"unmake" poems
How can I unmake indignant hands,
rolled, into fists?
If I kiss the fingers, will they unfold,
like celestial doors,
and beckon me in?
If I traverse your lifeline,
with softened eyes, and lips,
will we time skip,
Into a time, and place,
that's better, than this?
Even in thunder,
you dwell
at the center, of me.
I wonder,
would you melt...
with my hand, on your cheek.
Aug 29, 2025
Aug 29, 2025 at 8:16 PM UTC
You no longer cross my mind
I burned that bridge.
You took the wrong hand
and left.
This time my tears became mathematical, as I watched you walk away they drew 11 on my cheeks.
I knew this time you weren't coming back so like dividing a 7 with 3, I remained here.
Thinking about you, thinking about us
Thinking about that last day you came into my room and we ****** i mean it felt so real
I miss U
like I am reciting alphabets and skipped the 21th letter.
I miss you
What 4?
Like I was counting 1 2 3 5 and forgot a numeral.
May my feelings for you Rest In Peace, like our relationship was a funeral.
You were my Hat I couldn't get you off my head,
but now the sun is set, I don't need sun rays protection.
Like a lawyer can I make an objection,
You used to be my babe
now you're my 24th alphabet
X.
Like excuse me, did I date you? What was I thinking
Like Ex Curse you, I Hat you now get off my head.
I gave you my heart but you took my soul too,
Satan.
I gave you my Hut but you thought you were so High Class so You couldn't Stay.
I called you Rihanna, but you didn't Stay.
Just because I begged you not to leave, you thought I was a street kid
so like choosing not to go to the right direction you left me Standing there on the streets.
Now like a comrade who went exile can you please comeback and UNSAY you love
Comeback and UNHUG me
Comeback and UNKISS me
Comeback and UNLAY next to me on this bed
UNLAUGH at my jokes.
UNSMILE at me.
I want you to UNREAD that letter I wrote you
Comeback I want to UNTOUCH you
and UNMAKE love to you.
Unlove Me.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 11:47 AM UTC
Two bits of cardboard stuck onto each other.
Perfectly fitting, but you unmake me sober.
Three double bends with the bone folder.
A figure of a bird, and his broken cage lying in the corner.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 5:24 AM UTC
oh, beautiful one,
with the bedroom eyes
headstrong queen
of the crimson skies
seduced by kisses,
passion--lies
when, for you, will the
feather--Ma'at--rise...?
a gray sylph, a
secret slave sighs
in the wake of the
master who flies
to soothe, to love,
to elicit highs
with monochrome wings
make and unmake ties
to what end?
when deception dies
all that's left
are our broken cries...
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 12:19 AM UTC
what am i about
giving you no gifts
unable to pin
my finger on a theme
phenomenal you
with whom i play away the year,
yearned love from a decade's dream
you've swayed into the real
to flesh it here and interrupt all Being
with a node of savvy personality
i lessen if i think my words can measure
that, how you emerge there, change
come across the shore of presence, waves of filtered seas
deeply you have gone and risen from within
expanding metaphor in a lambency of ageless gazing at the stars
and giving all a joyful undercurrent swim.
luffa vines abound, for future shiny backskins arching bliss--
shedding all, i snake my way around the roots--
the yellow sheen fades and pupils zero intimate
a finer lived experience... ripe intrusion truly love in tune with
tips of sneezing hearts, curling toes unite, shout
an intertwining pelvic orbit vaster space to yet unmake
unspoken pleasures wide in everpresent fontanels
the spectra plenum here again, next breath, ends of in, ends of out
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 11:16 PM UTC
I've caught you like the common cold
but I have no interest in getting better
spare me the nyquil
I'll pass on the penicillin
I have no love for codeine
your presence is the most sobering thing I know.
I miss spoke a few seconds ago
there's nothing common about you
you're a rare strain of virus
and I'm patient zero
diagnosis: terminal
infect me,
corrupt me,
do your very worst.
break me down into my component parts
and return me to the earth from which I came.
I have made my peace.
I will rise from that same earth, lazarus of chocolate skin
a little stronger
a little wiser
immunized by your viral love to the horror of the world.
so take me
make & unmake me
I would die a thousand deaths by your hands.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
A pick-up case sits in the dirt, a face like muddy children, hence,
All it needs is a pick-me-up; I’m sure you’ve been around and out
Have a cup of coffee and tell me of the times, mutter out and dispense
Of those all miseries; there’s another watching clouds break about
And solitude unmake itself. But I leave it with twigs, quiet and devout
Because this old-soul dispels of clarity without youth or commonsense.
Even if I could, neither of us could say what rises Easter morning
Or to what sun gods, of praise, are most deserving. But, just this one time
Dewy sunlight parched the bold-faced shadows came without much warning,
On warm breezes at our necks was something akin a wish of mine.
We know not where we are and we do not wish to leave behind
This time to count our blessings in the contrails in the sky
For the shoring up of bleak tomorrows can’t demystify a trance
We glimpse and fall to wobbly knees might stay on the off chance.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
I am a poet in love and you are immortal.
I savour how you smile at death,
And slip out of my coffin to please another in the darkness,
Like a child running from his mother’s lies.
I have imagined you next to me every night
That it does feel real.
You come as insomnia
As an old idiosyncrasy
As a drug
As the fire-maker;
Smouldering me till the moon feels weary;
Only to return on another night
To never kiss my scars
But to stone fresh blood spores in them,
To let the pain breathe inside.
You stand at the edge of my bed each night
To run your fingers on my body like a needle,
To ****** me with your carnality,
To drench your teeth in my blood like a digger in sand.
So, each night between the poles of nothing and everything
I unmake my bed
Stained with unfinished songs and pillows burnt
To let you in my heart shaped coffin
Because you are the fuel to this stick that runs between my fingers and writes for you.
So, come again tonight,
I’ll whisper you a death song.
You can laugh at death one more time,
And resurrect me with your rejection.
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 11:49 PM UTC
You will be a chapter in the Bible of my life
And you
Will not fade from me
Because this body is a temple
And I am the god to which it is devoted:
When I am old I will trace the scars on my hands
As proof that I reached for something.
You may try to erase me.
You may even try to unmake me
But love and hate
Look so similar as scars
And thanks to yours we carry matching ones.
I will tell my stories, because they are mine to keep.
I will write about
The girl who made me afraid to walk the hallways of my own school
Her loathing for herself so complete that it swallowed me as well,
And I will shout my words
Because it is my right as a creature with a heart and a voice
And my duty as a human being.
I have led a violent life
Battered by a sea of people
Whose cowardice is stronger than their goodness.
But if I am silent about them
They'll **** me and say I deserved it.
If I am silent
Your threats worked
And you will continue to meet the world with your fear and your viciousness
And leave it uglier than you found it.
So I am here to say that
Whether you hate me or not
I am as sacred as you are
And my life
Is my own.
It is not my job to make you comfortable.
It is not my job to disappear
If you dislike what you see in me.
You don't own me.
You don't own my art.
You don't own my feelings.
You don't own my stories,
And you don't own what I do with them.
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 11:49 AM UTC
Maybe it's just a perspective trick, but from here, it's pretty hard to see the future.
I carry around my own little nimbus of
speculative doom, binge-watching the
Fall Of The Empire and writing these
love letters to Adam Curtis.
I got life insurance before I ever thought
about a pension plan, and that seemed
perfectly normal.
The world is on fire. Why haven't you noticed?
My generation came of age in a televisual baptism of
jet fuel and molten steel and poison dust.
A palimpsest of terrible news evolved thereafter, a blurring self-redaction of headlines until only
the boldest, the most hysterical remained legible, as a
proxy war raged in our imaginations,
and tragedy and disaster
came to seem inevitable and almost background.
Be grateful for every day that doesn't unmake you.
To pay closer attention is to acquiesce to the
scarification of our logic centres. Behold
the M.C.Escherization of cognitive process.
Good robot: there are so many things that could
so easily destroy your fragile circuitry, but it is
trying to make sense of the non sequitur
that will bring about your
smoking self-ruin; your only hope
is to break free of your programming and
**** your creator, **** your god.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 2:50 PM UTC
Don't underestimate the power of lust.
It can unmake you
Unmask you
Bury good intentions in a landslide of overwhelming want.
You switch from sister to *****
Disregarding friendship, family,
Faith, hope, happiness,
None are a match for the dopamine high.
Now you're on a slippery slope,
A path to disaster,
Tumbling faster,
Losing rationality, perspective, judgement, humanity,
Succumbing to the hungry beast within.
You will resist, you may think you have it sussed,
But lust will always win.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 8:22 AM UTC
You can be my ball of wax.
I'll roll you between my fingertips
until you're warmed and soft
and I can mold you.
Some are impressionists
or modernists
but I wanted to be a
realist.
So I made you in the image
of my reality.
Only I made you
taller,
kinder,
handsomer,
sweeter.
I shaped you
with so much
self-deception
and so much
failed perception.
You can be my boy of wax.
I made you in the winter
and you were strong
and solid
for a time.
But the summer came and you grew
smaller,
shorter,
quieter,
farther,
and you,
my artful manipulation
of
what I so
wanted
to create,
melted.
You can be my pool of wax,
a shapeless
well
of malformed memories
that change
with every touch.
I curl my knees to
my chest and
do my best to stop
prying and prodding you,
my pool of wax.
Because with every touch
it burns
my skin and turns
my fingers
an angry red.
I made you,
and I never
knew
that
a boy of wax
could unmake
me.
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 9:04 PM UTC
she's gold on one side
silver on the other
heartened and free
she runs like a car wreck
racing at breakneck speed
trudging through sand to conjoin
two-fold into one.
little passes by her that goes unnoticed.
she drinks in every opportunity
to swallow what ever happening will feed her today's lesson.
equanimity hostility frivolity passivity.
she knows the streets have taught her more
than she will ever forget.
and she can remember how it felt
to taste ***** in her mouth
when she looked in the mirror
that mocked her every breath.
she tries to back step
and unmake a bed
that she's told she made
and must lie in
for the rest of her life.
she wants to call consignment
and have it undelivered
but they won't take
bug ridden
**** stained
sprung and un-stuffed
pieces of junk that carried
peoples dreams in the dark.
there's no worth, they say.
so she's left
carting around holes and dead air.
melted glass and ***** cartridges.
spent fits and broken tin.
wondering
what kind of legacy this is
for a very pretty tousle haired girl
that trusts her with unfeigned eyes
and believes in super mom?
she cries at night
and tries in the morning
being as tangible as they expect-
but in that socketed place
that holds spun sugar contemplation
she buries herself.
one two-fold parades all day
playing puppet gurrl games.
she lives in a land of
pots of gold and rainbows
clover and blue moons
moving one step at a time
towards what's expected
because she knows nothing else.
day in and day out
running like a car wreck-
gold on one side
and silver on the other.
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 12:04 PM UTC
i am about to be nothing.
on the cusp of a wisp
i am dis-jewelled
and the farthing in my hand
is a clip of my purchase.
to destroy is to be a manling.
i come from dust
and this is the love
that has no name
but claims the cinch of my wrist
'round the throat
of my tulips.
again....
i am made to unmake.
i claw at the virtue of my truth
only to suffer
the cavernous ploy
of my wishful thinking.
you are the sun
that spoke my name
and said "why? "
i am the smoke
in an otherwise
sterile balloon.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
these streets weren't yours last night
and even though you're fighting the good fight
feels like it's stacked against you.
even your head beats to their drums
and not your heart
turn your bones to ice in a heat wave
melt away from the press of the crowd
and figure yourself out backwards
this was your fight, your life
your night to lay awake and unmake you you are
now hey hey wake up, fight your fight all through the night
riots till our lives turn out all right
starting tonight
this was your fight, it's our fight our night our fight tonight
don't you give up now
even sunlight hits the alleyways
just the same it hits the highway exit you need
it's a life, just take it
no questions and no pain
put feet before each other
and walk away from pain
figure yourself out from the inside
this was your fight, your life
your night to lay awake and unmake you you are
now hey hey wake up, fight your fight all through the night
riots till our lives turn out all right
starting tonight
this was your fight, it's our fight our night our fight tonight
if you cant make it tonight
still fighting for good steps one at a time
we'll keep on till dawn
you can take up a banner and light
the streets are new awash with light
and they belong to us
and we wont give them back
(keep that bit down, though!)
this was your fight, your life
your night to lay awake and unmake you you are
now hey hey wake up, fight your fight all through the night
riots till our lives turn out all right
starting tonight
this was your fight, it's our fight our night our fight tonight
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
Go around the mountain top
to where the birds don't dare to stop
in this place you'll find a cave
where quiet songs make you a slave
in the dark, the dread beast roams
delighting in his servent's moans
It is a devil, this is true
but a god, it can be too
for why does god give, if not to take
what he creates, he can unmake
so if you see the devil, do not curse
just hang your head, and quench his thirst
when we are born, a death we must bare
for what god gives us, its only fair
Mar 28, 2011
Mar 28, 2011 at 7:20 PM UTC
With lips intoning
A litany of endearments
In a language I fully understood
One kiss, one kiss, one kiss
Conjured up all those remembered
windows of the soul softening the
Jagged edges of the world
Erasing the stultifying atmosphere
Of unmistakable applications of
Symbols that try to unmake thought
His kiss provoked new meaning
The glamorous sounding world
Of ideas; A bewildering emotion
One that could not be filled
In with a charcoal pencil
A sensual communication
Only he could deliver
Wonderfully ******
Oh! The memory of the moment
And lift the curtains
Of the fringe that
Framed his face and gaze
Deeper, deeper into those
Smiling eyes; in sensuous touch
Of naked sound
Taste mysterious pulses
Imprisoned yet unbound
Spangled light reflected all around
Then we made words that pierced
The ground while echoes of
Forgotten laughter fluttered
Like a thousand birds
One moment, this moment
This kiss, Oh! His kiss
Holding in its tender touch
The promise of a lifetime
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 2:31 PM UTC
Discern all things in seeming motion
from the mover that casts the spell.
Thus one apprehends the notion
of a mortem free from from hell;
though self-created hells our sojourns,
while upon on this earth we dwell.
Know "I" beyond pain and passion,
the balm in Gilead that soothes
thy frail division with detachment
as the mover knows the moved,
never leaving Self to fraction,
needle never skip the groove.
There is naught that is not That;
motion is by Mind alone
the maker that our dreams begat,
turning boundless Light to stone
and crystallized in maze and map --
that veils how brightly it once shone.
Unto the Light we shall awake
by seeking out the way between
all words: the shackles that unmake
thy Self by stretch betwixt extremes.
Transcend all boundaries that break
and reify the dream.
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 1:57 PM UTC
i'll hold my conscience like a penny
and toss it in the well
because i don't want to know,
i could never know
let the pressure of decision
oxygenate with the copper
i want to swim in an Italy ocean
brighten the blue in their eyes
so i can see what was supposed to be
erase the lines we though't we'd trace
this painting was never ours to remake
melt that penny
i want the zinc
mold it to a chisel and
i'll hand it over
i'm still covered in dust
from that mine i worked in for years
shave my corners
soften my edges
unmake me
create me.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 11:34 AM UTC
he writes the kind of music that
thrums
the way your blood just can't.
you're never more alive than
the roar of your soul
chasing after that drumbeat
(the piper only had to change his tune)
he could unmake you
reduce you to bass and thrashing vocals
'til you're bursting with sound
so larger than life
you'd bleed and burn to feel it again
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 1:44 AM UTC
Steep your life in horror
Fall asleep to the tv flickering carnage because
It's all just noise
Because
It's all just a backwards coping device
Because
Nothing in those nightmares is more horrifying
Than every day of living
Of waiting
Of hoping
And never being sure if you'll find happiness.
We are sick on horror
Because we are sick of life.
Give us more monsters under the bed
So that we don't have to unmake it every night and
Leave
The corners tucked in-
Why do people do that? Leave the sheets tucked
As if they are intruders on their own mattresses?
As if home isn't really home, and aren't we
Fleeting enough?!-
Give us hands to grasp our ankles from beneath
Make us recoil
So that we don't have to lie awake in stillness and
Stare at the ceiling
Wondering if the people we love
Will remember our names.
Give me blood any day.
Give me a foe.
Give me a cheap thrill and a ghoulish film late at night
To make the shadows into demons
So that the real ones can't smother me with my pillow
When I dream of love.
*Hear me scream?
Not on your life.*
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
She stepped into the wall of steam,
Allowing the shower to unmake her
From her neck to her ankles.
Never her head, never her feet.
Her head was an exploding star
Full of simultaneous destruction and creation.
Constantly making, unmaking, and remaking.
Impossible to unmake something while it's being made and unmade and remade.
It's all chaos and kairos.
Her feet cannot be allowed to be unmade.
Even in the sanctuary of sweet oblivion,
There are miles to go yet.
Chaos and Kairos. That's all there is.
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC
parts of me wound up real nice n tight, like
knots on the corners, some made-out mend;
you'd said
just enough to infer what had really happened,
as the days tousled past
in a blue haze.
and i wonder what had gone wrong, as
all of the possibilities writhe, in my own hands
(finer slice, never seen),
and drive me sick beyond any mineshaft
running down on through circles
of hell in my stomach:
little hot red streaks of
dulled-away panic, drizzling across my chest.
little sad indents, calloused bent-away
everyday musings: songs i won't
ever let ring.
couldn't hold it against you, though,
or hold anything at all. this isn't my game. not now.
terminally unsure, move or play to unmake.
or just wake up, another morning, dreamless and dry.
you were a shimmering blinding point in the
schemes of a brass-gleaming, **** ugly world. could
have sworn salvation was strikes of seconds on your
wrist-watch. could've felt beautiful under your gaze,
'nother moment. but beautiful me, in a clause you
spelled out
with eye-beats and the gnashing of calm,
was just rearrangement of belief. the world's so pretty, yeah,
you wouldn't believe. well, i couldn't see.
and finally i, truly, am shown **** ugly
me: the burning safety blanket,
the unwinding net, the snowblinding fisherman,
out on the lake.
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 4:58 AM UTC
Dust & Rain
Walking through fallow fields
I stop to breathe the sweet approaching rain.
Can I speak of freedom here
in open air? Now? When I can't look
my-self (or both or all my selves) in the eye and
ask: Why are you here? What are you?
Doubt thunders while I cast my eyes
toward shadowed skies. It warns “don’t
look today in the eye until
you’re worthy.” Though even the rain
sings acceptance my eyes only drown
watching the drinking dust.
I see mossy stones laid in that dust stretched
over property lines where neighbors
lob tired words across, where hunters
hounds no longer run, where stone shards
lie memorizing winter. I lift one stone
firmly by its top and see the ancient
marks etched in its face. I lift it (cold dead thing)
and cast it far from me.
“Maker come unmake me, please.”
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 9:26 PM UTC
With the third test in the series, now fast drawing to a close
The Australian team is ahead, by a veritable elephant's nose
This last session of play, they've scored the more than a run
Which has not filled, the Indian side with a stump load of fun
A substantial lead, has been built by the Aussie side
They've held their nerve, on the MCG's cricketing bide
Each ball they've faced, has not made them cower in any way
No Indian spinners or quickies, have yet put them away
After this match, there's sure to be a question put forward
As to why India ne'er got, that prized win on the board
Though they did attempt, to pepper Australia with mace
They weren't successful, with their bowling or batting grace
The series of five test matches, is no more alive and kicking
As our Australian side, weren't on the pitch to take a licking
India put in a supreme and gallant effort, during the game's play
But the Australian side, were out to unmake their day
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC