"overflow" poems
I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.
I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can't do a handstand--
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--
I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.
212.6k
To some siblings are a gift from God
To some siblings are a curse from hell
But to me....
siblings are...
A shoulder to cry on when I overflow
An ear to listen when I need to clear mii head
A body to talk to when I'm not in the mood
Mii help me when I can't do it alone
Mii life preserver when I swim out to far
Mii buddy when I wanna play
Mii closest friend whom no one can replace
Mii guardian who has mii back when I'm too busy covering the front
Mii treasure box in which I confide all of mii precious secrets
Mii compass for when I've lost mii way
Mii salt for when mii food is tasteless
Mii hope when I'm backed up against the wall
Mii night light when I'm afraid to sleep
Mii....
I have no more words to describe mii siblings for no one can truly use words to say just what...
Mii siblings are to me...
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 3:55 PM UTC
She introduced herself, as
Sunset.
Batted her lashes not to be flirtatious ,
But to hide that her eyes were wet.
All around me were blurred, but beautiful faces.
Yet, my eyes only focused on hers
The first that I noticed.
*When I bought my first camera,
From that sales-man down in Alabama.
And he taught me how to use it,
He said, "see here son, if I was to take your picture I'd set this camera here on portrait.
But if I took a picture of that pretty little girl 'cross the road"
he said with a smirk
"I'd have to set this here camera on Firework"*
It's funny how memories work.
I think of that man now, of his coffee colored skin and straw hat.
I never thought I'd need to know any of that.
but right here and now I set that camera to sunset.
raise it to my eye
And take a picture of
Sunset.
As if she were a colorful sky.
and that's it.
some people deserve more than a portrait.
And I know, I'm going to take her to a dark room.
And see what develops, of her negatives.
But first, I want to hear all about her crazy relatives.
Who gives her, her beauty?
where's she take her dog to groom?
The poodle on her leash is a cutie.
and what does she doodle on her notebooks?
stars or hearts or sugar skulls....
Does she know she's caught me on her fishin' hook?
What's she think of me, I'm sure I look dull.
Why are her teary eyes so full, About to overflow.
There were so many things I wanted to know....
before I took her to a dark room.
But it happened
And all I found in the picture that developed was gloom.
I realized I was her first.
And the best night of my life became my worst.
because I took something from her she didn't want to give.
But I just didn't know that she wouldn't want to live.
Keep reading, this ends beautifully.
beautifully like a sunset ends a day.
But, you have to believe me when I say that's not nearly as beautifully
As Sunset ends my hopes and dreams.
How she ended her own life
With pretty little pink pills.
One....Two....Three
gripped in her hand they found a picture of me.
And now I know, Sunsets are all about Beautiful Endings.
It's funny how memories work
© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
My eyes overflow tears
which couldn't come before
because of the lack of feelings
– missing feelings.
My hand touches you in vain.
I feel lost, rather alone.
And I'm still human
even without my affection.
My shoulder belongs to you now,
therefore I avoid going away.
I'm sorry, but love is more poetical
across the street.
My words rest in my mouth.
After all, smiling is enough to charm
who the affection could never thrill.
I'm sorry, but I'm more I away from this exaggerate.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 6:06 PM UTC
I want my love for myself
To overflow
And I want my overflow of love
To seep over onto you
But for now
My cup is empty
And maybe you can sense
That I have nothing to offer you
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 8:59 PM UTC
do not attempt any magic
when the full moon glow
during dark magic hour
powers are dull
we are already dealing with more than we can handle
so draw a bath
burn Palo Santo
Light a candle
and rest your precious soul
when the full moon glow
it will come
we will cleanse
it will go
it will leave our magic low
only to regrow
and overflow
until the next full moon glow
~take things slow
Nov 18, 2021
Nov 18, 2021 at 7:54 PM UTC
-Hello Love-
Perhaps it’s been a thousand years,
the rivers have shifted so,
the lakes I swam in, have gone dry
the waterfalls though, overflow.
And so it is, that I have wandered back
tugged furiously throughout days
by this rugged tinkling thread
back to this ancient maze.
Most surely it’s been several weeks
the leaves are rough to touch,
the grass withers where I step
but trees don’t ask for much.
And so it is, that I have rambled on
pulled strangely through the haze,
at last I fall under the rays of morn,
My love, I’m home again.
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 8:47 AM UTC
My life is like a river
winding down unto the sea
and if you sail my waters
then you can get a look at me
I may not be the greatest
of the rivers which have been
but you'll never find a body
that is more proud or genuine
Starting at my source
My family and home
filling me with substance
as I flow off on my own
my water, crystal-clear
alive with plant and fish
and to always be that way
is the one thing that I wish
Friends contribute water
and it helps me as I grow
Flowing ever deeper
running faster as I go
Some would irrigate me
but i'll never be contained
others hope to **** me
but I cannot be restrained
Raging with my water
sometimes my borders overflow
as I give back the sediment
thad borrowed long ago
my water moving mountains
slicing channels through the land
I may not be the greatest
but my canyons have been grand
When I wished to merge
another river I did find
and at once our separate waters
had forever been combined
Our banks were overflowing
from the substance that we shared
and so we pass it on
into the rivers we did bear
Meandering through life
My river not as deep
My water not as clear
and my angle not as steep
But my inside still is living
and that's how I will always be
Until my waters do depart me
when I flow into the sea.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 1:18 AM UTC
136
Have you got a Brook in your little heart,
Where bashful flowers blow,
And blushing birds go down to drink,
And shadows tremble so—
And nobody knows, so still it flows,
That any brook is there,
And yet your little draught of life
Is daily drunken there—
Why, look out for the little brook in March,
When the rivers overflow,
And the snows come hurrying from the fills,
And the bridges often go—
And later, in August it may be—
When the meadows parching lie,
Beware, lest this little brook of life,
Some burning noon go dry!
7.2k
good morning, my angel
my living lullaby
i glide across the fairest skin, you are the fairest one
of all. Good morning, my mother
my broken candle
you gave me the wax that has melted on many tablecloths
i feel I have lost you now, as I had lost you then.
Good morning, my first love
my little bridge
your mittens were warm when I needed heat
when I was so cold the tears froze onto my cheeks.
you ran me a bath a being
of divinity
we held each other in your father’s tub and laughed
at the bubbling abundance, burgeoning in overflow.
I wake to the puddle of your memory
That has grown since we last met, since I have wept
For the love I have not kept in place. Good
morning hindered lover, who worships me in forbidden light
a thousand songs have yet transpired born
from a single thought of you.
Inhibited inspiration,
camouflage constellation, I kiss you now
though I will always be
Years away from where you lie.
Good morning dear father, a forester
Braver than the lone wolf and his
solitary howl. The lesson of the arthritic toe shows you
True appreciation for the pain of existence.
You are the most loyal flame, my gratitude is overwhelming
Each time I embrace the past and the mistakes, unconscious
From the broken record
And its echo off the wall.
Good mourning to the loss of a lover, an ephemeral flame.
Good mourning to the death of a friendship, to the longing for a ****
Good mourning to the future in its casket,
That awaits a new life for me
In song.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 8:59 PM UTC
The light pollution
from the lives of little people
in the big city
reflects off the lowriding clouds,
the same way my knees reflect
in the little puddles
from the big rains.
It hurts my eyes to look up
without sunglasses,
hurts my lips to think of tasting
the subway oil that
drip
drip
drips
I speculate at the transformers,
part automatic, part people
in their pre-ripped jeans,
learning to get their Ns
to drive themselves away,
yarn trailing from their sweaters
like parade float streamers.
Citizens run so fast
to catch the early train home,
freefalling down the stairs
breathing in the exhales
of the other racer’s exhaust.
Marking their triumphs
with participation ribbons.
The pacific pants at toes,
a puppy that only occasionally misbehaves.
Impatient for attention,
waves wagging back and forth,
up the imitation river,
past the downtown.
Kicking the sea wall with it's gravity boots.
The geese are on hiatus
until they can take back the city.
Making the drains overflow,
creating their own habitat,
they’ll strut their haughty markings,
distinguished from orcas,
away from any saline nonsense.
Were we to retrain the population
to turn blind eyes,
we’d be much more efficient,
stop wasting time contending
to society’s obsession
with documenting itself.
But then, what would we do all day?
Creating light pollution
must give immediate gratification.
Once all the lights are turned off,
the influence won’t continue,
creating a lack of permanence,
making our need to be remembered
seem trivial indeed.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 1:57 AM UTC
In 1963
Mahalia prodded
the good reverend...
“tell them
about the dream
Martin”
transfixed on
a yonder time
he recounted
prophecies of
a near future
from a mountaintop
he foretold a
history of a people
returned again to
gardens of paradise
thriving in friendly
democratic soils
overflowing with a
colorful biodiversity
governed and
nurtured with a
vibrant sunshine
of divine justice
welcoming all
weary sojourners...
from the
pinnacle of
a Birmingham
jail cell
Martin burst
the bars with
the clarion peel
of a golden trumpet
proclaiming the gospel
of liberation to
the wardens of
unholy gulags
“free yourselves”
the horn emblazoned
in streaking lightning
across the sky
cowed by
prophetic truths
of righteousness,
shamed by
lies the pride
of arrogance
bespeaks to
placate the
intransigence
of dominion,
we prayed the
the walls of racism,
bigotry, prejudice
would tumble down as
Martin lit the Battle
of Jericho
today our country’s
profit driven gulags
overflow with people
of color as justice
lingers on death row
begging for a plea bargain
of a life sentence in
solitary confinement...
from the
****** Sunday Bridge
in Selma, Martin
offered a prayer for
peace, rebuking
the dogs of war
admonishing
the tenders of
blood thirsty
machines to
beat the gears
of war into
pruning hooks
and plowshares
advocates of peace
hope to steer
the plow across
the battlefields of
acrimony to sow
rich seeds of
reconciliation, planting
new gardens where
the rich yields of peace
will be consumed
by all God's children
yet these gardens
remain unplanted,
untended and defiled
by the machinery
of war that churns
churns, churns...
Martin last
dream occurred
on a balcony
in Memphis
witnessing
to the divinity
of those considered
untouchable after
a hard days work
collecting a city’s
refuse
he insisted all labor
was worthy of dignity
and the economic
justice of a fair wage
Martin looked squarely
into the eye of the gun sights
of those who thought differently
he never blinked, he dreamed
Martin formed his last
testament to an angry nation
yearning for the reconciliation
of stability and peace,
unmoved that it’s violence,
exploitation and bigotry only
stoke bonfires of acrimony
and division, condemning
the reprobate principality
to the bleakness of a
smoldering discontent and
continued generations
of recurring nightmares…
Martin's dream continues
in awakened hearts
sojourning on
Music Selection:
Mahalia Jackson
Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho
MLK Day
2014
Oakland
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
A barraster at law no less
I wouldnt trust I must confess
Looking down your pointed nose
seductively holding pose
Your linkedIn profile
who could see
just how you get your
filthy fee
Perverted farming
Filthy creeps
In Hi ace vans
and blacked out jeeps
Gratefully they pay their fee
In return for an STD
Heres the justice overflow
For Nank and **** and ******
I'm returning him to you
When I scrape him from my shoe
For you my dear a final fact
His STD is still intact!
Enjoy!
May 13, 2011
May 13, 2011 at 3:43 AM UTC
So many memories they tend to cloud my mind
Smells of the food cooking in the kitchen
Family gathered— ready and at attention
So many memories they tend to cloud my mind
I remember when we used to play in the park
I remember when our Grandma told us to be in before dark
So many memories they tend to cloud my mind
Sounds of laughter at Christmas time
I remember when we used to wait up for Santa
We were threatened with pepper in the eyes
Remember that?
Scared into sleepiness because our young minds didn’t know any better
With the morning sun, we rise and shine to open presents together
So many memories they tend to cloud my mind
I remember these memories represented our close knit bond
People grow
People change
I guess it’s naivety to think it would forever stay the same
It’s the memories we cherish and should hold them close
Keeping the people near and dear that we love the most
Because there will come a time when the reaper must stake his claim
We never invite him, but it doesn’t matter because he already has the name
He may come in quick or take his time, but when he comes it leaves us blind
Blinded by hurt
Blinded by pain
Blinded by the fact we will never see our loved one again
Blinded by the new memories of a new type of hurt—a new type of pain
Then the memories overflow and fill the frontal lobe-the part of the brain where memories and speech are controlled
You become speechless because you become filled and overwhelmed with the loss
Family comes together to comfort each other
You haven’t seen some in years—it’s been so long since you’ve seen them you want to burst out in tears.
Kids have grown and don’t look the same
So handsome and beautiful, but you don’t remember their names
That’s how long—how long it’s been
Again, it’s a shame.
You ask, “Why does it take death to bring the family together again?”
Then, in an instant, tears begin to form in the wells of your eyes
You realize how things have really changed and you don’t quite understand why
So many memories they tend to cloud my mind
I remember that there is a need to change the timeline
I remember when I decided to finally say
Don’t let the family, your blood, fade away
Embrace each other
Love each other
Motivate each other
Cherish each other
Protect each other
Keep each other
Continue to make memories—no matter how old we get
Make sure the family remains close knit
Yep, so many memories they just tend to cloud my mind
Family should always be together—until the end of time.
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 8:03 AM UTC
A journey followed by a road, reaching to the distant sky,
Feelings which cannot be conveyed in words, but actions, disappear in the sea of truths and lies, under the drifting clouds of the night,
A red thread, connecting us without having the answer to where it actually leads, meaningless questions remain floating in thin air,
Ages fade but my infinite lifespan, allows me to shine for you forever,
My heart reflects your tears, which before moistened the earth below us, making me overflow with emotions I couldn't even understand,
Space and time, are for me an obsticle, which I must overcome,
So my gaze, even though is fraught with sin, lead you to happiness.
Spread like moondust across a damaged surface, you departed into the unknown of the night, disappearing within layers of darkness,
Yet, I am not sad for even if you may not be with me from now on,
Always cheering for me to move forward, it would be a shame to give up now, even if we had our troubles, fights and sometimes disagreed.
And if we can never return to the past, let's enjoy the allure moonlight
Together we laughed and cried, yet this dream ended today,
What's left are the memories and the feelings I have felt.
~ Umi
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 6:19 PM UTC
*I wish I could be enough for you,
I wish I could be your other half
I wish I could please you beyond
the measure of just friends
I wish I could be on your mind
like my sad image in your eye
and the succulent apple of your eye
I wish I could be close to
your soul as I'm usually close to you
I wish I could touch your heart
like I touch your hand
I wish you could also tremble
in my unnoticed presence
I wish the thought of me
could make you sick in my absence
I wish I was as handsome
as he is, with the cash he has
I wish I could also show up
driving myself in the posh cars
I wish I wasn't a tattered
fabric with patches of scars
I wish I amazed you like a
clear night sky filled with stars
I really wish so much,
I wish you could read my mind
and see the million words left
buried, the emotions left behind
I wish I could be the first and last
thought as you sleep and wake
I wish the little I have to give was
the much you crave to take
I wish you could believe when
I say these feelings started at hello
that I die subduing my passion
threatening to overflow
as soon as I set eyes on your
beautiful breathtaking face
you would laugh at how
nervous my heart loses pace
I wish I had the qualities
you are looking out for
a height, light skinned, courageous,
and quite physically fit
but I lack such a physic, those
qualities are embedded
within the core of my invisible
self, a person you can't see
I wish you knew that your presence
throws me in an ecstasy
I wish you knew that I have
burning flames of desire
fueled by my highly flammable
affection which you inspire
I wish you could consider someone
like me,maybe I would reveal
but even if I do you can never
give me an opportunity
I'd make a double loss, swallowing
my pride, that bitter pill
you can't bear someone like me...
you never will
yet I still find myself wishing
you could for real
albeit I too would never
waste your valuable time
dragging you through this
hell of my boring life
I wish I was something more
than a lover of rhyme
maybe then I'd stand a chance
of calling you "Wife"
I wish things were different,
I wish you could know
how much I wish I could be
someone deserving of you
I do, I wish I could be more*
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 3:05 PM UTC
My girl don’t like
To read these line,
You see, she like me
To talk straight,
She like to see rain
Not jus’ cloud dance,
Me – am not
Impractical,
Though, cloud, are
Beautiful:
Rain, no rain;
But I need to write,
‘Coz I mus’
Anguish soothe
Love stir and heart
Overflow,
Emotion: I pour
My heart out
In these line –
Nobody read’em
But:
Beauty in echo –
You gotta see,
Yea, silence smile.
Jul 27, 2012
Jul 27, 2012 at 7:22 AM UTC
Your seduction has been unfair,
Though you could not help it, my dear.
My heart melts with the thoughts you share
And aloe smoothness of your hair.
Executed so ruthlessly,
You constantly seducing me,
With love given innocently,
You did it all so carelessly.
I’m smitten and I can’t let go,
Seduced by all the things you know,
You made my desire overflow,
Just by affection that you show.
I’m a slave to your seduction,
Mastermind of will’s abduction,
From our very introduction,
I was lost to your seduction.
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 10:04 PM UTC
ೋღ❤ღೋೋღ❤ღೋ
*Walking down a wooded path
tall flowing trees all around,
I came upon the river’s edge
and sat down on the ground.
Sitting at the edge of the river
I stare at its ongoing flow,
I start to give it all my pain
a release with each little throw.
My hardest pain is fear
that I’ve had from so long ago,
of never feeling good enough
that’s dulled my inner glow.
It eats at me like a cancer
each and every day,
the fear of never being good enough
and again being thrown away.
Years of disappointment and abuse
only being property, nothing to love,
but always trying to make things right
so everyone else could rise above.
I throw this fear out into the river
sit back and watch it pass slowly by,
I wrap my arms around myself
feel the release, let myself cry.
I throw out all the other pains
betrayal, heartache, loneliness and more,
I watch them drift gently way
these last tears will be left on this river shore.
Noticing as each and every pain
slowly floats down the river away,
I observe at a distance
as they fade into the suns sparkling rays.
Walking down a wooded path
tall flowing trees all around,
I came upon the river’s edge
and was surprised at what I found.*
***And ever onward shall we strive
and from the circle peace derive.
The sea in robes of mossy green
and blues the eye has never seen...
In grays that mock the stormy sky
and depths that hold the tears gone by....***
*A sweet release we give our heart
from pain of past that tore apart,
relief that only one can find
when hearts we let, become unconfined,
to leave behind those stormy skies
letting self-love baptize…*
***A tide of tears resides within
and waits to overflow.
i greet with a smiling face
so others will not know.
How feeble is this masquerade.
Transparent are the games.
Emotions should be given room
without the chides and blames.
The time will come to open up
and let the dam release...
my will, the pressure stop.
my soul will be at peace.
Weep when grief prescribes.
Laugh for humor's sake.
Love with everything you have
and forgive, all your mistakes.***
ೋღ❤ღೋೋღ❤ღೋ
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 8:45 PM UTC
The cocktail dress split hope down the screen
Letting that reoccurring dream compel me
Into memories of you
The clink of my cup
Shattered sobriety with the pain of daybreak
The ice looks like crystal but only something that will disappear and overflow your glass is standing at attention
The bar stool cracked, empty and the faux leather ripped, and torn
Cougars and MILFs strut down the bar top
Scanning tonight’s bachelors
I sit behind, for my dress is long and flannel
Heavy, hot making me sweat and stink
I run faster than a cheetah in my mind
Tearing doors and bridges apart
Speeding towards the sunrise
Attempting for the *** of gold
The cocktail drips from the table on to the floor
A puddle I will eventually slip from
Hair in my face
My ankle sundress reaped with alcohol
I stand up, look around
Towel?
But all I see is you
Walking back slowly retreating to the door
Leaving me to deal and regret the decisions
I so poorly execute
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 5:29 PM UTC
*Between the night and daylight,
As twilight begins to shower,
Comes a lull in the day's preparations,
Cherished as the Kittys' Hour.
I hear in the kitchen beside me,
The patter of tiny feet,
Rumbles of varying motors
With "meow's" gentle and sweet.
Leaping from counter with agile grace
On my shoulder with a purr;
Sail grave Thomas and sweet Lady Jane,
And Susan of golden fur.
A "meow," and then a long silence,
I know by mischievous eyes,
They are scheming and musing together,
To vanquish my weary sighs.
With sudden dash from the hallway,
Tortie bounds into my arms!
Felines of all colours sit starring,
Delighting me with their charms.
Frolicking with skillful ease,
Tossing and batting their catnip-mouse;
If I run to escape, they surround me,
They appear to overflow the house.
Suffocating me with their kisses,
Furry paws patting my face;
And though they have torn the kitchen blinds,
They dazzle me with their grace.
I hug you all close in loving arms,
And will n'er let you depart,
Nor ****** you dears out to coyotes,
For you each have won my heart.
And here shall you dwell forever,
Cherished more each golden day;
Till this glad house fall into ruin,
And I in dust shall decay.*
~Hilda~
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 3:07 AM UTC
.
*asks the one in the $9 Craigslist chair,
legs crossed like a philosopher
mid-way through a YouTube binge
on dark matter
and dopamine fasting.*
He thinks it’s profound.
It’s not.
It’s a shrug in a trench coat.
A crisis dressed up in code.
An old fear wearing digital cologne.
If this is a simulation—
***what the **** are we simulating?***
Heartbreak?
Minimum wage despair?
The number of times I check my phone
hoping it’s her?
Is it
a stress test for gods,
a beta for consciousness,
a joke?
Because if someone coded this—
they should be fired.
Or worshipped.
Or sued.
Where’s the patch notes,
the exit key,
the server room in the sky?
Where’s the moment it glitches
and someone finally says,
“Oops, our bad—
you weren’t meant to feel
all of that.”
You talk about the veil of illusion
but you still cry in parking lots.
You still ghost your therapist.
You still love people
who don’t text back.
You bleed,
you ache,
you spiral—
whether you’re made of atoms
*or ******* pixels.*
Your god wears headphones.
Your sacred text is a Stack Overflow thread.
Your heaven is a loading screen.
Your hell is just
Monday.
You pray in 1080p
to a silent DevOps deity
who hasn’t pushed an update
since the Bronze Age.
This isn’t philosophy.
It’s cosplay for cowards.
It’s a way to sound deep
without touching dirt.
Without risking faith.
Without changing anything.
Because if it’s a sim,
you don’t have to care.
If it’s a sim,
you don’t have to try.
You can just sit there,
scrolling.
Wondering if the fire
is ray-traced.
But here, the only questions that matter:
Does it hurt?
Do you love?
Can you lose?
Because if the answer is yes—
you’re in it.
Whatever it is.
Simulation or not.
Aug 5, 2025
Aug 5, 2025 at 5:12 AM UTC