"dismissively" poems
Have you heard of the
gardens clandestines grow?
The neighbors have, although
until today the gardens were usual, not a
pastime no one would seriously guess.
The flowers are conceptual homonyms
bordered by Boxwood africans
no breadwinning cardinal would bless
with its roost.
Grass beneath a golden ninebark
is slightly depressed where some pistol was.
For the past few years the neighbors have wondered daily What the hell is it this guy does?
What, with him always vaguely mumbling "...lots of business trips." It's dark
now, blood spatter coagulates on the picket fence.
Four tire streaks on the road,
the responding policemen kept it hushed, speaking in code
to disembodied voices on a radio. Not much more than a glance
and shrug at the neighbors' concerned inquiries.
One consensus formed: he was deep
in consequences from promises he couldn't keep.
This was speculative, of course.
The palm trees
rustled above their heads. "Maybe he was a clandestine,"
one of the neighbors remarked
as another dismissively barked,
"Ridiculous! He kept a garden!"
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
You've said and I'd have to agree
I'm
selfish,
*Because
I refuse to let you do anything to me,*
Selfish ......
*Why because
I refuse to spread wide & let you
**** me then leave?
You've expressed to others
how*
Selfish
*I can be,
because
I wont give in to your deceit,
I refuse
to allow you any sympathy
when it comes to
your fuckery
your an
infectiousness diseases...*
Selfish
*cause I wont be
subdued with all
the lies and ways
you mistreat me,
all the game playing,
trying to scheme
fake me out,
while you try to
make me lay out
my cards,
ya stupid cheat,
Selfish
because I've told you*
I Wasn't Ready
*I'm calling your bluff,
Your not so tough,
Ya sort of funny papi
Your always trying to knock me,
wishing to cause havoc and bring me down again.*
Selfish
*huh
really?
I'm so*
Selfish
*because I'll put my children
all of them before you,
I've placed my walls back up
wont allow you to climb em
I've changed my mind
more than once it's cause
of something you've done...*
*You've got me rethinking
being up on this pedal-stool
&
I'd rather you stop shaking it
so
I can get down
but you'd rather see me fall.
It's*
Selfish
*of me- right
cause
I'd rather not have to fight,
I don't like being put down,
Specially ya
small jabs
about my mental
the many excuses
you've come to make
time and time again
You've dismissed
my past and all
the bad that's trapped me,
You make fun of me
for having PTSD
& D.I.D.
You've said and I'd have to agree
I'm*
Selfish
*cause I don't want to do this,
I don't need another man's
to abuse,
or for you to
use and beat me
I'd rather be*
selfish
*then to take care of another drunk
or man with any type of addiction,
even if you're addictions me.
I'll be*
selfish
*While
I guard all that's dear to me
You've already
deliberately
tried to cause me so much pain
dressed it up and called it love
but I wasn't fool to your game.*
Selfish
*huh?
Is it because,
I didn't let you in
well not as much
as you'd like me to,
Naw papi
it's because
You
can't just pop into my life
then try to take it over.*
**SORRY MOTHER ******
*You can't mistreatment
and abuse me
than bring me flowers
cards or candy,
You can't rock my body
then dismissively
treat me like
I'm worthless....
But it's me
whose so *******
Selfish.
*I've said it long ago
Oh how he thinks
I'm*
"His Type"
*Well that's not true
because
baby you've made it
so **** clear
that
I'm nothing.
Besides
a *****
a **** & a ****
A *****
even though
You've apologized
each and every time
those
words left your lips,
not right away
but you've done it
&
I refuse to forgive you
over and over
each time you've
repeated ya crimes...*
*No way could
I allow you back
because
you showed you'd
do it
again and again,
and if
BIG ******* IF,
if I allowed it
which I wont-
not anymore and never again
its because
you've said it
right
and
if you cant
remember
well baby
I'll help you
out
its
because
I'm*
SELFISH!
*Always Me Ayeshah ™ ®
K.A.C.L.N ©
All right reserved ®
Copyright 1977 - Present*
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 10:20 AM UTC
your hand waves
dismissively
your eyes as stone
you turn you head
I translate your body
tracing a spiral path
away from me
I read your heart
*go away,
go away*
I press my face against
a wall of glass
try to drive you
drive you
out of me
try to forget
that one moment of knowing
that one moment of joy
before the storm
sweet child inside of me
tender girl, forlorn
tender, tender heart
where is my river
my boat
my long journey into night?
