"unfamiliarity" poems
I fear thyself
I fear attraction
I fear unfamiliarity
I fear attention
I fear incidence
I fear conversation
I fear interaction
I fear answers
I fear questions
I fear to tell my story
I fear to hear yours
I fear compliance
I fear conflict
I fear benevolence
I fear mutuality
I fear victimisation
I fear change
I fear to love
I fear to hate
I fear significance
I fear insignificance
I fear the lies we tell
I fear the truths we hide
I fear imprisonment
I fear freedom
I fear hope
I fear despair
I fear old age
I fear children
I fear intelligence
I fear ignorance
I fear to take
I fear to give
I fear to borrow
I fear to loan
I fear to exchange
I fear to teach
I fear to learn
I fear to laugh
I fear to cry
I fear to be
I fear not to be
I fear to be afraid
I fear to be brave
I fear to die
I fear to live
I fear discomfort
I fear responsibility
I fear to gain
I fear to lose
I fear victory
I fear defeat
I fear antrophy
I fear hypertrophy
I fear inertia
I fear activity
I fear obedience
I fear disobedience
I fear justice
I fear injustice
I fear totality
I fear poverty
I fear embarrassment
I fear addiction
I fear declamation
I fear guilt
I fear pride
I fear delusion
I fear unfulfillment
I fear my apathy
I fear to be wakeful
I fear to be tired
I fear my capabilities
I fear my incapabilities
I fear my dreams
I fear my nightmares
I fear women
I fear men
I fear being disabled
I fear misinterpretation
I fear misrepresentation
I fear altruism
I fear limitation
I fear to endear
I fear to inspire
I fear to forget
I fear to remember
I fear self doubt
I fear discrimination
I fear starvation
I fear migration
I fear fragility
I fear formality
I fear banality
I fear enticement
I fear cruelty
I fear judgement
I fear to embrace
I endure what I fear
I endure because I must
I endure myself because I fear
Endure thyself
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 6:37 AM UTC
it's been a circus blur
a whirlwind of uncertainty
smothers me with unfamiliarity
vintage friends have become foreign territory
been burning incense for some clarity
just hoping to find a little prosperity
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
Treading carefully
Moving with caution and unfamiliarity
Yet moving so in sync
The dance of mistrust.
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 6:26 PM UTC
Your sun shining on my face through the tinted windows of restraint. Walls broken down though drop kicks and hammer hits. Crumbling to the ground with an earth shattering I love you.
Arms open take me home to somewhere unknown. To the distant unfamiliarity that I call comfort. Trust fall, head slamming smitten. Dazed as a tacky cartoon character. Blistering wind of happiness content.
To where I will go as the heart I carry. As a rock in my chest waiting to be moved by the storm of absolute ness. Walking through a curtain of shivers. Drop me to my knees as I fall forward. Catch me with your strong will and acceptance.
Be able to take this to a different dimension. Somewhere far away from what it once was. It being the thing that is not clear. The pure feeling of electricity in your touch of eel shock. Breathless and abandoned in pure form. Leave me elated again and I promise. I promise.... Ill show you
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 11:03 PM UTC
Puzzle pieces laid out flat,
Why don't they fit like the
Dried up canals on our palms
Used to fit?
Maybe the persistent mist has
Given up -
Decided to land
On the Sunflowers
Instead.
The only Puzzle I touched,
Hard plastic between
Long fingers.
Cold, Complicated, Confused.
Shock my brainwaves into
Reality -
With the warmth of
Unfamiliarity.
Trace the blades of my shoulders
With your electric paintbrushes,
Creating a masterpiece in me
That is craving
To come to life.
Show me where the pieces
Spoon and weave together
In the perfect harmony
Of our voices.
Finally.
Complete.
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 12:58 PM UTC
Writing poems amid the potted geraniums
and diving sparrows, their nest
above me in the rafters.
The oak tree just beyond is lush
in the slanted summer light,
and I feel a hush fall through me,
a deep, green, pooling quiet
I’ve never known before.
It is the unfamiliarity of the house,
I imagine, this place along with
the late-August heat that lulls me
to sleep like a cat in a patch of sun.
Every wall has been hand-painted,
white-washed, scrubbed-clean.
I know every imperfection intimately.
There is peace to be found
in making the old new again.
Work is required
to call someplace home.
Each evening, as the coolness of the oak
seeps into the patio,
I write poems, exhausted, processing
the beauty we have found and created here.
The sparrows sing their advice to us:
Breathe deeply and rest now.
Joy is where we look and find it.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 10:59 AM UTC
Oh, of that scarlet succulence!
where the limits of unfamiliarity
succumb to the aloof setting
of one room containing two souls!
Oh, of that scarlet succulence!
As dulcet lips and trembling hands
dance across a field of such
unblemished skin and pouncing fragrance!
Oh, of that scarlet succulence!
Where your body doesn't contain you alone,
and mind doesn't contain me alone,
but each of us dissipates into the other!
Oh, of that scarlet succulence!
Where joy is no longer a word,
but the sound of a pant lost between
clenches of your hand and body!
Dec 17, 2011
Dec 17, 2011 at 7:12 PM UTC
Can we talk?
I'm new to town
and I'm certain that you and I
have not yet met.
Are you a stranger too?
It's rather soon to say
but I caught a beacon in your eyes
(or maybe hoped I did) -
wanting down those
Frosted walls of unfamiliarity.
Who knows what tales
we soon may say
of overlapping circles
of shared community -
of parallel victory and loss.
It's so soon to say,
but for now, accept this hand
as a token of mutual membership
in Pangaea's beneficent sanctuary.
Can we talk?
© 2016 by Robert Charles Howard
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 1:59 PM UTC
supposedly,
“love is”
it was supposed to be
an arrow through my chest.
instead it’s
an asteroid destroying a planet,
merciless,
demolishing all foundations.
i’m sick of it.
“pining for attention,”
wishing for
invisibility.
i don’t want your attention.
i won’t look at you,
so don’t look at me.
i’m sick of it.
“feverish faces,”
you talk to me
and i’m burning.
liquid fire pumps
through my veins,
and it’s unbearable.
i’m sick of it.
“and drumming hearts.”
screaming,
racing pulse,
left breathless,
drowning in a salty ocean,
lungs filling with liquid.
i’m sick of it.
this world was
fine.
boxed in a bedroom,
listening to stories
of other people,
but you’ve brought
unfamiliarity into this
dull world of mine.
the sun was never yellow,
the trees were never green,
pink was never a feeling.
this world was
grey,
black,
and white.
put everything
back to normal.
because i’m sick
of being
lovesick.
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 5:59 PM UTC
Its 1am and Im searching for you in the bottom of every bottle.
He's asking me about my poetry but how am I supposed to tell him that my poems are for you and I wont stop writing until Im tangled in your bed sheets for the rest of my life?
He is sweet and polite but he doesnt wrap his hands around my neck and the way you do.
There's something so tragically beautiful in the honesty slipping from my finger tips, because while he's tracing my spine I am consumed with the taste of your skin on my lips and the feeling of your hands against my hip bones.
Its 1am and im wondering if you're searching for me in the unfamiliarity of others, hoping you might smell my scent on her collarbones or feel my skin under her dress.
Out of all the boys ive kissed, you were my favourite by the way you looked me in the eyes with those hands clasped around my neck, no fear of squeezing too hard.
Its 1am and he's holding my hand but you're strangling my heart and these words are seeping out of my skin. No one makes me bleed like you
only you, always
you
alanna
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 2:33 AM UTC
I dreamt that I'd awoken in my house
But all was not the same, was not as it should
be
There was a strangeness to things, an
unfamiliarity
Myself too, I felt different, felt very small like
a little child (like I'd been shrunk somehow),
Felt very vulnerable and exposed, without
support, all alone
As I stood there in the hall, the shadows
falling about me
I could see that it was still dark outside
It was very quiet and there was this big full
moon shining,
Down by the road, at my gate, I could see that
there was a car or van parked
As I watched, suddenly I heard the sound of doors opening and then being slammed shut
Then I saw these two dark figures emerging, proceeding up the driveway toward my
house
A terrible fear gripped me, I felt a great
danger approaching
These two men, these shadowy figures
They meant no good, of that I was sure
They were unwanted, coming at this crazy
hour,
Standing there in the shadows, all I knew
was they mustn't see me
If they saw me I knew I was lost,
It was then that I noticed the inside door, it
wasn't locked
So I got down and on all fours started to crawl across the floor (so I wouldn't be seen)
But it was hard, so hard, my limbs they were
so slow, so heavy
They would hardly obey me... I could hardly
drag
What was wrong... what was wrong with
me!!! I thought,
Through sheer force of will I finally made it
And reaching my hand up I turned the ****
that would lock the door
I heaved a sigh of relief and lay back against
the now locked door
It was only then that I noticed another
bedroom door was ajar
If they stood outside the bedroom window
they'd be able to see a bit into the hall
But I realized, it was too late... too late now
They'd probably be at the window by now
And they'd be bound to see me trying to close
the door
They'd be standing there right now with their
cold sharp impassive faces
Dripping cruelty and menace
Staring in, souless like mannequins
Their icy looks that'd freeze your soul
Like a Medusa turn you to stone.
So I could only sit there listening...listening
with my back to the inside door
Afraid almost to breathe
Just listening for the next sound
The next thing to happen.
Oct 27, 2022
Oct 27, 2022 at 6:26 PM UTC
This isn't easy.
Feeling isn't something familiar to me, yet I'm standing in the center of a broken dam.
Water rushing over me and flipping me from side to side.
I'm suffocating with a grin on my face.
Only so you don't ask if I ever learned to swim.
Of course I have.
No. No, I've never even let the tide kiss my toes.
I breathe in to let the air in my lungs be replaced with this unfamiliarity.
But I'll be ok.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 1:47 AM UTC
That familiar feeling of depression,
led me on,
drooling
with my mouth open, nostrils wide
taking air in from hot, open windows;
driving at 20 mph in a 15 zone
carefully avoiding the road bumps.
The rear view mirror shows me,
a familiar stranger in dark, Ray-ban shades
She follows me,
a life of condescension
yet we love it
as long as we maintain the pool
built with utmost care.
Her hidden eyes give me comfort
I wish she was my wife
and the comfort in her hidden eyes
was comfort
in my cramped up car and my cramped up loft
from this cramped up life.
(There's a weird thing about unfamiliarity)
There are other things
like Ana's bookshelf in an upscale house in Buenos Aires,
those yellow tees specially designed to remember old pals,
or getting high in the Sierra Nevadas
with someone paid to be like you.
There's too much **** down that road,
the one I never took,
women became girls waiting in puffy waterproofs
coffee gets old
there's the cost of oil change every 300 miles
I don't drive that much anymore.
We have widows, young widows
sometimes with young babies, barely born
in fact, we were all young sometime
you, I, brides, the war on terror
that boy from Ethiopia,
things were simpler without automobiles
and rear view mirrors.
Jun 26, 2012
Jun 26, 2012 at 10:47 PM UTC
My greatest condolences to the woman who loves me.
My body fears your love of me and constantly repeats the mantra of you leaving but you seem to stand even closer when I break. You tell me every time you aren't going anywhere but the pure unfamiliarity is because you, are the single thing I have ever loved, and never hated.
My greatest condolences, because I'm hard to love.
Your hands graze the body that I live in that I refuse to own. I imagine them painting my soul, covering the black holes with the colors of fall. You tell me you love every inch and I wonder about the centimeters. I take your kiss like a pill used to subside the symptoms of his neglect.
My greatest condolences, because I never believe you at first.
People are not medicine but your face helps me sleep more than ambien ever did and no, your are not going to cure me but I will survive. I do not need a cure, I need management. I take you every night before bed and wake up thinking about your arms caressing my side, yes, I said MY side. I'll admit that this body is my own as long as you're touching it, as long as your hands are soft on my skin.
My greatest condolences because you are the prescription that cannot skip
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
there are a lot of things in life
that I am not familiar with
a lot of people I do not know
and a lot of places ive never seen.
unfortunately ive seen the open road
and the highway to heartbreak.
discussed the fatal dues
and the darkened reality of life.
ive seen the devil himself
telling me to betray
and helping me hurt.
im used to the underground
and the unheard of stories
that ive lived through.
unfamiliarity has made normality a scarcity
but I am no longer scared
of what I don't know.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 2:07 AM UTC
Those lies you spun like a spiders web
Took place, built homes,
Inside my head.
And I didn't try to relocate
Because all I could do was appreciate
That someone finally cared.
And yes I was scared,
Of the danger, of living with a stranger
The inconsistencies, the mysteries
The roller coaster that was you and me.
But I stood my ground,
Too thankful,
To finally have someone around.
Those lies they weaved,
There way into the darkest corners of my mind
And in desperation I gave up trying to find myself.
Still I remained a squatter
In the squalor, the mess
New levels of doubt and distress arrived
But I pushed them aside
I waited for them to subside
As I sat, in tears, screamed and cried
And I confided in you, trusted in you
A sea of unfamiliarity,
Swimming in a river,
That was murky,
Searching for clarity
In a place
Where nothing was sign posted,
No sense of direction
Desperate for any form of connection.
Feet rooted,
I made no attempt to escape
As your cape began to drown me.
You chipped away
Day by day
My foundations
And I so badly wanted it to be okay
Because I could finally say
I had someone.
Someone that said they cared
Despite the bruises I bared.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 6:29 AM UTC
I promise.
A pinkie swear of sorts that clasps on my lungs
and makes my breath grow heavy.
You sigh.
Fingers becoming fluid as they trickle around my waist
and make promises about a nonexistent forever.
We're stupid.
So ignorant we can barely comprehend the word,
but than again no words make sense.
Eyes close.
Cartwheeling farther away from unfamiliarity
and approaching the inevitable detachment.
It's coming.
Denial is a cruel parasite that builds comfort
when future distance grows with each heartbeat.
But I promise.
With a failing prayer that pinkies cannot be broken
and that hearts and promises are invincible as well.
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 4:27 PM UTC
From the right and left,
my phobia attacks me.
Smells of unfamiliarity
and rain in my boots
climb the peaks of my
grand smelling utensil.
I wonder if the woman
sitting next to me has
noticed the smell of my
feet I washed so hastily,
or the body that my soap
didn't meet, or the weak
cologne wrapped around
my neck.
Quite possibly, she can't
smell a thing; her nose
may be too stopped up;
perhaps it isn't listening.
In reality, my senses blind me.
Alone, I cannot smell the
wonderful and horrid odors
of my body. She stands up
and leaves; I let my mind digress;
however, I am met with the fact
that whoever sits next will
make me face the same
sub-conscious test.
Jun 17, 2011
Jun 17, 2011 at 4:05 PM UTC
I want to be captured just as I am right now
My worries and trials show in my face where before there was only the sweet depth of young hope
The path I have to walk, with its forks marked Mother and Therapist and Citizen of the World loom before me, their pebbly grounds flat
If you look carefully, you see their convergence in the two furrows above my eyebrows
Where is the sepia portrait of me? Everyone has one
That is how I know my mother’s unfamiliarity with married life
It was written in the way she stood next to my father in their honeymoon photo, a bride not yet used to her own body
That is how I know my great-uncle enjoyed bedding his shrill wife
The lines of their bodies compliant in the picnic photo.
Whoever took those photos knew what they were capturing; the intent was there to solidify that moment, in bitterness, in wondernment, as evidence
It was proof they knew the subjects, the characters whose stories bubbled beneath veneers.
Who’s going to take my picture?
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 9:35 PM UTC
...
shame,
i've forgotten how
my words used to unfurl
like a folded piece of origami
how
it felt to write
like my blood was filled
with nothing but metaphors and ink
how
my words used to fit
with each other
utterly perfect together
all i see now,
are jumbled letters
looking too foreign and alien
in my eyes; unfamiliarity
what used to be
burning passion and life
in every piece now screams;
u b i q u i t y
distinctiveness,
g o n e
emotion,
g o n e
the story in a work done,
the feeling that emanated then,
the desire that kept it going,
g o n e
May 1, 2020
May 1, 2020 at 12:47 PM UTC
And she said:
“ I have been here before
Swimming along your rocky shores.
And I have felt your waves echo along my ribs
and beat along my heart.”
I have
seen you in sandy planes like Mars.
(You) have transported me to a world I feel but can’t remember.
I have
wandered here along these rows of pines.
They turn their faces to me like ghosts I’ve spoken to
but remain nameless with unfamiliarity.
But I have felt these tremors once before.
walking along your rocky shores.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 2:06 PM UTC
***** to the percussion of sound.
The harshness devastates all the people around,
That’s what our embodiment occurrences bring.
Violence seduces,
Into the predilection of wounding,
the populace **** your ******* faith.
Be a ******* human!
I am!
We all learn,
Some faster than others,
To belong to,
Like minds.
I tiptoe through the agoraphobic xenophobe,
That is the amoeba of darkness,
That soul eats you called government and falsity.
All things you see are redundancies.
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 1:53 PM UTC
We have a brownstone townhouse kind of love
The kind that we can cover with the murals of our madness
With the paint of our perfection
That's built on the floorboards of our expectations
The number always changes but the people never seem to
I would like our love
To not be measures in square feet,
But with the creeping doors and narrow staircases.
The closets stopped hiding the things we asked them to
And my skeletons lay sprawled
All hip bones
Vertebrae
and rib cages
What has become of me?
I asked myself
and your look said unfamiliarity
and an animosity
Which I never thought possible.
Your smile spelt out greed
And your vocal chords never articulates the syllables I wanted them to.
You used me.
An I fell for it.
Is love just muscle memory?
Are we all just reacting the same way we did the first time?
Jul 21, 2011
Jul 21, 2011 at 5:49 AM UTC
summers seduction returns
with burning rays of light.
I find my resonance with night
has been reawakened as I can
roam the streets without the tease of winters chill.
my bike and I have had somewhat of a falling out
yet I feel the urge to grip the bars
and pedal until my breath beats
me for the lack of it, and my legs
turn to jelly from the unfamiliarity.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 5:34 AM UTC
Lifting her flat face to the midnight sun,
thin legs pattering across
paper plains plagued with indecipherable symbols
like figures etched into the sand.
Nearly falling off the edge of land,
she clings with her feet,
continuing her journey along,
going under a big black arch,
like entering a sacred place,
only this place looks like the one before,
and the one to come,
as she sees rows upon rows of black arches.
She is reminded of her home,
a land full of tall blades of grass,
where reside her brothers and sisters,
and all in her community,
full of life, unlike this lonely place.
Fearful of becoming lost,
she unfolds her wings,
and with her third set of limbs,
leaps and takes off.
But it is too late.
None of these lands are familiar
and there is no green in sight.
All that remains is darkness,
and unfamiliarity.
She is forever lost,
and is doomed to die alone.
Jun 28, 2012
Jun 28, 2012 at 12:40 AM UTC