"switching" poems
I am writing this just to keep sane
Stop switching lanes and deal with the pain
I’m going to stay same and never give in to shame
I don’t see this as a game, what I’m saying is real
That’s why you feel every line that I spill
Every emotion comes from the notion
That we are the panacea for the poison
Explosion of our hearts started with the sparks
That ignited our greed amidst the dark
So now we find ourselves led by the misled
Bred like a hoard of cattle waiting to be shred
We focus on materials and ignore the cries
‘Cause it’s easier to watch from an iPad, as a baby dies
We work, struggle, and beg for a promotion
Instead of pouring our hearts into a positive devotion
Every person fueled by their own ambition
And integrity is at loss on our way to this mission
By Vladislav Vagner
http://www.poemjunction.net
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 3:13 PM UTC
The way the sun filters
through the window,
switching over the dashboard
as we change directions.
Creating freckles on your skin.
The way it makes your hair glint
red,
spreading out to flicker in your
eyes.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
You put garbage in you get garbage out
Health food fanatics know what I am talking about
McDonalds, Arby’s and all those Buffets
Sluggish citizens working Twelve to ten
And to cover up their poor nutrition
We soup up the brackish black brew
Killing ourselves with more caffeine till
We collapse
You put garbage in you get garbage out
Good teachers with years of experience
Know what I am talking about
The tweet, the face book
Are superficial connections
Binge watching brain-dead reality show people
Speed reading unverified Articles
Peer reviewed paper by academic writers
Don’t get the press the talking heads
With party lines and hateful sentiments get
You put garbage in you get garbage out
Any poet philosopher knows what I am talking about
Flashing screens switching scenes while twitching teens
Sit texting banal and ephemeral things
No grand dreams but to be normal
No expansion of the human potential
Just block and block of picket fence prisons
Dreams are limited to advertised fantasies
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 1:59 PM UTC
I'm not spewing no hate, I'm just being honest.
This not a Disney Channel movie, no Pocahontas.
Not really a fan of Father's Day, cause i ain't have a father.
I felt as a kid, he was just like why bother.
As i got older i wished that he had tried harder.
Consistent phone calls, that would have been a good starter.
But i ain't get any of it, and soon i was like **** it.
I got tired of waiting for something and receiving nothing.
At a point in time i started to hate him.
My heart for him was cold, like who the hell wants to chase him.
That feeling went on for a couple years.
My heart and mental kept changing like i was switching gears.
Since we being honest recently those feelings stopped.
You can't hate a stranger and truth is i don't know my pops.
Although you said you love me and i said i love you back.
Love and hate has twin rules, so what type of love is that.
I mean it's not sincere.
It's like you're pushed to say it like you're pressured by your peers.
And I'm not saying that it's sad and that brings me tears.
But man-to-man it ain't something that i want to hear.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 4:05 PM UTC
Do you hate the way
that our magnetized times
turn us all to metal shavings--
push and pull--charged each
day to fill up negative space
with negative attraction?
Were you repulsed when polarities
changed?
Or was that me?
Flipping switches
switching sides
siding
with pivot points showing, caught
with pants down?
"Be a man now!"
While the female end
of the port calls out,
"Shipwreck! Shipwreck!
All men down!"
Count me out at minus 4
it leaves a balance: minus 3
At minus 10, our blood could freeze
and fall back earthward; blood red snow.
Caught on the tongue it tastes like pennies.
Tastes just like
the metal shavings
we become
in magnetized times.
Polarized
and "Family Sized." Underpaid
Overfed. Neutralized America.
Greatest country in the ******* world.
Right?
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
That week was so hot,
every shotgun house gasped,
windows flung,
screen doors striking wooden frames,
the squawk of rusty springs.
Touching skin felt like punishment
at first,
then penance,
then prayer.
We were thin, androgynous,
switching cut-off jeans,
sharing tank tops,
slick with sweat and shaved ice.
Strays ourselves,
barefoot thieves,
pirates of the quarter.
Hibiscus syrup stained our mouths
outside the Prytania,
where The Abyss flickered
and you cried like a boy
pretending he didn’t.
Inside your walk-up,
we dipped into quiet love
like bread in stew.
The radio’s crackle carried The Ink Spots,
which I recognized but couldn’t name.
You mouthed every note like a secret
you wanted me to guess.
Faint smiling lines near your eyes
from knowing,
like you’d seen me
long before we met.
Not woman,
not man,
just two bodies
leaning toward the same heat.
I wouldn't see your fall or your winter.
When the seasons change,
I’ll be gone,
back home,
watching rain from a train window,
each drop undoing what we were.
That last night,
you placed your key by the door.
I saw it,
watched it glint,
and said nothing.
The snails were climbing.
The air was too sweet.
You slept through goodbye.
I left the key where it lay.
Jul 21, 2025
Jul 21, 2025 at 3:16 PM UTC
Dear diary,
I just can't explain the amount of thoughts that I have daily!,
that continuous mind charter that I have daily....!
I'm filled with thoughts, every minute, and every second of my life.
My mind just keeps switching from one thought to another,
& The amount of day dreaming....
well!!!
you know my silly screaming ??!!!
Sometimes, they are really funny!
And they keep making me smile,
so that I keep glowing!
But some thoughts...,,,
They are really too dark,
That ,when I confront them,
it breaks my heart apart!!
I'm like a confused soul,
who's in search of meaning of life...
Who's in search of peace ,
Who's in search of shine!
But the moment I start thinking,
ugh!!!My head starts cracking!!
I just can't concentrate on one particular thing !
Today, if I feel like being a doctor,
Tomorrow I might think of being an engineer,
& If today I feel like being an accountant,
Tomorrow I might feel like,
" I just need an Oscar...!"
An Oscar for what??
I don't know ...!!!
It's sounds too cool and looks good to show !
Will I work for that award?...
honestly, I don't know !
I'm so lazy,
I don't even get up to "shoo" a crow !
But hey!...there's one amazing part about me,
Guess what ?
"Anyone can come and speak to me."
Being an overthinker,
has also opened up my mind,
I don't form immediate opinions,
till I get a clear sight !
I really don't know this journey of thoughts well??!!!
Will it ever be stable ?
Will it ever end ?
But ...If it ends,
I'll die for sure,
But hey!,
I'm sure there is some way to cure!
Which way?
Hey !...I don't know again !
Is that way gonna be simple
or another amazing pain!
But hey hey hey!!! I don't know why did I write this ?!
Was I trying to find a solution
or was encouraging my thoughts already in a continuous motion?!
But hey!,
it's ok if you're an overthinker,
Try to be amazing my friend,
even if nothing is clear!
Jul 29, 2020
Jul 29, 2020 at 5:28 AM UTC
My lipstick
My lipstick a deep shade of burgundy
Traced outline of my imprint on the inner most part of your thigh
Excites me!
Thoughts leave me lingering rolling around in your bed
Kisses like foot prints of a path to your navel
My lipstick compliments your skin tone
He grabs the delicate
Splendor the curvature
Which is ***
Mounted upon strength
Switching places a dispiteous
Gaze of disambiguation and a subtle smile
Might be here for awhile
My lipstick
Smeared along your neck deep crimson
Leaves intricate detail of mouth on
Caramel colored skin. Sweet like a work of art
My lipstick traced outline on the inner most part
Of your thigh.
Written by MONICA CHRISANDTRAS HINES
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
How do you explain that your bones are the coal used as breeding ground for a fire? How do you explain that there's a fire raging inside of you, setting every inch of your body and thoughts ablaze? Like a wildfire destroys the forest, this pain is knocking me down and smoldering me.
But how can you say you're in ashes when your body is unbruised?
No collapsed limbs, no heaving lungs, no unconscious mind -only puffy eyes and a tired tongue?
How do you explain that the tightness one gets in their throat upon hearing unexpectedly terrible news is a common feeling of yours - a side effect of the blood that runs through all of your veins? That even though you know you can do something, the words 'you physically cannot' are flooding your brain like a drug and poisoning every choice you try to make?
How do you explain that every move you make feels like walking on a tightrope that seems to never end. How each step sends a shiver down your spine; trying not to fall, trying to finish the task, trying to stop the anxiety -but you can never reach the end because your destination keeps switching from left to right despite the progress you've made.
How do you explain that you're dying when everyone see's you as perfectly alive?
NJ2016
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 11:37 PM UTC
Under
The rule of law
With a great smile
She plays mathematical game.
Sometime,
Adding,
Subtracting,
Multiplying,
Dividing,
Switching
But rarely,
Stopping
On query, she replied
“You are getting pill for”,
Pain
Sleep
Wake up
Dream
Breathe
Smile
Forget, and to
Live
Disclosure
My only drug dealer
My Doctor.
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 6:36 PM UTC
Writing for me is simple..
Lyrically ready to maximize my potential..
I have something to say I don't blow hot air like a inner tube...
Tell them liars they need to relax..
I am the type to push it to the max..
Switching gears and lanes until the governor snap ..
I cannot be contain..
Like the green hulk fighting the thing
I wish you could take a walk through my brain..
You would see different things depending on the time of day...
Like dead people, relatives that passed in my memories they live...
Times of my youth when I was a kid...
I didn't smile much.
I was a good kid I didn't wild much...
Pops sold crack so I styled much ...
Gun shots in Baltimore, my pops died once...
In my mind I question a ****
Like are they always ready to ****
Or does life have them Close to the edge..
Of a cliff a jagged hill
And they don't want to die in this dog eat dog world..
So they let blood spill..
I wonder if I was a G would I bang.
Red or blue claim a gang.
Be like Larry Hoover...
A young shooter...
In and out of prison I maneuver
Run the block like a ruler...
Be part of the the trash like manure
Be a coke runner a drug mover..
Corrupting the body of drug users. ..
Would I be known as a survivor
Escaping death more than MacGyver
Embrace the streets as truth knowing that's it a liar...
Nickname my gun human torch cause it fires
I wonder cause honestly I don't have a gun
This poetry is my weapon..
I am only gangsta through my lyrical aggression
Day 1 down...I am up to the challenge.
A poem a day ..to test my talent...
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 4:14 AM UTC
I love spicy food.
Chips and dips
And chips in dips.
God bless hot sauce!
I would always go for the spicy option.
Yeah, I'm one of those weirdos;
The ones who love the slight sting it leaves
just like how it feel
to kiss those lips of yours
but I still slurp every word, nay,
every lie that comes out of it.
Your warmth comforts me even in the summers.
Even in the summer
when you told me
you didn't feel the same way anymore.
Maybe I should consider switching to mild sauce.
It may not be as exciting
but, at least, it won't burn off my lips.
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 10:28 AM UTC
I met you over Facebook...
You were a stranger to me,
I knew not you,
or your personality.
You were a random, I found you on Facebook.
I said, ''Hi, I know you don't know me and that this is probably weird, but, hi''.
You were cute.
I didn't think it would hurt to add you and maybe talk to you a little.
About a month after I had sent that message I found out I was
switching schools...
Little did I know you went to that school.
We started talking a lot more,
we became good friends.
...I had a crush on you...
I met you about a little while after, you were so cute.
I walked in the door and you just stared at me.
I was frozen.
I was new, I didn't know what to do.
I sat in the back of the room, I kept to myself and was very quiet.
Little ol' you wouldn't let that happen.
You were nice, you talked to me, your friend on the other hand... That little creepy ******* just stared at me.
You and I started talking but so did your friend and I.
I had you and him both wrapped around my little pinky.
An accomplishment any girl in that class would love to have achieved.
Well, I dated him.
I dated my crushes best friend.
The creepy little **** who would stare at me for hours on end.
After no more than a month, he dumped me.
My feeling for Billy, my previous crush started to stir.
Why?
We became great friends.
Best friends.
I was really sad when I found out you were dating my best friend.
You guys had been dating ever since I had gotten there and I now just found out.
Boy don't I feel dumb.
That relationship you two had was cute...
But, it was short lived.
You told me you liked me...
I was shocked,
happy,
astonished,
and then again disappointed.
I told myself to wait,
told myself, ''Oh. He'll come around,''
It never happened.
I fell in love with you.
You invited me over, so I went.
We had fun.
We watched movies...
We played footsies?
Yeah, it happened.
The next Friday after that we hung out and you tutored me...
Wasn't exactly tutoring...
More like a kissing class.
Oh well, I didn't care...
At the moment.
We we're caught up in the moment, and I head you whisper something in my ear.
''Let's make it official,''
I said, ''Let's do it''
You picked me up and carried me into the bedroom,
laid me down on the bed, and passionately kissed me on the lips.
I kissed you back, life was getting better already.
March 22nd, 2012.
It's our anniversary, also my Dad's birthday.
That day leads us to where we are today.
Still together,
still in love,
reaching for our forever.
I never knew that a random guy I added on Facebook would end up meaning so much to me.
I never dreamed I would find someone I love this much.
I could never ask for more.
Now every chance my Dad get he sais, ''You and him are the best birthday present I had ever gotten!''
I wish he was still here today to say that, he left about two months into our relationship.
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 6:18 AM UTC
I should have been a boxer....the way I stick and move when I write. The only person I know that can make the sun shine at night.
I should have been a boxer....the way i fight with words to paint a picture. I'm using the jab to set you up for the knockout blow. I'm looking for your tendencies and when i spot it......down you will go.
I should have been a boxer....float like a butterfly sting like a bee. A sign of honor to a fellow poet.....and inspiration to me.....Muhammad Ali. I should be a boxer the way i study my craft and observe the legends of the game. It's all all about the passion.....I could care less about fame.
I should have been a boxer.....you can't be good unless you train. I have my book ....my pen .....ideas in my brain. I have so many thoughts I may need another brain. I'm on the speed bag so my brain is quick with the flow....switching styles like a southpaw.....which way is it coming? I guess you will never know.
I should have been a boxer....because i really like to fight. Instead of gloves I utilize my pen to pulverize the paper and annihilate those foes and lost loves....father's who left their children at start. They couldn't finish the fight .....was he a coward or a scarecrow.....born without a heart.
I should've been a boxer.....because my defense is always up. I hide my poems inside a book .....it's highly guarded so don't try to look. The thoughts inside are g14 classified....so I'm hiring security guards.....if you want to gain entrance.....you must present an identification card.
I should've been a boxer....because I'm always fighting. My thoughts are knocked to the paper and bleeds black or red. I write about life .....because I know nothing about being dead. Although, I been knocked around .....and have had to take a standing eight.....I leaned on the ropes and learned to wait. Still working the jab......which are the words i write.
I should've been a boxer.....one hitter quitter and then it's time to say "Goodnight!"
Ladies and Gentlemen......we have a unanimous decision. The new poetic champion of the worldddddd!!! ......I should've been a boxer.....Yeah right.
Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 5:36 AM UTC
My New Year’s Eve
was spent
collecting fragmented recollections
to confirm
that my dignity
had truly died.
Soberly,
I perused
the bars and clubs,
and walked aimlessly
up and down crowded streets,
feeling like my life
had somehow
been shifted
into slow motion,
while the rest of the world,
engaging in joyous celebration
and ffestivities,
was knocked out of rhythm
from my existence.
How in the world
could the clock strike midnight?
How could people embrace, and kiss
at the dropping of the ball?
How could they laugh and smiile,
and wish each other a “Happy New Year!”?
More importantly,
how could those god **** traffic lights
have the audacity
to continue changing
from red to ggreen to yellow,
then back to red again.
My dignity had just died.
My dignity had just died.
My dignity was dead.
My dignity was gone.
In the days and weeks
that followed the death of my dignity,
I noticed
that life faded
from colloquial to iconic,
like something mystical,
or an intangible object
of deep longing.
And recurrent images
of those *******
obnoxious traffic lights
insensitively
switching colors
replay in my mind
to remind me
over and over
in the greens (go),
the reds (stop),
and the yellows (be careful),
that my dignity
had died.
Memories
of the ddays
before my dignity had died
run through my mind
like old home movies
with centuries
of black and white film
stuck on repeat,
and slowly fraying,
around the edges,
because of the harsh demands of time.
It is life’s
harsh and cruel irony
that these images,
once my greatest joy,
have now become
inflicters
of the greatest pain
that I
have ever felt.
Like a sound wave
of pain,
so powerful,
that it has silenced
any other pain
that my heart
has ever heard.
So now I know,
it is true
life is a bitch.
The fading
of my dignity
has made me
overly aware
of the earth
turning on its axis.
As spring approached,
for the very first time,
I noticed
the way the flowers
seem reluctant
to bloom,
as if uncertain
of their
welcome invitation.
Such a cruel reality,
that the flowers
would choose
to bloom,
and nature
would choose
to carry on,
slipping
further and further
away from the day
that my dignity died.
And still,
to this day,
those ****
traffic lights
keep switching colors
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 8:32 AM UTC
Poema Code Switching
By Aylin Soto-Aleman, Mercedes Caballero, Jesus Martinez, Marta Silva, Alex Alejandre
16.4.15
El final de una etapa
The end,
The beginning of a new journey
un camino
A un mundo extranjero
Un deseo, un sueño
A dream
Haciendo mi propio path
un camino
rostros nuevos , new failures
historias nuevas , new experiences
a sequel to my story, con hojas rotas
y mojadas
INMIGRACION
La memoria es un salto
entre continentes
crossing invisible borders
swimming in the rios
corriendo debajo del sol
La memoria es los abuelitos
ancestors cooking arroz y frijoles,
flan, driving through for hamburgers,
popcorn, sipping on horchata
Basilica
No todo lo que brilla es oro
not all rainbows and butterflies,
Clarita y sus cien años
Ruben y sus Tacos del Camino Real
El rancho
Midnight movies
Quiero a quien me quiera
It’s been a long day, without you my friend
Mexicanos al grito de guerra
Oh, say can you see by the dawn’s early light
Tepechitlan, Jerecuaro, Guanajuato
Long Beach, Argentine, KCK,
Chihuahua,
A Distance Between Us
El puente, the bridge.
Three Little Pigs en casa, at home,
don't step out marranitos,
la llorona te va a llevar
Memory is a leap
between continents
Cruzando fronteras invisibles,
Nadando en los rivers
Running under the sun
Born in different places
Pero las mismas intenciones
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC
Andi Balise combined a half page of a short story, “Thanks Going Without Saying” by Liz Balise, with half a page of an essay by Klee, “On Modern Art”, from a book called Modern Artists on Art, 10 Unabridged Essays, edited by Robert L. Herbert. With some small edits and line-breaks comes this miracle of a poem:
Painting a Function Different
I peek out over the railing of reality’s magic
Beyond the porch-floor
Minerva hangs her wash
making the invisible visible
Eighty two and three quarters deaf
she doesn’t notice
But this is, in fact, reality
Has always been this way—
Bent and bird-like existence
Balanced on two twigs—always busy—
Her task, is the *********** of space
Cutting coupons, crushing aluminum cans, ironing
The three phenomena which I must....
Things no one notices—
climbing on the abstract surface of a picture
Switching the curtains
God! I wish from the infinity of space..she wouldn’t…!
It figures that—
Rusty, her cat, is weaving in fortune or misfortune
I try to fix them—
Her ankles now
And she curses at accidental quality
from the corner of her mouth
which has only one form
Clothespin or cigarette?
Long johns and animals and men in heaven
and bureau scarf and sheets—all, non-infinite deities
surround us translucent, contained
I decide what to get for her birthday—
We are good friends
through painting a function different
For me?
Predestined necessity.
Minerva?
forgets her manners
and eats like a survivor—
Thanks going without saying.
Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 2:12 PM UTC
You shouldn't kiss guardrails
Because they have chapped lips
And the jagged edges
Will slice your tongue
Whenever you touch them
You shouldn't kiss guardrails
Because metal on metal
Isn't a forgiving sound
But you already know that
From when you had your first kiss
And you were each wearing braces
You shouldn't kiss telephone poles
Because they are sensitive
And will bite your lip with an electric current
But not in the way that you were hoping
And rear view mirrors aren't for decoration
But you never bothered to look at them
When you were desperately switching lanes
And speedometers aren't for your entertainment
But you always enjoyed watching the needle fluctuate
As though your life depended on it
(It did)
And the high beams of oncoming cars
Aren't Christmas lights in restaurant windows
And crashing through the windshields
Won't bring you any closer
To the apple pie the bakery down the street made
That always reminded you of home
And even though you no longer recognize
The town you grew up in
Or the boy you fell in love with
You shouldn't kiss guardrails
Because they might kiss you back
But not in the way that you were hoping.
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
My Grandmother's Hands
My Grandmother's hands told many tales
Of scrubbing steps and broken nails
Hand-washing clothes in enamel sink
Red football socks turned white towels pink
When not baking cakes at the old gas stove
Rag-rugs with old scraps of material she wove
Pantry shelves filled with powdered egg
Homemade rice pudding sprinkled with nutmeg
Sea-coal burning on an open coal fire
Bread on a toasting fork burning like a pyre
Grandma plumping up pillows from beneath granda’s head
Applying ointment to sores caused by being confined to bed
Hours spent at auctions bidding with her hand
Buying an incomplete bed wasn't what she planned
Back home in time for tea, crumpets and homemade strawberry jam,
I can still recall the smell of it, bubbling in the pan
Switching tv channels with a flick of her wrist
That’s how we did it back then, when remotes did not exist
Working hard all of her life, meeting everyone's demands
Every line and wrinkle told a story
On my Grandmother's hands
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 11:09 AM UTC
when i'm sitting alone at night
in the quietness of my large and aging house
i hear so many noises i'm oblivious to
during the daylight
the clicks of the air conditioning
switching on and off,
the creaking of the floors and walls,
the subtle squeaking the fan makes
in the living room
it's as if my house is sighing
it's sighing at me
disappointed in me
he asks why i don't notice him
during the day
why i only notice him late at night
when i'm lonely
and there are no other noises
to entertain my ears
i tell him that i'll try to listen more closely
in the morning, but then i fall asleep
and i wake up and i do not remember
what i promised my sweet house
so he continues to sigh all day long
hoping that at some point
even if it's late at night when i'm lonely
and there is no other noises
to entertain my ears
i will notice him again
if only for a little while
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 6:25 PM UTC
What do you want from me?
Borderline personality disorder, why have you chosen me?
Have I not suffered enough in this pitiful life?
All I ask is to have a stable identity and sense of self
But you come creeping into my development and overtake
Labels are nothing
Labels are everything
No in between with anything,
Black and white thinking
Love or hate
Mania or depression
In the span of 5 minutes.
The only constant you allow me to feel is my hatred for you.
Every moment is a swirling vortex of losing hope and
Clinging to anyone who so much as smiles in my direction
But I suppose
When everything is switching
Faster than a traffic light
Because of you.
The thing to be most thankful for
Is to be able to hold onto you.
Borderline personality disorder, why have you chosen me?
My only sense of self, since you change everything else
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 11:47 PM UTC
I cant tell you how much the hush hush hurts,
the gaps,
[the deliberately left blanks]
the silences that make me scared of saying words out loud.
It's the switching of meanings that does it,
all the tip toe awkwardness
the swift, unconscious side steps.
It's the whole long stretch of silence,
the whole deliberate
accidental
hush hush of something I never even knew the name of.
It's the casual,
forgettable
drops of slights
that I'm still turning
over and over.
It's a hush hush never intended to be malicious but
the quiet twists and tears
and so I can never tell you how much the hush hush hurts
because the silence keeps me hush hushed too.
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 4:12 AM UTC
I'm always switching from optimist to pessimist,
why not realist?
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 1:42 PM UTC