"selectively" poems
Of all the cracked sidewalks
The winding maze
Of everyone else's shattered city
He traces calcium caked bones;
Ribbon strips of dyed out dreams
Close your eyes, close your eyes!
Selectively seducing the spires of silence
Romancing the carnage soaked thoughts
Smiling all the while
Mar 25, 2010
Mar 25, 2010 at 5:06 PM UTC
Gardening The Forest: A Work In Progress
I garden the forest.
Walking everywhere – like Johnny Appleseed –
I keep my excellent Swedish clippers at my side,
And when I eye a roadside tree
With branch too low, so’s I can see,
I make the lower branches go,
Prune and clear selectively,
Clip high as I can reach,
Which,
Being five foot one
And using muscle of the female kind,
Is always kind to undergrowth,
Seduced by ‘further’,
Blazing paths that never were,
So light can filter through.
It wants for sun. It makes for light.
The woods and I are one;
But I can’t tell a soul.
Wandering on until de-celeration
Starts to take me over,
Signs I’ve learned to recognize
When fervor starts to waver
And observer me says “Rest!”
Works in progress never cease.
It is a forest,
After all.
Work In Progress: Gardening The Forest 11.28.2006 revised 1.18.2014/again 4.20.2015
Circling Round Nature; Circling Round Nature II:
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 4:47 PM UTC
My choice or his design
I am hypnotized,
selectively blind
Claws cradle the head
Control the mind
Sweep over my face
And cover my eyes
He kisses my lips
Conceals my mouth
Stops air from getting in
To prevent words from coming out
Under a crown of talons
I am his Queen
As he sits on his throne
I'm chained to his seat
May 7, 2019
May 7, 2019 at 12:33 PM UTC
She sees blindly, selectively.
She sees the man whos arms are the only place she feels safe, not the violent brute who beats her if she breathes to loudly.
She sees her friends who care about her more than anything, not the people who complain to her constantly, as if they've forgotten they have working ears.
She sees a job she loves where she gets to help people, not the one where her boss feels her up & tells her if she says or does anything, she's fired.
She sees the man in the elevator who says "good morning ma'am" every morning & "good night" every night, not the man who stares down the revealing shirts her boss makes her wear to keep her job.
She sees the man who helps her wash her car, not the man who spits at her window & calls her a ******* ***** because she accidentily cut him off.
She sees freedom & a way out, not the gun.
She sees blindly, selectively.
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 9:48 AM UTC
What is the ultimate evil
Well pineapples on pizza
Where is that stored
In pandora's pizza box
What the ultimate evil for men
Talking about the deep stuff
And no guys not ***
The feels that we repress
That we keep
In our Mandora's box
No these feels are like pineapples
Some people are totally fine with them
And even share them
Though most people don't want them to
But sooner or later
You will come across pineapple pizza
And just like the feels
You can ignore it
But it's still there on the counter
And sure some could throw it away
But then your throwing away pizza
You could pick off the pineapples
But there is still that juice
Just like there is still that fear
When you talk even selectively about feels
Ok so just eat all the pineapples
No chance not for you
Not opening up to you
But you got to open up to somebody
And maybe they make the pineapples
Taste like a meat lover deep dish
Probably not but maybe
Just a little better
Aug 7, 2017
Aug 7, 2017 at 9:48 PM UTC
we all flow through life like rivers
here and there, crested glimmers
sun shimmered
atop waves once ripples
at last glance of this looking glass..?
men surely shivered
locked in depths of mind
where feral thoughts blind
binded by
"my" mentality
the self is selectively obsessive
malevolent
eloquent
evident
in heaven sent temperament
I.
I..
I...
can do no wrong..
can do no wrong.
can do no wrong!
those with bias
revel in personally pious thought
a myriad of self destruction
pompous contemplation
decimates civilization
we all flow the same way
we all ride the same wave
once a ripple from a stones throw
bound to glimmer when we all flow
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 1:43 PM UTC
Words expressed to the one I love
Selectively picked just for you
To show I am here
Now
Tomorrow
For all time
Placed together and presented to you
With an understanding of your past pain
To give comfort
Belief
Healing
For love
Letting you know, no matter what
To the extent you determine
At the parameters you define
I am yours
At your command
No limits
These were not just words to me
I thought you knew that
I thought you could see
My heart
In your hands
No protection
But to my shock and dismay
No sooner did I give the words to you
Did you turn and give them away
Wow
****
How can this be
You say there was a different context
And I just don't understand
When you said the words to her
They didn't mean the same
Really
Huh
For real
"In Any Capacity"....hmmmm
The meaning seems quite plain
If there is another definition
I wish you would explain
In
Any
Capacity
Regardless what the reason
This is what I assume
You had to give the words away
Because you hurt too much to consume
Them
What they meant
That they were for you
If you knew that you were worthy
If you knew what their meaning could bestow
You wouldn't have thrown away these words
For someone you barely know
Devalued
Defiled
That which you feared
© Tina Thompson
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 12:33 AM UTC
As the sun reaches it zenith & the moon becomes full,
Soldiers are deployed at various point,
Allowing their thought to wander away into ephemeral violence,
Well armed,
Red pointers at human sight,
killing in the pretence of liberation,
Defenceless civilians murdered in sight,
I don't have the adequate vocabulary to constructively & emotionally create that atmosphere,
As a poet they don't mind if I make a sound
But it's a real problem
if I ever get too loud,
It enrages me,
I'm bitterly miffed,
Imagine the agony, stress, depression & tension they are
going through,
Let's be factual,
Their based desire & legitimate purpose is to associate ,affiliate & standardize us as terrorist,
They come in front of our tv & give us speech our forefathers have never heard of,
Humanity in it eternity have been blindfolded & deviated from the truth,
They have become the fixed & Luminous center around which innumerable lifestyle revolves,
Civilization will not lead mankind to insanity,
It feels good to be in power ,
But a day will come when they will ponder, reflect & introspect,
but their reflection will be to no avail,
Reflect over what I say,
In silence & tranquillity,
We may be on a Long arduous journey,
But victory is to the oppressed,
Categorically & selectively speaking ,
It will become a practical reality,
Innocent souls are been lost everyday,
In pakistan,Syria,Iraq,Iran
Yet the conference continues,
Killings intensifies,
Women are murdered,
Fathers are slaughtered,
Kids are held captive some rigorously excluded,
Without them labouring humanity searching for peace will perish,
It's a sad time we live in,
Educated leaders with no heart of human sympathy,
Acting upon their based desires & ego,
You may call this character assassination,
I call it supreme words of justice
Only time will tell who is the true terrorist
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 5:41 PM UTC
As dear young children,
remember when we shared beliefs sitting on the swings?
and now on park benches, we find solace in the years the season brings.
Watching as the souls of the world live as kings,
when we were drunk on Halloween.
It was that night I realized what beauty was.
Our first night in the new apartment,
every room still empty.
We would get electricity tomorrow,
so we used candles.
I could see the mosaic glow of your face,
and it took me to a brand new place.
You were only wearing your underwear and my worn out sweater,
lying on the floor,
the floor that was covered in wine and scratch-offs.
The whispers of candles in the background.
My mind was wild, but now misused,
my eyes are a child that’s confused.
But my love will hold you when you’re sleeping,
and caress you when you’re weeping.
The season in your eyes,
it selectively identifies,
my face in the foam on the side of the glass,
right next to the episode of cries.
I only wish you were near me,
but you will never love me sincerely.
When will I escape these human emotions?
It feels like I only go through the motions.
Within that moment,
where the heated altercations wither away,
where the blazing screams end,
and the confessions really begin.
Where the funeral is quiet tears and melodic eulogies,
suppressed by the far cry of the brain,
filled with eternal apologies,
never to sustain.
Within his final thoughts before he hit the train.
Now we hold hands in a Eucharistic reunion,
only to steal our emotions from the young ones.
Every reflection of the light on the trees,
they taunt me with wonder and euphonic memories.
You won’t find a flame in my heart,
I've never been shown that part.
I’m a stranger to myself and that’s okay.
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 3:28 PM UTC
let's not make this mercy killing into a tragedy
if you mourn, i'll recover my grip on reality
realize what i've done
and i can't handle that responsibility
i accepted my fate the first time i lost my mind
knew i'd forever be stuck outside my head
fought for a few years more,
but now i'm done with this
i will fall like the primaveral rain,
soak the earth with my brittle rotting bones
let the flesh decompose
ease my mind, cleanse my soul
tangled up in vacillation
mania-white staining indigo perceptions
the future never seemed so trivial
(who said i couldn't live like this)
wide-eyed, selectively hypersensitive
i'm ignoring what lies ahead
i don't want to think about it
i'm destroying what little chance i had left
precipitation replacing perspiration,
erasing perspective,
drowning out my voice of reason
just let me breathe
cause i'm so sick of responsibility
this is just the cycle of life
perspective's leeching the necrosis
from my bones
i will be reborn as a lesser being
so for now just let me
pretend that the flames are home.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 2:51 AM UTC
It's not that I'm cold
That I'm heartless
Or ignorant.
For one thing,
My passion for life
Burns bright enough to warm
My whole being,
My mind and soul.
For another,
I am heartless
Because a certain someone
Ran off with it
Yet I still care
For certain things
And lastly,
I'm not ignorant
At least, not fully.
I just selectively ignore
Those who are not worth more
Than a warning
So here's one:
Back off
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 4:00 AM UTC
I ask myself a plethora of questions as I lay weeping on my bed in the pursuit of crying myself to sleep at night.
I ask myself how you're so untouched by the ordeal of my pain, by which you have inflicted upon me.
How is it that someone can mean so much to you, or at least act like they do, and then stab you in the back, heart and stomach; simultaneously? How is it that someone can neglect your feelings so quickly and selectively? How is it that someone can jeopardize all that you've had and been through just for one insignificant, worthless moment?
These are just a small selected amount of questions that penetrate my ill, mind.
But it's your fault. Entirely. And I will blame you for eternity, infinity and furthermore endlessly.
From young, innocent specimens we are persistently told that hurting other people is immoral, so why are certain beings so immune and untouched to the pain that they inflict? Why are certain beings so rash within their decisions and therefore their actions? But most of all... How is it fair that specific humans are so untouched by their barbaric and murderous actions?
You might be untouched by my affliction, but at least I am in touch with my morals.
Guilt will drown you but the current will move me on.
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 2:19 PM UTC
Beauty is the thing,
That which all Men desire,
and all Women Strive to become,
It is in the Eye of the Beholder,
Something that we selectively want,
and something we learn to Love over time,
no matter "Fat", "Skinny" or "Curvy"
People CAN be beautiful,
But true beauty,
Is the Beauty of the heart.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 5:49 PM UTC
My husband has a special gift,
that, in a way, I have myself to blame.
He doesn't just selectively hear,
creative hearing is his claim to fame.
My simple request; "Can you come help me a sec?"
Will garner a "Sure I'll have some coffee."
So, what do I do? I get him a cup.
Wondering if he had really heard me.
I guess it's just a marriage thing,
that comes with the territory.
That a man will hear what he wants to hear.
But, for creativity, George gets all the glory.
You see, rather than risk "Whatever you say dear."
Not knowing what he is agreeing too.
He slips into creative hearing mode
and says what he wants me to do.
Feb 12, 2011
Feb 12, 2011 at 4:53 PM UTC
Wielding one balance before me:
Divine intent, no tool for an evil genius
Levied ‘gainst one jar wrought of glass,
Within fine grains of coal.
My sins may weigh to graphite
Fitting, for no blanket of Heaven
Suits my restlessness.
Cast me on parchment
Where I spell out the pain
Of never capturing truth—no human may.
Enigma, Aestheticus, vibrant, complete
Finished, or full. No, I utter to Venus
A Pygmalion word to know
All as art and beauty so well
As to paint it carnally.
Give me that which is love made manifest
On lithe little toes, walks her
Which, parsed out selectively
Is revealed in awesome moment, eternal
Subjectivity. Either she steps from a canvas
Strides from a dream, I awaited it, organic
To come into being, to escape my grasp
And make useless poetry.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
This is a story from the Army Apprentices School, Arborfield, which was not far from Wokingham in Berkshire. I started my soldiering there on 15 January, 1959. It was a memorable first day because on the way there, through a window of the London to Wokingham train I saw a real, live cow and that evening, in the cookhouse, I had a pint *** smashed over my head. Anyway, this poem relates to the passage of information and the dangers of misinformation, and in a way is relative to my first day.
(While waiting for a train)
A bombardier and corporal were arguing the toss
About a job they had to do, about who should be boss.
The corporal said 'it should be me. You know the way we train.
My being in the Infantry means that I have the brain
To make sure job gets properly done, and doing it is really fun.
That being said - this job, you know, we really ought to flick it.
Would you believe they have us down to run a fire-piquet?
Replied his mate, the bombardier, 'even if it's cavalier,
I'm the one that fires off gun so I should get to have the fun.
And working the Apprentice School appears to me to be quite cool.
These AT's., they know their stuff, and work they'd never think to cuff.
Why, one even told my daughter, ‘on fire you never use hot water.'
Perplexed, his mate then asked 'why not, use h2o when it is hot?'
'Stands to reason' said his mate (they stood at Railway Station),
'Hot water on a burning fire just ups the conflagration'.
The two both spent that weekend off at home and in the yard.
Concluding individually the task was just too hard.
And so, selectively, they chose (so soon as they got back)
To do the work at Arborfield a smartly dressed lance-jack.
A Fusileer with bright cockade, four GEC's and bright
(though he said he'd had to give up two for getting in a fight).
He drilled the boys of Arborfield exactly as he orter
Whilst urging them to 'never, ever, ever use hot water'.
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 7:31 PM UTC
silent as the moon
stalking the streets
we are the night
we are life - life incarnated
a family
a family who met just months before
a new identity
pain vanishes into pleasure
a euphoria like no other
sharing our life force
to become one
for eternity
it is an honor,
to give my blood to you
and you to me
we do not do this lightly
and only selectively
but the dangerous thrill
is still there
a game of dominance
and acceptance
I bite your neck,
my acrylic fangs
break your skin easily
I claw my nails down your back
and watch the blood drip
my tongue trails along the cuts
your taste is coppery with salt,
blade dancing kiss
our tongues
trustfully pass the razor
back and forth
I take the razor from between my teeth
and slowly dig it into my arm
watching the blood bubble up
offering it to you -
a perfect gentleman,
never breaking eye contact
you savor my essence
then holding my hand
you gently kiss my knuckles
***high on the
life blood of our existence***
***crux ansata,
the key of life***
*
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 3:19 PM UTC
The first lesson in being here is inherent to be here and that is breathe, yet the second is that we are (can be often) separated by willingness. Others are not an extension of our own. It can be a self pitying and even painful experience especially if our needs are woefully neglected. By the time it is deduced others willingness comes with other awareness than our own a form of self responsibility has set in, albeit active/reactive. We are spawning fractal-ly from here, the new from there.
All is selectively derived and subset from the greater with regard to identity, memory and consciousness. All flows perfectly from such accordance...
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 12:51 PM UTC
Nativity scene number fifty three
signs shout "Silence and Prayer" overhead
Publicly kneeling despite words we read
Innocent giggles sound profane instead
Selectively ignoring just to fit in
ourselves to the mold of our past
secretly telling the priest of our sin
but bowed in the chapel of glass
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC
"what's that? you can't get out of your bed?
too weak to be alive, too lazy to be dead?
well! take your zoloft effectively
just inhibit reuptake selectively
and soon you'll have the energy
to end your life impulsively
or be rid of feelings entirely
a chipper, cheery half-zombie"
"your panicking fits interfere with your day?
i'll lay out a feast, a benzo-buffet
ativan, klonopin, xanax oh my!
not just for those who are too scared to fly!
pop two and kiss all of your worries goodbye
and your memory, too, if you come to rely
on hours spent watching your life pass by
just try and object through that stubborn tongue-tie"
"your circadian rhythm is not quite right
you're asleep with the sun and awake in the night
so take one of these twice before closing your eyes
and wait for the dreams that will doubtless arise
too vivid and real to know truth from lies
and the nightmares will be an unpleasant surprise
but stopping abruptly is duly unwise
so just find your stars in trazodone skies"
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 2:44 PM UTC
Once upon a time,
The night of rendezvous with him
Went like the scent of daisies everliving.
Eyes...
Selectively rising to meet mine
Wearing meek and hesitant makeup
Concealing the flushed feelings
Towards one another.
Lips...
Enjoined to avoid bursts
Of cackles loving the latter's
Oblivion
Dissembling yet verifiable
Between us.
Alas, 'eternity' shall never persist
For this remains a pipe dream
Shackles of his indifferent family
His aura bipolar to mine
Alas.
Carpe Diem
A sole motivator
Diminishing the mirage of hopelessness
Flourishing his debonair charms
Spell bounded and cherished
Today.
The End
Far afield
The Story
Began to see daylight
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
Welcomed this sensational feeling with all these horrific images
The selfishness of the world
The breath of wind blowing from its dead lungs
Is enough for anyone's self-destruction
While everyone idly stands by
They're dying inside
...The flies swarm
The urban hyenas
Collectively they feed on the dying breaths of all living things
Selectively they breed...they are the future...Can't you see??
Dec 9, 2010
Dec 9, 2010 at 2:41 PM UTC