"miscue" poems
The chatter makes me think, think
Think, think of the brink,
Of extinction,
Of my pain,
And our scars,
The world is pressing too far,
Hurting,
Discovering,
Totally uncovering,
The weaknesses of people who can't take care of themselves.
Those people who are crying out for help.
The kid hit by his momma,
The girl depressed from drama,
The kid starving in Africa,
The teen trafficked from Albania.
This world is cruel,
Totally uncool.
People think it's minuscule,
These real problems that people face,
Every god ****** ******* day.
White privilege is a real thing,
And sexism is an issue,
Homosexuality is not a miscue,
And the only person who can make change,
Is
You
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 12:47 PM UTC
Oh my love, don’t be a dove.
Don’t check on me on Facebook.
My posts and shouts, my wonder likes
Don’t check on me on Facebook
For on Facebook I lie
I do not share my deepest sighs
I don’t post them like my pies
for people to imply
On Facebook I don’t say how I think of you
like an unwanted miscue
I don’t say how I wish you’d be bolder
and forget why you’re colder
Alas, there’s no more to discuss
for you had made a pass
because you just checked on me on Facebook
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 11:02 PM UTC
fifteen hundred Starbucks shuttered
by a maintenance miscue.
How will I face this morning
without their bitter brew.
Their water filter system
was due for an overhaul.
Now this forced decaffeination
has me climbing up the walls.
Where's my choc o-mocha latte,
topped with whipped cream
cooled with skim?
Without those extra calories
I'll soon be down a chin.
I miss my blonde barrista, Jill.
and her great good morning smile.
Rakeesh at Dunkin Donuts'
lacks her figure and her style.
I'm reduced to getting coffee
from a roadside hot dog stand.
why he doesn't have free WI-fi
I'm at a loss to understand.
May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 7:11 AM UTC
In a world lined by lies, we look not to
hallow men but to; Crinkled white pages.
Engulfed by the smell of home and fluoresce.
Our heads swim with what can, could, and will be.
Those imaginary heroes become.
Us and we fight monsters made of concrete
text. And it ends every time we close the book.
But our hearts continue to beat with miscue
prose, to the tune of pink love-struck blushes.
Those fairy tales and happy endings bless
gifts to those scared of their reality.
When our hands touch paper spines we blossom
Our minds unfold and become meadowsweet;
Flowers of yellow and green on a brook.
Through little black lines we see life and death,
tame worlds of dragons with words with whispered words,
and grow beyond the boundaries of literature
inspiring us to wear our own armor.
The truth to the lie of fiction allows
it to become far more truer than truth.
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
when Noah told god,
He, was gonna save the world,
from his **** flood
(the sorry storybook, in fact, got it wrong),
god mystified, Noah well versified
how he was agonna do it,
the man with the plan
how to salve the world
two by two,
Noah replied, and that's not lied,
see below, see below,
two poems,
sorta side by side,
but not
read down, across, whichever
One Two
starts two, is multiplication,
one X two equals two
one boy one girl,
or girl whatever,
needs you, one boy
get a room, in an arc.
everybody just get a room
no god, universal remote
one tongue, inside you,
misinformation, miscue negation,
miscommunication, no care about divides,
miscegenation, the house rules,
black asian even, white, red and blue.
got wolves, deer, making hay
got The Eagles, with The Beatles
sleeping with the, gone feral, loving
zebras, the lambs,
bunk mates, making the cutest babies.
everybody's singing, we can work it out
even the cats, the dogs,
lovers of the K-nine, loving them feline sea lions,
and now everybody loves the snakes for their
long tongues, physical abilities and the resulting
****** prowess.
enough of this two by two **** were a bad divinity idea
to begin with. Everybody get a room, learn to fit,
whatever parts you got, just stick 'em in.
The Hunans I had to segregate, cause they be another type.
but whoopee if the white boys can't get enough black love,
the asians explaining the karma sutra and the Eskimos are curling their toes,
yada yada how come when it comes to *** everbody loves the other side.
When all were aboard, Noah got a beer, and said I sure hope there is some football on tv, cause everybody loves football.
If anybody sees a zebra striped pigeon, give me a holla!
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC
So while I was enduring hordes of fear, the path to clarity eventually became clear
Because all I needed was for you to be here.
I've always held you dear, wishing you were near, or that next to me you could reappear.
Sometimes I can't even bring about a smile as I gaze in the mirror.
It helps to be aware of the happiness you've attained.
I know I once brought the feelings unto you, and I still feel a little strange.
Locked up tight in a cellar in my heart, the feelings have remained.
Thinking of the years they've sustained, I pray for situations like This we could be trained.
Next to none know of the magic when we stared into each others' eyes..
Everything happened so fast, but it was a more-than-delightful surprise!
Even as ships capsized, I knew somehow we still had our ties.
But I felt lost for so long, probably because of my emotionally driven tries.
A ray of sunshine, a beautiful soul.
A piece of my heart you inadvertantly stole.
With such a little role, potentially never again will I be or feel whole.
I'm unaware of my own control, and to myself I have taken a toll.
Your spirit lifts me enough to want to make improving myself the goal.
Whether or not again our paths cross..
I am making peace with the time lost,
Though still wishing our moments were equipped with a pause,
While regretting never fully telling you how many times you left me with awes..
I just wanted to tell you that I miss you.
I'd hoped I could blame things on a miscue,
But instead I take solace in time I misused.
All I've ever wanted to know is,
Did you ever feel any of this too?
Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 10:16 AM UTC
Sometime acceptance is key to forget about what took the heart's hold.
May of fold, for everything in front of you that you behold.
Cherish what still may accumulate from this cursed concept of time.
Rehearse this mere delusion as it just another illusion illustrated between bonds you may not be fond of, but it will be fine.
Push through and don't miscue.
Remember the solace in the heart but don't take forgranted it's expression.
As it very much may so be your lesson.
Times ran deary, release the fury that no longer serves you.
Don't let the tension of nerves breaththrough.
Rest in a new awake, and don't forsake a new day's break. -marty.
Dec 24, 2021
Dec 24, 2021 at 12:31 PM UTC
Two-tone love affair
Ten a diamonds
A winning pair
River runs through my heart
And into yours
Without your love
I'd be nowhere at all
I'd be in a death crawl
Tail-spinning
Fall
Where are you
When you're
Not with me?
What can life be
But me
Missing thee?
What is two
Without it following
Three?
Life is a triangle - too many points
I'm no preacher
I'm no God fearing man
Give me holy water and I'd drink it
He who acts first
Benefits
Lines on the walls
Paints peeling
Up down
Through and through
What's a lover gonna' do
Without their other?
What's a lover gonna' do
When they lose
Their summer?
What's a lover gonna' do
When the one they love
Has up and gone
And their forced
To find another?
Proud sister
Between clean sheets
Scent of
Chamomile tea an'
Sweet mysteries
There's blue smoke in my eyes
Exploding
Roaring
Bubble-wrapped
Surprise
Been alone
All
These years,
But who's to say
I even miss her
But me
Anymore?
I watched the wakes,
Their rise and fall.
The sun was up
In what seemed to be
A lazy crawl.
Lantern lady,
Mistress of the night:
Can you send me a letter?
Can you give me a call?
Can you stop on by and tell me that
The true know how to fight?
Another denial an'
I'm on the streets,
Passing Chinese cats adorn
Dusty window shades.
A far eye can say what was right
Or wrong,
But when two lover's drift apart
It's a splitting of the seas,
Where everything in between
Is downright and utter
Misery.
Last September,
When we came back
I made a pact
I'd take my crack
Of making what I make
Without self-consciousness, remorse,
Or loathing, but what is a man
When he tries to rid
Himself of necessary poisons.
I didn't know and I still don't.
And you know I still drink but lately
I have to hold my hand,
Still my bill for
What's good for the other
Is where my thoughts need to go
So with her I can see
The coming Winter snow.
When the voice has left,
I'll still
Have my hands.
Take my limbs, take my hair,
Take my muscles, oh' take eyes,
But as long as I got my fingers
An' two hands to reach for pride,
I'll never be silenced,
Even if
She's not near.
Don't think
I don't need her.
She's the wind through the branches,
The shells in my shoes,
The sun through the window,
Even if she acts sometimes
Like she's a wading widow.
Too many complexities in insecurities -
Too much subjective reasoning.
I'm not a man
To pin
Anything down.
All I can do is
Stay true,
Keep writing these
Prose filled
Miscue's.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC
Empty rooms and empty chairs,
No one present here nor there.
Week by week I stand alone,
And when it ends is still unknown.
I fill the emptiness with puzzles and games,
And try my hardest to not blame.
But every single time I've tried,
I feel a darkness grow inside.
I loathe for this, I loathe for that,
I loathe myself for being fat.
I loathe my feeling so many things
That aren't grounded realities.
Things like thinking I no longer look nice,
All because he's stopped telling me every night.
And things like he just doesnt love me as much,
That he'd rather be far away and such.
A part of me knows that these things aren't true,
And that thinking they are is a certain miscue.
But it's hard to look up when I'm all by myself,
So I hide all my worries on a deep mental shelf.
And there on my shelf shall all my fears stay,
As I make myself live each and every day.
I put on a smile and don't let anyone know,
That deep down inside, I truly feel low.
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 6:53 PM UTC
waiting here,
baiting my breath
the sweet taste of wine
loosens my lips
waiting for what'
waiting here
sating my mood
with any food
to taste
and lay
waste to the
staleness
I have become.
Moments
prized and
realized gain
arrived pain
now fully felt,
through skin, like
fabric padded,
fatted not draped
like a discarded
memory or
muscle miscue
as I miss the
mark once and
again.
dullshooter, not sharp
propelled blindly
out my door, into
the day
light mood darkened;
not by shadow,
not by sightless,
not by faith,
for what little
I have I must
share.
Of all these things
buried in me,
my own grave.
Riches?
The pit is full.
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 2:15 AM UTC
*every missed cue
is a miscue
no clue why i miss you
i just do*
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 4:14 PM UTC