"overloaded" poems
Black is the color beyond all colors.
Black is the void,
The void of my heart,
The void of my soul.
Black is the feeling of everything;
Black is the feeling of nothing.
The smell of death is the color black.
When you feel overloaded with emotion,
Yet, you feel no emotion at all...
That is black. Oh so very black.
Fear is black when it clothes you mind;
You can't even think as it overcomes you.
Black is not intensity, but intensity itself.
Black is what controls us all;
Black is the feeling of being controlled.
Black is the color of shadows,
Shadows of a moonless night.
Black is what makes us shiver without the wind.
Black is the only thing that won't leave us in the end.
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 10:40 PM UTC
As I sit here, at the dining room table and stare over decaf coffee at the screen on my Mac
my eyes are drawn, once and awhile, to the picture sitting on the buffet in the butler's pantry.
Before we continue you should know that "butler's pantry" in this case
means the "third bedroom" that we saw in the listing on Realtor dot com before we bought the house and that,
in the usual real estate-ese, is an optimistic label at best.
But I was talking about the picture.
The picture sits, slightly askew, in a carved wooden bowl given to us by my wife's boss
as a housewarming present.
It, the bowl I mean, came with salad tongs or forks,
depending on what it is that you call them,
made of water buffalo horn.
They sit in the bowl too and,
although she'd never admit it,
I know that the thought of serving salad with water buffalo horn salad forks...
lets just say.....
doesn't appeal to my wife.
Right, the picture....
It sits in on the buffet,
in the carved wooden bowl,
next to another wood bowl.
This one full of carved wood fruits and vegetables,
which evidently, includes sugar cane.
When my wife's dad moved from his house to an assisted living facility
the kids, my wife, her brother and sister, took turns going down to help him move.
My wife was the last and dad insisted that
someone
"had" to take the fruit.
But, the picture....
It, and the wooden bowls full of fruit and unused salad forks,
are surrounded by both faux and real glassware
and placemats
which all sit perched
on the top of the buffet as precariously as refugees
and all of their belongings
on the deck and roof of an overloaded fishing boat
chugging from their homeland
to some place that is hopefully better.
The picture...
It was painted by my father-in-law and,
of all the others we have in the house,
is one of my favorites.
It sits on the buffet, askew in the carved wooden bowl with the horn salad forks,
amid polycarbonate and glass drink ware,
and placemats,
unframed for some reason.
All of his other works came framed
but this is one he did not...
and did I mention that it is one of my favorites?
I like his choices of frames on all of the other pictures we have,
but this is just canvas, stretched over a frame,
sitting in that carved African wooden bowl
with those salad forks made from water buffalo horn
on the buffet next to the other wood bowl full of wooden fruits and vegetables,
and wooden sugar cane,
in the butler's pantry.
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 9:51 AM UTC
He's broken, he's in pieces, he's trapped, in a black hole
He's crying, he's heartbroken, he's dying of loneliness
He's confused, his mind is overloaded, his todger is dropping off
He's this and that and that and this
projecting your ******* fears and insecurities on him
Hahaha...hahaha...hahaha...hahaha...hahaha
You know what....He's NOT....he's laughing at you
He's happy that you now realize there are still men out there
who transcend your ******* stereotyping and imbecilic assumptions .
He's still laughing because he now sees for ******* real
how immature and mentally underdeveloped a lot of you are
and how so petty, mediocre and easy to manipulate you are
Not to mention how weak, spineless and unable to handle pressure
so many of you are.
He laughing because you just act without fully thinking
You are a shallow lot, cowardly, infantile and narrow minded
You lack sound reasoning capacity and a lot of you are neurotic
He's laughing because most believe anything they are told
Unquestioning drones like a Labrador thrown a stick
Go fetch, off he runs, retrieve stick, pat on the head, good boy
Just simple minded followers.
He laughing because he's attained all he wanted
Got a good education, good self understanding, good morality
sensitivity, compassion, empathy, confidence and honesty
A well drilled man, adaptable, flexible, courageous and brave
A MODERN DAY SPARTAN.
He's laughing because you can't ******* take that away
He's laughing because he's shown you how a proper man is
He's laughing because he's invalidated your stereotypical
assumptions, your prejudices, your bigotry and your ignorance
He's laughing because you have confirmed your inferiority
exposed your fears and inadequacies and make others see how
damaged and vindictive you are
He's laughing because out of all only one woman has shown
magnanimity and she didn't belong to the class of the mediocres
Which proves the point that mediocrity goes hand in hand
with ignorance, fear and lack of Dignity and Integrity.
And he's laughing because he's got chutzpah
a big package
and a hell of "tener cojones"
hahaha...hahaha...hahaha...hahaha
[email protected] Sept 2018,Allrightsreserved.
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 9:54 AM UTC
My head is overloaded;
My thoughts are the bullet,
And my brain is a hapless victim.
Nothing matters:
Not life, not death, not you, nor me—
Nothing matters.
The doctors call this an
Existential crisis;
‘you are in the midst of believing
Your life has no external meaning,’
He says, ‘don’t worry, you’ll get over it.’
In the hurricane of my reality,
I crack; my thoughts ****** my brain,
And I say goodbye to tranquillity,
And you with your fragile frame.
I’m not sad—I’m too lost feel
Grief. Instead, I realise this is what I need.
To part ways with our partial ordeal.
I hope happiness is what you bleed.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 2:38 PM UTC
Hi there ,Alice.
This world is a nuisance.
The people are ruthless.
The rulers are merciless.
The animals are wild.
The weather is ********
The sun will burn you.
The moon will scar you.
The angels will guide you.
The devil will destroy you.
The good are non-existent.
The bad are overloaded.
The looks will deceive you.
The wealth will mislead you.
Love will blind you.
Satan will tempt you.
Distance will break you,
and time will end you.
20-08-13, 04.35 AM.
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 7:46 AM UTC
*Restlessness makes my nights sleepless
Overloaded thoughts make my lights stranded
My mirrored reflection affects my emotion
Finding the old me, now lost in the sea, never ending
Waves that never cease my ease, bewildering
Kisses pushes me to the dark,, hugs causes me to bark
Stars from far above filled this emptied love
Voices Rant, faceless haunt, memories taunt
Goodbyes are beginning, the ends are starting*
© Pax
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
the grating voices of neighbors unsuccessfully singing Celine Dion ballads
the monotonous mechanical humming of the metal factory
the squealing of housewives watching an afternoon soap opera
the blaring siren of a firetruck racing with tragedy
the clunks and clangs of a nearby construction site
the roaring of the engine of an overloaded jeepney
the chiming of laughter from kids playing in the streets
the calls of the street vendor peddling sugary cotton candy
the whining of the dog begging to run around outside
this is the music of life in the outskirts of the city
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 3:45 AM UTC
My eyes were hooked on to the West
Feasting on the riot of colors the sun had cast
I stood dazed at an experience blest
That any poet would treasure with zest
By chance I glanced at the river below
It moved like an overloaded carriage slow
With floating weeds and ***** *******
Reminding one of an ugly heap of trash
I saw partially submerged bottles bobbing on the surface
Gradually filling with ***** water perforce
And slowly sinking down to rest in peace
With their sunken brethren at the river base
Spill of oil glistened iridescent
On the face of the river florescent
Its water was far from clean
But had turned murky green
On the still surface was a layer of ****
Like rancid butter annoying anyone’s calm
Reeking smell of rotten fish and mulch
Entered my nostrils with an obnoxious stench
I closed my eyes and turned my head
And looked away from the river bed
I thought of man’s callous audacity
In assaulting Nature’s pristine vitality
I heard the river’s rising lament
And me it did acutely torment
Any sensitive soul would be left grieving
Seeing the river in such agony heaving
In the far horizon, the sky had grown into flames
I wondered if Nature was mad at man’s tall claims
Suddenly I saw with the eyes of a seer
That Dooms day is drawing near!
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 8:58 AM UTC
Your body
clamps to mine
like a magnet
or an electric eel.
Feel the jolting
current bounce
and flow and
jerking take
hold of you.
Particles dance
us tighter
together
like fleshly
puppets.
See how we
clutch and
writhe and
grind, hum
like overloaded
lines.
No escape
once you
touch the
live wire.
And anyway:
nowhere else
you want
but here;
nothing else
you want
to be,
but a jello mold
of...
Quantum,
Quivering,
Lust.
- mce
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 9:29 PM UTC
Conversation overloaded
psychopathic episode
Choke me till I learn to die
Yet to die is to live a lie
Swords and knives cut me deep
But my stature I still keep
Words so mighty are all that hurt
Rub them in my face like dirt
Cut me till my tears run dry
Sing me a broken lullaby
Demons rise angels fall
I try so hard to forget it all
Broken dreams rise from the dead
Broken promises stuck in my head
I will not cry I will not brake
My broken heart you shall not take
Beat me till I learn to listen
Still in my eyes you glow and glisten
You're not better then any one
Just because you hold a gun
Choke me cut me beat me down
Yet shoot me and I'll always be around
Forever written on your heart
Bitter memories taste so ****
I said that you would regret
Now you will never forget
My name is written on your skin
Blood on your hands as proof of sin
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 5:12 PM UTC
Whispers dancing
in between
thoughts and feelings
pushing and weaving
thin threads
through out my mind.
Images peaking
into the corners
of my eyes
my memory
making me
question if
anything is
real anymore.
When will there
be a middle ground
from sociopathic
to emotionally
overloaded?
When will
overwhelming
anxiety stop
and human
interaction start?
Will i ever be
fully honest
with anyone
without the
fear of rejection
for a chemical
imperfection?
Or will living
be an elaborate
lie to keep
anyone and everyone
away from
the truth
of insanity?
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 6:27 AM UTC
(G)
Life as a burden is decent
Treading in hatched up waterways
Swimming in the green brine ebbing tides
Drowned in emotive stances
A being intensified in rapid torrents
Ohh my…fickleness soaked in curiosity
(J)
Decent sounds pretty substantial
I lay acquainted to swampy lowlands
My footsteps have tasted salty waters
Stepped, wadding inside the muddy landscape
Inch by inch, halfway, fully submerged
Overloaded by the tide gasping for oxygen
(G)
Populaces catwalk with intellectual deficit
Footsteps bereft of creativity and eloquence
The grounds lay dry strangling the in-between
The desert begging to lose their sandy dry skin
The forest whispers with a revolt of transformation
The luscious green splash life sparking drones
(J)
Your analogy sways the natured array of trees
The inspiration stings the sun to radiate warmth
All patched in the blueness of bellowing skies
My lungs deflate even on intense inhalation
I tarmac on the passage of time, differently wired
Intermittently cyanosed in faded lived moments
(G)
For poetry and art scaffolds and shapes reality
It sparks life and eliminates the drone mentality
Artists arouse inspiration and boost human nature
It bridges the narrowing ledge of ( human diversity/ instead of/ diverse species)
It drives conversation and deepens basic pleasantries
Rotating notions, promoted to a present and active human
(J)
I object not, for human essence is essential
A foundation of humanity that inspires and frees
A deed that dips in the depth of a lush oasis
Most sunk and waving “a celebration of celebrities”
Falsified lionization, a control of master puppeteer
Amused by insight, the reciprocal contract of empathy
G= Graff1980
J=SassyJ
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 7:01 AM UTC
Your bones broke. I heard them, all of them. I let you carry far too much. You already held your heavy love for me throughout every blood vessel and chasm in your body. Just not to my knowledge, until I professed my love to you. The weight you could carry had reached full capacity. My love was too much. It marinated in your brain for less than a second. An overloaded mental breakdown transpired before the rest of your body could register it. Before your bones broke.
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 9:59 PM UTC
Bathed in trauma, poured on you,
Blindly making excuses, I didn't have a clue,
Unintended harm was not my aim,
I swear, from my heart, that's the truth I claim.
Just give me a chance to prove I can change,
Don't turn away, let's break this estrange,
I've learned my lessons, I'm ready to grow,
I can transform, this I truly know.
Lost in the past, flipping photo albums' pages,
Seeking smiles, wondering through the ages,
But now I see the present with fresh eyes,
Fixing what's wrong, no more disguise.
A shared prison, unaware we both dwelled,
Failed to communicate, the stories we withheld,
I tried to speak of demons deep within,
Unaware they held me tight, drowning in their sin.
I plead for a chance, believe I can mend,
Break free from the covers, where the pain won't extend,
Yesterday's weight won't hold us down,
Together we'll rise, wearing courage as our crown.
Glimpsing photos, memories of distant travels,
Questioning why joy seemed to unravel,
But it's not about them, or what they comprehend,
Finding my worth, letting my true self ascend.
Losing my muse, an ache deep within,
Placing you on a pedestal, where love had once been,
Our best memories like a festival's delight,
But I clung too tightly, clouding our sight.
Hurting you, hurting myself, a tangled mess,
I thought I suffered more, but it was just a guess,
Overloaded with clichés, patched on our dark days,
Unaware I was the setup, before the closing phrase.
Keep donning your cape socks, a symbol of strength,
In the end, you shaped me, helping me find my true length
May 27, 2023
May 27, 2023 at 5:04 PM UTC
now just an oil slick
on the road you took
South
just a bare scraping
on your toast
in the morning
avoiding
Cholesterol levels
from invading
your mouth
just a small piece
of tissue paper
upon your chin
because the cut
bled...
RED
but not enough
to waste
a whole square
of toilet paper
that might have been
useful
for your overloaded
********
Where all this **** begins
and ends
*spread so thin
only able to dab
at the blood spilt,
unable to wipe
the crap from
your chin*
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 5:51 AM UTC
Bad prose and half - dried hair.
Pants..? No.
Just a blanket,
On these unpremeditated rainy days.
With stale crackers for breakfast,
I'll start a revolution today.
Depression is a renewable resource,
Like plastic.
Earwax is made up of words,
So my heads overloaded,
calendars outdated,
Bridge, underrated
Woops
The jump didnt make it
You made the jump
Now shh
I cant hear the voices in my head.
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 8:47 AM UTC
there is a second stomach
and it is where words and sentences go
when you swallow them
instead of saying them out loud
And this process has become such
a mundane and common routine
that my second stomach is
overloaded with ugly
and unforgiving words
and if I am not careful
I will ***** all over you
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 11:14 AM UTC
I wanted to find something to bring back to life.
Lately, these stanzas have been on repeat.
My words: resurrected.
Stories engrave themselves in my synapses
A memory forms and then collapses
A Heart skips beats and then relaxes
Powerhouse of nerves in through the spine
Messages from hands moving to the mind
No rush, steady-paced climb
Following the crooked lines
Pulled apart, then pushed together
Overloaded with the
Doing and undoing tether
Smiles slowly building the road to better
Best medicine is the sound of laughter
The world spins, and spins faster
Without even a second thought
Of what happens after
Los secretos, el momento,
Las caras que vemos
Pero aqui, en sonrisas,
Aqui nos quedemos
En los ojos siempre,
Facil nos perdemos
Cada maravilla es diferente que vemos
Es que las cosas no son tan complicadas
La vida esta llena de cosas delicadas
Pero es una lucha, ya sabes eso
Toma un corazon fuerte en el pecho
Exposure, exposure, to the other moving closer
Admiration reaching and pulling voices over
Of passion, and into the seas of liberation
Speaking a language with no available translation
Rules broken, laws and regulations
Systematic arrangements of our kings and queens
In different moments, places,
Different things
But the beauty is more than the perfection
Or imperfection in the seams
Lining the different parts of la vita bella
Every part of the whole of what we fiend
Filling the empty spaces sitting vacant in between
From past, told and untold dreams
The path in life winds and turns
Full of chances and opportunities to get burned
Full of the learned and unlearned
Growing pensive,
Minds fill with the incentive
To rise above,
Intentionally connected
v.xxx.xi
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 1:59 PM UTC
They label this pessimism.
Call me selfish.
I'm both of those things but please,
add the lip stain.
Let's not forget the judgmental, hypocrite, reneger, unworthy, blasphemy characteristics of me.
I'm emotionally unstable, overloaded with thoughts.
Run by my heart,
and you could say some what street-smart. See I learned from the stress, the heartaches, the bills left unpaid.
I picked up the cards dealt,
never paying them any mind,
all the while completely unaware what they would leave behind.
I call this myself, a broken, ambitious ******* I find comfort here, amongst my demons pride.
I find comfort in the sorrow of being alone, completely addicted to the negative, low life, hard to reach center, of MY soul.
I hesitate to look to the left or to the right, constantly keeping my eye from the light. A whirlpool of hate, anger and black, this list could go on, this list of my mind, this list of me, of what I lack.
See I stand here today with this etched into my heart, but somehow some where, there's always a need to restart.
I can't seem to hold onto it when I find it, I can't seem to take root in the nourishment, into the healthy soil. I know it's there, if I could just take hold.
My dear, I do fear, this will be a fight until I'm old.Be
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
**** my pants,
they're somewhere on the lawn,
wet, muddy and torn--
*but it's my mouth that's on fire
burning frustration spewing forth
exhaling cigarettes filled with chili powder
louder and louder the guttural smoky screams
sting her eyes with salt
choking the beating heart
blackening confusodium slowly strangles once red veins
to her overloaded gray cloudy brain as only violent crashes
of lightening briefly flash the way out
as my booming thunder voice shouts a hurricane
rattling her exhausted body
as i beg with prayers for it to stop!*
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 3:14 AM UTC
I wanted to find something to bring back to life.
Lately, these stanzas have been on repeat.
My words: resurrected.
Stories engrave themselves in my synapses
A memory forms and then collapses
A Heart skips beats and then relaxes
Powerhouse of nerves in through the spine
Messages from hands moving to the mind
No rush, steady-paced climb
Following the crooked lines
Pulled apart, then pushed together
Overloaded with the
Doing and undoing tether
Smiles slowly building the road to better
Best medicine is the sound of laughter
The world spins, and spins faster
Without even a second thought
Of what happens after
Los secretos, el momento,
Las caras que vemos
Pero aqui, en sonrisas,
Aqui nos quedemos
En los ojos siempre,
Facil nos perdemos
Cada maravilla es diferente que vemos
Es que las cosas no son tan complicadas
La vida esta llena de cosas delicadas
Pero es una lucha, ya sabes eso
Toma un corazon fuerte en el pecho
Exposure, exposure, to the other moving closer
Admiration reaching and pulling voices over
Of passion, and into the seas of liberation
Speaking a language with no available translation
Rules broken, laws and regulations
Systematic arrangements of our kings and queens
In different moments, places,
Different things
But the beauty is more than the perfection
Or imperfection in the seams
Lining the different parts of la vita bella
Every part of the whole of what we fiend
Filling the empty spaces sitting vacant in between
From past, told and untold dreams
The path in life winds and turns
Full of chances and opportunities to get burned
Full of the learned and unlearned
Growing pensive,
Minds fill with the incentive
To rise above,
Intentionally connected
v.xxx.xi
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 6:17 AM UTC
It was a deep dark energy. A pulse. Thick, heavy pulses; radiating between bodies.
Magnetism, a primitive attraction. So carnal in nature, so rooted within the primal psyche.
The air was straining, the gap was treacherous to bridge and far too untamed.
Tension gathers until it touches the tip of the tongue, taste buds overloaded, it is a rich,
overwhelming taste, yet it left you quietly seeking more.
Desire. The urges threaten to swallow you whole, teasing you
with the
threatening riptide
that is this
feeling.
Pulling against the rope
dragging you in,
struggling with the strangling grip,
face only somewhat off-color,
eyes only rolling on occasion.
You can take it.
Until you are
overtaken by the mounting wave, swept away
as it crashes upon you, drowning your senses…
oh but how you relish in its wake
It's hit or miss in these raging waters, you make it
or you don't,
and no one ever knows if you'll end up
a floater like so many others.
Not until you're found bloated or bare *****
only then are they certain,
and how condescending
in the way they shake their heads
and announce that they knew where, “you lied all along“
Mar 28, 2010
Mar 28, 2010 at 6:28 PM UTC
the anthem of an empty soul
a shell crammed full in nothingness
absolutely nil to this choral tune
vacancy's note played by one sole pan
there's a humdrum to its pitch
packing's plump the missing ingredient
always with an absence of ingredient
starved was this emaciated soul
not having the richest cloven pitch
inside infinite quantities of nothingness
ever the void sound to its pan
a totally scooped out dull tune
zero being in the husk of the tune
this cavernous space possessing no ingredient
like that of a dead hearted pan
as it had but the blankest soul
completely useless this bare nothingness
lacking of an ample vessel's pitch
such was the hopelessness to the pitch
its essence so poorly of tune
deprived this barren nothingness
the inner pith hollow of ingredient
all taken from the lifeless soul
where they'd be a destitute pan
an aimless chord in the pan
containing not a wholeness of pitch
the desert abiding without soul
insolvency was its lasting tune
so hungering for that ingredient
to quell the wretched nothingness
an interior gulf replete in nothingness
needful of feeding with a brimming pan
craving much for the ingredient
that ever opulent barrow of pitch
a human warbling a pitiful tune
this ballad so dismal of soul
ingredient not present, a vast nothingness
soul much overloaded, in an unfurnished pan
pitch harping the strains, of a unfilled tune
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 9:03 PM UTC