"evicted" poems
Are you listening to the whispers? are you feeling scandalised?
Harbouring ***** little feelings that you wanna sanitise?
Walk through the swinging doors of a catholic franchise
Ask em for that sailors knot a black-n-white man-ties
To the pairs of prying eyes his practical rebuke
Is a marital disguise and a tactical puke
Throw the garter ‘mongst the pigeons, the voluntary victims...
Whose single minds are filled with matrimonial conviction
Paired up poets pool their miseries; the price of art
Each miserable synergy - the sum of its parts
Did he swear that he’d hold you ever dear to his heart?
To love and to cherish til your knees did part?
If she wants you like her father and you want her like your mother
What the hell are you gonna do when you’re bored of one another?
There she stands on ceremony all silk and sinew
While the vow evicted from his Adam’s apple continues
To stutter as the panic builds like stifled farts
Til it splutters its devotions on her lady parts
Her eyes sentence you to sit though your neck-hairs stand
She’s the ****** ****** written in the lines on your palm
Old scores squeeze sideways through her gritted teeth
And he takes on the debt of every promise she believed
Hide the love-bites in a polo-neck, your love life in a Rolodex
When the ***** hand of happen-stance runs its evil down your keks
Cos like the indelible digits on your bathroom mirror
Love is for life until you dress it with liquor
If she wants you like her father and you want her like your mother
What the hell are you gonna do when you’re bored of one another?
We are but experiments, seven billion shades of wrong
The clever ones stay celibate, the others pass it on
That’s an easy line to settle-on in present company
Single-riders in the peloton to pick up the debris
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 5:44 PM UTC
You say you have
Glitter butterflies
Tinglies in there
Oh, you've evicted the butterflies princess
Those are storms coming
This is the eye of it
Wait till your captain steers the ship
Towards that looming dark cloud
You will beg me for butterflies little bug
You would beg for a swarm of bees
In exchange
for the beating you've earned
From me
then your captain
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 11:09 PM UTC
He thought that he had been evicted like a raucous Irishman, late once again on the rent, his belongings and furniture strewn on the lawn
His cold, deadly stare and ruffled red, said the same, with haughty indignation written all over him
As could be expected with any eviction, belongings strewn to the street, it started to rain; large splattering drops falling from the sky with an audible impact, adding insult to the injury
But he was just a child, set free and off to learn on his own, his perch and roost along with his chair, moved to his new home
He had outgrown the large screen porch, which was such a ridiculous place for an Owl anyway
Wood and glen gone, surrounded by girder and screen, locked into the realm of old peoples coffee and cigarettes
Tucked up into the eaves ignominiously, or sitting on the lamp, grooming flesh from his over large and taloned feet
He would sit silhouetted by the dim red glow of the bulb, relaxing, until a noise would spin his head and he would become hooded and glaring death
The lamp added a glow to his eyes, which already burned with a raptors fire and he would become the personification of evil to the world of prey
Low and crouched, wings slightly spread; he would become the terrifying story that small warm animals tell their children at night to keep them in line and safe
But now he has been moved outside and all of his familiar belongings with him, or most anyways
Now he perches outside, either on the rough, twisted branches near his roost, or his favorite chair, and contemplates late into the night
But it seems that he prefers the comfort of his living room and he rests on the arm of the chair, quiet and pensive in the still and humid darkness
He stares at me while I smoke; the white plumes drifting like iridescent fog into the moonlight, while I observe him from his former home, illuminated by the dim lamp light
His saffron eyes gleam in the darkness, his dark form robed in that of the raptor, wings held down, with the tips outstretched like fingers
He stares at the lamp, standing like a pedestal against the wall and I wonder to myself
Does he want his ****** lamp moved out there too?
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 4:44 PM UTC
i want you to imagine standing in the middle of an already collapsing house, and having everything suddenly flip upside down; or after years of homelessness, picture yourself being told you had somewhere you could stay for good, only to wake up just before being handed the keys. these are some of dangers of making places out of people.
1. don't ever turn a human being into a home unless you are prepared to be evicted without warning.
2. when you start to notice their arms taking the shape of a roof over your head, you have two choices: run, or wait for it to cave.
3. if they ask you to stay and burn with them, you have the right to say no.
4. it is not your responsibility to save anyone, and it is not your fault when you can't.
5. salvaging the photos from a house fire will only re-break your heart every time you pull them out to look at them.
6. when the basement floods, hold their hand.
7. if you are not a strong swimmer, remember that the difference between love and codependence is that one of then will drown you.
8. love will never drown you.
9. i knew this from the start but let you hold me beneath the waves in spite of it, just so you could stay afloat. i can't do that anymore.
10. i don't think i'll ever set foot on your hardwood floors again, but i'll pray that someone new moves in soon.
- m.f.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 7:39 PM UTC
Dark clouds loomed over the horizon
They broke loose in unprecedented force
Nature’s wrath, sudden violence acquired
It rained down as if unleashing all her fury
It was a downpour without one equal
The heavens let down dark misery for days on end,
Water bodies swelled and hollows filled,
Land mass slipped and trees fell,
Rivers were in spate and dams were full
Waves surfed and waters roared,
Like mountains they rose over the land,
Men in throngs were evicted from their homes,
Hundreds died and livestock perished
Such violence, never ever imagined
Helter-skelter, people fled for life.
Lands inundated and folks marooned,
Homes washed away with all belongings
Power failed and life has come to a halt
Rescue operations go on in full swing
Still many, stranded and crying for help
“Water, water everywhere, nor even a drop to drink”
As Nature thus plays her perfidious trick,
We shall stay united and pool all our might,
To regain for our land what we have lost
When the Deluge chants the dirge of dying souls!
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 9:27 AM UTC
once more
layers of casing
are torn
papers culled
windows gleam
sheets smile
the cost is high
if not see
when to stop
can I find north
after all
I’d asked
so life’s paths
once veiled
in yesterday's grime
dispatched
to the winds
reveal
another vision
refreshing as
spring rain
seeking every fissure
quietly lodged boarders
not paying rent
evicted
as another corner
begs mastery
along with
a neater place
it dawns on me
atrophy
is the order
of things
vacate for a few
short paces
and face
it all again
wrenching me
from the lulling
status quo
of my stilted
blindness
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 6:49 AM UTC
how sad to be misunderstood
to be evicted from life
to have the full tenure
of a torrid human existence
gesture horribly at you
in faultless reputation
like that of a rancid rage
over a lost trinket
or to be quarantined
while fingerless skin scolds
and noiseless voices are raised
in a donated generosity of savage ignorance
striving to make copious amends
in vain efforts to regrettable
slow acting poison that boils the mind
oh how sad to be misunderstood
such varicose viciousness
oh it’s sad quite sad to be misunderstood
to live through and inoculated hour glass
giving limitless time to a wildfire of idiocy
and when your breath speaks they laugh
black laughter that shatters wet umbilical truths
shudders
knowledge gestures to smoking nostrils
oh how sad, how sad it is to be misunderstood
to be drenched in the rain but not get wet
in which antiquity rests with its
mythologised stupendous ill effects
getting vivid shadows massed all around
oh how sad it is to be misunderstood
until dactylic, hexameter, elegance
completes and slithering syllables
by their antiquity focus a shuddering shriek
that sends an exploding heart through your chest
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC
These are the hearts that we put to sleep,
These are the lines we're said to keep.
We play around like swing sets in the park,
keeping our distances like the sun.
I'd like to pick you apart,
Be the artist that stole your heart,
Out of that complex body part,
Like intricate puzzles we adore,
The mess we are sorry for.
You said it didn't exist, but here it resides,
In the hole it was first designed for,
I fell in love with a vacant place,
Used for your secrets your top drawer can't hold anymore,
Where you hid your favorite sins away.
You're the one I adored,
Along with the empty room you wore,
I was evicted with your dishonesty,
Which is why I'm here on display for you dear,
You’re the reason I can't forget this season every year.
Jun 6, 2011
Jun 6, 2011 at 6:26 PM UTC
your ears were by far your best feature
they could deflect all my nervous trifles and absorb the jokes no one else got, the confessions I whispered through the phone, and the significance of being on the other end
(please remember)
I am not compiling a list of clichés with which to barricade the door when loneliness knocks
This is not a love song,
so please don’t use those ears to search for one
those ears were second only to your tongue
it possessed the unique ability to mold sound into exactly what I needed to believe
the confessions it sculpted
and glazed with calculated vulnerability fit so comfortably in my ear
that tongue was a love song and a mace rolled into one
(please remember)
not to use it to sing my praises, and I’ll grant you the same courtesy
your feet are so beautiful, too
the elegance with which they propelled you into someone else’s day dreams was inspired
with a screech, your tires left me reveling in exhaust
the fumes choking me, I never got a chance to say
that coffee from the place you used to-
we
used to like
is bitter now
it tastes the way goodbye did as it rolled off my tongue and chased your retreating back
I add more sugar
but the clinking of the spoon echoes the “I love yous” whispered to someone else
the sound fits in her ear the way your hand used to fit in mine
the spaces between my fingers now resemble apartments whose tenants have been evicted
the landlord hardened by rejection wears a coat sewn from the time and wears a mustache curled into the shape of desire
these lonely flats are plagued with shadows
(that’s what happens when the sun is so **** close you can taste it, but there’s something else in the way)
(please remember)
this is not a love story
(please remember)
I don’t want you back
I want coffee that won’t stain my smile
I want my favorite songs not to be harmonized by the sound of your breathing
I want my posture not to sing a Taylor Swift song and
I desperately want not to be the girl writing you poetry
(the kind that you would never listen to anyway)
your ears were by far your best feature
everything else is blurry to me now
I can’t picture your edges anymore, or differentiate where they separate from mine
Your ears were second only to your tongue
Your feet are so beautiful, too
With a screech, your tires left me reveling in exhaust
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 8:34 PM UTC
Hello
Thank you for stopping
How may I help you?
I would like
two items
from the value menu
to feed my children
Nothing for me
I will go hungry
A few dollars
is all we have
The kids are in the back
of our rusty car
our home on wheels
In need of repair
Rent was late
the electric was turned off
their father left us
we were evicted
no support from
our family
our "friends"
or the government
we are alone
By the way
may I please use
my employee discount?
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 11:31 AM UTC
It starts out like a warming feeling like the blood is rushing too hard through veins, my thoughts become vivid and wrack through my brain.
I try to think of something, anything other than my impending doom, I feel like I'm all alone confined to a room.
I see others but I don't think they see me, I think they see the husk of myself the person I used to be.
I'm not fine I couldn't scream it any louder it feels like I'm being crushed into fine dust, powder.
No one sees me even those who walk with the same distress, I know they're trying to scratch to the surface I know they're a mess.
My heart and my brain just keep colliding and every time I feel panic starts rising.
I tried on my own everything in my power but I feel so helpless all I do is cower.
I am strong but not enough to face myself alone, it's hard breaking down these walls of mine that have become home.
You ask me to calm down or to just take a breath my insides are screaming I'm trying my best.
I never wanted to feel like this I never wanted to feel constricted but the more my body takes this thrashing the more I feel my minds being evicted.
The person you see on the street, or in the mall, they may look like me but they don't feel at all.
I'm always trembling in my own shoes, I'm afraid to free myself for whom it's me I'll lose.
If you could only see the me that's clawing beneath the skin trying to get out of this hell I'm in.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
i arrived
early enough
to be comfortable
in my seat as
the patient and
impatient alike
shuffled the aisle
negotiating the overflow
of flaring elbows
protruding feet
and cumbersome torsos
a waltz of
dismissive apology
their only hope
to find their place
without inconvenience
yet with little interest
in whether they might
inconvenience
other passengers
along the way
watching
as a man
recently evicted
from the seat
he had evidently
not booked
surveys the nearby
empty spaces
his mind churning
an internal gamble
of which one
might promise
the longer period
of peace
before the rightful
owner arrives
he knows
he will need
to relocate
once more before
his journey's end
at some point
unknown to him
but predetermined
nonetheless
despite this
he settles down
in a seat marked
"reserved"
and closes
his eyes
Nov 30, 2022
Nov 30, 2022 at 6:34 AM UTC
Insanity,
Insanity.
Who knew that you'd be my clarity?
From the lies,
the I wonder why,
I've finally seen that the sun doesn't shine.
The moon glows,
the depressed take their blows,
and no one else knows.
Insanity,
Insanity.
Who knew that you'd be my clarity?
Death,
Oh Death.
Who knew you'd make me happy during my final rest?
Being alone,
eyes of stone,
I've broken every single bone.
It starts with a twitch,
when they call you rude names like a *****
and here comes your one hundredth stitch.
Death,
Oh Death.
Who knew you'd make me happy during my final rest?
Heart,
you poor aching Heart.
How long will it take you to fall apart?
I cut!
It's my mouth that I keep shut!
You're nothing but a ****** and clogged up rut!
You make me want to find the rope,
the stinging pain when you're rinsed with soap,
**** you and all your hope!
Heart,
you poor aching Heart.
How long will it take you to fall apart?
Blade,
the very sharp Blade.
Why do you always make me cave?
Worse than pills,
I'm addicted to the chills.
The loss of blood is what is making me ****
I'm completely done,
you've finally won.
Can I at least say goodbye to the sun?
Blade,
the very sharp Blade.
Why do you always make me cave?
Memories,
the flashes of Memories.
Why did you add to the painful casualties?
Remembering you,
I had thought it was all through.
Never thought you'd come back so soon.
The messages I never sent,
the revenge I wished I had vent,
and the little sanity I had left, you bent.
Memories,
the flashes of Memories.
Why did you add to the painful casualties?
Plants,
the powdered and processed Plants.
Why did I even give you a glance?
Addicted,
eventually evicted,
appearance now withered and wicked.
Not a soul in sight,
no money for a bite,
and trying not to go down without a fight.
Plants,
the powdered and processed Plants.
Why did I even give you a glance?
Jealousy,
sweet and fiery Jealousy.
How'd you give me strength as I looked at this reality?
Hated!
Completely out jaded!
I'm nothing but a memory faded!
Filled with hate!
A fight will break out at this rate!
Why can't I remember the last time I ate?!
Jealousy,
sweet and fiery Jealousy.
How'd you give me strength as I looked at this reality?
Suicide,
sweet sweet Suicide.
It is now you that I decide.
Always there,
I knew you were waiting for me somewhere.
You were watching me from high above air.
You're an angel,
no matter how painful,
you've kept me stable.
Suicide,
sweet sweet Suicide.
It is now you that I decide.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC
I know that isn't how my grandmother would want me to remember her. Hell, the last time you saw me, I was fifteen pounds heavier, unkempt, and I was wearing that awful, low cut v-neck that made my chest appear a bit too supple. Wish you didn't remember me that way. But you do. But I do. You can't redact the past. Believe me. I used up every black marker in Oklahoma County trying.
You're dating a chef. By your lovely description, I could see the tendrils of spiraling capellini. Smell the buttered ciabatta. Were there candles? Did you whisper over the wine glasses? I hope there were candles. Cinnamon candles.
I actually cooked last night. Cajun tilapia and wild rice. Easing back into it. I've been living off canned vegetables for two months. Peas and carrots mostly. I'm going to assume if you and I shared this conversation in person, at this juncture you would whisper over wine glass, what was the occasion?
Heather called last night. The dancer. She needed a place to sleep. I guess her Craigslist roommates, those two shifty-eyed boys from Nevada, bailed on the 30th of September and the rent came due on the first of October. She hadn't paid it. Evicted. For a night, my room was adorned in all manner of frilly things and five pairs of heels. She left everything else in her car. She explained the decorations as proof of employment.
Don't worry. I didn't go there. Though, she thought I would too. After staring over her head at the beige wall behind her for two hours with my *** hanging off my twin-sized bed -- her lying in the middle -- I tried to move her to the east. She took it as an advance. "I'm not on birth control and I don't want a relationship," she said. Are any soft women left?
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 1:49 AM UTC
Conflicted, conflicted
My mind so encrypted
There is no escape, my memories inflicted
Pouring through thoughts as my emotions drifted
Searching for absolution, through sands of sorrow I've sifted
Conflicted, conflicted
My spirit isn't lifted
Entombed from mistakes wondering what I did
Errors and consequences and a farewell I do bid
Conflicted, conflicted
Thoughts and emotions contradicted
Standing here hollowed, my heart evicted
Still is the world, not much to be gifted
Error, error
Fear and terror
Time to shut down or be lost all over
Again and again with my soul torn asunder
Error, error
Shut down or be caught by despair
To late, it's here, it caught me unaware
The damage is absolute with no way to repair
Error, error
It will never be better
Not a shred of care
Caught in Medusa's stare
Begin rebooting sequence
Letting shutdown commence
Countdown has begun
Five, four, three, two, one
Nothing but darkness
Soul as a black screen filled with emptiness
Clearing all of my thoughts, my whole head
If I didn't reboot, I'd be as good as dead
Startup commence
Beginning with mental defense
Fortification complete
Open emotional files, hit delete
Blank canvas and nothing more
An empty shell of what I was before
It will happen again and again
It will stop, but nobody knows when
I am a blank slate but in the depths of my mind
Are the thoughts and feelings I wish I could leave behind
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 2:45 PM UTC
I can tell you’ve never been touched
like a hurricane doesn’t matter
like 40 below or a deep papercut between your
thumb and your index
couldn’t do any more harm
than a teddybear or marigold —
but that was
before me
before me,
you’ve never been touched
and you’ve never touched
quite like
dissolving
into the fresh dew on dawn’s grass
and you’ve never stopped
to feel your ****** like stopping to
smell the roses on a worthwhile jaunt
or the daffodils
or the lilac trees, purple and white
or to smile at a happy sunflower
like all of your little hesitancies and horrors
are of little to no caliber
before me,
you’d never go a night without at least a sip of something,
you’d never give yourself
a chance
to be yourself
in the sober light of love
you’re shy and you avoid it
but if you counted the number of empty wine & beer bottles
on your balcony,
you’d finally know
you ought to stop pouring at night
and figure out how to explore at night;
dip your fingers in gooey paint and smear every colour
on the pavement
for hours and hours
until the sun awakes
like you have the power to love
even if
it aches
and at first, it will, like frostbite,
like papercuts all over your palms,
like cartoon cliff jumps that can never **** you,
like getting fired or evicted or rejected
because remembering something
as fierce and as merciless
as love
is heartbreakingly overwhelming
for the fact that
you had
forgotten
and forgetting does not make you strong or shrewd
it’ll only ***** you over
and give you a blubbery beer belly and empty bottled balcony
and before me,
I’m pretty sure you thought your life was a tragedy
because drinking feels nice and *** releases hurt
but I’m just not interested in being with an alcoholic,
so it’s best we stop taking off our shirts.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 9:15 AM UTC
A cider and a minder
Passing time as a reminder
Pink glow and songs flow
A waxy time erodes the mow
Renegades and perspiration responds
Swimming in winded seas of Jordan
Heated in space, evicted in their pace
Libido fails as the liquor dilutes in taste
Catch an esse as the moonlight smite
Hold another to fake a romantic right
Filter to the cards of ace as the one winks
Emotive intruders farm in fields of pastures
Imbued with alcoholic waterfalls
Molehills of termites condense lose soil
A lack of connection a taunt that apes
Future anthems triumph in hungered strums
Amused by the music erupting volcanoes
A morrow blows as the candle slows
To tow the tall grassed disused straw
A spring to summer that promises sun rays
A resolve to moderation to preserve modesty
A kiss stored forever peeping the awing stars
To guard a heart and hatch uniformity
Trembles justly forgotten in termed premises
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 2:42 PM UTC
The highs and lows of living life
Occur in sweeping loops
The ups and downs of everything
Are determined by the groups
Of numbers as they glide
Across a digital display,
In rendering the parabolas
Of this game of life we play.
The winning runs of business
A sweet windfall of cash
Temptation to extend that deal
Beyond …is perhaps rash;
It may just tip the balance
Commence the start of the decline
And your parabolic plunge
Will see you quailing to divine.
How you claw your way to solvency
You sweat to make it right,
How you battle tax malignancy
To surmount official might.
The administrative penchants
Of administrative types
Who insist on crossing every “T”
And switching “OUT” the lights.
Having made it, you sit astride the top
And bask in shining light.
You cast off the cloak of caution,
Claim success as yours by right.
But by morning there’s a thunderstorm
A headache and a snag,
By lunch evicted on the street
With your belongings in a bag.
The ups and downs of life my friend
Are a parabolic coast
One day you’re sitting pretty
The next day you are toast.
The only consolation
Of this constant change of state
Is the reconstructive challenge
In re-determining your fate.
So gird yourself my beauty
Hitch your belt another notch
And launch yourself at living
Before you seek that midnight watch.
For tomorrow is a mystery
The possibilities are vast
And paradoxically speaking
The very best is usually last.
Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
20th July 2008
May 11, 2010
May 11, 2010 at 4:55 PM UTC
A desperate desperado shivering as the sun sets,
casts it's silky shadows upon the hollows below.
Beneath the cascading denizens of light,
a puff of smoke waltzes across the December sky,
a patient without his insurance with nothing left but
callous empty third-person reassurance,
"everything will be better" as she said.
But better is always easy when your hand isn't writing the letter.
Save your proverbs for an open ear,
this one is half deaf and full of itself,
despite your intent,
your lack of action perpetuates malcontent.
After all we're all just passing moments
gone and forgotten, evicted,
convicted of being a gutless mime,
going through the motions,
minus a true notion.
A confused calculator short circuiting under an oil leak
spitting out numbers, complicating already complicated complexities
subtracting numerals adding funerals
dividing families multiplying tragedies
It's just a numbers game, and we can't participate
we're just the studio audience, recorded live without any life.
Flashing signs tell us when to laugh and when to cry,
pre-determined automated messages contrived to convince.
And I'm stuck spinning in the corner,
with my hands on my head.
Senselessly blurting out: Why?!
But don't mind me, I'm just another lost soul
trapped with my head in the sky.
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 11:59 AM UTC
Bank,
took away my tract-home-house, got divorced from my last cheatin’ spouse
Laid-of from my company job, all I get to eat is corn-on-the-cob
Get evicted cant pay no rent
Rains too **** much to pitch me a tent
Kinfolk don’t like the mess I’m in, so I became a bohemian . . .
Trailer Home Romeo, I’m a trailer ho-home romeo
Kinfolk don’t like the shape Im in, so I drink with trailer park beer drinkin men !
Pay Taxes that I owe? Hell No ! I’m a bohemian on the go a trailer ho-home romeo!
Bought me an old F-150 Ford, at least I ain’t got no **** landlord
I cash in cans I find on the ground, easy work get paid by the pound
Can’t buy me no tonic and Gin like the rich Good-Sam suburbians
I fix my own truck rent-a-wreck, told I don’t qualify for no welfare check
Afriad to go outside in the day for a jog, got bit last week by the neighbors dog
Can’t track me down, I’m always on the go, move down south if it starts to snow!
Move when I want don’t have to hesitate, hitch-up my truck and relocate
My left tire just fell-apart so I propped it up with a K-mart shopping cart
Got me a bottle of Jim Beam to pamper, might get drunk but I’m a happy Camper !
Kinfolk don’t like the mess I’m in, so I became a bohemian . . .
Trailer Home Romeo, I’m a trailer ho-home romeo
Kinfolk don’t like the shape I’m in, so I drink with trailer park beer drinkin men !
Pay Taxes that I owe?
... Hell No !
I’m a bohemian on the go a trailer ho-home romeo!
© David Wayne Clare In Perpetuity - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Clairvoyant Music / BMI
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
Emptiness consumes me, my mind racing
Longing for days worth retracing
Happiness evicted, sadness rebound
You gave me hope for my future.
The days continue, I continue to think,
Happiness Evicted, pain rebound
You left me alone to myself, creating a gap in my heart
Day by day, my Anger increases
Happiness evicted, Fury rebound
You struck me hard, gave me all then removed it
Looking back on you, I see you're a waste,
Leaving pain,fury, and sadness in your wake.
You forced me out, forced me to adapt
Happiness Evicted, Hope Rebound
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 9:01 AM UTC
Love didn’t leave
Hurt just moved in
Got comfortable
evicted kindness
And all good feelings
Left you numb and Cold blooded
Your emotions validated it
And now your heart feels it
A victim of your own insecurity you are
But you are the one who invited the pain
You hid when it was time to stand
Now you drown in your own agony
Looking in the mirror while talking to your own
Enemy
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 3:06 PM UTC
No need to tell me,
Everything's going good,
pretty sure I am out,
evicted, Life's Cruel.
Sorry for the Things,
that didn't went your way,
Pardon for my words,
But who will I obey?
Pretty sure, I don't belong,
as what is projected,
No need to lie,
feeling's infested
again I'm trusting,
but everyone's hiding,
Honest approach,
is never abiding.
Thank you for the
memories
May 25, 2011
May 25, 2011 at 3:17 AM UTC
fifty trillion of them,
give or take an exponential few,
programmed to replicate, then die, ad infinitum
spawning perfect copies to ensure
molecular harmony
their perfection could not keep
their host from huffing on tar sticks,
gobbling bacon by the kilo, or worshiping the sun's crisping rays
until one of their eternal days, a perverse mutation occurred
one at first, then two, then four, then more
forgetting that all were once destined to die,
in a crimson clockwork fashion
apoptosis
the new invader would hear nothing
of this strange word, for it was the emperor of maladies,
its geometric procession a spinning spectacle to behold,
purloining space from the mortality hobbled trillions
evicted by cancer's kangaroo court
it will have its reign,
this galloping ghost maker, until
the host gives up the fight, and
that which fed its gluttony
will starve it as blithely
as the body gave it
******* birth
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 11:19 AM UTC
I used to eat ice cream on a pretty strict and regular schedule.
The anticipation for those designated nights consumed my naive mind.
Now,
on the nights that used to mean sweet, supple mounds of delicious bliss,
however brief,
I drink Missouri water from a thick, old, dusty glass.
As I tip the last drops into my mouth,
I see a mysterious stain (or is it a clump?) on the bottom.
Fortunately, I think to myself,
whatever that was didn't get into me.
Water runs through.
It cleans out.
It leaves nothing behind but undesireable water spots
in sinks and on windshields
mascara lines tracking down cheeks to squeeze between pushed up *****
and dead worms on the sidewalk,
evicted by the flood of this
life-giving,
breath-taking
rain,
waves,
that drink when your lips are cracking and you feel as if your mouth is filled with cotton,
when you look at a ***** puddle and think,
my GOD am I thirsty.
Ice cream melts in the mouth.
It refreshes in the heat of summer,
it teases the tongue with sugar and milk and so many seductive flavors.
It's best on special occasions,
even though it's desired all the time.
Sometimes it can be bought with the change found on a scavenger hunt in a car,
and other times,
it can't.
But even as the frozen delight slides off your tongue and into your stomach,
your tastebuds tremble at the lack of sweet.
They spite you with a bitterness and a dry, sticky feeling,
and your teeth feel coated with a grime you can't seem to lick off.
You keep wiping at your lips,
for you can't shake off the notion that you got some of the experience on your face.
I'm not even going to mention the calorie content of what you just downed.
And sometimes,
if you're like me,
too much can make you choke.
Your throat and lungs seem to be tucked within a terrifyingly tight Chinese finger,
and each spoonful is a desperate attempt to escape
only to fall farther into a trap I like to call
love.
May 3, 2012
May 3, 2012 at 9:45 PM UTC