"molehills" poems
Society moves like a bullet
And there's no way to cool it
We're not big fans of reflection
So we become slaves to deflection
Bouncing off of hard surfaces
Like limiting gun purchases
Constriction isn't part of or vocabulary
Proliferation is all we know
Watching weapon supplies grow
I live in a country
Riddled by bullets
Bullets that blast through our ****** body
Though the holes in our mind are bigger
When we can **** those we think are naughty
We become judges when we pull the trigger
But the media makes mountains out of molehills
And it is for those exaggerated reasons we ****
We are stuck in a bullet storm
When TV advertises bullet ****
This helps make bullets the norm
So we treat mass shootings with a familiarity
Because we can't acknowledge the only similarity
Is obviously the gun
We're blinded by the sun
Of defense contractors
They're negative reactors
When we purpose a change
The conversation they rearrange
By firing in every possible direction
This is the aforementioned deflection
And it works
You can tell because people are dying
Or standing in the street crying
Or watching the news sighing
Bullet time has wooed us
Bullet crimes have moved us
There are people who gain wealth
From our diminishing health
They hold society on their rope
And the only way we can cope
Is to ****** that rope from their greedy grasp and pull it
But that's hard to do while being punctured by bullets
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 3:21 AM UTC
the trouble lies
in your thighs
plump skin, of pink, apricot, nutmeg
fresh flesh fetched far
taught to knee, cuffed at ankle
red carpet to round hips
they ripple, as you stomp
as they should
you're a peach bottomed girl of pear tree house
she is a willow girl
her legs, they wind
country lanes that slim and thin
less lard, longer length
one music note to pink, apricot, nutmeg toes
pillars under sacred, upholding
the light twist of hips
is there the same problem
does it there lie
in that girl's thighs?
your thighs are equally moulded
pink, apricot, nutmeg
soft and plump and trembling, still
in mountains, or molehills
you're a peach bottomed girl of pear house
she is a willow tree girl of birch place
together, women
you have thighs
and neither of
those thighs
lies
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 10:13 AM UTC
Pestered and pursued
by unknown foes
A topsyturvy land
where snakes can have horns
and cows can have fangs.
Night'mares' where the day's stallions
make mountains out of molehills
A chance to witness greek mythology-like creatures for real
For dreamland tis a place for the unreal and surreal.
Those hair-raising scary scary dreams
beset with horrified silent screams!
We do try to interrupt nightmares, pinching ourselves
With relief wake up to see there aren't any horrid elves.
We also try to interpret dreams filled with mystery
But gifted dream interpreters like prophet Joseph
Are now part of biblical human history
All in all, dreamland's fascination
for extra-ordinary exaggeration
and tall-tale imagination
Where myth and legend come to life
An amalgam of fiction or real strife
Where assorted monsters of the mind
reign supreme in that REM sleep of our kind.
Yet on the other hand the wishful, wistful sweet sweet dreams
where fantasies form mirages bordered by fanciful seams.
Where castles in the air that humans build, float gently down to earth
only to shoot back up unto nowhere from the awakened one's berth.
In dreamland a pauper girl can be a princess or fairy fair
for daydreams extend into the night and linger on there.
A quote I took to heart and it to console all and sundry
'that if your sweet dreams don't come true, don't you fret
for atleast your nightmares didn't come true either,
so just heave a sigh, by and by.
Every night let us all just fly away and escape
And lo behold the extraordinary world of Dreamscape
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 7:02 AM UTC
A cider and a minder
Passing time as a reminder
Pink glow and songs flow
A waxy time erodes the mow
Renegades and perspiration responds
Swimming in winded seas of Jordan
Heated in space, evicted in their pace
Libido fails as the liquor dilutes in taste
Catch an esse as the moonlight smite
Hold another to fake a romantic right
Filter to the cards of ace as the one winks
Emotive intruders farm in fields of pastures
Imbued with alcoholic waterfalls
Molehills of termites condense lose soil
A lack of connection a taunt that apes
Future anthems triumph in hungered strums
Amused by the music erupting volcanoes
A morrow blows as the candle slows
To tow the tall grassed disused straw
A spring to summer that promises sun rays
A resolve to moderation to preserve modesty
A kiss stored forever peeping the awing stars
To guard a heart and hatch uniformity
Trembles justly forgotten in termed premises
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 2:42 PM UTC
I told you not to worry, everything’s alright.
I’m here, watching raindrops trickle down the window pane,
Making mountains out of molehills, hidden only by the night.
Upon Primrose Hill, the city in sight,
I’d live this moment again, and again.
I told you not to worry, everything’s alright.
I fear sometimes that all you see is a glowing red light,
You’ll notice and whisper ‘don’t worry, fear is my domain’.
Making mountains out of molehills, hidden only by the night.
We’re two magpies that come together in flight.
Your incandescent heart is a match for my incandescent veins,
I told you not to worry. Everything’s alright.
My words sometimes stutter, a sort of stage fright
That sets in from my stomach through to my brain.
Making mountains out of molehills, hidden only by the night.
Under this blanket of stars, darling, sleep tight.
This feeling I hold shall not wane.
I told you not to worry, everything’s alright;
(We’re just) making mountains out of molehills, hidden only by the night.
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 11:40 AM UTC
I've always aspired to be a little bit of everything
Try everything once, give everyone a second chance
I dreamt of making mountains from milwaukee's molehills
And find prosperity and pleasure in the potholes
Ask not what your city can do for you but what you can do for your city
And I'll give my city a little bit of everything
Befriend a little bit of everyone
Some see my city as small, but it gives birth to such big dreams such high hopes
A state that has given birth to my state of creativity
A city that has certified that anything can happen
At any second
My city is a little bit of everything
Dangerous like the streets as the numbers get lower
Rambunctious like the fireworks at the lakefront on the 3rd of July
Still like the suburbs of Wauwatosa all the way to Muskego
Freezing like Madison mid January
Scorching like the city during summertime
My city has made me as
Poetic as Maya Angelou
Brave as Martin Luther King
Intelligent as Thurgood Marshall
Soulful as that lady that sung the blues
**** as Dorothy Dandridge in her red dress
Delicate as Diana before she met the Wiz
Quiet as Celie
Sweet as Suga
Arrogant as Ali
Humble as Halle
Milwaukee, the city that made my dreams.
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 3:13 PM UTC
So much locked within bubbling at the surface
Pinholes of strain attempt to release pressure
Its immensity can't be touched by a million such holes
Desire to discard the cloak grows with every breath
But the fear of being unveiled and naked prevents it
As the molehills burn and the fires are extinguished
Mountains emerge in silence, born of the forgotten ashes
Smoldering embers give rise to the unfathomable
Gargantuan by comparison and seemingly unstoppable
Can such enormity be reigned in,
Or will trying be a harsh lesson in futility?
Never give up or knowing when to do so
Holding tightly or letting go
To analyze or forget
No clear cut paths in the forest of self-destruction
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 7:40 PM UTC
highways and byways
rivers and streams
molehills and mountains
hopes and dreams
cry, hopeless woman with desperate voice
fly, sweet freedom and blessed choice
love, loveless loser of selfish means
above, dove-less skies are so unclean
highways and byways
rivers and streams
molehills and mountains
hopes and dreams
grieve, gentle child with much remorse
leave, grievous man without recourse
shout, silent heart with much to say
about, hordes of hollow heroes lay
highways and byways
rivers and streams
molehills and mountains
hopes and dreams
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 10:18 PM UTC
hope crumbles like
leaves in the fall
It seeps from emerald and orange-brown, the
show of coral in the Caribbean Sea.
Melancholy gathers in the veins of the fisherman
taking a **** off the seashore.
He, as many, put lead arms over the sea. Twin
suns intertwined, produce solar flares of
sea-blue and scarlet changing the air.
