"survivable" poems
when you crack an egg
you could be baking
-maybe a cake, or cookies
blueberry muffins.
have you ever watched the egg when its cracked
first hit on the big glass bowl.
--a little may ooze out, the white of the egg. it gets on your hands
its annoying. but it washes off.
survivable.
the second hit maybe harder this time.
---more comes out, the shell may break off a little. that **** shell is nesting on your beautifully mixed pile of flour, sugar, and vanilla extract.
****** this time, you fish it out with a fork
disturbing what you've created.
the third hit
----the egg shell, crafted so well to protect inside,
is cracked.
everything. comes. out.
like a river the broken yolk, flows and
twists around the bowl.
and by whisking it under the surface of the all purpose flour,
you only make it more turbulent.
and you get your god **** muffins.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 9:55 PM UTC
time isn't the enemy.
time isn’t an enemy.
time is a friend that should be
wholeheartedly embraced.
it makes moments-
the ones you never want to end-
finite.
it makes them worth remembering
specifically because
they do not last.
time will continue even if you do not.
it’s harsh ways keep people
from feeling scars as
fresh bullet wounds. instead,
it fades.
the pain fades.
it’s a pinch, instead of a bullet that
tears your ribcage into splinters.
it’s survivable pain.
the past is the past
and the present isn't so unbearable.
the past is the past
and the future is bright.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 5:24 PM UTC
***You some other me
some how wherefore
way;
X'YZleeeping;
I call thee;
My darkest nights'
you still push
pull;
My Ability's;
Too hard;
Without;
I'd dare imagine;
To conceive;
Gravity's;
Beyond;
Emc's
Squared;
Beyond;
The ends;
Of Spectrum's;
Off charts;
Either;
Ends...
Overly;
Heavy;
Overly;
Here;
Another;
Less than the Air;
Still;
Imagine;
Somewhere;
Some How;
Three;
Born;
Between;
Certain;
Defiance;
Loves;
Breathes;
Beyond;
Our lives;
Blasphemed;
As parents;
We are everly;
Thank you;
Mommy;
The marvelous;
Miraculous;
All Love;
Joy;
Fun;
Love;
Trust;
Pleasures;
Rest;
Between;
Hands;
Hearts;
Arms;
Heavenly;
Re See Eve'd
The Holy;
Breath;
Blew;
Breathing;
Breathes;
With All;
Our Lies;
Between;
Still;
Names;
Deeply;
Came;
With All;
Power;
Stories;
True;
So Much;
Gratitude;
Grace too;
Without;
Nor;
Would I;
Conceive;
My family;
Though Seven Billion,
One Here Now Ever;
Generation be;
I have,
put you out;
Finally;
Beyond;
Hope;
Horrors;
Pain;
All to,
too hard,
were it possible,
to conceive;
What I thought,
could be survivable,
in all knowing,
all avoidable;
Yet;
Came,
To Be!!
My prime;
Responsibility,
for my family;
Me,
Our Three,
Now four,
Not five;
Still beyond,
I care,
Love,
Friend;
Too,
to hard,
to conceive;
We,
You,
Me,
S
t
i
l
l,
Two,
Family;
To parent,
as One,
No;
I,
We,
My Prime,
Three Beloved,
Sacred Tree;
I Am,
We Need,
Four Way,
Sacred trust,
Primarily!!!***
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 3:06 PM UTC
I'm reading over the notes
that my therapist jotted down
during one of our first sessions.
there is so much trauma
and so many diagnoses.
my therapist says that
I'm not alone, and that
so many people know
a similar type of pain.
she's right. I'm not alone,
because I'm not the only
person to have a therapist
and because I'm not the first
person to be diagnosed
with these conditions
and because right now,
at this very second,
there is someone who
is reading this poem and
relating to these words.
sometimes this thought
is upsetting to me.
it depresses me to think
that other children were
raised by parents who
were like my parents,
and that they've faced
the same type of pain.
other times, this thought
is oddly comforting.
it hurts to think about
the children who grew up
the same way that I did
but it also calms me
to know that there
are other people
who are just like me,
because that means
there are people who
have survived this.
that means that
this is survivable,
and that even if I
sometimes doubt it,
it is possible to thrive.
Jan 10, 2021
Jan 10, 2021 at 11:40 AM UTC
twenty words should suffice.
but let us compress.
can ten arise?
even three survivable.
I need you.
two?
need you
one!
We.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 10:53 AM UTC
Melancholic thoughts in a hazy storm
Somewhere between
Knowing who you are
And what you want to do
Bleary dreams fill the night
Of times you never knew
Stories flutter in and out
Like the seagulls you used to see daily
***** and a flabby grey
Cawing at you when you try and rest
Translucent plans made to be opaque
Fill the speech around me
Lies upon lies
Houses of magnitude built upon
A crumbling foundation of dormancy
Acrid breaths flow as the night wears on
Until the shrill cry of the work clock
Wakes you from dreams
You would rather go back to
Then go back to being a gear
Mountain man as much as you can
Grizzled and survivable
But tame in patterns and behavior
Shame filled nights
Spent filling the liver full of death
And the lungs full of heaven
For you are not what you are
And you never can be
What you want to be
For you are weak in all the wrong ways
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 10:25 PM UTC
flood into
this solid construct
I have built
brick by brick
to make everyday
survivable
another edge crumbles
when whisked off
by granules
of salt soaked regrets.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
i have been there.
i have seen what lies on the other side
of this pain you feel,
and i know it may not seem
like it will ever end,
like it will ever heal,
and part of you really wants it to be gone,
and another part wants to hold onto it,
caught between agony and ecstasy,
and in the end -
you're just not certain what will happen
or where it will end up.
you want to know,
but you're afraid of the answer.
yes, i have been there, too,
and i have learned only one thing:
it is survivable,
and when you come out the other side,
you will be stronger than you ever imagined.
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 8:10 AM UTC
She observed herself
Standing fast in clouds of steam
This felt so unreal.
Remote perspective
Would make survivable the
Dreaded encounter.
The necessities:
Tickets, porter, clock,
Time creeping along.
Maintained a distance
And staunch objectivity
‘Til the last moment.
Final words spoken,
All defenses splintering
She paused, one last look.
One last chance to stay,
Vanquished, punished, forbidden
The wide world’s pageant.
.
Point of inflexion.
The tug of the familiar
The pull of the known
Would invert the arc,
Intended trajectory,
Retrogressively.
And then, there it was:
Unctuous, demeaning smile,
Withering and cruel.
Pierced by well-honed fleer,
She reflexively shuddered
Like fly-stung horseflesh.
Ears roaring; face flushed
She felt foolish, faint-hearted,
humiliated.
One breath, and one more,
Forcing herself to stare down
Scorn and ridicule.
Then chin uplifted
And breath becalmed, she nodded
And scant smiled Adieu.
Thus the poetess
Righted her millinery,
Spun on her bootheel,
Snapped her parasol,
gave her bustle a barely
Perceptible shake,
And with solemn mien,
But mirthful eyes, she set forth
For better morrow.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 12:05 AM UTC
why can't you think
of how your actions
cause negative consequences
where i trip over my own feet
in attempts to get away from you,
so you can't see
where my heart chips, breaks,
and the stones,
falling heavy into the ocean,
that send tidal waves
only one third survivable.
where most of the time
i see no reason to try to swim,
i can't control my arms
and i choose just to drown
in flowing rivers,
and collapse within myself
like a flower that's seen it's
time in the spotlight of life.
you make me cry a lot.
|m.s.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 8:48 PM UTC
My head has become a very hard place to survive in
It is not a wasteland, no,
It does often grow these flowers
But acidic waste does sometimes
Drip in the rivers and streamlines
Of thoughts, floating carelessness
Down canals and connecting neurons
Under bridges that young couples walk over
And the older ones stop to peer to
It oozes bright yellow
Staining the rocks and sand
And bird’s winged-tips
Dying the world a mess of
Fluorescent greens and blues
Illuminating the cloudiest of days
The characters of my brain
Enjoy the toxicity
Jump in the pools formed from acid rain
Raise their faces to the red burned sky
And let each drop absorb into their skin
I do not know why my head has become
An expert on chemical excesses
It is survivable if you let it all
Soak in
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 4:00 PM UTC
I think,
I know who I am.
Do you know who I am?
Or maybe I don’t; after all.
It’s true; I don’t know who I am anymore!
What I do know, is that I try for sincerity,
Try to match ‘your’ forthright honesty,
While disguising how lost I have become,
Which is not an easy task to set oneself.
Do you sense my damaged spirit?
Well, my heart was lost long ago,
I fixed it, though! At least, I tried.
Yeah, sure, it’s not perfect: but what is?
Understand, those wounds went deep,
That’s the trouble with loving, giving,
Opening up, before the fated falling.
Even with distance, a virtual world away,
Always the landing, the dreaded crash,
The scattered pieces of shattered affection,
Embarrassing detritus of human emotion,
Becoming flotsam on a soughing breeze.
The confetti of feelings; unrecognisable.
A whole person, just floating away,
Left to wander, bereft, unwanted,
Loved no more, until inside; something dies,
Desire, crushed into nothingness: dead.
Survivable, though, oh yes, never the end,
Love is unique, a true, ******* phoenix,
Preening gaudy feathers, calling, calling,
Forgetting the pain, the yearning,
As it rises, seeking, wanting, needing,
Searching for that elusive phenomena,
After all, it’s more than just attention,
Surely, way more than that, surely!
If we’re honest, we all need to be loved,
What is life without ever caring?
A friendship devoid of true sharing?
Just existence, shadows and dust.
I do know who we are; even what we are,
As do you, if you search deep inside,
Or, maybe I don’t, after all,
Do you know who I am?
I know who I am,
I think.
Sep 15, 2019
Sep 15, 2019 at 7:09 AM UTC
in the moment the cars collided,
i thought i must be dead,
certain the impact could not be survivable,
certain i was finally released, but
the hit should have come harder.
shattered glass & a violent blow to the head
was not enough to sever my tie to life.
the crash left me bruised blue-black
& awash in the aftermath
of sudden exhilaration
at finally tasting oblivion
even if only for a second,
even if i still came through alive.
i didn’t want to be.
this summer, i flirted fearlessly
with suicide. swallowed poison pills
& played with sharp things
in hopes of writing an end.
when the headlights raged in,
blinding me with light & sound,
i was ready.
i thought, take me.
i thought, let me go.
i thought, set me free.
months later, lying in my bed,
immobilized with my first panic attack,
the tears came bitter & unyielding.
i told you i thought i might be dying again,
but this time, i wasn’t ready.
this time, i had a reason
to stick around
a little bit
longer.
the only difference between august and november
was you.
i wish i had the self-preservation
to want life on my own,
to be self-sustaining,
to need nothing but myself
but the wiring of my brain
is painful & incomplete.
you are everywhere i look,
your sweaters residing in my dresser drawers,
photographs of us filling my scrapbook,
songs i can never listen to the same again
without being reminded of you.
you said, i love you
you said, you are beautiful
you said, how could anyone walk away from you?
all my life, i have learned the art of losing
no one can be counted on to stay.
all i want, all i need, is something lasting
something permanent.
i search for just one indelible thing
& hoping it will be you,
that cracks me open at the fault lines.
leaves me breathless & choking
on dreams that might just
slip away
again.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 10:17 AM UTC
just when you thought your heart was pure
untouched, faithful to your first love
you never felt real pain
but the time will come
how i sorry i feel for you
and hope you never have to feel it
yet it's inevitable
your first experience
will be feeling you never felt
and you never get use to them
they make you cry
you will say things
you never thought possible
and yes it hurts
it sometimes hurts so bad
you don't want to be alive
it is survivable, it does pass
but it may build a wall
a wall you cannot see
or may even understand
you may be vulnerable
and jump back in
afraid of being alone
these feeling change in time
when your on your 10 love for most
some marry
for whatever reason
but they usually end
marriage is great for some
yet hard for most
love
it's hard to take
it's hard to come by
if you find
do what you have to
to keep it real
real love
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 4:27 PM UTC
trust me, i never want to
leave the poetic trance,
but tonight
i found out
everything about
the strain in looking straight,
we are nothing
but virgins for selfish desires.
look to your right,
who's with you?
who's that person
devotedly and passionately
holding you by the arms
and never letting go?
the hollowness in it
provides
no ledges or windowsills
to save you from the
survivable half-storey fall.
it's always shitfate,
always sullen aubergine
polaroid shots.
what shitluck to save you
from your yearnful desires?
head to the valleys,
the flood is tricky.
this poem is hiding something.
the heir can't be trusted.
the glimpse
is a catchy math rock jam
to keep you going
and going
and going
and going
and going
and going
and going. . . .
we both know all too well,
our pain never fails
to amuse me even at this point.
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 6:22 PM UTC