"resentfully" poems
for you, we bundle into the car,
the littlest
(half my brother and twice my nuisance)
and the middlest
(14 going on favorite)
the bitterest
(only girl and pen-in-hand)
and the biggestest
(20 years
of bombastic nonsense)
30 minutes and four cornfields later
he'll start.
"i have to ***
"there's a bottle up there, dad."
"dad, i have to ***
"dad."
"dad."
"dad."
and he's going to *** in that ******* bottle
which will inevitably stay in the car for the remaining 8 and a half hours,
sloshing and yellow
too dangerously close to the color of something
you would actually drink.
the two youngest
will get into some sort of argument
some sort of argument that i will intervene in.
"shut up!" he'll say.
"chill out!" i'll shout.
"you chill out!"
and my father and my stepmother
will eye from the front seat
until one of them turns around
("relax, madeline!" sharply).
and then the oldest
like clockwork
will act like he knows more than he does about something
(my father will just chuckle, but i'll begin, "bullsh-" i'll begin, but my stepmother will hiss,
"madeline!" as if i've killed somebody
even though the 8-year-old curses even worse than i do).
he'll make a face at me
and i'll make a face at him.
the littlest will
inevitably
stomp on my seatbelt about 30 times a second
which i will not be able to stand,
and we'll get into an argument which will turn into me
versus
the whole car
(afterwards, much stewing,
and resentfully cranking my ipod up as loud as it will go).
9 hours and 12 thousand cliff-faces later
we'll get there.
we'll make it.
we'll only be
a little worse for the wear.
we will be swept up by our twelve billion aunts
our nine billion uncles
and our three billion cousins,
like we always are.
someday something will be missing.
first it was your back,
and the postponement,
and eventual cancellation of our trip.
then it was your surgeries
(why weren't they working?)
and then it was a series of words i don't understand
stage
inoperable
3
cancerous mass
lung
malignant
radiation
therapy chemo
you may crumple in
on that blackness inside you,
that's eating you alive
one lung at a time,
pushing,
on your back,
until you can't even stand.
the fabric of our family
is plucked by this
disease.
this is my poem, my plea
for you
and for us,
that you not pull into the blackness,
and that you fight the tumors and the tests
and that you win.
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 10:42 AM UTC
What’s in a name?
It is what turns heads
It can cause a quiver in your body
Or a smile to curl onto your lips.
A name can be tarnished
Or reborn.
It can make you stand out from the crowd
Or join the masses.
It is more than what society deems
A socially acceptable form of
Introduction.
So let me introduce myself:
I used to feel my name in harsh syllables
Rooted in the language of my people’s history.
MAR or MIR meant bitter.
Like having the wrong taste in your mouth
Reminding me of MARor –
Eaten on Passover to remember how burdensome,
Difficult and bitter the Jews’ slavery in Egypt was.
IAM (YAM) – ocean.
Tumultuous, never still.
Always swirling and scaring children out of it.
MIRIAM – my Hebrew name.
Bitter sea.
I grew into that name resentfully.
I reacted when I was called that by fellow classmates,
For what else could I do?
But time went by
And I began collecting seashells by the seashore.
The ocean became a treasure and my name
Had a new ring to it.
Yet when eighth grade graduation came around I was given the option
Of writing Mariya instead of Miriam.
I was going to high school where I didn’t know anyone.
So no one needed to know my bitter past.
I also learned that a name was not made up of syllables
But of sweet sounds.
Mmm – like the taste of something so delicious your eyes close
And you feel yourself melting.
Aaa – you’ve just finished your meal and on this hot summer day
You find solace in the cool water running down your back in the shower.
Rrr – racing, running, reaching for the sky.
That’s the sound I want my plane to make when I can hold a piece of
Cloud in the palm of my hand and feel its silver lining.
Iii – the sound of “and” in many languages. The sound of something more,
Reminding me that this is not the end.
Ya – the sound of agreement and conclusion. As if that is all I have to say…so yeah.
Jul 25, 2012
Jul 25, 2012 at 10:21 PM UTC
This will be the best poem
I will ever write.
Who's to say if it will be my last, but one thing it is not is a first attempt at finding the right words to convey to you.
And finding the right words
has never been a challenge for me,
but ********* if you aren't giving me a run for my money presently, insufferable me with bleeding
tongue resentfully.
I say that word with an intrepid disposition, because I do not resent the person, but the action: The act of unwarranted silence.
I'd like to think you have a limpid conscience of the beautiful woman you are, at peace with yourself, when at the present time you are consumed with future maybes and counting seconds. So maybe adding myself to your equation was selfish, and brought complications when thinking about anything linear, considering all of the variables.
There was only intention to
rhapsodize the zealot I met on a mutual wavelength, a double helix we all share that some of us forget about, yet here is the reversion, the Neanderthal, the ******* who grew a beard to expose himself, looking at this whole experience all wrong.
Instead, there is Royal Purple Prose to look as extravagant as you are stunning.
Now all that's left is cognitive dissonance to later become
addictive retribution.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 7:16 AM UTC
I love you to the moon and back, yet on earth, I hate you back and forth.
I am happy with a suppressed sense of agony. So ecstatically vibrant, yet miserably tormented.
I live day to day, walking and “maturing”, yet move no further than beyond the grave of a past, long dead and gone.
I’m awake, don’t you see?
When I wake, I open my eyes in a helpless sleep. Outside my tiny being, I see nothing but me.
I call myself a mother, or a father, but never gave birth to a daughter.
We call ourselves a “family”, but exist so disconnected — wavering and dislodged, apart and separated. Smiling resentfully, painfully, excruciatingly.
All for the cameras of course.
I am respectful — to be respected! I shower in lies, and cover you too, so I need not see any offensive residue.
I am a strong person, cowering and contracted to the slightest sight of error.
No vulnerability.
I’m brave, don’t you see? A plastic rock, standing impervious to the sea.
I love you, I love you, I love you. But I don’t see you, nor hear you, don’t know you.
I understand you, of course, “I understand everything!!!!” But I don’t see you, nor hear you, don’t know you.
I know you, I know you, I know you. Yet I don’t see you, nor hear you, don’t know you.
You’re crazy, poor child! Why can’t you lie like we do!?
Why can’t you NOT feel like we do!?
Why can’t you NOT see as we do!?
Why can’t you just “forgive” and “accept”? Take it all, all our objects in their entirety and forget the emptiness of your soul. Sacrifice yourself, for you need not forget, we gave it ALL.
Don’t you know yet? This world is OURS to own. A “truth” to be known.
Your perception; a mere fallacy to be shown.
Don’t you know yet?
Everyone agrees.
We stand before an army of validation, against your small speck of reality.
All memory, all harmony, all said and done -- buried beneath.
We are the bringers of truth, the proclaimers of wisdom and sound guidance. And you, our poor child, just a little voice to be silenced.
A lost soul, drifting outside the “right” path.
Reach for our direction.
You’ll travel upon a dusty, well-trodden track, and with feet now imprinted with scars. Rest assured though, for we travelled there too; feet too ***** to bear and too numb to care.
Take our confident hands, our dearest child. We’ll lead you through a clear path with tainted feet.
You’ll fall and we’ll rise in disbelief.
You’ll scream and it’ll only echo our fears.
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 8:40 PM UTC
On
Days
Like this
When the deep blue skies
Shed their clouds
And made love to the horizons
Shall
We lay
On bedrocks
And lash our feet
Into plunge pools
And
Watch
Vuluptuous waterfalls
Walk elegantly down rocky staircases
And
Make
Mockery
Of the blue pants
The waters wore
There
The thunders
Will leer through the skies
And try to catch a glimpse
Of our foul acts
And
Even become
A parodist of her cuddly winks
And
There again
Become a beggary
Of my artistry,when I wove her eyebrows
With flowers
Moments
Like this,the rainbows stun with brilliance
And the umbra and penumbra
Will glare resentfully
Then
She will
Treasure me
All her secrets,dreams and fears
On the ***** of my tongue
I
Remember clearly
Like the romance played
By the moons at mars
When she said"without you,its hard to survive"and blush
And
I had tell her
All the tales of love from Adam
Yet
How sad!
When time gulp
Beautiful memories in haste
Like a drunkard
I had died six times
Till she came and breath life
Into me one more time
Yet
Today,I wobbled solo
To these environs like a jittered cheetath
Truly,I had been cheater
O,
How I wish
I can wash her off me
Her touches,her tastes and her smells
But someway I'm cowed
I might drown,and lose all hopes
Of beholding her sight one more time
I
Have no peace
And all prayers
For solace suspend
Beneath impervious clouds
Now and then
Will I starve silly
At motile moons and stars
With a little hope of her sight one more time
I'm caged in her absence,yet I lay in no cage
Am wholly buried yet I lay in no pit
Cheats
©Historian E.Lexano
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 4:53 AM UTC
On
Days
Like this
When the deep blue skies
Shed their clouds
And made love to the horizons
Shall
We lay
On bedrocks
And lash our feet
Into plunge pools
And
Watch
Vuluptuous waterfalls
Walk elegantly down rocky staircases
And
Make
Mockery
Of the blue pants
The waters wore
There
The thunders
Will leer through the skies
And try to catch a glimpse
Of our foul acts
And
Even become
A parodist of her cuddly winks
And
There again
Become a beggary
Of my artistry,when I wove her eyebrows
With flowers
Moments
Like this,the rainbows stun with brilliance
And the umbra and penumbra
Will glare resentfully
Then
She will
Treasure me
All her secrets,dreams and fears
On the ***** of my tongue
I
Remember clearly
Like the romance played
By the moons at mars
When she said"without you,its hard to survive"and blush
And
I had tell her
All the tales of love from Adam
Yet
How sad!
When time gulp
Beautiful memories in haste
Like a drunkard
I had died six times
Till she came and breath life
Into me one more time
Yet
Today,I wobbled solo
To these environs like a jittered cheetath
Truly,I had cheated
O,
How I wish
I can wash her off me
Her touches,her tastes and her smells
But someway I'm cowed
I might drown,and lose all hopes
Of beholding her sight one more time
I
Have no peace
And all prayers
For solace suspend
Beneath impervious clouds
Now and then
Will I starve silly
At motile moons and stars
With a little hope of her sight one more time
I'm caged in her absence,yet I lay in no cage
Am wholly buried yet I lay in no pit
Cheats
©Historian E.Lexano
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
ladybum intimidates
wandering in the median
body bent,
hair coarsely pulled in crooked pony tail.
what happened to your face?
were you born that way?
with cupped hands, pleading-
stopping my car at the intersection,
driver’s side window-
my trying to be cold but guiltily relenting
people are watching and
what will they think?
your crazy eyes pierce me desperately
wild emotion and
something once described to me as crocodile tears-
Tensely clutching the steering wheel,
hastily scooping change and used fuses
to pour them into your hands
wishing you away-
some kinda spell of some halfhearted charity.
depart depart leave my pity intact
so that I don’t see myself
in the gaps of your missing teeth.
the guilt you spill
making my heart heavy
like a gull in petroleum.
I still see you from time to time
and resentfully I examine you,
ladybum-
bent body, missing chin and Baba Yaga legs.
thinking you some kind of witch,
avoiding you like
cracks in the sidewalk.
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 2:56 PM UTC
Yearning for you
Makes me angry with myself.
So **** angry
That I literally weep with rage and horror,
Sometimes several times a day.
You are such a
Such a
Such a
Why do I want you, even now?
And I mean want want WANT you,
Desperately, angrily, resentfully,
Want you like the world wants saving,
The rain wants rivers,
Want you like a fallen angel
Wishes he could be with God, again.
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
The girl
who loves too quickly
depends too stubbornly
waits too impatiently
follows too clumsily
falls too easily
The boy
who loves too affectionately
guards too protectively
listens too jealously
walks too zealously
talks too flirtatiously
Both hearts
that broke too bitterly
longed too strongly
left too resentfully
forgot too angrily
love still, unfortunately
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 9:22 AM UTC
It was a lonely night
and the moon was bored.
So he looked down
and saw two lovers
out for a night time stroll.
Ever the romantic, he grew ecstatic
because tonight he would make sure
they would fall in love a little more
by the time the night was over.
He bent his sickle-head and started to collect
his starry friends so he could rearrange them
in a more alluring manner.
In his haste to showcase his talent however,
he failed to notice the disappointed couple
turn their backs on the empty sky.
When he realized he had lost his audience,
the moon was left to contemplate in silence
the folly of the stargazers’ impatience.
If only they had waited,
he thought resentfully
as he scattered the stars
into the night absent-mindedly.
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 8:11 AM UTC
3/15/2015
everywhere I roll
on the bed there's a
glass bottle waiting
to be crushed under weight
and bleed shards peppered with
red chrysanthemum petal
excuse everything I do with
"I was manic back then"
everything was beginning to get
tragic back then truthfully
first baby december days
and here we are in March
we haven't spoken in three months
and we will not forever.
I know when you say
Never Again you mean it because you had said to me earlier I Love You with the same vehement strength and I knew you meant that.
When I think of it,
butter knives pry my ribs open
the pain of the cut still hurting me
such a long time afterward and
nowadays I spend my days sitting on steps smoking a pack, kissing men trying to replicate something. And what?
it seems I am so detached from love, now I am trying to replicate me leaving a dorm room looking around hoping no one noticed
and sitting on a bench writhing because
I have so much to say and not one soul really truly wants to hear it, besides from men who've seen me naked and read my poems and
I only find that thoughts of dying,
not suicide of course just dying
are the only accustomed ones that I enjoy
I ***** onto the sidewalk
(hopefully my weaknesses my desolation right? Like the black humor of plague times)
blink my eyes
(Patients of severe depression are said to have melancholy, heavy grazing eyes. See Ian Curtis)
check my phone
(last call I made out was 8 hours
ago. no call back)
move toward nassau street now,
the long term suffering victim
of too much love,
and I can understand
why people **** themselves after
ten year long relationships.
however I am not so vexed,
just resentfully doleful and I
decide I shall blame tonight's
little dorm room nightstand on
sweet hypomania.
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 12:41 PM UTC
Pupils that were once constricted are not prohibited from running backwards towards the beginning of the end, where it is possible to rediscover the pathway which leads in a forward direction.
Have you ever received new shoes and permitted your attention to be captivated by the end of a desirable carriage as she meanders her way into the distance of nostalgic regret and bypassed opportunity?
How resentfully blissful is the reality of fantasy as she unfolds her callous plots and recommendations in the face of embryonic visions of legitimacy.
Let us take heed to our every step, as the clock mechanically communicates her loud reminders of presumption.
Incense may or may not have burned in our walls with glowing prohibition, whilst sorcery lays bare her blatant fornications.
As we engage in this dichotomous game of chess, let us now discuss the outcome, my toxic companion of allegiance.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 10:53 PM UTC
If they leave
Silently
They leave
Without you in mind.
If they leave
Loudly
They leave
And continue to whine.
If they leave
Resentfully
They leave
Feeling outshined.
If you leave
Peacefully
You leave
Hurt behind.
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 11:14 AM UTC
“Why?” is always what the doctors ask.
Why I sip time away while my life tick tocks by
Why I puff puff pass till the night fades to sunflowers,
Igniting blades of grass as low as I,
Running from my own mind for hours upon hours.
Blame the broken nature of my heart?
I’m advised to
stop lovin’ him, her, them.
When I’m pretty sure I never started.
‘Cause of an absentee father with an ******* twist.
Decides to leave, but couldn’t leave it be.
He had to call sometimes
and fly us down for Christmas and ****
If you’re gonna disappear,
then you’d better leave.
Burn your fickle ties to all things ‘me’,
all things ‘we’,
and everything that will never come to pass:
The goodbye kiss as a yellow bus pulls in.
The footsteps counted as we sway to Smokey Robinson.
The paternalizing glare as he reaches for my hand.
The pair of footsteps beside a white laced train.
Stop confusing me.
Don’t be the reason for the bloodstains on my sleeve
Bleeding out any remnants of you and your scar
The recurring reminder that
I never learned what it was like to be
cared for correctly by a man.
See
I got so many ******* pillows in my bed at night
because I always wondered just what it might be like
to have a warm body next to me to hold.
But I flip that pillow over,
other side,
as always,
so undeniably cold.
But does the turbulence end?
Where does the line between disappointed and destroyed begin?
And the Reverend preaches.
But **** a sin.
This book of perfection will not
teach me about a life fully lived.
And we’re all living as children on the hot seat
while heaven’s questions are never answered.
The reasons
as fleeting and restless as a dancer.
Still, we are promised this cure
and force fed pieces of truth
as we’re expected to rest assured,
the trivial youth
And Father He preaches x,y,z
while 'x's mark the spot
where a why is never seen
until life’s eternal 'z’s
are resentfully
received.
Now look at what’s become of your kids.
I wonder if you will ever own up to what you did.
This tornado:
all you gave us to breathe
as you decided to
Quote, Unquote
Leave
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 2:06 AM UTC
I lack complete memories there exists but fragments
From incidents that took place sometime ago
Like ricochets left behind in the wake of a fired bullet
They contain no context nothing tangible to recall
But abstract retentions from the distant past such as my father’s voice
Or my mother’s smile intertwined with my brother s laugh
My company psychiatrist diagnosis is PTSD
I whole heartedly object and resentfully disagree
It was like this before the second Gulf even before Kandahar
Ever before the war broke my bleeding heart
The immortal last words of Andy to his best friend Red
Pretty much sums up my infatuation on lost time and absent reminiscences which I won’t evoke
As I choose not to because I rather not; hence I quote
‘’You know what the Mexicans says about the Pacific
They say it has no memory
That’s where I want to live the rest of my life
A warm place with no memory’’
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 2:31 PM UTC
As I run away
Thoughts overtaking me
I've signed off for good
Hating how much I need you
But you find me
With your busted finger
Resentfully childish
And everything that I've ever needed
Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 12:22 AM UTC
The loneliness comes without notice
Not even a courtesy call
I beckon it in resentfully
Ask it to brush the mud off at the door
No words exchange
No need
We've been through this before
I pull the sweater over my head
And scrunch the jeans to the floor
He runs the bath
I lay in the warm tub
My eyes fix on an empty ceiling
As it's hands push me under
Gently, smoothly
The water feels comforting at first
Until like a flood the heightened panic enflames
I try not to stir, it'll only make it worse
I lay in the moment, the seconds that feel like hours
I can't breathe, I stop thinking
It's only when I let go, does he
Removes me from his grip
Allowing me space to catch myself
He stands up and lingers
I lean against the cold tiles until I regain myself
Then he vanishes and I hear the door slam shut
His job is done, for now
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 1:24 AM UTC
Don’t give to her reluctantly
or resentfully
There are no warnings in her life;
no blinking lights
She knows any moment could be the last
Not for life; at least not her own;
no, it wouldn’t be right
Instead, it must be all around her;
to the things or people she loves
Life prefers cruelty to kindness;
to win an unjust fight
But she said, “I won’t give you up;
it’s not time yet”
It will always be her nature;
no matter the frost upon her heart,
the path remains steadfast in her sight
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 10:05 PM UTC
No time like the present, they all say.
Yet such a timeless, indisputable widsom slips our grasp
by the end of each day.
No time like the present, I have often heard you say,
when you'd require me, and much to my dismay.
What it is that you need of me, I wonder,
as the night swallows the sun, and ushers in the thunder.
No time like the present, I resentfully accept.
For there is no better time for you to haunt me,
than the almighty present which, to me,
is full of angst.
Don't you despise rhymes, past or future?
Acceptable, I guess, for they exist now,
as there is no time like the present.
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 2:56 PM UTC
Sometimes I wonder why I came to decide
To end my life with suicide
But this idea should be set aside
For life is worthwhile with the Lord as my guide
All my fears and my despair
I thought they were beyond compare
But when I turned to face defeat
My Lord was there to save and all was in peace
I always doubt why He picked me
Resentfully sinned and troubled with anxiety
But when I’m praying on my knees
His unconditional love is all I can see
My soul was broken, my heart has been bound
My mind was ripped and my hope is nowhere to be found
I lost my everything, this is the end
Wait, have you forgotten?
You still have the Lord,
your Father and your Friend
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 7:19 AM UTC