"surrogate" poems
dear aries,
had i known what love was back then,
we might have made it last.
dear taurus,
you were always everything
i wished i could have been.
dear gemini,
you are a fiesty, wonderful soul,
i love you dearly, my surrogate brother.
dear cancer,
i still remember the first day we met,
but i cannot remember the sound of your voice.
dear leo,
you are worth more
than your protruding collarbones.
dear virgo,
our horoscopes say we are the perfect friends,
but you are a heartless creature and i am afraid of you.
dear libra,
you are vicious,
picking petty fights over nothing,
yet you are still my best friend.
dear scorpio,
god, what a beautiful, fascinating being you are.
how i always wished to be yours.
dear sagittarius,
i gave you my heart,
and now it has two years
and eight batterings worth of scars.
dear capricorn,
i miss our late night storytelling,
i am waiting on an apology that will never come.
dear aquarius,
we are so different now,
i cannot bear to speak to you.
you are afraid of me.
dear pisces,
whenever i see you,
you take my breath away.
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 9:39 AM UTC
Extravagantly exorbitant mentality panacea
Pretentious eidetic’s ubiquity mnemonics
Extraversion embezzlement extortion mens rea
Endergonic laconic cacophony phonics
Preterite rendition enclitic equilibrist motion
Mystic symbiosis dharma spiritual sky
Brusque macabre abjections the gist of the potion
Straight up forever ontology on high
Obdurately abstruse vituperatively vociferous
Juxtaposition apparition myriad avarice
Orotund sonorous diction obliquitous
Multifariously versatile nefarious nemesis
Mirador bartizan phantasmagoria aesthetics
Guidon gyration excursion integration
Sorcerous alchemizing interstitial endemics
Chaos charisma objectified tribulation
Conjurous apothegms clitoral apomixis
Exude emote surrogate extrapolation
Astral projection littoral hypotaxis
Kinetic supremacy homogeneity gravitation
Coercible coalescent cohesion dexterities
Adjunct conjunction conjecture acuity
Platonic pragmatic prosaic austerities
Extemporaneous impromptu innuendo fortuity
Propinquity habitation harbinger spectra
Perplexing paradox tenacity rostra
Intensely cogitational abstract mantra
Penumbral exigency , umbrage per contra
Theoretical incursion grandiloquent ne plus ultra
Exogamy of homoplasy sic itur ad astra
Quiescent serendipity surreal anestra
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 6:16 AM UTC
Deary deary give me your toe to ****
I'm half crazy my mind is running muck
I can't afford a foot spa
but love to hear you ooh awww
cause your two feet
taste oh so sweet
between these lips that I love to puck
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 7:19 AM UTC
Babies, babies everywhere
Usually it's your opinion I share
We're too old, too tired, too busy
But the babies all around me are making me dizzy
I'm rational, realistic and levelheaded
It would be enough for me if we were just wedded
Barely in our forties, but our youth in the past
But I feel that the baby window is closing fast
We each have our own and have been down this road a time or two
But they're all growing up so fast, and I've never gotten to have one with you
Robbed of that chance, I feel like we missed out on what should've been our life, our destiny
But I feel blessed for the boys we have and I will be happy if that's all that's meant to be
Babies are loud and they're too expensive
And, truthfully, I really do like the way we live
So many obstacles stand in the way
A vasectomy, decreased fertility, how to pay
It all gets so technical and sterile and void of romance
I wonder if there is even the slightest chance
All the procedures we'd need to endure
So with this decision, we both must be sure
Will we regret it and wish we had chosen a different path
I don't want to end up in the poor house for not doing the math
I'm so busy, would a surrogate be the way to go
A nanny is fine for after, but with a surrogate, can a bond grow
Then there's the smell of their hair
That special bond that only you two share
The way they hold onto you as if you hold the key to their heart
The look of total terror in their eyes whenever you must part
A small piece of me and a small piece of you
Someone we create together, something we chose to do
The one we were supposed to have years ago
The dream that neither of us quite let go
Here we are, decades later, together again
Has too much time passed, too much life been
Or was it always meant to be this way, We're older and wiser and more ready today
It may never work and I need you to know, that I'm happy with just us if that's God's plan
But if this is possible and my last chance, then I know you are the perfect man
They'll all talk about us and say we're too old and crazy
But this is how I chose to tell you, I'd like to try to have your baby
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 1:52 AM UTC
129
Cocoon above! Cocoon below!
Stealthy Cocoon, why hide you so
What all the world suspect?
An hour, and gay on every tree
Your secret, perched in ecstasy
Defies imprisonment!
An hour in Chrysalis to pass,
Then gay above receding grass
A Butterfly to go!
A moment to interrogate,
Then wiser than a “Surrogate,”
The Universe to know!
4.9k
we whispered missing years
fluttered legs over a withering porch bench
she mixed my hair with white fingertips
to keep the itchy thoughts away
the walls of my grandparents’ house held me close,
my surrogate womb
we shared more than blood and color as
time licked her blonde with
heavy waves of fruit and nicotine and
I didn’t mind
she sung sticky secrets to me:
nights she dreamed on the streets when
rent was too high and
dads that come like rain:
big and loud all at once,
then gone
fingertips padded quiet paths along budding curls while
“mom” sat sweet and safe against my tongue
--
c
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 4:34 PM UTC
For years they'd tried and failed
in their conjunctions to conceive.
The wife prone to miscarriages
so a surrogate was decreed.
Her closest friend from college
took pity on their plight,
and volunteered to help them
by bringing forth their child to life.
It would be their bun, her oven.
Their tenant in her rented womb.
The pregnancy was uneventful
and their son was born last June.
It's a miracle of science.
to some couples it's a boon.
but the procedure is expensive
so don't expect a baby boom
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 11:30 AM UTC
I have started this letter one hundred times. I have referred to you as my friend, my "cousin", my love. No term seems more right than brother, as you have grown with me, and we have lived our parallel lives. I have known you since the day I was born, and I will know you until the day I die. I have long since memorized each freckle on your face, each vein in your hand, each scar on your hip. I am saying this in the hopes that you will understand why it hurt so much when you looked me in the eye and told me to calm down.
As we skipped rocks in the river that runs past my house, you complained to me about the cousin with the crazy feminist ideals. I laughed it off, and tried to reason with you, trying to teach my dear brother a valuable lesson. That's when you stared at me, with those gorgeous, piercing eyes, and you said, "I know women think they don't have rights, but like...just calm down, okay?"
Not okay. It will never be okay. It can't be okay until boys like you stop ignoring our pain. Stop writing off our suffering as hormones and gossip. Stop telling us that our feelings are invalid.
You have always said that I was your little sister. As children, you were the first to teach me how to throw a punch, so I could take care of myself. You were the first to grab me by the hand and whisper, "I will never let anything happen to you."
If you wanted to protect me, if you wanted to love me, if you wanted me to have what you have, you would not ignore the hardships of myself and my sisters. You would not tell me I'm making it up. You would not tell me to calm down. You would not stop until everything really was okay.
I wonder how much you actually know about feminism, and how much you actually know about me. Once I thought you had memorized each piece I have given you, the way I have memorized every curve in your body, and every corner of your brain. I suppose, looking back, you never were the best listener.
The day before you came to me, angry about the unfairness of your parents. I would never say to you, "I know you think it's not fair but like...just calm down, okay?" When you came to me about your anxiety, I would never say, "I know you think it's hard, but like...just calm down, okay?" I would never ignore your words, would never patronize your pain, would never tell you to calm down.
Something inside of me has been broken ever since that day. The day that I realized that my big brother wasn't always the good guy. Some days, he's the villain. Most days, he's part of the problem.
I will always love you. You have been with me since my first breathe, and I'll be ****** if you're not there for my last. I will always listen, always hold you, always love you, always be here for you. But the one thing I refuse to do is dilute my anger for you. I will not sugarcoat my oppression, will not sweep away my sadness. I will not calm down.
And maybe, with you by my side, we could make things be okay.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 1:01 AM UTC
Willow herb floating
on silent certainty
ashes of sighs
not fleeting,
unvapoured on the
blossom of the rain,
I am too light to
pull or push
the swing of delight
through this land.
The rain left me for a
while
sun unshielding
-a thousand widows
more unyielding than the depths . .
Once shadowed whisperers
of delight,gossamer
sparkling , descending
their chains
of necromantic hope.
Lilith is no night owl
she is mother, eve
and my becoming:
sweet earth spun
at once ,
exhaling her .
The see saw
bumped gently
on my chin
it is a most gentle
form of awakening.
The silence bore no whispers
till sinking through the quicksand
-or was it quicksilver?
-in any case I could smell little
in my amniotic amnesia.
I made ten thousand friends,till their soap
made this place clean.
Is this a seed or a dying
hopefulness
-is my sallow sowing
beyond all shores of
reproduction;
a reflection of the child
they dared not bear?
Is my last breath like this
a forgotton yielding
will they catch me
as I fall ?
-(sweet earth)-
This moth of my ending,
a shallow recantation,
my fears-
their memories, mere
testubes of
stylish hope .
I breathe the elegant stare
you have forgotten .
Once more free
from such
rememberance
I need not ,
remained not ,
your imploded ,
wakefulness .
A thousand pardons
exhaled like silk
entwining
an unfinished race
spider of a thousand eyes .
One may say
I was
stared
to death
but surrogate air
mocks childish pity.
Taut refelexions
bear salt echoes
in silk convulsions
fresh water
a veneered hope .
Easier in death than life
is a child's sorrowed
partings ,
the illusion of
bouyancy
rippled tides
unfelt.
The oceans have not enough salt
for such shrunken sorrow.
if we could but once
have shared
unbreathed aspersion .
The room has come and gone
the pillow quite undry
unforgotten
unremembered.
A web untouched
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 7:46 AM UTC
Rosemary’s Baby
Rosemary’s baby is a baby of mine,
Rosemary’s baby dropped right on time for me.
Rosemary’s baby is a baby of mine,
Rosemary’s baby dropped right on time for me.
My wife and I, we couldn’t have kids,
So we called Rosie and now we have three.
Our surrogate, suffragette,
Sacrificed, all she had to give.
A selfless act, an adopted kid,
A world of joy is all Rosemary could give.
Now Rosemary’s baby, is a baby of mine,
Rosemary’s baby dropped right on time for me.
Rosemary’s baby is a baby of mine,
Rosemary’s baby dropped right on time for me.
We had waited for years, to become parents,
In just nine months, Rosie showed us our Heaven.
A baby boy called Ethan, with pale blue eyes,
A year later, the twins lay at his side.
Little Rosie and little Mary,
Have made us such a happy family.
Now Rosemary’s babies are babies of mine,
Rosemary’s babies, dropped right on time for me.
Rosemary’s babies are babies of mine,
Because Rosemary’s babies,
Brought our family to life.
(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Jun 15, 2018
Jun 15, 2018 at 4:28 PM UTC
Surrogate pawn
In the light of day
These moves aren't yours
In this game we play
Make a move
Take your time
In the end
It's still all mine
You'll be the first to laugh
At the end of my string
you'll know it's all pretend
'Cause I always win
Feb 11, 2022
Feb 11, 2022 at 3:31 PM UTC
Distant clown, over-grown cow.
Greed, fled, fed, boat-led Sam,
Getting nowhere, near no fear.
Inner, sinner; surrogate's recycle-Bin.
Learned not we have, might constitute.
Flog a sand-bag, get dusty.
Provoke, take a stand for right.
Resolve why the hate. Quite!
Speaking of cows- inquisitive beasts;
Shouldn't be cast the wrong role.
Directors fault; new term. Choice-less.
Exactly. What would you do?
It's not of oppression, strike-down obsession.
Internal bee-stings, are not the painful.
Whatever the previous past, catalyst presentation...
On-going retaliation, stains not a few.
**** Rocks are heavy!
So what of the boat pudding?
Not constructive. World should bear this too.
Culinary dialogue. O'Bam, more custard?
Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 7:46 PM UTC
Today you turn 19,
and I often think about how much things have changed in one year.
These concrete 'remember the date' days make it easier to recall,
like how I felt on Christmas and New Years and Valentines day.
How last year we went out to sushi, I got you that Perma t-shirt, you and your brother took all of us bowling, and you wouldn't hold my hand when there were people around.
Today you turn 19,
And I remember feeling like a surrogate for you to **** your emptiness into.
I remember the constant nagging of not feeling good enough,
the self-loathing that plagued me through our entire relationship.
Hating other people who had never done anything to me just because they meant more to you than I ever would.
A lot has changed in a year.
Today, you turn 19
and I woke up in the arms of another,
and I woke up with a sleepy smile that lasted into morning, afternoon, and night.
I woke up with his name in my mouth and his lips on my shoulders
and I woke happy.
Today you turn 19,
and I can look in mirrors again
and I don't wake up wishing I was someone else
and I don't punish myself for things that aren't my fault
and I don't skip meals trying to look the way you wanted me too
and I don't hate myself anymore.
Today you turn 19,
and I didn't wish you a happy birthday.
I'm better now.
I'm healthy,
and happy,
and loved.
It's almost Spring.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 2:47 PM UTC
Gently you patted my cheek,
with a tenderness piquant,
not known hitherto to us both.
Those quivering long fingers
exude motherliness,I miss ever after,
my mom has gone to her last pilgrimage,
And I crave for at moments of pain intense.
From the layers of memory darkened
by distance,I recover that feeling,
to place you instantly at a level higher,
than that of a sultry lover to whom
desire than anything higher binds together.
In to my lackluster eyes, you peer,
see the ineptly hidden drop of tear,
in the corner shivering plaintively
before rolling down to lose forever,
it's in the memory of my mother,
who rhythmically tapped my back,
led me to the cozy cloud of sleep,
when outside raged the rain storm,
I now gather, to a women I owe
when, time after time she takes
another avatar, of my mother,
momentarily, at times,when earth slips,
from under the feet
unexpectedly.
You did see the storm raging
inside and the child looking for solace.
You hold me close to your *****
and I travel to a world gone by again
even when wolves howl refusing to sleep.
and let me doze off to wake up in another world!
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 12:50 PM UTC
When are we going to wake up to start believing that we should stopped competing and start complimenting to feel like were completing.
We need to be a team player instead of the team leader, replacing that with the idea of being on the same team and building something that's takes on the dream.
How are we going to teach ourselves of what's needed to be taught? If we are communicating to each other's to misperceived when sought to read and believe of what’s being well-received.
Why are we all on this justification to be misrepresentation as to juxtapose when we are responsible for the I could and the I suppose.
To add what is the so what to the now what? But it's the actual what needs to be address in which perhaps misaddressing to the audience of nowadays. As if we are surrogate of the hideaways of the be real today.
It's we and us and all of us to address the matter of comradeship of how compassion of it to be who you are. To create this level of friendship of the desire to follow the footsteps of who you are and as it's start with you and it begins with and ending of you.
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 1:26 PM UTC
It’s unique in jurisprudence,
this case I must decide.
Child custody is disputed
between a woman and her bride.
One spouse supplied a fertile egg,
The other gave it womb.
Deciding custody is a challenge
in the absence of a groom.
Was one woman just a donor?-
having no parental rights.
Was the birth mother just a surrogate?
It’s keeping me up nights.
To which mother should I give the child?
Which one will I turn away?
I cannot cut the child in half
to let each have their way.
Its tragedy when Love had died,
leaving children in its wake.
I gave birth mother custody-
Have I made a bad mistake?
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 8:30 PM UTC
My room - womb:
Self-furnished surrogate;
Protective and exclusive;
Umbilically attached to the Other
Via electrons and electromagnetic waves,
Stimulating half-dead neurons;
Nourishing; pseudo-social life.
A womb - my room:
Self-imposed cocoon,
Refuge and retreat;
Amniotic psychic cushioning,
'Tissue-like; apathetic swaddling
Absorbing impacts of buck-shot cultures;
Allowing light mixed darkly - melancholy.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 3:39 PM UTC
I am your surrogate.
Your surrogate boyfriend
Your surrogate lover
Your surrogate friend.
I'm a stand in.
I'm a waiting room
Before your appointment.
I'm your emotional pick me up
Your needed ego boost.
Close when you want me to be
Far away when you choose.
I am opinionless
I am desireless
I'll fulfill what you need me to
I'll plug the holes
But I'll never make you whole.
I am temporary depression distraction
I am generous
My fingertips will go where you want
When you want
My skin is cold.
I'll be your companion
Until you don't want me around
I'll be thankful for your pity invites.
I'll hide my pain, so I can take yours.
I'll be lonely so that you don't have to be.
Am I time well spent?
When you're with me,
Do you think of where you'd rather be?
Or who you'd rather be with?
I am your surrogate
Your emotion crutch
I'll care so that you don't have to.
Why don't you care?
I'll shown concern and interest
So that you won't have to.
I'll be here for you
So that you don't have to be for me.
I'll give you my heart
So you can keep yours hidden.
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 5:11 PM UTC
---
she
is
defunct
mother of a
strange changeling
she
nurses it upon
her own heart
arterial blood
of deepest crimson
while It
bites the ******
she
accepts her fate
and allows it to feed
until it is bloated
as a leach
she
allows this stillborn
to drain her soul till
there is no longer any
joy nor pain
love nor hate
peace nor fear
lust nor frigidity
she
has named
her child
loneliness
and she
lets it
drain her
til
she
is
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 4:30 AM UTC
We circle around you in absolute awe
Adoring your every murmur
Loving you so completely, almost jealous
Wishing we could be so fresh.
I gather you in my hands, an infant saint
You embrace me with innocent reciprocation
Finding sleep easy in my trusted arms.
Not by genetics, but by love, I guard you
Playing mother for the needs you cannot speak.
Now is your beginning, the slow decline of your novelty.
More perfect now than you ever will be,
Rolling around softly in your untried possibilities
Smiling laughing at nothing, everything
You stare out at us whole hearted with wonder.
But one day, you will no longer need to be mothered.
You’ll stretch out your limbs to leave,
Learn the words to wish me goodbye.
We’ll ship you out, a predestined bundle of reeds
Out to float the river, and find a wife to replace me.
It stings to imagine you then, heavy with age.
I wish you would forsake tradition
And remain a tiny ornament of this family
An emblem of purity against the contemporary.
I know you will outgrow your nurturer
But someday I will be the one in need, helplessly tired
And then you will be to me, what I once was to you
The child will become the giver, the plant become the seed.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 2:43 AM UTC
A deluge of earthly sins,
A waterspout on green leaves,
A hurricane among lull seas,
An equanimity of autumnal eves.
A dilated tale of mundane me.
A million abstruse blocks of C of Co²
A walker among you and me.
A wanderer lost in blue.
Attired by crimson lust of artistry.
A masquerade brew of red wine and dark coffee,
A stark blithe of sanguine comatose,
All drunk and clinging to the thin threads of this unstaged life,
All murdered by the sinical overdose.
The seascape choirs of ocean waves,
Embracing the narcoleptic yellow shorelines,
And evanescent castles
And sail headwind with a mystical concubine.
The iced conundrums of this lost forsaken echoes of winter breeze,
The insanity measured in ones & zeroes,
We're the kings of this deadbeat time,
And praised victories of unsung heroes.
The wanderlust sailors drank the skies,
In mixed cocktails,
And thy heavens sang to this night,
As a melodic madness of wild gales.
Her pale white body declares some love due,
As our lips bled rapture,
And rose a melodramatic cue,
Like words of a closing chapter.
Charged with the flow of adrenal enzymes,
A surrogate from affinity to serendipity,
For in flashback of these forlorn events,
I write this epiphany.
And though these letters are on fire,
And bestowed the bullets over armored heart,
For life exists in the heartache symphonies,
Like a stratagem cliché of painted art.
Call your unfurled knots of wrecked sanity.
A wildfire has gone wild within,
The eloquence thirst of your red lips,
Inked the words of love on this skin.
An audacious lover of seafaring,
Beside the starry onset of a beautiful dawn,
A tide of marvelous mystery,
Whose side are you on?
Its all fiction served with tea,
And through warm sips of this worthy minute,
Change is tempted to render seeds,
That swam through wind, till it escapes and wanders the infinite.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 3:05 PM UTC
very profound need of writing
prevent the act of intelligence
yes
copy paste
copy paste
copy
paste
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 11:06 AM UTC
Of anger, hate, greed and Pride
which is a greater folly
Anger for sure will make
you burn and cause distress
or death to the other. Hate
surrogate of anger, more
overt and consuming but
a child of anger. Greed
seems to have nothing to do
with the above two but breeds
anger and hate towards all
that thwart the insatiable
fire of greed. As there is not
anything that can fulfill the
gastronomy of greed.
Pride though looks pretty
and makes one perky
takes the pride of place
in destroying all possibilities
of human kind. As it is
the pride that sets one
upon a perch that deceives
Reality. A perch that
makes unreal real and the
Truth into Untruth
Anger, hate and greed
need the theater of Pride
to play. Pride is a crown
of thorns that makes
one perceive even pain as
pleasure. Pride is the
Maya, the delusion of life.
Refinement of ignorance
Is not Enlightenment.
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 1:24 PM UTC
In the midweek of twelves months I torched blunts and choked on wet smoke and chamomile tea.
Fretting the niggling giblets of a queasy disrememberance of a sober stroll through your tossed hair salad.
I managed to mangle the marvelous gross lust of our impending
delirium. i farmed bok choy to annoy our local siege. our muskets were polished with misdeeds.
our demons barked, all coy and ravenous in the sweet diffuse of our useless aplomb.
ginger rockets in our thespian numb. you Dis-Oriental surrogate Mom.
You.... flame folding cranes, like a Japanese cancer
with opposable thumbs.
Unstoppable in the dead wink
of an awkward eye
upon your heaving *******
You burn regardless.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC