"snowballing" poems
came to visit me again last night
seeping in when i was half asleep
embracing me from the inside
keeping me awake in his presence
he's not a friend
nor a foe
we solely co-exist
then i should probably get accustomed to his presence
regardless how queasy and uneasy he makes me feel
how he makes i small
probably he cares about me
i just need to
stop
him
***********
Stop.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC
Speak,
as if you know what you are saying.
Let it roll off the tongue,
*********** like a Dung-beetle's ****
and let me drink it up like a lapdog.
It tastes like heaven from where I sit,
not by comparison,
but lack of.
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
Prosecco cocktails, être pour la danse,
cassis pour moi avec limoncello,
madame, passion fruit, and blood oranges
très grownup, breakfast at Tiffany's,
she is all sunglasses and Audreyfied,
me and George P., struggling writers,
checking if i got enough cash
or have to exit smooth, just in case,
maybe we leave our
coats behind, as ransom?
lincoln center plaza cross-dressers,
past the opera,
the sun, a balmy thirty five degrees,
laughing at us teasingly,
cause tonight and tomorrow,
*********** all the day,
winter kisses
in case we forgot,
early March
first belongs to the Ides of Winter
Afternoon of a Faun,
another ballet, origin,
a Mallarmé poem.
(you begin to comprehend)
yes quite so,
a perfect synopsis of the day,
Acheron imported from Scarlett Liam
who lives in the U.K.,
but comes to choreograph here,
for gloria Americana
sundown, soul cold back,
"lest we forget,"
but the dancers bid us adieu
with a rousing waltz, frenchified,
La Valse, une poème chorégraphique,
by Ravel, bien sûr!
aroused and heart gladdened,
return home for
for veal chop love
two hours of *** banging,
kitchen banishment, (Yay!)
chanterelles steeped in red wine,
coverlet for a non-vegan tasting,
English peas, red and purple potatoes,
and for desert,
a diet dream of verbal exchanged of detailed
I love you's
He: I love you,
She (happy), replies: I love you more.
(this repartee ballet, has been rehearsal danced before)
He: Why?
She: Because you are kind and generous, to street beggars, my single friends, good and smart, love art,
and never let me down, and love my cooking, leave space for others when you park, go thru life making waiters and ticket takers smile and laugh, sleep for hours your head on my hip, write me crazy love poems about veal chops
He: What's for desert tonight?
She: A ****
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
Instinct becomes arbitrary when my willpower deters my integrity
Aspirations are mere illusion when my intuition exceeds my ailing grasp
A *********** creep of disintegrating fantasies releases
a
sense
of realism.
Nicotine surfs my limbs
as thoughts align with tectonic disasters.
Malice masks insinuating balance,
An inevitable roar of discontent prefaces
A cruising tune of initiated indifference
yet hope
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 2:21 AM UTC
Sorry you're a worn out bigot.
I Guess I'll see you when I'm six feet under
or six states South.
We can pretend we're family then
=] .
There are two things I will never comprehend.
1. Why people have to have a bewildered reaction upon finding out someone in their life is gay.
Gay people exist and we're not urban legends.
2. Why people feel the need to call gay guys ******* we know what we are. If you're going to make a quick jab at me, tell me something I don't already know. *******
Ignorance, fear, hatred and differences are what's ******* up the world.
You can say that everything is fine and that it's just a phase I'm in or even on a larger scale you can say that the blatantly ignored *********** hatred doesn't exist.
**** Excuses don't explain anything. I know you have trouble sleeping at night, if I was evil, I would have the same problem.
I use to write for my high school newspaper, but after one year, I got kicked off for writing editorials like this.
Mar 15, 2012
Mar 15, 2012 at 7:53 PM UTC
He plays among the stars,
Throwing space dust in my eyes,
*********** in orbit,
A spaceman,
My love.
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 8:57 PM UTC
I often have conversations
With objects around me -
From
Mindless banter *********** into
Heart-to-heart conversations,
To
Waking up in the middle of the night,
Fumbling for the right switch in the darkness
To put the lights on so I can see
For a split second,
Things obligingly lying still in their place,
As they stagger through burdened time
To lull myself into sleep
With an assurance of familiarity.
On days I enter my room
With bottled thoughts, when these things,
With all their weathered, withered strength
Spur me on to etch out utterances at length
Knowing as they do,
You don't always seek
A response, reaction, remark, judgment,
To something you nevertheless feel the need to speak,
Which at times starts to turn incomprehensible
To yourself and to the other,
As your tongue rolls them out
In the gibberish of vowels and consonants.
So I start off on a mindless rhyme
At times confessing my mind's crimes,
Scraping out fears rusty with neglect
Pulling out halted thoughts from a staggering stack,
Laughing as I admit to myself that joke was funny.
Crying with relish for I won't be accused of being weak.
Stretching out a tune I'd only ventured to hum [in public],
Into a song, hearing my voice sing & strum,
In a long time.
[Hitting the table with a pen
To make up for the beats.]
Dancing with awkward steps on my two left feet,
But dancing nevertheless.
[Thank goodness I have feet to dance.)
P.S At times, when the familiarity
Of my own presence poses a threat,
I need their company, these non-living things,
The only solace sensitive to my minds' mutterings.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
Silent settling spurred
Conscious contrails of
Rebellion--
Subtle synergistically-imbued incarnations
Of space and time
Humming deeply clefted vibrations
In the company of conglomerating waves
Crescendos gathering
Sounds unspeakable
*********** down self-carved channels
Recycling
Into
the
Source
--The Great Echo--
Reverberating through infinite probability
Casting shadows like statues in stone
Seen by strobe lights
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 2:51 AM UTC
the human body
has three hundred and fifty bones
when we are born
which fuse together
as we grow
to two hundred and six;
further simplifying
down to condensed calcium
and summated marrow,
growing our skeletons down
to simpler beings as we grow.
if only the human soul
was not the opposite;
*********** into
spreading stardust
particles so quickly that
we cannot put a simplified
finger on exactly who we are.
black & gold.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 7:05 PM UTC
She is my best friend because . . .
I immediately call her when I see something really funny happen in my daily life.
She is my best friend because . . .
Even though neither of us is particularly a fashion maven, I trust her implicitly when it comes to giving good style.
She is my best friend because . . .
I can’t even really remember how the two of us became friends, it just kind of started happening and *********** down a giant hill of love and care for her.
She is my best friend because . . .
We have a completely made up terms for mine and her people and very specific things.
She is my best friend because . . .
I basically expect her to be a more harsh version of Simon Cowell and put any of my dates through the judgy tests which prove her worthiness for the crown.
She is my best friend because . . .
Pretty much everything ever recommended to me by her in terms of entertainment has been a spot-on choice.
She is my best friend because . . .
The two of us have been to a concert together, it was amazing and we gossiped about the people in the crowd around her.
She is my best friend because . . .
I can always go back through my chat histories, text messages, and email exchanges to get a quick laugh or some reassurance that I am loved and understood by her.
She is my best friend because . . .
Sometimes I rediscover old inside jokes that I used to have with her and remember how hilarious and ridiculous they were all over again.
She is my best friend because . . .
Ultimate trust in her knows things that I have told literally no one else in the world.
She is my best friend because . . .
She is very understanding and little problems in day-to-day friendship do not affect the amount of trust and loyalty I have for her other overall.
She is my best friend because . . .
Every time I talk about her to someone who doesn’t know her yet, I gush a little bit.
She is my best friend because . . .
We help each other practice for job interviews and meeting, and are almost as nervous/excited about her getting hired as I do about your own job opportunities.
She is my best friend because . . .
The two of us pig out together and never worry about the other one judging my and her eating choices.
She is my best friend because . . .
My friendship makes me feel, in a lot of ways, much less scared about the future and the problems which might lie ahead of me . . . her . . . us . . . them.
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
im ***********
down
down
through a downward spiral
again
except this time
i dont give a ****
about what im becoming.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
The clock always shows 4:40.
Simple man rings out
High above thousands of
Twinkling lights; motorways scoring
Horizons.
Our time together is finite, the curtains drawn across fine grain wood -
Planks in three lengths -
The stage light sun extinguished.
Love to me is fame.
Placated rhythms atop vacant halls,
Four chambers capture
*********** phosphorus desire:
Compassion and feeling passed
Unlocked and bleeding.
I was once told, 'thinking does not mean feeling,' - but how can a feeling be interpreted in the absence of thought?
Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 3:19 PM UTC
I see myself headed to Nowhere, and fast.
I'll be *********** down South towards there real soon.
Forgetting all that I've known in the past,
to try something entirely new.
It's really very far from here, Nowhere,
near this high point where I've stood all my life.
Maybe I'll happen upon fortune and fame,
or spend the rest of my days in soul-stealing strife.
I don't know exactly the coordinates;
when I get there, I'll send you my address.
And I don't have a plan, a road, or a map,
but I feel in my heart exactly where it's at.
I know I'll find it, I'll send post cards along the way
as I wander hopefully towards
Nowhere in the US of A.
Aug 10, 2011
Aug 10, 2011 at 10:47 PM UTC
Let your mind flow.
Let the thoughts swirl.
Let your words come out of nowhere.
Out of nowhere.
But somewhere something happened.
No cliché figurative flickering fluorescent set you off, no slight nudge sent you *********** no, you've been lit on fire. You don’t know it, but you’re burning. But that flame is not the one nestled neatly in your grandmother's fireplace, nor the uniform petals licking up at underside of her tea kettle. It is a forest fire, raging and impatient, intent on turning over and devouring every leaf of your inspiration until you let it out. From far away it might appear to be merrily orange, but underneath it's blazing blue and white.
Maybe you can feel it. A burn like that would leave a mark.
Those stories that crackle from your tongue are going to tear this world down and replace it with one of their own. The energy they create is irresistible. It will consume you like old newspapers in an autumn bonfire.
Yes, it will consume you, just like the search for the perfect word. Remember? That tickling on the tip of your tongue that will not go away, not in hell, until you can name it. You’ll wrack your brain for hours, sometimes days, as though it were a cluttered attic and in the most hidden corner huddles your word, grinning impishly when you stumble upon it. That quest that devours your mind again and again is only the beginning, the end, the in-between, the pinpricks of color on your canvas that make up your painting, your masterpiece. And it will be a masterpiece. Your beginnings and your ends and your in-betweens will become a wonderful whole.
But, a warning. The window to your mind is not the lens that everyone will look through. Those whose opinions distort their sight will tell you your beginnings are simply weak scaffolding, your ends have loose threads that remain unsewn, and your in-betweens are only the unoriginal fluff of a muddled mind.
Their words, however, are only kindling for your fire.
Watch them burn.
They will learn to respect the writer.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 12:12 AM UTC
You're born,
you live,
you die.
Is there time to evolve?
Sometimes I sit cross-legged and I hum,
and I congregate with familiars to hymn,
and I congregate with warriors to gym,
and I smash keyboards to poeticize,
but it there time to evolve?
I will not let you substitute my evolution.
It is not some rabbit evolves from hat trick.
It is not some *********** nothing to something odd.
I don't know what it is, but you're not substituting it.
It's something weird.
I can go insane and wake up a god,
is that not evolution?
I can fall in love and become superman overnight,
is that not evolution?
I am the ka-me-ha-me-ha fusion of my parents!
I was,
once as worthless and aptly sized
as the penny under your bed,
but just you wait (you know what I mean)
I became big enough to rob you of common sense
and maybe your cents (yeah, about those pennies... can I sleep with you?)
I became big enough to hurl mountains across lakes (warning: stated objects are proportional to ants).
I became big enough to be the most insignificant speck on the earth, but I could nuke San Francisco and you'd see my handiwork from the moon,
is that not evolution?
Evolution is the survival of the fittest,
that's right,
every football player could be the next evolutionary link,
just wait until the end of the match,
you might be the first witness ;)
Tell me I'm not wrong!
If you say the opposite, you're a communist... (see what I did there?)
Is that not evolution?
What exactly are we passing through,
to get from where I am typing "a" to you saying, "Why'd he choose 'a'?"
from all across somewhere else where I am not?
Mouthful? Mouth full of what? Imagination?
Is that not evolution?
I don't know where I am sometimes,
and then I pull out a cellular doohickey,
and I command a machine 100 times my size
that's somewhere where there's no air or gravity
to tell me where I am. Sometimes I threaten it,
"I'll give you the AIDs equivalent of a computer virus you,
you... you pervert! Yeah, I know you know where I am every hour,
of every minute,
of every second,
so... there!"
You've got to give satellites the what-for sometimes.
IS THAT NOT EVOLUTION!!!
I don't know.
I guess you don't believe me...
Is that not devolution? (See what I did there?)
Okay, okay, I'm not impressing you with anything,
neither wordplay nor swordplay,
neither hiccup nor genius,
okay,
I'll leave you with this.
What did the signing ape say to the other signing ape?
Boom.
(Is that not evolution...)
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 9:36 AM UTC
I used to think comets were shooting stars falling. Til I grew to understand how our earth was *********** Oder out of chaos. The Masons are stonewalling. But the truth is your true calling. The worship of Cain has left us.
barely abael.
and crawling..
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 1:23 AM UTC
Government secrets undermine democracy
in the same way lies undermine honesty
by circumventing accountability
at the expense of truth and credibility.
As citizens we should have a say in decisions
which is impossible when they’re clandestine.
Proponents say that’s why we have a representative democracy
we choose who handles our secerets
which is fair enough I guess
but once the secrets start ***********
how are we supposed to know who should represent us
when we don’t even know what they’re doing?
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 11:13 AM UTC
It's hard to tell
If I should feel hatred towards anything
Should I start from the beginning?
Would that help?
Should I be mad towards my parents
For loving one another but apparently not enough?
There are infinite definitions of the emotion love
Who am I to judge their past intent?
Should I be mad towards myself
For halting the progress they both worked towards?
They would both tell me with conviction that those words
Are just bad for my mental health
Should I be mad towards the world
For *********** my life into where I am now?
My happiness has elevated past the highest cloud
My smile never curls downward
Should I be mad towards the past
For constantly occupying my entire thought process?
It never helps to dwell on mistakes and losses
Even if they pile up way too fast
Should I be mad towards the present
For shifting my actions without my permission?
I can't always see today as an inescapable prison
Though it's difficult to live in the moment
Should I be mad towards the future
For making me question and doubt everything?
People have died having that way of thinking
I will too if I continue, I'm sure
I feel the need to have hatred
Towards literally anything I can find
But my life's perfect in my own mind
Clearly, by what you've just read
So what was the point of this?
Probably to bring out my inner neautralness
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 3:22 AM UTC
may crosses the threshold;
still in place despite being shaken,
things dangling in a state of shock, matters frenzied.
all i could do is stare at its tail ends, its ides, its roots, fiendish.
time is a quicksand, it has taught.
the month’s chasm i find myself suspended in,
as only half and in a room hellish, four corners built precariously
pent up dread ***********
breathe in breathe out
may leaves,
a sigh of only minimum relief
Jun 3, 2022
Jun 3, 2022 at 10:19 PM UTC
Cut open by love, my heart's been bled dry
Said too many goodbyes, no tears left to cry
But you came along and suddenly I'm falling.
Couldn't stop those feelings from ***********
The way you control me, I must be crazy.
To love this pain, yeah, I'm going crazy.
Tried so hard to fight, but it was all a waste
Like a drug, it only takes one taste
Just one touch of sweetness, and now you own me.
Fill my head with dreams, but you're all I see.
The hope you give me, more proof I'm crazy.
Why do I see what's not there, unless I'm crazy?
While I wait to hear your voice and see your face
Thinking pain is better than the numbness it replaced
You shut me out with those walls of ice I dream of breaking.
Leaving me cold and alone, with hope to keep my heart aching.
To think we belong together, I know I'm crazy.
But I can't stop looking for a sign that I'm not crazy.
Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 9:50 PM UTC