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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/2141761-World-By-Design/sort_by/entry_order DESC, entry_creation_time DESC/page/5
Rated: GC · Book · Personal · #2141761
Poems exploring whether or not we create our world, through reflections past and current .
World By Design


Periods of personal upheaval, no matter the degrees of their importance, often make me wonder: Are we creating the world we live in, or to what extent is it predetermined based on the birth lottery we won/lost? How much of what we do is merely adapting, as opposed to building something new? I wanna use these ideas as the loose basis for this collection.

I expect a lot of these pieces to be personal yet vague; real yet surreal. Dark at times, but hopeful. Odd and poignant. Disturbingly therapeutic. While I have no shortage of life experiences to mine content from, confronting them and filtering the thoughts and emotions will at times be difficult- not just for me, but occasionally for the reader as well. The goal for this project is to dig a little deeper into myself, using the momentum from my recent collections to cut new grooves into the framework, I suppose...and if it's readable, that's a bonus.

Edit 11/2020: Are we living in a world created for us. or are we creating it as we go along? Is there an answer? I don't know if I know, or if I'm the one to consult on that.

Comments, compliments, and feedback of all kinds- good or bad- are most certainly welcome. It's not just my journey; we're in this together.

Sig for nominees          Signature for use by anyone nominated for a Quill Award in 2020
Best Poetry Collection
Previous ... 1 2 3 4 -5- 6 7 8 ... Next
October 10, 2018 at 12:51pm
October 10, 2018 at 12:51pm
#943136
5-17-18


I'm gonna get clean!          And
I'm gonna do it again!          And
I'm gonna get clean!          And
I'm gonna do it again
         and again
         and again!!!

And you can't stop me.
And you can't help me.
And you can't shake me.
You can't recreate me!

I'm not too old for this          and
I've been here before          and
I don't recommend this          and
there's gotta be more more more!!

And you can't shop me.
And you can't co-opt me.
And you'll wanna empathize
but just to capitalize.
And you can't stop me.
And you can't top me.
And you'll wanna empathize
but you won't contain me!!

...I've seen the worst...I've been the worst...
...I am the blessing and the curse...
October 10, 2018 at 12:45pm
October 10, 2018 at 12:45pm
#943135
5-12-18


I'm not here;
I'm just getting by.

         different pieces of different people
                   times
         a million remembrances of a million memories
                   but
         it doesn't equal one me
         it doesn't feel like it means
                   anything

I'm not here;
I'm just getting by.

         shattered screams from shattered dreams
                   means
         different pieces through varied means
                   but
         it doesn't agree with me
         and I don't agree with
                   anything

I'm not here;
I'm just getting by.
October 10, 2018 at 12:37pm
October 10, 2018 at 12:37pm
#943134
4-29-18


I brought salvation to a gunfight
but it couldn't save me;
both know more than I do
and I have no friends or enemies.
Devotion only gets you so far
until it becomes a crutch
so I guess you can ascertain
that I don't get around much.
I still have places to go
and I've still got room to grow
but maybe it isn't here;
"Here" isn't very clear.
I'm bringing patience to my past
but I'm longing for content;
can't change what has happened
no matter what is spent.
         Nothing's happened yet;
         I end up where I start.
         Carrying myself to a gunfight
         where I get blown apart.
October 10, 2018 at 12:32pm
October 10, 2018 at 12:32pm
#943133
4-21-18


The girl in my coma says "Don't be afraid!"
but it's not her experience to bear.
In here I can be anyone or anything
yet all I see is the same me.
A perpetual me. Clerically parallel
to who I am and what I believe.
There's no cracking out
and there's no release...
just trembles and warnings
and falsely secure reliefs
         promising light and love
         and wealth and hope
         tied in bows with
         glitter and a card that reads
         "Get Well Soon!"
         but you know you can't.
         No, you know you won't.
It's an everyday occurrence;
an obliteration of innocence
and a lack of trust when
most of the time it's "All The Above"
         but you're under.
Always an inch away
or a second or a minor change;
just one fleeting moment of purpose
from being able to hold my head high
like it was a good day.
Always there, in my sight...
but I'm falling away.
April 13, 2018 at 2:50pm
April 13, 2018 at 2:50pm
#932703
4-13-18


You're something few claim to see
and others barely believe in.
Home is where you make it-
         here,
         or there-
but you're wanted less
         anywhere.
Hidden in plain sight;
it's your right to change
and it's okay for you
to remain.

Living in a shell
of self...a blanket
of clouds shroud you out
and away...where you end up
isn't always
where you want to be,
but so what?
If you're somewhere, then surely
you must be someone...
says anyone.

You're a sight
         unseen.
You're a light
         disbelieved.
Hope is what you make of it-
         alone,
         on your own-
not what anyone else says
when they think they know
what's best for you.

Living in a shape
shifting...clay walking
untouched by the eyes of
strangers passing by...you're
anyone, wishing maybe
         upon maybe
to be someone...or
not just anyone.
March 9, 2018 at 3:15pm
March 9, 2018 at 3:15pm
#930316
3-9-18


Right around the time the hypothetical was practical
I wondered if my ideological self would go on sabbatical.
Tired from the synonym of fuckin' with phenomenons
to see that the mess you're in is not the end but just beginning
is still the end of somewhere serious. What gives
when life is on the line...what's supposed to live?
Every bad decision needs a place to call home;
invasive and spacious, gracious and salaciously known
at the bar drunk-dialing every scar and regret.
The infection trumps the attraction to the fullest extent.
Spit another diatribe because a temptress can't hide
when you're dying from the insides of your left-behinds.
You tell me we can talk about it later but conveniently forgot
because I'm always worried about me...until I'm not.

I try to keep the conversation trimmed to "enjoy"
but the joy is on my nerves again like it's into destroying
all the pieces of the broken pieces I've saved of me.
Some say it's misery. I call it "company of self-inflicted conspiracy".
Another time, we'd close the tabs as if we had a purpose
but I buried those memories in boots that said
         "Thank you for your service."
March 9, 2018 at 3:04pm
March 9, 2018 at 3:04pm
#930314
2-28-18


I still see your friends,
expecting you slowly
to bound around the dark corners
but you're not hiding.
And we still say your name
not with the hushed dignity
survivors require,
but as an oath to
persevere unforgetting.

It could've been anyone;
maybe it should've been me.

It's true that little remains
the way you left it. Was
that the plan? Was
there even a plan?
Don't answer that;
there were better questions
but who has the mind
for knowing, or the
preparedness of revelations?

You couldn't stay           because
you couldn't be replaced.

We have too much time to think
and consume, or better,
to be consumed.
By our breaths. By our doubts.
And in these times we need
someone to blame. It's the
price we feel we need to pay
to heal, or reveal
what we fear the most in ourselves,
as if seeing you delivers
real beliefs for something
tangibly unexplainable.

I don't know what lies next.
I don't know what came before.

We're spending too much
on what we can't control.
See.          Touch.          Need.
I'm not the only one but I'm alone.
Unlike you, I'm you.
Exhaling us; inhaling you.
Every chance we get until we can't
and if it takes us too,
how will we not know
that's what we were meant to do?

It could've been anyone;
maybe it should've been me.
March 9, 2018 at 2:51pm
March 9, 2018 at 2:51pm
#930313
2-21-18


One digital twinkle of your titties
and a drunken lullaby of kisses
are all I think I deserve to sleep
beneath sheets warm in disbelief.
Am I who I said I was?
Are you aware of my because?
I said it in a sentence.
It was so us because I meant it.
Do I wonder? Yeah, I wonder.
I'm a poet, so I ponder.
It's not mimicry if it's meant to be
or society if this could possibly be
the potential for our personals
to become universal and between us all.
I'm not psychic. I'm not psychotic.
I don't understand behaviors but I'm tryin'
to revolutionize how we humanize
emotions to be sure that I
get you right, to get me right.
Maybe get us right. Maybe get us right.
More than a kinked twinkle. A first life.
The past lives aren't our afterlives.
One day at a time, we stay alive
in mind, in thought, in touch
'til we get that much. Never enough.
Maybe I don't like to speak up
or it doesn't sound so simple as such
but a broken spoonful of your sympathies
is a token lullaby of your missin' me.
March 9, 2018 at 2:42pm
March 9, 2018 at 2:42pm
#930312
2-13-18


Do you have a secret,
or are you expecting one?
I can't have enough but
thank you for asking, as if
I led you down that hole solely
for my own enjoyment.

Cuddle these eyes but mind the disguise.
Mine my thoughts. Eye my thighs.
Part my mentions. Pardon my intentions.
Park our minds beyond our behinds.

The library doesn't know you;
she'll kiss but sooner forget you.
Learning that love is a useless weapon
is priceless; ironic knowledge
for someone who should know better.
That's my open secret.
March 9, 2018 at 2:37pm
March 9, 2018 at 2:37pm
#930311
2-13-18


Let's start with an indictment,
and panic like it's priceless.
The goods move smooth like a slowed roll;
little did you know that's how you lose control.
Every sun sets like fractured Atlantics;
you'll never forget you won't remember your antics.
We can press pause or insert a clause
but every flaw remains inside their craw.

You weren't a tiger 'til you bought the zoo.
Man,          look at you.
You weren't lyin' 'til you thought you were true
but what the fuck else were you supposed to do?

Let's shoot down every argument
for the sheer cold fuck of it.
You thought you said what you thought you said
'til what you said was ridiculous.
But keep flappin' those gums.
It reminds you of us.
Everyone's a prayer that hasn't been answered;
we're still waitin' on personal disasters.

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