"doubtfully" poems
An artist,
I’m scared to be left to my thinking atoms and nuclear cells
Why solder my raining thoughts to reality
In my head I can’t trust these clockworks
Rusted gears precariously tricking forward
Tensions unbalance on a pinched nerve ending
Hesitate I retract to others knowing what I don’t know
That once I start I might fail
I don’t do what I want to
I don’t speak when I want to
When I so desperately need to
Before I explode
Violently, into a void
Void of emotionless urges
An artist like me if I so believe I am
Doubtfully attempts to act in the face of thunder
Only to cowardly hide in a cat’s whisker
Inner bricking delays outer progress
Progress I provocatively flaunt to the alive bodies
While knowing the fallacious congrats is unwarranted
I don’t believe in magical rainbow kitten surprise wishes
But I won’t also hide my love
With the internal flame dimming
I want to act the part by flipping over the stones
For the mysteries hidden away
To see them crawling out
My untapped desires
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 6:34 PM UTC
He found her standing before
the large Ocean staring unseeing at
its mysterious frozen surface. She was
shivering. He watched her
doubtfully for a moment.
"The Ocean is too cold and too big."
The Goddess thought out loud.
In reality, The sky was too: cold and too big.
And the
whole world
was: too cold, too big. And even too
cruel.
'Goddess,'
he said to her back, where’s
your coat?'
'Where’s yours?'
He moved to stand beside
her hourglass figure. 'I’m warm.'
She tilted her head to his.
'If
you’re warm and I’m coatless,
there’s only one friendly thing
for you to do.'
'Go back and get your coat for
you?'
She smiled. Reaching out to
him, he pulled her close
against him. Being a gentleman he wrapped
his arms around her,
surprised, and tried to rub
some warmth into her
shivering shoulders and back.
'That’s it exactly,' Goddess said.
'You must keep me warm.' As a gesture to never let her go,
He laughed and held her
tighter with one hand, while drawing a sword at the rest of the world.
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 4:34 AM UTC
Enid removes her glasses
wipes them
on the hem
of her skirt
tries to clean off
the smeariness
she breathes on them
they cloud up
she wipes them again
I watch her
near the wall
of the playground
after lunch
waiting for her
are they better now?
she asks me
I look through them
the view is magnified
a million times
one big blur to me
yes that's better
I say
giving them
back to her
and watching
as she puts them
back on
pushes the wire arms
over her ears
then pulls the hair
over her ears again
is it all right now?
she asks me
sure I can see your eyes
clear as day
she nods
and looks
at the playground
and the other kids at play
why do some boys
call me four eyes?
or ugly bucket?
she asks
some kids are just finks
ignore them
I tell her
I can't help it
if I have to wear glasses
or am ugly
she says
intelligent people
wear glasses
and hey you're not ugly
I think you are
quite a pretty girl
as they go
she looks at me doubtfully
and then at the kids
and look Mrs M
wears glasses
and she's a teacher
and bright
Enid sighs and sits
on the steps
leading down
into the playground
even my dad thinks
I'm ugly
she says softly
you're old man
wouldn't know prettiness
if it came up
and introduced itself
I say
she smiles
do you think
I'm ugly?
I frown and peer at her
look I'm no expert
being a 9 year old kid
like you
but you can be
my Maid Marion
to my Robin Hood any day
could I?
she says
sure you could
she smiles wider
and says
thank you Benny
and walks down
into the playground
and goes play skip rope
with a couple of girls
by a wall
and I walk
down into
the playground
feeling six feet tall.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 3:53 AM UTC
Am I really
The air that you breathe?
'Cuz I'm ready
To see the truth behind your lies.
I'm still dreading
When they shape into your eyes.
I've yet to shed a tear.
Bleeding tongues,
Burning hands...
That sound still hurts my head.
A click of the hammer,
My dreams will spill out,
This is my answer
To my questions of doubt.
Take away
That tone in your voice.
