"evacuating" poems
one is slightly bound
a congestion of sorts
nothing is evacuating
from a certain passage
the
act
that
is
done
on
the
toilet
seat
proves to be hard
sufficient amounts of roughage
have not passed
through one's entrails
one cannot excrete
all
possible
treatments
have
been
tested
by one
yet
the
binding
cannot
be
undone
hence the number two
sits unmoved
in one's tail
a feed of grains and fruit
in the morn
shall clear the obstruction
before dusk
to
have
a
poo
poo
is
all
one
wishes
to
do
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 8:27 PM UTC
Well, well, well
Something that you don't wish to obtain:
wellness.
Whether it be hunching over the toilet,
evacuating today's third feast of the day,
or continuing to hear whispered words from made-up beings,
not taking the cocktails to silence them
or maybe, just continuing to stay empty,
not letting anything fill the void
Staying sick --
Whether it be of the body,
mind,
or soul,
will not make others love you more,
and it will not make others stay
but it will have them fade away
just
like
you
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
Love is a word
Love is an emotion
Love is a noun
Love is a feeling
Love is an adjective
Love is visible
Love is a verb
Love is a word
Look to the hills-
Ocean waves float by
Veering to the right
Ever so slightly.
Listen! There it is!
Oh, how the waves turn,
Visiting one another
Evacuating below the tide.
Love is a word.
Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 12:50 PM UTC
now you can see me
being wasted most time drowning into nothing
cut off the world
i become a queen
A pioneer
almost forbidden to the Old Age
where the summer days collapse
into the sounds of New Illuminati
The sparkles
no one listens
and everything is
pulling me out to see the mercy of the death
hidden by a gentle gorgeousness on this autumn
i started sobbing in agony
it has been robbed of my nature
outside
on the centre of a great shadow
lit me up before i come undone
from written on first page
bloodless,
brain gone,
shadow walked in,
scars on my wrist
down in the middle
a rainbow is
sizzling on the wave
i will be on the empty page and trying not to
cry no more 'cause,
all broken homes
is evacuating from the rainbow.
falling pieces in the sky,
that's what i've left behind
i see you now.
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 5:09 AM UTC
For I am exploding,
With bliss
In a reproductive ****
Sending my offspring
On the winds
Life taking hold
everywhere I go.
Burning.
Taking a moment of silence,
For dear Gaia
For giving me this time,
For all that made life possible,
For this burning to be alive.
For not being the cousins
in the woodstoves
fireplaces,
Slaves
which just got a taste,
burned and died.
For the match lights
Short life
Shorter than a candle light.
For who and where I am,
connected to the stars
who devour and mother all of our lives
Breathing
Inhaling
Exhaling
Consuming
Evacuating
Reproducing
Exploding
Imploding
Struggling to survive.
For all fire,
All life
through out the universe,
For all who will become
a dead silent
Unmoving
Cold
Cold
Cold
ember.
I pray,
Amen.
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
Beneath the skin / Behind the canvas
A fragile greeting found
This fragile tempest
Promised and unarmed
Unwrapped infinity
and sharing air
Anaphelbete for sharpness
Anorexic for fitting
Amnesia breaking
Mining Space
An unnerving echo in prayers
Please,
and now,
and why
There is a smile buried in the curtains
That is why our violence forgives
The lacuna is free
linen running unabated
Heavy comedy and rubber tires sail away
A stained glass sunrise
A signature war waiting under tickets
Neon spins everywhere
The taste of finger-nails
The bite of fingered-lips
Gone Again Left picking clouds
Beneath the roots
Above the rooftops
Dancing concrete with me
electronics off-beat eating the world shaking
Some where still to call us home
evacuating pain behind familiar windows
I whisper you a fire escape
a static ocean at your door
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 10:35 PM UTC
Red
Is Passion
Red
Is Love.
Red Is Intense Seduction And **** Lingerie.
Red Are The Beautiful Drapes Your Mother Picked Out For Her New Living Room.
Red
Red Was My Father's Blood Evacuating His Skull
Four Gunshots
BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!
In The Wall And Then Him.
Gunpowder Sharing Space With Him On The Floor Where He Lied.
