"elective" poems
mother.-
"why can you spend so much time
writing all this sappy bullcrap
but cannot study hard
to get good
grades?"
math teacher, senior high school.-
"why do you write such good poetry
but **** so bad
at math?"
acquantainces/maybe friends, anygradeinanyschool.-
"hey
your poetry sounds pretty good
i just
don't understand
what you are trying
to say."
writing instructor, free elective course, college.-
"your poetry is really good
for someone whose first language is
not english."
lover.-
"you are good at writing poetry,
but besides that,
you just seem clueless
almost
dumb
most of the time
you cannot hear
what i say
nor can you understand
much of it.
it seems like
you are lost
in your own world,
have conversation with me
in your head."
i want to blame all these people
for making me think
i must be really good
at poetry
for i hardly am
in anything else
that actually
matters.
Feb 18, 2011
Feb 18, 2011 at 2:59 PM UTC
Fermented undergarments
farmers markets, Targets, turn tarnish!
An angle of self-righteousness moves to left.
.
a group of cleft palates peel all the way back for the attic
after a thousand years of theft. (Arent you in awe?)
when hairless hands wrap and grab Tef – lon
get on one of the seven horses.
Hercules the matter seems urgent
Please
create morses.
.
Your Torsos show their bland position
portable valves, three of horse pistons.
so if they want violence, they certainly will achieve.
shout above the crowd and call for former foreigners – roll up sleeves.
in the white and black reality
we flee once we believe
.
but perfection is a perspective
the artist is just an elective and a given
IN GETTING BITTEN BY THE SOCIAL TAPE WORM –
we let the world squirm -
and turn
tighter in silky cob webs
the spider traps and they took laps
‘til the insect bled out
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC
He said “Cult of Simultaneity”
in such a sultry way
it made we want to kiss him
in that “Gay guys are attracted to me”
sort of way.
An English major taking an
upper level history course
as an elective—
When he smiled at you
in one-on-one conversation
his Irish emerald eyes gleamed between
slits (as he squinted his eyes
in a merry, amiable way).
He wore silk dress shirts and vests
every day with pressed tapered
black dress pants and
gleaming black oxfords.
His well-trimmed red beard
enwreathing the doorway to his mouth
made his lips (full, lush;
I swear they were glossed)—
evermore tantalizing.
I gave him a cute nickname
that was just his name shortened
but with a y, like Jimmy
and Bobby and
I hope he liked it—
He spoke with such finesse
carefully enunciating every syllable
running his tongue smoothly
across his teeth lips and
the roof of his mouth
free of spit and stutter—
every phoneme imbued
with his placid charm,
I ate every crumb
with my eyes glued to him
across the classroom—
Vain and straight,
straight in vain.
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 5:11 PM UTC
I no longer wanna be a hypocrite
So I no longer wanna talk
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 11:18 AM UTC
The inaudible ebb and flow of your ‘sorry’s and ‘goodbye’s,
A mere ringing in my ears.
Speak lines of knowing Pain’s associates,
You are his main elective.
Stop stalking me you meat hungry wolf, stop ranging this land,
No life grows here, nothing can be saved or even forgiven.
Hypocrite,
You mockingbird,
You crow,
You jackal,
You cold blooded husk.
Stop singing,
Those words were meant for angels not harpies.
-May 28th 2013
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 12:15 AM UTC
Selective, elective, feigning acceptance
Nodding your head in that knowing way
“It’s just a phase” isn’t just a phrase
With every passing day your ignorance tests my patience
Forgiveness is a virtue
But you “forgiving” me for what I am
Doesn’t make you a better person than
those who hate, discriminate, separate us as wrong
Why can’t you wrap your head
Around what I’ve said
I like boys, I like girls
And yet even my own community hurls
Misinformation and false narration
LGBTQ
LGBTQ
Bisexuality is valid
We aren’t confused or indecisive
This shouldn’t be divisive
You dare to say
That we shouldn’t stay
Because we have the “choice” of being “normal?”
When did bisexuality become not gay enough
When did bisexuality become not gay enough
When did bisexuality become not gay enough
I don’t mean to be callous
But bisexuality is valid
Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 1:47 PM UTC
There was a Promise For Two
I am here, because, there was a promise for two.
It was a commitment to their bond,
a mutual elective.
But Maria’s beam disappeared after five hours.
Separated from mother’s womb,
her innocence was unable to endure the rigors
of an indifferent world,
She was suppose to be daddy’s little girl,
Mommy’s alter image and brother’s shining star.
Soft....angelic.
Their expectations converted to muted despair.
A balanced homecoming became questionable.
and over time, insurmountable.
The heartaches began to escalate, and eventually barricade concern for the mysteries destiny.
Tears fell, for what never would be,
tears for dreams,
and tears for abandoned dreams,
tears for Maria.
Two years past
and I was the one chosen to replace her shadow.
Conceived to witness the hearts vacuum.
To kneel, with my back straight, next to an older brother before the hallowed space,
where, under the tightly packed sod, among uniformed columns of god’s beloved children,
sweet Maria lies in peaceful repose by the stone Grotto.
My adolescent hands squeezed the polished silver,
as they pounded the cross into the unforgiving earth.
I pondered my existence, while questioning my replanted tangibility,
trying to comprehend the equity of life through a spectral identity,
and wondering where my place might be, if my sister had prevailed and flourished.
One day, I returned to place a wooden crucible where the silver once glimmered in the sun.
I marked her name in burnt lettering.
Again, the effort was pilfered by the same callous world
Maria’s tiny fingers refused to touch.
There was never coherence, but, eventually I understood.
I am here, because, there was a promise for two
and for a small coffin,
that was lowered into the cold ground of North Arlington.
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 8:35 PM UTC
In the vastness of space
There are stars that choose
to revolve around each other.
We met -
as random as comets passing
our own paths predetermined
unwavering...
or so we thought.
With that first boyish grin
my orbit was revised.
I don't know -
was it my laugh, perhaps my smile?
that drew you in closer
to me.
Maybe it was it gravity,
or magic-
An unknown allurement
that began our
elective affinity?
Call it what you will -
the effect is undeniable...
The energy created between us
filled the air.
pulling us closer...
Coffee?
sure...
Conversation
unending...
your place?
no mine...
You drank whiskey
I prefer wine
You love this song -
so do I...
Slow dancing ~
melting into a kiss.
Statistical differences
fade into nothingness....
The warm sensation
of our hands,
learning the landscape
of the others body.
Tongues join the exploration.
Clothes leave the equation.
The energy pulling you
- into me
impossible to resist.
my orbit irrevocably changed -
forever whirling
around
you.
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 11:37 PM UTC
I’ve quit smoking 6 times,
quit drinking 4,
the intervals are
sparse and unworthy,
I wear jeans with
dainty holes
from cigarette butts,
my breath wreaks
of a mixture,
and my cologne
surmounts the
insurmountable,
I’ll look skyward on
chilled nights
and try to decipher
between smoke and breath,
I’ll purposefully wear worn socks
to give the sought useless
a purpose,
I’ll run soapy loofas
over scabbed knuckles
for punishment and end up
enjoying the sting,
I’ll tie ties to tight
and my shoes to loose,
I’ll scrutinize grammar,
and misspell because
hypocrisy makes me *****
I pick at calluses until they bleed
I’ll **** on ****** hangnails
cause I like the coppery taste,
I’ll never litter,
and I fight at bars,
I drink alone now,
but I’ve quit 4 times,
allow me to put into perspective
that quitting anything
has moved from an elective
to becoming eclectic,
and new habits,
for me, don’t replace
old ones but squeeze them in
to a car destined at a dead end,
but what doesn’t **** me now,
makes death so much sweeter
in the finale.
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 12:55 AM UTC
Too many stops. Too many pauses. Too many full stops.
When moments could have flowed fluid
Could have continued along time’s axis to unfurl experiences
Now unknown, now wondered about, now pondered on. I’m not shaken. But it’s never cathartic. It is forever suspense. It is forever remembrance.
It is not regret. I was who I was, and I am who I am. I cannot null that. It is, wishes, perhaps. It is, wanting, to exist as two, to stop, but to continue, to watch, to witness.
I am full stops; given to elective ethos and jittering convictions. And given to these full stops, I wander, wonder, what, what if, should, should have. What? Happens? After?
Jan 3, 2024
Jan 3, 2024 at 1:21 PM UTC
her bones
like splintered stone
scatter the blood of a darker self
"a high note at a low point"
eyes flicker red flames
nightmare's wine
beats the soul to the ground
in secret's place
where bodies are poems
"bodies of a puzzled lust"
Venus in furs
fractures chime and broken bell
"tell me how she hooked your mind"
staccato aphasia
trembles disrupted linearities
in a coffined mouth
as visions brim
by a mindless god's
elective horrors
in balconies of eternity
"let your hands be her hands"
vertigo falls through windows
black hole air
"the coat that covers paradise uncovers hell"
Oct 22, 2020
Oct 22, 2020 at 2:33 PM UTC
Man: (to his reflection)
Advise me! Tell me! Help me!
Not sure what I'm doing to me
Want out of this prison, help me
Tremendous spiny walls held me
Reflection:
Responsible but not strict
Positives in time are a hit
Think of the negative as ****
No charges, you're free to sit
Man:
Scars over my face
Can't properly tie a lace
Habit's becoming this craze
Trying to fill in and embrace
Reflection:
The problems are virtual
Complaints all perpetual
Dear this is conceptual
Happenings are all eventual
Man:
Close to your perspective
But misery isn't elective
All minds aren't receptive
Not all efforts are effective
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 9:48 PM UTC
Tobacco tar
stuck like the scars
from my tattoos:
pain elective
and
permanent
like we like the
mimetic representational
citations of Bryson Tiller
and Drake,
what hails so merrily
your unsaid name?
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
there's this boy in my class who can move through water like a raindrop through summer air, though his eyes are brown like the ground on which he walks.
he is an ocean with currents and waves and groundswells, all waiting to drag me up and send me crashing into him.
i've always been a good swimmer, was even on a team once, but his water is pushing and pulling and putting its hands on my waist and neck, tangling in my hair, telling me to trust him.
but how do i trust if i've never been in love before?
how do i give myself to someone and expect to get every penny back?
do i have the time (is he worth the time) to count every coin and weigh for counterfeits?
is part of falling in love taking the risk of not getting everything returned?
can i come out of love unchanged?
or is change a part of love?
i know that you took mythology as an elective last trimester because i saw you in the library and was trying not to stare so let me tell you the story of icarus.
he fell.
hard.
he had wings fashioned from wax and feather and did not heed his father's warnings, flying too close to the sun, touching salvation with his fingertips, only to fall into the unforgiving sea.
if i am icarus and you are the sea then who is the sun?
is love personified within the sun in our myth, something that you must fall away from in order to fall into?
is love the enemy or the goal, something to obtain?
is there a reward for the fall?
is the reward love?
do i need to love (or even merely like) in order to meet you face to face somewhere out of school, coffee maybe?
or a movie?
i hear there's a new one out about a girl afraid of love.
to be loved.
to give love.
to accept love.
does seven work for you?
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 11:17 PM UTC
I've read watched and wrote poems about love, but nothing I've written read or viewed could compare to the way I feel about you.
My wife it still sounds odd when I say it, but believe me when I say it, there isn't a person who's near that doesn't know how I feel about you.
You see I'm pretty good at expressing myself through words, but that's the problem for there are no words that even come close to explaining the magnificence that is you, but I'm a poet so I will try.
In the beginning I was going to say how each time I lay with you, everything else seems to melt away and how the tiniest touch from you leaves the hairs on my arm standing up cheering, and hollering for another brush from you.
But as I wrote that down I tore that page out because it wasn't even close enough to explaining how I feel about you.
So then I came up with something else it was when I first kissed you it was at that moment that I knew that God made us for one another because are lips fit together like two pieces of ancient pottery destroyed long ago, finally put back together after centuries of being apart, but even that wasn't enough.
So then I remembered the first time we made love not *** but love because at that time, before you, I didn't know what that was, it was a foreign language that I didn't know. That no high school elective class could teach because they didn't have you or rather I didn't.
But being a man it was something I didn't want to confess but my heart stopped for a minute when we arrived and as I laid next to you I remember the words that flew around like fireworks in my mind and exploded leaving a bright colored phrase shinning bright in my mind "This is going to be my Wife" and it's funny cause that word still sounds odd when I say it but when I do say it God and the heavens above know that I mean what I say, when I say, "I love you."
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC
Long elective count to meager
As thought throughout the countless, eager.
Wanton cast and a dredge of river
Sometime past, came to crab and sliver .
Wrought the rest carried littoral to rocks
Bent on the watch to release limbs of locks.
Sought abreast a squirmish glean of hand
Slaved to field, a dry-mouthed harrow of land.
Trees come forward to shade separation
We seep, never coward, to breathe such placation.
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 5:53 PM UTC
Even though we have the gift of choice,
is it good to employ elective ignorance,
when it comes to our measure of Faith?
Can we be contented and simply rejoice
by choosing Life over Death, as Christ
wisely instructed us to do? Doesn’t it
behoove us to diligently learn about Him,
accept His decision to be sacrificed
and enjoy everyday life… victoriously?
If we’re applying principles of Truth
within our sphere of influence, then
shouldn’t we progress and successfully
meet new and ongoing challenges head on?
Isn’t it true, that we are not consumed,
since His compassion doesn’t fail and we
are blessed with new mercies each dawn?
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 2:16 PM UTC
Quite interesting that,
No political machinery,
Is pushing a different narrative,
Around elective positions;
Especially at the highest positions of,
Federal, state and local tiers of government in,
A horse race to secure power by any means, and,
To what end, really?
One backed by bullion war chests of,
Infinite origins or two of,
Rich origins that remain quite unclear and,
Three acclaimed to be extremely frugal;
Any side of the triangle appears to
Be propelled by ordinate ambition to,
Lord it over the living and the inanimate in,
Obstinate patriarchy to be the head and not the tail;
So, and not so surprisingly, still,
No political organisation in the running has,
Conceived the idea of a female candidate in,
The position of president or the vice, why?
Busy with primordial pernutations,
The entire land is in a heightened frenzy with,
Ethno dichotomy and religious bugaboo, both,
At the fore of national discourse, sadly;
So here we are, the woke and unwoke, all,
Pretending to be mute, deaf and unseeing in,
What evidently would have been the,
Icing on the national cake where a woman to emerge;
Why can't a woman be your running mate in,
This quest to change the miserable trajectory of,
Impending doom this contraption is headed for,
And a gender balance at the echelon of state power?
Whatever anyone says or doesn't say, now,
Nobody should be left any doubt whatever that,
As a people this geographical expression is not serious with,
The things that matter; like a female vee-pee;
And until the national focus shifts toward the,
Preference for a female vice president or president, even,
Over religious or ethnic balance in pairing flag bearers then,
All and every attempt at anything, whatsoever, remains, still, a huge J O K E.
Jun 17, 2022
Jun 17, 2022 at 4:10 AM UTC
A night fairy fantasy with a magic blue umbrella
levitating into a phantasmal world of silver dragon flies
She is a Fairy Damsel with 24 gold petals
Dancing to the spellbinding tune of a Pixie brigadoon
she is unaffected by time in this far remote little place,
where everything is left behind, even reality.
Enter into the Sanctuary of pure Make Believe ...
Just like Mary Poppins who was wind blown from the east
you too can be transported into a time and place
where magic is sprinkled with elective grace ;
A six inch Fairy with a whimsical pose
is calling out to you o'er a flaming cauldron,
Two dragonfly wings and a touch of fairy dust
here take a sip or two, if you find it too strong we can always adjust.
Aug 16, 2022
Aug 16, 2022 at 10:08 PM UTC
The collective elective
Threw a bag of human waste
On the White House steps,
Torched it,
And stuck around to watch it burn
Live,
On TV.
Nov 22, 2019
Nov 22, 2019 at 11:31 PM UTC
A new walk is welcoming,
seeing sights from new perspective;
climbing hills where I have never been,
is my choice and my elective.
The mountain looms before me,
eight thousand feet of pine and rock;
where I get "lost" among the vastness,
with no need of constant talk.
The shadows cool the early sun,
the breeze, refreshment to my brow;
the views are peaceful, tranquil, quiet,
I cannot put in words, just how.
The summit stays in pleasant distance,
I am content to walk its base;
circling in the foothills, far below,
I set my own sweet measured pace.
I will come back another day,
to see new sights of what's around;
today is God's great gift to me,
and in his Nature, I am found.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 7:06 PM UTC
Acting in pageant
Passive elective
Done no wrong
No lies
No singing of songs
Life, today
Leaves
Lackluster
Musted-over
Lingered over
Every thought
Each want
Undone
As time unwinds
To each his own
Each leaf a throne
Avoidance every
What now
Can I do
Will I go
Through
With
The
End
I
Desire
Of myself
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 3:39 PM UTC
Change the perspective
Like it's an elective
Chosen over the summer
To be my fifth period
Just say you’re happy
Be loving and sappy
Like a 90s sitcom wife
Who’ll never leave her husband
Do what you must do
Plan, not impromptu
Like a 2000s rom-com wedding planner
With a touch of OCD
It’s the deck you bought
The cards want you to rot
As if a deep dive on tarot
Could turn you into an intuitive genius
Mope like a poet
Standing strong like you know it
Like writing your pain
Isn’t still just performance in another font
Process and grieve
You’re so ready to leave
As if leaving my Crocs out of sport mode
Lets me linger longer
Jul 23, 2025
Jul 23, 2025 at 5:46 PM UTC