Desperation is destruction
It position you
In the side of frustration
Moving without destination
Always wanting others approbation
What the society endows
You always confide in
Can't fight for what you want
Always fitting into the box.
Desperation
Is a dysfunction
Instant gratification
Putting you in stagnation
It breaks you
Making you to be station
Instead of been flexible
You become still
Making you mentally ill.
Desperation
Is manipulation
Catapulting you into a place
Filled with commotion
Instead of promotion
Blurring your vision
Blindfolding you from reality
Into delusions and illusion.
Shift in place,
Move still while keeping silent.
Deafening screams locked behind teeth
Some profound rage kept from an
Ineffable target.
Held In place,
By un-moving days.
Simmering at the surface.
Hidden by the stoic face.
Waiting for the instance,
When the world will cease the snail's pace.
Primed for even a sliver of movement.
So it may strike a hand into the stream.
As time rushes by, finding its mark.
An object to direct that malice towards.
Expelling the poison that has accumulated.
Worsening with every breakfast and dinner.
Despite the mania it brings,
And injuries I inflict.
It is cathartic.
A moment of motion
Is better than a life of stillness.
I could make a sandwich.
Or couldn’t.
It can be both ways.
Lettuce dances around the kitchen.
Gasping as if you just woke up.
It’s noon but nothing is real.
I couldn’t make a sandwich.
Just grabbed a snack like a vampire who can’t sleep ever.
Dancing around like a spider bouncing.
Or like gravity pulling every way.
Spirals are like corn on the cob.
Nothing is like lunch except food.
And there’s dishes everywhere and no food sometimes.
Or food but it’s too tightly packaged.
There is no reason why I can’t make lunch.
Just getting bored of hunger.
Dried up feelings of boredom.
And lively jumping around dancing feelings.
Sparkling non-cooking, non-cleaning life.
I could make a sandwich or not.
I could untie the knots around me.
Invisible, dancing feelings.
Noon and I just woke up too disintegrated crumbs.
I could.
It’s both ways.
I could and couldn’t.
They don’t know growling hunger.
Like me.
But I got lazy.
She believed her Barbie's and Ken's
had shared a love far more complex
than any feelings they'd expressed --
AND dolls couldn't even self-dress!!!
She knew they were a mistake -
one she wanted them to address.
Her thoughts led to a request -
they both take a fear of change test.
Pleased to speak free, she confessed
being a part of couple failure debris
and held no fear of changing things.
She sensed relief peak as he owned
his tendency to cultivate regrets and
said he'd be more than fine living alone.
Once they aced the test, she at last
felt their tensions loose resentments.
Then they intelligently addressed
the logistics involved in couple deletion.
Next, they tossed their dysfunction map
and then summed up zero further cost
applied in paving a way out of this trap.
She was sure they'd only leveraged crap.
I
cannot
imagine
future living
without eyes tearing
while screams chest develop -
no acceptance views sooth me -
wanting release for inner peace
seems a futile painful endeavor
I hear heaven's precious angels crying -
relationships worship purpose tainted
truth will be lost as dysfunctions grow -
artificial intelligence
violates all hearts minds souls -
it is not progressive
but sick aggressive
to rape visions
choke mankind
undo
us
Everyone in the world is eating breakfast.
Breakfast is a waste of time.
I need more time to toss and turn.
To lie here, reluctantly.
Maybe lying here will make me stronger.
And more able to finish all the things I never got done.
All those things from yesterday.
All those plans from my whole life.
Which leads me to this moment.
Lying uselessly in bed.
Feeling like prey.
The pitter patter of the morning causes me to panic.
Because at any moment now…
She’s going to call me down for breakfast.
why do you hate me?
You hate me because I stand up
(instead of lie down)
I tell the truth
(instead of contorting my lips, my life, my soul
to fit into your perfectly tidy little
story)
Your perfect plan...
Everything that doesn't stay neatly within the lines of your
beautiful lies,
gets rejected, baby.
And that's the way its always been, Right?
The Gospel according to "Down Pat"
Everyone has to bow
Everyone has to conform to the "plan"
or they get Cast out-
thrown under the bus,
aloha! adios! Hallelujah!
Roadkill, baby!
Praise the Lord!
It's all the same.
And then you wipe the dirt off your hands,
your face, your feet
(because u can't handle what just went down)
and quietly walk away-
and play (quite nicely and neatly, i might add)
the Victim.
(it all fits together so neatly and nicely, so beautifully done,
especially when everyone cooperates!....
hmmmmmmmmmmm)
Mother asked her big brother to pass the sugar;
big brother ruined it by splashing on liquor;
father rued spilt liquor by throwing his jigger
that hit sister who lit an elbow hard slammer
straight into the hand of their rare guest and butcher;
butcher stood to secure a full-face slap on her;
slap missed, striking their napping, fat cat to a blurred
flying fur on shriek tour that dog crashed with claws bore;
clawed dog wailed and bailed, dragging tail out wee dog
door where he ran to distance pain until a looper
stopped his scooter – close by was one giant cougar;
too pooped to care, tired dog flopped right then and
right there; dog closed eyes, cougar cleared throat, then
croaked, ‘Hey, Lassie, are you insanely blind to cougar
claw lugers?’; dog moaned, ‘A quick cougar corker beats
home murder.’
Be reborn, departed Shakespeare
for now is truly the time to quench
your perpetual attraction to madness.
Threatened by the cruel hounds
of distemper and heated atmospheres,
our broken trusts and unhealthy emotions
set a luxurious bed for extravagant madness.
Be freed from truth, beloved bard
and unbound by complex thought
- relish in weakening America’s
obsessional social dysfunction.
My husband left me and I’m happy he’s gone
The tale is finally over and the curtain is drawn
November 1, 2019
Pithy Pome Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Maureen McGreavy
Electile Dysfunction
By Franklin Price
11/25/2016
Electile dysfunction
That condition comes to mind
Was not a firm election
In November we would find
Adversaries used enhancements
As they tried to screw the Trump
He got elected anyway
Opponents took it in the rump
The people chose to be involved
The establishment went limp
Trump won a firm election
I think I saw it on the blimp
Now the election's over
Electile dysfunction's done
Give Donald's intercourse a chance
To see if he's the one
We can provide enhancement
Stand erect, feet on the ground
Raise eyes and find the flying flag
Red, white and blue is still around
When dating
pay rapt attention
to your intuition
I did:
For self-preservation
in relation
to emotional creation
When he made it clear
that his ex is his BFF
I exited the scene
to be released
from negative energy
I voted for Ronald McDonald for Governor
My local politician said that was rude
But if I had a choice of clowns
I wanted one with food
Now our Congressman’s campaign manager was Pinocchio
He thought he was very lucky
But when the campaign manager faced southwest
His nose was in Kentucky.
After watching all the election ads
I’ve been doubled up with gas
So when you’re done kissing babies
Politicians can kiss my (Darn! Almost said it again)
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