"dramas" poems
*coffees are my one-way ticket to contemplation–
to realizations and dramas
it shapes my eyes
to view life like a panorama
coffee makes me think
about the world,
the people
and both combined
coffee connects me to the crowd
to their lives,
mishaps
sometimes shared with mine
coffee gates to different events and realities
it awakens wishful thinking
and kicks curiosities
coffee, summed up
is a friend
of all those who've got their heads in their *****
it is a guru of life
love,
and other life experiences
a.t.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 6:05 PM UTC
The punitive silences,
the bad atmosphere they generate,
the mind-games they use to try to **** you in
are telltale signs of the toxic person.
It could be your in-laws, a parent, coworker, your boss or spouse,
a sibling, a roommate, boyfriend or girlfriend,
someone you want out of the house.
Toxic people want to make you miserable.
Especially if you're a decent sort, they hone in on you like a heat-seeking missile.
They spew their negativity and blame it on you.
They lie constantly, or twist the facts to suit their changing needs of the moment
and they never apologize (so don't expect an apology, ever).
With a toxic person there is no reciprocity.
They sprinkle their toxic dust on you. It makes them feel better.
Their ulterior goal is to demean you, to make you feel smaller.
They project their worst tendencies onto you,
find fault with you for traits you don't possess---
a shadow of the **** that lurks inside them.
They try to dictate the emotional atmosphere
through their attitude or twisted mood.
They drain you of your energy, bring you down,
They'll always find a reason why your good news isn't great news.
Their agenda is to cut you down to their size,
to manipulate and control
to **** you over while they play the injured party.
Confront the bully. Speak up to the manipulator, the trickster, the backstabber.
but beyond a certain point
there is no point in arguing with them.
Don't try to change the toxic person. You can't.
You'd have better luck changing an orangutan into **** sapiens.
Only a shrink could change them, and then only if they hit rock-bottom.
Don't try to justify yourself. It's a waste of time which would only draw you deeper into their net.
Set boundaries to keep their negativity in check.
Stop trying to please them.
Let that toxic somebody in your life know you're onto them
and they can't get away with it anymore.
Don't fall into their trap, don't get caught up in their life-dramas
or try to get them out of trouble. Don't let them instill guilt in you.
But try not to take their toxicity personally.
Remember, it's them, not you. You are not to blame
though they desperately want you to feel you've done something wrong.
If necessary (and if possible), delete the toxic person from your life and move on.
Know when enough is enough.
Saying good riddance doesn't necessarily mean you hate them, it means
your own well-being comes first.
Immunize yourself. Preserve your inner strength.
Set your own rules.
And, when possible, just walk away.
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 2:23 AM UTC
New Year's Day 1:16 AM
and my body is weary beyond
time to withdraw and rest
ample room allowed me in everyone's head
but community calls
right over the threshold
drums beating through the walls
children playing their truck dramas
under the collapsible coatrack
in the narrow hallway outside my room
The TV lounge next door is wide open
it is midnight in Idaho
and the throb easy subtle spin
of the electric slide boogie
step-stepping
around the corner of the parlor
past the sweet clink
of dining room glasses
and the edged aroma of slightly overdone
dutch-apple pie
all laced together
with the rich dark laughter
of Gloria
and her higher-octave sisters
How hard it is to sleep
in the middle of life.
10.8k
Clicketyclick —
sickly screens,
shooting
sixty
picture-frames
per second
Tickety ticktock, rapid-fire
photon cannons,
ripping holes
through our
faces
rectangles,
riddled with anxiety ridden
read scripts
the resultant
retinal scarring
Wicketywicked, weary eyes,
dripping with serrated pixels
triple dotted,
typing-awareness indicators
create silly suspenses,
inducing temporal
dramas,
emotional
micro-traumas
every second a slice
through my,
now practically nonexistent,
patience
Am I a server,
or am I a servant?
Eyes, sunken, with
withered skin
I'm waiting for my fix
Ding-ding
Bloop!
Pinggg
Here comes the dopamine! —
—Clicketyclick
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 12:47 PM UTC
Yes, there is football again today,
The melodrama in the usual way,
Like ancient dramas, the crowds,
The roars and chorus, free kicks allowed!
His team are losing again,
Do they have a winning vein?
Television the negative conduit,
He enjoys being sad, leave him to it!
Find something else to do in another room,
Yes, chicks can have crafternoon,
That's craft and reading for me and you,
Just throw chocolate at him and zoom!]
Why? It's a football afternoon!
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 7:48 PM UTC
Face after face after face,
they stare out at me.
I look into eyes
full of hope and pain,
fear and courage,
longing and loneliness,
and the faces,
the voices,
the yearning
are all my own.
How are we to find
the one who is looking
for us,
with that unique blend
of terror and anticipation
that makes us
their "perfect match?"
We each want to
change our subscription
to the romance channel.
No more docu-dramas,
please!
So much history,
so many angry
silent nights
The full moon mocking,
cold and distant.
Please care.
Talk to me.
Hold my hand--
Dance with me!
Be fun!
Make me laugh--
Don't hurt me.
Please,
don't hurt me!
We smile bravely for the camera,
affecting a nonchalance
that is gone forever,
and we show our friends that
we have recovered--
the surgery was completely successful!
See?
The scar is barely visible,
true.
But tell me honestly,
can you really feel life Now,
through the scar tissue of
Then?
Dec 25, 2010
Dec 25, 2010 at 3:05 PM UTC
Korean fashion experts have shared their know-how with Malaysia.
At the "K-Fashion Conference for Malaysia" in Kuala Lumpur on Feb. 16, a group of Korean professionals gave lectures under the topics "K-Fashion Design Trend Transition & Forecast," "Digital & Online Marketing Strategies," "Power Brand and Concept Development Strategies" and "How to enter the global market."
The Korea Fashion Association, the Malaysia External Trade Development Corporation (MATRADE) and the ASEAN-Korea Centre organized the event to strengthen the competitiveness of Malaysian fashion brands by improving the added value of the industry through brand development.
About 50 Malaysian fashion industry companies and related government officials attended.
"There is growing interest in K-fashion, along with the high popularity of Korean dramas and entertainment shows, making this workshop even more timely and meaningful," ASEAN-Korea Centre Secretary General Kim Young-sun said. "The Malaysian fashion industry has huge potential as it is currently ranked in the top five in the ASEAN fashion industry."
On Feb. 15 and 17, Korean experts visited local fashion merchandisers for market research and consultations.
According to the ASEAN-Korea Centre, the Malaysian fashion industry has had massive growth with the expansion of Islamic fashion markets.
MATRADE aims to boost the industry as the nation's leading exporter. It has been organizing Malaysia Fashion Week (MFW) since 2014 to make the capital a fashion destination in Asia.
The second MFW in 2015 featured designers from more than 15 countries, and over 300 booths showcased the quality products of Malaysian fashion brands to the domestic and foreign trade, accodring to the organization.
The ASEAN-Korea Centre is an intergovernmental organization established in 2009 with an aim to promote exchanges among Korea and the 10 ASEAN member states.Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 4:12 AM UTC
Sometimes I have nothing to write
and I wait for months and months
to pass only to find within time--
I'm still lonely.
Lonely can be so cruel
like solitary confinement
right behind your eyelids
and the sleep you can't awake
rests upon your fate,
you better wake the **** up
before it's too late.
Wake up.
Wake up. Wake up.
My therapist said
something is wrong with my head.
He found a word to describe me,
I never knew I wasn't like me.
Just a piece in a text book...
To describe my whole life.
All the series of traumas,
the abuse and dramas,
patterns and thoughts,
just to be boxed up...
I am not special.
I am nothing great.
But I dont care,
I refuse to ******* cave
into my demise.
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 5:47 PM UTC
With the house they are selling their childhood and adolescence, five funny brothers and grandmother's sweets, late night dramas and the unattractive maids they inherited, cigarettes they puffed secretly and lessons they learned with jackfruit pulp. Now the roots are being pulled and I wonder what'll be left. I wish people live there, generations come and play on its front yard and I hope my ancestors understand new generation urbanism and modernity.
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 8:02 AM UTC
i am afraid we have begun to dissociate,
unable to dissolve, I dissipate
we lavish emotion, laugh laudably
and cry with our larynx ripped out of our throats
i just need a little attention
'cause it's midday
and the midwife has a migraine,
with spoiled milk and clogged drains,
laundry a mile-long with tenuous children
tense with grimace and gray
we believe uncertainty for the hopeless and expectations for the great
the subtle hum
followed by slithering smirks
followed by snarls and sneers and weird sober
social experiments,
followed by small town dramas
and big time hypocrites.
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 1:07 PM UTC
You can’t tell
How much fakeness in this world
Fake souls
Walking like deadly zombies
You can’t see it
Until it shows everything in front of you
For the right time and moment
When you realize that people have masks
And you don’t know which one to trust
They hide their ugly truth
From the public eye
Fake smiles
The creation of dramas
Start with them
Just to live the lies
That they put around
Their poison words
It will effects your mind
The true colors will show soon
It will effects their skin
Just like a chameleon
Wonders of life
Trying to survive the fakeness
You can’t read them
Until they show it
Music is the only real friend
That you trust
It keeps you real all the time
No matter what life gives you
It will be there for you
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 1:34 AM UTC
****** thought it was a concept novel.
But wrong he was.
India knew Blitzkrieg long before ******
In ancient dramas like Mahabharata,
And of course the older Ramayana,
The epics are replete with incidents,
Or rather determining acts of battle,
That determined the course of time,
Armies attacked the relaxing armies,
Changed the outcome of war.
So was the ancient Indian ideology.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
.
The oceans are dying,
Coral reefs are bleached,
Ghostly acidic in the seas,
Climate is changing, not for Nero,
But for subjects who wait in whirlwinds
Eye, underneath uncapped mountain peaks,
And water is draining underground. Where is
Reason, where is sense uncommon? Not with
Elected hands who are wringing to lords of zero,
Whose legions are sent off, engaged in foreign wars,
To scathe, faraway dramas brought back home,
Politicians squabble, as they reel, cashing in,
Seals of unapprovals, witness hollow, low rings,
Infrastructure crumbles, above our dry heads,
And Nero plays his fiddle, in a land of perky dead,
John Lennon said NYC was in reality the new
Rome, soon set to burn, in a decade or so,
Nero knows, Nero plays, could give a feck'
Humanity is Nero playing his fiery fiddle
There is only one issue of news that matters,
Not bread, or circus, Kardashians, or deflated
Footballs, it is our survival, the earth, heating up,
Is angry and we are small, deaf, blind and numb,
A mankind of fools with Nero playing his fiddle.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC
I think
My tolerance for ********
Has reached its breaking point.
Now I spend my lunch hours
Squirreled away in the smoking room
Lost in tunes
Locked in with my thoughts
Scarfing down
One cigarette after another
And writing these ****** poems.
I don't care to hear
About the inanities of your sad lives.
It's all so bleak.
I feel most alone in a crowd.
I suppose
We all have our ways
Of coping
With the affliction of life.
Many seek refuge
In the mindless chatter of sheep
Others find their release
Balls-deep in a wet hole
Or tasting blood and sweat
In the boxing ring
Or the warm, comforting embrace
Of alcohol.
Such blissful escape, all of them.
So what's wrong
With the hallowed cloisters
Of my mind?
**** the lot of you
With your petty dramas
******* hypocrisies
******* noises
Summoning up
The vilest contempt
Slumbering in me.
I am enough.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 1:08 AM UTC
Caught in the middle of lies, drama, and tears
You expect me to side with her
He's my friend too
She doesn't always tell the truth
I can't say yes or no
Or disagree or agree
Until I have all the facts
But you demand my loyalty to her
You demand me to forget about
The demons inside of me
Threatening to choke me, to grab hold of my mind and shake it up and let it explode like a shaken up coke bottle
You expect me to tell you all the deats
With a smile on my face, choosing your side
Don't force me to choose
Don't force me to agree
For if I choose against you, you think I am against YOU
And if I disagree with you, you think I disagree with YOU
You think I am disrespectful and indifferent
I'm not super excited to talk about the dramas of our family
When I am living in a hell, from time to time
When I am in a dark hole, slowly falling away into the abyss of my mind
You say, You don't have to be so secret all the time
I say, When I tell you what's really going on, you think I'm making stuff up
You expect perfection out of me and when I mess up, which I do all the time,
It is a big deal and I am the worst child in the world
At least Dad is being forgiving and our wounded souls are being healed
We're reaching out more towards one another
And not causing more negativity in our lives
Any future negativity is blamed on me
Because I'm so negative ALL THE TIME
What a lie
You don't see that the negativity is here all the time, I FEEL it ALL THE TIME
You're either too blind or too afraid to see
That you cause much of the negativity
Not all, but most
Life is screwy, life is a mess
But it is also beautiful and worth living for
But too often than not
I get caught in the middle of it all
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 5:59 PM UTC
The fair buildings that have seen the yester-years
bask in twilight.
Generations of footsteps and handprints
have worn and wrinkled them.
The wisen walls have overheard conversations
both whispered in confidence and declared in boldness,
and the floors have long absorbed
the tears, blood and sweat of characters
in their own private dramas
played out within these walls.
You and I will never see what the buildings have watched,
hear what they’ve listened to
all those years –
the stories each brick and mortar holds in secret.
And twilights and days will pass
till the impending moment comes, when,
along with concrete pounded into dusts,
gone will be these flickers of images,
the memories of these fleeting lives,
buried,
like tapes and film rolls burned
by the progress of time.
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 7:57 AM UTC
Stop blaming the world,
For all your problems,
You always seem to curl the truth.
Oh your having a bad day,
I am sorry,
Did your boyfriend leave you again?
Oh wait I know it,
People stop listening to what you say.
Always have to be in the spotlight,
Talk about dramas as if your life is hard,
You have got everything,
So get over your self.
**** my life" is your Facebook status,
But all you want is people to ask
"Are you okay?".
When really your just pathetic,
There is no amount of hairspray,
In the world to solve your selfishness.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 3:23 AM UTC
last night i had a nightmare
your car backed up to and through my front door
dumping broken computers and monitors and machines in my yard
dumping out your trash at my mother's doorstep
like you did to me
(you tell them i left, but we both know your cold eyes pushed me)
last night i had a nightmare
i walked into my darkened room and a man fraught with danger and uneasiness left his breakfast dishes on my bedspread.
my mother did not hear my screams of concern, as to why, why a man of such disgust had chosen my bedroom to have his breakfast eggs.
the ketchup and stray pepper he left on my pillow was a violation like hands between clenched thighs
when i woke up this morning,
i wanted to cry.
my (enter degree here) doctor slipped me slight pills of green and brown, guaranteed to rid me of these visions, these haunts that grip me like dramas played out in technicolor across my eyelids.
now i take two under the tongue, caught between a lover's fingertips.
i wake up having lost and died only moments before.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 7:33 PM UTC
I get distracted by little things
It looks like I’m hunting love
I know I want Love
But then I get distracted by simple momentary things
I know who I am supposed to ask out on a date
But, seems easier to ask someone else
Because I’m too scared to fall for that person
And get “we’re just friends” as a response.
“Hey I love you why you telling me your dramas about the guys you like but end up lying and hurting you?”
I think
But I never say
I just listen
“Don’t be fooled” I say
“I won’t” she says
Weeks later she telling me the same old stories
“Try me”
I think
But I never say
“What if she is telling me to ask her to be mine? What is she thinking?”
I think to myself
Gosh, I wish I wasn’t too scared to lose you as a friend
I wish you knew I mean it when I say I missed you every time I see you after two, four or eight months
I wish you were mine
Just mine
I fantasize about the things we could be doing if we were together
Then I remember what we had
Were we too fast?
Was it a perfect thing on a bad time?
I don’t know, but
I loved every little moment
I told her she’s one of the best things that ever happened in my life
I meant it
When did we **** this up?
When did we become just friends?
Am I in love?
How can I win her back?
(to be continued)
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 3:28 PM UTC
When CNN monotony breaks my heart,
children wail for candy at cash registers,
and traffic buzz replaces birdsong,
I flee to my garden to water and ****
Sanctuary explodes in miniature chorales
soprano buds breaking through cellulose cradles
last waters from a thousand wilting blossoms
sing tenor at their organic wake above the loam
and endless pneumatic streams drip from leaf tips
as they always have and will.
A googolplex of minute carbon dramas occurs
melodious ballads echo relentlessly
like Buddha’s kalapas of soil and light
as pistil and stamen call the fat brown bees.
Equally marvelous are my hands'
deft fingers fueled by arterial rivers
lymph and blood on capillaric freeways
with off-ramps for neighborhoods of dividing cells
built into my DNA,
this machine of loving grace.
Even the leather of my gloves
once lived thick on a bull eating grass
that waved on a prairie where the soil
let the sun in
drank the rain
and that meticulous ensemble
plays still for the wolf and the eagle.
With the last seed sewn
I sit transfixed by the garden gate
knowing every blossom in every random patch
will arise and pass away like the pointless TV news
and I hear the machinery of this impermanence
crackling like spring frost
when sprouts push through
and Gaia’s eternal trumpets ring.
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
Wayfarer,
walk with me
down the open, crumbling road.
We’re two surviving souls--
billion year old
molecules binding
our hearts, muscles,
bones and nerves winding--
let us go back to the beginning,
before the time of sinning,
to the start of our creation,
before government or nation,
to find the garden and lose regarding--
regain our innocence.
The sun, rain and wind will test us--
we’ll build shelters of hides and bones,
pick berries and sharpen knives with stones,
play bone flutes and gut-stringed lutes,
and **** nothing without reason
and prepare for each change of season.
We’ll take our water from the glacial melt.
Our fashion will be the furry pelt.
Of course, we’ll remember poem and song--
for they were never wrong;
art was blameless.
It was the only thing
“Civilization” left us.
We’ll spark fire with pegs and strings
whirring, friction, small kindlings
into fire; we'll sit round and tell our history--
marvel at our ancestors’ folly, what mystery...
We’ll write dramas and dance;
we will honor this second chance.
English we will remember.
And French and Arabic, Latin and Hebrew.
We’ll start a new language, or two.
We’ll wash and sew condoms from intestines;
this time, what we’ll invest in
will be sustainability.
No need to propagate the earth--
it is fruitful enough already.
Only to be in harmony, a place neither above, nor below, others--
the animals and plants, who are our sisters and our brothers.
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
She bore three kids,
Cooked their meals.
Washed and cleaned,
Paid the bills.
Morning game shows
Brought her thrills,
Daytime dramas
Gave her shills.
She juggled schedules
Without a care,
Her kids' chauffeur
Going here and there.
To softball and soccer practices
To see them in a play,
It went on day after day.
The hurts and pains
Wouldn’t go away,
The wrinkles too
Were there to stay.
She moaned and groaned,
She pined all day
Of throbbing joints that ached.
Her hair started turning gray,
She's getting old, a big mistake.
Her rich husband said one day,
This life is not for me,
I'm going my own way,
I'm stifled, need to be free.
I'll give you child support,
You'll have alimony too,
The love is gone,
What else is there to do?
He went away
To start a new life,
She's on her own
To toil and strife.
He up and left her,
Very happy now,
He found himself
A trophy wife.
Mar 14, 2010
Mar 14, 2010 at 5:35 PM UTC
Restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows.
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
What did I know about drowning or being drowned?
Sorrow is my own yard,
And in short, I was afraid.
My life will shut very beautifully, suddenly
When everything broken is broken, and everything dead is dead, and the hero has looked into the mirror with complete contempt and the heroine has studied her face and it’s defects
Who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment cliff-banks,
Who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessively,
Who jumped off the Brooklyn bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten.
I used to pray to recover you
Who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard, wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts
Who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other’s salvation.
Your most frail gesture are things which enclose me.
At twenty I tried to die.
This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper.
Watching the others go about their days, likes and dislikes, reasons, habits, fears that self-love is the one weedy stalk of every human blossoming.
How do they do it, the ones who make love without love
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 1:32 PM UTC
The old blanket is so hard to discard
dramas have unfolded in its folds
upheavals of winter's orogeny
trills of two birds in ecstatic thrill
to the rest in the ripened knowledge
*we have made a home
we have earned it.*
In the still of night
under the old blanket
the tales are relived
without a touch
a word..
The old blanket is so hard to discard.
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 5:00 AM UTC