"restarting" poems
She's done it! She's free!
But now that "She" is a "He"!
I'm proud of Him. As should be!
For now he smiles in glee!
He's jolly again, grins from ear to ear!
I can't help but shed a tear.
I'll support you always my darling dear.
Even when the bullies sneer.
Bu my Hannah is now a Ryan.
Once a woman, now a man.
You're doing what I can't;
You're restarting your life and its just began.
I'm so proud of you.
But you already knew.
I'll support you through and through,
Even when life becomes anew.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 7:45 PM UTC
it has been over two years and i am proud of my growth. my main focus this year is to finish my grieving so that i may continue my life in an efficient manner.
the process of grieving is commonly known as, but not limited to:
denial
anger
bargaining
depression
acceptance
my denial proces:
many times the easiest way to get over trauma is to repress it. i was 15 when i was ra ped. legal age of consent is 16. he was 18. i was naive, and could not imagine the man i loved doing that to me. i believed that it was an accident and neither of us knew what was right or wrong. I had assumed that because i had previously given him my body, he was able to ignore my pleads to stop this time. i blamed myself more than i blamed him, and he blamed me. i had been so infatuated with him that i had pushed away the people who cared most about me. when i told them about being ***** our bond was already so far gone that they could not feel anything more than pitty. i was terrified of losing him, so i convinced us both it was an accident. ra pe is no accident.
through denial became anger:
i became genuinely angry for the first time in my life. i was angry at him for being somebody that i had trusted and loved. angry that i had let this happen to myself. angry that i had no strength nor respect to stand up for myself. if i had told him to stop one more time he would have. i understand now that i should not have had to say no more than once. i was angry because i let myself down, but I’m more angry that i could not blame him. being angry was the easiest part of grieving. it is okay to he angry.
bargaining is a toxic healing method:
i became really good at bargaining with myself. after he was gone i had begun to understand my emotions, but i could not control them. my fear of more being taken from me fed my overcompensation. i began to give my body away, so that it could not be taken. it was an unhealthy coping mechanism. my body is not meant to be given nor taken.
depression hit hard:
i began to reflect on all of the points in my life that had lead me to this one. i became close to restarting the grieving process. i spent a long portion of the depression stage in denial. then i was angry that i had backtracked to the beginning. i had more meaningless se x that i now regret more than anything. i saw how good his life had been going and how poorly mine was. it was obvious that i needed help.
acceptance:
this entire passage was my process to acceptance. i reached out to my therapist. i made new friends. i stopped wallowing in self pity and i began to recover. i stopped begging to forget my flaws and began to forgive them.
Jan 4, 2019
Jan 4, 2019 at 1:50 AM UTC
After Danez Smith's Dinosaurs in the Hood
Let's make a movie called Lil Peep In Heaven
Transpotting meets 8 Mile meets six xanax bars
There should be a scene where Lil Peep climbs up a few flights of Stairs and makes it to the pearly gates, because there has to be pearly Gates
Don't let Bella Thorne star in this.
In her version she tongue-kisses Peep,
Chews scenery in platform boots and bright pink
Ripped jeans. **** that, Peep has a tattoo removed
By a saint, his laser is proof of all that is good
I want a scene where Peep throws his pill bottles
At Ganesha, a scene where Allah tells Peep he'll
Rot in his grave forever if he doesn't stop
His antics. Don't let GothBoiClique hold a
Funeral for Gustav. I don't want any of that
Sentimental **** about love and how life is too
Short. This movie is about a man/boytoy/ugly and dying thing,
Restarting his life with all the real-ass gods and patron saints and
Deities
Of every religion and every afterlife
I don't want some funny, dreadhead living in LA with a tattooed stick And poke commanding presence. This is not a vehicle for someone to Play Peep, this is a vehicle for Peep to play himself.]
I want his ******* white or not, praying. I want them far from their Knees.
I want Lil Peep to ride in a Benz truck down from the clouds, Screaming with spittle flying from his mouth the entire time.
I want Layla to post another video of Gustav slapping pans together Like a child. And I want Peep to see it all.
But this can't be a death movie. This can't be a death movie. This Movie can't be dismissed because it's too dark, or that a dead man is Playing the leading role. This movie can't be about crying, or cause people to cry. This movie can't be about a long history of emo coming To an end. This movie can't be about dying.
No one can say Peep is a pill-popping ******* who deserved his death Who wouldn't say it to his cadaver. No big pharmacy jokes in this movie. No bar, capsules or gels in the heroes, and Lil Peep never dies & Lil Peep never dies & Lil Peep never dies. Besides, the only reason I want to make this movie is for the first scene anyway; Lil Peep climbing up the cloudy stairs, his eyes dilated & empty
the heaven before him filled with congratulations
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 10:47 PM UTC
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…open wide! The all-new Angus third-pounder…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…illiteracy: an incurable disease or education malpractice…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…childhood obesity is at an all-time high…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…suicide bomber, 10 people dead…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…teachers on strike again…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…Michael Jackson…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…another Amber Alert has been issued…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…number of Americans going hungry increases…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…ninety-six billion pounds of food go to waste each year…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…Nicole Kidman loves her new *****
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…another soldier was killed yesterday in a firefight…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“...you can do to protect against H1N1…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…live the rainbow, taste the rainbow…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…the King of Pop…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…confirmed: the remains belonged to 6 year old…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…boy refuses to pledge allegiance unless gays and lesbians have equal rights...”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…scientist reveals her secret life as a **********
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…police are waiting on a positive ID on the girl’s body...”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…Michael Jackson...”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…actor who played Santa Claus jailed for having *** with boys…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…Iran is restarting their nuclear facility…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…armed teen jumped the pizza delivery man…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…woman who has three hundred ******* a day finally meets her dream man…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…why we love Taylor Swift…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“fifteen year old son, shot by his father, has died tonight…”
BTZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ [click]
Jan 3, 2010
Jan 3, 2010 at 8:25 PM UTC
This is for all my battle buddies, HOOAH!
Serving in Iraq,
Serving in Afghanistan.
With a grainy, sandy, hot, and humid desert surrounding you.
Looking into miles of nothing.
Always ready, always on patrol, ready to roll.
Ducking your head to re-load in the middle of the firefight.
Taking a stand against the evils of the world.
To my battles with integrity,
We all bleed the same,
Fighting for freedom of the Red, White, and Blue
Live green die green
Scream it with me at the top of your lungs:
HOOAH!
Soldier people;
This for all the clowns that play Video Games
Talking that 1337 (LEET) speak
Owning some newbs for fun
Screaming at the little kids that they ****
I’m taking on the girls 1 versus 1
Passing by the hours staring at the screen
Drinking Mountain Dew, and eating skittles
Sniping people with your M4,
Blowing them up as they walk through the door
Gamer people;
This is for all my Tech-y nerds
Working with computer components
Make sure you stay grounded
We don’t want an electrical eruption
I hated Network Theory,
But I still didn’t get a B.
The “have you tried restarting,” people.
Surfing the Internets, refer to Wikipedia people.
Tech people;
This is for all the Snowboard bums,
We ride hard, but still chill
Jumping in front of the skiers for a mighty thrill
We do it for an Adrenaline rush
Boardin’ through the trees,
And the snow that is white and plush
Snowboard people;
This is for all the Music lovers
That let the beat move their souls
Bumpin’ to the rhythm
Dancing out of control
Let the beat take you away
Fist pump yourself into the night,
Even though I can’t dance, ‘cause I’m White.
Music people.
Sep 27, 2011
Sep 27, 2011 at 9:43 PM UTC
not especially social,
just a couple of friends,
so our interaction qualifies,
special, very,
with sincerity I say,
fancy seeing you here
come and gone,
come back again,
restarting an engine,
that been redesigned
to be as simple as
you and me,
reader, writer
quit, here, brevity here,
but say out loud that word,
fancy
one mo' time
part fantasy,
special, very,
a poem read,
a fan friendship established
here, where words and eyes
intersect, a very fancy place...
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 4:52 AM UTC
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Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 1:26 AM UTC
Am i foolish to believe happiness is something i've yet to obtain?
I feel like my heart is in a constant battle with my brain
everyday everythings so .. so plain
seemingly the same
kind of like a game you play over and over restarting it just before you reach the end
your to afraid to reach the end so you watch it begin again and again and again
the story never changes but feelings do
happiness if your waiting .. this is your cue
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
I remember the ivy
that grew in the side
of our first house
year by year, we
watched it shake off
its dead leaves and
tremble, naked through
the winter
in the Spring,
we'd take tea underneath
it, sharing the sugar spoon
like we shared sheets
and secrets
we watched it beat
again, like a heart
restarting, rising after
the fall
the wrought iron
chairs are rusted brown
now, and no-one sits
upon them
we're dead
but breathing,
blood pulsing on
and on
hearts beating backwards
and sugar spoons left
out for the
ants
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 4:19 AM UTC
to some
spring cleaning
may be about donating the shirt
you haven't worn since 7th grade
or dusting every single picture frame
or scrubbing the tile
or sweeping and vacuuming
that's not my spring cleaning
my spring cleaning
is about changing the way i've been
ever since the 7th grade
and changing every single thing about me
or creating the persona i want to be
or removing and restarting
that's my spring cleaning
n.d.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 10:36 AM UTC
Your touch fractures unwound futures,
the softest shock to my system. Infinite
undiscovery radiates off skin like new born
stars skipping straight to supernova. Light
grenades blind, deafen, expose. Truth blurs
focus. We now know what the body is for.
I sabotage and we crash into earth, incinerating
the atmosphere, restarting cycles. We forget our
odd numbered days exist. Our catastrophic collapse
was the best of my life. For a split second I am now
one as He is three, looping unopposed into life
and death like continuous screaming nothing.
For that, I wish I could thank you.
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 6:37 PM UTC
i'm going to tell you a pathetic truth
i'm getting over you,
and i feel guilty for it
i feel guilty for acknowledging the sprouting feelings
for another man
who is nothing like you
and it feels so nice, i feel like i should be ashamed of it
i can feel myself changing,
like the phases of the moon
hiding the side of my face i called my good side
because it was the cheek you kissed
when we began and ended
i always thought i was lucky, you know
if i even got to feel this way once
and you were my once
and i had decided it was enough
and we ended
i had decided it was enough
the mere thought of experiencing this again
restarting
reintroducing
refalling
however many times it takes to get it right
twists my heart up
because i wanted to get it right the first time
and with you
and i'm starting to care less
and that feels wrong
which might make no sense
because this is probably good and supposed to happen
but i don't think i can take having something so good again
and not being sure i get to keep it this time
because what if it doesn't work out
and even scarier,
what if it does
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 8:15 PM UTC
the factory workers of my prefrontal cortex
are on a raucous strike because,
the train chugging them to lunch breaks at my amygdala
has been broken down for days.
and the now strained relay of packets of faxes from this neuron
to the one all the way south on Abbey Lane,
is creating untold pressure for Wernicke -
so forgive me if i ask you to rephrase.
despite the absent hoarded salivating mouths,
the deli in my amygdala keeps on producing
thousands of ******* italian subs,
so now the place floods with grease-sweat from old meat
that would make a carnivore remit...
and it's seeping, leaking poison to Broca,
who is now refusing to explain herself
to the confused face projected on my retina's blurred screen.
the mitochondria housed in my somatasensory
are all comatose from last night's debauchery.
so everything is still,
numb to the touch
blank on the face
dead in the eyes -
unaware of the incessant twitching
that's rolling through my joints, muscles, skin, sore red thighs.
every nucleus of every cell
restarting again, again, again,
but rebooting isn't clearing the glitch in the system.
so just lie here with me,
broken machine to broken machine -
our hearts still glisten.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC
to some
spring cleaning
may be about donating the shirt
you haven't worn since 7th grade
or dusting every single picture frame
or scrubbing the tile
or sweeping and vacuuming
that's not my spring cleaning
my spring cleaning
is about changing the way i've been
ever since the 7th grade
and changing every single thing about me
or creating the persona i want to be
or removing and restarting
that's my spring cleaning
n.d.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 1:13 PM UTC
I have fancied myself to be a china doll
Alone on a shelf,
And waiting for some caring hand
To open my eyes and clean my dress -
But this at best is merely fancy
And at worst passes into pain.
I was not made to sit lonely
With my brain. Nor am I patient.
To stall with no hope of restarting
Is an unbearable weight, and waiting
With such vague notions of the someday-to-be
Is a foolish self-inflicted fate.
Oh patience, you unremarkable trait.
You have no care when even-handed Fate
Valiantly bestows opportunity.
You sit unmoving and insensate,
And merely wait and wait and wait
For Time's inexorable pendulum to swing
And the boredom of an afternoon to bring
Some visitor's hands, and perhaps some care.
(Though not too much, a doll's only a plaything.)
So no, I am no china doll rejecting -
Stupidly - the passing glances
Of strangers given to wild dances
And children given to clumsy hands,
No, I am no longer a fragile waiting dream
Hoping to visit some loving mind
And fulfill myself in a single eve,
Only to trickle the rest of my nights
As a empty-laughing lifeless little stream.
Enough of this!
I move, I leap, I sit no more.
What lay on the mantle lay now on the floor.
(And perchance the fall has cracked my face
Warding away some unforeseen gentle embrace
But) I shall find my own way into some arms,
Into some wild dance.
My partner will see these cracks and be
Far less afraid to drop me, throw me,
Lift me high and let me fall,
(So I may see the world around me
And - electrified at the sight -
Thank myself for wanting more)
Than a china doll
(Could ever have hoped for.)
Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 10:08 PM UTC
Booting Up with or with out you . . .
Retrieving my Life . . .
Relinquish Bad Sectors . . .
Formatting Hatred . . .
Partitioning Space and Time . . .
Installing New System . . .
Restarting System failures . . .
Loading my Pieces together. . .
Starting new Stupidity . . .
Waiting for another Connection . . .
Synchronize with another System. . .
Error Starting to Fail System . . .
SYSTEM INFECTED . . .
SYSTEM CORRUPTION . . .
. . .
THEN THE CYCLE REPEATS . . .
Until Found a SYSTEM Called...
L.O.V.E...
------------------------------------------
Norfhel V. Ramirez
February 21 2011 / 4:42PM
Jan 30, 2012
Jan 30, 2012 at 10:40 PM UTC
Tear, tear, tear.
Spend classes tearing paper into tiny bits.
Why do I do it?
(Tearing until my fingers hurt.)
Count, count, count.
Almost run into people every few minutes.
Why do I do it?
(Count my bones whenever I can.)
(Count the steps on the stairs when I ran.)
(Count the steps I take and how many breaths I draw.)
I am aware that everyone sees me,
counting and tearing and restarting,
and I don't want to stop even though it's not with a degree of panic.
Check, check, check.
Check so many things again and again,
but not the things that are really important.
(Check that everything's not changing or if it is.)
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 10:55 PM UTC
it is shocking that
you think it is not
shocking
muttering regrets
to me
saying you have none
to everyone else
you have a big tendency
of being the biggest
paradox i have ever encountered
i won't be waiting
for the day you realize
what you actually had said
i ask for all the strength
to push you away
when you barge in for more
payback is sometimes
the only language you speak
as well as apologies
and accusations
you look too close
don't breathe enough of it
in
before acting on it
you push on concrete
hoping somehow
you will have the strength
to shatter it
and when and if you do
you take all the cement
to fix it
only to break it again
back and forth
always a never ending game
(like ping pong)
except you always have
to be the winner
and when you are not
your language comes creeping
later on though
you will regret it
but this time i will not
care of your regrets
you're wishy washy
a hopeless romantic
(not the good kind)
little brain is racing
for all these things
to say
you want someone
mature
when you cant even
be that yourself
you are your own version
of Pandora's Box
locked away
sooner or later
someone will come along
and unlock you
just like how i did
now it is my turn
to regret
i am tired of restarting
but instead of
picking it back up again
never stopping
i will leave it
run away to the closest
state of mind where you
do not
reside
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 9:50 PM UTC
The infinite serpent
that devours his own tail,
as he reaches the end,
is back where he began;
restarting the journey
inside out
I don't know what's more shallow,
me or the graves that I've dug.
I can't tell what's more empty,
my heart or the ones that I've loved.
I don't feel what's on fire,
Is it my eyes or the bridges I've crossed?
I wonder what's more winding?
My thoughts or the path that I walk.
I can't decide what's more frightening,
the ghosts that I carry or the people I haunt.
I cant see what cuts deeper,
the dagger you've drawn or the things that we want.
The infinite serpent
that devours his own tail,
as he reaches the end,
is back where he began;
restarting the journey
outside in
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 5:10 AM UTC
It never ceases to amaze me how you can be both a blessing and a curse.
Catalyzing the flourish of a relationship then infecting it with a slow killing cancer.
I'm sure it amuses you, building someones endorphins before crushing them when you feel they've experienced enough to be addicted and beg you for more.
Constantly blitzing forward.
Incapable of taking a step back despite how much I plead.
Like some linear cellphone game; but instead of restarting when I can’t jump over, you phase through the obstacle, forcing me continue at your pace whilst tending to my wounds.
And once they’ve finally healed and I become capable of keeping up with you, you introduce a larger obstacle - and I’m ****** again.
Are you angry at how you can't move backwards? Is that why you're always ******* with me? Or are you able to, but savour the taste of my tears when I cry for you to do so? Or is it because you feel incarcerated by your immortality and have found that nothing else satisfies you?
You’ve made me realise that happiness is an illusion.
I shouldn't be such a pessimist at 17.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 4:40 PM UTC
A swiss army knife in an unwelcoming God toolbox is how I would describe myself
Versatile but cheap.
Not profound at anyone thing.
Illusionism of quantity that is mistaken for quality
Many books started but never finished
A vast resume both musical and medical
Many half played sheet music
Many diplomas full of emptiness
If started but never finished adventures could be considered hoarding I would be the sickest on earth.
The addiction of rebirth, restarting, and creation swallow me whole
Me the addict of wanting to live many lifetimes
I am the backspace bar of life
The blank sheet of paper on an empty desk resting beside a newly sharpened pencil
This, the description of the feeling I so desperately crave- absolutism
My shakey addict hands hunger for words like; blank, clean, fresh
These fuel my unhealthy obsession for second chances
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 10:22 PM UTC
I feel like i'm restarting my heart
Everytime I see a pair of eyes
That look just like yours,
That pear tree resting where your eyes should be
Makes me think that everything is going to be okay,
Okay,
Okay.
Things are not okay,
Whenever I see your green eyes
All I am paired with
Is that fact that I won't be your pear anymore
I see nothing but sadness
What could I done differently,
Differently,
Differently,
Hang on,
I see these blue eyes
That come at me like a tidal wave
Over all of these barbie dolls we call people
And maybe just maybe,
I feel like i'm restarting my heart everytime
I see a pair of eyes that look just like yours,
So blue and so pure,
Like the beaches we would beach on our sunday nights,
We have work the next day,
Yes but not now at 3am.
When i'm looking at nothing else but your blue eyes
Hoping that the moon will never fall,
Fall,
Fall.
Why did you watch me fall
From the tallest tower
You knew when to throw the hardest of punches
Harder than any tidal wave crashing against
There is a reason why storms are named after people
And this time that person is you.
Blowing up everything but these memories
On the beaches that have beached my mind.
My mind,
My mind,
Hang on,
I feel like i'm restarting my heart
Everytime I see a pair of eyes
That look just like yours.
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 1:41 AM UTC
A poet doesn't lie,
a poet omits
the suppressed thoughts and sensations
she will never forget
The painful memories she hopes to create,
The ill-tempered words
tied to strings of hate that
L o o p--
a reoccurring
pattern of
maladjusted
thinking
A sense of dread churns in your gut,
writhing behind your chest cavity,
invading your consciousness,
shutting it down
Perspiration begins,
and the rattling in your bones
Nausea sets in,
reeling your blood
It's happening again,
this you know,
but time will not tell
when this attack will go
Your throat constricts
while time afflicts
everything you've kept inside--
the emotions you've kept alive
when you should have set them free
captives of your debauchery
they've transformed into something ugly,
the wretch of scorn and self-pity
and have unleashed their vengeance
for smothering them with poisons
depriving them of breath,
and of their destiny
They're doing unto you,
what you did unto them,
killing you tediously,
disrupting your mind with
irrational fear
and depleting the dopamine
transmitted through your system
to plague you with indifference
towards reality
The symptoms it carries
manipulate your thought-process,
restarting the l o o p--
a reoccurring
pattern of
maladjusted
thinking
Apr 27, 2012
Apr 27, 2012 at 1:12 AM UTC
On your bed
you lay on your back
wrapped up in your favorite cover
Your lamp is on
bringing light to your room
Not too dark but not too bright
a book in hand
One you seem to enjoy
You carefully read over most of the words
sometimes going too fast and restarting the page
You may laugh at what they say
Or cry from the loss of a character
maybe even believe you're in the story yourself
With the peace and quiet of the world around you
It's easy to get lost in your book
Page after page
You get eager to know what happens next
not getting tried of the action, adventure, or romance
All of it keeping you on edge
You read until your eyes wake
and the sun begins to rise
not realizing how you lost time
But all is well
it was worth it
in the end
You finish the book
and the story ends
Now you seek out another
just for the adrenaline
of a new world
What will you read next...
Apr 15, 2021
Apr 15, 2021 at 8:08 AM UTC