"reactive" poems
(A)ltered
(B)oisterous
(I)rrational
(P)anic
(O)ver-reactive
(L)ows
(A)shamed
(R)ollercoaster
(M)ental
(I)mpulsive
(N)on-existent
(D)esperate
The mind is lost on a raft to nowhere...
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 9:45 AM UTC
Somehow your heart enzymes inveigled a way into my system
I surmise it was your energising tongue which smuggled them in
my pseudoanaphylactic longing to snuggle in vein against your protein
its aim a happy interaction tugged by frenzied polypeptide chains
when your petite triglycerides coil avidly around my pH changes
hydrolysis replenishes steroids to stop any pleasure level plunge
so that functional-group transfers may intervene at all active sites
supervising where coenzymes await love's coursing stem cell sights
that photosynthesise my eyes to sensitise to you despite the dark
dancing in all my living cells with infectious smiles an epidemic
when your DNA can't polymerase enough of the audacious lipids
pleasing as they kiss the density away of fatty acids on soft lips
that release protease inhibitors in ways not too selective
so our hearts find their metabolic pathway audaciously live
and offer themselves completely to a frolic in love reactive
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 12:06 PM UTC
I choose,I wait
I wait to choose
These lips are mine
Shall not be kissed
By just anyone
I dream the kiss
I wake and smile
Full of bliss
This quest of mine
Special
Waiting for the right moment
To unfold myself
Such a reactive emotional unit
I hide this kiss from all
Knowing the parts of me it will bring out
I protect it without a doubt
I save it for the one who answers my inner call
That kiss I save...
Yet hide from all~
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
What I'm imagining isn't considered pretty
You don't want to know where you're sitting
What I'm imagining isn't considered pleasant
We're inappropriately using a pheasant
What I'm imagining doesn't go with God
And is laughed at because it's odd
Into my life they peer
Trying to insert fear
My owl head on a swivel
My rabbit ears perked
When people don't act civil
And decency is shirked
I needed answers
For my cancer
I find them in love and pain
They both seem the same
I begin to view the rain
As a type of gain
Everyone knows love's scorn
Which leaves me torn
I can't help but feel my situation differs
Something about the rejection seems stiffer
So I become a shapeshifter
To avoid the hate gifters
To avoid bearing the shame
Of being called names
I know other people have it worse
Sometimes that feels like a curse
I can't gauge the importance of major events
In my life
I don't know whether to think they're intense
Or just right
Maybe I'm just being dramatic
But these instances aren't sporadic
When those that I love
Push and shove
I start to wonder if I'm broken or stained
Until I realize we're all burnt by love's flames
We all have a path to travel
And they're all made of gravel
Our feet become sore
Which affects our core
We find people below us on the totem pole
To know how it feels to treat someone cold
For when our enthusiasm for love has faded
It's easy to become jaded
There are things we're ashamed of
That morph us into something unrecognizable
In which we should be truly ashamed
In the mirror we look the same
But our actions are toxic
We become radioactive
We see where our stock sits
And become merely reactive
And it's hard to find grace
After being punched in the face
But one must remember punches come in all forms
And we must not punch back to survive the storm
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 5:42 AM UTC
You were an acid
Destroying others
Making them nothing
And hungry for more
I was a base
An innocent mind
Eager for adventure
Reactive to a select few
We were neutralised
With me, you were tamed and docile
With you, I was someone new
Our beaker fell off the counter top
And
s ha t t e r e d
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 6:56 AM UTC
*Her prized first bike
came out of a breakfast cereal competition.
Then sped her around London
from lecture to final examination.
Twenty years on it was replaced
by gleaming white and black carbon.
Bought, lacking in memories
faster, lighter with a baby seat for Bethan.
Fitness, a priority this year
swimming in the pool, open water and the sea.
Clare selected a running coach
cycling home at an ever higher cadence for tea.
Happy, with her performance
in her very first event as a triathlon novice.
A second, saw Clare pedaling faster
to race past fellow competitors with ease.
In her last competition she was pictured lithe
on posters promoting reactive sports glasses.
Winning a new Felt racing bike, seats in the VIP stand
for the Tour de France finish and her fit lasses-ass*.
My congratulations dear hero...
Jun 25, 2010
Jun 25, 2010 at 10:26 AM UTC
anorexia and binge eating disorder
depression and OCD
reactive attachment disorder
sexually assaulted
sensory processing disorder
suicidal
abused
neglected
hostile
resentful toward mother figures
fearful of father figures
cutter
people pleaser
desire to be perfect
high expectations for herself
lost
"im not sure how i am going to help you. but i will do my best" -she says
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 11:11 PM UTC
There's chemistry between us
It's written on your face
We're feeling the reaction
It's because I've been displaced.
We work together,
Like an equation,
Stuck here forever,
I can't escape
Now that I've been replaced,
It's a shame, I'm a disgrace
I am not as reactive
I am, well, just misplaced
Maybe our bond was made to be broken.
Maybe I'm supposed
To completely decompose.
Maybe I'm strong, but I don't want to show it
Maybe of something greater I'm composed.
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 5:30 PM UTC
Concrete full of blood
Skies, smoke-filled clouds
Poison, don't you see
INDUCING VOMITING
Of every freedom you hold
Incubators, landfills
For
Food deserts
Soul Scavengers
Bullet and knife showers
Parentless parents
Starving children
Hotbeds for addiction
Metropolises
Harvesting humans like ants
Where democracy manufactures
Oppressed consumers out of the masses
Majority starving for death
Poison, don't you see
INDUCING VOMITING
Of every freedom you hold
Those borders you revere
Hijacking your body and mind
Legislating no burning of the flag
Where they clean their blood-drenched hands on
Can you tell what side your on
When you agree, they hold a different nationality
When can there be actual solidarity?
Profets of freedom, alienating OUR power to be
When in doctrine, legislature, and policy
Hierarchizing who deserves to be free
In contempt, not compliance
In pain, not numb
Reactive, not inactive
Burning, boiling, shivering
Out of injustice
Poison, don't you see
INDUCING VOMITING
Of every freedom you hold
How can you keep suffering,
When you face the truth
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 10:21 PM UTC
Attitude problem.
what social media cannot tell us.
as if you're the center of the universe,
and your feelings does not pass.
Being reactive
you thought, makes you smarter,
Being reactive,
tends to be your bread and butter.
You tend to magnify
those little small things.
but you forget the proper values,
as seen on the rusts of your bearings.
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 9:58 PM UTC
Neurons passing the Cosmic Sting ,
Structure Cerebral Station in space ....
Each of her rhythmic string symphonies love ballet ,
Heart stops bleeding hearing the tune........
Distance force brain sent neurotransmitters ,
Thus fading away all their emotions .
Sweet memories lost in camouflage .
Separated bodies failed to collide into one soul ...
Love beyond time, her dopamine creates bond to reactive ,
And his burning soul reenergized, formed into pure gold, shaped into a ring ,
with a pink diamond as her passion holding in the middle.
The beams of light, shines through her eyes showing right direction ,
Her every breathe flowing his pegasus through galaxies from several light years ,
reaching the ultimate destiny, the heart of his lost soulmate......
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 7:50 PM UTC
I'm really sick.
Like ***** is going to come out of my mouth--
an eruption of **** from my ears is due.
I've laid too long dormant
and one by one the hot spots of my petty jealousy,
indignation, and
mistrust are at boiling points:
The Ring of Fire, they call it.
Yellowstone
I'm the ********* Yellowstone caldera.
The great rim,
****** up and blister scarred,
knock-kneed from falling out of bed in nightmares,
weird from the predisposition to volcanic shittiness
(not in a romantic way)
but none the less active,
or reactive.
This vexation is as old as grinding plates.
This repulsion is as old as the poisoning of Aristotle
My head is the Spartan scythe
because I'm a new sign in an old world.
I use old signs to poison this newly dug well between us
But not well can I keep this message
banner
******* billboard to myself.
So let me just wrap the code from ear to ear,
in plain text where you can see
the cypher: **** your red dress.
You see,
those blisters are the gravity between White Dwarves
pulling at skin, and earth, and ending thrown halfway across the universe.
I knew I'd seen you before,
there at the edge of the Oort Cloud
where we tell people we just met:
I stopped eating
I was hurt once
I was ugly too
and no one was really listening.
You and the rest of our red dresses meant too little.
But still then why do you whine over the hungry, and hurt, and ugly
and spit in my face for being there at the Edge,
and for loving the thrill in listlessness,
the passion in mundanity?
And that ******** about the shallowness of victims?
You didn’t learn a thing
traveling and trusting and falling out of beds.
Your drunken honesty is your sober lack of layers.
This isn’t a far reach of space,
your torn dress and cork heels won't work here.
Don’t bring that littleness here,
you're the only one not really listening now.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 12:25 AM UTC
A photographer stands
Shutter cable in hand.
An image is beating
On his camera door
Not demanding entrance
Light, energy is indifferent
But continually present
And changing.
He thinks he saw something
His machine can capture
On a thin reactive pellicule.
But chemistry only keeps
A part of the whole
Pulsing available spectrum,
And the image emerging
Later in a darkened room
Is, of course,
A fraction.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 11:49 PM UTC
The glass of wine spins on sins
Encircling the royal roulette
All rotating on a hamster wheel
Pinned on canvas and illusional walls
So tiny in errors and unbalanced books
Unaccounted annotated distributions
Twisting hands on colluded coils
Deeper projections from the heart
An eruption of the social notions
Extracted on the paradise of life
For no truth echoes authenticity
Eccentrically finding a lived reality
Plato symposiums and simulacrums
Pavlov trails of social conditioning
Sampled in tented objectifications
Functioning within the invisible rules
We sniffle as we expose the false actuality
Reactive explosions from robust heat
Unloaded rods dancing under the moon
In our tenderness rejecting the paradigm
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC
Potassium is my name,
I'm dangerous in open air,
so they hide me away in shame,
I'm light,
you can cut me,
but I am toxic,
explosive,
and very reactive,
and that's what's brought me to fame,
so if you remember one thing,
just one thing,
remember I burn with a Lilac flame.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 5:23 PM UTC
A poet is not perfect although some claim to be
Scribblers of thought watchers of humanity
Pen every emotion fill it with devotion
Ride waves of passion chaotic like the ocean
A poet is not perfect with more than eyes we see
What's hidden what lies between prophecy
Future unfolding the past we keep holding
Now keeps rolling do you remember where you're going?
A poet is not perfect hmm what does this mean?
From life experience write a scene
Words forever blending combinations never ending
Translation of thought keeps message sending
A poet is not perfect neither is humanity
Speakers of truth live on edge of sanity
Recognize what's broken book wide open
Read between lines multiply the hoping
A poet is not perfect many strive to be
Most fall victim to vanity
Born reactive to the attractive
Divided emotion feeling subtracted
A poet is not perfect or what you might think
One universal mind flowing in sync
Alarm goes off wake from sleep
Piece together broken with perfect poetry we speak...
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 6:24 PM UTC
Relativity
Sensibility
If you ain't got perspective
And you ain't reactive
Then you aren't proactive
These words only have meaning
If you make them meaningful
Advice
should be a vice
Get your daily dosage
So in your old age
You can be part of the new age
The thoughts of many
Has wisdom uncanny
If you ain't ready
And you aren't steady
Then you lose yourself
To the crowd
Aug 8, 2011
Aug 8, 2011 at 12:15 AM UTC
Hidden coves of love disguised by cold eyes
Chances not yet given.
Angry tones escape tooth filled holes
Drilling dissent through another's soul.
Selfish is the only answer,
yet not an excuse.
Forgive the fool.
He is you
She is I
We are one.
Negative polarities combusting innocent eyes.
Lost in the essence of the moment.
This is an apology for the mournful cries.
forgive the fool
he is you
she is I
we are one.
distinct beings intertwined amongst the influx
passengers and neighbors, reactive tension
impulses of separation.
pause for a moment. breath together.
similar beings galvanized by difference
nutrition for acceptance.
forgive the fool
he is you
she is I
we are one.
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 11:53 AM UTC
There is no floor
Below the water there is sand and dust
My feet disappear below the mist
And below that is a floor of nothing.
Lock and key, relative conductivity
Separation of anxieties
Generally elementary
Universal energy
Scientific inquiry
Empirical discovery
What a bunch of crap.
I bathe in fake white plastic
I swim in silent smiles
Dionysian warfare paintings
Classical textual narrating
Fitness, happiness, soporific movies
Genial tendencies, braced for ingenuity
Waiting for a paroxysm to bring forth neologisms
That test the boundaries of scientific truth
That recapture the errant minds of youth
We could make new buildings or lose a tooth
I hold the latter higher than that
I tilt the ladder there and back
Assiduous and wont, *** for tat
All a game, a joke at that
Your domain, provoked and trapped
Impressionistic spinal taps
On canvases of green and black
All from within cerebral shacks
Wind hammers palm trees on windowpanes
Wind tears down houses, rips apart planes
Wind doesn't move me, yet seems urbane
It's so jejune, it's all the same
I'm tired and lonely, powder remains
Pink like reagents in reactive flames
Quick like catalysts jumping inane
Frontal lobes retired my brain.
Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 12:02 PM UTC
I had received the request
Thing I am used to process
But now it was quite different
For he was only three years old
*** testing commonly for adults
Who usually take risky behaviors
As sharing needles and multiple ***
But no not this innocent angel so fragile
The boy smiles as he looked at me
Seemed quiet when I extracted blood
I expect nothing serious for this a test
A requirement for a foreign adoption
Yet my heart was in a silent pain
When the result turns *** reactive
I retested it more than three times
But reality unveil the truth at hand
The poster mum was sadden
As she hopes the boy will find
A home with parents so kind
With future safe and secure
The silent pain surges inside
This conscience as witness
To all the agonies suffered
By those infected with ***
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 4:47 AM UTC
Heaven, heaven is one breath away! Heaven, heaven is someone’s array of death and decay. May I say? The havens and heavens above is a way for the doves and for its love. For the day, the gay, the gray, the prey, the stray, the Sundays and sunrays! Heaven, heaven is a hideaway, a passageway, a safe way, a sway away! Heaven, heaven
is basically, eccentrically, theoretically and poetically for some of the
awesome that blossom! It’s an anthem or a poem! It’s fearsome, it’s freedom and a kingdom of wisdom! Heaven, heaven is a place of face, grace, race and trace. It’s full of allure and demure! It’s rest and a test assured! Where, there you can invest the best and insure your problems can be cured! Heaven, heaven’s characterized cries and eyes! The flies, the lies, the prize in disguise! Its skies, ties, the whys and the
wise. Footprints and imprints of ancient legends of heroes, Negroes and Neros of long, long ago! Heaven, heaven’s gorgeous doorsteps! Yep! Its havens grand, take a stand. Many brands, many hands, many
strands of many sands! Heaven, heaven is enormous and glamorous! It’s where adjacent, impatient humorous, numerous followers throng and prolong! The bleak, meek, the weak, the strong and wrong! There
is where, reactive in proactive citizens and frail senior citizens hail and sail! They prevail as they unveil! They thrive and throng to there,
where righteous, brightness belongs. Heaven, heaven all adhere and hear! The allowed, the followed, the hallowed, the supreme cloud towers and gracious powers! Heaven, heaven basked and tasked by thy masked gleam. Aside, inside it seemed I was alone…
As I cried, as I sighed! Tied in wonder, under the heaven’s throne of wonder! In blunder, as I wondered if I were dead? Instead, black crows in rows, attacked and flew over my head! Squawking, talking, flying asunder, with plunder, plunder, under the thunder, thunder! Definitely bringing me to my knees! Infinitely squawking, talking, flying around me with ease, glee and tease! Please heaven, heaven!
For instance in the distance... It’s dreamingly and seemingly quaint you see! Faint sounds of angel’s hymning and rhyming! Their heavenly, heavenly, singing, ringing triumphantly, triumphantly! Although, through the distance and persistence in time; we to will hopefully and loyally dine. Dine in thrill, on the heaven, heaven’s divine! Amen all children, men and women, heaven, heaven amen.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 10:12 PM UTC
God is teaching me
how to not be so
reactive
that **it is okay
to walk away**
without explanation
that **i don't have to
explain myself
to anyone**
because **he already knows my heart
completely**
he is teaching me
to let go
of the things of this world
and hold on tight
to my relationship with him
and not my relationships
with others
because i feed off of
the energy of the people
i surround myself with
and i don't always
surround myself
with positive people
he has taught me that
if i feed off of people
instead of him
that i will always
be left feeling hungry
so this is my surrender.
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 4:14 AM UTC
Yea verily
The Movers and Shakers are society’s paveway makers.
They recognise a need, feel a cause and initiate action.
These people make things happen, they are the driving force in our society.
By virtue of their very nature, they are rarely perfect,
they have backgrounds and have, invariably, at some some stage of their life,
trodden on the daisies.
Our society could not do without these people.
They are a rare minority and because of their positivity and momentum
They make enemies.
The enemy of the Movers and the Shakers are the Naysayers and the Finger Pointers.
The Naysayers and Finger Pointers are the reactive side of society.
They rarely initiate and rarely expose themselves to the spotlight.
They fester in the shadows in their masses and froth into braying criticism
Which may, or may not, develop into righteous finger pointing and condemnation.
(Depending, of course, on the issue at hand and the degree of hysteria generated.)
The Naysayers and Finger Pointers are society’s negatives.
(They would say that they are society’s necessary checks and controls…
Which perhaps, to some degree they are.)
The realm of the Tall Poppy Syndrome is the perfect territory for Naysayer/Finger Pointer operation.
It provides the right mix of avarice, envy and vengeance to blend clandestinely beneath a covering cloak of righteous indignation.
And it provides the symbiotic platform for mass reaction from the great unwashed.
I note that Mayor Bob Parker and benefactor Sir Owen Glenn are the latest recipients of negative onslaught.
The Mayor has just announced that, after many years of public service, he has had a guts full of the braying abuse and is throwing in the towel.
I sincerely hope that he retires with wealth and lovely wife and that he bathes in the satisfaction of his many, many achievements…well away from the accusing crowd.
And if I was Sir Owen Glenn, I would abruptly cancel the offered, generous, $2 million finance for the Anti Domestic Violence Campaign
and with fierce eye tell the Naysayers and Finger Pointers of New Zealand society to go stuff themselves… then turn and walk away, never to return.
Marshalg
Pukehana Paradise
AUCKLAND
5 July 2013
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 4:28 PM UTC