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John Keats  Jun 2009

     Deep in the shady sadness of a vale
Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,
Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one star,
Sat gray-hair'd Saturn, quiet as a stone,
Still as the silence round about his lair;
Forest on forest hung above his head
Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there,
Not so much life as on a summer's day
Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass,
But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
A stream went voiceless by, still deadened more
By reason of his fallen divinity
Spreading a shade: the Naiad 'mid her reeds
Press'd her cold finger closer to her lips.

     Along the margin-sand large foot-marks went,
No further than to where his feet had stray'd,
And slept there since.  Upon the sodden ground
His old right hand lay nerveless, listless, dead,
Unsceptred; and his realmless eyes were closed;
While his bow'd head seem'd list'ning to the Earth,
His ancient mother, for some comfort yet.

     It seem'd no force could wake him from his place;
But there came one, who with a kindred hand
Touch'd his wide shoulders, after bending low
With reverence, though to one who knew it not.
She was a Goddess of the infant world;
By her in stature the tall Amazon
Had stood a pigmy's height: she would have ta'en
Achilles by the hair and bent his neck;
Or with a finger stay'd Ixion's wheel.
Her face was large as that of Memphian sphinx,
Pedestal'd haply in a palace court,
When sages look'd to Egypt for their lore.
But oh! how unlike marble was that face:
How beautiful, if sorrow had not made
Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.
There was a listening fear in her regard,
As if calamity had but begun;
As if the vanward clouds of evil days
Had spent their malice, and the sullen rear
Was with its stored thunder labouring up.
One hand she press'd upon that aching spot
Where beats the human heart, as if just there,
Though an immortal, she felt cruel pain:
The other upon Saturn's bended neck
She laid, and to the level of his ear
Leaning with parted lips, some words she spake
In solemn tenor and deep ***** tone:
Some mourning words, which in our feeble tongue
Would come in these like accents; O how frail
To that large utterance of the early Gods!
"Saturn, look up!---though wherefore, poor old King?
I have no comfort for thee, no not one:
I cannot say, 'O wherefore sleepest thou?'
For heaven is parted from thee, and the earth
Knows thee not, thus afflicted, for a God;
And ocean too, with all its solemn noise,
Has from thy sceptre pass'd; and all the air
Is emptied of thine hoary majesty.
Thy thunder, conscious of the new command,
Rumbles reluctant o'er our fallen house;
And thy sharp lightning in unpractised hands
Scorches and burns our once serene domain.
O aching time! O moments big as years!
All as ye pass swell out the monstrous truth,
And press it so upon our weary griefs
That unbelief has not a space to breathe.
Saturn, sleep on:---O thoughtless, why did I
Thus violate thy slumbrous solitude?
Why should I ope thy melancholy eyes?
Saturn, sleep on! while at thy feet I weep."

     As when, upon a tranced summer-night,
Those green-rob'd senators of mighty woods,
Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars,
Dream, and so dream all night without a stir,
Save from one gradual solitary gust
Which comes upon the silence, and dies off,
As if the ebbing air had but one wave;
So came these words and went; the while in tears
She touch'd her fair large forehead to the ground,
Just where her fallen hair might be outspread
A soft and silken mat for Saturn's feet.
One moon, with alteration slow, had shed
Her silver seasons four upon the night,
And still these two were postured motionless,
Like natural sculpture in cathedral cavern;
The frozen God still couchant on the earth,
And the sad Goddess weeping at his feet:
Until at length old Saturn lifted up
His faded eyes, and saw his kingdom gone,
And all the gloom and sorrow ofthe place,
And that fair kneeling Goddess; and then spake,
As with a palsied tongue, and while his beard
Shook horrid with such aspen-malady:
"O tender spouse of gold Hyperion,
Thea, I feel thee ere I see thy face;
Look up, and let me see our doom in it;
Look up, and tell me if this feeble shape
Is Saturn's; tell me, if thou hear'st the voice
Of Saturn; tell me, if this wrinkling brow,
Naked and bare of its great diadem,
Peers like the front of Saturn? Who had power
To make me desolate? Whence came the strength?
How was it nurtur'd to such bursting forth,
While Fate seem'd strangled in my nervous grasp?
But it is so; and I am smother'd up,
And buried from all godlike exercise
Of influence benign on planets pale,
Of admonitions to the winds and seas,
Of peaceful sway above man's harvesting,
And all those acts which Deity supreme
Doth ease its heart of love in.---I am gone
Away from my own *****: I have left
My strong identity, my real self,
Somewhere between the throne, and where I sit
Here on this spot of earth. Search, Thea, search!
Open thine eyes eterne, and sphere them round
Upon all space: space starr'd, and lorn of light;
Space region'd with life-air; and barren void;
Spaces of fire, and all the yawn of hell.---
Search, Thea, search! and tell me, if thou seest
A certain shape or shadow, making way
With wings or chariot fierce to repossess
A heaven he lost erewhile: it must---it must
Be of ripe progress---Saturn must be King.
Yes, there must be a golden victory;
There must be Gods thrown down, and trumpets blown
Of triumph calm, and hymns of festival
Upon the gold clouds metropolitan,
Voices of soft proclaim, and silver stir
Of strings in hollow shells; and there shall be
Beautiful things made new, for the surprise
Of the sky-children; I will give command:
Thea! Thea! Thea! where is Saturn?"
This passion lifted him upon his feet,
And made his hands to struggle in the air,
His Druid locks to shake and ooze with sweat,
His eyes to fever out, his voice to cease.
He stood, and heard not Thea's sobbing deep;
A little time, and then again he ******'d
Utterance thus.---"But cannot I create?
Cannot I form? Cannot I fashion forth
Another world, another universe,
To overbear and crumble this to nought?
Where is another Chaos? Where?"---That word
Found way unto Olympus, and made quake
The rebel three.---Thea was startled up,
And in her bearing was a sort of hope,
As thus she quick-voic'd spake, yet full of awe.

     "This cheers our fallen house: come to our friends,
O Saturn! come away, and give them heart;
I know the covert, for thence came I hither."
Thus brief; then with beseeching eyes she went
With backward footing through the shade a space:
He follow'd, and she turn'd to lead the way
Through aged boughs, that yielded like the mist
Which eagles cleave upmounting from their nest.

     Meanwhile in other realms big tears were shed,
More sorrow like to this, and such like woe,
Too huge for mortal tongue or pen of scribe:
The Titans fierce, self-hid, or prison-bound,
Groan'd for the old allegiance once more,
And listen'd in sharp pain for Saturn's voice.
But one of the whole mammoth-brood still kept
His sov'reigny, and rule, and majesy;---
Blazing Hyperion on his orbed fire
Still sat, still *****'d the incense, teeming up
From man to the sun's God: yet unsecure:
For as among us mortals omens drear
Fright and perplex, so also shuddered he---
Not at dog's howl, or gloom-bird's hated screech,
Or the familiar visiting of one
Upon the first toll of his passing-bell,
Or prophesyings of the midnight lamp;
But horrors, portion'd to a giant nerve,
Oft made Hyperion ache.  His palace bright,
Bastion'd with pyramids of glowing gold,
And touch'd with shade of bronzed obelisks,
Glar'd a blood-red through all its thousand courts,
Arches, and domes, and fiery galleries;
And all its curtains of Aurorian clouds
Flush'd angerly: while sometimes eagles' wings,
Unseen before by Gods or wondering men,
Darken'd the place; and neighing steeds were heard
Not heard before by Gods or wondering men.
Also, when he would taste the spicy wreaths
Of incense, breath'd aloft from sacred hills,
Instead of sweets, his ample palate took
Savor of poisonous brass and metal sick:
And so, when harbor'd in the sleepy west,
After the full completion of fair day,---
For rest divine upon exalted couch,
And slumber in the arms of melody,
He pac'd away the pleasant hours of ease
With stride colossal, on from hall to hall;
While far within each aisle and deep recess,
His winged minions in close clusters stood,
Amaz'd and full offear; like anxious men
Who on wide plains gather in panting troops,
When earthquakes jar their battlements and towers.
Even now, while Saturn, rous'd from icy trance,
Went step for step with Thea through the woods,
Hyperion, leaving twilight in the rear,
Came ***** upon the threshold of the west;
Then, as was wont, his palace-door flew ope
In smoothest silence, save what solemn tubes,
Blown by the serious Zephyrs, gave of sweet
And wandering sounds, slow-breathed melodies;
And like a rose in vermeil tint and shape,
In fragrance soft, and coolness to the eye,
That inlet to severe magnificence
Stood full blown, for the God to enter in.

     He enter'd, but he enter'd full of wrath;
His flaming robes stream'd out beyond his heels,
And gave a roar, as if of earthly fire,
That scar'd away the meek ethereal Hours
And made their dove-wings tremble. On he flared
From stately nave to nave, from vault to vault,
Through bowers of fragrant and enwreathed light,
And diamond-paved lustrous long arcades,
Until he reach'd the great main cupola;
There standing fierce beneath, he stampt his foot,
And from the basements deep to the high towers
Jarr'd his own golden region; and before
The quavering thunder thereupon had ceas'd,
His voice leapt out, despite of godlike curb,
To this result: "O dreams of day and night!
O monstrous forms! O effigies of pain!
O spectres busy in a cold, cold gloom!
O lank-eared phantoms of black-weeded pools!
Why do I know ye? why have I seen ye? why
Is my eternal essence thus distraught
To see and to behold these horrors new?
Saturn is fallen, am I too to fall?
Am I to leave this haven of my rest,
This cradle of my glory, this soft clime,
This calm luxuriance of blissful light,
These crystalline pavilions, and pure fanes,
Of all my lucent empire?  It is left
Deserted, void, nor any haunt of mine.
The blaze, the splendor, and the symmetry,
I cannot see but darkness, death, and darkness.
Even here, into my centre of repose,
The shady visions come to domineer,
Insult, and blind, and stifle up my pomp.---
Fall!---No, by Tellus and her briny robes!
Over the fiery frontier of my realms
I will advance a terrible right arm
Shall scare that infant thunderer, rebel Jove,
And bid old Saturn take his throne again."---
He spake, and ceas'd, the while a heavier threat
Held struggle with his throat but came not forth;
For as in theatres of crowded men
Hubbub increases more they call out "Hush!"
So at Hyperion's words the phantoms pale
Bestirr'd themselves, thrice horrible and cold;
And from the mirror'd level where he stood
A mist arose, as from a scummy marsh.
At this, through all his bulk an agony
Crept gradual, from the feet unto the crown,
Like a lithe serpent vast and muscular
Making slow way, with head and neck convuls'd
From over-strained might.  Releas'd, he fled
To the eastern gates, and full six dewy hours
Before the dawn in season due should blush,
He breath'd fierce breath against the sleepy portals,
Clear'd them of heavy vapours, burst them wide
Suddenly on the ocean's chilly streams.
The planet orb of fire, whereon he rode
Each day from east to west the heavens through,
Spun round in sable curtaining of clouds;
Not therefore veiled quite, blindfold, and hid,
But ever and anon the glancing spheres,
Circles, and arcs, and broad-belting colure,
Glow'd through, and wrought upon the muffling dark
Sweet-shaped lightnings from the nadir deep
Up to the zenith,---hieroglyphics old,
Which sages and keen-eyed astrologers
Then living on the earth, with laboring thought
Won from the gaze of many centuries:
Now lost, save what we find on remnants huge
Of stone, or rnarble swart; their import gone,
Their wisdom long since fled.---Two wings this orb
Possess'd for glory, two fair argent wings,
Ever exalted at the God's approach:
And now, from forth the gloom their plumes immense
Rose, one by one, till all outspreaded were;
While still the dazzling globe maintain'd eclipse,
Awaiting for Hyperion's command.
Fain would he have commanded, fain took throne
And bid the day begin, if but for change.
He might not:---No, though a primeval God:
The sacred seasons might not be disturb'd.
Therefore the operations of the dawn
Stay'd in their birth, even as here 'tis told.
Those silver wings expanded sisterly,
Eager to sail their orb; the porches wide
Open'd upon the dusk demesnes of night
And the bright Titan, phrenzied with new woes,
Unus'd to bend, by hard compulsion bent
His spirit to the sorrow of the time;
And all along a dismal rack of clouds,
Upon the boundaries of day and night,
He stretch'd himself in grief and radiance faint.
There as he lay, the Heaven with its stars
Look'd down on him with pity, and the voice
Of Coelus, from the universal space,
Thus whisper'd low and solemn in his ear:
"O brightest of my children dear, earth-born
And sky-engendered, son of mysteries
All unrevealed even to the powers
Which met at thy creating; at whose joys
And palpitations sweet, and pleasures soft,
I, Coelus, wonder, how they came and whence;
And at the fruits thereof what shapes they be,
Distinct, and visible; symbols divine,
Manifestations of that beauteous life
Diffus'd unseen throughout eternal space:
Of these new-form'd art thou, O brightest child!
Of these, thy brethren and the Goddesses!
There is sad feud among ye, and rebellion
Of son against his sire.  I saw him fall,
I saw my first-born tumbled from his throne!
To me his arms were spread, to me his voice
Found way from forth the thunders round his head!
Pale wox I, and in vapours hid my face.
Art thou, too, near such doom? vague fear there is:
For I have seen my sons most unlike Gods.
Divine ye were created, and divine
In sad demeanour, solemn, undisturb'd,
Unruffled, like high Gods, ye liv'd and ruled:
Now I behold in you fear, hope, and wrath;
Actions of rage and passion; even as
I see them, on the mortal world beneath,
In men who die.---This is the grief, O son!
Sad sign of ruin, sudden dismay, and fall!
Yet do thou strive; as thou art capable,
As thou canst move about, an evident God;
And canst oppose to each malignant hour
Ethereal presence:---I am but a voice;
My life is but the life of winds and tides,
No more than winds and tides can I avail:---
But thou canst.---Be thou therefore in the van
Of circumstance; yea, seize the arrow's barb
Before the tense string murmur.---To the earth!
For there thou wilt find Saturn, and his woes.
Meantime I will keep watch on thy bright sun,
And of thy seasons be a careful nurse."---
Ere half this region-whisper had come down,
Hyperion arose, and on the stars
Lifted his curved lids, and kept them wide
Until it ceas'd; and still he kept them wide:
And still they were the same bright, patient stars.
Then with a slow incline of his broad breast,
Like to a diver in the pearly seas,
Forward he stoop'd over the airy shore,
And plung'd all noiseless into the deep night.


Just at the self-same beat of Time's wide wings
Hyperion slid into the rustled air,
And Saturn gain'd with Thea that sad place
Where Cybele and the bruised Titans mourn'd.
It was a den where no insulting light
Could glimmer on their tears; where their own groans
They felt, but heard not, for the solid roar
Of thunderous waterfalls and torrents hoarse,
Pouring a constant bulk, uncertain where.
Crag jutting forth to crag, and rocks that seem'd
Ever as if just rising from a sleep,
Forehead to forehead held their monstrous horns;
And thus in thousand hugest phantasies
Made a fit roofing to this nest of woe.
Instead of thrones, hard flint they sat upon,
Couches of rugged stone, and slaty ridge
Stubborn'd with iron.  All were not assembled:
Some chain'd in torture, and some wandering.
Caus, and Gyges, and Briareus,
I ain't in love with the feeling
Yet,i can smell your aroma it's seeping through my veins like a cobra
Words tries to be in arrangement , lines telling stories that i couldn't
Bad memories gnaws my mind, day and night freaking me out
Clouds tries to take me high
Sun is shining , screaming loud
Please just come and give me a hug.
trying to write again..
Ann M Johnson Jun 2014
Two steps forward ten steps back, maybe more and I lost track
What am I working toward, I am swimming in this sea of debt
What is the purpose. did I forget it seems meaningless
I seem to be chasing the wind which I can not catch
I know it might be just a rough patch, but it feels like a door without
a latch, making me feel unsecure
I feel like I'm in quicksand, not on solid ground  
Why do I work so hard, is it only to pay the bills
If so it gives me the chills
It sure is a test of my will
Do I labor in vain, all this worry might drive me insane
It all seems meaningless like trying to catch the wind
Echoes Of A Mind Mar 2016
I'm not perfect
I have a lot of flaws...

I'm not perfect
I make a lot of mistakes...

I'm not perfect
I get easily unsecure
Or nervous as hell...

I'm not perfect
I'm very clumsy
And also very shy,
I don't even dare to touch
The person I like...

I'm not perfect
I never said I was...

I'm not perfect
I am trouble
And a mess...

I'm not perfect
Sometimes I act
Like a *****...

I'm not perfect
In some situations
I become childish...

I'm not perfect
I have a darkside
Which I hate...

I'm not perfect
I don't believe
That anyone could
Love me...

I'm not perfect
And never
Will I be...

I'm not perfect
But aren't you
Just like me?...
No one is perfect we all have our flaws and darksides which we try to hide from other people....
Chalaine Scott Dec 2012
Chalkboards and easels, pencils and toys
Desks lined up in aisles of little girls and boys.
A classroom, learning the A B C’s, two plus two equals four
But this day, all that learning didn’t matter anymore.

A girl with a bow, a boy with a grin
Children with freckles scattered on their skin.
A daughter, a brother, a grandkid, a friend
A lot of moms never thinking these titles would end.

Lego’s and the alphabet, Mrs. Soto taught them how to write a name
And then a mad-man stormed in, with destruction he came.
He shot down a daughter, a son, a wife
He shot down a child, a baby, a life.
Lessons in elementary consist of building Lego’s, catching butterflies in the sky
Lessons as a 6-year-old should never be what your friend looks like as they die.

Moms stuff a lunchbox with treats; Dads stuff a ball in a glove
Parents raise children; stuff a heart full of love.
They teach how to ride a bike, put a band-aid on a scratched up knee
What they should never have to do though, is bury their babies beneath a tree.

But there is evil in this world, a darkness that engulfs the light
There is an evil that reigns that humanity can’t fight.
The safest places are not safe, the most guarded unsecure
In the world we live of ignoring God and provoking massacre.

We denounce Him out of government, our country, and our schools
We ask that He move aside so that we can make the rules.
And then we blame Him when there’s death; but we don’t thank Him when there’s life
We don’t bless Him when there’s goodness; we just curse Him when there’s strife.

Moms are always good at preparing children for the day
With some things that don't matter, clinging to a love that will never go away.
Mothers, kiss your babies. Fathers, hold their hand.
Devastation comes unannounced, we will never understand.

At home in Newtown, a dog sits waiting at the door
He stares out the window, his tail wagging no more.
He sits by the window, lots of time he’ll spend
Waiting to welcome his very best friend
Jump up on her lap, smell her scent, steal her sock
But his owner won’t be coming home; no more leash, no more walk.

I think Jesus sat by his window this very same way
Waiting to welcome His children that awful Friday
He greeted them from His throne that December afternoon
And as they entered through the Pearly Gates, He healed all their wounds.

A classroom filled with giggles, children’s voices - the sweet sound
This same classroom turned from liveliness to a too-young burial ground.
But we hold on to the giggles, and we hold on to their love
And the promise of a Father taking care of them, above.
Breahna Sandlin Feb 2015
Dear* Teddybear,

        You are my closest friend that a person like me could have.
Your smile inspires me to stop the tears from falling and smile with you.
You can hold all my darkest secrets, even the lightest ones too, because we both know you'll never tell a soul.
You keep me sane in an unsecure state of mind when I feel low enough to want to leave you.
I hold you close hoping that you'll be holding me closer until our journey together ends

                                                            Hop­efully Your Closest Friend
Bob B Oct 2018
"They say I shouldn't use my phone
Because it's unsecure.
Anyone who tells me that
Is full of cow manure.
This talk about encryption--
That's a lot of bunk.
The thought of them taking my phone
Puts me in a funk.

"Some in my administration
Say that they foresee
Trouble if foreign spies are really
Listening to me.
Advisers fear that I might share
Secrets, but I say,
That's not easy 'cause I don't under-
Stand them anyway.

"How I love my cell phone
Because I love to tweet!
If they confiscated my phone,
I'd feel incomplete.
Having all my contacts in my
Cell phone really rocks.
I can get advice from all my
People down at Fox.

"I don't want my calls logged.
It really takes some *****
For my Chief of Staff to want to
Monitor my calls.
That's why I prefer to use
My private phone instead.
Who would even want to try
To get inside my head?

"Oh, Hillary's private server?
That's a different story.
Everything she does is in
A different category.
From rules that govern others
I feel I'm exempt.
That has never made my fans
Regard me with contempt.

"So they can't take my iPhone.
That would not be nice.
They say, 'Donald, it's a perfect
Location tracking device.
Spies collect your data
And know each confidant.'
I say, I'm the president,
And I'll do what I want!"

-by Bob B (10-26-18)
Christian Ek Mar 2014
Two a.m, the taste of alcohol lingers in my mouth.
L.A. at night is a walk unsecure, as wolves come out into the cold.
These green neon eyes of predators approach.
Nightfall creates a ghost town. Darkness, a companion of loneliness.
The city is its own wilderness, I watch my step or risk losing my identity. Desperate to escape but poverty is a frustrating trap that can make one break. I can only imagine the life of abandoned corpses, sleeping next to churches, after constant battles of defeat.
Here come the police sirens, protecting the elites, the security force of oppression and brutality.
Where does love fit in this city? It is like love has been removed to save a few dollars and polluted fog put in its place.
I get why people would give anything to hold onto someone at the end of the day.
A city advertised for dreamers but the nightmare of those that do not make it to the spotlight.
I continue to fight despite no handouts.
My memories shaped by experiences in these streets.
Reminding me of what I am made of.  
I will walk in this misconceived city, still breathing, persevering, until I have reached my destination.
For my L.A poets, keep marching on ;)
We the citizens, who live as refugees,
We keep earning & see if our life is turning,
To the price rise, we lose savings,
Still we remain rock-bottom in standard of living.

We belong to the middle class,
Whose life always a breakable thin glass.
Our life remains completely unsettle,
Every second, life tests our mettle.

Life chases us with pressure, failure and useless lecture,
We are nurtured with a fear of future,
Happiness remains just a leisure,
Live with the unsecure & unsure present for a secure future.

We keep us busy and function,
We fear, when there arrives a function,
Towards happiness, we run as a pilgrim,
For the corporates, we become a mere victim.

We run like an athlete for salary, food and target,
For this globalized world, we are just a market,
Like hungry dogs, we wait for increments,
We keep running with bitter disappointments.

We live in own house, only in our dreams,
Our hearts cry with hopeless screams,
Failures remain our tutors,
Inability has turned us the irrecoverable debtors.

Our appearance has a rich look,
We have untold hidden burdens,
That keep us shook,
Keeps us forbidden and fear-ridden.

Low class think us rich,
High class always want us to be their *****,
Politically neglected by the rulers,
Economically exploited by the rich powers.

We exhaust ourself for subsistence,
We remain victorious and satisfied only in our existence,
We lose our life to sustain in competence,
We run our life with a mere persistence.

More than the high class and low class, we suffer,
Our lives never progressed as governments differ,
All see low class with empathy and sympathy,
To our difficulties, we are looked with apathy.

On rich, we are not jealous,
Towards our aim, we are zealous.
Never think we are nothing,
We truly have nothing to lose.

We take risks to make history,
Our path is nothing less than a mystery,
You never allow us to come up,
But we are not going to give up.

Hello High class,
Never pretend to live like us, to exploit us,
Gone are the days, we remained fools,
You will stand a day as the super intelligent fools.

Before, we are hungry for food,
Now, we are hungry to rule,
Before, we feared to live,
Now, we are ready to win the world.

We are nothing! We are nothing
We have nothing to lose!
We won’t stop until having nothing could do nothing to us.
The life that a middle class chap in a country like India goes through cannot be explained. They live and lead a life with full of pressures without even able to allocate time for them. I wish to see a world, where one human never lives a life that gives pain to others.

I don’t wish to see world, where one's prosperity brings pain and sufferings to other!
             (TAMIL POET)
BardOfTheNorth Apr 2015
Thinking now, I miss the late night talks about nothing.
I miss the late night talks about something.
I miss staying on the phone all night playing kingdom hearts.
I miss singing and dancing over skype wanting to never part.
I miss the unsecure security.
I miss your laugh, and I miss your crazy stories.
But most of all,
I miss the simplicity we once had.

The unlikely friendship we shared,
Until we found out we both cared.
I believe everything happens for a reason,
But what if our time has run?
What if it's only just begun?

Is this meant to happen, is it just fate?
Or is it time we closed the gate.
I don't know what path is right.
I'm just so scared to mess up this life.
I wish there was a manuel, or I could see into the future,
Maybe then I could make the suture.
Your soul has changed
with years
riping as a pint
of a dark foamed ale



More now then
ever did you
with girls

back then



I'm sorry I didn't saw
Confident Male





Old souls
Young Nights

Opening our Hearts
With tongues
In our caves

Was your

As a Chess
still enemies

Opening of
. . . . .

Entrance for me
a speck of

dark locks
laser beam look

Then your

to merge
against my

cat bra

Exit for you
Imagined by
Impeccable Space
Poetic Love
I write this for those
Who are complicated like me
Too busy to find a relationship
But not busy enough to be

Lonely as ****,
And when I say that to some,
They are puzzled and befuddled
A single parent raising his son?

How can you be lonely?
That's when I feel the guilt,
Like I'm ungrateful, cuz it's painful
Explaining a brain full of silk

Emotions, that aren't fulfilled
By a child who's a dependent
I can't express the stress on my chest
And secretly lie like a defendant

And whisper everything will work out
When I'm not even sure it will
And it's emasculating to mask the failing
Without someone to distill

Like I do my son, and fill
My head with optimism
That I reciprocate and return, concerned
When they feel like earths a prison

And I'm not asking, ans this isn't
For the pity I despise when given
I just miss, the bliss of a hug and kiss
To remind me I'm still livin

And yes my son gives me this in
The daily grind, but my mind
When I get a minute that's mine
Always wander to nostalgic times

When I didn't question if I'm
In the place that fate with signs
Led me to. Or like many do
Am I lost where you can't find

A lost in found, lost in frowns
Can't find what I lost, no solid ground
Where you say fake smiles are around
And hate it. Only to realize that now

You do the same, another clown
Who seems anything but profound
I use to be royalty. Had loyalty,
but somewhere it all crashed down

So in my Burger King crown
And my throne, built with a stapler
Made of cardboard, matching my scepter Made of
that hallow cardboard tube you get from wrapping paper

You wrap Xmas gifts with,,
and if you Wonder what the paper was used for
It was used by the me in my past, high off his ***.
Who wrapped up my future

And inside was a dead end job,
Sobriety, and some ****
So when life ***** me, I can be lucky
And slap it on my rusty, ... Well you....

Get the picture. And if it sounds familiar
Or not. But still feel a spot
Inside that you tried filling with ***
An unfillable void, u avoid, but can't stop

Feeling it, when you stop. And got
A moment to yourself
I hope this consolation, for the constellations,
not aligning, is a help

Cause I write this, to get it out,
But I post it publicly, for those at home
Who feel the emptiness. When the phone isn't ringing ....
Your not alone

In being alone, which sounds
Like another of life's contradiction
But contradiction is a literary term,
Almost as if to give u a vision

Of poeticness. Where mine is given,
But the give of irony can be fun
Leaving only humor, left for the tumor
That teaches us, that when the sun

Is out. Not not to take it for granted
So I circle back to my son
And I'm sure, that if still unsecure or
Unsure, whenever this poem Is done

Maybe it's time to train your brain,
To regain a perception, that we
Inadvertently trained it to ignore, in horror
Witnessing what wasn't meant to be

And find solace in all or it ...
I know, I sound like a clicheè
Like a cheesy, hallmark card,
that makes you wish, the author had aids

Ok.. Not aids ... But ******, or something
Now I sound like a *****,
But sometimes I see public display of affection
from couples, and I think

You ******* PPL MAKE ME SICK
Wait... I can't be bitter

And you shouldn't be either ..
I know it's easier that it sounds
When robin Williams committed suicide
I swear i couldn't help drown

In thoughts. Of how, somebody, so famed  And Loved,
would want to die
which means there's no chance for me..
But logically, it proves that inside

We all have that void. Annoyed,
Wanting it to just fuvk off
But the hard part in life is concentrating on.
What we have. And not, .... the have nots

And remember what you forgot..,
The annoying, overbearing, ones who
Actually do care, about you, are priceless
And trust me, if you have one too,

A mother. Who tries to smother,
so u run For cover and don't visit
Are the ones you give away, on the days
You rather be Alone to pivot

In worthless worries, only to revisit
The same pain, u feed as you fear it
And as I write this I'm rolling my ****** Eyes too,
cuz nobody wants to hear it

But the truth is *****, just like ur mom
But in end it's the only honesty
Left in a life full of broken dreams and fake smiles
toco-sign the promising

Promises no one kept,
when they said "I love you" or I'll never leave
So I'll try to take my own cheesy advice 
 Left in this poem if u do the same for me

So I gift this to you. And my future self
As well, and I can only hope he
Takes the message inside and abide, or try ...
And Remember,lastly, when coping

That just because your lonely,
It doesn't mean your alone ...
Just because your lonely doesn't mean your alone ...
For u.. I wrote this poem ...
Emmatell Jul 2014
That favorite boy of hers, mumbles her name out in the unsecure no-one sorrounding him. They would touch art and share galaxies and laugh until the dawn. She invested her time in him, and vice versa did he invest his time in her. It turned out though, that the odds were dry and not she, nor him, planned to water them. So she got herself a pretty little fiancé; a man capable of nothing but air kisses. He wasn't meant to be, but they were. While the fiancé was far away, she would cut her peonies and make her skin look like shallow marble and braid her hair. All day, every day. But only until dawn, where that favorite boy of hers, would rip of her silk shirt and draw lines between her freckles with his bare hands. Her shaking and pale body would greet everyone she thought was nice - none of them were. All they wanted was to demand her generation to touch their chosen ones and no one else in their entire city. It was tragic, grasped the lady at the hairsaloon, while she was extending peoples illusion of youth.

— The End —