"exhileration" poems
Sleeplessness
Brought to you by sparkling espresso in a can
I have underestimated you yet again, oh humble coffee bean
But back to work
Eight tabs open, going back and forth
It's nothing short of a miracle if any given task is given more than a minute of attention at a time
Muscle spasms, trembling, fascinating
Overwhelming urge to mindlessly flex the muscles I don't have
Fake machissimo brought about by exhauation?
Or the exhileration of having to complete 8 projects in a day
While simultaneously trying to grasp a breaking down of my mind which hasn't happened since...forever
Hmm
These are the prime conditions to breed a taxing marathon of productivity
Or a chain of costly impulsive decisions to perpetuate procrastination.
Signs that someone is going crazy range from ****** to inability to stick to a single topic to excessive use of run on sentences
"How meta, acknowledging your insanity deconstructs the very notion of it if you normalize it within yourself and just look as everyone else as crazy! Ha.ha."
That made no sense, i don't think.
I like using big words to make myself sound smart you can make anyone believe anything if you use big words also it scares those
Hippopotomonstroesquipedaliophobixlcs
Grumble grumble
Good night/morning/whatever
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 11:55 PM UTC
Is this just teenage love or something deeper then that.
Many people say its just teenage love
That were too younge to know what True Love is
How can you know what true love isif you never experienced it.
Is it simply a wishful prayer
A fire that ignites in your heart
A playful giggle
A rosy blush
A risky wink
Or even a kindly smile?
True love can be anything
A tender understanding of one another
A growing warmth in your soul
A gentle trust between two lovers
Or a passion of fire that takes over
Does the world become lost in a crazy wild nonsese?
A happy oblivion of exhileration
Complete and total joy
An innocent kiss in the moonlight
Cherishing every given moment
Honor, loyalty, and protection
Or is it something that simply lasts forever?
How do you know what true love is
Can anyone tell you?
The answer to that is no
You and you alone know if its simply teenage love or true love!
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 9:38 AM UTC
A knee length scream rebounds down the empty hall,
The walls as bear as her legs, which bear her away from the roar.
Not far behind, another set of legs, another set of pleats,
This time the floor reflects polished black and matt twill
And a slippery set of sneaky misogynies disguised as paternal concern.
But a good father does not stare at his daughter's legs.
He worries, as does his running child, about the man who's gaze is perpetually set a foot or two below eye level.
But when it wanders, as it "always must," our daughter rebukes his lust,
And her first and last words muster the might of all daughters and sons.
And she stands on her chair, so that this time his eyes are looking level,
And bellows from the fog of anger that had been slowly settling about her uncovered ankles.
You can imagine how that went down.
So sprinting, whooping, echoing across the school,
Her cries of exhileration tug spirits out of rooms.
The path of the pin-straight Man is blocked by the faces of his children,
He trips on their blue hair, their white shoelaces, and their black denim hems,
And as he falls she rises, out of her skirt and above the regime,
For neither define her as a separate being,
Nor as a string in the weave that catches that pastoral shin
And catapults the shepherd into the stampede of the sheep.
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 5:22 PM UTC
She sat in the artist's warehouse
listening to the quick drip drops of fresh rain
becoming polluted as they passed through rusted drains
and lightly onto pot-holed puddles filled with crushed cigarettes.
She let her warm breath
spool into the air and fill the silence,
she closed her eyes, smiled,
a private moment to recall
what made her smile,
what made her sit in the artist's warehouse writing poetry
rhymes about how light her heart felt,
how clean and fresh the air she breathed was,
how she couldn't keep herself from smiling
when she thought of him,
how he touched her,
looked at her,
how he breathed into her
an earth shattering exhileration
of posisbility, curiosity, fascination
and unexpected livlihood....
She opened her eyes
and caught her breath,
as she did every time
she thought of him
and how he made her feel.
She uncrossed her legs
threw back her head
and came one step closer
to understanding what it was
she wanted
for her heart.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 6:21 PM UTC
I love the idea of identities,
but hate the nomenclature of names.
Names, stubborn in their own finitude
never seem to satisfy as description.
They are pricetags handled roughly by
the obese woman behind the
counter.
Rung up, given a value, bagged
without ceremony.
And when the job is done, she offers a verse.
Identity–much sooner forgotten,
transcends description.
At times, as static as a name,
but with potential for progress
be it in the mundanity of the positive
or the exhileration of negativity.
Identity is definition beyond words–
not so constrained by action or thoughts as
personality, or
as dreadfully uncontrollable as genetics.
Blessed with relativity
it is the “who” behind the why and how
where “when” and “what”
matter less than from which horizon the sun desires
to peek when it wakes.
It is perspective filtered through perspective;
a treasure undeserving of a
bill of sale.
Yet so easily sold
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 10:55 PM UTC
I had been eye peeping sleep hoping
that counting sheep would send me
elsewhere and an attack of
messages erupted my phone
a lot more than that erupted from within
rush
exhileration
that rumble from screaming throats
pouncing at falling waters
my hands shook
my breath didn't know what it was
the door seemed weightless and heads snapped
but mine looked oh so far for oh so much
more valuable than the cost of pool time
you looked at me
and it hurt
eye contact that pierced
that night I left something
that night I saw more
that night I remember
you whole
and that night I felt
like I wish I cam back the
year before
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
paint me in your delication,
softer beams of coloured shape
golden grins, exhileration
oh how i hope to laugh again
salty odour, shiny face
born of sunlight, yellow taste
kiss me 40°, cascade waves
drink me up, I'm yours today
sunset eyelids curl in smirk
bluer skies have been upturned
parallels, and play pretend
summer then, summer again
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 11:42 PM UTC
A nuetron star born in a silent room for a breif moment. A cascading caphoney cracked and cratered my cranium in a moment of concious exhileration. Dumb struck and reeling as i found my self in the malestrom of a magnificant multichromatic multiverse. Touching to touch what crazy subconcious thing have you seeded into my mind.
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 7:55 PM UTC
The toes of my shoes jut out over the edge of the building.
The ground is so, so far below, but I swear it calls my name.
My blood aches for the feel of the fall,
My nerves hunger for the impact, for the ending I have
Decided to write for myself.
Someone down there sees me, I see his mouth mouthing
Words. I know they are "stop, no."
But all I hear is, "please, go."
I let one foot hang off the side, carve my name in the air.
I am ready, I am ready, I am ready.
My heart beats a ragged bruise against my chest;
I call it anticipation. I think of all the no ones that will
Read my last words, I think of all the no ones that will grieve
For whatever remains of me after I have gone.
It has only been one minute,
Two minutes,
Three minutes.
I'm waiting for the bells, the two o'clock bells,
To tell me it's time. I was born at two in the afternoon
and I will die at two in the afternoon.
I do not allow myself to think about my life.
I am closing that door. That body of thought is not mine anymore,
Nor is it a friend. I am holding hands with death, he is
Inviting me across the street. Maybe we'll have tea together
At 2:01, maybe 2:02.
I check my watch; it's 1:59.
I'm counting down the seconds. I feel a certain relief, a certain
Spring in the ***** of my feet.
My freedom is ten seconds away.
Five.
Two.
1,000 feet
I take a deep breath, fill my lungs with it, and I leap.
The air whistles in my ears, it burns my eyes.
I cannot release my breath.
500 feet
It burns, it hurts, it aches; life did not ache this badly.
I cannot control my body, I am not grace,
I am not freedom, I am not free, I am not relief.
I am not nothing.
200 feet
I am something, I am human, I am exhileration,
I am love, I am pure, I am able, I am worthy.
100
50
25
10
5
I have made
an irreparable mistake.
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
there, it pierced my skin.
blood gushes out like fireworks in the night sky.
the pain gave me the life i've been longing.
years of existential dolor, culminating to this.
the sharp, searing pain.
demons in my brain—expunged at that moment.
sordid as you may call me, i have never felt more alive.
how much more is the blackout that follows this?
i want more of this.
the frissons of excitement that i feel in every drop.
i faint to the exhileration, but not before i smear
the tears of red on my face, the floor, my body.
i am now an effigy.
a mannequin, go burn me now and i'll cherish
every single moment of my flesh searing
as i languish in pain, but with a boisterous laugh!
i wanted pain.
life never gave me pleasure—the rapture of being alive.
all it gave me were the torment of misadventures.
i longed pain for so long, i'll savor every drop.
more. i yearn for more.
my visual blackouts are nearing, and the darkness—
it's waiting for me like a long lost brother, unseen.
i am ready to devote myself to a new life.
stop.
i don't want this.
nothing waits for me but an eternal darkness.
the void of which i'll spend the whole eternity.
it's too late.
i hear the door open.
my mom winces in shock.
she lets out a piercing shout
as painful as a bulldozer crushing me into splinters.
didn't you want this?
you've had a vehement yearning for liberation
for so long.
stop
you have no place in this world.
you are a nonentity in this world.
no i'm not
your life is nothing but an illusion.
mom, i'm sorry
the darkness envelops my vision into jet black.
i can no longer think.
what have i done
my brain is shutting down.
mom, i'm sorry
goodbye.
27/09/2018
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 11:07 AM UTC