"isolations" poems
Hit the gym hard
Squats for legs strengthen those quads
Bench press for chest gets the pump
Hit it right make it tight
Isolations with dumbbells
Form is everything
More reps with less weight
Maxs out test of strength
Heavy weight less reps
Finish strong last set
Stretch to warm up
Stretch to cool down
Cardio for the heart rate
Gym time best time
Progress body change
Mind set ready for more
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 4:32 AM UTC
I sat outside on the dock,
took in the aroma of the fresh sea air.
I felt as if the water was hugging me and embracing my loneliness.
I just sat there, listening for something, anything, just a sign that I won't be isolated forever.
I closed my eyes and pictured happiness.
What a cliché. What the **** is happiness anyways?
I guess I have to face reality, the scary and horrendous thing that is inevitably my life.
What escape do I yearn to achieve you ask?
It's rather simple actually.
Ultimate freedom
The freedom to, and the freedom from.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 11:28 PM UTC
-Studying car lights from outside- an automobile's slow flash-
Primary colors of headlight reflections, flirt in their dance-like dash.
Here I sit in the back of my van, in the corner on the side of the street; I've been right here since 5pm, how the hours lapse with deceit. Its been just over 5 full hours that I've been paralyzed in this seat; Now as it's pushing 10pm, documented my defeat:
I'm more than done with this pit of fear,
overcome the paranoid gap,
all I need is to now pause, re-evaluate
Exiting this trap.
To wrap it up in this conclusion
To iterate the hours ceaseless delusion
Is to redefine isolations inherent seclusion- with confidence, strength-
dispel illogic's confusion.
Sep 7, 2024
Sep 7, 2024 at 3:17 AM UTC
Confined to the minds barrels,
trapped inside four white, wooden walls
that wash me with light;
creating eternity. An eternity
where your face is forced forth
with splintered teeth, wood grain whispers.
Air evades my lungs
breathing in, panic, locked
away. To stay and rot. My tongue
may become a meal; I don’t need words in here.
This chambers grand design
is an endless emptiness.
My mind’s faced with this shameless
white graceless space which
aggravates my dark creativity.
This great sin in me is great and willing me
to spill the hate hidden deep.
The rays rebound perpetually. The silence
perplexes me. Perplexes me. The silence
confined to the double barrels.
Your face, perpetually, stretching its imprint
across these walls. Blurring, screaming terror.
Eyes open, burning, comfort in the darkness
learning the eyelids inner charms.
Not the vastness. Eyes open. Terror.
Tear away these fantasies;
isolations imagination identifies with my demons.
The blank space is filled with cacophonies,
agony, smiles in the emptiness stretch beyond capacity. Silence.
Whispers, these wood grain whispers splinter my eardrums.
No matter how I try to pick (axe) them out,
this imaginary pencil doesn’t dig deep enough.
I hear no calligraphy. No beauty
finds me in here, this box of light
holds my plight and creates a world where I know no night.
I hold no right, I cannot wrong,
there’s nothing left, I hold no rite,
there’s no day to escape for sleep,
no knight to bring me dreams, no left to take me to the right place,
I am so bereft of time. Am I dead?
Dying? Lying here in wait, lying to myself,
declining in health. Declining life.
The silence is hexing,
dissecting each piece of what’s left of me.
The canvas screams, it wants to know my nightmares,
to feel their bloodied paint on its flesh.
I’m the worm in the water.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
With a broken pencil upon
tear stained pages, scratching out
thoughts detailing lost ages.
Immune to academic scorn
creating words fitting new forms,
sewing new dimensions.
In the world where writers ink can be
shaded by isolations bleak stagnation,
my sorted letters find stained pages.
Ajerry 11-7-13
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 8:58 AM UTC
basketball isn't just a game
it's a passion
like rap isn't music
it's a fashion
simple rhymes turn to magic
like simple shots turn to baskets
plays turn to passing isolations
drives the lane, put it up,
against the guy your facing
it all comes down to having pacience
if you dont
no matter how good you are
your game needs maintenance
crooked shots you need to straighten it
bad pass you need to aim that ****
throw it like you aim to miss
May 11, 2010
May 11, 2010 at 1:36 PM UTC
i seek a fresh page
on which i may be written
a new palate upon which the landscape
of this soul may be inked
i dreamt
i stand here on the edge of night
looking out over the vast empty parking lot
of some nameless something-mart
a single piece of paper walks with a slow wind across
the desert of pavement
i turn and leave
walking down a tree lined street
only streetlights and silent empty cars
only the night noise of suburbia
a television sound of gunfire and laughter
a dog whispering loudly of his intents to be free
of whatever chain that binds him to his unfriendly fate
i walk for hours it seems
marvelling at the stillness of suburbia's intense isolations
walking from pool of streetlight to pool of streetlight
i finally come to a stop benith one
silence
nothing beyond this place is real
i ask aloud of the meanings of these things
and a friends voice from a long ago conversation
says "one of these things are not like the others..."
and he fades away back into the past
and he takes the dream with him
i wake slowly
to the sounds of a empty apartment
i walked out on my lover
i am alone
it is not a dream
and one of these things is just like all the rest
of the things that don't fit in round holes
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 10:15 PM UTC
unendurable, long and exhausting
are the pains
presumptuous like appeals
from a jaded pulpit
such as they are, are powerless
a passage from a discarded tract
such are these pernicious pains
that swarm in a slivering hiss
upon dark and lurking shadows
aesthetically applauding themselves
as they push here and there
in their wounding commentary
of painful narrative
agonising enough to reduce
the soul to debilitating bouts
of disagreeably damaging experience
with startling exaggerations
that produce disgraceful extortions
upon mind and body
squandering unbearable isolations
fragmenting the cracks
in a delicate structure of personality
uprooting it from a sanctified paradise
providing instead a monstrous, shameful loathing
that makes one choose to become another
other than those unthinking
other than this misery of anguish
other than this pain
deliberately to provoke an anger
the other with ingratiating timidity
or rebellious defiance
favours a rejection of
all resentful obligations
all that is distasteful
all that is not worth carrying out
such as with a contempt
that allows one to escape into an emptiness
of the ridiculous and the impossible
through thoughts to an absurdity of beliefs
through the deserted streets
the neighbourhoods of the lie
pass the filthy inadequacies
of obscene caresses
where one is mocked
by exquisitely satisfying ******
of vicious pains
pains that control behaviour
freedom of movement
time and space
who appear at the corners of the mouth
where lurk sarcastic secrets
now I know in these horrors and torments
that time has stopped in all dimensions
eternity has ceased
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 2:18 PM UTC
unendurable, long and exhausting
are the pains
presumptuous in their plenty
such are these pernicious pains
that swarm in a slivering hiss
upon dark and lurking shadows
aesthetically applauding themselves
as they push here and there
in their wounding commentary
of painful narrative
agonising enough to reduce
the soul to debilitating bouts
of disagreeably damaging experience
with startling exaggerations
that produce disgraceful extortions
upon mind and body
squandering unbearable isolations
fragmenting the cracks
in a delicate structure of personality
uprooting it from a sanctified paradise
providing instead a monstrous, shameful loathing
that makes one choose to become another
other than those unthinking
other than this misery of anguish
other than this pain
deliberately to provoke an anger
the other with ingratiating timidity
or rebellious defiance
favouring a rejection of
all resentful obligations
all that is distasteful
all that is not worth carrying out
such as with a contempt
that allows one to escape into an emptiness
of the ridiculous and the impossible
through thoughts to an absurdity of beliefs
through the deserted streets
the neighbourhoods of the lie
pass the filthy inadequacies
of obscene caresses
where one is mocked
by exquisitely satisfying ******
of vicious pains
pains that control behaviour
freedom of movement
time and space
who appear at corners of the mouth
where lurk sarcastic secrets
now I know in these horrors and torments
that time has stopped in all dimensions
eternity has ceased
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 5:32 PM UTC
In
indecsicive
instances
I
instantly
interprept
irregular
inflamations as
illmatic
interpretations of
irregular
isolations
irresistable to
introverted
infadels.
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 7:58 PM UTC
The rapid desolate images
swallowing who they
scream for, her. Empty
desire, drowning
in what's real.
Majority; non-existing.
Present wanting.
Presence, dishonest
to the societal family.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC
the god reaches the height of outrageous
and all flee cradles are now in cages
wrap with america's love in all this foil
add zero tolerance, vinegar with oil
nevermind papa are lacking the wages
baby ******** diapers in ops pied pipers
so humanity rage pages to teach all ages
as super agent dancing on loopholes table
just act savages, break'em up like marriages
mother of all separations and isolations
not a **** to refugees let alone day give
drown in this cruelty or tour of its duty
goodbye sanity, welcome cry to show reality
trump the wall, let contagious truth be its fall
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 6:24 AM UTC
I destroy
I break down
And then I don't understand
Isolations the one thing that can make amends
I hurt everything and everyone, no matter my love
If I had the power I'd lose the sun up above
But I know the fix, yes I know the solution
To be locked up in my own private institution
To be trapped in my pills, grass, alcohol and nicotine
If I'm nothing but numb, I won't cause a scene
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 6:53 PM UTC
Sit at my desk,
Hiding from pain.
Years record,
At ten thousand frames.
Slowly I feel,
All that hurts so much.
Isolating myself,
When I'm desperate for touch.
Loved ones flutter by,
Stop by, say hello.
All from a distant,
Whisper at my elbow.
Now I'm alone.
And I wouldn't have to be.
If I simply had turned.
And engaged my family.
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 10:53 AM UTC