"presentations" poems
Selfies,
I can smell the desperation,
from here.
odors of worry;
rippling anxities of uncertainity.
two dimensional,
instantaneous impressions,
pixelated presentations,
and
Teenage frustrations.
up tilted camera.
held against the light,
Illuminating eyes ,
and eradicating spots.
that looks like a good one.
Vicarious representation;
of how good
one could look,
fallible and hopeful.
big bosomed dame
showcasing blessed cleavage,
pulsating the adolescent
bulges.
delivered to
metal passenger,
thereafter shown
among peers.
networked to unknown.
Friends who'd never
met eye,
or
touched skin,
or
even spoke.
self conscious
cropping of images.
fat and fearful.
wasted hours,
dying for love.
False dream of
captivating the messes with her selfie.
The very ugliness
of impressions.
Oh, how shallow we've became.
The denial
of the impact of aesthetics.
laughable,
torrents of judgement
Skinny,
fat,
ugly,
behold their desperate eyes behind the selfie.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
Most days, you're not a woman developer,
you're a developer.
You work just as hard,
You (try to) talk just as fast
You keep your feelings under the surface (barely)
Actually, scratch that
You're always a woman developer.
you're just so used to internalizing these habits
Trying to have confidence in your skills
despite the impostor syndrome pulling you down each time slowly, like quicksand
Trying to make up for the confidence you never had
compared to someone who always had it all
Trying to not cry in the kitchen because god who
is allowed to have feelings
Trying not to talk about men who made you uncomfortable because oh my god
for the fact that people call women overreacting
most men seem to make every little statement about them, have you noticed?
oh wow, isn't this just reverse sexism?
oh wow, can I even talk to women?
Being so vocal about being queer and Indian but if you make
one noise
one sound
one phrase
about your experience as a woman
because in such welcoming company you subconsciously thought why not
You let down your guard
But
There goes the shattered glass as the topic of gender-based discrimination is finally broached
There goes the thing nobody ever talks about
There starts the debate you did not want to participate in
"Oh wow you're so harsh to these guys"
"We were just slamming what they were doing, you slammed their actual personality wow"
"I just said they sounded like a brogrammer"
"sure if you say so"
"Isn't that just an arbitrary description"
How do you explain
How do you describe every nuanced experience about
Every male in your life
who have been exactly like this to you
How do you explain the light discrimination
The harsh discrimination
The systemic problem as a whole
How can you condense all this into a workplace environment talk
Where you don't usually talk about this?
Where you don't know if you can actually talk about this
Where you know that you ultimately don't want to talk about this
cuz how can you explain these feelings that they can never understand
You shut up and move on with coding.
But inside, you're conflicted with ideas of presentations to express the fact, or never speak about this again
Because in the end,
You're just a developer, not a woman developer to them.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 10:42 AM UTC
Is it really this hard
to find people I can go back and forth in discussion with
about Buddhist and Hindu theology compared and contrasted against Christian and Yoruba
I want to scream and shout and dance with somebody over Janet Jackson's new album
and at the same time
feel the heat and talk with somebody about how extremely sad and depressing
but oh so good Giovanni's Room was
I want to be able to speak with somebody whom can quote Malcolm X and Kafka in the same breath
Somebody who could see the logic of Pac and Immortal Technique on the same piece
with the Budos Band or Mulatu on the back track
I want to know people whom know
just exactly who
Suki Lee and Bayard Rustin are
can we talk about Jacob Kinohoor's ***
at least for a moment
then get into some B.B. King or Johnny Cash
have you seen Dune
the one from the eighties
James McAvoy shirtless
as well as John Goodman’s acting
were only good things about the other
if you read it
even better
what about the ***** that sat by the door
Or
killer clowns from outer space
let's be shady and point out all the inaccuracies on the history and discovery and channels
praying for that day
that's not in February
They show Shaka Zulu in full
without commercial interruption
Or maybe a documentary about native American people
with actual native actors
that do not depict them all as either
plains people
Or Inuit
Cause you already know
not everybody is Eskimo
then let's put on our own private production of legally blonde
followed by encore presentations of the classic scene
Of Miss Celie and miss Ofelia going in over Harpo
can I discuss with you
how the Patriot act nullifies everything in constitution
And the bill of rights
even though they never were intended to be permanent any way
It would be nice to not have to explain a Corporatocracy
all my life Ive been into Egyptology
You do know that Imhotep was the actual founder of medicine
by a good 2000 years
not that Hippocrat
the thing is
I'm still learning
when attempt to delve that deeply into people
which I don't even consider that deep
They often misunderstand
They often concluded without thinking
maybe
just maybe
©Christopher F. Brown 2015
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
Aware the day was approaching, Little tugs reminding how Quickly time passes. And the knocks on the doors of his heart, opening ---One at a Time ! ! To reveal memories in Full Color of each eventful day, Clearly showing "ALL the Extra joys that encircled him, but never took the opportunity to be a Full Participant ! ! *ANNIVERSARY DAY *was presented , as if on a Silver Platter. Engraved with "All those things *Missed because of Prior committals . A stack of Priority signs, which offered choices and options, he " F A I L E D " to turn over and read the instructions. That, simply said "Choose carefully, because as time goes by,. You may overlook the options. AND, as more time goes by, Routines and Habits begin to replace the Presentations from the Silver Platter. MAN'S WEAKNESS, was the next sign offered up to him, NOT the weakness of knees, but thinking that empathy was understood, the reality was not the extending of empathy, but rather, to be a Part of that which is "GOING ON NOW" or that which was "GOING ON THEN ! ! ANNIVERSARY, carries with it the meaning of Commemoration. Which is a "CELEBRATION of our MEMORIES **. BUT, by leaving out a sharing of this event, it Dampens. This "Celebration" should be Shared , in a Loving, devoted, caring, joyful, HEARTS Goal as "ONE". On this Anniversary,,he Thanks GOD for lighting the pathways of understanding. This Anniversary he "Celebrates" with her with a humbled, clearer appreciation, and with a "REFRESHING LOVE". As he writes this on the Tablets of his heart, "SHE" is his " ANNIVERSARY " .
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 7:46 AM UTC
practicing freedom is allowing yourself to notice the beauty in each and every day
practicing freedom is knowing that saying nothing or everything is perfectly okay
practicing freedom is loving your skin in whatever color it comes in
practicing freedom is wholeheartedly empowering both women and men
practicing freedom is fighting for those who are oppressed
practicing freedom is knowing even boys can wear a dress
practicing freedom is breaking free of societal expectation
practicing freedom is respecting those who live outside of normal presentations
practicing freedom is declaring truth over lies
practicing freedom is learning to leave fear behind
practicing freedom is prioritizing people over money
practicing freedom is realizing that human life is endlessly more valuable than the ******* economy
practicing freedom is believing you are enough
every background, ethnicity, and gender is deserving of love
practicing freedom is striving for unity
practicing freedom is recognizing the division that's destroying you and me
practicing freedom is acknowledging your dreams
practicing freedom is keeping hope alive despite all things
the practice of freedom.
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 3:46 PM UTC
Pay your quarters
pay your dimes
you're paying for laundromat time
slowly spinning
forgotten
by
Einstein's Theory of Relativity.
Minutes become hours
and
there are still too many hours to go.
Any math class
intense gas
organized religion
waiting for the tow truck,
the bus
in
the pouring frozen rain.
Sitting in the E.R.
with a cut finger
waiting waiting waiting.
Sitting in the hospital room
with an elderly distant relative
you hardly know,
their funeral too.
At the grandparents house
with endless repeats of Judge Judy
on the t.v.
t.v. droning monotoning on and on and on.
Any work day
perpetually two thirty or three,
in meetings with presentations
with more presentations to go,
you're trying to be productive,
but all you know
is
laundromat time
slowly spinning.
Any night of insomnia,
betrayals endless loops,
anxiety rolling through,
following you from one cigarette to another
three o'clock
four o'clock
four-twenty.
Home movies of endless barbeques
I know meaningful to you.
Pictures of people's
cats and dogs
a hundred more to go.
Eight and a half months pregnant,
kiddie soccer on a Sunday morning at 7:30,
the middle school brass band
Friday night at nine,
yes, that's me
passed out and snoring,
laundromat time
a warm blanket
has
put me under.
Anybody else's endless fascinations
say
pictures of weather,
laundromat time sets in
as the
eye lids flutter
narcolepsy sets in with all of this clutter.
So the next time
you're standing in line
and the woman in front is telling
the clerk
every detail you never wanted to know
you'll think about these poor lines
and remember
you're spinning in laundromat time
forgotten by Einstein.
In fact these poor lines
must be feeling that way too
I am going to do you a favor
and
get back to you later.
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 10:54 AM UTC
Click…
Click…
CLICK…
Earsplitting silence surrounds me
As I waste time envisioning a new setting,
Where my paper, pen, mug, and coffee are still there,
But the paper is bursting with passion,
And the magic of espresso beans enable the pen to float along my rapid thoughts.
Right now it is used to stimulate the monotony.
Unfortunately,
Money cannot be bled from words on paper and,
Beers are not bought with dedications in hard cover.
Click…
Click…
CLICK…
Yogurt wrappers opening, spoons being slurped.
***** expanding atop their encompassing chairs.
These are the thoughts that fill my head,
As co-workers plan the next birthday party,
The next lunch, client dinner, and snack.
It seems that bars do not enclose me at my desk,
There is no guard at the door and,
Above me the exit sign gives warmth.
Click….
Click…
CLICK…
Not today, today is not a good day.
There are presentations, Power Points, data to analyze.
Analyze feels like a ***** word in my world,
It covers my neurons and destroys imagination,
Synopsis seize to fire.
It seeps into my blood until I become a replica,
But it is the word that takes my balance off negative,
And applies charming labels to my purse,
I wonder if this is how it starts out for everyone,
Humans are adjustable, no batteries allowed.
Click…
Click…
CLICK.
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 4:32 PM UTC
Waking among the concrete structures
Starting the day running around in earnest
For chores are plenty and time is handful
To begin a new one-hundred-meter-dash
Trying to outdo each other, in an imaginary race
Every stride we take, the concrete takes away our zeal
There is no cushion for the hectic lifestyle
Taking a toll on our mind and body
We seem to have reached somewhere
But end up at the same station, to catch the train
Inadvertently, packing every coach
Few faces we know from our daily commute
Lots of new faces add up to the crowd
We are an individual, but interspersed in the crowd
Waiting to get-off at the daily destination
The concrete pavements and the concrete buildings
Greets us gloomily, although modern architecture
Facades of glass reflecting off the chaos of life outside
Immediately, we are in a grind of the job
Lost in numerous presentations and graphical projections
The pie charts take the sweetness out of our life
Savoring only percentages, with sprinkling of peppery talks
Targets are set and client’s meet are arranged
To strike out a deal and sign-off the nuptials
It’s a marriage of client and service providers
Where brands are hogging the limelight
For us it’s the race to maintain our saneness
As it’s a daily commute through the concrete jungle
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 2:00 PM UTC
This is a poem I am writing for all of the clouds out there who drift lazily through the sky on the dream of short-lived lives.
For the dogs who run around having no long term goals or dreams.
How I envy all of the simple existences that I see around me constantly.
When you are a person in today's modern society, it seems as if it is inevitable to lead a troublesome life, what with things like Facebook, Photography, and Freedom.
So what does this contradictory word complexity even symbolize in the miracle of the English language?
Complexity is the person who you love, and all of the feelings and thoughts that they provoke.
It is the red door, that stands for so much more, in that book that your English teacher tried to explain.
Complexity is the idea that by virtue of being accustomed to modern life, we have the determination to overlook the simple things in life...but that is kind of complicated.
Once we all learn our own primary language, the mind naturally expands to things like thoughts, feelings, ideas, hopes, desires, and all of these are accented by feelings.
So what is simplicity?
Simplicity is the formation of birds that are migrating south.
It is the sound of grass in the wind, the taste of water after a hot day.
As complex beings, we naturally strive to find simple things, because after a while, the complex thoughts expire.
But people love being complicated, so much that they try to find intricate patterns in the simplest things; even in death.
Although most people have the intellectual capacity to think complicated thoughts, that should not prevent them from loving the simple things in life.
What is lucky about our flexible minds is that we are allowed to decide what is simple and what is complex.
For example, a spider's web. It is a beautiful creation made of silky, withstanding string that latches on to any small piece of matter it can find. The web is the spiders shelter, it helps it to sustain life and to put bread on the table, or dead bugs as the case may be.
On the other hand, a spider's web is its home. The spider has one simple purpose in life, to survive off of the web. An existence with one goal, objective, and dream, to create a web is simple in a most beautiful way.
Being allowed to make anything in life, including life itself, as simple or as complicated as we like is without a doubt one of the most amazing powers we possess as human beings.
When encountered with presentations of pure beauty, I have begun to try to keep them simple in my mind, for the sake of trying to embrace the beauty for what it is, be it a colorful sunset, an undefined relationship, or the red door that doesn't stand for anything more.
So next time you go to think about something and make it your own, think before you think.
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 10:16 PM UTC
Jumping, bouncing and swinging from tree to tree
In a sparse forest just outside a village on the outskirts of Antananarivo
They adapt to the changes flung at them and strive to survive
On the ground a troop leaps sideways side by side in a straight line
What a comical spectacle
However solemn their purpose, they must find a home
The little one abaft of the line
Takes one last glimpse at the home he leaves behind
Oh it’s up in flames now and bulldozers knock down his trees
Beyond, just yonder
Over a hill further down south, the prospect is in sight
A new forest with new opportunities
It’s denser; it hasn't caught the eye of encroaching villagers
They forge on towards it in that spectacular procession
High up in the trees they mark their territory
Males call out to females and they howl in response
The young ones frolic in the underbrush
They mate, they eat, they thrive
Another forced migration
There they go again in that sideways march
More deforestation for infrastructure
There must be leeway for civilization one way or the other
One must wonder now
What future lies in store for these that have no place in government?
Their trails fade away from the Malagasy ecosystem
Their lives hang in a balance at the brink of extinction
Will our grandchildren ever get to appreciate
The extraordinary feats of agility they display
The gymnastics they perform from day to day
On the trees and on the ground in the jungle everyday
Ostentations of dramatic optical presentations
In their furry coats of monochromatic patterns
Perhaps they will disappear and my son’s sons may only get to
Read about them in the has been list of the annals of history
At this rate since erecting urban jungles
Of tar roads and skyscrapers is the order of the day
They might even be able to catch an obscure image of the lemur
In the form of a costumed trapezist mimicking one
Or a twisting contortionist in The Cirque Du Soleil
Nellie Nkosi
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 9:21 AM UTC
I have been witness to many things
You must fear not what cold winter brings
You are young, but the reason this bird sings
To you, sapling, this bird clings
Let go of your evergreen hesitations
Your leaves will fall in wondrous presentations
Followed by gazes of beautiful validation
Your stems a sign of majestic acclimatization
While your trunk grows larger and far more in tune
Your leaves will broaden to as large as the moon
To each passing insect and all birds here soon
Your pits to catch water as a natural spoon
You see, young sapling, you are a delight
Do not see winter as a source for fright
Each tree in this forest has seen the same plight
But all have continued their journey for light
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 5:00 PM UTC
You slip into the familiar seat,
You grab the clicker from next to the coffee
On the table covered with cup-stains;
You click “ON” to hear a familiar beat:
“Amber is the color of your energy...”
And click an arrow without waiting for the rest of the refrain.
The image switches to a wolf pack
Stalking some deer as daylight fades
With a British voice to narrate saying:
“They come out at night and sleep at daybreak...”
And that's all you hear of that, afraid
Any more of this junk and your mind will be fraying.
The next scene seems to be a replay,
Some golf that you remember from yesterday...
But then comes a ring for a delivery,
So you grab your cash, cuz pizza ain't free.
And by the time you come back, everything's changed,
That is, on the screen; nothing else is rearranged.
It's an ad for a show on a different channel:
The Peanuts Christmas episode plays Sunday night,
And as the video returns to the commentary panel,
You think, “'Twas just summer, these people aren't bright!”
You settle down again, cram some pizza in your mouth,
And push the button for “Next” while picking some dough off your tooth.
“Pertaining to the subject of substance abuse in teens,
Studies have shown...” drones a voice so boring and wrinkly
It does not seem to fit the handsome man.
And even as you imagine him in a Speed-O or tight jeans,
You flip onto what's next, wishing HBO were free,
And think that a movie might have to be your plan.
It's Friday night, and this is what it comes to:
High heels off, watching TV in pajamas, what you call lingerie
That seems more like something your grandma might wear.
The pencil skirts and presentations, the micromanaging boss of two,
The pathetic day fades into bliss, victory after the business fray,
Sweet victory, channel surfing without a care.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 8:55 PM UTC
I'm so angry.
I really am.
You are college students.
You think you could tastefully
Complete a project on eating disorders.
I very well know that
Demi Lavato is a beautiful woman.
Is that honestly all you can say?
How could you possibly romanticize this issue.
My throat burns because of the acid.
My teeth are ****
I brush them three to five times a day.
I lock myself in the guest bathroom in the building
So that I can ***** in private.
I can eat a whole loaf of bread in three minutes.
When I was in high school
My mother tried to force me to eat breakfast.
So I filled multiple gallon bags
Of cereal and rotting bagels and toast.
I don't eat meals with people.
I bring a take out container to my dorm
Once a day
Stuffed to the limit with food.
And I eat it in ten minutes.
And then I *****
And sometimes I cut
And sometimes I sleep
But I don't even cry over it.
I itch my legs at family meals
Because taking another bite seems unbearable.
It's not something I care to discus.
To tell me that men can't have eating disorders
And that women are the only important ones.
I am a woman
But that makes me feel even sicker than my ED.
Ana and Mia are pansexual.
They don't care who you are
And they don't care if you hate them.
They will become your best friend
And they will stalk you
And destroy you
And they don't give two *****
If you're asian, white, male, or 300 pounds.
It's still a big deal.
I don't care if you have a BMI of 0 or 100.
It's still important.
It's still a big deal.
And you're offensive.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
I like my days melancholy.
But beautifully so.
When the sky is grey,
with the few solitary raindrops.
I stand at the sink, in the fading sunlight,
washing my two navy dresses.
A soft old jazz piece plays on the radio,
I turn the fabric over in my hands.
Scrubbing between buttons and seams,
washing the remnants of church services,
a job interview, presentations
down the rusting drain.
I dunk a lace collar into the water
it comes up dark, black, heavy
as though someone has dipped it in tar.
It's delicacy is gone,
but it's spaces seemingly filled.
I stretch it across my palm,
black against alabaster.
The emptiness is here, today,
as it is in all days,
but for a few moments,
it feels filled.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
doopth..doopth..doopth..
the intonation of a gavel
upon a felted block
order, orrrder,
i now call to order this
washday gathering
of the
metaphysical
analytical
socks
drawer # 1793
all rise and come to toetip
for the grand entry of
the great thrice darned heel
kazoos squeak the intro
to the ode to joy
an old grey golf sock is
ushered in to sit slouched
on the top of the washer/dryer.
he observes the following proceedings.
now to business
the agenda for the day
1. groove and the toe socks
table their report on the
systematic eradication of toejam.
2.the tradditionalists continue
the open discussion on,
wool versus synthetic,
for winterwear.
3.we have a vote scheduled
on the referedum matter:
do we allow sandals and thongs
guest status in this drawer.
4.the metaphysicists update
us on the age old conundrum;
"where do the odd socks go?"
at present they are devling
into the posibilities of
superposition of states,
as presented by
the schrodinger's cat theory.
5. the analytical group are meanwhile, surveying the remaining
evenless socks;
to obtain data on the pairless state of being
6. and finally, we welcome a deposition from the natralists;
with regard to use of bamboo
and hemp to allow for the wicking
of footwater, for a longer lasting
freshness of the base arch construction.
please feel free to attend one or
more of these discussions, contributions and /or questions
will be taken after the presentations.
i am also asked to inform you, that
the metatarsals group has a table of goods for sale, at the leftside of the wash basket.
items include:
new elastics and darning equipment.
books on special this meet are;
the ever popular
"how not to become a sock puppet"
and the tragic
"my life as a duster"
then there is the new offering of
"sox and jox:
the art of underwear
diplomacy."
and one last item of note:
a reminder that membership fees,
(of one clean toe clipping) are due
before next months gathering
go now,
enjoy the gathering.
and may the foot be with you
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 3:39 AM UTC
Surmounting expectations create competition with me and my companions.
People now bumping into each other from exponential expansion.
Existential Conundrum.
It happens.
You have to get a job, be better than everyone else.
You gotta get rich, but donate and be "selfless". Be an entrepreneur with millions that saves dolphins, bungee off the Eiffel Tower with the Prime Minister of Ireland.
Can't help but feel like we were born in a sandbox with too much expected from us, with such little, never promised rewards.
Cardboard presentations with glitter and glue, high scores on the whiteboard.
"Mom, please... I'm bored."
A Mr. or Mrs. Perfect, immune to hangovers and pressure, while keeping a 4.0 who must always be "in the moment", in full control.
Yeah, right. Maybe with a rich football coach who lets you smoke and dope if you run a ball and don't choke... Pray you don't grow old and dash his championship goal.
So when I feel my life is diminutive, worthless with no conviction, I just tell myself that I helped people I never remembered or knew. Nobody really has a clue with all this media, race and religion. Whether you think it's science, fact, or fiction, It's just a temporary illusion of your imagination.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 10:41 PM UTC
In my thoughts today
You blaze like fire
I don't care what people say
But you are a live wire
Tempest on your moves
Others become jealous
Cautious with your hooves
Not so careless
Breath taking masculine
Vibes high motion
You mean absolute discipline
Following your notion
Eye for an eye contact
You want prompt at work
Employees know their content
Open with any talk
Always in formal attire
Presentations, meetings all day
Haunting me as his personal desire
I think am gonna die today...
©sim
Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 4:36 AM UTC
Rudimentary trifling in creativity
Boiled down, frothy lines
Stumbled, broken relations.
Too much, too open,
Yet nothing is hidden between.
It’s not about the words
Stalky presentations mask what is meant
Overthought, underappreciated.
Expecting the praise, knowing the torment
Embarrassment.
I want the spaces.
**** the lines.
A blank page says more than a thousand full.
No thoughts, shot spark
Tired form, ugly flow.
She has no shame,
Takes no judgment
Jealous gawk,
Rooted fears,
Expression is the enemy
Lack of substance drives the ghost.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 3:12 AM UTC
His observant mind held
Strands of coded bonds
Fond of expressions for
Incisive presentations
Of what could be foretold.
He metastasized thought
And tempted his youth,
unraveling behavior
favoring adult endeavors
And here I permit my fist
Beneath my chin in complacency
Statuesque, pondering whether
My decisions are remnants of bloodlines,
Coupled complexes attractive to be subtractive
To my true desires
Whether his dismays maybe in part
To inquiries of adolescent angst
The repetitive cycle remains with
Finding one’s embodiment of identity
Feb 28, 2010
Feb 28, 2010 at 5:54 AM UTC
i lay down my
vanities
like
oranges
at the altar.
i pour out my
pride like water
from the Krishna-
sodden ribbon of faith
runs around and over and
through your hands
and i lay down my
face on your lap
and i lay down my face
on your map of the world
and the oceans whisper under my ear
and the future
is a boxer inside of your chest
throwing fist-
bom, bom
after fist-
bom bom
at the shadows on the wall.
and i lay my faces down
all five of them-
six of them.
and i lay them down to
be eaten by the dogs.
while they chew merry on my
presentations, my false introductions.
i look to the night sky of your face
and it looks like it may rain.
sorrow rain. snowflake fractals falling on my
cheek-
great rivers of regret and sorrow
and restraint.
i look up
Rigel Kentaurus
is shining from somewhere deep inside.
and i find you, and i find my way
around the black hole
inside you and i move swift around the comet that is me.
fire, fire, pieces of planets and fire
fiercely forcing it's way through the universes until
i finally hit
a force stronger than i.
i shed my clothes.
as naked is the eyes that see me, true.
i shed my pride.
as forgiving is the soul that nurtures.
i wear your adoration like cherry blossoms blooming
i wear your eyes, i take them from you
to see me,
to see me
and i do not disappoint. i am naked and beautiful and modest
just as you said i would be.
beautiful vessel
the Gods choose well,
so i lay my silks and finery at your feet.
blossoms in the sacrificial bowl.
let me lay, just a little longer,
on your lap that is the world
let me lay here
while your hand of the softest gossimer fingertips
rides the bumps in my spine.
let me find myself in your lush silence
and in this divine be forgiven-
oh! That I find myself forgiven.
sahn
1/19/2015
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 11:45 PM UTC
In our subset of society we
worship sweet caramel syrup and
double tall soy lattes with extra foam
and extra shots of whatever
can keep us pumping through
marathon long meetings
where we meddle
in our market’s perception
of health savings accounts,
a muddle of mindless
power point presentations
and persistent pencil tapping
on a cold granite table top.
We cannot blame the
young baristas with tattooed
arms and early morning
smiles for simply slipping
us the goods- we must blame
the comfortable coffee pushing
peddlers with heavy pockets,
the evil executives
who sit in their soft leather
armchairs and export
expensive beans from South America.
They empty our leather wallets
but fill our bladders;
offer less calories for
a slightly heavier price-
only $4.15 for a Grande
Caramel Frapuccino Light,
so many in our stomach
that we undoubtedly
will email ourselves into a
caffeine induced coma.
If we could see the constant account
debiting that swarms cyberspace-
millions of dollars transferring
between molecules-
we would drown in
the onslaught of dollar bills into
the hungry
Starbucks black hole that is
never full.
Mar 31, 2010
Mar 31, 2010 at 12:27 PM UTC
November is a month
i dread, all the marking...
all the words ..... ideas
clutter up in my head....
all the hopes and ambitions
weigh heavily on my back.
the first day, my birthday
hip hip hooray!!!
then a rushing, pell mell
downward track
of red pens and meetings
going on and on and on
planning, prepping, late night stressing
then, when not at work,
not shirking, just not working
hoping to give the brain a rest
am bombarded...
like i am ******** in cheer
...continual messages of
christmas is near....
coffee and carols,
shopping and angels
harking, harking,
joy to the world, fa al lalala...
Santa queues
truly not an Ebeneezer
but Christmas teasers
in November make me grey
around the gills
fish out of water
lamb to the slaughter
and running on empty,
always empty,
just want one day...
when the world
would stop hassling
and just go away
no end of year parties...
prentending to be hale and hearty
with all sorts of colleagues
and academic smarties
no presentations of budgets..
thinner than last
no we could not fast
this area, to be on line
no it's alright, it will be just fine
while sculling copious amounts
of cheap, cheap, nasty red wine.
no hangover from said feast...
no, you be the one to corner the beast.
no more standing with mothers and others
watching children in a god awful christmas play
and clapping and chatting while little bettsy
recieves an award for knitting a sleeve
and george gets one for adding fourhundred and forty
please, please show me the door.....
not to mention hayfever,
daylight savings and more
but all this seems trivial...
when I consider
the blight of my life...
in the stakes of annuity.
the month of November has a great heart
Movember...a charity of moustache art
has an fanatic in my big, bluff,bloke
for a month he curries and cares for the
caterpillar that grows on his lip...
a fuzzy flecked monstrosity
with the mange and a weird flip.
November a month of avoiding
the succour of contact....
with that thing,
my toes curl now
thinking of it....
tho I try not to react
(after all charity begins at home)
november november
truly you are the ***
last year he bought
the ****** thing a comb
yet in the end
you are but a month
and it seems I survive you
year after year
thank god for take away meals
and long cold beers....
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC
go ahead and say it.
unsure, like slowly breaking
daylight, realization
sneaks in around
the corners, here, i sit, still;
blind and idiotic and
so **** unsure.
moving in slow frames, bystanding certainties' presentations,
maybe i need this.
maybe i need you more than anything.
but,
how
could
you ever need me, darling?
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 5:08 AM UTC
10 is the number of years it took for me to see the truth
The truth behind Disney princesses and frog kisses
The second star to the right was pushed to the back of the mind
I did not carry on till morning but to reality.
9 is the number of times per day I thought I was not pretty
That no one could love me because of the marks only I could see
I could not keep up with the Disney princesses
Because I never looked good in any dresses
And then I started to change
8 is the number of times I thought about starvation
To fit the supposed transfiguration I needed to be
7 is the number of presentations it took
For me to feel that I wasn’t ugly
6 is the number of seconds it took for me to forget
That I could get away from the thought of skinny
5 is the number of time I chanted each minute
That I could be more than anyone said
4 is how many months I worked to be me
3 is the number of words that it takes
To gain confidence
2 is the number of hours I could chant those words
1 does not need to be said
Because you are beautiful
Do not forget the wonder you hold
The greatness you can achieve
Do not bend to change to look like the Disney princesses
You will always able to get those frog kisses
If you be yourself
You are beautiful
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC
This is for you
You nearly destroyed me
With frostbitten
Prowling fingertips
And never ending tongue
I will not be the map
Nor Constellation of your
Permissible presentations
Or improvised gender constraints
You do not know me
For I am all the possibilities
That are, that have gone before
That are yet to come
I am a trillion blazing suns gently burning
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 2:14 PM UTC