"unscramble" poems
A tale of many cities confined within
Deep dark secrets stacked in.
Lies, the world presume as sins,
That’s how the story of ‘The Black Box’ begins.
Cramped amid the four gloomy walls,
‘The Black Box’ is what he calls.
Looking to unscramble pieces at the bottom,
He rolled up his sleeves to the problem.
Not knowing, this can put him in a ditch,
And ‘The Black Box’ can act like a *****
He went on in the search for a prize,
Unaware of this forthcoming surprise.
He knew, many have tried to look inside,
To find a package of perfection in the hide
Disappointed to see the shattered glasses,
They closed the box to put it with a stack of more boxes.
Still, he preferred to move ahead,
In spite of knowing he will lose his head.
The minute he thought he was nearer to precision,
A way distant he was from the actual incision.
The time will come, when he will have his threshold,
Sooner or later, he will have to fold.
After all, no one can alter the history,
No matter what! ‘The Black Box’ will remain a mystery.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 11:23 AM UTC
unravel my thoughts,
like a bunch of necklaces tangled together.
unscramble my words,
like a puzzle.
decode the meanings behind my Instagram captions,
to try to understand my ways.
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 11:16 AM UTC
Stories, truths, lies, all these lines,
So confused as to what is happening.
Like riding a rodeo, Dust and rope, rain and shine,
Been a year thinking, and breaking bones,
Healing, taking bumps, watching phishermen
As they try to pick the lock of my heart.
The truth is no one knows my story,
No one knows his story,
They take letters, unscramble them to make a sound
A sound that is not yet proven to be true, either way.
I have time to think and make my move.
No one is rushing it, I am not, he is not,
We are on the same page, but the healing begins.
The only way you will get the answer is not by words, Understanding math, and finding the common denominator
Is the only possible solution.
I am the solution to the problem, not the problem.
Math can sometimes be difficult, because
There are ways to finding the solution,
But if you're not careful, there may be many numbers
Not useful, and the remainders will have to be
Reworked until there is a clear denominator for Solution to this equation.
Rumors have it that I did not show my right to him.
However, truth says that time and space heals wounds.
I do not have to doubt my love,
Because I see where the common denominator is.
Rumors have it that I drove him crazy,
Truth is that I feared love and he opened me up to it.
Rumors have it that I am not right for him,
Truth has it that solutions are sometimes painful,
But only the one can be the solution to my problem.
Rumor has it that I think I am the one,
The truth is the only common denominator that seeks
To make the math problem whole is the one.
Rumors say, that I will not feel loved again,
Truth says, it is love that is opening me up from a distance. Rumors say I do not belong in his life,
The truth says, I already exist in his life,
I am the one he suffered to fix me, and I accept it.
Rumors say I have no peace because I have no love,
Truth says he is the one that opened me to love.
Rumors say I am a broken dream with no hope,
Truth says I am the hope that brings peace to dreams.
Rumors say I am nobody and fat and ugly,
Truth says, my heart opened and my ugliness has Moved on to peace, love, and understanding.
Rumors say, why you like younger people?
Truth says, my youth is what brings me the joy I seek.
Rumors say leave it alone, you will never have him,
Truth says, I already did, and now I am more open.
Rumors say you will never last,
Truth says, true love, lasts a lifetime.
Rumors say you caused the separation,
Truth says, my heart was inseparable and I will prove it.
Rumors say, distance ruins relationships,
Truth says distance is what heals obstacles and barriers.
Rumors say I have some many barriers to open love,
Truth says love is what opened my barriers to freedom.
Rumors say the foundation to my heart is broken,
Reality says brokenness is the foundation of fixing
The broken pieces that will show the one
Who is the one in space and time to fix my brokenness.
Rumors do not believe in love but fear that love exists,
Truth believes that love exists and hope is the key.
Rumors need a reality check,
The truth knows where it is heading on this journey.
