All poems found containing the word eyes
Azrael Always "You see it in my eyes"

It's so still
No Silence in no sound
Apathetic masks are torn asunder
I can't hide the pressure I'm under
Stonefaced burdens
Too much to bear

I'd kill for joy
I'm fucking for love
We war for peace
Backward doublethink of the scatterbrained
Driving me insane

It all seems so hopeless
Fatalism chisled into my face
I scream for justice
You order me cake
Are we all so faithless?

materialism means so little
for the bankrupt soul so brittle
You see it in my eyes
I hear it when I cry

The emperor has no clothes
Nobodys home
Markets empty
We believe the big lies
To stay alive

This is old stuff.
Laetitia "Eyes that seemed enkindled by some ethereal"

You tell me that I am young
That life has merely licked me, not stung
That I do not understand, that I have not yet lived
Enough to grasp the substance

I have known disease
Slow tears, muted pleas
Pain that nothing could appease
I have known the smell of hospitals for summers
The beeping and slurping of machine in massive numbers

I have spoken to voiceless loved ones,
Loved ones with teethless mouths and twisted tongues
Distorted jaws and wheezing lungs.
We have spoken with little green charts
And broken hearts
From the inability to connect the mouth to the thoughts in the head
And I left without understanding,
What they had said
Because I eventually had to let it go
(I still don't know)

I have spent countless summer nights
In nature’s garb, floating silently in a river
So warm that my limbs, skimming the surface, didn't shiver
Under a clear sky, the stars like paradisiac lights
Without anyone ever finding out
About these wild and primal escapades

I've drank, I've smoked
I have burned my throat
With coarse lemon gin
Until I could no longer feel my skin.

I have been frightened
Yes I have felt fear, like a noose around my throat being tightened
Like a gruesome black crow, perched on my shoulder
I have often awoken affright at night,
Longing, praying, for the morning light
I have felt fear, wild, fierce and turbulent fear
More than anyone will everyone will ever know
By men, by life, by myself
Desolate under the sheets, like a forsaken toy
All by myself

I have seen Paris in the rain
Traveled the French countryside by train
I've woken up to New York window views
And seen New Orleans afternoons, filled with heat and blues.
I've swam the Mexican Baja waters, turquoise and clear
With snakes as sharp as spears

I have known humiliation
Causing my cheeks to turn carnation
A spoon, emptying my insides out
Like a gourd

I have loved
I have known the aching pain of a swelled heart
And the way it can tear you apart
I have gushed torrents upon my pillows and sleeves
Tears running down my chin like guilty thieves
From a lit-up house

I have known death, and grief
The meaning of "never"
Whimpering in the school bathroom
And cold, lonely nights

I have seen the works of Van Gogh, Mondrian, and Miro,
Modigliani, Cezanne, and Frida Kahlo
Of Monet, Gauguin, Matisse, Magritte, and Picasso
I have wandered through hallways of masterpieces
Holding tight to my grandmother's hand
And I have wept shamelessly for joy
Before Degas's La classe de danse

I have been diagnosed
I have undergone computer programs designed to shift my brain, to better it
To get me to be normal, to submit
I have had brain-altering medicine shoved down my throat,
Like stuffing a goose,
To make my brain run a little less loose
And I have submitted and gotten use to my brain being altered.

I have had kisses that were mere trifles
Frivolous, yet fierce and acute like shots from a rifle
Lips of mere flesh, not sweet godly nectar
And gazes that meant everything
That seemed to connect with an invisible yet indestructible string
Iris like distant galaxies and pupils twinkling like black jewels
Eyes that seemed enkindled by some ethereal fuel
Speaking of emotions far too secluded, cryptic and cluttered
To be worded and uttered

I know the way in which violence resides
Not in commotion, brusqueness, nor physical harm
But in silence
In the time that covers pain and secrets
In the slow impossibility of trust
In the way that some secrets become inconceivable to tell, time has so covered them in rust
In that dull, dismal ache
In all that is doomed to remain forever opaque.

I have read, for pleasure,
The works of Balzac, Fitzgerald, Steinbeck, and Voltaire
Of Bobin, Gaude, and Baudelaire
Of Flaubert, Hemingway
and good old Bradbury, Ray
Émile Zola,  Primo Levi
Moliere, Rousseau, and Bukowski
I have read, and loved, and understood

I have known insomnia
The way a beach knows the tides
Sleepless nights of convulsive, feverish panic, of clutching my sides,
Of silent hysteria and salty terror.
I know what happens at night, when sweet slumber seems so far away
The worries and woes seem to multiply and swell in hopeless disarray
My lips grow pale, my eye grow sunken
As a time ticks by, tomorrow darkens




I have witnessed horror
In the form of a blue body bag
Being rolled out with a squeaking drag
By two yellow-vested men
With apologetic eyes
That seemed to say "Oh god
We're so sorry you had to see that
Please, please
Go home
And try to forget
"

But you are right
I am still just a child
Naive, innocent, and pure
I have known nothing dark or obscure
I have not yet lived.

David Nelson "her eyes are brite"

She Likes to Watch

her eyes are brite
with a smile of love
she is perfect in every sense

the wonder is there
you can see it
in her every movement

she glides on the air
seemingly without a care
like a smooth jazz saxaphone

she warms every heart
she makes every day worthwhile
every night a holiday

the depth of her knowledge
goes beyond any book
it is in her observation

she cannot speak
nor can she hear
but she likes to watch

Gomer LePoet....

special is as special does
Laetitia "And I can see it in your eyes"

My dear, it rained last night
And I remember
The alleviated rise into
Lush sobs and lavish emotions
The way your dilatation relieves
Every worry and anxiety
But sometimes when we speak
A violent lie radiates
And last night you were naught
But an alienated virile sot
A view unholy I omit
I remember the tin roses on the tiles
Devastated, shattered.

Sometimes you hum
Your hands delicately miming secret memos
And I can see it in your eyes
Irises shining like teal devils
And the music carries you
White with adrenaline, pupils likes violists
Headwaiters lie, strumming tin violins
Their  alienated visions wilted with passion

I see the way she cleverly conceals
Lies as vows to you
A veil called "us" she puts on "me"
And I call for mutiny
But youth is vim, vim is now, and now is lies
Every hug from you is just a violet whim
In noisy rooms
My vision is misty
My aura dies little,

Oh if only you could realize your reign
You’re the master, the ringleader
But you’re lazy; you work without zeal, you’re idle and lazy
Eyes glazed, agile hands getting greedier

Have you ever seen
A dearer lion?
He roared, the lonesome rider
Alone, an alien.
Well sometimes you lie
And I dare to become
An oral denier
My radar detects one lie,
Then two...
You become red
Redder than a bloody lion's ear

Adieu, you say, with a gently undefined lilt
My tears speak more reality than your words

David Nelson "cold stone eyes"

Stone Cold

so far away
like a Venus moon
cold stone eyes
stone cold lies

you were here
you were there
I thought I knew you
but does anyone

you put me on
you put me off
you put me out
you remind me of a
song from the Rainbow

I was a day late
a dollar short
an octave and
2 flats low

I'm coming home
will you be there
will this time
you pretend to care

or will you hum a tune
off into space without a care
bless your heart I do declare
didn't the wicked witch melt

Gomer LePoet....

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
Amelia Jo Anne "pixie queen eyes never faltering,"

comfort
safety
everything I needed
& she was holding me.
forehead to forehead I'm crying
& she's so calm so slow so high so careful
not enclosing me
just there
as I'm buckling under the weight
of the pieces I've just
put together.
I'm sitting there
forever with her hand on the nape of my neck,
pixie queen eyes never faltering,
meeting my pleading
alarmed gaze. "It's okay baby girl"
she whispers it
over & over

she reaches up & presses her thumbs down on my airways shaking me & my head keeps smacking the concrete. Both a crack and a thump in my skull. But later it's me: beating her face into the floor breaking her nose her face all apart makes me feel sickeningly alive, mortifies & exhilarates at once. I'm terrified of her, yes, but more so of myself. "It's okay baby girl." Is it? Because night after night sleeping pill after sleeping pill I'm dreaming of ending it all.

Oh, of all the ways I could end.

"It's okay baby girl. I've got you"
BM Ward "All eyes on the man who had lost the fight."

Plug 1.

The atmosphere is cramped in here,
Scratching thick rock to the edge of
A violent precipice.
The walls are quaking heavy tones,
Rattling thin shears of metal,
Something echoing about who has the bigger cock.
The men parade around in a circle of dance.
Drawing dense clouds of smoke into their
Sun beat skin.
Hands raised high in the sky exposing
The mechanics,
Everyone exposing their grit.

The circle is empty.
Two cocks on opposing sides.
Talons shimmering shine against the backdrop
Of every shallow face.
The fight begins in deafening roars,
Declaring fan favorite in the match.
Clawed blood stains in dirt,
Blind eyed swips,
Coating afeather dance for the victor.

The crowd is silent.
No one speaks.
All eyes on the man who had lost the fight.
A big time cat,
Ran with the most important of people
In the controlling cities.
His veins pumping blood madly
To his scarred face.
The crowd moves and then forms again in his wake.
Motioning for the champion,
A hard working man who had been deported
Back to the bad lands just a year before,
Pulling his mechanics out from his belt loop.
My friend,
The winner,
Had none.
He stood,
Petrified,
Sweat beading from the oversized craters of his skin.
The man circled him,
Blamed him solely for his disposition.
Taunting him with his eyebrows,
Winking,
Though not well,
Until he stopped circling
And addressed him from behind.
With a mouth full of death sentences,
He placed his lips close to his left hear and said,
"You win, the right to die."
And plug 1 shouted loud,
Flinching everyone.

Plug 2.
My friends body laid to rest
In the dirt of it all.
Face down with an impact mark,
Claiming his new look.
Everyone remained calm.
They weren't stupid.
Knowing this all too well
Like bomb threats after 9/11.
The made man chanting true victory,
Picking up the left cash that had
My friend's kids meal etched into it.
Plug 2 shouted loud,
Another lunar landing.

Plug 3.
The puddles became oceans calm.
People began to smirk in disguise.
Two slugs picked up and pocketed.
Free trade in an open market.
Plug 3 shouted loud,
Smashing like watermelon under the hammer.

Plug 4.
Overkill to say the least.
My friend's face no longer recognizable.
His brilliant smile chipped away,
Nose splintered just feet away,
For another man's creation.
Another man's insecurities.
I will never see Francisco again.
He will never make me laugh nor smile
In his distinct inaudible way.
He is gone.
For good.
For the rest of "time".
Plug 4 shouted loud,
Beginning the end of his memorable existence.

Rest in peace
Francisco Venegas.
Murdered by Cartel for winning a cock fight.
Asia "All spark in their eyes?"

Are we going to wait until the floor is soaked
In hot tears and spilled blood?
Until the children have lost
All spark in their eyes?
Until families have been broken
And all hope is lost?
The children are playing in
War-zones.
Does this not frighten us?
Are we so invested in our lives
That we don't see the rest of the world
Crying out for help
Looking for a helping hand.
Have we gone completely mad?
Can we not see the darkness that is blanketing
Our World?

When will it finally be enough?

(at)
Bulkroses "I despise your cheeks, legs, eyes, everything."

Roll off my tongue like venom,
Awkward shapes whenever I see them,
Smiling yet heartless, cold and plain,
A boring shape, horribly lame.
Stems and petals not even pretty,
You're nothing special, cold hands so fitting,
Dull brown hair dressed up like me,
I despise your cheeks, legs, eyes, everything.



Said from a flower, broken and dead,
Sometimes I wish he had kept me instead.

Soul "I can see it in your eyes."

I can taste it on your lips,
I can see it in your eyes.
With every hit you take,
is another lie.
Even though I have all the time for you love,
I can't just stand in the middle
and watch you crumble.
Your voice has turned into a hissing mumble.
You are no longer strong, you are weak and brittle.
You are tumbling, tumbling down a hill.
Little by little, will tell of your defeat.
Your every relapse,
gives a stake to my heart,
Your every disappearance,
rips me apart, and leaves me wondering if you are alive.
When did this start? How did this start? And, will this end?
I begin to answer those questions, but the last, for I do not know.
But I will be there,
By your side.
Do not worry my dear,
for I am here, to guide you in recovery,
to be your catalyst in your salvation.
Temptations, Temptations.
The lust and desire for more..
I am wishing I would have found you before
you found this synthetic galore.
This synthetic galore,
that rips and gnaws at your core.
You swore to me,
you promised.
Please this time,
just be honest.

I wrote this a year ago, when my boyfriend was using hard drugs, and couldn't seem to get off of them. He lied to me constantly, would disappear and do terrible things. But with my support,  I helped him realize that he did not need drugs, and that he would be far happier without them. He has been clean ever since I stepped in, and we took each-others hands to fight this disease, together.
 
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