"sensationalized" poems
Homecoming body:
A grey cardigan strips down,
bonding skin to
night’s air,
penetrating
Chevrolet safe havens
drowned in lover’s spit.
My Mind
thanks Google,
enabling electronic bibles
to leave disciples stifled
with religious quotas,
an excuse to quote us —
“Trouble at the Border,
read the former
court room reporter
working for the,
sensationalized,
through remnants of
blood stains in our eyes.”
Midway through Chapter 1 —
reeks not only of
of *** in the backseat —
but of Venezuela’s shorelines.
Of her high school hallways.
Of the intrigue of the unexplored Mexican neighbor,
her freedom amidst constraint,
where Visas
lease us
advertising campaigns
for maquiladora made lampshades.
Despite their protest,
common sense
lent comparisons,
a consequence
of stories told in reverse.
They hover over Venezuela’s familiar curves,
her long black hair straddling my shoulders.
Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 8:00 PM UTC
Though the loneliness sets in, among the crowds,
Here, within themselves, they find their solace;
Euphoric events have now lost their appeal;
Mindfulness is the key to rest, they recite;
Exaggerated were their extravagant emotions on the dance floor,
Losing themselves in self discovery;
Over-sensationalized was the persona,
Diving into the depth of purple elixirs;
Rave, rave, rave,
As the sun replaces the strobelights,
Melancholy rises with her rays,
And suddenly, life seems meaningless;
The melodrama,
It strikes;
Cleaning up the champagne glasses, after the catastrophe
Nov 7, 2021
Nov 7, 2021 at 9:20 PM UTC
in the dream i float naked at the sun
waxing and waning fractal plasma whorls
exposing and hiding scope like
complexities in a loved eye
rushing photons scraping
blasting perfections imperfections
i'm so sorry
memories banished on solar wind
where they can finally die
horrible versions of myself
driven insane from constant performances
of sensationalized sins
i carried as penance to no one,
expire as impossible sighs in a vacuum
forgotten
as freed cleansed me pulls forward
on a sunlight tether smiling sobbing
molten tears universes tumbling
constituent particles scoured away
dipping my head into a roiling hydrogen ocean
to hear ultraviolet symphonies play how forgiveness sounds
Jun 26, 2011
Jun 26, 2011 at 1:25 PM UTC
I live in a nation where the cow is worshipped,
and there is no king regnant,
but it’s funny, how the cow feast on crap,
and the farmer becomes a peasant.
I live in a nation of aye men,
who say aye to a baloney,
of media which protects the cow,
but let the peasant starve slowly.
I watch daily, the television debates,
where logic is razored by bigotry,
and no talks about the peasant,
gagged into silence by the authority.
I witness a bathtub getting sensationalized
when a mid-aged celebrity died,
the debt he’d laden of the dried crop,
no rain never did the sky cry.
He later worked as an indentured laborer,
for a landlord who drinks the cow’s ****
as a saffroned monk says it’s healthy,
way to the eternal bliss.
A student who sloganed for freedom
from the maw of poverty.
My media says he is a traitor,
and so is the entire university.
At least, let’s agree to disagree,
that is essential to a republic,
let freedom of speech not be seldom,
and never shall it cease to exist.
The peasant must die soon,
and no more shall he crouch in dread,
may someday he incarnate as a cow,
roams free on the city streets, and feast on free bread.
Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
You're wrong you know.
You're not afraid of crossroads,
Not confrontations,
It's not indecision
Or fear of failure,
You have no issue with regret.
You're wrong,
And being wrong is not the problem,
It's not liberty that afflicts you,
Or binds you,
Roots you to this place.
You're wrong,
And though you're tired
That's not the reason,
You have no real desire to give up.
And society, your friends,
Your loved ones are blameless,
It's not the past that puts the pit
Of doubt cemented in your core.
The future is uncertain
But you know that's not
The burden
That incites rebellion
Throughout your body
Leaves you
Fighting with yourself.
You're all wrong,
Because you understand the solution,
You know the puzzle of the present,
the senselessness,
The answer that they give
Has no function
No relevance
No possibility
No relief.
To live life in the present,
To embrace it,
breathe it in,
To ignore the thoughts that cloud
All action,
To make the most of the moment right at hand--
Is Impossible
For the present is a fiction
They are wrong
It can't be measured
There is only past or future
The now does not exist.
Each “moment” that you visit
Is braided
To past and future,
Demands study and reflection
Impacting everyone and everything.
Every “moment” that you speak of is
Not an individual,
Has no uniqueness,
Scarcity and rarity are imposters--
All is all.
Each person past and future,
Every worm and every atom
Every thought and every planet
Singularities
Intertwined with molecular precision,
And every insignificant
Decision
Is momentous
By design.
The reason,
The answer,
The solution for which you're searching,
The misunderstanding
That's been floating beneath the surface
Of your mind,
The resolution to the question the never ending
And unnerving
The unyielding perplexity
That has you yielding to the ebbing flowing tide
Is that you are not an individual,
You are not uniquely different
You are not a figment
Or a stain or an error
You are not a wink of time.
The reason that the crossroads gives you pause,
Doubt,
Fear, anxiety,
The reason that indecision sometimes
Seems to be the guiding force in every moment
Every magnified, sensationalized
Magic nothing in your life--
Is that you are all,
You are everything,
Now, and then, and when,
You are forever,
You are purpose of all itself,
You are every universe
You are an infinite infinity
Divinity resides in everything you do.
And everyone you see, and interact with,
Everyone you love and hate,
Admire,
Everyone you have forgotten
Everyone you'll never know
Every stone and every sinew
Every straw and every beetle
Every drop of blood that flows from heart to heart
Or spills from any soul,
Every all and every anything is affected by your now.
You are not afraid of insignificance, your instinct
Knows
The truth though you ignore it—
The responsibility you fear is
The magnificence of you.
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 1:33 PM UTC
When I asked you what it felt like you were vague.
You told me only bits of the truth among beautiful sensationalized phrases.
And I kept asking you because I wanted to know.
I wanted to know what it felt like to be used.
I only realized when you left me that curiously can be dangerous.
Because instead of telling me. You showed me.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 2:49 PM UTC
Though it bruised my outside, it sensationalized my insides
It made me feel like he loved me so much that he would take a bullet for me and point one to my
Temple, my body is a temple for him to, like a baby, get your hands on it and rip it apart
Intentionally, he wraps his hands around my neck, spits in my face, and calls me stupid but I let him
Feel around the room when he’s around, he is
Darkness is the brightest thing I see, I have learned to live without the light
Lampshade aimed right over my head when I wake up, he told me if I loved there will be no
Beating heart, hurt I felt when I cradled him one night, his toes like honoring angels carrying him wherever he saw
Fit right in-between my wedding vowels to death do us
Apart from the dresser, you open up and find a key, use it when you see
Fit right down below the wooded floor joints there lay freedom
Where I lay when I say the wrong thing
I scratch the floor while I’m down there, **** some time while he’s killing
Me, so gullible, I just wanted to do what I saw
Fit there, aren’t the divorce papers, no we don’t believe in that
Even when he is beating you until your pulse is black and blue
Even when you’re so scared to eat but you still don’t know the next time he’ll feed you
Even when his joy comes from watching you struggle to escape his grip
Even when your eyes are tired of closing, because that’s where
Love is the baby that you lost
Love is how he cried and didn’t eat for a week
Love is the cold bathroom tile where you lay staring at your still-born-baby for a week
Love is do I get help
Love is I am your only help
Now get off the floor, stop your crying
You’re too weak to go
Anywhere? Is that better than here?
Divorce? Of course not
Till’ death do us apart, right?
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 6:09 PM UTC
I was recently told
from a credible source
that a famous band wrote a song
about a difficult time in my life
it’s not from the album Dark Horse
but it is a song filled with judgment
defining me as selfish and weak
no love given for my struggles and strife
or painful journey down the Long Road
at first this left me
feeling less than and meek
but then I realized we are not defined
by the perceptions of others
even famous rockstars don’t
have the authority to diminish
our vibrantly true colours
so if someone you trusted
is telling dramatic stories about you
remember the only way
they get power
is Because Of You.
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 9:43 AM UTC
Screen Door Always Open
Flashback of a slow train on a narrow track, visions from a car window or old pickup truck
Memories of tasting dirt roads and noisy toads, taking it all in while old wheels spin
Arrival looks like a revival minus the Bible, Wind washed home between railroad tracks next to a river bank
Juvenile sensations sensationalized, taste of mulberry, watermelon, Kool-Aid in Tupperware, refinery a constant scent of tar or diesel, Smell of whitewash not political yet, waiting line at the tire swing
Barefoot brings bee stings, soft familiar feeling of clover between toes, whiffle ball for all, plenty to do for me or you, willingness to play holds highest rank
More fun catching bait than avoiding the old bait and switch, Lessons laid out and kept separate like hooks on a trot line, uncaring for the memories these days would bring
Collecting sunshine brings blistering burns, red skin clashes with red hair, grass stains and heat show no pain, remove both with wonders of the wash tank
No hills but a few Dales, Lakes and streams in between, Grandma Nellies reward a penny for each dandelion dug endless fodder for young hands to wander, like a merry-go-round little minds spin and spin
Few recollections of adults they must have been bored, stayed in shade porch protected, order by age from front to back
Melancholy notes drifting down from meadowlarks or mourning doves, mixed country or Beatles on a.m. radio, sights, sound, tastes enter, mark unique imprints on our soul, carried softly to the end
No future lost when unknown, will we miss it when it's gone, Ciyfied now to those old folks I still give a bow,
next time we see an old house with the screen door wide open is more family's adding to memoirs to their masterwork
R.C.
Jun 12, 2022
Jun 12, 2022 at 2:46 AM UTC
The seduction of our Salivary glands began with masses of often overlapping flavors
Tingling leap start ,wide eyed but also an abrupt whoa,terrible to terrific
Oblivious ,willing to try ,why not ,blending in the beginning learning tastes as translators
Breathing in and licking the lips ,wiggling and giggling ,is it? is it? OH the dog.
Sensory sensations occurring regardless of our inhibitions or wants or needs ,occurring around ,mild or profound
Youthfully gullible , playing a new game ,scents & smells starting to form deeper wells
Blush with a rush ,warming into oranges the pinks more profound when arising into the reds ,leaping circling around
Begging for release from the beginning ,but unknown excitement rising edges ,wider wedges ,calmer pastels
Flexing ,fluctuating far out feelings ,far flung excitement all gathered into one instant nervous burst
Staying back,trying to adjust ,mildness is objected to when the rest of the time is only described with bright adjectives
Then we laugh because we have it hidden ,but never quite knowing the blur still an unknown abyss,but always first
Open minded children begin the journey into finding nameless noises,shadowy flavors or tastes moving,directing like detectives
Burning RED, drops of BLUE, Icy WHITE, now fixed in the mind ,time lost in odors ,blinking color palates poised
Wanton wisps centered onto extreme extracts ,visualized often sensationalized into auditory overload
Simple as it has begun ,left with nowhere to run, taking it in stride it can never be put aside ,permanence never destroyed
Excreted excitement now being assessed is a far flung idea ,unless you live it, Raising and rising into an endless plateau .R.C.
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 8:44 PM UTC
I was born in the northern lakes,
in a small winding wave
of unpleasant emotions.
To dream of me was a myth,
conceiving me an accident.
Yet they confide in me for comfort,
they drill me for being raw,
and take my goodness for grave abandon.
Their love is sensationalized,
asking for new leaves to shade them.
But growing up had never meant growth
and I keep on getting chopped up,
to light their dying embers.
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 12:50 AM UTC
Do you have any idea
How much I love your
Purple sunsets and your
Old baby blue guitar?
The way you play for me
On the beach late Wednesday
Night before the cops bust us
For breaking curfew
Bury my feet in the sand and
Hold my head down beneath the
Waves like you hate my guts
But I know you love me
Only you will sing to me when the clock
Strikes midnight or pour out your
Heart to a stranger
I love nothing more than sensationalized
Love stories, since I must admit that I'm
Only really romancing the idea of you
Since I think you're missing in action
And that's okay
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 1:56 AM UTC