"identifying" poems
dear chemistry,
you are a detective
you hold scientists
in an enchantment
of protons and neutrons
you dissect me
identifying the components
that allow me to waltz
across light and holy ground
while you are bound
to seek solace
in what my atoms
cannot give you
i cannot give you motion
or allow you speed past me
that is my task
my task is to entrance
philosophers in the "whys"
and "hows" of my force and energy
and i'm sorry that
you are bound to be prose
when you seek to be poetry
i'm sorry that if you were a musician
you'd have all the words
and i'd be the melody
we'd be the song
that could never meet
i'll meet you in between the horizons
when my masters
speak to yours
pondering on what allows
the why to occur and
how does the event happen
i'll meet you in between
question marks and white coats
i'll meet you in the next life
when maybe the future
will allow us to be trees
instead of branches
my arms will spread
to reach out to your matter
past the artifices
and your atoms will
race towards me
all force, energy and velocity
and i will ask the "whats" and "hows"
and maybe you will answer the why
and maybe the answer
will be a discovery
a phenomena of sentences
all questions already answered
always yours, physics
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 8:12 AM UTC
Identifying this domain, naming it life,
Thinking am I the main, just hiding in disguise,
Exploring the world gaining in size,
Singing endless stories to my side,
Working for the day when answer will become one,
Myriad possibilities are there to come,
Questioning is this the one or someone else has to hum,
The dreams becoming reality,
when life will be calling and acceptance will come.
All will fathom one and one will fathom all.
A journey will welcome a journey in rise.
One will start understanding the blunder,
And never will the veracity of a dream be in plunder,
A proliferating uncovering will arise,
And Sapiens will ask Is this world suffice?
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 12:55 PM UTC
The first comment
I received
a **** you"
with a smiley face
I laughed off
wouldn't you?
Kind of crazy
kind of creepy
put it away as some one
we all know.
The second comment
came
with the usual language refrain
I was a "hack"
my words were "dreck".
The disparaging words about
my dead mother
gave me pause to reflect.
The third comment and more
began to recall
information of past
faux pas
secret affairs
one or two personal pecadillos
never mentioned beyond
the
dialogues in my mind.
Embarrassing I know.
I, of course,
went to the home page
to see
if it was someone
known to me.
No identifying data
but a picture I remembered vaguely
from a past I didn't know.
The trolling continued
relentless I would say
pulled the plug
put up a block
but
wouldn't you know
The comments continued
to come into my dreams
brutal criticism
of
every move I made
the day finally arrived
when I realized
Alter personalities were shedding off of me
like
psychological psoriasis
They were
hitting the ground running
I was
finding poems
I didn't remember writing
clothes I never bought
People kept hugging me
I had never met before
they
knew me far to well
called me many names
none of which were mine.
The silence of my nights were broken
when I found myself
in my car on Highway 101
returning from where I did not know
with a smile on my face
illegal drugs in my pocket.
How did I get here?
How did we get there?
Where are we now?
Another account opened
on Hello Poetry
with an anagram of my name.
I find my days
getting shorter and shorter
it became clear
I had become the dream
The others
had become me.
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC
To let go of the struggle and strife
I wish to spend the rest of my life
Going into the woods
Escaping falsehoods
Dancing in the rains
Freeing myself from all the chains
Watching blue skies
Catching fireflies
Playing with rays of sunlight
Counting stars in the midnight
Admiring the nature
Identifying it as my teacher
To let go of the struggle and strife
I wish to spend the rest of my life
Going into the woods
Escaping falsehoods
Pain is the only thing which is real
It’s hard to find all my wishes are virtual
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 10:28 AM UTC
/
Many days
I do not read any newspaper
Even do not see television
At all
Many days have gone
After You
I do not read any poetry
How to feel that since this morning!
Repeatedly hear identifying tunes on the air
Your arrival in the sky,
The air reverberates
Looks like another day
In the Paradise,
In another song,
Which brings the soul
The Aroma
Everyone is coming out
From all sides
Young Old
Babies Boys
Women Men
Everyone
Everyone is clapping
Singing the song of the same tune
This song is not the song of Rain
Not even a lamentation
The Southern breeze whispering your words
Slowly Said,
The Little Tailor Bird
No, No,
Not such a summer afternoon
Not even a hurricane warning
Each of the human eye
Follow the Eastern Sky
Tireless Eye
Watching the sun,
The Red Sun,
You went to bring dreams for us
From the Sun
Hundreds of thousands of people
In his next question
Hand with Flower
Shoulder to Shoulder
Today will be the day of strangers,
The poet will come
We are standing in the flowers
Fist full of dreams to take
Float in the sky with white clouds
My dreams are calling again
Today is not such an Autumn
But Still feel like an Autumn
Indeed,
The poet will come,
A poem in the New
Where each word will be spoken dream
Love to be evacuated
Poems that will repay
The debt to my Ancestor
Take revenge on thee
For their injustice,
Torture
Poems that would bring the stars
For our next generation
A poem that would bring the red rose for my darling,
Would bring such a smile to my mother's face
As Moon that smile
And that is simply killed false dreams
Will we ever Released
Sing Freedom Songs
The Poet,
My beloved Poet
You will come,
Will surely come
And will recite your immortal poem
/
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
My:
Belonging to or being associated with the speaker
Love:
An intense feeling of romance or ****** attraction towards an object.
Of:
Expressing the relationship between a part and a whole
Life:
A condition that distinguishes the active and self-sustaining.
Is:
Exist
Defined:
To state or describe the exact nature of an object
By:
Identifying the agent performing the action
Moments:
A very brief measure of time.
Of:
Expressing the relationship between a part and a whole
Happiness:
A state of being characterized by emotions ranging from contentment to intense joy.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 1:15 AM UTC
I sit
Helping my mom
Sticking stickers on various ribbons
I look back on today's swim meet.
During freestyle, I was put in a heat only with a girl who hardly knew the stroke
I touched the wall over five seconds before her, scoring a new high score for my freestyle time; 42 89, which is 42 seconds and 89 milliseconds.
Next, I had backstroke to do with a friend of mine a lane over
Although I was placed for success, I barely came in last for my heat.
Then, all I had to do was read.
Pretties, by Scott Westerfield sat open in my hand, with me absorbing all of the words as if I wrote them myself
Tally was watching her former friend Shay become a monster. Nice story.
After awhile, I started helping my mom put identifying stickers on ribbons.
How lovely
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC
%%
It’s about leveraging potential income
to enhance output-maximizing sustainability …
It’s about de-funding unsustainable income outcomes.
It’s about results-based data-enhanced paradigm shifts.
It’s about demobilizing upward mobility:
dis-empowering gentrification
by underfunding the over-entitled.
It’s about de-funding unsustainability
until the immeasurable metric is globally assimilated.
It’s about the designated data-driver.
It’s about memes as theme schemes.
It’s about complicating competence
through collaboration in collusion –
intentionally replicating re-branding –
effectively identifying best practices of the best-dressed actresses
until the girl in the t-shirt says “meh”.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 7:03 PM UTC
#
*The killer
came crashing down
smashing, thrashing through.
What is tender's tender
so for itself, to do?
--As it runs
right over the top of her..
This taker.
This killer.
In the black,
now in between;
so lightless and thick..
blotting out all screams.
There is an annihilation here.
A void.
A terror.
To stay, means certain death
but to leave
also means certain death
So the d is m e m b e r men t begins
as she is ripped, completely into half
And those halves, into half..
.. into half
--into half..
into half.
And still it tears.. rips.. shreds--
Until all, in between
is nothing but black.
A black it can now pretend to fill
with all of its empty promises..
and all of its counterfeit, everything.
..And then-- just up and leaves
once it is fully satiated.*
***And for a while..
the black had something.***
*Clinging to the rocky crags
on either side of the unlit valley
are now the pieces of her--
war-torn and shuddering.
Terrified
Of the black, black empty.
Of what is now fully
and completely dark.
~ ~ ~ ~
Timmy ain't real tall
but look at his stature,
as his majestic strings dialogue
the introduction.
And Warren's gotten so fat
See him now, looking so dearly, back
at his half-pint of Chunky Monkey--
picking it back up, for the fourth time..
scraping... scraping.. scraping..
But watch his eyes light up
as Timmy looks up--
over the top
of those wild-man RayBans
And with a gentle nod, it all begins..
-- as our Warren now digs deep
into his Gibson's beautifully-wanton ways..
identifying.
clarifying.
Rectifying.
Clarence, the Magician..
Stephan-- Humble, Unparalleled
And Dave's so chill
he's part Creole.. I just know it.
So great a cloud of witness:
surrounding you, my beautiful..
coaxing you.
