Category Archives: #SocialPoetry

#SocialPoetry

Poem Tweets The Poem Was Distilled From

The Truth Hurts Sometimes

By

Michael Camarata

Floods follow drought:
Tears,
Inconveniences,
Ideologies.

Dreams and anguish
Freeze my blood,
Allowing me to forget
The pain inside me.

There are so many people,
And it would have played so much better,
To lose myself. . .

We are survivors
In the ecstasies which might have been:
Sexual advances,
Pure elation,
Months of anguish.
All of these are the sacred spies
Of love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*****

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#SocialPoetry

Poem Tweets The Poem Was Distilled From

Fragments in Time and Space

By

Michael Camarata

Psychic spies from China
Are trying to steal our mind’s elation.
Holy crapnuggets, guys!
All these years hoping for a glimpse.
I am beside myself.

At the Electric Daisy Carnival,
Building our own
Weapons of mass elation.
Re-instated on the Team at last!
Good.
I wanted to save them the sadness of thinking I was leaving.

I miss my dog Snokes.
I was like twelve
And it was the night before the big field trip…

Elation’s a huge presence in my life
Since becoming a famous figure,
A victim.
Noticed I got followed the other day.
So it goes.

Elation success!
Screams of happiness from the mailroom.
Every now and then
I bet they remember why they went to law school.

I weep at my desk
In relief.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*****

*****

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#SocialPoetry

Poem Tweets The Poem Was Distilled From

Conversations in our Heads

By

Michael Camarata

Sometimes it feels
Like the storms will never end:
From devastation to elation,
Welcome to the roller coaster.

Now capture this image
In the framework of your mind:
Find a spot for us to spark up a conversation,
To share our situations and temptations. . .
Beneath a tree, perhaps.

This too shall pass.

In the end you would be left with nothing,
And everything.

 

 

 

*****

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Poem Tweets The Poem Was Distilled From

Just Another Brawl

By

Michael Camarata

I’m signing autographs in Spanish.
Yo, it’s wild out here!

What was that boy thinking?
Can’t believe he punched
That random stranger in the face.

Is the Swede gay?

We’ve all suffered.
Life is pain, anxiety and wickedness.
I only wish you were there to defend me.

I couldn’t speak,
Couldn’t form the words –
Only fists.

Thank you for your unconditional love.
It’s painful to imagine yourself
Without someone you care about.

I’ll lose myself in anguish for tonight –
The freedom of hard earned wisdom.
Then there will be some more
Serious anguish in the morning.

I breathe you in,
Though battered by anguish
And thick-headedness,
And sigh.
You are gone in the sky,
But I might just see you yet.

 

 

 

*****

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Poem Tweets The Poem Was Distilled From

For The Love Of The Game

By

Michael Camarata

I hate the summer.
Shorts are anguish in physical form.
Converted to energy,
This could possibly create a volcanic eruption!

My breathing being collapses.

We love Baseball.
We pour our hearts out.
Game last night.
Outstanding performance!
Really want me some Cinnabon.

Strengthen me in accordance with your word!
I start to miss the feeling of anguish.
It is the only thing that keeps me going,
And nothing fills me so equally with joy and anguish
As a good book.

Smooth words cloud my vision.
Yoga is a way to freedom.

You tell me I should relish the anguish.
I just can’t do it.
Too late in the eve.
Smoke and mirrors,
Empty promises,
Cozening intent.
Anguish isn’t a policy
And neither side has a monopoly on it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*****

*****

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#SocialPoetry

Poem Tweets The Poem Was Distilled From

At the Breakfast Table

By

Michael Camarata

Feeling weak and rather penetrable –
We only grow from anguish, you know.

β€œI will be glad and rejoice in your love,
For you saw my affliction and knew
The anguish of my soul,” you said,
Sitting down at the table.

Such an impending feeling . . .
β€œCan you make me one of those?”
Shame & disgust choke my belly.
β€œWhat color are you wearing today?”

I choose to hold strong –
I hate feeling vulnerable.

Instead, I snap my fingers
To the sound of the song
On the radio . . .

Sounds good, yea!

 

 

 

Quote Not Found – Steven Kozak (@steven_kozak)

 

 

 

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