"familiarities" poems
I do desire that we may be better strangers.
Your ill-bred humor disgusts me.
You take too many familiarities with my person.
No I am not your lady.
Nor am i, and never will be your 'darling.'
You are the wrong shape
The wrong size
The wrong class
The wrong gender.
I prefer the company of my own kind.
Leave me be.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 3:18 PM UTC
Like the faint speckles of light
piercing through fabrics of black silk
upon the fore of flickering flames
from an ensemble of a thousand tealights
The obscure vast extends beyond our perspective
opening our minds, birthing visual imagery
brought upon by this vivid intimacy
between the light and of the dark
Like ornate embroidery, leisurely sewn
as clouds transform while traversing the temporal expanse
revealing our past through portraits
of familiarities once anew
The romantic serenity politely interrupted
by wisps of wind that softly whisper
feeling their breath; as a caress of silk
delicately brushing against our skin
As the warmth of earth upon which our bodies rest
holds us closely as our souls explore
the everlasting and exclusive wonders
under the night sky
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 3:30 AM UTC
I think I've been a little lost lately.
Maybe more than a little.
This dull ache takes shape of your voice.
It lulls and tugs repeating familiar soothings
Past words of comfort now are readily sharpened
As I close my eyes and attempt to drift
Yet, I am tethered to the waking hours
How I weep for neutral slumber
Denial burns a fire deep into the hours
As I evade past recollections of your touch
Floating in bitter melancholy
This eternal blending of the not easily forgotten
Slowly I begin to peel off the layers
My protective armor, now as brittle as parchment
Easily sloughed off leaving the inevitable truth
vulnerability seeps to the bone
Then words that acted as knives
Become my salve as I (defeated) apply
Wrapping myself in the old familiarities
Gently cursing you (me) for feeling so raw.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 11:33 AM UTC
With querulous turpitude, I stood
Disdainful denied reassurance;
Selfless. My crying heart
The echo of the wind rebuking
All that is remaining of
what I used to be.
Grotesque deformities my reflection
The pain of pure love etched
In dreams of aeons passed.
Hideous beauty a frightening peace
A sweetness I founded corrupt;
Hell my heaven
My paradise.
Honesty a musical once
writhing in my breast
A seraph convoking legions,
Now wings out-stretched
I break my own treacherous heart
A fiend of Heaven a demon of Hell
The first fallen
Unto likeness absolved
The pennated breadth of twilight
Breeding familiarities contempt-
I have wearied myself, O God,
And I am consumed,
Resolute of inequity.
He that is down need not fear plucking,
Experience is the teacher of fools
And a gentle lie turneth away inquiry:
If the mountain will not go to Mahomet,
Mahomet must go to the mountain;
The nakedly wan mantic
Velleity to tear Christ's body
Malapert, before the ruddy shoal;
Society covers a multitude of sins
Within the penitent sanctity of
Heaven's holocaust, in which
No man can serve two masters-
Oh that I had wings like a dove!
I would fly away and be at rest
Eternal and absolute,
An angelic image of my shadowed self!.
ELEETE J MUIR
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 8:35 AM UTC
Print screen my whole being,
in the cadence of seasons changed.
Generation X's sweet heartbreak.
Strangers share the pain.
We walk the walk online,
nowadays,
in these times that are a changed.
Changing no more - subtly maybe.
The footfall of history stored,
in Google baby,
& terrabytes & ram.
A virus called.
And the rhyming stalled,
until;
Man made museums in nothing, but,
soldiered components,
smaller than the eye can see.
Nano moments,
lost in scrolled screens,
likes and comments,
compassion shared
around,
the world,
until forgotten;
fads
fade
away,
into familiarities.
Then we logged out of life,
and left reality behind smokescreens,
of PCs
HD ready, on blue days -
Blue Rays,
now smaller.
microsized.
Our brain waves microwaved.
Attention spans,
in the palm of our mouse shaped hands.
Say goodbye to the old days,
guilty as charged,
in
the strife of low battery life;
running out of charge.
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 8:06 AM UTC
in the passenger seat of your
tightly packed subaru
i felt as good as royalty
you as king, me as queen,
always wondering what lay in store
for me and you.
little did i know it would
come stammering to a halt
not that it should've
but i always found it strange
how you added salt
to your macaroni and cheese
not that it phased me,
no, i loved you all the same
your salt and all.
because i was taken advantage of
and you were salty as ever
and i was high off the ground
in a lifeguard chair as i told you the news
and i heard clattering on the other end of the line
you were done, you were no longer mine
and suddenly it was as if
the ocean had its own gravitational pull
begging me to come in, come and drown
i would go fleetingly, with nary a sound
but i grabbed familiarities instead
took the knife to my skin again
and it bled and it bled and it bled
i never wanted it to stop
i was surrounded by
people who knew what unconditional meant
and they wrapped me up, kissed my
wounds with their closing fingers
too many times
i should have died.
there is no requiem for a dream
there was no requiem for me
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 12:59 PM UTC
Two weeks in the sweltering heat of El Salvador
Sweating out the familiarities of home
A windswept airport parking lot
Speckled with miniature palm trees.
Open your eyes,
Dust off your ears,
And let those worries evaporate
Into the atmosphere.
Embarking down a little dirt path,
Where years of civil war
Unleashed their wrath.
Subtly, a foundation shifts
From the Miquon woods
Towards a smaller rural community
In the altitudes.
A laid-back game of soccer
In the oppressive 115-degree weather.
Against the firmness of dried brown dirt
Frantic feet are light like feathers
A history is present here
A common ground
We both hold dear
It’s clear,
The passion is sincere
Above all
A Spalding ball
Replacing Plymouth Meeting Mall
I, them, we, thaw
Once feeling cold
Now living raw.
A flash of colors
Mirrors a Macaw
The blend of people
A game will draw
With warm legs kicking
One draws upon
More natural law
A hand exchanged
For faster paw
Metamorphosis leaves
Humans in awe.
Who’s watching us?
The Eye of Ra
I feel awake
I think I’ve heard the bugle call.
Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 1:53 AM UTC
1220
Of Nature I shall have enough
When I have entered these
Entitled to a Bumble bee’s
Familiarities.
1.2k
He used to hide things for me
In the microwave
Or under a pile of serviette
In a metal room
Where I hid to eat
I ran away from all the heat
To talk about familiarities
He used to give things to me
On long working days
Chocolate ice cream,
Mixed with kindness
Served with dreams
Talks past midnights
Evening shifts
And when you were gone
My Mom told me,
That some things fade
And life moves on
Feelings shift
New plans will form
And loosing someone will keep you silent
But the things you gave me will always be kept.
~G
Sep 3, 2023
Sep 3, 2023 at 2:58 AM UTC
What is beauty?
The order in Chaos as some old philosophers once thought? A shy definition. Order doesn't draw a thunderstorm in my chest like beauty can.
We are afraid of Infinity.
Afraid of what infinity means for us,
That we don't really know everything or could ever even hope to know everything. A realization that what we thought we knew is so unrelentingly more complex and storied than our brains can handle.
In fact, we don't know anything. Nothing is familiar to us except the wholly misguided notion that such a banal concept can be used to describe what we often hold most dear. Few can stand to admit that our familiarities are but grains of sand slipping through our fingers while we look out over the ocean of time.
Hold tighter and they fall faster, cup them in your hand and the wind blows them out. Only when they have all fallen do you notice how strange your hand looks in the blaze of a midday sun.
Afraid of what we mean to Infinity,
That is to say, nothing at all.
Of the nothing that we are becoming all of the time.
We cannot stop, and cannot progress.
That we are tucked into our lives and wake up not knowing whether we've just started or whether we've been here ten thousand times before or whether we are even awake.
Some are comforted by the thought that life is just one big circle, that there are high points and low points but then high points again. But no one really knows what happens when we come all the way around.
And most people are afraid that when we get back to the top, we will fall right through the loop into nothingness. We will become the last grain of sand that slips through our grasp.
We look down the foggy beach and see no end in sight, we look out over the ocean of time and see only horizon.
So Beauty then?
I am not a grain of sand, though someday I will be.
But right now I am here with you, sitting on our favorite beach in Pleasant weather.
The sun overhead, the sand between our toes, the smell of the ocean.
Scanning the horizon in hopes of seeing a whale or a dolphin or something remarkable,
But content to be here now all the same.
Our reconciliation with infinity.
Sep 17, 2010
Sep 17, 2010 at 10:36 AM UTC
where goest thou deep
in concrete streets
of a wicked jungle
the rumble of
unsettling events; intense
concentrating
on escaping
these decrepit patterns
of useless existence
resistance to causualties
turning into familiarities
rear back to attack
fatal norms and society
pressing beliefs into skin violently
picking through dirt like worms
makes you squirm
and crunch the skin on your face
disgrace
to humanity
with their one ounce of sanity
equally dispersed among the public
disruptive you say?
that I've ruined the peace of this virtuous day?
do you sleep at night ?
with the right kind of dreams?
he beams at a perfect system
that thrives in secret tyranny
the irony!
enough to make you sick
and **** on the shiny shoes of the opresser
the ladder to heaven has collapsed and burned
so LEARN how to deal with death life and birth
ON EARTH!
this wont pay off after
no factor of mortality
plays into "divine reward"
like a ***** you're bored of misery and law
so thaw the boundries of
adventure and ambition
petition for ignition
to the revolutionary fire
the dire need for more wood to burn
take turns
melting away
Oct 10, 2010
Oct 10, 2010 at 10:37 AM UTC
I hang on to life dreaming,
Waiting for it to let me free,
Holding my breath in darkness.
Lost in my unconsciousness,
Impressions from the truth,
I wallow at the invisible.
Philosophies are dumbfounded.
Ideals vanished with perverse storms
Of spontaneity and malice.
Emotions become exhilarating.
Familiarities random,
With eternities of parallel expectations.
I still see you,
Skewed by memories of love and passion,
Standing there, looking back at me.
Mar 18, 2010
Mar 18, 2010 at 5:13 PM UTC
Dear Anne,
I am crying now. Not because of sadness, not because of anger or frustration... But because I am overwhelmed. Not a bad kind of overwhelmed, but one that is full of awe and joy.
I am overwhelmed that after all the pain both of us have gone through, after all the hurting, anger, and fears... I wake up one morning and find myself in love with you all over again. But not the same kind of love I felt when I first had you, or during our most wonderful times together - believe it or not, it was so much more. It's the kind of love that transcends through distance, through time... My heart never settles. You know that. It is never still, it always wants and you know that the way it wants something, it does its best to get it right away. But now, it is different. It has learned to be still. It has learned to endure waiting, to endure uncertainties; to endure the fear that it does not know how you feel - or if you will be willing to accept it back or not. But amidst this indefiniteness, it fights... With a smile. It fights the good fight. It wakes up every morning beating hard and loud with purpose: that is to make you happy again. To show you how much you mean to this heart... that every heart beat, every drop of blood flowing through its veins are all with beautiful intent.
This heart is beating, this heart is in joy. It skips a beat when it senses you, it speeds up when it remembers you.
The only prayer I have now is that you will listen to its every beat. :) That you will hear what it has been trying to shout, what it has been fighting for. :)
You are loved, Anne. Remember that somewhere, someone wakes up every day inspired, motivated - to be a better person for herself. With high hopes that when you get to meet her again, all the familiarities will rush and you remember this stranger who loved you with all her joyful heart.
Yours and yours alone,
Mims
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 2:40 PM UTC
It is a strange feeling, wanting to die but not being selfish enough to **** yourself. It is not a good feeling and it is not a bad feeling. Just strange. Like wanting to step out of a moving vehicle but the door is locked, and you're the one who locked it.
It's liberating, in a sense. To sever those stringy limbs that are clutching on to life and all its irrelevant attachments. Unbinded by society. The friendly release of death, all the familiarities of living still in tact. Immortality stolen directly from the suicide note. Shot through the heart, but still very much full of life.
Some pathetic hermaphrodite of irony and despair.
I think it stems from this futile awareness of a futile existence. I could live with a futile existence, but by some divine cosmic punishment am forced to be aware of my place within society. My place being an insignificant cell in a cell. And no body cares about a single cell within it. If one cell dies, it won't even notice it's gone, but simply continue as it was. But I refuse to give it the power to ignore my death. To stay alive is rebellion. To love and to live, in spite of life, is pure anarchy.
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 5:59 PM UTC
A Nightmare
In my dreams I am the melting man.
Through tinted glass I am without senses.
With eyes that feel the sting of sight and fever of hearing,
I am allowed into the killing ground.
I followed my friendliest faces through some foggy
thick soup that does tickle my eyes
and vex them to lower.
Up again to this lonely temple
Where so many familiarities touch the ground and
my vessel with fatal hands.
First kiss and polystyrene men;
synthetic and terrifying.
Where have I seen you before?-
December 11th
Close your eyes.-
Here we are again.
there are sweats all over
i have been here so many times before and i sweat and cry
the killing grounds
dear mother, take me home, i sweat and cry for i have come here again
take me away? where have you gone?
the killing grounds
the pile of death
hopeless death that is violent and
my poor fragile eyes sweat and cry and
drip away
see those empty faces
of first kiss and polystyrene man
i reach for mothers hand
but i must linger in the mess of filth
December 11
please let me leave
i am losing
skin falls in drips
like cream or paint
and i must join the filth
no crying may save me.
Nov 8, 2011
Nov 8, 2011 at 9:10 PM UTC
Slowly
Revolutions
Loss of the momentary flickering
an inescapable fleeting of infeasibility
spun.
These beautiful colors
Become one beautiful web
Smashing into those hurt eyes
With every pulse, movement
Slow grey spin-spun twist-turn
familiarities modify
With every revolution.
Distortion in the most striking.
potential is no contest
confusion is adjustable when
the view falls
and sees all of those wonders
from the bottom up.
Haphazard,
Those blurs whisper that
The wind tells no lie
When it convinces a soul
To forgot what it feels like
To stand solid
Spun.
Oct 11, 2011
Oct 11, 2011 at 3:05 AM UTC
The familiarities that were once comforting
Have now become tear stained nightmares.
The anticipation of a new master piece-
One that brought the promise of change
And through magic became strokes
Of color-changing beauty, has now
Become dread and guilt.
The mirror cannot reflect the memories
Etched into crystalized eyes.
It cannot show the inner bruising,
From self-mutilation. It cannot show
The web work of past words that
Constrict the heart, barely holding
Together what was already broken.
The instability in a voice is ignored,
While time still continues all around.
One single moment can be sent into
Devastation while the earth doesn’t
Blink so much as an acknowledgment.
The smell of a crimson blade, should
Not be easily understood. The accusations
Should never have been, should never
Have become reality. If love is present,
Then these familiarities should be absent.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 2:02 AM UTC
I wish you were mine
Captured in time
Fast asleep forevermore
Gathering stars
From worlds afar
Teaching us well
What love is for...
Two dreamers dreaming
When worlds collides
Yet which one will stray
To the otherside...
Where sunlight
Shines strange
Familiarities change
Turning to paradise
Before our very eyes...
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 9:12 AM UTC
Here I stand,
naked as the moon.
Denude of childish tendencies to protect the ego's fragile skin.
Palms turned towards the continuum of space to expose the souls purity,
eradicate insecurities.
The sky steeps me in a soothing womb of chamomile and honey,
abloom of sweet, scattered opalescence as freckles upon her face
interlaced with familiarities.
Extending conceptualized singularity to experience eons of unified grace.
Anahata awaken, caress of winds breath
frolics across the topography of my being,
releasing the god-essence.
Activated through remembrance
that which is, was, and always will be.
Instilled in every cell, attune harmony.
Conduit, co-existing as student, teacher, observer, conductor,
cleanse.
Wash away layers of the veil to reveal.
Acknowledge, accept, expand, contract.
Embodiment of cyclic sacredness.
Wholeness.
She and I mirrored images,
reflected consciousness,
alchemical catalyst catapaulting immense distances inside an instant.
Elder, mother, kin, within.
Ammorea flame ablaze, raise sensory vibrations to these
potent mysteries.
Project positivity,
what is given is received, this is my prayer.
My offering.
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC
When the shores
Are
More
Than one can bear
Each second
Each wink
Each bat of an eye lash
Is as short
A breath
As we realize as
Our last
The bed doesn't creak
Nor does the
Wind feel any different
A shattering
Glass would barely
Stir the covers
Of my body underneath
Of course around
Our mother's
Her ears attentive
To the children's cares
Upstairs
They obsessed with
Their own
Eyes open
Finger's crossed
The ball when tossed
Will surely be lost
And yonder' - across menacing momentum -
One can witness the
Crystal filled fountain and in
The distance the burning
Of a single candle flame on the mountain
I look for answers
I seek questions
I hear the secrets of the world
And feel them through
My finger tips as I share them
With you
Am I aware of my world?
Or am I only living alone within it?
Am I a seeker of life or
Am I merely the string attached
To a stranger's spool and kite?
Holding myself over
Until the next tide is taken
For the forsaken admit
No defeat
To do that
Would leave the ego beaten
Struck with an impenetrable sickness
Familiarities
Only a stone's throw away from
Falsely thought of companions
Whose stanza's felt as weak
Believe their streak
Is coming to an untimely end
Their bitterness
Is not sweet
For it makes the eye's water
With its acidity
Friends take steps in all directions
They are not routine like the seasons
To be a friend, one must learn
To not be stern and when ready
To let them drift into a new curve
The white picket fence
Has dirtied with the summer rain
Stains remind me of former lives
Whose prizes were never gave
Caves without a rhythm or life
Where every nook within
Has never had the chance to bear a light
Every darkness
Once did harness
The light of
A truthful day
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 3:12 PM UTC
Memories of time past are
sauntering into view like sweet
fragrant breezes, bursting gently
against my cheek.
It is that old familiar feeling.
Drowsily my eyes close to drift
rapturouly into the extemporaneous
visits.
Gold crusted streets lined in cherry
blossoms filled with familiarities tickle
my whimsy as shiny pebbles wink at me
as if to say, welcome back.
Splinters of once hopeful desires are
forming to provide driftwood enabling
me to float like whispers of an awakening
sunrise, warmly rising upwards out of the cold.
I'm enjoying a sweet escape from a
heart burdened by ineffable lonliness.
I'm coasting on a barren plain of sweet
amnesia like the young girl at seventeen.
http://youtu.be/f52dVN-5cWU?list=RDf52dVN-5cWU
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 7:33 PM UTC
A year ago today My world came crashing down
A year ago today all familiarities and comforts were stipped from me
In a downward cycle of pain and loss
A year ago today, you left me.
As I lay at the bottom looking in a desperate state for a way i could swim to the top before I ran out of breath
I evaluated and re-evaluated everything in my life,everything in your life
where we went wrong and how things got to the point of emptiness and misery.
I poured countless days, endless heartbreaks, and streams of tears into trying to save you.
All I ever wanted was to see you smile and mean it, All I ever wanted was to take your pain away.
But I couldn't and so a year ago today it ended.
You put your head down and pushed through life,waiting for your chance you rise above it all,
Well I pray that you are soaring now, higher than ever before, and will never fall.
The wind beneath your wings will never lay still and I will love you until
My time to join you comes.
Its been a year and I have
shed a lot of tears
overcome a lot of fears
made some new friends
tied up some loose ends
loved and lost
felt used and been tossed
laughed and smiled
been silly, just like a child
felt hurt and afraid
felt cheated and played
grew closer to some that were apart
lost some i thought would never leave my heart
ive grown up and moved on
and danced the same dance, sung the same song
In the last year I have stood on the line seperating the end and the beginning,
the shadow between the darkness and light
Ive felt the weight of the decision to give up, or move forward in life
I have stood on the edge of the cliff peering down
and I turned around.
I started over and picked up pieces of the life that I knew
and rebuilt a new life, a life without you
And at the end of the day, all I can say,
is that I would give anything just to see you again.
Jul 8, 2011
Jul 8, 2011 at 10:23 AM UTC
And this place
The same, every face is
But incapable of recognizing
The familiarities of your own
Life.
Where your king
Is your enemy
As well your protector
And god is satan
As well being at fault for every wrong thing
In your realm
But wait
You're not religious
And you're the higher being
In your
Life.
So
Feel secure with
Insecurities
And feel assured
The bridge is strong
The only way to
Fall through
Is to jump
And I know
You're tired of
Standing
Still.
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 10:52 AM UTC
I still haven't found land. I steer my crew in circles, drunken and adventurous, hoping they never see how hopeless I am. I cannot handle this power without something powering me; I cannot see straight and somehow that's less blinding than my own doubts. Than my insecurities, and pain I deal with. I'm afraid their trust will decimate, that this ship will sink. Far down, far away. I dream of the clouds being an island to me. A home. Familiarities I rarely feel in these murky, vast waters. I've let my thoughts wander.. farther than I should have. Do you blame me? I always knew my life held a bitter end. A small fight before the ocean enthralls me once more, capturing me, and I sink. Lower than I ever have. Losing my life to the very thing that kept me from living-
Oct 25, 2019
Oct 25, 2019 at 1:35 PM UTC