"disorganization" poems
The smile of iceboxes annihilates me.
Such blue currents in the veins of my loved one!
I hear her great heart purr.
From her lips ampersands and percent signs
Exit like kisses.
It is Monday in her mind: morals
Launder and present themselves.
What am I to make of these contradictions?
I wear white cuffs, I bow.
Is this love then, this red material
Issuing from the steele needle that flies so blindingly?
It will make little dresses and coats,
It will cover a dynasty.
How her body opens and shuts --
A Swiss watch, jeweled in the hinges!
O heart, such disorganization!
The stars are flashing like terrible numerals.
ABC, her eyelids say.
11k
Creativity
&
Madness
I've walked the razor's edge.
Playing it straight
In public places
No one knew
The thoughts and voices
Running around my head.
Fortune dictated
I never made it
To the walking dead.
Secret sharers
Come to me
At the beginning
And at the end
Of their plunge
Into that madness
Falling off the ledge.
No sleep came to them
Electronic insomnia
Ran them.
Cars became creatures
Screaming at them
As real as the table
Between us.
Imagination run wild
A chariot
The horses sweating
And running full speed
The reins either
Flapping untamed
Or
Imagination chained
Directed into these lines.
Creativity
&
Madness
At the razor's edge.
Disorganization
Voices screaming
When the wind is silent.
Miming up against the walls
No one can see them at all.
And in space as they said
"No one can hear you scream"
And space surrounds me.
Creativity
&
Madness
Pros & cons
Cost benefit ratios
*** makes it worse
The roots ungrounded
Crystal gears it up
Alcohol numbs the
Mind with depression's
Blanket of dread.
While ****** leaves
You strung out and lead.
The drugs they give you
Leaves you walking dead
But calm and able
To
Play it straight in public places
Far from the
Razor's edge
Of creativity & madness.
What's a poor boy to do?
Wind up sleeping in the park?
Cold wet encampment bound
Lost in the landscape
Of madness
Sights
Shadows,
A mind full
Of old echoes
Blinding.
How do we walk
This line?
A few fall over
A few are left behind.
Some never know what they could find
And some find that it all resides
At the intersection
At the razor's edge...
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 1:05 PM UTC
I used to think there was something
I dunno, attractive
about disorganization—
a scattered mind, having too many thoughts
to say at once, unable to focus on just
one thing because their attention is caught
by so many things they consider interesting
or insightful—I found it quirky, intriguing; a mystery
to be explored, a mind in need of dissecting
But it’s really more of a burden than
anything endearing, because it’s frustrating
to never feel like your words are correct
or your own, like you ripped them from a book
or only spit them for this poem
it’s disheartening to never be taken seriously
because of how frantically you lose track
of your subject and yourself
It’s shameful to be invaded because of this quirk,
but only for a short time
because the baggage is too heavy
and everybody’s hands are too full
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC
It is so incredibly difficult to come to the conclusion that it has only been four months since I have met you. After several days of trying to find words and knit them together into a poem was a struggle for me, so here I am, writing you a letter. I would also like to apologize in advance for the sloppiness and disorganization you will find in these next few words. I know I have said this several times, to you and to myself, but I will continue to say this until the day I fall. But you, you mean so much to me. And this love doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt to be with you. It doesn't hurt to think about you, because I know that you are mine. And I am so blessed to be able to see your smile everyday and see your smile at night when we drink strawberry shakes and as I steal your fries. I don't care what time is it. I don't care if I should go to bed, because you will be on my mind either way, awake or asleep. And I don't care what this world thinks. I don't care simply because the only thing I can even think about is you. It's you. It's you that I want to continue to hold hands with and take pictures with and laugh with. I don't want you to let me go when we watch scary movies and I want you to continue kissing my forehead when we lie down beside one another. I don't ever want to stop stealing your french fries and I don't want to stop catching you take sips from my strawberry shake. I just want you to stay with me. Please don't leave me. Stay. You are already stuck on my mind and running through my veins and I don't ever want to lose you.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 8:21 PM UTC
~
so obvious the mistake
the ordered disorganization
the summation of a man's life
in an ampersand -
a logogram connection
tween two words,
finally, properly sequenced
error then trial, then error then trial
perception - my life is an endless trial
punctuated and worsened,
periodically pierced
by errors
made of your own free (not really) choosing
*"whenever confronted by a fork in my road,
I always chose wrongly"*
and aye, here's the rub
the same mistake made repeatedly
example prime:
falling in love is just another way of saying
gonna end badly
and you constant cravenly confess
to yourself the ending unbecoming cause
you can read the handwriting on the wall
for your specialty is
only love poetry for dummies
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 9:31 AM UTC
They don’t know that they will all
die
in the end.
I have to write my pieces in
pen,
because when the ink runs
freely
my ideas run freer.
The ideas pop up
randomly.
I’m never able to catch them in time
Especially when I’m in my
“emo” mood.
“You don’t know what it’s like...
welcome to my life.”
Actually, Simple Plan,
I do.
Welcome to MY life.
Its not that
no one know or understands.
They just can’t tell
depression from
wanting attention.
And they’re all idiots for it.
“For a second I wished the tide
would swallow every inch of this city,
as you gasp for air tonight...”
I really do hate this place.
But do i really want everyone to
die?
I want to die.
That doesn’t mean everyone has to
go with me.
Even though someday,
I WILL go out with a
bang.
But not yet.
Oh, how I wish the
Anthem Of Our Dying Day rang
true.
“I know the world’s a broken bone
but melt your headaches, call it home.
Hey moon, please forget to fall down;
hey moon, don’t you go down.
You are at the top of my lungs,
drawn to the ones who never yawn.”
Yes, moon,
please stay up.
I want to dream
forever,
never have to face
reality.
I send my love back to you,
Northern Downpour,
even if I’m missing the point
entirely.
Of course I want to melt my
headaches,
but how am I supposed to call this hell a home?
Home is where the heart is.
My heart broke,
so I threw it away.
“All I ever wanted
was love.”
Me too, Christopher Drew
Me too.
Nov 4, 2011
Nov 4, 2011 at 12:33 AM UTC
I am longing to get lost somewhere far, far away. Away from the routine hum of constantly pushing the snooze button. Away from the stress of misunderstanding and complication, the hunger of chaos and disorganization. I desire to grasp the entire world with my own eyes rather than with a microscope that can only be focused on untouched possibility. I want to view life in vibrant colors I've only ever been able to understand in my mind and to speak of my adventures in words that have never been written down. I want to drive down avenues that no longer exist and balance at the very top of a mountain that has forgotten the feel of footsteps. I am thirsty for the impossible. I am exhausted of falling asleep to the sound of my own heartbeat banging against my bedroom walls and breathing in air that has already been exhaled in past lives. I will never settle for contentment. I will never settle.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 3:38 PM UTC
This disorder is characterized by three or more of the following symptoms:
1. Odd appearance or behavior.
2. Peculiar coping mechanisms that do not seem to follow any logical train of thought.
3. Fumbling with language to the point of gross disorganization.
4. Odd perceptions that can range from illusions to hallucinations.
5. Strange beliefs that fluctuate wildly depending on context.
6. Wildly wavering opinions on others -- that is, a fluctuation between idealizing and devaluing people.
These symptoms must cause some sort of impairment in everyday functioning, social skills, and workplace skills.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 2:04 PM UTC
Welcome, to the tragedy of my mind.
This distortion you see, you feel;
It's mine.
Take a peek inside, you'll be surprised.
Bright colours, radiant,
And thoughts scream in my dreams;
Disorganization, puts me sleep.
Unscramble my words as they stay itching at your ear.
Say it out loud!
What's there to fear?
I'm the sunset!
Exploding across your indigo skies!
But you were the night.
You extinguished my flame,
You turned out the lights.
I was a bright orange, but you remained dark.
You turned my vibrant sunset,
Into nothing but burnt embers.
Now I can't conjour a sunset,
I don't remember.
Shades of grey float in my mind;
Words, dull and tasteless,
Falling flat to your feet.
Thoughts of lonliness comfort me to sleep.
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 10:40 PM UTC
summer poetry kills us now.
Lemon.
like, lemon on your tongue,
but you love it
like, and you wish i wasn't so ******
and i wish i wasn't so ******
it's ironic in the way we keep living
i stopped calling
i stopped praying
cigarettes on my skin, that magic 8 ball, what'd it tell you?
stop asking me why i leave so often.
but hey, the last time your horoscope got it right- it hit you
along with every shot you took that night
singe, we singe our skin, chemistry converts calories and
today my bus almost crashed. almost
it goes something like, the unprecedented laughs we hadn't heard until its over
its over
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 4:53 PM UTC
A time of disorganization, neglect and
isolation; run ragged by desperation
and dark self destructive desires.
Who is in charge of these
mechanisms inside? A raging glutton
of obsession; no defenses. Tearing it
all down until utter destruction
devastation
a destination without rescue.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
Slurping accolades on Book of Faces,
****** poet **** romances himself.
Lubricating through superego Groups,
disorganization and breakdown of controls
chips him into corner. Bleak
moments of "Like" successes
are momentary arousals,
while blessings of truer constructive
criticisms become real get-offs. Spooging
on his own "Like"-abilities and
word-stock inventiveness he mops up
whatever approval he can.
Internet-tionalistic
becomes his coinphrase. He'll
Google-gunk it up in translation
to any language. So long as it buys him
some sensation. Forgive him,
for where else would he get it?
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 8:58 AM UTC
Turn the page, can you see that the pages have been erased, my shivering turns into screams, my heart pounds for instant gratification, I've found the lonely, I've found the love, instantaneously I fall to my knees.
Confrontation in front of my mere reflections, yes the faces are many, entertainment has rediscovered the hollow.
The weight of disorganization, I follow you as I catch a fading smile, don't turn to me wanting comfort, an execution of inheritance is long overdue.
Drifting into a flurry of cascading thoughts, my unsung influence is closely analyzed but you will be the one witnessing the unfortunate, establishing the quest is the ending to mistreatment.
Now back into the tunnel, a constant visual of the agony of my children, the purity of spirituality begins to cry.
Talent is not a description, the true pain of it all is feeling it all.
Written By: Christopher M. Schultz
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
unanswered questions
like a parasite in the blood stream
i feel them crawling through my veins
the confusion and discontent
infects my forearms
i can sense my blood flowing with uncertainty
nothing makes sense
except for you -
listen to me
look in my eyes, not at them
see the sorrow and disorganization
be there, be ever present
calm my blood
be my rock
understand me
until i can understand myself
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 2:54 PM UTC
I love you
You keep saying this to me
Expecting me to start undoing my bottoms
But that picture of you and her has been burned into my memory
You act like you two are just friends
But you are also a liar
Tell my wrists you love me
You are the guilter
Love to make others endure your pain, rather than dealing with things that are actually your fault
A table turner
Youve put yourself inside more than 20 bodies
I'm sick
I'm sick to my stomach
My tears stain my face like window pane glass catches rain
You tell her I'm crazy behind my back
That I'm JEALOUS
I want to claw your eyes out with rusty swords
I want to cut your tongue out of your mouth with a saw
To stain white carpets with your blood and not my own this time
I want to put your head on a spear and throw it down into the deep depths of the ******* ocean
I will show you ******* crazy
I want to rip your fingernails off one by one with a pair of tweezers
I want to shave your hideous eyebrows off your face
I want to cut off chunks of your hair with a swiss army knife and then bleach it
I want to gouge your eyeballs out with toothpicks and feed the remains to the piranhas
I want to pull all of the muscle out of your body and leave it for the ******* flames
Don't call me baby
I want to wax all of the legs hair off you
I want you to fall in love with someone
And then make you watch videos tapes of them cheating on you
Over and over and over
Until your eyes are a blood shot mess
Dont ask for forgiveness
You will never receive it
You are the devil reincarnated
I swear
I wouldn't be surprised if you were Satan's spawn
I hate you
I hate you like
The way my grandfather hates hypocrisy and things all against the bible
I hate you
The way my grandmother hates disorganization
I hate you
Like the way my mind hates my body
I want to wrap myself in a cocoon and never return until youre gone
My body misses sleep so much
But yet, here you sleep perfectly and j wish I could wrap my arms into your conscious and turn the switch back on
Why won't you change
I have never met anyone so disgusting
My chest physically aches when I heave for air
Because you've been sitting on my heart like a dagger
You're wounding to everyone around you
I am so sick of your voice
Hell I'm sick of my own
I just, can't figure out how one person can make you so sad.
I hate everything
But especially you.
Mostly you.
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 4:21 AM UTC
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Disorganization
is the mother
of Destruction.
-R.
Dec 16, 2017
Dec 16, 2017 at 2:30 PM UTC
I was 8
Breaktimes at school were the best
I remember the small field-not-pitch
Where we played football
Not as a game of 22 players
and referees and rules
It was a game of 44;
No, 46 self acclaimed stars
It was a game of the whole school
Everybody against everybody
Indiscriminate of ***
Or skill
Of height differences or body frame
Tackled by your teammates for dribbling too much
You could pick up the ball and run
Rugby style to the opposition post
Then kick to score and most likely, miss
Or get mobbed even before you get to the post
It was all so exciting;
Such disorganization;
So much fun.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 8:23 AM UTC