"pressurized" poems
I'm just a simple person, just like the rest
Well, not entirely simple, but nonetheless
It's like society and the media just say what they want
To create new forms of discriminations, that will forever haunt
As if the already existing ones weren't bad enough
They must make sure that you feel flawed,
and make your life tough
I'm just another person; I removed the word simple
People nowadays even get trashed for having a dimple
"HA, it's just a deformity on your face!"
Well, I hope you trip and fall on your own shoelace :)
I'm just another person, with a not-so-great vision
I need glasses, so that I don't squint at the television
It makes my life easier, but the media has made it tough
Their influences and the consequential societal mentality,
has made my childhood rough
Beauty is said to be in the eyes of the beholder
Yet friendship is considered beauty,
when it gives you a shoulder
To cry on, is what I meant
Not literally
I mean it could
Just didn't want to be misunderstood
Why are glasses objectified,
like in The Princess Diaries
Is it not considered dignified
to not want your eyes to get all fiery?
Trust me, I'm just another person;
who needs the help of glasses
Media's interpretation has ruined this too,
to profit their theatrical farces
This is not an appraisal piece
for the object that makes us see well
This is a shoutout to those,
who feel pressurized by this societal shell
To define beauty may be complex,
but it should not be controlled by someone's interest
You're beautiful the way you are,
to have you the world is truly blessed
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 9:46 AM UTC
just as the braces of an adolescent teen bend and mold through force and binding
as does your love for me
Apr 7, 2022
Apr 7, 2022 at 10:40 PM UTC
They have pressurized girls into feeling beautiful always.
"Chin up, makeup on, be poised and smile your best even on the bad days."
In a world where being pretty is all there is.
Dare to be different, dare to take that risk.
Be more than merely beautiful.
Be kind, be compassionate, be helpful, and respectful.
Be sensitive, be brave, be shy, be tough.
Don't think that just being beautiful is enough.
Be a rebel, be a fighter, break all the rules, don't give a ****
Be manly, be girly, be all you can.
Be the girl on fire, be passionate, be a dreamer.
Be weird, go crazy, choose love, be a lover.
Be the fierce hurricane if you want to.
A gentle, slow and soft drizzle works too.
Don't feel restrained or constricted ever.
Go wild, live your life like you've never.
I hope you see that there are things beyond beautiful too.
And one of them darling, is you.
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 6:55 AM UTC
Did you just ask me out?
Tryin' to ply me with flowers!
Well nice try, Mister Aquaman,
But get some super powers.
A girl like me can't risk it,
I ain't no downtown baby!
Your devotion and a dollar, sir,
Would buy me a coffee, maybe.
You know it's true, this rump's too fine,
For your sweaty meat hooks there;
It's something else you'll have to grip,
Don't feel the need to share.
Well there's my flight, my throne in the sky;
I look down in safety as the peasants roll by,
I know they'd like to spin a slice of my pie,
But this pie in the sky is priced too **** high!
Back on my island, beach volleyball season.
Which color bikini? Somethin' right for some breezin'
Or just playin' naked, I don't need no **** reason!
My big ******* out for some major crowd pleasin'!
Well that was sure fun, a day in the sun!
I didn't forget you, Mr. Pop Gun;
You would have loved it, this tan honey bun,
But you ain't been swimmin'; you're dry as a nun.
Before I forget you, just thought you should know:
This booty's so fly, it's pressurized, yo
And though upon you this hot wind won't blow,
You can ask "Would she love me?" An emphatic no.
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 6:46 AM UTC
the clouds are breaking
slowly
and sweetly
and just enough to let ribbons of sunlight splash down on our faces
let's play today
let's fill the car with gas
and beer
and horseshoes
and disappear for a few hours on end
further south
on the lake shore
let's run rampant today
kick off our shoes and paddle over the cracking pavement barefoot
at full speed
and full of laughter
let's jump in the puddles
and build in the mud
and dance in the wild flowers like we used to
before we learned that others may be watching
let's fly a kite
unfathomably high
upwards enough to tap-dance through the rings of saturn
and scoop us up some treasures-
astrological costume jewelry just waiting to be adorned
let's sing like we aren't afraid
snap our way to center stage
and bathe in sweltering limelight for the world to hear
we'll sing away all our blues
and the rest of the world's blues too
let's jump off the high cliffs
in our steam pressed sunday best
to show at least ourselves
we're all we've got to impress
and as we're weightless and pressurized
beneath the surface of a glossy green lake
let the buttons
and cufflinks
and pearl earrings fall away
so we can see ourselves some clean way
again
let's forget
let us never remember being scared
and lonely
and lost
at cumbersome crossroads of the past
let's rebuild ourselves from scratch
press stardust and dirt
from the ground up
to make us new
and real
and something we can finally feel proud of
let's be magic
light in the dark
and love to the lost
we can heal hearts
we can hold hands
we can be friends
and be happy
let's play today
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 9:56 PM UTC
You cain't go back
to yesterday's dawn
by adding another verse
to an old song
When time was by my side
we galloped through the years
Now the time shows and slows
and disappears
"Where has time flown ?"
is but an insult to youthful plea
protagonist to the old
and just echoes in me
While love was delegated ,
regulated , copulated . . .
it became sedimentated ,
heated , then pressurized
It became cold marble
entombed in ways
that now are just
memorried
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 10:21 PM UTC
I wrote this a few months ago on a flight across the country. Not my best, but it healed me a bit
Thinking about you doesn't get any easier and even at 30,000 feet in the air the feeling you left with me somehow manages to suffocate me, through twenty different layers of clouds and pressurized cabins. The lady sitting next to me has a sad look in her eyes. Maybe she is suffering through some kind of heartbreak herself, just like me. She orders her coffee black. I want to reach out to her and hold her hand, but it's probably too cold, and she might **** away from my touch, the same way you did that day when you left. She smells like cheap perfume and the lies of lovers she has tried too hard to forget.
I wonder about jumping right out this plane right now. I wonder if I'd land with a splat and if a nice young man would arrive with a broom and pan, sweep me up, and discard me into the nearest trash can, like they do in the carnivals. Would I regret it the moment my feet left the edge of the plane? Would I get the same feeling in my stomach on the way down as I did when we were together? I think I'd only jump if I were holding your hand.
I wrote “I miss you” in a too big sharpie across the front of my notebook on Tuesday. Colored it in blue because there’s not enough green to feel much else when you're not around. Two hours to go and my entire life is falling down around me. (Leave me be leave me be leave me be.) I want to be the space that water fills between your toes and hidden among the things that keeps your rusty heart beating. But I can't be the oil that makes your wheels keep spinning. At best I'm the hot hot steam that keeps your hands from burning and bleeding. You don't want me and you never fell in love with me. You fell in love with words I learned to recite and looks I knew when to give and this carcinogenic smile.
Apologies don't sound as true as they should and I never really say what I mean. I'm just as ****** up as you. And these are words carved into walls of abandoned asylums and painted on canvases with blood in lieu of paint and this is the only way I know how to say that I know what you're going through and what you've been through and how sorry I am that I can't be everything you expected of me.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
I was encapsulated,
pressurized,
orbiting endlessly
through circadian-days
blending into starless-nights
eternal.
I wanted
to see the rings,
to feel the sacred-dust
on my face &
left the comforts,
only to be locked out,
forever wandering
in the asteroid belt.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 9:21 AM UTC
21 hours ago
received the message below,
from a fellow poet, here,
now somewhat, more disappeared,
resting in the shady quietude of
Elliot's servers
a mere 21 hours ago,
a thunderbolt telegram
of virtual dots and dashes,
well received
she,
whose name
you have forgotten,
even if you knew it back when
and,
I shan't knowingly now reveal...
***perhaps if you were
one of the
multiyear variates,
still here, still seeking
solutions
to the
equations of the
human formulation,
one of the veterans of the
early word wars,
when the line between fellow poet
and human being was full of
invitational openings,
tween those dots and dashes,
we all eagerly entered those places,
crossing over into
those human openings,
making poets into friends,
yes,
if you webbed here back then,
you may have known her too...***
21 hours ago -
"there's a reason
I got to know you,
even though that might
sound silly.
In a way,
you saved me
two summers ago..."
~~~~~~
this message,
teaches me to remember
the power of words
supercharged,
be careful what you
write,
you just might save a
soul...
didn't not ken, well enough
the pressurized curve of her bend,
though read all her private journals,
her thesis academic,
her private ascetic analysis
and poems that milked & masked
the angst of a life
really real hard
today
reread,
tried anyway,
two years of messages
***could not feign
the pain
unintentionally recovered
while looking for
clues to myself,
this purported savior***
all I recall is
a woman near her ends
woman near no means
but knowing the meaning of
the power drink meaning of
"just going on"
that was dug deep in between,
and how we traded poems
for each other,
and I called her,
daughter
but from now on and within,
when I see a message
time stamped
21 hours ago
I'll be
better ready
for the
explosions of myself
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 6:34 PM UTC
Gunmetal Christmas socks pulled
past the calf like go-getter high school
girls "rocking" rainbow ******** below
the belt loops. I never went a day
without seeing short shorts and socks
replacing pant legs with a gap at the knee
to breathe. Downplay X-mas with black
jeans thinning 'bove the knees. I guess
it's payback for all the surly Santas
paid per nervous child lapdance
that got ******* out of $1.50
because I walked away.
For all the St. Nicks breathing pressurized
bourbon on little kids' wishlists.
Thread through a burgundy belt frayed
by the buckle teeth. And I'm sure this is really
burgundy, probably the only burgundy I never
questioned much, unless the manufacturer's
lying to me. Unless it's really a flexible case
for wild circuits and tiny open mics in bars
going on 'round the clock. Not just Tuesdays.
Fiber optics around my waist transmitting
telephone transmissions and cybernetic ****
monitoring my hips and what my **** does.
And my thoughts; they're ******* taking
my thoughts. Precious poetry lines lost
to the scarcity of pens in my car, when I'll
shave next, whether or not I want a burr grinder,
if I'll break glasses at work and have to drink
the glitters like iced tea from the hardwood floor.
Maybe I'll cut my gums. Maybe my tongue'll
become a chandelier butterfly and carry
me to Coudersport or Elmira or Nowhere
to watch pregnant teenagers push flat-tire
shopping carts heroin-shaking in the newborn
section. Their babies are spitting up Gerber plans
Mom has never considered. Baby's just a rock rolling
down the birth canal that may someday end up
a boulder in a state park.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC
grit sand conglomerate binds
friction holding - heel steady
tottering
navy lace snags
upon brick dipped in night
save for - street lamps poignantly
establishing form to
lips seeking
to traverse the topography of your structure
tongue craving - salivary essence about mine
my curls remember being dragged
across,
- then –
pressed firmly against the brick
snagging
on vertical groove and red clay
your pelvic bone
ground deep – pressurized
into dust against my own
Serotonin, oxytocin fuse
Blown -
Neural patina – thick
Pompeii to Vesuvius
Diffuse
Carbon filament lattice
Clings - to
ancient couple
cuddling
in ashen grave
Compressed densely
Perchance time will compress this grit
creating friction under sole.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
The promises you made
Above my grave
Seeped through the soil
The sky flared
Outlining your heart
Orange
Red
Green
Bleeding
Your tears fell to rest
On my skeletal tongue
Satisfying my dusted trachea
Morbid Moons
Dancing throughout
The Lilac sky
You've been here too long
And I believed every promise
That you sowed in my ribcage
So take what's left
Of my pressurized heart
Take your Lilac dipped lies
Tie them off
Sell them to another lover
Before morrow ends
Take my pen
Cast it out to sea
If only so it will bleed
All of the truths
That you never confessed to me
And I to you
Because isn't that what's best?
Sugar coated lies
With honeyed eyes
And frayed rays of sunshine
Goodbye lovely
I'll see you another morrow
Once Apollo rises
And once Ra sets
After Luna shimmers in the sky
I'll wish you away
From the base of my grave
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 1:01 AM UTC
my head is a skin tied
water-shit.
wobble minded and
stench ridden.
it bleeds diarrhea.
an ache not of throbbing
but like, pressurized
wet tissue membraned
balloon stuff.
could pop
any time.
will pop.
just a matter of
time.
seven thousand days now
I've been lugging this
bubbling froth-tank.
this neck ornament.
this ***** machine CPU.
and all it does is
complain about
itself.
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 7:40 AM UTC
Time comes in waves,
is measured in pulses of light and dark.
Not true light, mind, but this is how I imagine it--
the tightness and then the sigh as some pressurized valve loosens.
I have never seen true light,
but the sands whisper of it longingly
as they tell their tales of something rare and precious.
I envy them their fluid existence,
swept up in a sea of that which is greater than themselves.
I am a solitary being, tough and hardened,
built to endure rather than enjoy.
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC
Fire breathing gorgons
Consume radical liquids
Fall into poetry repetition
Also sprach Zanabanana
Centered and pressurized
Back-up pushes against
Sphincter.
Antibiotic shortage
Carefully planned
Lower intestinal numbness
Head in the clouds
*** on the ground
I'm right
It hurts.
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 10:39 AM UTC
Love explodes like little paint tubes
pressurized inside my heart
color shoots
and streaks
across all these walls and chambers
dripping down through all my veins
a rainbow stretched from chest to feet
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
“The Weight of the Untold” (Pradip)
<•>
6:55am: Jan 2 nine twenty twenty five
(read the comments first)
enveloped by the early mix
of morning’s hangover of dark
blue gray, window glints of a
sun playing peekaboo over the
yet there (!) Manhattan skyline,
the utter “ness” of the stilled,
unwritten, unstirred, uncolored
dim of medium shadowy light,
the quietude is an actual thing,
a warming coverlet of cozy peace
am I not forcibly compelled to
write of the weight of white spaces,
Pradip pokes my curious anxiety,
as I question my own words, that
he tosses back to me, so so oft
he ****** the cells of my fingertips
to peek, to bleed, then peck letters
from within, to comprehend my
museum artifacts of words,
the weight of their panoply
of mystery
How, how can the white weight of
our seemingly empty spaces tween
words, carry this burden on its,
bony shoulders, can’t we just let them
be, like the breaths exhaled, the
disappearing exhaust of being human,
is it necessary to carry knowing knowledge,
of what needs no body, isn’t the inexplicable
better left unimagined, there be so much tolling troubles, let them be left masked, they’ll appear as embodied black letters, of-when, their discord is accorded their moment of due…no more need to succumb prematurely
to this onerous lighter than air pressurized crushing atmosphere of reused oxygen
did I awake just to prove my existence, to offer up this combination of vocabulary of wondering, one more explication of the unknowns that are visible to the naked eyes, big, hard, factuals better left alone…and suddenly the morning light has arrived,
dear god,it will be a sun-filled sky,
and that weight, is modestly eased,
never fully erased, but you know,
I know, most of its occupants
even those
who won’t show their faces
And perhaps they should remain
hidden in the white spaces
between the letters and the words,
u. n. t. o. l. d.
Jan 29, 2025
Jan 29, 2025 at 8:07 AM UTC
in school
we learned about hydraulic fracturing
when they would send pressurized chemicals into the earth
until the earth began to “frack”
well that’s what i felt like
when your words rained down upon me so hard
my brain began to crack
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 2:53 PM UTC
Cities Dot The World Below Me,
Their Lights Reflecting Off Translucent Smog,
The Trees Wave To Me In My Flight,
As Mountains And Canyons Bellow From My Sound,
I Am In The Middle Of The Sky,
Just A Couple Thousand Feet Away From The Stars,
If Only These Wings Could Take Me A Bit Higher,
Then That--Would Be Flight,
Miles Pass By In Seconds Below My Lifted Body,
As My Eyes Hold Millions Of People Imbetween Weary Glances,
Pressurized Air Fills My Earthenware Like Lungs,
As My Ears Pop With Unsatisfying Pain,
Is This How Airborn Embers Feel?
And As I Fade Into The Impending Night,
My Reflection Disappears In The Atmosphere's Haze,
Graceful As The Clouds Underneath Me
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 6:44 PM UTC
WHEN LIFE OFFERS YOU LEMONS...,
Life is just strange. Now you may disagree,
But maybe by the end of this poem, you'll see it how i see...
Its true that you can never be right, without doing wrong.
Somehow you don't realize what you have, until its gone.
'Hello' is never very far from 'Goodbye'.
The happiest and funniest memories can make you cry.
There's a little bit of good in everything that's bad.
You cant be really happy unless you were depressed and sad.
You may have a sweet tooth but cannot live without spice.
When you're burdened or pressurized,good always comes with a surprise.
The fear could be greater than the danger itself.
A new 'day' begins, when at night the clock strikes '12'.
A few days after a new hair cut, you feel it was better before.
When your enemy has what you have, you don't like what you had anymore.
The prettiest rainbow appears after a horrible storm.
Only when you're bored, life seems real long.
Life is just strange. I'm sure you have agreed.
So the next time it offers you lemons and bitter-guards,
Just know that its preparing you for something sweet...
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 11:45 AM UTC
So here, I've left you this dead bird, on your bed,
Don't say I never gave you anything.
Well you haven't cleaned out my litter box in a week!
So I just used your shower.
Neuter! what does neuter mean?
Is this some new savory, tender chicken sausage perhaps?
I don't know you!, stop looking at me!, I don't like you! Get off of my couch!
What is it with you letting your friends come over to my house!
Whistle, whistle, hear boy, hear boy, c'mon boy........
I'm not a dog you know; I'm not coming!.........I'm not....
Oh did I just hear the delicate air escaping a pressurized can of tuna........coming!!!
No...not interested in the ball of yarn, because I don't feel like playing that's why....
I'm just going to stay in this window sill all day; leave me alone!
A bath!?......ha......seriously?.....you've got to be kidding me,
I do a **** fine job of licking myself on the constant thank you very much!
Well it's 10:00 o'clock in the morning, what do you expect!
I'm taking my mid morning NAP! ***** off!
Yes....I chewed, clawed, scratched, and slobbered on those loafers of yours,
I was bored.
Psssssst.....psssssst....Hey...hey buddy, .......yeah you, reading this ****** poetry,
Hey listen, you got some catnip I can score?
-----ChawzzyScript
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 5:27 PM UTC
Life is so hard sometimes.
It pulls, taking the table cloth
along with it.
It strengthens, taking the tide
along with it.
It chides
talking the moon
out of its misery
wishing it were daybreak
but when day arrives,
the moon wishes it were night.
Round and round we go
on this roller coaster called life.
Hanging on is so difficult
with responsibilities tugging
at the mainframe
about to crumble apart like
break pads crumbling under
the weight of it all.
A pressurized catapult or
catalog explaining the width
it takes to squeeze through
the trash chute without
crushing anything of importance.
Holding our breath
as the bumps become clear
afraid of the coaster
slipping off the tracks
and plummeting into
the frigid unknown.
Luck is only heresy
in this world of uncertainty.
But cars can be fixed,
jobs can be taken,
and bodies can be satisfied
in ways unheard of in reality.
Life is so hard sometimes.
But looking at it with new eyes,
with a combative, stubborn grip
on the cold steel handle,
a roller coaster can be both exhausting and exhilarating
if you know what to look for.
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 4:49 PM UTC
My life goes crust to core.
explain
my skin my voice my hair, I.
My crust. hard and rugged, rivers flowing,
valleys blooming.
My people and love and life walk here.
And sometimes earthquakes rock me and volcanoes spew my magma.
what is in your mantle
Hot.
swirling and pushing and molding my crust.
inside i am
pressurized,
liable to errupt.
the minerals here closer
to what i really am.
and your core?
in nature:
inhuman, immortal and intangible
in being:
I Dont Know What It Is.
I,
The Globe,
am floating out in space.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 7:04 PM UTC
I found my call of duty
inside your warzone
after leaving my pressurized cabin
and dropping in randomly
I started collecting money and items as fast as I could
to match the competition’s capability.
Everyone’s an enemy, everyone is hostile
I fear them and the weapons they’ll use on me
barraging me with dragon’s breath shotgun blasts
to put me down quickly
or silently sniping from far away
so I can’t defend myself.
The only way I can survive is staying in your circle
which keeps moving away from me
so I sprint through the fields and forests
making my way through already looted homes
hoping no one takes advantage of my vulnerability
racing to your circle before I suffocate.
Once I finally get to your circle I realize it’s too small to hide in
because everyone is so close together
I must engage them before they attack me
but they all lay siege to the small shack I’m trapped in
lobbing grenades and firing at me
I can’t even poke my head out.
So I stay inside
donning my gas mask
letting the circle overtake them and pick them off one by one
as I wait inside anxiously worried someone may try to join me
but eventually they’re all gone and I’m the only one left
and in that moment I have achieved victory royale.
May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 10:12 PM UTC
Made love to the puddles
Formed by imaginary friends
Imaginary rain clouded minds
Imaginary people
Imaginary boundaries
Keeping ones heart away
Ripping
Tearing
Bursting at the seams
Water pours into a glass
A pessimistic stream
Filled to the brim
But claims a half empty life
Uncovering skeletons
Digging up a half buried knife
A body a waterfall
Pressurized, cascading
A river of consciousness
Floodgates, brainwaves
High tide, kisses the shore
Like clasping clammy hands
Nervous souls
Too afraid to try
Too afraid to dive
Not afraid to die
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 1:54 AM UTC