"trivially" poems
tattoos
maybe on your body
mostly on your heart
I used to believe in the hope on my arm
I guess I still do, wishing for a new perspective of the word
I look down and see me
not someone people want me to be
now the cross on my wrist
sits so elegantly between my heart and my mind
these are the tattoos on my body
the ones you can touch and feel and find
I might explain the meaning
and you may trivially understand my words
but never my thoughts, the truth behind my heart
I wish you could see those tattoos
because although the ones on my body are beautiful
at least to me
the ones on my heart are beyond anything you have ever seen
most people never know the feeling
the feeling of finding yourself
seeing who you actually are written on your own skin
I don't see ink
I see me
the person everyone else refuses to see
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 3:41 PM UTC
Dear God we need to leave this town, friends!
Please don't let me abandon you all here
shivering in underemployment
The West is calling with a Daniel "BOOM,"
the South whispers in a mountain mama window pat
Other countries laugh at us,
but will we join their jeers,
show them we are not just circus bears?
Multi-national parasites,
we're too trivially divided to terminate
O God, how my leisure hours went,
so much faster than the work room's ones
without any vent
I complained and complained
to my friends and fam on the phone,
but the time just spiraled stagnant
like a slow spirit taking six thousand years to explore a too small habitat
I haven't got nearly so long.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
Such sweet songs
Fall from faces full
Of open
Hearts holding hands.
Generally great groups gather
Quixotic questions,
Ponder personal perceptions,
Emulating ever entranced emotions.
Love loses leaps, leaves
Broad bruises bypassing
Catastrophically closed creations.
What wonder, what wildly whimsical
Rejoice remains?
In individualistic idioms.
As all allowed anatomical
Differences deal dictations,
Juxtaposed jesters join
Monstrous masterminds
Trivially tinkering, tryingly,
Near non-subjective nothingness
Under unusual
Vectors. Vivisecting voracious,
Zeppelin-esque, zygotes,
Xenophobic
Yodels yell,
**** **** kindheartedness!"
Mar 24, 2012
Mar 24, 2012 at 12:20 AM UTC
The aged wood of the boardwalk echos hollowly, but has a damp undertone from the left behind wet footprints of the day.
We thud forward in silence, commenting trivially on the nights happenings when my attention is slowly stolen.
Silently, the night wind picks up the lost sand on the boards and sprinkles it across my feet, desperate to take my attention.
Uncaught by anyone but me, a waver in her voice in the prime of her retelling of her day,
Did she notice my distraction?
In a final attempt at shallow conversation we turn to talking about the weather.
But, the wind is greedy.
It whips the sea oats until they shiver and sigh, an eerie sound.
Silence.
Our final few steps on the board walk crunch. Crunch until. . .
Finally, our eager toes lick the sand, cooled by the wind and stars.
Naturally, unknowingly our toes dig and burrow in joy,
reminiscing to the innocent barefooted days in the sand-box.
The wind, eager again for my attention, breathes down my spine.
We quicken our pace.
As we drawn nearer to the ocean, the mist scares the cowardly wind away.
Sprinklings of salt, water, and sand speckle upon our sun kissed skin.
Laughter.
We lay down in the sand, each lost in our own worlds and look to the deep heavens above.
Reflections of depth and light, moon to sun, space to sea.
The peace found only in the bare nakedness of a bed of sand and friends.
Open.
Sheltered.
Free.
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 7:55 PM UTC
The crushing sadness
Is trickling down my veins
And I am beyond saving
Even by my own brain
Which tries to make me happy
By recalling our best moments.
It makes me so much sadder.
And I try to move sleekly
As before
But the pain is fighting back
Making everything so trivially tedious and difficult and
sad
I am looking, teary eyed
At an origami Triceratops
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 10:31 PM UTC
Life is like Ikea,
Feels like it will never end,
But when it does,
It is too late.
A labyrinth you enter,
Beds and pillows guide the way,
Seems so cynical and perfect,
Still the hassle lies within.
It begins as an endless curiosity,
Soon trivially you follow the lines,
The excitement slowly fades,
It just has to be done.
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 11:29 AM UTC
I come to a fork here, trivially,
Bewildered by my mind’s comprehension
Of the things it was made to choose between,
Like a machine forged from glass; the intention
Being that, shattered, the cracks branch away.
The fork, like a set of fingers off’ring,
Each giving me a taste of where it goes,
Does little in aiding my suffering,
‘Cause my destination I’ve yet to know.
Birds can fly and return quicker than I,
But my decision cannot be unchanged;
The tale is longer than stories of mine,
But, like a book, it can’t be the same.
The sun begins to set along the west,
So I step down and forget all the rest.
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
She felt so trivially small,
For no one cared at all,
People never paid attention to her,
They saw her in a blur,
She was tiny and not noticed,
All her brothers and sisters were chaliced.
That is why she had to let go,
For she was the little toe.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 9:16 AM UTC
It’s seven days and the dove sits there pretty tight
On the mess of my chandelier never used for light
Trivially bothersome but her I bear no grudge
Never thought of shooing away or giving her a nudge!
The bird in enviable meditation sits in elegant poise
Looks more like play-dove I brought home by choice
Stirs not in my presence bats not her eyelids
Embodiment of patience and patience is all she needs!
How many days to be there, she knows but I don’t know
Sits there the ravishing beauty in love’s radiant glow
But I know something of it, in her eyes have seen the gleam
Of a longing to be in time there, by holding onto the dream!
What comes of her what’s in store I thought I little care
Never knew when of her dream I had a part to share
How she became a partner in life seeking a shelter of love
I have no answer but only know I must shelter the dove!
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 8:15 AM UTC
In your shadow I sit thinking of times long past.
Thinking of sparkling Catherine wheels, on a guy Fawkes night long ago.
Thinking about true love in hot sands, under our feet between our toes, blistering summer days.
That's how it goes.
Warm water trivially trickling beside us as we played.
Thinking about the time on the hill.
When we sled down on a rickety sledge, when you fell off landed straight in the hedge.
Thinking about cold chill when you left.
Felt bereft, neglected, dejected, rejected.
What more can I say, except the fact that in my mind you never lived anyway!
(c)LIVVI 2013
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC
Walk up to a girl
Wherever you're at
Whether it's a club or a flat
Approach her convivially
Don't state any word trivially
Ask if she's the middle of the month
Because she's a ten out of ten
Tell her you dislike the rating system
Later on.
Smoothness is key
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 7:25 PM UTC
Commonness of the flowers -
virtuous insignificance,
invoking visions of royalty
for ants, and snails, and such,
How trivially contests mankind,
what costumes their children wear,
while, silently, a bulbous sun
sidles across the sky.
Aug 26, 2021
Aug 26, 2021 at 2:35 AM UTC