"unfocused" poems
In frames as large as rooms that face all ways
And block the ends of streets with giant loaves,
Screen graves with custard, cover slums with praise
Of motor-oil and cuts of salmon, shine
Perpetually these sharply-pictured groves
Of how life should be. High above the gutter
A silver knife sinks into golden butter,
A glass of milk stands in a meadow, and
Well-balanced families, in fine
Midsummer weather, owe their smiles, their cars,
Even their youth, to that small cube each hand
Stretches towards. These, and the deep armchairs
Aligned to cups at bedtime, radiant bars
(Gas or electric), quarter-profile cats
By slippers on warm mats,
Reflect none of the rained-on streets and squares
They dominate outdoors. Rather, they rise
Serenely to proclaim pure crust, pure foam,
Pure coldness to our live imperfect eyes
That stare beyond this world, where nothing's made
As new or washed quite clean, seeking the home
All such inhabit. There, dark raftered pubs
Are filled with white-clothed ones from tennis-clubs,
And the boy puking his heart out in the Gents
Just missed them, as the pensioner paid
A halfpenny more for Granny Graveclothes' Tea
To taste old age, and dying smokers sense
Walking towards them through some dappled park
As if on water that unfocused she
No match lit up, nor drag ever brought near,
Who now stands newly clear,
Smiling, and recognising, and going dark.
18k
you cant defeat me
you wont
Ill cooperate
Ill act scattered
Ill be unfocused
Ill be motivated to motivate this terrible distraction in my mind
The answer is simple
College and AdHd dont mix
they collide
my brain is a dj playing dubstep
24 hours a day
non stop full volume
crank it up
because there is no stoping.
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 1:48 PM UTC
I am told to believe in myself
look past the flaws
imperfections,
because all those things
define the uniqueness
within my body,
my soul
but what I see
when I take that
prolonged, aching glance
into a mirror
as cloudless as a
summer evening
is everything
I am told doesn’t matter
but
how do I ignore veins
crawling up my legs like
the spiders they're named after
or
fat under my skin
that seems to expand so widely
it is impossible for my
eyes not to trip upon it
and
wide hips
unfocused gaze
gaping pores
unshaped lips
rippling marks
etched on my skin
as a form of punishment
for being myself
sloping thighs
feet like
the twin towers
giant
tall
wide
deep
is that what I am?
uncertain
unknown
unloved
but in the end just
“unique”?
human
we’re all just human
but then
why
do I feel
so
mis
understood?
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 1:52 AM UTC
When I am in statistics I cannot focus
because the world around me is ending in my mind
slowly fading into something without meaning
until I cannot breathe and I have to leave
to go cry in the bathroom.
When I am in my statistics class I cannot focus
because there is a boy there who looks like my favorite **** star
I know what his ***** looks like
or might look like
Schrödinger's **** in a box.
I cannot help but stare at him and
picture him in gym shorts and no boxers
or cargo pants and no boxers
or just in boxers
or.
It's an uncomfortable feeling of morbid intrigue that
makes me tap my toes too fast.
I want to know him.
I want to tell him that
I love the way he smiles
and laughs and communicate s
and makes sure everyone is safe and happy.
I can only watch **** that has behind-the-scenes features.
It's comforting to know that
everyone is happy and
everything is consensual and
everyone is having fun.
I get too invested in these people, too attached -
One time I had to give up
and take a moment to breath
because I was just so overwhelmed with pride
Like a parent watching their kid graduate after all their hard work.
And that feeling is not okay.
And seeing that boy in my class is not okay,
Because I feel so proud of all he's accomplished
So when he answers a question right in class all I can think about is
When he ****** a **** on camera for the first time
And the first time he licked whipped cream off another man's *******
And it's very distracting.
When I am in statistics I cannot focus
because I start to worry that I will fail this class
and then I start to worry that I will hate my future
and then I worry about having a future in the first place,
bunching up into an unfocused, panicking, asthmatic mess.
The **** star boy is a distraction.
It's because of him that I'm passing this class.
( and in a way, a stupid, silly way,
it's because of him that I'm alive. )
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 12:27 PM UTC
The drug
The high
The confusion
The craving
The withdrawal
The brain feels overwhelmed
The noise creates chaos in my mind
The silence I seek
The alone time I need
The anxiety kicks in
Struggling to breathe...
Overthinking creates an addiction, to the things that cause mind suppression.
My mind is noisy, with thoughts of occurrences that have happened, and some not.
I try not to depress myself, but mistakenly think too far in the future, then get disappointed because expectations have not been reached.
Busy, distracted, chaotic, and unfocused.
I reach no end to where my mind goes...
A path of little thoughts that creates an explosion and downfall.
I crave the drugs to give my mind a rest.
To give it a sense of peacefulness...
I have failed lifes tests.
Tense, tight, my mind implodes.
Burn my thoughts and bury them in ashed coal.
Cannot sleep
Cannot close my eyes
Always in a state of overthinking...
Like my brain is constantly blinking
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 10:00 AM UTC
Unloved and undesired
Felt like the universe conspired
Unfocused and uninspired
Tell me, will I ever get tired?
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 11:50 AM UTC
The fatigue flows through me
As if it has invaded the marrow of my bones
Leaking out into the flesh
Rendering me paralyzed in an unfocused state
I sleep to live and wish only to end the dulled mind set
It’s crushing to find that shard of thought
Urging me to get up
Do not sleep, it whispers
There is too much to do, the insidious trails of ideas speak
The words taken down seek to undo the restlessness
The blurred vision of the time slipping past in red numbers
Sleep, my body cries
Wait a minute more, my mind calls back
Sleep deprived with burning eyes
A single tear breaks the tie
I cannot go on
Sleep calls me back
Pulling me down to the place I cannot ignore anymore
Sleep, my body whispers
Sleep, my mind sighs
cc111911
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 11:49 PM UTC
a tear drops from her eyes
and it brings no cause
though it quivers with emotion
and the stars do not shine brighter
when polished with her briny tears
but dim their glow and listen
listen!
to her sobbing
but wait
her capillaries will burst!
stop it!
stop it!
its translucence
its opaqueness
the inherent contradictions it produces
and the images it emanates
so while her eyes may open
they are unfocused
and gone
and the click of their judgements is obscene
because her soul has escaped
where has it gone?
she swears she saw it just a moment ago
just a moment
just a moment
just a moment
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 8:29 PM UTC
He was the warrior king.
He was known for being strong.
He was Mogar.
Shallow breaths passed through his lips.
Hot tears rolled down his cheeks.
Arms wrapped tightly around him.
Knees pulled close to his chest.
He tried to hold himself together.
How did he get here?
Unable to laugh or smile.
Unmotivated and unfocused.
Unable to sleep or eat.
An empty shell.
Devoid of all emotion but one:
Shame
He was ashamed.
Ashamed he couldn't push through.
Ashamed he wasn’t strong enough.
Ashamed that he was broken
He was the warrior king.
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 11:40 AM UTC
grey misty haze
why pray for better days?
silver hues
lick moist air
in the beautiful world we share
puddles painted on the floor
revealing your unfocused stare
grey misty haze
tickling noses blue
should be enough
for you
Dec 18, 2020
Dec 18, 2020 at 1:51 PM UTC
+
A bed-sits high and dry,marooned on a sandbank of night.
As radio 4-casts its nets to isolated ships like me that rudderless drift on into the light.
Still dark outside,no sounds,save the distant echoing bark of a hungry fox ----streets away.
Another dawn ripped blackbin bag of a day creeps and ouzes in
Heavy unfocused lids fogged in the steamy smokeyness of tea and a first fag
plenty of time plenty of time.
Time before the world wakes to the morning pips and its flushing, brushing, rushing sounds
A greyness gathers just beyound my pained curtains, as with a silent sigh a roosted blackbird clears its fasted throat.
Then as if by magic I 'm carried, scimming high above and beyound this mooring set in a silvered sea,on a welcomed mantra known to all.
As if a calling pray at day break,following each word in a moment subline
Un angle vole un angle vole.
Rockall - Malin - Hebrides
Humber - Fisher - German bight
Thames - Dover - Wight.
Each single secert understood and noted only by a few as I glide over in paced, pausey surf rolling words
North northeast - 994 - Falling slowly - Low pressure moving away - Gales 8 very poor - Backing 3-4 later - Mainly good - Becoming variable - Syclonic later - Increasing 6-7 mainly west - Swally showers for a time - Fair - Good.
Oh so good, each pure English comforting sounds heard over lapping waves of air.
The bushy wet nosed fox sulks and cowers away from the breaking sun, as the blackbird draws a dewdropped breath though golden nib and tapping gently, call a hidden choir into song just for me.
Reminding me of the things I'd for gotten I care about.
Sharp timed unwelcomed pips flood the ears to prise open sticky eyes from promised dreams and spoon-cuddles warm
As I set forth on wetted pavements, ready to decline into my charted day.
Yet smiling as if blessed and no longer alone
But filled with early morning salty thoughts of strangers
I
have
yet
to
meet
Feb 24, 2011
Feb 24, 2011 at 7:47 AM UTC
If I become unfocused
Because my day's been bad
You bring me back to earth with just a smile
No matter your misfortune
Or how far away I seem
You center me again with a small smile
When misfortune rears it's ugly head
Or the washer's on the blink
You bite your lip, and out comes that **** smile
No matter what your pain is
Or the fact the car won't start
You brush it all away, and then you smile
There's a light inside your eyes
That blazes hotter than a sun
It holds me here, I cannot get away
That light shines even brighter
When I walk into the room
I love you, and that's all I know to say
Your smile holds me hostage
It says it all, but not a word
That smile, shows me just exactly how you feel
It makes my day worth living
Knowing what's waiting at the end
Your smile, makes me know our love is real
It's a standard I cling on to
It's the rock that keeps me still
That smile and the love I know it shows
It's the reason I am living
My rainbow ending treasure
That smile, keeps me strong through out lifes lows
There's a light inside your eyes
That blazes hotter than a sun
It holds me here, I cannot get away
That light shines even brighter
When I walk into the room
I love you, and that's all I know to say
The tree that we both planted
When we started out this life
Makes me smile, when I think of it's tough start
How we planted a small twiglet
And how it grew strong over time
It's our tree, grown from deep inside our heart
I miss you dear so badly
I don't know how I can go on
Your smile, burns so bright inside my brain
It took you oh so quickly
Two quick months and you were gone
So, I smile, knowing you are not in pain
There's a light inside your eyes
That blazes hotter than a sun
It holds me here, I cannot get away
That light shines even brighter
I feel you in this empty room
I still love you, and that's all I know to say
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
Unfocused vision
Blurry images of you
Torment my consience.
Oct 25, 2011
Oct 25, 2011 at 6:37 PM UTC
Oblivion is the pit of this ravine
And I'm holding onto a feeble vine for dear life
You screamed, "Don't let go!"
My hands are losing its grip
Then you toss me a knife
Nowhere is the destination of this path
Still, I'm trying to find the right way
You said, "Don't get lost!"
My vision becomes hazy and unfocused
Then you give me the broken compass of yesterday
Pain is the entity waiting on the other side
I sink my feet deeper onto the floor
You whispered, "Don't leave me alone."
My fingers no longer hold the keys
Then I see you opening the door
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 2:15 AM UTC
They said the fairest of the goddesses
Was the one to give us love,
The one to fetch the maidens
And bring the boys their girls.
What they meant by fair was beautiful,
Not just or right or equitable,
For it hardly seems fair
That she's a goddess,
Enthroned on a mountain with a mirror in her hand
And we're all of us mere mortals,
Hapless humans,
With our ribcages wide open,
With no bone to shield our vulnerable ventricles
And no sense to tell us to cover our chests.
It's no wonder that this otherworldly seduction
Can ****** us
And string us along
And consume us
Until we forget what life was
Before love caught us.
It seems impossible
That these frail, impermanent bodies
Can hold such ethereal infatuation;
It's too strong,
So it ravages us,
Strips away dignity,
Rips away common sense,
And seizes all control.
Our little human selves
Never stood a chance.
Tell me, Aphrodite,
Does it make you laugh to watch us struggle?
From your lofty vantage point,
Do you giggle when the rational become foolish,
When the thinkers become unfocused,
When the innocent become broken?
Does it please your fair reflection
When those devoted mortals go to ungodly lengths
For this love that you inflict,
Until they have nothing left of themselves,
Until they're worn to the very bones
That couldn't protect their unsuspecting hearts?
Do you revel in the irony,
Aphrodite,
When, exhausted and dejected
And downright tortured,
They still worship you?
When they bow
And sacrifice
In gratitude?
When we miserable mortals
Thank you for these feelings that destroy us,
Because for tiny moments
We felt transcendentally good.
Perhaps she'd had better intentions,
That goddess Aphrodite,
Thought that she was filling our open hearts
With something to give them meaning.
Maybe she thought
We'd left our ribcages open on purpose,
That we'd all simply been waiting for her,
Wondering when she'd reach down her power
And give us a love to cling to.
Or,
It could be that she had it right,
That our chests were left gaping
And our hearts were left empty
So that Aphrodite could look away from her mirror,
Smile from the clouds,
And send us someone to make us whole.
Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 6:39 PM UTC
It is a dictionary in ice.
Pages frozen in place,
the words blurry and unreadable.
All cold and slippery.
I cannot grasp the concrete.
It is a blurry photo.
Unfocused, unmotivated,
unknown.
Discarded as soon as it is found.
It is the waking up
with a dull pounding.
A nap that did not refresh
An exhaustion that never ends
I cannot wake up
cannot end this dull ache
cannot focus
cannot grasp
cannot thaw
cannot do not know
Please wake me up
and clear my head.
Adjust the focus; twist it
and snap a clear picture.
Give me something concrete.
Press it to me
and close my fingers around it.
Then wrap around me
and help me hold on
so this does not slip away, too.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC
there was
a time in my life
when i didn't know
that
gin
existed.
at some point
someone put a
gin and tonic
in my hand,
and i said with delight,
"this is so refreshing!"
i bought the
cheapest gin
i could find
until i heard
snoop rapping
about tanqueray
and i thought to myself,
"what the hell is tanqueray?"
come to find out,
it is a delicious
gin, in a classy green
bottle with a red stamp.
how lovely!
things were just getting better!
i love limes, and
in no time,
a lime version of tanqueray,
"rangpur" arrived,
and i discovered
DIET LIME TONIC
life seriously couldn't get any better.
let's look at the mathematical equation, shall we?
gin=refreshing=limes=tanqueray=snoop=all around good times
marvelous. let's fast forward a decade.
gin=tanqueray=tears.
i honestly wish
life was not this
way and i
could go back
to the way
gin used to be.
and here is the
point i'm
trying to get to -
i'm so blah ...
so u n i n t e r e s t e d
so unfocused
that the thought
of going into a store
to get tonic was
too much for me to bear.
seriously.
so.
i'm drinking gin. with ice. and a little straw.
i have limes in my fridge,
and lime juice.
i looked at both of these items,
and could not summon
the strength
to move either
from the fridge to
the counter,
let alone my drink.
the next step on the road
to the river styx
is gin with no ice and a straw.
then just gin in a glass.
then just gin straight out of the ******* bottle.
then i would just eat the beautiful tanqueray glass bottle.
that seems to be the jist of things around
this place (by "this place" i mean earth) in general.
it's entropy. pick one of the definitions -
i'm pretty sure that poetically any of them apply.
personally, i think
heat death
sounds the best.
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 10:07 PM UTC
We drift through the moments
Of silence in our flickering thoughts
Who are we then?
Brief lapses of lost identities
With none of the trappings of personality
Lies the mind tells itself drop and fall away
Folded up memories cleared
To allow the blank shuffling
Faraway stares unfocused on the present
Drifting moments of silence in flickering thoughts
cc111411
Nov 23, 2011
Nov 23, 2011 at 12:07 AM UTC
In one's lifetime, comes a moment or two,
when a sunny day's sky of powder-blue
turns to an utterly gloomy black night
not at all a beautiful twilight
:::just a dark firmament...no homing birds in sight
When in a flurry,
it comes naturally,
to want to sit...on the ground,
on the floor...just somewhere down
with both palms cupping jaws
resting on knees are angled elbows
discontent and stagnation
nag one's imagination
heartbeats
............are drumbeats
glances are fleeting
unfocused:::::escaping
such are vain attempts, to dismiss
avoided thoughts and scenes:::to release
::::and decide...all must eventually cease
yet.........it's never easy to find peace
can't just forget sounds of voices...and sweet laughter
jokes and conversations that came, before and after...
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::
they are tattooed in the mind
::::::::: they are ::::::::::
::: i n d e l i b l e ::::::::::
:::: e s p e c i a l l y ::::
:::on:::moments:::when:::
:::we struggle the most:::
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
::::::::only:::to:::realize::::::
::::::::::::::::::[[[]]]::::::::::::::::
::::::::[[ memories ]]::::::::::
::::are:::a::::[[metal cage]]
::::::::::::: and we :::::::::::::::
::::::::::::::::: are :::::::::::::::::
:::::::[[captured birds]]:::::::
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
it usually takes long:::::::::::
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
::::::to be freed:::::
:::::::::::::::::::::::::;;;;
::::::from being:::::
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
:::::::::::held:::::::::::
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
:::[[ c a p t i v e ]]:::
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
(November 2015)
Sally
Copyright January 13, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 9:56 AM UTC
Poem written waiting outside the club
that my brother and I frequent
together -
scene:
a hundred mouths breathe clouds
into the biting air,
cold of a Friday night
security at the door, screaming
a sea of voices asking
"can you take me in with you? I'm not old enough"
and the growling of boys half drunk
already
my brother tall, pushed against me
Poem written at the back of the club
that my brother and I frequent
together -
and scene:
us, scouring the dancefloor together
us, drinking ***** lemon on the sidelines
us, stretching necks to see if we
know anyone in here,
half-poised to
escape
should we need to
(we don't want to see others)
Poem written standing at the bar
that my brother and I
frequent together -
this scene:
spilled on the dark, chipped wood
euro bills
sticky cocktails
nose blood
and my hand, washed
in the mix
of liquids
it is 2 a.m.
Poem written waiting outside the toilets
that my brother and I
frequent
apart -
now, scene:
him, nowhere to be found
line, endless
girls, loud and crying, laughing
and my foot tapping
nervously
to the bass that makes
the walls vibrate
and shake
Poem written in the parking lot of the club
that my brother and I
just squeezed out of -
last scene:
him, sober, hands on steering wheel
my eyes, unfocused, trained on
the electric blue of his car radio
playing our after-club mix
coming down, silently
no words between us
only deep-bassed beats
and intoxicated breath
our minds as spent
and exhausted
Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 4:54 PM UTC
Evenings were sandwich time
brought in by big Ted
sandwiches cut in triangles
in white and brown
and he laid the plates down
on the center table
and the patients
bored out
of their fragile brains
pounced upon them
and ate ravishingly
as if time
was running out
to eat
but
Yiska nibbled hers
took small bites
her finger tips
holding the brown bread
her white teeth
nibbling gently
Naaman watched her
his sandwich held
but uneaten
smelt
viewed
but held away
from lips
he took in
Yiska's nibbling
the way her fingers
held as if a holy host
not fish paste
and her lips
parted just so
her tongue seen
the white teeth
and her eyes
unfocused
her nightgown
buttoned at the breast
with a missing button
and he wanted
to be that sandwich
in her fingers
wanted her lips
to feel him
her teeth to nibble him
but then
the foreign woman
distracted him
by taking
her sandwich apart
opening it
between fingers
sniffing the contents
******** up her nose
muttering something
in her foreign tongue
throwing it on the plate
and picking up another
don't waste them
a nurse said
ask if you don't see
what you want
the foreign woman
chewed on the sandwich
she'd picked
the nurse removed
the torn open sandwich
Naaman ate
a small portion
viewing Yiska meanwhile
licking her fingers
******* the ends
in and out
and he wished
it he she was doing thus
he looked away
the evening sky
was darkening
through the locked
ward windows
the bright electric lights
above their heads
made mirrors
of the windows
and Naaman saw himself
in his blue dressing gown
sans belt in case
he tried to string
himself again
and he gazed at Yiska
once more nibbling
another sandwich
the same *********
technique
the similar lipping
routine
and the missing button
on her nightgown
revealed a small portion
of flesh viewed
her small *******
pressing the cotton cloth
of the nightgown
and he ate unceremoniously
the last of his bread
watching her fingers
licked again
while outside the window
the sound of fresh rain.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 3:40 AM UTC
The Doctors point and whisper
With crude and handmade tools.
Pinch and cut and decompress
like blood soaked sweating ghouls.
A slash, a snap, a sting
make a finger move.
The swollen eye, it twitches
and the mouth begins to drool.
Still no heartbeat, still no life
in the body, three days dead,
yet there is the softest sentence
uttered by the head;
Slipping slug-like out
from desperate lips in dread.
With unfocused twitching eyes
this is what it said:
"Let this one thing still be sacred;
The shroud between the dead and living.
Let the sleeping dogs now lie,
The Dead we're never meant to sing.
"Don't bring Death to Living lands
Don't take back the hourglass sand.
Leave the idols where they stand.
Leave the blood on bloodstained hands."
The doctor ***** his head:
"Is there movement in the brain?"
Another doctor shakes his own:
"None that can sustain"
Sowing shut his lips they say:
"Disturb us not again".
But a wordless sorrow is intact
in the soul that still remains.
Once again they dig in deeper
to find the glitch that kills.
With their knives and scissors
and noises crude and shrill.
The dead head slowly drops
with eyes wet, wide and still,
that meet the eye of a mocking bird
upon the window sill.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 7:51 AM UTC
Crooked road
Dragging down
Satanic dimensions
Twirling
Spinning
Unfocused camera
Snap shot
Tapping nails
Scraping walls
Harlot in the corner
Creeping out
Freaky ways
Strapped
Tapped
White room
Yellow bed
Bleeding limbs
Chambers
Of horror
Demonic town
Take away
Death around
***
Kills the body
Helas the mind
Treated
Insane
Cured
Refrain
Cuts on hand
Bit a man
NIce jacket
I go
Little house on the prairie
Hell no
Crooked road
Haunted down
Satanic dimensions
Twirling
Demonic town
Creeping out
Freaky ways
White room
Where i stay
Murray
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 12:44 PM UTC
little saporous pretty prisms
dragged through ashen bones
to place your cloying melt
on my shivering paper skin:
your sticky face,
tongue stripping strangling,
char-chipping my caramelized blisters
from the burning maraschino hum.
Bubbling up whiteness
like our eyes unfocused,
hands moving unaware
spread the chapping numbness
over our senses, succumbed.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 6:29 PM UTC