"standoffish" poems
It was not, by any means, a loss of faith;
Indeed, her devotion was a boundless, unfettered thing
Beyond proscription, beyond rote chant and catechism,
And what she found as a novitiate
Were shuttered gates and gossipy confessionals,
Standoffish priests, pig-eyed and pinch-lipped
Sisters who thought life’s commerce
No more than mechanical prayer and spotless linens,
The whole enterprise
Smacking of the exclusion of Heaven’s bounty.
So she demurred when the time came to take her orders,
And she returned to the world of pavements and lesser pieties,
Free to seek God on park swings and barstools,
In pleasures of the pastoral and the profane,
Though her faith is no Dionysian walkabout,
As she is passionate to the cusp of maniacal
When it comes to the Book of James’ admonition upon works;
She is often found among the sisters she once tiptoed alongside
At food pantries and clothing drives
(She is scrupulous about ministering to only secular needs,
As the Bishop is not happily disposed towards those
Who choose not to take the veil,
And the specter of excommunication is a prospect
Too awful to contemplate)
Afterwards clambering onto some vaguely roadworthy MTA bus
Back to her studio apartment in Green Island,
Where she often walks down to the Erie Canal lock nearby,
Praying for those who have travelled near and upon the water,
Convenience store clerks and ragged Irishmen fleeing famine,
Feral kittens and insufficiently mourned mules.
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 10:39 AM UTC
A mechanized millennium
studded
with silver rivets hammered from
the once glorious dreams of the populace
They are now all identical.
cylindrical
instruments that pierce the flesh of progress
conformity:
the price paid to advance across the toll bridge
that is "the betterment of society"
But bland and boring can hardly be better
than stark and standoffish rants of individual pipe dreams
They took those too-
the pipe dreams are now piping in the plumbing that runs beneath the streets
we walk all over them.
only half realizing they exist and not half caring
anymore
with spirits that lack luster our
low lackluster dreams are dying
Apr 4, 2012
Apr 4, 2012 at 3:10 PM UTC
I wish I lacked empathy.
I don’t want to feel.
I don’t want to see signs.
I don’t want to be real.
One minute, I’m fine—
then my soul explodes in my chest.
I wish I didn’t see that.
But I did. And now, no rest.
I wish I could shrug,
say “that’s not my concern,”
but every flicker of pain
Causes my stomach to hurt.
I notice the silence,
the shift in your tone—
there's nothing in your voice
It's all I think about alone.
This is why I'm standoffish and stick to just me
There's no ache in loneliness
At least not the kind that stings
Maybe I'll make friends but that feels like betrayal
These self imposed rules- a safe fortress failure
I wish I didn’t feel
At least not to this extent
My day was going so good
But I ruined it again
Jun 11, 2025
Jun 11, 2025 at 3:21 PM UTC
I can hope
that the door I open
shuffles the words
I want to say
in the right order
at the precise velocity.
Somehow barely
pinching phrases
stretching and minimizing
rectangle ideas that will reflect the standoffish modesty of perfection.
Syllables fly fly fast and aren't heard.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
Favorite excuse: I'm tired.
Works like a charm.
Everytime.
Ninetypercentofthetime.
I am tired from lack of sleep
I am tired of being soft-spoken, shy, unsure, standoffish, rude, ******
I am tired of people talking behind my back
I'm tired of talking behind their backs
I'm tired of being speechless; not knowing what to say,
how to say it...
when to say it.
I'm tired of talking to myself
[I like to think I'd love some company]
I'm tired of beating my brains out.
Tired of trying to spend time with people who don't want to spend time with me.
Tired of trying to find new friends [how many people live in the world? why am I alone?]
Tired of fake and fumbled attempts at fostering flailing and failing friendships.
I'm tired of being in a room full of people who see me but don't really see me;
who know me, but only a little. Hardly.
Who either hate or love what I am now
Who wish I'd go back to the precious, less-scary, much-more-approachable girl that I used to be.
The baby that they ooh'ed and ahh'ed and cuddled into this mush.
A mush that they could mold into anything
they wanted.
They pulled
my arms and stretched my legs.
They smoothed
and straightened "Ooh, yeah, that looks good," they'd murmur under hot, concentrated breath.
But after all, I was only a mush.
Not a tangible and workable [fixable] medium.
Not sugar, not spice, not everything nice; certainly NOT what little girls are made of.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 2:37 PM UTC
I am standoffish scar. Armfuls of hurt worm through this spar, this whisper no longer here. A thread of then, turned lead now. Eater of blue. The glib is winning. It's too much. It tires me. I'm always tired. Why? I'm never ever going to be me, again. I am lined with lines of lies lied, tied up and gagged with ballnchain blame games. It's easy to lay me. Sleeper of sleep, pulling my sleeve into childish reveries of when nothing was anything but that was ok. I know it wasn't really actually ok, but the thought of good times haunts the line dividing me between the wake and sweet release. I let it **** me
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 4:23 PM UTC
It was very standoffish
back in the forties
still
I wish I'd been there.
Not so different today
just a new way of being
in and seeing things in
a different way.
*****
a torpedo
from
Saucelito
killed time in
the winery
a fine fellow he,
but down there in the canyons
loose cannons
abandon
all hope.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 3:12 PM UTC
I am one,
In a trillion,
Significant enough,
With standoffish movement of air,
Of any velocity.
I will furnish you with an upchucking sensation,
In your solar plexus,
And move your heavy head,
Round and round,
Round and round.
Outdoing the darkness,
Above and beneath,
I will emerge cold-eyed;
I will emerge cold-eyed,
And hit the strong,
And bold,
And black boulders.
And sprinkle moisture droplets on your pale face.
I am one,
In a trillion,
Vying with my facsimiles,
And similar ones,
For reaching the untraced,
Unknown,
And unfrequented coves,
With puissance,
And robbing the possessions,
I will recede.
I will recede,
And submerse everything with me,
And what awaits me,
On my way.
Come,
And dunk yourselves,
Thinking I will wash all your transgresses,
Come,
You puny creatures,
I will,
But wash only your grimy,
And filthy bodies.
Advance farther,
And you will be another meal,
To me.
I am one,
In a trillion,
Significant enough,
Roaring monotonously.
I am a wave,
In a humongous ocean,
Busier than a bee,
Rising and falling,
Forever,
Growing old,
And working harder,
Than ever.
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
I'm having doubts again. See, I don't last very long with a good thing before I overthink and over analyze and over anticipate and overwhelm and suddenly it's a poison that's eating me alive. I felt alive and that was all that mattered, feeling love and loved at last, after time and time again where my heart and brain teamed up to destroy my iridescent hope and it was so good that I didn't even see the flaws, looked through them like glass. Except now, his glass is half empty-- but only for a split second before its half full and then totally full-- and he's not a mean drunk but he drinks so ******* much that it makes me sick and I'm sick of my own hypocrisy because God knows I drink more than I should but I'm not throwing my life away with every shot. I know we have a shot at fixing our problems before I let this love spiral down the drain but I just can't seem to make it out alive because self sabotage is so much easier. Maybe I should stop looking around, maybe I should wear blinders when I walk so I don't see potential replacements with "no flaws" and of course I know they're all flawed but... But... I didn't lose my train of thought I lost my conscience because how can I look elsewhere? I spent so much time wishing I would be loved back and now that I am I want nothing more than the freedom of watching a different back walk out my door whenever I want. It's just a real chin-scratcher, how on one hand I want forever with him-- his drinking problem and his floppy hair and his long distance and his standoffish-ness-- but on the other I want out.
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 2:28 PM UTC
He always wears longs sleeves
And anyone who tries to be friendly to him
He pushes away
He isolates himself
I've never seen him with friends
I gave him my number
He didn't text me back
I wonder if there is a reason behind it all
Why he likes to live alone, in silence
I'm going on the same trip as him
Late in the year
Should I try to get into his head
Try to talk to him
And unravel him?
Break down his walls?
I'd like to try
I'm not afraid
Of finding his inner demons behind the walls
I have my own
I'm not afraid
But I'm afraid
It isn't my place
Or that he will be angry with me
For trying to melt his steel walls
If I fail
If he doesn’t let me in
Is it worth a try?
Will it seem too stalkerish
If I try to break down his walls?
It never hurts to knock
But it hurts if they open the door
Just long enough to hurt you
Then shut you out again
I don’t know
What do you think?
Please comment and let me know your opinion. I need advice on that.
He is really attractive but beyond that he fascinates me. I liked him the moment I saw him. He plays violin and basketball and I really want to get to know him but I am scared and I am worried he will freak out that I am being creepy and insistent after I gave him my number and he didn’t text me back. (Although it is unconfirmed that he owns a cellphone and I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t) I have heard of other girls who tried to talk to him but he was pretty standoffish and they all gave up on him. Should I give up too?
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 4:36 PM UTC
There is no home in my home town.
I try not to let it get me down.
There is no train on a homeward track.
There’s nothing there to call me back.
No love ever bid me stay in town.
No block back there is hallowed ground.
Nobody really asked me to go away
But nobody has missed since that day.
Home was just an address
And not something in my heart.
Not something I longed for
When we were many miles apart.
There are few good memories or ghosts
Just a long history of mysteries at most.
It wasn’t that people threw rocks at me
But there were no going away parties.
It was more like, “You’re leaving? Goodbye.”
A zip code full of staunchly dry eyes.
I don’t know what I expected it to be
But, that was not my choice for reality.
Home was never a place
I rushed back to at night
And even as a young kid
I was sure that wasn’t right.
I run through an inventory of events
And I did not betray any friends.
I didn’t steal or tell big lies
But didn't collect pals after may tries.
Something must have happened to me
That made me standoffish naturally
For people to not recall I was there.
So I left and then nobody much cared.
Home was just an address
And not something in my heart.
Not something I longed for
When we were many miles apart.
Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 5:02 AM UTC
My god, you've finally done it.
I'm lost for words.
Me! Lost for words!
Words have always been my friends,
My tools,
Working for me when they would work for no one else.
I'd pluck perfect prose out of the air before me
Words curling luxuriously like cats around my writing hand
They seemed standoffish to others
But I was the Cat-whisperer of creative composition
My magic was language
I have personified pain
Allegorised anger
Sensationalised sadness
But when it comes to your love
I must use the words of another
For I cannot heave my heart into my mouth.
Why?
I want to give you the gift of my words,
For they are the only thing I have left to give,
My heart was always yours, even before we knew
How well we fit.
When talking on any other subject
I find it hard to stop
But when it comes to you,
My silver tongue turns to lead
Because you are the one thing I cannot articulate
How can I explain that when I look up to the sky I search for the colour of your eyes but I can never find it
That falling in love with you was like falling in love with a sunset
That the way you look at me feels as if, for the first time, I am a girl worth writing a story about.
People have put these sentiments into much better words than I ever could
And I love you always seemed enough before
But how can that crescendo of emotion I feel-
And the constant gentle waves that lap the seashores of my mind,
For what is love if only felt in passion not in anger-
Be summarised in three short words?
You know me.
I like to compartmentalise,
Categorise,
Have a name and a meaning for everything I do,
A consolation prize from society-
Sure you're weird, but others are too,
From my sexuality to my star sign
My life is neatly noted
With post its and labels
An explanation for everything
An Oxford dictionary definition for anyone who sticks around long enough to care
I like to pretend I don't do it
But I do.
You were the first person to make me realise:
There are some things
Beyond language.
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 2:23 PM UTC
Cats make me laugh, the selfish gits,
They prowl through life, not taking ****
We humans are just staff, to them,
Our independent feline friends,
Standoffish, surly and downright rude,
Very fussy with their food,
They change their minds just like the wind,
Very often gourmet food is binned,
And then they stalk into 'their' house,
And disembowel some poor mouse,
There is one thing you must never oughta,
Try to wash your cat in soapy water,
The outraged cat will then go wild,
You will then know the devils child,
On the coldest the winter nights,
Cat approaches, purring, right?
Jumps on your lap with kneading paws,
But one false move, you'll feel their claws,
You can never ever own a cat,
They own you, now that's a fact,
Our intelligence they have surpassed,
They've worked out how to lick their ****
One thing deserves a generous pardon,
They at least crap in neighbours gardens,
I cannot help respect these beings,
I'd never wish to hurt their feelings,
And so I for one will doff my hat,
Towards our Royal highnesses , the cat.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 5:41 PM UTC
a self inflicted isolation
all to avoid the confirmation
that I simply don't belong
a lonely standoffish girl
forced into a community world
silently screaming 'this is wrong!'
the future isn't worth the shame
no ones even asked my name
and it would be weeks before
they'd notice I've gone
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 5:56 PM UTC
I am tired and confused
Insecure and self-abused.
I am awkward. I am shy.
I am goofy, I am dry.
I am grateful, overjoyed.
I am selfish and annoyed.
I am clumsy. I am lazy.
I am laid back. I am crazy.
I am loyal. I’m betrayed.
Sensitive and so afraid.
I’m uncomfortable and lonely.
I am real. I am phony.
I am overstimulated.
I am loving. I am hated.
I am overwhelmed and stressed.
I’m anxious and depressed.
I am ugly. I am sad.
I am innocent. I’m bad.
I am cautious, disappointed.
I’m standoffish and disjointed.
I am curious and caring.
I am strange and overbearing.
I’m mysterious and pained.
A free spirit and contained.
I am sick and I’m distracted.
****** and unattractive.
I am angry I am friendly.
I am boisterous and deadly.
I am laughing. I am crying.
I am funny. I am dying.
I am trapped and I am free.
I’m ****** up, but I am me.
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 5:21 PM UTC
I traverse these curses
like a standoffish simile
writing i still luv u, k? to metaphors torn
between your reality and
mine.
The simple pirouette of "less is more"
Is itself a palimpsest
When you are you.
My deep divers fail to resurface. Truth.
Instead of being alongside you --
Apart yet with you --
I am stupidly fixed on
being all the way inside you --
Bodies twisted and twisting,
as your thighs ride into hips, and
mine into necks,
gaunt, spent, hung.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 1:15 PM UTC
There's something to be said about a whole lotta nothin',
but I'm not about to say it.
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 1:13 AM UTC
There was always this girl
She would sit across the room
It's not like she would twirl
Or give off this swirl
But I always found myself
Looking over at her
People would talk to her
Commonly, but she would keep to herself
For the most part
And she was indeed pretty
But that in itself
Wasn't what drew my gaze
She had this...air
About her, you see
I never was able to define
Quite what it was
I saw it in the way she walked
Her voice in the way she talked
I was how she carried herself
It's that air...that grace
That's what drew in my stare
She was just simply divine
But that air carried something else
I could feel...loneliness
She walked everywhere alone
Commonly on her phone
In class she always acted on her own
I just felt that there was something more
She seemed like an abandoned cat
No.... She was more like a kitty
She wasn't that violent or standoffish
And she's more calm than an acrobat
She seemed to strive towards independence
That's what drew in my stare
It reminded me of...myself
Maybe that's why I saw loneliness
We both stood our ground
And helped others around
And I too act on my own
Unlike her, however, I don't shine
I'm too much of a rusted robot
I never was able to understand
What others feel
I only look at necessity
What I currently need
Nothing else mattered
My stare was by chance
Then grew to curiosity
Now I can no longer conceal
My newfound confusion
That girl across the room
I can see her dance
Only in my head
She still din't twirl
Nor did she give off a swirl
She's just an ordinary person
Nothing special nothing else
Certainly superior to myself
We rarely walked with each other
We rarely talked with each other
Where did this come from?
What was mere chance
Turned into a feeling I knew nothing of
I now feel love
And I want to move this plot
I need to rise above
Anything to have her look at this robot
For my gaze has turned into a daze
Please I want you to take my hand
And let me stand by your side
I don't want to be outside
And no I don't want to be inside
By Your Side
For you have filled my my heart
And have given me a new start
But you are still that girl across the room
The girl who is pretty
The girl who isn't awkward
The girl who seems lonely
The girl who only dances in my eye
You still haven't returned my stare
I know why
You are a kitty
We remain independent
I'm just staring at my doom
I don't care
I won't leave you abandoned
I will find a way
I will rise above that lie
I will eventually get you to see me
My newfound wish
For this Kitty and this robot
To meet under the light
To prove love's might
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 5:18 PM UTC
Jericho, at fourteen
Lifts heavy the light snuggie around his arms
Forgets some of the women standoffish with his numbness
Beaten into a craggy duff box
As an old man
Set free every morning in the dream door, sleep as empty and numb
Drowning in light
Out and up from the heights
To the glittering spires of an exalted city
To a raging wildfire slowly snuffing itself out around the edges
Then, a young man learning the back of his head and what people called him
His death then was a shiny new pane of dark frosted plastic
His nights then much organized plastic
Dull as dirt 'neath the evening moon
Each star hungry for sun to give it brilliance, something for us all to forget
His thick toes gun for a thousand
None
Carving his face in the dirt with water
None
Stalling for a long time while away from him
None
Scribbling content hieroglyphics to forget her lying eyes
None
Descending ever deeper, reaching for the nets
That are hopelessly out of her reach
He rubs his fingers along the smooth surface of the tumbler once a year
Against hope and hoping against a chance to ignore her face
And he won't eat anymore from the split pig
And stay in the oxygen town and stay awake for weeks at a time
As if the hoot owl didn't have enough songs to sing.
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC
PAINLESSLY PASSED ON
With the world watching a virtuous soul is now presented, porous as a sponge blindly absorbing life
Simple cause taken on without the applause ,not self seeking but more a fellowship of thinking
helping others to decrease a possible pressure ,naturally obligated by their own inward beauty hiding self righteous strife
Lifes progression played as simple evolution ,also reasoning with simple goodness coming naturally with no blinking
Many brought into redemption even before conception, playing life as a parable will be good for their soul
They build natural wealth by not showing favor. walking tall, facing forward taking a stand while not being standoffish
Fellows with friendship easily find kinship in what mutual aid there is to give away ,freely taking on any role
Normal folks with nominal means paying penance , providing blindly for others ,giving rather than being selfish
Humans acting coarsely can be part of the picture ,further testing each others humanity
While many of us show promise & always perpetuate common courtesies ,fewer show perfection with gratitude
without showing An outward goal not freely recognizing their basic role not to become enveloped in the vanity
Not blind but with blinders ,risking without being risque governing of their morality is now their internal attitude
Always having lived in a spiral ,the living sphere the bountiful bowl adjusting ,making room , to arise above the gloom
Not anointed,never seeking personal gain but truly absorbing fellow peoples pain,passing it on in a progression of kindhearted folk
Simple as an up front demeanor paying a cost for freedom ,karma ,day by day ,pay to stay ,sweeping ALL the corner to sleep in the room
Melding fortunes of anonymous humanity is brick by brick helping good fortunes stick ,solid marks on humanity they did invoke. R.C
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 12:47 AM UTC
The Storm Siren Theory is thus:
There are persons whose very presence can bring forth the storm within your soul, their own hearts constructed and built from lightning bolts, that blue gray that can only be described as eerie and deathly and beautiful, and humid winds that make your coat billow behind you as though it'll take you far, far away from that mindset that's slowly destroying you.
And even in the darkest depths of your mind or your calm,
They'll call upon the rains within your veins
And they'll touch parts of you that you've long buried and long forgotten.
They come as destructive tsunamis
That destroy you entirely and force you rebuild yourself into some halfhearted something,
Or they come as necessary hurricanes,
That blow through and show you things you've never known,
Whether it be through destruction or rebirth.
It is up to you to be thirsty ground,
Anxiously awaiting your chance to be given a glimpse at this way of life,
Or to be prepared for what chaos it will bring.
I never said I'd be calm/able
I only ever said I'd be here/stable
And I trust you to make me love the rain again,
Because I'll open up to you the parts
That were burned into ashes at the hands of others,
And maybe something better will grow out of my vulnerability
Than ever grew out of being cold and standoffish.
I don't want to love a storm-chaser,
But somehow you found it in you
To love the siren behind the churning clouds.
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 11:46 AM UTC
It is difficult to express emotion;
to society, I appear standoffish.
I keep my feelings locked securely;
they are safer in a bottle.
Whether to comfort a friend with soothing words
or partake in cries of delight,
weak and bruised with invisible scars
strangled by fear; my emotions continue to hide.
Frequently with the crack of a smile, the lid is ajar.
As an emotion slowly rises over the edge
other emotions start to rush to the surface,
I mentally take hold; firmly tightening the cover.
A gentle hand is needed
to loosen the temporary shelter.
Someday I hope to open that bottle
and let the emotions flow.
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 6:23 PM UTC
Does it not
Feel for the standoffish
Does it not
Stand for the forgotten
Does it not
Ban all that forgotten
Does it call when the man drops his call
Bonds will be broken
Time is woven
The last steps are the same we all have choices
Oct 25, 2024
Oct 25, 2024 at 11:59 PM UTC
you are absolutely ridiculous
i love it
you act like some tough, cruel, serious guy,
and then you draw a little cat with boots on a paper we shared.
it made me giggle.
which is rare these days.
you act so standoffish,
but really?
you're adorable.
i love it when:
-you break your serious demeanor to laugh at my childish joke
-you draw little animals all over my papers
-i see you looking at me when you don't think I'm paying attention
-when i steal your hoodies and all you do is laugh and say i look cute
-you lean on my shoulder during classes
-or play with my hair
it's not normal to fall this quickly,
but i think i could love you.
Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 7:27 PM UTC
"Alone in my city"
It is a silent night
I'm Standing out here on a reddish black lavander,
I'm Lonely and lights are creepy bimming,
The pleasant breeze of Gikondo
Are smelling like blossoming roses,
And i glance at the scattered
Low glimming lights of Nyamirambo,
And eye a surreal joyful avalanche.
I grab my phone and start swinging
around the front balcony,
recording my voice singing one of dualipa's songs,
My voice sounds ridiculous
and i hate it,maybe i have
to train it out In the rain.
And i'm Longing to dance like no one is watching,
Because nobody's around for me,
It makes me feel bored and anxious,
And i can't help but lock all the doors
And every familiar window,
my white short,brownish black jumper
and dark red nike sketchers are ready
i need to step out for a while,
And have an ounce wander down my city.
Hot teens of my age are here,
I'm not standoffish,i do some cares,
Beautiful girls with black hairs
and pile black eyes are wandering here,
With skinny ripped jeans
fitting their big sized hips
And my eyes can't help but stuck on
Their cleavage and woow silently,
My city is really too serene and surreal.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 2:39 AM UTC