"pestered" poems
With each
CLICK
Our breath is held
Will he,won't he
Will he, won't he
The suspense is killing me
And....SHIT
Door left open still
Pestered by the plebeian chill
In this gay little coffee shop
Surrounded by the unrecognised talent of Brighton:sketch artist staring at me, writer on his laptop, songwriter etching vigorously with his pencil.
All of which aren't closing the door.
The eyes roll.
Labouring my body up, hammering my legs across the floor, turning the factory handle.
All is ask is for some carrot cake,filtrate water,polo jumpers, avocado salads,tiger bread, slimmer trousers, slipper sock , a toyger.
Click
And then images of Kim Jong un pass through my head.
If I ruled you'd all be dead
Firing squad for an open door,
Loud music on the train'll be no more.
Stop the screaming misbehaving brats
The rabble of Spanish students
All this PC stuff on the news, train seats filled with cans of *****
Suddenly
The artist strolls up
Let's down his cup.
Closes the door swiftly
And slips back in his chair
Oh, so there is a god.
I guess Jesus didn't lie.
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 12:15 PM UTC
.. For as flying.
Spying
Places repose.
Dream, suppose.
Dreams loll without respite Shady oak. Bright swirl spring breeze
Of green crisp apple bite. Shelter bespoke. Insects morn, vast seas
As gold burns warmer. Sleep, still abuzz. Clouds as beat wings
Sun shadows corner Seconds love. Million insects sing
Dreaming more light Eyes shut, island. Time goes, seconds fit
Colours mix despite. Twig woodland. Seen today, exquisite
Great light bested. Instant, rested. The rays pestered
Shadows nested Dreams vivid. Up, now rested
Colours
Mull
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 5:38 PM UTC
i always thought that comparing
photography to painting
would be hard,
but then i read an article about
a girl with a baguette,
in the jardin de plantes
looking up at a kerfuffle
being pestered by sparrows,
having henri cartier-bresson
take a picture and i thought...
*one brush stroke of colour,
after watching a blank canvas
for about an hour.*
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 7:25 AM UTC
a stranger points to a smoke sign and asks if i smoke; i say no
now that stranger is a friend and my no is a sometimes
and i wonder if it was a warning when he said that smoking was bad.
had i known, i would have answered the anxiety is worse and the cancer can't really **** me when i already feel dead inside.
instead, i waved him off with a laugh that meant "i know. isn't it obvious?"
...
the rot caught up to me two years later, outside the same bar where i'd pestered another friend into putting down a box.
it was a betrayal then, when i brought the sick to my lips and inhaled the poison.
it was a betrayal again when he found out.
i tried to appease the scolding,
argue that i've stopped smoking.
would it be a betrayal now to say
"i still think of rot and decay"?
Jun 18, 2021
Jun 18, 2021 at 11:03 AM UTC
Pestered and pursued
by unknown foes
A topsyturvy land
where snakes can have horns
and cows can have fangs.
Night'mares' where the day's stallions
make mountains out of molehills
A chance to witness greek mythology-like creatures for real
For dreamland tis a place for the unreal and surreal.
Those hair-raising scary scary dreams
beset with horrified silent screams!
We do try to interrupt nightmares, pinching ourselves
With relief wake up to see there aren't any horrid elves.
We also try to interpret dreams filled with mystery
But gifted dream interpreters like prophet Joseph
Are now part of biblical human history
All in all, dreamland's fascination
for extra-ordinary exaggeration
and tall-tale imagination
Where myth and legend come to life
An amalgam of fiction or real strife
Where assorted monsters of the mind
reign supreme in that REM sleep of our kind.
Yet on the other hand the wishful, wistful sweet sweet dreams
where fantasies form mirages bordered by fanciful seams.
Where castles in the air that humans build, float gently down to earth
only to shoot back up unto nowhere from the awakened one's berth.
In dreamland a pauper girl can be a princess or fairy fair
for daydreams extend into the night and linger on there.
A quote I took to heart and it to console all and sundry
'that if your sweet dreams don't come true, don't you fret
for atleast your nightmares didn't come true either,
so just heave a sigh, by and by.
Every night let us all just fly away and escape
And lo behold the extraordinary world of Dreamscape
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 7:02 AM UTC
Pellets of rain pestered the cotton swagged
sky, cloudy purses grew black with scowls
coldly spelling their injustice. A chapter of
sunrays shot shamesless shards, irony perched
between chaperones; a truce maybe, rains restless
pathways of rays bleating their appeal, rooming in,
black balaclavas, rooting for blue beams,
itching bony beads of cloudy sweat, out of reach
In turn, limbs colour coated grassy spaces
tides of sun worshippers laughed out loud
their inner duets, hand in hand the sweltering
dance floor bathed them, sidling cotton clouds
Swiftly passing the sunscreen, laying back, beckoning
the sun from beneath neatly positioned cloud baubles.
Within an inch of our lives the splodges began, light
heavy, heavier, to the swell of April in full tune
Instantly the greedy green spaces groaned, ejected
sweet harmony, rolled out goodbyes, tongued stiff
breeze longing for its thirst to be quenched, and so
torrents rushed in where fools once lay
A lonely sunscreen bottle, remnant of warm
minds soaking heat, long days teasing into belief.
Yet April fooled us once more with beguiling banter,
chorused a chanting cheating lullaby of lamentation
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 1:04 PM UTC
wind cutting through my hair
and my expressionless face is still
while nostalgia overcomes me.
what have we come to?
words of hatred once spoken to one another,
followed by kind, apologetic letters,
and pure innocence engraved on our faces
turned into hangovers,
excuses and more excuses.
the worries drag my eyebrows down
like bent, rubber arcs that have been straightened
and are moving slowly back into formation.
am i the only one?
am i the only one?
i grab a pen and paper and write
the words inflaming my throat,
the visions in my eyes.
everyone moves.
everyone moves on and grows
with intoxication in hand
and fire
burning through their sockets.
is this growing up?
to enjoy and to live;
is it necessary to poison one's self?
what have we come to?
why, a different location
will not change the way they act.
am i the only one?
it's peer pressure what they do,
it's peer pressure.
but i am left,
because i refuse.
does that make me wrong?
my friends; their love and trust
bestilled in my heart;
it's weakening, it's breaking.
i shouldn't feel this way.
what have we come to?
is a dream of sanity and beauty
not enough?
because that is all you need
in my book.
you step in my book and see
a bird soaring
a flower blooming
an idea growing.
it's beautiful.
you step out of my book,
you don't see.
you're trapped
in the fumes, in the heat
of the crowd, in the smell
of the liquor.
what have we come to?
love is not an object.
it cannot be thrown around
and pestered with whenever you
please. it cannot get
carried around to become
an STD.
it cannot.
why?
it is not love.
it's hurt, it's stupidity.
the love is the feeling,
the lights,
the faith.
where is it?
lost,
disease has taken its place.
what have we come to?
it's what is inside, it's in
your soul, not displayed
on your skin.
what you are is not a material
thing, so why don't they bother
to take
a
second
look?
all walk with a label
instead of a name.
what have we come to?
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 4:33 AM UTC
Journeyman Pictures
Will take you on a journey
The DVB journalists
Jailed and tortured
They showed the military
Shooting at protesters
They hid on the balcony and filmed
They got footage
Of the Japanese journalist
Who was shot by the military
Another journalist
Helped make
An award winning
Documentary
About the devistating
Cyclone that hit Cambodia
In 2009
He was captured and jailed
For years
He had promised to write
The girl he met
From his documentary
But could not because
He was jailed
He made his own guitar
While he was
Wrongfully jailed
He is a good man
He just wanted to show
What the people were going through
Now he has been released
An executive from DVB media
Came to talk
With the Burmese officials
In 2009
About having their own
Official office
Some of the journalists
Have spoken out
About how they
Were tortured
Things are improving
Although it is a process
I hope DVB succeeds
And is not pestered
Or persecuted by the government
Any longer
This poem is dedicated
To the journalists
Who went through
Great hardships
To show the injustices
Of their government
Who wanted to document
What the people
Went through
After the cyclone
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 4:09 PM UTC
Will it ever stop?
The words ricocheting in my head.
The pain.
My migraine.
It doesn't stop.
words rushing in the mind,
is like adrenaline at the heart.
I beg you to stop.
I plead for mercy,
For thou hast not unlocked lips,
raised a hand nor pestered with gods will.
Yet I barely stand,
merely a generic man.
Perhaps this is gods plan?
There it goes again...
Am I mad?
Why thou mind,
poison all that nurtures it?
It is unfortunate that our hearts cannot yield without it.
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 10:36 AM UTC
Here, take this with your food.
You inevitable helpless fool.
A puppet used among the shores of Hell.
You must listen to the bells that will never tells, or yells.
Listen, You stupid tool!
There's a princess, you see.
Dressed in the moon and covered in pearls, galore!
But sad, she is. Far from bliss.
For she has never had a real kiss.
Run with me. I'll make sure we'll stay out of sight and out of mind.
Never to be pestered by our own inferior kind.
My abominable secret of tricks and treats.
Wrap me in the shroud of my own delightful defeats.
A puppet to thee.
Because a puppet I will forever be.
A snake to my heel.
Always to hear and feel.
And likewise, my heel to ****
Oh faceless princess of my darkest dreams.
Is this all my humanity can bare?
Perhaps not. My brightest Nightmare.
Oh, heartless queen, how long must you torment me, so?
Bury myself six feet down below?
Here stranger, I give you my pen.
Use it as you see fit.
I don't mean to be mean, but is it lit?Your flame, I mean?
Because mine is not.
My candle is in many knots.
Lots and lots of convoluted and intricate knots.
Care to take a whack at them?
You're better off holding your breath and counting to ten, my friend.
Over and over, again.
Now please, if my princess won't return to me by ten o'clock,
Show me the way to the nearest glock.
Suicide? Never!
Maybe just sleep. Forever.
Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 1:16 AM UTC
Once more, an embarrassing suit forced on him,
Picked out by the woman he'd loved
More than his mother, more than himself,
Sixty years and a few short months.
Strange how women have power to choose
Public attire for the men they love
As babes, and boys, and grooms, and now....
What is he now, lying so still in his new suit
So stiffly, awkwardly at peace?
A shoe-less traveler tucked into a box
Wearing a suit with an open back,
Hair finally combed the way
She'd pestered him to keep it.
"Oh!" she says,
"He left his wallet by the bed."
Dec 21, 2011
Dec 21, 2011 at 5:19 PM UTC
50 shades of ****** up,
I've ventured deep within you.
...scrutinized every centimeter,
every corner,
of that perplexing cavernous mind of yours.
*I
fell
in
love*
...but somewhere between "I" and "love"
I found myself stumbling into the spaces between them.
I knew you were too weak
to catch me but
those cogent promises,
that compelling voice,
how could I not succumb, baby?
I never doubted you and that was my downfall.
I stood in the gap for you,
defended you,
when anyone pestered me with pessimism.
There's this saying about....
...a log being in your eye
yet you're trying to take a speck out of someone else's;
Let's just subliminally throw the ***** laundry out.
Out of all the wrongs I've ever done,
I'm able to say,
**"I never cheated."
"I never gave up."
"I was always there for you."
"I kept my promises."**
kinda distasteful that you can't, huh?
tbc has been discontinued.
TheEnd.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 4:48 PM UTC
What you don’t know is
that I don’t know either.
What makes you stay inside on sunny days
has pestered me as well my whole life.
Shadows of things that would never happen
grew ominous, loomed over my cowering heart
so being a defensive, obsessive ruminator
my hope to make the leaves in my yard
stand still against gusts of wind –
become a psychotherapist
a posturing senex
trailing his wounded child behind
all made OK
with a license to insult you
pretending I know something
you don’t.
Will global warming disappear (?)
just because I know thousands of facts
about worms after rain
about how so many weeds pop up
in freshly-rained soil
underneath even dominating magnolias
and you pay me
to wizen you.
You stare like a mesmerized gazelle
counting the lions
a whole dozen of them
drawing a circle around your life in tall grass.
I want to tell you
run from the need for a resting place
from the pointless mobius strip
of therapy’s semantic banter.
I wish you would tell me
to just be quiet for once
invite me to hike a trail
protected by angels
with just so much sun
enough rain to nurture
and the lions yes
the lions like Fu Dogs
guard the entry to the hills.
I always forget
it isn’t my frustrated reverie
my angst about knowing
how important it is
not to need to know anything
this constant inability
not to daydream
that brought you here
to a leather throne
with an Olympus digital recorder
so you can capture every
single
word.
Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 9:25 AM UTC
I binge WAYYYYYY too much
During my obsession with strawberries
I ate a couple boxes a week
For a solid
Month
Or few
During by obsession with reading
Every ounce of my
Free time was
Devoted
To
Scouring
At least several
A week
During my obsession with drawing
The number of printer paper
Packages I ran through
Cannot be counted
And this lasted
Several years
Mind you
During by obsession with Chinese cuisine
I constantly pestered my family
To go there
On our weekly
Outings
For a solid
Couple years
During my obsession with vanilla covered chocolate popsicles
I ate one
Every day
For
At least
A month
During my obsession with pogo stick jumping
During my obsession with chocolate chip cookies
During my obsession with Asian light novels
During my obsession with strawberry black forest cake from that specific bakery
During my-
During my-
During-
Dur-
Yup.
It’s confirmed.
I
Am
A
Binger
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 10:49 PM UTC
*I climb on the mountain,
Pestered by grief.
I hide the recent stain,
Anointed by sorrow.
I try to subdue the pain,
Inflicted by remorse.
As I see another sun - Sunday,
I repent waking on Monday - again.
Because the pain in my brain - hurts badly,
I feel it growing on Tuesday - every other day.
And it takes over me as I reach - the high-mountain,
I free myself from the pain bothering me - daily, daily.
I didn't feel you coming - my way,
Taking all my tears - yeah - with the rain.
An angel you came to my lonely-lonesome life,
I feel it easing as it drops like the broken window-pane.
Though you heal my heart - my soul still bleeds profusely,
Going away into the penance mode - mode - repentance mode.
I jump down the mountain,
Though you float like a guardian,
You can't stop me from falling - falling.
As I fall down the mountain,
I look at my guardian - guardian,
She cries & starts lamenting - lamenting.
You reverse the sands of time,
And it starts over again.
I climb on the mountain,
Trying to make away with the sorrow.
And this time I step forwards at the cliff,
You hug me tightly from behind.
I see you abandon your angelhood,
For me, from me - from me, for me.
You chose mortality over your boon,
Your power has diminished.
But our story won't die when we die,
Because it's love - it's love - it's love.
Seven times we take birth,
In this realm - in this Hell.
We must be united & live,
Enjoying the painful life,
And the pleasures alike.
We must remain united,
Stay pleased & happy.
This way we book our places in the Heaven,
We hope to find death in each others' arms only,
Here we find happiness flowing - flowing - flowing,
In the stream through Garden of Eden - Eden - Eden,
Where we also find safe haven - safe haven - safe haven,
(: In that Magnificent and Glorious Gateway of Heaven....... :)*
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 1:40 AM UTC
THREE MONKS
Morning sunbeams danced on the ripples
Sparkling on the majestic flow of Mother Ganga.
Noisy crowds of pious pilgrims from all corners,
Pestered by ash-smeared, bargaining priests,
Rushed towards the sacred waters for a holy bath ,
In a hurry to wash off their numerous sins
And save themselves from Yamadharma's* wrath.
Three solemn-looking monks in saffron robes,
Moved briskly past the motley crowds,
Looking for a less noisy, cleaner spot.
At a distance, they saw a colourful launch,
Carrying pilgrims across the vast expanse,
When, all of a sudden, the launch tumbled
And scrambling pilgrims, in panic jumped
Into the river flowing fast over hidden rocks.
Seeing their desperate struggle, the surprised monks
Took a hasty plunge and swam towards the sinking launch
And pulled some of them towards the sandy shore,
While one of the sturdy monks carried on his back,
A woman clinging to the side, breathing hard
And left her after she recovered composure.
Resuming their walk along the river bank,
Two of the monks appeared rather grim and cold.
Breaking their solemn silence, the frowning monks
Called their companion a big sinner
For he had carried a young woman on his back.
Unperturbed, the robust monk said with a smile,
Although he had carried a drowning woman on his back,
He had left her safely on the river bank
While the scolding monks carried her still in their minds
And they hardly knew what detachment meant !
Startled and rudely awakened, the two monks
Prostrated before Vivekananda, the awe-inspiring saint!
*********** M.G.Narasimha Murthy
*Name of the God of Death in Indian mythology.
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 11:26 PM UTC
I struggle with my selfishness,
The seriousness of my disease,
My grasp on things is premature,
My thoughts still do whatever they please.
Inside my mind it begins to pour,
And although I scurry from the rain,
My worry leaves no place to hide,
Nothing to crouch behind to keep me sane.
It seems I always return to this place,
Where all the moments I earn I set free,
I wait for burned bridges to re-emerge,
And somehow undo the damage in me.
I still reside within my own skin,
Feeling emotion against my will,
Outside I spill a few tentative words,
But the ocean of guilt is hard to ****
I'm pestered by the knowledge of my flaws,
Endlessly listed in my reflection,
They appear when I pause and catch myself,
In the mirror without perfection.
They dig their way beneath my nails,
And splinter into my self-esteem,
Everyday loathing is the price I pay,
To keep at bay these fraying seams.
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 8:41 PM UTC
Pale as the pumpkin seed hulls.
Salted covered with tears.
Blustered bloom enchanter.
Grinned, and abolished sins.
Accursed and haunted, those who pestered.
Engulfed in snowy splendour!
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 8:43 PM UTC
an unsettled gap between my stomach and back
a nerving tone of voice
is what my dad has.
my dads insufficient ways to encourage church
included yelling, guilt tripping, and personal traps
is some of his pestering crap.
church is a lovely place of gathering
though if you believe
that's one thought bubble
I'd like to leave .
I stopped believing after he pestered me for years
his brainwashing cycles
needed a clean.
it's my life
particularly my dream
you can control my birth
what I eat
the rules of the family
but not my beliefs...
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
There are nights I can't sleep,
because I'm pestered with thoughts of you.
There are mornings I wake,
Exhausted from chasing you.
There are afternoons I bare,
Pretending I'm fine.
Maybe one day I'll believe it.
Then finally the evenings I collapse,
Knowing that this isn't the last.
The worst parts of my day,
Are seeing you,
because it reminds me,
of how little I meant to you.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 7:14 AM UTC
You'll be pestered with letters.
Partly because I like to look at your name in my messy handwriting but mostly because if I don't - I'd go crazy without saying half the things I'd try to say in person.
Sometimes I'll stare at you and wonder how on earth I ever managed to acquire such a beautiful creature.
And I'll wonder how long you'll take to realise you could do so much better.
I'll write you poetry,so many pieces.
Describing your eyes and your hands.
I'll write sonnets to the freckle on the right side of your neck.
I'll make you listen to songs that remind me of you & believe me there are many.
I'll write the lyrics on my hands hoping you'll be intrigued to search for answers.
I like code names, ridiculous ones.
So you'll get a few of those too.
I watch tons of movies, I'll do it while I lay my head on your chest.
I laugh at the most inappropriate times.
If public displays of affection embarass you - I'll embarass you everywhere we go.
You should know I'm over-emotional & extremely jealous. I get paranoid and I worry a lot too.
You'll be mine & I'll be yours.
You'll mean the world to me because I don't have anyone else.
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 8:45 AM UTC
Elation
Graduation
Ive succeeded
Ive defeated my demons
And summond the evils that pestered me
Just to **** in front of them gleefully
Im animalistic im my celebrations
I think i should plan a vaction
Im drunk on the joy of succeeding
I've not just bested my goals,
Ive superpassed them
And now ill end my day
With the widest grin
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC
Another night has breezed me by
Too much sleep has gone in haste
Somnolence is what makes me drink coffee sometimes
Oh oh oh,
Instead, take me where the monsters once lurked
In between the crevices of my old crypt that remains inert
I want to take a peek of the catacombs
Where I sometimes visit in my sleep
Oh ** **
Where's that sense of humor I once had?
Couldn't speak now
With the tongue I once had
I'm enshrouded in nostalgia
With silly monsters caught in between
Stuck in my daydreams
I can't help but imagine the past
Oh oh oh,
That was my wonderful life
Little kids on the pave
Laughing and falling on their knees
And flippant little fingers making a scene
If I could only spring back
To the time when my essence was clean
Back to the home where I pestered the words
"Please, please, please"
To the point of my content, when I could no longer protest
When I finally drowned asleep in the summer breeze
Cheers to my childhood days
And to the housebound trance of old school lullabies
Where my loving family of special hearts
Defended the tears I cried
Oh, oh, oh
Provoked by silly monsters I waved goodbye
Never did I think
I would miss so very much
Those glorious days of when my silly monsters
Brought mischief and thrived
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 4:22 PM UTC
Turning in bed throughout the night
Pestered by demons
Didn't invite
The last thing wanna do is face my pain
It's the only subject boiling on my brain
You said not to worry and stress without cause
Know no other way of coping with my flaws
Is it easy for everyone else to show themselves love?
Self- loathing drags me down and I cannot rise above
First doubt creeps in like 5 o'clock shadows
Insults that start small and then grow
On mind like frost coating a thin layer of ground
Freezing to the insecurity to which I am bound
Last night's insomnia paints bags under eyes
Circles so deep and dark they can't even be disguised
I eat up lies you dish out like I haven't been fed in weeks
Hungry because gut never finds the nourishment it seeks
The distractions I consume to fill the void only render me more hollow
Skeleton becomes a nest of pity in which I choose to wallow
Fears bloom faster than blossoming flowers
Watered by teardrops that pour out in showers
Within bones
The middle where marrow should be
Instead filled with stones
Inside skin a storm is raging complete with lightning and thunder
Perished as teardrops poured
Presently pain pulls me under
I quickly surrender to rain clouds in the sky
Working to save my soul
Guess it is time to accept that in this universe some forces are beyond my control
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 2:55 AM UTC