"unnoticeably" poems
the laughing ***** shrieks on
a masculine bellow till dawn
the young girl fades
into the paint
to find a way out, before she faints
the almighty angel
is shot from the sky
she has alined with satin
the unbreakable tie
the blanket sits
crumpled up in a lap
shared with the many
and yet no claps
they all sit staring
at one another
the tension’s high
yet they all are brothers
they pretend to not care
it's what they know
but beneath all that
you feel it show
a tattoo of sarcasm
ripping them open,
from the inside out
so they can't keep quiet
they always shout
no one knows the scars it makes
no one wants to, they'd cry lakes
so the young girl sits
repeated back by the mirrors
she knows a secret,
and yet she fears
that if they knew,
she'd be gone
and still she whispers it
to herself
and tucks it away,
or puts it on the shelf
the single truth in the bag of lies
unnoticeably simple,
the surrounding eyes
it's just the cast away
the rotten apple
she's aflame with the pupils of loathing.
Dec 19, 2011
Dec 19, 2011 at 3:01 AM UTC
feathered shadows
ripple like the water
in the wind
on which they're cast
miniscule
molten metal
droplet beetles
dive beneath
the shimmering water
bathed in
metamorphic waves
of bending light
inobservably tiny legs
quickening
in a graceful fury
sliding through the world
like slow-motion lightning
or a brilliant spark
unnoticeably extricated
from its source
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 11:54 PM UTC
I want to free fall into the Mariana Trench.
I want to watch the world become darker and darker till light is not in the dictionary.
Forms of life will become less distinguishable with every meter.
Motel rooms and apartments litter the crevice's walls-"low" income housing-
Soup kitchens begin to occur less frequently-
Replacing them are drug houses and grimy gas stations with metal bars for windows.
Every creature notices my existence.
They dart their eyes just too much,
And I know they suspect that I came here to sleep. To be at peace with myself again.
To watch them, to hear them, to wander them.
In my mind, seconds melt like ice cream cones in July.
Minutes cut through the silence unnoticeably.
Time slips underneath me as the rug is pulled out from my feet and over my eyes,
And it covers my mind.
I remember nothing of past events,
They told me to leave all behind.
As the day grows darker into nothing but here and now,
My skin turns blue. I am the ocean in this divide of magnetic silence.
I am the fish who struggle to find meaning for themselves.
I am time which does not exist here.
I am the water whose stagnancy sinks me deeper into earth and beings of past eons.
My hair becomes the nutrients, the seaweed and algae that provide for the citizens of this primitive paradise.
My eyes are now seashells which house these forgotten creatures.
My arms stretch out towards surface and harden into coral shoots, but my mind is rooted into sea floor basalt and sand.
I will never leave.
An eel approaches me.
He welcomes me with a warm embrace too far up my body.
Not an under-the-arms hug,
A beating, lively hug around the neck.
It takes my breath away,
And so I cannot help but gasp with excitement,
And I find my peace.
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 8:57 PM UTC
You broke me to fix yourself,
and You left unnoticeably,
just after carrying all the weight
of Your agony on Your shoulder,
just after handing me this burden.
I let You drown yourself in my comfort
but when You found temporary peace,
You left,
You left with all confidence that I would be fine.
But I'm not.
I wont lie to You
I'm unhappy.
I'm emotionally unstable.
and I wish I'd know why I felt adhered
maybe because I was too busy fixing You,
to think about myself.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 10:22 PM UTC
there were things
i had never imagined
i would understand
be; experience
and gape bemusedly at my
unbelieving ambiguous eyes
in the unnoticeably clear
smiling mirror of the bathroom.
things such as
being a creep
the creep whose wandering eye
wanders just a wee bit longer.
A microsecond length of
the not-understood, the suspicious,the dubious
the curious sometimes,
but really mostly nefarious lunatic, perhaps...?
the creep whose teeth clench into a
smile.
the lips parting
but only
Mendaciously...perhaps..?
the creep who peers into me
like a god
scouring my precious little secrets
my hurt points,
my loci of scandalous innocuous things
meant to be inside of me
for my self.
the creep who infringes
on my warm bed
of Safety.
***
********
erectile dysfunction
sneer
******
*****
me
father
mother
weirdity
all the complexes
that make you Feel
like a spider
whose web is shattered with
but an uncaring finger.
power.
Uncaring Callousness
terrifying in it's brutality
intent ,
and things beyond .
the creep peers in.
but i was only trying
to make friends.
a bit too hard , perhaps...?
oh the creeps of the world
i understand thy plight
the fact that you never understand
what you are
doing
but only after it has passed
that the black hole irises
of un-understanding visages
come to you
to inform you
that you have been
a creep, the Creep.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 1:07 AM UTC
quiet, quiet
she is dancing
silent skin moving
under the twisting lights
cracking unnoticeably
quietly, like the morning sun
a leaf falls to the ground
slowly withering on the way
spiraling, turning, falling apart
mixing with her skin
and the gutter starts to fill up
and as it floats down to the sea
no one notices a few vital body parts
sinking into the mud
the light on the walls create visions
she imagines they are places
the gutter passes by so her eyes can see
she forgets where she is
she is a windmill of bones, creaking, breaking, falling
they are trees standing still and tall
soon I will be among fish, she thinks
the wind doesn't bother fish
she is dancing
they are watching and
the lightning
is about to strike
quiet, quiet
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC
We grow in a ragged garden
whose caretaker no longer cares
for himself except to prune back
only the most strangling branches
of his mind's miseries.
Effectively, we are left to
our own wild ways.
In all directions,
time's vine sprawls unnoticeably
slow in its natural haste
to overtake every creature.
We are the berries
strewn along this vine.
Our thin skins stretched and aching
around poisonous pools of bitter juices,
desperate for a touch,
a cause to burst,
a moment in which our existence is fulfilled.
To die in defense of the vine
is why we are here.
Most of us will never do but rot;
stuck to a stem that roots us in
idle uselessness.
It is my brightest & deepest, berry blue hope
not to rot here with the lot of you.
So, with great want I watch the passing birds
fly in the sky and seethe in need for the
little hoppers who come so near
just to tilt their tiny heads
and maddeningly flutter off.
There must be one who makes the mistake
of choosing me.
One who plucks me right off with its beak
and bolts to dine in some high, safe place.
It will die for its hunger,
and so too will I for satisfying it.
But, for a moment between boredom's end
and attaining purpose,
I'll see the garden from a different view;
a bird's eye.
I'll see the entire vine for what it is,
and hopefully; finally, know why
it's worth protecting at all.
BURST
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 1:46 AM UTC
it rains
and i smile.
dopamine pumps
as water vapor
excited by evaporation
and
exalted by the elevation,
wishes to remain in the clouds.
but the float is fleeting
and eventually a rain falls.
with it the water,
so enlightened by the episode,
returns to the surface
as it was before
but somehow new.
to remember but never miss being a gas,
understanding the evanescence of effervescence
while
everblue junipers
caress the wet sidewalk
and twigs hug the curb
as they float down the street.
tomorrow sand will appear
at the edges of the road.
I haven't
watered my garden
in over a week.
but
now spear shaped tendrils
of liquid hydrogen monoxide
plummet down at
twenty two miles per hour
making patterns across the
wet surface of the earth.
in the bright spots
rain drop splashes
stumble back and forth
across the dance floor
like cymbal crashes.
wasps,
grounded
by wet wings,
begin their slumber
early,
jaws locked,
legs dangling
off the stem of a flower
whose petals are
battered and wet.
the newly
pregnant
ocean
swells unnoticeably.
streams emerge,
rivers rob banks,
puddles form
around
orangeskin pores;
and the
everblue junipers
caress the wet sidewalk.
triggering
the docile drum
of dopamine,
pulsing,
pumping.
prompting
the corners
of the
eating,
speaking,
spitting hole
to elevate,
elongate, ebb,
and stretch apart
exposing crooked
violent jagged bones
that broke our gum.
the docile drum.
as water vapor
comes to understand
the evanescence of effervescence
to a syncopated beat,
i smile.
May 28, 2011
May 28, 2011 at 6:43 PM UTC
I look at other people and
I simply miss them,
I miss empathizing with others,
realizing that other people
feel the way I do
But I’m different now,
I used to be like everyone else
with the same opinions
and same behavior
but it’s changed so suddenly
If people knew how I feel,
they would all feel the same about me
“You should get help”
“You should talk to somebody”
that’s why I miss them,
they’re all the same.
They all blend in unnoticeably
while I become the attraction at the zoo.
I want to be them again.
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 11:27 PM UTC
everblue junipers
caress the wet sidewalk
and twigs hug the curb
as they float down the street.
tomorrow sand will appear
at the edges of the road.
I haven't
watered my garden
in over a week.
now spear shaped tendrils
of liquid hydrogen dioxide
plummet down at
twenty two miles per hour
making patterns across the
wet surface of the earth.
in the bright spots
rain drop splashes
stumble back and forth
across the dance floor
like cymbal crashes.
wasps,
grounded
by wet wings,
begin their slumber
early,
jaws locked,
legs dangling
off the stem of a flower
whose petals are
battered and wet
like fry ready fish.
the newly
pregnant
ocean
swells unnoticeably.
streams emerge,
rivers rob banks,
puddles form
around
orangeskin pores;
and the
everblue junipers
caress the wet sidewalk.
Nov 7, 2010
Nov 7, 2010 at 5:29 PM UTC
Same exact date but of different pace
Now reminiscing what happened in that place
That chilly night as we race
Through the situation of life and death.
I still clearly remember
As I was murmuring prayers
Which I poorly and randomly constructed
Even God can't quite understand clearly.
In the midst of the night, we rushed to the hospital
Advised that she must be confined
So my father left me behind
To tend her and to keep an eye.
She told me to take some rest but I disagree
Under her sweet voice I fell asleep unnoticeably
Wishing I never did
'cause that cost me a lifetime of guilt.
Waken up to see her in hysterical
Of the squeezing in her heart that could be fatal
Enough to make me frantic
Trying to think of the essentials.
As I watched her struggling for her breath
I tried to held back the tears that can't help but stream
Not wanting her to see me losing
Hope for her so she'll keep on fighting.
Hoping for a miracle as they recucitate her
I knew it there but still in denial
And at the crack of the dawn
I lost her...without even saying "Goodbye."
That is one of those times
When you want to gather all those spared hours
And add every single second of it to that very moment
So you could change the course of fate but couldn't.
The feeling of helplessness
Like a bird without its wings
Can't think of anything
But weep about everything.
Thoughts running in my mind
As unstoppable as the river flow
Tears running down my face
Streaming like the waterfalls.
The pain was unbearable
Especially when you got no one to lean on
Because the one you can always count on
Is the one you're bleeding for.
It's been three years
But why do I feel devastated after all this time?
Then someone answered me,
" '*cause the memories of the past never go away.
They are with us till the end of our time*."
This may be a memory of the past now
But unlike any other, it will never be forgotten
A past that's always a part of my present
And will always play a big role in my future...
Krystal Marcelo
01/22/16
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 8:25 PM UTC
everblue junipers
caress the wet sidewalk
and twigs hug the curb
as they float down the street.
tomorrow sand will appear
at the edges of the road.
I haven't
watered my garden
in over a week.
now spear shaped tendrils
of liquid hydrogen dioxide
plummet down at
twenty two miles per hour
making patterns across the
wet surface of the earth.
in the bright spots
rain drop splashes
stumble back and forth
across the dance floor
like cymbal crashes.
wasps,
grounded
by wet wings,
begin their slumber
early,
jaws locked,
legs dangling
off the stem of a flower
whose petals are
battered and wet
like fry ready fish.
the newly
pregnant
ocean
swells unnoticeably.
streams emerge,
rivers rob banks,
puddles form
around
orangeskin pores;
and the
everblue junipers
caress the wet sidewalk.
Apr 12, 2010
Apr 12, 2010 at 4:58 AM UTC
A speck
It festers
Silently
Growing
Leeching
Unnoticeably
Raspy voiced
Less than whispered
Barely noticed
A pesky itch
Ignore
A twitch
Ignore
It won't exist
Ignore
Fade away
Please
The edge is turning grey
The plague is back
Black
And here to stay
In truth
It never really went away
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 7:35 PM UTC
First note of the year:
a small tan thing that falls to my desk from his hand.
I don't recognize the name
but I know immediately who and where she is.
He lets me out a minute early
as we're all congregated around the door
waiting, patiently for the bell.
I walk into the room
to find her jump roping
in a third floor classroom
at ten in the morning.
Her's is a face I have never seen
and her name is also unknown to me
as i the reason i'm here;
who told her about me.
but we talk for a few minutes
her words slurred almost unnoticeably by a slight southern accent
that makes me feel better about just sitting here and talking.
after ten minutes
a face familiar to both of us melts in through the doorframe
and we all talk
until a face all three of us know
also slinks in
and sits on the sofa
and our conversation continues
about everything,
and nothing,
and ourselves,
and everyone else.
the minutes creep by
and feel bad for not being in class
but this feeling, here
with a couple of good friends
and the short jump-roping lady with the slight southern accent
is peaceful,
and for the rest of the day
i'm calm and my thoughts are collected.
and a few of them
just a few
are questioning my future
thinking how great it would be
to be in her position;
in a room with people she knows
laughing, smiling, talking
and letting them leave
with smiles and calm thoughts.
more than traveling and meeting people,
learning their stories as I go;
this is where I belong
or is it?
I can't answer that
even with clear thoughts.
Someday I'll be able to-
Someday
©Brandon Webb
2012
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 2:52 PM UTC
the clock constantly reminds you
of the time wasted
and it daunts me that our time is slowly
but unnoticeably, running out
though it would be a pleasant serene bliss
to waste each tick and tock
being present with you
c.r
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 8:38 PM UTC
Startling set of subtleties laced between the shadows of common things
The shred of darling darkness you've disgraced by denying it the light
Admire the simple songs, ignore the undertones hiding between the notes
Versing the sunrise, ignoring the dewy tears in Apollo's eyes
A masterpiece can't be complete without the sum of invisible brush strokes
Secondary shadows playing with our perceptions, slip through the seams
They are quietly quintessential, unnoticeably indispensable
Writing anonymous autographs in photographs & autobiographies in poetry
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 5:28 AM UTC
I see a netted drape
Over my mouth
And a knotted one
Over my occipital
A breath of fresh air,
Still finds its way south;
To give no relief
As my ***** drawls.
I'm a southern girl,
So south you ain't south anymo',
The same as my health,
Downed like a Merritt Island Iced Tea.
(For those of you unknowing,
MI is were addicts go to retire,
and our teas are more green than the dragon)
For vainglory we go
Buzzed and slow
I did so well,
despite red in the bowl
over and over
I just saw roses
On my long nails,
under my eyelids,
in my nostrils,
Unnoticeably pale.
The pain makes me pass,
outer than cattle
In the Atlantic, you still won't find them.
If I count like a toddler,
why can't he?
He strangles my ears,
Slaps my eyes,
clenches my stomach,
hurts my hands, my arms, my spine, my legs, my face, my jaw,
And still they don't listen.
I can't blame them much.
Though I said many word,
The passion didn't seem right.
Wrong to the right people,
Screamed to the able,
Signed to the deaf.
No one has done anything horrible to me.
Nobody but me.
Sure, I have problems with my mind
Like most of you here
(otherwise we wouldn't be writers,
though I am of a differemt [boring] breed)
But that's not what's killing me.
My body is shutting down,
And I wish that was metaphorical.
Or that it would hurry up and finish.
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 8:33 PM UTC
Black crow why do you
Sing of fear louder
Than you breathe
The soft embrace of non existence
Is comforting beyond hope
And your hope is
Berried so deep underneath
Scraps of sharp memories
And sweat drenched dirt
That step in the direction of
Unknown makes you fall
Before you feel the ground under
The soles of your tired feet
Why don't you leave, dark bird?
Sitting here perched on the windowsill
Ever so unnoticeably
Glancing at the faces of the living
Urning for something
To remind you of
What you thought yourself to be
With not a grain of sympathy
Abusing only to relate
Quiet, bird, don't spill
The effort don't be like those
Accustomed to play the
Assigned roles
This isn't your tree but you may rest here
And I grew accustomed to
Your quiet noises and loud
Silences
I love silences the most
For the wisdom
Of simply coexisting
In proximity
That is always comparative
Always devastatingly far
And dreadfully close
And if I wanted you to go
All I need is ask you to stay
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 9:54 PM UTC
In the deep shade cast by a towering mountain
Lies a monstrous warehouse. And inside this warehouse
Is column after column after row after row after row
Of shelves, shelves, shelves, more shelves,
Fading off into the gloom of the farthest corners.
And on each of these shelves sit dolls—
Hundreds, thousands, millions—billions?
And each of these dolls is defected.
The reason for the defect is branded across the forehead,
Melted plastic forming the biting words:
*Pathetic.
Weak.
Prideful.
Snappy.
Self-centered.
Egotistic.
Stupid.
Ignorant.
Useless.*
And on and on and on these dolls sit,
Shelf after shelf, row after row, column after column.
The dolls gradually age—slowly, almost unnoticeably.
But they age. Each is an “improvement”
Of the one next to her.
The newer model would get though a bit more,
Last just a bit longer, but still fail at some point.
And so the brander draws near, and brands the skin,
Melting plastic to drip softly down as tears.
But the doll can’t cry.
She’s already been shut down and awaits
The day the space next to her will be filled.
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 1:53 PM UTC
Black craft paper in hand, you watch as the snowflakes land
Your kindergarten teacher explains that each one is "beautiful and unique"
But now as you look in the mirror you can see neither
When you were little you used to love to catch lightning bugs
You would watch them float in the Mason Jars, as the July air kissed your cheeks
But you don't notice the seasons anymore, do you?
For you, time passes unnoticeably
Lost between the coffee breaks and the heartaches
You push life aside
Until nothing
is really
left.
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 6:17 PM UTC
One day I will be gone
Leaving only pains behind
Sufferings to heart
Tears to those I love
Scar to those who choose to put their hearts on me
My dear self
Cant we be gone silently?
Can we please fade away unnoticeably..
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 1:28 AM UTC
Staring at a blank piece of paper
Sitting in a state of emptiness
My fingers itching with the need to write
To express the intense emotions
Of which are overwhelming me
I fear my heart and soul are soon to combust
Simply because I cannot put these emotions on paper
My body feeling numb from the bombarding memories
Mind feeling almost too tense to stay conscious
Breathe I must remind myself
Without thought my hand grasped the worn down pencil
Hovering lightly above the waiting sheet for a long moment
Suddenly the cracked tip of lead seemingly begins to whisper
As it moves almost unnoticeably and gracefully slow
Words seeming almost too fragile began to appear
Such relief poured from my tightened limbs
All anxiety gone so quickly it was as if it never existed
Writing such simple words is my safe haven
The vaccine that cured my brokenness
Slowly my smile slips back to where it belongs
Now I cry from relief
-ARI
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 6:39 PM UTC
What would happen if I disappeared?
Into nothing, out of time,
all stemming interaction ceasing
There would be the grievances,
ultimately stemming from the fear of it becoming truly personal.
Then the world would move on
With the human idea of time erasing me from existence.
The sun sets and the moon cycles
gravity pulls the earth around.
As i sit with you watching the stars,
I cannot fathom all of those who we have forgotten,
and realize i must come to terms
with the fact that i am a tick of a clock that will pass unnoticeably.
But if that tick did not happen,
then we could not continue:
stuck in a moment when i did not exist.
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 9:44 PM UTC
I am in love with your biological makeup
Your mess of countless diverse cells
The cells that form the epidermis that wraps around you and calls you home.
Those cells that are constantly replacing old for new
The dead layer unnoticeably falling off with no harm when you touch me.
The dead cells that make mine feel alive
To the point I only feel alive with your cells which are plummeting to death but regenerating mine back to life.
The cells that come together in an array of ways to compose your beautiful, yet, intriguing soul are the same ones that help compose who I am.
Even though the ones that touch me are dead, they are the ones that make me feel alive.
And I cannot live without them.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC