Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
CH Gorrie Jul 2012
Yesterday folds our vital documents
into its briefcase and steps onto a busy street.
Busses lunge on asphalt, rolling
knotted muscles and emptied pockets deeper
into roads where dogs and paper
blur the lines between news and ****.
Lovers, condos, taxis, and sidewalks
pray to scrape up rent. Tomorrow crouches, ready to spring
and ****** us back into the boxing ring.

I sit at the Earth's end,
an old, fractured, water-worn dock
cradles me and fixes the scene.
Yellow sails swimming the jetstream
hang on to the red dinghy whose wake
sets my eye upon the far shore.

     Coney isle ‘cross the murk-warped sea
     holds ancient homes like a tapestry
     holds ancient threads that you can see
     in some museum for a fee.

For the residents at Rosses Point
this is no end –
                          wit starts their children’s dreams
and holds them to life,
roots them in communal grasses
that grow and will always grow.
                                                       I didn’t know
that where the ****-stalk masses
life’s abundances overflow.

But where are their riches?

Cast in ditches by roadsides
where three hundred years of smiles,
vein-pulsing beliefs, busy thinkers,
sweet upswept streets,
all put wealth –
                           the heaping of coin
upon coin till nothing can breathe –
aside and laugh. They live,
surviving as they happen.

Inside the crumbled watchtower
I fling passion onto thought
onto nerve onto pen onto page
and then am limp,
like the carelessly treaded sage:
a child’s footprint.

     What anguish did the watchers know
     looking through the barred stone walls,
     their travelers still gone?

In the swirling, swallowing night,
that drops like the judge’s gavel,
I write images of the sundry
numb-fingered seaside –
                                          the birds call through the salt-stained air.

Fly, fly till you reach my words
that are split among a thousand minds and cities.
Fly till the grass overcomes the tread,
till the sun succumbs to lead
poisoning and dawn’s jaw drops dead.

The lighthouse, the sprinkling showers
from the clouds that shroud and mask
the would-be sky, guide
the heart that falls inside my throat –
                                                                two hundred tons of blood
beat through its bulge –
                                         I’m alive
and live on, like this unhampered ground.
The sound of ripples and the rustle
of reeds bring me back
to the time-broken dock.

I sit and remember my friends –
                                                       calmness soaks in and through my bones –
I am and will always be;
and when memory fails and fades
I will float the channel of everything,
beach upon this shore
and will be the grass and nothing more,
till history becomes the future
and the first layer becomes the core.
Trevor Gates May 2013
Pearls falling
on the stone steps outside
Neon lights reflected
in the rain puddles
“Bang, Bang” Nancy Sinatra sang
“I shot you down…”
The music faded as I walked away
Movie posters lined the brick walls
Framed lovers embraced
One another
Between frozen portraits
Of atomic monsters
And art house flicks
While looking away at the box office girls
Slender and fixed
Up for the customers
And troubled youth;
Their tenacious allure
for a requiem
for the living
Cathedrals replaced by tower records
And Chinese restaurants
Withering, zealous loan sharks
Feasting on squished dreams
Licking their teeth with their tongues
Smacking against the laughter
Of festering sodomites and
Plastic-injected food
Basking in pools of molten gold
And sliced actors
I was in the middle of this
Me
Enforcing the invisible layer
Of success in the city of Angels
Where demons of entertainment
Pull the strings
Like Bela Lugosi said.
Moving through the Hollywood hotel
I hear moaning voices
Creaking beds
Loud televisions
Shouting and blaring beats
I open room 314
And walk in
The wallpaper peels like a corrosive blister
Mr. Poe sits at his desk
Waiting for me
He pours a drink
I abide
He passes me an envelope
I feel its thickness
I open it up and flip through
The bills, placing it in my inner pocket
I nod and swallow the bourbon
And leave
What pulp magazines tell you
Of the underbelly
The style, the glamour
The women, the one-liners
And thrills are replaced by
Shattered morals
Broken bones
***** stained stool pigeons
Slaughterfest racism
Taxi backseat *******
Where joints and blood
Spent napkins, clean the mess
Of the seats.
Through clubs and social abundances
I find coked-up fiends and producer hugging
Sycophants.
Laughing, smiling, drooling, kissing
Any who will profit
Able to get in line
To be the next big thing
On the silver screen
Or at the bottom of the sea
Under
Santa Monica pier
Watching the group of
Empty flattery, heartless groping
I follow and keep my distance
3 hours later
I knock on their fancy hotel suite
Just when the door unlocks
I push it through
And pull out my gun
They scream but they know
Who I am
And who I work for
I instill fear back into their
Comfortable lives.
They have debts
They own their luxury to to others
That was the price
They sold their souls and bodies for fame
And they will all eventually pay
I remind them what could happen
I shoot through the mirrors and glass
I pick one up and dangle them over the balcony
I find one member of the social party who does not belong
Who is not worth any thing
Who is expendable.
I grab that one and exercise my warning
My superior’s warnings
I bash his skull on the ikea coffee table
I pick up the vase of flowers by the side
I dump it all over him
I pick one white rose and
Dip it in the collecting blood
And watch it stain the flower
I lift it up and show it to the room
Still eyes and sweating faces look at it;
At me and what I represent:
A winning hand
A knock-out punch
Wrath personified
Callous, methodical, professional, indifferent
Mr. Libestraum is who I work for
Mr. Schyman is what I go by.
My point is made and I leave them with the body
I walk out and call my people
My part is done.
I walk out unnoticed and paid
Pay a vendor for coffee
Sit along the bench and wait for the sun to rise
On a new day.
And think back to what I was told when
I saw my first hit,
“Welcome To LA.”
Traveler Jun 2018
An abundance of life
In a cycle of death
How much living
Could we have left?

An abundance of stars
Displayed in the sky
Endless pleasures
On a summer's night
Hear and see
Touch and feel
The reality of existence
Consume at will

An abundance of love
To plant in our graves
Pushing up daisies
I wish we could stay
......
Traveler Tim
Seán Mac Falls May 2014
Whole world rejoices  .  .  .
Loam and leaf dancing today,
  .  .  .  Happy Mother's Day!
JDK Mar 2014
I've been thinking:
Maybe I should get clean
and do things that I've been meaning to do for ages.
Face this wasted use of
faithless self-abuse and try something new
more in tune with truth.
Get fit and quit these substances.
Toss off these over-abundances.
Catch some calm and put a halt to this being wild.
Stop forcing laughs and faking smiles.
Make a path to find some inner-peace.
Get some rest and set this mind at ease.
Patricia Drake Feb 2013
I am awed
Inspired
By samples
Examples of life
Emotion and truth
Condensed
Into universal moments
Or observations
Epiphanies
In a simple form
Using language
And metaphor
To carry abundances
Of images
Or rhymes
Without spilling
Meaning
Or drowning
The audience
In elaborative
Details
It’s shameful that people go hungry,
given the abundances of this planet.
And yet, there is more to life than food;
real sustenance that feed one’s spirit
should be given a higher priority.
Restraint of one’s flesh and earthly desires
can be more easily managed and contained
by the application of Godly principles.
Universal Truths satisfy the ravenous spirit
and provide the needed rest of one’s soul.
Operating under a spirit of ignorant fear
will never be a righteous way to live.
******* by possessions and things can be defeated
via the concept of “deferment of gratification”.
Biblical wisdom combined with Godly utterance
allows one to regularly and confidently speak…
against circumstance with divine authority.
Starving souls die from a lack of knowledge -
when not in pursuit of the heavenly kingdom.



Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
Heb 4:12-13; Matt 6:25-34; John 21:15-19

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Trees that are rising, with trunks fading to black,
Before you were woven from wood, now of the rocks that crack.
With you standing tall, and always the shade to rest my back.
From then til' today I could never repack,
All the sins, that you devour on track.
Since long I have not wronged by the stars of that song.
Maybe I should numb what was strong,
Because the silence of your breath becomes flat.

With leaves of wide shape and shining colour.
Reflecting the shadows and its silhouettes.
Home to different creature of its lore.
The furious, silent, and respectful.
Like the ever changing skins of your growing fruits.
From remedies, poisons, and delicacies just to fill.
Giving abundances of gifts but nonetheless it is you who takes it.

