"temperamental" poems
Always walking that line
Always tempting fate
All these temptations calling me
I attempt to numb pain
Got the temperature rising
Know I can be temperamental
My temper’s ‘bout to unleash
Doing something regretful
A temporary escape
From two to ten on the dial
The temper-tantrum and screams
Like a tempestuous child
Perhaps a temporal shift
Like Anty Em’ on the farm
The tempest carries away
Ship wrecked alone I am gone
My template shows me the way
Temptress I can not escape
Contemptuously I have temperance
Finding tempo ‘til break
A temple shrine I pay tribute
Silently contemplate
Lord please grant me forgiveness
For my wrongs and mistakes
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 7:12 PM UTC
Sunlight makes its move beyond the safe Clouds.
Clouds finally let the Sunlight go free.
Sunlight reaches toward the awaiting greenery.
Clouds hesitate to question its judgment.
Sunlight grasps the hands of Earth.
Clouds spy on Sunlight's careful movements.
Sunlight heats the world in a clear embrace.
Clouds meander further away in hiding.
Sunlight ignites passion within the plants.
Clouds rely on an evaporation vice.
Sunlight relaxes in the west, pleased.
Clouds find solace in the salty air.
Sunlight wakes up to the smiling blossoms.
Clouds glare from a distance.
Sunlight gazes at its new abundance of fruit.
Clouds long for a sweet release.
Sunlight notices its once dear lover.
Clouds acknowledge Sunlight's attention.
Sunlight begins to scorch the ground.
Clouds play upon the mountains.
Sunlight angers at the coyness.
Clouds laugh at the needy air.
Sunlight intensifies to torch the trees.
Clouds begin to realize the desire.
Sunlight glances in the direction of its hope.
Clouds gather up courage to make its move.
Sunlight begs for saturated fulfillment.
Clouds glide toward Sunlight in sweet surrender.
Sunlight kisses its precious love.
Clouds cherish its tender caress.
Sunlight probes its worth by revealing true emotion.
Clouds relinquish control and release the passion.
Sunlight holds the clouds so dearly.
Clouds feel peace letting loose all emotion.
Sunlight stares amazed at the Clouds.
Clouds feel the warmth of Sunlight.
Sunlight makes its move beyond the safe Clouds.
Clouds yet again let the Sunlight go free.
Earth can't survive without this temperamental love affair.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC
if words are food for the mind,
then here is a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then here is why i'm so pained.
abandoned, abhorrent
abnormal, absent
abstract, abuse
addicted, anxious
betray, bitterly
blank, blasphemy
bloodless, breakdown
breathless, brutal
captive, casually
catastrophe, cautiously
change, cigarettes
crucial, clueless
damaged, dangerous
deadly, disastrous
disheartened, disconcerting
dramatic, dreading
eager, eccentric
ecstasy, eerie
effete, effortless
embittered, excess
faded, failure
faintly, fallacy
faltering, fatally
fearfully, finally
garbage, gawky
gibberish, gloomy
gone, goodbye
graphic, gratify
hallucinate, harshly
hazy, heartless
hectic, helpless
hesitant, hit-and-miss
idiotic, idly
ignorant, intimacy
illogical, imaginative
infatuated, intoxicated
jealousy, jittery
journey, journal
joylessly, judicial
junk, juvenile
keen, killing
knavish, knocking
knockout, knotty
knowingly, knowledge
laborious, lacking
lame, languishing
lifeless, literature
lovelorn, lugubrious
madness, maintenance
make-believe, malaise
mean, melancholic
mellow, melodramatic
naff, naivety
nameless, naturally
nauseous, nebulous
neglected, nervous
oasis, objectionable
obliged, obliterate
oblivion, obscurity
obsolete, one-and-only
pacifist, pained
pale, panicky
paradise, paralyze
passionately, passively
raging, ranting
rationalize, raving
realistic, reasonable
rebellious, reckless
saboteur, sadness
sake, sameness
sanity, satisfactory
scar, steady
taint, tangled
tasteless, tearful
telling, temperamental
terror, theoretical
unaffected, uncanny
uncommon, unconsciously
undesirable, uneasy
unfortunate, untidy
vaguely, vanish
vanity, vanquish
versatile, vicious
violence, voracious
waiting, waking
walkout, wanting
wasteful, weary
withering, wrecking
if words are food for the mind,
then you've seen a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then no wonder i'm so pained.
-djs
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
Sweet temperamental bliss,
I will never allow myself to taste you again.
Even through the sugar-coated blows
it took the shocking bitterness of my own blood,
collecting at the tip of my tongue
to realize this is not
the flavor of love.
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 12:40 AM UTC
Like air,
my presence is gentle and quiet.
Yet I am temperamental;
from breezes to gusts,
from gusts to whirlwinds -
a turbulence derived from perceived planes.
Still, I stand before you,
eccentricity that does not deviate from its kind manifest.
And with this golden cup,
I will rain upon you from the heavens above,
cleansing the earth.
I am Aquarius.
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 5:37 PM UTC
Oakes-photo, hypocrisy and flagrant mirky plateau. Brimming celestial warrants overcrowding public housing systems. North-South lights, sell costly iPhone Apps; and then there are Social Societies of non-verbal delight. Password protected non-profitable and over-costly educations of no reward or biblical synonyms. Catastrophizing hash-tag dot.com. Weary party going poster children with glowing anemone guts, fruity looped cantlings, ravenous scattered supper clubbed coughing up ******* on their strange and central affairs unit. Overcome the candisation and sugary affairs of any of the ***** and pops that erstwhile matter less and less. We are speaking of nomenclatures that don't arise. Promises and by which confession aloof romanticizes every Tom dicking Mary that carries the theory of sustainable energy, prussian blue, and irregular browsing.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:46 AM UTC
*Elemental Metamorphosis & Transcendental Milestones,
Sempiternal Origamis Of Her Temperamental Clones,
Spiraling Perpetuities & Her Sacrosanct Fortitude,
Procreating Tipsy Ruptures In Her Permeating Solitude,
Perplexed Momentum & Her Outlandish Constellations,
Nuclear Decay Of Her Masked Radiations,
Verbal Shadows & Her Tranquil Ascendance,
Encasing Her Tears In Liquefied Transcendence,
Yearning Oddities & Entropic Oceans,
Vitalizing Inexorable Emotions Into Phosphorescent Potions,
An Hourglass Existence Of Her Fabricated Virility,
Dwelling In Quantum Ascents Of Ardent Agility,
Silver Ghosts Of Her Prismatic Abyss,
Convicting Glass Houses In Her Ecstatic Bliss,
Telepathic Shades & Hollow Palisades,
Detrimental Novelists On Uncharted Crusades,
Pernicious Scars In Her Profound Gaze,
Erupting Genesis Inside Her Dimensional Maze,
Perplexed Periphery & Digital Fictions,
Annexed By Her Hourglass Depictions,
Breakdown Sanity & Her Concealed Screams,
Lifelike Dewdrops In Her Visionary Dreams,
Satellite Searchlights & Love//Less Progenic Mutation,
Paralyzed Sunlight Sparking Genetic Alteration,
Monochromatic Streams & Cinematic Realms,
Static Screams Of Her Toxic Schemes.
- 05:43 AM -*
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 11:18 PM UTC
i want to be the sidewalk under her soles
the gum in her hair
that dark slick of mascara.
i want to breathe the world from her lungs
settle into her bones and
feel it through her fingers.
there is a perfect mauve i picture on her nails.
so yeah i guess i have a type.
dark hair glasses a threat or two-
enough mystery to keep me busy.
and yeah i should have warned you about my
wandering eye.
temperamental.
but it’s not like you’re real when you’re gone
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 3:52 PM UTC
"We fit together so nicely,"
You said
And I completely agree
Something so right, so meant to be.
It starts with a sweat
And a intense wash of cold
In reaction to the heat
On the inside of me.
A shiver-- or two
Quaking my form
And there you are
Between my thighs.
I'm holding my breath
Or I'm breathing heavy
And I'm biting my lip
Cause it feels so nice.
We fit together like puzzle pieces
Rocking and stretching our limbs
Colliding in a moment
Of a rising ******
Then it comes quick
Only a split second to think
To realize what is really happening
Just long enough to react.
Starting with a flicker
Of a fiery sensation
Between my legs
And it spreads, like a wildfire
It pops
Explodes
And I feel it everywhere
A release.
My muscles ****
And it's like I'm trying to escape from my own skin
My jaw clenches
Then goes slack.
My eyes roll
My mind a kaleidoscope of thoughts
There's no sense of control
Just waves of reactions upon reactions.
A thousand different tickles
Down my thighs and to my toes
Like the sensation of warm water
When you're bitterly cold.
After the initial shake of the explosion
My mind is useless
And I have to put myself back in my body
Because for a moment I was free.
The tension is gone
Every part of me is loose
And everything is sensitive and temperamental
Like a candles flame.
For a moment there's nothing
Nothing but my body
No mind
No thoughts
No silly people things
Just the raw
The primal
The true being I am
And I see you..
You're between my thighs
Starstruck by the moment
Marveling at my body
As it rolls into yours.
I'm ****** back into the act
Like a magnet to it's kind
And you're so ******* beautiful
And you're all mine
And here, right now
We're one.
My body is powerless to you
And yours is powerless to me
We don't speak
We simply feel
And that's a closeness most don't achieve.
A bond
Like no other
Body
And mind.
"We fit together so nicely,"
You said
And I completely agree
Something so right, so meant to be.
Jan 14, 2011
Jan 14, 2011 at 8:13 PM UTC
Two inches was the measure, of young Stevies blunder,
Digging out concrete, not knowing whats under.
He felt a nugget, that wouldn't yield to the Pick,
So he used the Jack-Hammer, until he got that "kick".
Caught fire on the spot, looked at me, shocked,
Died in flames, got a days pay docked.
Cut the main cable, Fifty millimetres, metric,
I know you hate to ask, but Friends aren't Electric.
Dennis stepped back, pleased with his graft,
Fell two hundred foot, down an unguarded shaft.
Been on the Grinder, cutting out steels,
So the Elevator boys could fix , their cogs and their wheels.
Never said a word, no shout or no fuss,
Dennis died like he lived, just one of us.
Me and Baz on a roof, we knew was asbestos,
Brittle like toffee, temperamental as Kate Moss,
Had no crawling boards, so we tip-toed like burglars,
Clinging on tightly, think Ivy on Pergola's.
I heard the crack, leapt to the hip-tile,
Baz clawed and scraped, resistance was futile.
They spread out the sand, where Baz hit the deck,
To mop up the blood, from a broken neck.
Health and safety, if's and but's,
Shoddy workmanship, taking short-cuts.
We have no say, we try our best,
Hard hats, harder boots and high-visibility vests,
Are all that we leave, not Time-Shares or Merc's,
Just daughters in tears, Dads not home from work.
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
1.
I feel
fractured splintered defeated
entirely insular
and spread to thin
all at the same time
covered with insecurities
like a cheap suit
or hollow exoskeleton
nothing more than a lie. I grow tired.
I'm bluffing my way through this life
a brutal honesty
I lack the courage to accept
hiding my face
from every mirrored surface
a halfhearted attempt
to prolong this detrimental denial.
I can't ******** my way
through self-reflection
and trying to improve my image
feels positively improvised.
I lack sincerity and authenticity
an individual breathing without zeal
I need a break.
2.
Here I am again a lonely itinerant migrating
to the proverbial and often visited crossroads
rather than contemplating
a direction worth navigating
be it following in the worn footprints of others
or a path long overgrown with neglect.
I'd rather lie down on the gravel road
and nap in the open air
just to wake up confused and temperamental.
The destination remains unknown
my indecision remains intact.
I give impetuous a bad name
by reputation and repetition alike
conjoined twins that speaks to
fate and circumstance.
Like Houdini
I'm secured in a long sleeve shirt
dangling upside down from a burning rope
placing blame on the flame.
I need a break.
3.
I'm not as intelligent
or insightful as I once thought
my wasted youth is a testament.
A modern ruin
like so many a Blockbuster
I've outlasted my usefulness.
I imagine what could have been
clueless as to what lies ahead.
A jovial repentance
seems as likely as
success, or stability, **** simplicity.
Is it all too much to ask?
I've been on break too long.
4.
reboot jumpstart
Alleviate my stagnant, vacant lot in life
and cast off these first world problems.
Consider not the flat champagne
or the distance that separates
today from death.
Speak positively to the people
that would not otherwise attract minimal attention.
Set goals both grand and plausible
with no worry of dividends
and release cynicism
and determine a trajectory
that I may see through to completion.
If for no other reason
but to say that I tried.
It's not so bad this imagined and dire circumstance.
Relax and go on break.
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 7:48 PM UTC
I.
I have fallen in love with
the mid-June evening skies, and
It's volatile shades of grey
Like a temperamental canvas of inky blacks
And blotted blues, lines of translucent paint drizzle down
From the canopy of clouds, marred and bruised.
II.
Lovers separated by atmospheres and seasons,
A torrent of raindrops ravishes
It's earthen companion,
caressing the jagged scars across it's parched skin.
I have fallen in love with
The heady scent that permeates the humid air;
The love-child of storm and soil
Infused by the sweet, rich aromas
Of a 6pm cup of chai.
III.
I have fallen in love with
The rivulets of rainwater that
Trail silver maps across the ridges and contours of bottle green fronds;
And the dewy droplets that adorn the Gulmohars and Cassias that are strewn beside my bare feet;
Like a bejewelled carpet of scarlet and gold.
IV.
We are words
Ricocheting off one another,
Relief, catharsis and a safe space after a long day.
We are the comfortable silences, the content sighs,
And the barefaced truth
Between mother and daughter.
I have fallen in love with
The tapestry of words that we weave.
V.
I have fallen in love with
Coming home.
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 1:41 PM UTC
If you heard it from the mouth of my father or your father
you would marvel
and you would ponder
and you would not question without evaluation
But since it spills from the mouth of a wide-eyed girl
you dismiss
you retaliate,
you don’t evaluate.
You shut down because your perception of intelligence is NOT
the tasteless temperamental teen tantrum
They all have these strange ideas?
Must have seen them on the TV
must have heard them from the trashed or the terrible
It's a taboo: what if the kids have ideas?
What if they're smarter than you?
From the mouth of her father
to the space of her ear,
the things that we say
are the things that we hear
If you heard it from the mouth of my father or your father
you would marvel
and you would ponder
and you would not question without evaluation
But since it spills from the mouth of a wide-eyed girl
you dismiss, see her mouth as a kiss
Don't forget that she's capable
of so much more than this.
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 2:11 PM UTC
In the aftermath, I lay across my adolescent
comforter in the faded spot, hoping to soak up any
remnants of a sun that refuses
to show its face today.
Raindrops stick to my window,
spattered from juvenile tyranny,
born out of temperamental
tempests that literally manifest
from nowhere. These are the tears
I wish I could cry, for even the sky
prays it could hide from the tumult.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 5:10 PM UTC
I found sitting myself in a really dark place--like a dimly lit room. An overhead light flickered on and off, and in the short seconds of light, I caught a glimpse of myself, my reflection. I didn't like what I saw, what was staring back at me. A face pale like a white crayon, like I had never had the rays of the sun dance upon the edges of my skin, eyes so worn, so tired, so...defeated. I crawled my way to the nearest wall. My fingers grazed the freezing cold tile as I climbed my way to a standing position. I stood leaning against the cold, mostly to stabilize myself, but also because the tile felt so smooth against my arms.
How did I get here in this room? I can't seem to remember, it all hit me so fast. The light flickered on and off and I stood leaning against the smooth tile and thinking about where I was. This room was so small and dark. I let my fingers drag along the tile as I slowly walked around the room. At last the smooth, cold wall turned to even more cold metal as I found myself holding into a handle. Suddenly the light flickered once more and through the door I went, and then I was falling and falling. After that, everything went black.
When I awoke, I once again found myself in the fetal position on the ground. This time I was warm. I felt something tickle my foot and it jolted me awake. I open my eyes to discover that I am lying in a field filled with pink and white flowers that I could never identify. They were lovely and they seemed to embrace the cool breeze moving through their petals. I stand here amidst all this beauty and I feel okay for the first time. I am calm. I am happy.
Suddenly, though, the sky seemed to flicker just like that temperamental light in that cold tile room. I think to myself that it's just my mind, it's just my mind playing tricks on me. But then a loud, thunderous noise bellows throughout the field, sending a ****** of large, black crows into my direction. The beautiful, blue sky instantly filled itself with clouds like dark, black smoke in a small confined space. A strong wind forces it's way against the flowers and as each flower is touched, it wilts, turning the most awful shade of gray I had ever seen. The entire field went dead and I stand in the center trying to take in what happened. Everything was fine just a minute ago. The sky flickers and again my vision turns black and I wake up and I am back in that cold, the room, laying on my side. The door is there, within my view, and I lay there, staring.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 12:08 AM UTC
You swore to love me for the rest of our life
In front of The Lord you made me your wife
We're separate because of your temperamental ways
You turned to the Lord to have better days
We talked about moving to start a new life
Seven years as your wife, I made a commitment for life
Your cruelty you show in the deed that you've done
You moved your girlfriend right into our home
An honorable man would be true to his word
A commitment destroyed made in front of The Lord
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 8:25 PM UTC
I need the sunsets,
purple and orange
and angry for having to leave.
I need the ocean,
blue and aqua
and enraged by a storm.
I need the wind,
swift and cool
and tearing trees from their roots.
I need the fire,
warm and comforting
and turning everything to ashes.
I need the land,
strong and sure,
and temperamental with its shaking.
I need the feeling,
of love and contentment
and lust and heat
and pain and strength.
Oh to want
both the anger
and the happiness,
the love
and the hate,
the softness
and the pain.
And to wish to want
naught more
than what you give me
But to always want more
than what i have.
The greif there is
in contradiction, and
the hurt there is
in not being enough.
But to want more
is to be human, and
it is in being human
that we love.
So i will take
what it is you give, and
hope and pray
i will want
naught more than you.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 2:31 AM UTC
She said, “I don’t like talking about my feelings. My feelings are as fleeting as the season of summer”.
I told her, ”I never had a problem ever talking about the sun and temperamental weather”.
She said, “I don’t like talking about emotions. My emotions are as dry as autumn leaves”.
I told her, ”I never had a problem with a blowing wind or whirling breeze”.
She said, “I don’t like talking about my fears. My fears are a looming dark sky for a winter storm”.
I told her, “I never had a problem finding shelter and a place to keep her warm”.
I smiled and said, “Let’s just walk and talk about spring”.
…she left me there planting seeds.
while all along, I never had a problem picking her flowers away from the weeds.
Apr 28, 2022
Apr 28, 2022 at 8:56 PM UTC
The day has been heavy.
Deciding to release low energy.
The winds came in and swept them away.
Temporarily made it hard to hear my voice.
It continues to tell me,
Go for what you desire.
As a child my home was confusing.
The love taught there was temperamental,
I had to accept love that felt thin.
Now I can embrace the immature love
I was raised in, and it's why I felt
Ready to leave home.
And I am not ready to go back.
I've preferred cultivating my own love,
One based on interdependence.
And nourishment.
This is the love I desire.
I know now this is what relating is,
And nourished sometimes looks thin.
Though I have been working out,
My muscles feel stronger and I am
Ready to try something different.
Today, I feel a sadness.
I know I must create space.
I know nourishing energy is not here.
Friendships continue naturally,
I love you.
I just need my energy.
This is a lesson, indeed.
And I wish it were different.
Though going forward,
I am committed to the plant message.
My future will be focused around
Embracing our diversity, nourishment
And interdependence.
And that feels best.
The storm seems to have passed.
The winds are dying down,
Fences broken, trees have fallen.
And I just take another step.
Muscles developed.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 10:34 PM UTC
There's a temperamental rainbow
he's seen, peeking out now and again, when
it's not shyly hid in cumulus cubbies.
He might, he can, win its sparkly trust,
luring it to him, between rainy bouts,
with promises of mood-altering
medication. Then, clapped with a lightning
clout, he'll stuff it in ten-gallon tubs
to struggle, bawl, and futilely fill
his deviant's plan. For in that muffle
of tinted pleas, its droppered breath will
condense against lids clamped-down tight,
and bottoms can collect sunny flavors
he needs to slather on the lolling
tongue of his too humdrum day-to-day.
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 10:01 AM UTC
My whiskey habit is complimented then insulted by the ever temperamental voice of Jim Morrison,
I listen to Alabama Song by The Doors
I throw my pen and page
In an anger induced rage
As my mind recites the wrong words
To his poems and songs
His voice plays on repeat
All i can do is blame myself as the primitive synth dances it's oscillating tunes through one of my depleted senses.
My hearing
Mojo Rising's face crudely made into pop art painting by a fan, an idoliser's image
Suddenly the fender telecaster takes over the smokey airways
Hypnotising, mesmerising
as it fills the space between the barely conscious being and the walls that surround
The tempo of the snare, tom and high hat slows
I now have time to gather my ever harsh and bitter thoughts
Harsh like the whiskey, bitter like me
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 9:33 AM UTC
The sky is an artistic graveyard.
Many a hero and many a fool have come to their fate in its wave-driven clutches.
The number of syllables required to storybook danger is as dense as ozone.
The orange layer—a warning sign, posted by the forebearers of fun, who were categorically undone by the very forces they worshipped.
Birds no better than to fly at such temperamental altitudes.
But the dream will die if we don't try.
And so we hoist our ambition like a kite, hoping to stay aloft long enough to discover something more about ourselves.
Apr 11, 2022
Apr 11, 2022 at 1:01 PM UTC
Jagged green talons,
shoot through gold dust,
marred only by the glimmer
of the mid day solstice.
Curving misty granules
Mask temperamental land:
Tracing paper haze
Swirls of glistening sand.
Bending hills blend
Precious pallid dust
With one layer of
Whipping wind.
Your blustered footprint
Get's carried away;
Bullied by nature's
Ethereal motion.
You’ve walked for miles
Dry and lagging among
Miniature valleys of Earth's
Smoothest round stalactite.
Hear the luscious,
Climactic ocean breeze
Speak salty psalms, from
Deepest blue parchment.
The serrated cliff-face
Positioned between
The vast curvature
of the sea and dunes.
Dogtooth black vertigo
With specks of white refrain,
Which drip back down
To the tenacity of the waves
As tides rise, patience falls.
Worn away, smooth again
As a brief, conjugative
Swill of realisation
Washes out lifes impurities
Cleansing boredom into
Calm; see a metropolis
Submerge in the tide.
The landmarks and history
Are but bricks, mortar
And washed up stories
Which float away to sea.
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 11:34 AM UTC