"downside" poems
Of serene eyes that follow gently
the illicit pill she could not let go
it was heavy as the waters pulling her inside
serenading her with an estranged voice
coming from within —
her minimizing the desire to let it out
as the sun quiets down
and the gibbous moon exhibiting itself at night,
resisting the waves occurring —
as if it loathed her whole being
of her justness and the absence of these causes
her grieving and the sirens waltzing,
talking through an absentminded eye
eyeing her soul
finding love that seizes it
but hers were two feet and one mouth to breathe in
even in all shades of blue,
she can get a glimpse of the dark hue
illuminating the downside of the ocean
pulling her, wrecking her soul.
Redemption does not lie —
humoring her with plainly just truth
craving for the applause of the moon
only observing the depth of the ocean
eating the once alive soul
of her saving her last breath,
chiming in with the conversation, she
once had with him.
It could have been nice the resistance
he once had — to throw himself out
to the beauty of his light that shed
her whole body
he once was able to have
and he stayed there, eyed her the whole time
being eaten on the lonesome of the night
for he himself, shading all the blueness
like a requiem for the dreams
she kept on having
like a composition giving life
to new generations, he was still on
a token and a curse, and he let her be —
in all shades of blue.
Jul 11, 2022
Jul 11, 2022 at 5:21 AM UTC
You can assume what you want you're probably right
This is a never ending story
A special heart broke apart is the downside of favoritism
To live today with a awfully wedded wife
Can coincide with the upside to fablism
Can you stand up with or aside a revolution
It's still a time of movement
This is the start of a revolution
In the mind of a mover who constantly dreams of destruction
Fail or win
Now that's its over
You can become addicted to the fact that you want it back
Just that very dream or memory
Can leave you so high
That a skydiving crash would feel like a descent towards pillowed daffodils
Now histamines flare up
Now swollen about to pop
You've never been so high
The perfect quality to qualify the high you have
But quantity Is the one thing no one can grasp
Have none to share none
If you don't have it for yourself first
You can't give something you don't have enough for even yourself
This is the blank meaning for inspiration
For inspiring an unborn child
Maybe it's the missing meaning
Blank blank blank
It still means nothing when nothing is there
So why take this walk
Why write lines the continue to feel like nothing
Why scream on top of the mountain of the faintest echo won't reach the mightiest of ears hearing to tell the world of an achievement
That no one fortunately cares about
An empty sentient being
It's more interpersonal than that
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC
A bird in an aurulent billed mud-face,Living as a four foot two inch dragon in a San Franciscan cave,
Lifts off from a hot breathed murmur of Gideon.
Even in night the whole grandeur of movement
Soaking in red beeping heart-pangs
Fasten to the thrusts of his arms.
This post of vainglory was the opening of the year.
In July's open pores,
On a spatial plateau of Dodonian oak.
The Penguin
Unveils his weakened voice.
Flattening into a wide arrow
Draped from Carina he
Sails Westward. Barefooted through the Anavros
Molting under deep helplessness and melancholia.
With his inlaid eyes faced askance
The penguin broods
Among the day's songs
Cast into the poetry of the lyre,
Stretched upwards from Paradise Bay to Colchis,
Where his ebony wings
Soak into the palms of Peleus
Suffering only where the arrows have flung.
Downside up, with children in a pocket of blood,
Among supergigantic siren songs and muse poems
Sewing teeth into a spot of Earth
Races towards a column of toppling strakes.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:48 AM UTC
So, up to Liverpool,
pretty cool,
I've got family there, and I'm trying to find my bearings.
When I was a kid I went with my Auntie to the Adelphi Hotel,
I remember it well,
so that's where I'll start, move my feet,
it's a quick walk to Bold Street.
Everyone flocks to the Albert Docks,
regenerated, updated, and has created a vibrant corner of a once-thriving port city,
which is pleasing,
the only downside is it's ****** freezing!
The nights out are decent too,
this where Liverpool really pulls through.
Matthews Street, can't be beat,
or Concert Square,
where, you head to Baa Bar for some shots and a few jars.
Then onto Nation with the rest of Liverpool's student population,
going down to Wolstenholme Square,
great memories, shame it's no longer there.
Capital of Culture, lots to explore,
the council wants to restore the city centre,
Liverpool One is second to none.
New shops to buy our Fred Perry tops,
new bars to entertain us,
new places to wear our smart Adidas trainers.
A modern shopping centre to walk through,
have they really called it Everton Two?
Girls off to the supermarket with their hair up in rollers and wearing their PJ's,
funny looks on the face of people who are new to the place.
Lads in black Lacoste trackies,
in the 1980s they came back from the continent after European success,
wearing Fila and Ellesse,
it was called casual,
the style went national.
A city of myths legends,
some more tongue in cheek but still unique.
A sock robber from Kirkby,
is it the original Cavern Club? Well, to a degree.
What about Carragher's tattoo?
He's blue born and bred,
is Paul McCartney actually dead?
I know it's a clichè, but I must say,
it isn't a mere rumour,
there is undoubtedly a Scouse sense of humour,
wordplay and the inflexion on the things they say.
A witty city that's for sure, come and visit,
you'll have everything you need and more.
May 6, 2020
May 6, 2020 at 12:45 PM UTC
When I wear makeup
I feel unstoppable
courageous
beautiful.
so beautiful.
but I don't mean regular makeup,
mascara lipstick eyeliner blush etc,
I mean the kind that takes hours to apply,
transforming myself into hit characters
ghastly ghouls
alien creatures
minotaurs
ziggy stardust
I mean painting myself
with all the theatricality I can afford.
I feel like I can breath when I wear my makeup,
I feel okay and calm and like nothing can touch me
above all else I feel safe.
so safe
with that paint,
everybody's looking at the makeup
instead of me,
they admire and compliment the mask I've crafted
and it makes me happy to know
they can't see my plain pale face underneath,
the outrageous conception
has formed a shield
allowing me to step out in public
without being afraid to exist.
when I wear my makeup
I'm allowed to be whomever I please
and mingle-talk freely with all I want,
my makeup lets me be like everyone else.
The only downside is that not every week is spirit week,
my gentle skin is too irritated by even the most
hyper-allergenic makeup and acne protrudes
and at the end of it all I still have to wash it off,
watch my happy colors go down the sink drain,
the mask doesn't last forever,
and I'm left standing there the next day,
without my makeup
without my shield
and I feel so naked,
I feel incomplete and scared.
I wish every week was spirit week,
and that my skin was tough,
so that I could paint my face every day
so I wouldn't have to be afraid.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 7:37 PM UTC
I know it may sting at first
After all, it took a long time for me to leave you
Even though I wasn't involved with you on a physical level
Emotionally that was a different story.
The way I kept holding onto you resembled a vine that was in tangled with itself
Mixed with red roses
In addition to the feeling of trying to let you go
When I attempted to time and time again
It proved to be nothing and no use as one would say.
I did try to detach from you.
I tried and tried.
Until the roses poked me
Endlessly with the thorns
So then I gave up
Let the thorns stay.
And questioned why it was so hard to let go
Maybe that's when the roses fell off me & the thorns took a long time to dissolve into the truth that is our past.
But when I'm healed, I know you'll be tempted to find me again and love me in the only way you know how.
Soft at first then making me question why I left you
But I already know my answer.
If you didn't realize what you had in the first place
Then don't question why I hold you at arm's length.
I'm the girl who you lose in your life to make you realize what you had and that you should've cherished the first time around rather than finally realizing it after I've already left you.
- The one who leaves
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 4:52 PM UTC
I think, at least some of us, fall in love instantly without even knowing it. And the time between then and the point where we actually admit it to ourselves, is more about acceptance, either social or personal, of how long it should take to "get there".
How else would you explain that once you know you're in love with someone its almost impossible to remember a time when you weren't in love with them.
The downside of this theory is that should things not work out, its so god **** ******* hard to get back to a time before, a time when you weren't in love with them.
And maybe we never do. Maybe we never fully recover.
Initially it's the immediate changes that carry the most pain. No morning greetings on your phone, no shared nonsense during the day, the kind of nonsense only couples share, the empty bed... the feeling of once again being alone.
In time though those moments get forgotten, or at least replaced by new routines that help avoid them until enough of the pieces are back together that they don't hurt anymore. You no longer have to fight the urge to say good morning the moment you wake up; going for coffee no longer feels like an inside joke you have to share; going to sleep is no longer something that follows a two hour phone call.
But the bigger stuff, the truly great memories, they never go away. We find ourselves looking back on them with fondness, for comfort, proof that it did happen, that we were once that happy, that for a while at least we felt like we had it all. And sometimes we'll know why it ended and sometimes we wont; and as frustrating as either of these scenarios are, we'll accept that it doesn't really matter.
As long as we get to keep those moments.
It's those moments that make me question whether or not we ever truly stop loving someone. No matter how hurt we feel, no matter how much we feel they hurt us, deep down, if we're honest, we all have those moments, even for those who hurt us most. Sure they could be hidden behind bitterness, buried under blame, locked up behind the walls we let ourselves build as some kind of protection, but they're still there.
You're all still there.
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 11:41 AM UTC
Let’s go to an antimatter universe
Where hot ice solidifies
Under the black light of the freezing sun.
A world where short giraffes hide beneath
The tall grass, amongst low trees.
See those high plains, watery deserts and low mountains.
Slow flies crawl over red skies
As turtles and tortoises speed around.
Here, hot sun is an oxymoron
And everything is downside up.
Or if you prefer we could visit a realm
Like on “Red Dwarf”
Where time flies backwards:
People formed from dusty death
To live and grow youthful
On the way to an inevitable birth
And death again
When parental **** parts from *****
Paul Butters
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 4:50 AM UTC
So, this is what I get for liking you on Facebook
and following you on Twitter. No wonder
we're not Linkdin or Googled plussed.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 10:16 AM UTC
I ate the poison with you.
I fell right beside you
And I helped you get back up.
I kissed your scraped knees
In the ghosts of your mothers lips
But I was your friend.
I resuscitated your heart
When you stopped it from beating
I drank your tears
And cried them myself.
I cared;
I never once pricked you
With the same needle
The world persistently penetrated
You with
And I would have
****** out the venom
From those snake bites
If you’d asked me to,
Knowing that you’d never
Take that bullet for me,
Even if I asked you to.
But I still jumped into the fire
To make sure you got out
Alive.
And somehow
You thought you were alone.
And somehow I ended up
In front of the gun
And you had no problem
Pulling the trigger.
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 9:04 PM UTC
Somewhere there exists a girl.
She is kind, and soft, and sweet,
And a reader, a lover of books.
She would read every one if she could
People say she looks just like her mother.
She doesn't know what to think.
Some place in the world there is a boy.
He is shy, and peaceful, and small,
He is adventurous, dreaming of planets unknown.
He would wander the galaxy forever,
Trailing after him stardust and clouds.
Nobody notices him.
Connecting them is one person.
They are creative, and caring, and bright.
Protective of the people they love,
Even if those people overlook them.
They feel too small to make a difference.
They want to find a purpose.
Three people, so very much alike.
Simalar in so many ways, yet still different,
Each unique in their own right.
All existing on the same Earth.
Seperate, but never apart.
They like being themselves and each other.
The only downside to their lives,
Is that that have to exist together,
Stuck in the same body, unable to change.
Each wishing to fit their own mold.
But they can't leave each other.
Sometimes the Girl in control.
She is the happiest of them,
She loves her body, which amazingly
Fits her, like the perfect glove.
She wished to make the others just as happy.
The In Between doesn't hate their body.
They like how soft they look some days
Like when they can look in between.
But they still feel wrong sometimes.
They don't feel like they can complain.
The Boy has it much worse than them.
When he has control his body is wrong,
The opposite of what he need to exist.
He deals with his problem though.
He binds his chest and wears button ups.
But that doesnt make it right.
Nobody knows that they share.
Most people are content being one thing.
With having a solid identity.
But it wasn't their fault, it is how they are made.
They didn't ask to be a river.
But they still follow the tides.
They wouldn't change who they are.
They get along fine with each aspect of themself
Compensating, trying to feel whole.
They have tricks to help them feel right.
But perfection doesn't exist.
Dysphoria comes as a storm.
Turing the river into a rushing waterfall,
Full of doubt and self-loathing.
Certain things help calm the storm,
But sometimes it just keeps raining.
They push through the floods
Of anxiety and doubt and fear.
Giving themself a bowtie for the Boy,
A beanie for the In Between,
A skirt for the Girl.
They persist.
And they live.
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 6:25 AM UTC
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Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 1:26 AM UTC
In side you!
Outside you!
Upside you!
Are downside you?
Where everyone trodden....!
by a few....!
Here and there! Everywhere you!
Who are you?
You for all!
All for you!
Is it fair? everywhere you!
Where Am I?
Who am I?
Here and there! Everywhere you!
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 9:15 AM UTC
And doubts have dashed
And murmurs gone
And frowns have turned downside up
To smiles
And heart
And laughter
And newfound friends
And applause
And gratitude
As miles of
Blood
Sweat
Time
Heart
Mind
Hard work
Have rewarded the sweetest
Not of gold but of
a musical gift
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 12:18 PM UTC
Downside up
In relevant confusion
Awakening in a slanted dream
It seems
Everything rhymes with orange
And you love me
SIDEWAYS EIGHT
More times than I love you
Broken mirrors
Are nothing but good luck
Four leaf clovers
And run for the hills
It seems
Everything rhymes with month
And I love you
Just not in that way
So you COLON, OPEN PARENTHESES
More than me
The moon's intense heat
Lights the day
While rain falls
From the grass to the clouds
It seems
Everything rhymes with wolf
And when I rejected you
You COLON, APOSTROPHE, OPEN PARENTHESESED
A little
Spiders are mans best friend
Children sleep with darkeners
In fear of light
And fairytale princesses
It seems
Everything rhymes with purple
And I feel sorry
That you love me
Leaving me with a COLON, SLASH
The stars are my only enemy
Crying at night brings me joy
And I cut myself
Because I desperately want to live
It seems
Everything rhymes with rhythm
And it's my fault
That your LESS THAN SIGN, SLASH, THREE
…
Sleeping into reality
Falling out of mirages
With a
DASH, UNDERSCORE, DASH
Look on my face
It seems
Nothing rhymes with orange.
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 10:10 AM UTC
Riding on the Metro Bus, I noticed a girl with a tattoo on her temple that says L.A.
why would she want to promote this place?
I'm crying next to a street light and a man...
no not a man....
an animal....
mistakes me for a ********** and offers me 100 dollars for a blow job.
Anger and fear have a way of making one run like a cheetah,
I admired my legs, the way they effortlessly glide away from danger and death.
****** hiding in every nook and if you're lucky,
you might run into a needle.
Hot in the day and cold at night just like the people.
But on the upside... Marijuana is legal.
The downside is the degradation of the soul
that is acceptable here because a girl needs to eat
and an animal needs a quick fix.
This one demon said: you're never going to make it.
You're too young and naive and not willing to bleed.
I scratched my leg so hard while he was speaking
that blood starting pouring out of me.
I didn't say **** you because I would never sacrifice my body
to this poor excuse of a human being, even in language.
Instead I slipped out of his house while he was in the bathroom
like a one night stand.
Los Angeles taught me that in this society, I am just a body.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 1:06 AM UTC
Abomunist poetry
in order to be
completely understood
should be eaten…
-except on fast days,
slow days, and
mornings of executions.
Abomunist Goldilocks
eats the 3 bears.
But the porridge gets her
in the end. It is just right.
Abomunists read pictures
Downside
skewed
to their children.
Abomunists sing
south by southeast,
but fly Southwest
through time.
Abomunists adore a vacuum
so they fill it
with Abomunable gifts
like chicken seeds
and rose guts,
and the vacuum fills.
Abomunists abhor a vacuum.
That vacuum said rude things about your mother.
Abomunists have no mothers
and hang around streetcorners
shaking the lights until they go out.
Abomunists are obliged
to change the bulbs once
they die and continue shaking.
Abomunists encourage
police brutality
and are cheeky
motherless ********
Abomunists go
hand in mouth.
Abomunists go
go go go go.
Always go.
Abomunists vote to
abolish
red lights.
Abomunists ride hydrogen
bombs to work.
Abomunists go to
bullet heaven.
Abomunists slay the dragon
only on Tuesday,
but chase him
through the ***** den.
Abomunists lick cold poles.
And pull their tongue
out sometimes.
Abomunists
cry to Billboard
revelations in Coca-Cola
and lingerie.
Abomunists listen
to the bottom 40 hits.
And drink the middle classics.
Abomunists drain
their cups
and never ask for more.
They just take it.
Abomunists scream hoarse
and horse
and pony
and the rattlesnake
guttural hissing
serpentine buzzing
bees. You wouldn’t understand.
Abomunists elect
their drones and
the queen eats all
the honey.
Abomunists run
from office
and hold sway from
cardboard towers.
Abomunists are bad
architects and they
fall from grace
- so to speak.
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 8:35 AM UTC
My old Kentucky home
Is a cold unlucky tomb
I live in between the trees
And those that say freeze
I'm down on my knees
As I beg and plead
I try to talk to a world disconnected
And discuss the problems I've detected
Instead I end up feeling dejected
In a state deemed defective
I feel rejected
A downside to living in the Kentucky wilderness
Is hearing animals dying in the distance
And there's nothing I can do about it
Critters whimpering and bones snapping
Barrels simmering and bullets capping
I hear it on the news
Or hear it in the woods
Beasts biting into the weak
******** exploiting the meek
They use their teeth
To play hide and seek
Under the luminous full moon
I hear the death of raccoons
These are the sounds
To which I'm bound
And when I think I've lost them
I start to hear possums
Which engenders fear
Like the mangled deer
Lying on the side of the road
Dead to a world it never knew
And its curiosity never grew
Until a car didn't mind driving through
We should pay attention to one another's problems
Even if we can't solve them
Even if it's painful
It should be our main goal
In a world that's being gloabalized
Location is beginning to matter less
Unless you live where a bomb is being dropped
Then it's up to those that live within crops
To pick up a mop
And help clean up this mess
Which is a lofty task I confess
But I live in a society
That determines the emotions inside of me
So instead of giving up and saying **** me
I'll do the best I can from Kentucky
Dec 8, 2017
Dec 8, 2017 at 9:13 AM UTC
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Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 7:25 AM UTC
Black ink squirted in my eye,
Too close as he passed by,
Crusty barnacles, reachin' up and out,
Scratch my beluga belly,
swimming distracted,
always on demand,
dump me in the deep end of the ocean,
off of dry land,
Is the only solution, IF
you put me in a bind, with chains and anchors,
then I could escape the twenty four hour me, baby.
©ClemC072013
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 2:02 AM UTC
Tasting poisons a friend recommends
Saying that it's a must
While this liquid crumbles my insides and turns them all to dust
As my trust dwindles from the word
The word that brings tears to my eyes
The word they call gift, that is actually curse
And a word that I've come to despise
Look within and see an ending, a note that says simply "no"
Watch sorrow leak out till I am hardened inside
And see in this dust that hatred grows
And flows, and grieves, and rages, and bleeds,
And scream that I am so tired
That my light is dim, I'm hanging by a thread, and doused is my fire
Yet here I stand with poison in hand and all the world demands
So with bottle in hand I drink
Believing this chase will bring an end to this race, and try to change the way I think
And here's a toast to worries and woes
And the "will she call" and the "will she care" and the "why do I?"
And again and again and again, I come in, yet no blue comes to these skies
Till I'm dead. Hardened. Fearful. Angry
A shell of the man I once was
The pushing and shoving of a conforming world leaving me hollow because
Love is poison, make no mistake
Love is a poison from which we all wish to dine
And the more ill we get, with problems and frets, the more we drink and in time..
We as we once knew ourselves... are gone.
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 4:00 PM UTC
I've read the news, and it's red
with painted lip prints, and the stain
of stranger thumbprints. They're not
mine. Neither of them. They belong,
lip and thumb, paint and stranger,
singularly to those others who don't
read or write such things. They may
bleed, them, but the blood isn't red,
or crimson, or cardinal, or scarlet.
Pick a shade of red, and it isn't that,
at least not until it's too, too late
to stanch. The bully's standard is to take
it all, all of it except the fall crisp that led
into this strangely warmer winter. I took it,
and I saved it in my bones to prepare,
but the cold didn't come. Not like we
were used to. I'm told the bully wears
what he takes with a dashing style. See it,
that royal blue that outfits him? The flowing
robes? The gold. I've been robbed. We have
been. Not of things, but of a view. A view
with no room for us in its downside-up
very periscope-unlike perspective.
There's no upside to the up-down
and just around the corner trips
I take. To the grocer. To the bar. To
the five and dime. It's fattened up
to a dollar. And the slimming newsprint
costs more than what I get
without the paper. I don't
get it, not the print, not the paper, not
the red lip prints, not the thumbprints
left by strangers, not the news
I've read and I'm reading.
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 6:25 PM UTC
The downside
of falling in love
with people
who make you feel
sparks
and fireworks
in your heart
comes
when they leave you
with nothing but
ashes and smoke.
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 10:48 AM UTC
Twisting
Slithering
A never-ending chaotic morass
Winding through
No sooner does the light of dawn bleed over the horizon
Than the shadowy form of dread
Eclipses and quenches the fledgling beam
Waging a constant battle
Darkness always seemingly victorious
or...
Ba da da ba
Juxtapose the extremities
Daddy-o
The slicker downs a bottle of rye
Hits the open road in a beat up coupe
Off to see that daring young man
On the flying trapezoid
Zoom - zap - yowza
Upside
Downside
Thru the water
Ellipsis!!
Awakening
Comes
Slowly
But
Inevitably
Like
the inexorable process
Of
continental d r i f t
Self-awareness
Dawns upon the unsuspecting soul
Crashing down
Edifice of substance
No more.
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 10:46 AM UTC
People are gentle when their hearts are broken
The people who are the meanest to themselves
Are the people who are the kindest to others
I never hurt anyone when I was in pain
I'm sorry for healing
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 1:44 PM UTC