"confuses" poems
You were the morning
When the sun returns with hope
Now night confuses.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 3:19 AM UTC
sometimes things that are so amazing, so wonderful…
can confuse me.
the emotions fog up the window
(my brain is clouded with thoughts)
when the fog clears, there are beautiful
blue butterflies flying around
(um...how’d they get there.).
that’s what confuses me.
could those be the same butterflies
from my stomach that
makes me nervous around you.
or are they a pigment of my imaginations,
feelings that aren’t true and made up.
(a soft warning of pain to come)
(an assurance of how beautiful i really am)
(a demon ready to devour me)
what is it.
i name this little blue—
confusion.
she’s beautiful but quiet.
maybe i need her company.
eventually the truth will hit her
instead of hitting the window
(my brain is a pane of glass).
you can leave this dungeon, papillon.
fly! fly away with your gratefulness!
be free!
(my imagination runs wild
like these butterflies)
freedom awaits.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 1:23 AM UTC
To lie or not to lie - that is the question:
Whether 'tis better to keep the truth
Shutting the light in the dark,
Or to bring upon pain or pleasure
Why, by bringing truth, gain unwanted reaction. To lie, deceit -
No more - and by secret to say what we want to say
The will of truth and lie
That flows from lips - 'tis an infection
One craved by all. To lie, deceit -
Deceit, perhaps too much. Ay, there's the problem.
For in that deceit of truth what pathologic lieing may come.
When we have gained such filthy pleasure from this lie,
Must force us thought. That's the reality
That makes chaos of such pleasure.
For who really wants to hear or speak an ugly truth,
The lover's love gone, the child's art trash,
The woman's ugly face, the man's unattractive body,
The co-worker's stench, and the embarrassing blemish
That gives opportunity for lie,
When they themselves would appreciate
Why give them heart ache? Who would give them truth,
To give them hurt,
But the chance they would enjoy the truth,
The unknown glee from fate's unlucky victims
For the victim's mind confuses the liar
And makes the liar want to speak truth
And to see that reaction instead.
Thus turning pathologic lieing into suthe saying,
And thus the addicting infection
Is cured with the disease of truth,
And infection seems less appealing
With this regard the lies soon stop
And lose what effect they once had.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 6:08 PM UTC
it confuses me how someone can think they are not beautiful,
I mean think about that beautiful spot in the woods or on the mountains or your favorite scenic place that is so breathtaking and beautiful,
the same person that made that place and this earth made you
and if that doesn't make you feel beautiful then I don't know
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 11:52 PM UTC
Love trusts, lust twists
Love rains, lust drains
Love reaches, lust catches
Love couples, lust combines
Love retains, lust detains
Love relies, lust relays
Love cares, lust caresses
Love binds, lust blinds
Love floats, lust flees
Love belongs, lust longs
Love ascends, lust descends
Love fames, lust defames
Love creates, lust recreates
Love commands, lust demands
Love chooses, lust chases
Love boosts, lust boasts
Love at heart
Lust in mind
Love in lust is good
Lust in love is better
Love likes privacy
Lust looks for piracy
Love opens lust
Lust closes love
Love is slow, lust is fast
Love is steady and stable
Lust is mobile and fragile
Love is reliable, lust is liable
Love is long, lust is short
Love is homogeneous
Lust is heterogeneous
Love is defensive
Lust is offensive
Love is precious
Lust is pernicious
Love is supportive
Lust is supplementary
Love is refined
Lust is defined
Love betters life
Lust batters it.
Love has character
Lust has conduct
Love wins over
Lust weans out
Love combines
Lust divides
Love is cool
Lust is crazy
Love is peaceful
Lust is pleasant
Love is wholesome
Lust is piecemeal
Lust comes first
Love becomes best
Love is progressive
Lust is aggressive
Lust laminates
Love illuminates
Love is slow n steady
Lust is hasty n nasty
Love is dense, lust is tense
Lust is conditioned,
Love is air-conditioned
Lust is lovely to begin with
Love is lustrous to end up
Love heals, lust wounds
Love owns, lust disowns
Love is onus, lust is onerous
Love is basic, lust is allowance
Love conforms, lust confuses
Love binds, lust blinds
Be aware of love
Beware of lust
That comes like
wolf in sheep’s clothing
Let the fair blend
of love and lust
rule the roost
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:15 AM UTC
The devils foot soldier;
That's what you turned to be.
The one I thought that I could trust;
Confuses my memory.
You water the flower to feed the roots;
Thus only to pluck the petals.
It reminds me of how strong you are;
Strong like crimson metal.
But that metal rusts, and the flower dies after you've shed them limb by limb.
Stripping them down to their naked cores;
And exposing their deadly sins.
We're all like flowers, but don't water the roots if you'll only pluck our petals.
It'll show the ugly truth inside;
Like rusted crimson metal.
Alysia Marie 2015 ©
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 2:21 PM UTC
under this suburban sky
red stain on the dull gray, when you move away to your elsewhere
you revive
as a fish returning to the water after a short yet intense pain
for you I'm the bait
and the hook
and the fisherman too,
not in that order
in the order you decide
since you decide
you are elusive, you always look away and tighten your eyes
your words are lashes
I feel weak in your presence,
at the same time your fragility confuses me and it moves me
as a boat adrift in a lonely sea
...................
sotto questo cielo suburbano
macchia rossa su grigio opaco, quando ti muovi nel tuo altrove,
tu rivivi
come un pesce che ritorna in acqua dopo un'agonia breve ma intensa
per te io sono esca
amo ed anche pescatore,
ma non in quell'ordine
nell'ordine in cui decidi
e tu decidi
sei inafferrabile, distogli sempre lo sguardo e stringi gli occhi
le tue parole sono staffilate
mi sento debole in tua presenza,
allo tempo stesso la tua fragilità mi confonde e mi commuove
come una barca alla deriva in un solitario mare
..................
bajo este cielo suburbano
mancha roja en gris opaco, cuando te alejas a tu otro lugar,
tu revives
como un pez que regresa al agua después de un dolor breve pero intenso
yo soy cebo para ti
y gancho
y también pescador
pero no en ese orden
en el orden en que tu decidas
y tu decides
eres evasiva, siempre mira hacia otro lado y cierras los ojos
tus palabras son latigazos
me siento débil en tu presencia,
al mismo tiempo, tu fragilidad me confunde y me conmueve
como un barco a la deriva en un solitario mar
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 9:05 AM UTC
What we have together is complicated.
It very well may be toxic.
But I am glad it happened.
I ask if you love me.
The physical representation of thirst.
You curve my appetite in so many ways.
I am full in knowing that you complete me.
Such a sensual smell.
My mouth burnt by the hot.
My taste buds go insane each time you are near.
Watering at the mouth.
I've eaten too much but know you fulfill my every need.
I often picture a life together with you.
Seasonal aroma, stirred and mixed.
Following your lead.
We grow older.
At times you upset my stomach.
I regret the decision of going to find you.
But this is the same reason I am drawn towards you.
Licking the corners on my mouth.
You fill what hunger I have and I love it.
Because I love you.
We may have our spats but that's anyone that confuses misunderstanding.
I am sincere in the way I am reminded.
Yet selfish in the way I am spoiled.
I love you because you always commit with purpose.
One spoon at a time.
To wake up and have you here with me.
I wouldn't trade anything for it.
To wake up and have you beside me,
To wake up and ask is that Shrimp Fried Rice on your breath
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 4:10 PM UTC
"In all the celestial bodies out there whose love story is your favorite?" She asks him.
He looks at her with curiosity, urging her to continue talking.
"*Mine is the earth and the moon and I think yours is the sun and the earth. I just think it's amazing for the moon to stay in the Earth's orbit despite being just an extended light. The only thing that keeps the moon holding on is the mutual gravitational attraction. And if that's gone the moon will probably fall and break. It's a one sided love not much of a love story but for the moon it is. The moon is so strong for it to stay knowing she's just a cheaper version of something, knowing she gives the earth light only when the sun is out.*"
"Why do I feel like the moon envies the sun?" He chuckled and as he continues to speak the facade of his face now turning more serious.
"Don't you think it's the sun who should be envious? For it's the moon who's more in control of the earth. Tides are caused by the moon and the sun, but it has always been more influenced by the moon for it is much closer. The moon has more influenced to whatever the earth feels if it's high or low, it all depends on her."
She does not know how to respond to his surprising reply but she finally says,
"But the moon just confuses the Earth."
"How could you possibly know are you "Earth"?"
"No..."
"But i know for I am the moon and I wish that mutual gravitational attraction will never be gone just so no matter how far you wander you will always end up in my arms, because I will always be here" she thought to herself but instead of saying it out loud she just smiled and pointed out the kid who just fell and suddenly it was just another day.
(K.Cross)
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 11:06 AM UTC
What begs a Sonnet if not to Express
But Expression alone Good Fame depends
If Maps such as these confuses the Rest
Then Life's Published Theme will begin to End
These Girls do not just a Heart label so
Pressing the Rewind back to Robin's Day
But Issues pressed onto Paper, and go
Feed the Bird's Stem and regulate their Say
Someone like me must care about these Things
And Mark at how their Chemistry reacts
Prudence, the Ingredient I must now bring
To set my Items from Falsehoods to Facts.
It would be Easier if you just Spoke
Perhaps my Attitude made me go Broke.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 3:08 AM UTC
After my mother died, my room was filled with roses. When the flowers died, my room was filled with their sweet, rotten stench for weeks on end; it sunk into my pores and into my DNA and years later, I still smell like dead roses.
My sister confuses this smell with dead lilies.
A bouquet of red roses was placed atop my mother’s coffin as it lowered six
feet down into the earth. After the roses died, I wonder if my mother could
smell them like I did? I wonder if she still smells them, or, more likely, how long it took for the roses to disintegrate into dust like her?
We don’t talk about the body after death because we don’t like to be reminded of how vulnerable we really are. In high school, a boy asked me to prom using roses and lilies that were all different shades of reds and oranges and yellows like fire. Lilies like funerals and tombstones and formaldehyde.
I don’t think he meant to remind me of death. I don’t think his intention was to place me in a casket similar to my mother’s with its pink padded walls. I don’t think he realized that’s where I went when I saw his basement covered in bouquets of hellfire. I think he meant the roses to be romantic,
but I looked at them and saw my mother’s putrefying face, saw her intestines eaten away by savage bacteria and bugs, saw her eyelids drying out and peeling back like black and dead and withered lily petals. Embalming does not prevent decomposition, only prolongs it. I have embalmed my mother's
memory in the shape of a teal notebook. I cannot tell if it has
begun to decay or not.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 2:31 PM UTC
turn your back
but stay in view at the same time
(now look away,
anything else confuses)
stand still without saying a word
you can’t see but this is how
i separate day from night
and the starless sky
from the empty heart
4.5k
You make me feel so stupid
When we play chess
The way you en passant all nonchalant
You chase me into castle
From there I watch you intently
The way the Russians watched Bobby Fischer
In his hotel room
But while I wait for a move to develop
I become the Boredest Spazsky
My mind in a stalemate
As I try to crush your Sicilian defenses
As much as I harangue
You leave me in zugzwang
Which confuses my feeble mind
For I may be a pawn
But I'm the king pawn
Which means the board usually revolves around me
But your queen takes that instantly
And I'm left in a fool's checkmate
I wish you could see things from my side of the board
You'd see how desperately I wanted the king
All the complex and unique obstacles in the way
But instead you just sit there
And laugh at me losing all my pieces trying to reach you
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 2:17 AM UTC
As one who's born in England
There is something I don't know
Exactly what is "cricket" ?
Please tell me so I'll go
Both teams dress in white
The bowler doesn't bowl
He doesn't bend his arm to throw
I don't understand the goal
The ball goes out it scores six runs
But it must go in the air
The ball rolls out it scores four more
Is this really fair?
The games can last for days and days
But what confuses me
Is that every game at four o'clock
The players stop for tea
A game is called a test
But is every test a game
some may last for just one day
The length is not the same
There's a throw they call a googly
I know what that means
I got hit there playing hockey
It ***** your breath so you can't scream
There's wickets and there's bails
mid slips, and those silly stumps
I'm sure that if it confuses me
What does it do to umps?
The biggest question that I have
Besides, what's a sticky wicket?
Is of all the players on the field
Which one of them's the cricket?
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 11:47 AM UTC
A new day has dawned, the clocks have changed
Lost an hour sleep, and my body found it strange
Now on daylight savings time
Confused this wee mind of mine
Why not leave it alone, it confuses people's brains?
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 3:25 PM UTC
Truth is the product of the pursuit of knowledge.
Though most people, I have found, do not embrace but fear knowledge.
I believe this to be due to the fact that knowledge is something that cannot be tailored to an individual.
What is, is.
Whether you like it or not.
Knowledge can often be daunting and go against the very foundation of everything you hold "true".
But truth is not there to keep you complacent, it's there to drive you, it's what you should live for.
The pursuit of knowledge is an ongoing process, constantly evolving.
One day you can feel without a shadow of a doubt that you "know" something,
and the next day be proven utterly wrong.
This is why it confuses me so that people hold steadfast to antiquated "truths",
catalogued by humans, and passed down through generations.
Like high school gossip, slipping from one grimy hand into the next,
riddled with the stains of ignorance and manipulation.
Knowledge can often isolate.
Spark hatred in those comfortably numb.
But those on the pursuit are not to be feared or confined,
they're to be celebrated and joined!
Because truth is freedom, and it will only unify.
Don't give up, don't give in.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 3:22 AM UTC
I’m looking in a mirror,
and this face I see,
Tall with dark features,
at the age of sixteen.
At the age of sixteen,
I have seen the world.
The people, the faces,
the boys and girls.
At the age of sixteen,
I haven’t been far from home.
But I’ve made some friends,
and I’m not alone.
At the age of sixteen,
I’m aware what’s right.
What’s wrong in this world,
the hate and the strife.
But at the age of sixteen,
what confuses me still.
Is how you have children,
on your own free will.
But don’t care for them,
and spread your charade to we.
But I see behind the curtains,
And I’m only sixteen.
I’m only sixteen,
and I see what you do.
I’m behind the acts,
I’m standing beside you.
I’m screaming in your ears,
“Oh, don’t you see?!
The mess you’ve made?”
And I’m only sixteen.
I’m only sixteen,
I manage a life.
I have two jobs,
I am not a wife.
But I am sixteen,
and for a while back there.
I saw your kids more,
and gave them more care.
I am only sixteen,
I will be seventeen soon.
But I’m not stupid,
and I see what you do.
Jul 12, 2011
Jul 12, 2011 at 7:52 PM UTC
When words are not enough,
and the world won’t get off her back,
she dances the Devils way,
She’s a princess,
wait she’s a queen,
wait she’s an angel,
wait she’s everything,
a Goddess,
the hottest performing artist I’ve ever seen,
and she’s dancing,
dancing is her therapy,
I mean,
I’m not James Brown,
but it’s a man’s world,
even if Rihanna runs this town,
See,
she’s been suppressed all her life,
and I’m not just talking about Rihanna,
I’m talking about every girl that was ever forced to be a wife,
just to survive in this life,
she was touched by her father,
or brother or cousin,
when she was just a little girl,
I know we all wish it wasn’t,
but it is true,
so what’s a girl to do,
when she’s a clean 13 messing with The ***** Dozen,
this isn’t battle of the sexes,
this is war of the worlds,
wants to be a woman but she’s just a girl,
no No Doubt just burnt out nerves taken turns,
she never asked to be born,
with the burden of being beautiful,
but she refuses to conform,
she is attractable irrational and radical,
so when it’s all too much,
the stares and the catcalls,
the aggressive forceful touch,
the nails across her back like a blackboard,
and the moans become just white noise,
she takes it all in,
she forgives the man because he’s just a boy,
he is an angel even if he has fallen,
she takes it all in,
and she uses all of those abuses,
as the fuel with the tools which induces,
an allusive state of truth which,
allows her to move with intuitive smoothness,
and lose herself in the music morphing into what a centrifuge is,
separating fluids transforming what was otherwise useless abuses,
into a truth that cruises and confuses the stupid stooges,
she dances,
in a statement of glorious refusal to submit to their ideals,
she is more than a princess queen angel goddess,
she is fire burning up all preconceived notions of *** appeal,
the real deal,
dancing sweating cleansing her soul and her pores,
moving faster in progression refuting repression,
overcoming an obsession of oppression and knocking down all doors,
she is not a possession,
though she is possessed when,
she’s a dancing expression of how we all feel and more,
no words are enough,
she shows what we all feel,
she reveals what,
was before thinly concealed,
she is the perfect expression,
of imperfect circumstances,
she is poetic stanzas,
she is the paint on the canvas,
there is no question that she is the answer,
and all of this is made clear when she takes it all in,
let’s go of everything and dances…
∆aron L∆ Lux ∆
#strength #metoo #dancer #ballet #blackswan
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
If you met
My best friend
You'd ask
How someone like me
Gained the honor
Of calling her
My "bestie"
You'd wonder why
She didn't pick someone better
And if you asked her,
She'd say
My best friend is perfect.
That's what confuses me about her
Of all the people in the world
She chose me to keep close to her
But I guess
That's what best friends are for
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
Hi Quaden,
When your cries were loud,
The world heard of your cries.
The world couldn't hold back their tears
As your emotions are ours.
Your emotions reminisce our past.
'They' say our past is meant to be present This confuses us with our 'dim memories'.
How could the world acts so mean??
Seal thy mouth!
Every teardrop was flashing in front of my eyes.
But today I'm shining more than the pearl in the ocean.
Quaden, still your sweet voice reaches my ears.
I understand that your pain is so emotional and heartbreaking.
Remember, my dear little pal you became an example for the whole globe.
You have inspired the world.
A true tale that will last long.
You are born unique
And that isn't a matter to anyone.
No one can disturb you and believe that it's you!
Thou art special, charming and sportive!
Be strong and be great.
Believe that 'it's you' .
I call myself 'I' and that's you!
Feb 27, 2020
Feb 27, 2020 at 2:50 AM UTC
the first encounter was a blast
I've never expect that it will Last
nothing to speak but beauty and praises
I can now define happiness through coffee and braces
her legs are so **** it won't meet
the meat in the middle is what i like to eat
every after meal I always go to her seat
sharing stories of our lives with a long malicious slit
Confusion confuses the agony
emotion change like the transition of a symphony
pleasurably bad, she invaded this territory
in my hands are the conclusion of this scroll bar theory
I ought to smile when salary raises
move a mile when traveling in different places
If happiness can be found at the end of various mazes
I think I'll just walk a while, accompanied by her coffee and braces
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 3:06 AM UTC
*If you knew everything there is to know,
Then how could you ever learn anything or grow?
If you somehow knew all that will ever be
Could any decision that you decide upon ever make you free?
If your mind was everything and everything was in you
Could their ever be anything else for you to do?
And there you are – right in the middle of this inquisition,
A slave to your own reality – chained to your own constitution.
But it is you who has allowed yourself to be caught in this net
You came here not to remember anything but to forget.
You have forgotten who you are and in your own grand illusion find
A dream of freedom and free will which further confuses your mind.
For knowing everything is a girdle of limitless limitation,
But here we have a place of both the known and the unknown – called creation.
In this ignorance you have something to choose,
Freedom from perfection – there was no other way to lose.
So you see – only if you know yourself as that which is not true,
Only there could you be free to select whatever you want to.
Within a single mind, two hands and two eyes; you think, feel and see
These envisioned experiences – only now they can truly be.
Yes, free will also gave you the choice to forget from where you come,
Yet, the closer we return to that place – the happier we become.
I learned to control my awareness and thus I can oft return,
But the closer I get the less choice remains for me to learn.
Though I long for and receive more and more of the infinite’s touch,
The more I also long for the finite in me not to know so much.*
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 12:24 PM UTC
When I hear a concealed clock ticking,
I think it's some shouldered past jello grenade
ready to chastise my fletched thumbs.
Like the last time Sandman drew supper with his knees,
and decided to fling cherry cobbler at my nose,
I realized this homeless perfume actually belonged to Mother.
Her pearls redeem her complexion,
milk marrow of silk against her nose--
three strikes dawdling their tongues
from underneath tin necks.
Steady, rinse, exfoliate:
but those are difficult to do
when your rib cage cracks
like the last octave
of a reddening audience.
Brother thinks the tree skirt is soft,
coddling his pats and rabbits
below a ranch full o' pine scented apples.
Sister wonders if she should bring new girl home,
(met at 1:33 AM on 23rd Street.
Apartment documented to smell like baby powder)
but friends are friends are friends are friends,
just friends as furrowed Daddy repeats to himself.
Even "Hallowed be thy name..." confuses the CCD out of him.
"Cancel Alabama's trip this year;
the bees will be humming in their own candle wax.
Besides, who wants to hug Nana
when her breath doubles over in grilled salmon?"
Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 8:22 PM UTC