"constructed" poems
Sit and watch
a version of a version
of self
constructed broken down
reconstructed
unstable
but I cannot change the color of my eyes
i can only shape the folds of my mind
i long to be my own god
to raise me from the cradle
to erase the lines
to write a new fable
as my story is told
so it will be
i will rewrite history
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 3:37 PM UTC
You may not have been birthed in the soil,
and granted,
you will not blossom
when spring melts winters wake
but inside of you
grows a thousand gardens
full of exploding stars.
You are of the earth
and your ashes
have been constructed with stardust,
and set free with the wind.
So you may not have a pretty face,
and your body may hold stories
of too many moonless nights alone.
But if you reach inside,
you will find a forest
for a ribcage
and a restless ocean heart.
So don't ever let anyone tell you
you are nothing.
You are a galaxy
holding a million different planets,
and my dear,
that is not nothing.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 8:33 PM UTC
It sounds ridiculous but only I feel productive when I'm doing nothing.
Sitting back, just relaxing.
Popping blue beans, burning bowls of green.
And just thinking.
Daydreaming about how things could have been.
How things could still be.
But how things will probably be.
Just close your eyes and let music be your guide.
Entire lives constructed and played out
in grand fashion. A world so detailed
I would rather get lost,
And never come back to this travesty of a society,
so raw and primal.
so human.
My world is so beautiful and yet so depressing
because it's what ours could be, but never will become.
Anything to distract me from this.
The 24 year old burnout grinding through school because there aren't many options left.
So where will I'll be in 5 years?
I wont.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 4:50 AM UTC
Her eye's were never quiet,
of her, the only thing I am sure,
is that the rebel in her, will never die,
she's the type of girl, that if you told not to do something,
she'd do it twice,
and take pictures.
I was constructed for her,
and she was molded for me.
I have a weakness for clever minds,
and honestly,
I never had a chance.
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 11:51 AM UTC
her smiles shines like diamonds at the bottom of a clear cool lake.
her eyes like hazel tulips fluttering in the wind while she dances to the beat of the drums constructed by her soul
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
Love that
She's older now,
she is more clever things don't seem
to bother.
She would shatter you
with a bit of her consciousness
while she scortches you with her intelligence.
She is the definition of sparkle, it's something that you constructed
Through the destruction, you once had started.
It no longer exists I displayed out loud I'm no longer your bih I'm out.
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 4:55 AM UTC
the bones were hard to give up,
they pushed out like daisies
caressed under the hounding
heart of a copper sun.
unbridled and undried they bore
zealous arrogance of themselves,
petals dripping ****** convictions
and vibrating like awful angels.
under cruel devices they tried to
soften my bones and mold thick skull
constructed of lackluster candles
on their last flame.
days passed like doctors and white nurses
examining old wires that pray tell
the routines, the stools, the teeth.
i am their Jesus, their Lazarus.
my hearse, my sheep keeper,
my pretty things,
i become the acrobat at the
finale, the last supper,
supplementing at the **** of my
recovery. i lay my skin down for all
of you to see: here is my breast!
my toad belly! my glass feet!
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC
The thing that once was yet could never be
I feel again welling inside of me
Thick oily smoke rises from my soul
Invading every pore, filling every hole
Where the me I'd constructed, had once taken hold
Compassion confined to an unknown place
As I grab your cheeks and lick your face
Bound to me by your own mind
Release from me what I dared not find
Your eyes tell me who you are
They betray your deepest scar
The ***** within is pulling faster
Begging kneeling bleeding, for her Master
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 12:26 AM UTC
*I was a princess.
Long before the burden of knowledge --
before the reality of life plunged itself deep into me.
Tea parties and *****
Gowns and pretty jewels,
Braids and long lashes,
We were the rulers of the kingdom.
Walls constructed of plastic kept us safe,
security from the barbarians that lurked outside.
A magic mirror that warped and bent from age,
from magic, to show your future,
which was often a short fat lady.
Thrones that swung back and forth,
so that her majesty does not bore herself.
We guarded our kingdom from the evil outside...
but we forgot to check within our walls.
At some age, we stopped guarding the plastic kingdom.
We stopped looking for the monsters outside --
realizing they were lurking inside of us...
whispering dark things.
Now Aurora is sleeping off a hangover --
that beautiful face streaked with wet mascara
maybe when she wakes up, everything will be better?
Ella is hiding from loan sharks,
wishing for a way out of the slums,
hoping a rich man will sweep her off her feet.
Ariel is running away from home
changing her identity for her new boyfriend,
desperate that no one will come between them.
Snow is sleeping with several men --
mommy issues ran her out of town,
now she's the walking herself to the abortion clinic.
Princesses we were.
Princesses we are.
Princesses we will be.*
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
we've been poisoned
with hopes and dreams
of "true love"
its hysterical
how naïve we are
we fell so hard
put ourselves on the line
for a poorly constructed ideology
you idiot
darling i'm such an idiot
to think there was good
in this world
to think there was a chance
that selfless love existed
ah, what a fool
to think marriage
was anything more
than a social norm
a convenience
that relationships
were actually based on anything
more than a false sense of
comfort and security
highschool kids
throwing away their future
bunch of immature children
tricked into thinking
that someone could make them whole
*"let's get married"
"let's run away"
"we're in loooove"*
we've poisoned our youth
love should be the last thing
on their mind
women giving up their dreams
men giving up their lives
for W H A T
the idea that
someone could keep them
from drowning
darling
oh darling
i wish that were true
but
w a k e u p
no one can save you
love is cursed.
we are cursed.
love,
in its own essence
does not exist
and i was such a fool
**such a ****** fool**
to think it lasts
i guess it just made me feel relaxed
to think that there was one part of my life
that could be just for me
i thought love was my escape
i'm holding up the world
i thought it would give me a break
rest my head
HAH
hysterical
i swear to God i'm in fits of laughter
believe in love?
ask the kid of messy divorce
ask the single mom with no idea where her baby daddy went
ask the girl with a broken heart
ask the boy who gives his all, in return for none
love
is
just
another
word
for
loss.
sorry to burst your bubble
but
your idea of "love"
doesn't exist
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC
Trying to find solace in the suburbs
when everything seemed superb
like that cookie-cutter,
picket fence,
faux fur mentality
they instill at the start
Just an infant with scars
He reached for her baby bump,
Then slammed it hard
onto the stairwell
She fell, wept, and held
That lil princess
and prayed she'd never have the same hell
All grown up. Alive and well
shes got different demons
different intricate cells
It's been said
she is special she is awake
But, in many ways
She is the same
As that ANGEL who carried her 23 years ago
That's debt I'll always owe
A gift I'll never own
Carefully Constructed
and Creatively Sewn
shoved a soul into that shell
That'll one day guide her back home
Shes got her mamas tough, yet gentle heart
her smile, brevity and love for art..
she can write her *** off
like her
the wrote and the writ
Yet she's plagued by guilt
every ******* minute
GUILT for the life that she'd been given
GUILT for each exhale emitted
She prays that God will have the sense
to go back in time and hit OMIT
(on all chapters even close to the word 'human'
there's GUILT for feeling guilty even more for despising your own )
"I must've slipped through the gate, admit it!
Or recruit another for your mission
regretfully, I must solicit
that I'm not fit for this position
I'm no hero
I'm the villain
If ya look close you'll see
I spit venom"
Mama walks in
smiles and says
"WE.
ARE.
WOMEN!"
"Betta recognize and
quit your bitchin'
as of today, you are living..
You are loved
You are safe
You are ************* winning
WARRIOR,
CREATOR,
QUEEN,
GODDESS,
INCARNATE..
We are strength & We are the faith
never to be broken
but we still stay brave
The Legend wont start
or end with you
Its a fight stretched out
through time
You will understand soon
No matter how much you ask
"WHY"
It wont stop circumstance
wont stop lies
wont stop suffering
and will NEVER compromise
Your in the way of the wave, child
This..... the secret to life
When in the way of the wave...
its only a matter of time
S0 if youre searching for solace
Will you promise
To memorize this line
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 3:54 AM UTC
A Red Ruby, if placed upon the chest, can melt through your rib cage and engulf your entire body with flames.
It's delicate appearance of a heart was purposely constructed that way, in order to desire with a fierce blaze.
Red Rubies were made to crystallize your eyes and make every single sensual thought behind them harden until they crack and find its way into your blood stream and into your love making.
Red Rubies are a euphoric gemstone stimulating your need to love and give into the desirable.
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 5:16 AM UTC
my clumsy limbs
held together with wet cement
taught rubber bands
struggle to bind my flesh
I am but a mess of unimportant matter
another aimless being to fill the space
unique for my twisted thoughts
hysterically pleading with a calm face
speaking warped words i do not mean
lips sealed like the lid on my boiling ***
dumping oppressed feeling into its contents
bubbling over sweetly burning my raw skin hot
blistered I hide behind my cotton disguise
my misshapen body covered in a gruesome sweat
sickening wounds throb for the sight of others
witness my plague of dry sobs and cigarettes
and so i shriek silently like my sister and father
hold my tongue saturated with sour emotion
my poorly constructed moth-eaten being
self sabotages in a desperate motion
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 10:48 AM UTC
The Royal lady's eyes behold.
The scene that is about to unfold.
The procession just outside Hawa Mahal.
She looks from one of he 953 windows.
The red and pink sand stone of the Mahal,
She feels from her toes.
She is Rajput by heart.
And inwardly thanks Maharaja Sawai Pratap Singh for this intricate piece of Art.
Constructed in 1799.
From it's windown,
The breeze flows;fresh and beingh.
Out there there are all kinds of people
Old. Young. Fancy. Simple.
They radiate happiness.
Mounted on elephants or barefoot,feeling blessed.
She smiles to herself.
And closes the Jharokha and feels excited as now,
To her friends,she has a story to tell.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
Strangers known
by shared room
Honey voiced , high cheek *****
no less, no more
Licorice words pounding
on a chest
scrambling to wrap fingers
around a single perfumed breath
Two days dragging on
pulled through mud
stuck in fog
seconds are hours too long
Then ringing came
answered by drops of syrup
pouring out a reply, yes!
drinking it in with big gulps.
Mirror reflects practiced hellos
swishing hair put in place
teeth and lips splitting
breaking through stone face
Pacing back and forth
frantic footsteps pounding
crushing carpet in a line
south, north, south, north
No ring, no change
red blushes fad grey
phone silent, gaze up
stare blank
Is the swooshing hair the wrong way?
Is the grin too toothy?
Is the face not constructed right?
Stood up and let down
sailor on a ship
already sunk and drifting
off the starboard bow
Stood up and let drown
by the honey voice
the high cheek bones
Failure in hindsight sighing
“I should have known
I should have known…”
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 3:31 AM UTC
Because he was the robin, see
I built him a birdhouse made of the fingernails I chipped from every time I was forced to button up my own flannel shirt
It was quite silly and awkward-looking
So it didn't bother me when he didn't want to live there
It would take a lot of fake smiles and wooden blinds to tolerate a habitation such as the one I constructed for him
So it didn't bother me when he didn't want to live there
When he told me he was making a nest I took a paring knife from the kitchen drawer
When he told me he was making a nest I gave him 10 inches of weave to (through) the twigs
When he told me there were lots of split ends and varied shades
I wasn't too hurt because it was true
And I knew he would use twisty ties from bread bags instead
Which were much more practical than 10 inches of lover's hair
I just couldn't understand why he didn't give it back
He misplaced it, he said
How can you misplace something I had (longed) for him
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 3:12 AM UTC
but have you noticed, have you noticed how all mental health problems
stem form a seemingly aether virus that attacks the pronoun category;
i mean with proper justifiable schizoids you will not hear of the nouns
being ransacked for an equation that equates itself to misnomers;
it's all categorised negation of ease within the framework of pronouns.
it's strange that philosophers stress the pronouns so much these days
and those countless prior, but why do mental health diseases
attack the pronouns and not the nouns? they attack the verbs
thoroughly, but prior to the verbs exposing an illness
the pronouns are attacked, so that many considering the singularity
of expressing thought are ill because of being forced into a plural expression
of thought: "voices." i find it hard to understand, but it's the reality,
the aether virus attacks the pronoun
on the backdrop of a king's casual expression / use
of pronouns, when a king casually says
of himself as omni or multi with one and we respectively;
so why are pronouns so weak and nouns so strong
that a tree cannot be a misnomer attaché of timber
and rock not a pillar, or mountain as the verb: mountaineering?
the pronoun category is weak from day one,
because it suggests photographic duck animation on the lip pursed
into a quack quack, but if we constructed thought
without knowledge prior, eating the fruit of knowledge
rather than the fruit of thought, using the starting point
of the genesis metaphor, it's sometimes a no brainer
to have weak thinking and strength in knowing,
for if there was strength in thinking and weakness in knowing,
i'd be the one chiseling these words in the ice age on a cavern wall.
so, given, that diseases such as the famed premature dementia
attack the pronouns but not the nouns the schizoid one
will convene life with: pizza is pizza and sunshine ray down the drain
clock the millionth dead parting of grasshoppers in decimals -
while man unto man lusts one man's parting in decimals,
but should dire said, part man with integers, and insects with decimals!
but still, in the terminology of a cartesian understanding of illness,
in that segregational aspect of things "sorted,"
why are mental illnesses tattooed in a weak pronoun usage
compared to a strength in other grammatical categories?
why are not mental illnesses ******* the life out of the nouns?
the nouns are intact, the pronouns attacked,
and the verbs chess piece the pawn from the casually speaking clown king
into a beast imprisoned, for while the pronouns are attacked
and the nouns left intact, the attack on pronouns expresses itself
fully in verbs of the never existent tact: with such magic
as to claim knock knock on plank is the same as knock knock on veneer.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
Lay perfectly still
and wait until the bass makes your face vibrate.
Mindfolds on in perfect darkness
feel the music start to bring you solace.
Body goes numb and with it the mind
sleep paralysis sets in try not to fight it.
Hallucinations so vivid,
a reality so lucid.
Let it overwhelm you or run the risk of losing it.
Get lost in a dream of your own design
carefully constructed behind your eyes.
Its a tall task if you want to build your own city,
Or feel the emptiness of space and experience infinity.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 2:20 PM UTC
I have not been anywhere,
done anything, thought anything,
and feel nothing.
At least,
that’s what my blank, plain-clothed
T-shirt would indicate to other people.
A man walking the earth with
no visible identity.
When I put on my Hawaiian shirt, however,
they believe my mind to be full of
pineapples, hula girls swinging softly in the
ukulele moonlight, palm fronds swaying
in the dacron, or is it rayon, ripples
of my baggy upper man.
Let others think what they might
of my images, or the lack of words
and logos.
My inner tag says that
I’m size “L” and that I’m made on
factory looms in China, that my buttons
are constructed to look like the
real thing–a round slice of bone or
perhaps ivory.
I am not so much anywhere on the
outside, even though there are places
I would like to go fling my few dollars.
Inside, however, I am lost,
pleasantly lost and hiding, within the
convenience of my unprinted shirt.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
Hi. Do you care enough to hear me whine?
I fear that you don’t see me
collecting dust in the dim corner of your room.
And while you stand and stare,
completely absorbed by your own despair,
I remain
ready to serve you
and your meaningless life.
I can clean your room, yet I can’t clean your mind
of the false reality exemplified by your kind.
We are similar though, you and I.
Wasting our time amassing, acquiring, accumulating.
Honestly, we’re mere specks of life,
surrendering to realities constructed by our minds.
Don’t you know that your beloved earthly pleasures
are one and the same as the ******* that I collect?
Hard-earned, elusive, temporal, disposable.
Its laughable how ignorant you are;
consumed by your own subliminal thoughts,
leaving you searching for the remnants of what is and what is not.
Can’t you see the fallacies present in your head?
Gleaming yet blinding, salient yet obscure.
Armed with benevolent promises
that ultimately leave you for dead.
Can’t you see that what you crave
will inevitably **** you down to your grave?
Incessantly coated with wondrous, tempting illusions
that disguise its true nature--garbage.
Garbage. Connect the dots, you fool.
Can’t you see that you and I are one and the same?
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 8:44 PM UTC
Diminutive in frame and stature
defines him not, but instead enhances the
brilliance of his smile’s shine.
The golden flakes of honesty in his warm brown eyes
covey one vice that is captivation.
They hold hostage your most destructive thoughts
to instantaneously
replace them with the best; of
joy, contentment, and love-the best of him.
His high cheek bones define a mouth
so perfectly constructed.
They rise and fall like oceans’ waves with
every gentle gesture.
He thinks of love as a pool of chances
and illogically
he dives into the hurt he’s found himself in once
twice, no wait, three times.
But still, he never falters to give “chance”
just one more chance to prove he’s done what’s right.
Secondary comes his needs, in light of someone else’s.
The thoughts, “too tired” or “too busy” does nothing for him because
if someone needs help, you help them undoubtedly.
I have seen the coat that once
cascaded on his back give warmth to one
who had no coat
or smile
or joy
or light.
And for that one he lowered his head
to ask God for a favor.
I met this guy, this “perfect” guy when innocence consumed me
and since that day we’ve been each other’s confidant and comforter.
My love towards him supersedes that of a friend or
the best of that.
The truest thing I know is that when everyone one else
disappears to the mundane norms of life,
he will be there with me to cut through
the silence with rolls of laughter.
At what? It does not matter.
Because when I’m with him and he’s with me
there is a “we” that is formed and that “we” is captivates me
An infinite truth is that I will never stop
loving this young man.
He keeps my heartbeat steady so I
must exclaim the best of
joy, contentment, and love-the best of him.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 4:25 AM UTC
the dark approaches as if it is an ineluctable storm
created by thoughts falling like dominoes
or explodes into existence in a breath
detonated by a word innocently spoken
an eclipse constructed of your fears
like locusts eating all the light
with hooks and claws they grasp the air
pulling it up from your lungs
fighting blind against attacks from every side
weapons fall from your trembling grasp
I still see you dimly, enveloped in despair
you no longer see me at all
I have become a phantom, intangible
dispersed into powerless anguish by your terror
my voice is only a murmur to you
a far-off echo, indistinct
defenses and barriers you have labored on
transform into spun glass latticework
shattering through them without knowing
shards left embedded in your skin
stumbling blindly in the darkness
you are swallowed whole into the void
once more you are ripped away
imprisoned in the Stygian, pitiless hole
the emptiness turns its gaze to me
mocking laughter blisters my flesh
I can only wait and call to you
how long till you return
to me
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 10:36 PM UTC
Looking back, memories distort.
Replace damaged nodes with something similar
Perhaps reconstructed
From previous set-up before
X and Y parameters Report
Step One:
Check patient notes to self
Re-calculate from de-constructed
Inject imagination
Respect self-defence mechanism
or immediate virus node termination
(a response attack organism)
Re-calibrate instruments awareness
Strip upgrade
Love version 4.1
Reboot only in emergency
Refer to install options
Error:
Temporal Lobe Anomaly
Virus detected
Internal nodes infected
Import Rejection version 3.2
and couple with
Lets Be Friends upgrade 1
(Advanced program)
Monitor assimilation
Danger!
Overheated components -
Re-inject Memory Node
Objective Hindsight applet.
Refer to Step One
It is now safe to shut down
Should you wish to.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 8:09 AM UTC
I was a flailing phoenix
Trapped underneath a waterfall
Unable to rise from the ashes
While being continuously extinguished
Until you constructed a dam
With the flotsam from my heart
I opened my wings and emitted light
Fearing waterfalls I took my fire flight
I was elated to have migrated
Where the weather was tropical
And the conditions seemed optimal
But your aggravating absence
Endeared an enigmatic essence
A vengeful apparition
That conjured rain
I desperately craved your protection from the elements
Until I noticed the precipitation was my infatuation
For you and the things you do
The things you build
Make rivers stay still
And the things you say
Make me regret being gay
Because you're a ******
You live in your exclusive dam
Your teeth are like cleavers
Gnawing on sacrificial lamb
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 7:12 AM UTC
I remember the first time
I felt panic, I
Had been raised in a beautifully-constructed world of my mother’s making where I could
Take my time and step from subject to subject like hopscotch or skipping rope because I wanted to know it all
Drinking it all in, soaking in knowledge like a bath
Learning everything there was to learn
Leaving no stone unturned
No one told me I couldn’t
Swirl my fingertips in acrylics, read books on horses having *** at age seven because I wanted to be a veterinarian, hit the soprano notes though I was an alto, crush dandelions into healing potions, create a world on a stage with crying child actors, nick cardboard boxes and clocks because I knew I could move time backwards
Then I grew up and
The grown-up world was not so forgiving
Examinations, papers, time clocks, meetings, expectations I could not meet with the excellence my soul craved
I can’t breathe
Fear had a choke-hold on my throat
My mouth would dry, then wet as my stomach swirled and groaned with nausea
My hands turned into ice picks
My heart screamed like a jackhammer in concrete
Every possible worst-case, best-case, win-win, lose-lose, lose-win scenario would rush and overthrow my amygdala like a union mob besieging an abusive factory that never closes, never lets them rest
I didn’t realize it was because the only way to do it all and be it all and hit every deadline and finish every task was to sacrifice perfection, to become average, mediocre
Assimilate
And I learned the truth
That that was all the world expected of me anyway
You see there is no patience for anything else in the real world
I can’t breathe
I have no emotion, only thought processes
Paralyzing, debilitating clash between suppressed desires to take my time, create, innovate, learn and the overwhelming need to
Focus, decide, move faster, work harder, be on time, be better, please everyone, be everything
Be nothing
To where the only choice is let go of that part of yourself or go insane
So I shed my skin like it was a sin I was leaving behind
Just to survive
Without the headaches, the heartbreak, ripping my hair out over stupid little mistakes
It’s taken this long to find it in my closet again
To not be afraid
Of the soul it takes to
Perfect
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 5:15 PM UTC