"capacity" poems
The world's gone mad but my mind is made up.
Time to let ya'll into the darkroom of my mind,
A place where I'm the referee of a poetic world cup.
This is where I am creative even though I'm blind
Don't get me wrong I am not leaving from town.
No more radio or TV saturated with all the sad news,
I have got enough breaking news of my very own...
Breaking to me each and every moment as it brews.
Come and meet the hard drive of my creative doom,
That contains my beautiful and liberated mind.
Welcome to my one bright side I call my darkroom,
It's a place that's so special, I reckon it's one of a kind.
You have to know that I always act blind but I see.
In my mind, I can walk stack naked and levitate.
My mind is where I remain totally black and free.
Come join me set my poetic dial and help me activate,
The code that will outshine any power on this earth.
My mind is where I live and where nobody has access,
Here I can run a poetic marathon without taking a breath,
Call it my playground and intellectual fortress.
My mind is deep, a place of absolute calm and refuge,
Somewhere I will always see as the final frontier.
It is dangerous and toxic like a nuclear centrifuge.
In there, I am all alert and vigilant like a soldier.
My mind is a darkroom where I give birth to new ideas.
It is a vessel and place in which I do magic with letters.
It is my holy land of thoughts, my own creative Judea,
Where each idea is sacred and light as bird feathers.
Welcome to the epicenter of my creative mind.
This is where I turn letters into spoken words
A front line of creativity where no one leaves behind.
Come and see where all words become useful swords.
My mind produces powerful words like some light beams...
Courageous and powerful words for extra motivation.
Spoken Words that will light up people's faded dreams.
Now you know that up in my mind are no limitation,
There exists an enormous capacity of time and space.
Welcome one, welcome all to the darkroom of my mind
Take a seat and be calm, be quiet this is my place
For this here is my personal creative post of command.
www.poemhunter.com/IvanBrookssr
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twitter @ivanclappers
@Bassapoet
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 10:52 PM UTC
its been
moments since I thought about you
in any capacity
minutes since
I remembered some portion of our story
hours since I felt anger
days since I tried to pick up my phone
weeks since I last contacted you
months since we last touched.
its been
months since you crushed me
weeks since I put on the brave face
days since I longed for you
hours since I spoke of you
minutes of starring into a blank screen
silently pleading
moments before all this is behind me again.
It’ll be
Moments of weakness
when I think about “us”
Minutes of silent cursing
while you run through my mind
Hours of rationalizing
before I let it go
Days of depression
I know
Weeks of emotions crammed into a few minutes
Months of self doubt and insanity
Soon it’ll be
years
But I’ll always have
the
tears.
Feb 25, 2010
Feb 25, 2010 at 10:25 PM UTC
I think sometimes, about what it means to be transgender. I probe and probe for answers, because as the possibility for a new age of enlightenment and safety increases, the others want to know. I’ve come up with many answers, but I can hold to none. I don’t deserve to paint the definition of a culture with the limited experiences I’ve had. I don’t see myself in the transgender identified people allowed on television. I don’t see myself in the transgender identified people making news feeds and giving high profile interviews. And as my nation’s exposure to our culture increases, likely will their curiosity. Am I transgender? Do I have the right? I’ve heard doctors, psychiatrists, may refuse transgender patients access to hormone therapy based on how dedicated or convincing their portrayal of their identified gender. If you want to be a man or woman, you’ll have to look like the women and men on TV. If you want to be transgender, you’ll have to look like the trans identified people on TV. Every single one of us who has an active role as either participant or observer in our society is prey to the crisis of validity. Am I pretty enough? Am I strong enough? Am I brave enough? Mom enough? Dad enough? Competitive enough? Successful enough? Rich enough? **** enough? Pious enough? It never ends. We’re, as a nation of people, being crushed and compartmentalized by this ever present lens, looming over us, exploiting our weaknesses and fears so it may grow wider, and support itself as it follows us, seemingly forever into the future. And one of the worst fears this camera of existential torment exploits, in most of us every day, is, “Do I have a reflection?” “What does it look like?” “Do I look like me?” What does it mean to be transgender? I can’t get away from that question. But I don’t have an answer. There are varying degrees of anguish, depression, panic, anxiety, and other wonderful emotional states that creep up on you and breathe down your neck nearly every waking day. Absolute contempt for the lie of a life you’ve lived till now, and contempt for the fragments still stuck to you, in memories, attached to your body and mind. Fear of those in your own community who would purposefully humiliate, invalidate, or attack you, choosing their own universal moral code over the innate urge and capacity to support the health and continued well being of another human. A ******* neighbor. A ******* pupil. A ******* employee. A ******* sister, brother, son, daughter, mother, father, cousin, ******* blood. What is being transgender like? By my experiences, it’s just like being anyone else in the country. But with a lot more fear, death, exclusion and medication.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 5:07 AM UTC
I like immigrants, immigration. Legal immigration,
Jane passionately corrects. Actually my goal is a borderless world.
Gathering the neighborhood like family.
The men discuss sterilizing welfare mothers. I say You're working
around the edges,
humanity has exceeded the carrying capacity of the planet,
even those with jobs. And spouses. And houses.
Yet it's an idyll of an early summer evening, new cut grass,
two baseball teams of children playing in it. Safe from Pakistan.
News photos of Muslim refugees, women in blue robes, biblically
carrying children away from holocaust. The fundamentalist army
not far behind, beheading sinners, sure in its righteousness
as the Holy Roman Empire.
Somehow Joel Osteen the evangelist comes up
while talking about how the Catholic Church is irrelevant in North
America,
even Latin America and Africa are going evangelical.
Izzi likes Osteen, awesome extemporaneous speaker, no teleprompter,
up from bootstraps message. My wife says he's probably Jewish.
Fortunately no one claims the Holocaust never happened or slavery
was voluntary.
What is the carrying capacity of the planet?
In China is it each couple or each adult that gets one offspring?
As life expectancy and standards rise,
family size diminishes. We draw together into greener, tighter cities.
The children of three monotheistic religions, atheists and agnostics
play in city streets, work farm fields, explore forests, deserts,
grasslands, space.
Two ancient female poets: Enheduanna and Sappho
are a revelation. The clarity of their complaints:
lost lover, lost city.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC
I thought I forgot you
I thought I long had you buried
Deep in my memory.
I thought you could no longer haunt me
Like you used to do so often.
I thought I got over you
Until your eyes met mine today,
Once or twice at most and that was about it.
I couldn't look at you,
I couldn't look at you without bursting into tears,
So I burst into laughter instead.
And I suppose that you saw through my fake act.
Anyway...
You were there in your corner,
There in your pedestal,
There in your elegance
Drawing something dangerously beautiful
And you were beautifully dangerous.
And I,
I could only watch you from a distance
And learn to admire you
Without touching you,
Without kissing you,
Or ******* you.
We exchanged a conversation
About random things
You know, like
How it took me about an hour
To take a proper picture of the cat you gave me,
How it tragically died,
How I didn't cry when it died...
But I actually did cry when it died...
You looked all right, seriously.
There in your peaceful world
That I no longer was part of.
There in your artistic mind,
There in your capacity to forget,
There in your tendency to break promises,
There in the awful effect you always have on me.
So you said goodbye
Because you had something to go back to.
I said goodbye
Even though I had nothing to go back to.
We parted ways once again,
Me with your drawing pencil in my bag
And you, you my dear, with a piece of me
Inside your pocket.
I remember you once said forever, but you only lied.
I went home,
I went home and cried.
-- Eleanor
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
The river winds in from distant lands
With mercyless power it turns stone to sand
Through its mysterious life, the very earth it commands
And Yet the fearful river still runs through our hands.
In torrents of furry where the deepest currents flow
The rivers wild waters surge with woe. For
Onward, forever, its destined to go
A permenant home it won't ever know.
The river runs from each of us
As a refugee of fear,
It knows in a blink it will be somewhere else
Its waves are really its tears.
It runs from the audacity
Of the selfish human mind
As Its massive life capacity,
Of flora and fauna combined,
Are threatened by our antics and helpless to our crime
So the river runs on their behalf, from everyone, in time-
even within its whitecap foam
Water's yearning for a home
So roam does the water- endlessly,
till its long gone out of sight
The essential droplets of the river-
Nomads day and night.
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 11:55 AM UTC
8 fifteen in the morning,
huddled around a wooden framed door,
awaiting today’s moderator,
another professional development,
Restorative Practices,
the art of inclusion,
the art of accountability;
Skill building,
Cooperation,
The mutual hate among us as we stare into a dark room,
windowless,
Awaiting another 7 hour day of ice breakers,
We clutch our coffees and populate the lone corner —
— 12 capacity room in the basement,
All 15 of us,
Good morning: let’s begin
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 9:44 AM UTC
I. Sexuality (textbook definition) - capacity for ****** feelings.
II. Sexuality (urban dictionary) - having been born liking either males or females. Sexuality encompasses being gay, bi, straight, lesbian, *********** or transgendered. Sexuality is the drive designed in humans to what they are attracted to. Most people mistake the word lifestyle for sexuality which is why there is ignorance in our country.
III. Sexuality (to homophobes) - a sin unless you like your opposite gender. No exploring your sexuality before marriage. If your sexuality is anything but straight you're going to hell.
What is sexuality when you develop a sexuality before you even know what *** is?
How is something a sin when it's developed before you reach kindergarten?
I knew I liked girls before I knew how read.
How did I choose to be gay when I have no recolation of ever making that decision?
So the question I come to ask myself is what, I rather how is sexuality?
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC
Stardust dusted across your cheeks
Light brown ones, hard to see
The sun peaks
The warmth of the sun in your embrace
Your gravity is keeping me down
Unfamiliar space
Are you the milky way?
Am I the lonely astronaut?
Led astray
You are making my head spin
I am no moon, this isn't love
I can still taste the gin
From Mercury to Neptune the colors are all there
And time goes by, measure it by light years
Just stare
Sort of a single slingshot gravity
Keeps me from shooting further away.
The beauty, over your capacity
If the whole galaxy was in front of you,
would you come near it? Could you?
** When you are only allowed to enjoy the view **
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 6:53 PM UTC
i. when I was young, I was never complimented. I never felt good enough and it hurt and somewhere along the line I began complimenting everyone because I was never complimented and I never wanted anyone to hate themselves the way I did. just because I call a girl pretty does not mean I want in her pants.
ii. we live in a country where a gay poet spoke at obama's second inauguration, where five openly gay senators serve, where all fifty states have had a gay elected officer in some capacity, so if I were to be gay, what's the problem with a relatively unknown sixteen year old girl from a relatively unknown town in a relatively unknown state being gay?
iii. do you want me to be gay? do you want a better, more socially acceptable reason to make fun of me? is my weight not enough?
iv. I was taught the term fluidity by my best friend Alyssa. she firmly believes that sexuality is a spectrum, like many other things. I have a different view on sexuality because I see it as a spectrum, not something that's set in stone.
v. I like making people happy, I like completing people, I apologize a bit too frequently and I was taught how to accept people.
vi. just because I call a girl pretty does not mean I like her. just because I say a dog is cute does not mean I want with the dog. just because I say a painting is pretty does not mean I am going to **** the painting.
vii. aesthetic is a very important word.
viii. there are three kinds of attraction, aesthetic, romantic, and ****** just because you have one does not mean you have all three. just because I like the way something looks doesn't mean I am going to have *** with it.
ix. sexuality is an Identity. not a YOUdentity.
x. I'm not gay, but if I were, trust me, I wouldn't go for such a whiny little *****
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
and there i am in the midst of it all, conscious of what appears to be existent, yet knowing it is illusory. and if time is occurring synchronously then how can i look back with contrition? for if i have the capacity to move backwards and forwards in quantum leaps, i can erase the past like pastel chalk on an antique blackboard, then start anew. is not the sky my canvas and the arc of the rainbow my palette? and the stars in lustrous luminosity light my way so that ev’n at dusk I can paint. yet pain ne’er ceases to hollow me out. then through a barren vessel i catch more rain, and pour it out upon the parched terrain. just when i thought enlightenment was nigh, a sharp edge is discovered. must it necessitate additional sandpapering from the wind? when will the gemstone sparkle without further pressure? does it lie in its power to simply shimmer sans duress? perhaps it was dazzling at its inception, relinquishing its luster upon domestication. with this proviso, as it nears twilight i shall tarry and blend with the night. i’ll dance with a moonbeam knowing the jewel will glisten afresh upon the rise of the golden sun.
@2016janetaylor
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 11:37 AM UTC
Today I am superwoman,
I go to three jobs, one meeting, two classes
I wear five hats throughout the day.
I got those lovely eyebags as my trophy.
By being superwoman I accomplish anything,
everything that they told me I couldn't do.
I wanted to be in student government...
the popularity vote told me no but I showed them
I could do that too. They said you can't have everything
and here I am sitting with it all.
In this day of superpowers
I fly from class to job to job to job to meeting to home
but I am the most human today.
I laugh in the face of my fears of failure because I have already gotten on the road to success.
I cry because even I am entitled to a good cry every once in a while.
I am cranky because it evens out the crazy bubblyness that I always am.
I radiate happiness although I am drowning in work
I support and lean on those around me causing a tangled connection of love
In every capacity I am me, happy, sad, lethargic, energized, hyper, lost, leading.
In every Wednesday, I remember that my humanity all in itself makes me just as super human as the next girl or guy.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 2:59 AM UTC
If you are uncomfortable when you look in the mirror,
keep in mind:
We spent thousands of years
trying to convince the earth
she was flat.
We wrote her maps as evidence of the things we saw;
and she believed them.
She cried tsunamis, and had earthquake breakdowns.
Keep in mind: the Sun never gave up hope.
The earth will keep spinning and breathing
the star-dusty space void of encouragement.
Next time you look in the mirror
and second-guess your potential divinity,
remember you will keep shining and living.
Because the Sun is out there
believing in you,
compensating for lack of the human capacity
to treat each other empathically.
You don’t need proof or approval
to be exactly what you are;
Eventually everyone will see
your infinite beauty.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 9:54 AM UTC
They said
Don’t wear leggings
Or a shirt that shows your cleavage
Because you need to be covered up
You’re a distraction
They said
Don’t use your period as an excuse
For male teachers to let you go to the bathroom
Because you’re not fooling anybody
They said
Don’t shave your head
Boys can
You can’t and don’t
And won’t because we’ll suspend you
They said
Watch the length of your skirt
The colour of your hair
The shoes and makeup
The piercings
And they call that fair
They said
Come to us if something is wrong
if you’re feeling bullied
if you feel unsafe
I guess they don’t remember asking my friend and I
if we heard of anyone in our year with suicidal tendencies
They asked us because
We were the sensible ones
The bright ones
We couldn't have been depressed.
I guess they didn’t see my panic
and my hand squeezing my wrist.
Because school
Is not a place
Where you can express who you are
School is not the place where you feel safe
It's a battle ground on the outside of your comfort zone.
School isn’t about education
Its a challenge, competition
Its a measurement of your capabilities
But what if you don't excel?
You’re called out for not being good enough
You're humiliated. Mocked.
You get looked down on
Judged
Embarrassed
And you don’t get your
Degree
As if a degree explains who you are
What you’ve been through
How much you’re worth
As if a degree
Measures the capacity
Of your heart
And your knowledge
And a teacher can share your grade
Make a joke and smirk
Cause they think you’re not worth it
And they can laugh and yell and call your parents
Who don’t think you’re any better.
Because year after year they’ve been led to believe
that you’re easily distracted
that you don’t do what you’re told
that you’re rebellious
Because even if you showed respect to the hypocrisy
That you can't help but notice,
They still won’t understand that you're just fighting
for what you believe is right, for mutual respect.
Because that’s not what you were thought.
You were thought to raise your hand when you want to speak.
And even if you made a valid point
You would still get lectured on putting your hand up when you want to speak.
Discipline put first.
And that is my definition of school
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 4:45 PM UTC
Freedom from hunger and freedom from pain
freedom from loss and so freedom from gain.
Freedom to give and freedom to share
freedom from want and that of despair.
Freedom to think and freedom to know
freedom to achieve and freedom to grow.
Freedom from ******* and freedom of liberation
freedom from ignorance and any unknown situation.
Freedom to come and freedom to leave
freedom to stay and freedom to conceive.
Freedom from struggle and freedom of ease
freedom to enjoy and the capacity to please.
Freedom from failure and freedom of success
freedom from denial and freedom of access.
Freedom from illusion and freedom of reality
freedom to become what we are in actuality.
Freedom to live and freedom to die
freedom to laugh and freedom to cry.
Freedom to speak and freedom to listen
freedom to act based on a wise decision.
Freedom from hate and freedom of love
freedom of below and freedom of above.
Freedom of the past and freedom of the present
freedom of the future and what it can represent.
Freedom from war and freedom of peace
freedom to begin and freedom to cease.
Freedom from sickness and freedom of health
freedom from poverty and mishandled wealth.
Freedom from wrong and freedom being right
freedom of the day and freedom of the night.
Freedom to choose and freedom to reject
freedom to imagine what there is to expect.
Freedom from lust and freedom from greed
freedom from anger and freedom from breed.
Freedom from jealousy and freedom from pride
freedom from within and freedom from outside.
Freedom of always not having anything to hide.
Freedom from space and also freedom from time
freedom from attachment and freedom from crime
Freedom to work and freedom to play
freedom to believe and freedom to pray.
Freedom to experience a rebirth someday.
Freedom from the body and freedom from the mind
freedom from the ego and freedom from being blind.
Freedom of transcendence being of the spiritual kind.
Universal freedom is eternal and infinite bliss
we should all therefore be able to realise this.
Nov 21, 2010
Nov 21, 2010 at 1:23 AM UTC
Out on the frozen Charles,
alone but for the creak
of the ice beneath,
and the singing of the winter wind,
and the glitt'ring of the city lights,
more num'rous than the stars at night,
life wells up inside of me.
I am a river that's in flood;
balloon at full capacity.
The universe runs through my blood.
At times like this
I know why.
I know why
I am alive.
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 9:27 PM UTC
<>
"And then one day you came back home
You were a creature all in rapture
You had the key to your soul
And you did open that day you came back to the garden
The olden summer breeze was blowin' on your face
The light of God was shinin' on your countenance divine
And you were a violet colour as you
Sat beside your father and your mother in the garden
The summer breeze was blowin' on your face
Within your violet you treasure your summery words
And as the shiver from my neck down to my spine
Ignited me in daylight and nature in the garden"
In the Garden,
song by by Van Morrison
<>
***This touches me deep in the chest cavity,
the palpitations of its internalizing echoing cavitations,
a warning, go slow, choose your words wise and
accrue, the mood,
for the ache of creating, hurts, fevers me
for I am but steps away from the garden,
and its violet hues infused with fresh sunrising golden hazes,
with kindly warmth, with warming kindnesses,
touches,
caresses my shoulders, begs me to stop crying,
overcome, for I am overcome, eyes dropping wetting droplets,
for find myself at the intersection,
interlocking crossroads
where perfect perfection
begins and must
meet its natural endings
thoughts of capture, retentions, preservations,
all impossibilities, challenges,
see me, begging itinerant
muses
in the neighborhood
to guide my hand, teach me newsome words,
mine feel so old, so unworthy of this moment,
hearing me solicit their
Treasure of Summery
Words
but they won't,
excusing themselves,
that this in particular human has exercised, exorcised,
all the tools in his ever diminishing capacity,
time insufficient to learn a new calculus of
addition
and bid me calm my heaving chest,
seize my tears, just add them to the brackish salted waters steps
awaiting away
live in this moment
live within this poem,
revisit it frequent,
weep no more,
your stilling heart weakened,
take fast what is given now,
and be contented,
your treasury chest is full,
overflowing with this summary of
summery***
but I am not, cannot…
7:48:am
jul 22
Jul 22, 2025
Jul 22, 2025 at 8:03 AM UTC
I want to tell him
that I’m scared,
that I’ve been here before.
And that the last time I felt potential like this it imploded;
I imploded.
But I don’t want to taint it,
You see I’m still hopeful
That maybe this time
Won’t end up laced with maybes,
Or what ifs,
Or open wounds pouring blood onto paper.
That maybe this time,
just won’t end.
I’ve not quite worked out whether I think it’s beautiful,
Or stupid -
The human capacity,
And pliancy,
And longing,
For love.
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 12:15 PM UTC
There is a harsh beauty in mathematics.
Under curves and over slopes,
Equations rise and fall endlessly
In a perfectly measured void.
Optimized, rationalized, sterilized;
Formulas that never lie,
Theorems looming before us
Like an archaic God,
A golden deity whose
Volume is maximized.
How I dream of drifting in this flux,
Concave up and concave down,
Riding the sign of my second derivative
For positive and negative,
For better and worse.
I would not travel alone;
With C by my side,
Friend, ally, brother,
Always paired with my antiderivative,
For whenever we journey back
Into the past, it is necessary
To have a companion to pull us out again
In case we are unsure of where we started.
Rules and laws
Strict organization, control;
There is a harsh beauty in mathematics.
Order; two plus two is always four.
Sines and cosines and theta
All dancing in the unit circle of life,
A conga line that joins itself
To form a mathematical ouroboros.
But the harshest of the harsh beauties
Presented in this Divine Subject
Is that though there is an infinite capacity
For positivity and growth,
So too is there the possibility of stretching
Endlessly towards negativity forever.
However, it is much more terrifying
To lie in the middle;
To be undefined, unknowable, and to add
Or subtract to no effect;
The most fear inducing, mysterious, and gorgeous number
Of zero; nothing yet something,
Infinite yet not,
The most grand of all contradictions.
A hole; a jump; a discontinuity,
Easily removed from life and smoothed out
If you just apply the formulas.
Graphs and coordinates, integers and ordered pairs,
Is that not what life is?
We live within the grandest equation,
Each our own variable,
Constantly solving for ourselves
With the harsh beauties of mathematics.
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 10:27 PM UTC
1.) You have the most loving heart. Your warmth, your gentle touch that you personify without words. Melts the supports of my heart
2.) Eyes of deep blue, that ensnare me and leave me thoughtless. How they change into everglade greens, and mystical greys. They're beautiful
3.) Few laughs may be as pure as your quiet giggle. The mere sound gives me goosebumps and a funny feeling in my stomach. You're so freakin' adorable
4.)The curves of a semi-circle aren't nearly as perfect as yours. You've worked alot for the perfect body. I simply need to ask... How can you make something that's something that is already perfect better?
5.) Spontaneous, unexpected and surprising. You keep me on my feet, keep me entertained and make me enjoy every second with you. Who knows what I am to expect?!
6.) Once upon a time, there lived to fluffy bunnies, they decided to leave their little hole and go out on an adventure. A wolf came along and bit of the rabbits head and it bled to death Its so dark, and it leaves you wondering what to think. I love your dark side. It both terrifies and intrigues me
7.) You're so intellectual. I love some of the things you say and more importantly write! You have an amazing capacity for knowledge and wisdom and you use it well. It baffles me, some of the connections you make in your essays and assignments
8.) My love you illustrate a maturity that surpasses your years. Pertaining to your ability to be responsible and reliable if and when - not that I ever am - clearly am not able to be. I think you're the one looking after me. I'm the older one, who just happens to have an 8yr old inside them~
9.) You smell amazing, but no. Seriously, you are in every way, shape or form. The most amazing, star studded, picture perfect, superbly sensational girl. I could ever have met. Yes, let the alliteration flow
10.) Because you're you, and you are mine
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 2:16 AM UTC
If I ever get the chance to love you forever I promise you I will do it to my greatest capacity. I promise to listen to you when you get so invested in conversation you ramble for hours. I promise to accept you when you're being stubborn, and fight you when you're wrong. I promise to learn how to make your favourite meals from your mother, I know her cooking will always be your favourite. I promise to find every freckle on your body. I will kiss every single one. I promise to always say see you later rather than goodbye. I promise to protect you from heartache to the best of my ability. Actually, I promise to help you through heartache when it comes our way. You'll never be alone. I promise to kiss you when you first wake up even though we both know you get smelly. I promise to be your biggest fan and greatest supporter. I promise to scratch your back and pop your back pimples. I promise to watch your favourite television show even if I could honestly care less. I really don't care about zombies. I promise to never let us become your parents. I promise to never let you be like your father. I promise to never let you be like my father. I promise to be the best mother if you let me. I promise to tuck you in when you're drunk and give you water and Advil when you're hungover. I promise to be your home. I promise to make our house as ***** as possible. I promise to race you up the stairs. I promise to keep myself positive. I promise to let you pick me up when it feels like I can't do it myself. I promise to laugh at your baby photos with your sister and to talk to your father about his hobbies. I promise to make fun of you for being a mama's boy. I promise to love you for it, too. I promise to love you with every bone and muscle in my body. I promise to love you more than I did the day before. I promise to love you and love you and love you and lo
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 2:29 AM UTC
kindness eats
least of all we defeat our enemies cheaply
steep the leaves in hot water gently
keep enemies close to you and weapons even closer
our friends are like sunbeams
I jump in the water
your sun-burned back is peeling
out loud you remind me
not to bend down too quickly
she hounds me with her questions
lessons on arithmetic
I’m so sick of it
histrionics and sonic lectures
his tricks are onto it
moronic manic accidents
red lions with long necks
deflect authority and wager on credit
the outcomes are certain
all will fade away indefinitely
understand this and measure your life
by breaths and not complexity
densities are hiding in visionary lightning
finding new faculties every moment
we are swift in our limitless
capacity for adaptation
a refulgent emulsion
immersed in water and poetry
under the highest authority
or just higher scrutiny
wrapped in a paranoid blanket
of heightened security
all is being watched right now
as judges redefine your beauty
if you are truly interested
in finding happiness
you must understand
that all magic is abraxas
and satisfaction unceasingly attacks this
as we collapse upon the backs
of ecstatic languages....
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC
Is only as big,
as your brains capacity,
and your empathy
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 4:26 PM UTC
1099
My Cocoon tightens—Colors tease—
I’m feeling for the Air—
A dim capacity for Wings
Demeans the Dress I wear—
A power of Butterfly must be—
The Aptitude to fly
Meadows of Majesty implies
And easy Sweeps of Sky—
So I must baffle at the Hint
And cipher at the Sign
And make much blunder, if at least
I take the clue divine—
8.7k