"preoccupy" poems
Can I trust the eyes seeking mine?
I want to
Because they look like home
Through sepia tones
A bittersweet nostalgia before
We learned how easily people break
I want to trust your arms
They look just big enough to hold me
When I know the only way I feel safe
Is in the shape of a ball
And if you were any more beautiful
I’d be ********
Much like the ten beers I should’a
Said no to
Before you
And they
Had me sycophantic and stumbling
And already
just a little bit
********
I want the smell of you to linger on my clothes
The same way fire does
After a book burning
Just a little bit shameful
I want you to stop my stammering
With a kiss
To preoccupy my mouth
Long enough to subdue my stupid
I want to let go
Of the fever that makes my back sweat
When I see you
And the worry
That your eyes might lose their shine someday
I want you
In all the ways that
I am probably not supposed to want you
But I do
I want our wrinkles to one day fit
Like ****** up Ziploc bags
It’s that bad
So kiss me
Before I tell you that
And maybe
keep your eyes closed
Until I can trust them
Because I want to
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 10:34 PM UTC
Start with the unknown,
A first time at something new.
One little taste won't matter.
Will it?
One time.
Just a try,
Just because she has a craving
For something
To preoccupy her mind.
What's the harm in that?
Months later,
Habits are clear.
Ribs show.
Pills spill across the counter.
Cuts etch sorrow into her skin.
Music screams about someone else's problems,
As she tries to forget her own.
She can no longer help herself.
She can no longer stop.
When did 'just one time'
Become every day?
When did 'just wanting to try'
Become a routine part of her life?
Years later,
Problems still haven't stopped.
In fact,
They've only escalated.
Arguments seep through a cracked door,
Louder than ever.
Taunts still echo in her head,
Stronger than ever.
Clothes still don't seem to fit.
Once too tight, now too baggy.
Stress still pounds at the door.
Once too much,
Still too much.
No music is loud enough
To drown out all the shouts.
No drug is strong enough
To take away all the pain.
No pang of hunger is depriving enough
To satiate her dissatisfaction.
No cut is deep enough
To carve out the problems
That envelope her life.
So tangled up in distraction,
So distracted from her problems,
That it was too late.
Her 'just one time' decision
Has become a fixation.
An addiction.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 7:55 AM UTC
Oh god, this is typical me.
To fall in love in the time it takes a red light to turn green. I’m stuck trying to preoccupy my hyperactive mind by betting on which raindrop on the car window wins the race. Then I remember that time we got stuck out in the rain, and the way the water clung to your eyelashes. How your shirt stuck to your chest and refused to let go. It’s ridiculous to be jealous of an inanimate object, but love isn’t always objective.
This isn’t love, it never is with me, this is madness in its purest form. Mutually assured destruction in every way, but even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to escape. I’m falling in love with the simple things. The crooked slope of your nose, the flecks of gold in your whiskey brown eyes. The scar on your forearm, that tells a story I will one day ask for.
It’s just like me, I suppose. I can never leave anything alone.
— We’d Make The Perfect Metaphor | Kayle Marie
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 5:12 PM UTC
Distract me, humble vibration.
Preoccupy this preoccupied mind
Give me a pattern to find
And I will happily rip from reality
Like a shredded letter from an old foe.
Distract me, fleeting words.
Preoccupy this preoccupied mind.
Give me a motive to find
And I will dutifully leaf through your pages
Like flat stones skim the water’s simple strata.
Distract me, passive chi.
Preoccupy this preoccupied me.
Give me a flavour to find
And I will reach for the bottom
Like the proboscis of a bee
Innocent search for mother’s riches.
Dec 28, 2009
Dec 28, 2009 at 3:19 AM UTC
It's not easy speak
or a Speak Easy
when conversing with him,
dark'ling gremlin toothless grin
but he's your friend so I carry on
with Yoda in the corner of my mind
"judgmental you must be not"
and Comicon's collective excitement fading
as the light will do in the west...
We speak easy with the circling
of the communal pipe
crystal peace in mists of glass orbs
oil burner fog horns
piercingly in & between my ears
but its not so easy to ignore
the scent of death in his halitosis
We spoke of Superheroes
their idiosyncratic identities
His secret celebrity crushes
envying Green Lantern’s ring finger
he speculates on Cyclop's orientation,
"Y don’t you make me an X man, professor?"
Informatively encyclopedic volubility,
Mike speaks queerly and toofless
yet well versed on oral
said he rims pacific beach boys
(And I can smell the white lies
wafting from his mouth)
as I color at his studly fairy tales
and his idolatry of prepubescent innocence
the hyper kind of **********
as he verbally recalls the taste of how sweet
the sweet untouched were...
*"The most gorgeous boys I’ve ever seen
in **** or anyplace on the face of the planet
comes from and are probably ******* now
in Europe... Mmm, European boys...
I want to use my life’s savings to go there
enter the war zone and come back wounded..."*
I can't even imagine
Shrapnel jacked backside, points and protrusions
grandiloquent mouths and holes full of
enunciations...
"Fourteen is the age of consent there..." he is smiling
a caricature of a wolf *** fang less
Such a pseudo wanna-be
possibly already
********* friend from the broken rainbow factory,
how I chuckle uncomfortably
shake my head disbelievingly
oh the humorous horror of it...
(I'm grinding my teeth, until I notice myself
doing so and get an image of him
with a gummy grin,
I preoccupy my thinking
nodding as I half-heartedly half listen)
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 12:54 PM UTC
Every morning I'll wake up shaking from the things I lack in life.
So I'll add ***** to my coffee to help forget.
I'll mix my anxiety with more stimulants to help preoccupy my mind.
A million thoughts racing but you make it a million and one.
I don't think about him the way I think about you.
I still remember the way your hands would shake whenever they were placed on my hips and the way you kissed my neck never felt short of feeling unsure.
When the tips of our fingers graze each other, I still remember how hesitant you were to touch a square inch of my flesh.
Your absence left me nervous and that's become my new identity, but even though we've been acquainted before, we became close friends.
Afraid of letting go so we grew together instead.
My hands shake just like yours do and I still add anxiety to my liquid courage and pray that I wake up the next morning hoping to drink my coffee alone and maybe then I can tell you the reason why I am intertwined within his sheets and not yours is because he made me feel like someone wanted me, and that's something you could never do.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 1:49 AM UTC
I preoccupy my mind continually and intrusively
with the way you look at me.
A smile that radiates innocence
can sometimes carry a hidden impulse.
Don't you yearn for my touch?
A nonchalant look can be deceitful
because behind the content
undisclosed desires may be kept.
Playful jokes tend to be masked confessions.
Do you crave my attention?
The smell of smoke could subtly evoke
images of fire; a wish to flare and provoke.
Maybe looking at smoke reminds me of you
because I frequently wonder
why something so hazardous
could look so tempting.
Some sounds could easily make people sin,
let their souls swoon and their bodies rampage.
Certain words could instantly make my head spin.
Tell me, darling, do you ache for my lips?
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 6:18 AM UTC
I want a night with you, alone
no devices or distractions
full attention, nothing to preoccupy our minds,
our hearts entirely focused
just you and me
slow dancing in the dark.
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
Dear sunrise, don’t fail to wake me.
Dear soul, don’t let Heaven take me.
I cannot miss this chance to rise,
To see the sparkle in your eyes.
Dear dreams, don’t preoccupy me.
Dear slumber, don’t lullaby me.
I cannot face this daily trial,
Without the beauty in your smile.
Dear eyesight, don’t fail to return.
Dear nightmares, don’t be my concern.
I cannot feel the Earth’s pleasance,
Without starting in your presence.
Dear morning, don’t fail to arrive.
Dear God, don’t forget I’m alive.
I cannot face this day anew,
Without a day that faces you.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 8:00 AM UTC
I will drown myself
in things to do.
Since I can no longer
drown myself
in you.
Dec 16, 2017
Dec 16, 2017 at 12:27 PM UTC
The stillness amuses me
The stopping of time
A moment of your own-
on your own.
Trapped within the white walls
Of a place for the sick
A place for the sick?
I already died.
I killed myself inside-
A long time ago.
The pretty red liquid flows
Invisible to the eye
I killed myself inside.
Tempted but scared
To pick the last petal
Of the bleeding rose.
So I looked for other flowers
To preoccupy my mind
"Think happy thoughts"
Is what they say
As I greedily and desperately gasped for air
And wished for the numbing sensation to subside.
All I want is an escape
To never think at all
Think of happy thoughts, you say?
The happy thoughts were my downfall.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 12:34 PM UTC
My eyes transmute to dark, forest tones.
(Isn't the forest supposed to be beautiful?)
She's beautiful; nothing at all like me.
I make acrimonious convictions about her, and
Sadly, it provides me so much relief.
I shouldn't preoccupy myself with such maliciousness,
I am desirous of who you are.
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
You were always asking if I was alright
Reply was always " Yes, I'm okay"
But deep down something is wrong
Believe me, my intentions aren't to lie.
Please just leave me out of the limelight
I don't know why, but I can't take on the day
I cannot be strong
This unknown pain beginning to preoccupy.
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 12:29 AM UTC
Don't preoccupy any single thought
With fears of making my heart sink;
Such effort for me would be for naught,
You're more predictable than you think.
Jan 25, 2022
Jan 25, 2022 at 4:55 PM UTC
luminosity had all but weaved its last
expiration, where it kept that which
converged on its illumination as it
receded in distance but never removed
from its enclosing embrace.
For when these lighthouses in the darkness
succumb to the inevitable throws of
consciousness and descended with in
themselves. All was consumed and
expelled in exasperating frustration.
A single lamination was all that what once
was. Its sorrow began to preoccupy all
that was burdened in to the sorrowing
retribution. All fell beneath it, exhumed
from there places into nullity, and tears fell.
So many illuminations once lustful in there
symmetry had now become tears of creations
unweaning. forfeiting there once gleaming
stance, only one was left in a lagoon of nothingness.
Frail and weak watching all dance upon its breath.
It instituted its falling, as a tear of purity fell.
But in its descending it became as onyx and
this juncture was now preordained. Not one
to fall to the whims of others, she just uncoloured
in form and faded into herself becoming no more.
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 6:18 PM UTC
You can preoccupy your mind with every new girl that you touch
keep a list, keep a tab, keep yourself busy
but you know that you're just trying to find me in every one of them.
Go ahead blame it on someone, blame it on me
say that my tummy is too flabby, my thighs are too big
and my elbows are too rough
but see,
those are the very things you look out for in every new person you meet.
And why can't you sleep at night even when she's in your arms
the quiet of your room is an oppressive screaming silence
because my sighs were the only sounds able to put you to sleep.
Friends tell me you don't look at the stars anymore because you've found them in her
you can lie to them and you can lie to yourself
but the truth is, you don't look because you told me that my eyes held the galaxies
and you would forever be lost in mine.
So fill your mouth with different poems and different verses and different words
tell your new addiction how metaphors form from the curve of her lips
but you know it's my spit that rises at the back of your throat because you still long for the taste of my mouth on yours.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 10:06 AM UTC
years ago, when i would climb fully clothed into a dry bathtub to cry, i would think about atoms.
my own, specifically. though whether any of them are still mine, i do not know.
the atoms making my bones, my liver, my lungs, are older than stars.
what were they before me?
that's not the question that scared me. what scared me, scares me still, is if i am made of anyone else. and if they should despise what they had become.
but at the end of history, for it has finally come, it seems silly.
who cares what i am made of?
the world is full of death and fire and shoes with separate toes.
why waste the time to care about the history of my skin?
and while this voice who belongs to nobody makes an excellent point, and i am aware of my ridiculousness as it pours down my face, i cannot shake it.
our minds have not evolved to fit the whole world. i cannot visualise it.
the great, stomping, climate-change godzilla is transient. he phases through the walls of my brain like a ghost, chains scraping along the floor as he goes.
but he finds me, as he leaves me, alone with myself.
and that, i can never run from.
i can cut my hair off with fabric scissors in the middle of the night. i can fill my empty hours with meaningless, instant content i forget as soon as it ends. i can move houses, cities, entire continents. but in blasted spite of every effort, it's still me.
of course i preoccupy myself. it's the one thing from which i shall never escape.
there is no way to trace my body backwards through time. that i know.
i will be myself for the rest of my life. that i also know.
planet earth may not outlive me. makes a trinity of knowledge i have.
so where do i go? stuck inside a body who feels like a stranger, hurtling ever forwards on an increasingly broken world.
i would love someone to come to me, preferably accompanied with a cloud of smoke and ****** of crows, and give me the secret of a life that never feels like static.
but that's only because I'm waiting for a quest that won't come.
no, the solution is far less fantastical, far less the stuff of poetry.
i have to learn to like myself. to know them, trust them, to build a foundation stronger than anything i can break it with.
and though i have already started, i am nowhere near finished. maybe i never will be.
but that is a fear i am letting go of, finger by finger, releasing my grip on.
eventually the wind can sweep it away, and i can forget.
Mar 1, 2021
Mar 1, 2021 at 1:59 PM UTC
I came home to the apartment today,
and was frustrated at everything being so still.
I wasn't used to everything
being exactly where I had left it,
No change having occurred in my absence.
And that was so frustrating,
as it reiterated the fact
that you were no longer here,
but somewhere else,
far away, at least,
far away enough
to where your life circle
did not intermingle in mine,
thus creating my life
to be still and silent.
We hadn't been still
since the moment
we first walked through that door
with only the cat and a box of clothes,
and how warm and exciting that was
for the both of us.
We didn't stop moving,
not until now,
with everything so quiet,
so still, you'd think our
apartment was a museum.
I'm actually not okay,
and I don't know how to tell you that
without you worrying,
because I don't want to cause you stress,
but I'm sinking.
And I don't know if you
can rescue me from
my own waters.
So I sit here
drowning in my own silence
while you pass around the plates
with your family
and I'm in this ******* empty room
and I hate the color of these walls
that suffocate me
until I'm gone.
I'm not okay,
and I don't know how
to tell you.
So I try to preoccupy my mind
with memory of
the cat and the box of clothes..
Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 10:14 PM UTC
The reason I write is to expand upon every aspect
that collects in the drainage point of unchecked
emotions. Its an avenue where I expand all my
sentiments, my thoughts I need to readily preoccupy.
Even though I'd never admit it, sometimes I need
to create words of reflections that have to be freed.
These are the opposite of what I see beyond my pools
of thought coalescing, when writing there are no rules.
We can all hide behind our manifestations, never showing
ourselves. For the reader is always seeking what is unknowing.
I write on blank slates for others to guess what is imagination
and the reality of my syllables all melting in cognitive dictation.
"*I have many reasons to spill my introspections on
every eye to see. For what is a word if not a dawn
in the sunrise of others eyes. I ink the words before there gone*"
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 11:51 AM UTC
I want god
I want clousure
All I've ever wanted was to find my own finality
I need death
I need fate
All my life I've lived for a clear path to take
And what I get
All I can find
Is a million blinking lights to pass the ******* time
Won't someone come around
And put me out of my misery?
Don't you know I've been found?
Again?
Again
There's nothing more to gain
From slogging through this pain
And every single road
Is just the same
All I want is something dry
Somthing for the mind
Got anything that can preoccupy?
Theres nowhere to go
And theres no more direction
I'm getting sick of returing to my home
The time is getting late
And I had best be going
I'm gotten tired, searching for my fate
Has led me to the edge
And walked me right back, back again
Back to the roads
Yeah, and every road still looks just the same
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 4:25 AM UTC
In life there aren’t many things that we could save
Not everything works the way you want them to
not everything last for the period you foresee them to last.
It just happens.
You love someone that you can't
and then they go on and love somebody else
and you mourn as though life is over
and your dog is dead
but then one morning you wake up, fresh and awake
and with a clear head you realize you've felt nothing but numbness.
You just couldn't take the heart ache anymore.
You realize nothing last
and things that doesn't last
doesn't need much of your time anyway.
So you slowly slip away
you slowly let go
and you slowly
treat everyone you've met
a stranger
and every love you gave
an unfounded charity
like something of meaning to the other person
but something you will probably forget
They probably won't remember
what you've done for them
words that were said to them
nights spent thinking about them
and words arranged in ways
to preoccupy their minds
with the rhymes in your sentences
Because in life
when the time to let go comes
you always try to sleep it off.
So now she's gone from the tips of your fingers
You realize she has flown away somewhere
and really there isn't much you can do because
well...
there really isn't much to do
when both your lives are being lived
on separate parallel lanes.
People collide and passion sparked
but what you have
is an accident at an intersection
and for that few blissful moments
you realize that moment
will be eternally yours
even if you look back years later.
She may be gone
and you may live on
on your own path of life
but you will forever remember
that bright sunny day
when you met her
despite all your own baggage
at that beautiful intersection
when you spoke under the rays of the sun
and when the rest was pretty much
the beginning of your end.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 3:49 AM UTC
We're polar opposites.
They flirt with those they're not married to and we strive hard to be modest.
They eat pig and we don't because we know it's filth and because we eat halal.
They talk trash cursing out of their mouths like it's a language of it's own and we talk in ways to avoid having to have soap be put in our mouths.
Women dressed half naked with skin tight clothes on walking around in public as though they're in their own homes, disgraceful and evil as it is and we wear clothing to cover ourselves appropriately in public with the intention that our outer appearance is a reflection of our inner presentation.
They drink alcohol like it's water even to a point that they steal it as I've been a witness to and because of their consumption, they do many unlawful things and we don't even know what alcoholic beverages taste like because it's garbage and the sight of it makes us want to throw up.
They're obsessed with material things and are stingy, in fact, that's what they live for, that's what they exist for, that's why they breath and we try to live a selfless life and preoccupy ourselves with things of a higher purpose like living for God and serving Him and humanity so that we live our earthly life's purpose, so that we're not lost, and so that we earn the ultimate reward.
Sadly, they're a wreck. I hope our example can help them.
Mar 4, 2020
Mar 4, 2020 at 4:03 PM UTC