Crickets now chirping and
cars in the distance.
Feeling the earth questioning
this existence.
How others live is
not my worry.
My concern is my own
inner hung jury.
What is real and
what is not and
why are we in
this frying ***
What truly matters, though,
at the end of the day
is the energy coursing
when feeling this way:
when I think of my man
and our plans and our goals
and how closely we hold
the molding of this growth
and explore each experience
deliriously true.
At the end of the day,
all my thoughts turn to you.
May 16, 2021
May 16, 2021 at 1:30 AM UTC
Swirling minds
lead to circular thoughts,
releasing one transgression
but another gets caught.
Digging deep
uncertainty begins to creep,
it's not weak to weep,
sometimes the hills are steep
and the gaps are hard to leap,
but we keep pushing
until we reach the peak.
But the pinnacle does not
mean the journey has ended,
it's just one part
of many that has mended.
Once we conquer
our earthly errors,
we can move on to
existential terrors.
I have been on this path
alone so long,
but now I roam with someone
who helps me be strong.
With her I know I belong.
I have someone who brings
harmony to my song.
Not every day will turn out
the way we intend,
but we each have a friend
we can depend on to defend
each other from that which
would have us descend.
We take flight beyond these
earthly plights and will
reach new heights
and see new sights,
for we will smite
our ego and spite
to do what's right
and be a light shining bright,
even during the darkest of nights.
Posted for author: M. Buff
May 4, 2021
May 4, 2021 at 2:17 AM UTC
Spirit intrigued me but
leaves me deceived when
relief is the same thing I fear.
Coming together in
warming up weather,
I find I feel better
when the sun is so near.
But the real sky’s bliss
that I lust for and miss
is the moon and its’ kiss
when the light hits me clear.
This moon turns hawk,
swoops me up to space walk,
traces star light with chalk,
and my fears disappear.
Take me down, gentle wings,
on the ground we will see
our souls sing in glee,
reflecting like a mirror.
Love in and love out,
doves embrace on this cloud,
our feet pace to meet now,
the energy feels so dear.
Hearts wrap arms round each other,
finding nothing but lovers,
growing close under covers,
whispering into ears.
Discovering soft secrets,
pinky promise to keep it,
not a shadow of regret
in the light we endear.
Hold tight to our dreams,
stitch up broken seams,
let smiles and souls gleam
from the heartbeats we hear.
-kbww
May 4, 2021
May 4, 2021 at 1:41 AM UTC
Sitting here outside,
I see the moon, hear crickets chirp.
Getting lost in sighs and swoon
to snippets of spring earth.
Waiting for rebirth
with eastern sun and lively air.
Praying I feel worth, concern is done,
this time, I’m there.
Wishing you were here,
but feel your heartbeat
with my eyes.
Fishing further tiers
reveal stars seated in the skies.
There I meet you, dear,
above the clouds amongst the light.
Where sweet dreams come true,
no fear, love bounds and
lust takes flight.
kbww
Mar 29, 2021
Mar 29, 2021 at 12:11 AM UTC
I’m sorry I’m so distant.
I’m sorry for these pains.
I’m sorry for these instances.
I’m sorry life’s insane.
I’m sorry on behalf
of this wayward universe.
I’m sorry that my path
sometimes seems to be reversed.
I’m sorry that you suffer
as a result of my own struggle.
I’m sorry there’s no lover
in your arms to hold and cuddle.
I’m sorry I’m not healing
as quickly as I desire.
I’m sorry my mind’s reeling,
but my heart is full of fire.
I’m sorry that my kiss
missed your lips of rosy pearls.
I’m sorry,
but I promise,
I’m never sorry I’m your girl.
kbww
Mar 24, 2021
Mar 24, 2021 at 12:54 AM UTC
My eyes mimic the skies in dripping sighs and watered truths to battle lies of a messed up system we insist is care, but never finding any there. Shrapnel are these words to purge a putrid sickness of tired limbs and synonyms for various painful phrases. Clouds cover a moon I may have too soon lost to vision, but a mission to take it from my heart won’t part without permission. Warmth of fanned out heat playing sidekick to my seat and defeat of feeling joyous, but this soul is not porous and I hold my pride. Tides change and energetic surgeries heal from the real places they’ve touched, and though much can be praised of these hazy transformations, exhaustion is but a drop away. Even so, I’ll be okay.
kbww
Mar 21, 2021
Mar 21, 2021 at 1:19 PM UTC
I don’t know what to do with myself,
I just keep feeling low.
I want to release the
pain from these bones
and feel a calming glow.
I tend to be fine some of the day
but it’s like somehow time takes that away
and by the end of the night I end up grey and,
I just don’t like feeling this way.
There’s nothing anyone one can do,
not my family not my friends, not even you.
This is the pain I must go through
if I want to make it to my ultimate view.
An ultimate me in all alternate planes,
surviving ultimately with no real pains.
Just the temporary stresses
that everyone feels
and temporary messes
that serve no reveal.
Just a normal life in less nervous skin.
I’ll go through the strife to find what’s within.
It’s worth every tear at the end of the day.
I just,
wish I didn’t feel this way.
kbww
Mar 21, 2021
Mar 21, 2021 at 12:58 PM UTC
There has to be some sort of
symmetry my soul is missing.
It seems I see the gore that
endlessly grows on within me.
I also see the lights of
actuality and love.
But calls from me for sight
in reality get lost above.
I know someone is listening
beyond the words I pray:
if so, the sun will glisten
neon rays on me someday.
Until this time, I travel the sky,
the moon to light my way.
And in this rhyme, I unravel why
I wish soon to sight the day.
kbww
Mar 21, 2021
Mar 21, 2021 at 2:11 AM UTC
Sway swiftly, silent heart.
Your brain connection is
closed.
Stare at your toes or Mars
or the stars, just,
don’t look in the mirror.
You won’t like what you
see there.
It’s two way and you are still
only looking at yourself.
A roundabout way to
end the day, circumference
in the way your soul stays:
Closed, and *****
Open firmly.
Deflect the dread of
thoughts from your head that
do not lead to salvation.
Sit alone, no phones or
mindless calamity.
Just you and the alchemy
of your swift heart.
Cut the art of disconnecting;
soul begs to stir the light.
Become the start of life
transcending.
Be your beginning,
never your ending.
-Ww
Nov 12, 2020
Nov 12, 2020 at 8:41 PM UTC
One poet asks another, “Is it quite possible that some of us are just stuck in a game of loving too much?”
The second poet answers, “My dear, we wouldn’t have poetry if we were in the game of loving too little.”
-Kbww
Nov 12, 2020
Nov 12, 2020 at 12:20 AM UTC