"limpness" poems
Never what you wanted
Always in the way
Your words so haunted
By abuse and pain
Tainted with knives
The scars still stain
Weak and rejected
Limpness of a soul
Demolished and confused
Torture so cruel
Like a light in a fire
You spread through my heart
You created a monster
One forever dark
Determination through hate
No one more to despise
These demons eyes
No comprimise
Now it shall be done
Nothing left to be said
I'll paint your life red
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 4:12 PM UTC
Stifled existence
Limpness in my veins
In all things reticence
At least I'm free of any stains
Silent build-up in my throat
Semi-solid chunks of liquid fear
Worry what sickness might denote
Perhaps it's best I disappear
Better hope ***** is symbolic
Because now I have to go
And so, of me, my stomach's *******
Is all you'll ever know
Dec 22, 2021
Dec 22, 2021 at 8:07 AM UTC
Rinse
Repeat
A simple man, trapped by society,
Raised to feel indebted to his family
His fantasy is printed and framed
Above the job's lobby. A beautiful
Scene of the mountains in Nagasaki.
The clear air clears the clouds
Of the the solvent factory
So he sits and stares
Ever unsure of his trajectory.
Rinse
Repeat
The quality of his life is priced
At $4.50. If he can't get his fix
Of burritos and churro sticks,
His world turns to bricks.
His grip slips.
The slight weight shift on his hips
Strips his exuberant demeanor
Like a lunar eclipse.
Rinse
Repeat
When he tries to adlib the script,
Life and love kicks him in the intelligence.
His happiness doesn't take precedence
Over the dead presidents he needs
To keep his residence. It's evident
In his directionless aggressiveness,
He feels irrelevant to his existence.
So, he slows the pistons of his brilliance.
Rinse
Repeat
His silence has made him forget his presence
He's become convinced that washing metal prints
Isn't against his will. That the fulfill-
Ment of another's vision is the pill
To his sickness. Like the use of litmus
Will heal his mental limpness
Between 9 and 5. The only thoughts
He completes are rinse and repeat
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 8:10 PM UTC
let me forget you.
take me to the drowned forest
where water gurgles from
descicated root-lungs,
preserving limpness in form.
where I can feel at home
dangling, the shadowed bats
swerve in overcast light.
here, I am caught
pretending that the ground
rushes towards me,
and peace is in my lungs.
Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 10:21 PM UTC
Skinny is not synonymous with confident. Nor is funny synonymous with happy. But if you weigh 110 pounds, and make people laugh they will ignore your tear stained cheeks. They will overlook the limpness of your movements.
You could fall dead without having been known by anyone. They will peer at your corpse and claim to have known you. They may even cry.
Had I been fat and humorless they would have known me.
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 7:06 PM UTC
smaller than anything, no talk or touch
on the inside you’re growing a rose bush, a thorn in your side
i know this, because i helped grow it there.
it is dying now. you forgot to look after it, its drying up in your gut
hardly red at all
black and tarred and all tied up.
i lean in and i ask it sadly “do you need some help?”
but it does not reply, and you are sleeping though
you do not reply anyway.
your skin tells me that you are warm, alive, but by the way you’re breathing
on my shoulder, and the nicotine stains in-between your fingers loose across your cheek
tell me that you have never felt the warm at all.
and then maybe i pull you closer
to keep you from freezing over like the iceberg
bodies fit like jigsaws when they are in love but ours do not fit at all and the bits in between where my skin lacks your’s make me want to arch and die in-between the white.
and in my frail effort, in your limpness, pale, it occurs to me that
you are the white, the iceberg
half-asleep with you my eyes are closed but even when they weren’t
i couldn’t see you anyway
you are bigger than anything i’d imagined.
i haven’t felt anything in 7 weeks and 1 day and if i woke you up i think i might cry.
the cold killed the rosebush and where my palms try desperately to hug your stomach
im crying, saying
*i cannot bring the sunshine back to you
i cannot bring the sunshine back to you*
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 2:19 PM UTC
Encyclopedic mainframes
Lap-top heads
Power-boxes for multitudinous outlets, plugs, chargers
Conduits manipulating
Fiber-optic arteries
Artificial energy
ZAP
Pale lights
Computers aglow in dark cloistered bedrooms
Powered pacemakers stalling at microwaves
Electrocuted blood - cookied fantasies
Ads proclaiming everything free!
Pharmaceutical elixirs for limpness, lumpiness, loneliness
Snake-oil for suffering
Nigerian kings, Syrian refugees
*********** clever memes, whimsical gifs, shocking news, witty banter
Socio-politic-religous-diatribes
Spewing on every thread
Existential *****
Aroma-less cuisines
Vacuumed vacations
Youtubed communions
Suicide selfies.
Crucifixdrones - pedolandia
Jdate.POF.AshleyMadison.Match. Eharmony.SpeedDate.OKcupid
CG. Missed encounters...
Serial killers,
Pixalated ******* vein-throbbed **** shots, cardboard gloryholes
Instagramed I
Inviolate I
Internet I
I I I
No sweaty arm pits, cottage cheese, gray nose hairs or belly fat
Computer [ScreenShot]
While behind, posters hang: The Doors, Tupac, NIN, The Smiths, Hendrix, Joy Division, Nirvana
HandshapedHeart.
2D souls
Text-dating
144 word manifestos
#revolutions
Archetype emoticons
Doodled centaurs
Caged in matrices
Transcendental notes
Need a hit
Of internet smack
A line, a pinch, a drag
A like, a comment, a kudos
A reply, a thumbs up, a share, a poke
One measly view
Baby, come on, give me a fix
Just one
Notification: ding-beep-buzzzz
I want to dissolve like alka-seltzer in tap water
Otherwise I'm a used-up toothpaste tube
Sitting in a dank medicine cabinet
If not, I am
A stick-figure created from matches
Drowning in a drum of gasoline
Not buried beneath pregnant soil
No. dumped into blue recycling bins.
[Ctrl +Alt+Delete]
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 3:42 PM UTC
1
Time did not exist
under the cleaved
marrow of moon
while you sighed
away the hours
2
Sometimes when he looked
at you you felt the weight
of your suffering reflected
in his fossilized eyes
3
He opened his heart
without giving it away
and how startled you were
by the coldness you found there
4
Often you felt
like little more
than the afterthought
of a peppermint
5
Like the leaves you were unaware
of your transience you could not see
the end the fluttering then the limpness
6
In history you are always viewed
through the lens of your mistakes.
Mar 30, 2011
Mar 30, 2011 at 9:45 AM UTC
The sad look in your eyes,
breaks my heart.
I don't know what it is,
but then I might know what it is.
I don't need to know
if you are okay,
I can see it in your expression.
The limpness in your bottom lip,
the way you shoulders are slumped over,
the way your eyes glide their way
to me and then look back at the table.
That's a stupid question.
I won't ask you that.
But I need to know
if you will be okay.
When?
I don't care when.
The sooner the better though.
But if you feel like
you will be okay,
that you can see the light
at the end of the tunnel
and find your way
out of the mess,
then that's all that I need to know.
I just want to know,
Will you be okay?
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 12:24 PM UTC
Bar Pickups
She had been riding pleasurably
For over fifteen minutes
And she kept asking for more
She kept making me hold back
But I couldn’t find much passion
In the eternity of fake moans
She was moving around on top of me
Head back
Yelling from a real moan
“Not yet! Not yet!”
All while routinely taking all of me
I pretended to be at a lost
And prematurely out of control
“Oh, baby, it’s good, it’s good”
And erupted
******* she said. “I was almost there”
She had also said that about fifteen minutes before
“But don’t take it out though”
She was so wet with an open invitation
That it slide out by itself
She took my pride
And held up my limpness
Like a piece of meat
Before she slung it
Against my inner thigh
Poured herself another drink
And asked between sips
“How long will it take?”
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 9:49 PM UTC
open me your hands
fists cruelly which
their tightness conceal
a
Slender
blade
Of
spring
In
heat.
(a cut distinctly of certain cuteness bleeding)A
dolllike limpness
of stiff
cherry breaking.
a branch of sometimes petal bearing stems.
(a kiss and roughness)
Open me them
there
slightness
will
bare
a span
of
lewd innocence.
a strip of easy with parting rain which sometimes in April feels like dying
feels like pusshing apart of lips, hot redness, and ***** of steep fuzz.
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 4:01 AM UTC
To look, to touch, to hold,
To squeeze, to smell, to kiss,
To unhappily release.
These truths still untold
Block the blow of our bliss!
To love from the shiver of the skin,
From the blood and the flesh and the bone
To the flame for a soul within...
To love and to feel alone.
To try to touch the incandescence,
To reach the limpness of a cloud,
To hurt both company and ausence,
To jump, to fly, to fall.
To cry and to pray and to kiss again
In a poisoning paradox of desire,
To feel as cold as ice and hot like melting fire.
In spite of the time,
In spite of morality,
In inspite of our parents,
Of our own anxiety,
In inspite of the world
And whatever watches from above,
In spite of ourselves,
To love.
To love and to pray and to hurt again
To jump, to fly, to fall,
To feel Hell and Heaven at the reach of a hand
But to know nothing at all.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 3:08 PM UTC
After the makeup—
The thick layers you insist on painting—
After the jewels
And the fashionable clothes
As well as your glossy hair,
After all that’s off
You know what’s left?
What’s left isn’t the pimples,
The dark circles
The limpness of your hair
The unkept, unruly appearance you hide.
What’s left is a perfect image
An image that means true beauty
I can see the clearness
The fragileness
The humaneness that is you
All I see is someone
That I don’t need to chase
And that I don’t need to glorify
Under false pretenses
y.k.
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 10:32 AM UTC
lightning bolts in my brain
shoot like meteors through my skull
and limbs became rivers.
it all flowed through me
like molten veins that pulsed
with the breath of the earth.
it is the heaven I long for
to be immersed in this small
section of time and space that
compresses the muscle in my limbs
into a flesh soup, it is like floating
in a sea of myself.
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 10:42 PM UTC
yes, you are, I proclaim, the love of my life
not the spirits of wondering thoughts
but in the flesh, warm, human touch
oh how I quiver, as your breath tickles my neck
your sturdiness holding the limpness of my body
seeming to know that my strength, tho fleeting
is resurected with just one kiss from you
your whispered words are from a magical land
those images dancing in my head, teasing my eyes
the mixing of colors and glorious sounds are too much
then, as we wrap ourselves around each other
we know our love will never cease
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 9:07 PM UTC
I used to chase needles without thread
Perhaps lace, laced strongly and surely
No doilies for spoiling souls
My mouth an overflowing ashtray
Arms a fracking site deeply polluted
But today I had a taste of freedom
Not full liberation
But unrestraint in the chill of the night air
Immunity in the damp grass
Elbowroom in the dimmed night sky
My brains puppeteer must have taken lunch
Now that I’m not being dragged and pulled
In every which way at full strength
I hope he never comes back
This limpness leaves behind my limitations.
Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 8:19 PM UTC
he's been on my mind lately
still pining for dad
like a child
so many years ago
they said life had gone from him
and even if they could revive him
he had no brain activity
they worked on him on the floor
the official place of death
and left him there for the police
no foul play found
they allowed us to lift his still warm body
onto dignity's bed
my brother had his feet and legs
I had his upper body
lifelessness' limpness surprised me
I almost dropped him as his head fell back
I sat down and a deep breath held my heartbeat
till a loud, slow heave depleted my lungs
I could hear the girls' huddled sobs from another room
a dark carriage came to carry him into dusk
I wanted to run after him
and touch him one more time
like a child
now and then he creeps into my dreams
I can feel the timbre of his voice
laugh at his idiosyncratic antics
reach a hand onto his shoulder
hold him in my memory
then wake up and say good bye
like a child
Del Maximo
© 07/30/13
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
Most wave on our island
we wave as we go by
Some hands
refuse to wave
often wonder
what affliction
could cause
such limpness
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 12:01 PM UTC
My submission to the cosmos today is this
that the minor perturbation atop my vast desire
should not admonish but allow this verse
to see the light in this form of lexical representation
as it issues from my head through my fingers
and under my breath.
That limpness and idleness be banished hereof
from these words that attempt and do not fully fail
to seize the illusive grail of
frank effability.
As such,
Take heed and fear not frail heart of mine that once was lost
for now not only are you found but you are bound
to witness on behalf of
the triumph of longing
in the dark places.
The fumbling, groping, feeling around
when hope eluded you.
Now hope has won and wins again and again.
Faith, Hope and Love.
The greatest of these is now in the fight.
The greatest of these has thrown their gloves into the ring, fit and ready to bring it.
The greatest of these has got your back.
The greatest of these lift you up.
The greatest of these is what you were made for.
The greatest of these is many and splendoured.
The greatest of these is that somebody.
The greatest of these reigns supreme.
The greatest of these is the eternal, number one champion.
The greatest of these is all you need.
*
Belonging to a fold of yearners
As wide, as deep
as language itself.
Let my ambling
meta-critique
be as one more pebble
thrown
adding ripples
to the vistatic loch of contributions
on this theme
echoing, echoing
from the chaos afore time
to adjunct futures
within the Caves, Temples, Palaces
and 'Scrapers of Rhyme.
Jan 3, 2020
Jan 3, 2020 at 7:54 AM UTC
****** tears still fall, feverish and dry.
The river flows on even though,
I'm already dead inside.
I'm no longer welcome at my own funeral.
I lay still and I wait.
For someone to take the burden away,
Along with my limpness body.
I lay in anguish as the smoking gun fades away.
All there is left to do, is to move on and deteriorate.
Our ghost will not rest in peace.
Our dreams won't be killed easily.
The Red River will overflow.
The truth will be known.
The earth will shake,
From the unbearable silence left behind.
In the graveyard of lost dreams,
The truth dies with you.
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC