"histrionic" poems
Magnetizing physics
Magnetic chemistry
Precise mathematics
Bubbling biology
Histrionic history
Attired economics
Refined fine arts
Electrifying looks
Electronic vision
Scintillating psychology
Ventilating physiology
Tantalizing mechanics
Tranquilizing metabolism
Dynamic damsel
Oh! What a scientific disposition?
Kudos to the Big-Bang Beautician.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 6:31 PM UTC
The pastor is preaching, is trying to hit
the heart today: What really is Mass, why
is it the center of our faith, why really do we
come? Familiar questions I’ve asked (though
minus the m.) Now this is interesting. He says,
this church is Bethlehem, the home of bread.
His voice is gradually becoming a mewling
through the microphone that annoys me, the
strings in his box tightening to a choke like
ends of piano wire, almost always to tearing.
I can’t see past the doxologizing, but it sounds that
this is why we come, his eyes might just have torn.
It is the day of the nativity of some
Lord, or incarnate God, or son—an almighty
Savior. I guess I’d be histrionic too, then, if I
knew there was something called my Salvation.
If all that was needed was to repent and believe
and be faithful and give yourself.
That’s not really hard if you never happen to
not know your sin or whiff at air or be betrayed or
fail to be gotten. At least something else is, though.
There’s a girl I spot I would like to **** She is
attractive from where I’m standing, flirty I can
tell, leering at me and gossiping with another
cute girl. If I happen to meet her after the service,
I’d like not to have to say much to get her in bed.
That way, there isn’t the risk of exhaustion or
feeling pointless from trying to tell so much.
But that is always going to be hard. That is why
I’ll stop sometimes, just chew the bread.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 7:17 PM UTC
Magnetising physics
Magnetic chemistry
Precise mathematics
Bubbling biology
Histrionic history
Attired economics
Refined fine arts
Electrifying looks
Electronic vision
Scintillating psychology
Ventilating physiology
Tantalizing mechanics
Tranquilizing metabolism
Dynamic damsel
Oh! What a scientific disposition?
Kudos to the Big-Bang Beautician.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 6:23 AM UTC
…i have learned my lesson / One should not give the impression / of being too happy / as you don’t do
happy / you and angry / are comfortable / misery / your longtime friend / but with happy / you are
unacquainted / and / too much joviality / for too long a period / puts the proverbial underpants in a bunch /
too much free-range fondling / and unnecessary emotion / is a commotion / that puts the Neanderthal in
you / into uncharted territory / off the clear and obvious path / with a virtual stick / banging the bushes of
my spirit / waiting to see what emerges / and surprisingly / you are surprised / that what emerges is /
seldom what you expect / but what do you expect? / That i will continually ride this / histrionic
rollercoaster? / apprehensively peaking hills? / uncertainly braving valleys? / stop the maniacal ups and
downs i think i want to get off / on you / and with you / but that just wont do / cuz you / fail to realize /
that I am / percolating and oozing / straight inundated with / sweetness / and to get the full overflow / of
said sweetness / is a privilege… / and not a right… / therefore / to the benefit of no one / and as a
consequence of your / vacillation and inconstancy / i have made the determination / to Cap this most
fundamental Well / sadly / i have learned my lesson…
Jan 29, 2012
Jan 29, 2012 at 7:21 AM UTC
Te/Fi
or
Fe/Ti?
Ne/Si
or
Se/Ni?
maybe I'm just well-developed
or maybe I defy
labels
maybe I'm schizotypal
but I'm probably just
Histrionic
and Narcissistic.
the clever part is,
if I wasn't,
I wouldn't be telling y'all,
would I?
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
She, betrayed, in histrionic flow,
Heart akimbo, flailing at the sky,
Fired with voyeuristic need-to-know,
Rages at the outing of a lie.
He, defensive, understanding, sure,
Accommodates the outburst in his stride.
Lassoes her with a practiced sinecure;
Instinctive gesture, expertly applied.
She, bewildered, aimless and morose –
(He, distracted by the barmaid’s hips) –
Casts aside the guilt-effacing rose;
Repealed devotion scrawled upon her lips.
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 2:11 PM UTC
A perfect life
A beautiful girl
Popular by definition
Beautiful curls
The struggle to be fit
And a histrionic mother
Paints a flawed picture
Like no other
A secret relationship
Between the best friend and boyfriend
A storm is brewing
She cannot comprehend
A beautiful breakdown
The boyfriend is urging
She wants to keep up
No longer a ******
A beautiful mess
But no splendor to be found
Like three yellow roses
Crushed on the ground
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 5:22 AM UTC
like a histrionic mutant
involved in false calisthenics
he leaves the books unread
reaches for a burning ghost
there is no light, no colour
just tears of illusion
only three and a half thousand
square minutes
once the thickness of a sorrow
that is both exuberant and hard to pin down
the vaporious experience of breathtaking emotion
like a day smoothly solved
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 9:49 PM UTC
My tongue is sharp like incision.
And scatters every thread of your brain with precision.
I'm as histrionic as the rest of em.
Like many above, I beg for a little and then some.
I'm the self-hate cousin born rotten.
Killin cells from sins forgotten.
And I can take from your broken piece.
Stick it to mine and build a masterpiece.
Your lovin fits soft like silk stiletto.
And sends me straight to the lazaretto.
But I'm a split-tongue trash-talkin mother ******
And fallin from one scheme to another.
Spittin the same mistakes from my past.
And trying to find something to last.
Yes I'm gonna end with a risk.
Send my mind way down for a kiss.
Save myself from razor-to-wrist.
Waste away with me in the abyss.
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
This universe is a void..
a twisted confusion
a histrionic tunnel of illusions
confused for the natural occurring.
what is normal they ask?
They ask yet their is no answer to this mind twisting question.
normal doesn't exist.
this will keep your mind on lock for days.
weeks.
for their is no straight answers to this complex idea our minds initiate.
normal is something everyone is taught to know
something everyone just follows just because that is all we
are ever taught to go after.
what if I step out of line? tell me what happens then.
we are considered out of norm?
"an outcast"
but im sorry.
this is the opposite.
my mind tells me that the whole world is out of the norm.
what then?
will the world adapt to my views?
what if answers didn't exist?
how do our minds formulate such things.
things that make us satisfied.
what if the answers we were ever given were always lies.
or wrong all these years.
do you feel a sense of confusion?
do feel crazy?
If you feel crazy then you are not.
If you say your not crazy,
then yes,
you certainly are crazier than crazy itself.
I feel this feeling that we are living in a world that knows nothing.
what is nothing?
is nothing....
-----------------.
yes I suppose.
but is that what we are taught to know that nothing is ------------?
what is.......?
Apr 22, 2012
Apr 22, 2012 at 12:13 AM UTC
i hold my breath as i read through
i hold my breath as i always do
whenever there’s something
something about you
that comes out of the back of my mind
out from where i left you behind
It’s a pity how it all goes to waste
a day or two, a month or two
then i’m back crying because i miss you
this histrionic mind of mine is a wreck
for more than 5 years i’ve been wanting you back
i let you go, i set you free
she let you go, she set you free
is it really fated?
this fantasy of you and me?
Feb 9, 2012
Feb 9, 2012 at 2:43 AM UTC
So is this an addiction, a crude misconception?
Mostly feeling the wind creased in the wrong direction.
What I thought I like, what they told me I was,
Now fades from the glimpses of eternity.
Fashioning a pedestal for a new tomorrow,
Blind but with faith I caress all this sorrow,
I bid you adieu, **** you, subdued.
No I am not in remorse, I cannot alter my force.
By the fact that the energy deranges like swollen entropy.
Can be acknowledged yet immaterial to intrigue.
Echoing the silence that for soothers to ring.
Loss of the false feel of psuedo-histrionic-apathy.
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
call the cops.
they cooking rocks
in a shanty town compound
its just how they get down
most denounceable settlement
heroine needles nettle men
shredded by early elements
surely only pure irrelevents
no evidence of life
that reflected
anything intelligent
they were like
hell with it;
preferred not
to confer the
elephant in the parlor
though of pachyderm stature
he still delicate & he starvin.
attention ya'll.
there's histrionic
insect larva writhing
inside dying bodies
of constants.
wanting nothing but to be alive
to watch the sky ***** lights
contrite with wasting time & space
decided to face what made the comets
atum & adam & atoms.
dizzy sassed her,
kiss me ***
slapper
pass the days faster
calmly
this was a disaster
it sounds so wrong
but
how else
do you say it.
it seems
there is no
safe explaination
that demons &
godless heathens
still hold faith in unseen reason
aurical feelings
bottomless meanings &
improbable teachings
exploring the being
& being anything
more than whimsy
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 8:57 PM UTC
Shallow people crave shallow love.
It's all they know, all they're made of.
Somewhere along the line, they never learned
How to have compassion, how to wait their turn.
They are high maintenance, always vying for your attention.
If they feel they don't have it, they throw a tantrum.
Self-esteem? Yes, I think they should get some.
Respect for others? They really have none.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC
Hypocritical catastrophe,
Irreverent duplicity,
Luminarial ludiocrity,
Nonsensical impetuosity.
Flippy floppy, slippy sloppy,
Blamey gamey, shame, shame, shame.
Constitutional incongruity,
Jesuitical dictatoriality,
Oxymoronic partiality,
Nepotistic surreality.
Materialistic abnormality,
Monetaristic conviviality ,
Ritualistic mediocrity,
Histrionic philanthropy.
Gotten rotten, misbegotten
Seldom truthful, lie, lie, lie.
Misdirection genuflection,
Malefaction justification,
Incarceration implication,
Resignation profliferation.
Prevarication reiteration,
Damnation indication,
Malefaction direction
Undetected discretion.
Flippy floppy, slippy sloppy,
Blamey gamey, shame, shame, shame.
Gotten rotten, misbegotten
Seldom truthful, lie, lie, lie.
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 3:49 PM UTC
Love of it is
the ROOT of all
Evil,
Yet there is no
way,
we can do without
it,
beggars & rich
old & young
men & women
all go in search of it.
Some spill or shed
blood for it,
others loose their
MORALS & dignity
for it.
Our societies are
Ethically corrupted
by it.
Minds are filled with
Hideous thoughts on
how to acquire it.
It has created unaltruist
world,
Source of it's power
still remains CRYPT.
Both of us are blinded
by its hocus-pocus
and HISTRIONIC
manner,
we've lost our sense
of NOUS and
fell in love with papers
and COINS.
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 9:03 AM UTC
Silver streams of light pour over me as I stand (rigid),
fabric billowing like current behind.
The Bull circles, muscles like rippling stone
(waits to pounce, o' tenacity).
A histrionic roar splits the sky,
like a makeshift engine revived.
All gears moving,
grinding,
calling for oil to soothe its aching joints.
Precious onyx glistens from within sunken sockets.
Every nerve ending tenses,
bracing for incoming attack.
We dance a dangerous tango,
of clashing swords and strange waves,
of instinct and desire.
I see him, recognize my fate
within the void that croons its siren song.
He sees me, accepts the nebulous pull
between us.
For the first time, he is both prey and predator,
pirouetting for asylum and control.
War god he is,
hunter he knows;
but I am Beast Tamer,
am Gazelle with dragon's breath.
The curtain falls and the Bull dives,
disappearing
behind the crimson like a napping flame.
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 11:31 PM UTC
i dont get why people talk to me? im so anti social. i may be nice or friendly, but once i think we're good friends and i try to hang out with just me& you or just text you, i know you'd rather be doing something else then talking to me because i **** conversations. i'd rather sit by myself then have to carry on a conversation. i dont have any ambition, i've made so many mistakes. i try to make things right but nothing works. no talent, no grace. i dont get why people call me their friends or enjoy talking to me, because i wouldnt. yes, some nights i need that 1 person to just talk to, but even though i hate messaging first, i still do it. even though i know the conversation wont last long after that, i still continue to press send. the dumb stuff i've done and been through is crazy. im not surprised how i lost a ton of friends. i feel like everything needs to be about me, some histrionic **** thats what it is. i cant deal with this. now that i know, it actually bothers me even more.
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 12:10 AM UTC
Seeing stars while standing still,
There’s no denying that you’re ill,
Denial persists, stabs and twists
You stand in a fog a filled abyss
Searching for words, but instead you just drift
Empty handed time after time
You feed yourself lies and pills, there’s no denying that you’re ill,
More doctors than friends, you try so hard not to let the pain in
Chronic or Histrionic, whose to say in the end?
Rhetorical epiphanies are your oldest friend
Seeing stars while standing still,
The beholder’s eyes find solace in nature’s will
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 5:10 PM UTC
A Day Of Thinking or
This Is The Way My Brain May Work On Any Given Day
Breakfast In Bed
No one in this world
Makes thinner toast,
Better toast, winner toast.
You do not boast.
How have you learned to slice
This near-transparent, indisputably crunchy piece of bliss!
What skill! And modest too!
No one can make such toast as you.
Going In To Thank
Going into different segments of the brain
I thank for life in any of the synapses.
Is there a gratitude partition
Or a separate, section - special one?
An all-inclusive?
I don’t always feel it – just today.
It probably will go away.
I hope it leaves a record.
Late Afternoon
Deep, deep inside
I’m feeling tired of society.
It’s like, what I imagine to be
What they call depression.
It’s connected to reality; civilization.
There’s the problem -
It’s not me, it’s them!
I ought to put away the TV (I’ve no phone)
Things electronic, dailies, monthlies,
All things histrionic;
The destructive, scandalous and shocking;
All things not-to-be: illusory.
Noel Coward wrote “World Weary” –
A light, song for something serious.
Perhaps that’s it!
There still exist fall hues phantasmagorical:
Food tastes, sweet music, friends amusing, loyal,
Beauty, animals…and still I feel
Despite the goodness,
Deep, deep sadness at the mess.
A Day Of Thinking 10.28.2016
Circling Round Reality;
Arlene Corwin
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 8:08 AM UTC
what lie spawns from this murk,
muttering, slithering, telling us
that we may banish our troubles
if only we turn our eyes from them? -
that simply playing the actor's role
for a world that suits the histrionic
can change who we are?
projections of detachment
through routine ignorance
will not fool the world we inhabit -
can not fool those who know us best -
for they both know what cripples our minds.
the beast named doubt had sticky fingers,
made away with all our self-assurance
one day when we weren't guarding it too close.
we pretend we were too clever for it's ruse,
say we saw right through, kept intact -
we say it strong, with faux confidence:
paper-thin, the clearest falsehood.
we are the ones with impurities
striking our skin at ugly angles,
cracks in the resolve we chase after
that turn to cliffs we cling to
for the smallest thought
we can fight what ails us
by simply taking shelter in ourselves
and turning the lights out.
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 10:35 AM UTC
Locked away in your cage, carve your own rage
Dressed in a tawny bittersweet shimmer
Growing beneath your sister's shoulders
Overly histrionic, in bald cure
I have lost the immortal part of
myself, and what remains is *******
Pushing exultingly with all your might
Pursuing lions which are not yet even within sight
Dancing and carousing until old age and infirmity
Talking without speaking, boasting of offspring
For you, every minute is expectancy
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 12:48 PM UTC
We live in a histrionic world
A world full of words and emotions
A Shakespeare's theatre
Rolling the shots of life,
Weaving the emotions
Singing the lyrics of different verses
Dancing on the rhythm of our sword.
We are
Parodists
Librettists
Odists
Balladists
Metrists
Rhapsodists
Sonnetists
//We are poets.
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 4:21 AM UTC