Shake me awake when you go;
For I long
To be
Close to you.
She cries out to her god
She begs him to come.
I'm sorry my dear
But,
Bleeding tongues,
Burning hands,
That sound still lingers
In the back of my head.
I hope you realize your god is dead.
Your savior is gone.
Look at yourself,
Eating your cancer,
Showering me with
Pain that I know.
That fear in your heart
Is what keeps me around.
Your savior is nowhere,
Hiding in the clouds.
Please grasp this message
And look towards the ground.
The only thing you need,
Is the hope in your fear,
Now turn around, breathe
and face me my dear...
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 3:29 PM UTC
They've sold their souls in the midst of humility
and super-pervaded occult, they've sacrificed
people just to get that fancy car, and that
mansion like paradise, and all that glamors on the
face of multi-universe, they are living in the era of
self-aggrandizement, and more doubtfully
contemplate christianity, they moved a step
further to promote atheism, the concept of
humanistic thought have been overthrown, and
decisions made under the philosophy of
postmodernity, depictions of reality are mystical
and emanate from the dark prisms, their
conception of glorification is different from the
society's, therefore I'm hateful and watching as
the world slowly chokes itself to death.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 4:09 PM UTC
Little black bird,
I was once you
I died inside myself and hung in the shadows
There was nothing on this earth lonelier than I was
Just as you write
I was once you
I saw a slight glimmer on earth and that was only a puddle beneath my feet from my tears falling off my face
I saw humanity but nothing worth saving
I felt nothing and screamed inside all day long until it was time to finally rest for a few hours
I answered questions doubtfully and walked alone
I was once you
Silence understood me better than anyone could ever begin to
Darkness was my best friend
Love was my enemy
Family was a foreign concept
The sidewalk knew me better than I wanted to admit
My diary stared me back in the face and mocked me
The mirror couldn't stand me
My eyes were always hazy
And music was my savior
The realm in which I lived was heavy
Every day was an ongoing battle of depression and it was never ending
Life was a sick joke and happiness did not exist. Ever.
Because I was once you,
I know that you are great.
I know how beautiful you really are inside
Beneath the destruction,
In the place where nobody else knows where to find
Someplace you have not yet discovered
Trust me little black bird,
You may be small but you are not overlooked.
You may feel weak
But you are stronger than you realize.
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 7:16 PM UTC
Preparedness is a fallacy
Struck with unexpected reality
Doubtfully embracing your arrival
Second thoughts of commitment
Satisfied with contentment
Abruptly changing perspective
Overwhelming compassion
Mind numbing satisfaction
Granted purpose to the unaware
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 1:17 AM UTC
. . . . . . .
. .
. . . . . . .
i would like a space marked out
wherein in silence i'd observe my sacral auguries,
and insularly divine
amid mid-dawning light contingencies,
to sweep a magic sweep for sunrise-
-tabula|_|rasa
and find, founded in a flout: a sect beyond sects
to section self sectionless~
inwrought helix interhelix nest~
and there reside attentively
()blinking() s l o w ...ly
in rainbow eyelash quiver flow,
arrows soaring ' ' ' ' ' 'centerly
to pin
each
whirl
of dream,
of sleep,
mneumonic residue,
prehensions right or wrong clear through --
symbological goo, too--
all too evidently called
from out an obvious deep
oblivion of plenum om,
or so it's said it's seen
in clear eidetic percept room
of alter overmInd of mindstuff's tomb [*]
and form of selfish altar drama gone and soon
for looking in or out or neither both
oblique, about aboutness-mirror zoom~
to which what spectionism halves
behaving in a twofold twining intro free: the finest of the fine:
insight-interred intuited sign
quiescently, albeit doubtfully at times, benign
.
.
.
.
Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 4:32 PM UTC
He came up to me this guy and introduced
himself
"Hello", he said, "I'm You"
I looked at him uncomprehendingly, even a
little afraid
I thought 'How can you be me, I'm me... not
you'
It's like he'd come to take me over
He was after my pronouns
He wanted to own me
It was like Invasion of the Body Snatchers
Or the Angel of Death, the Grim Reaper come
to get me
I was about to take off running down the
road
I thought "You can't take me, I... I'm already
taken
Then I thought 'If you're me then who am I,
I'm what then....
Maybe that was it, maybe I was a What now
And he... he was a What-not or a not-What
"You! You're You", I said back to him a little
doubtfully
"You", he said again this time with emphasis,
"You O'Brien"
I looked at him closely "You, you're You O'Brien" I said slowly confirming what he'd
just said/told me
Then it hit me You!... Hugh the Borg from Star Trek (the Next Generation LoL), that episode the Borg collective Guy becomes an individual
"You're Hugh" I said greatly relieved, you're
Hugh, Hugh with a H
It was like I'd been released 'So you're not
me after all'.
When he'd gone though I thought, maybe if he had of being me he might have made a better job of being me than I did.
Feb 12, 2023
Feb 12, 2023 at 11:23 AM UTC
My roommates and I congregated in our suite's great room and we’ll head out for dinner soon.
“Have you ever eaten dog food?” Leong asked Anna.
“No,” Anna answered, “it smells like chicken - it’s got chicken in it”
“OOO!” Leong pounces, “Busted!!”
“What?!” Anna reacts.
“How would you know that then?” Leong asks, doubtfully.
“My mom told me!” Anna cries, in self defense. “She’s a vegetarian too.”
“Your mom told you.” Leong said, like a prosecutor raising an eyebrow for the jury.
“I just took my last English class,” I report, pony-tailing my hair, “my teacher told me - privately - that my writing destroys.”
“Nice,” Lisa says.
“Yeah,” I say, smiling and grooming with pride, “I thought that was a ballin’ complement and I’ve been riding that high.”
“No doubt,” Anna says and nods.
“My English professor..” Leong says, exasperated, “is driving me crazy, I’ve written three final papers so far and she’s rejected them ALL.”
“Huh?” I gasp, “Show me one!” I demand, wiggling gimmie-fingers at her laptop.
“Here’s a question,” Lisa asks the room, “What would you change about your childhood?”
“I would have never grown up.” Sophy said.
“When I was in third grade, in the UK, a girl in my elementary school, was murdered,” I reveal.
“What?!” Anna says.
“Oh, my GOD!” Lisa gasps.
“Spill” Leong demands.
“Her name was Kennedy,” I begin, “She was in another class, I didn’t know her but I started to imagine that I’d known her. I’d think of her playing on the swings in a yellow dress, in daydreams and in nightmares.”
“I can see that,” Leong said.
“I was flummoxed, at the time, how a family could lose a little girl and a president.” I added.
Anna looked confused.
“I was in third grade,” I replied, ”what did I know?”
“Go ON,” Lisa prompts.
“We heard that she was walking home and got snatched,” I continued.
“Jesus,” Lisa said, shaking her head.
“Although I never walked home, I was careful not to be snatched for a while,” I summarized.
“I bet,” Anna agreed.
“That’s what I’d change,” I said, “Poor Kennedy.”
“People **** Lisa pronounced, and there was general agreement to that.
Apr 29, 2022
Apr 29, 2022 at 1:45 PM UTC
O to be loved without want or condition,
Cared for with utterly unfeigned conviction.
Despite dozens of duties he’d doubtfully done
Her love wouldn’t wane for her wizening son.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 12:06 AM UTC
my favorite poem was always her silence,
even after god stopped screaming & the cries from the tires screeching only occupied the ears of the young & the dead,
lovely to know that no matter what happens in this life, life will never give back,
as always i'm feeling stuck inbetween her mind & her heart, but never her thighs (& that was okay),
neither of us had loved each other to our full potential,
i was terrified, & for some oddly beautiful reason nothing could even make her flinch,
eventually the ocean will go bad, just like our hearts.
life doesn't owe you anything, it has no debt to you or your cold soul,
you have to believe my words when I tell you that I only feel sadness everytime I realize that her name has now just become an acronym & everything she once said to me was now drowning somewhere, in some ocean, screaming out someone else's name to help save her,
no, don't believe me,
no, don't believe anything I ever say (she never did).
reducing my bank account to the day of the month that she strangled my heart with her two bare hands, that way everytime I look at my bank funds I can feel the same type of struggle that my heart felt that very night,
evolution did her good, just like all the other boys between her thighs nowadays,
you only live once is the biggest lie to ever enter my ear drums; i've looked into her eyes & have spoken with demons that died thousands of years ago that still reside inside my sweet angel,
now my phone is crying for her call & the same goes for me,
only time can mend a deceased heart,
live alone & you will die with a thousand burdens that you wish you would have gotten off your chest, yet live for someone else & you will die with a thousand burdens that you wish you would have gotten off your chest,
doubtfully kiss my lips & you will finally, fully understand that she didn't take only my heart with her that night,
sporadically trying to find out if I could at least have my hands back; they might be a little burnt from all of the times I reached for her heart, but I miss the sting when trying to close my fists & the burn of her lips on them as she puckered up to the open wounds that she didn't even know she had created.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
Do you
Kurt Cobain
take Courtney Michelle Love
to be your lawful shredded wife?
I imagine her sitting across from him
Her lips stained a violent red
Smiling
She'd say what I say now
It didn't have to be this way
That's what's funny to me
Even afterwards she was composed
And maybe,
I don't know,
Maybe she was too full of ******* and hatred to really grasp it
But think of it this way:
Would anyone be capable of shooting up
and then shooting themselves?
Doubtfully
Do you
Kurt Cobain
take Courtney Michelle Love
to be your lawful shredded wife?
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
The band was loud, but in the other room and the bar was jammed.
He set his drink down a little too hard and it over-sloshed a bit.
“Run away with me,” he said, spreading his arms wide, “I’m done with school!”
“Well.. you graduated - that’s why you’re done,” she said, somewhat amused.
“We share a gravity, you and I - we’re.. we’re like aligned suns,” he romanticized.
“You should’ve majored in sales.” she said, sipping her own beer.
“Our love is so real, so raw - it's pure and yet - so street.”
“We have ‘love cred’?” She asked doubtfully.
“Wherever we go, we'll navigate that urban maze, hand in hand, we’ll OWN those concrete streets, we’ll paint our own graffiti!
“Have you snorted something?’
“No matter what life throws at us, we’ll face those challenges head-on and we'll stay united.”
“Have you been practicing this?” She asked
“We’ll swagger,” he said, “our love will be timeless..”
“And rhymeless,” she interjected hopefully.
“Together, we’ll be urban legends..” he continued.
“Like Bonnie and Clyde?” she asked, making a yuck face.
“We’ll be living art,” he said dreamily.
“Sounds dope.” She admitted.
“Then you’ll DO it?” He asked.
“Until Monday,” she said, nodding in assent, “classes start on Monday,” she shrugged.
“It was worth a shot.” he said stoically, after a moment.
“It was a good pitch,’” she said, taking his hand in hers.
“I didn’t oversell - I wasn’t too pushy?”
“No, you were right there,” she assured him.
“Maybe next time,” he said.
“Yeah, maybe next time”
They kissed.
Jul 27, 2023
Jul 27, 2023 at 1:07 PM UTC
Candles only crumple into themselves and melt, then harden went they're burnt out;
I can see myself the same because you lit matches to me that ignited more than the wick,
More and more, burning into the night just trying to guide the way and keep you warm.
Morning comes, the sun rises too, and with light you don't need a candle to show the way.
Day in and day out, you put me aside. But when the night came about and darkness fell upon your mind, casting shadows upon your heart, you were quick to light a match to me just one more time.
Burnt, hardened and gone; the cold winds from your breathy, diluted and icy moments of speak blew me out one last time.
I understand you don't need me, but please don't reach for me in the dark or light a match to a wick you once knew because you're cold and lost and can't find your way to someone else.
You once took all the light inside of me away; doubtfully so, but if you haven't lost the ways I'd light up your life, I suggest that you get to it because though you haven't, the ways you darkened mine have yet to be forgot.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 4:16 PM UTC
I am the ice sweating in the
midst of a surreal desert.
I rise as a wave in unbelievable
imagination of ravished lunatic.
A jingled chortle
of thundering sky,
a contemplating flower under bodhgay.
I am a mere rogue
tattering at the flowing time
in the ruined temple of life-
hearing the obscene truths sung by cracked skulls.
I sprout as a black cat in darkness
letting the reality to shudder
transcendentalising fantasy.
Sowing soul in the unlimited land of poetry
i water my emotion.
I am the silence of swaying lamp
the inevitable stream of its resonating music.
The songs sung by a million stars
the warm glow puffed by the moon
fills my soul with fluid of purity.
I am a pillar in a church
burnt by a ranting fire
punched by a vehement wind.
I vanish in the fugitive mist
varnish the blazing creature in oppressed slave heart.
I am the space between the doubtfully raised hand
of a poets pen tip,
i am his colorful idea
that has power to devastate the earth.
I howl with dogs
on my knees
in the streets letting everyone to watch my insanity
with uppity sarcasm, superciliously and pitying my senses.
I am a shrilly shriek articulated involuntarily
by a labor carrying 100KG weight,
cruelty of giggling pain in his heart.
I am the suppressed tear
screaming in a lovers eye
trembling tone
of last heart beat.
I am the idea of uncertainty
in Heisenberg's theory
i am that tone of Einstein's piano
which tugged the nerve
that can pronounce E=mc2.
A myriad universes flow in me
as i am smaller than an electron.
I am unbelievable
irrevocable
i am poet.
Sep 19, 2010
Sep 19, 2010 at 5:48 PM UTC
It's a cycle of repetition.
Mesmerizing a smile.
Falling for the eyes.
Having their voice echo in your head throughout the day.
You go through the phases, yet they don't.
Finishing a race, not realizing they have already quit.
As if they were the rabbit and you were the turtle,
doubtfully but entirely getting ahead.
Failing to notice that the break they took,
was a sugar coating way of splitting to a separation, forever.
Today's love is nothing of love.
Only empty promises and wandering souls floating in and out of others.
You wonder why they take your time as something so limitless.
The connection so quick and intense, that in the moment things seem okay,
but as the spark starts to die, you realize, it was nothing but a minor flame in a wild fire.
It was only, just a click.
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 9:22 PM UTC
The nun, plump, robed in a black
and white habit, walked across
the front of the class of girls.
Fay sat half way down on the left
next to the girl Millicent Sullivan
(whose aunt was a nun in Ireland).
"Immaculate Conception," the nun
said," what does it mean and to
whom does it refer?" The girls
stared at the nun whose two chins
wobbled as she spoke. Millicent
didn't raise her hand even though
she knew the answers, but put on
her innocent gaze. "Some of you
girls must know the answers,"
the nun said moodily. Fay raised
her hand and heads turned to look
at her. "Well, Fay?" She felt herself
blush and lowered her hand from
view. "It means one conceived
without blemish or sin," she said
in a soft voice. The nun stood up
to her full five foot frame. "And
what does conceived mean in this
context?" A few girls sniggered,
others gazed at Fay. The classroom
seemed to shrink to a white glow
containing just her and the nun.
"Not sure, Sister Luke," she said.
The nun gazed around the room.
"I am sure one of you girls know
the answer to this," Sister Luke said.
The girls just stared at the nun.
Millicent raised her hand and said:
"It means when the man's stuff
meets the woman's egg." Some
girls blushed, others looked puzzled.
