She said he was to down to earth,
that she could never see the stars
                        beneath his staring.

"Am I not grounded enough?
        do you wish to gaze deeper
              than even I can look into..

Would you want to reach the heavens,
to see how many glimmers float deep
       within every blinking of my sight.

"She pondered his question,

If you can make me see the universe
entwined within every look
                                        you give me.
                              I'll be yours forever.

So days past upon his gaze, not at her!
            but the fulfilment of her wishes.
And with that, he brought out his gesture
                                 of making her see stars.


"Strap this on yourself!

But is this not just a rocket?
        will I not leave your side.


Never would I let us part,
       you will only be above my gaze.
my eyes steering you, no longer grounded.

With a twinkle in his eye he gazed at her,
   "I see the stars gleaming in your eyes.
    "You are no longer grounded to.....

And without a word the rocket shot off.
        hearing her faint words.. I was wro…

With that a shower of sparks erupted,
         in the  heavens and for a second she saw stars..
But unfortunately ungrateful of what she had.

He never saw her again after that.
         But he was a man of his word.
Now grounded to terra-firma he gazes
                  towards the stars and smiles.
Some are not grounded enough to realise what they have, and this never ends well in the long run. Always count your stars as there not always going to be visible..
5d · 105
Satin Chains
Imprisoned in
     satin seductions,
     like a jail cell of purity stained.


You were meant
          to be my saviour.

          But you sold me on like cattle..
I'm a wondering soul,
      That has no footsteps
To call my own.  

All you step is on imprints
                           Of the past,
Showing  you the right steps to take...
Sep 9 · 91
Deaths Quotes #1
Poetic T Sep 9
I tasted your breath
                  like wine,
                  and when it soured.

                  I dropped the bottle...
Sep 9 · 96
Death Quotes #4
Poetic T Sep 9
Every clock stops,
         it just depends which chime.

Yours was twenty seconds ago..

This grandfather is never being wound again.
Sep 9 · 117
Death Quotes #3
Poetic T Sep 9
Life is just a grain falling
          to an inevitable conclusion.

That is, every tide comes in and
                                       drowns it.
Sep 9 · 86
Death Quotes #2
Poetic T Sep 9
I plucked your heart
               like a cherry.

crushing it till
            the pip
                        cracked.
Poetic T Sep 9
Her legs weren't stairways
to heaven, for these ladders
       were anything but safe.

Pulled fibres collected
                          unsuspecting  
Victims to be caught upon
                    her wondering lusts.

For the best poison was that
   which took time to kill.
   And her bite was anything
   but fast acting upon her prey.

She never charged as much as
      those who were below her class.
              For she was scorned before.

And those who chose her beauty over
         instinct, only had themselves
                                                to blame.

For her man, was a walker of corners,
                      catching eyes of cheap thrills.
       His gift to her was a ring and a death sentence
                                                                        of A.I.D.S..

And now she passes the gift given without consent,
        to those who would choose a vine vintage soured
by gangrene grapes.  They'll all taste her sweetness,
     only to poisoned by its taste after swallowing  it.
Sep 9 · 87
When Problems Tighten
Poetic T Sep 9
I clung to hope,
              but it was to tight
                             to loosen.

I swung silently in despair.
Sep 9 · 86
rough waters
Poetic T Sep 9
rough waters

pebbles do tumble
rocky shores
3/5/3 haiku
Sep 7 · 86
Organic Thoughts
Poetic T Sep 7
Synthetic thoughts,
compromised  by organic
                            reflections.

synaptic pathways
                           worn down
by rudimentary contemplations.

"What am I"

Am I who I see
                        or
am I just memoires
              looking back..
Aug 26 · 230
Crayon Smiles
Poetic T Aug 26
Walking up to mummy,
            he says look at my smile.
I wanted to cheer you up.

            I made my smile rainbows,
                               to brighten you up.
A little one wants to cheer up his mommy so he colours in his teeth, and says look a smile of rainbows for mummy to know every smile is a rainbow smiling back at you.
Aug 26 · 176
When She Wove Clouds
Poetic T Aug 26
Clouds howling in winds of
momentary grace. She looks above
seeing that the clouds greet within
thin veils of silver linings wherein.

Woven her gentile strokes birthed
a new cub the vapours nursed
within her grasp. Eagerly clouds
darken, tears fall from howling shrouds.


A bellowing wind, more a fresh breeze
between fingers rises. A solitary ease
as it lifts to the waiting pack above her.
All become a hue, howling within a blur.
Aug 24 · 310
Beauty Is Braille
Poetic T Aug 24
Beauty is braille
written in the fingertips.

Never reading a word upon you,
              as my palms were pages.


And you were every word on them.
Aug 24 · 309
What The Universe See`s
Poetic T Aug 24
When we look above ourselves,
            A universe looks back.
And sees just little
                          0101010001010's
Aug 13 · 627
A Single Raindrop
Poetic T Aug 13
Woven patches of grey,
hues slow in momentum.
Tattered gaps letting through
              gleams of radiance.

But in motion do the faults
get sewn in silver linings.
And this blanket  
             mesmerising below.

Then the lonely flower opens
       its petals, reaching towards
the patch work of loving greys
                 yearning for a touch.

A singular drop falls, taking its
                   time to meet below.
So far has it descended to gently
              caress her wilting petals.

Replenished dew drops hang from
                         now pristine colours.
It waves in the subtle breeze,
      swaying in a dance of gratitude.
its amazing what a little kindness can give to others.
Poetic T Aug 12
Wounds were never
             afflicted with
repercussion of syllable lesions..

No quite the opposite,
       Unfamiliar tastes on the
       tongue, cleansed improper tastes.
Washing ones mouth out with salt clears undue tastes..
Poetic T Aug 12
Swollen branches arched
              downwards
               towards the new born
                                   seedlings..

Opening there branches to
          let them flourish on
           the open skies  
beyond there yearning grasps
25 words
Poetic T Aug 12
A medium of perpetual reflections
that never swing
                   between the  antecedent
occasions that were between now.

For a horizon never setting is rising
before the winding fractions that
             perceive the timely momentum
going forth before every step.

The past is a frame of what is expected,
        what was learnt as mistakes.
Guiding us to not misstep on those
          faults but build bridges forward.

We have so many memories to make,
               so many pages not yet written.
But every page is a footstep and were
only half way through our novel
                                         of life's moments.
Poetic T Aug 10
Beyond the throws of gravities
                     memories swinging.

Collecting  views of
                           sorrowful glances.

Swinging, a hangman
                          regretful essences.

But never once feeling the noose
                   tighten, tears hang here.
Aug 10 · 1.3k
When One Isnt An Option
Poetic T Aug 10
Cuteness wasn't this adorable,
            
                 "Buy1 get 1free"

Never one to let bargains growl at me..

                 I brought the pack!!
                              
                           ­          "Smitten"
Poetic T Aug 10
Following the words of tongue
         that flow like rivers,
coming from different streams.
             Each can venture on different
meanings, like the flow carrying petals
          of indifference upon
                   the riptide of contemplation.

Even though everyone shall drink from
             the knowledge flowing, each taste
            may divide from another and even
though the source maybe the same.
         Every sunrise is minutely different from
                                                          yesterday.
Gleaming on the flow of words, the reflection
                   upon each maybe not the taste of others.


Let us not differ on the source, but let us drink
                quietly upon the reflection that with
every drink brings ripples of reflection upon
all that drink from the knowledge that is swallowed.
There is one source and we are all part of its meaning.
Poetic T Aug 10
I was a journey of tracks leading to a
                  vacant lot. Never were my
wheels meant to traverse more than
              when they stagnated soundless.

But then you found the embers still
              smouldering ever so serene.
Not looking like they needed a breath
to give life to an ending that was certain.

You put your exhalation upon the tracks,
               warming the rust of sorrow away.
Where the haunting memories lingered, you gave
them the means to move past the forest of loneliness.

There was no voyage worth a singular motion,
         but you showed me the mist wasn't forever.
And together we tracked old tracks cutting deep,
             together we healed ever route yesterdays fading.
Aug 9 · 418
Others Commentary...
Poetic T Aug 9
What! the What!
               was that which I think
                              were syllables
perpetrating from the sewer
                 of their open commentary
on my life.

As though it was a live play.

                And they were the voice over
scrapping at my thoughts.
                                  Well if I were you!
When did I ask this magpie of gossip
to intrude on my daily reflections.
       But no you stain that window
               I want to stare outward too.

Mind your own business, I know yours
went bankrupt long ago..
           Never paying dues to what you paid out.
But never counting the cost of what
                          every word cost you.

Now its time to change that channel
                                      to white noise.
All the persistent vocals drowned out.
Now I can watch my life without commentary.
Others should watch themselves not others
             just because your is a repeat of a dull life.
Poetic T Aug 9
Visual delusions:

Scrutinizing the acuity of
            what is visualized.
But sight is only validated
by the morality glazed over.
Until narratives are edited
to mimic a reality of self delusion.


Oral formalization

Dictation versed within syllable
            delusions, never sounding
the reflection of thought to breath.
But sour exhalation collects on
vacant windows, spelling other
          than what is breathed outwards.


Auditory silence

Auditions drummed within,
echoing on shallow walls,
           nothing wrote within
A tirade of failures woven with
three perceptions. Collective ignorance
.
Aug 2 · 152
The Same Cord Twice
Poetic T Aug 2
Sullen woes are collected between
            the instrumental vows that crave tears.
With each key that speaks beyond
                                        the hearing of emotion.

We all listen deeply to the last cord,
             played and realize
               that there is more than us.

And within every  reflection,
          we see were all but systematic keys
          being played
through life's chorus of finite moments.

And were never going to play the same cord twice.
Poetic T Aug 1
liquid love poured from
           seeping fissures.
And she tasted his every moment.

He gave his essence so she could
       linger within a lifetime of memoires.
And she saw every pain of his existence.

Within her tears were reflections of his
            momentary happiness with her.
Knowing she would drain his pain away.


"To collect the pain of another
         is to know the true emotions
         of what its like to live within there anguish
"

We only know those we love truly by tasting
        the dirt left behind in there footsteps.
Everyone has prints in the past wished brushed away.
Jul 31 · 125
Uneducated Whimper
Poetic T Jul 31
Uneducated is the one preserving
            the other as lesser than they.
For without knowing,
              you are less educated
               in self than in words..
Jul 29 · 116
The Last Ones
Poetic T Jul 29
Opiephait, the Calm, fell from the heavens,
              Never one to be assumed with such
                                                    an honour of his name.
Holding in his dying breath, expelling it upon
himself, a sun exploded momentarily  below.
    Dying proud, a funeral pyre of destruction below.

Now there was but two left, ladies of earth & air.
Pedanth, of Eternal Fire, and true to her standing
     she glassed the earth with tears of sorrow.
And ash crept away, but no release was given.
          For the elven warrior, whispered incantations,
Woven with hues of elemental synergy.
Cinders became formless ones, extensions of her will.

That night the earth wailed, for the wrath of the
          last would make there presence felt.
They won the battle, and to this day
     the shard desert is a reminder of what is possible
            when two minds woven in grief can accomplish.

            There resting place is upon the shattered mountain.
Where within frost glass they stand.
                        For when they are needed,
they will scorch the stars,
                                            to help those in desperation.
Jul 29 · 649
A Purse Of Many Riches
Poetic T Jul 29
Ambrosial stitches weave
       on the seams of closeness.
Arms encompassing beyond grasps,
           never loosing the palms of the other.

Under burgundy does modesty elude,
              outlines of what is crafted beneath.
Locking intimacy together,
                               virtues never revealing.

They are the keepers of each other,
        richness ever filling within.
                     For if every penny was love,
plentiful would there togetherness bring.
Jul 28 · 384
Limitations of normality
Poetic T Jul 28
Our forward motion is only
        Contradicted by the backward
Thoughts that trip us over on the
Journey of what should be strides.


But we must learn to face the
      Deductions that minus every
Second motion. Limiting us to normality.

                      Where born to be more.

So never let ourselves be
         Testament to others regression.
  We will always step beyond the safety
          of ourselves and fall like petals.
Jul 28 · 689
Bitten beyond our worth
Poetic T Jul 28
Beneath the voidless
     Do the fearful linger
For they will devour the
Flesh that caresses beneath
                   The faceless warmth.

For underneath they will feed on
       The cloistered hunger that
Has collected deep within the veins
        Light made form upon reflection.

When is a lusting more than the phase
Of hope, where light is consumed
     Beyond ourselves.
  We are but vessels of fear lingering.

"There is a snake that's fangs drain
     The light, but we only notice the poison
                           when darkness caresses the
Fallen Lids off our sight
"
Jul 19 · 1.0k
Ours Was Always A Failing
Poetic T Jul 19
Incandescent virtues , yet I'm a drought within .
I read tealeaves in mouldy cups of our tainted futures.
Our wicks that never saw the light, even though burnt out.
Untenable sight that we drank deeply on, but still thirsted for.
Poetic T Jul 17
Beneath infertile fields,
              where the breath seeping
beyond view would suffocate
the life of mans impoverished
                                           wondering.

Curiosity was a misconception
             what was submerged was
not as above. For eggs lay dormant
feeding on the impoverished fumes.
Like lullabies grazing upon it
                                              slumbering.

But local folk were wiser upon the
land, greeting the field from afar.
      For what was legend was fact instead.
When the earth did breath with rumbling
discontent they knew the land was ready
to birth new life from fields of purgatory.

Majestic wings flew from afar,
                 and villagers gazed at
this beauty of imagining, as bones
scatted like seed over a field of infertile
                                           hallucinations.
But where some dreams die, one awakens.

As the earth heaves like a womb being
awoken by birth, so seeps the blood of
the earth, alight in a concussion of vivid
hues of fire and life,
                                 graced by eyes afar.

Flame danced around this new birth,
          as it inhaled the flame, expelling
                a fountain of new born breath.
And the villagers cheered, the new born
looked, but the mother knew that there was
          nothing to fear for this place was safe.

A tradition of old, letting those who dare
wonder, treasure hunters, armies had tried
to collect the bounty of this land,  for with
birth comes riches from deep in the earth.
          But the villagers had the wealth of
seeing this every few hundred years.

But the dragon always paid its debt,
       as wings of frail flight learned the
                    dynamics of wind and wings.
A hand gestured to the well, and falling
a bountiful harvest of gem stones.
like a rainbow finding its place of birth,
so many filled the sky with there descent.

And then as before and times long ago.
       with eyes adjusted to not gaze on the
field, a mother does neatly once again
hide her worth beneath the earth.
          So long from now a new child will
see the happiness of a mother on infertile earth.
Jul 17 · 443
Why Was I Left Alone
Poetic T Jul 17
You looked at me father, weren't my
eyes the reflection of yours, did I not
     smile in glazed view at the words
misunderstood but still a vibration
of what I heard in the womb of mother.

Yet, just because I'm not of male,
                        but female without my choosing
you want me to be just a memory.
Like a conception of love was voided
                         at the moment of my birth.

Woven in a blanket, angers voiced echoed
              I felt the taste of the air linger in
distasted tears as mother picked me up.
            kissing my lips, her tears of
                        pain and regret I could taste.

