"inverts" poems
Here are two pupils
whose moons of black
transform to cripples
all who look:
each lovely lady
who peers inside
take on the body
of a toad.
Within these mirrors
the world inverts:
the fond admirer's
burning darts
turn back to injure
the thrusting hand
and inflame to danger
the scarlet wound.
I sought my image
in the scorching glass,
for what fire could damage
a witch's face?
So I stared in that furnace
where beauties char
but found radiant Venus
reflected there.
15k
causing those problems that are only self involving
involvement in your own resolve is in no way evolving
evolution has it's own way of science problem solving
solutions are few when new old thoughts keep revolving
revolution is measured by a once around spinning
spin the bottle, kiss your mom, no earth inverts are winning
winners only win when herds of losers start thinning
thin air will carry angry ghosts back to the beginning
begin again to reach the end as the world keeps turning
turn the page you always turn when the book starts burning
burn it all down just as long as it ain't self concerning
concern yourself with you and be the last man left yearning
Sep 27, 2021
Sep 27, 2021 at 8:56 PM UTC
The schoolteacher had an affair in Santa Fe.
She was a schoolteacher and a tourist.
And an affair adds dimension.
It makes a place more than memory.
The notion of it inverts.
Santa Fe now resided inside of the schoolteacher.
The city had a cracked voice and blonde hair
and a slightly sagging belly and pictures
of a New York niece on its phone and
an ambivalent relationship with combing its hair
and an irrational fear of left turns.
She expected young artists with vague academic worldviews,
chainsmokers talking loudly about point of view and Heidegger.
Instead the artists were retirees, painting nothing but landscapes
of red earth, attempting to improve on the natural world.
The schoolteacher did not like this kind of art.
It was trivial.
Wholly unnecessary.
Then the blonde artist walked up behind her
in a stucco gallery. He said, "You hate it don't you?"
"Yes."
She turned. He appeared to be in his early forties.
"Tourists never understand it."
"I'm not a tourist."
"You are. You've never been within the land."
"Don't talk to me like this."
"This is how women prefer to be talked to."
"Not this woman."
"Even you. You want to be told you're wrong.
'I look fat' No. 'Everybody hates me.' That's not true.
I'm skipping the stage where we agree. I'm going
straight to the stage where we are opposites.
Plus and minus."
"The part where we *****
"Or connect or lose ourselves."
"I bet you live in a loft. Dozens of half-finished
canvases strewn about. Dabs of dried paint on
newspapers."
"I live in my big sister's basement. She isn't home."
"There's not enough wine in the world."
"That's where you're wrong," he said.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC
don't let yourself fall in love
with that boy who plays bass
whispers jokes that make your face go red from not being able to breathe
and immediately holds you the day you come back
don't hang onto his every word
nor take note of the way his eyes catch fire
like a sheet of paper over an open flame
every single time he tells you how much he adores to make music
don't let his mannerisms dictate you
when his arms find you on a daily basis
when you ignore the teachings about diffraction and ray diagrams
just to listen to whatever is on his wonderfully, woefully confusing mind
because soon enough
you'll be writing him poems online using a fake name
and staying up till four am
thinking about how his voice cracks and quivers when he sings seven nation army
about how excited he gets to play you something he has written
about the sideways glances he gives you when you try to get his attention
about the places his hands reside every single time he touches you
and about the way his lips tasted like starburst jelly beans and cherry pepsi on that sunny wednesday afternoon
he completely inverts your perception of the world
and now matter how much you want to
don't
fall
in
love
with
him.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
Inside my head I am spat at
by hot saliva that reeks ashes.
My controller is a demon named Shame
who inverts my eyes into their sockets
and curls back my lips slowly for the pain.
My inside head is my straight jacket,
No one can extract me out.
It's infested with cobwebs, crawling with spiders
that lay eggs in my weeping indentations.
Head inside my heart-shaped skull
spins madly like a fast-forward wormhole.
Intricacy and incoherentness staining the walls
as dots of blood speck a butcher's apron.
Inside head my own voice can be faintly heard
inside a cupboard locked thrice,
a cupboard of iron and steel and brick,
squealing, screeching in twisted suffocation.
I was never hit
I was never whipped
But the torture I have endured
Lives like a parasite inside my head.
Mar 5, 2012
Mar 5, 2012 at 8:04 PM UTC
It's a funny thing, being the girl that is only a figment, only a hazy dream.
I am not grounded in reality.
I will twist the memories, those insignificant dates, those looks you gave to me when your face hovered above my own.
I will grant them meaning, I will brush them to the wayside, to the shore, where they can be washed away and forgotten. But the tide comes in and the tide comes out, sure as night and day.
When the digital alarm clock by my bed switches its panels to 10:30 and my heart inverts, I know its time to think of you.
But is it you? Or are you nothing but a hologram blurred by the rain?
The reality is so displaced from the fantasy and where the line blurs, I don't know.
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 12:16 AM UTC
The way the world ends...
All birth a seed of mortality. The reason we come and we go is the same.
Parrots lose speech. Scarecrows attract birds. Zucchinis forget their meaning.
Clay pots yearn for earth. Everything inverts. Love> indifference> dislike.
Melting paragraphs. Pedestrians looking downward. Undelivered mail.
Fruit shrivels into donuts. The fix is in. Short everything. No tomorrow.
Empty Greyhounds ply apathetic Interstates. Nowhere to go. Not magic.
Frames without pictures. *** but motion. Carelessness abounds. No worries.
Cracks in the concrete. Death by delay. Rusted arteries. Repairs unmade.
London Bridge is falling down, falling down
and into the torrent we plummet and drown.
~mce
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 10:57 AM UTC
I come to you.
Unable to lie to myself another moment,
confessing my desires
and you turn me away.
It eats at you.
Thinking you may never see my smile again.
Fighting your demons,
you call out to me.
You run to me.
Passion and doubt tearing down your insides,
goodbye burns in your mouth.
I turn away from you.
I look back to you.
Desperate for one last glance at my hearts true desire
breaking my spirit.
I cry out for you.
You give in to me.
Your world inverts itself as you release your propriety
and abandon all reason.
You give in to me.
I kiss your lips.
Reality melts and we are carried away in a storm
lost in a fierce embrace
I give in to you.
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 6:09 PM UTC
The incessant calm
the roaring silence.
A mystic bell tolls its portent,
and the world uncoils like a spring
and collapses like thunder on a summer day
The shock of cold strikes my muscles,
defibrillating my comatose brain into a primal state
as I feel the water suspend me, if only for a moment
The rushing adrenaline breaks its mental dam and seizes control
My legs a motor in the tides,
my body an arrow from Apollo's bow arcing towards the crystalline surface
I break the barrier into air, it shatters like glass.
And then, I fight, clawing like a crazed animal.
The primal struggle to survive, to battle my existence
to take on the entire world...
collides with my thinking mind at once, as I shrug off the weight of breathlessness
The primal and the intelligent forcing me forward
threatening to rend my body in two!
My world inverts, and does a tipsy dance
The struggle between our dreams and our reality
Our fight and how tired we truly are
Hits me with a wall of realization
I fight on, my fury a mad race to break myself
to surpass the limits I set for myself
and truly see the world
The moment hits, a single tap on the wall an explosion that sends my body reeling
and my mind blinks and returns to its natural state
I breathe new air and clear my head,
yet search as if trying to remember the dream I just awoke from
And the world is a clutter
And the roars are silent
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 3:00 AM UTC
i love the universe-
but she makes my conscience hurt.
she turns me around,
and she pins me down.
it makes me feel like dirt.
i try not to love her,
but she whispers such sweet words.
and when she starts to flirt,
i start to convert,
and it makes it so much worse.
i hate the universe-
she's someone that i don't deserve.
she starts to get manic,
and i turn panic,
and every word starts to sound rehearsed.
she is my universe-
and every time that we converse,
my thoughts turn perverse,
her mind inverts,
and my fragile heart starts to burst.
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 7:30 AM UTC
Day upon day I stroll through my garden
And always do I halt to gaze upon one flower.
To dwell, absorb, adore.
Much of the day's sun spent in focus upon it.
Leaving a watermark upon my mind for the night.
Day upon day I stroll through my garden
And pause to admire my dearest flower
****** expression inverts.
I depart, to continue on without dwelling
To dodge mourning upon the first winter frost.
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 5:22 PM UTC
Thunder cracks across a cloudless sky,
Creatures scamper, crawl, and fly,
The world inverts when you deny
That you were never there.
Waters freeze, and forests burn,
Children cry, and never learn
To guard the truth and love they earn
For when you were never there.
The cosmos is once again aligned
Humans, bleary eyed, emerge to find
There never was a woman so blind
Than to see you when you were never there.
For there was no cloudless sky where thunder roared,
No freezing water, or child crying left unadorned,
Just a boy who took the girl that poared
All the love she had into a heart so flawed,
A heart that was never there.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 4:22 AM UTC
Nurtured since birth,
we see celestial inverts-
flooding the streets with
nothing but nonsense, it seems-
Seeing different colors
as different matter matters only
to the minds eye in a mirror revealing
the real visions of a blind eye-
deep within the depths of the
cataracts is a sense of sight described
like a battle axe-
wisely used on occasion.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 5:31 AM UTC
I like pretending I'm not alone
Tap my head and ask if I'm home
Ignore you, ignore you until you go
Because always and always, the answer is "no".
I'll turn on the radio, I don't own this station
Start spinning words, build-up burnt-down nations
Uncomfortable thinking, move down a level
Until, underneath, my pen's killed my devils.
I like pretending I'm not alone
I like sending words into empty phones
Pretend you don't see, invent your excuse
Nothing's concrete when you're a recluse.
Lie on this mattress, suppose it's not mine
Tonight I'm done telling myself I'll be fine
Only my lines, a partial illusion
Breathing in deep the confusion of fusion.
Him and I we never were
Never will, never wish until you are sure
All princes are frogs and all males mice
Let's go back to third grade when they all had lice.
I like pretending I'm not alone
So easy to be lost in this cast-iron zone
Maybe one day my walls will fall down
When I find the one who inverts my frown.
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 3:39 PM UTC
Your two eyes of blue
with moons of black,
transform into demons
for all who attempt to slither inside.
Each pretty woman
who takes the chance:
beware as you will transform
into a restless demon,
and bring upon your own demise.
Within these glass covered mirrors
the world inverts;
the lovely admirer's attentions
are only abated,
as the demon comes out to ******
darts and hurt.
Unashamed of his actions,
only to pretend sorrow.
This vile creature awaits silently to attack.
Is it trickery or twist of mind,
why the pretense and courtesies offered,
if in the end the outcome is to waiver then attack.
So I sit and stare into those wonderfully crafted holes.
Where kindness abounds,
and suddenly find peace and happiness there,
unaware of when the demon shall unfold.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 2:19 PM UTC
August begins
on a cool breeze
rustling Magdeburg leaves.
Scattered heatwaves
heal beating days
but now back to the stir,
future unknown,
braving it alone
ironically with you.
Aug 8, 2021
Aug 8, 2021 at 3:07 PM UTC
some people pop a tab
and the drug inverts their colors
and smells get stronger
and shapes that aren’t really there make them laugh
some people use acid
and everything terrifies them
and they see demons in the mirror
and they **** themselves before their hallucinations **** them first
some people take the extreme hallucigent
and have a huge revelation
and find their true selves
and completely change after tripping
but i have never tried lsd
because i’m scared that instead of shapes making me laugh, you’ll come back and tell me a cheesy joke that makes me cackle for hours
because i’m afraid that instead of seeing a demon in the mirror, i’ll see you standing behind me and holding my sides like you used to
because i fear than things will still be the same after my trip is over, that you still won’t be with me and we will not have found eachother
Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 7:23 PM UTC
consensus inverts
the logic of rational
decision making
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 8:54 AM UTC