"psyching" poems
Grinding, halting, soon be nothing
Barking, mocking, blankly staring
Striking, jolting, endless weeping
Aiming, hoping, nobody's helping
Falling, Flying, all seems failing
Psyching, mourning, almost dying
Grasping, Feeling an unwanted feeling
Melting, forgetting, old days warning
Seeking, wanting a fresh beginning
Succeeding everything in the making
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 1:46 AM UTC
On her arm, the tower of Pisa bumps back and forth with her swollen sleeves.
On her back, standard holometabolous insect flutter flames it’s way heavenward.
Her thighs house songbirds, yellow, flightless—beauty is her.
A cobra draped around her neck; an olive branch psyching back, rearing it's head, infinite.
Her body is a shrine of shadowy ink.
Her cheeks have become temples.
I lie my faith in them alone.
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 11:29 PM UTC
It’s 8am, I’ve slept for about three hours and I’m awake for absolutely no reason, my heart is heavy.
It’s 10am, I fell back to sleep an hour ago and I just woke up. I’m checking my phone in hopes of something special but there’s nothing there.
It’s 11am, I’m getting in the shower and getting ready to go do something before I have to go to work.
It’s 1pm and I’m out venturing with a friend, pretending to enjoy myself but they can tell that I’m not feeling my best. I’m fine.
4pm rolls around and I’m going to work a ****** job with a bunch of people I can hardly stand. The only thing getting me through the night is hope that I’ll check my phone and get something from you.
8pm nothing.
10pm I’m off work now, that wasn’t terrible I guess.
11pm I change out of my work clothes, get comfortable and pour myself a drink a little stronger than usual.
12am still nothing.
1am I’m on my third or fourth drink and I’m feeling kind of drunk right now. Thinking of calling you but psyching myself out. I don’t want to come off as needy.
1:30am My drinks are getting stronger and my self control is getting weaker. I break down.
2:30am I can’t even walk straight anymore, I should probably slow down.
3am I’m not feeling very well now but I don’t want to waste this drink.
4am I’m throwing up and crying and there’s nobody here to help me. All I can think about is how I want your attention.
5am I’m curled up in bed, makeup smeared, I’m anxious and exhausted. I send you a text apologizing for being me and I fall asleep.
It’s 8am, I’ve slept for about three hours and I’m awake for absolutely no reason, my heart is heavy. Still nothing.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 2:53 AM UTC
constructed mentally, Over time
by our subconscious an imitation
as a defense mechanism built a prison on our visions, with Limitations
in hopes failure can bring solace avoided is feeling voided
but so is opportunity,
So what good is impunity
if u have no ...immunity
To ******** preventing annuity
Internally u need unity
Cause self doubt can help hold u back when nothing else did so stupidly
U let the biased opinions
poison ur community
a hard lesson To learn when that lessons ur only gratuity
But how can u think Intuitively
When presented with all the theories
The factored potential risk, variables
And that's why I always fear me
Before my enemies or my obstacle
Cause if I'm not mentally stable
I won't be mentally able
And then eventually ill be hateful
Cuz essentially the playful
And light hearted always go
A little further, cuz his approach
And most self confidence shows
That even if he fails, he knows
Hell bounce back brilliantly
its not how many times u Fall,
but if u keep gettin up: Resiliency!
While at the same time learning humility and building these characteristics are prognosticators and measure predictions and see
When u wish on a star, that's me,
Go twinkle twinkle, &don;'t let them
****** ****** all over ur dreams and that includes you, who like them
Self sabotage when ur self doubt
Comes out psyching ourselves out
Only after discovering someone else
Who made u second guess what u felt
So go in front of a mirror and peer
What appears when u get naked
Your ***** Now that u know u still have em
Take a mental picture and save it
Use the **** to take life and **** it
break it, then erase it
Cause nothing can be written
About a destiny you didn't make yet
You act to manifest it
Don't eat their ******** reject it
If u already did dont digest it
Throw it up like a bulimic or anorexic
Supermodel.....how rude! Point is
Like H u need preparation fast
So u can get rich enough to payoff
Closeted Skeletons from the past
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 4:55 AM UTC
hitch-hicking....... with this girl on crutches
a van.....with..... "women's liberation" stenciled on the side, stops, and 2 girls get out
"we'll take the girl but not the guy,' one says
THE GIRL NODS, AND WALKS TOWARD THE VAN!
i see the "logic'---- her being on crutches and all,,,,,,but!!!
SHE GETS TO THE VAN , LIFTS HIGH HER CRUTCHES, SWINGS, AND PRACTICALLY KNOCKS THE DOOR OFF ITS "HINGES"!!!!
out they come!....about 8 of them
SHE TURNS AND SAYS..."WE'LL TAKE THE GIRL BUT NOT THE GUY...IS NOT THE REVOLUTION"
they are dumbfounded..........just before "battle"..........(and i was psyching up fierce)
their obvious leader says
"NO, I DON'T SUPPOSE IT IS"
they get back in the van and leave.
------------
AH , my lovely girl!
spirit of humanity!
spirit of liberty!
spirit of the REVOLUTION!
and i becoming a MAN!
-------------------
and so proud i was to say
"SEE HER.....SHE'S MY GIRL!
Jul 27, 2010
Jul 27, 2010 at 2:29 PM UTC
i’m sitting under my covers writing this & thinking “my handwriting looks ugly” but then i remembered that this will be typed later so it won’t really.
but i care about details, details that fill this paper, details filling my head.
to knick away at someone’s details like a scab you really want to pick at, but your mother told you “no”, that little desire to know & feel more, gnawing at your skin.
it’s scary, ya know. scary, psyching myself out each time, i hate messing up yet i always do.
things get cloudy, so i can’t see where i’m going or what to really say.
but then those clouds, so start to fade and i’m closer to the ground than i thought i was
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 5:35 AM UTC
It’s monsoon season here in New Haven,
gone, are the banked, fluorescent colors of sunset.
This feeling hit me, like a rogue wave.
“We have to go out tonight,” I announced, to no one in particular.
I think I’d hit my capacity for monotony.
Lisa looked up from her book.
“The moment has to happen,” I continued,
with an animal-like awareness of the immediate,
“For the ****** ****** imaginary
and as something to cherish in backward gaze.”
“I’m for that.” Lisa shrugged, almost indifferently - she was used to my purple prose.
“I’m buying,” I announced, to no one in particular.
“Then let’s DO this thing!” Sunny called-out from her room.
“Where are we going?” Leong asked, poking her head out of her room.
—-
I took an m-cat practice test earlier today.
In the dorm, before breakfast and the test, I was staring in the mirror.
“Hey you, where ya been—how ya been?” I asked myself.
I followed up with, “Are you ready for this—are you up for this?”
Lisa stuck her head in the bathroom, “Psyching yourself up?” she asked.
She’d be taking the test later too.
—-----
The tests took about 6 hours. I’ve taken the downloadable ‘practice tests’ but not strictly on-the-clock. There’s just something about sitting at that official, green terminal - on an uncomfortable plastic chair, being timed by officiously grim and callously indifferent bureaucrats. (#chefskiss)
I felt like the young, haunted governess in ‘The Turn of the ***** by Henry James. Except my ghosts were my entire, immediate family - who’ve taken this test before me and done really well.
My mom’s apparition hovered over my shoulders - making a snarky noise when I picked certain answers.
My spectral brother sat by a window, feet-up on the desk in front of him, boredly checking his watch.
My intangible sister sat at an empty terminal, as if she too, were taking the tests, and finally Step (my stepfather’s doppelgänger) ghosted in, like a Spielberg effect, through the closed classroom door, periodically, to voice his support.
The place seemed positively crowded.
I got a 507 (out of a possible 528), in the 76th percentile (they said). Not good enough (yet).
I’ll take the real test in July (sigh).
Apr 4, 2024
Apr 4, 2024 at 12:00 PM UTC
Last night on the roads of Jupiter there was this motor bike race where Brian Allan went up there to challenge up against scott McDonald and Bridget bromhead and Steve Grigor and Brian's late father Barry and his late Aunty pam
And the greatest boxer that had ever lived Mohammad Ali and
John English was at the tale of the race and as Brian Allan was pushing his weight around up and down up and down up and down and then as the race was progressing all the racers were
Putting pressure on the other races by psyching everyone out
But nobody was annoyed by that so much
Steve took the lead yelling out
Woh oh oh I am a working class man and scott MacDonald was keeping close to Bridget and
Brian's Aunty pam and Jon English sang Hollywood seven
Party all night as well as during the day and Brian Allan was keeping pretty close to Ali and he pedalled to the MAX and his abs were pushing upwards
And Steve Grigor said you are still alive and you should continue your writing because you were great and Brian put on the pressure on Steve saying
I will win this race and Bridget caught up to Brian but Jon English sped up past them
And won the race and Brian and Bridget were a drawn second
And the other racers were coming in bit by bit and John
English sang all together now
Yesterday was a memory
It might have been when rock and roll never forgets forgives or regrets nothing comes easy
Try to make it all together now
And Patrick came up to Brian and said let's fly up ahead and Pat flew too fast and Brian was
Giving his body a workout
But he stopped the bike and
Woke up dudes
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 7:49 AM UTC
Privilege, has come of rage?
A succor, found bedlam...
Came and went, like an unified nation
Giving the truth, a bit of beauty's wisdom...
Guises in love, with a realm...
Of valor, the poise and waiting of simplicity
In the bells of the sky, a hunger, a health
Waiting on harmony's wish, a stir of implicitly...?
Harshness in a hash of destiny...
Set to reliant music, the toll of our secrets
Impugned totals, of decency come for a star's infinity...
Care is such; much of a timid could, asking about universal limits?
A light for synchronicity...
We wager is a scattered hope, the times to defeat devoidance
With the eyes, the purpose in love with a wakeful sleep...
Is reach in its fault, or its drama of poise that has avid chance?
Sweat of burden, instinct to liberate a hallowed shadow...?
In the decisions of ruling vice, with the grace of knowing meant
The voice of a proper patience, the tooth of remorse with ought's how...
How is sincerity to avoid a clash, within the sphere of time and its letter?
Passion
In the stead we claim, is a reason to add the hill of pomposity
Quite an other; in the rage of seemliness was our only hope, integrity?
Of a quieter smile, in the name of entertaining a rational of reality?
Do we belong here, when the mind of antiquity was a revelation?
Like anarchy in succor's flames, a dragon of conscience
Has come of age, at whether liberty can be an intuition...
The power if not the privilege, of world's charm to imbue presence...
Angel's dancing on a pin...
Earthen stares, intellect forth a whisper of worth, no man
Without his eventual lip, is alone the works of redemption
In its way, is so, is go with a devoted **** of the fruit of the sun?
Apr 29, 2025
Apr 29, 2025 at 10:24 AM UTC
As teachers,
(and I know some are back already, sorry)
we are doing the equivalent
of sportsfolk psyching up
Our judo coach is shaking and slapping
while we, in denial, are still mowing lawns
and planning actual meals from recipes
In our dreams, the Bueller…?
Bueller…? Bueller…?
reels are already playing
with our classes disobeying to our faces
So for everyone’s sake
ease us in please
keep us keen and we’ll deal with your progeny
‘til Halloween
Aug 26, 2021
Aug 26, 2021 at 9:52 AM UTC