Best Regressed Poems
And He
my dearest
maturest mate to date
has bitterly regressed
to a child irate
from man of logic
to impish state
a hexer vile
filled with hate
while I don't believe
I've changed a bit
he thinks me evil
my mother split
as saccharin
as the Harpie race
bewitching temptress
evil face
necessity
I do suppose
for his childish fit
to so dispose
Dug out of an old journal for John Lawless' Go Ahead I Dare Ya!!! Contest
Setbacks Contest
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negrom
missing link unknown
her death my pity hindrance
lessening of growth
regressed innocence
before successful progress
life’s impediment
severe frustration
defeated bloodline mourning
extinct from her loss
thirsty for closure
beyond my intelligence
woe relapsed from strength
prayers heal my heart
yesterday’s setbacks bring hope
struggle gains freedom
~1st Place Winner~
Date Written: July 6, 2016
Memories
f
a
d
i
n
g.....
I thought I knew abstract silhouettes and I was never right again.
Sad moments tampered with breaking glass. A shadow’s remorse
brought emptiness and now my darkness is the light of my life.
Sweet agony remembered, as I pull up my sheets to fall asleep and
no matter the distance between me and the door, I still need pain.
Freedom comes from chains and chains reveal strength. Never let
go dear one, for love is on the way.
I thought I knew swirls of paint on the canvas as I sketched the
outline too soon. I should have used charcoal instead of oil but
my mind was racing in distress. I knew I’d be alone forever. I knew
I’d be the only one left to live in torment from all my regressed sins.
Never again will I fall on my knees to the ones who tear my heart apart.
I shall always be strong for the weaknesses of the child who mourns
her dear mother in sadness. She is me. I am her. We are ONE.
I will remain in her arms as long as I take breaths. Oh, never let
go dear one, for love is on the way.
She sings melodies as a child should, yet bleeds in tears for love.
Never again will she see the light of day if she sleeps on the streets.
I have been there, one the streets I mean. Cold during the chill of
winter and blazed during summer days. No season can relieve my
burdens and no regret can fill my void. My void will never be full
and my emptiness will always remain delivered. I beg of you, never let
go dear one, for love is on the way.
October 1, 2016
Why don’t you come now
To the plot of blue river shore
Where we would
In an intense chocolate mood
Sit in a sun rise satisfaction
On the grainy sand
And create pearl drops of time
From the rhymes of waves
With the vibrancy we behaved
Exchanging those fine chimes
From our moonbeam dialectics
And converging synthesis
Of our hilltop thoughts and marine activities
After a diamond quest
Like the river
Or inside the river too?
How wonderfully we regressed and progressed
Making those radiant rings of time
Sometime winged
Sometime pink tinged
Time is bland and monochrome
Unless from your chromosome
You paint it like Van Gogh
Arresting the wayward clock
During which
Regardless of Greenwich
Taking colours from our river-wave flowers
Taking flavours from our cellular tremors
Taking sounds from our nascent heart pounds
Yours and mine
In our proximity alkaline
Would paint the wavelets
In the cups and plates
Opening the normally closed gates
Of sweet sweats
From each pore
And millions of such pores
From smiling to laughing in a petrichor
Unlocking the thousand doors
Of a colour continuum
From San Francisco to Baltimore
As we exchange our breath
From our deepening cores
Raising a rivulet
In the blue pigeon’s breast
And the bulbul’s beautiful crest
A supreme rest
In a purple tumult
Shadows lengthen in ecstasy
As sessions come to a termination
(No termination is possible though
What happens is a slow transformation
Of one melody to another music
Speeches flowing into lyrics
The sounds into stillness mystic)
So therefore
Bringing to the fore
From the amalgamated core
A flower of fusion
Pure and fresh
Out of the flood
No mire or mud
Looking at us conveying greetings
We look too
And from the meeting
A poem is born
Why don’t you come any more
Very often I look through the eye hole
Of my expectant door
The wishes naturally soar
In case I may see you coming
Dulcet sounds your feet strumming
But it’s all mist
I almost don’t exist
I miss the oasis
Of the cleansing catharsis
_____________________________________
19 May, 2017
For the Contest sponsored by Neyda Ivette Negron
Most restful sleep since... being in utero
Courtesy restless leg syndrome
spouse called me expletive rat fink
ousted me out the bed with plink
as lovely bones almost got extinct,
whence consoled self singing ditty
Skidamarink a-dink a-dink
makeshift burrow of pillows nsync
shuteye analogous to grateful dead,
Elysian Fields I did drink
yours truly fast asleep
found repose within eyeblink
awoke rested minus
knotted knobs entire body kink
metaphorical twisted human pretzel,
yours truly did not shrink
though disabled to walk,
hence mobility regressed
circumscribing me ambulatory
range to crawl and slink,
no matter paralyzed
(albeit temporarily), I think
above mentioned rectifies
Quandary whereat legs
shimmy and shake
keeping the missus awake
she requires daily at least
twenty four hours
of beauty rest to slake
lest she renders me into
chopped liver and/
or skewered beefcake
nuttin I divulge "fake,"
courtesy this corny flake,
who years gone by
a scoundrel and rake
straying against marital fidelity
triggering psychological earthquake
present crisis pits less at stake,
thus forgive wordplay
much more age
appropriate than pattycake,
perhaps slight hyperbole
thee only literary gambit
up figurative sleeve,
me ain't no magician,
nor gifted with holiness
able to walk across lake
thus harmlessly,
kiddingly, purposelessly...
cavort, frolick,
before darkness, when I
unduly forced to betake
self and disappear hoping the morrow
will find most bushy tailed wideawake.
Democracy came,
Democracy left,
Marking the material meek for death,
The one to fallow pumping hot lead in their chest,
Offering hope,
Saying "we can be the best!"
Now they work with no rest,
Strings are pulled on a puppet press,
Subconsciously suppressing the wide eyed mass,
Work with no rest!
A slave generation all focused on how to dress,
The gunman in position,
No noise the shots suppress,
Survival available with a billion dollar vest,
Freedom was stressed,
Liberty regressed,
Blood in blood out the presidents new inaugural address.
The alarm clock sang out, my dad jumps up
rushes me into the kitchen, today my love
is indeed, a very special day for you, my eyes
wide shut, as he continued, explaining civil rights
Cramming memories, into my little head I mean
I'd remember sitting, on my Nona's lap as,
Martin Luther King was killed in Birmingham
my entire family, regressed into deep sadness
Aging over night perhaps, so did I ,our last names
were Parks and King, let me tell you, during the
60's in Chicago, if a riot broke out our names,
were instantly called, over tornado speakers
Sound off Mohammed speaks, we were rushed
into dark sedans, being slowly driven down,
Roosevelt road this was 1969 first grade
I was preparing, to visit Lincoln's home,
and tomb mom combed, through my curl's,
my grandmother ,rubbed Vaseline on my face elbows,
and knees ,this big fuss over me, I was actually named
after Martins daughter, well Miss. Yolanda king
you get to sing, on the steps of Lincoln's memorial,
Marian Anderson's hymn, sometimes I feel like a
motherless child, afterwards the Supreme Court Justice,
we were mourning ,with happy tears, these brown face's
doting on me, five generations in my mist
standing in line, to give me a big kiss
Written by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
When my eyes opened there she was, the girl that changes your world, the girl that defines love at first sight, the girl that you want to capture the moon for, the girl that makes you question what’s real, the girl you want to give the world.
You can see a million stars in her eyes, and when she speaks she freezes my heart,
She makes me so nervous I can hear my heart about to beat straight from my chest,
I briefly look away and close my eyes in hopes of regaining what little composure I have left,
As I observe the ambience around me I see my feelings circling up and slowly enclosing as she sees right through my persona as if I’m trapped in a glass box of spirits,
All the sudden we are starring into each other’s eyes, such an intense moment I swear I felt a tear drop from the heavens, I guess angels really do cry
She reached out and ran her fingers through my hair at the same time pulling me closer until our foreheads kiss.
I open my eyes, there is a silent pause that consciously spoke ever so loud, it was the pause before the kiss,
But this kiss I missed, I saw it in the distance as she regressed and I began to watch her exit my glass box of emotions,
The moment has passed, and I am held prisoner to my feelings frozen in time….
Caught up in the moments
P.S. I should have kissed you, THIS IS JUST A POST SCRIPT.
The damsel in distress routine got old
at first, it was so captivating
made you feel like a knight
you had dragons to slay
you saw the tears
you wanted to be the hero of her dreams
you wanted her to faint with delight
at your sight
to sigh
you wanted to whisk her away
make love to her
night and day
your just reward
for wiping her tears away
Oh, it was sweet
it was
to see how she needed you
wanted you
she wanted you to stay
dream castle knight on display
It got old, the damsel in distress routine
some of the demons were too strong
the nightmares too harrowing
the insecurity too stifling
the neediness too needy
it got old
The tears of past memories
didn’t dry quickly enough
the castle walls closed in
turning into a dungeon
hero accolades grew thin
In the dark of night
you lowered the drawbridge
and while she slept
you snuck away
the damsel in distress routine
got old, too old to keep you
While night turned to day
as you rode away
the truth would not dawn for you
the night all you knew
you couldn't understand
couldn't see
it wasn’t a routine
the damsel in distress
regressed
more distressed was she
in dawning light to see
the night had claimed her knight
This tale of woe I weave
of fairytale that bleeds
is true, you see
for the damsel in distress, is me
I’m still....
the damsel in distress
with no one
no one
to rescue me
Eileen
Im so very torn by my emotions
Riding high my heart is in throat
Angry and disillusioned by lies
Seems the boat i ride never floats
Holes in floorboards a sinking ship
treading water about to drown
Fighting for air gulping my anxiety
I just wish i could stop falling down
Seems my life is a never ending battle
And uphill climb that leads no where
Love is an illusion sold to us by tv
No one gives up themselves to care
Everything is about what you can get
Theres no random kindness for another
Agendas frought with your screwing neighbor
I dont know why i ever even bothered
Im a gentle spirit being churned and spit out
I cast no stones yet they stone me
I judge nobody yet still im judged
I cant understand why this happens to me
Am i truly that unlovable easy to burn
Trekking through life without anyone
to share my burdens or or give me love
should i give up b4 what i do cant be undone
Tied my holey boat back to the dock
Ill stay where i am stagnant and still
Stop trying to ford the river of life
Give up give in til foes have there fill
When they are done i rise again beaten
Forlorn undressed regressed yet still standing
Ill walk towards the sun head held high
With a new inner strength of understanding
But i wont be easy i wont show care
My heart will b empty ill be the prick
I will do only for me not care about you
My heart will b filled with lead & arsenic
As i'm up on the cliffs,
i get a sight of the town.
A calm day,
not even a sound
I sit there & ponder the profound
Because my mind resounds
Like bloodhounds who
Discover murderous true-found's
Who put 2 rounds
Into blue clowns
Who were too down & always frowned
Because the weight of their success
Weighed half the amount of a pound
&, their progress climbed a hopeless mound
Off the focused ground
Of the All-Seeing Eye...
Of tall beings who fly
& came from the sky
I soon discovered why
This knowledge hasn't passed me by
For, i am taught that in life you must always try
Who gives a damn if you are soon to die?
The ones you think care,
Are the one's who will truly lie
In order to solidify
Their place in this cold-hearted
World of the spy & the fried
Who live petrified by the evil inside
Us all that will create the fall
Of ourselves & all the power melds
Into the Industrial Revolution of our
Illustrious Evolution
Seeking disastrous resolutions
& claiming that regressed illusions are the Essence
Of the Almighty's presence
Yet, humanity keeps getting picked off
Like bullets towards a pheasant
Our wings are gone &
Now, one cannot take to the skies
For our collective ignorance extends too long
& the masses believe these repressive lies
Strung together with unbinding ties
& hopeless vies for assistance
to the very ones oppressing us
Seems like a mindless policing
Of the people instead of
Joining the resistance
& defeating the blind mess
Of the ones leasing the steeple
To the creeps full of it
As they pardon us all
Yet, go behind our backs to get lit
Making them unholy hypocrites
(Please read part 1 first or this will make no sense)
To the scientist’s dismay, pressing the cancel button was ineffective. The plunge into his past continued inexorably. It, however, was not without its benefits. Henry’s skin became supple and his muscles bulged as in his youth. His hair returned to the light brown that he hadn’t seen in decades. For the first time in decades, Henry felt, not just okay, but good and joyous in his renewed youth. He decided to stop his slide into the past at about age twenty when he would have his degrees and could live his career over again. If his “other self” was there, Henry would assume a new identity and make a whole different life for himself. It was an unprecedented opportunity and he meant to make the most of it.
Near his birthday in the year 1970, Henry hopefully pressed the cancel button and was rewarded with a loud click. But instead of gliding to a stop, the time machine accelerated in its journey into the past. Henry experienced the hormonal rush of puberty and felt adolescent acne break out on his face. Within minutes, a reverse growth spurt cut his height by several inches. Soon, he was a young child at play, oblivious to the danger of his situation. The year 1950 saw a tot and then a cooing baby. When August 8th passed, the infant suddenly had an umbilical cord attached to a nonfunctioning placenta. Its two umbilical arteries throbbed desperately, but the return blood through the umbilical vein was not oxygenated, nor did it contain essential nutrients.
Membranes enveloped the devolving Henry who now had the “old man” appearance of a fetus. Then he became a blastocyst, ready for implantation in a nonexistent uterine endometrium. Within seconds he regressed to gastrula, blastula and then the berry-like ball of cells called morula. Like some weird countdown, he became 64, 32, 16, 8, 4, 2 cells and then a zygote.
The paternal half of Henry’s chromosomes disappeared next, leaving only an ovum ready for fertilization. Even that became an oocyte needing to complete meiosis before it vanished entirely in the immature ovary of Henry’s infant mother.
Henry Higgins, born August 8, 1950 and died November 8, 1949, physicist and time traveler is missing forever.
I should be depressed
my relationship is in turmoil
i am finding it harder and harder to rest
Is this a test?
Immensely sifting through an inferno of emotions
I believe that we have reached our crest
Distressed, I confess to my shortcomings and i get protest
I cannot cope with this heartache any longer
I am stressed, in search of a new conquest
It is hard to digest losing time invested
Although that is her request
My anger has regressed, I concede to losing
I guess!!
Jared Pickett
2/7/2014
Asavvy1
Truth is, I'm terrified
Of the craggy pedestal that I've been
Living on
That threatens to pitch me into the
Salty, ebony sea
The rope is there for me to grab
To pull me back up to the
Shore
But do I dare to turn back now?
Do I dare to go so far?
I pity the buds that,
In spring, were once in full bloom
Were lush enough to nurture
At least, if need be
Now the pair have regressed to baby
Bubbles resting on my chest
Shiny, but with childish luster only
Innocent
Yet too much so in age
I thrive on the hollow pride
That drags along my hollow stomach
I flourish underneath the truth
Of my demise
In my disease, I become comfortable
Skin just right and not too
Stretched
Too tired to drag on but thus content
I am haunted by the thought
Of ever being fed
1/27/21
"Styrofoam"
It's not hormones, testosterone
Or Pheromones
I was at the crossroads
Moved towards what was familiar or unknown
Never did any good to postpone
I can really feel it in my bones
Nearby all these Madrones
Time has shown
In and out of all these biomes
The elements shaping the land and stones
Hung up the phone
Then came the dial tone
I've sinned, and I've atoned
I regressed, and I have grown
Sippin’ out of Styrofoam
In and out of different tidal zones
Had to get it on my own
It almost always was homicide if their was a broken Hyoid bone
It was always kept a secret or widely known
They're really focused on drones
And clones
Yet they also want to continually probe
And spy on the entire globe
Was close to the cosmos
As well as the locker of Davy Jones
From here to Nome
Always been a rogue
After the motherlode
Sometimes I was on paved streets, or often I was on dirt roads
Staying composed
Solving problems with or without the use of codes
Before the doors are closed
Meanwhile, people still having continual episodes
Got it done smoothly, or I just bulldozed
Those
That attempted to oppose
And stick their nose
Into my business, that's a no
Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe
Catch a tiger by the toe
Took them out with the undertow
Quickly they sunk below
Or by going blow for blow
A.K.A. Toe to toe
The same could be said for many, including so and so
The flesh and organs beginning to decompose
Food for insects, vultures and crows
It's not a hoax
Did the least or I did the most
Put it out there or was a ghost
Got it done easily or cut it close
It's gross
Far too often was comatose
Because I overdosed
Couldn't stop myself, or follow advice from my folks
I know, what a joke
Even though I've been woke
I couldn't stop my addictions, or say "Adios!"
More than just words being wrote
It'd do you some good to take note
Humans at each others throats
Quick to gloat
And to go right for the throat
Especially over your affiliation and how you vote
I either did or didn't have a rain coat
Humans quick to find a scapegoat
We either were or were not in the same boat
Stood sturdy like an oak
Behind continual clouds of smoke
And enough alcohol to make a moat
So that a boat could stay afloat