"overstay" poems
I met her once
a little, blind girl
who had let me
inside her wonderful world.
Yes, she couldn't see,
the girl with eyes bright.
Yet, she loved her world
like she never lost her sight.
She heard the music
of the breeze that blew.
The love for her world,
it only grew.
She acquainted me with
that music she heard,
from the buzz of the bees
to the chirping of the birds.
Yes, she couldn't see
the wonders of life.
Yet, she smiled
without a sign of strife.
She had beautiful eyes
filled with wonder.
I stood speechless and thought
how could God make such a blunder?
She danced and sang
with a graceful twirl.
How she loved her life
the little, blind girl.
She smiled and laughed,
her face filled with joy.
With wonder in her eyes,
she was serene, yet coy.
She felt her world
beneath her tiny fingers
and on me left a mark
that would forever linger.
Yes, she couldn't see
the life that she felt.
Yet, she never showed
the sorrow that she dealt.
Her world was dark.
Yet, she saw
the Earth's true form
pure and raw.
Yes, she let me in.
But I couldn't overstay.
So, I excused myself politely
and quietly walked away.
I had met her once
a little girl who couldn't see.
Yes, she was a child
but the happiest there could ever be
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 8:13 AM UTC
Longing for just one more day
Longing for a simple delay
I don't want to leave but i can't overstay
Longing for something far away
Longing for a full replay
Longing to be back
Please point the way
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 4:39 PM UTC
Nothing I do is good enough for you
I hate myself
Wipe the table clean with tears and tissue
All I am is deficit to you
My worthlessness
Another mouth to feed
We are each over-expectant
Hoping for the incredible
Imagining more than what we’re served
Denying reality
Each destroyers
Of our own dreams
The moral compass
Keeps teetering towards disaster
Not-so-distant past lingers
I want to go back to my own people
But my own people don’t exist anymore
Except in cartoon version
Everything is collapsing fast
Nothing is gradual
When did the present
Overstay its welcome?
I am desolate dictator
Of empty room
What do you do with your scabs?
Not the little flakey ones
I mean the big chunky crusty ones?
I throw them in pan and sauté them
With olive oil, onion salt, a little pablano pepper
Serve them to myself and ghost dog
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 4:35 AM UTC
Yes, I was in Thailand prison for many several months for visa overstay
Then deported, my plans were thwarted to teach school to help dek dek (Thai word for children)
What the hell heck?
Why the penalty? I'm not the enemy!
The weird thing I saw was the nicest guys were in prison camp too, what bad did they do?
All the inmates were good to each other; an odd array of global brothers
It was fun to play bamboo broom guitar like I was the jail house rock star
"Play some more rock-n-roll for us!" they would shout.
Felt young, no mirror to see my wild un-flattered looks
Wrote my best songs on empty pages in old tattered books
The Thai warden was nice to me, gave me coconut cookies for free
(He had no front teeth!)
I made each man jump and work out... Kids age 16 to amputee
All cheered for my creativity...
The day I was released, they all rushed to cry to say our farewells and goodbyes
I had more fun in Thailand prison then now that I am back in USA, funny huh?
Camaraderie is a true commodity!
God bless Thai children who told me they loved me, while USA kids throw rocks at me!
True story
D. Clare
I love Bangkok #1
Am Dop Nueng!
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 9:56 PM UTC
Love someone who you cannot even
look in the eye:
it's not the demons in their self
but the way they make your heart
skip two beats instead of one
and maybe the realization that
they need not more than one look to know
you have already decorated a heart shaped room
in your ribs for them to find their home.
That's all they'll need to know
how once they let you in
you'll overstay
and lose your mind every time
their footsteps echo in the silent soundbox
of your conscious.
We don't talk of storms when they aren't already there;
if they can't fix you up,
they'll teach you how to ache instead,
and perhaps I'll learn to forget how to
give myself away in my smiles
and scribbles.
and scribbles.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 2:28 PM UTC
Feet. Gnarled, scabbed and bent at the bone. Where‘s the beauty? I look at my toenails, my arms around my knees, as tears roll down and hit the sidewalk. The splash is exciting, and a thousand images come to mind.
I stand as I take in everything around me, savoring each breath, watching the colors enter my mouth.
The wind. It’s colorful here. Rolling rainbows of blues and greens and reds caress the buildings around me. It’s astounding when it blows.
Last week, the sun exploded into a thousand little ***** of light and they float around me now, serene and inert. Only when I walk do those in my path slowly twirl out of my way.
Slowly, slowly. As if they are moving through gelatin, as if they are slightly begrudged that I‘m counteracting their inertia.
I know that this is beauty. It is beauty that is this place. I would give up every element comprising my being to have this beauty with me when I leave, but I know I can’t overstay my welcome.
I place my foot onto a step behind me and I walk up. There is a balcony above me where I bring my camera. I sit on this ledge and I let my feet hang over and I try to capture everything this beauty is.
But it can’t be done. I have tried so many times to take this place, to put it in my pocket. But it can’t be done. No matter how many times I try, or how many ways I turn my camera, I can’t capture it.
I set the camera down after a couple minutes and I look to my left. A little ball of sun is floating beside my head. I stick a finger out to poke it and, as if by a magnetic field, it slowly pushes itself back when I am but a mere inch away. I try again, and fail. I put both hands out, cupping, as if to net it. I miss, and we play this game for a while.
But the suspense goes nowhere, and the ball of sun finally anticlimactically slips a few feet away. Disappointed, I stand up and walk slowly down the steps, my hand on the edge of the wall next to me.
The suns begin to lose their brightness, and I know it is time for me to go. I’m almost sad, knowing that I won’t see beauty like this until the next time I am able to return here.
Almost. This place is so great, so majestic, I can’t help but leave with a sense of pride, knowing I am privileged enough to come here.
With a final look back, I take in the glow of the setting ***** of sun against the background of the wind. I hesitate at the bridge, to put my hair back up into a ponytail. I slip back into my sneakers and I put on my lip gloss. I’m ready to go back to the side of the world from which I came.
I have to catch my breath as I prepare myself for the world I’m returning to. I breathe in deeply, and I look down, at my feet. Gnarled, scabbed, and bent at the bone. Where’s the beauty?
I take a reluctant, mournful step onto the bridge
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 10:52 PM UTC
Familiarity has no antidote -
simple memories
turn so bitter
and time passes
but they don't wither...
futile memories:
why is there a delay
in the process of decay?
cringe inducing memories
always overstay their visit
perhaps lovely if they weren't
so appealing and illicit
Familiarity has no antidote -
But I'm not sure I even wanted one
Mar 13, 2011
Mar 13, 2011 at 7:14 PM UTC
i gave you the room key
just to stay for one night
but you've been extending
coming back even at daylight
you run in the clouds
and walk in the sun,
your overstay has hit its time
so when are you checking out, ***
Mar 30, 2021
Mar 30, 2021 at 6:47 PM UTC
I asked myself to this day
Weather or not I would be the same
If they just stayed together, if they just didn’t split.
I had thought things would get better, that nothing would ever change
But that was wrong
and the longer I care
the more I drown in my salty lake of tears
That’s hidden under my bed from the world who thinks I’m smiling.
I wonder to this day
If only they let me watch as he moved away
Instead of sending us to naptime
And let us wake up to change.
Seeing him a reck and her in joy made me feel broken too
And the longer I care
The more I drown in my salty lake of tears
That’s hidden under my bed from the world who thinks I’m smiling.
I question to this day
If my mom told truth to us or lied to us to get agreement.
She said we were a packaged deal, he’d love us all the same,
Was I just a gullible four year old then
Or was it a truth that changed, I don’t know
But the longer I care
The more I drown in my salty lake of tears
That’s hidden under my bed from the world who thinks I’m smiling.
I worry to this day
If I’d ever get phased out
If one McKay was an up roar
What would the rest be like?
Only the three of us left and we all feel left so lonely and cold
But the longer I care
The more I drown in my salty lake of tears
That’s hidden under my bed from the world who thinks I’m smiling.
I still feel the pain, the morn, and the scrutiny to this day
Even after 10 years have past
Anxiety rules me
Making fear overstay its welcome
Making me care
And pushing my head beneath my salty lake of tears.
That’s hidden under my bed from the world who thinks I’m smiling.
I noticed to this day
That if I don’t care
I won’t feel the pain, the fear, the insane
The triggers might go away
And why these things won’t just go away, I really do not know.
I do know that the path I took had a lot of broken trees and dying flowers,
And I know that I’m tired of drowning over and over in my salty lake of tears
That’s hidden under my bed from the world who thinks I’m smiling.
But I can’t stop caring
so I continue to drown.
I can’t tell you why, simply because I don’t know myself.
But I think the world thinks I’m smiling because I let them,
Not because they don’t want to read the rest of this boring, dusty book,
But because I put a lock on it and hid the key.
So I care, and care
Until I am submerged by my salty lake of tears,
That’s hidden under my bed from the world who I let think I’m smiling
Dec 8, 2019
Dec 8, 2019 at 7:00 PM UTC
The space between our awkward bones
is like the water you let in when it rains;
it's not a lot
but it's always too much.
Sometimes there are letters between your lips
that try to spell out words you've never said out loud.
Something about secrets make us feel a little closer.
I'm always sure to keep my lips closed
when tucked away words try to escape off my tongue;
I swallow them instead.
Because secrets also scare us away.
The air is different when you're in the room.
It's not any warmer or cooler,
not really dryer or thicker;
just easier to breathe.
Sometimes a song makes me think of you.
But then again, most things do
and maybe nothing about it has to do with you;
it’s merely a justification for the creases of my mind
being stuffed with my crumpled up curiosities
and lined up polaroids of all of your expressions.
I’ve imagined us old,
sitting on a porch together facing an open lake
with our favorite authors in hand.
Every couple of pages one of us is caught
with our gaze on the other,
and as soon as we lock eyes
we'll blush and grin and look back to the places we left off.
I've imagined it once or twice.
Maybe three times.
I'd never tell you that.
There's one continent on Earth for each story that you tell,
but I swear,
I'd go in endless circles around the world
just to hear you laugh at each one every time.
And I'd smile as if I'd never been there before,
betting on the chance that your smile might overstay its welcome.
The way you love is like a book I haven't read yet.
There are words written in permanent marker on all the places of me
that only you can have;
and every word you choose to write is one I've never heard before
but now that I know it, no other word could be right.
Sometimes I hold my own hand,
Rest my own head on my shoulder,
Run my own fingers through my hair,
just to imagine what it is you like about them.
I'm not yet sure,
but I beg them every day
not to let you stop.
I don't believe in soulmates and you don't believe in souls.
We can love anyone we want to,
but if your soul had a color,
I think it'd be the color I dream in.
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 10:10 PM UTC
Like sinews and sutures,
Our bodies interlock,
Separated only by our breath.
Softer skin would be a liquid,
and softer eyes would be transparent.
A softer smile would be a kiss,
experienced by sight.
An arm, a clutch, your fingers crossed,
with words I lie here as I lay.
And in our words are we so lost,
but "we" is how we'll find our way.
A forest waiting to be cleared,
Impending doom for innocence,
Our kisses and our thoughts appear
Already dying, in a sense.
But senses don't deceive themselves,
Like light which yonder breaks.
Morning brings me mild mourning:
It's you the daytime takes.
So stay in spirit, tangled one,
Or overstay your stay.
And no more mourning will be found,
If we have our way.
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 10:16 PM UTC
it’s only i get a little scratchy across my shins at 1:33
forehead against work desk
leant down to run a track on my legs
phone untouched, shortcuts retraced
HTT ..PS//
ishouldntcheckyoursocials. us.
couldn’t make me an addict of loss
which really is the untapped potential
for the future internet of things
safari, waystone.
safari, favourer of webpage rerunners,
safari, guide me back to a bookmarked
cliff-edge of ache.
cookies know me better than my housemate who’s sweetness blocked his accounts before something broke and we’d have to talk about it.
once the whiter lines appear on shinskin like my algorithm
I can sit back up
if not satiated at least appeased
the sound my lungs make isn’t really laughing or crying but
a wheeze.
Mar 27, 2024
Mar 27, 2024 at 9:45 AM UTC
She calls everybody "love" so how is it special when She says it to me?
Ive never really noticed till now thats just her way I guess.
Now Im torn again though not as bad as the first game of slight of heart!
Ive got to come to terms with the way I feel or let it drag me down this time for real.
She captivates me completely and I seem not to hold her gaze and still I manage to torture myself into the dieing days.
I beg her touch to free me from this My prison cell, Her face all that I see. I beg her touch to my heart relent to feel her skin again.
She keeps me holding open the vail that hides away the things I like not to share. Share them all with her Ive done and Most Ive told no one else.
I let myself float away so I can feel hows shes made me feel before and all I see Is her standing there looking up at me.
She walk beside me hand in hand yet her hand is not the one I hold.
Attached it may be but its not givin freely, perhaps one day it will be so that I might be that close.
Ill let myself out, I dont wish to overstay my welcome here so I will see myself to the door. Please dont, however, think of me as gone, Ill come back round from time to time just to see Whats new in town and see if and where you can be found...
Nov 14, 2010
Nov 14, 2010 at 12:51 PM UTC
that sunset was a solemn thing
in breaking hearts would love dare ring
a beauty that should be so bold
to turn my lover’s courage cold
and still I believe true that I
in deep confusion loved the sky
but light of love did overstay
the sun set one year late that day.
and so I watched the marbled clouds
be rid of all their silver shrouds
prepared for melancholy night
and frigid fangs of lost love’s bite
and in the waning sunlight soft
a single mourning dove aloft
did wake the stars in dying light
which took the sky with drawing night
and when I gazed upon the stars
at last I saw they weren’t so far
with all the thousands in the sky
it’s not so hard to say goodbye.
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 7:54 PM UTC
I want to run away,
away from where they want me to stay,
away from a world where everybody is living astray,
a world where the rich may overstay,
but where the poor are kept away..
a world where devilish persons are given love instead of hate,
a world where the poor and weak are being left with their old same fate..
they said
'In humanity have faith'
what is humanity?
where is sympathy?
All we are doing is hailing money,
instead of healing the needy..
we are living in a world where even animals are getting their rights..
but where the poor ones are still kept out of sights..
they who spend their nights without lights,
they who accept their fate without fights,
they who live their entire life without delights..
they who no matter what the day is,live their lives with every kind of frights..
Saving a life is more than ending your life with drugs..
Giving someone one more reason to live is more than being thugs..
Billions of people out there screaming for succour,
Yet all we do is show rancour..
We are all human beings,
Are we humiliated when giving the poor ones awnings?
Are the rich ones the only ones worthy of blessings?
Are they all gonna have the old same endings?
Rich,not everybody can be,
but everybody deserves the door to a happy life's key..
whether we're talking about a poor man or a rich man,
or a poor woman or a rich woman,
we are all human beings,
then what is preventing us from being human?
Be the light to guide those who can't see in the dark..
because it could have been you,
like it could have been me,
They can be saved by you..and me!
Together we can make them become who they deserve to be..
a somebody instead of a nobody..
I ain't running away because i still have faith in humanity..
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 11:38 AM UTC
I am not feeling okay
The thoughts that were at bay
Are starting to weigh
Heavy on my mind
Heavy on my heart.
My thoughts start to sway
Guiding me astray
With its
overplay
and overstay.
Pieces of me
Start to fall away
Fade away
Further away.
I am starting to breakaway;
Flay away.
My mind frays
As my thoughts start to play,
my hands start to pray
And my words start to blow away
the people I hold so dear.
I will defray
Soon
But for now I am going to splay
my ache into words.
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 6:55 AM UTC
If you place a welcome mat outside your heart and invite me in for tea,
I'll take too long to gather my belongings
and my hands will linger on the door **** as I leave.
You'll have to wake me from the depths of my dreams because I already know I'll fall asleep,
and the infrared exit signs are the only ones I never see.
And all the while you'll be thinking of excuses, like the ones my dad used to make when the pantry was empty and so was his wallet or like the ones your dad made, the time he disappeared for months after seeing little blue balloons.
But I'll have a solution for every potential problematic goodbye
And I'll probably talk until the morning light and ignore the apathy in your eyes or the sympathy in your smile and you'll grow silent after a while and I'll question what the problem is,
but I won't see that my departure should've been the answer to this, until it was too late,
just like the time your dad disappeared for years after seeing the little blue balloons.
I'll try to lose track of time by staring at the moon.
I'll always overstay my welcome, but maybe you'll want me to stay because he didn't.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 1:29 AM UTC
we are always on our way
we beat our chests,
broken clocks, we are honest twice a day.
our groundhogs overstay
in cuckoo nests
we are always on our way
in metric evenings led astray,
most of us have been recessed,
broken clocks, we are honest twice a day.
we are made to coil halfway,
beat those who love us best
we are always on our way.
we make time prepaid
and tendons compressed,
broken clocks, we are honest twice a day
we say
we are guests
we are always on our way
broken clocks, we are honest twice a day.
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC
Anger. Old friend. I used to
Fear you. Now you are
A tool;
Seeing me assertive when
Others fail to act.
Pumping crimson oil through
The hydraulics of my Must,
Move and This when
Something's there that
Shouldn't. Yes, you may fill
My eyes with the Black of
Blacks when faced with
Spite and inconsideration;
The kind of Black that keeps
Loved ones safe.
Anger. Old friend. Finally
Wise enough not to
Overstay your welcome.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 8:41 AM UTC
empty rooms remind me of you
empty pill bottles have become guests that overstay their welcome in my home
your empty promises are my lullaby to drown out the silence of the night
I call just to hear your voicemail in case I forget what you sound like
as if I'll ever forget your voice the day you said goodbye
most vacant spaces bare a strange resemblance to my heart since then
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC
Those little scrapes and cuts that eye obtain just from living; often, no, always, unaware from where or wince, or whence....they came, and more oblivious to their invisible departure...but I do notice this:
their stay, for they overstay their welcome....unlike in my youth, these scratches would barely pass the night, and be gone before the next morn....
now I do not know when they come or when they go, but stay and stay and stay. For the skin repairs itself so much slower when you are older....and you think just a little how it ain't no different with the heart cuts 'n scars, fresh and old. Same, you get older, you notice them, can't exactly recollect when you earned them...but
you feel them hanging on to you, as if they came with you when you were new in the showroom.....but didn't show up till whenever
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 3:18 AM UTC
heed on to what you say
Or this creed
LOst
in Earth's
decay.
You lead but, can't you deLay?!
I don't know a thing but to overstay.. my welcome!
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 2:46 AM UTC
there's a decency to ignorance- but it does tend to overstay it's welcome
when eating less and weighing more- consider cutting out carbs and toxic masculinity
they say love and war are opposing acts- however forgiveness is granted to those unable to distinguish the difference
hating things is not a personality trait- but it is a pretty cool pasttime
the problem with ignorance is not that you don't know things- it's that you don't know that you don't know things
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 1:49 AM UTC