"difficulty" poems
a companion piece to
miniskirts & high heels vs. poetry & yoga^
<•>
a couple of buds at a local dive bar, drinking Buds,
talking loud about technology
and other manly man stuff
attract attention for our conversation isn't bout sports,
get approached by long legs in high heels and a miniskirt,
with the best come on line ever
any woman invented,
"you guys know about computers, huh?"
later after reading twenty or so of her poems,
and learning the degree of difficulty of the
downward facing dog pose
(adho mukha svanasana)
she said:
tell me again how I
*clear my cache,
change my font,
add more memory for new memories,
stop auto correct from making wont into want,
so I can happy write*
"wont thy thoughts to my heart thereof"
so I obliged and then
the geek in meek wrote
his first poem
after first clearing the catch
in his throat
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 12:35 PM UTC
From one thousand mountains the hawks flights are gone
Soaring freely & thinking clearly through the clouds in the sky
Not looking back persevering to fulfill the dreams
The dreams aren't solely an illusion in the mind
But a preview of future times
For the reality in the hawks mind is dreams of happiness
Clashing between difficulty & a paradox of what is seen & what is not seen
What is believed has 20/20 vision
A clear sight with no eyeballs
But a driven mind with great visual
Anticipating the future of success
Feeling blessed and alleviating stress
Persevering and passing all the tests
What lies is the wind which is the past
Securing things of desire at last
Achievement is a good friend
Resulting in a fulfilled end. . .
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
For Al, who left us
With each passing poem,
The degree of difficulty of diving ever higher,
Bar incrementally niched, inched, raised,
Domain, the association of words, ever lesser,
Repetition verboten, crime against pride.
Al,
You ask me when the words come:
With each passing year,
In the wee hours of
Ever diminishing time snatches,
The hours between midnight and rising,
Shrinkage, once six, now four hours,
Meant for body restoration,
Transpositional for poetic creation,
Only one body notes the new mark,
The digital, numerical clock of
Trillion hour sleep deficit, most taxing.
Al, you ask me from where do the words come:
Each of the five senses compete,
Pick me, Pick me, they shout,
The eyes see the tall grasses
Framing the ferry's to and fro life.
Waving bye bye to the
End of day harbor activities,
Putting your babies to sleep.
The ears hear the boat horns
Deep voiced, demanding pay attention,
I am now docking, I am important,
The sound lingers, long after
They are no longer important.
The tongue tastes the cooling
Italian prosecco merging victoriously
With its ally, the modestly warming rays
Of a September setting sun,
finally declaring, without stuttering,
Peace on Earth.
The odoriferous bay breezes,
A new for that second only smell,
But yet, very old bartender's recipe,
Salt, cooking oil, barbecue sauce, gasoline
And the winning new ingredient, freshly minted,
Stacked in ascending circumference order, onion rings.
These four senses all recombinant,
On the cheek, on the tongue,
Wafting, tickling, blasting, visioning
Merging into a single touch
That my pointer finger, by force majeure,
Declares, here,
poem aborning!
Contract with this moment,
now satisfied!
Al, what you did not ask was this:
With each passing poem,
I am lessened within, expurgated,
In a sense part of me, expunged,
Part of me, passing too,
Every poems birth diminishes me.
_________________________________
(this poem more than most,
for its birth celebrates
my loss, your loss,
which cannot be exonerated 8/7/18)
_________________________________
written at 4:38 AM
September 8th, 2012
Greenport Harbor, Long Island
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 7:07 AM UTC
I am a nerd
Who finds pleasure in books of fiction
Of life in fiction
Of pain from fiction
A fragment of my being
I am nothing without a book
I am a nerd
Who finds pleasure in comic books
Whose mind comes alive in their pages
Of heroes and their sidekicks
Of villains and their lovely vile
I am nothing without a book
I am a nerd
Who finds pleasure in rock as a religion
It's transitions and it's leads
Metal as a denomination
So electric; I come
Alive over and again
I am nothing without my music
I am a nerd
Who finds pleasure in Mangas
Their Naive heroes and their half clad villains
Their pervasions and their strengths
Their one-on-one battles and defeats
Their awesome storytelling and the twists
I am nothing without my Manga
I am a nerd
Who finds pleasure in video games
The difficulty levels and their walkthroughs
The vibrations and the boss fights
The sleepless nights and the highs
The shouts of victory and the barrage of curses
I am nothing without my Video games
I am a nerd
Who finds pleasure in surfing
The endless chasm of the world wide
Web, of knowledge and terrifying ignorance
Of horrors and uplifting humor
From one end to the never ending
I am nothing without the Internet
I am proud to be all of these and more
I Am Nerd.
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
If there were a language for walls,
It would mumble,
Per broken jaws.
The sun would shine through fragmented holes,
A windows' lone goal?
To magnify heat,
Til' all was engulfed.
With confirmed dead inside,
None knock, as they've read inscribed:
"Family tree,
Difficulty,
Unavailable."
"Family business,
Buy one,
One comes free,
Fire wood sale."
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 12:23 AM UTC
Inspired by Wendy Mass' Every Soul A Star
I stare up at the deep blue sky,
At the sun and moon up so high,
A pitch black mass,
A hot yellow gas,
Float side by side,
Then they collide,
Casting the moon's silhouette,
So I begin to forget,
Of all the difficulty,
There was previously,
And began to accept,
I decided not to intercept,
Then he slipped his hand into mine,
And I felt just fine.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 4:47 AM UTC
Everything is so tight.
Jeans, leggings, dresses, shirts, skirts, jackets
and summer wear is even worse and more revealing with
crop tops, shorts, and even shorter skirts and dresses.
How are we all able to breathe?
Victorian fashion had corsets
and those made them faint!
So why does the fashion have to be tight?
Don't get me wrong,
I do like skinny jeans, and tight shirts and dresses
I am a girl after all,
we all give in to the status quo of fashion at times.
But, sizes are even smaller now than they were before.
I haven't gained or lost weight,
my waist size hasn't changed,
nothing has.
Except for the clothes.
Are we trying to make women smaller and thinner
by just shrinking the clothes?
It should not be ¨Survival of the fittest¨
in the dressing rooms.
That isn't cool.
Also, why are the pants so short?
I have long legs, okay,
and because my waist size matches someone who is smaller than me
then that must mean that I am short
according to clothes.
Therefore I have difficulty finding pants
that fit my waist
and my legs.
I am not blind to my surroundings.
Every single girl
Goes. Through. This.
We all have shopping woes,
some worse than others.
We all gain uncomfortable experiences
whether it be from something not fitting,
or from the attention on the streets
that we get for wearing it.
Then of course, don't forget the media!
Remember all those pictures of perfect people
being shoved down our throats
strangling us until we accept the fact
that we should be just like them.
Suffocation is the latest fashion,
and we are expected to wear it well.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
Recovery, Initially, is about knowing; Knowing that change is necessary,
Accepting that your life is not where you want it to be, About facing up to your fears and anxiety
Then taking the first step eventually… When you, and you alone, feel you are ready.
Recovery, Critically, demands pure honesty, requires the utmost integrity
Most Especially, when confronting your past traumas, your history
Though it may make you feel angry, sad and often times guilty
This process is key if you really want to move on, to change truly.
Recovery, Truthfully, is far from easy, It can be fraught with challenges, setbacks, difficulty.
It can hurt physically and even worse emotionally, Testing your will power to the extremity.
It takes great Strength, Courage and Bravery; Determination, Resilience, in the face of adversity
Recovery, Thankfully, need not be a lonely journey, Though you alone must take ultimate responsibility.
There are lots of supports out there happily; from good friends, family and in your community
Though it can be hard to ask for help, understandably…Let not pride undermine your recovery.
Recovery, Ultimately, is about getting where it is you want to be, about starting anew daily
About achieving realistic goals you have set regularly, Learning from the process; what worked successfully
Starting to believe in yourself gradually, Gaining an insight into what you are capable of ...potentially
Finally, Recovery is for all, a lifelong journey, Guarding against ambivalence, relapse, constantly.
Knowing that every day will, in reality, pose real threats for you in your recovery
But every day also presents an opportunity… to engage with, enjoy, your life more fully.
May 19, 2023
May 19, 2023 at 12:59 PM UTC
Oh God you are the greatest, nothing may compare to you,
Giving, oh merciful Lord, carry happiness through
Oh the one who gives and takes, give us all that is great,
And in our times of difficulty and need, send us aid
Oh please don't let our vision fade...
We are on our way onto your straight path, righteousness is paid
You are the radiance of the heavens and the earth
So please don't let us become corrupt, from our beginning..the birth
Oh Lord, you are the only one I serve,
I turn to you with a heart, filled with love
Everytime I recieve a blessing I turn to the clouds above
Grant us a fear of you that will be a barrier between us and sin
Please don't make our destiny the hellfire.
Ruined, is what we would have been
Free us from the fire of greed
Its what makes our heart bleed,
Kindness and patience is what we need!
Oh you are forgiving...so forgive us
~ Umi
Dec 20, 2017
Dec 20, 2017 at 9:22 AM UTC
Anxiety, Anxiety, Anxiety
How we worry about the safety
Of our dreams null and dainty
And our wishes of hope and subtlety.
Anxiety, Anxiety, Anxiety
Maybe a disorder in personality
Don’t know my main priority
But weary about a certain casualty.
Anxiety, Anxiety, Anxiety
Forgot all my functionality
Living life with absurdity
Death with such acceptability.
Anxiety, Anxiety, Anxiety
Please more of anonymity
Dealing with such difficulty
Of one having anxiety.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 10:28 AM UTC
You Sir, Are An Electrician!
**technocrat
— noun
a proponent, adherent, or supporter of technocracy.**
This city boy was expert at
Turning the lights on,
Unlocking the front door,
Putting new batteries in flashlights,
And calling the handyman to
"Please come upstairs"
When the degree of diving difficulty was a
Positive number.
Also,
Freezing the semi-permanently the DVR,
Triggering alarms,
Killing car batteries,
Making laptops question
Human sanity,
Tearing up when reading,
"Some Assembly Required!"
Raised in a city of experts,
He was unskilled in things electric,
Becoming apoplectic,
When a device had an
On/off switch that ignored him.
Somewhat famous he was,
For engaging the inanimate,
In a verbal dialectic,
Which included words highly phonetic,
But unsuitable for children's ears.
She was raised in rural pastures,
Corn fields used for hide n' go seek,
Riding goats after school
Just for fun,
Familiar with innards of
Deus ex machina, a/k/a
Minor engine repairs, and
Doing what he called,
Making reparations.
IOS7, heaven.
Cabling laptop to external devices,
Icing on the cake,
Dis and reassembling a German coffee maker,
Did not require calling an 800 number.
She never read an instruction sheet
Without pleasurable laughing at
Japanese English.
He was unashamed of his skilled
Unskilled characteristics,
For such is the way of the world
In the human kingdom,
Some of us two handed,
some of us, bi-standers.
But upon occasion,
He would bemoan his fate,
Decry his inability to survive
On a post-apocalyptic Earth,
Like the people on tv and movies.
Periodically he would grow morose,
Listless, at his inability to adapt to a
Point Oh world.
Uncomprehending
Icons and symbols whose meaning
Were wholly unintuitive,
He secretly ashamed of his need for
technological ******
She would sense his frustration,
Wipe away his inner condensation,
Climbing into his lap,
Whispering the following:
**You sir, are an electrician
of words, a verbal technocrat,**
Plumber of the depths where
Few fear to tread, explorer of the head,
Restorer of human paintings unmatched,
Without your ilk,
this world would be unbearable,
Your heart's warming silk
Comforts bodies and souls,
Speaking from experience personal.
Then, she flicked his
On/Off switch,
On.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC
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Mar 14, 2012
Mar 14, 2012 at 3:10 AM UTC
sitting in this mass of humanity
recalibrating.
sorrows unfolding
joys riping.
easy to judge
easy to dismiss.
difficult to be
compassionate.
difficult to see
everyone as yourself.
the illusion
shifting & changing.
tears and laughter
that is all one can do.
ever the duality
of nature.
ever following
natural laws.
resisting,
going against the flow.
only brings struggle
and difficulty.
surrendering to
it all.
moving along
in the flow.
breath comes
easy.
breath comes
deeply.
softening a
stance.
understanding a
glance.
easing your heart
melting your hurt.
the sun shines above
the pine trees sway in the breeze.
all moves along
as it is meant to be.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 2:08 PM UTC
How beastly the bourgeois is
especially the male of the species--
Presentable, eminently presentable--
shall I make you a present of him?
Isn't he handsome? Isn't he healthy? Isn't he a fine specimen?
Doesn't he look the fresh clean Englishman, outside?
Isn't it God's own image? tramping his thirty miles a day
after partridges, or a little rubber ball?
wouldn't you like to be like that, well off, and quite the
thing
Oh, but wait!
Let him meet a new emotion, let him be faced with another
man's need,
let him come home to a bit of moral difficulty, let life
face him with a new demand on his understanding
and then watch him go soggy, like a wet meringue.
Watch him turn into a mess, either a fool or a bully.
Just watch the display of him, confronted with a new
demand on his intelligence,
a new life-demand.
How beastly the bourgeois is
especially the male of the species--
Nicely groomed, like a mushroom
standing there so sleek and ***** and eyeable--
and like a fungus, living on the remains of a bygone life
******* his life out of the dead leaves of greater life
than his own.
And even so, he's stale, he's been there too long.
Touch him, and you'll find he's all gone inside
just like an old mushroom, all wormy inside, and hollow
under a smooth skin and an upright appearance.
Full of seething, wormy, hollow feelings
rather nasty--
How beastly the bourgeois is!
Standing in their thousands, these appearances, in damp
England
what a pity they can't all be kicked over
like sickening toadstools, and left to melt back, swiftly
into the soil of England.
4.9k
If you must know the truth
There are those just like you
Going through their struggles too
In this you are not alone
In this vast conspiracy
That is life to you and me
Daily knocking to the knees
In this you are not alone
If you find your needing help
With difficulty to work it out
With the cards that you've been dealt
In this you are not alone
Problems that daily confront you
Others have the same ones too
Under the sun there's nothing new
In this you are not alone
You find yourself at the foot of break
More wrongs than rights, mistakes you've made
Where there seems no save in this giveaway
In this you are not alone
You often feel like calling quits
As the world you're in no longer fits
Making no sense in all of it
In this you are not alone
Mark this moment down as truth
No matter what you're going through
You have me beside of you
In this you are not alone
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 8:52 AM UTC
Dear Teacher,
I am not your "Inspiration" nor am I your "Motivation"
Do not use me as an "Example"
They hate me enough already
I do not need to talk to you after class, I am doing just fine
Bs aren't acceptable?
I'm sorry I couldn't complete your assignment
I was mentally ill that day.
No, don't give me an A when I didn't work for it
That's cheating
Me
Out of life
Yes I can handle it
I'm not as Weak as you think I am
Dear Teacher
I know I made you cry at graduation
You didn't think I'd be able to do it
I told you
I could handle it.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
Have you seen it?
Seems like I've misplaced my mind.
I had it for a while...
Now it seems like I'm flying blind.
Can't piece out my thoughts,
a cacophony of riled up birds.
An **** of broken lines...
Overlapping and blurring into incomprehensible words.
Wandered in almost every direction,
but seem stumped at every end.
My mind is rapidly turning,
more foe and less a friend.
Confused is what it is at best.
Derailed far from its once reliable track.
Need to quickly regain my centre,
need desperately to get it all back.
Conjured this up...
With much difficulty.
Strenuous exercise...
For what once flowed freely.
Could it be...
That I have too frequently misused.
The welcome I've received,
that I have carelessly abused.
Ugh... Makes no sense...
Never have for a while.
Conflicting thoughts and words.
Crash into each other into a pile.
Need a reboot,
a reset and a restart.
Need to find my muse,
that stems from the heart.
Curse the mundane!
These excruciating hours of the day.
Begging for the nights,
to take me and my mind away.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 11:40 PM UTC
Looking out at all the choices that lay before me
Watching me with quiet eyes, they appear so peaceful
Knowing the moment I step forward that will all change
What once was picture perfect, now a mess of infinite crossroads
Difficulty lies in getting past my muddled thoughts, everything they are I can truly see
If I make the wrong choice it would be so easy to implode.
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 8:44 PM UTC
You tried to pull a gun on me.
I just pulled mine faster
But what you don't know is
Three days later
I put my gun to my head.
I couldn't live with the fact
That I almost pulled the trigger on you
That I was ready to stop your threat.
What you don't know is one month later
I still had nightmares
That I overdosed on pills
Hoping to never wake up.
Six months later
I still see your face
I still think of the what ifs
One year later
I still wake up screaming
Fighting your invisible threat.
One year and six months later
You voice still haunts me.
You were eager to **** be because I wore a badge and gun.
My coworkers ***** me.
Two against me.
What you two didnt see
The detectives interrogated me.
Told me I asked for it
I should have fought back
One day later the detective picks me up
I tried over dosing minutes before they came
They noticed the cuts but didn't notice
That I was falling fast
I couldn't keep my eyes open.
My speech was slurring
I walked like i was drunk
I made it through the **** kit
I got home and slept for three days straight
One month later i quit my job.
My body couldn't handle the stress
I kept dissociating.
Six months later
I still couldn't have ***
I started learning jujitsu
I had bought a gun
One year later
I was more confident
But i still feared ***
I feared men
I still had nightmares
Two years later
I'm still managing to struggle
I still hear your voices
Still see your faces
Still feel you in my dreams
Two years and six months later
I'm more confident.
I still have difficulty with men.
But now I am well on my way to be a police officer
An EMT
I can't let you win!
Ever!
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 11:52 PM UTC
The patient has had no nausea,
vomiting or back pain. No chills,
fatigue, fever, decreased vision
or double vision. No ear drainage
or hearing loss, epistaxis or
runny nose. No sore throat, calf
pain, chest pain, cough or difficulty
breathing. No pedal edema,
palpitations, black stools, ******
stools or constipation. No diarrhea,
urinary frequency, laceration, skin
rash or depression. No dizziness,
headache, head injury, weakness
or enlarged lymph nodes. All
systems negative
and yet
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 7:16 PM UTC
Crystallized hair pins gilded in her soft touches
Caressing earths ground
She sings the earthly creatures gently to sleep with her dream like sound
Sensible, sensitive my dear
Breathing in the clear dew drops hanging below the gibbous moon.
Natures serene dreamer planting their seeds, reaping - but soon one must choose
Difficulty arises
And despises the force of nature
Bends of the crisps wind - if shocks and stirs
It blurs her senseless ,
And shakes her earth. The goddess drinks the goblet of diamond
In silk she lays
Yet not be mistaken......
Surrounded by serendipity and indulging in life's pleasures
The crystals of the golden moon set in her hair
Beware she will leave you dreaming in heart ache
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 1:47 AM UTC
you leave a sour taste in my mouth, like the shot of apple cider vinegar i take at the end of each day.
things between you and i didn’t even get that far, tell me why is it that i feel this way?
never have we exchanged the “L” word,
never have we made love .
yet, a stinging jealousy lingers on the tip of my tongue.
the wings of thousands of butterflies in my stomach would flap, whenever my phone rung.
how can a kiss or two lead to an emotionally draining attachment? **** near a soul-tie!
i was certain of the decision i made when i said my last goodbye.
perhaps my heart had other plans for you...us.
but i told you from the jump a toxic trait of mine was having the inability to trust.
time passes and here i sit; in disgust, feeling all betrayed.
never have we been officially exclusive, still, i feel cheated on, neglected and led astray.
my mind has moved on but it appears to be my heart that’s having difficulty keeping up.
if i were to spot you anywhere i’d give a cold shoulder and a tense lipped “wassup”.
my soul bellows out to the Bill Withers classic, “Ain’t No Sunshine”.
if the saying “time heals all wounds” is true, then why is it that i am not fine?
the frustration with myself is far deeper than the frustration i have for you.
turns out the grass ain’t greener on the other side, turns out it was all too good to be true.
my spirit is stirred, but my eyes refuse to cry.
so i promised myself to keep my head up,
but ****
**** this soul-tie.
- d.berry
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 8:59 AM UTC
Life is full of problems ,miseries and hardships
To encounter any hurdle one has very many dips
Very many complaints remain under the lips
Very many sweet full moons remain under eclipse
What mockery is a man's life what test it takes
Soul remains always in trouble and heart just aches
In the hour of trial no one is there who partakes
Lot many chances do come in life but mistakes
Never leaves one to be able to be on path of solace
Heightened sentiments when encounter real grace
When one decides to take on difficulty face to face
Courage and confidence travels from race to race
Hope is hallmark of men who suffer with solitude
They are always ready to pay homage with gratitude
One has to remain happy and never ever be rude
What makes real difference is ones positive attitude
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 7:02 AM UTC
At a point of time with no certainty,
In between the sleep and wake of day.
In a minute where no one's there to see,
In that minute, I long to escape with thee.
All I ask is for a moment of your needed moments,
If I could, have even just one minute spent?
Everyone has stretched their fingers to have you, and darling all I plead,
Could you walk at midnight with me?
I understand that you choose to take things privately,
and even though this serves us with great difficulty.
But I'd chase through time, I'll await midnight,
If you could only please just spend this minute with me?
I have missed you, my love, terribly.
I could not ever just pull you from the presence of your closest colleagues.
Yes I know it's strict, we cannot be seen,
So I'll wait for the road to clear.
And when the way is clean,
and the clouds shroud over us, my dear,
I'll kiss you behind the loud cry of time.
I'll embrace you tonight, away from these eyes, as we have our walk at midnight.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 8:29 AM UTC
Dear Lovely, my tormented fair-maiden
I write thou in love, transparent and unhidden
I know you seek answers that are hard to find
searching this soul and this ****** heart of mine
Seeking the signs of a lover's true intention
while hanging on the lips of every word mentioned
You look and you hunt through your longing
to discover if I am your true belonging
I know by the pause's in your words spoken
that you're trying to avoid another heart broken
I've been honest, dear Lovely, with every answer given
and as you slowly say my name I begin to give in
But these walls I create are for the protection
of a heart once fooled with misguided direction
Everything I do, I do for our future
so you know difficulty inherent with this suture
With caution I proceed, by no cause of yours
But from past loves I've learned there are no do-overs
I, with pounding heart, beg of thee, please understand
that on this earth we can walk hand in hand
But time heals all wounds, and these are freshly made
I can love and never leave, dear Lovely,
once the scars begin to fade.
Jul 9, 2011
Jul 9, 2011 at 12:06 PM UTC