"You have the idea. Now to whom
was it applied?" Sister Luke asked
staring at other girls. "The ****** Mary?"
A thin girl at the back of class replied doubtfully. Fay knew it was, but said
nothing more. The nun went on to
elaborate details. Fay was puzzled
by the man's stuff and egg. She
wondered if Benny knew. She would
ask him after school when she met
him on the way home. He knew
about things like battles and wars
and once kept a goldfish in a glass
bowl until he lost it down the sink.
He might know, she mused, she
didn't know otherwise what to think.
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 4:15 PM UTC
watch me -
i'll braid my pixie-short hair,
wear stars in my eyes and
dance like everyone's watching:
can't be done? i'll do it.
never been done? it has.
watch me -
i'll laugh at all the wrong things,
trip both ways on the stairs and
get up beaming:
i'll snag my hair into pretzel-braided crown around my merry face and i'll
spark my eyes at you when you look at me doubtfully.
watch me -
i'll rock what i rock
talk what i talk and walk how i walk:
swirl black into wings over my dark lashes and
my eyes will laugh underneath,
smile my wolfish smile with my one wonky back tooth,
and i'll blow you away.
watch me -
i have no idea what i'm doing,
and it's a hell of a thing
to see.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 5:32 PM UTC
Doubtfully, unoriginally unsure on the cliché subject of originality itself. Like music you’ve heard on the radio too much. Like the thing your lovers have cherished and you’re sick, sick, sick of it because it’s so **** old and un-fresh. Like aged socks.
Accept the illusory nature of your being and be a dingy **** Nobody will like you! Feint non-belief. Beastly ignorance. Ignorance is ignorance. Oh blissful ignorance. The happiness of brutes or of the happy? No victory, but is there failure? A fundamental losing out? In any case don’t take it too seriously.
To Strain your brain,
Strain your brain,
Strain your brain.
It’s all in good fun. Nature of the game. It goes on and on. The journey that counts.
Play for fun, fun fun.
Threes are there but who really cares?
Certainly not me.
Certainly not unoriginal.
It can’t all stem from the pool. Randomness is real and not and both. It’s inside us.
Do my words hold meaning? Give meaning? Does your brain? Or my brain? Them together?
Something else?
Coming to an end.
Don’t get too distracted.
Love is important. Because I said.
Love’s important. Unoriginal. Un-special. Nonetheless Grand.
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 4:22 PM UTC
On these sleepless cold nights I rant about you without having the slightest idea who you are
But tonight my foolish indecisive sorrows go out for you
Underrated,misunderstood,afflicted and most of all hurt. Your flaws allure me in what I call my own self-esteem. Everyone knows the overrated act you pull, however they're only aware of just that.
Yet, I know the barriers around you as much as
I know the reason why they were built.
I know why you're afraid of hanging on,
I know I know
Yes I know I'm the reason
The conflict
And I'll continue to be
To be faithfully honest I love how your vulnerability attracts me
This vivid relationship creates a void in my heart only you can mend and by the end ill doubtfully cope with everything
But tonight I love you and the way you stand so in your lonesome darkness
You are vital to me
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 2:49 AM UTC
*Our love was like a roller coaster with it's up's and down's
A spinning round circle we both got caught in.
The expectations were high in the beginning, but the thrill died when we reached the top and realized we did not share the same view.
Our love was a like roller coaster with it's up's and down's.
We felt like passengers in our seats, we felt one another constrained by our seat belts like we didn't want to be there and that the pretty lights that once attracted us there now blinded us.
Our love was like a roller coaster that ended with us getting off and both of us leaving what we thought was love, on that doubtfully safe, old metal seat to rust.*
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
your face screams flights of a dozen ships
your milky smooth skin, flower tulips in the spring
your lips are archers,makes a woman fling to
your right upper lip
the beauty mark doubtfully seen on a guy.
my thoughts have sprain my mattress
being funny and acting out a scene
in which i jump to your arms
you dip me in the depths of the air
and call it a scene.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC