"repaired" poems
~*for M. both
a living one, and
imagined, too*~
10/5/25
just woke up and began to work;
the muses are cofuse-ed
they think when head hits pillow.
it is there then the~moment to
refill my head
with verses glorious, alas, alack,
into the sub-subconscious furnace they go
to melt, meld or even die
iron of ironies; 90% of these words,
were adrift in my head when I
to bed, "for to be repaired" last night, and
only came to be recalled @ 2:34 am
when them muses and you guru,
woke me to 'get outta bed', and you
who
bids me sleep,
this clashing arousal,
starts engine's cylinders to begin
live~composing, stoking and stroking,
to awake, create, reassemble and uncover
the poetic notions trans~versing my head
one-day, someday they will depart,
for cleaner, greener Champs-Élysées,
where reborn poets speak all languages
with equal fluency, eagerly awaiting
my spouting in Hindi (already ✅), in
Hebrew and any/all dialecticals this
god earth
ever mothered
And there you have it, my FPOTD, dear m.,
SUNday 10/5 & writ in the city where I am alive
in the Den of Writing, where the muses
like to hang out with their old companion,
until such time they will come to inhabit
a younger, well rested, equally restless,
a not-my-mine mind
<nml>
Oct 5, 2025
Oct 5, 2025 at 3:08 AM UTC
,***how do you know when
(a human is too broken?)***
<•>
human too broken?
like the light bulb, removal from its fixture, a simple shaking revelation of the tinkling filament spent, something that cannot be repaired, the only option is replacement and that makes
you cry
the empty box of oatmeal raisin cookies, you find secret’d,
hid by you, not to be found by you
at the bottom of the kitchen garbage,
but box betrayal, by the chartreuse tipped box lid sided
peeking upwards, asking, silencing screaming,
what did I do to deserve
this degrading
like the blouse now too tight that it brings stares as the buttons strain, unwelcome attention unintended,
you know it but still pretend not to see,
for you both once loved that silky guise that so
heightened the high tender, the match of your pink rose skin letting, no! making
your eyes glisten, like broken filament glass, on the sidewalk,
recalling the pleasured admiration,
rain remembered from the
prior priority of a life consisting of only
perfect gifts
so mean revert to the poseur question; this is how...
remove the human from a fixed place, whimpering-threatened,
you may hear clear the crackle cackling of the innard shards against the misperception of a body intact,
even if you do,
no repair service you want, can be found, see it nowhere,
is it even
anywhere advertised?
the body presumed intact is secret’d under a tactile coverlet,
holey scupperrd holy cuttered
so that the cells and bicuspids, the threads
no longer function in a tandem,
you keep it in the closet closed,
in the back, deep hid, where,
when it screams why,
it can be safe ignored,
because ‘betrayed’ is no longer a word,
in your globe's dictionary,
the parental controls activated by you to
save your own inner child’s unconstrained confusion,
it has been removed
so the broken glass, the clothes you dressed each other,
if not weep-well,
well enough hid,
the fit is off,
the fit is off,
the coverlet ripped so bad and neither cares
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 11:17 AM UTC
To all the goodbyes
I say goodnight
To everyone that dies
I hope it's bright
To everyone;
With a razor
Hand of pills
Tied rope
Dangling keys
Extreme height below
Finger over a light trigger
Electricity at hand
Open propane tank
Empty plate, with full glass
Stop, think about who you're leaving behind
I know my words aren't going to stop you, but just read
Did you bother to write and leave a note?
Is it worth it then?
Saying you're sorry, knowing you'll leave someone behind?
Stop. Think about why you're doing it
Do you have nobody?
Think about your opportunities that'll fly past
The chance of ever meeting someone?
Did you lose someone?
Think about if you'll actually see them again?
Being bullied?
Fight back, with whatever you have
Life shoved you down?
No, I'm not asking you to get up!
I'm telling you to get your *** into a nap
Think about all the possibilities that might not be
Think of all the opportunities and people in the future
Think of your legacy
Think of anything except the pain
Now balance the pain and everything else
Want to jump? Skyfall
Want to shoot? Paintball and games
Want to hang? Bungee
Want to overdose? Take 10% of it and party
Suffocate in propane gas, or blow up? Cook a nice meal, invite a friend or family. Surround yourself. No friends and family? Find a friend, build a family.
Want to speed wrong side of the road? Speed on the right side of the road and get carried with the wind, do it over again
Want to cut yourself? Cut off the pain and wrong influences
Electrocute yourself? Rather save electricity and watch a good movie with friends or family. Have none? Watch a movie alone, play a game online. Make friends, build a family
Want to starve yourself so you can get drunker and finally forget it all, when your liver gives in? Eat a lot more, blow off some steam at the gym and build a body that girls/guys would like, attract them and make new friends. Drink with friends.
I've tried many things, some of them didn't work out, or I couldn't stay awake longer. Create new dreams if the old ones died. Work hard for them. Achieve something
"At least leave a ******* legacy behind" is what my bestfriend, Steph used to say
"You can get out of this alive, but maybe a little ****** up, but anything damaged can be repaired" My bestfriend Josh used to say
"Life can carry you away without what you thought you needed" my bestfriend Divene used to say
Even more quotes from people I've lost in my life, so I ask you just think about it all
Still going through with it? Remember it's a one way ticket
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 7:16 AM UTC
Teamwork Solves The Problem
They say “two minds are better than one.”
Nothing could be truer.
As I watched a friend and his relative, patiently, take apart and fix a broke appliance.
I relaxed and observed.
The two had the item repaired and figured out quicker than one whose questions are the parts in which the other can answer when there, with him, aiding in the battle of winning the war to piece together a needed tool , that needs mending.
Through answered questions from a partner well answering problems, the other had faced,
piecing together the problem, through help and sweet and strong reliance.
Upon another to help in rougher times.
I remarked on such, the phrase, as they smiled.
In agreement…it wa voted unanimously.
That :”two minds are better than one”
Simultaneously….we all nodded.
It was a new motto on which we have started to have styled…
Even more so, even a “ton” of minds wishing to achieve the same goal - to fix a broken moment…
or even a city that is in disrepair.
such, through unity, the item was finished and the conversation had ended….
It is alike war and conflicts…… ….
Having people, ready with you, voluntarily by your side…
Is better than being too tall for one’s own good…or even better motives…
If he fails to see that “one is not an island…”
“Nor is one an army…”
Common Sense tells him to ask for “brother’s in arms”
which overrides any strong form of blind pride..
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 6:53 PM UTC
I'll sing of all the ways I miss you
and how this sorrow came to be
the verses, lies I should have whispered
the chorus, truths in harmony.
The melody will break the silence
and call your broken heart to me
to be repaired by love unyielding
to broken hymns in minor key.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 5:31 AM UTC
I see an ugly side of me that no one else can see,
And I wonder what would they do if they see this part of me,
This ugly, hideous, part of me,
Longing to be fixed, controlled, repaired.
Each time I try to change for the better,
Inevitably, I keep on succumbing myself to it, ****** in it,
Tormenting myself, and regretting what I've done, eventually,
Without fail, again and again,
Repeating the act.
Who am I lying to?
Not the world, but myself,
And who do I put the blame onto?
Not the world, but myself,
It's binding me tightly,
I can't get free,
Will never ever be.
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 8:01 AM UTC
What if there's a door that's always sitting there.
The surface is bare.
And it carries a mysterious air.
No matter what people do to the door that just sits there.
The next morning the door is always repaired.
Something so curious like the door.
Everyone finds it a bore.
After all it's just a boring old door.
After seeing the damage disappear you would think people would write lore.
But the door isn't interesting, the door is a bore.
The door's been places.
The door has guarded libraries full of bookcases.
The door has seen everything from schools to fireplaces.
Whenever the place, the door has been goes away,
the door is always there insistent to stay.
But eventually the door gets found and gets transported away.
The door doesn't change.
The door is always a door but no one thinks it's strange.
But the door moves from place to place.
No one knows where or which door frame the door will choose as a base.
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 1:09 AM UTC
749
All but Death, can be Adjusted—
Dynasties repaired—
Systems—settled in their Sockets—
Citadels—dissolved—
Wastes of Lives—resown with Colors
By Succeeding Springs—
Death—unto itself—Exception—
Is exempt from Change—
7.3k
Holding a pen in hand, preparing pitch-black ink for a blank paper,
I begin with gentle, delicate movements, letting it slide over it.
One line follows another, one without any bother, any care to it.
A regular starshaped polygon, surrounded by a simple circle has been made, one which holds meaning to it, hidden underneath ink.
Some might gaze at it as a sign of a greater evil, heresy or worse,
Others might watch it in awe, a sign of protection a symbol of hope.
A maze with two ends has been made, each with its own belief.
However, my tired eyes, which have been worn, gaze at it and see beauty, the connection of each line contains grace, closed by the circle.
Thus a smile has been cast on my face, as I look at it another time,
Noticing how the black ink has taken the papers purity my cheering sight perishes, saddens in an instant, what I had drawn had become unrecognizable, as the paper spread the ink and distorted this image.
The broken in the light, moist and now fragile, drops through, in wonderous, ominous distraction, leaving a great hole in the middle.
Unable to be ever repaired the paper finds its trail into the trash,
A puddle left of what it was, mixed with the pitch black, had to be cleaned up, so that another attempt could be made, another try.
So I pick up my pen once again and connect the lines with a smile.
~ Umi
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 10:51 AM UTC
(Pompeii/Florence, 1997)
Vulcan was real, alive as you were,
you and your language, long dead now.
Your town was prosperous, with its paved streets,
bars, bath-houses, brothels,
mosaics, painted walls, graffiti.
Your domestic gods too were real to you;
they had saved you before,
and when the superhuman hammer blows shook
your houses, you repaired them,
decorated in greater splendour,
erected a temple to your protectors.
But Vulcan was not appeased - years are not long
to the lord of earth and fire.
This time he struck swiftly, sending you death
from his mountain, overwhelming you
as you ran. Your garden
gave you no protection,
hot fumes choked you,
hot ash surrounded you,
sealed in your tomb as you died.
The ones who excavated your town
marvelled at its completeness,
and in the ash that filled your garden
they found hollows.
Filling the hollows with plaster,
they found . . . not you,
but echoes of yourselves,
like statues in a museum.
We came to see you, and after that
to the Academy, standing in awe
at David's perfect marble humanity.
But we were troubled by the others,
the uncompleted ones, the Prisoners,
their twisted limbs, hidden faces,
frozen in the act of emerging
from the stone, recalling too painfully
in their unfinished creation
your own agonised poses
as you died.
*"I had seen birth and death,
but had thought they were different."*
.
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 3:02 PM UTC
Tonight watching the waves
break over Dead Woman's
Shoals quite a ways away
through the windows
of the Riverview
where I once thought the bar
was the bottom of a boat
scarred deep from the drink
on the rocks and sand bars
until I realized it was a coffin
shellacked black
as the hazards of marriage
between a waterman
and a lonely woman
black as the soft leather
of the stool climbed
and kicked away
black as the water
the night
you found her there
still swinging
from the rope
of the nets
she repaired
for her man
while he was away
chasing the catch
deep in the darkness
of the black waves.
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 11:45 PM UTC
a full moon doth shine
through my window
sweet sublime
I am cleansed, repaired, inspired
for myself I care, love and admire
I rub oils into my skin and apologize
for my reticence, my fear
and by the light of la lune
I let the whole world in again.
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC
It hurts to stay,
but it hurts to leave,
and on paper,
the words find me,
the words that maybe
could put a name to
whatever we are,
because it is not "just friends"
We poke each other
too much to be "just friends",
your bag held my jacket
too long to be "just friends",
your hands stroked my hair
two times more than "just friends"
And whenever you say
"It's okay,"
my mind listens
because at that moment
when a wish and love
are in a perfect paste,
my mind feels okay...
So tell me why now,
whenever I speak your name,
my tongue burns,
oh tell me
when will you learn
that people are not games,
that if you keep pressing
the reset button,
a person might just vanish away...
You make me feel
like the most beautiful flower,
because it's always me
you pluck from the dirt,
it's always you that
trims away all my hurt...
But in your hands, I die
I've died a million times,
And I can't find
a drop of you in this ocean,
am I swimming on my own?
We're both sailors at sea,
but you're steering
this ship terribly,
I do not ship the
situation we're in,
How can love be fun,
when we're both conflicted,
our words restricted,
over-addicted to overthinking,
overtwisting every little thing,
until I am not sure
if I love you,
and you're not sure
if you want me...
But take it easy,
it's not like I'm in despair,
break me;
force a scalpel into my heart,
there's nothing of my own
that I haven't repaired,
I'm caught between
wanting to strip you
of your breath, and
wanting to keep you alive,
even if it'd result in my death.
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 6:17 AM UTC
I am crazy enough to want to be with you.
The craving is cruelly immense.
I am crazy enough to love only you.
The feeling is truly intense.
I am crazy enough to perfectly see you.
The flaws are secluded.
I am crazy enough to not see the lie of you.
The pain you cause is excluded.
I am crazy enough that no pain hurts me deeply.
The wound is convinced to never be shown.
I am crazy enough to forgive you for whatever reason.
The issue is decided all on her own.
I am crazy enough to trust your every word.
The persuasive tone defeats all doubt.
I am crazy enough to think you don’t do it on purpose.
The subliminal actions are pointed out.
I am crazy enough to say they're not real.
The truth is something I refuse to believe.
I am crazy enough to not care about myself.
The heart continues to be worn on my sleeve.
I am crazy enough to do anything.
The one you once loved will always be here.
I am crazy enough to admit that person is me.
The instant you call, I'll immediately appear.
I am crazy enough to drop everything to get to you.
The things I’d do are unthinkable.
I am crazy enough to save you from any danger
The effort inside of me is unsinkable.
I am crazy enough to let you use me.
The hope helps me think otherwise.
I am crazy enough to give you everything I have.
The hurt, I know, will oversize.
I am crazy enough to not care what happens to me.
As long as you are happy.
I am crazy for you and the joy you bring.
I hope this doesn’t sound too sappy.
I am crazy enough to keep on trying.
The damage can be somewhat repaired.
I am crazy enough to risk failure.
At least I showed you that I cared.
I am crazy enough to walk in the pouring rain.
The coldness of the weather won't stop me.
I am crazy enough to think I'm invincible.
The pieces that are left wish to agree.
I am crazy enough to prove to you how strongly I feel.
The energy inside is a fresh supply.
I am crazy enough to face the deepest darkness.
I can save you in a blink of an eye.
I am crazy enough to put myself out there to protect you.
The shield of my body won't let anything through.
I am crazy enough to wash away all your fear.
The touch of our fingers is the cue.
I am crazy enough to want to be crazy forever.
The comfort of your company is top of the line.
I am crazy enough to be crazy for you.
The way I am, is the master's design.
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 5:57 PM UTC
True forgiveness is not just forgive and forget
True forgiveness is to forgive and remember
It is an act of will to let go of the hurt, whether or not the other person deserves forgiveness
The Forgiveness frees us from hate or other negative emotions that can hold us bound
Forgiveness can be like a bridge sometimes opening up an opportunity
for some relationships to be repaired, even if they are not I choose forgiveness
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 4:57 PM UTC
It was the day the toilet broke,
the day the bank was robbed
when my wife walked out,
suitcase in hand. Her head
blown off on the pavement
in the gunfire between bank robbers
and police. It was that kind of day.
That evening I had the toilet repaired.
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 2:14 PM UTC
Miracle factory
Fix me till I'm cured
Change my thoughts
Until I'm reassured
Miracle factory
Please do not give in
I'm always staying strong but
My weight is about to win
Miracle factory
Why did you let me go
I'm not repaired, I'm nothing compared
To the emotions that I don't show
Miracle factory
Now that you've shut down
I've search for self esteem but
It's no where to be found
Miracle factory
I'll always say goodbye
Because once your gone, my weight wins
And eventually we'll all die
Miracle factory
Fix me till I'm dead
You haven't changed my thoughts but
You've overlooked them instead
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 7:03 AM UTC
Does one become more beautiful
after being broken?
Could they be repaired with gold
until their heart and mind
are no longer numb?
Will the harsh voices
that caused each crack
disappear............
into a billion pieces
as if never spoken?
If so,
please paint each crack in my heart
and stop.......
where this pain flows from.
Copyright @2013 - Neva Flores - Changefulstorm
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 11:13 PM UTC
Whenever I get on the NH1 Grand Trunk Road,
I feel the pride of it being the oldest highway,
Built even before the documentation period.
King Ashoka got it built in the 3rd century B.C.,
Emperor Sher Shah got it repaired in the 17'th,
The British Company utilized it in 1857 1st war.
It was then gotten repaired only a bit by them,
Repairing such a long highway isn't easy at all,
It runs from Kabul up to Kolkata and to Dhaka.
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 6:24 AM UTC
To a sky which showed no sign of light,
Black smoke was rising, from no other than a flagship which sailed across the stormy ocean, Nagato, ready to fight was however at ease.
Until we encountered two enemy ships, a Kongou and a Tirpitz.
Both of them, with a merciless sight fired everything they got, a hard decision was to be made, who shall hit us if we dodge, who shall not?
The Kongou, landed some hits as the sea consumed the others shells,
Just overpenned, lucky for us it seemed, until we re-adjust our angle,
What does the future hold for one who survived but couldn't protect her friends, as the sun no longer rises these memories return.
It didn't take long, the weakspot of one of them was their petty armor,
Kongou sank, spilling her tears into the water she was unable to escape from, another turn was made, it was the final battle, final hope,
Reparing some damage in the little time we had, Nagato drove like an absolute mad man, left, right continuesly just so our ship would not end up like their Kongou, our citadel was an easy target, after all.
Shells are to be exchanged, smoke escapes from our guns, this lady was refusing to let her life slip away until she at least do what she could, exhausted and almost out of ammo, we landed a lethal strike.
Watching the enemy ship slip away before our eyes, knowing that Nagato was to sail almost into the same fate made us then realise...
Even if the damage could be repaired and parts exchanged, brought anew and even if we make it back in one piece without capsizing:
Forever will be the marks of battle painted in her burnt, wounded steel.
~ Umi
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 8:14 AM UTC
damaged
a word never described it so perfectly
it functions good enough
but wear and tear over time
has taken away the shine
damaged
like scrap parts sold for cars
once it was beautiful and whole
but it sits on its own
and even if it does find another home
or something to complete
it will still stand out
like mismatched socks
damaged
when they look at him they see character
every dent tells a story
of tough times and how they only made him stronger
but in her they see something wrong
a machine broken beyond repair
if she could she would smash her entire being and watch the pieces shatter
because at least something obliviated
doesn’t have a false sense of hope
blindly dragging it along
wondering if one day things can be repaired and the damage be undone
damaged
we don’t know when along the way it happened but it did
and it has altered everything about her
from the way she smiles to the way she sees the world
i wish i could show her how to re-wire her brain so her thoughts can be reset
and the pieces can rearrange until they feel like they are where they’re supposed to be
but she is damaged
i am damaged
a word has never described me so perfectly
damaged
Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 12:04 AM UTC
#A year older, a year wiser
A wisdom always in the making
Nourished by experience
Vitaminized by failures
Strengthened by aspirations
Built on the foundation of hope!
Year after year
Brick after brick
Wiser
Cemented by determination
Watered by dreams
Cracked by blows
Repaired by a mason
Working round the clock
Anointing healing!
Get up man.
*You are a year older
But a year wiser*
And the fruits of this wisdom
Often unseen
Oftener unknown
Ripen inside
And then no more just yours
Scatter in the surround
Beget nurseries of wisdom
Building, vitaminizing, strengthening
Repairing healing
Your foundation
Your hope!#
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
1133
The Snow that never drifts—
The transient, fragrant snow
That comes a single time a Year
Is softly driving now—
So thorough in the Tree
At night beneath the star
That it was February’s Foot
Experience would swear—
Like Winter as a Face
We stern and former knew
Repaired of all but Loneliness
By Nature’s Alibit—
Were every storm so spice
The Value could not be—
We buy with contrast—Pang is good
As near as memory—
3.4k
A pigeon loft on the protected building list!
We should add a Fishermans hut they will all be missed.
They are built around the docks hung with nets and pots,
That are repaired and stacked for the next tidal slot.
The smell of fresh fish and tarred rope in the air,
Lots to sell and some spire.
Boats are moved and huts come down,
Progress changes Seaham town.
Replaced by cafés and sailing boats,
No more lobster pots with coloured floats.
Improvements are made so we can move on,
What can we save before it’s all gone?
Apr 21, 2010
Apr 21, 2010 at 11:47 PM UTC
I came out of the north-west
Staggering from the storm
The surgeons had repaired my body
And my mind hung by one hinge
So I headed for the coast of Wales
To assume the healing rhythm of the sea
And breathe the briny air
Where no-one knew me
Nor called my worn out name
Sweet freedom in isolation
And so, in smiling solitude
I walked and smoked too much
Staring at the moody ocean
As we all inevitably do
As though it holds answers
And indeed it does
The answer is "being"
One hot but breezy day
I followed the coast from north to south
Not too far but far enough
Until I came upon a harbour
Tiny and insignificant
But a harbour nonetheless
With a clutch of small boats
Bobbing and swaying lazily
On the backwater slack water tide
And somewhere close by
A nautical bell tolled the rhythm
Of an endless heedless movement
And an oddly comfortable melancholy
Rocked me in it's arms
Lost and found
Beginning and end
In as much as everything matters
Though nothing matters much
This place was nothing to me
No more than countless others
But that harbour bell
So patient and so constant
Touched something deeper than knowledge
Perhaps it was the state of my health
Or the glowing heat of the day
But some vulnerable receptor
Vibrated to that gentle toll
I've been in many places in my life
And seen wondrous famous sights
All seared into my minds eye
But their memories will last no longer
Than the haunting harbour bell
By Phil Roberts
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 5:36 AM UTC