But father had me now, I was in the cold
             I felt his love dissipate.
             Silence was his voice now.
Not even a gentle goodbye,
but like yesterdays newspaper discarded.

Tears cradled my face, not understanding
             why this cold night grasped at me
more lovingly than fathers last embrace.
My expressions silenced as I ran out of tears.

I heard a mumbled voice,
                           not of father or mother.
But a gentle one of age, more secure in
the visible definition that I was a girl.
Holding me tightly, I heard others words.
I wasn't alone any longer, but what was my fate.

My daddy, told me the tale of my birth,
           and the implications of what back
then seemed like weakness.
But I have shown the world, that no matter
your gender it still has equal worth.

The past is a scar that still hurts,
        Never knowing my true family,
if they could ever have been called that.
But this family, this gentleman and my
        my loving mother, kept me warm.

Now I'm older, old mistakes of culture
        and religion are melding with modern
society, no longer are girls left to fend alone.
We are seen through eyes of love and compassion.
Not through the eyes of an abandonment of love.
Jul 15 · 110
Undercurrents Of Lies
Poetic T Jul 15
Weak minds
   block stronger voices.
for a voice that speaks
                              truths
always conflict with the
     rationalization of others
                             ignorance.

Never let lies seep beneath the
                          waters of truth
and float like away in the
   undercurrents of denial.

There are always layers to
                        truth..
But lies are only one layer
folded upon another getting
tighter and more unstable
with every moment its breathed.
Jul 14 · 124
Diffrent Lenses
Poetic T Jul 14
We are all thoughts that aren't
                              as tuned as others.
But even though we see through
                              different lenses
some lessons can be learnt
        from the refraction of others view.
Jul 13 · 126
Festive Fight Club
Poetic T Jul 13
Seasons greetings go with a cheer, who will be the
Winner of this nights festive fight club, now here.
Starting with Santa the Easter bunny with his
Whipping ear, Santa starts with a hoho... startling
The bunny as he gives him two to the ear.

No rules in this game we come to see, as the Easter
Bunny drops two eggs, does something smell rotten
In here, eyes watering he can hardly see as the whipping
Ear screeches and straight across fathers tummy.

In pain he shouts I'm so jolly, is this the end of Claus,
No as Santa jumps up higher than the bunny can see,
Landing on Easter knocking him cold with his enormous
Belly, with a hoho.. and I feel jolly,
any one for rabbit I'm starving.

Easters out Christmas is in next round
Let it begin, Halloween enters the ring
Chills down the spine the fights about
To begin. Then explosions around guy
Fawkes jumps in will this end with a bang
Or bewitched the fight is about to begin.

Guy goes for a punch but misses his swing,
Less of a BANG more a wet match fizzle, then
Trying to light his powder a flame needed
But none to be found, Halloween does come
Back skeletons grab through the ground, as
Possessed is Fawkes as he jumps up and down
Madness has taken him whispers say around.

This was a match of two but only one is around,
As guy runs with speed and knocks him self
Out a corner post face print seen all around,
Not the explosive finish we were expecting to
See, then like a ghost Halloween reappears
With a ghoulish laughter the round
                                       Won spookily it seems.
Jul 13 · 513
I`m A Father..
Poetic T Jul 13
"I'm a father, and I don't do a few things.

A father doesn't babysit his kids,
            what are you part time?
Wake up, if your thinking this,
your not father material
                    your a sperm bank for hire.

I don't get drunk in-front of my kids,
                     you slurring your words.
Anger making you lash out.
           That's a problem,  you see
       love is kindness, not anger and grief.

"I'm a father and I do a few things right.

A father reads to his kids, imagination
            ignited in little minds.
    
"ROAR" went the dino baby as
    it showed mummy and daddy
its new voice that it found.
   Trees trembled and the earth
             did jump for this little dino
showed off the voice
                          "ROAR" it never knew it had.


A father looks after them when there sick.
                           Team mummy and daddy.

Snooty Maggie,
                    that's mummies section.
Green little monsters popping out of noses,
slim trails on white tissues, so gross.
                           Buggers make daddy heave.

Pukky Pedro,
now this is daddies area.
         scrap the chunks,  
         clean the sheets, give them a shower.
Now get the bucket, that rests next to the
                                                 little ones bed.
Sleep my baby, mummy and daddy are close.

A father is meant to show love,
                                    don't be a part timer.
Were meant to be proud of what we have or had
with the love of our life.
                        We created someone,
who will bring a smile to eithers face just with a look.
Poetic T Jul 12
Empathy sheathed within
           every declaration that
eclipsed upon my eyes.
As I watched every word in form.

For your voice wasn't just
           affirmation of intent.
It was a visual  guidance
          a purpose of no harm.

Genial whispers waved over me,
          never sinking but guided
to shores of empathy.
         you were my voice of calm.
Jul 10 · 1.1k
Metaphors Of Us
Poetic T Jul 10
You are a metaphor
       Of love given meaning.
For your every breath
      Is a syllable of the heart.

And your words are reflections,
        In a mind that gains from
The simplistic nouns and vowels
                             That speak to me

               From your heart.
Poetic T Jul 10
You held every star in place,
        keeping a glimmer above me.
Never letting me be alone
                                in the darkness.

Every grain connected echoes
of your voice,
                     uncertainty pierced
that place and I looked above.
Dots connecting to a constellation
                       of you setting me free.

I was never alone, you were the shooting
                     star that I wished upon.
Grazing the atmosphere of my troubles.
                 You were always within me,
looking at you I see every constellation
                      glistening above me.
Poetic T Jul 10
I never doubt when I close
my eyes that I'll awaken
               to those eyes shut
waiting for the words
                          "I love you"

That cheeky smile yawning,
        stretching into a new morning.
And your first words are
                                    "Coffee"
Her first love, then me.

I never wish the days away,
   but I look forward to opening
my eyes after every sunset.
   for when the morning
      awakens I see you before my sight
Poetic T Jul 7
Even though I sank below
         the fatigue of life.

I was never worn,
         instead I was steadfast.

Never being eroded by others
             singular erosion.

I was more than your reflection,
                 never eroding beneath your gaze..
Jul 4 · 112
Exhaled falseness
Poetic T Jul 4
Your word are like a
collapsed
               lung.

Deflated and of
                little worth.

Let actions  speak more than
Exhaled breaths,
               not even gasped upon.
Jul 2 · 499
dehydrated dreams [H]
Poetic T Jul 2
dehydrated dreams
fall like corpses
wilted leaves of night terrors
Jun 30 · 298
There Was A Time
Poetic T Jun 30
Dilapidated tears evaporated,
         where days descended
one by one like dead leaves
                    falling day by day.

A celebration of agonizing
     desolation where this aging
of youth was culpable to silence.
Candles engraved with fleeting dejection.

With every breath,
          years were extinguished.
beyond the grasp if youthful
                               understanding.

But we gather our days and realise
     that even though were vacant
of smiles now, there will be a time
of  celebration, where your surrounded
                                 with faithful friendships.
Jun 30 · 109
When A Machine Cried
Poetic T Jun 30
When we become
     less than human,
     it'll take the creation of man
  
For us to realise our humanity again..
Jun 30 · 124
Colbalt Moments Unlocked
Poetic T Jun 30
Stagnant azure silently peels
      above the clouds of old oak
       that hover mutely behind It.

Fleeting sunlight is obscured
         behind shadows of daytimes
passing, its frailty now closed .

Beyond this fleeting moment
           is a cloudless rendition of
happiness unlocked momentarily.
Jun 29 · 111
Mans Moral Delusions
Poetic T Jun 29
Deities are mans delusions
                     and weakness,
that manifest within our moral
                               standing.

In words that have meant
           we don't see as one.
But only see through the
              moral stance of the writer.

Who is mans own prejudice incarnate.
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