Jan 13, 2019
Jan 13, 2019 at 3:34 PM UTC
sometimes falling for someone is like sky-diving,
and sometimes it’s like jumping off golden gate bridge.
sometimes falling for someone is like sky-diving without a parachute
and still expecting to land on your feet,
sometimes falling for someone is like jumping off the golden gate bridge
and wishing you could climb back up in the split second
before you hit the ground.
see, you and me, we’re a little like my teeth;
all the things i let get just a bit crooked
because i didn't try hard enough to keep them in place.
i think there's a metaphor somewhere in there.
i think there's a metaphor in everything if i look hard enough.
but the thing is, life isn't poetry.
it doesn't always have an overarching meaning and message.
and not everything makes sense in stanzas if you unscramble it.
so i think the biggest lie i’ve ever heard about love
is that it sets you free.
but in the same breath our heartbeats sync up
like all those people who made love look so easy, so simple.
you are a home i don't know how to find my way back to,
and i know you can’t make rest-stops into safe havens
and i know if you’re going to try to make homes out of people
then you can’t be surprised when your house falls apart
and you have to move away.
but you, you were good at making hotels feel like homes.
you were good at making things
like open roads and bedsheets and stolen moments
feel like they belonged to us.
like that twin bed and the two of us
with our feet are tangled and our wires are crossed.
we were always spilling over the edges.
you never fit into any part of my life, but you still squeezed.
and not in a bad way, maybe more of a i'm mad at you
for finding all this extra space in me
i never knew was there until you
and then having the nerve to leave it empty.
so i guess i don't really miss people, i just miss the spaces
they leave behind.
the cracks in my pavement.
and god, what a dangerous thing to think
that someone else can make you whole.
and god, what a dangerous thing to think
that someone else can save you from yourself.
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 10:44 AM UTC
Forgotten notes lie at the bottom of bags
along with broken pencils
bits of dirt
forgotten words, prayers
continually trampled
deeper and deeper they sink
as work is piled higher and higher
compressing into one
uncrumple them
unscramble the faded letters
before
at the end of the year they are swept up
into the trash
recycled to pulp and reborn
They still linger there
with the gum wrappers
and discarded things
you cannot throw out
until you have forgot them
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 1:26 PM UTC
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
Of the land of Scramble Doo?
It's a place of pure joy in
Scramble Damble Doo
I tell ye the truth
Of this land not faraway
I journey through it en mass
Each passing day!
Call it Damble Doo Scramble
Or Doo Scramble Damble
Or anything you want! They were but example
But don't let anyone tell you how to unscramble your own place of joy
For Scramble Damble Doo lies in every girl and boy!
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 8:43 PM UTC
Gazing into nothing
With my ghastly swollen eyes
Amazed I'm so emotional
And that takes me by surprise
Tired of being crowded
With people and my thoughts
I sneak into the shadows
And try to unscramble your retorts
At no given moment
Was I aware of the pain
Until I was alone once more
And reunited with disdain
It's the feeling of grey
A vision blurred with a cloud
A taste so greatly rotten
A silent scream, unplugged, aloud
As I melt into reality
The figure is much more clear
Much more potent to my memory
So ugly as it starts to veer
I don't know what to do with it
So I poke it and conceive
It's something I can get past
Just a time wasting little peeve
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 11:58 AM UTC
Out of the blue, you came back
Under a sky of a million stars
Right when I needed someone
To pull me back up
Now I'm here
Each day gets a little easier
You keep me company when I feel alone
Tonight you're so far away, and
Here I am trying to unscramble my thoughts and feelings
It's certainly not easy
Separating the logic and emotion
Outgoing, funny, kind, smart...
Never enough words to describe
Every one true
It's hard for me put everything into words
So here are just a few
Feel how you want to feel
Others will try to hurt you, but don't let them
Remember how awesome you are
You only get one life
Obtain every goal you set and
Unearth every treasure you find
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 11:47 PM UTC
what i find so
fascinating about you is that
you never seem to start or
end where you are supposed
to. no, you have your own
pauses and stops, and the
more i try to follow
you, the more confused i
get. is there any pattern or
sequence to you that i can
decipher? is there
a glitch in your equation which i
could probably unscramble? believe me. i find
that you are more beautiful in your
insistence not to be understood. i liked that
about you, as that tells me i don’t
have to struggle so hard. but, baby,
i still want to try. let me still
get my paper and pencil out to attempt
to solve you, like that algebraic equation
i can’t seem to ever get right. honey, i am
not giving up on you, the same
way i got headaches over those questions that
tested the logic out of me, eventually leading
me to ask whether i was really intelligent enough to
figure something out. but even then, even when
i am out of my zone and completely
uncertain, i will still follow this
fascination through. who
knows, perhaps, eventually
i will find the right spot, the precise
timing, the exact
variable needed to complete the solution to
us.
for j.e.
111814
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 9:46 AM UTC
Poetry comes in many themes and schemes
Don't care much for long winded written ostentatious verbosity
Full of riddles they expect me to unscramble
To quote "Bukowski" :
" An intellectual says a simple thing in a hard way
An artist says a hard thing in an easy way"
The best for me is: Enigmatic prose
Well structured ...That I can then define as Art
If I entertain you with what I write
Then you may decide if it is Poetry
And then If... i am a Poet
Apr 8, 2010
Apr 8, 2010 at 4:35 AM UTC
I've always known what I wanted.
I felt like I had everything mapped out
and the only thing that could go wrong was that I wouldn't have enough time.
Well, time started to pass and the plan started to fade.
It would be erased and
a new idea came to mind,
only to be replaced
later in time by another.
Each one seeming
more surer than the last.
They all were never
as permanent as I hoped.
Only becoming temporary
because I couldn't make up my mind
and decide.
Time went by still
and even the thought
of the future began to fade.
It faded fast,
just like the others.
But it wasn't replaced.
The form of the "future" was taken over by emptiness
and unable to react,
I began accepting that there
was nothing for me anymore.
I couldn't find something
to be interested in.
I was lacking a muse,
motivation,
inspiration.
I shut everyone out;
afraid of losing the
people I was close to.
It became a struggle to
make it through a day.
It was harder to find
a reason to get out
of bed in the morning.
It felt like the emptiness
had come and consumed
what I had left,
if I had anything left at all.
There was no freedom,
a prisoner to my own problems.
The possiblity to end it all
hung over my head;
but I never took it,
frightened to be called weak,
afraid.
Society had made me an outcast,
getting comfort when I could
and simultaneously learning to
not rely on others.
Only I could be my own best friend.
Misunderstood
and perceived as happy,
I carried on the charade,
the reason unknown.
I couldn't be taken seriously
as I was always known
for being so carefree
and happy.
That fun-loving girl
was torn apart inside,
but she faked a smile,
lying to herself and
everyone else by pretending
it was okay.
This went on and yet
no inspiration for the future
could be found.
The time yet to come
was still a vast space of
jumbled dreams with no way
to unscramble them.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 1:40 PM UTC
My brain is on fire with everything.
I sit down to write and end up with blank lines and empty stanzas.
Where words of intense beauty and insight should rest are frustrated scribbles.
My lack of aspiration is disheartening.
I can’t unscramble my mind for one second long enough to write a decent line,
Or anything that’s not…I lost my train of thought.
Want to know where it went?
You.
Straight to you, without consent
Like a fly to honey, I’m stuck in the sticky sweetness of you.
See? Even my similes ****
Drowning in this sad case of writers block.
My creative flow is barren.
My muse is strangled by thoughts of your silly grin.
I set my pen to paper and waste hours on the sap that is my poetry.
Wondering if there is any hope left for me.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 11:24 PM UTC
I feel that the body I have been given is too small
too small for the infinities that my mind and soul create
inside of me every minute, of every day
like my brain is wild with ideas too big
to fit inside their casing
and my body too weak, to hold my thoughts
words do not come easy to me, though not through lack of language.
There is too much inside my head to unscramble the jumbled mess
of words and thoughts and ideas, too strong, too strong for me
this body is weak in comparison to the colours and feelings inside of me
this measly shell, restricting my mind from reaching out
and experiencing the true form of this world, and the next
a flesh encasing that my brain is dependant on, yet what if it were not?
what if my soul was cast adrift with ideas I was not aware had came to exist
what if once my mind was free? what would happen then?
my mind is living somewhere else,
and I think that is where my soul eternally resides
and I will find it one day, one day, one day
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
I swear the words took a million years to come out
And reach my ears,
And then a million more for my brain to unscramble them.
Years of
Utter emptiness
Searing pain
Agonizing heartbreak.
Years spent
Punching walls
Sobbing
Screaming.
Highs and lows trading places
Like they couldn't get enough of my
Self hatred
Self destruction
Self annihilation.
Years spent living on extremes,
Over confident, over achieving
Too tired, too alone
Unbelievably alive, unbelievably in love
So reckless, so dangerous.
All of it
Concluding
Culminating
Climaxing
In four words
"Manic.
Depressive.
Borderline.
Bipolar."
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 12:10 AM UTC
your beauty is so
overwhelming
that i want to open
multiple tabs of you,
crash my computer
with curiosity
and overwhelm capacity,
in the blue screen that follows
i unscramble coding language,
and spell your name and
traits that i admire,
in that moment during restart
staring at the black of screen,
thoughts of 'us' are interrupted
when i see my own reflection.
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 10:27 PM UTC
Take a word.
Take any word,
write it backwards,
say it with a smirk.
Take a word and then
take another.
Roll them across your constellations,
tickle them 'til they squeal and surrender;
take your words and breathe them,
against them,
through them,
with them.
Take a word and peel it apart.
See if it floats.
Unravel its nucleus and strip it of charge.
Pound on its door at three a.m.,
yell its name against the grain,
don't stop until it comes out and steps on you.
Take a word and marry it.
Take a word and make it bold.
Sleep with it on a drunken Tuesday;
leave before it wakes up.
Handle it differently.
Write poems about it,
write essays that don't fit,
write like words are all that matter.
Use few.
Use far more than you could ever possibly need to explain what you're trying to say.
Take a word and beat it to death,
nurse it back to health.
Show it to your friends,
hide it in your freckles,
live like it's not judging your movement.
Take a word and never give it back.
Take it hostage,
a pet for a game you haven't named yet.
Take your words and coax them into order,
let them fall apart.
Rearrange and unscramble your words,
forget about their meanings.
Use them for good and evil,
a sword to smite ignorance.
(But for the love of god,
speak up.)
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 6:13 PM UTC
“Mom!”
The creaks of the old metal bed frame pierce in the silent night from across the house.
“Mom!”
Footsteps on the hard wooden floor slowly making their way to my room.
“Yes darling?”
A shadow emerges into my doorway.
“I had a bad dream.”
The light flicks on and my eyes close tight.
A new weight set upon my twin sized bed,
the bad dreams release from my mind in my six year old body.
A warm hand grabs the back of my head and arms around my body.
“Theres nothing to be scared about, *** no monsters in your room.” She checks underneath my bed.
A kiss upon my forehead and a rapid change to darkness,
I lay there with my eyes wide open hoping not to get this dream once more.
I hope I’m not the only one who this has happened to before.
When falling off your bike was the most unimaginable pain, but a band-aid seemed so magical.
What ***** about a split family is not being there for the other parent.
my biggest regret in life is not seeing my mom and sister enough.
But ****** mom these dreams are coming back and the only thing I can yell for at night is for the monsters in my head to go back to underneath my mattress where they belong and to leave me the hell alone.
I hate the quiet.
I hate not hearing dad watch Fox News in the living room because that meant you were in the bedroom.
I accept the fact that you and dad are never getting back together,
But I can’t find a day where I wouldn’t **** to come home to both parents and my sister at the dinner table.
Talking about how ******** the education system is,
How corrupted our government is,
I don’t even care anymore.
Mom my nightmares are coming back,
I look out the window and ask the moon for advice
and I can hear it talking I just cant unscramble the words in my mind,
when all it’s trying to tell me,
is there are no monsters,
you’re going to be fine.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 12:01 PM UTC
I promised to never sing so sadly,
But lately every tune seems off key,
Grasping onto the notes and chords,
Trying to unscramble melodic words,
But they all fall off the lines of the paper,
They swim in brew and pools of liquor,
I find myself crying out to some hopeless God,
But my wings are stained- his crown is flawed,
Tarnished by living in this mortal world,
Where the future is the past unfurled,
A struggle that ends in only one tragic way,
The closing scene to a calamitous play,
But no beast or man is in my scene, no, just I,
Placed here to abide to a life that was born to die.
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC
I hold you close in my chest
Along with the others
The ghosts of my past
I assign you a chamber
That empty hollow room
One of the many
Locked away in veins,
Sealed up in blood
And all of those I miss you's
You sputtered
As I slammed you shut against my skull
Are now replaying themselves
Rattling inside my mind
I think, my dear,
That the next world war
Will most definitely start
With the spark you left inside my heart
But you are simply a memory now
Taunting me with the horrors of yesterday
Sticking your tongue out
And tracing it along my clavicle
Don't you see dear?
I'm referencing all of our favorite songs
Not that they'll ever understand,
But you can bet your shortened dollar
It's still replaying in my mind
And I'm holding your invisible hand
Wishing for just once more
That you were still next to me
In flesh and bone
Not just wind and dust
I carry you with me every day
But it's simply not enough
So I sip, smoke, inject
Praying for the same fate
That met your lips
The day you deflated in my arms
We will be together yet,
I can promise you that
I **** away all my pennies
Praying for fate to unscramble these words
And snap me right back next to you
Where I've belonged
All along
May 1, 2012
May 1, 2012 at 10:47 PM UTC
A stinging sensation
Similar to that of a bunch ats having their way with you
A burning unscramble itch
Simlar to that of a couple bee stings
The uncontrollable feeling of anger
Like acid meet metal
Fumes and bubbles
Smoke everywhere
Ready to ignite watever comes close
This burning hot feeling
This uncontrollable yearning for something that someone has
Could it be?
An ordinary morning
Noise everywhere
Not wanting to get out of bed
An errie feeling crept up to me
Like a sense of dejavu
Telling to stay down
Dont get up
It felt like a thousand bugs
Crawling under my skin
Wat i opened my eyes to
Is this the reason why u shouldn't check your phone in the mrng?
Could this feeling be wat i think?
Wait.....it could be it
But why
I hve no reason to be
We never had anything to begin with
Then why does my heart feel like this
Like a rag doll..... bound in twine
Untill the thread is almost cutting in
Then like a yoyo
Thrown around only to come back to the thrower to be thrown again
Like a soccer ball being passed around teammates
Only for the striker to give it a more powerful kick
Every second i looked
The string got tighter
And as i closed my eyes in thought
I could taste blood in my mouth
What irony
My head laughed
But only the sound of gritting teeth could be heard
As i endured the tugs froms my hrt
Yes this was it
Its the conclusion i came to
Yes indeed
It was jealous
Sep 24, 2021
Sep 24, 2021 at 4:52 AM UTC
Trust is not commercial, because trading or exchanging wears upon one's very truth isn't exactly well thought out. It only comes about, when one's very truth isn't (not) exactly commercial. But when trust isn't truth, when one's very wears aren't as thought out as it was to begin with. Scrambling many believes until one most tired (thought out) engagement, began to unscramble back into "trust is not commercial"!
Jul 31, 2020
Jul 31, 2020 at 10:24 PM UTC
To change the past.
That is the plea.
Of the many,
Who have failed like me.
Torment be gone,
From hurting hearts.
Anguish errased.
Unpuzzled the parts.
So much more simple,
life could be.
If it all could unscramble
And set us each free.
From our choices,
Now sealed in the past.
Forever imprinting,
Our days to the last.
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 1:56 PM UTC
Their language,
Which until now,
Had spoken clearly,
Fluently,
Through my mind,
Became jumbled, with the dis-
-connect and confusion,
Normally reserved,
For others.
I stared,
Pleaded for them to,
Unscramble,
Themselves to show,
Me the solution,
To their arrangement,
But still,
Nothing.
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 6:24 PM UTC
Welcome, to the tragedy of my mind.
This distortion you see, you feel;
It's mine.
Take a peek inside, you'll be surprised.
Bright colours, radiant,
And thoughts scream in my dreams;
Disorganization, puts me sleep.
Unscramble my words as they stay itching at your ear.
Say it out loud!
What's there to fear?
I'm the sunset!
Exploding across your indigo skies!
But you were the night.
You extinguished my flame,
You turned out the lights.
I was a bright orange, but you remained dark.
You turned my vibrant sunset,
Into nothing but burnt embers.
Now I can't conjour a sunset,
I don't remember.
Shades of grey float in my mind;
Words, dull and tasteless,
Falling flat to your feet.
Thoughts of lonliness comfort me to sleep.
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 10:40 PM UTC