"relocation" poems
The poor keep moving
as if relocation
could reframe the algebra.
They cannot see that repetition
traces patterns
in their life.
New beginnings become as hopeless
as stale finales
of debt and desperation.
Wishful thinking makes for certainties
gambling against the odds
of possibilities.
Whispered prayers and incantations
leaves no space
for reason’s compass to steady and settle.
If they stood still and mapped the moment
both sides of the equation
would simplify
and they might construct
a new geometry
of anger.
© M.L.Emmett
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 10:09 AM UTC
Precarious Life
Migration in the Age of Globalization
Various Strife
Cessation in the wage of translation
Starvation in our under age narration
Is opportunity worth the cost
Bifurcation of our to be nations
Will we make it across
Vicariously rife
Location of our permanent vacation
Hilarious fife
Hesitation in the living wage stagnation
Resignation of our own home nation
Will anything become lost
Frustration in this age of relocation
Will we make it across
Gregarious life
Migration in the age of inflation
Precarious Life
Stagflation been gauged with low expectations
Automation when we enrage damnation
It shall be worth the cost
Fixation on a whole new acclimation
Will we make it across
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
Billy loved his parsnip
He'd tend it day and night
To keep it safe from prying eyes
He stashed it out of sight
But one eventful morning
He awoke to such alarm
His parsnip had gone from puny
To the size of a baby's arm
Such growth was nigh unheard of
In a vegetable or fruit
So he bore it proud before him
Grasped expertly by the root
When he showed his doting mother
She was mightily impressed
So screamed a lot then swooned a bit
While clutching at her chest
The people at the bus stop
Shared his mother's admiration
But advised him that his tuber
Needed urgent relocation
So he took it in a taxi
Wrapped up in folded gauze
To the Guinness book of records
And he pushed apart the doors
His parsnip held protruding
With a confident advance
Like a knight atop his charger
With a huge organic lance
But security had seen him
They quickly knocked him flat
A policeman saw his parsnip
And he hid it with his hat
Billy served his sentence
For unsavory displaying
He changed his name to Danny
There's no record where he's staying
The moral of this sorry tale
Is far too dull to write
So learn your ****** vegetables
And know their names on sight
**
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 7:58 PM UTC
Please forgive my hesitation
at instigation of flirtation.
Did I ensure my elimination?
My romantic assassination?
I'll gladly partake in any placation,
for any chance of indoctrination
to the centralization of your concentration.
An operation of admiration.
A correlation of inflammation.
Your gravitation brings animation,
exclamation and elongation.
My specialization is duration.
Not to hint at a connotation,
but I feel a certain **********
by an obligation to a certain destination
where your presentation gives me restoration.
Petrification?
Total mind evacuation?
Would clarification bring fascination?
Stimulation!
Salivation!
Gratification!
Insinuation of fornication?
A simple salutation to syncopation.
Would a single bright carnation
be enough of a motivation,
for a two way relocation?
Would poetic recitation
be sufficient lubrication
for collaboration?
A consolidation?
Or an exacerbation of isolation?
Please hold no reservation,
I've only got one aspiration.
To achieve a higher elevation;
by means of inhalation,
or a certain recreation
involving a bit of perspiration
along with physical communication.
Does this seem such a bad situation?
Or are you ready for pure elation?
Feb 18, 2010
Feb 18, 2010 at 12:56 PM UTC
Thursday at lunch was the last time I seen her
Questioning my absent-mindedness from the world
Heart beat slowing with each breath I take
My response was a simple request for lonesome
As company angered me to a boiling point
Relocation was followed by echoes of my name, fading with each step
Then momentarily disturbed as I am approached for questioning once again
What's wrong? Why are you being like this? Talk to me!
But silence was all that could've been provided
My intentions would only hurt me
Though you wouldn't seem to care
What's your purpose?
Your questioning doesn't seem to serve a reason
You only care when things reflect negatively on you
And this looked as your fault
Had people wondering where my mind had gone
You ripped my heart from my chest, with no hesitation
Leaving me as your slave
And destroying me with bare hands
So I don't see why you care
What do I mean to you?
You made me feel like less than a human being
I didn't want to be here anymore
I felt like there was nothing else here for me
Smiling dissolved from my everyday life
Appalling tendencies all pointed to me
Even with hope in grasp, effort was something I didn't feel the need to give
I wanted this to end
Emotions covered me as if they were my own skin
Agony, I'd call it
The dynamics of pain could be expressed to in a lifetime
But was dealt to me in less than 4 years of my young life
Perpetual emotions wouldn't leave me to myself
As memories haunted me throughout my depressed days
As my nights grew longer and colder
Loneliness became my only option
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
NO WAIT, BUT BUT, WHERE ARE YOU MOVING TO?
WELL SEE, I AM GOING TO LIVE IN THE MOMENT.
-
ARE YOU COMING?
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 3:13 PM UTC
It is not my story to tell:
Languishing dreams in the midst of barbed wire fences,
Fearless laughter,
We add lemon, chile powder and salt to this border.
They carry these stories,
Heavy as a sack filled with indignities,
Weighty, like your grandmother’s advice,
Cumbersome, like this daily mental displacement.
I have not bought big things as of lately,
In my mind I plan my exits,
I constantly check my relocation fund,
“What if” is a constant in my lexicon.
I often break in tears at the sound of an immigrant story,
My emotions become gallons of water:
broken and splashed by the boots of immigration officers,
Little do they know, we are cacti:
Tough and our seeds also flourish post mortem.
I want to sing an immigrant song:
Less like butterflies who migrate,
But more like dislocated nations,
Collateral flesh, caught up in steel thorns.
Rest assured we will survive,
Like leaves of siempreviva,
Even after torn away from our stem,
We will grow our own roots:
Defiant, resilient, and with a stubborn willingness to belong.
We are you.
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 3:30 PM UTC
It was considered expedient
To change the unit of measure
To change scale,
To make redundant all
That could be wasted,
Naturally.
Internal communications
Will contrive suitable verbs
To conceal the brutality of profit
To provide surety as required
To the senior management team
As for the rest:
To those whose insecurities
Are relied upon, whose
Middles have expanded, aged
Receded, human resources
Will issue notice of packages
And opportunities of relocation.
The restructure will require
The recruitment of some
Of the hungry young;
Fresh graduates on the newly
Introduced basic scales.
What of your work you enquire?
Those value added strategies
Of differentiation
Of corporate responsibilities,
Family friendly policies?
In this age of austerity
Such approaches, old man,
Are as relevant as a hard drive,
Or hard copy, this is a cloud
Sourced post-crunch
Twitterverse we inhabit,
This is a time for new prospects
This is cloud cuckoo land.
Mar 26, 2010
Mar 26, 2010 at 3:06 AM UTC
turn out the lights
and lock the door
my heart can’t live
here anymore
I beg don’t laugh
it’s not a joke
a heart won’t stay
where the heart was broke
my heart still beats
my heart moves on
but it’ll take some miles
til the cracks are gone
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 12:25 AM UTC
-june 14 2014-
Falling, falling, falling
No destination
No thoughts of climbing
No plans of rescue
Just an origin and the
Tripping down an endless spiral
Twisting, ripping limbs
Soft arms frozen by murky darkness
Scalding hands melting away
Chewing at flesh
Lukewarm lips, never aflame
Forever longing to feel
Stiff bones, still tendons
A weak mind, flooded lungs
Tongue ablaze with unborn thoughts
Ringing ears with ghostly silence
Beating heart, limp pulses
Barely alive, just enough
Catching the feeling
Of leaving
Of slipping
Of falling
---ill be uploading all of my poems from poetfreak bc i don't want to lose them since the site is shutting down, so hurray for spam---
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 11:05 AM UTC
I am sitting in front of a small coffee shop
listening to the birds chirp and smelling the rise
of cigarette smoke infiltrating my nostrils from
a barrista's hand.
random thoughts rise like smoke from my mind
as I sit and settle into myself and just take in
a everyday of this new city I arrived at last Wednesday.
The life of the urban jungle of D.C. seems far removed from
this sleepy quiet neighborhood. No sirens every 30 minutes or sounds of construction in the distance.
All this reflecting takes me further back and makes me muse about how I got from being an angry punk kid to now a 34 year old, who just bought a home with his wife and expecting a new baby. I am grateful for everything that's been given to me, and especially for the ability to be grateful.
Maybe I don't really need to figure out how, but just here and now fully open to the present.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 8:44 AM UTC
Oh love,
we're drowning in the monotony of motionless.
forget food, air, coitus
Maslow forgot something- movement.
not even, relocation.
simple movement.
Oh love,
let's pack a bag- buy a map
I feel like falling asleep to east coast sunsets tonight
waking up to Rocky's
wind through hair
sand between toes
let's fly a kite
ride a bike
*let's move *
seated, we die a thousand times
let's break in a pair of new shoes
to an afternoon hike
pack a picnic basket of pb&j;'s
move, darling, move
until our legs give out
and slumber wraps us sweetly in her arms...
in one another's arms...
somewhere far from where we began
move.
conclusions and origins are separate for a reason
life may have symmetry, love
but let's make sure not to mistake that with stagnation.
Oct 19, 2011
Oct 19, 2011 at 6:26 PM UTC
Indoctrination of the American nation
Relocation of native populations
Slaves labor, creating plastic toys
To distract the little girls and boys
With media propaganda saturation
To numb your brain from realization
That we're living a lie as children die
To fill your tank so you can drive
To Wal-Mart for some motherfuckin' Cheesy Poofs
That scoop the dip in which you ****
Lay waste to nature's beauty abundant
Political doublespeak redundantly redundant
Television's collision with consciousness
Has dimmed your awareness to idiocy
In an illusion of democracy
Where only the rich have control
As upon us all they take their toll
And we blindly follow, believing as we hear
Their scheming lies of security and fear
It's time the power structure fell
No more this **** to buy and sell
Reallocation of the hoarded wealth
And power for all people, not oneself
Mental stasis, awaken from this hypnosis
And avert the coming catastrophic crisis
Our leaders are masters who march us to disaster
As the clash of our cultures ignites so much faster
Than mere cognition, dimmed by television
Can comprehend the impending collision
Of conflicting interest in collective vision
It's time to rise with a battle cry
And tell the Feds we won't lay down and die
We'll evolve and resolve the situation
And bring new meaning to revolution
An end to the media's web of confusion
Confusing reality with an illusion
Conspiratorial governmental parallels
A trumpet's blast, as Babylon.... fell.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC
There was this season for many reason
A failed ambition or bad decision
Too much subtraction, no single addition
Pictures of low resolution, everything in demotion
But surely... Life must go on...
Days of self damnation because of wrong position
Flowers that need attention for admiration
Head that was full of delusions that needs calibration
Victims of disqualification without any consolation
But definitely... Life must go on...
Minutes of demoralization, hours of depression
Roads of devastation no clear relocation
Eyes shed in repetition because of hard reason
Goodbyes to all special persons for their final destination
But simply.... Life must go on.....
Written: October 23, 2014 at 11:35 PM
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 7:39 PM UTC
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Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 11:07 AM UTC
I have been here before
My soul sighs
When my mind conjures up these words
In that particular order
Combined emotions
Of relief, grief and satire
Often follow suit
Behind those words
I have been here before
I am reminding myself
That we faced this thing before
And that we faced it then
Simply means getting back on
That same horse
We rode it out last time
And we can do so again
I have been here before
Heartbreak
Loss of a loved one
Hard times
Relocation
Job loss
Scratch
Irrespective of the cause
I have been here before
Do we really want to
Go through something again
We've already faced and conquered
A resounding no and a sigh
Combined with resilience and retaliation
And yet a soft smile
I have been here before
We know the horse and the road
Better this time around
Reluctantly
Unnecessarily
Even so
I have been here before
And might be again
But now we stand up and saddle up
Bring what we have left over from the last round
And ride this one out
The scared little me that doesn't want to
And the big strong me who remembers how to
With a smile and a sigh
I have been here before
We were OK afterwards then too
We remember
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 5:41 AM UTC
Gave of salacious self, your just due
My one and only dream I wanted to come true
Earthbound after a meteorite crash
Healing properties within this castaway shall come to pass
Wings has been tenderly clipped
The aftermath of a silent emotional eclipse
Walking, running, and soaring, keep flapping but slowly slipping
Heartbeat dipping, ripping
Slowly suffocating as I’m contemplating
Feelings keep overruling, dominating
Restless from stagnation
Mental searching for relocation
Suspended, spent, recessed from the relent
In the hunt for a pleasurable escape to soar to the sky
No questions no earthly whys
A Galactic Dream Weaver
Da Vinci Code, I’m picking up my telephone receiver
The Holy Grail secrets for my mind to set sail
The marooned answers found in life’s details
Standing in vain, waiting for a starship from a cosmic believer
No expressive deceivers
My Mazda 5, an Uber, or a Lyft driver can’t get me up there
Without restraints, I need to inhale celestial air
Showered by a beautiful spiritual given rainbow
Sentiments offered from a treasured chest as they stream when they softly flow
A Gordian knot devoid of hope, a beanstalk, for me, too slow
Something one must know
As your presence comes to offer me a sweet riding tow
Spirit is now on the run
Trying to astral plane beyond the sun
I need to glance down from the stars
Up and beyond, emotions, mistakes seem so miniscule and far
The beginning, the ending, where I descended
The integrity of a tattered angel, a cocoon of self, until my cerebral cortex is Heavenly mended
As my earthly presence blends within
Keeping a rein on life’s sins
I do not know if my salsa dance has come to an end
The absence of loss as emotions reflect to bend
Does time ever remain the same
Please don’t forget my name
On the contrary
For the love given from a twinkling star, and a kiss from an earthbound fairy
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 11:15 AM UTC
from me."
please don't look at me when I am so far from my being
so far from home
so dismantled and disfigured
but where do you hide yourself when its so clear to be seen
when damage urges to be done
My loveliness is gone when my body is caught between rock and bone
these fingers that grasp me are ******
they don't respect life, trust, or love
they bend it
they break it
they pervert its meaning
and make me document with full detail
the behavior and occurrences of each assault into my bruised hot skin
so that as my consciousness floods back
I have full relocation of my marred behavior
for as long as I have a body to be seen
from the corner of my eyes I't will always be glimpsed
even as I look longingly at you
hoping to reach once more for your soft healing, mesmerizing, touch
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 9:19 PM UTC
I been writing like a mad man and had my works passport get stamped in multiple countries .
Australia, Italy , Germany , England, Indiana .
Okay Indiana was more a state run mental institution but I was published there none the less and I liked finger painting graham crackers and crazy women so probs to them.
I mean I didn't want to visit there or anything no offense but im not a big fan off fields and chainsaw art .
I stayed busy flask in pocket and my mind constantly towards the page .
I had gained respect but still I always found my way home .
For better or worse Hello has been the house that me and few other writers built I was here from day one i'm the flaw you just can't hide .
Everyone's favorite black sheep and all around lovable train wreck.
My place was permanent .
Like me or hate me you couldn't ignore me .
Well you could try but I usually won people over or annoyed them to the point of blocking me and joining the witness relocation program but enough about my past relationships .
I was taking some time off from three months straight of chasing publication.
I posted a write at this place I called home for so many years .
It was solid as a brick **** house .
Then some kid posted a write that was total **** but had a pic of her cleavage in the restroom mirror .
It trended in two seconds had a bunch of ***** ******** telling lies in vague hopes to see more .
I knew the ship wasn't sinking it long since met its demise on the icy dark oceans floor .
You just can't compete with *******
I set my sails to the closest port .
I would share some drinks and maybe see some familiar faces .
I believe a pirate is better suited to roam than be food for the ***** .
My future is in the wind not lost within the depths .
Stay crazy hope are ships pass in the night .
And if ever we find ourselves in the same port .
First rounds on you .
Never sit and wait for decay on any level will consume you .
Stay crazy
Gonz
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 11:30 AM UTC
our host fears nothing more than he fears the rodeo. he is drunk and rubbing his plain face with a coarse sponge. he thinks the presentation of blood on his cheekbones is proof of clown make-up. I side with the group labeling him as harmless. those in the disagreeable group lock themselves away in our host’s bathroom. though the group is small, its two most vocal members have been struggling with their weight and a third is quietly pregnant. I take it upon myself to worry about the amount of air the group has. when the door is unsurprisingly jammed, I keep calm and remove my shoes just as what looks like rust water floods from beneath the door and carries them behind me to where the host is not dancing after all but stomping his bare feet alternately square on a hamster. my best friend of three days wants to save the hamster but cannot believe the short length of its tail. I try to explain that I am not helpless. that I am steeped in tradition and was formerly employed as the guy who chews down the fingernails of professional bull riders.
the thing about ****** is that you haven’t done it until you’ve done it with me.
**** is a harsh word for relocation.
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 3:22 PM UTC
Breaking waves, folding in river bends (meandering)
with an effortless grace
Cupids mouth, foaming to return -
broken and filling up the landscape.
Cracked horseshoes
waltzing across a vibrating brain,
all the worlds night
quartz, cutting drunk into
your Green city.
Banishing a sense of self
uprooting positivity, displacing our discontempt -
boil out the water from the soup of human condition.
Boredoms grace.
We're rotting, lizards tongues
wearing the past, skin deep
Imbued.
a morbid relocation of entrance
authority, a fee
Reflecting light off your face
always leading back,
back towards a tabletop nausea.
Caked in powder,
i make my way over -
licking my finger and rubbing away
at the cracks formed years ago
wandering in and out of Escher's wet dream,
hoping to settle mind and body
numbed and lethargic,
medicine doesn't help.
An open patio door,
grooming in the whisped brown dawn -
7.34am
God's rags, crisp
displacing particles against the mountain lip
red light brewing in the observers mind.
Cubes of water
pushing through into tomorrows wake
all unwrapping like 1,000 words
diluted into one second.
I'm tired
appetite gone
graven, knowledge of the inside of my mouth
encyclopedic and (almost) boring.
It's closed again
at the crux of abandon,
the skies youthful,
built from wood, holding up the trees.
Excess - child's play for Atlas.
Rogue, electric Blue.
Mollusc in hand
living, lipless
just outside the geopolitical borders
heading back towards maturity.
Nihil,
projects objectivity, sycamore due, borders
as happiness combed our soft necks.
A situation is only what you make of it,
we're all in on this
living together in leaves -
by roadsides
making homes where we sleep.
The sky is on fire
exploding into fruition
as hot chlorine licks against unwashed belly buttons and hair
going blind and stripping back
it breaks you.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
assembly point
first floor
second floor
P
$1.00
per hour
third floor
others
panelbeaters paint division
spies heckler automotive
no thoroughfare
flooring centre - "fashion for your floor"
kitchen things
relocation sale
plumbing laser - "totally dependable"
Stop!
convictions end careers
science
/three
/fire
/wardens
/tally
/board
design + garden landscapes
All violators will be towed at owners expense
(doorway in constant use)
National mortgage and agency
(coy of nz ltd)
"manufactures of quality soft furnishings"
inward goods ->
ABSOLUTELY
nothing to be left outside of
"floor"
at all times
(community probation service)
"salsa moves New Zealand"
Ice cold pacific fish shop
Inward
outward
goods
(Clearance 3.1 metres)
<-chapel office->
hot pies fish and chips burgers milkshakes ice cream fried chicken
STOP
(funeral services limited)
full system fabrications: - "free quotes!"
hand painted / illuminated
The art of refinishing;
Leaders in worldwide approval 
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 6:40 AM UTC