"reusing" poems
I notice the symmetry in your face
You look in every direction but mine
We rush and crash through the night
Across traintracks, through tunnels
I admire the strong structures
Glowing beneath these festive lights
You are hiding insecurities behind
A temporary mask of excitement
Could-have-been tragedies
Become appreciative victories
We are mere trembling bodies
Amongst a crowd of confidence
Relief pours over us, flowing fast
Reducing our uncertainties
Reusing forgotten identities
Recycling mistreated potential
Relaxing, finally in tact...
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
~For Eleanor~
<•>
don't
believe in fate or luck,
never won no lottery,
even the next word of
every poem word, product of hard earned
stolen lust affairs
me desiring,
of acquiring
the infamy
of saying it & making you believe it,
all new (ha!)
while reusing worn-out words,
stolen from unknown predecessors,
lovers and prophets
but then, read you,
a-believing now that only princesses
may have the magic powers to do,
to sense, the incongruence,
of the most ordinary lives,
the ways we-hide-in-our-underbellies,
the faces of our elven selves,
that we are desperate to see anew,
without the blemishing scars of experience
writing it morning fresh from dream filled sleep
so my sinner summer sun dying requests
you to be reminded:
even a prince, only has just so many
golden opportunities,
so quit stalling,
shoot out your next from your
handgun mind
yup, no luck, good fate, for me
held in abeyance for
the next first date, maybe
as I write
Katy Perry
is ear-worming in my head,
ignite the light!
do you see us
awaiting in the shadows
for the definition of your words?
<•>
^divergent communication:
pattern in which the sender gives conflicting messages on verbal and nonverbal levels and the listener does not know which message to accept.
read https://hellopoetry.com/eleanor-prince/
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 11:53 AM UTC
***The third stanza can be read in several ways. It depends on how you read it (as two collums, one full stanza, etc.) Hope you enjoy :)
The headlines would never see Truth.
She is too truthful.
Their lies would never believe her.
She would scream
"Beautiful land taken away."
They would shout
"New zoos opening!"
O' humans,
You have stolen me!
I am your beautiful prisoner.
This dark place will never be a home.
My people will dwindle down.
They will become the ice caps on this warming planet.
People will disbelieve all they want until they see the impact
"Too little, too late."
Down to the bone my loves will gnaw on what they can.
Mother Earth Is the World
Food Supplies Gone
Water Supplies Down
And Father Sun Forever heating up
Can everything truly be done
Because people wanted to have fun?
Humans are you so shallow
That you let vanity corrupt untamed lands?
I used to be Africa a land of beauty.
Where even the blind man could see me.
I used to be Africa a land of love.
Then you took my people and made them slaves.
I used to be Africa a land of resources.
Then you took what you could
And stole the rest.
My sticky molasses was not strong enough to hold me together.
Instead I stuck to more places than could be counted.
The number grew until there was no more to hold.
Coming together became a chore.
I lost little pieces here and there.
They started to grow like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle slowly becoming connected together.
Slithering snakes snaked their way up smothering my breath.
Snakes with innocence for faces and trust for eyes.
Soon my land was used.
Minerals and gems taken.
Goodbye darling tanzanite.
Food and animals taken.
Goodbye Quagga.
Impact has come and people now try.
They start to help Mother Earth.
Reducing, reusing and recycling.
They're efforts die as they see they cannot bear the tide.
They live with a history rooted in fame.
Now it seems their lives cannot be filled more with shame.
They stay under waiting for their blunder
to take its toll.
They have no misery in what they see.
They do not care about my history.
I start my flame
and light the embers.
I no longer an smothered
The humans are.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 6:25 PM UTC
Danimal Dan was Green, reusing every hand-me-down
the dumpster offered.
stipend half our middle class allowance, so the Danimal
could get his fix in unison with ours.
slab dual twenties in his oily callous hands.
while sluggin N’ sloshin’ his cheap wine,
the Danimal returns heroic, with red lips
and pink teeth, handing us “licka” boasting new
apocalyptic theories
the sky is full of creatures,
deys plottin’ yessir, pilots
known for years, but Big
Washington Wiggies, keep
Uhmmmm zipped, yessir
hired dem creatures, “population
control” to **** eat America
leaving only the Finest.
the Danimal’s vision flashes, giant winged
Salamanders kamakazie dive from the sky.
fat white collar Cons offer bribes as they ****
fantastic fear all over their linen pants.
some auction children as the Danimal
arrives with an army of America’s finest
staggering out of
back alley bars & soup
kitchens
they shake Salamander hands
Slurring welcome
with Bourbon breaths
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
We are dancers in the dark moving to the rhythm of the silence.
I can feel your breath beginning to violate my innocent skin as our lips become one and fingers pluck at garments like musical strings to the soul, exposing me to the grasp of intimacy.
The motions become more natural as you begin reciting poetry against me, devouring every word my body gives to you and reusing it in the next line.
Reiterating your extensive vocabulary never felt so wonderful to a woman.
My soul reaches out to ask for you by name, and hips collide in a catastrophic heat of the moment.
Sweat droplets swell on our frames as we sway to a consistent pulse,
Never straying out of line.
My body swells with ecstacy as I memorize our routine to the core of its confidentiality.
Our finale pursues us almost instantaneously as we become unsuspecting victims to the nature of devotion.
You had me at hello.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
I feel my brain turning to porridge.
That thick,sticky concoction of experience:
Too many late nights, whiskey mornings, and "just one small line" excuses.
Always feeding my destruction with that juggling act of addiction.
Reducing my pain to a single act,
Reusing myself and others around me,
Recycling what little hope I have left.
My insides would be a sorry sight to see, so far from the person people know me as.
They don't feel the weight of my brain, the cement blocks of my thoughts.
I wish I could pop the hood, clean between the folds, and blow away the dust.
I identify with the abandoned and derelict buildings of the city,
Broken and abused, but still foreboding with their skeletons from another time.
I admire them for their character, their strength to still have their beauty long after their makers have forgotten it.
For what are we except the architecture of existence?
Each one of us a landmark:
To family, a lover, a friend.
We are shadows in their skyline...
Until one day,
We fall.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 3:37 PM UTC
There once was a girl named Suzzie.
I guess you could say Suzzie
was missing some vital screws in her younger years.
All day and all night, Suzzie would amuse to enthuse,
until the point of misuse.
Before finding herself reusing.
Relapsing into that old familiar abuse.
You could say, Suzzie wasn't content in her life.
Hell-bent on the decent into torment.
*** violence... drugs...*
And to what extent...
Consenting to the need?
Proceeding to only concede?
The black bead...
The devilish ****
A seed to heed warning too.
All day and all night, Suzzie would churn.
Yearning for her upturn,
for the point of no return.
Instead Suzzie turned her life around.
A full 360.
She learned, to earn.
Spurred by her yearning and churning,
of a childhood induced coma.
Kindness; rightness...
The mere brightness all from Suzzie's mindset.
A guidance from the righteous highness.
She's won her inner crisis at last!
"Bye, bye Black Tar, Suzzie!"
"Hello, the newer better you!"
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
34/3 Pleasure [III] (II ,,,,,,,,)
Learn more; Therefore, MD-ICC
and Spanish, Click on 200 MIV C,
Time, Compatibility. MDCLXXXIII
Circuli CD, et Atater Ksi (III) c |||
XXXIV friend! (Third ABC)
12163168 XVI MMMCCC III (C),
which also; He succeeded
with his Warm eyes; Greece, Italy
(Shiba) X, A 2008 (60) 12, C, which are involved:
University of North Carolina, and was the most
famous jumper. This island is in the village. Other
obligations of re-use. The University of California
is located in North America, the most popular
one in a small island village, but only a few spores
are on the level. Prestonian Colorado, maintaining
a five-year commitment to the University
of North Carolina. On the island of Lazarus,
which is on the road. I am the oldest ruler,
and in the future I will use my obligations.
The American University in the North
is the largest city of Colorado and is famous
for its famous island. And then, when I salmon
and I believe that the concept of quality,
that Paro Einstein on the nature of the man are still high.
University of Colorado,
North Carolina and the most popular nooks.
This island is in the village.
And the commitments will be the first to come
to the next post I use. Very popular for training
and sports games in North America.
Place the top of the small island.
Five losses and commitments end time.
The most famous organization of North Carolina
and Colorado University.
Place the top of the small island.
As he promised again.
Ut and Musiciens University North Maxime
by car EST Colorado vulgaris former oppida,
insulate, Gaudium 34/3 [III] (II ,,,,,,,,,,,
Learn more; Therefore, MD-ICC and Spanish,
Click on 200 MIV C , Time, Compatibility.
MDCLXXXIII Circuli CD, et Atater Ksi (III) c
XXXIV friend! (Third ABC) 12163168
XVI MMMCCC III (C), which also
He succeeded (Warm eyes)
Greece, Italy (Shiba) X,
2011 (60) 12, C, the highest in the world.
Colorado, the University of North Carolina will become the most popular dancer. Located in the highest island of the village. She re-uses the drops that he promised to manage. Colorado University's most popular dance will be from North America. It is located in the highest island of the village. In Colorado she will be the most beloved dancer, University of North Carolina, for a five-year commitment to recycle. Liza located in the highest island of the village. Her salmon promised to reuse the five rules. The North American University, the world's largest city in Colorado, the island's village and more popular, will come to dance. His salmon reusing the terms the blonde promised in the spring; always high with sapphire, Einstein and Kale. Colorado University, North Carolina, will become the most popular dancer. Located in the highest island of the village. She has promised to reuse the drops. The Colorado University's most popular dance will come to North America. It is located in the highest island of the village. She grabs the five deadlines he promised to recycle. North Carolina University will be the most popular Colorado dancers. It is located in the highest island of the village. She promised to recycle herself. North American University goes to dance, the most popular in Colorado, the island's village, which is the highest in the world. She has a blonde promise to recycle the discipline of drops, only with a head high with sapphire Einstein's Kale always comes up in the spring. The University of Colorado, North Carolina, will become the most popular dancer. Located in the highest island of the village. She has promised to reuse the drops. The Colorado University's most popular dance will come to North America. It is located in the highest island of the village. She grabs the five deadlines he promised to recycle. The North Carolina University will be the most popular Colorado dancer. It is located in the highest island of the village. She promised to recycle her. North American | University goes to dance, the most popular in Colorado, the island's village, which is the highest in the world. She has a blonde promise to recycle the discipline of droplets, only at high a altitude with sapphire Einstein's neck always in the spring. ||
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 6:52 AM UTC
I hate speaking of my razors
and my scars
but it would be nice if someone would
distract me from the thoughts
of reusing them
and making new permanent lines
that will stay with me forever
I cannot think of anything else lately
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 12:07 AM UTC
Reusing old graves
Some of your own blood
Nectar of your soul
To build this nest
This stinging canister
An assembly line of skeletal remains and burning wings
Pushing little armies on the left
Pulling little armies on the right
To march themselves out of existence
Life is a pesticide
Kills the flowers
Kills the connections
Keeps you working overtime
Just to hold on to a place where you can shuffle off this mortal coil
Mar 30, 2020
Mar 30, 2020 at 9:53 AM UTC
I am slave
I am addiction
Airy
open my pages
Find a clear lack of clarity, apparently.
find the words of obscurity,
that kept ME,
feeling absurd / lacking purity.
Words that helped me hold you down
Hold me down
Consuming and reusing and expelling in a town
Where we have no choice but to be ourselves
Ourself as seemed reflected on a screen
Our|a|self we might through dedication gain applause for
But not ourself, the one our eye’s never see.
Even our own eyes.
A self i/u/we buried.
To seem I was special and lacked- |non|?-absurdity.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 6:36 PM UTC
Beneath "the Blue Room" of Picasso
lies a mystery long concealed;
It is the portrait of a man
which only infrared revealed.
Reusing canvas is a trait
that struggling artists understand.
Concealing one work with another
masking the efforts of weaker hands.
We too are canvas of a sort
drawn in the culture of our birth.
Then, painted over by other masters
of uncertain provenance and worth.
Beneath the layer of the cynic
lies the young child's trusting eyes.
The image we are shown, world weary,
concealing where true beauty lies.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
There’s no substitute for life.
I find myself,
seduced by yearnings.
I’m flourishing here,
contemplating sin.
I’ve nothing to do
when I’ve nothing but time.
I’m reusing solitudes -
they’ve become ragged.
What’s the answer then?
Should I seal my girly heart,
engage in uncaring kisses
like it’s ‘casual friday’ -
connive brief excitements
- just to feel a pulse?
Mar 4, 2024
Mar 4, 2024 at 9:42 AM UTC
People who are more active
are less likely to think about cancer.
Choosing confusing reusing
is the answer.
Spanking your child
is unproductive and cruel.
We may have been wrong there,
But hey! William Singer can get the kid
into a better school.
Pools and ponds are okay,
but avoid lakes.
3 out of 5 doctors
prefer headaches.
Do you have a problem (?)
Take this pill.
But not for too long
'cause it can ****
Don't eat eggs,
don't use butter.
You can eat eggs now,
but not with butter.
It's okay again to use butter,
just skip anything from Laura Scudder.
Girls with long legs and short tempers
make better lovers.
Boys always marry girls
who remind them of their mothers.
Do these 40 things
to be a better father.
That's so last year!
Why even bother?
Women who wear wicker
marry quicker.
Men who love their lawn mower
do it slower.
People who breathe through their mouth
as less likely to pick their nose.
Or so it goes.
50% of those polled
said "yes."
The other half shrugged
and wouldn't wager a guess.
We know it's a lot to process,
so just stick with us
and we'll guide you through...
more or less...?
Dec 14, 2019
Dec 14, 2019 at 6:58 PM UTC
Oh how it is so late,
But I have used so many plates.
My grandmother was it’s reason it landed in my hands,
Otherwise it may have gone to the lands!
I enjoy reusing,
It is so sentimental and soothing!
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 8:03 AM UTC
All people are selfish.
Not all people have empathy.
A waltz or ballet dances in my head.
Am I doomed to hear them on repeat until the day I’m dead?
Why can I never write?
Tripping over my words like rope left out at sea.
Now look at that, I've lost all hope of writing an analogy.
Then a rhyme, a spark of joy.
Maybe this could be a song worthy of others to see.
There’s never quiet,
always sound,
never focused,
it's just too loud.
Words used to be my escape but now I can't even write.
I design fantasy worlds where I can fight my inner demons,
the ones that crawl around at night,
as foxtrots in the background are played in delight.
So I'm sitting in a back room, cringing at the slightest sound.
Reusing old lines from old poems and songs.
Things I can't finish,
things I can't start,
and things that hurt my broken heart.
Thoughts that seem stupid but won’t go away,
moments in the moonlight that aren't here to stay.
I'm so tired and yet I've gotten enough sleep
I guess I'm just tired of promises to keep.
There's so much to do
Much I wish that I did
Someone needs to remind me
I'm still just a kid.
Can I have another childhood, can I take it all back?
Would I take back the painful years of torment, of lying and shame?
Would I take back the tears that I have cried?
No. I’d never take back those tears, for they are my story.
There.
Have I done it?
Have I written enough?
I'm tired, so tired, I can't see it through.
Distractions, distractions, they hold me inside.
Inside the dark corners that make up my mind.
So many things dwell inside of my head.
It’s hurting, It’s hurting, make it stop, the little boy said.
Take another step, I know that you can.
Nov 10, 2020
Nov 10, 2020 at 2:58 PM UTC
My poetry will change with my life.
If you're reading, journey with me & find comfort in knowing I'll never tell you the same thing twice.
A hopeless romantic but my script doesn't chase as much, I'm the catch now.
No more vivid depictions of depression envisioning happiness, I'm that now.
I'll try my best to stay grounded & genuine nobody wants to read about material and figures.
I only talk about it to show how far I've come from sleeping with my pillows hiding triggers.
I know y'all wanna hear about love but my eyes yellow like something wrong with my liver.
Scars so deep sometimes I'm afraid to admit that I miss her.
I'll keep y'all posted as I'm reducing sins.
Not asking the Lord for more, reusing wins.
Congratulations coming from enemies, confusing friends.
Had my heart stapled away, now I'm losing pins.
They lift me up & keep me grounded look at the range in my friends.
& I know my life just changed but she might change it again.
Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 11:45 PM UTC
I'm full
Devouring eons of blank air
Devoid of noise or sounds of speech
An all consuming force
Gorging
Digesting
But this has been poison
Sickening my mind
Breaking it down
Believing it with each bite
Hearing the calm nature of silence
Hearing it's preach of peace
I've written the silence with hatred and pain
****** hands holding a knife to the page
Gorging on my own pain
Reusing my suffering mind to escape
Immolating my thoughts with repetition
All in the silence of my mind
Not a soul hears me
Gorging on my own pain
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 2:45 PM UTC