Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
sparkles-asparagus
Enlightenment is explosion                                                                                                                   Its means your mind is virtually certain                                                                                                Either been butchered                                                                                                                         Or wobbling or wondering                                                                                                                 Like a curtain thrown from system strongholds                                                                                Threat of retaliation,                                                                                                                           with its more we feel the beauty Trash bins for leftover, Buddha said the same thing                                                                         A Zen master would say sidewalks                                                                                                     If you work too hard the latent anarchists or God will attain anything                                                                     Not to make everyone the same prostitution                                                                             Capital into an asphalt jungle, the proportions of our own body                                                   Ritual *** on the other hand it may be too idealistic Blood **** ended no need to talk about         Unorganized and we can see the beauty                                                                                        Her face covered with blood you try to do it all at once                                                                      Since most of the victims realized that you are one                                                                            One whole, many thousands of innocents                                                                                  Brainwashed whites with reality                                                                                                  Anarchy and savagery grew emptiness                                                                                         Subsequently died in a wise and effective way If an artist becomes,                                                                                                                            Short intense raids on the system river                                                                                           Sources and supply and human life                                                                                                  Put some strength into their veins and die                                                                                       With fingers encircling and incantations of Satan worship                                                             Her pretty face was smudged little by little                                                                                   She moaned of eternal life The meaning lies in a flash about fifty yards in almost a direct hit                                                      From a secluded densely wooded suffer in your difficulties                                                         Exploded inside your body                                                                                                                  The projectiles began calmness                                                                                                     Something in itself is enlightenment weapons especially for guerilla distress                                       Your life in your effort thundering in the midst                                                                             We saw beautiful blossoms of some meaning in their ****** toll                                                   Know the answer, but while it lasted
0
Apr 28, 2011
Apr 28, 2011 at 9:19 AM UTC
Initial assault on Nirvana
Enlightenment is explosion                                                                                                                   Its means your mind is virtually certain                                                                                                Either been butchered                                                                                                                         Or wobbling or wondering                                                                                                                 Like a curtain thrown from system strongholds                                                                                Threat of retaliation,                                                                                                                           with its more we feel the beauty Trash bins for leftover, Buddha said the same thing                                                                         A Zen master would say sidewalks                                                                                                     If you work too hard the latent anarchists or God will attain anything                                                                     Not to make everyone the same prostitution                                                                             Capital into an asphalt jungle, the proportions of our own body                                                   Ritual *** on the other hand it may be too idealistic Blood **** ended no need to talk about         Unorganized and we can see the beauty                                                                                        Her face covered with blood you try to do it all at once                                                                      Since most of the victims realized that you are one                                                                            One whole, many thousands of innocents                                                                                  Brainwashed whites with reality                                                                                                  Anarchy and savagery grew emptiness                                                                                         Subsequently died in a wise and effective way If an artist becomes,                                                                                                                            Short intense raids on the system river                                                                                           Sources and supply and human life                                                                                                  Put some strength into their veins and die                                                                                       With fingers encircling and incantations of Satan worship                                                             Her pretty face was smudged little by little                                                                                   She moaned of eternal life The meaning lies in a flash about fifty yards in almost a direct hit                                                      From a secluded densely wooded suffer in your difficulties                                                         Exploded inside your body                                                                                                                  The projectiles began calmness                                                                                                     Something in itself is enlightenment weapons especially for guerilla distress                                       Your life in your effort thundering in the midst                                                                             We saw beautiful blossoms of some meaning in their ****** toll                                                   Know the answer, but while it lasted
Continue reading...
5
The empty beer cans that you used to defy gravity They empty shampoo canisters that washed away your wrath and loss The empty notebooks not filled with the poetry you weren’t inspired enough to write The pages of books you couldn’t finish but pretend you did The lost shoes and who you where with you feet deep in grass and not cardboard The bed you don’t sleep in because you have found a warmth the don’t sterilize The roommate who things didn’t fill up your cupboards now designated for other objects The roads you don’t drive because you have nowhere to go Life is in the muffled noises you hear between rooms The nights you didn’t take pictures The ones you don’t remember even though they shaped your exact being The times you felt boring Or when you didn’t realize how many substances you were on Or the papers you could have made genius   The empty boxes of hairdye that washed out in a week and didn’t cure your suburban binality The dumb tattoos you want to get but now would be a shameful laser treatment Your daydreams that never came true Your daydreams that always came true and somehow didn’t lead up to there power of inception Life is in other peoples good nights Other people dark pasts of drug abuse and  civil unrest in the **** of an earthquake Life is in the drug you where afraid to do In the lies that you tell to become a different person Its in the people you treated like **** for your own guilty needs Its in the people whose gritty *** you walked in on Life is in your lack of passions or skills or drive or organization Its in the stupid ironic thift store choices you don’t throw away but never wear for 99 cents Its in all the time you didn’t sing in a crowd And you let someone convince you of facts you knew where wrong It in every liar, and ****** human being you defined inorder to not believe they were **** Its in every used ****** of the one night stands that made miserable times but good stories Its in *** length hair In tongue scars In the people who know too much about you and you have know idea Life is in your love of things you hate In empty coffee cups that once saved you in a moment of weakness In all the tears you shed drunk Its in all you temporary obsessions and forgotten hobbies The greeting cards you didn’t read and the thank you you never gave Life is in the person you thought you would be right now The empty packs of stubbed cigarettes The forgotten names and anonymous snuggles The empty guns and unfolded knives The unmailed letters that help you reach redemption by telling them you would never forget Life is in the times you didn’t run to the wild The people who weren’t who you thought The soul mates that became frat brothers Or those people who drifted because you didn’t no what to say anymore Life is in our unbrushed teeth Or the void you cant find Or the puzzle piece hid under the radiator Life is in the wine bottles we stack Life is in what we treat as forgotten streaming unconscious waste Because we always looked ahead, and to empty more that will never fill
0
Apr 27, 2011
Apr 27, 2011 at 10:10 PM UTC
life is in the empty
The empty beer cans that you used to defy gravity They empty shampoo canisters that washed away your wrath and loss The empty notebooks not filled with the poetry you weren’t inspired enough to write The pages of books you couldn’t finish but pretend you did The lost shoes and who you where with you feet deep in grass and not cardboard The bed you don’t sleep in because you have found a warmth the don’t sterilize The roommate who things didn’t fill up your cupboards now designated for other objects The roads you don’t drive because you have nowhere to go Life is in the muffled noises you hear between rooms The nights you didn’t take pictures The ones you don’t remember even though they shaped your exact being The times you felt boring Or when you didn’t realize how many substances you were on Or the papers you could have made genius   The empty boxes of hairdye that washed out in a week and didn’t cure your suburban binality The dumb tattoos you want to get but now would be a shameful laser treatment Your daydreams that never came true Your daydreams that always came true and somehow didn’t lead up to there power of inception Life is in other peoples good nights Other people dark pasts of drug abuse and  civil unrest in the **** of an earthquake Life is in the drug you where afraid to do In the lies that you tell to become a different person Its in the people you treated like **** for your own guilty needs Its in the people whose gritty *** you walked in on Life is in your lack of passions or skills or drive or organization Its in the stupid ironic thift store choices you don’t throw away but never wear for 99 cents Its in all the time you didn’t sing in a crowd And you let someone convince you of facts you knew where wrong It in every liar, and ****** human being you defined inorder to not believe they were **** Its in every used ****** of the one night stands that made miserable times but good stories Its in *** length hair In tongue scars In the people who know too much about you and you have know idea Life is in your love of things you hate In empty coffee cups that once saved you in a moment of weakness In all the tears you shed drunk Its in all you temporary obsessions and forgotten hobbies The greeting cards you didn’t read and the thank you you never gave Life is in the person you thought you would be right now The empty packs of stubbed cigarettes The forgotten names and anonymous snuggles The empty guns and unfolded knives The unmailed letters that help you reach redemption by telling them you would never forget Life is in the times you didn’t run to the wild The people who weren’t who you thought The soul mates that became frat brothers Or those people who drifted because you didn’t no what to say anymore Life is in our unbrushed teeth Or the void you cant find Or the puzzle piece hid under the radiator Life is in the wine bottles we stack Life is in what we treat as forgotten streaming unconscious waste Because we always looked ahead, and to empty more that will never fill
Continue reading...
53
power lives in the sticks of the youthful retrogrades peddling away at toy cars and glass bombs So much potential weakened by the seduction of mediocrity called to the middle by pigs in suits of glamor dancing to hollow songs in a crater of mistaken humanoids all prying for the final meat Popsicle and it belongs to him with all his shady remarks and sincere disregard for the gravitational potential energy of your existence He WILL break you morph your limbs into callous claws to weak to open the locks which chain you to the village whipping pole He along with his mutiness will laugh as he warps your brain into a dough shaped plato carving barely resembling an ***** His thievery is not a simple repercussion of his damaged limping stare it is clear he does not want to be fixed as suffering is his favorite playmate, he waits in the faces of all those that swing alone injecting shots of mind numbing cubicle anti-rage into his neck veins this is his piece as you dry heave the blood of your loyalty onto parchment for his inspection you must learn to swim paddle that canoe out of the iridescent concrete showering of his affection for this is not your jigsaw
0
Jan 6, 2011
Jan 6, 2011 at 10:51 AM UTC
A Sand Box of one
Plastic liquidation With god as my witness The only cure with A grave land as your living space This forgotten life style Left you as a ****** Only to your sick Aids ridden fantasy Ballooned music maiden May your curls grow to collapse A broken hilarity In an overused vessel
0
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 11:43 AM UTC
Lurkers of the Appalachian trail
My absolute destiny is to skull **** the **** out of life To blast open the empty cleavage To shatter all the deceptive phonographs Those that you now consider “convenient modes of transportation” Every dawn I will howl into your vibrating monotones Your Dutch rambling will be reduced to ashes Alone in a ***** hostel You will be shocked by the sight of a desecrated ****** The fish scales still burning Left in their natural preservatives The lowest of all the adorned creatures Is he who succumbs to mediocrity An ordinary existence is worse then a wasted *** receptacle If they cant see the truce in a setting sunlight It is a sin to deteriorate comfortably Making circles with the tracks of your laymen’s truck of waking up happy with your plastic name tags carved to resemble an ignorant life scrap This **** disgusts me It is the skull ******* that define a generation Grab your sword a and plunge deep into the night A laudable combination of weapons of mass destruction and drunkards This is one less moment you spend being ordinary
0
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 11:40 AM UTC
The tube to mediocrity
Partied by a daylight not worth receiving The lighted archways of judgment Beam down on your skeletal appearance Urging a break away from some monumental collapse A ragged dolls face Stitched on the body of a human waste receptacle Your bruises and burn scares The missteps of your creation Out of the depths of blackened fornication Moonlight tones of a memory An insemination that never happened Carnal desires blunted at hello Stitched at the seams I know those are just beads in your eyes Blankness recedes from the shore lines Unveiling to yourself the residue of our indiscretions together Briefly awarded the rank of general Now collapsed into what we would not refer to as a person of distinction Not a person of substance or quality How would this concoction respond? This ball of human anti-matter This forgiven body of curses and regret shoveled Slowly into some one else’s normal circumstance Faced with complacency of this evil renunciation To live another’s life Pure banality Pure monotony Maybe I was bread for this
0
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 11:34 AM UTC
The Hurried mass of one
Bluffing as the Victim of the malicious hog All the while Suppressing the innate Desire to be taken To be Defiled and found as worthless as concrete coating your mouth A Fraud they say, but no merely a deviant Painted to be weak in the great shrine The rational world order living without the passion The disillusioned with their unnamed desires Living Fallacies walking while bleeding of burnt rubber Succumbing to the Needs of the flesh is the root to heaven Not all can be chosen to denounce their civil way You need an inner burner a leach A Knowledge that you are great and unusual An ability to convince the wisdom A Spirituality in the sick desires fraught with holes Fear is a natural and ****** emotion Submit or live without truth
0
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 9:37 AM UTC
The bible of the seventh Jesuit nation
Isolationist theories of my brutal development A mask In the world of passengers Regretting every slight disruption Making icy chatters of teeth As we wonder How will these small altercations Affect the grand course of my surreptitious collapse? Just a violent object on an axis A washer head thrown into a tumultuous ocean of visions A flickering correspondent Lying on an abolition The worst things happening to the best people It spins and breaths and ***** This molested scared demon Anally penetrating all that I believe is genuine Reels of my childhood development Played on repeat to search for ammunition The tunneling rib cages of my insanity The forest nymph of all that is good The one who created me Locked away in a windowless world Analyzed as if lockness was one of them I always thought it would be me Falling to where I could not be found How am I still standing?
0
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 9:35 AM UTC
Survivalists are Loners
I have switched to mechanics The pen and the paper are morning my bemuse The organic matter is dying just Artificial forced relationships With penetrative remarks The tiny prism in the back of my mind Where I can not stake out the feelings It is forcing me to convulse on this awful thing Those white walls are suppose to fool you Repudiating that they are of silence Do not placate me young sir I know that’s were things come to a halt You enlist them into your nihilistic theories They can not see cyclical processes The influxes of hysteria that inevitably ward out the insurgency No you claim them among the broken Make them scared of large boxes with no windows But does it even matter The black matter had cast them to the seductress anyhow The very seductress, whose embodiment of good and evil fools even me Can she not see the rampant fires? The cages that are cracking As the mice turn on each other Or is it calculated Politically over dramatized to fool even the most sincere You remind me of my mother and the United States government The will call my a conspirator But ill know you never landed on the moon And even if you did You didn’t caress its very surface You didn’t risk your life to just inhale the fumes of a memorial It was nothing more then capitalist foot hold in outer space to you No matter how much you sing about it And what for me? I could fix you in one splash of a recall But that wouldn’t change the fact that the gears are all out of whack And the turnstiles can’t see color anymore I am growing blinder everyday But I can never find my oracle under all this rubbish He has possessed me that Flying gingerbread monkey Before this I liked solidarity Juggling my own fortunes My own soggy breath fill up the window signs Now I am a menacing Ravished house beast Revering for him to make me categories and pie charts This isn’t the competition that he enlisted for But maybe will make it just five weeks and completely meaningless topics we will become the foremost informant Populously used factoids over martinis God know me and the monkey are socially ******** As this thing of forsaken design has morphed into a manifestation of everything wrong with my punitive inception We must talk about the alcohol. Dwindling alone a poor and empty bottle no worries it will have friends Should I be concerned about my physical stability? Not really I rather like bisecting my liver and pouring to the brim No its that I don’t enjoy it ,,,,,alcoholics are suppose to be a jolly breed Why else would AA be so giggly? I have tried to reform and it won’t be in vain I won’t give up the dream and succumb to a lobotomy Just cause I Cant hold my liqueur This is worse then the torah A bigger degradation then the bible If only I had cried for the proletariat Then I would be famous But even though the trances are fun And the posterior eradicating OH dark and shifty friend I have missed You! And I do mourn in some postulated manner for the orphans But they would have made it out of their capsules if you just gave them time
0
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 9:32 AM UTC
Seldom left to pasteurize
I have switched to mechanics The pen and the paper are morning my bemuse The organic matter is dying just Artificial forced relationships With penetrative remarks The tiny prism in the back of my mind Where I can not stake out the feelings It is forcing me to convulse on this awful thing Those white walls are suppose to fool you Repudiating that they are of silence Do not placate me young sir I know that’s were things come to a halt You enlist them into your nihilistic theories They can not see cyclical processes The influxes of hysteria that inevitably ward out the insurgency No you claim them among the broken Make them scared of large boxes with no windows But does it even matter The black matter had cast them to the seductress anyhow The very seductress, whose embodiment of good and evil fools even me Can she not see the rampant fires? The cages that are cracking As the mice turn on each other Or is it calculated Politically over dramatized to fool even the most sincere You remind me of my mother and the United States government The will call my a conspirator But ill know you never landed on the moon And even if you did You didn’t caress its very surface You didn’t risk your life to just inhale the fumes of a memorial It was nothing more then capitalist foot hold in outer space to you No matter how much you sing about it And what for me? I could fix you in one splash of a recall But that wouldn’t change the fact that the gears are all out of whack And the turnstiles can’t see color anymore I am growing blinder everyday But I can never find my oracle under all this rubbish He has possessed me that Flying gingerbread monkey Before this I liked solidarity Juggling my own fortunes My own soggy breath fill up the window signs Now I am a menacing Ravished house beast Revering for him to make me categories and pie charts This isn’t the competition that he enlisted for But maybe will make it just five weeks and completely meaningless topics we will become the foremost informant Populously used factoids over martinis God know me and the monkey are socially ******** As this thing of forsaken design has morphed into a manifestation of everything wrong with my punitive inception We must talk about the alcohol. Dwindling alone a poor and empty bottle no worries it will have friends Should I be concerned about my physical stability? Not really I rather like bisecting my liver and pouring to the brim No its that I don’t enjoy it ,,,,,alcoholics are suppose to be a jolly breed Why else would AA be so giggly? I have tried to reform and it won’t be in vain I won’t give up the dream and succumb to a lobotomy Just cause I Cant hold my liqueur This is worse then the torah A bigger degradation then the bible If only I had cried for the proletariat Then I would be famous But even though the trances are fun And the posterior eradicating OH dark and shifty friend I have missed You! And I do mourn in some postulated manner for the orphans But they would have made it out of their capsules if you just gave them time
Continue reading...
80
Your over sized eyes offer no kind of fear Mostly just a jovial inquiry Into the most trivial causes of our existence You eager little child The tuffs of you hair sprout sideways A random treble of camouflage comfort As if to explore Not obstructed by some code of calamity Not a paw or a hand The tiny tongs of your fingers spread grasping some house wives fruit salad Your nails colored like a stained cigarette Once pried away from the comforts of your cage You grasp tightly to the mixed fabrication of my dress Ever so snugly you claw at my hips With your coarse outer being longing for more If I loosened my grip you would tighten yours Not out of fear But of pure connection Even in this writhing heat who could not welcome this kind of embrace Once placed in a tree Your head swivels as if on a pike The look on your face indicates you are on the best acid trip of your life Perfectly content just to be staring at my face Examining the purple shadows And the hidden valleys of my eyebrows Sunbeams radiate from your egg shaped contemplation You are dewily mellow old friend When you look at me I want to burst into ironic symphonies of bliss The love of a sloth
0
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 9:29 AM UTC
Stoners of the Rain forest