"reassembling" poems
You Sir, Are An Electrician!
**technocrat
— noun
a proponent, adherent, or supporter of technocracy.**
This city boy was expert at
Turning the lights on,
Unlocking the front door,
Putting new batteries in flashlights,
And calling the handyman to
"Please come upstairs"
When the degree of diving difficulty was a
Positive number.
Also,
Freezing the semi-permanently the DVR,
Triggering alarms,
Killing car batteries,
Making laptops question
Human sanity,
Tearing up when reading,
"Some Assembly Required!"
Raised in a city of experts,
He was unskilled in things electric,
Becoming apoplectic,
When a device had an
On/off switch that ignored him.
Somewhat famous he was,
For engaging the inanimate,
In a verbal dialectic,
Which included words highly phonetic,
But unsuitable for children's ears.
She was raised in rural pastures,
Corn fields used for hide n' go seek,
Riding goats after school
Just for fun,
Familiar with innards of
Deus ex machina, a/k/a
Minor engine repairs, and
Doing what he called,
Making reparations.
IOS7, heaven.
Cabling laptop to external devices,
Icing on the cake,
Dis and reassembling a German coffee maker,
Did not require calling an 800 number.
She never read an instruction sheet
Without pleasurable laughing at
Japanese English.
He was unashamed of his skilled
Unskilled characteristics,
For such is the way of the world
In the human kingdom,
Some of us two handed,
some of us, bi-standers.
But upon occasion,
He would bemoan his fate,
Decry his inability to survive
On a post-apocalyptic Earth,
Like the people on tv and movies.
Periodically he would grow morose,
Listless, at his inability to adapt to a
Point Oh world.
Uncomprehending
Icons and symbols whose meaning
Were wholly unintuitive,
He secretly ashamed of his need for
technological ******
She would sense his frustration,
Wipe away his inner condensation,
Climbing into his lap,
Whispering the following:
**You sir, are an electrician
of words, a verbal technocrat,**
Plumber of the depths where
Few fear to tread, explorer of the head,
Restorer of human paintings unmatched,
Without your ilk,
this world would be unbearable,
Your heart's warming silk
Comforts bodies and souls,
Speaking from experience personal.
Then, she flicked his
On/Off switch,
On.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC
Sometimes when I look at myself
all I can see is
ugly
worthless
****
I learned this from you.
You taught me that nothing I ever did was good enough
not for you
or anyone else
I would never be enough
Most importantly, you taught me what love is
That to love someone
I have to give away everything I am
my confidence
my body
my self-worth
until I am only an empty shell of a person
so they can hold power over me
Sometimes
when I can’t find these pieces of me
I can see your face
contorted with rage
insistent, pleading until I obey
or
smirking, condescending
I can hear your voice
*you can’t wear that, you look like a ****
I’m the only one who really loves you
*I did it for you, you owe me*
I don’t owe you anything.
I taught myself how to love who I am
Reassembling all the pieces that you stole from me
took everything I had but
I am beautiful.
I am loveable.
I am worth something.
No one can ever change that.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
The man was smart. The animals,
watching, knew it. The shattering
glass of the universe felt the opposition,
and the understanding was the result
of a fiendish ambition. There was a
recording. It time, there was a healing
record; it reached for the few left unwell.
They were floundering until it was
discovered to be the shape of things
drawn with ink. The deception of empty
hands, which refused to let them drink
the clean water also offered to slay
the daughter. This forced them all to
worry about forensic relics and lumps of
shattered trust. Love was hidden away
for the sake of uninterrupted safety.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 8:12 PM UTC
I have felt like an outsider
Ever since my childhood ended
When I was left with a gaping
Hole carved by the one who loved me.
And I know he adores me still
But he is too far away now
That I cannot reciprocate
His feelings. Though I do admit,
I allow myself to succumb
To nostalgia once in a while.
My true friend gone, I bounced around
Different groups of people trying
To find my place in a sea of
Jealousy and competition.
I'm so thankful I got to know
The ones I did because they were
Beautiful and fascinating
In their own distinctive manner.
For a while I thought I found one
But I soon began to realize
That I had been brainwashed into
Thinking that I loved these people,
When really I didn't know them
And they didn't care to know me.
My world shattered and so did I;
Frantically trying to pick up
The pieces so I could be whole.
But my memories and thoughts of
The past eighteen years were too much
For me to pick up on my own.
One day while blindly moving in
The dark, I ran into one of
You who found a part of me on
The ground. You seemed to recognize
A shattered soul so you grabbed some
Glue and you called your friends asking
For help reassembling me.
Together, you made the cracks not
As obvious to those who looked;
But every time I peered in the
Mirror, there they were distorting
The image of myself and those
Around me. But before you could
Repair that, we all went away
To separate places and I had
To try and fix the cracks myself.
But I only had so many
Hands so I built an elaborate
Device to keep me intact as
I mended each imperfection.
And that's how he found me, trying
To fix something he was convinced
Wasn't broken in the slightest.
He unhooked me from the device
Then set me down and forced me to
Look at myself in the mirror.
For the first time in a long time
I saw my face and all of yours
Smiling in the reflection as
If to say "Now do you see us?"
All that's left is to remember
I must check the mirror every
So often so I can see your
Faces full of love and support
And see that I am not alone
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 10:17 PM UTC
plead your case. the silence that follows will deafen your prayers... it will eat your rain.
tread where smoke has layed eggs in a nest of flames.
use your thoughts nimbly, and thereby, climb the ladder madly
humbly gone by love, my love.
humbly gone
by love.
these are not the words in my mouth. they are god's frogs. a soft plague of cecil b. demille with ampibians and barbedwire. these are not the fickle neptunes in dischord. you are not the last unicorn. only the basilisk in my zodiac. my marvelous queen.
these are not the feathers of a proud crane. but a wrecking ball reassembling a dandelion with a leather whip and a chair. they tumble from my limbic intimacy with your private lies. i bring genuine venom to cure blindness; but i leave an antidote under my tongue should your kisses beg to be a fool.
i won't say what this is.
i have bruises where your name left a dent in my kevlar.
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 8:47 AM UTC
gyrating harmonies intertwined
a thousand wordless dreams
expressed in reassuring grasps
of cool fingers
and feathered kisses.
floating in space
caught in the mist of a nebula
body split into a million particles --
breathing out
and reassembling.
two bodies juxtaposed.
familiar yet foreign.
passed down by multitudes of humanoid ancestry
-- but individually poignant, each moment a tangible wisp of memory.
secrets whispered in shaky breaths
borne on the back of vulnerability.
broken into pieces of raw soul.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 3:44 PM UTC
there is a long pink road
lime trees walk its path in judgement
twists of dazzling colors
zigzag through
unclaimed silences
coaxing a belief in magic
dismantling and reassembling minds
i remove one eyelid then the other
there is an immediate
diaphanous color of red
a flimsy dimness
that shows an escape route out of time
displaying the fragmented mosaic
of my disordered mind
scarlet watches me
searching my face
trying to seek out
a geography yet to be discovered
i feel an overexposed rhythm
of alpha spirals
they collide with the colors
among the lime trees
a coca-cola bottle
smashes somewhere
I hear the secret song
played in the time of the assassins
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 1:56 PM UTC
There is a fair bit of you in every garden of my life.
Truly, that is nothing extraordinary, you should know it as objectively as I do.
Nevertheless, there is something I’d like to clarify:
When I say "in every garden”,
it is not only in relation to this of now,
this of waiting for you, of hoorah! i found you!, and ****** i lost you!,
and found again, and hopefully stops there.
Nor in regard of you suddenly telling me "I’m going to cry”,
then with a discrete lump in my throat "well go ahead”.
And then a graceful invisible rainfall arrives to assist us,
perhaps the reason the sun rises unhesitatingly right after.
I’m not just referring either
at the day-to-day fluctuation of the stock in our little decisive complicities,
or that I could or believe I can turn my deficiencies to victories,
or of you to bestow upon me the tenderest gift of your most recent despair.
No.
The situation is more serious.
When I state “in every garden” I mean to say that in addition to that sweet cataclysm,
you are also rewriting my childhood,
that age when one utters "grown up” and solemn phrases,
and the solemn grown ups celebrates them,
and conversely, you think of it irrelevant.
What I mean to say is,
you are reassembling my adolescence,
that time when I was an old man full of insecurities,
and contrarily, you know how to extract from there,
my germ of joy and consciously spread it.
What I mean to say is,
you are stirring my youth,
that vain vessel no one took hold of, that proud shade no one got close to,
and you on the other hand knows very well how to shake it
until the autumn leaves start falling
till there is nothing but the flesh of my triumphless truth.
What I mean to say is,
you are grasping my maturity,
that mixture of stupor and experience,
this unknown horizon of fear and certainty,
this relentless faith on my questionable strength.
As you can see, it is serious,
extremely more serious.
Because with these or different words,
I mean to say you are not only,
the dearest girl you are,
but also the splendid and cautious* women that I love and have loved.
Because thanks to you E, I have understood,
(you’d say it was about time, and with reason),
that love, is a beautiful and generous bay, that lightens and darkens as life goes by,
a bay where ships arrive and break away,
they arrive with blossoms and presages,
and they part with krakens and storm clouds.
A beautiful and generous bay where ships set down and then leave,
But E, you, please don’t leave.
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 2:14 AM UTC
A little rest
It's been a long hard road
You're tired and you deserve it
So lay back
Let the sounds fill your head
Marvel
At how they seep into your body
Like a pure drug
And lift your spirit
Find a soft pillow
I'll stand watch
As you tear it all down
When it gets too hard
When you fear letting go
And the sights to see
On the other side of the wall
You're tearing down
Let me be your fortress
Together we will gather
The broken pieces of your days
And I will slowly put them back together
Just slowly enough
For you to feel the love
That comes in my reassembling
And leave behind
Everything that tore them apart
Everything that tore them apart
I will cause you to forget
As we lay
As we melt into one each other
As we melt into earth
Flesh of My flesh
Bone of My bone
One seed
Planted by Death
To sprout and grow
Into new life
In a new garden
Settle your thoughts
Receive calm for your shattered nerves
Though they are shot
I will ride shotgun
I am love
This world is a mirror
You see it as in reverse
The reality:
Reap
Sow
Plant
I am the Farmer
I love you
Because you know Me
For what I am
You know
That I am not Grim
That my sickle serves a purpose
It's blade, sharp and shiny
A two edged sword
Brings you to this place
Where enlightenment never dims or fades
We will ride it together
Until harvest has come
You and I will be One
Until we both realize
We've got a spare rib
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 6:42 PM UTC
My forever is tossed in dark and bright
Waiting for you and immortality
But who would breathe in heaven
Then plunge into the deep
Should I look beyond
Or empty all my secret pain
Into all I sought to keep
The frozen earth once caught me smiling
At times when I liked it there
In any situation when I should be
Hurt and trembling
If I am cold, I paint on a smile
Put my life into the sun
Start reassembling
Sometimes I sit and stare at thoughtlessness
Then watch my day rewinding
Wonder why my forever is dark and bright
Words of comfort I refuse
I just watch them twirl and float
Surely letting nothing stain
All that is confused
I am now absorbing all the dark and bright
The wind blows into my forever
A raging wildfire breathes in heaven
Will I plunge into the deep
Or will I look beyond
To empty all my secret pain
I can no longer keep
Mar 16, 2011
Mar 16, 2011 at 7:15 PM UTC
Slowly reassembling your brain, one syllable at a time....