Identifying it all for you.*
#
Mar 10, 2022
Mar 10, 2022 at 12:01 AM UTC
they are old friends of mine
self doubt, self hatred, self destruction
their black gaping eyes
look at me knowingly
their bodies vibrate and pulse like anxiety
blood pours from their mouths when they speak
they whisper quietly that I'll never be good enough
I can't make myself happy, they remind me
how could I ever make anyone else happy?
they smile and show sets of teeth between red
entering uninvited, late at night
screaming obscenities and mocking me
demanding my time and energy
reminding me of all my shortcomings and failures
moments in my life that I was not enough (or too much)
and every moment coming, with premonition
I seat them into my home
though my consent has never been a requirement
they drip and ooze into the carpet
leaving thickened black sludge
and back handed compliments
identifying my worth based on shouldn'ts and didn'ts
welcome, I tell them
though I don't want them here
stay as long as you need to
I barely mouth the sounds of a silent cry
they expand and fill the room
until I can no longer breathe and they crush me
underneath their weight, and remind me I did this
to myself -- I welcomed them in, after all
I created them, I brought them here, and they are
mine
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 5:27 PM UTC
Eat, drink - and savour body
It burns - and freshly blushing
Of ankles, knees - the jutting crags
Eat, drink - get lost - in moaning
Of own thoughts - heads' fog
Is rooted deep in groin
Eat, drink - yell over famine
With belt and taunt
Draw tight the ego's thirst
For thinking - shame yourself
For narrative of truth - give up
And joyfully accept
The informational injection
Comparison, identifying, drama
"I believe!" - a dream forgotten
Neglected honour - recognizing game
Unheard is role - a viewer
Yet - to the wall of lies - another burst
"Why do you peel own skin away?!"
Waste life attire
Save in affliction - reason
When silence in the head
Shrieks - "Jump! Take step! Put hanging!"
Just watch - and call for an encore
Applaud - from stage - from audience
Out of theatre - "Louder! Louder!"
With tears - splutter
Sep 2, 2025
Sep 2, 2025 at 11:34 AM UTC
In the company of familiar strangers,
The type you know like a ranger,
Or that with the spirit of a teenager,
Not knowing or completely identifying,
But still ****** with through consequence and conceptualizing.
Though some take the form of friendly faces,
Others take form like that of a nightmare that makes you walk in paces,
Reminding you of the turmoil inside your mind,
The fight between your perception and what you find,
What you see in the mirror and what you hide behind,
Finding the faces chase you with ideas they do not underpine
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 5:54 PM UTC
The privacy of a bathroom stall and
And two roommates
A triple by any other name
so closely identifying with
the toothpaste **** in
the sink
its like a skin, you know
the grime
it keeps things warm
but the conclusion, forever missing
the ever elusive reason why
(akin to opening a door to an empty room)
is mysteriously absent
the room is empty and I can throw my head against the wall with abandon
sighing, of course
to the ever present accompaniment
of fallen beauty products on a
gross tile floor slick with intentions
the room is occupied and I lift my head from the wall with cautious precision
these walls are thin and I hear
the meaningless sounds of people going about their day
the trite sound of a dropping book
or a sweatshirt being unzipped
the room is empty again, and will be for a while, and the poster behind my shoulder curls in protest as I shift my shoulders to think better
Feb 5, 2012
Feb 5, 2012 at 12:14 PM UTC
In retrospect,
dredging up past events
that led to the here and now.
Pending course of actions in which to exact...
Reaching as far back as the mind would allow.
In retrospect,
studying the reflection
in the rear view mirror,
as the present freezes itself intact.
Sifting through past images...
Second by second,
frame by frame.
Identifying overlooked pitfalls
and margin of errors.
In retrospect,
straddling the realm...
Where my current state of mind
lapses into a minute-long sleep.
Sights on the future... Folded blind,
discerning the treachery
of impulsive thoughts and actions.
Diving up from oceans deep,
painting the backdrop beyond paths at
unmarked junctions.
In retrospect,
every detail deconstructed...
Deliberated against the yardstick
of what's done and the supposed.
Refracted memories snap back clean into place.
Over and over...
Layer upon layer...
Time and again forming
the looming weight
that pulls me to a stumble
into the stagnant puddle...
Of long gone days.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 10:10 AM UTC
Ego Eccentric, Collective hysteria
A mind of madness,Compassionately cruel
Do or die
Black or white
Comprised carefully of duality
We are presented a human life
The thinker thinks but will never know
Think as much as you can
As much as you'd like
Ahh a thinker,
For he is one far and few between
He cringes at the tabloids
Glamorized ****** flashes
upon the big screens
Fear mothered slave state
Is where he sighs home
A pattern to repeat
An average man's prison
One of which
He's carefully constructed himself
Barring his own windows
Processing his own food
And his own paperwork
Jail keeper sounds
The morning alarm
"Wake your body!"
Mind stays in slumber
"It's time to make money"
Yet no real wealth
Another day on repeat
Constructing his "self"
Identifying carefully
With devised roles.
The play begins
"Curtain call!"
"Places everyone!"
The lights dim
Going back to pretending again
-KaitValentine
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 2:33 AM UTC
From: Richard Riddle
using: "nicy stephanie" or "rita derrick"
THE INFO BELOW STILL APPLIES---DO NOT RESPOND!!
ALERT !!
