"undoubtably" poems
they say you shouldn't hold tight onto a dark memory
because the demons will slowly take over
and corrupt your sanity.
what they fail to mention is releasing your grip, allowing yourself to cave in and be consumed with your reality is the most painful of all.
frame by frame of the haunting must now be relived.
the aroma, the deafening pounding of your heart in your ears, the clenching of your bones.
the most engaging and powerful moment of one's life is undoubtably the moment you must
allow yourself to not only remember,
but be enveloped by the terror
once again.
speaking aloud is what changes
a memory into reality.
why must facing the truth be the most painful?
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 8:20 AM UTC
If you think this might be about you, please, don't stop reading.
Though I might not know you yet I have probably encountered you before.
We probably avoided colliding but secretly we wanted to. Maybe you are one of the boys on the bus who, for a sixteenth of a second makes my heart pound and my fingertips go numb, hoping that you'd notice me.
I want you to play your tongue across the piano keys of my teeth.
I want us to sing the themes of Pucchini operas while we make rainy Sunday pancakes.
I want to walk with you through the vineyards of your homeland.
Let me take the weight of your world and put it somewhere beneath my shoulders,
for me to carry with me.
I will never use us in the past tense.
We will never look sad in photographs
and our airmail correspondances will be kept in floral boxes and hidden
for one of our daughters to discover.
Our love will be in the brushstrokes of Signac and Monet.
We will discover that the island of Hawaii
is like the excess emotions of the world
that have congealed out of the earth
to be comforted by the rocking waves.
The sunsets hearts of the people will welcome us.
On the black earth
they walk
their hands filled with sun bleached coral stones.
And they spell out messages and write out the names of the ones they love
so even God can read what's in their hearts.
And when the world takes you from me
which it undoubtably will
I will scatter your ashes in the places we have walked.
along the vineyard trails
and the mountain peaks
and in the deepest oceans we crossed for one another
I will let go of you
let you leave my hands on the winds that rush through Death Valley
while I drive along the same highway
that we carved together.
And I will return to the island of Hawaii
carrying white stones to write out your name
for God to read.
May 17, 2011
May 17, 2011 at 7:20 PM UTC
Suicide undoubtably swallows my family whole...
Wether it's failed attempts or successful memories
It consumes us.
Well, me anyways,
and whatever "family" I have left.
By suicide,
I don't necessarily mean death.
Drugs eating the brain,
Alcohol stealing life...
And then,
Literal suicide-death.
When my brains trails off to this action,
I let its leash go and it runs wild,
Going through different scenarios and planning my lonely funeral.
Jumping through hoops and falling off the cliff of sanity,
I can't capture my mind again without the help off medical candy.
When my mind's tied up again,
I open my eyes to reality of
White walls and crazed people surrounding me,
Locked in mental institution yet again...
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 6:46 PM UTC
Wouldn’t it be grand
if everyday were a masquerade?
Hiding behind mask and hand...
Mystery to never fade.
Emotions to run free!
As they hide safely away.
One becomes whomever they wish to be...
As all are unseen through each night and day.
What confusion it would breed!
To never know who is who...
Certainty would quickly become a need.
Plague our world with doubt these masks would surely do.
Off they would eventually go...
As the thirst for truth is much too strong.
It is quite the curious thing however...
Honesty, without a mask, still goes wrong.
That’s the unfortunate reality.
Although a mask provides a comforting lure,
lies thrive in all that is thought to be undoubtably seen.
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 6:30 PM UTC
I am part of a fighting generation
and i don't believe that
I am among people who will help me
I understand that
we all struggle sometimes
but my friends let me know
I mean nothing to them
instead of saying
they appreciate me as a person
when i struggle
even my family tells me
to **** it up
no one says
it's okay to be weak
I know that
we have lost any love we used to have
and i'm dumb to think
I will find someone who will always get me through
my problems.
To get help with
the social scene
I will dismiss
my distressed friend
to spend time with
the kids who party
I will ignore
the boy that asks me how my day was
to fall in love with
the boy who cheats on his girlfriend
I will scream at
my parents
and I will love
nothing
i will undoubtably hate
myself
and i will treasure
material things
I won't need
love
All I will know is
change
I know that nothing will
reverse this
Unless I choose to
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 7:32 PM UTC
Im saying goodbye
but not to you,
because you have been long gone.
Im saying hello
To a new woman
who has grown from the ashes of that destroyed little girl
Im saying farewell
to those never ending tears
which will undoubtably fall again for another
Im saying its great to see you again
Since you’ve been so down for so long
doubting every thought entering your mind
Im saying never speak to me again
because you wanted nothing but to bleed
to gasp for a last chance at life
Im saying stay with me
to that courage
to the smile that shines through those eyes
Im saying its over
Because i dont love you
not like i love her
Im telling her I love her
because you didnt anymore
And to be deadly honest
Im better off with you not loving me
I rather love myself then you.
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 1:50 AM UTC
She's a thousand miles from where she needs to be,
With a hundred and seven things to do.
And the only things she manages are
"Wince, breath, hold it in, and turn blue."
Exhaling,
She turns to see a path carved of her own destruction
In her wake.
Unaware of how she got here, and now:
Her heart is torn in two.
You think it's wether it's him or wether it's you.
But it's wether it's to sleep forever or stay 'til forever gives up on her.
Involuntarily,
She stumbles on the trail of bodies
In her wake.
It's months or maybe millennia later,
Time has no compassion here.
Her immortal face is as unwavering as stone.
But the scars she's counted have undoubtably grown.
Her bones hide secrets the whole world knows.
And though she'll burn from the heat of the stones they throw.
Everything is still drowning amongst waves
In her wake.
But she knows how to make time and all of everything stand still.
She can ease the world of her venomous touch.
With a single bolt of lead and palm full of small white relief,
At last,
All of us can be put out of her misery.
Only the obligatory tears will fall
When the guest books from her history spill from the celebratory halls
At her wake.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 6:29 AM UTC
once the small
haze lifts,
of your
blue adoring eyes,
it will all
come crumbling,
slowly
but surely
down.
once your hands
are lifted,
from the angles of my
jaw,
your fingertips to follow,
releasing my blood
flushed cheeks.
undoubtably,
it will all
come fizzling,
calmly
but absolutely
down.
once i stop
remembering,
will something
else follow?
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 9:47 AM UTC
An open mind and a weak heart
A smile that never ceases
With eyes that undoubtably tear
A resilient shell
Covering the most delicate of emotions
Never fearing the pain caused by herself
Anger never staying concrete
Forgiveness often giving for the non deserving
A soul to often crushed
I still smile
I still love
I still have hope.
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 2:46 PM UTC
Progress:
The culmination of efforts over time.
It is never a linear thing.
It is never out of reach.
We all face struggles that devour us like a sandstorm consumes a village.
And then there are days where the beauty of life surrounds us and we are undoubtably thankful and blessed.
Threw these trials and tribulations,
These conquering moments and tremendous defeats. We must always remember to focus on the beauty of the life around us.
Keep your eyes on the goals you set before yourself and never close your eyes on these goals.
For the moment you lose faith and look away is the moment that success is closer then you think.
That is when you make the most.
PROGRESS.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 12:06 AM UTC
It kills me sometimes
-- sometimes how you say my name:
the harsh undertones
in your eyes,
-- sometimes how you speak with me:
shouting,
undermining,
belittling.
Sometimes how you love me
-- so passionately,
so truly,
undoubtably:
sometimes how you love me;
it kills me sometimes.
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 12:32 AM UTC
So Who’s The HARDEST... ?!?
And Who’s The Smartest... ?!?
And Who HITS Those TARGETS...
Where... Profit Margins...
Get Careers STARTED... ?!?
WITHOUT Having To BARGAIN...
Like A WINGLESS Starling... !!!
I’m ONLY Really NOW Starting...
To See How DARKNESS...
... RULES The Markets... !!!
of Those Now CLAIMING...
To Be The... HARDEST... !!!
From Sport To ****
To Who Runs FASTEST... ?!?
It Seems That What’s POOR...
Is What People... ADORE... ?!?
So As I Said It’s... ******
Who Keep Getting Applause... !?!
From **** Now Born...
From The HARDEST Dark ***** !!!
Splitting MORE Than White Lips... !!!
To The Type of Shows...
Where The HARDEST Jokes...
Get To Be WELL KNOWN...
And Earn REAL HARD Dough... !!!
So YES... You’ve Guessed...
That What This Poem Suggests...
Is That The Word HARDEST...
In This Case Means The BEST... !!!
Or In The Case of *** !!!
It Means The BIGGEST *****
With The Length And Breadth...
That Girlies... CAN’T Resist...
Because of HOW WET...
Their ******* Get...
When They Let Them In... !!!
It’s A FUNNY Old Thing...
How A Word Can SWING...
And Link To Different Things...
Like The HARDEST Lyrics...
From A REAL LYRICIST... !!!
That’s RIGHT Like..... ME..... !!!
NOT Quite... “ LEGENDARY “...
But In The End Folks Will SEE...
That Big Virge Has Written...
Some TRULY HARD POETRY... !!!
That Deals In TRUTH And REALITY...
So Is FILLED With Visions...
That Are PRESCRIPTIONS...
To Which Folks Should Listen...
Because of The WISDOM...
That Is Shown Within Em’... !!!
Built From DEEP Thinking...
Like The HARDEST VILLAIN... !!!
Who Wants To See The SYSTEM...
Be What IS... “IMPRISONED”...
In The HARDEST Prison... !!!
That Is... UNFORGIVING...
of The HARDEST RACISM...
And Forms of DIVISION... !!!
That’s Been MORE Than SCRIPTED... !!!
Because It’s What’s DRIVEN...
What Is NOW In Vision...
... WEAKENED Markets...
Protests CHARGING... !!!!
And MUCH MORE DARKNESS... !!!
Than There Is Folks LAUGHING... !!!
Well Me I’m STILL MOVING...
Just Like Those TARGETS... !!!
With Wordplay PROVING...
That... What I Design...
In Words That I Rhyme...
Is......
... UNDOUBTABLY ARDENT...
Just Like A Bugs Varmint... !!!
They May NOT Be The SMARTEST... ?!?
But Are Those of An ARTIST...
Whose Art Is WAY PAST...
Those Who Are CLAIMING...
To Be The...
.... “ HARDEST “.... !!!
Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 11:23 PM UTC
Stab me in the eyes, let me not see your filthy crimes.
Your hands are full of blood, the victims everlasting cries.
Your voice is swarmy as you hide beneath the tides of your lies.
You ******* with fear as your smile is not sincere.
The ringing bell shall be of help but if it rang.
With the question at mind I ask you very nice.
Where were you last night when Mrs Helmer died?
Your rage reeks upon your neck as you answer me.
Your sky is no longer blue and I can see.
It's on this day when I wish I couldn't see.
Oh what great trouble you're in.
"Curiousity kills a cat"
I now know what that means.
I wonder of the ****** weapon and where it's hid.
Stab me in the eyes, let me not see your filthy crimes.
You've ruined my life intirely.
For years you've been a friend undoubtably.
Lies, lies, lies.
There comes a time for those, the wise man knows.
My poker face isn't as fine as that of a friend I know.
Stab me in the eyes, let me not see your filthy crimes
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 3:23 PM UTC
Organizing the desk
on solid wood
if only i
understood
Sorting the papers,
a perpetual mess,
thoughts
my mind
wishes
to confess.
Shredding the confidentials
security measures,
they could never
understand
my secret treasures.
Boxing the pictures
with pain
inside
nonetheless,
the moon moves
along with the tide.
Time is always changing,
looking from
within.
I know the life
I must choose,
But you?
will undoubtably
see it,
a life full of sin.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 9:40 PM UTC
Pale cheeks and eyes of innocents
she with holds too much pain to be known. Invisible unless needed, deprived of self worth, and discarded for the sake of not meeting society's standards for what is considered a beautiful person. Accepting the sorrows of others for the sake of them not being hurt by their own misfortunes thus causing her to spiral down a never ending staircase which only gets more lonely the farther she tumbles. Surrounded by those with claims of desires only to be shown through the selfish lusts of their own wants different than spoken, for ending in a tragic flaw presented by the misinterpreted Heroes themself. What is worth her time for she is more wise than those of her time because she spends such hours in situations unfamiliar to those of whom before her time. Her uncharted royalty illuminates individuals that recognize such value and are drawn to the aura glistening off the dullest of unpolished possessions leading them to question the recognizability of her worth which appears undoubtably answered through the remarks and expression of the crumbling world around her. However after she makes her depart from this temporary home of which we call a world, equals find her to be appealing and more wise than any role model whom set the standard. Others do not have this problem because they were part of those lucky individuals with appearances socially acceptable. As if society it self actually knows them. Her pale cheeks and eyes of innocents which withhold too much pain for one person shall continue their days being a passing face as only a blur on a page with worth cast aside until she breaks from the never ending sorrows of others. One does not receive a value nor acknowledgement by other humans unless they are either pretty of dead.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 3:34 AM UTC
When I am with you, you shall find
I undoubtably lose my mind
I hate my life, I thrash, you sneer
You do this to me every year!
The pain is like a tearing scorcher
You subject me to such deadly torture
I will not stand it. I cannot.
I must not get another shot.
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 2:49 AM UTC
Stop, I shout
At the venom you spout
I am fine the way I am!
Please, I say
God made me this way
I am fine the way I am!
Angrily, I cry
Am I broken, I sigh
Aren't I fine the way I am?
You are right, I whisper
I am not a pretty picture
I will change the way I am!
Ok, I state
And part hesitate
I will change the way I am!
Entangled and trapped
I can't react
I'm trying to change the way I am!
Enslaved and broken
My words unspoken
I can't change the way I am?
Wearily, I speak
Confusion at its peak
I can't change the way I am!
The essence of me
Is undoubtably me
And I am the way I am! ! !
Enraged, I scorn!
You have been warned!
Love me or let me be....
Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 1:41 PM UTC
Sometimes I sit and wonder about the strangers who read my life.
Do you think I’m using rhetoric?
Do you think I’m spinning webs?
Do you think it’s all words spewed from a wandering mind of fantasy?
Am I?
There are three sides to every story:
That is yours, mine, and the truth.
If I recorded every moment
and shared them all
With you
Would you see my lense as skewed?
Undoubtably it is.
Can a man really be objective?
One can try,
But there is no try
Only do or do not.
I wish I wrote fiction.
Maybe I’ll give that a try
Nov 30, 2019
Nov 30, 2019 at 11:44 AM UTC
the conversations are magnified by the bare walls of the room
what causes people to have so much to talk about ?
themselves, naturally
you would have to turn people inside out
to eliminate the constant first person narrative
this is going nowhere fast
while the Walls of Jericho did undoubtably tumble
they were built of inhuman stone
and fell much more easily
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 11:27 AM UTC
To die in my own arms.
To experience rapture in my world
encompasses a field of hindrance.
Undoubtably failing,
to seek those who comfort me in a world of nonfulfillment.
A confined receptacle of positive emotions
struggling to be kept shut tight,
as I meander the streets of the bold and proper.
Unconventional workings of the mind projected by waves of sound ******
causes discomfort to those who have listened in company of me.
Notability has been afar,
since I had last possessed it so greatly.
I am now the last of what to be known,
as the person I once was to be.
Lust awaits behind a door,
a door that has weakened with seniority.
Love appears to be concealed in fear.
Rejection is relative to love's own emotion.
Lust is what terminates the opportunity of love,
when oral phrasing is miscalculated from it's true meaning.
Never have I been so doltish,
and scatterbrained I seem to be.
Alone I am It seems to me.
Will solitude become my everlasting acquaintance?
It's been surely devoted for quite some time,
although I'd prefer to meet it's demise.
Nevermore I seek to idolize,
such a classification that rebuffs me.
I'll keep to me and one day I shall see,
It is but only me,
who has been faithful to fidelity.
Failure to remain in solidarity any longer,
with thoughts I blindly accept.
Denial will get myself nowhere,
but a premature casket that aimed to be fulfilled by an obsolete version of me.
I have yet to find such love again.
Nostalgia appears to be such a unique function of the memory.
Yet nostalgia for me,
causes misery when reminding me of what I once had, and will forever fail to achieve again.
Two malignant relatives haunt me as I attempt to dream of peace and tranquility.
Malicious enemies such as depression and loneliness will forever cease my ability to dream.
Opposing the peacefulness they provide the nightmare.
But no nightmare is as gruesome or horrific as the constant reminder that,
I am alone,
And I will now know what it's like,
To Die in My Own Arms.
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 3:01 PM UTC
Rain
Gentle kisses , like raindrops I shower her with my affection
The clouds close like window shades and block out the gaze of the sun,
The only light is the glistening in her eyes fueled by the burning desire we share together.
Our lips dipped in raindrops our own special nectar , so savory the taste , we can only devour.
Enveloped in the rain , enveloped in each other, saturated in love,
The rain hypnotic , our vertical blanket as we make love with our mouths, stuck to one another,bodies being massaged by those liquid sheets ,unable to harness the passionate heat that nearing the critical mass of desire,the waiting explosion, that is undoubtably immanent
the catalyst , cocooned in the showers , locked in an embrace joined in our kiss , lost in the moment, we " make out " in the rain !
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
Street lights shone down on the curvy silhouette of a black corvette. The reflection of the road side glistens off of the flawless Chrome coat of the vehicle. The engine roars at the slightest touch of the gas petal as my father turns to me from across the table.
"It sounds amazing doesn't it."
I nod my head in agreement as another beauty of a vehicle passes by us. A porche convertable glides smoothly across the pavement with a purr slightly different than the corvette that had passed before hand.
"I like that one better though, don't you?"
I shrug my shoulders. The cars were undoubtably impressive and incredibly expensive. They were beautifully tailored without flaw, but for some reason I felt nothing toward them.
A strange smile spread across my face and my father looked at me confused.
"Why are you smiling?"
I looked down at my hands and thought for a moment to myself, not allowing much to slip out as I thought of one specific car that I really loved.
"I don't know...I like the sound of trucks better"
I say looking down at my hands, remembering.
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 2:45 AM UTC
sometimes, the body suffers.
and the once warm and undoubtably
skin caressing,
hand held goosebumps cover the surface
of porcelain skin.
but, much like a clock and its gears,
if one piece is missing,
the heart cannot work.
and if the heart cannot work,
sometimes the body suffers.
cold for no reason other than the
pocket of regret.
but,
fortunently, the amazing thing
about the human body
is that
it heals itself, painfully, slowly through time.
these times are forbearing but
sometimes, the body has to suffer.
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 9:11 PM UTC