"mistrustful" poems
The grit in this world seems to be gone,
all of us have just become pawns
in this static, yet enigmatic,
state of mowed lawns, and designer shoes.
Yesterday, I asked for a hammer,
to fix things up around here,
and was asked if I wanted red or blue?
Because everything nowadays is a choice.
I said to the man in a soft voice, "I'm colorblind."
If only to remind him that it didn't matter what color the hammer was.
Because you see, regardless of whether the hammer is red or blue,
I'm still going to nail and glue
this world together again.
And make a world where cranes have feathers
and not tall steel bars,
and life is just a really surreal cigar.
Tasty and lustful.
Mysterious, but certainly not mistrustful.
A world where only adjectives can make a complete sentence,
and not create any repentance.
Are you catching my drift?
Grasping the concept?
If your mind is still adrift,
then leave it there.
Let it float around until it reaches something profound.
Then come back.
Join the rest of us for a mid-afternoon snack,
with lemonade and empathy.
Ginger snaps and morality.
And a rainbow.
Even if I am colorblind.
Aug 31, 2010
Aug 31, 2010 at 8:24 PM UTC
There is no doubt about it:
You have always loved me.
A leonine love.
A love that swells in the womb and the heart
From the very first twinkle in the eye.
Hit play.
Your eyes are swampish,
Mistrustful and marinated in cheap wine,
Shot through with blood, preserved in your own saltwater.
Those alligator eyes
That watch your girls,
Watch your girls board a train and draw away
Into the rest of their lives.
Leaving you stewing in twelve years’ worth of regret.
Years ago,
I used to pinch your forearms -
Watch the skin crepe up
Between my four year old fingers.
Thin blood. Tired skin.
Silently you eat your breakfast of pills and toast at the kitchen counter.
Throw in a horrid hacking cough to remind us you’re still here.
You always write everything down.
As if to tattoo it into your memory.
If you’ve locked the door behind you, it’ll be alright.
If you’ve got half a bottle left.
If you’ve left no trace on the bathroom carpet.
If you’ve woken up in the morning.
You can feel my eyes watching you.
You spend your days watching
Daytime TV, eating salad cream sandwiches and
Hit the bottle at a safe distance from noon.
Safe enough.
Your lipsticks have gone stale,
Now it’s porous skin, sweat stains, grey hair.
I find you poring over bank statements and local newspapers.
Scouring for a job, you say,
And clippings of your daughters
At school functions, clasping exam results.
You keep them in a cereal box that we covered in paint
Age five. We’re in double figures now.
I get drunk on weeknights.
Rewind.
Hold me.
Ball of flesh and screams
And you’ve got your whole life ahead of you.
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 4:50 PM UTC
a writer writes his writ upon his therapist
becomes a terrorist upon an innocent blank canvas
and breathes deep of deep water
searching aimlessly through the murky abyss
for word choice or some voice that sank it's teeth
into calm waters, sinking calm into the universe
beneath stormy oceans, and coral reefs
and then it is lost forever
or at least
for the quotient of our time strung together
so the writer has to make the world smaller
less corners to hide behind on an island
without defiling a perfect balance between dreams
and silence
the writer risks every random revelry being revealed
inside of a blank pages first time
to quiet the world in their minds
and find calm sealed away in a place you'd rather be
but the longer you stay reality fades to grey
and you only see what could be satisfactory
some day
a writer experiences love like a story, but euphoric in ways
unexplained except by a blank white page.
which becomes a mistrustful mistress
and you begin to miss your healthy distrust
instead of a co-trust between love and the pen and the paper
a writer can feel only through the pen
so if a writer writes on your skin
you'll know they want to see you again
and you to see them
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 3:14 AM UTC
No matter how much you deny,
A lot of people don't know,
What really does go,
On in your mysterious mind;
They say you're ordinary,
Sweet, simple and soft;
But I know you better,
You're enigmatic and a hopeless fool;
I see right through you,
I see right past your innocent smile,
I see right past your sweet voice,
I see that you're a lonesome being with no choice;
To you, trust is a treasure,
Which has no measure;
To you, trust is a luxury,
That you cannot afford to lose;
You have a biased view,
About this world;
You think everyone is waiting,
To hurt you real bad;
You think the world wants,
You to fall deep into a bottomless pit,
You think they'd love to see,
The light in your eyes unlit;
According to you,
Sharing your secret,
Is like giving away,
Your credit card;
You may be a strong person,
But right now,
You're cautious, fearful and downright scared,
You're scratched, bruised and disfiguring-ly scarred;
You'd rather ****** your own family,
Than share your deepest thoughts,
You'd rather become a detached, holy saint,
Than give anybody the access to your heart;
To you, trust is a treasure,
Which has no measure;
To you, trust is a luxury,
That you cannot afford to lose;
But my dear, don't you see,
That you're a trapped bird,
Locked in a golden cage
Totally not free;
But my dear, don't you know,
That we, your people, aren't your real foes;
Your real nemesis, my dear,
Is you;
At first, your thoughts may seem mild,
But after a while,
They'll start running wild,
Staining, tainting and darkening your pure, pure soul;
Your poisonous thoughts will,
Take away the goodness of your heart,
Take away the humanity within you,
And carefully replace it with -
Fiery, scalding, burning anger,
Cold, grudging bitterness,
And a deep, carnivorous hunger,
To annihilate the ones who love you;
So, stop being so mistrustful,
Open out your heart
Slowly at first,
Then all at once;
Do not fear being backstabbed,
Because no matter what,
There shall always be people,
Who will be there for you;
Do not fear getting heartbroken,
Because, my friend, you're so strong,
And there are thousands of others,
Who'd help you mend your heart;
Do not fear everybody,
There might be ten people,
Who might hurt you,
But a thousand more who love you;
Contrary to what you think,
Pushing away the world,
Will make you sadder,
Not safer;
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 9:02 AM UTC
I used to believe in the magic of eyelashes.
I would find one on my cheek
After rubbing my eyes "good morning."
I stared it down from my finger
As the words to make the wish
Would formulate in my mind,
Watching the long, thin hair
Like the slits of my mother's mistrustful eyes
When her cherry-colored face
Shakes with vigor opposite
My father, gaunt.
The wind gathered strength
Inside of me,
The eyelash would float away -
A black dandelion.
How many eyelashes does it take
To stop the stickiness
Rolling toward my chin?
One day I may find my eyes bare
With no way
To stop the blotches of ink from smudging
On the paper that I write on.
But that's if I still believed in the magic of eyelashes.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 3:49 PM UTC
in the trenches
battling rattling prattlers
straddling irritated malcontents
brandishing education
via the internet –
limiting access
trimming excess
brimming with confidence
lifers in academic dress
blessed by family members
proud of a child’s accomplishments
allowed only to wear non blue regalia –
cell-in after dinner
no-yard, no rec
lock-down at the correction facility
eight by eleven printed paper
symbol of hard work and determination
in the face of contempt and mistrustful eyes
lies –
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 1:51 PM UTC
Is there an owner on this ghost house?
Little creatures creeping from every corner
Scared and scary but mostly frightened
By the very fact of their existence
Speaking screaming interrupting never
Listening to each other's story
Never fully in agreement loosing track of perspective
Mistrustful of trust and disgusted by care...
Such is a mind of a once broken child
Can we put him back in his cot?
Can we look into his wide open eyes and believe
His is the truth of suffering and search for lost hope?
Should we ask the child knowing he knows not the answer?
Wouldn't we confuse him furthermore
Seeking answers drained from his broken core?
If only the child returned to the haunted house
If only he found his courage
Maybe he would make sense
Of all this mess.
