"stabilized" poems
i am running out of
air
i am running out of
scrapes on my knees
running out of
new corners to cross
in this neighborhood
we are growing up in the same houses
with the same curtain of trees draping
their limbs over our windowsills
we are sleeping in the same bedsheets
wrinkled from the imperative
tossing and turning
of adolescents.
we inflate our chests
and float away like red balloons
a freckle in the pale complexion of the sky
for this love affair with the pavement
has lost its edge
this slipping on
slimy banana peels
has stabilized
we have bitten and scratched and stained
the doors of your fingers
studied every trail of your fingerprints
we have grown older in the palm of your hand
your fists raised to the sky
it is time for you to open them.
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 3:33 PM UTC
Strangely enough, I
almost missed the
birth of my three year
old daughter.
I have never written much for
popularity or trends; this one
is no exception.
My girlfriend and I
had been separated most
of her pregnancy.
I stabilized the last three months and
was able to
travel the 50 miles
as often as needed to
be there for the birth.
The night before she went
into labor, that morning, she acted
crazier than usual--passive aggressive,
and cruel biting remarks.
Finally, she just came out with it,
"I looked at your phone while you were sleeping,
and you have been watching **** I'm taking you
back to Mason City and you can just miss
the birth of your daughter.
Luckily, we only made it a few blocks before
she went in to labor.
But, she hasn't let me
live it down.
And I hoped like hell,
as I looked down at my
little angel,
I sure the **** hope
that she never becomes
a **** star.
Jan 13, 2021
Jan 13, 2021 at 1:28 PM UTC
There he is
the loudest guy in the bar
Boasting about clandestine OPS
and battles he’d ‘prefer not to remember’,
But he does,
because he has an audience
There he was in Ramadi, Korengal,
Tikrit, Kandahar, pinned down by dozens,
no hundreds, of enemy fighters.
His best mate, was hit by shrapnel or an enemy round.
He screams for Doc
But no help comes
The barroom hero
applies a compression bandage,
but the blood continues to flow through his fingers
Minutes pass, his buddy worsens.
Doc arrives, finally.
The buddy is stabilized and loaded onto a stretcher
He’ll be on the first bird out
The battle hardened warrior continues his tale,
regaling his table with airstrikes, CQB, and
taking the battle to the enemy.
Someone asks, “What unit were you in?”
He replies proudly, “The Second Ranger Battalion.”
You set your own beer down and spin from your chair.
You make your way from your table to his.
You place a silver coin upon it,
“Second Ranger Battalion,” you say,
“Coin Check.”
The color drains from his face
Fear in his eyes and an ‘Oh **** expression on his face,
He stammers something about being ‘attached’
and having orders for Ranger School once.
Your icy glare tells him that he’d better
**** and **** before he is no longer able to do either.
He throws a $20 onto the table and finds his way to the door.
******* ****
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 1:07 PM UTC
. revolution?!
what revolution?!
i can't see a guillotine!
****
hey! guys! there's no guillotine!
there's no talk
of a revolution
when there's no guillotine...
your talk of, a, "revolution"
would make Marquis de Sade
cringe,
and shout down a toilet
than out of window
of the Bastille..
this isn't a revolution,
it's on;ly 2018....
you have to wait!
why are tthe people so slothful,
yet at the same time,
eager, to work?
we're looking at "changes"
come 2045...
the year...
that apparently stabilized
the 2th0 century for
20 / 30 / 40 / 5...
no...
let's keep it with
sucker-punch Billy...
i love being a drunk...
makes all the sober
people look...
******* stupid;
and i don't even mean that....
it's just a military
fatigue...
it akin to:
coulrophobia...
yeah... big time... women making
excursions
for fatigued wool and silk
dresses...
one question does the job...
*honey, can i play the clown
at our honey- berry's birthday
party?*
do women go into
mascara parlors,
window shopping,
with a man tagging along?
honey...
do you really need me to tag along
while you shop for
make-up chemical
parade of tested adherents
for your beauty of your
expectation of fur...
Mike and Moany - the gerbils...
i thought you liked them?
no...
i can do the sheered
woolen artifacts...
when it comes to spreading
lipstick on frogs
and testing their
pyrotechnic susceptibility potential...
watching the Mike Myers' twins...
no... really...
count me out of
the necessity to make
an argument for a race...
i'm out...
done...
i never liked the English
existentialist argument to begin with...
too individualistic,
too finite...
too much of:
enjoying a hell
of a good time...
it's a simple economic logic
focus...
what you're selling?
i'm not buying.
it's that simple!
i don't have to buy what you're
selling!
stand with it all stacked up...
i'm not buying!
somehow i think
the English intellectuals
forgot the basic principles...
i'm, not, buying!
savvy?
god... ugh...
i know the French are bad...
about their oversee of diacritical
application,
and how they make no
sense when syllables
come into play...
and the Germans... yeah yeah...
i get their scrutiny of
method and dedication...
their teutonic charge within
the confines of ******** screws
into place...
but i'm still not seeing
an clearer...
there's talk of a revolution
in the English tongue...
so...
where's the guillotine?!
oh...
so...
what revolution?!
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 6:51 PM UTC
Do you ever feel tied to a string drifting aimlessly through the world?
Forcibly being pulled in random directions and never the way you want?
Then why do you shy away from the one who holds you tight,
The one who tells you to ignore the habitual ways of the world and go where you want?
When they hold onto the string which sways you, dont you feel as if you have been stabilized?
As if the world is no longer just a blur, but a vision of clarity around those gentle hands which hold you in their grasp?
As if they are all of the answers to the questions life relentlessly asks you?
When they stop you from swaying out of control the dizziness doesn't stop
It leaves from your head and rushes to your heart sending butterflies to your stomach
Leaving you in a foreign position with thoughts you can't believe you hold behind your fragile mind
Before you have time to hold your hands out to catch yourself you begin to fall heart first for the one nobly clutching onto your wavering string
All the doubt and panic of the world seems irrelevant
As time passes the worries of yesterday fade away as you gaze into the eyes of the one gallantly at your side
As the distance between you fade your heart lightens as the strings connecting you disappear to be replaced by warmth of those stabilizing hands
No longer separated by the strings of fate your thoughts are clear
The one who's been there through all of the calamity
The one who held you when you were lost and insecure
Who brought you out of the veils of darkness and into the light
A friend, a lover, a soulmate
The person just for you who built their home inside your heart
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 12:29 AM UTC
Mood-stabilized eyes began to speak,
and I screamed up to that moon,
"what's this you've done to me?"
I loved you on the day that you born,
and I'll love you till I'm clawing at the
woodwork and the worms.
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
We began with little mutations,
Harmless, or more so beneficial,
We adapted to our love,
With no methods of dispersal,
People thought we couldn’t get any closer,
But your behaviors changed and we began to isolate,
We were stabilized so I hoped for fusion,
But realized that overtime not even reinforcement could’ve helped,
We had our Kingdom set up,
And later we fell into a “Family”,
But you classified me too general,
Now I don’t know where I belong,
My feelings for you were like the Cambrian,
Sadly enough they became a catastrophe,
You started selecting,
Seeing me as worthless,
But I knew I am not one to select,
You looked at me like you’ve studied Phylogenetics,
I was at the most top,
But ended up at the bottom,
You were not natural, but neither was I,
What did our selections favor?
And our relationship turned into cloud and dust,
Sadly it collapsed,
And you left me imprints of lies and hurt,
And words preserved inside me like a cast,
You ingested away my feelings,
I was the pili so attached to you,
But you were an endospore resisting all of me,
You no longer knew what feelings were,
And to you, I was an annual,
Got replaced so quickly,
But I shed tears where the oceans have formed,
And supported you like the roots of trees,
But you were a virus,
A pathogen,
A parasite,
And I was the host,
Blinded by your toxins,
And my cells swelled in favor of you,
You offered me and I gladly took,
I thought I was an obligate,
Surviving off of you,
But I was too mindless to see the real you,
And I was like the Archaea,
Survived the harshest paths for you,
But with a single expression you crushed my world,
And like a Zygomycota you’ve molded our love away,
And sadly enough I couldn’t evolve,
With pain feeling like spikes inside,
I am no longer the magistrate of love,
And love is my killer.
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 2:00 PM UTC
I’m Failure!
She said that with a shining crystal tear in her eyes…
She broke my silence!
Shrinking in her bed, hiding her face, with a tear which killed my strength and toughness… I felt naked.. felt I have no power to make her safe!
Like a little child, eager to have that warm hug, that safe hug, that secure corner… and She broke my boundaries with world I don’t belong to….
Did she saw me how I see and feel her!
Did she felt how she had my back safe and my feelings secured!
Did she realized how stabilized our time and life together!
You didn’t fail me!
You didn’t hurt me!
You didn’t make me feel tired!
On the Opposite….
You did let me feel my humanity…my worthness…my existance…my signature…myself!
And after all that you are saying “I’m A Failure”
You can feel Sad..You can feel Pain…You can feel Disappointed …. You have the right to be Human! And we will still experience Sad, Pain, Disappointment beside other things however we didn’t Quit… we didn’t Surrender… we still in the Arena that we created and will create and that we will keep creating together and with each other.
Be who you are and don’t be a shame of showing your uniqueness… your worthiness…showing how treasure you are for me…
With love..with admiration..with humble I tell you…you are Enough!
Feb 22, 2020
Feb 22, 2020 at 11:15 PM UTC
My sister is a fantastic writer.
She started writing as a way to cope.
She misses our grandmother's house,
for quite some time that was all she could write about.
She wrote about the looming, gentle, green pines that swayed over the small pond and the way you could gaze at the water and see not only the pines but also sky, just as blue and white and occasionally yellow and orange and you could could see it just as clearly whether you looked down or up.
Now, she writes about God,
or god, (although I don't think she believes in a 'the God')
she writes about the cold mist from the bay that warms up by midday but there are no pine trees.
My grandma became sick.
She became very sick of mind,
although her heart has never failed,
her memory failed her and anxiety overcame her.
She couldn't live out on the ridge anymore.
She couldn't take care of those twelve acres and the horse and the donkey and the dogs and the very small cat named Po that only came down from the attic very rarely and only to eat. She couldn't take care of these things and herself and my mother and she couldn't have laid a bigger hand into molding my sister and me. Through many an ear yank and many a promise of the wooden spatula (a never kept) she forced and graced upon us respect; for the land and living beings like, love, for the land and living beings alike, and a humbleness before the beauty of the land and living things alike.
My grandmother now lives in a gated community. Her condition has stabilized through trial and error using psychoactive drugs. Her understanding is lower and her anxiety is much higher than when she lived on the ridge but the doctors don't want to make things worse with experimentation and my grandmother doesn't want to either.
My sister's words always bleed of the page and I can see the pond and the trees and our tan bodies and the dry red dirt, and I'm thankful she has this affinity. I'm glad she can play scenes from our childhood out as if from a movie.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 2:12 AM UTC
Memories and stop signs
This is a moving train
They took it away
Who are you?
And me?
Get out of my head
You know just as well as I do
We don’t belong here
No maps, no ceremonies
We’re replaceable
Headlines and lights out
Starving
Stop asking
They’re going to send you back now
I saw them
Clawing, fighting, scratching
Locked in white now
We’re safe here
Just concentrate
Stabilized, he’s breathing
Where am I?
She’s getting worried now
They could be anywhere
They could be anywhere
That pressure in the chamber
Last reflection of tension
Return to find it
I know we stole something
Scared, counting
Like magnets
They waited together
Spread the disease
Light the message
We don’t have very long
Would you stop me?
Dig a hole, exposed
Tell the story child
She’ll forget, he’s coming
Snow, it was snowing
Bad days
Help me leave it behind
Inscribed, crumble
We all fall down
Chronicled by who
Let’s see where it takes us
Time to wake up
Don’t be angry
I could do this all night
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 7:45 PM UTC
-
Sometimes it feels most practical to be able to forget
To wipe away bitter regrets and past mistakes,
Take with you those once cherished,
lightly tainted memories
and completely clean off your slate.
Wouldn't that be easy?
I'd say to myself, let's start from Square One.
Back again, to when we were fresh friends
And nothing truly mattered, because
We'd only just met
Fresh friends, see that's the safest bet
I’d barely know you and you’d barely know me.
Which means there'd be no cute stories
of how we'd often, somehow,
End up in contemporary art galleries or
browse through used paperback books in
secondhand nooks
No memories of losing myself
time and time again,
in a library of stolen glances,
paper chances
That you could possibly see me one day through my
rose colored glasses (lenses?)
I'd erase these photographs of
Your piano hands, your cautious smiles
how I'd lost my breath when you held my hand and you’d smiled
that day when we lost footing in that throng of music goers in July
intertwined, lungs vibrating,
swallowing in confetti air
Forgetting
How being that close to you was confetti in my very mind
Let there be no recollection
of dreams of stolen kisses and petty wishes
to November’s drunk hamlet readings and karaoke dances
Always one step ahead, see
You were always so much, too much
yet I could never have been quite enough
Square one,
I say
to the day I never realized just how much my veins eagerly rushed
With the synchronous sound of your name,
to when my mirror didn’t whisper every morning,
Ever since that day in May;
“I wonder if she would like this?”
Square One
Where I'd know only of you, but
not how well you drew
Square One
Where I depended on myself
and not you
Square One
Because clearly that would make things
Easy
Square One
But I don’t know if I should do
What’s right or what’s easy
So,
Maybe I shouldn’t take back
All that I said, instead
Ruminate the worthwhile pieces of what’s left
Of these lessons and these laughs
Because
2, 3, 7 months can quickly pass
And we’d still have these left over pieces
Maybe it's okay to collect them, carefully
but only with a fresh pair of eyes and
only once my mind has truly
stabilized
Maybe then I could replace
What’s left of bitter apathy
and undo it with my outstretched arms,
Open palms,
once more- maybe
I could try again with
one last
apology so
I hope you can truly see that
I’m sorry.
pk
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 9:10 PM UTC
Love
. This is a hidden sense of walking everywhere and around the world
In search of a chance of stroking sensation .. And enchanting eyes ..
To creep quietly .. And stabilized in the absence of reason and in spite of you ..
Inside the cavities of the heart .... To have the spirit and conscience
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 10:06 AM UTC
Your words are like a hidden key,
They unlock secret parts of me.
I might be your fall, but you’re a pick-me-up to me. I might have written my way into your book, but you did more, you illustrated your love clearly, you displayed it so publicly that it was somehow secreted in front of my own eyes.
Your ruby red cheeks provide a window into your mind, indicating what it is you think when I speak: happiness, anger, fear, contentment.
Your lips provide a physical contact point for us to meet, connection yet no wifi needed, communication yet no cell towers, A commitment between two invisible entities, a communication between two hearts.
My eyes betray my emotion as your cheeks betray yours. What study is it that requires me out of your head? What history is more important than that of our own? What pit is so deep, so dark as to keep the sun away? For, love, tell me this, and I shall change it faster than a bad tv channel.
Your worries should fade, for they are nothing but spiteful superficial seeds sown by one who claims to dis thee. Hateration is a disease, but, my love, when one is as beautiful as you are or as sweet and mellifluous as you, you must accept that you attract it.
Taking note of your existence is like being in a building burning and continuing your business, ergo I always do what I can to let you know that I see you. I love you, I loved you, and I’m loving you to this day. So may our loves last as long as our kisses, and may our kisses last as long as our intimatic energies can remain stabilized.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 12:30 PM UTC
I am calm
the butterflies subsided
my palms dry
heart stabilized
steadily beating as I finish the bottles
left empty on the bedside.
I slip into the dress
put on my face
curl my hair
and stare in the mirror
imagining how I'd look
in a few hours time;
the flush of red in my cheeks long gone
skin grown cold
empty eyes.
I lie down
note at my feet
and wait for the numbness
to take me away
so I can find peace
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 5:18 PM UTC
see, I was drowning in unfamiliar waters
it was like I had taken permanent residency in a country that didn't want me
yet, I insisted on staying
it was as comfortable as a laying on bed of roses
the petals were pretty but the thorns dug deep
life was so mundane
then you came...
I didn't know who you were
I didn't where you're from
but, your words touched me
to the core of my being they resuscitated me
from my heart failure
and with every piece I stabilized
see you pulled me out of my coffin of unused talent
brought me back to the land of living
reminding me that though I thought my heart was gone
my soul was still alive and for as long as I breath
I live but what is life without my art?
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 5:39 AM UTC
Pain woke me up
Like a bolt of lightning
It shot through my body
Grasping reality
I winced
Another streak of pain
From my core
To my fingertips
Paralyzing my limbs
Incoherent thoughts flew
'Is this a dream?'
No, I'm in pain
Real striking pain
Recurring pain
Shot after shot
Each vein in agony
Every nerve on overdrive
'Focus!!'
I willed myself
Slowly I opened my eyes
Heartbeats stabilized
While pain still writhed inside
With each strike I settled
As I drifted off to sleep
Pain is now a natural thing
Like blood flow under my skin
I live with it <3
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
1
and the tailor
did stitch seams
so well
to the tears
of her brokenness
he employed
a repairing thread
which bought
solace to her soul
that had been
so badly shredded
11
sutures of fondness
sewed into her heart's
deep distress
each one bringing
a lightening to her
infernal mess
his cotton of tenderness
did so well coalesce
111
his restorative yarn
patched her heart's fabric
with such kindness
for she'd been hurt
her heart rendered to bits
his silken affections
mended it
1V
the heart is such
a delicate *****
it can be dealt
much ghastliness
with the application
of a good man's stitching
it can be again
stabilized
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 7:41 AM UTC
what to do with a broken
knee cap, tilted mindscape,
loss of stabilized perception?
comb the hair to the right,
let the fringe do all the
talking,
bang, bang, bang
shoot down the rest
of the face;
for it's smiles that keep
us at bay, until we are saddened
once more
by those despicable thoughts
how they cease to persist.
but persist they must
for what is a being
without opposition?
be it
itself
or a finely structured
organization.
and so as organisms
it's our duty to
rise, expand,
fall and collapse
and continue this
without much reason
and purpose
till it's no longer
a viable option.
sung to sleep
by the various
choices; lulled awake by
auto-pilot actions,--
i am a grievance unto myself
and it's this truth that opens
a multitude of worlds to me.
happiness is a warm slum
where all the villagers huddle
by the fire, and speak of good
old days gone by.
they shall come again,
and again. joy gleaming
with viciousness, pouring
out each pupil as though
it were a lullaby searching
for the ear of a newborn.
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 1:27 AM UTC
Living in one place for
a long time tends to
complicate the memory.
Flashes and visions intervene
and overlap in the conscious.
There is the corner where
I first told you I loved you,
imitations of that anxiety flood
the nervous system and I am
that stumbling little boy again.
That time I left for the summer
and you cried, right there,
begging me to stay.
I look away now because I
remember how hard it was to leave.
Look back and there we are again,
a year later. You’re crying for
another reason.
And there you are,
yelling in that auditorium as
you hit me in the chest, tears streaming
down both of our cheeks.
I had class in that room all year,
replaying that hatred in your eyes,
over and over.
The bar we went on a date to.
I loved you there,
elegant in black, and I
hadn’t shaved and I knew
and you knew and everyone knew
I was the lucky one to
have been there at all.
Later, the same bar you threw
a drink in my face.
The same bar I watched
you with another man.
Memory is a curse when
stabilized by the tangibility
of location.
I am stuck in winding loops
of memories that will never
be made again.
Like walking the ruins
of a great civilization,
knowing something beautiful
and magnificent once took place
but now is nothing but
twisted remains and
dusted fragments of a life
that may have been
but no longer is
anymore.
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC
I am from the past, who didn’t quite know when to grow.
From locked doors to the grassland below.
I am from the barrier that guards dangerously.
But within, carelessly.
I am from the smears,
that obtain memories
within a frame.
Where these lay on the shelves of revival,
containing hope for the unknown prospective
that we yet to see.
I am from broken flesh,
mourning to be stabilized.
I am from colours, aimlessly falling from virtuosity,
controlled by ferocity.
Where fanfares erupt into paradise,
and hallucinations rupture.
Where I’m from, emotions get merged into blackness,
struggling to reach the vivid axis.
Now, I embrace my differences,
letting go of references,
grasping to the importance of life itself.
Where I'm from,
none of this occurred.
I now cross the line,
that never was yet to make,
and find ambition within the space.
It's my calling to surrender the actuality
to the mentality.
To unchain the affliction
from the prediction
all teens are held to.
Where I'm from, makes me who I am,
without the destruction,
and the scramming effect.
I am from a war,
that has just conquered love.
In this exact moment,
my quest has not been completed.
The revision of the universe
still holds within my time slot,
gradually fading away
with every step I take.
On my wall,
I clasp to the movement
that wasn’t fully satisfied.
Swinging from the clothespins,
clinching to what was left behind.
I am from these callings,
yelling to break the norms,
that my past had inforced.
Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 1:18 PM UTC
I’m not sure how I intend to make a living but I’m gonna make it out the hood one day I’m not tryna be poor forever & I’m done with going to jail wasted years of my life I can never get back I’m just tryna do exactly what it is I said I would can’t deviate from the mission when u in a stabilized position it’s better to not get noticed then to be looked down upon can’t be stupid nowadays u have to want to survive & u have to keep moving forward to do that I’m thinking to much sometimes so I smoke marijuana to ease my mind & when I see my life through the eyes of the Lord I’ll leave all my worries behind take up my cross daily & live for nobody but Jesus in my room making music for the boredom but I know it’s stupid to waste time on useless projects I hope my journalism isn’t worthless yet I throw them in the garbage instead of saving them for what who wants to read my thoughts I will share my story with u if u would share your dollar with me
May 3, 2020
May 3, 2020 at 6:26 AM UTC
**** and alcohol are there
They keep me stabilized
No one knows
It’s my vice right now
I’m drunk writing this
Slurring my words
I may seem fine externally
Internally I’m screaming
I got to pretend
You can’t know how I feel
You won’t let me drink
But it really helps
Maybe that’s bad
But to me it feels amazing
You don’t understand
Just let me have this
At least until I get help
Maybe I’ll get better
I know his doesn’t make sense
It was just a rant
**** it, I don’t care
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 10:25 PM UTC
a year lost
stolen
taken from me
and now
a year later
i'm still recovering....
i took a few brave steps
to drag myself out
of the hurricane in my head
i was so ruled by fear...
but i conquered it
and as a reward
a few months of bliss
emotions soared high
i could've done anything
on top of the world
but eventually i adjusted
stabilized
then started dropping off
going numb
feeling cold
i was convinced nothing mattered
haunted and plagued by the past
depression took root
everything was wrong
i'd flatlined
to pull myself back
towards reality
i've been searching
for pleasure, pain
anything
i'm reckless
i'm destructive
I just want to _feel_
Feel my pulse, my breath
Feel the bliss, the wounds
Everything. All of it.
I desperately seek a reminder
I'm trying to wake myself from this nightmare
Jar myself into reality
Because I keep finding myself questioning
If I'm even still alive...?
Aug 9, 2019
Aug 9, 2019 at 3:48 AM UTC