"racking" poems
. **_ _
/ /
/ /
||**
enticed by \\\ the alluring
promise of everlasting sweetness•i had
shed all trepidation to indulge in this lone
songstress•hanging on its own, just enough
within my arm's length•seemed so easy but
a formidable test of strength•i had reached
and plucked without in mind, the doubt of
myth•held it for an instant before sinking
in my teeth•it's the sole mouthful that
had brought about this perpetual
racking cough•it's the apple...
that i should've never taken
a big bite out of...•
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
Go hang yourself, you old M.D.!
You shall not sneer at me.
Pick up your hat and stethoscope,
Go wash your mouth with laundry soap;
I contemplate a joy exquisite
I'm not paying you for your visit.
I did not call you to be told
My malady is a common cold.
By pounding brow and swollen lip;
By fever's hot and scaly grip;
By those two red redundant eyes
That weep like woeful April skies;
By racking snuffle, snort, and sniff;
By handkerchief after handkerchief;
This cold you wave away as naught
Is the damnedest cold man ever caught!
Give ear, you scientific fossil!
Here is the genuine Cold Colossal;
The Cold of which researchers dream,
The Perfect Cold, the Cold Supreme.
This honored system humbly holds
The Super-cold to end all colds;
The Cold Crusading for Democracy;
The Führer of the Streptococcracy.
Bacilli swarm within my portals
Such as were ne'er conceived by mortals,
But bred by scientists wise and hoary
In some Olympic laboratory;
Bacteria as large as mice,
With feet of fire and heads of ice
Who never interrupt for slumber
Their stamping elephantine rumba.
A common cold, gadzooks, forsooth!
Ah, yes. And Lincoln was jostled by Booth;
Don Juan was a budding gallant,
And Shakespeare's plays show signs of talent;
The Arctic winter is fairly coolish,
And your diagnosis is fairly foolish.
Oh what a derision history holds
For the man who belittled the Cold of Colds!
10.9k
Im Sitting Here
Thinking about life.
As The Homies Are Taking Turns
Passing, Shot Gun
Sniffing, Racking, hot railing
Twisting
The Pookie Pipe 666
The Devils Clear ****
There Getting lost in that ****
Addicts since they were all youngin
Kicking it with 19, 25 30 40 year olds
Im Looking, Then Im looking down.
see the pipe passed on to me
Where ibegan to think and
Look Down On my
Life.
Reality hits me.
Im following the same line, chasing the same thang
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 12:14 PM UTC
This...
The shaking of a reed
The movement of the water
The flicking of a flame.
This...
The crying of a child
The weariness of the labourer
The burning skin from the sun.
This...
The racking pain of guilt
The salty tears of loneliness
The swan song of past glories.
This...
The masks of complacency
The contracts of acceptance
The closing of the mind.
This...
The continuing saga
The words that fill the pages
The lot in life we all share.
Sep 9, 2025
Sep 9, 2025 at 8:57 AM UTC
As talent drained from every inch of my mind
I found reading other's work only made me jealous
I started to feel unpopular
Not enough ideas left to create anything at all. Not a single drop of inspiration.
As all of theses emotions and realizations mixed together
I became okay with copying your work.
*I can imagine you slaving in the dark
Racking your brain to find the perfect words to finish the last line*
Lucky for me I have it all right here, completed and ready to post
Finished and polished and prepackaged with a message I didn't think of but everyone will commend me for.
I hope you enjoy it.
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
A tourture that breaks and distorts my mind
Every calorie cafrefully chosen
Written in a journal
Every thing ive eaten since 8th grade
No breakfast
Running out the door a weitght in my stomach
No lunch
Drinking a monster
10 more calories than I need
Vaping in the bathroom
Dinner
Dreaded dinner
I have to sit and eat with my family
No excuses
Work it off after dinner
Do I go there
Do I sit on the floor racking my lungs
I can feel the fat settle on my bones
Crying myself to sleep
Repeat
Jan 17, 2022
Jan 17, 2022 at 1:09 PM UTC
As he stepped into the ring,
Everyone his name did sing.
They wanted him to win
The title, for the commoners.
The title in his last fight.
He was out of practice,
His reflexes had slacked.
Gloves, boxers, guard, did him justice
There was something which he lacked.
Lacked in his last fight.
Before he could hear his favorite song,
Followed by the nerve-racking gong.
He had a look around
To catch a familiar sight,
Have a look at her before his last fight.
He checked the stands,
Then glanced around the ropes
And before he had given all hopes
He heard a familiar sound
Right before the first round.
Go hubby go! Punch him left and right!
She screamed with all her might.
Putting a smile on his face,
And then he boxed like an ace.
Winning the title, just for her.
The title in his last fight.
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 10:51 PM UTC
idle, shiftless, indolent
not a care in the world
a white oblivion
of simple, peaceful, blissful
nothing
looming, threatening, impending
charged with energy
electricity just
hours away
gray consciousness
and lazy days
hair-raising, spine-chilling, nerve-racking
strikes of pure shock
mother nature’s roars
reverberating off the blackened firmament
drops of liquid vigor
crashing to the ground
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
What a joy
What a joy
My little nephew,
Two decades back
Born abroad,
When a guest here
A ride on
A piggy shoulder
Who used to enjoy,
To whom I bought
A motley toy
Out of himself
Made a brilliant boy.
“As per my choice
Could you buy me a donkey
Or a could you allow me
A tortoise
To touch
When we go to
The squalid market square
Or the nearby church?”
Double mind
Is his nick name
Now crafting
Software is his game.
A small boy
Inquisitive
He used to ask
“Tell me why
Flowers don't grow
On the sky?”
“Tell me quick
Why animals
Don't speak?
Also stars
Don't grow
On the meadow?”
“Why is the sky high
To touch?”
Such questions helped him
Racking his brain
To come up with
Academic research,
That troubleshoot
Societal challenge
And afford
A nation a turnaround
Or for the better a change!
Now, conversant in IT
It is no wonder
To observe
Binary operation,flowcharts
Subroutines,syntax...
Programming languages
Are at the tip of his finger.
His study at
George Mason University
Has turned out a hit
Getting himself
In the Dean's List.
A boy that lends
To parents, relatives
And teachers
A heeding ear
Is really dear.
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 8:48 AM UTC
When fierce conflicting passions urge
The breast, where love is wont to glow,
What mind can stem the stormy surge
Which rolls the tide of human woe?
The hope of praise, the dread of shame,
Can rouse the tortur’d breast no more;
The wild desire, the guilty flame,
Absorbs each wish it felt before.
But if affection gently thrills
The soul, by purer dreams possest,
The pleasing balm of mortal ills
In love can soothe the aching breast:
If thus thou comest in disguise,
Fair Venus! from thy native heaven,
What heart, unfeeling, would despise
The sweetest boon the Gods have given?
But, never from thy golden bow,
May I beneath the shaft expire!
Whose creeping venom, sure and slow,
Awakes an all-consuming fire:
Ye racking doubts! ye jealous fears!
With others wage internal war;
Repentance! source of future tears,
From me be ever distant far!
May no distracting thoughts destroy
The holy calm of sacred love!
May all the hours be winged with joy,
Which hover faithful hearts above!
Fair Venus! on thy myrtle shrine
May I with some fond lover sigh!
Whose heart may mingle pure with mine,
With me to live, with me to die!
My native soil! belov’d before,
Now dearer, as my peaceful home,
Ne’er may I quit thy rocky shore,
A hapless banish’d wretch to roam!
This very day, this very hour,
May I resign this fleeting breath!
Nor quit my silent humble bower;
A doom, to me, far worse than death.
Have I not heard the exile’s sigh,
And seen the exile’s silent tear,
Through distant climes condemn’d to fly,
A pensive, weary wanderer here?
Ah! hapless dame! no sire bewails,
No friend thy wretched fate deplores,
No kindred voice with rapture hails
Thy steps within a stranger’s doors.
Perish the fiend! whose iron heart
To fair affection’s truth unknown,
Bids her he fondly lov’d depart,
Unpitied, helpless, and alone;
Who ne’er unlocks with silver key,
The milder treasures of his soul;
May such a friend be far from me,
And Ocean’s storms between us roll!
3.5k
My head is reeling
What a feeling
Bass line pounding through my brain
Skull is cracking
Quite nerve racking
I need something to help dull the pain
Images horrific
Pressure is terrific
Listening to what the station plays
Eyes are burning
The world is turning
It's like it is the end of days
I need to spend some time relaxing
Getting my music back into my head
Listening to ABBA oldies
followed by David Gates and Bread
An afterword or two by Chapin
With The Carpenters along as well
Will help me clear my mind of what's there
And take away the images of hell
KHEL, hour of power
The station of the hour
Killing my braincells by the day
Hard Rock bottom feeders
Rotten Singers, silly bleeders
I don't know why I stay
Thrash and Metal
Brain won't settle
My head is almost set to burst
Glass and Glitter
Makes me twitter
I no longer think disco was the worst
I need to spend some time relaxing
Getting my music back into my head
Listening to ABBA oldies
followed by David Gates and Bread
An afterword or two by Chapin
With The Carpenters along as well
Will help me clear my mind of what's there
And take away the images of hell
Hey There DJ
That's what the kids say
I do it just to help to pay the bills
Super sonic
I need a tonic
To help me swallow down the pain pills
Every morning
Without warning
The pain begins in my head
Metal grating
Music hating
I guess I'll feel alright when I'm dead
I need to spend some time relaxing
Getting my music back into my head
Listening to ABBA oldies
followed by David Gates and Bread
An afterword or two by Chapin
With The Carpenters along as well
Will help me clear my mind of what's there
And take away the images of hell
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 3:53 PM UTC
There she stood
with wobbly knees,
arms limp as a dying flower,
shoulders set to kiss the earth,
hiding within her heart
this nerve-racking,
conspicuously slanderous self-awareness
of being unloved.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC
You used to be so sociable and so cool,
No you just make me sit alone, stare and drool,
Paranoid, scared, every noise makes me turn,
And all of the while in my nose you just burn,
You are there like a shot when I'm weak,
Then in a few hours too para to speak,
I hate you so much and the things you make me do,
**** you ******* yeah you heard, **** YOU!
I want you to leave, no more lines in my life,
Want to be a good husband and Dad to kids and the wife,
You always spoke to the devil inside of me,
And stopped me being the best me
I can be,
Something has changed though and now I can see,
A life without ******* no more you and me,
No more sitting alone, racking and snorting,
Scared of noises, frightened of the phone ring,
Goodbye ******* you're devil's dandruff,
I hate you ******* enough is enough.
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
Tea, the bittersweet companion
Who got me through my classes
And past late-night assignments
Tea, the reason my teeth are stained
And the reason why I'm sane
It was the bitterness of black tea
That took a course through my body
And shut off every racking nerve
Fiber that couldn't keep calm
Tea, my equivalent to a therapist
Who left a mark so clearly that
People will swear it's because
I have poor dental hygiene
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 12:26 AM UTC
They say I’m darkness
Scowl carved into marble face
Blue veins twisting in wrists
Rainy day eyes
And fingers made for pianos and cigarettes
They say I’m misery
Black clothing on pale skin
Nails filed into knives
Lip caught between teeth
Family vacations in cemeteries
He said I’m not the type of girl people look twice at
Forgettable like a forest fire
Beautiful like a dead baby bird
He was trying to be romantic
They say I’m lonely
Poor girl
Always alone
Smile and join us
We need a charity project
They say I’m pity
Brows perpetually furrowed
Lungs perpetually constricting
Sweaty palms glued to walls
They have the nerve to fee sorry for me
Someone once told me
I looked like a tornado
Ripping through the hallways at school
A natural disaster
Racking up a body count
I wonder how many people I’ve made cry
They say I’m intimidation
This noose around my neck scares them
A fashion statement
With my fangs bared and a stare that can ****
I walk
They say I’m music
The sound of high heels on pavement
A broken string on a violin
An angel that was never taught
How to play the harp
Shattered halo at its feet
They say I’m pain
Menstrual cramps squeezing the life out
Of a thirteen year old girl
Blood on underwear
Blood under fingernails
Blood running down thighs
They say I am blood
A gory mess
Scars like tattoos
Scrapped knees like badges
They say I’m darkness
A shadow
Engulfing the world
They need me
To appreciate the light
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 7:20 PM UTC
'Cause you're demons POS's. But DONT WORRY, YOU WILL ONE DAY.
Since youre all demons who gang up to abuse saints, you will be going to Hell. It's your choice. I hope someday I'll see you in Heaven, but I won't be having conversations with you demons anymore, since you have no decency, no respect, and are a waste of time. Once you experience eternal racking of your soul in Hell like I did, maybe you'll have a chance. Good luck.
I won't be talking to ungodly **** anymore. Only those who are Heavenly like me, who bothered to get there. So when you get to Heaven, I'll talk to you then. Till then, Adieu
I showed kindness, but I'm not going to continue to foster your demonistic unrepentance.
Dec 29, 2021
Dec 29, 2021 at 1:20 PM UTC
Unproductivity.
What a silly word.
What a massive waste of time.
While the minutes and even hours race by,
And apparently it’s already July.
The future is coming.
I realize that statement is true yes, but
That doesn’t mean I’m any less scared
That doesn’t mean I’m any less unprepared.
Time moves fast, most of the time that is.
However there are those moments
Where I’m struggling to stay afloat
Resisting the lull of falling behind
Persisting despite my hatred of
My somehow ever-racing mind
I don’t know what to do to slow down
I just need more time, time to breathe.
Time to relax, time to let life pass me by
Maybe just a for a day, where I could get away.
I could leave this town, and avoid
My suffocating obligations
And my equally frustrating
Responsibilities and duties .
And worst of all,
The winner of them all by far,
The anxiety that holds my brain hostage.
Telling me that there’s no time
Yelling at me to focus, to get things done.
But all I can do is sit. There, quietly.
And stare at the wall directly in front of me
For what seems like hours but they’re actually days.
And everything seems to be slipping by.
Minding it’s own business, and I wish it wouldn’t.
I feel as if I’ve lost my tie, my lock to my identity.
The person I thought I used to be
Dedicated and focused.
Is now frustrated and unmotivated
What am I supposed to do?
I suppose, I’ll continue to sit here.
Whether it be at my desk, on my bed.
Racking the ideas and words through my head.
Over and over attempting to
Wait out this unproductivity.
And praying that inspiration
Won’t take much longer
Because I’m afraid I’ve lost what I used to have.
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 4:08 PM UTC
Fred occupies his chair, innocently enough.
Occupying his time by
Solving the crossword puzzle, racking his brain
for the answers.
So all of the letters fit together.
So every space is filled. The beauty of solved Enigmas.
Ten across. Opposite of faithfulness.
The fire consumes the logs. Contained Chaos.
The room is illuminated in frantic light
Emanating from the fireplace.
Flames prevented from yielding to their Natural
Yearning to Disseminate to whatever matter
Will accept them. Fred sits on his chair,
Innocently enough,
But if you look in those
Eyes of his, you will witness the Beauty of
Pain, la Douleur exquise d'amour.
Loving Someone he will, invariably, love and forgive.
A woman
Whose love has changed patterns. Changed
Directions. Altered. There is a string
That hitches his heart to that of his infidel.
His wife. He feels foreign blood impairing
Them. He knows her. Without her telling
Him anything, he knows the Lies in those
Eyes of her. Confirming his knowledge.
Ten across. Infidelity. Means unfaithful.
She walked in moments ago, sat on the
Usual chair in front of him. Fred’s
Heart aches now with the immensity of the
Heartache within his wife.
He feels her heart has been broken
By the same man who usurped her from
Him every Thursday. She would return
[not quite yet]
Home on those days, Disjointed, Distracted. He
Knew this was what Falling in
Love looked like. But today, his wife's
Heart feels different. Her Lover is
Absent from their blood. Fred no
Longer is
Obligated to pump the blood of his
Wife’s flame throughout his own body.
and yet, he feels sorry for her.
feels her suffering.
feels her pain more than his own.
He watches her face, the Sorrow in
Her eyes drinks the flames of the
Fire. Fred can tell she wishes she were
In the flames. Better yet, the
Blaze itself, free from her despondency,
The places her mind must be traveling to.
Fred is fully aware that she is contemplating
Unloading her triste to him. Not for
His own Benefit, to be Honest with him.
Only to assuage her Guilt, to
empty her conscience of
Bad Blood.
She is a sinner. She will sin
Again. No doubt about that. But.
His Infidel.
He cannot stand to see her...
His love...his life...
If someone is spread out before you
Seeking to surrender to Death,
You do not Simply let them die.
Especially if they share half your blood.
Especially if your Happiness is
Contingent upon their survival.
Fred’s wife has a ghostly look on her
Face and he cannot help but save her from
Her caustic thoughts, from the
Consuming pain in her very
Core.
and so he guides
her back to him.
just her wide eyes.
he knows all.
And He forgives her.
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 12:50 AM UTC
It comes suddenly
a storm that rages to fury
bleeding me between your hands,
your mouth,
to where each syllable lost
between midnight’s satin
crests into a crazed madness
where the soft slide hardens
to gripping intentions as my arousal
tastes in jasmine-licked surrenders
like manna
for your hungered heaven
there, where no scream
goes unanswered but only echoed,
you are with me
primal
seared,
the flesh of you wetly hot
to my thundering pulse,
I am surrender laced
with impetuous desires
woven to linger upon your reddened lips
pressed *******
scrape across your flesh
as you moan in greedy adoration
to my whispered frenzy,
“taste me here,
let me feed you
there”
the suckle of your hot mouth
plastered to my ******* fills me
and I am burgeoning
upon graven yearns
here,
I ache in throbbing flames
as your tongue lathes
love’s lick playing tag
to my purr of silken gasps
and breathy mewling cries
in your ears
stating my submission of this
plunging dominance….
I burn…burn
…to inferno
Smiles wreathe pearl
as you revel in my passionate blossom,
your lick peels me wanton
where we are
pooled
shameless and painted,
my torrents are spilled for you
stained and swallowed
greedily
and I,
quivering in the tsunami
that you bequeath to my racking body,
I arch,
reaching that shattering golden gateway
singing joyous to the columns of fate’s
raging wave
Unleashed,
I am
the tide
Where you are damply hollow
and drowning...
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 8:08 PM UTC
All those years worn,
you never did make it outta The Valley,
all those feature film premieres, never did land a starring roll,
or get any recognition, let alone an Oscar from The Academy,
all those foggy eyed groggy times, you were probably high,
all those checks you cashed, for your non refundable time,
waking up one day, wondering where it all went,
driving a car with a lease more expensive your apartment’s,
still stuck in that same apartment, off Ventura Blvd.,
still a B-List actor ******* that A-List ****
still getting haircuts from stylist, still racking up milage,
got more clothes in your closet than dollars in the bank,
& in the end after it’s all said & done & all the time is spent,
& you’re finally spent, what’ll you have left to show for it all?
All those years worn,
spent suspended in mid air, baking in The Valley,
all those times you attended, those feature film premieres,
still no recognition, let alone an Oscar from The Academy..
∆ LaLux ∆
from The Hollywood Hearts Trilogy Vol. 3:
Dark Lights | Bright Shadows
9/9/19
I'm letting it all go, telling it like it is in Hollywood. This book is the one. Get it, or if you can't afford the $3, let me know and I'll buy it for you.
Sep 2, 2019
Sep 2, 2019 at 10:33 PM UTC
to be frank, I never cared for fall
not enamoured by the warm-hued leaves riding the winds as they fall
to the ground where they crunch
too cold for my old mimosa littered brunch
the rain also won’t stop
who could claim this season and for what reason?
I miss the sunlight and the warm embrace of the wind
I miss the stressless summer bliss
instead, here I am racking my head, studying for exams
hoping I can just get back again
to kayaking in the blue, wearing my swim trunks like a tattoo
instead, here I am racking my head, swimming in the deep end
will I drown who knows, thank god I love to idle and float
or else I would be meeting Moby **** when the depression hits
Oct 28, 2021
Oct 28, 2021 at 10:43 AM UTC
There's one cat who meows
in the alleyway but mimics
a fowl dog who ate
larval staged meat. There's
two headless horseman
racking leaves to find their heads
that teenagers rolled
down the country hills.
there's three furry bears
in a cave testing hardness and
softness while four bats
hang backwards to avoid the light. The
five cowgirls had six cowboy hats
each exactly. They're going to run
out if they keep throwing them at
groups of seven boys. Eight dentist chairs
were rolled onto stage so the
nine musketeers,
multiplied by three,
could get ten root canals.
The doctor said he could have
given eleven more of them
but he heard twelve whimpers
of pain and gave up. There were
thirteen bounced checks and fourteen wrinkled
foreheads who were lost in eternity
for fifteen years. Sixteen world banks
filed bankruptcy to drive dollars down.
Seventeen hands were squeezed
from an angel holding glowing
red lips. eighteen hearts and
brains switched spots
anatomically leaving nineteen
grown men sprawled on the
ground like they drank twenty
or so too many.
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 10:28 PM UTC
Goodbye
Disgusting excuse of a friend
A confidant
I used to hold such confidence in,
Now a sickly
Pseudo relationship.
You and I
A Despicable desert dry
Duo
I can't spend another second
At this pathetic pretending
That you can offer anything to anyone
But a narcissistic notion
And a nerve-racking
neuroses of the mind
The universe is out to get you
I curse my oblivious self
I had forgotten you are the single
Cohabiter on Earth
Ah, yes
You are undefeated
At the blame game
I've tried to hold honor in defeat
But, I don't have an ounce of energy left
For your egotistical world
You unhinged
Dark gate
You let your steed of self-obsession
Out to stampede the sincerest hearts
You don't even see the *****
Destruction
You deal out
From your deprived reciprocity
Alcohol, your only ailment
Your **** filled words
Tossed out lament and futile
This is where we go our divided way
I will not claim even a freckle on your face
As a friend
I will not look back
Nostalgia is not necessary
I will detach myself from your
Leach like misery
And I'll slowly build strength back
A blood flow of enraged fierceness
Has circulated through my core
And it will be as if
I never had any bit
Of me
Belonging to you
Friend, now foe
Farewell
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 12:31 AM UTC