"concious" poems
Everything with us seems perfectly entwined,
Like Lego locking together,
It just fits like we should know but don't,
Is this another life lesson I wonder,
You are actually perfection on a plate,
All my wishes confirmed for my eye's to feast,
You listen, converse, laugh, speak sense,
Your like my concious more innocent,
When alone in my thoughts I know,
I fell in love along the way,
I'm evaporated by your honesty,
Our souls melt into the Ether,
Alien yet familiar fears dwell,
A fool for love and lust,
Heart brashly on sleeve,
Afraid I'll chemically combust,
I cant see your thoughts either,
Are you just honeymooning this new behaviour,
Don't misread that I'm wanting it fast,
My heart prays to God It will last,
All I need is something more concrete,
I cant sweep this away just for encase,
Every waking moment I long to embrace,
In you my love knew we would meet,
But for now we go with the flow,
Fear you will bin me for another,
All helplessly in love and lost,
I'm almost certain my heart'll pay the cost,
We lock just like Lego blessed from above,
Humanoid Lego a gift of true love.
© Susan Michelle Baker
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 7:31 AM UTC
Now, the truth
Luke & Leia is this love
Thank God not the wrong kind
Siblings apart since birth
Together till the end of time
Darth vader concious
Dark, evil, twisted
Luring Luke innocent
No Luke! Don't do it!
Doesn't matter he's your Dad
Doesn't matter how sad
He doesn't give a hoot
Who on earth he shoots
Stormtrooper beware
Puppet of your master
You will be beaten big time
By a gorgeous little Ewok
Chewy & Han
You are the man
Milenium shoots them all
You saved the day
Kept Darth vader at bay
You saved our heros
Wicked
Poor Han solid
In some ungodly squalor
Not the nicest end
Certainly not Han Solo's plan
Geez George ... really ...
Tin & metal
R2, See threepio
Nitter natter chatter
Lots of friendly banter
Cuter than buttons
You just wanna hug em
Jedi Knight Yoda
Played his part of course
Strong in force
He helped the cause
Although he has passed over
Goodness wins in the end
Good force takes the flag
Mighty, Epic, Timeless
And gloriously mad
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 3:46 AM UTC
No strings attatched
They loudly proclaim
As I feel a subtle tug.
This way, that way,
Upwards, down:
A guiding force
So small, so menacing.
No strings attached
They tenderly whisper
So close to my ear.
Do this, play that,
Lie here, forget:
My tiny concious
Easily crushed, easily displaced.
No strings attached
They persistently hiss
As I back away.
But why, what if,
How come, explain:
Life is a stage
So who is the puppeteer?
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 3:51 AM UTC
when I was seven years old
my family started going to a Christian church
and all I thought about was
how the pews that we sat in
would have done more for God as trees
and they said to love our neighbors
because God wanted us to love our neighbors
but I love my neighbor
because his windows are lit up at 4 AM
a time when only the miserable are concious
and yet he always smiles at the postman
when I was thirteen years old
I visited a Buddhist temple with my friend
she showed me how to meditate
but sitting so still made my skin crawl
and she told me about karma
but I wasn't sure what it was
that my little sister did
to get bad enough karma to die at nine years old
she only ever left out granola bar wrappers
and sometimes forgot to say "thank you"
but karma sent her a drunk driver
I never understood religion
the only temple I ever felt at home in
was the hand of my lover
and I never felt the presence of God
but I felt the anguish
of my postman
as my neighbor began to lose that light in his eyes
and I may have never read the bible
but I've run my fingers
across a thousand trees
and they guide me when I am lost
I never beleived in a higher power
but I believe in my sister
who used to pick at threads on her church dress
and to my mothers dismay
ruffled up her perfectly curly hair
no God would **** her
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
Skating on thin ice my whole life like a figureskater.
First price on sight but the stripes, resembles a broken picture.
A golddigger... Go figure.
Writing straight from my heart so every bar tender. I remember a night in december,
from a walk in the park to a shot in the dark, I wasnt that cleaver.
Pretended to be concious and smart but now the scars on my arms shows that Im a beginner.
Sober for 3 years yet addicted to your liquor.
Sparked my transmitter when ladys slipper fell off after our first dinner,
But I never knew cinderella was a heavy hitter.
Couldnt connect the dots so now im on the ground with seven stars above my head like I got hit with the big dipper.
PTSD...
But **** all the modesty, I just need honesty...
My writtens a blasphemy (blast for me) but I can't be myself anymore like broken prophecy so God,
accept my apology, beacuse there's a monster inside of me that produces sick thoughts like it knew biology.
Some might say im insane but **** my brain, my heart is always by my side. Deranged thoughts but love tells me when its a lie.
So stay in my lane and embrace the fact that we all are going to die or live to busy and miss the heartbeat that takes you to the otherside.
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 9:16 AM UTC
There are days
That I look in the mirror and see
An unfamiliar face
There’s a disconnect and I’m
Dissociative.
I know it’s me,
But it feels all so strange
To not feel anything at all.
There are off days
When I speak to people
And I feel nothing from their eyes
They’re just empty and I’m
Dissociative.
You want to have some emotion
But frankly,
There’s none there
Because a glass wall has arisen
Between you and the world
And that’s
Dissociative.
Like the time I was walking
And it was a movie all around me
No depth,
Just a two dimensional view
I was
Dissociative.
Or that time that I was floating
In the top right of my body
As only my concious,
Looking down on myself
Because I was
Dissociative.
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 10:08 PM UTC
When I look into the moon I see the only dependent part of me that still exists. Its as if the silence in her vocal cords spoke words of solitude. I gave her the only bio mechanical part of me that mattered.
The gears in my chest keep turning like clock work.
I count seconds into minutes and minutes into hours and hours into days. I keep thinking time is standing still while im still standing still.
I'm waiting, waiting on patience and as unjustified as it sounds I'm impatient. Dreams are just your natural thoughts heavily sedated, a sub-conscious reality based off the feelings we cant display them.
I don't consider myself a writer, I see the constant flow of words and as a kid it left me inspired. I'm more of the sub concious reality type. I drink coffee and outside of that I really don't have a life.
For me writing is self exspression without being judged by others.
I opinionate my feelings and organize them in ink. The papper is my empty canvas, my thoughts are my judgment, and the pen is the deliverer.
Sometimes writing is the only thing that can stitch my wounds, like the words curved inside my brain penetrating like the needlesof a tattoo. I wonder what will become me, in what paradox will I redeem the sum of me?
I just hope this bio mechanical heart ticks away. I hope people continue to be people with different mindsets and open steeples. I want love to be found and dreams to be created.
Kalvin Moon
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 2:20 AM UTC
Firm hands
Visage, chiselled by gods
I pray upon the temple
Intertwined fingers
Sinful embrace
I have longed a touch for Mars
So far, yet he saw the wood,
The hill,
The Temple.
The Mars enraged!
Raging howl of a lone canine
Digging of what the burried desire has for him
Digging, digging
Dig!
The Lumberjack fervently saws the hills
O God! Visage with a burning desire!
Not a tune of emotion compares to what this broken vision has seen
Not a tune of reality passes him.
Unconcious by the dew,
Concious by the sun
Ending the sin of a forbidden bind.
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 1:38 AM UTC
Stumbling through this broken dream,
The colorblind artist finds a motif.
For once he wasn't wrong,
When he felt right.
He found more than a distraction from the black and white.
A lilly in the concrete,
To never expire.
I've got a brand new drug,
It's like I've never been higher.
A solitary blossom standing in the debris.
She's the only thing thats really perfect about me.
At this point I can't fall asleep.
It's never been the same,
Ever since you met me.
It's one a.m.
And I'm awake again.
When talking to you,
Sleep is such a waste of our time.
And whats worse,
Than wasting my time with you,
On this earth.
Of our time,
And whats worse?
Which is why we both decided to dive in head first.
A lilly in the concrete,
To never expire.
I've got a brand new drug,
It's like I've never been higher.
A solitary blossom standing in the debris.
She's the only thing thats really perfect about me.
He dropped to one knee,
like he'd done before.
The roots were unearthed,
As he pulled on the flower.
The lilly found a home,
In the palm of his hand,
And the colorblind artist saw beauty again.
It's not the thoughts in the car,
Toward the masquerade.
It's the girl at the concert,
Rubbing elbows with me.
It's not our self concious,
It's not my flaws.
It's how together we can tear all of the negatives down.
of our time.
And whats worse,
Than wasting my time with you,
On this earth.
Of our time,
And whats worse?
Which is why we both decided to dive in head first.
A lilly in the concrete,
To never expire.
I've got a brand new drug,
It's like I've never been higher.
A solitary blossom standing in the debris.
She's the only thing thats really perfect about me.
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 6:08 AM UTC
I met someone today
Someone I've known forever, yet never really known
she was a beautiful girl, yet she wrapped
herself in a blanket of insecurity
She was a determined girl, yet dependant on
everyone but herself
She was an affectionate girl, yet gave love to all but
those who were derserving
She was an eloquent girl, yet she impressed
for all the wrong reasons
I stood in the mirror, staring at her, staring at me
And all I thought was how very little I envied her
How self-concious and plain and naive she was
I looked at her and decided
We'd never meet again.
Dec 8, 2010
Dec 8, 2010 at 7:33 PM UTC
Seductive being.
You have captured my eyes.
Blown away by an angel.
Tricked by diguise.
I'm lead astray by this angel.
The way she courses with grace.
So I follow the shadow.
Fooled by the veil on her face.
I have commited a crime.
I have visualized this affair.
Acknowledging this moment.
This innocent state of mind.
I admitt that this diversion.
Has corrupted me inside.
Leaving me empty.
Leaving me alive.
I'm drawn by her beauty.
Harmonizing her rythm.
While she harmonizes with mine.
Concious of this unlawful act.
Acheiving the impossible.
Acheiving this lie.
Aug 5, 2010
Aug 5, 2010 at 9:40 PM UTC
I find
some eyes
shine innocent
naive with
camera love
unconscious gaze
that gives
warmth back
not the
pouting posing
dead eyed
child woman
making mock
of what
she thinks
the world
wants of
her
high gloss
no warmth
gangster prankster
doll
magazine
cover lover
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
I've always fancied myself to be a care-free person
I never give a hoot as to what people think of me
I know that I am good inside, if others don't I shouldn't mind.
But there are certain words, insults, and phrases
That I cannot brush off, with a HAH and a cough
Things I tucked away, sent to bed years ago.
But sometimes these self-concious demons
Get up to ask for water.
"You're so aggressive"
I am not aggressive,
But I am not a swan princess, do not expect me to be.
"You're such a brat."
I'm am annoying when I am,
But I am not a spoiled 8 year old.
"You're so fake"
I am kind to all whether I enjoy their company or not,
I do not gossip. ever.
Do not make claims about my being
I know my faults better than those who observe them
I am working hard at them, to be a better person
I do not need help
There is no benefit when hurtful words are expressed
I know me
You know you
Why should you try and make anyone better but yourself?
If there was more focus inwardly on being a better person
No one would be sad.
Or bad.
Or self-concious, not even a tad.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC
Leave your concious mind
into vivid dreams
fall into the sheets
to watch stars capsize
beneath a distant horizon.
Cling to their brilliance
swing from their beams above the fields
call farewell to the
antagonists
who shoved you too far
Whisper into the vacant spaces
words of reassurance
tell yourself
'it's okay to follow the light'
an escape
beyond the reaches of your lifetime
into the heavy darkness.
let the stars lead you
so readily
beyond.
So forlorn
is the echo
of your final goodbye.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 3:48 PM UTC
A newborn father
wears a path to heaven
in polished holy marble
'neath the pedestal
of stoney saints.
Deific overseers
cast artificial glory
incandescently.
A slice of dimly lit
hospital heaven
is framed with two candles
and the incense of Betadine.
Saint John's shadow
shares confessions
and supplications
over a once-immortal man
now unashamedly broken,
bartering trade with God -
his life for his son's.
This shoebox chapel
is starking cold.
Cold enough to preserve meat,
and doubts
which mock peace
against nun-hardened walls
echoing Satan's laugh.
Hope drowns in the ripples
of a basin filled with water
to wash our sins
but not our fear.
In the air hangs
the promise of eternity
(which is spiritual code for "death", but no one says "death" outloud. The more they don't say it, the more it sounds like "WE AREN'T GOING TO SAY "DEATH", WE CAN'T POSSIBLY SAY "DEATH", UNTIL IT IS SO UNCOMFORTABLE THAT WE MIGHT AS WELL BE SAYING "DEATH, DEAD, DIE, DIE, DIE, DIE, DEATH AND TO TOP IT OFF...ON YOUR MOTHER'S GRAVE").
Yet piercing through
the promise of eternity
is the frail wail
of his baby's voice.
Legacy lingers in a
plastic manger down the hall.
Resurrection is more
than a prayer, it is his spirit
rising for one more miracle.
Faith is summoned
like a woozy fighter
demanding his will
to go on,
beaten,
half-concious
on the mat
refusing to lay down
for the count.
"God, I believe.
Help my unbelief."
The weeping man
stares into a statue's eyes
for salvation.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 7:49 PM UTC
I wish you had proved me wrong
Deep within my conciousness
I floated
Opening every door I came across
All of the forseen options
like chess moves
Knowing all of this, I'm too in-tune
I manifested this outcome
Without even wanting to
Thats the hidden side of being concious
You manifest what you think
I was thinking of you
Now the challenge is to grow
Untainted
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 2:43 AM UTC
Could it have been the self concious views?
The lack of choice- No room to choose?
Could it have been the need for emotion?
The outbursts? The commotion?
Were the cogs rusting? A lack of motion
The cogs of time rusting...
Time not moving with the speed of light?
Could it have been that one was moving faster, then other-
Timing not right?
Like a Cheetah and a Deer holdings hands,
Could it have been tempting chance?
The chance to be amazed at the beauty of this picture,
Then not be surprised with the outcome- An act of nature.
Mesmerized with lies that are there to charm.
Cheating fate, Causing harm.
Could it have been...
That you left me because I was no more an object of your desire?
Or- Could it had been that all along,
I was playing with fire?
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
I use to let the eyes in the dark
Creep in my concious and part my heart
I would feed the stomach in my brain
Feasting on the thought that I'm insane
I'd lock myself in another room
As I would enter a state of gloom
I would write to rid a mind of wrong
Turns out the eyes would read along
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 2:35 AM UTC
there, in those strawberry fields of dreaming-
those blooms of a season long since dead and torched-
i swore i found you
and you were speaking sweetly in a smokey room
with a crescent smile
and a cheap long-neck bottle
and a blue ball-point pen
that you'd only pry from it's waltzing
to chuckle with (and charm) the bartender
an older lady
with muddy-water curls
and poision ivy eyes
and...there's something about her that reminds me of my mom...
then the moment's gone
and now, all i can wonder
is how it is that she's counting change when she hasn't got any fingers
the captain must be on the mic again
with ******** banter about the weather
or our eventual destination
or something about the turbulence to calm the unfortunate un-drugged
his monotone monotony
sneaking through my sleep to me
and coming through like the voice of the radio host
as my head's beneath tepid bathwater
your ellegance uneffected by his audible intrusion
into my sub-concious dellusion
you pull at the tides of your brew
and wink
then back to a busy pen
i have to get to you
you've got to remember
come back
but dreams don't work like that
it's as if my feet don't match my body
or my legs are facing backward
or i'm in that godforsaken hallway scene of "The Shining"
and i'm finding this to be far more frustrating
than remaining concious through the flight could have ever been
and again
somewhere over nebraska
the ride gets increasingly shaky
not obnoxious enough to wake me
just enough to take me to the part of the nightmare
where my teeth start falling out
like precious little gems of vicodin and nicorrette
t a p p i n g out my fragile skull
and now i'm wearing some bloody-gummed grin
and that charming lounge is feeling like "From Dusk Till Dawn"
and all of the friendly faces are gone
except for yours
and you look horrified
how come now i've got your attention?
touchdown at o'hare
and i wake in the window seat next to a vacant chair
alive and well
except that you're not there
and to think
when i was a kid
my nightmares all had fearsome beasts
then i grew up
and found the monster to be me
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC
IN THE DARK FILTHY ROOM,
THERE'S NO ONE ELSE,
TO LIGHT UP THE ROOM
THROUGH FEARY THOUGHTS.
I HEAR A VOICE, A HORROR VOICE;
IN A STREET WITH NO NOISE.
SWEATING ALL OVER MY FACE,
TREMBLING AND SHIVERING IN THE FEAR.
I YELL FOR SOMEONE'S HELP;
A TOUCH ON MY SHOULDER,A SOFT TOUCH
ALMOST MY HEART CAME OUT OF MY BODY
I SLOWLY TURNED WITH HOPE
SOMEONE IS THERE EVEN IN DARK TO HELP ME.
I JUST LOST MY CONCIOUS FOR A MOMENT,
WHEN I OPEN MY EYES
I FOUND MY MOM IN TEARS
"SHE WAS LIKE A MIRACLE
NO ONE IN THE ROOM
HOW SHE'S IN THERE CRYING FOR ME???
THOSE TEARS FOR ME
MEANS A LOT TO ME
NO ONE ELSE COULD REPLACE YOU
CAUSE I LOVE U .
I NEVER EXPRESS IT YOU MOM,
BUT MY HEART THINKS ABOUT YOU-
EVERY DAY, EVERY HOUR, EVERY MINUTE,
EVERY SECOND, AND EVERY BREATH OF MY LIFE.
MOM NO WORDS COULD EXPRESS ---
MY LOVE FOR YOU
YOU ARE MY HEART BEAT
WITHOUT YOU I HAVE NO LIFE......
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 10:42 AM UTC
How ridiculous is it that even sugar substitutes scream your name?
Understandable with the veins of a diabetic, though.
You're one bad habit too sweet to shake, and you put me in shock with that rare, flashing smile.
I ripped open a packet and studied those white crystals as I'd once studied you.
I failed to consider your authenticity before pouring.
Freely you fell, and loosely, you dissolved.
I stirred you in, and wanted more.
Suddenly sour, my drink was unbearable.
You ripped my heart in two in the same way I tore that paper.
This divided heart of mine is now a pool swimming with your artificial ingredients.
But honestly, how concious is anyone measuring your flavor?
My god, life's so bland without you.
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 2:06 PM UTC
Early morning wake to
the pale yellow sun streaming
gently through the broken blinds.
Rolling over onto the warmth
of another body
I can still say is mine.
Olive skin, speckled with scars
and freckles- perfect imperfections
all but your double-sugar dark roast eyes.
Time lingers as you watch me
wake, semi-concious smiles
of the brand new day.
Goodmorning beautiful, I love you
I couldn't tell you
a better thing to say.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 10:57 AM UTC
wish this was only
my existence
i could give up
on persistence
convincing my concious
that its morally fine
ignore the repercussions
of my suicide
wish it all washed away
when we take the ferry
but the world still flows
and memories are carried
Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 2:46 AM UTC
You are my darling,
You are my sweetheart.
You're my love and your father's just jealous.
I can swoon and I can flatter you.
You're the reason the moon hides behind shadows,
Cause it sees you and gets self-concious about it's figure.
When you summit those mountains, you're the reason those fish swim upstream.
You pick those strings better than your brother picks his nose,
And boy does he do it well.
Rug makers idolize you because of how you weave those words.
The ebbing of the ocean is in constant competition with how you swim the tides.
And with all of your multitalented-genius
I wouldn't be surprised if you could calculate the coordinates of the sun while sprinting a marathon But I know you'd just find that
You are sunshine.
Watch out for those boys, chica, cause the line for you is longer than Gamestop's.
If you never understand how well you recited your ABC's that 1st day of elementary school,
I just hope you know...
You make the bees jealous, honey.
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 7:35 PM UTC