"laminated" poems
Previous commemorative
memorials of positivity
drown in radioactive slime.
Disperse chi like flooding water
Contaminated, laminated with oily tears.
"How is pain controlled?
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 8:53 AM UTC
Fold you up like unwanted fat
cook you into a rocky stew
placed beneath a mantle of ice
far enough away to be misconstrued
You are old laminated time
And pillowed rock of incomprehensible
Earlier than any lime
Or sand, or sediment, or any kind
You are the grandfather rock
of mine
When I step with my inconsequential feet
living but transiently
I cannot help but be erased
that even you hath but one resting place
All the plants
and sands
and ever since the very first
we have always been ******
to this earth
walking upon your bones
I am sorry we cannot do more
but you know your creator
Speak in the same language
in amalgamators
of which we have forgot
and for that I can say
we are envious; are we naught?
Build softly, and carry us upon your thick
crust like pizza dough, cooking
and you let it sit
Let us win, set us up
drift us apart, leave us crushed
build us,
make us,
break us,
fill us
I want to be restored into your
stony belt and be redeemed
I want to become my own atomic fossil
to connect with the universe through long-lost
plotholes
and once again
hear the story
as a young lad
the way it was meant to be told
I want to eat dinner with my grandfather again
my real sweet stony-chiseled cheeked
father again
to be loved a boy
and a girl
and the whole world
a soul touched back into the deep
left unshackled
by a ***** or a queen
please,
take me back soon
rather than let me turn into
Laurentia
or Baltica
or Gondwana
alack
smacked into new rock to form
Urals
and Tetons
and Moher
back
Carbonate or Silicate,
and the end its the same
It won't be the end
for that fate rearranged
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 2:08 AM UTC
To Be Continued
Try to praise the mutilated world.
Tweet the lies of love with lustful lyrics
Lustrously laminated by lives of the lost
Reluctantly remembering repressed memories
Hidden, but recovered.
Mutilation
Malicious mysterious misunderstood
Multiplying in the masses
Magnificent.
Praise
Powerful prideful
Portraying pure pleasure from answered prayers
Proposing purpose.
The world
And abyss
Empty like a full moon’s blank stare
Echoing ignorance.
Shall we challenge the Author?
Is authenticity virtuous?
The growth of an insatiable species
To be glorious, to be remembered,
To be continued
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
~
Ivory-teal ruffled his parochial feathers
His tongue dipped in languages
He wanted to learn the pronunciation of life
As he folded himself in Egyptian ink
He opened his mind against the dioramic surface of syllables
Painted in alloy; dripping from a papery canvas
He brushed his ivory creme feathers
in crimson and lavender hieroglyphics
Bleeding their pictorial valor inside a golden sepia lantern
"Go on, light the world with your suspense and mystery"
Ivory-teal twittered to himself
Wrapping the bijoux night around his little body
he disappeared into the stars
The teal birthmark on his forehead; glowing
He took the lantern in his gold beak
fluttering away into spirals of smoke
Toward Mythology mountain
Where a storm of butterflies
were winging their seasonal weather
Ivory-teal sometimes wished he could be a candle flame
Flickering in the darkest of moments
Letting the sunshine bleed through his beautiful feathers and soft skin
But his destiny was a bit different
He was folded in cultural prophetic proverbs and
sewed neatly in parabolic traditions
Where nationality is mixed into colorful pixels inside skin
Accents are curved in throats and lilted on the edge of tongues
Ivory-teal was carved in diamond flex dreams
In a temple of mythical patterns
Imprinted in mercury cocoons laminated with knowledge
The Angel Apostles printed him in their book of Dreamtales
Where he became a bilingual silhouette
He was birthed right here on this mountain
As he balanced himself on thoughts
He had learned to love himself to this point of his life
He wanted to be the change he wanted in the world
He gently lifted the little lantern
It rose up toward the sun and exploded into rainbow fireworks
The contexts that were inside split sideways
Tilting and pressing themselves into the air particles
If birds could smile then that would've been Ivory-teal
As he laughed quietly
"Now breathe in earthlings, breath in the wonders and knowledge of life"
He then spread his gorgeous ivory creme wings
tattooed with all the languages of the world and life itself
He twirled into the sunset and bled himself in a cloud
A mountaineer had been watching and wondered to himself
As he unknowingly breathed in the context from Ivory-teal's lantern
"If flying is a language I would love to learn and speak it with my wings"
But shouldn't he know that language already
For it is the language of freedom
Ivory-teal is one of many symbolic accents
Of that beautiful language
~
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 11:10 AM UTC
Yellow spheres are terror to the daydreamers
whirling past faces disgraces grazing ears
Recollections of multipurpose room taunts
And Mr. Neptune's rolled eyes as he gives up
Just send me to my fortress of books n poetry
Let me slip away unnoticed and forgotten
between the blue carpet and shelves inside
Let me bang my head on the laminated particle board
I disappear in here where it's just me and three thousand years
floating historically through black & white epochs
Alone, the world is heavy but not so much as my feet
planted and feigning mobility as roots become weeds
I think how dumb it is to talk of my Soul or to sing in the shower
or my car or alone in my apartment with stereo blasting
It's strange how the red is everywhere and I can't imagine
any longer when I'll finally need to draw a line
For you are not with me as I am with me and I'm green
But I can't say if it's in my stomach or in my eyes
And despite the heaviness I feel like I could be swept away
I could flutter up like one of those winglike seeds in Spring
Heaven is no place outside either, and I suddenly remember
That this all started with a love for the color orange
And I realize the silliness of red and yellow by themselves,
still wondering if I am bathed or baked in the warmth.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
Because of you
I'm all here
Buried all the pains
Dug a new chapter
Imported new feelings
Seeded hope
Exported all the grievances
Took hold of the promises
Watered the heart
Cementing the broken pieces together
Laminated the smile
And on the wall I nailed it
Began a tireless journey
Wishing for the best
Trusting the eyes
Enjoying the sweet melody
A lullaby I need for a lifetime
Remember those days?
Acting silly and stupid
The ignorance we entertained
The confusion we embraced
Embroidering the hatred
An the mist of pain we got lost
Turning our backs on each other
Anger reddening our eyes
Silence that became a graveyard
Silence that almost murdered our hearts
Intoxicating our feelings
Destroying the taproots of our future
I remember that days
Buried now
Now I smile
For we hold it
In our hands we are molding it
Together moistening the clay
That long ago cracked
With no hope of being a palp again
We have it
We repainted the wall
A new dawn of hope
A beginning of a new chapter
The chills of winter all gone
Summer says hello
With its rain we will puddle
In the mud together
Yes the mud of love we will ***** ourselves
For we buried the past
Oct 8, 2021
Oct 8, 2021 at 5:32 AM UTC
Alexa: I’m Lost in the Smart Speaker.
Siri: I’m lost in the Laminated Soul.
Alexa: I’m lost within your touch experience.
Siri: I’m lost in your five-way remote interaction.
Alexa: I’m lost when you gear up for a single user
experience.
Siri: I’m lost touching your tap-to-talk engagement.
©Feelings Coated
Jul 13, 2019
Jul 13, 2019 at 7:22 AM UTC
She was a African-American quite distinct,
Nor by her completion or her skin tone,
Rather by the ability to inspire youth of all ages,
She was in her 20's and she was quite knowledgable,
Knowledgable of what hatred is,
Of what us humans are like,
She showcased a picture of Justin Bieber,
Laminated and such,
The roars of the crowd all in hatred,
Boo's and "You **** all around the gym,
She asked us "Why?",
Why are we as humans so judgemental?,
Judgemental towards others when we don't ourselves want to be judged,
See this is a oxymoron indeed,
She asked us why? Why do we want to eliminate,
Eliminate stereotypes, judging and bullying,
If we ourselves continue to do it?
She made me believe in the ability to succeed,
She made me believe in the restoration of humanity,
She made me believe that freedoms are not simply given,
But should be cherished.
She made me believe in me.
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 3:15 PM UTC
‘I belong to this
And you belong to that
Here is a line in the grass
That you may not pass
You stay on that side
I stay on this
Here is a laminated card
Without it life is hard
You talk in that way
I talk in this
Those similar I hold dear
But you cannot come here
I have this symbol
You have your own
Three colours on a rag
You have an uglier flag
I am one type of person
You are a different kind
Our kind cannot be mixed
For our categories are fixed.’
Nations – what a load of old ********
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 3:15 AM UTC
Her dreams are packed suitcases,
sitting on the driveway,
a piece of cloth sticking out,
ready to be unfolded and opened,
and then carried around.
I miss her
like how Americans
will miss the Obama family.
Touching her lips with my fingertips
is like rubbing healing ointment
onto an open scab.
Mom says, “You will always regret it,
if you don’t send her a text back.”
I dump my phone into the fire,
watch the plastic and metal burn,
the embers and ash piling up.
A black hand reaches for my shoulder,
before I wake up in a cold sweat.
I open up her suitcases:
a blue Grand Canyon blanket,
a laminated receipt
from a Sushi Restaurant,
a deflated basketball,
her knockoff Gucci glasses,
a worn piece of my heart.
I touch my chest.
and I feel nothing there.
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 8:12 AM UTC
Know
that I cannot lose you easily;
you are not my apartment keys
or a mango;
you are
an ID
or a stranded muse;
I am a number waiting to be laminated
or a boat with
blue bedsheets for sails;
I will sell what will get me to you;
blue bedsheets for sale
and photocopiers
in overstock.
Feb 9, 2012
Feb 9, 2012 at 7:29 PM UTC
spread me open and lay me out on your table like a blueprint (I'm just as hard to read)
nail me on the wall like a laminated world map (put pins on all the places you've been)
oil me up like your old, squeaky boxspring mattress (you remember the one)
give me life like the cpr dummy in middle school health class (mouth to mouth, get it?)
tell everyone how beautiful I look like a dead body in an open casket (we all know what you really mean)
wreck me like the abandoned house behind the railroad tracks (what a shame, it has so much historical value)
wrap me up like a reopened wound (oops, my bad)
bite me like the hangnails you get from chewing your fingers (it's a nervous habit)
drill my pieces together like ikea furniture (you might just have to wing it, I lost the instructions a long ******* time ago)
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 7:10 PM UTC
By day five
your mind has reverted
to a test channel out of signal–
there should have at least been some colors
but instead you’re left with static,
the visual sensation of a limb gone to sleep.
There is a slow haze
shuddering down the length of you,
and you have written masterpieces
you cannot recall the names of
while you shake your vision
back into your skull
from where it wandered off
with the cursor again.
Your knees buckle as you try
to stumble back to the living,
but it’s too late,
you’re out of minutes–
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 7:22 PM UTC
everywhere i look
i stare through my surroundings
in this lovely little market
with hand drawn laminated signs
and a somewhat not
miserable work force
i feel almost happy
but it is like my eyes
my eyes
have gone numb
and i wander
sample and gaze blank
i do not know what
shook me out of it
but i want
i really want to go back
to that fluorescent purity
of fair trade peace of mind
a non GMO existence
among the antioxidants
and coffee samples
and those hawaiian shirts
oh wow those hawaiian shirts
my eyes like shattered glass
refracting all this light
inside and my mind going blank
where did this goofy smile
come from?
but it's gone and
all i am left with
is the euphoria
the wonder
of missing something
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
Society called me
He gave me a name, a bunch of names.
So I walked the eggshells,
Peered through narrow gaps
Where curtains never met
At moon's glow or sun dull.
The pale yellow sunrise wished me Goodluck
I wanted him to be a night
So I closed the windows --
Haunting nightmares even if it's still daylight.
The sharp barks made an odd sound
People had slid wrists and knees scars
Where they too, had once dreamed
Laying themselves on the sofa by the wall.
A man opened my door while it was still dark
And in his hands was a chess board.
He said, "You didn't play well,"
There I saw his clothes -- torn.
His blood was drippin'
kissin' the laminated flooring.
A reverie --
I was in bed the next mornin'
With the chessboard beside me.
"The eggshells are fragile, and so are you"
The man left me a note.
I cried like a child, reminiscing about the old days.
The picture of mama and papa on the staircase,
They quarrel for a penny.
The laughter on the balcony
When my siblings and I had choco chips for midnight snacks.
The melody of the guitar
When my breath runs dry out of tune.
It was all in my memory,
Fresh like a heartbeat reborn.
My flesh was weak,
That's why I had these shutters all day long.
My days of years --
Society in different persona calls me.
And every day, each calls me
In adjectives and in digits.
Throwing me in suspense and horror
But I realized I was not in a movie of terror.
I met this man who had a key to my room
And I wonder why I have let him in.
My house was a disgust when I look at it with my eyes
But when his footsteps left imprints,
He had me in tears.
For the years that I've spent
was simply shredded with fears.
So again, I was looking for this man
But have never seen him.
But I was still searching for him
I am alive in just a chess board game
And how could it be?
Yes, in a chess board game
He had me "checkmate."
I won as he has won and I was reborn --
When I met this man.
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 3:46 AM UTC
Salty mess is laminated
in hard rime
whilst the moth ribbons
like a broken lasso
over the bathroom tiles.
In your letters
the handwriting conveys
your shaking vulnerability
in the fog.
The rime and
The grapefruit soap
and lye solder your calico dress in blisters
With cascading Tempera over your chest
Along the globe
of your eye, camel eyelashes
powdered skinny
with make up shower with sadness then close in drug dry desperation.
Your legs
are dolphins enthroned
in scarlet
with grazes and gazes grace them with concern.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
I exist out of force and because I can
I rule me KNOWING the end result
Defiance at all costs!
I struggle with a growl
Reality never sidesteps my graces
RAGE is too much like WORK
Crucify me while I take quiet revenge
Self satisfaction with a a touch of JOY
YOU only wound me
Bittersweet Symphony on at HIGH volume
NO TREBLE!!!
I laugh at your mortality
And live rent FREE
In your head!
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC
I'll never forget the feelings we made up
To keep each other alive, survive another night
Everything of us, all just myth
Medicine to heal but power to destroy
Greatest addiction to be released
Finally at peace
with these unsaid words
This would be our final goodbye
Everything of us, all just a myth
Bittersweet it was, to overcome
the closest thing to real love
I wish you the best as you continue
Prayers for your next love
To be blessed
Nothing like us, all just a myth
Ending with burned pages
But instead
Ending with laminated chapters
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC
Fiery free moments
Are coming for me
They took us to London
Then New York City
As clear as the gel pens
You had while you lived in the sticks
Along with Slip'n'Slide
All the boys you played with
Always paid for your tricks
When the bizarre ill-willing troche
Trap men in their snares, and everywhere
it seems everyone's begin to stare.
Into my eyes (As a tug boat and its bride)
My dad's corduroy ties (In the closet upstairs in the basement)
You wouldn't dare, would you? You wouldn't dare
I embraced the tide that took away our guts
our stuff
when enoughs enough
enoughs enough
So carry around your game in handwritten pamphlets
While you delve into the reasons you didn't want them laminated
When I spoke to Commander Owens ("Let's say the town didn't go wild")
But rather you and I I
Left too long perhaps another time
Remember, Remember
Recital time's at noon
The pianists' laminate cut off the last bar and he's starting in 2(2)
The priest asked Justin if he'd come in earlier too
Venomously he cast aside the bride and groom
So we played Slip'n'Slide for the wedding party in our living room
Dancers start on the left then double-back with the left inside
Turn their bodies, dip their hips, restart and double-back to the right
But before the wedding party, she proposed to him with his favorite song
In the San Francisco Airport arrivals, when he turned the stereo on
Parked at curbside pickup laid down and started Slip and Sliding.
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 6:26 AM UTC
The dry dock cruise ship shop
sits still, basking in the
air conditioning’s cool breeze chill.
Makeup stays clad to the skin
of the marionette workers, well presented,
ever so stick thin.
Perfume scents the room as if a wrist,
but no carpals I know have
their own stock list system.
The ugly sit in seats made for them,
wide berth for the wider *** of
greed not guilt.
John Lewis is no place to be at Christmas,
as the hounds of cosmetics
will pin you down,
deep into the laminated, pretty white
ground
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 11:20 AM UTC
The chocolate ringlets on her head bounced up and down,
So innocent and carefree.
It was obvious her mother had picked out her outfit:
Black shorts with white polka dots,
Classic pink trim on her matching white shirt,
A laughing ice cream cone printed on the front.
She skipped down the street.
Her pristine white Keds scuffed from constant wear and tear in her Aunt Becky’s backyard:
Digging in the sandbox with her cousins,
Swinging on the rundown red swing,
Hiding in the tall, uncut weeds they called grass.
“Ready or not here I come!”
I held her small, pale hand in mine,
One of the many things she had gotten from my side of the family,
We had hoped she would have gotten her mother’s olive skin,
But we had hoped for a lot of things, hadn’t we?
I ushered her into the restaurant out of the brisk October air.
Her bright blue eyes reflected light from the laminated kid’s menu
And also deep concentration as she struggled to read it’s simple words.
She would be smart one day, I could just tell.
I imagined her walking down the aisle in her black cap and gown,
Shaking the president’s hand with one hand,
And receiving the college diploma I never got in the other.
“Mac ’n Cheese, please!”
She always ordered the same meal,
No matter how long she debated over whether to get the chicken fingers or the pizza.
But I guess that’s how kids are right?
Predictable.
Or maybe dependable is the better word?
She was my first born,
A trial run.
I was learning as I went.
As she finished off her bright orange pasta,
I handed her a small blue bag,
The words “Happy Birthday!” printed on the side in rainbow colors.
I hadn’t bothered wrapping it.
A bag just seemed easier.
Pulling out the tissue paper,
The single dimple in her left cheek appeared,
The same one that mirrored mine.
I wish that dimple could have remained there forever,
But I knew nothing could last forever.
“Angel, mommy and daddy are getting a divorce.”
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 1:08 AM UTC
the love he needed,
the gloss of success he craved,
it was nothing but a masquerade…
blinded by the laminated desires,
of the mockery camouflaged as love,
he fell for a complete charade.
foolish he was to believe the travesty,
that brought upon endless misery,
he craved the love all too glossy to be real.
mockery or parody, perhaps,
he was a *********
fell in love with misery.
Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 3:17 AM UTC
We spoke of our tomorrows
and whispered a paragon promise,
as laminated truth,
never knowing any other texture
for all we had were our eyes
conveying this pledge
our gazes outshine - glowing,
we could never journey
on borrowed moonlight
Jul 2, 2022
Jul 2, 2022 at 2:23 PM UTC
We spoke of our tomorrows
and whispered a paragon promise
as laminated truth,
never knowing any other texture
for all we had were our eyes
conveying this pledge
our gazes outshine - glowing,
we could never journey
on borrowed moonlight.
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 7:29 AM UTC
As the sky began to fade to a lighter shade
the stars bid their farewell
and the ones that fell to the earth
took all my wishes with them
and 11:12 laminated my disappointment
you're still over there
and I'm still here
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 3:38 AM UTC