"headroom" poems
Here’s an ode to the place that I sleep every night --
My apartment, so small, it can barely fit light.
My bathroom is my kitchen, which is also my bedroom,
And I walk on my knees because there’s a shortage of headroom.
I don’t bring girls home because there’s no room for lovin’,
If we fall off my bed, we’ll end up in the oven.
There’s a cold draft all the time, at least that’s how it feels;
I sleep with my feet out a window, and birds crap on my heels!
I have One Single Light Bulb that dangles over the bed,
And works 10 percent of the time, but it’s usually just dead.
When I cook food I have to make sure that windows are open wide,
Cuz if not, the smoke gets so thick you can’t see inside!
And my smoke alarm is broken, which is actually a good thing,
Cuz if it weren’t, all day long I’d hear that piercing RIIINNGGG!!
My apartment is a disaster! I want back my money!
It’s really depressing even though it sounds funny…
I wanna find the landlord, that cheapskate disgrace,
And in lieu of next month’s rent, give him a slap him across the face.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
<<>>
Our wizened kismet is total exhaustion
Our headroom, now the coffin, holds in-
Our memories that die so often
<<>>
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 4:24 PM UTC
I'm blinded, aware of nothing anymore
The emptiness has reached from the heart to the core.
The obscured disguise of the illuminating ray
sealing me in the undying darkness to have me gone astray.
The strong hold my mask has on me,
an abstract reminder for I'm a volcano under sea.
The compulsion of uncertainty thrusting fakeness on to my lips,
a constant practice that immediately curves its tips.
My heart is stabbed with the cureless contrition
Agony oozes out by rejecting termination.
Vagueness finds its home in the feelings I try to verbalize
Insanity strikes my thoughtful headroom to unstabilize.
My wounded heart and insane mind conspire to develop a defence
against these harsh feelings that forge a fearful nuisance.
Callousness, a nightmare dressed like a daydream, a bitter hope
The dream comes true along with the bitterness to cope.
That's how I sculpted myself into a cold stone,
choosing to become all numb and alone.
I'm blinded, aware of nothing anymore
The emptiness has reached from the heart to the core.
Standing straight a stiff statue, I
wait for something to be moved by...
Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 11:34 AM UTC
Ramona, whoa, whoa Ramona
Whoa, whoa, Ramona
I see you lying there in your bedroom
Gathering all these thoughts in your headroom
You can never just take a break
Just taking in all this heartache
Lying there in your white t-shirt
Accepting and concealing all this hurt
Oh please, Ramona, just take a second to breathe
We can just take our leave
Go somewhere far away
Never needing to pay
For all the hate and anger we share
We’ll run away on this dare
Ramona, why don’t you just hide?
Show me your honest side
We’ll just play alone at night
We’ll turn off the light
Let’s not worry
Let’s just hurry
To that quiet place we call escape
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 10:49 PM UTC
Do you speak to yourself
With respect?
Thinking back on words
Fit for retraction, do you call
Yourself *idiot? "Why didn't
You just shut up? Stupid,
Stupid, stupid!"*
Spitting foot flavour
On your own shadow, leaving
Bile, regret and self-loathing on
The walls and floor
Of your headroom.
*"You always mess up.
Why will you never learn?"*
Forgive yourself. How would
Another feel if spoken to
With such hostility?
Day after day.
Minute after minute.
We talk down to ourselves
Like invisible
Evil twins.
Be nice to yourself, even within
Your innermost of monologues.
Be nice.
Watch your mouth.
Don't talk like that
To my friend.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 8:34 AM UTC
I am stuck in an overture
of what it's worth of being sure
that the smoked had cleared
on headroom left nothing but feared.
I am dreading a crossroad path,
tell me what good can I get from that?
As long as this insecurity subsides
I shall tread the least before I tried.
I tend to settle with what I felt eased,
since the light shown upon me makes it's way east;
to abide by my nailed perception of reality
thus I have obscured the fact that I wrote such finality.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 4:36 AM UTC
something's not right
what happened last night
i can't recall your name
something's not fine
i don't know why
but i won't play your game
why are you so cryptic
don't you know i'll miss it
why you leaving hints babe
did you mean it this way
puzzle pieces everywhere
scattered pieces here and there
leaving all these breadcrumbs
all over this bedroom
no space in my headroom
assuming you exist still
assuming that it's all real
it's something i can go with
but now i can't control it
now it's out hand
i don't understand it
help me to expand it
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 12:45 PM UTC
BucketheadLand...
Once you try it, you won't go back but will come back.
When BUCKETHEAD SOLOS everything is spinning,
makes my headroom wonders: is my head or the room?
Awesome Awkwardness Award won through unanimous vote
by bucketbots and scared chickens, coming in a bucket UFO,
from Bucketheadland in our Brain... Brian Buckethead.
He wins all day every day, but hey...
Who is keeping count?
Nov 27, 2024
Nov 27, 2024 at 2:49 PM UTC
my mind is a mess that i refuse to clean because it is the only way i know where everything is
unfinished thoughts piled on a chair to be dealt with neve–“later”
ugly memories shoved to the back of the closet in an attempt to pretend they don’t exist
half-baked ideas scattered on the desk, waiting to be made
random items pinned to the wall that will soon either connect together or be thrown out
and pizza everywhere
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 3:10 AM UTC
As dreams pass
feet bleed
as I stumble around your rooms
heartbeat
heartfelt
adrift in memories
hamonies shift
things end
can't bend
can't mend
the hours lost in remission
no transition
the walls are tired of my swagger
clock ticking in my headroom
this tomb
no bloom.
doom zone
take me home
please take me home
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 3:54 AM UTC
'Aye-aye', 'hear-hear', sang tired chorus,
hearing debate, debate, debate,
then, on cue, with tumult raucous,
starts another to pontificate
their voices rose unto the galleries
where painted ladies gave their view
as if the exercise helped lose 'em calories
in nod of applause or heckle of boo
'He's good', 'He is', 'He must be so',
'I heard it from his very own lips',
'Don't tell me that he's got ego,
He needs it in case he slips'.
"he's like a bull in china shop,
he lacks finesse and savoir-faire,
besides, his head looks like a mop,
his pate asprout with unkempt hair!"
the ministers shuffled on their seats
bade Prime Minister rise and speak,
the angels yawned and looked away,
a waste of yet another day
the lions roared
the angels laughed
and when bear clawed
G-d looked past
the rigmarole itself played out,
in deference to ritual
laborious talk, laborious shout,
convention as habitual,
in dark corner came a cry
'twas barely heard by passer-by
the house is small, one bedroom,
latrine outside with no headroom
in celestial court there's outcry
as tears of anguish reach the sky
G-d roars in pain, seraphim quake,
And claws the heavens for His namesake
Apr 28, 2021
Apr 28, 2021 at 4:34 PM UTC