"questionnaires" poems
My quest began, before Inquisitive questionnaires, questioned my solicitude.
I traveled round the globe, In search of a Gold, to meet my goal.
In frnt of me, stood a beautiful angel, with a beautiful body.
,nothing wil hold me baq,
the way she walked was so dramatic, which made her attractive, by love I became assertive, but her vioce was fantastic, So I grew attentive, In other to be romantic, which made me sarcastic.
her smile waz beautiful, Which made me Boastful, but yet doubtful, I became Playful, I Never knew she was powerful
her luscious gigantic figure, was Perfectly executed to perfection, Suddenly I became frantic, Now I have to be more strategic.
i only grew anxious, which made her precarious. i turned perplexed, while she remained unagitated, her behavior waz sassy. i grew crazy,
the meaning of loneliness, was created frm her lovely eyes, i wish you could see the angel I see when you stand in front of me, i fell in love with someone, Who separated me frm everyone,
i adore how u make me smile, even from so many miles away, you energize me in standing up tall, Love me again like you did the first day You are pretty, you are sweet, but im still a bit naïve with my heart"
If d sea were to be a burning fire under d sun, and the blustery wind were to blow it, profusely like a stormy rain f volcano, upon d land, i will never leave.
i will always be there for you, i am your little friend, i will always be in love with you, all the way till the end, My eyes blinked twice, Fully opened in tears
Tonite my heart seems in pieces, My eyes drop tears that itches, Now I am here making wishes , Trying to picture u near me within inches.
It was only a dream!
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 8:12 PM UTC
If you thought you were invincible,
Then Mr fantastic is the name that I bare. Lower your force field, no need to fear.
I could answer a thousand questionnaires and still "You" I would prefer.
Like daddies first gift, am your teddy bear.
Resisting your tender dimpled smile was a harder battle than I could bare.
A trail of your presence, I would follow, lavender in the air.
Watching you walk away entices my stare.
It makes me wonder the identity of the architect behind your hypnotic rear.
Now we play, we fight, we tease, we care.
You make me a warrior in the game of truth or dare.
Stay alive with me far and near.
Life only exists in these moments we share.
And as my fingers playfully drape between your hair.
You giggle softly, as my whispers flow in your ear.
I shelter you completely from the front and rear.
I will have my way, your kiss, our cheer.
As we seat together in a bamboo chair.
Am energised in a place so rare
You roll your backside like none other could compare.
Like all good girls gone bad, you leave me lusting for a heir.
Tonight, a private party awaits up the stairs.
Laid waiting by the sofa, cherries and cream is all you wear.
Luring closer, your index finger beckons for my sensual strong souvenir.
A love feast begin with a prayer in arrears.
Like a stallion, you submit completely into my care.
simmering with radiance as I sweeten your lair.
I carve your arches with honey and steer.
You got me feeling like romeo in a
viewtiful affair.
Your skin speaks and my hands understands its fears,
Your eyes full of desire, my heartbeat fully aware
Your lips "hypnotic", my eyes hang on it like a chandelier.
We float away while our lungs beg for air.
One touch to your soft spot, I move like a musketeer.
Your fingers claw my back to go deeper in there.
You feel a flood building, aching to be spared.
I suspend it all and pull out instead.
Can you feel it coming, be prepared.
Like Moses said, "I" will take you there.
A water fall rises for the one who fared.
You recite the lords prayer but my name you declare.
Life could be pointless without a care, Best to find something interesting and relieve the despair.
Like the way you found that flower blooming in the air,
The same way I found you and knew we could be a pair.
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
Are these tears of blundering laughter
or heckles of contempt
that spirit on these haggard few
to rhapsodise our era’s curtain calls?
They who brought us mounting debt and conscientiousness
which seems only to be healed in the appeasing fluorescence
of 24-hour supermarkets and the purgatory
of weekends spent at home?
Such stifling, nervous coughs
are head as responses of
today’s domestic questionnaires
Gung-ho reformative advances
and calls to “pull up our socks”
Mixed with the state-sponsored fortune-telling
Rationed out to boys languishing on the dole.
Which All falsely transpires,
intimidatingly revealed as being
About as appealing as vacuum cleaners for the soul
aimed at the resolutely bored to tears.
Despite our fears
the sun will come streaming again
through fresh fir trees
which decorate contemplative, sheltered lanes.
These last, frostbitten years
seek replacement with halcyon days
in order to suspend dogmatic disbelief.
Let’s not get ahead of ourselves:
Pessimism is ****
Even in the most roaring of times
we remained despondent and calculated.
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 12:12 PM UTC
Genuine conversations
were passion's static overblown
through classical lover's eyes.
i.
Confessing unrevealed tries
in variation with grieving cries.
Sighs and moans were touched
and savored everyday, at the same place.
ii.
Unexpected completions
were deviously divulged over
The temptress' despair, while cardboard
arrogance compressed within aluminum kisses.
iii.
Chemical liquids were drawing attention,
fingertips quivering at the sight of your eyes.
Palpable tension cutting through the styrofoam walls,
that we gently established to separate this sweet seduction.
iv.
Demolition began once playful vengeance intervened.
No longer did the requiem delay its flow and crunch,
for its succulent grin was painted on his chest
and carried on his hands.
v.
Cards were drawn to encaustic wax papers,
captivating lover's delight.
With sudden frustration, we searched evanescently,
for a piece of carton to hide from the fiery rains.
vi.
While puzzled Questionnaires were imprinted on catatonic embraces,
we both gnawed on the bone for answers;
barking gently at our feet, we tangled with uncompromising pretenses,
giving ourselves multiple aberrations with heartbreaking waves.
Tonight I cuddle the thorns and the knives,
contemplating lethargic affections,
infected with veracity's confection,
ignoring the ideal that I fell unfulfilled.
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 12:03 AM UTC
The desperate scramble to
rationalise; the burning need
to make sense of the
nonsensical, this
all-too-earnest search for
answers, for some guidestone
that will help us decipher
the craziness scrawled on the walls,
a key that might unlock that door
which currently bars the path to
sanity and reason.
We put polls in the field,
conduct surveys, devise
better, more probing questionnaires,
consult eminent
psychologists, sociologists, economists,
go blind on data
tabulated into every conceivable form,
cite studies, historical precedent,
strive for any, any answers
that will explain to us
how we came to
this.
And maybe the reason is
less complex.
Maybe
we got what we
deserved.
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 4:28 AM UTC
This one is for the doctor who called me “delicate”
I think I missed that word in the thick textbooks about disease I’ve seen
This is for the lab technician who lost not one but two vials of my blood
Because I really wanted to help that new nurse figure out veins again.
This is for the stupid slogans on the walls
A fichus with the word peace under it, I'm cured.
This is for the geriatric room with the low table they always put me in
An arthritis patient means elderly woman, right?
This is for the negative tests and endless questionnaires about my health
Checking how often, how severe, and how much I care.
This is for the four empty orange prescription bottles sitting neatly on my desk
Red pills, and yellow pills, and white ones, oh my!
This is for the loud groan of pain in the morning I make before I even wake
Because why shouldn’t my roommate wake up when I do?
This is for the symphony of my cracking joints and creaking bones
Because violently trembling when you walk up stairs is so very ****
This is for the manic googling at 4 AM,
Does this symptom mean anything? Is it just a quirk or side affect?
This is for WebMd, bless their hearts,
Who think that sniffles mean polyps and headaches mean cancer.
This is for the flights upon flights of stairs I climb each day,
Cats are considered **** is panting like a dog?
This is for the cramping and shaking hands everyday
Because as a writer and artist I never even use them right?
This is for my mother
Who’s waited patiently with me through every doctor’s visit
This is for my best friend Lauren
Who missed three classes to take me to a clinic
This is for my nephew
Who is too big for me to pick up without grimacing now
This is for the wine I drank
And the bedroom basement I climb out of
And the backpack I heave around
And the school lunches I leave in toilets
It’s for the nights I have to stay in and the ones where I make myself leave
Because the only thing tough enough to stop me
Is me.
And I’ll tip my hat to myself for putting up such a good challenge.
It’ll just make it even more satisfying when I knock it the **** down.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 4:48 PM UTC
The world is ugly, but I am pretty.
Well, that's what he tells me.
It's the others we don't trust.
Well, that's what they say.
And, Keeping your sleeves pulled down
ensues questionnaires.
Keeping your socks on during ***
implies issues.
Chapped lips mouthing curse words,
plush stomachs,
innocuous insecurities.
Do they exist?
Do you?
Without a single thought about it in your head,
you no longer know
a misconstrued life styled puzzle
for your hands only.
Piece together a forceful way
to stuff yourself inside a place you don't fit into.
Find yourself.
Between my legs there is a sad girl.
A cosmic interlude loops in her iris
when you are able to see your breath,
untouchable,
but warm.
You feel
held
held
held.
****
my name
my name
my name
is not pronounced the way it's spelled.
baseless arrangement,
mindless pleasures,
moaning louder than your voice could ever be,
better than your heart could ever wish.
for you,
love you.
for me,
love me.
I'm sorry.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 6:02 AM UTC