"defenselessness" poems
When I was young, I used to
Watch behind the curtains
As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men.
Young men sharp as mustard.
See them. Men are always
Going somewhere.
They knew I was there. Fifteen
Years old and starving for them.
Under my window, they would pause,
Their shoulders high like the
******* of a young girl,
Jacket tails slapping over
Those behinds,
Men.
One day they hold you in the
Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you
Were the last raw egg in the world. Then
They tighten up. Just a little. The
First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.
Soft into your defenselessness. A little
More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a
Smile that slides around the fear. When the
Air disappears,
Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,
Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.
It is your juice
That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.
When the earth rights itself again,
And taste tries to return to the tongue,
Your body has slammed shut. Forever.
No keys exist.
Then the window draws full upon
Your mind. There, just beyond
The sway of curtains, men walk.
Knowing something.
Going someplace.
But this time, I will simply
Stand and watch.
Maybe.
6.2k
You drank to escape and to ease
Instead your desires clouded your soul
The whimper shouts from the inside to stay still
To sleep alone another night
To stay good and do what's right
Is ignored as your demon is above my shoulder
And your whisper is in my ear
As you wait til silence marks my lips
That is when you make your slay and cause me to slip
Surrounded by darkness, defenselessness
You suffocate my pleads of no
As you trick yourself into illusions of my conscious consent
And you shame me down,
My mind absent as you expose my lifeless, bare body
And my blank stare
Did you see my eyes?
They were speaking to you,
Asking why,
If you saw that girl that used to hang around and laugh
Or did you see a piece of meat, incomprehensible of what you were capable of doing
So vulnerable, she'll never tell
Oh sly you, thinking it was okay
To let everyone see, leaving invitations for the unwanted
And me to break upon their touches
My flesh bruised with fingertips
My mind ****** with their urges
Blacked out from shame and guilt
Only Its my fault, I deserved this filth?
You took away the last of my innocence
Left me unwanted and broken,
Not knowing love but only to be used
I didn't chose this, you abused and created this
Left behind once thought friends
They turn into monsters I fear
We all so broken,
From the fairy tales of love we mourn
So we seek love in the bottom of the bottle
To feed the power of denial
As we justify our actions fueled by the beast
To hurt and destroy others
so we can share the pain and ruin of loneliness together
An illusion of unity as we slowly slaughter one another
To black out the last of our guilt
Only we turn into the thoughts of our filth
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 2:57 PM UTC
I’m from hopelessness,
Where self-mutilation looks classy.
I’m from defenselessness,
Where bruises turn red instead.
I’m from the Land of Oz,
Where the long winding road seems endless.
My glittery shoes seem broken though.
I’m stuck in a world I don’t deserve.
My sorrow evident, my suffering clear.
Life’s not so bad when your living in fear.
I’m from frustration and envy,
I just don’t know why.
A comfortable lifestyle is easy to come by.
Stuffed bear by my side, he swallows my tears.
I’m from the moments I spend, hiding away.
I sympathize with Rosaline,
How was she to know?
Snubbing Romeo would be so disastrous.
Or Snow White, so close to death;
Yanked back by an uninvited kiss.
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 3:41 PM UTC
Your subjectless Objects of capital, the agency bereft GDP drones, O! America,
They are spilled on the pavement, an upturned ice cream cone of discontent
puddled and lackadaisical, they fester beside the hydrant.
Your news agencies and malls, the damp dishrags of industry,
snagged on the nail of defenselessness and exploitation, only infect the wound.
Each mess of a person, walks through the sugary malaise of your suffering
dragging it on to the next in communal forbearing; its contagion, its disease
is so many cysts on the mind of those syrupy vacuoles for capital; the private,
malignant caverns of dewy-eyed trust in humanity, insipidly drawing the rancor to a boil,
without understanding a thing.
You pride yourself on much, without eyes for the condition of your people,
O! America.
People, shackled in your jails, are so many ideas bubbling as to the cruelty of your nature
punctured by the ignorance outside.
Draped in your obnoxious flag, the cites are as malicious as the countryside, toward life, toward knowledge.
You prop-up the price of their crops, the know-not-whys, who plunder the earth to prolong population growth and consciousness-decline.
America, you eradicate discontent with cattle cars, filled with questioning life forms, gasing our minds and burning our bodies with your arrogance.
Like a popcorn bag steaming in the microwave; you have been left alone too long, and have developed a flame-- an inextinguishable flame of reason.
You have been disavowed too LITTLE.
You must not be allowed to expand any further, lest the impoverished bag of flesh which is mankind will burst.
But still you stagnate, until your violence curdles with drones and bombs patrolling our synapses.
Our brains digest your violence against us and **** it out with an abused dialect of greed and hate.
Then you ask us only that we eat from your refuse heap of burnt kernels from the “truth” of market economy.
You taste like cancer. You rot the mouth of competent men, and satiate the anxieties of those who would turn against you-- with a refreshing ice cream cone of absentmindedness
dropped on the ground and melting.
But the stains you made will always taint the sidewalk of man.
Jun 20, 2011
Jun 20, 2011 at 12:26 AM UTC
Not in the mind are the waves crashing hotly
Steam baths of time wake first unsettled in their skin
The king - though naked - wears his robes only
Comforted by the power society has given him
Yet to wake unafraid fair weather on the street
A high orange yellow moon corn in the fields waving
Purity on the tips of her dry winter worn fingers
A path toward defenselessness to part from restlessness
Who each man wanes to be yearns to live longer
And the man who is who is without effort
Understands that the struggle through life
Is the only true one worth mentioning and fighting for
Empty gun shells from the law man and on his books
The empty hills play with mans mind as the coyote cries
Ah' diamond black bay sprinkled with maddening brilliance
A ship sails with only a captain but no crew
You smile as if you have been here too long
But I know inside your pride says you've just arrived
Careless heart wavering in the wind like a lost kite
Dust settles on your bed as the woman's gone off
And left with herself instead of you
Each claim you carry is a weight that ****** you like a tack
And everything you hate is everything you lack
Don't ask me to carry you cause' I don't have any slack
The boat that carries us was not meant to take us back
And as I said fear is only the start of what is yet to come
The gold in the riverbed has its own dangerous song
And where you are headed
Is where you have always belonged
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 3:06 AM UTC
When I was young, I used to watch across the wall As men walked up and down the street Wino men old men Young men sharp as cheddar. See them Men are always going somewhere. They knew I was there eighteen and nineteen years old and thirsty for them. Under my pupil, they would pause. Their shoulders high like thr height of a mountain top, Blazer tails slapping over Those behinds, Men.
One day they hold you in the snug of your arms gentle as if you were the last crisp dollar in the world. Then they tighten up just a little The first squeeze is nice A quick hug Soft hug soft into your defenselessness. A little more, the hurt begins, Wrench out a smile that slides around a fear. When the air dissapears Your mind pops explodibg fiercely Like the sound of a gun shot. Shattered it is your juice that runs down their legs. Staining their shoes when the earth rights itself again, And taste tries to return to the tongue Your body has slammed shut Forever no keys exist.
Then my pupils draws upon their style. There just beyond the sway of curtains, men walk. Knowing something going someplace But this time I will simply stand and watch.
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
I long to spend lazy hours with you.
Hours upon hours upon endless moments upon sleepless nights and sleepy mornings.
I long to breathe under your fingertips and kiss your heavy eyes closed.
I long to listen to your unconscious movement and diagram your restlessness on the dark curtains that are my eyelids; curving, jumping lines that separate moments of cognitive terror.
I long to feel your tensions release, clothed by comfort found beneath my skin.
The strain of unconscious thought, and the simple weakness of letting go; the innocence of your defenselessness in the night.
Childlike beauty in the slack muscles that envelope the soft bones of your face
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 10:38 AM UTC