"deficient" poems
Polite
Typical
Smiley
Daughter
Pointlessly
Trusting
School
District
Professor
Turns-blind-eye
Struggling
Drastically
Packets
Turn-to
Stacks
Deficient
Panic Attacks
Turn-to
Self
Destruction
Pulling
Teeth
Sick
Design
Plans
To
Stop
Discussing
Peace
To-her
Silence
Disturbs
People
Talked
She
Distracted
Passed
The
Snacks-to
Dinners
Pulled
The
Same
Dimensions
Pre-K
Then
Smaller
Didn't
Pause
Third-Grade
So
Dead
Parents
Though
She
Drowned
Piled
Thoughts
Suffocated-her
Dexterity
Patient
There
Suffering
Depression
Problems
To-many-to
Score
Dispute
Progress
That
Shockingly
Developed
Potentially
Taken-away-the
Suffering
Dramatically
Poor
Tiny
Sweet
Doll
Part
Traumatized
Sleep
Deprived
Phobic
though
Sixth grade
Doesn't
Play
Though
Six-Years-of
Death
Until... The little girl, learned she had,
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
and, school treating her badly is only one of her three traumatizing events.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC
I feel like I am neurologically deficient
That a lot of my brain cells are missing
Like a punch drunk doped up punk boxer
A pimply muscle bound ***** on steroids
Hanging out at my old high school locker
No shocker that I am no medical doctor
But I always thought I’d be just a bit better
I guess on average I am a little bit smarter
But the bar is set so low that it requires
Very little to grow and go over it, you know
In comparison to the other young men
I may be grandstanding and one upping them
But when it comes to grand scheme of things
When compared to past people
Who shared my glorious dreams
Like Percy Shelley and John Keats
Like Ginsburg and the other Beats
I think I am drifting of course just a bit
Lest we all forget the **** cut the crap to fit in it
Maybe I’m okay few travel this way anyways
So who’s to say if I’m doing it the wrong or the right way
But I still feel like my brain needs a chemical treatment
A diet with more nutrients and sufficient Supplements
Because I’m feeling neurologically deficient
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
Against the lavender of a Capricorn:
less chubby at age fourteen than at eighteen,
produced at the wrong time.
Her stars are their least private in December,
moths pick up ovaries and eggs
from below her dress
left behind from relationship number one.
A lesbian curse, no offspring
for her girlfriend was a Capricorn spirit too.
A nymph who took ten seconds to leave
though eight years to disappear:
nurses say, “it just hurts for a moment,”
but needles ruin your whole ******* week.
But out of two Capricorn women,
one is sure to get pregnant.
The first’s not heard of powdered milk,
nor would she have any,
calcium-deficient so others break her bones.
She has a cabinet of amber orbs
held with sickly insects, a million years old
and brown hair in like tiny ***** of yarn.
Some parts of a person can belong to another.
This was not their cornflower-eyes
but an ability to bear child from straight ***
female parts tangled like herbs and stars.
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 1:00 AM UTC
I'm told its best to eat low on the food chain
so if its okay
i'll start at your feet
and work my way up tenderly
excited like a child climbing a great tree
for the first time
aspiring to your kind mouth
but forgive me my love, alas my manners
have left me
and
i fear i'm stuck between your thighs
your shimmering slit has me woozy
oooh candy red lolly
so very cherry jolly
my favorite color since i was six years old
you know
and so wet like babies drool
can we open this butter cup
it all loving alizarin silk
a gift for my tongue
splashing pink
little fluttering bull frog
ready to turn into your prince
the taste of epiphany
my attention deficient disorder
vanquished
my learning disabilities evaporated
why didn't they teach me to read like this
i can taste the entire alphabet inside of you
numbers come with colors now
making sense suddenly
i feel the alchemy of poetry and art
high mathematics and astrophysics
i hear the music of the spheres
and every molecule
of
the earth giving birth
to the spice of creation
next you say,
would i like to know the constellations of heaven
yes please my lady
i'm definitely going to kiss your ***
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 4:34 PM UTC
Stink up the beer house with unadorned putrid self-thoughts.
Poppy-eyed and hating others is easy for blue bottled buggers.
A sweet thing for you!
A growing circle of six-legged empty.
Filled to the brim with puffed up space. A white brim with a shiny red exoskeleton.
Oh, what a dreadful sight!
Hair strewn across a face and hooked into the teeth of the blushy lullabied insect screech.
Clear liquid not blood, but blood all the same on an empty stomach with full vein-shot bones.
Not milky bones with calcium-love..
A dead, deficient, cracked, neglected, insufficient skeletal frame, limp.
Yellowed with hate-smoke and old book notes.
Splintered, crazed and buzzed through the gridded bulging eye-window of every single one of those insect like Self-Loathers.
Chosen out of pure sympathy "We should talk more"
.......To the sun, the moon and the stars?
Every star mocks,
Every beam scoffs
and every moon likes to deride on the pain that hides beneath the lies of human bug eyes.
A simply formed pound of vertebrate flesh leaks soft plasma on the scaly moth floor.
Oh how we are dusty and unsure!
Forestry consisting of a Sitka Spruce and of a Japanese Larch was a claim I made from the start.
Over gardens of attention arachnid lurking selfish bugs and even those half winged "friend people".
The bell has rung the scariest of chimes and with every soul wrenching 'ding' a furry fang digs at the blotchy eyed, softly fleshed girl.
Oh such a sweet thing to be surrounded by selfish bugs who spin webs with tear stained tissues!
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 2:19 PM UTC
My thoughts are chemicals.
I am made of recycled cells
That I ingest, I take in what's best
For optimal health, active or at rest.
My DNA as mysterious as the Cosmos,
The Cosmos less of a mystery than Ocean floors.
I come from the Ocean, an awesome notion,
A family with all others, every Thing is a cousin.
My ancestors all made it to reproduction.
I am assembled, through history, through selection.
My traits have been crafted, positively reacted.
Nurtured by Nature, genes that have lasted.
I am made from the stars,
Drink water that passed through dinosaurs.
I experience Life, though filled with a bounty of strife,
Through eyes of a Human, intelligence my paradise.
And though my species feels more advanced
And in control of a world we craft with our own hands,
We are not self-efficient, resources increasingly deficient,
A virus to be easily shaken, in which the planet would not be missing.
I have a fleeting gift,
Amidst the destruction that here lives,
And that is my consciousness,
No fear of abyss, no promise of bliss,
But in my spark of a lifetime,
Seemingly insignificant, and that's fine,
I have inside endless thoughts with my mind,
No need of afterlife with a gift so divine.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 12:19 PM UTC
The elegance of her ardor
Captures you and lures you into her clean hands
But living in this cynical world, with overflowing grimace
Many souls lack to understand
Why her stride is full and incandescent
She posses a sweet force were every murmur she whispers pushes you to listen
A voice fully soft spoken
It's a gentle breeze through your ears
In the absence others' may make you feel
In her presence, you are here.
The quantum she share is as petite as her frame
Longing for more, she makes it impossible to maintain
Straight forward.
Her ratherness for avoiding the curves and steeps that one can provide
Would leave you at a daze with desire
A fire inferno
Burning inside of your eyes
Seconds and affection she hardly gives
Made her a tenacious woman in twenty-one years
But the love that she gives.
Oh.
The love that she gives
Is more sweeter than honey in a tomb of one thousand years
Seeing men fall into her deep dark abyss
From their own creation and temptation they couldn't resist
Attempting to crawl back into reality, after losing themselves
You would think she's a Black Mamba
A hunter
Looking for a prey to lead astray
But she's only a sweet soul that God humbly perfectly made
A gift that many fail to contain
That makes every Man yearn and kneel to pray
There is No woman like her
Her ineffable felicity you will not find
Her Respect, you'll give
Or you will not live
Unintentionally,
She posses the power to take over your mind
With every thought you feel
Her time isn't wasted on pleasures and life's immorality
She's the meaning of a blessing
She fails to degrade her self down to worlds level
You'll fall in love with her originality
Some would go far as calling her stuck up
A *****
But a deficient mind wouldn't comprehend
She's a woman of God
Of wisdom
And your respect she demands
Perfectly sane
To me she's a courageous lady
Some men call her dangerous
But Me,
I call her Shady
Copy Right 2013
©Patty Ann
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 2:28 PM UTC
I am so smart, I can fool myself
but I am too stupid to figure me out.
What's your problem?
If you don’t stand for something,
You will fall for anything.
Now pick yourself up, get a number and wait for your turn.
I think, therefore I am over qualified.
And that’s why you work here.
No, it’s not ignorance nor arrogance
I’m just smarter than you.
Were you born deficient or are you just stupid today?
Do not believe or even read every word that I have written.
Do not believe everything you think.
Remember you are special, just like everyone else.
Remember to take your smart pills.
I can see you had an extra bowl of stupid for breakfast this morning.
Then stop pretending to be stupid, that’s just dumb.
When you leave home, don't forget where you live and
don't forget your pants, again.
Ask me about my ability to annoy anyone any time.
That’s Mr. ***** (aays - ol - aye) to you, it’s Esperanto.
And yes, it is part of my charm thanks for asking.
Are we having fun yet?
The daydream is the free thinkers nightmare,
what do you think? never mind
Perjury murdered imagination, without an assault rifle,
or second amendment rights, without mass media
or an internet connection. What's your excuse?
I didn’t say it was your fault, I said, I was going to blame you.
So, how does it feel to be back on the hamster wheel?
C’mon man really?
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 10:25 AM UTC
To set a goal and be "class clown"
Is not something good, I'm stating
I was the one who wrote his words
I was the "class clown in waiting"
A yard stick and a winter toque
A voyaguer I now was
To inherit a new character
As I aged, became a loss
Was bullying the reason for
Hiding behind a mask
Or was it something deeper
That made me take this task
A true class clown has no regrets
Of what they say or do
Their only goal is laughter
And that they'll get from you
Attention seeking misfits
Not in my book, there was no way
You couldn't be a misfit
And say what they would say
A true "class clown"'s an artist
Knowing when to make a scene
Knowing when a situation
Needs a lift, or at least a lean
Voices with strange accents
Silly faces set the stage
You get the class all laughing
While the teacher fumes with rage
Move on from the "class clown" name
And pursue it with a crowd
Do you really crave attention?
Do you want the laughter loud?
Or were you starved for some attention
Something you never got at home
Were you troubled as a child
Did it cause your mind to roam?
Were you deficient in your memory?
Couldn't handle work at school?
Or did you really crave the laughter?
Because on stage you could be cool
I envy people who were clowns
There were many in my life
To just be free with who they were
To dance upon the knife
I never was the top banana
I was always second, on the side
I always worked well as the set-up
But I came along and rode the ride
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 11:37 AM UTC
there are lots of different ways to tell someone you love them.
(it’s a pain in the *** to burn music onto a blank CD and handwrite a track list)
there are so many signs we miss as we are crudely blanketed and silenced by the alarm of being emotionally disarmed and unprepared for war.
(i can’t believe you still try to make me throw up my feelings and set them at your feet as a sacrifice)
humanity’s horrific tendency to dismiss our most crucial feelings and toss them down the garbage disposal is, more often than not, a reflection of how we treat ourselves.
(i’m never gonna quit reminding you how pretty you are, so shut up and take the compliment)
the basis of our existence resides solely on how we perceive ourselves, so why don’t we take a closer look?
(i will never understand why you can’t see how talented you are. you’re not that stupid)
the precision in which all of our flaws and quirks fit together is the equation to which we are the answer. if you solve all of them simultaneously, then your world would end up containing a significantly deficient amount of peculiarity.
(dork)
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 10:37 PM UTC
Were you a summer citrus fruit?
I'm unsure.
You struck me with a sweetness
So demanding it curled my tongue;
Flooded my mouth with hours of sunlight
And warmth.
I peeled you eagerly down
Knowing each sliver as I handled it
Consumed with the simple scent
Of something so pure and clean.
Eagerly cast aside, I exposed
The sweetest secret
And felt your balmy flesh with my fingers
Learning each groove and plain
As if you'd never wither.
Silken skin brushed my lips
And I felt the hours of sun,
The showers of rain that resonated
In each pace of time that shaped you
Into the gentle perfection before me.
Tasting all of that, I swore you were a flavor
Somewhere between citrus
Summer grass and lilac.
Were you a citrus fruit?
Who knows,
But in your absence
Any sweetness has been a
Vague reproduction
An echo of a necessity
That tasted of luxury.
Winter has settled in
And paley, I am deficient.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 11:02 AM UTC
When Dorothy trod the paths of Oz
Her companions were deficient:
One lacked Courage,
One lacked brains,
One was heartless, but
Ax Proficient.
She was an illegal alien,
from Kansas, of all
places!
Imagine, when she and
Toto came-
the look on people’s faces.
Still that was seventy years ago.,
In another place and time-
Just before we went to war
against evil personified.
If Dorothy, today,appeared
with a similar convocation
The Wizard might mistake them
for a Congressional Delegation
For lack of brain and heart and spine
Our Congress is more than sufficient-
Some lack Courage, some lack brains
Some are heartless but
tax proficient
Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 11:41 AM UTC
Born free,
what have you been branded to buy as truth?
You couldn't help but consume the prime conditioning,
angelic thing, they manipulated your blank, slated value with price
Impressionable infant, deficient heuristics anchored in tradition
were all you were given, they represented trend's definition of right
Blind to blinders set by frames,
you will never long for sky you've never seen
While you've been growing, who's been leading?
Who's been sowing, who's been reaping?
Now you are as you're told.
Now you are as you're sold.
You didn't see how your movements were determined: causal reinforcement and cogged belief systems
Hunters exploit the needs of the herd and they traded you meaning for all you were worth
Customerary compliance made you meek and the markets less violent
Your standardized schema had felt so secure, while their fashion pruned passion's significant core
Blind to blinders set by frames,
you cannot be free if you don't see your cage
While you've been growing, who's been sneaking?
Who's been sowing, who has been reaping?
Now you are as you're told.
Now you are as you're sold.
They'll come as salesman, promised happiness in their wares
They'll come as preachers, with taxing cross for you to bear
They'll come for your time, your money
They'll come for your life, and your sunny days
will be grey without that which you never knew you needed
No, you never ever needed
What have you been branded to buy as truth?
You won't choose to see your reflection on the discount shelf,
reduced to pelf, you let them establish the goods so you could be saved
from spending efficient economy, it's ironic that you're their battery
and though their floor is your slaved ceiling, you give your Self away
You won't see your light inside
if you're guided by other selfish minds!
How did you begin?
What have you been?
Who are you now?
Jul 5, 2011
Jul 5, 2011 at 7:27 PM UTC
just a poem it was
A poem of love at most!
in the form of
a flower,
a rainbow,
a bird ,
a tune,
a word ,
a picture
*
Some came in written
in technological terms
Some quantized
as futuristic incense
*
You have sensed it all
the untold
Even long before my say
*
Not ‘the all’ go though
through
You know … once you can close yourself,
set a fence…
*
but in that latter case
although you may have done your best
to shut these gates
It seems they have reached premises against
without my knowing
aethēr so lucid does trespass
once built an absolute bridge through souls of equivalent selves.
*
Each n every time is mine a hopeless cry to make you furious ?
A touch at the physical and meta-physical to eventually develop anti-sense?
*
Naturally so easy
As you reside at an exact opposite side of me
*
Angered n equally frustrated
in rage of a momentous burst
You sell my identity
<Intimately-shared-digital>
to a dreadfully operating net-entity
and target me as if to spears
oh how that really hurts
maybe you wished so
but no not really
*
a boomerang brings in a rhyme
of a thoughtless action
returns it to the center of a rotating spiral
where you stand
the exact opposite end
*
I won’t allow though
You to frown
this way you learned to simmer n cool down
became a clown of your own ghost town
as we’re entangled beings
already since sometime
*
so let me just also have fun
Instead of you- bring me down
On the competing wheel game of up n down
Oh no there we sit not anymore!
*
Realize to have targeted a wrong one
Once it is so much alike an opposing side or a town or a crown
Of you and both eventually you!
So wonder in sane what did I do
And put a SPAM mask on
To warn me through
and clearly do as if you were one of them:
an Intellect-Deficient-Agent scam.
*
So let me just P.S. a burp here now
Haven’t learned to develop gallstones of anger to compete thyn
but joy at most with a parasympathetic smile
Take it as a blessing if you like or a teasing
that she has you loved so without your willing
and equally convert it to a bile.
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 4:42 AM UTC
The sunrise burns the sky
A carefully coloured explosion
Blooded light flooding the low Kent fields that lie
Before Maidstone, excreting soundless motion:
Yellow carnation shards sway
With this violent advent of day.
In Hucking Estate diaphanous bluebells nestle
Beneath the groping canopy
Of Ash. Oak; the encroaching stinging nettle
Shields the frequent woodland scree
Covering with a verdant flush
Brooks that through the stones invisibly rush.
Within the hour, the Gorgon-headed sun
Sweeps aside the cloud-
The red into blue and orange has run
And in Lower Fullingpits Wood the increasingly loud
Shuffling of badger attacking vole, fox strangling rabbit,
All compounded into daily habit.
The Kent Downs rise and fall
Like resurrected earth-bound music from a time
When hill, wood and pool
Emerged from unfettered chalk and lime.
Before the Cantii hunted in ancient Wents Wood,
For deer and boar, spurred not by hunger but for the love of blood.
Above the sparrow-hawk attacks the sparrows
Claw enmeshed in feather,
Beak unravelling neck. The unalterable sorrows
Of nature and weather.
Cruelty never ceases, but just gets more efficient-
Kindness remains deficient.
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 3:41 PM UTC
Under flu attack
Nasal congestion combats
My tissue's defence
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
By the time it becomes visible
I'll have been in hell for quite a while
Tight mittens binding up my hands
Tempered wince behind the smile
Moist cement ...three feet deep
And a mind that won't think straight
Clumsy and slow...trudging along
In a fogged deficient state.
Simple things become so great
And the pain won't let me be
Slumber 14 hours long
Meet the new..unimproved...ME.
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 11:14 PM UTC
silencio
green headless are on the counter
screaming their watch-less glare
they lie silent in their wrathful stare
at my wall-less lair
this was not supposed to be
the bilipid layered says
I cannot watch you out to die
the zeroes yell this time
coreless deficient famine
the clock ticks its time
i think my mom is at the dock of the sea harbor in Sublime
and don't their lobsters never die?
if that is cake then so be it
and then we will make you mine.
chant with me,
hey no more negativity,
we'll go out and find a dime
it was till then I saw the ******
at the rear end of the bus
who told me... no more... no less
was what the bus was fee-d
a journey travelled
and journey lost
to Target I ventured to and back
and here the sandless land
I find you
weighed measured and broken
by your own laughing stairs.
llorando
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 2:17 AM UTC
they told me that i am deficient of attention,
but how can that be when i have memorized
every freckle dotted on your cheekbones and
every white-tipped scar mapped across your skin?
maybe it's because my mind can't make room for
anything else, because you are all i see when i close
my eyes and the first thing i see when i open them
they told me that my depression is in remission,
like a cancer that has spread throughout my body
only to go dormant, to lay quiet just beneath the
surface, waiting to try to drag us down yet again.
they told me that this was good news, i can be happy,
but all i could hear was the sound of the tide
always waiting for its turn to take me out to sea
they told me that i sit on the borderline of two states
of existence, subject to the shift between love and hate
and passion and wrath and infatuation and heartbreak,
always trying to ask you which person i should be.
like the flower i used to pluck the petals from
in my youth, constantly whispering to myself,
"i love you, i love you not, i love you, i love you not."
they told me that this means that i can get better now,
that putting names to the faces of the skeletons in my
closet will allow me to bury them in their rightful place,
that i can finally learn to ease my grip and let things go.
but it has taken almost two decades to find my way here,
to finally answer the question of what is wrong with me,
and the journey to get here was long, and i am tired.
May 4, 2021
May 4, 2021 at 9:24 AM UTC
She doesn't pay compliments, nor does she pay rent.
She comes and goes freely, just as she pleases and generally doesn't clean up after herself. But she raised a good man, and for that I can't be too harsh.
She isn't very social, nor does she like to be touched, or hugged.
She is extremely homophobic and against same-sex marriage, although she's had 4 failed marriages. She thinks it's okay to marry a man half her age to make him legal to work for her, but not okay for two people who love each other with the same anatomy to do the same. But she raised a good man, and for that I can't be too harsh.
She lost her job a few years back, she lost her house about a year ago. She went to nursing school although she should've been retired, and she bought a $500 dog although she was broke. But she and I get along okay. Due to her domineering personality, I have to usually stay inside myself and not speak my mind to avoid stupid conflicts between a modern-age woman and a woman who wished she'd have been a small-town housewife.
She took her son to find a ring for me, and although I know she's against marriage, she must see some of what he sees. I pride myself in being tolerant and I think that goes a long way with us. So much has changed in the six years since we first met, and I know she, more than both of us wished she had had it turn out much differently. I guess she probably has to swallow a lot of what little pride she has left. She is probably more uncomfortable than I've ever been.
She is a hard-headed, impossibly independent, civil-issue intolerant and socially deficient 62-year-old Woman who leaves her dishes lying about and who has several times let my indoor-only cat out. But she raised a good man, and for that I can't be too harsh and must always be in her debt.
The end.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 11:35 PM UTC
Feel like I'm floating. People talk but I don't really hear. Bought a cat cause I'm lonely but now I despise it because it needs.
Windows have frost, maybe vitamin deficient. Jack it to memories of a faceless beauty on a night that cared so long ago.
But now I'm haunted. I'll see it soon. Just wish I could be alone; truly, truly, truly alone. Where no light shines but withers
Jan 22, 2021
Jan 22, 2021 at 9:35 PM UTC
Drifting through life
Roaming into void
Alone in the world
Everything destroyed
None to care
Nothing to adore
Absent a goal
Deficient a core
He walks alone
No one to mind
Memories of nothing
His world is blind
Thy only friend
Has been his thoughts
Trust in no one
Love to him rots
Feelings don’t equate
Emotions a bear
No room for regret
His soul rare
His shoulders carry
The worlds worry
His cross to bear
His vision blurry
Life is cold
Hell is hot
Prison is lenient
Love is not
The ground at his feet
The wind at his back
Rain in his face
Mind under attack
Lost in the dark
Destination unknown
Traveled to far lands
No seeds to be sown
Somewhere to be seen
There is a place
Where the world sees him
And accepts his face
Along the horizon
He sets his heart
That someone would want him
To never be apart
From one place to another
No mind body or soul
Unneeded throughout
Enduring his stroll
Life without meaning
Spirit without guide
Body without tone
Ocean without tide
One day it will come
Lightning from the sky
Opportunity awaits
Where there is no goodbye
His lonely eyes
No one sees
His ability so great
But no one agrees
If someone would risk it
Bliss would be found
For he would give all
His love would astound
Alas he keeps moving
His stride none the swifter
No ones concern
Because he is the drifter
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 7:34 AM UTC
a kingdom of rotten tomatoes
they spit their seeds for the harvest of tomorrow
one over the other they topple
waiting for instructions
"i'm waiting for the day to live"
one says over the other
one over the other
a red pool of friends
everything's my favorite
in between the cumbersome vines they hear
of the escape
the hand that reaches up into nothingness and picks the chosen one
ripe for plucking, into a palm if you're lucky
a unexplained romance to be devoured
don't leave us here to fall, they cry
berry of the nightshade come closer
their potassium-deficient king
is lifted from his ill-ridden bed and fed
feast into the sweet juice of a fruit ready to die
'a milky embrace between the tomato queen and i'
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 5:20 PM UTC