"deterring" poems
She was always
Simply
A
Lock
Away; all they needed was the
Key.
Those who found it
Lost it soon enough too.
But those who fashioned it,
themselves
Without deterring from the task
Without trying to replicate a lost key
With nothing but a
egami euqinu
In their minds
Of what the lock looked like
And what the key should look like
Only those few,
Few, very few
Wizards
who toiled to work their magic
Succeeded.
And they never lost their key
They necklaced it around their heart
A symbol that was now etched into
their existence
Entangled in the life of the veins
That this heart so solely depended on
Becoming one with them
Those were the lucky ones
The others, the ones she wished mattered
Were still only searching
Searching
Meandering
Probing
Ferreting
Still only looking for
A key that had once been used
And whose lock was now
Rust rusting rusted
With time.
Still searching
But never creating, of course
Always only searching
Until they found it
And then lost it again.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 2:48 AM UTC
Even with a thousand heads and souls around me,
The thought of loneliness always resided with me
I did not intend to fit in everyone's sizes,
Nor was I proud of the bottle that shook with rage, ready to spill
My life disintegrates within a flash of a solution
I present myself and my energy to a dull audience
But the same smiles just stare speechless, gawking at me
I paraded willfully, expressing myself through art that was repulsive to many
Yet, there were a few eyes that presented a beacon, despite my addictions crumbling the floor beneath me
I reached out and touched the flames that singed my hair
Till I landed on flowers
They were not the gorgeous type,
But they were just like me:
Odd, beautiful, deterring, and tiresome.
One of them shared a joke about death,
It forced a laugh out of me, till I realized today was April Fools' Day
A skull-shaped bud cries in front of me, similar to that of a child
I take in the smell of the hole I've fallen in, though the fall was cushioned by giant red flowers
As pretty as they are, their smell is who I am
I look above and see a crucifix in the sky
Then the darkness falls in, and I accept the undeniable truth by closing my eyes.
May 12, 2022
May 12, 2022 at 3:53 AM UTC
right now
sacrifice is fueling opportunity
an opportunity to breathe
with an uninterrupted purpose
the corruption of our native soul
stop nourishing it
by constructing whiteness
sacrificing ethnicity
for the temporal indulgence
adrenaline *****
torturing
intensity of dissociation
hallucinating whiteness
the worst drug ever manufactured
forced upon our children
intricate delicate
vulnerable violence
tripping
stumbling
dissociating from an eternity
of survival of the most cooperative
deterring
forgetting
intoxicating
for a moment
momentum of ******
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 5:37 PM UTC
A cold breeze, chilling only the skin,
deterring nothing deeper,
nothing sacred, or secret, or obscure.
Everything within her was still and calm,
undisturbed by the inhospitable outside,
the snow and empty town.
Because she knew that soon
spring would be coming,
bringing life to this town,
restoring her happy little place.
Soon, she would call it home again.
The empty trees.
In one of them, she saw two blossoms.
Both of them thriving,
two pinks lights in a world that was otherwise
white and grey.
Confirmation.
Her lips curled upward.
A serene and content smile
on her glowing face.
She walked on
thinking of the coming spring
and the child that would arrive afterward.
She knew that soon
happiness and vitality would be restored
to this barren little town.
Jan 1, 2011
Jan 1, 2011 at 11:46 AM UTC
Her eyes are the stained glass broken from confession.
Her withered hair buried beneath dirt gravel.
Her forbidden mind fosters slobs of crazy.
Her mind is a battlefield of Trojan takeover.
Her bare feet remember sacred ground of tainted memories.
Her ears embrace the screech of still weather.
Her grapefruit mouth juiced with venom is tasteless.
her sharp egg shelled fingertips woven from braids of straw.
Her body is the Earthquake ruptured by the vibrations of collision.
Her thoughts trespass gated abandonment
Her firework pen exploding with gunpowder secrets.
Her gunpowder secrets deterring the sanity.
Her cracked lips cobweb from silenced words.
Her puppet stringed smile puts on a show to the audienced world.
Her soul has been toyed with by the cynical Fates.
Her echo without direction is a heartbroken drum line.
Her armor has been dowsed with sharp, penetrating words.
Her skin has painted stories interior to her porcelain frame.
Her soulless story can be dry swallowed by rocks.
Her tears bleed of whispered screams.
Aug 9, 2012
Aug 9, 2012 at 2:02 PM UTC
I sit here contemplating altruism.
I wonder why I get frustrated when there is no reciprocation.
Teach a man to fish, he will steal all your business.
Give a beggar coins, he can only buy a pint of Guinness.
I'm ******* tired of this **** Somebody is living their dreams by taking mine away. I'd rather be beaten and hit than give up one more day.
Like trying to play guitar for others, just to be told "You ****
I try to ignore the deterring phrase, "You'll never make a buck".
Teach a child love and tolerance, he will be abused and stepped on.
Give a loser a second chance, he will steal from you when you're gone.
Altruism doesn't exist. It's in my nature to share this exhibit.
Too bad it hurts me, feels like my belief is somehow complicit.
I hope I can see what I should give, and what I should prohibit.
Judge my charity, my gifts, my intentions, these words from my lips.
You call me an altruistic ******* But you're just a selfish piece of ****
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
There's a girl with walls around her
Walls that were built to protect her from the evils of the world
Walls with masks hanging
Each showing a different face
But
I see her behind her walls
The more she's hurt
The thicker the walls become
Effectively deterring anyone from getting close
Yet trapping her inside
But
I see her behind her walls
The facades she brings forth
Are carefully calculated
To minimise any foul play
So that she doesn't have to have her heart
And soul scarred and broken again
But
I see her behind her walls
She runs behind her walls
Flinging sarcasm, insults and indifference
Whenever someone tries to get close
As she's learned time and again
That every time she brings down her walls and allow someone into her heart with the promise that she doesn't need her walls anymore
They tear her defenses down from the inside
Leaving her to rebuild all by herself
But
I see her behind her walls
I come knocking on her walls
Calling for her to let me in
Telling her that
I see her behind her walls
And that I love her
And that I'm not asking her to bring down her walls
But to build our own walls
Just us
Can you see us behind our walls?
You're not welcome
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 4:35 PM UTC
We took a bus to Wilmington
And skipped a dream or two
In order to be cognizant—
When the “Are we there yet’s”
Rebounded void of “yet.”
We parked the bus adjacent to
The paint-peeling facade
Of lonely temple Wilmington—
Threatening no demon of the sky
With a keenly polished death spike.
It had no spendthrift window of
Christ Jesus with the sick
And poor, neglected derelicts—
Who glow with jubilee and gold chloride
For His altruistic charities.
Across its door was fastened tight
A rusted iron chain
Which barred the shallow, blinkered souls—
Who loitered at the barrier’s feet
Waiting on God to warrant entry.
But we who were of cogent view
Detached deterring catch
And entered with our chins *****
A light-bulb-vacant sanctuary
Where taciturn shadows took a seat in every pew.
And down a velvet aisle stood
A lonely, weeping priest
Inhaling in unblemished palms—
That not a single pious doubter
Would dare inspect.
“Welcome to my church,” he said
With breathless, choking sobs,
“I am the congregation here—
The pastor, choir, usher, and Sunday school teacher
Of Wilmington Church of Reason.”
Inquired we what hidden woe
Enlaced with torment cast
Those salt discharged convulsions—
Quaking the sanctity of exultation
In the House of Apollo.
And with concise, unleavened words
He justified his tears
And whispered to our weary troop—,
“Alone, alone am I,
Isolated within this box of omitted truth.
“O, give me soothing slumber deep
And strip these sentient eyes
From ghastly sheaths of consciousness—
Repair this mended paradigm,
Or tell me that I am mistaken.
“Imaginary friends and foes
Make wretched hearts a wreath
Of roses red and mistletoe—
And bird of paradise to keep
Hope alive, alive and awake and well, hope alive…”
So each of us, a brimming cup
Of empathy, remained
To keep old pastor Wilmington—
Old usher, choir, teacher, congregation Wilmington
Alive and awake and well.
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 6:09 AM UTC
Rustic, fresh, sweet, strong, light, deterring, sweet, strong
pheromones.
Yellow lamp, shining bright, reveals red bumps.
Ceramic seat accommodates the focal point for personal evaluation.
Girl competes with guy.
Six-inch, dark- pink light-pink like petals by the bed stand.
Mason jar and silhouette car and sticky leather seats.
Ears protrude, far out, but he hears less than she.
Automatic diamond needle; 20th century piece.
Thick, rich black hair parted down the middle
Fiddle with 'er keys.
Minty menthol gags
inspire thievery from neon ****
Divorce rate ascends,
over mountains of cologne.
But the crystal stick
never does the trick.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 11:36 AM UTC
desert degraded and diminished
your soil
lacking and wanting
of minerals
a bloom graces
your
inhospitable landscape
standing tall
and upright
marvels found
in your delicate might
the seed that held you
had inborn perseverance
harshness not deterring
the flowering
will of your bloom
struggle is your exhibit
in the sky minimal rain forms
falling upon you
it caresses your delicate bloom
enfolding your petals
exuding life upon you
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 8:07 PM UTC
a friend of mine begs me to have a beginning. I rub my hands together and lose track of which cleans which. my mother steps back and forth over a bucket. my father inspects the chalk outline of my brother’s progress. my body wants to be my brother’s body and so plagiarizes the latest convulsion. it happens to be violent. I love my sister for trying to pinpoint the moment her shadow appeared and for deterring my stillness. my brother is a riot. his creation story gives birth only once with dignity. he mangles a paper clip and pulls a praying child by the hair and is separated from his life. the paper clip becomes a bit small enough to be used on a snake. I have a cut that needs some attention. the void is a man. the beginning is money.
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC
Oh I wish I could dream
neath a nightscape disaster
frowning entanglements
formed in these eyes
Fractured endeavors
from here till tomorrow
born of this heart
atop stagnant steam skies
Dripping of sense
never once fond of finding
answers in deep
as the quicksand holds on
Sinking this man
into unknown decisions
raking his soul
crossed the oncoming dawn
Painting a picture
in oils on canvas
clear as a bell
ringing quick to it’s toll
Clutching this throat
deterring all breathing
dropping the fear
ever hard on his soul
Grabbing a thread
and a rusty old needle
stitching this mouth
so to no longer speak
Draining that blood
pulled from fingertip prickings
crimson expense
slowly rendering weak
Watching the fall
from some higher up places
chuckling loud
at the sound of his scream
Checking a pulse
in an emptiness feeling
waving goodbye
Oh I wish I could dream
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
We’re all so beautiful
Smiling as though nothing were to interrupt
Because nothing is supposed to
But it is this life that we live
So arduous, so rigid
That drives us so
Deterring us from that which we deem natural and whole
If it weren’t for this view that has been created
We wouldn’t have left the point
From which all other points have been made
All we ever wanted was to say hello
To acknowledge even the most remote
Accepting all that comes forth
Asking for nothing other than to breathe
And it is this breath that has made it so hard
For it wishes to be breathed once more
Having been welcomed by the herd past shunned
Begging for nothing other than
A chance to have begun
Feb 11, 2012
Feb 11, 2012 at 10:39 PM UTC
words through time-eyes,
and life thought left long
with mind for days while
this one sat deterring soul
from body in a foot-lost
night. sun's end, son's end,
and the day's typewriter
just hours from death of man.
awaiting knowledge of grou-
nded truth. ground vessel of
a soylent variety, without
thoughts on past word-loss.
summer existence, like young
girl's expectations of world's
blood left in trashcan. place the
heart, forced sweating to free self
of longer lost sleep. feel right, sleep
longer during the long dark. true
waiting and lack ******* reason
when this cat has gone, been got,
has lost a white-year of quiet memories.
times destroyed, knew to rise hip. knew
to rise onward with cigarette lit of matched
flesh. sense the repetition, remember
away the flesh. blue smoke of fire in the
long dark, in the coming white-year.
sense the memory, ending waste but
still losing knowledge. gaining chaos of
thirteen out, of this one's will to be six out.
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 8:09 AM UTC
I don't know how one compliment
On my haircut could possibly
Ignite an entire firework show
Under my skin,
But that's just what you did.
I don't know why
All it took was your silhouette
As I sat silently in the back
Entirely deterring from Larry's sermon,
But it simply did.
I can't comprehend
How your complete dorkiness
Could decisively alter
My future in matter of a minutes,
And yet it did.
Though not even a glimmer
Of you and me is a possibility
A girl can and will
Dream within the pages of poetry
Of a kiss that lingers with locked fingertips
Of watery eyes spilling out from the hushed passion
Stirred by the inconspicuous beauty you so clearly see
Within every confine of me.
Let my fantasies unfurl in a world
Where hope runs rampage
And love forever thrives.
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 4:08 PM UTC
I don’t need things
sanitary, I just need them
clean.
I need them blank
and malleable and empty—
bare
and impenetrable and deterring:
the cold walls of a cloroxed surface
the wide base of a lysoled space.
Spattered crumbs across a kitchen counter can be
brushed off. Calcified toothpaste around the bathroom sink can be
scrubbed away. Spilled decisions and the inability to make them—
a cocktail of Hennessy and incidental encounters— can be.
Can be
ignored, and covered up, and forgotten.
Can be
pushed aside and shoved away and misremembered.
Can be
obscured and omitted and lied about
—sanitary, but never clean.
I cannot wash my hands of his sweat.
I cannot gargle away his taste.
I cannot comb out his fingernails.
I may be sanitary, but I will never feel clean.
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 1:31 PM UTC
I've been left out and cast aside
My shadow is all that's by my side
I'm waiting for my turn
To embrace
what is
deserved
to all
So much luggage I carry from the past
I can't ask for help cause' nothing lasts
Let downs are always expected
The world has spoken,
I'm rejected
Promising to let you down is the only way I won't let you down
I'm beneath
the
soil
in the
ground!
God ****
No one can come in
I'm not ready to go somewhere I've never been
That's why I won't pull anyone in
What I keep inside is deterring
I'll remain a stone unturned
Demanding what I'll never earn
Because I'm a peice work
A job that probably won't get done.
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC
I shall never know,
if you faked those blackouts.
The ones that made you crumple
on the stairs. Or else out in the cold
of Andy's rusted shed. Once I caught
you naked, you know,
during one of your blackouts.
I shall never know,
if you faked those blackouts.
I wouldn't have blamed you,
a shed-full of
wasted tanks and canisters;
lighter fluid, degreaser, air freshener,
foot spray – they spoilt the flooring,
and they spoilt our thoughts.
Never once deterring
from the self-manifest dream of escape,
of truth and eventual decay;
we took to bare arms
to satisfy
our escape from oxygen.
And, in open view,
you laid out naked with her.
You more studied her,
than ****** her,
you more observed ***
than became it.
I wanted her
as much as I wanted to be you.
So, I traced my dreams to your nothings,
upon your heralded wisdom,
but never could I untangle
from some impossible condition.
No, I never could untangle
the means from the ends,
and never could I darken
at will,
my old blackout friend.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC
The Partner, who you can confide in when times are unkind
someone you can depend on as the view becomes blind
with the heart of Hercules, until you are absolutely mine
I will be the man you need me to be towing the line
I will be the man you need me to be for all times
The Fever, which defends the honor you cherish and reveal
as the protector that gives life without compromises or deals
fulfilling the innermost wants, caring with selfless zeal
I will be the man you need me to be taking on any woe
I will be the man you need me to be deterring all foes
The Lover, who you can feel deep within the bones
like the ribs of Adam creating the partner with tones
stimulating moisture thru desires, making you moan
I will be the man you need me to be like a fine knitted glove
I will be the man you need me to be as a cure for all past loves.
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 4:57 PM UTC
One touch.
Light as a feather.
Yet, a grip as powerful as steel.
The hands around my neck.
The thoughts that never leave my head.
How can the feeling,
of just a simple thought,
be so desiring, yet so deterring.
It´s something I want,
That I can never have.
Like the glimpse of sun rays in the darkest winter day.
That warm feeling, that so rarely occurs.
I search, but I never find.
Because good is gone.
Lost, like my favorite pair of lingerie.
Whatever about that, that made me feel so good about myself,
even though I knew,
it never mattered.
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 7:54 AM UTC
Mama said i would be okay
my friends said it's only heart break
daddy told me not to cry
but tell me why it hurts inside
why when i see that he's happy
happy without me in his life
i feel a shattering inside my chest
and i can't smile even if i try my best
Mama said thats what happens when you trust boys
my friends say he was just a toy
daddy told me not to cry
but it still hurts inside
So i tried to move on
i tried my best to smile
then i was numb after a while
my grades started slipping
my sleeping was more frequent
i turned to something to help me vent
it wasn't very practical
actually..not healthy at all
but i drew with silver on a pale canvas and the ink was red
soon, i couldn't eat, starvation was a theme
maybe if i was skinnier...he'd want me
but mama said i can't stop living
my friends said to please be okay
daddy stopped worrying...soon he went away
therapists tried so hard to get me to talk
drawing was hard with artist blocks
writing became boring, i no longer loved it
reading reminded me of something i missed
now im under 105
and my health is deterring
scars line up my legs and arms
somehow...i still believe it's my fault
that someone named james would take my spot
now mama is just scared
my friends they all worry
mama begs me to try
and friends always nag
caring is hard...when the first heartbreak you've had
is someone you trusted with everything
just leaves as if you was nothing
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 9:13 AM UTC
Whenever I allow myself to think of love, my mind runs
To the chambers where secret memories are stored,
In sealed chests, on high unreachable shelves, deterring me
From opening, dreaded Pandora boxes, stripped of hope.
Yet sometimes the endeavour to reminisce overwhelming
Feelings I struggle to repress, commands me to climb the stairs,
Unclose the safes of the unspoken, as I forbid tears
From pouring, out of clouded eyes, still loving.
You are there, with your roguish smile, chivalric deportment,
Statuesque poise, Michelangelo’s David, I compared, giddily
Gazing at your tragic features as if you were, the one
And only whom I could ever love, desire, crave, forgive.
Suddenly though not unexpectedly, intrudes the scolding guardian
Of remembrances, treating me as an impostor in my own mind,
A thief of frames concealed, yelling at me as you used to, reminding me
Of reality, your swinging lunatic humours, mercilessly lashing me with words.
Scars time will never heal, they lie when they say it will,
It has no power over what we were, nor can it erase even the slightest
Faintest flare of what we felt. Whenever I allow myself to think of love,
I still think of you, but that’s the maximum I consent to do.
Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 4:46 AM UTC