"drifter" poems
Sensation, intuition, feeling, and thinking,
Is wrapped inside a ball,
A small pink ball inside our head,
That won't stop till we're dead,
Analytical bedrock inside oozing theories,
Elemental atoms sizzling logic,
The imaginative stranger,
One abstracted and eccentric,
Walking with shadows,
Talking and mocking,
Through these theories inside us,
Tilting our caps ‘til we’re shaking our heads,
Pensive love in storming analysis,
Sapiosexually excited, piqued interest,
Unemotional and thoughtfully attuned,
Absently minded, always condoned,
Unconventional and impartially stringed,
Weirdly wired in auxiliary functions,
Misconstrued and misunderstood,
An ****** intelligence bleeding paranoia,
Knocking unto me,
Into you, inside us all,
It’s something we all yearn to be,
And when you fail and prevail we laugh,
Crickling crickets thinking nothing,
Washing down the storm drain,
With no thoughts fluidly sliding down my throat,
Pop goes no questions into absolute concise words like freshly broken glass,
Again shadows await, but different shadows,
Blinking at me staring at you,
Wondering what’s what, inside this dementia made sense of a lovely afternoon,
Inside your sane, autocorrected, predetermined, twitching, little…mind.
Inspired by Myers Briggs Personality Test
Tyler is INTP... Logician (Introverted INtuitive Thinking Perception)
The drifter, dreamer the absent minded professor!
SassyJ is INTJ... Architect (Introverted INtuitive Thinking Judging)
The starry-eyed idealist manoeuvring life as if a giant chess board!
What Myer Briggs personality type are you?... See link below
It would be great to know.Please comment!!
http://www.16personalities.com/intp-personality
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
Never here nor there
Rather, everywhere
A drifter
Wandering a sea of dust
And emptiness
For I am alone
This isn't a poem
It's a plea
No consistency
Stability a foreign word
*Because my ******* mind*
Won't cooperate with my
*Stupid ******* needs*
I can't breath alone
And that's all I am
Alone
How my body yearns for
The touch of warm fingers
The caress of arousal
But my mind refuses
To stay in one place
So I am lost to the wonders
Of love and such
Because I can't stick around
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
Dancing with the drifter, the howling wind,
I hear my calling.
Surrounded by curious quadrupeds, peculiar creatures.
The mind follows the adventure, futuristic thoughts are revealed.
A video of truth, hidden meaning, I suppose.
Led down the path of broken homes, forgotten tears, dark holes.
The ending, foreseen or to be unclear?
To dance with the deers,
a scrutable choice.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 12:32 AM UTC
A drifter, a shadow,
There one minute, moving on the next
Always watching, always waiting
Loved by some, despised by others
But never caring.
The eternal guardian of the sky
Some celebrate the absence of any,
Others relish in the relief it brings
But regardless it does its job
Whether hated or loved
It can be the solitary loner,
But it always looks for a group.
Whether to enhance the sunset,
Or create a righteous storm
It seeks comrades, it seeks a home.
Never caring whether hated or loved
It seeks comrades it seeks a home
But it still stands resolute.
It will always watch, it will always guard;
Regardless of the opinions of other.
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 3:02 PM UTC
the tick in the clock
the chatter of an ignition
dishes clanking
Mr. Everywhere
nowhere to be seen
the lungs don't show the lifetime spent escaping
times are cold
but it's too hot in the kitchen
make me a transient drifter
with a handkerchief on a stick
eating an apple
in a boxcar making it's way through cold night
make me disappear a wrangler
an outlaw
delete my typos
and move me to the recycling bin
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 10:15 PM UTC
Mind of mine, you alien child.
I spoon-fed you for many years.
I pretended it was a plane in some cases
and the things you spat out
I fed to you again.
Mind of mine, you shadow of a melody.
Homeless drifter on the A41
with a 5 stringed guitar and no common sense.
Begging for a shoelace to tie on
whilst you go hungry.
Mind of mine, you nervous gun clip.
You know you’re unloaded
so your barrel droops like a snowdrop.
No hippie can put a flower in you.
and your shakes are breaking my wrist.
Mind of mine, you scar butterfly-collector.
Snatching red admirals with a chameleon tongue
and when you stitch them in
their red eyes close on dusty wings.
I know you’re lying when you can’t feel a thing.
Mind of mine, You’re a ****** full of love
and a belly full of drugs.
Positive negative flip, as love is in electrics
and you’re still such a bad liar
to tell me it’s anything else.
Mind of mine,
I can be such a bad parent to you
and an even worse child.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 6:42 PM UTC
I'm born
Airborne
Forlorn
In war torn
Discord
My ripcord
I pull for liberation
Alienation aviation
Away from a station
Of no relation
Where their elation
Lies in degeneration
The fright fair
Nightmare
In sight there
Is a right scare
But light flares
From an illuminated theater
I dive into art
To fill my meter
I consume
Darkened tomb
Screen in room
Is where I loom
Inspiration blooms
From a sense of doom
My separation reparation
That will lead to veneration
My artistic fervor
Drifted further
Drifter's murmurs
Lifted learners
But gifted murderers
Shifted girders
Of shame and honesty
To my grave of modesty
Where they prey upon me
This plagiarism
Layered schism
Cratered rhythm
Of great decisions
Now I make incisions
With repetition
And the definition
Of words stolen from me
They're all I can see
And I can't get free
Or just let it be
Consumption disruption
At this junction
I can't function
A plagiarist
****** mist
Grips my fist
Makes me wish
I don't exist
I must resist
Before I miss
My chance at bliss
They're ****** me
By aping me
Making me
Shaking trees
Of bumblebees
With rumble pleas
On humble knees
Drinking antifreeze
Nobody cares
What's fair
They bear
And share
Blank stares
Up stairs
Of artistic compromise
Integrity lost in lies
They're not that wise
I hypothesize
My baby
Caught rabies
From Hades
Now ladies
Flock to a thief
Giving me grief
Beyond belief
In my coral reef
Sword in sheath
I drown discreet
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 2:29 PM UTC
The drifter in the room is a stranger,
he is crazy, is Bigfoot with deer moccasins on−
monster of condominium rooms and dreams.
The drifter in this room used to be my friend.
He spoke straight sentences, they did not sound like poetry-
reverberated like a narrative, special lines good a few bad,
or stories being unwound by the tongue of a gentleman,
lip service, juggler of simple words to children.
The night is a dark believer in drifters,
they sound sober, affairs with the wind,
the 3 A.M. honking of the Metro trains.
Everything sleeps with a love, a nightmare at night.
The drifter.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 7:38 AM UTC
Holding the compass of uncertainties,
Carrying the baggage of memories,
The drifter is drifting along with the tides…
Without boundaries or borders,
Floating with the moment,
The drifter is weaving timeless dreams…
Playing with the shadow and light,
Swinging with the hands of time,
Unbound in the truth of freedom,
The drifter is living in the moment…
The journey of love and joy,
Build in every pause life takes,
Never holding back the voyage,
The drifter survives in the passion…
Miles and milestones left behind,
The strides always ahead of the past,
Moving forward in the distance,
The drifter fades between the lines of present and future…
Jayakumar K
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 12:56 PM UTC
My room’s a disaster, and I am positive it is a reflection of the current state of my life.
But, I mean, what do I know?
My life is nothing short of scawompus.
And by golly, let the wild rumpus begin, I shout- to the heavens- instead of taking the time to clean a few things up. Instead I linger, just oh, so fed up.
What do I know?
I know for certain I am not the only one who would rather relinquish their life story to a stranger at coffee house than to their best pal on occasion. Truthfully, that’s probably a factor in humanity’s perpetually loneliness, makes me question the reality of godliness,
But that’s another talk for another day.
I know, oh boy, I know we’re all just lonely ******
and darlin’ ain’t nobody's life more glamorous than yours,
just step out of your head for a moment.
Because it truly is gorgeous out here, there is every reason to fear, but also every reason to simply say **** it, and lie back and enjoy the view.
But what do I know?
I know it seems askew, but the beauty lies in the few who learn to appreciate the new.
Oh, what do I know?
Oh yes, I know I am **** crazy, and **** weird. I know this because I am reminded daily by my family, friends, and coworkers, but I am also **** happy for how depressed I am.
But then again, what do I know?
Let’s be honest,
I wear my whole life on my sleeve and still, nobody ******* knows me.
And I think I’m badass. Skanking at ska shows, waking with "oh no"s, what am I doing here?
In a strangers house after a night of fun and honest to god I am still bummed.
For whatever reason, whatever I may conjure up, and I am left here feeling like i’m still floating up,
Up, up I am drifting
I am a drifter
And I still don’t know what it feels like to feel
I am a ****** to life in so many senses
My senses are unfulfilled,
But I am scared senseless of what my future holds.
And what THE HELL do I know?
I am undeniably bewildered,
Nevertheless, aren’t we all?
In that, who really KNOWS anything these days…
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 5:44 AM UTC
We stopped in the
whispy city,
the hippy boy and me.
We thought of the
good times and bad,
and encouraged our minds
to be free.
We came upon a drifter
a ***** old man and
his wife.
We never felt the distance,
though imagined their life
without strife.
But where can we be
today
alone in our world
side by side.
We thought about
loving good times
so great and yet
we cried.
Reenter the crispy-
like city,
snow covered,
serene & oblique.
We wandered around
with no purpose,
an oasis that just
sprung a leak.
And who never fought
the war,
the angular, meaningless
scourge.
We found all the cities
amuck,
and all we could sing
was good luck.
So who never sang
the song,
that glorious, soulful
olio.
Just me and that young
hippy boy,
while nobody else
really cared.
Oct 23, 2010
Oct 23, 2010 at 6:51 PM UTC
each bird has its own branch and i am alone now
in mid-february midnight desolation
under a web of stars white as salt and just as plentiful
waiting on the celestial cyclist to bring the dawn across
my face and scorch the cool wet grass
tonight the clouds are arranged like a chessboard
a cosmic design in darkness and light
and i am a crippled pawn meditating with
with my pants off and my naked feet
in the sand of a north florida crossroads
trying to lose my own gravity and merge
with the stars cloaked in maniac faith
and american sweat
i'm waiting to be found by a bush doctor
with my head filled and floating like a nitrous balloon
under a canopy of hi-frequency bats
and the infinite disco ball hoping
this mighty poem might expand
time and fill space
i am no longer a jail cell poet starving
and pacing like a goldfish in an orange jumpsuit
the miraculous sunbreak has touched my deepest cells
hypnotized my life and caught
the tears on the right side of my face
i am a bee trembling in sunlight
salute me
i hope there is a mild breeze today
to dance sensually with my drifter's spirit
and swirl blond hair and pure cotton against
the sky at the top of this abandoned railroad bridge
covered in rust
all the sudden i am singing radically
about overcoming cosmic humiliation
bruise-purple tongue unhitched and lilting
long throat curled up toward the sun
as the birds and deer stand dumbfounded in the clearing
the sound resonates in my gut as my big white
teeth slam together
in this devout moment among
my share of god's abundance
i am only approximately human
one with the smell of living trees
dancing on the salad hillside
big eyes birthed inside sunset colors
soaked in warm honey with toes
twitching above the imagined
fire at my feet
when the singing stops and
the sun goes down i melt
back into my own temporal lobe
caressed by a butterfly finally
able to sleep
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
Poison rain and yet I stayed
Dreamed of days and times that were fantasy made,
All the signals
But that was me,
He loves me
But he loves them more you see
Drifter,
let's talk about the drifter
just a temporary fix
and you can always predict,
Drifter,
let's talk about the drifter
I can smell his next stop
I'm a quitter
I can hear the guns drop
Diamond promise that I made
Walking on glass,
what's the fuss?
I know that I had to pay
He was a drifter
But that I know
Maybe he loves me but he loves them more
Drifter,
Now I'm a drifter
just a temporary fix
Can you try to predict?
Drifter,
now I'm the drifter
I can see my next stop
I'm a winner
It's the past that I drop
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 4:53 PM UTC
I'm a small pebble
making a giant ripple
A speck of black sand
on a coral white beach
The left foot
kicking up a storm
A hermit, a drifter
a paradigm shifter
I am a disruptive
not a destructive force
I think outside of the box because inside I'm lost
I've been Nero, DaVinci
Neruda, Dali
burned as a witch
and now I'm just me....
a small pebble
making a giant ripple
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 9:47 AM UTC
I scream and sing while I do my thing
With my guitar I let the shredding begin
To go with the rhythm I bang my head
With the noise I make, I'll be waking the dead. Yeaahh!
Swirling like the leave that falls
My music's sweet its rock n roll
With my lyrics, I'm getting in your head
Oh baby tonight meet me on your bed. Whoah!
I'll make your world, jumps up and down
Until we both go deeper underground
Exchanging body heat with our melody
Oh baby tonight don't you feel so pretty? Ahhhh!!
I'm a rockstar baby come and sing along
I'm a drifter yeah! I'm a rolling stone
We sing a song, we come and go
We soar so high and then we go down low...oooohhh!
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 6:45 AM UTC
a gypsy wind
don't ever stay
a gypsy wind
roams his own way
to one scene
he'll not be bound
cause his spirit yearns
for freedom's ground
the route to leave
loose of grail
the highway calls
liberty's trail
a drifter lives
in his soul's core
venturing every
tor and sandy shore
roads open
he'll always travel
seeking out
unlimited gravel
a gypsy wind
don't ever stay
a gypsy wind
roams his own way
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 6:35 PM UTC
To be a memory walker
A director of dreams
Forgetting what is real
And what endings really mean
Replaying harsher words
And sunnier days as well
An archaic tape rewatched with an organizational system from hell
I rearrange the order
From which this life is lived
Creating full pockets of happiness without despair sprinkled in
And I'll lay here with the highlight reel
Aching for people I've loved
Forgetting its okay to let things end
The connection was enough
A bittersweet day for memories
When new life paths are clear
Upsetting to have had connections
so strong
Yet end up nowhere near
But you are happy
He is happy
They are happy
And really, so am I
But sometimes,
It feels good to see you again
Even just in my mind
Sep 17, 2025
Sep 17, 2025 at 8:50 AM UTC
My early sea town home came
With strides of colossal change floating between
The marrow of my bones; gnawing inside.
Chance always showed me where to go
Landing near deep, blue-green waves
That washed the soft slumber from my eyes.
Perlious seas to cover the silence of a murmurous beauty
Pouring into the Colombia Gorge that flows a horizen-line
Against the rim of peaceful strangeness in the city.
Darkening dusk hovered in the wide quietness
Of Forest Park with lanterns lit along the west coast
while I counted the spaces of plum-colored stars.
There I went running on the hills through the virescent woods
Of tall evergreen trees dripping wanton rain into the hollows of a wet earth.
Dressed in ghost-white like a wayward drifter.
Night, emitted a warmth of drunken red wine
With tireless voices laugh shaken to beats of ethereal music.
Departure struck me with sudden change to a new home.
Ripped away and fixed in the belief of happenstance.
Always to remember the feeling of being young
On this cold night in Oregon.
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 10:11 PM UTC
Bruised thighs
Broken pairs
Foreign beggar
Painted drifter
Contorted poses
Common thief
Watery muse
Vehicular womanslaughter
Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 5:51 PM UTC
You led me down the mountain just like a raging river
My soul had no path, no less a nomad than a drifter.
You carried me as if there were no other way
No slow pace down the mountain – in your current, I will stay.
We’ve built an interdependency, your water begets life
But be gentle, my dear— water cuts just like a knife.
You maintain and sustain, bringing life within the rain.
Carving rivers into rock, your blood pumps through my veins.
Body to blood, and earth unto water
Propelling each other, we’ll make us stronger.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
Somewhere at the watercourse-
Silvery brume.
Shining through, like pulsing light-
Golden iris are in bloom.
Tongues of brazen flame-
Snap their reflection against the lukewarm mirror-
This is where order looms.
Felicity-
Serenity-
Vestigial depression.
Second guesses-
Underwhelming quests in wrong directions.
Oh elixir. Oh watercourse-
Oh inanimate eloquence.
How you tempt me with your evocative consonance.
You remind me of a woman-
Her husband and her son-
To me you are a drifter-
You remind me of the sun-
You remind me of a king-
of a man with sore eyes-
Mourning late son.
In the mornings sun rise.
Watercourse watercourse-
Lazy eyed shadow.
Left handed perfectionist-
Seething pale shallow.
Watercourse watercourse-
Your body feeds the worms.
Your souls seams have torn.
Watercourse watercourse.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
Metal head, tapping the barrel against my brain
Enough dark thoughts to drive men insane
Done with the feign, done with the all stress for the gain
Done with the drugs, the sensation of bliss was in vain
Death pumps through the veins, just beginning to realize it
People say I changed, I chose to deny it
Dissociated, putting up mental walls like they’re armor
Now I find myself making the same mistakes as my father
Never shaken or bothered. Never connected at all
No real relations, even my ******* self I appall
No motivation to stay, no motivation to leave
No motivation for anything, least of all me
No goals, No fears, No laughs, No tears
The face I wear’s a facade, just to blend with my peers
Honestly, I couldn’t care if it all ended tonight
Or if it didn’t, just don’t give a **** bout a life
So I sit here, contemplating thoughts of the bitter
Lit cigarette in the left, the other hand holds the trigger
Mind of a drifter, but I’ve given up on the plight
Sigh. Squeeze. Bang. I’m gone, goodnight.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 10:12 AM UTC