Time moves forward,
It is seen that yesterday is tomorrow,
The ebb and flow is very evident,
What was calm,
Turbulently testing today,
Gathering all its forces,
While throwing what is wasteful and foolish.
This is a rough translation for a poem in my native country's language.
Traveler Jul 2023
An abundance of life
In a cycle of death
How much living
Could we have left?

An abundance of stars
Displayed in the sky
Endless pleasures
On a summer's night
Hear and see
Touch and feel
The reality of existence
Consume at will

An abundance of love
To plant in our graves
Pushing up daisies
I wish we could stay
......
Traveler 🧳 Tim
Olivia Kent Nov 2014
The television screams at me.
Resembling a rabid  hound.
It's screaming and dribbling it's abundances of trash.
Swear, it's keeping me awake
Laying and listening to it's focus point.
Half in half out.
Eyes shut.
Body awake collides with sleep.
Rolling along night river.
The screen view stops.
A little blue.
Asleep.
Click.
The T.V.shut down activated with one disturbing bang.
Awake again....
Bah, shouldn't have set the timer to ruddy auto stop.
It did.
I didn't.
(C) Livvi
The time is now, against the tears,

to garner up the valor:

To stand against your deepest fears

within your darkest hour.

The time is now to fight the doubt

that resonates within:

The sweet escape, with no way out,

where tragedies begin.

The time is now to give away:

Abundances to share.

For, broken are the hearts today

of people in despair.

The time is now to fill your heart

for, what a tragedy:

to rise above, to do your part

and yet remain empty!
He picked his piece of heart up from the street
the one who broke it also had once made em feel complete
defeat ;
he swore to god that he would rise again
losing love for women , man , children , and his friends
pretend ;
that he wont overextend -
again ;
satan came close to unmend
his ends..
He sat along the side
piecing back together what was trust ;
his pride ;
the lies ;
they'v come to show you who is king again
life is like a circle
the cycle never ends -
No money is his pockets
he poured in her his soul
Only to be given
abundances of tolls..
For those men and women now silent
who stood in the cold night
To those who combed the deserts and those
who gave their lives
For those who fought shoulder to shoulder in fears and blood
And danced with death in chilling dawns
who froze in winters bitter breath

For those who laid in the trenches who whispered of peace
and muttered of hopes and home to be
Right nor wrong holds no place on this day,
For thee stepped up, for thee stepped forward
For those who chose to defend and those who didn’t this country I call home

── And we shall remember all of thee

For those men women and children who ran from bombs
For those who sat in air raid shelters huddled together
heads bowed in prayer who whimpered charred
and shook with fear
For the eyes that witnessed the fires
that consumed homes in its wake
The agonized violet waiting,
the smell of streaming fires and flesh across the skies
The piercing sirens and bombs exploding in the night
To those who carved out hardships and rations
To those who gave when there was none
For those who lay unnamed in silent graves
I give to thee all names on this dawn

── For without your lives given and taken I would have none.

To those who starved and were plagued in poor health,
I give thanks today for the medicines and hospitals
I thank thee for my life to sit in silence and for the abundances
For my choices to eat food and drink clean water
For the clear skies and this beautiful life.

── For my democratic rights were given to me

For the democracy to choose and for the freedom
And those who stand today shoulder to shoulder
Army, Navy, Air Force, and our four legged friends
“We Serve” in naming but a few

Starched on this day are uniforms, medals and buckles sparkling boots spit polished to gleam
For those now grey in repose in chairs and aided to stand to attention to salute comrades fallen

To the fallen thee died not in vain not through these eyes
Tis we who salutes each of thee in thanks on this day

── our day of Remembrance.

©ASPAR (A Sol Poet Arnay Rumens) 2017
Created for our men and women as well as four legged friends that fought overseas who saw more than pain and suffering than the lofty ideals of todays insane logic, and for the twits that think war is good. War is not a computer game!
Don Bouchard Dec 2020
Grief, catlike inward burrows,
Circles in some lonely spot,
Settles drearily to purr,
Content to rest upon my lot.

I shall not live with grief,
Nor grief hold me, for long,
For life is made for living,
And the living must move on.

The quickest route through grieving
I'm thinking I have found:
Accept the gift of thanking
Those who've circled me around.

Friends who share my sorrow
Don't force, "Seek brighter days."
They know perhaps tomorrow,
I'll raise my paean of praise.

For memories of loved ones,
Who showed me how to live,
For work and funds and sustenance,
Abundances for me to give.

For those who live around me
Host sadnesses, I know;
Because I've lived my miseries,
Others won’t suffer theirs alone.

For faith, for hope, for love abide
While this chest holdeth breath
To spark full joyful fire inside
And route the griefs of death.
Meditation upon Grief of the loss of my Mother
briannah rae Sep 2017
confidence.
it's something
i have so little of.
there are days
when i walk
the halls
with the confidence
of a celebrity
in a music video.
and there are other days
when i wish
i was invisible
because i'm just too
ugly to be looked at.

confidence.
it's something
i wish i had
in great abundances.
but i don't.
and i probably won't
for a long while.
31 Day Writing Challenge
Confidence
Beauty in natures green
Beauty in the trees
Flowers shape of this world so many secrets unseen
See the magnificent in the many small crawling creature
In others find the good
Multitude of valuable feature
Further and deeper to delve
See a lack at the helm
Driving the vessel to comfortable sea but with no real treasure of abundances
Use to the depths that cruise around not stopping for quality found however do see the joys in what is around
Perhaps a venture out is a must
Bathe in the crystal seas and lap up the waves the tropical plants scent the summers haze as we enjoy the play lain on sandy beach
Have to find the worth of confidence to reach
Grey Apr 2022
I forgive you…
It’s hurt so long, kept me awake for many nights.
This is not just meant for one person but all of those that I’ve held so much anger against for hurting me.
I forgive you,
I can’t be angry anymore I can’t hate anymore.
Maybe one day our paths will cross again, maybe one day we can be friends again.
All I know is that right now I forgive you and I hold nothing against you,
And if by chance you think of reaching out one day don’t be scared to,
I won’t turn you away instead I will be nothing but happy and glad that you did.
Until then or we never meet again,
I hope and pray all you’ve wished for and work for pays off.
I hope your dreams come true and your life is full of abundances beyond your measure.
I hope that you find the peace you’ve been searching for, I pray that your nights are no longer haunted by nightmares.
I hope one day you can forgive me too, for any and all I’ve ever done to hurt you.
There’s nothing I can say more than I am sorry for ever hurting you,
Maybe that was the reason I was hurt too.
I don’t really know,
Stay safe.
I love you, always will.
Universe Poems Sep 2023
I feel
I do
I don't chase
I love light
I speak in Yah's name
I see abundances for thee
I understand
My crown is nature and the land

© 2023 Carol Natasha Diviney
Gr8Ryzyngz Jan 2019
Storytelling to be accepted  
Well known, loved or even liked
Knew of the dearly departed well
Kept talking their wayz
Straight into the spit fyahz of hell
No earthly  water could quench
No human can tame abundances
Of their own demise
Living and dying by what lyez
Insides the windows and doors
To their own zoul'z trapping
By way of dropping mics
Katana sharpened doubled edges
Rearranging story lines
Piercing through the
Balderdash of wordy words
Divulging devilishly
Black or White, big or small
Embellishments or omitance
If it ain't the whole
And nothing but
Beloved WE far too old
To not know deceit lies in lies
Wagging  tounges
Taking our own Livez.
Speak to be listened to, Stop talking to be herd!!!
Lexa Apr 2020
Berries, bursting brilliantly with color, nature’s
perfect package, miniature, refreshing, oh so sweet,
staining away the grey, breathing life into the mundane.

Soaps, fancy shapes exploding with hidden gems, a gourmet feast
for the eyes and senses, ice cream for the skin,
nourishing the wounds of routine, soothing emotional pangs.

Essential oils, aromas wafting, bringing cheer and warmth
throughout the house.  Just a touch, merely a few drops, invisible
yet calming, nurturing.  Precisely like love.

My treasures may not hide behind large gates, protected
by a price tag, a dream but for a few, ostentatious,
dazzling, commanding oohs and aahs.

But my abundances light me up.  I glow amongst the stars.
A cherry on top, the icing on the cake,
an ambiance of royalty, these small luxuries create.

— The End —