It's ok to write poems and put them here

I don’t want to find a new home
I don’t want to listen to the Gymnopédies again
I don’t want the door to close
I don’t want to sit on the stairs, listening

My dog wet my bed
I love her all the more for it

I no longer want to be outstanding
I only want to be happy
and when I fall out of it
as one must
to be able to come back
like a home, a happy home
that stays
which is on an old map

I want to nail the Chopin on my deathbed
in front of a captive audience
gathered to hear some final jokes
but I play a Nocturne instead
perfectly, the trill hits the optimum
my uncle says “I didn’t know he could play”
and I look back and say “and you didn’t know him”
and die, just like that
and my uncle gives everything to charity
every last cent

revised

I don’t want to find a new home
I don’t want to listen to the Gymnopédies again
I don’t want the door to close
I don’t want to sit on the stairs, listening

My dog wet my bed
I love her all the more for it

I don’t want to be outstanding
I just want to be happy
and when I exit
as one must
to be able to come back to the happiness
like a home, an old home
which stays in one place
in a telephone book
on an old map

I want to nail the Chopin on my deathbed
in front of a captive audience
gathered to hear some final jokes
but I play a Nocturne instead
I want to nail the trills, especially
my uncle says “I didn’t know he could play”
and I look back and say “and you didn’t know him”
and die, just like that
and my uncle gives everything to charity
every last cent
and then maybe he dies too

still ironing the kinks out of this one

-
How long can this last,
our pointless nightlong slog through
this soupy morass?

The soles of our shoes
are thickly coated with mud
and for what, a ruse?

Picking at this crud
with sticks that keep snapping off.
This path is a dud.

Now I have a cough
on top of holes in my gloves
I drink from the trough

Glasses all fogged up.
What if we went home, sweet home?
But who can we trust?

My mouth starts to foam
at the thought of how to leave.
Can I be alone?

I think I believe
there is comfort in structure.
I need some routine.

But I don’t know much.
Merely waking up some days
can take some gumption.

If a voice would say
Right Now, Immediately
Full Retreat, Post Haste

Could I hide my glee?
Should I be stifling my joy
while full on sprinting?

When I was a boy
I would laugh until it hurt.
Patched up corduroy.

An iron-on shirt
with characters from Star Wars.
Nails covered in dirt.

Now my throat is hoarse
From yapping about what ought
to be, in due course

Our expected lot,
Rather than boggy water
and depressing thoughts.

New cannon fodder
hanging on to ropes dangling
from helicopters.

Put a fork in me
How long would I sing a song
which has no ending?

I guessed for too long
at questions with no answers
but I was not wrong.

missiles fall on distant kiev
this counts as merely minor peeve
we knows what sides our breads is buttered
let no apologies be uttered
when all is said and all is done
a terrys lots a happy one
toe rag to riches, doughty yeoman
to cuntish twentieth century roman

― Ár an broc a mhic (darraghmac), Thursday, 3 March 2022 16:47 (five hours ago) bookmarkflaglink

what's sad is that this all started in an effort to be more concise. i get bored at some of my long poems while reading them, sometimes, so i'm sure it's much worse for everyone else. so someone suggested haiku but of course i needed more than 3 lines. still, 51 lines is shorter by my standards, and the average length of each line is only 5.667 syllables so it's faster than normal

here is the revised version, which is now called About Quitting

How long can this last,
our pointless nightlong slog through
this soupy morass?

The soles of our shoes
are thickly coated with mud
and for what, a ruse?

Picking at this crud
with sticks that keep snapping off.
This path is a dud.

Now I have a cough
on top of holes in the gloves
I found in the trough

Glasses all fogged up.
What if we went home, sweet home?
But who can we trust?

My mouth starts to foam
at the thought of how to leave.
Can I be alone?

I think I believe
there is comfort in structure.
I need some routine.

But I don’t know much.
Merely waking up some days
can take some gumption.

If a voice would say
Right Now, Immediately
Full Retreat, Post Haste

Could I hide my glee?
Should I be stifling my joy
while full on sprinting?

When I was a boy
I would laugh until it hurt.
Patched up corduroy.

An iron-on shirt
with characters from Star Wars.
Nails covered in dirt.

Now my throat is hoarse
From yapping about what ought
to be, in due course

Our expected lot,
Rather than the swamp water
and negative thoughts.

New cannon fodder
hanging on to ropes dangling
from helicopters.

Put a fork in me
How long would I sing a song
which has no ending?

I guessed for too long
at questions with no answers
but was I all wrong?

-
i think it sounds nice read aloud, because of the interweaving rhyme scheme and the concise, consistent number of syllables from the haiku setup. i recognize that without constraints, i just go on and on and on, here and in what i work on, whether i'm painting and accumulating or recording a million tracks or talking endlessly. it's good for me, at least occasionally, to get a STOP signal, or at least a small box to put things in

here is a spoken version

I am in favour
Just now, let's say my "auntie"
lives in my Maw's house

Tends to leave me notes
I come in from pub some nights
Find stuff on table

"your cat has puked up"
Mostly shit like that or such
I'm not too impressed

She wrote in haiku, but I bosed up to her
Told her to work on her meter
she scoffed at me, said just wait on ma mer
but I knew I could beat her

She lorded over me like every night
I said "try working in sonnets"
"aye, nae chance!", but it sparked a light
And I took something from it

Auntie Dorothy, aiutandeme
ma cosé pensa Voi?
Andare a bagno, scrivo per te
Che cosa trovate poi?

Underrate me? Fuck you Dot
Sonnets in Italian? Fuck Yeah, the lot

(pretty rough Italian, but genuinely wrote while she was in toilet and maybe pretend it's Tarantino which it's not but I'm banking on no one knowing one way or the other)

Nothing but apologies for previous. Still drunk but eh

Every time the song plays
I grip my knuckles white
Not a big deal, I recall the breathing exercises
so we exit the situation okay

But then maybe My Mother entrances
(when my knuckles still white)
"who's this boy?", I turn red-eyed
make some semblence of a shrug

"oh the guy jumped off the bridge?"
Just focus on the screen
"oh yeah, I heard some blather nonsense..."
CONCENTRATE ON THE SCREEN!

Recall them exercises? Now's a good time to practise
(we're not stabbing no eyes today)
That big news you wanted to share? Cough
Maybe save it til next week

My mother smirks, I make coffee
Liverpool don't play til dmorrae..

god, My Mother

How long does it take for someone to crack?
How soon before they're in the nutty shack?
How long for someone to lose their marbles?
For their cards to fall on the table?

How much pressure can you take?
How many straws before you break?
How much stress can you handle?
Before you're blown out like a candle?

It’s that time of year
for the first time
since it happened

I’ll remember what I can on his birthday, later this month
He would have been sixty-seven
Four days later I’ll remember his death
Undefeated
Always on the way
The arrival seen coming but sudden all the same
The before and the after
What gets shaken out of all of us

When death comes knocking you don’t hear it
No need to worry, someone will answer the door
or else it well let itself in

By the time you smell death it’s already down the throat
The first scent is a signpost at the end which reads

All Roads Meet Here
Final Merge
Turn Off Car
Remove Keys From Ignition
Wait

I would like to be asked
to go outside
to flat out lie
down on the sidewalk
to see and be seen
by the others
up and down the street
who were asked to do the same as me
to step out of our housing units
silently
the neighborhood strangers
who lost everything
the one in thirty-three who have a close relative who died
a lot of us did not say goodbye
I would lay my forehead on the cement
until I am serene
and wait for others to join me

There is no national day of remembrance
because it’s still happening
because a lot of people are invested in it being overblown
because we had to get used to it

One can imagine opening the door to the inevitable
with a line long memorized
calmly methodical
looking it straight in the eye and saying
Why you’re right on time

Or, slamming and bolting the door
that should be enough, right
though maybe stacking a couch against it can only help
Any time at all which can be bought is worth it
only a second more is to die for

Or, ripping off the bandages
marching straight through hell without a guide
shaking the foundation
unholy primal screaming
we’re all innocent
or none of us are
it doesn’t make a difference

The weapons of mass nonsense are proliferating
Strangers explain comorbidities to me
explain vaccines are destroying my fertility
explain alternative treatments
explain the government did not want me to see the data
explain comorbidities reacting with the vaccines
and the only possible treatments were part of an elitist scheme
involving the world bank and UN and CDC and Bill Gates
and the Great Reset and Planet X
the entire Biopharmaceutical industry
I can’t sleep, I can’t sleep
it’s all been written, don’t you see, we see it
that they actually want this to keep this so-called pandemic going

My blood runs cold
It would be better to go numb instead
Much easier to nod and play along to their song
Yes, ivermectin, very interesting
this and that study, incredible

(Keeping the rebuttals unstated
maybe even not thought of at all
ideally)

I spent some time with The Atlantic article
“Why America Became Numb to COVID Deaths”
and it made me think about why I became numb to Americans

There are endless forms of escapism
I do it too
We all have to do it

Still, If you can’t say anything nice
well, you’re fucked, I guess
Right? In this instance
You’re supposed to grin and bear it
pretend like they make sense

You’re supposed to say it is what it is but
I refuse to accept that it is what it is
because everything changes and that’s as it should be
things that are about to be, approaching
that’s what is happening, along with what already is

The bathroom within a bathroom is easy to find
You walk into the outer bathroom, then say
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
Then you’ll know the way

Man rules the day with his calls and computer,
Deliberate, restless, engorged with the fluid of importance,
He stands astride his home office as a Colossus.

His only match, the night’s master,
The swift and furry specter that undoes his hard work
Swiping at air pods, glasses, the spoils of civilization itself.

When the sun rises, man must rebuild
The broken city leveled by his rival.
O the Sisyphean joys of owning a cat!

I was gunna write something HATEFUL
Cus I woke up thinking of that boy again
But everytime I wash my body
I forget everything

Or just cook something, that works too
Hoi, maybe pop some corn!
Aye hush, I'm banned from using hot oil
But frankly the grownups can fuck each other

My shoulders hurt from hunching
My knuckles hurt from clenching
My feet have lost all feeling from the stupid way I'm crouching
My back hurts from I donno idolatry I guess

Last week I thunk you up a masterpiece
I had it down to punctuation in my head förfan
Then I took a shower
And it all whirled down the drain

"I'd rather write a symphony"
You used to play that song constalike
I hated it then, cus offentill I need to sleep
But I hate it still, from memory

Just because

that's my favorite of yours that i've read, JHM

and i love treesh entering the fold!

You gave me dispensation to invent words! I membered midways.

Sometimes this crowd sounds like a choir of angels
Sometimes everything tumbles on the the floor and bursts open
Sometimes I just need to blow my nose
My chest hurts

I also love treeship, jennalike

Let's play DEVOLUTION Baby!
I found a comfy rut right here
Oh I'm sorry, the birds are dying?
B-b-but there's a defibrillator

2.6 miles from pub, 0.1 from my sofa
(but yeah, that's all uphill)
Think about it, it's perfectly placed
Imma outlive erry one of youse fools

Sometimes this crowd sounds like a choir of angels
Sometimes everything tumbles on the the floor and bursts open
Sometimes I just need to cough up some blood
Sometimes I just need a duvet to hug

My knees hurt from kneeling
My teeth hurt from sugar, and clenching
Because of YOU
(yeah, THEM, but also YOU)

Cut my hair for you
Going broke buying solid color shirts
A mason jar for pencil shavings

my last one was way the fuck too long, here is a one minute version that's slightly edited

All Roads Meet Here
Final Merge
Turn Off Car
Remove Keys From Ignition
Wait

I would like to be asked
to go outside
to flat out lie
down on the sidewalk
to see and be seen
by the others
up and down the street
the neighborhood strangers
who were asked to do the same as me
to step out of our housing units
silently
the neighborhood strangers
the one in thirty-three who lost everything
many of us did not get to say goodbye
but I did, I had my ten minutes, alone
I would lay my forehead on the cement
until I am serene
and wait for others to join me
that is how I want the remember
just me and the others
all of us together

Jennalike Baby, calm yer fucken heels
You've maybe smoked yersel to death
"Young George, Son Of George", wind yer neck in
KovaKovaKovacic, take a deep breath

I'll smirk, fingerguns, I know the teenagers rate me
While the fireworks whizz past my head
Throw your fingers up, quote that line from what film?
I will elegise you when you're dead

Siccemmup Curtboy, I know yer fucken holding
We been this road too many times before
You got your spot, the rest of the room is mine
The other business we'll just whistignore

Boom did ye feel that? the whole room rumbled
I'll ride this rug like A Lad In Hell
If I give you this French chalk just promise me
You'll draw a line around where I fell

poems are hard to justify
but easier to understand than the stock market

if i had the discipline to write a petrarchan sonnet
i would

There Is Not Here

Here is another letter
Letter to the editor

Editor of the opinion pages
pages her boss to discuss the document
document the date it was received
Received too late to answer

Answer he couldn’t accept
Accept nothing but regrets
Regrets we all share, except
Except perhaps the one there in the back

Back in the time of beepers
beepers could arrange a talk with powerful men
Men whose family owned the town newspaper
Newspaper revenue would be declining
Declining steadily ever since, for years
Years and years when the advertisers left
left for the internet
internet perpetually under construction

Construction without interruption
interruption via a botched intervention
intervention rejected and buried
buried twelve feet deep
deep in the woods off the mind’s highway

Highway lines twisting and vanishing
Vanishing off of the pavement
Pavement lines becoming disorienting
disorienting and dissipating
Dissipating until the heart is still
Still, we keep going until
Until we know that we’re there
There is not here

Don't bosie up to me, ye fucken child
There's one key difference tween the two of us
You've drunk "14 beers!", hmmm is that number just random?
I don't drink, I'm just waiting on the bus

Yeah I know fine well we're both "medded up"
Is your cat also waiting outside?
I lied to the doctor, I lied to you just now
My cat isn't outside, my cat died

You want to hang with the grownups?
Well, I've got some advice for you
Is that Diazepam? Just hoard it
At least for a day or two

Yeah cos we can't afford to drink every day
And the scrip isn't all that strong
Drink all weekend, then double meds from monday
If the voddy even lasts that long

Oh, your best mate's got Ritalin?
Well that's of no interest to me
Get up to the high school, sell it to children
Come back here, fan the bills out, then we'll see...

Not happy, my constant deletions to deliberately remove context harmed this one, I wanted to make clear the creeping nazification of the youth (like when they've drunk exactly 14 beers, or bet 88 on the duck race on gala day), and also the lying to the doctor is that you aren't currently drinking, in order to acquire benzos. I don't feel either of those things come across in this version, I'll rewrite it (spoiler: I won't). Also I just realised my stream of conciousness switched from me as an elder being harassed by youth to me as a youth being intimidated by elders and that doesn't work at all. SHUT IT DOWN

Find the cord in the toilet
Find the correct glass when you stumble back to the room
Follow my finger slowly with your eyes
Follow the street back to your mammy's house
It's a pretty baller move if you ask me
Pass out on the kerb, roll down the street
You've played crazy golf, it works exactly the same, work the angles
You'll wake up in the gutter pretty close to where you want to be

Crazy Golf? Don't get me started on that
8 under par, let's call it a Phoenix
Found 10 kroner on the walk over the dunes
Already dropped it by the ice cream shack
At 8 years old that felt like a mass execution
The hateful look from your father made you sink into the sand
The look from the other kids somehow felt even worse
I'm sorry, no ice cream today

So let's never play golf again
Also you're dreaming if you think I'm getting back in those little cars
First time it died on me, everyone laughed
Second time my brother... well let's not talk of that
But I always loved being inside the big man
I had the skill for it, slipped between levels
No one ever found me until I turned up for the barbecue
Walked away from that, found a quiet place, and just prayed

Yeah seriously, I used to pray
Til my knuckles and knees felt the same numbness as each other
My whole body achieved a sense of unity
Then I'd walk back to the fire

Lookee Lady, you know I love you
But consider for a mintytoo
If this was 500 years ago
You'd be BURNT AS A WITCH!

Yeah calm down, these are your best qualities
You're outspoken, as is your bahgiven right
I'm just saying, in ye olden times
You'd be BURNT AS A WITCH!

Fucksake, stop hitting my head
My heart will bust if you keep up with that gaze
Just imagine 1542 if I didn't speak up for you
Yeah you died in a fire

Track and Field, Baby! Make me FEEL!
Living is easy when your window points East
"The Secret Life Of Plants" on repeat til the sun melts the vinyl
We can play any boardgame with an exclamation in the title

Today's drug is Promethazine, No Thank You Lady
That shit will just slow me down
I'll stick with lager, and a punch to the chest
From (genuinely) my oldest friend

Portraits of LOSERS, portraits of my enemies
A dart through that postcard of Churchill
A blade for the neighbours, the scribes and the Pharisees
A jog round the Den, then go home and pass out

You’re not here
You’re not in your urn
You’re not up there
or down there, either

You know what I mean by that

You’re gone

Emo Kid, count to three, is this where you want to be?
Someone somewhere's thinking of your legacy
Eat the bunny ears and smile cus that's all you'll get tonight
Novel handytowels, but I still gave you a fright

Shave your face off in the mirror, Twist And Shout then count to ten
Chips are falling, we've just got to work out when
The walls are moving in, peel your scabs then spin for days
Your family is judging you in many different ways

Drop your pocks, clear them out, just flip out what you're able
We'll close our eyes and then count what's on the table
If you caught me looking you too must have had a peek
Fuck you I'm short, you still owe me from last week

Levarage the beverage, remind him what means most
His daughter lives on my sofa, makes both of us toast
Dunking foreheads but I'm the one who buys the bread
Except at Easter when it's bunny ears instead

Nah I'm not fucking that girl on the sofa
She's far too young, and sometimes the wrong gender
But every morning she brings black coffee to my bed
we touch foreheads, I close my eyes, we kiss on the cheek
And for those few seconds I am calm

I pass her father in the streeet
He's only a few years older than me
We nod at each other, and continue our business
We've never discussed the elephant in the room
That is, that his daughter lives on my sofa

Every so often I have visitors
Old schoolfriends, fuckbuddies, or family members
They don't understand why this girl's on my sofa
And I can't really explain
At least not in a way they'd grasp

I can't even remember how it started
I think she just needed somewhere to stay
But the single thing I know
I LOVE HER
And at this point I don't think I could live without her

Fuck what you heard, I wasn't present for the drainpipe bisnes
I was at my mother's for tea
I could say who the perpetrators were, but I ain't no snitch
It's established by now tho, all three

I also wasn't present when the pub blew up
But everyone now accepts that was an accident
It made the news, fucksake, there's thrash songs about it
"I left the gas on..." is the best final line ever

The second time the village has been on the news
And at least for once they got the name right
Oh wait, no, third, there there was that time we had a "gun siege"
Plus the obvious impalation

While we're here, Fuck Donald Trump too
He vocally hated our windmills
But those paid for two defibrillators
With enough change for a statue of James Taylor

Widdly widdly woo, kerchunk "I left the gas on..."

Duvet system, damn, I fucken missed them
Too many parents just fucken burn my fucken eyes
Scour up to Dundee, I forgot to fucken listen
Too many knifewounds and far too many lies

Breathe the signifiers, at some point it just got funny
"monna cook for us". it's all a fucken joke
Driedel substitutes, some day it will get better
Flip a coin, spare the ox and spare the yoke

1743, monna guess the significance?
No point trying, I just made that out of cloth
Drovers count for summat, hoi moderate your language
Count the sins, you're at least at two or Sloth

Several diversify, "Zoomers" are a thing now
Multiple weapons but they're all cased in Yon Room
Your offspring lactify, mines if it counts multiply
My fake children all maybe all just tick tick boom

Fillerup!

Pull up the hood and take a look
if you would

Top off the fluids
Check the air on my spare
Rotate the tires
Wipe the windows
Drain the oil
I’ll take the synthetic

Put a mileage reminder on the windshield
if you would

Power-Vac the muddy floor
Pour fresh water into the gallon jugs and
Perfectly park the car
Four inches from the curb

Insert the chip and leave a tip
Enter the telephone number
Member benefits increment
We’ll do it again in three thousand miles

On the way home I forgot to turn the music on
Sitting and moving in silence
Pure driving excitement
Taking the scenic route out of habit

I used to lean into the curves and accelerate
I drove way too fast on country roads
But I knew them like the back of my hand

But I was also scaring my friends
I knew that and kept doing it
That’s why they got mad
I deserved worse than that

I used to flip the headlights off
at night
For a second
Sometimes a few
Sometimes laughing as I did it
I thought I was making a point about chance
or how frivolous our existence is

What a mess I made
When people were trying to be my friend
And sometimes
They would laugh, too
I think they were trying to understand where I was coming from
even after surviving a
Night drive in total darkness

True blue, true blue
I know where we’re going to
No one says my voice is soothing
but you say you do

Now I drive the speed limit
I get home and make a meal that I’ve planned
I go to bed at the normal time

I am not expecting forgiveness
I am hoping for much more than emptiness
I want to regain faith in the public interest
I’d like to be a fountain
Replenishing and not subtracting
A wellspring to the creek
The one you want to see when things get bleak

Love that second half

In fact after pacing the living room early morn, smoking and drinking, I realised what song it was niggling me to play, it was Blackness by Arab Strap. Summat about speeding deadeyed through country roads. So I listened to that song and it was great and I can go back to bed now thank you

firstup flip a coin, wave your hands it's gone for good
glaze in your eyes gives away your route to food
secondov multililly and just take a mint to breathe
they know finewell other card is up your sleeve
thirdface nonexistent, fingerguns and that's your lot
take deep breathe and whoosh reflect on all forgot
jankiyell the last time, this one for all the marbs
we'll feed yer maw if they agree to stick to carbs

rousen up the deadbones pick the cat up down yon lane
take two interventions to decide whose drum to blame
lather up pianner and spin it twice for luck
start lines with a zed if it gets you out the muck
seventeen is evergreen, no one walks out clean
no respect for patter but they all loved the lean
burn the dismal sentinels, what's yer backyard for?
bumpbumpbomp y'rellers when you pick me off the floor

clever kids and flauty fuds are running the estate
scurvy son bought flashybangs but turned up far too late
jennyfash is judging me, i think i look no bad
line it up on front lawn, the best we ever had?
the rescue chooks admittedly are balder than expected
but layman overbooks are better when reflected
protect the squinty mammies from all selfmade young teams
come spend a day here and you'll work out what that means

actually, switch "overbooks" for "copybooks"

also "multililly" should be "lilywhites"

Now Can You See Me

Last we spoke we were in the woods
I had eaten two or three mushroom heads
and went to find the tallest, thickest tree
I wasn’t looking for epiphany
but there really was a very, very long moment
staring up at the structure of its development
still growing at the tips

when the sun really did burst out from behind the clouds
and found its way through the April limbs and leaves
so beautifully that I fell to my knees

and thought about when all the light shone for one
and what if that could happen to us all
so I could be with you again and undo what had been done

In the April Wisconsin breeze
My rented cabin visible through the trees
the tears filling up the bottoms of my eyes
knowing that it wasn’t happening
and the clouds were quickly coming back
I offered a compromise toward the sky

Please
Can you at least see me
Trying, trying
See me struggling
Struggling with what you said

Though I completely rejected your method
You couldn’t see an alternate
Most nights I couldn’t wait to drive off and forget

Thinking, you can’t catch me
You won’t see me

The difference between now and then is
an understanding that we both believed
in things that could never be proven
like keeping going when you’re losing badly
or treating a one-way conversation with the wind
as a turning point in a relationship

I want to let go of all of it
Except these things

You taught me to trust myself
You didn’t try to argue with me
You believed that I had decent reasons
Even if you didn’t understand them
You were very patient with me
Would that I have offered the same to you

The sun was covered again
the tallest tree dropped the last leaves from last year
as the wind picked up
and the linseed oil kept my palette wet
back at the cabin
thinking, now that you can’t catch me
now can you see me

I just did something brave
I just did something bad

Something of an itinerant
burning books of magic

An old memory, perfected
looping
disintegrating
recorded, listened
I listen

Something of a Scavenger

I can be found
Digging through discarded matter
Finding things I had forgotten
Turning back the corners of rotten calendars
Covered up with coffee grounds and egg shells
Every day is a field day for the earthworms

The mess left behind after an explosion
Waking up in a different zip code

So often, it’s after an ending
when we finally begin
to walk again with a sense of purpose
I saw myself making another promise

to forget the past and

to try to come back to being in the moment

but if that is living, as I speak now or as you hear it
then what is it when we are dreaming
when we submit to the moment’s whims
Sensing another and catching a glimpse
of unrepeatable depths of subconsciousness

You try to go back and it looks like mist

Moving through walls that shift
like sand sifting through
cracks in the ceiling
Throw a tarp over the most expensive
Rug that keeps going and going

A long conversation turning in on itself

(I try to turn the light back on)

The lost can be found
Looking for traces of their lives in the remains
of a time that still feels frozen

All those hand moves you've beem mocking me for?
I've been trying to restrain, but I've decided NO MORE
Imma let them run rampant, but you deserve a cheatsheet
Just so in future you know what I'm going for

First off, that two fingers against the thumb?
That's the standard, it just means I'm thinking
Maybe I can't find the right word
It's called STIMMING, never call me out for that

Secondly, the wave that follows, accidentally towards your face?
That just means I'm finished with my thought
I never meant to threaten violence towards you
Not just now, or any other of them times

Thirdly, the drumming on the bar?
It accompanies the subtle gaze around
Maybe some teuchter in here wants to do me harm
It never hurts to be cautious

The full-on hand swivel, originates at the wrist?
fingers splayed, while I'm in conversation
That means I don't trust that person
Get me out, please somehow GET ME OUT

The clenched fists, rubbing up and down my jeans?
Means I can tell that somehow I've fucked up
I don't get facial cues but I can tell by your vocal tone
That I'll prolly walk home tonight

With a bang of the gavel
the time to travel arrives.

Aching and weary
I say my teary goodbyes.

The prisoner in my mind
is in no kind of condition

to note our cognitive dissonance
ever since he stopped listening.

To me it was the crime
and the hard times that followed

which made the sound of my advice
to change our life ring so hollow.

Somebody had to keep the plates spinning
when I was sinning in the wilderness.

But it was then that my inner voice
made a choice to narrate my mess

It began to influence the movement of my body.
I sensed it plotting to change my direction

and pushed back against its arrangements
to swerve my ship around icy obstructions.

I think we both tried to take the helm
and quell the other’s resistance

If we were thirsty for plot development
for a moment it was quenched.

My wreck was accompanied by sad violins.
Since then it’s mostly been the silent treatment.

Unanswered questions
festering intent.

The great editor in the sky
realizes there will be no mending

of an independent film
with a horse-sized pill of an ambiguous ending

revision

The prisoner in my mind
was in no kind of condition

to note our cognitive dissonance
ever since he stopped listening.

To me it was the crime
and the hard times that followed

which made the sound of my advice
to change our life ring so hollow.

Somebody had to keep the plates spinning
while I was sinning in the wilderness.

But it was then that my inner voice
made a choice to narrate my mess

It began to influence the movement of my body.
I sensed it plotting to change my direction

and pushed back against its arrangements
to swerve my ship around icy obstructions.

I think we both tried to take the helm
and quell the other’s resistance.

We were thirsty for plot development.
For a moment it was quenched.

The wreck was accompanied by sad violins.
Since then it’s mostly been the silent treatment.

Unanswered questions
festering intent.

Two bodies in water that is choppy
with temperatures dropping rapidly.

In the last days of the storm
I ached for his reformed voice to speak back to me.

I wanted our feet back on the ground.
but my efforts amounted to nothing.

I only had myself to thank.
My heart sank while we were floating.

Sank to the very bottom of the ocean
A motion to plead guilty.

Guilty to the very last drop.
But which things should I stop doing.

With a bang of the gavel
the time to travel arrives.

Nodding and weary
I say my teary goodbyes

to the other side of my reflection
the section that once tried

It’s not my farm to sell.
Tell them truth or tell them lies.

through a combo of my computer being destroyed, trying to do some weird bullshit via the accessibility options accessible via pressing the power button 3 times in succession, some bad luck, and some worse judgment, i somehow completely destroyed my Notes file of poems. i posted a lot of them on here, but i almost always updated them afterward and changed a lot of things. i am an idiot. but that's ok. i feel like a tornado just destroyed everything, and it's nice to start with nothing in some ways

:(

Seventyskyline, look west and then lie
I've met yer imaginary friend
Seriously we gunna start on them boys?
Kevincusin always looked out for yerma

the devintyfellas have a deep lefteye
eyeball straight at yer family
Whose got their hand up? I only count one or two
I shout for Ceirwen, the only one bornteshit

and then the room shout kicks you out of your reverie
show your hands, naw, it's not important
you know this kids, naw skid just back off of it
you found your corner, just take deep breaths and then wut

Imembered this boy, for whatever it's worth
Duntree algoth, I still member him stillstill
Hands off me, I REMEMBER THAT EVENING
Flock yer pockets, you know it's the truth

i almost always updated them afterward and changed a lot of things

the important changes happened in yer brain. don't reset it to the factory defaults and yer ok.

Levanti child, pick yourself from the floor
"devinty" means there's twenty of them or more
Solitude solitude, then shout for help with math singular
The uni fuck just forgot what I said

Lebben birthdaycakes you'll feel in the morning
Lebben Smarties for a skelp from yer maw
Boycott Nestle for a wink from the old yin
Boycott Tuesday, shouting into the void

KLF doc, I think The Kid almost gets it
Solitude onetime means the sqaure root of one
Flip all cards you please, they all say the same thing
I'll just squint and pretend I see your face

Foxtrot to instructions but I wasn't listening
Realike vertract to a number of sins
Throw the pills up high, they'll come down in slow motion
The retelling said they sparkled in the air

Maybe stop slurring your words, just replace "bornteshit"with "born to this shit". Also not happy with "then wut" but I have no solution for that, "what" would be an improvement but still not correct. No memory of what "Duntree algoth" was meant to mean but I'm happy to roll with that cus I like it aesthetically. The second part seems legit IT'S ALL ONE POEM!