"alleviates" poems
Let me stifled by your scent
And drown in your sweet bitterness;
I'll let my heavy lids lay flat
As you take away my spirit
To where you call tranquil and calm.
As my tired shoulders fall gently,
I am filled with your warm caress
Along with nostalgic portraits
Frame by frame running in my head -
Ever vivid and enthralling.
The consoling embrace you give
Alleviates grief and its pang
Even just for a little while.
As I savor your poignant sting,
I can hear my heart as it sings,
"Sorry, but I just can't grow wings."
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 12:24 PM UTC
The gold that flows, through our elaborate veins,
The crop that is known, by many names,
The gift that alleviates, our daytime pains,
The commodity that plays, one too many games.
Our world is nothing, but a bottomless mine,
Simply waiting, for the wrath and plunder of humankind,
Oh labourers please, wait your spot in line,
For it was not you that made, this incredible find.
You’re a fool to think, the system needs a redesign,
For your fate and this chain, are forever intertwined.
Stay in your corner, as they wine and dine,
For it is you not them, contained by this chain’s bind.
Posing as a gift, that elevates their daily grind,
The brown gold is no longer, part of your bloodline,
It was their chains after all, that made this incredible find,
For it now flows away, from the Plateau’s skyline.
You continue to hope, for these chains to be redefined,
But to imagine you even exist to them, is asinine,
Yet you believe a consumer movement, would be so inclined,
For you forget that chains were made, to always confine.
Jul 27, 2019
Jul 27, 2019 at 3:55 AM UTC
My manner of thinking, so you say, cannot be approved.
Do you suppose I care? A poor fool indeed is he who adopts a manner of thinking for others! My manner of thinking stems straight from my considered reflections: it holds with my existence, with the way I am made. It is not in my power to alter it; and were it, I’d not do so. These manners of thinking you find fault with is my sole consolation in life; it alleviates all my sufferings in prison, it composes all my pleasures in the world outside; it is dearer to me than life itself. Not my manner of thinking but the manner of thinking of others has been the source of my unhappiness. The reasoning man who scorns the prejudices of simpletons necessarily becomes the enemy of simpletons; he must expect as much, and laugh at the inevitable. A traveler journeys along a fine road. It has been strewn with traps. He falls into one. Do you say it is the traveler's fault, or that of the scoundrel who lays the trap? If then, as you tell me are willing to restore my liberty if I am willing to pay for it by the sacrifice of my principles or my tastes, we may bid one another an eternal adieu, for rather than part with those, I would sacrifice a thousand lives and a thousand liberties, if I had them. These principals and these tastes, I am their fanatic adherent; and fanaticism in me is the product of persecutions I have endured from my tyrants. The longer they continue their vexations, the deeper they root my principles in my heart, and I openly declare that no one need talk to me of liberty if it is offered to me only in return for their destruction.
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 5:04 AM UTC
Although
alliteration
alleviates
all
affects
attributed to
anticipation,
it will still spill
faster from the quill
than assonance.
May 10, 2010
May 10, 2010 at 11:15 AM UTC
Everyone has a dark side
But there's no shadow without light
With you, the shadows of my heart subside
I wish to once more hold you tight
To again witness the beauty of your eyes
Eyes I could lose myself in, if time allowed
Eyes so blue, they rival the open skies
When I catch your gaze I'm instantly wowed
When I'm with you, pure ecstasy surges through my veins
Unsure if I'm dead or alive, in heaven or just dreaming
For the tenderness of your touch alleviates my pains
Your touch that tickles so much I feel like screaming!
At last, when it's time to part our ways
I hold your hand for as long as possible
Because the euphoria will soon die and leave me in a haze
If only I could defeat time, the unbeatable obstacle
So that our joy will never have to cease
However, all good things must come to an end
I know I can't stay, I need to release
And pray for a chance that I might see you again
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
1. I was outside shoveling horse **** considering the more **** I piled up, the less you'd deal with when you came home.
2. I woke up every night at 2, unfamiliar to having the bed all to myself, curled around a pillow like a buoy far from shore, sea sick in the choppy water, my vision reduced to abstract smudges. I focused on what must have been your silhouette as I gulped cups of salty water half a mile into the ocean, exhausted and drowning.
3. Medicinal marijuana alleviates anxiety. I won't swear on depression, I believe, there are four types of depression. Blue dreams are most desirable, every day for 8 months.
4. You've probably seen this desktop orb that captures electrical currents, so when you touch it with your fingers violet bolts ignite against your glass fingerprint. With this light, 2 a.m. I scoop the sandman's hash into my pipe so i can get some rest from my past who caught up to me a few days ago.
5. Dreamer. Heartbreaker. Deep thinker. No harm has come -- to--- you.
6. When it gets dark again, run baby run. Spin around with my eyes on his, reveal the wreck behind my lids, at the thought of losing him, not to another woman, but to Fate. Hold him tight. Make love like you mean it, not to **** but to tie two hearts together as they bleed. It's bloodstains on the white sheets, two people loved here like death sat by the dinner table, waiting on his appetizer.
7. The cruel morning illuminates his naked body as he slept. I cried because I didn't know if dreamed of pleasing me. Why did I let things I couldn't control worry me?
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC
These tears on my ****** skin,
Tears from your ****** sins,
Tears from the words that won’t leave my mind.
Tears from what lies behind.
Deep cuts from within,
Deep cuts on my skin,
Deep cuts down my wrist.
Life is so brisk,
I like the risk.
They say, 'Sticks and stones may break my bones,'
But they're the ones who always had homes.
'Words will never hurt me,'
So why won’t those words stop replaying in my head and let me be?
Deep cuts on my thighs,
Deep cuts from your lies,
Cuts from what I've realized:
People are evil in my eyes.
Your words tore my heart, and I my skin.
It’s the only thing that alleviates the pain.
I felt it cut into my soul.
I reflect what you have said—your sins on my skin.
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 8:00 PM UTC
The morning cigarette,
With a cup of igneous coffee,
On an early winter morning,
Alleviates the morning high,
Like the smoke from molten lava.
The immature ride to the vacant highway,
The zephyr gust from the near mountains,
Touches the juvenile jacket
And through the quietus of nature,
The wings inside sails away.
The green undertone of cannabis,
It's a rational sensation,
With every roll the paper silhouettes,
Like a shotgun of peace,
The buds displace on the white face.
The rejuvenating smoke calibrates,
Through the dry pipes,
And layers the ravenous soul,
Like a honey bee,
Pouring the golden sugar,
Into the barren depth of an empty bowl.
Like a centaur with tenacious wings,
Accelerating with the air,
Feeling every loop of a fresh wound,
Riding from north,
And taking the fear out,
Like a first raindrop to hit the ground.
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 2:21 AM UTC
We are the people we are
Far from the people we should be
Humor makes up the difference
In every uncomfortable instance
Humor I must know
To soften the blow
And make life enjoyable
Humor is always employable
Negativity carelessly creeps
From somewhere deep
I feel tragedy
Grabbing me
I must rhetorically escape
These problems will deflate
Once I receive a joke
After taking a ****
With familiar folks
We're all somewhat stand-up comedians
In front of our friends
The pros have no way of seeing them
So specificity we lend
It can be trite and true
Or bright and new
Curing the blues
To help get you through
To keep from constantly imagining
The endless amount of tragedy
I must have a sense of humor
To ignore the hectic rumors
Or the life ending tumors
Or the treacherous suitors
My only tools are words
And all my words are tools
Turning sages into fools
If they want to bring me down
My words can steal their crown
The albatross around my naked neck
Is my greatest source of comedy
Adding perspective to a stacked deck
Turning drama into Dramamine
Putting on a mask like Halloween
When the darkness follows me
Humor keeps me from wallowing
In my own self pity
I'd rather feel giddy
I hate myself so much sometimes
Humor can help remove that grime
Not getting rid of it completely
But not letting it cut so deeply
It's the only thing that can treat me
When life decides to beat me
I respond by feasting
On pain
And ******** out harmless humor
Which drains
The sensation of being a loser
That feeling you get when your friends laugh
That feeling you get when your friends clap
Like violent gunshots in the distance
Humor alleviates the agony of existence
Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 2:39 AM UTC
I walked into Walgreen’s that night
absorbed in my own little world.
Soon after entering,
I made my way to the line.
My eyes
d a n c e d
to the crescent-moon shaped scar
adorning the young clerk’s neck.
With the gentleman in front of me,
he spoke of
camouflage and machine guns.
Earlier times when he
could only see his
family through
the lens of
a
webcam.
When he first learned what it took
to be a man.
And when he learned what true loss
really felt like.
It’s my turn.
I step f o r w ard
and stare directly into his eyes
and wonder
how he ended up here.
His face doesn’t give away much,
he’s painted on a cordial smile
and the air between us seeps
with the remnants
of small talk.
But I can’t help wondering.
I wonder, if he knows
he’s more than he’s been told.
more than he’s settled for.
more than the orders he was commanded to obey.
more than the lines he was expected to cross.
more than the monster he had to become.
To survive.
I can’t help but wonder
how he’s ended up here.
Overseas— he’s ranked
but now that he’s home
on friendly soil, he’s thrown into department store
positions and temporary jobs.
I can only hope he’s better off than some of his friends
tossed into
psychiatrists offices.
But I wonder,
I wonder what memories might decide to plague his dreams.
While he tries to figure out
which pill alleviates which painful recollection.
Which part of his past will come back to haunt him today
and which of his friends lives will flash before his eyes while he tries to sleep.
Norepinephrine firing through his brain
like the gunshots he had to deliver.
The U.S government is so quick to draft,
but hasn’t learned how to welcome home.
They hide their veterans in the dark corners of psych wards,
allow them to get lost in the depths of their own minds,
while the PTSD
eats away whatever is left.
These men fight for countries who don’t know what to do with them afterwards.
What they both need to learn:
There is life after war.
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 4:21 PM UTC
collapse into the bed.
i love the hours we ****
the hours when our feet
forget the floor.
close your eyes.
pleasure centers and crazer neurons.
old soul music and moans.
****** asian neighbors and some televised war.
every sorrow dissipates,
every worry alleviates,
and every thought is silenced
by white knuckles grappling with skin.
May 3, 2010
May 3, 2010 at 7:20 PM UTC
I cannot reside in selflessness, nor can I reside in senselessness.
My pride alleviates both.
Dreams do not exist from my stand-point,
although I dream of escaping this place every day.
If only there were another way to build up a smiling facade.
Something I could conform to,
a small tent.
I sincerely do wish I could let somebody else take the blame.
I would watch in ignorant fascination as an anonymous culprit was raked and exploited.
People would yell,
"This is all your fault,"
As the accused one shrouded and shook,
"You couldn't save us!"
While I would watch in discreet glorification of it all;
Glorified with the fact I was no longer being burned at the stake.
Does this render me cruel?
Yes.
Aren't all children, though?
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 5:29 PM UTC
soporific and potent
it travels through the tunnels with crimson walls
inverse photos
and superflous words sewn together like grandmothers quilt
salt water drops and the wallet is empty
verbose phone conversations
and then
the brown door opens
and it alleviates
faint eyes peer at each other
and the air mixes together like sugar and flour
and it alleviates.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 5:00 PM UTC
In the incandescence of this empyrean nocturnal rhapsody
A remarkably rare yet, aureate creature appeared before me
From nightfall until daybreak she smoothly crooned an infinite array
Of enamorous symphonies to which I naturally could not abstain
A subtle spark of ardency was cast upon my sauntering pneuma
Inundating me into a catalepsy of which I zestfully fancied
Her charisma suckered me in with ease, illuminating my euphoria
Masquerading my pervasive mourning, cauterizing it to ashes
Each lyric alleviates the suffering that I have so hazardously acquired
Every note speaks to me in a language unknown to the community
The tasteful euphonies that perspire, carefully assuage my heart
I raised not a finger nor did I enunciate a single word or syllable
Her musical prowess completely squandered me with passion
Jauntily I danced to the cadence of the beat scouring my veins
Ceaselessly I could bathe in the essence of her bubbling sound waves
Never shall this finely crafted music pause, It shall remain on replay
Aug 27, 2011
Aug 27, 2011 at 1:21 PM UTC
Dear,
During our distressful dispersal,
Due to dismal dismissal on my defense,
Your dreary demeanour is decidedly
Distressful.
Earnestly,
I evince my emotions, expressing every
Effort to ebulliate my everything,
But ephemeral expulsion excommunicates me
Exceptionally.
Apathetic,
You arrive, always akin to antipathy,
Although any alacrity you attempt
Assiduously alleviates my alerting
Affliction.
Reconsider
This rejection, revile in my respect,
Rescinding no recompense for this respelendance.
Rejuvenate while I receive the rigour and
Reward,
Dear
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 9:56 PM UTC
This page frightens me
with its whiteness-
pale and interesting,
when words wind their way across it.
If ******* is written
backspace is the face of the future -
paradoxically speaking.
A rhyme is a sign
that on the next line
the metre should not peter
out.
Alliteration alleviates this
and block capitals
just simply SHOUT.
Jan 30, 2010
Jan 30, 2010 at 11:01 PM UTC
Hope alleviates;
Expectation desolates;
Choose wisely, my friend.
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 6:27 AM UTC
I want a love that is constant.
A love that is forgiving,
A love that is never forgotten.
A love that is simple.
A love, where I am not ashamed, or blamed.
A love that is unwavering,
A love that is never second best.
A love that is faithful.
All deserving of my love,
All deserving of my heart.
A love that alleviates pain and not to blame,
I want a love that is not ours.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 8:14 PM UTC
Twas under the brightest silver moon,
That I witnessed true perfection bloom--
Her hair like silken petals; her figure strong and proud--
And all this beauty blossomed five full months from June.
Just as frail as flowers, though, her splendor was painfully brief,
And, though many said I must move on, I could not contain my grief.
I could not bring myself to so easily sway!
I just did not have it in me to turn over a new leaf.
My mind's been a flutter with floating blossoms of her face.
A cloud of radiant spores I'm forever forced to chase.
This wasn't just a fish occupying a vast sea;
There were no other flowers that could occupy my shattered heart-vase.
And now her name's like perfume foreign to all other noses,
I've found a simple remedy that alleviates my pain.
But, as the garden of my heart festers and decomposes,
I feel a little better every time I burn the roses.
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
She slips into the trees
He trails after her
A shadow
As silent as the mist that saturates the morning
Her corn silk hair billows in the impish breeze
He snatches an airborne strand that has broken free
And swallows it
She seems to dance through the forest
Taking slow swaying steps
Hips swinging
Hands fluttering
Across every bush
And every tree
They are precious to her
He touches each in turn
They become precious to him
She stops beneath the dogwood tree
His heart lurches as she faces him
White petals float around her
Kissing her cheeks
Skimming across her clavicle
To pile at her feet
He watches her intently
As he takes calculated steps towards her
She seems only intrigued
When he stops but an inch from her
She ***** her head
She does not understand
The hunger in his eyes
The moisture on his lips
The heaviness of his breath
Or why she likes the molten fire
That has erupted in her stomach
He shakes as he reaches out
To touch this beguiling creature
No longer a shadow
And suddenly this frightens her
She backs against the tree
Its bark rough
Like his fingertips
He begins to cry
As he presses himself against her
And alleviates his ache
She begins to cry
As she kisses him
Again and again
She still does not understand
And mourns the loss
Of make-believe and pretend
Jan 30, 2012
Jan 30, 2012 at 7:30 PM UTC
I have this whole world that I want to share.
It doesn't sound like a lullaby but
Sometimes it feels like one.
Sometimes the sun sets at the perfect time and
Dawn begins to look like a rusty image of color.
It begins to set in and dissolve.
It pix-elates and creates an overdose that
Flat-lines and shapes the figures that come my way.
You make me shift with every move you make.
There is something about the darkness that alleviates.
Something in the way you talk that makes my breath palpitate.
There is something in the air
And its setting across our universal states.
Dust seeps down on the miles that we found
Between us, I cant settle down now that it is dawn.
I want the drunken and drugged Queen's crown.
I want everything that is wrong,
Everyone that is alone singing this lullaby song,
I want every black tear that tears from that witch's heart.
I want a dry dreary summer to settle into and forget
Every bad dream, sad song, primal love, and every instinctual cheap bet.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 11:24 PM UTC
your every message is like *******
and your voice is like a sweet narcotic,
speaking to you alleviates all pain,
and the first night without you i felt sick.
you told me you’d always be there for me,
said you loved me, something only your mom hears,
was it true at all, or were you just weak?
because you’ve been gone and it feels like years.
we trusted each other with everything,
i told you no matter what i’ll feel this way.
all you said was thank you, i felt nothing.
whether the past was a lie or not, why do i still stay?
Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 4:36 AM UTC