longest time to leave behind this database
is the seconds between click-bait
rivers down the hillside
pour into the dam
dinner etiquette
forks in uni(s)on
they follow behind
haunting bathroom glass
i miss you... i miss you in those most random of moments. i forget to forget you, to let you go of you and memories.... i smell you randomly, i still feel your touch trace across my body. the visions of you filling my mind against my will. i can feel the emotions ripping through my heart as each flashes in my head..... why did you go ? i don't feel like you left but your absence has been filled with the memories of our times together. bittersweet limerence comes crawling in as i try to shut the door for the meories to stop. i miss you, i cant tell you or even lie to myself about it. i know i love you and my love wasnt enough, i screamed and pleaded with you to not leave.. to not abandon me. you were at doorway looking out.... here my pleas to growth with me, don't leave out of fear.... we can work through fear together. but you couldn't fight anymore. a moment flashed were i saw our future together.. what could have been? the places we would've went. the children we could have had, the beautiful memories we created. now im left in the floor scared and grieving of my life that could've been
IN AND OF DECEPTIVE RAINFALL
Rain fell down today,
The kids and I stayed inside;
Rainbowing our minds:-
We played, “Two Lies & A Truth”:
No matter how much rain falls,
We live—free, equal—lives:-
One slow motion jagged tear
found me after you left me here.
Its wetness still sits upon my face
as I stare at absolutely no place.
What I do live and what I dream
and all sundries fitting in between,
now struggle in a frenzied dance
passing thru, in and out, this circumstance.
My brain is mush circling a clueless groove.
Surely, I need an enlightened next move.
Calm failed to enter when you shut the door,
and life as I knew it quit being anymore.
I simply cannot find my identity.
Maybe it left with you and my clarity.
I seek to ease a primal urge to shout
at frenzied thoughts dashing about.
Perhaps I knew years had grown weeds
while I prayed for fertilized love seeds.
Perhaps I knew time long held this bleed
while I prayed true love would succeed.
Rose, from the dreams
rain glum ... makes streams
Leavened unleavened
risen and stayed
Lost when recovered
joyful dismay
Intrinsic extrinsic
the whole without parts
Tomorrow this moment
stopping to start
Benign and bedeviled
revealed yet unseen
A valid deception
blessed but obscene
The past and the future
hello and goodbye
Affirming rejection
— all truth to belie
(Dreamsleep: September, 2025)
Should I have married Jillian?
Could I have slept with Gemma?
I’ve got about a million
of this kind of dilemma.
They crop up in a thrice, of course,
but hang around for ever
(or do they crop up in a force?
Oh, why can’t I be clever?)
I envy those with certitude,
those free of hesitation.
I ‘d love to be the kind of dude
who knows no trepidation.
If doubts exist and qualms are rife,
you, luckiest of creatures,
have found experience in life
to be the best of teachers.
So, if he says he has no fear,
no ambiguity lingers:
he never tried to snuff – it’s clear –
a candle with his fingers.
Most bypass the shadow throat,
That world of swallowed measures,
Illusion of a distance —
The ceiling just as close as heaven.
Cogito ergo sum —
All else does cease to be,
My breath the last life whisper,
My memories the library.
In bowels of night’s leviathan,
The sun forgets she ever was,
Disciples sleep to spurn the moon,
Ruling by Medieval laws.
Discerning shadows lost —
Of space and logic gone —
Until returns the bursting dawn,
And christens hay fields, harvest gold.
some loves bout lost come go almost all sorts
motives remain true pure until find not
list least cain hope fewer no good reports
still life like love moves backing forth cold hot
back outing again own each such sigh wish
loss lasts long gone fast run use eye oui next
stuff split rough two there one bright here blue dish
but still be same unself self sans pretext
wait patient fourth floor first ready confess
one day then now was dreamed real life unfold
four most seven great death comes not success
some would telling kisses end life untold
try may believe yes if not near reverse
mind conceives lives another universe
There is paint painted on me
It is a kind of paint that whose pigment can dust
And cause a different kind of stain on you
If and when;
You glide on me,
You lean on me,
And colide with me.
I keep myself away because of that difference
So as to avoid such kind of confusion
"You treasure what's yours but again confuse it"
Eager to prove me wrong but will you believe me?
Give ears to listen to the different kind of story!
The story that makes my paint that way.
Will you distinguish and help me see
If there's that I don't see that I should
Yet you shouldn't always expect that
"There must be something you see that I do not"
The truth is You never know whether I looked further
Further than your eyes made there sight
"We are the same" but, "just made different"
Though even so
How much can you make up from those two statements
"We are the same" but, "just made different"
Or is it that I am the foolish one and,
Don't deserve to sit amongst you
Just because I have a different opinion.
Surely, we walked together...
But just like shadows,
Some cheap ghost climbs in nightly,
Pondering the same.
Were all our lives rich folktales?
Panic knots tighter,
As I must have lost your face—
The one that was mine.
Tonight the dark feels darker
As if the light is trying to hide
Even the sounds of the night
Have been silenced or died
There's no moon softly glowing
Or any stars illuminating the sky
There's only this vast emptiness
I'm able to grasp with my eye
The darkness consumes my being
An eerie feeling begins to arise
I observe my surroundings in fright
Only desolation fills up my eyes
Lost in this darkness that is life
Im looking and hoping for a light
That little flicker of distant hope
That will assure me I'll be all right
If quantum mechanics were understood,
and black hole singularities, space-time,
and gravity's well swallowed in a flood,
would bend to genius effort of this rhyme,
instead, might solve a wicked delusion:
that I am Center of the Universe.
If the Bell Curve, for IQ, ends confusion,
then my so-called “godhood” status, a curse,
permits the information paradox,
a test, to irradiate my manic strain,
turning Schrödinger's Cat into a fox,
collapsing my wave-function to Planck domain.
What now remains, is for me to theorize:
will this strange rhyme win me a Nobel Prize?
A poem is an artform –
well, not always
A poem is an idea –
hmm, not necessarily
A poem is all rhythm and rhyme
Ha! What about ‘free verse’
A poem is a thing of beauty
--though some are pretty ugly
A poem is a window to the writer’s soul
--though not to Shakespeare’s, whoever he was…
O, A poem is what’s just been written
Whoever thinks he can explain one
~ that person’s got to be kiddin’
Death wears blue
Hollowed eyes
Sleepy grin
Twisted mouth
Smiled at me
As her voice
In my dreams
Between his rattle
And her breath
Silently screams
You're killing me
Specific Types of Confusion Poems
Definition | What is Confusion in Poetry?
Poems Related to Confusion
anarchy, bewilderment, chaos, complexity, complication, consternation, difficulty, disarray, dislocation, disorientation, distraction, embarrassment, mistake, trouble, turbulence, turmoil, upheaval