"suffocatingly" poems
Hummingbird whispers
Hang in the air
I sit alone with a daz-ed stare
Alone, but voices all around
They suffocatingly surround
I hear hums of hospitals
And whispers of home
I don't speak hummingbird!
I scream in the air
Just leave me alone
And let me drown
Drown in my black cloud filled with rain
This skin is numb and craves only pain
They stand there glancing with sideways eyes
Speaking their language
Planning my demise
Don't they understand?
I want only one thing
To erase the black cloud by filling it with pain
Pain, I can handle, pain, I understand
This black, numbing cloud makes no sense to me
If I could just be left alone to cut it free!
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 1:23 AM UTC
It's a pity about the posies,
All ashen and planet-like, controlling
The leftover rubber bits of love
Erasing emotions of waking up warm with her
Solemnly slumbering form
When we pluck those mornings and sink our teeth into them.
And
Their wavy stems ballet up from the earth
Blooming into fragile pink tufts like *******
But now their fragrances tell jokes
Without the punchlines:
Long narratives ultimately pointless.
(The priests and rabbis come to you from their bars
Collars choking and tallit suffocatingly wrapped round their heads)
And
The snake,
Slithering from thousands of years of pop culture
Roots himself in the apple orchards
To hide the answers in her *******
And
Dairy farms grow up from there
And their milk runs down your sloppy chin
And in your teeth as you violently suckle
And in the tangled paths of your veins as you
Ask yourself why you even bother trying
When enslaved by a free world
.
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 12:18 AM UTC
It's much quieter around here
in these once conversational rooms
and in the crackling fireplace
that was lit
to keep our shivering bones warm
It's much colder around here
without the sparks flying between us
and no wandering wondering hands
to keep us smiling
It's much lonelier around here
where the only other hands here
are the ones reflected in the mirror
made up in its shattered pieces
that scatter the floor boards
Shattered and Scattered
Sounds sadly familiar
With red lip stick,
the mirror's edge kisses my hand
then my chest
my stomach
and thighs
and bites playfully at my neck
You loved this colour on me,
you'd once said
But maybe it was the wrong dress?
This one fits me much tighter
almost suffocatingly
to my skin
it flows nicely
Maybe now you'll take me back
into your cold, stiff arms
I'll join you for dinner tonight
in my flowing red dress.
Sep 21, 2011
Sep 21, 2011 at 9:55 AM UTC
I’m done, throwing in the towel
The whole world is out to get me
Why can’t things just be easy?
I feel like I’m caged
Behind work, attendance, and grades
Suffocatingly overwhelmed,
Pushed, broken, and bound
To the degree I need
They say, to succeed
But should any degree,
Be worth my sanity
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 9:10 PM UTC
The smell of cherries,
Rich, tangy, sweet,
Like syrup dripping down through my water,
Leaving my lungs filled with nauseatingly, gorgeous pink,
Outside the window’s damp metallic screen.
It pulls my eyes out,
Leaving across the city,
Dark and screaming as it is.
Screaming to be worth something,
To be known,
And all we are is above, in the clouds.
Pink, suffocatingly high,
All around us the air sings,
And I am choking,
Colliding with the atmosphere,
The heart envelops the mind,
I am here again,
All metal.
Waking nightmare,
The smell of cherries.
May 2, 2021
May 2, 2021 at 7:17 PM UTC
Nightmares are always there
Behind my eyes, everywhere.
They are not fictional;
Nor are they mystical.
They have no dungeon-lair.
Nightmares each time I sleep
In my mind, they lurk and creep.
Suffocatingly real;
Non-fiction ordeals.
Too much to bear, awake I weep.
Jan 4, 2020
Jan 4, 2020 at 8:16 PM UTC
Inter-wreath souls communicating in silence
Despairing distance just making it more intense
Slow dancing fumes of proximal hazy memory
Flashing lights of the destined future glimmery
Fateful rendezvous of unprepared agitation
Acquiesced drift along the preordained creation
Out of the blue we fell in love,now suffocatingly confined
And why love, the grey shade concealations so refined
With silence, we endowed recentful persuasion
With lectures, we plundered for destined evasion
My love, we lived love for life sustained both
Now we travel opposites as we found loathe
So long, what we came together for
So long, to our ever enjoyed rapture
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 3:08 AM UTC
I was just a tall glass of something you don’t remember ordering.
You thought you wanted someone who would wait around.
You thought you wanted someone who was okay with you running around as long as you came back to them at the end of the day.
Did you enjoy every argument?
Did you enjoy all of the wasted moments that could have been us laying together and tracing each other’s bodies?
I have a whole new body now.
I walk into the room and people pay attention, not because I am loud.
Because I demand it.
I am worthy, and **** good looking.
This cup is dripping with condensation and everybody is out here sweating in this heat.
I look **** good.
But you don’t know this version of me.
I spent so much time trying to blend in and mirror the people around me, you never got the chance to drink me in.
Do you see me now?
Can you taste it?
The taste of regret, metallic on your silver tongue.
Hurt me with your judgements.
Hurt me with your words, but never in the bedroom where I ask that of you.
Coward.
You wanted me to be weak so I would bow to you.
If I EVER bow, you’d better lay a pillow down, knowing that an empress doesn’t belong on the ground.
You looked for me everywhere.
“I like this one’s mouth”
“This one makes good conversation”
“This one does what I ask”
“This one has nice legs”
So stitch them together.
Enjoy your busy life of rushing back and forth from bed to bed and door to door to appease your needs between all of your sally dolls.
None of them will hold a candle to me.
What I bring to the table could feed a nation.
I possess the things that matter;
I even possess the things that don’t.
I’m not for these streets, I’m just in them.
Looking for new avenues.
I become the opportunist and you become lost.
You missed your exit long ago, because you were too busy looking for the gas station with the best price.
Now the road has been winding for miles and miles and there seems to be nothing around.
No sidewalks, no side streets, no signs.
Your gas is approaching E.
It’s suffocatingly humid and it’s getting dark.
You’re thirsty.
Don’t you wish you had that tall glass of water?
It’s not where you left it.
Someone else understood the value of water and gulped it down,
every… last… drop.
They even put their mouth on the cup that was meant for you.
The one you specifically asked for and forgot about.
That person is absolutely satiated.
Wherever you end up, I hope you find a cup and learn to fill it yourself.
The servers are tired and it’s closing time.
~ KD (2023) ©
Feb 4, 2023
Feb 4, 2023 at 12:40 PM UTC
Wading in waters
So suffocatingly deep
Help me, I'm drowning
Jun 30, 2021
Jun 30, 2021 at 12:46 AM UTC
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
This poem is self translated version of my Hindi language poem titled " अपराधबोध" published in pratilipi (Feb. 2019)
Can be read through the link ==>> https://bit.ly/2l4MIXz
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Today all of Sudden, I do remember again
The time that has elapsed since long
The bygone lovely childhood
The yesterday that has passed
The good old childhood friends.
I do remember some blurred faces
whose names, I couldn't recall
I do remember my teachers
Still in the same look and form
I remember their scolding
I remember happiness on their faces
I even remember their angry faces
Their orders to stand up on the bench
Their punishment to pose as a rooster
I do remember now
The essence of their teachings
I followed all their teachings
But I had to suffer a lot
So, I packed them all tied them in a knot
And thrown them all into the trash can.
This is not an allegation against my teachers
That their teachings are not valuable
But, I discovered, I was not capable
To follow their valuable teachings.
In this modern era of practicality
There is no respect for human values
Human values have been deteriorated
Due to changing definitions of the words
The whole dictionary has changed.
I admit I have committed crime against my teachers
Since I left the righteous path shown by them
And followed another easy path on my own
But what else could I have done?
I had no power to change the present era -
I alone do not have the courage to be an era-rebel
So, I gave up the right path and followed another one
But may be, inspite of this
my teacher may forgive me
But can I forgive myself?
No! Not at alI, I don't have this right
After getting pardon from my teacher
The gravity of my crime doesn't decreases
So by the way if my teachers pardon me
Even then, I can't be free
From the guilt
I must have to live
Bit by bit, Suffocatingly
This will be my punishment
Yes, this will be my punishment.
*****
Sep 25, 2019
Sep 25, 2019 at 11:23 AM UTC
can't reacquaint myself with myself
without getting a little dizzy
short of breath just thinking about it
unapologetic, unashamedly
single steady heartbeat stirs the bath
shaking the surface and trembling
submerged and ******* up hot water
looks so suffocatingly appealing
in my head so much it's flooded
thought I'd sink under and float in you
but I'm trying to remind myself:
don't drown yourself in this one too
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 3:06 AM UTC
asking all the questions but the hardest one
- - - - -
when you say you want to cry because you’re sorry, i want to weep because i don’t believe in apologies
- - - - -
the almost blue sky is suffocatingly beautiful. unfamiliar bed and an all too familiar feeling. limbo limbo limbo under this invisible bar;backbending for the small things, the intangible things. like the dark green around your iris, or the slight, instinctual brush against my cheek.giveandtakegiveandtakegiveandtake,give
-i love you
-i can’t answer that truthfully
- - - - -
i walk outside in the dark and there you are, blowing dandelions with your back on the grass, a friend who shows up when i don’t realize i need it
- - - - -
‘you seem like the type of girl who has never had to watch a dream die’
- - - - -
justification for not sleeping: why the **** break a perfectly handsome insomnia streak? also, music.
- - - - -
roofs, cigarettes, porches, cigarettes, satisfyingly self destructive habits, Tom Waits, coffee black as the nicotine inside
- - - - -
or whatever.
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 5:22 AM UTC
I still remember how you looked that January afternoon
The way your hair was after the snow.
The briefest of split seconds- as it landed, before it melted to nothing.
Bitterly cold but suffocatingly warm
The start of something was crisp in the air.
Unfamiliraties and awkwardness melted away with the snow
And something else came and replaced it.
Something infinite and permenant.
Something beautiful.
In that solitary moment we could never have thought it might not quite last forever.
That's why the snow always makes me think of you.
After it all.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 8:58 AM UTC
The sultry summer sun ***** all moisture out of the soil
To leave cracked earth: mini earthquakes
Soil crumbling into choking dust.
Brown lawns say it all.
Suffocatingly hot indoors
And baking outside.
Desert threat.
It’s the height of Summer
And even the wind is suddenly warm
On this humid, balmy day.
Bumble bees buzz about
On my Cotoneasters, Valerians, Geraniums
And Wild Lavatera.
Broken backed Lavatera
From a deluge
The other night.
Rather this close heat
Than the icy blasts of Winter
Better to slumber
In comfort,
Grab a cold beer
And enjoy the Sun.
Paul Butters
© PB 24\6\2023.
Jun 24, 2023
Jun 24, 2023 at 3:46 PM UTC
**** I miss this place!
the words revolve around in my head unable to get out.
cloisters of verses cling begging for a home under a title
and all I can do is shush them into an untimely death in a grave unmarked they dissapear.
my head aches for my heart ,my heart aches for my soul, my soul aches for you.
a quiet discomfort lays its shadow over me
and I many times silenced by my avid and monotonous duty and honour bound work ethic
there are too many good deeds to unravel the twisted life ive lived.
there are too many costs to add up the total devastation
a stagnant pool of I dont give afucks everywhere I turn,
but not here. here there is always a bite of soul
a latching of comeraderie
and of physical expectations muted.
here is only the minds and hearts service
here is the solice of cool breezes on suffocatingly hot and dry days
a sunny patch on a drenched waterlogged flashing thunderous landscape
but I cant come when I want most.
and such is poetry among friends and by its nature
such pourings of colourful and transparent globual beauty reflecting a mirriad of soul thoughts and heart empassionings
we are all somewhat rendered offended when our offerings are not burnt in offerings of appreciation
to flutter like white ashes to the sky and land delicately on some haphazzard surface till oblivion.
but it is the nature of life that not all can be taken or absorbed or experienced there will be things missed if not superficially then on the deeper levels.
and so I miss this place when I can not come.
when my hands are tied to other pixels and other machanical combombulationary works.
I am simply a slave of my own doing.
captured by what i brought to life
ever distracted by globules of refracted light and codes of beings whom I find such incredible joy
that I can never repay or inspire as much!
hugss SS
I miss the **** out of you all xo
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 5:53 PM UTC
salty air whips her hair and licks her salt streaked face
through swirling smoke
she breathes you in from one hundred eighty six light seconds and a lifetime away
and no beckoning light comes to lead her to you or
you to she
and the ink black night is suffocatingly limitless
so pull the smooth coolness higher and wrap it tight around the empty eyes
of the girl you never knew
and kiss her salty lips oh so softly
once
before you walk away
Sep 26, 2010
Sep 26, 2010 at 12:17 PM UTC
to be so full of love I shine like a beacon
I want it to fill me like glowing water and drown the darkness in me
to drown when I cry
flowing light and glittering ideals
to hope, hope despite evidence that may make me stop
soft like a blanketing of snow
suffocatingly, deafeningly, consumingly soft
love like a fist and hope like sea and stones and the endless rhythm of tides
to be soft and loving and hopeful
tasting blood and cracking knuckles, to be loving, to be soft
to never be hurt again
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 3:22 PM UTC
I will never forget those long thin fingers
Once used to push the hair away from my face,
now dripping in crimson secrets.
Those steady hands I’d grown to love are now shaking,
Shaking with a fear I have never seen you subject to.
I pray you snap out of this, for the sake of all we know.
Insanity has taken over and I can see it intends to grow.
Over the green grainy hills and cotton candy clouds,
Beyond the crystal covered ocean and suffocatingly star-filled sky,
An echo of a siren’s song resonates throughout and cannot be ignored.
Its addicting melody begs to be traveled and lives to be explored.
This is where we live now though you are not here.
I cry and plead for you to come back to your senses but your mind has disappeared.
Why won’t you end this habit before it destroys everything you know?
For the first time in weeks you look into my eyes, shocked.
Surprised to see me there,
As if I had not been standing in front of you for the past year.
With a twitch of your hands and the stars reflecting in your eyes, you whisper:
“Do not fret my love, it won’t destroy me for I am already as dead as winter.”
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 3:44 PM UTC
My room smells like a funeral.
Suffocatingly sweet
stuffed with well wishes
but I never heard the penny plop.
My mother never let me drink her special juice.
Pants around ankles,
crying in the garage because
she just couldn't make it to the bathroom,
could she?
A child isn't meant
to change
her parents'
diapers.
She bought me a bouquet of flowers,
a peace treaty lined with thorns.
I often think upon my funeral,
and I have a suspicion
it would smell a lot
like this.
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 8:14 PM UTC
Dysmorphic
Whenever I see the word “noon”
I sit and I stare at it.
Logically, I know that it’s spelt right,
But the perfect palindromous parallel
Just looks wrong.
Sometimes in band, I hear a sound
And it’s just not right.
Logically, I know that it’s fine,
But the slight tremor torturing the technique
Just sounds wrong.
Sometimes I see myself in the mirror
And I don’t recognize me.
Logically, I know the body I see is me,
But the soul inside is suffocatingly stifled,
And I feel wrong.
Jun 17, 2018
Jun 17, 2018 at 10:34 AM UTC
So here's what i do here's what i do
I swell like the ocean
And hurl my wet waves upon you
Like its your problem cause you did this
You angered the sea and now you've got me to deal with
And it swells so pretty
Pretty like a peal kept secret for so long but now there’s 1,000
Enraged and crashing to the shore
More rare than a bead more painful than a bullet
Cause i'm not killing you by draining your blood
No i'm not kidding you by eating your young
I'm suffocatingly brackish like the curry in the kitchen
Your mothers been fetching you for
Heres what i do heres what i do
I act like torrential downpour
Like fatalities occur but in the truest of true true reality
I am ***** beneath the surface tossing and maybe drowning
And you are the house your mother is fetching for you from
I am the blood spilt from my own wrist cause it felt good to feel
It felt good to drop the act of the ocean and the salty death i’d love cast upon you
I just didn't think i was capable of harboring hate like the port destroyed at shore
If i could see
The sun’d be shining
The boats bobbing happily along
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 8:19 PM UTC