"converting" poems
I see you, monster...
In your sockets bore dead, dark eyes
They hold the blackest of stares
Nebulous swirling pits of demise
Thin lips would spout the most sibilant of hisses
Every so often would curl into a snarl
Dry and chapped, almost unworthy of kisses
Large, rough snout, jutting out like a crag
You sniff around tirelessly for easy targets
Preying on the unsuspecting minds of those under your flag
Tapering chin, sprouting strands of coarse hair
Unkempt and gritty from your last meal
Decaying teeth, crooked due to little to no care
Your face is cratered; tales of trying adolescent years
Wearing a face only a mother could love
Expressionless but it screams out your fears
Ugly jointed limbs that grew out of sync
Disproportionate, misshapen, grotesque
Little noggin with sparse hair, packed within, a brain that thinks
I hear you, monster...
As you stalk your sleepless nights
Nocturnal ambience be your playground
Lurking in the dark; places with no light
Bulky, heavy feet but deft and silent
Can barely notice when you're up and about
As if cloaked yourself stealthy, with steps ever transient
Respire you do, exhaling breaths so gnarly
Ingesting good air, converting into fervid, loathsome notions
With which you paint a portrait so ghastly
I feel you monster...
Deep within the recesses of my heart
Destroying and distorting all that was pure
Testing my will till I should fall apart
You're but the twisted manifestation of conscience
Feeding on my trials and nurturing them into vile abominations
I despise that of you but I seem to have developed dependence
I see you, monster...
You're horrid and beastly, an embodiment of absolute horror
I await the day that you would finally dissolve
For I am weary of seeing you staring back in the mirror
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
look at me
i'm growing
& blooming
my mind is
expansive
encompassing
the light
the dark
converting them
to energy
to fuel
my dreams
through
a process
called
"Photosynthesis"
Sep 12, 2009
Sep 12, 2009 at 4:11 PM UTC
I wonder if you've noticed,
I'm becoming less appealing,
Our conversations are getting very...
Very, boring...
And I wonder if you've noticed,
That I'm becoming less appealing.
You can tell me,
I didn't meant to approach you,
It was a decision made in a split second,
And it seems like my heart's voice was louder than my brain's then:
I'm being honest,
My chest was about to explode,
My heart was a ticking time bomb
And I could only disarm it by giving it a voice,
Converting its electric impulses into sound waves.
But now,
It's been a while since then,
And,
We're drifting apart...
I haven't told you that I nicknamed you zebra because of that cute black and white shirt you had on...
Because,
I'm scared that would just trigger the slow end of our...
Our?!
I mean,
It will make our friendship awkward.
I told my friends I don't like you,
But apparently you like me -
But, I just have a question,
After getting to know me -
Ummm... Have I lost my charms,
Or are you still googly-eyed over the stupid fifteen year old boy that nearly tripped over his own words as he uttered, "You're very pretty"?
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 2:40 PM UTC
some poetries
are not yet
conveyed into words;
they're still
felt by the heart,
and the mind
is still fathoming
those sentiments,
before finally
converting them
into words.
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 11:44 AM UTC
Discoboli of African poetry has now sparked above aphasia
The aphasic silence today breaks eardrums with cacophony
Of the world audience in the by standing duty of workshop tubes,
Executing poetic experiment on the origin of **** poeticus
To link the archaic baboonish proteins to the black chimpanzee
Cradling African man, the sire of all and their poetry.
That when the Chimpanzee blood we poured
Into the African veins of vena cava and aorta,
Feeding the heart with viscosity of nutrition,
And the Chimpanzee blood fell into deadly
Tomperousness like Shakespearean impetuosity
Once seen in Romeo and Juliet, giving timely Birth
To untimely half the yellow Sun
That juxtaposed planet of poetry
Behind the star of tribe as a priority
Condemning to stark oblivion all the fated,
in full uniform of tribal dimunitions, or mimesis.
Ever predated on when tribes form nations.
