"canceled" poems
be still - do not blink
I can’t wait to remember
this moment with you
one hundred kids drown -
Community is canceled-
what a sad world!
face lit by the screen
empty head, so full of thought
digging for some truth
aimlessly driving
through a beautiful landscape
made ugly by roads
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 5:08 PM UTC
I haven't left my house or showered or been outside or opened my blinds in a week and a half. I feel like a limp noodle, I have no motivation to do anything. I haven't been to work and I have canceled counseling twice. I feel ill if my mother tries to make me eat more than once a day. I wonder if anyone notices what's happening to me. I wonder if anyone knows the pain gnawing at my heart and causing this lump in my throat. I wonder if they care.
Every little thing is hurting me. The way that others think of me, the way they speak of me, the way they ignore me, the way they treat me. Everything is just there in my head, swirling around over and over. How needy I am, how annoying I am, how I can't control my drinking, how over-emotional and dramatic I am.
I wonder if anyone knows why the things that they say and think and feel about me effect me so much. Because it's me that they don't like. It's me that they're insulting. You can ask me to change and I can act different, but it's still me. I deal with it every day. I feel every emotion to the very bottom of me. There's no reaction that I act out that doesn't express exactly how I am feeling. My emotions run deep to the core of me. If they say that I am too much, I simply am. That is me, exactly. I can't bare myself at times; Imagine being me every day.
So why not just love me and accept me for being so entirely honest and so real. I'm something hard to fathom, I understand, but all I am is all I ever were and all that I can be. I have masked myself for everyone "I'm fine. I'm always fine." Don't let me deceive you, it's my favorite line. Inside I am crying, inside I am dying and on the outside I'm lying. Understand this; My tears are all dried up and I have ****** back into myself to please you. I am trying so hard to provide the silence that you have requested; so don't ask me why I've disappeared. Don't ask me why I am wasting my life away in a 'cave'. Don't ask me why I won't come out. Don't ask me why I won't speak or smile or cry or yell. Don't ask me why I am lacking emotion. Notice, but don't ask.
I will tell you once again. There is nothing that I feel that does not entirely devour me. Nothing that I feel that doesn't consume my every thought and every second of my existence. You told me to be silent. You asked me to stop feeling the way that I do. So I have emptied myself, to the bottom of me, just to please all of you.
k.d.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
Tough
A poem.
—————
I can’t deal with anyone’s crap.
I got to much blood and boulders,
On my back.
Fighting back the past,
Never been able to relax.
I don’t know if anyone can tell,
—Or if anyone cares,
But I'm about to crack.
they creep up,
Bruises cover much.
Random hallucinations—
Severe pain.
No one's understanding,
—or listening.
My brain is in such a bad headache,
I feel like my insides are blistering.
Fidgeting.
Numbness.
Pain.
Fainting.
Brain making—
Random movements.
All a loss of control.
Appointments got canceled,
“WHY!!!— HOW MANY MORE!?”
When does someone call it-
“Enough!?”
I’m NOT….THIS tough.
Aug 8, 2025
Aug 8, 2025 at 11:18 PM UTC
You're sitting across a table, in the next room- and it's the month of July.
And as the beads of sweat chip off your forehead
like a shank of butcher's meat,
your dorcel fin peaks through the sand where my toes peak through. The picnic table where I write letters; post cards.
I take photos, make reservations, and
even after I'm canceled on for walking around
downtown in my bright neon-pink underwear, I still roll to the
left side of the bed sit up and drop the cigarette I fell asleep on. You're just sitting, first entry: Stardom.
I don't have room for you in the corners.
The corners of this room, padded walls,
shifty vaseline sway- the white cotton stick
of a sucker pointing out of your mouth, its red numero forty dye shines
in the specks of light flicking
out of the horizon like a carousel ride
around and around.
I'm getting a bit dizzy, and even less honest.
If you want to see me spring,
like the silly string on my birthday, yellow silly-putty; molding the monster face,
I observe you through a kaleidoscope of dexedrine and morphine.
Your catastrophe with Xanax, passed out
in alien-green ******* at that party in the abandoned firehouse
on News St., how you could lay trust on me after that
(a daydream with sawing you called me)
sixteen-year-old mishap of an afternoon.
&
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:31 AM UTC
makeup smudged, mascara runs
down the face of that stupid *****
Canceled plans, teenage antics are now ******* up and forgotten
fooling everyone but her self, she wears her heart upon her sleeve
wrapped up in others concerns, forgotten who she use to be
only comfortable when not her self, what a depressing life to lead
She is on a leash being tugged and pulled, she knows she has a master
behind the painted nails and the perfect scented perfume lies a ***** at deaths door
Jan 1, 2010
Jan 1, 2010 at 1:43 PM UTC
I wait, excited for when I see you again.
touch your fingers
kiss your lips
hear your voice.
But you always wanted more.
Because instead of wanting to see me
you wanted to see how the dress you bought looked on my body,
instead of touching my fingers
you wanted to invade the parts of my body i regarded sacred,
instead of kissing my lips
you wanted to devour my mouth
and dominate me to show how weak i am,
instead of hearing my voice
you wanted moans and cries of pleasure
screams for the world to hear that I belong to you.
I sit here on the bed.
After your rounds of happiness and my forced labor.
I ask you who was the girl that you were so clearly flirting with last night and you tell me it was just harmless flirting
and I bite my tongue
because i wanted to scream at you
Is it harmless,
that when you canceled on our date because you said you were sick,
someone told me that they saw you at a club, that you were gripping that girl's waist
and grinding on her like you were her man?
Is it harmless,
that everyday you rub it in my face how immensely inexperienced and timid i am
compared to the other girls you've been with?
Is it harmless,
that you asked me if it's okay if you ***** other girls
and I was taken aback and it was clear that I didn't approve?
You said
"They don't really mean anything, I just need some variety."
I knew right there that even if I didn't allow you, you'd still do it.
And right now
I’m just confused more than ever as I ask you again
What exactly we are and you say
“We're exclusively dating.”
But most of the time it’s more like
exclusively ********
with each other
with other emotions
with our non-existent commitments.
Because after just a mere 5 minutes of you being with me
and I refuse to spread my legs for you,
you have the nerve to lie to my face and look me in the eye and say
"My love for you gets stronger everyday."
And I swoon, being the naive little girl that I am
I am hung up on your words and I say yes when you ask me if we're okay.
But I know that by okay you mean okay with being invaded.
And with every pound, with every ******
The word love is replaced by lust
so now the sentence is
"My lust for you gets stronger everyday
and my love for you decreases the same."
I am so tired and so worn down from the weight of all my insecurities and you come hobbling in with your own bag of insecurities and stick it inside of me which you only do when other girls don't want you to.
Well guess what
For the first time in my life,
I'm
gonna
say
no.
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 11:20 PM UTC
I'm from apple pies
and endless blue skies.
A world that's plastered
with sweets and smiles that are backwards.
I'm from stagnant desks
that smell grotesque.
Schools that steal children's thoughts.
A place where all your free will rots.
I'm from a house seemingly warm
but inside lays a giant storm.
Yells and cries fill the walls
while the skeleton of hope fills the halls.
I'm from a place
that hates every "F" I obtain.
But with an "A" what would I gain?
Just some fake encouragement to make me vain.
I'm from "Hallelujah"
to crucify ya.
"Worship me or to hell you go"
But how would they even know?
I'm from backyard playing under the sun
until my friends deemed it no longer fun.
Canceled plans; left alone
have turned my gooey heart into stone.
I'm from broken mirrors
to cover up my fears;
to hide my reflection
and hope that I won't see my new direction.
I'm from the ending
but I'm not from the beginning
I'm just a finish to this puzzle.
I am the end.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 6:05 PM UTC
What is a Miracle?
Winning the lottery?
Picking up a heads-up penny?
A granted 11:11 wish?
Canceled class?
A promotion?
No.
Those are miracles.
What is a Miracle?
An A on a test?
Winning the “big game”?
Having a secret admirer?
Nope.
Still miracles.
So what defines a Miracle?
What makes the big M?
Where can I buy it?
Where does it come from?
A Miracle is experiencing
Love at First Sight
Getting kissed on the forehead
when the rain trickles down your blushed cheeks
A Miracle is hearing someone
Sing out loud to their favorite song in the car
Unafraid and Unabandoned
A Miracle is hearing one’s
“Dorky Laugh”
with the Snort in it
A Miracle is being faced with your own Mortality
and being given a Second Chance.
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 9:45 PM UTC
You won't hear me complaining
That it's raining.
You won't hear me sigh
Because of something canceled
Due to the weather.
Rain is
Rejuvenating,
Relaxing,
and Enlightening.
At least for me.
Rain allows me to
Relax
with a nice cup of tea.
Or,
rain allows me,
to think
about all the things
normally looked over
every day.
Rain also allows me to appreciate
more of what's around me,
it's lulling, pulsing rhythm
beating against the drum
called Earth.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 11:50 AM UTC
1289
Left in immortal Youth
On that low Plain
That hath nor Retrospection
Nor Again—
Ransomed from years—
Sequestered from Decay
Canceled like Dawn
In comprehensive Day—
1.9k
Smoking out of your roommates' hookah,
we blow smoke rings into the center of the room as our heads press into the backs of couches.
Drinking out of plastic cups and writing **** LYFE" on our knuckles
we dabble in the witchcraft of half-truths.
I feel beautiful in this moment.
Wearing combat boots, torn tights and a cardigan
I stomp through your living room not giving two *****
I flirt with the table,
the chairs
and even your brother.
Tonight is about me.
I had woken up this morning with a ****** piercing and curls stuck to my neck,
my fists balled up in soft blankets.
Doubting everything,
I tried running through my thoughts with my eyes shut,
only picking up fragments of sentences and bad music.
A full moon
and a monroe
the only tangible proof that last night even happened.
I have grown accustomed to holding my own hand in public,
taking up the place that I had reserved for you.
With our lunch date canceled, I'm free to go dancing with poets and *** heads.
Twist my fingers into the hem of the skirts that tickle my knee caps,
I laugh as loud as my lungs will allow.
If you looked at the back of my throat you might see the words I am saving for a much anticipated stranger.
A beautiful doe-eyed stranger who drinks me in like his favorite liquor.
"You can never have too much of a good thing, babe."
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 1:23 AM UTC
I'm smiling out of no reason,
talking to your pictures
for I don't have the courage
to talk to you in person,
I'm writing a letter I won't send,
every time I see you
my heart skips a beat
and it's a fact that I'm so stupid.
There were times I dialed your number,
but then I just canceled it, my choice,
well, it seems so hard for me
to hear even a single word
from your voice,
I can't speak what my heart
is beating so loud,
and it's a fact that I'm still
hiding in the clouds.
It's the unusual me,
and I don't even know it,
honestly, I'm always a coward
when it comes to you,
my smiles couldn't conceal
these feelings I feel for you
and it's a fact that I'm here
just waiting.
Waiting for the right time, I guess.
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 11:16 PM UTC
FFFFUUUUUCCCCKKKKKKKK
faded forlorn fractured fragmented
completely de-clinted
traded torn tossed to the trash
canceled check counterfeit cash
broken yet again
just another somewhen
except my fault this time
twas my non-rhyme
how do you go from happier
to happiest
to burst into the worst
have you ever felt the squeeze that crushes the heart of a star
been unable to breathe because of the death of all you are
how do you continue when what you knew isn't true
if love is rendered irrelevant then whatever do you do
scenery never seen
barely even imagined
suddenly miracled me
actually ******* happened
but it abandoned me soon thereafter
never to whisper another chapter
shhhhh don't listen to this
shut up your only kiss
for 7 months fate was my favorite writer
destiny my best-friend editor
then suddenly they were evil censors
love unlucked me faster
than I could even begin to breathe
luck unloved me farther
than even I could ever believe
my fingertips still feel Yur breast
my lingering lips tasting Yur heartbeat
I still feel Yur body pressed to my chest
Yur embrace keeping me safe in my sleep
now all around me
nothings surround me
i am the epitome of empty
cobwebbed memory
a soul's stifled breath
destined for dusty death
how do you exist in the happy happy joy joy world outside
when everything that matters has been crushed inside
how do you explain how everything is worthless
when you've never been worth less
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
My melody lies in my Melanie and my Melanie has been lost
A casualty to this reality and love, sadly, the cost
And my Melanie will forever go as she came, with a smile
With me standing sighing, with insides crying and trying all the while
To find music in the world that's sorefully out of key
For the melody has been lost to me along with Melanie
The song is off and the musical canceled, the birds staring silent
All colors have seemed to have faded and I hear the unnatural quiet
And all I can find is I long for a melody
The world, decieving, has me believing that music has been lost to me
And I find Melanie may be gone to me, but she's not who I'm mourning
Overtures and scores all scream that the melody was the dream
The dream that happiness was two heart kisses away
That I could bring my passion for her as I do the melody in my day
So I have now the truth written on my brow and Melanie I no longer resent
Me being in the symphony of love without an instrument
But I will play once more...
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 9:11 AM UTC
Tommy guns for insurance
And wads of sweaty cash
To build new empires with
But there are no guarantees
Crime, you see, doesn't pay
You can bank on it
So we already know how it ends:
They canceled his policy
And Dunaway with her
Feb 21, 2022
Feb 21, 2022 at 11:18 AM UTC
Ring the Bell for Old DePauw, Ha!
Here's to Cold DePauw
Here's to passing cars.
Here's to winter, Here's to bars.
Here's to frozen Noses, rigid Fingers
Sore Livers, rough Throats.
Here's to Shivers.
Remember the beginning
Remember waking up
Remember lost keys.
Remember yesterday,
A year ago?
Remember that longboard we found
Amongst the art.
Remember that sculpture,
And the moving stone.
Remember Heathrow.
Here's to dreaming.
Let there be Lighters!
And ashtrays!
Let there be fireworks
Keep the air and the friends in
Keep the door closed.
Keep it locked,
But let the noise out.
Keep the fan on.
Give me shelter
give me recollection,
give me choice
give me space.
We need more love
more canceled flights,
need more VHS,
more wine
more cheese,
we need more heartbreak,
more sweet dreams.
Let us keep pictures
Let us keep letters
Let us keep papers
Let us keep sweaters
And glitter,
Keep it all.
Let us keep it alive.
Jul 31, 2011
Jul 31, 2011 at 5:37 PM UTC
Of all of the days to sleep in this late
Why did I have to choose today
The revolution we'd been planing along
I'm sure was already underway
I grabbed my bag, thank goodness already packed
And headed for the door
I ran out so fast my dog was aghast
My feet barely touching the floor
When I arrived at the park
I saw none of my friends
There were old ladies knitting shawls
Old men playing rummy and gin
I was already there
So I refused to go home
The revolution got canceled
And I wasn't informed
So I stood up on my soapbox
And yelled listen to me
All the old folks gathered round
As I gave the greatest of speech
I talked of how long
We'd been beat down by the man
As I went point by point
Of my intricate plan
There came weakened shouts
From a few in the crowd
While the hearing impaired
Wondered what all the fuss was about
We all moved to the street
With luck a Boy Scout happened by
To help all the old ladies across
But only one at a time
We surrounded Dairy Queen first
Because they have ice cream soft serve
Which goes down so smooth
When your wearing dentures
Next we did a flash mob
In the local Right-Aid
There were old women swinging purses
And old men waving canes
They all slowly shuffled down
The adult diaper aisle
Where they stripped the shelves clean
With raspy giggles and wrinkly smiles
Things were running so smoothly
According to revolutionary plans
We were creating social havoc
And sticking it BAD to the man
In the middle of the craze
My cell phone it rang
It was my radical friends
Wondering where I have been
I'm a tad bit embarrassed
That's the least I can say
In my mad rush to arrive
I went to the wrong park today
So I snuck out the back of Rite-Aid
As the swat team arrived
If I had a conscience I'd feel bad
In leaving my new old friends behind
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 7:56 AM UTC
I was given a riddle where the waters run red
I was given hope from a forgotten friend
I found a hard stone lying in the soft grass
I sat and I waited for more time to pass
With each breath, the clouds drifted by
The song bird hummed and the day became night
A crack in the distance as the land split in two
The handmaid fled to an evening rendezvous
Bright ripples formed in the fabric of time
I showed up and found I was last in line
I peered at my watch looking for answers
The clock exclaimed “now!” and the futures been canceled
And though the cold tightens my skin
And the cricket sings my song
The road is full of twists, turns and heartache
But it was never very long
Sep 8, 2021
Sep 8, 2021 at 5:13 PM UTC
It's only a paper-mache
moon, they say, too cool,
too full of interstellar space
to sympathize or stress about
lovers, kings and fools.
Or is it? According to Deutsch
the so-called final ignition
into outer space
is a product of man's meditations
moving, as if via gravitation
the magician to the other end
of the expanding universe. Sure,
in yr computer. Meanwhile, nursed
in a nursing home, mewling and peeing
as accurately predicted by Shakespeare
my old Marine, an ex-sailor, bitter
at life's ending, waited
too long to dispatch with dignity.
All alone, as in Corbiere's poem,
old soldiers are fated
to fight unnecessary wars
as we all are. Except for the fact that
every helium and hydrogen atom
ever born or made (whatever you believe)
has taken positions, passionate
and predetermined as republicans and dobermans
over eons and epochs. Thus
I don't think it behooves us much to care
if we're getting too little clean air or
bacteria are better adapted than us. This
obsession with identity, survival
a name and a leg of lamb is lame
even uninspired. The entire universe
including the professional baseball season
is canceled when yr dead. No blame.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 5:24 PM UTC
i.
one ground to another runs itself rock and rock in the unclosed pebbles of dirt open to aching at the wire your father fixes for free in the canceled warning of crow made gauze for blacktops poured not wholly over a woman-
she a belt buckle drunk pocked full the called back joy of a pop gun.
ii.
over glass I go with my milk bottle feet to church after church past mirrors sick and doctored.
iii.
needs hisself a dog he does the speechless boy drawn mother to his own mute breast -
so he clicks the roach of his tongue
makes a hole with the hole in his sock
makes tunnel sounds.
iv.
my aunt’s ear like a deformed thumb.
my aunt dreaming she says for two.
my aunt changing her mind, her mind
a mid-bread knife.
v.
soldiers able to turn in the throat a chicken bone straight.
vi.
for muscles: jaw down nightly the door of a stove,
jaw it up,
and salute.
vii.
tiny cups cured with sugar cubes and stilled with steam taken
from a skinned
train-born
pig, a train
of blackest
fur.
viii.
about ladders and war, about the devil-
a man stands on his hands in three feet of water. about god-
marco. marco.
ix.
the blue dolls and the gray dolls and the care with which the chosen choose cloth and after
all of it
some meat colored cloth.
x.
water knows your lips, and mine; takes our mouths
on faith.
xi.
*top teeth on the skin of an apple. top teeth mine. a test of joy, joy’s age. mama stepping on a scale holding my brother. mama putting him down, cocking her head, picking him up. asking for a towel. asking nicely be a good brother. the towel, hot from bread, sick with ants. heavy my mouth with sorry sorry. my slapped mouth, my loved love. mama’s hands back from hell. dish soap mama hands
uncut by the hair long had by my head.*
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 9:23 AM UTC