"irritations" poems
Nobody clams up over the right things
Flecks of dirt won't make beautiful ever
But those enormous irritations you take with a grain of sand
I tuck those things away
For a long while
It is against my nature to do so
It is awkward to keep salty things on the tip of one's tongue
Without spitting them out
Oh, I long to swallow
How much longer must I be closed up, love?
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 4:45 AM UTC
<•>
For A:
The Pleasure of Infection
10:53 pm
our all about
is to be the whittler of our personage,
to both hold the knife with care,
but with risky, reckless artistry,
as we shape of what raw materials we are possessed,
into our own reshaped, reformed
most prized bejeweled possession
never mind the shavings and cutaways fallen,
they are fast away, castaway choices made and cannot be retrieved,
for when we whittle, whether our shape desired
which may be prior envisioned or a vision
from the discovery of performing,
they matter no more,
let them go, in their absence too,
they are part and a whit of you,
but not of you, no longer
our commonality in this: everything,
in everything else, so little
but your honesty and crafted, almost dishonesty both ring true,
and infect us with pleasure of recalling
when we
being cut designed and preparing our statue for
an unveiling, but with no date yet set,
and the loveliness of our mistakes,
were precious do-over opportunities
seek out the infection, the infection of discovery,
the risk of pleasure exposed and
your poetry may be either
the antibiotics
when the result is red and unpleasant,
or a celebration,
an invitation to us to be a
semi-silent beholder of your artistry
infections heal after pain and discoloration
but new skin always forms,
but at a different pace for each of us
I see the faces in my carpet nodding agreement,
"always new skin"
oh boy. time to go to bed
go seek out the pleasure of infection,
sadly, happily, it is the only way
good night
from an old man who dreams and schemes of
new skin nightly
but never mind me,
my piece long ago writ
and in need of just a tweak here and there,
call it one too many close shavings,
his poem's treasure trove,
a list
of life's minor irritations
and major lifts
<•>
11:16pm
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 11:36 PM UTC
It was the type of day Wellington is infamous for:
rain slanting into the pursed and puckered faces
of harried pedestrians
and I, out and about with my secret
that in the tall towers where the wheels
grind slowly
a thing not made of commerce
a growing not spurred by market forces
an investment not subject to whims and crises,
but a spark ignited by two people
laying themselves open to love
and hope and dreams and
schemes sometimes lost sight of,
was fanning the flame,
the head, heart, flesh, bone and wairua
of a life
taking root in my beloved's belly,
a life long longed for
a life
whose existence sweeps before it all petty irritations
and affixes itself on my face
as a big stupid grin
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 7:02 PM UTC
I like the curves of your shoulders and the strength in your spine.
I like the softness in your lips but the roughness in your hands.
I like the sparkle in your eyes and the sarcasm in your smile.
I like the pieces of you that you hide away under layers of thick skin.
The sadness you try to hide when you bite your lip and look left.
The laughter you feel when you shake your head and glance down.
The irritations you know when you roll your eyes up and to the right.
I like those things more than you'll ever know. But the things I love about you could never be explained in poetry.
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 3:06 AM UTC
Winged migration
to flee from migraine
irritations:
I was the shadow
of the waxwing slain,
flung and flew through
wire flues on the roofs
To be some happier
glove, not on hand
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
Perplexed.
As I looked into his eyes, replaying the conversation in my mind...over and over again.
Studying his mouth curvature and ****** expressions, change from confidence to bewilderment. As I confronted his most recent "story".
Stumbling over words, not even remembering his own storyline, it all came to a head.
It's all a fog. The last 11 months of my life.
A tangled web of fulfillment..loss..love..pain..a seeming friendship..laughter..hurts..euphoria..
..Lies..love making..confiding..trust..deceit..
half truths..embellished stories..frustrations..
Anxiety..joys..thrills..adventures..irritations..charm..
Dream making..intense loneliness.
He built walls...constructed of flowers, love notes, thoughtful gifts, candle lit baths with rose petals and love songs...all in hopes to keep me within the realm of his safety lines.
He lied to make me love him..I lied to myself into believing it was all real.
When lies become your reality..nothing stands against it..not even..the Truth.
Now I sit. Alone. In the center of the shambles of what we fabricated, fallen at my feet.
Eyes opened. Accepting the reality. Weaving through the confusion.
Hope in the unknown..the sun still continues to rise..hearts heal and Love still exists.
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 1:33 AM UTC
Holding my breath so I can take control.
Feelings unrest, I can’t seem to grow.
Problems unsolved, it’s an overload.
Losing my mind right before I explode.
I said I’m foretold to be the truth.
Swear an oath, but it didn’t bare any roots.
At any given moment one could lose his youth. Don’t know who he is cause he wears another mans boots.
Walking irritations, bearing all the earnings of their fruits.
Limits are escalating and I’m tarring down the roof.
A Course to deviation, unable to see any other routes .
Blind to temptations.
The struggle fits me like a suit.
Holding my breath so I can take control.
Feelings unrest, I can’t seem to grow.
Problems unsolved, it’s an overload.
Losing my mind right before I explode.
Time is deteriorating, everyday life of a destitute.
Waters are evaporating and I’m thirsty for whatever’s absolute.
Problems eternally materializing, full of sorrow and solitude.
Emptiness continuously multiplying, like a disease it pollutes.
Visions are tremendously horrifying, wishing to **** the sound and become a mute.
The story’s are ultimately glorifying, ghoulish torment and Chaos to distribute.
Nothing but hesitation.
Loneliness overtaking, going through all these hoops.
Screams are instantly mesmerizing, the ending is what They Pursue.
Holding my breath so I can take control.
Feelings unrest, I can’t seem to grow.
Problems unsolved, it’s an overload.
Losing my mind right before I explode.
Dec 31, 2020
Dec 31, 2020 at 2:32 AM UTC
Reinventing myself again
Im not meant to be a step dad
Over dating girls who have a child
Cutting ppl out I seen them as awesome
Too bad they **** and sti k on stuff they can't change
Ive begged and pleaded no one listens
Mad at me over some girl who dont want you
Girls who dont take me serious but get mad once im over them
Ive never been one to kiss *** I did what I can to make it right
You cant let go that's on you
I apologized you can't forgive thats on you
By rejecting my apology I took it as go **** yourself
I thought how maybe its my fault but I dont deserve to be treated like ****
Dating ***** getting to know all the wrong ppl
Id rather be alone then stressing over being with someone who dont love themselves
Never emotionally available when I find them attractive
It ***** when I make my way no one care or believes in me
Ive been angry and jealous I go out if my way and nothing
I know ppl who dont try and blessed for days
Im working for mine
Putting in time to better myself
I never think anyone is better than me just different
I can have any girl just have to be confident
Im use to reject the think that mind rapes me is when a person completely changes on you.
Thinking one way but acting another way
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
when I’m this drunk
and you’re a thousand
miles away
I miss the plenary version of you
everything that you are
and all that I perceive you to be
why aren’t you here with me
I want to stop giving up
I want to just do it
I want to love you completely
with all that I am
and with no reservations
because when you’re
a thousand miles away
I know that the daily
irritations and influences
that detract from our
utter (what an ugly word) and complete
devotion to one another are
just that
distraction and irritations
the insecurities and the self-defeating
effects of life are nothing
when I have this much whiskey in me
I know that my love for you
is real
more real than Paris for Helen
more significant than
Romeo for Juliet
I love you as I love the
heart and lungs
in my own breast
without you I am bereft of a
vital *****
necessary for life
for existence
when I am this drunk
I don’t make sense
but I know
more truly than I know my name
that you are
essential
and that I love you
always
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 12:43 AM UTC
*A support you were
Always to me
Took all the pressure
Out of rocky edges
And never told anyone
How it was to be!
Not understanding you
Was a blunder of all
I wish I could undo it
Once & for all!
Keep no hard feelings
As I'm already being punished
from being away from you!
So much away
that it makes me feel
going to an empty nest
Every other day.
I wish I could
make you understand
that how you meant to me
With all the irritations
and leg-pulling
You made me cry
You made me laugh
To the brim!
I wish I could do
something for you
To return back
all the treasures
you gave to me!
Be in touch people say
But in this era
Touch is only at screens!
Time passes by
And every wound heals,
But to an extent
An empty space in the heart
Is never reciprocated!
-13 July, 2017*
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 3:51 AM UTC
The recent lockdown certainly made family the center of everything - from fun to daily irritations. But after a month of being at college - which I know, objectively, isn’t long - those memories seem like echoes from another life.
I love the sudden privacy college has provided - like I’ve personally rediscovered something seemingly new.
I get calls from high school friends who were close as skin a few short weeks ago and there seems to be a disconnect which certainly isn’t because they’ve been “replaced” with new friends.
I’ve always been slow to mesh with new people so I’m trying hard to look engaged in social situations. “Get OUT there and meet people!”, everyone tells us. So I’m working on it - practicing my best fake, friendly smile in mirrors for when deep down inside I want to run.
At least I’ve hit it off with one of my suite-mates, Leong (thank god). She‘s from Macao, China (the “Las Vegas” of Asia) which is about 41 miles from where my family used to live in Shenzhen. When I started talking to her in Cantonese she shrieked with joy - now we can evaluate everyone and everything with delightful discretion.
My classmates are SO smart that classes move really, REALLY FAST.
“Everyone got that?” the professor says, no frantic hands waived “Moving ON!”
If I daydream for 30 seconds - I come back and - “WAIT, huh? - what are we talking about?” It’s not like high school at ALL - it’s actually scary.
So I’m moving on.
Sep 29, 2021
Sep 29, 2021 at 11:11 AM UTC
Blindly I write these words
trying to find a rhythm
that can cure my head
of this verse infected syndrome.
No luck, only irritations
the syllables won't take shape
only rearrange themselves
and fall back into place.
The thought blurs a little
before the eye inside my mind
the contact lens of perception
creases & tears with time.
Can't seem to find the footing
that lets my pen walk on the white
teeter on the blue lines
and space the words just right.
Simple A B C B scheme
four lines before it's complete
stood up to the best of me
but still I can't compete .
Conception of a masterpiece
that will never have an end
only the idea of a finished product
that I've created with my pen.
Nov 8, 2010
Nov 8, 2010 at 10:24 PM UTC
Mum said be a doctor, but no
I didn't like school, glad to go
I became a mechanic instead
It caught my heart in 10th grade
I could do better in life, compared
To my grades, my life is made
I prefer a simple life
Where my biggest problems are finding the bolt that just fell down into a void
Where my daily irritations are losing a spanner or socket
My worst encounters would be a client that insists on knowing the problem
My best moments would be spending time with friends and family
My best days would be vacations
I don't want to be a doctor
And worry about a cancer patient
Or huge accident coming in
I don't want to be irritated by nurses or patients that don't listen
I don't want my worst encounter to be losing someone's life
I don't want my best moments to be having expensive things to show off
I definitely don't want my best days to be going home and sleeping early
Sep 30, 2020
Sep 30, 2020 at 3:57 PM UTC
Everyone hopes their dreams to become real,
But this girl’s aspiration to reach her goals is surreal.
With eyes full of ambition and will to do anything with zeal,
She started the journey with all support and unreal.
Mankind said her desired was a waste of time,
And longing for an ordinary life was not a crime.
She stayed true to her intentions,
Although the time-line was yearning for irritations.
The girl has finally reached her destination,
With a lot of claps and appreciation.
Wishes and struggles are part of being alive,
But a beautiful life is what your actions drive.
Jul 29, 2023
Jul 29, 2023 at 8:49 PM UTC
Mum has 15 drags on her cigarette.
The first drag, trying out for the first time,
the second drag, presenting friends into your relaxation.
The third drag, everything is calm,
the fourth drag, you realize it has to stop.
The fifth drag, small remarks become big irritations,
the sixth drag, you are disgusted because the remarks are true.
The seventh drag, just another one wouldn’t hurt,
the eighth drag, what’s the point of quitting now?
The ninth drag, your breath doesn’t smell quite the same,
the tenth drag, you hide underneath your coat.
The eleventh drag, you feel slowed down without,
the twelfth drag, yet your doctors say it’s better off without.
The thirteenth drag, you begin to wheeze,
the fourteenth drag, you collapse to the floor.
The fifteenth drag isn't really the final drag at all,
you’ll smoke a million cigarettes, more and more,
but it only seems to you as 15 more?
The fifteenth drag is finally taken,
Mum has lung disease, I am a failure.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
.
fortune have i amongst friends today
for giggles
we're playing 'dress up' as shadows
we assign ourselves each an adult target
then we race brazen missiles at strangers
and induce connections
.
aligning with their moves
magnetized fish children facing rival reflection
then toes to their heels in glad dance mime
flapping about to mate
with their actions and irritations
.
they try to dog shake us loose
they clamour and parade
run at us snapping
hiss anger and fail to evade us
our sapping
and they become bone-weird and depleted
our mad energetic spell
.
we’ve exhumed away their humour
and they've given over the fight
the light
that little furnace
a beady l.e.d. clips off
then we the shadows are guide
and we’ve taken over strings on kite
we have won our somnolent zombie slaves
we could ride them like a mule
and feed them their own stool
...if it best pleased us
.
Sep 21, 2025
Sep 21, 2025 at 5:35 PM UTC
Scratching off my skin and digging my eyes out.
The cracks branch off at the corners, swollen and puffy.
A busted lip, some pills, and a drink to help me relax.
Didn't work.
Little levies break now and then to spill small kernels of my locked up consciousness, then retract back in on itself.
Functional.
Motions, actions, procedures.
Pushing through the grime towards the bathtub.
Through the haze typing delicately to oneself.
Giggle.
Glorify yourself.
Lose your voice in explanation of everything except the important parts, the parts they already secretly know.
The stomach churns, sudden twinges pierce all the muscles.
Conversations swim about other things.
The oncoming memories, the irritations of daily life.
Just being here.
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 2:59 AM UTC
The secret of love,
Of remaining together...
Is not what everyone supposes.
It is not always the bringing of gifts,
The candlelight dinners
Or bouquets of roses.
After the bloom is off
these loving flowers,
Irritations and troubles arise.
There are clashes
Over little things.
And lovers forget
The vows they made so easily,
Violating them with anger.
Old resentments from the past
Rise up to poison with enmity,
The nearness that will not last.
Those with wisdom shun these fights,
The sad agony of lonely nights,
Lying awake and wondering
If love still exists, or if one matters,
To the other, if one cares at all.
Over time, self-protection grows,
And the lover builds a rancorous wall
Where weeds choke sunlight from the rose
And the other cannot hurt you.
But the play still goes on,
Like a song that still repeats,
Over and over unnoticed.
And a pantomime of caring
Begins to form, with hollow smiles
And half-hearted promises.
The Rose now lists against the wall,
Pale and tamed, like a common plant,
A vegetable in a kitchen garden.
And lovers expect passion
From a dreary fruit like this?
But once in a thousand times,
Deep roots that began long ago,
Giving rise to the first flower of love,
Last beyond boredom, thirst and drought.
Thorns pierce their hearts through the wall,
Bringing tears of surprise and recall.
The lovers find after the rain:
They have what they have sought.
And that which they sought is all.
Summer 2018
Dec 10, 2018
Dec 10, 2018 at 1:41 PM UTC
First find someone you enjoy *** with.
Spoiler alert it might be yourself.
Second, absence is a bit of a relief.
Minor irritations are glue like.
Third is roughness. It's a spectrum.
Don't be afraid of it and don't be cruel.
Forth and most important is humour.
What does Charles Dickens keep in his spice rack?
The best of thymes, the worst of thymes.
So there you have it.
Life is easy.
Eat pickles as often as you can.
Oct 29, 2023
Oct 29, 2023 at 11:47 AM UTC
a long slow exhale sends my med of choice swirling around the candlelit room
everything comes down half a step and a smooth calm surfaces
irritations fade and the Wu bumps me free
thin smile passes across my eyes as shoes tumble
little tan Pit rolls over and sniffs the cloud
leans partly against me and partly against the soft brown couch
both of us stare off into space
eyes glazed
fully medicated –
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 4:03 PM UTC
What do theologians call a life without events?
The lights of my prison-like room dawn before sun's first blush.
I open sand-papery eyes as my AI announces the morning.
I begin the puppetry of morning routines:
I study my pale inmate face as I polish the porcelain.
I look less of a drowsy-angel than a zombie as I splash cold water
on the face with an almost determined lack of expression.
I’m absorbed in an ocean of predawn cold
as I 5-mile-walk away my sleepiness - this small freedom
- keeps me fit and acceptably sane.
Later, bathed in hot indifference,
and clothed in exhausting obligations,
I dine, at my reserved table, with my gang of irritations.
Soon I’m ready for another taxing day
of waiting for the disease to run its course.
Jan 18, 2021
Jan 18, 2021 at 5:16 AM UTC
My bodies weak, my mind tormented
Demons crept in destroyers infested
My soul grew cold, I was told before
To stay away, I didn't listen & lost vision
Now I'm here all alone, in a war zone
Harassing on the avenue, irritations grew
Evil minded people, holding me down
Psychological forms of deception
It's a windy road today, coping day by day
Hoping I leave this ugly world one day
My eyes light brown, lighting thunder
Were made for you, to shine your time
To bring up your spirit, to bring you to life
To bring you closer to his light,
I guess that was the toughest fight,
But I fought the devil with all my might
To bring you a clear sight, in truths delight
The world has taken me under,
Broken through my vest, and armor
Snatched the love I cherishly harbored
Now I'm tore up, beat up, can't pick up
My only wish for you, keep shining light
Keep living, give testimony, bright ceremonies
In his name, never be ashamed,
He put this immense love I have for you
Deep in my heart, don't know why?
But he did, and it hurts me,
Yet it worked in me, grew in me,
Made me stronger, my heart said
I belong to her, you're my sound track
My goofy, silly kick back, my smiles
My nervous breakdown, you know
You felt the same get down,
I wanna feel you in my veins
Like rain soothing all this pain
I'm doing my best to disarm
All the wicked world incriminating
Discriminating against to harm
Stay safe and sound, I only desire
One person to be the mother of my child
A divine being my creator blessed me with
There's no one else in this world
I want, desire, need but you
I wish you the best, a life from you
Would bring a never ending bliss
Believe me, please don't deceive me
I've come this far, kept locked in my heart
If it's not a bonding love from above
Tell me please, here, now, today, tomorrow
Asap so I won't lead myself blind
And keep searching but never truly find
What I once thought was mine...
I'll always be your thunder protecting you,
Loving you, guarding you, saving you, helping you, assisting you, mending you, repairing you, recovering you, enlightening you, through god and sincerity, honesty, love and respect,
Yours truly,
Forever
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
I uncurl from the ball
get out of bed and
totter off
down the hall into
the kitchen
in which in
I look for something
but I forgot
to jot that something down
Now
I look and feel just like
a clown.
no laughter
after all
I could have stayed in bed
curled in a ball.
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 1:25 AM UTC
Sticky
I crossed your darkend path
And felt how …
sticky you were.
Roped with irritations
Everything… just clinging.
I watched you
Unknowingly chase
The tail that is your own
Amused..
Like a juvenile.
Unable to shed
your malignancy
…of choice
Everything is your trigger
Clock waits… loudly.
********* blame
You remain..
Wide eyed
Looking for reason
To explain affect.
The presence of you
Films me..
I step away..
And brighten.
Tf 2/2016
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 10:48 PM UTC
I.
"Rip it off."
A mother tells a child
"If it itches, scratch it."
"If its ugly, replace it."
The end of skin.
II.
Love at first sight is reserved for the Bones.
III.
The irritations of the skin have become unbearable. My arms are bare. I want my skin to be the skin of another. Our hidden hides prevent contact.
IV.
"Good ridens"
I see a band-aid on the sidewalk.
I see a burned man sans skin-graph.
I saw beauty, but she was plastic.
V.
There is an epidemic of the epidermis.
We need honesty, but all we get is skin; the ugly forefront of the truth.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 12:28 AM UTC