"familiarize" poems
sages and brethren
gather, and share
and slowly souls
are bared
their tempered voices
and quiet eyes
reserved of judgment
with passing smiles
moments blend
in current trends
opinions wide
and reflections deep
the concepts
and irregularities
once murky
now clear
they prioritize
and familiarize
that staunch resolution
of generation net
will remunerate
and illuminate
through the checkpoints
and formal reviews
through the purple curtains
and open stage
nothing tainted
or bitter
left for taste
cause its they
who’ll plant the seeds
the captains of commerce
healers and jugglers
the coaches and councilors
negotiators and compromisers
the kings and queens
hustlers and hellcats
(who've all found their way!)
let us tip our hats
and salute them*
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 2:05 PM UTC
Dogs take new friends abruptly and by smell,
Cats' meetings are neat, tactual, caressive.
Monkeys exchange their fleas before they speak.
Snakes, no doubt, coil by coil reach mutual knowledge.
We then, at first encounter, should be silent;
Not court the cortex but the epidermis;
Not work from inside out but outside in;
Discover each other's flesh, its scent and texture;
Familiarize the sinews and the nerve-ends,
The hands, the hair - before the inept lips open.
Instead of which we are resonant, explicit.
Our words like windows intercept our meaning.
Our four eyes fence and flinch and awkwardly
Wince into shadow, slide oblique to ambush.
Hands stir, retract. The pulse is insulated.
Blood is turned inwards, lonely; skin unhappy ...
While always under all, but interrupted,
Antennae stretch ... waver ... and almost ... touch.
7.1k
So familiarize what having to swallow this pill is like
It happens all the time, they take your heart and steal your life
And it's as though you feel you've died because you've been killed inside
But yet you're still alive which means you will survive
Although today you may weep because you're weak and
Everything seems so bleek and hopeless
The life that you're seeking, it begins to seep in
That's the only thing keeping you from leaping off the motherfreaking deep end
And I'm pulling for you to push through this feeling
And with a little time that should do the healing
And by tomorrow you may even feel so good that you're willing
To forgive them even after all that **** you been put through.
This feeling of resilience is building.
And the flames are burning quick as fire would.
Through this building. you're sealed in
But you're fireproof, flame retardant, you withstood it.
And as you climb up to the roof, you're just chillin' and you look down
'Cause you're so over them you could put the heel of your foot through the ceiling.
As time passes, things change everyday
But wounds, wounds heal
But scars still remain the same
But tomorrow today's goin' down in flames
Throw the match, set the past ablaze
So feel the fire beneath your feet
As you barely even perspire from the heat
Exhale deep and breathe a sigh of relief
And as you say goodbye to the grief
It's like watching the walls melt in your prison cell
But you've extinguished this living hell
Still a little piece of you dies, you scream..
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 9:35 AM UTC
close girl, you gang leader, take the lead
the question put fake strength to you
and your city pants
to death and times unseen
and documents of forceful
******* violent steel
but picking vegetables
she lets the cat destroy the hamster
cousin, sister, grandmother haunt
vascillate your color, unhuman hue
find the home of dying friends
and family forgotten
only a spell of eyes can see you close again.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 1:56 PM UTC
What's the point of touching you, of being this close to you if there's someone else's name woven in your soul,etched on your skin?
I could spend eternities tracing figures on your body,
Familiarize myself with every kink,every curve, every uncharted territory,
With the steady hum of your heart against my palm,
With the way you cage me in your arms but all these would be nothing but futile
For I'll never find shelter inside your skin—somebody else's home I'm trying to fill in.
I could spend all night,memorizing you by heart like the back of my hand
But yours would still feel limp in my grasp,longing for another's touch to lead you back where you'll truly feel alive.
I could break you down line by line as if you're my favorite rhyme
Yet you'll never fit in right in these writings of mine—you belong in someone else's art.
There is nothing comforting in these nights we share,when you'll always be on the look out for another in the crowd as I search your face,trying to find any trace of affection granted as mine.
The rain can't wash you out of my system if you always pull me back down, hold me close under these sheets of ice,keeping me from the downpour outside.
To tell you the truth,I'd rather be there than be searching for warmth in the coldness of your presence.
I'd rather run towards the uncertainty of the night than stay with you under these blinding lights,where with every word I speak,I come closer to my inevitable demise.
Leaving offers more sanctuary for here there is nothing—absolutely nothing for me.
-W.
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 10:55 AM UTC
I thought, "holy **** man, look at yourself". The only change I ever witnessed for 3 years was the scrapings left ringing out on the bar rail. Always reaching out to a pocket for god and finding nothing. "I guess you can't refund the drinks, right?" She didn't laugh. I watched my circle get smaller, tired of the antics and my drinking became the **** of a joke. I watched my circle get smaller, my vision blurred like the future lining with a black viginette and with every drink I watched the bartender familiarize. Another? tap tap an empty bottle uses its manners and mine, with a painted smile. Until close she would become my therapist, and the salary was almost the same for the two after I left. After close the cooks offered sympathetic invites and lackluster conversations at the strip club next door. They laughed and drank and like ***** hawks watched their prey scale a poll like the fire they were fighting was inside. I saw no spark, no love given, no love received. I found it hard to love, when hating myself was the only thing I loved to feel. The grease stained fries were tickling the back of my throat on the last night I went. I found myself puking next to a coke head doing key bumps and I asked through hiccups "does the smell back here not bother you?" he said "what smell?". I wiped my mouth and stumbled home somehow. I kicked broken pieces of pavement and scoffed at the curb-sides hugging garbage. I realized through the streetlights that my shadow wasn't the only darkness following me at night. Out of cigarettes and out of my mind I resented this city for having so many bridges. The screaming trucks below gave some sort of comfort with my feet tangling with the breeze. The stretching hands from out-of-place highway trees grabbed at me and I felt the world rotating. The night that changed me, a three am crosswalk flashed its hand at me, but I kept walking.
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 9:30 AM UTC
And I don’t care how high you are
Is your mind open?
Blissful emotions exploding in these tunes
Mind blown, useless frowns
Wake me up
This life is endless, it’s passing
Moving fast or not fast enough
Fully loaded,Let me spill
Let me fill you in on these beautiful skills
People know different stories
That sought to different meanings
Words equal emotions
Emotions don’t mean anything unless actions are being introduced
Don’t speak to me in one way and value another
Perspectives are opinions from our natural aspects
Floating in the air like we are meaningless
Humanitarian power is powerless
We fear the unexpected and familiarize ourselves with the basics
Never wanting to struggle to learn
Powerless minds are always lurking
Be careful who you become
Everyone’s the same.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 3:42 PM UTC
Passionate
The image of you is engraved in my mind
Each piece is essential to your being
I wouldn't compromise a thing
Obsessive
Observant
I will familiarize myself with your likes and dislikes
Push your buttons just right,
In order for you to hate me just as much as you love me
Manipulative
Misunderstood
Mystery and suspicion thrive within my tense bones
I just want your love
And your tears
Self-destructive
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 7:06 PM UTC
hey. the morning skies looked like they held the secret ingredient for a perfect day. should have taken that as a bad sign. harmless mornings don't always translate into lenient nights. i think i'll never get over this hurdle that keeps appearing on my chest. i'm always anticipating that the ship we're on is bound to crash and sink even when the seas are calm. i'm tired of looking for handkerchiefs in the places we cried in, or in waiting for an embrace after falling off a cliff. i knew that it would hurt, but you were supposed to make the impact a little less painful. i think i'll always long for that reassurance that never came. you made me familiarize abandonment. who wouldn't? when you always sailed away every time i needed an anchor. this was supposed to be another apology letter, you know. even if you should be the one doing the apologizing. well, here goes my apology. but only because this turned out to be a confession. and... **** it*, i admit, i, too, have failed to do right by you.
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 11:52 AM UTC
The horns ring and the bells chime
Room in the lists for no pantomime
Lads atop boney old nags
Stylized of coursers
Of course and manner
Leading the charge, yet fields behind
In all courage, hair flying
Without fear and without crying
Under hoof and boot, to carry forth
Towards lands of unending fame
Yet how quickly the arrow flies
To make his mount lame
And familiarize his clear face
With the dirt, fear and famine
Hidden so plainly within his race
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 4:28 PM UTC
I walk between a beguiling trench
A glowing bridge, paraded with gowns
The other side must lead somewhere?
I look, ponder, plummet, down I gaze at..
The face of a girl unfocused
Drowning my mind out
My reflection from above,
Looks at the Wanderer
Beneath the lowly stars hangs my hairs
The crescent moon wanes
Guiling my innocent feet, to walk my wonder - the spirit captures my soul
What I ponder is a creature, staring at me by the bridges' edge
Holding a flaming lantern - taking my hand
Cloaking my dreams in budded flowers
The creature stirred my peeping mind...
I begin to see my maiden's gown fretting, distressing with the wind
The creature of the ghostly figure greets me graciously
I step upon a grave lair
A burrow lays underneath
I sigh, I'm listening to my hand maiden's grief
Must you show me?
Take charge of me?
I'm lost
In unknown territory - casting dark spells and chants in foreign languages - I run
Casting my arms around a vagueness
I familiarize with a homely scent
A green pasture, guiding me
My beguiling bridge doesn't guide me
It leads me
I must take the budded flowers in my pocket
I blow out the lantern flame
I will lead
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 1:40 PM UTC
We've built a house like we recognize each other's walls, we felt safe on every corner where we familiarize ourselves too well; _it's the anatomy of us._ Our limbs where we cling to were as fragile as the heart I sculpt its own cracks, This body is malleable, it just grew mimicking what the others have— the fragments of what I love, my flesh, my soul and my curve haven't left untouched.
_I shouldn't have grown into you, like this body doesn't belong to myself anymore._
Sep 24, 2023
Sep 24, 2023 at 6:41 AM UTC
The thing about inseparability is that you spend so many sleepless nights trying to familiarize yourself with each and every reason he named the arrangement of those walls "home" and when you finally leave (the candy bowl, the green Christmas lights, the keyboard, the twin size mattress, the bathroom cabinet),
Kenopsia lies in the forgotten combination code and you're left blankly staring at your front door and the splinter in your foot from the plywood floor and the unexpectedly obnoxious ding of the microwave and the look on your moms face when you have to ask which forks are in which drawer and when your cat paws at your tangled headphones but runs when you try to pet her and you remember that she is actually a he and you had to change his name because Matilda wasn't unisex enough for your niece, who's been making all A's in school, no thanks to you, even after the help you promised her was never provided, much like the bowling nights and painting mornings you once planned with her.
And you can't sleep at night because your arms aren't flexible enough to wrap themselves around your torso and rest beneath your neck like his did and your bed makes an unfamiliar screech each time you toss or turn or stretch, or blink, or take a breath and the light can't be turned off with a click of a button and the room is too cold without a radiating body next to you to fill the frigid air with warm words about running toward city lights, and you realize that you've dreamed of a home your entire life and you thought you'd never found it and maybe you still haven't but you've built a structure with his bones and use his curls as blankets,
but what the three little pigs didn't warn you of was that all it takes is a cloudy day to birth a storm strong enough to rip the ribs off their hinges.
The storm hasn't hit home yet, but it's almost hurricane season, and you can't remember where your dad always hid the flashlights from your niece; and light is shed on the fact that darkness houses vulnerability.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 2:07 AM UTC
A recent theme in my Writings
has been Umbral Catharsis:
cleansing of and by the deepest parts of Shadow;
a lesson in the form of a ceaseless Nightmare.
On one Hand,
I am sorry that many of my recent writings have been woeful or otherwise dark; I've just needed to get the feelings out of my Mind and onto proverbial Paper so as to free up Mental Space so as to allow for new growth, and so in that way
I am not sorry at all for what I have written and said;
it is healthy to reflect:
To make of Suffering, Art
and then to share that Art
for the purpose of any Art
is to be borne witness to.
Recognize the Shadow
Observe the Shadow
Familiarize the Shadow
Quarantine the Shadow
Learn from the Shadow
Transmute the Shadow
Incorporate the Shadow
Express the Shadow
and finally, get the **** on with your Life!
Such is Umbral Catharsis
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 3:55 AM UTC
Rock me gently
to the memories
of yester-past
as they leave your mouth
with nostalgic melodies
that tuned my days
with smiles
Run your hand through my hair
and untangle all sense of doubt
it won't be easy, my hair is curly
knotted and messy
and your fingers will have to smooth
them, to make their way to the end
Slide your hand up my spine
and enjoy the ups and downs
of every vertebrae, leading all the way
to my shoulders, broad and standing tall
they had to be, always.. for you
but sometimes, they did sway
Silhouette my curve
and familiarize yourself
with my body, the one that screams
"woman", and not "just for fun"
Cup my face
with hands whose past
vandalized your image
with graffitis of hate
and feel as my cheeks
burst with heat, the kind
that warms the coldest of moments
Lock your eyes on mine
and drown in the well of feelings
I have held for so long
I have circled it with beautiful blue hue
just to cover, what's been there
Slowly slide your fingers
down my neck, where my nerves
would melt for your lips
they would shut down their impulses
and bask under the soft feeling of your kiss
Rest your hand on my chest
and tame my heart that's gone wild
unsure of reality, it just reverted to insanity
my ribcage can only hold so much
my heart remembers, my heart feels
rest your hand on my chest
and feel the cracking noises of a once broken heart
glued together for someone special
maybe with potential, but this heart
was always careful
and beat for no one the way it once did
Make your way to my belly
who was starving for attention
days and nights alcohol infused
hoping you'd tell me I look pretty
Embrace my waist
pull me closer,
a big bang is in the making
I feel the energy burning
the stars are shooting
everyone's wishes are coming true
the world is anew
there's unexplainable energy
in your finger tips
on my skin
in our eyes
I feel it
going in circles,
orbiting ....
"I love you"
it slipped, you said
Open your eyes
look at the skies
a new universe
has been created
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 6:18 AM UTC
Here's my plan
I've thought of it long and hard:
First I'll collect every beautiful word on the planet
listen to every song that contains you
and photographically memorize every child's eyes
every mothers' warmth
every cool breeze
and every single scent of every single field of every newly cut blade of grass
basically, everything that captures the way your fingers feel
when they're wrapped around mine
and I'll take all these and fit them into one cardboard box which I will wrap and prettify
and morph into a poem
which I will end
with stars.
I will then give it to the mailman, who'll read it and know
that it's all about you
and he'll travel the world
searching, going into the places where I failed to go
and find you sitting
the way you do
with both feet up
on the stool
your knees bent
and your face contorted the way only your face can ever be contorted.
He will hand you the poem and you will read it
and know that I am still here,
and you will be moved
and fall in love with me again.
Then you'd begin searching for me though I already told you where I'd always be
and once you remember, you'll find me
and tell me that you've read my poem about mothers and their tender hands
and children with their bright eyes
and the grass which already says it all in itself
and also,
stars
and most importantly you'll tell me that you want me to write the rest of it
because there is so much more we can do together beyond the stars
and I will look at you as you tell me this
and try to familiarize myself with the face I've never had to familiarize myself with before
and I'll stand there watching your lips move
your chest heaving from each breath
and notice that they've changed and somehow I will seem to know that my mouth would not know how to fit into yours
and my head will have to move about a bit to find that nook on your chest it used to be glued too
and I will read that poem back
and then I'll see that just like your lips and your chest, all the words have changed
and that the person that I actually wrote it for
has already failed to exist the moment I penned
the last word
and so I end this poem
with stars.
Aug 8, 2011
Aug 8, 2011 at 6:36 PM UTC
I familiarize myself with the feeling
Because home never felt so distant
I will familiarize myself with my body
And hug the tight curves
And soft imperfect flesh walls
Scarred bruised burned and cratered
This is what home is
This is where I will live
It shouldn’t feel like I’m moving in all over again
But I’ve wanted to move out so many times
I will listen to my arm
It whispers sweet nothings into the holes
Scattered across my body
I live in the walls that cover my eyes
I do leave often though
Not forever
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 11:28 PM UTC
Two years ago,
I never knew you existed, a greek hero waiting for history.
I didn't know there's a someone like you
walking on the pavements of this complicated world.
One and a half year ago,
we were asked to attend a meeting.
As I familiarize with the new set of faces,
I set my eyes on you, for the very first time, a greek hero attentively listening to the speakers during that time,
"he's cute and cool," I said to myself,
but I insisted, "no, just stop it, concentrate and listen"
One year ago,
I saw you in your casual yet cool attire,
The door shut when you passed through the glass door,
but you immediately held and opened it when you saw me left behind the other side
At that moment, you became my hero,
my hero who, I knew, didn't hear my "thank you."
I felt guilty, and I can't forget you anymore.
Within that one year,
my boss keeps on insisting that she likes you for me,
I said "no, I am out of his league."
It is true, I will never be a Penelope of a greek hero like you.
I haven't told anyone about my feelings for you
and I let those emotions die.
I tried to stop thinking about you,
and I succeeded without breaking down and cry.
And there I was, no more smiles, no more blushes,
each time I bumped into you along those aisles.
Until one day,
You talked to me - work-related.
My best friend and colleagues-slash-friends-slash-siblings joked you to me as we discuss official matters,
and the rest was history.
For a few months now,
my puppy feelings for you came back,
We now greet each other, we now talk to each other,
We are colleagues, there's no more to that,
I keep on telling my self,
Because I'm a nobody, you are a greek hero and I will never be your Penelope.
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 10:35 AM UTC
Pain is nothing but a series of ever-growing rooms. We all start off in a small room, sometimes a broom closet or maybe even the crawl space. It’s in room one where we learn about scraped knees, broken bones, bruises, and illness. Once we've learned about the beginning of pain we move forward into the next room.
It’s a lot like the last room, only bigger and harsher. Again the process is repeated but with heartbreak, betrayal, depression, self-harm, and anxiety as the key wounds of room two.
Once those have been conquered room three becomes available. Theft, **** attempted suicide, and addiction reside in its musty corners. And again we familiarize and learn about these mounting pains broadening our empathy.
Of course not everyone follows the same linear path. People end up jumping from room one to room three before even setting foot in room two. Others might find themselves having to double back to the same room over and over again.
The furthest I've ventured is room three. Every day I find myself pacing within its four walls trying to make sense of my hurt so I can move onward to room four. I’m not even sure I want to though. One room leads to another larger room. The only difference is the severity of the pain.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 8:04 PM UTC
I woke up from my stupor
of thoughts
where I bathe from the floods
of my own thinking and logic,
heard his knocking
heart and sang
just the lullaby,
merged with a stroke
of something,
I couldn't avoid
it wears me out
but I can't stand myself
from winding and running
into the land
where I can watch him
and see him
and hold him
and embrace him.
His divine voice
woke me up from my stupor
of thoughts
of my retired song
of my regrets
of my dying requests.
Oh, to discover him
near and down below —
oh, to meet him
and trace his palms
wriggling to get
my face — my eyes,
and feel him in me.
Following me
in another portal of my realm —
were his sole sound
I could tune in
and familiarize;
in the celestial music of his heart,
I can pick up my way back.
Jun 6, 2020
Jun 6, 2020 at 12:35 PM UTC
take heart.
be strong.
be still.
hold on to
that spark
they call hope
hold on
and
never.
let.
go.
familiarize your eyes
with freedom.
make your heart known
to all that is pleasing and pure
be strong and courageous.
it's not over yet.
take heart.
it's
not.
over.
yet.
Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 2:44 AM UTC
Funerals for him is killing loneliness
He sets the alarm clocks in time for the announcements:
If familiarize with the names of the dearly departed:
he lights up like the light on Broadway:
The dearly departed is at rest: his struggles with reality,
of how the world runs: is unsettling:
the funerals arrangements is always the same:
The tone of the announcers : slow and gloomy,
Black and white would always be the traditional attires,
and the hymn ash to ashes will echo in ones ears,
so long as the tears flow slowly throughout the services:
As they lower the leveler into the ground,
they are gone but not forgotten: R.I.P
Poet and death titles,
Death shall have no hold on me,
Death shall not make me sad,
I refused to mourn death: and that's the truth about me
Drinking and eating after the services: Is it a good gesture?
From soak tissues to soggy appetizers: the crowd pleasers
From the wet cemetery: to the living rooms floors
Poets feel and see the irony:
As they sat in their black and white attire, eating and drinking
Mount Gay or cold Banks beers:
The colorful graveyard welcomes another tenant:
Funeral for him is killing loneliness
He set the alarm in time for the announcements.
Fear man, not the dead: we two are so incompatible
**Regardless of whom you are or where you’ve been
You can be what you want to be. W. cement**
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 9:58 AM UTC
Falling freely has become a specialty.
A long, painstaking journey from the top has become routine.
Almost as routine as tying your shoes.
Just think about it.
You take a pair of shoes out of a closet daily.
You place your left foot in the left shoe, and mirror that with your right.
Your feet familiarize themselves with the rubber insole within.
You take both laces in your hand, both possibly resembling a small, hairy animal going around a tree.
Now, instead of tying those laces, take them and make a noose.
Fixate said noose around your neck and tie it.
And whenever someone asks what the most important piece of advice you learned during your fall from the top,
Tell them this:
“If the shoe fits, wear it.”
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 11:12 PM UTC
Hidden behind transparent looking glasses,
she chases red rabbits with ticking hands.
When she nears them,
she feels the wings beneath her bones awakening from their chronic slumber and her hands suddenly burn with the memory of what it’s like to familiarize.
Empty mailboxes and ink stained fingers;
her eyes furiously avoid the image of her palms.
One pair will never be enough.
The door to her conscious transforms into an empty battlefield.
Listen close and hear only the tangled whispers of her former lovers,
for it was they who birthed this war beneath her skin.
Angst trickles slowly into her chest,
filling the new found void.
She had learned to love her temple.
Saw a friendly face every time she encountered her reflection;
understood why it was important to reach this nirvana first.
But like the fostered youth,
there are only so many times one can take back their unwanted pieces without losing them all entirely.
Blue heart beating silently,
she awaits the season where all her colours will change.
Fall.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 9:57 AM UTC
listen to me.
a gathering of words to entrap a moment
that cannot be
otherwise enveloped into something
comprehensible
obtainable
something to last you forever
it will not fade or disappear or leave you
empty again.
you take to the hearts desire
though you can barely understand your own
for what you truly want is deep within you
dying to be noticed
crumbling against the locked walls
you hear it calling in your sleepless dreams
burning your breath
blowing smoke rings into your eyes.
see through the mirror of your heartache
and into
a wondrous feeling of undeniable beauty
one that will lift you from this carefully
placed void of uncomfortable drought
into a greater wanting
a meaningful desire for something
pure, radiant and enamored.
it flows through the sounds that caress your
staggering thoughts
caught in the undertow of your minds
machine
they play relentlessly, over and over
until you’ve uncovered them in a moment of
clarity and perspective
suddenly the words you’re saying seem to
have
the same intention your heart follows
a mutual moment of everlasting truth.
and maybe if you release the feeling through
your body,
more.
soon your heart will lift itself from the burden
you’ve placed
against it, the burden risen
recognize it, familiarize it and set it free.
an inhaled sensation of weightlessness
as the person that surrounds you in the
smoke comes to you
a guided light, harboring your love
and only yours
and the words you speak will be kindly and
breathable
for a moment you will have what you’ve
always needed
you will feel it overtake you with an eager
electricity
(This is not mine but i felt the need to share it)
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 3:40 PM UTC