"stampedes" poems
There is this woman with stringy brown hair
Blue polka-dotted shirt, the same one
Head droops down
The weight of melancholy stampedes her to near-death.
She hardly holds herself up straight
She barely looks me in the eyes, she is shamed
Every time, she is paler and paler
Every time, gets the same comfort treat, maybe this will help this time
Maybe,
This time.
Chocolate peanut butter flavor with hot fudge and whipped cream
I am the only one who notices her slight shaking..
Fiending? Needing?
$4.61, please
I am the only one who notices the scars on her arms.
"Thank you, have a good day."
And I am frightened that one of them will soon be her last.
I am frightened because I want to save everyone
But I can't.
It's like throwing starfish into the sea, one by one
Still seeing the shore still filled with them.
Everyone around me is drowning and they pull my hair down with them.
Aug 20, 2010
Aug 20, 2010 at 9:16 AM UTC
"Time stampedes with ease
No paradox."--
the wristwatch of hard knocks
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC
99% of Americans don't know
That penguins run the world
That's why they all wear suits
Because world **********
Requires a dress code
Yeah it may look silly
To see a penguin waddle around
But have you ever seen
Black Friday stampedes
And midnight premiere lines
Our penguin overlords are benevolent
If they wanted we'd all be gone
Or forced to work in their egg warming factories
And they keep operations where it's cold
Because they know we like where it's warm
And they keep an eye on us from our zoos
I've been to the zoo in Columbus
I've seen how those penguins watch us
I know they are in control
1% of Americans know
That penguins rule the world
And now that you've read this,
That makes 2%
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
*enter slav digressing with the celt... yeah, saxony, once known as the northern arm's length of parody shaking oiled up speaking saracen sign language: arabica wavy wavy bye bye. you concrete those words in i roof it over, then we can both admire the rich russian vixens dry up their wealth with the saudis - we need television after all - and it’s in 3-d! and it’s 1-d head-banging closure! :)... ;( :x, :s, \: (mouth’s missing but i have a mammoth in malibu -
and my love can’t aim to have the mortgage too - but hey, girl’s heading for the one coin-flip dolphin clap; and i was a teenager once too... but played grand theft auto 2d throughout asking for a bottle of whiskey and a panda’s / koala’s bothersome diet to hunt sleep); is there some sign language translation of emoji? i just don't have the talents to enter the emoji language and become a ********* or make democracy justly an exclusion of cowards and ****** i can’t do that, let’s utilise charles the third! ‘too busy, too fuzzy,’ well hear and karma sutra the talk of the man, after all the coinage and respecting the hedgehog on his head.*
i cleaned it into a hotel like i would into a brothel,
while the suffragettes
looked like the elephant man in niqāb,
and i was ready
with the fist; although i shook less
than i spoke to mouth it off into democracy
continuing the power struggle vetoed with bodies extracted
into the count warranting mourning.
what success is it if a white boy in a western society
can’t leave the nest and establish a taxable one to suit power?
where’s the power then, in the stateless individual?
where is your power to my ******* of being given wife and house
not given? where?!
if i can’t be the individuated pawn power broker you can’t be in power... idiots!
you have to give me the ******* i “desire” to be in power, if you can’t,
you’re not in power! ave augustus ave ego!
try contort the square into a triangle by contorting **** into f*ck.... ah ****
you already did... where’s the spanks’ worth of bullseye?!
you germans have no decency in human affairs
than you have to inspect **** movies varied
by wildebeest stampedes
from guernsey into gibraltar in gifs, do you?
well i did **** off a palm tree and got a coconut for an oasis’ worth of thirst.
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
It’s a hot summer afternoon, perfect in every way,
A time to enjoy and relax, loll about and play.
But the afternoon’s long shadow of darkness makes it clear,
That for a particular group of students, disaster is near.
And this unfortunate bunch march into a hot class that noon,
With filled stomachs and eyes full of blissful slumber,
But still, there is a sense of impending doom in the air, and soon
The class will have to face up to a nightmare they fear.
Then at half past one a man walks in,
He smiles and says,“ good afternoon, class, lets begin!!”
The sir then starts his physics lecture,
Much to the students agony and dismay,
And while they curse and snarl silently like a mangled cur,
They wish they had never lived to see this day.
And in no time the teacher sends out a barrage,
Of “physics”, from lasers to parallel rays, characteristics of a coherent light source,
Reflection, Wein’s displacement, sinusoidal wavefronts and an electron’s charge,
He shouts his voice out till he goes hoarse.
I too, as part of that class, try,
To make sense of the gibberish spoken,
But its hopeless, I give up with a sigh,
I doubt his explanation could be understood by the smartest of men…
And in the sweltering heat of the afternoon, with the lecture being a bore,
The students just can’t listen to him, but can certainly do a lot more…
And within minutes of the lecture the class is in its own world,
Where life by quantum physics is not obscured…
Boys start throwing paper pellets at one another,
While mocking the teacher behind his back,
Meanwhile the girls giggle and nudge each other,
Laughing at the jokes they crack.
And oblivious to all that is going on around him,
The teacher goes on to say why the LEDs glow dim.
And I am caught, in a whirl,
Of various activities all around me,
And while I pen down a poem, think about my favorite girl,
I am amazed at the sight I do see…
The class becomes more and more unruly, falling apart,
And at a certain point it is too much and hence,
The sir stops talking about the critical value, and does start,
To take the class’s attendence.
No sooner is the roll call done that the herd stampedes out,
With many a push, a yell and a shout.
The same phenomena will occur again next week,
Isn’t it an example of college life at it’s peak?...
Nov 5, 2010
Nov 5, 2010 at 10:42 AM UTC
I’ve always had a fascination for sound.
Waves of notes or just jumbled noises
Listening closely to creaks, weeps and notes
Arranged in our everyday life’s own score
The minor quartet of simple
Pages flipping, doors closing
And wood creaking
Cascaded over by the major symphony
Of wind, stampedes of feet walking
And ocean waves crashing on shore
But, now I have a headache, making
Each pound, pow and note
Erupt inside
Sep 3, 2011
Sep 3, 2011 at 10:06 PM UTC
My beloved, believe me when I say you are beautiful
Like how I do whenever you whisper the same to me
We are beautiful, and our love is as beautiful as the word's best definition could ever be
There is beauty in the way our eyes resemble hopeful sunrises
As we gaze into the hollows of each other's soul
In the way our softest kisses spark the most brilliant fireworks in the firmament
In the way the intertwining of our fingers
Commence a massive stampede in the still jungles of our hearts
We are beautiful, my love, we truly are
But we are beautiful stars tremendously shining that cannot be in the same constellation
Our lips are the dulcet melody of an orchestra but the composer wrote us in different music sheets
We are both pieces of a magnificient puzzle but not adjacent ones; our edges do not coincide
Beautiful is how we worship the same sun and perform parallel rituals
Though I realized that we are but ethereal planets bound to our own inescapable orbits
Our corporal entities are home to various innumerable celestial bodies
I have enough proof to say we are galaxies with feet in this incessantly expanding universe
Listen to me love, when I say you are beautiful and so am I
Heed me when I say we are beautiful but we must face the reality
We are as beautiful as we could ever be but our proximity does not yield the same result
Remember that every sunrise will set at a certain time of a wonderful day
That no fireworks display are tattooed on the sky's flesh
That no explosion of resplendent colors remain, that it is a fireworks' nature to disintegrate
And the aftermath of stampedes is just unimaginable
I may not be an astronomer but I have witnessed each of us turn to neutron stars
And two neutron stars cannot occupy the same space, especially collide
The composer's judgment cannot be questioned
For the composer knows the best music shall be produced if we are not played simultaneously
There's a reason why the planets are crafted as they are, why galaxies must stand alone
So for the last time, I will tell you, that you are beautiful my love
You are beautiful as you are, and yes, the same applies to me
Our love is beautiful, as beautiful as its best definition could ever be
But there are things we cannot change, things that we cannot control
Perhaps we can be try to be beautiful together in the next eternity
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 6:40 AM UTC
I want you to rip open your chest and drag my body from your heart to your mind. Push my head into the deepest parts of you. Grab a fistful of my hair and keep my head down.
I'll start to gasp for air,
Unintentionally swallowing parts of you,
feeling the air in
every
alveoli
sac
get replaced by your fears,
Your dreams,
and all your favorite things.
The lyrics from your favorite songs, quotes from your favorite books, and every word from your favorite quotes.
Every sac would be filled with every time you've apologized to someone that wasn't worth it,
The thoughts you have at night when you lay in bed unable to sleep by the loud thoughts in your head.
And what you think happens to us when we die.
I then want you to pull me out.
See if I gasp for oxygen.
If I do, push me back in again.
Deeper this time.
Replace every sac that has been filled with your irrational fears, with every incident you've had that made your legs ******* and teeth chatter from the terror you've felt.
Replace every sac filled with the dreams that you have now, with every dream that you've had before. Tell me about your broken dreams, the dreams you decided that you didn't want anymore, and the dreams that didn't want you.
Replace every story about your past lovers with what you think about your first kiss. And if you think a first kiss is with whoever pressed their lips against yours, or if 'first kiss' is just another word for "the first kiss that felt like two stampedes crashing into each other, exploding into a full spectrum of feelings".
Now pull me out again.
See if I scream your name like it was the Exit door and I was in a burning room.
If I do, if I call out your name instead of gasping for oxygen, know that you've successfully replaced my air with you.
You did it.
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 7:16 AM UTC
Rosy red cheeks shrill as roses
Their laughter ripples smooth as honey
And crummy fingers sticking to their noses
The youth stampedes over quiescent duties
And with their tiny, spiky teeth
And eyes which devours everything
They don't hang their pride like wreaths
For what can be said, they're always smiling
And a splash in a shimmering puddle
Red boots soaked thoroughly for good
With frosting instead caking their lovely riddles
They may the wiser of the rue
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 4:09 PM UTC
Sweeping symphonies of cicadas
escape her parted lips.
The rise and fall
whisper, then scream, of
summers passed.
Shadows falling horizontally –
Ants climbing ants climbing ants.
Parted pieces of soft flesh
dripping with lust.
They will dry up eventually.
This will end eventually.
Stampedes. Stampeding courageously.
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 10:15 AM UTC
Here we go
She screams my name
I frown, she laughs
I walk away
Stampedes my chest
I clench my fists
The door is closed,
I mope and cry
The anger strikes
I claw my way
Tear no more,
my bleeding heart
This place's too tight,
The house has gone wild
'Till when could I say
that it'll all be alright?
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 8:49 AM UTC
He's a small middle schooler,
who loves violent video games
with explositions and railroad trains.
Whenever he sees a train explodes
he threw out his hands and goes insane.
Dashes around the room and screams,
until his whole heart contains.
Some people say he needs help,
but I ignore them and kept quiet because
when I look at him, he reminds me of myself.
I see him in the hallways carrying tons of stuff,
as he walks in a slow and steady pace,
while everybody stampedes
towards the hall like its a big race.
Sometimes he stumbles and falls;
because in his eyes, everybody is tall.
Some people say he needs help,
but I ignore them and kept quiet
because when I look at him,
he reminds me of myself.
What about this kid that makes him tick?
He screams like his head is piled with bricks.
Everyday, the boy gets stressed out at school,
he's like a hot molten rock that never cools.
Sometimes, in his worse days he would whine,
just like how I was when I was nine.
Some people say he needs help,
only this time I volunteered
because he can't do this all by himself .
Now I know what I must do for him
because dealing with autism isn't easy,
it was hard for me to deal with it, believe me.
It was me who saw through him than nobody else
because everytime I look at him,
he reminds me of myself
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 12:12 AM UTC
the truth is,
i'd never thought about my thoughts
until you
asked me what i was thinking
and i had no answer.
really
what could i have told you?
all i know is that there are
a thousand leaky faucets in me and
a thousand overflowing sinks
and that my head pounds to the beat of
stampedes in south africa
of traffic jams and the
screeching tearing twisting
of fenders
(and other such parts)
of the buzz of construction sites and wasps,
of waves beating against rock,
incessant.
(i'm really just
missing all the crucial components
and my skull leaks thoughts in
the ugliest symphony known to man.)
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 12:39 AM UTC
A hole lay, just the size of me,
in the base of a willow tree.
A rabbit hole, no hares to see,
Where hares and rabbits ought to be.
I slip within, the darkness thick,
The floor is hard, the walls are slick.
I'm cramped inside, my breaths are quick,
My teeth make lips too ripped to lick.
I'm drawn in deep, like moth to flame,
I'd never dreamed before I came,
Cautious; things don't stay same,
The giggles shudder in this game.
My company creeps and scurries near,
we fall and crawl in puzzled fear.
There's something else that lingers here.
The bugs and rats have stopped to leer.
Crying! Squeaking! Scurry back!
Stampedes of pests stream, strong and black,
Over, under, they trample a track.
Gone, they go, escape attack.
And when I brace to feel the bite,
I grasp at sudden strands of light,
The night has broken, dawn brings light.
The willow splits to weep, contrite.
I free myself, and give a whoop,
the trail within had made a loop!
And nevermore I dare to snoop,
To peek within the willow's stoop.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 1:12 PM UTC
sightless echo scolds
shakily, piously, chime
stampedes, lean arid
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC
The impermanence of this hour ignites any of my whimsical fancies
churning dormant fantasy, so my undying vitality
booms through every vein, tears past poorly-sewn seams,
and stampedes across unaffected lethargy until something
dares alleviate my despondency, and so transcends this transience;
your smiles stop time for me.
Your smiles allot therapy, and from there, they build synergy
between the group of you and me, and thus, we’ve got some harmony in this
tangy, boundless give-and-take.
For you, I pour out my soul and as arresting compensation,
this bliss on your illuminated faces suspends my
heart’s drumming anticipation and
delineates the reason for my persistent attempts to bring you joy;
from widely-divided mouth corners to pearly whites
engulfing visages.
Air-deficient laughs, eyes overflowing with floods of saline.
Wrinkled noses, squinted eyes, hiccups and sentimental sighs
act as acoustic introduction to that fervent seduction
all of you (time and time again) douse me with to keep my fire burning.
No matter the time or place, your hallowed happiness
is forever that axiomatic substance that prompts me
to draw breath, warmth and vision ceaselessly.
Smile; it insires me.
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
the torture of doubt stampedes
the mind sometimes.
it has destroyed many lives and
brought about so many crimes.
doubt churns and churns and digs
deep into a man's soul.
many may think they can outlast its
wits only to end up losing control.
doubt has taken down groups in
packs and/or singled some out.
it has wipe clean the heart's of lovers
leaving an empty heart without.
you can be happy and suddenly
doubt seeks to make it's change.
it has so much hidden power to
cause a bright mind to suffer derange.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 12:33 AM UTC
-iT
Doesn't care,
iT
Wants
To Be lost
In iT self...
-with all iTs distractions
Peripheral visions
Collideoscope
The heart felt....
+ diluting
All that's around
iT
Can't comprehend
The ágape...
+ so iT
Crashes
Head on
In hopes
iT's purpose
Properly translates...
- push
stampedes
To shove,
When the blind
Brush along the walls.
-Occasionally
Bursting off the ceiling
When
There's nothing left
to stand on...
+Offense
Shouldn't be taken,
For that in which
You know not
There of.
+sadness
The constant passenger,
iT
Continues to love...
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 7:28 PM UTC
all of these nerves--
creating wildebeest
stampedes in my
stomach.
hope they're wrong
about the future.
the fear is
consuming.
but i don't even
know why.
life's really crazy sometimes.
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 1:26 PM UTC
#1
Wake to grey morning,
April fooled us denying Spring,
thunderous storming.
Sleet and angry rain
skeins of winter falling ice
floods and flashy mud.
Down rolls the deluge
quenching Joshua trees instead
of man's thirsty head.
#2
*Above the desert skyline roils a maelstrom of foreboding clouds
every shade of sorrow, the color of every tear, vapid greys all gathered up as thunder claps and rolls as though nimbus giants were bowling. April foolishly battling within the fronts and blows / the westerly gusting breath of brine and pine whistles fast and harshly on the song of my wind chimes. Here comes the deluge of obese drops and tiny dots of flavorless ice, sleet and rain storm to drown the light of day, April fools in showers drenched, like insects avoiding the water board kind of fate, running amok like gutter dirt and city mud. Flash flood warning: the thunder explodes from the distant hills, as the floe of rage and silt, stampedes in whirling river runs, avoid the tsunami sized kind of flood. The deathly hollow of an undertow, April showers serious moods, and fools are silent in this hush, she has duped us to have our trust... and like thunder rolls the drums of war, lovers and flora soaking seeds, wait for Spring in May will be: the blossoming of thirsty soil, but now from the vantage of this balcony, watch the maelstrom roil...*
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 12:19 PM UTC
Confronted by a towering wall
spanning miles above me..
..I..
Get a grip! says one of my men.
it shan't be long now-
attach the hooks and wires,
and climb-!
As I stumble towards the wall
something arches fourth
from my stomach
some kind of muck or mire
comes rushing forward
and my mind disappears
Awakened by the foul stench
of burning sulfur and coal
I open my eyes, groggily
and though blurry and strained
I perceive small little hooven feet
dancing about me
Yet no fear is within me
my aversions long gone
for this sight is one
I have grown accustomed to
I live among them
pray among them
I search my soul
which is littered with
legions of these horned monsters
each having various faces
are they me?
are we you?
are we sane?
I hardly care anymore
the clutter strewn about
is what remains of my
sanity
the cobwebs attest
to just how long
I've treaded hereabouts
I'm tired...
I say good Sirs, and Madams
I am so very tired.
Shall we fetch you a cup of tea, sir?
No, get me that bottle over yonder
Yes, Sir-!
Mam, the bottle appears to be empty
Empty you say-?!
I swat away the pest
and hunt for something by which
I can use to dim the light of my vision
stampedes of friends bring me many more gifts
illusions, fantasies, various pains, and love letters
each smiling with crooked menacing teeth
they appear gifts in hand, and up to evil no doubt
Sir, shan't you take your morning brew?
Madam, I have taken it, and I am indeed due for more
With cup in hand, I ask of my friends
to lay me down and help me to sleep
using their tiny hands and arms
they pull shut my eyelids,
and as I begin to lose my vision
I perceive in the distant clouds
the saddened face of someone I once knew
frowning
as the face disappears into the moisturous clouds
I faintly remember I had something to do
or maybe somewhere to be?
However for now
I think I shall enjoy various brews and cups laden with
miseries
and I shall share them with my horned and bedeviled friends
because my body, mind, and soul
has come to very much resemble them
or perhaps they me?
Cheers.
May 16, 2021
May 16, 2021 at 2:01 PM UTC
Take the medicine to feel well again
Allow sleep to creep up on you
Desire the sleep and count the sheep
The flock has grown too large
to control
and it stampedes over your soul
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 3:27 PM UTC
Water running through toes and over elbows.
Cascading down forearms and up necks.
Falling in stampedes from underneath eyelids
PIT PAT
PIT PAT
PIT PAT
Onto shoelaces and ankles and
Fabric draped across our laps.
This is the feeling of an afternoon spent entangled in
Covers. The sensation of a cold breeze
Swooping us up on its burdensome wings
Only to ask “Where’s my tip?” and the shrugging shoulders
That follow. The rattle of empty pockets. The
Shattering of glass and a cry for HELP
So incredibly ARDUOUS it slices your throat
Like a steel blade
SSSSSS SSSSSSSSSSSS
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
And the clock doesn’t stop ticking
Around and around until you’re too dizzy.
This is the feeling of water running through toes and over elbows. Cascading down forearms and up necks. This is the feeling of an afternoon spent entangled in covers. The feeling of a cold breeze swooping us up on it burdensome wings. The feeling of a cry so arduous it slices your throat like a steel blade.
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 8:20 PM UTC