"experimented" poems
there are 10 things you may need to know about me
if you'd like to get to know me better
if you care about me
1. i love thunderstorms
i love the way lightning looks against the sea at night
i enjoy the presence of crazy rain and
the arguments the clouds seem to have
i am a pluviophile
2. i hate small talk
i do not care for my feelings on this particular time of day which is why if you ask me how i am or "how i'm feeling" i will provide a bland answer
this is such a boring step for you to get to know me better
you probably don't even care how my summer went
tell me your fantasies, childhood fears,
tell me things you wouldn't tell your best friend
ask me questions about my former lover
i am curious to know
3. i am quiet a lot
i ponder about life and odd little ideas pop into my head randomly
like: i wonder if you can naturally change your eye colour or
why is it quiet only at night?
i think about people i haven't met or people in my past
those whom i care about and those whom i hate
4. people with sad eyes are attractive
i do not know why
the roundness and dull sparkle in their eyes arouse me
it creates me to gravitate around them
i do not pity them but i am somehow attracted to them
5. the internet is amazing
i have gained so many friends from here
different photos and art has inspired me
i lost fears through the internet
it's fascinating really
6. i have a fine appreciation for art
there are so many different forms of art and i love all of them
whether it's poetry or dance or drama
i have experimented and flirted with them all
they are unique and brilliant in their own way
7. i do not love myself
no matter how hard i bring myself to it
there are so many flaws and dents in my skin
that i cannot do it
i am shameful of myself
afraid of myself
and most of all
i am saddened by my own soul
8. i long for a soulmate
one to appreciate good food with
one to travel with
whether i am in love with this person or one whom i am
very fond of
i long for someone to be there for me at all times
9. i cry easily
i am sensitive and this is hard to admit
i am overemotional at times and the tears fall easily
most of the time it is because i can relate to the certain emotion
that is being depicted
10. i am filled with stories
i could go on and on about different rumors and secrets i have stored inside
i am in abundance with stories and good laughs
i have fascinating scary stories both fiction and non-fiction
many stories are mine and there are a lot that aren't
but both are entertaining and i enjoy telling stories
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 11:42 PM UTC
Here now by many paths convoluted,
Ever trying the thoughts new, acted on.
Heeding just,streams conscious flowing,
Changed and morphed in an instant blinking.
Hair long,then shaved, now streaked orange grey
Suits to jeans,tore them,robes spiritual,now **** pray!
Was straight,turned metro,for all open,but curious still,
Body clean,got pierced, now adorning pasts tattooed!
Gurus, philosophies many, still a fool ever journeying.
Heard Bach,reggaed to Marley,wood-stocked,now fused.
Loved intense,let go easy,Kama sutras experimented on.
Traveled afar,lived as a local,now a foreigner everywhere,
Hip-pied from smoke to grass,yoga to parties raved hard.
Against wars, sat in for peace elusive,fought all,now stoic,
Never shocked or surprised,took all as came,now strong.
The set mind,everchanging,the physical a compliment cosy,
Unrecognizable now,existing totally, being happy, normally?
Many shout, freak! I smile,walk on to my home in Bohemia!
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 12:52 AM UTC
When I was a kid all I wanted to do was smoke ****
But nowadays its harder stuff that my body really needs
In my teenage yeas smoking on a spliff
It would seem to be a substantial lift
Before long though my depression took hold
Alcohol and cigarettes making me look old
I fell into a bad crowd, moving drugs that were illicit
My life moving so fast I probably could have missed it
MDMA in my system and I felt so loved
Ecstasy wasn't enough to see God above
I experimented with psychedelics and I had a real ball
But my habits got deeper, and my friends, I lost them all
I turned to the streets to pay for my increasing routines
But my job on the street interferes with my dreams
So now I'm just a shadow of my former self
A syringe smiles at me from the bottom shelf
Sometimes I need a little bump just to get my mind right
But often times a bump can turn into a wild night
Sometimes I need to get level with some golden dope
But too much of that **** and my life can lose all hope
I often wonder if my life would be alright
If I was never molested on that dreary night
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 5:16 AM UTC
He lost his arm
By a cooked bomb
His world lit up like firecrackers
He was engulfed in fire and metal shards
Then his body went numb
So he was stitched up
And sent back home
There was a new brand of limbs
So he volunteered to be experimented on
For a prosthetic arm
As he went through new trials during the day
He suffered at night
He had night terrors about where he was evacuated from
Seeing himself holding a ticking time bomb
While bullets whisked past above
The bomb sunk into his hand like a solider in the slums
And as the time ticked one
His arm turned to glass and exploded
The shards from his arm imbedded themselves in his skin
This was his dreamed
He beg to be fixed
But even though they could give him a new arm
They couldn't fixed what he saw when he closed his eyes
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
Poked & prodded at
Everyday Everyday Everyday
I walk outside naked regularly
(The only one, too)
A shady pornstar they've
Made me out to be
Every corner of flesh, Every corner of flesh
It's indecent to be clothed.
Spread open my legs to
A gaggle of flashing camera bulbs.
Express critique
Save a pic
Jot down notes
'Move it, kid.'
Spread open my legs to
A pod of alien queens
Scalpel wrenches, protozoan logs
I'm the life of the party
As their oval heads crowd around
My *** things
Experimented-on weird-o's meander
The halls of this wherever-I-am
Free to leave at last
I sometimes go home after
A day of that
And do an odd thing:
I cocoon myself in blankets
And sleep for long stretches of time.
May 21, 2012
May 21, 2012 at 7:33 PM UTC
I was eight,
My cousin was eighteen.
He called his mother Mom
"When will I be old enough,"
I asked
"to call my mama Mom?"
Mom seemed a privilege
to be earned with age.
Eight year olds had to say
"mama" or "mommy"
I experimented with Mom
such a deliciously Western term.
I addressed birthday cards to Mom
and mother's day cards to Mom
She didn't seem to mind
so I started calling mama Mom
But the novelty wore off
and I got sick of Mom and of mom
And I wanted nothing to do with mom
so I wouldn't even call her Mom
She was Alia.
I called her by her first name
because I resented Mom and mom for loving me.
I called her Alia
She called me Daughter
a forceful reminder of the umbilical cord.
Then I went away to university,
over the Atlantic Ocean
a 14 hour plane ride away.
And I wouldn't call at all.
I wouldn't call to call her "mama" or "mommy" or Mom or even Alia.
But she would call
And she would call me Daughter
or "habibti" or "my sunshine."
And I didn't want to hear it.
I was eighteen
and I didn't need Mom.
I was gone eight months
and I didn't miss Mom
I didn't miss the Middle East
I didn't want to be home
I think She hated me for a while.
Then I was back in Toronto
University got hard
And I got tired
And I couldn't sleep
And friends proved false
And I got fat.
So I called Alia
And she stayed on skype with me, singing
Arabic Nursery Rhymes
until she saw I was asleep
And Mom watched me sleep.
But "mommy"
kept the laptop on all night
In case I woke up scared
and needed to call out for her
from across the Atlantic.
And "mama"
is at home
waiting for me
with a hug
And I just want to go back
and do it over
so I could take back every day
that I didn't call her
mommy.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 3:54 PM UTC
when everything everywhere
whispered in irresistible languages
*hey you there
stop resisting*
i began to surrender
was flowing free
stretching
wings flapping
toward the unknowable
inside
experimented with ditching
body as identification
name as identification
personal history as identification
faded off
mad word searching
explaining justifying
reiterating too much information
i loosened my squeeze grip
on intellectualism
tell-me-how-to-be spiritual books
whatever the famous someone
said once then got bronzed over
i surrendered to universal unity
where i lavishly decorated
my living changing dream
with my own snap choices
i was flowing with fresh
synergetic synthesis
returned outside to pedestrian streets
where angelics mixed in
wore transparent disguises
i began to flow
forgiveness out and in
skipped a light fandango
splashing puddles was
answer to inclement weather
i set wooden faces
to smiling after
i switched my own
i rolled on through
perceived stop signs
of the everlasting no
incinerated all my karma with
nownownow
wonwonwon
made myself
stock still
experienced
yes yes
relaxed awareness
breathed
emptiness
opened all my hands
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 2:16 PM UTC
*creating something in silence (save for keyboard clacks) is a practice in subliminal listening. Thought is like air and you can hear it whispering through the trees of your foresty dendrites.
Misery mixes with ecstasy and love mixes with confused dislike-- for 11 days straight, I've been losing myself in the phosphene glare of love for a girl named Sasha.
She insists she's not a Xanax ****** but by my standards I'm still not sure if I'm convinced altho this seems like an unfair snap-judgement that still hurts her feelings. Perhaps she needs it, and I'm just blanked as the next heretic to go on trial in the pharmacratic inquisition.
For the first time the other night I experimented (incorrectly) with DMT. Sprinkling it over a packed bowl of tea (marijuana), I drew back a breath and felt nothing more than life as a conceited dream with a strange alchemical hangover-fear of psychosis.*
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
He was kind to me
Got me a special box
Just for me to sleep in
Gave me sweets
I called him Uncle
He cut my mummy up and
Experimented on my baby brother
Growing inside her
But Uncle said she had to die
The other kids were sent away
To the gas chambers
But Uncle liked me
Because I was blonde and pretty
And he was going to teach me
How to be a doctor like him
I'd have my tools and I
Could put other people's brothers
In jars to keep
Like he did with mine
He said I would be the first one
To have twins planted in my belly
Would they sprout like trees
In my stomach?
We had tidy beds there
And it smelled nice
My mummy and daddy are dead
And I loved my uncle
But it smells funny in here
And everyone is coughing
I think I can hear his voice
Calling me
And I want to run
But there are walls surrounding me
And I can't escape
His crazy eyes are following me
Until I collapse on the floor
Dead
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 12:38 PM UTC
In times gone past we used to play
With abandon. We experimented.
We vowed we’d never settle down
Become complacent or contented
Everything seemed possible
Reality just one calibration
Of potential, possible worlds
Each one a sheer sensation
The world was a bright, clean canvas
For the ink of our imagination
Knowing we could make the world
We laboured at its creation
But along the way complacency crept in
And we lost our special flow
One by one the sparks in our hearts died
And why we’ll never know
But I’ll hazard a rough guess
And it’s worth heeding what here's stated
What’s worthwhile in life is lost
When what’s wild is domesticated
The times that came gave us the idea of war
We accepted it. We became rank and file citizens
Became wrapped up in the politics
The world became a spoiled canvas
Destroyed by cruel imaginations
Knowing they could break they world
They ripped the petals off its carnations
It nevertheless remains that we
Will one day throw off the yoke
To dwell once more in amity
And live in dreams bespoke
I'll hazard a rough guess
And it's worth heeding what here's stated
What's worthwhile in life comes back
When we realise that dreams are created
What comes next is chaos and rebellion
We go wantonly. We dedicate ourselves
To joyful revolution, against tyranny
To put life back in to good health
The world becomes unified again
And not in the imperial way
But in the way all souls are friends
And borders die and go away
The world becomes a canvas new
Ready to take a splash of art
Adorned with colour and beauty
A fresh and fruitful start
Along the way we will regain our voice
And sing and play like children
happy music will make them rejoice
And let them dwell in freedom
I'll hazard a rough guess
And say this time is near
Because more spirits are learning to say bless
And make their spiritual bars disappear
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 1:29 AM UTC
Every day passes
reminding me of things to be learned
I do not know about life as an adult sees it
I only know as a teenager and child
what life is meant to be
Today I learned of love
and the falsities it bears
I do not know its true meaning
or the reason I find it never true
I do not know how to tell a good friend from bad
we all talk behind each other’s backs
I see not me in the mirror
but a teenager who is too fat or utterly ugly
Today I learned of drugs
and of all the feelings they bring
I experimented just a little
and now I wish for more
If everybody goes through the torment of teen pain
and they hear the much defeating snickers and comments
why are adults so cruel as to say
these are the best years of our lives?
Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 4:53 PM UTC
To simplify,
To complicate,
These questions, on repeat,
In my questioning, confused head.
What do I want from this world,
Beyond simplification,
Yet a fraction of complication?
I’ll never know.
All I know, is that incarcerated birds,
still cheerfully chirp,
And nothing is ever what it seems,
Not even people.
I learned the hard way,
Achieving desires means,
Losing drive,
A sense of purpose,
And all fulfillment subsides.
Success is a state of mind,
Placement is what brings you peace,
So much to experience,
Yet so little focus.
At a certain point,
When getting old,
This contemplation follows,
And leaves me with nothing to show,
For all that I’ve experimented with—
Because staying put is too hard to bear.
Nov 18, 2023
Nov 18, 2023 at 11:49 PM UTC
I wonder
Is it possible to be
An Accidental Anorexic?
I eat one meal a day, typically speaking
Not for lack of hunger
Or food
Sometimes I eat myself into nausea
Without meaning to,
Devouring like a black hole
Then regretting it.
The hunger is not sated, but nausea rises
Am I breaking
What if I
What if
No.
Today I had dinner.
Yesterday I had lunch.
I don't hunger until 10 in the morning and
By then it's much too late most days
I wait for lunch
Starving
But it's like they don't try to make it food.
A deliberate insult to the gnawing pain,
Mocking my inability to stomach it
I can hear my mother
"You're not really hungry if you won't eat it"
But I am
I'm so tiny.
I've experimented
Eating nothing
Eating so much
The little needle doesn't care. It's the same.
Every.
Time.
I want to be able to change a part of me
Which is apparently a sign
That you're suicidal
That desire for control over some aspect of your life.
I won't cut my hair
So is it food?
Is that my control?
Am I
Accidentally Suicidal
Too?
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC
A ceremony in disguise,
Protective animus inside.
Twist gold on fingers crucified,
Next in a line for sacrifice.
Please don't panic,
Its under control.
The spirit forcing its way out,
Selective hearing, angry mouth.
We hear it whispering the doubts.
Drowning love in times of drought.
Please don't panic,
Its under control.
Experimented on in dreams.
Through walls and sleep they carried me.
Offer the fish but no one chases.
Somebody's been here,
Someone faceless.
Please don't panic
Its under control.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
Always being watched even as you're taking a shower
Afraid to turn your lights off at night
because you don't want to know what lurks in the dark
Having encounters with ghosts
who manipulate you into thinking they are alive human beings
Always being attacked by dark forces
because of mistakes your ancestors made in the past
Someone is always bleeding
Someone is always being haunted
Being locked up in an institution
to be experimented on like a guinea pig
Mysteries, curses, deformities
Using spells to keep your loved ones safe
Staying aware of crazy clowns
who get pleasure out of stabbing people for no reason at all
Men with no eyes coming out of mattresses
Suicides
Self mutilation
Mental disorders
***
Romance
****
Psychological thriller
Fantasies
Realities
You start to question your mentality state
when you fall in love with a serial killer
and wish for an innocent victim to die
Facts
Imagination
Your beliefs will be tested
Your religion will be tested
Your loyalty will be tested
Your view of yourself and others who are different from you
will change
Your dreams will be bothered by the fact that pain brings you pleasure
and vice versa
Nightmares
Gore
Survival
Anger
Sadness
Death
Just when you think you have seen it all
it surprises you
Every year the story gets better
Every year is more intense
More creepy
More ****** up
Every year you are mind ****** as you sit on the edge of your seat
I know
I sound really insane however
I will not say I am sorry
It is just another year
in American Horror Story
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 9:32 AM UTC
I wish all this
Twisted ****
Was just something
From my wits
A way to catch the
Attention of twits
That I was
Writing every poem
In a warm
Fuzzy home
With a life
That wasn't so
Dreadfully alone
The stories are true
The characters are
Tragically real
But stop acting
Like you can relate
Like you know
How I feel
I've seen some ****
I've been some places
I've stolen bags and
Cut up faces
I've tripped
For days
Came home wasted
No wonder
My head isn't
Feeling so well
No wonder
Everyday is a
Living hell
No wonder
I have all these ****** up
Stories to tell
It's the environment
That I so easily
Put myself in
It's my associates
That turned my
Pure soul to sin
So I take the blame
I take the fall
But if I never
Experimented
With my life's call
Then I'd have nothing
To tell you at all
Oct 16, 2010
Oct 16, 2010 at 1:47 PM UTC
I have slept in a forest
I have kissed in the rain
Set fire to plastic
With nothing to gain
I have stared at the stars
From a trampoline
In the dead of the night
On a ***** blurred Halloween
I have lain on the roof
At the break of dawn
With a then best friend
Now a memory long gone
I have experimented
More than I’d like to admit
Known the taste of his tongue
Or the touch of her lips
I have woken up in places
Seen never before
Had a sea of regrets
Regretted no more
In less than four years I have
Lived a life fuller than most
And looked down on by many
They turn up their noses
A life ruled by
Sheer impulse mistaken
For utter stupidity
But I’m scared
I am petrified
These days won’t last
To be eighteen forever
Is all I ask
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC
i know it pacifies,
national socialism was experimented
in germany,
but national capitalism took over,
you have a McDonald and a KFC
in Slovakia and other places...
it's not killing people,
but it's definitely numbing them...
they have no chance of a cultural
uniqueness, this national capitalism
has america in BIG PRINT seen
everywhere, and china in small
print worn everywhere: MADE IN;
which basically means everywhere
starts becoming a lookalike alike alike alike
******** hence the emergence of
internet shopping, everyone becoming
like the rich kids: pool, snooker hall
and all other social functioning distractions
enabling congregation under one roof,
with richy rich over here, having to pay
for a ******* too gluttonous to do it himself;
hey, it's just a muscle kid...
the clergy have a monopoly on the *****
esp. if it's all girlie girl girls.
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 2:05 PM UTC
You had a black cat and a tiger cub
Equal in size, equal in ferocity.
All silk fur and knife teeth- you said they were just playing
But they bit and scratched only me.
Scars incurred were real.
You experimented, scientifically, with my childhood belongings
In the back of our broken down truck.
You didn't know they were mine.
We played chess, us and another
Someone unimportant enough to forget, I suppose
Since I already have.
There was a scandalous edge to it.
Something dark, dangerous. Exciting.
You made me a promise when you took my queen.
I couldn't quite understand what it was.
Later you played basketball, alone in the dark
You car headlights providing the only stars.
I followed you
Found you playing horse, a sad game alone.
There was electricity in the air
Waiting to shock someone.
Waiting to shock us.
You were about to say something magnificent....
If only I could return.
If only I could hear you say it.
If only I could escape the felines for good.
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 8:05 AM UTC
******* the thumb of hopelessness I grew up
Watching life die in despair I threw up
I walked away to find a new way
Where one gets his own say
Like a mad scientist I experimented with my soul
My fatuousness which only created in me a deep black hole
My life was always black and white
Faded from the colors of happiness's sight
Death and gloom on the doorstep
Thats what I always felt when sometimes I used to take a breath
The fragments of my soul falling like falling hair
Thats what was only realised by me there
Feeling of sadness and tormentation was only left to share
The brunt of which my inner self could never bear
My blood seemed like hot lava in the heart
Pumping blood and materializing hatred was what was done by my heart
I was taught torture and pain
Never to use my own brain
So I did what I had always dreamt of
I did what what my soul died every second for
I killed myself, but that's why I on the first place lived for
The ecstacy that laid in there
I gave my soul to share.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 2:49 PM UTC
When you left my house
I almost offered you a receipt
Because you left me like
Tourists leave a hotel room
I look back now and
Know why I lost so much weight
I was trying to make more room for you
So that you could fill me with your love,
I thought
Really, I just made it that much easier
For you to rip my heart out
Without even rolling up your sleeves
It was that easy
“Going to stay with a friend”
Felt like you stole the kingdom’s
Jewels and left.
That’s why I stay up so late
I’ve realized that it’s always when I let you in
That you let yourself out the door
So I fall “in love” with
Grindr profiles that remind me of
Pieces of us that I’m still picking up
Sorting out which pieces go to which
Of our puzzles
I just wish I could tell myself
Apart from you
I’ve inhaled so much of you
Like the smoke that burnt
Every time we touched
It had to be that way
Because I was playing with fire
And I didn’t realize that
We may as well have been
Slow dancing in a burning room
I write letters to you that I’ll never mail
In secret languages, I tell you how stupid we both are
Knowing **** well that what I’m really saying is
That parts of me are still confused
Confused as to whether or not you actually
Ever loved me or if
I was more like the lab specimens
We hung out with
I want to be the fire that burns
Against the skin of lovers who speak in secret tongues
Not in notes I tear up in the dark
But in gasps and croaks
Instead of croaking
Like another dissection frog
You experimented with:
**Even though you earned an A for your work,
I failed you because you never appreciated the class**
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 5:25 AM UTC
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Fashionable Death Cults Then and Now
After the June 1941 German invasion of the Soviet Union and Einsatzgruppe mass shootings of civilians, the Nazis experimented with gas vans for mass killing…
-Gassing Operations | Holocaust Encyclopedia (ushmm.org)
Dozens of migrants were found dead in an abandoned big rig in San Antonio on Monday in what appears to be the deadliest human smuggling case in modern U.S. history.
-At least 50 migrants found dead inside a truck in San Antonio, officials say (cnbc.com)
We have our death vans too, not well-organized
But rolling down the American road
Unseen by our leaders in their personal jets
Flying to Frisco or maybe Cancun
Bombings and shootings on the street and in church
Job lots in hospitals, by the dozens in schools
For we too specialize in genocide
And may Moloch and Herod bless our AR-15s
If any children survive, we’ll call them Generation Something
And tell them each day how inadequate they are
Jun 28, 2022
Jun 28, 2022 at 11:05 PM UTC
Never again
Will my body
Be caressed
Or cared for
Nor shall it
Be seen again
My body will rot
And die
Thinking
Of the lover
Who took me
Fiercely
And often
Who i shared
Passion with
Who i experimented with
Who i let teach me
And who i moaned for
Whose name i whimpered for
The lover who is one of a kind
Who i let try things that hurt
And things that felt amazing
No matter how nervous
The lover who
I said those three words to
That lover
Who i will never
Get to make love to again
That lover who no longer exists.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 12:41 PM UTC
There once was a story
about the sun and the moon
They loved each other more than the Earth itself-literally
However, as hard as they tried, they couldn't be together
At first, they tried to find loopholes
They experimented with eclipses, dusk, dawn, and even more things
One day the sun and the moon had to accept the fact
They could never be with each other
That is why once a month we do not see the moon
During that brief period, the moon cries
for the love he knew he could never have.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 9:12 PM UTC