"complain" poems
don't feel sorry for me.
I am a competent,
satisfied human being.
be sorry for the others
who
fidget
complain
who
constantly
rearrange their
lives
like
furniture.
juggling mates
and
attitudes
their
confusion is
constant
and it will
touch
whoever they
deal with.
beware of them:
one of their
key words is
"love."
and beware those who
only take
instructions from their
God
for they have
failed completely to live their own
lives.
don't feel sorry for me
because I am alone
for even
at the most terrible
moments
humor
is my
companion.
I am a dog walking
backwards
I am a broken
banjo
I am a telephone wire
strung up in
Toledo, Ohio
I am a man
eating a meal
this night
in the month of
September.
put your sympathy
aside.
they say
water held up
Christ:
to come
through
you better be
nearly as
lucky.
137.2k
You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.
And I know that.
But I can't rediscover it every ******* day.
I can't return to that epiphany
every time my alarm clock goes off.
It's unnatural.
But what I can do, and do quite naturally,
is become jaded and unimpressed by it.
I can see your beauty as normal,
as one of my life's many constants.
I can climb atop its shoulders and travel about,
rolling my eyes at sunsets and rainbows,
dismissing all the beauty of the world as
less than average.
And I complain to you about it.
And you can deduce your beauty from that.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 11:19 AM UTC
A friend of mine walked up to me and asked me: "What is a good woman?"
I replied "you would know if you were a good man"
He said "Stop joking I really wanna know"
"There is no definite answer, but when you meet one, it will show"
There are many characteristics that make a good woman, but it would take days to speak them all
Since my friend brought this to mind, I thought I would list a few for y'all
A woman who is proud of what she brings
and won't complain over petty things
A woman who is well spoken and not opposed to listening
because communication is key from the beginning
A woman who is wise and able to realize
the pit you are in doesn't matter because she will help your rise
A woman who wouldn't try to control her man but also wouldn't be a doormat
And when trouble comes up, her feet won't be flat (she's ready to go)
A woman who never stops believing in the man that you are and the man you can become
So much confidence in you, it almost makes her seem dumb
A virtuous woman who prays for you more than she prays for herself
Remembering God is number one above all else
A woman who tries to pay for herself before you can offer
Knowing the difference between selfless and selfish is something you should prefer
A woman with the power of forgiveness
But don't abuse it
Because a good woman is not stupid
She will lose it
You will lose her and have no one to blame when your heart takes the hit
If you hurt a good woman, in my eyes, you aren't worth the saliva I spit
The ice cream no one would lick
The one that gets thrown down in hope ants would leave a picnic
To pick apart your existence
Use your common sense
Realize what's in front of you and cherish it
Woman is the title a female receives at a certain age
But it takes a good man to realize a good woman is on the next page
I'm not saying a good woman needs to have this quote for quote
I don't think any woman does, if so, let me know
I haven't met any besides my family, but I don't go down that road
I'm being patient, waiting for my good woman is giving me time to grow
So I can give her the best Brandon Everett Davis, the world doesn't know
To not be on their level, would be a sin
Let's become better men for these good women
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 3:37 AM UTC
Words are harmless, so they say,
That's where the problem starts;
Sticks and stones
May break our bones
But words will break our hearts.
Words are harmless, so they say,
And point you to their charts;
It's harmless fun,
No damage done.
But... Who will mend our hearts?
The x-rays show no damage
Where words have scathed across,
But it still feels hard to manage,
And leaves you at a loss.
Words are harmless, don't complain,
That's where the problem starts.
It's quite absurd-
A single word-
Enough to break our hearts!
But words are harmless, they maintain;
The subject of their parts,
No less or more,
So let them pour
From all our broken hearts
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 4:36 PM UTC
You were born near the warm ocean,
grew up around there,
With your clear acrylic smile
and sun-kissed blonde hair
I, the winter cold
More north than I can remember,
We met that day you visited,
a brisk chill, that December
We drank and danced,
while the years passed over
Argued and grew apart,
our greatest fears, now sober
My memories of you, once treasured
Now, faded
as sun deprived lands complain,
Forever, jaded
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 2:04 PM UTC
''
Sand and stones between my bones.
Today the sun never shone.
Look how beautiful I am.
Chop, chop, chopped wood in the fireplace.
Don't get too close if you want to keep your face.
Be careful not to burn yourself.
It gives a certain warmth
And brings a certain want.
I would, yet I can't enjoy it by myself.
Royal blue like the winter hue.
My skin is merely bruised.
Can you still see how many times I've been hurt?
That winter depression.
Makes me want you as my new obsession.
Come in even if it's colder than outside.
Melt, melt me, I'm a letdown.
Having a meltdown.
I am melting under your fiery touch.
Snow flakes the skin.
I am in for a win.
What a special snowflake I am, wouldn't you say?
My heart is surrounded by splinters,
It shouldn't, yet it get's me through the winter.
Between my arms it's chiller, why don't you come hither?
Take a bite of me with your ice chipped teeth.
Swallow me up like a leech.
Red blood gauges from my blue veins.
Guess I'm not that royal anyway.
Hide it before you can complain.
-
Too late.
You already know the taste.
"
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 2:23 PM UTC
I had no idea how terrible it all was
Until I matured a bit and opened my eyes
It cleared the mist that I often now miss
From the eyes of an unwilling devil
Seeing the tragedy unfold from a first-person level
I remember it all from that god awful view
The bad things I’ve done, over which I had no control
The outcomes I hoped with the manifestation of some
Who am I kidding - I’ve been among a fortunate few
Except for the fact that life dealt me an ace with a ****** *****
Not quite like anyone - an outcasted sole
With depressive thoughts - eating them straight from the bowl
Until euphoria strikes - then I’m a lightning bolt
These emotional storms - they strike me as cold
Who am I to cry and complain about life
Everyone is united by the suffering light
The random subscription to a life with a set rhythm
If only I could command my heart not to wither
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 3:48 AM UTC
I know they're not
accurate.
The fact I frequent
creative results
may be
more or less
coincidental.
After all
who am I
compared to
Jon Stewart
or a Greek
philosopher?
But maybe
I don't care.
Maybe I take them
just for fun.
And who can complain
when they are compared
to Charizard
and Winnie the Pooh?
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 10:30 AM UTC
I think I loved you most the winter your heating was broken
And we’d stay inside all morning
Pretending to complain that we couldn’t get out of bed
Our clothes becoming little islands on the floor,
Ones that we could not quite find the courage to visit
Your hand stayed glued to my hip,
Your breath warming my shoulder
Like a long drag of whiskey
That kind that had a home so far away,
In a glass bottle on top of your refrigerator.
The one that would not be opened
Until that fateful day in February,
When everything went wrong
And on that unbearable night
When you joked that you’d freeze to death if I left you
There was a long silence
Like it might be true.
Now it’s warm enough
That I show too much skin when sitting in bars
And you avoid me like the plague,
Whispering in any girl’s ear that’s near to you
Every time you see me watching out of the corner of your eye
We should have stayed inside when the ice began to melt
Because I think
When those doors opened and we finally ventured outside
The world had changed,
And so had you and I.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 4:40 PM UTC
On the stiff twig up there
Hunches a wet black rook
Arranging and rearranging its feathers in the rain.
I do not expect a miracle
Or an accident
To set the sight on fire
In my eye, nor seek
Any more in the desultory weather some design,
But let spotted leaves fall as they fall,
Without ceremony, or portent.
Although, I admit, I desire,
Occasionally, some backtalk
From the mute sky, I can't honestly complain:
A certain minor light may still
Lean incandescent
Out of kitchen table or chair
As if a celestial burning took
Possession of the most obtuse objects now and then --
Thus hallowing an interval
Otherwise inconsequent
By bestowing largesse, honor,
One might say love. At any rate, I now walk
Wary (for it could happen
Even in this dull, ruinous landscape); skeptical,
Yet politic; ignorant
Of whatever angel may choose to flare
Suddenly at my elbow. I only know that a rook
Ordering its black feathers can so shine
As to seize my senses, haul
My eyelids up, and grant
A brief respite from fear
Of total neutrality. With luck,
Trekking stubborn through this season
Of fatigue, I shall
Patch together a content
Of sorts. Miracles occur,
If you care to call those spasmodic
Tricks of radiance miracles. The wait's begun again,
The long wait for the angel,
For that rare, random descent.
18k
Getting ready to play a video game
in a nice, not-actually-dusty-but-
has-the-comfort-of-dustiness-like
Bookstore.
Maybe.
"Townhall free wifi."
That's just great. I mostly
just cry and complain and wonder
why dolphins are so optimistic as
to not just off themselves,
since they can consciously do so.
Free wifi though.
I mean, that's just cool.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 5:33 PM UTC
Spending a month in a hospital teaches you a lot about people.
The doctor that told me to shave my head or she wouldn't treat me,
The nurses that spent forever chatting to me
And giving me supportive advice about how my illness doesn't define me.
The woman who was given a terminal cancer sentence
And chose not to pay attention to it and defied it anyway.
How she sat next to me on my bed,
Told me that all suffering is valid,
And just because I'm not dying, doesn't mean I don't get to complain.
How she complains more about her skin problems
Than she ever complained about her cancer,
And that's OK, because pain rarely follows rules.
I never even learned her name,
But she gave me the words I hold most closely to me
On those days when I want to fall asleep and never wake up.
I'm allowed to scream and shout and rage against the pain
And the unfairness of it happening to me.
I just have to make sure I know where the line is
Between giving my darkness a voice and pitying myself.
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 12:01 PM UTC
i’ve never had feelings for anyone who could be good for me. i’ve never been interested in someone where a good, healthy relationship could’ve resulted, and maybe that’s why i’m so jaded, because everyone i’ve ever liked has just been a distraction or a house on fire— someone i know i shouldn’t be involved with, but i’ll give myself just a few more days to run around frantically with my hands over my eyes, peaking through the cracks between my fingers, searching for things i know i don’t really need, and then i’ll dash out and run down the driveway and the smog will linger for a little while, and the neighbors will complain, and i’ll sit on the curb with my forehead on my knees, holding nothing but intangible regret. next, i’ll either get over it, or obsessively think about him and the ashes smudged on the inside of my eyelids for longer than my sanity. i’ve never really liked someone and been able to daydream about the real possibility of us turning into something greater; of tire swings and painted mailboxes and overgrown, green lawns. it’s always been pretending and fake hope and melodramatic doom. i think it’s messed up my perception of having feelings for someone, because i can never take it seriously— either i know he’s not right for me, or i know the circumstances prohibit the possibility of us. it makes me never want to give anyone a chance (i can’t even see anyone worth chance-giving) because i know how it ends. i don’t like having this closed off heart so early on; i’m too young to be this bitter.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 10:10 PM UTC
Published in The Quill on November 19, 2014:
http://www.amazon.com/Quill-Fall-2014-ebook/dp/B00PNVT6PG
...
On being overweight (whatever that means)
Even if you were the moon, they would complain about how much space you took up in the sky, how you were too bright, wanted too much from the stars, demanded more light than the others.
And when you shifted, from waning to full to waxing to waning, they would remind you of how instable you were, how much of a hassle it was to keep track of your instability, your need for attention. Have you tried to be a vegan yet? All the stars are doing it.
You have tried. In fact, last week was your third try – an attempt, they call it – not enough, they emphasize, try again, they say this as if it is encouragement.
That’s when you found them - the celestial crescent, the earthshine, the perilune, how the lacus are lakes without lakes, why the Gibbous is brighter either way, especially during conjunction – all strung together in pearls.
You are a full the night you return.
As you reflect off the lake, you see Selene, Hecate, Mani, Tsukuyomi, Iah, and Thoth. You tell the stars to look, to breathe your reflection, to succumb to the glow and the beauty of it all, that you are not alone—
They laugh.
Say how historical that is, how out-of-touch you are, how myths aren’t mirrors, how you - you are not a mystery at all.
But when you died – if you died – (we still do not know) - they do not wonder where you went. They spin, spin, spin the entire night home, only once confessing to how empty the sky is without your shine.
But every night they burn.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
This world is divided
By boundaries
Of love,
Of hate,
Of differences
Due to this,
People suffer, with pain
And laugh, with joy
But most just complain
Yet, when looked at closely,
One will notice,
The brush marks left,
By who created the circles;
The one we call society
Brothers have turned on brother,
Neighbour on neighbour,
Child on child,
Because of this word:
Different.
Black or brown,
White or asian,
All are divided
With words of segregation
But really,
Arent we all the same?
Human is our name
And humanity should be our game
Yet, no,
The world goes on to display
And point out the flaws in one another
Because of this word:
Different.
In the end,
This world is divided,
By no one else,
But ourselves.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 9:58 PM UTC
I know you want me to shut the **** up
Cut me off and not have a opinion
I try to stop myself from being
My vocal self my very essence
Grab some some tape and have some fun
Wrap it around my so called tongue
That will give you some peace of mind
At least for a minute while you unwind
I’ll spare you my rants and my thoughts
How silly of me to think so much
Why speak up I only complain
Nothing I say has any weight
Smile pretty and behave like the rest
Look good be quiet and don’t protest
All is well as long as you
Do as I say and don’t be brave
Clean do dishes and act like you’re fine
Ignore those voices that tell you otherwise
You are the thing that I contain
Into this box this square this frame
It’s all I know and what I expect
A learning curve and I suggest
Get use to being treated this way
Feel lucky feel privileged And don’t walk away
I hold this over you I confess
But what can you do except, accept?
This is the way that things are done
Don’t make waves or trouble my dear
Just go along with what you hear
If I keep you silent everybody wins
And that is what keeps me, me and you with them
If I hold you down then I succeed
Which benefits us all as you will see
What’s good for me is good for me
And why I want you to smile pretty
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 2:58 AM UTC
Our old uncle, Daedalus,
he'd grin when he spoke to us
His mouth was missing teeth
and so his wisdom flowed out free
He always smelled of cheap cigars
alleyways and corner bars
He'd tell us he had seen the world
and this was his decree:
"Don't fly too high, you little *****
You just might live to pay for it.
The Sun is always hot,
the ground gets harder every day."
"But, Daedalus," we would complain,
"You are old and we would fain
see the sights you saw before
we sleep beneath the clay."
And dear old Uncle Daedalus
he'd laugh and spit and swear at us
"You ******* little ***** had better
heed the tale I tell.
This life is one big ******* maze
with twists and turns and tricks to play.
The kings control the monsters,
who make Earth a living Hell."
We'd try to listen, try to thank
him for the words, but his breath stank
and, anyway, we thought that he
had prob'ly **** himself
But dear old Uncle Daedalus
hung Death from lips that spoke to us
and ****** if he weren't right
about the things he always said:
"Inventiveness works, by and by
with daring, you may taunt the sky
like I did
but the fall is long--
my dreams and son are dead."
He always smelled of cheap cigars
alleyways and corner bars
"You ******* little ***** had better
heed the tale I tell..."
"Don't fly too high, you little *****
You just might live to pay for it.
The kings control the monsters,
who make Earth a living Hell."
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC
High and *****
Don't ask for much
High and *****
Is what it is
High and *****
Likes to complain
High and *****
Gets way too excited
High and *****
Writes and beats
High and *****
Is more often than not
Sad and lonely
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 7:57 PM UTC
I didn't have a sweet sixteen.
I didn't have a sweet anything.
But I didn't complain,
I had no right to.
I was a bad girl,
And besides,
Sixteens not all that sweet anyways.
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
I hear of your struggles
In every way
You tell me of them
Over and over and over
And I feel mixed
Twisted
On one side honored
You trust me enough to tell me
But on the other side worried
For how this consumes you
I found you in the midst of Dark
Shining as the brightest Light
Undeterred by the greatest of evils
And I was forever in awe
As a moth to its light
But instead of finding my solace in your warmth
You dimmed
Once withstanding anything thrown at you,
But instead finding darkness to come
From a place least expected:
From those closest
And the Dark took you
Elated in its clever nature
Now you complain
Over matters you would have brushed aside
I can see this aura around you
While once filled with the greatest Light,
Now lies tinged with specks of black
And I can see it consuming you
Perhaps I was naïve
Searching for something different in our world
A source of Light
Rather than a consumer of it
I’m glad I was able to witness your brilliance
As it taught me many things
No matter how brilliant your light,
The greatest Light
Only shows in times of the greatest darkness
Beaming into the Dark
A hopeless task
Yet filled with the greatest Hope of all
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 2:49 PM UTC
i am your pet, cherished, you bet
from the very first moment, we met
you are my master, tried and true
my job in life is to always, please you
i wander aimlessly alone
when you're gone, so long, on your own
forgive me, if i chew your shoe
i was nervous and i missed you
if i snack some food from the trash
it smelled so good, how could i pass
bark, bark, bark, i cry out alarm
the mailman has come here to harm
when you get home, i'm so happy
wagging my tail with my whole body
when we go for a walk together
if a cat threatens, away i chase her
don't be upset with me, please sir
i promise to protect you from all danger
i greet other dogs, on our way
smelling their butts to just say, hey
i lift my leg marking my place
to find my way back, just in case
i'm not too crazy about the rain
but i'll keep you company and not complain
laying belly up is a sign
scratch me, rub me and i'll be fine
if I lick my area, because i can
please don't be jealous of me, man
sleeping here, my chin on your foot
obediently, my faith in you, i put
though my purpose, i may reach in a flash
compared to your life, my longevity won't last
my loyalty to you, will never sever
unconditionally, i love you, forever
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 3:36 PM UTC
I'm a Barbie Girl,
in a Barbie World.
Life's fantastic: I
feel like plastic,
aiming for an eighteen-inch waist because I can afford to throw my internal organs away.
I feel like plastic,
having to choose
between eating and breathing with not enough space for two tubes.
I feel like plastic,
a thirty-nine inch bust and three times the forehead.
I feel like plastic,
a size nine squeezed to a three, spending
three to nine avoiding mealtime because my weight loss book says
'Don't eat.'
I'm a Barbie Girl,
in a Barbie World.
Life's fantastic, but...
I'm not plastic.
I've sat here listening while you complain about society but I don't think you realize that
society is made by you.
You complain about masks but you're masked by your poetry and
trust me,
it's trendy:
Psychiatry.
A bottle of capsules captures your soul and your dreams,
fading
reality.
I cannot be defined because a definition leaves no room for change and I
am a flame,
ready to burn the cardboard box of priority you put over me.
All the cool kids are lesbians and thespians on about repressions
and I care,
I do,
I mean... I'm standing here among you.
But words are just air.
You can stand on this stage and tell me I'm beautiful, but
I am more than my face so
disregard my mild distaste for your
inspirational speech.
Now, this...
This isn't a call for help.
This is a call to arms.
This
is a battle cry because
I
am sick of waiting for a future that should've happened yesterday.
So use this air to live the words you say and
rally.
Do not soothe, because we've already been cocooned by soothed reality in
Shawnee,
Johnson County.
I'm a real girl,
in a real world.
Life's fantastic, and I
refuse to be plastic,
aiming for generic weight range based on content, not scale number.
I refuse to be plastic,
a neck moulded perfectly for both eating and breathing so I don't have to choose.
I refuse to be plastic,
a bust that you don't need to be sizing
when I've got eyes
a green not of romanticized meadows but of drunken
puke.
I refuse to be plastic,
a size nine foot in a size nine shoe,
spending three to nine
enjoying my meal times,
because my weight loss book is
chucked down the chute.
I'm a living girl
in a beautiful world.
Life's fantastic,
because I'm not plastic.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
The greatest gift you can give someone
is your time because when you give
your time you are giving a portion of
your life that you will never get back
and time is more valuable than money
because you can always get more
money but you cannot get more time.
Time has a wonderful way of showing
us what really matters because good
things take time so live every moment,
love beyond words and laugh every
day and don't let your struggle become
your identity because nobody can go
back and start a new beginning but
anybody can start today and make a
new ending.
Age is not a guarantee of maturity and
sometimes your heart needs more time
to accept what your mind already
knows so know that any time you enjoy
wasting is not wasted time because good
things take time and if you have time to
whine and complain about something
then you have the time to do something
about it.
Hard times will always reveal true friends
just as time discovers truth and time is not
free but it is priceless and you can't own it
but you can use it and you can't keep it but
you can spend it but once you have lost it,
it is gone forever.
Jon York 2016
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 8:35 PM UTC
I use technology to take me to a time when it only half-existed. In a blue-shell room of mega-pixel photographs and rolling news feeds, I can put on my headphones and disappear into an instrumental Sunday.
There are stamp collectors making their lazy way over beaten roads and disused railways. 'Surrender' only means to fall asleep and to leave your book as a hut on your bedside table. Where war may still go on and on,
but at least you don't have to hear about it. Show me the place where pine-cones fall and women stare across the river. Where coffee is for taste, and not self-medication. I want to walk bare-foot and feel thorns
toughen my heels, infect my blood with Earth or God or Any Other Name. We will **** in the bushes, singing those fragments of Leonard Cohen lyrics that we can still remember from times spent smoking in my room.
I can almost feel that pointless happiness. That location in a canopy to retreat when the bills are due, when the walls needs re-painting. When the neighbour strangles puppies and all you do is complain about the time.
I use new music set to old sounds: freed slaves living in the cross-hairs of tradition. White lovers breaking their hearts over guitar strings and harmonies, always a semi-tone apart. I find your hair on my pillow.
There is no technology in the world to distract me from that.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
Part of me hopes you'll find my poetry.
You'll know just who it's about.
Then you can see me,
Beautifully telling everyone else the story:
Of how ****** up you are.
It's fine right?
Because it's not so direct,
You can never complain about me.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 12:28 PM UTC