"booster" poems
You don't limit your life to social media.
In reality, social media limits you to your life.
A selfie with this and a selfie with that.
Your life is race for comments and likes.
Instead of having a personality worth praising
You are now judged based on your social media profiles.
Status update: I wish I could visit Paris some day.
In Paris you're like, "Where can I get signals for wifi?"
Your achievements are unlocking new levels of Candy Crush
Is that the legacy you'll leave behind?
As if all these achievements will benefit you
to unlock the doors of heaven when you'll die.
Your 940 friends won't be able to help you
by sending a booster or an extra life.
Relationship Status: Happily married.
Happy and married until the moment you both go offline.
You buy everything from behind the screen
Error 404: Cannot buy love and time.
It's a complicated maze that you won't accept
Even when they themselves call it a website.
You don't limit your life to social media.
In reality, social media limits you to your life.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
I gulp down an Energy-Booster-X,
blue and sour.
Siri turns on Radiohead,
15 Step.
I step up to the pyramid of treadmills,
bouncing and salty.
Surrounded by Greek gods,
Beta, Alpha Gam, Pike.
I motivate myself by my surroundings,
bulging and ****
Cardio first and then core,
2 miles, 200 crunches.
I connect my sweat in a line down my shirt,
blotchy and stagnant.
Everyone stretches in the end,
Thighs, biceps, pecs aflame.
I will not stop until I am perfection,
beautiful and sculpted.
Alarm set again,
For 6:30am, 7:30pm
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 12:16 PM UTC
You are not a teacher.
You are a:
wisdom-imparter
confidence-booster,
esteem-increaser,
fun-creator,
book-reader,
essay-writer,
dedication-inspirer,
love-definer,
joy-inducer,
enthusiasm-evoker,
wonder-explorer,
beauty-demonstrator,
knowledge-sharer,
thrill-designer,
truth-teller,
excitement-architect,
student-encourager,
A friend.
You are not a teacher.
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 11:47 AM UTC
I am 17 years old
but have to still ask to go to the bathroom
I am 17 years old
and expected to know what I want to do for the rest of my life
So tell me when this stops
When I am no longer held to a double standard
"Respect your elders
But hold yourself because you
are a role model
and not to be coddled
but could you pretty please put your hand up to go ***
and honestly
can't you see
that your future depends on our needs
I mean fail my test and see where your life leads"
Growing up *****
but so does being a kid
and lets face it I can't be at "home" forever
Mommy and Daddy
will no longer have me
and sadly
the real world is a cavity
for not only success stories
but failures especially
and out there is deathly
so don't tell me
That I'm too young to leave class
but old enough to try and decide my future
without a confidence booster
This situation lacking humor
if only I would have been told sooner
that there is no fine tuner
for the future
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 9:44 PM UTC
Picture this...
A girl breaks up with her long term boyfriend and downloads tinder.
The girl tries to play it cool for a little while, flirting, leading guys on, whatever it took to make her feel good.
Because the attention FEELS good and we all know it.
At first it was used to boost her confidence.
Until she started to hate these guys.
Until she realized they were all only looking for one thing and that was her body and not her heart.
Until she noticed the second she got real she would get unmatched.
The countless times she received only one message from multiple guys saying "let's have ***
And when her response was "I'm not that kind of girl" they disappeared.
Yea sure, tinder is a great confidence booster for a little while.
Until you're ready to give your heart to someone and you realize that the size of your *** is more important than the size of your heart.
Or your favourite colour.
Or what makes you smile.
Or what makes you sad.
Girl gets tinder...
And it works for a little while.
But none of them were worth it.
Picture this...
7 months later
Spent swiping and matching and chatting
And shes still hung up on her ex.
Because he saw her for who she was.
And those guys never will.
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 9:38 PM UTC
One thing I love to do
Is write letters to Grandpapa
Because
You never know where it’s going to take you:
Octogenarians are a real wildcard
And that makes life interesting.
For example, I was writing a letter
To Grandpapa and he likes to imagine things
Because he can’t get around much
So I give the cat meat to feed on.
I embellish a little my romantic situation
And I tell him about M; little M
How she reminds me of my little mama
And that boys tend to look
For someone who is like a mother figure
And we grow into this role
We become more dependent on the girlfriend
Til she becomes like a second mother
But it never starts out that way.
So I was telling him about little M;
And when I receive a letter back
I notice a rather odd sentence
That I cannot help but laugh at:
“Dan, you say M; is smaller than you
All the easier to back her into a corner”
And then it follows on with some
Incongruent sentence about ‘me driving a car’
Now I’m not sure if we got lost in
Translation
I don’t know whether Grandpapa is thinking
I’m going to run M; over (she’s not that small)
Or whether he’s suggesting I invest in a booster seat?
Or whether in fact, he has made an unwholesome
But wholey funny link
Between me staying up all night
And my young ****** prowess
(Which is the same thing I suppose)
But I’m not quite sure why I’d be backing her
Into a corner
That sounds like outright pressure
But I have to laugh
Ah Grandpapa
Maybe one day I’ll show M;
Or maybe not
She may develop an irrational fear
For tight spaces
Which is something
I will never have a problem with...
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 9:08 PM UTC
Depression, Depression the feeling of emptiness always a challenge to fill it with happiness. One of my favorite songwriters is Nick Drake his somber yet powerful lyrics about not be able to connect with people and depression really helped me in times of personal trouble. I was diagnosed very early on in my childhood with depression I started reading a lot listening to music looking outside my window watching the other children play knowing how I would not be able to connect socially. When my parents divorced I realized that my life began to go in a downward spiral then I discovered Nick Drake. I felt connected to him in some way as if I was a incarnation of him. When I listen to his music I feel the same sense of hopelessness the same feelings of isolation. At times I feel stronger for going through this permanent pain but then I think to myself what of my future. That question races though my mind it almost like its making me a restless ghost during those cold dark nights. Through my high school years I still felt the same isolation with people as when I was a child. But the big difference was that I didn’t place a big smile on my face when I knew everything was not alright. This time I expressed my feelings in a more mature and realistic way. I started to write a lot in my spare time I usually wrote a lot of isolated characters trying to find that source of happiness that would free them of their personal pains. Once I wrote a short story about a girl that I fell in love with being a huge fan of F.Scott Fitzgerald I described the main character as the girl all the boys want but can ever have. With a combination of Nick Drakes lyrical style and F Scott Fitzgerald’s plot structure I wrote a love story that defined my inner feelings that I couldn’t really express with verbal communication. Sometimes I believe when people socialize verbally it establishes a more meaningful connection but for me developing socializing socials wasn’t so verbal but it was with writing and listening to music where I developed a sense of identity that was a real morale booster to continue living life with the aspirations of success and personal happiness.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC
i'm walking down the street
bare feet, without a care
**** uber, metro, I hate public transportation,
i'm dirtying up this sidewalk, for a few years already
i'm writing down a will, in my mind, close to my eyelids,
because i'm on the wrong side of my mind
i feel sick, tasting the bitterness of humanity
when I wipe mankind on the side of the pavement,
at the very deep, there's masculinity mixed with *****
i'm walking down a bridge full of empty shells
i pass hordes of girls who are smiling insincerely
and again, i feel a boost in my veins
and again, i'm louder than mirrors
and as in the mirrors, voidness space,
and it is me, who takes the best from it
i absorb this poisoned air.
In the ears of mine, i can hear electro heat,
i feel like one man one Jean-Michel Jarre,
rain is pouring through me, sticks to me like fog,
i wrap myself in the warmth of two MDMA's,
someone glances surreptitiously and steals my soul,
you have a backpack full of cash, i have a suitcase full of emotions,
i'm going on a journey through the cursed city
like a hermaphrodite with a broken rod,
streets, like stigmas, cry with hollow screams,
in front of clubs content abortions on the sidewalk,
let's leave this lie, like the walking dead
assertiveness and pride to the gutter washed away.
And again, this booster is kindling my veins
i'm dirtier than a new jerusalem
and similar to it, i'm sticking to everything
and so I'm taking the most out of my heart
and I absorb this poisoned air once again.
and so the booster flows through the aorta
it is flooding my tarred heart,
destination reached.
and my wallet is shimmering with bitter crystal
nothing will change the course of this chemistry,
betrayed. betrayed by their own bodies
vidi, no vici, veni on its own,
and i'm catching a laugh, standing still in the subway
i am still absorbing poisoned air.
hatred.
jealousy.
i've seen enough.
today, in my city, sun rises in the morning.
you will remember this day forever or forget it for eternity.
Jan 4, 2019
Jan 4, 2019 at 4:43 PM UTC
We feel the need to push and fight
for the slightest flicker in your eyes.
What is it that makes us want your approval?
You are no different than the ordinary
cocky guy, we pass in the hallway.
But for some reason,
though it is denied wholeheartedly,
your attention is all we want.
Never will it be something admitted to
but you know.
And it's obvious you know,
but yet we continue to pursue this game
of who can hold your attention, longest.
You use us to feel better about yourself.
You love the fact that girls swoon over you,
and you don't have to do a ******* thing.
A confidence booster to your ego
should not be a priority.
I'm done playing your game.
I refuse to be a pawn in your game.
Check mate.
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 9:41 AM UTC
As though a booster pack of magic cards
They broke the seal
And discarded what they didn't want
Collecting the rejected
I built my deck
While everyone chose their colors
I chose every one
And with my eclectic half deck
The rejected won
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 12:10 AM UTC
I took a walk before dark
after the rain broke and had
to pass through the park
choked with winter briar
empty vials needles dog ****
piles and broken pieces of slide
rusting out beside a swing set
frame with rusty chains holding
up empty space while the whole
******* place looks like it could
use a tetanus booster if we hope
to have any kind of future clubs.
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 11:53 PM UTC
Cheesy eighties shows make me feel like
Being a bulimic alcoholic is a good choice.
Why is everyone so ugly?
That's a confidence booster.
I could cry over the amount of sunlight I see.
I'm like a little warrior,
Standing on a hilltop of daisies,
With a pair of pink, sparkly safety scissors in my hand,
And a smirk of a five year old genius across my face.
Take my hand and tell me I'm perfect,
That my scars are beauty marks,
My absolute beauty is incomparable,
That I'm your china doll.
As you lay me down on your bed,
And let me know that I'm the only girl for you,
This week.
Take away my safety scissors.
Condescend me.
Tell me I do not know what I am talking about.
But I see everything from my daisy hill, you know.
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 8:31 PM UTC
Help yourselves dear poets
if you have fever use filtered martinelly apple juice or any brand you got dilude it with water a glass every hour
it has boron it heals cutting fevers fast I used in my children tylenol can harm liver.
~~~~~~
for the stronger health users go
organic carrot and (beat juice-
-optional) if you only want water distiled is best one gallon add 20 drops of oregano leaf oil
and only drink this is antiviral.
fir one day or two
~~~~~~
If you tolerate take on raw garlic two or more Clove's blend them in filtered, or boiled or distilled water or even Gatorade electrolyte or smart water
add cayenne pepper or any hot peppers you have like cayenne it's good for heart
( no halapeños they irritate intestinal lining ) add sea salt to taste cilantro if you have add two yellow lemon juices freshly squeezed one hole mandarine or small organic orange
add ginger root fresh a finger size slice
add turmeric fresh root
you have apple cider vinegar with the mother in
add some one tablespoon
optional
add multivitamin mineral
and vitamin C ascorvic acid
8f no lemon available.
if you feel anxiety check thyroid it controls brain chemicals add a thyroid supplement vitamin to shake open capsule and blend all these and drink five onces
every 3 hours.
it's anti virulent immune system booster
200 mg of vitamin B complex nightly in powder form will stop your restless leg syndroms help nerves and good sleep add but D3
If you dear find milk thistle it heals detox liver tastes great open one or two capsules in glass of water I drink this daily.
~~~~~
Stay blessed all poets visitors friends you are much loved.
by Karijinbba
Mar 15, 2020
Mar 15, 2020 at 4:32 PM UTC
This is me,
Apologizing.
Saying sorry
For whatever it
Is I have done
To you,
Whatever small
Things I’ve forgotten
Or the attempts
That have failed.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry our
Friendship
Couldn’t last,
I’m sorry for
Everything
I’ve done to
Ruin
It, and
I’m sorry for
All the things
I couldn’t do
And all the things
I could.
I’m sorry
For flitting
In and out of
Your life,
All the coming
And going,
Never staying
Still,
Never learning.
I’m sorry.
Someday,
I pray,
That you’ll
See me from
Afar, or think
Of me due to
Some offhanded
Comment or
Experiencing
Nostalgia,
And I pray
That you’ll
Think back on
Our friendship
And the times
We had and
Think
She once was my very best friend.
How different my life is because of her.
And you’ll
Keep thinking
And thinking,
And I pray you
Decide that
It wasn’t so
Bad,
Me changing your life.
I want to keep
Everything flowing
From me in such
Stupid honesty,
But the kindness
And apologies
Stop there.
I can’t say
I miss you,
I can’t say
That I’m so
Mournful of
Your leaving,
Of you moving
On and
Replacing
Me.
Because I’m not.
I’m not sorry for that.
I’m not sorry
For your silent
Judgments of me
That I’m sure
You thought
Were well-hidden.
I’m not sorry
For watching you
Turn from God
Himself, and
Letting me crumble.
I’m not sorry
I say.
You’d never been there for me,
And all I did was listen to you.
The world fell, piece by piece,
Around me, and all you saw
Was your selfish reflection.
I’m not sorry.
You never could
See me.
You just saw
A jester and
A confidence-booster.
Never a person,
Never the feelings,
Never me.
Just the jester.
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 12:48 PM UTC
I drink to the java they put in my cup
Brazillian or Turkish I guzzle it up
Starbucks to Borders just pour me my brew
I need that caffeine or my poet is through
'Fore I’m snoring away in a Manhattan minute
Fill up my mug with my potion poured in it
Those dark little beans are my favorite booster
I'm up to the task like a Rhode Island rooster
Phooey on tea leaves and colas with fizz
I’d cry to the heavens, is that all there is!!?!
With no mud or jamocho my words have no pomp
And no lovely check from old Wergle Flomp
Aug 21, 2010
Aug 21, 2010 at 10:27 AM UTC
Roddy's Rooster, man! you couldn't
oust her
Standing up there on his dunghill fair
Announcing to the whole world, to All
everywhere
My **** He's the greatest doodle doer
O! that Roddy's Rooster.
He don't need no booster, does
Roddy's Rooster
He'd even go after the goose sir
Don't you fouster with this Rooster
You'd only lose sir
Now vamoose sir.
Very dapper and quite the scrapper
Patrolling his perimeter
Strutting around the farmyard pound
Invariably, henhouse bound
If you were to meet him
It'd be "Put up your dukes sir
Me! I'm Roddy's Rooster".
With his tail feathers all fluffed up
Like a feather duster
And his chest all puffed out
Quite the Dandy and always randy
What a Suitor that Roddy's Rooster
And O! what a Wooer, that wooey
doodler.
I I
He came a cropper though one day
When he fell in the Hopper
Now he's a good deal shorter
And not half as cocky as before,
Now he sits on his wall lamenting his
fall
Thinking of the days when he used to
have a ball
Has Lady Luck that Grand Old Duck
deserted him I wonder.
Sad to see, now he's a bit gammy
More Bandy than Dandy
He still South's in the Summer
But has doubts in the Winter,
Now he likes to crow his woes and
lows away
Climbing up onto his dunghill, he
greets the day
But now in a high shrill falsetto
voice
He sings in a whole different way
" I've been round the Ringer but I'm
still quite a Dinger
**** a Doodley Doo"
Now... now he's a ****** Blues singer!
O! that Roddy's Rooster.
Roddy's Rooster Yeeaahh!
Mar 17, 2020
Mar 17, 2020 at 10:29 AM UTC
Don't you think our friendship is amusing
We rarely have a meeting
Or people call it a friend dating
Yet we're still contacting
Freaking every day one's thinking
How to make each other amazing
And to improve attitude doing
Not just to use fluffy words babe-darling
But to manifest love in our own way
And avoid separating.
Do you notice,
When you're happy
My heart dance genuinely
When you brightly smile
My heart is closer to you a mile
When you're excited
I'm donating my limbs to be cheered
When you utter something
I agree without hesitating
And do I realise,
When I cry
You provide a comfort room to rely
When I feel exhausted
You swing to be an energy booster
When my mood turns down
You send sweet phrases that make me frown
When I feel bright
You add another enormous light
When flower loses its scent
When world seems come to an end
My vast light is from a best friend
YOU, whose love never bent.
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 8:34 AM UTC
Po-hymn
**To whomever you pray to,
And if there is no such icon,
Then I hymn-hum to you, this tribute**
Let all my mistakes, my typographical errors,
Like writing poem and getting back po-hymn,
Bring delights to keep, to grow ancient on my face,
For from every accident, we grow and bend,
New tree leaning towards our collective inner
Sun Ra.
I am no David, psalms and hymns,
Unreadily exist, so dug deep Lord,
To write this prayer, for my brethren.
Just one day, someday, let heaven
Grant only poets births, no passings took.
Give us goodness and grace
All the poems of our day.
Shed special light all about our faces,
From our shoulders, rise up insight inside our heads,
Brighten, enlighten, give us eloquence and sanity.
Let our missives dismiss the gloom,
Polish, remove the tarnish, we cannot secret
From the all seeing confessions taker,
Honesties writ daily but never published.
Give us meter, yes, give us rhyme,
To make sense of the grey days,
The black hole invaders,
Given iris-shine be our responsibility,
But a sweet nudge, prithee,
Enhance our impoverished ability.
This Sabbath day your fog-hide
Your gift of bay and beach
So quiet implore, beseech,
Keep the sailors safe,
And your poets saved.
I ask much.
But I ask for all of us,
There are so many such
That are booster-chair needy
That I am succumbed, overwhelmed,
Enormity fearsome needs help even from a deity.
Small words, big hopes.
If you cannot grant it,
Won't wait for intervention,
Do it myself, answer prayers one and all,
Best I can, starting now with this
Po-hymn.
July 13th for always
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 9:11 AM UTC
I’m sitting on a fume couch with ashtray
legs, counting the khaki strands
in the beaded curtain that dices
the hallway up into barcodes. The table
by the fridge is a cable spool lead-
painted to match the molding. Around
it is a mesh-back lawn chair, a SoCal
fold-out from a SoHo dumpster,
a spill-trayless booster seat,
and a bottle cap barstool. Everyone’s
wearing second-hand sport coats
with seam stitches as loose as telephone
wires tacked up with undersized lapel
pins.
**** Capitalism. **** Disco.
Bathe Avant-Garde. Eat Paint.
Bleed ******* Smoke Local.
Espresso, Or Genocide.
Dresden Was A Lie.
Shrink-Wrap It All.
Everyone is clustered around the cinder-
block stand record player, grooving
to the pops, looking like a rag-tag tide
change beneath the broken-oar ceiling
fan. Everyone’s wearing ironic scarves
tight like corporate ties to keep their throats
from popping ten-cent parasols, loose tobacco,
and ******** Amid their rubber flower talk,
I can pick out San Pelicano, someone critiquing
Keats’ “Politics,” and a rant regarding some
guy downtown’s stab at post-contemporary
Pointillism in some gallery I’ve never heard of.
They’re flipping between topics like a Moleskine notebook
while I skim through a copy of the Onion,
teasing the edges with a lighter I found on the floor.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 9:00 AM UTC
He throws the booster seat on the carseat
and I squeeze in among all the crap.
I close the door and he floors it.
squealing through the grocery store parking lot
blaring tech n9ne.
he almost speeds into the blackberry bushes
but jerks the wheel to the right at the last second
and makes it feel like we're gonna flip end over end at every speed bump.
he take another quick turn, a left, at the end of the lot.
we turn left again at the four way, without stopping.
he speeds up more when goin up 7th
and the car starts smoking around the trailer park.
we reach my house and he burns out in the short stub of driveway.
I get out smiling,thank him, and fall into the ditch.
The can of monster falls out of my inner pocket, so I put it back,
dig myself out, close the door, which I hadn't successfully done
and walk toward the door.
they back out, almost hitting the apartment fence
and speed off toward his house.
this is a rare moment in my life,
my dad being who he is,
stupid thrills like this are few and far between
so I treasure each and every one of em
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 12:35 PM UTC
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Sep 12, 2019
Sep 12, 2019 at 4:03 AM UTC
Bundled up, and stomping through
arctic white snow, listening
to the Love Below. I look
out on the Maid of the Mist,
the air surrounds my cold cheeks,
numbs them like an icy kiss.
Who could truly be so dumb,
brave those falls in a barrel
run? Ripley’s has me unnerved
believe it or not, the same
nervous rush I feel, before
the ***** from a booster shot.
Then after awhile, we are off
to dine in neon towers, where
we spend hours, soaking
in the bath of a night-time
sky. The glint of flush colors
reflecting against buildings.
The sounds of water raging
amidst mouthfuls of moonlight,
it looks like the world’s been staged.
But back to rest in a spiral
hotel, it’s been a lively day;
Where we pull up the covers,
and that’s where we will remain.
Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 1:55 AM UTC
i
Earl Jane, oriental poetess, thou art so down, that's why I writeth this, Earl Jane, best friend of Friend's, thine heart's open as thou doth not pretend, as so many other's do; Earl Jane, thy hand's writeth as a muse, thou art not abjected in mine room, welcomed
ii
Earl Jane, lover of all being's, agone wherein thy heartbreak Sting's, I shalt taketh thine wound's mine friend, kind, gentle, thy charity with none end, thou shalt filleth thy dream's unlike other's thinkest, thou shalt glaze the moon in color's, I'll watcheth
iii
Earl Jane, afoot beside me, its thee I shalt helpeth and guide
I seeith the passion and compassion in thine eyes, as thou art free
Earl Jane, poetica dream, taketh the rope off from around thy neck, ourn savior saved thee, as I'm here for thee to protect.
iv
Earl Jane, I knowest whence thou came: from the before life of this, wherein romantic's met the poetic flame, earl jane, Asiatic bird, let thy anguish cometh out in word's, and jot and scribe thine soul down as it glide's, and frolic for new tommorrow.
v
Earl Jane, is this helping thine sorrow? Art thou smiling now as thou shouldst? Just look at mine face if thou needeth a laugh, we both knoweth its stained, like church rose glass, I knoweth right now that thou shalt laugh, art thou smiling now? Dearest friend...
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane dedication/ friendship poem
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
Today, I let it all out.
I've ignored the situation and pushed it to the back of my mind
the way the snow plows push the snow to the side of the street.
But for some reason today I just couldn't activate the plow in my mind
that let's me forget about everything and concentrate on the moment.
I started to reminisce and with that came intoxication. I became intoxicated
by the past memories of every time you looked at me, smiled at me,
talked to me, stared at me. I was so foolish, under a rock of such false hope
that I couldn't see the signs clearly directed towards my blind eyes.
But now I can; it all didn't matter, and I don't matter. I highly
doubt you take time out of your day to allot to thinking of me
even in the slightest sense -- it's easy to fill your mind with school
and other occupants that seem to fill whatever section of your
heart could potentially be left for me. Maybe it's only convenient
for you to acknowledge me when you want to be kind or when you
just want a self esteem booster. Funny, how with one single phrase someone's
self esteem is raised while the other person's is crushed under the weight it took
in order to get those words out just to be greeted with another disappointment.
And so now I spent a while just listening to sad songs and letting out all
the tears I promised myself would never leave my eye for you in realizing
whatever I thought we had was never true.
I can't sleep because you're the first image that flashes in my head
but I can't stay awake because all I do is think about you and how
much I want to talk with you and how I can't because then I'll know
a friend is all I'll ever be but all I just want you to do is see the real
me.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 8:58 AM UTC