"updated" poems
Two-daughters succession go astride
One hunched in apathy
The other in defeat
I could have seen beauty in progeny
Before it was
Crushed
By artificial gravity
Smelling of blood-stained pittances
And a taker’s philosophy,
Their lunch-box notions
And plastic dreams
Rattled the bars on a shopping cart.
Do they, I wonder,
Feel their ease at pain? Or luxury, woe?
Though their smiling faces
Were promised, now reach
To Paradise,
I can seem them
Crushed
Beneath them, too:
Updated, upgraded, brand-spanking new
All they ever hoped to be,
Customized
Head-to-fucking-toe.
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
Oversharing on your social feed
Everyone knows your wants and needs
Save for those who really care
To the rest of us you need not bear
Your lunch and dinner were had, we see
Relationship status updated several times a week
How can it be?
I remember a day we shared with ourselves
Worries and whims on paper with pen
In a book called a journal or diary
it would have been
Discreet it was then
As it should be again
I can't wait for the sharing to end.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 2:26 PM UTC
Everyone complains about the "system",
how it is rigged, manipulated and controlled.
But they do not take a moment to listen,
or to take a moment and break the mold.
Work out and do not eat those fries,
then you will say goodbye to those thighs.
Work hard, work long, and get the paycheck,
take a chance and stick out your neck.
Become what you despise,
or stand and rise.
Because you can lie down and die,
and let them walk on you,
curl up and cry,
and let your whole life turn blue.
But your failure is your own fault,
not the systems,
you were not locked in a vault.
You have been duped,
or you are duping,
So stop singing the song the dupees sing.
Updated from my tablet which my white upper class parents bought me to prepare for my pre_paid college*
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 12:05 PM UTC
Airborne Muse #2: Once I wrote: (1)
if it cannot be said
in ten words, it cannot
(but now, older wiser, more intuitive)
I be~leave five is plentiful
and I'm still
working on
the three of:
thee and me
&
and one day,
I"ll get to maybe, and
reveal a bare skin
of brotherly love,
and speak of the
trinity of two;
but I'm open to your suggestions,
re that too:
note tho,
must be superior superlative than:
*above beyond
just merely
we two*
11/26/24
12:27pm
last updated
7:07am
9/28/25
Sep 19, 2025
Sep 19, 2025 at 10:33 AM UTC
Knowing that history repeats itself
and to define a fool is also repitition
Theres madness stacked in minds of many on a shelf
mankinds unordinary fatal condition
Our generation is falling
while temporal worldy attainment rises
Technology renewed us into babies, crawling
to the new updated components that buys us
So blend up the world and fit it in your cup
i hope you choke on the faithless future that fuels you
Dont get out of bed dont wake up
when you dont know how to
The spirit of this race was depleted
when the disease of identities was treated
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 11:36 PM UTC
the cherry blossom accord/equation
”perfumers use aromachemicals to recreate a cherry blossom accord...(an accord is a scent made up of individual aromachemicals, that when combined, create a harmonious blend where none of the individual ingredients are able to be detected on their own).”
the odor of our lustful eyes,
the sweat, a unique commingling,
a sheen of salted oils body bathing,
crushed green petals of peaches,
crumbled together with the softy fuzz shavings,
the sediment of aromatic fruit juices drippings
our blending bottled in our brains,
none other would recognize but we,
to too two smell each other through and over
floors, concourses, cities, disparate distances
our ingredients secreted (secret),
our flavors cell secreted (secreting)
the world’s silly tittering aroma inserted,
our sparking fingertips touching
add a bush burning burnt odiferous
we seat across from each other in an airport
plastic restaraunt and everyone asks out loudly,
what is that smell, feed me that, taste me that,
as we are irradiating the atmosphere,
as we renegotiate our cherry blossom accord,
fresh signatures, updated, harmony of harmonies, notarized
she smiles, I joke, winking,
we must continue
to meet like this,
the fireworks of we,
of us,
to-gather to-gether,
a getting of giving,
she answers:
*take me home and
bathe me in love,
give our bodies shelter
from the world outside,
beside a new spice
have I uncovered,
this will require some
discussion+exploration,
the quantity to be added,
the when, and the how!*
what is this new ingredient?
asking puzzled and aroused,
she laughs
(a spice already included),
why it’s called
only love poetry
8/23/19 4:55pm
Aug 23, 2019
Aug 23, 2019 at 5:06 PM UTC
It is tonight
That I realize
For the first time
I am starting to forget you
I am beginning to mix up pieces of the past
Like undated polaroids
In a box that is too big-
I am not quite sure
Where exactly they fit in
I don't remember
Your laugh very well
I can only vaguely recall your smile
I see it in updated pictures
But it is not the same one I knew
It is not the one that spent hours
Folding into the crook of my neck
Or humming against the curve of my spine
The smile I see in pictures
Is different
The lips belong to someone
I am unfamiliar with
Someone I have never kissed
And the once clear snapshots
Of our moments
Are now shaded over and blurry
My biggest fear
Used to be losing you
My biggest fear now
Is being unable to
Remember you
To have you stripped
From my consciousness
It is the reaccuring nightmare
That wakes me suddenly
In the midst of comfort
I fall asleep to the same songs
You used to sing to me
But I don't even know the words anymore
There is nothing more terrifying
Than realizing
You are moving on
Nothing more frightening
Than realizing you have to
Eventually
But I don't want to forget you
I don't want to embrace
Your disappearance from my thoughts
I don't want you to evaporate
Like the rain we used to sit under
With our hands open
To catch the remnants of summer heat
I can still smell the air
And feel your warmth breath on my cheek
But the reality is
I am starting to forget
And I have never been more scared in my life
This is not about
Letting go
This is about how memory
Has the ability to shed its skin
It has been so long
That I am starting to forget how yours felt
Against my own
Your marks and your scars
Your freckles
Used to be my territory
I knew exactly where they stood
But now your body is a map
I no longer know the coordinates to
I used to take that path home
Every single night
But now I cannot even remember
The route to get to your house
You are slipping through the cracks
Of my fingers
And there is nothing
That can be done to prevent it
I super glued them together
As tightly as I could
But closed hands aren't good for much
I wonder if the people
I pursue can taste you
On my tongue when I kiss them
I keep you in my mouth
Even if the sweetness is gone
I don't want to erase you
Completely
You are fading like the end credits of a movie
I have watched too many times
I am trying to change the plot
But I know that it cannot be done
And realistically
You have been away
For quite a while now
I would ask you to stay
But my mind has already shown you the exit
Most of you
Has already left me
And tonight I am wondering
If someday the rest
Will leave too
Tonight I am hoping
That if it does,
It won't be anytime soon.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC
I'm so sorry guys, it seems this is never ending.
Here is where I've found new stolen poems
http://www.experienceproject.com/
The user is http://www.experienceproject.com/about/marklovescoffe
(you may need to create a free account to check his posts)
and he's posted
Flying Fingers ~ Pamela Rae under I Wonder Who Reads My Stories with no link
http://www.experienceproject.com/stories/Wonder-Who-Reads-My-Stories/4785328
Know the Beauty of a Woman ~ Cataleya with no link and not only that, in the comments when he was congratulated for a great write he said 'Thanks mate'
http://www.experienceproject.com/stories/Know-The-Beauty-Of-A-Woman/4693147
new link 1 Release ~ POETIC T with no link and his comment was it was from his soul
http://www.experienceproject.com/stories/Love-To-Write/4781292
new link 2 I Am A Writer ~ Madalyn Beck no link
http://www.experienceproject.com/stories/Am-A-Writer/4631574
new link 3 A Kiss Upon a Blank Page ~ Kalypso no link, comments claim it as his own
http://www.experienceproject.com/stories/Kiss-Upon-This-Blank-Page/4577880
new link 4 A Thousand Colours ~ Amrutha no link
http://www.experienceproject.com/stories/F-I-Could/4534117
As you can see, I could sit here all night and point out the stolen poems however, I will now just encourage everyone to visit this link
http://www.experienceproject.com/about/marklovescoffe
join the site (it's free) go to the left hand side menu and click on Stories and see if you recognize your work (you will know the instant you start reading the post!) Then give it to him with both barrels! Like I said in my notes, I'm almost certain they are a member here!
Please share!
i have edited the links in here because he has changed his user name if you are looking for it, he dropped an e off the end... because we are sooo stupid....
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 3:12 AM UTC
So, up to Liverpool,
pretty cool,
I've got family there, and I'm trying to find my bearings.
When I was a kid I went with my Auntie to the Adelphi Hotel,
I remember it well,
so that's where I'll start, move my feet,
it's a quick walk to Bold Street.
Everyone flocks to the Albert Docks,
regenerated, updated, and has created a vibrant corner of a once-thriving port city,
which is pleasing,
the only downside is it's ****** freezing!
The nights out are decent too,
this where Liverpool really pulls through.
Matthews Street, can't be beat,
or Concert Square,
where, you head to Baa Bar for some shots and a few jars.
Then onto Nation with the rest of Liverpool's student population,
going down to Wolstenholme Square,
great memories, shame it's no longer there.
Capital of Culture, lots to explore,
the council wants to restore the city centre,
Liverpool One is second to none.
New shops to buy our Fred Perry tops,
new bars to entertain us,
new places to wear our smart Adidas trainers.
A modern shopping centre to walk through,
have they really called it Everton Two?
Girls off to the supermarket with their hair up in rollers and wearing their PJ's,
funny looks on the face of people who are new to the place.
Lads in black Lacoste trackies,
in the 1980s they came back from the continent after European success,
wearing Fila and Ellesse,
it was called casual,
the style went national.
A city of myths legends,
some more tongue in cheek but still unique.
A sock robber from Kirkby,
is it the original Cavern Club? Well, to a degree.
What about Carragher's tattoo?
He's blue born and bred,
is Paul McCartney actually dead?
I know it's a clichè, but I must say,
it isn't a mere rumour,
there is undoubtedly a Scouse sense of humour,
wordplay and the inflexion on the things they say.
A witty city that's for sure, come and visit,
you'll have everything you need and more.
May 6, 2020
May 6, 2020 at 12:45 PM UTC
He asked me how I liked it today--
from the back or front?
He wanted to know why--
too small or didn't last?
He said he knew, so I shouldn't lie to him--
as if I was less than him.
What's a ****** to do
when the rumors peg her as a ****
She can't ignore the whispers,
or the blatant accusations:
*Now we all know how ***** she really is.*
It's been twenty-four hours,
and already the **** is coming
with dogs, chained, in their heels,
makeup streaked and lipstick smudged.
He releases the *******
But they don't wait for the cover of night to bite,
no, they lunge at noon in the crowded hallways
teeth of words, power of the sideways glance,
venom of whispers, bullets of pointed fingers
He needs a new name for the list,
his quota is short--
because when a girl becomes single,
she is an updated item on the auction:
Name: Lilith
experience: 1 guy(s)
skills:
hands: 4/10
tongue: 6/10
on top: 3/10
bottom: 7/10
volume: loud
Her reputation is spoiled--
the way her friends talk to her,
the invites she gets to hang out,
the fact that no one wants to talk to a ****
Welcome, little ******
to the Virtue Laments.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
of trying to keep a schedule
trying to stay updated
pleasing my **** fans
im getting sort of tired
of trying to be... "deep"
"thought-provoking"
and "pithy"
**** that.
i do not write to please you
i do not write because i want "votes"
and "comments"
i do not write to even keep my sanity in check
not anymore
i write because something nags me so much
that i either turn it into words
or **** myself
simple as that.
so please
please do not think
that my oh-so-romantic poetic suffering
is all for you
it's not.
it most definitely is not.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 9:36 AM UTC
This is your reality, the brave new world;
i just hang out here:
birthed in the Cradle of Elam,
a mourning son of Baal,
smeared and anointed
with the oil from the
***** fingerprints of
countless scores of
sweaty neophytes;
carried, dropped, dented;
brought forth from eons passed,
updated for the 21st century,
gilded Krylon-gold.
This nebulous gift,
made tangible and
whole by blood,
a form fitting sacrifice,
transmogrified kudzu,
rootless, digging
talons' clutch into
our minds' construct,
seeks strength of
conviction, action.
Our ship is now
veering off course.
i must respond in kind.
i will not be led astray.
i will not have my good
intentions commandeered.
i will hijack your purpose,
screaming mutiny,
holding Occam's Razor-knife
to the throat of your jihads.
i issue a fatwa of peace,
as you once did,
before.
i renounce a kingdom of hate,
as you once did,
before.
i seek charity in effort,
as we once did,
before.
Let us rebuild.
Let us move forward.
***** a new Babel,
forsaking the sword.
Let our forks be on roads,
and not on our tongues;
a forging of union,
as we'd once begun:
My sisters, my brothers,
my family,
as one.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 7:39 PM UTC
Mayroon akong gustong ibahagi sainyo
Isinulat ko lamang ito para sa mga interesado
Meron na kasi akong napupusuang isang tao
Pero teka lang, atin-atin lamang to
Di ko alam kung paano sisimulan
Pero alam kong gustong-gusto nyo ng malaman
Kung sino nga ba ang aking naiibigan
Kaya't heto na, inyo ng matutuklasan
Sya'y isang mananayaw
Napaka astig ng kanyang mga galaw
At talagang siya'y mahusay
Habang pinapanood ang kanyang pagganap, ako'y napapa WAW!
Ako'y lalo pang humanga
Nung nalaman kong sya'y manlalaro din pala
Pero hindi ng feelings ah!
Yung larong ang gamit ay shuttlecock at raketa
Marami-rami na din akong alam tungkol sa kanya
Syempre! Lagi akong updated sa kwento ng buhay nya
Ayokong nahuhuli sa balita, hindi naman sa pagiging chismosa
Kase baka mamaya di natin alam may jowa na pala, edi nganga!
Natutuwa lang ako dahil close na kami ngayon
Di ko akalain na magkakaganon
Kasi dati pinapangarap ko lang yon
Masaya na din, pero di na ako naghahangad ng higit pa roon
Marami na pala syang naka fling
Kaya ako naman noon, umaasa at nag fi-feeling
Nagbabaka sakaling mapapansin nya rin
Ang ganda kong walang kadating-dating
Lungkot lang dahil di nya pansin
Na ako sa kanya'y may pagtingin
Hindi ko alam kung kailangan pa bang aminin
O kaya'y akin na lamang ililihim
Pagkat tungkol dyan ay di ko kayang tapatin
Martir na kung martir, tatahimik na lamang at titiisin
Pero maiba tayo
Sa mga oras na to,
Di ko alam kung lalabas pa ba ako ng kwarto
O magkukulong na lang dito
At saka bubuksan ang pinto pag wala ng tao
Malamang nabasa na to ng mga magulang ko
Kaya't ihahanda ko na ang sarili ko
Pagkat mamaya pag nakita nila ako,
Sasalo ako ng gabot, hampas, palo
Hanggang dito na lang,
Damay-damay na to!
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 10:23 PM UTC
My life is different now.
Like it's a game that's been updated.
And I am the main character.
And I'm always low on stamina and health.
Countless restarts, as though I've messed up the level.
But time still goes on and the level changes.
The game is a mess with the only mission to beat being depression.
The NPC's are all non talk-able pixels.
There are random jump scares and flashes of horror and gore.
Hard problems and puzzles to beat, with out the right answer.
No matter how many times I hit save, my progress is still missing.
My story line is incomplete.
No explanation or the controls.
No main objective, rather than surviving.
There are no cheat codes or a guide to help me.
It's hopeless.
There is no quitting.
There is title screen or pausing.
There is no end.
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC
Id spend my afternoons in the garden with the flowers
My only real friends.
We’d talk while I drank my milk tea and laughed for hours about absolute nonsense
The daisys would keep me updated on all the gossip going around the garden
And the chamomile’s would offer their advice on anything I needed.
The lavenders would make me laugh
And the roses would compliment my makeup
Since it was inspired by them
I’d bring my diary there and share with them all my stories and the crazy things that had happened to me that day, since they were the only ones that would listen.
They became my only source of joy
One day I walked to the garden, ready to tell them all my new adventures
But when I began to speak, I noticed something off.
They weren’t responding.
I nudged the orchids.
“What’s wrong? Why aren’t any of you speaking?”
I sat there for hours.
No words.
I came back the next day, hoping they’d speak again.
But they never did.
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 2:58 AM UTC
*your life you don’t care
You cuss and swear
You play those games
think you’re Jesse James
You cause friction and heat
live your life on the street*
YEAH AH, YEAH YEAH
*You’ve been poppin’ pills
You got over due bills
You’re drunk all the time
on whiskey beer ’n shine
but your time is out
and there ain't no doubt*
(chorus)
*You’re a Renegade Yeah Ah, Yeah Yeah
an outlaw renegade man, Ah Yeah
a Renegade Yeah Ah, Yeah
an outlaw renegade man, Ah Yeah*
*You’re like an angry child
crazy, loud and wild
You play that rock ’n roll
it was born in your soul
You’re fast on the draw
but you can’t beat the law*
(chorus)
*You’re a Renegade Yeah Ah, Yeah Yeah
an outlaw renegade man, Ah Yeah
a Renegade Yeah Ah, Yeah
an outlaw renegade man, Ah Yeah*
RENEGADE!. RENEGADE!. RENEGADE!.
outlaw renegade man, Ah Yeah
**Renegade Yeah Ah, Yeaaaah
Renegade Yeah ah, YEAAAAH!**
written by
Warner Baxter
One Knight Stand Productions
Under A Tangerine Sky Entertainment
Phoenix Arizona 2010
all rights reserved
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 5:36 AM UTC
When God at first made man,
Having a glass of blessing standing by,
Let us (said He) pour on him all we can:
Let the world's riches,which dispersed lie,
Constract into a span.
So strength first made a way;
The beauty flowed,then wisdom,honour,pleasure:
perceiving that alone of all His treasure
Rest in the bottom lay.
For if I should (said He)
Bestow this jewel also on my creature,
He would adore My gifts instead of Me,
And rest in Nature,not the God of Nature:
So both should losers be.
Yet let him keep the rest,
But keep them with repining restlessness:
Let him be rich and weary,that, at least,
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness
May toss him to My breast.
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 6:05 AM UTC
*
I have stopped looking at the clouds
and start staring at cornered walls that surrounds me.
The clear skies that I would dream, wondering the complexities of its heights…
I often believed that the sky would make my dreams come true,
but in reality, all it takes to journey your dream is creating a stepping stone.
You can’t achieve anything without making any step.
I always like to jump into conclusion, fear of failure.
In this case, it hinders the optimism values we always have.
Diving into your deepest thoughts is just like scuba diving without oxygen.
We need to learn how to hold our breaths, to accept everything
and process every obstacle in the depth of negativity.
For far beyond its deepness, there is light, shiny as pearls.
You’ll learn its wisdom, an insight that will guide you towards reaching any goal…
Written - 09/16/2013
Updated – 04/21/2014
*
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
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ExBoyfriends
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Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 1:06 AM UTC
What is originality anymore?
The pop songs we listen to day in day out,
That are only updated remixes of
Songs that our parents
Already know every lyric to.
Is it the pranks we play on each other at school,
Poking holes in the top of water bottles,
So we don’t get caught when we try to catch our class mates.
Drowning them
In carbonated energy drinks.
Don’t think you’ll get away with it.
The teachers already know,
About flicking elastic bands at the backs of girls knees,
So they scream a little louder
And turn around to see
Boys smirking faces,
Because they have been there before.
Define originality.
Originality
. /əˌrɪdʒɪˈnalɪti/
noun
1. the ability to think independently and creatively.
•the quality of being novel or unusual
synonyms: inventiveness, creativeness, creativity, innovativeness, innovation, novelty, freshness, newness, imagination, break with tradition, resourcefulness, cleverness, daring, individuality, unusualness, unprecedentedness, uniqueness, distinctiveness
.
Is it smuggling ***** in water bottles,
Or sneaking down to the back garden
To have one last cigarette with your friends,
At 1am
On New Years
When you have had more to drink than your parents
Yet you are only 15.
Watering down whiskey from your parents liqueur cabinet
With apple juice.
Getting caught drunk
After being out with friends, Stumbling in at 2am
On Sunday morning.
Storming up to your room
After having a row with your parents.
Slamming the door,
Screaming at the floor,
Calling a friend,
And ******** about the people who brought you into this world.
Maybe
I’m not as good with words
Than I thought I was
O r i g i n a l i t y I s D e a d
Your parents Grandparents
Aunties and uncles
Have seen it all before
It’s a fact of growing up
And one day
You will too know
Exactly how it is
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC
mortality's taste is bittersweet
as death's brush paints life's new lease
impressionistic could haves, should haves, would haves
minimalist suprematism shapes dreams
surrealistic hopes
time's urgency hammered home by temporal clarity
top 10 lists glazed to topography
as future blends to present amid trees
a familiar CICU
a family gathering
beds with tubes and wires
monitors flashing and beeping
refreshing past's distance
with updated parking prices
will the ending be the same?
May 31, 2010
May 31, 2010 at 1:22 PM UTC
a list of things to do "when it feels like the hands on your clock have arthritis"
1. put on your diffuser, put in lavender essential oil, remember that this is what waiting for her smells like
2. go for a walk, but not where the two of you used to walk together, try not to think of how you two used to match your pace with every step
3. do not call her, call your best friend, do not think of how you would rather be calling her and ignoring the very people who are trying to support you
4. play music, but do not put it on shuffle, and do not think about how you would so much rather be listening to the playlist she made and then updated the day you started dating
5. write a poem, but ignore how every poem you write in the collection that has become your every day life still leads back to her
6. do not cry, you have already shed enough tears over someone who can ignore you
7. if you do start to cry, say it is because of your dad, or your work load, or because it is raining and you just have never really been able to enjoy the rain, do not admit that she has the strings to your heart and somehow you are still a puppet
8. make yourself a cup of tea, sit down, and let yourself feel, remember that even if it feels like the hands on the clock have arthritis, slow progress is still progress, you are whole and time will pass
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 4:06 PM UTC
I wrote a poem titled “Autobiography” about
four years ago- I wrote about how I was born
prematurely, about how I worried which aspects
of my parents I’d inherited. I wrote about how
I dressed, my favorite colors, and my irrational fears.
Other parts addressed some insecurities, my
introversion, and my girlfriend (at the time).
All of these things still hold truth to my character,
they will forever be engrained in the fiber of my being.
But I feel like that autobiography needs to be updated.
That worked for me four years ago, but I was much,
much younger then. I was young and hopeful, you
could even say naive. I knew nothing of the pain
that I would one day harbor in my heart, I knew
nothing of the anger I was to be consumed with.
There’s a part of me that wishes I could tell that
younger version of me- maybe prepare him for what
is to come. But even given the opportunity, I’m not sure
that I could truly convey what to be prepared for.
But we’ll chalk up my pain to character development,
and hope that one day, when I revisit my autobiography
again, I’ll look back on this chapter with a smile on
my face and the scabs on my heart scarred over.
I hope I continue to write my story and that I have
people still willing to listen to my words.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 6:29 PM UTC