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Beseeching words
genuinely rooted from
the wounded, rotten heart

to the cold, thin air of
"I have nothing left to say---"
Thank you for putting up with me. For teaching me to make peace with my demon; not to get rid of it.
Remembrances of Wounded Knee

It was a beautiful dream
that ended in the silence
of the dead laying
huddled and scattered
upon the winter ground.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2021
JA Perkins Jan 1
..bathing in
lavish luxury,
steeped to our
necks with waste -
defending sinking
sand castles and
casting stones
through cyberspace..
We have a chance
From: Wound Wings
Tony Tweedy Dec 2020
I remember how it felt and every dark and angry pain,
the feeling of tender soreness from every ache and throbbing sprain.

I remember ruptured internals and the fire of an appendix burst,
and the excruciating agony at every touch that was loudly cursed.

I remember the touch of many physical pains that left me feeling sore,
But nothing hurts so much as that last time you left my door.
Some wounds just refuse to heal and some pain never abates.
Norbert Tasev Nov 2020
How was it before? The budding scent-universe of roses chased him to Death: a petal-crushing allure, a flirtatious Reality that not even a fallen child-minded man can escape? Because love and forbidden Stars abraded in human hearts! The puzzle is ready! That's why he had to go to the depths of hell! The hungry and wild **** of greedy cannibals is all to possess on this earth! Wounded Man do not sell yourself at any cost!
Whoever has just come to live and prosper in this region will be expelled from themselves, chased away immediately! The enviable evil itself lacks the human-building lava stone, and the nose of the uncontrollable Sisyphean stone rumbles equally out of the Redeemer. - A deliberate Hermit-Orpheus who has moved away from the world: he is afraid of you here - more laurel merits can hardly be created, because the deserved Success has become salable, so everyone is determined to be down!
Cocktail-rucis grins the smiley little girl's role with a chirping little mouth-smile and the universal devil of Idiotism conquers everywhere! - I slip into my evenings with a crouching shadow with invisible and intentional intentions; I can't let a brain-numbing, vile laziness guide me by the hand - when so much is still waiting for me as all possible care and counting on me! "Wolves have long been shed in sheepskin and sold by so many themselves." Oh, you unfortunate, deceived apostate! At least you can still do the sacred light of the wisdom of your mind, don't make a mess!
As a Prophet with a stubborn ****, throw two on your feet and convince yourself to remain a Man forever
annh Oct 2020
They speak to the madman,
Suppression, subversion, detraction,
A vocabulary of ‘less than’.

They speak to the madman,
To the loveless and the wounded,
The self-doubting ego.

They speak to the madman,
A consort of shadows,
Recurrent with paradox.

Until, uncertain as to the integrity of my own thoughts,
Understudied by self-censure and distrust,
I pause to listen in the silence which listens back.

‘My friend, I am not what I seem. Seeming is but a garment I wear — a care-woven garment that protects me from thy questionings and thee from my negligence. The "I" in me, my friend, dwells in the house of silence, and therein it shall remain for ever more, unperceived, unapproachable.’
- Khalil Gibran, The Madman
poemsbyothers Aug 2020
wounded heart

punctured heart, pinhole big,
pain rushes in, as loves leaks out
nature abhors a vacuum

a wounded heart
has both rights and wrongs
our wrongs, were all ill timed,
our rights, never strong enough...

now they want surgery, a transplant,
denial tho my first line of defense, can’t,
because even this imperfect heart is
the only one that loved her, albeit imperfectly,
and that, that is better than a new heart that
never knew the meaning of love for her!
this poem, my first, is my authorship.  Those that follow, the preponderance, will be by others.
Respect Copyright!
once i was a hunter
now i"m the prey
surrounded by traitors
coloured with grey
filled with cries
even the rivers are salty here
i'm with dark allies
searching light with fear
bad vibe, bad envirnonment,whipping life
Norbert Tasev May 2020
I wake up, I wake up, and only in the morning do I regret the nights leaving in silence, the screaming ravens wisely watching the hellishness of owls as they warn of the vulnerability of Existence! And I have to look enviously at how I smile and shine at the rays of the bombarding sunbeam on my face: Even the natural antidote to a hangover! I must be up in the face of a radiant radiance, a bitterly wrinkled World, and in it the compromising Man who proclaimed himself a wise man who knows all things!

And suddenly in my heart the executed despair, the ongoing anger, the instinct itself move: Eternity every day without an immortal sweetheart - and meanwhile even those with cowardly ant-zeal live on the ground with me! - Man always asks for things, favors, and obligations: he deserves more, and yet less than he deserves.

your own morals are worth it! Man, as a free prey projected on a truly humiliated Adam costume, is forced to face death, gnashing his teeth. The defeated thread of its existence can soon be cut off by the molecular organism of mortal biologies! - Thinking through connections perpetuates everyone - and we don't know the true meaning: Whether they were determined in our case by superior "powers, executioners"

"And as dying grains of dust, they become one with the tears that wounded our face, which was destroyed in mourning!" - The nothing that is permanently destroyed, isn't it approaching ?! "You are cracking yawning bones there, that there used to be an eternal bang!"
Norbert Tasev May 2020
Chain-eyed heroes served in an ore-shaped cliff socket: aggastyan wages are served, silently in the immortality of time. They preserve their past by listening to their vision of Theiresias. Lightnings also stand on time-worn wounded ridges, prophets of loneliness stand: Iris soares to indefinite heights With the meaning of Icarus, the thinking consciousness: It never gives up!

All the pounding noises are their murmurs, a majestic, terrifying revelation: Below the diminishing feet of the mountains stands an unfortunate village infested with its envy-morsel, - he utteres the smallness of Jericho aloud! The disgusted putts here like the killer spikes of bitterness

the illusory ideals, the illuminating morals, - the candlesticks of goodness are now shining less frequently here - the total attack of the killer-throated wolves that have ruined everything and everyone here - the Apocalypse is at home here and we are slowly recovering ourselves. - In an ore-hearted spine socket, silent truths are swept under the fluff of carpets, - beyond the wounded distant sky there is a stretched soaring golden dragon rocket lights. In the pure, unshakable bastions of silence, only the eternal human laws can be left to him alone: ​​Fear reigns at the knocking beats of heartbeats fear vulnerable personality consciousness

on his troubled, misunderstanding day he devours several times, a distorted mirage, the Peace of Appearance shines, if the wounded, pure-hearts do not do it! - In a granite socket, only they can be unbreakable septa, rock pipes that expropriate land: It crumples, whips the groove section of muscle chains and is not spared daily by the moody moody, raging natural disaster!
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