"erratically" poems
*"Are you are reptile,
or a mammal?"*
<licks lips and rubs chin>
*"Cold-blooded,
warm-hearted?"*
<grips knee with left hand>
*"When smelling a blooded roast beef...
...do you get hungry and share?"*
"Or do you eat the guests first?"
<holding long-blade carving knife>
"You see, I like to think that you're both bugs, that you bug me and neither of you have any power what with my holding this weapon?"
<waves knife around erratically>
"Also, I don't like sharing..."
**I only throw
my banana
at Chel-Sea
I only throw
my banana
at Chelsea
I only throw
my banana
at Chel-sea* *
Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 1:11 AM UTC
Average-joe protagonist wipes beer glasses
at the helm of his sports bar, blissfully ignorant
of the imminent laughable tragedy. Clouds circle,
and there's that obligatory radio broadcast,
the one that warns of inclement weather-
rainy, with a chance of Selachimorpha.
You hum the Jaws theme, tracing pickup lines
on the skin of my back, while sharks pour from the sky,
the improbable tornado dropping great whites
on the California shoreline. One arm curled
around my waist, you tickle erratically
until I squirm away, only to creep back again,
and put my head in the mouth of the sand tiger,
wandering too close to the edge of the water, foolish,
but this is a b-movie, we swam out too far
knowing how it would end. The extras
scream and scatter, arms flailing,
going through the motions of surprise,
stumbling in their scripted attempts
to flee the inevitable. Predictably,
they fall. We all fall, and the girl trapped
in the hammerhead's belly
has this peaceful expression,
as if she can't quite remember why
she ran away in the first place.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 1:05 PM UTC
Figures Dance Across My Memory,
In An Erie Ballroom,
Lit Only By The Light Of Vanilla Scented Candles,
The Light Of The Moon And Stars,
Glaring Through Transparent Windows,
Congregate In Creamy Daffodil Colored Flames,
Every Women I've Cried Over,
In Extravagant Ball Gowns,
Stitched With The Misery They Brought Upon Me,
With Them,
Every Man Which I Have Bawled Over,
Wears A Tuxedo,
With A Withered Rose In Their Pocket,
To Symbolize My Pain,
And A Tie Laced With My Own Tears,
The Ballroom Of Horror Caters,
The Party On The Top Floor Too,
Everyone Who Has Made Me Smile,
Dances Erratically,
Singing Along And Laughing,
Though The Demons Beneath Their Feet Houses,
Barbaric--Criminals--Found Guilty Of Heartbreak,
And As They Slow Dance To Rhythmic Beating,
Of A Broken Heart--That May Never Mend,
Something That Rips The Gauze Wrap,
From My Wounds,
They Smile,
As They Masquerade In My Ballroom Of Horror
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 10:59 AM UTC
Inside you I will slide
Take your body for a ride
Split you in your great divide
Have you screaming come inside
Hard this **** you're going to get
Down your throat a mark is set
Touch you oh I feel you're wet
Expectations will get met
Nasty on you sure looks good
Bouncing on my morning wood
In that moment we will be
******* for eternity
Lust a monster I can conquer
Tongue on clit...Helicopter
Eat you up nice and proper
Probe you good..Sexual doctor
Pump you feel the synergy
Submit put your trust in me
Blindfold tease you constantly
Vibrate *** erratically
Ecstasy's button cannot hide
Exposed to me open wide
All resources will be applied
To discovering treasures you hold inside..
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 7:42 PM UTC
I skip, across a streaming, upon random~laid
flat and comfortable flat flagstone stepping stones,
from poet to poet, color to color, poem to poem,
Auden to Whitman, Schuyler to
myself, a dingaling notion, an errant word,
the here to there, all randoms, yet,
oval chain linked all,
a question posed, an answer unknown,
a reference to an old Italian myth,
and there, and here, a body,
comes to rest,
& also,
comes to rest…
<>
led not by the nose, but the single fingered
tip that guides across a landscape patterned
painting, lost but never a loser, each implants,
each imbibes, and the H&H^ alternatively
rumbles, pounds, vibrato burns erratically,
and the difference between a life in love,
and a life in poetry,
is not a line dividing,
but a path combining,
and the only sign
upon the road,
is never a reddened "stop!"
always just a soft lavender, so tender, inquiring,
requiring, deep thoughts and reckless abandonment,
the only guide inspired when ecstatic adrift in
a season, a sea, any one of nature's designed
unlimited
schemata's of vista creations,
is this, simply stated:
What?
