"wallflowers" poems
I like to sit down and watch indie films
Just to see how others view someone like me
The star that tends to be a loner
But eventually comes out of their shell
Due to love and support from people around them
I realise now that
I came out of my shell
A long time ago
With a wild woman at my side
A best friend who is quiet but strong
The attention seekers who have a lot of love to give
The wallflowers that are too shy to speak up
I knew them all
I was the star of my movie
I may not have a love interest at this point of the film
Or even in the end
But it is nice
My life is an indie film
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 12:59 AM UTC
Maybe I'm meant to be a wallflower,
Watching others grow.
Lurking in their shawdows,
Constantly keeping low.
Maybe I'm meant to be a wallflower,
Plucking my petals one by one.
Praying that maybe I'll be picked,
Cause I have never seen the sun.
Maybe I'm meant to be a wallflower,
It's my destiny to be alone,
I think that by now its obvious,
My future is set in stone.
Maybe I'm meant to be a wallflower,
The shyest of them all.
I know that I will never branch out,
I am meant to stay this small.
Wallflowers can be beautiful,
That I know is true.
And I don't mind being a wallflower,
Because I kind of like the veiw.
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 7:29 PM UTC
In my years,
I have noticed,
writing about the birds and the trees
comes with great ease,
but an ordinary day with pale grey skies,
and flat stale air
is a subject as to which not many care.
A day when birds are too bored to fly;
people drearily roam outside.
When there are too many clouds for the sun to shine.
On such days, us wallflowers seem to thrive.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 3:55 PM UTC
To be different is to be alone.
We live in the folds of
Closed doors against open windows
We then can hear the treble of
A voice against each other
United in loneliness
Divided in an instant click, a shut off with headphones
But I dont hesitate. I stand
Even sometimes sit up
Think and smile for every word
I start to
Say
Speak
Whispering with a force
Like a needle ***** to the forehead which is the focus on us all
My mind cries then the tears flow
Into the heart
I then help tear down walls
They have built
Against the colors, noise and difference
Of the world. With an effort of words.
I open my eyes
They have left again
Perharps, to be alone is to be different.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 9:11 AM UTC
I. centipede:
-
They come from both directions and it doesn't take long
for me to realize that they've figured me out.
My mind was fast, but not as swift as the hands
of five-hundred outreaching hands; one angry crowd.
Grabbing at limbs, low and high, they don't waste a second
before tearing me in every direction; at least the cardinal four.
My mind takes flight, leaves fancy, but not before
I get in one last swear, and one last spittle in their faces.
II. snake
-
Tail and head aren't in sync this morning, I tell ya.
No rattle, no bite, just a lot of traffic and heat shimmers
in the one place I don't need to be today.
The people here act like they don't know me,
but they still turn their noses up when I empty my mug.
The waitress answers when spoken to,
but just stares in the time in between wheezing breaths.
I've got to get out of this county, this state.
III. scorpion
-
Ronny hasn't been on a roof since a couple years after we got married.
He wrapped his ankle in some gutters and took a spill;
his thigh popped right out of it's socket and he just dangled
like some kind of prize in one of those crane games.
Doctor says he can still have kids, and I know he can still get it up
from how he watches that ****** **** on t.v.
But he wont touch me; hasn't in fifteen months, I've counted.
He's in for a surprise once the settlement clears.
IV. lizard
-
Wallflowers never get anywhere with their mouths sewn shut
and I cut my stitches well before my teens;
I got what I needed and I made sure of it.
But there is something to be gained from
basking in the naivety of youth and ignorance.
Trouble doesn't set in as well, and boredom comes
as some kind of waiting period, rather than the norm.
These bars are a reminder of why they don't let me make the rules.
V. toad
-
Invulnerable, incontestable, unphasable, archetype.
I listen for the right words to drop the shields,
but I'm only met with the silence that accompanies
asphyxiation through means of wet wax paper.
The touch of phantoms tingle along my skeleton's core
telling me the time for lollygagging has long since passed.
Stand up, giant, you're running hot and the moon
keeps calling out, "follow the lit road home".
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 7:29 PM UTC
A term of endearment
A pure bread
Pedigree
Imbecile
The firing squad on parade on the thoroughfare
The death squads are on patrol for run on sentences and chemical runoff
The peer mediators tell us all to calm down
The rapscallions try to push us into their get-rich-quick schemes
And the shut-ins settle down with their mail ordered brides
The wallflowers tell everyone to go to hell with great brio
I guess I'll see them there
It won't be much of an endeavor
It'll be like a dog finding its way home
The blood brothers perturb everyone else
Telling them their open blood pact is BYOB
Then starting a be-in singing Come all ye faithful and Kumbaya
It all comes full circle, monkey see monkey do
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
I have two arms, right?
See em? Don't?
Too bad. But you assume I do anyways, because most people do.
And then there was Eddie, who had one arm.
He ran from his troubles so that he could evade the police. On their search for Eddie, scratch that hold on Eddie was a she, she liked being called that.
It made her happy. Anyways, she ran and ran, and then she found a bar+inn she could hide out in.
She ordered a cup of whisky, and being the good girl she was, she didn't drink it. She left it out for cops to find and they drunk it instead, one keeling over. Success!
She ran away from more of the police for two years before moving to Texas under a new name, Ashley. So Ashley
laid low and had wine daily. She got someone pregnant and got in even more trouble.
Now you might be wondering "how did she get someone pregnant?" and I tell you this: She had a **** Most girls don't, but as far as she was concerned, that didn't matter. She was a good girlfriend. Her eyes were more easily compared to ????! Forget that metaphor. She could run, really, really fast. People in her
vicinity ran because they thought she was odd. and she was. but not in a bad way.
to her, everyone else was odd. oddity is a confusing thing because it dances by itself at a party, leaving normalcy as the wallflowers. NOT TO SAY she was a wallflower.
ashley was outgoing. she danced, she broke her hip, she grew her hair out cut it off then grew it out again because the army wouldn't accept a cock-having girl.
Shortly she realized the army was unnecessary so she simply danced to the sound of oddities for the rest of her life.
No one bought her a drink, but she had dough so it didn't matter.
Texas was hot and she considered herself hotter. Whether or not that's an oddity is your decision.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 4:16 PM UTC
Tonight
I feel convex,
breathing wilted air
into deflating lungs.
Easing into oneself
is kinder on the fingernails
than hugging empt.
Wallflowers bloom
into streetlamps;
peripheries
maintain order.
Bowling ball bumper lanes
are immortal.
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
7 am.
For once I'm early.
For once I woke up, happy.
For once I woke up remember that it does get better.
For once my fathers text aren't true.
For once, I can easily wake up
For once, I can start my day off right.
For once, I'm actually happy.
Not that cheap liquor induced happiness.
But,
A small warm hug of happiness.
Maybe they won't leave, I haven't.
Maybe I won't shun them, they seem to like me.
Maybe mom was right,
I just had to get through high school.
Art school was the best decision of my life.
Wanna know why?
I'm doing what I love.
I'm surrounded by people who are like me.
Sure.
There will be the posers and phonies.
The ones with all the mask caked on and truly don't know who they are.
But,
Then there is us.
The wallflowers.
Take us however you wish.
Yes.
I'm broken.
Hurt.
Needy.
Afraid.
Helpless at times too...
But,
I'm happy.
Excited.
Rejoiced.
Refreshed.
Because I have this life,
I have this family,
And now...
I have these friends.
So today,
At 7 am,
I write to all you that I love to say,
Today I'm not just fine or okay,
I'm great.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 8:45 AM UTC
All the wallflowers
Picking up the sun
Slowly walking towards
The madness
Moving statues
Entwined at the
Fingertips
You can find your
Picture on my wall
Walking on two legs
Facing the sound
Of empty eyes
May 1, 2024
May 1, 2024 at 10:33 AM UTC
Standing pretzeled
Hidden among the others
A scattered bouquet
Not wanting to be picked
Wallflowers are seen so briefly
Others skim over them
While reading the room
Wallflowers with camouflage personalities
Long for a low profile
Wallflowers are real
Thinking and feeling
Wallflowers live a life
Of unprojected desires
They blend and bend
To cover the wall
Fearful they will dance alone
Music is entrancing
Still, wallflowers keep their heels
Firmly in place
While swaying to the music
In their heart
Oct 5, 2022
Oct 5, 2022 at 1:38 PM UTC
+
Suppose the North Star is flickering
at the end
of
it’s
wick.
How many men have set out,
machetes in hand
into frontier lands
to push back the darkness
stirred within
by the wonder
of their hearts,
only to become lost?
Then that luminous stain
on night’s curtain
is drawn
and north
finds them.
A five letter word
that beckons all sense of direction
when mixed
with a fireball
light years away
that may
not
even
exist.
So strange to think of how nothing
can save something
when we give it a name.
Strings of ones
flying out of zero.
A mathematical ideal
Owed to the lines we draw
between two points.
Spatial binary
for the unsuspecting dancer
if it could be said that you exist
well here it is
Zero
one
one
until you fill the ballroom
with wallflowers
then
tw
o
and their bodies finally know how to make the world move.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 11:57 PM UTC
1. This is for the people who are alone in a room full of people. For the misfits and socially awkward chipmunks. For the ones who feel empty. This is for you because it gets better. One day you will find your people. Chin up little flower.
2. This is for the girls with curly hair. This is for those of you who are too tiny to reach the top shelf or are too tall to blend in. For the gangly arms, the bruised knees. For freckled faces and crooked teeth. For the girls who hate their body. For the girls who love their body. This is for those of you who society states are not beautiful because you are not the norm. This is for the wallflowers.
3. This is for the 3 AM romantics. For the alcoholics and the poets. For the ones who cry alone. For the people who have passion burning their soul but were not born with the ability to express it. This is for the actors and dancers. For the people who have music between their rib cage.
4. This is for those of you who drink black coffee even though you don't like the taste. This is for red lipstick. This is for your out dated cell phone, and your NASA computer. This is for your crocs. This is for the mimers, the clowns, the people who are too scared to love themselves. Your chameleon soul is inspiring.
5. This is for you, the reader. This is to tell you that you are not alone.
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 11:12 AM UTC
We live in a wasteland.
A place for uneasy souls,
Uncared-for thoughts,
And loneliness.
We live in a wasteland.
A place for wild unrest,
Frequent combat,
And total war.
We live in a wasteland.
A place for the rejects,
The wallflowers,
And the jocks.
We live in a wasteland.
A place of constant turmoil,
Between states and countries,
And people.
We live in a wasteland.
We live in a wasteland.
We live in a wasteland.
We live.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 5:46 PM UTC
she’s gone and my world becomes a small comfortable bubble of washing dishes, making phone calls, giving hugs. things are simple again. relationships are pure and strong. the people who care are right there with help, the rest fades away. no mess. life is black and white - it’s grieving and comforting - it’s sorrow and hope - it’s washing dishes and making phone calls.
the relationship to a grandparent is a strange one. there is a difference between knowing who a grandparent is to you, and who they have been. grandparents are known by their grandchildren at the end of their journeys – not as small children, or college wallflowers, or tennis champs, or young mothers with smooth skin and quick hands.
grandchildren should be more humble. they fit into the end of the intricate lives of their grandparents and are lucky to witness what they do.
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 11:05 PM UTC
Anticipation is like a former actress who eagerly awaits a future prospect, where delicate wallflowers hang with certain fortitude.
Similarly, our medieval ancestors played the harpsichord, whilst later English Baroque flaunted her chauvinistic flamboyance to those who fluttered their eyelashes in the name of socio-economic harlotry.
I am pleased to meet your acquaintance, my friend of gallantry.
However, the roots of Portugese expression are conveyed in the aristocracy of our heritage.
As purity is the laughing stock of assumed independence, and pride is buried in lascivious presumption, we must remember that the classical piano shares an Arabesque flavour which stands in juxtaposition to our Saxony.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
I can't see in this smoke filled room
Only shadows
Lifeless forms, standing like wallflowers
It's quite
I stare and they stare back
I'm in a portrait painted in smoke and dust.
Surrounded by lifeless people
It's in my head.
Formed by my imagination
I sit and wait
Until the smoke clears
The dust is gone
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 4:14 PM UTC
This is for the prom queen
This is for the prom queen
who wears her crown of insecurities
with shaking knees
and sees
her body as disgusting
always adjusting
lusting for perfection.
It's for the kids who seek affection
or attention
and can't tell the difference.
It's gonna be okay
It's for the kids who always sit in the back
It's for the "Test tomorrow panic attacks"
It's for the kids on the fast track
to unsatisfying lives.
It's gonna be okay
This is for the kid with dreams set before him
that bore him.
Who wants more than
a marriage and a mortgage.
It's gonna be okay
This is for the over-drinkers and the over-thinkers
and the ones who hope one will stop the other.
It's for the mothers
whose daughters are sinking,
thinking they have to be
drinking
in order to make friends.
It's for the sleepless nights that never end.
it's gonna be okay.
This is for the kid with the bad complexion
and the invisible girl who hides her scar collection
under her shirt
amongst the hurt,
***** looks,
And her favorite books
It's okay
It's for the boy that's abusing
and the girl that's confusing
it for love
and because of that
does not see she's beautiful
It's gonna be okay
It's the for the friends we lose
and the poisons we choose.
It's for the kids that wake up late
the ones that can't wait to graduate
and for the wallflowers trying to participate
It's gonna be okay
It's for the monsters under our beds and in our heads
that wake us up at 4 A.M
And for the all stupid things we've said
It's gonna be okay.
It's for the kid who sees his face foggy in the mirror
and does not have the means to make it clearer
It's for the kids who have it all
and the kids who see their life in a ball
It's for every single brick in the wall
for the ***** words on ***** stalls
and for the brokenness inside us all.
It's gonna be okay.
It's for the kids who wear masks
made of broken smiles and empty laughs
and crack a little more everyday
it's for the way
we smile and say we're okay
It's going to be okay
It's for the skinny girl starving to be a model
and looking for love at the bottom of the bottle
with a magazine cover for a role model
it's gonna be okay.
It's for the fat girl whose proud of who she is
because she knows that beauty lies within
it's for the holy kids so afraid to sin
that they forget to live
It's gonna be okay.
This is for the kisses under the bleachers
and the schoolboys crushing on their favorite teachers
This is for the kid who drinks tears from his beer
for the football stars
and the closeted queers
It's for the late night phone conversations
for the vibrations
of infatuation
and the sensation
of summer vacation.
It's for the chronic liars
and nervous first-timers
the cancer survivors
and the poetry writers
It's for the lives we've been given
the cars we've drunk driven
and the shells in which we live in.
And it's for the normal kids
It's gonna be okay.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 3:40 PM UTC
our world is overrun by technology addicts.
each second, minute is wasted by getting high or arguing back and forth.
people try so hard to renew themselves each year, but it usually doesn't work out.
instead they go back to their old ways, and their habit soon becomes who they are.
it takes over their personality and actions.
it's a disease waiting to happen to anyone who won't try hard enough.
it won't happen to me, i won't let it.
instead of being active on the social network, i won't.
instead of ignoring the wallflowers i'll start communicating with them.
i'm tired of being one of "them", i rather be a floater.
someone who floats around waiting for someone to notice them.
a background is what i merely am.
this year is the time to mold myself into the person i rather be instead of the person everyone wishes to be.
this year, i'm going to invent myself.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
The sky is a shade of angry air
With the false illusion of gray
The kind that foreshadows agony
That never goes away
Skyscrapers high and paves on the ground
Serving as concrete masks
Wallflowers hide as wallflowers do
From people walking past
Never does a color floss
Through trench coats and slacks, all the same
Never does a person pass
Who knows more than your name
For wallflowers hide as wallflowers do
And no one really cares
For those wallflowers grow, ivy on brick
It never moves, but it's there.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
like wallflowers growing peacefully,
with asthenic transparency
i perceive everything with eyes so weary
yet pick up the little things even angels cannot see.
leaping from star to star,
yet never knowing where to land,
traveling to places unfamiliar
casting shadows on every space at hand.
i can't help but wonder how it would feel to exist
with a presence that would linger,
one whose souls would reminisce,
where my voice would echo;
not as a croak of sullen desperation
but a sound that would cut through
the haze of hopelessness.
i would begin to think about the probability
of my misguided existence,
invisible, but sees everything;
no flesh and bone, but is hurting.
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 7:10 PM UTC
I drink till the moonlight sinks deeply into my covers,
Where time has no mind, and no side-effects to gather.
May I sleep better than the days before,
Never to watch my ghost drift away towards the door.
Some raise their glass to the sky,
Some to the clink of another,
But I and I, bare and dry,
Give pity to my nerves without a bother.
As I turn the pages of a new novel,
Where the moon swings with the stars,
Soft and jovial,
Like towards an infinite inclinations of a son and mother.
Friends holding the cracks within my hand,
******* the toxic liquid from my skin.
We walk together among the wallflowers covering the land,
As a single, sole thought of entangled vines that we suspend.
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
And even when you thought nobody understands you,
Somebody understood
And even when you thought nobody sees your struggles,
Somebody saw
And even when you thought you don't deserve love,
Somebody loved
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC