"overruns" poems
A mirror is never just your reflection,
My mother once said
The mind has this devilish way of
Twisting
Things around
Making then a lot more or a lot less
That what stands before me
Suddenly
My face isn't my face anymore
Instead
I stare blankly at a blueprint
Society itself has hand-sketched
For me.
Post-it's on where things had gone wrong
Scribbles on things I needed less of
Highlighters on places I needed
Brighter brights
Thinner thins
And I just stood there
Watching
As these self-proclaimed architects
Unraveled
The plans they had for a body that wasn't theirs.
Accepting
The new rooms they had drawn next to the ones that already existed,
The ones that were always there
The ones I made a home out of,
The mole on my ear
That never seemed out of place
Until,
The impact of a critical post it told me so.
The place where my thighs met
I've always ignored,
Assuming I was normal
But the scribbles that
Begged
For less of me,
Proved otherwise.
The marks of stretched skin
I considered battle scars over a few calories at a buffet table
Nullified
By society's architects
Disapproved
As if it were up to them
Invalid
Like human came in the form of overruns
But I stare at this blueprint that suggests to change me from
Floor to floor
Head to toe
And wonder
If the one who owns the lot in which I am
Wonder
If He wanted to change me anymore than them
If He liked the original rooms
More than the ones carved to fit the trends
If He wanted me to ignore the architects
And the drafts of copies
And copies
And copies
Of different versions of me
Didn't He want me to accept the mirror for who I am?
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 1:15 PM UTC
her hands: blooming. sugar, hot
and humming. those wrists, sweet,
no longer sticky. yet stubborn,
reigning the laughter of two years ago.
her lips: fruit. ripe, or rotten, you
no longer remember. still, they remind you.
sin is where your body overruns your soul.
let nature trespass you once in a while.
all she wanted, to be left alone
with sky and sea. something you,
not even you, could give her. life
began to leak away in her voice,
“if the world does not stop, darling,
i just might.” and you could taste
the blood in her sigh, all those
leftovers from two years ago.
her body: gardens. the former home
of such a lovely pulse. you liked to visit
her a lot. she was once a prison of colour
in your foggy seaside town.
but the air that day: salty. streetcars unfolded
in faces you did not know. you felt the world in
past tense. “it is not only the city you have left
behind.” and your message did not reach her.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 9:55 PM UTC
~
(old beach fence)
pickets set,
once in symmetry,
straight and white...
young teeth;
now in weathered state,
discolored by
the salty spray;
rust-formed rivers
trickle down from nails,
barely tethered
to its frail frame.
in places, shifting sand,
overruns its posts,
like a winding score,
it's rhythm lagging,
holding yet its notes;
fulfilling purpose,
like an old musician,
though beaten down
by wind and storm
the music strong,
sometines pouring out
in gentle song,
oftimes belting.
out in haunting tune;
lyrics pointing,
shaking voice
still croons,
the heart still beats,
though the mind
is drifting on;
like an old,
weathered,
beach fence...
has not lost
it's relevance!
~
*post script.
in conversation with a beautiful mind, about her photo of an old beach fence. she says, “I love the loneliness in that picture, though I'm not sure why.” his answer just a hopeful guess, “i know why... it speaks of purpose and usefulness, despite age and state of repair; it speaks of direction, despite its apparent randomness... too oxymoron-ish to not be drawn in...” conversation ’tween two friends, conceiving thoughts, in particular her encouraging response with these words... “You should make that into a poem! And yes, that is exactly it!" yes indeed, she is a beautiful mind, this precious, poet friend of mine!!*
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 12:26 AM UTC
Bathtubs
don't encompass
the flicks of your upturned mouth,
or the etchings of chapped lips
that cut your tongue
when you speak.
Your milky figure
pours into the aquamarine warmth below.
The lavender colored bubbles
Pop
in eighth notes and song lyrics
which bounce off the shower curtain
to the rug,
and back.
The water overflows
its porcelain prison
to compensate for the greatness
in your voice
and gets hotter
with each and every breath
you release
from your fire-filled lungs.
It overruns the bathroom,
and floods the hall with each blink of your eye,
each wisp of your lashes,
the floorboards soaking in every freckle
until every surface of mine
is covered in every cell of you.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 1:14 PM UTC
the sky continually
undresses,
a nakedness overruns
the body.
leaving no trace
of flesh.
as thine eye be single...
sun to the sky,
sky to the sun.
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 1:21 PM UTC
When titans fall, they become legends in the hearts and minds of men.
There are stories told of their greatness, tales of their shortcomings erased.
Edified as icons and fed like fodder to the masses of the nexus.
They’re transformed into gods once their mortality overruns them,
and the people bicker and boast until sour and roast.
So **** on you all, if ever should come the day
your putrid black tongues would choose to sway.
These titans, to me, are greater than gods
the music they’ve bled is what puts us at odds.
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 11:12 AM UTC
I haven't slept.
What am I waiting for?
Death in my lungs
Carcinogens.
No it's not that,
I'm waiting till my need overcomes my fear
of sleeping.
Till my thoughts of her are engulfed
by thoughts of you.
Till my blood overruns
and spills into the street.
When my wrist heals
thanks to protein
extracted from meat.
I need sleep,
but I'm afraid of dying.
Not the flying but the landing.
because it's really crashing.
Waking
up like nothing happened.
But it did.
I am exhausted
Tell me to go to sleep
So I may hold you
while I shake and weep.
I am dying in here
decaying
in my
thoughts.
I
need to forgive
myself
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 6:52 AM UTC
I cry for you in those moments
when I feel your despair (my lost child),
in those moments
when fear overtakes,
overruns,
overrides
thinking--
when memories burst
through dams and walls
carefully constructed.
(I have had years of practice)
Panicked,
on fire--
flee
the death that waits
in the darkened corner
of your reptilian smile.
(You did this to me—to her)
And the pity,
the real pity--
You don’t know--
Can’t understand---
That I
(and she)
will pay forever
for your sin.
I cry for me.
copyright/all rights reserved AudreyHowitt 2012
Mar 12, 2012
Mar 12, 2012 at 9:10 PM UTC
When something purely sweet becomes bitter from want of bitterness itself, it is indeed a tragedy. Because of the absence of this bitter seed (the bit of yin surrounded by yang), the bitterness instead overruns the sweetness as a ****
Today, I plucked the first **** from the ground, and in its place grew two new bitter weeds.
I know in time, they will spring forth from the Earth with exponentially-increasing frequency, and I will perpetuate my own doom, compounded by the Hands of Fate spinning the Wheel of Fortune. I see myself yanking weeds only to watch them multiply with helplessly guilty eyes.
And though I know Our fate, I will not tell Him of the tragedy that is forming (swelling, swarming) within Us and between Us. I will not let Him see the weeds syphon away Our love and sap the energy of Our commitment, nor will I let Him see my futile but frenzied desperation to salvage it all. I would prefer to allow Him to think it all happened naturally, that We grew apart and it was really all okay, that it was all in order with our respective natures and we would simply be better off because hey, **** happens.
And in the end, We will lose each other in the bitterness, tangled in and smothered by the ugliness we spawned.
-LP
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 5:59 PM UTC
Mama told me
Never Fall in love
with a blond girl
God above
Seemed to say the same thing
But I ignore my God and
yours never meant **** to me
Now this blond girl
she makes me half
as good as I can be
Or is it bad to say?
All I want is today.
Start over start all over
Is it something different?
K.
1-2-3 go!
Mama told me don't you ever
fall in love with a blond girl
Lord above
he would be so angry.
The blonde is bad enough
don't let her B White!
No that just ain't right
but I had to
put up a fight
with my God and I
don't care about yours
going to stick with her for sure
She makes me so complete.
I didn't know I was empty
until she filled me up
now my cup overruns
with formless fullness grace
And I see her face in my dreams
Yeah she's wearing my
favorite pair of blue jeans.
Now on your knees
Mel kneads
Happy birthday girl from You
it means a lot that you stuck
around by my side cuz you knew I'd
be alright one day.
How did you know
something I didn't know myself
I was ready to retire
put myself up on the shelf
But you made me
Come back out and I'm
so **** glad I did
Whoah!
With you I'm finally rid
of all The pain.
Oh My heart is
a crane it
keeps reaching out to give
the
love love love
Whatever love you
give to me is multiplied
And it pours forth
like the sun Shines
Mel
a need.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 10:40 AM UTC
Forcing imagination to reestablish itself, after prescriptive onslaught of docs, scientists, specialists and quacks, lacks for ease of descriptive purpose, genuine motivation. The pills, darling, the pills usurp rational outmode. This to counteract that, which causes symptomatic supersession of more to set aside a succession imposing supplant more supplements. I submit! This breaking down of the other and then an other in a pharmaceutical battery of which ***** next? Can common sense overrule? Overruled! As another script is scribbled, a blank gaze overcomes, and the drool drips and overruns.
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 8:27 PM UTC
There's a pounding in my head
breaking down my thoughts.
You carelessly step
in the silent space of mine.
Crushing through my images
A pathway to my soul.
In your attempt to withhold
you tore down my walls:
Nothing left to lean on
and no escape from the lies you told.
Deep inside my silent mind
there's a drumming of your fears.
And my diversions take me no where:
a river which flows too deep,
of emotion you wish to drink;
or a road so dark and lonely
only tears give me comfort.
Because you pushed me to my edge.
Upon the ledge of pain I see
a landscape covered in carnage:
deceit and betrayal burn the hope,
scorched and charred my view.
There can be no forgiveness
until millennia heal this stench.
As my eyes wonder to yours,
moist with guilt and hatred,
my sorrow turns to rage:
Because even then you fail to try.
Instead I find within
A silent whispering echo: "These too are lies."
My heart overruns the pounding head
with a racing heart on fire.
I'm burnt and broken inside these thoughts,
which wonder aimlessly.
Some days I look out to the world,
wondering when I'll be done with you.
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 9:17 PM UTC
I’m not an earthling
I am here to see what is alive
I couldn’t breathe, my own mucus can still choke me
It’s this horrible feeling that nobody else gets
My skin is so thin
The illnesses inside my brain
The overwhelming laughter, mental sound
My judgment is not right
I make a fool of myself
I cling to someone incessantly
Why is it only serious
On a dark application?
And not everywhere else?
How many copies
Will I make of myself before
My mind implodes and the mucus overruns me
From both the nervousness and the excitement
They say decay
I see the breaks get taken here
My influences break my ears and spill sappy
I didn’t understand
I have an urge to delete
Something that makes other people happy
I never bring them joy
My voice is over here
I can’t read a book
Where does this urge come from?
Does doing it make me strong?
A boy once said I only care
About myself, not others
I just dismissed it as not true
But now I see it
I’m so used to
Following rules
When I break them, I don’t realize
It’s so hard to
Sustain merely myself
I try not to wrong you but I can’t right you, either
Crank up the volumes that
Exist solely in my head
They say you can’t turn that **** up
But sometimes I’m in this state
Where it’s like a mental ****
Sounds attacking me
The ringing of a doctor’s office
And the tool that they used
Planted permanently
Aug 29, 2019
Aug 29, 2019 at 6:26 PM UTC
Impossibilities in my head,
Truths in my hand,
I walk alone in the desert,
Your memories like the sand,
Flow all the way,
Through the masquerade.
Days and months, crammed in my head,
The shards fall through my hands,
As I remember,
Your eyes like the shimmering sun,
I’m lost somewhere,
Deep inside my charade,
As the fragments slip by,
I’m lost inside your eyes,
Images and words,
I’d breathe in the past,
And as the ocean overruns,
All my bridges back to you,
I’ll stare into the silence,
Tonight I won’t last,
Without you,
Without you.
The theater of my dreams,
Echoing empty feelings,
Stranger things have happened,
Still I can never walk free,
Pretending,
You never happened,
The crimson tide flows,
Colorlessly through my eyes,
I may be the one to blame,
But this is all too much,
To take in,
And the cuts only deepen.
As the fragments slip by,
I’m lost inside your eyes,
Images and words,
I’d breathe in the past,
And as the ocean overruns,
All my bridges back to you,
I’ll stare into the silence,
Tonight I won’t last,
Without you, Without you.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 11:09 AM UTC
In the cool mist of the city, I walk behind her
There is only one thing on my mind, never to be flustered
The glint of her long, shiny raven hair and silent demeanor
Has infatuated me, smitten me and utterly enraptured me
She adjusts her glasses, quietly observing the chaos around her
Only permitting a small smile or a nod here and there
I am perplexed, confused and thoroughly engulfed
In a very deep and powerful sense of yearning
Yearning to be with her, to understand her
To know her every secret, her every emotion
A zealous hunger to know every perfection and imperfection
Her moments of depression, moments of exhilaration
Her whole being is a mystery to be explored
For she is a beautiful island to be castaway to
A lush and dense forest that overruns my heart
She is the deep blue sea where I lose myself
And drown myself in the wonder of her reality
She is an insurmountable and laborious sierra
I, the foolish cragsman trying to climb her *****
And thus I shall fail, tumble and fall with no one to save me
Such is the fate of men like me who are foolish enough to try
and tempt the gods to favor their deepest aspirations
She is the lone star that illuminates my deepest nights
But her radiance is different for she does not shine harshly
Hers is but a gentle glow, a quiet aura that permeates my soul
Alas, the human condition is a sad and ugly reality
That as humans, we aspire for that which we cannot have
That even if futile, we yearn to see and hold our special star
We dream, we write, we fantasize about it
But everything is for naught, as the fates dictate it to be.
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 1:22 AM UTC
Upon birth, a seed of thought is planted
And smothered in soil
Until its cultivators find
That they’re ready to water it,
That it’s time to dictate its growth.
Once it emerges from the protective seed coat,
Nurture overruns nature,
And it takes in the nutrients bestowed upon it
To become the thing
That it’s supposed to be.
It grows on its own, away from the home,
Expected to be a tree
With a wide canopy of varying leaves
Of knowledge
That can be trimmed down if need be.
Society tracks its progress,
Ensuring that it grows as strong as possible,
A novice to be molded to its full potential,
Within the limits set,
Maybe a little more, nothing less.
A leaf can be removed if it learns one too many,
A branch torn down if it’s set too low,
Flowers modified when colors shall change.
A tree should know that all it should know
Stems from the water fed from an unknown source below.
Spoon-fed knowledge can’t account for experience.
They’ve forgotten the impacts of seasons,
Hurricane force winds,
Harmful bacteria contained within,
Invasive species,
Weathering after storms,
They’ve forgotten to account for the things
That can’t be controlled.
Nutrients can be given
And leaves can be pruned
But knowledge won’t be confined
To shining small jewels.
We don’t know a thing
So they teach what they choose
But at the end of the day
We don’t know if that’s true.
We take what we’re given
And search for much more,
But our intuition can’t be taken
And won’t be ignored.
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 5:47 PM UTC
Bogged down in the details,
truth is undone
Swimming through the corn flakes,
milk overruns
Looking at the forest,
seeing just trees
Pieces micromanaged,
—big picture tease
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 11:07 AM UTC
I don't wanna take the pills
That make me forget
How much I really miss you
It's agonizing, but it's you
The pain overruns the joy
But at least there's joy...
At times I can forget
That it was ever here
So there are days
When I just look over the pill
Fighting through the terror
For just a hit of you
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 8:21 PM UTC
Sometimes I add too
Much
Sugar so the sweet black liquid
overruns
And my coffee's spilling out the
cup
Dripping down the sides of the
mug
Until I lick up the rolling
droplets'
And pour my cream in-
to the deep-brown liquid
Where it rises to the top
And mixes,
perfect for my palate
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 8:59 AM UTC