"phonecall" poems
Art is opinion masquerading as truth.
When I draw a city, I am drawing the city of my dreams, just as the city that is does not exist.
Putting policy into words in the hopes of having yourself heard is not the point of the philosopher,
and should not be the end of the penman.
When I attempt to make the world see, I manufacture my enemy. We should seek instead to illuminate gracefully, to speak the words beyond the void of flesh, and to touch emotions that swim with depth
It will get us nowhere to make art political, of which it is propaganda and employed many an artist in the past;
whose dreams of good deeds became hung in a museum for all the wrong reasons, leaving a remnant of an unforseen circumstance hanging dry on an empty tour-guide phonecall
Descriptive yet lies
Argue the dialectic of truth than the present purfume of lies that is fumigated from the salivary discharge of a cetaceous yearning of ********** of thought, that leftover dream of God
That all things should be the same, that all minds should think that way-- if they were, we'd be done with the experiment.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 7:14 PM UTC
the glass jar
full to the brim; steaming
teaming with drowsiness
he left it
out
lid-less
7 pages ,
front & back
he said he had so much to say
he could've gone on for
biblical lengths
he drove 45 minutes out of his way
just to say
nothing
Only glare
he said he thought about me
for the last 3 days
even more at nighttime
in the dark room
unhinged; TV on
I unfriended him nervously
phonecall
phonecall
phonecall
phonecall
phonecall
voicemail
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 2:38 PM UTC
i'm sick to death of this stinking routine
perpetual day time TV,
petty bickering
afternoon pub binges
hopeless job hunting morons everywhere,
i return to my hometown
to the place i was made, molded
created
and it suffocates me like never before
i think of the many reasons i left
they circle my thoughts for a long while
and then i'm left with one
one that overrides the lot
it takes a while to spit it out
because it's corny, it's stupid, it's not how we work
but
it's love
and the lack of it
the love here is in the mundane
the easy,
the norm.
it's not in the heart
the love around here lies in
television sets
and pirate DVDs
reduced chicken and new coffee machines
gambles on abused horses
saturday afternoons in the local
cheap holidays to Benidorm
a day trip to lidl
a weekday evening watching the soaps
a phonecall to a family member you don't care about
hours playing candy crush
the love has lost on us humans
the love here, it was lost on me too
it missed me out
they missed me out
it has instead transferred in this
reality tv, selfie indulgent zeitgeist
it has left our silly bodies
and i'm still clinging on
trying to dissapear from that
new century bubble
trying to pick up pieces
of that porcelain mosaic
that old style bric a brac
so long ago forgotten
pressure is everywhere
notifications beep
this tiny block of perspex
waiting to be touched
waiting to be in communication
with someone at the other side of the city
the other side of the world
oh what a sad existence
when all we love is through the inanimate
and not ourselves
but hey thats the way of the world
and we have to accept it
or hate it
because we can't do both
we have to accept our fast paced tumultuous society
always moving through space and time
at times, difficult
painful
hard
sore
but consumerism, capitalism and cronyism
it all exists in this big society
this 'we're all in it together' society
and it cant be ignored.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 5:02 PM UTC
Hi, it's me again. I'm sorry for still bothering you after all this time, but I can't help myself from picking up my phone and text you, because that's what I used to do all the time whenever I wasn't occupied. When I don't think of anything, I think of you. No, scratch that. I don't think of you only when I'm alone at 3 AM, I do too when I'm busy and stressed out with my job during the day. Even until now. I don't know if you still think of me though, after all it seems like you're really in love with her. Please take care of her and treat her as good as how you used to treat me, and I hope she'd treat you much better than how I used to treat you back then. I still regret all the words left unspoken inside of my head the moment you said you couldn't do it anymore and decided to walk away. I was shocked and sad, yet I couldn't say anything because I know I've always been the selfish one. It was all my fault. I ruined this. In that moment, all I could think was to finally stop being selfish and let you pursuit your happiness without being held back by me. Once again, I'm sorry for bothering you like this. I wish you well, because you deserve all the happiness in the world. Please let me know if you need anything from me, I'll be glad to help. You know you can always reach me out in a phonecall away, right? Good night.
Read at 02:50 AM
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 1:12 PM UTC
Maybe I was dreaming
But you called when I was sleeping
Slumbering I saw your name and picked up
Never have I been awake so fast
My heart pounding, blood rushing to heat
By the sound of your voice
Rambling you told me about your night
Asked me why I wasn't by your side
Wanted me as your price or was I perhaps already yours
If I dont mute my phone at night
Answer your call insted of sleeping
of course I'm yours
I'm not sure
Maybe I was dreaming
But you might have said
That I could call you mine
I'm not sure
Maybe I'm still dreaming
Or you're actually mine
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 6:43 AM UTC
One phonecall? Alert the public
Who would you call in a stance of conundrum in case the sky's falling down?
