"congratulate" poems
A sea of nettles and nails that scream their injustice at you
People who seem like they've shaken off their prickly outsides and their hatred
Turning to congratulate them
Embrace them
Before you find the truth beneath their pillowy covering
Nails can be blunted and nettles can be softened but they remain below your surface,
Waiting for the right moment to be sharpened and grow back their stings
I see your injustice and I raise you my peace
It hurts to tear out your nails and to burn off those nettles
But oh god does it hurt more to walk your tender, soft body through that forest of pain
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC
I have been cheated on. He shares me with her. She is a pretty little girl. She has pretty little outfits of purple and pink and green and she always smells clean. He is gentle to her, with his touch and his lips. He smiles when she’s sweet and he laughs when she’s rough. If I hurt him, he lets me go; if she hurts him, he blames himself. She’s very good at breaking the ice when he wants a new friend and in a matter of time he is sharing her with them but he would never share me. He buys her lavish gifts of stained glass and painted ceramics. He spends all his money on her and his pocket is empty for me. I watch my diet while he shares all the sweets in the world with her. (It must be a passionate way to make love.) He tries to hide her from me, but I can smell her perfume in his hair and I can smell her scented gloss on his lips, and I know when his eyes are twinkling from something more than me. When it is the three of us, he always picks her first and he’ll pick her again and again until she’s all worn out. Some people may think she’s no good, she’s a poison, he should break it off, but others congratulate him for scoring such a beauty. That smile she brings to his face and everyone else’s who breathes her in. I have always been second but he is my first. I do not share him with her, though I think I should. If I want to fit in, if I want to be happy, if I want him to love me more. She’ll never break his heart.
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
today is your birthday
I hope you know that if I could
if I could say it
I would say happy birthday
but I cant
I can't congratulate you on another year
but I hope there's cake
and candles too
like the ones I used to do
but that's over
however, your day is not
so take a shot
"cheers to 28"
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 9:17 PM UTC
We sat across the table
and I couldn't look away
from all his tattoos.
Without thinking,
I stretched out my hand
and extended my finger.
I began to trace
the arcade tickets that ran
the length of his arm.
He grew up with his grandfather
and they spent hours in his arcade.
His grandfather was his first best friend,
so the tickets they won were his first tattoo.
I could feel his smile grow.
He loved his tattoos
and now I did, too.
He left a mark on my life.
Just like the ink
on his skin.
I see him everywhere.
I can't tell if he tattooed himself
in my mind or under my eyes.
There's no escaping
or replacing him.
There's just no one like him.
He had a kind of goodness
that could be seen
in the smile that
would burn into the back of my mind,
haunting me for years.
He was just dorky enough
to get a laugh out of me
when I had the weight of the
world on my chest.
If you're lucky enough
to even know him,
he'll put a tattoo in you, too.
Whether you want it or not,
you will never forget him.
Trust me, I've tried.
He comes out of nowhere
and he helps you.
He asks for help
just as much as you.
It's just enough
to make you think
that he needs you, too.
God knows he was what I needed.
I needed him like
an alcoholic needs his whisky.
He was my whisky.
His finger tips
had a different kind of ink
and he was part of me with every touch.
I swear he had needles
in the tips of his fingers.
His touch always stung,
and now I will never
forget that sting
that is now stuck
in the parts of me he touched.
All the hugs,
the intentional and unintentional ways
that we touched.
They left their mark,
their pain-riddled stain on me.
The stains of him were left
with memories and stories
and they were attached
to songs that I can no longer listen to
and places I can no longer visit.
He came into my life so quick
and he left just as fast.
I think about him often.
I dream about him often.
It's like he stops in now and then
to catch up in chat in my sleep.
He took a part of me
with him when he left.
But his memories remain
and I don't want them.
I think about the goals he had
and I hope he achieves them.
I just wish I could be the one
that gets to congratulate him.
He will be leaving in August
and I will probably never see
or talk to him again.
But I will never be able
to forget him.
He is the one tattoo
I wish I could remove.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
Life Coalesced
Envision the rest
Depressed or distressed
Worried less, I invest
May regress or finesse
Life's congruent mess
Mold your self, immaculate
Clear hate and evoke fate
Inspire, create and congratulate
Persevere when near,
Whilst you conquer fear
Happiness untamed
Dreams unattained
Mature and grow wise
In front of your eyes
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 1:06 PM UTC
Scandinavian badger sitting in the tree, I can't believe we met, it must be desti-ny.
I look up to the sky and see two clouds fighting, for some unusual reason I don't find it frightening.
Instead as I look up at the angry cloud, all I feel is proud, that its even aloud that this fluffy white sky sheep can be so well endowed.
With all the strength I can muster, I swim thru the lake of custard.
There I meet a female goat- "I'll clean all your biscuits if you just share your picnic"?
"I wish I could but I don't think I can risk it".
As I approach the shore, I meet a male horse. He says he's having a mare.
I don't know whether to commiserate or congratulate. I stroll off wandering what he meant and if I even care
I meet a male cow, or am I talking bull?
Who knows if half this story is even a quarter true.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 8:18 PM UTC
I have a right to be hostile.
I have a right to place blame
to a person who has hurt me
in the "Lord's name".
I have a right to hate
when my people are scared.
You are supposed to serve and protect
and yet, your weapons are aimed where?
I have a right to shout
in the face of your ignorance.
Because just me being alive
is a ******* political statement.
Being a decent human
is not something to congratulate.
Be decent because that is human,
not because you must compensate.
Don't force me into a box
and say I cannot escape.
**** the paths of this forked road
I choose my own fate.
Adding pressure to silence
will only turn us into diamonds,
because in our hard-earned victory
we'll sparkle and be shinin'.
There are too many of our voices,
we're impatient, that much is clear.
We're angry not because we want to be,
but because we refuse to live in fear.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 2:31 AM UTC
It's hard to shake that feeling you get after you've done something you never thought you could do.
After the gritting of teeth and continuous self motivation, but before the elation and self satisfaction that comes with hindsight.
The stomach loosens and the jaw relaxes, you come back down to normality gradually enough to be caught in a limbo.
Where you're by no means changed, or cured, or better, but you're not quite yourself either.
Just a medium ground, more pensive than happy or any other kind of emotion.
And we're left to stumble around trying to decide whether to congratulate yourselves or regret your actions.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 9:06 AM UTC
you're no trouble, no goner,
you're just playing the wrong beat.
you're no elephant in the room,
you're just dancing the wrong move.
they got your photo for display
they must've mistaken your face.
if you think you're dead today,
it's just the start of the race.
so get up, get up, get up
no broken bones must stop you now.
heads up, heads up, heads up
it's time to press play again.
go and wear your crown,
go and see the crowd,
let them know that you're around,
make them kneel to the ground,
you're the king of this town.
do they know the pearly whites hide underneath the yellow stains?
do they know that every villain is the star of his own **** play?
do they even realize you fought your battles for them?
even realize they just sit when you stand up for them?
but they get the glory,
not even feeling sorry.
it's funny how your story is getting out of control.
you think that you are winning, but then you lost your throne.
you congratulate them on your big, fake smile,
and then you comfort yourself when you sleep at night.
'cus for a second you thought you have everything:
got a pocket full of money, got the man of your dreams,
got a blanket for a cold, hard night, got the stars,
got the job that you want, got a seat in the park
but then everything's gone when you wake up the next day
you're looking for a bed, but you have slept on the floor, hey,
where are your clothes? why does your face wear blue?
there ain't no writings on the wall, but if there's one, it came true.
there's a special place for the non-believers
i didn't say in hell, but you get the picture.
how are you gonna pull yourself together when the world pushes you down all the time?
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 9:00 AM UTC
Trophies for last place,
And a Holiday for every weekend.
A taste of this and that...
OF Italy and Ireland and Asia and Germany
and every township in the county,
and 3 collective Miles of
Portable Toilets,
Strategically Positioned
throughout each event.
cause there is going to be a Lot of ****
Hooray for whatever we are celebrating this weekend.
Whichever one of the 30 different Woodstocks
Or week long Music Festivals
That exist only so
the Hippest of Hipsters
can congratulate each other
on how Indie they are.
Ya know, it's happy hour somewhere...
Why not party
All Day, Everyday?
Devalue the weekend
Like we have thanksgiving
And New Years.
A Five Kay For the Common Cold,
And We'll even give trophies for last place.
Cause we're all winners here.
and we're all hungry.
And What represents your heritage better than
Pizza or sauerkraut or General Tso's
And endless flowing barrels of refreshing, Ice cold, Domestically brewed and Nationally brand recognized Alcoholic Beverages?
IT's The Great Dumb Down, Charlie Brown!!!
A symptom of the Universe
If there ever was one.
Mass anesthesia to keep us all content
With our collective mediocrities,
our Forfeit Potential,
Our Day Job that doesn't pay very well,
But kind has benefits.
So we stay on.
In fear of nothing better.
It makes feel important.
Like Wheel of Fortune makes us feel smart.
(Wow, you can spell?!)...
Dwindling returns in a world of Beige and Pastels
And the Muted Grays of limestone concrete.
We Accept less and we Get less and we accept less and we Get less
And On And on and on,
till we hit that lowest common cultural denominator,
where your race is what food you eat,
And we all qualify for the special Olympics.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
I will take the knife you put in my back when I wasn’t looking
And push it through my flesh till it graces my heart
And nicks it just enough for the pain to come flooding out
Then I’ll paint you a portrait
Red with pain
And wrap it up with a bow on top
Because I would never forget your birthday
Or to congratulate you
As you grow one step closer to death
Because that is something that's actually worth celebrating
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
Today, I am sick.
My mental illness is shaped like a prison
and I am in the waiting room
wanting to ask
"What are you in here for"
like
what kind of crime has your head committed
that you are trying to lock it up
with prescriptions
and weekly meetings filled
with uncomfortable confessions
and numb palms from sitting on your hands for too long.
They say it's like playing in traffic,
a red-light-green-light game
where we beg for help
but don't know how to move
when we're asked to explain how we got here.
Do you even remember
what you're running from anymore?
Tell us about the days
where you can't tell if waking up
is a trench or a hill.
What has your head told you to do
and have you done it?
How did it feel when it was over?
Did your head congratulate you
when you were done?
Did you get a prize
like new scars?
Or three more handles of liquor?
The last time you prayed
did you have trouble unlocking your fingers?
Did the weight of God
keep your hands closed tight
in hopes that you wouldn't forget him
like the last time you saw Him
in the bottom of the pill bottle
and you smiled back?
Everyone here says the word Friday
like it hurts
because we know that the weekend is here
but we just can't seem to feel it.
Today we are sick
and nobody notices because our noses aren't running
we aren't openly bleeding in front of the one's we love
we do it in secret
just in case they ever catch us.
Today, we wanted them to catch us.
Stick out their hands
like a safety net
but it doesn't matter what height we fall from
because bones hitting bones
like a head on car collision
will never feel like warm sheets
blanketing our bodies
but we can't help but wonder
if the sheet they will cover us with
after they find us
will be warm too.
Today we are tired of being sick
tired of waking up looking like police chalk lines
tired of walking into the therapy rooms
like they are our parish
but we're too afraid God might smite us on the way in.
We shouldn't have to flinch
when certain words are said
that pull us back loading gun
but are too weak to pull the trigger.
Today WE are the triggered,
the empty promise of tomorrow being filled
with another prescription
another drink
another list of second hand hope
coming from someone who is probably
still trying to remember what it says.
We would rather tiptoe between eggshells
and take our time
than let you know we are struggling.
We are STRUGGLING.
And it makes us so very tired.
So today I am tired
and I will tell you that
instead of reminding you
that every day I am sick.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 3:28 PM UTC
1
From all the rest I single out you, having a message for you:
You are to die—Let others tell you what they please, I cannot prevaricate,
I am exact and merciless, but I love you—There is no escape for you.
Softly I lay my right hand upon you—you just feel it,
I do not argue—I bend my head close, and half envelope it,
I sit quietly by—I remain faithful,
I am more than nurse, more than parent or neighbor,
I absolve you from all except yourself, spiritual, bodily—that is eternal—you yourself will surely escape,
The corpse you will leave will be but excrementitious.
2
The sun bursts through in unlooked-for directions!
Strong thoughts fill you, and confidence—you smile!
You forget you are sick, as I forget you are sick,
You do not see the medicines—you do not mind the weeping friends—I am with you,
I exclude others from you—there is nothing to be commiserated,
I do not commiserate—I congratulate you.
2.8k
When I heard at the close of the day how my name
had been receiv’d with plaudits in the capitol, still
it was not a happy night for me that follow’d;
And else, when I carous’d, or when my plans were accomplish’d,
still I was not happy;
But the day when I rose at dawn from the bed of perfect health,
refresh’d, singing, inhaling the ripe breath of autumn,
When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and disappear
in the morning light,
When I wander’d alone over the beach, and ********** bathed,
laughing with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise,
And when I thought how my dear friend, my lover, was on his way
coming, O then I was happy;
O then each breath tasted sweeter—and all that day my food
nourish’d me more—and the beautiful day pass’d well,
And the next came with equal joy—and with the next, at evening,
came my friend;
And that night, while all was still, I heard the waters roll slowly
continually up the shores,
I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands, as directed to me,
whispering, to congratulate me,
For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover
in the cool night,
In the stillness, in the autumn moonbeams, his face was inclined
toward me,
And his arm lay lightly around my breast—and that night I was happy.
2.5k
sticks and stones
may break my bones
(but words will never hurt me)
people stare when we hold hands, they glare and point and scream in whispers behind cupped palms. sometimes they applaud or congratulate us, but i hate that, too; i don't want to be brave or strong or special i just want to kiss you without glancing left and right first. boys in parking lots shout and whistle, cars honk but WE'RE RUBBER YOU'RE GLUE, IT BOUNCES OFF US AND STICKS TO YOU so guess what- you're the ***** you're the ******* you're the freaks, you have to change the pronouns in your poetry, you are afraid of churches, you were listed in The Diagnostic And Statistical Manual Of Mental Disorders as a "sociopathic personality disturbance" until its seventh edition. if i had a nickel for every time a mother hurried a child away from us on the street, i might have enough money to sue one or two of you for harassment and hate.
s.h.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
What if I don't want
to get better? This hunger is the only thing
I feel anymore. You abandoned me,
so I sit on the bathroom
floor. I drown out my tears
with lyrics to songs we used
to scream out the car
window. While others congratulate
the damage this hunger has caused,
I obsess over the numbers that
light up whenever I step on
the scale. This is the only thing
I can control anymore. Since
you left.
Aug 31, 2020
Aug 31, 2020 at 10:48 PM UTC
On my graduation day,
I ripped down all the flimsy paper signs
hanging from the ceiling,
like Judd Nelson does on The Breakfast Club.
I just wanted to be that cool.
I also poured glitter into the water fountains
so it could reflect off the drinkers eyes,
as a reminder that even when you leave here
you can still shine.
I put my lock on backwards
so it would be a ***** for faculty to take off
my locker when I was gone.
I turned in my cap and gown inside out,
and wrote
"see you then"
on the tag right next to the size,
hoping someone might laugh when they read it
or think it was written by someone real wise
when really it was some moon-eyed girl who heard it
from a friend she knew long ago.
I did a donut in the parking lot
with my beat up Cherokee
who had been down all the back roads
too many nights in a row,
just because I wanted to.
I didn't wear underwear to the ceremony,
because it made me feel free
like I was finally going to be.
I also sketched every dream I had
on pieces of loose leaf
and threw them in random places throughout the school,
praying someone would find them
and maybe have them too.
I almost punched you,
for all the times I should have back in middle school
but I didn't want the principal to ask
why there was blood on my hands
when they handed me that fake diploma
that wouldn't really come in the mail
for weeks.
It was just a day to congratulate
all the **** you got away with as a kid,
and to remind you those days are over
it gets real
from this point on-
how comforting.
I left the stage with my tongue out,
hands raised saying goodbye
here I go
thanks for teaching me all the stuff,
I never really wanted to know.
And by the way,
I put 20 goldfish in the girl's lavatory toilets
so even when I left
there'd be something hard to get rid of
something you'd never forget-
like me
when I was gone.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 2:07 PM UTC
You're moving in with your girlfriend and many people have congratulated you.
You've asked me to do the same but that is something I can't and won't do.
I won't congratulate you because you and your girlfriend will be living in sin.
I won't condone premarital *** don't ask for my congratulations ever again.
Yes, I have old-fashioned morals that you consider to be out of date.
I won't congratulate you because you're doing something that God hates.
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 5:08 PM UTC
Hi how you doing
I’m doing fine, how about you
I’m okay, well I’m not really
Go on tell me about it, that’s what us ex’s are for.
It’s Joe.
Joe, that’ll be my replacement.
He doesn’t seem to want to do it.
When you say do it, do we mean ***
Yes, strange isn’t it.
I don’t know, I don’t know Joe.
He’s a man, what is there to know.
Why is he not chasing you around the house.
I don’t know, what happened to us.
You dumped me.
I know, but why.
Let me see now, oh yeah, you said you wanted a ring, marriage, children, house, and a pony. I said I didn’t like pony’s. You said that’s the last straw. I said, exactly, do you know how much straw costs. You said, shut up about the straw. I said, where would we put a pony. You said, shut the **** up about the pony, shut the **** up about the straw. Do you want to marry me or not. I sort of got lost for words, and by the time I got round to saying I would love to marry you, you were away with Joe.
You’re so full of crap, you ran a mile, actually you and that pony have a lot in common, you’re both mule headed.
You’re still with Joe, did he give you a pony.
No, he gave me something else.
Frustration
It’s not all about *** you know, he’s saving himself.
That’ll be the biggest coming this year then.
I don’t know why I phoned you, you do my head in.
You need to borrow me till Joe’s ready.
No I don’t, celibacy is the in thing now.
Well in that case, I just want to congratulate on your resolve.
Are you seeing anyone.
No, I’m going through a monking phase at the moment, new habit.
So we could meet as friends then.
I don’t see why not, a friend in need is a friend in need.
I think that’s a friend indeed.
Indeed it is friend.
Should I bring a bottle round.
That would be a friendly thing to do.
You won’t mention Pony’s will you.
I won’t mention Pony’s.
Okay, I’ll bring Joe with me.
What.
I need to send him back, the post office is on the way.
Ha ha, nice one.
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 4:43 AM UTC
*Its early
to celebrate
with a mood
to congratulate!
Might as well
say farewell
to our past memories
that we tell
Lets start within
before we begin
Forgive and forget
our sins of the past
and make a new wish
to a start that will last!
Lets Boast with joy
and Play with our toys
Lets not cry or sob
but keep our job
while we focus on
the New York ball DROP!!!*
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
**You want change the world
start from within
To change and make her better
now's time to begin
you want to see her clearer
look deep within...
Ain't better way to cut your coat
than using your cloth**
*what other way to cut your coat
than according to your cloth
why go on proclaiming love
yet all you do is loath
why preach forgiveness
while you keeping grudge and hate
to change the world
about yourself contemplate
those who greased their
are the one's you congratulate
lending best to the worst
taunting worst of the best
you give a test
you've failed yourself
dish out weapons
and expect to be safe
poisoned this dough of humanity
and you call yourself a chef
so if*
**you want to change the world
start from within
to change and make her better
now's time to begin
you want to see her clearer
look deep within
ain't better way to cut your coat
than using your cloth**
*you want to stop the drugs
you gotta stop the dealer
to stop this corruption
truth should be your pillar
so sick a world
Jah should be your healer
work it like you talk
walk your talk
don't put down your ***
and keep saying you're broke
Rasta never laughs
at such a joke
don't give up
even when twixt
a hard place and a rock
you can change the world
if you act your word*
**you want to change your world
start from within
to change and make her better
now's time to begin
you want to see her clearer
look deep within
ain't better way to cut your coat
than using your cloth**
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 4:16 AM UTC
I stepped in the shower today and
Let the hot water burn my body
As it trickled down my newly tanned skin.
I closed my eyes and let it
Wash my mascara away.
I thought about now
How wonderful, and peaceful,
And easy things are.
I thought about summer..
You're spinning me around in the water and
Softly kissing my neck;
We sit around blazing orange fires
And congratulate each other on the perfectionism
Of our s'mores.
But soon, September will come
A tidal wave of schoolwork,
Two and a half hours of driving,
And late-night Skype calls,
Are heading our way.
Jealousy and questioning
Are almost guaranteed to become abundant.
It won't be easy,
And I can't promise anything
Besides;
I'll try my best
For you
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
there is someone on the other side of that camera
watching you
and if they can read your body language
(*bottom lip in mouth, hands ******* an oversized shirt*)
then they can also read everything else
(hair twisted and knotted around itself, tie hanging haphazardly off your neck as you clutch at the pack of cigarettes in your pocket)
you have a hard time hiding these things
it's not that you hadn't enjoyed it, per say
trading ******** in the men's bathroom
back pressed flush against the grimy stall
it's just that you had somehow imagined *** with the man you loved
to be a little more...
glamorous
at night, with the light off, lying next to a warm body
hands that are trying to get into your boxers
you don't push him away
because even though you want to
he's your lover
and you feel like you're supposed to let him
so you do
and when you go to work the next day,
neck and collarbones lined with bruises,
you try to tell yourself
that you enjoyed it
you fail at that
when your co-workers ask you what's wrong
you shrug them off, and tell yourself that you should be blushing
when they congratulate you on finally getting some
it's not that you don't like it, you tell yourself
as you **** him off in the shower at 7 in the morning
it's just that you're too tired to appreciate what's going on
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
you will know she is a poetess
if she likes to wear long-sleeves
long-sleeves that hide the scars
long-sleeves that hold her bruised arms together
long-sleeves with a slit near the shoulder
where she tried to wear her heart
(but poured it out in ink instead)
she will have long hair
or walk like she does
because hair is memory
cutting it is like erasing yesterday's you
restyling it is like recreating you.
her hair will have leaves in it
and leftover twine
from the flower crown she wears
or if she is the daring kind
her hair will have silverdust
(proof of how close her words
got her to the moon)
if she smiles and laughs
and never shows pain
she is a poetess
because a poetess writes her hurt down
in free verses and half-finished sonnets
and she cries not on a boy's shoulder
but on paper where her tears are caught by
the swooping syllables and dauntless denotations
making her words come alive
(because where there is water, there is life)
if you meet a person and assume she is a poetess
check first her palms
(if she will show them to you)
they must show no sign of ink
(for a poetess is sometimes secretive)
no, you must be able to trace the constellations
along the creases of her palm
smell the rocket smoke
and see the nebulae dotting her flesh
where she managed to catch stars.
congratulate her
and maybe, she will lift the hem
of her long pearl blue skirt
and show you the wings on her ankles
and if you're lucky, she will tell you story
upon story
upon story.
if you are able to tell a poetess from a person
and you find her,
keep her.
keep her close to where
the drums of your soul beat from
keep her next to your dreams of sailing and pink seas
keep her in the mental list you keep
of people you will never, ever leave
(and she will keep you, too)
when she dies,
wrap her body in a white Ilocos blanket.
use no coffin.
let the earth swallow her up
(but don't let it swallow her words)
tend to the fire she left you
plan to set out on a quest
to look
for other word-weavers
because it is impossible to live without
these storytellers
then go back to her writing desk
touch the last thing she held
and look for a hole
a false drawer
a hidden key
anything that keeps.
and i promise you,
you will find
more poems.
and if you spread each page out on the floor
its letters will rearrange
and form your name
and point you to a poem hidden
in a pocket she sewed inside her coat
and the first line will read,
"how to tell if she is a poetess"
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 1:15 PM UTC