"panging" poems
I've got an affection, this affliction
It's bringing me down,
But all the while I am bouyed by such an emotion.
It invades my mind, muddles my devotion-
Nearly makes all function impossible
This diseased mind has only one mission: to be with it's affliction- this affection, you see.
The only cure is in vaccination, filled exactly with what infection you bring
As it courses through my system, I can feel the sorrow soothe;
The panging in my heart stops...
Did my heart stop?
Yes,
This condition, no longer contagion
It makes me happy to say,
Is with sensation, fighting cessation...
Still my only ambition is for you, my love, to stay.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 7:30 AM UTC
Promised a life of sweetness
Said you wanted to take care
Feel better feel better feel better
For worse.
My soul says no to you
But body
she begs me
Always for more
I'm sick
I'm Tired
Of shoveling you in
putting you inside me
betraying all that I am
I am finished decaying
But sweet tooth wont stop panging
Oh, how desperate
always
for more
And I see that coat of yours fall to the floor... just a story the tongue
told to open a door
Now I find holes in my heart,
Cavities.
Galore
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 3:38 AM UTC
It’s time for a rhyme
I hear you chime.
It’s time to hit the beat.
We’re ready to dance
Without a glance,
Pick up those Tyger feet.
Those drums do thump,
Dancers grind and bump,
The party’s in full sway.
Don’t feel like strolling,
Just want to be rollin’
In the scattered hay.
Them guitars are twanging
I’m really panging
To twirl you round and round.
Some like to fight;
I’d rather dance all night
To that raucous rebel sound.
Let’s go.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
The bitter despair of the world,
its entirety,
profanes and shrieks
louder than banshee
or immense Tourette
for release.
and no, it isn't fair
that one should carry
alltheweight
but itisso.
static and frigid
perpetual panging echoes
and so the sooty waterfalls
erode Grand canyons
from the sandstone, the ugly grittiness
of my poisoned empty essence.
too charming,
rhyme and rhythm
slither greasily and gassily,
segregating.
bourgeois and homeless verse
never Touch.
and so even my Own words war
and hack more than cult horror films
that flicker on the moldy bleeding brick
of narrow sweating alleys
that have seen
rapeandmurderandfearandlustandgreed
and muchworse.
but it is all of my kind; the residence of my mind
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 5:51 PM UTC
Late night, into the morning, in a lonesome bed still yawning
Vest on my chest and a tingle between my legs, I'm mourning
It's a confusing feeling, the thoughts in my brain are calling
Seven years old and the appealing feelings are appalling
Vexed by the *** that my peers are having
I stay with boys, on the corner, hanging
Moving crack rocks, ******* slanging
But my hormones know and leave me panging
Caught by my father as a guy goes down
Kicked all around and thrown of of town
Homophobe Dad don't want me around
Now I'm just searching eternally for a sound
They called me immoral and assumed my brain unsound
Moving product, all I ever wanted was to wear that crown
Like Omar on The Wire, King of the streets, feared all around
They have no love, after being caught my life crashed down
I traveled the street loathsome and alone I always dined
Until I met the man I adore and we saw the changing times
We marched for freedom and worked within the lines
Now I have a love that I can say is all mine
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 2:57 PM UTC
I found a wise old man
over the weekend.
He was not condescending;
the wise man was my friend.
And I did not climb stairways
to meet my learned elder,
I fell o’er a threadbare cat;
listened, whilst I held her.
He crooked a swollen finger,
for he was hard of hearing,
far off eyes, a vapour blue;
not empty, and not leering.
And he chuckled in my ear:
All the answers he had found,
which the flowers chinese whispered
across the foreign grounds.
The way he told it showed me
how his gentle life solutions
were distorted and quite faded
after those emotional ablutions.
Yet each tale was a comfort;
marked one pretty girl, long lost;
beside him, pretty, every day,
despite the draining cost.
Then the blue sky clouded over
his eyes scruted the garden
I questioned ‘Are you well…?’
see the flesh cracks harden.
***** you? Leave me; GET OUT”
for I was not his friend.
And then the nurses came,
though his confusion did not end.
I walked down to the front
for the afternoon was finished;
he no longer knew my name,
though I’d seen his mind diminish.
What a panging pain it is
to share with him cream tea,
whilst his mind is being taken
by that calm, corrosive sea.
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 11:24 AM UTC
Why can’t anyone else hear the music?
The sound so alluring and entrancing.
It guides my every step in this melancholy world.
It spins around me and in me like the quiet kiss of a an Autumnal breeze.
The colors are sounds, every note a changing mood lifting my spirit with each new song.
Each new aria swelling and deluging my soul.
This feeling of devastating peace I cannot describe nor live without.
So why can’t you hear it?
Why can’t you feel it?
It’s so emphatic so intrusive and belligerent yet here I stand in the midst of this crescendoing chorus, ears ringing with this music but nobody dances.
And no amount of sonder can take this isolating feeling away.
This panging loneliness that cradles me.
Why am I the only one?
Why can’t you carry this sustaining chord along side me?
I though I saw you hear it once.
You blinked those dismal eyes at me and in them I saw you.
They sparkled and opened up with the wonder of a child.
Your head turned to the sound and your face softened to a visage I once knew.
But soon they we’re shut.
Clamped down and locked, choosing to be blind and deaf to the song.
Turning away in shame and anger.
Oh how ignorant you are, choosing to turn away from this beautiful epiphany that could set you free.
How could you choose this life of apathy and abhorrence?
Why do you turn your face from me?
Is my music not enough?
Here I’ll wait and dance.
Spinning slowly to the sounds of my spirit.
Singing along with my own song until the day you sing it with me.
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 6:11 PM UTC
Poor, broken-hearted Abel Spleen
Beneath a streetlight casts a shadow.
He'd hoped to find a sunny, green
Elysian meadow.
Barely a man, at sweet sixteen
He's gone where none who love him can follow.
He drank his cup of bitter teen
In one large swallow.
Where he has gone,—to what demesne,—
(If we in life are ever rooted),
Is all conjecture very mean,
And much disputed.
He's gone, and yet he still is seen
Suffering love's disdain and panging:
Poor, broken-hearted Abel Spleen
Is dead weight hanging.
O.O
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
It sits heavy on my heart
Stirs up my stomach
Twists me into knots
And I hate it.
Putrifaction in my veins
Rotting away my soul
Tearing my confidence to shreds
Digging deeper, desperate to taint.
Shiny. New. Small. Wanted.
Everything I'm not.
Dependable doesn't beckon bedfellows
When the unknown waltzes by in satin and ***
Monstrous. Ever-present. Bellowing.
Inescapable are the doubts and fears
The panging need to be seen and held
As I was way back when.
Nov 1, 2019
Nov 1, 2019 at 10:28 AM UTC
The guilt will subside, for
a day at least - and the barkeep
will pour one more drink, to numb
the taste of an inevitably regretful
and shadowed past.
These fingers, dipped in a hysterical
paint of red, taste much nicer than her
auburn eyes would have expected -
considering the
deathly circumstance of this
night.
As the lark calls outside, society
turns its head - slightly - a nod of
recognition to the disrupted
path between the
trees.
And
While he and she watch on
like those cursed with
a panging desire to idle under
azul clouds, the barkeep’s client
drinks with an avid intent.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC
Catch yourself wandering though memories
Shades of maroon and purple panging and banging demanding commanding your gut and your dreams at night
Burn it
ashes/ashes
the moment unpronounced
a blessing and a curse
bouncing in and around your mothers regrets- ashes
reminding you that there are some things you’ll never know
some things you’ll never forget
lips parted and toenails painted
a whole life
one’s existence unmarked by your
conscious/subconscious
Vacations and children and mortgages and dreams and ashes
late nights on phones calling long distance to
men/women/lovers/friends
and people you’ll never meet
people you’ll never speak to
Heartbreak is an abandonment of trust
a mouthful of ash
but it’s only the first step in forgetting a life
and leaving the dream
leaving the castle crumbling real fast
the castle built but past
satisfied with the obliteration of
one name/one face/one forgotten
at last
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 1:40 PM UTC
do you remember one
morning when it rained,
chrysanthemums then lined the streets
and each petal whirred to the sound of your passing?
you were too, a flower
in my hand. deep underneath the ground
you murmur, letting the twilight darkle
into twinight. it was the dawn of your becoming.
the sky’s panging brought you here.
you suddenly filled all the mouths
that waited for you, with the marine of your name.
because we were joined by haunts that revisit us
in this river of life
and that is why the unperturbed stone,
the incongruent leap of water,
the bodies that sprucely lay adrift with the fluminous ways
of the world all know you and i
because we are but from one source
surrounding them in their laughter and silence
when we are apart as though
they cannot sing when we do not make music
they cannot wake when they darkly wait for us
in their homes, trembling with unlit lamps of dust and sleep
they cannot lift in the moonlight when we strip
them of their fear
as though they cannot love in the midst
of spring when we are but two separate leaves
falling endlessly – finding each other in the Earth.
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 3:44 AM UTC
⊹
* · · ˚ ✷.
⁕ * ⊹
*
· ⊹ * · · ˚
✧
⁕ ⁞
for you i am a tequila sunrise;
for you i am heartbeat panging
through the pages
of schoolgirl crush notebook.
kissing crux of neck bone crest collar,
soft and warm as morning bread.
. •
.
⁕
you are at least 6′ tall.
i blink.
* . * i am sure. ⊹
. ⨀ i say: starlight you are sunshine ✧ .
and i love you like buttercups.
i write you sonnets and give you heartbeat
✧ gift wrapped in its parchment.
. .
⋆
you grow 10′ taller.
you are menace and
i am mouse.
i tell you i am falling from your eyelash.
* you grow larger. 20′ tall now.
. •· 13 miles you crest everest. ⋱ .
i go to hold your hand
but i’m a lonely golden pebble.
you ask the clouds a favor;
to blow their wind and push you away.
. º *
* *
⊹
you are leaving.
i will stay.
i tell you i need you.
i feel nothing. ·•
⁖ •․ i am in the stratosphere; floating * .
i am a helium balloon
and you are shrinking.
º
⋆ you are dusking sunset .
. through bleary eye slits .
and it is getting cold here.
⋰ star sparkle my vision sun sinking .
º backlit dropping…
⊹ .
◐ • you are · ˚ ✷.
⁞
… my lover? ⊹
⫶
· ˚ ⊹. you are · º
∶
˚ ⁕ …my height now. ·•
∶
no.
you are smaller.
✧ you are sprawling pacific ocean. *
whole life ahead of you.
∶
⊹
* · · ˚ ✷. .
º
i am drifting alone.
i still love you.
* · . you are orange melodrama, ⊹ . ·
you are marmalade paintings
on still-life ocean surface.
you are the west
⊹
* · · ˚ ✷.
✧ ∗
•
.
· • .
*
⁕ .
✧ and i am gone.
∗
•
.
∗ ⁕⊹ * · · ˚.
✧ ∗
•
.
∗ ⊹
* · · ˚ ✷.
✧ ⁕
.
every constellation becomes a new map evolving
and i am only marrow
you can see right through me.
i am an open book and you are diary entry.
∗ . ⊹
⁕
. •
startling the starlings with my stories.
∗i regale earth’s ******* mud, her jewel weeds,
dandelion wish clouds,
and the way you kept together everything.
∗ . ⊹
⁕
. •
furloughed like an arrow.
you sentenced me to no-thing.
bone marrow bow flung me
with the bow crafted of my own heart strings.
sorry. i couldn’t make it to the moon by morning.
i hope the darkness wasn’t so bad.
i hope you missed me.
–six pm | *furloughed
⁕ .
*
∗
•
*
⁕ .
∗
•
.
∗ ⁕⊹ * · · ˚.
✧ ∗
•
.
∗ ⊹
* · · ˚ ✷.
✧ ⁕
.
∗
⁕
Mar 30, 2021
Mar 30, 2021 at 12:53 PM UTC
Once I know that I'm not magnificent
the wire twisted around my heart will slip away
and I will be content with peacefully dying
at 90
and having everyone forget my essence
rather than being chewed up and spat out by the universe
gone by 30
to encounter some sort of immortality
to leap across the length and breadth of legacy.
But to live in a calm contented rhythm,
to let go of the panging in
my lungs
to be more than human.
the secret is beyond me
Sep 12, 2016
Sep 12, 2016 at 1:18 PM UTC
The derision of the derided of the dedicated to the storm
The fire and the ice and the love and the rights and people of the demise of the dear and the redeemable
Medication and rumination sounds rather medical can you take through the bridge and preamble
Without the rhyme and pressing matters of the youthful climb
This is just a success ladder and a rare woman
Lugging a leather bag, pursed lips ready for sudden panging hunger
Like a feather fad endemic and indolent in nature, the droll *******
You telling me I'm alacrity and criminal in the numinous nimble loss for words, the fake feeling
Bewwushteinshlage tell me I'm not rising with the tide, the dyer maker
Hot dripping and filling and dryer head full of hairy dreams
The seeds and searching for the demise of the promising song
And the fresh feed of afraid and fearful peaceful people in this clouded age and premise obsessed by flippant speech
Of hungry people acting so foolishly and speaking through their teeth for the representatives of the burning heart of education
Good glaciers are this a revelation and puerile pride and repeat the same behavior if it's so lyrical
Can I tell my sorrows, and the thorough and boughs rescinding of the glances
Advancements come and go, the gut feeling is good to row
The feeling of building and the bullish ****** find of joking kindred spirits
Drilling pleasantries into ole' midterm me losing my feet and losing my need for finishing school
From the rise of the morning, the time is frolicking and not easy
Someone's running from the hopeful and the ****** and the futon for the shrink's naysay
Daydream and rolling dear ad veritas in this vine of dwindling nations, just a glass domino
Words falling like a little limerick and it hurts just distress others
Taking sister act and the distance doesn't matter to someone obsequious and robed
We are stunned by your logic and your jokes, but, you need to shut the **** up
Finally, awaken the human up and stare at the cellar and have a drink
Before the new fire sails through your life instead of the old flame you remember
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 1:08 PM UTC
What is this feeling of desperating despair my heart is pounding at me.
I feel joy and light but there's something of darkness I'm being dragged toward.
How can I feel so so passionate but still have this panging feeling of panic pawing at me violently.
Is it because I so desperately want him to know that I believe the sun shines towards him in my existence.
That I am undeniably in love with his sweet demeanor and carefulness.
Is it because my soulmate has finally found his way towards my raging heart.
It's been so long since these words poured out of my intellect and someone has been worthy enough to be some of a muse.
The smell of mint dancing on his breath to put out the smoke of his heart is the most intoxicating sense he has upon me.
Our intellects are one in the same and the goodness of light is seeping through the common words on those pages.
I love him.
I do.
I want to know him and his spirit for as long as this life allows me.
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 8:23 AM UTC
Cover me in the black sheet.
Flood me with taunts of the stars
Let them shoot at me.
I'll take a nova right to the chest,
Absorb its dying breath
A bursting beautiful chaotic mess.
Stardust, its existence, now ash.
I don't know why it gets harder at night
My chemicals collide, they kiss all night, but their love is my fight and I can't **** them every time because it is so passionate
like Romeo and Juliet, young and dumb, they'll sacrifice me so their love can live on.
Why am I the vessel of the lonely panging flesh.
Inhaling sharply taking wounds from someone else with each breath.
But I'm unaware of all the gaping holes in me because I'm a werewolf and by morning i have no recollection of bleeding.
But the holes are starved at night and they seep through my clothes soaking my mind.
I lie in pools of letting my insides roam but every day I swear that this will no longer be my home.
From the belly of the beast I'm now at it's nashing teeth,
it swallowed me once but after walking through guts I've finally reached
an opportunity, but the PM comes and the black ***** me back down the esophagus i have fought and fought leaving red scratches down it as my fingers claw.
I thought maybe if I loved enough it would ***** me up.
Maybe if I was content I'd be able to call this games bluff.
But the black sheet comes for me and I can hear the crickets sing
and when the dawn comes I'll be out again
but the sheet of night will come and take me right back in.
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 1:46 AM UTC
It was never my fear that, upon first seeing me,
She would deem me inadequate and reject me entirely right there and then.
It was the coming thunder,
When formalities are finished and our feelings are confirmed,
Where she thinks herself content with my company,
That shook me to my foundation with anxiety.
I cannot help but think,
That even in contentment,
A seed of doubt may find fertile soil in her heart,
And sprout a sudden longing,
A quiet panging,
Which reverberates through the days that grow longer and longer in length,
With each echo leaving a more and more profound impression.
And when this panging starts to get louder,
Until it is akin to church bells in her heart,
It will rouse her from her sleep-like state of contentment,
And have her find that something feels a bit off.
At first, she will not be able to put her finger on it,
But slowly she figures it out;
My images of her set in marble turn into plastic,
Lines of poetry begin to smudge as if written in cheap ink,
Letters begin to fox with its yellowing paper feeling dated to the touch.
And she suddenly realizes in the midst of others,
That this is not enough for happiness.
And then, by chance,
She misplaces a single glance,
Only to find something new
Something beyond contentment and I.
The skies begin to darken and grey storm clouds roll in,
And the thunder strikes,
Bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthurnuk
Perkodhuskurunbarggruauyagokgorlayorgromgremmitghundhurthrumathunaradidillifaititillibumullunukkunun
This, I fear above all else.
Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 1:40 AM UTC
I sit in my car snow panging like rain
waiting for you to send your fatal mistake
I cry and I cry head hitting the horn
realizing that I am mentally scarred
breaking down in my little red car
you sent me a message of your long written scar.
Jan 8, 2018
Jan 8, 2018 at 8:00 PM UTC
I stood at the doorway watching my life unravel
A decision panging to be made
Would it make a difference if i compromise myself for them?
How much of myself would i need to renounce for my compromise to be enough?
I stood at the edge of tomorrow holding on to yesterday because i fell in love with an idea
Tomorrow called but they said ideas are potentials waiting to blossom so i waited,
I'll just answer tomorrow, tomorrow.
Tomorrow came but i was still stuck in yesterday hovering over an idea that had long dissipated, hoping
Hoping that the more i water the idea it'll soon blossom but i found that watering a rock does not make it soft
So i stood in the middle of a crossroad wishing for my decision to make itself
It's be easier if decisions came with a manual and a preview into it's consequences
So many decisions but today,
Today I'll choose me
Aug 14, 2019
Aug 14, 2019 at 4:20 PM UTC
oh, what darling things live
in me continually announce her being:
the indent of my hands
the grit of my teeth
the ache of my bones when i move
far away from you
the intimate commune of my mouth
to the supple fruit of the world
and my mind wandering
what to make of nakedness when
you have displaced my weight
into something air's deft hands dare carry!
we are only afloat in each other's
fervid atmosphere.
there are spaces i yield when you ******
forward, killing the fires that live
in me,
the silences that confess the
mild affliction of the bed now void
and impression-laden,
how swiftly i was taken away and how
plodding my return has been,
not so much now myself denying
the imprint of such sharp moment
weaving your truancy
that whenever we make love,
there is something in me that dies
repeatedly, even now, alone
underneath a latticework of dark,
for love clung rather ponderously
stifling all words quivering
and panging and there is now
you, rolling together with the continuity
of these words, thralling me to
one more embrace.
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 1:08 PM UTC
the panging feeling in my chest
is trying to tell me something
but i'm not exactly sure what
-alexa
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 10:25 PM UTC
Do you have these too?
Infested. I think. ******
Panged into
something
Pangs haunt
my ***
tomorrow
has its own
pang place
where they lie
in wait
governed by
pangs of
dread
naught ever
pangs
on time
pang pang
you shot me down
pang pang
**** me now
poet with
a head
of steam
panging away
like your heart's
a target
and i found what hurts
you shot me down
what are you
panging
on about?
how has this word
hidden so long
when it its
my state
of pang
pang of the day
panged over you
pang me up against the wall
already
I'm steady on
haltingly
typing while you do
your worst
Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 8:55 PM UTC
I'll beg the clouds to shed their tears
For my own have ran their course
Dried and lost
To the everlasting drought of panging misery
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 1:30 PM UTC