"demeanor" poems
Its a new day
She wakes from the nights sleepy darkness
Knowing the body under the covers doesn't fit her
But as she drifts in and out of the mornings gentle hold
Her dreams and mind forget the body under the covers
And she finds herself dancing in a waterfall
Swimming like a mermaid she reaches the edge of the pool
Shaking her beautiful long curls, and dressing
In her silks and flowing lace.
She smells the forest through a female nose
All the beautiful woods and flowers come alive within
Assuming the demeanor of a Princess
Walking the paths, with dust that sparkles
Settling on the ground behind her
But the dreams end suddenly, as the scent of coffee
Fills the room, and the sounds of cars passing outside
Bring her back, back into the here and now
The covers pull off, and the trousers come on, the shirt and boots that the day requires.
But as she walks out the door, to spend the day trying to be a man in a mans world, she gently smiles, knowing that her magical forest awaits its Princess, and soon she will return
by Lj Mark 2015
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 8:12 PM UTC
I hear your name everywhere
Your whispers in the buzzing of the bees
Your exasperated sighs in the beeping of the cars
Your ecstatic storytelling in the humdrum of random noises
I see you in every hue
Your calm demeanor in shades of blue
Your road rage in shades of red
Your cheeky laugh in shades of yellow
I taste you in every way
Your kiss in this smooth black chocolate
The warmth of your hand in this bowl of soup
Your icy stare in gulping this cold water
I smell you in every scent
Your warm hug in this cup of coffee
Your compassion in this bouquet of Stargazers
Your glistening eyes in this cigarette
Doctors, please help me
I have the rarest case of synesthesia
When it comes to you,
My brain malfunctions
My senses, once numb, feel everything
All at once
In the most passionate and
In the most heightened sense
To feel you in everything.
To experience you in every way.
My eyes only see you
My nose only smells you
My tongue only craves you
My ears only hear you
My brain only perceives you
My synesthesia
Is only in the form of you.
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 9:38 AM UTC
The curve of your bottom lip,
The contrast of red on your perfect white teeth,
Under that tilted half smile.
You’re shining at me.
The rough surface of your hands,
And how perfectly mine fits.
The smell of you so sweet,
So different, so perfect and calming.
Your demeanor so charming,
The way I’m pulled to you ,
Matched with the way you never
Ever let me go, never leave me alone.
Never tell me to go.
I’m lost in your big eyes,
Wrapped up in your big arms.
There. Is. No. place. Better. Than. Your. Chest.
Your better than my bed at home.
You are better than all the rest.
And I trust you more than you’ll ever know.
I’ve fallen so far in love, grown so far up,
You have fixed me and you’ll never know
The way your soft skin catches light a
A soft glow.
And I know, better than you know,
That you are everything good.
Love you my handsome man.
Mar 6, 2012
Mar 6, 2012 at 1:38 PM UTC
We tighten the noose
Around Nature
Making space for us
Enjoying the feeling
Of widening horizons
Lest we forget
We may be casualties
Of this demeanor
With no air to breathe
Leaving us gasping
The invisible noose
Tightening its hold
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 11:16 AM UTC
I remember,
My usual nonchalant demeanor going completely bananas in my cubicle of a room
After enlisting to deliver you ice cream.
No, not just any ice cream,
Strawberry with bananas and gummy bears.
I thought it as an awkward combination
But when I got in the car,
The sparrows were flying in two adjacent v-shaped formations.
Slightly puzzled, I pondered if maybe one day I'll meet a sparrow, or anything with enough courage to brave the skies,
Soaring, knowing in time, their wings will tire, and locating a perch is then of importance.
Because life's goal, humans and creatures alike,
Is to find a whisper of a nightingale's song,
Or, possibly, the eccentric taste of a spoonful of their favorite ice cream.
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 2:20 AM UTC
Animals walking on two feet with a vindictive demeanor and a lustful passion to multiply. Constructing tall grey buildings to rot in till their core. An infinity of dirt in the constricted paradise of cleanliness and sweat. They take poison to recreate their animalistic character; small round pills of concentrated electricity and happiness. Freedom in conductive shots.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 2:41 PM UTC
From the ashes I descend,
Rising among the flames,
As shades of red.
Orange and yellow,
Blend within the explosion,
Of my rebirth,
Claiming my life force once more.
My deep hazel eyes,
Drenched in golden brown,
Surrounded by a burst of jade,
Speckled with dark green,
Reveal my humility,
Compassion and genuine kindness,
Allowing you to behold,
The window to my soul.
The vessel,
Containing my spirit,
Conflicts with the feminine demeanor,
Exposing sincerity,
Comforting hands of a care-giver,
The voice of loyalty,
Gently escaping lips,
Tears of empathy,
Seeping with understanding,
Kisses of affection,
As soft spoken words,
Depict desires,
Hopes and the warmth,
Of pure love.
Mystery envelops my origin,
Becoming a mystical being,
With the ability to heal,
The potential to inspire,
Living proof of an alleged myth,
Yielding in protection,
As my plethora of feathers,
Shield the individuals I adore,
From darkness,
Attempting to swallow the light,
We yearn to discover.
Blind Thoughts of denial,
Shall forsake your eyes,
If you pass judgment,
Upon me,
For my cloak of skin,
Concealing my true beauty.
As a Phoenix,
I refuse to watch,
The children of diversity,
Suffer degradation,
Living in fear of discrimination,
Stifling the right to love another,
To dress in garments,
That correlate the body with the mind.
I shall rage to cease,
The hands of violence leaving bruises,
Ignorance stripping,
Breaths of air from a pair of lungs,
As homophobia,
Transphobia, and intolerance,
Deplete individuality from a heart,
Deserving liberty,
The pursuit of happiness,
A chance to survive.
The Earth returns my soul,
To reap the love,
Concealed in assumptions,
And sow acceptance into,
The fields of society,
As I continue,
To soar into a cerulean sky.
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 2:45 PM UTC
She hides her emotions
Deep in
I think her heart was broken
And its been bottled in
She has this shell around her
And a somewhat dark demeanor
But yet I see her beauty
Within her flaws you find perfection
We fell in love with no intention
And her personality humongous
Or shall I not mention
"Baby,he'll use"
"Maybe he'll change you"
"Surely he'll leave"
But they don't know I need you
They don't know what I know
They don't share what we share
She's always on the Gram
Scalping beauty from starving models
Does she not look in the mirror
Does she not see that enchantment
That beautiful black girl
With beautiful black hair
With a beautiful pearly smile
And Darling star eyes
Don't know if she gets it
But I need her
I crave her like a craze
She is the definition of
Amaze - ing
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 12:49 AM UTC
If you weren't dark skin you'd blush,
You and your pleasantly "spring" demeanor,
blooming smiles in secret inside your hazmat suit,
from any type of feelings,
you are already infected,
-- and contagious,
yet refuse to admit the goosebumps
on your neck,
without the fortunate luxury of showing your emotion
society has deemed you timeless,
an eloquent flagrant aroma,
the definition of fine wine with a zest -- a spiciness of an impatient "summer",
you are warm,
and the stem of your smiles comes with thorns of poison,
weapons of mass destruction,
so you're cloaked,
tucked away from societal norms,
and expectations -- who are we to judge,
you are correct,
your skin,
is the right tone,
to
grab the attention for all the unwelcome,
literal and figuratively baring a cluster of
ideas,
wants,
desires -- requested by only the elite,
pasteurized and preserved until then.
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
What Hope Remained?
What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
When putrid plumes dulled morning into night
Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent,
As mortals wept and earthborn angels went
With downcast eyes to clamber heavens height.
What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
When panicked sirens wailed a lost lament
And backs were bowed beneath ungodly weight,
Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent
As boots bore souls up treadmills burnt and bent
To scale a void devoid of dawning light.
What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
For those in sight of angels heaven sent
Atop the world to aid their mortal plight,
Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent.
When wingless brethren conquered feared ascent
To gift last hope to all who saw their might:
What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent.
In The Fall
I chanced upon a stranger in the fall,
Cosmetic garb of office black and white
Portraying calm demeanor of his plight
As shadows panicked on a stricken wall,
And oft' I find my mind in numb recall
To look upon that helpless human kite
Who tumbled from the terrors of a height,
Yet graceful as an eagle in a stall
Before it plummets earthward -- 'Neath the pall
Of twisted steel rended by follied flight,
That stranger lives forever in the light
Suspended in iconic timeless sprawl.
I wonder, in the briefness of his fall,
Did he derive the meaning of it all?
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 7:20 PM UTC
When I was 5,
The world seemed like this big place.
I was little, with no clue how to navigate.
But then, by chance I met you.
You, with your dark brown hair,
And eyes that belonged to an old soul.
I found a friend in you.
When your little, you’re still growing into
Your own person.
So there is no differences to separate you.
We were little and innocent.
We became connected.
But..
We blinked and suddenly we were no longer 5.
We were pre-teens in junior high,
With a little less innocence.
Always changing, always growing,
We still found a way to be inseparable.
We were best friends.
I found it easy to talk to you,
2 a.m. phone calls,
Telling you my secrets.
I never hid behind walls with you.
There was never a reason.
So I fell in love with you.
You, with your arms opened wide,
Making me feel safe.
Feeling like for once, I found my forever.
I found real love with you.
But...
People change, and grow.
People want different things,
They drift apart.
And found I wanted more,
Than the life we planned.
I found it easier to push you away,
Then to tell you the things in my life,
That became dark.
I pushed you away,
I rejected what you gave me,
Because I couldn’t trust anyone.
I didn’t think you’d understand.
So I hurt you.
You, with your calming demeanor,
And your happy life.
The way you walked on sunshine.
I couldn’t and wouldn’t darken that.
So...
Now we’re grown,
With children of our own.
We see their innocence,
We want some of ours back.
Because of the pain I put you through,
You locked me out of your life for 12 years.
So, now I’m letting you back in.
Letting you see the person I’ve become,
With the wall I’ve built to protect myself.
Letting you know the truth and see my scars.
Hoping that after all this time,
You can forgive me.
You, whom I hold on a pedestal.
The one friend I still love and respect,
And miss more than anyone else who has left.
You, who can still look at me,
And see something other than the darkness.
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 7:56 AM UTC
I stare into the half length,
double wide vanity that sits
poised in my two bathroom home.
It's reflection of me, naked and
unrefined, are often and unmistakingly
disappointing. But, no longer.
I will embrace my scars of battle. I
will soak in the curves and crevices
of the weight I carry with me.
Counting carbs and chasing carrots
with salad day after day were never
really even my style.
Health. Happiness. Heart. Those
are what matter. Cliche, yes. But true:
A number on a scale is nothing.
I clutch my sides and embrace the
mountains that ridge and peak
laterally on my canvas.
I embrace my full bust and curvy
thighs with earnest demeanor. I
am an image of me. Nearly 20.
No longer will I hold my head low
at a passing glance. I refuse to hide
in clothes too large to disguise my shape.
Beauty is who you are. It's not what
you look like according to the golden
ratios or whatever the hell "they" say.
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
Lou,
You're an orphan now.
The deciding vote
In your favor,
The good kisses,
The latent reconciliation
Linger in this thick room.
You won't need to clean chimneys,
Work in a blacking factory,
Get your ears pinched, and your **** kicked.
You've laid out a fine plaster effigy
In this cherry box;
Yet Enzo's nature is hidden:
His personal tears
And public laughter
Aren't in this demeanor
With rosary weaved into the basket of his hands.
We've polished our shoes,
So we stand and discuss
The crucifix wedged
To hold up the lid,
And how we follow our fathers' footsteps.
We knew it to end this way
With our fathers' generation.
*But you must know your father lost a father,
That father lost, lost his...*
I too am orphaned, Lou,
And we'll continue on
As orphans do.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 10:04 AM UTC
Look behind you,
What you may see may disturb you.
What you once were
isn't what you are now.
It's not the physical appearance; the way you dress
Not the tone of your voice,
the change in your character –
But the difference in your demeanor
You've developed from a carefree soul
to a figure you never imagine yourself being
The lines on your face,
developed from years of hardship;
days in which you endured, prevailed
fell back down, got back up again
Weeks in which you worked day to day,
Just to make ends meet. Months in which
You struggled to keep up on your feet.
Your past self imagined the world would be cold and dark.
In every way, you see it's worth it.
Worth each waking morning.
This may not be what you wished for
When you were younger...
...It's all a part of living life.
We eat, we drink, we live, we die.
Pay our debts to survive.
We have to live through hardships,
To make it throughout life.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 1:26 AM UTC
There’s a crack in my windshield growing bigger by the day
It’s like a manifestation of the words I want to say
Your calm demeanor disrupts my flow
There’s more to you; there’s more to know
Of all the people I never would have guessed
And I’ve never been good at the marshmallow test
This change of pace I don’t quite get
Please kind sir, are you in love with me yet?
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 3:27 AM UTC
The stereotype of the female type/ packing more than you give yourself credit for/
Spineless, backstabbing ******* in backless dresses fronting to impress dogs who are/
Barking at ******* that are easy to prey on/ hoping to get a good **** to sniff/
While your tail is out there waggin/ makin’ their tongues turn stiff/
There are many who live in that dog eat dog world/ And boy it can get pretty rough out there/ catch that innuendo?
You see, effing around is simple and it works like this; you F what you see/
Sometimes you find what you think to be ‘the one’ only to be deceived/
Because you believed what you saw and didn’t take the time to dig deep/
Next thing you know, your heart has been sunk in the pool of tears you weep/
You resort to a resolution to that’s easy to keep/ rectify to the erectified/
Yes, maybe some of this is harsh/ but if you cant handle the truth/
You wont know the difference between what’s right and wrong to do/
There’s a difference between a princess and a queen/
A princess who’s prince-less will settle for the frog/
While a queen knows how to stand on her own two feet/
Royalty is respected and they stand tough even when they’re rejected/
It’s hard to see something beautiful be used by a tool who’ll/
Only add her to the collection of his tool box/ then look for a new one/
But the reality of realism is/ reality can be pretty unreal sometimes/
And Miss Congeniality secretly believes the fallacy/ she wasn’t born to shine/
Selling herself at a price her mom would hate to see/
Giving out discounts because she can’t even count on herself/
The worst part is, it’s all manipulating her moral health/
And it’s demeaning her demeanor, being treated like Miss Demeanor/
But she didn’t mean for/ her life to turn to this/
She made three-left turns/ only to find the fourth right doesn’t exist/
Maybe a forthright person is all it takes to set her straight/
Boost her confidence/ make her feel great/ and tell her it’s never too late/
To find a new place to start over/ and get your mind in a better state/
That’s why this poem is called Tulip Teaser/ your own two lips are teasing you/
Impeding you from being you/ misleading you through your own garden/
But you’re better than that/ and there’s more to your garden than you think/
Just stick to your roots and let yourself grow to be the beautiful flower everyone likes to see/
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 2:11 PM UTC
Tiger, Tiger they all called him.
Faces marked with smiles grim.
Office buzzed with word tiger, tiger.
He was one but many they were.
Full day continued insincere flattery.
End of month 'twas, day for salary.
Then story took melodramatic turn.
Like tiger he moved, demeanor stern.
