"holing" poems
All birds
All birds should make noises
On tree branches with full choice
Loud or small but with nice melody
Naturally attention drawn at them by everybody
Of late I have lost little hope
The revenge and bloodshed doesn’t stop
In every street there is violence
Life has become hell since then
The change is must and welcome
Let it be blown from any direction and come
It must be encouraging with enthusiasm
There may appear some improvement with mechanism
We hear disturbing news
Worst affected countries may be hardly few
Yet it has witnessed lots of carnage
Blot on humanity and painted as dark page
It could have been avoided
Little concession would have been given or granted
What were they holing back and asking in return?
Little peace to live in and prosperity in turn
Who can be trusted upon?
Law protector or merely lip actors?
Honest military rulers or civilian representatives?
All are corrupt and wants to rule by proxy or relatives
Power is such a greed no one may want to leave
It has to be imposed on them forcefully to relieve
They want mass concentration of wealth and power
Rule over millions, keep them starved and poor
I wish no god may shower them with blessings
They have to flee the land and face the worst chase
No place for them to stay peacefully and alive
Alas! They could have earned blessings to survive
There can be no end to any kind of lust
Even animals may want or have it as must
We are human and should know about the result
Why not then it come peacefully without curse and insults?
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 8:34 AM UTC
this morning I awoke to find little lettered squares imprinted across the side of my face,
then didst I realize, that cyber space had finally done its number on me
slither slather blither blather slobbering cyber chopper
knee-jerk hackneyed pavlovian dog speak of impetuous heartlessness
stereotyping label blasting categorizing pigeon-holing generalizing
multi tasking bifurcating bloviating palaver, ever clingy maudlin inflamed impassioned souls
trolling the myriad disparate windows looking for some misbegotten stimulus
so invested in their hatred and fear that peace is the most threatening thing they can imagine ------ and me?
the sneering cynical maladroit among the masses of averageness and mediocrity...
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 9:34 PM UTC
This dream of consciousness will not end alarmingly,
though it leaves lines on Billo's face
smushed against pillows placed
strategically
The strategy?
To look tragically well put-together
to get her to lie in the bed I made hastily
Well - I say this, but the presentation's done tastefully:
Big blanket tucked
IN with style
OUT of luck since I've not been...
...touched in a while
I grinningly smile - it'll all be ok
(I'm not much for physical lovin' anyway)
...beyond hugging and kissing and getting to stay
for the night curled up close whispering "sweetie, sleep tight"
I've not got these dreams, but I've some aspirations
No sweetie, I'm not sweaty,
- I've no *** persperation
My room is too cold with the wind's drafty laughter
My bed is too cold since I've not quite yet asked her
to lie with me and lie to me that she is the one
and I will be won over,
over-nighting done right
...
Left to the imagination, day-dreaming's my vision
Pigeon-holing my gamboling gambling rambling
Not quite in shambles, see?
I get it: regretting is letting me settle into misery
"Mysterio the (not-so) great" is dutifully bound to wait
Patience is love doctors' medication - "Just wait!" they prescribe
and in time their patients' trepidation will end.
Inner peace outer space and I pace.
(without her face to grin at)
synapse fired
for nodding off on the job
**** awake, up for work
Woken, spurred
on toward spoken word
March forwards - four words
Reverse reverie never hurt
"But I don't dream!" I think
Does it stop me from trying?
From lying to and by myself,
in doubt in a drought
Good - buy myself a drink:
rootbeer, two shots of espresso
let's go, caffeine-Billo tag team
on the rocks, off the clock
(talk about self-deprecation, why don't you)
Chew on the cubes with contextual frustration
The drink's gone, I think long and hard at long last
ARRRG I yell in a fit mentally I'll
sleep on it.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 4:35 PM UTC
I cried too much
but was it enough
I can't run
hiding the turth to all
I must be done
crying pain of blooding tears
the sickness I have
will never heal the scars
the discoloration of my life
will never show
depressed in my only feels
doleful face
that I try not
to have any motion
so long to being successful
strain to pains holing might
I will never win the fight
I cried so many tears through life
can't say sorrow will come
I can say no elated this will some
Cried enough, done
Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 1:56 PM UTC
curled lying prone and
humming hot, like a wire--
thrumming, like a thread
upon which water falls. I am aching
and oversensitive
holing a howl up inside me
and feeding it to my fears
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 4:19 AM UTC
Ladders and highs
And purples and crazies
Burning under the stars
Looking through the uneven stairs
Passing through open walls and
Broken windows
Hallowed and cut bleeding through
The darkened streets
Glowing into their skin
Death as a form of retreat
From their civilian madness
Holing into sewers and breathing waste
Hurting themselves on barbwire fences and needles
Digging holes into flesh and filling with temporary satiety
For those sleeping in alleys high and immobile
Choirs of phantoms and squirrels and birds
Greet with unremarkable pitch
Verse says the end has come
But is just unfolding
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 7:27 PM UTC
Dry luck
flakes fallow forehead.
(I’ve come for you.)
It promises, a hundred times, to grow
and recklessly rakes the earth.
My nails: long, pointed, poignant.
Digging into and in with my hands.
Crossing and holing XXO
(I love you but you’re lost.)
Jun 23, 2011
Jun 23, 2011 at 1:46 AM UTC
so many times I’ve stood alone
without friend or family
family or friend
although we’re all connected
like blocks in a Jenga tower
with fate’s choice pushing and pulling
after the collapse
we stand alone and rebuild
so many dictates in the re-invention
holing up for a while
caught up in ‘musts’ instead of ‘cans’
‘needs’ instead of ‘wants’
limited resources finding a new path
instead of creating one
the front door ajar
ideas breezing in coolness
a yellow porch light
illuminating the climbing tendrils
in my mind
manifesting the cosmos
with blue and red pizza boxes
brown rice and beans
tastes like chicken
communication holds many keys
but which one fits the lock?
so many unexpected turns
so many pieces in life’s puzzle
but I’m good at solving puzzles
every time I fall
I long for preparation H
to soothe my **** hurt
but sometimes when you think you’re drowning
you only need to stand up
and remember that you’re good
but that’s totally up to me
as it should be
although we’re all connected
we stand alone
we stand alone
although we’re all connected
so don’t leave me in my cave, baby
hit me back to the moon if you have to
hit me back to the moon
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC
There are chains and there are chains
Sometimes to bind, bound never to fly
Or to keep, stagnant in place
A soul, chained, forever staring
In to the empty of what might have been
An anchor, although a brace
Holding one to a point
A place, maybe in time
Or to a feeling, reoccurring
Reliving moments, hours or days
But an anchor is always a choice
Personal and a choice
Dropping an anchor in a life
In mine, her choice
Brings me to her sea
Turbulent seas, always a storm
Cloudy, heavy crying skies
For me, it's less obtrusive
To be what she needs, relies on
Holing her bow pointed in to the wave
Scary, it looms above: wall of water
To her, the most frightening feeling
Trusting another, Me, to hold her steady
While she works the rudder
The anchor is complete trust
Her on the rudder, me digging in
To weather the storm, the waves, the wind
Keeping us together
And trusting the chain
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
When you face a wrong sentence and have nothing to say;
Keep calm and go through it as you pray.
Worrying too much may get you tired and depressed;
So ensure you make out sometime to rest
Take courage and try holing your peace,
Stay focused and see what the day would bring
Don't strive with mortal men to prove a point;
as too much argument may get you annoyed.
Instead give comfort a place in you to hide
And joy in abundance would be on your side.
Take courage and try holing your peace,
Stay focused and see what the day would bring
If they call you worthless and say you are spoiled;
and you find no one close enough to employ
remember; every human effort and toil
ends you up six feet deep inside the soil.
Take courage and try holing your peace
Stay focused and see what the day would bring
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 10:07 AM UTC
They each hid the truth
Thinking letting it out would bring endless consequence
When the real pain came from holing it in
It weighed on their hearts, ate at and their conscious, crushed their spirits
A house of broken cowards
Each slowly suffocating
Dying from their self contained flames
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 2:43 PM UTC
Don't follow
Don't lead
Proceed
If you have never done something, do it.
Who's holding you back from the way you act?
Your Dad, Girlfriend, Boyfriend or Mother?
Uncle, Aunt, Sister or Brother?
Friends?
No, you are holing back.
All you do is talk about skills you lack.
If you took all your skills and put them in a stack,
It could get you to the moon, then back.
Stop bein so whack
Because you are human.
All you mean to do is learn and adapt.
So go back to your roots.
There's nothing wrong with that.
You'll realize your physical body is the trick in fact.
And that's scary at first, but for better or for worse
You shed the veil, the forgotten curse.
This is an event one cannot rehearse.
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 1:34 AM UTC
When I'm alone in my room
I write songs and poems
All about you baby!!!
Right from the center of my heart
I'm putting pen to paper
only to get my thoughts out,
But now I'm speaking and your listening
To my words
Victoria.
When I'm alone in my room
I fantasize about you & I holding each other close making love near the fire
But yeah It's a different story
with the same scene
Although I'm always reminiscing I can't believe that I've found you holing my heart at this moment
You got me hypnotize
And wanting your love
And that's no surprise you give me butterfly's.
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 9:35 AM UTC
My life
A meaningless nothing
Tired of the faking and the lies
My family torn apart, shredded
My grandma just a mere memory
Tired of holing it in
Holding it back
The tears well up as I lay in my bed
Wishing for death
Wanting to end the pain
The light burns, kills
Shows me no mercy
Wishing for my life to end
I've been betrayed, cheated
And lied to
By my love
My life
My only source of laughter
My only pain relief
The world is so cruel
The light eats at me
Inside and out
People ask, wonder, question
Why I am who I am
They look with judging eyes
Not seeing the real me hidden deep inside
The little girl I am
Colorful and joyful
Hidden dormant
Forced to come out and play
Contemplating...
Drugs, blades, bullets, rope?
So many to choose from
As I hold a razor prepared to cut
I think back to my days as a child
Life was so simple as a kid
Then I go numb again
No longer able to feel
I go black with the pain that I feel
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 3:51 AM UTC
11/24/2013
someone asked me
if I've ever been
in love
immediately,
I thought of you
I know that sounds
weird,
being since we
haven't even truly
met
maybe I'm not
in love with you
yet,
but I am
in love with the
idea of being
in love with you
I'm in love
with the idea
of every day
waking up next
to your smiling face
or maybe I'm
in love with
the idea of
kissing your nose,
or holing your
hand,
or making you smile,
every day,
for the rest of days
maybe I'm just
in love with
the idea of
calling you mine,
and saying your
name,
and leaving you
notes around the house
maybe I'm just
in love with
the idea of
tracing my fingers
down your spine,
and calling you
darling,
or dear,
or love,
or baby
maybe I'm just
in love with
the idea of
my fingers tangled
in your hair,
or my legs
intertwined with yours,
or my lips upon
your cheek
maybe I'm
in love with
the idea of
hearing you say
my name,
and feeling your
hand resting on
my shoulder,
and listening
to you talk,
for hours on end,
about yourself,
or your life,
or your dreams,
or your family,
anything,
as long as I
get to hear
your voice
maybe I'm
in love with
the idea of
going to sleep
in your arms,
and holding you
when you're sad,
and wiping your
tears away when
you cry
maybe I'm
in love with
the idea of
hearing you laugh,
or even hearing
your footsteps
down the hall
maybe I'm not
in love with you,
but I am
in love with *the
idea* of being
in love with you
© 2013 Scarlet Van Allen
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 3:43 AM UTC
IN the ghetto,time, and grime,don;t hold back, the years or tears, scream out, in the night,nobody hears,or cares, but,I 'm still holding on,there are fears,out here, nobody, has met, yet, I keep on holding, on, walking city,streets, praying that, death, won't get , to me, sooner, or later, I keep holding on, strangled, by the secret,wishes, inside, hoping the fake,dreams, of smoke, entering the bodies, I see, and each nose, don't **** off, the real dreams, that the ones, not on the pipe, being sought, *** being used, to sooth , the ache, lack away, people, being used, no escape, from the ghetto blues, so, I'm still, holding on, watching children, doubledouch, on sidewalk cracks,lots seeded, with tossed mattresses, junked cars, rotting garbage, stray dogs, dice thrown down, hoping to get lucky, and I keep holing on
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 8:35 AM UTC
I said come back, come back
back before the line is crossed
but you just stared your bare beam
blank in the face
I tried to take it in but I couldn't
not with you looking like that
holing it away
I never knew you to be a liar
so that's it then
the thought broke me but I think that was your aim
to make me feel as barren as your vacant face
as desolate as I left you that night
well congratulations
we're even
but I still feel small compared to your unearthly laugh
I feel it when I'm downtown locked away in a tiny apartment
choking on my gargled laugh to indulge a smart mans dull humor
how do you do that?
make your laugh like God?
he waits for a response that will never arrive
never teach me venom
I already feel it rolling through my veins
after your bite
no I find people to **** it back out
lips bleeding the life from me with every draw
so I can fall faint
so faint I can't remember your name and I can't remember
what
i
did
to
you
and I'm sorry
I guess that's all I'd say
if we were to meet again one day
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
"What is it you're really about anyway?"
Why?
Why is it you want to know?
Is it the words that flow off my tongue
Or my actions that have stirred up this need for clarity?
In your mind, do I require pigeon holing?
Why?
So you can sort through the assemblage of me
Keep what pleases you and throw the rest away?
How sad ... for us both
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 12:33 PM UTC
i watch you counting yourself out
courting little pets of body-parts
putting pennies on the trinket shelf
talking with wending wordage
about those gruff fellows
who've been pig-holing about your dwelling
that day you manage a back window
and escape
masquerade yourself as a gentleman
but they sniff at your aromas
these men in crude season
they circle you hinge-hipping
as you fleet the roads and fields
and evade into the dappling woods
"come on out we have you surrounded"
(you say they say)
you stay crossed legged a monk among trees
(these pleasing defenders)
you take off your dress and string it
from one of these trees
you dole yourself out
little pets for the undergrowth
you offer a curled shrew
from the space your kneecap once
occupied
you droop your warm left breast
and drop a beast from that cove
(a plump vole clambers fresh and
disorientated)
you plug one arm into loose soil
and the fingers snake root
separation at the elbow
and branches sprig out
both your thighs animate as fox cubs
your ***** leaves from between
and slinks under some ivy
your hair fiddles loose and travels off
in currents of breeze
before flitting into little finches
your back crumples with fungal looseness
your head weighs low
and the jaw lumps off
shuffling undecided on its form
your forehead bows to kiss the earth
and your face scatters a gaiety of insects and spores
all arts patterned about
your pile continues in this mattering manner
collapsing efficiently
you've canonized in nature
now you’re abroad mature and freed
to tell your friend this story
a spirit without brag of these neat powers
one with mother glory
May 13, 2025
May 13, 2025 at 3:39 PM UTC
It's that time
or
sometimes it's this time
but
one time at this or at that time
it'll be my time
the communion wine was drugged
the Methodist chapel was bugged
and the man on the 'rugged cross'
couldn't give a toss about me.
Bobby robbed the offertory
so
no hope or hymns for him.
Death has possibilities
not meant to be
but definitely
true.
The boys in blue caught Bobby
threw him in the clink
***** *****
went the coins as they rattled
in his pockets which were as deep
as the hole he was in
and still no hymn for him.
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 5:30 AM UTC
more often than not lately I've found myself identifying with a dying heart. still beating. still functioning. living... barely.. but with an end in sight.
my feelings towards everything lately have been like a loaded gun. not necessarily going to cause harm, but ready to explode at the flick of a switch.
I've become so delicate, like a drop of rain on the edge of a steep roof. holding on, hardly, but on the verge of plummeting down at any second, just not quite ready to commit to holing on; or falling down to coexist with the moist heavy soil that lays below.
I used to think sadness could be beautiful or artistic, but this is neither. this is just ******* miserable.
i used to be so strong but now i am the polar opposite.
I can't have anyone take a shot at me without shattering, but I'm getting tired of picking up my mangled pieces, besides, they don't fit together quite the same anymore.
This fragile state i have found myself existing in has left cracks and dents in every facet of my being.
but somehow the light can't quite shine through my stain glass window.
the rain just drips through the cracks.
m.k.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
Every syllable a shock
reminder of genes
chimpanzeeed in error.
aberration of speech
worm-holing space,
frog-splashing time,
Homer not gone,
****** calls to battle
and the siren song.
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 4:24 AM UTC