"eject" poems
Stumbling into ancient scripts, authored a decades plus ago,
ago being a modifier of time quantities, minute or large, unspecific
without an objective adjective additive, that faucets a stream of an interlocutory elocution of a batter of rooted emotional histories,
but not histrionics
fanciful words for dredged up memories, acute, but tarnished,
powered yet worn by a cousin of ago, a/k/a,
age
and yet
renews as of,
at this very second, as if it were a first, a tumult of visions, swelling of remembrances, embodied scars, and I weep anew but not
for me, as much for the resonating simpatico souls with whom
they even now vibrate with resonance of the immediacy of
If not now, When?
Aside: The exterior environment is noisy wet pelting of thunderstorms and ****** sheets of bulleting rain, piercing projectiles, but I am safe in the sunroom, sadly happy my dog is no longer here to shiver and tremble, cuddle and be soothed by steady stroking
But I am here, wrestling with this dredging operation, digging up
tons of sand that require dumping, and I ask, inquire, beg:
Who will take this detritus off my hands, once more, now uncovered,
now recovered, the soil is already soaked and can absorb no more,
the soul is already soaked and can absorb no more, the weakened
heart, damaged and occluded, suffer cannot bare twice the
outrageous misfortune
of unbared recollections, twice, or thrice, and I feel myself drowning in revisiting pain, **** **** **** these old poems, not nuggets, but boulders dropping from night skies, shot from a pitching machine, without letup, piercing of agonies that once ago
freshly desecrated and decorated my basic training in humanity.
Enough whining:
*I wrote those poems to
eject out those pains,
and I write this now, once more,
to realize that so so many still face
uncertain and unrelenting similarities,
doing their own sums,
and I wish them easing,
strength to compose and
thereby dispose of
the ineloquent
and eloquent
words of staining suffering*
3:30am
Thur
July 10
2025
Jul 16, 2025
Jul 16, 2025 at 5:39 PM UTC
If you grasp tight to your
individualism,
Give in to all the
romanticism,
Rid of any
materialism,
Confide within
professionalism,
Drop all acts of
favoritism,
Eject from any
vulgarism,
Open up to
socialism,
Advocate
activism,
Realize you are an
organism,
Forget about any
perfectionism,
And explore inside
transcendentalism,
You will look up into complete
mesmerism
of how all the stars are
symbolism
for the billion versions of
creationism
that you've ever lived,
and will live.
Sep 13, 2011
Sep 13, 2011 at 8:57 PM UTC
Aibo Yewena!
Phela ngisakuthanda
Ngikucabanga ngize ngibone ikhanda lam'
selinezandla,
Ngibone ikhanda lam' seliyi CEO,
Mengcabanga wena Ikhanda lam' liba
uPrincipal,
Liyangiphatha. Ngizwa bethi uthatha ama
applications. Ngiyakucela phela love le CAO
engifakile ayibe successful. Angifune reject
phela le Degree yoThando lwakho ngyayfuna
Noma ngasayenzanga icourse yokuba istraight I
right neye side chick, sengiyo modifyer next
year.
Uyi status seFeleb yini? Coz I like You!
Kuthi angifanise inhliziyo yami ne DVD wena
uyi player, wa pressa u open wayifaka I CD
wathi close isadlala kamnandi wapressa u eject!
Aibo kanti unjani player?
Aibo Yewena!
Aibo Yewena uthi awungilahlekelanga njer?
Ngoba namanje inhliziyo yami isakufuna
Aibo my top deck! Namanje ngisakuhalela,
kodeke ngizokuphonela just ukbingelela noma
ngikuhayele. Aibo Yewena!
Ngisalifuna namanje leliya fosholo, phela wena
usaqala ukungibona you were digging me
Lol hhhe
Uthi Ongumnini wena ungowami
Ngiyamzonda lowathi love is a matter of
chemistry
Phela manje wena you treat me like toxic waste
Wena ngikufanisa neRadio edlala imicibilisho,
ungizwisile ubuhlungu!
Wazenza iskhothane ngami washiya inhliziyo
yami idabukile
I miss you, angisakwazi muntu usebona
ngamakhasi nje ukuthi usaPeeler
Ukube bengazi ukuthi wena ungizela nge earth
quake kuloluthando uzo zama zama, bengeke
ngiqale!
Ngicela inhliziyo yami niyinqume izandla, kuze
izoyeka ukuthanda lomuntu!
Aibo bafena lomuntu iphilisi! Somebody take
me to a doctor I've overdosed!
Ngane YeLanga, ukukbona nje could brighten
my day
Shuthi uthando lwethu beluyiGenerations,
sekuphele iytori
Aibo Yewena
Month end yami engiholela ekufeni
Ngisakuthanda namanjer
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 8:48 PM UTC
Whilst walking down the street
I heard a thunderous tweet;
'Twas a straining little bird
Who couldn't pass a ****
The little thing was constipated,
Its **** wide dilated;
Tweeting loudly in mid-bog,
Trying to eject a log.
I observed with sympathetic heart
As it trumpeted out a ****
Straining, chirping loud and long,
Letting off a foul and noisome pong.
I watched for nigh an hour
Its display of **** power;
Then a final intestinal pump
Produced a huge great steaming lump:
A mighty ball of faeces
(a giant of its species,
and total bumhole splitter
which shattered its feathered *******
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 4:44 PM UTC
What is it that you're thinking
tell me what you
ponder
while you watch me
doubled over.
As you watch me doubled over
heaving
bile
and spit
and breakfasts meal.
Does it disgust you when I choke
and cough
eject
half digested
----not even fully digested----
nutrition from my
acid scarred throat?
Or do you just stand there
feeling nothing.
Oct 7, 2010
Oct 7, 2010 at 5:41 PM UTC
Apathy
Don’t tell me how to feel, when I feel like this;
Don’t tell me that you’re happy, when I’m so depressed.
Don’t sit there with your girlfriend, giving her a kiss;
Because I just don’t care, about your life of bliss.
I do not care for your sympathy,
Because I live in a town called Apathy.
The town of no-hopers and the town I’m in;
The ****** little town called Apathy.
So don’t sit there with a smile upon your face.
Don’t dare utter those words:
‘The world is such an amazing place.’
Because I live in the rain and I feel like ****
The sun never shines down on Apathy.
So I do not care for your sympathy,
Because I live in a town called Apathy.
The town of no-hopers and the town I’m in;
The ****** little town called Apathy.
If you feel the same as me;
Or you live in a town like Apathy.
A town of losers; a town of ****
Then come with me down to Apathy.
Let’s take it over and change a few things.
Let’s welcome only rockers and eject all the trendies.
Let’s all sit down and smoke a spliff.
Let’s drink tequila and rock a few riffs.
I do not care for your sympathy,
Because I live in a town, called Apathy.
The town of no-hopers and the town I’m in;
The ****** little town called Apathy…
Yeah, I live in a town called Apathy,
And it has become like home to me,
For I never want to live outside Apathy,
Because I only care about, the cool people and me.
(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
i smoke cigarettees too **** much.
this is how you know nothing original will be said in this poem.
i use cigarettes as a social crutch.
i don't know about you
but when i'm in the mood to be honest
i'll tell you
i smoke cigarettes because
i want to be 'cool'.
because let's be honest:
i can't think of
a poet
a musician
an actor
an olympic swimmer
a hockey player
a president
a priest
a ****
a serial killer
or a psychiatrist
that's worth mentioning
that did not smoke
yes, i know you can
and go ahead,
but let me first
make a point instead
let me be honest,
if i can smoke a cigarette
and maybe be alone for
5.75 minutes
then maybe
a thought will occur to me
something outside this ******** world
and it will be good enough to write down,
just maybe.
let me be honest
i don't need you
with your judgemental eyes
and your cursory glances
walk away from me
at a party
i don't miss you
i am with her.
i garauntee if you asked
Whitman
Hemmingway
Freud
Phelps
Obama
about their actual relationship with smoking tobacco
they would have similiar descriptions.
but go ahead, tell me
about the hazardous effects of cigarettes
let's talk about the cancer
and the tar
and the disgusting phlem
that i will constantly have to eject
from my throat-hole
when i'm fifty.
go ahead, tell me about
******* people over
and ripping their minds out
and the sickness
and the disease
and how it's all so wrong.
it's as amusing to me as it is to you.
Mcdonald's will **** you.
Pall Mall will **** me.
Nov 5, 2011
Nov 5, 2011 at 12:34 AM UTC
I seen a empty bottle in the trash.
There was also napkins next to the trash.
I wondered how many people use these napkins..
It's stated recycle. Recycle what ? Trees? Regurgitated garbage we eat over and over again ? How do we still have a mountain of trash. Plato and Socrates knew something. Perhaps eject it to space. Maybe we can **** our ozone if we just burn it. Cause earth swallows anything including pasts and futures. Who's in control of Earth's health. Cause we **** on it. And that bottle... Of course is full of **** and vinegar. Release all tension and let's rise to the stratosphere. Floating cities above Earth's gravity.. no pulling of our new system down. Elisium on the moon. Perhaps a ride in a roller coaster to the darkside will thrill you more. Maybe it's not as cold and chilling as we thought.. and Earth's warmth and feelings will make a change like a landmass arise or one to fall..
I've fell many times. Now I've married the other half of my mind.
People climbing out of oceans asking about ships.. but my dreamscape makes me the hero in my pirate flag informaniac boom. Cannons and truth. My voice in thought and control of the room.
I blow horns like harps of trains and riots of mind boggling facts. I am and Lord knows Jesus will help me like a snub nose I tuck. I'll play gangster while my inner ghost fires the bullets..
I'm not violent as what sin runs in his blood. I'm just everything else and it's time I leave after passing and giving peace to my son. His family is mine and we deserve heaven.. same as 144 thousand.. all for order of the Bright Apollo flights and fry minds in a hystaria historical society of terror. Longer days hotter with white out snow. Raining tears and explicit when our children explore.
Yes I ********** .. it's better then the alternative.. making more humans live... rebirth and love now Is in a different narrative.
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 4:24 AM UTC
Intensity for you wavers not
Your lips pure *******
Love stronger than the drugs
Coursing through my shallow veins
I am searching for a way to repair
That will stop gnawing emptiness
I swear there's no fairness in this world
I am waiting, I only see less and less
Contentment is clearly decreasing
Do not know where it keeps on running to
Am tracking with the tools I have
Navigation here is hard to do
Thoughts and devoted feelings intersect
Wish my mind was a blank slate
Yearn to eject unsavory parts
Pull out of this unhealthy state
I will be addicted to you for life
Inhale the smoke that makes up who you are
Sweet smell of nostalgia and lost intimacy
I face the pain of another scar
Terrible remains will be all that is left
Part of me forever gone and departed
Human weakness flows through my blood
You are a drug I wish I had never started
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 8:48 AM UTC
I’m trying harder than I ever have before
here, today, now
to **** you in all at once,
and then eject you from my chest
with the force of eleven crumbling mountains.
I don’t want to know you anymore
and I want
to forget how you stammer when you’re excited
and have a closet full of comic books, but you
have a whole bedroom filled with cracked skeletons,
as if skeletons weren’t broken enough already.
Today, here, now is the last time
I will wash you out of my hair,
and use your first name in poems,
it’s the last time I’ll let my heart palpitate
when you mention her name.
Today, here, now is the last time
I’ll breathe you out, slowly but I promise you, today,
and I swear to God, it may take eleven shots
of ***** chased with *** but today,
I will inhale and exhale you
for the last time.
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 7:44 PM UTC
From your straight hair to
the outfits you wear,
that black leather shoe pair,
even the "no makeup" makeup flair.
Everything about you seems perfect, I swear!
Your sweet fine face and my feelings resurrect,
supercilious smile with power that anyone may deflect
even the cute pimple on your face that eject,
moreover the positive vibes you reflect.
**** everything about you seems perfect.
The way you smile,
eyes almost closed, hiding teeth quarter mile,
my heart skips beats for a while,
the way you tie up your hair in that quirky style,
your eccentric figure and that side profile,
orotund low voice gonna put me on trial.
Upbeat personality and attitude you project,
Girl everything about you seems just Perfect!
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 7:20 AM UTC
my propensity
to manifest demons into people
consistently projecting
the tragedies of my own imagination
into other people
my desire to eject
leaves me like the cockroaches
hungry and filthy
but i didn’t make me
right?
theres nothing in me that wants it
why can’t i starve
the deep hate
eat the world’s abundance
decadent and I, undeserving
i’m tired of not feeling something
only feeling nothing
drive my skin against the walls
that i built up
just to long for them to fall
but it’s not me
no accountability
ready
it’s you and me
i need purity
to know you want me
not just me in you
you make me feel nothing close of void
sleep with me
just me
i promise i don’t see
Feb 7, 2021
Feb 7, 2021 at 10:15 PM UTC
I awakened to the humans discussing their evil plans
French fries, sweet potato, baked potato,
I WOULD SHOW THEM… THE POWER OF POTATOES
I said my goodbyes to my mother, as she lay lifeless on the plate
I can fly, I can fly, I can fly
spread my wings, and FLY LIKE A UNICORN
I fell face down on the kitchen ground.
EJECT THE HIPPO
those were the words I heard last from my humans
A hippo fell flat onto me
Its dark now.. I feel like mash potatoes
my wings are soar
my invisible wings are soar
the hippo whispered to me
you’re gonna go far kid
I was about to smile
then I realised that he just gave me a song suggestion
dang it
what could a potato do?
I flew up to the human’s room
I flew around her room
the last words I heard..
were…
A
POTATO
FLEW
AROUND
MY
ROOM
BEFORE
YOU
CAME
then, I flew into a wall, my ending bitter sweet, but my wish had come true
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
So far down
and too far gone.
Higher than life on Drunken stupidity,
Hallucination versus Reality.
Just one more drag,
choke down another swig.
Borderline absent yet in full control,
only wanted a Midnight stroll.
One I Regretfully Took...
No turning back,
Unable to hit eject,
heading full-speed down a Disaster course;
YOU having no feeling of Remorse.
Denying MY lack of restraint,
unable to stop the Inevitable.
Smooth talker from the start'
unable to protect MY heart.
Where was my brain?
Curiosity got the best of YOU,
YOU took the best part of ME.
Force-Filled and Painful,
Never been more Fearful.
Took without will,
never to return again.
Left alone to Awake,
and feel the Heart Break.
Where the hell am I?
Driving home in a daze.
Unable to comprehend.
Washing away YOUR swear for an hour;
letting MY humility devour.
Broken never to be fixed,
Five therapist deep;
trying not to fade away,
but now I can finally say...
**YOU ***** ME**
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
Take me back to Chelsea please
Where the flossed and glossed smile at me
And everyone’s kind to an open mind
That’s materialistic in design.
Where locals embrace me all open armed
Whenever I’m crinkling cash in my palms.
So eject me fast from this boorish ******
And take me back to Chelsea please.
Take me back to Chelsea please
Outside the city’s financial squeeze
Where mummy and daddy pay the cheques
For my escargots and Ready Brek.
I’ll wield through the system with the family name
And use all the power of my local fame.
Oh, to live life without la joie de fees
Come take me back to Chelsea please.
Take me back to Chelsea please
To put my social norms at ease.
I miss my measly excuse of friends
Who constantly ***** to make amends
For their failed entrepreneurial careers
Their dialect a hodgepodge of gobbles and sneers.
I long for their monotonous wheeze
So take me back to Chelsea please.
Chelsea, Chelsea you’re all I adore
From the A308 to the A304.
You’re the sole nirvana I can’t bear to depart,
Your femmes fatales know the paths to my heart.
But you will always have the its lock and key
So Chelsea: come and take me back please.
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 5:47 PM UTC
I'd grab a knife and let it tear through my flesh
to rip out this inner strife if it wouldn't lead to my death.
My soul shivers he beats on his chest in fact that's why I breathe
on this ****** to try and relax. My mind is stretched to the max
my head needs to detach, my soul needs to eject.
Hotheaded armed with an icepick.
Hacking away at this ice that my spine grips.
My thoughts are confined in a space as small as my iris
and I'm behind iron bars of anxiety that I constantly have to fight with.
I've become a mass murderer, locked in a psychiatric ward as I **** my parts within, erasing my kin, the ink from the teardrops darkens my skin.
Fallen to sin. My world in the dark. A void shaped like a heart.
Yet this Tinman retaliates against the wizard of Oz!
My torch an everburning question mark
answers? That's the past but Life throwing hooks so I HAVE to dodge.
Hits exit Pause-my-world which I create so I can spit back in the face of God!
You awoke a sleeping giant, a savage beast, a lion
My soul roars everytime you see me sighin
I won't ignore these tidings
A frozen force is rising
Close to war my broken core redefines defiance.
So I will stand my ground and fight
go bar for bar with life.
Proudly wear these battlescars
you'll be astounded by my might
A star upon my sky
My reach is long and wide
You see I'm strong you're weak and wrong
I no longer hide
Because I don't have a mind
I am guided by the light
my sight set on my rage
replace my blood with hate
bleed and rust and easily crush
this tyrant in my cage.
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
Herr Stimmung—purblind—moves in corporeal time.
Think how many, by now, have escape the world's memory.
Think, how all his wandering is only thought. Having once tried to
live in the quasi-stupor of sensation, now he picks his way through
areas of spilth, seeking the least among infinite evils.
His hope: intermittent.
To a person so little conscious, what would it mean to die? Though
he feels, true enough, death's wither-clench. Thinking always of
something permanent, watching the while how everything goes on
changing.
He has seen where Speed is buried. Eyes exorbitant.
He has the tension of male and female: active, divided. Anger and
lust. What he eats tastes exactly like real food.
He would search out interphenomena, if he could decipher the
interstices. The broken line. Immediate havoc. Circular heaven.
Square earth. He cries world world, and there is no world.
He claims superiority over the other animals, being the only one
who can talk, the only one to have doubts.
Herr Stimmung knows a whale is big. Its skeleton might shelter a
dozen men.
Not existing, not subsisting—insisting. Not object, not subject—
eject. (He works within opposed systems, every one of them opposed
to system.)
"Fillette"—in confusion he addresses himself—"n'allez pas au bois
seulette."
He knows who is allowed to wear what kinds of beads. He knows
how fruit trees are inherited. All his self-objects lie in the inoperative
past.
Herr Stimmung springs from a long undocumented ancestry.
He has a special attitude towards terror.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 12:25 AM UTC
Transcend from society, eject into space
look in the mirror and you wont see you face
eject from reality into the great green plains
in the woods, is their a god?
in the woods, you don't think hard
oh sweet mother nature, transcend me from space
O' sweet, let me see your face
for the time has come, to float all above
past fake gods, past the cosmos
into to nothing where non- existence takes place
then you will never see your face
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 10:12 AM UTC
Play
overdoing
overworking
overthinking
overeating
overdrinking
Pause
the leftovers
of me
always lying
over here
over there
Eject
my seat
overseas
Game over.
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC
Spider
Walking into a corridor of neatly aligned cobwebs,
that have your history strewn across, like telephone wires
intertwining and intersecting,
Making all the conversations and voices interweave,
crossing paths - causing a disruption in the line,
the static disturbances echoing through the dark corridor
embellished with these cobwebs that have been lost in your mind.
The cobwebs speak like conversations
from broken telephone poles
that are overlapping and confusing the mind,
muddled and disarrayed, lacking any sense.
time has consumed these thoughts,
leaving bits and pieces,
that only mislead you
You swing across paving new paths with silken threads,
crisp and new, like adhesive,
glistening with prosperity.
Yet you keep these deep rooted cobwebbed memories
locked in your mind,
like Pandora’s box ready to unravel.
So just let them retire,
they have fallen and become undone,
and now they just collect
dust from your memories
Reminding you of thoughts,
that are specked and flecked
with dusty recollections.
Those worn out thoughts can no longer collect,
they only eject,
tangled stories confusing you
and bemusing you
So don’t collect
your abandoned webs,
like a memory book - they are no longer relevant,
they were just webs you wove to learn
how to weave the web you now conceive,
strong and secure,
fully capable to endure.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 3:21 PM UTC
He read me my precautions
Only removing my own decay
In return his novocaine
Don't you worry about nerve endings,
They'll splinter up eject themselves away
In time you'll teach yourself to capsulate the pain,
Just sign your essence away,
I'll give you more novocaine.
"Sometimes it's better not to feel"
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
Tufted ethereality, angelism of stock and store
pedestrian...alas, circusy.
Helm of streets bob...our supplicant pulls out
a mile or two of scripture from an enormous
pocket.
Fingers ink-blotted with grime, bent forth striding--
a heedless Beethoven tuned in immaculately.
Array's arrival stunned with scurry...planets of
conveyance pull at their elliptical wiring.
Some rare gigantism to the tenth of powers has
touched everything...all he could do from
going where he's arrived is futile.
From time immemorial, he...at present, its full
possessor!
What convoluted theorem of probability will
forcibly eject him from eureka...from where he's
vaporized his wears...naught...naught!
Some precipice's nudge knew best the wind for
his thought to take to, a majestic soar pealing the
spheres to show them their shape.
Life has exemplified its frugal capacity to him--
simmering creation tucked away for one fine day.
He, to outlive the closing energy that dances him,
an immortal...to be handled with care...with
universal intelligence--be, has let him...loosed.
He's broken the code of things in and of themselves...
he's a thing in and of himself--the Unitative factor erupts.
As the credits of glory pull upward...so he as them.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
come wash your sin with me,
i am a flightless soul covered in gossamer
i am love in the form of locks
you cannot unchain with bared teeth
and bare skin and the blade
of the twisted dagger strapped against your thigh
i adore your spirit but i do not
adore you. i am a capricious madness
drink me to excess if you so wish
me to be—a cold chestful of chemical smoke
a sink full of the remnants of
an unborn child, eject me
i am unwanted, i am a wanted hallelujah
with a swollen-gum smile in every
lithographed dead or alive poster, please save me
please buy black water lilies
for my funeral the priest won’t attend
please let the worms make homes out of my
gaping throat, and i shall whisper unto
you. one last time. it will be done
unto your will without wisdom
i am corruption in the form of conscience
i am the riptide washing away your firstborn son
with the taste of ****** verona.
Jan 23, 2022
Jan 23, 2022 at 5:01 PM UTC