"childishly" poems
The mind of that girl is a pain sanctuary
whose aching decreases due to a world that's imaginary.
From home she goes out to get away,
and all those nights in stranges she relies.
The soft morning breeze
tenderly dries the tears in her cheeks,
and childishly it peeks
through her bloodshot eyes looking for a trace of peace.
Nobody could really tell
if she, bones and flesh, is still alive
or if she's just a wanderer ghost.
Probably the only one of her kind.
The dark circles under her eyes
are a proof of the restless crying nights.
The tangled auburn messed up hair
tells she didn't sleep at home, but no one cares.
Picking up flowers on the way back home,
humming songs that once made her feel whole.
She rests for a few hours and once awake she grabs a pen,
she writes down a poem before she gets drunk again.
Somehow she finds calm
in the simple things of life,
and she tries not to think
about the coldness in her eyes.
Barely getting through, day by day,
trying not to be absorbed by all the grey.
Amassing countless heartbeats
to the final point where life she quits.
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 10:17 PM UTC
You have taught me so many things
You taught me:
how easily a stranger can become an acquaintance that brightens your day, a co-worker that makes work a little more exciting
how abrupt that pang of disappointment can be when I didn't see your face
how maddening it is to keep your feelings to yourself
how rewarding it is to get those feelings off your chest, because you felt the same way
how crazy butterflies can be - when my stomach would turn in anticipation of seeing you
how childishly young I can feel, giddy with hopes of hanging out with you or getting a text
how both electrifying, and paralyzing, a first kiss can be
that love can grow seemingly overnight and that your whole life becomes consumed with thoughts of the other
that hearing "I love you" whispered from your dear one's arms is what would probably be described as Heaven
that I deserve to feel special, and beautiful, and wanted, and happy
that holding someone's hand or cuddling can instantly make you forget a bad day
how heart-wrenching leaving you miles away could be (even if we were only apart for two weeks)
what the first hug and kiss after getting off the plane should feel like
how nice it is to feel stable, comfortable, and make plans for the future
How quickly everything can change
that sometimes people won't include you, even if you're there for them and even if they love you
how drifting apart can make time stand still
how many tears a single person can cry
that wondering what the other one is doing can drive you into a form of depression
how realizing he's not ever going to be the perfect boyfriend again can hurt
that doubting everything you ever did isn't healthy, because it's not your fault
how not being a priority can make you the angriest you've ever felt
how distrustful I become of believing those words...I love you
that I still feel crazy about you
how it's possible to be upset and mad at someone and still want to fix all their problems and give them everything they want
how hard it is to let go
that sitting at home isn't going to help anything
that thinking about the golden days, when I knew you loved me so much that it was unbelievable even to me, isn't going to bring us back together
that you have a lot of growing up to do and things to work on
that my wonderful prince isn't always wonderful
that I also have growing up to do, and much more to learn
that a few months with you were some of the best of my life and I've never felt more special
how a real relationship should feel - and even though it wasn't perfect, I still feel like it was
And finally:
you won't be the one I have that relationship with, but you taught me what to look for when I'm ready
And for that I'll always be grateful
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 12:03 AM UTC
Greetings audience.
I am off my medication now and I am feeling vastly better. Something just cleared my conscious and vascular blockage so joyously. I will not be posting videos due to my camera and devices breaking. No diatribes nor any vitriolic comments were conferred during my time gone throughout my family and my peers, assuming that is the reason I am now healthy (dropping toxic ties). Unluckily, all of my social media was hacked. Refrain from following anything linked with my name. Indeed, I am not here to bloviate, rather to celebrate. Thank you for your cooperation. I will now go play childishly. Farewell. : )
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
we heard them talking
about a meteor shower
expected later that night
highly anticipated
set to accompany
the rust red supermoon
that we caught
following us home
lay down upon blankets
a meagre effort
to provide at least
a little comfort
while we witnessed
this astral magnificence
the significanceof which
none of us was certain
childishly imagining
a spectacle from
the dazzling of shooting stars
trailing tails like fireworks
pointing in wonder
appearing briefly
before burning out
instead
we found ourselves staring
up at one of those
countless spots of white
slowly
unenthusiastically
drifting across
the stratosphere
it could be a meteor
maybe just an aeroplane
or simply a twinkling
trick of the light
yet still we watched
without excitement
without direction
without relevance
Aug 24, 2022
Aug 24, 2022 at 10:17 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
"~Snuggling~"
Marsha Ambrosius smell,
Wait!! How I do I know how she smells?
Well nevermind,
So mixed with wasting our time,
Of blabbering on how beautiful you look,
When we should be snuggling under the stars,
They took,
A lot away from you and me,
Sacrifice so much for you and me,
Please leave without bad memories,
If I die would you cry,
Would you plead,
I'm just waiting for a little bliss,
Waiting for a sincere beautiful atmosphere,
Waiting for affection,
Waiting for a kiss,
I plead........
"K.O.C.A"
.... To be your rock,
When you need someone to lean on,
My heart is made of stone,
Aside from feelings that can't be shown,
But I won't say leave me alone,
Truthfully a life without you,
Is a crisis,
So please don't leave me gone,
We play childishly,
But when we make the sweetest love,
I'm indebted to your open casualties,
As tender as a prime cooked rib,
Show it out of me,
The feelings that I give,
I would die without you,
Baby I wanna live,
I'm too young to die,
You are too,
So why don't we die together,
Let the flowers bloom.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 11:12 PM UTC
the impact of mankind is profound
it's ridiculously simple
--childishly intent on giving commands and ordering respect
meanwhile leaving behind fierce footprints of disrespect
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 2:27 PM UTC
I grew up childishly neglected my emotions
Because I got taught the stereotype of a man
Nothing more than a teenage boy crying into a pillow
Keeping the noise low
And his eyes dry before his mother comes home
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 8:51 AM UTC
Fever-flushed children and
Broken bodies
Litter hospital halls like so much
Human refuse
….Wondering why
their need for care is treated so tepidly by a
Society which worships
Profits
Power and
Prestige
….Waiting while
they wallow in anguish as
Privacy
Paperwork and
Payment are
Debated by bureaucrats in cubicles
….Wanting to be refreshed and
restored to some measure of usefulness
….But
Free to Pursue Life on their terms in exchange for
Silence
Acceptance and
Despair
Huddling for warmth and in
Fear of discovery
they assemble in rag-tag formation
having scaled formidable fences
Seeking freedom from
Poverty and oppression
Searching for work of any sort
….No matter how
Humiliating or
Hard
….No matter the
Cost or
Conditions
Disparaged and despised they labor
in hope that their children will have a chance for success
instead of suffering a similar fate
…..But
Free to Pursue Liberty
in a land where their presence is
Ignored if not Denied
Unkempt in camouflage
One-legged and
Vacant-eyed
he rolls his rickety wheelchair along grassy median with muted effort
displaying cardboard sign
childishly scripted
in one weather-worn and gnarled hand
while clutching a decapitated jug in the other
Forgotten
Forlorn, and
Discarded veteran
Victimized far more by country than foe
….But
Free to Pursue Happiness while
Begging on street corners as
Upright citizens dispense
Unwelcome opinions or
Pocket change with equal
Self-righteousness
Life
Liberty and the
Pursuit of happiness….
Ideals that slowly incinerate on the
Altar of Capitalism
….Songs forever lost in the
Cacophony now
Played on the
Instrument of Politics
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 7:17 PM UTC
In the ballroom, half past the hour I struggle to find place where bleeding walls are curtailing chase. and in the crude mix of masqueraded hearts I found your true face I watched you stroll in and out of fits of love, destroying every good thing left to break
In the ballroom, three quarters past the hour I felt your cruelty pierce my skin and bone to a core, childishly toying with an old doll that couldn't take the pain anymore
so that one day when pride knocks on your door he'll bestow you upon the floor and may you rest there forevermore.
but in the ballroom, as the hour ends, for now you say amen before you feast upon the fragile thin of souls that belong to men whom may never love again. and may love never forgive you for this sin.
In the ballroom, for the rest of your extent,
may all the lost souls never forgive nor forget you for this sin.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
Before me now a little picture lies—
A little shadow of a childish face,
Childishly sweet, yet with the dawning grace
Of thought and wisdom on her lips and eyes.
Fair, oval, broad-brow'd face—small, delicate head—
Transparent skin, with blue veins shining through—
All the soft outlines, beautiful and true,
Bring me the echo of the words “God said.”
Made “in our image”—sure 'tis that we see,
God's likeness, in the fair face of a child,
By the world's sin and passion undefiled—
Ay, as I look, it seems quite plain to me.
The light wherein the little features shine,
Strange, mystic light, so undefined and faint,
So far too pure for any words to paint—
'Tis a reflection of the Face divine.
Some day the earthly shadows will be cast
Across that sunshine—it may be to dim
A while the visible countenance of Him;
But 'twill be there—the likeness—to the last.
Some day the lucid waters, in which lie
Pictured those glorious lineaments, will be
Stirred up and troubled like a stormy sea;—
But they will yet re-settle—by-and-by.
They will re-settle when the soul is still'd,
Its passions, its wild longings, and its pain;
The pure reflection will shine out again
When earth's hopes are relinquish'd, unfulfill'd.
They will re-settle in those after-years
When life's hard lessons have been conned and learn'd;
Then this child's beauty will have all return'd,
More lovely for the trouble and the tears.
They will re-settle in the calm of death,
When the sweet eyes are laid asleep, and when
The heart is hush'd. Truly God's likeness then—
The mirror clear, unsullied by a breath.
Ah! while I look, and trace each tender line,
I think most of the day when I shall see
The dear face in that perfect purity,
Its mortal features clothed with the divine.
This self-same face, but with the image bright,
Nevermore undefined, and faint, and dim;
This self-same face, yet like the face of Him,
In glory and in beauty infinite.
2.4k
Don't sleep
Don't sleep
I begin to
Like you
A little bit more
I shift and sigh
Say your name
Fatigue rolls
Somewhere by
But, alert I
Imagine
So many paintings
To make for you
You mumble
Childishly
Your laughter
Is glittery
I wish
For so little
I wish too
Intensely
Dont wipe me
With a stiffened cloth
Soaked
In turpentine
And a hundred hues
Dont stir me
I might be disturbed
Out of skill
Out of thought
Onto a burlap scene
Grotesque
Picturesque
And so, so true
Don't move
Or I might too
I might too
Become a facet
Among the facets
Of your horrors
I might
Become art
Might become
Beautiful
In that strange
Black way
Of art
Dont sleep
Talk to me
Speak to me
Let us be
Normalities
Let us
Hold
Technicalities
Forget
Sentimentality
In the silly blue painting
Of an eyeless pretty
Smooth and porcelain
Perfectly closed
No night
To mourn into
Dissolve into
To stumble,
To tremble into
Don't sleep
I become too much alone
Shrivel, burnt sienna
I cannot move alone
I become the paintings
That I fear to paint
I become the sombre
Debris of your laughter
Cold, blue
Featureless
A moonlit night
Nothing but red
You don't know
That I like you
In my head
Come back
Come back
Apr 30, 2023
Apr 30, 2023 at 6:10 PM UTC
Gene Wilder's ***** Wonka* once asked me
to step into a world
of pure imagination
and I danced to his voice
of sugary imperfections.
The swelling strings drizzled
on top falsetto inflections
captured me childishly
with candy-coated attentions
But even the finest chocolate melts,
and I learned to let purity be
pushed by treacly lyrics
or stern midgets secure
in their fudge-topped zealotry.
It sifts too pretty for me,
powdering my grown-up
infatuations with petty
wants, getting a little messy
What I crave instead's stained-glass contraptions
to propel me past the stretches
of biblical proportion
where light and dark don't mix.
I'm no Idiot, good-hearted
in the veins of Fyodor
or Akira, and I can't see
beyond the pure tedium
of a blurredly driven snow
I like my mental drifts grime-choked and splotched
with some savory do
dropped in to dissolve flossy
confections to a salted soup
of imagined impurity.
May 20, 2010
May 20, 2010 at 6:08 PM UTC
It's the worry you need to get in front of
Run, walk, or crawl but keep moving
The son of a ***** is a persistent ache
But it is you who create it and make it several hundred repeating thoughts at all hours of the night or day when the sun is high and you get lost in the bright bright bright lights of tomorrow
You cultivate the stampede of words that echo childishly throughout your mind as they fiddle with you
And if you let the big bulging tidal wave of anxiety and fear of tomorrow be one bigger than the tiny sentence you yourself created it actually is
Well, it's time to get up and check your clock and hands and apartment
You created this, this thing called "worry"
And in the end, you'll get rid of it
It's figuring how to, how to be ahead of this thing called "worry"
Reading, walking, working, sweating, driving, thinking about somebody you've ****** thinking of what you'll be able to get done tomorrow or right now or eventually, and it'll happen
Think of things bigger than the thoughts of worry of life of tomorrow
Think of what you're doing at the moment
Think of the World Cup or the driving test you took when you were a child
Think of the tv shows you laugh at
Think of the faces on the bus
Think of science think of painting
Think of your height or deli sandwiches
Think of the Tuesday night traffic you hear outside of your apartment window and think, where are they going tonight? Will my thoughts go with them or will I leave them here
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 2:11 AM UTC
As a young child
I played and thought it would never stop
We would literally 'go wild'
With our makeshift bows and arrows, our plastic six shooters, and our macho cowboy hats we'd throw on just to top...
It off
Yes they were 'war games', but they brought us together
Although as expected, one or two of us would at some point get ticked off
By one thing or another
But we stayed childishly united
The stutterer, the other kid with asthma... and the orphan, that kid without a mother
Played side by side, like sisters and brothers
You just joined in, no need to be invited
This was innocence, the only guilt you felt was knowing you were two hours passed your curfew
Or maybe because earlier you had showered yourself with your aunt's perfume
Sometimes I wish we could go back to that innocence
Replay that last tune, on the harp of joy
They keep telling me life is not a game anymore
I'm like 'as long as it makes me smile, I will keep this toy'.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 2:01 AM UTC
I know there are Reasons you cannot tell
As Foregone Moments no-one should discuss
Not even I, though Mara suits me well
That better to Praise than childishly Fuss
These are all Wrongs; And Rumours un-requite
Un-fulfill my Duty for you to Stand
And see you this Sprout; And just Live your Life
What Mused Attraction I can't Understand
And strange, at least, how your Army stands still
Though primed to Assault me by your Command
With Seeds this taken and planted to fill
My reserved Punishment waiting at hand.
All I have to do is just block this Page
Then resume my Ritual burning with Rage.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 11:32 PM UTC
Sometimes on the way out of Giant,
I'll spend some time freeing change
from the receipt-paper
bindle in my coat pocket
for one two-twist mystery prize
from a Folz machine.
Two quarters:
Enough for a sapphire ring and a cheap
laugh while I juggle coffee-cream cartons,
a sack of December oranges, Certs,
cinnamon mouthwash, a dented can
of green beans 'cause it's cheaper,
red toothpicks, Ziploc bags, a barbecue
chicken TV dinner, Noxzema, a 32-case
of Poland Spring water, a Valentine's
Hallmark card and envelope, a bottle
of pink grapefruit Perrier,
two quick picks for Cash 5,
gluten-free potato chips, garlic salt,
some cumin for $2.82, and a copy
of Vogue.
I strap my groceries in the passenger seat,
and see them sitting straight up as I had,
childishly marveling at the lush
maple leaves washing the windshield
edges in green, leaving helicopters
and dew trails.
She and I watched slug trails
beneath mustard streetlights glisten
like Berger Lake.
Bright as the last cigarette my grandma snuffed out in a smokeless ash tray.
Bright as the first line of road flares that separated me from a burning Taurus.
Bright as the quarter my grandpa gave me for the Folz machine in the Sylvania.
And bright as the emerald ring I showed him.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 3:27 PM UTC
I would like
To witness you in another habitat,
And childishly pester you at work,
And awkwardly make pointless conversation-
Just enough to keep you wondering
If I came to see you or not.
I would like
To delicately undress your mind,
And walk up out of nowhere,
And playfully invite with a coy little smile-
To discuss your philosophy
Under the mundane guise of “coffee”.
I would like
To introduce my spirit to yours,
And let them circle each other in the park,
And sniff out each other’s aetherous attributes-
Perhaps initiating a game of fetch
Between two nervous systems.
I would like
To steal a busy night away,
And show you all my mundane wonders,
And see what you have to say-
Could you ascend truths in my walls
Unbeknownst even to me?
I would like
To be perfectly forward,
And say “You sparkle and intrigue me,
And I would like to get to know you better,” -
Do people do that?
I would like to.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 4:19 AM UTC
Took one step into his lonesome world.
The clouds there were peculiarly pixelated in a forgettable shade of #999999
Digitally coded water vapor condensing into dense bubbles of thought
They resembled puzzle pieces childishly misplaced
Naivety was finger-painted along the lining and edges
While other bits played a quiet game that seemed to find them wanting
I did wonder where he hid them
Or if it was someone else who ran away
Who stole the stars in his sky?
Who stole the light in his pocket?
Took another step into his lonesome world.
The wind there had a dance of it's own that seemed to trace a pattern
Oscillating at a rate of 15Hz was a low frequency partner-less sway
Similar to eyelids confused and batting their lashes
Or wiper blades clearing tears off cars during a storm
Occurring without much thought was the drizzle with each wave
I did wonder why he danced alone
Or was it someone else who simply walked off
Who turned his sky on?
Who turned his lights off?
Took a breath standing in the center of his lonesome world.
I looked up and to my surprise found the eye of his mind
Staring back at me from those ***** clouds
It was the reason to all being and the wind was it's doing
Rising high up from an endless undisturbed nap
It was;
Brighter than the Sun itself
Bursting citrus with each blink
Bleeding pulp over my skin
Burning like acid on my own wounds
Delightful heat dripping off my tongue
Psychedelic spirals twisting my limbs
And
i danced and spun
And
i lost and won
Please find me somewhere in those broken memories of yours
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 8:14 AM UTC
I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved? were we not weaned till then,
But ****** on country pleasures, childishly?
Or snorted we in the seven sleepers’ den?
’Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be.
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got, ’twas but a dream of thee.
And now good morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear;
For love all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
Let sea discovers to new worlds have gone,
Let maps to others, worlds on worlds have shown:
Let us possess one world; each hath one, and is one.
My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
Where can we find two better hemishperes,
Without sharp North, without declining West?
Whatever dies was not mixed equally;
If our two loves be one, or thou and I
Love so alike that none do slacken, none can die.
1.5k
It showed on their face.
The rides were fun
but they were breathless.
From the cable car
the sky seemed not that far
and to the wind it was unfair
to have two men without much hair.
Rain had brought color to soft eyes
huddling and cuddling at free wills
but sought shelter these two guys
from the teen lovers' merry squeals.
They rushed to be in time for the first row
childishly enthralled by the 3D show
dipping the whole of their emotion
in the history of origin and evolution.
The day had been too soon done
when in the melted afternoon sun
the two forgot all the worries
in the romance of rediscoveries.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 9:09 PM UTC
Within the depths of my heart is where yours may lay,
like sisters, but closer, because we pray.
God brought us together and let us be family.
We look at old pictures and laugh oh so childishly!
My life, without you, would be dark, dim, and dreary.
Childhood would be different, re-writing my history.
You know where I am, and you know where I've been,
I know who you are, and how to make you grin.
Telepathy and encoded messages are how we communicate,
Words are unneeded, unnecessary, they have no weight.
A sparkle in your eye can write me a novel,
At our friendship, and sisterhood, I marvel.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 12:04 AM UTC
Smashing light bulbs in the dark to see
shattered sparks
Growing flowers to pull off all the petals
individually
Saved in the pages of unread novels, piles of
words
By some madman who had something to say, still has
something to say
Collect yourself for the next day, take a deep breath &
sleep
Because it will likely be worse than today, if not,
rejoice
Because you beat the odds, gamed the game
for once
I quietly thumb through faded photographs, trying
to remember that day
One of them, any of them, something to try for
again
Because I cannot dream anymore, I forgot
how
Somewhere along the line, it all drained
away
Crushed every morning at five thirty by screaming
alarm clocks
Damning me, sending me to hell, glaring red
numbers
Sweating out the anger, childishly smashing my
knuckles to pieces
I am temporary as the clouds spinning 'round the
mountains
One of these days, I'll climb them & try my luck at
flying
Jul 14, 2011
Jul 14, 2011 at 8:15 PM UTC
I miss the way you’d always be the first to call me in the morning
I miss feeling like I found someone in the world who understood who I could be
I miss how I was your girl, the person you went to when everything started to fall apart
I miss being fearlessly, childishly in love
I miss how we were able to just sit in utter silence and have the best time of our lives together
I miss those days when reality seemed much better than my dreams
I miss being that girl who loved, laughed, lived with her heart on her sleeve
I miss you and me
I miss us
I miss looking up at the stars and knowing you’ll be looking too, just thinking of me.
I miss thinking life always has a way of working out
I miss believing in myself
I miss those nights we spent under the sky light, counting the stars till the sunrise
I miss thinking that I had it all figured out, my life, who I wanted to be
I miss being who I thought I was
I miss those good old days, days that are just memories now
I miss you
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 6:58 PM UTC