"rotated" poems
our carbon came from the same star,
and as our ancestors rotated around one another,
we have crashed.
we are spinning, spinning, spinning,
like earth to the sun.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
It's not OCD
I'm just anal-rententive.
There are two
coffee urns
in my office kitchenette.
Each urn has
a spot to place your mug
beneath the spigot.
Each of these spots has
a circular insert
of gridded plastic
to mark the mug-placement area
and allow spilled coffee to flow through
so this spot
doesn't become
just a puddle of coffee
soaking the bottom of everyone's mugs.
Each of these inserts has
three indentations:
one on each side
at nine and three o'clock
small, arcing parabolas
like reversed parentheses
there to allow someone to
get their fingers into the
coffee mug spot
and under the insert
to remove it
and, presumably
clean it
and then another indentation
more like a groove
or a notch
much smaller, thinner, and deeper
at the top
that fits perfectly with
a matching
small plastic protuberance
jutting from the coffee mug spot
where the insert goes.
In an almost ****** fashion
this protuberance fits into
this last indentation
this notch
this groove
to secure the insert in place.
For some reason
I've never known
perhaps laziness
perhaps inattentiveness
more likely simple
couldn't-care-less-ness
this insert never seems to be
placed into the mug spot
properly.
It is always placed sideways
rotated a quarter-turn
so that the larger indentations
on the side
meant as finger holes
are placed top-to-bottom
noon and six
the small plastic protuberance at the top
being swallowed whole
by the too-large indentation
and its mate
the groove
meant to hold the plastic piece
so tightly
is left alone
to one side
empty
and useless.
This has always bothered me.
Bothered me more than I would like to admit.
It's such a simple little thing to get right
it would take almost no effort at all
and yet, day-after-day
someone
I don't know who
whoever is in charge of these things
insists
on doing it wrong.
And I cannot abide it.
So, day-after-day
when I go to get my morning coffee
I fix it
I twist the insert ninety-degrees
and secure it in the correct position.
Lately
I have noticed something.
Sometimes
when I go to get my coffee
one of the inserts
will already be
fixed.
Someone else has seen
what I have seen
and felt the same
had the same response
took the same corrective action.
This feels like winning something.
I don't know what
but it definitely smells like Victory.
And Conspiracy.
And it makes me happy.
Happier than I'd like to admit.
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 10:32 AM UTC
One minute,
he's passing out candy
to the local children
and within an hour
he's ********* his M4,
spitting lead at hostiles,
dialed into killing them.
It's no wonder he got inked
with dual scorpions,
one on each arm,
before he rotated
back home.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
You said that I'm a loser
Who talks a lot about loving you without even try to approach you
Who keep silent when your past still haunting you
Who could not make you to be focused to look at me
Well, how should I put it?
It's no use to examine a specimen
When the coarse and fine focus were not rotated exactly the way it should be to look at the object
You will never see the object – nor my venture
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 4:45 AM UTC
I date myself.
A rotated heel
in spring soil
grooves an
agate pocket.
Marbles, glassies, boulders
and an instructional introduction
that life is a matter
of skill, bluster and chance.
Mar 17, 2012
Mar 17, 2012 at 2:12 AM UTC
she was spinning
for the thousandth time
and never fell once,
though gravity pulled at her ears
in circles around her skull,
and the ground yanked
at the corners of her eyelids.
she was blind
and couldn’t see the point at which
her heels rotated against carpet,
but she could hear the washing winds
that swelled inside her ears,
whose disembodied whispers
echoed out of her pearly eyes,
whose voices broke her knees
every time her head shut itself tight.
in the night,
she broke herself back open
to stop falling on an axis.
she peeled the whispers from her bleached skin
in succession,
replaced them in a wooden box,
and buried them under her damp sink,
where they crawled around
in the dark’s ink.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 1:50 PM UTC
I could do tricks with those fingers
balancing acts of precision breath
was controlled for this moment.
One false move, and that moment lost,
sighs were heard, head shamefully hung.
As I would have to start over once again.
"OK fingers don't fail me now, I rotated
getting a rhyme, I heard the excitement
as she released her ecstasy on fingers.
I was her fidget spinner, fingers fine
tuned to do those tricks to make her
world spin, she fidgeted in ecstasy.
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 5:55 AM UTC
Maggie threw a weak left jab at the upper torso of Jacob to throw him off balance and swung hard with her right arm towards his exposed left cheek, connecting her small fists on his flesh with such impact that it immediately began to swell up. He retaliated with a well placed right hook to the side of Maggie's arm that sent her moving sideways before she regained her footing and answered back with a succession of jabs to his midsection.
Sweat poured down both of their faces mixing with the blood from cuts and bruises that both had received in one of the earlier bouts. They were now in the sixth round and neither showed any determination in losing.
Jacob brought his right leg up for a straight kick towards Maggie's stomach but she caught his leg and rotated it clockwise knocking him off balance and falling chest first to the mat. Maggie attempted to a heel lock but could not gain enough leverage to lock it in and Jacob slipped out of her grip and got back to his feet and shook it off. Maggie snarled thru her mouth guard and spun around with a roundhouse, catching her foot just short of hard enough on his left calf, sending numbness up and down his leg. She went in for a double leg takedown but was caught off guard when Jacob raised his right knee and connected it with the left temple on her head. Her vision began to go hazy and she swung wildly with a left and then a right before she was able to shake the cobwebs clear and see him throwing a straight, hard, and fast right squarely at her face.
She ducked less than an inch before his fist would've met the bridge of her nose and she came up with her fists balled tightly in an uppercut and landed on the bottom of his jaw sending him reeling backwards and losing his balance he fell on the ground. Maggie rushed over and got on top of him in guard position and began raining down lefts and rights to his face which he was blocking. She threw a few shots at his side causing him to arch into a kidney shape and bring his arms away from his face. Maggie grabbed his left arm and went for a Fuji armbar and locked it in tightly, feeling the joint of his elbow bending sharply on her pelvic bone. She arched her back harder, tightened her thighs around his arm and twisted the upper portion of his wrist to the left until she felt the familiar feeling of a tap out on her legs. She released the grip and stood up, ****** bruised, sweaty, but not beaten.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
I can no longer eat them
A bag of cookies
We ate them
The day of my first kiss
We were at school
Of all places for this story to start
In the college office
Whenever we were in there
Clara put on headphones to block us out
I now know that she did it
Because she couldn’t stand to watch
This, all of this, happen to me
But I digress
We sat in the college office
You, me, and Karol
You said you had to go
To clean your room
But we could come with
So we followed you home
I hadn’t been up there before
But it’s all burned in my brain
The door opened
Clothes thrown across the floor
Two beds, one for you the other for your brother
A shelf packed with stuff
A TV sitting on a stand
The dresser in the closet and another under a window
Karol and I sat on your bed as you cleaned the room
You brought up the cookies and apples
Set them on the dresser
You handed me two rings
Just too small for my fingers
I still have them, somewhere
They sit in a box alone
I wish I could put these memories with them
When the room was clean
Karol left to go sleep in the van
Leaving us alone
We moved the furniture
The beds rotated to a new wall
The dresser sat between them
The TV and shelf sat in an alcove
They fit so perfect you would think it was made for them
Then we laid on your bed
We put on American Dad on Hulu
The one where Stan had to put his kid’s best friend in the witness protection program
And we laid there for hours
Eating this bag of animal crackers that you brought up for us all to eat
You held me as my back fit in against your chest
I felt your cheek against mine
I turned to look at you
And we kissed like nothing else mattered
Then we sat there like nothing happened
But of course it had
I remember your tongue
Wrestling it’s way into my mouth
Our glasses clanking together as lip met lip
We shed them and we laid there together
eating the cookies
But now you’re gone
And I can’t eat them without thinking of you
Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 1:43 PM UTC
It’s strange that when I first met you,
Our planets rotated in opposite directions
Really, I hardly knew your name.
You were the girl with the turtle backpack.
You were that girl in my theatre class.
Funny, that I had absolutely no clue,
In the very near future you would become
The person that I share everything with.
I laugh when I look back and remember,
We first bonded over a television and a couch.
We soon became “brain twins”
(And let’s be real, we definitely are,)
And I still love our little brain-touch
That we do when we have the same thoughts.
You are truly my best friend,
I hope you know that and always do.
I’m always here for you.
No matter if it means
Going home for a while,
Watching Peter Pan in silence,
Or breaking pickle jars.
I want to take this time to thank you,
For breaking through my shell.
For all the long conversations where
We have shared so much about ourselves.
For always being by my side
And for being completely honest
No matter how much it hurts.
Thank you so much for being the friend
That I always hoped I could have.
Your friendship means the world to me,
And I know it’s something we will always share.
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 2:23 AM UTC
You were always there for me.
I didn't know why I was crying
You did
I didn't know what made me smile
You did
I struggled to walk
You gave me arms
I struggled to talk
You taught
I was indecisive
I was stupid
I was selfish
I was arrogant
I did hate you
I did hurt you
You did nothing
Just stood by
You were always there for me
Things have took turn now
The wheel of life has rotated
But trust in,
You can always rest on my shoulders
Just like,
You were always there for me,
I will always be for you!!!
And I'll never let go!!!!
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
As the sandstorm rises to block the sky
And the air becomes thick with grit
I embrace for the impending impact
Patiently waiting to say my final goodbye
As the gale swept closer my ears began to ring
The moan of the approaching monstrosity
Silencing all but my thoughts on life
To which I prehumously began to sing
"Take me higher up ye selfish demon
You cannot take my sway
For I have traveled further then even you
You cannot block my way"
As if angered, the roar began to increase
The arid tempest rotated and spun
Spinning faster than I could ever think
Reaching down it snatched me off my feet
Together we rose, rolled, and tossed
Till the air cleared and I was alone again
Looking down at my last seconds of life
Realizing the beauty of the world I had lost
So I sang as I fell to my death:
"Do not mourn me for I am now free
Higher up above I can finally see
Ye are not the devil I thought ye to be
All along it was the evil inside killing me"
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 10:13 AM UTC
In a world without time love would flourish
There would be nothing to keep track of but
the flutter of your lover’s eyelashes as you
stare into each other
Introspection would not have limits; for time
itself limits the time we spend with
ourselves
In a world without time there would be no
waiting, no worries
You’d wake up every morning with the
thinking about where the sun is and where
the Earth has rotated to; rather than think
about what time a clock says
In a world without time, people would be
paid for their performance
Rather than be paid for hours spend
dawdling their thumbs behind an empty
counter
In a world without time, mothers would love
their children wholly without boundaries,
without time to keep them apart
In a world without time, people would stop
and say hello to you without the impression
that another wave would make them late to
their minimum wage job
In a world without time, I’d hold your hand
and not think “what if she doesn’t like me
this time?”
In a world without time, no one would yell at
you for coming home late
In a world without time, dates would go on
sunrise, sunset and no one would get up
and say “i’m sorry look at the time i really
must be going”
Why would you keep track of time, when
there are so many more beautiful things to
keep track of?
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 7:36 AM UTC
and there she is,
known as cruel wicked for speaking.
her hair was tied,
her neck was strangled,
her eyes were poked,
her lips were stapled,
her arms were rotated,
her feet were collected,
and she were dressed into something new.
but she did not like it all,
and broke the strings above her.
they called her a demon,
setted her into fire,
darted her heart with spears,
dragger her into venous snakes,
tangled her with ruling hurricane,
just to let her meet their god, lucifer.
yet she is still there standing,
hoping until her last breath—
after all, she is the woman of god
who died from people she devoted for.
"war may be over— but inhumanity remains" ; @wordsbyhami
Apr 1, 2023
Apr 1, 2023 at 9:10 AM UTC
Today I killed
the last piece
of love
inside me.
I fed it poison
and watched it
convulse and die
as the cicadas rotated
shifts in my ears.
Yesterday a blind woman
touched my face
as I carried her through
the desert to
the Holy Lake in the mountains.
She touched my face
and asked me to put her down;
she no longer wanted my help
because she knew my
nothing was greater than hers.
Tonight I drink the shadows
of your name, heavy with
time.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 8:40 PM UTC
Often I think of Billy,
with his great white eyes
& his tats,
arms full of grinning devils,
scorpions & pentagrams.
He was a hellacious gunner
& he loved to use the kabar
& we missed him
when he rotated
back to the world.
Often I think of Billy,
with his great white eyes
& his tats,
arms full of grinning devils,
scorpions & pentagrams.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 5:17 AM UTC
Bad luck--eggs are now an allergen,
I shall never eat them again,
No soft boiled eggs,
Munched to the dregs,
No fluffy omelettes for me,
My lips turn blue, you see,
So, I placed all eggs on a centrifuge,
This is my cunning subterfuge,
I rotated them in this way,
Eggs flew off to space one day,
Launched as astronauts,
Chooks can't fly, I thought,
Bad luck-eggs are now an allergen,
I shall never eat them again!
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 4:18 PM UTC
hellopoetry.com is down
and i have so much to tell you
of love, of flight, of feeling sure
1984's so right
i thought, the certain age of five
we danced beneath the sprinklers
rotated likewise on the grass
my paper hat fell off
the fences of our old backyard far stronger
than any castle walls
dad at the brick barbecue he built
mum at the back door, smiling
cake and candles,
being lifted up,
a moat of inevitable sunshine.
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 7:03 AM UTC
As a resident of hope village be very thankful -
If for breakfast you have just a cup of water,
Say a big prayer to Baba and be very grateful.
Know ye that someday things will get better!
When stock in Hope Village, be very grateful!
I once lived there and boy, life wasn't so easy,
I remember how I would look so very sorrowful,
Using a bowl of water to shave, that's crazy!
Especially when I used old T-shirt as towel,
And rotated an umbrella as part of my roofing
life was hard but hope was on another level,
I knew that answer to my prayers was coming.
Despite the fact that I lived in abject poverty-
Hope made my condition seemed less pathetic -
All my situation was under God's own authority,
And my goals and objectives were authentic.
Never give up, hardship is only a transit camp.
One day your rescue Angel will come souring,
With solutions illuminated with a bright lamp-
Lights you'll always need as you go hustling!
To the residents of Hope village, never despair-
If wind of change is yet to blow in your direction,
Stay strong Hope village, real rescue is in the air,
It surely will if the Almighty is your connection.
I see you are a resilient bunch, so be very strong!
Though trials will come, hold on and be resolute,
Blessing for those with deep hope never goes wrong,
From a veteran of the movement, I say a big salute!
I pray you will keep to the fundamentals of hustle -
Know that on that very special day of God's reckoning,
Your stars will dance to success' beat, not struggle,
And the village's talking drums will echo your blessing.
Everyone far and near will know reward time has come.
People of hope village, come get your reward for courage,
Say goodbye to yesterday and say to tomorrow, welcome!
Soon, your last sight of the mango trees in your village-
Will be a breathtaking thirty five thousand feet far below.
As the white magic bird climbs hosting your dusty heels,
Sad faces will say bye and friendly faces will say hello.
There you'll know how the answers to your prayers feels!
Someday you will return as a great hero to your village,
To lament on the audacity of hope and your very own story -
With motivational messages to give everyone some courage,
Poverty will no longer be the main topic, it'll be history !
#Vanguard-poetry23
twitter @ivanclappers
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 11:04 PM UTC
Whatever happened to one?
One telephone company –
Ma Bell!
You picked up the receiver,
Attached by a squiggly wire,
And dialed the phone – literally.
You put your finger in the hole
For the number or letter;
Rotated the dial and back it came,
Rotating in reverse, and making that wonderful sound:
Ti-ka - Ti-ka - Ti-ka - Ti-ka - Ti-ka - Ti-ka - Ti-ka
Then the person on the other end answered
And actually said – Hello…
No lost calls – no breaking up…
Simply one –
And it worked.
Bleach is even more confusing.
If you wanted clean clothes
You went to the store and bought
Bleach.
You did have a choice –
Bleach or Bleach.
One!
It was easy
You picked up one bottle or the other –
Either one – they were both the same –
One!
Easy.
Today there are 7,826 ½ choices!
Bleach that smells like flowers;
Bleach that smells like fresh air;
(I’m not sure how that’s possible)
Bleach that’s like a cool, refreshing stream;
Bleach that spills and splashes;
Bleach that doesn’t spill or splash.
Bleach in colors –
Liquid – Solid – Powder…
Will there be decaffeinated bleach next?
(More about coffee another time)
I’m beginning to understand
Why people take drugs –
The bleach aisle alone is
Enough to torment the brain!
One was simple.
One was effective
Choices are nice
But better left for the
Wine list.
http://www.leaves-of-ink.com/2019/06/choices.html
Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 8:54 AM UTC
I let these word run from my heart
Paraded by the emotions and tenderness
Thousand and thousands of hurts and pain
Million and millions of love and laughter
I trusted these words to guide my way
Gave them my blood and everthing
Their firmness stood for me when I crawled
Danced with them as they seduced my tongue
I hide in the rhythm and sequence of music
As they permeated my soul, the honesty shield
My voice faded in the unending river of essence
Overtune from a hidden spirit of the yesterday
I believed and these words healed my depths
Sunk in the icebox of caged coldness and loneliness
Memories evading craziness, condensed character
Barricades of conditions and illusionary dissolutions
The keyboard had eyes for me as I winked at it
On its reflection I saw my face, my body, my all
The rotated changes, the persistent difference
A simple kiss, a warm embrace, an extended thanks
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 10:11 AM UTC
been rhyming too much
I'm outta my rhythm
bearings are off
can't do a thing with 'em
been rhyming too much
I seem stuck in one gear
engine is straining
it's all that I hear
been rhyming too much
transmission won't shift
can't get it right
it's going adrift
been rhyming too much
think my tires are deflated
they're not turning well
must need rotated
been rhyming too much
starting to swerve
steering is out
threw me a curve
been rhyming too much
seems all I can do
come on everybody
where's my pit crew
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 7:46 PM UTC
I found a ewe today,
stiff as a stone.
Her maturing lamb, just lying there.
Massey Ferguson Undertakers remove,
as the lamb; busy, jumping around with the rest.
The flock is rotated between OBGYN,
buttercup-ed fields, the barber to your dinner plate.
Still, on cold nights and wet days,
underneath the ash, the lamb looks out —
heavy, like the leaves — sort of
still hoping;
Sep 4, 2010
Sep 4, 2010 at 2:31 PM UTC
This is the tale, too often told
Of the idiots and the bums
And why those silly fools applaud
Whenever the apocalypse comes.
When things get good for common folk
Those in power get extremely worried.
They fear people will discover where lies
All the freedoms the rich people buried.
They were aware, while the populace isn’t
Of the changes they made in the laws;
That the elite put in place corruption
Where opportunity so recently was.
The poorly-named Conservatives
Quietly un-conserved the truth
In order to tie the hands of men
And proselytize our gullible youth.
They vilified and imprisoned those
Among the un-bribed journalists
And went right on stealing from us
And having their illicit trysts.
Those who knew they could not rule
Unless they made villains of heroes
Bought their way to power with
Wiith numbers and many zeroes.
The populace was fed huge lies
About how horribly poor we all were,
Implying we were no better off
Than cavemen wearing only fur.
They taught the stupid among us
All of the idiots and the bums,
That they had the only answers,
That they could reverse the sums.
The idiots are easy to understand
They are looking for some answers.
The bums sit back and let it happen
And never get their stuff together.
The bums decide everything is fine
Until they lose their jobs and houses
And then the *** and idiot both;
What to do? He whines and grouses.
Meanwhile even more of the wealth
That it would take to fix our land
Rotated even more back and forth
Between the same few hands.
This is what happens every time,
This is the cycle that repeats here
Defeating progress and smashing hope
Year after Conservative year.
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 3:47 PM UTC
I'm telling you
I rotated through a world
of symbols smacking me
straight in the jaw with
with their static persuasion
clear
mindedness is a notion
easily lost under the
bridges and over
grown in the river banks
with nasty roots
soaked up in the
grime and grit
of this town
keep following that
windy path
that winds over itself
like holographic
anti-dimensional
shapes and viking
rocks that float
through you
I rotated through a world
I'm telling you
Jake Mahaffey
Copyright (c) 2013 Jacob Mahaffey
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 11:11 PM UTC