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"umpteenth" poems
Do you know what ***** Not being good at everything. I sat down at the piano To practice for the umpteenth time Millions of thoughts rush through my head: My form ***** I can't hit the right notes My fingers don't want to work together I can barely read the music I will never be able to do this I **** I was born to believe that I needed to be the best At everything I did To please my parents And get the recognition I deserved. The truthful "well done" from my mother. But there came a time where getting A's is all they expected from me So when I would get above and beyond 100 percents I got nothing No well done, no good job. Yet my brother who would narrowly pass his spelling tests Would get commended for his work. Pushing myself harder and harder to be the best Every second of every day Has lead me to be unhappy whenever something isn't to the level I think it should be. I know that perfection is impossible And that you can't be good at everything. But every time I fail It feels like I'm dying a little inside. Frustration. Anger. Depression. I can barely hold it all together. This pressure to be perfect may seem unbearable, But it's my way of life. Without it, I have no idea who I would be.
0
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 10:31 PM UTC
The Pressure to be Perfect
The Talmud Teaches... With respect to his son, a father is obligated to circumcise him, to redeem him [if he is a firstborn], to teach him Torah, to marry him off, and to teach him a craft...he is also obligated to teach him to swim...(Kiddushin 29a) **lay awake when the house is silent, doing maths furiously in the head, sleeping can be keeping while doing my calculus, knowing in advance a conclusion comes coined in only two colors, black or red the question simple, did I meet my obligations? and your read the passage for the umpteenth time, and the same thought interferes as always, should the order not be reversed, the first thing to be fulfilled,** teach them to swim **based on experience life arrives in sequential, repeating waves, purposed to drown the weak with no pretending that waters, salt or sweet matters, so first order is business ought be survival preparation and** teach them to swim **if they can swim, stay afloat, then they can then comprehend the glory of distinguishing right over wrong, get their priorities straight, that saving others, especially those you placed on the starting line of life, is the first principle and overplants anything else when you** teach them to swim **my eyes see the tally, why, they are red! could it be lack of sleep? I am smiling when I am lying, teach them to swim always first, but not enough, one must do it well, well, and even then, better,  as all else will, from the well, follow, when you** teach them to swim 3:10am ~~~
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Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 3:16 AM UTC
The Obligations of a Father
The Talmud Teaches... With respect to his son, a father is obligated to circumcise him, to redeem him [if he is a firstborn], to teach him Torah, to marry him off, and to teach him a craft...he is also obligated to teach him to swim...(Kiddushin 29a) **lay awake when the house is silent, doing maths furiously in the head, sleeping can be keeping while doing my calculus, knowing in advance a conclusion comes coined in only two colors, black or red the question simple, did I meet my obligations? and your read the passage for the umpteenth time, and the same thought interferes as always, should the order not be reversed, the first thing to be fulfilled,** teach them to swim **based on experience life arrives in sequential, repeating waves, purposed to drown the weak with no pretending that waters, salt or sweet matters, so first order is business ought be survival preparation and** teach them to swim **if they can swim, stay afloat, then they can then comprehend the glory of distinguishing right over wrong, get their priorities straight, that saving others, especially those you placed on the starting line of life, is the first principle and overplants anything else when you** teach them to swim **my eyes see the tally, why, they are red! could it be lack of sleep? I am smiling when I am lying, teach them to swim always first, but not enough, one must do it well, well, and even then, better,  as all else will, from the well, follow, when you** teach them to swim 3:10am ~~~
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33
I met my neighbor today. Well, he's not my neighbor yet, but he will be when I'm forty-two and have that burgundy four-door. He'll have two kids by then, one from a previous marriage; loud mouth little ***** always reminding his step-mother that his real mom wouldn't stand for what she wants to call discipline. I should really remind his dad to return my rototiller when I see him next. - The meteorologist called for sleet and I still don't see any ****** sleet. I walked to the fuel station and got a fountain soda; I counted six stray cats on the way back. One of them used to belong to a woman by the name of Jamila who moved back to Atlanta in July of last summer. The cat never liked to come to her, so it stayed behind to chart star patterns. Sometimes, when no one is out on the street, the cats meet in alleyways to gossip about the state of affairs in the soy city. - I buried seven heads-up pennies underneath the yield sign on Union street last Wednesday, I believe it was. I'm still waiting on a reply, but Mr. Cuttlefish isn't known for his punctuality. No one is around here; it's bad for your health if everyone knows where and when you'll be. They say one of the neighbor kids found a piece of amber the size of a plum in a box of Rice Chex from the corner market. I knew someone would find it eventually. - Every umpteenth sidewalk slab has an "X" engraved in the top, right-hand corner. It signifies a meeting zone, and if you wait their long enough I can probably convince one of the silver men from the condemned apartment building to let me borrow their aural symphonizer so I can finally see what it's like to extract one while it is still alive and roily. It wont be too long of a wait, as the men are always brief with conversation and always seem to blink and breathe at the exact same time I do.
0
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 1:54 AM UTC
Tilted Reality Mumblings
I met my neighbor today. Well, he's not my neighbor yet, but he will be when I'm forty-two and have that burgundy four-door. He'll have two kids by then, one from a previous marriage; loud mouth little ***** always reminding his step-mother that his real mom wouldn't stand for what she wants to call discipline. I should really remind his dad to return my rototiller when I see him next. - The meteorologist called for sleet and I still don't see any ****** sleet. I walked to the fuel station and got a fountain soda; I counted six stray cats on the way back. One of them used to belong to a woman by the name of Jamila who moved back to Atlanta in July of last summer. The cat never liked to come to her, so it stayed behind to chart star patterns. Sometimes, when no one is out on the street, the cats meet in alleyways to gossip about the state of affairs in the soy city. - I buried seven heads-up pennies underneath the yield sign on Union street last Wednesday, I believe it was. I'm still waiting on a reply, but Mr. Cuttlefish isn't known for his punctuality. No one is around here; it's bad for your health if everyone knows where and when you'll be. They say one of the neighbor kids found a piece of amber the size of a plum in a box of Rice Chex from the corner market. I knew someone would find it eventually. - Every umpteenth sidewalk slab has an "X" engraved in the top, right-hand corner. It signifies a meeting zone, and if you wait their long enough I can probably convince one of the silver men from the condemned apartment building to let me borrow their aural symphonizer so I can finally see what it's like to extract one while it is still alive and roily. It wont be too long of a wait, as the men are always brief with conversation and always seem to blink and breathe at the exact same time I do.
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51
The left hemisphere of my brain, -Yes the very one I feel for you from- Keeps on repeating just a phrase, -3 words and 10 characters & spaces- Don't you know what phrase it is? -Okay I will re-re-re-re-re-re-repeat it- For the umpteenth time I say it, -I lost count with the passage of time- But as it is for you I must repeat it, -My Lovely Little One, I Love You-
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Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 1:40 AM UTC
Repeating
Try your best to escape and free Your mind is not your identity Your genetics, your family tree Your looking glass eyes can see Through the window an fatefully Change your perception of reality And redefine who you are to be My new persona is in a coma down in Barcelona Now I'm Jonah in love with Mona from Arizona Drinking corona with Fiona in the streets of Verona Creativity is a proclivity that unshackles our identity free Journey with me far from the vast sea of mental captivity Exclusivity of proactivity creates a glorious life of festivity Consent to your dreams to the absolute umpteenth degree Augment your schemes and forget about the no guarantee Reinvent thee extremes, and you will never be a life absentee Remember as you read that we are all connected eternally On this marble together spinning we are all just guests Wandering around trying to solve our personal quests Humans being we happened to be, but only temporarily May as well attempt and squeeze life to death and manifest All your aspirations and ambitions should be put to the test All so blessed with a mind, and a beating heart in our chest So why not invest the rest of our time to aspire to be the best
0
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 3:11 AM UTC
I Dented Thee
A silver pipe strikes me on the left-hand window, breaking the dullness of these grey hospital walls. Granddad, you’re due for your umpteenth colonoscopy, and here I am thinking about how your IV’d wrists strip away light like a prism. They bandage the hurt leaking from your eyes and let rainbows clog up your insides. (Is that why you can't go, you old geezer?) (Smile a bit more, will you?)
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Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
Sickness
Bugs are crawling all over my hands; yet they're the kind only I can feel and see - the germs I visualise as cockroaches covering everything around me. A 3rd change of clothes in 5 hours to protect myself against their power to bring me harm, my umpteenth hand wash trying to get rid of them; my brain turbulent with alarm. My head is noisy; full of chaotic sadness and voices, peculiar images and blurry characters are all I can see - not by choice. I cannot sleep or think let alone live, waiting for The End; I went mad with the battle so determinative. Sitting on the shower floor with the water raining down on me more and more. A map of water induced wrinkles trace my skin as if by disguise, with a river I cannot stop running from my eyes; intoxicated with madness, these voices I need to **** - so with a bottle of ***** I wash down a pretty little pill. Tonight I lay with just my teddy to hold dear; loneliness creeping in - no doubt, feeling like a child who just wants to be loved and cared about, wishing to be protected from the monsters inside my head as I bury myself under my covers and cry myself to sleep in bed.
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Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 5:58 PM UTC
Delusional Parasitosis
Bathtub music and drums played on the surface of Davy Jones's mirror: the ceramic holds the sea, the sea, and all within it: ***** me. Scrubbed you off my skin again for the umpteenth night in a row. Row row row our boat away from the constant, constant rows. Stormy arguments and weathered mistrust. You'll break me, won't you? I'll break you, won't I? Won't you come drown with me Ariel? Won't you come up with me to the kitchen and lock up the door then lock up the oven then lock up ourselves in carbon-monoxide poetry? But then how does cooking gas end up as sass in a library? How did sustenance turn into asphyxiation?  Why are our hands on each other's throats instead of being binded by the absoluteness, the certainty, the assuredness of palms within palms and fingers interlocked and question marks dispelled. Splash! as way in and over my head is the bathtub music and my absorbent curls are drinking, drinking, drinking, thinking about the why you only call me when you're drinking, drinking, drinking; thinking about the way I cannot suppress you when the cellphone has long gone quiet and your Hughes of blue are still loud but your red is dead. Ariel, Ariel, I want to be your dark-haired prince. Ariel, Ariel, my country is landlocked but I still see you in the sink. Ariel, Ariel, gurgling away as the bathtub music fades into ugly brown rings around the ceramic pause button that shows no hope of continuation Ariel, Ariel, you are the final splash! as the false sea drifts away, the final splash! that scatters bathtub music past the drain and into the air. Ariel, Ariel, you are the false rain that my landlocked country never prayed for. Ariel, Ariel, toneless, begotten and forgotten Ariel, Ariel. I cannot sing for you. I cannot. You will not sing for me. You will not. The final splash! past the drain and into the air is you Ariel. The false rain. The rain song of our endless games.
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May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 10:02 AM UTC
Rain Song.
Bathtub music and drums played on the surface of Davy Jones's mirror: the ceramic holds the sea, the sea, and all within it: ***** me. Scrubbed you off my skin again for the umpteenth night in a row. Row row row our boat away from the constant, constant rows. Stormy arguments and weathered mistrust. You'll break me, won't you? I'll break you, won't I? Won't you come drown with me Ariel? Won't you come up with me to the kitchen and lock up the door then lock up the oven then lock up ourselves in carbon-monoxide poetry? But then how does cooking gas end up as sass in a library? How did sustenance turn into asphyxiation?  Why are our hands on each other's throats instead of being binded by the absoluteness, the certainty, the assuredness of palms within palms and fingers interlocked and question marks dispelled. Splash! as way in and over my head is the bathtub music and my absorbent curls are drinking, drinking, drinking, thinking about the why you only call me when you're drinking, drinking, drinking; thinking about the way I cannot suppress you when the cellphone has long gone quiet and your Hughes of blue are still loud but your red is dead. Ariel, Ariel, I want to be your dark-haired prince. Ariel, Ariel, my country is landlocked but I still see you in the sink. Ariel, Ariel, gurgling away as the bathtub music fades into ugly brown rings around the ceramic pause button that shows no hope of continuation Ariel, Ariel, you are the final splash! as the false sea drifts away, the final splash! that scatters bathtub music past the drain and into the air. Ariel, Ariel, you are the false rain that my landlocked country never prayed for. Ariel, Ariel, toneless, begotten and forgotten Ariel, Ariel. I cannot sing for you. I cannot. You will not sing for me. You will not. The final splash! past the drain and into the air is you Ariel. The false rain. The rain song of our endless games.
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51
i was behind the wheel and you were sitting on the passenger seat. your hair was knotted in a tangled mess and your favorite korean music was blaring over the speakers for the umpteenth time. i watched you as you tilted your head back and closed your eyes, letting the murmurs of the engine and breeze of the night cloud your thoughts. you held my hand and started to hum the lyrics of your favorite song and in that moment we've never felt so much more complete, we were more than invincible. the tenebrific night swirled into a blur of headlights, and car honks, and whispered wishes and stolen kisses, nevertheless, we didn't care, because we were in love, and nothing else mattered.
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Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 7:13 AM UTC
10 pm stories: i
Ella Fitz’s rendition of Dream a Little Dream for the umpteenth time. Louie comes in tune with that righteous horn. I drink more as I sing along, off key. There could be an entire SECTION of books written about us. How we fell into that great whirlwind. How we learned to hate the world when we didn’t have each other. How we re-kindled, for that brief, brief time. How I thought maybe we could love again. We had hours that turned to days that turned to months. We were the perfect piece of short fiction An art form so gloriously undervalued, (by both the audience and the creators) Until we found ourselves in the Middle (the worst feeling in the world. Because like purgatory or super glue: you're stuck.) We said goodbye. And I found I had residual emptiness. I became residual emptiness. I loved again, but it wasn’t anything Like the masterpiece we had. I knew because Every day with him felt real. Every day with you Was a dream. Something rooted in intangibility Something I was astonished to find happening to me. It happened again- We found ourselves in the same place At the same time. And after just a few weeks, You gave me the greatest gift: The indignity of silence. And you gave me it For the most ignoble reason— You’re afraid. Honey bun, We’re all afraid. It made me think That maybe  the story of you and I can only have a happy ending in a place where it’s not so scary. So me, Louie and Ella all ask you, That In your dreams Whatever they be Dream a little dream of me. [Because that's the only place you'll find me now.]
0
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 4:21 PM UTC
Take it all, with my love (or a letter to my former lover)
Ella Fitz’s rendition of Dream a Little Dream for the umpteenth time. Louie comes in tune with that righteous horn. I drink more as I sing along, off key. There could be an entire SECTION of books written about us. How we fell into that great whirlwind. How we learned to hate the world when we didn’t have each other. How we re-kindled, for that brief, brief time. How I thought maybe we could love again. We had hours that turned to days that turned to months. We were the perfect piece of short fiction An art form so gloriously undervalued, (by both the audience and the creators) Until we found ourselves in the Middle (the worst feeling in the world. Because like purgatory or super glue: you're stuck.) We said goodbye. And I found I had residual emptiness. I became residual emptiness. I loved again, but it wasn’t anything Like the masterpiece we had. I knew because Every day with him felt real. Every day with you Was a dream. Something rooted in intangibility Something I was astonished to find happening to me. It happened again- We found ourselves in the same place At the same time. And after just a few weeks, You gave me the greatest gift: The indignity of silence. And you gave me it For the most ignoble reason— You’re afraid. Honey bun, We’re all afraid. It made me think That maybe  the story of you and I can only have a happy ending in a place where it’s not so scary. So me, Louie and Ella all ask you, That In your dreams Whatever they be Dream a little dream of me. [Because that's the only place you'll find me now.]
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49
Your voice, It echoes through my head like a broken recorder, banging the insides with, "change, change, change..." I, did not fit. So, I twisted my limbs and squashed my head to fit into your little mould. Umpteenth effort; days of churning and weeks of wringing. I, winced in pain and groaned in despair. The crucifixion happened as, I, heard me snap. Now it chews on my skin and clings onto my flesh, as if it was all tailor-made beforehand. I stride towards you with assurance that now, I am perfect. That now, maybe you'll love me more. But, you looked at me with a gaze so familiar that it pierces my heart into crumbs that resemble oatmeals and dust. You said, "you've changed".
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Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 12:58 PM UTC
"you've changed"
This anger... Feels like a ball of uncontrollable energy that spins treacherously in the pit of my stomach. It is unbound and reaches out forcefully in every axis. It is self-sustaining. And it consumes... All of me... It's doesn't want to be displaced, or swept under the rug for the umpteenth time. It doesn't want to be cajoled or calmed. It doesn't want to be coaxed into thinking that it does not need to rear its ugly head because I believe I have a handle on things; which I clearly do not. It knows me too well and will not take it lying down. It wants acknowledgement and it wants to speak. It wants to speak in a low guttural voice for the sheer purpose of intimidation. It wants grow in figurative size to assert its validation. It wants to absorb every form of negativity and use it to fuel the fight. It wants to take the faintest pin-prick or papercut to the most painful stab in the heart and use them... Harness them and then... Explode in a hundred-mile radius. This anger is real... And it has had enough of sitting on the bench. Now it wants a piece of the action... And this time I let it.
0
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 10:49 AM UTC
Anger (II)
You could say he hates her, From the way she talks to him, how every rose is ****** at him thorns first - millions of little slashes - battle wounds of the everyman adding up day to day week to week year to year the river of blood leaks to the ocean big enough to drown them both. He fires back though, and across the battlements of the dinner table sits the enemy shaking a half empty bottle of depression pills, basing how much happiness was left for the month off of the rattling of white capsules against the orange bottle.. She, how could she have ever given birth to him? Some might argue that was all she ever did for him, too preoccupied with her reflection to see the mirror image her son had become with his suken eyes, a rotton apple, a cyanide cynic at the ripe fresh age of fifteen. So six months later when they both led the cavalry in charge for the umpteenth time throwing dagger words laced with poison aimed high at heads ducked below cover to a safe place (but of course there is no safe place), Who would've thought when he told her to start taking her pills she'd take them all. Tip top of the bottle bottoms up for the bottle plain white capsules and blood red wine because when she goes out  she goes out like a lady. Its a sad sight seeing all her family weep at her grave, cry true tears clear and pure. All her family but one, her beloved boy. How dry face and stone visage were oh so heart wrenching. But perhaps worst of all, is that you could say he hates her even now
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Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 9:41 PM UTC
He Said: Mommy Issues
You could say he hates her, From the way she talks to him, how every rose is ****** at him thorns first - millions of little slashes - battle wounds of the everyman adding up day to day week to week year to year the river of blood leaks to the ocean big enough to drown them both. He fires back though, and across the battlements of the dinner table sits the enemy shaking a half empty bottle of depression pills, basing how much happiness was left for the month off of the rattling of white capsules against the orange bottle.. She, how could she have ever given birth to him? Some might argue that was all she ever did for him, too preoccupied with her reflection to see the mirror image her son had become with his suken eyes, a rotton apple, a cyanide cynic at the ripe fresh age of fifteen. So six months later when they both led the cavalry in charge for the umpteenth time throwing dagger words laced with poison aimed high at heads ducked below cover to a safe place (but of course there is no safe place), Who would've thought when he told her to start taking her pills she'd take them all. Tip top of the bottle bottoms up for the bottle plain white capsules and blood red wine because when she goes out  she goes out like a lady. Its a sad sight seeing all her family weep at her grave, cry true tears clear and pure. All her family but one, her beloved boy. How dry face and stone visage were oh so heart wrenching. But perhaps worst of all, is that you could say he hates her even now
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7
her grandmother stood at the window in the kitchen the corners of her mouth turned up into an unconscious slight smile at the sight of a spinning yellow blur under the big oak in the middle of the pasture surrounded by green grasses wonderous hues of wildflowers she quietly called out to grandad come see this the lanky cowboy sauntered in from the breezeway with his umpteenth cup of coffee peered at the blur of yellow opened the side door stepped out on the deck beside the metal glider and called out in his smooth baritone voice sheeeeeelllllliiii... sheeeeeelllllliiii lllllloooooooooo... she might have been 4 or perhaps five precious in the way innocent girls that age are dressed in smocked yellow lawn white lace patent leather up to her shins in spring grasses slowing her spin she turned toward her name her face radiant she took a wobbly step or two then broke into an off kilter run arms stretched out before her he took a few long strides bent his tall body low offering a bent knee wide open arms she flew into them with all her might knowing she would be caught rough housed with and given a wickereye from the window her grandmother took it all in sighed said to herself hold this dear hold this snapshot of the soul for. ever.
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Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 9:15 PM UTC
granddad’s arms
Amid the glory times of darkness, Sitting on the edge of the white tablecloth, Brilliant white from bleached soaking, and stained with yesterdays Clouds and air of desperation, was the cup, the coffee cup, Its broken flower coloration, its yellowish hue, Half full of what was once blistering hot, now the juice of warmth And the morning begins its wakening time. Four burners atop the gas stove, each with its black *** stand, Covered with blackened skillets, grease from the bacon, popping And sizzling and bringing the best of the day together, With the tablespoons of lard, from the five gallon silver bucket, Covered in white stained T-towels, and the shallow bowl in which you washed your hands. You dried your hands, loosely, leaving each damp and warm, As the biscuit dough was rolled, and broken up, and pinched into the skillet And then placed, with ringing noise, Deep within the ovens hole, no light there, and you could smell It all cooking, and see the hands that made it, With their wrinkles of days of and months and years, Making the breakfast of today, just as if it had made, no; it had made For many years. Bacon grease taken up on the tablespoon, and poured into the other skillet Black, and hot, and making that little sizzling noise, as the bacon fried, The biscuits backed, and the flours was spread in the skillet, Browning, hard little clumps; stirred around, spoon on the pan, And the milk poured from the quart jar, which was left on the porch this morning with four others, Before life as we knew it began, and the spoon turning, the heat from the stove Almost too much, and the gravy was stirred and turned, and stirred, Thickened up, burner down, and a dozen eggs cracked into the fourth skillet, Bubbling and popping, bacon taken up, put on a plate, the gravy stirred again, Biscuits pulled, placed on a potholder, their greasy tops looking fine and brown, Fresh butter, salt and pepper, breakfast was made again. For the umpteenth time in this umpteenth world.
0
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 2:05 PM UTC
Morning In My House
Amid the glory times of darkness, Sitting on the edge of the white tablecloth, Brilliant white from bleached soaking, and stained with yesterdays Clouds and air of desperation, was the cup, the coffee cup, Its broken flower coloration, its yellowish hue, Half full of what was once blistering hot, now the juice of warmth And the morning begins its wakening time. Four burners atop the gas stove, each with its black *** stand, Covered with blackened skillets, grease from the bacon, popping And sizzling and bringing the best of the day together, With the tablespoons of lard, from the five gallon silver bucket, Covered in white stained T-towels, and the shallow bowl in which you washed your hands. You dried your hands, loosely, leaving each damp and warm, As the biscuit dough was rolled, and broken up, and pinched into the skillet And then placed, with ringing noise, Deep within the ovens hole, no light there, and you could smell It all cooking, and see the hands that made it, With their wrinkles of days of and months and years, Making the breakfast of today, just as if it had made, no; it had made For many years. Bacon grease taken up on the tablespoon, and poured into the other skillet Black, and hot, and making that little sizzling noise, as the bacon fried, The biscuits backed, and the flours was spread in the skillet, Browning, hard little clumps; stirred around, spoon on the pan, And the milk poured from the quart jar, which was left on the porch this morning with four others, Before life as we knew it began, and the spoon turning, the heat from the stove Almost too much, and the gravy was stirred and turned, and stirred, Thickened up, burner down, and a dozen eggs cracked into the fourth skillet, Bubbling and popping, bacon taken up, put on a plate, the gravy stirred again, Biscuits pulled, placed on a potholder, their greasy tops looking fine and brown, Fresh butter, salt and pepper, breakfast was made again. For the umpteenth time in this umpteenth world.
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32
I. The door stands outlined in white: in this dark night, a presence weighs in from the corridor. The fan holds a garbled reflection of stray light on its illusory blade-disk. I'm talking about parthenogenesis. How can renewal be born, when creativity loses her companion, freedom? This monotone life lugs on. II. The tree shrugs the question off by her parting arms half-illumined by the streetlamp. The late bird of five calls flew away to a far-off tree, couldn't be bothered more. I hear a voice soft in the setting chill of the distant autumn: choked eyes beaming in love. I seek palingenesis. Check all emails and ensure zero unread. But answer none, follow up nothing. Umpteenth time through the day. III. Autotomy all over again. Habits die like tails, to be grown all over again. This is an etiological myth. An apocryphal story that renews itself on the palimpsest of life. I must cut my nails. This tea has brewed too dark.
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Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 1:06 PM UTC
Palingenesis
I am tired, I am sick I can sense the clock's each tick My eyes are droopy and my nose, runny When I speak, I do sound funny My mind seems to be fixated on whiskey I'm not drunk, and yet I feel frisky The sound of silence is like music to my ears My ailments have brought me to the verge of tears Here I am, racking my brains in search of a sonnet Wishing to lay under the blazing sun on my car's bonnet Twisting my words in ways I do not wish My Illness has been served like revenge, a cold dish Blowing into a hankey for the umpteenth time Sipping away at a glass of water and the syrup of lime Even gazing at the clouds has become a chore This sickness hinders my imagination, which makes life a bore
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Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 8:34 AM UTC
In sickness, not health
Delia who had bedded her French nanny at fourteen and had hot *** with the head girl at boarding school, now lies beside the arts tutor named Ms Shopton in college. She has explored the woman’s body from top to toe. Invaded each orifice and landed her ninety ninth plus umpteenth kiss. Sunlight pours through the high window, the woman’s scent and body odour invades the bed. She has kissed most parts that can be kissed, scanned the woman’s skin, taking in the freckles, the spots, the mole inside the left thigh, run her finger along the spine. She watches the woman sleep, the mouth slightly ajar, the perfect teeth, the tongue (who knows where that has been) touching the corner of the lips. She may well get a high A for this piece of art work, the effort put in, the juices taken out, the ********* and touching, the final lay. She breathes in the air, runs her tongue across her own damp lips. She hears the college bell, the time to get up, the breakfast call, the wide awake stare. The woman beside her sleeps on, lying worn out, out for the count, lying there.
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Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 3:47 AM UTC
DELIA AND THE ART TUTOR.
Not slow - But patient, Like love is patient. Patient like watching the ark being built And staying His torrential hand. Patient like letting His friend Lazurus die Knowing greater glory was planned. Patient like explaining for the umpteenth time How He must suffer at the hands of men. Patient like watching Judas scheme Waiting for His preordained end. Not impatient to come again Yet not slow to keep His promise, Simply yearning that all might be saved That salvation might be accomplished.
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May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 10:36 AM UTC
Divine Patience
Remind me, please Write me one more letter One like letters 16 through 53 The golden ages Write the last paragraph Like you don’t want it to end Squeeze out the lines You were planning on holding back Like you did For those 37 Teach me how to fall asleep before midnight Again Teach me how to wake up without hangovers How to wake up with ideas Show me everything Like our poetry collections Volumes 1 through 3 When we alternated days And submissions For 188 straight days Minus the 14 days We wrote four-letter poems Remind me, please When the bar was a date And 1.75 liters was a dinner party Not a Tuesday Make me pay you back The $65.00 in make-up That I used to paint “You’re too beautiful for make-up” On the bedroom wall Make me buy your little brother beer For painting over it Put 7,640 new songs on my itunes Because these 7,640 are played out Make sure we see every movie Nominated for best picture Before your cheesy award show party It’s up to ten now, you know Stay with me For nine more minutes While I hit snooze Awake and right at it Like ’04 Baby snores and blanket wars Like ’05 Up before the alarm Like ’06 Or at least in my dreams Like ’07 And ’08 Rub it in my face For the umpteenth time By taking extra good care of me When I’m sick Even though I never get sick Pose for me While I paint And stare Like that one time When you were feeling so brave Let’s spend our last $8.00 On yellow tail Our last $18.00 On Sebastiani Our last $38 On Veuve Cliquot Because every day is a celebration ******* Let’s reminisce on the 414 times Our bodies became one And the 671 times They were at least in the same bed Inspire me Call attention to my capabilities And caution to my chaos Instigate that ******* in me That made a jealous appearance or two At christmas parties and night clubs Hum me all 162 times I teared up in ’06 At the exact same time Like a drumline Of being lost Because baby i’m lost Point me Point me in the right direction Send me on the right path You know, the one with you at the end of it
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Jan 20, 2012
Jan 20, 2012 at 10:26 PM UTC
...but who's counting
Remind me, please Write me one more letter One like letters 16 through 53 The golden ages Write the last paragraph Like you don’t want it to end Squeeze out the lines You were planning on holding back Like you did For those 37 Teach me how to fall asleep before midnight Again Teach me how to wake up without hangovers How to wake up with ideas Show me everything Like our poetry collections Volumes 1 through 3 When we alternated days And submissions For 188 straight days Minus the 14 days We wrote four-letter poems Remind me, please When the bar was a date And 1.75 liters was a dinner party Not a Tuesday Make me pay you back The $65.00 in make-up That I used to paint “You’re too beautiful for make-up” On the bedroom wall Make me buy your little brother beer For painting over it Put 7,640 new songs on my itunes Because these 7,640 are played out Make sure we see every movie Nominated for best picture Before your cheesy award show party It’s up to ten now, you know Stay with me For nine more minutes While I hit snooze Awake and right at it Like ’04 Baby snores and blanket wars Like ’05 Up before the alarm Like ’06 Or at least in my dreams Like ’07 And ’08 Rub it in my face For the umpteenth time By taking extra good care of me When I’m sick Even though I never get sick Pose for me While I paint And stare Like that one time When you were feeling so brave Let’s spend our last $8.00 On yellow tail Our last $18.00 On Sebastiani Our last $38 On Veuve Cliquot Because every day is a celebration ******* Let’s reminisce on the 414 times Our bodies became one And the 671 times They were at least in the same bed Inspire me Call attention to my capabilities And caution to my chaos Instigate that ******* in me That made a jealous appearance or two At christmas parties and night clubs Hum me all 162 times I teared up in ’06 At the exact same time Like a drumline Of being lost Because baby i’m lost Point me Point me in the right direction Send me on the right path You know, the one with you at the end of it
Continue reading...
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I have been, I am and I will be documenting the complexities that run rampant within. It’d be easier if my mind and heart spoke the same language. Most times they’re in conflict. So I’ll cope in the best way I know how. I’ll keep posting... Because no amount of sentences... Can succinctly form the verses that fully capture what I see and think. No amount of metaphors... Can successfully mask and satisfy what I truly feel. No amount of poems... Can accurately draft the blueprint of what and why I am. Do forgive me for I have fallen far and deep. And for the umpteenth time, I am looking for that window or door so that I could see and taste purpose again. So please bear with me... There will be more to come as I indulge in my quest for equilibrium. Yours in ink, ryn .
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Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 9:34 PM UTC
Dear Readers,
*Hey over there you gods of the earth and other planets Your creature like I, a human mold suffices knowledge not, As you mightly rove all over the sphere and share domains amongtst thyself To reign over the whitenes, Jewry, negritude, sinotude plus yakeetude of mankind, Enjoying your ethereally eyeview onto the earth at your creations, Permit me to shoot up a guestion to you over there in your deitly realm Be you jehova of the jews or amadioha of the igbos,god of the english or anything dogmatic, What happened to your clay mud and tools pertinent in trade of human ****** creation, So that you of late on umpteenth scale have created men who are women And beautiful women who are aggressive mefolk and then ubuguitous earthwise ? What has gone heywire with your human architecture ,when *** organs and feelings Are center stage beckoning for their traditional orientation ? Is homoeroticality your new creation technology ? Or it is man recreating himself ? Don’t you have enough clay ? If material matters do you honourable deities Come to Africa , chief Mugabe bob will guide you to copper-belts Of chimurenga fields were clay is beyond any control, In such quests you will go back to goldenly old Human ****** creation topography That will glorify your deitiness In the old manner of hetereoeroticality.*
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May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC
*WHY CURRENTS gODS ARE CREATING MEN WHO ARE WOMEN VIS-À-VIS*
A chest of boardwalk and nails unscrewed, an arsenal of rusty marching faceless graffiti, musty multi-eyed designs and grinning tiny men right beside, with lips rose-pearl, sharp-end. Right beside small carriages to lend. Wall art wiping off like a fresh tan once winter comes, scrubbed with air-carried sea salt, reabsorbed into brickish mortar and tin-ringing structures that overlook sweezshing shoals; dough-rolled hats kneaded on shake-grain shores. This is where the wolf pup goes after it snatches the children of my wide-eyed games, figments of nativity babies and their red-cheeked discord. Wailing betrayal in a swaddling maw, Vanishing into these walls, and like that, more pinched-lipped mini-men lull this predicament into a then-ling ceased, ignored as the child-pile rises in the wolf's den. The umpteenth hour: i flip through old calendars and fill in the boxes of dates and reassemble daily fates in my head with pink marker tracing my palmsandpickingupsomethingwhatisthat— oh. just child #62 all plump and fat growing in my throat, rapidly birthed with a nasty cough. spit in my lungs. and she cries and then it's novoctuary (or just june) and the paws claw kindly, schlep-ripping my featureless form like knocking at a door, and this is the departure of my never-was newborn.
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Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
Failing to C(H)ope
It started on March 8th. You asked me why I didn't mention That I was raised by a strong woman. And I bit my tongue so hard I worried I might bleed. I realised for the umpteenth time that my first female role model Came into my life when I was in high school. In the form of an all girl punk band. I'd never seen anything so inspiring. Strong. I picked up a guitar for the first time that year. I felt like I finally knew who I was. I'd never had anyone to show me the ropes. How could I? With a mother so dependant on a father who doesn't understand a **** thing. Strong women hold themselves And others up. You showed me how to tear my sisters down. You tore me down. It wasn't until high school that I felt supported. I made a friend who would become family. She's one of the strongest women I know. She lifted me up. Still does. I became the woman I always needed. No thanks to you. Or maybe thanks to you Since I didn't get what I needed And now I'll never let the women in my life suffer the same way. I stand before you now with a girl gang who never fail to catch me when I fall. And I do the same for them. This is my Pack. We've built this family out of dreamers and doers And I finally feel like I'm gaining ground. Working towards the life I won't let get away. So when I look at you with that mouth full of blood From years of biting my tongue it doesn't hurt so bad. The tang of it tastes like strength. Like perseverance. Like dreams coming true.
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Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 11:28 AM UTC
International Women's Day