A time to try the chimpanzee blood in the veins
Of white humanity, battling cynosure
Historically evinced in Antony and his father,
Or Tybalt and Mercurial of mercutio,
Or Macbeth and counterparts
Or Hamlet the Danish and the inheritors of his mother,
As the white blood cells of the white blood,
Militantly attack the white corpuscles
Of the misfortunate chimpanzee,
Converting the later into
A chewer of misfortune.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 11:55 AM UTC
angry men, get more done, but angry men die very young
you see my dad was always getting angry, nobody knows why he did
you see he was waiting for the perfect time to stop treating me like a kid
you see dad was angry at me because i didn’t clean my computer table
and he also was angry at me for converting to the cindrella cleaning system
you see angry men get things done, but they also die very young, dad was young, at age 75
i miss his helpful side, by helping me understand the computer
like art colony, writers cafe, and hello poetry and FACEBOOK, man
you see i hated dads frown, you see angry people die very young
i am not one of those angry people, that is why i am frustrated
because people are trying to push my nice side up to space
and my evil side i want to get rid of, cause, i am not shy to look ********
but i am a complete normie, only nerds are angry, very angry nerds
they will die very young, very very young
i hated my dads angriness, cause he hyped me up
i knew dad would die first, because he show his happy side like me
i am not living in the past for anyone
dad was angry, he helped me with the computer, i say thanks to the paranormal dad
but i still thought that dad was a cranky man
hail to the yobbos the yobbos the yobbos
hail to the yobbos and the old cranky dad
i know dad isn’t teasing, but he is an old cranky dad
i am the happiest dude in canberra, happier than anyone
i help the poor, i help the poor
an old cranky dad sits there up on cloud 9 wanting
pat has powers to take old hags out of people
old hags who are trying to be cool kids
ANGRY MEN GET THINGS DONE, BUT THEY DIE YOUNG LIKE DAD
ANGRY MEN GET THINGS DONE, BUT THEY DIE YOUNG LIKE DAD
ANGRY MEN GET THINGS DONE, BUT THEY DIE YOUNG LIKE DAD
i am a cool young dude, i have a lot of fun
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 5:03 AM UTC
.
•
be
-hold
my sole
prized instru-
ment of choice•
let it bear the wei-
ght of my unspoken
voice•in the dead of
the silent night•i'll let
loose my heart so it co-
uld take flight•consoli-
dating all that i think•
and...converting them
into the blackest ink•
only then freely......it
would spill•down
the stem and
to the nib
of my
fea
the
red
qui
ll
•
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 10:57 AM UTC
red torii gates separate the sacred
engraved with kana names
I step on the stone tiles
reinvent myself by praying
to every god I have never believed in
donating all the coins I have to shrines
the omamori will protect me
with pretty ribbons, silk, and wood
their birds guide to understanding
converting lies into truths before me
their paper songs a tender kindness
and there is courage within me
even as my voice turns to melody
my words spill out a tune
the temple walls hum
a chorus of veracity, louder
I have come to realize the importance
of moral authenticity within me
your gracious decency, divine
delicate gentleness with my fragility
from shattered pieces I rebuild
recollect myself and rise stronger
the sakura blossoms melt
the tide rises up the torii
compelled by a cold moon
wooden birds take flight away
and I return solid and true
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 1:27 AM UTC
Life and its shade
canvased by god
God made it beautiful
But we are
adding shades of greys and black
enveloping the sky
turning fog into smog
Putting solute
in water bodies
that are not dispersible
making it turbid
mislaying its transparency
water is not pure anymore
Deforestation
converting the forest
into the barren land
beautiful landscapes are mechanized
by man
buildings and more building
watching stars sounds bookish
nature is losing its charm
Emotions are blowing over
relationships changing
accepting changes
changing our own self
mirrors are showing
someone else image
and asking you
who you are?
Mar 10, 2011
Mar 10, 2011 at 12:50 AM UTC
Your Style Can Not Dominate
Not Being Crude, Not Spreading Hate
I'm Just Spreading The Word, Going To Radiate
Even Without It, You'd Probably Meet Your Fate
Taking You Down Has Become My Mission
Going To Split Your Mind, Sanity Fission
And Your World In Two, Territorial Division
I'm Coming At You With Insane Precision
Not Going To Rush, Going To Be Tactical
Make Sure My Plans Are 100% Practical
Attacking Aimlessly Would Be Impractical
Give My People A Show, Theatrical
I'm Flawless, You're Flawed
When People Hear My Words, They Applaud
When They Hear yours? They Call The Firing Squad
I Don't Think Inside The Box, I Think Abroad
I'm Guessing By Now You Must Be Hurting
You Coming To Me, Asking For Some Kind Of Converting
The Topic Kills You, You're Diverting
To You. I'm Quite Alerting
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 8:51 AM UTC
Oh mighty powerhouse and largest gland
Snug in the abdominal cavity
Though few thy function fully understand
Should praise thee with the utmost gravity
Three pounds thy weight, but worth thy weight in gold
Four precious lobes through portal fissure fed
Tiny lobules in hexagonal mould
Each one formed by cuboidal cells widespread
Arranged in columns round a central aisle
Converting glucose into glycogen
Form plasma proteins and essential bile,
A, D, prothrombin and fibrinogen
De-aminates the protein that we eat
De-saturates the fat, produces heat
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
It’s the morning after the last heart session
Eyes open but brain still crackling with static and white noise
When I try it again
Hoping to get pen to paper
Before consciousness can recover sufficiently to intervene
And proffer pretty syntax to the poem
Hold the mind blank
And stack the words in rows of green growth
Like garden beds
That only need time and attention to bear fruit
Let truth come from some other place
Than reason or left brain
Or the extensive vocabulary
Meticulously indexed in the cranial cavity
Somewhere near the brain stem
Or maybe in the DNA
As C, T, G, and A
Storing data like binary only twice as complex
The recall mechanism operating in the darkness of our comprehension
Apprehension of its failure threatening to leave the poem unfinished
Unillustrated
Uncalibrated
Un-fact checked
Like that matters somehow
Like the facts are important in art
Like the right brain has no sense of propriety
Just as surely as the heart tells lies in gibberish
A chattering maelstrom of syllables in a cyclonic vacuum
And yet somehow the heart speaks with perfect clarity
Uncluttered rhythm
Timing and flow
So you know there is more going on here than we fully understand
Lend a hand to help decipher the intentions of a part of yourself wayward from the rest of you
Leading to a collapse of the ego
And a blurring of the lines between you and I
Turning discrete data into continuous
On the fly
On the run
Under sun and and moon and sky
Until the day that even death fails to be discrete
Or even an event any more important than a fire
Converting energy from one form to another
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 7:42 PM UTC
I, like the pendulum
Swing from one extreme
To the polar opposite
Before coming to a conclusive rest in the center
The intensity of applied force
Determines the height of my emotion
But the outcome is the same,
With every swing, I come down
Kinetic converting to potential energy
Until I am frozen in time, dead center
An emotional ground state
Completely still in my own calmness
Where I find that the initial force
Of what troubled me
Was nothing but people
Performing an experiment
To prove a point to themselves
That they could rouse me
I, like the pendulum
Will eventually come
To a complete stop
Alone in my stillness
Breathless and apathetic to my surroundings
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 5:19 PM UTC
NO OFFENCE MEANT TO ANYONE.
JUST WORD PLAY.
Many thoughts of saviours.
Different deities.
Varied idols.
Doctrines unique,
Sometimes similar.
Holy books.
Different sects, yes I said sects.
Buddhists, Mormons, Muslims too,
Hindus, Jews and Rastafarians.
Pass the spliff, that one miffs me.
Too name but only one or two.
Garlands or flowers.
Holy cows.
Churches and temples.
Mosques and mystic synagogues.
Or even halls perpetuating to the Kingdom.
Gis' us a pint of blood or not.
Definitely not vampires,oops I forgot.
"Cup of tea, love?"
Welcome to the Mormons.
Latter day saints?
Jesus Christ, what a choice.
My explanation, I'm agnostic.
But, never on a Sunday.
I don't want converting.
(C) LIVVI
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 7:28 PM UTC
Acknowledge the drum's whisper.
Yield to its velvet
Nudge. Cut a slow air-
Curve. Then dip (hip to hip):
Sway, swing, pedantically
Poise. Now recover,
Converting the coda
To prelude of sway-swing-
Recover.
Acknowledge
The drum-crack's alacrity -
Acrid exactitude -
Catch it, then slacken,
Then catch as cat catches
Rat. Trace your graph:
Loop, ellipse. Skirt an air-wall
To bend it and break it -
Thus - so -
As the drum speaks!
2.8k
An endless waterfall of emptiness
leave her, love her, hurt her, she does not care
she longs to care but she is covered and bundled in a thick quilt that poisons her everything with “nothing”
something is missing, the tears are missing
she knew she would be okay because of the streams that would flow furiously down her cotton felt rosy cheeks
she knew she would be okay because of the tender most voluntary light tears dancing gracefully across the marbled floor that was her face
but now,
she does not know if she will be okay because of the dessert like dryness of her eyes,
and the solitude her cheeks and lips have felt for quite some time now
something is missing, she is missing
she has been looking for what seems like a million years all over her now pitch black universe for herself
she had colors
she had stars, moons, millions of suns and planets within her
now the color black is the mere most perfect description of everything she has become
the battle between deciding what to feel out of all that she felt is over
she feels as an invisible soul that has passed from our physical world feels;
anger, rage because he is truly incapable of touching those who he stands infront of all day, he cannot do anything about the fact that he is invisible and non existent to all those he wishes to be noticed by
she feels anger, rage because she finds herself incapable of touching her emotions
frustration because tears no longer dance across her face
she feels invisible to her reflection in the mirror because she remembers the image of a person
an actually person
who is able to cry when sad and smile when happy
she is no longer able to show any physical emotion so she sees no reflection
a thick black fog invades her physical body and soul crawling through her eye sockets, her mouth, ears ,nostrils, and pours
it invades her psyche with all its blackness and abducts all the stars, moons many suns, and planets converting her inner universe into endless caves made of millions of tunnels that make love with emptiness and darkness
she has become a maze
beautifully numb, impatiently lost, sedated by absence
she is me, and i,
have been kissed by apathy.
paralyzing me and incapacitating me from myself is what this beautiful demon has done to me
she touched my lips and altered my thoughts
persuaded me into the belief that she would protect me
she told me that if i did not feel i would not hurt
at the time that i fell in love with her i was in a state where i would of taken my life just to end all feelings and confusion within me
she offered her anesthetic kiss,
i took it
as she relentlessly took over me i started to realize…
now i fear it be to late
i know the end to this maze will be the gate to my stars, my moons, my many suns, and planets
and i will run for what now seems an eternity
but i will not give up on my universe
j.e
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 2:31 PM UTC
The Hour Glass represents us. Confused how.. Let me elaborate it to you.
You do see the sand that is seeping slowly off the orifice between the two bowls..
That sand shows the flow of love from ur heart to mine. But wen the flow stops. U just have to revert the glass and u vl see that Ur love is not just taken in, it is adored, processed, felt. Its warmth and the care that is hidden in it is scrutinized. And then it flows back into u.
This is the way we are. Due to this our love always wins from our fights.
U widout any selfishness and greed give me all that u ve got inside u, planting banyan trees of love to make it live for years.
And here, Its me, trying to provide the carbon dioxide and water for helping the tree to grow and feel the fresh oxygen, extracting each amount and inhaling it wid full greed. This greed, Which Comes like a reflex only fr u, is not a devil's one but a Loving one. How can it be possible to share u wid anyone else in the whole world. I cant help it. I cant share u. And I am proud of being greedy fr u.
This sand which keeps on seeping consists of all memories stored in it about us.
All of them, Staring wild eyes with the rays of Innocent Infatuation, Then the seed of frndship that we planted (Actually u planted), And then My extravagant feelings converting that seed of frndship directly into a plant of love, Then the rains and the hot sun that the plant faced between these paceful yrs we were together, Then the Era of wisdom that attacked me and made me construct a good shelter to protect this plant from heavy rains and hot burning rays of rageful sun..
All these memories. That we lived together. Which we now remember and smile, sometyms cry and sometyms even laugh after crying. And I promise to give u more, good, to be confident, fresh and best memories in this lyf ahead so that while taking our last breath these wud give u the best smile u ever had in ur lyf.
And if this hourglass, ever, accidently or unfortunately breaks, dont be sad. cuz these memories are stored in every pinch of the sand it contains not the outer body that consists it.
Love You
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC
And it comes with some pain the the bullies from our childhood were a result of social Darwinism,
at least in the sense of the state, where capitalism reigns and the most ruthless and powerful win all the freedom.
Us cowards were too scared of violence to do anything about it. The teachers barred us from bullying, and with emotion they punished bullies, when they could be caught. Punish the bullies so they will develop the slavish obedience not to harm their peers, so in the future they will merely quietly compete up the ladder and sigh at the impossibility of their ladder extending past their bully bosses. If you want to have real freedom and fortune in this life, I hope you never stopped being a bullying child. I, like most children, bought the obedience and swallowed it like morning pills. In rows I sat, I pledged to red white and blue, and while the bullies slapped our heads, we kept our retaliation to unified grumbling, yet in a school there is no strength in numbers, besides the strength of harmonizing our slavish sighs. It’s just like at work under our bully bosses. The strength of the individual is denied in a school, so we can work like a cog, working hard at our shape to fit best into the machine.
The bully notices the competition early on and acts hard, swift, and originally. For this is how wars are won. But us slaves have our way of converting the bully, we have numbers on our side, yet little strength. Out of weakness we tell the bully that they are an ill shaped cog, and they will never be able to help the machine if they keep their powerful aggression. Conversion to slaves may occur, or a half convert is created who is too deluded with their new illness, so they can do little physical harm to anyone anymore.
And all without a drop of blood. We go to work secretly competing with each other, in order to buy the system’s validity at the end of the week. And we rip each other‘s teeth out in our dreams
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 11:39 PM UTC
the wine of family communion
washes me clean inside,
converting my potential
to the tenets of family dogma.
the bread fills me, expanding,
to nourish me out of my image
into theirs:
no questions,
no discussion,
no rebellion,
no independence,
no chance,
no hope,
trained up to become
a member of good standing
of the Church of Wilson.
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 3:52 PM UTC
You were crying
Howling
Upset
Depressed
Maybe
And repeteadly
Blamed me for it
Now its enough
I can't take it anymore
I blame you
I blame you
For the times i hit myself
And you looked away.
I blame you
For the times i were
On my knees begging
You not to go
But you left.
I blame you
For the days I
Cried so much
That no tears were left to shed.
I blame you
For all the pain
I felt in my chest.
I blame you
For closing me
Up into a nutshell.
I blame you
For stealing my
Confidence and self respect.
I blame you
For driving me insane
And all the headaches.
I blame you
For not letting me be myself
And converting me
Into a mannequin.
I blame you
For ripping me apart
And my soul.
But whats the point of blaming you
Doesnt bring me back or you
Its just a game where we just blame.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 3:29 AM UTC
a point when u feel abandoned by the people around u
a point when u loose it but u can't show it
a point when u wanna run away but u can't
what is your fault when the circumstances change
u didn't provoke someone to make them happen
the one who faces it is "U"
who decides that what is right n what is wrong
when people call u manipulative
don't jst feel bad
but kick that person out of our life
they don't deserve u
y shoud u pay for what others do
u make people trust u
u make people rely on u
u sacrifice ur comfort zone for them
but in the whole instance what did the other guy do?
the answer must be nothing
people face it
people ignore it
n when u try to clarify it out
they call u manipulative
a fresh start is nothing but a fake one
m going out not with a fresh start
but with a new one
going to people who genuinely care about me
who wanna be with me
unlike others who call u stubborn n manipulative jsst to protect their standard
m not changing
instead i m jsst converting into a new one
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 6:05 AM UTC
what is this body but a vessel to you?
carrying your what if's and
your unborn children
a fixture
to *****
This body is but
curves that turn
and cut your wit
dim forest
that you trail-blaze
converting rolling hills
to farmland
unearthing soil,
to dig your pleasure graves.
what is this body to you?
But two bouncing *******
under a cotton summer dress?
what is this body but lips spread wide
open, teasing
a flash of teeth?
does it make you break a sweat?
what is this body but your chess piece?
mantel piece
piece of ***
strip tease
arm-rest
a body
beside you
to look down upon
and fake a smile at
in photographs
what is this body to you
but a vase?
to fill with your complaints
to empty your sorrows into
to empty your ***** into
to let down
then help up
to coo over and
cry on
and cry on
and cry on
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 9:15 AM UTC
Hello all. I have been pretty busy with projects I've been working on.
I have been putting my poems up in PDF format and all of the new poems are available for download here:
http://deadbeatantihero.wixsite.com/thereisnothinghere
This website works best on a desktop. I tried accessing the website on my phone but some of the titles are buried within the other titles so I think it is best if you just access the website using a desktop. All you have to do is click the title that you want to read and it should automatically bring you directly to the PDF format of the works. You may also download them for free if you wish.
I am converting these works into PDF format with the intention to turn them into zines and chapbooks in the near future, given the right price and resource people to help me come up with the projects. Feel free and read away, all of the works are free and downloadable.
The website currently has 19 titles for you to read and download (if you want to, that is). Let me know if I could help you with anything!
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 2:50 PM UTC