Quietly.
Red Were His Eyes When He Pulled The Trigger.
Red Was The Splatter Of His Brains On The Pure White Walls.
Red,
Was His Heart.
Big But Broken.
Still.
No Beating.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 6:09 PM UTC
Emotional ground undermined
without a warning...
no trembling earth
no animals evacuating
I must have unintentionally fed
the natural frequency of my support.
It rocked to music and unfinished memories
until it failed me.
Dropped like a stone...long fall...hard landing.
Dark down there...Don't think I'll venture that way again.
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 11:14 AM UTC
Sometimes you don’t know it’s the last time until it’s too late.
oftentimes it comes so suddenly,
a goodbye that you thought was only for the night
until you wake up to find that from here on out the only thing kissing your forehead before bed is your pillow.
other times you know it’s coming,
like the last time you’ll see that person laugh before an angel comes
and wipes away every sparkle from their eyes
with the same disinfecting spray used on that hospital bed.
but sometimes, the saddest way, is when you realize that last time has already come and
gone
you realize that a person you once knew, has already left their impact on your life
and has exited without a sound to stage left
after their last scene.
it’s true that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone,
but it’s also true that sometimes you can’t prepare;
like an unexpected hurricane,
and the only thing you have time to grab are some anesthetics for your heart
before evacuating.
every moment of every experience has value,
but sometimes you can’t see them
like the constellations that hide behind a cloudy night;
but they’re still there, they just choose not to reveal themselves.
the trick is, learning how to appreciate them.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 1:58 PM UTC
coffee breath, lead stained hands, fingers numbly typing in numbers that have more value than my test scores,
numbers stab like axes cutting down trees that cry in silent screeches in the forest.
numbers like ninety seven, ninety, and eighty two.
numbers that will never define who i am on a college transcript
and these numbers are worth more than who i am in this world, since we are defined by numbers today
even though we made the same mistake in 1939, turning people into numbers by stabbing pigments into their forearms, creating a lesser value for them.
a forty eight is stupid and a fifteen percent is like a hollow head.
i am defined by numbers like fifteen and forty eight and i am told that i should be embarrassed of who i am, or for the number that i am.
and if an equation can't be solved," i'm sorry m'am you cant move on", because your capacity is again,
defined by a number.
i am not a number
i am not the forty eight or the fifteen that scratches the back of my eyeballs like nails filing down a chalkboard.
i am not the one forty five i sleep at when ripping my hair out trying to solve equations of irrational numbers when i should be solving the equations of my irrational thoughts
and everything is turning round and round and round like the infinite possibilities of solutions to equations,
and i go to sleep, and lay my head down as early as possible, but my mind is running in circles with numbers taunting me and defining me and interrupting my sleep.
it is morning now, my mother comes and checks on me to see how i am in this "new wonderful day"
the tiredness seeps through my purple eye bags that i try to cover with tan makeup, and i think about how i really feel in the morning. i stare in the mirror and numbers stare back, i weep as i sit on the floor with the numbers streaming down my eyes, evacuating them from my system, because numbers have made me mentally insane.
there is no hope of numbers leaving because they carry through, even after algebra two,
weight and credit scores, and the amount of money you owe in debt, your mortgage payment, and the amount your retirement fund has swallowed up for your uncertain future,
i am not a number
i am not a number
and i will fight numbers off like the moon controls the tide,
the tide will never control the moon,
and numbers will never control me.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
I'm dying on the inside
My mind is rotting like an over ripe mango
The juice pours out of it
My mind is killing itself
Almost like a cancer
The depression eats away at it
I'm helpless to stop it
I have no control
No control over anything
People tell me they love me
It doesn't make me feel any better
How am I supposed to feel better when my mind is dying?
How can I be happy when my own brain is telling me to die
All I can think about anymore is killing myself
It is my breath in the morning
The sorrow of the day
The last thing I see before sleep takes me
Is the glorious vision of blood evacuating my body
I'm floating in a sea of red
My fingertips blue
The life extinguished from my eyes
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 5:30 AM UTC
Evacuating the life,
Life of sadness.
Instant gratification is the death of her.
She sees her sorrows float away, and
Empty skies turn to poetry
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 1:41 AM UTC
Fading in static,
I vanish from speculation entirely
I am ethereal
I slip through a closed door phantomous -- My driving need absolved
I am cured (Temporarily)
Dead in my own eyes and abandon in my mind
I pass voicelessly through the terminal - - unrecognised
I am more alive then a lifetime of living
Exuberant; I erupt with silent joy that gushes from my open chest cavity
Evacuating the pavement
-
washing away organically
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 2:55 AM UTC
Every morning I wake up early.
I hate getting up, but a lay in is just not for me.
While the others in the home sleep, my mind starts to race.
Out of this warm and cosy bed I get, and around the house I pace.
Before much time has passed boredom gets up and takes it’s terrible place.
The silence of the house is deafening, almost like its screaming in my face.
Every moment that passes by has all gone to waste.
If only I stayed in bed this morning, rather than evacuating with haste.
Maybe then I’d be less bored, or at least no longer be awake.
But here I am awake again, like the sun and I are in a race.
One day I’ll get to sleep in, and wouldn’t that be great?
To have a restful nights sleep may be just what I need.
But the universe has other ideas when it comes to me.
It wants anything and everything for me.
That is, of course, with the exception a good nights sleep.
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 8:06 AM UTC
my thoughts beckon to me-
they command to be heard.
the constant chatter of lullabies that trace my dreams are nightmares.
i find it quite humorous.
our mind is our own,
we have full ownership.
yet.
our mind owns us.
we tell ourselves we cannot be controlled, we can only control.
but.
our mind slices our veins allowing us to contemplate the outcome of every single drop of blood evacuating the premises of our body,
our mind pushes us
to over think
constructing a maze,
succeed or fail.
either way,
our minds beckon us.
to believe
we only have two choices
life
or
death.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 9:09 PM UTC
you are my failings
antiquated
fields of green
salvation
is it not invisible
sensation
and i'm left alone
evacuating
all around light
and dark
you know me
i have nothing in souls
nothing in history
except when emergence
awakening to birds
Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 5:52 AM UTC
The weather intoxicates me
Almost as much as you did
Only now I want it to take me away
Away from this place and away from you
I love the rain,
You know that already
I loved how calm it made me
Now I just hope I can drown in something other than my own thoughts
Maybe if I get struck my lightning it'll make me feel as alive as you did
All the energy rushing through my veins might finally run you out of them,
This storm of you might finally pass
I wish I would have seen this coming
Would have heard the sirens warning me of your danger
I thought I was well protected though
Little did I know I'd crash head on with a tidal wave
You broke me
Built me up just to crush me along with everything in your path
Evacuating wasn't a choice, even if I had known
You were the only thing I knew
Even with all the power to wipe me out, I thought your winds would settle
I thought the sun would shine
Now all I see is clouds
I've made this tragic leftover land my new home
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 4:16 PM UTC
*once the target of advertisement, now the targeting advert machine that pausing live t.v. created, with the internet... once ready for being branded, now asked to brand, to be the grey matter and ***** work pamphleteer, as if for the solidarity movement... no, the advert's inverted device, ushered on by the hope for endorsements giving Libra the universal answer to the antagonism of imperial and metric measurements having found a twin-usage solution akin to Israel and Palestine.*
https://goo.gl/TNDAab,
some want this, some want that...
and some want to commit to suicide,
only because you wrote poetry
and left desperation for most of us
having the sole consolidation
evacuating us from practice -
the art part-time, art in your spare-time,
art on the sly, art that's no art,
no expansion of vocabulary -
some want this, some want that,
and some want to commit suicide
only because you engaged with poetry
and discovered poetry was the use
of rhyme as painting would be
should the colour blue be used -
what a shame.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
A city is burning.
The heat has been rising.
People are evacuating.
Fear everywhere.
Homes threatened.
Lives threatened.
Homes up in flames.
Cars driving between
forests ablaze.
Making their escape.
Smoke in the air.
But I used to live there...
I remember the sled dogs in the Winter.
And the Northern Lights dancing
in the air.
And the green forest across from our lair.
I used to live there.
But now...
the city is burning.
Homes are lost.
Families are displaced.
People are evacuating.
A city is burning.
I used to live there.
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 12:03 AM UTC
I'm currently evacuating,
currently changing,
no longer lingering
in lullaby-scented halls
and too big shoes.
The walls have changed, you see,
coated in posters of
people I try to be
but the walls know my
real estate, my anxious being.
They know my exterior
is scared to invite you in,
because not everyone can handle
the mess within.
They know on the inside,
I'm dripping blood, ink,
my mind, like an overflowing sink,
saturated with love,
sunset pink.
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 9:50 AM UTC
Like a drug or wine it fills up the mind,
evacuating the brain one thought at a time.
At the mercy of it's creators, anticipation looms,
making cherished spaces out of standard rooms.
Seeking it out becomes an adventure;
sitting with it in solitude, our guilty pleasure.
Now we've become spoiled, or at least our ears.
Feeling so grateful, to that let's cheers!
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 4:50 PM UTC
Washing out my ***** laundry
Homework left undone
Assignments held incomplete
Evacuating I had to retreat
Decline to surrender in defeat
A soldier severely falling weak
Coping to balance on my feet
I'm here to settle the score
To events I lived in before
Digging deep down the core
Is that what you're asking for?
Must tore & give you more
Think before you step out the door
Come to find I'm not the one you really want too explore...
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 1:04 AM UTC
Tears
So many painful tears
Tears shed late at night
When no one can see them
Quiet sobs
Echo into the black
Almost silent
To not wake the family
They cannot see my pain
My soul is empty
Evacuating my body with each exhale
As if there is no room
With the demons
That enter with each inhale
I force a smile
An empty and pretend smile
With broken laughter
And pretend light in my eyes
16 years of practice
I've gotten good at pretending
Outsiders never notice
The lifelessness in my eyes
Or the emptiness in my smile
I'm even starting to fool
The ones closest to me
The people who see me
Nearly every day
I could probably fool myself
Into thinking I was okay
If it wasn't for my heavy, broken heart
If it wasn't for my lifeless soul
And clouded mind
I could probably fool myself
How do people live like this?
I wouldn't really even call this living
It's going through the motions
Faking it until you make it
When will I find rest?
When does it get easy?
Because I'm questioning my strength
The strength everyone says I have
Even though
They can't feel my burdens
And my pain
Even connected with God
I feel all alone
In the war in my head
It seems unwinable
Impossible
I want to end it
The pain
The tears
The suffering
I pray to God
Almost every night
To just **** me
Let me die in my sleep
So I can escape the world
And finally be at peace
But I wake up
Every morning
Just as empty as the day before
Suicide isn't an option
Even though it is so tempting
So so tempting
But if God won't **** me
There must be a reason
But I don't see one
I'm a monster
I'm destruction
I'm chaos
I love my family
So I fight for them
Even if I feel abandoned
And rejected
And alone
Because when I love
I love with my everything
And I almost never stop
So I cry myself to sleep
As an attempt to ease the pain
I quietly sob into my pillow
Praying for an escape
That I know won't come
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 12:44 PM UTC
So, an orange ape,
with hair so real
you’d swear it was fake,
said we have to make America great
and the first thing he plans to do
is punish anyone who chooses
to burn a flag.
Doesn’t mind the kind
of KKK dudes who burnt crosses
the David Duke
white sheet brotherhood
who endorsed him,
but if you’re a Muslim
or a Mexican
you better watch out.
I don’t want to be divisive
but this guys been selling ********
and conservatives wonder why
a lot of people are contemplating
evacuating America or suicide.
It is because in our younger days
this nation faced
fascist states that grew the same way.
Lesbians and gays are afraid
cause the VP Pence
tried to pass a law that allowed
people to discriminate.
It is strange cause people used to proclaim
that the LGTBQ struggle
and the civil rights movement
were not the same.
So some sit in terror,
some rise to march on,
some show their solidarity
with Facebook posts,
and others write in hopes
that words can overcome
this ******* rerun
from nineteen fifty-one.
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 7:52 PM UTC