You may already be aware of a message currently showing up in the HP message boxes from a female(supposedly) identifying herself only as "Miss Stephanie". She states that she saw/read your profile and is interested you, and has something important to tell you. She asks that you reply with YOUR email, then gives an email address supposedly belonging to her. No other information is given.
DO NOT REPLY!!
She will post two, or more poems, probably in an effort to gain trust and establish credibility. She may even mention the on-going situation with Boko Haram, or some other conflict. THIS IS A SCAM!! Once your email falls into the wrong hands, there are untold numbers of consequences.DELETE it immediately, then BLOCK IT.
Please pass this on!
Thanks,
Richard Riddle
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC
There are no inherent flaws in things,
only traits which are repressed, oppressed and desired to be controlled.
Misinterpreted. Misunderstood. Misrepresented. Neglected.
Acted upon in haste and ignorance, or not at all.
This is the origin of the idea of a "flaw":
Traits are character.
Identifying characteristics.
Opportunities for development.
For growth; for learning.
"Flaws" stem from our attitudes of these opportunities.
Wabi and Sabi
are not presence of flaws;
they are presence of character
of uniqueness;
Flaws are a state of Mind.
Jul 26, 2012
Jul 26, 2012 at 3:53 AM UTC
I've been searching for the source of these emotions
Because jealousy and other things
Are typically a result of your own perceptions
And it took me awhile to figure it out
I lost some blood along this unknown path
But then I came upon the answers
Because of something my best friend said
And now it all makes sense
I have always had a problem
With investing too much of myself into love
I begin identifying too strongly with the relationship
And any roadblocks feel as though
My entire universe is crashing before me
And looking at this one here
I've done the exact same thing
When we were first together
I told you I needed to continue working on myself
In order to avoid giving you all of my energy
And as soon as I stopped doing that
I fell into old habits
So it makes sense why I feel entirely crazy these days
Why I can consciously recognize that
You having another partner isn't the end of my world
Because you still love me
And I love you undyingly
Yet I still had overwhelming negative cognitions
That made me feel like dying
And now I realize that
In order to deal with these feelings
I have to focus on me again
Recognize that I need to improve myself
For myself
And then this will get easier
Thankfully it already has
Because I love you so much more
When I'm taking care of myself
Because instead of feeling like I have
No real choice but to stay
It now feels like a beautiful privilege
And it truly is
Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 5:58 AM UTC
“Nice ***
It might be obscene to begin a poem
with *****
the way strangers in the sidewalk
begin conversations with Anatomy
or Algebra when they ask
for an exchange of numbers
like old friends meeting at the subway
on a hot Sunday afternoon.
Quit Science
when the only thing you know
is to scrutinize a woman’s body,
identifying which parts would satisfy
your carnal desires.
When I was nine
and the curves in my body
were not yet defined,
when *** was just a word
I read on forms we used to fill to know
if one is male or female,
I happened to pass by a group of boys
who laughed at the top of their lungs
over a bottle of *****
after one of them remarked something
about my “flower”
when I wasn’t even holding one.
I did not fully understand what they meant
but then and there I felt fear,
then and there I learned
that a flower’s not a flower in the context of
profanity
how they grinned as they
masked their grim faces
with laughters and remarks
like predators lurking in the shadows
of their sisters, wives, and daughters.
Looking back
and thinking how I was violated
the first time when I was nine
and my curves were not yet defined,
I laughed because twelve years later here I am,
still replaying inside my head
the voices of men who acted
as if they own my body,
who decided to steal from me
what is only mine to give
as they wait for another prey
to caress their whiskers in the sidewalk.
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 7:19 PM UTC
"you’re so cute! why are you single?"
because my crippling expectations of romantic relationships
are consistently juxtaposed to the disappointment of swiping left
or right, double tapping, it’s a match!
and hoping to find a sharp needle in this **** of a haystack
only to find a blunt object blubbering
"are you masculine?"
because the chunk of flesh dangling between my thighs
or the beard on my chin
or the hair on my chest
isn’t an obvious dictation of
my status as identifying male,
because “masculinity” has now been decided by the masses
to be left to the chiseled neanderthals laden with testosterone
too doped up on their post-workout endorphins
to do anything about the internalized misogyny
that costs lives on the daily.
i used to piece together outfits like puzzles
hoping that when it’s solved, maybe,
possibly,
on the off chance “you’ve” nothing better to look at,
"you" might notice me.
because i was raised in a society that taught me
looking good would get “your” attention
so you might want to open up the box
and begin piecing together the real puzzle of why we
treat our brothers and sisters like **** for
not conforming to your black and white box of
"masculine" expectations
"you’re so cute! why are you single?"
because i will continue to express myself as i see fit.
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 1:25 AM UTC