Too bright ----
Ruby and sapphire pour through pores
like oxidized blood flowing from an open wound.
Four black mountains,
molehills---
depends on who names them.
Blue-green the sea washes back unto itself
carrying away drift wood as
happiness carries sadness with heavy hands.
Oct 15, 2010
Oct 15, 2010 at 1:07 PM UTC
I have quite a simple request, I believe
I just seek the slightest of reassurance
With the smallest amount of attention that could be given
I do not desire much
Not temporally, not monetarily
I simply wish for the bare minimum
The very smallest amount
I would be more than willing for it
I would take the smallest amount of attention
A mere decimal of your precious time
I wouldn't complain
I wouldn't argue
I wouldn't do anything beyond show gratitude....
It is clear that the bare minimum is simply too much to ask
So why won't you just tell me this?
Why do you promise "always"
When the actions yield a "sometimes"
Why do you dream of mountains but stay on the molehills?
Why do you act as though your world is coming to an end, when it has only just begun?
Why do you hide away in your abode, cooped up with your electronic plaything
The stupid, minuscule electric computers
That are running our lives, and our communication skills into the ground
And why do you tell me to trust what cannot be trusted?
Why do you forgo honesty; because you
Wish not to hurt my feelings?
The disconnect hurts much more than any truth ever could
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 2:54 AM UTC
I wait for the crashing fight.
for the tire screech,
the door slam-
for the lava words
that roll magnificent red from my tongue
and slowly drip ashen black onto the wooden floor between us.
I wait for the broken flute,
tiny bubbles, tiny dreams-
all absorbed by Berber Carpet
and mailbox stuffed
with molehills of mountains.
I wait for the heaving pressures
that blow things upwards,
that blow things inwards.
That makes canyons
and mushrooms
I wait for the fury that turns my eyes
cast with doubt, cast with coal dust.
my lungs puffed with indignation-
so little room to breathe
that I am high from venom.
I wait for the disgust to
wrap around me like a Sunday School wrap-skirt
colorful and gay,
and dropped to the floor without
consideration.
I wait for the hate to be early.
with hope already so foolishly spent on each other,
with faith so carelessly blown away
riding in invisible
paper airplanes-
such are the kisses sent across busy roads.
Waste, waste all these desires of the mundane
when lust drives
outside forces divide,
heat and sinner unite us
and I wait,
I do.
I wait for it to pass.
So as to get to the stuff a day beyond the splintered wood
past the love,
past the lush.
past the lace on my forehead.
I wait for it all to past so as to get myself wholly to you.
For it is not the very last of days
I wait to spend with you,
It is the very all of days I wait to spend with you.
Sahn 3/16/15
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 12:02 AM UTC
Love you! With an exclamation mark; like it’s far away.
Distant with the things I do and the things I say.
Squandering my time; gone with the wind. A decay.
Every day is the same thing on replay.
I’m awake and I’m caked in
a place where I’ve grown.
Where fights became earthquakes,
the same place I call home.
Molehills became mountains,
and the trees became gallows.
My personality weakened,
and all that was left there was shallow.
A proper diagnosis,
That says I’ll be addicted or dead.
It only took a lifetime of neurosis,
And a psychiatric ward bed.
To be molded by your worst traits,
To be malleable by the bad.
To shatter under the worst.
To be battered and sad.
Aug 24, 2020
Aug 24, 2020 at 5:47 PM UTC
They told me.
Told me this is right.
I never thought to disagree.
Until we began falling from this lofty height.
I don't know how we got here.
Or where to go.
I can't tell you why my pulse is racing.
While my breathings slow.
I think this has been some sort of accident.
The kind you drive by really slow.
Never has the air between us been less passionate.
You smile, but all I see is the anger just below.
I've watched this love wax.
I don't think I can stand it to wane.
I try to hold harder the more this retracts.
Stuck in this whirring profoundness I can't explain.
