"damming" poems
today i
drank two cups of tea
and read a text from my mother
about my dying great uncle
and thought about damming up the ocean in my eyes
but it had other plans
and today i
am sorry that i am cut off from half my family
sorry that my precious, dying great uncle
thinks that i hate him
because of my mother
and today i
am writing a ******* email
to tell him otherwise
before he
dies
he will not die
in hate
**** you,
mom.
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 6:47 PM UTC
Time’s up
Times up!
Hollywood says,
glad for sordid Weinstein
for setting up the stage..,
but, please do explain
that there’s a sitting President
who publicly claimed
to grabbing women’s *****
all because he can!
Times up!
but, the script has not been reversed,
the discourse dies a little
every time a women’s story
is subjected to shame.
Time’s up, for who, I ask?
When only the story of the powerful
is being told!
Who will play the little girl
who’s innocence got taken away?
When Barbie is still playing doctor with Ken,
yet no one says, Ken is a grown up man!
Who’s playing the story of the women
who can’t report her husband for ****
How can he **** her? She belongs to him!
Time’s up, I wonder when!
When time is a concept we don’t understand...
and ****** someone gives you
five months in the can?
Time’s up, but who will play the story?
When our original sin starts with parents
who had *** with their offspring’s!!
Shiit, Adam and Eve...
you really are dammed,
damming us to perpetual violence
to the very ones we give birth!!
Time’s up! It’s really inspiring.
I hope that legislatively
it creates an impact.
I hope parents all over the earth
begin to openly talk to their children
about molestation and ****
We all know the math...
90% of all **** is perpetuated by someone
you’ve already met!
Time’s up!
The phone’s ringing....
in the time I wrote this script,
someone else was already *****
LeydisProse
1/7/2018
https://m.facebook.com/LeydisProse/
#timesup **** #metoo #notonemore
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 8:36 PM UTC
It's not deception,
but it, I cannot believe.
These truths transmitting,
time permitting,
will crush me flat.
I'm not sure what to think,
in the fact's bull-rush.
Screaming out.
Damming it to be,
cardboard scenery.
In sincere
secrecy.
With a dash of nothing,
spicing the world.
Give me a kiss; no,
give me a twirl.
Splicing the word-weary
and thought-Leery.
Such fresh ********
Screaming out.
Damming it to be,
cardboard scenery.
In sincere
secrecy.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 7:14 PM UTC
Going down,
my knees hit first,
splitting old scars,
and spilling more blood....
Every side touched by slow quicksand on cold toes.
The virus rages on.
Being scared to write means something,
damming up words that are my body
denies sweet breath
to parts that need the most to breathe.
My fetus universe
flashes red and gold
on the walls
inside the cave...
Bust out that cage!
Shut off the light!
Wander through the street!
Back from the dead
again
I have a bone to pick...
Once wandering alone in darkness,
I was guided by my Jesus from some slinky, slimy nothing
to a tangible, ****** dream.
My Jesus and my Virgil
--eaten up too soon.
I had to walk through Hell alone
Now poised at my striking hour...
I have no more words.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 7:49 PM UTC
For every one in a star-crossed pair
For every Juliet with her eyes on Romeo
There’s one somber, solitary figure
That dreams of holding love close
I’ve been told that I’m a goddess
Something mentioned only yesterday
My dominion, then, must be love
Unrequited, every step of the way
Pretend like you know me
Pretend like you’re true
Pretend like you love me
And I’ll pretend that he’s you
Oh, the make-believe in every story
When love’s sight is suddenly cleared
The ones you find your head in hands
And smiling through your tears
One gets good at changing the subject
And quickly damming up the seas
When another questions and worries
As to why, at night, you bleed
Pretend like you know me
Pretend like you’re true
Pretend like you love me
And I’ll pretend that he’s you
The pain is quiet, you toss and turn
And demons plague until you can’t sleep
In the stillness is a whisper,
’Take me away to fields of wheat.’
Rejection, at length, gets cumbersome
Hill after hill on a lonely trail
While strong eyes can bear the stares
The heart, inside, is frail
So pretend you can smile
Pretend you’re not blue
Pretend that you don’t care
And I’ll pretend I love you
Feb 11, 2011
Feb 11, 2011 at 1:26 PM UTC
How can it be that when ever I can't see you
I'm stuck so empty. **** do you even know?
I'm damming up a waterfall but I can feel the pressure building...
and I fight it, I fight it so hard and I don't even know why.
Logs come loose, currents push through, leaking
I pull my head down, using my curls as leverage to keep my face hidden.
Hidden away from these four walls, these four hovering beings.
The only witnesses. Counting my tears, muffling my sobs, but you don't know.
No one really does.
These walls unmoving, silent, still with eggshell paint, cannot comfort me. Cannot hold me. Cannot tell me that I am not a worthless person, that these feelings will fade. These walls cannot take the blade off of my thighs, soak up this crimson shame before it stains the thin gauze that makes up who I am.
A simple stumble of my thoughts can send me tumbling into reality where I sit alone.
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 1:33 AM UTC
Now an annual autumnal literary festival visit
to our island redoubt,
the snow geese come honking down,
in linear formation
warning itinerant human beachcombers
of their arrival on the beach runways
of our sheltered island
This TripTik recommended diversion,
is a pleasure long anticipated by them,
seen as an intellectual rest stop,
with excellent sea snacks cuisined,
flying down the Eastern Seaboard
keeping Interstate 95 on their right,
an avian version of GPS
Our birds,
follow a minor route,
commencing in Nova Scotia,
the farthest north of all the species,
never making it to Mexico,
ending their travelogue in Georgia,
lest their true species be confused
with other kinds of Floridian snowbirds
Sit by my side they do,
one by one in assigned seats,
on the now scrawny grass blanket,
their attention span famously long,
unless a school of striped bass
seen on radar in the vicinity
I, on my Adirondack throne,
a poetry reading to intone,
with more-than-occasional audience input,
considered their right most fair
Critics one and all,
animated animal devotees of the arts,
unafraid to express their thoughts,
oft in unison or in
unharmonious John Cage
cacophonies of disagreement
Sadly, I only speak local seagull,
thus their effusive exege(e)ses and criticisms,
either damming or acclaim, indistinguishable,
their only "tell" is if
they stick around for
just one more...day...
That my poetry they did favor
was a conceit I feigned to believe,
loving their attention even if not deserved,
for in their service, and nature's too,
I am now trained to sit and wait,
a minor stitch in a famous tapestry,
for well I recall Milton's words:
*"God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best.
His state is kingly;
thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait."*
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 10:05 AM UTC
Wanna see how empty I can get.
I can leak out all feeling.
No nerves left.
I taste and stiff every person I see.
I cringe crunch the cartilage of every baby I meet.
Heartless and artless old codger.
No posture.
Cramming damming the spam filled sandwich,
of ancient architects.
The tall statue of an empty shell, old malt glass,
unfilled.
Spewed upon the face of mother earth leaving acid mildew.
Shower of rain with a pH of less than 7,
maybe to the negatives, raising havoc on the crop lands.
If my plants would be watered.
I would whole.
I could stand upon the ground lain staked like a scarecrow.
I wish the emptiness protected all that I loved.
I could forever be the watering can providing my molecules with spirits'
Dust.
The aluminum in my body.
Will calcify or solidify (whichever's easiest)
Spontaneously, to create the fluids of osmosifiying mechanical dilution,
Into greater things.
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 1:22 AM UTC
Fervency referring to effectuality as measured
by men,
I suppose. Positionally, top line.
Challenges are not all games,
all games are challenges.
That which he fears comes.
Anticipate war, teach your son to
access participation trope level
anticipatory experience
imagining dying
now
design a death that does not damage, eh,
no damming, no pile of useless hordes,
dammed to collect the flow
anticipating need
when need is non exist-ant.
Greedy gut.
Feb 3, 2021
Feb 3, 2021 at 4:28 PM UTC
It'll be alright by the lightening
it helps us walk like itself;
walking up through the ceiling window
of my flat
we link myth and flesh
amongst the cherub jokes and sinuous cloud,
hands shaking pulse in the concaves,
death dance and phoenix breeze,
the prayer and the wet
rolling down the slates
harmony in our butts, rolling the storm back, and watching it all
happen.
The night spills its last beer like weighted sweat.
The opera accepts our tickets and slices us down with gallous applause
Where do our limbs stop being the night?
They do not, so it seems, and spread the thunder out
from our one hand
to another;
the nails, and skull, of one, open
fist, retaken-
and driven up
from the worlds core, remedy in scent
the talent of our blood,
damming the poison, allowed to evolve
inside cell
and be another - celestial light, that not only drives the heard,
but is at home in the energy of waking
life.
The lightening passing down through gelatenous night clouds,
caring that there is only sense in the warmth of our mind, our synapse grace,
the float of our hands moving away from the globe,
un lapin mouvements de warren
farmer gathering his flock as the night moves
chain smoker watching you cook
another reason to storm the bellowing halls, one more toast to the sodden market,
brings the landscape to a halt, and strokes out its weariness as apes walk
the amazonian peaks, as the sunrise settles down
and into us; summits
made of nothing,
but the story of your day, all that makes a man
know
and remember
that yours
are always waiting
and are willed by things
that I will never know
completely, but walk like lightening;
creating,
when the storm comes.
Letting me know
it's all **** false,
if not
you.
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 4:21 PM UTC
I blink, a wrinkled fold of skin
Holding back and damming in
What's betrayed in my brown gaze.
A thoughtless instance, this womb-light instant
Punctuates the days
And the autumn ringed origins of two parallel rays.
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 12:34 PM UTC
i've really messed up
my whole life now f
a
l
t
e
ring
slowly each moment pushed
on my heart a l i t t l e h e a v i e r
waiting for it to ...BURST...
and blow us all p
U
^^^^
i just don't know what could've been done+
preventing a storm :
only works when you know
it's going to come, coME, COME!
-not- when you're in the eye
•
tOo tOnGuE tIeD to speak
and just to hürt to try
ive gr0WN accustomed to
u m
the l p in the throat
the damming of ~water~ behind eyelids f c
the quivering of my reddened a e
and the knifē through the back to my heart
isn't it a shhhhhhame when pain is so common B O
and we learn HOW to T T
L E it up y
and where to store it so a
nobody se•es w
only .. to be hiding it a
from those who gave you heartbreak
$ !
and still they act surprised,
and condemn you
* * * * tops
when you POP off the ^^^
and DrrrüNK enLY g..g..guzzled them all
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 1:36 AM UTC
Corners of the mouth perk up
Do they signify a smile?
Is it lip service or genuine
Parting of the lips to show the teeth?
Does it invite the cheeks
To dance the rumba?
Are eyes looking down on it
With dismay?
If invited would they even
Blink in time with you?
Would a tear trickle
To form at the corner of your lips?
Watering down the smile
You have allowed to begin
The tissues line up to dab
Your cheeks, wiping the drops
From your lips, damming
Up the waterfall before
Your boots are soaked
While puddles collect at
Your feet and slowly begin
To drown you out
Why.....I'm not that person
I smile with my eyes...
I think...
Do I?
Can I?
Will I?
Have I?
Do I want to?
Yes I smile
Do others see it?
Is it in my mind and
Not widely known?
A secret within me....?
So may I share a smile
With you today?
One that splits from ear to ear
Makes my jaw ache
That creates sparkle in my eyes
One I know to be true
You smiled back at me today
Broad and unabashed
It was worth it!!
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 8:10 AM UTC
Only when I dream am I safe,I ****** hate the place I'm at,
I ****** hate the pace I'm at forced to slow down to a crawl,
**** you all I hate the four walls I'm constantly starin' at,
trapped in an evil habitat,as twitchy as an alley cat,
I'm feelin close to snappin necks,
leavin wrecks of bodies in the walls like my name is west,
my best years are flying past
while I'm constantly harassed by "so called" loved ones,
you're lucky I don't own a gun
-cause seriously don't push me cause I'm at my boiling point another joint?
maybe it'll help me chill,I'm so stressed its makin' me ill
and my friends can't help me,they've got their own probs man
plus I don't like to admit how suicidal Mr Sandman the tough guy is really feeling,
Astral project and punch the ******* ceiling
out of this glass house that's constantly throwin' rocks,
your self obsessed attitudes is seriously a load of ****
so I try and get my sleep on,
no more time with the leash on,cause the Sandman controls you there,
remember all the nightmares? you've been having recently...
its ME messing with your nocturnal life is payback for my days of strife,
and I can keep it up for years,investing in your deepest fears,
lets see how YOU like holding back the tears,damming up like a blocked weir,you won't be spreading fake cheer,
with the Sandman in full control,
your life your dreams,body and soul,
like Alice falling down the hole,
my goodness!,oh my gracious me,
you really shouldn't stress me,
I'll fill your mind with TNT,
mix it with some ***
you'll blow your mind like LSD,
and maybe then remember me!(to be continued)
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 8:37 PM UTC
You who are silent
You who once tended this garden
You who left once winter closed its teeth
I am sorry for the way
I missed all your clues
They were subtle
And I was too busy trying
To untangle the bird cage
In my chest
I only wanted to learn how to sing again
We were poor students
But I have studied
The trajectory
Of the bullet that broke us
Like a ghost haunting its own bloodstain
We could never negotiate
Or way thought the burning
And the rubble
This ***** gift you left me with
That I hate to unwrap
But cannot help these anxious hands
You who are silent
You who broke away
You who never learned to bury your
Caskets
I cannot fault you for this
I had hoped that
You would be better
Then the girl who forgot how to love me
But you were the same shape as your shadow
You who are broken
You who sung always in silhouette
You who are silent
Sometimes on the quietest nights
I suspect I hear
Your tremble dream
Damming me for opening
That door you had locked so tight
But
You who took my keys
You who boarded up your spine
Your who are silent
Someone will have to sing
For the both of us
And we can walk away
Alone again
Silent
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 8:17 PM UTC
This is Britain
A land of contradiction
United by a Kingdom
Divided by benediction.
There is friction
And there were rivers of blood.
Where lions and tigers and dragons
Would stop and drink, toast to the flood.
All the waters of the Atlantic
Couldn't wash these shores clean
A damming testament of conquest
Atlantis was a dream,
Built on wooden boats
Cast in irons with an empires hopes.
Though the sins of the father are great
The children walk with a sombre gait
Fields of roses
Both
White and Red
Blossom on the hallowed ground of the Dead.
Roman laws and Norman Lords
Drowned out a Celtic cry
A longship silhouetted
Against a bleak obsidian sky.
The hunted become haunted by the ghosts of yore.
Pagan druids scythe mistletoe
As Haleys comet they saw
Around circles of stone for now and Evermore
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 10:32 AM UTC
At least I had it at one time—
The ability to make pretty words flow and rhyme
Not only that
Those words were sincere
Genuine uprootings of feelings made clear
Whether the emotion be happiness or fear
You can count on the fact that they were true projections
Yes I write simple now
Maybe that’s okay
I was lucky, I was good
At bleeding out all the emotions I could
Feel, but now replacing it is fear
Of not writing a good enough poem for my virtual peers
That is where the trouble lies
If I write for others, that’s where the bleeding subsides
Perhaps my poetry has been tainted by my pride
Or worse, perhaps it acts as a block from the right
Words that I have so been longing to find
That’ll do it
Pride can **** the flow alright.
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 4:49 PM UTC
It’s raining,
And I’m taking refuge,
Watching a bridge
Withstand a river deluge.
Drinking the sight of waters rage,
The ebb and flow of each new age.
My faces are glazed,
Until I exchange my gaze
For a traveler
Treading
Woe.
In a hastened pace to stave disgrace
By their cultural need for saving face.
Their mind unlaced,
Glancing through
Time’s passage;
They can’t see the message,
Blind to choosing a clue.
I assume their fear
For failing to adhere
To societal passages,
Spurred by the purchase
Of each new dear.
I feel their urgency surging waves of gravity;
Tied tides, I can taste the apocryphal surgery.
It hurts me,
To see their druthers change hue
Just so they can drink the dangers they’re daring,
Slaking their need for this fixed way through.
Un-damming a plea,
Steeped in empathy,
“Be patient. Please,
May I help you see?
That this river is
Swifter
Than you or me.”
All spilling from my heart's case,
And my mind.
“Can’t YOU see?
I haven’t the time and hardly the space.
I must keep trudging if I’m to keep pace,
In the race for the sun
And all that’ll never come
Undone.
Now keep you to yourself and--oh, never mind!”
Damming their course,
Leaking remorse lined remedies.
With each new step, the last one readies,
Traveling rapidly towards temporal eddies;
Vexed whispers in the flow of things,
Watch this fellow in the context of streams.
This friend thinks they can churn and rage
Against the turning of an age.
I really thought that they could too,
Oh! How I wish this stream’s course true.
Instead I watch the warrant
Of ridged destiny
Abridged,
Tearing under river's torrent;
I’m drinking in a travesty,
Of purely slickening torment.
The levees brim then burst.
The waters rage and rumble,
Spilling over bridge a-tumble.
“Don’t take me!”
My neighbor’s footing starts to crumble,
Their mettle and meter all a-jumble.
It is a tragedy.
“I’M DROWNING IN COMEDY!
What do I do?!
Can I do?!
Will I do?!
Should have done?!
Would have done?!
Could have done?!”
Nothing.
So I watched my dear friend swept
Away and wept
Into my hands.
I gave them a rope,
And found them hanged.
Then,
Looking up,
I realize something:
It’s raining,
And I’m taking refuge,
Watching a bridge
Withstand a river deluge.
Drinking the sight of waters rage,
The ebb and flow of each new age.
My faces are glazed,
Until I exchange my gaze
For a traveler
Treading
Woe.
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 5:03 PM UTC
I am just as evil as you are.
That damming claws at my ev'ry choice,
but steadily I will hold the bar
and 'member my inner sound, my voice.
The call rings. I answer with virtue,
recalling reasons not to hurt you.
You spout your hate and project your pain;
pain - that chorus I will not refrain.
Sometimes I wince and curse the earth
and others I rinse and find rebirth.
Sometimes I lie the dead night awake
to try to burn before daylight breaks.
The saga lives, I'm tired of its tail.
I'm using all my strength to prevail.
The serpent slowly slithers around,
but again I bring the giant down.
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 8:27 AM UTC
Is there a difference between being anxious and being careful,
The fear of not taking caution, when all you’ve taken in the past is lost in sin.
My streams of encouragement aren’t running dry, but they seem to be damming up at my mind.
You can’t understand the weight these feathers have on my heart,
Your scales work in reality,
Mine float along in a dreamscape endless fantasy,
Pulled down at one end where I see all future of peace and perfection.
All I can see is the undefined, the forgotten in time, only mine.
Help me drown and wake up back here, I won’t get far up here, looking for my dreamt of dear, all I need is one good hear,
Listening to your whispers of truth.
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 7:39 PM UTC
High above the mountain air
The eye weeps gently on the trees
And every tear that touches down
Could bring the mountain to its knees
I don't recall a face that day
That owned the disembodied eye
What must man do to stem the flow
Damming up the sky who cries
And in the valley far below
Where peaks give way to mossy greens
The sins are all the same and he
Who sows discord fears what he reaps
Deserts occupy the waves
Turning freeman into slaves
And beasts are all
and burdens are not freed
And in the midst of such a strife
The universe returns to life
And balance please do right the wrongs
Perpetuated underneath the sun
Dec 12, 2010
Dec 12, 2010 at 7:02 PM UTC
Brain screaming so loudly
so many thoughts without words
so loudly I beat my head against the wall
a mallet breaking a drumhead
so loudly I swallow a scream
throat swelling, damming a sob
of defeat
I feel my thoughts clawing
cutting my mind
They need out
out
like a rat in the bucket
pressed against your chest
and the flame beneath will
make the rat chew through
your still beating heart
They need out
The thoughts without words
travel down from my head
towards my mouth
but my throat says
detour
you need words
to get out here
The thoughts without words
travel down from mouth
and into my heart
where it gets pumped
through
my veins
my body
everything
screaming
Screaming the message
the thoughts without words
are desperately trying to deliver
but do not belong in my body
So I grab the letter opener
slicing the envelope of my arm
hoping its red contents
spill the message inside
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 1:25 AM UTC
I see you sitting there with a thumb in your mouth
and you wonder why the words wont come out.
The kid's too stout - he's too proud - too loud.
The type to carry around a pouch of sauerkraut
then pout when everything tastes south. Outstanding!
He's damming the river to prevent the peasants from swimming,
and doesn't realize the only thing keeping him afloat is down below.
Hello? Turn them sky highs into clout, boy- make it snow!
Lord of the purple prose - (what does he mean) who knows?
Not me - I'm too busy dwindling the last of the rations;
irrationally casting matches at a long list of parched cabins.
How can you expect me to feed in an orderly fashion?
I didn't reach the top link to eat without sending a message.
Savage patch kid wielding lightsabers for utensils -
We're a rare breed bred into existence to resist all that is vintage.
Equipped with shark fangs and griffon wings,
we're here to free the underlings from redundent sufferings.
Please excuse the reign, it follows me wherever I go
like a little lost dog caught up under my toe,
gravitating towards my end-all deathblow.
Dec 21, 2016
Dec 21, 2016 at 1:25 AM UTC
A configuration of obligations and considerations have given me bad nerves
the shilly and the shallying the counting and retallying
and the swerves that I make
all to take a crust
just to make a living
it's not fair that I'm giving my all
I can't take my eye off the ball or I'll fail
and bale out?
I wish
but the good fairy has gone and she has taken her wishing wand
I wish I had gone too
wish I'd flown the coop but I could not stoop that low
apart from the fact that there's nowhere to go
so I sit and I sew another mailbag
another old lag
trapped in the cells of his own private hells and the wishing well's run dry.
A guy
just a man
spanning the streams, damming his dreams
and yet the the dreams trickle through
a man
just a guy can only but try and the harder he tries too,the more that the dreams trickle on through and through and
what can I do?
Can I complain to some body
august,
some senator or just moan to myself as I usually do
'there is no one to help you', the inner voice says
'Get off your backside
and mend your ways'
and some days
it's like this
some days I could willingly kiss the **** of a mule
if only that would stop me from being this fool
but some days
when the richness of life peeps through the darkness of shadows I knew
then I really
do love it all.
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 3:45 PM UTC
Tell me about your god
All those miracles you saw and all about his peace
I come into an open discussion and people get disgusted
Because I don't see what they see
Please tell me then, how do rapists run free
They tell me the devil's in the details
So why does it feel like the devil is telling the tale
Throw an isolated quote at me, that's getting stale
I'm spiritual because I know my actions have matter
The ladder most people with strong religious convictions
Put themelves high above others, damming the victims,
And calling their own sins a story of fiction.
At least the cross I bear is mine with no indecision.
I've looked through a screen in a room and spoke with a man
Five Hail Mary's and an Our Father, now I am cleansed land.
Look down where I stand, tell me I'm saved.
Tell me how saved I am, yet I felt more enslaved.
Leaving the hopeless to feel like this is God's plan
You were suppose to beaten and cheated
It was written in those ancients sands.
Sifting you out and clipping your wings
But keep praying for what these past hardships bring
And don't forget to donate to a priest who lives like a king.
I mean no hate by ideals I've written in my head
Just remember, the double standards, haunt you in your bed
I've looked to a sea flowing into that unknown
I got in a small boat and parted it on my own
You won't take the might I've shown and say someone else is to blame
The same goes for the failures and mistakes
I take me for the all of me that I am
In the face of these demons, I never ran.
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 12:43 AM UTC