"verbalized" poems
I can't deny it anymore.
I am in love with you.
I didn't fall mind you.
I chose this.
I chose you.
And I can't help but feel
that I have chosen wrong.
That I have chosen too soon.
And it didn't help
that you chose me as your beta.
As your apprentice.
As your most trusted photographer.
Didn't help
that you nursed
all of my fangirl tendencies.
Didn't help that you claimed
to be my alpha,
my coach,
my captain.
Didn't help that you made me feel
like it is just the two of us in the pack.
Didn't help that you
verbalized my feelings
and told me
there is only us in the crew.
That I am your first mate.
The co-captain of a ship
That only the two of us can set sail.
The only thing is...
I am the only one shipping us.
And one day, you'll go canon
with someone else.
And believe me darling,
those canons can sink our ship.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 10:32 AM UTC
I guess you could call me
a people addict;
I live for the exchanges,
momentary or prolonged,
the satisfaction of smiles substituted for
verbalized salutations;
the how-you-do's and hello's,
the pleasantries of chit chat,
talk of my oh my, I am not ready for this snow
and how was your holiday?;
catching a supposed-to-be-sneaked glance from that tasty
stranger,
allowing your eyes to meet for longer than
you meant to;
a compliment that drips off the lips so sweet,
its nectar invading the taste buds for hours
on end;
individualized or multiplied,
I relish in the conjugated haze,
in the gazes and the giggles,
in the potential formulation of inside jokes,
in a have a good day to a grin I will never see again,
the whirlwind of vowels and consonants,
of coincidences and sarcasm,
of the impressions we may leave of which
we will never be aware;
I crave the mundane,
I get high off the monotony,
I am swallowed by the simplicity;
Yeah,
I guess you could call me a
people addict,
and I'm cool with that.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 5:20 PM UTC
Nouns verbalized
Like how nature composed wind
So we could feel something
The words rolled off our tongues tied
Did they make you feel something?
1st boy
His golden irises reflected
A sinful abyss
I fell in too deep
The magnetic field got too strong
I could swear on a Bible that it was
Love that i felt
But only the universe would know.
2nd boy
His hand found mine
In miserable wreckage
Rebound
I hit the ground hard
I promised myself
"No feelings"
But only the universe would know.
May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 4:21 AM UTC
There you were:
Second to last track
Side 1, “Atlantic Soul Classics”.1987
R.E.S.P.E.C.T. (Take out the TCP)
The power, the control, the energy,
Never heard a **** thing like it.
Then that Cliff Richard Show footage I saw on some old BBC clip show (yeah, I know…Cliff, eh?)
“Don’t Play That Song” in crackly black & white
Sorry for the language, Sister.. but **** the power of your piano playing in that moment made me realise that you were not “just a singer” but a full-on force to be reckoned with.
Like Sinatra you studied lyrics like a monk deep in illumination and then blew the song away with your received otherworldly knowledge:
Eleanor Rigby
The Weight
The Dark End of The Street
Border Song
Bridge Over Troubled Water
I Say A Little Prayer
Oh, these were your songs, now. Don’t let anyone forget it.
But there was something more to you than all of this.
The way MLK kissed you with beaming pride at some long, forgotten award ceremony.
The way you sashayed African culture when you stepped out in public.
The way you ripped up your own records when you tread the boards & faced your humbled audience.
The way you stood by Angela Davis when she was hooked up on some stupid jackshit Hoover charge.
The way you verbalized the black American experience not just through countless moments of sheer liberation but in the solemn way you stepped up to the piano on Amazing Grace
You comforted this whiter-than-white Paddy on more than one occasion and forged a path of hope in many of his troubled waters.
Oh, God we will miss you & your power – all of it.
That once in a millennia voice whose measured restraint & joyful release touched millions.
You will never walk alone.
Farewell Queen.
You are finally at peace.
Thank you, thank you Ms. Franklin
Sean M. O’Kane
16/8/18
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 5:21 PM UTC
If you tell gold it's worthless,
It might believe you.
But does saying that
Make it true?
Is worth defined
By what's verbalized?
If you criticize
Does worth minimize?
Words are words,
Not always true.
But gold is gold!
And you are you.
Don't weigh your worth
On what you're told.
Despite it's value
Even some dislike gold.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 11:53 AM UTC
I've got my opinions as any other;
Hopefully, I'll be clear and you'll understand
that our silent words are useless -
For the trees will willingly clap their hands.
The one true God spoke into existence
the birds, fishes, plants, mammals, Earth
and all forms of life including...
Humble beginnings of Mankind's birth.
The sound of our individual voices
is something that God covets and enjoys;
He wants our unadulterated praise verbalized
with heartfelt, cheerful, and celebratory noise.
Our real outward expressions of faith
for acknowledging His holy ways
can only be accomplished via...
Sincere, loving and audible praise.
So open your mouth during Church worship
and praise Him without doubt!
For your silent words are useless -
Causing even the rocks... to cry out.
Author Note:
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Apr 19, 2012
Apr 19, 2012 at 3:51 PM UTC
The description of my affliction grasps the friction of a worthy depiction to my addiction in a position feeling the infliction of my minds worst prediction..
Unleashed skeletons distinguished in the flight of pelicans severing the embellishing of savored intelligence longing for sweet repentance revealing relief that goes the distance..
Searching for clarity that never ending morality my mind takes on high hilarity in the crushed arms of polarity assembling the modularity of my brain screws in chastity releasing all of the bottled-in charity of my restless audacity...
As all that's buried beneath takes turn within my rocky caverns that burn I release my tactiturn of the aches and pains the spurn I've been able to learn bounty of my earn comes to term as I yearn for freedom of silent concern if I can disinfect this germ like cleansing the embodiment of the smoked sherm I will be clear of the uncoiled fern slithering about as a pristine worm..
Deeply inside my head I've swum like the graceful swan in the pond that I come to grow fond classified the demimond upon no formed bond twisting my thoughts my top has spun uncontrollably making me dumb my darkest secrets tucked in the gun behind the chamber of obligated fun partaking of the glazeless bun that's so scrumptious to my tum tum I can never find riddance playing the war drum but if I fail now my utterance is done now if all coincide with my tone I may finally speak out and be gone...
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
i feel myself slipping through the wind
unleashing my soul within
eyes leak in memory of you
and forgive myself for being the fool
i have no urge to scream
this pain cannot be mended by any means
who knew emptiness turns out to fill us with the worst of pain
pain that cannot be verbalized in any sentence or phrase
the closest it's had to having an explanation was in the tears we've shed
there's nothing about it that could be said
no one ever understands until they feel it
until they found the love that once made them feel sick
i stand here now, arms raised to my sides
no love, no pain, and no anger to hide
and now i know, finally, for just a few moments atleast,
how it feels to let my soul be free.
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 6:31 AM UTC
These entities are unable to be verbalized
the most pleasurable
the most relaxing
I fall asleep to them
but avoid them in conversation.
maybe if I hold my tongue
wet and sandy
you’ll forget the topic.
the world of ***** gum
and cortexes
cannot meet
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 4:42 PM UTC
Honestly, let's face facts;
We all should care for one another as we are but don’t—
Aren’t we all headed towards a plot, six feet deep?
I never understood why a woman wears make-up—
Are you making a cover up for your insecurities?
Are you making yourself available for the he said she said?
Or was there a moment in your life someone said
You were less than beautiful?
And if such a statement was verbalized,
Let me reassure you that you are beautiful and no one can take that away.
Honestly, let's face facts;
We all should care for one another as we are but don’t—
Aren’t we all headed towards a plot, six feet deep?
I never understood why a man clenches so tight to his pride—
Are you that afraid of what you encompass inside?
Are you making pretentious decisions to impress the next window shopper?
Or was there a moment in your life someone said
You were less than a man?
And if such statement was verbalized,
Let me reassure you that you are only the man you decide to be and no one can take that away.
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 5:53 PM UTC
I remember when I didn't like your boyfriend and you said that I couldn't tell him I hated him anymore because he was important to you.
You were never apparent enough because you never told me that I wasn't.
The days always dragged on and we would commiserate on the lack of family.
We were never a family.
But it was always my fault, wasn't it?
Solitary nights, I found myself accompanied by the ticking of an alarm clock made of metal that wasn't quite as cold as your heart.
I spent those nights alone brainstorming efficacious ways to **** the pain but I never got too long of a list. Mainly it consisted of picking up a blade.
You never noticed the pencil sharpeners suddenly missing. You never noticed that I only wore long sleeves, even during the summer. Now that I think of it, you never really noticed anything. But I can't really blame you when you were never home to see it.
I remember wondering why you loved him so much. The scent of alcohol constant on his breathe, quick with his words like sharpened scissors. Your sword turned into a shield made of paper. Fire and fire, but I was the one who got burned. I never understood why he loved you either.
I remember when I came home from school and the boxes were stacked to the ceiling with his name printed neatly on the sides. I thought maybe you two had another fight, but it wasn't that at all. It was me.
"I can't deal with that for another four years!" he shouted.
It was ME...
But even when he left nothing changed. In fact, I think it got worse.
I remember screaming at you that you made me want to **** myself. I remember it because I was shaking, tears rolling down my cheeks. It was the first time I had ever verbalized something like that. And with such anger and pain, but mostly fear.
You didn't hit me though. You didn't pull my hair like I thought you might. Instead you grabbed your car keys and you didn't come home for awhile.
I remember sinking to the floor, back against the wall. I cried for a bit and held myself. Mostly because I knew you wouldn't. You never did. I never wanted much, but maybe I asked for more than you could give.
Every day in that house, I felt unwanted. Alone.
Unimportant. Unappreciated. Unloved.
You were never a parent enough because you never told me that I wasn't.
-k.d.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 12:30 PM UTC
you were so beautiful, and miserable.
powerful, and vulnerable. remarkable, incredible.
you will be remembered for ages as the
gorgeous blonde with stars in her eyes,
a voice so soft and sweet when she verbalized,
the woman who seemed to ooze with confidence
and beauty, with everything she would do or say,
the woman that everyone wanted to be in the 60s, and still
do to this very day.
you wrote beautiful poetry,
you were so much more than what the eye could see
or the dumb blondes you played in movies, or on tv,
or the minds of small minded people.
you're a timeless beauty,
you're an inspiration to me.
without a doubt,
you were beautiful,and remarkable
inside and out.
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC
Surround me with your mimicry and float me to the sky
And like a mirror I'll reflect the world within my eye
As colors fill the black and white, extremities are gone
Replaced by all the shades I've seen while traveling along
The thoughts I breathe provide the air upon which I have sailed
The very ones I verbalized, the ones that I exhaled
My head is light and in a daze I contemplate the past
The moments that have led to this and whether I would last
Outnumbered by the reasons why and things I can't explain
My tongue begins to atrophy, my body's sick with pain
In choking I release a cough that empties out my chest
And slowly I am hollowed out by what I had repressed
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 1:39 PM UTC
[Click]
“–eacher’s first time on our show, the preacher’s first time on public access. He’s here to talk to you about our history, and forgotten past. We welcome The Hermit of Marlowe, for our Sermon of the Week. All Rise.”
Influenced by the Worth of Words
I took a trip to write in France
I have come back to now inter
The Spirit of Romance:
There once were times of eloquence
When words were bought and sold in pence
Their quantity was so immense
But what have you all done?
Uphold the discourse, that you swore
‘though from her bitter grasp you tore
The beauty that you must abhor
Where has her meaning gone?
The time is nigh, you must repent
Begin your verbalized dissents
We gave words death in cent and tense
What happens at the dawn?
What does our future have in store?
A zeitgeist’s language unadorned
The pen is mightier than the sword,
But what about the gun?
[Click]
Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 6:14 PM UTC
i saw a half-dead man
at the butcher shop;
he ordered half a kilo chicken,
with half a voice;
his eyes, bloodshot,
sliced open like
the chicken’s clucking throat,
and surveyed the butcher’s knife
for traces of humanity:
i don’t presume he found any.
the butcher verbalized an
unofficial bill of transaction:
the man paid with a 100,
and a 50 -
he was offered a 20 in return
by the butcher, who pressed
a ****** fingerprint on the note,
at the denomination.
the man reached for it…
but retracted halfway,
and said,
‘keep the change’.
Jan 11, 2025
Jan 11, 2025 at 1:58 AM UTC
I cannot say how many suicidal soliloquies or
diatribes of dialogue I have veraciously verbalized
towards the stark stare looking back at me
from my own reflection.
The cold calculating eyes piercing, penetrating
a completely cumbersome set of armor
deliberately designed, ironically, to protect
those forlorn, forgotten windows to the soul.
Windows, once reliably radiating with life and love,
only now to be desolate, dark.
Alone.
Abandoned.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 10:22 AM UTC
there is a language
that has no words
and when it's quiet
i learn its vocabulary with you
there's a structure without tense
in the way we lose ourselves in time
the present quickly becomes past
so what's the use in saying things like
what was, what is, what will be--
we are and we will and our heartbeats
are loud enough to drown out the clock
there's a statement without sound
and a destined kind of dialogue
between your hands and mine
because we shape hopes and fears
born out of our old battle scars--
but intertwined, our hands lose spaces
and suddenly, there's no distance
between your lips and mine
there's a message without medium
and we don't understand
how communication transcends
how nothing is verbalized
lingua francas aside, we are
speaking in this silence
there is a language
that has no words
though it might have a name
i think i'll call it love.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 8:23 PM UTC
People are hard to analyze,
With the angry way they talk and act ,
Though you have committed no offense against them,
Is this behavior geneticaly just a fact?
My mind cannot understand at all,
Their attitudes so hostile,
You think one could self restrain,
But for most that's just not possible,
Retaliation must be verbalized,
They cannot just refrain,
An unnesasary audible word shoots forth,
Exploding from in their brain,
Over some word or act misunderstood,
But too it they MUST respond,
When the best action they could have taken,
Would have been to just let it alone,
But they will not self restrain,
They are not willing to digress,
The only explanation I can find,
Is they want a fight I guess.
RLB
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 8:45 AM UTC
Think nothing of water which percolates,
Liquid evaporates.
Such are the forms trapped within themselves,
Meaningless rotes.
By formlessness corporeal,
But with materiality intangible.
Forlorn immolation;
Condensates re-saturate, only different.
Incongruent crystallization;
And they say there is change!
By factors invariant,
But with sums nonconstant.
A laugh is a laugh, verbalized or written -
It's still the same fundamentally.
Tears are tears, dribbled or scribbled -
It's still the same in essentiality.
By elements unproposed,
But with totalities nonexistent.
May 23, 2025
May 23, 2025 at 2:49 AM UTC
because i hope to absorb something i can't quite touch
a dream you wake up with in the back of your throat
clawing, scratching
to be verbalized into
a plan
a place to point your feet.
my flat will be painted red and covered in
tastefully
or maybe distastefully
**** art ,
and i will look out the window and think
the only thing i really need is myself.
Oct 11, 2011
Oct 11, 2011 at 2:06 AM UTC
I lost myself for a second,
for a fractal of a moment
as I stared wide eyed,
gooey and awed at the
artists on the altar of performance.
My perception crystallized,
specters of my past self
salivating at what my fingers
longed for;
spoken word and snapping fingers.
At the connection of my life to theirs,
at the links of my past mistakes
to the handcuffs of the present of exoneration,
at written art and verbalized
conceptual imagination
from the depths of my mind to the
comfort of our living room of breathing
similes and metaphors,
of alliteration and repetition that emphasize
the triggering bombs louder than our thumps
will ever get to.
I lost my self for a second,
to the rhythm and the rhyme,
the o's and ah's,
to life being lived and poets allowed to
contribute a piece of their mind,
of their soul, of their being.
And I snapped and I cried,
my heart united between the struggles
and the laughter,
between love and the embers of futile
hatred.
Because, in the spark of a moment,
in the association of embracing lyrical
enunciations,
we became one of beeping heart
and symphonic sighs,
And we,
we lost ourselves on the moment
of great performance.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 1:43 AM UTC
Forever loyal
As important as a growing coyol
Dirt poor or modest bank
Her stance never waned
All the buildings they built together caved
But she never waved
Goodbye to him
Even when hope was so slim
Some poor words were verbalized at the whim
But none of us work well when the skies are this grim
There's a sense of brim
I see
And it implodes me full of pertinent glee
It is hard to say
I now know
As the day
Goes by
She is the reason
My father stays sane
No need to hydroplane
I stay tame
I haven't written love off
With these women in the world
I love you, Mom
Thank you for teaching me what a real woman is like.
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 2:33 AM UTC
The feeling of no hope.
Just wishful distress.
Trapped in silence, burdened by loud thoughts I hesitate to express.
Suffer in silence a friend once said.
Verbalized then cauterized with dread.
I want to be free.
But these chains bring me to my knees.
In the mirror someone new stands.
Broken compared to the man beforehand.
Dec 20, 2017
Dec 20, 2017 at 10:45 PM UTC
Evidence becomes the coin
determining worth on the scales
already rigged from the start
with no measure to dissuade
when morality is the judge
of a world they’d like to purge
all will fall beneath their gaze
when the virtue is misplaced
evil witnessed outside a book
or experience of the self
both are seen as paradigm
to the ones that are assured
madness lays down those paths
even while hearts are pure
identifying outside the lines
the normative is put aside
deviants by their choice
that’s when nature is most pure
without deceit verbalized
even though the masses cry
normative becomes the chant
damning all that are unique
now proof condones everything
or lack thereof to place the hate.
© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181001.
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC
She’s discretely picking herself up
yet again.
her toothbrush is in the front pocket
of her ripping knapsack
her necklace
refastened around her neck.
he’s still holding on to
her vintage
beach rock CD.
someone will always walk away
with something that wasn’t theirs.
the look in her eyes
when she was trying to drive,
was exhausted by the streetlights
and repressed remnants of
secretly sought after destruction.
she and her passenger
were separated
though verbalized indignation
seeped into
timid toleration.
he’s god knows where
touching who know who
it took three whole days
to move on.
She’s not strong
she just knew he was wrong
and lost in a throng
of undesirables
left overs in Styrofoam cases
with their names carved out
are shoved to the back of the fridge
silent and molding
like unspoken words
hanging their mouths.
it’s the mid-afternoon
and he couldn’t be bothered to wake up
before two.
she slipped out of his grasp
and dangled off the porch
in an overcast lavender blue.
back inside
the wood floor gives way
to her moon beam knees
and she loses perception
in the imperfections
of her dreams
and realities.
c.m.
7.15.14
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 6:33 PM UTC