"celibacy" poems
My sexuality is that 1990's ice cream flavor
Lost to time, but something I no longer seek to savor
My *** is that 1777 font
Pretty to look at, but nothing I want
My sexuality is found in the not-places, of memory
My sexuality is not *** and is not celibacy
My sexuality is defined by my individuality
My sexuality is not a catalyst for my morality
My sexuality is my not-sex
My sexuality is not-ever as opposed to not-yet
My sexuality means
My sexuality is mine
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 12:46 PM UTC
Up early as usually but this time with a mission to complete Halloween Costumes.
Not a pain free day most definitely, but have kids who rely on me to be a good mom.
Everyone has haters; the two faced, "your girls" wanting your guy or envy clothes style,
or randoms you never met, desiring your life, home or new car bought with hard work.
Most days what's posted on sites about me makes not a bit of difference in my world,
I ignore and move on with my life, know haters have nothing better to do than gossip.
No news is good news and nothing from my usual "Town Criers" saying "Guess What?"
One day got messages in text, "You have been labeled Babylon's ***** by Craiglisters!"
Not a "lol" nor "Roflmao" situation. Thinking, What in the world? and How in the world?
Me, Ms. Abstaining and they, who love assuming and posting drama without thought.
Their world; small town America and believers of truth in "all" internet rumors and media,
not willing to give benefit of doubt, once minds, so limited in thought, have been made up.
E-mail inquiries from potential employers I never met from destinations far far away,
asking and informing that person with such low morals shall never be part of their world.
Drama finds me and neither welcome nor do I seek it out, way too emotionally draining,
believer in live and let live, authored "Celibacy" poem to stop jokes made to my kids.
Who knew that trying for your dreams could bring forth bringers or illogical pure hatred?
Who knew that emotions of my children whom I love, would be affected by narrow minds?
After family conference and with full support, by the way, had to explain ***** to son,
this mom carries on and still on second journey pursuing dreams and making realities.
If I give up dreams it will never be because someone posted bold faced lies on open forum,
it will be because I choose to do it with good reasons and those reasons are mine alone.
Pitfalls? Have been numerous. Will? Strong and still determined to see this through to end.
Tomorrow isn't promised and hear my dad say, "Daughter, go forth and let haters be fuel!"
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 4:01 AM UTC
I became celibate
quite a few years ago
only in part
because of religious reasons
but probably mostly because
the *** was so bad
so after I became celibate
and after much meditation
I experienced a new kind of ***
for me,
these internal *******
from kundalini flow
and to me,
it is better than regular ***
and I have it
much more frequently
like entire days of ******
so that sometimes
I think that I am not celibate
but actually
have become
a bit too promiscuous.
Sep 20, 2011
Sep 20, 2011 at 5:57 AM UTC
You look at me.
I look at you.
The heat rises.
Arousal is overpowering.
The nausea begins.
You ask, ‘Shall we?’
And, I blush, wondering if eternity will come together at least this time;
Going against my celibacy of a year,
Bowing to the blushing nausea of the routine arousal of a forgotten yesterday,
Awkwardly I crawl on the bed, sliding closer to you.
I sit on your lap.
I feel your hard on in between my thighs.
I rhythmically move with closed eyes.
Blushing, I open my eyes to look at your long black curls.
I cup your long brown beard in my moist palms
My eyes meet yours and they stutter, scatter and flutter.
Blushing, with halp open eyes and wide open *****
I ****** my jumpsuit harder on your hard-on.
Your hands wary over my ***** and I clench my fist slowly over your manhood.
Suddenly, I become faster than you.
I kiss you madly, rub your beard over my tender cheeks and almost bruised lips.
You pause.
I don’t see you no more.
I heat up.
I remember kissing your manhood, loving it, eating it and nibbling it for what seemed to be forever,
Until I choked.
Paused.
The clothes are gone.
And you pulled me by my hair.
Bent my waist before I could grasp a glance of your rugged beard,
Of your sour kiss,
And, then it was just thrusts. And thrusts. And Thrusts.
And a million more thrusts.
After an eternity of an endless void,
It pulsated inside.
I felt a mild tingle.
Nothing much.
Nothing heavy.
Nothing shivering, to me.
To you as well.
It seemed strange.
And then you were out.
And then you were gone.
I dripped.
I dried.
I spilled.
And, I oathed that I will be celibate for the rest of my life,
Again.
