"deflection" poems - Hello Poetry

"deflection" poems

They had played for too long. The stretching shadows sang in minor whilst tackling gusts scratched the colour from his hands and tugged wire through her clutches. Their fettered aircrafts swooped in plunging shifts: seconds of clouded rhapsody and cotton screams- equalled in deflection and discord. Their colourful counterparts climbed higher, twisting in solar breezes. They gaped upwards with tense suggestions neither knowing how to sever their tangled kite-strings.

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Oct 20, 2011

Oct 20, 2011 at 1:10 PM UTC

They had played for too long. The stretching shadows sang in minor whilst tackling gusts scratched the colour from his hands and tugged wire through her clutches. Their fettered aircrafts swooped in plunging shifts: seconds of clouded rhapsody and cotton screams- equalled in deflection and discord. Their colourful counterparts climbed higher, twisting in solar breezes. They gaped upwards with tense suggestions neither knowing how to sever their tangled kite-strings.

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Yet I Am Ready Watching the waves eat away the castles made of sand Staring at the way wind is churning at infrastructure land like a big bad wolf who found the fear and lean foundation of a brick house I am ready for her hand I am all ready Traversing fields filled with fruitless wonders burning tundras rolling thunders A Man attempting to put out its grand made funeral pyre with nothing but a Jack and Jill bucket filled with reverse osmosis electrolyte infused hydrogen oxygen expired prayers I am Ready for no man land I have a radio already Listening to Nokia raven chirps and bubble bee gyrations. Evergreens whispers as wild blooms break concrete and asphalt and building plans giving smiles to homeless man and woman dreamers flowering in the night lights that were supposed to replace stars I am ready for the woods to takeover the hoods for bear feets to take over the streets for napkins to become extinct to write with my god-given red ink so that my being will dye into stone and dirt To leave my DNA on my mothers belly and hear her cry As she covers my mouth closes her eyes tearful from radioactive winds let her know that I loved her and hugged her every chance I could I am ready to give up me for we have not given back enough We have devoured the essence and forgotten how to seed and harvest the nothing has become us which is why Earths flesh is colored rust like blood mixed with scratching dust we have bruised the body and wonder if we can blame something someone else but US Every time the finger points the object of our deflection disappears Rearrange the letters she was trying to help us HEARt Rearrange the letters EARth is trying to make us Heart I'm trying to make us Ear These MTHFCKRS are among US. We have bred them with our love lust still unaware that they a fungus These MTHRFCKRS have become US they save a life to **** it from us. they manufacture fakes to stunt us These MTHRFCKRS have become US Ideas devoid of what we need to come up She must go now and rip it from us We must shed our blood just to fund us Cause these MTHRFCKRS have out done US

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Apr 12, 2017

Apr 12, 2017 at 5:58 AM UTC

These MTHRFCKRS Have Become US

Yet I Am Ready Watching the waves eat away the castles made of sand Staring at the way wind is churning at infrastructure land like a big bad wolf who found the fear and lean foundation of a brick house I am ready for her hand I am all ready Traversing fields filled with fruitless wonders burning tundras rolling thunders A Man attempting to put out its grand made funeral pyre with nothing but a Jack and Jill bucket filled with reverse osmosis electrolyte infused hydrogen oxygen expired prayers I am Ready for no man land I have a radio already Listening to Nokia raven chirps and bubble bee gyrations. Evergreens whispers as wild blooms break concrete and asphalt and building plans giving smiles to homeless man and woman dreamers flowering in the night lights that were supposed to replace stars I am ready for the woods to takeover the hoods for bear feets to take over the streets for napkins to become extinct to write with my god-given red ink so that my being will dye into stone and dirt To leave my DNA on my mothers belly and hear her cry As she covers my mouth closes her eyes tearful from radioactive winds let her know that I loved her and hugged her every chance I could I am ready to give up me for we have not given back enough We have devoured the essence and forgotten how to seed and harvest the nothing has become us which is why Earths flesh is colored rust like blood mixed with scratching dust we have bruised the body and wonder if we can blame something someone else but US Every time the finger points the object of our deflection disappears Rearrange the letters she was trying to help us HEARt Rearrange the letters EARth is trying to make us Heart I'm trying to make us Ear These MTHFCKRS are among US. We have bred them with our love lust still unaware that they a fungus These MTHRFCKRS have become US they save a life to **** it from us. they manufacture fakes to stunt us These MTHRFCKRS have become US Ideas devoid of what we need to come up She must go now and rip it from us We must shed our blood just to fund us Cause these MTHRFCKRS have out done US

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a man privately asks, can you help? you say, sure-no-hesitation let me think on it for a day or two, he says yet you act even before he comes back, too late, you say, when he returns, too late, he repeats in puzzlement, yup, my check is in the mail, cause one senses the need is dire plus, plus you well recall the immutable obligation when a vague commitment of “just ask” was inked in a long ago message, a poem born from/in the days when you slept in the car on the street this vague promissory, a more enforceable judgement in your own court of law than any state construct or the judgmental eyes of a silenced god word, honor, do. thus it begins, an unwritten contract inked, an egregious interest rate of 0% proffered and agreed, commences a plain white envelope trickle, a check inside, by postal mail, slowly it came, month by month, inch by inch, Niagara Falls ^ years go by, and then comes a day, when the accompanying check and its gift wrapped note says, Paid In Full! and so much for the tedious minutiae... *like kindness, I do, Thank You and Your Welcome are high on my list of proofs of daily human extensions existential,* Paid in Full, *now rests at the top of the list let me be blunt, the thrill of being a party to a deal with no handshake, just coated in the honorable words waterproof sealant, with a person I likely may never meet, made me so better assured of whom many claim I am, a mathematical proof revered and kept mind inscribed, it was an aspirational **** an unforeseen monthly blunt, the best feeling good smile, a kick in the pants about what really matters being paid twice over and me, getting by far, the humanity confirmation, the better half of the deal write too often of honor, and yet, will instinctual do again, again overpowering my rays of will, for there is no deflection, only reflection for the glorious riches gifted and received, without compare the return on my honorable investment the best ever* oh brotherhood, oh brotherhood, I am paid in the currency coined from brotherhood...

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Feb 26, 2019

Feb 26, 2019 at 11:30 AM UTC

the brotherhood of paid in full

a man privately asks, can you help? you say, sure-no-hesitation let me think on it for a day or two, he says yet you act even before he comes back, too late, you say, when he returns, too late, he repeats in puzzlement, yup, my check is in the mail, cause one senses the need is dire plus, plus you well recall the immutable obligation when a vague commitment of “just ask” was inked in a long ago message, a poem born from/in the days when you slept in the car on the street this vague promissory, a more enforceable judgement in your own court of law than any state construct or the judgmental eyes of a silenced god word, honor, do. thus it begins, an unwritten contract inked, an egregious interest rate of 0% proffered and agreed, commences a plain white envelope trickle, a check inside, by postal mail, slowly it came, month by month, inch by inch, Niagara Falls ^ years go by, and then comes a day, when the accompanying check and its gift wrapped note says, Paid In Full! and so much for the tedious minutiae... *like kindness, I do, Thank You and Your Welcome are high on my list of proofs of daily human extensions existential,* Paid in Full, *now rests at the top of the list let me be blunt, the thrill of being a party to a deal with no handshake, just coated in the honorable words waterproof sealant, with a person I likely may never meet, made me so better assured of whom many claim I am, a mathematical proof revered and kept mind inscribed, it was an aspirational **** an unforeseen monthly blunt, the best feeling good smile, a kick in the pants about what really matters being paid twice over and me, getting by far, the humanity confirmation, the better half of the deal write too often of honor, and yet, will instinctual do again, again overpowering my rays of will, for there is no deflection, only reflection for the glorious riches gifted and received, without compare the return on my honorable investment the best ever* oh brotherhood, oh brotherhood, I am paid in the currency coined from brotherhood...

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Society moves like a bullet And there's no way to cool it We're not big fans of reflection So we become slaves to deflection Bouncing off of hard surfaces Like limiting gun purchases Constriction isn't part of or vocabulary Proliferation is all we know Watching weapon supplies grow I live in a country Riddled by bullets Bullets that blast through our ****** body Though the holes in our mind are bigger When we can **** those we think are naughty We become judges when we pull the trigger But the media makes mountains out of molehills And it is for those exaggerated reasons we **** We are stuck in a bullet storm When TV advertises bullet **** This helps make bullets the norm So we treat mass shootings with a familiarity Because we can't acknowledge the only similarity Is obviously the gun We're blinded by the sun Of defense contractors They're negative reactors When we purpose a change The conversation they rearrange By firing in every possible direction This is the aforementioned deflection And it works You can tell because people are dying Or standing in the street crying Or watching the news sighing Bullet time has wooed us Bullet crimes have moved us There are people who gain wealth From our diminishing health They hold society on their rope And the only way we can cope Is to ****** that rope from their greedy grasp and pull it But that's hard to do while being punctured by bullets

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Nov 7, 2017

Nov 7, 2017 at 3:21 AM UTC

Society moves like a bullet And there's no way to cool it We're not big fans of reflection So we become slaves to deflection Bouncing off of hard surfaces Like limiting gun purchases Constriction isn't part of or vocabulary Proliferation is all we know Watching weapon supplies grow I live in a country Riddled by bullets Bullets that blast through our ****** body Though the holes in our mind are bigger When we can **** those we think are naughty We become judges when we pull the trigger But the media makes mountains out of molehills And it is for those exaggerated reasons we **** We are stuck in a bullet storm When TV advertises bullet **** This helps make bullets the norm So we treat mass shootings with a familiarity Because we can't acknowledge the only similarity Is obviously the gun We're blinded by the sun Of defense contractors They're negative reactors When we purpose a change The conversation they rearrange By firing in every possible direction This is the aforementioned deflection And it works You can tell because people are dying Or standing in the street crying Or watching the news sighing Bullet time has wooed us Bullet crimes have moved us There are people who gain wealth From our diminishing health They hold society on their rope And the only way we can cope Is to ****** that rope from their greedy grasp and pull it But that's hard to do while being punctured by bullets

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By: Cedric McClester You know he’s full of stuff When the evidence ain’t enough And he’s acting like a cream puff By not calling Putin’s bluff If I labeled him a scaredy-cat Or better yet Putin’s new doormat Would that raise the thermostat, And flush out that Norway rat? When the evidence is irrefutable To the point that it’s not disputable His response is always mutable And comes out as most unsuitable Then his mouthpiece attempts to frame An alibi, but we’re hip to her game She can’t absolve him of the blame Though she tries to just the same So you better believe and trust That she looks ridiculous When she’s being duplicitous By trying to fool the rest of us It’s a sin to stand there and lie But she gives it a college try Like the mistress of deny As if the Ten Commandment don’t apply They interfered with our election With a clear cut interjection Of cybernet deflection Without protest or objection Two days before his inauguration He was told of the Russian’s participation Much to his own consternation Yet he still voices reservations Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018. All rights reserved.

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Jul 19, 2018

Jul 19, 2018 at 1:15 PM UTC

cedric-mcclester

YOU KNOW HE’S FULL OF STUFF

By: Cedric McClester You know he’s full of stuff When the evidence ain’t enough And he’s acting like a cream puff By not calling Putin’s bluff If I labeled him a scaredy-cat Or better yet Putin’s new doormat Would that raise the thermostat, And flush out that Norway rat? When the evidence is irrefutable To the point that it’s not disputable His response is always mutable And comes out as most unsuitable Then his mouthpiece attempts to frame An alibi, but we’re hip to her game She can’t absolve him of the blame Though she tries to just the same So you better believe and trust That she looks ridiculous When she’s being duplicitous By trying to fool the rest of us It’s a sin to stand there and lie But she gives it a college try Like the mistress of deny As if the Ten Commandment don’t apply They interfered with our election With a clear cut interjection Of cybernet deflection Without protest or objection Two days before his inauguration He was told of the Russian’s participation Much to his own consternation Yet he still voices reservations Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018. All rights reserved.

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~ Money alone chips away at sanctioned walls Porous, your deflection is my bane I loath the chasm this singularity has instilled between us. ~

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Jan 7, 2018

Jan 7, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC

andrew-kerklaan

~ Money alone chips away at sanctioned walls Porous, your deflection is my bane I loath the chasm this singularity has instilled between us. ~

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I never mastered the grind. That won every girls affection. I guess it's really quite difficult. When you become your own deflection. Once I was that nineteen year old. Drunk and disorderly. Grinding on your back. You got bored of me. Sure its fun - for both it seems. Sometimes it's a horrid match. A silly game with an undefined winner. Sometimes it's all you need to land your catch. But as you grow you see things clearly. The smoke machined air thins and the lights begin to brighten. You see the complexity of your dilemma. You've assumed you'd get it all - what a great big error. You want the beauty you've desired night long. But you've gone about it all wrong. You want the companion most never find. But will she see it or remain blind. It seems one is possible. Where do I go to be one whole person?

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Aug 8, 2015

Aug 8, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC

jack-thompson1991

One Whole Person

I never mastered the grind. That won every girls affection. I guess it's really quite difficult. When you become your own deflection. Once I was that nineteen year old. Drunk and disorderly. Grinding on your back. You got bored of me. Sure its fun - for both it seems. Sometimes it's a horrid match. A silly game with an undefined winner. Sometimes it's all you need to land your catch. But as you grow you see things clearly. The smoke machined air thins and the lights begin to brighten. You see the complexity of your dilemma. You've assumed you'd get it all - what a great big error. You want the beauty you've desired night long. But you've gone about it all wrong. You want the companion most never find. But will she see it or remain blind. It seems one is possible. Where do I go to be one whole person?

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I see it in your eyes the fear that is its there you trying to hide but its written clear. you act like you don't care but its just your way of trying to make it all go away Acting like a man, but a boy at heart. Too scared to really try, the thought of failing, just tears you apart. Driven by jealously blacken your heart the darken by fear success of others eroding your rotten heart. You thrive off of illusions, all mixed win with confusion. You hide under excuses, that just playing a role, and acting a part. Using deflection, as something you have mastered like an art. You can run, and you can hide,but karma sees through the dark. And Life will catch up to you when things are looking up. and all the things you never thought matter are the things that mess you up. like that people that help when you were down, they were the crutches you used, to help yourself back up.

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Apr 10, 2016

Apr 10, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC

I see it in your eyes the fear that is its there you trying to hide but its written clear. you act like you don't care but its just your way of trying to make it all go away Acting like a man, but a boy at heart. Too scared to really try, the thought of failing, just tears you apart. Driven by jealously blacken your heart the darken by fear success of others eroding your rotten heart. You thrive off of illusions, all mixed win with confusion. You hide under excuses, that just playing a role, and acting a part. Using deflection, as something you have mastered like an art. You can run, and you can hide,but karma sees through the dark. And Life will catch up to you when things are looking up. and all the things you never thought matter are the things that mess you up. like that people that help when you were down, they were the crutches you used, to help yourself back up.

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How can I Falcon fly While I die In a web of lies Where they brutalize Us like flies We must communicate By connecting To avoid rumors of hate That are infecting The non-inspecting No problem detecting Yet happiness expecting Tyrant electing Issue deflecting Fascism respecting Public that's perplexing So the Internet should remain harmlessly neutral Instead of adding to our economic Kama Sutra Finding new ways to ***** each other Like restricting access to information So we won't hear the screams of our brothers To the rich and powerful's elation Dealing with this pseudo-fame Feels like a burdensome shame In order to listen to people I have to hear them talk But I fall into a deep hole When their ignorance is written in chalk Easily erased But also easily traced Yet not so easily faced Until we're easily replaced By the voices of our oppressors Promising to alleviate the pressure If we'll take a position that's lesser And never ask them to be a confesser Each electorate Must be kept separate And must be made desperate So take away their voices That should limit their choices The rich want to be molding the clay So they say to touch it you'll have to pay I can't sit here and stand it This particular predicament That's beyond my bandwidth Eating this **** sandwich Given by a grand witch So I add the name capitalist To my ******* list Which they seem to agree with They rationalize you have to be an ******* to survive They explain in business that's the only way to thrive Yet get upset when I call them the biggest ******** alive The Internet can do infinite good Yet it is minimized and misunderstood The faithless fathom It as a nameless chasm Made inside our rage filled cabins But they refuse to see the connections The healthy introspection And historical corrections They'd rather use deflection Mentioning mundane memes Or divisive digital teams They see the shell But not the turtle They put us in hell With a data girdle Everybody has the same capability to add to the Internet So they should have equal capacity to use the Internet Sometimes our economic systems make us act counterintuitively To what is fundamentally needed by our species Something humanity has never had before A comprehensive brain that can connect and inform us all We've seen money corrupt the minds of humans Let's not let it corrupt the mind of humanity

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May 18, 2018

May 18, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC

How can I Falcon fly While I die In a web of lies Where they brutalize Us like flies We must communicate By connecting To avoid rumors of hate That are infecting The non-inspecting No problem detecting Yet happiness expecting Tyrant electing Issue deflecting Fascism respecting Public that's perplexing So the Internet should remain harmlessly neutral Instead of adding to our economic Kama Sutra Finding new ways to ***** each other Like restricting access to information So we won't hear the screams of our brothers To the rich and powerful's elation Dealing with this pseudo-fame Feels like a burdensome shame In order to listen to people I have to hear them talk But I fall into a deep hole When their ignorance is written in chalk Easily erased But also easily traced Yet not so easily faced Until we're easily replaced By the voices of our oppressors Promising to alleviate the pressure If we'll take a position that's lesser And never ask them to be a confesser Each electorate Must be kept separate And must be made desperate So take away their voices That should limit their choices The rich want to be molding the clay So they say to touch it you'll have to pay I can't sit here and stand it This particular predicament That's beyond my bandwidth Eating this **** sandwich Given by a grand witch So I add the name capitalist To my ******* list Which they seem to agree with They rationalize you have to be an ******* to survive They explain in business that's the only way to thrive Yet get upset when I call them the biggest ******** alive The Internet can do infinite good Yet it is minimized and misunderstood The faithless fathom It as a nameless chasm Made inside our rage filled cabins But they refuse to see the connections The healthy introspection And historical corrections They'd rather use deflection Mentioning mundane memes Or divisive digital teams They see the shell But not the turtle They put us in hell With a data girdle Everybody has the same capability to add to the Internet So they should have equal capacity to use the Internet Sometimes our economic systems make us act counterintuitively To what is fundamentally needed by our species Something humanity has never had before A comprehensive brain that can connect and inform us all We've seen money corrupt the minds of humans Let's not let it corrupt the mind of humanity

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(Ain’t “They” Great!) Now watching 13 year old grandkid live-on-streaming-Internet, playing Little League baseball in California, pleasantly surprised, No, not by the amazing technology, or his super great play, but the laugh-out-loud accommodation to the “au courant” Game announcer, a soulless robot machine, stupid-smart, without exception, employs THEY pronoun for all, which after 10 seconds thot, of serious reflection is a brilliant deflection, a solutionary salutation! We come to see kids play ball, care not a whiff (double entendre), re identity politicized insanity, machine makes everyone truly equal, robbing stupids of a phony, proclamation of self-righteous “individuality” God Bless No-Brainers! Ain’t They Great! ~Postcript~ Introducing a newly Recomposed Natty: still an OWG (old white guy) but now a Proudly, a gaily machine-made, in the USA They.

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May 30, 2023

May 30, 2023 at 10:46 AM UTC

Ain’t “They” Great! (I RE-compose myself!)

(Ain’t “They” Great!) Now watching 13 year old grandkid live-on-streaming-Internet, playing Little League baseball in California, pleasantly surprised, No, not by the amazing technology, or his super great play, but the laugh-out-loud accommodation to the “au courant” Game announcer, a soulless robot machine, stupid-smart, without exception, employs THEY pronoun for all, which after 10 seconds thot, of serious reflection is a brilliant deflection, a solutionary salutation! We come to see kids play ball, care not a whiff (double entendre), re identity politicized insanity, machine makes everyone truly equal, robbing stupids of a phony, proclamation of self-righteous “individuality” God Bless No-Brainers! Ain’t They Great! ~Postcript~ Introducing a newly Recomposed Natty: still an OWG (old white guy) but now a Proudly, a gaily machine-made, in the USA They.

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rain falls on roof tops acid desecrates energy in the air rain falls onto us sprinkling in your hair we look perfect skin soft deflection corrupts meaning but the acid obliterates any sign of fear pain that we bear is nothing for vanity gasping for a breath to see past depression bear the burden of self awareness with me move forward lovely words to follow we mean them dearly insert our minds into perfect reality

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Aug 7, 2021

Aug 7, 2021 at 12:28 PM UTC

rain falls on roof tops acid desecrates energy in the air rain falls onto us sprinkling in your hair we look perfect skin soft deflection corrupts meaning but the acid obliterates any sign of fear pain that we bear is nothing for vanity gasping for a breath to see past depression bear the burden of self awareness with me move forward lovely words to follow we mean them dearly insert our minds into perfect reality

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Maybe you were never ready to carry a weight that’s so heavy. If you can’t set the course, you’re going to need to follow. You can bring water to a horse but you can’t make it swallow. You have to put your foot down to ever take a step forward. From the city back to town, from space bound to homeward. But she’s a Medusa with a mirror, frozen inlove with her own reflection. You scream your lungs out but even near her, you’re always ignored;under detection. Maybe you were never prepared to share a burden that should never be shared. It’s been a few years; it’s been some time since you lodged your last complaint. I’d like to believe you’re now doing fine, and you’d like to believe you’re just a saint. You have to put your foot down to ever take a step forward. Follow the air bubbles to not drown don’t turn a drama into a horror. But she’s a Medusa with a mirror, frozen inlove with her own reflection. If she can’t move will you still fear her, and her manipulation and deflection? I sometimes forget Medusa was victim to a curse, and I never tried to make it better but I sure as hell made it worse. Maybe Athena could’ve been more forgiving and kind, she didn’t have to leave her living, or she could’ve made her blind. She could’ve plugged her ears so she wouldn’t have to hear the screams of the men who holds fears of a woman who dreams. She could’ve ripped off her nose or just taken her voice, sometimes that the way it goes you just don’t get a choice. But she’s a Medusa with a mirror, frozen inlove with her own reflection. Even if she could scream no one would hear her, and long ago got used to the rejection.

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Apr 8, 2025

Apr 8, 2025 at 12:50 PM UTC

Medusa With A Mirror

Maybe you were never ready to carry a weight that’s so heavy. If you can’t set the course, you’re going to need to follow. You can bring water to a horse but you can’t make it swallow. You have to put your foot down to ever take a step forward. From the city back to town, from space bound to homeward. But she’s a Medusa with a mirror, frozen inlove with her own reflection. You scream your lungs out but even near her, you’re always ignored;under detection. Maybe you were never prepared to share a burden that should never be shared. It’s been a few years; it’s been some time since you lodged your last complaint. I’d like to believe you’re now doing fine, and you’d like to believe you’re just a saint. You have to put your foot down to ever take a step forward. Follow the air bubbles to not drown don’t turn a drama into a horror. But she’s a Medusa with a mirror, frozen inlove with her own reflection. If she can’t move will you still fear her, and her manipulation and deflection? I sometimes forget Medusa was victim to a curse, and I never tried to make it better but I sure as hell made it worse. Maybe Athena could’ve been more forgiving and kind, she didn’t have to leave her living, or she could’ve made her blind. She could’ve plugged her ears so she wouldn’t have to hear the screams of the men who holds fears of a woman who dreams. She could’ve ripped off her nose or just taken her voice, sometimes that the way it goes you just don’t get a choice. But she’s a Medusa with a mirror, frozen inlove with her own reflection. Even if she could scream no one would hear her, and long ago got used to the rejection.

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"God. You're so ugly without your makeup. You know you really shouldn't show your face in public. You don't want to end up on that People of Walmart website." Yeah I know. "No seriously. You look like you've been hit by a bus." Nope. Not hit by a bus. Just your ****** comments. "You know they say sarcasm is just a deflection of an internal struggle, it's an underling issue to something bigger. Maybe you're going crazy." I'm not going crazy. I'm getting my **** together. I'm in college now. "Yeah, sure." No. I wake up at a reasonable hour everyday. I take a shower and do my hair and make up. I do my homework and I make good grades. How can I be crazy when I'm getting my **** together. I have my **** together! "Look at your room." What about it? "It's a mess." So what? "It's a mess. Just like you are. You are a mess." I am not. "You can shut the door and pretend it doesn't exist. Just like you're doing with that mask you put on every morning. Beyond these walls you're a fake. But behind them, they show who you truly are." And what's that? "That you're crazy and chaos. Your room represents what's on the inside. You're falling apart." I am not crazy. "Not crazy? As if. You've just been talking to your reflection for the past 10 minutes. Just like you have every day for the past four years. Just wait sweetie, one day I'll come out and play."

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Nov 20, 2016

Nov 20, 2016 at 12:49 AM UTC

"God. You're so ugly without your makeup. You know you really shouldn't show your face in public. You don't want to end up on that People of Walmart website." Yeah I know. "No seriously. You look like you've been hit by a bus." Nope. Not hit by a bus. Just your ****** comments. "You know they say sarcasm is just a deflection of an internal struggle, it's an underling issue to something bigger. Maybe you're going crazy." I'm not going crazy. I'm getting my **** together. I'm in college now. "Yeah, sure." No. I wake up at a reasonable hour everyday. I take a shower and do my hair and make up. I do my homework and I make good grades. How can I be crazy when I'm getting my **** together. I have my **** together! "Look at your room." What about it? "It's a mess." So what? "It's a mess. Just like you are. You are a mess." I am not. "You can shut the door and pretend it doesn't exist. Just like you're doing with that mask you put on every morning. Beyond these walls you're a fake. But behind them, they show who you truly are." And what's that? "That you're crazy and chaos. Your room represents what's on the inside. You're falling apart." I am not crazy. "Not crazy? As if. You've just been talking to your reflection for the past 10 minutes. Just like you have every day for the past four years. Just wait sweetie, one day I'll come out and play."

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She turns her head from it; I turn my back to it; It faces them in their deflection, they who are ruled by planetary alignment, they who spill rogue waves from calm mouths, just as the lace crashes and pools around bare legs and lips - Any enigma free from transcription lies within the chasm, who sleeps buried deeply between two bodies, too deeply, it has been said, though perhaps for the best, as the truths who precede intent rest there as well. We, the sea, urge in ad hominem, convinced of indelibility, consistent in breakage and dispersment of that which is built from and upon determined chaos. Her, I, the sea. Our madness. I turn towards it; she turns to face it; The sea has drawn it's long breath We reach for the exhale with open palms, never closed, for the retreat is inevitable.

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Jun 3, 2014

Jun 3, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC

Determined Chaos

She turns her head from it; I turn my back to it; It faces them in their deflection, they who are ruled by planetary alignment, they who spill rogue waves from calm mouths, just as the lace crashes and pools around bare legs and lips - Any enigma free from transcription lies within the chasm, who sleeps buried deeply between two bodies, too deeply, it has been said, though perhaps for the best, as the truths who precede intent rest there as well. We, the sea, urge in ad hominem, convinced of indelibility, consistent in breakage and dispersment of that which is built from and upon determined chaos. Her, I, the sea. Our madness. I turn towards it; she turns to face it; The sea has drawn it's long breath We reach for the exhale with open palms, never closed, for the retreat is inevitable.

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The wind blows a cool breeze speaking a language that I can only hope to understand The sun shines through the barriers of leaves cascading down to hold me tightly, comfortably The foliage steady underneath my unsteady feet promises to give me balance The water buries the sand pulling it back into line always returning it safely home A soft creature appears from behind the green wall crouching curiously in fear, denial Unable to speak like the wind it simply blinks, both yellow eyes; once, twice, three times The long fur covering it's body blows with the western breeze head tilted towards the east It rises on two feet; remains stationary, despite the wind pushing it back An array of colours catches light from the creature; yellow eyes, purple fur, black teeth The deflection of colours creates a rainbow around the creature; a force field It casts no shadow despite the downward sun trying its hardest to expose the creature The array of colours surrounds the creature fading away with the sun behind the leaves. The foliage struggles against its foot moving forward in a staggering motion as if they were glued Fallen leaves crumble underneath its feet and flowers rot to a bruised purple Like quicksand the ground tries to swallow the creature, hold it still despite its strength Quicksand is not quick enough, the creature shuffles through the dying foliage The water retreats, taking the sand with it, gathering as large an army as possible The creature continues forward, the water continues back as far as it can before returning to shore They meet in an unwelcome collision the water trying to push the creature back, unsuccessful The creature emerges from the water droplets of water being repelled from its fur The wind changes direction pointing at me whispering words of caution whispering, yelling The sunlight illuminates me, sweat drips down my face like tears as if to say: hide The ground shakes and trembles beneath my feet urging me to move, keep moving The water reaches for me with open arms to hide in amongst the sand, to return safely The creature spots me; staring unflinchingly, it stares back into my eyes with yellow ones It's fur directing it towards me urges it onward dragging it alongside the cool breeze It's feet start toward me slowly as the trembling ground regains its posture so does it I stand in awe of this beautiful creature, so frightful so delicate aiming for me "Humph" the sound of it colliding with me is carried away with the wind, long gone The sun gleams off its black teeth blinding me before I feel it rip into my neck tearing flesh The green, brown, purple ground lay stained with my blood dripping from its mouth The incoming tide holds my hand one last time as the creature drags me back behind the green wall

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Feb 25, 2016

Feb 25, 2016 at 8:18 AM UTC

joanna-louise-alexandre

The wind blows a cool breeze speaking a language that I can only hope to understand The sun shines through the barriers of leaves cascading down to hold me tightly, comfortably The foliage steady underneath my unsteady feet promises to give me balance The water buries the sand pulling it back into line always returning it safely home A soft creature appears from behind the green wall crouching curiously in fear, denial Unable to speak like the wind it simply blinks, both yellow eyes; once, twice, three times The long fur covering it's body blows with the western breeze head tilted towards the east It rises on two feet; remains stationary, despite the wind pushing it back An array of colours catches light from the creature; yellow eyes, purple fur, black teeth The deflection of colours creates a rainbow around the creature; a force field It casts no shadow despite the downward sun trying its hardest to expose the creature The array of colours surrounds the creature fading away with the sun behind the leaves. The foliage struggles against its foot moving forward in a staggering motion as if they were glued Fallen leaves crumble underneath its feet and flowers rot to a bruised purple Like quicksand the ground tries to swallow the creature, hold it still despite its strength Quicksand is not quick enough, the creature shuffles through the dying foliage The water retreats, taking the sand with it, gathering as large an army as possible The creature continues forward, the water continues back as far as it can before returning to shore They meet in an unwelcome collision the water trying to push the creature back, unsuccessful The creature emerges from the water droplets of water being repelled from its fur The wind changes direction pointing at me whispering words of caution whispering, yelling The sunlight illuminates me, sweat drips down my face like tears as if to say: hide The ground shakes and trembles beneath my feet urging me to move, keep moving The water reaches for me with open arms to hide in amongst the sand, to return safely The creature spots me; staring unflinchingly, it stares back into my eyes with yellow ones It's fur directing it towards me urges it onward dragging it alongside the cool breeze It's feet start toward me slowly as the trembling ground regains its posture so does it I stand in awe of this beautiful creature, so frightful so delicate aiming for me "Humph" the sound of it colliding with me is carried away with the wind, long gone The sun gleams off its black teeth blinding me before I feel it rip into my neck tearing flesh The green, brown, purple ground lay stained with my blood dripping from its mouth The incoming tide holds my hand one last time as the creature drags me back behind the green wall

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The cold hearted boy who stole a kiss. Plenty a times I had been so wise, that's before I fell for those hazel eyes. The eyes that held the secrets which lead to your lies. Those lies that I despise but it didn't matter in the eyes of the cold hearted boy. As the space between us grew the hole in my heart did too. Only was it fixable by you the cold hearted boy. The words that you threw oh those harsh words, oh there was nothing left to save in you. All that time you spent to be mine, I bet you almost convinced yourself. Scared you were, when not used to the feeling of affection. You used full force deflection and ran. It's your immediate reaction. With no idea of the of the trail of betrayal you left behind, you fled you cold hearted boy. But there is a knife built up of your guilt stuck in your chest. Impaling you shredded heart with each lie you speak. Never again shall I be so weak, to let a cold hearted boy take my hand and lead me to my bed. Where I shall spend my nights after crying for the loss of the cold hearted boy who treated me like nothing but a toy

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Oct 27, 2015

Oct 27, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC

The cold hearted boy who stole a kiss. Plenty a times I had been so wise, that's before I fell for those hazel eyes. The eyes that held the secrets which lead to your lies. Those lies that I despise but it didn't matter in the eyes of the cold hearted boy. As the space between us grew the hole in my heart did too. Only was it fixable by you the cold hearted boy. The words that you threw oh those harsh words, oh there was nothing left to save in you. All that time you spent to be mine, I bet you almost convinced yourself. Scared you were, when not used to the feeling of affection. You used full force deflection and ran. It's your immediate reaction. With no idea of the of the trail of betrayal you left behind, you fled you cold hearted boy. But there is a knife built up of your guilt stuck in your chest. Impaling you shredded heart with each lie you speak. Never again shall I be so weak, to let a cold hearted boy take my hand and lead me to my bed. Where I shall spend my nights after crying for the loss of the cold hearted boy who treated me like nothing but a toy

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When affection is met with rejection, the whole section of confidence is affected, introspection leads to a new direction, and the infection is seen in reflection, this correction changes your outlook's protection and your eyes meet with objection, your new perception is dissection and detection, close inspection ends up as an inflection, another deflection and another ejection, looks like another for the collection, no perfection, no hope for a connection

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Nov 23, 2013

Nov 23, 2013 at 1:07 AM UTC

Jaded - Mono-Rhyme

When affection is met with rejection, the whole section of confidence is affected, introspection leads to a new direction, and the infection is seen in reflection, this correction changes your outlook's protection and your eyes meet with objection, your new perception is dissection and detection, close inspection ends up as an inflection, another deflection and another ejection, looks like another for the collection, no perfection, no hope for a connection

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Piecing together a story with timestamps from letters you published, and clues raining down like hammers, (which is to say, at first dangerous, and then amnesia-inducing, leaving me certain I was delirious all along) you asked me “what kind of person are you?” and I hesitantly shrugged, “whatever kind you need me to be, if only I can.” If only I can. I can be a mirror, a reflection, a deflection, a misdirection, an inter-introspection asking only what has already been asked before, rapid-fire and firing faster, until it shatters like “what kind of person are you?” and “what do you see when you look at me?” and "how can you see what's looking at you, if you didn't first know to look to see?” and "what if we run out of things to say or questions to ask?” and “how many bites does it take to get to the centre of a person?” and "if I promise there's no venom in my fangs could I bite into you?” and I wonder what you taste like.

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Mar 29, 2017

Mar 29, 2017 at 8:49 PM UTC

What Kind of Person Are You?

Piecing together a story with timestamps from letters you published, and clues raining down like hammers, (which is to say, at first dangerous, and then amnesia-inducing, leaving me certain I was delirious all along) you asked me “what kind of person are you?” and I hesitantly shrugged, “whatever kind you need me to be, if only I can.” If only I can. I can be a mirror, a reflection, a deflection, a misdirection, an inter-introspection asking only what has already been asked before, rapid-fire and firing faster, until it shatters like “what kind of person are you?” and “what do you see when you look at me?” and "how can you see what's looking at you, if you didn't first know to look to see?” and "what if we run out of things to say or questions to ask?” and “how many bites does it take to get to the centre of a person?” and "if I promise there's no venom in my fangs could I bite into you?” and I wonder what you taste like.

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I smile because I am eager To not disappoint Because I don't fit I Lie I am a Liar I say what is pleasant Promises of tomorrow Take the fall Not because I'm a bad person I'm thoughtful Using little lies White necessity Like Everyone using them When the truth Like me, can hurt instead I spare them I'm so nice I Lie I am a Liar I use the very same reason for nobody but myself most of the time So I can hide it away So fluent am I In this art of deflection Protecting the lesser parts of me so selfish, so frightened so embarrassed by my faults, Short-comings, things I don't like So I lie I am a Liar See me, I am perfection So easily liked, I am lovely, thoughtful, caring Tell me from the lies? I have lost the ability Who am I? I Lie, I am a Liar, Selfish, uncaring Insecure and hiding my reasons Concerned not, for others Unless it's their judgements, So I Lie, to be, to fit, to please, to pretend Who am I? I won't answer that honestly I Lie I am a Liar, I blend in beside them

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Oct 11, 2013

Oct 11, 2013 at 4:38 AM UTC

jack-r-fehlmann

I smile because I am eager To not disappoint Because I don't fit I Lie I am a Liar I say what is pleasant Promises of tomorrow Take the fall Not because I'm a bad person I'm thoughtful Using little lies White necessity Like Everyone using them When the truth Like me, can hurt instead I spare them I'm so nice I Lie I am a Liar I use the very same reason for nobody but myself most of the time So I can hide it away So fluent am I In this art of deflection Protecting the lesser parts of me so selfish, so frightened so embarrassed by my faults, Short-comings, things I don't like So I lie I am a Liar See me, I am perfection So easily liked, I am lovely, thoughtful, caring Tell me from the lies? I have lost the ability Who am I? I Lie, I am a Liar, Selfish, uncaring Insecure and hiding my reasons Concerned not, for others Unless it's their judgements, So I Lie, to be, to fit, to please, to pretend Who am I? I won't answer that honestly I Lie I am a Liar, I blend in beside them

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serves: one (because you'll probably die alone) difficulty: simple, but overthink it anyway ingredients: one cup anxiety an ounce of depression a splash of paranoia a dash of deflection a lack of concentration the fear of rejection garnish with mood swings a side of obsession served: on the rocks (shaken, not stirred) instructions: add tequila and drink until symptoms subside

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Oct 5, 2015

Oct 5, 2015 at 1:22 AM UTC

mental health cocktail

serves: one (because you'll probably die alone) difficulty: simple, but overthink it anyway ingredients: one cup anxiety an ounce of depression a splash of paranoia a dash of deflection a lack of concentration the fear of rejection garnish with mood swings a side of obsession served: on the rocks (shaken, not stirred) instructions: add tequila and drink until symptoms subside

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mirrors, marble floors, windshields, ice, metal and painted surfaces. comments, hockey pucks, bullets and tossed horseshoes that changed direction. need to know, blackout censorship, who you know and what you said to whom. could be logic, could be pay, could be power, could be it ends this way light or images veering and twisting please redact me and let me go for I don't want to be in the dark and treated like a mushroom anymore. from the gross left with a net and you have earned your trap. on reflection, deflection redacting, deductions a quiet pool of still water will give you a clearer image and rocks won't shatter the water, they make waves and rings and distortion but ... watch and learn and return to the truth about you! ©ClemC012014

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Jan 21, 2014

Jan 21, 2014 at 11:06 PM UTC

A quiet pool of still water is safer

mirrors, marble floors, windshields, ice, metal and painted surfaces. comments, hockey pucks, bullets and tossed horseshoes that changed direction. need to know, blackout censorship, who you know and what you said to whom. could be logic, could be pay, could be power, could be it ends this way light or images veering and twisting please redact me and let me go for I don't want to be in the dark and treated like a mushroom anymore. from the gross left with a net and you have earned your trap. on reflection, deflection redacting, deductions a quiet pool of still water will give you a clearer image and rocks won't shatter the water, they make waves and rings and distortion but ... watch and learn and return to the truth about you! ©ClemC012014

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A most liturgical darkness pains the spidery veil of prey and prayed upon star. Hardwon quietude differentiates obsolete centers to contrive an offing. Timeless hands go up in deflection, as to abort the scene whose spelling could not boast a mouth synchronous with them. The growth spurt of insult to injury topples the bucket of well water down the throat. Alas, at morning...alert me to my stable, that I may act in accordance.

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Apr 10, 2015

Apr 10, 2015 at 11:10 AM UTC

Alert Me to My Stable

A most liturgical darkness pains the spidery veil of prey and prayed upon star. Hardwon quietude differentiates obsolete centers to contrive an offing. Timeless hands go up in deflection, as to abort the scene whose spelling could not boast a mouth synchronous with them. The growth spurt of insult to injury topples the bucket of well water down the throat. Alas, at morning...alert me to my stable, that I may act in accordance.

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You are like a paisley sunrise - A tapestry of gorgeous spirit. Your sheets radiant with laughter Are patchouli spiced dances In the sweltered tunings of cooling dusk. Now Eros' altars wafting incense; Sepia backbones stir spectral sighs. Poised for splendid primal reckonings Back door brains melt lucid minds For in fluidity we thrive. Through eyeing eternity the prophecy is absolved By monastic deflection I Gained what the animals saw Gypsy moth set your passion in plaster Metamorphosis looms wherein Wings strive thereafter

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Feb 20, 2013

Feb 20, 2013 at 1:29 AM UTC

You are like a paisley sunrise - A tapestry of gorgeous spirit. Your sheets radiant with laughter Are patchouli spiced dances In the sweltered tunings of cooling dusk. Now Eros' altars wafting incense; Sepia backbones stir spectral sighs. Poised for splendid primal reckonings Back door brains melt lucid minds For in fluidity we thrive. Through eyeing eternity the prophecy is absolved By monastic deflection I Gained what the animals saw Gypsy moth set your passion in plaster Metamorphosis looms wherein Wings strive thereafter

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"...How terrible the stump of the woodmen, Their blunted shapes lumped under the sheets of snow..." --Roy Doughty From such a wrapping, the elegy proceeded, the last blanket tucked below the bare feelings extended, stripped of their green fingers like perception following thought into deflection. Abstractly, a silent museum held power against the hill at a slope of durable rock. This granite pulled thinking together in its form. { [ _ int f ( x ) d x d t = = del _ f ( x ) d g d E ] [ // ( y ; N , Z ) ] } . It was allowed to like the experimental results of making lumps under the sheets of summer, to be ironed and smelted by the industry of the particular set, upon whatever planet survival could be accepted, floating between work and the play of its imagined universe, the sheets folded and placed upon a shelf like numbers.

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Jan 29, 2014

Jan 29, 2014 at 7:25 PM UTC

doctor-baron-joseph-uphoff

The Belief And Responsibility Museum

"...How terrible the stump of the woodmen, Their blunted shapes lumped under the sheets of snow..." --Roy Doughty From such a wrapping, the elegy proceeded, the last blanket tucked below the bare feelings extended, stripped of their green fingers like perception following thought into deflection. Abstractly, a silent museum held power against the hill at a slope of durable rock. This granite pulled thinking together in its form. { [ _ int f ( x ) d x d t = = del _ f ( x ) d g d E ] [ // ( y ; N , Z ) ] } . It was allowed to like the experimental results of making lumps under the sheets of summer, to be ironed and smelted by the industry of the particular set, upon whatever planet survival could be accepted, floating between work and the play of its imagined universe, the sheets folded and placed upon a shelf like numbers.

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