"spiking" poems
Sigh,
I lie here
All is black
The white light
Yellow screen
Pink pillow
All is black
blood frozen
Heart rate spiking
Breath shallow
All is black
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
The Rain falls warm.
It's humid and the shirt
sticks to my w3tb@ck.
How much has fallen
into my collective bucket
during the pass hour
Of heavy monsoon rain?
I gulp chunks
to replace water
in this futile work cycle.
Adiabatic landscaping
in a stifling heat,
within some complex
feed-forward loop.
The cigarette burns
beneath a protective dome,
my cupped hand.
Particulates drift away into
the hazy mist, embedding
itself in breath,
and choking congested,
fluid-filled lungs.
I watch a tiny display
showing small spiking memes
feeding forward to what?
Will it be an apocalyptic
firing storm or a recognition
gestalt, inhibitory spikes
triggering attenuation.
I drink again the rain.
Can I supervise Win-Lose
games? Am I learning
some wrong algorithm
while drunk on heavy water,
in Futile cycles?
With my open hand
I take Virgil's lead
into our Gradient descent,
urging him on, afraid
our alpha steps are too
small, and the time too
short. There is a constant
fear of being trapped
in some eternal,
local minimal.
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 11:34 AM UTC
Adam touches down
in heaven upon the high.
But his highwater mark
wasn’t solely one way.
He could hear the jingle
upon the high resonates
beneath the ground!
He could see the cloud
forms on the top
and rains down to the ground.
Bow down on the earth
and rise high.
Lo, the golden spiral too,
curves downward
before spiking high up.
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 9:02 AM UTC
no count-downs for birthday parties
no arm wrestles, no jump shots
no go-cart donuts
not even a snowball
where did we go?
blond hair
up to my shoulders
surrounded by jewels
some empty-paned picture frame
couple sprouts beneath a pine
saying "monkeys" for Grammy's kodak
red clay on your feet
pink frosting in your teeth
me, sheathed in my favorite shirt
"I'm the big sister!"
with a butterfly depicting
what I've yet to become
how wrong have we gone?
well, I'll be twenty
once spring rolls around
and brother
you're not far behind
I can't tell time
to change its mind
but I promise you
it won't be changing mine
from the photographs, scrapbooks
I'll forever feel your laughter
just like goosebumps
the brail I'm reading into
let's gaze past glares
straight through white sunbeams
spiking your brown eyes
twice as deep as mine
the truest shades
on the face of the earth
to this very
foggy day
this mirror, this moment snagged
before shutters snap
and capture us, splatter us
on matte paper, or cell screens
with brown hair
up to your shoulders
way to go, little brother
but I'm still keeping that tee
because the only thing
I've always been proud to be
is your big sister
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 10:14 PM UTC
again and again
the morning comes undone
and we march -
stuff-lunged into crunch
and mule love
blunder-bused and lump-kin
but for always
a short ton
of long grief
tweaking the snip
of a dead sow's ear
to reap a jewel
from a dead
mind.
but here
i love you like a war in Spain
spiking the Punch and Judy/
a fugue grief on a tide of dark joy
slavering at the haunches
of a Pegasus.
Blindfolded.
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 4:15 AM UTC
Prose is writing that goes right across the page. It rolls on, sentence after sentence, usually about things mundane.
But Verse is where you yourself
Decide the length of
Line.
Or stanza indeed. Some call lines “verses”. They can be very long.
Or short.
Iambic metre may be used
And other metres too.
You can write anapaests if you wish.
Yet Poetry is neither prose nor verse
As such.
It is about skyscraper forests looming large,
Trees spiking though mysterious mists.
Poetry is sunshine, filling your heart
With radiant joy.
Black nights of deep depression
Give way to a golden dawn.
The lonely
Find Love.
That’s Poetry.
Paul Butters
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 11:22 AM UTC
Luscious swirl colors
Sunlight reflecting off of
Rainbow jeweled depths
White cotton absorbs the laughter
In banded, restricted patterns
Blue lazy afternoon
Pink sugar candy
Green that's not so easy
Indigo spot light shining
Mimosa bubbles fizz with comedic intent
Juicy honey bells spiking my taste buds
I soak you up, great God of life
In turn creating sacred geometric love
On simple fibers
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 10:32 AM UTC
My rages
Tearing pages
Going Cray
Ripping pages
My flow
Changing phases
Amazes
On stages
Front row
Front pages
Your rapping, verbally attacking
Any Enemy slacking
Riff Raff'em
Taking charge
Like a captain
Ice challenge
Chilling living lavish
Way Above average
About to fix me a samwich
Let us with cabbage
Went H.A.M.
Over some beef
Got bread
Hand some cheese
Hate spam
Love trees
Cool breeze
In Belize
Blowing Lush Kush
In blush trees
Across seas
They love me
See a tree huggers bush
Land and strip; No leaves
I'm cooler than an oldies, in his ******
Eating Coco puffs watching ice-t
In a wife-tee, drinking iced ice-t.
Spiking spike, while playing Exite Bike on an old PC
Laughing so hard
I *** ***
I wish you
Could see me
On HD with an HD
With At&T;
Getting my P.H.D.
Figure it out
Too late
Quarter past three
Then they
Passed me
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
The pebbles of your core
shine in ruminated scores
like a sorcerer spiking more
unlisting storms and ores
Smile dear rock, from a mile
touch the source of love ice
melt those gorgeous pure eyes
to the specks of the shiny shores
The rocky waves smell of testicles
Vestibules and alleyways of fertility
sung by Cronus as he holds a knife
eager to mutilate from a skyview
The sandy waters sink in Gaia hymns
as the scythe shed the slices of foams
where scattered sperms stays awash
to wish swimmers an eternal beauty
Ohh sacred gods on the aphrodite hills
Spread love unseen, unknown,unheard
stain the precedent of the flowing wind
give me the hint, a seat on the sainted scent
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 2:40 PM UTC
i meander at the
depths of rock bottom stumbling
upon newfound grace and
gratitude.
the spiking stone all around
is dull to the eyes but makes
the ever-blue sky
come alive.
when i reach up to
touch it, i know that
i am too small to caress
those faint cotton candy
wisps.
but in my dreams,
i greet the sunrise by
perching on the shoulders
of those who dare to rise
above.
Apr 21, 2024
Apr 21, 2024 at 4:06 PM UTC
running away
strengthens my legs.
and so does planting
my feet firmly on the ground
after a fresh lie—
trade the volleyball practice
for physics textbooks
and i grow exponentially
happier.
grow exponentially freer,
i guess somewhere along the line
i decided
i preferred calculations
To spiking *****
is all
really, i guess the court
instilled in me a queer
fear, that of
bears clawing shut a cage,
i prisoner, appeaser,
so I played.
but the longer I stayed
The more i prayed,
prayers of numbers,
velocities, angles,
and realized that
maybe the running
was more a way to measure
my footsteps
than to play less
a game.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 8:47 AM UTC
Coffee meats my weariness in
All-out open battle
Plays at swords with drowsy dreams
Preying on fatigue
Under foamy life traps
Caffeine lurks ahead
Closing in on oblivious bliss
It pulls me back to consciousness
Now my only hope for sleep is
On spiking my cappuccino
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 12:22 PM UTC
She is a mystery,
A mystery that no one has been able to solve.
There is no telling what happens when her eyes distant itself from the world, looking and longing for something deep within her thoughts.
When her deadly silence creeps over her, leaving everyone far away from her wrath.
When she finds herself alone, blocking and pushing anyone trying to get in.
When she bottles up her emotions, leading everyone to think of something far away from what is genuinely happening.
When she strides past those who oppose her way, acting with no care in the world.
When she abruptly smiles that brightening smile of hers, and laughs that fascinating laugh, causing everyone to wonder what's going on behind her display.
When her style doesn't suite anyones, unique and different from the rest.
When she is understanding of anyones situation, curiosity spiking in everyone as to how she apprehends.
And when silence and stares occur every room she shows up in.
Everyone looks to her, baffled about this young creature.
Everyone asks her, yet no reply is answered.
She gives out the littlest emotions and information, yet only that tiny grain of salt intrigues and bewilders everyone.
Everyone knows of her, they just do not know who she really is.
And as I said before...
She is a mystery,
A mystery that no one has been able to solve.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 10:38 PM UTC
eyes as dark as midnight;
staring ahead, soulless.
unravelling a puzzling sight,
sparkless.
but those eyes
were the pair that made me vulnerable
as the walls around me say their byes;
emotions crashing down on me, unbearable.
salty water making my eyes moist
as I peered at those eyes;
clearing out the foggy mist,
diminishing the lies.
my heart cracking,
my sadness spiking.
and i thought to myself,
such mesmerizing eyes.
Oct 31, 2024
Oct 31, 2024 at 8:05 AM UTC
My blank eyes stare
In bold frustration
At the white sheet
Sitting, calmly mocking me
On the plain brown table
The pen quivers in hand
My mussels shake with shame
But try as I might
My ideas are insanely sane
No bursting fits of passion
Or inspiring metaphors
Only a page covered in splatters
From my ink of internal wars
A block of metal in my mind
A chain of iron on my hand
Glossy mirrors on my eyes
Spiking needles in my thighs
Calling for me to get up
To leave this terrible attempt
But when a poets mind is blank
Like mine
About blankness will they find a rhyme
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 1:29 AM UTC
The corner street awaits with pride
Raise the palm and wave me hello
As the eyes melt reveal your heart
The smile is the manipulating trap
A stance you gaze magnifies my life
Stay in the zone oozing not snoozing
Disengaged in bases of sinking shells
Float on the wavy stretchy topography
Claim my proponent inside the rigid iris
The splash of the canvas sprays attraction
Alternate the kaleidoscope fluid flashes
A slash, smashing my scepticism cynism
Untitled spiking depths and radiant flames
Erode past the sizzling chargrilled grins
It's in my eyes, my very soul sits and shines
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 12:26 PM UTC
summer has burned up,
blown past, the thermometer
sinks stone-like, its silvers
dulled in metal tombs
no longer spiking red.
the wet leaf hangs lower
on the twig, the bird balances
on the branch, the day
fragments, its grey clouds
flowing under swiftly
closed doors.
Aug 15, 2019
Aug 15, 2019 at 2:56 PM UTC
He loved her more than he ever had.
More than morning coffee, or the Sun at midday, or the first inhale of a new pack of cigarettes.
She couldn't help but hate him.
Couldn't stop from spiking her words with poison,
Laying him down on a bed laced with daggers,
Hiding snakes in his closet, and scorpions in his shoes.
They were the perfect couple,
And oh how he loved her!
And the pancakes she made him,
Of shards of glass,
Her own blood spilled into the batter
And her new perfume of Carbon Monoxide,
She pulled him in close,
"Breathe deeply dear, deeply"
And the way he was never quite sure
his car brakes would still be functional in the morning.
She made "Wanted" posters with his face,
"Dead" they read, neglecting "or alive."
He picked out the tiny blue pills from his muesli,
The circular ones from his sandwich,
Larger ovals squished between a slice of cheese and it's *******
and he smiled at the notion
that she'd been thinking of him
when she put them there.
She'd set fire to the bed in which he slept,
And leave the gas oven turned on, door wide open.
Put him on a diet,
How long can one last without food?
Without water?
Without air?
Infatuated with each other,
And vain attempts at love and death.
They were perfect.
And she knew,
in all her sadness,
that with the ending of his life,
Hers was sure to follow.
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 4:03 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
My mother told me
Stay away
She'd make sure of it
I had to bootleg you
For my personal alcoholism
I couldn't imagine a life
Without you rushing
Spiking my blood
But you took that bottle
And smashed it on the counter
You didn't have to stick it
Through my lungs
For me to stop breathing
I sweat at night
Screaming your name
My hands shaking
The withdrawals kicking in
I chugged down the
Medication they gave me
To stop it from hurting
But it never did
And it became a cycle
Pill
Whiskey
Pill
Whiskey
Pill
Until the pain was
Gone.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 1:27 AM UTC
Like the *** you transferred
into calcareous soil, not knowing
it would turn the leaves yellow
as they rot.
Under a winter sun
I gave too much
or not enough,
the dirt arid then wet through,
half a glass of stale water
remaining below the roots.
The dark green, the larger ones fell first,
turned yellow on their edges
or from their ribs,
their stems browning until they failed,
to carry the weight,
to nourish the foliage.
The smaller leaves rolled on themselves,
day by day sagging a little more,
light green and brittle,
crumbling.
I moved the plant,
and moved it again,
by the window for some sun,
but with the cold seeping through!
You provided the chemicals,
I moved the plant again,
aware by now that I might be too late
and it may not recover,
not when the sun warms the earth anew,
not when the world rights itself once more.
Though - if the rot has not taken hold
yet of the roots
or of the branches,
and if our balms are enough to save
the trunk with the future stems,
we may once again
see spiking curls grow
and darkening green leaves unfold,
wondrous flowers bloom,
red flamingos standing tall.
Mar 2, 2021
Mar 2, 2021 at 4:42 AM UTC
What is anxiety?
Anxiety is waking up in the middle of the night
Heart pounding
And senses spiking
Anxiety is walking out onto a cold balcony and staring down at a street full of taxi cabs,
And thinking,
"Should I jump...?"
Anxiety is full body shaking
And mind convulsing
While you're sitting completely still
Anxiety is standing in a full room
And feeling completely alone
And enclosed by an invisible box
Anxiety is the voice rising torture that fills your vocal cords and chokes you until you can't breath, and you're grasping at your lungs, trying to fill them with the air you can't seem to get
Anxiety is gasping, and gasping, and gasping
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 8:19 AM UTC
Your hypocritical mind is un-ignorable
I’m below it holding light towards it
I don’t want it growing or rainbow-ing out of your body
Find it please, its making me cringe
Be rid of it
Don’t look down on others
Or bellow their flaws
Laughing at them won’t reattach your lost pride
Doing as they did to you will not conquer
Fight your ever oozing, flowing, growing sickening **** of forgets
Remember things you say
Don’t mock or pout at others who say the same things
Think of how you shouldn’t do as inferiors do
But do not highlight your superior-ism
Not that you even are
And you’re blind of the fact you’re conceited
You would only deny it if told
Your immaturity is spiking up through my back
And cutting me—slicing me open
But I don’t want the blood to drip in your eyes
I don’t want you to realize through the liquid of mine
But realize through somebody else
I can’t break it to you
The ice you’ve frozen is too thick for me to melt
And you need to crack it yourself
Feb 25, 2011
Feb 25, 2011 at 10:31 AM UTC
home decorating magazines say, avoid blue walls
instead, opt for yellow, sunshine, cheery
my mood matches the walls here
blue blue blue blue
four days
chin deep and alone
my companions I bought for thirty six dollars and change:
Bukowski, and some young unknown poet’s first anthology
I have starved myself for four days to begin loving my body again
today: one orange
shrunken and underwhelming without its peel
why is it? when I love myself I find
only contempt for the people around me
it’s stormed for four days
bone rumbling thunder
spiking veins of lightning
liquid bullets soak into my skin, pound into my bones
at night, I dream of becoming water
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 6:38 PM UTC