"reciever" poems
Feeling fine
I am a paper cup full of ice
An inter-dimensional (being)
Laughing
And
Agreeing
Take off your disguise,
Beautiful
Let me see those pearly-eyes
Ruby lips
Diamond cheek bones
May I kiss?
May I sit?
Good to see you
Great to be here
Can I pour you some tea?
Two cubes of sugar
A tad of cream
A little rat poison
To help you dream
Half-closed eyes
And leaning
Gossamer dreaming
As you play piano
For no reason at all
You play with the treble
Line to line
Perfect pretty rhytm
Dancing in time
The melody of your thin dress
And the shape it reveals
Limbs and weeds
The music swells
A dash of lust
Your summer smell
A fragrant perfume
The jump of eyes
Northward
Eastward
Westward
Skys
The spark of fingers
A flash electric blue
The kitchen light
Is dripping on you
The teeth of your smile
The color of white
*No my love
I cannot stay
With summer here
It's time to play
If your mother says you can't come out
I'll stand outside
I'll scream
I'll shout
Over radios
And t.v screens
Shooting cap pistols
At everything
Because last night I had a dream
You called on the phone
I heard your whisper
Infinite dial tone
On the reciever
Lie dreamer*
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 11:25 PM UTC
I can fall in love with your words,
Without ever meeting the person behind them.
I could be infatuated by what you have to say,
Without ever hearing a moments speech from your lips,
Feel touched without the need for physical embrace,
Because every emotion shared is a kind of kiss.
It's certainly not romantical (although it offers no barriers to such),
No, this is something far more real,
Transcending the animal need for the flesh to intertwine,
So much more than the roundabout hellos and goodbyes,
Beating even the are you OKs and I feel that way toos.
It's the simple "I am here. This is me."
So glorious in its simplicity that it could break a heart,
Or mend it, depending on the reciever,
Although I suppose the point is there is no reciever,
Like the triumphant cry of the lone mountaineer,
Or the screams of a mother who's lost her child,
Only far more composed in their release.
I sometimes feel like I'm reading words not meant for my eyes,
(And, in a sense, I suppose they're not).
They are far more beautiful than words that need to be read,
These are words that were meant to be written.
I find myself hating humanity to its very core,
Although each individual has traits I love endearingly-
Every last one- (even ****** created works of beauty),
But you, who have encapsulated a piece of divinity,
Within such common things as words - I love you more.
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 11:21 PM UTC
Feeling fine
Like a paper cup full of ice
An inter-dimensional(being)
Laughing
Or
Agreeing
Take off your disguise,
Beautiful
Let me see those pearly-eyes
Ruby lips
Diamond cheek bones
May I kiss?
May I sit?
Another cup of tea
Cross legged
And leaning
I feel like I'm dreaming
As you play your harpsicord
For no reason at all
You play with the treble
Line to line
Perfect pretty rhytm
Dancing in time
The melody of your thin dress
And the shape it reveals
May I have a kiss?
The summer of smell
On your perfume
The jump of your eyes
Are a dancing big-a-loo
The spark of your fingers
A flash electric blue
You dripped in the light
The teeth of your smile
The color of white
But no
I cannot stay
With summer here
It's time to play
If your mother says you can't come out
I'll stand outside
I'll scream
I'll shout
Over radios
And t.v screens
Shooting cap pistols
At everything
Because last night I had a dream
You called on the phone
I hear your whisper
On the reciever
You're a believer
Dream breather
Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 12:55 AM UTC
"Gotta change my answering machine,
Now that im alone."
No wait,
why must I quote that song?
Lets look at the Positive
I'm free..
from the chains
they held me..
ever so close to you
what else could I do?
Bright sky
Sunny day.
yet only your constant tears
could wash that away.
use your pain like a crutch
have it hold you up.
take a breath, have a touch.
Cop a feel
like seriously
lets keep it real.
what purpose did I serve?
to be the reciever of your pain?
I had no coat..
so why the constant rain?
Its not a choice for me
so you've nothing but to gain.
Why must I be the bad guy?
Because I refused to go insane?..
I've held my feelings too long
But now its time I brought the rain.
I'd say we fuss
I'd say we fight..
but you never talked to me so
no... thats not right..
Don't think I didn't love you
If you do then you've lost sight..
I hope that by now
You've opened that umbrella
It came from our love
Sweet... Like Nutella..
Summer is almost here
and its been a long wet season
I hope you know me leaving you,
was truly for a good reason.
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 9:48 PM UTC
Sometimes when i say goodbye.
I wonder how I hold it togather befor
the phone touches the reciever.
Does she know the pain I mask.
Memories make us drunk with emotion.
Time makes us bitter from the cold.
And in the darkness she brings light.
Under the ice she creates warmth.
She kisses the past away.
My shelter in which to run
If I choose to lead so does she follow.
Two halfs of one heart.
Weve walked across broken glass to lay
in a feather bed.
The nights passionet flow
her head apon my chest.
And how could I find one so perfect for me.
Distance takes the heart and traces the tear.
Such comfort brought from the understanding.
That pain would be erased if she were here.
Jules i see that next day as a promise
set in stone.
That from that first hello
we found in one another a reason to never be alone.
The highway rolls into the horizen
eternal is the love.
As a sun sets apon the ocean we stand
my arms wrapped around you waves crash into the shore.
In love I give everything.
For i could spend a lifetime here with you.
And still thirst for more.
With words we struggle to say.
What flows from the pen.
Also bleeds form the soul and that
shall never go away.
Feb 3, 2010
Feb 3, 2010 at 6:59 AM UTC
She called from the hospital payphone.
The little genius girl who wanted to be a marine biologist
Now wanting to die?
I stood by the reciever,
My legs snapping like elastics to the ground
In an awkward embrace with the wall.
That was the last time I cried.
We were thirteen, then.
That was four years ago.
My best friend who I could have helped,
She is breathing right now
but I am not with her.
The death of my childhood.
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 8:56 PM UTC
Acid Tongue Xpress how you must feel.
Allowing words rolled off you to heal.
Don't stop now when you think you are done
let the feeling take you where there is none.
You want to say more than likable but continue to let words get you into trouble.
Say what your mind has been holding
empty the space your anger has been molding.
More words of hurt will refill it
just keep on feeling what you will permit.
Speak, and don't hold back anymore
go on now your acid words have the floor.
Does it feel better when you speak
allowing the reciever to become weak?
So silence can not control this event
when every word said was truely meant.
Now the words have become lost
Our friendship of many years is all it cost.
SDPope
Jan 23, 2010
Jan 23, 2010 at 6:39 PM UTC
I watch your house from fade into the horizion
From the back of a pick up truck
Back to texas in the summer
I smell you on my t-shirt
I'm just a ghost
Your just a dream
The stars are bright out on the Highway
Once you climb down from the light
You start to see the dark is someonelse
Someone other than the son
My breath is steam outside a bar now
Breath you once felt on your neck
Cherry stems Jack Daniel twilight
All of these girls have eyes so bright
But not as bright as your sleeping form
A window full of pale moonlight
I hear you whisper in my drunken hour
How your never gonna leave
A kiss I think has no distance
The phone gives me your kiss on the cheek
So I go home back to a lonley motel
With dying lights and floating moths
Empty packs of ciggarettes
I watch the ashes fall and blown in the wind
I can't hear your voice
I sleep alone here every night
But you sleep soundly on his bed now
you took off
that little ring
that I worked day and night for
While you sleep away from me
I hear your yell o'r the reciever
Hollering a name I know
How he loves you and he treats you
Better than you've ever known
Does he work his fingers to the bone
Barbed Wire DUST
Sleeping doesn't come so easy
Sleeping won't do any good
Beer and STAR-FILLED Nights in texas
A lone star state of mind
Old country on the radio
That my grandad listened to
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 12:05 AM UTC
You make me feel so fine
Day breaks like a burning ember
Too soon it always seems
Stay up all night and listen
To a waking dream
Where is the magic sleeping
I used to feel it all the time
But now I lie and listen
To a broken melody
Where is that meaning sleeping
I used to feel it all the time
I left one night when you were sleeping
In somebody elses bed
I can feel it in a moment
Like a rush of blood into my head
A needle to another vein
I want you to know I wake up
In the same old world as you
What makes us so different
A world thats crazy
A sky so blue
Cloud number nine
Came right on time
Like a rush of smoke into my lungs
I think I hear a whisper
On the reciever
Your a deciever
Dream Breather
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 9:05 PM UTC
I streched the spring.
Then put it back.
Closed the reciever
With a click and a clack.
I charged the handle.
Then let it go.
I counted my rounds.
Twenty nine in the mag.
One in the hole.
She felt the same.
Cold and steady.
I felt no shame.
Cold and ready.
The air felt heavy.
But something was new.
Some mechanical remedy.
My magazine was full.
And I could face my enemy.
with a 2 lb. trigger pull.
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 2:09 AM UTC
the fire in my eyes, ceases
except in the light
of the poor reciever at the end of my deciever
plump sanguine lips
glossed over in the saliva of guys
i've fabricated a magical mask spiked with lies
to taste the lips of "lovers"
an ego boost
a hoaxed siren with naively forged wings
covered in *****
of those who are not smart enough to see
when something is fake
like a mad medusa witch
i understand now why some women took the hand of evil
but the angel inside me
breathes she doesn't want to hurt people anymore
and the devil will not walk out the door
so i'll hurt myself instead
with a bullet to my head
a splash of colour
and i'm dead
with real wings
instead
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 7:34 AM UTC
Your a brittle ***** believer dreaming of the days
A devil hearted deciever
A careful little game
Of listening for a phone to ring
The static, the reciever, talk until you say
Something I believe in
Careful in your ways
I say goodbye
I'll miss you
I wish that you could stay,
But
Your a danger to yourself
Finding your own way out
Means a bullet to your brain
Finding your own way home
Singing all the way
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 12:04 AM UTC
Maybe the hardest part is not knowing what happens after; when the routines have to get back to normal. Or what once was normal. And walking around wondering how you're going to keep walking with this huge chunk of your life gone because even though there is less, it weighs on you like a ball and chain around your ankles and and anvil on your shoulders. Where there was once a warmth is now cold air so you're reaching out for a guide but your guide has long since left.
Like picking up the phone
being greeted by a dial tone
the reciever hanging over the edge
eyes filled with dread
Maybe the hardest part is looking in the mirror and thinking about the way he was always there even when there were more shadows than open spaces. You listen to the overlapping voices and still only hear white noise. The same story over and over but it never sinks.
Like a broken television
with the same frequency
on repeated patterns with
an antenna broken
Maybe the hardest part is rushing. Rushing to speed up time that drags itself in the snow. Rushing for peace. For you. For him. For her. For them. Rushing for absolution, for an end to an end, for burying the hatchet. The flower arrangements, the casket wood, the burial, the eulogy.
Like swerving into small spaces
burning rubber and barely
missing the onlookers to finally
get it all done
Maybe the hardest part is catching your breath once there's nothing left. Once they're gone. Once you tell yourself that it's time. It's time to move on.
I know they say a person dies twice; once when they physically stop living and again when someone says their name for the last time. But I believe they die a third time; and that is when the last memory of them ceases to exist.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
As all of you go out at night
Another weekend passes by
Taking for granted what you have
When to be invited, I would die
The social outcast's role is played
By me myself and I
No, I exaggerate, that's too much
Im so alone I want to cry
I built up the courage one fateful day
Enough courage to ask and approach
What was wrong with me? What I'd done wrong
That I was treated like a ghost
All I got back was the sly remark
"Do you hear that strange buzzing sound"
Then whack! I was slapped, hard across the face
Next I was on the ground
I was kicked, beaten, left for dead
Sore and badly bruised
No one around to hear my cries
Against them I'd always lose
All I really want is to fit in
Be considered one of the gang
That seems impossible at this point
I'm best friends with the back of your hand
The worst part is I'll never know
Why I was the one that God picked
To be someone else's punching bag
And reciever of their kicks
I cry at night and lick my wounds
As another day passes by
The predator, the prey are all roles played
In the messed up circle of life
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 9:45 AM UTC
At morning you wake,
the sun burning your eyes,
you wonder how much more it will take,
until you reach your demise,
you're already counting down the hours left in the day,
terrified for what's ahead,
planning how to get away,
from all the words they haven't yet said,
you start your slow walk to school,
with your earphones full blast,
levitating straight down the hall,
please can this day be the last,
it's hard not to think it's your own fault,
when you're the reciever of every stare,
and the target of every insult,
that plunges you further into despair,
you want to scream "what did I ever do to you?",
for them to treat you like **** on their shoe,
to have your spirit beaten black and blue,
how can people tell you to ignore it,
when everyday you take a hit,
you reported them but it was no use,
they practically just tied your noose,
so inside it you place your head,
and you do as they wished,
so now you're dead,
then they'll say how much you'll be missed
Aug 18, 2024
Aug 18, 2024 at 10:44 AM UTC
there are many on the ground
the beautiful bullets have found
in an instant, there were smiles
in an instant, only piles
lying bleeding, underneath the piles
asking, how can one be so vile
did the sermon of hate corrupt you
or was your mind, a reciever of fools
the talk of fear and the coming rapture
if you turn the page, there's another chapter
perhaps you should ask Him did you make
a mistake
let us all know His answer, for heaven sake
there are many on the ground
the beautiful bullets have found
in an instant, there were smiles
in an instant, only piles
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 9:13 AM UTC