"impulsively" poems
He was the ocean; handsome, but yet, Impulsively damaged. He had a sandy heart to correspond his sandy eyes, the moon dismantled that omitted pride he carried at a dead weight; shoveling and reshaping it, so people would see a sandcastle statue assembled in strength. But his washed-up soul and unannounced insecurities were aware of its genuine purpose,
this beach alongside his pupils;
quicksand, he'll sink so slowly in. Waves in his hair like ripples on his cheeks, skipping stones land at his defeat, he left notes in bottles for you, sank multiple ships for you, because he hasn't the heart to say he's desiccating with the arrival of the stars.. Retracting scars are not too far from gasps for air, foaming words of crisis by writing in the sand, signaling a light as the last one in him died. You wouldn't understand, the calm before the storm, as valve after valve puncture him. So intoxicating as it drains him, and from within, he's drying out. Sunburns stain him, a smile restrains him,
in an inescapable drought--
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 4:32 PM UTC
She’s seen for what she wears
for what's beneath the fabric,
Nothing more, nothing less.
She can’t stop what's going to happen next,
But that's her fault.
It’s just a regular day for you and everyone else like you.
Just something to do and forget about later.
You can act impulsively,
But it's her and everyone else like her who has to live in fear about that.
Not you,
Nor the ones who make the rules.
The ones without a care in their minds about this are the ones who are in control of her decisions.
The ones who don’t need to think about what they wear,
Where they are,
Or who they’re with,
Are the ones making her think about them.
She’s living in handcuffs and its as if this is a mockery of her.
Are you just testing her to see if the handcuffs are secure?
That they’re fully locked?
Don’t worry.
They can’t come undone.
You won’t let them come undone.
And that's just how it works.
We need to hold your hand.
We need to follow you, the leader.
We need to change ourselves because it's our problem.
We are the scapegoats to the polluted minds of the animals in control of us.
It's our skin, our body,
That we will have to live the rest of our lives with.
But since it's our body, it's our fault.
Nov 14, 2019
Nov 14, 2019 at 11:36 PM UTC
Confidence feels scarce sometimes.
Most times.
But over the years,
I can tell that I've grown.
So thank you.
Thank you to the boy,
Who in eighth grade
Told me that my smile was beautiful.
Before that whenever I smiled,
Or even laughed,
I'd cover my mouth,
Or I'd hide my face.
But he asked me why.
I told him plainly I didn't like my smile,
But he told me it was beautiful.
Thank you to the girl
Who just last year
Told me my nose was unique and elegant,
Like sculpted marble.
My nose is, and always has been large,
But ever since,
I've been able to hold myself with poise,
At the mention of my nose.
Somewhat proud of its size.
Thank you to my friend,
Who told me last summer,
That my haircut was cute when it was down.
I had cut my hair impulsively,
It was shorter than it'd been in years.
I always wore it up,
I thought I looked dumb down.
But she told me my hair looked great on me.
I wore it down that night,
My friends complimented the look,
I've been able to notice the beauty in it since.
I have been built up by compliments.
I can see my own beauty easier now.
Selflove isn't always summoned purely internally,
Sometimes it takes a little help.
So thank you,
Thank you all so much.
Dec 21, 2018
Dec 21, 2018 at 9:08 PM UTC
I am still
In deep thought-
Wondering, how easy I’ve let you slipped
From my hands
And from my heart
--
Let’s take a step back
And recount the moments
Recollect the memories
Reminisce the good old days
And reassess this overnight decision I’ve impulsively taken
Let’s take a few more steps back
And remember the first time I met you
Back in high school
The first time I said hi
And thought you were cute
You were a plethora of my firsts
The first boy bestfriend I’ve ever had
The first boy to ever ask me out on dates
The first boy to talk to me on a daily basis
The first boy I ever liked…. Who actually liked me back
Undoubtedly,
You were my first love
I thought I loved you like I’d never love anyone else
I told you everything
Wrecked these walls I’ve sheltered from for so long
Just to hand you this little fragile heart of mine
Through the cracked linoleum and the broken glass windows
I gave you a golden ticket and an aerial view
To my world
And after two years,
In the end,
You did decide to return the favour
You trusted me enough
To let me enter this mystical world of yours
These two dimensions you seem to always get lost in
Those two roads diverged in a wood
That you can never seem to wrap your head around
and choose
As I write this,
I start to realise why and how I stopped loving you
I think I got tired
Of trying to pull you up
As you let yourself drown in the seas
of your undecided thoughts
I stopped loving you
The moment you say “I’m going to change”
But the next day you woke up
You put on the same old clothes
You took the same route
To the place that led you exactly back to where you once were
I got sick of
Saying the same things
Over and over again
Asking you to change
Only to expect nothing in return
Truth be told
As similar as we are as people
We live in worlds too distant apart
Your world is too foreign for me, too fast and scary
Whereas my world is too small and tightly guarded, all child’s play
As much as I’d want to love you
I can’t seem to do so
And if I could, I'd say this a million times to you
I truly am sorry.
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 9:55 AM UTC
This is the sign you’ve been looking for.
So live darling. Live reckless and brazen. Don’t you dare hide how you feel & never try to meet the set standards. Don’t think, just do. Forget how it’s ‘supposed’ to go, and all that could go wrong. Disregard all the illogical cause and effects Society determines. Ignore the 99% likely outcome and go after that 1% with everything you’ve got, kid. ‘Cause if something or someone makes you happy or gives you a sorta feeling you can’t explain, even if it’s just for a little while- ignore all the ‘advice’ & the whole doing the ‘right’ thing, and hold on to it till your lungs give out, regardless of what form you get it in. Here’s the truth darling; life’s too short for norms and logic. Too short to hide your feelings and god knows, way too short to spend even a second unhappy & restrained due to fear and the abstract ideas that things are meant to go a certain way. So if you love someone, scream it at the top of your lungs, and if you feel like crying, collapse and shatter. Live impulsively because there’s nothing purer than the desires of the heart.
-c.j.m
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 9:01 PM UTC
(this one is about a piece of cloth)
The said attire is not common wear
no suit and tie or gown
needing no further introductions
or additional instructions
Its layers are abstruse
It is of certain quality of tension
resembling clumsy bodies
trying to meet and greet each other
talk about belonging to someone
Reserved and refined
restricted they cannot rewind
Ornamental is what they are
And you
you are judgmental
Ready to look at the attire again?
One layer got lit by a precedent match
which led to an arson
you could not even start that
with the fire you drew up your leg
Everyone is promised to someone
who lives in another country,
and will break their heart
and turn them into a pillar of salt
for looking back to the tragedy
Forever drawn too impulsively to those
Daria is not supposed to look at
She touches them as often as possible
Only few times she's been able stop
Those times retain a repetitive pulse,
same in its essence but,
alternating on the patters and pace
I can see you are listening to me right now,
I should probably want that
Listening is a beautiful thing,
a blessing in disguise and
acting on the details of your acoustic research
is a physical translation of affection
Tell me that you are not unable to translate
I at least need to feel you again
Laugh at you even though our situation is dead serious
I scrutinize the piece of cloth for any signs of damage
You see I wouldn't want it to
get ripped off anytime soon
Although I'd gladly tear off
the rest of your clothes next time I see you
Apr 14, 2022
Apr 14, 2022 at 6:23 AM UTC
Casually caressing
the comedy of life
A child knows not
tragedy’s strife.
There is always another dream
toy or friend
for their fetal-esteem.
They spell their grammar
with candy and curiosity
while maintaining a history
in smile and laughter.
The heroism of Joe
the G.I.
and the beauty of a Barbie
are created impulsively and
fueled by imagination and apple juice.
A bike is not
a means of transportation
but rather
meant to be raced and jumped.
Scooby-Doo
and the ****** Tunes should
rule Saturday mornings
from their throne in the tube.
Monkey bars and playgrounds,
are not merely a facility
to upkeep physical activity.
Instead
it is a kingdom of escape
engineered by make-believe
funded by risk-taking
and motivated by the
eradication of the cootie-plagued
and ****** pickers.
Where did time go,
when these bones grew old
this brain grew dull
and these hands lost their callus?
The world is cruel
for the elder mind.
Yet, for our youthful kin,
Society does not exist
in coloring books
and world peace is only found
in imagination and apple juice.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 2:02 AM UTC
Once upon a Time there lived a peasant
whose poems were whisperings of nature.
Nature aims toward growth, abundance
and decays softly back to succulent soils.
My homeland is not for your feet to step
upon, you belong to surrealistic cynicism.
My psychedelia does not approve of horrors
mundi and skips on every third classical tune.
What was impulsively chosen, can be a mistake
in pompous rituals on established compilations.
Apologies, for all the misdeeds lacking a true
appearances. You implied my life is a great lie.
No, it's not! Sometimes it is a knotted charade,
noose chameleon dreams wanting to create in
Castles build upon puffy clouds, youthful Ars
Poetica meeting a Pat Metheney's wonderland.
Beck is a phenomenal artist loving green lands.
Bachus was a goat. And Artemis protects us all!
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 7:58 AM UTC
I know sometimes I’m a little obsessive
Some might call it bipolar depressive
Random mood swings causing me to become manic obsessive
Shifts in energy changes making me become impulsively energetic
Got my mind spinning around causing me a psychotic racing catatonic lack of awareness
So used to being told to calm down by my family and old therapist’s
Now I’m just living and learning off of my own failures and life lessons
Creating my own values and building towards a better impending prospective future with all these thoughts, ideas, different reasons and reactions
Moments of self worth can often start to feel fleeting due to daily life experiences and my own expressions
Followed by changes in feelings and mixed emotional ambivalence
Rarely opening up to people because, I feel vulnerable and misunderstood constantly stressing
But the few times I do is when something about them resonates with me making me feel calm, safe and accepted
I believe it’s because of my past trauma, I have to try everyday to be a soul survivor
Old coping mechanisms through past risky behaviors shattered recking havoc
Drugging and drinking to drown out these demons
In the depths of despair, my inner demon finds solace, a dangerous comfort I must avoid
Getting back up on my own two feet going to meetings after meeting
Late insomniac nights with thoughts never fully slowing down
Followed once again the next day I can’t seem to drown out all of the sounds
All these troubled thoughts restless I am
A soul survivor I fight, but I often find it hard to stand
Picking myself back up
I’m just a man searching for a way to feel human again
Oct 17, 2023
Oct 17, 2023 at 1:37 PM UTC
her words snap me back to reality,
away from supposition and hypotheticals,
into her arms where I feel safe.
blue eyes that pierce whatever darkness
i thought i had and lied to myself about,
eyes that see me for a who I am and who I want to be.
imagine walking down a darkened path,
content in the streetlights that guided
you home, and spotting something small
and kind. whatever it is you imagine,
it beckons you to hold it and when you do,
you smile, truly and impulsively.
that essence is a woman, and one i admire.
someone beatiful, kind, and funny,
including her incessant snoring on
already sleepless nights because a cat is begging for food but you feeling comfort
in their REM cycle. too little space
to be your own, but enough heart to bridge the gap.
imagine, then, that someone places
your hand on their lap when you drive,
but are equally willing to do the same,
in what feels like an equivalent exchange
of heart and sheer goofiness.
and tell yourself it doesn't feel right
that you were able to find home in them,
effortlessly and happily. you won't
and can't, and neither can i.
words can't express that she has been
friend, confidant, and a visual marvel,
and someone i envision as a pillar
of my bright existence.
Jul 14, 2023
Jul 14, 2023 at 9:25 PM UTC
i want to be as happy as a kid
you buy them ice cream, they are happy
you tell them stories, they are excited
you play a song, they are dancing
no weight on their action
no consideration
no purpose
they just did it impulsively
but then
maturity kills these simplicity
as the time goes by
more lessons learned
more experience earned
more stories witnessed
too many turning points
and it's tiring
i never thought that life can be this uncomfortable
ever
how can we feel it again?
this is a question the time can't answer
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
You told me to live each day like it's my last,
Never hold back,
Be dangerously impulsive.
As long as it kept me happy.
But you never told me I could lose things while doing so...
I was the Same as you,
Impulsive teenagers in love.
I kept you for a while,
But then you acted impulsively.
Things took a step back,
We were no longer we,
You and then there's me...
You kept living,
Kept happy.
I remained impulsive.
Heat of the moment,
Bleeding to death slowly .
No impulse there.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 2:38 PM UTC
*Let me court you and bend my pride,
Venting foolish passions,
Vowing with my heart,
Volleying pebbles to your window.
Do not forsake for my sake,
Say, you are the fickle Moon
And I'm a grumpy Narra tree,
That I'm the dizzied Sun and you—
A pirouetting world, that we are
Two islands of the Archipelago.
But never say, impulsively say,
That you are the shooting star,
The Perseids, a meteor shower,
For it is then, love,
That I would have become
The melancholy,
The Universe.*
© 2015 J.S.P.
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC
You feel like
a scratch-off lottery ticket
that I accidentally won;
received as a belated birthday gift,
or bought impulsively at a gas station near the thruway.
I don't think the powers that be
intended to send you to me
but lo and behold,
you’re the winner
that I’ve waited too long to discover.
Nov 28, 2019
Nov 28, 2019 at 1:24 AM UTC
We want answers,
And we want them now.
Generations scrolling down together, receiving
Informal lessons from sometimes qualified strangers,
Impulsively living, giving status updates,
Proudly showing the world pictures
Of all the places we’ve been -
Twittering to gain followers, digitally devoted,
But consistently losing the edge,
Heading back to Starbucks to refill.
Welcome to the 21st century,
Where life spills into the abstract,
And we consume with the click of a button.
You’re only a copy-and-paste away
From a satisfactory translation,
A GPS away from your next location,
One computer screen freeze
Away from total frustration.
Just ask a teacher, they know exactly
Where the future lies, somewhere
Between a child’s wandering eyes
And flippant commercials, there is
Utterly, complete concentration.
What’s the solution?
More time preparing
For entrance exams?
Creating more diverse
Lesson plans?
Either way, students will
Still quote Spongebob
And call you a square.
Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 1:39 AM UTC
A decision made impulsively
Sometimes ends repulsively
But sometimes ends perfectly
And eradicates conformity
Look just a little more you
(When in fact there's less of you)
They look again and say that's WHO?
Open up their world view
When they see that people can change
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 5:25 PM UTC
Copper and Tin conceive versatility
Cheeky hearts furiously forge
Russet eyes surveyed, swim
Through my silver stare
Impulsively Stubborn
Impatiently Steadfast
Generously Indulgent
Curiously Musical
In its alliance a revelation
Fresh Inspiration
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 12:25 PM UTC
You Egyptian hipstress
philosophically diggin’ through this
world to find a life to live with.
Your summer breeze
metaphorically testing & caressing me
--keep questioning
don’t ever stop, please,
trust me
it’s endearing
and steadfast.
Hearing your voice
my mind rejoices
synapses electrocute my brain
& the fire in your voice
rises, burning, pulsing
hypnotic sonar warming my
soul…
yet you’re impulsively young, still trying
to find the right air to breathe;
via singing artistic gypsy
dominating submissives
yet pondering above your
third eye
burning,
warming,
heating—vividly alive
within your eyes
is intriguing
yet deep down
your rising
embers pop!
Your body dances
sway—shaking—swaying
burning ancient questions
in the earth
but forgetting
what the fuse
is connected to….
find the fuse
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 9:47 PM UTC
It does not matter
if you know
there is no time for this
just- this is all you have
this:
one second.
As snow flurries fall-
the thick memory
of winter, reminds us
that life is the long breath and
every single moment is so precious
I make sure to throw each away-
individually,
carelessly crushing them underfoot
impulsively,
as the small boy does
stepping on flowers beside the beaten path.
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 10:54 AM UTC
empty beds and wrinkled sheets
are all i remember from that week
a pillow to support me
not much, only barely
and a blanket to keep me warm
with both arms outstretched
i cannot reach the edges
if i roll side to side
i'll never fall to unforgiving ground
i'll only ever be drifting over cotton sheets
the sun shines through linen curtains
casting shadows across a soft gentle face
i impulsively turn towards the light
which a smile tugging at the corner of my silent lips
i spend the day happy, laying in my empty bed
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 1:27 PM UTC
Small boy, running toward me by the gentle waves' edge.
Soon our opposite paths will gift a welcome passing;
I am running, jogging, barefoot too
but your 4? 5? years are more buoyant than mine.
Benevolent morning sun lights your blond hair flying
but you glow
with more than children's happiness,
more than that burst of an uncontainable sprint
that all babies with new feet gleefully rev-up like a brand new motorcycle.
Your running/flying sprint surprisingly does not slow.
You must be tapping into the other side,
from where you so recently arrived;
remembering your weightless spirit.
You recognize this paradise, don't you?
waves sent from past the horizon by the warm Pacific,
benign intention spilling out of the water, washing out onto golden sand,
revealing small frothy iridescent wings as peace takes flight,
dispersing into island breezes.
You are finally here,
releasing the silver thread behind,
between you and the tourist father with a camera.
Dad is dutifully following, jogging half-effort because he understands.
Like raising a baby wild mustang who must run-out, this is not chase.
When passing, I impulsively u-turn to run at your side,
wanting to share this contagious happiness.
I tilt my head, ask a playful wanna race?,
But I am already running to keep up with your bright half-sized person
miniature long strides in perfect form.
You look up over at me, I glimpse in your smiling eyes
your wise smile says you don't need boyish competition to fly like this.
I slow, and watch the back of this little boy still sprinting.
Your father runs by my shoulder, feet heavy in sand;
he shares the smile of a marathon.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 1:21 AM UTC
I am from a Saturday afternoon living room overflowing with the sounds of Fleetwood Mac, John Lennon and Bob Dylan.
I am from home cooked meals, roaring laughter at the dinner table and short tempered Italians.
I am from Frank Sinatra singalongs, Lifetime movies and swimming lessons from my Mimi.
I am from my Pop’s war stories, tomato picking and ***** jokes.
I am from the grandparents that didn’t want my dad and the grandparents that did.
I am from the stoic grandmother that wasn’t involved in my mom’s life and the deadbeat grandad that didn’t seem to exist.
I am from the ten years of Catholic school, plaid skirts and polo shirts.
I am from spoon-fed customs of Catholicism every day except (coincidentally) Sunday mornings.
I am from rose scented mornings because of regretted whiskey words from the night before.
I am from words muttered impulsively, apologizes not offered graciously and too many family nights turned into family fights.
I am from cigarette infused hugs, plastered smiles and “I’ll quit tomorrow”.
I am from twenty-six years of handholding, couch cuddling and kitchen dancing.
I am from goodnight kisses, chocolate chip cookies in my lunch and red heart emoji’s in a text.
I am from love and anger and happiness and remorse.
I am from memories in the making and a future unknown.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 2:09 PM UTC
Find a place where you can be yourself for the day or night.
A place where your mind doesn’t over thinks constantly
about whether things are going wrong or right.
Find a place that gets your topsy-turvy love life.
A place that reminds you, you are beautiful the way you are,
you don't have to go under a knife.
Find a place that soothes down all your worries.
A place that doesn’t bother how much money you’ve left in your account and asks you why settle down now, no hurries.
Find a place that lets you live life innocently.
A place where you don’t have to worry about today's headlines or
last night’s secrets, to live life vivaciously.
Find a place that smells like freedom.
A place where you can laugh, yell, sing, dance and
doesn’t require anyone else’s opinion to validate your selfdom.
Find a place where you never limit yourself.
A place where you explore your abilities, create something beautiful and
let yourself grow, flow and truly find oneself.
Find a place where you feel secure.
A place where you don’t have to be scared of the ones that have done you wrong or have hurt you or made you feel impure.
Find a place where you can be at peace.
A place where you don’t have to be cautious of your own actions or
be bothered about others labeling you their constant conversation piece.
Find a place that makes you fight battles courageously.
A place where you finally embrace your flaws, earn your scars and
learn to live life impulsively.
Find a place that keeps prejudices away.
A place where no one curses you for your mistakes but helps you realize and learn from them in every way.
Find a place that brightens up your every day.
A place where you learn to channel the happiness, sorrow, anger and freedom and pain buried deep within you, the right way.
But most importantly,
find a place where you can love and be loved.
And when you finally find that place, hold on to it for ages to come.
Cherish each moment you spent there and call it Home.
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 12:19 AM UTC