"insistingly" poems
(Cebuano word, an identifier for a male person whom we do not know by name.)
Here's a story of a not so lovely baby
Hey babay go'ne my way
Faded, on his way, shameless
Maybe needs some work....
What the hey, anyhow he play
The game of heart break
Silent now
Shirk and shake it off your shoulders
Telling myself insistingly
"He ain't my responsibility"
"I won't feel bad - take care of your own
****
We smoke and vape
The other **** we hit the days wide awake
My bad, acquaintance not much else
A brief voicemail
he is shaming whispering
"Hey bakla - what are you?"
Who that Price?
when your ice glaciers melt
And garbage comes bubbling up
From under your breath
So Truly only you
For reals tho'
Be he the abandoned one
Early on broke
Those years ago a kid
Hatred your imaginary friended
You're a G in your head
Spite quiets down when
Down and out ...
Crazy to suddenly
See you now
Still loathing me
And somehow I believed it
As cries for help but
Hungry wolf each night
Is still a dog
planning to bite.
Still angry at me for nothing's right
Just another sod
To prey and feed
Upon...
Yow not a dog
Your it's flea.
To think I prayed for you...
Forgot the gist of this
So so sorry
No kidding this morning
No taller story
Than pretending to be something
Worthy.
As friend as family.
Now you're just a ****
Someone Without a name
If Strangers call you ****
I still do not know you
Aren't that close with
Who you've wronged before...or
Why I'm an open door,
Walked on all over
Sorry so tardy to tell you
No more.
****
Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 1:30 AM UTC
We wake up to that alarming sound,
Pick up the cellphone
Scroll, Scroll, Scroll
Unread messages, missed calls
The darkness and lonesome of waking up,
Covered, Isolated,
but recharged from the constant stimulus
and daily overload of the senses.
Eyes feel weighted,
Stretching open as if rubber bands hold them shut.
The sound of TVs, Music, Cars,
Technology
Dressing well, presentation is key.
The anxiety of fulfilling plans, responding to emails, presenting your body to wherever it needs to be.
Enslaved by the concept of time,
the necessary effort to find time for you,
but the feeling of losing, and the learned mentality that tells you to be lazy is to sit.
In this quiet realm,
listening to ones own thoughts and wondering:
how many of these are a result of influence?
Where am I?
Where is me?
Everyday we wear this armor,
ready to battle,
but seeking
peace,
tranquility.
When was the last time you noticed the birds chirp?
The patterns of wind, as is winds up,
and as it winds down.
As it quiets down enough to hear a pen drop,
and then it leaves you for a moment.
The cold as it triggers goosebumps and lifts the hair on your arms.
The annoyance of grass,
irritating your bare skin as you sit on it,
but you choose tolerance.
And all of this provokes the realization,
of the constant loop you are in.
To get here you have to escape.
The expectations of each one of your roles,
Son or Daughter, Man or Woman, Friend or Foe, to choose you or someone else,
Human.
The appoinments of life,
the need to insistingly value your time,
the sin of escaping your daily routine.
Days like these
A machine constantly in motion
To be the free bird that fights for survival,
where a meal is never guaranteed.
Or to be caged,
and fed by the social constructs,
and partake of what is given to you.
Either way,
A loop is a loop.
Feb 10, 2024
Feb 10, 2024 at 12:34 AM UTC
You...
My spectacular scene in this life.
Feels like am losing my mind, or you are ******* it instead.
Right from the day you said you liked me...
After your pals told me you had observed me from a distance...
Day after Day...
I simply cant get less of you.
I don't know the new charm you have on me, but it is divine.I swore never to let me fall for anyone after Beth,
But how you do it, I have no idea.
Just the simplest of all I have ever met, known.
Held onto the ground, steady.
The melody...
The care...The support.
How you speak sense to my lost self
Ever insistingly pointing me to the right path.
Your touch when am angry that just calms me.
Mam'...I may not know how to say this face to face now...
But each morning I wake, I wish...that you will make me YOURS
Coz there is no one else I'd rather belong to.*
©The Unspoken
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 1:14 AM UTC
*You never truly know loss,
Or how much tragedy weighs,
How it makes feel like you're under water,
And to breathe, your lungs just won't obey.
You were so small, so hidden in the universe,
And suddenly your existence is so massive,
You never know until you're hit,
That the force of it all makes you come crashing.
And every scattered piece is calling for the other,
And everyone is insistingly trying to help,
But the water level rises to your ears,
And every sound that comes close is always repelled.
You never truly know loss,
How it spreads like cancer inside your being,
You never know until you're a core of something that used to be,
And there's nothing more of you worth seeing.
You never know...
All those second hand tears never prepare you,
For when your lungs are filled with water,
And it feels like there's no sun to look up to.*
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 7:18 PM UTC
Drip
drop
Drip
as if a faucets dripping,
drip drop drip drop,
sing song sing,
bleeding limbs,
bruised
cut wrists.
Tequila & pills
easing me
into a sedation
into sweet oblivion
blending together
meshing in & out,
insistingly extracting,
melting round & round.
pins drop soundlessly
on the carpet.
Blue & red
lights flash
brightly out the window,
I can't hear,
I can't feel,
I'm fading....
colors blend,
faces fade,
shadows dim.
I see nothing,
blurred shapes
like the kaleidoscope,
twinkling
starlight's shimmering
brightly
before my eyes
I see nothing...
Only
Smudges.
By: ~KnowOneKnowsMe2~
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 3:10 AM UTC
I can't stand this nonsense, this indifference
this moat around the edge of my sight. My life.
I can't stand this overindulgence,
this unfettered decadence,
while the rest of the world isn't even given the privilege of weeping.
Of sleeping.
Of light.
Insistingly,
I can't sleep - my dreams too a world without dreams.
An unfiltered montage of my insecurities playing out the reality I feel behind the forced optimism. The fanaticism,
for the smoothly ironed pressed.
Life.
I call out my own name -
behind the darkened and forgotten windowpane,
is the version of myself, angry, lonely and free.
Free of the freedoms that suffocate me.
Apparently I'm free to choose my fate,
my desk, my jacket, my dinner plate.
Yet where is the queue for self-expression?
For social justice? For unadulterated streams?
I am waiting, and getting rather impatient
with this facade
that we call 'the way it is.'
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 6:54 PM UTC
Drip
drop
Drip
as if a faucets dripping,
drip drop drip drop,
sing song sing,
bleeding limbs,
bruised
cut wrists.
Tequila & pills
easing me
into a sedation
of sweet oblivion.
limbs, wrists, tears
stinging
blending together
meshing in & out,
insistingly extracting,
melting round & round.
pins drop soundlessly
on the carpet.
Blue & red
lights flash
brightly out the window,
I can't hear,
I can't feel,
I'm fading....
colors blend,
faces fade,
shadows dim.
I see nothing,
blurred shapes
like the kaleidoscope,
twinkling
starlight's shimmering
brightly
before my eyes
I see nothing...
Only
Smudges.
By:
~KnowOneKnowsMe2~
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 3:23 AM UTC