Feb 16, 2011
Feb 16, 2011 at 8:20 PM UTC
Drinking at the bar, I suppose it was that time of night
When the Drink itself starts doin' most of the talking
And the guy says "I've been through the **** man, in this life, I've waded knee deep through it... the deep ****
And the other guy says "What **** you talking about ?"
So he told him, yea! He spins out his tale of woe
Of hurts and grievances, injustices and false accusations, bruises and batterings received both physical and mental
A whole sorry catalogue of troubles, of fights and quarrels, anxieties and illnesses, struggles with various multiple monsters..."
When he's finished the Other says rather dismissively "You call that **** that ain't **** that's ******** Sure my **** was bigger than that, much bigger
The **** I went through, Man! Some of the **** I seen...indescribable man'
So then he starts to spin his tale of woe... more ****
And when he's finished the Other comes back at him saying
**** You call that **** that's horseshit!
My **** was bigger than that, much much bigger!!
Your **** it's just... it's just *****
And so, there they were the two of them, at the bar arguing to and fro
About whose **** was the bigger
Till suddenly over in the corner, out of the shadows, with his face half obscured
This man, he clears his throat rather loudly
Causing them both to momentarily stop their bickering and look over
He then slowly raises a glass of JD (Jack Daniels) to his lips and takes a long sip
Then he says "What do you know about... the **** ?
Huh! (said in disgust) You don't even know what **** is
Why, my shit's bigger than both your two ***** put together"
Then he smiled a menacing smile and said "You wanna hear my **** story"
So he spins his tale of woe, a real shitstorm...
A real Moby **** of ****
The others they listened in awe
When he'd finished, One said very impressed
"Man!..Man That's... that's some ****
Then another said "That's Big **** !"
And another "That's real Elephant **** Man!"
Then silence reigned in the bar
Until one sighed and said wearily
"It's all **** this ***** isn't it?
Nov 23, 2022
Nov 23, 2022 at 7:53 AM UTC
Cadaverous crotchety gouged out eyes.
Scalped trite and malnourished minds.
Where am I? What has this land become?
My vessel is gutted galled and splayed out upon the enflamed remains of our democracy.
I try to embody the equanimity peaceful qualities of the lulling Gandhi characters before me...
But **** I am angry, jolted and saturated in shock in fear.
Being an advocate for the people so dismissively marginalized, is what brings substance to my life.
I look into the eyes of my mirthful clients and future students, my heart winces.
How did I allow this to happen to you?
A man who so boastfully incinerates and debased the citizens of our land with his farcical vitriol, is no man at all but merely an unsightly shrew, cozily cosseted in his world of soot and pooh.
The bosky gorgeous land we inhabit sobs in noxious fright.
To be despoiled and berated as some "natural right" splintered and tainted to allow the green cash river flow into the dubious maw of the man with no dignity to show.
A man who preens such a degenerated mindset is only aptest to a society in shambles.
Our global haimish home yearns for the equilibrium from which it was born.
In such a seeded tumultuous time my heart is seeped in reverberating sorrow.
Let your love and purity coat your vessel, do not let this barbaric man permeate your soul.
Hold steadfast to the testament of our land
True revolution is budded from a web of genuine connection, not devise brandished weapons.
Don't shroud yourself in misery, break free and be prepared to encite love with your authenticity.
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 1:57 AM UTC
i feel that in some places
physical apologies only
make things worse, and
for all the times I tried you
always dismissively waved
your hand and shook your
head, pacifying me with a
simple smile, no, Brooke,
this was my fault.
But the truth is, I'm at fault
too, so one day I hope you
don't look back on me
in dismay, somehow find it in
your heart to forgive me for the
way I am or was. Because love
does not boast the way I did or
refuse an embrace from someone
so confused.
(And although this
wheat field is grand and seemingly
endless I'm thankful to run through
again and again if it meant learning
more from you)
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 7:52 PM UTC
"People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones" she said.
"Well" I said
Maybe I don't mind this glass house of mine being shattered, maybe that's the idea.
Maybe I'd prefer to be seen in all my transparency so you can no longer doubt or question me, cause maybe the glass that forms the walls of this cage isn't see through enough for me.
It fogs with the breath left from all those half truths and words I use to give you clues as to Who I am and Who I'm not.
The words that echo back to me creating so near, so far images of the me that I've forgot.
Maybe in that fog you're not the only one that can't see me properly.
I can't see out...looks frosty
I'm cold, yet I can't stand the heat
As this glass refracts light from gazes
Of spectators and haters pointing pointless fingers as they take a seat,
Insulates a rage in me!
"People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones" she said
As if I couldn't take what was about to come.
As if to dismissively say
You're not ready yet
Don't let this cocoon you've
created come undone.
Giving me forewarning
so I could standstill and run.
Look at me!
I stand still but I run!
But Maybe I don't mind being homeless,
Maybe if I'm home less I'll feel home more in myself absent of barriers,
comforts and fears of wealth and worth
So I grit my teeth,
dig my feet into the earth
"People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones" she said
As I hailed the first one at her
Watched the crack spread
Across her face
Creating lace shapes
And split her head in two
As her image struggled to cling on
With every molton strand of sand
Left to her but she had no time left to seek
as she fell creating a mosaic of shards,
broken glass at my feet
Stepped over them
People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones she said
Well I just did
Cause I helped raise this Glass House in fear
And I will knock down any monument to dictatorship
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 10:12 AM UTC
I touch death
everywhere. It is
pleasant sometimes. It is shooting
upright stone forever
up. It is
cold metal blue, wind moving rushes,
holding on to a snag as smooth as couch
chamois. It is
feeling wooden table bones, random spontaneous
tapestries, my skin, your skin,
my clothes wet with substance,
drawn through mass downwards, on to
you.
I would let them go through me, if I
could, like smoke, like
talk, I feel
(deaf, mute) the smoke inside from
the drug inside. It would be outlawed
if they could
reach inside,
visible words of hair-lit thinness
on what is sought, reflections appearing on
the beyond side of ordinary surfaces,
tasting like
salmon. I saw the glinting
salmon meaning in a poem, Jorie. It was
like when the sun came out with her,
predictably, and I thought to trust it,
perhaps this once, for hurt can’t last
without the good also
lasting. Maybe I
just wasn’t listening right, this potential
human being, this possibility, this normal
occurrence, mundane, talked and
scribbled dismissively as a dejected
thought of dejection about dejection about
what it is
all about. Write it down,
it’s a crossword, long as the climbing
steps around the earth, senseless as
black.
white.
There could be much in nothing, but it’s
everywhere outside, and there are just a few
stars, really. The billions are
few
in the outward sinking sky.
See, I touch death, colorlessness,
everything, sitting on
ledges, feet dangling, today as yesterday
as tomorrow, trying to stop this thinking
habit, trying to be a Buddha about it, but the
wind is
cold
this time, and there are too many of you.
Maybe next time something will appear here,
in soaking colors and ever
pulsing acceptance, understanding
blood, moving,
living, meaning
from beyond here, tomorrow or yesterday,
but I hope today, before I am touched
by it, and realize
nothing.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 8:00 PM UTC
Of what poetic alchemy does this leaden torch
Transmute to golden lines, ear whisperings?
Do our hearts not skip a beat when the comfortable
Silence that is part of our poem's melody's weave,
Within its tapestry, are placed just so?
Is it not a pointless point, my pen's unending one
Does alight, for reading isn't hearing?
Is not a twig of poetree, earthen, sun sparked,
Skybound, too true to expound?
And when our heart gestures,
Bleeding ink lines dance,
Engraving such imagery in a mind's eye,
Feelings within a breast, bemusing the ear,
Do they not accompany
In the Spheres choreography?
Is nature not awoke
When bards extemporaneously
Evoke such wonder that co-creation
Of the universe is quickened?
"Ya got me!", a listener asserts
Dismissively, as the audience laughs.
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 3:42 AM UTC
a whirl of exploding stars
fears her dissolution into vapidity:
all her planets will drop off,
drearily
deciding
infinite nothingness over boredom.
dense lenses, telescopic eyes
pass over Cimmerian smears of sky.
distance misses her outreaching gravity:
dismissively
desultory,
unaware that darkness is not empty.
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 6:17 PM UTC
~dedicated to the heart fixers~
sometimes I smack my head,
when a poem commission is lying on
the ground before me, and I just don’t
hear it, believe it, in order to retrieve it…
many months of physical rehabilitation,
sessions always ended with a certain cutesy
Gen Z~Millenial crossover phraseology:
“remember to tell someone you love them”
the instructors mostly youngish,
so we senior~smile
a tad dismissively, give them a reward~grin, and
head for the locker room,
where we gossip and compare notes,
on the Part II of our in-process-future-realization,
living a grueling new life of self-preservation, 24/7
the PTs & EPs pound you on the machina, go faster, work harder,
eat better, sleep more, take those meds, motion is lotion,
walk the talk, never be still, but race to live longer and
prosper, this hard work is your new job, and resignation
is non~optional
now, it hits me, via a figurative sharp slap on the side of the head,
triggering an actual physical manifestation that reverbs to the toes,
that the most important lesson went under the radar,
evading the former trader’s dimming vision,
flunking himself on the rehab test paper,
a purple F for fool,
a grade, earned and deserved, and herein poetically preserved
the hardest heart work, begins only after you co-
commence the longest road back to where you once
belonged, but where you can’t walk alone, for therein
a recipe for failure; and the work that needs doing,
is on you; take that tear-repaired heart, and give it away, it,
one can be healed, but not if sealed, for the hard-hearted
walls thicken, and “*over time, the thickened heart muscle
can become too stiff to fill the heart with blood; the heart
can't pump enough blood to meet the body's needs.*”
so break off pieces of your heart, give them away with
relentless abandon, for this is the heart that self-repairs,
new tissue, new fiber, and most important, regeneration,
the one single reparation that can successfully
accomplish the true miracle of getting by giving,
no forgiving, if you don’t exercise the heart by
“remembering to tell someone you love them”
dedicated to the hard working staff of the
Cardio Rehabilitation Unit
of Nyulangonge, Rusk Institute of Rehabilitation
who started me
with a mighty push on the long road to utilizing my heart properly
<•>
Apr 26, 2024
Apr 26, 2024 at 8:13 AM UTC
How you become a part of the earth, and away from it.
Grab your furs and your moss. Pull them closer.
I have tried to walk near the entangled forest.
Its belly is swollen and impregnable.
Its warm tongue flicked at me. “It’s just a fever.”
Though you flail your arms dismissively
as though to ward off danger.
There is a malice in everything that whispers.
“It’s just a drop of blood,” you say.
Though it draws you out in anger.
It doesn’t mean something.
Though your eyes are prophetic, crowing for the dead.
Still.
Everything in unity.
This white morning may destroy me.
How I bend and unbend without my acquiescence.
By nightfall my eyes will be moons.
I will open for a moment
and blink out.
Swift as dust.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 1:04 PM UTC
fingers(deeply)
who amongst dirt
suddenly moments
point
steeply through drunk summer
rain upon lips
(fluttering dismissively):
memory to imp
(by blind words)
such wings, heart
leaves(roots)body
grassAndgrassAndgrass
become. (my dear that i have loved beyond poems to say)
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 4:15 AM UTC
Someone such as she
With someone such as me
There’s no way I’ll believe
That such a thing can be
My face; synecdoche
She looks, dismissively,
She wants what she can see,
And not what I could be.
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 12:19 PM UTC
You're so cynical.
Not moved by those crocodile tears,
You frown and scoff dismissively,
As if you've not cried in years.
We stigmatized the nation,
Because you couldn't understand,
That sometimes people just want affection,
Need someone to hold their hand.
So you're drowning in the grave you dug,
As it fills with water and bile
Of those you thought to be smug,
Cutting them with words vile.
You didn't get the memo.
Not everyone is mean,
But of course you cannot hear that,
As you deafen us with your screams.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 6:16 PM UTC
and the idol was so reliant
on an alliance team
without their subsidy he'd not
obtain acclaim's dream
the popular limelight elevated
him up into the stratosphere
none of his zealots were
yearned for around here
they'd been used by a
so called fellow who rocked
on finally realizing the fact
they were dismissively shocked
of recent days the tin god
is attempting a revival
but past stalwarts assert
there's no prospect of survival
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 9:08 PM UTC
I’ve been remembering dreams lately. I don’t know why.
I dreamed I had a conversation with God, last night.
We’d finished moving into the university residential dorm - this dream was ripped, directly, from reality.
We (God and I) were on a bench in my residential courtyard, and she asked me what she’d gotten right - in creation.
My mind went blank, I mean, what do you say to THAT? But she was patient, like she had all the time in the world and finally, I came up with something.
“Porcelain tubs,” I said, watching her for a reaction, “beaches, kisses, oysters on the half-shell.” My voice goes all singy-songy when I’m nervous.
“Fashion,” I added, a moment later, “At SOME point we’d have had to have clothes, ya?”
After a bit, she stood up and I knew she was leaving. “About that touching thing,” I started, hesitantly.
She fluttered her hand dismissively, “everyone does it.” She said as she faded away.
When I woke up, I was disappointed with myself. It seemed like such a softball interview.
There are so many mysteries she could have explained, like UFOs, bigfoot, republicans, why people say “heads-up” when they should say “duck” or if running away from my problems could, henceforth, be counted as exercise.
Aug 26, 2023
Aug 26, 2023 at 1:50 PM UTC
Seasons open with excitement,
And die dismissively.
All souls rush to a new beginning,
Not looking at the current ending.
Most try to skip forward,
Get to the "Good" part,
When the best is in front of us;
We just need a glass of appreciation to look through.
The small things are not the small things.
The tiny things are what shape us,
And have the most value.
There is not a person who loves you,
Whose love does not count.
Isn't a love without the want of ****** intimacy
More valuable?
The fact that they love you without wanting something from you,
That is often considered the base of Love?
These small loves,
Are the most important ones.
Those friends,
family members,
pets,
Are the ones that matter most.
They are the ones that will be there for you,
Loving you through a romantic heartbreak.
They will be your weight,
For when you just want to float away into the abyss.
Hold these seemingly tiny loves close,
Because they are the largest, most important kinds of love that you will ever experience.
Don't let them go,
Just because someone whose love seems more important tells you so.
Hold on.
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 8:30 PM UTC
It’s alright if you disagree
Talk to me dismissively
In a minute you’ll be missing me
When I go on a giving spree
Spread forgiveness and philanthropy
Set political dissidents free
Fight for humans globally
Glowing with righteous indignation
I ignite the fiery conflagration
I assemble a mighty congregation
To end divisive dehumanization
I will broaden your perspective
Shortcut your invective
My spirit: infective
My speeches: inflective
My mind: introspective
My method: incentive
My solutions: inventive
My course: corrective
If I die I’ll leave directions
I will write advanced directives
To form an animal collective
That sets a course for correction
Then come back, resurrection
To view the utopia I brought into existence before peacefully returning to a well-earned oblivion
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 4:48 PM UTC
Shall I say “I love you” again?
Endless fawning adoration,
I fear there will be a day when
You tire of my adulation.
But those words are bound up in me,
And I can’t hold “I love you” in,
They cry out with sincerity,
Though to your ears they might wear thin.
“I love you” is significant,
It shows you how I want to live,
Born of feeling magnificent,
But sometimes all I have to give.
Forgive for each I “love you,”
Don’t dismissively demean it,
They’re only spoken if they’re true,
And each time a man should mean it.
Dec 21, 2018
Dec 21, 2018 at 9:22 AM UTC
Yo've chosen another one,
Were maddening by someone,
But I chose you charitably,
Loving you is incredibly.
You treat me so dismissively.
You still think I love you,
But that's definitely untrue.
In your new relationship
Are there tenderness, blessedness ?
Or only a bitterness ?
You're not my enemy anymore...
I'm looking for a new one more.
That's not the end...
This is the beginning!
Thank you, me blossom winning,
For this year end.
@marknyangacha
Mar 26, 2022
Mar 26, 2022 at 1:42 PM UTC
You answered with a dismissively cold "okay."
And I knew it wasn't going to happen
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 10:54 AM UTC
"I remember Coyoacan," Jay told the interviewer,
sitting under mahogany-and-cane fan blades on the veranda.
Leaning back, legs crossed,
He smiled easily and added,
"He didn't believe in me, Trotsky. Too bad.
"The palms were dripping that day, but the rain had let up.
Mercader set his raincoat on the table
with the ice axe under it.
Trotsky was reading.
When he looked down, Mercader withdrew his weapon,
swung and sculpted a new Winter into Trotsky's mind."
Jay shrugged, as if to say what can you do?
"The guards rushed in and beat that man like a pinata.
Each fist was an eloquent argument,
each kick a blow for the worker."
He waved His hand dismissively.
"It was too late of course. Mexico is devout, but unforgiving.
"Trotsky knew he was dying, and said so.
An aide brought a basin for any final ideas,
and someone put on a phonograph record of Russian dances.
Across the room, Trotsky could see where Death had scrawled
'Te veo pronto'
on the mirror above the sink in red lipstick.
"He never asked for me, and died the next day."
The interviewer followed Jay's gaze to the flower garden--
dahlias, the Mexican national bloom.
"The Aztecs used to eat them," he told the interviewer.
The scribe wrote this down on his pad from the hotel,
with "Bienvenida a Coyoacan"
in bold script across the top like a leaflet or a prayer card.
Aug 3, 2025
Aug 3, 2025 at 4:13 PM UTC