"endangerment" poems
Her folly lies in her capacity to love dangerously,
For she loves in many faces, in many words and in many tongues.
She lives inside her love, mutating her heart ever so.
Relishing, perilously, in the daze of its endangerment.
And for the fragments of her heart she is so terribly loved in return.
But only for a moment.
For she holds too much insanity in her sorrowful bones.
It infests her blue veins and plays with her hair.
It kisses her in the darkness of hidden longing,
And traces her skin with wistful desire.
Her insanity holds her to the wall and caresses her neck.
Her insanity gives her a cigarette and watches her blue smoke dance with a smile in the early morning.
Her insanity laughs with her in a melancholy haze of youthful poverty.
Her insanity holds her in his arms.
Her insanity is inescapably wistful.
It finds her in the night,
In the secret carousels of woeful nostalgia.
Her insanity has destroyed her so, and has so wickedly masked it as bliss.
She is irrevocably doomed, for she will spend her days submerged in an ocean of faces;
Hoping, so beautifully desperately,
That she will find a piece of him inside them.
-
*"Can I stay here a little longer?
I'm so happy here."*
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 10:01 AM UTC
I used to love my mother.
I wanted to be like her.
She was the person I looked at as an adult.
Today I no longer love her.
Today she is the cause of all my problems.
From my health problems, due to her drug use while she was pregnant,
To my mental problems, both hereditary and from situations she put me in.
My addiction problems, not only because she’s an addict but also from how she treated me.
My eating disorder, because she used to bully me about my weight.
I have problems making friends because she ****** me up so bad I don’t relate to people well.
I’m afraid of being alone with men because of how many times she left me with random men and every time I ended up getting hurt, from as young as 3 ******* years old.
I lost trust in the system because no matter how many times CPS was called she found a way to keep me and my brother, because she’s ****** her way out of every one of her arrests. Including but not limited to, possession of a controlled substance, driving without a license, prostitution, endangerment of a minor, petty larceny, and grand larceny.
I have authority problems because her parenting left me with no positive thoughts about authority.
I’m currently $1,263.21 in debt because she used me for drug money.
I don’t know how to handle my emotions healthily because for the first 16 years of my life I wasn’t even allowed to have them.
And even though she is also a victim of **** and ****** abuse she told me I was a liar and that she didn’t believe me when I told her her boyfriend’s son had been ****** me for years. She stayed with the man and told me it was a family decision about what to do about it.
She didn’t believe me when I told her her boyfriend felt me up while she was away taking care of her dying mother either.
I thought my abusive relationships were okay because she treated me the same way.
She’s why I was a closeted transboy for so ******* long. And when she finally found out I was screamed at me and told me I was a girl no matter what.
My mother.
My mother doesn’t deserve my love or my respect.
All my mother is today is a model of what not to do.
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 7:52 PM UTC
Hello, you have reached your longtime downhome hometown Saint Swithin’s Family Medical Clinic now an outreach ministry of Consolidated #Jesus Industries Inc. where nobody knows you anymore and wouldn’t care if they did your health care is very important to us you are a valued customer our office hours are from 8 to 12 and 2 to 5 on alternate Mondays and 9-12 and 2 to 5 on Tuesdays and Thursday after Woodchuck Endangerment Awareness Day but before Greenpeace Day except when the latter falls on a Wednesday in which case our office hours are 2 to 5 only and on Saturday 8 to 12 if this is an outside pharmacy please dial X and follow the menu if this is a prescription refill please dial Y and follow the menu if this is to schedule an appointment please dial Z and remain on the line if this to reschedule an appointment dial A cubed and speak slowly when prompted to do so I’m sorry I didn’t quite get that would you like to try again I’m sorry I still didn’t get that if you would like to speak to an operator dial oh, I am sorry your time is expired please hang up and redial if you would like to speak with Dr. Name’s secretary please dial 3 if you would like to speak with Dr. Other Name’s secretary please dial 4 if you would like to talk with Nurse Practitioner Yet Another Name’s secretary please dial 5 if this is an emergency then please hang up and dial 911…
Jun 22, 2019
Jun 22, 2019 at 3:56 PM UTC
Burning like a match.
All I ask for is a shovel. I lost my roots, when I stepped outside my mind. To walk besides towers of false hopes, that stood higher than reality. Hallucinations of what could be always look better than the visions of what is. Like fool’s gold, my reality is also false.
Thoughts. In my thoughts, I sit alone. Watching the process I call my life continue for another day. A barred window is my only chance to see my body surrender to those bright white lights, without the compliance of my mind.
Retreating to the end of your mind, to converse with your fears is reckless endangerment. Some of us just live a little more dangerously.
Simple sunsets & the complexity of the circuit board. Leaving town, so we can laugh our lives away. Enlightenment is usually cloaked in lies. So we’ll spend our time running from the truth because that’s all one can do. Burning bridges to take the long way. Day to day life is just an escape from living.
In life, the soul is held captive in a flesh prison. But when the dream is over and my soul is freed, to fly into the emptiness of eternity. I will find you once again.
Burning like a match in the end we will be nothing more than ash. The great beyond is just a myth. Here today and gone tomorrow. Our hearts stop when the fire dies.
.
Apr 15, 2012
Apr 15, 2012 at 1:47 PM UTC
lifeguards, free life vests, at least 15 lifeguards, always holding red flotation devices
always on the watch, telling little children to get out of the deep end
to give a rest break, a child looked faint, one guard approached, nothing
forever on the watch, no one gets hurt, required swim breaks,
guarding, guarding, keeping everyone so safe
I wondered how anyone could even cough water down the wrong pipe
here in this fully, totally, completely covered and safe lake and beach
waiting for an outdoor rinse, the screams of terror of a small child and tears
and then whack, whack, whack, and the crying increased and it took me
awhile to adjust, to reframe, that this, a deliberate endangerment, an infliction
of pain, could happen here, in a place so absolutely and intensely safe
but there is was again, the sound of striking and crying and harsh words in Spanish
and I gazed at the lifguards wetting down the sand where they had to walk to cool it
a lifeguard with that perfect surfer boy look, like the ones I grew up with
but again, the striking sound, in the relative darkness of the men's room
and a man followed by a tearful toddler emerged
the man looked like he's just performed a self satisfying act and the boy
followed him like a dog and I realize that
we as children are dogs, little animals who are abused
and follow our attackers home and live with them in order to survive
the man carried no obvious weapon, but I knew what he'd done
to be that two year old child, unable to soothe oneself, in a dark, strange room
with a man towering over him, inflicting pain for some trifle
I wondered what to do, but they walked by and dissapeared into the crowds of
picnics and music and the safe beach, with the lifeguards standing, always holding
their red flotation devices, all eyes staring at the water, the beach
it now did not look so safe at all
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 9:37 PM UTC
He ascended to the room
That seemed to have blocked him from reconnaissance
For it takes the form of overlapped ropes
He explored the bastille
Where affection was imprisoned
For it was located in prison cells
He always knew
That freedom was sacred to the body
That exploration was claimed by the soul
But his love for adventures, uncertainty and even endangerment,
Has kept him close to both
Her brain and her heart
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 5:17 PM UTC
Reckless endangerment,
empowering rebellion.
empowering resistance.
empowering the mischief
reckless endangerment . . .
Recklessly endangered . . .
I'm afraid I'm the only one left
I fear too much has happened
to the ones who once stood with me
now against me . . .
Recklessly in danger.
run amuck amongst the filth
and let it gather
reckless danger.
Reckless, danger.
It's a warning to you all,
do not come with me
do not touch me
do not . . . get too close . . .
Reckless. Danger.
Sit in silence
to solve the madness.
Reckless.
I am not in anguish.
Danger.
I am not afflicted.
Reckless Danger.
Reckless Danger
Reckless Danger.
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 12:33 AM UTC
she stands tall and frail, her hands like souls
her heart a maraca in a thunderstorm,
swears she could hear the frantic pounding
echoing off the courtroom walls.
sounds of paper crinkling and slicking against desks makes something in her soul cringe,
and she can smell the summer heat, choking and spicy,
almost as clear as the breath down her neck.
21, and she feels her world is ending.
grew up a little rich
compared to what her dealers were spending.
still, stuck without help,
without support for her affliction;
if only it wasn’t more than a serious addiction.
she could have gotten clean,
told her doctor and her lawyer,
if there had only been a law for her.
the judge wasn’t listening,
wasn’t taking her side,
and unfortunately, it wasn’t more than a matter of pride.
21, and a felony under her belt.
‘child endangerment’ the card she’d been dealt.
not saying it was right for her to go on,
but with not knowing she was pregnant, a line could be drawn.
not saying I know when a life should ‘begin,’
but charges shouldn’t be given based on your ‘sins.’
fetal harm laws seem to help time to time,
but with them these mothers’re told they’re part of a crime.
made to help and not hurt,
give a grieving parent their dues,
so why are they only giving mothers the blues?
tall and firm and college smart,
their collars as blue as their money.
the wood under their hands smoothed from use,
and to them,
the verdict seems funny.
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC
Third and complacent, viewing without frustration.
Repugnant observation, of known endangerment.
Your satisfaction of viewing pain,
Not halting someone of vain.
It’s simply interesting.
It entices me due to its sick nature.
Such a person, comes across as an animal.
Animals are beautiful behind glass.
But up close with no such division, animals are vile.
The smell, brutality, and just their nature, disgusts civilized people.
Just like you.
You sat behind that glass. Watching me. Till the end. Through glass like an animal.
Now the glass is gone and you’ve revealed yourself.
You should realize you’ve been the animal all along.
Apr 26, 2020
Apr 26, 2020 at 3:08 PM UTC
Souls don’t have friction, if there without clear instructions to what’s being used for? Meant to combine the velocity of aspects surrounding the pure energy from growing without endangering itself. Souls becoming too powerful without layers. Layers interpreting logical statements of what good values is growing over itself for protection. Layers protecting itself. Protecting itself from the one that needs sheltering. Forcing more layers to follow in direction. Direction forcing more layers to protect itself more over, then pure energy endangering itself too much! Prompting the ideal for conquest in the face of chaos. Chaos sharing varieties without clarity. Clarity taunting the individual switching off any claims to servitude. Who’s this individual? Umm…clarity itself? (Sighs EVERYWHERE!!!) Energy isn’t withholding itself anymore. It’s destabilizing altogether! Pressure doesn’t come with layers. Endangerment is consequence. The ideal claim without surfaces. Surfaces needing layers without logical statements evolving proudly. Evolving flaws meaning to pace itself out. Clean up the act so chaos can protrude reasoning. Basic fundamental truth of life itself. So, which is it…? Souls without layers! Or dynamic layers ******** energy material too fearful to crack without confrontation? Exceeding the limitations of presence alone. Were all doomed! However, why isn’t there a claim to any of this? Friction has another backbone in its surface. It’s cleverly silent.
Oct 7, 2019
Oct 7, 2019 at 12:53 AM UTC
Choose Life, choose Freedom and Life everyday.
Always choose to do good and you shall have Life.
Choose to follow death and darkness here on the earth.
Your life shall then always in the mist of Self-destructive.
Choose to love others and do good to strangers here.
Then you shall always have good things happening to you.
For when you help others you may never know.
Just how many of Christ angels were the ones that you help.
Thus in the times of endangerment to you here on the earth.
Those same Angels may be encamp all around you protecting you.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 4:07 PM UTC
got back in bed this morning
to visualize a healthier me
running on the beach
splashing in the froth
like a chariot of fire
the song playing in my mind's ear
but my image maker wasn't working
I lacked control
out of body and out to sea
the ocean's table glistening
I came across a sole blue whale
his back's expanse above water
eyes just below surface
he approached me slowly
without threat or fear
we held eye contact for a moment
a melding of minds
a baring of souls
in silent conversation
intense black irises told me
he was lonely
I thought he wanted
to speak of his plight
his species' endangerment
ecology's pollution
his journey's migration
seeking food and warmer waters
instead, he was looking at me
discerning my life
and mankind in general
wondering if everything
will be all right
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 4:45 PM UTC
I left part of you
under and within mulch
of the rhododendrons
by sacristy's window
As close as I could bring you
to saintly relics
without endangerment
of my own immolation
That way
when church bells chime
communicant I might be
with you
Garrulous tolls
ringing from a high
reminding me
your hallowed selflessness
As clangs resound,
reechoing's reaching,
your preaching, there
to your choir
And here I dance
above other scatterings
of you, your deranged
selfish parts
Dichotomous bones
cremated and created
because I never believed
in your martyrdom
Too self-righteous
to resurrect
Let your clattering flatter
Let my feet stomp
Your suicide changed me
Enflamed me
And you and I
are not saints
Though you are now
somewhat
closer
to them
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 8:04 PM UTC
Sometimes I get into this lyfe style. A lyfe style of remorse for feeling bad for myself. A lyfe style of projecting my loneliness on others and trying to title a book titled "The times I've broken my heart". And that's just the start of the story.
It seems I was walking home one day and the oncoming traffic of the overhead displayed a sign that read "You've caught feelings today" my love was expressed through the form of tears. Or "white lies" I guess you could say because my tears are invisible to others and they're lies disguised till this day like the dust bunnies you sweep under a rug. And I know I messed up by talking to you so much. Because that was my first mistake. Getting attached is the quickest way to getting heartbreak. But to me its something more.
You see I'm a mold of clay passed around for the whole elementary class to see. Some people jam their fingers in me and others mold me completely differently until no one can even realize I'm playdough so instead I'm just tossed away.
Or an even better one. We'll start with the cliche "I'm a towel put out to dry" but my owner never returned so instead my skin just bleached in the winter and I withered away into a line cloth that eventually floated a stray... Or maybe I was swallowed up by the lies of others who told me I was something more than an eroded piece of ripped line cloth clay.
Whatever the matter I'm an endangered endangerment to myself. I'm not suicidal but my thoughts tell me otherwise. Have you ever looked in a mirror and seen you're two bad sides holding each others hands? Singing lullaby's about how you're lyfes demands are mediocre and no were near ideal. You're a joke to the joker and even worse you're a joke to the ones around you who only see your smile.
Because they don't even know who you truly are. Maybe if you put away the childish dreams of falling in love and picked up an adult magazine to hide forever any sort of horseplay that comes along with being alone, and being so weak to love.
And maybe that's just it. I'm to weak for love but, I'm to weak to be loved. So maybe my fake strength can offer me an attribute to this loneliness. Or maybe I'll just make a new title and call it "Moving on and moving away"
Its just I easily succumb to the idea of love. And it seems everyone around me doesn't feel the same. So I guess I'll just remain here as dried up shriveled line cloth clay.
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 1:21 AM UTC
You've walked these stairs a thousand times
Be sure to lock the door when you leave.
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 6:57 PM UTC
another nail driven into the bad news coffin
another nail driven by our hands -
inconsequential as it may be
the rusty patched bumble bee has been marked for
endangerment. and though Rusty Patched
stretches his wings over vermont
way and though I've never seen a vermont
sunrise I know that it does. and I know
it's the same as carolina's. and I've
never met a person from vermont in
person, but I know that they like
flowers, blueberries, tomatoes
and that Rusty is a good friend of
theirs because of that. planting his
pollinating pixie stick into receptive pistil
and flowers flowering, blueberries
blueing on bush, tomatoes tip
toeing to life on the vine
thank Rusty. and vermont, Bernie
Sanders and all, thank Rusty with
a new spot on the great pesticide
death list. whose bright idea was it
to grow our food with ******
I think I missed that city council
meeting.
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 1:04 PM UTC
Lover, it’s tiring in the endangerment of dreams, like the
silhouette, flashing alluring across. Experience in love,
is a life worth sacrificing for. And you’re too late, you’re
burnt in my memory, I shall front what binds us, bless it
in poetry and shall rampage over what separates us.
As if both acts is holiness itself and nothing else exists.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 8:10 PM UTC
We were killed by the Spanish
Invaded by the Japanese
And robbed by the Americans
How much more can mother Guahån take?
How much more can our language be suppressed?
How long till the young children won't not know what Nåna or Tåta means?
Why must I...
Why must we chamorros have to go out of our way to speak English for the ignorant?
Why should my culture, my people, and my island suffer the endangerment of our own language?
The chamorro language is dying and it brings tears to my eyes to think that one day Chamorro will be no more.
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 7:38 PM UTC
I felt
The angel of death had drawn neigh
Me untimely to hug
With COVID-19 positive tag
When a nurse and a police
Ventured to a quarantine me to drag.
Regretfully, the leniency "No!
The pandemic me will not mark
To me, there and then, became stark."
After I underwent
A gruesome psychological and
Languishing physical moment
Estranged from my dear children
And loving wife
Health professionals, backed by
A responsible government
And doting society,
Nursed me back to life.
"Cling to life
As blooms yellow loosestrife.
Our health is fine
Soon the same will be true with thine!"
Was what I read from the eyes of
The recuperated,
Allowed to leave the quarantine.
To me such clicks brought to light
On the channel's end
The presence of rays bright.
So as the recuperated
My advice
Is "Pay not unnecessary price!
True to
'Prevention is better than cure!'
In Covid-19' era
Reckless endangerment
Must not you lure!"
Jun 17, 2020
Jun 17, 2020 at 10:00 PM UTC