Desperate measures in desperate times
I carry an emergency kit with extra ink for my rhymes
And a band aid for my lips to cover up the disease they diagnosed me with;
Of Spitting up filthy ****
Labeling ill kids,
With conditions made up like myths
Deluded? Please.
Excuses are sad pleas to ensure the public's attention skips the obvious.
So I'd rather lock myself away,
And use my notebook to convey my love;
For the person I'd dedicate one last phone call to.
Lock myself away like Anne frank in the attic and write so much fire it produces sparks
the static is electric; the rush through my veins has me lost,
In the cosmic abyss of my thoughts
While I'm lit... I concoct schemes to conquer mics
If you dissect my insides with jabs, I'll retaliate with clever forensics;
Cut myself open for the world to see,
That all I'd bleed is metaphors in overdose...
Infinite similes are the catalyst to my rhythmic metamorphosis
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC
The most you left the house in a week
was a peek out the screen door
All those exposed scurry about out
there and falsely carry your irrational fears
You think they care to judge you ?
Are you reading their minds
from a passing bored glance?
half read pages cracked open spines
books don't talk back or have eyes
You watch tv all day long avoiding
real human contact .
So proud of the few phonecalls
that you make and take
as if you had allowed yourself
to meet outsiders from another world
Stop avoiding life and don't waste time on tv
organize , clear your clutter seize the days
these hopeful fresh days without obsessing
about things you can't change
exchange tv remote for will and action
come alive honestly out of your moonburned
pale skin
pity filled shutin
go with purpose
brave worldly wounds and heal all at once
don't be just a phonecall
Apr 4, 2010
Apr 4, 2010 at 8:31 PM UTC
I've stayed up for you
In my mascara
Just in case.
Again.
As, more alcohol than man,
Your hands stumbling over the keys like your feet on the ground.
You tell me I'm beautiful, but it's obviously not enough.
Money is too tight to cross the water like I've done.
But there's just enough for the pub
With someone who's not dad or brother.
This pause is a hint for you to tell me it's not what I think it is.
Your head lolls.
Oblivious to mine whirring.
Eyes widening
I hold back x's
In the hope that you'll notice that
You've ****** up.
You were right all along
I deserve better, but don't want it.
I've sat here patiently
An era long enough to gestate
This hate as I fall for you
And ask you kindly what's going on.
Only to get a vague answer,
A drunken phonecall
And a hiccup.
Just tell me what to do here.
If you want me to,
I'll stay
And be yours.
But I can't hover at the bar
While you go up for another drink.
I need someone of my own, not to be owned by someone.
I've stayed up for you
In my mascara
That's running.
Again.
Jun 26, 2011
Jun 26, 2011 at 5:46 PM UTC
Till death do us part,
those we vowed,
we both promised.
I stayed true to my words,
I loved you,
respected and cared for you,
I worshipped you.
Tore my heart out of my chest,
and gave it to you.
You were my life, my everything.
For you, as well, stayed true,
to those very vows, I wish you haven't said.
You lied, abused every word you 'promised.'
Tortured everyday,
kicked, punched, pushed everynight,
you yelled and insulted at every phonecall.
You stabbed me.
Right where my love for you grew,
my beating heart,
wounded - on my ****** hands.
That very line,
did endure it's title.
Till death do us part,
and so it was.
Jul 14, 2010
Jul 14, 2010 at 7:52 PM UTC
We spent all summer together.
I slept til noon every day, which now I regret because I realize I could have spent more time with you then I did, but each day I woke up, I woke up to a phonecall with a voicemail to follow it up.
You would say “hey babe, it’s me” because you knew I had your voice memorized.
And even if I hadn’t, I had memorized the pattern we spent our summer following.
You’d call me while I was sleeping and wait til I woke up, and I’d call you before I blinked for the first time that day.
You could never wait for me to get ready, so you’d come and watch me as I picked out my outfit and put on my makeup while you proceeded to tell me each and every day that I never needed it.
But August of that summer, you left.
You went to bootcamp.
I wrote you every single day, multiple times a day.
And you replied when you got the chance, which wasn’t often but understandable.
And even though you are hers now, I keep those 12 letters you wrote me those 10 weeks away from home in a wooden box on top of my dresser because knowing they’re there brings me back to you.
To that summer we were so happy and in love.
That summer you took my heart.
And that same summer you never gave it back.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 3:21 AM UTC
memories
of our every
phonecall
are etched in views
i stare
and smile at.
Sep 20, 2019
Sep 20, 2019 at 11:15 AM UTC
Hello?
It’s been a while; I just want to say hi.
Work’s great, and I finally got my books!
Free two-day shipping with Amazon Prime.
Good thing I still live with mom; I can’t cook.
Oh my god, remember when we got drunk
That one night? My mom’s still mad to this day.
Speaking of her, she thinks I’m like, a punk.
Just cos’ I ****** my boyfriend. It was great.
My sister is coming to live with us,
and her boyfriend. Ugh, it’s so annoying.
God, there’s so much **** we have to discuss!
So what’s up?... C’mon speak up! Stop teasing!
Sorry, wrong number.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 1:33 PM UTC
What about us?
We loved
We made memories
You're gone now
I wished i could bring you back
As i cried my heart out.
The phonecall all that i wanted
My smile wide as our friendship
I prayed you'd never try that again
Your life is priceless
My bestfriend you're the best I've ever had.
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 2:27 PM UTC
A terrifying sincerity she would call it.
It was a struggle to carry
herself around in a world
so oblivious to her weight
I adore myself ,But not my life
she said to me over a phonecall
Beautiful were her soul
ore maybe souls
She was like a crowd
in her own mind.
Whenever she would enter a room
not only did her scent linger,
but her beauty stayed with whomever
that was lucky to catch a glimpse of her
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
signs
they're real
they're always there
nothing is a coincidence
I miss you
I call
you've moved on
without guilt
you don't miss me
and thats okay
because you deserve everything good in this world
you deserve to be happy
but it still stings to know
i'm just a phonecall
thats my sign
to get over you
get over myself
move on
stop crying like some stupid little girl
who had her favorite toy taken
move on
god **** it
why can't I move on
it's because you're still real
still here in my mind
but for you,
no matter what you say,
science proves it
i'm just a phone call
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 12:29 AM UTC
A kiss
but a brief encounter
of souls, through lips,
but how does a moment
contain such enormity
when falling in love
could taste like centuries.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 12:43 PM UTC
The snagged line grows taut
As I repeat the question
" Is there anything you want?"
House too empty , stairs too steep
She wants me back, I worry
"Weve been to ASDA , dont ask what i bought"
Saturday afternoon phonecall
"How are things?"
The reluctant tagline
"Not so bad"
Front garden going native
I set off down the cracked path
Doesnt want next door to see
I dont wave
TALKING THEIR LANGUAGE
June classroom, stir of voices
Arriva trains glide to the coast
Coffee needs filling, the last biscuit goes
This afternoon we look at idioms
Unpicking centuries, cultures
Somalia, Bangla Desh, Kurdistan
English remains official
Still a puzzle
"Speak slowly and clearly"
"Dont hit trees with sticks"
"Its a piece of cake"
The intricacy of language
Shapes ancient letters
"Lemon squeezy " chimes Messa
Our laughter is shared
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 6:50 AM UTC
jet planes fly over the roof
of my house and
rattle the window within the pane.
someone tiptoes to the cellar
to have a more private phonecall
with their significant other.
I lay on the couch, wrapped in a
grey robe on the floor above the
cellar floor.
Not meaning to hear every word
that you've been saying,
just too busy cracking
every bone in my body.
As the bare branches blow
on these trees from the breeze,
scratch noise on the glass breaks
and cracks.
Every way that I position
myself proves that dessert
was not meant for breakfast time.
And if you were to ask me how
I've been, I guess I would reply
that I've been better, but I'm fine.
Can not help but be thankful
to be here and alive,
however I often wonder what
it's like on the other side.
An old soul in a new age,
the colored song bird sings
from the golden cage.
Friends came and friends
went, at the end of the day I'm
glad I've got my back,
myself to make me laugh.
I remember how it felt to wear
my emotions on my sleeve,
to pinpoint every fleeing feeling
in between.
Flip every pillow to the colder side,
pick me up with your car,
let's go for a drive.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 1:00 PM UTC
That jazzy voice you handle from your lips
Is to be handled carefully. Well, it happened already
You took away every bit of somnolence from me
Suddenly emptied me, left me as a cunning child
Naughty enough to deprive himself of a night lavish with dreams,
To escape the sleep routine under the bed sheets.
And then your phonecall,
Breaking fragile silence like a hammer smashing glass,
I followed you beyond the ringing,
Discovered a trembling annoying voice.
You crafty devil, you planned my unsleeping all along,
Filling my ear with problems of all kinds and sorts
And the endless unsatisfactions of a life you never lived as yours.
So tired as hell, the phone hitting the wall,
Your voice remains, some sort of restlessness
Invades me and keeps me going all night long.
I shave, I’ve got but two hours before all cuts are healed
I put my sleep back together
Shard by shard,
Rebuild its slow glassy reflection.
My sleep is after all
A mirror which doesn’t often work.
The daylight knocks already
The nighttime fades behind me
No sleep tonight for poor devils or for me,
No sleep tonight at all.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 4:35 PM UTC
too lonely,
too alone,
here I copy,
you're already gone.
Oct 2, 2021
Oct 2, 2021 at 6:25 AM UTC
*because what's actually worth celebrating? well, i always celebrate another bunch of words, another litre of *** and, most obviously: another tomorrow.*
for a long time now i have
seized to celebrate
birthdays...
only this year have
i stopped "celebrating" easter:
coming from a traditionalist
family,
with my great-grandmother
dead for several years
everyone in the family
joked: she said enough prayers
for all of us...
my great-grandfather
took the micky out her in
that lovingly joking way anyway
he used to say:
you and your crows (priests,
that's the slang term for
a priest in poland) -
i can't remember
the last time i celebrated christmas,
or should it be called:
adverts from november through
to january marketing mecca
"holiday"?
but it breaks my heart
with regards to birthdays,
i don't celebrate it -
fair enough up to 25...
but a bit like receiving voting rights,
i think people have the potential
to relinquish their celebration
of something that's cake-worthy
once the teenage years end...
nonetheless...
on the dot,
i receive the phone call
on the day...
my grandparents...
wishing me this that & the other...
and... that's it!
it's actually more painful
to receive that phonecall,
than to receive: no phonecall
with besh wishes and what not.
i grew out the candles,
the balloons...
what is to be celebrated,
may i ask?
as the cliche says:
women lie about their age anyway,
if they found a way to avoid
the celebratory antics -
me? i'm just waiting for my
grandparents to die...
cruel, i know,
but it's much more cruel to receive
a phonecall from them,
"wishing" me a happy birthday...
day like any one...
now, if i remembered squeezing past
the genital skin of my mother...
that would be something...
thankfully, man's faculty of memory
and therefore being conscious
comes much much later,
thank god for that.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 6:11 PM UTC
I just have a lot of dreams
that are so much bigger than me.
Bigger than
a website,
a phonecall,
a degree.
Bigger than
how much I know,
what books I read,
or who I meet along the way.
I have dreams that are too big to reach
but I’ll reach them anyway.
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 4:18 PM UTC
is love
is it kindness patience understanding
is it bred from desire and lust
just a word
something else
compassion and giving
empathetic
a part of yourself to another
is it rough
harsh
sacrificing
grinding
stressful
painful
between these extremes of
elation, joy
a 3 am phonecall
makes your chest burst open
and shatter you like a mirror
you'll see your tear stained face in
day after day
become this jumbled jigsaw
of a human
be so attached to one person
then one day
not
and eventually love
someone else
or is it possible
to love two
and not let go
keep that clenched into your fist
locked in a box
guard it jealously
all those pieces
that can't be love
.......can it?
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 11:37 AM UTC
From flat number 40 on the morning of January 6th 2004 I removed myself from the situation.
I felt free that day taking photo after photo looking at the world with new vigour hoping to remind myself one day in the future that the sun peeping through leafless trees on a sunny winters morning brought more joy into my life than anything else at that time.
Out of the blue two weeks later I received a phonecall from you telling me you were moving out.
A week after you moved out you told me you were going to San Francisco for a holiday.
A day after coming back from San Fransisco you told me you went there with another man.
A week after that you told me it was your boss.
A month before you moved out you told me your boss earnt good money and that we never did anything together anymore.
On the night of January 5th 2004 I read a text on your phone from an anonymous ID which said "you consume me. I can't wait to kiss you again"
The last time I saw you I told you I loved you despite the fact I knew you'd left me for your boss. In fact, I knew you'd let him take you away to San Fransisco and he had moved into your new flat. That was the day I realised you'd fallen from grace and I'd put you on an invisible pedestal for the last 8 years. We both needed to move on.
I smile on a sunny winters day when the sun peeps through leafless trees knowing I never wasted my love on you. You were a mere mortal looking for a way out.
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 8:02 PM UTC
Frozen, breathless, only eyes can move.
The phone rang, you were trying to prove,
That you did nothing wrong, but you've lost your mind.
I cannot imagine your reasoning behind
What you did, if you haven't gone crazy, if that's what you think.
Your voice stabbed my brain, making me weak.
A cry for help, you ask us for freedom.
A laugh creeps out of my punctured lung.
Are you serious? We won't get you out!
You're insane, a monster, you put words in my mouth!
Your actions are nothing short of inhumane,
Your family loves you, but you're not the same.
"One phonecall" is what they usually give,
Or so we thought, but the ringing lives.
Leave us alone, you've done enough damage!
The pain you've caused needs more than a bandage!
In Christ alone, my hope is salvaged,
Your stay, I pray, is underprivileged.
I ache for you to feel MY pain!
You've killed a friendship, my heart, slain.
I beg God for my brother back,
But you don't understand that He's cut you your slack!
We keep handing over a silver platter
With opportunities galore, but it doesn't matter.
Selfishness contains your soul,
Your choices make our family sore.
I do not know if your remorse is true,
But again, I'll say, "I love you."
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 1:43 PM UTC