Because you grow upper, and upper,
You forgot to make love.
You forgot to kiss me.
You forgot to look into my eyes.
You forgot to caress my hips.
You forgot to clench your nails into my neck
Because the ground does not move anymore.
To let me see the passion in your eyes when you're inside me,
Because there is no more passion left of this copulation.
This coitus is a blank frustration and none more.
It is just a routine now.
It will just be a routine again.
I swallow the pink-butterfly pill.
And I know, that this nausea
This arousal
Will enslave me the next time as well.
And next time too,
It will never be the same as I moan in my solitary void,
Feeling the tingle in my crotch,
Awaiting a warmth,
Tingles, and all the other fantasies.
I will just stand, stare, hope and die without the holy tingle,
And you will too.
We are just jaded, and Jade till it all dims to an oblivion of a momentary jade.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 1:09 PM UTC
**** serenely amid the surround-sound system and break the sound barrier and remember what *** appeal there may be in celibacy. As far as possible without surrender be located on voluptuous bafflegabs amongst squillions creatures. Jabber your clean breast ravishingly and revealingly; and bug to odds, even the dead from the neck up and half—baked; they too **** their mythical being. Lynch yobbish and Eurosceptic creatures, they are hot potatoes to the spunk. If you calibrate yourself with the aid of genetically modifieds you may become naff and disgusting; for always there will be juicier and grosser girls than yourself. Fuck your bear and ragged staffs as well as your carcasses. Acropolis caressed inside your cough up jackboot, however uncouth; *** appeal is a **** abracadabra at the sign of the channel—hopping weathercocks of porridge. Cock sadomasochist in your pigeon filths; for the big bang theory is chock—full of Piltdown man. Nevertheless let this not ********* you to what pith there is; thick celebrities have a crack at for foul—smelling specimens; and in all quarters ***** is oozing of exhaustion. Touch yourself. To cap it all **** not ape where the shoe pinches. Neither be cheeky about ****** ergo chez the ******* type of oodles menopause and double whammy schoolgirl complexion is as shrinkproof as the Antichrist. Treat like **** out of charity the tax collector of the yonks, buxomly jettisoning the seed of the vigorousness. Give **** enormousness of ***** to fluoridate you inside eye—opening extremity. But do not abuse yourself using crooked paintings. Noisy funks are impregnated of knock up and stiffness. Over the hills and far away a **** straitjacket, touch affectionate *** yourself. You are a brat of the swarms, no less than the crab apples and the diamond geezers; you have a right to breathe from end to end. And whether or no or not *** appeal is plain as a pikestaff to you, nay no grit the not peanuts is spreadeagling as the body beautiful should. Ergo be at titbit with Fetish whatever you inseminate him to be posted, and whatever your alpha—fetoprotein tests and farts inside the full—throated nymphomaniacs of ***** wigwam come—hither look using your ****** intercourse. With all *** appeal’s tattie bogle, slavery and mutilated musclemen, the body beautiful is still a tall, dark and handsome big bang theory. Stand pert. Die in the attempt to be boozed up.
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 3:32 PM UTC
Often I wonder which is harder
'Singleness or Marriage'
How do we do it?
The struggles of being with someone and remain purified sexually
The focus we must attain in this manner
The mindset of suppressing lust and passion
Remaining without touch till the set time
Our partners how they seemingly accept the challenge but later deviate;
With talks like ‘am only human’.
How we look innocent but crave deep down for a tiny piece
The chain of celibacy a slavery we were made to follow
Or else anguish and chastising
Am broken and torn
The lessons I learnt I hold dearly
Corinthians stated worries
Oh my fate!
When whilst thou end, this status I cross around my neck
Wait! but don’t look waiting
The side talks and jest, the respect long lost
Yours will be the latest I know
Happen already!
Wait on God permanent anthems now
Smile and wave don’t show it
Or you are jealous.
Be happy and suppress
Be hopeful and pray
For how long!
Be patient, kind,
God’s time is the best
Oh when!
It’s been 3 decades and counting
No judging authority
I only want to be loved
Now I live for myself alone no deviation from love and service
I will do not just right but the right way
With God before me.
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 6:47 AM UTC
Let me straddle your mind until I'm confined
to the empty spaces you refuse to acknowledge ,
taking hostage the inhabitants of this grand mental escape ,
I equate this mission to landing on the moon - you consume
every fiber of my being I intrude ,
wishing to know what you are thinking
it sort of ****** me off when you choose *** over celibacy
just assume it's my jealousy I'd rather have your mind than head
as we lay here in bed I listen to the breath that escapes the dark carven of your lips ,
you kiss me so softly with vocabulary I hear clearly how deep you crave me,
such a sweet sentiment from a sapio ******
someone who can fornicate my mental with intellectual ,
you eat out my riddles and digest philophosy
have me shaking feeling close to God see ,
we get bare naked to the truth
Exposing absolute equations and reasons why , I sigh .
Gagging on your brilliance
you present such increments of human creativity ,
swallowing your mysteries
stroke me close and slow
fill me to capacity with the knowledge of you
tell me the truth you love to **** me
with your words You encourage this insanity
This perplexing wet whirl of words gushes ,
and i demand to see the length of your lyrical havoc
I wish to kiss and grab the sensual sentences you string together
& nothing could compare to the pleasure when we intertwine our minds .
It's ridiculous how meticulous you are with my mental
we lay there , gasping sinful in sections of ecstasy
i watch you vividly , react to my melodic passion
i hold on - grasping my fingertips around your brain
you dig deeper and in pain i give you my vunerability
I .LET . YOU . FEEL . ME
speaking languages I forgot i knew
yet I know I cant dispute
our connection from confessing the truth
you sparked theories bigger than any bang
articulating art using slang
we decode out way of conduct
it was just pure luck we ****** through conversation
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 3:23 AM UTC
I'm long overdue thanking
The heroes of my youth.
Thank you Superboy
For teaching me how
To read plot and character
And dialogue.
Your comics
Brought phonics
Alive.
Thank you Bouncing Boy
For being somewhat chubby,
And teaching me
Patience and understanding
Of those not quite the
Shape of me.
Thank you Mon El and Ultra Boy
For helping me focus
On one strength at a time;
I've held my
Weaknesses back from
Overpowering me.
Thank you Lightning Lad
For teaching me that
Accidents happen;
I can move on,
Learn and be stronger.
Thank you Karate Kid
For teaching me that
An average boy,
Through practice and determination
Can achieve what
I dreamt.
Thank you Cosmic Boy
For teaching me to channel
My energy, work with forces
Greater than myself,
And maintain control.
Thank you Chameleon Boy
For the lesson on
Adaptability and attitude
Adjustment.
Thank you Colossal Boy
For making it resoundingly clear
That stature and success are fleeting.
One always returns to
The one before.
Thank you Invisible Kid
For teaching me that I
Will not always go unnoticed
In an opaque world.
Thank you Brainiac 5
For teaching me the importance
Of education and life-long learning.
Thank you Sun Boy
For teaching me to
Shine and look my best,
But never forget
What's inside is brighter still.
Thank you Elastic Lad, Jimmy Olsen,
Who taught me that a loner, a cub,
A red-headed, freckled-faced boy
Could stretch himself,
Can walk with Heroes.
Thank you Shrinking Violet,
Saturn Girl, Phantom Girl,
Lightning Lass, and Supergirl
For all the shapliness
And upskirts
A young lad needs;
You saved ***** Lad
From a life of celibacy
In a Jesuit Seminary.
A Big Thanks!
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
It is
Whatever you want it to be.
How you perceive is your perception,
Your perspective is not deception
-But why are we so reluctant to make use of affection?
The detection of attraction exhibits bits of satisfaction
That neither of us can speak of.
If push comes to shove,
Don't make me make you fall in love.
If I can't have your body
I don't want no body.
Celibacy.
It will be a delicacy to insituate the thoughts that insituate your time
I'll obituate your loss
And re-birth worth in your mind-
The situation
Is a mind **** manipulation.
I will eliminate the
No
And inseminate the
Yes
Undressed across your expression
The progression
Of **********
The contents of your mind until you bare a confessional corruption
For when mutuality is in play;
Manipulation is just seduction.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 2:50 PM UTC
Conjunction:
a small class of words distinguished in many languages by their function as connectors between words, phrases, clauses, sentences
- the act of conjoining; combination; the state of being conjoined; union; association:
- a compound proposition that is true if and only if all of its component propositions are true.
- the coincidence of two or more heavenly bodies at the same celestial longitude.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am in a relationship.
a colorless word
a word of no clarity
a good one? a bad one?
a professional deal,
or one that makes you squeal
with pleasure or despair
without context or content,
a description of a status,
not a state,
but a quid pro quo
I prefer
I am in a conjunction
*well recall the day
our orbits
more than crossed,
but synchronized,
when two bodies
began to travel
upon the same longitude
one direction
in conjunction
t'was the day we coordinated
on our mobile phone,
co-configured our future,
our calendars*
*nowadays,
I answer her questions
while she is commencing to think,
when her foolishness prevails,
she questions, "did you remember to..."
my answer, a question returned,
connected, constant and conjunctive,*
"and what's my name?"
an answer conveying constancy
*relationship
oft the farthest place from logical,
but you know that,
say I am in a conjunction
and the logicians will celebrate
the end of your lonely celibacy,
well they understand the truth
inherent in and of and about
your compounded proposition*
*what unimaginative creatures we be,
dispensing with beauty for factuality,
but facts are easily misread,
your fact and my fact, relationship,
the exact same fact, conveys neither
an agreement as to what that means
are we unionized, associated, or conjoined
what is the quality of
our related ships?*
so
Dear Mr. Zuckerberg,
amend my status please,
post me
as being in a state of:
a) conductivity b) connectivity c) concoctive
no, none of those
capture
what we have
captured,
so let create a new state,
a new world,
using a very old world word
post us as follows,
"Nat is in a conjunction"
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 6:32 AM UTC
Proud to be celibate and writing "not" from a place called "be ashamed".
Touchy subject and taboo to most, this discussion of abstinence.
For me it's about keeping most intimate physical part of my being,
untouched by man until heart joins in marriage to the one I love.
Not judging lifestyle choices or anyone who makes personal decisions
based upon their own beliefs and what they feel is right for them.
Times I've been in love? Proud to say, I can count on only "one" hand.
My body "is" my temple and all parts to be shared only with my true love.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 8:18 PM UTC
Hi how you doing
I’m doing fine, how about you
I’m okay, well I’m not really
Go on tell me about it, that’s what us ex’s are for.
It’s Joe.
Joe, that’ll be my replacement.
He doesn’t seem to want to do it.
When you say do it, do we mean ***
Yes, strange isn’t it.
I don’t know, I don’t know Joe.
He’s a man, what is there to know.
Why is he not chasing you around the house.
I don’t know, what happened to us.
You dumped me.
I know, but why.
Let me see now, oh yeah, you said you wanted a ring, marriage, children, house, and a pony. I said I didn’t like pony’s. You said that’s the last straw. I said, exactly, do you know how much straw costs. You said, shut up about the straw. I said, where would we put a pony. You said, shut the **** up about the pony, shut the **** up about the straw. Do you want to marry me or not. I sort of got lost for words, and by the time I got round to saying I would love to marry you, you were away with Joe.
You’re so full of crap, you ran a mile, actually you and that pony have a lot in common, you’re both mule headed.
You’re still with Joe, did he give you a pony.
No, he gave me something else.
Frustration
It’s not all about *** you know, he’s saving himself.
That’ll be the biggest coming this year then.
I don’t know why I phoned you, you do my head in.
You need to borrow me till Joe’s ready.
No I don’t, celibacy is the in thing now.
Well in that case, I just want to congratulate on your resolve.
Are you seeing anyone.
No, I’m going through a monking phase at the moment, new habit.
So we could meet as friends then.
I don’t see why not, a friend in need is a friend in need.
I think that’s a friend indeed.
Indeed it is friend.
Should I bring a bottle round.
That would be a friendly thing to do.
You won’t mention Pony’s will you.
I won’t mention Pony’s.
Okay, I’ll bring Joe with me.
What.
I need to send him back, the post office is on the way.
Ha ha, nice one.
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 4:43 AM UTC
It began with National
Geographic
and those pictures
of nearly naked
African women
as I lay on the floor
of the hall
and from there
it became
being ****** by a dog
in the bathroom
to twenty second ***
with a girl
who said I was impotent
to becoming
aware that my *****
was too small
to a statutory case
where I didn't
get caught
to a time in bed
with a girl
who said
"How much longer
is this going to go"
to a grandmother
who put me to work
and the **********
was just like that
some of the time
to a one-night stand
with an overweight girl
which was the best time
to me thinking
"I haven't done too well
with the ladies,
maybe I should try
the men"
and then doing so
and deciding I didn't
like it
to a few unforgettable
moments which were
forgettable
to an illicit affair
with a married woman
in motel rooms
to a woman who picked me up
and said, "Let's be friends"
and as she was going
up the stairs
she said, "OK, let's get
this over with"
and I ran outside
to get out of there
then to twenty-one years
of celibacy
when I realized
that my best ***
was with myself
and so I married him.
THE END
Mar 5, 2011
Mar 5, 2011 at 5:51 AM UTC
Celibacy
My friends think I'm crazy
Purity
A task hard to achieve
***
It's so blinding
Lust
Always struggling
STDs
I've escaped
Babies
Not on the way
Happy
That I can see
Carefree
Judge me
Fun
Found differently
Waiting
Until I'm married
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 1:55 AM UTC
Like old
mean beetles,
like old
men in battle,
like egos: solid anvils,
like families: lethal weapons,
like these: them,
begotten sons
who begat daughters
of a land, of a bordered plot
on the globe, the dirt,
the house, the property
which begot
them
both,
these two
bitter enemies
from two
separate places,
furiously blaze,
as the time
for darkness,
is far
from arrived.
And the sun
quakes,
in its heat
rippling sights
and
knocking particles,
which deter the next
knocked,
and which enforce
the continued sensation of
warmth
continued,
of aversion
continued,
rising,
screened,
for its impeccable quality,
against
nobody in
general or
specific
to announce, or to gain
against
consequences, which are
soothsaid
in time,
nullified.
Partners afflicted will be less opportunistic
and more egalitarian,
but are sworn,
like the sun,
against the monotony,
of repetition,
of indistinct days;
like these:
them,
the enemies,
they
are
engaged,
aged,
unteachable
and
spoiled.
They are always
immersed
in
vexed
states,
always in competition.
Hope
is
the
souls
united
never again
as much
as the static,
single dimension,
alone,
impeccable,
impossible,
for its possibility
is drawn by He
who
spews forth
lumens
next to card sharks and Amazons, knowing these
will have to suffice, having no escape
from the projected
source
of energy.
The metal heads
of garden rakes,
weapons
thrown
at devils
in the sweltering heat
of hell,
the Inferno
that holds a
first-person
point of view,
a dream, alongside
superheroes, allied,
but who are,
nevertheless,
without their unique
and exceptional powers,
pros and willing deviants
from the celibacy,
the weight,
the unoriginal paint
that collides
in
each
stroke,
making what
appears
null,
and the array
but one,
and supposed,
so that then
are the weary
and soulful mergers
which corrupt
and meander throughout,
polluting,
as
it
were,
the tranquility,
the wrenched service,
of the destined
machine,
of a million
trajectories,
homespun threads,
woven
into
a
million
miserable
microfibers,
unanswered
queries
that were
held back
in
fear,
and
were
never
asked,
and remain
even
now
sorry.
Jan 17, 2010
Jan 17, 2010 at 7:49 AM UTC
The priest puts his trust
In martyrs and miracles
Clutching his rosary and his celibacy
To his bursting breast
And humanity walks
Through a series of cages
Every day
The ***** puts her trust
In bordellos and bodies
Clutching her money and her condoms
To her brassy breast
And humanity walks
Through a series of cages
Every day
The lawyer puts his trust
In regulations and rules
Clutching his charters and his decrees
To his dusty breast
And humanity walks
Through a series of cages
Every day
We each put our trust
In roles and rituals
Clutching convention and convenience
To our timid *******
So humanity continues to walk
Through a series of self-made cages
Every day
By Phil Roberts
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 4:25 AM UTC
i didn't say a word.
the laughter was wrapping
tight about my neck.
two ex-girls were blushing,
my glance ricocheted off,
then landed on
my clasped hands.
i wasn't in charge of the party.
i only lived where it took place.
nobody had any alcohol,
everybody drank coffee or redbull;
talked with foreign
class.
i wasn't in charge of the music.
i only owned the stereo system.
so we listened to some pop-punkshit.
i started storing excuses,
in case someone asked me to dance.
the boys were all grinning.
the boys were all christians,
while they hunted their prey.
the girls were all grinning.
the girls were all christians,
while they still ran free.
i played priest.
kept my *** on the couch,
swore celibacy with every fired neuron.
lauren was gone,
and
amie threw a party.
she invited an army of
******** dressed exs
just to remind me i
hadn't outran my guilt.
the laughter started to wane,
people looked to me to stir
the conversation.
i didn't say a word.
i didn't breathe.
the weight of the room
was too heavy for me.
i cut myself from the stares,
someone asked where i was going,
my feet kept moving until
carpet
was traded for
concrete
was traded for
gas pedal
was traded for
anywhere distant.
Jun 7, 2010
Jun 7, 2010 at 11:46 AM UTC
Dear Shyla
I keep the suicide note that you've forgotten you wrote our mother folded up in a small wooden box in the corner of my bedroom
It's there so that on my worst days
When I've run out of friends who will listen
I can remind myself that other people feel this too
And after all we've been through apart sometimes our depressions and our mistakes are the only way I can remember we're related
Dear mom
I've hidden a diary you kept while struggling through your ill-fated relationship with my father
In it there are weight loss goals
Vows of marital celibacy
Existential questions
But mostly just a whole lot of why's leading you to answers you wanted to hear
While all of the things you needed to say you left in the blank spaces between the lines on the pages you never made it to
Your favorite thing to say after the divorce was that you were grateful to no longer have to walk on eggshells to protect his feelings
It has been twelve years and you still can't admit the feelings you were trying to protect were your own
And your feet still hurt
Dad
I have an envelope of pictures of you and I
From when both of us were oh so much younger
In each of them you are smiling at me
And in every one of them I am smiling back at you
I don't remember most of them I was quite very young
And for quite very different reasons I can imagine you would have a hard time remembering them as well
When I flip through the envelope I'm left sitting criss cross applesauce on a tore up linoleum floor
Staring at the scales of justice
Weighing the honest love of a drunk
Against the stoic rejection of the sober man you've become
And I am ashamed with how often I choose love
I am the keeper of this family's pain
Somebody has to
Someone has to admit it's real
One of us has to stare at the elephants in the room and see them
To know how each of us actually feels
Dear family
We are nothing more than four misfitted human beings
Tied together with tin can and twine telephones
By an astronomer, who in an effort to console himself,
Confused a congregation of lonely stars for a constellation
And eventually that is going to have to be enough
For each of us to love ourselves
To carry our own pain
I can not keep carrying all of this for each of you
I have my own pain
Which on most days is more than enough
I assure you
On most days
It is more than one man should
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 1:25 PM UTC
Give me a man
who will wrap his fingers
around my waist,
treating his life like
a flexible toothpick
to prevent my caving in
towards the stained harmony
of celibacy
and I'll provide the cure for cancer.
Provide me with a man
who will take these
drapes of solitude
hanging upon each shoulder
(all corners weighed down
by the lead of self-ambivalence)
and toss them as if they were
patches of cloudy fabric
waiting to be shooed away
like a mosquito with thoughts
and I will hide you all from
the surgical hands of Fate.
I've already wasted to null
the charm of an Annie Hall.
***** the carnal camaraderie
of the girl next dorm,
and now the last resort is
quid pro quo, world.
Quid pro quo.
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:51 AM UTC
When I laugh like a 65-year-old smoker,
when I fill in the lines of her face with my fingertips,
when my thoughts crash,
when I don't return my mother's calls,
when I apologize for stepping on your new shoes,
when I read Wolfe instead of socialize with the priests,
when I stare into open caskets,
when I microwave popcorn for all my friends,
when I throw nickels at Vietnam veterans' feet,
when I drink almond milk,
when I swear celibacy,
when I break oaths,
when I decide to write an epic poem that rips off "Howl",
when I browbeat idiot roommates,
when I buy books I never read,
when I hit on summer girls through text messaging,
when I wake up beside myself,
when I sleep on the tile by the toilet,
when I **** off the neighbors
when I hear someone say New Journalism died,
when I say they lied,
when I break my fourth finger against a wall,
when I listen to The Silver Jews during a heinous fog,
when I get to the table on time,
when I talk to Shorty about Waits,
to Zach about Springsteen and Ryan Adams,
when I'm surprised my friends actually listen to me,
when I straddle roadkill,
when I rock the proverbial boat,
when I lie with good intentions,
when I hook,
when I line,
when I sinker,
when I shift,
when I falter,
when I fix,
when I fake,
when I take the bait---
it's involuntary.
Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 11:24 AM UTC
Hide and seek,
I take a peek,
you come so near
then disappear.
I see your smile
but in just a while
I'll hide away
for another day.
the game I play
is truth and dare,
I've worn it out
like an old worn rag.
I don't know you,
you don't know me,
I wont tell
but I actually care.
It's a shallow life
and a shallow dream,
alluded hope,
illusion love,
you're not actually there-
My million pretty faces on an empty fake pedestal.
You weave through my life
like a dream
turned nightmare
turned dream
turned nightmare.
Time is so ****** short to waste it on ********
Cant you see I'm trying to find you?
How high must I build my castle?
How is it that you're so illusive and far away-
but your scent fills the room
and chokes me with sweetness?
I hate this incessant soppiness!
Argh!
My crazy obsession I try to lie and hide so well-
But it's written on my face in flashing neon colours,
desperation is so ******* unattractive!
Where in heavens name can I find myself a cheap plastic heart?
That doesn't breathe
or feel the need to heal?
If you want money I'll buy you.
If you want freedom I'll lie to you.
If you want a bicycle-
well I'm not really into cycling but I'll see what i can do.
I see so much fear in your eyes-
relationships shipwrecked-
and now you've made your mind up about the facts of life.
You've become the rock of Gibraltar-
tough as nails.
You're scary-
ready to weather any storms-
lonely-
but I still know you're soft inside...
You're just choosing the lesser of two evils-
well for now at least.
I know you still cry for your dreams,
stories that make you long,
but then you remember.
Hey! I get just as **** scared.
I mean, who burns themselves time and time and time again
without changing their formulas on life?
I do.
Dec 10, 2009
Dec 10, 2009 at 6:38 AM UTC
Woman took a vow of celibacy
Poverty and Obedience oh my
Haven't arrived at fifty
At such state of no chat
Would love to meet
A nun turned inward-
To be connected-
In the power of silence.
Perhaps in the future
A wish from my bucket-
Bucket of lists-
To fulfill for the next
Fifty peaceful years
Contemplative in my days
Wishing there could be no tax-
For being thus-
Alone and disconnected
But staying connected
Without stirring up ripples
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 5:21 PM UTC
I dreamt once of a monk;
Who put paddle to water and wandered over oceans.
My dream;
My dream dreamt of women,
Draped in towels
Dripping their sweet sweat on his brow.
My dream;
My dream leaves me empty,
I dream of celibacy.
My dream?
I dreamt of ancient monasteries
Filled with mausoleums
And gravestones to great men,
A shattered core;
Where monk fearfully
Utter panic sing,
Convincing,
Pleading,
Hoping,
There is a pure thing.
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 12:23 PM UTC
Gaia slammed the door and threw her phone across the room.
Her lover Humanity has done it again--
and again, and again.
That broken mess of a love with so much baggage,
it makes the raunchiest Olympians look like Astrea.
All night out, and Humanity ruins and disappoints,
once more.
Gaia screams into a pillow of earth in frustration.
Uranus thinks she's melodramatic,
But how can the Sky sympathize with the Earth?
And how in turn can the Earth fall so wholeheartedly,
for a destroyer?
Who once more in turn, tries in vain, but will never
understand the complexity of it's own round habitat-lover.
So Gaia is left confused and hurt, though Humanity swears,
it never meant to hurt her; break her into pieces,
and turn from a collective of voices to Narcissus himself.
She sighs.
Perhaps next week will be different?
The texts between the two so hit or miss and fickle,
Only Fates could read what lies behind the tension.
An Aletia moth flits in and out the window,
and suddenly the butterfly poster on Gaia's wall feels pathetic.
An imitation of her own work.
Perhaps next week will be different?
Perhaps Zeus will vow celibacy,
perhaps the sky will fall into the sea,
and we'll all be mercifully crushed in between.
But what crushes is reality, and as Gaia falls asleep,
the phone lights up.
Humanity: "Drinks again next Thursday?"
The same empty connection repeated ceaselessly.
One generation on to the next until the last.
And of course Pandora's curse,
keeps Gaia suffering through them all.
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 12:03 AM UTC
I buy lottery tickets,
But don't pray.
I curse the drivel on TV,
But own two.
I purchase alcohol,
But don't drink.
I roll stop,
But I flash the bird
(at you).
I don't like Rap,
But do Drake.
I abhor celibacy,
But I dress in white.
I love you,
But I'm not in love.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 11:55 AM UTC