"exasperating" poems
Wonder if when constellations do align
And universe would finally see.
Would it be presumptious of me
To claim that then, finally you'd be mine.
Wonder if my sense would triumph over
So that my heart would be muted.
With all its contents looted...
Would I only seem sillier?
Wonder if I walked away
In due course.
You'd then take my hand in yours
So that a minute longer I'd stay...
Wonder if you'd understand
When if these feet
Should choose to retreat...
That they had to... It wasn't planned.
Wonder if it'd make a difference
If I said that I had to...
Not for me but more for you.
Would we still be able to love in silence?
Wonder if you'd wish that you made it all clear.
Before the gravity of reality would crush us,
Before the vastness of uncertainty swallows us,
Before my presence would diminish and inevitably disappear.
Wonder if you find my pessimism exhausting.
The volatile nature of my moods...
Especially when I dive deep in solitude
And resurface with a trove of words that are no less than exasperating.
Wonder if you loved me enough
In a day...
To stop me from walking away...
Or loved me too much to plainly say
That...
Future's days would see us apart...
Future's moon would glow but not for us...
Future's stars would sing but not of us...
Future's sun would dry out the passion in our hearts.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 9:04 AM UTC
*Inclusion: the action or state of including
or being included within a group or structure
Solution: a means of solving a problem or
dealing with a difficult situation*
**Now, is ‘inclusion’ the ‘solution’?**
Is confiding not always in yourself,
but being able to confide in people you trust:
a group,
a team,
not an impeccably simple way to solve complications?
Some people that dwell in isolation
succumb to despondency and desolation
and invariably,
wrap themselves in a costume of facades.
Inclusion eradicates these issues.
We as humans
want answers to our questions,
resolutions to our complications;
a myriad of different perspectives
can quickly enlighten and open the eyes
of those who truly seek a solution.
Solution to what?
Solutions to those “impossible questions”,
Solutions to those “exasperating situations” we can’t seem to get out,
Solutions to those “family troubles”
"relationship troubles",
"work troubles",
most importantly,
those “social problems”.
Inclusion is no secret,
it’s the biggest weapon we as people have.
Inclusion gives all of its users the power
to control.
Inclusion is power,
the real wealth beneath our skins.
With inclusion,
we have the solution.
(d.b.d.)
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
My neck noosed
My legs loosed
I witness the tragic
It seems so emphatic
I feel entropy
Enter me
Centering
Around love and pain
I wear gloves of shame
Toxicity taints touch
My reaction is to cautiously recoil
For I feel a great punch
When I expect them to be loyal
A tear rolls down my cheek
Navigating scars
Like a man who is meek
Navigating bars
It starts and stops
Then keeps going
The tears drop
From what I'm knowing
That my time is evaporating
Dealing with the exasperating
I feel I can be caring
I just need the chance
We'll see how I'm fairing
On the end of your lance
Penetrating deeply
The pain is unceasing
Like a thousand bee stings
While you stand there feasting
Making me feel alive
From the pain inside
I guess things could always be worse
Sometimes that feels like a curse
Because I have problems all the same
But it's true
The sum of our troubles equal this game
That we lose
Even though I'd rather deal with *** and silence
Than to be vexed by violence
They're all just ways of imposing our will
Whether it's through who we birth or ****
Conflict is how we get our fill
Every day a different fire drill
We hate each other
We date each other
We underrate each other
To deflate each other
Pain is used as a tool
Until blood lays in a pool
These things that annoy us
Are met by avoidance
These things compound
Until I can't be unwound
I live in a world of contending intentions
It's a world of our own selfish invention
A world that burns bright
So I can't sleep
When day turns to night
I hear death creep
Seeking to take me from a life I never asked for
But I'm grateful to have
Life is about experimenting with opening doors
And I'm stuck in the lab
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 9:22 PM UTC
I'm tired
It's to early
How exhilarating
Get up get moving
Get exonerated of past jury's
Long worries
Till death I'm exasperating
Extravagantly emulating
This feeling
Feels like
It doesn't come with emotion
Not cold
No hurry
Not warm
Don't scurry
I will not promise that the murky waters ahead
Won't let you tread
Till you crystallize dead
Then evaporate while your mind is sleep
And your subconscious soaks the memory cup effervescent
Then will you know that
You will not come back
Escape the elasticity
With electric scissors
And that's more then needed
But it's this route you go
Because the Harder you learn the more you will grow
It's too bad this whole time you weren't sleeping
It's time for work
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 6:47 AM UTC
I don't like it
not because I haven't
"had a good time yet"
or
"I am confused"
I'm gay.
I don't like it,
*** is so
awkward
different
crazy
boring
all over
exasperating
weird.
I just don't see why people like it.
Am I weird?
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 1:52 AM UTC
Man...
I should not even be speaking to you. You don't got that broken look, & your edges aren't sharp enough.
That exoskeleton never saw the light of day, it laid down and died before ever being concieved. Boy, you ain't no mystery. It kind of breaks my ****** heart though, yknow?
No, ydon't though.
I mean, yknow how it feels to bleed out all your aura, feeding it to, **** I don't even know, the unknown. Dark energy. The infinite divine, the great conundrum.
Givin it to god? Wherever you find him or her or whoever. Whatever.
I guess it doesn't really matter as long as you're happy.
In the dust clouds of the destruction the bedlam be loud & disgusting & lovely & you may find solace if you so choose. That ***** is hiding specifically there, you just gotta look. But it WILL be exhausting & exasperating & emotionally draining.
All the ice'll melt before it bubbles & becomes vapor & you won't believe it, all cause you can't see it but that's ******* stupid.
They say people don't like to be called stupid. Yet the sad reality is a lot of them are, or at least they just got a lot of really stupid tendencies & would rather not address those kinds of things. But see... man, I don't think anything's sacred anymore.
So simply. **** it, go with the flow, just...float.
Oh I wish.
I could take myself serious, so others might take me serious but I end up sounding crazy either way. I think we're all losing interest here. & I'm gettin real sick of tryna make sense of myself, to myself, to & of everybody else.
So if anyone needs me you know where to find me. I'll just be kickin it in the middle of "the **** like. This is my normal.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 4:06 AM UTC
Mischievous; somewhere in between wayward and exasperating.
Expectations are aggravating;
When acceptance seems heavy in contrast to escaping.
Restraint and avoidance lacks tactics;
Both now seem increasingly attractive.
At once a beguiled captive; an observant idiot.
In correspondence, I've inadequate presence.
An incessantly sidelined wallflower.
An unintentionally shrinking violet.
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 2:48 AM UTC
It's 3:09 PM, I've just deactivated my facebook account. Not planned, or thought-out...just so. I know, it's a foolish and stupid thing to even take the time of noting down in words but so it goes. I'm not horrible, I've been worse. I'm just not...doing too good. I don't feel well, and quite frankly I'm too exhausted for the whole staying positive ******** Things like deactivating my lame facebook account and not owning a cell-phone by free-will...it's my way of modernly disconnecting from the artificial world I've held part of and the people in it. It's not that I'm trying to isolate myself or become anti-social completely...it's more like...I'm just trying to find some air, some real ******* fresh air to breath. I've been listening to Man Of A Thousand Faces by Regina Spektor on repeat this past week, and I just need...I just need to let my own self be. I'm at a distant public library away from home as I type this. It's one of my favorite places to visit and spend some quality free time at. Surrounding myself with books and records and strangers is one of the most tranquilizing methods I know. It's difficult sometimes...to accept that I'm twenty years old and in far reach of accomplishing my dreams. It's difficult to accept that my father's heart could fail again...it's difficult to accept that my mum has vertigo...it's difficult to accept that my uncle is dead, it's going to be a year since and I still cannot bring myself out of selfish denial. Loving is difficult, caring is difficult, trying is difficult, beliefs are difficult, feelings are difficult, I am difficult...and the thought of wanting to cry makes me want to cry because it's so exasperating and draining and overwhelming and humbling. I haven't written or posted much on here lately, but doing so right now gives me this tiny and odd and inexplicable crumb of...hope? It's difficult to accept death as much as life itself sometimes but nevertheless I accept it. I cope through it in the stupid little ways that I can. I become torn and furiously passionate all at once. I can only love as much as my heart can manage and work hard and try hard and cry when I feel like ******* crying because feelings are beautiful and meant to be exposed.
todo en él es lugar adecuado .
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 10:50 PM UTC
Exasperating
Infuriating
Bothersome
And yet, when it's gone
We long for it
We miss it
Mar 18, 2010
Mar 18, 2010 at 3:30 AM UTC
It was a woodcut in our high school history text, Unit 4
Beginnings of the Modern World, that so disturbed,
from the Nuremburg Chronicles depicting the burning of the
Jews, flat perspective,
faces of the victims among flames, in no particular agony, not
especially Jewish,
during the Black Death 1/3 of Europe died 1347-1351 alone.
Although
you die together you die alone.
Earlier that week, I had attended our 6th grade's performance of Fiddler on the Roof, thinking
Coltrane should have recorded Matchmaker as a bookend to
My Favorite Things
but as the play darkened
with the town's absorption into the diaspora, democracy
yet unthought of and rule of law a fig leaf for authority
Jasper, who played Zero Mostel, delivered his line well to
the effect
you're just doing your jobs while wrecking our lives.
Anyway, nothing like that is happening here, is it?
The gardener planting tomatoes, the gravedigger finding skulls,
there is so much life a little death won't matter.
Jasper
was a beautiful ham,
big as Zero.
A friend posed
this question: must all states be melting pots like the United States?
I said yes
not because they should but since
it's inevitable. Let labor flow like capital!
America was the last word of the play and brought a tear of pride
to my eye.
Immigration, exasperating argument re the Other.
How many's more than enough? 9 billion, a rational,
real number that exceeds or we're convinced
is within the carrying capacity of the planet.
Climate change is the new Black Death.
I like the Amerindian body type and face mixed in with the
European, African.
The irrepressible economy rolls out reams of logs, ores of
elements, bags of ice, fields of rice.
Embargo. The moon stares, bare, full of interstellar space.
Better a cold shoulder than a visit from our military.
The crazy Nazis must have felt themselves extraordinarily
compassionate toward the mother, earth, the goddess,
history, or some such abstraction and, thus, acted on a
fraction of all they did not know.
Selfless soldiers just doing their jobs guarding the border or,
on the other hand, collecting ****** for the burning of the Jews.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
I find very little encouragement
to live my life these days,
it used to be different when I was ten.
I remember walking down this street
humming and skipping in full joy,
Like I had the juiciest fruit in all of the world
and that fruit held secrets,
carrying more than just sweetness,
It was big, golden and shiny
I think that fruit was my heart,
It was always so full.
Almost overflowing
with sickening sweetness,
exasperating energy
and a sticky smile that was always there.
I would dance around, walk fast then slow
I would roll around, talk so loud then low.
It sickens me now.
Why was I like that ages ago?
What made me so excited about life?
To wake up every day and just....live?
It sickens me even more
That I can't have that again.
It also confuses me
because what is human life
if not a change after change after change?
Nov 4, 2024
Nov 4, 2024 at 11:59 AM UTC
The need to stare through people
is leaving my eyes crossed,
faster than lines on paper.
Left is the desire to scratch
this itch; an exasperating need
to mark one more line.
What sweet intent leads to
discretionary electrical impulse
that grasps the heart tight,
and stonewalls a swallow.
To recall warm beams of light,
with internal engaging delight,
watching nature bend
towards the will of the sun.
A Push
A Pull
Gravity
displaying its omnipresence.
Invisible forces
envelope our globe.
Dancing in little corners,
from time to time,
as if meant to
find a lone soul.
A private affair.
To stare at,
not through.
A normalcy embellished
as a miracle,
made for you.
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 10:13 PM UTC
I have had this exact same song on repeat for 7 times, only because I bother to count and I think it is a beautiful, wonderful number (second only to 15 but that is a story for another time). I tie my dead knots 7 times and count the seconds before I fall asleep that eventually add up to 7 too, a little number that trails behind me like a reminder of a blessing; exactly how amazing it is to be alive sometimes and all the time.
I'd like to point out that you can't exactly be alive all the time in every sense of the word, because physically existing on one metaphysical plane and slumbering in the soul and emotional metaphysical plane does not account for actually living. Most of the time I am hibernating in myself; a plane shifting mess of tangled emotions, and other times I am numb. It is the type of numbness that penetrates and envelops everything that a person is, was, and ever will be.
Today is one of those days.
-
If you were here you would point out that it is interesting that I am not like other girls and do not follow the 10 cm rule concerning boys and dating (to which, you would also add a wink and a knowing smile, simply because we both know you are attracted to me as I am to you because we are separate from the normality in life) but count the times that 7 and 15 appear in my life despite being absolutely terrible at math. You have - and always have - prided yourself in being the only person successful at eliciting a response from me in moments where I withdraw myself from the world, your hands finding mine, your gaze resting on me. And you know this, to some extent. You know how much our existences depend on each other, how some people were destined to meet and never be the same again.
I have doubted a lot of things in this life, but the one thing I have never doubted is my endless affection for you.
-
"You're exasperating," I say, with a roll of the eyes. "I don't know how anyone puts up with you."
You grin in response.
"But you do."
(A.H.Z)
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 10:32 AM UTC
True confessions of the day, which never seem to end
Often bring deep shadows into light
When exasperating tales of how we crush each other’s spirit
We bring home to our loved ones and recite
To forget about the day and come home with just a smile
So often, we quickly forget that this we need to do
Instead, we bring the awful grief that has been left at our feet
Into our homes to rest upon the ones we love so true
Now I will be the first to admit that we all need a shoulder to cry upon
Someone to tell about the gist of our unpleasant day
Yet I think most would agree with me, if given a choice outright
That our homes should be a refuge, come what may
When you travel through the door of your most blessed home
Shake the exasperated dust of the day from your feet
Greet your loved ones with a smile and rest there for a while
Leave the worst of your day there on the street
Jun 17, 2010
Jun 17, 2010 at 7:55 PM UTC
What is life without something bigger
Are we at the top of the food chain
Or just larger than life
Or to obsessed with it
These mentalities are exasperating
Philosophically speaking
We’ve barely scratched the surface
Of what is called humanity
Honestly
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
The reign of
My heart
The wrath of my soul; bared clear and cold
The strength of your disinterest.
Your unwillingness to mature for sake of sanity
The lies
The exasperating conclusion
That you are not for me.
You lied.
I hate that ****
I'm over it.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 11:05 PM UTC
A notice to a person:
Get out of me;
I can feel your
Jarring fire in my bones,
Rattling wind hiding
Between each of my ribs.
You're a ghost in my thoughts,
Sleeping between each word and
Disassociated idea,
Waiting for the opportune time
To connect it all
And force me to look.
I won't look.
Force me to look.
I won't look.
Force me to look.
I won't look.
Writhing around in the pits
Of my nethers,
Feeling the claw marks,
Exasperating the
Prickling sore
Of social inexperience.
It's your fault,
In the end,
Though you may
Warp it otherwise.
I doubt you have such tact
To trick me,
To force me to look.
I won't look!
To force me to look.
I won't look!
To force me to look.
I.
Won't.
Look.
Distort it otherwise but
I doubt you have such grace
To undermine me,
To force me to look.
I won't look!
To force me to look.
I WON'T look!
To force me to look.
I WON'T LOOK!
I WON'T LOOK!
I WON'T LOOK!
A PLEA,
A DESPERATE,
LAST DITCH PLEA
TO SOMEONE-
SOMETHING:
GET THE **** OUT OF ME.
I CAN FEEL YOUR STINGING COLD-
I WON'T LOOK-
THE PRYING ANTENNAE-
I WON'T LOOK-
THOSE HAIRLESS CLAWS-
I WON'T LOOK-
THIN, LITTLE EYES-
I WON'T LOOK!
I WON'T LOOK!
A THREAT TO MYSELF
I WON'T LOOK
COMING FROM WITHIN
I WON'T LOOK
THOUGH COOKED WITHIN THE PIT
OF MY BODY
I WON'T LOOK
AND ENACTED WITHOUT
I WON'T LOOK
MY PERMISSION
I WON'T LOOK I WON'T LOOK I WON'T LOOK I WON'T LOOK I WON'T LOOK I WON'T LOOK I WON'T LOOK I WON'T LOOK I WON'T LOO-
I looked.
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 8:35 PM UTC
You can call me
Pretentious
With my fancy words and
My endless rants
About
These beautiful words, worlds and
Fantasy lives.
I talk about being alive in
The lilt of those words the
Curve of my tongue rolling off every
Lush little letter I talk
About poetry and magic and
An exasperating universe.
And god! I'm breathless
With the chaos of this beauty
And the beauty of this chaos.
And god every deep
Breath is another burst
Of magic and every new word
Settles into the depths of my
Soul.
**** I try to be humble but
Everything in me sways
And sashays
To the rhythm of these words
And its song entwined with the
Melody of my heart, I dance
And I jump and hum with all this joy.
Never pretentious.
Always alive.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 10:11 AM UTC
Safe and sound and nearly drowned
That's where I prefer to be
Deep, deep down is where I must go
As the storm picks up fast and I want slow
Nearly drowned is not fully drowned but instead a good thing
Exasperating perhaps, exhausting for sure but yet I still breathe and sing
This substance that I have sunk deep amongst to the stillness down below
Is organic, power-infused, and passes, effortlessly, in and out of my nose.
I breathe and gaze upwards, up, up, up towards the choppy and hell-bent sea
And as I sink lower, the importance of this egg-shell picks up it's bags and flees
It's insignificance glows bright and I smile in the light, inhaling the rainbow of colors
I am safe and sound, and although nearly drowned, I am much more alive than others.
-BPW
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 4:17 PM UTC
gaspy breaths of infinite pleasure
trembling lips quaking with desire
vibrant eyes shifting through a rainbow of colors
exasperating ****** electrifying through our bodies
cling together in unison sighing in delicious relief
as our fragile forms cradle each other into sleep
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 9:30 PM UTC
:
The weight of what I'm carrying is heavier with you
the bruises on my back are turning black as I turn blue
This body once a ticking clock is losing track of time
and now the only hands I hold are breaking both of mine
The keeper of my tendencies is shattering my bones
subjecting them to rulership of everything he owns
The only things I haven't lost are pieces of my head
the thoughts forced into dormancy because of what you said
And they have been my hiding place for longer than I know
though entropy displaces me whenever I do go
The journey back to where we are is always just the same
exasperating both of us despite what you can claim
I want to leave and so I stay, my reasoning will prove
that it is here, in front of you that I dare not to move
.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 10:19 AM UTC
You’re stupid
All the sudden
you axe questions
about places you have went too
All the sudden
You don’t know nothin’
About places you have went too
Exasperating everything
You don’t know nothin’
About nothin’
Exasperating everything
Exspecially me.
About Nothin’
You axe questions
Exspecially me
You’re stupid.
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 10:40 PM UTC
I sit still and stare secretively at your fragile figure.
Your shivering skin screams while you sleep in your twin sized bed,
As your blight bones rapidly rattle with fevering fear.
Your exasperating eyes open to expeditiously escape your nauseating nightmare.
But
Instead.
You awake to a repulsive reality worse than your immense imagination.
My heartbeat exhilarates excitedly,
When the damaged door frantically flies open,
The shrieking sound of wood carelessly colliding with the wall,
Is intentionally ignored by sleeping ears dreaming in denial,
As I wildly watch him stormily stumble like a gigantic giant,
Into your room.
Your battered body quivers quickly like an anxious animal.
You are the petty prey and he is the havoc hunter.
You use your cobalt comforter like a shield, to protect your shaking skeleton,
As you try to hide from the morbid monster who sedately sleeps down the hall.
The sour scent of bitter beer fills my nose as he places a filthy finger on your trembling lips.
He tragically tears the blue blanket away, destructively destroying your shield.
His terrible touch turns you hard, like a stiff statue,
Resulting in fierce feelings of shame and guilt, to wash wildly over you like a titanic tidal wave.
He painfully penetrates and turbulently thrusts into your collapsing core,
Annihilating,
Your illumined innocence and your beauteous body,
As his monstrous moans carefully cloud your cries as he explodes like a boiling bomb.
Once he leaves your blemished bedroom, you savagely grab onto me.
"I wish I was a superhero, like you Spiderman."
He cries as terrified tears tear across his face,
Leaving salty streaks and creating secluded scars.
But I cannot protect you.
So I am no superhero.
I think to myself.
As I let you cry onto my stuffed shoulder,
The only thing I can do,
Because I can't talk.
I can only keep sinister secrets.
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 9:08 AM UTC
Consumed with bitterness
Fading into the darkness
Tearing up decency
Creeping towards immorality
Feminist turned *********
Manipulation creating exhibitionists
Religion lost in the lust
Lying destroying the trust
Men in suits with ****** hands
Thirsty woman giving rash demands
Young kids immune to commands
Teens doing anything to gain fans
They salvage in the danger
The boys seem stranger
The kids exasperating over meds
The couples are in over their heads
The shy turn to the cocky
Experimentation over observation
The right thinking turning foggy
The topic of *** raises anticipation
Thunderous beats invading our ears
Drinking to avoid the fears
Infatuation creating obsessions
Abandoning books for sessions
Squeezing into tiny clothes
Morphing into hoes
The money is on the mind
*** driven youth is our kind
Emancipation polluting our earth
Nothing is significant about birth
Young girls with swollen bellies
Dating guys older than their daddies
Enigma in my mind
I'm losing it God give me a sign
Enigma in my mind
I'm losing it God give me a sign......
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 4:36 AM UTC
Numbing your mind
Is a temporary resolve
For a nagging conscience
When you know
It's not your composition
But a sad love song
In a minor-key
Dramatized music
That floods the soul
Until the walls break
And dry tears turn
Into a flash flood
Exasperating the ache
Exposing the wound
Ripping it open
Numbness resolved
Love evolved
But in the end....
Meaningless, if not returned
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 2:31 AM UTC