"expend" poems
Where's the edge in your rhyme schemes?
No wedge between my time and my themes.
You make cents while you don't make sense,
play dense when you mistake tense.
In my defense,
I expend to no end, at no expense.
Hide intense behind offense,
a generic's scend is too immense.
Son of sin, son of suns and runes.
Father of win, father of puns and tunes.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC
783
The Birds begun at Four o’clock—
Their period for Dawn—
A Music numerous as space—
But neighboring as Noon—
I could not count their Force—
Their Voices did expend
As Brook by Brook bestows itself
To multiply the Pond.
Their Witnesses were not—
Except occasional man—
In homely industry arrayed—
To overtake the Morn—
Nor was it for applause—
That I could ascertain—
But independent Ecstasy
Of Deity and Men—
By Six, the Flood had done—
No Tumult there had been
Of Dressing, or Departure—
And yet the Band was gone—
The Sun engrossed the East—
The Day controlled the World—
The Miracle that introduced
Forgotten, as fulfilled.
5.6k
The desert is a killer
An unforgiving foe
Be careful how you handle her
Take things very slow
If you are lost in her confines
Be careful where you go
It is best to hunker down
If you're in the know
Your enemy is water loss
Long sleeves are a must
Head cover is primary
A wide brim you can trust
Cover every inch of skin
Cover up your mouth
Do not expend your energy
Go north instead of south
North of cliffs you hide from sun
It's the sun that kills
Stay where you are... IMPORTANT!
Unless you have good skills
You can find water sometimes
By following the birds
Deer and other animals
This is what I've heard
Pile stones in cairns
Make arrows from sticks
Showing your direction
So rescuers find it
Always move at night
The temperature will plummet
Sometimes it gets very cold
And people do die from it
It is best to wear light clothing
Conserve body water, dont sweat much
The desert rats drink often
But do not eat their lunch
It is best not to eat it all
Or eat cactus fruit and such
It contains good water
But don't eat a lot. Don't munch.
water, *Water, WATER!*
Drink this at all costs!
Find shelter from the sun
If you do get lost
Going to the high ground
So you can see the land
Finding habitation
Of folks living in sand
Carry maps when possible
Carry Bowie knives
If you wear thick glasses
A fire could save lives!
Make a fire in the desert
Create light and smoke
Magnify the burning sun
With the glasses of which I spoke
Hand sanitizer can be a help
In starting any flame
Put lots of stuff creating smoke
Getting helps the game!
But stay out of the fire's heat
Unless you're very cold
Always conserve water
It is liquid gold!
Carry a Camelbak
A backpack with a tube
To drink the water easily
These are often used
Travel light! Important!
Conserve your energy
So you don't lose water
Analyze your ***
If it is light like lemonade
You're probably ok
If it's very dark
You'll need water that day
Keep your head, don't panic
It's best to keep your cool
You can think! You have a mind!
These tips are simply tools
There are other tips
To Google in your strife
Carrying a cell phone
Could just save your life!
SoulSurvivor
(C) 9/18/2016
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
I envy those who can eat without conscience
I long for the infamous day when "things will get better"
I strive for an impossibility that I can feel within my reach
I expend the necessary energy to achieve a negative net
My mind rattles with number and limits
Counting the minutes 'til my next meal
Portion control and restrictions
Fighting the urges of binges
They say I'm just skin and bones
But what I see is all I'll know
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 10:51 AM UTC
the lads are in tandem, biking well together
the lads are in tandem, biking well together
such is their dedication, on spec 24/7
such is their dedication, on spec 24/7
such is their dedication, biking well together
on spec 24/7, the lads are in tandem
they've a task to do, preserving their allotment
they've a task to do, preserving their allotment
strength and resources they expend, their energies focused
strength and resources they expend, their energies focused
preserving their allotment, strength and resources they expend
they've a task to do, their energies focused
the territory they range, both seeking thoroughness
the territory they range, both seeking thoroughness
again to-day they're in unison, their labors may yet pay off
again to-day they're in unison, their labors may yet pay off
again to-day they're in unison, both seeking thoroughness
the territory they range, their labors may yet pay off
both seeking thoroughness, they've a task to do
again to-day they're in unison, preserving their allotment
biking well together, they're labors may yet pay off
strength and resources they expend, the territory they range
on spec 24/7, the lads in tandem
such is their dedication, their energies focused
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC
543
I fear a Man of frugal Speech—
I fear a Silent Man—
Haranguer—I can overtake—
Or Babbler—entertain—
But He who weigheth—While the Rest—
Expend their furthest pound—
Of this Man—I am wary—
I fear that He is Grand—
3.4k
what's given forth may come out true
we lose at first just so we learn
the complex tricks and in our turn
teach each young one to pay their due
expend a little and discern
what's given forth may come out true
each change will mean the world made new
by other hands and thus we yearn
to see the old fires once more burn
what's given forth may come out true
May 28, 2011
May 28, 2011 at 2:06 PM UTC
Let’s go on an odyssey, an epic
we’ll never forget. Let’s turn the world upside down,
fall into the sky, fly at light speed
and wish on white dwarfs and red giants.
I don’t want to wait for the time it takes light to travel
across a vacuum. Take my hand and we’ll reach
farther than footprints on the moon, brush off the dust
and jump. Impossible is the space between our fingers.
Let’s sail across the ocean, feeding fish and taming sharks.
We’ll swim to the depths, tickle coral,
watching polyps break free.
I want to learn to glow like jellyfish,
lose my eyes to detect predators.
We can lay out on the sand and let the sun turn water
into gas.
Let’s shrink to atoms and build proteins,
untwist DNA just to watch it coil into chromosomes,
increase ATP just to expend it.
Did you know one electron makes oxygen a free radical?
It builds up in your system just
to break you down.
I’ll be your helicase and you’ll be mine.
We’ll replicate, transcribe, translate.
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 8:38 PM UTC
a jealous heart
wants no more
than to forgive.
even when there
is nothing to be
forgiven.
this pulsing, throbbing energy,
takes refuge where you choke.
terribly sick from the throat.
my chest is a boat, and the
drowning doesn't cease with the life jacket.
vibrant and not easily forgotten
and yet still, you seem to have forgotten
what it is like to breathe with me, or rather
my feelings escape me as soon as I achieve the ability to explain them.
I reject the first thoughts that I recognize as uncomfortable
and give them to you for further translation, yet the energy within
those very words haven't diluted before they reach you and you spit
them back as "Ego".
I cannot help myself as much as I'd like to,
yet I try.
I cannot remove the parts of myself which I see in you,
yet I try,
because of the terrible, knee in my gut feeling,
and the rejection of willingness to expend your energy to help me find happiness,
because somehow if you can make me feel intensely about any emotion,
then to you that means I am only happy when you make it so.
**** that idea.
I make myself happy, I make myself sad, I make myself whatever the hell I want to,
although I sometimes fall into feelings, (a mistake which only proves more the imperfections
of being human), and the lack of control over everything.
Yet I try to take heed and pay attention to myself and how what I do effects others.
You bring immense energy, but you are not the source of my life, my light, or my darkness.
We simply share both,
from your prism to mine
and back again.
I shine through you and make color
and you shine through me to do the same.
We help cast shadows and peek through darkness,
******* hell, my heart feels so raw that I think it forgot how to break.
A jealous heart
wants nothing
more than to forgive,
and be forgiven.
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 2:29 PM UTC
I spend much of my life
within the confines of my mind
Some days I am unsure
Whether I am dead or Alive
But the medication that I cling to
removes the existential fear
and allows my thoughts to relax
yet, it also seems to suppress my wonder
Without the pills,
I can intently watch myself write
As each stroke of my small wrist
Leaves grey stains across the blank page
With them, I can feel happiness
I can detach myself from life's pain
and realize my distractions
instead of permitting them to anchor my heart
But with my medicine I cannot create
not in the ways I wish to
They build a border between substance and surface
while it blocks out the depression
it also limits my humanity
Yet, if I were to quit taking them
the darkness would return to haunt my world
strangling my limbs, until I have no will to fight
or even to move for that matter
Without them, I can expend myself
in this art that has kept my heart beating
My emotions can freely guide my movements
in the hopes of creating something beautiful
But those pills have also saved my life
and yet, they have a dark side too
The anxiety they breed produce
such a significant strain on my actions
that I can't tell if I'm truly living
So as I sit in this barren hallway
listening to the echoes that disrupt the silence
I wonder whether my temporary refrain from my "lifelines"
will lead to my success or my demise.
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 12:50 PM UTC
I want to live my life effortfully.
I want to expend my energy while I have it and chase things that are meaningful if only to anyone but myself.
I want to feel in my bones that I am god. My own personal god. The voice I hear in my head, I want to know without a doubt her power.
Jun 27, 2022
Jun 27, 2022 at 9:28 PM UTC
Who am I? What am I?
It's been a while since I cried
Am I a brain on top of a body?
Just processor performing code?
Well, who wrote the code?
Who wrote it?
It's been a while since I was I
I'm not a brain, I have one
I've got hardware put there by Someone else
Who am I?
I'm a computer running software I didn’t write
I'm a soul interacting with a body, a brain
Whose health I neglect on a reg
What am I?
I'm a decaying accumulation of skin
And blood and bone and neurons
I got neurons in my heart
And that's a good place to start
The heart is the mouthpiece of the soul
My identity gets tied up in the whole
Idea of my performance
And my influence
Like if I sing a song badly, my soul takes the hit
And if I lead my partner astray, the whole of me is ****
The whole of me is ****
There's holes in me
But who put them there?
I combust in small increments
My skin flies off in perfect circles
They're fragments
My heart, it's hiding behind these explosions
Hiding behind them because it causes them
Because my mouthpiece is expressing my hate
My lack of love for myself
Hate is just a word we put on the shelf
It's like darkness and coldness
Describing something through absence
Darkness; the absence of light
Coldness; the absence of heat
If hate is the absence of love I might
Just be the one who beats me
Who defeats me
Who carries my heart, my brain, the rest of me
Tied around my neck on a string that I pull through
Like my body is in captivity
I'm privileged to honor this body that I didn’t make
I'm greatly gifted a brain to maintain
My heart, my body, my brain
They shouldn't be strangling me
They shouldn't be dragged through the dirt
They should be a part of me
I am a soul
I have a mouthpiece
My heart is my mouthpiece
My brain is my hardware
That rusts and which I expend
God help me love me
And Who I am
And Who You are
God, make it so apparent to me in my falling out
That I am a part of the three-legged stool
To Love You before all else
To Love everyone else
And to Love myself
Help me see You accurately
God help me
God help this American switch culture
I am not a machine that functions at the flip
Of a switch
I am a soul, a CVT, a cable that climbs up and down
Depending on the speed of the wheels
And decelerating is okay
And (not but) accelerating is wonderful
I do not go 60MPH because I flipped a switch
I go 70MPH because I climb
I climb
God help me climb
And to falter well
And to suffer well
Humble me in my faltering suffering
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 11:07 PM UTC
There's a light inside me that glows in anticipation,
there's the constant wait, the careful gait
the looking over shoulders for to take
away all thoughts of others
breaking bonds of making face
knocking shoulders, stifling
sounds for sights to take in solitude
my toes itch, my legs jump, i sit still.
in the light are overwhelming expressions
and the shadows of repressions
and stagnant silences to fill.
the room tilts my screen into someone else's eyes,
i wish, i wish
the thought of running and dancing into cries
i wish
the ground could pound against my feet and into my heart
i wish
for sleep - not mine, but the world's
do you understand?
(i'd give up the sun to run in the dark)
i can't live with you, i can't live without you,
i can't live with myself
movements are too constrained when you
expend so much energy towards
thought
i wish i could show you the things i've sought
i wish i could show you my world
i wish i could show you my woes
i wish i could share with you my happiest moments
Don't shut me down or I'll hate you like I hate the parts of myself I don't share.
and i won't even know it, either way
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 5:18 PM UTC
You had me at
“I didn’t know you had brown eyes,”
the day I wiped my security locks of hair
from my face
to get a better look at you.
Look in my eyes like mirrors.
The reflection of my sentiment
made you Narcissist.
And the osmosis of our gaze
blessed you beautiful.
You are welcome.
I gave all.
Eyes, and ears,
and mouth, and rainbows.
Until you left me Mr. Potato.
My barren anatomy makes for a
raw piggy bank of deja vu.
Your silver dollars clunk through my Hollow.
Never rust.
You wonder why I
never let go.
Bankruptcy has me petrified.
Putting park walks into penny stocks
waiting to cash in on
two kisses during Christmas time.
Hoping you invest as much in me.
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 1:57 AM UTC
His life, he’d been frequently told,
Was a stepping stone to
Something better. His growing religious convictions
Taught him about the different levels
Of god.
The innocent child, sacrificial man, distant father,
Steadfast sister and mother.
It taught him not to lust after his pretty neighbours,
Man or woman, nor to daydream
Of unlikely trysts with all the inherent dangers
Involved but to expend his energies
In religious ecstasy instead
Agonising inwardly over the beatitude
And the internal landscape of the soul.
By the time he was forty, he reckoned
He’d got a raw deal. No money, no career,
No friends, just a lot of ****** prayers.
They put her coffin gently in
And he cried, watching it disappear
Unable to think of heaven.
He was not consoled now
By thoughts of
Infinite life.
The slow sounding of a repetitious tune
Amongst cloudy vistas of
Over egged benevolence.
He’d missed the boat, through
Worshipping too much. A rotund
Middle-aged man
With a sagging mind, brown teeth
And old fashioned clothes.
All he had now were his church
And his mother’s dying friends.
He threw dust over his mother’s grave
And walked softly away.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 1:00 AM UTC
Exhausted
old
he exerts himself
no longer
Nothing left
no energy to expend
for simple
useless
survival
He does not eat
or sleep
but calmly closes his eyes
dying
at last
drifting with the tide
and
returns once more
to land
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 7:12 AM UTC
We think it's in the protection:
above, the vast canopy called Sky;
then we want freedom
when pervasive is intrusive
and seek shelter
Searching, we expend lives. Rain
finds a way in, we run seeking new.
We think this is unique,
then neither vast not endless,
but blobs floating in space:
it is in the beauty of illusion; then
disbelieve, hopping bruised on.
Neither in protection nor in freedom
nor in anything other;
Under the canopy again,
up on a hill, until
buried deep somewhere in us,
we see, it was there, all along,
and we grow up.
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 1:05 PM UTC
Let’s turn the world upside down
and fall into the sky.
Take my hand and we’ll reach
farther than the footprints on the moon.
Brush off the dust
and I’ll watch as the stars twinkle
in your eyes, impossible
is the space between our interlocked fingers.
Let’s sail across the ocean,
feeding fish and taming sharks.
We’ll swim to the depths
and tickle coral, watching
polyps expend.
We can lay out on sand
and let the sun turn water
into gas.
Let’s climb atoms
and build molecules,
untwist DNA just to watch
as it springs back, increase
ATP just to expend it.
Did you know that one electron
can make oxygen a free radical?
It builds up in your system
just to break you down.
One word can be the difference
between the truth and lie.
One choice can be the difference
between this world
and the next.
I’d hand you my heart if you asked.
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 6:35 PM UTC
When I grew out of my adolescence
I lost my crippling thrist to write
I stopped cutting myself in my early 20's;
just like the research articles said I would
Disorder direction, however,
was not the cause of my coping correction
I moved away from rampant tantrums
Sliding down the slope of sufferance
I used to write to externalize my internal desperation
My frustration with the life I was given*
*(Certainly not the choices I've made)
Over a decade of time has aged me
From a helpless girl, to an impassive woman
Submissive to circumstance
Now, I chain bricks to my ankles
And throw myself in the sea of apathy
I will not expend the energy to care,
but rather intentionally strive for indifference
In doing so, I sacrifice my desire to write…
Losing desperation makes me hollow
Then again, helplessness is for children.
I am a woman now.
I no longer crave the ability to describe my emotions
Asking for help is not a viable option anymore
I've tried that long enough
May 17, 2022
May 17, 2022 at 9:50 PM UTC
She speaks of truth in her every lie
We saw a calumny in a wolf's cry
Her words had sprung a thousand wraith
Dragging herself to hell's scorching gate.
We watched her as she lifts the curse
A harbinger for what could be worse
The antagonist of a hundred episodes
Reached epiphany as her secret unfolds.
Like a canary in a lion's cage
Devoured soon by the teeth of rage
She chose silence over vindication
Such a piety of a lost religion.
A game she started but could not end
For what its worth, a life to expend
A boomerang of the Death's scythe
Kindred heads are all there is to writhe.
Your glorious days are gone with the wind
As Justice judged all those who sinned
Now you sit alone in that morbid chair
And a familiar scent shall fill the air.
Verily, you will bear the shame
And stain the sake of your clan's name
As our eyes watch in the shadows of the fray
To claim what was ours, a hunted prey.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 3:37 AM UTC
Imagine Complete Annihilation
Imagine it
First drain the colour from the world
Pour metaphorical bleach on the landscape
The lively green of the foliage
Is now a lethargic grey
The placid blue of the sky an angry black
Each cloud remains unpainted
Next expend the energy
***** its skin with this hypothetical needle
And induce a coma
Watch monochrome bees roll over in bed, unwilling to go to work
Vultures lying down with their dinner; corpse pillows
Sloth is the new God
Then purge the life
Draw your figurative razor across its jugular
Don’t worry, it’s humane: the victim’s already sleeping
And when yours is the only soul still tied down
Burn the pile of non-rotting flesh
(even the saprophytes are gone; death doesn’t revile anymore),
Gnash your teeth and throw yourself atop it
You’re almost done, now expunge your senses
Deaden the sound: halt the airflow through this graveyard
But remember that there is no silence
Dampen the light: pinprick each pixel till it pops
But remember that there is no dark
Cry “Begone!” to the wind and feel no more
But remember that there is no numbness
Cut out your tongue and relax
But remember that there are no memories
Finally call last orders on Time
Find each clock, smash it, don’t worry about the glass
There is no pain anymore
There is finally nothing
Imagine
Now accomplish this horrendous task
In the space & time-frame of a single breath
Learn
That what you godless fools call death
We of faith, however little, call hell
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 3:56 PM UTC
Rotunda of doors
Select an arbitrary gateway
Rotate a frigid bronze **** and dislodge
Gaze into an opaque, stone encircled realm
Proceed through the division
Inhale damp, stale earth
Hesitate in a moment of hair-raising atmosphere
Ignore and tread slow
Ignore the echo of the sole warmth emanating in rapid succession from within
Ignore the nagging to turn back
Do so anyways
Realize pupils dilate when the entrance is not visible
Debate possibilities
Feel pointless muscle movement pulling white eyes for stimulus
Exhale tension melting air
Whine and tread against small stalagmites
Extend palm forward and to the side
Grasp for sight
Grab nothing
Constrict throat down
Acknowledge and accept the situation
Continue onward
Stumble against a solid
Release pain
Trace the direction of hopelessness
Follow with purposeful motions
Brush against another impediment
Successfully avoid
Allow air to flow against dry tongue
Taste lifelessness and potential
Release resolution and determination
Gain momentum
Allow ears to beg for rays of sun
Decide resiliency
Pant and expend time
Sense vision assimilating
Investigate the environment
Crouch and take in the floor
Gasp and whimper
Behold bones
Three sixty and engage all faculties
Cower as truth speaks: labyrinth.
Lift chin and only stone above.
And collapse, collapse onto knees in dramatic fashion
With back arched over, hands grasping and pulling at hair
Fight against reality.
Terror eviscerates.
Submit on to the parasitic solid inorganic void.
Become more bones.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 2:29 PM UTC
Solomon tells God not to forget his promises he made to his father, David, of successors and protection.
. . . . . . .
I wonder what his promises are to me
if he has made any at all.
But if he has not
he has in a million small and large matters
protected me
except when I didn’t allow him to
which is probably most of the time.
Dare I expend the energy
to mentally list these matters?
I seem so lazy
when I think of my parents and how they sacrificed
their pleasure and comfort for me,
when I think of the pain I caused Mom
from the first weeks of conception on.
Oh how I have taken that love for granted.
How much more so with my Creator.
But truth is, I cannot separate the love
of Mamma and Daddy
friends who bore my boorishness
kin who’ve overlooked me overlooking them
I cannot separate these
from the fingers of the great sculptor.
(See I Kings 8:25-30)
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 1:12 PM UTC
Mountain ranges evident on old coyote’s back
Legs that buckle and mange standing on end
Scrappy snarls and chattering clack
Band weary of its brother, how moons expend
Pushed from its den; old dog’s final indignity
Young competitors keep ahead the pack
What time will take; a brutal insistency
For a dying dog cards be stacked
Skinny whippy coyote your days complete
Senility your friend and nothing you lack
One last howls to death; a verse to meet
When no moon in sight and all goes black
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 5:55 AM UTC
At 10:20pm on a Tuesday night
The number 14 bus is full
Bright, glistening, and fevered
These tired commuters expend vast energies
on wishing they lived here—so they’d be home by now.
Transients—the unhoused—talk in believable lies
About Portland’s oldest bridges
And salmon runs in the Willamette
And every time the bell signals a stop requested
Those of us remaining heave another sigh of delay.
At SE Cesar Chavez, which was 39th when I was growing up,
More people get off than on—
A man in a brutal cavity t-shirt,
A 30-something in a grey hoodie –
Both transferring, probably, to the line 75.
I get off around 47th,
Pass the long-closed and over-priced vintage furniture shop,
Cross the street at the fading crosswalk,
Pass a bar, a home cooking joint with and early bird special of $2.95,
Another bar, and a lonely busker playing guitar and singing Weezer.
In my building, on my floor, the hallway always smells like chicken
I’ve yet to cook, to even finish unpacking
But all of this already feels familiar
My first night’s commute home
And I am as practiced and nonchalant as a New Yorker in the City…
At least as much as a Portlander can be in Portland.
I’ll have wine, or tea,
Put on my lounging clothes
And settle into an evening alone
As if I’ve been doing this forever
As if we never were.
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 2:42 PM UTC