"preservers" poems
i kept my hatches battened but that
didn't stop your love from barreling toward me
like a runaway freight train with faulty breaks.
and god almighty, did we crash.
you came to a screeching halt at my doorstep
and i didn't know what else to do but let you in.
you looked so cold. we did not start with a spark but a full-on fire.
i told myself i wouldn't fall, instead i jumped.
our sinking frames somehow morphed into life preservers,
and we managed to keep each other's heads above the waves.
we had seemingly saved one another.
you tossed your pills, i flushed my razors, and for a while that was enough.
but we learned the hard way that even the deepest love
can only keep the storm clouds in your mind at bay for so long.
eventually our cracks began to show.
missed calls and silent hours built houses of cards
that were blown down by too many miles.
we hardly ever smiled anymore.
my hands were sieves and yours were sand.
i want to break the hands of the clock
that cursed us with this bad timing.
i have mourned all the hours i won't ever have with you.
i have felt the thunder that rumbles in my lungs
when i reminisce about the memories we'll never make.
the moment i realized i would never wake up beside you
an atom bomb went off in the center of my chest.
but the radiation is what's killing me.
the life is being drained from me here in the wake,
in the ache of your absence. but i won't beg.
i will live out the remainder of my days
tormented by wondering if maybe in another world
our love is perfect and neither of us bleed.
- m.f.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 3:27 AM UTC
Lungs burning with affliction, no prayer can help you realize that you are on fire.
Help me, open my ribcage and read the encryption that is my heart.
This is where my ideas form; this is where the magic happens.
This is where trees become homes when I turn to prose.
This is where love becomes tangible.
Take the helm from my chest cavity and steer me home.
Sew me back up and pretend you didn’t figure out how my mind works from studying my heartbeat.
You can keep my memories there, keep my stanzas there.
But you cannot lock up an idea.
Do you realize that every single time you open your mouth I’m wishing I could have a lobotomy?
I don’t want my brain to miss you when you leave.
I don’t want my heart to miss you when it realizes that it no longer beats in sync with yours.
You can take yourself away from me.
You can make me cry so the salt water stings my face like it’s a burning map.
You can take my poems from my veins and scatter them in the river.
But you cannot lock up an idea.
Oh Captain my captain, I think we are going down.
But everyone is just an arm’s length from drowning.
When life preservers are anchors and every single thing is whispering for you to sink.
The Bermuda triangle is just another place where sailors go to pray and what kind of god ***** you in and tests you with a tempest?
You and I are so much more than child’s play.
Tell me to stay.
Tell me my ideas do not belong on the ocean floor.
Because you cannot lock up an idea.
If the sun shines through your blinds, think of me.
Think of the morning.
But without all your leaving.
Don’t think of the bags packed, of the plane tickets bought.
Of the ferry setting off its horn for you in the middle of the night.
Think of the morning.
Without all your leaving.
With the coffee, with the metaphors that were leaking through the walls as you blinked.
You wanted to keep them for yourself, hold them hostage in your bones.
But you cannot lock up an idea.
So next time you think of leaving, think of taking the ferry across the ocean.
Next time you think of whispering my secrets into the waves that kiss the rocks like they are not hurting anyone, think of me first.
Without the poems.
Before I even started writing.
Remember how I chased butterflies and the sunset.
How I begged you to let me climb up on the roof to watch the sun rise again.
Remember that my ideas are my prayers to a god I have not yet found in the curve of your spine.
Remember that I want nothing more than to not have to miss you.
Remember that every time you dismiss my words, my art, my need to chase the sunset; you are diminishing my creativity.
Remember that you cannot lock up an idea.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 10:18 AM UTC
I can't wreck this boat
I can't crash it into the depths once more
I gotta clean it up
I gotta clear the skies and wasp this deck
Otherwise these sails will forever fall
Otherwise the murky waters will creep aboard
Underestimate the strength of a breeze from the past
Underestimate these old boards, but they can float
everything can fall off it'll come back to the surface
everything can't go back together
NOT this time, no repeats, this boat is no Delorean
NOT in the past everything is right now
again no thanks my friend
again this boat has life preservers hope you can find them
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 10:47 PM UTC
The spirit of invention is a wild one:
it does not fear failure,
it craves adventure,
lives on inspiration,
it is misunderstood,
yet preservers trough the hardest of times...
