He looked out the window at the frost laden ground
and saw the spring's colorful delight,
blooming and brazen,
frozen in forever light.
Dead to the stalk, petals as glass
Sharp winds, you ghastly fools
Think that you could snap at spring like that?
Apr 30, 2012
Apr 30, 2012 at 2:42 AM UTC
Poetry your soul
Feeble not in its message
Some may scoff, its transparency uplifting for you,
Disturbing for others
Allow them to voice their concern, their
Approach is not of malice
But approach your voice
With signature of your song
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
Wash the wind in your hair
The pages of your life shall not be of misery alone, not of endless mayhem and malignant madness
Do not feed your darkness, the essence of that will trip you and desert you. Sweet is the embrace of your bitterness, for now
Wash the wind as it passes by you, let in cleanse the darkness away, let it glide through your missteps, your unpleasant platitudes of pity
Good times come even on the darkest of times if you seek that which will ease your suffering
The home of
Delving in despair, has no bottom, no way out
Cry if you must, let your soul sing out.
Do not cry out hoping to be saved if you refuse to be consoled, to strive to work it out and overcome. It will not be easy, it is complicated and knotted just as tightly as your hatreds
Lighten your lives, cut the ties, free yourselves. Wash that wind.
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 10:42 PM UTC
The loneliness permeate down into the toes, walking along the sidewalk
The streets seem empty, vacant faces, hurried bodies avoiding the solace of a simple hello, their trifling stares stabbing at their incompleteness
Write pain only because the voice cannot verbalize it. We don't understand it. We don't want to
Trifling affairs taking us up, consuming us, completing us, then draining us
Walking life avoiding others, their daring greetings, their trifling
They, too, walk along the sidewalks and the gutters, getting tripped up on their own despairs Listen not to Dante's doom, that abandonment is futile
Futile fallacies, our trifling forays, our misfortunes
Street along, you masses, you unforgettable, delving into yourselves, forgetting
You cannot understand it, those trifling friendships
How do they compare to the miseries you trudge through, swamped in that which hold you back, slows you down, drowns you, chokes you
Your only connect is the carelessness of your incompleteness, contagious of complaints
That cracked sidewalk, tripping you up in its unevenness
Your shoes have rubbed out their souls, toes slamming their unending pressures
You feel defeated and oppressed. Yet you walk on
Why do you not just stop and rest? The lonely road does not end, it continues on and on unceasingly, its seasons one big blur
Year in and year out your days numbered as nothing but trifling affairs, your greetings to fellow walkers rare as encouragement from within. You have become swollen in refusing refuge from those that share that uncaring sidewalk
You balk at accepting a hand to take that lonely walk with you, it is just another pair of loneliness who seeks companionship, who only seeks to cease their own trifling affairs
Lend not your own complaints, but console and be consoled in the greeting of a walk together
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 10:37 PM UTC
Trance me up, push me 'round and bring it down
Beat me a new song, pound it out, my soul to be bound
I am so wicked, so lost in your rhythms I can hardly breath
Chain me, cultivate me, give me your **** release
I am so hot for you, for your song of thumping sound
I can hardly contain my ears, my body is on fire
Push it, pound it, of your hotness I won’t tire
Your muse, your hotness I cannot pass
I wanna spank your sound
Push me to my new limits, pleasure me with your ingenuity.
Intellect my brain, pulverize my pain as I watch the world rot away
You ooze mastery, the rot of your rapaciousness, so succulent, so free.
Consume my head, feed my ears, ****** into my chest
Feed me your lust, your craziness, I am such a freakin' mess
Dance it off, sing it away, swing it 'round, I float on the ground
Your magic fingers, the smoothness of your beat, masters me
I need you, your fantasy is mine, I am yours
For now you control me
You course through my being, my chest thumps to your flashing sound.
Command me, consume me, do not let me go. Spin it, make me found
Your ethereal edge smoothes me out, makes me right.
I bed your music, my feet clap your fame, this night
But tomorrow when I wake, I will forget who you are.
Jan 30, 2012
Jan 30, 2012 at 6:27 AM UTC
**** and **** cute
My hot *** and catchy face
Until I open my mouth,
and ugliness pours out
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 9:17 AM UTC
Jump start my heart, blind my ego, I have searched high and low
Into the depths of gratitude, to the highs of indifference
I am not the winner, nor the foe
Slap me, punch me, call me out
I hate it when I refuse to be wrong, and hate you more when I am not
Laugh at me, **** up to me, I cannot lie my face away
My ego is starved for your laughter, for your filthy rot
Sail the winds away, get out of my sight, I take my plight
Jack me up, turn me down, I am nothing but an ugly clown
I hide behind the wicked scene, languishing in the obscene
Punch me, slam me, bring me down
I am not the winner, curse this wicked frown
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 9:17 AM UTC
Enslaved
Then freedom
From freedom,
Time burns into
Forgetfulness
Turned into
Apathy
Turned into
Slaver
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 9:16 AM UTC
The queen, the sparkling of her crown sheds light onto her station, she rises to the occasion, her glory your delight, her throne your admiration, you place her in high regard.
The queen, the heaviness of her crown, sheds tears onto her duty, she rises for your glory, for your delight, not for hers, for the throne’s chains hold her in place.
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 9:15 AM UTC
Sing the song of sorrow, you peasants of popularity
Everybody hanging on your words
Dripping with yeses and pleads for your attention
They do not know the contents of your heart,
Your wish
Seeking those who say no and stand up to you
You begrudge those who dare not fight your words, those who sulk when you snap
Snap their feebleness, those lousy **** ups
Where are the real people, the true
Why must you be followed by groupies who refuse your invitation to fight, to bicker
To disagree
Do they not know your sorrows, your delights of ****** and throw
Your voice has become as a funeral drudge as you slowly die of boredom,
your soul withers as you wallow in pity,
your popularity as a magnet of fiends of friendship
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 9:15 AM UTC