I want to stop, but again and again it's all deja vu.
We are surrounded by moutains and molehills.
Perpetually waiting for the other to come through.
Held to some truth that constantly self fufills.
Yet, I just can't bring myself to leave us behind.
I cling, I fight, I pray, I hope, I wail.
because love is patient, love is kind...
They told me love will never fail.
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 3:37 AM UTC
Yes, I often sit and think about all the times
I was wrong.
And I wonder if you think about them as often
As I do.
It seems that I make mountains
Out of molehills.
All my lovers have told me
Silently.
I fear that I feel everything
So deeply
That I can hardly make the distinction
Between them.
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
Have you ever had one of those moments?
You know, like;
when before you can begin to get a sentence in, you see the other person's eyes roll.
when words of wisdom sound arrogant and cynical.
when you know you're being far too critical.
when your obnoxiously focused on the most simple wrinkle.
when your little issues seem to flip to psychosis and drive you mental.
when your own thoughts threaten to send you to a hospital.
when tomorrow feels like just another obstacle.
Those moments when breathing feels impossible
When contemplating turns suicidal
And dreaming becomes unbearable
That special moment when it sets in that this doesn't feel like living,
This feels more like survival
No?
You've never had that feeling of being out of control,
Lost in a downward spiral?
Where you swear,
This mountain used to be a molehill...
®2024
Jun 13, 2024
Jun 13, 2024 at 7:40 PM UTC
I'm walking in a field with green grass and pretty white flowers. The air is fresh and a cold breeze comes carrying the sound of birds singing. The sun is shining in the middle of the cloudless sky, so I squint my eyes. Wandering around in my own thoughts I find myself lost. I walk trough a shrubbery, with thorns and branches sticking out everywhere. As I walk my way trough I tumble down on my knees. I stand up with bruised knees and hands, realizing that I'm on the other side of the shrubbery, where the grass is gone. Only soil and molehills. The sun is hidden behind gray clouds and black shadows are circling around. A shadow comes dashing towards me. It lands right in front of my feet. It looks up at me with it's glistening red eyes. There's something so familiar, so tempting about it as it says the words:
welcome back home.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 4:33 PM UTC
Gang **** wars. famines.
iPad screen a shield between
news of death
and your life.
around, around, around we
go, tripping over molehills,
ignoring mountains where
diamonds and silver
lay as common as dirt
at the top.
this train is heading in painful
directions, but it would
tickle too much if we stop.
so we don't.
*I won't give up my wi-fi
to save every child in a village
I've never even heard of.*
we all say it. inaudibly.
too many of us aboard,
but the water is lovely.
would someone -anyone- please,
please rock
this
boat.
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
the world never fell out from under you, no
you constructed safety nets like trampolines because you were always paranoid about the end of the world and since i was your world you wondered about the end of me
but i don't think you thought very hard about the end of you
the one that got tangled in dreams bigger than yourself; the ones that validated you and made you feel you had something worth struggling for, a rope on your back to secure your insecurities as you scaled the molehills you made out of mountains
did you ever think about the girl who had nothing to prove
the girl who showed you everything and for some reason that made you the bigger person
it's just that-
i was peanut butter and you were two years old
i guess your mom never told you how to grow up and decide if you had phobias or allergies
because i wouldn't have minded the way the hives erupted across your face like volcanoes without a cause
i would've rubbed your back with chamomile lotion and tried to read your sores like braille--
but i was peanut butter
and you were two years old
and i guess your mom never told you how to grow up and decide if you had a peanut allergy or commitment issues
(perhaps you had both)
perhaps you were so scared of the reaction you would have to someone who would lace your veins with her own blood if you needed, someone who was so willing to hand over her perplexities and let you examine them like a rubik's cube- is that what i was
because i always made it perfectly clear that i loved you
because i don't like seeing you sore and angry like that
i hate the way i hear your bones sigh when you move
the sticks and stones were never really a problem for you
but i think the burdens of my words broke you a little
the words that always made it perfectly clear that i loved you and
i guess you would always ask why but i always thought that some questions don't need an answer
and the only thing i could think of was that if people really are dust like the Bible says, then i was a molehill and you were a mountain
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 1:56 AM UTC
Mistakes become badges
You wear on your sleeve
Preaching "humility!" "kindness!"
Things you have learned the hard way
We stumble, and fall
To only sometimes get up
And walk away from the rubble
That is the monument to the past
We must remember that waves
Are just parts of the largeness
Of the grandness
Of the ocean
And that all things
Are caused by other happenings
That are caused by other instances
That weren't out to get you
We are all the same
In that we are all different
In that we are all struggling
Towards a mountain's peak
What I wish I was taught
Years and years ago
(Or maybe it's just something
I wished I listened to in the first place)
Is that there is no mountain peak
That what really brings all of the everythings of wishes
Is recognizing the wind that rustles a leaf
On a struggling plant on the bottom of a forest
That the insignificance is the importance
That the smallness is really overwhelming
In meaning and truth
When we notice the path we are taking, we find the answer to ourselves:
Always mistakenly thinking it lead to a mountain of happiness,
But realizing it's really a road of joy we've been on the whole time.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 7:20 AM UTC
You can say whatever you want
But that doesn't mean it's true
I suppose if the roles were reversed
I would have trouble admitting it too
Of course your memory differs
No two perspectives are the same
It was many years ago
So you are not to blame
But what you said weighed much more
On my ears than your own
I am not trying to make mountains out of molehills
My recollection is not overblown
It feels like it was yesterday
That those careless words left your lips
Even speaking them aloud now
Still stabs my self-esteem and rips
"With the way you are you deserve to die"
I am not making it up like you think
I did not misunderstand you
You didn't even stutter or blink
You did not say "You are gonna die"
Although I am sure that's what you meant
To summarize
I had it coming
That was pretty much the extent
You apologized right after
Realizing you were wrong
But the damage was already inflicted
Statement a little too strong
What hurts the most is you are honest
And only say things you truly believe
But when I analyze it you are correct
I beckon death with a push of my sleeve
So denial may have you fooled
But I can't forget what you said
And no matter how much I wish it wasn't so
Your comment will always remain in my head
Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 2:33 PM UTC
I raised a brow at the mountain
how it decided to subside
to a crater, and envelop some massive alien craft;
a forest carved into a god-bird
From my cot and window I
saw the aftermath of the crash
the quilted wings in wreckage of red
and green flipping in the wind
like the blankets of some great tribe
tangled in the mountainside
pinned with splintered rock and splintered pines
and flags of feathers surrendering
the woodworked flying machine
to the mountain
and to me.
I climbed to meet the behemoth
And felt that underneath
there was something to be grieved
there was something to be seen
but circles of the people,
who I call friends by obligation
came with quarrels as flat as spades
and were already building up molehills
on top the wooden bones
And soon then I was told
if it fell out of the sky
it was never meant to fly.
and soon the scraps were salvaged
and cut into furniture for the TV
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 6:39 AM UTC
i never did listen to the first words you ever said to me, i was just fixated on your lips and i wish i could remember. i keep wracking my brain because maybe if i remember them we can start all over again and it wouldn’t be the way it is now. maybe if i remember our story retells and i can relive the last 2 years 3 months of my life with an embrace tighter than the moon’s gravitational pull of the tide.
i swear things were never meant to be this way, see, i went to a fortune teller and she said that i’d meet someone who dances with two left feet and you dance with two left feet and a walking stick; you’re not good, at all, but you tried for me and the fortune teller said that it was supposed to last so i’m not sure why i’m sat here in a pool of your love letters trying to find hints of what went wrong. i’m looking for grazes, cuts, scratches, molehills.
i always got told you weren’t good for me anyway and it’s probably better that it happened like this and we’re only young and there’s so many more people in the world i’ve yet to meet but i don’t want to meet people if every trait they possess isn’t yours and i don’t want to meet people if their hair doesn’t fall the same way and i don’t want to meet people whose front tooth doesn’t cower in slightly and i don’t want to meet people if their favourite food is noodles when you hated noodles.
you were good for me because you made me think and i thought about construction and how things are built and how a fire can burn it to the ground because nothing is more powerful than nature itself. i think maybe we were a house but i keep hoping we’re fire and i’ll set fire to the thorns stabbing my heart and it’ll all be on fire everything will be on fire and it’ll be dangerous and exciting, like you and it most likely won’t be good for me but at least it’ll be ******* pretty. i want to hold your hand as my heart bolts out of my chest and melts into a drain outside your house.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
The simplicity I'm searching for
Hides beneath my fingernails
Occupies the dark spaces I refuse to frequent
Consumes the sweet fumes I forget to swallow
I've been told I overthink things
It has never been about mountains or molehills
I always see land big enough for shelter
I do not need reasons
This is what worries me
I hesitate all the time
Then I think I know
Then I know I know
Then I see you in public and you're laughing
And I can't tell if you're laughing at me
So I smile
Not because I want to
But because I think you want me to
And suddenly I don't know anymore
But I wonder if everyone else knows
Or if you know
Then I'm back beneath the mountain
Or the molehill
And I don't give a **** about this land anymore
I just want to see you
walk to the highest peak and shout your name
And watch the echos vibrate off my chest
This is what worries me most
What I need
Is the courage to say exactly what I intend
Believe I already own this certainty
Live within the in between
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 1:51 AM UTC
DISINHIBITOR” By Ariana Reines
<>
There’s a sadness I’m avoiding
It’s why I live like this
The truth is I know I can’t hide
From it. I know I can’t
But I can hide from you
Or I somehow still think I can
& what that really means is hide it
From you. It’s not that I don’t trust
You. I’m just scared to lose
It. I’m not avoiding
My sadness I’m trying
To protect it. What I lost
I already lost a really
Long time ago. Whatever
I tried to do apart
From what I lost had more
To do with covering it
With probably some kind
Of monument than “moving on”
But I’m the only one who needs
To know that it’s a monument
Or what it’s for. Anthills
Mountains out of molehills.
Growing a roughness into
A jewel: Aphrodite’s secret.
I am ignorant of my people’s
History but I have seen the scrolls
In their crowns and gowns.
The times I won I wasn’t able
To celebrate. So I learned equanimity
But equanimity’s as tricky
As any other state. These may
Not be words of wisdom
But they’ve got no other
Place to live
Dec 17, 2023
Dec 17, 2023 at 5:54 PM UTC
let us speak in tones, hushed,
of mountains and molehills.
benchmarked by
tape measures,
underscored, with concerned apprehension.
for now it is time,
to masticate the elephant
and the roaring lion too.
with silver plated forks and knifes undulled with use.
slap down your grievance on the noritake dinnerware
and partition the proportion, dissect the angst,
and delicately place the rage, between your bloodless lips.
to sit,
ashlike on your scathing tongue.
we will drink,
your aged bitterbile wine,
in leaden crystal goblets.
smile at your witticisms,
however,
humdrum and malign.
and when the elephant,
is but ivory and leather.
and the king of beasts,
but a tattered rug,
upon your floor.
we shall cry jubilee, jubilee,
cry freedom.
our indenture is done.
emancipation now has come.
and we will run, we will run.
it is then,
we will be,
looking at life,
with kaleidescope eyes.
fitted with lenses of love, joy, and liberty, crystalized within.
we will be,
dancing the fandango,
with robust, rebellious gusto
and singing glory, hallelujah riffs.
and o' there will be laughter
and big broad smiles.
and o' there will be hugging
and much comfort shared.
and the door will be open,
for anyone to come sit
and chatter on for a while.
heaven on earth,
heaven on earth.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 7:19 AM UTC