"inconvenient" poems
Amid the verbose magicians
Seeking kinships
And sailing deep into their arduous mists
Watching them peddle their afternoon
To a handful of smiling children holding their breath
Amazed in gentle body trick
The older men of age
Leaning deep into their creased chins
Stroking the grizzled fat
Blinding light of soul
Staring down the barrel of life
Striking the enemy one last time
And yet smiling
sober,
Met of match,
taking care of their kids.
Then there's the cold-clocked dudes
On the phone pushing buttons
In a button-up raglan
Lost indistinct
the promised land
The golden shores swept away by
inconvenient time
Left shopping in an auto mall
"Won't you look at the time?"
7.07 APR
Boy what a steal!
And Steve maddened and screamed
As the lines blurred instinctual between opposing teams
And the oven dinged a great alabaster slant
Leaning towards the new millenitants
Rise up!
***** the wheel
Turn the axel from pistons
To alkaline metal
And doubt with great monumental
Quality
That the machine borders all
And we cannot retreat
And while I sift bouyantly between the waves
Searching the puzzle piece within the molecules
Reconnecting with the things
And representing
dreams on a 66 hertz screen
I call rather failing
Towards a black rocked shore
Towards the sweet Dorigen
Of my dreams
Finding an integral of time
And space
And calculating the intangible slope
Of my desmise
With the imaginary constiutent
Of that lighted mind.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 4:24 PM UTC
This trumpeter of nothingness, employed
To keep our reason dull and null and void.
This man of wind and froth and flux will sell
The wares of any who reward him well.
Praising whatever he is paid to praise,
He hunts for ever-newer, smarter ways
To make the gilt seen gold; the shoddy, silk;
To cheat us legally; to bluff and bilk
By methods which no jury can prevent
Because the law's not broken, only bent.
This mind for hire, this mental **********
Can tell the half-lie hardest to refute;
Knows how to hide an inconvenient fact
And when to leave a doubtful claim unbacked;
Manipulates the truth but not too much,
And if his patter needs the Human Touch,
Skillfully artless, artlessly naive,
Wears his convenient heart upon his sleeve.
He uses words that once were strong and fine,
Primal as sun and moon and bread and wine,
True, honourable, honoured, clear and keen,
And leaves them shabby, worn, diminished, mean.
He takes ideas and trains them to engage
In the long little wars big combines wage...
He keeps his logic loose, his feelings flimsy;
Turns eloquence to cant and wit to whimsy;
Trims language till it fits his clients, pattern
And style's a glossy **** or limping slattern.
He studies our defences, finds the cracks
And where the wall is weak or worn, attacks.
lie finds the fear that's deep, the wound that's tender,
And mastered, outmanouevered, we surrender.
We who have tried to choose accept his choice
And tired succumb to his untiring voice.
The dripping tap makes even granite soften
We trust the brand-name we have heard so often
And join the queue of sheep that flock to buy;
We fools who know our folly, you and I.
11.1k
Such a shame
A one sided relationship
Shall I add up each effort
All my care
Each phone call
Both shoulders to cry on
With nothing in return
I try so very hard
A best friend to me, you mean the most to me
Why do I not mean as much?
Why must I try so hard?
Closeness is not one sided
I'm beginning to see
What I've tried to ignore
Please, be with me
But if not, just tell me
I can't take this
I care for you so much
If I'm inconvenient
Just tell me
If I'm trying too hard
Just tell me
If I should give up on this
Please tell me
Aug 16, 2012
Aug 16, 2012 at 12:17 AM UTC
where it starts
1. your girlfriend will have a miscarriage
for the second time
and you, you'll start using needles
THERE WILL BE NO DIRECT CORRELATION BETWEEN THESE TWO THINGS
but you tell yourself
a daughter is what would make life worth living
and subsequently what it takes to get you sober
2. you lose your job
because you're always in the bathroom missing veins
loss of job will inevitably spiral into an
"intolerable depression"
or
"extended sadness"
or
"whatever version of this is easiest to swallow"
3. you get to spend every holiday from your birthday until The Day She Dies sitting next to your mother's hospital bed
(except for when you're always in the bathroom, missing veiins)
LATER
your sister reassures you that mom didn't know the way you also choked back guilt with all the bile and unpleasant things in your trips to the restroom
but for now you will hate yourself
hate the sticky needles
and hate the way your girlfriend leaves all her ghosts behind when she leaves you
4. you find that bathroom floors are your new home
splayed out after your 8th overdose
jail cells are just a normal tuesday
and you keep waking up to razor blades left neatly on your pillow
where it ends
5. giving up ****** is like pulling teeth
messy and painful but typically necessary
and so hard to do alone
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 12:30 AM UTC
No Nut November
Is the hardest thing
I have ever participated in.
Seriously, it’s really hard.
Like all the time, and at the most
INCONVENIENT places.
Waiting for the train? Hard.
Taking a dump? Hard.
Wedding or funeral?
Yea let’s not go there...
But the worst moment by far
was telling a homeless man
I didn’t have any change, and he
Said, “it’s okay, no one’s been this
happy to see me in years”
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 5:37 PM UTC
I'm the morning whisper that punches you in the gut
the winning lottery ticket that you didn't buy
an inconvenience with impeccable timing
the drinks you spill on nameless lovers
i'm the giggle when a dog sniffs your hand
i'm a naked water fight in January for no reason
i'm cold pillows shaped like a former lover
your favorite t-shirt when it's lost
and found
the drip drip in the sink when you wanna sleep
the creepy crawlers you can't shake
the colorful wrapper with nothing inside
a no vacancy sign at the end of the road
your vulnerability when you're most tender
i'll call you names when you're not looking
look at you funny when you're not listening
i'm the sense that doesn't make,
the only sense there is
i'm your senses when you want to shut me out
the wrong L-word at just the right time
i'm your second chance when you need a third
the maybe, when you really wanted a yes
i'm what feels your pain
the broken promise that brings you more-
pain
what turns the tide when you're not looking
i'm a moonlit midnight swim
i'm sometimes butt-naked
your favorite shade of lipstick
i am your guardian angel
the absence you hold
i'm the scenic route after a bump in the road
the sunset drive that saves your soul
i'm the texture of wet sand between your toes
the burn in every tear you've cried
i'm the vintage dresser you found on a rainy day
the song you hate, stuck on repeat
i count the palm trees when you're not looking
i forget lovers lost and found
i am the one who messes up your hair,
just to dry your tears
i am the vault of all your deepest darkest secrets
always inconvenient and never around
i'm laughter when you least expect it
the 4 am call you don't wanna take
i'm the mirror that sells you lies
the denim shorts that makes your **** look really cute
i'm the cherry (on your wedding dress)
a joyride and a swing-set all in one
i'm what turns you on
what turns you away
i'm your throne
your downfall
your ecstatic,
uplifting
wonderful
life.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 3:01 PM UTC
The future has no mouth,
No tongue,
No teeth.
The Earth speaks, but it's easy not to hear.
Easier still,
when drowned by the rising noise
of trucks and drills,
destruction and greed.
And you want more,
And you want convenience.
you don't want hassle,
you don't want consequences,
of what you choose.
That's inconvenient.
You're busy,
you've got things to do,
you've got a job and a family,
and you don't care about much more than that.
Excepting, most notably, yourself.
So you turn the other way.
We sit on the ground before you,
we sing songs of generations before us
who tried to help the Earth too.
We sing the words of those who protected our lands,
before the coming of this new age
of willful ignorance.
And you walk past us,
and on top of us.
And you blame us for being in the way.
You yell at us to move,
you've got things to do!
Things to ignore!
It's easier not to know,
easier still not to change,
but the teethless, tongueless, mouthless future
continues to approach.
Melting, heating and shaking.
We must hear it,
before there is no-one left to hear.
I carry these bruises with pride.
I carry knowledge of my actions with pride.
I will do my best for the future,
I will not regret my caring.
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 2:16 AM UTC
i wonder if
it's something about
the way you smile,
or the way you merge into
all the right places.
it's the way you make me feel
when we talk,
i don't even know what i say
i just don't care
cause you're never really listening.
or maybe its that peculiar thing
you do when you wanna laugh
at the most inconvenient times
or that face you make
when you're truly confused
that unnecessary thing
you do with your life,
when you throw it all away
for someone who doesn't
even love you
half as much as i do.
that really, really hurtful thing
you do with your words,
but you look so cute
when you're breaking my heart
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
THEY will have the final word.
Believe what the PARTY says is true.
Even Facecrime gives you away,
For BIG BROTHER is watching you.
Honesty? Bah, such nonsense!
Loyalty is what must sell.
State-spread rumors incite the mob
In your bleak, dystopian hell.
Reject evidence of eyes and ears.
That's what THEY say. Watch how hate
Turns the unquestioning supporter
Against the enemies of the state.
The Goodthinkful, unaware
How language affects their thoughts and behavior,
Show how ignorance is strength
And lavish praise upon their savior.
Manipulating public opinion,
THEY know well-spread lies will last,
For that's how THEY'LL control the future,
And that's how THEY control the past.
Doublethink is what THEY call it:
The clever art of reality control.
Ignorance is strength, THEY tell you.
Controlled insanity is THEIR goal.
The more powerful THEY become,
The less THEY prove to be your friend.
It's NOT about what's good for the people.
Power is NOT a means but an end.
War is declared on language and memory.
Inconvenient facts are rejected.
Science is reviled, and THEY
Discredit people once respected.
Doublespeak narrows the range of thought.
By caving in you might survive.
Two and two make four, but sometimes
THEY'LL say that two and two make five.
Opinions are not tolerated.
Protective stupidity: that's THEIR plan.
You think THEY can't control your thoughts,
But, oh, THEY can. THEY really can.
Do you look at your screen, or does
Your screen look at you? Or Both?
Do you know how much THEY know
Or if THEY know you've kept your oath?
Who's the next to be vaporized?
Who's the next to become an unperson?
As long as THEY control your "thinking,"
Everything can only worsen.
If only to awaken from the nightmare
Where truth becomes a likelihood
And we retain humanity!
Wouldn't that be "doubleplusgood"?
-by Bob B (8-30-18)
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 12:21 PM UTC
He is the inconvenient truth,
And always goes unnoticed.
I guess it's for the better,
I would hate to be ****** into,
His heart he hides,
Under the vacant smiles.
He is the boy who tells white lies,
And balms his good intentions.
I want him to tell me so,
I hate the fact he doesn't.
His mouth just seeps sugar,
What he thinks I want to hear.
He is a constant misconception,
And prides himself on his demeanour.
They think of him as nice, or kind,
I hate the fact I see the latter.
His delusions of how things should be,
Will never cloud my judgement.
For what I hate the most about him,
Is that I know who he really is,
And it's sad,
he wouldn't recognise reflection.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 4:51 PM UTC
All is good
Someone else will do it
There’s no urgency
Isn’t that nice
Oh that’s too bad
I’ll get to it later
Ugh, is she asking for money?
Just look away
Isn’t that inconvenient
Hmmm, not now
It can’t be that bad
Another sad story
Just so far away
It’s not real, not fleshy
But let me tell you just how fleshy it is…
Let me tell you how he spat up his insides
All blood and foam and green-yellow bile
How he vomited all hope from his saggy-skinned chest
It was such an easy operation
And your $20 could have saved him
No joke
But instead he withered away
Waiting…
And then he died…
And you still have your 20 bucks
You still went about your day
A day of stress and worry and convenience, no doubt
And I was left with tears, and a body to ship
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 2:32 PM UTC
Truancy is a ***** with ***** stamps and skunky hair
her constant need to blow smoke up the ***** of those trying to try
is inconvenient at best, irresponsible at worst,
maybe amusing in the eyes of the elders.
Been there, done that
she rolls her eyes and pouts
slits her wrists with carnival glass
so she bleeds the multi-dimensional colors imperceivable to human eyes,
an entirely different color spectrum,
ultraviolet, super violent,
tasty and warm.
This young lady is no lady at all
just a little girl,
vulnerable and scared
and a total ****** *****
grabbing her ankles and thumping in dumpsters,
pretty little thing,
with scabs and gin
and cute little *** stains.
Leave her be,
this street walking angel
she never learned her lesson,
too swag for education.
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 10:20 PM UTC
I have become angry.
I was sad, and now I am angry.
I have been told you pass through stages of grief
When the one who got away is indifferent
Indifference hurts.
So does anger.
And anger is building inside me like a volcano
Anger is rising to the surface like burnt milk forgotten on a stove
Anger is seeping into my veins because I have been nothing but nice
Nothing but convenient
Yet
You make me feel like I am a bother
A stain on your carpet you cannot wash out
A nail sticking out of the furniture, just a little
Out of place
You make me feel out of place
I am right where I need to be
Right where I belong
You do not get to kick me out because I have become
Inconvenient
I won't accommodate you any longer
I have been nothing but truthful
Honest
Myself
And you do not get to make me feel any less than that.
I will not stoop so low.
I will not bow down.
I am here to stay.
This is my life.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC
But.
I know you are, but.
But what? Is this so
inconceivable?
So inconvenient?
We don't control these things,
not forever.
Perhaps when we're young
and scared,
So when we finally settle in,
into our own skins,
everyone has
something to say.
"But this isn't who
you used to be;
this isn't who I know-"
Well, I'm more myself
than ever before,
and I refuse to fall
into your perfect view.
I feel safe
just out of focus,
and there is where I'll stay.
Jul 16, 2021
Jul 16, 2021 at 10:28 PM UTC
Another beloved strides out of my life.
Some smoker pauses
head bent over their cigarette
matchstick poised to flare and shimmy under
streetlight
but the waiting moment stretches
infinitely
With sweet shock I realise there is a breeze
playing around us both
made suddenly material
in the space/ the pause between
spark and fulfillment
Then can we wonder how things unseen
or only felt
become visible when
inconvenient
Yearning
for the moment
pressed somewhere into the weft of my childhood
Aslan smiling
-if lions can smile-
when three small British children find out
that they need never leave Narnia again.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
Dragged out screaming, senseless from the hallows of martyrdom
My father's mother's wayward brother
Baptized in propaganda and searing lead
Kamikaze death machine to paranoia fever dream
A noble experiment in utter catastrophe
Half measure, interstellar tourniquet
Stem the free flow of blood like inconvenient statistical evidence
Dripping down born-again ****** America's chin
Vector-like, everything explodes outwards
And on trajectories like these only friction is holy
Murphy's law in ecstatic altercation
A furious life lived under an anachronistic magnifying glass
Truly the only thing worth decaying for
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
Not even kidding.
I have been in the throes
of a sort of mid-life crisis,
because I can't have
any more babies.
I ******* LOVE BABIES
My best friend is pregnant
right now. Soooo pregnant.
It's ******* adorable.
And I, I am unable to have
ANY MORE BABIES.
BUT I LOVE BABIES.
No **** you guys,
I really like to have babies.
I am *******
GOOD AT HAVING AWESOME BABIES.
My ****** was like
baby ******* paradise.
And I just had
a miniature midlife crisis
over the fact that
I had to use the word
"was" right there.
If I still had that ******
I would be forced
to use multiple layers
of protection
to ward off fertilization, and
MORE BABIES.
I LOVE BABIES.
I can gestate like a ************
Oh wait, maybe
more like a ****** mother,
YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.
******* BABIES!
And when I give birth,
I do it kamikaze style,
with only a couple minutes
notice for the attending physician.
BLINKED? OH NO, SORRY
DR. ************
YOU ******* MISSED IT!
Back when I had a ******
like last year,
I was fertile
like a thing that is incredibly fertile.
You had to put an army
between me and my ******
or some **** would go on
and I would be all,
oh! A new kid!
That's inconvenient!
But man,
you know,
you birth a child,
it's insanely difficult
on a level incomprehensible
to anyone who hasn't done it,
you work through it.
And then ******* hell,
you're the mother
of 3 teenagers
and your very productive
****** is all
**** YOU, SERIOUSLY?
And you put it out of
your misery, and then,
a few months later,
you think
it would be nice to have another baby.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
my body is a topic that trails the mouths of a family at dinner
it is the trail of saliva that leaves shortly after breaking a heated kiss
always leaving a bitter taste
but when did you taste me?
when did I crawl into your mouth full of cavities?
existing as I am cements chains in people's root canals
a topic for discussion
my life to debate
trans people being the forefront
it is so inconvenient and sinful
and yet its the flavor on their seething lips
kissing one another trailing more saliva
knowingly trading hate with ones mind and lips
integrating more citizens and normalizing their behavior
transphobia is the topic for discussion
Jun 18, 2021
Jun 18, 2021 at 1:25 AM UTC
In my family mental illness isn’t a question of
“Will I or won’t I?”
It’s a question of
“When and how badly?’
Because in my family mental illness isn’t a question
It’s a promise
It’s a promise that you hope someone will break
And you realize that life after 20 isn’t a guarantee
Because it’s a question of
“Will I bury my parents or will my parents bury me?”
Because if the mental illness doesn’t **** you
It’ll be the cancer
Or the diabetes
Or maybe the heart disease
But in my family making it to 80 is something
Only two people have seen
And you learn to stop asking questions
And in my family
You learn to laugh while you can
And to smile in the rain
To drink while it’s legal
And to die at inconvenient times
Like before weddings
And graduations
And birthdays
And you learn to stop asking whose coming
And stop sending out invitations
And just hope someone is alive to see you
Dying
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 1:52 AM UTC
He called in for a shower after being alone on the streets for a week.
Is that time enough
to get ***** for a shower
as a man nearly twenty-six
in years.
She could turn him away
like her father’s sister
might have and did.
From time to time.
It all depended on how many times in a week,
month, or year
he would show up without a call.
Without knowing he still existed.
Somehow, his presence and
absence
were a mixed blessing.
His presence was like a merry-go-round
that goes against the earth’s pull.
Like a brazen thorn
stuck into your shoe.
Unpredictable.
Vacuum-like.
******* all the ***** things in.
Taking everything in its sight
and power and making
everything contort
to his reality.
Where he and only he resided.
Would she open the door for him?
What she does know
is that she might risk speaking
in a bright happy voice
of a mother
so gladsome to see her son.
Welcoming him in.
Rather than turning him away
because of his inconvenience.
Grief is inconvenient.
That is one thing she knows.
Apr 24, 2023
Apr 24, 2023 at 9:36 AM UTC
Here it comes again.
The "i think we should just be friends."
The "i can't do this right now."
I told you from the start.
I told you how
Whenever I opened my mouth
And let the thoughts come rolling out,
I was alone all over again.
Just me and my thoughts.
I told you why
I hold back the truth.
I hold back
The thoughts that could **** me.
Because no one wants to hear that.
But you said you would listen,
You told me to come to you.
And you'd always be there to hold me
When the thoughts came back.
I slowly started to believe you,
I let you see my cry.
I let you hold me like you said you would,
And your arms felt like home.
Something has changed,
Like you took back
All that you said.
Last night when I cried
Your arms didn't feel like home.
But it was like I was holding onto
Someone I don't even know.
What happened to your open ears?
When I told you my thoughts
I felt coldness in you.
Like your presence was telling me
"Just shut up."
Now you see what I mean
When I say i'm a burden.
I'm just something people
"deal with".
Until they get tired
Of listening to me cry.
I'm sorry
If my pain is inconvenient.
I'm sorry
That i'm a mess.
But you knew what you signed up for
When you said
What you said.
So hear I am,
Burden Girl.
Like Superman's
Suicidal sister.
I'm the disaster
He tries to clean up.
But I'm the best
At creating a mess.
They all just say
"I'm here for you."
But they always run
When they see the truth.
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
Conditional beyond reasonable
Is how our relationship sometimes feels...
More often than I'd care to admit.
My love is unconditional
And, therefore, can be easily used (abused?)
The value forgotten or blinded whenever I act human, imperfect, fragile or broken... Inconvenient I am. So are we all.
Where does your anger come from?
Taken for granted
Until you find something YOU miss.
Over and over again, this cycle persists...
Only according to your terms
Only if convenient
Only if it serves your sole purpose
Only if maintenance-free
Only if easy... Perfect... Not too much trouble...
UNTIL there is something you need...
From me.
Yes, boundaries are a necessity.
But relationships based on
Convenience for oneself
Are not relationships, at all..
They are one-way streets
Serving one person's agenda
Controlling, manipulative, self-serving, emotional toil...
And, somehow, always justifiable (in your eyes)
Because I am not who you want me to be...
I don't fit your "ideal" mold.
And you feel that is what you are owed?
(I honestly don't know...)
Except when you feel alone, afraid, or empty.
You don't dare lose what you can use! (abuse?)
But dare I say or do something amiss...
Your "conditions" will persist.
How do I say "stop!" when my role is to love, protect, and forgive?
Pain. What to do with all the pain.
If I tell, I will be blamed for my pain causing your pain...
This, my love, is NOT love.
No relationship of substance exists
When such rules and expectations persist.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 12:46 PM UTC
You got her from the tailors
All neatly wrapped in pink tissue
Plenty of pretty dresses
But he did not attend.
The phone calls appeared promising
In the beginning, even excited
But then it was always six o'clock
And inconvenient.
Loving can't be part-time
Need is a regularity
Not a hundred pouches of food
When you promised to be around.
Bluebell smiles in the silver bracelet
A trophy baby for a quiz night
And you can't move on
Because your lighter is broke.
And you can't see in the dark
Because your scared to death
Because no one knows
Bluebell wriggles her toes.
Love Grandma ***
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 1:15 PM UTC
i am a poet and still
i can’t comprehend these symbols
these missing heartbeats
and hours spent counting thimbles
i am perplexed by love
shall we seek herbs and remedies
lose ourselves in cures and compounds
must our inner territories be colonized
while we remain captivated by inconvenient theories
struck down by doubt and insecurity
the mind wields no ammunition
and yet its cavalry has desecrated the land
without the slightest sign of inhibition
or a trace of empathy, justice or compassion
will we make a new peace treaty
will the blessed earth be forgiven
and can the sweet essence of her children
comprehend the innocence of spring
oh how our hearts yearn for dancing
still you spend your dollars and your pennies
but give your emptiness to the king
i eat oats and honey cooked upon the fire
while you distill golden nectar from the garden of desire
in the ancient inside-out alembic of your will
and imbibe spagyric liquid that eradicates all pride
and confers wisdom, truth, beauty and longevity
upon the already immortal nature of your mind
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 5:04 PM UTC