"troublesome" poems
Troublesome love . . .
will not let you sleep . . .
Sort of like a basketball game . . .
Questions are bounced mad and furiously
against the hard wood floor with only
more questions bouncing back .
Meanwhile someone is trying to steal
your dreams causing you to twist and turn distorting your image .
And you fight your way down
the court of life and toss your hopes and
dreams into the air and pray to God . . .
go in.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 3:08 PM UTC
Here’s something you seldom hear: don’t always listen to your heart. Because if your heart is like mine, it’s often fickle and confused. Emotions aren’t always true, they may come and go with the wind. Feelings trick us into believing lies. You look in the mirror and feel inadequate. You hear something so many times that you start to believe it’s true. You take a situation and manipulate it till it’s something completely false. But it’s time you start listening to your head: you may not be in control of what you feel, but you are in control of how you handle those feelings. Look in the mirror and tell yourself, “I know I am beautiful.” Refuse to believe the lies. Remind yourself of your many wonderful qualities. Don’t read too far into things, take them as they are. Worrying doesn’t change tomorrow, it just makes today more troublesome. Decide to be happy. Decide to be okay. Don’t believe everything you feel.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 11:45 AM UTC
Though perception is interesting, how many was it really, wait, the joker never drank really? did he? **** I forget. um, but I think I recall the riddler had , wait, maybe not. um,, way under the legal limit is below two , but did he, the joker, you know how he is. considering, wait, who was counting those things? what, one and what, oh **** and we... what a **** this kat can be, wait, did he really, run the gauntlet just to show the world , oh **** pull the skit, it is too rich, and he was spotted at the bank earlier speaking of laughing next time he visited. **** writers and those skits. troublesome, and grrr, they forget to keep it clean. lol
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 1:28 AM UTC
****
(noun)
1. any undesirable or troublesome plant, especially one that grows profusely where it is not wanted
2. a cigarette
3. ungainly person or animal
the weeds in the garden,
though sometimes unwanted,
sprout from the dirt yet full of life,
little in worth, yet lovely.
the weeds that we smoke,
dangerous to our health,
tasting bittersweet like memories
yet brings us short-lived ecstasy.
the **** of my life,
he was nothing but trouble
that brought about mirth
in my too-perfect garden;
he frustrated the people
who tended to me,
growing back into my life
every time they plucked him out.
unwanted but lovely.
dangerous but lively.
he was my whole definition of ****
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 12:40 AM UTC
You're just a tiny bit minimalist in your own unique way
a white star I have to squint to see in daytime sky
not a Mercedes five point but a Nissan Micra car
you park neatly in a three point turn by my netsuke
and put a circular dent on my platonic furniture
Your two humble rooms devoid of any bold sculpture
except a fold-out table and a miniature bubble chair
and a futon for a bed which is troublesome to share
you draw the line at adornments but allow a wallflower
A bulb in a bowl is your ornamental garden feature
mealtimes a nibble on grated carrot celery cucumber
you run so long on empty you're an eco friendly teacher
stretching out the energy is a passion of my lover
engaging in lessons on sustaining a resourceful nature
Your shoes two pointe ballet slip ons easy to care
barely there g-string thin cotton underwear
nothing loud to upset your understated figure
slight as a pin drop your bottom's semi-derrière
sits so light on feet I'd swear you float on air
I rarely get to hear you come before you're in my hair
with a voice pitch high as a smitten kitten's purr
your upper reaches get a score sized single 'A'
nice when it fits into our schemes of feng shui
I carry your bundle home on the roadway rivers of light
yet you only burn one ray of candle power at night
born of scintillating atoms which flow along each vein
containing so much love without clutter in your frame
a brave star small as wings formed of minuscule wire
flutters in your eyes with minimal flare
but deep desire
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC
Isabel met an enormous bear,
Isabel, Isabel, didn't care;
The bear was hungry, the bear was ravenous,
The bear's big mouth was cruel and cavernous.
The bear said, Isabel, glad to meet you,
How do, Isabel, now I'll eat you!
Isabel, Isabel, didn't worry.
Isabel didn't scream or scurry.
She washed her hands and she straightened her hair up,
Then Isabel quietly ate the bear up.
Once in a night as black as pitch
Isabel met a wicked old witch.
the witch's face was cross and wrinkled,
The witch's gums with teeth were sprinkled.
** ** Isabel! the old witch crowed,
I'll turn you into an ugly toad!
Isabel, Isabel, didn't worry,
Isabel didn't scream or scurry,
She showed no rage and she showed no rancor,
But she turned the witch into milk and drank her.
Isabel met a hideous giant,
Isabel continued self reliant.
The giant was hairy, the giant was horrid,
He had one eye in the middle of his forhead.
Good morning, Isabel, the giant said,
I'll grind your bones to make my bread.
Isabel, Isabel, didn't worry,
Isabel didn't scream or scurry.
She nibled the zwieback that she always fed off,
And when it was gone, she cut the giant's head off.
Isabel met a troublesome doctor,
He punched and he poked till he really shocked her.
The doctor's talk was of coughs and chills
And the doctor's satchel bulged with pills.
The doctor said unto Isabel,
Swallow this, it will make you well.
Isabel, Isabel, didn't worry,
Isabel didn't scream or scurry.
She took those pills from the pill concocter,
And Isabel calmly cured the doctor.
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making sure you could hear me
was never the problem
the problem
was being listened to
i needed to think less about
whether i’m being too
troublesome
and start thinking more about
what i can do to be
influential
i was born to leave
a big crater wherever i stand
a sign that i am just as thundering as you
i construct my words
to be deafening
to make your ears ring and your eyes water
i was taught to make my ideas
the thoughts you lust after
the kind that are both confident and emphatic
because its always better to be
powerful
than to be
voiceless
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 9:08 AM UTC
Reflecting disdainfully, remembering painfully,
upsetting, annoying, troublesome
Bickering, sarcastic, disputing, bombastic,
arrogant, conceited, unwelcome
Fastidious relations, private fixations,
foreboding, disturbing resentment
Silently scheming, nobody weeping,
selfish, unblinking, TRIUMPHANT!
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 10:23 AM UTC
Tell me what it is that you can't do,
or become,
tell me what it is
that is too insignificant to achieve.
Life is not worth throwing away
just to please certain people by
forgetting the truth and essence of life.
You don't want to die for another's believe.
Using your death to **** their assumed
enemy means you are one too.
Blowing up yourself is an abomination.
Anything unnatural that could cause
anyone's death is not worth anything.
Avoid it like a plague.
Hide yourselves from it's way,
when it comes with fury to meet you.
Close your ears from it's path,
as it uses subtle words to cajole you.
Guard your heart from the troublesome
tempest of it's bait as it keeps knocking
on your door to convince you,
using all kinds of manipulative
crafty intimidating tactical
techniques to woo you,
just to send you to your death.
Don't buy their ideas for it has nothing
to do with your vision.
Death awaits anyone who does not listen
to the secrets offered by wisdom.
It may look so strange and simple,
but it carries within it the age old beneficial
heart warming truth that has time tested
safe haven to keep you alive.
Heed to it's invitation to live.
Cowardice is not courage,
it's only an end to your beautiful life.
If there's truth in dying to prove your cause,
why are the initiators don't die
first to prove their case.
Can't you see that it's all for nothing.
Be wise and say no to their call.
Your lives matter.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 4:18 PM UTC
perpetual expeditions amidst this hazy twilight,
periwinkled vistas ensnaring me in
buzzzzzzzzzzzz
the sound penetrates my ear drum
black and yellow rabble-rouser
this rambunctious little menace
a pomegranate
eternally ripe, giving me life
gilled, scaled, underwater creature
emerging from the deep, boundless rift
two tantalizing tigers
troublesome, treacherous
and she laid there—
undisturbed, unaware
jabbed in her side by a M1903 Springfield
soothed state rattled, shattered
wincing from the poke of the blunt end of the gun
the sleeping lady slept no more
poor fellows,
how were they supposed to hold on to it without opposable thumbs?
the distressed damsel appeared grotesque,
flailing and fidgeting at the sight of her surroundings
surface rocking beneath my feat,
my trusty elephant’s weak ankles shattering my already shattered stability
i had no more time for such nonsenses
buzzing sounds burned deep into my psyche
the soft-spoken horizon called out to me
calling for me to continue on into the enigmatic expanse
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 12:14 PM UTC
When two people, so different in taste, look at each other from across the dance floor, a secret sparks out of their eyes like electric rays of romantic notation. Words have yet to be exchanged, but the slow steps towards one another make time slow to an unearthly crawl. Those dancing are nothing more than hues of grey, for the two ash-stricken lovers cannot see more than those they are attracted to. Hearts pound to a rhythm that can no longer be found within the upbeats of the swaying samba. As she longs to be in his arms, he stops only inches in front, his breath caught in his throat. The increasing amount of love being released from just his simplistic gaze makes her want to run as far as she can. With him of course, though it is not a realistic approach to the turmoil surrounding their troublesome secret. A secret that increases as he gently slides his fingers against her cheek, resting the palm of his hand on the back of her neck. Feeling the contrasting temperatures of the cool evening and her racing heartbeat, her head begins to get foggy with the vision of love that is shortly about to engulf her every fiber. The kiss, so gentle and sweet, brings back the times of innocence that was not thwarted by the interruption of time and changed lives. If only they could run away…
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
Flabbergasted, the whale wails
Lonely upon the sea drifting ever apart
A sole ****** raises his tired sails
Forever trapped in solitary solace
Winds warping the canvas
While ominous clouds encroach
The salty breeze stinging his taste
A bitterness within the calm
Peace drowns with the fury
That the storm has yet to bring
Fear not, creature of the sea
The troublesome life is far from over
Another night trashing about
The rock and the roll of the bow
A lullaby to a tired soul
Slowly rocking to dreamless sleep
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
Little soul, little perpetually undressed one,
Do now as I bid you, climb
The shelf-like branches of the spruce tree;
Wait at the top, attentive, like
A sentry or look-out. He will be home soon;
It behooves you to be
Generous. You have not been completely
Perfect either; with your troublesome body
You have done things you shouldn't
Discuss in poems. Therefore
Call out to him over the open water, over the bright
Water
With your dark song, with your grasping,
Unnatural song--passionate,
Like Maria Callas. Who
Wouldn't want you? Whose most demonic appetite
Could you possibly fail to answer? Soon
He will return from wherever he goes in the
Meantime,
Suntanned from his time away, wanting
His grilled chicken. Ah, you must greet him,
You must shake the boughs of the tree
To get his attention,
But carefully, carefully, lest
His beautiful face be marred
By too many falling needles.
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Give yourself to me with no reservations and acknowledge that the lack of obstacles that hold us distance is the significance of why we worth a try
And who knows we might just meant to be.
Mentally this is troublesome to me.
But the steps that I've decided to be taking-maybe-hasty and result to a chest that's empty.
But then again with that said I've given my heart away--to you.
May it remain safe.
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 12:03 PM UTC
Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome
Has many sonnets: so here now shall be
One sonnet more, a love sonnet, from me
To her whose heart is my heart's quiet home,
To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee
I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome;
Whose service is my special dignity,
And she my loadstar while I go and come.
And so because you love me, and because
I love you, Mother, I have woven a wreath
Of rhymes wherewith to crown your honored name:
In you not fourscore years can dim the flame
Of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws
Of time and change and mortal life and death.
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As a young girl I was always expected to do as I was told.
Don’t be too loud, don’t talk back, don’t appear to be sassy or bold.
Mind your manners, hold your tongue, there is no space for being rude.
Tone it down, cover it up, we don’t want your black girl attitude.
Forced into boxes with no space to move.
Restricted and restrained with everything to prove.
Constantly combatting the narrative they paint.
Making us look like animals while they look like saints.
We are said to be angry, bitter and loud.
Troublesome, uneducated, following the crowd.
Masculine, impute, stubborn and broken.
Accessories, trophies that ”one” friend, the token.
These strings of disrespect will no longer be allowed.
I don’t care if I’m not polished enough, I’m unwilling to be cowed.
Take back your subtle hate and blatant prejudices all wrapped up in a bow.
Served on a platter with fluffy words of disapproval and the saying “that’s just the way things go”.
They say we are stubborn, unmovable and complacent.
Well , consider how our feelings are always compartmentalized and latent.
Our cries go unheard, our request are unmet.
No one to protect us, left on our own to fret.
This debt that we carry is too much to bare.
It’s just as heavy as the onus that we all have to share.
We are ethereal, complex and fed up with your satire.
You can have whatever you think of me, I’m done being your Sapphire.
Nov 10, 2022
Nov 10, 2022 at 2:19 AM UTC
My Mamma cried
When she'd heard what I'd done
My Daddy went back inside
And he grabbed his gun
I'd met a girl on the other side of town
Of course I am white and of course she is brown
I don't rightly care cause we're both in love
And I ain't gonna let her suffer none
We's from Birmingham
Down South Birmingham Alabama you see
If'n you must know the year
I'd say a shameful 1963
There was unrest amongst the people
Which was bad enough
But it was doubly troublesome
On our taboo love
Deep segregation kept our worlds apart
Something the youth of the day couldn't see
Outside color don't matter, it's what's in the heart
That's the hold she has over me
Not really sure things have changed all that much
Though it's our nature to want to pretend
I'm not much into caring what others might think
Sometimes you gotta stand up like a man
I'm telling this tale from my front porch swing
As I listen to my Grandchildren's playful screams
While holding hands rocking back and forth
My lovely brown skinned beauty and me
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 7:51 AM UTC
I came to study the magical arts
But these troublesome three students
Hermione, Ron and harry,
Last semester those three students
Killed our defence against the dark arts teacher
I guess if he didn't stand against three kids,
How would he survive against the real dark arts,
Now this semester they're up to their shenanigans again
I wish I could just Wingardium Leviosa them off a cliff
But if I do that
Or even if I fail my grade this semester
My parents will probably Avada Kedavra me.
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 10:38 PM UTC
A*ll the five hundred drafts and counting
I am so bad at finishing
Each line lyric rhyme
Hoping for a masterpiece
Or a mirror to my mind
Nothing is certain till it ends
And it twists all the thought.
A surprise for few lines
An emotion to hide
Many people to confide
Some memories to write
A few to ignite
Each word to choose
and another to bind.
Inert satisfaction
a final completion
First to last transition
Inking blues
And curves in precision
An unknown outcome
Likesome to troublesome
to be posted on a wall*.
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 11:07 AM UTC
He catches rats for a living
The fine young, jolly young man
Says if you can't get rid of them
Call me, because I can
I'll trap 'em, drown 'em, poison 'em,
Hit 'em on the head
Failing that I'll fire some shot;
Fill 'em up with lead
Bedbugs, fleas, ants, pigeons in the loft
Squirrels being troublesome
Tell me, I'll stop the lot
Then he handed me a business card
Said this is me as well
So if you fancy tasty burgers
Just give me a bell
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 2:20 PM UTC
If I was a bird flying over the sea, would you stop for a moment and gaze up at me?
The wind under feather with curious weather...
away from the the worries that bind like a tether.
The waves singing songs as I soar far ahead with notes filled with passion like mothers singing to bed,
their children who sleep,
children too young to know,
the vast choppy waters
and the storms vicious blow.
If I was a bird flying over the sea, would you long for purpose?
Would you long to be free?
Would you long to stretch outward like the branch of a tree?
Though now I am chained to a wall made by pride and the ignorant static that is nestled inside,
one day I will open my troublesome eyes and arrive to a peace found in being truly alive.
Until then I fall, until then I fail, but with every bruise comes a truth in the gale.
So have faith in me and I send you this plea.
That one day you'll see me with wings,
flying over the sea.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 8:10 PM UTC
Your heart gets heavy and you say lets do it again
Unable to raise a white flag to your good friend
your mind continues its destruction from within
Excessive thoughts and troublesome plights the enemy continues its rampage through the night
Strength unbearable impossible to fight
Incarcerating you to the prison that is your mind
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 3:41 PM UTC
Consisting of grown, persisting as shown and unknown. Insisting entities, rivalries and sworn enemies! Deformed, forewarned, formed, informed, mourned, performed, reformed and scorned. Dates of great storms! Family tree of hate, horns and thorns. My family tree of gore, horror, more, poor and sore. Perhaps of mishaps galore. Briefly sit
back! I’ll roughly take you back… Heck! Back to a time of attack,
blacks, slacks and whacks. My family tree of practical, tactical, methodical Aztec. Some beckon and reckon in seconds. A family tree of crime, grime and rhyme. A nation of communication, dedication,
dissemination, motivation and procrastination. The splendor of sin
of my corruptive, disruptive kin. They rely more on the color of one’s
skin. My family tree of abuse and misuse that misuses and seduces! Family tree of warfare and welfare legalities, moralities and family-prodigies. Picture this scriptural twist! Some assist on a kiss. I insist
some are idealities in social technicalities. Alcoholics, diabetics,
****** exotic, fantastic, Catholics, eccentric, horrific and poetic. I persist… some gnomes, some roam, some in poems, some with no homes. My family tree of adventuresome, awesome, handsome and troublesome. My family tree of beautiful and bountiful! Some are a
handful some handicap some locally and vocally-rap. Some slap,
gift-wrap and yap! Some are snuggly, pretty, witty or ugly. In my family tree, some crippled, some with pimples, some with freckles
and some that heckle. Some belittle and little, some wrinkled and old. Some are bold and pray to the lord! Some are Frio, meaning cold we
were told. Some I say, are poor with no Amor. Some are here no more, in my family tree of Amor.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 9:37 PM UTC
In the ghetto
Huh they say you can be anything
You wanna be
So i joined the army
Notknowing that I'll still
Face tragedy and racism aint went no where
It feels ghostly evil stares
Of past scornful memories
They traded stock off the fields
And put us in the penitentiary
I got my first arrest in elementary
Just for being black on a sunday
Walkin' on a one way street
Preachers aint talking about that
Cuz they know theyll get lynched for that
Now they follow anything
And everything
That attracts money fortune and fame
You know the name?
We die more for the name of the father
Religion is ********
No matter whats coming out the puplits
They still gone ****
Think of you as a nigguh belittle
Troublesome and only good
For cheap labor
Be good and ya might get a penny raise
For good behavior
Still lookin' a savior?
That ***** been dead think abiut it
He died at 33 ?
Now ask yo self how many nigguhs
Died before 33? Ships full of slaves?
Lots of babies young men and women
Mothers fathers to sons n daughters
Two thousand fifteen and we
Still seeing slaughter ???
Can you see me running from the police
And we still think we run the streets
Peep game homies
Its no longer about racism
Its about us as a minority
Wither white black mexican or puerto rican
We all slaves
Payin' debts to society before we
Took our first ****
**** how could this be ?
My birth belongs to a bank industry
So all my real gangstas thugs to hustlers
Yea even wall street yall slaves too
Wake up the time is now
Gotta mind gotta use it
Or else these muthaphukkas will abuse it
This aint nothing new
Since the sun been shinin'
The same from beginning to end
The world was castedwith sin
There was darkness before light
Now that I'vegot the light
Its time to enlightened others
With the torch i aquired
Not long before ill be retired and life expired
For trying to reach for the truth
And many more
Live carefully
Cuz this is somethin' 2 die 4....
The ghetto!!!!
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC
~
*if you're feeling sinister tonight, come inside the darkroom. picture yourself pouring over mental images of a demure young botanist, loitering around the trapdoor of nostalgia, kissing someone new for the first time.
now imagine she is conscious and clustered in titillating blur, her smile beachy and airborne, with only the slightest suggestion that something troublesome is lurking underneath.
can you see her double exposure? totally tranquil, she poses with an arsenal of poisonous plants, as if she’s already slipped their venom into your tea.*
~
Apr 5, 2023
Apr 5, 2023 at 12:17 PM UTC