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darkcloud  Mar 2019
blurr
darkcloud Mar 2019
tears fall like daggers
my skin- dry and ripped;
the sweat drips differently
and the blood flow slows.
patience and positivity keeps the wheels turning,
but there is a breaking point on the horizon.
soon i will stand up to depression,
but for now,
i sit and wait.
going through a couple things and i want to get my message across through poems. to those who are struggling, i hope to reach out to you through my work. enjoy.
Erenn  May 2015
Dreams of White
Erenn May 2015
That dream that I had,
It was a blurr
But your face i see ever so clearly.
Everything was white
You smiled at me happily;
A premonition as you see it.
You told me,
"Maybe I dumped you on that day."
The truth is,
You held my hand clutching it tightly
You were wearing your wedding dress.
**And it was our wedding day.
The rest of what happened in my dream.
Simone  Mar 2010
Accident
Simone Mar 2010
Sleep made her eyes droop
Tears made her eyes blurr
Stress made her reactions slow
Love made her heart heavy
Rain made the road slick
The crash made her life change
Patricia Rosales Mar 2014
Whenever they ask me "What Happened"
I just look at them and say "It's complicated"
I thought it was going so well then all of the sudden,
We go back to strangers; as if we never dated,

It started off as a simple game
I never planned to make you mine,
I never thought you'd feel the same,
We just started talking; from exchanging half gearted insults to cheesy pickup lines,

The thought of us being "more than friends" seemed so sureal,
So I honestly didn't know how to feel,

Until I finally gathered enough courage to ask you,
If you felt the same way about me too,
After your "yes", the happiness was basically all a blurr
But Like they say, love barely lasts forever,
I started to have second thoughts about us being together,
I lost motivation,
Even to reply to your simplest questions,
I didnt keep up a conversation,
I took you for granted,
Barely gave you things you wanted,
Yet somehow I still hate how we ended,
Countless nights contemplating my mistakes,
Countless attenpts to forget you for every shot I take,
Drinking away all the things I did wrong,
Reminiscing from a stupid love song,

Maybe it is true,
That I probably didn't deserve you,
I can't believe how fast you found someone new,
It kills me to think about my biggest regret;
Letting go of a girl I can never forget
Donall Dempsey Oct 2018
WHAT A WONDERFUL LITTLE BOY

The view
gazes at him.

The landscape gathers
itself about him

as if he were a piece of pigment
in a painting a blob or blurr

of blue or green or
something in between.

"What a wonderful little boy!"
a passing cloud, pauses...muses

and says once more in case the hill
hadn't heard.

"What a wonderful little boy indeed!"
a tree agrees...winking...its leaves.

A river runs through him
alive in his senses.

The grass runs all over
the field tickling his naked toes.

Sunlight throws
itself at his feet

bows before him in all
its glory.

A breeze throws his hat high
up in the sky and

returns it to his hand
as if by command.

The clouds grazing now
upon a hill top

fascinated by his presence
how he has come to be.

"He makes us feel
so very much alive!"

One cloud nods
to another.

"Oh, there's a poet in him
to be sure to be sure!"

the river remarks
its voice clamouring over stones.

Time that sheep dog barks
but the clouds only luahg

"See how he lends us
his voice

in order that we may think
and speak.

Look I'm talking
in human words."

"Ballea...Ballea...Ballea!"
the farm shouts its name.

Again and again and again
the river exclaims

"Owenabui...Owenabui...Owenabui!"
sunlight dancing in its voice.

A bird stands stock still
upon the air

neither coming or going
just standing on nothing

as if it were a punctuation mark
typed upon the sky.

Time returns now
in policeman mood.

"Move along now...nothing to see here
move along now!"

And the landscape loses a voice
the sky its ability to see
the cloud has no words
the bird become a dot

only the sunset
whispers to an horizon

"What a wonderful
wonderful little boy!"
SøułSurvivør Dec 2015
the carousel played
in the carnival park
bright music to lure
tinkling lights in the dark

spirited ponies, animals quaint
all snorting and rearing
colored with paint

the spinning floor stops
for us to get on
we choose our mounts
it starts with a song

up and down go the horses
the calliope sings
as we go 'round we reach out for the rings

sometimes we miss them
they go on by
but there's always a chance
for the second try

the turning seasons
so very like life
you get your good job
your husband or wife

your car and your boat
your kids and their stuff
you go 'round and 'round
but you can't get enough!

then all of a sudden
death cuts like a knife
and you discover you've wasted your life

the scenery, the colors
just a smear. just a blurr
the music passed by
your heart was not stirred!

you didn't smell seabreeze
feel the wind in your face
you didn't seek God
missed out on His
GRACE

LIFE IS THE JOURNEY
but you forgot
you passed up the beauty
without a thought

LIFE ISN'T ALL GOLD
it don't mean a thing
so reach for the
Rose
as well as the
RING

reach out for
GOD
He's important as well
when you take your ride
on the bright

CAROUSEL


SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/15/2015



c
another poem I saved from archives
it was first written in 2013 but I did an extensive rewrite
Ezra Pound  Aug 2009
Canto 49
For the seven lakes, and by no man these verses:
Rain; empty river; a voyage,
Fire from frozen cloud, heavy rain in the twilight
Under the cabin roof was one lantern.
The reeds are heavy; bent;
and the bamboos speak as if weeping.

Autumn moon; hills rise about lakes
against sunset
Evening is like a curtain of cloud,
a blurr above ripples; and through it
sharp long spikes of the cinnamon,
a cold tune amid reeds.
Behind hill the monk’s bell
borne on the wind.
Sail passed here in April; may return in October
Boat fades in silver; slowly;
Sun blaze alone on the river.

Where wine flag catches the sunset
Sparse chimneys smoke in the cross light

Comes then snow scur on the river
And a world is covered with jade
Small boat floats like a lanthorn,
The flowing water closts as with cold. And at San Yin
they are a people of leisure.

Wild geese swoop to the sand-bar,
Clouds gather about the hole of the window
Broad water; geese line out with the autumn
Rooks clatter over the fishermen’s lanthorns,

A light moves on the north sky line;
where the young boys **** stones for shrimp.
In seventeen hundred came Tsing to these hill lakes.
A light moves on the South sky line.

State by creating riches shd. thereby get into debt?
Thsi is infamy; this is Geryon.
This canal goes still to TenShi
Though the old king built it for pleasure

K E I M E N R A N K E I
K I U M A N M A N K E I
JITSU GETSU K O K W A
T A N FUKU T A N K A I

Sun up; work
sundown; to rest
dig well and drink of the water
dig field; eat of the grain
Imperial power is? and to us what is it?

The fourth; the dimension of stillness.
And the power over wild beasts.
Since I met you here, dear friend
I began to like this place a lot
at first sight it was eerie here
and the ground for me too hot

As I continued walking
upon untrodden paths
rotten fruit surrounding me
no bees or birds are singing

I wonder walking all alone
no sign of a living soul
all green softness disappeared,
and everywhere was stone

Wondering all the time, no shame
I found a clear chrystal ditch at last
if you will ask about the name
is that the present or in the past?

My head turning, my feet burning
they are to blurr my view
great bliss that pure water and some dew
wish that shall change my head from spinning

Then walking all the while with the same view
I see from far a green stip slowly coming
in seventh heaven am I, since it's a human being
I thank Thee on my naked knees, it is you my friend

I notice beauty yonder
the mockingbird and wren
have a duet together
I wonder since when

After I've met you, friend
I like this place a lot
it's not so eerie anymore
and God's blessings are on this spot


© Sylvia Frances Chan
      27th April 2013
Poetry not my Death
but my Living
not my End but my Beginning
Brother Jimmy Jan 2015
Spinning and spinning
Six little circles
Flushing a life down the drain

Naught but a smidgen of straining, my pidgeon,
A blurr to the vision, euphoric, no pain    

My brain,
Will just shut down
I’ll get
Out of this town
The rain
Gonna pour down and wash me away

Whirling and twirling
My heart in the middle
Graphing the pathway to get the right spin
Crisp calculation, the subtle equation
Causing elation, at last cashing-in

Your brain,
Will just shut down
You'll get
Out of this town
The rain
Gonna pour down and wash you away
  
You must be THIS tall to ride this ride
It’s your human RIGHT to a nice
     suicide
This celestial plane, ...and all of it’s
     strife
We can help you jump past it,
It’s YOUR ******* life!
It’s all in your hands.
You know what to do.
Now is the time
To become the late YOU

Your brain
Will just shut down
You'll get
Out of this town
The rain
Gonna pour down and wash you away
  

My paradigm’s shifting
The veil is lifting
What was I thinking
My heart rate is sinking
And something is stinking
My consciousness shrinking
And what is that ringing
Do I hear choirs singing?
-
Julijonas
Fancy yourself the angel-reaper?
Julijonas Urbonas
Aren't you your brother’s keeper?

Is this just a "what-if", ...for fun?

O Julijonas
Julijonas Urbonas

…What have you done?
Song written upon reading about the death coaster, designed by Mr. Urbonas.
Terra May 2017
I travel trough the heavy rain
I sit lonesome on a lonely train
I play blues
These days are grey,  these nights  are blue
my mind keeps coming back to you
I play the blues

I travel with desire
Past houses lit on fire
I play jazz
Windows lit by sundown
My train-seat old and rundown
I play jazz

Rainbow roads in colored blurr
Pretty little towns I'm sure
I play swing
Past mirror waves and open sky
My stomach tingles, wonder why I
Play swing

***** feet on ***** train
Skin so white I see my veins
I play punk
Impatient taps and flickering lights
Soon the day will turn to night
I play punk

Head in the clouds, mind at ease
Longing for the morning breeze
I play Pink Floyd
Memories hanging from branches
Passengers sharing brief glances
I play Pink Floyd

I'm coming home, I'm on my way, but I travel still...
I travel not by force... yet not by will
Music of choise as soundtrack to the silent film
beyond the windowsill
I wrote this as a little homage to my lonesome travels. I fittingly wrote it on a train during sundown, but it's about my memories as a homeless teenager with no idea what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go, just that I wanted to go somewhere and do something. It's also about that longing for someone I hadn't yet met, that empty space reserved for someone you know you'll eventuelly meet. Luckily, this time I was on my way home to that someone.
I imagine this poem as lyrics to a jazzy tune. Maybe I'll get to try it out one day. I'm no great singer, but I'm reserving space for a trumpet solo in there somewhere.
V  Oct 2017
Woe and Behold
V Oct 2017
Behold the man who terrfies with power,
Behold the man who can **** a king with his glower.
All hail the man who has it all,
All hail the man who cannot fall.

Woe to the man who fears judgement day,
He paces and turns the clock off in fear driven rage.
Woe to the man who hides his pills from the other "eyes",
He sits vengeful at his past, masking it with every lie.
Woe to the man who doesn't sleep at night,
For he regrets selling is soul, he doesn't sleep in fright.
Woe to the men who are evil, for deep down they do not know,
Their sickness has overcome them, they aren't aware they are suffering, barely able to crawl.

Behold the one who sees it all,
It is I, the lowly, the injured, the small.
Behold the one with the love for the wolves when the world does not,
I love what the world only wishes to die and rot.
The evil are not born evil, some this truth is no option,
For many, "Go to hell, you deserve no love, you are just a toxcin."
I have grown to love what you consider "wicked",
Despite my life, I am the victim.
I can only love and forgive, no hatred after all these years,
I still pray for them, behind my bruises, scars and tears.

We could both debate, argue and try to pursuade, but I care too much, I will not lie behind hate.
Perhaps a weakness, call me pathetic,
but I was sent to heal the broken,
Even if it makes me just as sick.

Without a cure, how can we heal?
Without a heaven, there is only hell.

I fear the day when I am free,
I fear the day this chord is broken,
Killing them from me.
What will be left is me the murderer,
Me to mourn their decay;
And what will be left is just a dream, a blurr.
A pain I cannot bare to think it,
I cannot stomach that, not even for a bit.

So, woe and behold,
The evil, the sick,
Whom society and the mind is their virus,
A good soul their antibiotic.
Survivor of SRA/CSA and multiple traumas.
To my abusers, whom I could never find it in my heart to harbour hatred and vengence, for doing so would keep me not only prisoner, but blind.
Despite all the pain they have given me and the freedom, innocence, and stabilty I may never have again, I have learned to love and understand their pain deep inside.
What has made them, them today...
What has destroyed them.
I hated seeing that pain.
I have done everything I could to be what I believed "a cure" for their troubled hearts.
Who knows if what I did found them.

It kills me still that I don't feel "sane" without them, as if I killed them by escaping because at one time they said "we were one".
Yes, I still deal with heavy Stockholm Syndrome, but for me, loving and forgiving is what I will never not do.

As said, no one is born evil,
No one is born with a black heart.
I wished society can understand this,
but there is nothing more I can do.

To all surviors of all trauma large or small, May peace, happiness and freedom forever be with you. <3
Marigolds Fever Jan 2019
Her Diamond Mind
Rests in Pure Carbon Mine
Shining Fluorescence
Never left her with obsolescence
Light refraction
Quite the distraction
Ice rink on her finger
A monetary stinger
Gem best friend
How much did he spend?
Frozen Pond reflection
of the hardest affection
Ice rock speaks to only her
Don't be a gem amateur
Clear crystal quartz won't do Sir
with its dim blurr
Follow the four C's
Scintillation gleams
Cut determines its prism
At first sight brings hypnotism
Color - a rainbow brilliance
Smiles with each glance
More clarity for radiance
All eyes may be romanced
Be prepared for a trance
Carat weight
Might be the bait
Year after year
Continual glimmer
With every light flicker
Marigold's Fever 2019

— The End —