"occurring" poems
and there i am in the midst of it all, conscious of what appears to be existent, yet knowing it is illusory. and if time is occurring synchronously then how can i look back with contrition? for if i have the capacity to move backwards and forwards in quantum leaps, i can erase the past like pastel chalk on an antique blackboard, then start anew. is not the sky my canvas and the arc of the rainbow my palette? and the stars in lustrous luminosity light my way so that ev’n at dusk I can paint. yet pain ne’er ceases to hollow me out. then through a barren vessel i catch more rain, and pour it out upon the parched terrain. just when i thought enlightenment was nigh, a sharp edge is discovered. must it necessitate additional sandpapering from the wind? when will the gemstone sparkle without further pressure? does it lie in its power to simply shimmer sans duress? perhaps it was dazzling at its inception, relinquishing its luster upon domestication. with this proviso, as it nears twilight i shall tarry and blend with the night. i’ll dance with a moonbeam knowing the jewel will glisten afresh upon the rise of the golden sun.
@2016janetaylor
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 11:37 AM UTC
The heart flutters,
It's pulses intensifying,
magnifying
the state of frenzy it's in.
The mind whirs,
It's cogs turning in abandon,
and yet delicately
Searching for an essence of normalcy
Occurring,
and all the while;
I've uttered no two words
For I am lost in the
delicate frenzy,
of the mind,
the heart
my fragmented self.
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 2:16 PM UTC
Conceal amnesiac eyes with a hood,
Maybe nights fall oddly placid.
Sleep could collapse its resistance,
Crumble sunlight into ashes.
Nightmares internally unravel,
Soldiers fought, already lost.
Invasive thoughts occurring,
Arising ice, I can't defrost.
This complexion leaves me perplexed,
Battling behind my forehead.
I can't evade this hopelessness,
I've pled, go back to bed.
Sunsets settled maniacal,
Malnourished; give me a mask.
Because all I ache for is sleep,
To possess what life I'd had-
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 1:46 PM UTC
An exchange of temptations that led to a hidden ordeal
On an act of carnal ecstasy made to seal a deal
The gamble to see if it’s worth lending a piece of the soul
While trembling inside for the choices that would soon take toll
The signs of deceit slowly surfaced but were shrugged despite suspicion
Until a hasty flight provoked inner unrest and affliction
Vivid memories of a previous torment come back haunting
Knowing full well the Succubus affinity for betraying
With logic and reason as both weapon and armor
Against an enemy not easily made for capture
Bargaining on a final bet that her grip be brought to nothing
To release the mind from seemingly rotting
The bargain commenced along with foreseen treason
The sought peace only a hollow victory in a silently echoing frustration
In total silence with a feeling that heavily burned
A mental wall built to signify the lesson learned
Screams of pain of the innards locked away in reticence
Occurring to just seemingly mock the brilliance
With great resolve brought by the treachery writhing in virulence
Came the vigilance of avoiding such penitence
And to never again taste the Succubus’ Sting in Silence
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 9:09 PM UTC
Thousands of miles away
Human beings are being gassed to death
And photographs of mourning families
Are published by the hour
And even though
The world acknowledges Syria's current condition
Very few have seen the pictures
Blood and tears and unfathomable terror
Ignorance at its finest
America at its finest
Why cant we be a nation of proactivity rather than reactivity
Why does it take so much
For people to realize
That genocide is occurring
And that lives are being torn apart
As we sit calmly at our dinner tables
Abundant with pea soup
And roasted chicken
And lack of caring
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 6:33 PM UTC
"Too many things are occurring for even a big heart to hold." - From an essay by W. B. Yeats
Big heart,
wide as a watermelon,
but wise as birth,
there is so much abundance
in the people I have:
Max, Lois, Joe, Louise,
Joan, Marie, Dawn,
Arlene, Father Dunne,
and all in their short lives
give to me repeatedly,
in the way the sea
places its many fingers on the shore,
again and again
and they know me,
they help me unravel,
they listen with ears made of conch shells,
they speak back with the wine of the best region.
They are my staff.
They comfort me.
They hear how
the artery of my soul has been severed
and soul is spurting out upon them,
bleeding on them,
messing up their clothes,
dirtying their shoes.
And God is filling me,
though there are times of doubt
as hollow as the Grand Canyon,
still God is filling me.
He is giving me the thoughts of dogs,
the spider in its intricate web,
the sun
in all its amazement,
and a slain ram
that is the glory,
the mystery of great cost,
and my heart,
which is very big,
I promise it is very large,
a monster of sorts,
takes it all in--
all in comes the fury of love.
5.6k
though deep he sleeps sometimes,
combining this exhaustive restorative
of old age, that alternates with a restlessness
rest of old age ~ the brain's nightly self-cleansing,
both necessities absolute
so he be unsurprised, by a parallel process,
occurring beside him, as woman rumbles, mumbles,
all the while reenacting the things we dare not acknowledge
in the waking hours, much too painful, much to fearfully real unreal,
but, best unrealized
she bolts upright, looks around, attempting to cross back,
looking, investigating, ascertaining time and place, localizing
her orientation, while assessing external+imagined dreamt threats,
till satisfied sufficient that whatever dreamt, realized or dreamisized,
before, going prone once-more
the watch man observes, the critical threat level, doesn't
approach the red line, not requiring hands-on interventions,
and relieved, that she has expunged and expelled the mind's many
molecules of memories, true or false, real or revisionary, making clean
white tissued neuron+cell for the morrow
and thus he reminds himself, that he be watch man, observing, uninterfering, is too, is also, a definitive infinite
only love poetry
Jul 29, 2025
Jul 29, 2025 at 6:59 PM UTC
They say that the cities
Are paved with gold
That this is the land
Where dreams are made true
I'll tell you its where they are sold
Only the ruthless can afford
To rise to the top
The cities are nothing but cold
Homeless in doorways
And beggars on corners
A meagre minimum wage income
A damp house to welcome
Indirect subtle insults
Discrimination and accusation
Faulted into submission
One size fits all
Well it better fit you
Or you're just another number
Database, forms and paperwork
Lost in the system
Nine to five
Or the underworld shift
Borrow from Peter to give to Paul
Man made traps
Crime is always at an all time high
Theft, **** fraud, ******
Delinquency
Occurring frequently
I read the news
And it starts my day off miserably
Concrete jungle
Where have you gone simple things
If you have a minute
Tell me about the other side
The place I want to go
Acres of playground fun
I want to hear about the trees
The earth beneath your feet
Do you sit by the river
And feel complete
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 5:46 PM UTC
thankful for my angels
thankful for my demons
thankful for the battle occurring in my mind.
I'm thankful to have experienced the torture
and the pain.
I'm thankful for the bad and the good
but mainly the terrible.
for if it weren't for the terrible,
I would not be where I am today.
whether that's alive, or a writer.
either way, my heart continues to grow and learn from my past mistakes.
i am a flower,
who's petals are sure to bloom soon.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC
What flows through me,
flows through you...
They all call it
some ancient kind of voodoo.
When the cash is not enough,
you have to open new doors,
sit back with the dancing shadows,
as the feeling leaves your pores.
There is some news coming,
and it is not on CNN.
It is the new-coming,
with proper particles of zen.
Beginnings with no ends;
an apocalyptic change...
phenomenon to transcend;
we will never be the same.
The world is awake,
doing all that it can.
Do not make the mistake
of sleeping on the plan.
Different perspectives
under one light;
Different projections
of all that is right.
Walk with the wind,
and feel the depth of the river.
Also feel the cold --
There is no heat without the shiver.
Be calm like a giver.
Plant a vine and let it grow.
Persevere and do not whither...
There is more for you to know.
Take a path and sing a song;
run, walk, and fly.
This is your marathon.
Now, ask yourself why...
You have a purpose,
whether sun or fog,
it will be worth it,
for what you will fight along
the way. Which way?
If you do not know where to go,
hear what they say,
listen and then glow.
Evolution is occurring,
and anxious souls await,
but do not be in a hurry;
it is a door, not an escape.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 3:37 PM UTC
Of serene eyes that follow gently
the illicit pill she could not let go
it was heavy as the waters pulling her inside
serenading her with an estranged voice
coming from within —
her minimizing the desire to let it out
as the sun quiets down
and the gibbous moon exhibiting itself at night,
resisting the waves occurring —
as if it loathed her whole being
of her justness and the absence of these causes
her grieving and the sirens waltzing,
talking through an absentminded eye
eyeing her soul
finding love that seizes it
but hers were two feet and one mouth to breathe in
even in all shades of blue,
she can get a glimpse of the dark hue
illuminating the downside of the ocean
pulling her, wrecking her soul.
Redemption does not lie —
humoring her with plainly just truth
craving for the applause of the moon
only observing the depth of the ocean
eating the once alive soul
of her saving her last breath,
chiming in with the conversation, she
once had with him.
It could have been nice the resistance
he once had — to throw himself out
to the beauty of his light that shed
her whole body
he once was able to have
and he stayed there, eyed her the whole time
being eaten on the lonesome of the night
for he himself, shading all the blueness
like a requiem for the dreams
she kept on having
like a composition giving life
to new generations, he was still on
a token and a curse, and he let her be —
in all shades of blue.
Jul 11, 2022
Jul 11, 2022 at 5:21 AM UTC
it's a friday night and i am sat at the top of the bleachers with three packs of maltesers i told the cashier were for my friends with a blurry grin and the hot chocolate in my hands lied. it's lukewarm and tastes of milk, not sweets, and the taste of it still taints my lips because i'm forcing myself to drink it anyways. the stars are yellow set against navy hues and they're blinking down at me.
there's announcers shouting something about the game occurring on the field but i'm not listening, never listening, never apathetic or empathic enough to want to. the music blares, cheers roar, announcers boom, the scoreboard flashes- it's cold enough to be huddled beneath blankets but i've only got a sweatshirt hiding my hands, hiding my fingers, hiding me. my ribs shiver and the ghosts in the spaces between them gather closer for a warmth that won't come. the moon says hello to me and i struggle to catch enough air to say it back.
my friends are nowhere to be found and i can't feel my fingertips and the flavor of lukewarm hot chocolate leaves me and i'm closing my eyes, shutting them tight, disconnecting.
there's suddenly no one here, just me and the blackness behind my eyelids. it's like i'm watching humans but never being one of them. maybe i'm meant to be an alien- maybe that one star blinking at me is a planet welcoming me home- maybe if i lay my lungs to rest they'll leave me be.
i can feel my heart giving up on me.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 9:03 PM UTC
A cloudless night like this
Can set the spirit soaring:
After a tiring day
The clockwork spectacle is
Impressive in a slightly boring
Eighteenth-century way.
It soothed adolescence a lot
To meet so shameless a stare;
The things I did could not
Be so shocking as they said
If that would still be there
After the shocked were dead
Now, unready to die
Bur already at the stage
When one starts to resent the young,
I am glad those points in the sky
May also be counted among
The creatures of middle-age.
It's cosier thinking of night
As more an Old People's Home
Than a shed for a faultless machine,
That the red pre-Cambrian light
Is gone like Imperial Rome
Or myself at seventeen.
Yet however much we may like
The stoic manner in which
The classical authors wrote,
Only the young and rich
Have the nerve or the figure to strike
The lacrimae rerum note.
For the present stalks abroad
Like the past and its wronged again
Whimper and are ignored,
And the truth cannot be hid;
Somebody chose their pain,
What needn't have happened did.
Occurring this very night
By no established rule,
Some event may already have hurled
Its first little No at the right
Of the laws we accept to school
Our post-diluvian world:
But the stars burn on overhead,
Unconscious of final ends,
As I walk home to bed,
Asking what judgment waits
My person, all my friends,
And these United States.
3.9k
Helping a child with a mental illness and co-occurring disorder such as substance abuse disorder. Our little diamonds who grow up with a broken mind.
Diamonds are in the rough. How long does it take to mine a diamond?
If you as a parent do not have any tools, you will have bloodied hands and feet and never will you get to where your child can shine without the addictive source.
Diamonds are found in many ways, but to communicate with the diamond, the ore around it is crushed and milled.
Diamonds repel water, but are drawn to grease.
Expect to get down and ***** when helping your addict, but DO NOT, go into the pit. You will be of no help once you are in.
Jul 3, 2022
Jul 3, 2022 at 3:08 PM UTC
The first duty of the State
Should be sanitation,
Not defense, nor cyber-security.
Drain the swamps.
**** the vermin.
Wash & sweep the streets.
Let us forgive his past shenanigans.
A vote for ****** is a
Vote for cleanliness.
After all: next to Godliness.
(American politician **Anthony ****** former member of the U.S. House of Representatives from New York City, was involved in a ****** scandal related to sexting, or sending explicit ****** material by cell phone. On June 16, 2011, ****** announced his intention to resign from Congress with his official resignation occurring on June 23, 2011.)
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 10:39 PM UTC
All sorrow is perpendicular occurring
at right angles of tragedy encircling
the grief-stricken with straight edges
only once intersecting across infinite planes—
Don't dare draw the lines between points
or shade the region with limits or curves
because the trajectories of bullets are plotted
on branes intolerant of slightest triangulation
Woe unto the seekers of sine waves
sobbing thinking of filling every trough
believing surely by now we've offered enough
to sate these bloodthirsty Euclidean demons
Cresting won't ever arrive in this course
filled to the brim with asymptotes, cold corollaries
but never spilling over under our sacred
pledge of allegiance to the 2nd Parallel Postulate
No intersections can be admitted with thoughts
& prayers extending outward barely co-planar
serious public policy proposals axiomatic
insistence on the Nirvana Theorem or nothing
A set of all points remains, mutually exclusive
motionless and always incongruent clueless
about their own particular geometries
awaiting radical Pythagorean salvation
Some paradigm we’ve built here though!
Two hundred years of living polygonal hand
to elliptical mouth without tangential reflection
on the unproven flatness of humanspace.
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 4:41 AM UTC
On April 10th, 1846 on the ship Devonshire from Liverpool,
one Catherine McCarty, age 17 arrived in New York during times most cruel.
She made this long journey to escape the famine occurring in her native Ireland.
We don't know if she arrived alone or with family
or whether she was married or accompanied with a boyfriend.
The passenger arrival manifest has her listed a servant as the occupation she did.
Based only on her age and her name, many historians have speculated and proclaimed
that she's the mother of BILLY the Kid.
Billy's mother died on September 16th in the year of 1874.
She was 45 years old according to her obituary.
Combine the above information and we know one thing for sure.
Immigrant Catherine shared the same age and name as did the true mother of Billy.
It seems that due to health reasons, Catherine McCarty's life had gone onto
searching for dryer climate out west as a single mother of two.
One of her sons would live a full life and then fade into obscurity.
Her other son would die very young and become one of the greatest legends to ever be.
No one knows anything about the boys' father or whether they shared the same one.
Did he/they die or abandon the family? Your guess is as good as anyone's.
Catherine was a strong, independent, gregarious lass
whom everyone seemed to like and enjoy very dearly.
She earned a living selling baked goods to customers she had amassed
and by also doing much of the neighborhood's ***** laundry.
She also dabbled in real estate, purchasing what little property she could afford,
and to earn extra income she'd often open the door to her home and welcome
all those willing to pay room and board.
It was clearly shown that she could take on the responsibility alone,
as far as providing and caring for her boys.
When she wasn't earning employment, she'd occasionally indulge in the enjoyment
that every good, loving mother enjoys.
After schooling her children, she'd take them to local dances
where she was known to be one of the grandest dancers on the dance floor,
but of all the dance partners she'd dance with
there was always one she could never resist
and he'd want to dance with her more and more.
"Of all my dance partners," she told him one night, "you are my favorite one."
To see her lovingly gaze into his eyes, it certainly would come as no surprise
to learn that William Henry was Catherine McCarty's favored son.
To Be Continued
Jul 7, 2010
Jul 7, 2010 at 4:47 PM UTC
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Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 7:37 AM UTC
Let me begin this with an apology.
An apology for the way I have been acting lately.
I do not know how I've let myself become so selfish,
But you must understand, I'm working on myself,
I just need time to find the me I know I can be.
I've had a re-occurring thought of coming back home, lately.
Just for a week or two,
but every time I try it
Within a hour I'm getting ******* at for words I didn't say
It crumbles my heart
Now don't you forget, I will always remember
You have been there since the very first day
Through the best and the worst,
it has been us against every home we've lived in.
Regardless of the fact that we've been growing apart
I don't want to lose you,
but I just can't find the time to start our YouTube channel.
I'm not blind to the fact, I may lose bits and pieces
of our own personal connection
as we mature,
But you will always be a part of me.
I know I haven't been acting the way some of these words display,
I lost sight of my past, I strayed from our path of fondness, but if you're willing to give it a try,
It's something I'd like to get back.
You are always on my mind,
deep down I know my heart is always crying
Therefore, I hope you might accept my sincerest apology.
And if that is something you are unable to do,
I will understand.
I'm truly sorry.
This is my apology.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 3:34 AM UTC
With no expectation all's novelty
The new patterns don't astound us
We can stay in the middle of the river with our heads above the water
And safely watch the coastline pass us by
The outside world an ocean of television static
The signals painting pictures of entropic holograms
That interlock and correlate
Until the ghosts of time are churning out
Like geese into a a tiny hole
In an orange plastic fence
Fleeing mischievous youngsters
Who love to watch them funneled in
Like grains of sand in an hourglass.
We too live in an hourglass
And the grains of sand empty out the bottom
Floating aimlessly through an unending void
And the ultimate improbability
Goes through the formality of actually occurring
When the grain of sand finds itself at the beginning
Passing once again through the hourglass
Undivided, indistinguishable
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 10:12 AM UTC
All I know is monsters
All I see is a cold world that gets darker as the *** stir's
The future blurs to a point its so obscure it's not yours
Can't seem to stop words from causing me to go backwards
Maybe I need to go back and relearn like toddlers in diapers
There's no cures
All the fibers of my being are withering away like dead flowers
Retreating like cowards
The more I try the worse I fail, a living hell, crunch the numbers
I've done the math, a chalk board full of blunders
Nightmares occurring with my eyes wide shut
It's more then a rut
A candidate to win? Nope, I have a losing ballot
No safety blanket and no bright colors on my pallet
Hollow and cryptic
Revisit the past like I'm stuck to it with a rivet
This isn't just unfortunate it's inadequate
Chew off my arm to be free or just cannibalistic
Can I even resist it?
This dark army that I have enlisted
For to long happy never even existed
And you wonder why I tend go ballistic...
Man, *** this $hit!
©2018
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 12:39 AM UTC
There is a lot that happens
Throughout the lifetime of a day
24 complete hours of life
Wake up daily, move forward
Know that change is occurring
One afternoon you'll look back
See the last 5 years, changed
You might feel like day to day
Seems the same
The job, apartment, drinks, women
All change, eventually, inevitably
Don't think for one second
That change won't come
It always comes, so work for it
Stay in front of change
You can create change
By moving forward,
Remembering everyday will not last
That change is everywhere
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 4:20 PM UTC
Some days I swear my brain in burning....
Just can't ignore it, it's too distracting
& honestly quite disturbing
But the mother ****** just keeps on occurring
FUCK!!....See I can feel it now, it's returning
I don't know what the **** is going down in my brain
It's so intense & twisted, I wouldn't even begin to know how to explain....
....I suppose, maybe, it's like you're trippin' on acid while listening to Black Hole
Sun or Acid Rain
There's so much going on, it's more than I can handle, too much to contain
& this happens daily, pretty soon it'll be all sanity ****** into the drain
Now see.....there it went, just as quickly as it came
It's a complete & utter mind **** game
Just when I start to enjoy it
It tells me, JUST KIDDING, I QUIT!!!
I'm getting ******* tired of its ****
Either go away & don't return
Or ******* stay & commit
But this come & go
None sense I'm beginning to really ******* hate
I'm not interested in what you're dishing out upon your plate
Because every time I attempt to sample off it, I end up in some twisted mental
state
Locked away for not two, three or four days double that!!
YUP ******* EIGHT!!
After finally coming back to reality
& clearing up my damaged mentality
Yup, there goes a little more of my integrity
Before you know it, I'll be judged by the eyes of society
But you know what....
**** IT, it will only make better & I'll remain, still, with my sick ***
personality
So bring it on random feeling
Throw your worst at me,
You'll get 86'd like Al Kapone
I'm now in savage mode
Nothing's going to mess with me, not even your tightest hold
So tell me.... "How does it feel to be shut out in the cold?"
I've figured out your evil mission & it sure as hell will be made
IMPOSSIBLE!!
Because this girl right here is simply unstoppable
So hurry up & hop back on your little tricycle
You wouldn't want to freeze up now, like a popsicle
&& that's how you win a fight without once getting physical
So here I'm left to sit alone
All I'm left with are pupils noticeably dilated
After my brain was rudely invaded
Like it was a trap house getting ransacked & raided
But I was done being mind ****** & violated
With all I had in me I fought & I can proudly say I MADE IT!
So the results are in....
&& guess what bitches....I WIN!!
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 9:01 AM UTC
I fill the void with hunger,
I fill the void with getting lost with people by my side who’s faces i recognize
but who’s souls i do not know.
i fill the void with you.
i fill the void with you because even though i know that we do not fit together like the perfect puzzle pieces that i wish we could be
at least
i’m not
alone.
i fill the void with consumption
i fill the void with cigarettes
i fill the void with inhale after inhale
until my belly is full with the heaviest of thoughts
and my nightmares circle around and around my skull until they come to rest exactly where you always said that i had that golden crown,
the one that i could never see.
i fill the void with madness
i fill the void with pointless anger,
seeping from my throat and drowning my tongue
tasting bitter like a rotten lemon
but the bitterness is better than tasting nothing at all
and it sticks to my chapped lips like an old friend.
i fill the void with endless calculations
meticulously measuring my emptiness clinging onto my insides
with a measuring stick
and even though i measure with repetitive precision,
it never measures up to my own highest standards
and I fill the void by hurling insults at your face
and even after you’ve closed the door, like a poignant period finally occurring at the end of a infinite infinite run on sentence.
i continue to spit, spit fiery slurs that in reality fall more like water droplets that ultimately accumulate mid air
and last a little while,
but never outlast the darkness that is fiercely stuck to the soles of my shoes.
And I breathe it back in
and I breathe it back in
just to feel a little bit more full.
I fill the void with a look of contentment that i plaster on my face because
i
i
can feel when you are looking
i fill the void with confidence
i fill the void with courage
i fill the void by carrying fear across my chest and over my shoulder like i’m going into battle and never
coming
back.
i fill the void with the hope that i can hope hard enough to fill myself up again
but no matter how much i fill
i can feel my insides draining
faster than a bottomless kitchen sink.
and regardless of how hard i clasp my hands against the gaping hole where i used to gently hold a relentless summer,
i can feel that the coldest winter has begun to replace it.
and i can almost still feel its warmth
just like I used to when i used to..
when you used to say you could feel it too.
my frigid fingers lock around my neck as i finally release that empty feeling that buries my deepest desires
and i feel my wild beating beating heart finally submitting to resolve.
and i realize
that i can never be full.
I realize
that I will never be full.
And so i float away
like an abandoned ballon
just like my mother said the others did
and when i join them there
they remind me that at least i’m not alone.
and they tell me that perhaps in the end
the point
was not to be full anyway.
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 7:45 PM UTC