"organizes" poems
she won't look you in the eye and her
hands shake as she
organizes twelve pills a day seven days a drawn out week
things are fine for
now,
the tv runs, food stamps are in order, a smoke once in a
while.
she used to believe
Someone is after me
Someone is after me and i have to run away
she twisted her eight year old's hand in hers and told him they were going on an adventure
he was happy when his suitcase was stolen
he didn't have to carry it from state to state to state
anymore.
mom, you went to college?
yes, i went to college
teachers say college will make life good
yes
why isn't life good?
stability means being hallowed out and left to an empty room.
Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 2:20 PM UTC
Leeza, Lisa’s 14-year-old little sister, is anxious about the first day of school. She didn’t tell me that, I’m not sure 14-year-olds talk anymore.
Now that I’m almost 21, I can roll my eyes, like everyone else, and say, “Teenagers.”
Leeza’s a jingli, all-angles, taller than I am (when did THAT happen),
redhead who’s fast becoming a Lisa-like beauty.
School starts, for her, in 11 days and every piece of clothing she owns is draped across the furniture in her room or the floor, as she organizes her skool outfits.
There’s a pile of rejected apparel in one corner - the outcasts -
and a stack of magazine cutouts showing the clothes she plans to buy.
I wandered into her room that afternoon and she watched
me suspiciously, like I might steal her nonexistent baby.
“These might go together,” I said, holding up a top and skirt as a combo.
She winced, involuntarily, as if exposed to something distasteful.
Apparently, I’m getting old and my teen-taste is attenuated or worse yet - past its expiration date.
.
.
A song for this:
Houdini by Eminem [E]
Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana
Aug 27, 2024
Aug 27, 2024 at 3:27 PM UTC
Moses descends from the rugged heights of Sinai bearing the tablet
"You shall not ******
Nietzche organizes the cobwebs of his mind to declare morality is his own
"God is dead"
Even Monty Python creates mockery and mishap from "The Meaning of Life."
A Macedonian, a **** a Patriot
with Intelligence, Voice, and Sword
step over the caution tape and march nations
into the deepest valleys atop the heights of Everest.
The likes of Augustine put their chips on the table for patience
but Patton has a pair of aces and the academics fold before the river.
The denotations of Good and Evil are forever
infinite and versatile to the dismay of the Philosopher,
while God himself
is denied power
to undo the past.
Humanity lives
on the nourishment
of knowledge.
Mar 27, 2010
Mar 27, 2010 at 8:51 AM UTC
Esteem of reflection billowing up whenever one puff fades.
Day in, day out.
Pass in, pass out.
Staring off into space, am I getting better at geometry?
Looking into the line of nowhere.
Physical lines may just happen to converge with this.
Darkness may happen to eclipse it.
A point happens to be on it.
A light happens to shine therein.
Lines may also conflict with it.
Colors may not align with it.
Conglomerations may exist there without any congruence.
People happen upon it.
Muscles and nerve endings traverse it.
Needs cross its consciousness.
Predictions cross over it too.
Some ideas are superseded here.
The esteem of reflection scans all areas: physical, emotional, and mental.
The internal image is destroyed, or ground to dust.
Sounds are implanted upon it.
An imaginary self-concept is manifested on it.
The cycle of new crossings re-circulates.
Like this whole poem only affected my knowledge and not reality.
I sit up.
My body is placed on this line.
Like it is on stage acting for this line.
Cleanliness and neatness cross it.
The esteem of reflection takes on the form of part of my body.
I lay back down.
The self-concept reiterates itself.
As if my body's forms must assert themselves.
Afraid to look at bold symbols.
Afraid to act like I touch the things in this room.
A sense of shared humanity is spit out by my head.
I am the weak and selfish one.
Not esteeming another.
Only esteeming me and my reflection.
Not sharing a room.
Like I'm pulling down and in.
With my head in the sand.
I consider knowledge that isn't directly observed as secondary.
And I don't mean observed in a book.
This self-concept becomes the center which organizes the things that cross the line of nowhere.
It is the best comparison to my physical self, yet a figment of my imagination.
It is shaped more by attention than by materiality.
It's funny how anointing is at once a rising over and a descending.
Yet it cannot fully transform my mind.
For even this blessing crosses the line of nowhere.
And the esteem of reflection rises above it.
But when the line of nowhere becomes the self-concept then the mind is fully transformed.
The esteem of reflection would have equality with the self-concept.
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 1:49 AM UTC
One by one they fall
The ones I thought
Were my friends
There they go,
Distancing themselves
From me,
Until they are completely gone
From sight
But not from mind
Every night I remember
The fallen faces
Once friends
Now death eaters
Devouring my
Malleable flesh
"You will never lose me"
The newest one to the
Fallen faces said just the night before
She lied, and stole my friend
One less from my already
Tiny group
Of people who "care" for me
I never know what I do
To deserve this from anyone
Maybe its my tone
My anger
The demons that let themselves loose
On the page
Or maybe it's the things that count
The things they know and see of me
The kindness I give to them
The love I give for all I care for
Or the horrible, despicable, evil
Things inside themselves,
That I protect them from
My malleable flesh
That they currode away
The flesh that
They know is weak
And know they can walk all over
Because of my overwhelming kindness
I don't know
Why I keep believing
When people say they won't leave
When they always do
My mother
Gives me my kindness
My father
Gives me the rage I throw
On pages and pages
But never show
My mother
The reason why I'm so malleable
My father
The reason why I have the dreams
Of killing, of yelling
Both
My depression
My mind now
Reworking all that has just happened
In it self
It organizes my thoughts
Replaying the events
Showing what to do next time
Re-Awakening itself
To now know
Not to trust those who
Show no effort
Who pretend to know
Who eventually, will be the others
In my dreams,
Of killing
In my writing,
Where all of my demons let loose.
I want to love all
Even thought I know
Not all will love me
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 1:47 AM UTC
A neat and tidy life she leads
Every day the same
To keep it all under tight wraps
is her only aim
In her mind she organizes
Replace, rotate, no compromises
Every thought and every word,
They're all arranged by sizes
Every thing has its' own place
That she's made just for it
Ideas go here, memories go there,
No mess will she permit
By each night her mind-desk is cleared
No stray documents are found
Until morning comes they lay in files
Waiting safe and sound
But sometimes something new will come
In a way quite efficiently
Better known as a fax,
but to her, a facsimile
Startled by the incoming message
She rushes to give it a home
- It does not fit with any files
Registers, databases, or others of the like,
She leaves it sitting on her desk
Where it sat overnight
Without a place of its' own
The message grew and grew
Without a spot to place it in,
She didn't know what to do
As it grew out of her control,
She watched with total awe
It overtook her entire world
All she did was withdraw
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 11:46 AM UTC
forward thinking
peach tea
always the one who hates to leave
hesitant lover
cuffed sleeves
organizes in color schemes
late night worker
christmas eve
lover of all velvet things
advid artist
blushing pink
seems to always be misperceived
-i.w.
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 11:22 AM UTC
are you up for a ride?
existence is timeless as long as you can concentrate on not concentrating on the chains that constrain you from joy.
forget your made up problems, from this made up schedule that organizes your made up life.
you are nothing but fiction.
a collection of figments of consciousness, paradoxically, including your own.
dissolve the bittersweet pills of perception.
be a wanderer in the astral landscape of understanding beyond what can be understood.
**** on the ruthless music notes that dare pierce your soul and remind you of your body.
be free of all humanness in you.
be the nothing between us,
and everything.
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 12:17 PM UTC
Man is a wild animal
in a herd, a group
that organizes
to be tamed
but it's not easy
to get the systems right
There are unexpected effects
or oppressive requirements
No one is responsible
Deposing leaders, killing
dictators makes no difference
The people tolerate the successor
Help is needed
From the outside, but
the borders are deadly
to humanity
So I must appreciate little
things, a glance
the clouds, fresh bread once
and dream what is forbidden
May 26, 2023
May 26, 2023 at 4:07 AM UTC
I've been trying
Trying trying
To become a better person
To do the things
I say I'm going to do
To do the things
That I think about
That I know I should do
Support the people
I should be supporting
Surround myself
With people that support me
I've been working towards
A better me
That helps people
The way I know I should
That organizes the community
That fights against bigotry
That tries to end oppression
That fights for the oppressed
Someone that thinks less
About themselves
And more about
Others
I've been trying so hard
For so many years
To be a better me
Oct 10, 2017
Oct 10, 2017 at 8:21 PM UTC
That moment you know someone is doing bad
Eventually the caught up and might drag you into the drama.
In and out of the circle time and time again I honestly don't care to be involved anymore.
Most of the time it's yelling and arguing I don't have time for that!
I respect your way but its not the best way for me.
You might be pushing yourself because you want it but that has nothing to do with me ill encourage
It's up to you to get it done, my health goals are up and down! Yours go for a while then drop dead cold. Everyday I do something physical and productive.
Lift weights or take a jog to release anger and tension
I also enjoy writing it organizes my mind and gets thing set up so I could my plans into action
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 1:44 AM UTC
I am never sure
when I start to type exactly where I am going
I am not the type of writer
who
does outlines
plans
organizes my thoughts in order to create flow
nah, not me…
instead I am stuck like with lightening
one word or phrase
enters the void
and I am compelled to poet
all over all of you
thanks for the outlet –
fanciful visions play across my mind’s eye
much faster than ever I could six finger type
so I pick the bright ones
and try to explain them
in universal terms
so as to create an emotional response
I feel that if something strikes me emotionally
it is bound to reach someone else
thus, we have a momentary connection
fleeting
but real
we share ourselves through relation to black and white
esoterically joining in a perfect union
our mental images intertwined
embracing –
words fade to white screen as the moment passes
never again to be found
in the same way
each reading bringing different ideas to the forefront
each writing another attempt to rid myself of this plague
each moment lasting forever on separate planes of existence
which means all of you
belong to me
as least for this time –
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC
The homeless why do they have to freeze out there on the cold streets?
Why do they need to starve ? Why isn't there more organizes out to help them? The government and others are spending money on things that don't need to be done every human life is important well to me. People turn their backs on them way too quick to judge as well. Don't they know they have feelings too? They hurt and struggle who knows what their stories are. Instead of judging take some time to help or just to listen. How do I know how they feel once upon a time I was homeless for a long time.
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 12:52 PM UTC