"detoured" poems
Things are taken or walk away
I believe on day
Theyll find there way back
Sometimes things happen
before you're ready
If not maybe next time
Things happen when times are tough
Good enough but never enough
Love might be great career detoured
Or love failed money is great
Keep trucking don't lose hope
Everything you hoped for falls into place
Live on your own or live like will
And it shall go accordingly
Take time make time
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 11:46 PM UTC
some 4.5 billion years ago
the atoms that would coalesce
to ***** your evanescent features
detoured to a lonely chunk of
rock aimlessly adrift in the
Milky Way Galaxy
you stayed alive by pure instinct
fight or flight
you could not thrive
yet you survived nature's
attempts to crush you in
her fearsome jaws
bits of you walked with dinosaurs
bone fragments ground to dust and
reformed over eons of evolution until
you stood upright and found a
tongue to describe planet Earth
remnants of those dead languages
live on to this very day
they inhabit the ink stains i
leave upon this yellowed page
while folk tunes croon over
my shoulder and Dallas Green
breathes a city in multicolor
a map of the universe is etched
across your face and i cannot escape
the smirk that spread with mirth
nor erase the memory of eyes
like interstellar space staring
back at me
unblinking
for 4 minutes that felt
simultaneously like a lifetime
and the space between
2 fractions of a millisecond
you came from the Big Bang
when the cells that would form
our bodies were forged in the
cores of supernovas exploding
across the cosmos and we've
been on a collision course ever since
an unstoppable force and
an immovable object
for matter
can neither be created
nor destroyed
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 4:14 PM UTC
I am amazed
but I know not why (knowing me)
how hurt closes me off
sews me up
amputates my heart
from people I’ve loved.
It seems I cannot get by
the rage she vomited on me
what she called me
her shocking condemnations.
Rage cuts deep
wounds heal slow
if at all.
Then I find out how she felt hurt and betrayed
when I changed and detoured
because someone betrayed me.
But I am glad for those detours
where I discovered other worlds
and became more than I was.
I am amazed
but I know not why (knowing me)
how hurt can remake
and occasion my transformation,
how the bad can become the good
If I am patient enough
and work hard enough
to find
or make
cracks in that wall.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 10:13 AM UTC
Thinking about my social life or lack of one
I hide with work keeping busy my job gives me enough hours but not enough to make me full time
I jumped into the vicious circle I called dating
Ive met beautiful women but their insecurity makes me doubt myself
Ive lost so much respect I admire ppl but if they dont think highly of themselves why am I praising them
Everyone has a struggle take on the fear dont play the victim just know someone else has it worse
I respect what I do why should I give and settle for less. I was never 1st pick why should I settle I found away things arent always in my favorite. Ive done things others have never tried been place othets have never been
Its just mind blowing how others try to tell me or look down on me.
I bust my *** for mine while others are handed everything I work for. I'll never kiss *** or give up alwaus detoured or side tracked with bs that has nothing to do with me
I walk away because I might say something I might regret so I do mind my mouth I dk the situation or the whole story so why jump the gun.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 8:33 AM UTC
Counterpart opposite
and depleted by measures of time.
Time no longer counted upon
And its hands that measures the distance
All
one, two, three
of
them
Watches closely with intuition
as
the
minutes
go
bye.
Resolute is absent and the balance of His nature
Is unstable.
Both have grown feeble, lacking interest.
Burdened down by the weight of unevenness
Absalom has risen above the absence of the absolute
leading to a labyrinth.
.
Mystified by the maze,
He
Sits,
counting backwards,
rotating on an unhinged alignment,
expounding the injury of His inventiveness.
In another dimension of Himself, all one, two, three of them
Helios is staggered as Cupid, The God of Dark Love’s
Bow
is broken.
Now
His
equilibrium
is
faltered by the parallels between its thoughts.
Wanting love’s incarceration corrupted no more
He teeters on a stool in attempt to reverse suicide
yet the ensuing ideology of procrastination’s pride
has detoured His dilemma
However in their misfortune,
Love,
hoping to be reincarnate into another lifetime, dissolves in its delusion.
Time, in its barrenness discreetly measures the depletion and void,
and
the hands
all one, two, three of Him sits opposite
Being His
Counter in
Part
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 8:06 AM UTC
Where regrets ice over,
The disemboweled freedom rings:
Strolling down defunct bridges,
Unseeing by the dismembered dolls, and orphaned house shoes,
Sycophantic candy wrappers boomeranging,
Piano notes tumbling by on dusty wings.
The air current adds a gauzy, cheap thrill.
Detoured and lost again, casting off the surplus as you go;
The rattle and clatter of the dirt raising roads,
Trying to remember what to disown and
What to abandon in the wake of leaves,
And random shimmers from old butterfly trails.
The forgotten hopes pooled, where you once spent a day
In decisive despair, and decrepitude.
The vacant future come tumbling;
Not so much unexpected, as unwelcome
The loose ends dragging
Bird song remnants, cottonwood pollen,
Unspoken dearness, and unintended consequences.
The key glitters its way to the shallow bottom of the river
I watch it going down, with a half smile-
I stopped marking time ages ago, in my half-life.
Apr 20, 2010
Apr 20, 2010 at 1:03 PM UTC
Late August 8 o’clock is barefoot, and sunburned in the places that are always sunburned. Worn skin and deck slats hold onto leftover noon. Beneath, swirls the near unknown. Blue-black and edgeless, it’s awake but calmer as the day savors a slow-motion finish. Out of respect for the sunset, those at rudder or wheel embrace a lakewide no wake zone. Our blooms of whistle and sigh fill the dusk hour.
Someone somewhere is lighting a fire. It can be felt in the shoulder blades, when breathing slows. A ripe sense of abundance carries in the peach pink light—a promise that the season won’t fade, that deck children never age, and their waters never freeze. The birch chorus agrees, and this false truth soothes tired limbs that know better, but choose to accept the judgement of the night arriving. Because tender are the day’s dying breaths, and a special care is taken here for every move.
Peeling away layers, hair stands high on the skin with the pines on the hillsides. Bundle your things under the bench, or the winds may take them. There is a silence here with something to say. Toes hug wood’s edge and the muckgrasses nod in tune to a song that is there but not wholly heard. It’s important to watch first; it’s important that you try once again to read the neon pattern in the waves. A familiar laugh through cabin window will interrupt this.
The ladder is better for the evening swim. Submergence is best performed slowly then all at once, with careful attention paid to the detoured bloodflow of sunburned skin. Reflections of the promise unravel as they scatter into sky. Dip your darkness into the horizon and feel the day’s heat collapse inward, easing the blushes of your superficial pain. Let the other foot leave the trust of algaed metal, as the body’s pieces spread suspended. A group of fiery orbs blink aloft in an endless cold.
Our stars are connected only by stories, and here—where the sky is reflected in water—the hair on your hillsides can nod along to the half-heard tune of eternity. This is the end of the dock.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
I
Having decided to return home after seeing my friends
Victorious in battle
I launched Lucifer away from the gate.
The weather permitted my swift travel
And I was off!
Galloping across the tarmac.
II
The opening naughts were easy
I glided along like a swift, if unruly dragon
I knew something would be wrong: the weather was still nice
And, if you know Éire you know you're in trouble
I met fellow travelers who seemed to agree with me.
They brought their dogs in: wise move.
My muscles began to tire; but then again
They were always weak (pathetic ********
Hills grew steep and Lucifer rebelled *******
I found myself swallowed by mud; drowning, drowning in muck.
The journey goes on.
Continuing on my voyage, I saw several other travelers.
(They owned neither dogs nor Lucifer)
We detoured, talked and I gave my muscles rest
An labhríonn tú Gaeilge I asked.
They affirmed; I procrastinated.
The journey still went on.
I finished that stretch within a short space of time
I was tired and Lucifer was grumbling.
Went through the gate
Unto the estate!
III
The opening hills were grueling
Long unending, unforgiving mounds
My hands ached.
I reached the top of the hill,
Rocketing down the gravel,
The wheels compounding the stones
I was doing it! I was doing it!
I got stuck in the grass.
Oi Vey
I eventually got myself free
And there were only a few more hills
To wage war with.
II turned the corner after the last
And saw the ramp.
In my head, a variant of Chariots of Fire thundered in my brain.
(Greek composers are the best to give one inspiration)
I reached the ramp
Turned the key
And was home!
VICTORY!
VICTORY!
VICTORY!
P.S. The journey took me 10minutes.
CP's a *****
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 3:16 PM UTC
You fight to be on the other side and find there's not much going on regardless of where you stand
I've always seen ppl unique and interesting even though there's not much to them when you hang around
I'd rather find my own way stand my own ground
Others test you but don't even test themselves
They ask you to be a certain way and they can't even live up to that hype
I've been on my levels the only level that matters is the one that makes me happy and rewarding most off all beneficial
It's not what I want or doesn't offer what I'm looking for so why bother
Too many times I'm detoured thinking I mean well but it's not good in my direction
Learning to say and decide on my own doing everything that makes sense and has a meaningful with logical reasoning
Not trying to be the hero or get applauded for stuff that should be doing or needs to be done
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 10:48 PM UTC
As the snowflakes touch her tear glazed face
Their grip gets tighter as they hit the brakes
On the life they found when they quit running in place,
Or walking, in his case....
The way you could feel it in the way that they moved
Or hear it in their soft sung blues
Or taste it in the drinks they brewed
While seeing it in their efflorescent views
And all at once they were walking in pace,
She kept his pattern without want or haste
But evanescent it was when it came to change
They were thrown a curve ball in a dangerous game
Suddenly their lives encumbered so much more,
They began seeing the light inside each open door,
And the incipient love that they created in war,
Took a new form that seemed to effortlessly soar
100,000 miles wouldn't keep them apart
They would fight to the death for this serendipitous art
No matter where she was it was never too far,
Without saying a word, he spoke straight to her heart
Road blocks were detoured and hurdles were jumped,
We maintained a hold on our love and refused to get stuck,
Devote time to each other,
And never give up
If you haven't found what you're looking for,
Close your eyes, and look down at the floor
Spin in a circle, five or six times,
Let yourself get lost in your altered mind
Remember the best things,
Aren't things that you find...
They find you,
At an undeclared time
Quit putting your effort
Into finding "The One"
And allow yourself
To have some fun...
I understand your need to run,
But I've found walking brought out the sun
And my empty hand was filled it seemed
The second I allowed myself to breathe
All you have to do,
is simply believe
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 12:11 PM UTC
This is the Sunday Morning Listen, a radio show in my head.
We wake up to Quando, Quando, Quando and
Know that Humperdinck's question's been answered.
Not of old songs but old times, this is reminding me of old,
Like jeepneys en route to heaven, but the passenger detoured.
This is the Sunday Morning Listen,your sound is still in my head.
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 10:07 PM UTC
He says
I believe
I create
though phrases elude
just inhale this moment's aroma so fleeting
now detoured to no known path
dance then in freefall
the grounding unseen
sounding wordless exhale
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 11:00 PM UTC
when in poetry she is referred to as mother she uses it to show others her fatalism has regressed. on par with such beliefs as voice recognition and voice recognition technology. she knows a dream is a good reminder of how someone looked. when detoured from the road they’re filming on she manually rolls up the driver’s side window to say curse words. a tire rolls by. then a second tire called ahead by a bus on fire. adventures in adoption. her diary keeps a brother.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 1:01 PM UTC
I'm ashamed to believe
I thought you had answers to questions I had to ask
But learning of you, I've questioned you more
And now I’m wondering why
What do I do?
Can I pay the price when you say it’s due?
The tricks of the trade that I thought I knew
You've seen them all because they were no use
But despite all the conclusions that I've come up to
You've defied every one and there's only one left
That I can accept
I’m ashamed
This firm assumption I can always defend
Till the end
I'm ashamed
For what I've taken from you to use
Because I’d take again and again
I'm afraid to see you now
Avoiding every glance to make it safe somehow
Detoured and yet again, I’m cornered
Because you're at my every turn
And I’m wondering how
How did you come true?
For what have you've gotten this close to me to do?
And have you gotten what you needed to?
Now this push's come to shove, still I lean on you
There's nothing else that I've come to trust
But you've never lie to me, yet I knew
That you’ll betray my instincts again
I'm afraid
This constant fear that I've gained from you
You're gone, but even then
I’m afraid
You'll come to collect when my price is due
And I'm running again and again
I know there’s no use; I would have never won
You’re far too kind to chase me every time I run
The days never end
But now I’m giving myself back to you
To end this eternity
Despite all you could've done to collect me
I'm ashamed I'm afraid
I'm afraid I'm ashamed
The mongrels had come to pick me apart
But then I had learned of the darkness at heart
I'm ashamed
The snow of that day where you've carried my will
The dead are still scattered and the earth barren still
I'm afraid
You've come to collect, yet I still run away
I thought I could live out the last of my days
I'm ashamed
Here I surrender and my heart is my key
My life's torn asunder, in hell we will meet
I’m afraid
© 2014
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:44 AM UTC
Will you will or will you won’t
Will you do well when you don’t
Will you look right up and see
The mighty presence that is Me
Swing your saber through the wilderness
Taking hearts in stride
Will your will still carry you
Through the jungle of your pride
Will you will this road you’re on
Detoured from why I died
Will you will away eternity
Aim for Hell on a stellar ride
Will you nullify the light I give
Let the shadows dim this place
Every time I call your name
Will you turn from my face
You can set your will against me
But my love won’t be erased
Do what you will to will it still
You’re forever my child of grace
I’m on your side as you run this race
It is my will to give you grace
No Hell no earthly place
Separates you from this grace
TL Boehm
January 2015
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 11:21 AM UTC
Dissected lip served in grained and pictured fixtures cracked
Spider webbed and spider trapped
Talking in forgots named of slayed littler things, as strewn about in the worms in hand
Slight of seethe in bulls horned speak
In Blackened eyes and turns of cheeks
In seek if speak of need
Weaker keyed of broken nobs in a doorless windows dream
Sing in singing
Sang to other trees
Trees of broken branches
Rootless mud of rockied roads, detoured to a cliff slide view
Face the rain with open eyes and not blink
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 8:20 PM UTC
Spining and swirling
I can't find my feet
Lost in a mind
detoured by defeat
I can't believe you beat me
I can't believe you won
For you the game is over
For me it's just begun
You walk away grinning
thinking your on top
but, this is where you're mistaken
I 'm not so easy forsaken
I will make a come back
just you wait and see
with a whirlpool of emotions
I'll shall **** you down
and giggle sheepishly as you slowly drown
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 3:55 PM UTC
the king
gave you
this puzzle
called life
and you, jester,
rose to the occasion.
instead of figuring everything out,
you played around
— which meant
all rules you bent,
all instructions swayed,
all directions detoured,
everything but the puzzle was solved.
but irregardless,
the king was delighted
in your efforts
to make the court laugh
and in the end,
he gave you the key
and you threw it away
with glee.
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 6:52 AM UTC
where is the magic she said?
as we stood looking into a vast garden
we sat on shaded rocks
I offered to take her hand and slowly poured the fountain water through her cupped hands
This is the magic your hands are cupped and you want to hold the water
though it coats your hands most completely you cannot hold it
you can call it you can dance in it you can shower your dear hearts in it
use it yes, and abuse it
but it will never be held detoured pooled and dammed
never held
it will sweep around you engulf and drowned you
Protect and guide you but
it will not be held
soft as rain cold as snow wild as fire
as sure and natural as your mothers heartbeat
This is magic
Wear it throw it secret it deny it
it will creep through your fingers and rain down your face
it will fall gently into your arms and drop softly into the garden
and look even as you held it
it blessed your hands to your work and has gone
This is magic
This is what I know
This is what I feel
This is magic
Solita - 2007
Jan 2, 2010
Jan 2, 2010 at 11:52 AM UTC
Met a girl in Memphis,
home to Mississippi,
4am to Tunica or Tupelo,
I got lost in the mix of it.
She stole my breath that morning, knocked the wind out of me,
lost the lights of the discotheque,
we were pollinating free.
Psilocybin chocolates and silk ******* stars as far as eyes could see,
city lights replaced by fireflies,
the Delta's soul soothes a detoured man's decree.
Scent of perfume or poison,
could have been the peonies,
moon shined on domestic horses,
staring back cautiously.
Breeze sang static harmonies through the telephone wires,
And we whispered our hearts desires.
If you asked us,
about the world back then,
We'd have a laugh for an answer for you my friend.
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 9:45 PM UTC
And there I was.
Another American lost on the road.
The traffic slowed to the bare minimum.
Slim to none at the barricade of an orange and black detour sign.
Upon turning I lost signal to my phone.
The social climb of bars dropping to a small X.
It's crazy how something so convenient could be detoured so easily.
The distractions that occur along the way.
A straight path with a few twists and turns.
Without the beam of flashing lights and signs.
I wouldn't have found a new way home.
Unless I knew someone that stayed down this street I would never have turned.
A more scenic, peace devoted route without the distractions of answering the phone or adjusting the radio.
The temporary fix of building home else where, in someone elses arms.
The corridor of ears.
Relying on the siding of someone's voice to house what is thought to roof all of me.
Switching lanes, finding the right material
Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 3:19 PM UTC
I will wait
I will bear
I will stay
I will struggle
For a long time
Till
I find you
Disguised
Detoured
Distanced
From me
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
He learned to change with the time because if he didn't he would be left in the past. He moved forward stopped being detoured by fake friends. Distracted by failed relationships, time had changed from young adult to being a responsible adult. When he was young he would lust because they never took him serious. He kept pursuing his goals they told him no and he couldn't do it. He kept doing his thing to prove them wrong and silenced them. He spoke the truth it got him nothing but hate he broke through all the lies. He wanted to be happy be normal even though he was different.
He got judged by people who had ridiculous standards they couldn't live up to. He never believed or gave into the eye. He was the one talked about not the one talking. He was tired of being the scapegoat when he did it they knocked him for it. He seen them struggle the front came crashing down but he was the better person and never judged them for their flaws.
Nov 4, 2017
Nov 4, 2017 at 5:56 PM UTC
Your words touch me today in a very moving way.
Your words make me fly, I am close to crying.
You give me life.
When I hear you talk about your girlfriend, and about the ways of love
You make better poetry than I will ever do.
You, in fact, sound like an enlightened version of me.
Is it gone? Just wait and see...do not be detoured
by the demons within - trust me, they exist
Because we are not poets, we are just photographers.
With words, catching glimpses of the divine world
And that old Humbert told me today, that you need to live
to see how it is; of course you can't even try
if you live by wire
And I was also close to tears; so much beauty in this.
And that South African brother speaks to my heart,
and he doesn't even try! He is always there, with a helping hand.
And you whisper the life: without you I am lost
My everything, your world.
Who needs a Bible, or oracles, that stuff
when you have friends like I
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 4:46 PM UTC
"X marks the spot to your treasure,
The treasure that holds your lost pride.
X marks the spot to your pleasure,
go have a look inside."
So I followed the careful instructions,
took one step left then two right,
I was detoured by flower's seductions,
then went back to the map's X growing bright.
At first I felt confusion,
Once I reached this so called prize.
This must be some sort of delusion,
Made by a child to fantasize.
But I looked at the map a bit closer.
The X was no location.
It was the map to my closure,
The way back to my past damnation.
"This is not my pride," I said,
Feeling as though the map lied.
Old pains flooded all through my head.
Because facing my past felt like suicide.
I saw your face, and I whimpered.
How I longed to hear you voice again.
My arms grew numb and limper,
Nostalgia multiplied by ten.
But then I stepped back and took in a breath.
I thought of the troubles that had passed.
Once I'd thought I'd love you until death,
Yet I knew that wouldn't last.
Because while you were once my love,
you were also my strife.
"I fly alone now, turtle dove,
I'll live a fruitful life."
I examined the map and I pondered.
these words were no mistake.
In fact they've made my memories fonder,
Shaped a jagged edge into a clean break.
I do not miss you any longer,
My heart no longer cold.
So if you're ever missing me, just look yonder,
To the map that helped me be bold.
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 7:32 PM UTC