"obtrusive" poems
Hiding the complex
Through basic reflex
Seeing simple lives
Through diamond eyes
The world falls
And then crumbles
So the time flies
Through diamond eyes
And rain falls
And thunder rolls
The tiny lies
Through diamond eyes
No want to be obtrusive
Need to be reclusive
Seeing quiet sighs
Through diamond eye
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 2:05 PM UTC
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition
Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition
Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition
Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition
Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition
Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues
Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues
Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes
Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews
Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews
Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues
Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous
Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous
Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous
Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous
Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous
Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
Hey
So I'm gay.
Apparently it's everybody's ******* business
While simultaneously being something that
No one talks about.
Oh that's great that your friend's aunt is a lesbian.
You know what we do in bed is sort of private I'd rather not talk about it at the bar.
No, no we don't want a ********* sir please stop asking I'm getting uncomfortable.
Is that normal?
Should it be?
To have questions asked so publicly. So out of line.
So obtrusive.
To have people tell on me as though I broke a vase or pushed my sister.
Oh, no, she's gay. This is my friend, but she's gay. No don't bother, she's gay. Gay gay gay.
I'm gay. Fine. Yes.
I'm not afraid of it.
Please stop giving me reason to be.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 4:19 AM UTC
Caressing my face,
Bubbles rush to greet me
Tickling like a sweet spring sigh.
This is only the first.
I am still half
A visitor. Stuck in suspension
Between this world and mine.
Slowly I pass
Through the threshold.
My air-sick ears adjust
To the sounds of the sea.
I stare down
At the small colony
On the sea floor,
My landing gear is down.
Customs arrives.
A grey, French Angelfish
Of the most industrious kind.
But he isn’t obtrusive.
As he flits in and out
Checking my bubbles
Ensuring I am not bringing
Any more air than I should.
No doubt he will stay near
Most of my stay
I have finally arrived,
The coral city stretches before me.
I catch the current trolley
And it whisks me past
Rocky storefronts and coral motels.
Lobster shopkeeps
Rush out of dark
Stores and stand in the street
Giant claws raised
Toward me in supplication.
Beckoning me to come
And browse his wares
While a fish I don’t know
Is busy cleaning homes and stores.
They must’ve dropped out of the school
Which passes by
The pupils in matching uniforms
Of flashing silver and black.
Clown fish wave
To me from their Lawns
Of sea anemone
Before darting back inside.
Here is the kind of place
Where I could put down roots.
Live out an idyllic life
Living in a coral townhouse.
But for me to stay
Would be severely fatal.
I’m just a visitor
And my visa is about to expire.
I look back one more time
As my head breaks the surface.
The sun stings, I blink.
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 2:07 PM UTC
Cumin queuing
Exchanged by the fiery springs
It flew away blowing
When the chill was as willed as the obtrusive sky
Made of cranes running
Up and down until it is down below the hips.
How one would crave the distinguished dish severely
Whose aroma is everything you have heard singly
The pearl-like freckles beneath its wings
Tastes like heaven-human savagely beating alive
Increasing one's height and appetite.
Oily hands that grip your heart,
Slippery slides of the familiar coconut.
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 11:11 PM UTC
Keeping your hands in your pockets won't keep you warm
in the cold air of a winter night
raging against the warmth of a fire and a place to rest your head
acceptance and satisfaction cracking your lips
The key in a puddle carved like a knife
shattering the icy calm of the little pool
reflecting the thunder clouds above your head
looming like scissors over a barely blooming rosebud
Calamity and discord seems to be your comfort
or are those lies I see glaring in your obtrusive eyes
silence is the last thing you could ever hear
unless it's the cries of a helpless child sighing into the night
Hope never abandoned you
I watched as you burned the unscented candles
the wax waning and the smoke dissapating in contempt
your fingers dancing in the last dip of flame
I watched you disappear into the coming season
observing the ground as you tread
leaving a dull key in that evaporated puddle
the wax molded to your hand and a burn on your palm
Feb 20, 2011
Feb 20, 2011 at 11:50 AM UTC
I've been trying to write something of substance for quite some time now,
trying to collect fresh thoughts from newer moments of you
and rearrange them into phrases that would gift me a new remarkable piece of the puzzle that is the immeasurable complexity of your soul.
I've been trying to bottle up this obtrusive, demanding feeling of utter awe that comes when you and I climb into our honesty and wear it to bed, side-by-side.
I've been trying to backtrack slightly, wishing so desperately (though stoically!) for the return of those painfully dire professions of unadulterated romance, reminiscing in the saturation of your love letters and how the color red is breathed into me time after time to remind me how powerfully you've shifted the balance of my life.
I love you, I love you, by god, do I love you.
My fears are still the same, though, Darling, and I feel that with the redness of passion shall also come a redness of a quality that pertains to homicidal gore,
for you have, still, that scalpel in your hands,
and my heart blooms every moment of my life, not for its love of me, but for the hope that it may one day bloom for the last time cradled in your blood-soaked palms.
I've been trying to say anything else for a week but nothing will break from the gates and give me a solid night's sleep anymore.
I can't tell you how mad you've actually made me.
Though I do dare to hope that I've evoked similar sentiments in you.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 1:49 AM UTC
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition
Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition
Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition
Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition
Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition
Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues
Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues
Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes
Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews
Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews
Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues
Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous
Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous
Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous
Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous
Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous
Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC
It isn't the foe that we fear;
It isn't the bullets that whine;
It isn't the business career
Of a shell, or the bust of a mine;
It isn't the snipers who seek
To nip our young hopes in the bud:
No, it isn't the guns,
And it isn't the Huns --
It's the MUD,
MUD,
MUD.
It isn't the melee we mind.
That often is rather good fun.
It isn't the shrapnel we find
Obtrusive when rained by the ton;
It isn't the bounce of the bombs
That gives us a positive pain:
It's the strafing we get
When the weather is wet --
It's the RAIN,
RAIN,
RAIN.
It isn't because we lack grit
We shrink from the horrors of war.
We don't mind the battle a bit;
In fact that is what we are for;
It isn't the rum-jars and things
Make us wish we were back in the fold:
It's the fingers that freeze
In the boreal breeze --
It's the COLD,
COLD,
COLD.
Oh, the rain, the mud, and the cold,
The cold, the mud, and the rain;
With weather at zero it's hard for a hero
From language that's rude to refrain.
With porridgy muck to the knees,
With sky that's a-pouring a flood,
Sure the worst of our foes
Are the pains and the woes
Of the RAIN,
THE COLD,
AND THE MUD.
2k
Life isn't fair.
*Sometimes it's taking more than it's giving.
Yell for justice, if you want or
dream of somebody saving you,
of someone giving you happiness
like buying it in a shop as a gift.
Get depressed, stay at home,
get isolated, get even more depressed,
get frustrated, get lost,
counting the chances passing by.*
Life isn't complicated.
*It's a complex simplicity, not a simple complexity.
Sometimes you win, sometimes you loose,
a simple truth of life,
you never learn in school from your teachers
or at home from your parents
or by listening to your friends
or watching anybody else.
It's something life tells
occasionally.*
Life isn't serious.
*It tells you a joke almost every day;
a joke so surprisingely good, you will cry for months
a joke so intensely captivating, you won't be able to laugh
a joke so terrifyingly amusing, you cannot listen to it again
or it will burst your chest in hilariousness.
Laugh about it, loud and crazy,
don't retreat a chance to look,
as life's osbcure and obtrusive faible for grim sarcasm,
is always worth a level-up or two.*
Life is just living.
It's about hanging on, about clinging to it;
There is nothing special to it, no mysteries to be solved,
no desire and no craving, except you go for it.
It's a game you can't refuse without playing it anyway,
so trying to win is as good as loosing by doing nothing.
And when you are not satisfied with the outcome
or you always end up loosing despite your biggest efforts,
you can always change how, why and with who you play
and start anew.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 6:10 AM UTC
Silence screams its cries of pain
Realized only in the darkest corners
Flashes of electric blue bear witness
The crack shatters the silence
And deafens the pain...momentarily
Caught off guard, the tempest shifts
Whirling cyclone through smokey heart
Dust clouds of ancient barricades crumbling
The darkness grows to an eclipse
Quietly, patiently, time passes so slowly it seems to rewind
Footsteps softened, neigh, silenced by the thickening dust
It settles quickly, as mottled shades of gray
Begin replacing the true absence of light
Sliver by blinding sliver it penetrates
Searing, in it's obtrusive insistence
Piercing both heart and soul
Killing the blind peace
With hope disguised as fear
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 4:26 AM UTC
I am not a truth seeker
Though I pretend to be
I would rather be comforted
By lies
Reality is far too obtrusive
And far fetched
For me
I am not a truth seeker
So look into my eyes
And tell me, one more time
You love me
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
This body is to narrow to start the concrete picturesque poetry
As a marvelous bright sparkling spring into the pitch black marvel stone
My poems are shallow water running out of time climbing backwards
Shanti dances, Shakti watches, I ride the glossy magenta mountain byke Elementally through the potentially ***** city, gulping two little
flying spoons wwhhpp mhm
of
Brilliant IO Ag
Helth guarantieed on the nulth spelling positive not
Obtrusive politely declined skipped suggestive
Visually objective little pencil box down bellow
friend _ this is blank !
Absolutely! Absoulutely! A ****** stream of no perservatives no ***
Objecting flowery flunder opiates Words grow from
Barriers between insufficient gestures from human
Jazzy left ear leaving laments of sounds incapability to stay
Endlessly entwined and glued together as your soul loves
Tender tactile cats touch on your desperate desert sju++
Ave Gratias Plena Ava Gardner Avon Avion
My throat is not of a managment made suits suiting suitcases
I'm Tired Of Fraternities Or True Females Always Ends Well
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 3:37 PM UTC
I want to breathe again
I want to breathe without gasping
I want to inhale something larger
I want to hold my breath,
Hold on to it
I want to exist only in the purest sense
Breathe only nitrogen gas
Fade into the most obtrusive backgrounds
Hold only the most battle-scarred hands
Touch only saddest faces
I know only the broken
The chaotic and unholy
Defeated, given up
Smashed silently into walls and left on the ground to pray to religions they don't understand
I know only the broken,
The forced,
The many
The similar footsteps,
The same directions
The same people copied onto different faces
"I swear I'm human..."
Please don't run away like that-
- She looked back at me.
"I SWEAR I'm human..."
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
Squeaky wheel gets the grease
Try your best to remain silent
Grim reaper's dreadful lease
Kindness kills so very violent
Let them talk, and grab all the attention
Check your clock, file for an extension
Avoid the flock , ignore the convention
Long beach walk, to another dimension
The loudest voice
The most obtrusive
Now Make a choice
I'll remain elusive
So listen up I have a story to tell
About a young boy stuck in a well
Confined to a silent but deadly cell
Plagued by his own personal hell
Stick to the plan and stay prudent
To become a man first be a student
Stop, look and listen and forever you will learn
Lessons will arise and they will once again burn
Never take anything that you truly didn't earn
Impatience always rewards the bold out of turn
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 3:18 AM UTC
*Time...a puzzle
to realists and surrealists alike
Time...a puzzle
of grand pieces
obvious if obtuse
obtrusive and obstructive
laboriously laid to waste
constructing a picture of existence
solid yet stolid
Time...a puzzle
of fine pieces
subtle if sharp
spacious and serene
pensively placed at random
culminating in a mosaic of life
fragmented yet feeling
Time...a puzzle of pieces
contained within a box
...or...
in a different dimension altogether...*
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 12:37 AM UTC
The softest touch of a loving friend
To the deepest **** from a charaded blade
Where does blissful sensation make its end;
Converting to the obtrusive pain enfilade?
A subtle ambiance from a serene musician
To the daily news of grief and causality
When do loving whispers of mutual affection;
Fade into a harsh scolding from authority?
An untasted sweetness of rare delicacy
To the sour lingering of bitter temptation
How does the favored indulgences' nuancy;
Shift to a bland routine of daily recreation?
A picturesque sight of undying fantasy accord
To the shocking reception of a suicide note
Why do relations flow from their distant discord;
Into the desperate end that fate already wrote?
The lavishing waft of a motley gardens' aroma;
To the putrid scent sifting in the house of flies
What's the difference between this mundane coma;
And the ignored certainty we all despise?
Aren't pain and bliss really just one in the same?
Like the lowest to highest on any sort of scale
Every single trace of emotion just felt by name;
Portrayed variably through each separate tale
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 7:39 PM UTC
there is much to remind yourself
of other's dazed concepts
like coming to terms
with your own madness;
The Smiths
and this cigarette
reading Life Alone
by R. de Ungria smashing
my head blood sprawling
across the page
blasting in my ear a fecund dark.
what am i to do
with a hand,
the spindrift by the sea
blowing against the windows,
with a thigh,
this palpable quietude
all mornings arrive
with a hatful of shadows
vulgarly obtrusive
with the night,
a den of thieves.
Caligula rearing the ******
to Nero, and I to myself
in front of the mirror
still
clawed by the same
beast maimed
behind the bush.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 9:55 AM UTC
A baggage full of hope
With fragments of dreams and ardor
Desiring to get up to the slope
Where she’ll find her own harbor
A baggage full of hope
In ceaseless heedful caress
Not wanting to ever elope
Amidst the melody she cannot express
A baggage full of hope
Packed for the long journey to Utopia
Wishing to just remain afloat
In a night sky with stars in cornucopia
A baggage full of hope
Drenched in a swamp of sorrow
Will she still be able to cope
And be saved from being hollow?
A baggage full of hope
A casket of ambition, lost and lifeless
Will holding on to the obtrusive rope
Bring her back up and leave her boundless?
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 3:56 AM UTC
"Man, I can't stand the people who just panhandle and heckle the passersby. It's not their job to support your lifestyle and/or habits! I had one friend who was just harassing people; hey man, leave them the **** alone! I just wanted to punch him in the ******* face. Get a job, ya *** Trim some **** or some ****
"Heh, yeah.. people can be obtrusive about some things.. I still like to try to help if I can; I mean, we're all in this together."
"I don't want your ******* money! Well, I mean, I have a job; I could go over to that ATM and take my money out and spend it.. .but why the **** would I want to? I only say that 'cause some ************* **** me off. Support yourself, like the rest of the Natural World, you selfish *****
"Well, I'd feel better with my cash in hand than in some bank owned by some greedy, shifty, slick, loophole-fucking *************
"Wait a second, boy, do you paint your fingernails?"
"..Yes."
"Are you heterosexual?"
"... yes."
"Okay, just checkin'. I'm just curious. I don't care what you do with your **** as long as you're responsible and don't **** with well-meaning girls' hearts and **** We got too many diseased and pregnant ************* People deserve better than that stupid **** Some of 'em like being treated like objects, though. Them's the filthy'ns."
"Ookay.. thanks for the advice. I'm going to be on my way now. Have a great day."
"Alright. Don't be an ******* to anyone until they show that they deserve it! Be a ******* Person to other ******* People, you know what I mean, boy?"
"Yep, I sure do. It's been an experience; good morning."
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 10:30 AM UTC
Intimacy;
The ache, what holds it, clenched wings, cold air, soft eyes?
And yet, in forgetting everything, forgetting nothing; colors shed in obtrusive blindness.
What archaic endlessness, holds its world aloft?
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 6:05 PM UTC
Building ourselves is no easy task;
We must rip off our masks.
Only then can we construct,
Only then can we obstruct.
If you flow down the river,
Your soul will shiver,
As you never grasp your potential,
Which for happiness is essential.
Stand alone, be obtrusive,
Oppose those whom are abusive.
Find yourself, find your convictions,
Throw off stagnancy the addiction.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC