"overdo" poems
We either become sadder
Or our heart beats become louder
My heart,
My heart is eating so fast my bones are tingling
Vibrating through my veins
My blood stream is failing
I think too much
I don’t pray enough
Lost touch with the angels
The angels lost me
Forgetting this
Words are words by choice
Awkwardly complicated
Passionate souls intertwined in chaos
Beautiful chaos
My hands are shaking, they can’t stand still
I overdo it with coffee, I over did it.
Can’t handle my life sober
So much ****** up **** in the world
Smart people seem like crazy people to dumb people
And if you believe you can change the world
You’re one of a kind.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
There's only so much you could do,
Don't go against your own limit,
Doesn't push yourself, don't overdo,
Your wellbeing is more important.
Your wellbeing is more important.
~A.d |14 Feb 2015
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
I wanna see the blood
I wanna see the pain
I wanna prove that my body
Is nothing more than a frame
My mind is screaming
Parts of it beg me to bleed
The others demonize those pleas
I just don't want to feel this way anymore
And I suppose it's my own fault
I know how I get
When I start drinking then stop
Maybe that's why I always overdo it
Because then I can get sick and sleep
Before this depression takes its hold
And sets my demons free
Digging and clawing at my mind
Until I do the same to my own skin
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 12:39 AM UTC
*
HAIKU 1
All that comes to net
are fish; either golden or silver color;
Fishermen are rich at heart!
*
_____________________________________
*
HAIKU 2
Action speaks louder than words;
Be practical; stop wasting your precious time
Life is full of hazards!
_____________________________________
HAIKU 3
You are naturally beautiful; cheerful,
a sight for my eyes to hold ;
Will you allow kissing!
_____________________________________
HAIKU 4
While on visit to temples,
I imagine you as my own Goddess:
I become your only follower!
_____________________________________
HAIKU 5
Few ***** drinks before dinner;
But sometimes, I overdo it at weekends!
A Hangover next day morning.
_____________________________________
*
**
BY
Williamsji Maveli
[email protected]
**
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 3:10 AM UTC
I have an aunt,
but she's more like a best friend,
we're more alike than all my friends,
more alike than family even.
We have similar phases,
she helps me through,
she's my godmother,
I love her,
it's true.
She is relaxed,
she puts things in perspective,
her children are god-sent,
her husband a saint.
Her spirit is sweet,
not unlike my mother,
with sacred things she is devout,
but does not overdo.
Her house is a second home,
a refuge from the storm clouds,
that brew in my head,
for that I thank her,
for all that she's said.
I love you AJ,
despite the fact that sometimes life is hard,
I'm glad that you're my aunt,
my eternal friend.
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 2:31 AM UTC
.... it's normal...maybe it's not,
maybe, i overdo it....yet, i still do it...
i always think of things to come
...at day time....even late nights,
thinking too much of my children
my children's children...i must always
be there...for when they need help...
i worry too about my siblings
i even think of my siblings' brood
my dear friends and their worries
...thinking how i can help them...
later, i get weary....fed up at times,
exhausted from worrying, wondering
how i could offer even a bit of a remedy
especially when they are too far to be
touched warmly...or, my hands are tied,
....or, not that long to reach out...
i realize before long...i am not alone
decidedly, i refuse to be solaced
by the thought, that my worries
could just be pebbles...not rocks...
i musn't compare at all....
(excerpts from an old posted poem...edited)
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 4:46 AM UTC
The time we ran out of,
The water that ran past this riverbank,
The opportunity for letting go,
The exit left behind...
All choices, all roads not taken are forgotten
Where did the forgotten things go
Is there a way to get to them again?
*Could I wish for a rewind?
**I want a redo
An overdo***
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
It seems all i can get high on now is cigarettes,
sitting in the bathroom,
alone
it’s kind of sad
i cant even get high on alcohol
maybe if i overdo it
and even then i dont’ have any fun
i miss you
and getting high
simply on life and oxygen
and each other
when we meet
shall we dance
or shall we ****
or shall we **** and dance
a sublime melding of body and music
surreal
like cigarette smoke in the bathroom mirror
will you let me lead
to heaven
to hell
through the valley of death
through the shadow of light
i will be your angel of death
or love
or light
whatever you ask of me i will give
or do
or be
except being an eternity from you
the creeping cold
the moon madness
searching for a face in the stars
yet not knowing who I search for
then finally staring at the stars
at the shadow of light
at the valley of death
like smoke in a mirror
ethereal
body and music divided
**** and dance
****
dance
final meeting
life is oxygen
final "high"
one last cigarette
kind of sad
alone
in the bathroom
damn.....why can’t i get high.
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 7:08 AM UTC
we had to **** many animals. my father, every month, cursed a pig its lack of horns and cursed the out-of-town buying of dogs. I took my sister once into the basement. I blindfolded her with a black sock and told her careful there’s a pin in your hand. mother would come from that basement pulling at her shirt and I’d nip it at the neckhole with my teeth and I could feel each nerve around them firing. the whole of our ordeal was indeed terrible but people would talk as if they knew what they’d do or knew what they’d not. talk as if they’d know it if they saw. it come up for awhile and tried to live with us and I can’t say it wasn’t nice having something to put your finger on that wouldn’t thieve your sins. I fed to it lemonheads and it seemed happy but even I admit one can overdo it on the lemonheads. it was father made it go back in the basement because he’d tired of telling people it was his brother and pretty soon his real brother would be coming to visit. was a visit would last the length of his brother’s life but we didn’t know it then. the devil went its own way at some point during my uncle moving in. we were all of us pretty clumsy and it could’ve been the noise we made. I remember being grateful for my uncle’s heart of gold and how he wouldn’t accept our apologies saying it’s just a bunch of stuff I don’t even know I have.
Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 4:56 PM UTC
**The young people have exalted notions, because they have not been humbled by life or learned its necessary limitations; moreover, their hopeful disposition makes them think themselves as equal to great things and that means having exalted notions.
They would always rather do noble deed than useful ones. Their lives are regulated more by moral feeling than by reasoning all their mistakes are in the direction of doing things excessively and vehemently. They overdo everything they love too much hate too much and the same with everything else. (Aristotle)**
The Hereford cattles talk quietly among themselves
The commute home on the B train was noisier than ever
The passenger beside them youth squirmed and frigid
Youth of today is selfish and only think of themselves
If you asked for a passed, they will give you a laugh
If the elderly asked for the seat, they will give it to
Their backpacks, and scream louder, old geeks
Discipline, like if it’s outdated: no structure
A lost generation without stability:
A dark history, I lay awake and wonder
How can we fix this? Problem, problem
And more problem heading their way
While in the field the Hereford cattle
talk quietly among themselves
Nursing their calf without being asked of their mothers
to cover up their babies faces:
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 6:44 PM UTC
Dont be pressured
Dont just go a long with the crowd
Dont dress just to impress
Dont overdo your make up
Honestly her weekness makes you a ****
Dont lie to me
Dont be pressured into telling secrets about me
Dont tell people what i trusted you to keep quiet
Dont leave me in the dust when people insult you because i have stuck my neck out for you a million times on end,
Honestly, her weekness broke our friendship up
I know how to be strong
Because others weekness has caused me so much pain
I know how to be strong
because im the only one who can keep my brother on his feet during hard family troubles
I know i have to be strong or i wont be successful.
I know that in the end the week kids never make it big.
Its survival of the fittest.
May 29, 2011
May 29, 2011 at 1:24 AM UTC
*2002
Dearest Klara,
hope you enjoy
the poems as you dream to write
one poem
happy birthday*
There are still many books as though
parliament. A miscalculation based on coordinates
in a wry scene.
Two bookshelves creating a labyrinth, enough that you
are alike. Juxtaposed to scent are many words
and the day is almost done. Ignore fragments once,
but never overdo. I can outlast moonlight’s procession
into a dark cathedral by the window.
On this side – reason; the other, hesitance.
This is no heist. This is what belongingness refutes.
What willingness bandages. The absence of sentries
made for easy rapture. You slid your hand into the dusty
fort and in between them, the paperbacks ached.
“I will do it.” and after that, cursed at the farce.
Slid into your bag – you, surrounded by the tense air
of silence. A dilettante at being a fugitive. What is it that
you stole?
Your body, elsewhere. Flailing. Failing. There are still
many marvels in the scene, but says precision is key.
Cuts as if contravention. This was as calm as painting a child
in his early years, the hue of anomaly.
Quiet in amplitudes doles out a mystified sense of completion.
I can hear an ajar mouth unwind a soft humming.
It was time to go – tomorrow when we rise with no memory,
it will be all but one and the same fault together with many others,
as if your face that day and your image now
compels me the cold of a foreign city. Riddance.
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 9:12 PM UTC
(People Alone)
Maybe it's normal...maybe it's not,
maybe, i overdo it....yet, i still do it.
i always think of things to come
...at day time....even late nights,
thinking too much of my children
my children's children...my siblings
i even think of my siblings' brood
my dear friends and their worries
...thinking how i can help them.
....later, i get weary....fed up at times,
exhausted from worrying......wondering
how i could remedy even a bit....when
my hands are not that long to reach out.
...........................................
then, i think of people who live alone,
their thoughts...their predicaments.
there are those who enjoy and
progress in their solitude....then there
are those who are given no choice,
forced.......or suddenly found themselves
in that space....souls that cope with consequences,
alone at nights...while their frustrations
breathe on them...and stare back at them.
some end up too absorbed
in their own darkness.
........................................
those lovely night falls...those resplendent
moon-glowed nights, are joined...stained
by silent lamentations.....muffled cries,
yet...playing loud as thunder,
in the high open air...
.........................................
moments of hiding and seeking linger on,
they try to seek some fun,
yet, their ghosts, make them run,
whether in the dark, or under the bright sun.
weary eyelids become heavy, like those of a swan
sleep teases like evil...a bit of painful memory, and it's gone
...one's night is done...
..........................................
and, i realize
as i think along these lines,
my worries are just pebbles, not big stones
like theirs that whir,
over and over,
like a drone.
........................
whether with company, or on their own
they are people alone...
Sally
Copyright October 24, 2017
rrab
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 8:07 PM UTC
heartbeats
We either become sadder
Or our heart beats become louder
My heart,
My heart is eating so fast my bones are tingling
Vibrating through my veins
My blood stream is failing
I think too much
I don’t pray enough
Lost touch with the angels
The angels lost me
Forgetting this
Words are words by choice
Awkwardly complicated
Passionate souls intertwined in chaos
Beautiful chaos
My hands are shaking, they can’t stand still
I overdo it with coffee, I over did it.
Can’t handle my life sober
So much ****** up **** in the world
Smart people seem like crazy people to dumb people
And if you believe you can change the world
You’re one of a kind.
N
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 9:21 AM UTC
After years of you giving me the silent treatment if no one calls I think it's because of a disagreement Because of your consistent lack of communication sometimes when I talk, I forget people are listening Convinced I am never enough or I'm too much I overdo for others in hopes of earning their love Under your sense of grandiose entitlement I've put myself last and under your judgement With persistent efforts to disrespect me I over explain and apologize habitually I've accepted bread crumbs of your affection a love concocted of toxin and poisonous venom
Aug 19, 2025
Aug 19, 2025 at 2:01 PM UTC
Wallow, wallow, wallow
Until the first cracks
Show on your body.
Bees on lips
And whales in your woods
Make your life uneasy.
You manage to overdo the thinking
Which makes you unhappy
Deaf and blind
Yet even more beautiful.
The coffin of your closest relative
Never asked you anything
But you keep on justifying
Every little detail of your past.
Now you exhale yourself
On a wild bouquet of dandelions.
Keep still
For a moment.
You’re safe from questions in your own reflection
Another brain thinks for you,
VANITAS winks at you but you don’t give her attention,
Skulls and faded flowers smell like danger,
Nothing good can ever come out of that.
I may be saving your life,
I may stroke your neck but gently,
Leave your beauty intact
But with a bruise.
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
I think about the future, and what it just may hold.
And whether it is up to me, or a plan that must unfold.
I hesitate to think about, what lies too far ahead.
When I do, I overdo, and then can't clear my head.
I would love to learn to take things, just as they come along,
And not debate every choice I make, as either right or wrong.
To stop trying to live up to, what others' say I should be.
Maybe fly away for the weekend, try some spontaneity.
Stop and talk to a passer by, who's wearing shabby clothes,
Listen close, and maybe learn, something no one knows.
Take more breaks and be the center, of my own attention,
Find a way to spend a day, with too many smiles to mention.
Open up to a new found friend, holding nothing back at all,
Expand my horizons to find, the world really, isn't all that small.
And if I chose to do everything, that my heart truly desired,
Would I ever know if it was me, or the plan which had conspired?
Jul 5, 2010
Jul 5, 2010 at 6:57 PM UTC
Your hands
Wave
Over
Me
Still
The threshold
To
Guilt
Presents
The years
Overdo
In some less-than-conscious
Battle
And
The lines
Reassure
Great
Trouble
To Combat
Global
Impulse
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 12:22 PM UTC
Some of you
Don’t know how much you mean to
Me–
I just can’t see
A way
To say
“Just standing next to you makes my day”
Or perhaps “That made me feel so
Much better” because I know
It would just feel weird.
For how long has our society feared
Expressions
Of affection?
Too much obviously feels wrong
But when you’ve been here for so long,
I don’t know how to not overdo
My gratitude towards you.
Oct 21, 2024
Oct 21, 2024 at 8:28 AM UTC
Blame your desperation on the weather
Match the gray with gray
Allow yourself a smile or two
Don’t overdo it
Don’t force something like this
Try to make this all less crazy
Wash your face. Tighten up.
Forget the blade, the poison, the stars
You overhear someone tell someone the time
You’ve let that slip into
the background
in the spaces where the unseen meets
Blame your low-key troubles on the
T.V. shows
Watch the skinny giants starve
Someone’s changing the heat up and down
in the pearl-sized world
And someone’s taken all the colors out for
some other playground
those invisible hands, it follows, have too much
pull and force on the everydays.
Keep yourself alive with twice strained coffee and sunny days
Cut your hair with the kitchen knife
Grow a beard, fake an accent,
Fake Silence.
Pretend to make it mean something, the collapse, the choking
Clean the living
room
wipe all the fingerprints
No one’s coming for you but you’d take a hug from a hired assassin
You’d sympathize with the serial killer about his sin
You’d be impressed by his breath which smells of green mints.
Blame the sickness in your blood
Which warns off love with sores and fevers
On boredom and hunger
Make something of yourself, make yourself last
Peel off skin and let it dry like *** pourri
Forget how to love the ones that hurt you
Forget to how to hurt the ones that love you
Bite your lip to keep it all in
Bite to the bleeding, then
Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh
Build fires out of sofas and the kitchen table, make a vacancy of home
Laugh at humanity stuffed and suffering on its stilts
Smile at the honey moon you’ll never get to
Show your teeth at the ***** Death
Make the damage worth the price.
Mar 29, 2011
Mar 29, 2011 at 6:32 AM UTC
At last they are away off on holiday
We thought the day would never come
A free gaff for two weeks, Hip Hip Hooray
We are going to party and then some!!
Two weeks with no rules or regulations
Gone are the mind-numbing routines
Let the party begin, bring on the celebrations
Let’s live it up like proper teens!
There was a sermon about responsibility
But was anyone listening at all?
As for all that talk about maturity;
One might as well talk to the wall!
We can have our friends over for parties
Oh we are going to have mighty craic
Yes, we can do just as we please
At least until those two come back.
No more checking over our shoulder
To see who’s in and who’s out
Yes we can be just that little bit bolder
Knowing they are not lurking about
We can get up whenever we choose
Eat at any old time of the day
Maybe overdo it a bit on the *****
They cannot wreck our heads the next day
It will be two weeks of take-aways
No more being forced to eat healthily
We can have friends over for overnight stays
Ah God bless freedom and liberty
We can forget about washing and ironing
They are always are on our backs
Thank God to be free of constant nagging
We can chill out, really relax.
For there is always something they want done
Keeping up with their demands is tough
It’s never ending, it’s not much fun
It seems we can never do enough
But now for two weeks all that will desist
Absolutely nothing will be done
And though they left a “To Do” list
They have two chances; “Slim and None”
Two weeks without judgement and criticism
About everything we do and say
Two weeks of pure hedonism
Doing just what we want every day.
But all good things must come to an end
And though we really love them dearly
Their two weeks holidays will soon end
and our kids will have to come home, clearly!
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 1:54 PM UTC
~You must water it everyday (contribute)
~Not put to much water in (overdo it)
~Let it grow with other flowers (let him talk to other girls [don't get jealous])
~Give it some sunlight (some space from you)
~Not let it wither (don't let your love run out)
~Give it time to grow (same)
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 3:34 AM UTC
I can see.
Flood of tears streaming down your delicate face.
Your rosy life replaced by a topsy turvy one faught with failure.
Filled with disappointments that have deprived you of precious sleep.
Laden with bouts of miscarriages and recurring rounds of ailments.
I can hear;
The deep groans you utter in your anguish.
The whimper you wish to suppress every time the belt of your supposed better half touches you.
The deep breaths you take before going into the doctors office,
And the bitter cry when you are tagged unfruitful by your mother in law.
Nwa nnem.
Jide Chukwu Ike.
Move away from that bottle and make your way towards His temple.
With a little belief, approach His temple.
With a little strength, kneel at His feet.
With a genuine heart, thank Him for the times of plenty.
With a sincere heart, pour out your heart in prayers.
With a determined resolve, make a vow or seed offering to Him.
Naught more I can say.
Much more He can do.
For He is Jehovah overdo.
Surprising Sarah with a child in her old age.
Granting Esther favour in the sight of her peoples overlords
Using a little boy in David to bring victory to his nation.
Just believe auntie.
All will be well uncle.
He shall fight for you and you will hold your peace.
#BASHORUN
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 3:45 AM UTC
I'm 56 years old today
Got nothing to do
And too much to say
Used to be the other way
Contemplation
Will float you
But don't ponder too much
It's important to do
Lest that bit of yourself
Supperates into goo
Solitude IS the gift
But you can overdo it
Get a grip of it
Don't just construe it.
Aug 22, 2025
Aug 22, 2025 at 4:09 PM UTC