"frustratingly" poems
I am
Eternally exasperated
Frequently frustrated
Incessantly irate
Perpetually perturbed
Awfully ambivalent
Forever fickle
Frustratingly finnicky
Laconicly labile
Madly mercurial
Virulently volatile
And every other ******* adverb, adjective alliteration
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 10:02 PM UTC
I believe
That writers are
So brave
Because each time
They start writing
Blotting ink onto
Their paper
Frustratingly typing on
Their laptop
They rip their heart out
Of their chest
And show the world
What it's made of.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
the problem with dorm rooms
is that there are hundreds of
people
se p ar at ed
by paper-thin
walls
never interacting
only existing simultaneously
(which, is a cosmic interaction if you think about it.)
sometimes I lay in my bed
face against a cold paper wall
and I
think: what are these other people doing?
in this awkward layout of beds and desks
in the earlylate hours of the nightday
are some
sleeping frantically working
drunk in their beds laying frustratingly awake
awkwardly masturbating awkwardly ignoring the awkward ************
having cramped sex sleeping in the lounge to avoid said *** being had
crying and homesick consoling a homesick friend
too high to sleep too exhausted to be awake
or are some just as awake as I, wondering sleepily, what I am doing on the other side of the wall?
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 5:00 PM UTC
I believe
That writers are
So brave
Because each time
They start writing
Blotting ink onto
Their paper
Frustratingly typing on
Their laptop
Frustratingly typing on
Their laptop
They rip their heart out
Of their chest
And show the world
What it's made of.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 10:05 AM UTC
*"A lightning flash... then night! Fleeting beauty
By whose glance I was suddenly reborn,
Will I see you no more before eternity?”*
-Charles Baudelaire, "To a Passerby"
The material of the scene burns and
grays, burns and grays in my mind:
City soot in the frost. Cracked plastic.
Broken glass. Cheek creases where you
said your name. Salt stains on a denim cuff.
Scruff. Tartan scarf. Navy wool. Feather
down, laces, leggings, a buckle. Teeth,
fleece, a crumpled hotel matchbook.
No heat lamp here, where we wait and
meet, wait and meet on the windiest
night. Would you scoff if I said
"Love is two strangers trading fire.”
Smaller matter, now, an Altoid tin of
cherished ashes. I have it, and it murmurs
your lines to me, when I crave that kind of burn.
A familiar ice cube down the back of the neck.
These thoughts have sunken—a bag of pennies
in my gut like a phantom step on a dark staircase,
or the imitation of death in a dream.
Saying something about the lateness of the 16,
You cupped your hand, to shelter the flame.
I try to remember the melody.
The harp strings at the nape of
my neck sang mid-shiver, and you
said something else, which I couldn’t
hear over the choir under my hat.
This missing line is my mind’s one
sound conception of Infinity.
And that’s enough for flint.
A lightning flash…then night!
A flame frustratingly lit, but profoundly felt.
A gasp, a gust like a god's grace, like a song.
Like just enough time for a quick addict’s fix,
like the length of a single, ****** matchstick.
Will I see you no more before eternity?
And do you by chance have a light?
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 5:04 PM UTC
Taken a hiatus
Unhappy with the latest
Words
Put onto pages
They've not been the greatest
Need a vacation
Find that part that
CAN
Be
Creative
Frustratingly
Average
Make them look
Pretty
Hide they're not
Witty
Ignore they're not
Gritty
Hello Poetry
When you hold a committee
To judge me
Take pity
Before you
Unleash
Your
Critique
Remember I'm only running at
Fifty-three
Percent
Capacity
Creatively
I think I'm due an upgrade
To iron out these kinks.
Plug
Me
In
To
Sleep.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
Somedays I don't feel like writing
and it worries me because
'Writers write everday --
real ones, at least.'
I fear being ordinary,
which is tasteless because
maybe being ordinary
is what I need.
The appeal of snapbacks
and hipster haircuts
is starting to make more sense.
Blending into a crowd
might suit me better;
to be invisible but
to no longer be insecure.
Rap lyrics make more sense,
even though I can't relate;
these words are my sedation,
these clothes aren't armor
but marketable camouflage.
My words have been said before,
but that might be okay because
I'd hate to torment myself
wondering about my relevance.
So, to move on, I write,
and I write, and I write
to pander and to conform.
Substituting thought for
appealing diction and
strong imagery, afraid
to show myself because
maybe you're too much
like me, which, surely,
would eat me alive.
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 10:49 PM UTC
reaching for you
is like reaching
for the back of my palm
with fingers
of the same hand...
i just can't
you are so close
close to my heart
yet so hard to reach
so frustratingly far...
your honey sweet words
never desist me
but you are distant away
still i wish you'd stay
the world separates us
you barely know me
but you know me
more than anyone i've told
though you know nothing
about me since
i've told you no more
but you know me so much more
this feeling is bitter
this feeling is...
our profane love
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 5:55 AM UTC
Passing Tweetsie on my way home from work.
In the Food Lion, low-calorie chicken soup
cans under tinny lights.
Sick-green avocados and riding-hood bacon
celebrated the day all your shoes moved in.
Can't we pair those together again?
The blank space on the floor
like a good friend's face seen
without glasses,
washed out.
Frustratingly,
the smell of my own laundry.
mi colada es su colada
Ha!
By the pond, the gazebo we never spent time in
but might have.
The dusk-dark evergreens with delicate lace tips
like spidery lingerie
leggings ripped wide open,
lingering,
recovered from the trash can.
Rainbow polka-dot gift wrap
on my light-blue chest,
flagship of her left-behinds;
A tawny feather earring, the lonely fore-mast
lacking a mate
and
Demure winter-cabin-smile, framed:
green scarf turned seaweed,
the face-down figurehead drowns.
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 12:57 PM UTC
I have known, and I have cared for, those who think
rebuilding a person is love
which is quite nice
in theory
but then, I became destroyed. I was a project,
a house of cards that had fallen
and frustratingly needed put back together, elevated
the way the moon gets lifted from grass
or a friendship necklace
lurches from my lover’s body. His collarbone peak
separating the relationship from the heart.
When someone told me
love can be piecing each other back together,
I just thought of how it could be
crumbling together, too —
mixed up, mixed blood, if he were to die, my
necklace would disintegrate with his
tongue. We would cremate sterling silver
and even then, he would not be destroyed. We are not
scientists, we are two people who kiss
together like how two
wooden-sticks’ll use the same drum to create music.
There may be splinters, may peel but
can still make sound. No one
takes a drumstick to the repair shop, they just
buy a new one —
I want that to be love. Stop trying to
fix me and touch my everything, all my broken parts.
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 5:02 PM UTC
Meat
You make me want to get high and end something.
Your childhood shouldn’t be mine.
You apathetic ****
I know you don’t care.
That’s why it hurts.
You’re father was gone,
Maybe that would be better.
You’re here, but not for me.
You’re just a huge tease.
Without words you flay.
Furl me in a calm.
Just to show what worth you have of me.
I’d rather be whipped.
At least then you’d use me.
Your always at my leash.
If I try to pull you to me.
You’re never at the end.
Endless release of my constant fill.
Never seems to bring benevolence.
Slamming fists, yelling to a burn,
Biting until blood, hurting until bruised.
You’re a tick I can’t rip out.
Burrowed and *****
I can rip my skin open.
Dig in.
You’d never be found.
I’d amputate your from me.
With a saw, knife, or bullet.
You **** me dry, and never pass a nod.
I can’t scream into another.
Or cry with someone.
They’re nothing to me.
Cause they’re nothing to you.
I have no one.
Monkey see, monkey do.
There’s always something absent.
Turgid and deeply rooted.
It hollows my chest when I feel it.
I’ll never taste it.
Or have the chance to waste it.
Finding someone to abridge.
Is frustratingly crippling.
I sting just thinking about it.
You knee capped me.
I’ll never love.
I’ll never be loved.
You made me meat.
You made everyone meat.
Mar 30, 2021
Mar 30, 2021 at 4:23 PM UTC
Waking in darkness to brainstorming moments
Warm under covers on this freezing morn,
Recalling the instants of yesterday’s sequences,
How they developed and how they were born……
*“Moving with grace in a form fitting garment,
Curves in the shadow light tauntingly near,
Beautiful lines in a moment of weakness
Titillate senses erotically clear.”
“Watching the mouth of the bigoted warbler,
Watching him spout his idolatry spiels,
Rhetoric of mind bending, **** licking garbage
Image of self is the place that he kneels.”
“Urgency now with insurances deadline
Making provision for payments now due,
Juggle the baksheesh for paying the piper
Or the cruelty of bankers will cauterise you!”
“Laughter arouses the happiest moments
Merriment opens the faces so well,
Emotively gracious the giving of laughter
Contagiously, wonderfully ringing the bell.”
"Uncomfortably caught in the midst of an untruth
Unconscionably really, can’t call it a lie,
Got caught in momentum of tale in the telling
Upsetting me now to the point where I cry.”
"Can’t recall why, but I know there’s a matter,
Ripping my britches to try to recall….
Something importantly, now to be dealt with
Frustratingly lost in the fog of it all.”
"Harmonies rise like a mist in the temple
Delicate cadences rise and they fall,
I wonder why God allows this unbeliever
To sing with the Angels in his Holy hall?”
“Running my fingertips over her curvature
Feeling the ***** line plummet to fall
Knowing the thrill of elicit collusion
Anticipate promise of wanting it all.”*
Sudden alarm in the midst of a waking
Urgency calls at the dawn of the day,
Heaving my soul into frost waiting fingers
Leaving my dreams in the warmth where they lay.
Marshalg
“Pukehana Paradise”
Auckland NZ.
22 June 2013
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 6:40 PM UTC
THOUGHTS
Days consumed with images and memories of you...
hugs,smiles,
jokes,laughs,
stares, sweet kisses so thoughts continue.
Looking towards the constellations deep contemplations
of whether or not we are destined to be controls my entity.
Distracted by the funky melondies of untalented singers disrupt my yearning heartbeat.
At times the feeling of flight overpowers me
but there's something about you that leads to the constant cancellations of my many trips.
See shorty doo *** rolling oowops...
you intrigued my mind, captured my soul and now your so close to holding my heart that it seems unreal.
I don't fall easily!
You're piercing my heart without my consent.
You shot me in the back and I became limp to all my Desires
all the while I was looking at you,eye to eye,
Yes this was the entire time.
Confusing right,
frustratingly enough its pretty complex this surprise attack.
I have yet to start the healing process but what's even worse is Im not absolutely sure if I want to experience that,
Or if your even ready yet!
Guess Not...
You said you'll take a Raincheck
Just Speak
Ta'resa Pearson
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 12:18 PM UTC
It's the knife of not getting what I want it's
Smelling your chest, inhaling your scent
Your sweat drives me wild, I'm jealous I'm not the same for you and
Feeling you on me, your palms tracing down my skin,
Christening shivers with your fingerprints,
My body melding into yours
Frustratingly unfair, and you don't feel the same, and why-
In the library, when I disconnected myself from your chest
Even though every smell of you was ****** and
Every heartbeat was a syringe,
I lean up and whisper I want you,
And you tell me to be quiet.
You slay romance.
And in over a year of us, and no one else
(And I wonder, what would elses be like?)
Under a thousand days but more than 500
In an imperfect symmetry of silent games and angry longing
I want to make love to you quietly,
I want you to instigate it
I want to lie and feel wanted, not be reprimanded for every stray moan
I want you to want to hear me
With such a burning anger,
The unfairness that I want it all for me, and all for you
I want us to be seamless.
So fluid and streamlined that it's impossible to tell where
You begin and I end.
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 12:37 AM UTC
"It's just so hard to live with someone who is
so ******* miserable
all the ******* time."
"He's always been such a frustratingly
depressing guy."
"I don't like you."
"You do nothing. You're useless."
"What do you mean, you feel like a failure?
Never mind. I don't want to talk
about that."
"You've got so much potential."
"Well, you're a ray of ******* sunshine."
"Have you tried being happy?"
"You're giving off vibes of tension and
frustration."
"The kids are scared of you."
"Jesus! What are you so sad about?!"
They're not wrong.
Eggshells,
eggshells,
step gently around Joe.
I don't bring joy,
and I don't get more likeable.
I am miserable.
I just wish I didn't bring others
down with me.
No, they're not wrong,
but I really wish they were.
Nov 20, 2020
Nov 20, 2020 at 11:10 AM UTC
I wish it was easy for me to do what you do,
But I have never been very good at opening myself up.
You do it with such elegance.
Your every word begs for attention and leaks a little of you into the air.
People breathe you like oxygen,
and have come to need you even more.
Life.
Your eyes tell me what mine could be like
If I dared to follow in your
Rebellious, graceful,
Albeit complicated footsteps;
once again you are the first one on the dance floor,
But the beat I hear most clearly when I'm around you
Is not the one you inspire Club One to clap to.
One million loose-lipped ladies and never a line about you,
because no one has it in them to talk about what isn't in you.
You are a poet's dream.
You are pure beauty in its rarest form--sincerity.
You are every coin thrown in a hat,
every victory yell,
every unexpected smile at the turn of something new,
every bird who refuses to fly in a pattern.
You are what's inside every note.
You are fiercely loved.
You are frustratingly, and unfathomably,
too good for words.
and only the sunshine deserves you.
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 7:41 PM UTC
When I used to read ****** romance novels or online fiction (we all do it when we're lonely, don't lie) Before I was in a stable relationship myself, I'd noticed that when love is described it usually unfolds the same way.
it's a warm ball of light in your chest. it starts out small, unravels, and becomes so big and filling that it radiates through you. hotter than the sun. or at least, that's what they say.
It always irked me to read, because surely love is indescribable?
you can't spin the roller coaster of love into a straight forward strain of thought, enough to actually explain love fully in all it's capacity and magnificent energy.
No little ***** of light could match the intensity of naked love.
This here, is the problem I am having. you can't write it down. all of those beautiful things written by others before? they don't compare. no song, poem, verse or bible passage can compete with how I feel for you. and at the time these cliched descriptions were enough to sate the hopeless romantic inside me but now, now that I am aware of love I can't abide the misrepresentation it gets.
Nothing compares to you (Ok, maybe Sinead O Connor had the right idea...) and because nothing compares to you, I can't write. I have no songs to sing and nothing to write because I'm happy. I'm more than happy... I'm beside myself.
I can't capture you, my feelings for you, or the magic of our connection in any art form. supposedly it's because it is it's own art form. our love is art, priceless and constantly changing.
It bothers me because I want to tell the world. I want to show them. I want to run up to all the lonely people, who felt like I felt and go "IT EXISTS! YOU WILL FIND IT! HOLD ON! DON'T LOSE HOPE!" because they need to know... they need to understand.
but if love can't be expressed correctly, they will never understand.
So to the lonely people ;
Love is incomprehensible.
It is life saving.
It is frustratingly beautiful and unbelievable. it is every cliche you've ever heard of and much, much more. it is definitely not over rated. don't ever stop looking, don't ever give up hope. it's there and one day, you'll feel it too.
Apr 22, 2010
Apr 22, 2010 at 5:03 PM UTC
It feels nice to
Finally have tears
Fall;
After weeks of
Borderline crying
But
Frustratingly nothing
Coming.
Salty tears
Staining my cheeks
Dribbling,
Spilling,
Running from
My lashes
Feels free.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC
Goodbye.
It pains me to say this to you because I honestly don’t want it to come from me but I have to. So goodbye.
We were in the brink of something so beautiful but you chose to end it because of something I still find too shallow. It honestly makes me wonder how it will be if we pushed through but the fact that it was so easy for you to let me go made me think that, “I guess it won’t end well if we continue.” Fears will always be present, babe. The key is not to let it get to you but it did, and in a bad way.
I can’t even begin to imagine how our life would be like though, you know, if we continue. And the more days go by, the more I doubt myself if I want this. Well, scratch that. I want this so badly, but I don’t think it will work. I am torn between giving this a shot with all my might and just letting this go because I know in the months to come, the pain will be more unbearable.
Our personalities just don’t mix well with this frustratingly uncontrollable issue. You fear that when you leave me soon, we will be worse than what we are now. That’s why you think it will be easier for you to leave without having any extra baggage, me. My friends called you a coward, but some people just don’t understand. They don’t understand the depth of the situation because simply, they’re not in it. They can say all they want to and anticipate how it’s like being in our places right now but they’re never going to understand the pain and the feelings in between that go with the situation. They just don’t.
We were a perfect match. And I guess because of that, we burnt out. I feel like there’s a huge void inside me and I can’t make any sense out of it, because we were never together but you made such a huge impact. We were, are, and will be nothing but an ALMOST.
But if anything, I want to let you know how much I loved our little infinity capsuled in a span of 1 month. Many great things happened in that short amount of time that never happened in the years I’ve had with anyone else. And I will always be grateful for that. I now know that I deserve a love like that, and more. You showed me how it was to feel special and to be appreciated for who I am, flaws and all. I was the most beautiful girl in your eyes and I hope one day we'll find our way back and give our love another try. I hope that when that day comes, we'll continue our story rather than just leave it with an ellipsis.
I guess I’ll still be here for you though, but in a different way. I’ll always be your cousin’s classmate who made your heart skip a beat at day one. I’ll always be the girl who knows how to make you laugh even when you’re not in the mood and I’ll always be that stubborn “almost” girlfriend who made you feel like you were the best “almost” boyfriend.
Take care of yourself, big guy. Goodbye.
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 1:00 AM UTC
One morning he found that age
had arrived and moved in to stay
like some unwelcome relative
whose existence he had always doubted.
Suddenly, the past retreated into
a vast, unimaginable distance
and youth became someone else.
Even midlife was a stranger.
Old things began to happen:
his wife had a new husband and life;
his grown children had futures
and didn't come around much;
the news became frustratingly familiar;
*** devolved into ritual;
the best cats were all dead
like more of his friends each year.
He woke for good at four AM
after thin, elderly sleep
and spent the early hours
with bourbon, coffee,
cigarettes and jazz.
Age just smiled, had another drink,
and made no move to leave.
- mce
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 7:30 AM UTC
the sun was coming
up over the residential buildings
of west philadelphia
I couldn't remember where I was
or how I had gotten there
the bar almost a mile away
from my current location
I was sitting down
afraid of the tumultuous nothing
that clouded the last 6 hours
and the vague scent
of double whiskey's and coke
still on my breath
I couldn't recall how the
night had ended
the dulled flashes
of memory
were frustratingly brief
but no one was awake yet
and the city looked amazing
in the day's nascent glow
my head was ringing
an amazing ache
that spread rapidly downwards
from my skull
and I sat there
for a little while
contemplating the
emptiness
and what exactly I had
done with myself
one beautiful friday morning
on the steps of
Parker's barber shop
I was brought back to life
confused and alone
it was a terrible miracle
to still be alive
with no money in my wallet
as I began the long walk home
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC
in a room full of strangers
id still know my place is at the back
ill keep my head down
and look for the confidence i lack
my days are filled with emptiness
its been days of deafening silence
and days with satisfying pain
its been driving me insane regardless of a license
but my nights are different
theyre dull but blue
theyre peaceful in a way
but still my heart is filled with people i can talk to
cause my heart is filled with strangers ive loved
and its filled with strangers ive lost
and now that i wanna talk about my ****** day
i know that talking to them would come with a cost
break your heart for me
said the one i loved too much
he doesnt smile nor does he frown
he looks like we just plainly lost touch
sing me a song you know i love
said the love ive had that i had not taken care of
she seems genuinely surprised when i told her i cant
because i cant remember her favorite songs, the keys are all off
lets be alone together
said the one who thought i loved too little
he cant look me in my eyes but hes holding onto my heart
i held onto his hands and crushed my own heart, a things so fickle
tell me the truth, not your truth
said the love i never knew i could have
shes strong and caring but i cant begin to understand her request
i told her my truth is all i know and the truth is a thing i cant grab
tell me a story, a good and happy one
said the one i cant ever love truly
my reflection stood in front of me, firm, unwavering
unlike my faltering soul that begand crumbling fully
and just like that im also a stranger on my own heart
lost and fazed, confused and frustratingly hopeless
cause my heart is filled with strangers i have loved
and now its filled with acquaintances that will never love me back
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 10:38 AM UTC
a million passerbys pass
myriad of blurs and glimpses of life
fleeting moment starstruck at someone's
significant insignificance and
insignificant significance
a breathtaking epiphany
the art of wondering is somehow
frustratingly beautiful
Nov 21, 2019
Nov 21, 2019 at 6:32 PM UTC
i hate myself in that resigned sort of way that it gets to the point where you don't care about anything. you'd rather destroy yourself all the way than go and fix up all those tiny little cracks that need stitching.
i'm sorry that i run away from you every time you tell me you need me and i'm sorry that when i come back i pretend like it's never happened, as if you didn't spill your soul to me and i never selfishly shied away.
you deserve someone better than me to speak with, someone better equipped to deal with everything. you need someone who wants life about all else, who can find beauty in everything and make sure that you are happy and help you. because, though i wish so much that i could, wish i knew how, i can't discourage you.
i agree with you in that aspect. suicide seems like such a beautifully promising escape and even embarrassingly now, i crave it. that is why it is so frustratingly hard to find reasons for you not to.
i'm sorry love i really really am and i can't seem to be able to put this any other way.
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 11:35 PM UTC
Every time i see you, my mind goes blank.
Frustratingly, so do all the things i wish to say to you.
For some reason, though, our memories still dance before my eyes.
As i think maybe the same thing has happened to you,
Curiously, i look into your ocean eyes. and what do i see?
Emptiness.
Dead. you killed us. i am dead to you.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC