"duller" poems
I use my eyes to see
As anyone else would
I see the colors all around me and the faces of those I love
I love my eyes for they let me see things some can't
Like the expression on your face when you make a mistake
Or the rare smile that you hide
But now my eyes are tired
Dark circles surround them
And my vision is slowly getting duller
The world seems to be turning into a monochrome mess
I couldn't even tell when the red under your eyes
Had turned to the same black as mine
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 1:22 PM UTC
True equality is what is wished for
But what if you really opened that door
What would be on the other side?
I’m not sure we’d enjoy the ride
Individuality dies with equality
There are no choices you see
If everyone has to have the same things
No one gets to win the brass ring
No more people like you and people like me
If the same is all we ever get to be
The same model car and the same clothes
The same old food in the same homes
The same haircut and the same color
Or we are all clean shaved so much the duller
The same education for everybody
You’re paid the same as anybody
Sports would all end in a tie
If there still played at all… sigh
No more winners, No more losers
No choices so no choosers
There are no differing opinions you see
When you’re a victim of true equality
No reason to strive
There is no ladder to climb
No reward for hard work
Are you feeling the irk?
No matter what, you cannot get ahead
It’s almost as if you are full of lead
But that just it, no ahead to get
When everyone gets what everyone gets
The Thought police are out in full force
No one is married or there is no divorce
No kids at all or everyone has 2
There is no longer me and no longer you
When equal society is the important thing
Everyone gets to feel every sting
Orwellian yes
But truth none the less
The only people different are the ones in charge
While everyone suffers they live it large
They get to decide how much you’re alive
And they can tell you 2+2=5
So how does this strike you?
Will that work for you too?
I’m not a fan
Of this little plan
Because not everyone is the same
No matter what people will claim
We don’t think the same thoughts
We don’t call the same shots
Not even twins are exactly the same
And if we all were, what a boring game
Just a bunch of clones, going nowhere
Just dull and drab, no bling and no flair.
Yet that is what current society prescribes
Even though were all from different tribes
If we ever achieve true equality
Remember sometimes wishes end badly
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 8:19 AM UTC
Her soul is bleeding,
her colors are fading;
instead of becoming nothing,
she chose to give away her everything.
And so...
The world around her
suddenly turned brighter,
and there she was
slowly becoming duller.
The pain was unbearable
yet she silently endured it all,
she held the brush in her hand
and painted until the end.
Oct 12, 2019
Oct 12, 2019 at 5:47 AM UTC
Grey,
A mix of black and white,
When light and dark combine but neither wins.
Grey,
An uncertain compromise,
Not best for either side but close enough.
Grey,
Never beautiful,
Duller than all others.
Grey,
A gloomy sky,
Bringing loving water, yet hated.
Grey,
Dead,
Bringing only misery, always.
Grey,
The colour of my heart,
Until I met you.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
You look at me.
I look at you.
The heat rises.
Arousal is overpowering.
The nausea begins.
You ask, ‘Shall we?’
And, I blush, wondering if eternity will come together at least this time;
Going against my celibacy of a year,
Bowing to the blushing nausea of the routine arousal of a forgotten yesterday,
Awkwardly I crawl on the bed, sliding closer to you.
I sit on your lap.
I feel your hard on in between my thighs.
I rhythmically move with closed eyes.
Blushing, I open my eyes to look at your long black curls.
I cup your long brown beard in my moist palms
My eyes meet yours and they stutter, scatter and flutter.
Blushing, with halp open eyes and wide open *****
I ****** my jumpsuit harder on your hard-on.
Your hands wary over my ***** and I clench my fist slowly over your manhood.
Suddenly, I become faster than you.
I kiss you madly, rub your beard over my tender cheeks and almost bruised lips.
You pause.
I don’t see you no more.
I heat up.
I remember kissing your manhood, loving it, eating it and nibbling it for what seemed to be forever,
Until I choked.
Paused.
The clothes are gone.
And you pulled me by my hair.
Bent my waist before I could grasp a glance of your rugged beard,
Of your sour kiss,
And, then it was just thrusts. And thrusts. And Thrusts.
And a million more thrusts.
After an eternity of an endless void,
It pulsated inside.
I felt a mild tingle.
Nothing much.
Nothing heavy.
Nothing shivering, to me.
To you as well.
It seemed strange.
And then you were out.
And then you were gone.
I dripped.
I dried.
I spilled.
And, I oathed that I will be celibate for the rest of my life,
Again.
Because you grow upper, and upper,
You forgot to make love.
You forgot to kiss me.
You forgot to look into my eyes.
You forgot to caress my hips.
You forgot to clench your nails into my neck
Because the ground does not move anymore.
To let me see the passion in your eyes when you're inside me,
Because there is no more passion left of this copulation.
This coitus is a blank frustration and none more.
It is just a routine now.
It will just be a routine again.
I swallow the pink-butterfly pill.
And I know, that this nausea
This arousal
Will enslave me the next time as well.
And next time too,
It will never be the same as I moan in my solitary void,
Feeling the tingle in my crotch,
Awaiting a warmth,
Tingles, and all the other fantasies.
I will just stand, stare, hope and die without the holy tingle,
And you will too.
We are just jaded, and Jade till it all dims to an oblivion of a momentary jade.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 1:09 PM UTC
"Don't be afraid,"
My mama said.
Gurgling water,
my mind went to wonder,
how would like,
if we had no daylight.
Would the sun
Shine in a different color?
Or will the world just become duller?
Or; would the sun turn to none?
But I guess,
That's too bad.
Because nevertheless,
The sun..
Is still rad.
y.m
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
It's duller now
I only see you in my suggested friends list... or in tagged posts.
Or in your sister's comment threads.
But I still remember when seeing you on my timeline made me burn up. At first it was ginger, spicy and sweet. Talking to you made me feel like I had the universe in my head; probably because you told me you were studying the string theory and you knew how stars formed.
After a while I didn't feel a burn anymore. I didn't feel anything in my head except empty and I didn't know how to remedy it, except by putting all of myself towards keeping you from feeling the same. I lost myself; you found me, absorbed my strength, and said you had none to give back when I needed it.
The night you tried to **** yourself wasn't ginger, cayenne, or even the weak sting of crushed black pepper. It was pure peppermint oil: molten silver and acidic. I have no other words for it. It hurt almost as bad as when, after weeks of not knowing if you were dead or alive, you texted me.
"So, your cousin is pretty amazing... we've only been talking a week but I think I'm in love with her?"
That was cayenne...
But now I guess I've built up a tolerance.
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 8:39 PM UTC
167
To learn the Transport by the Pain
As Blind Men learn the sun!
To die of thirst—suspecting
That Brooks in Meadows run!
To stay the homesick—homesick feet
Upon a foreign shore—
Haunted by native lands, the while—
And blue—beloved air!
This is the Sovereign Anguish!
This—the signal woe!
These are the patient “Laureates”
Whose voices—trained—below—
Ascend in ceaseless Carol—
Inaudible, indeed,
To us—the duller scholars
Of the Mysterious Bard!
3.5k
795
Her final Summer was it—
And yet We guessed it not—
If tenderer industriousness
Pervaded Her, We thought
A further force of life
Developed from within—
When Death lit all the shortness up
It made the hurry plain—
We wondered at our blindness
When nothing was to see
But Her Carrara Guide post—
At Our Stupidity—
When duller than our dullness
The Busy Darling lay—
So busy was she—finishing—
So leisurely—were We—
3.3k
Leaves stripped bare,
The clump of a nest
Now so obvious, but since abandoned
Past residents won't care.
This morn, winter flavored branches
Sweet confections that beckoned.
Black in twilight, the silhouettes
Look again as barren,
Swaying spindly fingers
And counting stars
Which today seem so far.
Once I reached up and plucked
Those winking sparkles to sprinkle
A pillow I shared,
Though glowing duller amid dreams
That shined in young eyes.
Their beams became beacons,
Joining hearts across oceans
So that distance wouldn't matter.
It was in absence dread fate dared,
Soon setting ancient lights to falter,
Dimming, dying through time's haze.
Oh, how long ago did I last gaze
Upon exciting skies as this!
Certain of the hopes and promise
Avowed within those sparks held.
T'was briefest of life's moments,
Most rare and intense,
Never again finding its day
Save in ambush of memory
On a night like this
When wind blows bitter and swift.
Brilliance still dances, but ever so far away
Feb 14, 2010
Feb 14, 2010 at 4:36 PM UTC
You!
Hey.
Good-day.
I presume.
Pessimistic flu.
Hypocritical to annoy.
The poor man's Rolls Royce
-is the pessimists one good choice.
They live with fragility,
-unwilling rigidity,
-and rarely tranquility.
Some weep at morbid memories,
-others at faithless fantasies,
-do they (or you?) see the precipices
-between the then, now and will be?
So what if you take a blue bruising back-slap
-for your lacking, a juicy reminding
-for regretful whining, lifetime timing,
-miraculous hopes of a future shining
-because you're wasting your time
-and not even minding!
So listen, or in duller cases, read;
-thoughts are naught but mares and dreams,
-man made mind transparencies
-will's the sum of immediacies
-like waiting in your station
-but you're deciding the destination
-your journey fundamentally what you make it
-it's simple but pessimists are complicated
-would you not trade freedom for a life you hated?
Pessimistic man, forget it
Ranting is silly - you just don't get it
You didn't see the golden beauty I bet it
Gold is copper to you anyway
What would Fibonacci say!
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 5:38 AM UTC
#
The Perfect Girl
As most would describe her
Quite, sweet a lovely delight
but be weary boys the perfect girl bites
Short brown hair
with a strange splash of colour
Light blue eyes
that couldn't get any duller
The girl was once pure
An absolute saint
she went to church weekly
Till he covered her with a fresh coat of paint
Warm cardigans and jeans
that was her fashion
until the boy on the pedestal
came into her life crashing
A girl so perfect
was doomed from the start
She fell instantly for him
but he had no heart
Changing her style
and the way that she looked
trying to gain his attention
and surely he was hooked
Low cut shirts
and extremely short shorts
forgetting her bra
and fixing her looks
dropping her grades
and breaking the rules
she became a new girl
but her reputation stood
She was just another game
but only at the start
For somehow pedestal boy
had suddenly grown a heart
A relationship grew
and they both were obsessed
A static connection
that was somehow messed
The tables had turned
and so had her heart
Perfect girl made a choice
Lets be apart.
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 10:51 PM UTC
*Before the fall rains come,
Let’s have one more picnic,
Now that the leaves are turning color
And the grass is still green in places.
– by Charles Simic*
A hot day brings the summer alcohol
Out of hiding.
Surrounded,
Each ice cube vanishes into my glass,
Like children running from the year’s last
class,
Mingling with the ***
I relish laying
My hand on your naked chest
In the August sun,
Before the fall rains come.
Layered with a glaze of sweat
Neither yours nor mine but both,
My eyelids slide like honey
Over my quiet eyes,
Relaxing my thighs,
Daydreaming of earlier, when
You said to me
In the same tone as one with
Only a couple pages left in his comic,
“Let’s have one more picnic.”
Tomorrow, I’ll pack a basket
With some entertaining food:
Whipped cream, chocolate strawberries.
Under your tongue they’ll disappear
From here, here, and here.
(It’s duller
Without them.)
I’ll be excited looking around at
The land in a riot of multicolour,
Now that the leaves are turning colour.
But I’ll realize it isn’t you
Specifically;
Just that you were there, and I was there.
And we’ll realize we’re in love, however,
You or I could be whoever.
Gazing at each other, still with good graces
And moderate tolerance we’ll think,
“The sky is partially blue,
There are half-smiles on our faces,
And the grass is still green in places.”
Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 8:15 PM UTC
.
**•point
our fing-
ers to the
nearest a-
vailable s-
uckers• to
take respo-
nsibility a-
nd be acco-
untable....no
one really bothers•we
do it so well unlike any other•al-
most a skill that never gets duller•shit hits
the fan, we all look for someone to blame•it's a
hapless situation when we partake in such a ga-
me•it's become a norm that simply never ends •
it's a nasty situation that makes enemies out of f-
riends•i look at myself and realise that i am no
different•for i too, have my finger pointed si-
lent•i too, have erred...warranting reproach
•milling over transgressions my words
dare not broach•sigh...why is it so
that such a habit we can never
sever•think no further...let's
just blame it on......................**
human nature•
.
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 10:11 AM UTC
When my body used to ache at night
Feeling like bruises were beneath the skin
You'd tell me it was the tickle monster
I'd ask if you were friends with him
And you would nod your head
And I'd say
'could you give him a message for me?'
And you'd say
'well, i can try, but he doesn't like to listen'
I'd ask you to ask him if he could let up at least for one night
Take away all the pain I feel inside my body
And you would put your hand over my eyes
And say 'he'll receive your question'
You'd kiss my lips and tug me closer
Then the next night I'd sleep better
You took your ability when you packed
And left me to deal with a tickle monster
It's funny how we pretend that things exist
To make the pain a little duller
And now my skin aches again as if I've been hit
By a million crashing waves and bodies
And I lay awake and whisper
'Please, receive my message, I don't have a messenger'
'But I'm begging you, I need you now more than ever'
'Your friend has gone, and he left me alone too'
'I guess it's just me & you'
Me & the tickle monster.
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 2:20 AM UTC
Poetry.
A world of bitter sweet extremes
Bleeding hearts and unknown eyes
Forever friendships and lovesick smiles
A world of black and white
Wrong and right.
We live in freezing ice
We live in burning fire.
Furiously typing colour
Into a world that renders grey
Never letting duller shades shine through
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 1:41 PM UTC
Vapid people
dribbling vapid shxt.
A society of fxck-eyed,
drunken infants
debating politics memorised
from Fox News.
We, the awakened,
plastering social media
with doll-faced mannequins
captioned with some Eastern Philosophy
we read in Cosmo,
enhanced with a filter
titled "Who The **** Is Lao Tzu?"
Comments read: goals af.
(Insert emoji here)
And praise the Indigo Children!
It's a true gift indeed
to talk about activism
until blue in the face.
My, what a spiritual hue, are you.
Are you?
A generation of craft makers,
weaving their way
through the alcoholic labyrinth,
drawing the Hungover Man
from a Rider Waite tarot deck,
for another episode of Dull and Duller
next weekend.
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 1:28 AM UTC
“I miss you” is an understatement
Because when I say “I miss you” what I’m really saying is that
Every day I go without your laughter
Without your smile
Without your voice
Without your intoxicating presence
Is a day wasted
It’s a day the sun is a bit duller
Food a bit blander
And oxygen less satisfying
Suffice it to say
“I miss you” is an understatement
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
when I go
it will be
impossibly late
and I’ll leave you
not multi-talented bars
or pairs of randy ingots
itching to procreate
in a splendid explosion
of golden delight
what I’ll leave you is
a stale-air larder
filled just this once
by dully packaged thoughts
and duller feelings
when I have them
they could only couple
if enlivened with musical prodding
or the sigh effecting benefits
from hands full of mood-altering
pharmaceuticals
so please yourself instead
and don’t
put them to any use
bury them deep
better yet
pile them high on Pyrrhic pyres
where the gathering scorch will send
down leaden puddles
while precious platinum curls rise
up to trickle trickster tears
my greatest possible reward
Sep 3, 2010
Sep 3, 2010 at 8:54 AM UTC
"What's your birthstone?
I don't know, Oh, I know--it's rock."
Black rocks baking in the sun
dot this beach
Like chocolate chips in the dough
They call to us
Come climb,
Come hop on us
Find treasures hidden behind and between
All our dark shadows,
Lying as still as stone
A large rock shape,
Oh, it's grayer
and duller,
and there's sand sprinkled on it,
And it's moving!
It's Living Rock,
The monk seal napping
from its morning meal.
Yes- we watch others walk right by him
caught in their words,
Unaware of the living amongst the rocks,
Living Rock doesn't care
His belly is full
Gray sleek shape
massaged by the wind
with feast in your belly,
So mighty tired!
You taste your sleep for days,
Clouds cover the day's starlight you seek,
Your body begs for light, and yet
Nobody can wake you from your slumber
Not even the high pitched voices
of children playing
nor the fishing lines in and out of the tide
What of your dreams
Oh Large Gray Rock
Do you dream of the ocean tossing
Fish into your mouth?
Or of the warm sun coming
to bake your skin?
The salt water dances up your nostrils,
You lift your head in mild protest
Then let it rest on your
Ancient bed of coral and shell bones
My feet love to dig into your bed
No insomnia for you sea creatures,
Maybe I should count monk seals
Instead of sheep when I want to sleep,
Your body clock measures time
Not in days or hours
But in meals, in hunts
In fullness, in emptiness
Your sleep is well earned
My friend
We can learn from you.
You bask, dream,
Then awaken renewed
To taste your ocean again,
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 9:27 PM UTC
I see you
You lurk beneath the skin
Razor teeth shining through otherwise empty words
I see you in the malice
In the anger and confusion
Contorting the human mask you wear
I see you in the hatred
Growing stronger
As together you learn to hate yourself
Each passing moment you are brighter
Your host duller
Although you hide it well
And I am afraid
Afraid that one day
I will see you
And you see me
In a mirrors reflection
That one day you will ravage my mind
Tear away all knowledge and perception
That I endear
As I burn my loved ones
With your bitter tongue
And slowly forget them entirely
Until I become you
And then can no longer see you
As now i have seen you
Take another's skin
Remove him from his family
Take his pride, his mind
His love for all
And isolate us
In our islands of fear
Frozen, we can do nothing at all
I realise that there is no happy ending
There is no way back now
I always thought there were second chances
But he is leaving us, painful piece by piece
So fast, yet slow
It's unbearable
For now I have seen you
And I can never forget
The look in your eyes
The words you've said
I see the void
I see living death
And at least for now
You cannot see me yet
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 7:36 PM UTC
There's something inexplicable
about the way
they make you feel
nothing.
Happiness is fleeting
but
you are your own mistake
you keep repeating.
one of these nights
might turn out right
if you keep your mouth shut
like the door you're always
finding yourself behind
with your back against the wood,
muscles tensing
as you knew they would.
Nose bleeding-
when is the last time you ate?
It took you an hour to get ready but
no one can see all your hard work
in the shade.
"baby, you look great"
is all you wanted to grace you ears
but you've got too much on your plate
and there are only couples here.
They will pay you no mind
and you will begin to feel
you might have been left behind.
you pretend you aren't hungry
because it seems more grungy.
cigarettes will stain your teeth
and smoke will spin circles at your feet
as you sway alone;
always hanging in the wings
you're looking for another drink
another triple shot
and you sink deeper into
the half-assed hope
that this will be a night
you forgot.
Just more meaningless crumbs
of these evening hours
accumulating into an unusable mass
of dried out nights
exaggerate another fight
you had with your mind-
what will you do when they call you out
for being lower than the grout
in the bathroom
baby face like you just came out of the womb
your knife is duller than
your conversation topic
you're a fake-
From a mile away can you be spotted.
Drained of inspiration
plagued by perpetual consternation
what will you sample next
on your way to a falsified elation.
Spending weeks away dragon chasing-
How long will you be on mental vacation?
They're growing impatient.
C.e.M. 12.21.2014
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 1:42 AM UTC
Daily I listen to wonder and woe,
Nightly I hearken to knave or to ace,
Telling me stories of lava and snow,
Delicate fables of ribbon and lace,
Tales of the quarry, the **** the chase,
Longer than heaven and duller than hell--
Never you blame me, who cry my case:
"Poets alone should kiss and tell!"
Dumbly I hear what I never should know,
Gently I counsel of pride and of grace;
Into minutiae gayly they go,
Telling the name and the time and the place.
Cede them your silence and grant them space--
Who tenders an inch shall be ***** of an ell!
Sympathy's ever the boaster's brace;
Poets alone should kiss and tell.
Why am I tithed what I never did owe?
Choked with vicarious saffron and mace?
Weary my lids, and my fingers are slow--
Gentlemen, **** you, you've halted my pace.
Only the lads of the cursed race,
Only the knights of the desolate spell,
May point me the lines the blood-drops trace--
Poets alone should kiss and tell.
L'ENVOI
Prince or commoner, tenor or bass,
Painter or plumber or never-do-well,
Do me a favor and shut your face
Poets alone should kiss and tell.
1.9k
Spades take up leaves
No better than spoons,
And bags full of leaves
Are light as balloons.
I make a great noise
Of rustling all day
Like rabbit and deer
Running away.
But the mountains I raise
Elude my embrace,
Flowing over my arms
And into my face.
I may load and unload
Again and again
Till I fill the whole shed,
And what have I then?
Next to nothing for weight,
And since they grew duller
From contact with earth,
Next to nothing for color.
Next to nothing for use.
But a crop is a crop,
And who’s to say where
The harvest shall stop?
1.9k
Diving into an endless void with never ending clocks that float in every direction
Ticking to time zones that no longer exist.
Cascading upside down I rise into a world
on a distorted path of the less traveled.
I land on a solid platform of rocks and rubble.
filled with no sense of security I walk towards a figure with a face of light projecting old memories onto a wall of painted pain.
It’s filled with uncomplimentary colors devoid of all light.
I float to the wall that was created on the tears of bad luck and I paint my yellow light down the wall in a single stroke.
It ages instantly becoming duller but
The yellow remains moving along with the other colors.
I move my hand against the wall as I am pulled upwards and I can no longer touch it and it eventually vanishes away.
I float higher looking up towards a light.
it engulfs me, now it is all that surrounds me.
Leaving my shadow with nowhere to land, so I caress them in my arms.
I hear clicking and I close my eyes.
"Have all the opportunities passed?
Have all the paths ended?"
I feel the warmth of everlasting sunshine on my skin
and the sounds of calming winds and rustling leaves.
I open my eyes to see a bountiful blue sky
of puffy white clouds and rainbow rays of sunshine.
with emerald green grass forming to the shape of my hands
and with no sense of purpose, I smile.
Feb 28, 2022
Feb 28, 2022 at 5:32 PM UTC