Misstepped poems on Hello Poetry

Aaron LaLux Dec 2016

American Refugee

Head feels like a ton of bricks,
trying to retrace my misstepped steps…

Where have I awoken?

What country am I in?

Who was that girl last night?

Why did I choose to go through it again?

When will I finally say enough is enough?

Enough is enough.

Why does the poison feel so good?

I love everything that hates me,
alcohol and cigarettes,
promiscuous girls date me,
but only for a night…

A night was had,
dancing music,
flirting new friends,
we were all in it together,
a glorious moment,
with people from all over the world,
we were on top of the world,
surfing on a rocket,
on Cloud Nine with some fine felines,
bumping beats with a pocket full of sunshine,
flashy lights and flashy ladies,
drinks on me,
literally,
drinks on me,

I felt like we all felt,
so together,
so how’d I end up,
so all alone,
nursing a hangover,
with poached eggs and mochaccinos,
served by a surprisingly cute waitress,
at a cafe somewhere in New Zealand…

Head feels like a ton of bricks,
trying to retrace my steps…

I came here,
to this country,
to escape Hollywood,
where I was trapped in it’s trapping trappings,

trapped in it’s clubs,
trapped in it’s women,
trapped in it’s drugs,
trapped in it’s cliches,
so why is it,
I found myself,
on the other side of the world,
at club with some women on drugs trapped in this same cliche?

Same ****t,
different country,
I guess you can take the boy outta Hollywood,
but you can’t take the Hollywood outta the boy…

I am the world’s first American Refugee,
except I didn’t come on a boat,
in ragged clothes clinging to my body,
and ragged hopes clinging to my psyche,

I came,
on an airplane,
in a first class seat,
dining on the offerings of a corporate worldwide empire,

but it is not the means of movement,
it is the intention behind the actions that matters,

and I came,
with the intention to create a healthier life,
a cleaner life,
a better future for myself and all those I love.

I am an American Refugee,

I am an American Refugee,
fleeing the subconscious oppressions of my country,
fleeing the persecution of all things I held holy and sacred,
I am tired of witnessing the spiritual ****** of my falling comrades,

I am a American Refugee,
more specifically,
a Hollywood Refugee,
fleeing the bright lights and large egos,
searching for solace and refuge,
amongst the towering rainforest trees of New Zealand,

I fled the toxic water the toxic air and the toxic people,
to drink fresh water breathe clean are and befriend friendly people,

so why,
why,
why would I subject myself,
to the same oppressions that I’ve attempted to flee from?

Justin Bieber echoed across the dance floor,

“Is it to late to say I’m sorry now?
Yeah I know that I let you down,
is it too late to say I’m sorry now?”

“I’m sorry.”,

“Sorry.”,

“Sorry.”,

“Yeah I know that I let you down,
is it too late to say I’m sorry now?”,

and as cheesy and cliche as it sounds,
I get the chills because I knew exactly what he was saying,
and I wondered if anyone else in that club was an American Refugee,
I wondered if anyone else in that club knew what Justin Bieber was saying,
or if they were just dancing because of the beat,
and they were just singing along because that’s what they think they’re supposed to do,
because most people have to be told what’s cool,
then force fed that coolness until they have too many pairs of shoes,

no amount of shoes will ever bring you real happiness,
and I honestly apologize,
we Hollywoodians were put in a position to lead the free world,
and everyone listened to us,
you all listened to us,
you gave us your ears and your hearts,
your souls and your minds,
and all we gave you were improbable dreams,
and glorious visions,
of an unsustainable lifestyle that you go broke trying to duplicate,

when will you realize you can chase,
but you can never catch something that doesn’t really exist?

And I’m sorry,
but I give up,
I’m done,
because,

“Yeah I know once more I’ve let you down,
is it too late to say I’m sorry now?”.

I’m sick and tired so I’m retiring,
I’m retreating to build a retreat,
somewhere in New Zealand,
where I can be free again,

and I’ve finally made it here,
but it seems mentally I’m not prepared,
because I’m still going to clubs with a bunch of girls,
then getting used up foolishly because I foolishly thought they cared,

who cares?

I don’t want the weight of the world on my shoulders anymore,
I don’t need all eyes on me,
I just want to get rid of all my wants,
so that I can finally be freed and have all that I need,

you must get rid of your wants,
so you can do what you like,

and I do feel a little bit relieved to finally be in New Zealand,
but honestly the weight of the world is still on my shoulders,

I still can’t shake this feeling,
that I’m just going through the routine,
as I write these words on this laptop,
and fuel my words with free range eggs and caffeine,

up on this mountain all alone,
even though I’m at a crowded cafe,
and it feels like sunrise,
even though it’s already mid-day,

my head feels like a ton of bricks,
trying to retrace my misstepped steps…

∆ Aaron La Lux ∆

author of

The Poetry Trilogy
The Holy Trilogy
The HH Trilogy

#american #hiphop #refugees #newzealand

Susan Adele Wiggins Dec 2018

Opening No. 2

It was a bright spring day out by the pool
We’d gathered together amidst lawn chairs
To watch

A somewhat portly
Man centered in the water
Swirling like Esther
Incanting
We sipped our ****** wine and smiled cautiously but amused no less.

From the far northern edges came a little
Light haired boy dressed like an angel
Or perhaps the son
Of Poseidon
I think the whole point of this had something to do with Poseidon
Or some other god of the sea
That remained unclear for
Me at least

Needless to say, this was a pool
A little pool with green astroturf surrounding
Piquant with chlorine
Not churning and grey.
Again, to the north stood the child
His son no doubt
Who must have been told simply and repeatedly
Just go to Daddy in the pool
Stand by the side
And he will pick you up
Hold onto your trident
Ok!?

But upon making his move to
Daddy
the child
Misstepped
Stumbled
Fell
And in so doing began to wail
Leaving his otherwise stoic father
Perplexed and annoyed
Astonished
His eyes squinting out the sun
His performance ending before it ever began

Three women rushed to the little wails
The mother scooped her child into her arms
Cradling the tears to her *******
Her attendants ran for vanilla ice cream
The boy now sated
Was resplendent in calm satisfaction

Father left the pool
Make-up running down his wet face
The child ate his ice cream from the bowl
steadfast in his concentration
and seeming innocence
The mother held her little man
The man in charge
We stood up and left for more ****** wine
Perhaps the Pinot.

#performamceart #fail #reverend #ethanacres #thestandardhollywood

John Jun 2014

The Ballad of Theon Greyjoy

My father, my father
Now he's going to see
I've proven myself worth a bother
And there's no stopping what I can be
Future king of the islands of iron
And son to the one who they currently worship
Sprung in the hard isles, I was
But raised in the frozen north
I can only imagine the plans father will put forth

Now that I've sailed
Though with an unruly crew
The iron price shall prevail
Because my father says it's true
And he is His Holiness
And the undisputed head of my native land
I can do nothing to quell my hopefulness
On these ****** rocks, on this crimson shore I stand
Now and again though I've been told
That I am Theon of the North
And am a part, no longer, of the isles where I was birthed
I will show my father just who his son has become
****** it in the face of islanders who don't believe in their rightful heir
I've made mistakes, misstepped the side who won
But I am a noble, one born into which I will flair

I'm off home now, though it is my snowfallen one
Where I learned what is right
Where there is no such thing as an "iron price"
One which is embedded in my heart so tight
But I mustn't look back now
At all I have gained from these people and lands
For it's time to wake this sleeping cow
I know it is right when I step foot on the sand
March my men straight back "home"
Sneak up, like proper thieves, and sack my once-called castle
Who would've thought it'd be such a gods-be-****** hassle

Based on the character of Theon Greyjoy in George RR Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series. The events in the poem mostly occur in book two, when Robb sends Theon back home to the Iron Islands to talk his father into siding with the newly minted King in the North. Theon's father, Balon Greyjoy, shows little respect and love to his son who then promptly returns to Winterfell to sack the place he once called home.

#of #game #thrones #stark #theon #greyjoy #robb #balon

Joe Milton Dec 2012

Human Climate

What a tragically human fault,
The wound of our human nature
Doused in a history that’s a burning salt
Tongues drag 'cross the wound to soften the sting
The taste is a foul thing,
savor these poor decisions;
Feel flavour of mistakes, disgrace, dead-dreams and heart-aches. All a waste.
Wastes of wits, dreams, moments, chances, waste of choices,
Voices lost somewhere in evolution, where we drew the conclusion That since we’re superior, all must then be inferior.
Our decision was dominance, not prominence.
We wield wicked weapons of war with pin-point precision.
Laid waste in minutes what it took lifetimes to build,
Disregard the structures, think of the innocence killed.
Blood gets spilled like there's some quota to fill.
And isnt it a lovely day to be a human being?
There's nothing like ****** in the morning,
Or gunfire without warning. Countries still warring
Over a fabric of society long since ripped; torn.
The peace concept is present, but the practice so foreign.
World leaders still ******* their ideals.
None of them know what it feels like to be,
see, or even concern themselves.
They’re empty shells
The beast misstepped during his waltz into the world,
Humans got a kiss from Selfish, then hurled to the curb
Then, alone in rain, decided that's our date.
Making a perfect pair in a world unfair,
That Irate and Anger should copulate with Power and Knowledge
Birthing 7 billion beings none better than the last,
but each boasting birth rights, over shells that tumble from empty chambers.
Isnt it a lovely day to be a human being?

Jared Eli Oct 2013

Small talk I excel at, but being creepy is apparently the price

So your name's Amanda
And I said I'd remember it by how much
You aren't like Amanda Bynes
And you know my friend the dancer
You were there when I asked if she had
Cut that guy's head off with a snap of a leg leftover from
A misstepped plie
I told you my name
Age
Blood type
Mother's maiden name
And address
Just to make conversation
(and also because I knew you wouldn't remember any of it)
And you said that it was creepy that I decided
To sit near you
When everyone else I knew
Had left me
(I left enough room for Jesus between our backpacks
Sitting side by side)
I can't blame you for being rude
I just wish I was better at making
Good first impressions
Than I was at small talk

Madeleine Toerne Feb 2015

Botched

Like a log cabin with the door missing
a beautiful painting of a lady with the eyes botched out.
lazily wearing sunglasses and thick oriental scarves and stumbling around snow covered bricks and steps for tea.
If we spoke last night, I’m not the wiser.

Multiple television screens were left on, emitting evil streams of light into the darkness everywhere.
I misstepped and said my favorite instrument is a tuba, and a tuba bellowed and burped in my second sets of dreams.
Now everyone goes and I just sit here alone, without the right books
without the right writing utensils, without the right self, even.

You all look so handsome walking down the street together.
Will we ever be able to reminiscence Wednesday morning, Sunday morning, Saturday morning, Thursday morning (you know the rest) and feel that all the decisions we made were wise?
Idleness does not exist.
Impulsivity does, though, and she is a *****.

she’ll come at night, draped in ****, soft, alluring material
she’ll tell you it’s okay for now
do what makes you happy for a little while
for a while
the morning doesn’t happen
the morning might be bright
you might have an internal dialogue and it might end it “why am I here?”
but, hey, it might not.

Like a painting of beautiful angel face woman,
naked, and stretched out on a velvet canopy bed
but the eyes are botched out.

thomezzz Dec 2019

blue velvet

she’s vulnerable
flesh carved out of velvet
blood as thin as water
mind as malleable as clay
it appealed to you, this softness
of touch in the morning
of voice in your ear
of bleeding heart beating
you sought it out
her hair as soft as silk
the sunshine off her sternum
her mouth parted and wet
she’s beautiful
the way she fits with you
her hand wrapped around your own
her laughter filling your silence

but without warning,
her soft touch turned to
a million bugs underneath your skin
her voice melted into
the shrillest sound at night
her vulnerability withered into
a weakness you couldn’t escape
you tried to let her down gently
as gently as she let you in
but you misstepped
and let her destroy herself.

