"defacing" poems
I loved you, at first,
more than anything.
Nothing else mattered,
If I could be by your side,
I would’ve protected you from a n y t h i n g.
The feeling of
your lips touching mine.
Cold and dull,
is it wrong that I still miss them?
Your eyes drifted to others,
never straying to mine,
never filled with the same spark.
Why won't you look at me?
You would say it,
those three words and I could only listen
as you say it to the others.
Not to me. Never to me.
They always got your love,
and warm smiles,
while you gave me your screams of
"You should be happy. Why aren't you happy?"
My orders:
never to be near you,
holding hands was forbidden,
we did not know each other, not publicly.
They would get the wrong idea.
“She's just a friend,” You would say.
Forcing me into a corner, chained,
As your collar (pleaseithurtsithurts) leaves me
b r e a t h l e s s.
It was all a game, wasn't it?
Of how fast I could love you (whatwasithinking),
of how much I could bleed (Goditwaseverywhere)
of how long before I couldn’t take it (saveme,please,anyone)
You were the king,
and I, your faithful pawn,
Just another piece on your board.
Your touches, never warm, never tender
What an artist you were,
Always defacing your canvas with your brushes,
Aren’t you talented?
Is this what love is?
Take it back, please,
I don't want this anymore.
I just wanna forget (getitoutgetitout).
“It’s okay, you don’t have to love me, no one ever does.”
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 11:59 AM UTC
Blasting out of the fog and mud
Past the forests in the sunrise
Farms and high ways
Trotting through suburbia
Through the tunnel
Defacing and refusing to allow themselves to be part of an unjust ******
Believe in the intermingling of colors
Waiting for the planets to fall into place
To stop for a moment and inhale the abundant harmony that surrounds them and emote and create a inspiring response in the form of self expressive freedom that matches the beauty that had compelled them
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 10:51 AM UTC
she touched up untended walls
all alone, no party assembled
attempting to create reactions
with her color selection
and inspire sunken eyes
with the antonym for
"you are worthless" and "no one cares"
...but the paint is peeling
and her motivation runs constant
as she prepares her endurance
to spackle and smooth grooved surfaces
prime marks and hide pitted edges
to place appropriate strokes adequately
and try a little color contrast
on previously blended door and window trim
...but the paint is peeling
now bubbles form and fall flakily at her feet
as a sleight of hand starts its mischief
of defacing the layers of her self-affirmation
with synonyms for the premature initiative she displayed
so, she drops her tools and starts peeling
removing the pain that is hindering her renewal
and covering the constant decay correctly
working toward a strengthened surface
that maintains its finish against the cruelest force
and accepts loving, touches
without turning them to criticism.
Jan 22, 2011
Jan 22, 2011 at 12:47 PM UTC
~
Standing to fight
In the heart of the city
The jungles of asphalt
where neon flashes evil
as sidewalk dwellers
window shop hate
and find peace labeled “Not for sale”
I cling to my beliefs
in lamp post graffiti
Spray painted wishes
fading in color
and store owner nightmares,
defacing the brick walls
surrounding my very existence
Fear falls in pamphlet raindrops,
pages scattered
beyond the welcome mats
of big box politicians
in paisley ties
and sharp creased slacks,
shaking hands and scamming votes
Promises made
circled in cigar smoke and cheap wine,
fall on unsuspecting ears as truth
until the “sorry we’re closed” signs
spin in favor of loss…
opening for business
to the throngs of the needy
I see their eyes, hollow,
faltering of sorrow as worry
becomes the next day’s problem
Reaching into my pocket I retrieve
the multi-colored wings you gave me…just in case
and I fly to be with you
Unable to face the fall…of humanity
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
lovers forgo their faces
defacing in the act
mammering their information to unreadable smudges
they slur in kinetic fluctuation
experimenting material forms fray
each the others face is vented away
betray being human
no separated being
and then...
to return in the tender moments following
a bumbling landfall
then they are athletes
enamoured and praising of the other
flushed and radiating
having rushed the life from their breath
they heave in its return
Later in a **** trip down to the night kitchen
they forgo they faces in a foxes forage
hers ; over-lit by the fridge light
face thrown into a mask by extreme shaddows
his ; beyond this light in the dark
they are bodies
sneak children
the raider and the lookout
after many years make the familiar relation
her face disappears into a hand mirror
and his is pulled out
into a middle distance beyond the dresser
durred in thought and waiting for 'go'
to the restaurant tonite
or that career social that neither wishes to attend
- fell shy of Eden
Sep 11, 2022
Sep 11, 2022 at 8:48 PM UTC
Existing in this infinite stream.
Observing the towering waterfall above me.
Seeking a peaceful habitat,
liberation and re-birth anywhere except here.
This excessive baggage I bear,
fighting against the current.
Wondering why I started at the bottom of this waterfall,
while others, at the top.
Detained by unrelenting forceful water,
drowning me to the shadowed ground.
Rubble marking and defacing my skin.
Hiding and scared from the revolving threats.
Burdened by understanding my surroundings.
Currents throwing me around with availability.
Examining the colors of life sparkling through the reflection of my water.
Trapped in chaos,
Starved for happiness,
Losing hope in this dark stream.
One day I will see the calm sunlit waters,
I will swim past this abuse.
© Jl 2015
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 10:15 PM UTC
suds fall on black like endless snow.
tarnished paint to spry—
engine's diminutive breath
clout of metal coil, ballasts of portent...
defacing the fog and giving
it a brand new meaning. beside the rice fields in sullen Bulacan,
i ache for the frog defecating
on this tortured piece of land.
birds in migratory V-positions cleave
the azure, vanishing behind the tough ornate. to whence they flee
and to where they shall land
on their poised talons, i do not know.
underneath the dermis and over
it, a long stillness of waiting,
trapped is this
man of Earth.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 3:43 AM UTC
Gently scraping the adhering paper from the firm plastic, colorful cube
That beared a delicate weight in my soft, precarious pink hands,
I grasped the sticker and pressed it on my protuberant little veins--
“Innocence!” Clarence cried my misleading appellation,
“Are you cheating? You’re taking off the stickers, mindlessly relocating them
To unravel (or reassemble, rather) the poor little tormented Rubik’s.”
*“Nay, you fool. I’m just rearranging them so that no one can solve the puzzle.
I’m a sadist, not a fraud.”*
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
I can't write my feelings for him.
The word love was struck from my dictionary long ago
angry grey pencil, so fierce goes through the paper
and leaves a ghost on the entries
"luff" through "lugger"on the facing page;
the next entry unscathed is "lugubrious".
Figures.
Dec 17, 2010
Dec 17, 2010 at 8:20 AM UTC
The fact of the matter is that you
Choose to believe
There's no reprieve
From this constant, continual...
Consistent deceit
This contraceptive perception
Manifesting what you believe
'What happens once will come again'
From that there's no relief
That which you take heed from
Is imprinted on your skin
As if you can't reach within
For matters intimate
Second guessing and stressing
While vacantly sedated
Placating under false pretenses
-Keeping sated
-Faded
Like you were the product
Of this aftermath
Attacking the apt capability
Of all you lack
-Underhanded
In the most subtle approach
This perpetual cognizant apparition
Of these ghosts
Furthermore
They boast and beg recognition
Putting prescriptions to their name
Like defacing prepositions
Could well esteem their fame
I maintain that I refuse
To be a product of the masses
Drifting whimsically and making victims From my caprices
The end result of my fate
Never created hate
Only this conditioned position
From which I now must escape
I'd rather sit
Listen and contemplate
Than justify my shame
I'll take the pain
Of my twisted thoughts
Before letting them run astray
No one pray for me
Because I've done this once before
And sanction I will find
Within this mind
Before I hit the floor
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
Journey
Just words on a scrap of paper
Explicit, and says I’d like to
A reply same as before
Explicit, but says I’d like to too
A few public defacing to grab your attention
Minute in scale, and portrays that I like you
A retort of appreciation, a few attempts of your own
Cute indeed with an invite that says I like you too
With our best face’s forward, we make first contact
Small talk and gentle stares that say I want to
Sand, sea, and night, a storybook embrace
A salty taste in the air that says you want to too
Rendezvous and stolen kisses
Early morning to late night wishes, we had to
First time so right, incents and candlelight
Taste so good, and felt so tender. Skin to skin we had to
From a fling t a ring, our souls integrated
We dreamed so well together, I love you
As we relived our best moment, our child came to be
I rush to spoil you and here you say I love you too
Alexis J. Meighan
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 8:50 PM UTC
Spinning in its apogee this world has lost its rhyme
It’s denizens deflecting and defacing precious time,
Sidestepping crucial issues and responsibilities
While elected fools to office flaunt abused integrities,
It’s all integral to disorder running rampant in the street
Where shades of retribution lead to fear of those we meet.
Where production slows to stoppage causing systems now to fail
And the single voice of sanity is the fool who yells "Curtail" !!
Gone to Hell the Good Old Days, gone the repartee
Lost communication in this world of misery.
Aleppo lies in ruins, unconscionably true
And blame imparts it’s levity on all including you,
The sin of ******* conscience where we turn the other cheek
Where ignorance is innocence as kids die in the street.
Blame Syria and Moscow, Blame Isis and the Yanks,
Blame everyone who turns the other cheek …to mutter quietly, “no thanks”
Blame ignorance, intolerance, the hate and Jealousy,
Blame God for his indifference and mediocrity.
Aleppo lies in ruins and the world just doesn’t care
For as Christmas joy approaches, we switch our focus there.
Isis is the apogee, the focus and the fulcrum
Isis is the dark abyss that treads the path to Hell
A Caliphate catastrophe inherent in equation
A tipping point reaction as respondents toll the bell.
Where East and West throw shards of death to strut the stage of destiny,
Where man tip-toes the edge of an apocalyptic end,
The rest of us stroll corridors of detached halls of apathy
Intent upon a peaceful life where violence rarely rends.
Aleppo lies in ruins in a patina of concrete dust
Children die obscenely in the rubble of the street
Obsession paints the hatred bright, on faces of the warriors,
Oblivious to the carnage they cast at Allah’s feet.
Aleppo lies in ruins, unconscionably true
And blame imparts it’s levity on all….including you!
M.
Hamilton NZ
9 December 2016
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 2:20 PM UTC
Wind
I have never seen so much wind
Making trees uproot
And branches bow to their superior.
And the rain,
Oh so much rain,
Making rivers burst their banks,
And oceans surpass the dunes.
"Dear God, please keep us safe!"
A woman cries from inside a dark house.
As lightning strikes all around,
With the endless rain,
Flooding the house,
And the wind defacing the outside.
And we all wonder,
Why Mother Nature?
Why?
And a woman cries out again,
As the flood water is rising,
And the wind tears down the trees
The silent cry of
"Dear God help me!"
Could be heard
Through the darkest night.
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 7:16 PM UTC
sooner or later you'll find out your thoughts are a sin:
drugged and lugged through the halls you're living in
until you've accepted their embracing concepts
and their defacing analysis of your character; you're dead.
their pale, fluorescent lights hum in your head
and clean out the cobwebs that you've let build up
until you've been completely cleansed of your transgressions
and until you've figured out life's not about progression.
sooner or later you'll find out you're life's been overanalyzed:
created for the sake of boredom and then criticized
by yourself, your peers, and the people who you never knew;
they'd never known, not even yourself, but you guessed.
there was no reason to make an estimate, you're blessed
through your admission of self, sanctity, and painful denial
of the truths they'd tried to make you disbelieve;
now you're ready, you're certain, and soon, you'll be freed.
Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 12:14 PM UTC
you will never hear
a thumping drum of
a Kafkaesque mea culpa
of the first fist clenched
drumming against the chest...
thum' thum' thump,
boom boom, boom boom,
given that my index finger
on my right hand was dislodged
in order that i might not clench it
into a fist,
given the strong hand it once was,
given that,
i'd still gladly if not
ably punch you dead - indeed should
it take another dislocation i would see it:
a face ably punched dead, nonetheless...
question is, would i take more pleasure
anally defacing it rather than punching it?
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 8:48 PM UTC
The old red car
sat alone in his garage
pondering his likely disposition..
Odometers don’t lie
and his said he’d
seen some miles.
There was some body rust
defacing his red paint.
He was out of warrantee
and as he could plainly see
there were newer, flashier
models now about.
Still, his battery was strong,
plenty tread left on his tires
and his CD/stereo still
sounded great..
Would he be sold to another,
less considerate owner
who would make him
spend his old age
on the street?
Would he be towed off to the
dump?
his parts salvaged by some chump?
Would he end up crushed and
melted by the man?
If so, when the metal cooled,
would he find himself retooled
in a showroom ready
for the road again?
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 9:52 AM UTC
I'm not here tonight, I've left my body.
Someone else is here.
Making me do all these horrible things.
Why can't I just say goodbye?
I am not me, and I don't think I'll ever be.
When I look into the mirror all I see are the scars, and my empty eyes.
I don't see me, I'm gone.
I just want the war inside to cease, I want my arguing subconscious to hush.
I want every word to be unsaid, and every sound unheard.
Then I'd be me, then I'd be innocent.
Then I'd be peaceful and joyful.
But that isn't going to happen and I need to be strong.
I need to **** in the air, even if it is sharp like the blades.
Even if it hurts, even if I don't want the oxygen to seep into my blood and keep my heart beating.
I need to go on, because I will get better.
And the me I once was is inside somewhere, buried deep under all the skin and bones.
Behind all the dark thoughts, and behind my teary eyes.
Soon I will be me, and soon I'll look into your eyes.
And then I believe that everything will be well.
I will not be fighting a war within myself any longer.
I will not be bleeding blood, or burning skin.
I am not that, and I will leave it behind.
I will leave all the pitch black thoughts, defacing words, and ripping skin behind me.
And I will bury it 10 feet under, and plant the prettiest flowers over it.
So maybe they will become something better someday.
Maybe they will find their way back to me unchanged, but that's okay.
Because I'm strong and I will fight them harder, and bury them deeper.
And maybe even hurt them like they hurt me, but you know what they say.
Hurting doesn't really take the hurt away.
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 2:17 AM UTC
Sliding a can of spray paint out of his mischeif backpack
finger tips began to sense things without touching
they knew they were about to vandalize
and the thought of beautiful work to be created made the nerves fly into a frenzy.
Rattling of bearing, combining of paint and propellant
pink sneezes out of the nozzle in a wonderful mist smelling of dizzying chemicals
he waves his arm in an arc,
an ark to save a generation from corporate ***********
to eliminate the fraud of the men in suits who shave daily and drink coffee
this kid
wanted to revolt, not knowing repurcussions
or fearing concussions
only the humiliation of being held by the book of laws and treaties,
treating each night of debauchery as a dawn of ingenuity and won victories,
perplexion of the too-calm anarchy of day-to-day America
why wasn't everyone outraged?
Why weren't they naked and screaming and looting?
His thoughts were misconstrued by **** residue
cheap alcohol poisoning
he may as well have huffed the paint
then the cops came
"It's in my rights, I want my rights! I need my rights to write!"
Delirious, disgruntled
he'll tweet about this later,
his first run-in with The Fuzz
while defacing a preschool.
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 9:22 PM UTC
Vladimir whispers comfort to me:
*Holly
Holly
Holly
Holly
you should shed your scalesss
on some cheap trolley railssss
Just go, take your passport!
Hold me 'round your neck for sport.*
Smouldered by a motley
Who ****** up my good wing
Denying me proxy
Intaking the most vital thing
The wind is my only real motivation
Inciting a remedy verse
It feels like the strangest locomotive sensation
You find me livid and ready to burst
I notice the finality of some tension approaches
Wait! do you feel the need to breathe?
Are we all indebted to these crimson coaches
While god pushes the sky down on you and me?
I want to wait out their tussles and be grateful
But I pay Her in ****** taxes
I want to dry out my muscles and be helpful
But I'm stuck on a flooded axis
Dreaming of San Juan
Where I tracked predator dung
The search goes on
Where we lost one failing lung
Lead me to the classroom globe
Let me decide when to Disapparate
Give me mother's recipe for a ribosome
I'm sure my trash will eventually dissipate
Erasing
A swing
Defacing
Her ring
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 9:52 PM UTC
While plucking, prodding, pulling
Defacing the nature
Of our own wildernesses
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 6:19 PM UTC
sleepless embraces
silent
defacing
our wilted ends and tenderness.
privately crying,
quiet, applying
blush
on putrescence.
murmurring,
murmurring
'you are mine.'
pining,
dying,
hushing lust.
rabidly dabbling in fragile fantasies,
huffing tar stuff borrowed from tomorrow!
shush.
please.
these feeble obscenities eat me to sleep:
you wear me down like a river
but i don't get smoother
i just get thinner
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 9:35 PM UTC
I don't think people keep in mind
how many wonderous cultures
have been stomped out
and erased by Christianity
In Norway the Christians
tried to burned all the records of the
native culture.
They moved a church
from an unconfrontation position
to directly in the middle
of a native sacred circle
then put up an iron cross
defacing the spots of old gods
forcing ideas onto the unwanting
it's haunting
and scares the **** out of me
that so many people cannot see
or will not see
the evils done for someone who
hasn't ever, ever shown his face
No man can win my battles
or erase my sins for me
that's my right,
that's my fight
Jesus may have died on a cross
but I didn't ******* ask him to.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 8:27 PM UTC