"mimick" poems
I am Darkness.
Some people do not understand me.
Some people worship me.
No matter what they say, the truth will always be the same.
I am Darkness, and no one can change that.
Little kids fear me.
Something about me is foreign to them.
Their instincts act first and they fear me.
That does not change me, though.
I am Darkness, after all.
Then the kids grow up.
To some, I am no longer feared.
To others, I continue to be their fear.
This does not phase me.
I will always remain in the corner of your eye.
I am Darkness.
I know all of your secrets.
I know all of your hardships, your joys and your triumphs.
I take the form of a shadow.
I mimick your every move, but I cannot speak for myself.
I am Darkness, and I will always be by your side.
On the fourth day, God said "Let there be light."
I remained for those three days.
I did not disappear, though.
I became the shadow during the day.
I am Darkness.
Your monitor begins to beep.
Your strength is slowly fading.
Your eyes battle to see that one glimmer of light.
Do not fear being alone, though.
Do you remember what I said?
I am Darkness.
No matter where you go or how far you go...
You will always come back to me.
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 3:06 AM UTC
He loves
her hair
finger tips
summer dips
fall skips
missed periods
no love
for that
no love
for unwanted children
parasiting in a belly
unfit for a home
so scared
they were
to tell parents
who would know what they'd say
would they be grounded?
They didn't think
about the child
were selfish
to not tell
were selfish
to keep it
secret
brought it into the world
birthed with silent screams
left for life
maybe
on a door step
no tears
just remorse
and relief
and who could blame
such people
for not wanting
to be responsible?
Not us
for we only want fun
I know I do
want to feel good
to be loved
even if it means
acts of unkindness:
outcomes that mimick
newborn mistakes,
our results are crying infants of moments of selfish pleasure
come to life
only later, the aftermath of a long-since let go desire.
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 7:10 PM UTC
Fish heads for dessert
Confetti-saltwater taffy for lunch
Canned laughter for snack
And peptide bonds for a well balanced breakfast
"But whats for dinner?" says The Windbag
"But whats for dinner?!" screeches The Mimick
Hmm, well we have a choice between the sociocultural criteria and a toxic relationship
"Can't we have popsicles with answer-less riddles on the sticks?" asked the Windbag
"Can't we have popsicles with answer-less riddles on the sticks?!" copied The Mimick
"Leeme alone!" cried the Windbag
"Leeme alone!!" yelled The Mimick
In the end the decided to eat the pockmarks of bird feeding cohorts
They picked their teeth with proven points
Then watched The Windbag play the glockenspiel
Followed by The Mimick on the xylophone
As I put the leftover scraps in Tupperware, making sure to burp it before I put it away
-Tommy Johnson
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC
I have seen a lot of girls, some made me feel like ice,
This day, i dreamt of a pretty lady, her voice made me raise,
she got intellect, I drew the pillow closer with a smile on my face,
she was blessed with beauty, like a goddess from another race,
each time I drew closer to her, it flet like home,
I didn't want this to be over,
I could see the curiosity in her eyes, the love in her heart;
the mystery in her speech, I couldn't wait to unleash the dragon in me,
I have dreamed & dreamt & dreamt & dreamed,
of an angel, **** to the toe,
I may be an ordinary poet but I will make you rain again & again,
I wanna have my first child with you, travel the world & learn all the words,
you made me feel love like an electric shock,
well, now I can be sure how it feels like to love,
there is no law in love, its all a heart connection,
I have had convos with alot of girls, non like you,
now I'm grasping for air,
you remind me of someone, someone I used to love,
someone who I loved so much, I could mimick her motions
tho I love a girl with a fat *** & laps,
nevertheless I her tight,
our interractions weren't smooth, I think that is where we lost the attraction,
she was one a kind, the type that will make you fall in love & forget the laws,
she was stunned with beauty, everyone loved her,
her voice was like a melody, a theme song,
the type you would find in Romeo & Juliet,
tho I do regret we are apart now, cause every moment with her felt like bliss,
sometimes I reminisce, upon my kness,
she made me look like a phyco,
when we gathered around the circle,
I have never loved another the way I loved her,
she was my moon, my Sun, my rainbow,
but I have learnt one thing, greater things ahead,
I wish you well,
to the lady I saw in my dream, I know you are closer than I think,
I will keep penning till I find you.
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 6:49 AM UTC
Big
Red
Empty
But not for long
Socks Rapidly shot in
Just like a basketball at the buzzer
Boxers next
Shoved and forgotten
Undershirts crisp and white
Blanket the bottom like snow
Colorful shirts
Folded and at attention
Mimick a soldier at ready
Are deployed in
The warzone
Long pants
Almost forgotten
But, not quite
Athletic shorts
Scrunched up
Ready to jump at a moments notice
Swim shorts are strewn over
As a makeshift barricade between
Regular and
Fancy
Comfortable
Collared shirts
Zip
Unzip
Another pocket
IN go phone chargers!
IN goes computer charger!
IN goes deck of cards!
As fast as the eye can see
Zip
Clip on
The black bag of magic
Toothbrushes
Toothpaste
Dental floss
Retainer case
Last but not least
The most holy of holies
Deodorant is
Gingerly, gently slid into place
All Effluvia of
The Travelers Trade
Zip closed
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 12:29 PM UTC
There was a man who had been abandoned at an early age and left to be cared by a monk at a monastery.
In his early years of adult hood he was so depressed he decided he would climb a mountainous rock and from it, he would jump.
He would die, and the pain would be over.
As he was eyeing his rock and seeing there was no way, he sat defeated.
And then his eyes caught glance of a monkey, effortlessly climbing the rock, all the way up. And all the way back down.
He knew he could mimick that climbing style and make his way to the top as well.
Slowly he climbed, tracing every movement the monkey had made, perfect.
AS he reached the top, he cried from the pain of the physical.. and the emotional..
At that moment, that was a roar
A huge roar of cheering.
From below the people were cheering and saying "He is a world class rock climber!"
They thought he had decided to climb it for sport, his skill seemed to display.
Confused with emotion, pain and elation, he bowed and safely returned to the ground.
Where after his first climb on that precipitous rock, he decided to persue rock climbing from then on..
Jul 19, 2021
Jul 19, 2021 at 5:13 PM UTC
sincere
infidelity
such a trick
on sincerity
it is easy
to mimick
but not
so when it ******
the marks it leaves
are sticks
tattoos of a fix
to remind you
that yellow
subsides for shallow
red
to tell you
off when said
and blue
to constantly hue
any chances of you
doing it again.
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
Mary, Oh Mary!
I wish you would have seen it Mary!
They were floating at such slow pace,
As if they were oozing from one another
And then slowly seeping back together,
Telling complete stories without words,
Never stopping,
Disappearing and reappearing out of the Blue.
Humans were once peaceful like these clouds, Mary,
Although only for a while.
They still try to mimick one another,
To complete eachother,
But now there's all this sin.
It feeds off us,
Stops us from respecting and sharing.
It enjoys the chaos so effortlessly created by the easiness of indifference.
Help me make it stop, Mary.
I want to care again.
And maybe, just maybe,
We'll open the others' eyes, too,
Before we lose all hope.
Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 3:04 PM UTC
A every stumble, thoughts of you catch me every time
But at each trip, they poison my daydreams with long gone memories.
Hauntingly, they mimick my train of thought
I apologize every time
Those thoughts are not my own, my love
I am vulnerable against their every attack
Punishment for my choice not to join,
And not to fight
The ability to love, they lack
And their bitterness enhances in the presence of my love for you
So, my love, do not believe their jealous manipulation
Which takes more form each time I call to you
I swore to you my love
I gave myself to you
Look within me, the me, that I gave to you
Don't watch the movements of my mind, as it was never truly mine
Turn away from their evil illustrations
Exhibited to invoke doubt and suspicion
Look into your heart, my love,
Feel the miracle we created together
They did the same to me my love
Attacking all senses with visions of you and disguised mistresses
In the end it was all in vain
As my heart stayed true, and steered me back
So, my beloved, look into the truth you feel inside your heart
Within is our true love, shining still
And never look to the glowing darkness before your eyes
Projected on all you see, and surrounding you in your slumber
Remember the electricity we made the first time you took my hand in yours
That hand, that sensation, is me
Don't be fooled as they warm your hand in a firm grip
And say that grasp is mine
You know my touch, you know my love
Don't look for demonstrations of me
But feel for what you know
Remember, my true love
Love is blind.
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 6:38 PM UTC
********* the frayed edges of this
worn down heart
from hope
and yet fed by the taste
of you
Honey dew tangerines
take shape of leaves
falling
from the sky the way
you took my hand
and took a dive
with me
I'd stay under and wait for you
like the pine trees waiting for
the others
to wake
after winter
I'd hold my breath for you and count to 365
3 times- unless there was a leap year
but I'd still count that day
It'd be the one where I saw you
The one where you held my hand
and watched time travel faster than
my anxious heart waiting for your
return so I could
nestle you in my straw sheets
Stiff, from not enough love
sweet, because no man has
been here,
except for you when my
eyelids fall victim to the weights
of emptiness
that feign them of your presence
Fall victim to my mind's imagination
protruding from my scalp
my iceberg
and carved thicker than any
of the mastered tattoos
that stain your bones
Carved like you are, all crisp
and folded neatly into squares
where you're slipped under my
left breast
buried here in the nook
of my rib cage
and mimick the parakeet
of my heart
calling to the only bird who sings my song
Calling to all lovers oceans apart but
woven so intimately inside
one another, a basket
of every item you could ever need-
Empty
but built through
frayed edges of worn down hearts
that inhale each catty-cornered breath
to survive
Singed ends
proof that your match
has lit my birch for it's last time
Proof that this is frozen like the permafrost
embedded within my rib
Proof that you'll stay with me through the thicket
of ice and
fury and
frost
before slipping away and leaving me with
the lilies of Spring
risen from the warm rain
you'll toss here from
the salt stained sea
renewed and refreshed as our hearts
choke and
gasp
and shriek
but
our bodies calm
as they perform their miracles
and heal
and mend
all of the sutures
that love has stung
us with
I'll heal from the frostbite you poisoned me with
but not without the deepest of scars
from your high velocity crime
on my soul and the ink bleeding
through my skin
But, she'll keep quiet
for you and
she'll wear her battle scars over
her left breast and wear
them with dignity
Have you loved like this?
Tell me, have you taken a dive
and held your breath?
Have you run down your heart
until all that
is left is
frayed edges of this worn down heart-
a parakeet chained to the cage
of my ribs
singing a song waiting to be sung
singing
to a lost Lover
of the lilies of Spring.
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 5:54 PM UTC
One sunny aftr’noon I chose
To stroll upon the sound
When suddenly I glimpsed ahead
And saw, me, on the ground
This vaguest doppelganger mimick’d
Ev’ry move I made
It spun upon the sand and whirl’d
As I turn’d away
Than standing still, I crook’d my head
And look’d behind in shock
I saw my mimic laying there
As wrought and real as rock
But as the sun began to sink
And moon commenc’d to rise
My companion stretch’d as on
A rack, before my very eyes
I slep’t upon the beach that night
Awaiting its return
And awoke to feel the sand against
My face begin to burn
Still half asleep, I stumbled to
The bay to wash my eyes
And while splashing water on my head
I view’d to my surprise
My shadow spread across the sand
And glinting smoothen’d stone
Now in days of solitude
I know I’m not alone
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 6:19 PM UTC
The Darkness, can be anything.
You can be scared, and see it as
A Monster,
Who can hear your heartbeat,
Who can mimick your eyes' expectations,
Who can amplify every tick of the clock,
Who can make pipes scream and boards wail,
Who can make a breeze into a breathe.
Or you can be calm, and see it
As a friend, who will cover you
In it, like a blanket or a sweater.
A rippling pool of black, slightly
Moving you like a wave
Isolation, from everything you
Can't handle, you give it to the darkness,
And it becomes a foundation.
Or you could be like me and turn on
The lights.
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 1:59 AM UTC
your filthy
you reek of individuality
how dare you be such a mess
don't worry society can fix
after all they fixed all the other kids
with there blank stares
they confom
because now they don't care
now run along to the washing machine
and clean yourself up
but i don't want to go in the machine
its an hour
of turning and turning
over agian
till your rid of all stench
years later
i miss your mess
i miss the stench
and now i'm alone
once more
now your a shiny mirror
you only mimick
you conform
conformity is the biggest diseases we face. it can **** an individual and only leave a husk
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 12:44 PM UTC
Three things needed to be what we are
Three gimicks making the wordmonger
First, the thirst to mimick and bind everything that comes before eyes, in words
Words must come before fists
Second is the sharp silence,
Though we trade blows in words
Silence is the actual lethal thing in our arsenal
Nothing cuts deeper than nothing
We know what expects on the other side
Nothing cuts deeper than the ghost knife
Third is that one thing
That one being
One place to belong to
One blank in the puzzle
One and only
Nothing comes after nothing comes before
One thing wordlocks can't hold onto
That one thing that keeps the insanity in check
Now its slipping away
And fires are back, eating at our heels
We can only watch from behind a glass wall
Thin as air but refuse to move
Explore some more, one more heal
Something to seal these thoughts
Before we explode
...please
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 11:05 PM UTC
it's funny how the sky mimicks
some souls
the broken ones, the lonely
the fearful and the cold,
the grey clouds drift by
as the clock ticks, they fill the sky
go wherever the breeze blows
they pour out their everything
a shower here, some lightning there,
left dreadfully empty
they slowly start to disappear
gone, not remembered, just gone
most of the lives below are thankful,
a few are sad, but soon move on.
Its funny how the clouds mimick my soul.
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 8:34 AM UTC
when mama left california--
when mama's leave with
their children, does a part
of him go with us,
I've spent a lot of time
looking for Leonard in
the kindred spirits of
other men,
men with bodies like the
damp forest, mulch and
peat moss,
what is a father and what is
a man, do they yell, do they
scream, should he have when
she left, but
I was born a ******* left a *******
asking for someone to convince me
that girls like me can be whole--that
they don't need any help because i've
never had it anyway.
when mama left california, she said so.
don't need no help, she whispered.
don't need no help, I mimick.
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 11:32 AM UTC
Life is static.
The drone of the fan blades ******* in hot air on a muggy summer night,
The lull of the cicadas in the warm glow of the evening,
The rustling dance the leaves do to mimick the wind.
My head is tired but my mind's wide awake,
I can see so much beauty in the world where beauty is not often seen.
I evaluate the images like static getting ****** into a null void of black and white and specs of color all buzzing around and intertwining into a greater art.
I take everything in like static.
I lay in bed with my eyes wandering my room and staring back into my own soul.
Static.
All I see is static
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 10:50 AM UTC
I breath in your scent every morning when I wake
So I'll isolate myself in this room so what I have left of you doesn't escape
Like the clothing you carried out in bags
Til death do us part
The words your once muttered in a dream I once had
I'll put a picture of you on the roof of my bunk
Mimick you with a pillow
Cove it in love
I'd video tape killing myself for a moment for your time
Or maybe even three
Because I'll only give up when my lungs give out
And my heart gives in
Because you don't leave as easy as you walked out.
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 4:20 PM UTC
what is it about
dreams that
we want to
stay on it
even when there
are nightmares?
is it because it
does not mimick
one word
from reality?
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 8:49 PM UTC
Today was my first good day.
I took some pills
to numb the pain away.
They helped me focus too.
I focused on my work so much in fact
that I didn't stop to think of you.
Then at twelve
I took a break to get high,
I wanted to feel light.
I didn't zone out
or get tired
because the pills kept my mind rolling.
I didn't think of death.
I didn't think of pain.
I didn't even contemplate how I ruined us.
I thought of beautiful people,
analyzed the flaws of capitalism,
even reopened an old book.
For the first time since you left,
I didn't feel the urge to run away.
I again longed to be my best self.
I enjoyed the company of others.
I didn't crave being alone.
I felt today,
for the first time since you broke me,
the corners of my mouth
curve up to form a toothy smile.
And today I heard myself laugh again.
I thought,
that maybe today,
I broke out of the oblivion of depression
that you single handedly locked me in.
But then I was reminded,
that these magic pills of mine
mimick happiness.
I realized then,
that the only way
to escape manmade oblivion,
is to stitch yourself into the ever present
fabric of death.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 12:10 AM UTC
When I was young, my mother sung
The song of singing things.
She sang of seas,
A salty breeze,
And underwater kings.
Up and down the music scale
Her vocal chords would call
On couples' dance
And wedding bands.
Oh merry would be all!
I recollect her melodies.
Recall them time to time.
For every day,
When I would play,
I'd mimick all her rhymes.
But my voice was not, made for ballot.
I couldn't keep a beat.
I tried and yet,
I'd always forget,
How her songs became complete.
So I quit my act, and faced the fact
I had not my mother's art.
And my mother said,
"It's in your head
Now put it in your heart."
I tried my best, to feel the rest.
All I did was squall.
But can you sing the song
of singing things
if you've never sung at all?
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 10:52 PM UTC
some people are just old puzzle pieces
that no longer fit in these jigsaw puzzles — my palms.
i run high on its comfort —
i am no longer the dead air between my riddled words —
i am the rust growing in the tips of my steel bed —
such lackadaisical sight,
it is nothing like
cigarettes ashes falling on azalea flowers —
it's of no cinematic appeal.
i am a storm in a state of catharsis;
feel the last bits of softness break away from my skin.
i have outgrown my body
and its desperate need
to mimick the prettiest poems.
i still bleed, and it looks nowhere like sunsets;
i don't have to look like one —
feel like one.
die like one.
i am all these things. i am everything
but the puzzle of who i was —
like a mess of relics, blurring altogether
into one hazy memory.
these fragile bones come together
into something whole
something breathing.
something human.
and i am no longer a puzzle
that breaks at the feel of careless hands.
i run high on this comfort.
i run high on this clarity.
Jun 16, 2021
Jun 16, 2021 at 3:18 AM UTC
A bad liar could speak truth
If he could at first speak dreams
and Wishes become wants
and wants tie in the seams.
I wish I wanted to be clean
I wish I wanted the best for me
and one day I will find what it means
to be purity
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 5:15 PM UTC