"celing" poems
twinkle birds and tessellates, bends my mind to outer space. lands me in infinity of never ending affinity to the universe.
but sweetest ideas were shortly lived at reality slowly sifts away to repeated visions that turn loved faces into panic that glitches me into unbreakable circles of walk away, walk away.
no awareness of a before from this feel the abyss of this helplessness **** me into no ending so I seice to begin.
but as the panic subsides my mind starts to ride the energy that resides in my being from the kingfisher floor to the fish strewn ceiling.
sentient beings **** at the seams, my dream of weightlessness pull the windows to break towards the secrets of simple existence.
invisible water sends the strands of fur swelling and glowing into talk of the polar bear whose hair weaves into the atoms that feed my jumbled dreams.
hands rip through the plaster as the sounds grow louder and faster, helicopters shake the boiler from the pipes but I still feel great.
the tables tremble as I soak up the bass and the treble. sensual overload through my eyes the magic multiplies, angels can hear my sighs as the roof opens to tunnel towards the skies.
geometric patterns that I could never have imagines circle and sweep, creeping my further from sleep.
I have breached something new, an extreme that dares its self to be seen only my the few who ****** it. I grab these new senses and attach it to my masses of emotions, that have been formed my these chemicals. neutrons and protons that explore the breadth oh Pantones schemes, weaving into the atoms that feed my jumbles dreams.
release my mind from the confines of rinse and repeat, out of easy street and onto the sunrise that surrounds me. revelations that never siese to confound me.
destruction was peace pulling my beliefs, daring the world to touch me as the floor tips the cabinets from the walls. I am small. here in this perfect world. my hands make the plants grow as they show me all it takes to break the confines of the human condition is to expand your mind and reposition your nervous system to reach a different supposition.
little lion
please read my other work if you like this one!
http://trivialitesofabusymind.blogspot.co.uk/
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 5:02 PM UTC
Always follow your dreams
Even if they involve
Lions
Elephants
Motorcycles
Flying through the air
Meeting an alternate version of yourself
Talking to invisible creatures
Throwing pie at people
Interpretive dance
Singing in nonexistent languages
Walking on the celing
Contortions
Swallowing fire and blades
Leotards
Hoopskirts
Facepaint
Masks
Or flashing lights
Because in the end
When other people see it
They'll either laugh with you
Or stare, breathless and in awe
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 11:37 PM UTC
this poem is only a degradtion
of the scenerio I have manifested on the border line of my sanity
words
that seem to absorb deeper words
when the thought of feeling the flesh
under your mind comes into correct place
yes
movements please and
light sighs
breeze
through the thin air
strong and ambiguous
my lines to
you
I am thrown
sprawled on the floor
and I move through the rooms in your house
I kiss every corner
and press my chest against every celing
I bathe in every shower
down pouring of your technique on my
small body
I walk outside
I take the plunge into your unirverse
and interact with all the evil in it
I let it consume my very core
in the deepest part of my womb
how beautiful,
as we explore
every
downpour
.
.
.
this this
is something that I never understood before
and now I cant ignore
I lay and praise in the mirror
the ****** *****
I feel you now
the winds move fast
I whisper to them
to ease and slow
to caress me completely
and then the waves come again
and I am washed on shore
powerless and wanting more
as I stare into your skies
my hands are trembeling
on top of your child like
eyes
Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 6:48 PM UTC
When I lay on my bed all day
Listening to a Paper Kites playlist
You'll know that I don't give a **** anymore
When I stare at the celing or the view of the balcony
Just don't try and knock on my door
I don't care if you care...
I don't care if you don't...
I don't need anything
From you or your soul
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 3:39 AM UTC
There is a void inside you now that you do not understand, it is filled with the cracking of sticks and the smell of his old gym socks.
The weather is 62 and sunny there, he always told you he would start running, much like you would give up smoking and ripped up tights.
He thought it was disgusting how your lipstick stained his coffee cups.
You found his old hairbrush with hairs still attached, and used toothbrush laying on the floor near your lipstick stained shot glass.
Reminisce you can’t return.
He always smelled like after the down pour, after all the yelling is done,
When you sit in a chair and notice all the cracks in the celing, the bright green light of the computer charger, and you think to yourself, how bad of a person you must be.
Then he disappears to go running maybe, or because it was too hard to handle the way your sunglasses cluttered his nightstand,
Or maybe because you showed him who he really was, the reality of an imperfect being,
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 2:52 AM UTC
I feel so lonely...
And the darkness of today seems to never end..
Laying in my bed listening to my best friend talking... Im Looking at the Celing I can't keep my mind off of the things my mind deeply wants to linger in.
I wish I could just sink into this old carpet floor.
Because I'd feel safe there.
A human being can be used...
A person can be treated like a used toy....
But my old rugged carpet can not.
I wish I could blend in with the ocean and not the sand.
So u wouldn't be able to walk all over me.
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC
Nights are getting longer.
I lay in bed just staring at the celing.
Days are getting harder.
Due partly to the lack of sleep.
Partly because It's getting harder to pretend I'm not falling apart.
Every time someone says "How are you?"
I just want to pour my heart out.
Finally let someone know I'm not okay.
Or when I say,
"I'm good."
I just want someone to look me in the eye and say "I know you're not."
For once I don't want to feel invisible.
More and more tears stream down my face
The pain wells inside until I break.
Silver steel friends coming out to play.
I do my best, but it's never enough.
I do my best to stay strong,
but I won't lie...it's tough.
I don't really trust anyone anymore,
I have my past to thank for that.
You see, I try my hardest day in and day out...
but really I just want to lay down.
Six feet under.
Underground.
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 11:57 PM UTC
All I wanted was to lay awake with you
In a dark room, staring at the white celing
Not giving a **** about the world
Or talking bout' feelings
Just listening to my old records
In silence.. Without saying a single word
With our hearts wide open
And our clothes all over the floor
But I was never good to you
Thats what I get for being true
It seems like you've always prefered
All those little ****** that want you to be scared
Dear, lonelyness is nothing to be afraid of
You can always find a friend
Inside the next glass of liquor
Oh, love.
One can never bet too young to seek for truth
Don't know much about it myself
But we can find it together if you want me to
With you I'd sail the seven seas
Through tides and storms until the sky completely clears.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 2:51 AM UTC
She stood then and looked back at the computer on her desk. Her connection to a world she's lost. She decided then that wanted him only for the satisfaction that a young one feels when they win against an opponent in feild games. He was her peer, emotionally at least. In age, he was always beyond her reach just slightly. She remembered trying to cath the hem of his shirt as his life raced ahead. Trying just to catch a ride with him. She was fated to pretend her own life was going somewhere, racing off towards some distant horizon. But there was no one on the hem or her coat, so truly she had no measure of her aging.
The only way to count it is by the moments she wished defined her. Birth, loss of innocence, and finally-Death. She has lusted for it, yes.
She pours herself a glass of water.Her red eyes seem to fall from her head into the cup, distortion of reality is her only release. She finds it in the bowl of her pipe, in the resin left on her ring finger. Her salvation can be purchased as a twenty sack.
She finds him often in the darkness, hovering just above her. She reaches out to her celing, hope sinking as arm rises.
"Are you there?" She will as the air around her, ask as she shifts off to sleep. Her salvation can also be bought by exhaustion.
In her dreams, he's one of changing shadows. A presence, constant and shallow. She has never asked the shadow his name, she doesn't want to know.
She is content in the waking world, her bright and happy world. It's only when the night comes that she wishes to run, to beat her opponent. To raise the flag above her head and beam in victory.
Salvation comes to her with the coming light, be it from her lighter, the sun, or the lamp beside her bed.
Jun 26, 2010
Jun 26, 2010 at 9:03 PM UTC
I have time
I have shelter
I have food and money
I have love
I have hate
I have so much nothing
I have nothing
I have vast collections of nothing
I have nothing stacked to the celing
I have nothing draped upon my body
I have nothing in my heart and mind
I have an immeasureable wealth of nothing
I have nothing in my eyes
I have nothing
I have so much nothing
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
I paint my walls because I think maybe it's the blue that I grew up with that is making my feel so awful
I cover the walls with pictures of better times and brighter smiles because I think that maybe if I put up memories of happy times that maybe I will forget all the blood these walls have seen
I hang things up and cover the celing in stars so I will stop crying myself to sleep every night
I put up pictures of you to remember that it will be okay
I put up fairy light to hide the scars on my leg
I open the window to air out my sorrows and release my deamons
But it doesn't work
Nothing does
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 7:02 PM UTC
We ride past the revolution
carefully
observing
behind the glass windshields of our taxi.
While some inhale
the fumes of mother earth
drying their tears on their own.
I’m racing home
hitting roadbumps so hard
everyone smashes their heads against the celing.
Lost in
fantasies that never rhyme like truth does…
Can you explain why they lie so much?
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 9:30 PM UTC
This is it
my perfect bliss
the perfect kiss
at the end of her ruby lip stick
now picture this.
a young man who had fallen inlove
age 16, the protagonist of this story thought he had finally won.
the jackpot.
well that's a thought,
his perfect world came crumbling down when his girl got caught,
straight leaning.
going into bed with other men
right then he felt his mind start to break and mend.
he was broken,
A shell,
A pain unspoken.
he's now in hell,
heartless,
with his pride stolen.
thoughts of suicide Plague his mind,
The voices in his head screaming "DO IT NOWS YOUR TIME!"
but he was scared,
and he cared,
about his family.
why should they suffer because he discovered true insanity?
now what's next?
the steps,
to full recovery?
he doesn't want pills or to sit for hours in therapy.
there's only one way to make what's wrong right,
go out in the night, with this knife, and take this man's life.
that's what they said
the voices,
inside my head.
its him or me!
i thought about it last night iwhile i layed in bed.
the only way to stop these voices inside my head,
is ether **** him dead or to take my own life instead!
I CAN'T DO IT!
lets face it,
I'm not a real man,
those ******* voices telling me "THIS ACT CAN NOT STAND!
NOW GO OUT AND RETAIN YOUR HONOR!
YOU THINK HE GAVE A **** ABOUT YOU WHILE HE ****** HER?!"
this is it.
its time.
to tie the knouse,
and hang from this celing fan until my face turns blue.
**** THAT! LETS GO AND **** HIS MOM,
IN FRONT OF HIM AND WE CAN MAKE THIS A PERSONAL ISSUE!"
in hindsight,i couldve made a better choice.
Now I'm in jail, with no bail, and alone with this voice.
i tell the judge "I HAVE NO REGRETS, WELL MABEY ONE.
I NEVER GOT THE CHANCE TO GET MY HANDS ON HER ONLY SON.
BUT ILL WAIT 100 YEARS AND ROT IN THAT CELL
FOR THAT FAITHFUL DAY WHEN I MEET THAT SORRY ******* IN HELL..."
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 9:14 AM UTC
i lay on my bed at night and i stare up at those little plastic stars on my celing
i see you in them
i see me in them
you shine so bright and you are the light i look towards
but i am recyclable plastic
i tell myself that you dont need me anymore, that you have them now.
i am so angry that you left me
well you didnt actually, but i feels like it
these impaired chemicals in my brain make my emotions overexaggerated
im trying to be happy but i cant let it go
you dont mention me
in your posts anymore
im sorry
i love you
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 11:56 AM UTC
I think of you...
In his arms
What happened to our heart carved into that oak tree?
You were my first in that dark candlelit room
Our shadows against the wall
Our naked souls colliding
You were my everything
But now you are in the bed of another man
Getting tangled up in his sheets
I hope he treats you like a princess
All these memories flooding in
I pop open another Bud Light
Trying to drown out our loving memories
But they are burned into the back of my heart
I lie on my bed
Staring at the celing
Whispering your name into the comforting dark
I imagine you next to me
And all hell is loose
I go down to the cellar
I grab a bottle of Jack
Your laugh and radiating smile putting me to sleep in sorrow
Another drunken night thinking of us.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 9:58 PM UTC
I close my eyes, but sleep won't come
What have I become?
I am a stranger
My thoughts, I cannot wrangle
I lie awake, staring at the celing
The next day, I am dreading
Why can't I just look like her?
These thoughts I ponder
Oh, how I wish they would disappear over yonder
But they just keep coming back
You see, "beauty" is what I lack
I am not beautiful
Nor wonderful
I always compare myself to others
But I don't even know why I bother
Wasting my time
Won't make me a dime
But here I am staring at the ceiling
These tears roaming
In the dark
I feel like a piece of bark
Ripped from a tree
I can never just be thee
I can never just be happy
For all I am is ******
But don't worry y'all
This ain't gonna be the last time I fall.
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 6:30 PM UTC
its not always at night when you miss him, when you lay in bed staring at the celing wondering where you went wrong or when you couldve tried harder.
sometimes its at 1pm on a random thursday and youre laughing but all of a sudden you remember something from when you were with him and it hurts like a bullet to the chest and theres nothing you can do about it
Dec 25, 2017
Dec 25, 2017 at 8:44 PM UTC
Many Tapestries are Woven
The sun beat down upon the globe
saturateing rows of blue miasma
Hues of yellow threw reflection
scattering like condensation
cast before a strobe light blinking
upon the vast horizon's mirrored
ocean of sinking constellations
Shadows fray from midnight twine
roped over planes of spacial awareness
Knots untie and rip the lines
displayed as appropriately framed
right angled protruding grades
constrained in lower dimensions
where this contour hangs
diluting grey
Foraging through the void of depth,
time crept into layered realms where
strings untangle every second
stretching into decades after
Hours draped like stalactites dangled
dripping from the ceiling yet,
their patterns never settle,
dragging faster across the celing rafters
Plaster breaks revealing
all their metal structures
resting underneath
Shapes solidify in space and
trace their source's essence back
across dissolving acetyl mazes
growing larger among the shade
Only light dissipates beneath the
growing twilight haze
Vaporizing acid rains
storm and drain before the flowers
drink their poison showers or their
dew drops melt the grassy plains
Every cornerstone is held in place and
tied to the dimension beneath, repeating
patterns search for meaning, wich
several different needles stitch
each thread into a lace
Here we are observing, learning,
breeding, and obsessively searching
for purposeful meaning
while we maintain these vibrant shapes
which often trace the jagged lines
crisscrossing the void of space
Eventually these strings will rupture,
torn by the very structure
created when dimensions
touch their tapered ends together
Stars are punctured pin ******
testing spacetime elasticity
before stretching it back straight
Life has been assimilated
by the crystalline structures
which have woven its own tapestry
blissfully in place
Jul 14, 2021
Jul 14, 2021 at 9:51 AM UTC