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 1:21 PM UTC
Reassembling the pieces shattered on inconvenience,
Smoking my lucky,
Trying to imagine what the taste of your lips would be like against a shattered nose,
Blacking out and bleeding profusely for my beliefs and opinions,
What a time to thrive,
What a time to thrive,
WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE, MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS,
Waking up on the floor with a black eye, holding on to the floor; the only solid thing left in my world,
To the progress made and to the progress I have left to make,
Sipping fine wine and then chugging what's left of the pack of PBR,
Getting wasted on my youth and everything involving it,
A drunken recipient of happiness and sadness all at the same time,
What a ******* mess we have made,
I just hope the cleanup doesn't take as long as the mess did to make,
Even if you don't look back, be sure to know who was there and where they've gone now,
******* white and pitch black,
My worst fears, my worst fears,
I am just learning,
I have given so much hell,
Don't stop talking to me, I haven't been listening
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 1:49 PM UTC
French language has no direct translation for "I miss you." Instead, it is "tu me manques" which literally means "you are missing from me."
Missing,
as in Removed,
as in Absent.
As in ribcage
with one bar gone.
As in bathtub for one.
As is poetic justice,
or returning home
to a broken toaster
and a goldfish with its belly to the sun.
As in waking up in Brooklyn
to find you already in Manhattan.
Each night
I drop my bed a little lower on its frame.
The mattress a little closer to the floor.
Makes mourning
feel less like falling.
And falling,
more like reassembling.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 5:14 AM UTC
My body thirsts for you.
I'm enslaved by you
that I have no space
for anything else.
Words, imagery, prose
no longer quench
the desire in me.
I quiver at the thought
of opening myself to you,
of you tasting the dew
from my petal,
gradually coming undone
only to have you gather me,
piece by piece,
reassembling me until
I become the girl
you yearn to possess.
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 3:48 PM UTC
The pieces of glass
That have fallen on the floor
Were from the shattered glass pane
That was your trust
I was tapping, tapping, tapping on the glass
Testing you
Seeing how much pressure you could take
But then, I tapped much too hard
And just like a window
The glass pane exploded
Sending shards of false trust everywhere
Cutting you and me
The pieces of glass
Lying on the floor
Are much to small to pick up and put back together
So you say, "What's the point?"
And I reply, "There is no point.
But as we rebuild our friendship
The glass seems to pick itself up, reassembling into a thinner pane this time
While I cannot resist tapping the glass, inserting my lies,
This time I will not break it.
Dec 29, 2017
Dec 29, 2017 at 11:26 PM UTC
It's been an eternity!
Since I gave you a piece of me
My limbs have been torn in a million directions
But now I've made precise revisions and corrections
I promise I've missed you more than you could possibly know
There is only one definable way that I could even minutely show
Just how significant and crucial you are to reassembling the pieces of me
And that is to once again, let you be the muse of my inspired heart felt poetry
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 11:23 AM UTC
Falling in reverse
At a speed faster than lightning
The rapidity of the fall is overwhelming
This absence of order
Where is it leading me to
Will it ever cease to torment
Birthing a nicotinic habit
Nauseated
I can't seem to rid of this stench of impurity
Tell them to not bother feeding me reason or positivity
There is no emotion to make it sink in
In the hollow that is my being
Their words echo & die out without impact
One month was all I could afford
Then the inevitable crumbling of the clumsily put together puzzle
Futility in my attempts at reassembling
The puzzle pieces no longer fit.
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 4:11 PM UTC
#the forming of substance 04
Stephan W
*"For years I’ve wanted to live
according to everyone else’s morals.
I’ve forced myself to live like everyone else,
to look like everyone else.
I said what was necessary to join together,
even when I felt separate.
And after all of this, catastrophe came.
Now I wander amid the debris,
I am lawless, torn to pieces,
alone and accepting to be so,
resigned to my singularity and to my infirmities.
And I must rebuild a truth–
after having lived all my life in a sort of lie."
~Albert Camus*
~
*Worlds apart,
there is a tension
an alienation--
now, strangers-
in a not so strange land
So many parts..
fighting the glow
fighting each other-
These parts, hiding--
From having to be seen- when needed,
From the pain of
having to need the other parts
who also are so unable,
From the visibility--
from having to be asked to join in-
to the process of
an integrated internal functioning;
the metabolizing of things.
From the pain of it all-
and the despondency that will come
from any attempt
to even try.*
~ ~
*The spirit--
its dimly-lit distant memories
of a wholly different time
now afraid to ingrain itself
into a body- that is as of yet
wholly unable to even know itself--
Fragmented parts of the heart;
broken spirit,
a lonely longing-
There is a division
a separation
immersed in a dank mist of fear--
Parts-- nearly touching
but, so unable to see..
or even feel each other in the dark
And the greatest loneliness
becomes the one that is lived within oneself--
An unlived-living
within the broken internal-world
of fragmented parts-
now huddled into remote corners
with such large spaces in between;
parts, isolated from
other parts.*
~ ~ ~
*One day they will no longer be
so afraid of each other--
Even in its dimly-lit state of being,
the spirit yearns for a cohesiveness,
a wholeness--
a re-integration of all the parts;
a reassembling.
Until that time, everything will be partial;
dis- assembled
fragmented.*
#
Sep 30, 2020
Sep 30, 2020 at 10:41 PM UTC
she pens a thank you note, for my stealing inspiration from her observation,
to create a “beautiful bundle of words”
my vocabulary acquired by just hanging around this planet of aged years,
(hirsute, multifarious, repacked packets of globbed and gloated pins and notions),
is minimally useful in the arced architecture of reassembling a new combination
that pretends to be a beautiful bundle of words, a nouveau riches,
a poem rearrangement is only addition but that a new poem, does not make
to make a creation, one requires
a beautiful bungle of words,
each tripping upon the next, somehow discordantly harmonious,
a humorous pin ***** sordid that moves the lips into an O shape light emitting,
“why in the hell did not I think of that”
if it makes sensible than it’s likely just recombinant, i.e. a used car
if it makes sensitive as if it’s a new cry, unheralded unheard and
the first newborn among its peerage
bungle your pictionary mistakable notions from fumes of intoxication
stumble into a new theorem predicting the relativity of the impossible,
combine cross pollinations, fish and fowl, meat and milk, stench and best,
faucet drips of hurricane magnitude, draw insights from inside a child’s vision,
and say to yourself repeatedly,
this is how I bungle breathing into new poems,
this is how I birth beautiful
Mar 10, 2019
Mar 10, 2019 at 3:20 PM UTC
So scraps are what I have to show
Find myself amidst the undertow
A pathetic pile of perfumed dreams
Like pretending life is greater than it seems
This multiverse molded with illusions and tricks
To knock you down just for kicks
Nothing glamorous about depression
A void that leaves the deepest impression
Feeling like rocks loaded onto my back
As if gravity is out of whack
Attempting to rise off the floor
Each movement leaves muscles sore
Past mistakes written in blood
Try but fail washing away with a flood
So sick and tired staying the same
Doubt and fear the scapegoats to blame
Reasons irrelevant nevertheless
Little extra effort might lead to success
I am aware everything is bound to fall apart
One by one shards will chip off my heart
I attempt reassembling it with some glue
To give it away like deja vu
These choices I cannot explain
Behavior proof I must be insane
Wasting more minutes than I have to spare
Fish out of water and I'm gasping for air
Can't you see I'm drowning?
