"imaginable" poems
Anxiety is not stress.
Anxiety is not some umbrella term you can use to describe how you feel when your favorite character in a book is in an intense battle unless you can somehow feel how fast their heart is beating until you can feel how hot their blood is until you can feel what it’s like to be that character in that situation the weight of the world on your shoulders
Anxiety is not finding lighting candles to be the only solution, candles are another problem. Another long paragraph to your list of “Things That Can Easily **** Me” example: “I didn’t leave any matches out, did I? I blew out the candle right? I need to check. Do I smell burning?? PUT THE CAP WHEN IT’S DONE! Will set off my fire alarm? Does my fire alarm work? Where’s my fire alarm??? Where’s somewhere I can put it so it doesn’t hurt me. THIS IS OK THIS IS NORMAL THIS IS RELAXATION.”
Anxiety is not stress.
Anxiety is horrible flashing images, constant reminders, the most negative form of “what if” imaginable.
Anxiety is wasting all your time thinking about an 8 page paper due for class in a week but instead of bringing yourself to writing it you are sobbing on the floor thinking of how bad for your grade this will be.
Anxiety is having a crush on a girl and trying out makeup for the first time.
Anxiety is having a crush on a guy and wondering if your sense of humor is funny enough.
Anxiety is not stress.
Anxiety is downloading an app that checks on your health and leaves you wondering how long this has been going on for.
Anxiety is wondering how to fix your eating disorder instead of actually fixing it
Anxiety is outing yourself to fit in
Anxiety is always wearing pants because you’re too afraid of your own scars
Anxiety is staying up countless nights crying crying crying you cannot yell your thoughts are no longer your own
Anxiety is writing a list of pros and cons to killing yourself
Anxiety is lighting a candle so you can slowly burn the list because
Anxiety is telling you if someone finds out, you will die.
Anxiety is not stress.
Anxiety is having making a friend and losing them in less than a year
Anxiety is wondering if all this help is helping or do I need to help myself
Anxiety is your friends questioning you non-stop are they really questioning you or do you question yourself?
Anxiety is memorizing the suicide prevention hotline
Anxiety is beating yourself up countless times “How could you forget something as simple as a Birthday?!”
Anxiety is “I only have three friends and one hates me, one I’m trying not to lose, and the other I love too much to tell the truth”
Anxiety is “It’s only a matter of time before we all die!”
Anxiety is “Congratulations! Two of your friends have died this year alone! One ******* hates you! Oh! HAHA! Wait! They all ******* hate you!”
Anxiety can turn you from “Wow. I look kinda good today.” to ”DYSPHORIA! DYSPHORIA! DYSPHORIA!”
JUST ******* KIDDING!
ANXIETY IS STRESS!
AND MUCH
MUCH
MORE!!!!!!!!
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 3:50 PM UTC
my naked lady framed
in twilight is an accident
whose niceness betters easily the intent
of genius—
painting wholly feels ashamed
before this music,and poetry cannot
go near because perfectly fearful.
meanwhile these speak her wonderful
But i(having in my arms caught
the picture)hurry it slowly
to my mouth,taste the accurate demure
ferocious
rhythm of
precise
laziness. Eat the price
of an imaginable gesture
exact warm unholy
20.7k
Please, close the door, and lock it shut
These feelings are the death of me
Unbearable sadness coupled with undying rage
Drives me sane, woke up in the hospital with a cold sweat.
All alone. alone with my thoughts, I cannot sleep
So I stare at the white ceiling thinking of you,
Wondering what I could of done to deserve this.
I tried to be a good friend, I know sometimes it doesn't seem like it,
I am full of love, but I don't know who to love.
Opening up to you took more effort than imaginable,
you take it for granted, but that's okay.
Use and abuse me I'll take the abuse.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC
A man
May want what he can't have
His heart may lack
What he desires the most
His smile may hide
His longing or feeling
But it is sin,
They say
So he will hide it all
For society
And pretend to be
"One of us"
Yet inside
He is different
In possibly
The most terrifying way imaginable
Let him have what he desires
For we are sinners too
If you don't think it's natural
Please open your eyes
Look outside and see the women
With their legs spread wide open
At one point that would have been "wrong"
But that changes
It all changes
So your mind should too
And accept it
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 6:25 PM UTC
My innocence is gone
I am alone...but not broken.
I was thrown into the darkest place imaginable
when you betrayed me.
At first I was empty...
but you leaving has given me a second chance at the happiness i deserve.
I am alive again
and I am stronger than before.
I don't have to pretend anymore
or be afraid of what you think.
I am better off without you,
though it took long enough for me to realize it
The dawn of my life is here,
and I am happy again.....
I finally have a choice.
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 11:21 AM UTC
to establish an initiative
for protection of gentleness?
follow the patterns of what does call joy in buddhism?
joy is always innocent
I follow your footsteps
through the dark tunnel
in the shimmering light
and wonder what a courage
you bring towards any jeopardy
which hunts you, my queer peer, behind any conner
in this fallocentric world
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 3:37 PM UTC
When you fall out of love,
your soul drowns
into a bath of suffocation.
It wanders, lost in a realm
of pain and heartache, worse
than any imaginable nightmare.
It questions its worth,
in life, in reality...
Some say it's a
temporary wound
that heals with
time and experience.
As the saying goes...
"You have to go through the bad to get
to the good."
... how ambiguous.
How long will I have to wait?
Will there be any good?
How do I know this is true?
It's not.
This is a stab wound.
Although it will heal.
The scar tissue will
always remain,
leaving behind
unforgettable moments
in time that cannot be
changed or
replaced.
I gave those
moments to you.
I gave my heart to you.
I even let myself love you.
You were safe
and you made my soul
feel beautiful.
You made me feel as
though nothing in
the world could take me down...
A ball of confidence I was...
But most importantly...
I felt happy.
Why would you...
want me to feel any other way?
You said you loved me.
And I guess,
the hardest thing
to come to
terms with is...
it meant nothing to you.
It was just a passage of time,
a short distance.
But, I did learn something.
I will never again
fall in love
until I'm ready to fall out of love.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
No country’s history makes us proud.
It is mere exploitation and colonization.
the poor were suppressed and oppressed.
The rich reveled in utmost luxury
And the weak lived in extreme penury.
The kings were fond of eulogy
And the poets excelled themselves in their elegy.
In the countries like India, the money was looted
the temples were plundered, and the system was blundered
And her progress was greatly hindered
Slowly the kings and kingdoms vanished
the so called democracies and socialism flourished
the bureaucracy and plutocracy replaced autocracy
Corruption and criminality maintained their status quo
After Independence, a new class emerged in India.
They became the rulers in the name of democracy.
There have been un-imaginable scandals
Money reached the Swiss bank like pearls in the ocean
India is a poor country but the Indians are rich
Mar 10, 2011
Mar 10, 2011 at 3:59 AM UTC
you
deserve
better
than what you've been accepting.
than all that you have chased.
than every.single.tear
that has fallen out of
place
when you realize that every lie,
was never worth your time
you can sell your watches
you have too many, anyways
one day, you will look into the sky
it won't be dark,
you will walk outside
the light you see-- will not be from the moon,
the shadows that surround you-- will not be those of demons
pulling you to down to Hades:
your blanket will not be misery
but
you won't simply wake up, alleviated by fate
you will have to fight
wars against yourself-- the worst kind imaginable
you
are up against the odds of giants
not even a troll-- would attempt to cross the bridges that you must build
but you can do it
you must learn to live with a shield in your hand
and a bow on your back
and eventually
one day,
you will look into the sky
it will be white and pure
you will walk outside
the light you see-- will be that of the sun's glow
the shadows of the tress will dance in your presence
persuading you to climb their swaying branches
lifting you towards the high heavens
flowers will float into your hair
yet slowly someone will approach
carrying a diamond-laced, gold ring, inside a crafted, red-silk box
in awe, you will notice his glowing amber eyes
then his face
you will see, is painted with delicate metallics alluring metallics
but you won't be swayed, for there is fire in his eyes
slowly you will reach towards the box
you've spotted the disguise
with the shield you have gathered; bow is in hand
untamed-- you are savage
unfazed by the lures of man
ferocious-- savage
he is not what you desire, rather lust
but you will walk across the bridge you've built--
based upon trust
away you will go, from all that harms
as you come to see the light
not a soul will tempt you away
for
you
are
savage
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 8:49 PM UTC
It's not usual for me to be writing a poem this early
But since I can't sleep yet and my soul seemed empty
Here I am typing the words that came out eagerly
The concept that was pushed out of bravery
I lost my Sunshine and so darkness evaded
Ate my emotion and in Heaven I was rejected
On Earth I stayed trapped, bruised, and depleted
Away from the jewels all my life I have venerated
Pain is inevitable but at the same time curable
To a heart that is wounded, aftermath is memorable
Recovering from the incident is somewhat imaginable
Though at times it may seem unfathomable
It's hard to understand when your mind is shut
And the only thing that's open is your mouth and a "but"
A hint to a conversation is all but a gut
To start things through from where they should start
I would like to apologize to those I've caused hurt
With those words I've uttered and hearts I may have burnt
An instance wherein I lose control of my emotion
Such a lame and deep sign of depression
Before I end this short release
I thank thee for the glimpse
Writing this gave me peace
And hope it did give you ease
May 2, 2011
May 2, 2011 at 8:43 PM UTC
my mind is going crazy,can't stop thinking.words, phrases, sentences, thoughts, running threw my head. can't stop, my mind won't stop, life ***** work ***** bills **** only stable thing is my life is crumbling,my empire wrecked. trains colliding, airplanes crashing, how do i stop this, how? it hurts, literally having chest pains, mind racing, heart beat pulsing, most excruciating pain imaginable to mankind...heartbreak.wheres my parachute?i'm falling.
Feb 25, 2010
Feb 25, 2010 at 9:59 PM UTC
Sobriety.
Reality & Unrealistic Views.
Which One Do iPrefer and Chose?
Living in A Dream,
Make Believe Living. Rainbows and Sunshine, Butterflies
Just Your Own Happy imaginable Life You Create in Your mind.
iHate Sobriety, iHate The Real Things
i Hate the normal Feeling and
Dealing With ****
iHate Problems, Struggling, Misery
Not Being Happy
iLove To Consume, Experience
New Feelings Rather
Than Just One. I like tons,
Experimenting, Curiosity, Living In Different worlds..
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 1:32 AM UTC
I used to think they were harmless,
I was so naïve.
The variety in my house;
a never ending rainbow.
white ovals
multicolored capsules
muddy orange circles.
A plethora of every imaginable combination,
right at my fingertips.
Ive followed in my mother's footsteps
no matter how hard I tried to avoid it.
No longer innocent
I am tainted in sin
Shape doesn't worry me
size and color don't either
some went with headaches
some for concentration
some for depression
they couldn't ever make the suffering go away
it lingers within me
no matter how hard I try
to
rid
of
the
pain
I cry out
Why?
Oh god,
why?
Do you really
hate
me?
What is this
Hell
I live in?
I popped another;
I just couldn't resist the
bittersweet taste
the coating leaves in my mouth.
Swallowed it whole
no water
because
I am a pro.
Maybe a few.
3 more
then 5
only 1 more
well 2 couldn't hurt
Lost my count by now.
This time i'm not in pain
I just want the fog to cover me
and to once again not
feel
or
show
anything
Nothing
at all
For I go numb once again
as I swallow
another
pill
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
My sister is a beauty,
A photographer, an artist
And the best subject imaginable.
She is the main attraction of my coffee shop,
She’s the mainstay of Main Street.
Unlike every other woman I know,
She only carries her camera and her dignity.
And the gaze of a mirror;
Her plaid shirt, oversized even when it was mine.
A pair of tights earning their title
And sky-high leather boots, a rocker’s staple.
A cheesy beret, our mother’s bracelet.
Blonde locks like there are teardrops on her guitar.
And to complete the classic ensemble, Satan’s prized pearls:
The Cheshire Cat smile.
All tucked behind her expensive-as-hell camera.
And her phone, case with white box and black bow.
Just like my baby sister,
A photograph with a black bow.
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 9:09 AM UTC
glowing waters, tranquil as though the ocean were holding its breath
and yet breathing in and out, in and out
rhythmic, an inexorable drum
an explosion of ripples as I drop the kayak in,
the disturbances swallowed by marsh grass, waving in protest
murmuring to be still, stay still.
I shift in my seat, heartbeat in my ears, loud breathing
scared of being swallowed, lost to depths where darkness clung –
yet hardly imaginable in this world of dripping sunlight.
dip the paddle in, tasting the waters
right, left, right, left
cautious, careful, clumsy at first
splashes of droplets as I pick up the pace,
salt on my tongue, tasting the burn.
the pull and tug of muscle against the world, a silent war
the ocean protesting futilely, but
surrendering to the kayak with a creaking moan
as I shoot through the water like an arrow, splitting the curling, white-crested sea.
the wind picks at my braid and throws it to the past with a lingering sigh
my paddles cutting through that glossy mirror of cloud and sunshine
shards of brilliantly stained glass.
Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 10:38 PM UTC
you listen to what passes for the TV news
you read some
but not all
of social media views
you notice that
despite all internationalism
it‘s mostly old sensationalism
combined with more or less suggestive speculations about
how many people may have died in forest fires
to what imaginable depths the president aspires
whether the North Koreans have more rockets
despite the wonderful achievements
of the national superdealer
who of the leader‘s staff might be the next
to lose her job or his credentials
etc. etc.
in short
the world has mostly shrunk
to domestic politics and power games
plus a few places on the globe where
U.S. soldiers still are dying
in order to protect their country‘s interests
in oil, assorted mineral resources
or allies of political expedience
or a few thousand refugees from countries plagued
by persecution or dictators are
marching for weeks to claim asylum
in the home of the brave and the free
under the statue of liberty
only to discover that they are seen
as an invasion threatening
that blesséd city upon a hill
visions have grown smaller
more petty voices dominate the talk
a nation made of immigrants
faced with the poor who flee from their oppressors
decides to close its borders to the immigrants‘ next wave
oblivious of the times when they themselves
still searching for a better life
found a new place where they felt safe
led by the statue‘s torch that shone its light
upon a poet‘s words of welcome:
"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 11:36 AM UTC
There once was a father antelope
Who loved fruit salad
As well as his one and only
Antelope daughter.
One day
A young boy antelope
Came sauntering over
And took a liking to
The daughter.
So he asked the father antelope,
"May I marry your daughter?"
And father antelope said,
"No."
And oh the young boy antelope
Begged and
Begged and
Begged
The father for his daughter's
Hand in marriage.
But he refused.
But you see,
The daughter antelope
Loved the young boy antelope
And she wanted so badly to marry him.
So she made up her father's
Favorite dish,
A fruit salad
With all the fruits you could
Think of.
There was
Strawberries
And
Blueberries
And
Cantaloupe
And
Watermelon
And
Every
Single
Fruit.
She knew this was the way to her father's heart
So she brought it to him
That very day
And she said,
"Please oh please father.
Let me marry the young boy antelope."
And her father said,
"No."
And she
Begged and
Begged and
Begged
Him to let her marry him.
But all he would say was,
"No."
So she brought out her special weapon,
She showed him the salad made from
Every fruit imaginable,
Like
Strawberries
And
Blueberries
And
Cantaloupe
And
Watermelon
And
Every
Single
Fruit.
And she told him,
"If you will not let me marry him,
Then we will run away together
And get married far far away
Without your permission."
And the father looked deep into the fruit salad.
He looked long and hard.
He looked at the
Strawberries
And
Blueberries
And
Cantaloupe
And
Watermelon
And
Every
Single
Fruit.
And without looking up
Without breaking his gaze
With that lovely fruit salad
He said to her,
"No.
Antelope
Cantaloupe."
The end.
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 7:38 PM UTC
i can't believe i'm living out my life's
10 seconds of stupidity with
an un-payable debit account security
of future credit, loans, debt and moaning...
**** me double twice blind with a joker in hand...
of course i'm stupid, i got educated in
a world that pays you back with menial
labour, to look pretty... seriously,
don't do the stupidest thing imaginable and
get yourself a university degree, unless
you're a woman, that's fine, you'll get to
meet and voluntarily wet your ******
with the next president of Romania,
but we need idiot mechanics, and believe
me, i'd rather oil up car pistons like
stroking giraffe necks of Myanmar women....
from **** generals cited through to Epicurus' citation...
believe me, i wish i was smarter,
most of posthumous fame is a regard of
obstructive i.q.,
we were believed to not take offence at our
exposure to systematisation
which educated both thief and banker...
none of the two differ... both excusable buffers...
we trusted people... trust was our biggest idiotic remark...
and now the earth in spin... for endless maxims:
it's like that... and that's the way it is;
no wonder i end up watching serial killer
documentaries.
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 6:17 PM UTC
Every SunDay
I sat acRoss from him
watching as he mIndlessly grabbed
for his black pen
out of his flannel shirt pockeT
Every Sunday
we walkEd to the
corner stoRe Across the street
from our small
picket Fence and grabbed
a Sunday paper from
the bottoM of the Stack.
Every SundaY
He wore his glasSes
instead of his contacts.
"It gives me better brain function"
he said Every Sunday
Every SUnday
he asked me the strangest
questions imaginable.
"WHats a 4 letter word
for 'In times past'"
to which I would respond
"once might fit,"
or whatever tHe answer
could be.
Every Sunday
we became an
invinCible team
a word fighting Duo
Every SuNday
we defeated the
greatest villain to
newspapers everywhere
the NY Times
Crossword
every sunday
i fell in love
more and more
a never-ending crossword.
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 8:31 PM UTC
Embedded in ancient myths, each moment
of life one lives is out and out mysterious .
In the firmament at night, every star
that is winking at you is a memory
refracted to interstellar depths by
laden layers of light years.
Swimming in this lake of kaleidoscopic dreams
I encounter fish with every countenance,
imaginable; wishes all, from lives past, far and near,
some even aberrations from future
Sometimes during such
underwater explorations,
I see myself flying above
numerous planets,
dressed in transparent
dark nights or moonbeams
spun from wishful dreams.
In one of those trips
to the present,defying laws,
I see you, sitting there
frozen in time,
like a work chiseled in alabaster
all smiles,among your deer friends
all lovely does!
In a flash, magic carpet of time flies back
I remember you, our encounter unforgettable!
The wily tiger, in the guise of a lover, you
were getting closer to the deer, pure at heart
so naive to the guiles of the forest.
As you were about to spring at her
Your eyes, met her steady tranquil gaze,
that spoke of love and compassion, infinite.
Remember,you froze, as if by a spell,
struck by the force of nonviolence.
You are still there, even after avalanches
of million dense memories,
a tiger, all killer instincts frozen,
still trusted among the deer, your dear ones.
Now I can see your eyes zooming around
for the mystery to be revealed;
meeting that ancient deer again, for final resolution.
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 1:34 PM UTC
As you lay next to me I can’t help but think of you.
You lay sleeping, and I close my eyes and envision you taking me.
To the place that only the weight of your body on mine can bring.
Your hands moving across mine, light as feathers
Your breath on my neck, slowly become more rapid.
The look of love in your eyes,
A look you couldn’t hide with all the will power of your being.
I want to spin with you, lose control, devour the moment.
I crave to make you writhe, twitch, grasp the sheets,
To arc your head back and gasp for air.
Have you lose all barriers and be truly free.
As you lay sleeping, I envision reckless motion
Feelings words can not personify.
Anytime I look in the mirror I see the reality of myself
A reality once only could manifest, yet now is actuality.
My own image brings up feelings of imperfection,
A figure that I am not comfortable with,
Self-esteem that I can not seem to find with out you.
You are my world, my sun, my universe.
My every thought orbits around you
My mind races at the thought of you
Despite all the time that has elapsed
I long for you, I beg of you to wake up
To say balderdash to rest, REM, and energy
And expel it all unto me.
I want you to take all that I am; consume me.
Fore when we connect I am completed
As you lay sleeping, you toss and turn
Growing ever closer too me
Were your eyes open I could tell you
Tell you to take me in any way imaginable.
Not out of primeval hormones,
But for a cluster of fireworks in a darkened sky.
A lustrous swaying of beings that few experience in a lifetime,
But with you it is constant, predictable in a joyous sense.
I am broken, though the patches I’ve created hold to me well,
My mind can not help but regress to old patterns and vices.
At times I wonder if the feeling is mutual
If when we intertwine my experience is the same as yours.
Are there fireworks, or just the "great value" ****** any girl could give you.
Your love is undeniable, however, your anatomy has a satisfaction guaranteed
Though still I wonder about the fireworks
When your inside me do you feel flesh or do you feel alive - the most alive you’ve ever felt.
Does your mind forget, just for that moment, that anything else in the world exists
Just for that moment, are their fireworks?
Because my world changes in those heated moments
It is the only time I feel beautiful.
I worry that because I have changed I can not satisfy you.
Your former mates eclipse me,
You’ve been with those who are beautiful by textbook standards.
You’ve been intertwined with those who I feel I do not compare.
I want to make you feel the way you make me feel
I don’t want you to just *** I want you to have an ******
To feel that explosion of love and satisfaction.
I want to know that the fireworks are not duds.
Because, I would do anything to make you feel beautiful.
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 5:47 AM UTC
Sasha wakes me with a soft and slender touch.
Five long, black, fingernails,
Move sly and slow as sleepy snails,
Carving curvy pink ski-trails,
Down the middle of my back.
I want you…
She whispers lip to lip,
… to wake up and **** me right now,
And she tickles my ear with the tip of her tongue.
It’s these dreams, she murmurs,
Last night I was locked in a small room,
One window,
Distant noise from a street,
A king size bed with a clean red sheet,
Five men, alpha males of every age,
Soft talkers with rough hands,
Each had their way with me,
In every position, every act imaginable,
Sometimes two and three at a time,
My ecstasy was paced and deliberate
And seemed to go on for hours,
Despite every satisfaction,
I begged them to continue,
Insisted they use their mouths, hands, words,
My ****** was perpetual,
An endless spring tide,
Each swell higher than the last,
There was a moment I was sure
I would suffocate from pleasure.
Was I one of them, I asked, hoping I wasn't.
No but I felt you somewhere, watching, she sighed.
You need to take me now and quick, she said,
This is a rare opportunity,
A celestial arousal
Jesus, this ****** is from God, she said,
Bend me anyway you wish.
Recall every fantasy you have ever had.
Now is your time.
Lay on the mattress, I ordered,
Stomach down flat
Spread your legs,
Arms up above your head,
As if you are about to dive into the sea.
Grasp the sheet with your fingers.
I will enter you in one motion
You will feel only the *********** and my body weight
We will rut.
My knees will push you open,
My hands will find the center of you,
You will barely have to move.
I will come if you touch me
With any bare skin, she said,
And pushed the blankets to the floor.
I am possessed she confessed,
Turn me into anything you wish.
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 8:46 PM UTC