<>
postscript
6:27 Sabbath Sep 27
nyc
after a sunrise glorious, where
the windows eastern facing
make an irresistible irrational
pattern of golden yellow reflecting,
mirrors, and
after reading much,
and so I too, reflect, vista, vista,
what do you see, I see…What?
after reading a poem by James Schuyler,
entitled (yes, we are)
"What"^^
Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 7:47 AM UTC
like a compass that has lost north
spinning without pattern, without end
my heart races erratically, unmoored
by just the soft touch of your hand
Jun 29, 2021
Jun 29, 2021 at 11:00 PM UTC
if only emotional abuse scarred my skin the way physical abuse did, because maybe then you'd see that your words and your demeanor are the reason why you say i have issues with channeling my anger
maybe if your screams bludgeoned my skin the way a punch would destroy the filaments under my tender flesh, you'd notice how much you're hurting me
and it scares me that you can't even see what you're doing
it scares me that one day i'll be one scream away from erratically fainting to my demise, falling effortlessly to the floor, heart still beating in my chest and brain activity picking up faster than ever before
it scares me that you're not scared
your words are like knives carving my organs with cynical words
"worthless" is inscribed through the hemispheres of my brain
"damaged" is engraved into my lungs
i can't breathe
and im beginning
to not feel anything
anymore
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 1:30 PM UTC
Tangy scent of ginger ale,
Hands stained cotton-pale,
Flames crowd your barren soul,
A childless mother, not completely whole.
Colors burn through your mind,
Words blaring that aren't so kind,
Forever trapped in an endless maze,
Your own father called it a "passing" phase.
Only you know the truth of it all,
You miss the days before the Voice would call,
No matter how long or how good the day,
The Voice always got away.
"Illusions," they called the voices you heard,
But to you they were as vivid as the song of a bird,
Chirping outside your window to greet this fruitful morning,
Soon to be faded by the Voice's scorning.
Dull and gray your nights transform,
Like a passionate magician with no acts to perform,
The last straw pushes your limits too far,
Like a flame engulfing spilled tar.
Bucket of white and paint brush so clean,
You're painting your flaws away before they'll be seen,
A gulp of ginger ale along the way,
White you've been painted and white you will stay.
You find a pair of scissors and snip off your hair,
Leaving your scalp looking erratically bare,
You head to your room for a final glance,
Really, it's because you're hoping to be given one last chance.
"You've been bad," the Voice would state,
In a tone of voice you're starting to hate,
You grab your phone and make some calls,
Then head to the bathroom with the checkered walls.
A few moments later you lay in the bathtub,
Already your fingers feel slightly numb,
You read the instructions and swallow the pill,
Inhale and exhale to get rid of the chill.
Your eyelids grow heavy and your head is sore,
You turn on some music that you adore,
Your chest feels tight and you brace yourself,
Place your phone on the top-right shelf.
Your best friend finds you later that week,
Her fingers start shaking and she's too shocked to speak,
She clutches your phone and as she dials 9-1-1,
She finds your note that writes, "The Voice won."
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 3:28 AM UTC
Companionship;
that's how I would paint it.
You are my companion.
A glowing bow of my heart has bonded to yours
so that when I muse over you
the breathing patterns
of a gentle creature
rising and falling in my chest cavity
create that warm, taxing heat
of a muscle striving a little more arduously
for a dedicated cause.
Thats how it feels
and it feels good.
Sometimes, erratically,
I notice my little creature breathing more keenly
and I wonder,
in those moments,
if it's not your own creature
pondering mine.
That maybe there are small orbs of brilliant light moseying down your spinal cord to caress the soul of that creature,
to tell it our stories
share with it our memories,
and perhaps those brilliant orbs find my little creature too.
Travelling through time and space to chance upon me,
to tell me that you're thinking of me.
This must transpire because of our companionship,
what else could ever justify such majestic happenings in this imperceptible world.
So if it is by virtue of our companionship and because you are my companion
then I am perfectly,
divinely
in affinity with that.
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 7:13 PM UTC
My fingers danced across your skin
Dipping across valleys
Sliding down chasms
You radiate warmth and love
Filling me to the brim
Our hearts beat erratically
We cannot turn away from this
We stick together
Bonded by sweat and memories
We cry out each others names
Tasting salt and meaningfulness
We no longer act as two
We have absorbed each other
Returning to the beginning
Sinning.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
Confusion, illusion, frustration
I'm hurting still.. don't know why
We are not meant to be, so let me fly
My wings remain under yours,
so please close the door
How am I suppose to close this book of love
If you are still around and our bodies fit like a glove
You say it's just physical but it's more to me
Skin on skin, lips on lips, entwining and free
You don't even want to try
But hey I'm not the one who is going to cry
I want to Scream, shout
erratically, passionately
and tell you that you are a fool
it's hard...I know you are not for me
But I don't want to lose you baby
How do we become friends after being lovers?
When all I can remember is that summer
I don't understand why my inside is pleading for peace
I can't seem to be able to cease
Fed up and fed up
I want to stand up and up
It's not about me so let it go and drain the cup!!
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
Intertwined silhouettes in the evening twilight,
the wind causing the raindrops to fall erratically in spite.
Your kiss, an everlasting promise and each drop of rain in all its glory
is a beautiful note in the symphony of our love story.
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 5:24 PM UTC
This terse verse was not
coerced or rehearsed,
the characters dispersed,
automatically, erratically,
forming statically cohering
patterns emphatically stating
my state of mind unwinding,
binding to the page,
for my pen is but a player and
this paper is its stage.
So now these thoughts have autonomy
despite their bond with me,
they're free to be a part apart from the
constraints of my mind, and now without
restraint they find their way to yours
as you perceive them.
I emit, the pen transmits,
now you receive them.
Adopt the words with
your optic nerves.
But be warned that these forms
Do not appease norms.
Jul 26, 2017
Jul 26, 2017 at 4:41 AM UTC
Driving down the road
I experienced the glow
Of daytime's luxurious light
That was until it became night
Now that night has happened
A light follows me from the darkness
It pervades my rear view mirror
It's blinding magnitude magnifies upon reflection
The light intimidates me
Like the time
I didn't know what to say
And you had nothing to say
So we went our separate ways
Traveling alone
The light seems brighter
It's constant peering presence disturbs me
I feel this condemning nightlight is my jury
Like the time
The ****** I injected landed me in jail
I used it to sedate the voice that I failed
When you saw my love and bailed because I'm male
I drive lonely and high
There's an exasperated sigh
When the lights gets closer
I feel it may bring closure
Like the time
You entered my vehicle
To protect me from the light
I confused your compassion for love
I felt so stupid
When foolish fits me like a glove
I feel so putrid
The odds of someone being gay are slim
So why when my hopes are dashed
Must I crumble into idiotic ash?
My eyes grow larger
As death's sights grow smaller
And death's light grows taller
My mistakes create magnification
And I begin to drive erratically
When you are my love's activation
I continue to die sporadically
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 5:26 AM UTC
What mists are these
That grow heavy in the palm
Making bruises weep
These mists that place themselves
By treaty or inheritance
With such ferocity
Embalm the soul with tears
Announcing their pleasure
To be resurrected
These mists that represent a tragedy
An imagination that beholds a bleeding
Yes, a bleeding from mine eyes
A conflagration of blood
That flares a collaboration of turmoils
With effortless deployment in the mind
Erratically as if impediment does not impose
Itself upon their mortal breach
An unresponsive pace that energizes
The tragedy of my great lament
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 3:50 PM UTC
I can’t wait
for stressful planning
and credit charges
for emptied drawers
and stacked luggage by the door
I can’t wait
for communication hardships
and endless researching
for early exhausted mornings
and lethargic confusion
I can’t wait
for belonging searches
and metal detectors
double checking my facts
and momentary panic that i messed up
.....
...
I can’t wait
for airplane seats
and window views
long tiring flights
and transfers in unknown territory
I can’t wait
for screeching plane tires
and strange new air
feet planted on foreign ground
doe-eyed awed
and misspoken anxiety
I can’t wait
for looks directed at me
cautious wonder of the one who’s not native
meeting new people
stumbling over rehearsed words
i don’t know if i’m saying it right
I can’t wait
for new apartment doors
and an unknown bed
thriving in the heart of
the place i wished to see
for several years now
where my dreams took root
and blossomed erratically
I can’t wait
for late night calls to family
i miss you from little sisters
backwards sleeping schedules
but finding my way just fine
I can’t wait for all of this
it couldn’t come any sooner
But most of all
I can’t wait to say
I finally made it
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 10:44 PM UTC
The strings were pulled of a bitter signal
Erratically hateful in their draw
Commencing the judgment of her mental state
As a bloodthirsty crowd looked on in awe
All her pleading notations were met with objection
By all their unfeeling eyes
Who merely wished to bear witness to the surrender
Of sanity and to see its quiet demise
Suddenly without warning an onrush of light
Blinded the probing eyes of the crowd
A curve of great decision was suspended in space
As they began to read her crimes aloud
Guilty as charged a voice rang out from the light
For moving against the grain
For not following behind the shadow of others
She is guilty, she must be insane
Completely unnatural, no control of her faculties
She cannot possibly be competent, the voice loudly rang
Daring to be optimistic in the face of grievous pain
She holds no resentment, she must be insane
Her sentence was pronounced for the entire crowd to hear
Claiming her incompetent and unfit
All the eyes in the crowd remain blinded by the light
Yet she doesn’t mind at all as she smiles and sits
She smiles into the faces of the blinded crowd
Knowing she has not changed a bit
****** she may be to the unfeeling eyes of the blind
However, they can never take her own happiness
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 6:13 AM UTC
(a cluster of 10w)
><
daylight glares...melts shadows
revealing those stilled,
and those living
><
puffs of breath
could signify a desire
to still exist
><
some breathe erratically
amidst suffocating airs,
fighting,
unwilling to die
><
there're those breathing,
but, oblivious of everything,
themselves......deliberately,
forgotten
><
senile...scared...lonely
committed to indifferent homes
left languishing
abandoned
><
no longer exhaling gratitude
for, they're considered
dead...and...gone
><
what're they thinking,
when they're with that
loneliest faraway look?
><
while wilting in confusion...do thoughts
about tomorrow visit them?
....aiming....meaning to defy death?
to again, catch precious breath?
><
><
><
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 12:24 AM UTC
When life gives you lemons,
You squeeze them in your eyes,
You don't think twice, regret
Or get to question why.
For it is written in fate
For it is how it is to be,
You don't get to choose it ,
And you don't get to cry.
You'll fight it, hate it, neglect it and whine,
You'll curse it, resist it, run from it and hide.
But it'll catch you one way or the other,
It's better if it catches you this way than the other.
For it stings like a bee,
Then pains like a wound
And you may think you are enough to take it,
Before it comes back and bites you in the moon.
One shot, two shot, three shot, four
Glasses become empty but the lemons keep coming more.
It's no fun with the acidic
Sourness creeping into my soul.
Yet it keeps coming more, more
And more...
Call it fate,
Call it luck,
Call it magic,
Whatever you must,
It is easier to blame others
Than to put myself under the bus.
A screw-up here,
A ****** there,
One by one my life has scattered everywhere.
So I take these lemons that life owes
And the ones that I already own,
Trying hard not to put them all in my drink,
Days go by but it feels like a blink,
Maybe I do down them all
Maybe that's become my thing.
But hey, I don't whine about it anymore,
Or fight it, hate it or neglect it
Life keeps changing erratically,
This is the truth, this is my new reality.
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 2:01 PM UTC
She sits there, fingers twitching erratically
Hands clasping, unclasping over each other
With the sunlight fracturing through rippled eyelids
I imagine I can almost see right into her eyes
Like paper soaked through with tears
But then she lowers her head
Shoulders sag from her weighted thoughts
Rays now falling to her ocean of hair
I wouldn't mind
But I can see the weariness she feels
She sits cross legged
But yet her back is weathered with unlived age
Her half smile barely reaches her lips
And her eyes
They're closed to contain the break lapping under her lashes
They're closed to trap the tears threatening to become lakes
They're closed and I don't mind
There's never a shortage of her to immerse myself in
Now it's her hands
Her hands are still moving
Wrinkles disturbing the still waters
Visions of waves promising to drag me down
To suffocate me among the depths of all I love of her
Trust me
I won't mind
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 7:49 AM UTC
Depleted-
I feel depleted, emotionally, physically, mentally-
I don’t feel like me-
Like a shell of what I used to be-
This tree of life grows so continuously-
In this undefined times-with these undeveloped rhymes-
I grow so empty-
And this potentially could be the end of me-
Heaven set me free-
Free to fly so casually-
Happy-feels like a casualty-
And I’m just hammering-
At myself-by myself-
My health depletes so erratically-
And magically I’m still battling-
The enemies are gathering-
In my head-in my bed-
Better off dead-
So demanding-
Here in front of you Lord I am standing-
Commanding you presence-
Are relationship is so adolescent-
So co-dependent-
Just demented-
And I am repenting-
Descending into a world of pretending-
Where the smile is vile-
And the eyes are the lies-
Of all that I am inventing-
The façade is cementing-
This is not my intention-
Expression is only expressing-
Meir fraction of my aggression-
Positivity-I could use a lesson-
But negativity is just not letting-
Me-
Be free-
Freedom from demons-
Is how I’m dreaming-
Like I said-I’m simply depleting-
Dec 1, 2010
Dec 1, 2010 at 2:45 PM UTC
My heart races, erratically, lacking a proper rhythm.
A rhythm that could only be rendered by another heartbeat.
My soul soars frantically, searching for yours in a forlorn prison.
I strive on, praying, yearning, not ready to accept defeat.
I gaze into your eyes, longing for some sign of affection
I see nothing, because you feel nothing towards me.
I gave you my heart, trusting you to not break it, and you denied my attention.
Look at me now! I'm dead inside! What else could I possibly be!?
Twisted nightmares from the most morose parts of my mind start to form
I imagine that I am in a hospital bed, waiting for you to say farewell
You couldn't even say goodbye? Of course not, you have no desire to mourn.
My worthless love, absolutely useless to you. I'm alone, locked in this prison cell.
But I keep optimism in my heart, and I fathom that perhaps you'll realize
How much I truly loved you, and how much I sacrificed.
My pulse diminishes, my eyes start to close, at last, it's almost time to die.
How I longed to be yours! After my death, will you be satisfied?
Before I die, I glare at the doorway, my stomach full of knots, my vision is blurry.
I think of my scars, covering my body, each representing a time when you weren't there.
I promised I would wait, I'm giving you one last chance, please hurry.
But you never show. The machine flat lines, and you finally prove that you truly didn't care.
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
I closed my eyes
And tried to wake up
In a world that’s too far away
That struck from above.
Taunting me with honed voices,
Not a single was distinct.
How cruel were those noises!
With every possible hint
In an alienating stint
followed by the clue
It came as on cue
And I heard that song
Of stories not heard for long.
Then I stumbled upon the truth,
‘We all go places that we may never belong.’
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 7:20 AM UTC
Pursuing yet another parabolic
Crawl across the clear, blue, summer sky
The sun started its journey at the horizon.
Radiating— Forcing its warm, orange, light
Through venetian blinds; the glowing celestial body
Painted her naked, flawless, skin
With stripes of contrasting light as she slept.
He watched her quietly as the shadows
Manifesting between each strip of light, inched
Across her skin in unison with the suns trajectory.
Ever so slightly opening her sleep-crusted eyes
She looked up at him, yawed gently, smiled and
Rolled over to position her body against his.
Her narrow, freckled face, rested easily
In the crevice between his arm and chest.
Letting out one more yawn, her emerald, green,
Eyes fell back behind their lashed curtains of flesh;
Dozing off into the next satisfying slumber.
The ceiling fan above clicked and waved erratically
But offered no relief from the hot, humid air.
Perspiring slightly, her skin remnant of morning dew.
In those last few minutes of direct, morning, light
Right before the sun left the scope of their window
He couldn't help but think that this was it.
This was love, and he was trapped.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 10:22 PM UTC
Step down from the drone of mid-afternoon sting
to the cool of a bowl in the shade of a spell
where the sphagnum-crawled rocks crouch with buttermilk blooms
and the bog violets pour out their purple perfume.
You will find in the hollow a sparkling jewel
erratically spattered with glittering pools
where the shards of the sun slice their way through the haze
to repose on the throne of the hummock's soft plush.
And all is deep-rooted in moist verdant freshness
with climbers entwined around cascades of vines
and all that's contained in the small mountain's hollow
perpetually thrives in the gold dappled light.
Creep cautiously down to that cavernous bower
immerse all your senses and drench every pore
with the contrast of coolness and shimmering beauty
where you'll tremble and shiver for want of the heat.
May 24, 2010
May 24, 2010 at 7:43 AM UTC