"resurfacing" poems
Sexting Texting What a mess! Texting sexting Do you wanna have *** Flirting How about that ***** Taking naked pictures galore? How can I compete With all that meat That’s got you hooked On a fishing reel Pulling you in So you can spill All over them All the time While you’re here On my dime Resurfacing What’s going on On your phone Am I the only one you’re surfing? I think not! I doubt it a lot! No wonder I didn’t get it. Rehearsing I need a shot! For what I got, Is not enough! Working On this thing, Give me a swing, Stuck in a child. Nursing Or did you not **** the breast Big and full On your mama’s chest? Churching What happened to that spot? Not enough. You got a lot. Cursing Sexting texting Guess I’ll join the game. Texting sexting Maybe this will bring me fame. Or will I proclaim Your name?
Listen to the poetry podcast for more inspiration:
https://www.buzzsprout.com/12801/101854-sexting-and-texting-episode-of-relationship-rock-building-relationships-that-last
or listen to “Sexting and Texting” on iTunes:
https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/relationship-rock-shirah-chante/id670836453#
Watch "Sexting and Texting" on YouTube
https://www.youtube.com/edit?video_id=AQmw9N1rrKE&video;_referrer=watch
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 10:45 PM UTC
Looks I was given, words received
Sunk in deep
I felt as much use as a chocolate teapot
As resilient as a glass hammer
Looking much like a dogs dinner
As fragrant as a refuse truck.
Insightful as a blind guide dog
Buoyant as a lead balloon
I sank deep
My bounce lost,
like a concrete trampoline
Lost my grip
like a fumbling toothless vampire bat
Feeling as welcome
as a fur coat worn
In a vegan cafe.
Now resurfacing
I know that there's no use
in contriving to feel bad.
I'm going to either
line my chocolate teapot
to make it work
or savour every bite of it!
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 5:29 PM UTC
Prowling through the undergrowth
In our barging juggernaut,
Ploughing the rolling hills of water,
Which crease as the narrowboat sluggishly gliding past,
Brushes the bulrushes like a tiger in the reeds.
For four intrepid days
Our film and photographs are empty to show,
No sign, only missed whispers,
Of the hummingbird blue blur.
A darting flash cresting the morning chill,
Regal turquoise stealthily steals
Our attention, our focus, and our tiller
Noses toward the bank hugger.
And we have him.
Small amber-royal fisherman,
Eclipsing his heron heralds
And the swans silent vigil
In majestic lapis lazuli.
Swift and sure he graces the water,
Fisher King,
Which bends beneath his dive.
Resurfacing, his golden breast
Mottled with silver minnow.
There recluse in his exclusive spot,
Fish foundering still in the ******
The kingfisher's poise frames his catch
Aperture, shutter, captured shot.
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 1:26 AM UTC
Calf augmentation => silicon implantation
Endoscopy, otoplasty, baby
Mentoplasty, rhinoplasty, scalpel
Juvederm at 4, Starbucks pit-stop right after,
pop some xany's and go
Chemical peel, dermabrasion
Dr. Unknown PhD. meet patient Montag XR3.
Brain stimulation, kneecap replacement
Doc, I'm starting to miss the table, is this a complication I should expect?
Fat grafting, bone grafting, mystic tanning
(what really is natural nowadays?)
Chin reconstruction, laser resurfacing,
(what really is me anyways?)
Consultation with your post-op pain,
It's gonna be "Ouchy" for a month,
but worth it in the end.
Self-esteem scan shows a cancerous tumor and growth
Yuck
And here I thought plastic was
"cancer-free"?
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 11:43 PM UTC
Pulling
stretching
An oxidizing elasticity
all the while
a morphing
of shape and size
a marble of muted grays
resurfacing itself
and the pages it touches
with a softness that cannot
be touched
only destroyed
back into a density
to take away
the mistakes
better left
unseen
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
(AP) another tragic report today of snow mermaids resurfacing a phenomena of drastic blizzard conditions young men lost in blinding blowing winds that sends a person forging foreword then back a step are sightings of real or imagined snow nymphs naked gorgeous young women giggling frolicking through 8’ snow drifts arching limbs grinding hips twiddling fingers toes swaying long hair spreading thighs exposing privates pinching ******* pursing lips gesturing to be seduced beckoning into freezing snow entrapment eventually freezing victims into lifeless blue corpses only additional forensic evidence left behind are definite female snow angel signature tracks in surrounding snowfall areas since onslaught of February 1st storm strike 18 male bodies missing 13 bodies recovered all found grasping clutching clinging desirously to unknown source 5 men still missing if you suspect the whereabouts of any of these individuals please contact 911 authorities warn men of a certain age wear appropriate winter gear scarves raised hats lowered eyes squinting look away without delay if you think you are witness to one or more of these deadly snow mermaids GPS immediately to Police postscript in the several thousand years since these occurrences have been recorded not a single snow mermaid has ever been caught
Mar 3, 2011
Mar 3, 2011 at 1:22 PM UTC
I reignited the spark, reconnected to the hearth
reconnected to the heart in me
it was dark, cold, and scary
I was mocked, bold, and contrary
to my own beliefs, seeds I could never reap
due to the fact I was running miles
in an attempt to protect my inner child
from the incoming tsunami, the bottled up tears
the resurfacing adolescent fears brought me to prayers
but I reignited my spark, I embarked on a new start
where my path is filled with purple roses
a new beginning as the circle closes
its the circle of life, its the purpose of life
I reignited my spark, extinguished my strife
Feb 4, 2022
Feb 4, 2022 at 10:46 AM UTC
Curses to that boy.
For spoiling you; leaving a dent
For taking your energy
For leaving you spent
How dare he think he could keep you to himself?
For months on end
Until I didn't recognize the beautiful you
You were covered in a cloud of him
Curses for that boy
who cursed you
because why else did your eyes so blue turn a pale grey?
if you were not used?
Cursing myself because I befriended him
so I can see in his eyes the sadness he feels
and he's regretful
but he's not
because he doesn't want that path
the one of guilt so strong
where you're hanging on the edge of the crack
and the only rope is to right your wrong
but you both know
you wouldn't take him back
And there are real curses.
If not, then why did that lady who looks so lovely
have such a tragic story?
Cursed by time for the older mother, soon gone
Cursed by disease as her mother departed -
no match for her cancerous beast.
Cursed by fate.
As she made soup for a queasy sister.
Such a small hint, a short phone-call
And she arrived to greet the deceased.
And she was foredoomed to relent her peace.
Curses to anyone who has wronged!
I should think.
I hate how there are two sides
Because then I remember how I used to love it all
And I'm afraid
of that love resurfacing
And I'm afraid
that I am verging on witch-hood
And I was raised never to curse
Lest I become the devil at its worst
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
hope is like a drowning sailor
forever fading, always resurfacing
hope is at battle with unfortunate failure
a dying ember, a spark of song
failure is like a death so slow
suffering endlessly all day long
failure is growing, a merciless foe
a leaping wave on a helpless shore
foes are like a pain within
never fleeting, never quite gone
foes are abundant, and seek to win
they trample you endlessly and sneer in disgust
gone is my pain, that once lurked inside
always hiding, except until now
i have stricken my faults and they no longer hide
a speck of sand, forgotten on the beach
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 4:51 PM UTC
I have issues,
Lots of them,
I could fill a library with my issues,
My problems,
And self-loathing.
Whole buckets full of issues.
Like nails driven into my skin I can't quite get out,
I try to fix myself,
To find the things I lack and lost along the way,
But I find myself breaking even more,
Like a porcelain doll.
I feel like a liar,
Smiling like this in your face,
While I go bring pain upon myself by crushing the hopes and dreams I struggled to hang onto.
I've forgotten myself somewhere in the darkness,
And can't get out.
My sadness is only temporary,
It happens when I'm alone,
I put my mask on,
And take it off when I go home.
But my mask is fading fast,
Pealing away to reveal the things I lack,
As people get close to me,
I push them away,
The people I do keep close in mind,
I tell them all the time,
Of my issues,
And my hurting,
And they get bored of me and leave,
They don't want a basket-case,
A whiny little girl,
A problematic teen,
A pity party indeed,
When I do learn how to trust you,
I'll come to you with all my problems,
But soon enough you'll give up on me because you don't know how to solve them.
My issues are like chains,
And life is like water,
The more I struggle with these issues,
The faster I sink into the water,
Drowning.
Suffocating.
I don't want people to treat me different,
I don't them to try to fix me,
Because I'm a lost case.
I just want some friends to talk to,
Not to tell me what to do.
I don't you to try fix me,
Or cry over me,
Just go.
I don't want pity,
I don't want your pity,
I don't want anyone's pity,
I pity myself enough,
And hate myself too,
I've hurt myself worse than anyone ever could,
Worse than you.
I just want to keep my scars safely hidden away,
To push my issues so far beneath my skin,
You can no long see them,
And you and I both win,
I don't get pitied,
And you think you fixed me,
See?
isn't everyone happy.
But the problem is my mask it fades,
My issues are resurfacing,
And you can see everything that's wrong with me,
I try to pick the nails out of my skin, but more get jabbed in.
I'm too tired,
I can't sleep.
I'm too mad,
I can't eat.
I'm so happy.
...I feel sad.
So sad this happiness can't last forever,
But this sadness...
This sadness will last forever,
These wounds will never heal,
These scars will never quite fade,
I'll never learn to feel,
Happy,
Is word,
I never quite learned,
My dictionary is limited,
By me,
And my melancholy.
I can tell you words like,
Sadness,
And apathy.
I can tell you words like,
Ugliness,
And stupidity.
I can tell you words like,
Anger,
And rage.
But the word I'm most familiar with is
Melancholy,
Melancholy is me,
Issue are me,
I am made up of lies, melancholy and issues,
I have so many problems I don't know who I am!
Who am I?
This happy girl?
This sad one?
This mean girl?
This evil one?
This liar?
This quiet one?
Who is the real me?
Who are these people I try to be?
Which one do you see?
Which one do I portray to be?
Which one is the true me?
I have problems,
I have fears,
I have issues,
Like nails in my skin.
... Sometimes I don't think it's melancholy...
I think it's something worse,
Something that people know as the d word,
Something that you don't say,
Something that can get you on medication,
Something far more sinister than any old melancholy...
Do I dare say it?
What I think I have?
Yes...
I think have depression.
.... I have depression.
Sad.
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 4:51 PM UTC
What if I,
in artless youth,
had never heard that call to life?
Had never gazed upon that beacon
And found a world beyond my own?
I may have loved my ignorant prison,
cherished those gossamer walls of thought,
evaded that thirst for wretched freedom,
and left alone
those dank recesses,
content to slink away
existence upon existence.
Never would I have borne
the timid wings of aspiration---
a sudden quickening:
turning ambition,
turning desire,
turning identity.
Never would I
have kissed the sweet earth goodbye,
embraced the rush of wind and sky and soared
into the enthralling
the intoxicating
the cavernous--
Big Blue.
Ambition unbound!
How did it feel
to free the fatal sun-seared wax and flesh,
and witness plumed Promise plunge
down.
down.
down.
into the gaping sea
perhaps resurfacing on some unknown shore?
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 5:24 AM UTC
do you remember when we talked
about the capacity of our hearts
how it can be bigger
than our own bodies
capable of swallowing
entire galaxies
like a sun
exploding, burning
devouring everything
in its wake
when we wondered, desperately
where to keep all this love
inside of us
threatening to spill
everywhere
anywhere it could go
if it had a place to stay
and welcome it home
when we recounted histories
of loves lost and found
of foolishness and folly
of hearts breaking
with the magnitude of earthquakes
shattering into the debris
of our memories
only resurfacing if
they are dug up
with tender hands
when revelations were spoken
recognizing all the mistakes
naming all of the hurt
one by one
and saying,
"i've known you"
and it is beautiful
all of it, the whole of it
some sort of sobriety
after what feels like a lifetime
under the drunken influence
of our hearts
in another universe
there would be versions
of ourselves
who have chosen
to be content.
but here,
here
our hearts are bigger
than our bodies
and they can break
with the magnitude of earthquakes
and in our stubbornness
we will choose to hurt,
to ache, to yearn
and yet
we will always dive heart-first.
Oct 5, 2021
Oct 5, 2021 at 8:51 AM UTC
It was a simple thing
throwing out the trash
cleaning out reminders
the embers, and the ash
When it fell into my hand
memories, long now forgot
resurfacing again, to pain
the ring, that I had bought
Take care when remembering
don't linger, on the chaff
the tinniest, and little things
will kick you, in the ***
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 1:35 PM UTC
i feel like a soul
trapped in a body
that is trapped in a mundane, sad life
and i need a weapon
to break this body open
so that my soul come spilling out and i can be free
oh what should my weapon be?
so many choices
so little time
before the time bomb in my mind explodes
leaving me a mess of thoughts and emotions
resurfacing repressed memories
makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop
the demons have been let out of their cage again
and they're here to play
tugging on my heartstrings
constricting my throat
crawling under my skin begging me to join them
it's so easy, you can do it i know you can just hold on tightly, pull the trigger, that's right, you're doing so well
we'll see you on the other side
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 9:16 AM UTC
High above the teetering mast
A shout long awaited is heard at last
"Land ** Land ** Straight ahead"
Across the sea, the mariners sped
The mass of land, close in range
Ominously, the winds have changed
The ship drops anchor a hundred yards out
Rowing in without a doubt
Making landfall, the ****** cheered
A great appraisal to Brown Beard
Gallivanting, their songs sung loud
Roused, the sea soughed
Ripping from the strenuous tides
The monster emerges, the sea divides
Crashing down upon the ship
Fearful men tighten their grip
Threshing about as the beast descends
Into the depths where the mirk never ends
Duped, the mariners take their last breath
Inhaling, the seas grant them their death
Bloated corpses resurfacing
The dubious island repositioning
Full, the gulls await
For the next to take the bate
May 10, 2010
May 10, 2010 at 8:44 AM UTC
I don't trust you like a shirt, but I want to be down with you in Hollywood
baby the streets got that effect on me like a wanderlust
I'm still floating about free game working late, I don't want
you to tell me I'm good I want you to tell me I'm great
I want to be all your falling moonlight fantasies late night
catch fire my golden skin emerging from the shower in my calvin kleins
make me feel Portuguese, a misty memory resurfacing to my mind
collecting sparks in my eyes with bright wonder
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 11:37 PM UTC
I had this tremendous fear.
The mist soon all around;
The water around capsizes.
Substance attends, a funeral of sorts.
I've never ventured this far.
Soon they return, looking back.
Fleeing wildish scream.
My former thought bold.
Such my hope.
Resurfacing the ill fated.
The thought of sinking.
Forced to roam in darkness.
Where would I place my feet.
Perplexed, nothing was the same.
Cold, unable to find comfort.
I drifted, longing to chance the size of waves.
Distant waters courteous in expectation.
I too braced for it.
Becoming motionless.
Awaiting descent.
Not all ships sink.
The voyage extended from strangers eyes.
When the wind stops and the sail settles.
Some peculiar gaze, heavily weighed in length.
The ship sinks.
But this I feel far too late.
I am at the bottom.
The bottom of her heart
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 11:46 PM UTC
once you claim to not have not experienced
all the fooling with women in youth
and exhausted the libido...
you never really want to claim a need
for their company while ageing and
growing jealous when her stories emerge
over drunken conversations when her
friends get invited -
i mean, it's almost like you have a *****
stitched to your forehead that
is a reminiscence of youth not claimed -
indeed old age is hell for women...
and youth the hell for men -
in between there are children...
feminism is an odd-ball... it's this rebellion
against an ageing patriarchy...
men who sway power...
what a weird and wired fetish of thinking...
why would i claim companionship with a woman
if she experienced all the sensual freedoms
in her youth... while all i got is a freedom
of a range of professions? exertion of one muscle
here, exertion of another muscle there...
had i stuck to full-time industrial roofing i'd
probably write one poem a week...
oh please, let's not obstruct with too much consciousness
of how poetry is defined, that's for english teachers
to rekindle hopes of a Shakespeare resurfacing
while ignoring Milton in the curriculum ante-vitae...
no, when youth is not allowed mutual pleasures...
the following concerns for life suddenly disappear...
there's no acidity relevant to it, no abhorrence,
no need to testify a revenge...
it's all a matter of comfort... and it's more comfortable
to be without a woman than with one,
considering the pelvic-pivot-of-sex was not strained
well enough to settle down into a friendship
with women... since my own sensuality was barely
scraped to consider a friendship...
instilled in me, the idea of two potential flints
scratched for a spark... but nonetheless remaining
two rounded marble spheres
that dimmed the lights... i felt it too opposing
to consider a half measured sensuality forced into
a platonic love... i might as well have been born a homosexual.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 6:39 PM UTC
Your nobody to judge me I regret empowering your ignorance. Ive done more then you could imagine. It might not show but your not worth my time. Ive always helped others while you judge them
Im tired of all my down falls and setback I just want to be free of all the burden. Id love but im usually the other guy. Im not a player but know the game. I work for mine tired of thing being taken away of abandoning me.
Ive been on my own since 17 not trying to please anyone I follow rules no one is the exception to me everyone is equal I dont car who you are ir who you know if you have no respect you mean nothing to me
Im not mad just mad everything keeps me out I have to bust my *** work twice as hard to be accepted. My efforts get knock thats what ****** me off or when im finally made it someone else rains on my parade.
I want to argue and yell but my mouth gets me in trouble and the other person is blessed while my efforts go to **** and hit rockbottom
I feel these blocked out emotions resurfacing even though those moments have past. I over think it gets to me or makes me want to make a dramatic change
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC
This poem can be read as 3 poems. It can be read as the Youth, the Land, or as both together. I hope it works out I'm uncertain if its intention can be derived, so please give me feedback.
The Youth The Land
I, Eleven
I, ageless
A monument atop and open hill
The tide sweeps at my shores
The sky swirls dark and misted
The clouds gather over me
Legs wet from the ocean
Eyes open to all that takes place
Heart hammering from the run
Ears listen to the sounds of millennium
The sky opens up
A blurring multitude of drops
Again and Again torrents hit me
We run
I stay put
Lightning flashes
My edges crumble
Thunder roars
My mountains wear
We laugh
I breathe
The hill is slick before us
My back becomes wet
The ocean, the sea surround us
My wild places tamed
We sing
I listen
The road fills with water
My faces covered in emotions
The cars honk their horns
My places lived in
We jump
I catch
The plunge down into dark waters
My many inside me, sheltered
The resurfacing into the maelstrom
My love an outward reflection of theirs
We swim
I sink
The tide pulls hard
My body succumbs to the ocean, to man
The storm slows its pace
My love still grows stronger
We climb
I support
The clouds clear away
The pavement steams, drying
My skies change; my many grow
We live
I live.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
The CROWD, the SWARM.
The
FILTHY HOT MESS
that surrounded her.
Jumping. Sweating. Singing and Swinging.
Hands up in the air, bodies surfing over the heads of the exhilarated fans.
This was life and she knew it.
The bass loud, drums pulsing,
it was
PERFECT CHAOS.
The vocals
Infiltrated, infected and took over like a delicious, malicious poison.
She was
elbowed.smacked.
&
PUSHED BACK AND FORTH…
and the contact
STUNG
BURNED
and
BRUISED
.
Closer and closer to the stage she became fluid.
Absorbing the energy around her
Vibrations spreading over their heads, under their feet and
PENETRATING
their bodies
Most importantly
their minds.
The fans were completely submerged in sound and tears ran from her eyes just like the others around her.
Everyone caught in a state of trance, one with the music; she had never felt so whole in her life.
Everyone felt connected, more alive than ever.
Sharing the experience.
She sank into the moment over and over again, resurfacing just to relive the sensation of diving back in.
The high was addicting.
The high of life and music.
Of sound and energy.
Sep 8, 2012
Sep 8, 2012 at 9:47 PM UTC
Old habits becoming the present
Past thoughts rushing back
Forgotten struggles now resurfacing
You thought you were a new person
But you're not
You didn't change
That part of you was just hiding
You said that you would never
Lower yourself to doing that again
You said that you learned your lesson
But here you are
Laying in a different bed
With a different guy
Practicing the same old habits
Hating yourself
Adding more scars to those existing
But paint that smile back on your face
So family
So friends
So strangers
Can't see the pain
Your suffering
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
black-eyed child of the morning
sings blue-eyed hymns in the afternoon,
chokes on black water at night
pouring from the ceiling
depression waterboarding her small cheeks.
black-eyed child of the morning
paints red smiles on her thighs
running down her knees
heaven on her mind
looking for the tormentor in the ceiling.
blue-eyed child in the afternoon
lets sunshine soak up her irises
turning the light rose-colored
laughs drunkenly just under the
feedback
lies in bed and finds worlds in her mind
stroking their edges
closing her eyes
black-armed child of the night
resurfacing at last
shaking on the mattress
talking
screaming
to her thoughts
telling them to stop
trembling under the black water ceiling
crying because she's suffocating
begging because there is no choice
black-eyed child,
blue-eyed sometimes...
beggars can't be choosers
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 10:05 PM UTC
Jay-Z sounds like he's underwater. And the showerhoses tilt shut and the bathroom door opens to reveal - well, what I thought was a sealing wound thankfully turned out to be headphone covers and my brother's obscured big toe. Trembling.
He walks as if he was the rapper himself - chest hunched, back lurching forward like that of a street cat who doesn't know he's made it. Shaky feet, wet hair, darkened eyes that hadn't been shut for days.
''For my father was black, and beautiful, and beautiful, therefore, black. There was a blackness to him that was beautiful. A blackness entirely clear and his own.'' -James Baldwin, Notes on a Native Son (paraphrased).
His legs if you roll up the pajama bottoms are filled with quilt patched mosquito bites and blacks and blues. Self-inflicted. Eyebag patches punched back into his face resurfacing in the hidden contours of his thigh. Trembling. Allow me to reintroduce myself. Trembling.
He is and he isn't. No native son of ours black but yellow covered, yellow but eyes tinged with red, and awash in shadows black and blue - he is beautiful - puffy eyed, brickfaced boombox carrying screamer of profanity and tongue tied silence all and still - he is black, and he is beautiful.
An underwater mixtape taking shape to be a broken record anthem.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
Farmers working in the springtime paddies,
Under the hot summer sun.
Flowers and trees surrounding the ***** streets of the village,
A seed of life in despair.
A girl lost within the heart of the town,
Looking for what is lost.
A long-forgotten story buried deep into the past,
Resurfacing from the power of one girl.
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 9:55 PM UTC