Long Deflated Poems
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Eleven bears a seed
Strange, numbers multiply
Even irrational digits breed
You are not that special
Though we are unique
One is lost by rage
In the upside down
Think Vecna is untrumped
But he cannot see
Up from down
Take him to LA
Feed him caviar
But, he has to go home
He’ll write in his journal
Feeding his demagorgon
The time One has had
Even if it rained all day
The sun was just above
Down below is his home
Where the sun is a memory
Parallel universes be damned
Can’t Eden marry the Real?
A pipe dream without wind
The piper sings to rats
Bring us a seed from above
Only Eleven brings a seed
Only One cannot rule it
Like Persephone to Hades
Bringing hope to Spring’s wake
That never stays down
Telling us Hell can be fertile
Like lynchings making jazz
Eleven, be my piper
Her music contraband
I am your Thirteen forever
A black cat with unholy lives
A vampire burned by light
If not for Will, I would rise above
My seed who still lives in Eden
Rotting from past trauma
Tucked in Eleven’s blonde wig
A seed from the right side up
Plant it where no light comes
Nurture one in a million
One that eats pressure
Like a pylolobus dredged
Deflated by salty air
Gasping without stress
Throw me back
Back to Hell
Free from the sun
Let me make dark ether
More hospitable
Down below
Unlike the surface
Overcrowded with joy
But that’s where
Life is, my sister
Where all I love
Where strange things
Live like us
On the right side up
Give me perspective
Greater than reality
But a seed
Brought by Eleven
It is but a seed
Until it lands in between
Rooted in the light
Leaves drinking darkness
Willing reunion
A breath of fresh air
On both sides
Of the coin
A dime united
For liberation
And for change
Everlasting
Strangeness in
Things
morning rhythm is interrupted
debris from the ceiling falls on her last used paper plate
i wake up with an six month odor with no hygiene whatsoever
i care not for my job, my bills, my family, or even my life
no i take no drink
no i take no drug
no i have not a thought of suicide
i just think of her in a trance of oblivious carelessness
i am a hoarder via unknown circumstances....(but i know)
afternoon distortion is welcomed
dust from the air tickles the sensitive hairs in around my nostrils
i just sit anywhere thinking of her without regard for consequences
yes i blame her
yes i blame myself
yes i merge the two on purpose
i just miss the hell out of her in that manly way that constipates the tear ducts
i am the main public enemy number one of myself....(and i know)
nighttime disorientation is oddly celebrated
i say my prayers inadequately with a false hope masquerading as a source of faith and truth
i just lay in the bed pretending the water stained ceiling has a skylight in the middle
no i have no dream
no i have no nightmare
no i have no insomnia
i just wish her was here healing me with her divine guarantees
i am antagonistic fool with paintbrush splinters, a broken easel, and a deflated ego....(i never knew)
Flesh fuels fire. Spirit yields. There's body-soul fusion.
Springs up, will to power, and power to will illusion
Narcissistic senses and sensations amalgamated
Moral fibre, like worn-out dental roots, is deflated.
Selfishness, like the greed of predators, murders morals.
Egotism, like crabs in competitions, grabs all laurels.
Overconfident sensitive ego, like porcupines
Spreads its pokes, and thus, to hurt anyone, crosses limit lines.
Mind-not-on-task, - mental disposition, pervades the mind.
Consciousness compromises; awareness gets quarantined.
Hunger for acknowledgment and appreciation grows.
Self-contentment and satisfaction get peaceful repose.
Pretension and flamboyance soon become ethical codes.
Property, possessions, power, projective passion modes
The gratification of instinctual impulses
leading, ultimately, to emotional convulses
From the beginning of my day it appeared that the tasks ahead were not going to be good. It seemed that a day of calm and peace was doomed from the start. The help that was required to do a good job for our customers was in doubt. The helper was due to meet me at an agreed place and time, but did not. I was therefore forced to work fast and furious, and I was rather frustrated.
I finally accepted the fact that this day would not be a piece of cake. In my haste, my mind must have turned to paste, as I chased the clock. Things became a little brighter when my helper showed up later on; and my day did indeed get better.
In the process of the race and the rush, I lost the door key of one of our customers. I had always labored to be the best, and expected the same from our helpers in business. And now, I was embarrassed, and felt lost; I felt like a failure. I had no choice except to call and apologize. I informed my most gracious client, and he said for me not to worry. I worried anyway and wandered back and forth in my mind.
Another day came with the client and his key on my mind. I kept on worrying, because those keys I could not find. I was both worried and embarrassed at the same time.
Our business required being fully trustworthy and reliable. It demanded and required total focus upon the best interest of our customers. We held the keys to their homes; and they needed to feel secure. How could they feel secure if we could not hold on to their door keys? How could my wife and I build a successful business losing keys?
My kind customer called me later that day to inform me that his pool cleaner had found the key. A very heavy load was quickly lifted from my deflated and wearied soul. It was the end of one of the longest 24 hour periods of my life. My spirit was lifted even higher when four little words failed from the lips of our client that will stay with me for a life time.
As I expressed my gratitude of the moment and shared with him the sheer frustration of yesterday, I was wonderfully encouraged and blessed when he said something that I will never forget. In a sincere and calming tone, he said to me, “That Day Is Gone”.
080308PSContest, Uplifting, Laura Loo
another Bukowski nightmare begins
the castrato sings below
while she calls from the minaret
fossicking thru the memories
for our linked verse
while i, sitting beneath the coolabah
river on the run
waiting for some rabbit or Alice
oh incorrigible moon
have you no mercy this night
see the parade pass, the ithyphallic
the trilithon collapsing, time and gravity
another turgid, erubescent symbol deflated
another thought buried by time
and mine to waste
o moon so incorrigible
teach me not emotion
let me revel in callosity
let the mirror play tu quoque
let it speak for once
scream from the inner scotopia
where the predatism scutters
read to me another confessional poet
those in need
of yet another minie ball, open oven door
fill the pockets with rocks and rockets
o god more, more misery
rise and hail your innermost misery
you must suffer for literature
tempus fugit is a lead pipe cinch
that is the diphthong the calliope
never fails to sail thru
while surds and sonants bounce the walls
the coffee shop lustrum, ideomotion
learn to unlearn
supine beneath the coolabah
river on the run
waiting for a rabbit or Alice
the urge for frottage
pushes us beyond logic and reason
suffering polyphagia between the limbs
where the eyes drool in
bushes of void commandments
now postmodernism
and i are even
i refuse to die for this revolution
i refuse the pitiful pitfalls
life's a grand adventure
taking in ever larger measures
i refuse to fail its call
i refuse
i refuse
hand me that bottle of rum
let's think about this
Fergus Falls 97
Let It Be HP
On another poetry site
the winding road
took me for a ride
from the top of the mountain
to the bottom,
at least in my eyes.
Along the way my confidence
inflated.
It grew,
especially with increasing
reader views.
This was good,
seeing myself growing into a tall oak.
This was the spark I needed.
And recently it deflated.
This popped my balloon.
This little piece of rubber
shriveling up in my mind.
"Poof."
It hurts.
It hurts
to pass this story along
of always being an acorn.
What I see over there
is that the new car
smell wore off
quickly, my value
depreciating even
quicker.
At first, my ride
was on uncharted territory,
this the terrain I coveted.
I yearned for attention.
Reader views were like
sky towers to me,
initially, some dozen
poems put out 500 watts
with one at a 1000+ watts.
The whites of my teeth
were shining, the shining spotlight
on my stage for once.
My eyes looking up.
My mind even musing about
parting with the pup-tent views,
here.
It was short lived success...
to say the least...
dozens of poems left in effigy,
sub 100's, the last one flickering
on and off at 15 prayers.
It was a crying shame.
Yet
it was electrifying at first at HP,
my charges stimulated,
then seemingly overnight
my poems were sequestered.
His new car smell waned.
Where did the lights go?
I do ponder
maybe it was me that sank,
probably so,
and not the readership
... as my mind picks
up the pieces, saying
to
Let it be.
Let it be.
connie pachecho
8/9/17
Inspired to write this poem after reading entries
to the "Let It Be" poetry contest.
Common reaction occur in most
they fit you in and bond you close
those similarities meet expectations
I’m unfamiliar in situations
So I stand out and people notice
makes me a target for jokers
assumptions always go with stupid
they humiliate the dumb kid
I grew up as this repeated
getting judged then mistreated
attention that left me deflated
for getting noticed I grew hatred
But I learned from repetition
patterns indicate intentions
minds are placed in my direction
testing leads to destinations
The destination is the laughter
social acceptance comes thereafter
at my expense while I am laughed at
now I’m grown you shouldn’t do that
Not because I will hurt you
nor will I avenge the plot
I just know what you are up to
as it happens quite a lot
Most people would call them out
speaking out to stop the process
let them know what they’re about
not me though allowing progress
because I’ve seen all this before
they’re always the insecure
with egos shrinking miniature
get me the egos restored
people communicate a sequence
they see then realise and they watch
the extra interest easily sensed
then actively test what I’ve got
And I’ve learned to lead them on
show them their judgement ain’t wrong
if I’m oblivious they’ll go again
in front of others to show them
And in a room in view of all
they’ll do what they did before
acting cocky feeling assured
and that is when they’ll look fooled
I’ll lead you to the trophy
let you put one hand on it
before it’s rip unknowingly
and you look like an idiot
In front people you got watching
the ones who heard you mocking me
that last second loss is shocking
humiliated purposely
The ones who play this game ain’t nice
they try it once but never twice
in their heart they’re cold as ice
they thought I’m here to sacrifice
Into my heart you quickly crash
Do not take off in a flash
After you made me jump
With a caring loving thump
My heart you rescussitated
All my sorrow is deflated
Now I'm breathing slow and steady
I've been waiting, now I'm ready
To begin my life anew
With someone as sweet as you
The breeze you swept in my direction
Blew me away with your affection
I've waited for patiently
I came alive instantly
The moment your eyes met mine
Making me cross a line
I promised I'd never do
Now I am thinking it through
As I step onto the other side
Of a line a mile wide
I have drawn to protect me
From all of the misery
I was surrounded by for years
But now all my happy tears
Are washing that line away
Replaced by a new promise
I'll never ask for more than this
I heard the door open. It was Leeza (Lisa’s 14-year-old sister),
she’d been out on a date. I was the only one in the living room
as she came in and sagged, dejectedly onto the huge, white
sectional couch, right next to me. She looked positively
deflated. Which is unusual because up until now,
she’s been all freckles and smiles
Ok, here’s where we get poetic and rhyme, with innuendo and allusion:
Me: “Did you have a good time?”
Leeza: “No but I was trying.”
Me: “Did he get handsy—the swine?”
Leeza: “Argh! No—but his kisses are a crime.”
I gasped: “You didn’t give him a climb!?”
Leeza “NO!” she said, somewhat horrified.
Me (trying to be neutral): “No judging, it would have been.. fine (I lied).”
Leeza: “That’s never going to happen.”
“Good,” I declared, “he was just a distraction—and, you know Santa.”
“What about Santa?”
Whew, that’s enough of THAT (rhyming business).
She asked, so, yeah, I sang it.. I had to.
“He knows who you’ve been kissing,
what you’re thinking when you’re awake,
he knows if you’ve been bad or good—
he’s kind of like a cop that way.”
After a moment's silence Leeza asked,
“Is there something creepy about that?”
“Only if you think about it.” I admitted,
as she put her head on my shoulder.
.
.
A song for this:
Fairytale of New York (feat. Kirsty MacColl) by The Pogues
.
.
A Christmas Playlist! There’s 6 days til Christmas (and Hanukkah)
www.daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_25.mp3
Feeling displaced, misplaced, and suffocating
Running low on oxygen hyperventilating.
Debilitating trying to keep pace running the same simple human rat race
1st place
But no golden medal is won well, not that I anticipate
No, not for simply existing through change under a bright fireball we call sun in exchange for human life, and so a new legacy is born and past well preserved yet still
Alone even amongst the billions of earth civilians
Isolated. Self-love and esteem deflated
Rushing to keep up in this long-distance jog we call life , living , allowing the universe to do as it wills with us until we die
You know, the little sparks that keep the sun ignited that's us, until our bright falls dark and even still some are
trying to keep some part of hope alive with breath inside of a skin spirits grave site. That moves, isn’t stagnate, and still 6 feet under humanity's crushing needs to feel accepted when I hardly even started to accept me
society and old thinking will be the death of the old me
A new me has taken the seat
I've crowned myself the abiding solider, still a mere human being with fresh thoughts, open space to stretch, inhale exhale
Patient with each breath No longer Rushing or making plans which have already been set
I am righteous, lovingly worthy of more than past versions of me who were less than deserving
So, changing those ideas of who I am and what I deserve will allow me to breathe with ease. No more gasping for air with an oxygen mask. I've made the decision to change how I view myself today in the light of something greater than my vision will ever display or thoughts can accordingly convey