"phobic" poems
Polite
Typical
Smiley
Daughter
Pointlessly
Trusting
School
District
Professor
Turns-blind-eye
Struggling
Drastically
Packets
Turn-to
Stacks
Deficient
Panic Attacks
Turn-to
Self
Destruction
Pulling
Teeth
Sick
Design
Plans
To
Stop
Discussing
Peace
To-her
Silence
Disturbs
People
Talked
She
Distracted
Passed
The
Snacks-to
Dinners
Pulled
The
Same
Dimensions
Pre-K
Then
Smaller
Didn't
Pause
Third-Grade
So
Dead
Parents
Though
She
Drowned
Piled
Thoughts
Suffocated-her
Dexterity
Patient
There
Suffering
Depression
Problems
To-many-to
Score
Dispute
Progress
That
Shockingly
Developed
Potentially
Taken-away-the
Suffering
Dramatically
Poor
Tiny
Sweet
Doll
Part
Traumatized
Sleep
Deprived
Phobic
though
Sixth grade
Doesn't
Play
Though
Six-Years-of
Death
Until... The little girl, learned she had,
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
and, school treating her badly is only one of her three traumatizing events.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC
phobic sky
orphic sea
malleable beings
exposed to the atmosphere
can we finally be surfacing?
aliferous dreamscape
living, breathing
particles and waves
sediments that the glacial ice
has carved off the earth
to build their erosion timeline
a memory of us together
collecting stones
touching hands
filigree and shadow metanoia
in the sanctuary where we feel safe
can we finally be surfacing?
Feb 11, 2023
Feb 11, 2023 at 11:14 AM UTC
I will never love again.
Today I woke up at 7am
remembered the boy who climbed
out my bedroom window last
night after we watched Pulp Fiction.
I smiled like the Cheshire Cat
for the boy who promised he'd
never love me.
Never love me, and I promise to never love you back.
Maybe there's a parallel universe
that runs a track close and alongside ours,
where we are not commitment phobic.
Then again, maybe in that
parallel universe
you marry the girlfriend that you cheated on
with me.
I am not pretty.
But I have your virginity!
A big ugly chunk of you that I would happily throw back
if I had half a chance.
Yet, I still cling to you like a lost girl
we sit in silence and I try to show you Pulp Fiction.
But you won't stop talking
and then there's a moment of highly charged ****** tension
and Uma Thurman says
to paraphrase
"Don't you just hate those comfortable silences"
Why do we always yak about ********
I realised I don't know you at all
and I kissed you quietly because your eyes were closed
Because that's what you do, right?
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 11:33 AM UTC
Hear that?
crackling...
rough crunching...
Stop it.
Nothing
is really there.
You're just
being
paranoid.
Such innocence,
such weakness.
I have you.
You so easily
sustain
my existence.
Expanding,
educating,
strengthening.
Your power
evanesces,
demonic ****
Some day
strenght will favour
another.
Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 3:05 AM UTC
This is great website, and I've met some lovely writers, and I hope to I meet even more - but *** are all these preaching comments???
I've never met a writing place with so many unofficial spammy preachers!!!
I don't need ******* preaching at!!!
How do you know I need salvation - maybe I'm already saved - have you thought about that? Or maybe I'm just a blind idiot in your opinion. But either way your pointless unfriendly and ungodly manner has zero effect. You've never met me - you know nothing about me. From now on anyone who spam comments and preaches on my work gets instantly blocked - use your energy elsewhere.
And here's another thought: what if what I write is called creative writing - heard of that before have you? Not everything I write is about me, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who does that.
Apologies to all the kindly beautiful writers on here - it takes a lot make me have a swearing rant, I guess I've just ruined my kind reputation. Just had enough of the spam **** and in my real life I NEVER tolerate idiots, and I won't here either.
I don't mind the mention of God as a personal view, I'm not God phobic, no problem with that, but just don't leave messages as though I know nothing and I need saving - I **** well don't.
Your sincerely
One very ****** off writer
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 7:32 AM UTC
Our preconceived notions
can’t seem to be left at the door
as we all seem to meet each other
for the first time, hand shake in check
psychiatrist inspecting psychologist
who to take, what to take, can we partake
in this guessing game of assumptions;
all because we are deeply insecure.
Yes, perhaps the writer even the reader
can take heed even implore the words
from abstracts, to ideas set forth to type
font, confront abound the reflective recollections,
as I form sentences and you figure the syntax.
Seeping through the membranes that we have solely
constructed from the libations and gluttony from opposite
heads to tails; phobic forming channels flipping
ratios of eyes on you, and yourself so to be social
concentrates every weekend, only to dissipate.
What has been lacking is simple genuine
conversation of good morning, how are you ?
exchanging information so to know
one another - that is being social.
The microcosms we place ourselves into are nothing more
than are fathom facades we trace as perimeters so to measure
how much we can let people into our already egocentric lives.
Don’t contest that statement, to some level we all have absolved
in our own thoughts everyday, that we lose sight perhaps
what we see with our eyes should be understood logically
with conscious from the back of our minds.
Tip this scale for which we wait, taking to memory
that we heal as we initiate, and take ourselves
into each others weight, so we can carry on.
Nov 10, 2010
Nov 10, 2010 at 9:09 AM UTC
I hate to be phobic
Or repetative
Hate to be petty
But I worry
That one day
It will all run out
The words, the thoughts
The pictures
And muses
Swirl and slip
Down a sink in my soul
Like a vapor
That I'll sit down
With a pen
And have nothing
Nothing left to say
Worth saying
That hasn't been heard
Imagined
Or spoken
It doesn't make sense
But still
The gremlins ****
Leave me be
Let me write in peace
For as long as I can
Mar 6, 2010
Mar 6, 2010 at 1:07 PM UTC
His Voice,
His Face,
His smell,
His Hands,
The time has come for the truth to spell from the base of my soul,
The time has come for nature to take control.
I love him like a bee love honey,
I love him like the existence to provide thru the concept of money.
His presence aluminates the area in which he stands,
The personality in his walk makes me yearn to understand.
The concept of this man
His fragrance is like moms homemade me pie,
Making my mouth watery and craving for more.
He is the vacation I have been procrastinating on,
Yet he is what my mind tends to explore.
His eyes talk to me loud while he tone remains silent,
Loving this creature is making my love violent.
Dying to be released, breaking windows for exposure,
Im closet phobic yet I find myself sheltered in a dark enclosure.
I know I want to know and Im in a position in which I can.
But the concept of this man.
Leaves me afraid to believe and to fearful to release,
But somehow when amongst him I am sprinkled with peace.
One soft kiss on my forehead and my worries cease,
Leaving my soul relaxed and at ease.
The strength in his faith is the beauty in his eyes,
The power in his testimony makes my blood pressure rise.
Life has journeys that are so un-definable,
Where did he come from I thought I was un-findable.
With my eyes closed and I place my feet on land,
God how am I ever suppose to understand?
The concept of this man...
Jul 17, 2010
Jul 17, 2010 at 11:31 PM UTC
Had hit five hundred pounds
my wife and I
living in our tiny bunker of concrete
waiting for the food truck to deliver to our door.
The outside world had a startling hum
of trillions of insects which were
******* up all the air
we knew it was just a matter of time.
Darkness often descended
and all we knew was our hot breath
breathing on each other
in the tight small space
breathing each other's moist air.
The bunker was heating up
hotter and hotter
which meant the fans
were clogging up
with the bodies
of the insects
and
in my horror it meant
I would have to go
outside
to clear the vent.
Outside Outside
I had not been
For I can't remember when.
The encased cave to the ladder
the walls closing in
while insects smacked their bodies
against the sides
trying to get inside.
I crawled with suffocating breath
Mice rats bats
Sewage dripping
as the walls tightened
around me.
Finally a tiny light lead the way from the cave
to the ladder
which would take me up
to the top
where the vent was clogged.
I climbed that ladder up up up
choking and gagging and spitting out wings
Spiders crawling
On my skin
And my nostrils in
looking down
falling down in my mind
with each and every step
and having to stick my hand
inside
the squished and smashed remains
to find
the screen which kept them out
and us inside.
I wasn't sure how I would survive.
Finally my task was achieved
and down the rickety shaking ladder
I went back through the cave
to our tiny shelter
and as I went inside
my wife
in her excitment knocked us over.
We lay rocking on our backs
like two turtles
unable to get up.
And there we lay
total helplessness
in our last days.
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 9:54 AM UTC
The Narcissist
Attention is the oxygen that feeds this phobic mind
Abandonment is death to them, they'll not respond in kind
Ignore them at your peril, adore, or see their wrath
Their self is false and hollow, they’re only worth is death!
You’re adoration gives them life, dependent on approval
They’ll laugh at you but not themselves, their temperament is cruel
He’ll goad and taunt and torture you, he’ll take you to the brink
It’s me; I’m mad and paranoid, that’s what he’ll make you think.
But if you dare reject them, they try to rip you down
They cannot stand to be the **** or lose their bogus crown
Their ego is but all they are and you supply the rest
They look to you for solvency, will **** you’re dying breath!
Get Rid!
Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 9:42 AM UTC
He dives into the night and tastes the colours of darkness;
He remains in disguise of the web of darkness,
Like a black spider, star burst horn baboon spider.
Grounded by the white stringed haphazard web of darkness
And he made darkness his covert, his pavilion round about him.
Dark waters in the clouds of the womb bearing seeds for the nation
Darkens and further occludes his opalescence into black and what?
He searches for the diversity of the rainbow with an iambic meter.
A biased accented and unaccented mirage of nations…
An optically dark-phobic illuminated biased meter
Synergism of nations is a phantasm meter display.
The hope of sanctuary proves hallucination by darkness.
Darkness is the absence of light, but light is light.
In his darkness he ponders
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
people they prosper inside their own lights
and every thought you made used to keep me awake at night
now the silence leads to an eerie calmness inside of this place
that i cant erase
it wasnt too long ago that you said to me
just do what you feel and live your life carefree
i said but, what you do just doesnt bring me any happiness or peace
then i blink
and you're gone
from me
so dont haunt me like you used to do
i cant stand the thought of your spirit right now
and if my lonely mind would multiply not divide
i'd let you stay here and i'd live in fear
until the daylight, comes
until the daylight sun
into the daylight, run
into the daylight, love
getting too near, inside of here
phobic of the sun the moon and the rain
cant contain so i shapeshift
so take what I get and give what I got
I am a man with no future and a man with no plot
feel it in my bones never thought id hear myself say
i'd let you stay here
until the daylight sun
until the daylight comes
into the daylight run
into the daylight love
followed to close behind your ghost unfolding
phobic of the sky the grass and the trees
and i cannot untrain, my spirits
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 4:28 AM UTC
there was a time
when there was the word FUN
in American culture,
and one could laugh...
as a European, these days?
do i *******
look like i'm having "FUN"?!
i'm staging
dart matches between
drunks and
retards! fuck's sake...
it'ss like hearing the argument...
the greatest threat
against the human soul
is a white shark...
no!
no!
killer whale!
Faroe Isl. talk...
yes, yes, orca...
almost like, ogre...
but more trans-literal...
like...
trans-phobic...
or whatever is:
trans-counter-the-boring-gay-community
of...
would it ever be fun
to marry,
whether or whether-not
it was made legal for gay couples
to marry?!
whatever...
at this point...
i almost want to give a ****
but...
sorry...
you want an antagonist?
please look elsewhere.
in the vicinity of my company?
please, just, riddle your knuckles,
pair of ***** and a ****
and?
simply... **** off!
****** ******
and whatever is to be added
into the: to boot...
i asked some bogus questions,
i heard no replies...
at this particular posit of time...
if i expected a handshake of
civility...
i'd be the happy one...
but since... i didn't receive one...
as to how whatever what matters,
to matter, is, to subsequently
"not" matter from this posit of time?
time, time... and some....
charred peppers,
grievances over the pristine cut salad...
and...
the more gruesome details,
that serious people would rather
not mention.
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 10:11 PM UTC
it was swell to think the city’s smell is less sickening
than the soulless scent of pressing forests of bristlecone pine
fertilized lawns now sterile with nature’s pesticide,
the crystalline flesh of some cold, lonely comet.
the forests silent and silicate as the moon’s lifeless surface
trees packed, cartooned and phobic, like salted fishes hanging
with no throb of night-dwelling insects to hasten dawn’s arrival
no sidewalk nor always-lit subway maw as a means of escape.
cause of death? no depressive episode could match such exposure;
the mood-numbing nocturne of the inaccessible semi-suburbs
marching off between the sentinel forests of the northeast.
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 5:58 PM UTC
I watched her as she slipped away,
away from reality,
day by ever passing day,
falling away from me.
I couldn't see what was chasing her,
or what she might be chasing,
but I just couldn’t leave her there
with her fears racing.
It was like watching her sink.
drowning from her past,
taking over how she thinks,
I knew she wouldn’t last.
Why she was like this?
She’d didn’t understand.
And trying to not be sick,
but wonder land was not wonderland.
She, was still phobic,
she couldn’t get help from me
no longer wanted to be,
I watch her enter the sea,
trying to escape reality.
Jan 11, 2011
Jan 11, 2011 at 3:38 AM UTC
I fear the time when your eyes turns grey,
when the locks in your hair straighten,
and the locks in our hands loosen.
I fear it when you think of things that never did happen,
when my inaction forms imagery in your head.
and free the tears that you never shed
I fear it that when you wake up,
you'll realize, that you don't have the strength. . .
to love me anymore.
Sep 15, 2010
Sep 15, 2010 at 8:27 PM UTC
How is it that your scared gets to be scarier than my scared?
Last time I checked,
We had an equal number of holes in our bodies to breathe love.
The sweat we made together reeked of the same insecurities.
Even the dreams we spoke so highly of, birthed from the same stories.
So, tell me then,
What is it that men like you do?
What is it that men like you eat?
A secret ingredient,
The Chinese peach of immortality perhaps?
Or is it elixir from the moon rabbit?
Did you say “Love”?
Oh look, we’re even now.
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 6:21 AM UTC
*Everyone is putting a mask over my face
Most mask make me also phobic
On my worldly mask you put another mask
Some put color on my black stain
While most put black stain on my color rainbow
We have invented ways to cover our faces
And paint a mask that suits our perception
When will you see deep inside my heart?
When will you see deep inside my soul?
And see the real me?*
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 9:42 AM UTC
My dream soars high through crystal skies
aloft in astral flight
Drifting free on shifting breeze
banking left ...
then banking right
~
A reclusive need for solitude
spread wings
within my head
rising up through phobic mist
topping all ...
'tis stress I dread
~
A rising sun smiles upon my face
triggers ...
coronary delight
above the clouds of Heaven's step
helping ...
rectify my plight
~
My leaden shroud
soon
lifted high
six angels share its weight
Top o' the morning
I heard them say
as they passed
through Heaven's gate
~
We'll have your shroud
all cleaned and pressed
We'll embroider
on its' nape
A Morning Dove shall carry it home
wear it well ...
it's Heaven's Cape
~
Descending home ...
can't help but notice
the world's a brighter place
A pristine air
pervades the sky
while
all tension
seems erased
~
Subconscious thought
soon nullified
Fresh air ...
inflates the hollow
I yawn and stretch as nature's song
sings through my open window
~
My dream serene starts fading fast
my thoughts
to reality ... focus
while reaching out to close the pane
a dove slips through
... unnoticed ...
~~~
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 12:19 PM UTC
"are you happy?"
echoing
lingering
imitating
reanimating sound
"maybe"
cyclic
anemic
phobic
armistice
"I am asking for a yes or a no"
endangered
requiting
enamored
caprice
"so which is it?"
vibrating
shattering
lingering
doubt
"are you truly happy?"
monotheistic
never-ending
asphyxiating
reprise
Oct 4, 2023
Oct 4, 2023 at 9:06 AM UTC
Things that bother me:
Here on Planet Paul
In my sunshine bubble,
With its tempering, shielding clouds.
Where do I start?
Well, let’s begin with half-empty glass people.
For them the world is but a wicked place,
Full of evil and corruption
Crime and drugs
Like Milton’s bottomless perdition.
So then they wonder why they suffer
From depression
As they whinge about every little thing
From plastic beer glasses
To the tint of my sunglasses
To everything I do
Or anybody else
Who seeks to see
That glass:
Half Full.
And then we have The Outraged
Flanked by The Offended:
The PC Brigade –
As sensitive as a swollen red foot,
Suffering from a bout of gout.
Constantly on the lookout
For the slightest smear
Against their race, gender, religion
Or ****** orientation
Or anything else about which
They have the proverbial
Chip on the shoulder.
Outraged, offended, outraged
You bigot, sexist, blah blah phobic
Piece of excrement!
Well sorry you lot,
Whichever clan you’re from
(Maybe both!)
For I refuse to go your way.
I’ll keep seeking all that’s good in this world
And try to keep that glass half full.
I assert my right to freedom of speech:
To express my opinion
And say what I think.
For “harassment” is inevitable
When there are people about
With differing views.
Not forgetting
That some are quite insane.
Each one of us is beautifully unique:
A thing to be respected
If only tolerated
But cherished,
In the name of Love.
Paul Butters
© PB 9\7\2018.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 5:37 AM UTC
and death said unto us:
go first!
i'm, afraid of seeing!
et mort ait indu nos -
primus vade!
sum, phobic ex videum!
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 2:36 PM UTC
Phobic condition
I woke up it was afternoon and I had made
guest appearance in my dream.
it was winter I stayed on the sunny side
of the road watching you struggling with your emotions.
I shook my head and told the swans flying to Africa,
on the way he never gets past sixteen and his wings
are not properly developed.
Stop making excuses we have seen him fly, at night
he lacks the courage to make it in public
if you leave him alone and stop worrying he just might
make it to the podium and speak his poetry
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 2:35 AM UTC
What gives you the right?
Why an ist or phobic?
Look at your self, what do you see?
Just stay away from me and don't even look at me
Black in my mind as I look at you.
Poison. Spikey. Vile
Stay away, far away.
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 2:27 PM UTC
do i seriouslly have to be
angry, given, this
beauty of a feast at nearing 5am?
oh i can imagine
a **** like eating an oyster:
but then...
then again:
this is the part where i: mmm mmm,
and refrain from moaning.
(
aftertaste?
goryczka...
hops...
but oysters
and female genitals are the closest
i've ever come to a zenith...
not in a phobic: disgust comparison...
i have an example
of myself eating an actual flower...
so...
honest to god,
where
(
began, is where it should have ended.
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 11:53 PM UTC