Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jan 2015
Jamie King
The ink smothers papers in unforgiving battles of writers.

Where fame outweighs the need for imagery, the structures aimed to be masterpieces, broken into master pieces.

The imagery lost with the message as words wonder about in disorganized sequences.

The meaning becomes opaque, as perspiration drowns the paper,panicing impatiently your words are flooded in pools of poems, so they fade and drift away, without any views or likes only dismay is displayed.
I've been taking my time not just to read but to study and understand poems in this wonderful site and I was amazed and very sad but we are all troopers and no one should be left behind
 Jan 2015
Jamie King
Fall away into sweeter dreams, where tears are but the morning dew escaping the sun.

Sleep in fields of abundant ecsasty, where cupids need no arrows as love
is melody.

Dream of memories mirroring     mesmorising scenes. Where plants      dance to the rhythm of the wind.
Elation being the theme.
Inspired by Wolf spirit.
 Jan 2015
Meenu Syriac
'Tis easier to look at a mirror
Than to dare introspect,
As the reflection subdues
The deceit buried in a tangled web of lies.
As the light dances on ripples in the water,
The shimmer it casts
To a void that is our souls.
There's darkness all around,
In our hearts and in our minds.
And in times like these
When our thirst is quenched with only more fire,
Our thoughts become inked in red,
Reminded of the weakness of our fortitudes,
And the shallowness of our words,
Let alone be our deeds.

The story of how a good man goes to war,
Lost to the morals of an unsound mind,
Resounds like a thunder in the midst of nowhere.
And as he raised his hand
And plunged a knife
Into the very heart of another his kind,
There he lost himself to the deafening screams of mankind.

And we find ourselves without voices
Drowning in a sea full of tears.
There is ONLY us,
THIS is all us...
OUR tragedies
OUR failures
OUR deeds.
We let ourselves fall,
**Even before the walls came tumbling down.
© Meenu Syriac
 Jan 2015
Jamie King
Silence breaths violence ominous sounds at night loud owls being quite

Knifes dine with guns mate with thugs and breed sons who spill guts

The old bath in young sins of love while caved by deeds of pride

At the edge of horrors the Sun rises, darkness is incinerated and peccancy is evaporated
Victims and villians where are the heroes? Where are the heroes?
 Jan 2015
Joshua Haines
I sit and I dream,
a parasitic dream,
where we aren't
who we were
and we aren't
how we seem.
Where I eat you
and you eat me
and somehow
we're still
happy.

In each pile of
body on body
I walk by
loneliness
and loss.
I love you's
and
I hate me's
saturate the air's
conscience.
Us,
the nation and all
are pinned against
each wall
being ******,
mercilessly.
We are
*******
heartbreakers.
Our ***** are
property of
others:
intellectual property.

In my dream,
where I dream,
everyone
I've ever loved,
is dreaming
and
trapped in a pit
of motorized
rubber ******
where the rubber
pumps and eats,
pumps and eats,
breaking ribs,
shattering spines,
ripping esophagus,
splitting spirit like
tissue paper.
Bodies ripped apart
by branded, artificial
"love":
society's configuration.
Brand recognition.
Product placement.
Motor salad.
 Jan 2015
Jamie King
.....I will smother you with love.    
hang you with pride riddle your life
           with with bullets of art.

   I will drown you in bliss. Burry
you in everlasting kisses and throw  
         you into the well of your
                          wishes.

              At the end I will reap
    you with hope and **** you with
                 joy as you rejoice.
When you can't stop thinking about them because you love them so much you would do anything to see them smile.
 Jan 2015
Jamie King
At the shore of the ocean I saw
a penguine flapping it's wings climbing the wind,
left the sky shattered
Into pieces I couldn't breath.

Feathers fell from the sky and
lifted what was left behind.
I closed my eyes and continued living blind.
Life is a ladder while others climbs others fall
 Jan 2015
Jamie King
Perpetually perplexed
Painted poignant
Pictures praising
Potent preachers

The brush is rough and
sore from years of labour
even time has aged but the
paint remains favoured

Piously positioned
Proudly portrayed
Poets patiently
Perfecting parody
I have been encourage by many poets to create my own structure and after writing the poem "creation" I felt the need to do it
God-King of the Heavens;
usurper of the throne of Saturn-
his Father,
the Titan-God of Time and Agriculture.
Saturn:
the personification of Time.
Also known as Chronos; Odin.

But, back to Jove-
that is to say, Jupiter:
archetype for Masculinity.

To some, the true Patriarch.

He's said to have once called himself YHWH,
but some know him as Yahweh, Jehovah, or Allah.
Others swear he goes by Zeus or Ammon,
and yet others, by Thor.

Or, perhaps
that name brings to mind
the largest planet in our Solar System.

The fifth from the Sun,
and largest by mass and volume:
Jupiter alone has 2.5 times the mass
of all the other planets combined.

It has a diameter of roughly 11 times that of Earth,
or about a 1/10th of that of the Sun.

I venture to say
that the Scientific and Mythological namesakes
both tend to have a similar temperament
and gravity
for they who are caught
within his sphere of influence.
A take on this challenge by Ellie Hughes:
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1019852/book-poem-challenge/

I used an old dictionary as my book.
The word Jupiter occured in the definition of "Ammoniac," with referance to 'being said to grow near the temple of Jupiter.'
 Jan 2015
SG Holter
Spoiled with having you
Within my reach,
I keep nearly catching
The dark figure
Of your ghost in the corner of
My eye.

Seeing myself in the mirror,
You are shower-naked
Before me,
Looking back from glass; inviting.

Don't be sweet. Not gentle.
My bones were built for battle.


Empty air where warmth
Was days ago; now
A vacuum the size and shape
Of love and lust responded to.

I lean my face on sofa roughness
Where black silk strands
Of hair would tickle it.
Your fingers are not here to
Search; find, utilize the Access
All Areas
pass of

The black ceramic ring
You wear.
Neither is your mouth to tell me

To shut the hell up and
Lean back into the
Winter night that blushes
And turns away smiling.

Hours like aeons.
Decade seconds.
Yearning is not boring,
Yet your absence is the opposite
Of fun.
All I have are memories, and
Tomorrow.

Thank the gods I have tomorrow.
Thank the gods, we have
Tomorrow.

I'll dream then too.
Then open my eyes and mouth,
And thank out loud.

*"Real."
 Jan 2015
SG Holter
Florø, Norway's
westernmost town, 2015.


All you could ever be,
Is *you
.
All you ever held was yours
Within the holding.

I ask the snow covered island
Peak towering beyond the body
Of ocean. What is your
Mountain name?


It answers in its
Mother's tongue; silence:
*I am God to Pebble.
I am Child to Ranges.

Brother to Sea stroking my
Sides. Even dancing with Sister
Storm, his every wet touch is
Caress.

I am I.  
Rigid within my given space.
Learn from me if you will.
I care as little as stone.
 Jan 2015
nivek
the invisible road is travelled
while standing on the pavement
one day they will merge
this oasis will keep you going
Next page