"disagreed" poems
Here in America,
we improvise morgues
as needed.
in the cafeterias
or by the lockers,
near the ticket booths,
and at the altars.
We divvy up the dead.
Tally them
and report the number
like an answer.
13, 20, 49, 58, 6
Every death count
a timely national shock.
Almost as if
our well-televised
monthly tragedy
was ever anything less
than a game of roulette.
anything less than a matter of time
and time and time again.
Covering them each
with our bed sheets,
we try and stifle it.
Do our best to
staunch the the sights,
the noises,
(“just like chairs falling”)
the names
that keep bleeding out
onto our thoughts
and tongues,
Far too much and
too often
not to choke on.
Here in America,
we’ve learned that
horror is level-headed.
It is debatable.
It is pangless.
It seeps, deep to the core,
perverting with a silent smile.
the steady, feverish dread
weaving itself into the mundane.
the “god help us”
annulled by the
“respectfully disagreed”
the nightmare that lies
always just underneath,
and just out of mind,
Until it insinuates itself
Again and again...
Here, in America
We line the bodies,
death slumped, and
bled out on the pavement.
We arrange them-
Side by side.
Most are missing things-
a hat, a piece of face.
one shoe, a dulled pencil
(fill in C)
phones
buzzing on the ground
lit up with unread messages
(“Please call me”)
They are missing-
an upcoming
7th birthday party,
(Star Wars themed)
They are missing-
their vacations.
their first dates.
their college applications.
job interviews.
kids.
fiancées.
Lined up lifeless,
they are missing
far too many things
to gather.
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 3:14 PM UTC
You said you'd love me
No matter what I did--
I understand
You said it was alright
To have bad days--
I understand
You said that I could
Make my own decision--
I understand
You said it was okay
If we disagreed--
I understand
I understand that they were
Empty words
And that in actuality
You want me to be
A Sunshine Girl
All the time
I understand.
I'll go back to faking my smile.
I'll go back to crying in secret.
If you want me to be happy
I will be.
Don't worry about me--
If you ever have, I mean.
It's alright.
I understand.
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 8:46 AM UTC
A journey followed by a road, reaching to the distant sky,
Feelings which cannot be conveyed in words, but actions, disappear in the sea of truths and lies, under the drifting clouds of the night,
A red thread, connecting us without having the answer to where it actually leads, meaningless questions remain floating in thin air,
Ages fade but my infinite lifespan, allows me to shine for you forever,
My heart reflects your tears, which before moistened the earth below us, making me overflow with emotions I couldn't even understand,
Space and time, are for me an obsticle, which I must overcome,
So my gaze, even though is fraught with sin, lead you to happiness.
Spread like moondust across a damaged surface, you departed into the unknown of the night, disappearing within layers of darkness,
Yet, I am not sad for even if you may not be with me from now on,
Always cheering for me to move forward, it would be a shame to give up now, even if we had our troubles, fights and sometimes disagreed.
And if we can never return to the past, let's enjoy the allure moonlight
Together we laughed and cried, yet this dream ended today,
What's left are the memories and the feelings I have felt.
~ Umi
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 6:19 PM UTC
he thought of moving it
out of sight.
disagreed, like to see it there
now, remembering.
see the reflection in the light
of my torch after dark.
the shape leaned against
the wall, the space in the shed
where it used to be.
we tried to give it away, no one
wanted it.
it has been a while.
sbm.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 2:02 AM UTC
It goes without say
marrying into a family of cannibals
is not a good idea
your first argument as a couple
might not go so well
Mar 22, 2020
Mar 22, 2020 at 9:13 PM UTC
Dedicated to my wonderful Father...
My Father, My Guiding Light
Dad, you're like the sun to me, a sure thing,
always there, beaming light and warmth on my life.
Whatever is good in me today,
I owe to your wisdom, your patience,
your strength, your love.
You taught me by example, as a role model,
how to be my own person,
how to believe in myself, instructing me without controlling me.
Even when we disagreed,
you held us together, so our bond was never broken.
I understand what you did for me,
and I am so grateful that I have you as my solid foundation,
my rock. I respect you, I admire you, I love you, my guiding light,
my daddy
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 4:36 AM UTC
A strong woman you are
Determined & Intelligent too
We disagreed often
Just like sisters do
Shared plenty of laughs;
Tears too
No one could replace u
My Dear Sister
Sisters 4 Ever
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
"She did the laundry
in the mirror of me
I saw myself in
the mirror and disagreed
with the smell,
The thought of you
was beautiful,
but I was wrong,
and a feeling of discontent
-ment
came over me,"
Misspellings
Mispronunciations
An unconquerable world
of big money
I parted ways with the large
and saw another even larger world,
One that was intelligent and reads
the Wall Street Journal, listens to NPR,
and says "wow" at the sound of hearing
one million dollars, or upon hearing about
San Francisco start-ups,
or Silicon Valley.
Or the opposite, in some ways, but still very
similar to - Virginia Woolf.
whose book on feminism
which I'm unable to explain fully other than
to say that she suggests
that women only need
a bedroom, money, clothes, etc.,
or rather, less than etc.
in that, they need little, but only the bare supplies.
That they should be able to supply themselves with what they need
for when their husband, which, you know, is not required, in her eyes,
for when he separates from her
and leaves her 'in the dust,' alone without anything,
perhaps only with a child, or in another instance, estate-less,
with only a white dress, really more of kitchen-robe than anything else;
like Virginia Woolf says, we should really try and dismantle the patriarchy
that we write and tell about. Reader, what do you after reading a story, article, or book on radical or moderate feminism say? The boys, like me, who will tell, or, try to tell their perspective of the book and say to the closest person around them, "I just read a great book by Virginia Woolf, she brings to mind an image of a university with white buildings and ends of roofs of university buildings leading along to the the main hall of architecture buildings, with sidewalks pristine and underneath people walking in their sweaters, collegiate, and later to make their way to art history classes in the fall evening. So, like Virginia Woolf, who makes you ask why you're not at the Parthenon, but instead are inside of your house, in a city that you don't want to be in, at a hospital, in your apartment, or surrounded by whoever, she nevertheless gives you have a feeling of longing-ness and a strong emotion of want. Virginia Woolf when will we go to Greece together? What do you know about Athens and classical architecture, I nearly beg you.
December 30th 2018 7:11am
Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 9:51 PM UTC
we did not Dye in vain!
by michael r. burch
(from “songs of the sea snails”)
though i’m just a slimy crawler,
my lineage is proud:
my forebears gave their lives
(oh, let the trumps blare loud!)
so purple-mantled Royals
might stand out in a crowd.
i salute you, fellow loyals,
who labor without scruple
as your incomes fall
while deficits quadruple
to swaddle unjust Lords
in bright imperial purple!
Originally published by The American Dissident
Notes: In ancient times the purple dye produced from the secretions of purpura mollusks (sea snails) was known as “Tyrian purple,” “royal purple” and “imperial purple.” It was greatly prized in antiquity, and was very expensive according to the historian Theopompus: “Purple for dyes fetched its weight in silver at Colophon.” Thus, purple-dyed fabrics became status symbols, and laws often prevented commoners from possessing them. The production of Tyrian purple was tightly controlled in Byzantium, where the imperial court restricted its use to the coloring of imperial silks. A child born to the reigning emperor was literally porphyrogenitos ("born to the purple") because the imperial birthing apartment was walled in porphyry, a purple-hued rock, and draped with purple silks. Royal babies were swaddled in purple; we know this because the iconodules, who disagreed with the emperor Constantine about the veneration of images, accused him of defecating on his imperial purple swaddling clothes!
