"summarized" poems
I am South Asian
My skin makes me repulsive
To all girls on Earth
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 3:04 AM UTC
read consistently,
learn diligently,
and write profusely
so that beyond lifetimes
of persistent practice
produced from painful,
arthritis-stricken fingers
may you birth a humble book
in its eternal years,
as many mute manuscripts,
it shall collect continents of dust
until it finally bares relevance
due by your unfortunate
final, unheard breaths.
but near such justly demise,
you will rage and reach forth,
to hope an innocent youth
may learn the many mistakes
collected and condensed
from one life to years to weeks,
summarized by your trembling hands.
yet I fear, as you may too,
that as we fade from existence,
our voice echoes lost;
our words unread forever,
to exist untouched
as a decorative piece
on a pretentious bookshelf.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 12:14 AM UTC
Sky blue, purple shade
The finest silhouette
Complaints,
Oppression
Negativity
Whining
Summarized in two words
Black thought
Dark mahogany rocking chair by the porch
Reminiscing the folk days
Projected in all shades of grey
Gloomy settings but a carved smile on his face
As he lost grandma Grace to the hands of less melanin masks
Trampling over the rosy ambiance that still lingered till this day
Going back and forth in that rock motion
Wisdom poaching, selena Johnson
Still taking on the black thought
I will simply have to clean my basement, all the crap and negativity idly poking me
Do feel my wrath worth the nation 's pathetic despair
Don’t think I will not clean this attic that has false hopes smothering your arrogant smile
Wait for the Hannibal in me to shut you down
As I closely walk beside that butterfly
Resting calmly in my palm
Waiting for the murderer in me to crash its living shine
But you,wait for the Hannibal in me to shut you down
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 8:47 AM UTC
I can still remember.
That burning feeling of inspiration, bubbling up through my body.
It dominated me, defined me, led me to believe that I was my own hero.
A protagonist on a quest, a road to travel on, certainty in my bones.
Driven by love through the narration of my world, my story.
Words overflowed from my heart.
Staining the tracks, pages, and lilies of my life with my fire.
Every heartbeat resounded like the clanging of a tower's bells.
Each ring dictating time, order, purpose, place.
I can still remember.
The lingering taste of coffee on my tongue, my face sore from smiling.
Hours spent talking and listening.
The content of my life summarized like chapters of a book.
The way my heart vaulted when your eyes met mine.
It was like the moon pulling at the tides.
Giving the waves motion and momentum.
So I spilled my ink and blood, writing you into the story.
I can still remember.
What it was like when it was over.
I hadn't realized I had been living in a cell.
Scrawling my visions of the world onto every inch of those four walls.
Diagrams and diatribes, the things I considered to be myself.
Going mad in the most wonderful fashion.
As I left I saw them for what they were.
Mosaics and memorials.
Poison and poetry.
The passionate magic of first and finals, the ****** taste of loss.
But **** it was beautiful all the same.
I can still remember.
What it felt like to move on.
The taste of freedom and fresh air, an urge to defy what was.
And become something more again.
But suddenly, the bleeding in my heart slowed.
The resounding clangs of my inner bells softly faded.
It took years,
But one day I reached inside myself
Expecting to feel the fire burning inside me.
I can still remember.
The dread that came with the lack of heat.
The soul of myself, the definition of me as the hero.
Was only embers now.
The easy numbness that washed over me.
The determination and inspiration that was me had left.
I was broken, as I always was.
But I no longer knew myself as beautiful.
I was not a protagonist.
I had written myself out of my own story, slowly but surely.
There was no quest, no journey, no one to save or be saved by.
Just whatever I have become.
I hope one day to remember.
My clumsy and earnest return to form.
When my heart again bled ink and crackled with flame.
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 3:21 PM UTC
A strange recipe,
There seems a certain scarceness of plan to it all.
A summarized unfairness found to this madness,
Two parts chaos to each one part life and matter in equal balance.
A slight dose of loss and grievance, coupled with a dash of unpleasant discourse
and equal parts discouragement.
Break two hearts and empty them into the emulsion.
They'll be buried in there,
to be forgotten as individuals
and rendered part of the whole.
Dust with the sweetness of love,
loyalty
and fulfilled longing.
And present it all to someone special,
Only to find they don't like the bitter taste.
-
If each mans life was a dessert,
mine would be a dark cake, dry as the desert.
N.H.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 10:37 AM UTC
I saw demise in her eyes
acceptance of a summarized
existence in this instance
incidentally its in stints
well baby take my hand and
we'll ride the intertwining serpentine
you feelin my energy in an instant
i feel
i know you missed this
lips reveal whats sealed from description
oh woe to words, absurd innately
oh woe to words' deceptive paintings
We owe an ode to the world, and im thinking maybe
its this moment
its this moment
in this moment I feel relative
in this moment, man, im so not relevant
what tomorrow holds, there is no tellin ya
weve only just crossed paths
yet Ive known you for millennia
Universal Invocations
serendipitous relations
deceitful daggers draped in red cloths
slash at eternal hearts carried by temporary raven claws
disperse
fall into insanity
and land in my lap of chance
no more wallowing in the mire
rhetorical kiaros at a glance
awake, shake these dreams from my hair
evaporate those inhibitions into thin air
exposed soul, open emotion to bare
tip-toeing the peripherals of Medusa's glare
convergence in a vicious cycle
vinyl in perpetual spiral, we rendezvous in eternity
convergence in a vicious cycle
vinyl in perpetual spiral, situated, stuck internally
Many moons might fall and several suns will set
but in this instance, together, we'll always be infinite
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
Verily the exordium told anent a beauty engirdled in her fedora
soliciting those whoever descried her into her mere servile admirer
eight trenchant tinctures upon her body invigorate like a cadenza
I dare not to contradict the verity that I am beguiled afore her
whilst the snain distilled faintly enwreathed her in unctuous silk
concordantly she devote herself earnestly to the impeccable rain
that emanate her fragile poetry with prestidigitation in a whisk
forsooth she is but the vernacular sobriquet to the soul of the rain
recall me otherwhile during the rainstorm champagne did coerce
and the sunset's glass of wine exude her ingratiating persona
like a myriad of aphrodisiac summarized in a single verse
when harmony and lyrics danced in the crepuscular crescendo
all of that needed to be enunciated is it is you
do not harshly let me be thy unrequited dilettante
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 4:27 AM UTC
My roommates and I congregated in our suite's great room and we’ll head out for dinner soon.
“Have you ever eaten dog food?” Leong asked Anna.
“No,” Anna answered, “it smells like chicken - it’s got chicken in it”
“OOO!” Leong pounces, “Busted!!”
“What?!” Anna reacts.
“How would you know that then?” Leong asks, doubtfully.
“My mom told me!” Anna cries, in self defense. “She’s a vegetarian too.”
“Your mom told you.” Leong said, like a prosecutor raising an eyebrow for the jury.
“I just took my last English class,” I report, pony-tailing my hair, “my teacher told me - privately - that my writing destroys.”
“Nice,” Lisa says.
“Yeah,” I say, smiling and grooming with pride, “I thought that was a ballin’ complement and I’ve been riding that high.”
“No doubt,” Anna says and nods.
“My English professor..” Leong says, exasperated, “is driving me crazy, I’ve written three final papers so far and she’s rejected them ALL.”
“Huh?” I gasp, “Show me one!” I demand, wiggling gimmie-fingers at her laptop.
“Here’s a question,” Lisa asks the room, “What would you change about your childhood?”
“I would have never grown up.” Sophy said.
“When I was in third grade, in the UK, a girl in my elementary school, was murdered,” I reveal.
“What?!” Anna says.
“Oh, my GOD!” Lisa gasps.
“Spill” Leong demands.
“Her name was Kennedy,” I begin, “She was in another class, I didn’t know her but I started to imagine that I’d known her. I’d think of her playing on the swings in a yellow dress, in daydreams and in nightmares.”
“I can see that,” Leong said.
“I was flummoxed, at the time, how a family could lose a little girl and a president.” I added.
Anna looked confused.
“I was in third grade,” I replied, ”what did I know?”
“Go ON,” Lisa prompts.
“We heard that she was walking home and got snatched,” I continued.
“Jesus,” Lisa said, shaking her head.
“Although I never walked home, I was careful not to be snatched for a while,” I summarized.
“I bet,” Anna agreed.
“That’s what I’d change,” I said, “Poor Kennedy.”
“People **** Lisa pronounced, and there was general agreement to that.
Apr 29, 2022
Apr 29, 2022 at 1:45 PM UTC
50:53
Strobe
when revealing a smile variegated
your polychrome
soul within sight
does not know where to go but to pine away
from the single light to touch
the innards of your button-down
making intimate the body contorts dancing with another
a minute past a gyratory
if belief is a grave: let stasis be metamorphosis.
this rained-on house will not give way any minute
else there is the wreckage springing from a singular
hiding behind the music ballasting ground
and from a convinced consequence of being
became fracture as if salacious to withdraw nothing but noise
from the quiet or vice versa. If when breaths were postponed, inert – they will
start estimates from outside
the neon sign that says Pulse and reimagine the lives when divorced
from the daily, and is then summarized
in a fusillade. When on the ground
they must have been dreaming of wings, or falling asleep
constantly with a warm body stranger tomorrow in that evening
a contingent
this place they have not reached yet against their head
said it was the most sincere of blankness at any given rate,
when movements statistical, numbered, unwarranted like a metaphor
or a glib downpour – the aftermath
becomes sleep so tender with a dream which resonates
They must have been dreaming of wings but by the time when someone
waiting for them
inside homes, they have already flown into days.
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 10:23 AM UTC
Stop organizing your life
Your romances do not fit neatly onto one-page stories
Your pain cannot be summarized in a poem with two stanzas
The way you feel when you are alone deserves more than a haiku
give yourself credit
you are comprised of more than words
you do not have a synonym
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 6:36 PM UTC
You are a work of art
Yet i'm the statue, (dead)
Stuck staring at you
Admiring your edges and curves
Yet I'm the painting
nailed on the wall,(dead)
Yet all the colours are summarized
in your shadow
Yet i'm a photograph
framed in four corners
Frozen in stillness, (dead)
Unable to touch your face
You are a work of art
Yet a walking travesty
Of a sweet untainted illusion
Of beauty, (alive)
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
So then, let's take the Foraminifera.
They lived, since they were, and were since they lived.
They did what they could since they were able.
In the plural since the plural,
although each one on its own
small limestone shell.
Time summarized them later
in layers, since layers,
without going into details,
since there's pity in the details.
And so I have before me
two views in one:
a mournful cemetery made
of tiny eternal rests
or,
rising from the sea,
the azure sea, dazzling white cliffs,
cliffs that are here because they are.
Wislawa Szymborska from Here New Poems
translated from Polish by Clare Cavanagh
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 5:59 AM UTC
Atop the frail ego she mounts her merciless machine gun with which she mows down any speckle of personality that dares flicker amongst her immediate surroundings, until only her presence alone can remain untarnished and unfettered by sadistic, sardonically summarized ridicule, luminous and majestically radiating with solitary supremacy. Oh, the splendorous grandeur of self-indicted superiority, the rush of power and authority from diminishing another's essence with ruthless categorical association, the incomparable ecstasy of using their own positive attributes as their rudimentary flaws. Viscerally volatile, the cocking of the mocking gun's hammer is to be recognized as the phrase "You're just trying to be______". This is critical, for all too well she knows to a certainty that at the most essential level, one is only simply trying to be. And when you attack a person's will to try, their will to be, then you are taking aim at the one vital aspect of their existence which they hold any discernible dominion over: their character. The slaying is heinous and orgasmically fulfilling, for how can the perennial, separatist worship of Self be indulged in among so many of these "others"? But oh how exhausting it must be, the perpetually cyclic nature of the task. How can she ***** a light that doesn't exude from a distant source, but is a brother beam of the source they share? How does she extinguish the reflection of a flame off the water? Like fireflies on summer nights they disappear only to reappear again, somewhere else, reminding her of the irrevocable, irreducible power of being born and reborn again in the new moment. The self-aware ******** audacious enough to love themselves. How much of it do they really think they can withstand?
Reload.
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC
she's running toward me.
full on. not stopping. this is it.
the kiss to end all kisses.
***** "the titanic".
***** "the notebook".
we're the real deal.
should I run to meet her? should I stay and let her come to me? wow, I have a lot of responsibility in this.
she's getting closer.
god, I missed her.
I hate space. we didn't need space. I just need to get to her. hold her. that would make this moment perfect.
that and rain. rain would help. make this seem more cinematic.
I digress.
BAM.
she's here. in my arms. en mi brazos.
warm to touch. sweet to smell.
her face is buried in my chest. she's breathing heavy, trying to inhale me.
we stand still, filing these moments in our minds.
she lifts her head and looks in me.
her eyelids are red and puffy, remnants of tears linger. but her eyes are deep. clear, blue, and deep.
I know what she's thinking.
she's thinking what I’m thinking.
fireworks. explosions. BOOM! impact.
she's is summarizing her entire speech into this one action.
her "I’m sorry”‘s.
her "I missed you”‘s.
especially her "I love you”‘s.
all summarized in one pleasant forceful kiss.
this kiss feels amazing yet it feels new.
this kiss isn't a "we should have sex/peer pressure" kiss where both our minds are elsewhere.
nor is it "hello/goodbye" peck.
this kiss is real. it has passion and fire. It is deep and selfless. It’s an expression not a formality.
don't get me wrong; it's not a gross sloppy "get a room" kiss. there is no groping or petting, heavy or otherwise.
it is indescribable.
it feels like it lasts second and years at the same time.
it is so good yet bad because I know I will never feel that without having to feel great pain first.
losing her, even if it was only for a small period of time, was unbearable.
when she eventually did pull away I tried to think of something appropriate and clever.
I thought and though and then, "I love you" came out.
that’s it? that’s all I could come up with? I could do better.
but then I realized.
I couldn't.
there was nothing better.
I loved her more than I could put into any other words.
yeah I ripped off a Natasha Beddingfeild song but it was true.
I couldn't think of anything catchy or witty.
just I love you.
simple and easy and most of all, true.
Oct 31, 2010
Oct 31, 2010 at 3:14 PM UTC
Obliging my son with a bottled formula nightcap
Glanced over at the cover of Rachel Ray
(My wife a fan; me……not so much)
I suspect
(at as far as marketing consultants are concerned)
There is something deeply rooted in the female psych
That says:
Total fulfillment can be summarized as holding an overlarge mug of a hot beverage in 2 hands
(never one hand – that’s business only)
sitting on your couch
feet cannot be touching the floor. tucked, preferably
Added success at life can be conveyed via a thick sweater or (for the wildly tasteless) a Snuggie.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
"Give me the strength to live one day,
as if it summarized the entirety of my life".
Sep 20, 2021
Sep 20, 2021 at 7:14 AM UTC
Wakey wakey
Big mistakey
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 9:14 PM UTC
I want to be unapologetic
Yet, I continue to apologize
For every difference that they see
Increases the need to compromise
From what I wear to how I sleep
Or what is deemed a healthy size
From then on, I understood
That I lived only to be described
I apologize again for my differences
Next time, I will improve my disguise
For the sake of your own comfort
I will keep putting aside mine
I look up to their condescending stares
They will never be satisfied
I escape into my solitude
I am not something for you to define
I am tired of advocating for myself
Without the support of family ties
Finding more hate in my own growth
As though I live to be ostracized
My attempts to calm my abnormalities
In order to sooth those who penalize
To make room for all of their expectations
To create another profitable merchandise
They have taught me to pursue
A personality so idealized
While they heavily persuade me
To carve a body to sexualize
Only to be rewarded with a life
Where I am only patronized
Filled with the inequalities
That are completely normalized
I retreat into my inner world
The place where I fanaticize
Of a space where I can breathe
With the encouragement to try
I am not broken, just discouraged
Of those who antagonize
Minorities and their differences
Who then live demoralized
I don't want to be given a role
With a life script to memorize
Or submit myself to a narrative
That can easily be summarized
Do not confide me to a label
Just so you can stigmatized
Those labels are not my name
I deserved to be recognized
I do not wish to be put on a pedestal
As another icon to be advertised
I only wish for your understanding
Just enough to be humanized
Apr 7, 2020
Apr 7, 2020 at 11:40 PM UTC
A child's dies.
A mother cry.
A child's gone.
A father mourn.
But in many ways they both doing the same.
Hurting, deeply hurting.
Memories comes.
Where the child'll be summarized for the good times?
But in many ways , we remember more good times when they gone.
A child's rest peacefully.
While many families, friends grieve.
Death is a very somber thing.
But in many ways, so are very similar things.
Death of a mother.
Death of a father.
Maybe aunt,cousin, niece or uncle.
Or just a friend.
Just be aware God waits for all of us.
But in many ways He gave us someone to enjoy.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
this morning, i awoke with a million different things swimming through my brain's waves and wiring that all could be summarized in only four words, picked at, scraped down, and peeled off completely raw:
my heart is hurting.
if the people at that party could physically see it in action, it would be on it's hands and knees, crawling to the nearest and darkest corner to hide in. no one seems to think you deserve me and no one has any patience and no one is waking up this morning, clutching their knees to their chest at the thought of the curve of his smile, making me want to meet god just so i could thank him for it.
and i think it's almost insane, the way this world works. how i stayed on the porch with him until the sun came up even after he said he'd only stay for a little while. how we talked so loudly of loneliness but hadn't even slightly exhaled the word itself. how he's a figment of my past but he made my world feel new again. how all of the people that want me around are pushing me away because of the way he leaves me and showing their teeth because of the way i want him despite that- there is no kindness here- when the reason it hurts is because he is the most warm, tender person and understands the same thing about me.
it's a dog-eat-dog world and i am a 16 year old human, eating a burrito over the kitchen sink in my underwear at 5 o'clock, monday morning.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 7:16 AM UTC
You don't know how I'm feeling.
I have yet to vocalize
Desire deep inside me.
Can you see it in my eyes?
I tremble when I'm near you
Heat travels up my thighs
and I want you with an urgency
That I just can't describe.
Dare I reach out to touch you?
Do you think you'd realize
How much I want and need you?
Can you see it in my eyes?
I long to say, "I want you,"
But am scared of your reply.
Terrified like a child
I've become paralyzed.
The camouflaged emotions
Lead to pain and silent cries.
And yet I just can't tell you.
Don't you see it in my eyes?
Confessing through this poem
My dilemma summarized.
The feeling's quite cathartic,
But will lead to my demise.
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 1:08 PM UTC
It wasnt just you , but youre the main one that flashed the signs.
Signs of hurt , ache , tears , feelings that were never felt before.
As if I was drowning myself every moment spent with you, but blinded by hope .
Hope that we'd grow up and move onto better things.
Atleast thats what I summarized as my feelings
Then it was him, who claimed me as being mentally challanged.
When all to reality im now mentally destroyed
Him who told me he cant except me for who I am, but who he wants me to be.
Adrenaline rising once I heard all the news.
But of course I didnt want to talk it out with you.
Stressed about it sent me to the hospital bed
Just the fact that my blood rises because of you, admits the feelings I had.
Sight, vision, touch.
Your fingertips.
When they would persuade my skin to believe your lies.
Your lips would corress my neck making me fall deeper .
Whispers of "I love you" that would pump life into my heart are now gone.
Disappeared into someone elses ear .
The ear and lips that spreaded us part
The ones that tried to take part of me without you knowing
They persuaded you to do what you did.
The scars tucked underneath from that night you started to switch
My lips that freeze whenever it comes to speaking to you.
Sensing the fact that youve changed and dont care for my being.
So ill stay away..
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 6:08 PM UTC
Whether a blessing or a curse, I have the habit of looking at my thoughts under a magnifying glass. One particular thought that seems to play out in my mind is how do those around me, perceive me? I strive to live my life in a way of non-violence, ahimsa. And if I cause those around me to feel the flames of anger, judgment, etc, is that not a form of violence? Negative thoughts hurt a soul. And if I cause someone else pain, I inflict pain upon myself. I feel the key to life can be summarized in one word, perception. And on this particular evening, my perception led me to this trail of thoughts. Blowing up your news feed with an absurd amount of political (or what most would consider conspiracy theory) related posts is considered annoying among many people. Perhaps even ignorant to some. I know that most of the contents of what I post is "alternative" media. I know that a lot of people don't want to take the time out of their (understandably) busy day to read such things. But these are situations in which we need to be made aware of. Whether or not you deem it to be the truth, perceive the notion that anything is possible. And if there is just the slightest possibility that America, the land of the free, is rapidly losing it's freedom, should we not be the littlest bit concerned? When the government no longer serves its purpose, should we not, at the very least, question its authority? The primary purpose of any government is to uphold and protect the fundamental human rights of freedom, equality, peace, and justice for its people. I dunno about you, but I don't consider a land, nor it's citizens to be free when one cannot openly voice their opinions without being considered a threat to the general public. But then the question arises, if the government does not have our best interests in mind, what shall we do about it? I'm still searching for that answer. The world can seem an overwhelmingly bad place at times, even more so when the very walls of truth crumble around you. The task of change seems slightly less daunting when I remember these words, "You must take personal responsibility. You cannot change the circumstances, the seasons, or the wind, but you can change yourself. That is something you have charge of." Never underestimate the waves you can make, your very being is of the utmost importance. From dead plant matter to snails to undiscovered creatures of the deep, everything in the natural world is connected. You are part of that connection too! Without you, there can be no change. And on that note, I'll end my rambling.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC