"jeopardy" poems
It seemed the space between us became torn and
Profoundly distanced....................
Jamming bony knuckles and spread eagled fingers,
Lying their mapped out journey.....direction on point patrol....
Adorned by silver decoration, delighting in their skinned habitat
Shafted, deceit punching the recipient of the poison digits
Prodding and pushing their intent....dare you contradict
The intended carved out dose of punishment, Risk and
Safety......not yours and never would be; stooped
Down under the assailing bony palmed attachements
That delivered penetrating power, cupped around
Your arm til it became discoloured, pressure points
Backed you into a corner, up against the grain of the
Brick wall, cold and damp, the odour reaching
And scolding your nostrils with its stale internal vows
Refuse, stretching and protruding its foul remnents
An earlier life, when you were not under threat fades
Your very existance in jeopardy, your eyes pleaded for
Normality, willing someone to hear your silence, grip you
Tightly, not with malice, but with bravery and valour
Right now you need that shining knight, that white
Horse galloping down the blind alleyway, yet you
Know that won't happen for you're already sinking
To the floor, the blow comes sharp and stings, warmth
Exudes and trickles a path downwards, leaving your
Body, finding the cold concrete beneath you, travelling
Outwards................
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 7:58 AM UTC
to establish an initiative
for protection of gentleness?
follow the patterns of what does call joy in buddhism?
joy is always innocent
I follow your footsteps
through the dark tunnel
in the shimmering light
and wonder what a courage
you bring towards any jeopardy
which hunts you, my queer peer, behind any conner
in this fallocentric world
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 3:37 PM UTC
My humanity's in jeopardy every single day
Do I have the right clothes?
Do I have the right nose?
Did I say what I should say?
I'm constantly worried and in such a hurry
Did I make my own meal?
Did I work or did I steal?
Should I open up or conceal?
I'm always tired from pent up desire
I'm listening to the hum
From the people and their guns
Trying to ruin all my fun
I'm being told that love won't grow old
But it's stifled and stopped
These floating heads talk
About it around the clock
I'm just weary from always being cheery
I want to be alone
Not chained to a phone
Or hearing the public groan
If I'm 21 now then I'm too dumb anyhow
To fall in love or work
I'm just a coffee clerk
Spit on my college shirt
My self-worth isn't tied to this earth
It's tied to a wire
That leaves cities on fire
I can't get any higher
I feel like a little boy playing with little toys
Why do I have a voice,
If I don't have a choice?
Am I just radioactive noise?
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 8:34 PM UTC
So tired yet so awake
I sit at the edge of an ellipsis
crimping the charred innards of my tattered soul
to make a masterpiece of gore
and internal war.
over the years of self loathing
I finally love myself
but getting ****** up feels ****** perfect
and watching this world unfold anew with each hit
or shot
rocks my mind
unkind but exemplary in it's own fortitude
to prevail my own veils
aside they're cast and fumbled with
as thick smiles seed
and the pace is set for the evening
I can't help but think that leaving
could do me good
but who backs out before the last shot?
who leaves before the deafening toll of midnight?
Cinderella's umbrella of security
and purity
is at jeopardy
and with great haste she wastes away the good looks
for late night *****
and nicotine
forgetting to clean
her closet of supreme validity on
the functioning teen
trying not to be mean,
but completely obscene in gestures
with the barbie's manufacturers groping for caspers
in the utopian disasters of the girl they forged
many decades back, but lost track
of the track that played that summer night
in the moonlight of immaculate humor and love
above all the oozing essence that manifested
now tested, for virtual ******
your cerebellum will tellem the positive
credo
that we all know is hooked on the days drift wood with
byzantine benzodiazapines to guide her haunted spirit
till
the cracks turn to crevasses and prehistoric protons mate with electrons
in the vat that is abrewing to plot the lies
watch the skies fade to grey as it may
be about time for the ecliptic rhymes to find
reconciliation
in the bladed grains of mortality and sigh
for being high in this lowered juncture
of subsisting future
buys you time to mull over such a daydream
as your last breath
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 7:51 AM UTC
All is NOT well in the grasslands.
The animals are fit to be tied.
The actions of the crafty wolves
Have left the rest of them horrified.
"How will we EVER be able
To keep democracy afloat,"
The antelope asked, "if the wolves
Don't allow us all to vote?
"In many sections of these grasslands,
Shameless wolves are doing their best
To hold voter registration
Hostage, keeping voters suppressed."
"They aim to control voter turnout,"
The deer added. "That's their hope.
Their sneaky ways to manipulate
Elections push the envelope!
“They stall and seek petty reasons
To take names off voting lists.
Fair and honest elections are
In jeopardy if this persists.”
"It's so close to election day,
Our courts are reluctant to raise objections,"
The buffalo said. "Some of the wolves
Are even running in the elections!
"Humph! They stole a Supreme Court justice.
Then they rammed another one through.
Now they're still suppressing voters.
What more damage will they do?"
"Winnowing down voter rolls!
Their strategies should be illegal!"
The fox chimed in. Looking around,
He asked, "Where is our dear friend Eagle?"
The absent eagle wanted no
Responsibility tied to her name.
She couldn't stop the out-of-control
Wolves, and hid her head in shame.
-by Bob B (10-19-18)
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 10:50 AM UTC
We are doing quadratic equations again in math.
Find the domain when x is on the bottom of the fraction beneath 1
All "real" numbers, negative infinity to infinity....
...
not including 0?
It can either be that or this, it cannot be "what is normal?"
Jeopardy.
Wrong?
I think you're wrong.
I'm finding something made up
You're telling me to read your mind
Well I can't.
What about this... Let's say that I'm "x"
Now find me other than undefined.
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 2:09 AM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, everyone dreams of a movie life that they never had:>
'do you have a movie idea?' she is asked
my piano's stuck on notes that made a blast
'what is your absolute dream?'
no clue!!! I scream
now with that blood reaches my knees when I lie
and shattered glass stains a cry
but one selfish day
of a one grey warning day
on a Storm
out of Vivaldi's norm
I'll make November's violins
spin the veins under my skin
when an alarm's clock won't erase history
nor dust the ink in black poetry
the purple eye
would know a who and an exact why
when a sudden mother's scream won't defeat
the eclipsed expressions or invisible heart beat
nor the recall of empty lines
things that used to be an impossible of possible defines
when a sun's light won't make a memory in sleep swing
nor the unnotice of a summer autumn winter or spring
wouldn't keep the pen's color on a compass' tip
on an adventure of a lost ship
east kills west north kills south
when the kissed would be a clear mouth
to live for the hope of it all
the said would be spit on a train station's phone call
the fall would reach the death quest
the unknown would be unraveled for the moment in rest
but the dream's missing pieces has nothing to do with the recorder
and that is why I would record ONCE then put the puzzle in a folder
**** the ones who saw
burn the **** machine after created in raw
I did title 'Waste Before You Taste' a long time ago surely
some greed changed my idea of mercy
a question to be answered is jeopardy
when no human shall know of there will be misery
when a heart of glass would be dropped and broken
when the darkest thunder of the dream was golden
once the ought to be a secret would be a wonderland stolen
I warned it would be a selfish day
yet you listened and now the death penalty you pay
-------ravenfeels
Aug 14, 2021
Aug 14, 2021 at 7:49 AM UTC
Long before she was born
The balance, the societal scale,
The ground upon which her wobbly feet
Will learn to stand upright and walk steady
Had been socially disintegrated.
Arms with which her clay mind
Is to be molded and framed
Had been morally fractured.
The ‘responsible majority'
Saddled with the making of serious decisions
Had decided against her-
The minor, with fewer rights
And a body like hers-
Double jeopardy, I will say.
The verdict always the same,
Unanimous more often than not
Guilty!! Is the girl child;
If she grows too fast
Or he touches her inappropriately.
So she learns from her early days
The skill of helplessness
All through the pain and the shame
For it is always her fault
Always has been
Long before she arrived
©Belema .S. Ekine
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 7:07 AM UTC
Ornery odious ordinate ostensive opulence ornate optimal
Motivity meatus meticulous morsel moribund mendacity monstrance
Lucidity lingam loquacity longevous licentious lurid languishing
Votary volition verve venery vector vauntness vast
Talismanically telepathy tantamount terrestrial tellurian transition tractive
Idolatry -ics incus ictus ichor icon icky
Yogi yowl yore yoni yerk yenta yantra
Gimpy gesticulation genre gestational glitch genuflection grandiose
Dastardly douceur denouement denigrational deplorable despicable desperate
Paltry potentate portentous plagiaristic pandemic plenipotentiary plenary
Jouncy jocular jeopardy jettison jurisprudence jaunt juxtaposition
Ramify repartee radix recital rectitude rendition repertoire
Beastly bartizan bodacious belligerent brusque blatant blasphemously
Enmity exigency exacerbation extemporaneous edifice eulogy exoneration
Zoolatry zoomorphic zilch Zephyr zoic zygosity zealotry
Sultry solace subtlety substantiation suborn subliminal sensorium
Unity ultimatum usurping unfathomable uncanny unbridled unary
***** hornswoggle horizon huckster homogeny holistic heuristic
Nugatory notch nostrum notorious nihilism nimiety nimbus
Wrathy wreak wroth wrought wrest wrangle warranty
Artistry autonomy articulation agility acuity asperity acerbity
Keeky kangaroo court kowtow kobold kleptomania kinetics kinesiology
Xylography xenophile xerophilous xylophagous xylem xanadu xenobiotic
Critically credibility critique coercion conjugational conjunctive corporeal
Queasy quasi quantum quintessence quagmire quixotic quantify
Flighty flippant flamboyance faux pas fornicatious fictitious finite
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 5:31 AM UTC
Finite fictitious fornicatious faux pas flamboyance flippant flighty
Quantify quixotic quagmire quintessence quantum quasi queasy
Corporeal conjunctive conjugational coercion critique credibility critically
Xenobiotic xanadu xylem xylophagous xerophilous xenophile xylography
Kinesiology kinetics kleptomania kobold kowtow kangaroo court keeky
Acerbity asperity acuity agility articulation autonomy artistry
Warranty wrangle wrest wrought wroth wreak wrathy
Nimbus nimiety nihilism notorious nostrum notch nugatory
Heuristic holistic homogeny huckster horizon hornswoggle *****
Unary unbridled uncanny unfathomable usurping ultimatum unity
Sensorium subliminal suborn substantiation subtlety solace sultry
Zealotry zygosity zoic Zephyr zilch zoomorphic zoolatry
Exoneration eulogy edifice extemporaneous exaserbational exigency enmity
Blasphemously blatant brusque belligerent bodacious bartizan beastly
Repertoire rendition rectitude recital radix repartee ramify
Juxtaposition jaunt jurisprudence jettison jeopardy jocular jouncy
Plenary plenipotentiary pandemic plagiaristic portentous potentate paltry
Desperate despicable deplorable denigrational denouement douceur dastardly
Grandiose genuflection glitch gestational genre gesticulation gimpy
Yantra yenta yerk yoni yore yowl yogi
Icky icon ichor ictus incus -ics idolatry
Tractive transition tellurian terrestrial tantamount telepathy talismanically
Vast vauntness vector venery verve volition votary
Languishing lurid licentious longevous loquacity lingam lucidity
Monstrance mendacity moribund morsel meticulous meatus motivity
Optimal ornate opulence ostensive ordinate odious ornery
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 5:48 AM UTC
A star of blood you fell
from the point of the hypodermic
singing of fabulous beasts &
spitting out the *** of vowels
Your poems explode in the mouth
like torrents of ***** on a night
full of zebras & bootheels
Your ghost still cruses the river-
fronts of midnight assignations
in a world of dead sailors carrying
armfuls of flowers in search of
your unmarked grave
Your body no sanctuary for bees,
Death was your lover in a rain of
broken obelisks & rotting orchids
In the tangled rose of a single heartbeat
I offer you the shadow of a double
profile,
two heads held together at the bridge
of the nose by a nail of *****
smoke
in the long night's dreaming
& memory of water poured between
glasses
In my mailbox I find a letter from
a dead man & know that for every
shadow given
one is taken away
Yet subtraction is only a special form of
addition and implies a world of hidden
intentions below a horizon of lips
thin as your fingernail sprouting
mysteries in the earth …
The ace of spades dealt from the bottom
of the deck severs the hand which
retrieves it & the eyes of Beauty
sewn together peer over a black lace fan
in the ****** sunlight of a Spanish
morning without horses
The Belt of Orion is loosened
before you as you remove the silver
fingerstalls from your mummy hands &
kneel to plunder the nightsky in a shower of
bitter diamonds.
(Somewhere under a blanket someone weeps
for a lover.)
Peace to your soul
& to your empty shoes
in the dark closets of
kings with no feet!!!
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 4:06 PM UTC
You've seen a mother
Nursing a child,
Giving freely
Of herself.
So altruistic,
She finds maternal pleasure
Through nurturing.
My close friend
Gave his son a kidney.
His very own *****
Putting himself in jeopardy
For his son's prosperity.
The pleasure of altruism
Wasn't lost on me.
Have you seen the picture
Of the man on the cross.
He wears a smile
Behind his blood mask.
He found pleasure
In offering salvation.
No greater gift,
Can be bestowed
From man, woman or god,
Than the innate pleasures
Of self-sacrifice.
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
Tuna sandwiches on white bread
Carried in a paper bag
Josh Groban on the CD player
Season Three of 2 broke Girls
Matching shoes and purses
Vacation in the Pocanos
Subscription to People Magazine
Pennies in a piggy bank
Silver-beige 4-door Accord
A little college but no degree
Always ten pounds overweight
Celebration meal at Sizzler
Artificial Christmas tree pre-lit
A mole that wants removing
Off white walls, pale green carpet
Outfits from mail order catalogs
Paydays with no yearly bonus
Jeopardy and Wheel of fortune
Polyester perm press everything
Bic Stik ball point pen
Swanson's TV dinner
Flip phone with no camera
*** two times a week and Sunday
Writing verse nobody reads
ljm
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 1:22 AM UTC
Is trust really a delicate dance of uncertainty?
A lamb may skip with innocence over the bright dandelion-covered meadows of our majestic urban constructs, whilst Mother Nature unravels her thick carpet of jeopardy, without reservation or shame.
It is possible for us to refrain from captivations which allure us to the psychological precipice and to appreciate the chords of the blues which beautifully tantalise the innermost recesses of suppressed and forbidden yearnings.
So, join hands with the sonic waves of Saturn and respect the psychological precipice with sober awareness. Darkness and daylight are not dichotomous astrological differences where fatalistic determinism stands in diametrical opposition to authentic internal equilibrium.
Contemplate the soothing and beautiful anticipations of dusk, where the flight of the bat reveals a miraculous contrast against the deep pastel curtains of the night; and acknowledge that twilight exposes her morning glory in the simple droplet of dew.
The shadows hold no substance. Metamorphosis is a tangible possibility in the realms of existence. Do you believe it?
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 4:01 PM UTC
I’m thinking of a place
With a monkey and a sled
A brand new jar of cottage cheese
Just resting on the bed
An envelope with butterflies
Upon the stamp it wears
And a basement sitting at the top
Of someone else’s stairs
~
A very special place
Where the beach is at your door
And multicolored tangerines
Will help you mop the floor
A casserole with tuna
In a bowl of cocoa beans
Where a question is an answer
Or at least that’s what it seems
~
A place where you will notice
That the sun it always shines
And toaster ovens tick away
Below the shuttered blinds
Jeopardy is on the tube
Wherever you may go
Antiques shuffle down the street
As every road will show
~
When you are in this special place
A trolley will say hi
A weeping willow sings a song
As it forgets to cry
Hibiscus on the front porch
Welcome all who do drop in
The price it has been lowered
As the morning comes again
~
You’ll see while in this special place
A necklace on a whale
And smiles at the dollar store
They always are on sale
A seagull and a crescent moon
Now share the skies above
But most of all while in this place
You’ll see that you are loved
~
You will learn this special place
It lives within my heart
To offer you a haven
When we find we are apart
A sanctuary nestled deep
That forever will be true
For here within this special place
I always will love you
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 7:15 AM UTC
Gene and Jenny Taylor
Had long been man and wife
But a heinous disagreement
Took a hold upon their life
For each bemoaned their tackle
It was Gene who started first
He justified why dangly bits
Were easily the worst
“They tangle in your underwear
And twist themselves about
If I sit down in football shorts
They try to wriggle out
They chafe on nearly everything
They’re difficult to dry
And when it’s hot an humid out
They’re welded to your thigh”
Jenny swiftly countered him
“Well ***** are surely worst
For shaving is laborious
And not all lips are pursed
The periods are painful
With a week of aggravation
And we use three times the toilet roll
And cause deforestation “
But Gene had more to muster
“Well the ***** is a *******
And hiding an ********
Is a skill each man has mastered
They lead us into jeopardy
They always take the ****
And first thing in the morning
They’ve a tendency to miss”
So Jenny said “Vaginas
Are a curse between the thighs
And lady bits look monstrous
To anyone with eyes
They’re prone to thrush and fondling
And embryo gestation
***** are only any good
For use in aviation”
Gene and Jenny caught their breath
The stalemate was called
For genitals, the lips and *****
Or **** and hairy *****
Are vital to our species
More useful than they seem
And you’ll see a marked improvement
When they’re working as a team
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 7:14 AM UTC
The male tortoise was quite harried,
more than that hurt,
not being able to get
the logistics right,
to copulate with its mate,
even after repeated attempts,
in which the girl did her best!
The keeper of his cage
and other men stood
as mute spectators,
looking the other way
acting coy,
offering no help.
**How could he know
that they didn't want
to be seen
as a zoophilous lot!**
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 10:36 AM UTC
There was a Double Rainbow
in the sky, over my house today,
Any special meaning there you say?
Double Luck, Double Trouble,
Double Dip, Double Bubble,
Double Up, Double Down,
Double Dutch, Double Duty,
Double Play, Double Header,
Double Cross, Double Jeopardy,
Double Negative, Double Genitive,
Double Dealings, Double Whammy.
Double Jointed, Double Hung,
Double Pleasure, Double Fun.
I'm quite sure I could go on like this,
Beyond the ordinary, If only I had
my copy of Mister Webster's Dictionary.
Working this over in my mind,
running it up and running it over.
The best conclusion I can reach,
Two stripe rainbows are nothing more,
than what you see and what you think.
A pretty painting in the sky, and hence
Of no other particular consequence.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
nefarious nested newfound
minds gather in dim-lit bedroom
shining with love.
taking seconds from an
extended time frame.
what eludes to harm done
comes from adultration
of a vision - friendship.
it's been said, no loyalty with
dope fiend drugdrugsdrug addicts.
when under the greensmoke
light of a cracked window
and wheezing-- OH the wheezing--
of youth taking
extra time to become
tomorrow's electronic future.
it's gonna be different
than yester-year, dear.
20% of our feeble country
engages indulges
in this ancient sacredity
&as; for you, my dear ones,
sitting in the dark,
jeopardy, saw IV, daft's
harderbetterfasterstronger
--"i've never seen so many colours!"
my heart calls as yours does,
for a future we're waking up to.
we're not violent vicious vile
backstabbing cold-mongers.
if anything,
laughing at them.
quoting movies, queueing memories.
preparing for world dissolution.
i hate the bane too, kids, but we
know who we are.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 6:05 AM UTC
The smell of grandma's porch was wonderful
but not in the clothes on the line or fresh apple pie on the windowsill kind of way.
Grandma's porch smelled of old paint
of winter even in the summer and of
damp wicker, an ancient outdoor rug, oxidized aluminum siding
and dust from the cars on First Avenue speeding to,
or from,
the Post Office on Main Street at the bottom of her street
These were not necessarily "good" smells
We'd wash them off of our hands before we ate lunch in front of
the TV with grandpa, watching Jeopardy
but the old one not the one with the Canadian guy
But they were good smells to us because
they reminded us of a grandma who allowed her grandchildren to build massive forts
from blankets
and every chair and sofa cushion in the house
TV tables too
As long as they were dismantled before Noon when Jeopardy came on
and grandpa would want his lunch
and the vapor rising from his bowl of Campbell's chicken noodle soup
would wash away the smell of grandmas porch from our noses.
Aug 13, 2012
Aug 13, 2012 at 4:37 PM UTC
The Gifted ones we turn into
The "Wild Ones" to be
The Chosen-Ones of the
Golden- Gods*
Wild Oats organically
are grown into
your younger heart
Like (Cheer)ios
Mysterious Honey O's
Uniquely-- tied-- unknown
Does everybody become __?
The Joker playing poker
Too many "Billygoats"
Wild card players
Playing jeopardy in
(January)
To be his chosen one
Miss (February)*
True gifts the big ones
(March) in wild ones
The Emerald-Green door
planet
Poems on earth sonnet
(April) no fools I'm cool
Orangutans wild dolphins
Italian vineyards
Wildlife Fruit surgeons
(May) I click to tease you
Shark bay will bite you
Getting burned with a
flat iron
Walk the talk Sea lions
Sea Cortez smartphones
Married in (June) candy Pez
So personal in (July)
What awaits through___ the___ door*
Mom brightens my August day
I pod imaginary dreamscape
Cat got your tongue
Darkness like Grunge
Amazon Jungle-book in
the lounge
Got Scrooged no gifts
To Google the camel got
your back move to the
frontline with her "Big Cats"
On the Jet gifts and magical hats
It pays to be wild
"The Man's Pleasure" he is
The most wanted list
Oh! Christ
The last gift watch out
The Brittish are coming
to brighten up your
bucket list
Saint Nick canary slippery
hands tight fist protest
The wild ones "Readers Digest"
Trees and eyes don't lie
Knocking on heavens door
Don't be the swagger
**** Jaeger
White snow sugar dance the
Warm maple brown sugar
* * * *
I hear the Godly caller
Writers, all doors welcome
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 7:32 AM UTC
she doesn't like her eggs like that!
she steals the spatula from dad's hand and slices open the yolk dad had preserved
I hear my name being called from inside the kitchen every three and a half minutes
briana don't forget
briana you have to do this
take us to the airport tomorrow morning
we have to leave by 8:30 am
dad what do I do about my car
take it back he says
and he yells at me
and that's how I know I am home
so I disappear into my room to light up a joint I've been saving
he gets a question right on jeopardy
two commercial breaks later he tells me a story
about bejing
and that's how he knew the answer to that question
and I said okay
and he said isn't that weird that I can remember that
and I looked away and thought
no, because you have aspergers
honey, don't forget to take your digestive supplement
okay mom
ok
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 8:51 PM UTC
Type it out you ******* this could be
The last one
For a little while.
I made a promise with myself
Or whoever that shady character is,
Outside
On the deck with me
The one who
Makes fun of me
Delete words as I puke this
Poem?
Out.
Its best that me and this keyboard become friends
My anger towards, understand and accepting
What is proper type,
Or am I the proper type
Of guy who wants Vegas
And EDM
And MDMA
in My life
So writing
Or typing
Whatever
Which one
Of me
Wants to deem it
for only when I dream
It, cheap rhyme,
I want my style to be my own
And I want my intoxicated
Meaningful
Ramblings to be a
Part of it
A part of the
Bigger picture.
I will only type **** like this when i am not sober.
Sober sure is funny
And not just a funny word
Smiley face emoticon
Emoticon is not
a typo
....
Dear lord, oh god oh mighty,
Blasphemy that I would
Even start
Talkin' about
galaxies and universes
outside of this one
Puke some more
As I delete and pull
Words
From
One
Line
To the
Next
Without
Giving a
****
That my
Microsoft word
Capitalizes
Every text
My little brother text (texted?)
Me tonight and said
"Get more ink
For the typewriter"
.
Aside for my desire to ramble on about
Getting more ink
The 16 year ol’ champ
Is right
My biggest dreams at this moment
Are childlike
If that’s a good thing…
Then my 6 year game plan
From this day is in jeopardy.
Autocorrect me more
Higher intelligence
And answer me question’s
The one’s that Christan’s
Don’t need answerin’
Have you ever been introduced to a
16 year old ****
A 16 year ol’ ****
Honestly, I had my eyes locked
On – one
Tonight
And I don’t know so much if
I was looking
But maybe I was recognizing
Recognizing a certain
Level of respect that I had
For her
That she didn’t have for herself
She ****** off my best friends brother to get her backpack back tonight
In front of car headlights
And I have always wanted to type
Backpack back
My entire life.
Put your backpack on buddy,
And walk away from this
Poem?
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 5:33 AM UTC
It's been a year since my suicide attempt. Right now, I'd be in the ER waiting to find out which inpatient clinic I'd go to. One year. Since, I have escaped from toxic people and shifted from an old self. One year. What do I have to show for it? Emotional outbursts? A nicotine addiction? Abandoning my creativity? A battle with a psychological addiction to psychedelic drugs? What does progress look like? What does it mean to reconstruct yourself? A building torn - that's what I am. A prairie, a forest, which has experienced a wild fire. Beyond recognition, I deface myself - as if to erase myself and destroy the things I like. What does progress look like? Am I getting there? In my view, progress is not always seen by you directly. It is not our job to determine if we make progress, but, by the value of people and situations in our lives, we will have it be seen. To do things for ourselves is wonderful. But, what does progress look like? It looks like making giant leaps forward - and then three steps back. It looks like dipping our toe in the water, and then wanting to dry off. It looks like it's perfect, but actually not. It looks like a broken toy fixed with expired super glue. Who are we to determine progression? It's an obsession of the mind for us to think that progress means we must always be fine - that we must be perfect. If I have a million irrational thoughts in a day, does that make my one totally rational thought insignificant? I think not. If I spend one day totally upbeat, productive, and happy - are my sad feelings any less valid? No. So, progress looks like this: admitting to yourself that sometimes we won't have things together completely. We acknowledge it, think rationally, and move to the next focus. Progress is not total immunization of our quirks, but it is less demonization for how we work. Our brains - they want to help us survive. The brain gets confused among irrational thoughts and can jump and put us in an emotional turmoil jeopardy. But, be kind to yourself. Be kind to the "miswires" in your brain - because it cares for you and wants you to survive. Strive. What does progress look like? I'm not sure if I can see mine - I'm not sure what it totally looks like. But, maybe, look in a mirror. See yourself - the reflection of desire. Aspire to be who you are, judgement free. In a sort of clarity, you can see. Ask yourself:
"What does progress look like?"
It looks a bit like you.
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 9:02 PM UTC
We do things a little different here
Down on the farm
With chickens in the kitchen
Instead of outside in the barn
Pigs back in the bedroom
Watching Jeopardy, eating candy corn
Yes, we do it a little different
Down here on the farm
We have the cows over for dinner
Every Thursday night
Used to be more often
But not since the big food fight
The cows and horses don't get along
I really don't understand their dislike
That's why we had to cut back
To dinner only on Thursday night
The sheep pile into the Ranchero
Whenever we head to town
To stock up on their favorite Doritos
And licorice by the pound
When they get behind the wheel
They feel they're heaven bound
When ever it is those licorice loving lambs
Herd themselves downtown
Things seem to be running smoothly
Down here on the farm
We all do our on cooking and cleaning
So we pretty much get along
All except for the pigs
But that we should have known
We still are having a Whoop & Hollering time
Down here on the farm
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 8:40 AM UTC