"bulldozing" poems
you are inches
measured by miles away
bulldozing oriental food
you don't intend on eating
around your plate
and i am imagining
the translation of asking
for a broom in a foreign language
for when you shatter over small talk
or the first sentence to start with "so"
breaks you into shaking
that i can feel from across the table
and i am thinking now
about tectonics and how you must be daydreaming of being submerged in a book
back home or gripping tightly
to bedsheets begging for familiar warmth
i can tell by the way you are looking at me
that you are feigning our salutation embrace
seconds drowned in ankle deep water and i wonder if you see my hands
as jackhammers and if the reason
why you hug so hard
but only for a moment
is to be as sharp as possible
so that i do not smell your perfume
or notice that you aren't wearing any and why
there are few suprises
in the safe you claim is a mouth
where shades of plush pink
hide a sickly pallor
and i continue to look over
brick & mortar borders
and think how maybe
she is thinking of kissing
but certainly not me
not these apologies nailed to my face
i give myself a moment
of benefitted doubt that you sometimes
picture your frame under mine
and if your clavicles would crack
if i were to touch them
i am sorry that i am a victim of imagination
but i swear i chalk it up
as the forgotten feeling
for when you look up
and the person you are looking
at is gazing directly at you
you have painted yourself
as a mosaic in my mind
as a mess of dust & incoherent words
that all sound like please in my ears
but that doesn't explain why
my hands are the ones that are shaking
when i imagine you
imagining me
in the spaces of yourself
where you've forgotten
you could put someone
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 7:32 PM UTC
maple-cured, smoked, rawhide hands,
tarantula hands bulldozing rice onto
tines like an icebreaker ramming through
glacial bergs, Holly
Golightly on the tv, on
mute, and oh those hips,
that figure, in that black dress,
banana hands cracking Alaskan king
crablegs and ******* the juice and eating
the meat, legs spindly and hairy
and soaked in butter, dripping,
liver cooking, roasting, sloshed on gin,
cribbage board patinaed
in dust, he eats his liver, downs
another gin, cracks another leg, crab
hair caught in his teeth, Holly talking about
getting the mean reds but he can’t
hear it, his luck run out,
his luck a prize from a box of ******* Jack,
and the snarling throb in his head,
cinderblock face, cinderblock house,
3-day-stubble, has he had enough (to drink)?
not by the stubble of his
chinny-chin-chin,
liver is gone, crab is gone,
so he eats the eyes,
dowsing his ******* Jacks
in gin, yesterday wine-in-a-box
and Cheez-Whiz, sprayed right into his
unbrushed maw, a one-person wine-
and-cheese fête classy as it gets,
he’s Mister High Society,
Cheez-Whiz crust in his stubble,
and a cinderblock CRASHES to the floor and it’s
lights out, and Holly, still no one
to hear her, saying
she’ll never let anyone put her in a cage.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
Man enters the tavern
Claps down some cash and outbursts ;
'Thirsty Things Firstly !'
The barman evaluates his condition
And provides a session brew
Man tilts toward potential company
(a ferrety bloke in the shadows)
"Pull up that stack of milk crates
And halve a heart with me"
(he earns a quick friend
in a tolerant stranger)
Soon fellow gaspers fill out the gloom
And an eve of humour descends
Though soon upending
Gourds downed the gullet
Sunk ugly into the scene
The tippling wit drags the night
to the Slurry Pit
things turn Psychologically Rugged
his Mates soon round on him
bulldozing at the Elbows
saying he's a Cheapskate
they Berate him with rigorous Rattleprat
he's been goated with the Cain's mark
they tousle his crown malicious
Thorough in his cups and eaves
he mumbles and leaves
heaving up bile words
unheard
gurgle
over
his
shoulder
outside is dark and harsh
Outside the whole wild world does wail and weary
drunkenly
he sings to match its melancholy
but sadness lifts with his altered view
he sees 'a flock of moons' weigh down the sky
and natures churn
makes a phosphorescent stew of it all
... decay
to lifes' celebration
Jun 27, 2022
Jun 27, 2022 at 9:04 PM UTC
When I’m drunk, I’m somehow in love with you.
Yet sober, my heart is still walking back,
Often hitch-hiking its way from the past.
What deep-buried chest does alcohol drown
and force open, pouring forth its magic?
And bulldozing over every brick wall?
I huff and I puff, bad as I may seem,
But I can never shake my own walls nor
Create a crack to call my very own.
They can show the start but never the end.
Does utopia stop at the altar?
Will reality hit after this kiss?
I once read somewhere that in order to
Know the future you have to create it.
So, why don't people make the best future?
For so many out there love seems to end,
Restricted from breathing after its birth.
Your choices decide whether you wed or mourn.
As I climbed the steps to your pedestal,
I was wondrously falling in love,
not realizing I could ever hit a bottom.
Knocked down by the actions you chose to take,
Held down by the mistakes I chose to make,
I hope that never happens again.
You see, the first time I was shocked,
Confused as to what was going on, numb.
But the second time really woke me up.
Behold your boldness, your victory grin.
Ignorance was everyone else's bliss.
But I didn't make a sound, how could I?
I didn't want to show other people
the struggles and **** I was wading through.
The beginnings of lust, the ending of love.
I can never tell my family 'cause
My parents would probably call the cops,
and I can't hug you if you're locked in jail.
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
I’m a hard-hearted woman;
I’ve seen too much of life.
I’ve seen the conflict, I’ve seen the strife.
I’ve seen the kindergarten
with its bombed-out walls.
And I know that your tax dollars
paid for it all.
Killing people in their homes,
in their hospitals, and schools,
was outlawed by the world
after World War II.
Do you need to question why
it breaks all the rules?
Putting people into camps,
and bulldozing where they lived--
so you can steal their land--
is a crime I can’t forgive.
There has to be one Law
for us all, on this planet.
There is no such thing as justice
if everyone can’t have it.
Your people aren’t special,
and no, they’re not “Chosen.”
They’re grandiose fanatics,
shooting, bombing and
bulldozing.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 11:14 PM UTC
It was only a tiny village then
Away from the thoroughfare,
Had existed since I don’t know when
With a grassy village square,
There were only seven ancient cars
In the narrow village streets,
And none of them travelled very far
For the shop stocked milk, and treats.
It hadn’t seen much of progress since
The days of old King John,
Who’d lost his jewels in The Wash, by Mintz
Near the town of Oberon,
The villagers there were set in ways
That caused nobody harm,
But when Lars came from Oberon
There was cause to feel alarm.
For Lars was the local planner for
The town of Oberon,
He’d dragged it kicking and screaming
Into the century just gone,
He’d widened streets, and cancelled Meets
In the old stone Mason’s Hall,
By bulldozing their building, leaving
Folk with a low stone wall.
He’d passed it all with an ordinance
That had given him total power,
The council caved to his arrogance,
All that he did was glower,
He put street lights on the corners, and
He acted like a prince,
And when he was done with Oberon
He set his sights on Mintz.
He drove on down to their village square
And he said it wouldn’t do,
He’d turn the square to a thoroughfare
So the cars could drive right through,
He didn’t care when the people there
Said ‘Leave our square alone!’
He said, ‘I’m passing an ordinance,
So you might as well go home.’
The local hall was agog that night
There’d never been such a crowd,
The villagers all were up in arms,
‘This fool shouldn’t be allowed!’
‘This calls for a special meeting,’ said
The spokesman, Rupert Bragg,
‘We’ll have to call on the village witch,
The widow, Nancy Stag!’
They all poured out of the village hall
And they went to see the witch,
Who was busily mixing potions in
A cauldron and a dish,
‘You’ll not be needing my magic,’ said
Old Nancy, with a smile,
‘If you all agree with my plan, you’ll see,
That Lars will run a mile.’
She asked the women to stay behind
While the men went on their way,
‘I mean the ones over seventy,
The rest can go or stay,’
They huddled up with the village witch
And applauded Nancy’s plan,
‘We’ll send him scuttling off from Mintz,
You’ll see, he’s only a man!’
When Lars came down in his private car
They met him in the square,
Holding banners and placards, but
That’s not what made him stare,
‘You’d better get back to Oberon
Or we’ll march there, for our rights,’
He turned, and hurriedly left the square,
They all were dressed in tights!’
David Lewis Paget
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 4:06 AM UTC
As the rain is drumming against the pavement
I hurdle over
The clenched arms
Of couples kissing before class
Whispering into each other's mouths
"I'll miss you"
Please keep your pants on
You'll see each other in one hour
Assistant principal
Pushing people to class
Sweeping halls
Like the NSA
Sweeping Sarah Palins email
Swerving around students stalling
In the center of the hall
Screen shooting
Their recently opened snapchats
Bulldozing my way through
High school cliques
Huddled around that cute boys locker
I finally make it to physical science
And I'm wondering
If god passed physical science
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 8:37 AM UTC
Middle of the night
LED lights
Displaying Silver City
The streets under it are too gritty
Is this what is comprised in the Central City?
Can't vent to the Committee
That will solve nothing
That's my greatest frusturation
Homeless number is growing
The only place to sleep in is getting in the towing
There's not enough ways of knowing
Due to lack of exposure
The only way I'll feel any closure
Is when they decide to take action
Put these sentiments intro traction
I've been solving the fractions
Days and days on
I will play on
This song
Because it has been far too long
Kicking the Homeless in tents
Yet allow these women to be around Men that could put them in a ditch
Harassed and disrespected
You can gratify away, defect
You can't always detect
Danger
I've been carrying these thoughts like a Hangar
And now it's time to egress
I'm not doing it to impress
I'm putting morals to the test
I vastly detest
These Men groping and trying to look under their dress
And allow it
When there's desperate people needing a place to stay
And they disavow it
Bulldozing old homes where they stay to build new ones
Instead of renovating them
These rich folks coming in
Voting Democrat
Which is the party of the Mayor
Who doesn't give a Rat's
***
About any of them
The effrontery to call this city silver
Is appalling
When there's people who need helping
And there's been nothing but stalling
Your perception of hitting the gold is rich cars, mansions and throngs of women
What an edged omen
Mine is a cheap and efficient car, modest house and a wife I come home to every night
That's my Silver City
Don't need to blow hundreds to celebrate
When there is much more important things in life to value
Forget being scared of the poor
Try to open them doors
Get the number of poverty off the floor
And into something more
Serene
That's the kind of life that is
Supreme.
Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 4:22 AM UTC
i want to ***** out everything held inside of me,
yank the remnant gunpowder from my throat
and load a pistol to destroy the ghosts that crawl forth
from the cramped black holes of my memory.
The sound of your name makes my vision turn crimson
and my feet cling to the ceiling.
What you did
is too much
for me to carry,
haunting me in ways i do not understand
morphing me into creatures i cannot bury.
i never even notice you've seeped into something,
until its too late.
i surface gasping in the middle of a fit of confusion
to realize that your grubby, sticky hands
are tainting
my every movement
waking
and
sleeping,
dancing
my legs on puppet strings.
Iron-locked hinges control my hips opening,
closing,
opening,
rusted and stuck in a position i refused,
a place i did not agree to be folded into.
Weighted down by the heaviness of you
your mass
your gravity
bulldozing me into glass shards, and blindly
mixing my fragments
with
mud
and dust
and
ashen debris.
A resin of my innards is caked dry
under your ragged fingernails.
They snag at the holes in my tights
and i feel the unwashable stickiness of me
skid
against my skin.
The room is pitch black
but i can see splotched neon demons
lurking in the corner behind my back.
And the gurgling of the television
is harmonizing with my rasping,
and my tired anger,
in a key i can't decipher,
although it sounds minor.
What an ominous overtone, dangling
over our dizzy heads.
Stop trying to scare me,
soften me into your arms.
I am the monster in this room, remember?!?!
There is almost too much guilt
in my sandy mouth
to make room for another insistent plea.
Stop.
STOP.
I
am
not
joking.
I
am
not
a
joke.
I
am
not
a
target.
Or something
to crush
and ****
up your nose.
i'm much too grotesque for any of that.
I'm the monster here, remember?
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 7:56 PM UTC
Breaking down armor, bulldozing down walls accidentally,
Of course it’s only right it happened at 3am in my car, rain down pouring, unsuspecting.
The most vulnerable and raw glimpse of who you really are,
A taste of your core; crying, crumbling, chest ripped wide open for me to see
Your fiercely pounding heart; your blue-green eyes somehow more vibrant
Against red, puffy skin; dark eyelashes clumping haphazardly, clinging against
The storm raging inside of your soul, echoed by thunder on the highway; the quivering of your voice, your trembling hands, you surrender,
displaying emotion so deep, more powerful than any song
I’ve ever heard; a moment that took my breath away
Like nothing has before.
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 2:57 AM UTC
They're bulldozing over your gravesite
To make more ******* apartments
Hey! Let's add more idiots to the mix
To forget you exist
This is where we'd go to hid our secret
No one will ever know the extent of it
So I throw your poetry in fire pits
To resurrect your presence
In the here and now my angel
I'm so elated you found peace
Though, I'm stuck under construction
Seeking ways to embrace the living
Were seperated by dimensions
Intention is key
I reach out for your hands everytime there's a breeze
You couldnt even give me a reason
Let alone write a letter
About what went down during your last fight to get better
Oh, i cried violently same as each false alarm
Each time you challenged death
He came back stronger than before
I want you to hammer away
On my puny brain
Take my memories
But leave their stain
Because not even I can embrace it's rich paint
Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 11:41 AM UTC
I remember the dark room
And me,
A singular broken thing.
My tears perennial
Coursed the ground in all directions;
As the sky of my body shook
Quivering in the precipitation
Of all identities lost.
I remember the dark room
And me,
Lost and disgusted with the self
That could evoke
Such supreme loathing from a being
Who was the altar
To all the love my heart could outpour.
I remember the dark room
Like a cage with a dying bird.
And me,
The dying blind bird
Whom the moon refused to shelter.
It was a carnage of bullets,
A rain of misgiving pellets
Against the visage of my mind.
Mutilated in agony,
I stooped lower
Hoping the ground would offer
What the moon had refused to surrender.
Inside that dark room,
It rained like acid
From the hollow of his mouth
Down to the narrow tunnel of my ears.
The salty bitterness of tears
Was the most sensible, recognizable feeling
That my tongue remembers.
I remember the dark room,
Where he made his dark love to me
Crushing me under the pressure
Of his bulldozing affair.
His venomous tentacles searched insatiably inside
My insides
Only to find nothing…
After all,
The salinity of the tongue,
Was as infertile as the salinity of the soil.
My lungs wanted to abscond my body,
And while fleeing
Spit onto him
The warm blood
Desperate to break
Into the pitch black order of the dark room
Between our legs
In rebellious hues of reds.
Before I could count further revolutions
Of the motionless ceiling fan
He had had enough of his regular persecutions.
It was over.
Crystals of sweat
Overhung over his
Serpentine back.
And in the dark room with the dusty cage
There glistened
A million shards of human debris.
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 1:42 AM UTC
Thoughtless Day
I was looking out of the window
The view was a road and an opposite wall
And I decided to think of nothing
Emptying my brain for all the ******* and
Lies I had read today and let it sink into the silt
Of the forgotten yet is silt that one day can be
made of mud and do a lasting service
for mankind, and since the settlers keep bulldozing
Palestinian dwellings, no, no I will not think of
This and why should I since I'm not thinking
Like the rest of the world.
Man, it is difficult not to think about love and death
And all the things in between so I look at the white wall
It is five years it was painted, but it still looks new.
No, this is too hard I will go and make a coffee eat
A biscuit and think the freezer need to be defrosted
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 5:20 AM UTC
I miss the way he feels.
Under me.
On me.
Beside me.
Under me watching my every move.
Guiding my waist.
Lips being smushed as I warn him
To monitor his moans
Although I enjoy hearing him whisper
Yes, yes, yes
On me pressing his weight so I can't move
His face so serious until I pull him so close I can't see him anymore
Thrusting his body so that each stroke feels like someone is bulldozing my body
Wondering how no one can hear us because our bodies are screaming so loud and breaths becoming so rhythmic
it's almost disrespectful
Beside me letting me fall asleep on his chest while he plays video games as he waits to wake me back up
Kissing me all the while so I have the sweetest dreams
forehead, kiss
hair, kiss
hand, kiss
cheek, kiss
Then I'm up
I miss the way he feels under on beside
Me.
I just want you near.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC
This happened to catch my eye
The truth behind all of the lies
I looked for the honesty
And I just came up empty
It was I who was full of mistrust
I couldn't understand why
The anger exploded within
I couldn't even try
No effort
No motivation
Life was one big mistake
I set the ball rolling
Fear was all I felt
Pushing goodness away
I wanted to experience the pain
And that's exactly what I fucking got
Turning heads
Making others cry
And I wanted to cry too
I couldn't see the way
It was blind to me
Why was I so inconsiderate
It wasn't my intention
But it was still there
No apologizing
Just a ******* disaster
Waiting to happen
And so it was...
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 10:35 AM UTC
i'm sure i was nothing before i met you
a blue girl looking for new colors on a palate that only bore one
i'm sure i was only a shell of what i could be before i met you
a blue girl looking at a green, orange, red-blond boy that could be her new home
tall like a tower, booming like thunder, laughter like music playing steadily on a summer eve
you were a stark difference compared to me, yet you were still perfect
well, as perfect as any green, orange, red-blond boy could be.
tennis shoes the same color as my sad sad soul, connecting to legs crashing their way into my mad mad world
you know exactly what you do to me
but do you dare stop?
no, of course not
since when did boys like you stop for girls like me?
bulldozing, red lights, screaming, violet nights
i was everything next to you, yet nothing the second you leave
i'm a blue girl searching for a green, orange, red-blond boy that could be her new backbone
she can't stand on her own
she can't she can't she can't-
i can't stand on my own.
Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 11:59 AM UTC
yes, I do plan on ******* bulldozing through this life
I am no Hazel Grace
I do not mind that the marks I leave are often scars
because scars, I think, can be beautiful
and I have never wanted to leave this world unmarked.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 9:33 AM UTC
Reading Journal #1
Rummage a book
I’m done bulldozing
about how much I
kaleidoscope textbooks.
Pick up Exodia and
obliterate me to the
shadow-realm
(Get to point? Ok.)
Reading Journal #2
Syllables
Gibberish.
Lectures
Syllables.
ZzZz
Gibberish.
9/5 work
Reading Journal #3
I’m scrabbling syllables to
strut them like drag queens
I’m bored out of vulture-brains.
I got gigolo-fingers
I rummage up a ********
like college porn-stars.
Reading Journal #4
****
****
Lectures
College.
****
??
Newton.
Reading Journal #4
Do you read Britannica Dictionaries,
an alligator of an FAQ?
It Einsteins verbiages like ****
man and s u c k s
I’ll add abbreviations the next time
I scribble average joe mean-girls-esque
diaries.
Reading Journal #5
…Awkward,
I don’t remember writing
this Morse code doggynote.
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 2:20 PM UTC
My world .
My life.
My love.
Are fragile toys that complete me.
My time is shorter.
My world is getting darker.
My life is moving slower.
My love bulldozing my body harder..
My life.
My soul.
For you..
Yes YOU...
I know..
I know..
I have to let you go..
One day ...
But not today.
And not tomorrow..
One day...
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 7:26 AM UTC