It accomplishes the impossible and elevates the spirit to new heights...
It has passion for art, creation and perfection...
The spirit of invention lives in us all.
Dare to release it!
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 3:10 PM UTC
I am not only some peaceful stream of the forest,
Twinkling beneath songbirds,
Watering romancing deer.
I am also the river that cuts through the mountain,
That carves the earth to better fit my ease.
The one bears dare not cross.
The cascading ire,
Raptors are unfit to tame,
With any bellow.
Men will come to know the rocky bottom,
And winding parts,
Men will come to know their helmets and life preservers,
Won't be salvation,
When I say that they shall drown.
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 1:15 AM UTC
Another day, riding on emotion
Seldom ever breaks down
but I don't have the potion,
To fuel my being.
Lucky to be alive
but there's something I'm not seeing.
Lapped around similar 'scapes
Falling all the time,
with all the scrapes to prove it.
My body itself is a high-powered vehicle,
just hope I don't lose it,
Prematurely with the things I've been doing.
Sometimes I see surroundings pass by but
it doesn't feel like I'm moving.
Reach out to those that could use it
Lead them away from the mentally abusive.
I'm still there though,
the expression on my face even looks weak.
Guess I just hit bleak patch,
but again I'll maintain a satisfying streak
Innocence never left,
But the breaths are slowing.
Used a bit of what I had left to fill up an inner tube,
My body's too weak to maintain how I'm flowing.
So I drift off, into another realm.
A place where people are underwhelmed
And stay to help each other grow.
This place exists at a point in time, but when,
I may never know.
So I'm taking a vacation from my mind
that constructs an absurd blur,
Keep living for the kids and kisses,
and moments that creates blisses
Love and writing are my life preservers~
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 7:26 PM UTC
Started off small.
The world in our hands.
Four years pass.
Like a camera flash.
Boyfriends, parties, now we're in my car.
Road trips, "I'm glad you're my friend".
You're unique and I'm consistent.
I understand you.
You appreciate me.
Soul-mates.
College, drinking, smoking.
I'm in your house with no one home.
Depression, obsession, times are changing.
You're drowning.
Your eyes are clouding.
I'm on the shoreline watching.
I'm throwing rocks like life preservers.
Waiting for you to catch one.
Blinded.
Undecided.
Sitting in the silence.
Waiting.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 10:57 PM UTC
Pastries of the mind
Float like hollow driftwood,
Indulging the self-serving bind
That makes us think we are good.
It's a feasting born from birth,
"Inter urinas et faeces nascimur,"
They say, "it's the greatest shame we all endure,"
And the ******** sure won't lure with a pure cure.
They expose the submerging life preservers,
The hero of our name: the one that flips the burgers,
Fights the herders; causes, calls, and solves the murders,
All the infiniyy I could ever build and to make Her's.
With a diaper full of bricks
We are given humanity's paradox,
For in the ethereal plane we fully exist
Until the ****** bricks turn us sick.
But it's not so black and white,
Nor is it so yellow and brown.
The human creature can be beautiful
And the mind made delusional.
If we can repress our mind to find meaning,
And we can open up the chakras we're feeling,
But the world is just Black Sludge creeping,
Then why trade Protection for the real thing?
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC
These things belong on a shelf
Like a bottle of tears that looks like a stuffed animal
And a pillow case that became a great transport of rage,
Amidst the dust and clutter
Runs my subconscious animal seeking blood, meat,
Retribution and the slightest gain
Through the wires of the human body
Cut and casually rearranged.
These things are purposed
As notches in a Grecian urn
Cold reminders of a worthwhile mistake
Taken astride and antiqued
For me, for you, betokened at my expense
Because I need to eat, occasionally oddly,
And when the stomach can’t trust the hands
Your clothing stays close to your body.
These things are like dresses on a library,
Dressing the dirt underneath
As life preservers full of water, full of wine
But these are situational traumas
And never lacking their angel wings
Defective and cuckolding self-esteems next to me
Hold hands at the bottom of the ebb and flow
Of human misery or ecstasy,
Just maybe it’ll hurt too much this time,
As revenge for my laughing at its brothers.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 10:47 AM UTC
The Night of the Christmas Bus
Holiday accented all decked out
People observed as it was moving about
Santa was aboard
** ** ** accord
Santa told a Christmas story of the Christmas Bus
The children were aboard being a plus
Children were all sitting in their reclining chairs
They listened carefully with care
The Christmas bus that journeyed to the North Pole
As Santa narrated, the wonder became behold
The bus arrived at Bus Toyland
All kinds of scale buses were there
Each had their own stories to share
All the scale buses were of all kinds
They all unique and genuine
Some had operating lights
Others made engine starting sounds
There were some that were remote controls that were found
The scale buses would capture a child’s delight
However, Santa has a bus story to tell tonight
There was a European bus sitting all alone
No momentum and not full blown
The European scale bus was considered as a misfit because of a weird design
Every bus should be in a child’s hand
This is the Christmas Bus Caravan
The other scale bus models were singing, “We are buses for every Boy and Girl, it will bring them joy to enjoy”
But that didn’t settle for the poor European scale bus
There was no fuss
Misfit is a European Scale bus that sits in a corner
All neglected
But that is about to change
The story relishes with a rearrange
Santa felt bad about the whole ordeal
A child’s heart is warmth being for real
Santa abruptly shouted, “Every bus deserves a chance being part of a child’s heart as the holiday season is about joy and love being the reason
Santa thought to himself, what a wonderful idea, and a misfit European bus no more
The misfit European scale bus was told his, and Santa and the other scale buses saw the Flashing headlights of approval
By the time Santa finished the story, the children had felt a sleep, and dreaming deep of buses to keep
Imagine Christmas morning when the children woke up
There would be cocoa filled in their cup
It’s the midnight hour, Santa is busy with the Elf’s packing all the toy buses for the night ride
Santa said Off Greyhound, Trailways, Coach USA and Academy and into wintry road
We have a schedule and must be on-time
As you know, Santa is genuine
Christmas cheer as Santa preservers
Buses travel during the night to touch a child’s heart
Dash away Dash away
Buses rolled into their getaway
Dec 5, 2022
Dec 5, 2022 at 4:40 PM UTC
This Cynical World has me spinning
From war and hate to the abuse we'll never escape
It almost doesn't seem worth it, going through this day to day
Born in this world of pain only to die again
I need something to believe in or I won't survive, give me a reason for living this senseless life
Fire, earthquake, famine, and flood
Violence between neighbors till the streets run with blood
We build up these empires to watch them fall
I just have one question, what's the point of it all?
I can't take this pressure the stress is making me drown, I won't last much longer the currents pulling me down
Your arms are like preservers, your touch filled with sureness, reach into the waters and pull me above the surface
You try so hard to bring back my innocence
But after a day in this world nothing makes sense
Only in your arms can I find my solace, my reason for existing
And still you plead for me to see not everything in life is so persisting
Tell me why we're put on Earth for such a short time, if we'll die in the end why should we even try?
"Think of it as a milestone in the journey you've led, with death just a pit stop on the long road ahead
Besides who's to know what happens when you're dead?"
"Know I'm here for you morning, noon, or night and together we can create our own slice of paradise
Enjoy the time we have before the sand runs out; don't agonize over this mystery forever shrouded in doubt
The world holds such beauty of the likes we'll never know, if only you'd open your eyes and see the show
You'll realize life is still worth living, even if so many are unforgiving."
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 8:59 PM UTC
Writers are like gods,
While singers are angels;
Writers can be both,
If we fit in both angles;
Writers are creators
And the preservers of history,
Keeping accurate records,
From century to century;
Writers are prophets,
And oracles too,
We speak of the future,
Most of which comes through;
Writers are artists,
We create drawings in words,
And nothing's been more beautiful,
Than our gallery of words;
Writers are warriors
Winning wars with words-
Bullets and machine guns in our letters,
Have ended numerous discords;
Writers can be good lovers,
With strong emotions too,
A heart that is very fragile,
willing to share a love that's true.
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 3:27 PM UTC
I'm not good at falling in love
but I seem to be good at being in it
I kick and I flail when emotions start
to trickle and accumulate
to pile upon one another like clues
toward a conclusion unsatisfactory
because I know where this is heading
I've been head over heels
and *** over elbows
and flat as a board on my back
but each time as I felt it growing
I denied, and I lied, and I wept
See, I understand what it's like
to start a war over the wink of a lady
I know how it feels to share a crush
with those whose happiness
you prioritize above your own
I know how to feel worthless
and I know how to doubt
and I know how to keep my mouth shut
but I know how to love without regrets
and I like to believe that's enough
See, sometimes I feel the need
to browse through old tags on tumblr
and sometimes I stare at my phone
and debate sending a text
and lots of times I remember
that I saved every message I sent you
But that isn't fair.
Because you know love is ever evolving
and there's so many different types
and perhaps never the same love twice
at least I hope not, anyway.
Cause I always seem to throw myself
into chasms overflowing
with deep dark water
and I'm not the best swimmer.
And I love to believe that people
are life preservers
stuck on shore.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
i’ve always preferred rainfall over sunshine.
maybe that’s why i preferred you.
but maybe
when this plane fell from the sky
there were no life preservers or
oxygen masks or second chances.
second chances was another way
to write paradox
second chances were inscribed
on to the back of my throat
like paintings i couldn’t see,
paintings i didn’t see until we
had been drowning for too long.
sketched in my soul were
all of the things i should
have said to you, all of the
things i could never say to you-
i wasn’t decent enough
for a second chance anyways
i’ll wash my hands instead.
this time i’ll use my blood
now,
i hope every time you kiss her
you cough from my poems
caught in your throat
and every time you hear my name
a house fire starts in your lungs and
when it reaches your eyes you
have to pretend you don’t feel the burn
and every time you tell her ‘I love you’
you stutter from
the sound of my voice,
like an eviction notice,
nailed to your door
like the god you once believed in.
you used to plead slurred words saying
i made you okay,
i’d stand there in silence
wondering if one day
you’d notice the thunderstorm
that i really am
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
I call upon all the citizens of this great nation***
Wise as you vote the leaders of your own selection***
Let peace prosper and prevail on this day of election***
I and you are the preservers of this generation***
And the future depends upon our today's actions***
Let peace prosper and prevail on this day of election***
Oh Allah , to you we pray the creator of all creation***
Peace we seek, oh Allah bestow it upon this nation***
Let peace prosper and prevail on this day of election***
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 5:06 PM UTC
Some friends are like life preservers,
They keep you afloat
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 8:40 PM UTC
and so there she stands
your daughter liberty
alone and weak
because you left her unattended
in a sundress and fireman's coat with blood
on her chin and her face contorted
for the cameras to see
stupefied on the edge of the gravel pit
with the confetti ash swirling in her hair
and her eyes filled with animal fear
as her slack body slams against the railing
and a swan song swells in her throat
they use billy clubs to beat back the rats
under the skull of the moon and
the fickle stars like frantic pouncing eagles
the neighborhood dying has scratch marks all over it
diamonds etched in storefront windows
and rollicking clouds of tear gas to make it fun
there's a ****** taking a **** out in the open street
and where's the flag? oh i remember
it's snagged on a parapet five stories up
burning in the ignored sunset between
the silent buildings
we are an enormous pile of sentient garbage
coming up from the rot wearing life preservers
advancing with the picket line tide
blowing flashbang death on flugelhorns
outside the framework of the 2-party system
invented by the mongrels in hollywood
guerrillas moving in troupes thru the city streets
filled with exhilarating hope and
plumes of smoke insurgents chanting
violence is american as apple pie
i keep my tv dark to reflect the flames
of the grocery store outside and my insides
feel ripped up, i've never had a shave this close
squish my denim body against the window like a telescope
to hear the growl from the depths under the city
this is the moment just before something big happens
this is the flashover
this is when the panic begins
there's a man in a tree out in palmdale and
i need the morphine to tell me it isn't my fault
i need my pastor to tell me god doesn't lie
tonight the fuses blew out on an entire continent
tonight i wept
Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 11:38 AM UTC
i kept my hatches battened but that
didn't stop your love from barreling toward me
like a runaway freight train with faulty breaks.
and god almighty, did we crash.
you came to a screeching halt at my doorstep
and i didn't know what else to do but let you in.
you looked so cold. we did not start with a spark but a full-on fire.
i told myself i wouldn't fall, instead i jumped.
our sinking frames somehow morphed into life preservers,
and we managed to keep each other's heads above the waves.
we had seemingly saved one another.
you tossed your pills, i flushed my razors, and for a while that was enough.
but we learned the hard way that even the deepest love
can only keep the storm clouds in your mind at bay for so long.
eventually our cracks began to show.
missed calls and silent hours built houses of cards
that were blown down by too many miles.
we hardly ever smiled anymore.
my hands were sieves and yours were sand.
i want to break the hands of the clock
that cursed us with this bad timing.
i have mourned all the hours i won't ever have with you.
i have felt the thunder that rumbles in my lungs
when i reminisce about the memories we'll never make.
the moment i realized i would never wake up beside you
an atom bomb went off in the center of my chest.
but the radiation is what's killing me.
the life is being drained from me here in the wake,
in the ache of your absence. but i won't beg.
i will live out the remainder of my days
tormented by wondering if maybe in another world
our love is perfect and neither of us bleed.
t.m
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 7:48 PM UTC
Mother Earth, our home planet,
Gave us land to sow and oceans to explore,
But what have we given her, except pain and torture?
Oh, the very horror
There were times when and where we all were one,
Nothing could shake our foundation, not even the sun
But time did cast error after error,
And from the preservers, we became the terror
Wars were waged, forests were eradicated,
Instead of creating change, all we have done is waited
Species are becoming extinct, natural disasters are striking one after another,
Humans have become so self-obsessed, they have forgotten their duties and their own creators, their beloved mothers
So let's forget our differences and let go of the past,
For if we truly want to protect our future, we must act NOW and try to last!
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 2:36 AM UTC
The origins of life, an absolute mystery.
Where and why?
All set and carved with ambition.
We could be messengers, preservers
but we are connected to conflict and destruction.
It is so enchanting to act like gods,
a staggeringly ambitious vision.
So many things could be so wrong,
so many unknowns.
What was it all for?
Knowledge?
Power?
Or just to show what was possible?
Ambtion, stubborness
nothing changed.
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 9:00 PM UTC
WOMEN
Women live by heart
Men by head,
Former is ever alive
The latter is emotionally dead.
Heart represents love
So women feel more deserted
Head is crafty
So men are less broken hearted.
Men are extroverts
Always look out for pleasures,
Women are introverts
Staying in is their nature.
The former is bumble bee
Never is contented with one,
The latter is honey bee
Collects for the she loves one.
Women are for what they have
Men look for more and more,
They squander for pleasures
Women take care of the store.
Men are like South Pole
They are haughty and aggressive,
Women are North Pole
Humility makes them submissive.
This variance makes
The former very intolerant,
The latter bears the brunt
As she is by nature very tolerant.
Men are too spendthrift
Are fond of too much flirting,
Women are preservers
As she is fond of saving and saving.
But these differences
Are in tune with Mother Nature
Positive mixed with negative
Produces the newest manpower.
Apr 23, 2020
Apr 23, 2020 at 10:14 AM UTC
Love is an ocean of yes's waiting to swim in.
Life preservers unnecessary
as a hearts float even in rough waves.
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 9:28 PM UTC