"suggestible" poems - Hello Poetry

When dawn descends into dusk I am caught in moonlight clutches claws digging deep into ever so suggestible flesh — like the werewolves I see while sitting on my porch basking in the days last puffs of smoke. I similarly am going up in plumes of carcinogenic madness, brain ravaged with thoughts of aliens coming to steal me away — thieves in the night. Such is this twisted tango danced, with the familiarity of lovers interwoven in my brain — tarnished neurons, friendly fire dopamine, spilling over into visions — but not the kinds of sugar plums. no, this fruit is rotten; bearing gnashing teeth, breathing fire. But this phoenix will rise from ash from the remains of deluded thought of broken tongue words misplaced and slithering figures in peripheral vision with their monochromatic hue I will be rainbow reborn, the full spectrum anew, because every storm will pass — and I will not be beaten.

0

Dec 10, 2023

Dec 10, 2023 at 1:51 PM UTC

moon_lite

managing my mania

When dawn descends into dusk I am caught in moonlight clutches claws digging deep into ever so suggestible flesh — like the werewolves I see while sitting on my porch basking in the days last puffs of smoke. I similarly am going up in plumes of carcinogenic madness, brain ravaged with thoughts of aliens coming to steal me away — thieves in the night. Such is this twisted tango danced, with the familiarity of lovers interwoven in my brain — tarnished neurons, friendly fire dopamine, spilling over into visions — but not the kinds of sugar plums. no, this fruit is rotten; bearing gnashing teeth, breathing fire. But this phoenix will rise from ash from the remains of deluded thought of broken tongue words misplaced and slithering figures in peripheral vision with their monochromatic hue I will be rainbow reborn, the full spectrum anew, because every storm will pass — and I will not be beaten.

36

persuasive psychiatric silently suggestible arrest my subconscious with positive words digestible but don't digress at all because I'm highly impressionable and impressible highly strung and suggestible though it is questionable my ability to think with agility which gives my mind mobility although no stability free flow like Jack Kerouac beat beat beating the general jilted generation of my era who can't see the woods so clearer for the amount of trees stood near her rambling rambler rambling on ranting and raving all night long expression is for everyone fornication sedation adaptation elation medication probation spiritual raping beg bleed sorrow slumber salty seeds mindlessly wonder sultry mistress in solitary slumber signs pointing to a magnificent magistracy push and punish set me free persuade psychology

0

Apr 3, 2013

Apr 3, 2013 at 10:23 AM UTC

jack-sneers

Bored word play (not really a poem)

persuasive psychiatric silently suggestible arrest my subconscious with positive words digestible but don't digress at all because I'm highly impressionable and impressible highly strung and suggestible though it is questionable my ability to think with agility which gives my mind mobility although no stability free flow like Jack Kerouac beat beat beating the general jilted generation of my era who can't see the woods so clearer for the amount of trees stood near her rambling rambler rambling on ranting and raving all night long expression is for everyone fornication sedation adaptation elation medication probation spiritual raping beg bleed sorrow slumber salty seeds mindlessly wonder sultry mistress in solitary slumber signs pointing to a magnificent magistracy push and punish set me free persuade psychology

9

There is a hole in me it's a perfect circle No need to pinpoint the location It's not as if anyone could fill it Even if they knew exactly where it is There is a hole in me Maybe it encompasses my field You see it in my hands or in my back This hole doesn't have a bottom Maybe it could, but it's like the ocean Too deep to measure without giving myself to it I've dumped many relationships in this hole accuse me of ****** but no one will find their bodies I've had some people climb down there on their own volition thought they could be my archeologist save me from this emptiness I never saw them again If a stranger happens to run into it, I'm prepared for this I've wrapped caution tape and neons signs with the words "slippery when wet!" And another sign that says "construction at work, drive slowly" Another sign says "Not liable for any accidents, procceed at your own risk" At night I hold a flashlight to the hole and see spiderwebs but no spiders made of jagged rocks other than that I see no sign of life sometimes when I'm feeling pointless I take a shovel and toss some dirt down Hopeful that could make a difference When the wind hits 75 mph in my head the hole E C H O E S it has powerful acoustics sometimes eery mostly hollow but often sounds like a mountain lion in heat There is a hole in me that might never be filled or tapped for well water This hole was created by a broken family A Mother and A Father And now passed on to the daughter Because of this hole I am suggestible to fall in other holes like the depression hole it's very dark in there and millions of people are in it but no one is aware they aren't alone and once you're there no one plans on getting out or the financial hole where people in fancy suits consistently throw down reciepts or call out your name but never lend a helping hand Or the desperation hole where creepy men lurk in the shadows begging to give me money if I undress them and open my legs with my eyes shut there could be something for me Somewhere down there in my hole A secret I need to know or a way into another world But I am too scared to fall in and let go It could be the death of my ego

0

Mar 28, 2018

Mar 28, 2018 at 2:55 AM UTC

egeria-litha

There is A Hole

There is a hole in me it's a perfect circle No need to pinpoint the location It's not as if anyone could fill it Even if they knew exactly where it is There is a hole in me Maybe it encompasses my field You see it in my hands or in my back This hole doesn't have a bottom Maybe it could, but it's like the ocean Too deep to measure without giving myself to it I've dumped many relationships in this hole accuse me of ****** but no one will find their bodies I've had some people climb down there on their own volition thought they could be my archeologist save me from this emptiness I never saw them again If a stranger happens to run into it, I'm prepared for this I've wrapped caution tape and neons signs with the words "slippery when wet!" And another sign that says "construction at work, drive slowly" Another sign says "Not liable for any accidents, procceed at your own risk" At night I hold a flashlight to the hole and see spiderwebs but no spiders made of jagged rocks other than that I see no sign of life sometimes when I'm feeling pointless I take a shovel and toss some dirt down Hopeful that could make a difference When the wind hits 75 mph in my head the hole E C H O E S it has powerful acoustics sometimes eery mostly hollow but often sounds like a mountain lion in heat There is a hole in me that might never be filled or tapped for well water This hole was created by a broken family A Mother and A Father And now passed on to the daughter Because of this hole I am suggestible to fall in other holes like the depression hole it's very dark in there and millions of people are in it but no one is aware they aren't alone and once you're there no one plans on getting out or the financial hole where people in fancy suits consistently throw down reciepts or call out your name but never lend a helping hand Or the desperation hole where creepy men lurk in the shadows begging to give me money if I undress them and open my legs with my eyes shut there could be something for me Somewhere down there in my hole A secret I need to know or a way into another world But I am too scared to fall in and let go It could be the death of my ego

55

The whole of human history is but a memory I can't speak for you But if I've learned anything It's that nothing is more fickle, more malleable, more suggestible, than the fragile tendrils of human thought History is an old man With weak knees and arthritic fingers Drunk off the non-existent fumes of long forgotten glories His cracked and bony cane crashes, crushes, and disperses, seemingly indiscriminately He who grappled with Stalin and Caesar With kings and commoners With everybody who cried 'Wait! Wait! More time! More time!' (And everybody who didn't) And this request they were granted by the old man For time he has plenty Understanding he does not

0

Dec 12, 2010

Dec 12, 2010 at 7:15 PM UTC

max-rutherford

Santayana

The whole of human history is but a memory I can't speak for you But if I've learned anything It's that nothing is more fickle, more malleable, more suggestible, than the fragile tendrils of human thought History is an old man With weak knees and arthritic fingers Drunk off the non-existent fumes of long forgotten glories His cracked and bony cane crashes, crushes, and disperses, seemingly indiscriminately He who grappled with Stalin and Caesar With kings and commoners With everybody who cried 'Wait! Wait! More time! More time!' (And everybody who didn't) And this request they were granted by the old man For time he has plenty Understanding he does not

24

I need to express myself For my mental health Not to melt But I don’t make art Because it’s torn apart Like a bleeding heart Eaten by seething sharks In a match of the friendless Versus the defenseless It’s the pretentious Who condescend us They hit all The pitfalls With wit small But sit tall Behind thick walls Of vitriol They see examining art As a way to prove they’re smart By blindly rejecting what others like And enjoying the obscure As if being different makes them right Which is obviously absurd On a plane where opinion Is treated as fact They claim dominion Over the artistic track By shooting black flak Until I angrily react And flies I attract You might take the angle I think everyone is painful I’m not saying there aren’t angels But there are definitely demons With no explainable definite reasons Why they call some artists heathens Based on the nonsense they believe in Pretension and ignorance Have a large difference But both are carnivorous Most of their comments Aren’t very honest Nor are they modest They just burn the hottest Their judgment stuck On calling everything putrid The best filmmakers **** The best musicians are stupid They can hardly be called lucid Trying to be the negative Confucius Their hate reaping Gatekeeping Breaks peeking Artists seeking One day reaching Public preaching I start to withdraw Once they’re near My heart won’t unthaw Frozen in fear The crowd is suggestible and fickle So one negative trickle Causes an avalanche of icicles Knocking me off life’s bicycle They discourage people from putting themselves out there As they turn culture into a doubt fair Only producing shout air To reroute stares Away from emotional expression And toward themselves With their rhetorical aggression They put us in hell

0

Apr 17, 2019

Apr 17, 2019 at 10:02 AM UTC

andrew-rueter

Pretentious

I need to express myself For my mental health Not to melt But I don’t make art Because it’s torn apart Like a bleeding heart Eaten by seething sharks In a match of the friendless Versus the defenseless It’s the pretentious Who condescend us They hit all The pitfalls With wit small But sit tall Behind thick walls Of vitriol They see examining art As a way to prove they’re smart By blindly rejecting what others like And enjoying the obscure As if being different makes them right Which is obviously absurd On a plane where opinion Is treated as fact They claim dominion Over the artistic track By shooting black flak Until I angrily react And flies I attract You might take the angle I think everyone is painful I’m not saying there aren’t angels But there are definitely demons With no explainable definite reasons Why they call some artists heathens Based on the nonsense they believe in Pretension and ignorance Have a large difference But both are carnivorous Most of their comments Aren’t very honest Nor are they modest They just burn the hottest Their judgment stuck On calling everything putrid The best filmmakers **** The best musicians are stupid They can hardly be called lucid Trying to be the negative Confucius Their hate reaping Gatekeeping Breaks peeking Artists seeking One day reaching Public preaching I start to withdraw Once they’re near My heart won’t unthaw Frozen in fear The crowd is suggestible and fickle So one negative trickle Causes an avalanche of icicles Knocking me off life’s bicycle They discourage people from putting themselves out there As they turn culture into a doubt fair Only producing shout air To reroute stares Away from emotional expression And toward themselves With their rhetorical aggression They put us in hell

72

Love is cheap, *** is free. Relationships are like discarded clothing in dressing rooms, easily done with. How long before everyone realizes how shallow and carnal are the materials projected on our youth's suggestible and innocently curious minds? When? When AIDS and unwanted pregnancies are rampant? When are we gonna wake up? When the streets are filled with the grief of ******** I hope it is not too late... What was I thinking? Everyone is either too busy gorging, or is numb from the same fixation.

0

Aug 18, 2018

Aug 18, 2018 at 11:41 AM UTC

daniel-brian-l-hong

Untitled

Love is cheap, *** is free. Relationships are like discarded clothing in dressing rooms, easily done with. How long before everyone realizes how shallow and carnal are the materials projected on our youth's suggestible and innocently curious minds? When? When AIDS and unwanted pregnancies are rampant? When are we gonna wake up? When the streets are filled with the grief of ******** I hope it is not too late... What was I thinking? Everyone is either too busy gorging, or is numb from the same fixation.

9