Keywords/Tags: royal, purple, imperial, Tyrian, Byzantium, porphyry, swaddling, clothes, porphyrogenitos, mollusks, sea snails, royalty, kings, lords, emperors, popes
Mar 28, 2020
Mar 28, 2020 at 4:35 AM UTC
Frost underfoot and crisp cold air
morning dew, everywhere
each a crystal pearl
a million drop fruits unfurl
as far as the eye could see
caught precariously
by all the tiny hands
on every flower, fern and tree
a myriad of wonder
nestled here with natures mother
Time is irrelevant
other than the pressing
impatience of Another
To him it was just wet
bathed in ignorance
and bad for driving,
so he said.
I disagreed.
and had to take
the bus instead
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:42 AM UTC
See I wanted to write about you and everything that I silently picked up on up
if you're wondering what I picked up on
Body language and cues
The way you tensed up when you were about to hear bad news
your anxiety
how it at times it came crashing down and you didn't know what to do
I reassured you the best way I could
when you're concentrating or deep in thought about something
( I knew not to disturb you )
opening up to anyone was a task in itself
you hated doing that / I understood
The way you like to sing off key you think you sounded horrible singing wise
I disagreed
Personally, to me, I thought you sounded good
you told me a lot of info about yourself gradually over the months we got to know each other
I told you a lot of things as well
but one thing is for sure I picked up on several things you weren't aware of and I'd never tell you this
but you're easy to read just like a book
if you're annoyed, angry or upset
you might think oh no one cared or noticed
I noticed
as it was written all over your face meaning you had the most readable ****** expressions
if you're wondering how I knew about your moods
it's simple really I could tell in the tone of your voice
if you were about to cry you had a certain tone of voice that suggested quivering in I'm about break down and cry tone of voice or how you were upset you had a certain way of behaving that let me know either to give you space or to comfort you
if you were mad ( depending on what the issue was / who the individual was and how long ago it was in addition to the details determined everything )
how you'd need space or you felt upset / still brought up the issue no matter how long ago said everything
and how could I forget your favorite songs the way you hummed them
favorite food and snacks
I still remember the details that you told me
the way we both know I'm fine or I'm okay
is a complete lie when either one of us
is upset mostly you though
when you're upset or down it's like I can sense that your energy is off / vibes are off some way or another
but one thing about our friendship is how we told each other several things
and because of that I still remember how you react
favorite snacks
your dreams and what your plans for the future were
how you handled relationships
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 12:56 AM UTC
Sometimes I miss the holy grace of ignorance,
Sometimes I miss the comfort that I felt when I read about David and his caves,
About his moody eyes and his harp,
About his *** addiction and his jealous, musical heart that only a god could love,
About the way he loved with abandon, reckless, selfish, taken aback in naivety, balking at those who dared disagreed with his unwavering need to be as he was
David made me ***
David made me feel closer to God and my mother
David told me a story of lust and ****** and protection and angst and a sweet tortured easily patronized self
Maybe in all of this, one day this flawed, beautiful man who murdered a giant and sang to lambs
Would be me
A woman, self possessed, soothing sheep and culling sleep in her victims.
Passion dripping from her honey harp.
David, thank you for the awakening and for the saturated hedonism that you spoke to in me.
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 5:10 PM UTC
RINZAI BOX
Had to have a psych eval
at the box factory
a human resources workup
to make sure
I could handle work again
making cardboard condos
for little mammal prisoners
of the pet trade
who live on hot windowsills
until someone comes to love them.
I got too depressed once
when I found tiny bunnies
mewling in a dumpster
their only refuge
yes
a box I had made
you could tell
it said assembled with care
by Kevin
and I missed a month of work
and got written up
for just being sad.
The shrink diagnosed me
a cognitive distorter
a predictor of worst case scenarios
but I disagreed
since I saw the sad bunnies for real
and he puffed up like a blowfish
stammering you’re the patient
I’m the man.
Well I’ve been around the zendo
so I challenged him
smartypants answer this…….
Do bunnies in boxes
have Buddha nature?
Irrational and pointless he said
hmmmmm I said
how do you know
maybe you’re a narcissist
on a psychobabble fugue
echoing in a therapy box.
But I have Buddha nature
and I put that in the boxes I make
and the Buddha bunnies go in the boxes
and you here in your Buddha office
are not separate
just uniquely boxed
and the label on the bunnies' box says
assembled with care by Buddha.
Jan 30, 2012
Jan 30, 2012 at 12:46 AM UTC
All I do, all I am has a toll attached to it,
Every time I wake up Waiting around are my taxes,
I will pay my taxes
Taxes of rumors and gossip I will pay for my public persona.
Taxes of misunderstandings, divergences and sporadic frustration I will happily pay for my happiest of relationships,
I will pay my taxes.
Taxes of theft I will grudgingly pay from my vast wealth and abundance
I will pay taxes of generosity and philanthropy,
I have argued with my taxes, disagreed with them,
I found that trying to escape my taxes is but vanity, a chase after the winds
I will pay my taxes and enjoy the fruits of what I get to keep,
I will pay my taxes.
May 4, 2020
May 4, 2020 at 12:13 PM UTC
Antarctic stares from Arizona eyes; white knuckles, heavy blue pores.
No, nothing changed you anymore.
Rapid touches to the abdomen, the sound of violins breathed in your mind
and he's not usually like this, you said, "He's actually really kind."
What didn't **** you, left you broken.
And you had misspoken, as your words slurred into tears that never fell,
after a fifth of alcohol and half a night of hell,
as you revealed that you thought without him you were nothing at all.
You whispered this
while I cried to you for the last time through a cellular call,
through an invisible, static, insurmountable wall.
And I disagreed because I had seen it all:
heavy blues and brave bloodshot brown eyes,
"Please don't, I think there's more to you than you realize."
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 8:58 AM UTC
The others never got to Jane
quite like tequila had.
While sober one might think her plain,
Jose turned good girl, bad.
In a haze of salt and lime she
thought herself a hero.
A partying vigilante,
but powers? She had zero.
That never stopped Jane in her tracks.
She thought herself quite brave.
Jane’s friends disagreed with these facts,
and wished she would behave.
On the night before prom they drank,
Each kid grabbing a brew.
Jane grabbed her bottle with a “thanks”
and drank the whole night through.
The tequila was pumping through
her veins and Jane felt strong,
as she did a slurred rendition
of her favorite song.
Though the words were a bit muddied
and she was quite off key
the group all sang along with her,
the crowd howling with glee.
“I’m strong!” They stared. “And you know it!”
The drunken hero rose.
One boy yelled, “She’ll fall and eat ****
They watched, all on their toes.
“She’ll try and fly again.” one said.
Tequila Jane was nuts.
“Last time she slipped, and fell and bled!”
***** made Jane a klutz.
“Get down from there!” her friend growled,
grabbing her by the hand.
“Back off man! Total party foul!”
Jane squealed, trying to stand.
But the liquor was too much, those
the shots had made her woozy.
Jane passed out, thus the story goes,
of our favorite ******
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
hyacinthus, i am selfish
everyone already knows that
i would sacrifice the world for you
and not once consider turning back
the flowers you weaved into wreaths when
we were two boys in love with each other
they sat like crowns upon our heads
we were just two kings in a field of flowers
aphrodite warned me what was written in stone
that my father had given only one throne
she warned me that it could never fit two kings
but when my gaze landed on you, i disagreed
for you, i would have offered my throne
for you, i would have traded my crown
for you, i would have sacrificed the world
for you by my side, i would have let it all burn down
but for you, hyacinthus,
i will also learn to be selfless
i will listen to your soft, dying words
and upon river styx, i will promise:
i will not tear the world apart
to have you by my side again
i will be bitter, i will be vengeful
but i will not act upon my vengeance
for the sake of this undeserving world
for my love towards you, i will be selfless
for the sake of your dying wish, hyacinthus,
i will swear, i will promise:
i will let you go softly,
i will not be selfish,
i will let you go gently, my love—
gently, but not unnoticed
Jul 11, 2021
Jul 11, 2021 at 8:04 PM UTC
you, i suppose, are a piece of map
but i, nothing but a piece of plain paper
you disagreed
we ended up agreeing to disagree
my love,
i adore you so much more than flowers blooming
more than the stars that forms the constellations
perhaps, more than my morning coffee
you are the sugar in my coffee
my world is sweeter with you in it
you watered the flowers in my tummy
with your blue ocean eyes
who knew that was possible?
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 11:37 AM UTC
six blind elephants
disagreed over what a human is;
and they concluded
they’d have a direct experience
to resolve the matter
and so the first elephant
felt a human and declared:
“A human is flat”
And each other elephant
through its own direct encounter
concurred on the lack of human dimensions
And so there was an end to the discord
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 8:29 AM UTC
If you knew then
that the last embrace was the LAST time you will be in her arms
would you have hugged a little tighter
If you knew then
that the last fight was the LAST time you disagreed with her
would you have been more forgiving
If you knew then
that the last dance was your LAST time you would be in her arms
would you have danced a little longer
If you knew then
that the last gift was the LAST gift you would ever give her
would you have put in a little more thought into the present
If you knew then
that the last stroll together was the LAST time you walked hand in hand
would you have walked a little further
If you knew then
that the last time you saw her smile was the last time she smiled back at you
would you have captured the moment forever in your heart
If you knew then
that the last time she cried on you shoulder was the LAST time she would need your support
would you been more understanding and supportive
If you treat every moment
as possibly the last moment
would you not then LIVE in the MOMENT?
Apr 10, 2010
Apr 10, 2010 at 2:32 AM UTC
Florida tore us apart with its sticky lies and hot hot días
Benadryllic hazes in which I ceased to play a role in your dreams
I dreamt of dark tall hipsters who loved sandwiches on pan whiter than their skin
A last resort, you called them, and I disagreed
I fought sleep with weighty eyelids, forced you to prop yours up like tiendas
You betrayed me in sleep while I betrayed you in daylight
We both shed bitter tears over regretful pasta dishes,
then decided again to be a juntos (do you know what that means, dark-skinned boy?)
During the days I’d fill boxes de galletas with the remains of an expiring lifestyle,
wondering quietly how much of it would fit into my new brick bedroom
You and I dreamt a juntos, falling asleep to shared breaths in separate beds
Mailing tokens to hold instead of each other, pretending that word-heavy
paper smelled like tú o yo
Always aparte on birthdays, I learned to roll my r’s while
your grandmother cooked you mole
I boiled water for boxed delicacies in pale shades of yellow and brown
You stirred chocolate into glasses and downed them one by one
I looked to Saint James for absolution, but always found him durmiendo
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 12:47 PM UTC
Needing evidence they had to dig back 4 years and take a look
Finally finding words to use against me they say
Blocked from ****** book
For another 21 hours and 28 days.
It's true I am a unique individual
And as many see the world in my own particular way
But Comrade Zuck all bow to the king disagreed
Clamped on the irons and silenced me
For another 21 hours and 28 days.
Your meme goes against Community Standards they said
Tsk Tsk and they slapped my hands for being bad
Just one post outside the Matrix was all it took
To get myself blocked from Commiebook
All Rights Reserved@ Tammy M Darby My 18, 2019.
All Material Stored in Author Base.
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 10:17 AM UTC
You were far away.
Farther than halfway across the room,
A glass in your hand and that crooked smile
Rising like the sun on your face.
I was swimming-
Maybe drowning in a sea of people.
He was trying to talk to me-
About the every days that composed of
Almost nothings.
I swear I felt my skin wrinkle in my
Little black dress
And my toes pinch in
My high heels.
I told myself it was worth it.
He said I was beautiful
But I look across the room
And your eyes don't meet mine.
Each time I look at you and
You don’t notice me,
I feel myself taking a step into
The inevitable stairs of
Heartbreak.
I danced all night with him-
He taught me how to waltz in squares
And spin in turns.
His hands fit into my curves
Like those plastic cylinders
That build towers and cities.
But I still felt it didn’t belong there.
Your hands
I bet would fit like roots into
My earth
And this would beat any hundred story
Building because it was natural.
He might have disagreed with that
And at one point through that night
So did I.
If my heart was beating a thousand times
Per second and
My palms rained over my knees
And my cheeks were apples ready to
Be picked every time you passed by,
Surely that isn’t natural.
Slowly, I was pummeling
As the night neared its end.
I had not danced with you.
I had not talked to you.
I had not even walked by you
And yet I could have.
But with a heart beating as loud as mine
I didn’t want to risk you hearing it.
One thing for sure though,
I know was completely natural,
Was goodbye.
It was going to happen
And most say that it's the worst moment
Of any night
But honestly,
I had fallen in love with our goodbye.
Good night wasn’t enough but your
Tan rays of light blooming the roses
In my cheeks,
Proved you to be a source of life.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 9:11 AM UTC
She was 25 years young.
and beautiful
beautifulˈbjuːtɪfʊl,ˈbjuːtɪf(ə)l/
adjective
pleasing the senses or mind aesthetically.“beautiful poetry" synonyms: attractive, pretty, handsome, good-looking, nice-looking, pleasing, alluring, prepossessing, as pretty as a picture; More of a very high standard; excellent." he spoke in beautiful English”
She made everything feel temporary
my problems
my fears
my thoughts
my love
She was just amazing, wonderful even
She had dark, tousled hair, and the most beautiful eyes; I got lost in them every chance I got
They were brown eyes, but **** they were mesmerizing
They would glow in the light and I couldn’t help but fall into them
She had the most Delphic and inimitable tattoos that I’ve ever seen on one single person, they decorated her porcelain skin perfectly and poetically.
I liked times where we would just lay, with our feet tangled together and I would trace one of the tattoos and she would reminisce about it and the experiences she had during that time in her life.
Her knowledge amazed me, she always kept me on the edge of my seat with her stories
Her voice was one of the things that captured me, her melodies and her lyrics. She knew I loved jazz, we would go to record shops and we would scope for the good ones and at times I would stop to look over at her and she’ll be staring at me. I complained but god knows I loved it. I loved her.
I loved the times when she would walk over to the single window in the cheap motel that we stayed the night or two at, and she would light a cigarette and scold me for being around the smoke; but she would cave and hold it up to my lips and she would look me in the eye as I cough the smoke up.
Those were the time I loved
They were the times I lived for
She would always tell me to not love her
That she wasn’t worth my innocent and tender love
But I disagreed
Time and time again
She was everything I wanted but didn’t ******* deserve
But what significance are all these words coming from a sixteen-year-old, who is now learning and experiencing life?
It was bound to end.
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 8:02 PM UTC
It was 3:42 on a Saturday
When a boy picked a lilac
From a bush in his backyard
To give to a girl that he thought
Was as beautiful as the morning sun.
It was 4:05 on a Saturday
When a boy gave a girl
A lilac and said that it
Reminded him of her.
It was 4:06 on a Saturday
When a girl studied a flower
That a boy gave her until she
Tossed it aside and disagreed.
"No one could ever love me."
It was 3:31 on a Sunday
When a boy picked a lilac
From a bush in his backyard
To give to a girl that he thought
Was more stunning than a sunbeam.
It was 3:39 on a Sunday
When a girl studied a flower
That a boy gave her until she
Tossed it aside and cried.
"I'm not pretty."
It was 6:15 on a Monday morning
When a boy picked every lilac
From a bush in his backyard
To make a crown for a girl
That was more royal
Than a queen.
It was 8:02 on a Monday morning
When a girl woke from her slumber
To a knock from a boy on her doorstep
Who held a crown of lilacs in his hands.
"You are every petal of every flower
I've ever held between my fingers.
But I can't appreciate their beauty
Until you appreciate yours.
You're beautiful to me."
It was 8:14 on a Monday morning
When a girl finally believed
She was loved and she
Was pretty.
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 7:55 PM UTC