"earphones" poems
Silver winged of steel
Buckled up
Cocooned in a cabin
No phones, no emails, no Internet
Racing down the runway
Soaring high above the ground
Distant specks of life
Winged of steel climbs though the skies
Clouds below, clouds above
Seat reclines, put in my earphones, close my eyes
I lose myself, soothed by the motion of the flight
Just a seat, a window, sky, music
Suspended, moving above the earth
Windswept heights
Countries, oceans, mountains, forests
Dawn to dusk
Smooth and turbulent
Dancing through life’s path in the skies
My breath of Serenity
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 10:09 AM UTC
for what feels like
the first time
(in a long time)
i’ve met someone
and
everything’s exciting
it’s thrilling
exhilarating
to just
be myself
around him
and
i want to do nice things for him
i want to take off his shoes
make him tea
i want to draw ****** drawings of him
with sharpies
on napkins at parties
and i long to bring him home
go on long walks alone
with him
i wish to
write songs in his name
give him my earphones
(when his break)
and
we’re an
unlikely pair
and there’s
something
so infectious
about that
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 9:05 AM UTC
walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, who is that man?
You try so hard
But you dont understand
Just what youll say
When you get home
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
You raise up your head
And you ask, is this where it is?
And somebody points to you and says
Its his
And you say, whats mine?
And somebody else says, where what is?
And you say, oh my god
Am I here all alone?
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, how does it feel
To be such a freak?
And you say, impossible
As he hands you a bone
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To just give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations
Youve been with the professors
And theyve all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
Youve been through all of
F. scott fitzgeralds books
Youre very well read
Its well known
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
Now you see this one-eyed ******
Shouting the word now
And you say, for what reason?
And he says, how?
And you say, what does this mean?
And he screams back, youre a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin around
You should be made
To wear earphones
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
7.4k
you are
*breathtaking paintings displayed in museums,
therapeutic songs played with earphones on,
eloquent poems meant to make people feel.*
you are
everything i love to admire
and
everything i cannot call mine.
Jun 29, 2017
Jun 29, 2017 at 12:27 PM UTC
she entered the room
picked a seat at the back
she put her earphones on
lay her head on the desk.
"i am nobody
and nobody notices me.
why am i even staying here?"
she closed her eyes.
someone entered the room
picked a seat beside her.
she poked her.
she lifted her head with poker face.
"hi, Im Keren"
she gave a smile.
"maybe I should keep this someone"
she whispers at the back of her mind.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 2:40 AM UTC
love is a weird thing.
love wrapped his arms around you sometimes like always and
maybe this is what the hopeless romantics meant when they said sometimes home is not a place
love is like religion
where the worshippers would never hesitate to jump from the highest mountain to the lowest surface of the ocean
your head will bleed and you will still carve smiles using your lips, followed by the eyes and say thank you
how silly-
when he smiles
all the wilt flowers come back to life and bloom
and bloom
and bloom like its a spring season in december
its august and its rainy here but flowers
they last longer when he grins from ear to ear
like a silly man, like a precious silly bean
when he laughs
the chaos in my mind disappear
all the tics and all the screams up there just went quiet
its the moment of contentment
i wish to last
maybe not forever but give me a moment.
i can't stand eye contact
so i stare at him when he's not looking
and oh dear god
if this is a dream, i wouldn't mind trapped here
i wouldn't mind encounter the demons i see in the corner of my bed
i would approach them, shake their hands like an old friend
as long as i can be with him
for a little longer
but
when those lips spill the word love
i don't recognise it
h e l p me-
hate is the opposite word of love and
my doubts are loud
i hate the fact that my doubts are draining his love for me
my eyes are covered
and my ears are being plugged with earphones whispering he's lying.
my love,
i love you
i'm scared of heights but i'm an idiot and i would jump from the highest mountain in the name of love.
please-
i said please-
do not get tired of me
i want to trust you
let me put my trust on you
i'm trying.
i promise.
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 2:15 PM UTC
You can fall in love
with the way
someone pours milk
into their cereal,
listening to the things they speak about
when they sleep talk
at three in the morning,
and by watching them untangle
earphones, which somehow
seems to be their biggest challenge
of the day.
You can fall in love
examining the face they make
when they try to hold back laughter,
if they put their head or their arms
through a sweater first,
and the way they shiver
when it is 23 degrees outside
and they are only wearing
a leather jacket
while drowning in a
thick red scarf.
You can fall in love.
You can fall in love.
You can fall in love.
And you will fall in love
with all of that.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 7:32 PM UTC
Telephones.
Earphones.
Earplugs.
To drown out
Baby cries.
Engines exhaling.
Anxiety.
"Don't be afraid"
"You've done this before"
"He knows what he's doing"
The tired.
The disagreeable.
The impossibly experienced.
Tickets.
Bags.
Smile-free faces.
I'm ready.
You're ready.
Let's go already.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 5:36 PM UTC
Quite a picture of a happy woman ... in love ... or falling in love perhaps - two rows across me. Her earphones are plugged to her ears, but she is listening to no song. She is busy; typing messages - perhaps whatsapp!. Someone is teasing her ... must be quite adept at it. It has to be a boy ... not yet her boyfriend. Her smile ... her blushes ... are giving away the truths hidden in their secret flirtations.
She has to wrack her wits ... she must win this war of words. She purses her lips and her cheeks cave into a lovely dimple .... that flattered glitter in her eyes has enough for a novel to begin. She is determined to reply to this message and is scanning the lounge through the corner of her eyes as if we have a cue to offer. Her head tilts and a strand of hair falls across her temple curling in a single curve from her thick eye brows to her lips, presently secured between a thoughtful bite of her teeth.
The dimples are back again ... and her smile tells me that she finally has won this conversation ... and my mind tells me that while the war of words is her to win ... she has pleasurably lost the battle of hearts.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 6:54 AM UTC
You walk into the room with your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked and you say, "Who is that man?"
You try so hard but you don't understand
Just what you will say when you get home
Because something is happening here but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You raise up your head and you ask, "Is this where it is?"
And somebody points to you and says, "It's his"
And you say, "What's mine?" and somebody else says, "Well, what is?"
And you say, "Oh my God, am I here all alone?"
But something is happening and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You hand in your ticket and you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you when he hears you speak
And says, "How does it feel to be such a freak?"
And you say, "Impossible!" as he hands you a bone
And something is happening here but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You have many contacts among the lumberjacks
To get you facts when someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect, anyway they already expect you to all give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations
Ah, you've been with the professors and they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have discussed lepers and crooks
You've been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You're very well-read, it's well-known
But something is happening here and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you and then he kneels
He crosses himself and then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice, he asks you how it feels
And he says, "Here is your throat back, thanks for the loan"
And you know something is happening but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Now, you see this one-eyed ****** shouting the word "Now"
And you say, "For what reason?" and he says, "How"
And you say, "What does this mean?" and he screams back, "You're a cow!
Give me some milk or else go home"
And you know something's happening but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Well, you walk into the room like a camel, and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket and your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law against you comin' around
You should be made to wear earphones
'Cause something is happening and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 12:54 PM UTC
"Isang stored card po."
Sabay abot ng 100piso.
Pinasok sa makina "toot".
Bumaba sa hagdan.
"Hay, nakakpagod."
Nakita ang mahabang pila ng mga taong nagaantay.
Napa-buntong hininga.
5...10...15minuto wala pa din.
Ako'y lumingon sa kanan't kaliwa.
Inobserbahan ang mga taong iritable na sa pagaantay.
Sa kaliwa, nakita ko ang isang lalaki,
Postura, nakasalamin at kagalang galang ang suot.
Mukha nagtatrabaho sa isang malakingkumapanya at may mataas na posisyon.
Abala sa pagtingin sa relos na rolex ang tatak.
Ako'y napatanong sa sarili ko,
"bakit niya mas piniling pumila dito kung saan malulukot ang suot na barong?"
Sa kanan naman ay isang studyanteng binata,
Naka-uniporme, maangas ang dating.
May naksaksak na earphones sa magkabilang tenga at sumasabay ang indak ng mga paa.
Nais ko sana makihati sa musikang kanya naririnig.
Sa likod ko ay isang babae,
Napapamura na sa inis.
Mukhang malalate na sa opisina.
Naka-make up at nakheels.
Gusto ko siya bulangan,
"Ate, kalma lang. Hindi mapapabilis ng pagmumura mo ang pagdating nian."
At sa wakas dumating na,
Ang hinihintay ng lahat.
Inihanda ko na ang sarili,
dahil sigurado ako ay maitutulak, masisiksik,
matatapakan at masisiko sa loob ng train ng MRT.
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 1:08 PM UTC
From afar I admire you
your beauty and your grace
the way you push hair behidn your ear that has fallen to your face
your brillance..you're o so intelligent
the way you speak in class
so bold and without fear
the sparkle for learning in your eyes
that look so pure and clear
All of these things, only perceived by me from afar
I wish to know yout thoughts
likes, dislikes, and hobbies
your opinion on politics
Do you about the trees?
What is your faith?
Do you have pets?
Your favorite book, movie, food.
What is it that you are passionate about?
My dear Brazil
I want to talk to you
To obtain all the answer to every question I wish to ask you
This morning in the rain you were only a few feet away
all alone were you
But my feet, they would not move
So I did not go to you
Instead I watched my Beautiful Brazil place her earphones in her ear
We could have talked and laughed
But we didn't cause I am ruled by fear
Alas, My Beautiful Brazil
I am not your average admirer
No, not at all
But until I gather up the courage
The strength to loose my fear
I'll admire you from afar
My Beautiful Brazil
Aug 10, 2012
Aug 10, 2012 at 12:45 PM UTC
iPad Love
4:49 AM, and by the light of the silvery moon
and our iPad screens turned down low,
we snuggle side by side, our fingers glide so softly upon each,
each of our own devices, this technique,
it could be an app, teaching how to caress a human being.
No need to tell you in sound, out loud,
how you turn my heart upside down,
I'll just post a note of appreciation on Facebook,
you will see it faster, and besides, you got your earphones on and
could not hear my sweet nothings if I screamed them in high definition.
The newspaper arrives on the electric "doorstep" -
no longer will do we venture outside in
pink bathrobes and curlers, or boxer shorts,
a legal gesture of neighborly disdain.
Americana, losing another icon, as well as
insuring the unemployment of thousands of newspaper deliverers,
boys and girls, on bicycles, their first job, now obsolescent.
Your feet, so cozy and warm, touching mine,
the sensation, lovely and fine, duly recorded in a poem
that on my iPad I scribble, as my typos disappear, out of sight.
your ear, I nibble, something you hate and I love,
but electronically, it's done with no fuss or muss, and
I don't even have to move!
Sadly, I can find no app that will bring the warmth
of a cup of coffee to my night table, and the gun metal casing of
this invention is chilly, but still Steve, with almost God like vision,
you brought us closer in ways prior unimagined.
So baby,
shut it down,
turn me on,
make me warm for real,
glide your now practiced fingertips on my grizzled cheek,
whisper a phony "ugh,"
cause I know, you will read
this iPad love poem
and cherish us for evermore.
Nothing, something, even as thin as my iPad 2(!)
will come between us and the holiness, the uniqueness of
the human touch.
2011
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 4:30 PM UTC
sometimes
i put on my earphones
and turn my music on
playing all the sad songs
that remind me of you
and i cry until i cannot
sometimes
i wish you'd just return
and love me once again
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
Amidst shuffling playlists
I took out my earphones today
Decided to listen to the music of the breeze.
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 8:22 PM UTC
I love mysteries
but not just the type
printed in black ink
in binded books
I enjoy the mysteries
that walk
that contain a set of lost eyes
whose lips speak words
in a particular voice
whose ears always have earphones
whose mind drifts off
whose face of concentration
is something quite beautiful
I like that kind of mystery
whose laugh is unique
whose smile is a rarity
and has rarely spoken
to me
we only speak with our eyes
exchanging wondrous stares.
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 8:06 PM UTC
Earphones pumping rhythms to keep apace to.
Relaxed, steady, determined one leg at a time.
Hedgerows gliding past, forever long.
Blood pumping, harder stronger faster.
Chest is heaving, struggling gasping.
Back is tense, muscles constantly contracted.
Focussing on anything else but breathing
Impossible,yet it is lovely.
Like an old friend, thoughtlessness embraces me.
Caressing and Familiar.
Jul 8, 2011
Jul 8, 2011 at 11:51 AM UTC
my cat bit my earphones
i am a person who commutes everyday with my earphones on. i listen to music and i dance to it. doing what seem to be small jerks to the public but a series of big and grand moves in my head. i was a dancer.
but my cat bit my earphones.
i hum the tunes ever so softly only to find out the stares from the people i ignored the whole ride, could hear me. i was a singer.
a silent performer.
for the audience of none.
and yes, my cat bit my earphones.
i am a person who can’t live without it. i listen to music and i zone in. i cancel all the thoughts in my head and just be. in the midst of beats, melodies, harmonies, and lyrics i was at peace. the maximum volume became my version of quiet.
and yet my cat bit my earphones.
the cheapskate in me stops me everyday from buying a new pair even if in exchange i’d have to embrace a new kind of quiet.
the quiet shared by the people i commute with:
the roaring engines, the horns of cars following no beat at all, the shouting of the barkers and conductors rapping with no flow. i hear everything. i was a listener.
a loud performance
for the audience of one.
all because my cat bit my earphones.
i blame my cat everyday for this punishment. i love my cat but sometimes i wish she could pay for it or even apologize for that matter. but i have no choice but to continue my everyday commute without my earphones.
**** my cat bit my earphones.
the thoughts i can’t mute when i commute now screams loudly begging me to listen. begging me to write them down. begging me to finally piece together all the words i know will make sense when given time. i am a writer.
i just can’t help myself but think that my cat bit my earphones.
now i am a person who commutes everyday without my earphones on. i listen to my head and i feel it. putting together ideas and emotions that may seem unpolished to me but could be something great to the public once heard. i am an artist.
a performer.
for the audience, i’m the one.
all because my cat bit my earphones.
Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 5:02 AM UTC
you get so used to something;
to someone;
never expect them to abandon you
though you condoned their departure
you saw it coming
it was all experienced yesterday
except, then
it was only a distant speck
you brushed away the dust you kicked up and
ignored the arguments that weighed on your conscience
you saw it coming
yet it still hits you like a freight train
with your back to it;
your earphones in
because you were trying to enjoy a walk
on such dangerous tracks;
such thin ice
you saw it coming
so what choice do you now have
but to finally collapse;
to let it run you over
and let your
omniscient bones
break?
you saw it coming,
but you let it hit you anyway.
please, get out of the way next time.
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 1:12 AM UTC
I get edgy sometimes-
When I see knots-
I freeze up.
I get upset when I try to untangles them-
Like earphones and other audio cords-
Auxiliaries, usbs and inputs.
I get frustrated-
Easily with entanglement-
I hate knots but.
Our bodies could be a knot, that I wouldn't want to untangle.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
A ride in the metro
is always an adventure.
Getting coins for departure.
Waiting for the trains.
with baggage in hands.
Roughed up buns.
Messed shirts.
Oversized sweaters.
skinny jeans.
converse shoes.
Green bag.
Glasses on.
earphones in.
The metro runs like a bird
running for rescue
of her child in trouble.
Blows off all the hair.
trying to gather balance,as
it almost blew me off.
getting in is a mission.
for first timers like me,
we like to be polite
and let others get in
and get out
before we could.
even if it meant you have to
wait for another to come in.
Getting in was an
ACCOMPLISHMENT.
with all people staring at you.
like you are welcomed as
an angel in hell.
i manage to get a hold of a handle.
surviving till your stop is
horrendous.
ranging from
smelly armpits
to foul smelled oiled hair
to watching cheap gel
used on scanty hair,
to seeing weird chick humming songs
as if nobody;s watching them lip sync
as if they were
auditioning fro their life's
biggest concert
to people staring you
like you'll just get *****
to guys reading scandalous and
****** news
deeply interested
to people who like it
when girls fall on them.
Its a funny trip.
to girls talking about how
romantic is their friend's boyfriend
to couples getting an excuse
to get close to each other
and holding hands.
Wow.
A metro ride is
a new adventure
altogether.
everyday.New people.
New places.
New experiences.
NEW life.
NEW everything.
I liked it today.
for a change.
sigh.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 9:50 AM UTC
i pull in to work
pour in the door like a refugee
fumble in my bag for a
microchipped key fob.
it lets me in the third entrance,
slurring curses that reverb in the hall.
i stumble to my desk, clock in
with my computerized time card
and make my way to the coffee ***
it always has this smirk, like it knows
it's my saving grace.
i hate the coffee *** for that.
i hate the coffee ***
insert earphones
High Violet by The National.
sounds penetrate my ears and swirl
in my head,
sending sparks from the microchip
situated just behind my eyes
that tells me there are only grades and work
and television and pin-up girls.
monday morning, i will file a complaint against
myself
i need truth through camera lens
i need honesty
i need deeper meaning
a drunk girl kissed me under gilded mistletoe
once
when i was 16.
i need more than that.
Dec 10, 2010
Dec 10, 2010 at 2:40 PM UTC
Inspector Dork was not pleased with himself
he had interrogated everyone in the house
only to be knocked down by
impenetrable alibi
Spouse Susan slept soundly through the night
and was awakened in the morn
when the alarm bell rang in his room
Daughter Debby's room was a floor down
she was up with her studies
plugged to earphones
Son Simon was out for the night
he was at his friend's place
for a birthday party
Maid Maddie made his bed
when the clock in his master's room
was chiming ten
Butler Bill having served a glass of milk
closed the door behind him
and retired for the night.
Inspector Dork was about to leave the victim's room
when his eyes fell on the clock pendulum
it was not swinging
he knew who was lying.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 8:06 AM UTC
What kind of music does he like
I would like to know
By the hopes I'll get a glimpse
Of his soul
— I wrote this at the back of my wrist
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 5:35 AM UTC
It's like
the people of the world
are strangers to each other.
Pass by and you'll find
no wave, no smile, no hello.
They've got their hands full.
With their phones and their antisocial,
with their earphones that clog their ears,
blocking them from the world.
Just the way they like it.
With their makeup,
covering everything about them.
Even their smile,
even their eyes that once connected,
even their face they no longer want seen.
They got no time for others.
They spend all their days with their robots.
They got no time for interaction,
unless it's the kind with the Internet.
It's like
every stranger in this world
forgot how to be social,
how to be friendly,
how to be kind,
how to be human.
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 9:12 PM UTC