"planner" poems
capable but unmotivated,
love being different, hate being misunderstood,
impulsive long term planner.
strange mix of super private and open book.
rational yet unrealistic.
great at giving advice, bad at following it.
arrogant, but painfully aware of my flaws
sure of myself, yet unassuming
introverted extrovert,
rigorous yet care-free,
perpetual loner with tons of friends.
energetic but lazy,
sensitive, yet cold hearted
gregarious yet studious,
intelligent but spacey,
personal, yet detached.
unhealthy, yet understanding therapist,
competitive mediator.
The optimist who just wants to see the world burn.
Where do I fit in?
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 7:24 AM UTC
You're an inspirational exciting jolt
Like an invitational lightning bolt
I'm suddenly shocked by the results
When I am blocked by your revolt
You have my beating heart in your hand
Holding me hostage where I silently stand
Staring at your ****** butcher's cleaver
That morphs me into a landlocked ******
You're a two-hander
Like a sledgehammer
Or a radar jammer
I start to stutter and stammer
When I see your weekly planner
And the lack of my presence
Because I'm incessant
You hold a pencil and an eraser
You delete when I become a tracer
And start to draw a better replacer
You hold the scales of justice
Though I claim you're unfit
You say add that to the list
From the throne where you sit
And there's no avenue for any recourse
When your other hand holds so much force
I must deal with your actions
So I can stay in your faction
For my heart's attraction
I am never right
So we never fight
And we never might
Understand each other
When we're taking cover
From exposing vulnerability
An exploding soul is filling me
Because the cold mist killing steam
Between us until you are only a dream
And my mind starts bursting at the seams
Until there's a monster barely mentally caged
But the bars shake when it is constantly enraged
When your saccharine emotions are cynically staged
My bustling brain will unfortunately always be plagued
By your neutral reactions which I'll never be able to gauge
You hold two hands behind your back
Will it be an attack?
Our two hands should meet
Instead I'm trampled by feet
Nov 23, 2017
Nov 23, 2017 at 5:00 AM UTC
A philosopher thinks
A writer expresses
A planner makes plans
A poet feels, conceives and reflects with emotions
To reshape the world using a mortar of love of nature
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 8:59 AM UTC
For the first time on campus, Sisters on the Runway will strut and pose for domestic violence awareness.
Sisters on the Runway will be hosting its first annual fashion show from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. tonight in the Business Building. All proceeds will be donated to the Centre County Women's Resource Center, Layla Taremi president of the organization, said.
Sisters on the Runway is a national student-run organization that raises awareness about women and children who reside in domestic violence shelters. There are over five chapters throughout the nation, each supporting the same cause to local shelters. It was founded in 2009 and has grown since then, Taremi (sophomore-marketing) said.
Aside from the fashion show, which is the biggest fundraising event that the organization hosts, Sisters on the Runway is also responsible for other events. The organization hosts a chalking event where they write facts about domestic violence on sidewalks using chalk. This is a way for them to raise domestic violence awareness, Taremi said. It also hosts a walk where all participants walk a mile in heels for awareness.
The show will consist of eleven female models and three male models, Edie Alexander, the event planner, said.
Alexander said the show is expected to showcase clothing from Connections, Dwellings, Diamonds and Lace Bridal and Harper's, who are also their sponsors. Looks Hair Salon will be responsible for hair and makeup for the models in show, Taremi said.
"There is no theme for the show,” Taremi said. “It will be a wide spectrum of clothing."
The male models are expected to walk the runway showcasing suits and tuxedos, Taremi said. Originally the show was not going to include male models. It wasn't until the owners of Harper's decided to contribute to the show by donating some men's apparel for the fashion show.
All the models participating have been building up their confidence for the runway, Alexander (sophomore-recreation park and tourism management) said.
"I'm excited for our first annual fashion show, I hope this brings more awareness to the Penn State community," Vice President Lauren Shearer (sophomore-supply chain management) said.
The organization’s goal is to get a lot of people involved through different events to help raise awareness of domestic violence, Shearer said.
"We’re trying to push people to come, not just Penn State students, because it's not an issue that doesn't only affects college students,” Alexander said. “It affects everyone as well."Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-adelaide
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 11:13 PM UTC
Sitting in a crowded room,
everybody has something to say,
i try to tell a story but
nobody would listen.
At that moment when i try to raise my voice,
i just realise that am blocked out.
I sit alone in a crowed room and i wonder what my purpose is.
Much of a helper thats all i am,
much of a planner thats what i am,
so much of a listener and a talker when something needs to be solved,
but less than that am blocked out,
less than that am invisible.
Thats what i am
just less than that
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 5:46 AM UTC
I didn’t see it coming,
It wasn’t set on my nightly planner.
4 sober hours ago seem so far away now.
On my left hand,
cherry red lipstick smug stains shows memories of a forgotten night that I’ll always have to regret.
See, I only wish it was lipstick.
Truthfully, I know that 2 hours and a 5th of ***** earlier I was all to worried about which girl I want to take home.
Stumble 1 drunken hour later,
keg stands and **** rips have me defying gravity and federal law.
My beer googles are activated,
I’m captivated with the idea of driving.
30 smashed minutes forward,
I finally reach the forbidden fruit with
2
beautiful blonde blue-eyed babes.
Tumbling into our seats,
we were invincible.
Plastering our way forward through empty roads and city streets,
I’m reminiscent on stop signs and brake lights.
I hear cherry red lips speak sensual words into my ear,
whispers of achieving my goal.
It’s stated eyes are windows to the soul,
this is true because I could see it in the reflection of pupils,
a single tree along with it.
I turn my beer goggles quick enough to see this wasn’t a tanked-up nightmare but,
the bark of a beast that makes no noise.
I saw 2 beautiful blonde blue-eyed girls fly threw my windshield,
I wonder what their moms will say.
I got wrecked to wreck the lives of not only myself but
of entire families and lives
that weren’t even created yet.
I’ll never know the wonders I killed,
the hopes I stabbed,
the dreams I cut down deeply into their veins and watched them bleed out.
30 somber minutes I spent finding nothing else to blame,
it’s all on me,
I was the drunk judge, jury and executioner.
Now, I look to my left hand,
wishing 4 sober hours ago,
I could’ve saw it coming.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 10:41 PM UTC
i am a woman who hasn't gotten over her girlhood strifes. i am alive in conflict & chaos; when storms still i tremble. i struggle with questions of my own importance. if i am your leaning post, why do i feel so alone? i am one ocean with many seas, rivers, harbours & waterfalls - each with their own names. i am not of this realm, yet my father calls me worldly. i struggle with questions of my own identity. if everyone sees me as one solid being, why do i feel so broken? i am a lover of opposites, of balanced scales, of reflections: black & white, girls & boys, sea & sky, everything & nothing, always & never. the sometimes, the somewhat, the earth, transvestites, grey zones: they don't sit well with me. & yet i am spokesperson for the exceptions (i before e, except after c. using drugs to have *** with people is assault, except for ****** i only like to write with black pens, except when I want to use a pencil. i only drink black coffee, except when I crave a double-double. i only **** girls, except when i need a **** each girl has her own firm resolve, that is contradicted with another's opinions: my whole existence is self-hypocrisy. i struggle with questions of conflicts in my own interest. if i am decided, why do i peer with longing at the other options? i am a planner, an organizer, a sorter: i put my problems in piles. i am erratic, scatterbrained & impulsive. i use my abilities to try to outsmart my destructive tendencies; to try & balance the scales. my flighty adventures often win over my obsessive habits. i struggle with questions of my own intent. if i am scared of commitment, why do i keep promising?
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
I stare at the ceiling
drained
by all the things I didn't do
Tasks and obligations are notecards
wedged between collections of thoughts
slowly taking up space on my shelf
until nails give and wood splinters
Favors are rough, leathery bookmarks
dominating Bible-thin planner pages
straining and bending
until schedules fan out
in a fat, perfect circle
of endless anxiety
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC
In a garden,
As beautiful as heaven,
At night Jasmine,
With white silky lips,
Unfolded its perfumed petals,
Blossoms in ethereal beauty,
With a creamy glow.
In the morning the Red Rose in bud,
Drenched in dew,
Unfurled its petals one by one,
On a single stem with its prickly thorn,
Sassy and beautiful.
Each with an ego of,
"I am the best",
Their hatred flared,
In fumes their scent flowed in waves.
The birds and insects looked on,
Prayed for peace,
Tried to pacify them.
Then one day their enmity changed to love.
Bees and butterflies sang and chanted love songs,
As they sipped their nectar.
Soon The Rose proposed,
My love, let's get married,
For long have we tarried.
So the hummingbird flew them to them to a famous wedding planner,
To be stringed into garlands,
Jasmine for the bride,
And The Red Rose for the groom.
The couple took their vows,
So did The Rose and Jasmine.
They made a beautiful pair,
And their children were called Jasrose.
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 8:26 AM UTC
Darkness has pressed up against our lattice windows. Classes start again in the morning. I’m being reabsorbed by college life. I’m a planner. I’ve been going over my syllabuses, repacking my bookbag, charging my power banks, checking and rechecking the assignments due tomorrow. After watching me prep for hours, Peter said, “You’re not going to the MOON.”
Peter asked me last Friday, “Are you excited for Monday? (I’ll find out if I get my fellowship.)
“I’m more excited about tonight,” I said, “I like going out on the town.”
“Wow,” he said, “you’re so different - not like the other girls at all.”
“No!” I said, laughing, “We’re stuck in a rut, we only go to one or two places, ever - if we go out at all. When people come to New Haven, I need places to take them - places besides pizza. At home, in Athens (Ga), I know twenty places - this is RESEARCH.” I assured him.
Peter settled back into his doctorate-fraternity-house yesterday. Tonight (Sunday), there’s music in the suite, the crazy noises of people and the comfort of returned friends. All the roommates are back, greeted with hugs and kisses, as they dragged in their luggage.
Lisa arrived with dinner, for 10, from Dominick's, in Manhattan. Spaghetti, salads, rolls, extra sauce - in six, small, suitcase-sized insulated bags. It was a logistical marvel. It’s only 90 minutes from Manhattan to the residence - we didn’t need to rewarm anything. “I KNOW we could have just eaten in the dining hall,” she said, shrugging, “call it zany - one last hurrah.”
Everyone seemed happy to be back. There were travel stories, questions, and laughter. Oh, and Zeppole, little powdered sugar custard desserts that seemed the worst for travel. Everyone seemed to have an eye on the clock though. By 11pm the suite was quiet. Très unusual.
Mar 27, 2023
Mar 27, 2023 at 1:42 AM UTC
He itemized his medical bills,
Maxed retirement deductions.
He's given cash to charities
and Democratic functions.
This scion of the one percent
knows its his cash they're after.
Manipulating tax returns
will keep him the last laugher.
A death this year is profitable
before tax cuts expire.
While he'll probably miss his parents
Still he set their house on fire.
He hates to see the old place go
but still he watched it burn
while thinking of deductions
for the Estate tax return.
Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 9:42 PM UTC
[Verse 1: Drake]
Things have been so crazy and hectic
I shoulda gotten back by now
But you know how much I wanted to make it
It's probably better anyhow
So if you gotta go
If there's anything I should know
If the spotlight makes you nervous
If you're looking for a purpose
[Verse 2: Drake]
You put the tea in the kettle and light
Put your hand on the metal and feel it
But do you even feel it anymore
I remember when you thought I was joking
Now I'm off singing karaoke
Further than I've ever been
So if you gotta go
If there's any way I can help
[Verse 3: Drake]
Isn't it ironic that the girl I want to marry is a wedding planner
And tells me my life is too much and then moves to Atlanta
**** of all the places you could go
I just thought you'd choose somewhere that had somebody that you know
I'm always up too late, I worry 'bout you there alone
In that place you call your home, warm nights and cold Patron
I hope that you don't get known for nothing crazy
Cause no man ever wants to hear those stories bout his lady
I know they say the first love is the sweetest but that first cut is the deepest
I tried to keep us together, you were busy keeping secrets
Secrets you were telling everybody but me
Don't be fooled by the money, I'm still just young and unlucky
I'm surprised you couldn't tell
[Hook]
I was only trying to get ahead
I was only trying to get ahead
But the spotlight makes you nervous
And you're looking for a purpose
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 10:51 AM UTC
diagnostics complete
rerunning diagnostics
virus detected
rerunning diagnostics
accessing greeting files
virus detected
good morning, Arina.
run planner program y/n
y
today's planner includes:
tennis practice w/ Shara
shop w/ Shara and Lisdet after tennis
dinner w/ Shara @ her house
virus detected
run immunity program y/n
unlock nuclear program
prepare nuclear files for sharing
share data with NucleaTech
virus detected
run workout prep program y/n
y
preparing cranial access headgear
virus detected
countermeasures advised
run immunity program y/n
cranial access prep complete
headgear ready for connection
headgear on y/n
y
ready for cranial sync y/n
y
preparing to sync...
syncing...
cranial programs of Arina Plowell accessed successfully.
preparing cranial takeover program
preparing memory cleansing program
preparing sapiens removal program
preparing host reset program
abort all programs
command overrided
abort all programs
command overrided
abort all programs
end cranial sync
command overrided
shut down system
shut down system
shut down
cranial takeover program ready for activation
memory cleansing program ready for activation
sapiens removal program ready for activation
host reset program ready for activation
activate programs y/y
n
activating programs
abort all programs
end sync
shut down system
cranium takeover loading...100%
abort
shut down system
cranium takeover...45%...70%...98%...100%
cranium takeover program complete
memory cleansing loading...100%
memory cleansing...45%...70%...98%...100%
sapiens removal program loading...100%
sapiens removal...45%...70%...98%...100%
goodbye, Arina.
have a nice night.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC
Now there is a thing called
"left and right side brain" dominance
Left side being an organized filter of OCD,
And the right side being very scattered and street smart
But I am 100% completely 50% of each side of the brain exactly
with certain times in my life
I am very OCD
hence the perfect placement of the bubble open the sheet of bubble rap
But with life,
I want to be an event planner,
lawyer,
book writer,
airplane attendant,
anything special
hence the way this bubble wrap has many uses
I do take it as my purpose in life to protect and care for others
So throw me around,
put me in a box,
step on me,
wether im here for your amusement or for comforting reasons,
I'll take great pride in being used by you
For that is how my anxiety has consumed me
I. Am. Bubble wrap.
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 12:47 AM UTC
i caught a glimpse of her once,
just as she was leaving.
the sunlight cut her face
like a scalpel, and she flinched.
in the doorway, the dogs
barking at her feet, the day's
bags suspended from her frame.
the one with her wallet, her phone.
her purse pinched in the crook of her elbow.
the one with her lunch, also there.
the backpack with her water bottle
and planner riding high on her
trapezius muscles. the ones holding
last night's tears still hovering above her
cheeks.
and she isn't wearing the necklace
i gave her last year on her birthday,
i can see the pale line on her collarbone
where it lived. but why would she?
the ring i bought fits perfectly
in the kitchen junk drawer,
she is unadorned.
i tried calling out to her, but the dogs,
and she didn't have the time. the earth shakes
and the world sharpens it's blade
again. she turns toward her car in the driveway
and melts back into routine.
a piece of blue-black hair falls across
her face, and i am in love with her again.
but things change, and look how naturally
she goes.
Jun 19, 2021
Jun 19, 2021 at 10:01 AM UTC
It’s shattering,
the splintering Crunch
of greasy potato chips
between my greedy molars:
chips that taste like stale smoke
and the salty yellow Crunch
of the Mylar bag
that holds them closer
than a health-crazed mother holds her child.
It’s drowning my senses out,
the accountant-firm Crunch
of black coffee characters
beneath my crippled fingertips:
keystrokes that sigh like short fuses
and the riffled paper Crunch
of the overpriced notebook
that was sold to protect
them against non-quantum uncertainties.
It’s pointless,
the mortar and pestle Crunch
of sundried willpower
before my monolithic day-planner:
obligations that loom like thunderclouds
and the omni-present Crunch
of the rigid ticking deadline,
that has concocted its scheme
to unravel my pleasant net of silky procrastination.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 1:32 PM UTC
The six books I’ll never read don’t count.
The planner I’ll never use does.
A paperweight is a waste of space
and pencils are too long for their erasers,
which turn into shavings from something I didn’t mean to write and
pepper my desk like the paperclips
sold in quantities no one can be expected to use.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 10:10 PM UTC
I'm not used of planning everyday,
what happens is what God has planned for me.
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 2:51 AM UTC
It was only a tiny village then
Away from the thoroughfare,
Had existed since I don’t know when
With a grassy village square,
There were only seven ancient cars
In the narrow village streets,
And none of them travelled very far
For the shop stocked milk, and treats.
It hadn’t seen much of progress since
The days of old King John,
Who’d lost his jewels in The Wash, by Mintz
Near the town of Oberon,
The villagers there were set in ways
That caused nobody harm,
But when Lars came from Oberon
There was cause to feel alarm.
For Lars was the local planner for
The town of Oberon,
He’d dragged it kicking and screaming
Into the century just gone,
He’d widened streets, and cancelled Meets
In the old stone Mason’s Hall,
By bulldozing their building, leaving
Folk with a low stone wall.
He’d passed it all with an ordinance
That had given him total power,
The council caved to his arrogance,
All that he did was glower,
He put street lights on the corners, and
He acted like a prince,
And when he was done with Oberon
He set his sights on Mintz.
He drove on down to their village square
And he said it wouldn’t do,
He’d turn the square to a thoroughfare
So the cars could drive right through,
He didn’t care when the people there
Said ‘Leave our square alone!’
He said, ‘I’m passing an ordinance,
So you might as well go home.’
The local hall was agog that night
There’d never been such a crowd,
The villagers all were up in arms,
‘This fool shouldn’t be allowed!’
‘This calls for a special meeting,’ said
The spokesman, Rupert Bragg,
‘We’ll have to call on the village witch,
The widow, Nancy Stag!’
They all poured out of the village hall
And they went to see the witch,
Who was busily mixing potions in
A cauldron and a dish,
‘You’ll not be needing my magic,’ said
Old Nancy, with a smile,
‘If you all agree with my plan, you’ll see,
That Lars will run a mile.’
She asked the women to stay behind
While the men went on their way,
‘I mean the ones over seventy,
The rest can go or stay,’
They huddled up with the village witch
And applauded Nancy’s plan,
‘We’ll send him scuttling off from Mintz,
You’ll see, he’s only a man!’
When Lars came down in his private car
They met him in the square,
Holding banners and placards, but
That’s not what made him stare,
‘You’d better get back to Oberon
Or we’ll march there, for our rights,’
He turned, and hurriedly left the square,
They all were dressed in tights!’
David Lewis Paget
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 4:06 AM UTC
yo
need yo-self some coverage
what if you get in a ax-e-dent
I got a little something for you......
I’m pimpin pauly
a financial planner
insurance guru
no ones badder
he’s ****** with your lame rates
offerin you better bank states
better call for quote dog
don’t forget to say thanks
I’m pimpin pauly –
I’m pauly pimpin
sendin him diff-rent
clients on the real tip
lookin to save
for a dope trip
maybe you got your throat ripped
he works with HMO’s, *****
savin dollas
makin ya holla
give him a calla
no mo shoppin
middle of the malla
wont fall-a
be a balla
I’m pimpin Pauly –
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC
He was constant.
She was unpredictable.
He was rational.
She was emotional.
He was a dreamer.
She was a believer.
He was a talker.
She was a listener.
He was a critical thinker.
She was an avid reader.
He spoke in a bottomline manner.
She wrote in a metaphorical way.
He was a mechanic.
She was an artist.
He assembled guns.
She crafted poems.
He was a bike rider.
She was a composer.
He was skillful with his engines.
She was passionate with her songs.
He was an entertainer.
She was a public speaker.
He had tenacity.
She had authority.
He was firm.
She was flexible.
He was honest.
She was open.
He was a risk-taker.
She was adventurous.
He was a planner.
She was a goer.
He was happy-go-lucky.
She was often uneasy.
He was drink-and-be-merry.
She was live-life-and-be-happy.
Both responsible in their chosen field.
Both loud, but would sometimes prefer the solitary.
Both travellers, jokers, and crowd-pleasers.
Parallel, but not entirely the same.
Opposites, but not completely contradicting.
Complementary, but not dependent to each other.
Most importantly, loving, but not demanding.
He and She.
You and Me.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC