I hope
I don't.
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 8:44 PM UTC
I have always wanted to be perfect.
Once upon a time
it seemed like such an achievable goal
because I believed that perfection sat at the back of my throat
waiting each night for me to reach in and grab her after dinner.
But I soon realised
with scarred knuckles, yellow teeth, a scratchy voice and the same body I'd had all along
that perfection was not something I could achieve by cheating.
It was then that I started to see perfection sitting at the top of the hill 4 miles away from my house.
And in the black coffee I would cradle in my hands before I set off to that hill at 5am
And on the scale when I only had one foot on
And in the size 6 jeans I'd bought by accident, once
And in everybody else but me
I was dying to get my hands on perfection
But she just kept getting further away
Getting smaller each time I saw her.
But with a face as pale as daisy petals, numbers in the notes on my iPad, bruised knees and the blurriness behind my eyes,
I continued to chase what I thought was my only chance of being loved.
I chased her all the way to the approving messages, the smiles in the corridor by people who hadn't done that before and people's questions of just how I'd managed to get so healthy.
But I didn't stop there.
I chased her to the collar bones that caught raindrops, the spine that hurt against chairs, the gap between my thighs that seemed to stretch for miles and the defined cheekbones that cut into my once-so-plump cheeks.
I chased her to the clumps of hair on my pillow in the morning, to the cold shivers on a hot summer's day, to the baggy size 6 clothes and to the aches in my joints at night.
I chased her to the concerned faces and the offerings of other people's lunch. To the ground when I'd stood up too quickly and to the skipped periods.
And then to the hospital.
I chased her all the way to my death bed and yet still she did not come to visit me.
She was not with me when I looked down at my skeletal body.
And she was not with me when I caught a glimpse of myself in the patient bathroom mirror.
But she was with every other patient I came across, and she was with the nurse, and she was with every family and friend that came to tell me I hadn't needed to chase her that long because she did not exist.
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 5:16 AM UTC
Father Time grounds his Sun's dial
by an ocean of hot sand,
his world inside an hour glass galaxy
spiraling downward
like a blue feather from a jay in a baobab
the mirage a lake, an eerie oasis throbs,
fuzzed by heat's blurriness.
Einstein peers through invisible specs
his peers skeptical of what he suspects
questions answered by questions
matter no longer matters
in accordance to my flannel pattern,
an arid desert spreads our earth,
Whitman's witnesses,
your songs causes gasps
in every plant's lungs
not just the grasses.
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 5:10 PM UTC
I was going to tell you. I was going to let you read a page. I swear.
I just wanted to put a
face to the feeling,
wanted a solid "you"
to write to, something
other than the blurriness.
I didn't pull you out of
your grave. I said,
scoot over.
When you walk a mile in
someone else's shoes, you
find your feet growing to
fill them out. That's the thing
about empathy:
Your own shoes are a little
too tight now. You've got
blisters on your ankles.
I had a dream that you bit
me and then ****** the
venom out. I had a dream
that you gave me mouth-to-
mouth so heavenly I forgot
who drowned me.
You had dibs over both sides
of the coin, half-dreamer, half-
dream. You made a place for
yourself inside my head. There,
you said, now I can live forever.
May 15, 2017
May 15, 2017 at 1:24 PM UTC
Those dreams fading away,
carried by the clouds, that suddenly surfaced.
Those worry clouds - surely able to take away those infatuated love.
Those guiding hands of yours are no more here,
I am so lost in the wilderness,
Without you by my side.
Those feeling of not wanting and wanting at the same time,
I am so perplexed, yet try to understand the full context of it
by seconds by minutes by hours and by days.
Maybe not maybe yes,
we are so selfsame however unconnected, unrelated here and there.
So here we goes our epoch of love, swaying, stranding on the beach of blurriness. I stood dumbfounded not knowing what to do.
Do I failed miserably or we haven't tried at all?
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
On a dark lonely street lit up with golden light,
Some walk staring blankly at the jet black road and some admire the glittering sight,
Some pass by gazing at the few stars shimmering, some letting in the feels of the moonlit night
Some look at the blurriness of the way carrying a heavy head and wiping off teary eyes.
Few even fly with their feet on ground
Some throw humongous curses to the stone that their toe has found
Some walk on hungrily searching for food
Some sweep off the Earth looking out for luck momentarily shouting "Oh, life's good."
Some run with hurried steps towards home,
And some find their's on the slabs of the roadside bench made of stone.
While some exitedly wait for the day to come,
Some calmly live for the nights alone.
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 1:07 PM UTC
Like a shooting star.
I drifted further and farther away. To where it- whatever that is! Whatever that is, goes blurry...so blurry, so that the blurriness is moving, pulsating, as if to say, ‘I could be anything, I could mean anything.’
Like a star.
But.
When everything is possible, nothing is plausible.
It is a paradox. Oh but a paradox!
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 3:37 AM UTC
As a gush of wind passes over me,
A hear a high-pitch sound,
I envision blurriness,
From all around.
I feel a gentle touch,
From the almighty wind's power,
I'm alone with the wind,
As high as a tower.
The singing breeze captures my attention,
As my curiosity rises,
I'm at ease with the wind,
Of various shapes and sizes.
I see a shadow up ahead,
Feel the winds' breath on my cool skin,
I'm relaxed and content,
From my conscious within.
Let the singing breeze wave to me,
Let it hug my body and speak,
Let it become alive and nature's friend,
Let it find its highest peak.
It has much to show,
Of its beauty and gift,
Let the singing breeze sing,
Let it convey how swift.
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 4:24 PM UTC
This knee used to be fine,
no grinding feelings or immobility,
I crouched like a god
I also had back muscles
that laughed off twisting,
I wiped my *** with gay abandon
My eyes focused when I woke
and any blurriness was a sign
of rock ‘n’ roll
Now, as my supposed wisdom grows,
this flabby mechanism
seems want to say no
Feb 5, 2022
Feb 5, 2022 at 7:50 AM UTC
"Ugh, I'm so tired
I haven't showered in forever
I'm hot and thirsty
And my legs hurt so much"
Walking next to her
I replied
"I can't feel any of that
I'm so tired
That I'm only vaugely aware
Of a tingling ache in my feet
And some blurriness in my eyes occasionally."
She laughed and said that I had transcended
I said to her
"If this is transcendence, it kind of *****
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 8:11 PM UTC
I can see my life flash before my eyes
It is little more than a construction of an ordinary sentence
It rings in my ears as satisfying and fulfilling for my time here
When I try to peer into the future
I see nothing
I see nothing but her
The pencil shavings of tangible ideas
Of possible memories of us
Nothing can be discerned but the radiance of her grin in the foreground
Nothing more than her warm touch in the cold space
Nothing more than her bright eyes in a dark room
She can tell me to walk to the ends of the earth with her and I'd follow
As long as she leads with her hand in mine
But I'm concerned.
For the memories that are in my mind are not real
They are sketches I have drawn with my fingertips
And not my hands
I feel the strands of a bow that I unsure how to tie together
Feelings come easily but words don't
How do I describe how far these faux rememberings go?
How do I say I can see a memory of rings and champagne
With the blurriness of the others
And the worried expressions after a long day
Where the last wink of light
Betrays my eyes that are blinking with tears
I see a smile and crescent fingertips
The rest fades
But as my life flashes before my eyes
It no longer seems fulfilling
Even with its clarity
I am lost without the warm touch and bright eyes
And the future feels so uncertain
Without that tangible feeling
And the glint of a million memories that do not even exist
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 11:14 PM UTC