"overstate" poems - Hello Poetry

I sing of life at state expense a state devoid of common sense addicted to obesity impolitic in body weight yet headed for austerity as other people’s money ends plebeian class-revolt transcends our bureaucratic history. They stack the monthly welfare decks complain the service second-rate those sullen clients, thankless louts pajama-clad with tattooed pouts whose girlfriends swell while babies cry; the fathers mumble, sagging high and wait in lines. The women try to fool the lunar period conceptions waxing myriad while teenage dads discover *** and social workers cash the checks the daily urban nightmare is enough to scare a nation broke in clouds of marijuana smoke: the cashless global mystery. The breeders born in tropic lands are tempted till they take the bait no baby-momma understands what family means, what life demands Your undertakers overstate in order to remunerate your Democratic history: a bankrupt urban mystery the not-so-Great Society. The ghetto sperm-donation ploy makes babies but maintains the boy to run around from mom to mom slow-motion population bomb as if to merely demonstrate that social program funders wait till number-crunchers aggravate the urban teenage welfare state.

0

Apr 18, 2016

Apr 18, 2016 at 4:36 PM UTC

connecthook

Farewell, Welfare

I sing of life at state expense a state devoid of common sense addicted to obesity impolitic in body weight yet headed for austerity as other people’s money ends plebeian class-revolt transcends our bureaucratic history. They stack the monthly welfare decks complain the service second-rate those sullen clients, thankless louts pajama-clad with tattooed pouts whose girlfriends swell while babies cry; the fathers mumble, sagging high and wait in lines. The women try to fool the lunar period conceptions waxing myriad while teenage dads discover *** and social workers cash the checks the daily urban nightmare is enough to scare a nation broke in clouds of marijuana smoke: the cashless global mystery. The breeders born in tropic lands are tempted till they take the bait no baby-momma understands what family means, what life demands Your undertakers overstate in order to remunerate your Democratic history: a bankrupt urban mystery the not-so-Great Society. The ghetto sperm-donation ploy makes babies but maintains the boy to run around from mom to mom slow-motion population bomb as if to merely demonstrate that social program funders wait till number-crunchers aggravate the urban teenage welfare state.

40

Bone by bone he falls apart. Nothing to hold him together, no nerves, no muscles, no heart. He lies on the floor in a scattered pile, dust slowly collecting bit by bit, and still he wears that haunting smile. He is not losing, nor can he win. He is not happy, he cannot feel, yet still he dons that mocking grin. Most cry out for his poor lost soul, knowing that he breathes no more and never again will he be whole. Alone I envy that pile of bones. Never again will he suffer of hurt, he has found his resting place among the stones. Maybe my green eyes are being severe, but my logic seems sound and concise, and my feelings have never been clearer. I do not desire to share his state, I wish to breathe in the cool night air, this is a stance I cannot overstate. Though still his teeth and empty eyes have gotten deep down under my skin because his prying glare shall tell no lies.

0

Mar 7, 2012

Mar 7, 2012 at 6:04 PM UTC

heather-danielle-ashley

Skeleton

Bone by bone he falls apart. Nothing to hold him together, no nerves, no muscles, no heart. He lies on the floor in a scattered pile, dust slowly collecting bit by bit, and still he wears that haunting smile. He is not losing, nor can he win. He is not happy, he cannot feel, yet still he dons that mocking grin. Most cry out for his poor lost soul, knowing that he breathes no more and never again will he be whole. Alone I envy that pile of bones. Never again will he suffer of hurt, he has found his resting place among the stones. Maybe my green eyes are being severe, but my logic seems sound and concise, and my feelings have never been clearer. I do not desire to share his state, I wish to breathe in the cool night air, this is a stance I cannot overstate. Though still his teeth and empty eyes have gotten deep down under my skin because his prying glare shall tell no lies.

24

I want to be the last bough bending by a brook as a dozen on-lookers overstate the understood in a field of frantic fever-fighters fixated on the moon. Stop, drop, break a neck, then lay in bed and recollect the days before the disconnect when you kept your bright eyes side-lined in complexified complacency while the golden winged effigy decayed into degen'racy. Multi-state probes propelled by a whim skitter like arachnids on the surface of your skin with words like a finger pointing at the sun that stop making sense before their job lies done. Who now will step down celestially with alchemical agility just to let The Spirit flow through them with exponential intensity as imaginal orthogonality skips with divinity? When'll be best to choose to confuse and diffuse every up-tight, no-sight tool on the loose then flak shrapnel to the castle as a billion petty hassles gathered up and coalesced as interrupted innocence? 'Til then these strides keep pace with the center of the storm, just inside the whirling swarm of wailing souls abandoned and forlorn.

0

Nov 26, 2014

Nov 26, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC

d-simpson

Chicken-Legged Body Builders

I want to be the last bough bending by a brook as a dozen on-lookers overstate the understood in a field of frantic fever-fighters fixated on the moon. Stop, drop, break a neck, then lay in bed and recollect the days before the disconnect when you kept your bright eyes side-lined in complexified complacency while the golden winged effigy decayed into degen'racy. Multi-state probes propelled by a whim skitter like arachnids on the surface of your skin with words like a finger pointing at the sun that stop making sense before their job lies done. Who now will step down celestially with alchemical agility just to let The Spirit flow through them with exponential intensity as imaginal orthogonality skips with divinity? When'll be best to choose to confuse and diffuse every up-tight, no-sight tool on the loose then flak shrapnel to the castle as a billion petty hassles gathered up and coalesced as interrupted innocence? 'Til then these strides keep pace with the center of the storm, just inside the whirling swarm of wailing souls abandoned and forlorn.

1

Wine for the church, Water for the poor, leaving ashes of blood, Underestimating love Bodies feel cold with their prays, Expressions get reduce through their truth, But they will underestimate Phrases that will change the minimum thought of law, And we all share the same blood, But we all live the same hopes, drinking the pure selfishness of their books May they judge their own coverage? May they proof wrong from our living? Could there be more excuses from them to keep excluding us? There’s not a lot for them to defend, But they had proven their power to prohibit And lies to overstate But I heard that their father loves everyone equally, Which his sons have proven wrongly, In which galaxy we’ll be eating from the same plate? When we’ll be kissing the same face? But we all share the same blood, And we all live the same hopes, Drinking the pure selfishness out of their world Wine for church, Water for the poor, Leaving ashes of blood, Underestimating love.

0

Jun 18, 2015

Jun 18, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC

ariz-portal

Untitled

Wine for the church, Water for the poor, leaving ashes of blood, Underestimating love Bodies feel cold with their prays, Expressions get reduce through their truth, But they will underestimate Phrases that will change the minimum thought of law, And we all share the same blood, But we all live the same hopes, drinking the pure selfishness of their books May they judge their own coverage? May they proof wrong from our living? Could there be more excuses from them to keep excluding us? There’s not a lot for them to defend, But they had proven their power to prohibit And lies to overstate But I heard that their father loves everyone equally, Which his sons have proven wrongly, In which galaxy we’ll be eating from the same plate? When we’ll be kissing the same face? But we all share the same blood, And we all live the same hopes, Drinking the pure selfishness out of their world Wine for church, Water for the poor, Leaving ashes of blood, Underestimating love.

8

Maybe it was my fate to always hate To loathe and despise After all love and hate they stand side by side at the same entry gate into the mind. Sedate I'd feel the need to vent to isolate, to feel Something, anything, a negative rather than a positive. To overstate my need. My want to hate would obviate and obscure my fate. Hate doesn't differentiate Hate needs no explaining Emanate hate, and you are guarded from others, and yourself. Love allows disappointment Hate allows the known. Hate humiliates me, this I know It manipulates, resonates and reverberates But, this I know Hate like a crow will pick my carcass like carrion. Please let love pervade Please let love venerate Please let love in at the gate.

0

Apr 24, 2014

Apr 24, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC

Camellia-japonica

Hate

Maybe it was my fate to always hate To loathe and despise After all love and hate they stand side by side at the same entry gate into the mind. Sedate I'd feel the need to vent to isolate, to feel Something, anything, a negative rather than a positive. To overstate my need. My want to hate would obviate and obscure my fate. Hate doesn't differentiate Hate needs no explaining Emanate hate, and you are guarded from others, and yourself. Love allows disappointment Hate allows the known. Hate humiliates me, this I know It manipulates, resonates and reverberates But, this I know Hate like a crow will pick my carcass like carrion. Please let love pervade Please let love venerate Please let love in at the gate.

27

time and god trade barbs clothed in genericide. metaphor’s child is a condensed version of what the kids these days call retarded. younger, my pain was outdated but had its own phone. I meet my parents. I begin to act like my son. I leave myself to marry what is mourned to how it grieves. older, I go alone at night to where I am worried. like existence, I overstate my daughter’s angelic disability. my wife hears what is heard by one who flits from mirror to mirror. I lose a black wallet. I pray. sky for the dollhouse, amen.

0

May 8, 2014

May 8, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC

barton-d-smock

correctives

time and god trade barbs clothed in genericide. metaphor’s child is a condensed version of what the kids these days call retarded. younger, my pain was outdated but had its own phone. I meet my parents. I begin to act like my son. I leave myself to marry what is mourned to how it grieves. older, I go alone at night to where I am worried. like existence, I overstate my daughter’s angelic disability. my wife hears what is heard by one who flits from mirror to mirror. I lose a black wallet. I pray. sky for the dollhouse, amen.

1

Pretentious people you will never know the endless entertainment that you provide me with! But if you did... you would probably overstate it.

0

Nov 28, 2014

Nov 28, 2014 at 9:40 PM UTC

rhianecdote

The Present Pretense

Pretentious people you will never know the endless entertainment that you provide me with! But if you did... you would probably overstate it.

6

Was it Italy? Was it Scotland? Or was it Britain? Nevertheless, I’ll say I’ll never know when I’m thinking about it then? Was it Italy? Was it Scotland? Or was it Britain? Taking little Italy out of Italy was devastating... It’s almost like I can never overstate nor any hesitation. Was it Scotland? And All I have ever been. Or was it Britain? All I ever said it mustn’t be any bit of pieces of him. Just like it’s mentioned. Was it Scotland? Or was it Britain? I’ll never know until I cross between them. They’ll say it’s scary of a sacrifice to know either which one is right? Maybe neither of it and I’ll still be alright. Alright is the time to feel like I’m not stuck in these daydreams of daytime or daylights. Because when I’ll know it’ll be over until without either a fight. Fight until worthy comes into a good kiss morning into the nights I’ll find my Scotland or Britain and without it, I’m not gonna go sorting out of my wilderness. Because without my Scotland Because without Britain. I’m nothing but land without a name whose name shall be called I’ll find it when I’m there again.

0

Jan 26, 2021

Jan 26, 2021 at 2:09 AM UTC

dianekpak

A turntable for two cities

Was it Italy? Was it Scotland? Or was it Britain? Nevertheless, I’ll say I’ll never know when I’m thinking about it then? Was it Italy? Was it Scotland? Or was it Britain? Taking little Italy out of Italy was devastating... It’s almost like I can never overstate nor any hesitation. Was it Scotland? And All I have ever been. Or was it Britain? All I ever said it mustn’t be any bit of pieces of him. Just like it’s mentioned. Was it Scotland? Or was it Britain? I’ll never know until I cross between them. They’ll say it’s scary of a sacrifice to know either which one is right? Maybe neither of it and I’ll still be alright. Alright is the time to feel like I’m not stuck in these daydreams of daytime or daylights. Because when I’ll know it’ll be over until without either a fight. Fight until worthy comes into a good kiss morning into the nights I’ll find my Scotland or Britain and without it, I’m not gonna go sorting out of my wilderness. Because without my Scotland Because without Britain. I’m nothing but land without a name whose name shall be called I’ll find it when I’m there again.

25

I could write a Haiku for you Even a poem titled "100 reasons why" I could fill endless marble notebooks And I wouldn't even have to try I could find obscene amounts of synonyms To describe the way I feel when I'm around you. I could use metaphors and imagery, painting pictures that astound you. Although I'm not quite so certain, about those hyperboles I find it hard to think I could overstate, the resounding power you have over me.

0

Jul 31, 2017

Jul 31, 2017 at 1:48 PM UTC

serendipitywx

Untitled

I could write a Haiku for you Even a poem titled "100 reasons why" I could fill endless marble notebooks And I wouldn't even have to try I could find obscene amounts of synonyms To describe the way I feel when I'm around you. I could use metaphors and imagery, painting pictures that astound you. Although I'm not quite so certain, about those hyperboles I find it hard to think I could overstate, the resounding power you have over me.

9

When you mean What you overstate There comes A gap that some o your friends Won't rate Cos they clearly Don't care for Where you Head for The gate And dive Through.

0

Jan 4, 2025

Jan 4, 2025 at 6:38 PM UTC

Jimmysilker

GANGWAY!!!

When you mean What you overstate There comes A gap that some o your friends Won't rate Cos they clearly Don't care for Where you Head for The gate And dive Through.

12