"irritant" poems
“I don't know how to take this
I don't see why he moves me
He's a man, he's just a man
And I've had so many men before
In very many ways
He's just one more“
<•>
ladies
you know ~ I know
these lyrics and the deep cut
and the familiar rut,
they unsecret in our inner chambers
and there is no bandage to
rip off, which/why the cut
never heals
despite your careful care to never
actively seek out the
irritant
but it finds you
in a rom-com
a particular intersection
a advertisement for half zip sweaters
when saying no to a
particular restaurant automatically
and the emotional shake,
not a smoothie,
part horseradish sweet sad,
part bitter herbs, tasteless bread,
spiced with a blend of
angry, self-loathing, regret,
and rage that your emotions
abduct your composure,
and that it still happens
way too often
a pale of regret,
that it was a lost chance,
the kind that come more infrequent,
and you mourn
the building up inside,
an intolerance for risk taking
which once
was your
most favorite
single characteristic
you liked,
about yourself
Dec 21, 2024
Dec 21, 2024 at 3:07 PM UTC
all our little itches come out to play
I eat them aflame as if I were next
I know I am to be
next comestible girl thing
something, irritant beneath your back teeth
and you sit on your sofa and wonder
you fall down my stairs and look up
we sleep by the river and listen
to the frogs and the praying mantis
as they glisten
all that matters
as they walk a certain way
all that wonders
why you and I just
seemed to fade a——way
as I couldn't chew weeds
like the rest of them
as if a dog choke chain we rot
circus familiar to me,
smile like you feel it, baby,
grin as if you are inside those
photo graphs
see clouds of pink paint
descended of you
clouds love me so
love me more than you
I am what I am
a fog of knowing
knowing how you will love me
in your very veins is restful
eases me to sleep a rolling
train way dream each night
midnight wakes me
your name on my lips
I am a dark slick highway woman
moaning like a new birthed bird
I am never going to be yours
but you could borrow me
take all that I am
I will be here sighing,
waiting for the true blue
****** of you
everything we could have been
never leaves us, that’s a myth
we see now, and it has no service
I choose for us a perfect ending
this is my living song
I just forgot
how to sing
really, I thought for once
we nestled in your
head
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 7:20 PM UTC
What we know/
Is far from what
we need to know./
What we need to know/
Is the only thing
That will help us grow./
You ask me
What do we need to know?/
I tell you
The hell if I know./
The whole world
has gone insane./
Our brains are programmed
to erase the obvious stains./
From our vices we never refrain./
Speeding through life
our minds remain slow./
Drinking from a legal bottle/
with a message at the bottom/
that will leave us low. /
To allow our demons
to grow six fold. /
To attack our souls/
with a grip of a choke hold./
Master you. Know you./
Is something that we don't do./
Is something we were never told./
So behold
a world with experiences untold./
A life with no true goals/
to find what it is
That we need to know. /
I search and search and search
for answers with standards/
Deep in the land
of the ********
and the crooked pastors./
Who tell us our obedience
will get us to the kingdom faster./
All this talk of faith/
across the globe
has caused a mental cancer/
because we can't see his face/
and the tired souls can no longer wait. /
What we know/
Is far from what
we need to know./
What we need to know/
Is the only thing
That will help us grow./
You ask me
What do we need to grow?/
I tell you
the hell if I know./
The right question is
what do you need to grow?/
What is it that
makes you whole?/
Is it money?
Is it love?
Is it knowledge of self
found deep in your soul?/
That That gives you goosebumps
from head to toe/
is what lets you know/
you are achieving a true life goal./
No boundaries or rules
should stop you/
from doing what
you need to do./
As long as those actions
do not hinder you/
from doing you./
Paying attention
to the signs of life/
will keep you free from strife/
and far from pain./
Life is no game/ nor irritant
but an experience/ to gain
resilience from the infinite/
powers that be.
Even when that is achieved/
we still should seek/
What need to know/
and what will help us grow/
Because
What we know/
is far from what
we need to know./
What we need to know/
is the only thing
That will help us grow./
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 3:16 PM UTC
Our immediate discomfort always feels so wrong
Aren’t we all meant to get along?
It starts as simply as the set of their jaw
Before long it’s their toneless guffaw
Then their mere presence becomes an intense irritant
And you fight to suppress your instinct to be militant
Forget the initial dislike that began to percolate
Now you fight for control as you hyperventilate
Digging deep for composure you seek compromise
But then you recognise the mutuality of warrior steel in their eyes
You know they know
What to do; step away or let it be so?
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 8:46 AM UTC
Ever since you started following me I realised you are a husk of a soul.
Your mere presence is irritating.
The fact that you're being an irritation bolsters my assessment that you are actually an irritating being.
What's it like to be an irritant?
Not sure.
I know you're being a stimulant.
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 3:37 PM UTC
Life is made of moments
Some might be just a blip
But the whole sum of these moments
Make living life a trip
The big things rule
So some would say
But, not me, oh not me
It's the blips and all the little things
The things I want to see
I need all of the little things
To make my day seem right
I need to hear a snoring sound
When I turn out the light
Having kids is bigger stuff
Than I can list on here
It's little things that I will miss
When my loved one is not near
Like now, I miss the little things
That were part of my routine
With Titan gone and just us two
There's always more poutine
We order less when we go out
there's no one waiting at the stairs
It's nothing but, a little thing
That we miss now he's not there
A simple touch, a friendly word
An irritant at times
But, in life I miss the little things
They make life's mountain worth the climb
Missing friends, their silly jokes
You've heard a hundred times or more
These are just the little things
That I am waiting for
I miss them all, these little things
No matter , just how small
They make my life a treasure
And you know I miss them all
A word, a song, a photograph
A memory it brings
I think of all the larger stuff
But, I miss the little things....
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 11:47 PM UTC
So scratchy I'm squirming
By the sound of your insescent itch
I lay irritated and feeling involved
With the insescent tickle on your torso
As if it were my own skin crawling
With an irritant I can't eradicate
But insist on trying
So still scratching Insescently
I struggle to scratch the itch of numbness
And lay listening to your insistence to persist
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 2:00 PM UTC
My friend
I wish you could know my mind, but
Understanding you would push away
Keeps me from letting you inside
It’s quite the mental irritant
If I get close you’ll grow distant
But even if it’s not your intent,
It’s enough to force my mental defense
And I know you don’t want me to be far
But I can’t get close just to watch you fade.
I’ll stay a phantom
So you don’t have to be one.
Perseverance will not work this time
Because time is in short supply
Departure will soon arrive
Absence will slowly invade my life
Embrace never felt so desperate
Though desperation isn’t a word that fits
No, it’s a quiet determination that makes us stick
An unwillingness to part without this.
I’ll always miss the nights
You were burning in my life
Like the incandescent indigo light
That kept me company when I would write
Every moment slides like a dream.
Your gaze floods me with memory
Our first words float back like a distant melody
Singing all the reasons I’ve ever had to believe in anybody
Your smile brings a strange solace.
Your simple happiness
Is the push behind my lungs as I think all this
It makes you worth the cardiac risk
You won’t read the words I wrote
But somehow I think you already know
As long as my heart beats in this world
You will always have a hand to hold
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 12:24 AM UTC
when I first tried it
on the world
it was a loud incomprehensible
yell
but they came running
pandering to my every need
though sleep deprived and ragged
I was the centre of their life
but as I grew they stopped listening
despite the advancement
of language skills
I became dismissed
an irritant
so it got quieter
reduced to a whisper
May 12, 2023
May 12, 2023 at 1:06 PM UTC
a life saver, a hero
he is the kind of guy
who would take
your mind into his
where star trek exist
and where flowers
grow from the stem
he is the kind of guy
who owns a pair
of real eyes that
enables him to see
the truth
he is the kind of guy
who often goes out for a walk
when he feels depressed
and he wouldn't cease until
the sun is finally setting
despite it all,
he's still breathing
he's still staying alive
under the skin everyone dislike
and he keeps radiating positive vibes
all by himself
six months and i still could not
figure out what does everyone not
see in him that i could
which makes me want
to be around him more
he has a funny mind,
but doesn't everyone?
(we are all just ashamed
to show it for we are afraid
of being an outcast in
society's dictionary)
and though he told me twice
how he finds his system an irritant
i still think that it's
what makes me
attracted to him;
his mind is always a mystery
in the most hilarious kind of way
he, my friend, is the person
who takes my pain away
by just breathing and talking to me
and oh how i wish he could see
how much i am thankful to God
that i met him and his
mischievious little mindset
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 9:38 AM UTC
Around sunset it happened,
While I was sipping coffee from my gilded cup,
Staring through glass at my own reflection,
A virtual image with a hint of refraction.
I remember I frowned
As I saw with dismay a hair out of place,
Curling from my forehead in a tidal wave,
Like the deliberate flick of the coiffured knave.
This won’t do it all, I thought,
Placing my cup with delicacy aside,
Lining up my face within the glass,
Imagining the image this morning past.
I gently nudged the hair aside
Checking that everything else was right,
Turning my head from side to side;
A trifle vain, I don’t need to confide.
While I perused my hair with care,
The light grew beyond the horizon,
A surprise I most heartily confess,
And provided not a little stress.
For I saw the sun set not a moment before,
As I stared at my face and the irritant hair.
It usually goes down to the west, don’t you know.
It flashed in my eyes like the white glare of snow.
Thankfully I wear my sunglasses at night,
But it didn’t protect me at all that well.
I cursed at the light as it lanced through my eyes,
It pierced through my soul and unraveled my lies.
The ascending rumble began, shaking the walls,
Cracking the glass, reflections recursed.
The first shake of God’s great roar never stopped
As the towers of Babel shivered and dropped.
The last thing I saw before I met you
Was the rise of the flame racing the wind.
As I was consumed, I noticed the wings
Of the angel of death and the end of all things.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 7:17 AM UTC
They'll stop dead in traffic
to let someone out in front
without true understanding
or comprehension
of what they're really doing
and what everything
is about
The endorphins and the good feeling
believing a good deed was done
senses elated and reeling
hurting the many
for one
Remember all those behind you
having paid their rations, their due
slowed as an irritant
irking their patience
brought to a crawl now
by you
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 12:14 AM UTC
hate gets such a bad rap
I hate popcorn kernels in my teeth
they are more than an irritant
outside of the simple terminology:
“dislike”
“negative feelings”
or
“makes me sad”
no, I hate them
so much so I refuse to eat popcorn
caramel-coated
buttered flavored
spicy southwest seasoning
can **** ***** if sprinkled
on corn
dried and popped –
when I think of 130 military bases
spread across this entire globe
infecting cultures
with American ideology
so that our corporations can make more money
while simultaneously gaining ownership
over sovereign peoples’ resources
only to then sell those same resources back to the original owners
again, simply for the profit margin
hate fills my veins
I clinch my fists
and pound the table
I scream at the injustice
while wearing Nikes –
hate is pure
raw and real
it is the reverse to every love and joy
it is the counter to each peace and harmony
without it, who could truly know
balance –
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
The right eye I avoid blinkin',
There is a new irritant therein,
But harmless compared to the killer,
The killer roamin' here an' there,
Thousands of faces she always had,
And she dons one or the other,
Kills by the name of the lover.
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 1:15 AM UTC
Course brown fibers of burlap
woven together years prior
rub against weather beaten neck
sometimes shrugged off
sometimes an irritant
pressed by
weight of a bag filled with rice
at times
to heavy to bear
but a small hole
unnoticed
where single grains slide free
to fall into the dust of the track
where they are mixed with dust
and are only noticed by birds
which carry them away
forever
bearer and bag sway, rise and fall
together
as the journey forward goes
each step
each sway
frees kernels from the confines
now in twos and threes
then a steady pour
from shoulder to ground
the hole is noticed
nothing can stem the flow
the bag grows lighter
but sags against back and chest
and is harder to hold
it slides from the shoulder
carried in arms like a small child
inevitably
the last of the grains falls free
glistening white
falls end over end
gleaming in the sun
and is lost with the others
the burlap is empty
the weight and toil is missed
words of anguish
and
the empty sack
is laid in the sea
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 11:20 AM UTC
Tessellation & Interstices
**”A tessellation or tiling is the covering of a surface,
often a plane, using one or more geometric shapes,
called tiles, with no overlaps and no gaps…In mathematics, tessellation can be generalized to higher dimensions and a variety of geometries.”**
the insistent need to be distinguished
means many are not,
indeed,
this hunger
to be an influencer
and never just an influencé.
creeply creates a linear surface,
a flooring to be trod upon,
a tessellated plane,
were we each fit in
right-tight juxtaposition
and we are noticeable for our
uniformity and
the scuff marks of having been trod upon,
well used.
it is in the chips of irregularities,
the overlaps and the gaps
where we touch and connect
with our individual Ah Ha’s,
where our Venn Diagram Lives
intersect, infect, interfere, inject,
in the tiny
interstices
tween us,
the jagged, irritatingly edgy
rubbings
that the friction of creativity
is comedically inseminated.
I love a good tense sweat,
that invasive, deep boring burring,
that demands
instant creative solutions lest the angst of
an unwritten-in-the-moment-poem
is even more annoying,
before it is annoyingly,
befogged, lost forever.
that is why with old age,
fearsome fast
short term memory loss,
some turn to the speedy freedom of
free verse,
unconstrained by socks
and well fitting shoes,
and the slip on sneakers
of rhyming,
so insistent on perfection,
that the
burr is absorbed,
the irritant rubbing is creamed away,
and that loss of
a pouring of the soul’s *********** of
Done!
is
our exclamatory mutual curse
Mar 23, 2024
Mar 23, 2024 at 10:26 AM UTC
The Kleptomaniac sat in his stolen smoking jacket
Disregarding all the trifling troubles of the world
And plotting his next lofty move
The Urchin rolled down his window
And screamed his head off about Manifest Destiny
In the Sahara
The two met at the airport
A rift in fate
They were both subjected to a pat down search
The Urchin attempted to interject
The Kleptomaniac saw him as an irritant who should just keep his mouth shut, yet respected his bold brashness
The Urchin saw the Kleptomaniac as a person on the right track
Someone of substance
He wanted to simulate
Emulate
Imitate
Everything he was
They were both the biggest all star losers at their all time low winning at having the two longest losing streaks ever
Inglorious
They traded numbers
But never spoke again
Even though they knew the phone worked both ways
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 7:28 PM UTC
lately i have been punching walls. hoping i won’t go and fall. I don’t want to go back. nothing is working, not even the Prozac... i feel like an experiment... giving me this new medication, im getting irritant... ive been getting mad easily.. hurting people, repeatedly... im thinking about giving up on friends... everything always ends... im starting to push people away... the depression is getting to me everyday..
nevermind... ill save this for A rainy day...
Dec 20, 2017
Dec 20, 2017 at 1:33 AM UTC
Reading but nothing is going in,
Pain started in cervical it's getting tough to breathe in,
Eyes up to the ceiling,
Head relaxed on chair by body started loosing,
Loosing consciousness I don't know what time it was,
I can't move not able to talk even,
Too much silence is all around my dad came in & started screaming,
My name again and again but I couldn't respond,
Feels like no blood is going through brain it's ****** out or drawn,
I was able to hear the all,
My dad came near and picked me,
My legs and hands were hanging ,
They were swinging,
Motor bike was already outside ,
He settled me on it someone hold my loose **** sapiens structure from behind,
I was feeling the momentum; bike was running fast,
Someone was calling me along with I remember the sound of running cars,
Busses; in short the traffic was around,
Don't know how long I was there,
Suddenly I started feeling pressure above chest, A irritant liquid going down via nose.
My so approximate dead body woke up from rest, Everything was clear I was in a hospital,
Two doctors were around me; one of them holding a mini sized bottle, At that time chest pain and headache was hitting hard,
Doctor was taking to my dad and uncle ,
I was on the bed thinking what was the trouble,
After twenty to thirty minutes I was discharged, Dad bought me a chocolate bar,
It was one of the weird life experiences and duration time was about a hour.
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 1:28 PM UTC
You're not floating around the constellations.
You're knee-deep in cold, dank mud.
The walls around you peel
and the clock's batteries have died.
In a minute there is time
to do nothing but wait.
I'm a fly in the space between your skull and your brain.
I'm that tickling feeling and that restless irritant.
The grass around you grows
and you begin to lose your sight.
In a minute there is time
to decide whether to take a bite
and spit me out
or let me lay my eggs.
You were born at midnight between two years,
as the moon reflected the world opposite.
In a minute there is time
to create a division between two entities.
In a minute there is time
to change what would be into what is.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 6:50 PM UTC
I've wished I was a boy my whole life.
To get respect without demanding it.
To walk in a room and be part of the club.
To not be seen as an outsider, an irritant.
I loathed that I was treated differently.
I worked my entire life to get here,
believing that it would get better
with the fancy title and, finally, the career.
Now, I've made it. Yet, I still have to demand:
To be seen. To be CC'd on emails. To not be
excluded. Do you know how difficult it is
to have the right title, but not the right genitalia?
You can be competent, intelligent,
the smartest in the room.
But if you aren't the ideal gender,
You're just a pretty face in costume.
Dec 14, 2023
Dec 14, 2023 at 4:54 PM UTC
I wanted to toss
something,
I wanted to feel
your body
like
palm prints
on my windowshield.
Write
"I HATE YOU"
all over me.
I can take it.
I've got thick skin,
but my heart
is shallow;
you could touch
it
before your fingers
grace
the pleather
of my backseat.
I fake it alot.
Some girls think I'm macho as ****
but really,
at my creamy center
I **** them
like they are splinters.
Just trying to get it out.
So let's back out.
What's a splinter
to a whole human?
Nothing.
Nothing but an irritant
that itches,
when the computer
is on a high-wire
glitch
and these girls climb telephone poles
thinking
they're fixing
me.
When really you've boled
a hole
in everything
and climbing poles
gets them farther
from my core.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 11:01 PM UTC
twitching muscle above my right eye
signifying stress and unexplored options
reminding me that something sits, unresolved
bouncing as a child in an inflatable wonderland
neurotic nerve-ending, ending my peace
pieces of broken mirror lay at my unshod feet
maximizing rage, a scream passes chapped lips
spittle gathering at the corners
while lunacy takes hold
10,000 scenes pass by my inner-eye
each with its own special irritant
seeking to disrupt the easy-going nature
put forth by sandals and elastic-waist(ed) short pants
wasted years bothered by triviality
sitting wasted, wasting my time
and that of the government agency
which employees this sorry ***
gassed in class passing with class
recoiling from the derailment
I try to regroup
but the short pants line
has the tears too thick to type
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC
Ask me what a True Friend is,
Without knowing it, I was describing you.
Yes you're weird,
I'm weird.
We're weird.
But it's hard to find irritant when emotion backed up so logically.
You're a Grounder.
No ******** accepted,
Sympathy when needed.
Sound Advice offered.
Always listened,
Always supported.
Never noticed.
But you're still here,
Astounding no effort required.
It's nice to know someone's always there.
No matter how much time may pass.
A silent support system
That can always become loud.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 9:47 PM UTC
what is it that i am looking for
what is that convulses my mind so
i don’t know, I just don’t know
yet I keep on searching for something
something i know not what
it is in the words, i know it is in the words
it demands a recognition,
perhaps it is an illusion of complex
temporal simultaneity that plays
upon my reason but what is it
that delivers a thousand shivers
and colors from everywhere and nowhere
is it the blank spot that enters my consciousness
bringing temporarily bright blackness
the blindness one receives if
engaged in an over prolonged look at the sun
is it the inner workings of my mind
trying to free some irritant that
has intended to punctuate my thinking
without permission
an attempt to perplex
this new apostasy
that incubates within
yet a confusion hangs suspended
Of this blank spot, this nothingness,
this void of inarticulate reality that
exaggerates its intentions to consummate
a separation but never succeeds in its completion
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 6:42 PM UTC