"alleviating" poems
From one thousand mountains the hawks flights are gone
Soaring freely & thinking clearly through the clouds in the sky
Not looking back persevering to fulfill the dreams
The dreams aren't solely an illusion in the mind
But a preview of future times
For the reality in the hawks mind is dreams of happiness
Clashing between difficulty & a paradox of what is seen & what is not seen
What is believed has 20/20 vision
A clear sight with no eyeballs
But a driven mind with great visual
Anticipating the future of success
Feeling blessed and alleviating stress
Persevering and passing all the tests
What lies is the wind which is the past
Securing things of desire at last
Achievement is a good friend
Resulting in a fulfilled end. . .
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
Oppression Ownership Poem
1/26/2014
Why do we lead our hearts by the hand
into our lovers' volatile elements
quicksand mixed with fire
Why do we blame it on desire
say the heart wants what it wants,
but mine doesn't want this at all
Stop.
Alleviating your hearts of guilt and shame
because they're doing it perfectly.
to fall in love and be willing to take set backs
Stop.
Let's take a step back.
Give our hearts back their guilt and ownership
over the oppression of a heart beat you can control
but actually choose not to.
Stop.
Hear that?
It is the sound of a heart beating,
barely breathing
but
Stop.
Now we've fixed it
the problem we couldn't solve
but don't absolve
yourself of sin yet
We've got another oppression needing to be handed over
false ownership we play pretend.
rather than play in a playground with each other.
we blame another for our heart's oppression
but right now in this room
I am the only one holding a broom
trying to tell you that you can't sweep it out
out of your mind
or cover it up with doubt.
I'm not saying don't blame society for creating social constructs of love.
I'm not saying that we don't live in a world that is filled with a sickness
a sickness in some to say that like this we can't keep on living,
because
stop.
We can
and we have
and we cannot and have not
given up on each other, just on ourselves
with every breath we use to utter
that famous druther
that our hearts are victims.
needing to be fixed.
that the world wants to see us suffer
that we can't own our emotions they are far too mixed
with envy and rage and the deepest sorrow anyone could never know.
but I do know,
that
stop.
I do know
that stop
that
stop
stop.
I do know
no I don't.
I don't know but that's for you
to figure out
How to feel your heart's oppression
but don't keep it under ownership
instead let it out.
squeeze it out through your soul
before it gets to take its toll
you have too much to do on this planet
or even on mars, somewhere far up when you reach the stars
because you shine brighter than bullets baby.
when they get shot and hit something leaving a lasting impact.
you pierce through the hull of a steel ship
with that wicked bite of your lip
when your silver tongue speaks golden beauties.
to my wicker ears eager to be burned
with the splendid delight of your brilliant vocalizations
shouting, screaming, taming, keeping an eye opening message.
that you do not own your heart's oppression
and thus it does not own you neither.
because you lived it but it is not your life
like your heart
when you felt it
but did not control it
not because it was out of your control,
but because you chose to set it free,
and so too,
you should be,
rise above your society.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
Hands are for healing,
Alleviating, soothing,
Balms for calming,
Gently restoring,
Curative hands,
From many lands,
To salve and ease,
Free remedies,
Hands for comforting,
Hands are for healing.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 5:55 PM UTC
We sit in silence,
backs crooked,
the couches' cushions caving in.
The weight of passing hours
and minuettes alleviating thinking
in a miscellaneous metronome
ticking to bring time to a heaving chest.
Stay calm,
the pain of realignment will pass.
Burdensome they may be,
burgeoning wings will free you of...
Pressure collapsing this cage,
walls torn from studs,
leaving only this skeleton
surrounding us as we find delirium
the backbone of convulsing lungs watched,
earthquake mute laughter marring the faces
with jagged faults.
The cost of cracking,
we must accept the scarring permanent.
Breaks unplanned infirmities,
alone, our time line disrupted itself
and the heavens came,
tumbling down.
In silence,
we lay, arms barring
our escaping words.
Eyes overstep boundaries,
slipping through the gaps,
a second moment of
clarification fractures restraints
whilst beguiling brainstorms
sparked our interest.
Our tongues meet,
shyly.
rubies placed upon your breath
slipping against molded clay.
In sapphires
you and I hold nighttime
reflections of passion
contained in coal, waiting.
Ivory runs my length,
bending to ecstasy, breathing
shallow, asynchronous, failing
to find it's end in persistence.
In night
the danger dropped us, longing
that dusty light beaming down on
the show, Act 2 is
the comedy. Off.
Parallel parabola line diamond reflections,
allow for recall with brushed fingertips,
horse hair undertones realigning smiles,
abstract the paintings of today,
of yesterday, stealing away tomorrow
in a previous reiteration of our variant
indifference.
The wings of the demon opened
in symbolic solace, fell far
across this burning emotional
harbor, aflame
in angels' suicides.
We've fallen, taken knees to grace,
whispering eulogies the waves applaud.
Sands wash away to cupped stone
palms, caressing the troubled banks lost
in time. The blood washes away,
momentary marks, brown,
stained, it passes.
Demons foreshadow.
In their shade we are seen
falling into broken arms, sinew
stitched through hearts, still healing
strength gives way.
Our tongues meet
shyly,
this reunion a mistake,
now locked, staying stilled while
attempting apologetic phrasing.
We sit in silence,
backs crooked,
blank walls and barren recounts
crashing in.
Aug 19, 2012
Aug 19, 2012 at 2:32 AM UTC
i.
I push her against the door
Passionate shove;
I'm wearing a whitened dress shirt
A striped black vest, primeval musk.
ii.
I grabbeth her by her waist
Fashioned spectacles upon her countenance;
She pulleth hard mine blonde lock's of hair
A woman now, releasing her innocence.
iii.
Her balmy breathe, variegated with mine
I trickle around her neck, kissing around her spine;
Mine alleviating rim's, wetten's down to her toes
Starting at her top, I kiss front, back, her dialect purely moaned.
iv.
The ambience was intensified
Tis we went astray, into eachother's eye's;
Whilst the firmament went asunder
Planet earth shook, the sheet's pulled us under.
v.
We struggle just for air
As ourn bodie's sucketh the sweat;
Mine nail's grippeth her frame
A night we shan't forget.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 9:25 AM UTC
Won't you shotgun blast me to the face?
Though do tell, don't I make you celestial?
-It's my specialty,
Spectacularly, I see you dancing in the clouds
Spectrally resembling and unsettling
An unfurling semblance of reality
Breathe in me, Goddess of my dreamscape
Eclipsing my fate and alleviating waking life
Admirably divine,
A collision of concupiscent melodies
As we perennially intertwine among stars
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
Sunrise nearing its death,
the end of today
complementing the beauty of a pen stroke,
harsh scratching alleviating indelible ideas
showing selves in hues painting our last moments
allowing me to trace timelines
in the contoured caresses
of this silent instrument played
to blend melody with beginnings,
each progression scaling further along
the passing hours left settling
to minutes from now,
purpose elaborated in contrasting
blues and oranges and purples
composing the elegance of utility,
colors not enough to excise the excesses
of depicting days in dimensions,
of simplifying it to degrees of time.
Laying alongside this current
to shape clouds
and animate constellations,
my faux-corpse stares again into
the memory held in galaxies
only glimpsed at twilight.
Sharp cuts of consonants
and vowels' smoothed corners
try to rid me of
stream of conscious thinking loosed,
the inner struggle hoping for reprieve
from that constant combative nature
of inward disagreement
and dialectic digression
deflecting the question of
what if we'd only spoke
instead of being lost
to foreign type-faces designed by
some soul never to see
the dying day my way.
If only we'd spoke,
I would have had the chance
to stumble on a goodbye.
Rather we are left
to flourishes of unfamiliar weapons
sitting askew on these pages,
the balance shifted due to
us degrading to another's personality,
and writing out those lines
we couldn't come to say.
Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 6:51 PM UTC
To my friends whose hearts I'm about to break, know that my left cheek will shatter first before your hearts does.
I hope that's comforting enough to hear.
I've always liked the angle of the right side of my face better, therefore the papers and reporters shall see just that.
I hope that's relieving enough to see.
To my other friends whose eyes I will be leaving swollen ugly for days on end,
España's rain and floods shall hydrate you back to life.
I know because I have blessed the skies with my own tears on the nights prior.
Dapitan's dust and smog shall breathe air into your lungs, but not into mine.
I know because I won't he here tomorrow.
I hope that's alleviating enough to know.
Over the last month, I have never figured out if I liked España or Dapitan better.
But I suppose it's the former, for it shall have my sorry excuse of a body
for the very last time.
It's a bad metaphor for a feigned
and forced liberty,
as with this country that I lived in and loved better than the pretentious
and lifeless cities I've traveled to.
Singapore is but a fleeting fling.
Tickles your fancy but will leave you tired and in resentment.
Hong Kong is just another plaything.
Everybody would tell you she's good and all that, but she lost to your tastes still.
Macau is the lover that never gives but keeps on asking,
she was never the safest bet
nor can you lie and tell her she's the best.
Johor is just as frustrating.
She would be the hardest question in the test, the one you've thought of over and over but still stood miscorrect.
Bangkok, I have kept her dearly in my heart but ended up forgetting still.
My other lover from the farther west, but still wouldn't compare to the best.
But Manila, she lives in me. She is me.
It's a shame, I will never see her prosper and bloom in her waiting heydays,
whenever that may be.
But do I deserve to witness that?
I have never done anything to help pitch in her movement.
But it's a bigger, even better shame to have lived in this age of technology.
Forgive me for leaving too soon, Manila.
Welcome me tomorrow around high noon, España.
Forget about me like you did with your history, my beloved Philippines.
To the headlines, I am diving in headfirst.
To the tabloids, I beg of you to once more tickle the funny bones of a dead girl.
Jul 17, 2019
Jul 17, 2019 at 5:36 AM UTC
I can remember when sleeping was always pleasant.
It was alleviating my burning heels and loosening my straining eyes, looking forward to crystal dreams, transforming myself into a new dimension every night.
Sleeping was my superpower; it was absolute blackness that created a story from nothing, always making me smile in the yellowing morning.
Tonight, a clean slate just seems frightening.
I have no control over this superpower. It is confusing my sense of presence, swallowing me whole and inverting my perception, and injecting evil into my veins, awakening new sides of me.
I'm hoping the moon stays away tonight.
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 2:28 PM UTC
/ //| \ \\ \
/ / / | | | \ \ \\
/ / / /|/||| \ \ \
/ / / / / / / |||\\\\\
I am underneath,
My eyes closed
Its warmth cascading,
Refreshing,
Alleviating,
My soul, reflecting,
Its touch, soothing,
Cooling
Calming
So relaxing
I am extending,
For my blues, I'm chasing,
Away~~~with the water flowing
My pain...disappearing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SHOWER THERAPY
by
Sally
Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 9:58 AM UTC
This is how we know we are alive.
The weighty wind whipping at my weary face,
Begging me.
Whistling me a chorus to dance to.
“I will be your remedy.”
A city of sunflowers,
Endlessly oscillating,
Waving at me.
Their happiness, imminent and palpable.
This is how we know we are alive.
A blanket of rain,
Calm and alleviating.
With no canopy to harbor under;
As each droplet secures my face,
This is how we know we are alive.
And there she is.
Her beautiful voice, like the wind.
Her delicate smile, happy like the flowers.
Her touch; reminiscent of the rain.
This is how I know I am alive.
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 10:16 AM UTC
Sidestepping shadow-plays
boxed in bonus-sized portions
for garden-varietal religions,
I've had these scuzzy intimations
great big (voids) lie behind
most altruistic inclinations
and the biggest news is,
we're still expanding
with-in-exhaustible potentials
to be eternally filled greater.
Now I'll admit to being
hampered in my cognitive
capacity for meaningful
pattern recognition
by my debilitating
predisposition toward
concentrated forms of myopia,
ergo, I can't shape
a formless mess into anything
but incoherent flimflam.
I've tried alleviating this
condition with meditative
concoctions and palliatives
of sensory deprivation,
yet I fear I'll need
a silicon-chip-enhanced head
before I can glimpse
the cosmic legerdemain spinning
its paradoxes of endless
surfaces but no top.
If I finally do, I'll smile big
as a great-white gull winning
his first demonstration hand at
the three-card monte of not-to-be
reconciled contradictions.
May 15, 2010
May 15, 2010 at 9:41 AM UTC
Introvert, extrovert, people of every kind
The toughest battles we face take place within the mind
So take what you need to try and unwind
You're not the only one who's feeling behind
We all suffer the same so remember to be kind
You never know what other troubles people find
Without the needless actions and speaking of others with malign
If you've ever done this leave those habits behind
So that we can all focus on alleviating our own internal grind
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 10:42 PM UTC
**** the Heart!....such a bold concoction of two conflicting words.
**** the Heart!..... the sentence, one of them an ***** one of them a verb.
**** the Heart!.....i am finally pushed to dash away hopes of cupids arrow ever piercing my foolhardy lust.
**** the Heart!.....love to me now is but a fairy tale in a funeral book...ashes to ashes dust to dust....
**** the Heart!......hold composure all you want its what beating in your chest that truly hurts.
**** the Heart!.....such a well protected thing behind sinewy muscle and rock hard bone, but nothing protects it from the emotional carrion crows....picking pick picking at you like the reaper for your soul....
**** the Heart!......i say it now and i swear i hold true......i now rue the day i ever started loving YOU!
**** the Heart!....if i could live without it would be an alleviating grace, to survive without it means certain death but i would forfeit my life right now to smother my emotional pain....
**** the Heart!.......Clack clack tick tock......the penultimate sound of the gun before it ends the life of this emotional clock....
**** the Heart!......definition meaning: enough of these pathetic emotional charades, not necessarily anything to do with a ****** or a ****
**** the Heart!....i tire i am spent, time to lay down my ten weary modern day pens.
**** the Heart!.....now is the time for me to apply my nice guy will power and wrench out this scornful body part.
**** the Heart!.....i should just be how i was a simple pressure *** of emotions, no more of this I Love you Stuff!
**** the Heart!....love is blind, nice guys finish last, i know my dark side; i should give him a chance.
**** the Heart!.....Rage and anger, i realised i slowly embrace....
**** the Heart!......i am wearing thin soon those two might just win my better judgement race....
**** the Heart!...people say im crazy, and i truly do believe them, for anger and rage is but a short lived madness, or so some say...this mother ****** might just get a lil crazy one of these good days.
**** The Heart!....now i feel better in this emotionally disturbing tirade, said it very line and i’m not ashamed....FUCK THE HEART!!!!.....worthless, emotionally tormenting body part......
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 10:07 PM UTC
Foot hits the pavement
Alleviating impatience
Lighter than a feather
To better cushion the jaded
Stomping through the cemetery
The behemoth breaks his back
Stumbling over tombstones
Seemingly jagged in every crack
A man, half a monster,
Half a mouse, mostly bleeding
Drowning in the oxygen bank
Indian given breathing
When the rabbits loose their roots
Aside trees what speak and breathe
The kings are parted out
While the beasts break even clean
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 1:14 PM UTC
none want to break
caring to show weakness
being an undesirable trait
how to cope without losing
is like waiting out a drought
with peanut butter
avoid scattering your pieces
by alleviating pressure
strengthen the foundation
then shoot sure
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 2:40 PM UTC
to bring your everything
into this charred coal vortex
whirring as we walk through
don't leave behind
one sliver of a shard oxidized
rusted wretches inclusive
bring it all
and toss it in
we'll corset fingers
as our debris mingles
cylindrically
we can't shake
these shambles
but we can
sling it into orbit
rearranging, alleviating
the weight
holding is so heavy
especially
the shame
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 9:50 AM UTC
Since you’re moving on, it’s okay to talk. It’s okay to share, because she’s taken my place. She’s shaken your foundations, buried herself deeper in your soul than you buried our pain.
Since I’m moving on, it’s okay to tell you my discoveries. To show the happiness I’ve found. To hide the anger at your failure to tell me about her. And the guilt I feel at hiding him from you.
Since you’re okay with pretending we never loved. I’ll be okay with it too. You buried your pain deep, you say. Mine, mine is the surface, flaking away with each kiss, each whisper, each smile, each intake of smoke, each shot of liquor.
I’m making new playlists, learning new songs.
You’re posting more poetry, finding new loves.
You’re driving new places, losing more weight.
I’m watching new movies, and gaining mine back.
You’ve discovered liquor.
I’ve discovered THC.
I’m trying hard not to break a heart, finding that slow-growing love is just as scary as the unexpected fall.
I’m learning to give and take: compliments, favors, anything really. I’ve found new eyes to explore and a new face to map. I’m kissing those other boys. This time though, I’m still here, I’m still me.
I still don’t want picket fences, or a God. But, he doesn’t either. We don’t plan further than two days in the future and savor the moments. And now we’re spinning faster, farther than I thought I’d go anytime soon. And what you and I had fades fast. Faster than I thought possible. I’m pushing forward. Moving past pain, and anger, and jealousy. And the fear that I’ll never be the same.
I’m letting people in, letting them help. Sharing the weight, alleviating burdens, letting myself be loved, be healed, be anything.
I just want happiness. For you, for me.
I want to see more than flat plains and a familiar college campus. I want to explore the unfamiliar. I want to find truth in a new mind. I want to say with absolute certainty that I’m past us, and you. That I’ve let go of our eight months, and grabbed onto my present.
Since I’ve let go, so have you. Since you’re unburdened, so am I.
Since we’re both moving further and further apart, I guess I should say Good-Bye.
Sep 7, 2010
Sep 7, 2010 at 2:11 PM UTC
Why can't I see through these bloodshot eyes?
Why do I need this poison so bad?
Why can't anyone see past all my lies?
Why when you help do I get mad?
I stuck the needle in my arm
I thought I could handle it
But I didn't contemplate the harm
Now the pain I felt I can never forget.
I feel the poison entering my veins
Temporarily alleviating my pains
But when it wears off I'll need another dose
Being able to get close to people is what I miss the most.
I needed you but you needed a needle
Thats how I feel
When I look down in the casket and realize it's real
Your pride was crushed long ago like a beetle
You pushed everyone away
And yet
At the end of the day
No one will forget
How you needed drugs
And when you asked for help it was met by shrugs
Dec 1, 2010
Dec 1, 2010 at 5:57 PM UTC
I love the rain
It's so calming
Watching it fall
Watching it pour
I could sit there for hours
Wanting nothing more
I love the rain
It's so peaceful
The sound of the droplets
Hit the pavement
And you watch it
Wash away the dirt
I love the rain
It's so cleansing
All the water comes down
Drowning out the sorrow
Alleviating your tomorrow
Giving you hope
I love the rain
It's healing to witness
The way it's free
The way it reveals all honesty
Makes me take a nap
To unwind and unwrap
I love the rain
It reminds me of better times
Of times past
Spent huddled around a fire
During autumn days
Surrounded by family
It makes me think quietly
I reflect and I'm grateful
Suddenly
Life doesn't seem that painful
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC
Pinks and blues color the sky,
The sun has removed itself for the night,
And the breeze rolls on,
Alleviating the August heat.
Though a bit high,
You can find me basking in the last of the light
So I can view all the houses, cars and lawns
As I read on my rooftop; nothing beats
These waning summer nights that
Are fleeting quickly. Nothing beats reading
On my roof, enjoying the solitary act
Of simply reading a book.
I'm doing more than reading up here at
Sunset; no, I'm understanding that this is just leading
Me to the notion that happiness has one fact-
Happiness rests in the little things, you just have to look.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 11:16 PM UTC
Oh,
my smashing liquid crystal,
dilating pupils and drawing back the sheer curtains
to let the light in.
Oh,
my terror in the forest,
the light screams away in silence, echoing off the walls
of bark I shake in.
Oh,
my last breath,
bleeding in the tub, blood pours, black ink in water poured
from a shattering glass.
**** me **** you,
shallow and cross,
angry and peaceful...
just take me away from the marks she has left here
...just ******* drive.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 2:18 PM UTC
The themes and figurines,
Of poetry and of art,
Play upon the dreams,
And by candle light depart,
Initiating hanging strings,
That leave traces in the dark,
Alleviating callous memes,
It’s meaningless completely stark.
The toys and trinket of the epoch,
Now rusted and despair,
Give way to the migrating flock,
With brutal traps that tightly ensnare.
The baubles and the jewellery,
Decorating trees and trunks,
Falderal expressions that pointlessly debunks.
For there’s ecstasy in the lunacy,
That haphazardly dips and dunks.
A trifle merely gesture,
As words become the furniture.
The fragrance in its potency,
More potent than the last,
Has lost some of it majesty,
When spending time thinking of the past.
The abstract and surreal,
Will open up the doors,
And what was once concealed,
Now delicately implores.
So there it is, driving matters forth,
And from and too,
The compass points to north,
But which direction does one go,
When imaginings move and grow?
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 11:35 AM UTC