"interpersonal" poems
I peruse exhibits through the modern art museum
Nails hammered into wood
And trash strewn on the floor
I couldn't help thinking
What the **** is this ****
These can't be the champions of modern art
Moonlight and Arrival morphed my empathy and perspective
The theater is fine
Music is there for those inclined to discover it
So what about visual art?
I know a few things for certain
Nails hammered into wood never changed my perspective
Nor does seeing a garbage can in a museum affect my empathy
Trash is not art
Trash is trash
Waste meant to be thrown in the proper receptacles
So as not to obstruct our view of true beauty
I will concede that
Beauty can be found in everything
Depending on analyzation variation
But those that live an examined life
Constantly see silver linings and sour grapes
Experiencing comfort in tundras to the point of banality
Those visions are much more interesting
in their organic state anyway
As opposed to an interpersonal expression of the seemingly obvious
So what to hang in an art gallery?
I have my own opinions
At this point in time
No visuals elicit more emotions
Than dank memes
When I'm consuming art
Questions are innate in my consumption
Is this a vessel for empathy?
Is this examining the human condition?
Dank memes meet those criteria
Satirizing the powerful
Highlighting emotions and virtues in ourselves
That we're either proud or ashamed of
Memes share a common thread with poetry
In the sense that everybody can create memes
Or be a poet
I get the impression that
Universality of art diminishes it's importance
In the minds of patrons
There's an element of truth to that
But what makes art special is quality
And what makes art truly special is high quality
And that's what belongs in museums
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 11:23 PM UTC
Confined to eternal asphyxiation
They live a suffocated existence
No hope to regain what they took for granted
They showed no regard for earth, air, or water
This polluted wasteland, their planet
They cannot love each other anymore
Their punishment is solitude and xenophobia
What privileges they had, once upon a time
Affection and love, and interpersonal immersion
Now doomed, forever, to be alone
In this world destroyed by greed, desire, and lust
For power, the human beings atone,
They do not deserve to be alive, let alone
To walk aware of their wrongdoings
They should have been erased
I would have loved to be the executioner
Of billions sinful, lying, cursed, wretched,
Vile, incessant, promiscuous, vicious, insidious,
Slimy, wily, evil creatures humans are
Instead I have become their saviour
I feel no pity or sympathy for the Devils
They became in exchange of their materialism
I see them walk in masses of melancholy, loneliness
As I once did for which they showed no regard for me
And heartless, I ignore their silent cries for help
You are sentenced to life in prison, one like no other
Free to live in a society which shows more confinement
Than any man-made cell or coffin
Elements you took for granted shall be stripped away
Your sinful quest for immortality has led you accordingly
It is forbidden to breathe the air you polluted,
Drink the water you tainted, eat the fruits of the earth you destroyed
Your senses will be nullified and your spirits
Crushed as this planet was insufficient
For your corrupted existence .
Dec 3, 2009
Dec 3, 2009 at 11:38 AM UTC
You can assume what you want you're probably right
This is a never ending story
A special heart broke apart is the downside of favoritism
To live today with a awfully wedded wife
Can coincide with the upside to fablism
Can you stand up with or aside a revolution
It's still a time of movement
This is the start of a revolution
In the mind of a mover who constantly dreams of destruction
Fail or win
Now that's its over
You can become addicted to the fact that you want it back
Just that very dream or memory
Can leave you so high
That a skydiving crash would feel like a descent towards pillowed daffodils
Now histamines flare up
Now swollen about to pop
You've never been so high
The perfect quality to qualify the high you have
But quantity Is the one thing no one can grasp
Have none to share none
If you don't have it for yourself first
You can't give something you don't have enough for even yourself
This is the blank meaning for inspiration
For inspiring an unborn child
Maybe it's the missing meaning
Blank blank blank
It still means nothing when nothing is there
So why take this walk
Why write lines the continue to feel like nothing
Why scream on top of the mountain of the faintest echo won't reach the mightiest of ears hearing to tell the world of an achievement
That no one fortunately cares about
An empty sentient being
It's more interpersonal than that
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC
Torrential rain forms an interference pattern deep within the puddles of the soul, whilst vegetation gains sustenance. Electricity may be a force to be reckoned with because it is a commodity which has monetary significance. Multicultural delicacies are a work of art in La Cucina Toscana, and I wholeheartedly acknowledge your internal drives.
We truly are a deep river which is never the same when it is stepped into more than once. But we can balance it all out, because relativism tells us that there are no rules. How absolutely ineffective is such a position. I am amazed. Just think about how we determine the consistency of seemingly genuine interpersonal transactions. If you want to find healing, then we must look to the howling winds of Siberia, where solitary journeys are sealed with a definite song of permission.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:44 PM UTC
extroversion and furtherment
of inner realism.
left to drum
right on the funk
flowing, growing
in supplies
and in the eyes;
straight
to the soul
and back up the brain
for interpretation;
annihilation
of any idea
left overlooked,
and now hooked
on something else -
internal shift
in perception,
through productivity,
and out of longevity
this shall rise.
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC
We’re in a young-love recession.
Gen Zers are slow to trust and averse to risk,
we have, it seems, a particular social nervousness
about interpersonal exchanges and the symbiosis of love.
So we resort to situationships (undefined relationships),
a stratagem for closeness, with zero commitment.
You can flirt; you can kiss; you can dance.
You can have a crush so big it blots out the stars
You can have transformative romantic encounters
you can care deeply and get hurt badly
you can, in fact, be absolutely wrecked by love
All without ever being in a relationship.
Thank God we’re only young once.
.
.
Songs for this:
Die With A Smile by Lady Gaga & Bruno Mars
Busy Woman by Sabrina Carpenter
Mar 18, 2025
Mar 18, 2025 at 9:55 PM UTC
Conflict resolution is like a field of mines where shrapnel explodes and uncertain footings pervade their way through the flesh of our workplace relationships.
Professionalism has crossed invisible boundaries beyond the realms of Saturn, don’t you think?
Please, will you consider having political interactions on the territory upon which I reside? You will then truly understand the mechanics of being.
I can correct you. But you must be willing.
Come on, babe! I dare you to venture outside of the box of predictability, because we can then truly arrive at a mutual understanding.
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
Futility makes the world go round.
******************
- I can’t...
- I don’t know...
- Can I have a cigarette?
- Should I have a cigarette?
- Can I go now?
- I’m going now.
- I love you too. (until further notice)
——————————————-
Crossing the infinity line of the Daytona 500
With coherent static
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 12:14 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Throwing rice at your wedding with ruckus I would make,
Have the wedding singer play a song that I know you hate,
Its telling me I should be on my own,
Team effort is the only reason I'm not in my zone,
I swear I had to put some since into you after awhile,
You know I'm looking out for you , it drives me wild,
To see you hurt as much, wit regrets taking action,
Don't know what the **** I did, to our interpersonal reactions,
I feel for where you coming from , I don't know whats the problem,
With you moving on, and forgetting the past, but had to repeat the startdem,
Though you were my partner , in crime , dont know what to call her , but I wouldnt bother.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 5:21 PM UTC
You told me so young that pills make you better, I'm thirty nine and still not better
From seizure medicines, to Zoloft, to sleeping pills, and downers my head is unwinding
I became an introvert, paranoid. That girl is smiling, want to go home where it
is quiet. Sent to a program to cope with interpersonal relationships
The only thing is the medicines make me gain weight
Sleep is the only thing that I do right
Check ups are always fun, are you taking your medicines? The right answer is always yes.
How are your moods? I have none Yes I'm taken my pills add this and increase this.
At home always nagged for forgetting my pills so I do as I'm told.
Have some Lithium it likes to eat the liver, have some Zoloft, Effexor and more.
Another day, Did you take your pills? Yes I did in fact I swallowed them all
I filled my cup, made a hysteria soup. Did you take your pills?
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 3:15 AM UTC
Osiris is the Egyptian god of the afterlife and triangulation is a mystery within the context of interpersonal dynamics.
The world, as we know it, is subject to greater influences, despite the manipulations of those who presume to be sophisticated.
I love my cat. He is my familiar Sphinx of the West, and I have been acquainted with his wizardry for hundreds of years.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 4:08 PM UTC
You told me so young that pills make you better, I'm thirty nine and still not better
From seizure medicines, to Zoloft, to sleeping pills, and downers my head is unwinding
I became an introvert, paranoid. That girl is smiling, want to go home where it
is quiet. Sent to a program to cope with interpersonal relationships
The only thing is the medicines make me gain weight
Sleep is the only thing that I do right
Check ups are always fun, are you taking your medicines? The right answer is always yes.
How are your moods? I have none Yes I'm taken my pills add this and increase this.
At home always nagged for forgetting my pills so I do as I'm told.
Have some Lithium it likes to eat the liver, have some Zoloft, Effexor and more.
Another day, Did you take your pills? Yes I did in fact I swallowed them all
I filled my cup, made a hysteria soup. Did you take your pills?
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 3:15 AM UTC
Her house was right on the bus 14 route,
The route that paces back and forth
between the university and general hospital.
This was perfect for us, start to finish.
Early on, when I went to her house,
I thought my heart was going to explode out of my chest.
Other times, especially near the end,
I considered taking that Psyc course on Interpersonal Relations.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
Hell, I scrambled to an amusement park last night,
strapped myself in and coasted for hours
I didn't give myself a break instead I kept coasting until it got
hot and buzzed an alarming buzz
It was overheating, as was I, runnels of inhuman sweat stuck to my face
like glue from a hot gun
{they gave me a hot glue gun so I could make them better crafts than an 'ol family portrait with
blue and green markers on the backside of a receipt from the horse races; but my papa didn't
care about the crafts; he just wanted me busy so he could watch the tube and maybe have a nap
in the evening}
The cart is rattling out of its own carriage; I look up to the angels and only see black ***** smoke
Hell, I make a black ***** mess out of most things lately so instead I sit in it
because I usually run out of it; having towers crash and explode behind me
Hell, ya get what ya pay for; I pay for nothing, you pay for everything, I take everything – both of us will always know that
{remember when you'd say we'd go for ice cream to get me to shut up
we never went for ice cream}
Sparks underneath the rails, I twisted my stiff neck to stay still in something blasphemously heavy
{I used to think I was so heavy}
It’s like the feeling you get when you want to do something but your body won't succumb
Split mind & body interpersonal connections - left and right are both just forward,
Going forward to somewhere I've already been.
Hell, I let myself flood until they **** smacked the gates open with a
"What the **** are you tryna do? **** yourself?!" reprimand
And I even almost came to see you because you really wanted a daughter again and
I really wanted a father {again} - I've never really had one to begin with.
Instead, I listened to the cat's in the cradle and cut in my cradle
And hell, I really needed to be loved
I think more than I have ever needed
{you never left but you never came to leave me}
Hell, I don't think I have even seen hell yet; but one day it'll do me in good.
Thou he slay me, yet will I trust in him.
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 1:31 AM UTC
Mind is an island.
Setting sail on conceptual ships with charts of stars and atlases
only limited by imagination.
We look to the sea and our reflection shows in calm or turbulent waters.
Waves of wonder crest and pause
in the moment when the sea sees it’s reflection in us.
Peering out at the horizon
pondering ways to reach the other islands.
Feelings bloom into language used as planks in our ships.
Taking magic and turning it into science.
Growing into a symetrist seeking balance.
Trying to stay afloat in a jolly boat
to breach interpersonal moats.
But a parched heart wants to get wet.
Eyes turn from where the sun sets
and into the self.
Unflinching, I abandon ship.
Care for a swim?
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 10:28 PM UTC
Run your slender fingers through my desert storm, whilst tumbleweed blows past mechanical vineyards.
Although it feels like heaven, it would be fitting to acknowledge the indulgent nature of our deprivations.
How diabolical are our interpersonal dynamics amidst customised motorcycles with forked tongues
where the societal corpus callosum facilitates communication between hemispheres of cultural polarity.
Let us expose the violence that is submerged within suave guises of sophistication.
I am already seated in the dunes of contemplation where the sky at night reveals mysteries of silent amazement.
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
~~~
I pray this every morning.
And with every ♥ I put on your
Site I ask God to remember this
Prayer for you.
Creator Father,
**Jehovah Rohi ~ our Shepherd
Jehovah Nissi ~ our banner
Jehovah Rophe ~ our healer
Jehovah Jireh ~ our provider
Jehovah Shalom ~ our peace
Jehovah Shammah ~ our ever present help in times of trouble
Jehovah Tsidkenu ~ our righteousness
Jehovah M'Kaddesh ~ our sanctification**
God in all your manifestations
Be with my friends today.
Give them
*emotional
mental
physical
spiritual
relational (interpersonal)
marital
******
financial
educational
employmental
creative*
healing, growth and restoration.
Make every aspect of their humanity
WHOLE. HEALED. DELIVERED.
Let no weapon formed against them
prosper as it says in Isaiah 54:17
Let all who look upon them
do so with favor.
Place warring angels all around
them to protect them.
Put your loving arms around them
and bring them hope.
In Jesus Christ's Name I pray,
AMEN
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 4:44 PM UTC
Emergent and forming I feel a storm is imploring that soon without any warning you beg to cross a line
Every time, nothing is sacred but sacramental complacence is marked as roles of the shameless
Mean to skip a line another time? Is this too rough and obtuse for a cutie like you to boost the power line?
Number 9, completion is power and stricken chords every hour proceed to timeline devour those daily entities
I do decree that opposition to me is free and withered beatings to meetings, detours and dealings
understanding demands of variable plans is held by the hand that feeds the depleted need
I see it from every angle, the tangle, the multishifted frame though it dangles, I can't be stuck in my own head when
I see the reflections of me in the treasure it jangles, brings into focus where my head fell to float in the
moments set to wrangle, pull it in, dwell upon the good and discard where it hampers new fangled notions like
truth effusions of love and devotion are swallowed up in the daily ocean of noise traffic, the more verbose,
Graphic dispatches matches blasted disasters dashed and rash past distractions amass magic attacks balanced
Secular motion entwined with metaphysical potions, divided what is your quotient? It doesn't add up in this
moment.
Interpersonal, intergalactic, universal assertions disturbed by verbage of outrance
Message mismanaged mischief mallaeble mayhem managed maganamously mallicous mannered when I
would proclaim them. Members materialized meriting masturbatory movements and monetized
malappropriation I have no patience nor pathos for indiscriminant egos demonstrating a tangent as canon and
paralyzing progressions toward psychic visions of heaven, eyes as the cosmos, and pressures upended.
I'll cope with associations disastrous and tainted, but keep in my visage all that scratches my lenses
I know far too much to be content with the situation, but far too little to shatter falsehood's intitiation
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:53 AM UTC
Love is defined as a feeling of warm personal attachment or affection.
Personally, that definition pales in comparison to how I feel when I look into those capturing circles of chocolate.
How I feel when I look at that beautiful smile that sets my heart, mind, and body ablaze.
No, because I feel...
I feel a range of emotions from this interpersonal connection to this deep entanglement.
These feelings race through my heart, out both ventricles, through my arteries to deposit this tingling sensation
throughout my body like a thousand fiery red ants scrambling up and down my interior.
Is that how love feels?
Is that simply just a feeling of personal attachment?
Emotions flood my body and even deep beneath my rib cage, past those guarded brick walls..
These emotions intensify and I begin to feel this 'love' again.
That's the art of love.
Knowing that one day flowers can begin to grow in the darkest parts of you,
knowing that rare ripples exist in this world that have the ability to create waves of radiance amidst gloomy waters.
knowing that through the vehement sour thoughts of another being wrapped around you, I can still feel an interpersonal connection.
You are the one thing that means absolutely anything,
everything.
I will run my fingers over every part of you, searching for the slightest crack and pour my love into each crevice of your shattered heart.
I will love you recklessly (again),
again, I'll risk loving you wholeheartedly.
Is that the art of love?
The beauty of infatuation?
The allure of love is the desire to keep the memories tattooed to our brains,
the desire to stitch ourselves together, even faster than we're tearing apart.
It's not just a feeling of mere warmth.
The art of love is knowing that when he leaves, the flowers will be plucked as well; knowing that this can happen and still refusing to let that stop you
from pouring love into all disparate crevices despite the possibility of having a barren garden next week.
It is choosing to knit us together when we appear to be crumbling at each seam.
The beauty within love is the ability to incessantly feel even when it becomes too much.
The art of love is the ability to love when even living becomes a difficulty.
-jjss-
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 10:51 AM UTC
People are always
Showing you
What works for them
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 4:38 PM UTC
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Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 10:48 PM UTC