"ventilation" poems
Overwhelming mental congestion for perfection,
Socially influenced blueprints of future attraction.
Constructive criticism given by construction workers,
The labor of family and friends for reassurance.
A solid foundation of first impressions,
Structured walls of growth and development.
Insulation of natural feelings and experiences,
Ventilation to cool down the heated encounters.
Electrical wiring of an emotional and physical connection,
A circuitry of passion and romance with a light switch.
Hardwood flooring for candle lit dinners and ballroom dancing,
Granite kitchen counters for intimate midnight snacks.
An attractive exterior siding to woo the public eye,
A secure lock of commitment on all the doors.
A roof of trust, and a picket fence,
And now, my love,
I’m simply yours.
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
girlworm, you grab a wrist like you've known modesty in the shyness of a bare feeling gripped tight on the one offering it
tightrope fingers falling into the spaces of unspoken territory, slipping into familiar qualms like the worn lipsticks that fits the grooves of my lips like an object of my affection
knowing the contour of what i'm never aware of
anxieties creep like an overgrown lawn
these fears personifying into antsy women invading my kitchen telling me that there's not enough ventilation and the stove is on leaking gas into the baby lungs of a young smoker
and when i begin to argue they give both a look of sympathy and disgust as they say "oh child you drown so easily"
so i sit chewing my nails as i count the birds outside flying back and forth from their post as if they can't remember where they're going towards or if there's something that could possibly pull them elsewhere
my mind swirls in the smoothie of a plastic cup that sticks to the coffee table, the rings of different bottles painting circles for me to memorize again
my paradise sits with the roughness of his knuckles and the ambiguity of eyes that could know everything and i would set fire to the stars inside because of the jealousy that grows from pretty things being smoldered under skin
when i begin to lose my person, pale and shivering i go towards it
empty stomached and ready to be buried in the clothes of her
that i can imagine becoming the consistency of yogurt in my lap
kissing back my tremors as i lift up her hair from curious shoulders
dry-heaving the importance of the cheeks that feel warmer as they settle on hands that are brought together as if in deep prayer and i know i will collect myself again one day
girlworm, you're a swarm in my chest and i am me
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 11:50 PM UTC
Manual stimulation for my electrified mind,
Proper ventilation cools down my insides.
To call it ************ would deny its true nature,
You can't rub it out if it's only on paper.
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 10:35 AM UTC
I remember once I farted, in a packed lift,
My two cheeks really parted, if you get my drift
I almost had a heart attack, the sound was so clear,
It was indeed a mighty crack, that everyone could hear.
Now everyone turned red, but I was really blessed
as nothing more was said, I presumed no one had guessed.
Some looked at their feet, others at the wall
But no pair of eyes did meet, no one looked at me at all.
But no one could deny there was an awful hum
And I had to wonder why I was cursed with such a ***
Dear God, it was bad, worse than ever before
Was it the curry I had? I will not eat it any more.
On no! this can’t be happening, I felt my two cheeks part
This one much more sickening, what some would call a “shart”
Though I tried to look innocent, as detached as I could be
I knew what those looks meant and they were directed at me
We all held our breath, no one dared to breathe
We all faced certain death if the smell did not recede
We all wanted the top floor which was thirty stories high.
Would someone open the door or would we all be left to die
Thank God for ventilation, it really saved the day
For in case of flatulation it will take the smell away
Well I was so relieved, it was quite a close call
And I would not have believed what happened next at all
The lift it just stopped dead, a million to one chance
I thought I’d lose my head but instead I filled my pants.
I learned one thing that day, well at least it keeps me happy
I won’t get in a lift, No Way! without first putting on a *****
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 3:43 AM UTC
*It feels much like suffocation
In a room with ventilation.*
- (A.F)
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 3:35 AM UTC
I always imagined
I'm on the beach,
watching the waves roll in from your long hair booth,
seagulls flying on a sailing ship,
o it flies between the two of us
who are running around
looking for *****
on the shore
which turns out
to be close to the beach.
My lips,
so salty sweat
and sea water add happiness there.
I saw the sun rising
and setting in our e y e s,
which turned out to be a s i g n,
I needed to learn
to love the lost dusk
and also the dawn that came.
I saw the fishermen
who came
and then left
and that was my
h e art
that was anchored in the old wharf which turned out to be quiet and
l one ly,
and was your h e art there too?
I always imagined
we forget names,
forget places,
but don't forget to go home.
Or perhaps, this is another option.
I always imagined
we were in a house in a cool village, where the rice fields were green and wide,
so vast that our l ove was never measured.
The chirping of birds will always be heard
and answered so s w e e t l y
from tree branches
whose leaves are thick and shady; every time you
and
I wake up.
From the windows and ventilation aisles,
sunlight e n t e r s to warm our cold bodies shivering all night
because of the
r
a
i
n
and
s t o r m s
that never subside,
even though we have spent the night with various kinds of hugs
that are not the same.
Even I always imagined
you are there
when I imagined good things,
maybe when you are not by my side and I feel it is not something that feels good.
I always imagined
that I really love you.
And you really love me too.
O, I always imagined it all
when I see you smile every time
I have a bad day, and you said, everything
must
be
easy
for
you
to
go
through.
I imagined that, while writing this poem.
Aug 8, 2021
Aug 8, 2021 at 11:25 AM UTC
My room has five walls
(and yes, I am not counting the ceiling).
Wall one!
It is the one with door which opens only from the inside.
So you gotta knock first to get in.
Advance apologies; You might not be entertained.
Wall two!
A window, the oldschool metaphor for freedom
with its thin iron grills and a broken pane
now serves ventilation purpose.
Wall three!
Useless it may seem, but this one is the most equipped.
With its big pale switch board crucified on it;
This walls commands the life here.
Wall four!
The proof of my existence,
this wall holds the old photographs with the pride of an artist.
I hate looking at this wall;
“Staring directly at sun may cause damage to the retina.”
Wall five!
This one is my favourite.
I could doodle over it again and again
and then hide behind the screen of my laptop.
Facebook! It’s funny to think about sometimes.
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 4:43 AM UTC
Like a kindled fire it smokes
Upon the wood it grows
With no ventilation it chokes
Turning thy friends to foes
From thy tongue in thy cheek the flames doth crack
With the empty words we billow
Tears of sap seep with each fiery snap
As we burn the weeping willow
Withdraw the wood from thy furnace
And if the charred remains ever smolder
Then inward thy glare must turneth
For these flames shall make thee ever colder
May 16, 2021
May 16, 2021 at 12:38 AM UTC
i tried forgetting you so hard
my liver's collapsing
& i've got these bruises & cuts -
contusions & concussions -
from my aggravation, concentrated
on the wrong people in crowded places
but we all need ventilation.
so i spilled out abuse
on whoever was willing to take it,
combining fists with faces -
call it distraction or entertainment,
whichever way you phrase it,
i won't remember...i was wasted -
i was swimming in liquid sentiments
the backstroke of the blind
as i'm blacking out my mind,
turning off the lights
on the portion of my life
you partially defined.
Mar 3, 2010
Mar 3, 2010 at 8:30 PM UTC
I have a dream
from which I refuse to wake
holding on to it so tight
that my reality is slowly fading
what drives me now
is what I see behind closed eyes
Titles do not impress me
what you do for a living
your bank balance or your car
the number of likes
or your amount of followers
these are lies that you regurgitate
to yourself that you've made it
self-approval for mediocrity
my question to you?
what does your heart ache for?
the more you focus on your dreams
the more the nine-to-five
only living for the weekend
paying bills
occasional holiday ********
becomes a sad existence on repeat
is this it?
each time i ask myself this crucial question
the lyrics from a song
the artist and title unknown to me
keeps ringing in my head
"there's gotta be more to life
than chasing this temporary high"
sadly I judge others
that doesn't see the world like I do
that fills their dreams with excuses
but I cannot be angry with them
since my life as it is now
is not what I wish it to be
as the bible say
"let he who is without sin
cast the first stone"
I have my head in the clouds
and my feet cemented to the ground
every part of my being
wants to throw caution to the wind
but whispers of doubt
painstakingly reminds me
I have studied so long
worked so hard
for this career
that is slowly
******* the life out of me
like a dying patient
hooked up on ventilation machines
who's heart is slowly giving up
each time I silently scream
do not resuscitate
i sadly ignore my own plea
and the shock of my responsibilities
brings me back... to this reality
and yet
I still have a dream
from which I refuse to wake
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 4:50 PM UTC
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Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 10:36 AM UTC
Stop battering her mind by invasions
of your curious cultural perversions
Get out of her way I tell you for god sake.
She needs quietude
To come out of her servitude
to repair and restore her aptitude
In the balm and calm of solitude
Her dome is broken with throbs
torn yarns spasm derobes
With velocity escape to infinity
Due to your ferocious felinity
She needs peace to space walk
To gather the ruffled rob safe back
So leave her alone I tell you
As if she were in ICU
She needs silence to settle
Down to revive her mettle
with rarer precious metals
Cement her mental pieces
Mind can swoop down with trough
Ride on a rough wave's crest
Pat and pacify with suavity
bring back the halo from infinity
zero down the hero with unity,
from a state of KD
rejuvenate the PD
Back to an ambience of 3D
So Leave her alone I tell you
Let her bleed, perspire in despire
If mind willing, desire compelling
Let it prepare her self, to repair itself
the broken respiration sighs
With high waves of neighs
conspires to set in her scattred inspiration
To the errected pyre of desperation
Asunder to cinder and surrender.
Let the fire embrace her to scintillation
In a catalystic ambiance of ventilation
Mix and suffix with whirling flame
To phoenix her into a healing dame.
For god sake leave her alone I tell you..
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 2:45 PM UTC
In the darkness
I find my way to a chair,
worn cushion,
and splintering.
The uncovered nails dig into the back of my calf.
Theres a click and a bright light that shines on a desk.
I squint.
There is a man sitting in front of me.
Bloated,
wrinkled,
and silver haired.
His swollen sausage fingers with yellowed chipped nails
are neatly knitted together on the table beside his coffee.
His teeth are yellow too.
Jagged and crooked beneath his cracking lips
and sunken deep into his skull,
just as his eyes are
like a bear in a cave,
deep brown,
warm,
but fierce and strong
staring at me.
I shift uncomfortably in the chair
as he sips his coffee from a styrofoam cup.
I notice it may too bitter for his taste.
He scrunches his nose,
which wrinkles his forehead,
his eyebrows tangle in the middle.
Time passes by. I adjust to the lighting and find a somewhat comfy spot in the chair.
Then I become uncomfortable in ways that can't be settled.
His mouth opened,
white tongue rolls out
a stale breath flows out
with his thick heavy gargled words.
I nearly choked
for the small enclosed room had little ventilation.
He questioned me
of who I was,
what I've done,
what will I do.
His words surrounded me,
stared down on my small little body.
I tried to hide behind my long black hair
but I know my green eyes glowed through the gaps.
I could not hide
who I was,
what I've been through,
my unpredictableness.
It reeked through my pores
and danced with mischief in my eyes.
My tears streamed
and his words did not pause.
He wouldn't stop until I responded.
And eventually I muttered out,
"I will never stop."
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 12:15 AM UTC
Old prophets ride on balloons
with their noses above their beards
Poking into and stirring around affairs
like my stunted grandfather
with his finger in a pine bush
stirring up the bird that nested there.
The moaning of the prophets became
The growling of a caged cheeseburger
Long snouted, glaring up at me
From its jail cell hole in the floor,
Which was the ventilation grate.
My grandfather hunted him
In full John Wayne regalia
Stalking among the mesas and plateau
Of 1970's afghan covered furniture sets
Which were the desert of his crust.
The bedentured coffee cup fell of the shelf
and broke and shattered, from that
The schnoz'd cheeseburger left,
Yes he retreated down the vent.
Which was the liberation of my dreams
Tobacco stuck to grandfather's boots
It was pungent and potent but
also diabetic and diabolic.
Some family thinks it killed him
Which was the excuse behind my punishment
The prophets balloon's
Their threads were cut
and they crashed into a pine bush
stirring up the bird that nested there.
Which was my grandfather's spirit.
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 8:15 PM UTC
please teach me quantum mechanics and the way particles of light move through space
i am begging you to lecture me on your views of hedonism, nihilism, and every kind of-ism you can think of
grab me by the hips and pull me in close,
lean in and let me feel your hot breath, and kiss the tales of all kinds of fiction stories onto words on my neck
i want to be taught every kind of thing i dont already know
and well versed in every type of poetry out there
allow me to digress, if only momentarily, the gravitational pull of the situation at hand
my heart is aching in a different form tonight
my thoughts move from place to place
just like an indecisive snake
the dawning of not achieving expectations
of where i want to be
if only modest ones
have calls to action
not beautiful, where do i go from here?
i have stored up hatred among the jarred feelings i cannot express
i cannot even admit them
to myself
i recognize that i feel a certain way but i do not accept;
this method of expression is my sole form of ventilation
i’m shouting out into the skies,
pedaling on my bicycle
i cant find my feelings anywhere
they arent where they are supposed to be
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 2:19 PM UTC
Bleeding eclipse splatters anguish, scorching frozen terrain
Reservoir transmits despair, vaporizing humid remains
Noxious fumes plague ventilation, incinerating methane mutilates
Inhumane detonations ignite smog, dismembering shrapnel decimates
Bombardments stimulate hallucinations, assailants discharge magazines
Incendiaries barrage trenches, vulnerability flourishes disease
Artilleries eject carnage, atrocious quarantine impedes retreat
Projectiles massacre infantry, heinous airstrike parries deceit
Howitzer impersonates tempest, kamikaze technique revealed
Nautical battleships converge, perilous adversaries concealed
Submarines launch torpedoes, oblivious warships sealed doom
Submersed submersibles clash, claustrophobic vessels entomb
Drowning agony crushes depths, forsaken lagoon transforms necropolis
Aquatic daemons consume decrepit, infernal torment surrenders providence
Condemned mortals cauterize compassion, genocide exterminates consciousness
Snorkeling corpses mound topside, eradicated infestation forfeited holocaust
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 8:26 PM UTC
I don’t want to write poetry
I want to bottle the essence of
The vast inner-workings of the universe
And give it to you for free
I don’t charge money for my philosophy
I couldn’t be pushed to look at you
Unless it was deep in your eyes
And swallowing the words you speak
Digesting their meanings and subtle
Ironies
The inconsistencies of your desires and your actions
Are like diamond dust on my tongue
Tears upon realizing your forgotten pain
Fermenting and sloshing around in that
Hidden belly of depth
The intense turmoil, the rapturous escape
Blend them on slow so that I may see
Your blues and reds trace fingerprints of
Purple across the glass
Oh and the times where you forgot
Something important,
And your heart skips a beat and your hair stands
A little
Your face flushes, oh the pinks
And once you find it,
In my arms
I was waiting the whole time
Impatiently at moments
But all the while,
I just longed to drink up your sighs of relief
Your giddy smiles piling joy after joy within me
And those moments where you are about to fall asleep
And you **** awake suddenly,
Your eyes, still distant and dreamy
And the slow release as you lay back down
On my chest
And I don’t care that my arm went numb 15 minutes ago
As long as I don’t disturb you
The things I do for love
Or more like..
The things I do because I love
But I’m still here
No doubt, lonely and without
Any proper ventilation
For my soul is gaseous and restless
My thoughts are emaciated and
And my feelings are callused and unbending
I sometimes, don’t feel anything any more
And that is what I fear,
That I may shrivel, haven’t created even a fraction
Of this dream
This highly unrealistic yet truthful dream in which
Some form of power, even in fibers and threads
Pulls my chin up to gaze in wonder
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 4:04 PM UTC
Are you looking for a solution
To whatever aches and pains might ail you?
During a night of TV viewing
You'll find something that should not fail you.
Linzess might stop your belly pain
Or discomfort from your constipation.
(Just be sure to open a window
To provide some needed ventilation.)
Feeling nerve pain? Then try Lyrica--
Unless you suffer from arthritis.
If that's the case you need Humira.
But that won't help your laryngitis.
Some ads say Abilify
Will help you if you have depression.
But watch out if you start displaying
Bizarre, unexplained aggression.
If atrial fibrillation has you
Feeling somewhat out of sorts,
Maybe Eliquis will help you.
Be careful, though, when playing sports.
Feeling dry eye? There's Restasis.
Muscle ache? Then try Aleve.
But they won't help with COPD;
To think so would be so naïve.
For that you'll need some Symbicort.
But what if you have (gulp!) E-D?
Or B-P-H? Then there's Cialis;
But don't expect a guarantee.
For type 2 diabetes there is
Farxiga--just one a day.
But that does NOT mean you can hit
The pastry shop and eat away.
For if you do you'll need some Nexium--
Yes, that little purple pill--
For acid reflex isn't fun,
And Zantac might not fit the bill.
If menopausal hot flashes
Are totally driving you insane,
Brisdelle should give you relief,
But do not take it with champagne.
With all these drugs we can't go wrong.
For everything there is a cure
Or relief from pesky, nagging symptoms;
But read the label to be sure.
Because of the possible side effects
Of all the drugs that you might be taking,
Be sure that you have considered the risks
And done some careful decision-making.
Watch for rashes, swelling, blood clots,
Gas, nausea, lung infections,
Diarrhea, stomach pains,
Four-hour plus erections,
Heart failure, thoughts of suicide,
Impaired judgment, shortness of breath,
Change in moods, drop in blood pressure,
Loss of consciousness, coma, or death.
- by Bob B
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 5:34 PM UTC
A construed connection
The dampness of my soul
Glistening on his declared, steady skin
Repelling my dripping grasp
My slippery infection
Now, somehow
slithering to a ripe apifany
An intricate abnormality
That is me
A remodeled intellect, grasping for fresh ventilation
Panting in all the raw air
My quivering inhales, so pathetic
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 7:37 PM UTC
Pieces of fabric
swell around my arm
tourniquet bound and
stitched
from the lining of the journal,
exploding in heart shaped stars.
Ventilation
Convulsed laughter
while our eyes didn't quite meet
[long enough]
smiles reciprocate
anyway.
That day a barnstorm
like birds, in high-rise
oak trees, fueled flowers
in garden cradles.
verbiage eaten...
the eventual supper.
Essence of leather
knuckle bound, writing.
I taught you in different chords
a world that retains your
fragile hands.
The crescent shaped
impact on your cheek,
ring on your left
middle finger glistened
downstream
lighting the way
to my words.
If I had to break,
our cheeks turned,
curling up between
book pages,
and markers that left
stories and towers
taller than mountains.
Ears cuffed with maddening
silence, a distraction
to shut it out.
Mercy, whatever it takes
to cease the personality
of "I'm already lost"
you can keep the change,
and peace.
They say dusk holds on
until the day is born.
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 9:17 PM UTC
******* in a paper bag
towel doubled as a rag
suitcase holding treasured randoms
and notebooks filled with cryptic tandems
very little ventilation
and an unclaimed mess that's hated
sacred corner on the desk
the rest a "collage:" a mess
mirror mirror on the wall
tells the truth, leaves me appalled
thin covering on the ground
worn where almost all is brown
hand-me-down pillow case smeared with liner
and the tears from last night's crier
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 1:12 PM UTC
Ventilation shaft
aft.
Fresh air pumped out in a flash.
Upon crash dive a bell will sound, hold
tight
we're going underground.
Like moles who wish to buck the trend
I wish the constant night would end,
these tunnels that we make..
..me laugh.
Ventilation?
Call it gas.
****** in, trucked out, this is what life's all about, shifting shadows shape us into that which is the late
us.
Fluid chains of ether either here or in Ibiza,
ventilation from the shaft?
or just the same old laughing gas?
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 7:55 PM UTC
One wall of a cold cement cell is missing
And all of the prisoners stare out into the open,
Into the searing light.
Into the tinge of air
Unperfumed with the sweat of sleep.
Overhead, the florescent light
So sickly fluttering,
The pale blue luminescence with not even a lie of heat,
is dominated.
The prisoners squint into the light of the world beyond their lonely cell.
Crushed together,
Shoulder to shoulder
without room to move an arm to scratch an itch.
Noses that held the raw scent of ammonia
are teased with the prospect of being washed clean with the scents of animals
dirt
and manure.
Their tense shoulders relax
and the cell releases a sigh
into the world.
A lung holding stale air
for way too long
finally gets to breathe.
A smile crescents their faces,
and with whole hearted contentment
they watch
as brick
by
brick
The wall is rebuilt.
The single brick layer's back is dropped with sweat
of the sun bearing down.
The prisoners are smeared with prespiration
of sleeping too long with no ventilation.
Without a goodbye,
the world is gone
and the prisoners have already forgotten about it.
Jan 13, 2010
Jan 13, 2010 at 9:41 PM UTC