We'll just sit here and watch
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 9:06 PM UTC
The rat-terrier
that I’d loved for
over a decade
has been dead for
awhile now.
Sometimes I miss that dog.
Sometimes I miss cigarettes.
My America is now
the go-to destination
for the suicide-bomber
or
The Mass-Shooting Machine
All of this national abomination
has become all too normal.
&
why is any of this
at all attached,
in any way,
to our
Easter-Sunday-Church-Going
morals?
Tragedy,
a travesty,
trustworthy humans.
-untrue-
mistrustful,
unworthy misogynist,
malcontents
lacking empathy.
Unpaid checks,
no gravity -
a lacking of grateful
hearts.
Our ears destined,
designed, dedicated to hearing
only the hurtful,
instead of the healing.
On the take -
take or be taken
fake or be faking-
make or be made-
scapegoated,
goaded into submission
leaving
us wondering
just what,
exactly is so bad
about hate.
I mean everyone’s doing it these days;
and no one seems to be doing it wrong.
Maybe that’ll change
once we’re on our
deathbeds.
***
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications 2021
Apr 14, 2021
Apr 14, 2021 at 7:05 PM UTC
**I've been trying so hard to not try so hard
I was afraid I had forgotten how you take your love
or how to forget the ghost with no eyes
I've never actually seen
and that he may have taken your love for a spin
new glow;
checking your hair and makeup every other minute
in MY mirror though
that walk, and new vicky secrets sets
that hold you like they've been built with your curves in mind
I panicked
I couldn't remember the pass code to your belly laughs
to your fingertips, to your deepest confidences
to your sweetest dreams... to your water well
I couldn't remember
you told me it was his birth year
spitefully, in a heated beef
I've been trying so hard to not try so hard
I was afraid I had forgotten you take your love
the only way your heart knows how;
black, no sugar
I'm anxious
Nobody supposed to be here... you said
I keep waiting for the other heel to drop
I beast with word gods, I'm a monster
but your cat's got my tongue?
Imagine that
I've been trying so hard to not try so hard
I couldn't remember the pass code
to the pride I tried to live above
I forgot that I selectively forget
self-destructive notes to self
****** up people **** up people, no lie"
No matter who.
You can't believe their mistrustful mouths
And just when you decide to accidentally forget
they remind you that they can't help it
You are who you are... you are who you love
I take mine with caramel and whipped cream by the way
You never asked
I've been trying so hard to not try so hard
And I need to be
way too cautious on this brokedown joyride**
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 10:36 AM UTC
“Call it not love, for Love to heaven is fled
Since sweating Lust on earth usurped his name,
Under whose simple semblance he hath fed
Upon fresh beauty, blotting it with blame;
Which the hot tyrant stains and soon bereaves,
As caterpillars do the tender leaves.
“Love comforteth like sunshine after rain,
But Lust’s effect is tempest after sun;
Love’s gentle spring doth always fresh remain,
Lust’s winter comes ere summer half be done;
Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies;
Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies.
“More I could tell, but more I dare not say:
The text is old, the orator too green.
Therefore in sadness now I will away;
My face is full of shame, my heart of teen;
Mine ears that to your wanton talk attended
Do burn themselves for having so offended.”
With this, he breaketh from the sweet embrace
Of those fair arms which bound him to her breast,
And homeward through the dark land runs apace;
Leaves Love upon her back deeply distressed.
Look how a bright star shooteth from the sky,
So glides he in the night from Venus’ eye;
Which after him she darts, as one on shore
Gazing upon a late embarked friend,
Till the wild waves will have him seen no more,
Whose ridges with the meeting clouds contend;
So did the merciless and pitchy night
Fold in the object that did feed her sight.
Whereat amazed, as one that unaware
Hath dropped a precious jewel in the flood,
Or ’stonished as night-wand’rers often are,
Their light blown out in some mistrustful wood;
Even so confounded in the dark she lay,
Having lost the fair discovery of her way.
And now she beats her heart, whereat it groans,
That all the neighbour caves, as seeming troubled,
Make verbal repetition of her moans;
Passion on passion deeply is redoubled:
“Ay me!” she cries, and twenty times “Woe, woe!”
And twenty echoes twenty times cry so.
She, marking them, begins a wailing note,
And sings extemporally a woeful ditty—
How love makes young men thrall, and old men dote;
How love is wise in folly, foolish witty.
Her heavy anthem still concludes in woe,
And still the choir of echoes answer so.
William Shakespeare
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 1:20 AM UTC
At one point in my life, I stopped believing in fairytales.
I didn't hope to have my own love story coz it usually fails.
I just enjoyed loving myself and my support system.
I wanted to just spend all my time with them.
But one day, I asked God for something I've been so curious about,
"Father, I wanted to know how it feels like to be loved with no doubt."
Then He answered me, "If you're not satisfied with My love alone, the more you cannot be satisfied by others' love."
And so, I spend most of my time loving and appreciating my Father above.
I was getting along so well but I didn't like hearing love stories.
Yeah, I was bitter and watched bitter movies.
Hehe, I didn't care about admirers.
I became insensitive about their feelings which made me an offender.
I built higher walls, and thicker boundaries.
I built it that way so no one can try to hurt me at least.
My mistrust issues were enormous.
My bitterness was also contagious.
Then, this man came.
I thought accepting his love is lame.
He tried so hard to go through my mistrustful heart.
Until now, he's still trying despite the difficult start.
He love me just the way I like it.
Every day, he shows me how I should be loved with no limit.
He's not ashamed of me.
He doesn't care about how people see me.
He doesn't mind how I look.
For him, I am good enough even if Im not the best cook.
He accepts me for who I am not for who I can become.
He treats me the way I should be which is often not practiced by some.
He doesn't care if I'm OC.
He doesn't mind, he tolerates me.
I can watch any corny or childish movie with him.
I can just be with him and dream.
He teases and argues with me,
But never did he leave without an apology.
I have a best friend in him and a soulmate too.
He is my cheerleader and he tells me,"I love you."
"I am happy," truly I can say.
Because he shows I'm worthy every day.
Yes, I have cried for someone
But that doesn't mean I can never move on.
I realized how blessed I am because of him.
He made me love God even more and be thankful to Him.
I may just be ordinary
But just be true to me and I will make you happy
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 7:24 AM UTC
We all have our imagine of it.
In our minds , we describe it to a tee.
Without comprehending we might be skipping over various things.
I never was told love could be...
Heartbreaking.
Deceitful.
Ungrateful.
Not when you imaging it being joyful.
In our minds, it's life saving.
Exciting.
Emotional.
Sharing and caring.
I never was told love could be..
Misused.
Manipulative.
Mistrustful.
Then again, I didn't research like I should.
For, if I did search it.
I would have found a special love.
I never was told love brings happiness.
To offset the sadness.
Which no one deserves.
When there's so much gladness in the world.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 9:33 PM UTC
I've never seen a brighter red than your Honda's one.
The rigid metal cold to the touch contrasts with my warm palm.
Its black wings, mistrustful, promise to enchant you away from me.
They tell me about your reckless riding through the wild city.
Morning glory flowers surround your backyard,
and unlike them we always come alive at nighttime.
Under a ethereal dark blue ocean starred sky
I stare at you stealthily, it doesn't take much until I decide to dive.
Your grey waters and my black waters do not compare,
all of this mismatch leads me to deep despair.
Sinking deep down, it gets darker, but somehow we can breathe.
Trading love to forget our sorrows, hoping it will work as Lethe.
Jan 14, 2018
Jan 14, 2018 at 11:14 AM UTC
We all have our imagine of it.
In our minds , we describe it to a tee.
Without comprehending we might be skipping over various things.
I never was told love could be...
Heartbreaking.
Deceitful.
Ungrateful.
Not when you imaging it being joyful.
It our minds, it's life saving.
Exciting.
Emotional.
Sharing and caring.
I never was told love could be..
Misused.
Manipulative.
Mistrustful.
Then again, I didn't research like I should.
For, if I did search it.
I would have found a special love.
I never was told love brings happiness.
To offset the sadness.
Which no one deserves.
When there's so much gladness in the world.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC
i yearn to change
the world
but i can't seem
to change myself
i fear the gears have ground to a halt
and i've been left to gather rust
between the teeth of tired cogs
in the jaws of this dysfunctional mess
am i nothing more
than a bent tool
a broken fool trapped
in self-detesting testament
piece
me together
with anger anguish
and mistrustful lust
the aspects of a psyche
peeled back
like flayed fingernails
exposing fresh flesh
i've resolved
to be a nightly victim
of my own failing
mental health
i may be pointing fingers
and smashing mirrors
but i haven't been avoiding
the abject reality
a reflection
i know reflexively is inexorably
responsible for this current
catastrophe
i
am my own
sworn
enemy
a contagion
jealously infecting
everyone and everything
i've tried to love
though i dream of death
every evening
i continually awaken
disappointed
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 12:00 AM UTC
Both sides opened up the doors to their once-closed countrysides.
the intense light that shined into their once dark eyes
lit up their once grey skies
in result...
such color changes had changed their once heavy and drowning pride
once sinking into the despair of mistrustful quicksands
of each other
through long-range binoculars
The now once close-up and handshaking meeting
through the opening of these once closed doors
was nothing under "Spectacular."
******* from chains of Mind-Limited training from ancestors on how to lead their people
breaking into the freed world
for their wills to explore a freer
and ingenious means in which to advance a more obsolete and dying nation...
the voices of hunger and change had broken open the barrier of light
to those ideas vacating,
A fireworks level celebration.
As to arms leads to death
Hand in hand
Side by side alliance leads to strength and advancement of future
leads
our two nations
to salvation
Ways to fuse the divided cuts of division like a medical suture.
Now, as we grow to know and to trust one another, both sides can learn
one another's bright cultures
while abandoning other notions
that was ill-founded by ideology and myth
and empower us with much more.
growth and change
prosperity
and even
Unity
New people ruled by a leader that saw the real world through his bare eyes
rather than through the machine
now can equal with us the means
in which to live a united life
Happy and to others in conflict
A better a way to live
as brothers in the world
Large, happy, and clean.
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 6:41 PM UTC
I am baffled ghost that thine,
Esteem armes the nobility of lige;
Please'd the scruple valiant of truth,
Folly exprest my valour, my love.
Envied the potions of weary gate,
Fold my shadows nobility too late,
Behold for I have been seal'd;
Bewitching the tempting tongue.
I am ashamed to kiss the wanton harmony,
Lent you my silver quality of lies;
I am blown of love of thine,
Unaware to mistrustful actions of mine.
- ᴘʀɪᴀᴍ ᴘᴇᴀʀᴇ
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 1:27 AM UTC
Drunk again and crying
Her brown eyes become a blue gem
and her body staggers softly yet sweetly
She's uncertain and speaks like a wild western wind
and her heart is so difficult to mend
Her mind balances like a Bull walking on tightrope
and I have become a mistrustful misanthrope
My hopes and dreams were hung and choked
and her sorrows are drowned in temporary bliss
neither of us can forget and I long for that last kiss
oh what a life I miss
Me and her thrash like tides in trouble waters
and I lay abandoned into the deep sea
Although she has someone new I hear restraint
My heart is bound to hers and I can't escape
She was once like my wife and a part of me myself and I
and now I wonder if I'll be whole again once more
I payed ruby ransoms red as blood for you my love
and I prayed for you to be happy and fly free as a dove
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 11:52 PM UTC