"subtracted" poems
Ash to mouth
divide north and south
east and west,
shout with class of Scout
let it out with griffin clout
we here we out , hear me out
— rhymes in time without
silent shrines to mime
cleared the crowd
covered eyes and mouth
over body desert shroud
if vengeance is your business
then from swords to plow
en lakesh
an eye for an eye binds
the all to be blind
but you can’t unsee the signs
no thoughts unclouded by loss
out the window I toss
mosaic fragments that cost
health and awesome sauce
Nazareth gutted commandments
by anarchy spelled
disaster after culture
massive ego it swell
up the road ahead a pit depress the juncture
so we spit the dirt divide just to touch the other
from pup to wolf so many bites, a pitted puncture
so much disfunct the fight till all be winded lungs sir
you can run
but from
gamma ray
you no hide
passed a black hole
wand inside
a body died
but it’s alright
(it’s heaven sight
till Zombie night )
animate dead necromantic black ring
the rhythm of life and death a chronic swing
the pendulum blade cross over cosmic skin
consciousness draw out from within
traced the win which wound round tat to skeleton
a dusty tome bound and crafted man
medicine subtracted by the head that spin
in the sky and its happening, blessen-ings
the miracle is mystery u cant guess it
talking 3 eye see
talking vip
climb high as canopy
walking so
my shadow lands under me.
ten toes touch to the dusty roads
when toads appear throats close
mighta had the Midas touch
still the golden one
was too much to flush
you might live in Laos
you my livid crowd
you might live it now
neva hit my limit how
cause you live in now
when you wake up proud
timid mind plowed
divid-dine fill the cloud
insta crowd wowed
this I vowed
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 7:59 PM UTC
I cannot,
Absolutely cannot,
Add a single moment to my life by worrying!
In fact...if I were to worry my mind to the point of stress I could perhaps subtract myself.
I could,
Absolutely could,
Subtract myself from this life by worrying!
Therefore, I musn't worry my mind.
Even if in the next moment I were subtracted life it shan't be from worrying.
Tis' better to go quietly than with a whimper.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 7:36 PM UTC
I've been in love
(or thought I was)
twice now
and I'm only
twenty years old.
I've spent my entire life
practicing the art
of letting go
and I lost track of
my losses
because I've never
been good with
numbers.
I have
added,
subtracted,
divided
and solved
my way back
to you
countless of times
and this is how
I know I am
no good at math.
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 1:21 PM UTC
crimson and magic
to splash without panic
in waves of compliance
for drugs made from science
and sorceress who summon the simple solutions
illusions! illusions!
of grander worth loosing
confusing the process will aid not for coptic
nor catholic
or elsewhere semantics
act frantic in panic
to sob without reason
treason! say treason!
the exit of reason
to wander in wander a fate beyond yonder
set ponder a path set by mind on the map
of solutions and systems
domestic conditions
yet wild apparitions
appear as conditioned - concerns
to a mindset as stern and subtracted
by fractions of actions repulsed by distraction
disgruntled reactions
supposing contractions
created the action
conceived from distractions
The reasons
let change be for seasons
while i stay the rock in the pond
either frozen not gone
as the watcher
still watching
content upon watching
exhaling the notion
that motions for movement
atonement! atonement!
with further consolement
atlas like the breeze of the gavel
let both parties ravel and tug
whether free or debugged
only mind over matter
unscrambles the lather
too see that is free
is like blind sight at sea
with the waves of conforming
to drown is informing
if not then be peace !
for all parties deceased
by a water so deep you could drown in your sleep
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 11:16 PM UTC
A poet is not perfect although some claim to be
Scribblers of thought watchers of humanity
Pen every emotion fill it with devotion
Ride waves of passion chaotic like the ocean
A poet is not perfect with more than eyes we see
What's hidden what lies between prophecy
Future unfolding the past we keep holding
Now keeps rolling do you remember where you're going?
A poet is not perfect hmm what does this mean?
From life experience write a scene
Words forever blending combinations never ending
Translation of thought keeps message sending
A poet is not perfect neither is humanity
Speakers of truth live on edge of sanity
Recognize what's broken book wide open
Read between lines multiply the hoping
A poet is not perfect many strive to be
Most fall victim to vanity
Born reactive to the attractive
Divided emotion feeling subtracted
A poet is not perfect or what you might think
One universal mind flowing in sync
Alarm goes off wake from sleep
Piece together broken with perfect poetry we speak...
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 6:24 PM UTC
Gaining wisdom,
Listening to Mos Def
Not to be boxed in by the quadrant of the bass clef,
Because I like the melodies of the treble.
If Eye am to live a life to be confined, then call me a rebel.
Letting out all that was repressed
Counting blessings instead of stresses
Picking up messes &
Preparing for the test
To invest in myself,
in you
~
Diving below the depths to see what's true~
The interest accrues
But there's no use -
in paying these taxes to factions
When they should be subtracted from the equation
For exacerbating trivial situations
til we see the answer is One
You have the control, a full mind\body/soul collaboration
Sort out ya chakras and rebuild your nation
Plant seeds and reverse the deforestation
Let creativity fill your wounds and be captivated by fascination
Follow your own soul
Guided by sensation
Close your eyes and breathe, if ya need, some quick elation
...Away from frustration or the contemplation on the
"right" choice.
Just share your innermost genuine voice,
Keep the soil moist,
& the stem strong in order to stay poised
Lose the armor
For you are formless
In a state of vulnerability,
We are never dormant
But rather, open to the occupants
that we can't even see
Let your heart explode with love and you'll know what it's like to be free.
Don't open up though, and we'll be doomed to repeat
Be not afraid to call upon the Youniverse
Disperse what you rehearsed
before your vessel is within another in the confines of a hearse.
Weird to hear, but we can't wait for one more day.
It could be anyone's last grain of sand,
So by all means,
Say what you have to say~
You have a gift,
& It's called the present
Living with the ability to lift,
and make others' lives pleasant.
Muster every ounce of love and drift,
Right into another's essence
You hold the power in your hands, reach out~
..You'll never go hungry..
Giving vital lifeforce to those experiencing drought
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 7:51 PM UTC
i must tell you of this curse
that's intertwined in every verse
magnets compel, repel, and foretell
it doesn't matter if you are well
you'll always be attracted
div-yd, divided, and subtracted
resisting an instinctual urge
to give your everything, to splurge
call it north, call it south
but the words slip out of your mouth
your heart will be drawn-in
hopeless, head over heels spin
laced, maced, even some space
you can't resist that face
heaven, hell, or whatever you believe
it's stronger than we can possibly conceive
time out... time in!
how did this begin?
a chemical reaction
a little bit of passion
that just rushed in...
Jun 7, 2012
Jun 7, 2012 at 2:03 PM UTC
I was once convinced
Everything would
work itself out.
Every problem had a solution
Every fixation, an axis
Every point? purposeful.
Certainly time was an equation.
Solving the question of final age
was merely the addition of years
and the subtraction of moments
our vices swallowed.
Everything was orderly.
Numbers in a row.
Empty boxes, waiting to be checked.
DNA strands coiled ceremoniously
into my exact composure
worried about me so I wouldn't have to.
Days flaking off like dandruff,
unsightly flecks of fragility,
floating toward irreversible fate.
I would live until I wouldn’t.
I would teeter
...skid
....careen
through hours, anxiously awaiting
never taking a breath to rest and reflect.
Death was algebra.
I was subtracted from morality,
added it back as fatality.
Evening out- solving for X,
My many quaking days
having lost their grip.
~
Life is not math.
Life is trash recycled into sporadic moments that won't last.
Simplicity was never synonymous
To consciousness.
Sentient beings will always suffer.
Words will never suffice
When the feelings are out of place.
Attempts at descriptive narrative
only feel like a forced hand,
a poor play.
My slippery fingers are arthritic,
clutching at the vapors
of moments before mistakes.
I've never kept anything I loved.
I have ****** out of hate
more than I have out of lust.
I was always what I wanted to be
never was what I needed to be
And when desire ran dry
I always settled in the dust of desolate decisions.
The bell curve never helped with my grades
And this learning curve can’t help me find my place.
C.e.M. Aug. 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 6:24 PM UTC
It is still warm, the place where you had laid,
Still filled with the lingering blush of life and gifted with your smell,
Something that is so completely yours that sometimes if I close my eyes I can pretend you had never left,
I can pretend that for another moment you were mine.
That I didnt have to return you to the world where others also loved you,
Where there are other pieces that fit your puzzle of life,
Different kinds of love, not subtracted from your character but rather a part of who you are,
Family.
Sometimes in these moments with your scent still in the air and the room full of your presense, I become selfish for your love alone,
Almost envious of those whom get to experience you an all your greatness,
All the myrid of things that make you the beautiful person that you are.
But then when all of the envy, and selfish thoughts have run their course like all thoughts do,
I remember all the things we do,
What brought your scent to linger in a cooling bed,
What allowed your presense to fill my space,
And I no longer feel the loss of you so strong,
Because not long before, you where in my arms,
As you sure are to be again when the chill of my loneliness begins again.
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 10:52 AM UTC
in my mother's basement
once upon a time she tied up a clothes line
though most of the time
the line
was used to hang up
hangers
precariously hooked to a rope becoming less taut
as the years go on
the paradox of garage sale hand-me-downs of broken homes
as bodies for clothes become subtracted they make room for memories
we grow heavier by
as the hangers continue to multiply unused
clothes hangers are sacred
they are ghost as zygotes
back then there were days
I would wear my woven leather belt for an inverted neck tie
on those days
tie the other end to the wooden cross supports in the basement ceiling
then tip-toeing up
on a beat-up old stool
play chicken
a game of chicken with nobody
a side of extra mc chicken sauce for the soul
I wonder now
how if anyone would've wondered
if I had died never really learning how to wear a belt
or how to properly tie a neck-tie
kids today wear their pants too low
and parents back then were way too given to involuntary penance
to up the ante
I would write a list on the wooden beams in the ceiling
each time I got up there
for all the reasons I got up there
in attempt to embellish the exit sign
singing ugly duckling swan song echo
sedated by the attempt
training wheels for Icarus syndrome
it wasn't that my youth was in disillusion
I just never really learned how to measure distance properly
a pair of breaking parents
an unwanted pregnancy
"What's with in arms' reach?"
a game of catch
a game of release
a flight of stairs in one step
"it's not your fault kid
but you're gonna have to get hurt anyway"
funny how when you are teetering on stoic infinity
balanced like an idle pendulum
a noose becomes a life-support system
dance like no one is watching
I don't play those games anymore
my bones have gotten too heavy to bet against
memories I still wish to change
knees too weighted to two-step the precipice
on weekends
and since practicing how to use my legs again
and again
I now prefer walking this earth
wearing my belt around my equator
over drawstrings around my neck
the basement has since been renovated
no more wooden crosses
exposed in the ceiling
I don't play childish games anymore
I just do my laundry there
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 3:32 PM UTC
Last night communing with the,
much more than anything,
but still not quite,
echoing in worlds beyond this one,
if it pierces,
empties out carefully
What is it that is never quite,
intact or playfully,
ask the sages to reconsider,
paths to the sun,
Wonderful it will be to reach,
apexed or transcedent,
finger tips dusty or removed,
which is the endpoint subtracted,
faces that are familiar,
but are no more,
bottle green,
they are everything but sad,
dowsed in caffeine again,
heart is drowning in,
stolen courage,
the day passes away,
lost and fragmented.
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 12:30 PM UTC
See,
The problem with today is that you are the children that were slaves
To that textbook
See,
The problem with today is that the men are ingrained with the need to feel enraged at
Everything
And that very same textbook and that teacher that sent you elsewhere taught you, somehow, that you are just acting through your genetically inherited tendencies
See,
They taught you that once upon the great time
'before'
The outlandish and fairly out of context concept that we were,
Animals
But to every woman who has ever been mated by a man who thinks dominance is the answer,
I remind you,
YOU ARE NOT AN ANIMAL
You never have been, and you never will be
You are a soul who has a blind date with destiny
and if anyone ever tries to be, offensively bigger than me, I have full faith that my faith, will guide and protect me, to mutual clarity
And through the limitations of a structure that assures everyone they will see the stage and hear their name over the loud speaker in a Coliseum full of restless siblings and great grandparents,
they taught us that,
The 'Winners' found 'Fame'
And identified 'Degrees' as 'Security'
but the reality that the black hole created while trying to keep your head above the surface was just another stress to jot down in the
textbooks
But the textbooks my son reads won't contain the fallacies of the commentated beliefs of ignorant injustice that subtracted art and theater and replaced it with
"Facts"
You see,
A fact is simply a point that has yet to be falsified and I promise you that if you give it time,
no child of mine
Will forget,
that he can prove me wrong,
because I give him
the freedom to express it
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 1:37 AM UTC
Objectual attachments to material things
cars and gold and shiney rings
The less you have, the more its apparent
that these possesions leave you incoherant
Unresponsive to change
comfy in ignorance
humans are quite strange
Externally subtracted
its a fatal attraction
Internally is where we thive
looking through the minds eye
Over and through
Im done with the lies
pluralized and despised
making money that makes you cry
When you dont have enough to get by
it can be really tough
trying to eat like a heath food nut
Real soul food is love and trust
and the persuit of Happyness
from a life lived with less.
Dec 17, 2011
Dec 17, 2011 at 5:25 PM UTC
Nobody likes ugly
Cracked pills
Shackled head
Pushed down
To give you head
It's me you see
That used to be
Happy and free
But now I have added
And you have subtracted
On my resume
Good is gone
Bad has begun
Nobody likes ugly
And I am very
Very Beautiful on the outside
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 6:35 AM UTC
Once upon a time
At a middle school
They decided
That we didn't need
48 minutes
Of lunch
(Even
Though
We
Do)
And now we have
LS
(Which stands for
Learning Seminar)
((Even
Though
We
Never
Learn
anything))
And they
Sneakily
Subtracted
Eighteen
Minutes
From
Teen
Wolves
Shoveling
Food into
Their mouths
To sit
Quietly
In a room
And read.
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 10:54 AM UTC
His beautiful complexity is difficult,
Confuses me; my neurotic inner child
Wants to be beaten or serenaded,
It doesn't understand many-layered things;
His whispered confidences, less alienating
Than others, made me trust too soon,
And his atoms, more colorful than
His brothers painted-on coats.
My being turns all around his center;
My wheels to his drum,
My arc to his sun,
Laughter when he's coming,
Cries when he's gone-
Till I'm reduced-
Subtracted-
Done.
Jun 30, 2010
Jun 30, 2010 at 11:46 AM UTC
I'd wanted to see the moon again –
Pockmarked and ivory, entering and
Innuendo, like crisp leaves under foot;
“Crunch, crunch, crunch,” and so went
The cereal before sog. Parallel, the same
Suffering’s smeared come my bones
Under foot, under cloud and ‘ever as I’d
wander empty if even with you. You've
Turned back and continue to study,
“Away.”
I'd wanted to see the moon again -
Come the scent of fried wantons and
Neon glance; “Crackle, crackle,
Crackle,” like hot dogs over fires, only
Hindered, the hiss of a boy’s tears atop
Flame, so long as I'd understand empty,
If only with you. But your two’s atop
His lips, a smear upon the line we call,
“Horizon,” and so continues, this study
Of, “away.”
And I'd never see the moon again – So
Silence became the sun, a blight, a
Bright, the, “shiny,” I'd wish banned;
Like the eerie, like the day dad’d packed
His bags or day he'd finally died; If only
To accept this solitude, miasma
Subtracted you, with everything else,
But emptied you. An impasse atop
Endeared eidetic, as I’ll try and I’ll
Recall and I’ll fail, this test to finally
Forget.
So I’d rest with an, “F,” he’d rest in
An urn and you’d rest, simply rest, at the
Top of your class, without fault, and a
Graduate, your study of, “away.”
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 10:25 AM UTC
November 4th, 2011, 12:57am.
I 'like' myself.
I like my eyes,
How they resemble a forest
After the rain,
But I don't like how they get red and bloodshot
Whenever I cry:
A forest fire
That's out of my control.
I like my hands,
How they can create art out of nearly anything,
But I don't like how they are covered
In scars
Made by pencils and pens and words that were too sharp.
I like my legs,
How they are strong,
Dependable,
A best friend,
But I don't like how they're stretched out,
Or how they rub together,
Or the way they jiggle when I walk.
I like my arms,
How there are constellations of freckles buttered over my skin,
But I don't like how no matter how hard I try,
I can't seem to pull myself up
Off the cold,
Concrete ground.
I like my hair,
How it trickles down like a waterfall,
Into the valley known as
The small of my back
But I don't like how it's made up of split ends
From staying in the hot shower for way too long
Dreading the morning sun.
Nevermind.
Maybe I don't like myself.
March 31st, 2015, 3:00am.
It has been a long road.
I have crashed
Gotten back up patched.
Added and subtracted
The Weight
The Clothes
The Hair
The Makeup
To get my answer
To a complex math problem;
A complex life problem
That I'm sure you've all encountered
On that one pop quiz
From the first day of school
That you took before they even knew your name.
#1. "What do they all think about me?"
#100. "Do I like myself?"
And with all I've experienced
And learned through self love and so
Much
Patience,
My answer is this:
I don't like myself,
I ******* love myself
And I hope you can all learn to do the same
Because nobody deserves to be caught under their own shadow of
Self Doubt.
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 1:41 PM UTC
My women:
As I lay here and stare at the ceiling
I can't help but to get this feelin
To display some sort of affection
To the mirror image of perfection
That lay beside me tht I call my queen
Queen u might ask ?
Well that cuz she deserve it!
I mean she endured it better yet ignored it
Frivolous mind games and ********
I tried to pull off
And to wht cost when all tht was lost was the trust she had built up from a foundation
When there was no wrong answer to the (U + ME = "US") equation
Then there was the separation
where we both flirted w/different temptations
Moving aimlessly w/o a particular path
Actions not adding up even when using the simplest math
U see cuz we added selfishness and stubbornness
Then subtracted the forgiveness
Multiplied by the bitterness
Which left us divided due to the pettiness
Well when all thts factored out wht will be the solution
Could this relationship be restored or is tht just an illusion
With all the problems we have already endured
Can this disease called "Being Apart" be cured
U know b/c I don't know if u may have heard but I have really matured and I will not be ignored
I Stood my ground I let out an sigh of relief
Not knowing her reaction I began to tremble like a leaf
She came close and looked me square in my eye
As she began to speak her voice quivered as if she was going to cry
"Y can't I get rid of u" -"It's b/c of U the reason why I act the way I do"
"But my love for u can fill an ocean
The affection we share fuels my devotion"
"I'm under a spell and u are the potion
But don't write this off as going through the motions
When I am bubbling over w/emotions"
"So don't use are fondest memories as a tool to continue being cruel with the end result of me standing there being your fool or even worst the subject of ridicule"
As she explained her point of view I couldn't help but to think
How I could just let something go as quick as an eye can blink
But her love for me out weighed all the bad
And it was sad cuz whenever I did things to make her mad all I could do in response was say my bad.
Why am I so lucky to have her in possession and do I really deserve this angel of mine? - is the real question
But I learned my lesson
Matter of fact I have a confession
I feel like you in my life is a blessing
How this relationship has endured the ups and downs was really something
And sooner than you think matrimony is comin but for now it's pleasure having u as My Women
By: @mr_p3rsonality
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 10:07 AM UTC
forget not words, body
thy soul is
and
hair fantastically ; more unsquare
than an angle
measurable. Not
A
number
,
a
S
H
a
pE divisble
or an exact
adding of some subtracted
arithmetical wholeless
singular substitution. (your
mouth
is
a
quiet
groove
of
darkest
earth
)where
innumerably
grows
the
destroying colour
of infinite flower
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC
Workers jump to your hoses
Poets jump to your pens
The men with guns are sure to jump
Before the crisis ends
They subtracted from 8 million stories
For the glory of one
Attacked innocents
Retrained our eyes to comb the distance
For incidents involving incendiary elements
An attack with no relevance
Just bullies stuffing our will
Into the locker of remembrance
Nothing to fear when space is still darker
Nothing to fear when the sun is still hotter
The Earth will turn the darkness
Over their heads
The light will make it
City of Martyrs
Never a truer hero than time
Who fights for our honor.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 10:28 PM UTC
There are crafts of countless drafts on this blank page,
accounts of my days of happiness or rage are on this blank page,
hinted goals and affirmations are blueprinted on this blank page,
look and you shall find that my mind roars it's thoughts unfiltered on this blank page,
Behold a story begins to unfold on this blank page.
Ink jives it's hips, thrives in it's own motions and clicks it's fingers in rhythm to the writers melody that lingers,
In order to transcribe what you're trying to describe to the mass of one or many on this blank page,
Sentences are redacted,
subtracted from the line of sight equating to something that now means nothing,
Why?
It could be a mistake,
a misfire of the message I attempted to make,
thinking I had it locked and loaded,
Ready to shoot it across this blank page,
Or...
It could be that I find it unnecessary to reveal deep parts of me,
So...
I become hell bent on destroying any trace that may possibly leave my scent in this blank page,
The land of doodles,
far and wide is it's reach,
with the population consisting of ...
stick-mankind,
Talking poodles,
Confetti filled with noodles,
Whatever you can think of is there in this blank page.
On this blank page I stare deep into it's void and wonder....
What shall we do today ?
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 4:38 AM UTC
The tragedy's over, it's finite.
But it's still tragedy, it's infinite.
A single action multiplied through all of reality.
Two lives subtracted from this universe indefinitely.
One, deemed slightly odd, just wanted to get even
Emotions compounded, suspending all reason.
The other in a more integral union
Now leaving a remainder with no solution.
But regardless of identities, what's the difference
when actions like these have a sequence?
A series of lives lost;
Lost to the shell method
With empty shells bouncing on the floor
The death toll adding up more and more.
As a country, what is our limit?
what constitutes a significant digit?
We hear about tragedies with such frequency
we think "it won't happen to me".
And that might be the root of these events,
A mindset of disconnect.
That our lives all run parallel...but only until they intersect.
But the hole in that theory is that we're already in a universal set.
If we integrated that thought into the way we live
We might have less families asking "iff"
Because that might be a tragedy on par:
Living as if our neighbors are imaginary parts.
So, let's shift our prime focus from our own simple interest
Before its outcome produces absolute divergence.
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 10:39 PM UTC