#beetles - Hello Poetry

Date written: June 18, 2024 [email protected] Sacred Beetle By: Yisselakh Intro: The beetle climbs the wall of reality Rolling the sun into place, into the sky of dreams Verse: So the beetle rolls around the Sun Like in dust, our soul rolls around And they say we're guided by the stars Or is it our hearts Or is it our hearts Is it our hearts Bridge: Is this just poetry, is this just art Is it really the truth of what we are I'll never truly know You'll never truly know We'll never truly know Pre-Chorus: What the wise men say The fools will never follow If you say so if you say so That's how they always go That's how they always go Chorus: But when her heart of gold Shines warmly on your mold On countless fateful noons Your heart and your soul Your shell like sun upon the moon Post-Chorus: You'll know You'll know You'll know And you'll believe And you'll believe CODA Verse: So the beetle rolls around the Sun Like in dust, our soul rolls around Like they say we're guided by the stars And all of our hearts And all of our hearts All of our hearts

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Sep 10, 2024

Sep 10, 2024 at 3:37 PM UTC

SamLampyris

[Free to Use Lyrics] Reading Fabre's Entomology - 1. Scarab

Date written: June 18, 2024 [email protected] Sacred Beetle By: Yisselakh Intro: The beetle climbs the wall of reality Rolling the sun into place, into the sky of dreams Verse: So the beetle rolls around the Sun Like in dust, our soul rolls around And they say we're guided by the stars Or is it our hearts Or is it our hearts Is it our hearts Bridge: Is this just poetry, is this just art Is it really the truth of what we are I'll never truly know You'll never truly know We'll never truly know Pre-Chorus: What the wise men say The fools will never follow If you say so if you say so That's how they always go That's how they always go Chorus: But when her heart of gold Shines warmly on your mold On countless fateful noons Your heart and your soul Your shell like sun upon the moon Post-Chorus: You'll know You'll know You'll know And you'll believe And you'll believe CODA Verse: So the beetle rolls around the Sun Like in dust, our soul rolls around Like they say we're guided by the stars And all of our hearts And all of our hearts All of our hearts

45

in the worst oppressive nights breeding chafer beetles bead the trees outside the hospital they copulate in their hundreds of thousands what a release

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Aug 16, 2023

Aug 16, 2023 at 1:40 PM UTC

neth-jones

01 1

in the worst oppressive nights breeding chafer beetles bead the trees outside the hospital they copulate in their hundreds of thousands what a release

6

So, I’m no good at online dating / That is to say I do this to myself / After a couple days of messaging, a woman asks me to write her a poem / I see this as a good thing / We have a 97% match according to the algorithm / And she says she likes the beetles / And I say I don’t like typos / I tell her I will write her a poem / And I won’t give that poem to you because it was for her / I will tell you, it began with dung beetles / I waxed poetic about how they carry **** around for three things: / love / food / and a home. / Of course I don’t know that dung beetles experience romantic love / Or I don't know that / But I do know they stare at the stars / They are the only other animal on this planet we’ve found that does that / I wonder if they — too — get lost in fireflies / There is a place in Tennessee I haven’t been to yet / but my brother lives close by / and the fireflies there, they synchronize their lights while mating / I compare this to the planets lining up / How people assign such power and luck to small dots in the sky / How people assign luck to the dots on a lady bug’s back / How people assign luck to lady bugs / How lady bugs got their name and are perceived as a religious symbol / So are dung beetles / I’m sorry — they preferred the term scarabs / They used to push the sun across the sky / We used to give such power to such small things / And all they are doing is searching for is: / love / food / and a home. / The poem I send her is filled with Beatles references, too / Because I wanted her to know I actually knew what she was saying / Because all we need is love / Because all I really want to do is hold her hand / Because I'd just seen a face I can't forget / She doesn’t like the joke / Or the poem / Or me / Or I assume / because she never messages back / I still hope she finds those three things / Love / Food / and Home.

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Jan 3, 2020

Jan 3, 2020 at 2:49 AM UTC

cullendonohue

Love in a Time of Coleoptera

So, I’m no good at online dating / That is to say I do this to myself / After a couple days of messaging, a woman asks me to write her a poem / I see this as a good thing / We have a 97% match according to the algorithm / And she says she likes the beetles / And I say I don’t like typos / I tell her I will write her a poem / And I won’t give that poem to you because it was for her / I will tell you, it began with dung beetles / I waxed poetic about how they carry **** around for three things: / love / food / and a home. / Of course I don’t know that dung beetles experience romantic love / Or I don't know that / But I do know they stare at the stars / They are the only other animal on this planet we’ve found that does that / I wonder if they — too — get lost in fireflies / There is a place in Tennessee I haven’t been to yet / but my brother lives close by / and the fireflies there, they synchronize their lights while mating / I compare this to the planets lining up / How people assign such power and luck to small dots in the sky / How people assign luck to the dots on a lady bug’s back / How people assign luck to lady bugs / How lady bugs got their name and are perceived as a religious symbol / So are dung beetles / I’m sorry — they preferred the term scarabs / They used to push the sun across the sky / We used to give such power to such small things / And all they are doing is searching for is: / love / food / and a home. / The poem I send her is filled with Beatles references, too / Because I wanted her to know I actually knew what she was saying / Because all we need is love / Because all I really want to do is hold her hand / Because I'd just seen a face I can't forget / She doesn’t like the joke / Or the poem / Or me / Or I assume / because she never messages back / I still hope she finds those three things / Love / Food / and Home.

1

I feel as if Life has run me dry. Its vast Opportunity, my Inaction, consumed the last oasis Now they, dry bones Brittle hulls of beetles scuttle amid sameness We starve for color not dripping in red. Nothing much thrives In these hills

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Jun 30, 2019

Jun 30, 2019 at 10:13 AM UTC

ashKayeH

Desert Rose

I feel as if Life has run me dry. Its vast Opportunity, my Inaction, consumed the last oasis Now they, dry bones Brittle hulls of beetles scuttle amid sameness We starve for color not dripping in red. Nothing much thrives In these hills

14

you’re a sick, sick person my little, old love. with eyes like ferocious , angry beetles, you chew into me and cut out tiny, stinging holes. if only you knew i wasn’t invincible, if only you knew you were toxic. the cement is wet when you bash my head open, and the cement is still wet when it rains.

0

Sep 10, 2018

Sep 10, 2018 at 1:04 AM UTC

unlovedprincess

i can't wait until they realize that i'm still angry

you’re a sick, sick person my little, old love. with eyes like ferocious , angry beetles, you chew into me and cut out tiny, stinging holes. if only you knew i wasn’t invincible, if only you knew you were toxic. the cement is wet when you bash my head open, and the cement is still wet when it rains.

18

we leave the crumbs of our breakfast on the windowsill, where we can watch the ants arrive, and carry them away, to their hills at the base of the maple trees. they can't talk to us, but we can sense their tiny gratitudes. skin against skin, and tongues against tongues, the glow from our faces is just enough for the moths to recognize, for them to want to dance around our heads. they bask in the light of our love, and we know they feel it too. i live to see you smile, the kind of smile that shines so brightly, like the way a leaf beetle's shell does, when the sun decides to hit it in a way that's exactly right. they don't notice their iridescence, or how perfect they are.

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Aug 2, 2018

Aug 2, 2018 at 3:17 AM UTC

girlhaunted

this poem is about how much i love you and also how much i love bugs

we leave the crumbs of our breakfast on the windowsill, where we can watch the ants arrive, and carry them away, to their hills at the base of the maple trees. they can't talk to us, but we can sense their tiny gratitudes. skin against skin, and tongues against tongues, the glow from our faces is just enough for the moths to recognize, for them to want to dance around our heads. they bask in the light of our love, and we know they feel it too. i live to see you smile, the kind of smile that shines so brightly, like the way a leaf beetle's shell does, when the sun decides to hit it in a way that's exactly right. they don't notice their iridescence, or how perfect they are.

18

Brown beetles, shiny shells Embedded into my skin. Burrowing, these crawlers Find their home in my flesh. I tear away, in a frenzy For fear they'd make a stay But this twisted dream Ended, with the sunrise Yet, much to my demise, The itch, scratching, scuttling Many legs, swimming among All of me, an awful psychosis I feel the digging, controlling. Betrayed, I cannot trust where My own extension , begins And where insects end.

0

Jul 5, 2017

Jul 5, 2017 at 3:44 PM UTC

devin-ortiz

Infestation

Brown beetles, shiny shells Embedded into my skin. Burrowing, these crawlers Find their home in my flesh. I tear away, in a frenzy For fear they'd make a stay But this twisted dream Ended, with the sunrise Yet, much to my demise, The itch, scratching, scuttling Many legs, swimming among All of me, an awful psychosis I feel the digging, controlling. Betrayed, I cannot trust where My own extension , begins And where insects end.

16

All around the world The day comes of deep colours To rehearse things That are really trueful. I care about cradle of clouds Above my head Black beetles to show oppression Into their words When I am my everything, my friend. Celebration of friendship on the road Happy whether they help or not As the sky give an reflection as pure Then I will have a day of everything. By K-mari ©2016

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Sep 14, 2016

Sep 14, 2016 at 7:21 PM UTC

KAJ

A day of everything

All around the world The day comes of deep colours To rehearse things That are really trueful. I care about cradle of clouds Above my head Black beetles to show oppression Into their words When I am my everything, my friend. Celebration of friendship on the road Happy whether they help or not As the sky give an reflection as pure Then I will have a day of everything. By K-mari ©2016

14

< - - Housekeeping - - > Why is there no checklist for life? Can you say … recipe for disaster … If you’re planning to fail … … then you’re failing to plan I cut my teeth in a house where we could eat off the floor if we so desired The floor was either that clean or some other innate wisdom was built into that statement And I thought my inane wisdom came from ... Do you, don’t you want me to love you? #9 #9 Now somewhere in the Black Mountain Hills of Dakota **** Sadie you broke the rules Singing in the dead of night Obla-di Why don’t you stare into your own Glass Onion … Beatles (My head is spinning, ooh... Ha ha ha, ha ha ha, alight! I got blisters on my fingers!)

0

Sep 17, 2014

Sep 17, 2014 at 5:03 AM UTC

aaronmullin-fb

non incautus futuri

< - - Housekeeping - - > Why is there no checklist for life? Can you say … recipe for disaster … If you’re planning to fail … … then you’re failing to plan I cut my teeth in a house where we could eat off the floor if we so desired The floor was either that clean or some other innate wisdom was built into that statement And I thought my inane wisdom came from ... Do you, don’t you want me to love you? #9 #9 Now somewhere in the Black Mountain Hills of Dakota **** Sadie you broke the rules Singing in the dead of night Obla-di Why don’t you stare into your own Glass Onion … Beatles (My head is spinning, ooh... Ha ha ha, ha ha ha, alight! I got blisters on my fingers!)

19