"dazes" poems
If you give a wishing stone,
she'll travel out all on her own.
She'll leave behind the fear and pain,
and keep herself from going insane.
While her friends are getting diagnosed,
she'll be somewhere in her boat.
Maybe she'll have tea for two,
but at least she'll know what to do.
And they may ask, and plead, and beg to be in her world,
but she'll certainly say,
"Be gone, be gone, or off with your head."
Which should be said, since they cursed her be dead.
If you give a girl a wishing stone,
she'll truly feel all alone,
and for those who never cared "be gone!"
The queen has finally sang her song.
She was never a fool, just a withered small bud,
and those pigs would throw her around in the mud.
So sure she dreams and dazes off,
but she can do whatever she wants.
She earned a bit of recognition,
for all antagonize and inhibition.
Give that girl some cheer,
she fought a war for all those years.
Stop the hate for her being crushed,
unlike some, she had no love!
The glass shattered hard,
it's no surprised it became shards.
Giving time and yells,
doesn't heal, it kills.
If you give a girl a wishing stone,
you've given her one happiness finally of her own.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 3:43 AM UTC
flowing river, crashing rain
together troubles sow,
yet do not mend.
a silent sorrow,
sullens sour solitude.
light mist envelopes autumn,
west wind waves the water,
soundless severance scatters clouds,
blossoms fall on flowing water.
memory of spring dazes gaze,
alters flow as whirlwind dashes,
summer's sunlight sets,
dual waltz of lotus leaves,
In remembrance of cherry blossoms.
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 3:14 PM UTC
December 1899
I
She sits in the tawny vapour
That the Thames-side lanes have uprolled,
Behind whose webby fold-on-fold
Like a waning taper
The street-lamp glimmers cold.
A messenger’s knock cracks smartly,
Flashed news in her hand
Of meaning it dazes to understand
Though shaped so shortly:
He—he has fallen—in the far South Land…
II
’Tis the morrow; the fog hangs thicker,
The postman nears and goes:
A letter is brought whose lines disclose
By the firelight flicker
His hand, whom the worm now knows:
Fresh—firm—penned in highest feather—
Page-full of his hoped return,
And of home-planned jaunts of brake and burn
In the summer weather,
And of new love that they would learn.
3.2k
I woke up with the sun in my eyes.
Then fell back asleep, too comfortable in my dreams.
Something about spending the night with you.
Again I awoke, this time panicking for I realized I was late.
That ********* alarm had been sleeping too.
I neglected my routines and left my four cornered room, practically falling down the stairs.
Punctuality is a human invention, I thought, don't they know it's unhealthy to always be in a rush?
Time has been accelerating as of late, it must be.
It feels like just yesterday I was working alongside my colleagues, paving away for our futures, healing a prosperous community of lovers and friends, finding true happiness.
But that was over two weeks ago, and again I feel like it was all just a dream.
Sitting here consuming microwavable meals as I hammer incessantly away at my keys hoping to find myself, what a vicious cycle.
Calm down, one goal at a time.
No time is wasted as long as it's spent living.
Something about today, something about this hideous weather and my failure to get out of bed, the guilt, the anger, the fear, all of it.
Somehow I knew that it was going to end with me gripping the side of a toilet seat, spewing my insides out, trying not to pass out as the cacophonous ringing I once described dazes and confuses my thoughtless mind.
Memory by memory...
Poetry, what an idea.
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 12:44 PM UTC
Lazy Waves
Sunny Dazes
The Sight Of You Still Amazes--
God, You're Amazing.
You're Crazy,
You Big Baby,
Those Nights Are Hazy
Of Snow Cones
And Karate Kid
And Sitting On Your Roof Alone
Hide And Go Seek In The Dark
Tagging Your Car While You Were With The Boys
Talking And Crying For Hours With The Car On Park
But That's What It's All About,
It's Where We Go
Or What We Do,
Whether We're Quiet Or Loud
It's About How Much Love We Have
Or How Many Times We Fight
Count All The Laughs
And The Sleepless Summertime Nights
Cause In The End,
When This Is All Said And Done
And We're No Longer Lovers, No Longer Friends,
And Winter Comes,
That's All I'll Have To Remember You By,
All Those Summertime Nights.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 10:31 PM UTC
Always wearing these rose colored glasses
You’re making all these old card passes
We’re not the same anymore
Just this open wound sore
Remembering these broken blossoms and blooms
Wiping away these memories with brooms
Sharing this forgotten past
These things won’t ever last
Old heartbroken mazes
Falling into these confused dazes
You don’t want to speak of it
You’re getting tired of this repeated ****
I had hopes with you
For everlasting two
When can these harmonies just die?
You always have a hidden cry
That one moment of honesty
It was only you and me
Forget all these happy times
After all those failed signs
Look at all these love messages send
I guess this is just our bitter end
Time to take these rose colored glasses off
Goodbye to your broken blossoms and blooms forever
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 6:49 PM UTC
I wake up early,
Can't wait to start my day,
anxious for every monday,
Trade coffee for a mint.
What am I?
Spend half my time sighing,
The other half moaning ;)
I dazes off and think of:
Lips,
Eyes,
hands,
Tounge,
Voice,
Shoulders,
Collarbone,
Chest,
Jaw,
Warmth,
Arms,
feelings.
What am I?
Full of anxiety,
Fear,
Pain,
Passion,
Warmth,
Giddiness,
Joy,
Sorrow,
Excitement,
Yearning,
Thanks.
What am I!?
"why my dear,
You are in love."
I...I couldn't...be. . . .
yet I can't Help but to run to his embrace.
What am I!?
"Why my dear you are in love"
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
It's sunny when my eyes are open
Yet it storms while I'm sleeping
Their smoke blends into the air daily
It puts me in a haze and dazes me for days on end
This hazed daze must effect them, sadly, maybe that's their intent
But don't subject me to this evil world you've created
Though these nightmares may have, manipulated your every dream
Inception can be dangerous so don't plaster me the creature you hate
Rather realize I'm sacrificing life
For these images you paint
Yes I'm the wind
I keep the breeze going when things
get too hot
These man made substitutes will break
And be discarded like sheet rock
So dont close your windows and hide yourself from your own fog
if you move on, you move on.
NO MATTER HOW HARD
No matter how hard.
And that's life
And you keep fighting
I'll fight for my dreams and my visions
For a world with out your smog and misconception
Where these wrong words thought of rightly
And injust actions performed justly
Are no more
Where my solidarity is only recognized through my laughter
And my pain is only recognized by my flesh
Where I can hold hands with my sons and daughters
And I can look my father in the eyes,
And he'll knows I past his tests
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 4:51 PM UTC
As I write ifs and elses
& grab some dreams
out of the shelf,
I am struck by
a miracle with beautiful legs.
I am struck again
by a feather with a soft spring song.
And I lose my mind
to these little things that belong
to that time before summer.
The melody that echoes in my humming
and your beautiful uncompromising pace
send my spinning wheel of emotions
to never ending places.
To love you is to write you down,
word for word, until the pen loses its ink,
and another days goes by in dazes
and it could rain deserts for all I care.
All of the sudden,
my poem gets touched by other,
and that’s how poetry is made,
you see?
She lives in all of us,
somewhere, somehow,
waiting to be unfolded.
And the day will come
that the best poem will come bursting
out of an entire life of compilations.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 7:12 PM UTC
These lingering days contribute to the weariness I've recently cultivated.
Doubt has become my main driving force--
I am tired.
Much more cannot be explained in such a place,
when all has been lost and I teeter in surreal dazes.
It is a thick black fog that captures me every time;
And where would I take refuge without it?
Compare me to the Serpent,
you can.
You are obviously misguided.
It was the hand of a harsh man who sculpted me into this kind of form--
not love itself.
So don't blame her,
and don't label me.
She is tired,
just as I am tired.
'A neutral conclusion to a binding tale;
You could say.
Exhausted lady love has had enough.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 7:37 PM UTC
Let it come, the memories, which come
up in broken waves, of times too fragile to
capture in rash stories. Moments that
fade within thoughts that try to keep
near; the image of you, words attached to
fragmentary pictures. I remember brown eyes behind
glasses, while in contemplation, and that how in
silence, one tried to examine the features on
my inside. Lying down, looking up, into dazes and
blurry reflections. Can you tell the future by the
shine in my eyes and shape of my lips? I want to know what lies
beyond your clear brown eyes, though you seem to
read like an open book, I still see pages unread, appear
unwritten in unpainted ink. Where is the earnest, how does your
mind travel through dark open spaces? Can I deepen the
effect I have on you? Make it last, and have my
self succumb to more than just your touch, which does
ripple over me like ravenous waters. I want to
swim, though formally I’m not allowed to. Would you
let me see what is beyond that horizon, when I fall off the
world, will I dive into our pages then?
© 2005
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 6:35 PM UTC
expertise irrelevant, a knowing
recognition where & when & why,
venn diagram inflection points
intersect, and also confine
the nirvana nexus on a line of dots in a
movingly motion connected by a formula that
has an equal 🟰 in its muddly middle the man’s best sole instructions to her only
solve! me
when in an moveable interaction
the power of rushing baking cake & it’s filling
is akin to trying to hold back a bucking stream that cannot both be ****** or dammed
running words, making
you obsessed to remember
every detail, but commas only,
never a period interrupting continuity no
essential points of exit and entry
and yet…
you cold stop to breathe
wondering how came you
to be a container intertwining
motifs and motives, desires contradictory,
control contrives to be a
controversy pressured pressed
together, and you want to stop, go,
turnings to touch,
she be tablet and he the pen,
and you wrack to remember each
detail, the poem complete or will
confusions reign supreme
and all the fantastical
schemes are shot to
hell, ink spilled,
house doused
and she good naturedly laughs at you,
cause she knows poet better than himself
and forgives him his inspirational
dazes and gazes of confusion
because it is hard to give when
giving birth to
a dream’s obsessive demands
to love one more
than the other
each deserves no rival, just a final fini,
she wants the same, but the heart
is where he keeps hid, exactly
what she needs, so forgives a
little, because loving a crazy
man after all these years
is taking the excesses
costly cause that be
an insanity desired,
what she loves,
the dusky duo
inside him
a constant
battle re
fusing
resolving
the man’s contradictories,
that she cherishes him for
more, his mired mind, more and
laughs at mores, cause it is never ending;
his more is feature why she loves him very best, she showers and laughs, he rushes in
puzzlement featured on his face, so invites him in and as he falls to his knees in a watery
embrace, while grasping her hips, she
states with a finality: “‘
”let us discuss the importance of proper endings”
Oct 4, 2024
Oct 4, 2024 at 4:38 PM UTC
Droplets of rain marbles
splatter on the tin roof
and weigh hungover leaves,
anticipating summer's sweat.
Conga circles drum cricket croaks,
their symphonic looping chorus
dazes time as stars gaze.
Rabbits are everywhere,
halting but not fazed by my high beams
while the tornado siren sounds,
my cue to get naked.
Atlanta reigns the ***** and pills,
so I stay far away,
just ninety three miles south of these hills,
we can't trust me in that place.
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC
Some friends are good,
when others
are not.
Some friends are fun,
when there is
far to little.
Some friends are stupid,
when there is
much to think about.
But the best friends
have been wounded.
They have felt all the feels
and have been dealt all the deals.
Those are the ones
that can see humor
and beauty
where others see nothing.
Those are the ones with scars.
Some they regret, others they don't.
Because each is a lesson,
that needed to be taught,
Those are the ones
you look at and think,
"Well they are so strong
they could stand through anything."
Those are the ones
that in their hearts are afraid,
that still have nightmares
in waking hours and sleepy dazes.
Those are the ones
that still manage to walk,
that still manage to look,
that still manage to smile.
Those are the ones
who have gone through so much
that no one can tell them
the pain is not real.
Those are the ones
who will listen
and speak
with quiet voices and loud minds.
Those are the ones
that are the most beautiful.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC
forty, for three kinds of pain
swell into sixty, they suggested;
the idea of dependency and
docile, smiley dazes
too much, like a bruised sprain
tiptoeing on the edge
of a complete break
i don’t need to be happy all the time
i just need to be happy more
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 3:20 PM UTC
*I seek refuge in you
I embrace the solace windy nights of December
The love and the caresses
The strokes and kisses;
I now feel numb
Drifting amidst my hazy dazes
The sweet melodious lullabies that put me to sleep
Tis your shelter i seek
The aesthetic in you
The comfort that your heart gives me
It aches me to look you in the eyes
Perhaps it's the attraction that leaves me scarred
As your eyes penetrate through my soul and quench me, completely!*
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 12:31 PM UTC
My eyes can't unsee what I have seen
A dying man sat in front of me
His mind was battling the inner demons inside,
He thought he could control his psyche and swallow his fears
His hands clasping so tight to his open chest
The shadows on the wall reflected a sorry state of his sorrows
I wanted to give him more hope,
But I stood there and froze
Awoken by his vulnerable presence
His large eyes became pallid and sunken,
He dazes into the distance fighting to breathe,
He could hear the demons howling his name,
I tried to hold his hand which became rotten and decay,
He whispers the words 'I can't do this anymore' his hollow face sank to the floor
My heart fell into pieces as he closes his eyes,
I didn't want this to be our last goodbye
Jun 4, 2021
Jun 4, 2021 at 5:17 AM UTC
Somewhere behind me
There may still be monsters accidentally existing
I have no time for their ghosts or membrane mutiny
Somewhere a childish criminal collects clarity blissfully sidetracked
Simple secrets now subjected to an expiration date
A jar cluttered with light may illuminate its conclusion
Hums fall with clicks inside glass contaminates
Class refrained curiosity made these spaces empty
Peripheral pimps take my scenes for nonsensical renditions
Ticks in the skull while empathy ponders panic
A familiar echo for the susceptible
A time bomb mistaken for clockwork
Helium hideaways complicate an otherwise profound articulation
They fall separately
While defunct damsels capture blue bliss on virtual timelines
It's not real
Light speed fleeting
Grasp the grips for your short sighted ******
Do these chalklines suggest hesitation?
What flaw shall we consider fixation?
Brickwork bygones crumble into memory and highway streams
Falling on fiends lost inside a smokescreen sanctuary
Eyes indefinitely indulging
Porcelain prisms with mindful monsters
Timeline logic lays low for the sake of saner discovery
Downward dazes find hands like phases
No correct callous in sight
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 5:17 PM UTC
On a blue lonely night
I was fighting my fight
That end of the tunnel
Had no sign of light
Then something happened
I met you
It felt nice, it felt new
Though had no clue
It'll end up becoming something
beyond I had ever imagined.
My mind inevitably blew.
Knowing you feels peaceful
Like I'm meeting myself
Talking to you is blissful
Like some pieces of puzzles
Falling into places themselves.
Can't find any precedence
To the connection I've with you
You're amazing to a great immense
Your charm amazes me dazes me
Your goals, your energy just crazes me
I learn so much from you
Everyday every time we talk it amuses me
It's safe when I'm with you
Want you to feel the same way
I can let go with you
You will even find me
In a lost pile of rocks or hay
You're born to shine
Shine bright
You're among a few
Who're destined to touch
The tallest of heights
You inspire me
You helped me acquire me
You're beautiful in so many ways
I can compliment you for all my days
Now when I stand at the dark tunnel
And I try to find the end of it
I see a sign of light
It's not dark any more
I keep fighting my fight
But it's not hard anymore
It's easier then it was before
Thanks for being a part of my life
You some how open the doors
That were shut a long time ago
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 1:09 PM UTC
that it soon will be over
that I'm not here, not now
that I feel everything I don't want
that I feel nothing but aversion
that I fell into a sinkhole
that I might be filmed and
that I'm not recognizable, he is, so
that I have proof
that I dare to show
that I don't know who he is
that I'm afraid of what's to come
that I'm going to die painfully for the reason
that he infects me incurably, but also
that he himself will perish much worse
that he will be humiliated by everyone
that he wishes himself miles away, of misery
that he falls into a sinkhole
that it will swallow him up frightfully, yes
that it buries him alive
that it dazes him in a scary dream
that he roams in it for years
that he only after that will fall asleep exhausted
that he wakes up from his delusion again
that I stop him with love
that I receive him with love, but
that I don't get pregnant
that meanwhile, I'm thinking all
this
Sep 8, 2025
Sep 8, 2025 at 4:25 AM UTC
coffee shop dazes in the rain
4:15 cravings
knit sweaters that I always forget
the clatter of change on the table
mindless small talk for hours
my fingers fidgeting with my phone
a second order of sweetness
another dozen moments of silence
trying desperately to keep the conversation going
your hand constantly on your phone
and I don’t know what I am doing anymore
all I know is that I might be desperate
because I have no idea if you notice
that over sips of coffee my eyes wander to you
all your denim and your scuffed up sneakers and your bed hair
I notice the lines in your hands and the hollow of your throat
and I keep biting my tongue to keep myself from saying
I kinda wanna hold your hand in mine
I kinda wanna push the hair out of your eyes
I kinda want you all to myself
I clench my hands in my lap
knowing that you are inches from me
knowing that I can hold your heartbeat if I could
knowing that you will never allow it
and maybe I will stay here
right across from you in coffee shops
trying to hide my smile behind tentative sips
knowing that I do not have a place with you.
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 6:06 AM UTC
I like secrets, because they keep me in line
What does a sail do when it is stuck at sea
At the mercy of those in his seat
What does a duckling do
When his mother is swept away
The tides of yesterday.
When I yearn for a connection
A true, genuine scrap of something
A finger, a hand, a cuddle
I can’t think of a single soul
A single soul
Who could comfort these dark monsters within the cradle of my centre.
I miss splendour, I miss thousands of genitals
I wish I could look into someone’s eyes
And see millions of moments, billions of words
All said, all touched, completely on exhibition for me, for us,
Mango leaves, dried trees
A true, genuine scrap of something
Love is an optical illusion
I find love at the bottom of my glass,
I find fear in an empty bed.
Worried sick
Horror lulled me into laze
Dazes, fades to grey
Ashes do not exist
Ashes do not exist
I am the ash of my own fingertips
I am the cigarette-kissed burns on my guns and roses.
Flesh, oh flesh
That is all that it is.
A first kiss.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
Always find myself comparing everyone to you...staring into deep dazes sighing just repeating **** they don't make em like you no more"
You weren't perfection, you made me cry, scream, yell, sulk, slap and punch you.
But you made me laugh, smile, kiss, hug, and touch you way more.
I complained about you disappearing for hours at a time, not replying to my texts, not answering my calls, not making time.
Then I got tossed into this sea of fishes again,
And they made you look like a saint like Prince Charming.
So I'm wondering as I lay my head down tonight if I'll ever love someone the way I loved you.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 1:45 AM UTC