"lowercase" poems
I don't expect you to get why I have such a hard time moving on, forgiving.
But I also don't expect you to get how bad it hurt.
How it tore me apart.
How your four letter word burned.
1. u
2. g
3. l
4. y
How much that twisted
what I saw in the mirror.
And how it killed me to look at those lowercase ls on my wrist and have them spell
fat
and
ugly
and
you
will
never
change...
Maybe I don't get it either, maybe I don't understand why I let it hurt me.
But it did
and
now
we're
here.
Wondering what happened to
our first love.
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC
just another lovesick poem
written by another sad boy
about
being alone or
rejected or
"in love"
as if any of you
*************
have the experience
to look at another human
and know
to the depths of your soul
that you are
in love
all lowercase
because
love isn't trumpets and fanfare
love is
quiet mornings and
simple dinners and
a willingness to be
vulnerable
love is
"hi babe
I know you've had a rough day at work
so you just lay there and
let me make you
***
or
"I'm gonna make you dinner
and then
I'm gonna tie you up and
**** you"
love is not
what we were taught in church or
on the Disney Channel or
from a Stephanie Meyers novel
love is not
what your parents told you
"wait to have *** until you're
married"
abstinence is good
condoms are bad
your *** should be vanilla
men are dominant
women are submissive
missionary is the only position
*** is about procreation not pleasure
love is self defined; find it for yourself.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 1:59 PM UTC
one day my teacher asked me
why I always wrote in lowercase letters
her glasses perched on the top of her beak
she squawked,
"you were not taught that in school, young lady.
it is not proper, young lady."
and I gripped my pen tighter
or maybe a little looser
it's hard to tell lately.
but I looked in to her black beady eyes
and disapproving frowny face
and whispered "see how I am whispering
do you see how you are leaning closer
like I have a secret
more intimate, correct?
that is my writing:
an intimate secret.
for you"
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 3:34 PM UTC
resuming textual trip
testing experimental procedures
visualizing model tsunami
augmenting facetious environment
catching abstract architecture
noticing rhythmic exchange
projecting subtextual database
airhorning reggae royalty
adding atypical party
resolving twitter question
noticing emotional mission
awaiting emotional dialect
installing metaphorical experiment
intensifying animated trip
displaying dynamic victory
programming abstract development
releasing emotional exchange
deriving fata morgana
glorifying referential sequence
intensifying facetious map
noticing harmonic trip
observing radical ratio
compiling nomadic message
predating google rebranding
reticulating facetious panda
using hyperreal feedback
exploring virtual panda
speculating graphic gallery
throwing mundane exception
targeting graphic experiment
replenishing emotional trap
localizing asemic animal
dropping rhythmic trip
propagating immortal experiment
displaying lowercase database
invading orange bubbles
crashing animated trip
running conceptual topography
remembering collapsed buildings
crashing hyperreal coverage
propagating hyperreal stipulation
finishing western library
envisioning neon tessellation
reciprocating network likes
processing animated device
releasing haptic quality
examining building seven
awaiting rhapsodical ratio
sampling death sauce
sensing lowercase clone
examining symbolic tour
processing potential development
encapsulating spatial lottery
displaying digital paragraph
reticulating theoretical source
perpetuating western paragraph
transmitting monochromatic structure
anticipating ambient quality
transmitting asemic environment
intensifying atomic quality
remastering history poem
keeping future light
hypothesizing eternal game
using future library
rearranging masonic language
transmitting masonic development
continuing ceremonial ritual
questioning party's legitimacy
deferring western coverage
finishing asemic hypertext
mollifying ostentatious presence
synthesizing allegorical icon
forming categorical unions
sketching app wireframe
programming immortal repository
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
Zinc is needed to help support the body's immune system, as well as encourage human growth, meaning that without it, defenses and growth are stunted
I met a boy named Zinc
correction
I met a man named Zinc
correction
I met a man who called himself 'Z' even though his parents still called him 'boy' and named him Zinc, because Neon
was too flamboyant and Iron was too tasteless, and who on earth names their kid 'Oxygen', right?
ANYWAY:
It's worth noting that Z liked everyone, meaning A-X, and I was left wondering why he seemed to like girls who waved with the backs of their hands and not the palms, and why the only time he spoke to me was if I wouldn't leave him alone, and why it's obvious to those around him that lights are flashing in the eyes of 'why'-
correction
-'Y'-
correction
-ME when he noticed the stars I stole from the night in an attempt to spell his name out for the Gods but he was too busy hoping to catch the attention of the Devil and I hope she breaks his heart so he knows what it's like to wake up feeling empty because you gave your all to a person with a gambling problem, and I...
...don't make sense anymore.
ALRIGHT
I met a man who called himself 'Z' even though his parents still called him 'boy' and named him Zinc, and he didn't like the chain around my neck, but he let me wear it because it reminded him of hope, which he had lost when he was young, but had vicariously experienced through me. Just kidding.
Her.
Capital 'H', lowercase '-er', silent 'she's not going to love you like I will'...
I LIED
he doesn't know I wear a cross (or used to) because he's too busy falling in love with the fact that she's got daggers in her eyes and she knows how to dance to all his favorite songs, while I only know the lyrics to them all, and maybe she won't break his heart but she sure as hell won't be gentle with it either because girls like me write about girls like her and girls like her burn books about boys like him.
I'm not sure what this poem is about. Or why it is the way it is. That's a lie.
I know, but I can't say I want to anymore...
TO BE CONTINUED...
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
a lot has changed. i've developed a love for the lowercase.
i lost a love for you.
i gained a love for her. and that shifted to a new thing. a thing i can't always quite explain.
it seems all my work has always been about others. i find inspiration in bricks and dogs and pebbles and people.
and now i'm finding my inspiration in me.
even if i'm scaring me a little. the days are darker shades of grey than i would like but they haven't gotten the best of me yet. and so i keep writing.
because i have to. because i need to. because "where i'm from that **** hurts".
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 10:43 PM UTC
within a prison-like classroom.
i learnt the writer used
"i "
to express his or her's feeling of unimportance.
i promise you.
i've been texting my i's in lowercase letters ever since.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 9:32 PM UTC
english teachers detest me
because i never capitalize my i’s
but they never once bothered
to come and ask me why
uppercase is a privilege
at least, it is in my mind.
it’s reserved for war heroes
or a painter who is blind
i have done nothing remarkable
i have hardly even tried
everything good i’ve done
is eventually cast aside
why do i deserve an uppercase?
or for that matter, why do you?
we’ve done plenty of bad
when there’s plenty of good to do
english teachers detest me
because i never capitalize my i’s
but i will have reason to someday
and i hope that is not a lie
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 7:38 PM UTC
Life is a sacred journey.
No two are the same.
Respect for divergence
is paramount
to a holistic experience.
Life
is not about
status-quo
or
expectations,
t'is simply what's made thereof
Lyphe
is a sacred opportunity
not to be taken lightly
Our Bodies
are our umbilical vessels
which tether us
as mortals
to "Reality,"
which, in itself,
seems to me to be
a reduction of potentials
from chance
to actuality
such ephemeral eternety;
infinite limitations;
actualized potentials;
possible paths-
these are but some of
the koan-like attributes
which lead me to use
the rather ambiguous
and ambitious
term "sacred."
Truly,
it becomes
whatthefucksoever
One may well will
to create thereof.
Action is Manifestation,
yet Thought begets Action.
Therein lies the sacred gift of Life.
'T'is all too oft taken for granted.
Every living being
(i am convinced)
has an equally vivid depth of experience
and I find it more than somewhat offensive
that humans (with a lowercase H)
feel they are the penultimate organism.
All is One
in that existence, itself,
tethers us all
to everything
and probably even beyond,
and so
to be so
hubristic and arrogant
as to assume a hierarchy
so convieñantly crested by mere
**** Sapiens Sapiens*
seems to me to be
an anthrocentric and narcissistic projection
of that meddlesome ages-old archetype
of the "Ego,"
that is to say "God,"
whatthefuckever that means!
Find it in thyself
to be humble enough
to accept that each and every iota of "Creation"
is, by virtue of association, equally sacred; divine.
Heirarchy, thus, seems to be a manifestation of some desire for order; control; a yearning to alleviate some hypothetical insecurity as a result of being essentially "absolute, infinite" (vis-a-vis the domain of Consciousness) yet contained within a vessel that is mortal, and, thus, ephimeral.
The Ego doth so loathe it's own limitations:
too bad it's far too arrogant to realize that most of the limitations it experiences are illusions, allusions;
charades of an insatiable Consciousness
Hell-bent on experiencing something
it won't redily allow itself to experience!
What a Holy fuckton of
incredulous, ineffable, impalpable, inspirational **** that would be, eh?! (insert interrobang)
I am me (I think...)
as thou art thee;
so why can't that just be good enough?
Could it be?
What obstruction precludes such harmonious divergence?
I reckon 't'is but us;
and very little else, indeed!
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 9:37 AM UTC
such a small word
blending into the background
always making an appearance
but never recognized
so used
so beaten up
so lost among the swirling fog
such a simple concept
but as familiar to us as water
slowly trickling over our sentences
over our words
embellishing our writing without us even knowing
sometimes
i like to think
that we should become more aware
of the little things
of the tiny details
of the lowercase
in our lives
-k.l.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
when I was five, my parents gave me a book about a rainbow fish instead of the princess one I wanted. waterworks began.
when I was six, I checked out a book from the school library about the tooth fairy. I read it over and over again because I was too nervous to return it.
when I was seven, I started taking dance lessons. my teacher had bright blonde hair that she always kept in a ponytail. I wanted to be exactly like her.
when I was eight, I learned how to write in cursive. I made a point of showing my teacher how the lowercase 's' looked like a Hershey's Kiss.
when I was nine, I wrote an essay for school about a cat. my teacher told me I didn't have to revise like the other kids because I had already written it so well. I was ecstatic.
when I was ten, my best friend moved away and I cut my hair short. it was the first time I had to learn how to start over.
when I was eleven, I argued myself to tears on the playground, thus discovering passion.
when I was twelve, I almost tripped down the stairs after school every day because I refused to put my book down.
when I was thirteen, I made my way into a group of friends that had hearts of gold and eyes of steel. we felt invincible.
when I was fourteen, I watched as by best friend silently collapsed into a heap of tiny, broken pieces. I learned that the nicest people can be incredibly hard headed.
now I'm fifteen. I don't know everything, but I do understand that life never goes as planned. I understand that we are wonderfully accustomed to adapting to unprecedented circumstances. I understand that picking yourself up off the bathroom floor time and time again takes strength and resilience. I understand that you're good at being you, and that is always a compliment.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 11:35 PM UTC
I used to do it slow
Drag the knife like a violin bow
Just to see my blood
Spill out the way it should
slices in lowercase
BLOOD pours in caps
pAiN is togglecase
CaLm is toggled opposite
I used to feel spite
Nipping at my heart day and night
But then I found the knife
And everything was alright
slices in lowercase
BLOOD pours in caps
pAiN is togglecase
CaLm is toggled opposite
I used to be so good
Better than any child ever could
And then the pAiN found me
So dense, it is, I cannot see
slices in lowercase
BLOOD pours in caps
pAiN is togglecase
CaLm is toggled opposite
I used to write letters
And hope they'd know me better
When I finally left this world
Ripped free like an oyster's pearl
slices in lowercase
BLOOD pours in caps
pAiN is togglecase
CaLm is toggled opposite
I'm a different person now.
I'm no longer in pAiN
I'm living in apathy
In ever-constant rain
Slices are merely cuts
And blood is nothing big
Pain is simply life
And calm is nonexistent
The method behind the madness
Always shows in the end
I cut my arms to see my blood,
Feel the pain and realize I'm alive again.
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 2:03 AM UTC
no, i am not a first grader
incapable of knowing when to capitalize
and i type in lowercase to be nonchalant
i don't capitalize 'i' because
i am not important
my self worth is lower than the Mariana Trench
it's hard for me to even address
myself without feeling annoying
i am not more important than the word prestigious
i'm not more pretty than the word beautiful
i am not as nice as the word affectionate
i'm not as secure as the word trustworthy
it's so hard to reprogram your brain to accept
that you can be of some worth, that you can be
desirable at all after years of too much thinking
and being alone and trapped in my mind
everyday i must try my best to remind myself
that the subject of a sentence is being
complemented by the beautiful words
like the way a close friends complement you
i have to remember that there are people there for me
even if my head tries to tell me otherwise
it's a struggle every time, but
'I'
just have to try
May 7, 2021
May 7, 2021 at 5:25 PM UTC
Here in the capitol
of lowercase relations
your drink is holding
yard sales for you.
Among headstones is a table, a lock, a plate of cucumbers
and salamanders (which can be pickled), a bowl of raisins --
a handful -- skating the bowl's concavity,
trying to
become round.
If a condition of space travel was one could nevermore return,
how many astronauts do you think
there'd have been?
More stars in lawschool than the cosmos.
Somewhere there's a story
of Indians singing
instead of pointing and laughing
when the Pilgrims came
and the Atlantic dropped off
into the earth's crust behind them. You see
pickles can't become cucumbers again. Everyone who died
drunk driving in World War II knows that.
But still
ovens dream of one day being iceboxes,
and the ice cubes all know this
and it makes them sweat.
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 3:38 PM UTC
i was born at the heart of a ribbon jam
my analog pulse
tap
tap
tapping
out the lyrics of my fight song
since day one
india ink sludge blood has flowed
from my dog-earred heart
straight through to my ball-point fingertips
my DNA lays in cursive wait
leaping from the pages
into the light
at every aching plot twist
card catalogued depictions
not of how events factually unfolded
but of how it seems they could have unravelled
if this were a paperback i'd planned to read
and re-read
alike
but alas
when the lights go out
that's it for this round
and i'll be down for the count
no matter how hard i fight
but words...
words know not death
solely evolution
they change their shape
their time
their place
a word can only fade
like aerosol on dust colored cinder
a single word will outlive one hundred empires
one thousand governments
ten thousand authors
and so
it's within articulation that my loyalty lay
and in my words that i'll find my home
here
in the lowercase swoops and loops
of the 'A's
and the 'E's
and the 'D's
and the 'G's
...and those little cursive 'Z's that hang just the same as mom's old hammock
yeah
home
with every inhalation of stale inhabitation
i'll exhale a poem
my regenerative reincarnation through catalytic creation
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 4:34 AM UTC
i only write in capital letters for a purpose
when my words are silent, i don't speak up
capitalization is symbolism for power
for cries and outbursts of dreams spread forth and shot down
because of the american dream
i only write in capital letters WHEN I WANT TO BE HEARD
to put forth an emphasis on my actions, to mask true emotions through my powerful speech
i want to write your name in capitals just so you know what you mean to me
(YOU)
(YOU)
(YOU)
YOU are ENOUGH
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 8:14 AM UTC
quietly
please don't look at me
fill me
with immense anxiety
i'm not here
i'm not real
intensely numb
cannot feel
unimportant to you and your day
please don't acknowledge me, stay away
the background - let me become
it's all i really want when the day is done
fade away, throwaway
is all i'll ever be
i'm impossibly unimportant
insignificantly me
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC
i.
as we get bigger
our handwriting gets
smaller
ii.
stars are bigger than
the sky itself
but their light forces
the past into the present
and forces our wishes
into the past
iii.
there are so many
women out there with
my name but
this increases the likelihood
that you've said it
out loud
and identified me
with sound as i have
you
sound travels slower
than light but we are never
alone
iv.
she showed me your
picture with some words
square tight around it
and two dates in the caption
and said
nothing is ever worth this
until i wanted to reach
into the earth just to
cover your ears
v.
the dementors couldn't
distinguish between crouch
and his mother because
this illness doesn't discriminate
so i don't know why
people do
vi.
you and even
i
are lowercase letters
today
with no punctuation
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 10:55 PM UTC
I'm typing in lowercase letters but dreaming in capitals.
i'm swallowing pills and alcohol to numb the pain hoping for solitude in a bottle.
you're cute, i think?
sitting over there at the bar staring at me like i could be someone you want to get to know.
you're cute, i think?
but baby, i'm just a drunk girl at a bar taking too many drugs to even care about what your name is so please stop talking.
you slide over a glass of scotch, neat and cold, disgusting as i drink it down.
you keep talking about how pretty my eyes are and how cute my hair is and where'd i get that nice dress and why is a cute girl like you at a bar all alone.
please... stop talking.
your hand is creeping up my thigh, and I'm too numb to stop you
the pills are kicking in and you are starting to look like him...
If i drink a little more maybe i can stomach going home with you and drowning my pain with lust.
but for the love of god, please stop talking.
he left three months ago, took his clothes and a toothbrush and headed out.
he kissed my cheek... he said he'd be on the next train home as soon as he could and left with no explanation.
he's married now.
his kids are cute.
he named one after me... which is disgusting and i wonder if his wife knows.
you are still there... wonderful.
i take one last swig of liquor and grab your hand; stumbling from the bar and slurring my words.
i laugh, because it's cute when girls laugh right?
you smile -- and i really can't tell are you ugly or not?
who ******* cares.
i'm typing in lowercase letters dreaming in capitals.
i'm going to go home with this man and pretend he's you.
cheers to drowning out the noise in lust and liquor.
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 6:38 PM UTC
WHEN I WRITE ABOUT YOU
I WANT TO WRITE IN ALL CAPS
BECAUSE YOU ARE MOMENTOUS
AND EXCITING
AND WORTH SO MUCH MORE
THAN LOWERCASE LETTERS.
YOU ARE THE SUN BEAMING AT NOON
NOT LIGHTLY ON THE FACE
OF DAFFODILS AND CHERRY TREES
BUT SCREAMING THROUGH WINDOW BLINDS
OF TEENS TOO BEATEN DOWN
TO CLIMB OUT OF BED.
YOU ARE FUZZY CHRISTMAS SOCKS
AND HEAVY QUILT BLANKETS
NOT BECAUSE OF YOUR WARMTH AND SINCERITY
BUT BECAUSE OF THE WAY
YOU ENGULF EVERYTHING YOU TOUCH
AND MAKE THEM A PART OF
A SEA OF COMFORT AND REMEMBRANCE.
YOU ARE 3 AM EPIPHANIES
YOU ARE THE END OF A STORY MADE OF PROMISES AND BUMPY PLOT LINES
YOU ARE A BOUNCE CASTLE AT A KID'S BIRTHDAY PARTY.
YOU ARE CREAM CHEESE BROWNIES,
STARS SPRINKLED IN THE SKY,
THE FINGERTIPS OF A KINDERGARTNER IN THE WINTER
TOO STUBBORN TO WEAR GLOVES.
YOU ARE EVERYTHING IN THE WORLD
ANYONE COULD HAVE ASKED YOU TO BE
BUT YOU ARE MOST DEFINITELY NOT
LOWERCASE LETTERS.
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 1:23 PM UTC
chocolate-coated infancy
spilled torn sharkbit souls
hallucinating the
orange-creamsicle sunrise,
mushroomming cotton-candylike.
Sanctified, the horizon
of dog lovers empty,
but leashes lashing the common man,
for he is no icon.
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC
Do you people know.
How much this **** gets real?
Do you know how it makes my heart drop?
Throw-up.
So many Amore chunks.
You ever hung a persons tongue from a wire hanger?
Then let them convulse.
I'm about to do that on my nickel wound stirngs, I'll never stop having a pulse.
I got the only pulse.
Iv'e destroyed every vein in my body with notes of
putrefying chaos beauty.
SCREAM. SHRIEK!
The jazz tones palpitate my tongue,
chatter my teeth,
destruct my *****
The ones in my feet
Like drugs
only positive
motive based
rather than sordid.
All things are bruises
if you look hard enough
symphony of colorful E's.
positive, negativity.
Skram, ,Dock, Cross, Plot.
Rotatilled rows of pounding chest, human humanity.
The epic of chimpanzee.
Never understanding.
Being alone.
I will never be anyone else
Anonymous
I atone.
i wish i could make all my i's lowercase.
Freeverse, with a dial tone,
Trying to call out to every person by undeniable tension and catharsis
like rigor mortis death ligaments,
such purposeful
pretty
I believe every single woman/man
creating this. This
means more to my spirit.
than being sad.
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 6:37 PM UTC
.you could possibly rewrite the sudoku puzzle, using letters, i.e., to replace 4, 6, 8, 9... with D, b, B and P... alternatively the lowercase b with Q.
. i really have to stop borrowing
from the Zen concept
of ensō - with what the "circle"
represents -
namely? heihō, i.e. the "square" -
namely, what comes after
absolute enlightenment,
strength, elegance, the universe,
and mu (the void) -
i.e., alternatively: the nu, or?
the filling...
heihō is an elevated noun
denoting a sudoku puzzle...
it begins with the key and lock
analogy, borrowed from greek:
Φ (insert the key)
θ (turn it, open the door,
and subsequently enter) -
all sudoku puzzles begin like so...
□ that becomes Φ, θ
that becomes #
that subsequently becomes ■ -
after many instances of
—, |, / and \ considerations...
this idea only came to mind,
bothered by an obstruction
on the 10,050 puzzle...
0 0 0
0 4 2
1 3 9
2 7 5
4 6 8
8 9 4
3 2 0 } these three blanks
0 0 7 i was concerned with...
1 0 0
0 0 5
0 6 0
___________
x y z
___________
( 6 5 1 )
( 5 1 6 )
( 1 ) **** no alternatives...
and given there's a fractional choice,
conundrum, i.e. there are only
two viable choices?
well? neither.
the solution? i had to be patient with it,
after all, it's akin to Zen "circle"
concept, namely?
you can't make a mistake -
given you're using such, "primitive"
tools as a pen on paper...
5 8 6 4 3 9 2 1 7
7 4 2 1 6 8 3 9 5
9 1 3 5 7 2 8 6 4
1 3 9 7 2 4 5 ζ 6
2 7 5 3 8 6 9 γ 1
4 6 8 9 5 1 7 3 2
8 9 4 2 1 5 χ 7 3
3 2 1 6 9 7 4 5 8
6 5 7 8 4 3 1 2 9
yet this wasn't the pinnacle of
the evening...
some "madwoman", singing,
in the night... the most beautiful songs...
it was hard not to listen,
given she went on for about 3 hours...
kept singing and singing...
sometimes giving
a frivolous explanation to someone
trying to interrupt her...
a woman in love...
just kept singing and singing...
defiantly english -
i can't recall the last time
i heard a woman sing so beautifully -
not armed, standing behind
a microphone, on a stage -
with a band behind her...
this girl's voice had but one stage:
the night -
and her backing band?
simply the moon;
and an appreciative audience of one...
moi.
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 8:00 PM UTC
winding
spinning
grasping
sinning
follow the motions
read them aloud
the flick at the end
of your lowercase d
ignites me
when you say
you're aroused
whipping
digging
curving
and looping
i study your prose
nectar trickling down
body curved like a c
lips pursed patiently
my dear,
how are your o's so perfectly round?
rhythmic
shaking
stirring
quaking
the stroke of your pen
is all i can see
without physicality
my floodgates are opened
with poetry
you stroke me
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 3:40 PM UTC