"exceeding" poems
my intelligence is not defined by a number, nor a letter.
nor should I be graded on a curve
by people
who don’t know me.
What does knowing the pythagorean theorem
have to do with me being a good person?
what will memorizing words on a page
help me with my rage
raging about how education has become
this conveyor belt
chewing up and spitting out
society’s warped up idea
of intelligence.
Throw me in a classroom with twenty-something students
just to tell me I’m better than him
but not as smart as her
teachers saturating our brains
with force fed textbook equations
telling us this is what we have to know to make it
“make it on time”, they say
“Passing it in late is not okay”
but when I am eventually thrown out
of this conveyor belt of education
the realization will be that life does not have
a set schedule.
my life will not change on time, as you ask
I cannot cram my creativity onto a five-paragraph
piece of paper.
I cannot crunch my knowledge
down onto six pages
about who I am
Don’t give me guidelines
my future does not have guidelines
you think you’re teaching us information
but in reality, you’re teaching us around the system
of how to get a passing grade
but not the exceeding knowledge
knowledge about what?
Our history?
what about our future?
We can’t learn about our future by staring at a blackboard
in a dim-lit room
with twenty-something other people
wondering what the hell we’re doing here
but being too scared to stand up
and ask.
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 1:47 PM UTC
Am I a stone, and not a sheep,
That I can stand, O Christ, beneath thy cross,
To number drop by drop Thy Blood's slow loss,
And yet not weep?
Not so those women loved
Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee;
Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly;
Not so the thief was moved;
Not so the Sun and Moon
Which hid their faces in a starless sky,
A horror of great darkness at broad noon--
I, only I.
Yet give not o'er,
But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock;
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more
And smite a rock.
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VIII. TO ARES (17 lines)
(ll. 1-17) Ares, exceeding in strength, chariot-rider, golden-
helmed, doughty in heart, shield-bearer, Saviour of cities,
harnessed in bronze, strong of arm, unwearying, mighty with the
spear, O defence of Olympus, father of warlike Victory, ally of
Themis, stern governor of the rebellious, leader of righteous
men, sceptred King of manliness, who whirl your fiery sphere
among the planets in their sevenfold courses through the aether
wherein your blazing steeds ever bear you above the third
firmament of heaven; hear me, helper of men, giver of dauntless
youth! Shed down a kindly ray from above upon my life, and
strength of war, that I may be able to drive away bitter
cowardice from my head and crush down the deceitful impulses of
my soul. Restrain also the keen fury of my heart which provokes
me to tread the ways of blood-curdling strife. Rather, O blessed
one, give you me boldness to abide within the harmless laws of
peace, avoiding strife and hatred and the violent fiends of
death.
5.6k
For certain he hath seen all perfectness
Who among other ladies hath seen mine:
They that go with her humbly should combine
To thank their God for such peculiar grace.
So perfect is the beauty of her face
That is begets in no wise any sigh
Of envy, but draws round her a clear line
Of love, and blessed faith, and gentleness.
Merely the sight of her makes all things bow:
Not she herself alone is holier
Than all; but hers, through her, are raised above.
From all her acts such lovely graces flow
That truly one may never think of her
Without a passion of exceeding love.
5.5k
So there’s this woodpecker
He pecks all day
Peck Peck Peck
Peck Peck Peck
Pecks his life away
Ever seen him stop and wonder?
At the glories of the world and beyond?
Did you ever see?
Him staring at a tree
And thinking about Joyce Kilmer?
Nope, can’t recall
Any such incident
So why should I stop
And smell the flowers I don’t see
Why should I write a poem
As beautiful as a tree
When no one else gives a ****
I should be hanging around friends
Rolling joints with the money for my rent
I should be the eternal narcissist
Like the one who sits above
But we’ll come to him later
Right now what I wanna know
Is what gives me the right to control
Everything I see
And everything I don’t
Coz frankly speaking
There’s a lot I don’t know
What gives me the right
To play with someone’s life
And blame it on ignorance?
I thought someone could tell me
Someone could answer
The stupidest question in the world
But if I ask someone
Why they’re doing something
They all say the same thing
Coz everyone else is.
Good.
So now we’ve got that cleared.
I’m doing what I’m doing
Because everyone else is doing what they’re doing
And everyone else is doing what they’re doing
Because I’m doing what I’m doing
To sum it up,
None of us know what any of us is doing
Or why they’re doing it.
Looks like we evolved backwards.
At least the apes knew what they were doing.
Sleep. Eat. **** Have *** Sleep.
That simple collection of words got what the people
Who call themselves the brainiest guys in the world didn’t:
Logic.
And I’ll tell you why they didn’t get it
Because they were the birdbrains
Who came up with the idea of a nuclear bomb
Which has really set the bar for human stupidity
No one can surpass that.
Because the ‘logic’ behind the nuclear bomb is
“You give me what I want
Or I’ll blow up your country”
People in the highest position of their respective countries
Spent money exceeding ten times the number of their population
On such nuclear bombs.
Which, in fact, they’ll never use.
True story.
Tell you the truth, I’d rather be a woodpecker.
Jun 6, 2012
Jun 6, 2012 at 1:37 PM UTC
By day she wooes me, soft, exceeding fair:
But all night as the moon so changeth she;
Loathsome and foul with hideous leprosy,
And subtle serpents gliding in her hair.
By day she wooes me to the outer air,
Ripe fruits, sweet flowers, and full satiety:
But through the night, a beast she grins at me,
A very monster void of love and prayer.
By day she stands a lie: by night she stands,
In all the naked horror of the truth,
With pushing horns and clawed and clutching hands.
Is this a friend indeed; that I should sell
My soul to her, give her my life and youth,
Till my feet, cloven too, take hold on hell?
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XXXII. TO SELENE (20 lines)
(ll. 1-13) And next, sweet voiced Muses, daughters of Zeus, well-
skilled in song, tell of the long-winged (35) Moon. From her
immortal head a radiance is shown from heaven and embraces earth;
and great is the beauty that ariseth from her shining light. The
air, unlit before, glows with the light of her golden crown, and
her rays beam clear, whensoever bright Selene having bathed her
lovely body in the waters of Ocean, and donned her far-gleaming,
shining team, drives on her long-maned horses at full speed, at
eventime in the mid-month: then her great orbit is full and then
her beams shine brightest as she increases. So she is a sure
token and a sign to mortal men.
(ll. 14-16) Once the Son of Cronos was joined with her in love;
and she conceived and bare a daughter Pandia, exceeding lovely
amongst the deathless gods.
(ll. 17-20) Hail, white-armed goddess, bright Selene, mild,
bright-tressed queen! And now I will leave you and sing the
glories of men half-divine, whose deeds minstrels, the servants
of the Muses, celebrate with lovely lips.
5.3k
173
A fuzzy fellow, without feet,
Yet doth exceeding run!
Of velvet, is his Countenance,
And his Complexion, dun!
Sometime, he dwelleth in the grass!
Sometime, upon a bough,
From which he doth descend in plush
Upon the Passer-by!
All this in summer.
But when winds alarm the Forest Folk,
He taketh Damask Residence—
And struts in sewing silk!
Then, finer than a Lady,
Emerges in the spring!
A Feather on each shoulder!
You’d scarce recognize him!
By Men, yclept Caterpillar!
By me! But who am I,
To tell the pretty secret
Of the Butterfly!
3.7k
It was in total a fast track ticket to the moon
and I can't return to transaction dock 8 too soon
the star checkout lane at my local supermarket
tops balloons with rocket science aeronautics
that pilot's service areas binary counter perfect
exceeding expectations bent into global orbit
My items sped along to muzak her slim milky way belt
a smile beaming discount countdowns heaven sent
taking off in bit lips when her priceless item buttons
almost burst free to air with a strain of special promotions
helpfully assisting my every excess flight of fancy
made impulse buys a baggage allowance necessity
She stroked parts of her radical laser station
to fully engage hygienic wiped spills of imagination
and I felt the warp of hyperdrive tangelo engines
urging me into a dive to scan juice ripe tangerines
a last minute save fuelled by stalling flashback cavities
gyrating in tight nets as we escaped earth's gravity
With a twist of her wrist I was into fits-the-bill ecstasy
as the whirr of electronics cut loose such quality
with a lick of an index finger our mission was bagged
handled too efficiently for any danger of jet lag
no flyby chance to not exchange standby coupons
my trolley emptied of offers too galactic to pass on
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC
Nights pass and I pick away at my skin.
Supine in this hallowed hollow of unwashed bedsheets and detritus
Spending my time, the most precious currency to date, trudging through virtual stacks of head shots of those I've known or half-known.
A healthy reminder that you are alone.
You are behind.
You ****** up early, kid.
You are behind in some sense, even if half the acquaintances pleasant or otherwise in your class are working jobs not much better than yours.
What I really hate is seeing joy.
Seeing these people and their ****** happiness, it's great.
Really strengthens the misanthropic beast I've been feeding all week
And it feels good, anger
Especially when the only other things I'm used to feeling are
worried or
bored
So its nice to indulge, I guess
I don't have to look for something to fuel my complaints, my bitter unwarranted jealousy –
that's an annoying component –
the awareness –
this would all be much more enjoyable if I didn't notice these things about myself
but noticing is a habit I've nourished
for years far exceeding
the time spent with a cigarette between my fingers
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 7:59 PM UTC
It's electric friction beneath the feet
Like stockcars locked on the inevitable path
Matching until meters burst
Exceeding the limit and flying off the track
With powerful pinpoints and frustrating fault lines
And the breaking of makeup on the skin most bold
It is a poker face across the way
And the frustrations of knowing that the crowd turns cold
Whenever you've failed to play perfectly within the fold
Tennis
Is the realization that you are IT, and all that which influences the bouncing ball
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 4:54 PM UTC
There's a typhoon a monsoon
Of catastrophic misery, agony, and doom
The pain keeps raining down
In my sorrow I will surely drown
An ocean of emotion and I can't swim
My soul's light is growing dim
The sky just keeps bleeding
My tolerance it's exceeding
In this inky blackness I am sinking
My soul keeps on shrinking
From this psychalgia there is no exception
There is no redemption
In this anguish
Is where I'll languish
In this tribulation I will suffer
There is no hope I will ever recover
In this desolation I will moan and wail
This despair is my last coffin nail
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 7:09 PM UTC
Exceeding tall, but built so well his height
Half-disappears in flow of chest and limb;
Moustache and whisker trooper-like in trim;
Frank-faced, frank-eyed, frank-hearted; always bright
And always punctual--morning, noon, and night;
Bland as a Jesuit, sober as a hymn;
Humorous, and yet without a touch of whim;
Gentle and amiable, yet full of fight.
His piety, though fresh and true in strain,
Has not yet whitewashed up his common mood
To the dead blank of his particular Schism.
Sweet, unaggressive, tolerant, most humane,
Wild artists like his kindly elderhood,
And cultivate his mild Philistinism.
2.8k
Beneath the fair blue face of Heaven, harp
In hand, a shepherd flats an A that's sharp.
He plucks and tunes and finds the perfect pitch
And plays a harmony exceeding rich.
The afternoon is hot, and all the sheep
Are full of grass and falling fast asleep.
Cotton ball clouds go slowly floating by
While drowsy songbirds neither sing nor fly.
Even the shiny fish in waters cool
Nap in the cooler shadows in the pool.
Save for the sound of rills that gently spill,
All things are silent. Everything is still.
So too a watchful lion keeping eyes
Upon a ewe lamb dozing where she lies.
As still as stone he stalks his sleepy prey:
He's waited patiently the livelong day.
And now the time has come to work his plan,
While most at ease is bird and beast and man.
He takes the first small steps in his approach,
Then breaks into a run and makes the poach.
Bewildered sheep in panic loudly bleat—
Asleep to wide awake in one heartbeat!
The shepherd's senses rush, and running down
The brute, he smites the beast upon his crown.
Dazed and confused, the lion drops the lamb
That lives but by the grace of Him, I AM.
The shepherd grabs the lion's beard, and, hair
In hand, he slays him (as he'll slay a bear.)
Returning safe the lamb unto the flock,
The shepherd goes and stands upon a rock.
He lifts his hands to God, and, singing psalms
Of praise, he gives the LORD his weather'd palms.
Cotton ball clouds go slowly floating by
As stars begin to twinkle in the sky.
Feb 17, 2023
Feb 17, 2023 at 1:08 PM UTC
Main and master goal
I stand in gaze
In a gaze that admires you
I stand in amaze
And wonder
And wonder why all these thoughts ponder
Why these thoughts take priority above all other
These thoughts of you
That has lit a liquid-oxygen combusted fire
And now I stand trapped
Trapped in this legitimate feeling of attraction
My concentration depleted
My heart weeps
Weeps for the dungeon I've fallen in
My heart weeps
It weeps like a waterfall
Tears that keep running down the face of my heart
Your voice that resonates in my soul
Like a viral infection that has pierced my heart
Your beauty has undressed these naked eyes
Now
The only thought I have is you
My heart has changed its pattern into...
Into a pattern that spells your Name
I close my eyes and echoed images live in the darkness of these shut eyes
Your voice has broken the silence in me
For I have savored it
You relentlessly entered my heart
Engraved your name on it
Slowly I'm tearing in the inside
I'm going insane
Pain, no!
Affectionate attraction, Yes!
A weeping heart I have
A weeping heart that is manifesting it all
As in my manifestation
I ought to be the leader of the nation inside me
The creator of my inner creation
Forgotten about the future
I live in the past of your creation
For all that entirely matters in the near future is:
My main and master mission
In vision with my main and master goal
Past the sleepless nights' tension
Past the deception of animations artificiality and into all reality
Past my minds permission; it's approval
Exceeding my potential but placing me in that position
Disregarding all competition
I stand and watch in 3rd person perspective
My heart has risen like dust
Even though it's dark my shadow has betrayed me; your smile shines through like lights rays
The visible weeping heart is translucent
My thoughts have become wishes
Wishes exceeding my boundaries of limits
Because my mission and master goal is for you to be mine...
By: Magnus Master Robinson
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 10:08 AM UTC
In the former life I led
I had no way of filling
The empty grave of one who's dead
My pride was e'r willing
I had an ego overblown
In pompous boasts exceeding
But I was lost and all alone
My soul was torn and bleeding
I had abilities and then
Became a prideful bearer
Of all the things that I could do
At last I was in error
Even when I knew The Lord
Made charity my pleasure
My works became my righteousness
Above my only Treasure
Christ died in vain upon his cross
If my beliefs adhered to
And I rejected precious Grace
That was the point I came to
How can I live a sinless life?
I am without that merit
Jesus lived that life for me
So Grace I could inherit!
So here I am to tell you all
Pride is like a cancer
I will boast in Jesus Christ
For He's the only answer
SoulSurvivor
(C) 4/23/2016
*"I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no power, no wisdom
I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection
Why would I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom."
How Great The Father's Love*
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 1:11 AM UTC
What of empty words
like love without feelings
a currency without a bank
to back it up,
words expressed but not felt
spent in amounts
exceeding their value.
What of love
felt but not expressed
deep like a vault
where the most precious possessions are kept,
or deep like a mine
where the yawning veins
provide only hints of their great worth
a little bit at a time.
We are growing an economy
and between us we can pass
Assignats or Continentals
to our hearts desire,
and yet when our hearts yearn for more
it will only be the shining coin of the realm
the pearl of desire
that is assayed between us
and only then will our economy stand or
fall by what is backing
our promise to pay the bearer on demand
and redeem ourselves in return.
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 9:58 PM UTC
Exposition
Exploration
Examination
Experimentation
Exhibition
Experience
Exercise
Excelsior
Explosion
Exposure
Expansion
Exceeding
Excitement
Excellence
except
Excessive
Expectations
Excuses
Exclamation
Excommunication
Excluded
Excreted
Exorcised
Expunged
Exacerbation
Exhale
Exit
Exeunt
Extinct
Ex-Star
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 3:06 AM UTC
It has been four years
and I have not written a better poem
than the best poem I have ever written,
stuck in a repetitive loop
of not good enough,
never exceeding
what I was once able to do
my fingers ache for another masterpiece
but my brain refuses to provide
any sort of solace that would come with
writing a good poem,
a great poem,
something that would make me proud again
Jun 29, 2021
Jun 29, 2021 at 6:12 PM UTC
This can’t be what’s really going on now
Taking it in, slick grin, mixed in with the same scowl
None of it matters,
What’s done is done
I could’ve tried harder
I could have won
It’s time to save, or give away freely
It’s all insane, please stack it up neatly
I can be wrong, darlin’, I’m only one man
It’s borderline freezing
Come, take my hand
They swept you away, and let you down easy
To my dismay, repeating, exceeding
Every single day I live, gives away it’s true meaning
Left alone in my bed, could be self defeating
I raise up from my bed, tell us what you’re feeling
I’m in need of aid, to begin the healing
All that is important,
Under the stitching and the seems,
Is a vast, solemn assortment, of runaway dreams
Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 4:32 AM UTC
Has your soul sipped
Of the sweetness of all sweets?
Has it well supped
But yet hungers and sweats?
I have been witness
Of a strange sweetness,
All fancy surpassing
Past all supposing.
Passing the rays
Of the rubies of morning,
Or the soft rise
Of the moon; or the meaning
Known to the rose
Of her mystery and mourning.
Sweeter than nocturnes
Of the wild nightingale
Or than love's nectar
After life's gall.
Sweeter than odours
Of living leaves,
Sweeter than ardours
Of dying loves.
Sweeter than death
And dreams hereafter
To one in dearth
Or life and its laughter.
Or the proud wound
The victor wears
Or the last end
Of all wars.
Or the sweet ******
After long guard
Unto the martyr
Smiling at God;
To me was that smile,
Faint as a wan, worn myth,
Faint and exceeding small,
On a boy's murdered mouth.
Though from his throat
The life-tide leaps
There was no threat
On his lips.
But with the bitter blood
And the death-smell
All his life's sweetness bled
Into a smile.
2.3k
1.i took a breath, punched the door. he asked if it helped at all,
rubbed his temples when i did it again,
told me to call him when i felt like talking,
we havent spoken since. he isnt important to this story.
what matters is how unsafe i feel just saying your name, how unreal
you make me feel. imaginary and implausible. wish fulfillment so blatant
im amazed i ever thought i was something more
than a myth.
2. i can't give you what you want/couldn't give you what you want. something like a romance film,
candles on the shore,
not blown out by ocean winds.
something where i cry your name or
kiss you when you shout
instead of screaming back,
perfect plaster queen crumbling
for no one but you.
where i sing and you sigh.
where at least one of us cares.
3. im still not sure who's to blame
my heart is swollen my hands are bloated there is motor oil
pooling in the hollow of my palms, did you do this to me?
did i unravel you? im still not sure what happened. i stopped asking for help a long time ago
4. i do not feel safe.
you are behind me always.
i am sweating bullets and you are loading your gun.
you are a breakdown waiting to happen.
you are my genes planning treason.
5. you're a fake.you're a fake.you're a fake.
buying me coffee and spitting down my throat like
it evens out in the end.you're so kind.you say youd never hurt me as if
i couldnt see my ******* intestines in your fist. you're a fake.
you're pyrite, fool's gold,
costume jewelry cutting off circulation to my hand.
6. i know everything sounds the same.
i know i give the same speech every time.
i know repetition is getting old and
six breakdowns in the same month is
overdoing it. i was trained from birth to **** up my life
and im exceeding expectations.
7. [image: memorial day card,
'we had nothing worth remembering' inside,
hallmark logo on the back]
8. i didnt really want to be real anyway
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 3:41 AM UTC
"When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy."
Please shine on me tonight,
I beg you.
I want to be happy
again.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 7:04 AM UTC
I have laid claim to the Tyne Bridge - it is my home.
You can keep the streets, the shops, the bars
Share them between you
But please
Let me have the bridge for myself.
The bottle green arch of Newcastle,
And the stew of water that runs beneath
The sheer drop of air between them,
Lightly salted by the sea.
It is but the only childish affectation
To follow me and hold true
Through the contaminant of temporality.
Just please, let me keep it.
I shed the skin of adolescence
And left my school tie at home
When I made the journey North.
I arrived expecting transcendence
But instead I received the unwanted gift of the present.
From the clamour of Manhattan,
To the desolation of New Mexico and Peru,
The present will forever be the most effective ammunition
In shattering the stained glass of the world’s wonders.
I know this from the beauty of memories.
Those wonderful fragmented images of childhood
That so efficiently cut out the hours of exceeding boredom,
And the tedium inflicted by the men in suits.
And the future,
The future of flying ships,
The mining of the moon
And downloadable pizza.
But we know in truth, when we arrive
There will still be lawyers
And adverts,
Beggars on the street
And apostrophe’s used incorrectly.
I digress.
Let me return to the Tyne Bridge
My bridge on the Quayside.
For despite the bird ****
And the playboys that trundle over it day after day,
It stands defiant over deep waters,
Daring to cheat death
Or vice versa.
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 9:33 PM UTC