"miscommunication" poems
Eighteen misses and three survivors
Two broken marriages with one spiteful lost love
Two warring sisters and too many brothers
Numbers don’t always make the lives of another
Crocheted angels and heartfelt hugs
Gone are the days of each of those
Responsible, avoidant, and spoiled
Resentment, confusion, and miscommunication
Ghosts of the past
Harried, busy, and distant
Buy back the time
Patience, hope, and acceptance
Crowding the cast
Three lives play out creating six more
One life still here caught in time
One life locked in with ghosts of the past
cc062611
Jun 26, 2011
Jun 26, 2011 at 2:11 PM UTC
Friendships that go the distance
Make all the difference
Through lines of continuity
Lasting a lifetime.
Acquaintances come and go
They don't really know
Same team
Same office
Same school
All friendly and warm
But when you part ways
You'll never see them again.
Or there is the reminder
everyone is a hero in their own melodrama,
hurt feelings
falling outs
blocked
miscommunication
blame
Let's let'em pass
Friendships that go the distance
Seen you throughout, inside out
ugly and beautiful
Know all the idiosyncrasies
Know what to give for your birthday
Know what your all about
Willing to work it out
Friendships which go the distance
Are friends with benefits
Unconditional accepance.
Acceptance connecting
Both ways.
We can surely say,
It makes it all worthwhile
When you have friendships going the distance.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 10:36 PM UTC
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
Go **** yourself.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
I don't follow.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
You can't generalize like that.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
All conflict in the world cannot be attributed to a single root.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
That requires the assumption that, basically, all human values are the same.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
That is very naive of you.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
That is because communication and language are the only means of expression and different words acquire very different meanings not only from culture to culture but even profession to profession.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
That's why the government is investing in that new fibre internet.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
Well of course, all human values are essentially the same.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
It's actually a lack of technological progression that restricts us from contacting aliens.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
Religious conflict is far more complicated than that.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
Go to Hell.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
Yes
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
No
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
What do you mean?
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 11:50 AM UTC
Miscommunication
serendipity, anticipation,
blurred reality -
lost in the dialect
of a dream,
in pursuit
of Love
find callous irony;
subversion of desire
what's it all about?
to know and be known.
Mere seconds
of scrutiny
inferior,
I am shown.
Her appraisal
eviscerating
my warm flesh,
her tilted criteria
supplanting the interior,
voluble with
saccharine neologisms
and preferences
for the exterior.
(not mine)
Ironic was my
attraction to
her brain.
Lines, features
and symmetry,
image - the commodity,
aesthetics, the
currency
in this transaction,
cursory liaison,
incendiary,
collapse of the
insurgent ego -
there was no
us in the
the affair of
nothingness.
Bruised in
abasement,
I'm not the one -
I thought I was.
Hyperbole -
the center
of delusion,
a curious
diversion -
avoid my life.
The allure of
the illusion,
transference,
the ordinary to
the romantic,
the perfect other.
Searching, the
absorbing project -
aquiring wholeness,
did she reject me?
I rejected me.
The escape into
fraudulent
sadness,
to mourn,
is to displace,
the disowned heart
by self is tragic.
Should
I not mourn for
the one I'm
deferring?
Inside of me
It's safe,
to lament
the loss of
identity -
tension is agony
without resolve
sequestered,
in my pain,
self-imposed
familiar terrain,
upon retrieval,
awaking in
renewal,
mystery and destiny
providentially,
I am free.
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 8:08 PM UTC
I want to be a good person
for you.
I want you to look at me
how I look at you
without feeling the pain.
When we finish a conversation
I want you to smile at me
and say
“We must do this again sometime”
And I want to do it again.
I want to leave and show up again
and hug you every time.
I want to look into your eyes
and not blink.
I think I love you.
True, it is possible you are
like all the rest, and that I will
forget you and move on.
It is possible, that I am just
going through the motion of loving you.
I don’t think so though.
I think you are special.
I think that when you smile,
G-d remembers why He loves the human race.
You are the most beautiful girl
I have ever seen,
You always will be.
If only this love was
without pain.
If only you could stay,
or maybe I could go with you.
I think we would be good together.
I think you make me
truly happy, and that I
can cheer you up too.
I want to spend a day
with you.
And talk.
About anything. Everything.
You are beautiful inside and out.
It kills me when you walk by.
I know you don’t look at me
like that. It’s okay though.
It’s just, well, I think
if you thought about it
you could see us together too.
You inspire me,
but you are unavailable to me,
So that inspiration only goes so far.
And not far enough.
I love you.
It hurts me.
I even met your family
and I think they’re great.
Why are you leaving?
I can’t believe this.
My parents like you too.
I know they would.
How can’t they. You’re perfect.
I’m trying to imagine
meeting someone I’d
be with, but I can’t.
Because of you.
Because of your kindness.
Your long lovely hair.
Your unimaginable smile.
Your wit and mind.
Your laugh and your humor.
It’s all beautiful.
Everything about you makes
me hurt when I don’t
tell you “I love you”.
But I know my place.
And that’s weird.
It’s not the time or place,
or maybe even the person,
but our friendship is good
and I wouldn’t trade it for
the world. Perhaps I
will tell you some day.
Perhaps.
You are so wondrous.
I apologize that my vocabulary
is small, and I can not
do justice to you.
Perhaps I will write a song,
maybe I can tell you like that.
But words come too fast
and have too much possibility
for miscommunication and error.
I love you.
So much.
I’m out of place.
That’s why I won’t say it.
So I’ll keep it on this paper.
If only things were different.
I swear it bugs the hell out of me
that things can’t be different.
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 11:59 AM UTC
[PART ONE]
xeroxed, RT'd and plagiarized
so many times on so many blogs
tween blogs to republican blogs
to blogs in Russia and
blogs no one ever scrolls though...
original content is prey
but I have a warning for they:
overrated, over-shared
content aggregators beware
the lines you swap can
rot and ware
the World Wide Web
does not care.
[PART TWO]
original content
original contests
original continent
original controversy
original coordination between strangers
original calvary riding their connection into the battlefield of internet memes; creating nothing and sharing everything
[COMMENTARY]
original nothing, nowhere, nobody except facebook "Funny Vidoes!" & "Cool Quotes!". 'Like' pages whose sole originality lies within their own existence but nothing they share. They steal from the rest of the web and re-post what they find for out-of-the-loop troglodytes; often done so in inferior context and with no perspective. The 'refried beans' phenomenon, I call it. I find it fitting because 'refried beans' are a double misnomer. The name comes from 'frijoles refritos' - which means 'well-fried' not 'refried'. They are also never traditionally fried more than once. Yet the name sticks, it gets repeated, it gets re-shared and now that's what they are: refried beans. This phenomenon is why I believe art and all original content eventually become so over-shared and overrated that it's no longer interesting but irritating. These three parts of the poem "Original Content" are separated in abstract authorial presentation. The author has clearly expressed his dislike for the disjunct un-imagination of the internet and presents it as such.
[PART THREE]
original authors losing control of their audiences who believe they are the creators and the artist's art is somewhat shareable
original miscommunication between web 1.0 and web 2.0 reality
original alphabet they use to type on their keyboards
original grammar they learned in school
original money their gov't printed
original content they re-post
original refried beans
original content
orginal contet
ogrinal cotent
ognal ctt
oc
.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC
Licking lips and tasting purple fingertips,
we paused to sensually share from each.
You,with your mulberries of juicy richness,
and I with naive blueberries without guile.
May 23, 2012
May 23, 2012 at 2:29 AM UTC
i am up too late w/o reason
a date in mind, i'll find the season...
to jump and sit back, relax.
as the waves of the day relapse,
the winds behind the drive,
to see a smile in innocence,
to repeat later in a over done line
of repetition, recognition, rephrase,
words recycled, garbled, rambled,
all in miscommunication
crying to help, choking down a shot of hope
but this is a end of a rope
severely torn and frayed
at the beginning or at the end
i cannot remember if a day or night
there is always more than enough light.
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 3:38 AM UTC
There will always be strangers
They just walk into your life
You don't know for better or worse
Through the days you smile or cry
There will be many types of relationship
Aquintances, Friends or even life partners
There are times when you face hardships
Where there are certain miscommunication
Which would certainly rise the tension
And would lead to certain decisions
Sometimes your heart will surely tore
Watching people go right out the door
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 12:23 PM UTC
Attempts to read between the lines
Can be painful and it’s true
That one must first ensure
What they interpret
Is what is meant by you
The next time you get your feelings hurt
By what you thought you read
Make sure you read the lines themselves
And understand what is said
So many misunderstandings
And arguments that ensue
Are caused by not understanding
What is said to you
Listen closely truth is silent
Let the silence speak to you
But remember to listen carefully
To what is being said too
Apr 5, 2010
Apr 5, 2010 at 12:31 PM UTC
I’ve never found charm in speaking
words that you don’t mean
or falling over sentences
struggling with broken speech
the same way that I have never found home
in the body I call mine
that internal war I fight
between my heart and between my mind.
The world will never understand
why I tremble in daily conversation
I cause confusion in my thoughts
skipping over words in trepidation
But miscommunication then turns to judgement
without a second glance
and your lack of hesitation destroys me
tracing it’s steps into my one woman war
Well isn’t that just like your fears,
setting you up for failure?
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC
They meet once again,
One teary, one leery, both weary,
Daughter, mother, cut from the same cloth.
They meet once again,
Sense one another's desire to be,
Forgiven, understood, loved.
They meet once again,
To talk, to listen, to avoid,
Mistaken, misunderstood, miscommunication.
They meet once again,
Shuttered down, boarded up, fear within resides,
Mother, daughter, cut from the same cloth.
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 3:27 PM UTC
[PART ONE]
xeroxed, RT'd and plagiarized
so many times on so many blogs
tween blogs to republican blogs
to blogs in Russia and
blogs no one ever scrolls though...
original content is prey
but I have a warning for they:
overrated, over-shared
content aggregators beware
the lines you swap can
rot and ware
the World Wide Web
does not care.
[PART TWO]
original content
original contests
original continent
original controversy
original coordination between strangers
original calvary riding their connection into the battlefield of internet memes; creating nothing and sharing everything
[COMMENTARY]
original nothing, nowhere, nobody except facebook "Funny Vidoes!" & "Cool Quotes!". 'Like' pages whose sole originality lies within their own existence but nothing they share. They steal from the rest of the web and re-post what they find for out-of-the-loop troglodytes; often done so in inferior context and with no perspective. The 'refried beans' phenomenon, I call it. I find it fitting because 'refried beans' are a double misnomer. The name comes from 'frijoles refritos' - which means 'well-fried' not 'refried'. They are also never traditionally fried more than once. Yet the name sticks, it gets repeated, it gets re-shared and now that's what they are: refried beans. This phenomenon is why I believe art and all original content eventually become so over-shared and overrated that it's no longer interesting but irritating. These three parts of the poem "Original Content" are separated in abstract authorial presentation. The author has clearly expressed his dislike for the disjunct un-imagination of the internet and presents it as such.
[PART THREE]
original authors losing control of their audiences who believe they are the creators and the artist's art is somewhat shareable
original miscommunication between web 1.0 and web 2.0 reality
original alphabet they use to type on their keyboards
original grammar they learned in school
original money their gov't printed
original content they re-post
original refried beans
original content
orginal contet
ogrinal cotent
ognal ctt
oc
.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 12:42 PM UTC
For as long as I can remember
My daddy doesn't cry.
Ridiculous, I know,
But I never saw a tear leave his eyes.
When his son got sent away,
My daddy didn't cry.
When he lost his job
Again and Again and Again
My daddy didn't cry.
When his brother died
My daddy didn't cry.
When we found out my siblings had autism
My daddy didn't cry.
When his sister in law died,
My daddy didn't cry.
When his mom died 26 hours later,
My daddy didn't cry.
But when my father realized that he was slowing losing me
When I had failed to tell him how much I loved him
He sat in the car
Tears shining in his eyes
And he begged me
He begged me to give him a second chance.
And as a single tear streamed down his face
I couldn't help but tear up myself
At the thought of all the miscommunication
All the fights and all the misunderstandings
For the first time in forever
I actually felt loved by father,
That first time
I saw my daddy cry.
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 9:19 AM UTC
Now blinded by the world that let us see
there is confusion in our bodies as we breathe
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 9:21 PM UTC
The other day
When I said that your face reminds me of a rhinoceros
I wasn't saying that you look like a bulky box
Or that your skin looks grey
I was really trying to say that
You make me feel like there are a hundred
5 ton mammals stampeding across my heart
And sometimes when I look at you
I can't even breathe
Because all the weight of wanting this
Crushes my lungs til my chest burns like an African desert
Consequently most rhinos are found in Africa
And I researched all of this in the hopes that
Maybe you would understand
You see the thing is I am not good with emotions
And I know as much about love as I know about quantum physics
And I don't even know what quantum physics is about
Or what it means for that matter
I've been trying to read all the romance novels that I could find
I've been trying to watch all the rom-coms I can torrent
Hell I even watched Valentine's Day thrice
But I still don't know what to do when I'm with you
I am unsure and clumsy and petrified
So much so that I can't even work up the courage
To hold your hand
I'm trying, I really am
It's just so **** difficult
When falling in love feels more like
Jumping out of a helicopter
A hundred thousand feet up
Without a parachute on
One day I will be able
To directly say what I really mean
Without metaphors involving animals
That only I understand
But for now let me just say
Your face reminds me of a rhinoceros
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 7:02 AM UTC
Each day when I think of the way you hurt me
when my heart wrenches in pain.
I think of what I did to deserve this
When u know that there was no other way.
I don’t know why u can hold my heart ransom
Crush it with unkind gesture of yours
When I loved you so truly and madly and
didn’t think even once of the loss
U see it is I who stand to loose from what you’ve done
Cause for me there can be no one
not after what you have done
The doors of my heart have closed forever
Never will these open again for anyone.
For you this was just an attempt to see if your charm worked
For me this was a soul shaker, the one that changed me forever.
I resisted every attempt of yours
For your eyes scorched me day and night
Still I bore down your charm
and stood my ground alright.
Our chemistry was in the air you see
We could never hide it from prying eyes
Any blind man could have told
they way we looked into each others eyes.
I fought and resisted you for long
And thought I was strong
Till that fateful day when
I decided I would have it my way
But fate would wish another way
For the day I decide to part
That was the very day I lost my heart.
Your fun and jokes and childish pranks
Your endless teasing had me in splits
You knew very well that
it was beginning to grow in you as well.
A strange feeling of falling head over heels.
We were one and we did not need those words
Until you started expecting me to cross my limits
Limits I had set long ago, and you knew
I would never never cross them for anyone.
What did you want me to say, say that I love you
I already did it a million times
Didn’t my eyes say it all.
You knew you felt it too.
But now, I don’t know what’s wrong with you.
I am done with the deciphering
I am done with your cold ways
I am done with your pushing me around
I am never going to stay that way
For all that could have been done is done and over
My Lord, my energy’s drained and u have run me over.
I wept and cried and wondered why I deserved this fate.
You see miscommunication is to blame that closed the gate
For I cannot reconcile the same heart that rent sweet words
were tossing me out cold and dry.
I could not let u go for you were the sweetest thing my eyes beheld,
and I did love u truly, but you’ll never understand.
Its over now..what a mess!
The only prayer that escapes my lips
May our paths never cross again!
For I cannot afford loose my heart again.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 4:29 AM UTC
Broken miscommunication,
building on our frustrations,
with the strangers that we live with.
Fabrics of our families fraying,
our history, we love erasing,
anything to break the natural bond.
We don't want to be alone,
but we don't want to share the world,
so instead we live in darkness.
I live for the people I meet,
my neighbors aren't strangers to me,
why close the blinds when you can let in the light?
The world we know lives in the dark,
hoping to avoid that benevolent spark,
that's why I'm here holding the torch.
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC
please excuse my miscommunication
I didn't need it growing up
all I needed was the consistent dedication
to escape from where I was
please look past my fragile heart
it grew in place of the stone
I don't care about my emotionless art
by to lose the few hits solid bone
reprieve the foundation I can never find
stability was never my forté
I seek instead for a solid state of mind
or at least that's what I claim
forgive me for my transgressions
they were not meant in vain
I don't live up well to expectations
I only thinly mask their blame
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 12:46 PM UTC
The cold distance between two hearts,
Once beating simultaneously, in unison -
A small disconnection,
A simple malfunction,
Unforeseen miscommunication amidst unvanquished certainty -
Muzzled, tightened grip,
Cloaking an angst shell of a body,
Harvesting repressed emotions,
Alluring a passive tongue -
Releasing an outpour of an outcry in an outburst,
Retribution -
Freedom released from with-in,
Healing of a contorted soul...
Commence.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 1:58 AM UTC
He sat, completely repentant
He had hurt her before, he knew
There was defeat in his shoulders
"I would like to pray about this," he said, searching for change in a greater aspect.
Beratement
Scolding
She needs a husband who's going to be around
Better around beating than away?
He had put that past behind him
She felt reason to bring it up
Over
And
Over
She needs a husband
He's there, but apparently,
Not enough
Miscommunication
Frustration
Defeat in his being
She keeps talking and talking
Saying the same things over and over
Beating him with the same verbal stick
He feels awful
He knows his wrongs
He lacks self forgiveness
He fears himself
He fears losing her due to his own actions
He desires to pray
He wants, and is seeking change
She's stuck
Stick in hand
Ready,
On the attack
Prayer
She's stuck in a
Loop
No forgiveness in the
Hardened heart
He's defeated,
Wanting so badly for change
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 6:42 PM UTC
This was never meant to hurt you.
It was a simple miscommunication,
a stumble of words.
"Words" can be so easily misspelled to say "swords,"
and swords can impale.
I suppose words can, too.
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 1:22 PM UTC
I am a teenage introvert:
My bed is unkempt and I long for forgiveness - mainly from myself and possibly my mirror
I worship the cynical and complain how much I hate school - even though I hate when I stay home
My fingers are etching maps in my head, while I form an excuse to skip, even though I never do
I look for acceptance, anywhere. No one uses words anymore and the rooms are silent.
Miscommunication starts fights so I never speak up. Late nights on Netflix - succeeding at nothing
I am a teenage stereotype:
I save for concerts and buy cd’s. I long to drive someday and having the prospects of college. Filled with wanderlust I cry myself to sleep. Dreaming of not waking up - but getting home sick at home.
I am confused.
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 12:59 AM UTC
When
I
told you
that I did
not want you, what I
meant to say was that I need you
Jan 2, 2011
Jan 2, 2011 at 2:04 PM UTC