"distresses" poems
My throat’s all scratched from this screaming I’ve done
My diaphragm is all rubbery from these animal calls
But I carry on until you answer my distresses
O Captain, o Captain! Take me away from these generic hoes
I’m too swag for this ghetto
These ******* be hatin’ but you were always mine for the takin’
So take me now—like I did you…
Please. We’re friends. We’ve partied together and cried together.
I even bought you taco bell.
Take me away on your disco stick because
This club can’t handle me and my electric *** pants
What good is your love when just our chakras touch…
I need your grasp, I need your smell…and your **** dramatic stare
Captain, my Captain, you may not be fly like Kanye
And I may not be glam like Beyoncé,
But this club can’t handle us right now
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 7:31 AM UTC
The eye can hardly pick them out
From the cold shade they shelter in,
Till wind distresses tail and main;
Then one crops grass, and moves about
- The other seeming to look on -
And stands anonymous again
Yet fifteen years ago, perhaps
Two dozen distances surficed
To fable them : faint afternoons
Of Cups and Stakes and Handicaps,
Whereby their names were artificed
To inlay faded, classic Junes -
Silks at the start : against the sky
Numbers and parasols : outside,
Squadrons of empty cars, and heat,
And littered grass : then the long cry
Hanging unhushed till it subside
To stop-press columns on the street.
Do memories plague their ears like flies?
They shake their heads. Dusk brims the shadows.
Summer by summer all stole away,
The starting-gates, the crowd and cries -
All but the unmolesting meadows.
Almanacked, their names live; they
Have slipped their names, and stand at ease,
Or gallop for what must be joy,
And not a fieldglass sees them home,
Or curious stop-watch prophesies :
Only the grooms, and the grooms boy,
With bridles in the evening come.
4k
We thank you for our Queen,
For all that she has been!
By generations seen
As steadfast and serene.
Strong champion of the Arts,
She played so many parts,
Although our mourning starts,
She’ll live on in our hearts.
She counselled countless politicians,
Showed a loving disposition,
‘Service not self’ remained her position,
The Christian faith, her life-long mission.
She walked with the rich;
She talked with the poor;
She re-formed a nation
Broken by war.
Her Christmas messages
And kaleidoscopic dresses
Gave us hope,
Took away our distresses.
Above all, though she led our nation
She stayed down to earth, our special relation.
Now her train has left our station
We offer our humble adulation.
We thank you for our Queen,
For all that she has been!
By generations seen
As steadfast and serene.
Sep 10, 2022
Sep 10, 2022 at 3:28 PM UTC
Wondering about what I'm doing here,
Thinking of the stars and their light
I miss doing that with you
I'm like this astronaut wannabe
like two cats in a tree,
being so far from you; it distresses me
I've always wondered,
Maybe if I had changed
Mar 24, 2012
Mar 24, 2012 at 9:11 PM UTC
And He said to me: “My grace is sufficient for you. For virtue is perfected in weakness.” And so, willingly shall I glory in my weaknesses, so that the virtue of Christ may live within me.
Because of this, I am pleased in my infirmity: in reproaches, in difficulties, in persecutions, in distresses, for the sake of Christ. For when I am weak, then I am powerful.
I have become foolish; you have compelled me. For I ought to have been commended by you. For I have been nothing less than those who claim to be above the measure of Apostles, even though I am nothing.
For what is there that you have had which is less than the other churches, except that I myself did not burden you? Forgive me this injury.
Behold, this is the third time I have prepared to come to you, and yet I will not be a burden to you. For I am seeking not the things that are yours, but you yourselves. And neither should the children store up for the parents, but the parents for the children.
And so, very willingly, I will spend and exhaust myself for the sake of your souls, loving you more, while being loved less.
My grace is sufficient for you. For virtue is perfected in weakness.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 6:44 AM UTC
It is a silver snail between the lips,
cold as a quarter bitter as a penny,
Not even the aftertaste of chlorine.
Patchy F# smoker’s exhalations
Grit the teeth and the ball of cork
lolls in its belly.
Look down your nose
it looks back at you,
Blurred.
Look back at you.
On sticky tile bare toes clenched,
and chin lowered to chest, pool-parched lips
Took the Acme Thunderer and—
Blew.
echoes whipped from ceiling to surface to
bare-slick backs of streamlined swimmers.
Spines curved into fins—
Lungs collpasing slow as a circus tent
Even the bubbles tittered with reverberation
Faster.
Not a splash as pointed feet flicked at the ankle
Casting expanding triangles of wakes
And lips kiss-close to the plastic lane line
Breathed.
And finger-tips yearned for that two hand touch.
And now—
Blow.
Only shivers of sound.
Just spit it out.
That unmusical clang as it hits the desk.
Exposing distresses of is and was
escher-impossible to tell which is which.
Waiting for that hollow echo
of high ceilings and deep water.
Sep 29, 2012
Sep 29, 2012 at 8:57 PM UTC
It distresses me:
I just can't think straight these days.
But one thing I know—
I am alright without you,
And that comforts me.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 11:32 PM UTC
Dear Venus of my Heart,
The Solstice of blue, once flourishing with fiery flowers red, the petals of our garden froze. The chimney of our cabin of dreams, ambitious as Alexander's attainments, pops with the fog of the remnants of heat. We used to defy the now frozen roaring raging river of time and drink from the abstract notion of forever. For me, it felt like years embracing the elation of our entangled hearts, despite the days that went by. But reality is a grey mirror, and, in a hoard of wretched ways, I wronged you. Our Ecstasy, even extremely enlivening, was fleeting in behalf of my secret despair.
Imagine I a long-lasting love, a motto that guards me of any break. An unpierceable vowel, a couple for life, to live like lions loyal, bold and courageous yet entwined. So, to pour my emotions akin to the biblical flood and undergo an Ophelia, or even a Mimì, to subversion it distresses me. The motivations of mine may map me as an adamant, but I am a romantic, a believer of one true love. I just worry my machine shall yield to the snap of the edge and the ever yearly youthful yearning of restless consummation repels me. While passion is the feeling of the flesh, love is the feeling of the soul; one mate shall be fate. And my soul longs for you in spite of the lonely length that loosens our bonds.
Thus, out of my outrageous offense, I repent. I lament my vanity, this vividly voracious scruple of kissing way before and tragically after the priest's last words without a care for the bride. I apologize for this erroneous early enamor and the ceaseless insistence to the raw departure, leaving echoes of you in pictures of us. But now alas is time for my final parting, to let go because move on I shall. Heart breaks for heart's sake.
Forever and always,
H
PS: The fog shrouded our cabin of dreams. I feared going back to our place. But doubt no longer clouds my view, so I cleared the mist. Still, the chimney's black stains cannot be cleaned. Hope for this house rests on its grave. However, a new home is just around the corner. It is up to you to build it with me. I will be waiting.
Jan 13, 2021
Jan 13, 2021 at 3:22 PM UTC
****** distresses
Insatiably
Only you
Can satisfy
The primal
Urges
Which you have
Inflicted
Upon me
Shackled
To the arrest
Of your
Seductive allures
Slave to your
Sensual pleasures
Prisoner to my
Ambitions
To be the
Utmost of your
Sensuous
Pursuits.
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 12:01 PM UTC
It’s hard to care
for a bunch of flowers in a vase
Neither here nor there
Neither quite dead nor alive
Though seemingly full of life
And fragrant and beautiful
But it distresses me as they start to wilt
Petals fall
One by one — all
Perhaps it’s better that I get a
bouquet of dried flowers instead
Muted creams, browns and reds
They won’t be as vibrant
But flowers yet
They’ll dispel winter’s gloom
Add colour to my room
They’ll certainly last longer…
Ah, if only I were wiser and stronger
I could make the most of each moment
And enjoy the beauty of flowers and their sweet scent
But I guess I am silly
To brood over wilting roses, dahlias and that odd lily
Jan 1, 2024
Jan 1, 2024 at 11:26 AM UTC
Dear Love,
Hereby I solemnly pour down all my feelings for you in the form of a writing; waiting for you to read it.
Tired, sad, and mad.
Anger, emotions, and fatigue.
We've been through many things together, yet we haven't been through everything. All that we are is just an insignificant speck of dust around gigantic stars with planets worshipping them relentlessly; but I'm sure there's nothing and no one in the world who could worship each other more than us.
Despite everything, despite the madness,
despite the distresses — thank you for staying.
With love,
Detha
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 3:56 PM UTC
Greed is sloppy.
It doesn’t care
about the air,
water, or land
that we share,
so it makes messes,
distresses
local populations
whilst decimating
their habitats.
Greed is lazy.
It seeks swift returns,
so it doesn’t matter
if all the bridges are burned.
If the profit is turned
then shortcuts are ok
as long as it
can find a way
to not have to pay
for its own mistakes.
Greed is entitled
and when it
doesn’t get
its way
it invades,
lies, and betrays
the values it claims.
Greed is
a ravenous beast
that eats itself
right up to its eyes,
and keeps chewing
till we all die.
Aug 5, 2021
Aug 5, 2021 at 10:32 AM UTC
You know you were abusive right?
Honestly worse than your father
You strangled me with words
And left me riddled with questions and scars
Now the scars I applied myself
I had to create some physical evidence
Of the torture you left
And speaking of leaving
You left me
Which I'm happy to say
No longer distresses me
Even though you still won't adress me
Apparently
You go mute when I try to speak
Nontheless
I am no longer obessesing
But sadly
You learned to obess over me
It's obvious you started watching me
Amature
Cover your trail
You're immaturity makes your frail
But you were abusive
Though not anymore more
I finally have picked myself up from the floor
You see
I found the good in goodbye
And I don't crave you anymore
So goodbye abuser
And Thank you
For leaving me once more
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC
What else generates laughs
It's what comes of sadness,
It would be funny
If it were not sad.
What is most impressive
It's what everyone already knows,
It would be funny
If it were not sad.
What most distresses people
Are the consequences of love,
It would be funny
If it were not sad.
What generates more income for poets
Are the tragedies reports
Plucking joy of sad people,
It would be funny
If it were not a Poem.
Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 2:37 PM UTC
early morn (5:00am) scanning, scrolling,
unrehearsed searching and the question
appears in a “loves that got away” column,
*(why do all these descriptors start eith S,
I think I know!)*
and off on another self-effacing, investigative determination, a mental biopsy of another hopeless cause,
that results in poems too long
though the body and mind are rested,
with six hours of uninterrupted sleep,
and volumes of dreams,
the quest bags a burr in the bed,
(yes, rhymes with head)
but n o t h i n g pops in with a grin,
and a bell ring, stating presumptuously,
why that’s me
and the fault failure fear
in me
engorges
this really distresses,
with & in a deep sense of awful,
how can I not recall this momentous
illustrative precious precision
proof of why life is worth living,
and worser still,
don’t I get to choose,
isn't this an interrogatory,
suitable for a pre-provided
Multiple Choice Answer?
a pause to collect myself from a
falling into a hole of nefarious negativity spiraling,
*suddenly
recalling so many
kind and gentle touching brushes
of your comments re my poetry,
which provoked warm tears*
^***and one more tine,
poetry has saved
a life***^
5:37am Saturday 2-15-25
Feb 15, 2025
Feb 15, 2025 at 5:47 AM UTC
Wake me from this mask of opaque dreams
Cryptic in their defective cause
Suspend the flutter of my pointless adoration
For all these defensive walls
Eliminate delusions and impetuous desires
Which provoke my spirit negatively
Induce exhilarating fervor in my waking dreams
Softly apportion the one inside of me
Deliver patience as you listen for my nearness
Impart no distresses here
Reconsider any mendacious notions
Do not claim me in your fears
Show compassion as my eyes are open wide
Not suspicious and yet so knowing
Take heed in your watch as sometimes I stumble
In my attempts to get where I am going
Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 1:12 PM UTC
Delighted giggles ring in the night
I picture them skipping and racing in front of their parents, so eager.
Mom and Dad will lag behind and chat about what cute thing Susie did on the playground today, and how she cried for an hour because she wanted to start trick or treating early.
Now their plastic pumpkins swing too and fro in their hands; they drop what precious amount of candy they have worked for in the first ten minutes without even noticing their loss, they dash forward while the elders of the parade pick up the wayward treats.
To be young and gleeful again, they think to themselves.
Now endless bills replace endless candy bars and brief cases replace swinging pumpkin baskets, the glitter of innocence long gone from their eyes.
They can no longer afford reckless nights of illuminating bed sheets with flash lights in order to read books after the lights go out; flash lights with names inscribed in puffy-paint give way to harsh desk lamps which show the work left abandoned on the desk at night: Susie needs a bath, work will have to wait.
No longer can they crawl into their siblings’ beds and share secrets about such lovely things like the kitten they secretly feed in the mornings before school, or how Marianne uttered a curse word at home and got a spanking.
The only secrets they share now in the wee hours of the night are of their distresses about how to fix the leaking sink and who will pick Susie up from school tomorrow.
But soon they are snapped back into this crisp night
from their more somber thoughts
by the most beautiful sound in the world:
“Mommy! Daddy! Can I go to the next house?”
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 2:03 AM UTC
Countless dreams, vary in scenes, a fine, silver-line between memory and fantasy
Each moment manifests a different plain to rest the tail of an incomparable, natural power that distresses
Many of importance and significance to the objective and subjective mind placed within it's relevance
To the universe, death and birth, comparitive worth, is a waste in each turn of the earth
So unbound by the sounds of distracting crowns of falsely owned ground
A leap is made with no dismay, with a reassurance in the smile that everything is ok
Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 2:42 PM UTC
The one-eyed man
With his one-finger hand
Told me the one secret to life
Live by twos
And find two truths
And hopefully, never find two lies
Three people can join
While three can soil *****
And three pairs of pants will be needed
Four mistresses
Take four distresses
And pop four pills a piece
Five dollars is all you need
For five pound of speed
To do, for five days, about nothing
Six skin flicks
With six dude-chicks
Make six uncomfortable scenarios
Seven is what you need
Seven of the kindest deeds
And then you'll find perfection in seven.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 1:43 AM UTC
Wind distresses wood and window pane
Soundless damage in the shade of
stationary identity
Now, artificial names blow in the breeze
Where lush fields bloomed from wild seed
Memories plague my ears like bees
The meadows have been stolen away
A highway molests the scenery
And I taste the grief
My past ruined by washed identities
The scars have healed
Sealed off as far as eye can see
No shacks or desolate abandonment:
Romantic stops or medieval Fairs
The Age of Steel and Machine
has burst the attic of my dreams
Feb 27, 2011
Feb 27, 2011 at 12:38 PM UTC
Love blinds
Unwinds
Spellbinds
Love fails
Prevails
Unveils
Love distresses
Undresses
Possesses
Loves tries
Flies
Dies
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 9:15 PM UTC
If you evade me,
I will not enlighten you.
If you are oblivious of me,
I will not make obvious myself,
If you don't love me,
I will not seek love from you,
I you don't like me to pursue you,
I will not pursue you,
I will do whatever you intend,
Lest my resistance will hurt you,
If it distresses you,then it will distress me,
I impersonate your volition,
and I am your mother,
As an air and space I include you,
As a water you quench by including me,
As a land,I am your body,
If you cry,I cry...
If you are in distress,so will I be,
If you are blissful,so will I be,
and where by your intentions my existence around you emanates,
And I am always with you not as a thought nor physical presence,
but as an air,as a land,as a water,as a fire and as a space....
Always in contact because you are a product of my 5 elements,
And I have a memory,the memories are your intentions,
Every element that exists in and out,
transfigures with your volition,
So,if your intentions are pure,pristine,
Then you shall master my five elements,
If you seek me,then I will reveal myself....
Your seeking has to be super-intense that you could be receptive to the truth,
When I reveal myself,you will dissolve in me,
Into the eternal maternal muse....
Where bliss never cease to exist....
And then there are no intentions but unruffled reverberations.....
Seek me unto "that which is not"
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 1:36 PM UTC
Eyes are the windows to the soul
Is that why they are called blinds?
To blind the world of our messes
Our distresses as we distrust.
To hide from judgement, expectations
From speculating agencies
To close separating realities
What's yours stays yours and what's mine has been buried in the basement
No x will mark that treasure
Straight from the horses mouth
Doesn't it imply more than bit or bridal?
A brides tale of how it was meant to be
Her dreams of borrowed blue and new
Blue skies cloud minds and fog memories
Of what she once knew of who she once held
Who was always him forever
Where he went was inconsequential
Gone, so she pushes back the memories Burying them deep
No x will mark that treasure
The early bird gets the worm
But isn't still too late for the worm?
Too late for a change of plans
To change the exchanges we've shared
To shift how we will be remembered
With fluttering morning wings
Mourning the loss of loved ones
Tears shed falling lightly in the grass
Seeping into earth and resting on wooden surface six feet below
No x will mark that treasure
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC
I collected the currency of my failings inserting voices
into the deluge of my figurine dancing on the precipice
of my tainted visage.
But I was short of necessitates, fraudulent reimbursement
was reincorporated, and I was woven unwept as the distresses
of what I had done wove upon my silhouette.
Blank verses were woven on my pools of sky blue, now vacant
only snow flakes of nothingness fell on my perception.
I was not as before I was whole but concussed in creation.
Interwoven, incomplete essences of me. I wasn't that which
was reflected outwards, all that was now interlaced in an
abomination of false reflections and I paid the ultimate price.
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 5:24 PM UTC
Lately, I have not loved
I have not loved anyone but myself.
The worry of wanting beyond oneself distresses me
It makes me act like a child in a world of grown expectation
Still, the look of his eyes made me no more than a little girl.
But the world is beyond playgrounds
And the pearl of my centerpiece
made me stand on my own ashes
There was no time nor pain in your house.
I wanted someone who asked me to never let go.
Not a spouse,
A full-time worshiper loved in part-time.
Once you were a given,
I’ve seen that I was the sun for my gloomy days
The sakura of my February spring
There were no more blurry lines from which to be rescued
and no longer giving what could be spared
Indeed I healed the heart I neglected when I left for you
And when it's cold outside and I need to be cherished
There’s no despair
It’s not love
It's only spoiling for an affair
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 12:04 PM UTC