"cieling" poems
Dribbling drops from above,
sunken in cieling
seal skin smooth
saltfish nicely
butchered
bubbling
Floats and
sinks for
ocean floor
kisses
-coquetishly-
Can't stay too
long,
Hey, I'm Mister
Meeseeks,
look at me!
Can you finish cooking?
Can't exist too
long
Simple tasks in
order to give
them a quick
and proper
inevitable
heat death
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
Nearly four decades ago, nearly half a century
I walked Freedom Boulevard from
a lonely bus stop and as I drove there
the other day I saw a girl standing at one who could have been
me, in memory -- frozen
Would it still be there? One of my treasured childhood memories
Still living, not someone's brand new home, or a bunch of Villas in a gated community, lost
The land bleeds in California, but has started to scar over and forget the apple orchards
across the street from The Barn, where I used to ride, and now the houses are at least
covered in trees as nature tries to overtake the foreign, like in Cherenobyl
The big red barn sitting atop a small hill, crammed with horse paddocks now that
the little barns turned to condos. But it is still there. Like magic, frozen in time.
The red barn, I walk in, it looks smaller than I remember
but the ***** brown cobwebs still cover the cieling and I am
nine years old again
Before I knew the boundaries of my gender
When I felt powerful, if neglected, strong and in charge
Before I knew the bindings of my ***
The limitations
I felt strong, and as I stand here,
I may as well be nine again, a single digit
And my fear melts away, and the lessons learned about my place
in the world evaporate
I stand, and look around at the barn nearly unchanged
and reclaim myself
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 10:52 PM UTC
this repetitive
this repetitive action
this repetitive action at night
when staring at the cieling
looking for, hoping for thoughts
instead it is an emotioneless stare
at the walls of your room
a tired stare, but not tired enough
to close your eyes
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC
CAUTION : Piece includes words that might create graphic pictures in your imagination so reader discretion is advised. Enjoy..
A story about a little girl who got robbed of her pride..
The truth she holds.. Makes her feel so cold as she unfolds..
The story she never told
The story that awakens the pits of hell
The story about a little girl
She was pinned against the wall
Being 15, she was a little small
Slapped and beaten to the point were she couldn't even crawl
Their ***** against the cookie..You know.. The *****
Tongue against her chest, between her *******
You can imagine the rest!
The constant touching and feelings
Her eyes? Glued to the cieling
Screaming, pleading..
Praying and begging the merciless men
To stop their merciless act..
All night long ******* her brains out..
I can see the agony in her eyes
Saying "Help me" but the words sentenced to life, refusing to get out!
The freight kissing.. The cookie licking
Forced to do the ball ******* and of course
The constant ******* The ******* The *******
Crying.. Weeping.. Till the point were
There were no more tears to shed,,
no more words to say..
It was like she got auctioned with these demon to bid, But she was just a kid!
Sold to the devil and his accomplice in the chair..
Pulled off the good life by the strands of her hair
She was like a puppet to them.. Dangling from limb to limb
"No one cares" they said..
Cutting her and ******* her, wishing she was dead..
She thought they were right you see..
"Cause all that time no one gave a **** about me"
But I do.. And you know why? Because she is little girl.. Just like me... Do You? <3
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 11:55 PM UTC
Arriving at work and fearing the day
My inner world destroyed and neglected
I would walk, and look for my guiding light
If you were there, the lights would be on
and I could see that long thin greenish light
from hundreds of feet away and it would be like
the lighthouse in the storm
and I would warm my tattered mind in it
know that I would see you
And it was always a disappointment
You don't care about me, only yourself, your job, your family
I am noticed for what I can do to help you with these things
Or for a brief ****** moment as you glance and flirt
Like a tasty little high
Today I walk, my eyes averted from your office
trying to soothe my shattered inner world
and take care of it like a wounded child
and build my own warmth
my own fire within
to nurture and sustain me.
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 1:48 PM UTC
News Flash:
Religious Science has created life!
With heat and pressure
and Sounds Sounds Sounds!
Watch their lead-boy
dance and sing
recordings placed in his
chest
by People Who Know.
Listen close
to his strictures about what
is abominable
you can hear their voices
in the crackling gray
noise:
The buzzing of cieling fans
in offices far away, Oz
The humming chatter of
"The maid found a dove
drowned in the pool!"
"Oh, how unsanitary,
truely abominable."
You really should see
him dance
in the Starstudded Ballroom
where the wicked pace
in the side-halls
dreaming of childhood summers
at the lake
and kisses in the morning.
Holy Science has smithed life!
Holy bullets smelted a fine
man.
Wholy Holey Holy Bullets.
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
i could sit here all night
staring at the cieling
feeling kinda alright
listening to ****** LP's
and imagining i can see the stars through the concrete
thinking, blank shots through this empty room
not really registering anything
nothing actually
if i'd only know if you are doing the same thing
laying down, eyes glazed
if i'd only know that you were thinking of me
then maybe i'd admit i was thinking of you too
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 2:27 AM UTC
I woke fron the depths of army men and poisoned spiders,
Lakes and oceans, home and heavens,
I woke to the slow musicled motions of a sick man,
Achily bending my head to the side for a glance at te clock.
I woke to crying, sobbing, the tears of my brother,
Yelling, frustration of my mother and father,
I woke in tear break, shaky and stolen, somber.
I crawled slowly out of bed,
Wading through water that no one sees, or feels,
Lips paper dry and mouth gaping in drought.
I wake to thirst.
Tea is delivered with a good natured sigh,
A complaint about over work, and a need to return to it,
A slight slump to ever tired shoulders and a gentle push back into bed with words that would be, gentler if you weren't just as exghausted as me ,
but lacking the sleep.
I sigh and lay semi paralyzed , staring at the cieling unseeingly, eyes blinking, slow snow.
I attempt relief from this bed again, knowing returned sleep will grant me more nightmares,
And I sigh, slowly pulling myself to a standing,
My head pounds and my stomach aches.
I attempt to sip at tea,
And I burn my lips?
Startled by this reality I wobble, not managing my mundane task,
I whimper, tears of thin skinned surprise in my eyes,
And slowly, so slowly,
Return to bed.
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 10:04 PM UTC
Peering down from a terrestial heap,
contemplating the debate at the seams,
exposing dim lights and the ones asleep.
I sat awake, in solitude, lost like a sheep.
Per(re?)ceiving all the secrets in ones dreams;
beneath the veil, and the ones that we keep.
What the bars in ones mind are made of are cheap:
confining and containing what one can gleam
from the empty gaps and the mental leaps.
I hope those objects and night-lights help you sleep;
Plato's shadowy projections move with moonbeams,
the brimful moon ebbing causes the shadows to creep.
The farside is bare, in twilight;
the mind becomes a maverick:
turning fireflies to winking sprights.
Can you regard all that I see
when you dream with eyes-closed?
And In your dream do people speak in poem or prose?
Are you transmitting dimensions of three
or are you given your dreams?
Do you wonder who contains those moments
and where they are received?
If heaven is dreaming nigh
I wonder what we would be
If God sent a message
what might be the presage;
And what might be the conveyance?
When you're dreaming Angels touch the ground,
revealing all that is bound.
~dancing with the beyond~
And (angels) evaporate in the dawn, or atleast seeming..
Let your eyes unlock~
Quick! The Gates are sealing
Run to recapture all that they've been stealing:
From all those who wish to lower your cieling.
---
A gypsy is whistling who's been up all night.
The dreams of many slip into hidden spaces:
Closets and under the bed; spirits dissipate.
As morning's light eminates
What do you see?
Mar 9, 2024
Mar 9, 2024 at 7:02 PM UTC
They enter my office
and I am their landfill
They take a cozy seat
on my blue heartbroken couch
They unload all of their garbage
One by one
a banana peel of tears
an alluminum leftover
of regret
and as their tainted trash
piles to the cieling
I take it all from them
with nothing in return
I offer them a clean towel
and an uncluttered
clear hope
And I genuinely
love them for it
I will take all of your dirt
and brown disgust
you've held in bins
all these years
once a week
as long as you want
my beautiful dears
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 5:14 PM UTC
And it's about that time of year and time of day where my mind is a place to stay away from
Stear clear of it when you see me on the sidewalk and cross the street to avoid me like I exude the fear I feel inside
What if I can't make it to tomorrow because tomorrow never comes
What if all this false confidence I claim fades away to show my true face and I'm terrified
That I can't love quite right because my love comes from inside and my insides are turned inside out with how I feel right now
And it's the moments where I'm laying in bed and staring at the constant cycle of the blades of my cieling fan wondering a thousand and three different things
Chief umong them being my own ability to cope
I've playing pretend that I'm okay for a few years now when does fake it till you make it kick in
I'm scared of how my life seems to go nowhere at such a terrifying pace I'm wondering
How I'll survive
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 4:21 PM UTC
i stare at the cieling
can't see much
except the vent...for heat and such
the floor of the attic ..creaks a bunch
am i losing my mind....am i out of touch
im scared to death....because it's late
no one around
to share my hate.......
the glow of light streaks through my door
theres some one walking across the floor.....
i'm now in the fetal
there's no way this is real
if all are asleep
who is the creep
walking the attic....in its bare feet....
noise getting louder...i cover my head
almost wishing i were already dead....
the shrieks and the moans...cant take any more
please mr. ghost
this is no way to cool
oh...moms waking me up
it's time for school....
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 11:27 PM UTC
The world I live in
is quite small.
I live all alone
Just me and the walls
The dust on the cieling
The air chached in bunches
sit patient in corners
waiting for luncheon.
I feed them my time
by standing in places
that have gone untouched
suspended in stasis.
But one day I'll die
and my friends will die with me
because it's all in my head
and boy is that ******
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 12:47 AM UTC
On the couch
Me wrapped up in you
Like some present in the back of a Christmas movie
Heartbeat
Against my skin
This
Must be what it is
On the way home
My head in your lap
Wrapped in the soft blanket you brought so I wouldn't get cold
Staring at the cieling of your father's truck
Your face staring at me in my peripheral vision
Could be the 6th night in a row
That we have been together
And we both know it won't last forever
But your smile sends a shiver down my spine
And I never knew what it looked like
I'd never seen it
Maybe I could imagine it
But I never tried
With you
It came so easy
And I know everyone says that
The same way everyone says it gets better...
I come home
And let out a big sigh
This must be
What love looks like.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 12:04 AM UTC
The ceiling is talking to me and its getting personal.
And I'm not sure if I wanna get this close to something
that's above me and holding me in.
Tomorrow has already gone by,
but I am not quite there yet,
when yesterday is still fogging up the clock,
I wonder why I am somewhere in the middle of a place
I can't seem to wash off.
The ceiling's crying now,
I can't seem to get anything straight
something about the chipped paint and where I punched a hole in the wall
and the words I stapled with the glow in dark stars above my head.
I can't remember where I put my feet and why I can't see the stars.
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 9:57 PM UTC
It's sort of funny in the saddest way.
To find pieces of myself in a man that was never really a part of my life at all.
I wish I knew you well enough to have memories other than playing trivia at a table by the bar watching you stay well past last call.
Fighting with your wife over who would drive home.
Spending every other weekend you had with me staring at the bottom of empty bottles.
And slurring "I love you's" like I might believe them.
Isn't it all I ever wanted?
To be loved by you?
And does anything ever really change?
Can people really change?
You were sober for 5 years after you almost lost your life.
But now I keep waking up to drunk text messages.
Parallel to your drunken confessions in the middle of the night while six year old me tried to comfort you.
Biting my tongue and staring at the cieling fan so I wouldn't cry.
I don't have to hide the tears anymore because you're in another city and I won't ever tell you how bad you hurt me.
But Dad I keep letting men hurt me who tell me they love me at 2 am and I wish I didn't feel like it's because of you.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 9:28 PM UTC
Freddy is brown
Puppet is no-face
Get out of the cieling
before i go realing
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 11:28 PM UTC
I'm not frustrated with anyone
I'm frustrated with frustrating as a whole
Why do I give a **** about all of the ways they lie
I'm so ******* sick of ignorance
Towards each other
Towards themselves
Towards the universe
We all want the same thing . . .
A pair of eyes
( piercing. Soaked up with all the light from every moon, and every star, and every bulb from every cieling )
To look....no.... Gaze /stare/ glance fixedly upon
Or own (pair of eyes)
And without saying a word.
Understand.
All. Of. The. ******* Pain.
To run finger over needles stabbing each ear and
Slowly
Remove their stinging remarks
All while holding a gaze
All, while, holding, a, Gaze
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 1:00 AM UTC
What the heck am I suppose to do if I can already see they have closed their minds. Its not their fault.
I can see how and why too, broken hearts from hopeless narcs...
They say remedy comes from inside I say please dont swollow your pride, take a look around, arrogance is what push us aside,
So kneel down to the being who's with you when you're griefing because only they know the pain you must be in. Pardon my preaching,
I aint trying to hurt your feelings because I know that you rather be in your room hanging from the cieling with a noose around your neck
but understand you must change what you believe in It's all part of the healing process.
Life is what you make of it and I chose to follow the prophets.
Living free I dont want to make any profits because proof shows the poor people are the best ones walking so stop all the **** talking, blessed enough to not think much of it but thats just one of my problems.
I'm scared of the darkness, overcoming my fear is progress so I face my nigtmares by embracing knowledge but still ask for Gods help because the heartless leaves me thoughtless.
They never ask why they just stick to their jobs, and trying to come up with solutions for non existing problems It's nonsense.
Now lets just be honest, the alpha and omega is just ticking the clocks, yes? So ofcourse Jesus (pbuh) will walk the earth at the days of apocalypse.
Astaghfirullah.
Take it as promise but dont knock on my door for more Im just repeating what God said.
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 6:19 PM UTC
FOR THE FIRST TIME, THE PAST IS PAST/
Today, I visited my old home,
after much hesitation and temptations.
I've been there twice before,
stolen glances at m̶y̶ home
both times I came back crying
to my mom at the place
we live in now,
I refuse to call it home
because I swear every single
morning I've woken up in this place
I've been longing to feel how I felt
waking up in my old home;
how I've felt for 14 years.
But today was different:
I looked at m̶y̶ home
with eyes wide open
Yes, there were flashbacks
of standing in front if the pink wall
and my black brown wardrobe
for photographs before dinners;
of the living room walls and
the little white pretty chandelier
hanging at the top;
of blue LED lights on the
cieling of my bedroom,
the warmth of my bed;
of the smell of my parent's room
and the bookshelf in the balcony;
of the sound of the bell
and the key hanger beside the TV;
Of the shelves in the living room
where my mom stocked all my trophies;
Of the sofas where my sister and I
laid doon to have foot fights;
Of the swing on my front porch
where I first heard 1989
and huge window on the forst floor
where I solved math problems every night;
the list never ends;
All the cruel bitter flashbacks
that could've been tender sunlit memories
if they didn't have to sell my home
for the ****** hospital bills.
Today was different
because I didn't let the past
overwhelm my emotions
Instead
I smiled and stared at the paint
over my father's name plate.
A part of me will always reside
in m̶y̶ old home
but I refuse to let it haunt me anymore.
-j.s
Aug 22, 2020
Aug 22, 2020 at 11:13 AM UTC