"misalignment" poems
There is change that is certain.
The earth slowly shifting,
The sky slowly shifting.
Seven billion universes
Rotating around each of us,
Each one of us an axis.
The recurring misalignment,
Collisions, and revisions of
Our orbiting bodies
Shape the illusion of stability
Hanging from our celestial ceiling.
I did not expect to come home
To an empty house,
My family's effects removed
Like the leftovers of an evicted tenant.
I am a stranger here,
In this room where I became a woman.
This room that exalted and imprisoned me
No longer offers solace.
Litter, that upon closer inspection
Reveals a mosaic of my childhood
Is spinning.
The pieces of my past
Are spinning
Out and away,
Gravitating towards a larger body.
The car I drove to a stranger's house
To get ****** instead of going
To dinner with my family
Now belongs to another.
The dresser that kept my underwear
In the top drawer
For twenty years
Discarded and lain in the gutter.
The walls which I painted
The most neon shade of green
In an act of adolescent rebellion
Are now covered over
In rental home white
To attract the widest audience
Of potential tenants.
The floor is slipping out from beneath me,
The ceiling lifting and floating away.
New additions to my orbital debris.
This place,
Disassembled.
Each part
Far more significant than the whole.
This house
Will never again be a home.
If I had stayed,
Would the gravity of my presence
Have been enough to keep it together?
Were any of these parts
Part of my universe in the first place?
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 7:45 PM UTC
It begins with a very few words, but an array of emotions.
Its unspoken feelings,
Its the misalignment of words,
My head is underwater but I somehow enjoy the feeling of suffocation,
Submerged in my own thoughts,
I am slowly drowning,
Not a slight quiver with the sound of rippling waters,
I don't hear a sound above,
Above,.. where its all rustles and rambles of reality,
I feel safe underwater,
Often, I hear the whispers of doubt in my ear,
My head and heart has been detached for so long,
I'd forgotten the weight that it carried,
I feel lighter underwater,
Let me have a few moments more,
I don't mind the taste of salt in my mouth than to hear the lies you tell to comfort me,
I think this life finally belongs to me,
As i watch the sky above me, and feel the water beneath me,
I am one step closer to healing,
I have suffered a hundred seconds trying to appreciate a moment.
But for now,
After a very long time, I finally feel happy.
Truly happy.
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 3:16 AM UTC
something startled the
fault line yesterday
a misalignment in the stars
she tried to find the volume in
your expression
but you are far too quiet
& its horrifying
tingling underneath her fingernails
intuition like haunting
& she still can't figure out
where you are
speak
speak here
I drift like the
tide
constantly
in and out of
awareness
out of life
out of mobility
you rise up over
the shore
a sunlit statue
at your charismatic helm
or so I thought
but you sailed right past
*your face was so empty
I could not reach
you*
& you never looked
never saw me watching you
its as if you already knew
you were on a
sinking ship
Apr 15, 2012
Apr 15, 2012 at 4:00 PM UTC
Sometimes the skies aren't bright,
And things seem not alright,
The misalignment of the stars,
And success held behind bars;
Then the sun shines again,
And we're not reminded of our pain,
Glory to the heavens!
For the renewal of the seasons!
Dec 5, 2023
Dec 5, 2023 at 5:27 AM UTC
I love so many things about you
and it opens up my world
to seeing things from your perspective
and others too
the way you smile when reading your favourite book
the creases around your eyes
and the slight misalignment of your teeth
radiate your happiness
this happiness in someone is seldom
and it shows just how
the little things can affect someone's vivacity
so greatly
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 7:36 PM UTC
especially the mornings,
i need not tell you really,
you must know.
ok if there is no rush to go,
easy, cosy up and write.
i think they change the clocks
soon, throwing all into
misalignment, it is not
supposed to, yet remains
a mystery to me. we talk
about the war and daylight saving.
walking to school in the mist,
uniform,, and there
is another story.
it is darker here this morning.
sbm.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 1:08 AM UTC
our love story was hardly one worth telling let alone one for the screens,
peoples eyes ticking over with boredom as we explain that we were not
brought together by a miraculous act of fate, just lazily made our way into each other’s lives. yet we loved like the actors and actresses in the best selling romance films and we gave everything but i suppose regardless of a sinking ship or fatal car crash or simple misalignment of the stars we just weren’t mean to be.
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 4:26 AM UTC
to poison the mind;
with no actual poison
but the mere thought of.
-
to poison the heart;
to plant seeds that may harvest if the air is clear enough
for 1 minute space in time,
to break the chain of misalignment
where the skies are dark
without elements to fill a certain form.
-
faith wavers,
consistency is misplaced,
integrity & discipline
are lost,
still finding way beneath disgrace
through generations
of conveniently consuming creation.
Aug 2, 2021
Aug 2, 2021 at 10:13 PM UTC
though thine wife gladly
(and long time ago)
verily swept passed
her final child bearing year
this house broken husband
genuinely hankers to father
(yes sire re:to set sea men
"NOT FAKE," nor NONGMO
free and reduced)
and longingly participate
in parenthood again
donning baby proof couture wear
analogous (as aye imagine dragons
fire breathing worth tolerating),
those who fervently veer
yearning to undergo
*** reassignment surgery (SRS)
with unintentional surgeon's delicate tear
aye thru thoroughly anesthetized flesh,
(especially genitals under going
transformational substantial removal
via said - bravely bite ting the bullet -
sharp pinching shear)
contemplating, formulating, issuing
personal specifications to cutting crew
validating, testifying recapping re: questing
genitals do not reappear
since significant surgery purport, some hetero
****** person might **** sitter queer
yet no doubt a homosexual
and/or lesbian would ap pear
to understand completely if *****
didst unwittingly accidentally overhear
confidential conversation,
yet warmly reassured the speaker,
they did not intend to get near
enough to glean enough information
that said transexual could reduce wardrobe
with women and/or menswear
and this once distraught,
distressed, and distributed
without willingness unfairly
fated to live stemmed,
undoubtedly wrought from ****** misalignment,
would post surgery
hover off the ground and modestly
swagger off into the sunset
(this scenario projection strictly of mine)
anyway ***** could map out in one direction
destiny describing,
an upswinging trajectory linear
once future freed where gender now nsync
with physical gonadal accouterment
unconcerned if urge arises
to swivel derriere with flare.
-------------------------------------
matthew scott
highland manor apartments
schwenksville, pennsylvania
19473
USA
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 8:32 PM UTC
I always find myself getting caught in the misalignment of your teeth, tripping over the angles of your smile and drowning in the sound of your voice telling me stories about the place you grew up. The sound of your voice carries the same comforting familiarity that a child feels when they notice that the clouds never cease to leave their side on a long car ride. What you don't see is that I am merely a cloud of stardust floating like the smoke of an exhaled cigarette and you are a whole universe that I could get irrevocably lost in. Except I hope I'm not like nicotine to you, because love isn't about addiction or obsession it's about comfort and just like how I never forget to lock my door at night because I feel safer with a tiny piece of metal separating the outside from me, I feel so safe in your arms even though they're merely just pieces of flesh.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
Minutes pass day by day but the same thing remains. Inner demons tearing the seams of the soul wailing for a chance to be heard. Forced smiles, false laughs, masks painted by the banshees themselves unrecognizable to the viewers eye. The appearance from the eyes looks like summer but feels like the frost from the winter. The words sound of clarity from the rains of spring but represent a dryness from fall. Misalignment, dis-alignment, nothing of the sort to be let known for the fear of disappointment. Not for yourself but for others. Not to be seen for the unspoken truth of not being good enough for the world that took you under its wing against your will. Degraded, suppressed, all worth striped of meaning for those exact reasons that you hide your face in crowds so no one can see the Unbearing truth of reality. It gets worse and worse each day you hear the lie from his lips which only ends in more places to apply your makeup. The shame beats down on you like a blistering flame after its wrath has been contained for too long that you believe the spitting so called "truth" being fed to you on a shinning silver platter. How long do you have til those demons unravel the unseen beauty that nests somewhere unknown? I'm counting down each minute that passes during each day to the final place where your mask can be shed and your worth can be defined.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 6:20 PM UTC
I believe that evil comes about when man is hurt
A type of hurt that burrows far beneath the skin
And straight into the heart.
As anyone knows, when a man is cast out
He will do anything to prove himself to those who hate him
Perhaps that is where the greatest of evil men came from
At what point was such a deep hurt cast upon them
That broke them to a point of proving themselves again
From there, that anger would bubble into vengeance
Vengeance to violence, violence to the ends of all those he wished to prove himself to from the beginning.
An evil man is a broken man
Broken from the moment he accepted he would never be held
Accepted he would rather be feared than loved
Because from that same fear, that is where he had found his strength
For that is all he ever knows
Driven on by the coals of his own self deceit
This once broken man stitches the parts of himself together again
And from the ruins of his own soul he pours his cruelty and madness
Madness to force the world to accept him as he creates his own role
Uncaring, he grows numb toward the death
The destruction he causes becomes his creations
Because those who broke him never let him believe
That his hands could ever conjure something great
So he brings his wrath upon them instead
And dies a little more inside every day
Possibly without knowing it any longer
That he became the very thing he hated most
And like any evil man
His actions must be accounted for
Because though he had been broken and battered to the floor
It was he who let himself sink below and let anger fester
Feeding the demons that nipped at his ankles
Perhaps he is as guilty as the doubters of his gifts
Perhaps the world creates these men for a reason
To show the people just how dark it can truly be
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
Supposed to be working on school 8-2.
I ended up on my phone scrolling through
photos of me and you
of the things we used to do.
So instead of working on my assignment.
I'm thinking about how our bond went
our entwinement
turned to misalignment.
With my classes needing sketches drawn
and memories brought upon
I'm procrastinating on
the classes that make me yawn.
Nov 19, 2024
Nov 19, 2024 at 11:45 AM UTC