"clusterfuck" poems
°••°••°••°
°•°◇°•°
There are no
Monsters here...
this, the
abandoned
soft, fertile soil,
that was
to feed the
Family Gardens.
No evil creatures, lurking behind
these timid
hurting hearts.
a painful place...
this invasive, pervasive,
clusterfuck
of Us .
Here lay
The raw,
The ragged
mashed up
mis-understandings.
An onslaught
of hurts,
that float and fester
in our cauldron
of tears.
'Canvas of Colors'
tells Our story...
Melding together
The frozen and
unthawed moments of
all the
Precious
Forever
Embraces
There are no Monsters here
We are the tender
beings that continue
to breathe ragged
after the forest fire,
tripping through
Crumbling Ashes
turned wet black.
Dank and slippery.
Yearning to find
strong footing
amongst these
ruins of our
own doing
No evil creatures, lurking behind
these timid
hurting hearts
There are no Monters here
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 2:40 AM UTC
**Drop your Grudge Rants
by the door
We Will Not Tolarate
This Anymore
Edit and toss Distasteful Rhymes
Ugly Poems with Vain designs
Haughty thoughts and
bitter words
Childish petty accusing verbs
Who did What to Who and When
Will this Clusterfuck never end?
Selfish actions, Spoiled Children
We Refuse to be your Minions
Like CNN
And Drone Fox news
We've had enough of
Self Serving views
Hurting hearts, far and wide
tender Poets with
tenuous pride
Yet, Strutting and Indignant
for who I ask?
All those involved,
A Donkeys ***
Not a home for
Egotistical Zealots
Nor a place for
flinging pellets
We come in Peace, HP to share
Not get caught in ugly snares
And to the few that
have the gaul.
"If you have nothing decent to say,
say nothing at all"**
**YOU CHOOSE TO USE
HP THIS WAY.
GO AWAY. FIND SOME
WHERE ELSE TO PLAY.**
●HELLO●HELLO●HELLO●
Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 6:55 PM UTC
Just because they have disappeared
does not mean that
i'm clutter-free.
It's a cluster-free, a clusterfuck of ******* insanity.
My uncle left right after
my Grampa's funeral,
split like a chicken's *****
"he's in the airforce
or some other human-processing factory,"
Ma would say to me.
My aunt mable,
dipped out
dripped out two kids
then split
like a pillsbury biscuit.
My aunt pat's mom,
left Aunt pat on Aunt FLo's doorstep,
in the sole of her instep,
stepped out on a kid
and a husband
with a left shoe,
the right one
was left behind.
My pops
was forced out,
I saw him drag Ma
through the halls,
saw him whip her face in
with the brass-end
of a leather belt,
everybody's face was leathery
when the cops came in.
There is a litany of disappearing faces
in my family picture, a litany
of the disappeared
who reappear
over thanksgiving and christmas dinners,
when we wax nostalgiac
or hurt
over turkey,
gravy,
and biscuits.
Over love
and how many are missing.
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 12:24 AM UTC
...And then I claimed hell and embedded my soul in mercury
Spun in cotton candy.
Sweet and dandy.
Honey of kindness is what I usually am.
Glazed with a temper of redness and lust
With reckless catapults of whimsical feathered *****
In carefully-woven baskets
Bombarding blanks with loud bangs.
And an identity which took years to make,
I'm a bi-tempered soul of icy / lava flow.
Wanting, needing, consuming life...
Give me flattery and attention!
I was exempt from life's detention!
I was spoiled by the caring hearts of my DNA angels!
Rage first, I protest.
Regrets later, I detest.
I'm a clusterfuck of mixed intentions.
Real words don't spill much beyond fire lake.
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 7:08 PM UTC
white hands are magnetically attracted to my tresses
the way they bounce when i'm running to the bus stop
how it curls from the top to the bottom.
when i tell people what i am
they nod and say,
"no wonder you have that hair."
i wake up in the morning conscious of my existence
the whiteness of my father's father is not present in my skin
but it is there in the way i talk on the phone,
"ain't" and "finna" tucked neatly into the corners of my teeth.
when my boss sees me for the first time in person,
they will part their mouth slightly and say,
"you're so unique."
the latinos at school are lighter than me
their hair is straighter than mine
and their spanish is much more polished.
when they heard my first grammar mistake
they frowned and said,
"oh great, another ******* coconut."
i will die an oxymoron, a paradox
a cultural clusterfuck who doesn't know what a border is.
i will die undefined, unknown, as a variable in a math problem
written by the hands of a white man
who thought everything could be solved
if it was done his way.
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 11:36 AM UTC
i am a clusterfuck
of metaphors
i have a broomstick
in my eye
i am a young man
hey all you young girls
let's do what we do
i am a **** up
i grabbed the pan
that burned the biscuits
my flesh is searing
your tears are cool wet milk
Nov 7, 2011
Nov 7, 2011 at 9:04 PM UTC
que the incoherent ramblings of a slightly inebriated sadist
who's brain is plagued by the tongue of Satan
and there is no easy way to say this
but i have an opinion,
therefore
i am going to state it
and through my veins runs a most potent concoction of hatred
a sheer and utterly perplexing disdain for human nature
and anything else even remotely associated
i welcome death and darkness as if we were closely related
and my brain is my coffin,
there is no safe haven
but comrades, do not be mistaken
for i am god
and so are you
but in order to maintain a state of equilibrium,
sometimes i am very inclined to masquerade as the devil too
and i'll admit it,
im probably a little sick and very confused
but im also cynical, pessimistic and devoid of hope
and ironically,
im but a clusterfuck of atoms and isotopes
pondering the structure of atoms and isotopes
but then again, maybe i just need to cut back on the coke
and the acid, shrooms, dmt, ecstacy, and the obscence
amount of ******* cigarettes that i smoke
but within the deepest confines of my tormented soul
there is a hole
that i feel only the solace of a controlled substance can console
like, how the **** am i supposed to find contentment
in existence
when i know that every living creature on earth will inevitably
die
alone
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 5:49 PM UTC
my day -
a chaotic
downward spiral
angry, entitled faces
glare at me
expect me to juggle
thirteen flaming tennis *****
while running
full speed ahead
to their every
beck and call
like,
when your computer
gets a virus
and fifty-five million tabs pop up
careening out of control
giving no chance
to even close out of one -
a clusterfuck of stress
when I finally get
my ten-minute break
I sit outside -
alone -
can't deal with
one more ******* person
just let me
smoke my cigarette
calm my anxiety
***** my head back in
in solitude
before walking back
through the gates of hell
don't smoke those,
you're killing yourself.
no
*******
way
I
had
no
idea
do I know you?
you're certainly not family,
nor a friend
definitely not
someone who gives a ****
about my health
or well-being
what if I want
to **** myself?
what if that's
my goal?
who ARE you
to tell me what to do?
maybe,
you think your input
will resonate inside of me
*holy **** he's right*
put down the pack
for good
maybe,
you just want to feel
like you're a good person
boost your ego
thinking
you did something nice
helped
in one way
all you do
is make me want another
leave me the **** alone
a cigarette
is not an open invitation
to talk about my health
to comment on my life
****
off
I don't care what you say
your words
aren't important to me
just like I
am not important to you
mind your own
*******
business
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 9:51 PM UTC
we're friends right? no we are strained acquaintances we are yin yan
g with nine colors we are tv static on all night when you're too tired to
get up and turn it off we are doodles in the margins of a very importa
nt research paper you are lost in everyone forgetting that my middle
name is freedom i am putting on metaphorical makeup to mask my
emotional blemishes we are sour candy and ginger ale we are obscu
re genres of music shoegaze my ****** valentine we are a waterco
lor clusterfuck bleeding together like an amateur blood drive read b
etween the lines we are biodegradable plastic half covered in the soil
untouched for two years we are sunshine and chill bumps I hate you
for the same reasons I hate myself we are nostalgia and anxiety we a
re insomniacs who only want each other between the hours of 8 pm
and 6 am we are avoiding eye contact in the halls
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 10:39 PM UTC
Who are my characters? John Prat or Marvin Prat. John Ector or Marvin Ector. Then there is Mrs. Valdez and Autumn. Who are they in relation to John and Marvin? What do you want your characters to show? Who are they? Are they funny? Comical? Tragic? What? What do they want? I want them showing me. I want them as extensions of me. I want to take everything I have learned and put them into my characters. They are facets of my imagination combined into one giant ball, clusterfuck and **** of people that is my life. I want them to display my hatred. My disheveled hair. My looks. I want them to be oddly reminiscent of my family and my personal life. I want them to ignore their own feelings and not be happy. I want them to be happy. I want them to love and cry and weep and feel pain. I want the world to hate them and I want them to hate themselves, I want the world to love them and I want them to love themselves. I want them to fall from grace. I want them to fall down so many times and be on the verge of not picking themselves up. To say **** this I'm done with it all. I want them rejected and rejected and rejected and keep losing. I want them to win. I want them to destroy themselves. I want them to create themselves. I want them to create their own world filled with imagination. I want to **** them. I want them bleeding and bruised. I want them to end up homeless on the street with nowhere to go with needles sticking out of their veins. I want them to find god. I want them crawling through a river of **** and coming out clean on the other side. I want them to enjoy the little things and hate the little things. I want them to come to life. But ultimately I want them to make me cry. I want them to touch something inside of me that laid dormant for years. I want them to understand and feel my pain and empathize with me like no one has. I want myself in these pages. These sticky pages that combine to make a story.
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 12:40 PM UTC
think of something bad, a tragedy perhaps
breath in
savour the clusterfuck of air particles that youve insufflate
let them linger in the different threshold of your lung
inhale till you cant feel no more, the brittle feel of your ribcage collapsing & sinking itself into your blooded flesh
tear droplets will be discarded by your eyes soon after
expect a slight pain throughout your whole body
feel free to scream, laugh or even go on a rampage during this process
for those who are well versed in the ancient art of crying, they may experience symptoms such as the urge to puke, disorientation & other health issues
remember practice good breathing rythm in order to avoid suffocation & death
feel free to improvise along the way to ensure maximum enjoyment in this activity
if done right, you'll find that crying is addictive in a theraupetic fashion.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 3:41 AM UTC
We're two Halley's comets collided;
Awesome burst created our own universe,
Together across this great expanse we traverse;
Finally real after all that we've pretended,
Not just dreamers; we take action
Seize the moment; never caught in inaction,
God made the stars; but we make them shine,
We've hooked the bait line after line
And now after weathering the storm
We're always catching the worm,
We've been shunned;
We've been gunned-
Down by the jealous and the lost;
Who know not their purpose only can accost-
Us wanting to know where we're headed,
And to think once we fretted dreaded
Their accusing eyes,
But they live only lies
Wanting our secrets; envy our success
Always wonder how we excel under duress,
But they'll never know how we trump-
All their expectations; how no speed bump-
Can slow us down; nothing can hold us,
In a magnificent clusterfuck they all lay
Debris caught trailing our orbit; all ruckus,
We're headed warp speed dead ahead; come what may...
© okpoet
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
heLLo,
DeLusion,
DARLING
AgAin AdMIRING
LovelY LAdY LibERtY,
Flame Held High shIMMERING;
BOth BOok And EYES OPEN,
ON a pAth to the HORIZON,
ON this vAst glIMMERING OCEAN.
Left HER ON AN IsLANd fLOATIN,
While CLoSe to our bUST,
ThIS CLUSTerfuck jUSTICE;
Both wrapped in our SHEets,
IT iS SHE who corruptS US.
Book BlindfOLDed,
SCAles SwAYed,
CApITiliSIC enCASEment;
PAth PAVED wITH,
gOLD BrICks EMBLAZED wITH,
EMBLEMs rESEMBling
SLAVE SHIPS.
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 7:02 AM UTC
Christi Michaels MoonFlower May 2018
Monsters
°••°••°••°
°•°◇°•°
There are no
Monsters here...
this, the
abandoned
soft, fertile soil,
that was
to feed the
Family Gardens.
No evil creatures, lurking behind
these timid
hurting hearts.
a painful place...
this invasive, pervasive,
clusterfuck
of Us .
Here lay
The raw,
The ragged
mashed up
mis-understandings.
An onslaught
of hurts,
that float and fester
in our cauldron
of tears.
'Canvas of Colors'
tells Our story...
Melding together
The frozen and
unthawed moments of
all the
Precious
Forever
Embraces
There are no Monsters here
We are the tender
beings that continue
to breathe ragged
after the forest fire,
tripping through
Crumbling Ashes
turned wet black.
Dank and slippery.
Yearning to find
strong footing
amongst these
ruins of our
own doing
No evil creatures, lurking behind
these timid
hurting hearts
There are no Monsters here
Sep 28, 2019
Sep 28, 2019 at 7:37 AM UTC
Even though I should be paying full attention to
[insert whatever ******** priority is taking up your creative space here]
I must write this:
Things are slowly becoming less magical
My view is less romantic
I'm trying very hard to see it like I once did
But songs are becoming a blend of different frequencies
Writing is becoming a clusterfuck of sentences that may or may not be important
People are becoming an amalgamation of what they want to be -
A pastiche of everything they once dreamed they could be but slowly realized they are not
But my intuition is still right
Sometimes
Every now and again it reminds me that these little instinctual things
These nothings that pop into my head
Come from a higher place
Should this place be a part of my brain
I cannot access - so be it
But if it's a force of some sort
Pushing me further and further into this illusion
I think I would prefer that
It saves me from doing all the work
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 10:52 PM UTC
you are the sun peeking out from behind the most overcast of skies.
and maybe we're just a big mistake.
one big accident waiting to happen.
but i'm willing to find out.
because we're caught somewhere in this clusterfuck of life choices and misplaced responsibilities,
and it's easy to lose your way.
it's hard to keep your chin up, to keep your eyes on the horizon.
it's easy to lose yourself in the crossfire between
the clarity of honesty and haze of parked cars lit by streetlights,
between hushed confessions and questionable decisions.
but baby, i'd rather be lost with you than know my way alone.
you'll never know, dear, how much i love you.
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 12:34 AM UTC
I
want something. I w a n t
to see your smile, your skin. (To)
love is not simple, but Your beauty is.....fuck!
you make me crazy. All I want is you
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 2:31 PM UTC
also known as a lesson in anatomy 2:
this is my heart,
it is both a metaphorical
representation of an oversimplified
concept of a highly intricate
detail
and
a thick ball of senew
which throbs to pump
blood through my veins
distributing oxygen and nutrients
to the backwater parts of
the clusterfuck known as my body.
sometimes I like to take it out and
look at it,
turn it around in my hand for a bit
before pitting it back.
sometimes I can't remember how the
arteries fit
so I just jam them in there
and its a real mess.
the thing is molding a little on
one side and kind of wrinkly.
think of an orange that's been hiding under a cabinet for too long.
they say when I person burns to death
the last part of them to turn to ash
is the heart, since its
so tough, the thing takes forever,
just sitting there in the fire.
I don't think that's true.
I think its the first thing to burn.
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 2:37 PM UTC
Despond and frustration
I hate this combination
Can’t shake it off
Can’t leave the house
Can’t pinpoint my needs
Don’t even have **** to help
focus on anything but everything
as one big clusterfuck of irk
No one to convene
Only one in mind
Distractions I heed
with so limited time
Alone with greed
and a mighty need
to punish someone for
what’s wrong with me
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 6:38 PM UTC
you're sitting on your bed
lights off and
curtains closed and
the carpet illuminated through the cracks in the door
so it's night, but you're not tired, you're not,
you're thinking
daydreaming because your mind is in control
you hope, but its not doing what you want
and everything is falling apart
all frame-shifts and flickers of deleted data
and **** this*
because honestly
what's the point.
if it doesn't work then it doesn't work
and you can't fix this, we can't fix this
it's broken and it'll stay that way
don't you dare try and put this back together
you ******
don't you dare
because you put everything into this and i did nothing
i don't deserve you and
you don't deserve this
this shattering illusion of happiness
bright memories and lovely thoughts
because everything is just waiting for the metaphorical black cloud to appear
because everything is just a clusterfuck
of bad emotions
well
well, ****
this was supposed to go differently, i swear
not in a different direction, just...
just less harsh
see, look at that
i just **** up everything i do
see, this is why this is a problem
see, this is why you need to leave
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 1:00 AM UTC
Bound to adjust in a clusterfuck of lust
as i grow older my brain bends backwards sending the past and what i knew forward
farther than i remember sense memories are limited to their makers remarks.
I am left with a mantra of many, to be forwarded and returned upon what ive learned.
and if you ask me ill stay in my pose
asking that my posse surround and inclose
what is left of my lust
is for you to dream and impose
upon what i allow you to take and propose.
because i know you enough to know what you want
and what you want is simple enough.
The power
The fame
The money
The blame
I leave you with lust and memories to shame.
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 6:37 AM UTC
Why can’t we swear in academia?
Why can’t we swear in acedmia?
Tell me, WHY THE **** can’t we swear in academia,
why the EVER LOVING **** , can’t we swear in academia?
Say **** how we’d actually say **** Why the **** we gotta contort into this PISS-ASS RESPONSIBLE, PROPER, PROFESSIONAL, BUSINESS-CASUAL, ******* ASS-WIPING ******** LANGUAGE that no one can ******* relate to or get their head around? Academia GET YOUR RESPECTABILITY POLITICS OFF MY **** OUT OF MY FACE AND OFF MY **** and let me say ***** ****** UP!” when **** sure as **** IS ****** UP! Actually no, academia, **** OUTTA HERE WITH YOUR TONE POLICING CLUSTERFUCK, I’m not waiting for permission. I’m gunna start right the **** now. And don’t you dare tell me to shut up, **** **** **** SHITTY-FUCK, YOU BIG-BOYZ CLUB OF WHITE ***** ******** **** yourself.
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 8:45 PM UTC
insurmountable
undefatigable yet
sitting lost for words
my friend you are here
beaten broken and alone
your choice created this
your bloody pride made this
clusterfuck happen again
you need to hop down
off your tall pristine
pedestal of hurt hubris
and apologise till
your stupid tongue bleeds
then apoligise once more
and hope she listens
then spend the lifetime
making sure she knows you love her
more than that stupid.......
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 9:20 AM UTC