Outright he announced party that night.
Everyone attended in clothes bright.
They gossiped, danced and dined.
Happily they all boozed and wined.
He sat like a tiger circled by coterie;
And the total bill was half the salary.
I looked through magnifying glass;
And saw pack of wolves and an ***
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 6:32 AM UTC
he was standing there on the sidewalk
down on selma avenue.
legs wide apart
in a proud pose.
i didn't notice, until i got closer,
the dark wet spot blooming from his crotch
running down his left leg.
wow,
how i admired him.
his shameless demeanor,
this ability to let go.
i have tried for days now
to *** myself
with no success.
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 11:30 PM UTC
Electromagnetic Motion Ocean Of Pure Focal Emo-tion.
The Very Sound Of The Creators Verse And Rhythm In Loving Notion Pouring Through The Crystalline Endocrine Indoctrinated Shock Ra Of Shocking Unblocking Colorful Tones In Unmolested Focus And Definition.
To Flow Your Emo-tions Through Your Core And Manifest In Your Intended Notion All Without The Misidentified Horror Of The Wrongfully And Negatively Defined Emotions, One Finds That The Mere Act Of William Tell And That Apple Upon The Head Must Have Been One Hell Of An Interesting Interaction, Yet Instead Of The Reassuring Smiles And Calm Demeanor Of The Archer As They Lock Eyes, What Pray Tell You Think The Eyes Of The Archer Looked Like On That Very Frozen In Time Moment As He Released The Arrow To Guided Love Of Perfected Intent And Delivery Of Safe And Demanding Fortitude Of Action To Defeat All Possible Variable , As If To Need To Bend The Very Laws Of Nature If They Were To Cause An Number Of Odd And Unpredictable Events To Derail The Intent Of The Man Shooting The Apple Off The Head Of His Dear Child's Head, For Not A Bird May Pass Between, Not A Gust Of Wind Be Seen, Not An Earthquake Be Fabled To Accrue, Not A Single Action But The Undeterred Focus Of Absolute Might In Will, His Fee Will In Flight. What Might His Eyes Be Relaying In That Frozen Moment? Reassurance, Pity, Fear, Confidence, Or The Electric Fire Of Electromagnetic Motion Ocean Of Pure Focal Emo-tion To Get The **** Thing Done And Without Foolish ******** Reactions To The Real And True Focus Of Emotion, And Pray Tell, What If The Child Mistook This Look In A Moments Notice And Flinched Out Of Concern That The Father Was Angry With Him? Or Is It Best To Realize The Real Importance Of This Story As It Is The Trust In The Definitions Of Intended Focus And Not Of Simple Trust.? ,... Yes, Intended Focus Of Emotions Being Trusted As True And Not Negative In Nature, Dear Friend, Yes. So Let Your Soul Be Your Pilot, Let The Flow Of Emotion Be Free And Not Dictated By The Restraints Of Control And Be Seen And Used In Negative Ways, For These Are The Crimes Against All Mankind And The Bigger Part Of Why Spoken Word Is The Very Spell That Binds The Psyche, For The Focus Of Or The Lack Of Focus Of Emotions True Meaning And Purpose Is The Crime Against All Life Indeed. Live Free And Pilot This Love Ship Successfully By No Longer Defining Self By The Ways And Means That Have Caused Us To Fear Our Own Power To Move Mountains, And Kept Us All Mustard Seeds When We Are Truly Far More Than You Can Believe. Feel Free, Yes, By All Means Feel Free.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
**Remember her, old friend?
She was...hideous,
You think she was ugly,
oh no, far from it.**
**She was the fairest,
Her lavishing sable hair,
Her viridian eyes,
Her glamorous smile,**
**Her soft-hued skin,
Her delicately slender body,
Her dazzling manners,
Her ever so warm demeanor,**
**Her moves,
Fluid, graceful, focused,
Capturing the essence of the music,
with her mesmerizing artistry.**
**She was indeed perfect,
Unique, as no one could be as elegant,
Charming, for no one, was as lovely.
Beguile...as no one was as rotten.**
**What she was, my old friend,
Was an empty vessel,
the soul of which had perished,
mortified by its actions.**
**For all she ever wanted was approval,
so what she did was put on a mask,
losing herself in the process,
becoming a ghost of her formal self.**
Jan 12, 2021
Jan 12, 2021 at 5:18 PM UTC
Let our words not yield hatred
But strength
From the places we've been
The tragedy we've seen
Let our actions not portray brokenness
But wisdom
From the troubles we've overcome
The paths we've taken
Let our demeanor be not of shame
But caution
From the hearts we've broken
The deeds we've regretted
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 9:49 PM UTC
I swear these days the kids think they can rap
With their #swag and their #yolo and snapback caps.
But I'd like to show them what RAP means in this country
I'll spell it out: RHYTHMIC AMERICAN POETRY.
Without your stanzas and word composition
you're just another rapper with an arrogant disposition.
Without a positive message and a humble demeanor
you've got negativity causing the children to get meaner.
You blast the bass and you spit your rhymes
you claim that the haters, "they be lying."
But you fail to see that at the heart of it all
you're more like Lil' Wayne than Biggie Smalls.
I'm truly sorry if you get offended by this rant,
but first thing's first;
Pull up your pants...
Aug 29, 2012
Aug 29, 2012 at 12:13 AM UTC
Lucid, abusive
Tongue in cheek divine
Stupid, elusive
Lost soul of mine
A snap of orchestral fingers to summon the suave illustrator
Mohawk punks and minions to smash the limp masturbator
Loveless, acquiesce
Arpeggio flutter ripples
Convalesce, Fancy dress
******* with perky *******
One or two drinks, make it three then five
Keeping the blood warm and love alive
Visceral, peripheral
Dark raven hair
Liberal, scriptural
I couldn’t even care.
I adored her all, her everything, her gleaming demeanor
The subtle wink of her eyes, the glow; even greener
Exotica, ex machina
Street amazon of desert glass sand
No drama, rural karma
Flesh sweating like the heat of Sudan
Dead singers like Cole and Morrison sing of paper moons and Crystal Ships
The mixed CD segues to U2, Pulp, and then a full disk of The Flaming Lips.
"Nightingale", minor scale
The saxophonist played under the street lamp outside
Folktale female
“Another drink?” she abides, two glasses and wine supplied
On her balcony we watched and listened, to the call of urban passion
The wordless music we adored, a testament to our mutual attraction.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 5:07 AM UTC
Ballerina stance leaner
porcelain poised demeanor
lined up for a chance at that old 500 gram repeater.
Yeah, a little firecracker,
a little fire eater.
Twiggy figure, ****** fire dome where her little wires teeter.
Excellent muse material
my ***** optics viewed ethereal
Beauty, and she knew it.
Arrogance.
Noted, duly.
Pittsburgh's resident fire ant, with a grace to match her face
And a whole crew of troglodytes racing to get a taste
So thanks Angela Chase;
I prefer the fantasy too.
And thanks to you my chickens won't be sleeping easy in their coup.
Loop Jabberwocky with Calligraphy
and dabbled in polygamy. purpose:
****** cyst bubbles to the surface.
Misinterpret the tongue touching and hand clutching,
you were baby girlie thumb-sucking
But thought more than twice about it when it came to dumb-fucking.
Pretty face: check
Depression: not yet
Appreciating phonemes, but still a nervous wreck
false carrot tops to bed, awkward with the ***** work.
Near waif redhead. Pittsburgh Boys. the city lurks
It's been a minute since the girl scouts got at me, I bought it.
Hop in the DeLorean tell Lauren that I'm off it.
Mar 16, 2010
Mar 16, 2010 at 2:47 PM UTC