"compresses" poems
.
Quiet! Shhh!
Can you hear it?
The animals are talking.
No, they are panicking.
Can you smell it?
The Forest is on fire.
My Forest is aflame!
I run, following nostrils singed with heat,
against the tide of the fleeing fauna.
Reaching the blaze I see....
eight of them.
My anger rises and erupts.
'STOP!' I bellow. They turn and draw swords.
My eyes narrow and a look of pure disdain unfolds.
I continue.
'I am Rook, Lord of the Forest Kingdom.
How dare you, enter my domain with no permission
and reek havoc on my Forest'.
A step is taken, toward me.
The eyes of a fighter glower, at me.
The point of a sword raises, threatening me.
I punish.
'For your transgressions and your destruction
you shall stand as stones, for eternity,
and as a warning to others'.
A scream pierces the air as a foot,
then another, compresses to rock.
The rest join the chorus, agony,
as each become statues,
twisted and contorted as
the Ancient Oaks they had destroyed.
My Oaks.
This is my Anger.
Would you care to see my Love?
© Pagan Paul (2018)
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 9:40 AM UTC
*theres so much similarity
between when we cry
to when we ****
no emotion
when i shove my hand down your pants
and yours in my hair
just pleasure
*but its the thought
the remembering*
of a first kiss
first hit
a hold on my neck
teeth to yours
a first date
a blushing glance
your hands down my pants
i kiss at your jaw
a sunrise together
an i love you or two
you throw your head back
i dive in
it brings tears to my eyes
my body compresses
*maybe because
when we ****
i feel more pleasure
than i ever have in my whole life
id rather cry after *******
than think about it after feeling.*
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC
The scent of death
lingers for years
in a place
lodges in the soil
rots
and slowly compresses
composting down
deep down
in dirt
earth turns
seasons pass
time and space and silence
until the coiling roots
draw back again
and all that grows
from baby's tears
to blood red poppies
oaks and elms
bear testimony
to the forgotten
dead.
© M.L.Emmett
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 8:19 AM UTC
i was diagnosed with clinical depression, and by clinical depression i mean that the weight of a ten-story building compresses my chest at all hours and my eyelids function like a broken door; i spend all day waiting until i can crawl back into bed and escape the world
the other day i got a D on a test and i cried because i'm not good enough not good enough not good enough
depression is when your lungs are not big enough and your head is not smart enough and you can't breathe can't breathe and can't sort things out
i do not belong here
i do not belong here
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
To exhale
Compresses the chest
And in its place
Some chilblains,
Disgust for its being,
An annihilation
A ferocious hunger for itself,
Like the ouroboros
In every breath
Tempted by a life
For the moment gone.
To inhale
Invites it back,
A dispassionate process, no less.
The life thus stolen away
Impotent to the next breath
That I must exhale.
On this breath there comes a fear
A longing or
The urge
To lift my hands to my throat
And keep the life in my lungs
To quit exhaling
And never feel that way again.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 4:14 PM UTC
A score ago I was born anew
Bright and untarnished
Tightly wound and certain.
Well family tries
And some settle to half-achieved dreams,
Fulfilled and furbished
While others are lost –
Unfurled in guilty pleasures
And tangled in thoughts of better things.
I need to be released
From this wood-walled prison
Of black walnut and self-inflicted doubt
Which haunts like closed doors
And compresses with relentless pressure.
I am a spool unraveled
In an antique Singer machine drawer
Long forgotten and unkempt –
Built to hold but prone to breaking.
Silver tweed-threaded silk
Faded gray through a pigeon hole
And lost amongst my brothers.
I long to recoil in sweet harmony
Of crimson and gold memories,
Where happiness flits
Like a cardinal on cedar in winter
Bright and striking and secure
Confident in an unruly storm –
Warm and rich against the cold.
Well my Soul came back to me
In the gentle tap-tap keys
Of a 1958 Royal Standard,
Smooth-dipped and powder-blue-painted
With an olive case worn at the edges
From being touched by the fingertips
Of pained poets and weary travelers.
There’s a beauty in the black noir made colorful
By resplendent dreams and truth made real
And the principle of gentle permanence
And not-so-fragile finality
Of flaws made perfect by being
Simply and utterly themselves.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
We're taught to love straight lines.
It's this thought I wrestle with
as the road I choose turns and winds,
it's the 25-mile-per-hour speed limit kind,
it's so slow, so ****** slow and most
folks resent the view and miss the show.
Air compresses stronger than steel
at the sight of this mirror I reel
trying to find straight lines where none exist
trying to find the steps I missed.
Movement forms a breeze
of leave, and I drive.
Feb 23, 2011
Feb 23, 2011 at 9:33 PM UTC
This ship is sinking.
Your sea, violent.
Lightning flashes through my mind.
There are so many words I have for you.
They try to make their way past my lips, but they are krill trapped in a baleen maw.
Instead they take a pill, fall asleep inside my head.
These watery words rise above me.
They travel down my throat and into my lungs.
I thought I took enough air before I went under.
How wrong I was.
Calm.Quiet.Ocean.
Deafening.
I'm wriggling now.
My eyes frantically searching.
The abyss stares back.
There’s a weight in my chest.
Blue.Green.Silver.
An anchor pins me to your ocean floor.
Waves have swallowed me whole.
Jetsam tumbling through like driftwood on high seas.
I set my eyes on two green jewels glittering bewitchingly.
I'm locked on them.
Two lighthouses guiding me through this storm.
I should swim away from them.
Instead they draw me near, beckoning to me.
I dive down.
I am under their thrall.
I swim hard, I swim fast.
My chest compresses.
I’m out of breath.
My body thrashes and then surrenders.
I never had a chance.
Tiny bubbles make their way upward like small galaxies holding the last of me.
Feb 12, 2025
Feb 12, 2025 at 2:39 PM UTC
my legs
scrape together.
like the ears of an elephant
they slap against each other
against the cool vinyl seat
they have chained me into
with a medical observance.
i squirm for comfort
for completion
for complacency
but all i feel is the rustle of fabric.
the woman stares,
her eyes caring
but cold
unblinking
mirroring a skeleton back at me.
the doctor
(what number, i cannot remember;
there have been many
nameless faceless coats
trying to help)
the doctor looks deep
deep down
his eyes clocks
sundials
scoreboards
ticking away
the hours
the ninety-three pounds
i have left on this earth.
the air compresses.
a whale in a bottle,
i rip the chain into squares
and run
run
run down the street.
i am fine.
i am invincible.
a crack
trips me up.
the world seethes red.
a stranger's hand rights me.
His eyes are kind.
and for the umpteenth time,
someone asks me.
and for the umpteenth time,
i feel my mouth
shaping the word
so empty and sterile
habitually.
"not--"
but then
i stop.
and words come up
like my offering
after meals:
forced
necessary
raw
apologetic,
just
needing to
come out.
Dec 22, 2009
Dec 22, 2009 at 6:22 PM UTC
I have seen a light today
In a tunnel of darkness that was crushing me
Standing over my dead body
Holding me down with its foot
That shook while I convulsed upon the ground
I threw it off today
I got up and I pushed the weight away
I watched all my storms pass
No, not pass, but fall to the floor
Because today, I'm not only standing up,
I'm standing above,
Looking down at those clouds
So low, so dark, while I'm high in the sky
Because every thing will be alright
Because today I've seen a light
Today I saw a face that I have seen so many times before
Someone I could push past or ignore
In the hallways just another person to block the path
I thought I should be walking
When all I wanted to do was make it to the next class
A busy drone in a cycle that ran one way only,
Inside out, wash cold
And hung out to dry
Because there was no reason to testify
There was no inspiration to throw my head back
And let the truth fly out from my mouth
But I have seen a face today
That told me I will be okay
That things will fall in line if I
Can find it in myself to rise above the petty little things
That mean to leave me adrift in a sea of brokenness
With no one to fix my wings
I have caught the wind today and I'm prepared to fly
To raise my voice and my head high and scream
Hello to all you broken and all you hurting and all you sitting in the corner of a metal bathroom stall
Sandwiched between a rock and a hard place because you live in a silence
A silence that holds you down, compresses your chest
Like an opponent in the flesh that has beaten you down
And there's a foot between you heart and you don't know when you'll get the next breath of menthol in your lungs to make you want to sing to the sky,
God am I ever going to be alright
But you get up
And you take that breath
And you shake that bitterness out of your mind, the foot is pushed off your chest
You can breathe and scream and be
All that you were ever meant to be
Because **** have I become myself today
Today truly I am free
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
that boy sitting next to her
with a slender, birdbone frame power
in his Franken-lightning hair, a hungry
edge to his jaw, who stumbles over Bishop
but compresses our breath with his words
undoes me in muted, fraying ways
the cuffs of my favorite sweater
slowly unraveling under years of continuous wear
his smile is clever and **** with drama
kept in the dark alley corner of his mouth,
strong coffee and bruises without origin
I didn't want to know how
under the soft tissue of my liver and spine
there are words that might taste
like a fire escape in Brooklyn
a night on a stranger’s couch
and how compulsory punctuation might be
only an afterthought to others
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
Remember that time
when I was
on a first date with that guy.
I brought him to your place
and we sat
at the edge of the pool
while you laughed at the
german-exchange student
swimming laps.
And I jumped in with all of my clothes on
and he wasn’t sure whether to laugh
or not,
because of the way I floated
but he didn’t know that it was
something I always did
He texted me later saying
he wished he kissed me
but I didn’t check
until morning
because we were singing loud
and the neighbors were yelling
We lived outside of Richmond
but didn’t like to think of it that way
like it was separate
but the way we put up fences
like rows of wooden teeth
isolated us within
The patches on the
Huguenot Bridge, the old one
made your car bounce
and the radio went
in and out
Remember that time
when we would only smoke
marlboro’s?
That guy’s car
was a stick
so it didn’t move the
same way yours did
and he accidentally turned
down that one way street
on our way to meet you
at that show
But I don’t even remember
going in
because of something
like the doors were closed
but the sound was ****** so
we walked around the corner
to that place we like to go
and sit on the pillows on the floor
At home I sat on the third floor
alone, and the lack of laughter
is louder somehow
And the shadows stretch
further as the night gets
longer and draws
out the little pieces...
Let’s stay sane
so we drive downtown
and see three guys
long boarding
down broad street at midnight
they’re in that band that’s pretty good
so we yell out the window
and break into a long laugh.
Sadness is like salt
that pool was like the
dead sea
it helps you float
because no one
wants to sink to such
abundant misery
And joy
it was there too
riding in cars with you and
that guy who loved me like a fool
The two ideas of pain and joy lingered over me
like opposing magnets
but the water must have been cold
because I was numb
But when gravity pulls from two sides
it compresses
The Earth breaks and makes a mountain;
I broke and sank to the fiberglass bottom
of your ***** suburban pool.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
a lifelong pursuit
to be free
enough
for expanded
awareness
in the place
we now stand..
this seems our
foremost quest..
attachment grows
surreptitiously
as a virus ensnares
covers and compresses
until we cry out..
if stillness is gained
a tall stranger
centered nearby
unnoticed until now
watches our torment..
watching
is found quite
enough
to loosen the bonds..
new awareness locates
that fullness
we are intended
to find...
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 8:24 PM UTC
He is everything they want him to be
He is a boy made of play dough
He acts as though he knows who he is
But they mold him
With their sad hands that want something to hold onto
He is only half
Bones are dense but organs are hollow
He needs someone to fill him up
Where the arrow falls and is picked up again
That's where he finds his next home
His love is never forever
but nothing can be
Maps nor closely watched compasses can lead one to him
He will be strong one day
When he finds his own mold
The one that allows him to enter into the paradox of time and space
To be strung like a bead on a wrist
To sparkle like a star in the night
To be what he wants to be
No longer breaking ties with the ones he loves
But thanking everyone for their contribution
The permanence cannot be
He knows it
He just swells and compresses too often
He cannot crack or they will know he is breakable
But he is mystery in his conspicuous way of teasing
He is self proclaimed intense
He is going to find something, anything
He is my friend
He is parallel with me
He is mouldable
He is human
He is
a masterpiece
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 12:47 AM UTC
Geek was fairly bad, yeah,
but if you really were one,
you maybe didn't know it.
Yeah, your time space mind
compresses to my mindtimespace
you
think up from nothing,
space is not the first thing you think.
Jan 25, 2023
Jan 25, 2023 at 2:55 AM UTC
There's a key
a mystery in the sea
the one place
it's available for me
The waves are shallow
So barren and dead
The weight of it all
compresses my head
I can't see
my eyes turn me to jelly
I can't hear
the silence is strangely calm
the key can help now
and unlock my mind
I can breathe again
the key saves my life
Mind yourself
conceive what to say and do
have manners
Now, the key is inside you
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 3:37 PM UTC
Your strong belief in nature,
Is too detrimental for my taste.
The deep feelings you have,
Compresses and destroys nature.
The eerie emotions you have pertaining to the outdoors,
Helpless and closed shut is nature.
You make every day life unbearable,
With expressing your opinion about nature.
People become humble and lifeless,
For you are sadly not compatible with nature.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC
my mind will finally be hollow when explosive entities of its existential warfare finally self destruct.
until then,
Recondite rifles are ruthlessly reloaded with unanswerable questions regarding the purpose of seemingly non purposeful things;
lack of resolve wrecks me.
Unanswered ammunition degrades cerebral cells, intercepting normal neural connections:
I cannot think properly in the midst of pellets of panic
until then,
Selfless soldiers employed by future uncertainty battle against selfish soldiers of MY physical being, employed by my diminishing desire for sanity.
They engage in trench warfare: digging desolate ditches, hammering holes, all of which eventually collapse and contribute to the constant compression of my cortex.
But Compliments and Hope fracture into particles of sand that are ****** into the openings in my pupils by amorphous wind which is structureless anyway
these particles are vacuumed down my optic nerves and pile into pillars of petrifying plant-based picket fences that try to guard against the existential warfare plaguing my mind
But more explosive entities enter through my ears and reproduce in my temples waiting to self destruct
until then,
Forces convolute: existential warfare compresses my cortex into inevitable flat nothingness, while pitiful pillars of disillusioning dust collapse because the wind that whisked them inside NEVER EXISTED ANYWAY
Eventually i will implode
Until then,
numbness gnaws at my heart to balance the bullets
waiting to implode
until then,
Existential Warfare bombards my brain with bullets of black metal
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 4:55 PM UTC
that sad sounded lady
with open mouth
espys the edge of gloom,
like a whales calling
the tide compresses
as an unvaliant chain,
the machination of cause
will not whisper sweet serande
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 6:24 PM UTC
Imagine
blonde ponytail swinging from brunette root
angled in a straight line with her jaw bone
Pouted lips
and manicured eyelashes
layered in dark,
heavy fabrics
to counter her fair skin
and tall golden brown boots
Her hands are heavy
sharp.
Her eyes are tired
her jaw compresses.
Up and down
chewing on gum
she has a few red scars
scattered on her cheeks
like freckles
She's curved
not necessarily slouched
but more like
it's the only way to fit all of her into her chair
her legs are crossed
her earrings dangle
as if in mid-air
She's thinking,
constantly
thinking
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 9:32 PM UTC
How would it feel
if
I confessed to you
that
I starve myself?
Would you feel threatened
if I said I did it for you?
Or would you feel the
slightest bit trapped?
What if I had an
innocent excuse?
That the only reason why
I prefer to diet
until my stomach
compresses,
and flattens out
every single
abhorrent pound of
flesh that
rots with
self-hatred,
that the meaning underneath
me
starving
until my ribs are kicking to
break through my skin,
is simply to
strip off the barrier between
you and
my skeleton.
skin thinning until
transparency,
conspicuously unmasking to you
how every raw bone of mine,
the ones that bend
in every motion
that you admire (or lust)
for,
really feel you from within.
Look closely and see
how my blood is thicker
than my skin itself,
with dense,
powerfully amorous chemicals
that you injected in me,
running through its stream.
let me starve.
I'll be keeping my
appetite,
sustaining the hunger
for your pleasantly
possessing
presence.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 2:16 PM UTC
"Memories are stored in our body and tissues"
If this is true, then
Your scent clings like tar in my lungs,
Your touch is the goosebumps on my arms,
Your hugs, the aching in my ribs,
And your kisses, the scratches on my lips,
Imagined, unreal, unfeasible
But my longing for you has overtaken my body
Everything hurts, I swear
My knees pop,
My spine compresses,
And my head grows heavy,
My eyes falling shut, almost sewn
My battered corpse yearns for you
But soon I'll be gone with the wind
me.gs
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 9:16 PM UTC