"underdeveloped" poems
Everyday,
I stare at my face in the mirror,
Wondering, wondering, wondering,
Why do I have acne?
I eat the slice of double cheese pizza that's cooling in my hand,
Putting it down, I touch the underdeveloped pimples on my face,
Popping each one out of irritation,
I finish by drinking two can of coco cola after.
**Oh, what a healthy life style I'm living!**
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 2:43 AM UTC
He's broken, he's in pieces, he's trapped, in a black hole
He's crying, he's heartbroken, he's dying of loneliness
He's confused, his mind is overloaded, his todger is dropping off
He's this and that and that and this
projecting your ******* fears and insecurities on him
Hahaha...hahaha...hahaha...hahaha...hahaha
You know what....He's NOT....he's laughing at you
He's happy that you now realize there are still men out there
who transcend your ******* stereotyping and imbecilic assumptions .
He's still laughing because he now sees for ******* real
how immature and mentally underdeveloped a lot of you are
and how so petty, mediocre and easy to manipulate you are
Not to mention how weak, spineless and unable to handle pressure
so many of you are.
He laughing because you just act without fully thinking
You are a shallow lot, cowardly, infantile and narrow minded
You lack sound reasoning capacity and a lot of you are neurotic
He's laughing because most believe anything they are told
Unquestioning drones like a Labrador thrown a stick
Go fetch, off he runs, retrieve stick, pat on the head, good boy
Just simple minded followers.
He laughing because he's attained all he wanted
Got a good education, good self understanding, good morality
sensitivity, compassion, empathy, confidence and honesty
A well drilled man, adaptable, flexible, courageous and brave
A MODERN DAY SPARTAN.
He's laughing because you can't ******* take that away
He's laughing because he's shown you how a proper man is
He's laughing because he's invalidated your stereotypical
assumptions, your prejudices, your bigotry and your ignorance
He's laughing because you have confirmed your inferiority
exposed your fears and inadequacies and make others see how
damaged and vindictive you are
He's laughing because out of all only one woman has shown
magnanimity and she didn't belong to the class of the mediocres
Which proves the point that mediocrity goes hand in hand
with ignorance, fear and lack of Dignity and Integrity.
And he's laughing because he's got chutzpah
a big package
and a hell of "tener cojones"
hahaha...hahaha...hahaha...hahaha
[email protected] Sept 2018,Allrightsreserved.
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 9:54 AM UTC
I am common.
seemingly feminine
but shoulders strong
as barbed-wire.
like a chicken I am
underdeveloped—my wings
weak and unable to
lift me into the air.
I am preoccupied
in self-identified war
with the 875 square foot
apartment and the pasta
that refuses to boil.
on my knees, I
crawl
reconciling rhyme
and reason for
suffering.
the world has gone awry,
I say to myself on an
afternoon bike ride
through wooded
pain, my face
a perfect plane for
scathing branches.
quick and easy blood
am I.
wretched and astonishing
is the rhetoric I
find in the hollow of
my rib.
I am common
but not so when
written by hand.
Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 4:14 PM UTC
Memories can become blurry, over time,
like underdeveloped photographs,
or incomplete, like sunlight through blinds.
Our lives move ever forward,
like the inflexible patterns of stars.
Once fevered and immediate events
recede, with frightening, doppler effect,
as remembered yesterdays,
become forgotten yesterdays.
New Haven was abuzz. The hotels were booked and moving trucks had taken every free parking space for miles. Last Sunday was freshmen move-in day and 1,554 freshmen moved into their Yale residences. It’s one of our favorite days of the year. The hubbub of freshmen moving, lunching, shopping and later, seeing off their departing parents, created a delicious emotional chaos that we watched unfold, like a Greek chorus.
The movie ‘Love Actually’ begins and ends with montages of people greeting friends, family and loved ones at Heathrow airport - it’s emotional and heartwarming. Move-in days are a lot like that - with their gordian knots of beginnings and endings. My parents were nervous and emotional on my freshman move-in day - as was I - but we all tried, desperately, not to show it.
Welcome to New Haven freshmen, everything’s beautiful, but you’ll get too busy to enjoy it much.
We upperclassmen move in tomorrow.
Aug 24, 2023
Aug 24, 2023 at 1:20 PM UTC
I wanted to be better than what
I’ve become. Like maybe a
real individual: An intellectual
in a burgundy bathrobe.
I would have specs
and impressive novels to peer
into the future with.
But I am just the same as
yesterday. They say I’m an
adult, but my robe is still
hot pink. My glasses are still
plastic. My novels are still
popular fiction.
All that I have become is underdeveloped.
Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 1:08 PM UTC
nineteen
the age of uncertainty
underdeveloped prefrontal cortex
development of morality
nineteen
inside, still a child
outside fully pubescent
on your own
nineteen
too young for the real thing
but slowly learning the landscape
to the world of adulthood
nineteen
the age of beauty
blossoming realizations
living
nineteen
the worlds not what it seems
experience things in a new way
that you never though existed
nineteen
the peak of psychological disorders
anxiety and depression
heartache
fear, instability
and restlessness
nineteen
last year as a teen
a year filled with mystery
and hope
life
love
not a breath wasted
if you know how,
keep breathing
Dec 26, 2010
Dec 26, 2010 at 7:42 PM UTC
Over excessive society,
Underdeveloped minds.
Grouped groups, linked
Produced in modes, suffocating
In their consciousness. Fear
Of the self righteous, The many
Determine the one.
Social disorder
Conjured
By a thought, felt by all.
I have seen chivalry beaten and left
For dead, “sleepwalkers” corrupting
Youths, scared to look back, a time of
Deadbeat parents and lost
Souls. I know more than I care to admit.
This world that beckons,
Euthanasia.
Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 2:00 PM UTC
To be taken silently with violence
Not to utter a salutation
Just the cracking of a door hinge
And a look that indicates that stopping your desires would be laughable
An absurdity
not to be pondered!
The jolting sound of head cracking against metal
And wrist yearning to be ground to the bone
After hours of furtive clutching
The kind on nail bending fervor that just takes the taste right from bread
Grabbed into a cranium synthesis
Im am forever enslaved in the darkest corridor of your existence
I doubt I will ever be able to leave this lighting wasteland
The eagerness pounding through the point were skin meets weapon
I am infiltrated like a shanty filled village
A real slum filled valley
Hopeless against tracking systems and torture methods
You plunder my underdeveloped hospitality
Like Jesus to a farm boy
As I scream **** you Mongoloid
I am gasping into your filth
A sacrificial lamb
Bliss by the slaughter wells
Mouthfuls of disgust
As your knees jab deep into skid row
Grinding the forgotten and the deserted
Until they are flattened corpses
****** dry of the water holding them together
You are pleased
The phantom has been fed and to ask for seconds would only tease the lamb
As I lay gushing organs with a smirk
Broken bent and emaciated
I feel alive and it is wondrous.
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 9:02 AM UTC
"The most delicate flower somehow held all of the power.
The lust inside her big brown eyes never lies.
I'll never forget the look in those eyes when I first seen the scars on her inner thighs.
Every time she adds another scar,
its like a piece of me dies.
She swears that I'm not the one.
but I always am the one who she calls whenever her current lovers turn away and run.
Her new relationships fail and she starts to come undone.
Underdeveloped, out of touch with her own self,
gave her everything she wanted,
but still was never enough.
Incomplete, never fully ripe just like the stupid
avocados that she loves so much.
Gave her the moon and the stars,
but she wanted the whole entire galaxy.
Though the whole entire galaxy was in her own eyes,
so it's something she could never see.
The truth is that she is the only one who could turn her own avocados into guacamole."
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 12:14 AM UTC
I should shut up soon, zip up
My mouth and hack my pen
Maybe I can stay with orange
Ink and licit words spread
All over the place. You bet.
Get me some poison Iago!
Forest and its men; ***
‘Underdeveloped illiterate pigs’
"Fish! We need development
**** it all, one by one and make-
A main streamers committee"
Get me some poison Iago!
I should soon quit voting
If am ordered to ink my nail for
A caste, a religion or a loser
Maybe I should vote, but
There's a shoot at sight notice.Oops.
Get me some poison Iago!
DIG-IT-ALl? Total babe!
Let’s talk about empowerment
And a survey on farmer’s suicide
But no new-generation
“mushy mushy”, save our culture
Get me some poison Iago!
I should stop eating as well,
Cook books unavailable, animals
Went back to temples ****
I really have a bad taste for
Green-lush-healthy-vegetables
Get me some poison Iago!
“Get inside, get inside”
Set an alarm and get inside
“Cover up, cover up”
Never dream an opening up
“Rapists are rapping out there”
Get me some poison Iago!
We are DEMO-crazy! Hell yea!
Where is my salvation?
Killer idea sirji! Killer idea!
***** tonight?”
“Hang up. Someone’s knocking”
Get me some poison Iago!
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 12:15 PM UTC
I miss the warm tethered entanglement
Of white hot invading veins
And boiling blood slithering
Innocent lust for rage
Driven by underdeveloped
Over stimulated blessings of adolescence.
Age hardens the stone of flesh
Once fluid magma erupting
From volcanoes of mole hills
Turned mountains by the quick tempered.
Spitfire tongue incinerating old walkways
Patience and time cool the ferocity
Burning rivers now gentle streams
Chisling rough roads, eroding paths.
Ancient doors reopened
Ready for the next adventure to take place.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 12:27 PM UTC
my body is boiled down to liquid
creamy with memories and sharp with tears
you take in the bitter drink to forget your woes
by digesting all of mine
i am the alcohol
all the pictures that you've thrown
every piece of clothing with seams and strands exposed
all the nights when you've gone home feeling so alone
its at this hour all those drinks have lost their trick
and you're curled up into your bed listening to the clock as it ticks
becoming fixed on its pattern and rhythm until thats all that you know
you count every second as you begin to show
your true form once outer skin sheds in a horrifying transformation
and your eyes lose their grip on liquid sanity
you've regressed to weeping child
your underdeveloped mind has made a poor decision
and your small liver cannot process this many pills
your death will come as shocking and traumatizing to many
they'll drink to forget their woes
going home yet another night alone
listening to their clock as it ticks
wishing they could hold onto you now
rather than a bottle of a temporary fix
as they count the seconds since they've heard you laugh
they look up at their ceiling fan
and feel so empty
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 1:20 PM UTC
puffed out chest, ignorant, aggressive, and far too conceited
these are the traits of a man whose biggest fear is looking defeated
to admit fault and apologize is the same as having retreated
one can't debate these fools as the arguments will soon become heated
and odds are if you keep this up you're bound to be maltreated
it's like their brains are underdeveloped; functioning yet uncompleted
they don't learn from lawful punishment and the behaviour is repeated
my patience with some people is really becoming depleted
if only there were an ethical way to have some of them deleted
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 12:26 AM UTC
Good girl's don't tell,
You should do as I say & not as I do.
Mama said
respect my elders so respectfully
I'll lay here and not make a sound.
You've told me
God
rewards good girls when they obey their parents and being my foster parent I must do as
God
tells me so obey you I do,
I brush my teeth and let you brush my hair,
you lift a trestle
to your nose ,
smell deeply then brush my hair some more.
I must be a sacrificial lamb and let your will be done.
The pink lace type nightgown fits me a bit big, the perfume makes me
sneeze
- -
ahchoo ahchoo
I don't like the rouge on my cheeks and this light brown powdery stuff
smell like old women and itches,
but
I smile cause it hides the swelling purplish bruises
on my eye and right cheek.
It also makes me feel so beautiful,
specially cause of the look in your eyes,
I know that
You
like how I look from
the smirk on your face.
I sit down as you've instructed,
watching you as you go to the door
locking it,
I don't know what to think or how you feel
but you tell me that
I'm special,
magically so and you'd die
if you can't have me.
I don't know what you mean
still
I come up to you and rub your back.
It always worked
when my
Nana
did this to me,
giving me comfort as any good parent should.
You on the other hand
hold
me and tell me I am so lovely
Yet your
not accepting the
father/ daughter comforts I wish to give you.
My naivete's got you looking at me
strangely
and in this fortress- locked room you take it upon yourself
to demonstrate just what I truly mean to you ,
you kiss,
you kiss my lips
, touch my chest,
sliding your hand down
my
underdeveloped
body
with a hunger in your eyes of which
I can't place,
I'm frighten and worried
yet you tell me
to relax and lay on the bed,
repeating to me that
Good Girl's Don't Tell.
Always Me Ayeshah ®
Copyright 1977 - Present ©
K.A.C.L.N ©
All right reserved ®
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 4:52 AM UTC
Let the film end before intermission
characters be underdeveloped
let the plot lie open like cut veins
and let the the background score
resonate in the hall at its shrill note
It's a broken piece of the heart
cracked into two:
two faces reside here now
on either sides of the chasm.
Make whatever you wish out of it
Sweet or bitter end,
tragedy, comedy or farce
or thriller or horror,
write your own story, make it up.
take any road up the hill
to eternity beyond.
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 6:14 AM UTC
I'm a sheltered nineteen-year-old
from Northeastern Nowhere,
Pennsylvania. I spent my preteens
worrying about girls and digging
holes in the backyard. I had my friends.
Two or three middle-low class kids
down the street. We rode bikes, played
video games, and occasionally watched **** together.
It seems a lot weirder now than it did in the moment.
We made memories daily and spoke our
underdeveloped minds. At thirteen, politics
were simply, **** Capitol Hill" or "the prez's
a crook." Things change, though.
I still know little about politics, but I'm sure
there's at least one good policy in effect.
Everyone eventually goes their separate ways
and the phone lines between us get damp
or get cut. I haven't dug holes since a landslide
filled in my work. I traded in my bike
for four wheels and a piece of wood. My Nikes
are now Toms, and I don't worry about girls.
Just the one I've been with for almost four years.
Instead of **** I look up synonyms, so I can
sound a bit smarter at 7:30 AM typing my thoughts.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 8:07 AM UTC
Are human beings programmed to stay?
"Beginning to end"
could be programmed into a person's make-up but
disregard of human design is detrimental to
everyone around that human.
For everyone involved,
getting hurt is inevitable.
Help is not on its way,
instead you are left to fend for yourself.
Just waking up could become impossible,
killing yourself slowly through
love or cigarettes or
more drugs and alcohol than the city could handle.
Nothing could ever
open up the world of
pain better than
quarreling with your own demons.
Reaching out for a hand that
stops reaching for yours
teaches self-harm better than
underdeveloped scars ever could.
Veins are paint trays begging to be opened,
watered down with the
x-ray's of splintered bones from the first hit.
Your pain is inevitable,
zipping with the force of unrequited love.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 12:47 AM UTC
In any mirrored face
the homeless sees nothing shuffling
from his favorite stores
At night they feel their wild
canine teeth
Words surfacing
uncollected in fragments and scratches
besde underdeveloped manors
in the city's growing mold
and buildings separated by dust like a ream of books
on the trail to the open west
Noise clock, sharp chiming
and unbearable
soot blackness of perpetual rain
pulsing faintly in a palsied
flow of the oppressive
heats and sounds
My sister is a forgotten composer of rebellion
given only the courage
to think her words will merely be
a droning
cello's moans
and preludes unsettled
and old
Without authority
someone might hear her
centuries too late
when few will give her a wait or wax cylinder
of words no better than it's tremorless
indentations unseen by the eyes and ears
The days of crystalized quartz
and effeminate handshakes and kisses
vacant gestures and the beautiful
view of the destitue on a warm
spring morning in the park
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 1:23 PM UTC
i’m submissive,
to my small light rectangle,
rectangle of hope,
beeping with admiration and love,
an opportunity to scorn myself and read deeply into everything and imagine constant hatred and captured screen images shared with disgust and ellipsis
i want that hope and light and soaring amongst blue sky and hand holding
then i don’t want the inevitable tears as i imagine all the ways you hate me,
all the little cracks inside you, filled with hate for me,
love yesterday melted away,
leaving empty holes for hatred
reserved for me,
more than anyone,
because who’s worse than me?
your love is pretend,
i’m sorry,
i just.
feel like.
it is.
not that it’s you. you don’t make me feel like that.
my brain just
tells me that
!
i’m not sure if its you.
you snap at me a lot, you’re hard to read, but you have a soft heart and softer eyes and a big smile and nice lips that leave pretty imprints on my cheeks
i
don’t
know
you’re so perfect.
where in you is there room for love for me? i am so flawed, so underdeveloped?
will this be nothing in a year?
will we not be friends?
i’m scared but i did something. i did something i wanted to do. we’re more than friends right now. we’re relationship partner cheek kissing hand holding giggling people which is fine with me.
i hope not too much changes.
don’t be weird.
i hope you like me.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 2:59 AM UTC
Anaphora I feel for you
Anaphora I like you
Anaphora I met you at a party
Anaphora I didn't think you'd remember me but
Anaphora I found out you did when you asked about
Anaphora I had told you about
Anaphora I remember you wanted to know
Anaphora I think there may have been something
Anaphora I something deeper at play but
Anaphora I'm not quite sure
Anaphora I may look like I have it all, but a large part of me remains underdeveloped, I'm not sure how to map out the chart of my feelings, if you remember me now, please
Anaphora I say something, please reach out again over
Anaphora I over that black void and find me, alive, waiting patiently by the phone for your ring,
Anaphora I or your words to save from doubt
Anna Foura, I feel trapped, like some protagonist from an old Russian book, probably approved by Chekhov, I lie in wait playing dissonant jazz and idle daydreaming, I miss you ana
Foura I feel for you anaphora.
Aug 4, 2022
Aug 4, 2022 at 1:23 PM UTC
You're like every other free-spirit.
No more free than a bird in a cage
Or a fish in a tank.
The only thing you see is your own reflection.
The only approval you need is from yourself
And that's how it should be,
But when the only opinion you see is yours
You have a problem.
I don't mean to sound angry
Because I'm not.
This is a lesson in growing up.
The sooner you learn it the better.
Underdeveloped sense of self-worth
And an overdeveloped sense for yourself.
The world owes you nothing more than the air you breathe
And even that seems like it's pushing it.
Give more than you receive.
Be a humble person.
Easy lessons,
But I guess not for you.
I hope this finds you well.
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 11:30 PM UTC
When glancing through the mental pictures
Of pure and innocent babyhood and childhood
(Pure and innocent, in the righteous sense that
Of being distant from and unknowledgeable of
The mischievous pranks of elder humanity-
‘War, ****** treason, terrorism and all felony’
Which contribute to building a senseless world,
Composed of a grown-up and misled community
That claims ‘mature’ and acts immature.) ,
I regain true consciousness
Of the wisdom I possessed as a child
And of the folly I bear along now.
It’s a truth undeniable that I state here-
One lives his/her life the best and most best
In the un-grown, underdeveloped human form
And the un-waiting glide of time transforms
Purity into impurity and innocence into guilt,
Maturity into immaturity and wisdom into folly.
For when humans understand what’s right and wrong,
They advertise their tendency to choose the wrong.
Exceptions, in this case, are rare to note down.
As much as the wicked world of today is concerned
And in general sense, mere physical growth
Undermines necessary moral growth.
Now here, being a part of this wicked world,
I sadly reflect on those joyous days of old
And in this present age, I try much to recollect
Those sweet memories of childish virtue.
Mar 5, 2010
Mar 5, 2010 at 1:25 AM UTC
You used to like untangling my braids and bobby pins.
You loved it when my knees were just draped over yours.
You said you liked the way my skin looked porcelain over your sun kissed legs.
You'd kiss every freckle and define my gentle jaw with your lips.
You never called me beautiful,
you were more creative,
more artistic than that.
You hid poetry around the apartment,
under chairs,
on window sills and my favorite,
in empty pockets for me to find when we weren't home together.
You'd hide the best ones underneath the floorboards, for only us to find.
As long as those words were hidden, so were we.
Your favorite place to hide is in the kitchen masked by flour and spices,
waiting for me to find you.
And your favorite place to find me is running the bathwater among lit candles.
Jun 5, 2012
Jun 5, 2012 at 5:49 PM UTC
Good Morning America
Act Now!
For today the price is right.
Our American idols have been conveniently portioned and pre-packaged for your enjoyment.
The wheels of fortune have turned in our favor,
laying us down in our warm beds of satisfaction.
Dreaming of the X-factor that will give us our
fifteen minutes
A girl,
no more than sixteen
and pregnant
strives to be a top model.
Overexposed and underdeveloped
barely able to read or write,
she is paraded in front of a camera and lights.
And the studio exec will keep cuttin' those paychecks
as long as you keep tuning in for another
fifteen minutes
The education can wait until the spotlight fades
who needs class mates when you got fans,
as long as those lights keep flashing on your fame, you got another
fifteen minutes
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
Lord grant me the audacity.
To again be a 23 year old marshmallow
Partying every night at the campfire with a bunch of skewers.
The audacity
To feel outstanding
With an underdeveloped frontal lobe
Floating around in cherry bombs and Stroh’s
To survive being invincible and brave and strong enough to make bold and terrible decisions
And blessedly wake to another sunrise
Never grateful to be alive.
******* *****
How does anyone survive their early 20s.
Sheer audacity.
Nov 1, 2021
Nov 1, 2021 at 11:15 PM UTC