"sensibly" poems
One is seemingly more impressed
by the less endowed or blessed
when somewhat incapacitated
and borderline inebriated;
the monstrous unconscious
disregards the likelihood
of fathomless undergarments
in other dubious departments.
Disregard the random blotches
or the involuntary discharges
instead revel in model tonsils
and almond shaped parcels
the comets of multi-notches
like a strange attraction
for disheveled carpets.
The blossoms of toxins
a libation ensemble
almost near horizontal
each movement a bent nozzle
like a prehistoric Narwhal
dancing like a jackhammer
with the elegance of a cement mixer
a broken leaking fissure
seeping vapid glamour
and indecipherable grammar.
The paraphrased clichés
and communiques of praise
like lost prophets put on display
caught in the ricochet of overplay
making an exit with the grace
of a stumbling ballet
down a poorly-lit
nightclub passageway.
Ultimately this can only lead to
the face-plant moment-of-tomorrow
the flooded memory of the-night-before
feeling utterly spent
hungover and hollow
with ill conceived consent.
The: Oh. My. God!
The: ***** is still here,
what do I say?
Hoping inexorably
they would just get up
and silently fade away.
Beer Goggles:
remember to drink sensibly,
or run the risk of
nasty STD's
or unwanted pregnancy
or breathless infidelity
or reckless insincerity
or if you're really lucky,
just another
session in therapy.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 9:17 AM UTC
Defining Lego Moment? What is that, I don’t own one!
Life growing up was unacceptable – it was chemical and dispensable
My life has never been a bed-and-breakfast - early childhood memories got me ill and susceptible
Tryin’ to find a good early childhood memory is like NOT passing “the test”, because I wasn’t in class. So I ask, what’s next?
Defining moments were replaced by worries and doubts, fears and shouts
My, oh my, why couldn’t I have been brought up in someone else’s house?
I’m just me. So why can’t anyone see I’ve got dreams I want to turn into reality?
I know, maybe I’m adopted! Oh, I could only wish that I belonged to a different home
So who knows, maybe I’m supposed to grow old in a world where survival is at the core of my bones
Future me, I hope that you see, I’m not like them, nor do I ever want to be “like them”
-----------------Fast forward to today ---------------------
I thank GOD for the life I was given and the road that was driven
I’m here because of those dreams which started out as fears - I’m what I am because of those years
I know that I wouldn’t’ be here if it wasn’t for those days of dysfunction and tears
I’m at a junction in my life - I’ve realized that my unction in life is an exponential function that shines like a bright light
My tears have been replaced with people who are sincere and true
I no longer have to worry about the black and blue, now I can simply wave ado…
So I chose to become not what I saw, but what I knew was right in my heart. I leaned on God and learned from stressful nights that choosing the road less taken was all part of this plight
And here we are today….
Now, what does this say, about me?
It says that I’m a child of Destiny, not a child of Disney
It says that I’m a child of God not a child of the Devil
It says that I am…
Predestined presently, sensibly created even though I didn’t come from the best pedigree...
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 1:52 PM UTC
I have grown
a beard,
luxuriant
in its whiteness.
Whenever I encounter it
in my mirror,
it says, sensibly:
Behold, Mike,
time is short.
Grow up,
find a place,
take a wife,
be an adult,
settle.
To which I reply,
delighting
in my recalcitrance:
No way, beard!
The difficult
is my destiny.
Be my beard
Black or white,
I will always
be a pirate.
- mce
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 10:01 AM UTC
I’m the girl with the loudest laugh in the crowd, who warms the bodies of those who surround with happiness; the girl who puts on a smile and lights up the room, the girl who is there for everyone in their times of lonesome tears and times of trouble.
Within my laughs are cries of pain; among my lips is a dreadful control, constantly attempting to stop the quivering muscles; inside the bright room, the shadows wrap around me in their soothing embrace, drawing me into their abyss yet again; I’m the girl who wants to be comforted, calmed, and loved.
Notice me, and what I entail. Listen to my words, and try to understand their meaning. Look into my eyes and hear their quiet whispers as they spill out the secrets of sable struggles, a seemly sacrificed soul, and a sensibly sobered sanity.
This illness crawls through my brain, embedding the virus deeper into me, and stripping away all remembrances of my wholesome well-being. My body shivers and shutters despite the piles of blankets on top of me, or the two jackets upon my back. This physical cold is nothing compared to the grim cold running through my veins. I’m dawned with illness as my muscles shake and strain from the trifling weight of my own sorrow.
With each brush stroke, more hair comes out. The dark, twined mane falls on the floor of my bathroom tub, haunting me with judgment. My nails are peeled, the bags under my eyes darkened, the shine from my hair gone; all to feel normal. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, why am I doing this to myself?
___________________________________
eating disorders, bulimia, depression, lost, lonely, depressed, struggles, pain, coping, mia, ana, life
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 5:11 PM UTC
I
Tired
the long road ends
by a sea wall
The engine dies
to cries of estuary birds
to halyards’ **** and tinge
A lake of light set in night’s cloudscape
brims over the western marshland
to seaward a dense darkness
On the ferry’s step
ear close to the brown water
a part-song sings the ebb tide’s flow
II
Threading into the marshland
a braid of cloud-reflected water
of oval sedge and common reed
In amongst the brown canes perspective vanishes
only by mind’s foreshortening or body’s levitation
is there sight beyond the creeping rootstock
By the river path a leaf
pearled with glazed dew glistening
dew grabbing the photographic eye
Standing backs to the horizon
a sculpted triad of bronzed ancestors
watch over the summer rites of music
III
This ****** field
moves clamorously under the feet
waiting waiting for the sea’s kiss
Proud-coloured the boats here
resting poised on railway sleepers
beside their tractored guardians
How to know which way to turn
which view to hold for memory’s stamp
this patient sky this slow exhaling sea
This foreground flow of white-grey-brown pebbles
each sensibly-sized for the hand in the pocket
yet substantially-singular on the window’s sill
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 4:12 AM UTC
7 billion super ****
i wonder too about all this
my idle mind goes into overdrive
i think of the 7 billion humans
the ruling elite may or may not **** off
leaving just 500 million left alive
they don’t need our taxes
i was thinking 'sensibly' how they would do this?
a virus is too iffy
nukes too destructive/radioactive
how about sending unmanned space probes
to asteroids with spare engines
put the engines on the rocks and fly them to earth
all gps guided
either say the rocks are for mining for recourses
or just use them as a weapon to **** 7 billion
my idle mind lol...
May 17, 2021
May 17, 2021 at 9:28 PM UTC
I speak sensibly,
Wonder often about what they see,
Mark perfection only as a nominee,
Find a way to make everything out for me,
The older I get the more confusion I achieve,
Like a fledgling, green, senseless thing,
Who are these people wheeling and dealing in well-being,
Refuge, degrees, friends and family,
These are the things that are supposed to be comforting,
But I am in the cellar,
Looking too closely through wide open glass,
Squinting at the lights of the self-proclaimed insane,
Effected for a second giving myself away,
Oh what I would give to have more art up on display,
I would let it be the only thing I want each day,
Let it change how I behave,
Let it live without a frame,
Find the way it likes to hang,
Handle it until it caves,
And colors confined by lines are freed,
In the lair of the fauvist fiend.
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 4:02 AM UTC
Oh- falling to the floor
falling off the bat; a swing at love, again
It's not all the same, indifferent but still
the clueless cliché. Anyways what could
I say to not seem the clingy type
a softie sometimes, knowing he'll marry
a strong wife
A dragon, fierce fiery breath
she speaks a word of fantasy, and unlike
the rest- she has a tougher flesh, and presses away
my insecurities with an impressive hug pressing
on me with an impressive chest
Self control out of the handle of my reflection
perhaps my emotional side is never-ending
Cherished by a face that could never disguise a smile;
my awkward smile, belonging to Mr always nice guy
Confidently shy, shying away from being a razor
of cutting words to chat up a girl
My mistake to chat sensibly after a little rude talk,
mixed in those silly jokes. I choke on my physical words,
a silent face and volumes of confidence only in these poems
Club scenes are meaningless to me
meaning less of me would be less active than seen
I'm falling in between an introvert, and a little
extrovert trying to creep out a bit
It's always a risk, and amidst in the mist of dispersion
of a stretched out imagination of a ******
Told always, "you really need a girlfriend"
good at making conversation with just a girl friend
Till feelings are involved, it sort of does in my head
Spares to a secondary nature of testosterone
spiking at a random
Making passes of being a little passive- my confidence
isn't so massive, although my caring eyes and heart
are at times attractive
But I still have the eyes of a jealous man; possessive
to means if I find you as a potential. Potentially pointing
out my heart's gun to shoot around your lines
I'll still be a little awkward saying my hie, and wanting
long hugs goodbyes
I'm just so sorry for being this constant shy guy
Jan 11, 2023
Jan 11, 2023 at 3:58 PM UTC
I am the oldest kid so
Stop playing with that baby.
I want you to myself.
It’s all about me.
The other kids at school
A behaving so horribly
They don’t understand
It’s all about me.
I am so sorry you have
Fallen so hard for me.
But I have to be moving on.
It’s all about me.
I’m going to quit my job
Because it’s boring me.
So many creeps there.
It’s all about me.
I’m running for office
And it’s going swimmingly
After all, in this job
It’s all about me.
I don’t have to specify
Or make promises readily.
I just smile and tell lies.
It’s all about me.
My kids are obnoxious
They need attention constantly.
Don’t they understand?
It’s all about me.
My life would be better
If people behaved sensibly.
After all, the reality is
It’s all about me.
It’s all about me.
It’s all about me.
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 4:45 AM UTC
No sweeter flower could give such a vacant stair in the grass on the bank and it hurt in the sun, when everything had so much meaning to the world that we spoke.
Touching her skin thought the man how to fly to the girl with the beautiful arms, but flying was lying for with his hands held aloft he fell to the floor like a stone.
Now should he have given his wide open arms and grasped so tightly these leaves, when the flowers were lost and the petals were dreams that were blown in the cool autumn winds.
Touching her skin thought the man how to fly to the girl with the beautiful arms, but wanting to escape he held up both hands and said I’ve both feet on the ground today sensibly.
Senselessly the birds and the bees, they sung their song on and on!
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 7:26 AM UTC
*Sensibly we talk and nonsense we go
Orthodox are the words uttered
Profane are the verses sang
Deceptive are the eyes buried
They appear pious and they are saints,
I speak sacrilegious and I am vindictive
How the flowers bloom is fate,
How the flowers bloom I hate
When kindled is the vigor
Ignited are these roses,
Of Vehemence we had a feel
Of Abhorrence we had to ****
My own path I have,
My own dreams I latch
A soul wandering at the prairies,
Gored yet numb with your poetries
Amorous is the depth inside making me drown,
Covetous is the realm outside wearing a crown
To which force will my heart listen,
Lost in labyrinth I am and fallen into warren
When left as memories are the stories,
And burnt into ashes are the memories
The sun had consumed the earth I know,
But not the world of artifice we had grow*
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 4:10 PM UTC
For every emotion songs have already been written:
poetries and sonnets,
angry beats and ****** ballads.
My more positive, happier self is an extra-terrestrial being
from galaxies far away:
No cutting off fins from sharks. Unlike lizards’ tails
fins don’t grow back.
Love. Respect.
No ceramic idols lining the windows
their empty gazes crawling up your spine.
No empty promises. No magic cures for baldness.
Phones on mute during class. Eat sensibly.
Take a breather – life is not a race
to the finish line. Have cleaner washrooms.
Less unwanted criticisms. Less trance.
Love thy country.
Pin-striped shorts
from M&S; Stronger will.
No slitting wrists or overdoses. Suspend disbelief.
No secret candy stashes. Do your laundry without being told.
Omit racism, misanthropy. Wilted flowers by the windowsill.
No secret phone calls in the middle of the night.
Who are you afraid of? Almost and nearly don’t count.
Come home.
Forgive favorite band for disappointing album.
Be kinder to puppies.
Brood, not rant. Skulk, not stalk.
Get my name right.
Don’t drink and drive.
There are no gays, no lesbians, only
people with feelings.
Fight, not flight.
Have more 24-hour pizza places.
Avoid politicians, traitors, lawyers.
No throwing around words like vociferance,
vociferate, vociferous.
Accept fate – don’t be a martyr;
One day everything fades
so hold on to
all your post-it memory
until every star
turns to dust.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 6:03 AM UTC
Today the last of the tents
Were dismantled, erased from the desert
And all but the children have forgotten
If they knew at all.
Only the sound remains,
The vibrato of the dust bowl’s choir,
The closeness of the vibrations
And how they clawed their way in
Beneath the arteries.
I, laughing,
Was floating far above your figure,
Though grounded in the eyes of strangers
Who could reflect only elation.
You anchored my hand with a finger.
Here see the Man fashioned with twigs
And the Davids of our Michaelangelos,
While love love
Love grew in an orchard all around me
Until it met the sky
And I couldn’t sensibly distinguish the two.
This was were the sound began,
Our throats chapping, we saw only a torch
Traveling in the absence of an architect:
Our eyes had broken. An explosion of
Anticipation shook you from your language;
The flames ventured toward our Man.
I remember the color of music,
And how forever
The very dismantling of reticence
Burned for us.
Dec 12, 2012
Dec 12, 2012 at 2:31 AM UTC
Can you imagine my surprise
When I woke up with thunder thighs
I looked in my mirror and
It gave me back a knowing grin
Hard and heavy the diet days
And all of my sweet tooth chocolate craves
Knowing what's in front of me
Makes this fat boy wanna scream
So I check out the internet
To find the perfect diet yet
Lets see......
***** injections from a pregnant babe
That seems to be the latest craze
How about this bubble wrap
I just might be down with that
Who is there to really say
Which pill and how many I should take
One that sympathizes with the way I feel
While feeding me pint size starvation meals
Here's one guaranteed to clean my clock
While the next ten days I'm on the toilet docked
This is funny...try and eat more sensibly
That's like a foreign language to me
Get your daily exercise
Obviously written by some wise guy
Goes to prove just what I've heard
On the internet don't believe every word
How about the Himalayan soft cheese wrap
The secrets in the cheese to squeeze off the fat
Or I could go the Hollywood way
Have it ****** out and back to eating in one day
There are so many options here
It's hard to know which way to steer
As my options all expand
Think I'll just go buy elastic waist band pants
And learn to enjoy in my own eyes
The fact that I have thunder thighs
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 4:15 PM UTC
The time haply hath come for her to burn
Off the chaff, as the Arab Spring, in turn:
Plenty here are already living in earthly hell
Whose souls in lack and want daily dwell--
Sans meals, sans clothing, without electricity,
Without job, without warmth, and sans salary--
Who from heaven's providence good do fend,
Whose expectations and fulfillments on it too depend;
Yet this present president against the citizenry
Welfare hath gone ahead still the oil subsidy
Sensitive to remove, doubling and trebling forthwith
The price of things to a cut-throat level; he wit-
Less, meseems, is our economy dire to manipulate
Sensibly and cannot such consequence great calculate
Hence adding to our festering injury salt of hardship,
Who was voted into office to manoeuvre this ship
Out of doldrums, for whose victory lives perished
As their faithful flames into eternity vanished
During the ugly mayhem that did ensue after the
Presidential election of last Spring,
dying untimely.
This, sailor sterile, is our reward from thee, methink,
By making this giant vessel of Nigeria to deeper sink!
Jan 4, 2012
Jan 4, 2012 at 3:46 AM UTC
Today's lesson's theme is political repression, through
Media deception, how men behind the curtain,
Treat the truth with an aggression, displacing crucial issues, by
Societal regression, material fixation, obsession with *** and
Through years of inspection, I've learned to detest them,
My mind reels in anguish, I battle my depression, 'cause
When I look around, do you know what I see?
A bunch of petty ******** that makes no sense to me, and
I can't help but feel, that it's not meant to be, see
These many different reasons, why I'm stressed mentally?
Cause if we'd all get together, and behave sensibly, then
We'd throw these crooked bankers in the penitentiary, but
Instead, it's L.B. he was down on the block, the
Cops stopped him and found a crack rock in his sock,
Now he's locked upstate on a 5 year bid, though
His crime can't hold a candle to what Wall Street did
Wait... did I say 'did'? I did?... I meant does
Modify the tense to present; that's an is, not was
'Cause those ******* empty suits stay all day on a buzz, from
Champagne, ******* and the high class ****** then
In board room meetings, while behind closed doors,
They all gamble on the future of entire generations,
Make austerity and poverty, with wage stagnation, and
Stack private prison profits, selling mass incarceration,
Take steps at every turn to undermine our population,
These are ravings from a psyche with a short supply of patience.
I'm a little bit curious, why you aren't furious, and
Sometimes, I wonder, as they pillage and they plunder,
Where we're all gonna live when the world's torn asunder, and
I wait for the day the giant wakes from its slumber, and
The voice of the people, shakes the earth like thunder, to
Shatter shackled chains, and alleviate the pain, but
I guess my final question must be: do I wait in vain?
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 3:07 AM UTC
Is it possible
To love invisibly?
To feel a love for something you can’t see?
To hold it close,
And feel it brush your soul
Like something warm, a fire, a burning coal,
To get you through the times when you’re apart
And only see the image in your heart?
My answer is
Yes.
Because love
Is blind
And it doesn’t ask questions.
You don’t need to see someone
To know that you love them.
Most love is loved in absentia anyway,
Knowing you’ll miss them when they are away,
Loving them, perhaps, in more measure than you do
When they are standing right in front of you.
Let me this way begin:
You cannot see the wind,
And yet you may love it most sensibly.
For love itself exists intangibly,
And manifests itself in many forms.
And I will love at times invisibly; weather the suns and storms,
For if they shut my eyes once and for all
And I was blindfolded against a wall,
Held in jeopardy,
I’d count on my love
To save me,
Not in a foolish act of desperation
Or blindly trusting someone I cannot,
Not damsel in distress
But knowing this:
If I truly fall in love,
I will be able to trust them.
They will not wrong me,
And they will have nothing to hide.
So even though
I much prefer to see,
It won’t be hard
To love invisibly.
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 2:21 PM UTC
My mind is a constant jumble-fuck
Of emotions.
Questions.
To-do lists.
Taboos.
Fantasies.
Realities.
Secrets.
I get side tracked
And confused
When I try to voice my concerns
Because I'm concerned on how
What leaves my mouth
Will enter the ears of the ones around me.
How insane will this make me sound?
And sometimes the words flow
Jumping from my throat,
Trapped too long inside.
I need to express all that goes on!
It's been too long,
Since pen has touched paper
Intimately...
Lately I write what needs to be said
But only in the sense of
responsibility.
Emotionally I'm a mess;
Sensibly too.
I'm insensitive to my own being
Simply because I censor myself
for the "need" of others
The need I place for them.
I'm so concerned that I will offend
Off put,
Miss represent,
Everything about me
In a single sentence...
But the crazy seeps out
One way or another.
My tongue will dance
With the devil I have convinced
Myself that is truth.
I'm so afraid of who I am really,
I've made up another being
Who is me
And not me
Or at least who I used to be
Who I am no longer
But whom I still
too often, long for.
Lusting after what I worked so hard
to be free of.
The shackles still whispered on my arms.
The temptation to dive
Undeniably out of control
In order to feel
Complete control
Understanding
Emotions.
Questions.
Taboos.
Fantasies.
Realities.
And those extremely tasty secrets.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 8:47 AM UTC
A tiny dancer twiddles across my usually blank mind.
I’m defined by the choices I make.
Commercials are killing me.
I wish they were ads for cigarettes.
Maybe then it would make more sense.
Sensibly, I call you out from under the ground.
Just to see you dancing.
It had been a while.
And I feel my foot tap-tapping to the sound
of your body gliding all around me.
Magically inclined.
I'm defined by the choices that I make.
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 4:45 PM UTC
Don't approach
the humanity encroaches upon the macabre
I dance pencils, pens, and cigarettes across my knuckles
like hypnosis
I drink and smoke until I'm hypnotized by Hippy free love ideals
This **** makes no sense
but I'm fine with being sensibly nonsensical
It's a character trait
when you're strange
the doors and good old Jim
couldn't capture it better
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC
His name was Natas and he drove the Uni-Link.
Keen occupation.
For a hellish dude.
He didn't wear any aftershave, with even a slight sulphuric twang.
He wore a bristling beard, that just covered up his pointed chin.
This bus driver.
Pleasant looking chap.
Was he really the bringer of mortal sin?
Really the bus driver this Saturday morn.
He smiled at the ladies.
Flat cap perched on his head.
It covers up his mini horns.
He was driving the ten thirty from Swaythling.
Off to town we go.
Hi **
He drove safely and sensibly.
Got me to my stop.
My destination wasn't hell.
Neither was his today.
(c)Livvi
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 10:31 AM UTC
Dumpy semi-feminine somethings,
ambling rotund wrecks of time –
wraiths of increased girth and grayness;
womanhood unsublime…
Where the dignity in aging ?
Where a minimal decorum?
Could you not yet bear some vestige
presentable in public forum?
All I see are jowly short-hairs:
Dressed to dullness, clipped-face mean.
Form subsumed by frumpy function;
drab routine.
Surely God has taken vengeance
stealing thus your womanhood.
Is this sloth? Or liberation
…misunderstood.
Other cultures guard some glory,
seem to age with more élan:
picture nomads, desert queens
of Mythistan.
Chiseled faces, sculpted hard
by time and faith and fate and God
lines unsoftened by abundance
I applaud.
The Godless West lays waste to glory.
Is our ease of life to blame?
Casual geriatric matrons
bring us shame.
Is it North American only?
Is this just genetic traits?
All such mortal non-description
insults the fates.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 9:32 PM UTC