"shorted" poems
I think we've found
an understanding
A common ground
Island in sea
I dont want you to feel shorted
So listen to me now
This is so important
When it comes to you and comes to me
I know there was uncertainty
But I also know how things are now
What we feel is more than what we usually allow
ourselves
And Its okay to let it come
And I could tell that you just wanted someone
So let me in you're the only one who can
I may be the only one who understands
Its okay to not have a plan
Its enough to simply be a man
I've never wanted
Something more
Don't hide the flaws
That I adore
No need to try
And fit a mold
These are more than just
Some words I've told
And I know that
You're very smart
But you embrace the brain
And hide from heart
I've hurt you, and you've hurt me back
For egos sake and what we lack
We can't take back all the mistakes
But Amy said
Its where you're at, not where you've been
And Its okay to let it come
And I could tell that you just wanted someone
So let me in you're the only one who can
I may be the only one who understands
Its okay to not have a plan
Its enough to simply be a man
I don't want to run your life
Or even be your wife
As much as I just want you to know
That I empathize
Its intimidating when something feels so good
Scared it isn't healthy or that you neglect the things you should
But you can't deny
And I would never lie
So let me in you're the only one who can
I may be the only one who understands
Its okay to not have a plan
Its enough to simply be a man
Its okay to let it come
I could tell that you just wanted someone
Its okay to let it come
I could tell that you just wanted someone
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
They say I can't chase you next
Can't seek out the moon over Mexico
or relive the tears I shed on the plane
home,
I can't feel the tirelessness of our forever
like the hope that dawned and set inside your eyes
I memorized every stitch in the broken couch
and I can still see us there
You're studying, I'm sleeping,
Planting rhubarb and watching our trees grow
Lightning shorted out the reception tower out back
As I sat on the end of our bed, mind blank, and laughed
All the glitter on the stone patio and the shirt left in the rain and the socks hung to dry on a hook you
Forgot
We kneaded pizza dough and watched Roseanne
That I jumped on you in the middle of the storm as you held me,
Kissing while UMF raged
In one loud, still moment
You are stopping me at the towel shack
Finding my legs under the restaurant table
Shoving my mittened hand in your pocket
Asking me to stay
Messaging me
and I know I'll chase you again
I just can't be with you now.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
You tell her you love her
she says "I know I can see it in your eyes"
you look into hers and beneath the aqua blue
you can see she loves you too.
But she won't say it. She just turns her head and bites her lip.
She's not supposed to say it.
Willpower is something I strip off nonchalantly baring my naked soul
she zips hers up and holds it tight, she's not ready to be free
You share a visible yet impassable love
a beautiful gift kept tied in a bow, never for the world to open
Two stars floating in the universe meant to collide
yet always passing each other by
Chemically balanced, but time is never on your side
The sparks fly spitting out flames
but never catching fire
All that remains is a shorted circuit
because she never could be free.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 1:57 AM UTC
The Commercial says:
Collect the whole set!
Buy Tommy Toddler™! –Now says 6 gibberish phrases!
Buy Hannah Housewife™! –Laundry basket and stove included!
Buy Stanley Stepdad™! –Comes with realistic child abusing action!
Buy Cole, the College Student™! –Life-like *** and beer ***** scent!
It says: Buy the whole family.
Batteries not rechargeable, but included. Residing inside.
No assembly required unless buying Ralph the Retired™ – in which case,
Go to the hospital and inquire, am I covered ?
Have I expired ?
At the store I’d, see them all sorted, and sordid, clumped in little bins. Together.
Sort of. See,
Lawyers, and scientists, and authors were all in higher priced bins.
I felt shorted.
A cheap skate like me couldn’t afford it, wait-
there are the janitors, soldiers, and waitresses, each only a quarter.
Somewhere in Taiwan, thin children wont to wanting,
Are making Model Americans.
Patching together assembly-line-lives, no breaks inbetween,
Workers named High School, College, and Career sew mini seams.
So many seem, to delight in dreaming the American Dream,
To leave earthly bodies and become pristine; little dolls.
Toys colored C.R.E.A.M.
“…and the home of the brave!” ?
maybe, home of the depraved.
Home of the pre-made, pre-packaged, and
Enslaved.
Displayed, in plastic tombs engraved. With phrases like:
Save! 50% off!
or perhaps it’s 50 stars off.
50 stars that are missin.
Cuz Old Glory sure looks like a **** question mark ( ?)
End transmission.
Restart television with Remote Control.
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 3:00 PM UTC
oh, little ones
if I could build you a worthy city
to keep you safe and dreaming
I would crush the hope I had left
into a powder,
mix it
with all the things we grown couldn't be
and lay the slurry out to set,
harden it with sun and air
not hate
forming a foundation
where futures could be built
oh,
but my tools have no power
I dented them in fury and shorted them in tears
before they could be used to build
oh, little ones
if ever I find safety in this homeless land
I'll wrap you in it
in a heartbeat
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 11:24 PM UTC
Karma was a dancer
at the Déjà Vu,
trading fantasies a few days a week
for ***** crumpled bills and
then living the dream on her days off.
That was before I knew her.
Before she faded just a little.
Which is not to say
that she was no longer beautiful
with her mermaid hair,
the color somewhere between
phosphorescent amber and
burning chestnut brown,
down to her *** and falling all around
her painfully sensuous curves.
The faint pucker lines 'round her mouth,
that liver spot,
a slight, barely discernable paunch,
I could see such things, too but
they only endeared me to
the façade of some silly notion
a kin to forever.
We would stay up late,
even on the weeknights,
wine silly and
**** chatty.
She would dance
and I would tell her
****** poems in exchange.
It seemed like a good trade
to me but the truth is,
she was being shorted in the deal.
We said,
I love you
but I’m not sure we knew
that we didn’t really have that
to offer one another.
Both of us had sold more
than we had ever bargained for
long before we met.
When money ran thin and
times grew hard
she split.
Hope still stops by on occasion.
(She was a dancer, too).
But it seems a bit easier to distinguish
differences between the faux
and the genuine these days.
She doesn’t stay long.
I like to blame it all on Karma
despite knowing that I was just never
quite frugal or savvy enough to afford more than a few perfume-drenched moments at the foot of the stage.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC
Feeling bold, I walked into the garden
- where i saw the fireflies, the light posts, the moon shining down
- the moon gave a direction, the lights upped the way, fireflies spiraled through me in the wind
- seeing a bridge illuminated, two koi directly under it had been circling each other in a dance
- i walked across, and through my footsteps, did the rain droplets in that pond ripple time
- the fireflies fell first, the light posts shorted out, the moon left orbit
|dimming|shrinking|flickering|
Fading. The koi were disappearing, my footsteps slowed to a halt before the coming darkness. And before I forgot what they looked like - they all merged and flashed.
Bursting white, hot, light,
+ bleeding gold, the sun broke the sky
Jan 8, 2024
Jan 8, 2024 at 4:47 AM UTC
[I understand Shakespeare played every role around his theatre such as managing the theater, acting, directing, playright, etc, etc. Too many responsibilities for one man. He was treasurer and everything else. What did he didn't do? Was that true about him I ask in all humility]
William Shakespeare, wordsmith king…
Some people doubt he did all things.
Such teeming thoughts for just one man…
Perhaps Chris Marlowe had a hand
Among some others underfed
Who sold their work to buy some bread.
And Will for one bought many plays
Then claimed the work through present days.
No sweat upon his brow rolled down…
For those he claimed for shills and pounds.
That system shorted men with skill
And all those credits went to Will
And though the man was very great
He kept the profit on his plate
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 8:42 AM UTC
Always knew I was light.
Constantly running from prisms
thought I contained the spectrum
if I held on to everything.
Trying to shine new in the old light
till comparison shorted the whole thing.
All my past encounters now a mirror
each gathered around me.
You'd think I would see the truth. But
I'm only left wondering:
how I surrounded myself with so many
and why they are all strangers.
Refracted into forks till I was just going in circles.
Avoiding the breakdown ends there anyways
The universe holds the spectrum and prism
that wishes you to diffuse as a ray.
Know the rhythm of your wavelength,
the universe catches up with all of us.
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 10:49 PM UTC
*"My future ex-wife,
are you still alive?"*
The thought hit me as I was out of cigarettes one Monday morning, when I remembered that the previous night I was only able to smoke half of my last one. I had put the shorted cigarette underneath of a spring doorstop, still in plastic and uninstalled, that lay resting on the brick pillars erected on the front porch of the house. For as long as I've lived there, that doorstop had been lying on those painted bricks just waiting for a half of a cigarette to protect from the wind and snow.
The filter, on that common Monday morning, was ice on my lips, and your frostbitten love was inside of my lungs.
As it smoldered and spewed twirling blue swirls,
I sat and recollected upon you.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
I see you in the dust particles
waltzing in late afternoon sunbeams
I see you in endless train tracks
curving out of sight and into
uncharted territory inside your chest.
I'm sorry I didn't know how to loosen
my dead bolt grip, you were your own world
and I selfishly believed
I could grasp your full potential in my tiny fingers.
I assumed you were linear,
two dimensional;
one chapter rather than
an entire library of life.
I know you wanted me to speak up,
unhinge my jaw and let
the unwritten poems of my mind
seep into your ears.
I didn't think telephone wires stretched
across so many miles just for dead air.
I didn't think you were
listening so hard with your eyes.
I've been shaking my head,
trying to find a solution
rattling around in some stray cranial nerves.
Maybe that's why they call it shock
when it's not electricity at all.
We went from caves and brutality
to covered patios and toxic taser tongues
ready to etch high voltage vocabulary
into my bones until that's all I have left.
You wanted a better fight
but you shorted my circuit.
I let go all at once and I couldn't turn away
when you stumbled and crashed into a new reality.
I still have trouble laughing
around the lump in my throat
when people joke about trees falling in forests
because the way you said my name
still has me by the throat and some days
I think your grip is what kept my feet on solid ground
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 3:49 AM UTC
I.
White’s imprisoned gray.
A black sole subdues
one red glove with a crunch.
There it will pause, fingerless
until the first thaw.
II.
The sun's amber frown of diminished light
slides down black branches
a blundered slight,
but when it hits the ground, it rides
wonders of uninterrupted white.
III.
Steamy columns of warmth
slip through the crack,
pawed open by blue purrs from his white cat—
a tonic wash, to welcome.
slush-slicked, black boots back
IV.
Nuzzled, from the muzzling of a drowsy-
days-long muslin wrap, brown earth bursts
through what white patchwork's left, to cure
her forbidden tramplers with a slurpy
and black-mouthed, aubade kiss.
V.
Winter’s white makes shallow breaths,
and exhausted she coughs black
complaints about the crushed
green of popped-down bottles,
a cellophane orange cat with a close hold
on his shorted stock of shock-
yellow crumbs, and the assorted other
man-made matter mocking
her color, but never her,
wherever they stay.
Feb 3, 2011
Feb 3, 2011 at 11:41 AM UTC
I cannot put my finger on my dissatisfaction
I cannot slake my thirst
I cannot sate my hunger
I cannot itch this scratch
I cannot imbibe it better
I cannot forget it, worse
deaf--dumb--blind--limp--sad--stupid
I feel I am seeing in the second dimension
when I know the fourth is called for, now!
I cannot expunge this record, these memories, or the lack thereof
I cannot remember the effort, or, where things stopped or started
I cannot describe this inexplicability,
I cannot remember the introductions
criss-cross logical thinking
twanging words, tungsten,
copper, and sheets of steel
sautered, bolted, shorted
circuits crackle and spark
blue like the ocean water
burning the water in skin
and I find nothing on an endless loop around the
Möbius strip, no, nothing, neither starts nor ends
I'm stuck in some Escher stairwell, so frustrating
I feel like an imbecile that knows not of a named
thing that stands before me, if it were a snake, it
would bite me, what, ( ) it is so close?
boy, this stings,
this ***** to be
struck by something, and
I don't know
what
I cannot find relief from catharsis
no, that hasn't ever worked at all.
dizzying, myopic thing that keeps me awake
show yourself, show me how, or what, wants
this thing thing thing this thing of something.
I cannot find my ( ), no,
I cannot find anything at all.
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 2:12 PM UTC
I heard my life in mono before I met You
We became stereo
Me: channel left
You: panned right;
A cohesive strengthening of sound
A mutual clatter of turbulence, with such underlying beauty
Only we knew the clamor was best for Us, though no one believed
As the cacophony grew, Your speaker buzzed and squawked
I played unaware, loving the crescendo
-
Eventually, as stereos do, You
Shorted out
Grew weaker and weaker with each
Note; melodies were crumbling
I fiddled with the wires,
Hoping, wanting both sides of our discord to stay true
-
Then you were silent
Eerily and I kept screaming
Roaring with a clatter that could have blown my own side of this
Disquiet. You were muted, hushed
Now I hear but half of my life
The left remains;
The right, You, are not even
Static, and I pray for mono
Again
Apr 10, 2012
Apr 10, 2012 at 10:17 PM UTC
The earth is hollow.
Banished mortals scream from below.
Our space feet crush the phony sounds.
Unwavering black X’s.
Pass through their innocent lips.
They are the silenced symphonies.
Playing the darkest of hymns.
There exists no core.
No fiery depths to burn and rot.
Only caverns of black upon black.
Her body is hollow.
Relentless wolves howl from within.
Their earth feet grind them further down.
Pretentious white lines.
Surround the face of the wild.
The shorted soliloquies of wind forgotten.
Turn away from nature’s song.
There exists no core.
No fiery depths to burn and rot.
Only caverns of black upon black.
May 31, 2011
May 31, 2011 at 1:44 PM UTC
For Melanie
Together is no more
When supper is simply a food mix
When voice changes are an expectation
When the broken cannot be fixed
And the time spent away becomes a sensation
Together is no more
When vacations are a dread
When the car rides are silent
When the Little League stands are dead
And the heads grow heavier
Together is no more
When the bruises get darker
When fuel comes in glass
When walking home seems harder
And everyone longs for the past
Together is no more
When the therapy is snorted
When the tree gets chopped
When the nerves are shorted
And the cycle cannot be stopped
Together is no more
When a home becomes real estate
When the composure breaks
When the lover is now a mate
And Lucifer raises the stakes
Together is no more
When the candle burns out
When hatred is the only sight
When existence is a doubt
And anger silences light
Together is no more
When unity is tossed
When fear is the only notion
When family is lost
And love is a mere distortion.
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 12:42 AM UTC
Comparisons can **** you.
I struggle with them.
We all do.
Your views are distorted.
Expectations are shorted.
Could you see what I see,
There'd be no negativity.
Wish you could be like her?
Cool minded, tall, and thin like her?
So focused on her you lost yourself.
9 times out of 10.
She too does not have super thick skin.
Secrets hide, deep within.
Wishing she was pretty enough,
Skinny enough,
Tall enough,
All for him.
Girls don't know is they should wait.
For the guy worthy of a date.
If he loves you, he'll take you the way you are.
He won't leave a mental scar,
Of how you aren't enough.
Because you are.
still thinking she's better than you?
think again.
Everyone's great in their own way.
Don't ruin your day.
Making a comparison
That will tear you down.
You are your own.
You are enough.
Why be someone whom you are not?
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 3:06 AM UTC
Oh, pity the suits! The masterful class,
who Robin-hood traders just kicked in the ***
Sitting high in their towers of concrete and steel
They thought naked shorts were the art of the deal.
They shorted more shares than are said to exist
So henceforth they just ought to cease and desist!
The retail investors, those dumb money fools,
Bought up call options and took them to school.
The rich lost their shorts and maybe their shirts,
They can perhaps sell their mansions and go live in yurts.
If they have some bitcoins perhaps they can sell them
But never buy shares in a hedge fund named Melvin!
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 2:41 PM UTC
Dear former self
* A Warning of Things to Be Aware Of:*
THE BOYS WHO TELL YOU THEY LOVE YOU ARE LIARS:
Wringing out emotions that are told in angry whispers
Their tongues like whips will leave you in small rooms
With familiar strangers, crying about guilt that isn’t there
Circling fingers, burning scars into your flesh
Leaving you to doubt everyone after them, trailing fire.
Forgive them.
It’s been traced into their DNA.
YOUR MOTHER WILL LEAVE:
The porcelain plates she dropped with be carved from your bones
Leave the tattered reasons why
You cannot help her escape the life she chose
To rot in her rose garden.
Do not ask if she is coming back.
A poet as a daughter, a disappointment.
Forgive her.
She does not know better
** YOUR DAM WILL BREAK:**
The trust you weigh on your family, so close knit
Will forever weave you to them.
A stray will appear. In the form of voyeurism. a break in stichting
Lens glaring against the morning sun streaming in through the window
Seven times.
Forgive Him.
Actually, don’t.
YOUR LIGHT WILL NOT GO OUT
Ceaseless.
Do not flick the switch.
The circuits are shorted.
Love, yourself.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
Today I ripped up that inked paper
Crafted, inked sketched
To shorted the distance between our difference
Something that hasn’t happened yet
Negativity, is all it brings me
And it lays in pieces by my bed
Seeing what is there
Instead of what I made
Lays
Alone
In pieces
No one ever appreciated you
Not like me
Not like I do
In some ways
It was perfect
Celtics player
Patterns
Green sprayed across
A piece of paper that struggled
To say
It doesn’t have to be perfect
But I took it down
Because they never understood
What it stands for
Stood for
…. No shorter of a distance
Paper doesn’t make a bridge
to cross the gap
between the difference
of you and me.
today I ripped that paper
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
her ******** shorted out.
so she flung it across
the room
like a
shoulder launched
cruise missile.
then,
there was a knock
at the door.
hastily pulled she,
her jeans up her legs
about her *****
wrapping long cardigan
about her for warm
as she went to the door.
opening it wide,
there stood
the most,
gorgeous hunk,
of a manly cowboy
her eyes were ever to see,
ever to set upon,
ever again.
"havin' a bit a trouble ma'am?"
"anything i can do to assist?"
asked he,
tipping his wide brimmed hat
so very
gentlemanly.
"why yes i am."
"and yes you may."
replied she.
"would you like to come in
and take a cup of tea
with me?"
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC
I gave you everything,
And for what,
A few fleeting memories,
And $3.99 Hallmark cards,
Never knew my love had such little value,
And there are no returns,
My next partner will be shorted,
For I cannot get back the love I gave to you,
I know now that you didn't deserve it,
Yet the damage has already been done.
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 5:17 PM UTC
out of sorts
and sorted out;
in senses of shorts
and shorted for love.
caught in life
as i fell to death
to be caught stealing
your heart and your head
from the skin you'd held them in.
now they're caught up in me
and they're catching on;
i'm hardly thinking,
bleeding, and breathing.
i'm living. imbalanced.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 1:24 PM UTC
I thanked god for my Taco Bell
And waited for you to speak
I got taller as you cried in my arms
I think they shorted me baby
The moon's a coward tonight
He lets clouds in bed and freezes as they pass him by
Stick your fork in the socket
Your eyes are a speckled green lightning
And your hair is erected like skyscrapers in the big city
All on my own, I wander into the poorly lit Bar of America
I find dream lovers and myself a fair heir to that mans throne
I sit in haste although I have nowhere to be , no one to greet
A maiden turns her head to me,
Expecting her to speak, I prepare a question about her lineage
She remains silent as a politician's mistress and dresses as such
I focus my eyes down to the floor as the barkeep drops glass
A family tree of poison spreads through the floor, creeping to her shoe
She offers me a drink called "i think I know your father" and is confused when I reply "no, thanks."
As my body is pulled from the inside to the outer brick, a short-haired phantom pulls on a smoke as the carcinogens seep out through her skirt
Nice weather you're having
Transparent red fills the street above my battered shell
I lie to myself as I lie on pavement
"My time has yet to come" I say
"I'm still with myself"
But everyone crowding the nightcrawler's bar knows they are on the way out.
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 1:19 PM UTC