A sea of my regrets
Ghosts dancing on horizon staring at their silhouettes
I think about years I continue to let slip through my hands
I'm so exhausted chasing answers to a puzzle I don't understand
Scared to admit this the extent of what I'll become
Wonder if I'll ever escape the place that I am from
I yearn to love now like I loved back then
Believe in magic and forever again
But hopeful naivete faded along with the sparkle in my eye
Like while I've been in limbo best opportunities passed me by
In a cerebral cage confidence confined by bars
Self-acceptance shackled by a multitude of scars
I am sorrier than lips will ever audibly speak
Unsure if my dungeon will let me discover the exit I desperately seek
This nightmare of creation darkens at an alarming rate
Need to wake up from this coma I'm in before it is too late
Feb 10, 2025
Feb 10, 2025 at 1:27 AM UTC
1.
The darkness fled before me
While I stayed in the light
The black covering both land and sea
Destroying sight.
Basking in the heat, burning in the sun
We toasted the darkness, once it had gone.
God had said, wringing out his curls, ‘let there be light’,
Clearly, the dark came first.
But god floundered at night
And darkness he thunderingly accursed.
It was sent temporarily away
While god fashioned ‘Day’.
Yet, the dark was firstborn
The preferred planned child
And visually undernourished and presciently worn
Was the expected, the ideal, not the reviled;
Day was only a change of mind
God, the twister, making us see when we are blind.
2.
It was of an infinite hue, purple not black
Deepening towards the centre, consuming everything
A materialisation of Lacan’s Lack
Without substance, pleasure or pain.
It delved in and out in senseless monotony
Heightening sensation here, there performing a lobotomy.
At times, it reflected me and then it reflected you
Assembling features, and reassembling,
But never with every ****** nuance true
It shuffled several, naturally dissembling,
Unable to be fixed. It pretended to be human,
But like you and me, it shuffled like a golem.
Flying away it came back with equal velocity
Opening its imagined maw
Emitting as it approached tongues of electricity
Through time it tore.
Past and future congealed into a putty-like mass
Dying with the light, it disappeared up my ***
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 8:31 AM UTC
All of us treated them like lovers,
meticulously disassembling
them as if hypnotized,
caressing each part
with special lubricant
& laying out the pieces
like a rock collector.
We'd take our
own sweet time
reassembling them,
part by part,
snapping & sliding,
building
our killing machines
to completion.
Then to test our work,
we'd **** and release
and squeeze,
to hear the distinctive
click of a dry fire.
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
Love is a dangerous weapon
Overcoming hate, it creates
Vain attempts, broken hearts
Eternal medicine for peace
You influenced me the most
On every occasions I lost myself
Unveiled the honest essence
Mourning for the lost ones
One day, I’ll realize with pain
To take out my soul and breathe
Haven’t you cried as I stormed out
Even the gains set flames in me
Remembering your warmth
Found pieces of your shattered heart
Over and over, I’ll regret to tell you
Reasons that don’t matter anymore
Every time to see that smile faded
Verifying that it exists on that face
Enabling my heart to pound hope
Reassembling, love you mother forever
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 1:36 AM UTC
I used to love puzzles
The idea of tearing something so complete apart and then reassembling it was the most romantic idea
But ever since I met you I never liked them as much any more
You are like a virus; you inject yourself into the veins of humanity and contaminate the world’s blood for eternity
You are nothing
You are the nothing that fills those uncomfortable silences
Like that time my Grandma died
All you were to me was an uncomfortable silence I wanted to fill with screaming so bad it actually hurt me
Like that time you actually hurt me
You painted me with intricately decorated contusions that made my once human like body resemble more of a cheetah
And you would tell me that I was beautiful
But how can someone be so beautiful when they have more purple skin than white?
I guess you tried to paint the world on my back, and on my legs, and on my arms because that’s what your dad did to you
And I guess that world was better than your reality
Do you even realize how broken I am?
How many times can you pick up the pieces and try to put them back together?
Honey, these puzzle pieces have been played with far too long
I no longer fit anywhere
My pieces have been touched too much
There are too many things spilt on me
I am mangled and ugly
I no longer create that beautiful picture.
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 11:27 AM UTC