"receiver" poems
If there was one word
One word, isolated by itself
That I cannot stand above all others
It would have to be "Okay"
I despise "Okay"
"Okay"
Is how your millionth day at work went
"Okay"
Is off-brand raisin bran
"Okay"
Is how you say life is going
When you don't want to admit you spend
Every second of it
Wanting to die
"Okay"
Is packed to the brim with
Hidden implications
Like a treasure chest
Filled with bottles
With little subliminal hatreds
Written on tiny slips of paper
Passively aggressively pushed inside
To discover later
As I pull out a treasure map
And try to decipher
Where I went wrong
"Okay"
Is a one word dismissal
That feels like an essay a thousand pages long
"Okay"
Is a poison dripping with disinterest
When I dared to share with you
Something I thought might make you smile
"Okay"
Is like trying to talk to a wall
While watching the paint on it dry
"Okay"
Takes two seconds to write
Yet I waited days
For that dreaded word
To grace my notifications
"Okay"
Should be used sparingly
As if each time you send it
You **** the receiver just a little bit
"Okay"
Should not be said so often that
I know what you're about to say
Like I saw it in a crystal ball
"Okay"
Is not looking up from your phone
When I tell you about my day
"Okay"
Is not the proper response
To "I love you"
They say that the opposite of love isn't hatred
It's indifference
And I can't think of a response
More indifferent to pouring out
My heart into your hands
Than "Okay"
At least the last thing you said to me
Before we parted ways
Showed that you cared
At least a little bit
"I hate you"
Stung less
Than the thousands of times
Over our countless conversations
You responded
"Okay"
Okay?
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 12:09 PM UTC
Umm, the presence and scent of a man
Magnetic attraction where his feet stands
His natural body charismatic aroma
Element of charms, seeping to awaken a woman out a sensual coma
Is it his eyes, the soul behind his life’s mysteries
Flirtation in his smile, tells me he has an undercover ****** history
It is his nose that smells out my charms
An enticing deep baritone voice, his spoken words, which turns me on
Is it the erratic heartbeat he has for a woman, his passionate relent
Stealing my breath, as he tenderly seals my lips in an impassioned moment of content
The strength in his biceps
His triceps
Strong, yet such comforting arms
An epitome of steel, circled around a woman in winter life’s storms
In the cold of night, his body providing your heated warmth
His chest, a hard pillow to tell your doubts, your uncertainties, your fears
Pulling you closer onto it, his reassuring words eradicating your tears
His intellectual mind to think as a man
A stimulating, slam bam and thank you ma’am, or your personal grand slam
His weakening love, taking your body beyond the stars
Woman from Venus, my handsome Man for Mars
His groin, and his family jewels from which it springs forth
Erected compass of his wand now pointing North
A woman’s reservation to tease, please, stroke, or allow it to choke
His loud murmurs shadowing your moans, echoing in the wind
**** I love the presence of men, and his undulated carnal sins
From the first taste of honey dipped Butter *** me
As his giving oral fixation is traveling free
Freeing the elixir of juices that deems to flee
His hairy legs as he stands to lift my weight
In the shower, no wait, as I anticipate
Hooking my twerking bait
His physique in general…Oh, God thank you
Without the scent of a man, we women would not know what to do
Your presence to a woman is our earthly food
Our je ne sais quoi for our every ****** mood
Rather you are standing, lying still, or upside down
The blissful 69 number conquered as we’re fooling around
My Dream Weaver
My distance heartbeat receiver
His dripping sweat
Droplets to my skin have been met
The presence and scent of a man holds me throughout the night as our eyes finally rest
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 10:00 AM UTC
"Hello this is the Plum Wood Police Department. How may I help you?"
"I'm calling because there is a dead woman in the woods by highway 77. She has no face or eyes."
"Who am I'm speaking with?"
"This is the killer. I cut off her face and removed her eyes and took them with me. That way I can always look her in the face. **** the world everybody killer."
"Sir can you tell me why you did this? **** he ended his call."
Plum Wood was a small city with a low crime rate. When officer Daniel received a call from a killer telling him there was a dead woman in the woods by highway 77 it was surprising. Officer Daniel placed the phone back on receiver and took a deep breath.
He slowly exhaled and then called all aviable officers and Detective Thomas.
"Hello Detective Thomas this is officer Daniel. I just got a call from a man telling me there was a dead body in the woods by highway 77. He said he was the killer and that he cut off her face and removed her eyes and took them with him. That way he can always look her in the face. I tried to get his name and to tell me why he did this but he ended his call. I think he was using a cellphone."
Written by Keith Edward Baucum
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 5:10 PM UTC
Technology.
Technology is one of those things that is good and bad.
It can save lives and ruin them.
They can make people feel happy, and sad.
It can delete and it can send.
Technology can destroy and create,
it can rebuild and make things complete.
It can make things crumble, devastate.
It can knock things down, delete.
Technology is a weapon that nobody can control.,
from cyber space and a nuclear weapon,
It makes some people poor and drowns some in gold.
You can ruin a life with a push of a button.
You can ridicule somebody using a picture, text, post
you can get so caught up in the moment
that you forget what matters the most.
That the people you antagonize are actually people, not just a receiver of a nasty comment.
No matter what you think, words hurt,
hiding behind a computer screen doesn't change that.
Mental scars you can insert,
if you know what to say, and how to act, .
Technology is a force not to be messed with,
it can turn a battle into a war,
and not just a myth.
And then you'll only hurt others even more.
Be responsible while using technology,
and maybe we can prevent the scars,
and the victims that feel the need to flee.
You can chose to let your malice go, let it drive away like a car,
and instead prevent further hurt, and hopefully make the others see.
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 1:40 PM UTC
Be the Warrior Spirit and
Fight for the light
A soldier for creation
With all of your might
Projecting the love
Of all Saints
Day and night
Walk with great fire
With a passionate rattle
Ignite and inspire
An affectionate battle
Beam from the heart and
Jump into the saddle
Be
A Lightworker
A Healer
A Mystical Weaver
Stand with Divine Mother
As a Cure-all Receiver
Spirit will guide you
Empowered by faith
Our weapon is love
****** forward with grace
As we kneel down to pray
We
Push light in the earth
Watch it roll through the cracks
Crawl up every fountain
Follow the tracks and
Inhabit the mountains
Spread out in the grass and
Reach up to the sun
Reflecting it back
With love
Only love
Be the Warrior Spirit
Fight for the light
A soldier for creation
With all of your might
Projecting the love
Of all Saints
Day and night
Projecting the love
Of all Saints
Day and night
© tHE tERRY tREE
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 7:26 PM UTC
I was raised as a mother,
Never as the daughter.
A burden they carried,
Never the healer.
I was the giver,
Never the receiver—
And for one single mistake,
I became the villain.
Sep 26, 2025
Sep 26, 2025 at 11:21 AM UTC
Hades,
God of the dead
King of the underworld
And all of its shades
The Unseen,
Giver of Wealth
Keeper of the hound Cerberus
Brother, one of a grand trio
With sisters of wonder
The renowned wealthy one
Judge of the dead
Mighty ruler is he
Keeper of mortal souls
Great is he
Upholder of the balance
In the kingdom below
Mortals, how they tremble
At his sheer power
His word is his command
Strong is he, astounding among the gods
God of peace for the deceased
Upholder of funeral rites
Defender of burial rights
Due onto the dead
Regal is he
The all-receiver
Blessed is the abundance
Of wealth he bring
Mysteries of the dark
Oh great one
Whom mortals hold
Both honor and fear
Whom many indeed revere
Divinely dark
Hands upon the earth
Reaching far below
To his realm, his domain
Sacrifices to him,
Offerings to the King
Whom ride in chariot of gold
Drawn by four horses immortal
From his kingdom below
The legends that did grow
Carrier of the scepter
To guide the shades
With his power and mystery
Thousands know his name
The God Hades
- Jay M
October 5th, 2021
Oct 5, 2021
Oct 5, 2021 at 1:28 PM UTC
It’s round 2, time for teamwork
Cowgirl position, hit that reverse
Up and down make that thang twerk
Got wet juices all over my T-shirt
Taste so good like it’s a dessert
Tap out twice quicker then sooner
Love you babe you a trooper
I’m the present & your future
Hi, I’m Zay, good to meet ya
When we’re done, I’ll have you dreaming
Have you singing like Aaliyah
Came inside you, you a keeper
I’m a giver, not a receiver
No pressure here, I’m here to please ya
Go half on a baby, yes I need ya
Round 3 is about to have you eager
Sep 20, 2020
Sep 20, 2020 at 6:51 AM UTC
my prison and
my paradise.
my warzone and
my refuge
the receiver of many tears
the place where I am without fears,
the cause of pain,
and the cure
so *****
yet so pure.
the place i go when I’m full of dread,
is the place i go to rest my head.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 3:11 PM UTC
Chocolate Milkshake!
Sweet love-child of milk and chocolate;
Drowsing inside my extra large take-away tumbler,
after a tiring roller coaster ride.
Chocolate milkshake!
Dark and delicious; Derived from the desserted district of dreamland.
Destroying me internally, you devilish seed of cacao tree.
Today, you are mine; And I’ll be the proud receiver of your sweet nectar.
Chocolate Milkshake!
You proudy liquidy miracle of nature.
You self obsessed syrup of supremacy.
You won’t ever get over yourself, will you?
Chocolate Milkshake!
I have loved you enough, you mean juice of Zion.
Next time, I am gonna order a vanilla milkshake.
It might not be as magical as you are;
But again, I can’t hold onto you forever.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC
Why have two arms?
If you're not willing to hug.
People are quick to punch with two arms.
Even with one arm.
You can deliver a lovin' hug.
It these limps that truly assist us.
Sure there are others.
But at the present.
I'm not mentioning them.
Altho' I'm sure the lips.
Are a little jealous.
Why have two hands?
If you're not willing to use them.
We use them to shake hands.
Altho' we have those afraid to catch a germ.
As if.
They hadn't caught germs from other items in their life.
This hug.
Which can be given with kindness.
Which can be deivered with softness.
Well, in this case.
The receiver might have a sun burn.
Or some other type of injury.
Plus, you can hug too tight.
And be banned from trying that again.
When requested to just shake hands.
Of course.
You have those that does the search and feel.
Trying to be like a detective trying to pat you down.
But for those that's truly sincere.
You personally know those that's sincere.
When giving a hug.
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 8:57 AM UTC
"Have you talked to dad,
since you've been at school?"
"Nope."
"Are you coming home
for thanksgiving?"
"I don't know."
Josephina
breathes in a crackle
over the phone.
New York,
a cacophony
in the background.
A background of cold,
and
people talking
while walking
while hailing a yellowcab with a left
and slow-rolling heads locked
onto the phones in their right.
These people enter taxis,
not knowing if they're ever
going to reach home,
or the airport,
or union square,
just going
on the promise
that they won't become
road-kill.
I can't feel it in my yellow apartment.
If anything,
my yellowcab
idles.
Through the receiver
A squad car
rings nervously,
then
after a lungful
of garbage-smelling air,
it becomes a full blare.
A pause
of
noise
always ensues,
just for a second,
the entire corner
becomes a silent silo
of human beings.
"How's new york?"
"you know,
dad called me
and asked about
how to get on a diet,
can you believe that?"
Yes,
I can
dad is a fat ****
a pink, white belly
of a man. And a few
sandbags for chins.
"That's good."
"So I'm not going to see you?"
"Probably not."
"Well, you should call dad,
talk to him,
he loves
you."
Some conversations,
acheive nothing.
The same
tired, dead things
get run over.
Road-kill.
Josephina believes she is the spatula
that will bring back
pancake squirrels
and
pancake relationships.
As much as you don't know
about me and dad's relationship,
I can give you a kodak moment.
A snapshot,
of a hovering man,
pointing at his son's neck,
searching for the misplaced vertebrae,
the lack
of fear for the world
--"the right kind of fear,
the fear a man
should have
of himself"--
and a son,
hunched,
small hands in fists,
a heavy haul of muscles
pulled into a dark brow
right over black eyes.
This picture
will suffice.
Nov 23, 2011
Nov 23, 2011 at 4:59 PM UTC
So sleep doesn't come to me
But perhaps it has found you fine,
And that's fine.
I hope that you're fine
But my thoughts now unwind in confusion intertwined with illusion can I find what intrusion made you draw the line to place a sign and say to my face,
"This is over. Good luck in college, good luck in life, *** I will not be there tomorrow or tonight, corazon."
And you loved me yesterday,
And today is just yesterday with a different name
Does that mean your love was labelled
And now the label has been changed?
*** yesterday we spoke of what our futures held in store
For the both of us together, holding hands amidst the roar
And the dark of the unknown glazed with ice across the floor;
It was that; "Goodnight, kittycat;" what strange coincidence as my heart sang the night before
And now it's sore.
What a difference 24 hours makes;
Was it my mistakes? Or just the lake of tears and sorrow and how often your heart breaks?
*** I knew I really loved you when my first concern became,
"I hope that she's ******* alright!"
That thought drove me insane.
And there was no response,
The receiver remained on the hook.
Her cell-phone thumbed with call display,
But 'decline' is all it took.
She broke my heart with 1, 2, 3
and now questions seep my bones.
Making sleep impossible,
She could have picked up the phone
And said, "I'm sorry. I really am, you understand this is just as hard
For me as well, I really do love you,
I'm simply more than marred."
But silence was the answer that I got
With my shocked glance.
In my mind stirs feelings that perhaps there is a chance
In fact, a truth that there's no way I could have lost you yet.
Not like this,
Not this abyss
With such finality.
This was so much more than that
In my reality.
I hope you turn around and regain your sanity
Because I miss you and although I've made mistakes, I've realized
Real eyes realize real lies
And what we had was honest truth.
So before you give up on me and you
On both of us;
Please consider what you're giving up,
Because I trust
You'll figure all this out in time
And if space is what you want;
I understand,
But please don't forget of what we were,
I can wait, I just wish it weren't all such a blur.
I love you, and I'm still your waffle
I hope that you know that
And I can be your patient
Silent
Waiting kittycat.
Feb 16, 2012
Feb 16, 2012 at 2:53 AM UTC
All I got every time
Was this
Line
Is
Disconnected
Please try again later,
I had tried to dial
But you weren't answering
My calls,
How could you disconnect
What we had
Our line was connected
For so long,
Thoughts,
Emotions,
Love,
Were the voices at the end on the line.
But no matter
How many times I try,
"You'll not pick up"
I think your heart now rings for another
You
Disconnected
Me
So my receiver I put down
As the call never to be
Answered,
As our hearts are disconnected
Now from each other.
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 3:37 PM UTC
part, the first; serve
a good conversation is like a good game of tennis,
(with no winner) the ball drunkenly goes from side to side.
coffee shop, asking to pass the sugar,
the serve is delicate and precise, making it is key.
acceptance with the splenda is passed along with ‘sure’,
the receiver must lose their name, anticipate the arrival
following up with such a statement, a vocational inquiry
title lost, the ball has been struck and thrown as response.
part, the second; dance
the game has truly begun;
the beginning is not the serve,
but the response to.
back and forth in endless banter,
meaningless question,
to meaningless answer.
secretly, both don’t want the volley to end;
not often does the
passing sugar trick work.
part, the third; point
a fatal slip- achilles heel:
remembrance. no appointment is worth
losing a point, even
one for a prostate check (despite common opinion)
good thing then; the score
does not go to a single point, it requires
four or so completions,
though by four they will not count score
(and will drop the rackets).
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 9:59 PM UTC
You need to pay a sin tax
for the way you talk smack,
calling me your property
your syntax is making me
over. the. hill.
I’m heels over head with
you
making me crazy
the way that you speak
your diction’s too weak.
“you’re so nice”
how boring, I choose more
elegant words
to describe your glory
I could write
a five-page double-spaced
essay about you
and get accepted to your ivy league
I could wrap my
arms around you
like ivy on stone
hang you up to dry
on the
clothesline
til you answer the
telephone
I could cling to
you
like static
on your sweater
you better
not
flick.me.off.
Hell, my poetry ain’t free
it’s about as free as
slaves
I have confines, rules
bats in caves
It costs me thoughts
and time
and frustration
costs me more than just greenbacks
and a vacaction.
you need to pay up
talk isn’t cheap
your words cost you
attention
even if
my love don’t cost a thing
I train you like a golden
retriever
you retrieve my orders
like a wide receiver
my language is figurative
but your actions are derivative
you’re confusing me
like
trigonometry
love triangles are not my thing.
our
l θve i ∫ a sin(x)
cos we go off on
tangents and don’t know where to
begin
first we’re infatuated
then we’re done
next we’re inebriated
then we have some fun
happens so fast
then we come together at last
This rollercoaster of emotion
has me puking again
I’m trying to calculate this algorithm
in my head.
its so complicated
I’ll need something else instead.
in this kaleidoscope
I see
many sides
of you and me
I spin it round to try to understand
all I see is a blur of colors
even when I hold your hand.
I wish I could see
the thoughts you hide
from me
I want to understand
you’re radioactive
your face is glowing
even in pitch black
your smile is showing
but, I never get to see
your eyes
make me crazy
hazy
they trip me up
and pull me down
periodically, you’re in your element
and everything clicks
then we stick and the chemistry’s quick
but then you open your mouth
garbage spurts out
I think it’s about time
I take you out
Oct 7, 2011
Oct 7, 2011 at 2:06 PM UTC
Holding the wall up, and feeling alone
You pick up the receiver, but hear dial tones
And suddenly stronger, you dial the phone
Unwrapping the number crumpled on your desk
You swim in uncertainty, but pray for the best
Cause things always turn around, you'll bounce back I guess
Ask if they're still hiring part time
You request dollar bills, but you only make dimes
As if living your life is such an awful crime
Brag to the waitress, you survived another day
As you throw your old poems into the ash tray
Hopefully your dreams will thaw out by May
But being a Winter, you feel more alone
You stick to the wall, and your skin becomes stone
Cause the Walls will not stand, if you decide to leave home
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC
~
*Mermaid in a manhole
suffering hibernation sickness
she drinks in every sob like wine
her oceanic call reverberates
whilst speaking dead languages
into the receiver
but slipping off melancholy
and blown a wish
by hide-and-seek lips
she chooses an unfamiliar light
****** with scissors
throbs of undamaged energy
from her vernal equinox
but in love with a bad idea
and beyond the minimum safe distance
she no longer plays at fragile volumes
and careful times
hands playing butterfly
pinch nippled skin
she chooses an unfamiliar light*
~
Jan 30, 2023
Jan 30, 2023 at 10:58 AM UTC
This is one American that drops beats, not bombs
This is one American that admits when she’s wrong.
But an ocean doesn’t divide us
Only you divide us
With your words for labels that say what’s you, not me
Your stereotypes are gunna be the death of me
You’re killing me with these close-minded philosophies
And Who the hell ever said you were the referee of me?
We gotta spend less time sneering and swearing
We gotta spend less time jeering and tearing
You should never have to defend when you love
You should never have to defend why you love
You should never have to defend who you love
We are all created equal;
That’s the condition of the receiver
And we are all the receivers
But some keep spewing that hate; those hate-believers
But we don’t accept their judgment upon us
We gotta rise up out of adversity placed on us
Some out there will go to their graves justifying
Committing acts based on fear is nothing but mortifying
And I’m gunna be truthful; I’m not even lying
When your preach your ******** the human race is dying.
You see United this house stands strong
Every new hand we hold pushes us along
Every brick makes us higher
Acceptance makes us flyer
Gotta keep hate out of your heart
And maybe then we’ll get to start
To come together
To love one another
And to be free like it is intended
Maybe then the human race will be mended
Maybe then this bad movie will get a better sequel
Maybe then we’ll realize We are all created equal.
I want to stop it all
To go into a free-for-all
To rip those signs apart
To take that hate from that heart
All I can do is spread the word on love
And hope to God that will be enough
All I can do is be me and let you be you
All I can do is all I can do
But together we can appreciate
That all together we can officiate
Love that knows no bounds
That type of harmony with unreal sounds.
We may measure success by what’s published
We may measure it by what’s re-said
By how much money we make
By the course that we take
But one thing I know that will bring us deliverance
All that matters is that one voice that says
You make a ******* difference.
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
Oval mirror of the sea,
age-warped isle waved and cloudy,
each angle crystalline and salty.
my lens into reality.
Point of space just visible,
focus of beams ineffable,
switch of signals transmissible,
receiver of voices inaudible
At time's edge. No need have I to shout
in fear about this death of mine.
And any creature here is glad
to offer you a glass of wine.
3k
Sing me a song
For I love the sound of your voice
A crisp-gold
Notes, a string of memories
Blinding flashings back-,
To whens and wheres
Scents, words and people.
Sing me a song
For in your voice I remember
These ways in which I love you.
Dial tones|
Electric clicks|
That inaudible crackling
I'm listening to chase the ends
Of every end of your words.
I love when our ends both go silent.
Our minds rush back and forth
Chasing, always chasing (this)
Whatever it is that we should say next.
But nothing.
Five minutes of just breathing
Into the receiver.
Somehow, happy-
Understanding that this is,
Although nothing,
Exactly what we'd been needing.
At the end of this terribly long day,
Lying in bed, wrapped in the soft fabric
Stillness, and smiling
But never hanging up the phone.
Nov 13, 2011
Nov 13, 2011 at 9:01 PM UTC
gliding over the piano keys
hitting all the right combinations
the receiver drifting off helped by smoke circles
wiping the face
settling in
sitting deeper
circle the glass edge
soaked in oak mixed water
burning wood crackles
fire a visual trap
slowly sifting trough the past
regret and pride equally rememberd
the ghost visit one by one all before midnight
ding **** the old clock answers the tears
the journey been long
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 5:42 AM UTC
"Is there anybody there?" said the caller,
"Six ten eight oh one two four three nine?"
And his ears attuned to the empty hum
Of the long-forgotten line;
And an LED on the handset
Flashed, for a moment, red,
And he dialled the number a second time:
"Is there anybody there?" he said.
But no one replied to the caller,
No sound but the dialling tone
Came drifting into his waiting ear
As he held that haunted phone;
But only a host of phantom listeners,
Of spectres weak and strange
Stood hearkening to that human voice
That echoed around the exchange;
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
And his heart was afraid and nervous,
With his hand on the final digit
Of that number not in service;
For he suddenly tapped the receiver
And spoke on that line of dread:
"Tell them I called, and no one answered,
That I kept my word!" he said;
Ay, they heard him replace the receiver,
And his mumbled cursing later,
With the usual subdued but enthused delight
Of the switchboard operator.
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 6:26 AM UTC
..............there’s such a clamour
so much choring
memory thread
I sit
armchair
rocking head
receiver of motion
bleaker of putty trauma
creator of mammary craving
.....best take up knitting or wood carving
the fortress of thought
(in strict connivance with a bewildered host)
compiles the 'person idea'
protects the fragile calculator
from biting at its own exposed
and useless self mating psychology
from glutting on its own tail
and merry going mad
in a tune of hoops...
..stammering to achieve valuation
for our decent management
projector
may you continue operations falser still
defeating our own polygraphs and making fools of our internal courtrooms
i sit on this chair
things go still
thoughts occur elsewhere
am i left to not be ?....................
May 11, 2021
May 11, 2021 at 10:00 PM UTC