#love #relationships #breakups

Loch Ness Monster Sep 2019

a nightmare, how cute!

___ , last night I dreamed of your dream.

I saw you on a New York street. Just like it would never happen. When we hugged, I told you “I think about you every day”. “Of course” you thought. You are sick.

I went to your show and brought you flowers. Roses - why. The weight will break her. Daises would have been enough. But I couldn’t help myself.

The curtain - then there you were. In the middle - of all places. A lucid dream of white streaked/blonde hair. Floating like you belonged. No question.

“Wow” A real celebrity. I wonder if she fixed her hip? I wonder how they covered up that tiny scar? Makeup? Or am I too far away now to see.? Wow. A real celebrity. “And I know her.”

The dressing room. Misstepped roses in hand. Just like every time - the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I had never met another human like that. I sat down. I cried. I couldn’t help it. She did not. She looked down at it - sad.

Tonight I dreamed of your dream. Just like it would never happen.

Why not mine?

#dream #love #sickness #nightmare

Jamie Sep 2019

Our Road

As we walked forward,
I stumbled, and I fell,
And you reached out to help me.
You waited as I dusted off my knees,
As I tried to walk forward with you again.

But I could not catch my footing,
And the pain of watching me fail pushed us apart.
I fell through every hole,
I tripped over every branch,
And I stood to long at crossroads.

I slowed us down,
As you continued,
As you moved forward,
But still reaching back to help,

Had I only seen the distance between us.
Had I only seen how gracefully you walked.
Had I noticed the lack of hesitation in your steps.

I would not have misstepped,
I would not have tripped,
I would have not been to late,
To late to reach for your hand.

I missed my chance to walk beside you,
I was walking to slow,
I was tripping too much,
And I was looking around instead of ahead.

Now I walk this path alone,
And even tho I've tripped,
And even tho I've stumbled,
I've picked up my pace,
And began to walk with assurance in my steps.

I look forward,
Not caring what lies behind me,
I've cut off the weights that slowed me down.

I walk this road,
Ready to face all its obstacles,
Running to where we should be,
Where I've wanted us to be,
Running to meet you there,
Hoping I dont arrive too late.

I chase this,
Like a man chases a ghost,
I look for your steps,
And try to smell you on the air.

My heart yurns to see you again.
My lungs burn,
My feet ache,
But my pace stays the same.

I challenge this road,
And all its obstacles,
Hoping you arent walking on a different path.

I just hope one day we will find our way,
Our way back to each other...

It's how we get back up that matters

#lostlove #love #missher #imissyou #oneday

Julia Celine Jun 2022

Swimming Pool

There is a god at the bottom of the swimming pool. Whirring, he wakes me from my sleep. He scuttles like a crab across vinyl. Some nights, I stay up to listen to the song he scratches into the tile.

It’s a somber sound, settling unearthily on concrete. It wasn’t meant to be enjoyed, I know. But I do.

I close my eyes and imagine it’s the sound of the earth turning on its axis. I imagine it’s the sound of time moving, year after year. It turns and turns and I follow suit, casting shadows behind me.

I imagine the god is lonely and far away from home. I imagine he is just as lost as we are, piecing together maps from soggy, fallen leaves and clumps of hair from the filter.

He cried himself into his containment. He misstepped once and fell into this hole. I hope he curses himself for being created without wings and arms and hands that could climb out of this.

I hope he catches his reflection in bubbles every now and then, and stops to consider how his face grew so hard.

He cries out and causes waves to rise and fall, splashes around, drags the moon close and pushes it away.

I hope he knows he can do anything, believes he can do anything, except help himself.

Each morning, I clean the pool. I dissect his well-laid plans with a skimmer and make his world clear and beautiful again. All for him, of course.

I imagine he is building character, struggling in a world that was not meant for him to live in, a world meant for someone else to enjoy. We built him in our image, to do the job we don’t want to do.

I hope he wonders at the unprompted responsibility and grows frustrated each time I insist that I would not give him a challenge he couldn’t overcome. I hope he’s beginning to learn.

There is a god at the bottom of the swimming pool, learning how to grow old and tired of swimming.

AK93 May 2016

Excommunication

How quickly you forgot all the things you said, and I misstepped as well but I had you causing a wreck inside my head. Anytime I'd try to write all my ink would come out red, on a thousand pages my feelings for you were bled, and it hit me so hard because I hung on your every word, then hung myself from the rafters and watched my life swing over the disaster. Now you've come back blaming me for things that you misheard, you always had me so misunderstood. Forget you, I know that I should, but when the only person that you even care about says they're leaving for good, what did you think I would do, feel sorry for you? Because I'm such an ******* to have driven you to disperse, you knew it was me but you didn't know my verse, and now since you've been gone things have only gotten worse. Every night I've been stuck awake, trying to put a pin on my mistake, hiding away in my lonely place, feeling like I'm gonna explode, because no matter how high I'd get I still could not forget your face. I felt like I was in space, like I removed myself from planet earth without a trace, but deep down I know I can't escape this place

Olivia Apr 2018

To Max

Hello, good boy.

I remember how you always listened.
You held my secrets close.
I told you the twisted words that rolled off my tongue,
And you never flinched.

I remember how you always heard.
You were a diligent friend.
I taught you about the planets, the Earth, the stars,
And you never left.

I remember how you took your time.
You never were too quick.
I hurried you sometimes, restlessly waiting,
And you were always patient.

I remember how you showed your power.
You knew when to choose your battles.
I smiled at you, the second-in-command,
And you ruled kindly.

I remember how your wise soul showed,
Your eyes never hid it.
I was always transfixed, trying to find out who you’d been,
And you told me you were simply... here.

I remember how I read to you.
You always seemed embarassed,
I spoke the word of fables gone, your herd gathered round to hear,
And you casually stood apart.

I remember how I failed you.
You unceasingly forgave me.
I messed things up, I was angry with you,
And you always showed me it was okay.

I remember how I cried to you,
You always let me do it.
I did not succeed, I learned atrocities,
And you brought me endless comfort.

I remember how we struggled together,
You always gave 110%.
I didn’t always believe it; I gave less myself,
And you never stopped trying.

I remember how we were imperfect,
We both failed at times.
I lost confidence, you misstepped,
And we always worked past it.

I remember how my memory fades,
I still cannot express you.
I try to grasp what little I have,
But you transcend words.

Harrison Buloke Jul 2020

Broken nail

Dancing strays and toe jam

I met you when we were on the run. We were running from our own tails. You had your boundaries, and I had mine. Our rhythm was off, and our mistakes were like broken toenails after a night of misstepped drunken dancing. We should have slowed, learned each other’s rhythm, and set aside time for our feet to heal. But we pushed on, running from our own tails, never letting our toenails heal.

Chandy Apr 2020

[Poisoned Medicine]

Been looking
For a way
To help us and all
Just a man
Stuck in a phase
When will it phase out?
I don’t know
Yet who does?
The map hasn’t been charted
Come out
Of the trance
Submerged underwater
Cannot climb back up
Where did your life vest go?
Shed it like your memories.
Going around
Helping hand
Yet what if a touch
Turns into an attack
Took one step toward healing
Fell backwards
I’ve misstepped
Lucky to wake up for breakfast
Make sure you’ll live to dinner
Fly away
Not today
Clip your wings
Casted in iron
Born out of spite
Life is alive
Keep it that way
Torn away
Free of poison
Full of dignity
Yet you…
Prescribed the medicine
Yourself
Is it going to help?
Time will decide
How health will decline

— The End —