"phonebook" poems
i'm searching for something that i can't reach
she sleeps irregularly. she cries and breathes all at the same time
but does not make a sound. her face falls apart every morning when
she realizes she is still alive. the anger coursing through the blood
vessels in her body is not caused by anything, it comes rapidly and
mockingly. she counts to ten and holds the air inside her lungs and
hopes to any being listening that her nose stops working so that the
air inside her can expand and then eventually diminsh so that she
can tear herself apart all over again. she eats unhealthy. stuffing salty
fries and refrigerated microwaved chicken down her throat and forcing
the urge to throw it all out down to her skeleton so that the food
remains in her body, making bumps in her stomach and sticking
out of her ribs like unwanted monsters. she likes being ugly. she likes
that no one ever notices her and when they do they don't say a
word she likes that her own body betrays her and punishes her eyes
when she wakes up in the morning and realizes she is still alive.
she is a phantom. she is a ghost. she is a whisper. knowing her will not
be an adventure it will be a maze filled with poisoned leaves and razor
sharp rocks. her smothering brown eyes will captivate you and
undo every single knot in your body and make you feel like gravity
does not exist. but she will not be pretty. she will never be beautiful.
touching her will be like trying to collect shards of glass off of the floor
from a bottle of wine that you accidentally dropped. she will not
love you. she will not love herself. she will only convince you that she is
happy being a mess, a disaster and you will have no
choice but to believe her because your love is short lived and
only exists when she feels worthless and lonely enough to want
your company. you know this. she knows this. neither of you will
say it. the truth is an ancient phonebook neither of you have
ever heard of. she is not a hurricane, there is no eye in her
(h.l.)
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC
It flickered in the air,
sagged branch to branch,
pushed against the windows:
a death was pulsing.
It spilled into the streets
of my hometown.
I opened an old phonebook,
the names were humming.
I was cut to pieces by it.
I knew her as a little girl,
she knew my sister
in her hippie period.
The telephone lines cowered
beneath the gray massing of moon.
The faces of houses screamed
ceaselessly at me as I drove.
It is so insistent,
her sixth-grade smile
in my old class photo.
It hovers inside me.
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 6:30 PM UTC
Snuggled in the corner
of his crystal castle
warding off wind’s whip,
head pillowed on phonebook pages,
warmly wrapped in dreams.
Street light serves as lunar glow,
While courtyard is landscaped with
cigarette butts and a broken bottle.
He’s Prince of the Paupers.
King of this urban domain.
Apr 12, 2010
Apr 12, 2010 at 11:03 AM UTC
and some came up with this philosophy stemming from internet
usage pleading for anonymity,
but then someone decided - **** it, i want to have
a digital presence like i have a presence on the street -
and the phonebook needs updating in the globalised world -
this someone also thought about turtles among achilles hares;
this aside, something had to be kept from the 20th century living,
after all certain things retain this antique quality to them,
the sort of nostalgia i have in competition with the german romanticism
that focused its nostalgia on ancient greece... as far as my nostalgia goes,
it spans the years 1960s - 2007 / 8, and it’s alive, it’s organic,
you won’t have to go an see and touch the acropolis or enter
the sneezing room of a library with ancients texts.
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 9:52 AM UTC
She lived along the Atlantic coast
and had a collection of lobster pots
by the porch
and her lawn was trimmed for croquet
smelled of clams at low tide
the house was set near barnacle rocks
just beyond a stand of trees.
I found her by looking in a phonebook
next to her name it said, "Poetry Journals,"
so I called the number, and said I was on my way.
"Is that ok?" I added hesitantly.
“Well, yes,” she laughed, “You can come buy one.”
I passed the sign for fresh eggs
and arrived at a black wrought iron gate that said,
"Poetry Journals - 2 for $5.00."
“You’re the first one
who’s ever made it all the way to the house for a journal…”
“In four dozen years,"
she said.
Then she asked,
“What’s your name?”
“I don’t really have a name," I said.
She nodded and understood.
She'd heard from Byron
that the Banshee drags souls out to sea
but sometimes the nameless
manage to float back looking for poetry
these lost ones are like driftwood
bringing a sense of chilly dusk
a retrospective on the sea
in a seashell
appearing by happenstance
at low tide
"yes, I hear a distant mumble of waves,"
she might have said of me
I was one of the lost
turning her porch into a quay of despair
the first one in almost 50 years
who had made it so far
to latch on
until high tide
when the rush of sea returned
washed me out again clinging for dear life
to a raft of poetry
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 11:02 AM UTC
What’s wrong with me?
That’s the question I always ask myself
What’s wrong with me?
What is it that I don’t have?
Am I ugly?
Am I too tall?
Am I too skinny?
Or am I not your type?
Well if I am not your type, then why did you even bother?
Why did you bother yourself telling me that you love me?
Why did you?
You should have said it in the first place that I shouldn’t raise my hopes because you are only there just to walk me half way
But because I was stupid, I was blinded by the idea of being in love
I let you build me with words
Words that took me up to the peak
Without realising that by the time I fall to fall I am going to fall hard
Every night and day I cry
I cry for you, I cry for us, I cry for my own happiness
I cry for the smile that I used to have
I cry for the smile that I didn’t want to break
I cry for the fact that I have to let go of you
I have to let go of somebody I truly love
I have to say goodbye
They say goodbye is a painful way of saying I love you
But I don’t want to show you that I love you through saying goodbye
My heart fought with my mind for what I wanted and now it has to fight to let you go
Every moment I talk to you I feel a stab within my heart as I come to realise that the tears that fall from my face are truly blood from my broken heart
I never thought I’ll ever relate to Beyoncé and Frank Oceans
When they said…
[singing]"I miss you like every day just want to be with you but your away
I miss you
I am missing you insane"
Every night and day I miss you
And that makes me wonder if it’s too soon or late
Because it hasn’t been too long since we broke up…..
Every time I see your name whether in my phonebook, facebook or whatsapp, I start to relieve the best of our days
When we used to call each other at night and you be like [singing]“she got me up all night” relating to Cole and Miguel
Those days are gone
Sometimes I tell my friends that I am over you and I don’t wanna go through that again
I tell them that I wanna see you happy and I am okay of letting you go
But sometimes I go on a milestone and think of the way to let you know that I still **** love you
So I start to click on your facebook even though you offline
Start to ask myself why I don’t just ring you
And tell you how I feel
But I will just stare at your numbers and cry
Cry because…
The only person I’ve ever loved left me with a broken heart
A broken heart that is hurting, lonely and jealous
A broken heart that is confused
I don’t know if i should be happy that we are “friends” or cry
Because that is all we will ever be
Friends
I never regret loving you only believing you loved me too
I loved you, I love you still and I will always love you
Love will come and go but you will remain in my heart forever
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 7:27 PM UTC
I wanted to stay,
But I wouldn’t let me
With dawning on the dark,
It lay there fully heaving
With searing conic splinters
Of headlight in its back,
We left it on the road
Tossed in epinephrine,
Guilty of some throttle-rush
We had macerated in the night
Some brood of Nature’s brush
So, I sped to Edgerton
As fast as our time was
You'll say, “He never cared.”
I’m sad I’ve lost your name
No phonebook would amend
I should have just slowed down
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 11:24 PM UTC
I. I didn’t pick up when you called
and I watched it go straight to voicemail—
there was hesitation in your voice
but I still didn’t pick up.
II. Tuesday became Wednesday
and I forgot what time you had texted
me back because I didn’t check my phone
every 15 minutes for no reason.
III. I was confused on your name
being in my phonebook and
I wanted to ask someone
who’s number I have
but when you texted me again
to ask how my day was, I replied to say
it would have been a lot better
if I spent it with you.
IV. I recorded your snoring
so when I sleep, I can remember
what I don’t want to sound like
but it’s the only way I can go to sleep.
V. Morning afters became routine for us
and you still won’t kiss me
after I ****** your ****
only if I brush first.
VI. Ask me if I’m crazy again
and I’ll tell you that I’m crazy
for you, like a schizophrenic
off medication.
VII. At 8 in the evening
the night before a test, I’ll drop everything
to drive 45 minutes to see you for 20 minutes
because I don’t know when I’ll see you next.
VIII. I don’t like to text you
because you don’t use emojis
but if you don’t call me before bed,
I’ll yell at you for not talking to me.
IX. I’m not a ****
so stop laughing
at me.
X. I called you back the next day.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 2:24 AM UTC
It feels too early for them to be playing the ******* Wii
and I realize I can't even see them
but I feel each of them step on my head
hear each of them yell at me to wake up
that I've been asleep too long.
I roll over and try to my eyes
but realize they're already open, and have been.
I unclench the blanket
from my stomach
which is screaming near as much as my head.
And I quit blaming the headache and stomachache on them-
they are fast asleep
and I'm just hallucinating their presence
and 6 in the morning
because those aren't dreams
they are hallucinations.
Or so I find when I take my phone out of my pillow
(beating it on the ground because i can't find the end of the case)
to see why my phone alarm hasn't gone off.
my phone says it is 2:30
and I realize that I set the clock three and a half hours ahead
in my half lucid state.
I stand,
separating myself, in a less than graceful manner
from my brothers carpet.
I stumble through the doorway
lit by the lamp he always keeps on
through the dark hallway
and into the bathroom.
I flip on the light and shut and lock the door in one movement.
my eyes are tired and bloodshot
my head and stomach hurt.
I let a small stream of cold water go
and splash it over my face and open eyes.
that does nothing.
I through more water over my front.
no effect.
I try to scream but no sound comes out.
I open the the door
letting the lock pop loudly enough to deserve a four hour lecture.
I'm tired of lectures.
I stumble back to my makeshift floor bed
and try to lay down.
my stomach complains
I can't bend all the way.
I pick up my blankets and pillows
(silently screaming)
and carry them to the small couch.
I flip the tv stand over and throw grandma's blankets and pillows
I'm done giving a ****
I throw my bed down and lie there.
for two and a half hours I try to sleep.
I'm too tall
I decide around five.
I stand
throw the tv stand
all the other pillows and the phonebook
the other way
and lay down on the large couch.
it takes me fifteen minutes to fall asleep.
forty five minutes later
I wake up to him screaming at me.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC
Love and friendship got one thing in common base named as trust,
And as far as this bond continues relation goes with no argues and smooth without any grudge, Today's relation got more ego than love ❤,
It starts with likings and ends up with lust,
Now its a international trend to have a special contact in phonebook ,
Named like love, life line etc or just of jealous the neighbourhood,
Now a days relations are mostly based on nonsense fictions,
At last ending of it one or both get stuck in its contradictions,
It's like participating in a game,
It's easy to get one person whom you can easily blame,
After breakup; fights or any misfortune happens either all the negatives because of that person or haven't,
I don't know what's going on to today's generation, People just attach temporarily and if it doesn't seems to profitable they walk away like nothing happened.
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 1:23 PM UTC
this is the tale of my good friend Hugh
who was once so ***** he didn't know what to do
he tried watching videos on dubious websites
but even that couldn't satisfy his ****** appetite.
So one day he was pondering what he should try
to get rid of this libido he was creating the poor guy
So he picked up a phonebook and dialed a number
"I hate to do this, but I have to put this problem under!"
35 minutes later he started to simmer and stew
until there was a knock at the door, and up jumped Hugh
There at the door was a curvaceous female
he could barely speak he just started to stare
In she walked and off came her clothes
she was wearing nothing, but she looked hotter than melted gold
He immediately jumped in and they made sweet love
so loud the screams were heard by doves
So remember folks if your like Hugh
and so ***** you don't know what to do
just take a peek at the classified section
and you can absolve your Hugh G Rection
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 4:14 PM UTC
These scars are brush strokes of another girls despair.
She spent Summer nights drawing lines between myself and her,
The warmth on her back the only memory left in a cardboard box of misery;
It reminded her she was alive,
A reminder she longed to delete in a shrinking phonebook that breathed out numbers to balance her life.
Lost and found in a pound of broken daydreams.
Each time I catch someones stare I remember her fractured smile,
The only tie I have left that I cannot cut.
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 7:28 AM UTC
You texted me last night.
If you had done that a year or two ago,
My stomach would have been rushing with butterflies,
My heart would have stopped,
I would have lost the ability to speak,
I would have texted back in a heartbeat.
You texted me again last night,
Wondering what I was up to,
Acting as if nothing was wrong,
Acting as if it hasn’t been months since the last time we talked.
You wanted to know what I was up to,
And our conversation flowed like how it did before.
Our words floated out of our mouths like how the rain fell from the sky,
Slowly but sometimes all at once.
You wanted to know what I was up to
And we were fine until you asked me to give myself to you.
I was fine until I figured out that you only wanted me for something physical,
For an easy kiss,
A skin to touch,
A diamond to ****
I was pure
And you wanted to destroy everything about me,
My sanctuary,
My ******* body,
You wanted to destroy my very being.
I realized then that you were an animal,
A boy,
Not a man,
Who wanted nothing but a **** in the daytime
So you can get off
And I realized then that if I had given it up,
Not only would I have given up my purity,
I would have given myself to you,
Someone so ******* vile and atrocious
And I would never have been the same.
I was the last number in your phonebook,
And you named me the side *****
The person you would only ever call for easy ***
And for something to taint.
You forgot my name,
Forgot that I have an identity,
You only ever call me when you remember I have a body,
And even then you only use me for **** that only ever benefits you.
I’m ******* sorry you’re such an immature person
And you don’t know how to treat a woman right.
I wonder what your mother thinks of you,
How your sister looks at you,
I want to know if they see you like I do.
I used to hold you up like a trophy,
Held you up to the sky
Because I thought you were better than this,
But now I look at you in disgust
Because you’re a monster.
I don’t know what the **** I saw in you,
You were everything I wanted at the time,
Everything I needed,
But I was only ever the last number in your phonebook.
You treated me as if I was a phone number on a billboard,
Everyone forgets them until it’s needed,
But I’m not your mistress,
Your little harlot,
The person you can go to after you’ve smoked a bowl
And had crack in your system.
Don’t ******* treat me like I’m a door with an Open sign that allows everybody in,
I’m not your *****
So text me again,
Call me if you have to.
Instead there’s going to be bile up my throat
And my heartbeat will race,
But not because I’m happy,
No, no
It will ******* race because I hate you
And I’m excited because I want to do every cruel thing I can possibly do to you,
But I’m not you,
I won’t ever be the monster that you turned out to be,
I’m just sorry you have to live with yourself.
So text me again when I’m no longer the last person on your phonebook,
But I’m not going to reply again.
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 2:42 AM UTC
"for thirteen dollars
ill tear apart
1 big Texan phone book
no deal if raining
. no refunds.
you must provide
the materials"
"tear apart
my phonebook
for twelve dollars"
says man
"exit the area"
I repeatedly bellow
twelve dollars is chump change
I'm better than that
im like a siren
I can't stop screaming
at this man
his face is turning purple
he's choking from fear
I continue
it is nice to me
I glare him in the eyebalks
"HOPE YOU LIKE YOUR
BIG TEXAN PHONE BOOK
SAT UPON FOR MILENNIA"
I SCOFF as I sit upon it
he stands
"that phonebook ain't yours feller"
i am aghast
he snatches it from me
and shoots me in the gut
i lay in the dirt
writhing in pain
he steps near my head
and leans down to whisper
calmly in my ear
"no refunds"
he stomps on my face
and thus ends my reign
as king of ripping
big Texan phonebooks
into two smooth halves
for thirteen dollars
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 2:09 AM UTC
I shouldn't be calling you
well we haven't got that far.
all those facts you've known,
signals are diminished and stopped
Your silence is killing
you're presence is unseen,
you've marked the days in your calendar
and I am not part of your key wins,
You've deleted my number
in your phonebook and probably your mind,
memories are just shadows
of distractions and pure back draft
Did I just deleted you,
well my memorization is strong.
I wanted to transform you
and sing you a song,
Like a disguise of wise words
words of penned encouragements.
maybe some about love,
and my hidden admiration's bent.
It's a joyful mission
to let you hear,
even for a few precious minutes,
beside me without any fear.
And I love to see you again,
talk about random things you say.
sing songs we try
and find time to take.
I just miss you
more than anything in the world
But I'm that snob or shy
but I'm adjusting my chords
So this is love,
or we're just too lazy to come out our shells?
playing the sweet note's too obvious,
But I hope you can ring some chime's and bells.
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 7:15 AM UTC
The wind is getting in but not out. we know this because we see the curtain rise
we love our mismatched furniture
we love our scraggly hair
we love our couch with the cigarette burn in the second cushion from the right
and our ever constant stream of dishes that we wash ourselves to make our room mate smile
we love our valentine's day door hanger
we love our nonfunctional bicycle
we love our half eaten box of cookies
and our overfull incense burner
and making puns about our incense burner
we love our phonebook that we found by the door today
we love our friends
we are joyful his day
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
I made a room out of sadness
filled it with picture frames
of arguments I refused to let go
A tear stained sofa
that was meant to welcome guests
Is now where my past
has overstayed its welcome
Hanging on the walls
is a picture I drew
of a memory called happy
And on the coffee table
sits an old phonebook
of people who promised
to stay in touch
This was only supposed to be
a guestroom where I allowed
my chaos to visit from time to time
But somehow the boxes of anxiety
have piled up
and the monsters
have found their way
under this bed too
Nov 17, 2019
Nov 17, 2019 at 5:12 AM UTC