"fillers" poems
Capricorns, Capricorns are ruled and schooled by the planet Saturn, Saturn, Saturn. A bandit with a similar pattern, pattern, pattern. Capricorns, Capricorns are brethren from a legion; a legion of an atmosphere of the southern-hemisphere; in the equatorial region. At an
angle, angle, angle; Capricorns, Capricorns are angels of Aquarius and
Sagittarius. They’re boisterous, courageous, contagious, glamorous,
prestigious, rebellious, various and victorious-goats, goats, goats!
Capricorns, Capricorns cope, devote, note and quote, quote, quote.
They’re ambitions with superstitions and various missions, missions, missions! They’re novelties and poverties, revelations and
revolutionaries, revolutionaries, revolutionaries. Capricorns, Capricorns are theories and visionaries, visionaries, visionaries.
They’re objects, projects and rejects. They’re leaders and readers that are poetically, negatively or positively dictatorial and doctorial! Some are historical, optical, political and radical; authentic, eccentric,
neurotic, poetic, theoretic, theoretic, theoretic. Unicorns, Unicorns are biblical and mythical, mythical, mythical; they’re ****** exotic, iconic, ironic, magic, nostalgic creatures, creatures, creatures. Their features
resembling a horse of course, of course. Furthermore, they’re fierce and a force. They’re a breed and creed of desire, fire and perspire, perspire,
perspire, perspire! They’re viral, viral, viral! This partial, sworn steed;
born awesome, awesome, awesome and too blossom, blossom, blossom. Unicorn’s spiral, crescent horn usually projecting and protruding from their foreheads. Rough and tough enough too pierce,
pierce, pierce! Unicorns, Unicorns are defendants, independents and
pendants. Hark! Hark! Hark! They’re brilliant and resilient sparks, sparks, sparks! They’re told as bold, old art, from the heart, from the start. Unicorns, Unicorns are fillers and pillars of guide, pride and
stride, stride, stride. They’re along for the long, long, long ride...
Unicorns, Unicorns are strong, strong, strong! Some as a song, song,
song, some throng, throng, throng, some wrong, wrong, wrong. As a
child, child, child; wild, wild, wild! Unicorns, Unicorns overwhelm, overwhelm, overwhelm. Their domicile realm, apparently, inherently and originally belonging from India; alleluia, alleluia for India, India,
India! Capricorns and Unicorns; two different creations. Capricorns
and Unicorns; two different relations. Capricorns and Unicorns; two
different situations and superstitions. They’re rainbows that glow, know and show. They’re of borrow, of sorrow and of our tomorrow.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 9:12 PM UTC
Compliments are thrown around like the statement "that's so gay"
Said far to often for reasons of which know one really understands
Most are meaningless
Most mindless
Most common
Most fillers
Ex "hey, you look cute today"
"Thank you" she said with a smile
Everyone is searching for compliments
Like receiving them means something
Like receiving them makes you a greater human
Reality check compliments really mean nothing anymore
So i'm so very sorry cutie, looks like your not so cute today
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 6:46 PM UTC
Muse the Bobbie, Learned and Scrolling Mentor
For screening this Curtain to show our Task
Basic Words you exhume; Trust, a favour
Later allow us with some Sticks to bask
It takes much swallow to go back to School
And strip us bare with Her Majesty's Words
This how you Speak - With a Rod and a Fool
But then, who cares? Forgans are for the Birds
Now all it takes to supple your behalf
Modelled by the Mad Agent done and pleased
We empty our Fillers; and bid Avast!
Upon Graduation your Skills we take heed.
Thank you so much again, Mentor availed
Success is Reward; Laziness is Failed.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC
20:00 - Dinner
Alone but entertained
I like it that way
21:00 - Skype calls
Not having talked for four days
I've missed her yet the occasional silence is nice
22:00 - Fillers
Scrolling through pictures and sharing thoughts
A pleasant and calm feeling
23:00 - Rethinking
The first hypothetical theories about the day
Laughing at the slip-ups to push them away
00:00 - Reflecting
Doubting choices throughout the week
Faking a small smile
01:00 - Endurance
A familiar feeling spreads
Downcast eyes and a facade of peace
02:00 - Creative
New ideas and thoughts fill up the space
Pick and choosing which ones would hurt the most now
03:00 - Idealistic
Reading stories about happiness, pain and change
Wondering what will become of me
04:00 - Closure
Horrible thoughts tearing down the last walls
Curling up and crying again
05:00 - End
Following a familiar routine before sleep comes
Cradling the broken mind
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 7:00 AM UTC
The solitary reminder,
a sole survivor,
hopeful-placed,
forgivingly encased
in little boxes decorative
hidden in plain sight
throughout our home.
