"skeptically" poems
She was a wonder of Nature, a special
thing,
Had this lovely aura about her
The way she held herself, the way she
moved.... way she spoke her words
A real classy Lady that's for sure... a proper woman
What the hell she was doing with me I don't know.
Anyway I invited her to my house one day for tea
She so wanted to see where I lived
She was only in the door when she playfully ran her little
index finger
Along the surface of my little black table in the hall
And then holding it up for me to see, for my inspection
Revealed a big unsightly blob of dust, a most incriminating
smudge
She smiled a cute little reproachful smile
"It's true Baby", I said," I've been neglecting things of late, been
letting things slip
Ever since I met you, I've been so preoccupied
Been so preoccupied with thoughts of you
You're always in my head Girl, your... your great beauty, your...your
incredible loveliness
You've been driving me to Distraction Baby
And Hey! I like the view from down there, it's great! "
I had her sit down in my front room, she hadn't been sitting
long
When she pointed at the floor, at my carpet
"You know you've got a hole there in your carpet, a big hole"
And "Look!" she said pointing further down the room
"There's another one over there... and another!"
"What can I say Babe", I said, "you know you have me half
demented
Every night you got me pacing up and down, back and forth
You're this beautiful obsession to me Darling
You got me walking the floor over you Baby
Been thinking about you so hard, and so often
Now I plum gone and worn out my bleedin' carpet
Worn it out with all my walking".
At this she smiled a lovely kind sympathetic smile.
When I came back in the room with the tea
She said to me, she said "You know over in your corner there
Did you know you got a big cobweb and a spider ?"
"Oh! I said.....Oh Her! So you met my Spider
She's not just any old Spider you know
She... she's my... my Love Spider" I said proudly.
"Your Love Spider", she said a bit skeptically,
"Yea! I never had the heart to take her down
Why! She reminds me so much of you Darling
Reminds me of how awesome your powers are
And how futile it is to resist,
Reminds me of how wonderfully caught up I am
In your lovely sweet sticky web
Of gooey gorgeousness and outrageous delights.
With this she looked at me long and hard
Until suddenly there broke upon her lips this lovely enchanting smile,
"You know", she said,"you're so adorable you are, how I love you so".
P.S. "Phew!" I thought to myself,"that was a close one".
Jun 20, 2020
Jun 20, 2020 at 9:02 AM UTC
You might have seen them through the window,
a little girl pouting on the stool and her mother
behind her, deft fingers weaving the strands
together, chocolate hair in french braids and the
wrinkles in her blue gingham dress.
There is a beginning to everything.
Golden-hair boy, caramel colors glinting in the sun,
pieces that flopped over his eyes and plastered
themselves over his forehead when the wind blew
erratic. He wears t-shirts streaked with dirt and high-
water jeans half-rolled, half-bunched up to his knees.
She thought, I could love this boy.
They're in the field again, ankles itching under her
frilly socks and ants crawling over her shoes. He lets
one amble around on his finger while she studies him.
Holding it up to the light, all serious and squinting,
He whispers, "They are so small."
She remembers this field for a long time.
She points to his heart. This is where I live. He looks
at her skeptically, raises an eyebrow."Is it awfully
uncomfortable there?" She lets the silence grow while
the birds make conversation and smiles to herself when
she sees him listening too.
Sometimes it is cold, but then you remember me.
There are pieces of love scattered around this world.
I have been trying to find them, trying to arrange them
into a comprehensible hope. There's the field. There's the
beach. There's the little stream that carries us where we
need to go. There's you, in that one summer.
It's been so long, but I remember. I remember it perfectly.
She's making a daisy chain while he looks out over the
lake. *Climb the tree for me. I want to see how high you
can go.* Nearly breaking the branches with his weight, he
calls out, in the purest joy you've ever heard to this day.
"You should see this view!"
I do.
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 1:22 PM UTC
I was at a friend's pool after school.
She loaned me this impossibly tiny bathing suit.
I looked at it skeptically but I didn’t ask whose it was.
It smelled faintly of chlorine.
We were supposed to be alone.
Her older brother came home.
His eyes settled on my skin,
like a wash of immediate sunburn.
It was awkward and thrilling to be watched.
I pretended not to notice,
behind my sunglasses,
I ignored him.
My friend noticed. “Perv alert, let’s go in.” she said.
I didn’t want to go but I didn’t let it show.
Jan 5, 2022
Jan 5, 2022 at 6:05 AM UTC
Daisy (12:57 AM): Please please please...
Daisy (1:02 AM): I was laying down earlier, and without asking me any sort of permission, the image of Nathan with some other girl in his arms, in his room, laughing smiling, the whole idea came vividly to mind, and it crushed. It felt like someone stood on my chest and stomped. My computer was making aim noises and I didn't want to talk to anyone, I got up anyway. Now it's later, and I've shoved the thought from my mind. Now I'm alone, everyone's gone to sleep, my hair is clean, I'm alone. Damien Rice's voice pours out my speaker and my eyes overflow. I guess once I finally thought I was really really over him, it had to come back and hit me in the face. I'm so sick of sounding so stupid. It doesn't even make sense,
Daisy (1:03 AM): I shouldn't be tied to him after everything. My soul is crushed.
Daisy (1:06 AM): Sobs reach up my throat and sneak out of my mouth, filling the air, thick with sorrow, like fog. Like cigarette smoke, like smog, from thousands of cars. Why is it that i have to suffer like this for one who left me so abruptly. "I still think about you every day that passes." He said to me, and i probably believed it. He doesn't know, and thinks everything I say is some stupid dream, he answers me skeptically and full of scorn. I could scream, with my back arched in pain. Let all I ever had to say come out of me in one fluid motion.
Daisy (1:11 AM): These are answers I'll never get. Learn to live like your very own bone marrow has been stripped from you. Week and empty.
Jul 22, 2010
Jul 22, 2010 at 12:13 AM UTC
Chasing you is like racing the speed of light
I am left in the darkness never able to keep up sprightly
Leaving me fighting for air while my lungs erupt painfully
Gasping for breath spewing the words enough is enough skeptically
Accepting the fact I can't capture your love
The pain pierces my back in the night with the realization
that things between us have come and gone
It all seems like vivid imagery of my own imaginary creation
Of everything I dreamed you to be hoping to fill the void left by my last devastation
I want to be held with a firm grip and devotion
I need a connection with a depth deeper than the ocean
A romance so hopeless it leaves others disgusted or in admiration
Was it all a dream built upon no foundation
or did you find yourself lost too in moments of infatuation?
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 9:37 AM UTC
for some reason,
I was friends with
this character from
the movie Trainspotting..
everyone in the movie
just calls him Rude Boy.
He's super white with
bleached blonde hair.
Anyways, he was at my
house and placing this
weird substance that
came in little capsules
with a skull and cross
-bones on it, right on
top of my closed laptop.
It started bubbling and
burning like some weird
industrial acidy substance,
and when I asked Rude
Boy what it was, he told
me it was a substance
called 'Ghost' that was
a mix of *** and ******
He snorted that bubbling
acid into his nose with a
straw and then said, "oh
Ghost, how cool you can
make me!" and my mom
walked in rather skeptically
to watch, it was a strange
dream.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 12:35 PM UTC
You once had a blossoming rosebush.
Lush with periwinkle peonies, baby blue baby's-breath, crimson carnations.
You plucked a flower for me, a rose so beautifully breathtaking which you compared to my own flawed features in the most poetic prose.
I graciously accepted your gorgeous gift, careful that my fingers wouldn't graze the thorns which adorned the deep green stem.
I held it close, embracing your token of affection with a pounding heart full of humbly hesitant adoration.
But I picked apart the pieces, I skeptically played with the pretty petals. I analyzed their cajoling strokes of coaxing color until the flower wilted warily.
And when I asked you for another, your face flushed and your truth trembled.
You led me to your rosebush, which was now an utterly dull disappointment.
For I saw then that you had wasted away all of the flowers on girls just like me, destroying the beauty which had once flourished in that tempting rosebush, and now you had no more love to give me.
Jul 15, 2020
Jul 15, 2020 at 3:01 PM UTC
You were right there. Standing,
hands in your pockets, like nothing could hurt you.
Defiance palpable in the air you breathed.
Your back straight and your eyes so skeptically open
that if I didn’t look closely, I’d swear they were closed.
You were so close. Leaning,
skin warm with stories, close enough to leave me trembling in your wake.
Rebellion rocked in the earth around you.
Smoky breath and chewed-raw lips, and your
smile could never quite meet your eyes.
You were so tired. Listening,
mind open and walls up, always listening for pretty words.
Confidence almost shaking now in your bones.
A head full of curls, and a mouth full of codes
trapped so solidly as to not tarnish your tongue.
You were so alone. Talking,
people constantly surround you, about stories you never want to forget.
Rich, devilish words seasoned in your descriptions.
Your voice stimulates my mind’s starving curiosity, and
your hands could carry me home.
You were so lost. Running,
middle fingers locked in place, toward everything that scared you.
A bark of contempt for anyone in sight.
Always the question of: Could you say you used to make love
when love was not used to make you?
You were so broken. Tearing,
with wings of gold, through the waste of the human life.
A force so unstoppable it weakened my heart.
Your soul was on fire, and in the midst of the flames,
I saw you. You were never meant for here.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 1:26 PM UTC
the one they are and the one they want to be
well this is me, fighting duality, making an attempt to wholly be free
i can tell you assuredly - i'm not scared, admittedly
*i have no idea what it is that I'm doing
i don't understand what it is that I'm pursuing*
if such is life I willingly, shall spend my days accordingly
i'll not expect too much you see, only take what comes to me
i'll keep it close within my reach, hide from those who steal to be
one of me grasps easily, the other let's go skeptically
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 3:31 PM UTC
her face turns to stone
as she comes face to face with her fear
eye to eye with her past
and she wonders as she is running away
you were supposed to be here to save her from
having to acknowledge she's just as
weak and vulnerable as any human being
she would pay big bucks
to have her face erased
to have her name steam cleaned
but you got to have solid ground
to stand on for that kind of silliness
and seems like she has only time
to sit and stare with open lust
for the guy at the carnival
with the funny oversized shoes
and clown outfit on
please call me tonight
she confides in him
that she would marry a real man like him.
given half a chance
he yawns and looks skeptically at her
********* the handle on his pearl revolver
one of these he's gonna shoot off his mouth
then they'll listen
half dancing
half shufflin he moves into the room
hoping that of he looks suave
now the time has gone by
and they have done little with many things
heads full of snow
his clown suit folded up and put away
her makeup neatly put on backwards
both standing hand in hand
in the doorway
of the last train
before the 'pocky-clipse
fore it all got blown to hell and gone
the door handle turned
the stage set and the actors rehearsed
everything primed and just the waiting
that pause before the plunge
that backwards glance
to say you'll never be here again
to think on regrets and fear
the consequences of what we do here
and then you take that step
take the plunge
and up off the floor you gotta come
after its all blown to hell and gone
after the whole ***** little
empire of her lies has collapsed
fore it all got blown to hell
and gone in the 'pocky-clipse
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 2:14 AM UTC
It's difficult to see anything without
Watching how specifically light dances
Which way the clouds are moving
Voices tepid, brushes on canvas
Noticing the severity in a word
Underlying meaning in unkempt rooms
Bones, steel, fragments of sentences,
The blood-red rose in bloom.
Lyrics the cells wasting in my skull
Personification the melody in my veins
Clawing at meaning in a meaningless world
Skeptically observing unadulterated pain
Ripping apart the flesh of grammar
Feasting on the perhaps and what ifs
Strolling down the graveyards of potentiality
Heart whirring through malleable to stiff
This is a poet's mind,
Scattered as the winds reverse
Beautiful and dark as the new moon
Scarred, beaten and perverse:
A blessing assuredly, albeit a curse.
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 10:45 AM UTC
Rent paid, toying with dewey decimals. Expense made, avoiding the forced confessional.
Skimmed milk, drunk up from a skinned *** begged for in a time of need. Curdled for cheap cheese, worked over by skilled feet, reneged for the sake of greed.
Licking spit skeptically off a boot-wiped floor for the worth of a dime. Picking grit hectically in a moot-like chore, covered in grime.
Flick’n flash beat against the permeable door, social media made aware that you’re poor.
Moth and flame play the poor man’s vice, retreat handed out for a bag of rice. Told to go and play nice, life revoked if mistaken just thrice.
Livelihood donated through public tax, all to afford a home infested by rats. Hospital trips noted by fat-cats, looking to assimilate this case with their stats.
Infection corrodes every ****** cut. Distinction acknowledges a momentary rut.
Rent paid, thanks to forced confessional. Expense made, up-scale digs coined on a dime termed parental.
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 3:26 AM UTC
I can't believe you are here now,
Reading my verses.
You, Writer, who looks skeptically at anything
Which doesn't come from you.
You, Writer, who can appreciate only the words
That come from your own pen
Or from the pen of the dead.
While you adore corpses
Your brothers and sisters
Stay here
Unreaded,
Despised
For you
And for me,
Because I am not better than you.
But maybe together
We can be better
And give to ours friends
More than merely "likes"
In theirs shortest verses,
Because is what our lazyness
Allowed is to read.
Maybe together we can strength
Our verses
Our hearts
And-hour by hour-
All the world.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 12:30 AM UTC
I had gotten use to being lonely
He was like I god I couldn't feel or see
Lost between the lines of doctrines never meant to be understood but only for people to pretend to read
I felt my heart get heavy like a water balloon
Get set
Get ready
I'll be lighter than your empty hands soon
He said marry me
I smiled skeptically
He ran down the staircase
He moved me across states
We woke up early in the morning
He promised me all of himself and all the love we would make
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 5:33 AM UTC
Truth
For many months
He listened to her
Sad stories, mistakes she made
He took the time to care
And offer his shoulder
His hand.
She reached for it skeptically
But grabbed it none the less
She locked eyes with him
Smiled and said..
I love you I really do
Not just as a friend but more..
Then months and months go by
Then years and years pass too
A decade before he knew it..
Being too nice is how he blew it
Time can't heal all wounds.
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 5:15 PM UTC
she entered the dimly light room in the dull apartment skeptically.
dreary wall paper surrounded her, though it was even more damp and dingy than that of what she had been expecting.
she dropped her ***** bag to the floor, darkened to a horrid brownish color.
and she wished with all her being she could return home and away from this undesirable den within her dream.
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 7:44 PM UTC
what if the sun is too ashamed to rise in the morning?
will the world then understand the darkness which circulates within my mind?
maybe if gravity gave up on me
then i would float freely among the skies,
discovering the mystery which tomorrow holds in a bird's eye view
because i spend most of my days
skeptically trying to find comfort in the idea of being "okay"
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 6:28 AM UTC
My body had withered in pain
Heart's totally becoming fragile.
Thoughts of you make me insane
Your pseudo kisses made me ill.
I desired for nothing but you
Hence, your eyes are pretentious.
I assumed you were never true
That your stare was truly devious.
Whenever I ask you about something
Your mouth is speaking skeptically.
Your words mean nothing
And you're pretending, undoubtedly.
I wanted to divulge the unfaithfulness
That runs through your soul.
Forsooth, I won't be restless
Being despaired was my only role.
Distance me from this nightmare
And let me be alone for tonight.
This agony I can no longer bear
Falling for an enemy was never right.
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 1:38 PM UTC
"To the moon, just through the sun",
he said "I dare you- come and find me".
I can't, my love, that's much too far,
besides- the sun would blind me.
"Oh, my dear, you've much to learn-
but why not humor you?
Oh, my darling, just find the fern,
it will help you through."
And if I do not find this fern? I said, skeptically.
And if I cannot find this fern, can I ever find thee?
"Of course you'll find me, beautiful darling
Of course you can find me, dear.
You want to run away from this,
you want to run from here.
I can help you out with that,
you can come with me,
To the moon, just through the sun, my dear
That's where I'll be."
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 5:03 PM UTC
No faintest ray of light
Shines in
Or finds it can
Divine a grin
Above my chin
As darkness seeps into my skin
Wherein the fading joy persists
To fein another day amidst
So many glances skeptically
And questioningly scowering me
Or some don’t seem to care I’m here
Don’t meet my eyes, nor dare I there’s
A stranger in some stranger land
And every night the rains again
Crash down upon this muddy shack
Until my dreams all fade to black
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 12:47 PM UTC
Can you make a friend— like a craft project?
I know, I hear this parental voice, “just be yourself.”
All of my classes this semester will be in one building, but I’m a control freak, I wanted to walk my schedule, go class to class, like I will on my first day. I have a locker too—this is so high school—but I wanted to find it, try the combination and plan what I’ll carry. I have questions too, like how’s the wi-fi, are there charging outlets, and where can I get coffee?
Orientation is Tuesday—but who can wait until Tuesday? Classes start Wednesday. I’d never sleep this weekend with so many questions. I’m already having dreams where I’m lost, late and embarrassed.
So there I was, this morning, dressed for class with my green messenger bag—doing it—schedule in hand. I went into a small auditorium with cushioned, crimson, theater seating—where my first class will be—and there’s this other girl, dressed for class, schedule in hand.
We were like twins, except she’s tall and black and I’m not. Right off she commanded me, handing me her phone, no preamble, no “How do you do,” to “Take my picture.”
Of course, I obeyed, I’m not from outer space. I burst 50 quick frames, as she slightly varied her pose and she did likewise for me.
Her name is Chella and she graduated from Yale last week too, with a ‘Bachelor of Science in Global Affairs.’ I think I saw her on campus once or twice but our paths had never directly crossed.
“But IS "Global Affairs" a science degree?” I asked skeptically.
“Probably not,” she answered, “but some of us can live with ambiguity.”
Her first direct, commanding phrase limns her personality perfectly.
Yeah, we hit it right off.
.
.
Songs for this:
Cruel To Be Kind by Letters to Cleo
Perfect Day by Povo
Are You Trying to Be Funny? by Everything But the Girl
May 24, 2025
May 24, 2025 at 10:24 PM UTC
Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.
We all have experienced things in life that have given us a sort of thick skin, or as some may say pain that has caused up to "put up a guard". Protecting ourselves is just part of our human nature, naturally no one wants to be hurt, and when we realize the things that hurt us we tend to stay away from them, or if we do go around the things that have made us hurt before, we go around them skeptically, sometimes with the intent to cause those things the pain that they may have caused us.
Our natural human instincts of survival may be correlated with the way treat our relationships. Since many of us have been hurt, some of us go about relationships skeptically, and with the intentions of hurting someone before they may have a chance of hurting us. It is important to remember that keeping a guard is fine, but to also trust your heart. Remember that the world is still a beautiful place and there are still nice people in it, sometimes you just have to take a chance.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 4:53 AM UTC