"nonstop" poems - Hello Poetry

"nonstop" poems

Nonstop, all day. You are aware a gamer's dark side, not when they play, but when they've died. Can't stop, no way. They do curse and yell, not at what the other team say, but when their own team fell. I tank, you heal. Noobs **** and everyone knows, no need to make a big deal, even if some player blows. You **** stealed me! How dare you take my guy! He hacks I see! How else could he fly!? All I want to hear are 'dings!' but not with this team. These are the many things, A gamer may scream.

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Nov 16, 2013

Nov 16, 2013 at 5:14 AM UTC

Nonstop, all day. You are aware a gamer's dark side, not when they play, but when they've died. Can't stop, no way. They do curse and yell, not at what the other team say, but when their own team fell. I tank, you heal. Noobs **** and everyone knows, no need to make a big deal, even if some player blows. You **** stealed me! How dare you take my guy! He hacks I see! How else could he fly!? All I want to hear are 'dings!' but not with this team. These are the many things, A gamer may scream.

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On a hot hot day nothing better than sweet sticky rice coconut milk a big ripe mango That, I felt, was what the fly thought he touched down onto my mango, it was so sweet, pouring saccharine sweat ripe slabs of yellow smorgasborg endless pleasure of sugar mango flesh it seemed good to the fly Across the water, pressing over the mountains, opaque threads of rain, like slim tornadoes twisting ash into the clouds moved this way things never looked good for the fly He ate nonstop, boozed up on mango an unlimited supply of yellow stuff he gained weight by the second there was no point in stopping the more juice the mango sweat the stickier its meat the more mango the drunk fly ate, the further he sank into its flesh he was stuck, flailed his stupid legs in the air as if more flies coming would rather help him than eat juicy golden mango feast he died there, I think the monsoon would make sure of it I tossed the mango, sticky rice the styrofoam plate thinking it spoiled, fearing the rain

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May 3, 2011

May 3, 2011 at 3:58 AM UTC

What the Fly Thought

On a hot hot day nothing better than sweet sticky rice coconut milk a big ripe mango That, I felt, was what the fly thought he touched down onto my mango, it was so sweet, pouring saccharine sweat ripe slabs of yellow smorgasborg endless pleasure of sugar mango flesh it seemed good to the fly Across the water, pressing over the mountains, opaque threads of rain, like slim tornadoes twisting ash into the clouds moved this way things never looked good for the fly He ate nonstop, boozed up on mango an unlimited supply of yellow stuff he gained weight by the second there was no point in stopping the more juice the mango sweat the stickier its meat the more mango the drunk fly ate, the further he sank into its flesh he was stuck, flailed his stupid legs in the air as if more flies coming would rather help him than eat juicy golden mango feast he died there, I think the monsoon would make sure of it I tossed the mango, sticky rice the styrofoam plate thinking it spoiled, fearing the rain

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You told me you loved me, You lied to my face. You stole my heart, And put it in a case. You locked it away, So far away. You own it, you stole it, It can't run away. You told me you loved me,, You lied to my face. You closed my mouth, Just incase. You told me not to tell anyone, You made me promise. You made me quiet, I still broke that promise. You told me you loved me, You lied to my face. You stole my mind, and entrapped it away. You bruised me, You hurt me. This isn't the way. Why did you have to Do it anyway? You told me you loved me, You lied to them. You put on a smile, And a façade. They believed you, And threw my words away. You told me you loved me, You still lied to the rest. I knew you were lying, This wasn't what was best. You lied, you pried, You said you wouldn't do it again. I cried, and cried, You still inflicted the pain. You told me you loved me, You lied to yourself. You said you were sorry, But that couldn't help. Stop, oh stop, You did it, nonstop. You hit, you bit, I just wasn't enough. You told me you loved me, You lied, oh you ******* lied! You could never love, With your demons inside.

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Jun 23, 2018

Jun 23, 2018 at 9:16 AM UTC

You Told Me You Loved Me. You Lied

You told me you loved me, You lied to my face. You stole my heart, And put it in a case. You locked it away, So far away. You own it, you stole it, It can't run away. You told me you loved me,, You lied to my face. You closed my mouth, Just incase. You told me not to tell anyone, You made me promise. You made me quiet, I still broke that promise. You told me you loved me, You lied to my face. You stole my mind, and entrapped it away. You bruised me, You hurt me. This isn't the way. Why did you have to Do it anyway? You told me you loved me, You lied to them. You put on a smile, And a façade. They believed you, And threw my words away. You told me you loved me, You still lied to the rest. I knew you were lying, This wasn't what was best. You lied, you pried, You said you wouldn't do it again. I cried, and cried, You still inflicted the pain. You told me you loved me, You lied to yourself. You said you were sorry, But that couldn't help. Stop, oh stop, You did it, nonstop. You hit, you bit, I just wasn't enough. You told me you loved me, You lied, oh you ******* lied! You could never love, With your demons inside.

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Crushed to death under falling leaves Drowned by torrential rain scorched by sun, and fades away, and never speaks again the sober simply sickening sapping all my electricity the waking under midday light’s reflecting off the mirror tiles I placed this all beneath me but it always ******* backfires Crushed under a thousand falling leaves Drowned by a million drops of acid rain scorched by the sun and fades away, and never ever speaks again Shining black, incandescent watermarks that line the present and presently I can perceive a personage, just above me It speaks nonstop and slowly and never ever ******* leaves Crushed under a thousand falling leaves Drowned by a million drops of acid rain scorched by the sun and fades away, and never ever speaks again crushed to death and fades away autumn leaves became a grave drowned by rain never speaks again the undertow of passing waves the autumn leaves became a grave the undertow of passing waves.

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Sep 2, 2014

Sep 2, 2014 at 11:47 PM UTC

Crushed to death under falling leaves Drowned by torrential rain scorched by sun, and fades away, and never speaks again the sober simply sickening sapping all my electricity the waking under midday light’s reflecting off the mirror tiles I placed this all beneath me but it always ******* backfires Crushed under a thousand falling leaves Drowned by a million drops of acid rain scorched by the sun and fades away, and never ever speaks again Shining black, incandescent watermarks that line the present and presently I can perceive a personage, just above me It speaks nonstop and slowly and never ever ******* leaves Crushed under a thousand falling leaves Drowned by a million drops of acid rain scorched by the sun and fades away, and never ever speaks again crushed to death and fades away autumn leaves became a grave drowned by rain never speaks again the undertow of passing waves the autumn leaves became a grave the undertow of passing waves.

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When they get to the aquarium, the kid asks if they have a Great White shark exhibit. The volunteer says no, we don’t. The kid asks, “Why? are you afraid he might try to eat people?” The volunteer chuckles at this and tells him no. no aquarium has successfully held a Great White shark live for more than a few days. You see, in order to stay alive, Great Whites and other sharks, like hammerheads, swim on their own continuously through the ocean, never stopping, never slowing, tramping a perpetual journey with many miles to go before they finally reach “sleep”. If they stop, the oxygen rich water around them no longer flows over their gills and into their bodies and they suffocate from the strain of being at rest. So they keep going, like lost children searching for their parents in a very large amusement park. This need to keep moving, this need for space, has made it extremely difficult to keep them in our meager glass human death cages. When the Monterey bay aquarium managed to capture a juvenile that didn’t thrash itself to death like the adult sharks they netted before, it bashed its head against the tank’s sturdy walls until the shock of being dragged out of its home and put in the equivalent of a coffin killed it. But, the volunteer continued cheerfully, we have other kinds of sharks here. We have zebra sharks, which don’t need to swim nonstop. In their natural habitat, they just lie on the ocean floor all day. The kid agrees to go see them The zebra sharks are not lying on the floor nor do they look like zebras. They swim slowly past him, leopard spots dotting their ridges on their backs, their fins, their long tails. “They’re called zebra sharks because of the zebra like patterns of the juveniles,” the volunteer explains. The ones we have here are adults.When they become adults, they get the spots and those ridges you see. Sometimes people mistake them for leopard sharks, which are a totally different species.” The kid stares at the zebra sharks for a full ten minutes, looking for a sign of resignation at being called something they weren’t anymore, at collectively being referred to by a childhood nickname they had long outgrown. They did not seem to care. He gets bored and goes to other exhibits, the split fin flashlight fish blinking on and off in their darkened tank, the touch pool, the medusa jellyfish with their trailing tentacles. But the sharks are what he remembers when he leaves, and they’re what he remember when he returns three months later, six months later, two years later, three, five, ten, this is what stays with him, the sharks in our tanks and the sharks in the ocean.

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Jun 16, 2017

Jun 16, 2017 at 2:20 AM UTC

At the aquarium.

When they get to the aquarium, the kid asks if they have a Great White shark exhibit. The volunteer says no, we don’t. The kid asks, “Why? are you afraid he might try to eat people?” The volunteer chuckles at this and tells him no. no aquarium has successfully held a Great White shark live for more than a few days. You see, in order to stay alive, Great Whites and other sharks, like hammerheads, swim on their own continuously through the ocean, never stopping, never slowing, tramping a perpetual journey with many miles to go before they finally reach “sleep”. If they stop, the oxygen rich water around them no longer flows over their gills and into their bodies and they suffocate from the strain of being at rest. So they keep going, like lost children searching for their parents in a very large amusement park. This need to keep moving, this need for space, has made it extremely difficult to keep them in our meager glass human death cages. When the Monterey bay aquarium managed to capture a juvenile that didn’t thrash itself to death like the adult sharks they netted before, it bashed its head against the tank’s sturdy walls until the shock of being dragged out of its home and put in the equivalent of a coffin killed it. But, the volunteer continued cheerfully, we have other kinds of sharks here. We have zebra sharks, which don’t need to swim nonstop. In their natural habitat, they just lie on the ocean floor all day. The kid agrees to go see them The zebra sharks are not lying on the floor nor do they look like zebras. They swim slowly past him, leopard spots dotting their ridges on their backs, their fins, their long tails. “They’re called zebra sharks because of the zebra like patterns of the juveniles,” the volunteer explains. The ones we have here are adults.When they become adults, they get the spots and those ridges you see. Sometimes people mistake them for leopard sharks, which are a totally different species.” The kid stares at the zebra sharks for a full ten minutes, looking for a sign of resignation at being called something they weren’t anymore, at collectively being referred to by a childhood nickname they had long outgrown. They did not seem to care. He gets bored and goes to other exhibits, the split fin flashlight fish blinking on and off in their darkened tank, the touch pool, the medusa jellyfish with their trailing tentacles. But the sharks are what he remembers when he leaves, and they’re what he remember when he returns three months later, six months later, two years later, three, five, ten, this is what stays with him, the sharks in our tanks and the sharks in the ocean.

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The singing of phones cut midway The conversations that flow exactly after The unnoticed change from night to day The difference in context of everything that mattered Now there was... The silence of phones that used to ring nonstop The ringing of phones currently unanswered The mornings when it's impossible to get up The middays wherein silence is heard The nights when it's impossible to sleep The midnights when eyes won't even blink The day breaks that slowly creep The dawns that felt like the sun was going to sink The dusks wherein the rain poured The fading daylight which was warmly gazed upon The darkness of a nightfall which enveloped that unspoken word The gust of air that continues changing from here on The burning of letters that should have existed And The writing of letters that no longer exist

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Apr 6, 2016

Apr 6, 2016 at 5:43 AM UTC

The singing of phones cut midway The conversations that flow exactly after The unnoticed change from night to day The difference in context of everything that mattered Now there was... The silence of phones that used to ring nonstop The ringing of phones currently unanswered The mornings when it's impossible to get up The middays wherein silence is heard The nights when it's impossible to sleep The midnights when eyes won't even blink The day breaks that slowly creep The dawns that felt like the sun was going to sink The dusks wherein the rain poured The fading daylight which was warmly gazed upon The darkness of a nightfall which enveloped that unspoken word The gust of air that continues changing from here on The burning of letters that should have existed And The writing of letters that no longer exist

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God was tired that day After all Six days shalt thou labour And on the seventh Shalt thou rest And he'd be slaving away For eighteen days nonstop Mainly because of the offer of Double overtime Had proven irresistible. He'd written out these great rules On how to live, All eleven of them. And God yelled out: *"Oy Moses, you fat bearded *** I got some tablets of stone for you So move your ******* kosher **** And Moses came out of the pub And picked up the first ten But, being a bit the worse for wear, And nine sheets to the wind With cut-price passover wine, He never noticed the eleventh one: *"Never accept a personal cheque Without a bank guarantee card"* Is what it said, And you can't argue with that No ******* way.

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May 2, 2015

May 2, 2015 at 8:17 AM UTC

The Eleventh Commandment

God was tired that day After all Six days shalt thou labour And on the seventh Shalt thou rest And he'd be slaving away For eighteen days nonstop Mainly because of the offer of Double overtime Had proven irresistible. He'd written out these great rules On how to live, All eleven of them. And God yelled out: *"Oy Moses, you fat bearded *** I got some tablets of stone for you So move your ******* kosher **** And Moses came out of the pub And picked up the first ten But, being a bit the worse for wear, And nine sheets to the wind With cut-price passover wine, He never noticed the eleventh one: *"Never accept a personal cheque Without a bank guarantee card"* Is what it said, And you can't argue with that No ******* way.

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In a hammock On the eve of final exams There is a scent of caffeine coursed bodies pacing the distances of Starbucks and the library, an unusual sight at eleven at night There is peace In the fraternity- I think begins with a Sigma- running around playing a vicious thirty person game of tag Yeah, I witnessed that wipeout and it was hilarious There is heat condensed around the height of brains Struggling to realize dreams that require Busy work man! It's just like six hours of nonstop busy work The guy on the bench behind me whined out cooling breath of brown leaves There is energy in the fractal jungle above The towering umbrellas of Palm trees which grant me the magic of hovering I see through waving leaves Orion's Belt. The light pollution overpowers his body but he reminds me that there is more in the astral world Ibis scour the ground Some would read the tea leaves that bravest of birds has crossed my path And I will survive the tests that I allow to define possibilities in life There is closure to my left Two girls in a hammock, bodies combined like a turtle in a shell Only they know what goes on inside, and all I witness is the harmony that the trials that students go through that unites

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Aug 7, 2014

Aug 7, 2014 at 6:35 AM UTC

In a Hammock (In Honor of Finals)

In a hammock On the eve of final exams There is a scent of caffeine coursed bodies pacing the distances of Starbucks and the library, an unusual sight at eleven at night There is peace In the fraternity- I think begins with a Sigma- running around playing a vicious thirty person game of tag Yeah, I witnessed that wipeout and it was hilarious There is heat condensed around the height of brains Struggling to realize dreams that require Busy work man! It's just like six hours of nonstop busy work The guy on the bench behind me whined out cooling breath of brown leaves There is energy in the fractal jungle above The towering umbrellas of Palm trees which grant me the magic of hovering I see through waving leaves Orion's Belt. The light pollution overpowers his body but he reminds me that there is more in the astral world Ibis scour the ground Some would read the tea leaves that bravest of birds has crossed my path And I will survive the tests that I allow to define possibilities in life There is closure to my left Two girls in a hammock, bodies combined like a turtle in a shell Only they know what goes on inside, and all I witness is the harmony that the trials that students go through that unites

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She knows she’s young She’s lost her fun In so little years She’s filled with so many fears Her momma scolds Tells her she’s she got no hold She sits and reads Matilda Momma says to go out with her sister She’s told she’s not pretty She says she’s just a kid They tell her without a boyfriend She cannot play with them She loves to Skip She loves her toys She just wants friendship Doesn’t matter with girls or with boys And as sixth grade ends and she’s lost her friends Who are so eager to go and grow up She decides to keep quietly to herself Or else they’ll tell her to shut up She loves being a kid Still wants to play pretend Doesn’t want to worry about makeup Doesn’t want to worry about growth Doesn’t want to style her hair, just wants to keep it short Told she looks like a boy but she likes being different Doesn’t want to be irreverent She still feels like she’s eleven And just wants to keep on shining Wants to keep looking at the world as amazing She doesn’t know what to do She loves a man who’s 22 She knows she is much too young And knows he thinks of her as young and dumb He gives her a smile and walks on by He calls her a “Pop **** and gives her a high five She dreams 10 years going by When she’s allowed to be in his life But she thinks then he’ll have a wife And she’ll just dream of being the lonely bride Will she have another chance Was this her only shot? She wonders what high school will be like Will she be able to have another start? She still wishes to make her mama proud But she just wants a well primed child She couldn’t be a beauty queen And couldn’t dance or sing She just likes to climb trees and read And she still wants that into her teens For this little twelve year old girl Life was a nonstop whirl The days go by too fast She feels pretty soon she’ll be looking her last As all her schoolmates gossip and change She still wants to remain strange She thinks about him everyday And the days remain the same, The same She’s older She’s getting older She’s getting older and she wants to go back She takes old pictures, puts them in order So that she can always look back Copyright © James Black |

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Jan 7, 2017

Jan 7, 2017 at 2:08 PM UTC

12 year old girl

She knows she’s young She’s lost her fun In so little years She’s filled with so many fears Her momma scolds Tells her she’s she got no hold She sits and reads Matilda Momma says to go out with her sister She’s told she’s not pretty She says she’s just a kid They tell her without a boyfriend She cannot play with them She loves to Skip She loves her toys She just wants friendship Doesn’t matter with girls or with boys And as sixth grade ends and she’s lost her friends Who are so eager to go and grow up She decides to keep quietly to herself Or else they’ll tell her to shut up She loves being a kid Still wants to play pretend Doesn’t want to worry about makeup Doesn’t want to worry about growth Doesn’t want to style her hair, just wants to keep it short Told she looks like a boy but she likes being different Doesn’t want to be irreverent She still feels like she’s eleven And just wants to keep on shining Wants to keep looking at the world as amazing She doesn’t know what to do She loves a man who’s 22 She knows she is much too young And knows he thinks of her as young and dumb He gives her a smile and walks on by He calls her a “Pop **** and gives her a high five She dreams 10 years going by When she’s allowed to be in his life But she thinks then he’ll have a wife And she’ll just dream of being the lonely bride Will she have another chance Was this her only shot? She wonders what high school will be like Will she be able to have another start? She still wishes to make her mama proud But she just wants a well primed child She couldn’t be a beauty queen And couldn’t dance or sing She just likes to climb trees and read And she still wants that into her teens For this little twelve year old girl Life was a nonstop whirl The days go by too fast She feels pretty soon she’ll be looking her last As all her schoolmates gossip and change She still wants to remain strange She thinks about him everyday And the days remain the same, The same She’s older She’s getting older She’s getting older and she wants to go back She takes old pictures, puts them in order So that she can always look back Copyright © James Black |

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At the start of the day, I met a boy I didn't know why, but I suddenly felt joy He looked at me in the eye and warmly said hello Not knowing that in the end, I would have to let him go That afternoon, we agreed to stop by a cafe Happily chatting nonstop, while time was slipping away With the mellifluous music in the background, we filled the shop with our laughs Then an epiphany occurred, I realized that I have to keep this memory by taking a few photographs At nightfall, we exchanged numbers and decided to part ways As he went to the opposite direction by walking backwards with his hands swaying as a sign of goodbye, I gazed At that moment as I deeply stared into his eyes, I felt happiness- it was ineffable and little did I know, it was just ephemeral too Because then I knew, my love is never going to come into his view

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Mar 9, 2016

Mar 9, 2016 at 10:23 PM UTC

At the start of the day, I met a boy I didn't know why, but I suddenly felt joy He looked at me in the eye and warmly said hello Not knowing that in the end, I would have to let him go That afternoon, we agreed to stop by a cafe Happily chatting nonstop, while time was slipping away With the mellifluous music in the background, we filled the shop with our laughs Then an epiphany occurred, I realized that I have to keep this memory by taking a few photographs At nightfall, we exchanged numbers and decided to part ways As he went to the opposite direction by walking backwards with his hands swaying as a sign of goodbye, I gazed At that moment as I deeply stared into his eyes, I felt happiness- it was ineffable and little did I know, it was just ephemeral too Because then I knew, my love is never going to come into his view

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*When I was just a little girl I wanted so much for my life to resemble a beautiful secret garden, I'm aware that this may sound crazy and bizzare - if it does, then please do beg my pardon. A secret garden in the woods with such beauty hidden deep within, Full of secret pathways and passages that only special people would know about, fitted with padlocked gates - so not to let any bad people in. Pretty little flowers in vivid colours that please the heart and soul - seen through the eyes of everyone, Butterflies dancing above pristine hills - with hedges making mazes; for a touch of fun. Crimson tree-tops and rose bushes in every beautiful colour ever created, A place that is so unique - from it, no soul could stand to be seperated. Ineffable in its beauty, like a magnet souls are attracted, This secret garden, like a heavenly day dream, in a daze - from it, you cannot be distracted. Whether there was a blue sky, or dark clouds, as a daily rooftop, Love and happiness would be nonstop. A place where loved ones always felt safe and secure, Never wanting to find the secret garden's door. They'd always be free to be themselves, A wish That we all have for ourselves. When I was just a little girl I wanted so much for my life to resemble a beautiful secret garden, Now I'm all grown up, and still trying to bring this aspiration to life; this vision, is one, I am never, ever discarding, I really still want my life to be just like a beautiful secret garden, And if this sounds crazy or bizzare... then, please do beg my pardon! By Lady R.F ©2017*

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Feb 23, 2017

Feb 23, 2017 at 4:24 AM UTC

*When I was just a little girl I wanted so much for my life to resemble a beautiful secret garden, I'm aware that this may sound crazy and bizzare - if it does, then please do beg my pardon. A secret garden in the woods with such beauty hidden deep within, Full of secret pathways and passages that only special people would know about, fitted with padlocked gates - so not to let any bad people in. Pretty little flowers in vivid colours that please the heart and soul - seen through the eyes of everyone, Butterflies dancing above pristine hills - with hedges making mazes; for a touch of fun. Crimson tree-tops and rose bushes in every beautiful colour ever created, A place that is so unique - from it, no soul could stand to be seperated. Ineffable in its beauty, like a magnet souls are attracted, This secret garden, like a heavenly day dream, in a daze - from it, you cannot be distracted. Whether there was a blue sky, or dark clouds, as a daily rooftop, Love and happiness would be nonstop. A place where loved ones always felt safe and secure, Never wanting to find the secret garden's door. They'd always be free to be themselves, A wish That we all have for ourselves. When I was just a little girl I wanted so much for my life to resemble a beautiful secret garden, Now I'm all grown up, and still trying to bring this aspiration to life; this vision, is one, I am never, ever discarding, I really still want my life to be just like a beautiful secret garden, And if this sounds crazy or bizzare... then, please do beg my pardon! By Lady R.F ©2017*

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We never really knew each other. Sure, we texted nonstop. You stared at me in the halls. But missed chances and glances were all we had. We never had a real conversation. (Maybe things would have been different if we did.) All my memories of you consist of my face lit by a bright screen, sitting in the darkness of my bedroom, wishing for you—desperately—at 11:11.

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Jul 29, 2023

Jul 29, 2023 at 2:03 AM UTC

We never really knew each other. Sure, we texted nonstop. You stared at me in the halls. But missed chances and glances were all we had. We never had a real conversation. (Maybe things would have been different if we did.) All my memories of you consist of my face lit by a bright screen, sitting in the darkness of my bedroom, wishing for you—desperately—at 11:11.

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Asking for more Attempting to borrow some time Only to come up empty handed Nonstop addiction Unable to quit the high A feeling to last forever Craving to get one more taste More, more, more

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Aug 22, 2010

Aug 22, 2010 at 6:40 PM UTC

Asking for more Attempting to borrow some time Only to come up empty handed Nonstop addiction Unable to quit the high A feeling to last forever Craving to get one more taste More, more, more

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There’s a dark grotto Under the sea With shelves and shelves Of bottles Clear, glass bottles All of my secrets A carefully watched castle The middle of a concentric series of impassable walls Surrounded by a forest of kelp With razor-sharp teeth And then the narwhals The narwhal guards Armed to the teeth with halibut-slicing knives Their three-meter horns Gleaming in the moonlight Guarding All of my secrets Skeletons, trespassers of yore, Strewn about the seafloor Bones picked clean By the scavenging ***** No one can enter No one can leave The grotto with the shelves Shelves and shelves of clear, glass bottles All of my secrets But as for the ***** For the first time in centuries The sunlight warms the waters Melts the kelp Kisses the narwhals Buries the bones and torments the scavengers Clearing away the darkness A nonstop route through the castle Protecting All of my secrets The tendrils of photons creep along Wary Ready for a fight The grotto growls menacingly Unguarded For the first time in centuries But upon the first touch - Light meets stone - The sea shudders Ecstasy And in repayment for salvation Out come the bottles Floating to the surface Bathing in the light All of my secrets

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May 19, 2010

May 19, 2010 at 3:20 PM UTC

All of My Secrets

There’s a dark grotto Under the sea With shelves and shelves Of bottles Clear, glass bottles All of my secrets A carefully watched castle The middle of a concentric series of impassable walls Surrounded by a forest of kelp With razor-sharp teeth And then the narwhals The narwhal guards Armed to the teeth with halibut-slicing knives Their three-meter horns Gleaming in the moonlight Guarding All of my secrets Skeletons, trespassers of yore, Strewn about the seafloor Bones picked clean By the scavenging ***** No one can enter No one can leave The grotto with the shelves Shelves and shelves of clear, glass bottles All of my secrets But as for the ***** For the first time in centuries The sunlight warms the waters Melts the kelp Kisses the narwhals Buries the bones and torments the scavengers Clearing away the darkness A nonstop route through the castle Protecting All of my secrets The tendrils of photons creep along Wary Ready for a fight The grotto growls menacingly Unguarded For the first time in centuries But upon the first touch - Light meets stone - The sea shudders Ecstasy And in repayment for salvation Out come the bottles Floating to the surface Bathing in the light All of my secrets

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"It's just one cut," said the sharp lady doctor before language melted off her clipboard and the operating lamps grew huge and spilled their bright innards into my eyes. I lay on the cold tiled floor of the museum. One monstrous cut -- the white shark suspended above in a last hungry lunge yawns, belly open. Around me what a wide-eyed fisherman pulled out: old tires, whale-oil lamps, Damien Hirst, bones upon bones. Damien sits on a tire, bored as hell. See the jagged edges, he says, they pulled him into our cold afterlife and cut while he suffocated, explosive oxygen flooding his lungs from the wrong direction. Later, the doctors showed me what had for so long kicked and screamed to be out. Liver-colored, swollen, wrapped in catgut, it was not as expected. Others had promised ground seaglass, poppyseed freckles, huge lungs like fibrous balloons for flying or spouting poetry nonstop in day-long stretches. Where were my eyes? It was supposed to have my eyes.

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May 12, 2010

May 12, 2010 at 7:34 PM UTC

the physical impossibility of death in the mind of someone living

"It's just one cut," said the sharp lady doctor before language melted off her clipboard and the operating lamps grew huge and spilled their bright innards into my eyes. I lay on the cold tiled floor of the museum. One monstrous cut -- the white shark suspended above in a last hungry lunge yawns, belly open. Around me what a wide-eyed fisherman pulled out: old tires, whale-oil lamps, Damien Hirst, bones upon bones. Damien sits on a tire, bored as hell. See the jagged edges, he says, they pulled him into our cold afterlife and cut while he suffocated, explosive oxygen flooding his lungs from the wrong direction. Later, the doctors showed me what had for so long kicked and screamed to be out. Liver-colored, swollen, wrapped in catgut, it was not as expected. Others had promised ground seaglass, poppyseed freckles, huge lungs like fibrous balloons for flying or spouting poetry nonstop in day-long stretches. Where were my eyes? It was supposed to have my eyes.

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Heidi I fell in love with you at the age of 15, and I remember how I rode my bicycle The 4 miles across town almost every day that summer, two and a half years ago How much effort I put in to make the 40 minute ride over, just to come visit you Heidi I remember your friends and they were nice at first, until your best friend Jaina Thought the word ***** was a part of everyday language and I realized She wasn't even good for much except putting people down and going outside to smoke Heidi I remember the stories you told me about them and how you said you felt obligated To take care of them, and that they meant a lot to you, how you loved them For their silly jokes and shenanigans and just the fact that they were ******* badass" Heidi I remember when Jaina, Miles, and David were over one night I came for dinner They just walked in unprompted, and ruined the time we had alone I remember how you all laughed at me when David made a sick joke about my racial makeup Heidi I got up from the table and went to the bathroom to cry that night Not because I had to go to the bathroom but because you replied to his joke by laughing along And you even made another joke saying "But he's our token asian" Heidi I remember sitting next to you on your bed when we would watch movies all evening But I also remember your attitude and the things you called me the whole time "Asian buddy" Heidi I started noticing things about you I hadn't seen before because my love was blind Like how badly you treated people, just like your friends did Like how self-absorbed you were and how quickly you and your friends ego's fell apart When you realized going to the corrupt Art Institutes for art degrees to make art was probably a bad idea Heidi You were having a hard time finding yourself and what you wanted to do with your life Because you'd spent all your time in high school thinking you were on top of everyone I led you on for almost 8 months before I decided enough was enough Heidi I should have left you early on because during those 8 months I tried to change you Talk to my friends, I talked to them nonstop about you and what I should do with you I remember how I only stayed because it wouldn't be fair to you for all the work we put in Heidi I'm sorry I hurt you but you hurt me too and as time went by I realized You weren't even close to someone I wanted to spend any time with You were nothing I could love, a proven *****

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Dec 20, 2013

Dec 20, 2013 at 1:11 AM UTC

Heidi I fell in love with you at the age of 15, and I remember how I rode my bicycle The 4 miles across town almost every day that summer, two and a half years ago How much effort I put in to make the 40 minute ride over, just to come visit you Heidi I remember your friends and they were nice at first, until your best friend Jaina Thought the word ***** was a part of everyday language and I realized She wasn't even good for much except putting people down and going outside to smoke Heidi I remember the stories you told me about them and how you said you felt obligated To take care of them, and that they meant a lot to you, how you loved them For their silly jokes and shenanigans and just the fact that they were ******* badass" Heidi I remember when Jaina, Miles, and David were over one night I came for dinner They just walked in unprompted, and ruined the time we had alone I remember how you all laughed at me when David made a sick joke about my racial makeup Heidi I got up from the table and went to the bathroom to cry that night Not because I had to go to the bathroom but because you replied to his joke by laughing along And you even made another joke saying "But he's our token asian" Heidi I remember sitting next to you on your bed when we would watch movies all evening But I also remember your attitude and the things you called me the whole time "Asian buddy" Heidi I started noticing things about you I hadn't seen before because my love was blind Like how badly you treated people, just like your friends did Like how self-absorbed you were and how quickly you and your friends ego's fell apart When you realized going to the corrupt Art Institutes for art degrees to make art was probably a bad idea Heidi You were having a hard time finding yourself and what you wanted to do with your life Because you'd spent all your time in high school thinking you were on top of everyone I led you on for almost 8 months before I decided enough was enough Heidi I should have left you early on because during those 8 months I tried to change you Talk to my friends, I talked to them nonstop about you and what I should do with you I remember how I only stayed because it wouldn't be fair to you for all the work we put in Heidi I'm sorry I hurt you but you hurt me too and as time went by I realized You weren't even close to someone I wanted to spend any time with You were nothing I could love, a proven *****

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Your love is like a tulip. As you hold me, I feel free from pain; Free from thorns that keep the wounds alive when holding it tight. As you stare at me, you appreciate the natural beauty of me; Beauty that blooms in your sight, a rare beauty which hid on others' eyes. Tulip had withered nonstop, but its fragrant leaves on. While time long past, odorous love of yours remains. Your love is like a tulip. As you smell me, scent reminds memories; That keeps flashing in mind. As the time flies, I sniff the potpourri and your love lingers in the air.

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May 17, 2017

May 17, 2017 at 7:50 AM UTC

Your love is like a tulip. As you hold me, I feel free from pain; Free from thorns that keep the wounds alive when holding it tight. As you stare at me, you appreciate the natural beauty of me; Beauty that blooms in your sight, a rare beauty which hid on others' eyes. Tulip had withered nonstop, but its fragrant leaves on. While time long past, odorous love of yours remains. Your love is like a tulip. As you smell me, scent reminds memories; That keeps flashing in mind. As the time flies, I sniff the potpourri and your love lingers in the air.

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Running into yet another soft eyes and open lips Trying to magically feel something more than what exists Running into yet another guys arms that seem so genuine from afar He really likes me brought me my 3rd drink tonight He's tryna tap that... Intellectual portrait that I have painted of myself Running into yet another false hope of maybe this one is different He can't hurt me unless I allow him to penetrate parts that haven't been discussed This feels so right Running into yet another, "your the most special girl I've met" "wouldn't ever hurt you" line Just to be spoon fed leftovers from the previous drunken night Or the alcohol soaked on a pink moist thick tongue Running into yet another clear dream... (I can see clearer now the rain is gone) Love songs no longer play because he has taken me to a fantasy land from Saturdays night rerun of a previous session Picture perfect perfection precious pleasing. Please don't stop because maybe you have tuned in to the right channel Running into yet another guys lap saying I will dance for you and only you... And maybe him and only him. Because words have become so cliche and I no longer can count how many arms have squeezed me firmly but have released quicker. How many lips have accepted my open invitation to stay the night within How many eyes I have let pierce my soul but to no avail, they get what they want and dissolve. No satisfaction, no guaranteed refunds of that stuff he left with No mental pictures left of what ifs or possibilities of US being more than just lust A must of endless considerations and my ridiculous thoughts of actually Running into the same web of deceit deception. So many descriptions of how I ran away from myself and have been searching nonstop for the right sensation that can stop the temptations and erase the emptiness.

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Dec 11, 2013

Dec 11, 2013 at 2:39 PM UTC

mystical-misery

Running into...

Running into yet another soft eyes and open lips Trying to magically feel something more than what exists Running into yet another guys arms that seem so genuine from afar He really likes me brought me my 3rd drink tonight He's tryna tap that... Intellectual portrait that I have painted of myself Running into yet another false hope of maybe this one is different He can't hurt me unless I allow him to penetrate parts that haven't been discussed This feels so right Running into yet another, "your the most special girl I've met" "wouldn't ever hurt you" line Just to be spoon fed leftovers from the previous drunken night Or the alcohol soaked on a pink moist thick tongue Running into yet another clear dream... (I can see clearer now the rain is gone) Love songs no longer play because he has taken me to a fantasy land from Saturdays night rerun of a previous session Picture perfect perfection precious pleasing. Please don't stop because maybe you have tuned in to the right channel Running into yet another guys lap saying I will dance for you and only you... And maybe him and only him. Because words have become so cliche and I no longer can count how many arms have squeezed me firmly but have released quicker. How many lips have accepted my open invitation to stay the night within How many eyes I have let pierce my soul but to no avail, they get what they want and dissolve. No satisfaction, no guaranteed refunds of that stuff he left with No mental pictures left of what ifs or possibilities of US being more than just lust A must of endless considerations and my ridiculous thoughts of actually Running into the same web of deceit deception. So many descriptions of how I ran away from myself and have been searching nonstop for the right sensation that can stop the temptations and erase the emptiness.

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*Coiled golden serpent, furiously hisses from behind the thicket, hiding mongoose, wakes up from its siesta, gets alert, game of life and death, spying on each other goes on nonstop, death hidden in serpent either surrenders or escapes now and awaits its next chance.*

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Jul 9, 2013

Jul 9, 2013 at 9:41 PM UTC

Like a game of chess

*Coiled golden serpent, furiously hisses from behind the thicket, hiding mongoose, wakes up from its siesta, gets alert, game of life and death, spying on each other goes on nonstop, death hidden in serpent either surrenders or escapes now and awaits its next chance.*

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She is spontaneous poetry, no need to be written, a dam burst of emotions subtle,on what I float along, a whirlwind at an unpredictable time of the season looking for an intimate space to churn and churn and churn. By now, I know this without her even hinting, all her dark clouds will rain in torrents nonstop in to my landscape, sultry, broad and tranquil I am an open sky, a stage ready for changing realities a cloudless calm now in meditative expansiveness, ready to change from dark, cloudy turgidity to it's contrast, white feathery fluff that's dreamy. This time round, when she visited,she did lie naked on my bed supine, looking at me wistfully for a while in my mind's sky beams of morning sun criss- crossed all the nine openings of my body tightly shut, I sat meditating. But I felt her chaotic presence in the energy field spreading, she hurriedly removed her clothes one by one,smiling in the buff she alights on my lap,a butterfly on a flower was her, by and by a sweet heaviness enveloped my ***** in union with hers I hear the primordial boom of the big bang, refining as an "Om" travelling sans any medium it goes outwards to expanding universe. to the 1"Chidakasha" where everything begins and go beyond. Her storm energy, Tantric, seeks alleviation of existential pain, I hear my glowing inner eye whispering in light to the far galaxies, In one form she is so much, past present and future converged, She is 2"Mahatripurasundari", great enchantress of the three worlds. Shakthi, the feminine energy that moves earth, heaven and hell, Kali, the dark energy, seeking sublimation through catharsis. On me she moves like a tortoise deliberately,my nervous system reads, She would defeat the hare and win the laurel, in yogic, trance I discern.

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Nov 18, 2015

Nov 18, 2015 at 12:46 PM UTC

The tortoise, that wins the race, she is.

She is spontaneous poetry, no need to be written, a dam burst of emotions subtle,on what I float along, a whirlwind at an unpredictable time of the season looking for an intimate space to churn and churn and churn. By now, I know this without her even hinting, all her dark clouds will rain in torrents nonstop in to my landscape, sultry, broad and tranquil I am an open sky, a stage ready for changing realities a cloudless calm now in meditative expansiveness, ready to change from dark, cloudy turgidity to it's contrast, white feathery fluff that's dreamy. This time round, when she visited,she did lie naked on my bed supine, looking at me wistfully for a while in my mind's sky beams of morning sun criss- crossed all the nine openings of my body tightly shut, I sat meditating. But I felt her chaotic presence in the energy field spreading, she hurriedly removed her clothes one by one,smiling in the buff she alights on my lap,a butterfly on a flower was her, by and by a sweet heaviness enveloped my ***** in union with hers I hear the primordial boom of the big bang, refining as an "Om" travelling sans any medium it goes outwards to expanding universe. to the 1"Chidakasha" where everything begins and go beyond. Her storm energy, Tantric, seeks alleviation of existential pain, I hear my glowing inner eye whispering in light to the far galaxies, In one form she is so much, past present and future converged, She is 2"Mahatripurasundari", great enchantress of the three worlds. Shakthi, the feminine energy that moves earth, heaven and hell, Kali, the dark energy, seeking sublimation through catharsis. On me she moves like a tortoise deliberately,my nervous system reads, She would defeat the hare and win the laurel, in yogic, trance I discern.

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The night you took it, we were drunk off our ***** It was a mistake. I should have never trusted you. It was the best night of my life, and the worst. I regret it, or maybe I'm just upset that you never called. For you it was just *** For me, it was my first. 18 year build up. You made me feel special and good. All night. All day. Nonstop. Joking. Laughing. Kissing. Cuddling. You took a picture on my phone, You said I was the most beautiful girl. Shouldn't have listened. All the things you said, Been running through my head. Can't stop thinking of you. How can I miss someone I barely know? I don't know. I don't know anything. I thought you would call. You never did. Now all I can think about, are all my imperfections That would make you not want me.

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Aug 7, 2014

Aug 7, 2014 at 2:00 AM UTC

The night you took it, we were drunk off our ***** It was a mistake. I should have never trusted you. It was the best night of my life, and the worst. I regret it, or maybe I'm just upset that you never called. For you it was just *** For me, it was my first. 18 year build up. You made me feel special and good. All night. All day. Nonstop. Joking. Laughing. Kissing. Cuddling. You took a picture on my phone, You said I was the most beautiful girl. Shouldn't have listened. All the things you said, Been running through my head. Can't stop thinking of you. How can I miss someone I barely know? I don't know. I don't know anything. I thought you would call. You never did. Now all I can think about, are all my imperfections That would make you not want me.

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Your control over me is insane. Do you realize that the words you say jiggle round and round my brain, pounding, pounding, tearing at me from within and I can't even begin to make it cease, this tortuous game from which there is no release. pounding, pounding, You really have no clue, do you? how much your words affect me, make me reflect on everything and the effect is nonstop pounding, pounding, causing me to clomp to the brink while struggling, trying not to sink deep into the very emotions you cause by attempting to stop them. The ironic pounding, pounding, of a few words, you have no idea the consequence they bring and suddenly I'm running, bounding, bounding, leaping willingly off the edge.

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May 31, 2014

May 31, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC

Your control over me is insane. Do you realize that the words you say jiggle round and round my brain, pounding, pounding, tearing at me from within and I can't even begin to make it cease, this tortuous game from which there is no release. pounding, pounding, You really have no clue, do you? how much your words affect me, make me reflect on everything and the effect is nonstop pounding, pounding, causing me to clomp to the brink while struggling, trying not to sink deep into the very emotions you cause by attempting to stop them. The ironic pounding, pounding, of a few words, you have no idea the consequence they bring and suddenly I'm running, bounding, bounding, leaping willingly off the edge.

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**Scattered Thunderstorms The radar shows a band of multi-green storms, Parallel running to the East Coast, Stretching from So. Florida to Falmouth, Rhode Island. Path-dependent, the edges skirt my present location, Instrumented, but not weather resistant, Water teases, invites me to a head clearing session. Breezy gusts of overcast, caramel salty bay waters, (weirdly calm), Spray sprites whisper, scattered thunderstorms, starboard side I am the only boat out, especially, The only one going for sure aimlessly, Radar non-discriminatory, stupidity legal, So fools like me go out alone. Scattered Thunderstorms, Unavoidable, summer's favored annoyance of choice. The melancholic platelets budding off my bone's marrow, Forming wondrous clots of sadness, Running strong in the currents of my veins, Downtempo'd, there is no relief for Inside of my radar scanned brain, the scattered thunderstorms, Have arrived much earlier today. What sourced this elegiac distich, Too many poets, fully disclosing their downbeat, aroma of defeat? The world is in a **** mood, not one of us, got nothing Good to say, seems that love storms ripping hearts With no trace of mercy, the radio has elected nonstop Taylor Swift and Jonas Bro's Just to make the point! It is so easy to feel ****** When the sun is unshining, elegant distich, **** me. Thinking back, getting a good idea, Found some long necked Corona overlooked, Turn on the tv, pretend I'm a real cowboy, And for god's sake, shut down poetry, Good Bye Poetry, for the rest of the day Value you more than me, but you've worn me down My blood streams your anguished distress, I cannot survive these scattered revolver-repeating Anguish-Cries-For-Relief from the Thunderstorms, That now having reached, breached, That now, having infected my heart which started This day brow beaten, First poem of the day, already shell-shellacked, Now, I must shut me, batten me, down. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The average lifespan of a platelet is normally just 5 to 9 days. Platelets are a natural source of growth factors. They circulate in the blood of mammals and are involved in hemostasis, leading to the formation of blood clots.

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Jun 30, 2013

Jun 30, 2013 at 2:26 PM UTC

Scattered Thunderstorms: From Your Poetry, Into My Blood...

**Scattered Thunderstorms The radar shows a band of multi-green storms, Parallel running to the East Coast, Stretching from So. Florida to Falmouth, Rhode Island. Path-dependent, the edges skirt my present location, Instrumented, but not weather resistant, Water teases, invites me to a head clearing session. Breezy gusts of overcast, caramel salty bay waters, (weirdly calm), Spray sprites whisper, scattered thunderstorms, starboard side I am the only boat out, especially, The only one going for sure aimlessly, Radar non-discriminatory, stupidity legal, So fools like me go out alone. Scattered Thunderstorms, Unavoidable, summer's favored annoyance of choice. The melancholic platelets budding off my bone's marrow, Forming wondrous clots of sadness, Running strong in the currents of my veins, Downtempo'd, there is no relief for Inside of my radar scanned brain, the scattered thunderstorms, Have arrived much earlier today. What sourced this elegiac distich, Too many poets, fully disclosing their downbeat, aroma of defeat? The world is in a **** mood, not one of us, got nothing Good to say, seems that love storms ripping hearts With no trace of mercy, the radio has elected nonstop Taylor Swift and Jonas Bro's Just to make the point! It is so easy to feel ****** When the sun is unshining, elegant distich, **** me. Thinking back, getting a good idea, Found some long necked Corona overlooked, Turn on the tv, pretend I'm a real cowboy, And for god's sake, shut down poetry, Good Bye Poetry, for the rest of the day Value you more than me, but you've worn me down My blood streams your anguished distress, I cannot survive these scattered revolver-repeating Anguish-Cries-For-Relief from the Thunderstorms, That now having reached, breached, That now, having infected my heart which started This day brow beaten, First poem of the day, already shell-shellacked, Now, I must shut me, batten me, down. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The average lifespan of a platelet is normally just 5 to 9 days. Platelets are a natural source of growth factors. They circulate in the blood of mammals and are involved in hemostasis, leading to the formation of blood clots.

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Brothers! And some sisters too... It’s time! It’s time to step forward And proclaim to the people We love *** We adore *** Don’t be offended It’s just a compliment... I’m an *** man That’s who I am ***** shorts are like Spidey Senses Yoga Pants are letting people know what you haved Sundress Season makes me incoherent I don’t give a **** So many, so little time If you got a big one, you're considered a dime I’m not a rapper But I can rhyme Some call me perverted I call me observant Is that a big crime? When I stand behind her And she grinds on me at the time Don’t trip Y’all do it too Some chicks act like it’s a big taboo It’s really not It's because you’re hot Whoops I forgot, they get told that nonstop But that *** though Make it bounce I want to tap it So juicy So bubbly So yummy On top of that, literally she’s a beauty. Put your hands up like Billy Gunn If you’re like me It’s time To step forward and say I am an *** man

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Apr 26, 2017

Apr 26, 2017 at 6:22 PM UTC

Brothers! And some sisters too... It’s time! It’s time to step forward And proclaim to the people We love *** We adore *** Don’t be offended It’s just a compliment... I’m an *** man That’s who I am ***** shorts are like Spidey Senses Yoga Pants are letting people know what you haved Sundress Season makes me incoherent I don’t give a **** So many, so little time If you got a big one, you're considered a dime I’m not a rapper But I can rhyme Some call me perverted I call me observant Is that a big crime? When I stand behind her And she grinds on me at the time Don’t trip Y’all do it too Some chicks act like it’s a big taboo It’s really not It's because you’re hot Whoops I forgot, they get told that nonstop But that *** though Make it bounce I want to tap it So juicy So bubbly So yummy On top of that, literally she’s a beauty. Put your hands up like Billy Gunn If you’re like me It’s time To step forward and say I am an *** man

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