"overbooked" poems
Oh sleepless night
What a trick on me you play!
For the reason I cannot sleep
Is because I anticipate the day
We build our day up
To have it elapse at night
But how too often a time I experience
A continuance through the night
Oh how unfair to me you see
For nighttime is a break much overlooked
Because I walk through the day quite sleepily
Which is difficult in a day so overbooked
Sleeping figures
Rejuvenating minds
Your mind is cultivating in peace
While my face is forming lines
Oh how I wish I didn’t get so worked up
I expected this to happen
Which ironically is the reason
My tiredness has been dampened
I lay in bed, ready
Ready to try this out
A pleasant sleep is all I wanted
Without completely passing out
How I get so jealous when
You lay there and drift to rest
While I’m dealing with two polar issues--
Either abruptly collapse into sleep or else from it slowly digress
Oh sleepless night, you tease me so
You fool with me and upset me so
For when thinking of tomorrow I surely know
I’m not going to be as lively as my potential.
It’s like I’m a hobo on Fifth Ave
Looking at the rich not realizing what they have
I get excited over spare change
While you collect your pay checks again and again
So let’s face it, tomorrow I’ll be miserable
And I’ll look forward to when the clock strikes night
But then the hours I have will become considerable
So I’ll lay there restlessly and drift away just before the light.
So I’ll get a taste of what sleeps like
But I’ll never get to experience it right.
Oh you cruel, mean sleepless night!
Where dwells your brother so known as the “Goodnight”?
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC
Concealed depression is
Buying water proof mascara
So you won't have to reapply makeup
after each daily breakdown.
Concealed depression is
Laughing at everything
so they won't question
why your eyes always water.
Concealed depression is
staying up until 4 a.m
because it's the only time
you can ignore the world
and no one will notice.
...Or concealed depression is
taking three melatonins
in hopes you'll sleep deep
enough to keep the terrors at bay.
Concealed depression is
Staying consistently busy
So your mind will be too exhausted
at the end of the day to fight you.
Concealed depression is
the impatient selfish monster
that burns bridges as you cross them.
Concealed depression is
feeding yourself lies like
"I'm fine" or "I won't cry".
Concealed depression is
the uphill battle that you don't get to win once;
it's a mountain you're forced to climb every single day.
Concealed depression is
silently screaming, hoping someone
will have super sonic hearing,
swoop in like a bat,
and carry you under their wings.
Concealed depression is
never hugging too tightly
or meeting a gaze too intensely
in case your guts may slip
out before you can catch them.
So when they accuse you of changing,
when they accuse you of rage and indifference,
of violence and apathy,
when they ask why you never called,
when they ask why you never told them,
all you can say is that concealed depression
is like an overbooked hotel and there's only room for one.
All you can say is that you were afraid
Your darkness would drown them too
and then there would be no one left to save you.
Jul 21, 2017
Jul 21, 2017 at 2:52 AM UTC
The motions--
We're going through emotions (right?)
'Cuz there's not a better thing
to do on Sunday
night. This place has lost
religion
ritualistically
And I think, realistically, it's time to do
the same
Overbooked, yet, overlooked
And on the hook for debts
outstanding
But you commanded my attention
So stay unstained
I've been attaining second chances
for unforeseen circumstances
So I'll drum if you keep dancing
Just stay unstained
Intentions--
Can undergo declension
Yours and Mine are genitive
on dative Friday
nights. Some folks can lose
their vision
visionarily
So I'd say, cautionarily, "forget to do
the same."
Aptitude for rectitude:
That may be shrewd, and yet--
while prudent
Rings no bells 'til midnight chimes out one
more mortal year
Afeared, I fear, ad mortum. But we
just keep pounding on pulsing heads
So let's drum on; keep on dancing--
Remain unstained.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 7:08 PM UTC
It's the reality
you're sipping
when you should be
gripping
the unknown
the universal
telephone
the wind me up
and go home
toy
they employ
the nights
staring out a window
into the void
that's not choice
it's called life
and if you don't
like it
leave it
but where to go
who would know
anyway
where would you go
what would you say
where to stay
a needle in the hay
and they'd never look
one second
of one day
because
the **** they give
is all one way
there's no round trip
tickets at this station
it's the amalgamation
of frustration
and surrender
there's no tender
way to say this
but the dream
you bought a ticket to
was overbooked
you overlooked
the irony of this
till now
standing with your
hand out
acid rain
melting the matinee
away
your dismay
is your parting gift
the only lift
you're getting
is the one that will
promptly drop you
further away
from where you wanted
to be
so you see
forget the thumb
just turn the other way
and walk
till the lights
make lemonade
with the sun
leave the myth
of fun
for the young
and find
a ladder
to another world
cause this one's
dying
the airplanes
stopped flying
the birds are dinosaurs
in a plastic museum
a cosmic trash can
in a rest stop in space
the stars know more about you
than you were ever shown
it's written in the ...
well,
you know
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 8:04 PM UTC
perhaps the greatest anguish is old age to be confined in earthly suit of shriveled skin aching bones constrained by ever-thinning breath with no escape but hope of death
1
OLD MAN (cantankerously) why is it taking so long
DEATH i’m very busy right now my associate overbooked and i’m swamped with appointments
OLD MAN you’re telling me it’s your associate’s fault
DEATH who could of seen this coming
OLD MAN don’t you plan ahead
DEATH calm down old age relies on wisdom and patience
OLD MAN easy for you to say you’ve got eternity
DEATH i’ve got another caller may i please put you on hold
OLD MAN no! this is unfair i’ve pondered drifting away for years now i’m hurting bad and need your attention hello?
DEATH this is a recording if you would like to know your balance press 1 if you would like to transfer funds press 2 if you need to speak to a representative please hold (slow polka music begins)
OLD MAN **** you (pounds fist on bed surface)
2
OLD WOMAN i was once a dazzling beauty i could have any man i wanted i still look good for my age but i can’t get my table server’s attention i’m sick of this disrespect i want to speak to the manager
DEATH how can i help you
OLD WOMAN i’ve been coming here for years this is no way to be treated get me a menu and ***** on the rocks
DEATH please accept my apologies Madame but there is no ***** no menu
OLD WOMAN don’t you get smart with me
DEATH may i offer you a complimentary last breath
OLD WOMAN fine whatever (her crooked fingers wring napkin then straighten fold it on lap) i knew your mother and father they would never let you get away with this
DEATH you may be mistaking me for someone else
OLD WOMAN look at you with that judgmental glare in your eyes you think i don’t know what you’re up to
DEATH i’m here to serve you
OLD WOMAN that’s right now get me a menu and ***** on the rocks
DEATH i’ll see what i can do
Feb 24, 2011
Feb 24, 2011 at 5:40 AM UTC
I see the way she see's you, but i don't understand
Everything you do, giving your all, asking for guidance; afraid of the fall
Such harsh words, such meaningless looks; so strange because with all the good things i have to say about you i could fill books
Unappreciated, Overlooked; I think her life with you in it is overbooked
She wants your everything including your all, but i so often see how she can make you feel so small
Such a brilliant mind, and such sweet eyes, i always enjoy our lingering goodbyes
I hope you don't feel stuck, i really hope you're in love
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 3:57 PM UTC
*
***Things imperfect,
Tells a story perfect!
&
Things overlooked
For my poetry overbooked!!***
*
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 1:32 PM UTC
Learned more from this pain than i ever did from a church.
Listening to your gut but make sure you detox it first.
**** be killin me softly, leave me in a Hearse,
Never a good thing when i hear from you first.
Be careful what you see,
even salt look like sugar,
Maturity is not throwing salt when you know you could've,
And not smackin ******* when you know you should've.
People Be like "oh i miss you"
**** i miss me too.
Had to use these teflon tissues to get me thru,
You not alone, **** i wanna be with me too,
Deadass On some days , smiles were too good to be true.
I be business minded when i be minding my business.
And ****** be ******* and ******* be on some ***** ****
Overcame this novocain,
Recasted the impression of depression,
Ring around the rosary,
Never relying on religion.
Im from a home of funny bones
And My elbows been ashy,
I knew It would take more than macaroni art to kraft me,
And i been itching for this platform
If you ask me,
I used to wonder if i was a real person.
I used to wonder like what's my real purpose?
When i was young ,I taught my shadow to stick to my toes,
When lifes a battle, I fought to stick to mottos.
As a poet i never looked at it this way,
I never booked myself for this reading.
I was overbooked.
I bookmarked my favorite moments ,
I been forever overlooked.
And never understood what "more" ment,
I been overcooked.
The preheating of this season left me bleeding.
This farenheit left me heavy breathin
No fear of heights but Excuse me while I fall from
- grace -
me with your presence and
These broken promises,
Never been transparent to this degree,
Had to leave that monster house.
That was my American horror story.
I used to be couped up,
Had to tell double d to get outta my laboratory,
See mfs want my jazz but not my blues,
They Wanna be in my class but aint payed they dues,
Yall be Morally incorrect,
....More or less...
Lately i been Moralless,
Need to get saved no church bells ,
Put me on the zach Morris list,
These rhymes be like my confessions,
Front row seat to my ascension,
Carry out this life to which we've been sentenced,
Delivery me from evil - with even more incentives,
I dream in MLA format.
Double spaced a letter to my younger self,
Just some **** I wish i told the older me
A ***** laundry list of things I thought ought to be owed to me,
My OCD be blowin me,
Need all my ducks in a row,
My prolonged silence been leading this Crescendo,
Im not playing NO GAMES, fuxk you and your Nintendo.
Mar 10, 2021
Mar 10, 2021 at 10:00 PM UTC
Reading a book in the sun
can get you so absorbed in
what you're reading
that when you look up
it's as if everything around you
were new.
You're staring at yourself
For the first time wondering:
Is that really me?
Is this my life?
Surely not.
I belong in this book.
I suppose that's what
happened
to Don Quixote.
May 19, 2012
May 19, 2012 at 8:56 AM UTC
Chimneys and chimneys of thoughts
expel to the saturated atmosphere
tension and discomfort
that poison the factory workers with fear
to cut the flow of oneiric smoke
and interact.
Imprisoned inside the glass and metal fence,
pushing away petrous gargoyles,
the overbooked air, thick and dense,
expands as pressure rises
with too much thinking
and too little talking.
But the doors open and there's a leak
as the seats their captors release,
some of who, immersed in their abstraction,
forget that's time for the sentence to cease
while the subconscious arises.
Only when the mind gears stop and leave,
leaving emptiness in the wagons,
so does the tangible machinery
and the train rests, peacefully,
at the end of the line.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 11:48 AM UTC
Like a kid in a candy store
I was loading up big
Filling arms and hands
'Till nothing else fit
But up at the counter
They gave me the bad news
The price was work and time
And I was overbooked
So I pushed aside the pile
And picked up one tiny thing
Hoping it was worth the price
Of all my other dreams
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 7:23 PM UTC
You still don’t understand where I belong
Overbooked
Overextended
Overcommitted
Lady, hear me tonight
I wish i was twirling in love with you
I'm still trying to get over the concept
That our love will never be enough
Poetry is justifying everything
That I want to leave behind
Don't do this to me
Again,
Jul 31, 2019
Jul 31, 2019 at 11:03 AM UTC
How could I want the art of poetry to be dominantly white and male?
There's way too female poets of color and white female poets that ate much better than I
I couldn't live peacefully in the old days with that being apparent
My intentions are transparent
I think women are better with their words
I'm just an intimidator I feel
But it only takes one for these lines to congeal
Art is a three course meal
And it should not be overlooked
She fills up my stadiums and gets them overbooked
How could I want poetry to be white and male?
The elitist mindset is *******
There's far too many female poets who deserve a trophy of gold
And their hearts to heal.
And there's also too many male poets who don't deserve the image of elitism.
Nov 30, 2017
Nov 30, 2017 at 1:55 AM UTC
Not easy not at all
I try to forget
You creep into my mind
How do you get in
I erase again
Locked tight
Move on
But ****** to hell
Here you come again
I swear god ******
Stop quit
Go to hell
But do not stop here
Not welcome
Hello overbooked
© Jennifer Delong 6/17/18
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 4:30 AM UTC
Wilbur and Orville Wright,
Two men for a one man flight.
This fact should not be overlooked
Man's first flight was overbooked .
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 11:50 AM UTC
_Yeah_... I’ll be the reflection of one’s depression – to hotspot their
emotions, for the ones that lack real expression. I am a weapon by
the impression of my pen; I demand __love and attention__ – so ****
possessive; these words are my greatest possession.
My mind… my mind is just a book, and I feel so overbooked.
And the dreams in my eyes are overlooked, while I dream about
my death knowing it’s never too good. _But we feel so misunderstood_ –
hoping not to leave pieces of ourselves. Life dares to cut me down
like a tree, and sometimes I wish it would.
I’m two doors swinging in the milestones of a lonely road. I threw
my rocks at my reflections – their irregular metre, is such an ugly
ode. Still if I reflect other's depression; I’ll transport it around the
globe, and carry their load.
I am their depression to be showed. Yeah, we're depressed, but I
doubt a lot of you would really know!
Feb 2, 2025
Feb 2, 2025 at 5:43 PM UTC