#host
Sometimes I feel so empty inside, and it makes me want to delve deep within myself and hide.
Most days I want to cry, but every single day I try, to repair my heart and soul till I make it whole.
To replace what has died only makes me feel alive, to feel better in life, to progress and strive.
Still sometimes I feel empty inside, like the ocean at low tide, when I've lost my dignity and pride,
On love and happiness I rely.
A piece of me gone, and search for it I might, every night to be filled with just a bit of light.
Jan 25, 2022
Jan 25, 2022 at 11:14 AM UTC
With the ****** Virus,
continuing it's Live Concert
on Earth
and Hell stacked,
with all Our Devil's.
I for One,
am keeping My Fingers crossed
and Praying........
that Heaven will Host Me
on their Premises.
Jun 18, 2020
Jun 18, 2020 at 1:01 PM UTC
You know you are a parasite
But I will let you feed off of me
Sometimes I desire the poison
And a little dose is healthy now and then
Because what I have is also yours
And I live for you, I eat for you, I survive for you
Your primary host
They say you will destroy me from the inside out
But I lured you in, I consciously made you part of me
You did not come uninvited, and that is the point
You came willingly
So I feed myself you as you nourish yourself through me
A symbiotic relationship
For I do not go where I am not wanted
Through good and bad times we (d)evolve together
A true matrimony
Now forever covalently bonded
May 3, 2019
May 3, 2019 at 2:38 AM UTC
We meet at the Museum
hours after it has closed
Dressed - Impress
- Costume ;
All of our Art exposed
We'll feast upon The Security
the mousetrap
and The Ghost
We'll chew upon the wiring
We're the party
guests
and host
- a child in love
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 7:45 PM UTC
Is this evolution we call—
Ppl becoming things
(so that)
things become of people;
Ppl becoming parts
(so that)
parts come tgt to
become people—?
Is that not what
all there is to life...
An act
(of)
parts masquerading as wholes
as hosts mastering over themselves
as us
at the center of this all
is the substance of reverie
;
at the core of this bawl
is the call of life.
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
Xenia stands for
Guest and stranger, why did we
Separate kindness
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 7:32 PM UTC
consume
rot
the parasite
and the host
eat, eat
feast on decay
eat, eat, eat
i'll feed you, parasite
eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, eat
consume me
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 8:28 PM UTC
Who knew that there was a society of writers
Blind authors, who embrace one another
Hello poetry a bank of words mounted on a site for all to see
Hidden truths in words so powerful, emotions expressed like a waterfall
Hello Poetry to some it is a remedy
to others its pure therapy
Hello Poetry a book for all to see
tears shed full of empathy simple words fill spaces that are empty
These words I display would of been buried with me
But this place allowed me to fornicate with these metaphors
and birth words so beautiful,
these words now live in the minds of readers and silent poetry lovers
As you read my expressed emotions
remember that Hello Poetry let me nurture my emotions
before letting you see a part of me no one has ever seen
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 6:41 PM UTC
Under the mantle of this world
The thickness of the storm clouds
Perpetual, thorough
Meeting the foam crest of the waves
Dark enough to hide intentions
Walking along the tired rocky shore
A stretch common, tasteless to all but the vaguest sense
Some spray, felt deep along the sides of the tongue
The sobering corpse, I found
Still clawing at the stones
I can feel the tears well in my eyes
There is nothing I can do
Empathetic thoughts blow through my mind
Cold strains of tainted breath
His voice is cold air, so dissimilar
And with every trace of dogma
Such overused platitudes
Yet I hold fast to that stringent emotion
He knows me
He knows what I used to be, and what brought me to who I am
I watch him
He tries to pry, bone exposed at the fingertips
Why did this come to me
Remorse
Filled with pity, I bend down
I comfort him
The host burst
And now I feel it
Moving though the back of my skull
It's tendrils become rooted
The eyes see though my own
And it swallows what It will
The desperate remains inside me scream at it
But it's just rotten flesh
And there's nothing left for me
Now and forever
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 12:41 AM UTC
i'd prayed for the Holy Ghost more times than most
engrossed in the idea religion was some signpost
...waiting for Mary's face on my own toast
i lost all hope when I saw the demon host
rising hellish from their infernal roast
i just wish someone had, to me, disclosed
that there's no such thing as ghosts
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 12:35 AM UTC
This is the body
Of Christ, said Sister
James; I hold it now
Between fingers like
A sacred gem. My
Mother doubted the
Essence, said it was
Just bread, that any
More was just notions
In my childish head.
I feel the crispness,
See the whiteness, sense
The hidden Christ with
In the host. Father
Would hold his before
His eyes, then kiss it
Softly before he
Placed it in his mouth
And closing his eyes.
Mother said it was
All a magic trick
And a cartful of
Lies. I place the Christ
Upon my tongue, let
His presence be felt,
Sensing through the nerves
Of my being, His
Sacrifice, His pain
And hurt, His cruel
Crucifixion and
High resurrection
(Mother said it was
All fancy fiction)
Coming together
On my fleshy tongue,
Dissolving there, then
Gone, entering me,
Fulfilling, being
There, lifting me up,
To be, to love, to
Share. Mother would say,
Doubt it if you dare,
It’s just a sham, just
A con. When she was
Dying, ridden with
Cancer, I saw Christ
By her bedside sit,
Looking sadly on.
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 4:47 PM UTC
Cut my conscious believing
Feed me to the sharks
But don't give them my heart
Give me peace of mind
Let my soul rest in the clutches of a forbidden dinesty
I'll invite you over
I'll be the perfect host
I'll give you such a good time
You'll be left hanging on the edge
Better not fall!
Watch your step from the very moment you enter.
I do care about you to a certain extent
I have long died
So I've watch your life from a distance
Nothing truly captivating,but you're the perfect specimen
One I can devour
You seem so weak and fragile though
I'll be bold while I indulge in your poor soul
I'm no grim reaper
I'm the perfect host ******
And I just won't enjoy your flesh as much as I'll enjoy your delicate soul.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 3:00 PM UTC
My "job" at school isn't important,
But its more important than most,
I do what others refuse too, who can't,
I don't take orders from the Host.
The Host makes girls spread rumours.
The Host makes girls fight.
The Host tries to make me do humour.
But the Host can't make me do anything,
Much to my delight!
I was meant to be a messenger,
The simplest of my type,
I still am with gears turning and stirring
But I was fitted with too much hype.
They can't really blame me for silly things,
Or when things go wrong,
The can try blame me for spreading my wings,
But this position just feels so wrong...
I was simply meant to be messenger,
But know I'm like a ghost,
I'll trundle down these hallways,
Always defying the Host...
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
Sometimes I look down at my hands and I realize that I do not know who is controlling them. I do not feel like I'm me, when I look in the mirror there's always a voice in the back of my head convincing me that what I am seeing is not really there, that I am not in fact the being staring back at me. My hands are not my hands, my legs are not my legs, and my face isn't my face. It's like I'm living, but through someone else. But I don't want to be someone else anymore, I want to be me. But who am I?
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 12:01 AM UTC
There's a mansion that I know
Where many people come and go
The owner invites visitors each day
Then entertains them, let them stay
The guests are happy, they feel good
There are many free clothes and foods
They celebrate a party each night
They eat and dance until the first light
Since all the guests are good people
They're not selfish nor ungrateful
They work for free, they clean each part
Love the place from the bottom of their hearts
But the owner turns into someone
Who doesn't understands who's a free man
He starts treating each guest like a child
There comes a time he acts so wild
The rumors spread to all the guests
They start to observe, make their quests
Each day one of them finds something
That makes him leave on the next morning
There's a mansion that I know
Where many people come and go
Each door has a secret to unfold
Will you come to that place to find a gold?
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 8:51 AM UTC
A darkened bar
An old guitar
A stage that once played host
To all the Delta greats and now
to Robert Johnson's Ghost
An old man
His spitting can
A boy from up the coast
Learning how to play the blues
In the home of Johnson's Ghost
You gotta feel the music boy
You sure don't feel too much
Your fingers skipping half the notes
You're playing double dutch
Slide it, let the music meld
That's what folks all want the most
You got to feel it, yes sirree
Like Robert Johnson's Ghost
Five hours passed
Time went fast
But what he learned the most
Was feel the notes
That were wrote
By Robert Johnson's Ghost
The spirit has to fill you
You have to suffer for the blues
You can't come in and play for us
In shiny, brand new shoes
The old man
his spitting can
Made the young boy cry
He played the notes
That Johnson wrote
on the day that Johnson died
Until you feel the music boy
And stop playing double dutch
You got to slide the fingers son
Don't use the guitar as a crutch
Remember where you're playing
And to who it still plays host
You're playing for the netherworld
And Robert Johnson's Ghost
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 4:59 PM UTC
I thought life was a feast
a banquet to sit at and enjoy
but the variety was so small
the feast - fast food instead
I've had my fill
don't want to upset the Host
so I nibble on
But I've had my fill...
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 4:23 AM UTC
I get the crust and the gristle of a thistle once a missile shooting out into the sky and I cry, wonder why. Never sure what I feel for the meal of a deal and then words more like air slip the breeze in my hair, butterflies in the skies killing what kept my alive. Oh too bad, well how sad, if the songs last lines din't matter it'd harm, it'd make the soul so very mad. Here I fall, there I stand like a robot dancing to the tunes. It's demand. Hear I laugh, hear I cry. I hear the screams and feel the burn, so why? Why unsure, of what's telling me my life is so impure. Threatened heart, from the strings that wrap it, tearing it apart. Feel the clench of a bundle of what you yourself have drench and so benched. And you threw to me the horror show, I never so have thought would reckon me to be. I, to be, it's master and it's longing family, here I cry. Hear "I" cry. For I exist in heart, but never, not in mind. There I stand once again as a memory of all that I pretend. If I tried, to be real, the pieces fall apart inside. So I hide, then I quiver and I shake as 'me' is inside. I can touch to the shelter covered in the unbelieving, underachieving to be who I know I am to be. Or at least what you see. I crush the old me and start anew, though I grew. I, immortal to myself have stomped the true. And I become something greater than simple little shrew. Do not lie! For I see with one eye, the look through me. What you see is a host, not the ghost, that lives on. "Awh, look at me. I'm so strong!" Laugh along. Child there. Where? Oops, forgot to care. Now I stare, towards the end that's never ending like this script. Never ending. Twist and bending. Don't kid me, I'm no kid. I'm the body of a youth, but I am dead. I've destroyed myself, if others didn't do a perfect job. Hold up stop! I'm letting go, a bubble that will pop. It will burst, destroying me, if it doesn't **** me first. Here I stand. Hear I cry. There I go. I have died.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 1:09 PM UTC
Sleep.
Sleep child,
til' the light overpowers the darkness inside,
where I secretly cried.
I secretly tried,
but no one would guess,
and I never put my cards face up.
It's only ketchup.
Used to patch up,
the cut and scratch ups,
caused by the dull
of my pencil,
and my soul.
I fell,
but I dragged myself up again,
back into my daily skin,
and I'm that burden.
That one whose not fully there,
told by everyone, "you just don't care",
with a random shudder scare.
The words I despise you all think,
even the shrink,
and it drowns me to the sink.
I'm that disaster,
everyone's after,
maniacal laughter.
"Am I losing my mind?"
"Is this mind really mine?"
"Would dying be fine?"
I'm not so refined :)
I can see the things in perfect imagery,
things I don't want to see,
always worried everyone hates me.
I can't see,
I'm not me,
I'm not even a somebody.
Maybe inside is some other ghost,
I'm the host,
at my death let's just have a toast.
Til' death do we part,
take it as a new start,
buy the roses to my grave from walmart.
I didn't think I mattered anyways,
sleeping through these pass-me-by days,
my mind playing simon says.
I always secretly try,
but I am still I,
and now simon says ".....goodbye."
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC