Uncoordinated Poems

At Least I Am Trying

Milk
I try to pour myself a glass of milk
The milk thinks the counter is a glass

Notebook
I try to grab my notebook to write this now
The notebook slips down to the ground

Doorway
I try to walk through a doorway
What could go wrong?
My toe stubs the solid wall

Music!
Music can heal anything! Hey, it’s my favorite song!
I’m dancing and singing at the top of my lungs
The best part is coming up
Then right before the big chorus drop
My ears are magically too small
And to my delight, the earbuds fall

Toast!!
What is easier than toast?! Even I could manage that!
The toaster is opened and lo and behold
The bread is black as black

Nutella!!!
“Nutella can fix anything!” I thought
So I run to fetch my gold
I turn the nob then bam! 
My head meets the corner, the sharpest corner in fact
Now my vision is blurry and a heart beats in my head
A doctor will be seen for that!

The Queen of Self Sabotage

Pleasure and pain 
Closely related
Weirdly uncoordinated

I run toward pain 
thinking it is pleasure
Until Bam 
It slays me
Chops off my head
Rolls my dendrites down 
Reality hill

I profess to despise
Pain and yet why do I
go kicking and screaming
wailing and dying into
situations that would give
me pleasure? Creating pain
where there did not have to be
any?

I am the queen of self sabotage.

Trump Sticks Out Like Sore Thumb

Trump Sticks Out Like Sore Thumb

Trump sure sticks out like a sore thumb;
Not only that he did appear to be dumb;
Was uncoordinated;
By everyone hated;
Even bit tongue when chewing his gum.

Jim Horn

Absurdity

Absurdity 

Behind the closed portal and the open door,
stands the lonely legless man with his paramour.
He is singing silently
in the peace of night violently
a nocturnal sunrise
of miserly giving called nameless
absurdity.

With the stroke of midnight and the bells of high noon,
is the sunless side of a bright full moon
it's florescence darkens
paths blocked by people smartly
stupidly cunningly planned on
lush arid land in
absurdity.

In the quiet of the day is a cacophony
the most pleasant of uncoordinated harmonies
an insane, intense lullaby
that deafens silently softly 
a song of shame haughtily
carries the same variation
of noise depravation for
absurdity.

My Tiny Umbrella House

May be life was not meant for the uncoordinated.

I look at life through an open window,

Always careful not to fall out of order.

I skim the hems of walls I have created 

And build myself a roof top.....

Just incase it rains.

Without hesitation I chase company away,

Only keeping mirrors of my unsolved sanity.

I look out in to the world through my transparent door

I alway wondered why that was,

but it saved me the trouble of ever opening it.

But now looking back I still ask my self 

How was I able to live in my tiny umbrella house?

Anthea Ghobede.

Id's Odyssey

What is self magnified, but life
   longing an impossible dream,
a tickling of inner cravings 
  as the voice of imaged splendor,
wherewithal's purpose
flourished in veritable endeavors
    of stylistic appropriations, 
 realistically mediating 'tween desire's
 yearning amidst clouded vapors
   dispersing recognition beyond
     declarations of id's odyssey,
an ideal in ego's transformation
  that which awakens
   substantial sustenance
        nourishing a spirited nature,
  a psychic boon, abstruse or surreal
       motivating individuality's
            creative impulses 
           differentiating experience's of
  uncoordinated instinctual trends
       amid uniqueness of the ultimate animus,
          'roused beyond mind-blowing intrinsic forces

Ages and Stages

Ages and Stages

What has happened through all the ages
And does it depend upon the stages
We are currently in or have been through
And how many germs on water pipes grew.

In a case they really did take the lead
For fresh, clean water was a stampede
And another thing that I should suppose.
No telling what it did to all their clothes.

After their out all had been falling
New, fresh water they started hauling
But by as all of the time had crept
How many may end up mentally inept.

Also a low tune they may sing
Once they see all of their off spring
They are not like victims of Columbine
Uncoordinated and can't walk a straight line.

Wonder what else is going to happen to
those poor kids let alone all of the adults.

James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet

The President of the United States

I reach into the attic of repressed memories
To vague dreams that could’ve been realised
That once seemed so vast and infinite
And all things possible and significant
To find a dusty disillusioned self portrait
Of how life’s been truly portrayed
Too gangly and uncoordinated to run
Introverted and deprived of fun
The starving kids in Ethiopia
I would grow to offer them a Utopia
A warm shelter and some clothes
An education and a bag of oats
When hunger hindered innocence’ play
Curable disease on their souls preyed
A great man wealthy and noble
Would rise to champion his people 
Painting the dark continent brighter days 
With love our greatest gift to the human race
And return some of it to orphans stolen by AIDS
When I become the President of the United States




08-20-2015

Contest:
Silent One's Childhood dreams

Bird Watching

She is so lovely and sweet
The sunny dress top shes wearing
Has me enthralled - unholy thoughts

Its over ten inches above the lovely knees
Its v shaped collar barely covering temptations
She has me so enchanted ensnared by her grace
She has my heart going crazy thoughts uncoordinated

I brace my self and ask for her cell number its obliged
Obliged with a heartwarming smile am almost tempted
To move in for the kill but i remember - unholy thoughts


To desire her is human and emotional ties may be so subtle
Yet they at times feel so right and the allure ever so tempting
But they catch one with the speed of a bullet.. love is for birds
Am bird watching and not hunting that's why am bidding my time



CODE 254
LKN

Waiting For Godot--Outside Mc Donalds

He's late
 Or am I early
 What time is it? 
Can't see 
The stars are uncoordinated. 
Whose in charge?
 What's with The mighty Mac wrappers 
congregation? 
Praying under the lamp post. 
Nature's corpse, 
Man's rubble,
 Who won? 
Stop thinking.
 That's enough, 
Never enough. 
Gonna go; 
Can't
 Godot.

Fillet o fish; 
Garlic mayonnaise. 
Existence Is a annoyance 
Feet hurt. 
Toes to big. Or socks to thick. 
That's enough; 
It's never enough.

Double cheeseburgers, 
With fries. 
Nature's dead, 
Cement Holocaust. 
Let them follow. 
Enough; 
Gotta go 
Can't; 
Godot .

The Telltale Tongue

Tyrannical,
tourette-ical,
tic-tic-tic-tic-tocking,
twisting, tangling, tumbling,
the words tie in tight Gordian knots
trying to flee the faltering tongue
in a staggering, staccato rhythm, 
sounds now chat, chat, chat, chattering 
out of his mouth as unpredictable 
and uncoordinated utterances; 
as if, as if, as if, AS....IF
they were bubbles, popping
as they rise, rise 
from the depths 
of the sea.

What Did I Do Wrong

What did i do wrong?

What did i do wrong 
I ask myself
Is it a crime 
I fell for you

What did i do wrong
I ask myself
Why dint you warn me
That you break heart

What did i do wrong
My heart is pumping
Did i push you too much
Please tell me...

What did i do wrong
Is it a crime
i fell you
I do love you
And you know it
Is my professing my love
The real wrong done

What did i do wrong
I do not know
And it hurts me
Cause days...
Without your voice
Has been an absurdist 
existence.

What did i do wrong
Please i need to know
Because i have been 
uncoordinated
Without your guidance
Thinking about what i did
Or did not do
Is freezing my heart
And its making my thoughts 
disjointed

What did i do wrong
Thats all i ask
I know you owe me nothing
But please i plead
Let me know.

Ice-Cream Baseball

As a new father I coached my little league son
 He was clumsy and uncoordinated
 Picked dandelions in the outfield
 Watched bumble bees fly and hum
Would run to a grounder and watch it stop
pick it up to throw it but it would drop
He enjoyed his team mates for they were friends 
He struck out more than hitting the ball
Funny thing was he would always run whether he did or not
How I wanted him to hit the ball so hard 
Perhaps a grand- slam homerun for him and my heart
But the greatness was in him- he was part of the team 
 His greatest joy was afterwards
When we’d all go get ice-cream

Alter Ego: (There's Something About Nora)

She wouldn't want to bore ya,
but there's something about Nora.

Things physical, not audi
fly away from her body,

Fail to nail the counter, 
hit the deck all around her-- 

A zillion spills to mop up:
coffee grinds, egg shells, & catsup.

"Magnificent Uncoordinated 
Movements," an old boyfriend said,

In and out of bed. Still, There 
Was Something About Nora.

Sincerely Me

I just wanted to say
I wish you could see how I felt
But instead all you see
Is someone different from you
Uncoordinated, eccentric, annoying
Strange, loud, immature
Don't lie to me because
I know that's what you think of me
I really hope one day you'll know
That I had a reason for being that way
Uncoordinated to have you catch me
Eccentric to get you to notice me
Annoying to see your reaction
Strange to test your loyalty
Loud to get you to hear me
Immature, just to be me
I really liked you
And I hoped to have a chance with you
Just once, one day 
That's all I have to say

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