"messier" poems
Never let someone else decide how good you are. And never make an exception to that rule.
Your words, and your unique we of expressing them, are a gift given to you. If someone else doesn't appreciate them, then good for them. It's not their gift, so it has nothing to do with them. Its your responsibility to respect your gifts and to protect them from negativity; typical of these lower life forms, called Haters; annoying little creatures that feed off of other people's energy and hard work - they spawn fairly quickly and dewl in the depths of social media, hidden behind computer and smartphone screens. Usually over-weight, bad breath, single and filthy broke. Hindered by limited hand-eye coordination; they simply **** at every thing. They are pretty pathetic, in person. I mean they look human, but have no spinal cord, so they don't stand up straight. Their habitats similar to that of a large roach, just messier with and more filth. I hear they are contagious, so be careful. Don't let their negativity rub off on you, or you will end up like one of them. A soulless zombie, paroling posts looking for a something stupid to say.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
It's hard.
I know.
It's a struggle,
with no end.
It's getting messier,
day by day.
But never forget
Our nationalities.
Our identities.
Who we are.
Who are we.
Because this is
Our place.
Our land.
Our home.
And we defend it.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 4:03 AM UTC
11-6-14
I saw my name on your contacts list
and wondered how many times your finger hovered over the "call" button.
---
I hope you, or at least someone
thinks at least some things about me are cute
the way my hair sticks up and then flops over when I try to fix it
and, when pinned up, the way it becomes gradually messier over the course of the day.
When I mouth the words to a song on the school bus,
scrunching my eyes and headbanging,
or when I spin around on my heels, and try to look graceful.
---
Frick, I shouldn't try to write about love, i'm just a thirteen-year-old girl
who grew up on the internet
and doesn't care about the ****** music she's listening to.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 7:27 PM UTC
I held the cold piece of metal against my warm skin
I put it down, I picked it up
I put it back down
Maybe it was because I was too much of a coward
Or maybe it was because I wasn't enough of a coward
Life was a messy business
Cheating it was even messier
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 9:52 AM UTC
i want to remember with you,
i want to forget with you.
the times when time would fly by
like the birds on the horizon
of this pastel oklahoma sky
never within reach,
but we’d always find a way
to make a pseudo-artsy instagram photo of the sight
i’d try to summon thoughts to speak,
to fill in awkward silence with awkward advances
but then i’d look at you,
bitten lips
sun-stained face
half chewed nails
and the last thing i wanted to hear
was the sound of my own voice
i used to imagine your hair a little messier,
your eyes a little kinder,
your style a little more eccentric,
but i never wanted to change who you are.
i want to remember with you,
i want to forget with you.
when we’d sit and stare at the people
we wished we never met,
and the one’s we didn’t want to.
drowning in our own cynicism
i think i was the one holding your head underwater
and i’m sorry my half-empty attitude got the best of us,
but hating people was what made us fall in love,
and i’ve never admitted to being a pessimist
because i never wanted to be.
i wanted to be what you wanted.
i want to remember with you
i want to forget with you
skipping stones across a dried up river
making wishes, singing jimi hendrix
like it was the soundtrack to our summer.
i felt the most vulnerable whenever we'd drive home
and the most infinite
the wind combing my hair,
your hand in mine
we both knew what we were thinking,
but neither of us said it,
not wanting to ruin the moment,
not wanting it to be the truth.
i want to remember with you
i want to forget with you
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 3:39 AM UTC
"Why do we always end up here?"
I thought, as we sat down
At the same old bench
For the millionth time.
I thought about how we came here
In a mid-may storm,
My makeup washed away,
And I heard you really laugh for the first time,
So I smiled for the rest of the day.
I thought about the first time I heard the words
"I love you" slip off your lips,
And how you swore we would make it work.
My hair got messier than the words you couldn't say,
And I saw you shut me out for the first time,
But I kissed you anyway.
"Why do we always end up here?"
You ask, as we settle in
At the same old bench
For the millionth time.
I smiled to myself,
And I realized
"It's just a really good place to sit."
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 11:10 PM UTC
Whether you refer yourself as the Spiral Galaxy Messier 31,
Or the Greek Mythology daughter of an Aethiopian King,
I can be the Stars to your Galaxy.
I can be the Perseus that saves you from Death.
I can be your best friend.
But I understand that Trust comes a long way,
Just lemme know when you trust me enough,
And maybe we can create something the world has never seen before.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 1:33 PM UTC
i fell for the quirky guy
with messy hair
& an even messier heart.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 5:28 AM UTC
I should have known that when I fell in love with someone that made every sunset more
beautiful, and every smile more heartfelt, and every bird chirp the sweetest melody,
I should have known when I fell in love with a girl like her,
that someone else would too.
Someone else would feel the electricity when she enters a room,
and someone else would notice the baby hair
that flies around her head like a halo.
I should have known someone else would see the freckle in her eye
and the burn on her chest
and marvel at their beauty.
I thought I was the only one she made beautiful sunsets for,
until I found out that I wasn't.
And I realized my mistake.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
I'm fading away
Fading fast
Hoping I won't disappear
Into nowhere
Girls and ***
Lust and regrets
Drugs and coke
Drinks and rage
Are some things that I sink into
The sin that I own
I pray for it to wash away
Only to get ***** again
I pray for it to wash away
Get *****
Wash away
Get *****
Wash away
Get *****
Wash away
Get *****
Wash away
Get *****
Wash away
Get *****
Wash away
Get *****
Wash away
Get *****
Wash away
Get *****
Wash away
Get *****
Wash away
Get *****
Again
And again
And again
Finally can't get clean
Can't stop
Each day gets messier and messier
Filth protrudes in my fingernails
Filth protrudes inside my body
I don't want to get clean
I want to be messy
I want to be nasty
I want to be *****
I'm filthy and I love to be filthy
I feel sick
But I love it
I don't need saving
I don't need anybody or anything
I only need the filth
I can't live without the filth
I want to disappear in the filth
I want to go away in it
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 2:10 AM UTC
You almost kissed me,
and you shouldn't have.
On the gingham tablecloth in the yellow light,
you lifted me from the counter top onto my feet
putting your hat on my head and tickling my ribs.
You know it's my sweet spot,
leads straight to my heart if you're gentle enough.
I told you to stop and you walked away,
eyes lingering on my bare skin between where my top ended on my waist
and where my dark denim jeans began to hug my hips.
I flipped my hair back around, joining in some conversation too late
between a girl drunk on grape juice and a wedding crasher straggler
in a forest green flannel with camel cigarettes in the pocket.
That's when you came back over and started yelling
some story that happened to you the night before.
You told it well,
the circle captivated, me mesmerized
by how blue your eyes stayed all this time without me noticing.
You had the whole room laughing with your wit and stupid vernacular,
but I was smiling because you looked so beautiful in those drunken
honest moments
where I recognized the person beneath the banter
where I saw you.
I was saying my goodbyes to the carhartt boys and their one night girls
when you grabbed me by the hand and spun me around
like we were dancing,
pulled me in by your hand pressed on my shoulder blades
the other around my waist
I gasped as your lips almost touched mine,
but then you looked down at me
with those same blue eyes
and took a deep breath,
slowly letting your hands glide down my back then to your sides.
I just stared back at you,
wishing you'd forget the logic and put your hands back where they were,
tracing your lips with that almost kiss,
and I could feel how much you wanted to be in this moment
desperately searching for a way to my lips
but something stopped us.
And I think it was because we knew it would only lead to something messier
than where we were at
it would be a backwards romance, reversing our ***** footsteps
in something we've tried and tried to understand
that it never works out the way either of us plans.
We were both doing so well, moving on
but in that moment we almost gave all that strength up
gave into something too tempting and too wrong.
Because we can't really stay away from each other all that long.
I mean,
you almost kissed me
and you shouldn't have,
but I swear
I wish you would have.
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 1:14 PM UTC
*delicate swirls
abstract motif
dainty spirals*
I.
I see you as a wide sheet of fabric
Beautiful, paisley pattern
Highlighting your odd qualities
That I love, more than you could get.
How you shimmer and shine
So well.
II.
Yet, I knew not that there exists -
Very quietly bold and calmly geometric;
Another sheet beneath this visible one
A layer concealed, that only my oblivion feels.
How you shiver and hide
So well.
III.
So, as I learn and delve and discover
Burrowing passages and intense pathways
A myriad of tunnels within tunnels
Where is the real you?
How alone; thought I knew you
So well.
IV.
Am I thus lost?
Blinded so by the light in your patterns....
[said in one breath:
so, I try to brush ever lightly over artefacts of your stained existence,
ensuring I leave no trace of me...
there I go making a new layer (for me)
only to see...another layer....and yet
another....]
layer upon
layer upon
layer upon
layer upon....
layerrrr.
V.
Into the icy face of wind, words are flung
Only, they come back...messier!
Disaster.....blast the blundering heart in dusty chokes
Love thrives not in intemperate climes.
At which point did you let your voice die?
Perhaps you hide in fear, of suffering alone....
So long.
VI.
There stands a figure in the circle of light....lonesome
We hover near the highly-charged cosmos of chance
Daring the winds to take us, off guard
To glide away on impossible parades....
S T, 28 April 2013
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 11:56 AM UTC
Life can be hard when your thoughts are messier than your bed could ever be.
Sentences, phrases, words, anything just racing around my mind.
Sometime I can sort them, catagorise them in a way that makes them easier to perceive.
But sometimes, that's not the case.
They twist and manipulate as if my mind is a kaleidoscope and every new thought just adds another fragment to the broken picture inside my head.
Maybe it would help to understand, or maybe it would just add to the confusion.
I wish I understood why my mind works like this, in these confusing an mysterious ways.
Perhaps one day I'll understand why they behave this way, but for now I'll continue trying to organise my racing thoughts.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 2:33 PM UTC
I just want to put my lips on you.
I want you to feel what my kiss feels like against your skin.
You're beautiful on the out and you're
Beautiful on the in
Beautiful
Like a sun kissed beach in the dead of winter,
Like a leech
I will shed you of your skin and **** you down to the ocean and encourage you to swim
Dive in.
Like Trey Songz, but you're sexier.
The *** will be messier
-because I'm so attracted to you
Linguistically attached to you-
Borderline infatuated
Suspended in poetic serenity.
I just want to put my lips on you.
I want you to feel what my kiss feels like against your skin.
I want to worship you in places that God would surely tell me were unholy and forever-more my temple will be barricaded with sin
And I'll tell God,
Tonight, I am not Christian.
Tonight, I want to make devilishly passionate love to you
Tonight
You will feel my lips against your skin.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 7:36 PM UTC
i had missed too many sunsets hurting in silence. to this day, the sky is in a graying shade of blue. to this day, it is mournful and decaying over me — or inside me, i do not know. i had lost count of the months i shunned the sunsets and headed straight — disgracefully, to the arms of the dusk. besides, falling apart looked harsher, and messier, and more vivid in the light. and so i had missed too many sunsets; this too, is becoming a wound.
i wish i were kinder to myself.
i wish i could forgive myself.
Nov 8, 2020
Nov 8, 2020 at 4:37 AM UTC
Worlds Hide In Your Pale Yellow Dust,
Worlds Who Don't Know The Pain Of Trust, Who Is Inside You Cosmic Rose?
Can I Unlock Your Mysteries?
Billions Of Stars Are Alive In Your Petals,
You Amaze Me,
I Can't Even Wrap My Head Around Your Beauty,
Is That Where I Will Go?
When I Look At You I Forget All About Misery,
My Human Brain To Clueless About You Nature,
Even Though I Am A Foreign Creature,
There Is No Need To Be A Xenophobe,
Oh Cosmic Rose May I Swim In Your Beauty?
I Know I Will Drown Inside Your Whirling Depths,
But Im No Longer Afraid Of Death,
I Crave To Know Your Secrets,
I Will Die Trying To Know,
Cosmic Rose May I Run Along Your Winds?
Can You Teach Me The Language Of The Stars?
So I Can Speak To The Worlds In Messier 104,
And Or Maybe Even A The Ice Incrusted World Europa?
Cosmic Rose,
Take Me Please,
Give Me A Tour That Will Last The Rest Of My Mortal Life,
Cosmic Rose,
Let Me Explore All Of The World Which Holds My Universe,
My Home,
Cosmic Rose,
Would You,
Could You,
Let Me Meet Your Extraterrestrial Children?
Cosmic Rose,
Please,
Give Me The Knowledge,
To Know....
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 3:45 PM UTC
Talk to me
Talk to me about half-finished journals and empty theaters
Talk to me about the calluses on the soles of your feet
Do you think they look like art?
Talk to me about the bobby pins stuck between the sheets of your bed
Talk to me about the broken doorbell in your childhood house
Why have you never gotten it fixed?
Do you think it says a lot about your family?
Do you think it’s a metaphor for your parents’ relationship?
Talk to me about the ghosts in your head
I wanna see if they look like mine
If they were friends in some past, unfulfilled life
Talk to me about kites
Talk to me about knee high socks
What do they remind you of?
Talk to me about spilled lemonade
Does the sourness still linger on your tongue
Long after the mess as been mopped up?
Talk to me about your 10th grade English teacher
Do you resent her blatant favouritism?
Do you wonder why she didn’t like you the best?
Do you ever wonder why
It seems like nobody likes you the best?
Talk to me about the peonies in the garbage chute
Talk to me about untied shoelaces
And an 8 year old’s skinned knees
Talk to me about slippery floors
Talk to me about illegal downloads
Talk to me about Tarsiers
Talk to me about oil pastels
Do you prefer them over any other art medium
Because they are dirtier, messier and more difficult to work with it?
Talk to me about recycling
Do you think it’s pointless?
Or do you think it’s gonna make a significant difference?
Talk to me about Broadway musicals
Talk to me about Hercules
Have you ever dreamed of being immortalized
Through the whispering of the stars?
Talk to me about god
Do you think god made man
Or did man make god?
Talk to me about clay pots
Talk to me about cacti
Talk to me about the color grey
Talk to me about plastic balloons
When did you learn that the art of letting go
Is closely intertwined with the tragedy of loss?
Talk to me about films
Talk to me about knuckles
What do you tell your grandmother
When she asks why they are bruised and wounded?
Talk to me about Geishas
Talk to me about roadtrips
And that one time when you were 15
And you drove away in your older brother’s car
Feeling young and reckless and so so alive
Talk to me about pain
Every stabbing hurt
Every mouth filled with blood
Talk to me about joy
Both the abundance and the lack of it
Talk to me about love
And warmth
And light
And the sound of coming home
Talk to me
Write your life’s story on torn Christmas wrappers
And I will hold them in my hands like sacred beads of prayer
Talk to me
Open the cracks of your spine and engulf me in the shade of your eyes
Talk to me
Let me in
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 5:19 AM UTC
Life is a pill that I find best to be swallowed with hard liquor. I felt God-like when I first discovered alcohol; how sweet a bird it was to keep the world at such a distance. I could talk about all the ways I feel like the world owes me something, like it owes me repercussions for all these storms that I've weathered. I am graceless and ***** and bitter. I am teeth and nails and broken smiles. I am a wreck in search of a ship. I throw punches without knowing where they'll land. I act now and I apologize later. I am messier than you wanted. I won't pretend there's anything special about my suffering, I won't pretend it isn't self-inflicted. I tell you it's fine and that I'm used to burning in the fires I start and that I'm not scared of scars or sleeping alone, but my mother says I can't carry all this hurt around inside me forever. She says one day I'll just collapse. One thing I've learned about reality is that it does not have the decency to remove its rings before it hits you hard, so you might as well learn to keep it at a distance.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 10:45 PM UTC
tickle tickle tickle
giggle giggle giggle
why you're so adorable and lovable
humble humble humble
simple simple simple
why this heartbeat getting louder yet messier
apple apple apple
waffle waffle waffle
couldn't get enough to be your good listener
mister mister mister
crazier crazier crazier
would you please be my special pleaser?
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 9:46 AM UTC
I want to put you back together again
Piece by piece.
I want the struggle of not knowing where things go
And i want the victory of finally making you whole.
But you are more than just a game
You are the shattered fragments of a glass vase
That i vowed to return back to its original state before mother gets home.
You are the superglue sticking to my fingers making this messier than it should be.
You are that small shard of glass i stepped on after i thought i picked up everything.
You are my constant reminder to breathe.
You are my constant reminder of battle.
You we my constant reminder of time.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
My rough past, a lonely gravel path that directed me here
One riddled with loathing and fear from myself and every peer
It all pales in comparison to each and every fallen tear
Added to the unforgiving shame of having tried to check out that one year
It's this reign of pain that stops me in my tracks like headlights freezing a deer
It's clear I don't know how to steer and can not get out of first gear
My entire windshield is a rearview mirror, the next tragedy always closer than they appear
My over corrections and over reactions are too severe, they're starting to break down the veneer
Put in place to simulate normalcy and hide the real me but I'm a horrible engineer
The intentions were sincere but this cavalier attitude never allowed the good in me to adhere
I've given in to my dark passenger allowing it to commandeer the space between each ear
At the time I thought it'd be far messier if I tried too interfere with the puppeteer
So I grabbed a few memories as a souvenir and tried to disappear
©2023
Dec 15, 2023
Dec 15, 2023 at 4:40 PM UTC
There is something with the way he looks at me.
It’s like he’s saying-
"Hey, you have dirt on your face.
Your lipstick is awkwardly traced on your lips.
Your dress highlights the layers on your tummy.
And it is no question that your hair is not having the time of its life.
But I wont judge you for those.
I wont judge you for the mess that you are and for the messier that you’ll be.
So yes, I’m hoping that you can also fall in love with me."
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 11:37 PM UTC
We had *** to the Bell Spelunking
Of Andy Bird, Saturday night,
And when I stuck your ****
Into aghast chasms you said
There was nothing. Tingles
Pinpricks on your spine.
You cannot feel me.
Outside your glass eyes beneath
Dark cool lenses, and I am but
A freshly born babe, clutching
My sexuality in greedy paws,
Bashing the shell upon my chest.
I bit your **** You cannot feel me.
It bled. You cannot feel me.
I am distraught over years of wasted dental work
And twenty cavities.
You only feel me when I am ***** deep
Brushing the holy grail of slash fanfiction
And in reality it's a messier, uglier
Business, and I don't know, I am a newborn,
I am a newborn, I was just born today
As a sinful lump of flesh, as
A lump on the log of love,
And we can never be married and
You cannot feel me.
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 5:21 AM UTC
Can't you tell that my mind is just messier and messier with thoughts of you? And I crave the blade and I crave the smoke but most of all I crave your touch. I fear you crave her touch again. I fear you the recklessness she poured into you. I fear I'll lose you to her. I've already lost myself to these thoughts.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 10:00 AM UTC
here, i've built up
a collection of kilometers;
a fever, written out in stains,
coffee against fingertips; an
indomitable anomie. this
room gets messier by the day,
it won't be clean come
winter. spring. the day you
decide to break down and
call. there are twigs between
these disheveled sheets.
i'm
stagnating. i'm fluorescing,
only for you. only, you can't
see it. just yet, at least.
increments grasp in quiet
moments. sometimes this
clay in my eyes takes your
shape. sometimes i wonder.
sometimes i wish you'd come
over. all times i fall a little
further down.
i've been here before.
but not like this. drowning
on open land. quietness
by any other name.
propinquity, or inertia.
or simple lonesome.
predictably, i lose dreams.
you lean in close,
eyes alight.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 7:58 PM UTC