"overwritten" poems
Violet, like the bruises you've hidden.
Indigo, like the dark circles you've overwritten.
Blue, like the opinions they've seen zoned.
Green, like the jealousy you've known.
Yellow, like the golden cage you fly in.
Orange, like the red flags you've seen.
Red, like paint when you bleed.
Do we add colour to your life,
Or do you colour ours?
Mar 8, 2023
Mar 8, 2023 at 6:51 AM UTC
Thinking with short breath, gripping my chest, sinking with stress?
Just to attest, Imagine putting stress to the test
Over pushing boundaries set with intent
Chasing leads, gaining lost time pursuing a lust with broken trust
Only to rise to the question
Can the duality of morals and ethics which define us..
Be overwritten?
Misconstrued needs for skeptics lost in line
Slowly assimilating breathless methods
Hijacked
Black rose petals spiraling to conclusion, Decomposing as if to forget this
Why don't I neglect this elusive euphoria defined in terms of confusion?
Split paths once veering in opposite directions begin running parallel
I know I'm here, but who's that there?
Ominous reflections veer back with eyes unfamiliar
A face with no definition grabs my wrist lurching me forward
Weightlessly ***** following a diverging direction with questioned intention.
Where are you taking me? (Silence)
Operating in two places at once, questioning who is the driver
Hijacked
There but ever increasingly distant, attempting to reach you
The sunrise rekindling the spark of yesterdays intuitions
Preserving eloquence like a flower in full bloom
Suddenly fades eerie in an instant, dwindling on gloomy restless expressions
Cloudy perception refracted by crystalline illusions
The evanescent cypress terpene, king of bliss
Flowing in the direction towards what has been calling it most
An icy chill enters my chest, a constant race to chase an endless quest
A ploy of acceptance with a cotton ball
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 11:50 AM UTC
Unanswered uncertainties limber up
Unwanted confrontations cumulate
Passion deliquescing over unexplored reason
Unacknowledged, ignored, overwritten and dismissed
Without consideration for his fragile heart
The answers flow broiling him, wearing him down
Scorn rejection,
When trust is misplaced,
And she exfoliates to true skin
Hatred smothers over her love act
Bogs him down by the shoulders
All seems empty, all is empty
Toyed with, lied to and used up
He is a clock rigged for self destruction
With no actions that lead to consequences
The reason seems bleak and obvious
His respect for her dies, His respect for her other doesn't exist
She is not the one he loved, she is not the one that he knew
A younger him he sees in her other
Making the same mistake he did, mislaid trust
The multifaceted chameleon that she is
The other doesn't see
Pouring his heart out and defending her wrongs
The other starts to undermine and ignore him
Move on they say,
Only his heart is too heavy
Forget her they say,
Only she was a perennial settlement in my memory, he thought
Hate her they say,
Only he hates himself more for trying
No one understands him
Everyone tries, but no one understands
He loved, he was back stabbed
He suffered and suffocated under the blanket of secrets
Lighten your heart brother, the mascot of a good soul
You will be alright.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 11:17 AM UTC
i swore to myself
that a flick of the tongue
would never shelter self-hatred
so deeply embedded into the patchwork of my being.
contagion is a sad **** thing
and cycles seem to be an endlessly contributing factor
those who hurt cannot become hurt
and so we place our self-pity at the top of our priorities
disregarding emotion so carefully hidden in the fragile mind of others.
however there are few who's torment is only self-projected
i am one
an anathema that exists in silence
my past has been placed in a box full of secrets
along with the evidence of my self-mutilation
is there a way to keep my eyes shut and my dignity revealed?
this world is numb, and the apathy must be getting to me
because i would rather not feel a **** thing
than to be plagued by misery
from myself and the ones i love
however, emotions are not choices
and humans cannot be reprogrammed
it seems the pleas and slurs i leave in place of words
are what my familiars take to heart
bodies speak such complex languages
and not everyone has the patience
or the attentiveness
to listen to anything other than a cry
and although i warn
and beg for warmth
i receive only glaciers
and memories of faces
overwritten with impassivity
what i would give
to reach into the darkest parts of my soul
and rip out this sorrow
that has clung itself to the shadows of my psyche
in the depths of my worst memories
there is a wish
a want
a need
to take this heart of mine
and throw it to wolves
to be destroyed but desensitized
in my heart
is all my pity
my lust
my anger
my sadness
and sunshine darkened and gutted
so very long ago
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC
The boys, the boys, they can't help but stare at her
as she's talking, she's walking in iambic pentameter
She breathes in italics
Words fall from her lips
San-serif movements
Punctuate her hips
She writes, she paints, her dreams soak the paper
such beauty, such beauty, my willpower waivers
Her eyes tell a story
in which I want to belong
Only she knows the ending
as she has all along
I wish, I want, a new story to start
with her, with her, with all of my heart
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 8:05 PM UTC
Sins are often forgotten.
Brain molecules are overwritten,
cell pathways erased,
as good conquers evil.
The righteous actions that ignite enlightenment
and solace for the sins we can't remember
are also eventually forgotten,
because evil also devours virtue
in what priests and monks refer to
as an ancient and everlasting battle.
Some people live out their lives in solitude.
We see them in quiet jobs,
alone in libraries and coffee shops.
They patiently wait out the battle
for the day when the struggle ends
and they finally know tranquility
Others choose action,
to play their roles as instruments, weapons,
sometimes for the forces of good
and sometimes for the forces of evil.
I’ve chosen to add my flavor of mayhem to the world,
inspired in forgotten nightmares
and during quiet car rides home
after the job has drained the last drops
of energy and self-respect.
Without the battle
humanity certainly would be boring.
Unfortunately for all of us
nothing is quite so dull
as serenity.
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 3:35 PM UTC
maybe this is
all just a film.
an indie film
starring troubled teenage girls
finding out who they truly are;
a horror film
starring an ex-convict
being haunted by
his petrifying past;
a romance film
with cringy punchlines,
sly glances in the hallways,
passing notes during sessions,
a wink or a two.
this,
what we had,
was no more than
a documentary.
the brusque strokes of color
writing the art of detaching one's heart
in a single streak,
overwritten by harsh
and rash decisions,
regret bursting
through the air,
the feeling of being torn apart
by the swaying wind,
whispering,
the curtains
finally closed.
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 6:43 AM UTC
You have to spend your days living in the present, which is a place where I can’t presently be. Miles and hours will always separate us. It’s our constant struggle. That’s why I’ll always belong to yesterday. I’m made to be a memory. Something to be overwritten. Something you’ll forget. I look to my future and I don’t even know what I’m looking at. Question marks and blurry images work against my vision and cloud my judgement. I’m walking on the paved path set before me, not even knowing how my direction has already been cemented into place. All I know is that I feel as gray as the pavement I see under my own feet. The world is so lush around me. I can feel the adventures pulling on my heartstrings. How I long to venture off into the dense green unknown. But then who will I be? If I break from the monotonous predictability from the life already set before me, will I have more or less purpose? I ask myself if I will just be lost in the idea of a dream? A question I already know the answer to. The longer I spend in a dream, the harder it is to readjust to reality. If you ever want to look, you’ll know where to find me. I’ll be living in your yesterday because I can only dream of your tomorrow.
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
icarus, i believe
is heavily overwritten
especially by me
but golden eyes
and golden wings
never melt
from the mind
of a poet;
it's our apollos
that drive our pens
to begin with
Oct 9, 2019
Oct 9, 2019 at 1:13 AM UTC
Nine times out of ten
I'm invisible
Like the forgotten bowl
Of soggy cereal
You left to go watch
Saturday morning cartoons
You know the one
Left until you're yelled at
To clean out in the sink
After it starts to smell a little
Weirder than usual
Old, warm milk
That's been sitting out for too long
A memory you'll never remember
Like the first time you fell asleep
Or your 75th day at school
Small and insignificant memories
Long ago forgotten and replaced
By the amusement park you went to
And your first real kiss
Overwritten by the big memories
The ones you'll always have
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 2:57 AM UTC
his secrets
are like ocean foam
rising to the surface
and she tries to breathe
as if it's air
her worries
are like the ocean floor
sinking further down
and he wont touch them
however deep he goes
his secrets
are like ocean foam
hushing with the waves
drowning out the noise
that rings in her ears
juvenile analogies
an attempt to make it clearer
my reflection in the water
is why i cant look in the mirror
his secrets
are like ocean foam
bubbles on the shore
and he tries to keep them
white like lies
her worries
are like the ocean floor
pressure gets to her head
he could swim forever
wouldn't make a dent
overwritten concepts
fears i shouldn't say
bury my head in the sand
until it goes away
Jan 31, 2023
Jan 31, 2023 at 10:18 AM UTC
Count the cracks on our wall..
Feel the silence envelop us all..
And as the moon beings to rise,
you will see fire in my eyes.
I'll tear down the lies
before hate is arisen.
I'll sell my soul,
so everything can be forgiven.
So please come look at me,
at how I break myself for you.
I want to change and be free
so this single one can be two.
I'll build up the courage
so nothing can keep us apart.
I'll open the locked door
that leads to your heart.
I'll break down these walls
that make up my prison.
So go on, open up your eyes,
you'll know what you need to say.
It's a simple, meaningful word
that will never be forgotten.
The most wanted set of letters
that in my heart, I confess,
will never be overwritten.
The best word that is 'Yes'
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 10:55 PM UTC
Erase
How could I have missed it for so long
Living an Ozzie and Harriet scripted life
Unable to see the reality
Long missing forgetting ignoring overlooking
How can someone erase memories
Make just a bunch of washed out snapshots
Alcohol is good at disinfecting things
It can clean a surface or erase memories
She left me those snaps shots
No usable video
How many things were wiped clean? Sanitized
Sterilized to black and white no color
I don't know, so much has been overwritten
Stumbling in the dark with a small candle
Only now seeing touched up photos
Why have these past memories been blotched
Were those formative years sanitized?
Only to be revealed at the end
Still bitter about the ending ones
Copyright 2017
Richard L Ratliff
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 7:00 PM UTC
I've always known it to be true, that love was shackled and sentenced to death by monogamy, the wretched gavel-wielder.
The mind attaches "mine" to what you love.
All that comes to know you, fall victim to a double edged curse. One in which strikes them as it strike you, but there's nothing either can do.
I knew it was love when the idea of mine no longer lashed it's furious grips upon your godly vessel.
When you told me you loved me, in that moment, my knowledge of love was reborn. There was no longer love for her, or you, or him. It was just love in all its purity.
For every coffee I've let go cold, or every beer that racing thoughts have turned warm, another clue to the truth was unfolded.
The echo that barley reached my ear, it whispered "you are love"
I was made aware of my entrapped state, by adoring your freedom, and for the first time in my life, the ********* frost from my selfishness was warmed. Not by holding you close, but by watching you roam.
An agitated ego will strip love down to loathing, and like the sunrises you adore, you too will have to travel and see each sight, to be fulfilled and find your niche. Because spreading your presence, like the wings of the most lovely dove, can save even the most broken soul.
And I will finally feel joy, because I met love, and she was beautiful. Just like those overwritten novels promised. To trap you and scrutinize you like an item of interest would destroy the very essence that flicked on the light.
So in my arms, or passing over the tropic of Capricorn, I will rejoice. Because distance cannot destroy real love.
Until then, whether istening to you softly harmonizing to your favorite song, or feeling the energy eject from your pores as you watch the sun paint a mosaic just for you. I will die more and more.
But as we both **** ourselves for each other and a smile looking back at us, and a distraction from the rapture. We are love. And love will never cease.
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 2:18 AM UTC
This lamb now caged with lions;
Soon to ride with horses
Face my subjects,—
With an overwritten expression,
Cursed by ballyhoos of vultures.
What a lampoon to be drawn in humanity,—
As they pass to my sight,—
Praying for confession— For a blessing of a new fashion,
May the tomb be the veil of thy busts
Beating drums, I shalt not stagger.
On this stage,— I untied my cloth,
Withstand the shaken land,
I hear the wailing of the sand
Mary whines blood this end..
Her Son's sleigh sweeping me..
Thy queen shalt flood— her fabric traught's pile.
I knelt on the ground,—
People whimpered with no sound
—"Be tamed Black Stalwart, for thou
art forgiven."
To here falls the dillydoun's saw...
"The raging agony and weight of
strife,— May I beseech for Mercy!
God, save this ****** ghost!—
Never wilt I feel the land again...
Light, hoise me up,—when my face
sheds.."
'Whence the uproar sham this throne blown!'
(THUD)
May 10, 2020
May 10, 2020 at 2:26 AM UTC
This was yesterday,
this was punctuality,
this was all I had left to say,
projected insanity.
Numbed or overdosed,
this case is closed,
overwritten, surplus.
There never was a thing called us.
We got what we needed, nothing more,
we got what we deserved, a saddening bore.
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 8:39 PM UTC
It is dark and beautiful here
The people bleed black rivers
The ground is a golden sore
Festering blue pus
There are shelves and shelves
Shelves filled with files
Some black, some red
Some a vertigo of emotion and color
There are spaces, where files used to be
Where the trauma has been erased
There are flimsy files
Where the trauma has been overwritten
In this beautiful, dark place
There is chaos.
There is no silence
There is no peace
There are two holes
They show something normal
These holes look to a limb
The limb bleeds red
There is silence here.
The limb bleeds after the silver
And there is blissful silence
Until the chaos returns
And so we must repeat.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 8:55 PM UTC
Sometimes I'm nostalgic
for frost flowers and a hot water bottle
old winter fantasies
to pictures of the parvis
our house full of aunties
the garden full of apples
a basket full of nuts
always something to celebrate
then, but for now
that is much too far away
now it is empty
behind the pictures
I could take with me
Missing the barren land
the wonder of the gardens
missing the unpacked smells
of the market and the passion
missing the songs of my youth
wiped and overwritten
I lead a new life
in my emigrated hand
Jul 7, 2025
Jul 7, 2025 at 3:45 AM UTC
I hand you my past
and you give me tomorrow.
We’ll repaint the grey,
do away with the sorrow,
With every ounce of our afterglow.
~
Feb 3, 2022
Feb 3, 2022 at 12:44 AM UTC
I took the sea to brest
Kissed the waves and sipped
Sipped until my lungs waterlogged
In salty sea I dried them out
Plastered algae up and down my legs
Until they bled raw, raw and chafed
And withstood the grain of sand
Withstood the coals and fires of mercy,
Mercy be great upon me
But my lover, you reside nowhere on land
Weary among driftwood longing to crumble to dust
I prayed to the heavens and I prayed not to a God
For Lir is my only and let’s face it
No release comes thence like from your holy brow
In the folds of your wings and your flame
Determined, I waited, shackled into silence
By suffocation I am breathing barely moonglow
That rests heavy on my stomach overwritten by black night
As it is slowly eaten away by *****
In your name
I was screaming, crying, praying your faith in me
For your ire and your judgement
And redemption from the world wherein I was lain.
You a poesy written in the blood of me
Choking the flow for which I begged you not to
And to hear me, gentle angel, gentle God
Gentle power of the heavens above
To claim me, for I have sacrificed.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 12:06 AM UTC
my heart urges to
create
but my mind
cannot focus on passion
can’t put aside pain
so my heart’s paintings
become plain
overwritten by
an unloving mind
Jan 24, 2023
Jan 24, 2023 at 3:14 AM UTC
Anterograde amnesia bothers,
But my old memories are fresh.
The old ones are as fresh as hours ago,
And the cold ones are as sharp as thrush.
In my previous life,
I used to be a musician.
Guitaring and fluting my everyday,
Life seemed to sweetly fade away.
My 6th sense failed me on a sunny day,
Collided and off I fell from my bike.
I fell, and I fell even deeper,
Into a comatose state on a sleeper.
A 23-day long coma existed in my story,
The 42 days in the hospital changed my life.
I remember nothing from that stay,
But I carry the vestiges of a battle.
The food-peg on my tummy,
It was incised inches above the navel.
Now even the extra navel,
It becomes smaller as it fades away.
I have no regrets,
Just the memories refuse to fade away.
With her, I am creating beautiful memories,
And the old memories will be overwritten.
Old songs are sweet,
But new ones are perfumed.
Scented with the new romance,
They will thrive and be forever bloomed.
I am happy with her,
And I can only be happier.
Not that I am immortal,
But through my memories,
And through my contribution
To science, to love, literature & poetry,
I Shall Always Survive.
Oct 27, 2020
Oct 27, 2020 at 2:05 PM UTC
It's cool to see all my friends get older
All that grey in their beards
Laugh lines and crows feet
creeping away from their faces
Life's at noon and lunch is on the table
Youth's slipping away,
but dinner still seems a far distance
and the bell has yet to be rung
I see sunshine slipping in through open doors
and a warm breeze envelopes us
as we laugh and talk over a sandwich
even though we're so far away from each other
There will be dark clouds and storms to weather
There will be tears and sadness in our hearts,
but they will be fleeting and short lived
as long as we stick together
Pictures of kids and stories of our own youth
keep us young
Our memories of the good times are just waiting
to be overwritten by better ones yet to come
We're in the twilight of our lives,
but there's a full moon in the sky
When it's dark and cold don't be afraid!
The sun will rise on us again to
warm our hearts and ease our minds
of the troubles of dark and stormy nights
We will dine together one last time
and we will cross life's last line
under a star filled sky
Smiling
Laughing
Loving
Celebrating our friendship
as we gracefully slip into the great unknown...
together
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 7:40 AM UTC
Periods of elder insanity have provided a now -and -then entrance for the creative spirit
To explore unknown avenues painted with colors , hues we cannot begin to understand ..
To go beyond the birth to death yik - yak , reaching for something
higher on the cosmic shelf , poetry on avenues currently imperceivable to the layman , human mind ..
I welcome my burgeoning loss of contact someday with this overwritten , love -hate world , praying to be released from the 'Earthly soup' and vented higher !
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC