"overcrowding" poems
I show the world my flowers,
daisies flowing from my fingertips,
smiling with the brightness of tulips,
and leaving a trail of poppy footprints
with each step I take.
I present this spring-themed Monet masterpiece,
careful to conceal the chaotic overcrowding
pushing, building pressure beneath the surface.
This rootbound torture belies the floral illusion,
and if you peer closely at the pretty pastels,
you'll see they're nothing more than
brush strokes and broken hopes.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 7:34 PM UTC
Oakes-photo, hypocrisy and flagrant mirky plateau. Brimming celestial warrants overcrowding public housing systems. North-South lights, sell costly iPhone Apps; and then there are Social Societies of non-verbal delight. Password protected non-profitable and over-costly educations of no reward or biblical synonyms. Catastrophizing hash-tag dot.com. Weary party going poster children with glowing anemone guts, fruity looped cantlings, ravenous scattered supper clubbed coughing up ******* on their strange and central affairs unit. Overcome the candisation and sugary affairs of any of the ***** and pops that erstwhile matter less and less. We are speaking of nomenclatures that don't arise. Promises and by which confession aloof romanticizes every Tom dicking Mary that carries the theory of sustainable energy, prussian blue, and irregular browsing.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:46 AM UTC
Rose petals thick and heavy
Just ready to wrinkle
Strong, firm, delicate
Simple
Feigning delicacy.
Tighter and tighter to their middle
Lips curling back
Pouting open
All eventually revealing the
Veins!
Veins
Veins
Veins on the roses
From the underside spread upward,
Uncurled,
Veins.
Some so proud and broad
Some coy and curtseying
Some wide open, greeting you.
——
Some angling to the light
——
Some fading their color at the tip
——
Some!
Some doubling inward. Two twists inside!
Why? Overcrowding.
Petals wide,
petals too ready, petals broad
And she made herself a lover
——
Some older, wiser
By quicker death wisdom grows
The peaked face within
Afraid
Afraid of what is coming faster for her.
Something her beauty could not slow
An aging ballerina, refusing to retire her slippers
——
Some wider
More careless
Hippies
——
Some like a dance
Such a vulnerable entrance
Opening up her lips, her arms, her legs,
Spouting out her tiny tongue
Aroused
——
Some so full
Hiding herself in her layers
More of her.
Ancient.
Just a blip.
Trimmed from their bush. Here to die in a vase by my bed.
Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 11:08 PM UTC
Being alone and being lonely are two different things
Feeling alone or feeling lonely are two different things too
Alone, meaning no one is around
Feeling alone means there's people all around, but in you mind, heart, and soul you're all alone inside
Lonely, meaning you're single and searching
Feeling lonely means you're always alone, no matter the place or people
Alone
Or
Lonely?
I am both
I feel alone and I am alone
I feel lonely and I am lonely
My soul is cold and empty
But my body is warm and full
My body is heavy
And my spirit heavier
My mind the storm and my heart the war
Will it ever end?
The overcrowding loneliness and the loud silence that comes with it
Or the feeling that I'm alone
I cry
I mourn
But what am I crying for?
What am I mourning?
Am I crying for death to take me?
So that he can warm my soul and unburden my spirit?
Am I mourning the life I'm living?
Am I mourning the future I think I'll have?
Am I mourning that death doesn't want me, or that he doesn't love me the way I love him?
Am I crying and mourning the deep thirst I have for him?
I think I am
And I'm not sure if I'll ever get over him, or stop wanting him
He was my only solace except writing
He was the only thing I thought I could control
But I don't
He controls it
He decides whether to push me away or to bring me closer
This burden I carry
It breaks me a little each time I feel I should die
Why haven't I died? I think
I should be dead. Someone else who deserves to live should have the rest of my years.
I always think this
Then I think of others
The pain ebbs, but still flows much more greatly later, when I'm thinking too much, feeling too much
Am I alone or lonely?
I think I'm both
And as I said in one of my last poems: Am I trash or golden?
I'm not sure
Am I trash because I'm too broken, or am I golden because I'm broken in a beautiful way?
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
Man wants the pistol fully loaded.
He wants the cool brushed steal,
the soft worn wood, the capacity for death.
Fearful of overcrowding - death loads a blank. A ***** with no ammo.
No power over life or strength in death.
All this I needn't worry; I favour the knife.
Life pours icy smoke from chalice lips
Coloured with the flag of every nation.
Daren't a silver bangle fall tearfully to the pistol - barrel in mouth, I fear no evil.
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 3:38 AM UTC
In silence I only hear my thoughts
The overcrowding of voices in my brain
The overwhelming rush of blood in my veins
I breathe deep
In silence I only hear your voice
Echoing in my head
The overcrowding feelings
Coat my heart in cement
And in the darkness I only see your memory
A faint light tethered to my heart
Beating in accordance to yours
Which used to beat alongside mine
And we were dreamers in the night
With wide ambitions and future sight
And now we're silent screamers
We're locked away
With so many opinions
and so much to say
yet my mouth is sewed shut
By the voices that play on repeat inside my head
they play and play and play and...
In the silence all I hear is you
In the silence which has become so loud
I feel lost inside this imaginary crowd
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 10:06 PM UTC
Are your eyes open to what is going on
our country is being brought to it's knees
as housing shortfalls and higher taxes
and the influx of emigrants and refugees
Oh this politically inept government
are now overcrowding the streets of London
pushing people out of their long term homes
we have no choice now, something must be done
So we will do what we do best and incite rebellion
we need to turn our country upside down
bring all to account that have put us where we are today
those insipid ****** who wear the usurpers crown
We need to take our beloved country back
no more hiding in dark comers, it's time for us to attack
we must get the backing of our armies and more
there is no longer a choice left, but a new civil war
The war will be bitter and ******
yet there is no gain without pain
our hands will be blooded and cold
as all in this alliance do make heads roll
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 4:36 PM UTC
Lawmen oversee the old day's hanging's,
Exit signs designed only for those who wear worn out tennis shoes,
Conquered,
Overcrowding as if only cattle can fit through!!!!
No salt nor pepper to design creation meals of home,
Fall is near,
Plumbings far to clogged,
Days passeth night,
As night begins to freight!!!
Wolves on the outside trade fur's with ferrel dogs!!!
Clenching of teeth siren off as oven's they bake,
They brew,
Country town folk with rod and ungodly staff they overtaketh and rule!!!!
Crises of all temptation,
Bleeders to readers,
****** deviants get out to put down their own indignations!!!
Desire all thou wilt,
Desiree's,
Empathies,
Chalkers, scoffers , doctors of deaths pill!!!
Read on,
Read on uneducated pillar,
For thy hooks art thy scrolls,
Thy eyeglasses maketh thou gnomes of such readings to bring thou thrillers!!!!!!
Fragrant destiny resistant to all microbial force,
Accusation's humbling,
Sovereignty is a mystery to us mortals!!!!
Dragon's slayed to stature founder's ditches of war dug out of centurion portals,
Wreaking architecture drawn out of mapped whirlpools lies,
Some groweth deathly,
Sweet talkers are refusing to trust their own worried minds!!!!
Black coated tuxedoed hosts delighting their own escapes,
Some window's stay open,
Some stay closed in the fortress,
This inescapable place!!!!!!
Tis,
This human landfill,
Dump,
Waste!!!!
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 10:06 AM UTC
this dream i’ve been having
everyday when i wake up
the sun spreads fluorescent rays around me
i get blinded by sincerity
that you’ve made up
and let spill from your mouth from overcrowding
i drink all the sweat
from your soothing skin
and get stuck in this trap i got myself in
then i lie with you
under a blanket of dreams
and it disappears like all i’ve ever been
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 7:20 PM UTC
Things are real heavy weighing on my chest, try to breathe real deep, but can't even take a breath. Thoughts and possibilities are overcrowding my mind, baby mama moved out and my ***** might be doin time. It's hard to keep a smile in a life full of frowns, but happiness is contagious, so I guess that's why it takes the crown! It gives us a purpose, and a reason to thrive, gives us motivation with the option to strive, but that's just it, an option, a possible reality or maybe just another mental concoction. How do we differentiate reality from fiction, well that's the question of life although it's a synonym of affliction. It's death with a positive spin, it's doin bad, while keepin a grin. Life is a learnin lesson disguised in a blessin.
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
He brought out the worst in me
Cruel actions and words his weapons
Ones he kept well oiled for use
Every syllable spoken in perfection
Hitting the bullseye of my patience
Bursting out a fury I long kept hidden
With a marksmen’s skills he teased out
Anger overcrowding my being like rain clouds
Bringing heavy showers of unrealistic vows
A wild gust of cruel decisions sweeping sanity away
He welcomed this flood with manic laughter
He brought out the worst in me
But
I still loved his soul
Though how cruel and selfish it truly was
Blinded by ancient kind actions
I skipped over the puddles of each storm
Hopping towards our reconciliation island
Hoping always for the sun to break out
Foolishly falling for the momentary calm
Putting the rest the rage and reality
Losing my fingers in the cords of us
Reattaching the damaged strings of trust
Dreaming of an ideality…..Us
But the truth broke in easily
In the finality of us
All that remained was nothing
An infinite of emptiness to run away from
Before it’s long tentacles pulled me in
Grief slithering into my heart
Taking full control of a shattered soul
A breathing living body
Now turned into a shell of nothingness
With sharp fingers I cut out the dead
Letting the ****** mess taint me
Until I let go with a sigh
Dusting away my disappointment
I got up
And walked away
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 3:57 PM UTC
then my voice be heard among the night's rains
of sparrows singing the next oxford dictionary,
perhaps, but sooner you will hear
that no unconscious fabric delves so easily into narcissism
for ego-centric exhibitions: learn that dreams are not
ego-centric exhibitions but ego-centric inhibitions,
thus you will walk a mile undo the pluralism of the distance
known as miles free of the dream(s)...
with two bypassing me in the arabic
tongue i ended my search... and took less of freud and more
of intrigue, part come sparing part come searching a depth of:
would fools' words delve into not speaking but utilising spoken
symbols in order to attempt speech?
i think not, for fools speak in pure verb / action
rather than think out a distinction
of nouns between
said hammer and hammering in
without the nail
of prepositioned in
thus missing prepositioned nail:
of the hammer's intention of a non-warring purpose
fulfilled: an utility heard of but not a skull of member
in two planks of wood.
- germania -
TO'H IPHST'A ***
TA SYPHTA HYPHLTA UNA!
and thence it came, in a mountainous overcrowding
like an avalanche of spirit
a hoarse calm of native tongue against the invasion,
it came,
and it came against all former eloquent hoarse screech,
who felt unnecessary to note speech
for a dire need of trust once kept now lost,
they who kept the tongue in the mouth
but not the cranium to be over-invasive
of the complexity of the brain as kept lightning
bolt as rhythm of heart
who didn't invent psychology placebo due
to the over-complication of sponge tissue...
who said trust and honour and have rather died
than politicise into old age...
who then honourable of the conquered?
only virgins peasants and old men of the crippled senate?
of what was said, as much was unsaid.
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 9:17 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Don't look,
Don't open my eyes,
inside,
I look within,
To realize,
What my whole deal is,
Lucid,
As it gets,
Take your pick,
Your the expert,
I got to leave all this behind,
Can't be like this my whole life,
Picking your poison,
And your ivy to,
Looking decent in your favorite jeans,
Worthy cannibal,
Yeah your pretty cute,
Pretty as in pretty , and as cute as the soul in you,
Look at whos...
Flirting with you,
So subliminal,
I-know-this-is-not-real,
Expl-aining-how-you-feel,
I'll-wake-up-any-minute,
Loo-sing-you is no big-deal,
Insomnia is coursing through my veins as we speak
In tongues and reminisce about the feeling of kissing
Your lips in my dream state,
Was so sweet like cheesecake,
With my knees straight,
Forward like I'm coming off as crucial to them,
My brain cells are dancing to all the track's of
Riddim,
She mind controlled me to make her lust when the
Lights were dim,
And all the other females are reality Sims.
I-know-this-is-not-real,
Expl-aining-how-you-feel,
I'll-wake-up-any-minute,
Loo-sing-you is no big-deal.
/
I find peace and solace knowing that I show
forgiveness and all that comes to me,
Lacking a lot out of life still,
Walking through the streets with my head held high
with mental illnesses,
but still,
I'm a loser and I will always remain a loser but not in Gods eyes,
moving moutains with my words and Reminiscent dreams overcrowding,
i sleep still,
Even though insomnia has me in its clutches,
thinking that the devils gonna hold my body down for practice,
hes a coward still.
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 2:02 PM UTC
Love?
Don’t say you know
All there is to know
Because you never stop learning.
You see, you listen
You touch and you fall.
But don’t say you’ve seen
The most beautiful
Or heard the perfect melody
Or felt the only hand that fits yours
Or even that you’re the one
Who’s fallen the hardest.
Don’t say it because you’ve only just started.
Love?
Don’t say you know everything
Because you’ve never felt it deep
Inside your soul.
You’ve never had your pupils dilated
At the sight of something you want
Or the chills taking over your skin
At the sound of its voice.
You have yet to feel
The overcrowding of butterflies
Inside your stomach
And the weakness in your feet
And the trembling in your hands
And the heart refusing to calm down.
Love?
Don’t say you’ve already met it
Because if you did it would still be here
It would still be yours
It would have never left.
Love?
Don’t say you know everything
Because we’ve only just begun.
Don’t say you have felt it
Because the best is yet to come.
Don’t say that you’ve seen it
Because your eyes don’t know what they’re missing.
Love?
It’s only on its way.
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 11:55 PM UTC
So you got yourself a gun
Tell me something son
What do you think life will bring
That requires that kind of "protection"
So you got yourself a gun
What could occur
That will result in cold steel and hot lead
Creating burning pain and decaying flesh
Bodies overcrowding hospital beds
So you got yourself a gun
For hunting the less intelligent for sport
To hang pelts on your mantle
To brag about conquest as frivolous as the wax from a melted candle
So you got yourself a gun... What were you thinking of?
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 9:46 AM UTC
Lyrics sink into my memory
Beat, into my heart,
Music, into my soul.
They stay with me uninvited
They mock me when I’m scared,
And torture me when I’m confused
Blocking out my worries
No matter how important they seems
They scream at the top of their voice
Without missing any dime of the track
Lyrics lures my mind into a lazy reputation
Sinking me deep, deep down into its ocean of scented water
Beats compels me to listen to the rhythmical sound behind the beat
Transporting me far beyond what I behold
Music dazzles the image in my mind causing them to multiply in tons
Thereby overcrowding my brain with maze of mystical ideas
Making it hard to marge up the mystical master piece.
Lyric steals my breath away
Music makes me lose my sanity
lyrics, Beats and Music makes me stop in my track,
And listen over and over again!...
Ah!... how I wish Al-Fruqon will have the same wonderful eff
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 4:18 AM UTC
The walrus lacks
a rudimentary understanding
of the relationship
between seasonal temperatures
and the amount of sea ice
generated annually
in the northern hemisphere,
and cannot formulate
even a basic hypothesis
that might draw a link between
the lack of sea ice and
a massive surge in coastal overcrowding
among those of his own kind.
Nor could we expect the walrus
to comprehend that
this overcrowding has become so severe that
many walruses are continually driven
to seek out higher and higher ground,
and may suddenly find themselves
precariously perched atop the tall, frozen, rocky cliffs
of the Russian arctic coast,
hundreds of meters above the sea,
as their pinniped flippers
lose traction, and the rocks and gravel
beneath them give way
under their considerable bulk.
It would be a bridge too far
for us to expect
that the walrus might understand
the anatomy of even his own eye
such that he would know
that the curvature of its lens
is well-suited for underwater vision,
but is, in fact, maladapted
for making spatial judgements
while on land.
And yet,
we are aware of all of these things,
of this horrifying confluence of circumstances
for which we’re at least partly to blame,
and from which the walrus
now finds himself unable to escape.
And we watch it all unfold silently,
so passively:
those hulking ruins
as they tumble down
the cliff faces,
one by one,
wild-eyed,
terrified,
bewildered and breaking
in their final moments.
Apr 18, 2019
Apr 18, 2019 at 3:14 AM UTC
The love between was escaping into
clogged gutters, each drilling sound
a shattered sound crumbling in fallen
syllables, a dangerous wave of
accelerations gone astray.
The stark sun that used to shine
inside our bedroom window was
slowly backing away into closed
infinities, gridlocked gates, a chamber
of backdrop kingdoms.
The scattered dishes overcrowding
the sink were filled with pain, lingering
in abandoned dreams, as I stared at
their smeared appearance, damaging
reflections driven stone cold grey.
Burnt picture frames hung in a cell of
confined chains, drenched dungeons,
crouched corners, an empty existence
wrinkled and strained. My heart was
frozen underground and shoveled,
stripped and scraped, a dragging
depiction like an old man, like
a slow ticking clock, like weather-beaten
tires.
I could see the blackened trees beating
against the windowsill, a smashed
soul growing numb in dull hours,
hopeless innocence, ghostly planes
of hazy boulevards, rusted bitten
leaves turning pale, as I stepped
towards the kitchen sink, my hands
pressed against the surface of the glass,
embracing the rotating rhythms of
bone breaking beats.
Dec 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018 at 1:20 AM UTC
The first hummingbird,
The usual melee forestalled.
Long sips of nectar.
Others will come frequently,
Overcrowding the feeder.
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 11:58 AM UTC
We arrived
at Zeebrugge
then drove to
our first
base camp
at Bruges
only to find
our tents
were not there
so we slept
in a caravan
over night
in cramped conditions.
In the morning
I was up first
so walked
to the nearest shop
and bought a small loaf.
I nibbled it
on the way back.
I was the first one in
the cafe
had a coffee
and croissants.
The girl Dalya came in
and sat at my table
she had ordered
the same.
She complained
about the caravan
and overcrowding.
I listened
as she moaned
and lit her a cigarette.
We sat talking
and smoking
until the other members
of our group came in
each one was moaning
to our guide
and driver.
He explained
about the reason
said we'd get
a discount from
our overall charges.
Then our tents arrived
we loaded them up
on top of our mini bus
and set off
through Belgium.
I sat next to Dalya
and the Aussie guy
who said little
but gave her
the smile and the eye.
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 2:33 AM UTC
Sunday,
Ants overcrowding a timber.
The timber gasping for breath..
.
Monday,
Rock inches a bit.
The vapor of light shines around.
.
Tuesday.
Belle awaits ninth evening to dance on ice.
Silence engulfed.
The Barber of Seville abandoned his play.
.
Wednesday,
Gulls hanging in the wind.
Staring at the waves
and ignoring my fishes lined the barbecue grill.
.
Thursday
The nightingale just escaped from its cage
So obsessed by liberty
It forget about warbling
and faded like chuckling far away.
.
Friday
Indifference lazy
Invoke piety
and yawns ..
.
Saturday.
The lark motivated.
Weddings blares from every direction fields.
The lark stiffs in confusion.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 6:01 PM UTC
Everything's a lie, everything.
Things are coming to light.
they cant hide it anymore.
Too much information can be exchanged
with little to no effort.
They went to the Moon but threw away the data.
They're driving teslas in space and expect you to believe it.
You're called crazy for questioning their claims.
Everything they teach us is wrong
Everything we thought we knew means nothing at all.
We are born of lies and
die believing in them.
Giants Dragons Titans
Silicone Conduits Straight to the Heavens.
Evidence all lay in stone.
I tried to tell them and they thought I was crazy.
Energy is free and there is truly
nothing new under the Sun.
Airlines charge you for fuel they don't use.
Everything should be free like the energy the
Spires and the Sky Scrapers
gather ,while we dig for coal and bleed.
There should be no homeless anywhere unless that's how they want to be.
Prove to me we are spinning and
I'll speak of the plain no more.
The curses and the man made disease.
Half these things we never need.
There's no such thing as too many people.
Overcrowding what?
Nobody truly knows how much land
there is still unseen.
They made so many of our lives so hard.
Everyone for a very long time
we've all missed out on so much.
The survivors of the Deluge what few there were to be.
Made an oath to keep the knowledge their secret.
They spread out across their new world to rule us.
Those who came after the flood and who knew nothing of the teachings of old.
Good little workers ,consumers that's all we will ever be.
I want something more on my headstone besides
"He was good worker"
" He loved his job"
We've been given so very little
of what was meant for us all to enjoy .
There's no time for the arts.
No time to create, to enjoy
to truly know what gifts he left for all of us .
The Golden Age they had it, they lived it.
Then they blew it just like we are now.
Except we've never known any other
way that's better than this.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 7:50 PM UTC
Lights lights lights everywhere
Smiles lighting up every face
Cheers rolling out every moment
Love pouring out every heart
Peace overcrowding every atom
Making room for only happiness
Everything else forgotten
True celebration
Oct 12, 2024
Oct 12, 2024 at 8:53 AM UTC
The seasons south west
Are predictably reliable
When it's winter, it is as cold to behold
The east coasts' persisting twisters
Or the northern snows and lights
But our summers are best
In California at night
Spring has blown in
This seventeenth year, two thousand
And the weather has turned
Cruel the natives fear climactic
Warmer burns the sun
Overcrowding natural wellsprings
Truth deflecting beach volleyball fun
I think we're almost done...
*(And I have yet to experience
The joy of creation
By the earth I stand on
By traveling some)*
And the universe must be balanced
I fear that justice must do harm
To rectify our crimes
Lo and behold...
What wicked this way comes
Our times
Wasted to have undone...
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 3:01 PM UTC