Single and incomplete,
the lonesome leftovers,
openly hid upon bookshelf,
desk corners, fireplace mantels,
storage units of the
I am unlost,
I am unfound,
Raise your hand,
stand up and say
that is me,
that is me.
Minor treasure chests,
of carved wood, seashell real,
acquisitions of trips
to faraway places,
these boxes, they themselves,
visible but unremembered,
just there, no cares,
no one knows,
when or why.
that is me,
is that me?
Space fillers, memory taunts,
grandchildren's playthings, delight,
when they someday come visit,
weather and parents permitting,
finding keys for locks, doors,
from three homes ago.
Can they unlock me too?
Boxes hoard the things
we have lost, but cannot discard,
can't sacrifice, gotta keep,
an admixture of buttons,
dried flowers, faded notes that
once upon a time mattered,
shook someone's world...
Some kept in hope,
others, sequestered, lock-up,
jails that we are both
jailor and jailed,
the joke being on me.
Should we, you and I,
exchange these
cases histories of lost hopes, memories,
it would not be surprising,
if when opened,
the contents identical,
even if you are in Manila,
Leeds, places of need,
and yet,
we would be shocked,
asking,
*that is me,
is that me?*
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 6:34 AM UTC
We are America.
We are the coffin fillers.
We are the grocers of death.
We pack them in crates like cauliflowers.
The bomb opens like a shoebox.
And the child?
The child is certainly not yawning.
And the woman?
The woman is bathing her heart.
It has been torn out of her
and as a last act
she is rinsing it off in the river.
This is the death market.
America,
where are your credentials?
2.7k
"You're so sweet!" "What a cutie!"
Is that the best you can do?
Those are defaults and fillers
I don't want to hear that from you
I want you to point out the things
That the general public don't see
The sides to me that surprise you
Normally masked by timidity
You get to see my lion
But still recognize my lamb
Tell me I'm so much more
Than strangers might think I am
There is a fervid spirit in me
But it's cloaked in a subtle attire
While the entire world calls me simple and sweet,
I need you to call me
A wildfire.
Nov 18, 2022
Nov 18, 2022 at 8:34 PM UTC
A jaundiced adaptation
of fillers raucous threats
attempts obsolete mimicking
in a conspicuous pomposity
of disfigured reckonings
slipped us the tongue of your
ostentatious audacity
mid judgmental manifestations
Disengaged, as our eyes grew dim
' neath the masquerade
of multiplex duplicity
**who the ****** hell do you think you are?**
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 7:03 AM UTC
*forced taste into sour mouth
no, sweet
fillers
static existence yet sun and moons
pretend the liars do speak great truths
masterfully woven
the tapestry
gypsy jewels and patterned art
mistaken for rewarding
left dull my watered part
nutritionally devoid
not punishment or repentance
the fast commences
acute*
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 9:42 PM UTC
We have no memory
Of the things we last talked
Of the time
The place
The moment
The everything
And yet we can just pick up
From where we left
Without ever caring what it was
People have memories
Of what they last talked
And how they last ended
And they pick it up from there
Like a thread that goes on
We are as good as our last memories
With each other
The rest is all a mist
And at times those threads that people are, run thin
And thinner
Yet thinner
And just vanishes
And they never talk again
They never pick up
They just run into new ones
New colours
New textures
New memories
At times though, people are more than these memories
At times, we don’t need memories
We don’t need no occasions
We just pick up
Like it was a perpetual conversation that we were having
Like we were always meant to talk
About everything
And nothing
Even those silence moments of ours
Were like conversations
That never begged any words
That never begged no meanings
And was yet so whole
It was all a giant talk
Like blurbs out of this life
Or was it this life itself
Was that something that was meant to be
Coz it made us so whole
Then, one does not bother what they said
One does not bother about any memories
Or about any of them
Them, the people, passing by
Looking at us
Muttering things
And we only smiled
Or stayed mum
And that was our talk
Coz we always talked
Even when we promised not to
Life was this big conversation
That we were meant to have
And the rest of it all were just fillers
Like those commercials
During those shows
And we would meet after them all
And just pick up from where we left
Or wait
We just did not remember
Where we’d last left
There were no memories
Of what we last talked
There need not have been
Coz life of ours
Is but a conversation
Between us
And those memories that never were
And those that never will be
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 12:01 PM UTC
My poetry is the embodiment
of the creator's fore knowledge of my existence.
My birth to my death are in each line
that I've laid down to lay with.
With a power my speech can not equal
my writings demand I "let there be."
Now, she's calling for me to sacrifice it
as Abraham was told to sacrifice his Seed.
Yet his requester provided a replacement
once loyalty was shown in the raised knife.
A trapped sacrifice to spare the son
from a blade raised to honor the All Mighty.
You know that I would give you anything
yet nothing has pulled my fingers away
from the plunging of blades into my eternity
with each completed writing's lifting away.
Where is my ram struggling in strong vegetation?
Where is your voice stating firmly
that I've done enough to show my heart
and that my lineage has been spared by mercy?
Inspiration tells me its receptive desires
so God must know my divine purpose in creation
is the reception of initiating penetrations
that conceives fillers of the gap between our separation.
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 3:57 PM UTC
You live to tell stories;
so that you can tell somebody important
so that they'll put you on a pedestal
to listen closely for words of amazement and admiration.
You live for the satisfaction of other people
base your value on their comments.
they determine your price tag
Tell me
what will you do when they no longer care?
Where will you go to be admired?
When the world is done with you
and on to the next and
all you have is the past
memories that only played fillers...
that meant nothing but
a trophy to you
they lose their worth,
wrinkles and scars mark your skin and your heartbeat slows
Did you live for you?
or the judgment of someone else?
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 12:18 AM UTC
1.
Nothing is stable:
not moods,
not relationships,
not circumstances.
It is better this way -
when things are bad
do not say “it gets better,”
which may or may not be true.
Say it gets different.
2.
People are not always
going to be there for you
when you want them to be,
they will be busy or sick or asleep or indifferent.
Words do not equate to action.
Words can just be fillers.
“Love” does not always mean good,
“Love” does not always mean support,
“Love” can be in name only.
Love is something
entirely different.
You deserve Love.
3.
“Don’t ask, don’t receive,”
is the way it is.
You must always make an effort
to initiate friendships.
Even so, don’t expect them to last.
Know also
that it is not your fault if/when they fail.
Nothing lasts forever -
this is okay.
People who Know
will sometimes ask how they can help.
If you don’t tell them
they won’t do anything,
won’t offer suggestions,
will probably offer other things instead:
apologies, anger, their own guilt.
If you cannot explain well enough,
be prepared for no change,
no aid,
nothing.
They are not mind readers,
after all.
For some people
explanations won't help,
will not make them
understand.
Let these people go.
4.
If you state a boundary,
and it cannot,
will not,
be honored or remembered,
grit your teeth through it.
Know that it will be okay soon enough,
but always remember
your triggers are still real.
5.
If you engage with acquaintances,
you must find the balance
between Distrust and Hope.
Not too much hope -
that would be naïve,
set you up for a hard[er] fall.
Not too much distrust –
that would make you
Bitter,
Unpalatable.
You must play nice
with everyone,
walk on eggshells
if you must,
but even then
know you will never please everyone and
prepare for the worst.
6.
You will never be prepared enough.
7.
You will learn
what is necessary
and unnecessary
in your life,
how to make do
on very little.
This is a blessing and a curse,
this is the way it is now,
but it does not always have to be this way.
You are allowed
to have wants and needs
standards and expectations,
even if it feels Wrong.
If they cannot handle you,
you do not have to keep them
in your life.
Having very few friends
is not Bad or Wrong or Abnormal.
You can do without
most people.
8.
You do not have to
empty every word of meaning.
Being empty
is a way to stay alive,
but it does not have to be this way.
9.
Your intuition is valid.
Do what feels right,
do not spend time regretting.
10.
You are not weak
like your mother says.
**** your mother,
**** mombrain,
**** every single person
who has hurt you and put you down.
You have survived
23 years of heartaches and breaks,
exquisite forms of torture.
You are strong.
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 12:34 AM UTC
she gave me white light
it looks like a light sword
making numerous echo in space
I did not ask for what ...I know
no ornamental word would do
futile definitions
flashy ads
waste of breath
15 minutes of clutter
15 minutes of fame
15 minutes of a life
yep Warhol was right
empty containers
to be filled up
to create -fillers
a byproduct of ego
of a selfless time
oh what an an illusion
I live in sometime
not knowing media as the bird's call
true technology is my received gift
with me inside or you
is there a difference?
we are all embodiment
carrier of the code
essence of eternal
not to hurry though
not to resist
resist resists the self just
I cannot trespass the chanting
I shall not think to try
thinking is my only sin
why do we fight?
mo and mu were the same guy
two incarnations in one or three
born at different times
their writers failed just
the difference definer
yes definer and not the creator
'create' remains holy
with a spirit – like words with
spirit-
running memory
activated by sound maybe
the difference definer sets bricks
of flamboyance
en route escape to escape lifetimes
invites the endless cycle of fight
could fray be for peace
and not by cowardice?
fear is my only sin
born from ignorance
of self
as in my- as in your-
not a portmanteau but
an affix by nature
so there is no difference
let fray be for peace
then A joker's viola
let it be a joke for
a joyous while
for a joyous halftime
you don't need do much really
if you can whistle once
under the golden sun
through your belly
somewhere in a cool place
selfless illusion fades
there is nothing else
no book could describe
as such
I have crossed libraries
with my starship
but the source light
not bound to time so yes
for whatever it was
I closed my eyes
slowly learning to dance now
along its wings
it has more to tell then its aesthetics
we cross dimensions while
we perpetually make some
the reflection the waveform
in a little note we harmonize
my fingertips- carrier of a glow
I - the particle of light
we pass
and yes after each turn
there is a you to learn from
or I to be.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 8:09 PM UTC
We never talked
Anymore
And when we did
The conversation
dripped
Like a dried up
Desert stream
Funny how then he’d seem
Like a tidal wave of talk
Not letting my words walk
Anywhere
Near his extremely important
Ten minute
Explanation
In which he’d sum up that day’s
Cartoons, football matches, car trouble, his hard day of work that ended at lunch
How drunk he got after work, how drunk he was going to get that night
While he fetted without a slight
Thought of me.
So understandably
He was exhausted
And couldn’t
Wouldn’t
Didn’t want to hear
My ten minuets
Of how I missed
The boy who kissed
Me
At a movie theater
Read all my pathetic poetic
Love letters
Told me I was a better
Writer than I thought
Fought for me
Drove across highways for me
Was in love with me truly, madly, deeply
Who told me constantly
That he loved me
When I didn’t believe it
He loved me
When I didn’t want to hear it
He loved me
When I’d just finished crying
He loved me
I miss the boy who never made me feel
Alone
Whose cell phone
Didn’t mind listening to my voice
And given the choice
Would listen to it
All night
Long.
But that boy’s gone.
And I’m left to pick up conversation
With this
Affectionless alien.
Aug 10, 2012
Aug 10, 2012 at 10:39 PM UTC
Everybody has soul
Our souls thirst
For gods healing spirit
Our souls know
Our souls hunger
Even thirst
To be whole
We spend so much time
Trying to fill that thirst
With everything but
Gods cleansing spirit
Ultimately the more
We fill up on empty things
The more thirsty
Our souls become
We need to let go
Of the fillers of the world
And focus on the
Nourishing power
Of the spirit
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 9:45 AM UTC
You're something a little better then me
I'm something worse.
Sticky fingereds,
Lifted purse.
I'm a thief, a liar
A seller, a buyer.
You're a light
I, the shadow.
The viral killers,
The taxing billers,
Musical fillers,
Blood spillers,
You are my cure.
Silver tongue rusted to dust.
Speaking not a word,
Relaying no dawn to dusk,
I, the wingless
Flightless bird.
Keep bright this sinful day
High above, never a glare
A guarded front of relay
To replace the smile rare.
I do not dare.
Blue bells ring delicate notes,
Vibrations lift, soar and float,
They are elated, they who hear
Gifted are those,
Granted the audible tear
Of angels who weep,
The bitter keep,
Of beauty and turmoil sleep.
I, who keeps the graves at bay
Shadowed by the moon and day,
Collect the tears of widows.
They fall forever, for time is slow.
Though all becomes the past,
Life slips between us
Always too fast.
The sensation of love,
The sweet sights of flightful doves,
Never last.
I, the worst
You, the better between
I, the nameless curse
Of a hundred hexes
Tenfold.
You, the snowfall of light
And life, in a hundred truths
Always told,
In sweet tongue.
The song, flawless
Perfectly sung.
The smile never there,
Has left.
For I, the worst
Am deaf.
And could never hear
The fall of weeping angels
And audibul tears.
Jan 4, 2010
Jan 4, 2010 at 11:17 AM UTC
I.
The day will soon come
when your children discover
that you are Santa.
II.
After Christmas Eve
no-one really wants to hear
Mariah Carey.
III.
Christmas is about
gifts and time with family
and then Doctor Who.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 2:43 PM UTC
I said I walk on floorboards made of dust,
whispering, every breath, you've touched
pushing tear drops down tear ducts
hoping for sin to fall off
crying stories of sacrifice
the children listen
far too much
your stories have grown bitter old man
the children deserve better
I said I've known shadows make better fillers
pleading, I don't want to feel, no, not that much
taping shut my eyes, I remember
this fading light the children know so well
burying legs in dirt, forts are castles
they know airplanes are really
seats that fly
building houses in the sky
I said I was a child once
You said,
why the rush jack, it ain't always time to grow up
Jun 5, 2011
Jun 5, 2011 at 10:06 PM UTC
fingers harming hair
hot fillers gently *********
open horizontal pair
hurried blonde slipping
down her narrow stairs
drop steady fixed stare
hips soaring, widespread
sloppy fall on my rear end
big finale all set, i see red
set in stone that bled
set and sound correct
i paraglided dead
Crack o'clock linger
cranked foreign giver
converting reign- leader
ground control to major
tons of delusion, ships
boarding delusionships
in diluted fusion
never co-depending
neither co-developing
deeply delving, daunting
open- ended forming
TRANS
CULTIVATING
EVADING
RURAL
rotating out of orbit
falling prey to rotting,
bits of gums soaring,
bites of arms Taste -ing
Test sting
Test stink
Test sink-ing
Test sink in
Test sin king
Tes singing:
La lal lala la la lla
Apr 22, 2023
Apr 22, 2023 at 6:03 AM UTC
I've murdered half of
the people who stood
between us to clear
the view
I've been inside
your mind and carved
out love notes
they are on the
bodies you read
on the lives
you try to
reconcile
but there is
no chance
of that now
promises lie, dead,
with the motionless
grave fillers
in a moment
I am holding your
hand in autumn,
watching winter
born
ice and snow
to purify
the way I feel
tonight
I left my finger –
prints on your face
a kiss that lingers
and dies as you
turn cruel
I smell your
aftershave in
their hair as it
rubs off me
onto them
as you
rub off me
onto them
we won't be
meeting like this
again
we won't be
sharing spit
and blooded
bed sheets
and though you
say your heart
is frozen, I promise
it will thaw
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
Darkness creeping
Warmth is leaving
The air is thick
Did you feel that *****
Burning roaring
Sorrows pouring
Tremors shaken
Felt forsaken
Silence screaming
Am I dreaming
Waves crash down
Face with frown
Stabbing fillers
Huge like pillars
Arduous years
Bleeding cheers
Agony death
Feel this stress
Did you feel it
The torment that won't quit
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 6:57 AM UTC
the trees
the trees
what ever happened
to the trees
once our scenery
had acres and acres
of trees
but over the years
we've purged
far too many trees
yet the trees are so vital
in the natural world's ecology
for their leaves perspiring assists
the rain cycle's hydrology
we've not replaced
the trees we've taken down
hence why we've now few of them
in our environment's crown
and our countryside
suffers prolonged dry spells
the trees were such
precious fillers of rives and wells
the trees
the trees
what ever happened
to the trees
once our scenery
had acres and acres
of trees
but over the years
we've purged
far too many trees
Oct 6, 2019
Oct 6, 2019 at 9:26 PM UTC
I don't want magnetic eyelashes
I want magnetic poetry
No Botox for me
Let me wrinkle let me age
It's alright to become who I'm suppose to be
Don't want fake extensions my hair is its own
It will grow out one day at a time
No need for microblading, highlights or ****** scrubs
Won't curl my lashes or disguise my wrinkles
My skin can tell my story through native lines
The burden of beauty is a fools game
I shall use my smiles lines as a accessory
Wrinkle creams will not fix your personality
I refuse to fake fuller lips
Acid peels are not for me
Cheek fillers full of botulism
Skin lasers to erase me
Hair removal will be with a five dollar schick
Keep your tanning beds and keep your Melanoma
Don't need Chanel or Louis Vuitton not paying 2,000 dollars for a handbag
I will be just me
Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 11:52 PM UTC
You are the golden boy,
I, silver.
Your immaculacy is enhanced,
As I stand, downstage/left:
Tarnished.
Trophies are coveted,
Trophies are discarded,
Shiny space-fillers, second place is shame.
I want to be as a child's toy,
torn to shreds with use,
A noble way to go.
You are sanctified, your apotheosis is imminent.
I will stand witness to the fall,
I will stand witness to you.
A one-way ticket to hell, comfortable in a designer handbag.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC