"remodeling" poems
im a self describing a self
a face on a liquid surface
a plasticity
a brain
a three pound infinity
always remodeling itself
and making new copies
a copy
of
a copy
of
a copy
a massive accumulation of copies
each a slight distortion
from it's original eminence
a history of minute alterations
all subtle deceptions
my so-called reality
a memory
of
a memory
of
a memory
a repetition pouring the self out
self corrupting the self
until it is somebody else
a fibbing shifty double-dealing soft machine
trying to remain intact
it's signature
a disjunctured awareness
my cells talk **** about each other
i'm more microbes than human
every synaptic light of the divine casting a shadowed past
a devil to the true origin
a mangled remembering
my pillar of reality
spirit from matter
not the other way around
i no longer recognize myself
am i human
or perhaps a robot
an alien
a walk in
that left the original inhabitant
disembodied
to wander perplexed in a netherworld
lost and crying
or, just a bad copy
of
a copy
of
a copy
of
a co
py
of
a
a
co
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 2:46 PM UTC
Get out your sponges, stippling brushes and pens,
It’s time for makeover-Monday-night to begin.
Think Winky Lux, L’Oréal, Urban Decay,
Maybelline, Armani and Fabergé
It’s a black magic realm where brushes are wands,
where a carnival of colors are carefully crayoned.
We have palettes aplenty, in kaleidoscope hues,
to create fashion looks, both bold and subdued.
In the realm of makeup fashion, where trends never end,
we remodel each other - for fun - when we can.
Tonight, our new friend Jammie has come to watch us play,
and he even brought two bottles of chardonnay.
Lisa has a ‘Miss Rose’ case, like she saw in Bernadette Peters’
dressing room, on a backstage tour of the Shubert Theatre.
Konjac, Kabuki, Doe foots, Spoolie, Lisa’s got legit tools to use.
“When it comes to makeup,” she says, “always avoid dupes.”
That night I was the chosen face, the excited living canvas.
Lisa’s a practiced artist, her process is brisk and never tedious.
She painted my lips a crimson cherry, alluring and brightly sensuous,
my brows were moonlit art, my cheeks a midnight adumbrated edifice.
Lisa created a special look, where rebellious edge met elegance.
We took some snaps, then I washed it off - but Jammie was impressed!
Jun 6, 2023
Jun 6, 2023 at 10:51 PM UTC
Even the most negative mind can become a shining Light.
For we all have options on what we want to fill our minds.
We rely on the Holy Spirit to work on us, changing us daily.
Remodeling us into the likeness of Christ himself daily.
The more that we seek his positive example filling us with it.
The brighter the Light within us shall shine revealing true Hope.
For only he can give to us true Hope here on the planet earth.
For he is the True Living Savior , whom speak Life into us.
Thus transforming us , into his people and use us to reveal himself to others.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC
Toothaches in the early morning,
a bitter kiss that woke me up.
Toothaches trees in the garden,
I rely on Rose's but she refuses.
so many blackberries and apples on the street
I'm waiting for the next mangoes.
Prosaic, sometimes i wonder the need for
education if i will still follow the ethics of
my grandfather, without remodeling it to
suit my time.
But, when I look pass it i see Lavender
The death tolls have risen
three to four lost to bombing each day
I still see Lavender.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 1:27 PM UTC
Like an old abandoned house,
I have boarded the windows
So no one can see out or in.
The door is locked and double bolted
And the furnace is unlit
Because nobody has gotten close enough
Or close at all,
To the fireplace in the center, slightly to the right
To strike a match and ignite it.
Its cold and dark,
And the ghosts of the past float around,
Warning whoever comes near
That I'm only good for a demolition
Not a remodeling team.
The attic is clustered and filled
With regret
The euphoric sense that I have longed for
Was packed in a box,
Which the previous tenant took
When he left.
The floorboards creak with melancholy
And the deafening silence
Echos the loneliness of a mind
That is both too empty and too full
All at once.
Its beautifully strange
And there's a certain mystery
That draws people to me,
But not enough to make them stay.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 5:41 PM UTC
my delusional mind has committed vacancy
for not quite a while, yet i've grown dull of it.
three to four years ago i was always thinking
don't get me wrong, i think twice as much now
but not like how i used to, just empty thoughts.
i've had people come and go, renovating areas
leaving permanent fixtures
that unfortunately, cannot be replenished
i just hope for a full remodeling someday
a new outlook on this whole forsaken catastrophe
mistakenly, im just lucidly dreaming
a thriving desire of mine that's too good to be true.
- m.n.
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 9:01 PM UTC
Straining your neck to get a second look
At distant locks
Shaking "I tried"
Turning door knobs inside out
Anxious patterns spinning ties
Sweating for warmth
Stepping into socks, enclosed travels
You're too cold to exist
Grabbing anything you can grab in sight
Twisting your mind
To escape living ecstasy
Dreams of you and me
The moon falls upward
The sky falls below while the cars fly
Like a limousine to me
You used to be considered fancy
Six feet under, in my mind
Forgotten parts of cringing discoveries
Lost and found inside miscellaneous medicines
Remodeling harsh eyes
Confused expressions set on autopilot
Degrading, regenerating
Organs and miles of dusted feet
Lost between them that are you
Emotions trample your face
Tracking slush in the cracks of your flaws
Where is the army fleeing?
Desire to feel them burn
Spines form to given foam
But as you lose yourself they trade for former homes
Laying themselves down, unaligned
In different storylines
Dictionaries have answers to everything known
Owning all meanings, meaning nothing at all
Labeling individuals and all things
From avalanches to eruption of mankind
Fix my eyes on you
Scribble languages on napkins
To bring education from there to near
Forget this just to remember.
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 9:41 AM UTC
The day I visited my country of origin let me begin, I crossed the U.S. border dividing Mexico & The United States. It was kinda a long journey, but really exciting. The mission was to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ, and have a good time visiting. I met very humble, respectful people, maybe the streets needed remodeling although things were a little under construction the plain sight was amazingly beautiful. The road was rocky, houses on cliffs, up and down road ways, unknown streets, beautiful city town mall, diverse groups of people, tasty candy, great food, original coca cola not like the U.S. coca cola, good meat and great sunny view I wanna go again some day :)...
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 7:40 PM UTC
i'm constantly piecing myself together
rebuilding and remodeling
gluing, stitching, and stapling
myself back together
so i don't easily fall apart
as i did once before
GM
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 12:38 AM UTC
The eyes of beauty truly stare at me
Working magic on my old cold heart
Erasing all pain I’ve felt with true glee
Remodeling me into a beautiful part
Knowing my pain I walk hand in hand
Inside I feel pure true indefinable love
No one woman or girl can truly stand
God’s gift to my life a true bird, a dove
Greatness awaits our new future as two
Infinity and eternity is boundlessly short
Ripped torn pieces now she is my glue
Lonely never more we are one support
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 11:57 PM UTC
Young darling, you've emerged.
Innocence has abandoned you like a old-time lover.
Sweet girl, the remodeling of your soul is finally in progress.
I know you see it. I could hear your heart banging on the doors to be set free.
Little doll, be afraid.
This world is not what you glimpsed on the magic box.
Development is creeping in like a friendly bandit.
Gentle babe, it's time to add your revolution to history.
For your modification draweth closer.
Youngster, potential is your new spring of encouragement.
Refinement...your vision.
Isolated infant, don't move! Take off your chasity and give it to me now!
Blindly robbed, give me your virtue, open your hands and I'll fill it with the wonder of responsibility.
New time bloomer, welcome.
I honestly feel a great deal of sorrow for you.
You're not alone though. We're all chained to this thing called, change.
Yes change, our old friend, better known as constant.
I know I'm forcing a remodel, but you have no choice in this...we have no choice in this.
Oh my unseasoned meat, I feel it for you. This, this evolutionary transformation.
Enhanced by growth I'll leave you unrecognizable.
Charming child, this inevitable happen is going to kidnap your once free spirit, and lock it in a cage. Never more to be set free.
My sweet joyous juvenile, your obsession with smiles is going to cease. As I slowly decease you urge to run.
The bus is passing, so go stand in the middle.
You'll survive, but only by my tools.
First, trade, then transition, followed by adaption, up next you'll adjust. Add some innovation in there. To conclude your finishing touches will be your revised version.
Good luck, you'll need it. I know I did.
~Gabbriella with 2 b's~
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 8:29 AM UTC
They always say not to let your happiness
Be dependent on something
Or someone
That can leave in an instant
But that's exactly what I find myself doing.
You are the cause of my smile
And the repellent of my frown.
The way your touch covers me
In a seran wrap layer of
Happiness that warms me
Both inside and out,
The way your voice ignites
A fire in my cheeks
And unlocks the cage to a million insects
That fly around my intestines
Bumping into the walls of my organs,
That is something I have become dependent on.
I don't do this,
I don't let down my walls
Usually.
But then you came in,
And knocked them down with every sledgehammer of a smile,
Every bulldozer of a kiss,
And now you're the remodeling team,
Repainting
And heating
The darkest room in the house.
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 5:08 PM UTC
Producing a liquid with so many meanings,
creating pictures right before your mind,
expressing happiness, anger or even facetiousness.
How small can something that essential be?
They will break you so easily, without a doubt,
remodeling every thing you held so dear.
Giving so many wrong impressions
but such a small amount of right ones.
So helpful but never really helping.
Just a simple glance, a glimpse, a quick look,
sold, to the boy with the very dark pair.
you rub them, you close and open them
Capturing this moment, maybe forever
In the end, they'll never let you down.
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 4:03 PM UTC
excess rusted broken shackles
free from ancient gyves
tongues in dungeons no more
a present prisoner of forefather's measures
ears drum no more
notes fall through the cracks
remodeling skips yet another age
future slavers of our descendants
emancipated you stand
a guests to a freeman's world
you are no more
return us to the future
free from the present past.
In mirrored minds we remain.
Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 5:43 AM UTC
We used to say goodbye like it was a ritual
Then it became tradition
And as we found ourselves
in future generations of our self
we can't remember the last time
We tread on broken water
the spout in her neck
running dry
No more, no more goodbye
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 1:26 PM UTC
She asked me what it’s like to fall in love with someone that previously lost their first love to Grim.
I explained that unlike other couples that work together to lay one brick on another to make their own home.
I’ve been repairing a house after it was bombed. This house had marks from the bombing here and there. Deep down in her heart there is a room title first love.
It’s a room I should never open up even if everyone in this world opens up to look at it.
I’ll set my foundation in this home. And remind her that while repairing this house. She won’t have to worry about remodeling ever being done on that room….
Jun 24, 2024
Jun 24, 2024 at 4:03 AM UTC
I knew a couple, in that once upon a time
Where fecundity was a going concern in our circle of friends,
Who’d lost another child mid-pregnancy
(It may have been the third time,
As such evils, oddly enough, tend to arrive as a trinity)
They’d fiercely, defiantly given the child a dozen names,
Including each of their saints’ names
(A finger to the eye of certain relatives,
Who’d implied and occasionally outright sniped
Recreation without procreation is the darkest of sins.)
They had, after a fashion, made a certain piece with all that transpired,
God’s will or vagaries of chance or something in-between,
But some weeks down the line the distaff part of the equation
Began to experience something akin to pure madness,
Finding evil portent and intent and all and sundry
Which they’d touched upon during pregnancy:
Doctors, in-laws, her spouse,
Even the fables they’d read to her unborn child
(The tale of the Three Little Pigs singled out for particular scorn;
*We live in a ******* house made of brick, and what did that get us?*
She all but screamed at her beleaguered husband.)
This all passed after a time, the ceasing of the episodes
Due to the end of some delayed post-partum depression, perhaps,
Or the grim realization that raging against some deaf deity
Is a fruitless, pointless, fretful strut across the stage,
But, in any case, life returned to normal, more or less,
Though her husband found it somewhat disconcerting
How, in the process of doing some semi-necessary remodeling
(Keep her busy, their pediatrician had told him in an aside)
She attacked the old walls in an unused bedroom upstairs
With something very much approximating fury,
The plaster-and-lath flying hither and yon,
The dust hanging in the air everywhere you looked,
Leaving a taste like ashes in their mouths for days afterward.
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 12:00 PM UTC
The ways of man is forward and strange:
love me now
hate me tomorrow,
we need emotional
remodeling, inside and out
we must seek counsel together
because I need someone who understands me.
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 10:46 AM UTC
The concept of aging hits with distaste
The wisdom that stumps life's thirst
A nod to having done it all
As we mantra unfulfilled dreams
Selling dead stars to kids
Revisiting old fears, my debt for words,
My remodeling of how i approach life.... Less enthusiasm
I used to dread today
Grabbing this bleak space
Inviting hairs to my face
Charging mirrors for confidence
Drumming my chest with consolation
I Dreamt like stars do
I used to run with springs for knees
Hopping old pine fences
Sliding down guard rails
Thumping turfs
As my body thuds the floor
Laughter grips my lungs
Back when love was forever
so was heartbreaks
Sunrises were beautiful
Grasshoppers were wondrous
Poodles were guilty pleasures
The world was screaming paint
We Projected puppies and ponies out of clouds
something out of nothing
We made Castles out of sand
Tainted bodies with dusty palms
The alter was a fracture of heaven
And the priest was God
Pale skin and iced veins with a numb heart
Just as Gods would act
Looking for love,
May have drank for love
We danced for love
We fought for love
Love sometimes had a boyfriend
Love said no a lot
Retching sounds and **** stains
Pants worn below waistlines
Cigarettes for the first time
talks of ladies with lighter skin
Female connoisseurs
No more cartoons at 4.....
We! are! men! now!
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 6:09 AM UTC
Everything turns out this way
Your body lust on others
It's fine I'm cold, emotionless
Blank face, pain immobilized
Neutrally dead, mind confused
Thinking to myself, am I just a waste
Of time, space, thoughts
I'm for sure a lost angel
In the midst of a heavy blizzard
The baddest one in town the devil
A rebel trapped in mental asylum
Activist political refugee, socialist
Chemist specialist, I'm far gone
Dead on arrival, my trust is placed
On his promise from the bible
I'll never give into the enemy
Even in desperate extremities
I'll keep my ground, it's not about you
It's about me I guess I'll pick up from here
You're mentally conquered, actions denied
Free will denounced, freedom's been stolen
I guess I'm alone trapped in this zone
Tommy guns strapped like Al Capone
I'm end up spraying led if things get hectic
My life was destined for evil and destruction
Now to begin remodeling a new construction
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 12:01 AM UTC
It was coming on darkness,
It was a Monday, the place was
closed, no lights, but 'say for a
neon Blue and Red Budweiser
sign flashing in the front window.
My father had built this place
over 72 years ago, his dream,
a Fried Chicken Restaurant in
a one trafic light, logging and
two mills town of 2800 souls.
Dad's "Chick-Inn" thrived for a time,
everyone loved his friend chicken,
this long before anyone out West
ever heard of the Southern Colonel.
Dad cooked and Mom ran the front.
On Saturday nights when the hard top
races were on, it was standing room
only. Even the railroad crews stopped
on the tracks and walked crossed the
Interstate to get a bite, Highway big rig
Truckers parked all over town to get a
good home cooked chicken dinner, or
chicken fried beef steak, hot biscuits
and gravy, best coffee for miles around.
That place nearly killed my parents,
opened at 6AM all three meals served
'till around 7PM, one day off on Mondays.
I was around 6 years old, I did not know
or appreciate how hard they slaved.
They persevered for a few years, then
sold the place and we moved on to a
bigger town and they to jobs less stressful,
they even bought their first home ever.
I remember the good smells from that kitchen
and sitting in one of the booths getting pleasant
attention from all the town folks. For my brother
and I even in old age, those are pleasant memories.
The old place looks pretty good, some new paint
and remodeling, the horseshoe counter is gone,
the seating is all different, no booths just tables.
It's now boasting "Fine Mexican Food Served Here",
and now some other family, one of many over all
these years I suspect, toils, mired in their dream of
restaurant ownership. The little town has not changed
much, one Mill closed down; one remains. It has
three traffic lights now and a population of 8000.
The sign outside the Fair Grounds a block away,
advertises "Hard Top Races this Saturday Night
Come One Come All."
Sep 5, 2022
Sep 5, 2022 at 7:29 PM UTC
you talked about
remodeling our
kitchen
and now
youre cooking in
someone else’s
you made plans
for our future
like there was
one
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 8:50 AM UTC
Towering abode,
bottomless abyss,
remodeling the mode,
consolidate the mess...
Round about midnight,
the makers guild gathers it's
gizmos, and assemble
to discuss sound,
sweeping the soul of dormant dust
Dec 21, 2018
Dec 21, 2018 at 11:04 AM UTC
My father's life ended twice:
First, on the day my mom passed away;
Next, when he took his last breath of air
Three months later to the day.
The year was 1998.
How long ago it seems! And yet
So many vivid memories
Make it a year I'll never forget.
Tangled up in straps and tubes
In ICU, my dad spent
His final month lying supine
While monitors beeped and tracked his descent.
Pneumonia for an emphysemic
Is not a kind and welcome friend.
A ventilator served as lungs
And breathed for Dad until the end.
A man who'd always loved ideas
And words, the poor guy had no choice:
Unable to speak because of equipment,
A pad of paper became his voice.
"You've got a strong heart," I said,
Trying to make his spirits rise.
"Too strong," he wrote. I looked away
So he wouldn't see the tears in my eyes.
While standing there, all I could see
Was a man who'd devoted many years
To serving others, challenging our brains,
Making us laugh, assuaging our fears.
I heard him reading us bedtime stories,
Correcting our grammar, playing word games,
Arguing politics with his friends,
Discussing Dickens, Hardy, and James.
I saw a man alone in a car,
Within the glow of a theater marquee,
Patiently waiting late at night
To pick up my friends and me.
I saw him working multiple jobs,
Fixing the plumbing, knocking down walls,
Remodeling the bathroom, and on the courts
Smacking the hell out of tennis *****
Now in his deep blue eyes I could see
A question impossible to dismiss:
"Why after a life so full
Do we THEN have to end up like this?"
Any inkling of an answer
Was stifled with a grimace and frown
As death was tugging at his sleeve
And his body was slowly shutting down.
Life has bitter ironies
That we often bemoan or bewail.
We want to explain the inexplicable.
Our efforts are to no avail.
- by Bob B
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 9:09 AM UTC