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Having only one will, my own,
under my contrary efforting control

- ready, eh, willing, able
- to relate reported anomolous
- activity associating abnormality
- right as opposed to wrong,
- straight up… on center, set

my will leaves me be at ease,
comforted on purpose, please

-- ashes, ashes, we all fall down,
laughing like innocents of death,
unafraid of ancient plagues--

easy laughing, nothing missing,
nothing broken, selah, shalom

my will leaves me be at ease,
comforted on purpose, pleased

from living, progressed toward
certain acceptedness, believed
for us all, we who happened
to learn to discern may or per
haps, events
in ality, re- or uni-
versal,
always
sung
whole so, still holy
version, pace, mentally occupied
minding my own business, mine,
in deed,
confident
whole so, still holy
versus, pace, mentally occupied
minding my own business, mine,
in deed,
confident
of original innocent plea
as a man in final hours, in fact,
actually passing at standard speed,
of mind many magnitudes faster
than everyday star generated light, in
constancy, professed impressively, as
E= Mass, that material gravity loves,
all massively evident according
to some theory squared away
in which all we may think or ask
is sorted and shaped, actually
into all that now is mortally
stable, set, fixed on course,
in balance and relevant
of course to us, as we

are in the whole of it.

We took the time at face value.
Spent it on an extra minute added after it was too late
In a mood, recollecting times I heard the same music, in a different century.
It'd seem won, once heard from first inspiration
I'll be the flower in your garden
Golden mustard yellow ones
So rich. warm and soft
Like the sun with a blanket on

Nature is a gift.
I saw a pretty picture
Kai Jun 9
“aficionado artiste”
“compassionate creative”
“enlightened erudite”
“siren singer”
these pearls that spill from your lips…
of course they do, clam that you are.
haven’t you seen Me? a poised performer, strung pearls over every joint
My neck, My wrists, My ankles, My waist—
all the places where bones settle and dust gathers
“heavy is the head that wears the crown,”
but Mine is wrapped in threaded pearl
heavy is the body in the brocade robes,
but Mine floats in tangled pearl

would I swallow pearl, I would sink and drown
but in this pearled net, I cascade in the wake, pulled along

“forgiving friend”
“irreplaceable idealist”
“reinvigorating rarity”
“enigmatic exemplar”
these pearls that fall from your fingers…
of course they do, shuck that you are.
haven’t you seen Me? I glisten, adorned and tangled in pearls.
I must be the most glimmering thing your piteous eyes can witness
with your mangled flesh and shattered shell!

my flesh? i have no flesh.
I became pearl long ago,
but the memory of flesh ensnares me.
i cultivated every single pearl with my own flesh.
i forced them into your mouths, hoping you would swallow them for me
praying you would sink for me
watching you drown for Me—
oh, won’t you drown with me?
swallow my pearls and sink to me,
and pull me back to the surface?
(caught in a net of pearl like this, how can i swim?)
(that body drowned long ago)

if you don’t drown in these lonely depths,
wind these threads around a hook
and pull this empty, pearl-embedded net through the wake.
my flesh is long sunken,
but I can still make your boat beautiful
oh, how do i try to summarize the thoughts behind this poem? it’s some mixture of golden child syndrome, a numbness to compliments, and the resignation that i may never be known by anyone— not even myself. i often fear i have lost the ability to know who i am, and this identity of mine is an empty performance for an audience of one.

it’s not difficult for me to admit that my self worth stems from my capability. this is only because i know my self-awareness ends up making me more charming. but if i say it bluntly like this, my arrogance will reveal itself, won’t it?

is it arrogance if i’m objectively correct? i ask myself this question often. i keep re-evaluating to make sure my outlook on everything is correct, and i am always brought to the same conclusion: i am undeniably an impressive and unique person, from an objective standpoint. of course, there are many impressive and unique people in this world. i have the great fortune of knowing some of them. i know i’m no rare gem, but merely a pearl like the many others.

so is this arrogance? or humbleness?
Sam S Apr 7
They say there’s a ghost in the pond.
Big as a dog, orange like fire,
wears a face that’s not its own…
a mask of stone and fury.

But it’s no ghost.
It’s a goldfish.
One they flushed,
or forgot,
or never believed in
when it was small.

It lived in glass.
Fed crumbs of care.
Until the world cracked open,
and water poured wide.
The fish swam free…
and became itself.

Now it rules the pond.
Not with teeth,
but with power.

The koi step aside.
The shadows watch it pass.
Because this goldfish
learned how to grow.

Not a ghost.
Not a warning.
Just a goldfish
who outgrew
everything they gave him.
Ruheen Mar 12
There is a man in my closet
He comes out at night
Crawls over to my bed
Turns out every light

There is a man in my closet
He caresses my skin
Holds me gently
And the warmth seeps in

There is a man in my closet
He reaches into my throat
Fiddles around for hours
Just to pull out the day I was born

He howls with my mother
Sways in her tears
Weeps with my father
And it tells me it wasn't real

He rips it to shreds
Lets me watch the day fall apart
Says I made it all up
Because I can't stand the dark

The man in my closet
Doesn't like to imagine
A world without me
But wonders what would happen

If I didn't dream
Of smiling on a swing set
Or have the memory
Of hiding in my closet

Where I dreamt up the man
Who let me paint with words
Watched as I stepped out
And boldly touched the world

A time where I was pink
And every day was golden
When my hands would touch the ground
And somebody would still want to hold them

When I could stand atop a hill
And want to climb higher
The man would reach into his pocket
And pull out a ladder

But lately he retreats further
To a corner in my closet
With all the shame and guilt
He knows it's haunted

By painful apologies
Unnecessary remnants
Ones he wishes I would burn
So we could stop reminiscing

Again he reaches into my throat
Pulls out another day
One where I was lonely
One where I wish I had said

Please don't leave me
Please stay the way you are
Pink and golden
He'll catch you from afar

Now that dear man
Is only trying to keep me golden
Amidst all the clothes in my closet
For me, he'll fold them
The caress of honey is sweet
As it is deep within her,
Like the moon is golden
And deep within Summer skies,
With our love soothing
and intimate
As
Its
Candles
Sighs

Reynaldo Casison
Golden solitudes
In midnights of many stars and lovers
The jazz of moonlight

Reynaldo Casison
Golden lotus
Even when you Meditate
Just As You are
You're Pretty fine
Down to Earth
Casual
And
WithIn The Divine

Reynaldo Casison
If evidence is incrimination,
Then fleeting art is an exoneration.
Like pictures drawn in the sand,
Like lightning turning sand to glass;
As though a constellation were made from a man,
As though a mule became a golden ***.
zoe Jan 25
Shadows dance along walls
Cold, undulating fire
Threatens to suffocate
My thoughts,—I go on walks
Outside, the golden leaves
Know how to be better.

A dormant forest sees
Balance between forces,
Ever-changing seasons,
The purposeful movement
Of critters and giants.

Is the forest moral?
Wolves know moderation
Better than most of us.
My reason breaks:
Do humans still bother
With being good
These days?
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