"regimen" poems
A man I once loved told me he wished I “cared more about my body”
But I do care
I care for every lump and curve as much as I hate them
As much as he hated them
I remember yearning for puberty
A thing to make me tall
And thin
A biological fix for my
PROBLEMATIC BODY
Does he know the history?
The gain and loss
The bullies
The pushed-into-puddles
The nightmares
I despise the power of his lips
A lover disfigured
That’s the vibe
His words birthing a mantra of shame
And I’ll never outrun this skin
Thirty years later
And he’s pushing me into a lake
No principal to save me this time
No dry clothes
He left me years ago
Found a much thinner replacement for my side of the bed
It’s for the best
I tell myself as I drunkenly throw rocks at his window
“Don’t think
Just eat”
Is this just a game I play?
Three glasses of whiskey and a Postmate
Won’t chase the horror away
Momentary pleasure
(add guacamole)
Is that enough?
Will I ever be enough?
No
I am too much
Too much skin
Too much softness
Too many folds
Too much of me is filling up space
That’s what they tell me
I see the reflection and I hate all of this excess ME
“I wish you cared more about your body”
What is the remedy?
A perfect diet
A perfect exercise regimen
Pills
Sweat
Porcelain
Think before you speak on a body, sir
Because your words alone
Have the power to ignite a hell
Of
The
Utmost
Destruction
His venom is still pulsing through me
And I’m burning up
I want to escape
Crawl out from the water
Become pure wind
But how do I love me?
How do I allow myself to occupy space?
To stop hiding from every mirror, every glance at the ocean of my belly?
I don’t know
I’m not there yet
I am on an opposite shore consumed by self-hatred
Longing to set sail for somewhere
Somewhere I can cherish the secrets that these sacred ripples of flesh hide
Where my waistline is a treasure map of my wisdom
A place where his words have no power
Where I collapse into the sunset and set myself...
F
R
E
E
Feb 15, 2021
Feb 15, 2021 at 11:46 AM UTC
A true semantic literary meaning
awakening to curate
my being
or throw away it all and question
the delivery of
the ics and isms
determining not by me but by the reader
what is true
like Montague
proposing a new system
I propose a meaningful regimen,
one where words are either felt
, make me halt and listen,
to what they truly meant.
Or they don't.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 12:32 AM UTC
my daily regimen, focused, intense,
a pugilistic kata of the tongue,
in preparation for our oral fence,
run laps around ideas, expand lungs,
my visualization of that day--
we spar with strikes and parries, counterstrikes,
in reasonings' most ****** kumite,
my verbal knuckles down her oral pikes,
so armed with good reasons to reconcile,
arriving at the place where she should be,
she proves to be so much more versatile
absent, my wasted versatility,
i cannot win with passion or with rage,
a lover's heart which simply won't engage
(C)2012, Christos Rigakos
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 2:29 PM UTC
Look at my face
Look at it right now
What do you see?
You know what, no I’m going to tell you what you see.
You see black.
Look at my hands
What do you see?
You see black.
Do you even need to look at my nose before you assume that it’s large?
Are my lips the same?
Do you even try to get to know me before you assume that I play by the rules of the stereotypical
“black” game?
When will people realize, when will people realize that we are not the stereotype that has been forced
upon us.
So many of us spend so much time trying to break through these minds of the people who see us for one thing. Black.
Now don’t get me wrong.
Black is important
Black is strong
Black is independent
Black is beautiful
I don’t need you to tell me that you’re surprised that I don’t speak “ghetto”
I don’t need you to tell me that you expect me to be a **** and walk around in stilettos
And I don’t need you to tell me that I’m inferior to you because my skin color doesn't fit your regimen.
No. I will not, I will not be defined by my melanin.
But I will let it push me to be the person that you so clearly doubt I can be.
I will let it excel me to levels of understanding and acceptance that you will never see.
I am more than my stereotype.
You expect me to stand here and pull a gun?
You expect me to stand here and say that I don’t know who my father is?
Or do you want to hear that I’m pregnant?
And all those questions are okay, right?
Because my feelings obviously come second
No.
I refuse to be reduced to how much melanin is in my skin
I refuse to stand here and listen to people tell me that it is a sin
To be proud of my race.
To be proud of my ethnicity.
And to not keep it bottled in.
Look at my face
Look at it right now
And tell me what you see
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 11:53 PM UTC
lurking behind
that nervous but sensual laugh
hides an exotic goddess
pretending to be
a die-hard feminist
was it the regimen of a demanding mother?
was is it the separation from your misunderstood motherland?
is it the distance from your chosen lover?
or simply sadness from an unrequited love?
toss away the jin guo
and let the river flow.....
for this world to see
the true guan yin
rising within you
© 2021
May 15, 2021
May 15, 2021 at 3:17 PM UTC
Better to close your mouth when someone is bad
Utter no word to defend or offend or just comment
At times keeping mouth shut is the only solution
By this act we save head and heart aches wisely
Many people do not know how to talk or converse
They simply tear heart by badly hurting our mind
During such occasions, strict silence is desirable
As our peace of mind will be absolutely preserved
We cannot expect great diplomacy from fools
They will stick to their regimen without any wit
And can never understand life's true intricacies
As their rotten thoughts will invariably hurt only
Piercing the heart using vitriolic words is a sin
God looks with contempt at wrong words said
Whenever indecent language is employed badly
That place is surrounded by devils with ecstasy
Devilish words that destroy peace are demons
Deadly emotions expressed indecently shall
******* peace of mind and happiness of heart
As they possess an evil influence to demolish
Use always kind words filled with great warmth
Practice sharing of love and merciful expression
Our duty is to make the atmosphere Heavenly
Surely that holy state is within our full control.
mvvenkataraman
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 11:47 AM UTC
If you insist that your home
is not here with us then find
the right place to pitch your tent
and dwell with your people.
Permission is given to the one
whose ear is willing to contain
and hold the truth to stand tall
and get the crown for himself,
for many warriors are willing
to die for it.
Go for it the warrior of the land,
the man of war and the right hand
of the king.
Your strength is of the spirit,
mightier than the lion,
they speak of your strength,
your people salute you.
Stand out of the crowd,
you who are called to partake
in the regimen of the chivalry knights
of the chosen ones.
Find your place in the scheme of things
prepared for only those who walk in the
part of the divine light burning within them.
You truly belong to the chivalry knight of
the brave for you have shown yourself
worthy of such a high calling.
May you be blessed and protected.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 8:05 AM UTC
Daily practice was my Catholic Regimen
On those strings
Blooded fingertips
Evolving into
Callused hammers
D 5th augmented, 7th
A transitional dilly
Will be
The end
Of me
Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 6:50 PM UTC
Agitation, despair and its winged variations, you name it
all repressed but still rise to test me
What is my recourse?
I tread lightly on this Escheresque concourse
It’s repeated often, I know
but the pen and keys are my most cathartic release
they’re magma to emerging flames
they’re sedatives for demons and angels alike
that reside on corners of this clavicle
How many steps could you take through my lens, my concave mirror?
Have you felt what I felt?
The brimming, cerebral cauldron bursting, putting volcanic geysers to shame
the questions outnumbering seconds spent since Earth’s nativity
the emotions ripping a rift through which rationality deep dives
it becomes Phelps in unknown depths
your body becomes both a Vatican and a Colosseum,
place of worship and place of war
and you walk the tightropes your vocal chords have morphed into
careful to seem like another replica, don’t wanna upset the blades they all balance on
don’t wanna scare the rest hollow, no,
best to follow and best to follow the regimen:
coffee beans and spice of delusion in the hazelnut syrup,
sip slow
follow the same cycle because change is a cocoon and cocoons ache like the past
keep on pretending to love the workplace
love the norms held over you
puppet strings bring warmth after all
in this solitary world cold as winter missile silos
and just as destructive
So I ask again, have you felt what I felt?
Do the few days in utopia offset the majority on rodent wheels?
Have you risen so high, to satellite peaks, to the best you’ve ever been
only to have the worst waiting on the coin’s parallel?
We flip like saltwater fins and backstroke till a back is left broke
I’m learning to discard hope but breathe in the alternative
I believe in better days, I will carve them from local stone
and build a home upon their surfaces
I now know paradise is a set of blueprints
happiness is no state of mind, it’s a direction to me
you may not notice when you arrive
but you keep going
and that’s the beauty of it
you let it be the wind
It’ll find you on your journey
Tell me again,
have you felt what I felt?
Dec 7, 2021
Dec 7, 2021 at 12:05 PM UTC
Sometimes you can see in the faded
tapestry shapes and scenes that move
from foreground to background and
background to foreground.
Other times you only see the tattered
granularity of the weave and nothing else.
Is it the ocean that sounds
like traffic or the traffic that
sounds like the ocean?
As you ponder this question,
what you are holding slips
from your fingers and your mood
stabilizing regimen scatters
across the dusty floor.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 11:19 PM UTC
Dull orbs of green
Stare back from reflective material
Once vibrant fire cascaded down
Now lackluster
Once carefree and bright smiles
Replaced by emptiness and frowns
Darkness lurking in recesses
Springs forth covering everything
Thoughts trapped behind shutters to the soul
As lids lift allowing a stagnant light to glimpse
Dark and cold are blankets of warmth
Vibrant color so drab
Voices, smiles, laughter, light
Silent, empty, tears, pain
Arms reach out
Attempting to break through
Feeling the vice grip
Slivers of feeling enter
Screams bounce off just below the skull
Anguish read in the sea of green
Wanting desperately to break free
She can feel the anguish smothering
Sleep the escape
Wakened to more agony
Pills said to be the answer
Day in day out
More added to the regimen
No change in the mirror
Dreams the escape
Life the prison
Tell me how you feel
Visions of blades gauging flesh
Red floods the scene
Such warmth surrounds briefly
Suddenly very cold
No one thought to understand
Pills withdrawn
Voices no more
Lying in the poppies
Eyes dull and lifeless
Feelings gone
Peaceful rest at last
The fight long gone
Stark white sheet beneath
the cold black bag
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 12:48 PM UTC
I was too short, too awkward.
My belly too bloated, arms too thick.
It got so I couldn't harness my desire.
But I could make my stomach flat,
I could let those hip bones protrude.
Learning to control all my desires,
Discovering a new intimacy,
Which required no one.
I was terrified at letting in someone else,
Into my imperfect, hateful world.
It was me, just only me,
Who could control my cravings, my desire.
Denying myself food, proof that I was stronger,
Better than most people,
though still lonely for touch,
Still my own stiff regimen.
Trading my new-found power of flesh,
For something more trustworthy,
Something pure.
Naturally skinny,
But not dangerously so.
I trod the line between waif and child,
Hunger became my salvation.
Hunger, my sexless, undemanding suitor,
My only constant friend.
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 5:56 PM UTC
I feel inspired
Inspired to write
Like my father and father before me
Inspired
To fight the good fight
For I know it's my purpose to show people
There's a light
Deep inside of them even if they
Don't see it shine so bright
For I know that every line
And breathe, breathed in to me
Is for a reason
Addi gave me 19
19 reasons I wasn't swimming in a sea
Of misconstrued energies
Lost in repetition
Everlasting patterns
They poud on but never see
Round and round they go
In the pattern of the beast
Lost blindly in a daily regimen
A material sin
They'll never see
If it wasn't for like lost boys like
Addi
Who make it there mission
To tell everybody
That these lines have a reason
Each year an eternal voice
It's all your choice
Addi sketched something on a night so bleak
On a page once blank
A work of art I'm blessed to keep
And written above those masterful 19 lines
"Put it in your thought bank
You don't have to be alone
You don't have to run away"
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 3:52 AM UTC
I told you today
in a round about way
that I loved you
I spilt secrets and feelings on that blessed white page
hoping it had been sage
to admit in finality that I love you
now I await
for your response post haste
as you struggle to figure out my name
and my heart I try to tame
as it flutters and beats
at your chairs every squeak
and I pretend cool
as I curse that once again I let my heart rule
over logic and pride
I need to learn to smite
these whims of adrenaline
and fix my hearts painful regimen
of loving you
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
Down at Selfridges I wanted to dalliance
with one of the heavenly shop girls,
a la food concessions caught my eye
despite breaking out in a cold sweat
at the collective cost of a Tunisan aubergine
and Nazareth salad,
I insisted eating out at the Cafe Rouge,
only to awake in a New Eltham sink estate
sated full of fromage blanc
expired before yesterday,
Discovering paradoxically
beauty as a regimen
could be quite unforgiving .
I wondered if the Highgrove concession
would have been anymore
durable?
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 7:22 PM UTC
Rise, rise, out of the caverns of darkness,
through lives, unfolds your immortal journey
Collapsed field Vast to small particular blabberings
chosen timeline growing ego wonder, wonder to structure
through vales sunny at times, but
through the vaults of obscurity often
Scribblings crowd of faces men, trees, flowers
to consonants to family birds and beats butterflies
grounded in the light ancient,whose
descension is all the souls that set out
Autumn leaves Seasons tastes, smells one of a kind
rainbow joy of sun and snow sound of music for all things
before the dawn of time, branching out
into segmented existences, in a quest for Self.
regimen run, roll, infant bondings slow march of
and play skip and hop friendships the little man
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
He gifts them Summer fields
and even fetches them twilight sun
stinting over rows of trees,
where fireflies hover
and in the midst of paradise
you realise his regimen is familiar
he has already sent multitudinous pals,
adorned in grey and tarnished buckles
into fields of blood red poppies
and vortex craters filled with iron oxide
no greater love than scarred sacrifice
to perfect his own dusk
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
We are all here for a reason on a particular path
You don't need a curriculum to know that you are part of the math
Cats think I'm delirious, but I'm so **** serious
That's why I expose my soul to the globe, the world
I'm trying to make it better for these little boys and girls
I'm not just another individual, my spirit is a part of this
That's why I get spiritual, but I get my hymns from Him
So it's not me, it's He that's lyrical
I'm not a miracle, I'm a heaven-sent instrument
My rhythmatic regimen navigates melodic notes for your soul and your mental
That's why I'm instrumental
Vibrations is what I'm into
Yeah, I need my loot by rent day
But that is not what gives me the heart of Kunte Kinte
I'm tryina give us "us free" like Cinque
I can't stop, that's why I'm hot
Determination, dedication, motivation
I'm talking to you, my many inspirations
When I say I can't, let you or self down
If I were of the highest cliff, on the highest riff
And you slipped off the side and clinched on to your life in my grip
I would never, ever let you down
And when these words are found
Let it been known that God's penmanship has been signed with a language called love
That's why my breath is felt by the deaf
And why my words are heard and confined to the ears of the blind
I, too, dream in color and in rhyme
So I guess I'm one of a kind in a full house
Cuz whenever I open my heart, my soul, or my mouth
A touch of God reigns out
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 12:50 AM UTC
A web of terror would know quaintness
in their crêpe variety where a spider grew angrier
only silk woven blouse blest bats
why darts inside heads if their tough regimen were slime
and never really frittered away an hour at bay.
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 5:04 AM UTC
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Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 3:45 AM UTC
Dear Dr. Heartthrob,
I’m guessing you did not know
Yesterday I was admitted to emergency
Taken from clinic in a death march
You pretended not to notice my urgency
Guess that all has to do with insurgency
That’s quite all right by me
My seizures are not pretty little features
The drug mishap is likely not to blame
No, they did not call any preachers
Agnostic I am and devoted to creatures
I have a complicated medicine regimen
Which is to be rationalized by conspiring minds
Dr. Eyes That Melt Me is a brilliant young intern
He had gizmos and probe scopes and interesting finds
He knows more specialists dealing in matters of these kinds
We had such intimate talks together
So I hope you're not embarrassed to hear
I’m firing you for lack of bedside manner
Though in fact you were prescriptively dear
My heart is now weak for another I fear
Your Loving Patient,
Poopsy
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 3:57 AM UTC
I've had some thought of writing about love in measured dozes
and how it could be applied in daily life for therapeutic poses,
where love is generated in certain amounts and directed to one
for them to use it for recovery purposes once they have begun.
It wouldn't matter at all what the ailment or condition might be
the love generated for such purposes would be used medically,
in the treatment and cure of just about any known life disease
where a patient or those suffering received right love to please.
We could debate and argue about the implications and scope
of what this would mean for one who didn't have much hope
of ever getting better or to living life without further distress
once they would come under the regimen called love's caress.
Take for example someone accustomed in life only to hate
and how love would turn things around for them to abate
those feelings toward their fellow human beings that stave
or so impede any beneficial relationship they might crave.
Even a genuine simple smile or a random act of kindness
would go a long way or could be used in such a boldness
to make an initial impression on one who was so in need
or show them that love was what they're missing indeed.
So then, a look, a wink or even a gentle loving touch
could also be employed with a positive effect as such
like the unconditional love in life of a caring mother
towards her children suffering in one way or another.
The wisdom of love applied in such ways wouldn't ever be
found to be wasted or seen to have anything unnecessary
that could do harm to anyone receiving a treatment of love
as the real source of it we know comes from heaven above.
_____________________________________
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 1:56 AM UTC
Cassius Bartholomew, a dapper gentleman
Oh, two-toned fuzzy suit, and smile so genuine
Regarding his tough muscles, a good workout regimen
Gracious with affection, his love is never tentative
I greatly love that Cash, so I write these sentences
Cassius is a cuddle monster who snuggles day or night
Oh, that Cashboy is such a manly man despite his tiny height
Ruggedly running through rolling hills, superlative delight
Gusto! Cash's cry of joy when his name you cite
I hope you understand by now, Cash's character's airtight
Cassius is a Corgi, a big-eared loaf of bread from end to end
Cashboy is the best of dogs
He's truly man's best friend
Feb 20, 2020
Feb 20, 2020 at 3:08 PM UTC
In my younger days
there was pain
and a rage
that would raze
the world away;
A deep injection
of sorrow infections,
coupled with
disappointment,
and when I erupted
I kept almost all
of my volcanic outbursts
to the form of exercise
or other means of
self-hurt,
because I did not
want to cause
anyone
the same
sickness
of anguish
that I suffered.
Whether it was
waking in tears,
punching solid objects,
or working out
to the point of
exhaustion,
purging my stable
of demons,
what a
painful exorcism.
Now,
I am healthier,
and I only engage in
a less brutal regimen
in comparison
to deal with my issues.
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 10:36 AM UTC