"pinpoint" poems
Erebus disaster - November zulu niner zero one
November zulu niner zero one
This is Vanda Station.
We have clear weather with no cloud and little wind.
If you want to fly over the dry valleys we will flash you with our signal mirrors so you can pinpoint the station.
Vanda Station, this is NZ niner zero one
Roger, we are now just north of Cape Hallett and will call you again for directions.
November Zulu Niner zero one Vanda Station.
Roger It’s a right hand turn just after Beaufort Island.
For the next few hours
There was no word
worst feared not heard
The radio crackled through the night
In the un natural sound of SSB
All crew up drinking coffee and tea
with the midnight sun
Glued to the HF single sideband
November zulu niner zero one
November zulu niner zero one
This is
mac centre mac centre
howcopy
November zulu niner zero one
This is
vanda station vanda station
five four zero zero
Relay relay mac centre mac centre
Please contact mac centre eight niner niner sefen
Contact mac centre eight niner niner sefen
Relay relay mac centre
Contact mac centre eight niner niner sefen howcopy
All through the night
Over and over
Hour after hour
The same message
Until that fateful call
Feared by all
Mac centre mac centre
This is
navy three two one
wreckage sighting wreckage sighting howcopy
mac centre
navy three one niner
Longitude
One six sefen
Two sefen echo
Latitude
Sefen six
Two six sierra
howcopy
Mac centre mac centre
This is
Navy three two one
Correction Correction
I say again latitude
I say again Latitude
Sefen sefen
Two six sierra
howcopy
Mac centre
Navy three two one
Ahh ahh mac centre There appear to be no survivors
Howcopy
So it was then,
That the on board data longitude error some would blame for the crash
Is something that happens often but is accommodated by good airmanship
by not relying on one thing alone.
was repeated in similar fate
by a latitude error
in the crash site location message
from the search aircraft XD01-48321
that found a terrible sight
that the sun stayed up on late
on a truly awful night
when 257 souls met their fate.
©GARY LEWIS.2009
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 5:09 PM UTC
i lay down and the smell is in the air
i search for it
your scent
possibly amongst the pillows
but i can't pinpoint it
it fills me
maybe like a heroine addicts drug
on the contrary feels like the breaking seal of a water vein
everything explodes within me
all of my thoughts of you
my moans of your name
hand caressing my body
walking downtown
and your hardships
i can't believe
the simple scent
of the man i love
can bring so much out of me
that i can't fall asleep
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 3:44 AM UTC
Erebus disaster - November zulu niner zero one
November zulu niner zero one
This is Vanda Station.
We have clear weather with no cloud and little wind.
If you want to fly over the dry valleys we will flash you with our signal mirrors so you can pinpoint the station.
Vanda Station, this is NZ niner zero one
Roger, we are now just north of Cape Hallett and will call you again for directions.
November Zulu Niner zero one Vanda Station.
Roger It’s a right hand turn just after Beaufort Island.
For the next few hours
There was no word
worst feared not heard
The radio crackled through the night
In the un natural sound of SSB
All crew up drinking coffee and tea
with the midnight sun
Glued to the HF single sideband
November zulu niner zero one
November zulu niner zero one
This is
mac centre mac centre
howcopy
November zulu niner zero one
This is
vanda station vanda station
five four zero zero
Relay relay mac centre mac centre
Please contact mac centre eight niner niner sefen
Contact mac centre eight niner niner sefen
Relay relay mac centre
Contact mac centre eight niner niner sefen howcopy
All through the night
Over and over
Hour after hour
The same message
Until that fateful call
Feared by all
Mac centre mac centre
This is
navy three two one
wreckage sighting wreckage sighting howcopy
mac centre
navy three one niner
Longitude
One six sefen
Two sefen echo
Latitude
Sefen six
Two six sierra
howcopy
Mac centre mac centre
This is
Navy three two one
Correction Correction
I say again latitude
I say again Latitude
Sefen sefen
Two six sierra
howcopy
Mac centre
Navy three two one
Ahh ahh mac centre There appear to be no survivors
Howcopy
So it was then,
That the on board data longitude error some would blame for the crash
Is something that happens often but is accommodated by good airmanship
by not relying on one thing alone.
was repeated in similar fate
by a latitude error
in the crash site location message
from the search aircraft XD01-48321
that found a terrible sight
that the sun stayed up on late
on a truly awful night
when 257 souls met their fate.
©GARY LEWIS.2009
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 5:09 PM UTC
If I could
pinpoint the
exact moment
your breath
touched mine
washed me over
in ocean waves
sea creatures glowing
in delightful recognition
as the seedlings
of connection
shimmied into our being
and, dancing within me
in its own lifeforce
your mind a living,
breathing animal
your heart, purring
and whirring its sacred forces
into my molecular structures
your soul throbbing
in mitochondric pulsing
(*oh what
a delicious vibration
of ribosomes*)
Between us, we hold
the true treasures
close, in frothy
tenderness
a purity of the expanse
of our universe,
swathed in prismatic color
colors that shift,
these fresh hues
for which there are no name
they are lucid and fine-woven
as silk histories
yet deep as earthcore
your eyes, voice
are forever burned
into my own
every day scriptures
that rock my shattered parts
into wholeness
and,
like ancient magic,
I conjure forth
the holy gospel
rising from our bones
every second of
every minute
as our deepest fires
our most secret filth
our murky corners
our darkest hours
we weave into light
brilliant and lustrous
multi-layered in the richest
folds of the earth
and as you place me
upon the shores
of your garland-graced
throne
Now I'm alive in a new
kind of light
and
all I can do
is love
and love
and love
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 5:23 PM UTC
to me,
love was always a mystery to me. i never truly understood what it was.
though, i like to think that i did and sadly, i thought everyone else knew what it was too but just like me, it was a mystery.
as someone who grew up without knowing what it truly meant,
i always thought it was something you can look for again after it's gone, something that will make you feel better on your bad days, something that will complete you.
i have loved so many times, or so i think i have.
but honestly, aren't we just a bunch of people throwing around the word love thinking that we know what it means? unintentionally making someone else feel special, not knowing what the consequences of using the word love really are?
now that i am older,
i think i finally understand.
that love is something no one can ever talk about without mentioning how much it actually hurts. loving someone meant truly wanting them in every way possible. most of us cannot handle how imperfect a person may be, and we will try our best to change them because "we only want the best for them." love is not finding perfection in someone's imperfection, but instead it is accepting the imperfections in someone and learning to love it as well.
i know i still can't tell you what love really means but i have found someone who helped me understand what love might be.
i loved every bit and piece of him, i loved everything about him. all his flaws, his appearance, his heart, his personality, his tantrums, the way he talks over me when he gets excited, how he tries to see eye to eye with me even when we have completely different point of views, **** i loved everything. everything that i never thought i'd like, i did anyway. i didn't only want him, i needed him. he did not complete me, but we go so well together. i never wanted to change anything about him even though i wanted to see them do better. i was willing to go through it all with him, good or bad.
is this what love really is? the fact that you know someone's bad side and you still love them anyways?
you see, no matter who i meet in my life and maybe, just maybe i might love them but i will still be able to pinpoint their flaws and maybe those are the things i won't like about them or the things i wish to change about them no matter how much i love them because i am selfish.
but with him, it's different because i loved it all. i still do. i never wish to change anything about him because that wouldn't be the person i love anymore and that's just something i can never do with anyone else, i can't love someone else like this.
he taught me how to be patient, kind and accepting.
but most importantly, he taught me how to love.
sadly, this love is only meant for him and no one else because love is not meant to be thrown around like how we did to others before we have met each other.
i guess your last lesson was teaching me that love also means wanting to see someone obtain the bigger and better things even if it means doing so without you.
i can finally say this to someone and mean it,
i will always love you, no matter what you do, where you go and who you meet in life.
thank you, my love.
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 2:05 PM UTC
my life is a blur.
hundreds of days,
all tumble-dried into one story.
but you are an exception to this.
when I picture you in my cluttered mind,
you are always there, in full focus.
you pinpoint my existence on the back of your hand,
and memories of us play along to the beat of
'mad sounds' by Arctic Monkeys at 2:11,
completely out of my control.
I think I'm falling,
because everything else is more blurry than ever.
(but I guess I won't know until I hit the ground)
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC
Turn out the lights.
I want to dance in the darkness of my sin.
I want to let down my hair
feel its length run wild down my spine.
I want to feel my arms reaching out into the nothingness,
want to feel the touch of the shadows
as it burns my flesh.
Turn out the lights.
I want to dance in the darkness of my sin.
I want to hear the silence of my solitude, hear it screaming
at me from the pinpoint horizon
I can't actually see because I
turned out the lights so I could dance in the darkness of my sin.
I want to feel the void
at the very center of my being
shaped like the soul I sold to a devil disguised as angel
disguised as man disguised as devil.
I can't tell anymore. Even in this
darkness, it hurts to keep my eyes
open. Even in this darkness I can
see the outline of my nakedness shining
like a beacon out to sea.
But this is not the beacon calling
to lost ships like mothers call to children.
This is the beacon that blinds my eyes
and reminds me of my imperfections.
So again,
turn out the lights.
I want to dance in the darkness of my sin.
Please, just turn out the light
that burns within me. Cut out its source
and let me fade back into the darkness.
Turn out the lights.
I want to dance in the darkness of my sin.
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 6:53 PM UTC
Staring out my dusty window
I see and admire the view
I enjoy the sight but hardly leave my room
Possibly how I feel about you?
You see, my feelings are so strong
yet so hard to pinpoint
so hard to make into words
so hard to capture
That I'll keep writing ****** poetry
I'll keep chasing songs that remind
me of you
Soon I'll get it straight in my head
at that point I'll just need to get it
straight in my mouth
Then straight to your ear
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 1:39 PM UTC
How did I go from the heartbroken to the heartbreaker?
Every time I see a girl, I think I can take her.
Once you've been hurt so many times before, you refuse to be hurt anymore.
Are my player ways a reflection of my last?
Fell in love with someone, then you find out they're an ***
Am I becoming my exes?
Already thinking about the next while I'm with my present?
I can't pinpoint my change.
It's kinda strange.
I did a complete 180,
because I never felt this way.
But does this make me a bad person?
Am I afraid of healing?
Maybe it's the fear of commitment that I'm feeling.
I can be so distant.
Not grow attached.
Back-to-back relationships,
I don't see nothing wrong with that.
I just don't get feelings.
Is it so wrong that I've become numb?
It's like I don't have any remorse for what I've done.
So..
Am I becoming my ex?
Am I a bad person?
Am I done healing?
Or..
Am I still hurting?
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 9:28 PM UTC
Listen.
I know you've lived longer
Than my short quarter century life.
I know you've seen more,
Done more, loved more,
Touched more, tasted more,
Experienced more things than i.
I know you're only trying to help.
I appreciate the giving of advice.
I know you mean well
When you say it's time to give them up,
It's time to move on,
To be my own person,
To learn to live for only myself.
But you haven't lived through
The total decimation of your family.
You haven't watched as the lives
Of your loved ones fall into utter ruin
One by one.
You weren't relegated to helpless paralysis
By the fear that you'd lose them all
And by the depression that came with knowing
You couldn't even help yourself.
You don't know what it feels like
To have the dagger of abandonment,
The shattered shards of broken hearts,
The pinpoint needles of disillusionment,
The three-pronged fork of misunderstanding,
****** into your soul over and over
By every lemon life throws your way.
You don't know what it is to stand
On the brink of death
Because if you don't have them,
You have nothing.
You still have your family.
All intact and whole.
So don't begrudge me
My clutching, grasping, clinging attempts
At keeping what remnants of a family I have
Together.
I will not let them go
Until they have to be pried
From my dead hands.
And even then, I will still be loyal.
They are all i have.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
if you stop following the rules
they say you have disorder
even if it's just a little bit
and they can't pinpoint who you are to them
borderline personality disorder
everything's either evil, or good
people are placed in categories
to the extreme
then it calms down
it's called
hyper mood swing
bi polar
tri polar
quadruple by pass aint savin me
**** the rules
manic impressive
your diagnosis is depressive
can't handle a little love
a little chat
a little quiet
some existence
you can't see
or feel
hyperbole turned real
is a psychopath's mind
errrr
i'm like a dog on a leash
waitin to bite
the first ************ i see
if he acts up
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 1:28 PM UTC
Paltry people project putrid opinions, propelled from puny pinpoint brains, in their pint-sized prickly pineapple pulp heads.
If they stopped and stayed silent, stood still and listened, stuff some significant people said would seep in, and seem simply superb when seen with acceptance and socially sensitive skills
Feb 3, 2010
Feb 3, 2010 at 8:14 AM UTC
Daddy is almost 60 years old now.
His fragile arms wrap around me like a porcelain doll as he takes his last drag of his cigarette. He tells me it won’t **** him.
Two weeks ago, my dad found my hand-me-down blades. I told him he did not need to worry because my addiction of the blades painting my canvas has been replaced to the deadliest addiction; loving a boy.
Everyone has an addiction.
Addiction is passed down from generation to generation.
That’s probably why my brother has the addiction of letting acid flow through his lips.
Mommy has the addiction of having a man in different cloths sleep next to her at night,
And ***** has the addiction of letting her boyfriend leave black and blue “love marks” all over her body, and yet she still has the audacity to say that she loves him.
I met a boy today that told me his addiction was needle, I asked him how.
He told me that it comes as natural as you need to drink water and his arms were marked up with pinpoint bumps like hills but despite the green they were purple and blue leading up to his shoulders, then I saw one on his neck. But this one seemed different, it seemed like a rope was strangling him and up above was a branch of hope flowing down the drain, because his opportunities were caged in a non-existent box.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 7:51 PM UTC
*It's not the haze of the early morning
taking up your side of the bed
that tells me it's time to pretend
you weren't here again last night.
It's not the gaze of a silent songbird
peering at me through the window
that tells me it's time to act
like I don't know who you were.
It's not anything I can pinpoint
or explain, convey, or describe
that would let you know how much
I wish this wasn't so.*
Aug 7, 2011
Aug 7, 2011 at 10:30 PM UTC
There is an algorithm out there,
somewhere on the web
it is calculating my every click
my likes, my comments
how many hours I spend at night
browsing poetry
or probably ****
There is an algorithm out there,
somewhere on the web
it collects my style, my taste
it knows my favorite color,
it has studied my face
the way no lover ever has,
down to the freckle.
There is an algorithm out there,
somewhere on the web
it knows things about me
my friends or family would never ask.
It knows how many times
I have searched the word 'suicide'
how many times I asked for nudes
and how many times I received.
It knows my greatest fears
but also my most coveted dreams.
It knows things about me
I may have forgotten about me.
There is an algorithm out there,
somewhere on the web
it has created an image of me
I would rather not see
nor believe in its legitimacy
yet every time I go to type
its guesses my next thought
with pinpoint accuracy.
There is an algorithm out there...
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 6:03 PM UTC
A phrase that people treat
like a joke, and that people
have failed to recognize the
significance of.
Black is beautiful.
Brown is beautiful.
Over breakfast foods I tried to
discuss how saying,
"I prefer white people/
I find white people attractive"
is subtle racism.
It was a difficult dialogue that
left me sick and empty.
The feeling of being more radical
than everyone around you.
Meeting a black girl who wants to be white,
hearing from all your friends,
"I just prefer white people",
I see, I see a dominant ideology that
places whiteness above everything else,
especially blackness. It is also a lie.
It is definitely racist.
It says that despite all other qualities a person may have,
their skin color holds them back in your eyes.
Instead I am told my ideas exist in a "box".
The reality of what I say is intensely real to me.
If you can't see the racism in yourself,
I'm not holding you to a quality where
you can point it out in others.
If you can openly pinpoint attractiveness to skin color
and just try to cop it out as "preference"
I am going to call you racist.
Black is beautiful.
Brown is beautiful.
You are not "naturally" attracted to white people.
In that phrase, you tell me it is unnatural for you
to be attracted to black people, or any person of color.
It is not natural. You have adopted the dominant ideology.
It is a subtle and now inherent racism.
I am tired of feeling sick because I'm the radical,
however it is a feeling I understand I will never escape.
It will follow me my entire life, I hope.
I'm sick of feeling marginalized because I recognize
sexism exists, and racism exists, and subtlety does not
******* hide it from me, I'm sick sick sick sick sick of it.
**** it though, I'd rather be sick my entire life,
and see the racism in me and others
than not see it, and just passively swallow that ideology.
I'll carry that weight in my guts,
not because I'm a martyr, because I ******* hate everyone;
because I love myself just that much.
I don't deserve to be that person anymore.
Black is beautiful.
Brown is beautiful.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
I cannot pinpoint the exact moment that it happened.
That monumental moment when I completely and totally
allowed myself to fall
for you.
I fell hard, uncoordinated and bruised
I crash landed into your arms
and sank into the clouds of your love.
It was too much to absorb at once
so I let some of it just float around me
hoping I could save this love
and let it thrive upon itself
so that maybe
just this once
it would last.
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 3:17 PM UTC
I lack inspiration, when sound does not riddle the causeways of my mind
when echos bounce less around my cranium and more from my lips i find..
solace,
solace in the fact that no longer am i directed from indirect communications but more from the sound i make,
i learnt to grasp the steering wheel in both hands and turn sharp in the corners,
i learnt that without sound echoing through my ears my eyes work with pinpoint accuracy..
i never noticed the way the grass grows over old cobbles..
i never noticed the way my heart beats
the way it skips, and bleats,
i learnt not to be a sheep, but a profit,
a guider to the blind,
don't tell them I'm blind as-well
because it doesn't matter if i can see or i cant
it does not matter if what i say is truth or lies
but if the fiction of my antiquity compels you to lift your heart up
brings joy from the desolation of your mind but to the fore front of the battle field that is your life i have achieved something incredible, I've achieved peace
peace through happiness, joy through inspiration so read on!
read on young soldier,
your broken mind and battle ready battle wounds are bound too tightly by your compassion to conform
take of your bandages and read on! read forwards and on wards and strive to learn, why
why young soldier i know you've never been trained
and i know your mind is ill with discontent and i know your shoes are whittled to your socks and i know
i know how hard it is to stand with two broken legs and only the solace of that barren bare cranium to lean on
but in my antiquity young soldier
i have learnt that we are all warriors
fighters along a broken line standing our ground against greater odds then you could ever conceive of battling...
i know young solider that many will fall and die
and many will perish to broken minds and hearts and souls,
but the ones who make it through this perishable existence, the ones who fight beyond any compassion beyond any reason,
god I've met boys who will tear out each others throats with their teeth I've learnt that men are shells of creatures that have never been fully understood,
my existence has been about
nothing but fighting
and now i have reached an age where i can lay down the rifle of my words, i can leave my blunted knives to rust in a back closet i realized young soldier
the agony of your existence may seem like the end, but its just the start.
and when your reach a point in your life where you can rest,
savor it,
do not let someone tell you how to exist without your consent , do not fight a battle you do not want to fight,
stand your ground young soldier
re-reinforcements are on the way
L.G
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
My mind is going weird again and hurting my head
I don't know what to make of it
I think
I want a male me
Or just me. I want another me. Doesn't necessarily have to be male. Can be female. Why not both. But I want another physical and spiritual embodiment of who I am as a person
A part of me just wants to hug and hold someone. And my head is automatically choosing said person, but the feeling of the mere hug and contact is overshadowing the identity of the person by a few degrees
I miss calloused hands roaming my body. And I miss body heat. I miss legs I can entangle mine with. I miss the crooks of necks. I miss snores emanating from a chest and hearing the rumble in the air from it. I miss tired faces resting and appearing destressed. I miss light groans as a body shifts positions in their sleep.
I think I can pinpoint what it is that I miss. Because although all sound like physical and verbal responses, it is not the actions, although they always go hand in hand.
I think I miss intimacy. But what is necessarily intimacy?
There's a few definitions as soon as one googles it
A close familiarity or closeness. A private, cozy atmosphere. A closeness of observation or knowledge of a subject.
My chest aches and pounds as I try to put my finger on what it is I'm searching for. The more it aches, the closer I am to finding my answer
Intimacy.
In-tih-mah-see.
In-to-me-see.
See-in-to-me.
Intimacy is to see in to me.
It is to let and allow someone to see you for who you are, to know what makes you a being.
But not necessarily in your head.
Intimacy is the knowledge of how another person's mind control's their body. How the body reacts to acts that can cause the mind to blank or move forward just off-beat of the body.
It's dragging your fingertips over their body and feeling the goosebumps rise as a laugh comes from the mouth over the words "popcorn butter is actually coconut oil with artificial flavoring" and feeling your eyes connect the dots between those goosebumps to their face and your brain noticing the connection between noises and nerve endings.
Intimacy is a weird state to be in. Because too much can cause the mind to blank and overload itself with serotonin and dopamine. All the while there is never enough time in the world to drag on that forever feeling
It's the act of getting lost in a person and discovering bits and pieces of how you affect said person.
In body, in mind, in response
I think I'm done because I don't know how else to frame my words. My head hurts and my chest pounds with equal force. I believe it's time for me to bid adieu and deal with this in the dreamscape
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 11:24 PM UTC
Lately your belly laughs and dry humor are flooding my mind. The only times we make eye contact are over volleyball nets and ice cream sales. Once the most important man in my life, you no longer fill the position. I fired you.
But then again, it’s like you quit. Instead of asking me about my day, you tell me about your new girlfriend. I’m beginning to forget the directions in which the wrinkles around your eyes move. I can’t exactly pinpoint your gray hairs anymore. You once embraced me with a father’s love but now pat your hand on my back.
Despite the frigid weather when you left, it didn’t seem so cold. But nine months has now felt like nine years and the temperature has only declined. It’s no surprise considering communication has never been your strong suit. Every time you speak is a cliffhanger. I am dangling from heights unknown, waiting for an answer that may not come. I want to submerge myself in your company and harmonize our voices in conversation. How are you?
My eyes do not reflect the chocolate brown in yours but instead radiate blue like the ocean. Unfortunately this is not our only contrast. Funny how years ago our faces were so similar but now that things have changed our only mutual feature is our height.
You’re half my original chromosomes but I don’t even know half of your day. Where do you go when it’s dark and the moon is shining down over you? What do you call home? Your absence is a mystery I cannot solve. The position I once promised you has been filled by a more qualified candidate; you wonder why I’m always with my boyfriend.
Although I am angry, I am sure this is unintentional. My hope is that this is only temporary. The only question is, how long will you be gone; when will you re-apply?
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 12:06 PM UTC
oh, **** i'm so full of love it's spilling out of me
like bullet wounds, like i've been court martialed,
like i'm the pinpoint of a broken sheet of glass,
the part from which everything else shatters;
of course i'm the centre of the universe,
who else would be? who else could love this way,
fierce and terrible and hating? who else other than me
could break the universe for another chance at hello
or at two thousand and nineteen?
which isn't to say i'm manic. which isn't to say
that i don't cry in the shower and scream in the car.
i do. but when i do, i'm the main event;
nobody booked tickets to see anybody but me here.
don't kid yourself, world. don't make me laugh.
don't act like everything is okay when i'm breaking the baby-bird bones
of my fingers every time someone else talks.
me, the human stress ball.
me, twenty stories tall and universe-filled with love,
nothing else can even come close. i'm ******* godzilla,
i'm interplanetary, i'm that giant ******* marshmallow man
from ghostbusters getting shot at by the heroes.
maybe there's just too much of me to love the way i need
to be loved; completely, obsessively, like an illness.
oh, god, i want to be loved like i'm sick.
not just another hospital bed but the whole **** ward
all for me. all eyes on me. nobody looking anywhere but me
and *oh, please, i'm fine, really,
i don't need all this attention.*
like i'm daring the world to divert it away.
a birthday list of gifts:
- a fifth of whiskey
- a gun with one bullet
- the attention that people get from the crowd below before they jump off a building
i don't think i'm asking for too much here.
i feel like i'm one of those unlucky ******** born on christmas day
who get half the presents for twice the occasion.
how cruel must god be to birth me anywhere but eden,
into a world where other people exist,
where we have jobs and say hello to store cashiers and divide up our attention like slices of mandarin.
so where's this revolution i ordered?
where are the people making me important?
i need a cause to lead and a muzzle for my heart,
and i'll burn on and out,
not like a star, but like the end of the ******* universe itself.
and here i am, acting like i matter
when i really only want to matter to you.
i don't care how you want me to revolve
as long as i'm a lone moon. as long as the tides
are all mine; see, it's a lot more complex
than me playing easy villain or anti hero. it's not
been about me this entire time.
but i can't write poems about any other subject.
Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 8:13 PM UTC
the love i have for her
is unlike anything i've ever felt
i care more for her than i even do myself
she is so fragile, so weak
yet at the same time
her strength is inspiring
her face is a wonder
her eyes a beautiful, blue hue
i could stare into them forever
for there is no competing view
i love the way her voice sounds
it's so sweet and pure
when she tells me she loves me
when she calls me baby
it is my undoing
i fall in love with her all over again
kissing her soft and supple lips
is my most favorite task
they're plump and pink
her tongue is so sweet
there is something so precious
about her very essence
i can't quite pinpoint what it is
but the more i am with her
the more that i see her
i realize it is because
being precious is inherently part of her
there is no other way for her to be
that's just how she is naturally
i can't believe that she is mine
she is sweeter than the finest dessert wine
if i am completely deserving
i do not know
but i will fight for her always
i will never let her go
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 2:43 PM UTC
If I were a planet, I would be as debated as Pluto.
Scientists eons away that have no business with me and probably never will discussing all of my qualities to pinpoint me into a label they've created to push me like a pinball machine into different slots of make believe self esteem.
If I were a planet, I would be the one whose moon is speculated to be made of cheese.
No one quite aware of what really lies out there but it's fun to dream up stories and ideas that we know will never be true.
No matter how damaging to this solemn planet's reputation in its universe these folk tales may be.
If I were a planet, my sun would have an oval shaped revolution, sometimes close and sometimes far, moving its inspiration along on its route and leaving just when my people need it the most.
If I were a planet, my living organisms would speak in tongues unknowing to even me.
Desperately searching every tick in them to see how they view their home, but always confusing me as I spin on my axis round and round.
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 3:41 PM UTC