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In the pasture of moonlit dreams
they sought the music and the seams
of realities caged by beams
of light hidden in a tomb of sins...

With brush
and pen
they strove
to awaken a long-lost friend

Humanity's aid, the devil's ruin,
a savior beyond what's worth pursuing,
for all are judged by saviors awakened
cast in iron
cage awaiting
time unwrought from plans abating
devil's deeds no longer
their yields and wicked whims
now dating
cobwebs conjured
by idleness, hungered
schemes distorted
abandoned plunder
salvation came to the sleeping world, hence
for the devil's slothfulness made pence
duplicity broke itself in twain
devils freed and angels made
war in heavenly realms abound
demonic trickery, no longer purchase found
light shone down from truth above
o'er horizon, burgeoning sun commanded its wake
cast its sight upon the world
devils expired as does smoke unfurled
as do shadows in all-consuming light, unmade
and what became of that world then?

When the sun may set, we shall learn again...
What darkness shrouds, we forget, so too the pain,
for what the light sears, the darkness cools,
and what the light frees, the darkness feeds,
what the light starves, the darkness protects,
what the light feeds, the darkness drains,
what the darkness drains, the light protects,
what the light protects, the darkness hungers,
what the darkness hungers, the light favors,
what the light favors, the darkness despises,
what the darkness despises, the light understands,
for well made plans cannot thrive in darkness alone,
if the light should reveal the plans to be tainted
the zenith of sun shall burn the plagues of satan...
This site has been unwell for me for years.
I had been plagued by a bug that makes publishing my poems impossible.

I wrote an incredible poem a year ago, and lost it, due to this site's lack of integrity and sabotage of me. I emailed this site's creator and never got a response about recovering my poem, which was so vital to me that I made the effort, alas. In vain.

I wrote this poem back on August 19th.

It was a refreshing read. I hope to experience many more healing readings, and writings, like this one has been for me today.
Kris Fireheart Feb 2019
I still remember,
That special first time.
I was young, and
I wanted to FIND.

I wanted to FEEL it,
That FREEDOM of mind,
Leave troubles

At first I felt nothing,
I asked my best friend;
He swore it was

But then, a tingle.
My mind filled with
MEMORIES, thoughts
Of the past.

I couldn't believe it;
So much; so fast!
No longer depressed,
I rose from the grass.  

I felt like a scholar,
Or philosopher of old.
I walked to our table
To tell what it showed.

Of course, they were laughing,
But I didn't mind,
I knew what I'd FOUND.
I'd seen the DIVINE.
This is a quick one about my love of cannabis. Enjoy
ShininGale Nov 2022
𝘖𝘩! 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦.
𝘠𝘦𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨.
𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘮, 𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺.
𝘚𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 -
𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘬.
Dedication to my Father in heavens, Who awaits for my return and Who guides and guard my swim, so that when I drown He will always saves me.
Ylzm Jul 2022
as in clouds so in words
many things seen and read
hiding keys affirming revelations
in the unseen and unspeakable
ardnaxela May 2022
living off
of apologies and time
spent in desperation
recollecting and reflecting
on where
all of the good vibes went
I may have smoked them.

underestimating my
of the situation
like I'm not
educated in protecting
my Peace
and healing my whole
mind, body
and Spirit

deflecting questions of
my integrity
because I prefer
complexity -
it takes me
three lefts
to make it right.

also some
I have to remind
that it's okay
to cry
boiling hot emotions
got this little black kettle
singing high

I'm choking
on the
hard pill
of a broken home
worse than a broken bone
this is admitting to myself
I could be traumatized.

I need a
get away
like Lenny says
quick break
with Mary, Garcia
and Vega
the only chance I ever get
to take flight.

in all Honesty
I am really
of people
pushing me
and pulling me.
college drop-outs
they think
they schooling me
they are
tools to me.
swing my way
with that hammer
I'm not
driving for that *****.

some say real
Love is
some say it's
I say it's both
you know
the winners
always leave with
a little
bruise .
or two . .
or3 . . .

there probably may come
a time of day
you have to choose
to lose
in this matrix
to fight
by your own rules
and well


is to you,
my Little Light
your presence is proof
that some
Love is
the right thing to do.
this started as a song.
Ylzm Dec 2021
May your year be measured
by revelations and not resolutions

May you see your uncountable gifts
than boastfully count meagre goals

May you on uncharted waters walk
than by uncertain stars fearfully chart

And may you in power compelled to fly
than all powers beseeched to comply
Anya Apr 2021
Most of what I wrote here is from two
or three years ago
Two years ago when I was the girl
who dripped anxiety like a leaky faucet
And poured all the excess into her poems
like little sticky notes detailing the confusions
and little joys of life

Now I'm still a confused, anxious girl
but maybe I can fake it better?

Or maybe I really have grown
So that I no longer need the multicolored sticky notes
Dotting my life
Where I can hold it in
or let it out more constructively

Is poetry not constructive?
Or is it my biases again
idk idk idk

I spoke to an old friend the other day
I have a poem about them
There's another girl I never speak to
but back when I wrote about her she was my friend

I don't know where I'm going
and these poems remind me where I've been

For that matter I don't know where I am
Not enough
Not where I should be
But yet has yet to arrive and
                             e              r                    
I'm rambling aren't I?
The gist of it is
I am somewhere else, not where I was
Nor am I where I should be where I want to be where I ought-
I have a poem about ought don't I?

For those of you who've actually made it to this point in the poem
I applaud you
Because I don't know where I'm going
or where I am
But my poetry seems to be showing me where I've been

Enough says the me that insists everything must be productive
There's no point
There's no point!
You're not a poet,
You're just a girl who is supposedly an adult
Ha ha
What a joke

Is the self deprecation necessary?
             Is it though?
                 Or is it simply a tool to hide my anxiety
                             under a blanket
Can't I just appreciate what I have? Who I am? But
I'm not good enough
            not nearly good enough

The other day I wrote a sorry essay
        apologizing for all my shortcomings

Don't get me wrong
I love my self                       You'd better too    love yourself that is   It's important
But                 I don't seem                              good                     enough


Yes, I verbally said the word sigh
I'm still rambling, aren't I?
Because I don't know where I'm going
nor where I am
But I do now know where I've been
      and I suppose it's just a matter of moving from there

I may take baby steps,
                 like a waddling penguin
But so long as I know where I've been
I can keep on moving
so that I can grow

One day my wings will open huge and wide
One day
One day I will no longer be that anxious little girl
One day
Why not today?
Because today's not that day
But, one
It'll happen
and if it doesn't...

I guess I'll still be chasing that one day
Because I don't know where I'm going
or even where I am
But I do know where I've been because I write about it in little sticky notes called poems
This started out as a reflection, it wandered around a bit, and it finally turned into a piece about the importance of poetry.
Samual Hidden Nov 2020
I lay with melancholy,
A emotion that is dark and unholy
Leaving you with a sense of dread
Almost wishing that you were dead.

It doesn't matter how hard you try
It seems you can't find the light
No matter what you do,
You always find yourself in the dead of night

You look in the mirror again,
Tears streaking your face,
Why cant i make amends
Instead of always having this chase

You play hard to get,
But you play to well,
You get forceful,
Only to beat yourself down.

You look at your past,
Your forced to see what you did
Like a knife to the heart,
Twisting and grinding.

You beg for mercy,
only to be denied by yourself
You beg for forgiveness,
Only to be beat down.

Don't you see.
This all starts with you.
As it must end the same.
Until you contend with yourself.
You shan't begin to contend with others.
Lest you be beat down twice.
Sally A Bayan Apr 2020
The sun has become harder to bear
this late April morning.....under
a perfect blue sky, the sun is bright as ever,
it slightly ****** the skin,
grass takes all the heat but is just as green
and still sways to the blowing wind...

we're showered with many tribulations,
bombarded with dim scenarios...revelations

of despondency, death, desperation,
......and of man's evil inclinations...

fear and confusion filter through holes
and tiniest crevices of grounds and walls,

we make do with small corners,
just to create spaces apart  from each other

we hear warnings...talks in apocalyptic
tones...we learn of events cataclysmic,

yet, we ignore earth's stormy winds and waves,
telling us.....begging us to change our ways.

we breathe, we can see, we have ears
clearly, we choose what to see and hear...
.........­.................Spring's sky is all over,
but, the lilt, the spring feeling, is nowhere


Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 5, 2020
(forget the beach, be safe on home shores
  lest you get the virus abhorred.)
Julian Delia Sep 2019
I will never have good financial standing.
My wallet must feel besieged,
Like the sacking of King’s Landing.
Money just flies through my fingers;
Like the angel of death,
Bankruptcy always looms and lingers.
I spend it on escapades and exuberance,
On journeys to escalate my studies of life,
To forbear nothing from its tutelage.

I will never have a peaceful, settled life;
No 2.3 kids, no doting, darling wife.
Neither will I have a Golden Retriever;
No picture-perfect moments,
No Instagram photo captioned ‘she’s a keeper.’
I will go the edges of the world;
I will unfurl hammocks, as the jungles get deeper,
As I hear the whispers of life,
And my ears strain to listen like receivers.

I don’t care about losing either of those prospects;
Uninteresting endeavours, uninspiring projects.
To me, only love deserves mourning;
It is the primer of all things,
The driver of all of nature’s calls,
The reason why the mockingbird sings.
That must be why my heart can’t stand the quiet,
Why I’m like a viral riot, an epidemic insurrection.
That must be why I’m mourning an unrequited connection.

You are everything I will never have.
I will have an empty heart, and empty hands.
If it never happens in this life,
I hope I’ll get to see you again in the next one.
This is the poem I wanted to be my hundredth one on this website. I love you, hello poetry community. Thank you for existing.
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