"barron" poems
Evening slipped into the long abyss
So fell the red moon
Malicious shadows forecasting doom
For the cursed animal man
Inhabiting the precious earth
Fearsome rolling rivers ran dry
Black smoke filled the spanning azure skies
The churning murky green oceans gave up the bones of their dead
When the moon turned red
The crust of the hard ground shook
Split and burst into deep fiery crevasses
Dark yellow orange smoldering nooks
Swallowing all of life
So obliterated was mans world as we know it
Destroyed
Barron and dead
When the moon turned red
This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby Jan.10, 2014
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
The barron earth seems barron still,
The snow is gone but green lost still,
But on the Aspens, the catkins grow,
The male, the female, each in the wind,
The grow and grow and ask to be seen,
A sign of life in a barron land,
The males they dangle, the females *****
A source of life, before the leaves,
Winter's gone and Spring has rose,
The Aspen Moon approaches full,
A few small leaves upon the ground,
A strawberry, a flower, some blades of grass,
As the Apsen Moon begins to wain,
Fast rushes Springtime just like the Bull,
The catkins promise, the leaves fulfill,
New life, new living, the Aspen Moon.
Jul 8, 2012
Jul 8, 2012 at 12:40 PM UTC
How had he found himself in this dungeon
a knight thrown in here.
Sent by his king on his first secret mission
true he was dressed as a peasant.
Harshly he'd been treated a new experience
but not regretting being sent.
This awful place never inside one before
an eye opener for him.
Here he couldn't stay had to escape
report back to the king.
Noticed a sharp piece of wood at hand
shouting out a demand.
The jailer angrily came to the cell door
he banged on the grill.
In a temper the snarling man entered
within seconds he was dead!
Silently falling on to the dank stone
the knight left alone!
Few humans scurried about in passageways
of the castles lower depths.
Coming upon a sentry post a guard stood
soon his life had expired!
Putting on the uniform he was going home
with a sword he would roam.
Very lax security the knight slowly walked
into the alien countryside.
Luckily not challenged he saw a lone soldier
getting off his horse.
Never feeling the blow now homeward bound
with the information found!
Indeed the Barron was a traitor to his king
the knight an army would bring!
The Foureyed Poet.
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 10:25 PM UTC
Please don’t pity my situation
I’m frozen in situ
Don’t smile and **** your head
Don’t say awww or that’s a shame
Don’t pat my hand and assume it will happen
Don’t tell me I’m missing out
Don’t tell me I’ll never understand until it happens to me
Don’t assume your life is more fulfilled then mine
Don’t pretend it makes you more mature then me
Don’t make me a faux Aunty to another friends fruit
Don’t joke about lending or sitting like it’s the same
Don’t imagine Yours could ever be a substitute for mine
That they could replace the ache in my heart or fill it with what it’s missing - even worse be greatful for the privilege
Don’t act like it’s a grand gester like your giving my life meaning
When things are awful and bad don’t tell me you stay for them and use them as an excuse to not walk away
Don’t tell me if I had I’d under stand
Don’t make me feel incomplete because I haven’t - I’m already feeling it
Don’t call me lucky because I sleep in
Don’t say “nice for some” when I go out it isn’t my choice
Don’t assume this is about freedom
Don’t pretend it will happen one day
Don’t put your false hopes onto me
Don’t assume he will leave me if I don’t deliver - we’re much more then potentials Ps
Don’t assume it’s because of the weight
Don’t give me a gimmick or tips
Don’t tell me your storys
Don’t talk about it or predict about it
Dont tell me about feelings in your waters
Don’t treat me like this is my only purpose
Dont think I get hurt because you grow and blossom in a way I can’t
Don’t assume I’m bitter and resentful
Don’t pretend I can’t be happy for you
Dont treat me like I’m broken like my whole exsistence revolves around a broken womb
.......I’m so much more
.......I’ve seen so much more, felt so much more, grown and lost
.......I live so much more and want so much more
.......I have more plans and options then you can imagine
My back up plan is full of love and life still!!
(C) Ashley Kane FB
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 9:56 AM UTC
i wandered for a long time
among thorns, disease and death
no glimmer to see
feel the walls, feel the cave,it leads you out
i found many Christian doors
locked with big heavy chains
you preach "come Ye weary"
to locked door?!
Christian followers preach beautiful
words divinely chosen for impact
no temperature ever checked
walk among bibles, oil and cloths
dance in praise
blow the battle horn
But But But
who sees those wandering in the dark standing before closed doors for help
closed doors mean" banishment to the Barron out field
red sin covered land
mercy irrelevant
demanding cruel deity
pleased with nothing
pushes self destruction
cries are stamp on
more pain more glory
damage soul the goal
your pleadings are laughed and spit upon
the glorious hellish Barron outfield
do you allow this dear reader?
do you have closed doors?
i lived in the outfields now i'm home thank God
my Guardian through prayer opened a door for me
now i know, now i know
follow the true Christ
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 3:50 AM UTC
The desert was flat you could never tell
that below where you stood
was a military bunker and missile silo
from a time years passed
built here on this lonely barron latitude
that had a bad attitude!
An everlasting reminder of mans ingenuity
negative approach to peace
of times that have gone but do still exist
creation of terror and destruction
yet for many this factor has disappeared
to die is no longer feared!
Thinking foolishly that all conflicts will end
is only in dreamers minds
always there simmering the spark of war
lay in wait in human culture
where somebody is ready to light the flame
so conflicts in history doth remain!
The Silo is but one symbol of the ****** past
forever on humans the shadow cast!
The Foureyed Poet.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 2:56 PM UTC
Trump sure knows how to
share the sacrifices,
spread that butter a little thin
on his own toast,
as say ...
when he weekends
at Mar-a-Lago,
that opulent palace-like estate
with its Flemish tapestries,
lavish oriental rugs,
& a Louis XIV-style ballroom,
with $7 million in gold leaf
on the walls,
one-more-time ...
$7 million in gold-leaf
on the walls,
& it is here that he relaxes
every weekend
this Sun-King of ours,
this Oriental Potentate,
this Pasha in crushed velvet,
the cost of these jolly
jaunts is $4 million
each weekend,
oh … & there’s $4
million a month for
Melania & Barron too,
poor young Barron,
who one does
feel for
in a way.
So … at the risk
of sounding like
an early 20th century
Bolshevik & drawing
attention to inequalities
& injustices & wealth
& rank luxury at the
very time when hungry
& lonesome old folks
are to be deprived
of basic nourishment,
I'll say:
"The revolution is not
an apple that falls
when it is ripe.
You have to make
it fall."
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 7:20 PM UTC
tumbleweeds they roll and tumble on the plain
rolling round and round and rolling back again
rolling in the wind drifting in the sand
tumbling wild and free across the barron land
rolling very freely rolling in the breeze
all across the desert and passed the cactus trees
May 16, 2010
May 16, 2010 at 9:54 AM UTC
When you bleed out for so long you forget what it's like to have a pulse.The sensation of dust dries the bones, hollows out the eyes, and makes breathing a quantum equation you just can't bear to think about.
Thoughts become brittle, your heart beats over time, double-paced, trying to fight against the slipping sands in your viens while playing time keeper to the beat of a drum.
You become stripped, barron, naked before the Almighty God and beg for Him to just wet His finger so that He may cool your cracking lips.......... But there's a chasm between you two. Between your higher functions, ***** and brain, between your salt and soul.
You remember what it's like to bleed deep red instead of grainy grits of sediment. You remember what it's like to be made of something lighter than desert. You remember what it's like to be cut, having yourself drip to the ground instead of blown away in the breeze.
It's the letting of blood that heals you. Blood letting that removes the black, viscose, oil burning through your arteries.
It's blood letting that clears the thick smog of cigarette smoke from your lungs.
Blood letting... Gives you back a mind made of sanity, washed clean of the ashes of yesterday's burnt memories.
I'll tell you how to pick up and walk again... If only you'll let a little blood
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 5:59 PM UTC
There is a confrontation in the mirror
There Is two of me,
But we are not the same
One is blue and one is my pale flesh reflection
I know who the blue is,
She has been there my whole life
She feeds upon my joy and feeds upon my strife
I once named her Laura,
Because I knew that person was not myself
I know who I am,
I have gotten that part figured out
I am strong, I am happy, I am going to go places in this life
But laura isn’t going to go anywhere,
And maybe that’s why she is blue
Because someday she is going to die
The medicine will **** her,
My therapy will **** her
I’m sorry Laura, you will no longer be a part of me
Does that make me a murderer?
Is that justified to **** that piece?
I close my eyes, the phoenix insides rises
Out of the ashes that was once the barron land of my mind
Laura is no longer there,
I have defeated a beast that I treated as a friend for far too long
You see Laura was just my depression
Laura was just my panic disorder
Laura was an attachment
Laura was never me
And now I can finally be happy
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 1:30 AM UTC
Through the barren ground there was hope
a tiny plant grew!
The drought wiped man from the earth
mined of all goodness.
Without water the human race declined
few were left to find.
Warnings ignored but the wealthy hoarded
while most were denied.
Rain became just a word in our history
so from billions alive!
Numbers fell to less than a hundred thousand
a child's cry a rare sound!
Two centuries went by the numbers dwindled
the earth like a huge prune!
Vegetation withered sand replaced fields
the seas paddling pools.
The survivors huddled in the many cool caves
the dying planets slaves!
Then that day early before the unbearable heat
two young humans saw.
Under a shaded rock overhang rarely visited
life they'd never seen.
How could it be growing in this dry soil
without water or toil?
Had nature at last regenerated starting to heal
the air seemed to blow.
A trickle of water bubbled up by the plant
the small group gathered.
Looking at the plant growing on barren land
each touched it with a hand!
What none knew was from an underground lab
in a secret city.
Genetically designed plants and creatures
were being unleashed!
Deciding earth's only purpose experimentation
before it's total deterioration!
Then the wealthy would move to a new earth
they'd found for their rebirth!
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 10:51 AM UTC
the wall quietly bleeds
the conversations of next doors
distorted masses
five loose angry souls
sound like a choir of the dammed
milling about on the wood floor
of their own personal private version of hell
she interrupts the process
of your steam engine thought pattern
seeking the real depth of a summer day
looking for the bottom of cup of coffee
in all the midnights you've wandered through
naked to the truth
naked to the waiting for revelation of the greater being
but she cant get past the church she sees in your eye
inside your own version you are
overrun with fast thoughts
little ones that are like nervousness fingers
they get into every crevasse of your vanilla mind
push them away but they sneak
round and come from the sides
come at you from the depths of her eyes
at you from the heights of
the big boss mans neatly pressed carpet
at you from the Red Barron's little plane
that used to hang from your brothers ceiling
all thouse years ago
to her truth is a defense of last resort
to make normality reduced into a ***********
the beauty of half measures
to be the nirvana of her lifestyle is to be a moral *****
whatever treasure of slogans sells the best today
is the one she spreads with her abnormal disease of love
her spiritual life is governed by popularity and brutality
she has told the same lies for so long she even believes them
she is what she is
not quite death incarnate
but an animal of the same fur
a face holding the same memories
a brother to the madness inside her
the truth is never far away
but it might as well
be lost in the mountains of the moon
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 1:55 PM UTC
you know, it's mornings like these...
lonely mothers on a bus
a man whose expression says less than I do
forlorn looks, contagious
passing from face to face
on air so thick like syrup
leaving impatient hands and eyes
sticky with fatigue
and comfort I take
for granted with ease
but on mornings like these...
out a window
I pick a fight
with an absent god
he stares back
and wary feet carry me here
I've never seen a place like this
so many people, their minds
somewhere else or maybe sleeping
they don't want to be here
who think of nothing but
what they don't have
and where they aren't
I pass my own eyes
a symptom of stillness--
the disease that kills itself
on mornings like these...
this is a place dead and thriving
a city hope-barron, bustling
blank, blank faces
float on a restless breeze
moving, always moving
but going nowhere
this ghost town abandoned
yes, but no one ever left
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 7:16 PM UTC
taken by an alien while i was out at sea
took me in his space craft that hovered over me
he took me through the galaxy way up in the stars
then he carried on to his home on mars
we landed on the surface of this dry and barron land
then he spoke to me but i couldnt understand
he had great big eyes and a figure ghostly white
glowing in the dark glowing oh so bright
he seemed very friendly and as nice as nice could be
then he flew me home again to my ship upon the sea.
May 3, 2010
May 3, 2010 at 12:59 PM UTC
It all starts with
the perfect crust.
Not too thick,
not too thin,
with just the right
amount of crunch.
Classic crust
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 7:24 PM UTC
How can I continue my journey now
I have to get out but I don’t know how
trapped in this Barron land of pain
walk into the fields of the brutally slain
I’ve had lives slip from my hands
memories flow like hourglass sand
regret weighs down my heart and soul
It burns inside like a burning coal
I fall to my knees and stare at the sky
I become weightless I start to fly
Fear and sorrows flood my chest
what happens now, what will come next
I feel a release of my earthly state
Ive walked through the eternal gate
stars around me burn so bright
there is nothing now that escapes my sight
creations of dimensions, I’m not bound by chains
Feeling warmth with out the radiance of flames
The past is not me, I no longer have sins
This new reality for me now begins
Images of worlds and amazing lights
I reign in existence between death and life
Power I feel cannot be explained
the life force of mine cannot be drained
Death was a blessing not a curse
To turn away from the life I had first
But now I’m eternal, now I am extreme
This is my life now, my wake-less dream
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 1:20 AM UTC
Cri Per sooth a lbay Goyle
way hem- raging letter
(p)Frozen shell, thaw sleeting
Pulsing necks harelm glow-in
after math of the shadowy fight
her's filling glaint, gladly save
entice weary charter banner
pilling sooth sabre
Immerseyourself, freeself lead soul
not that of a barron but soon
something/ ethers awept & taken
back from ground
back from reprose
back from amist
Groomed tooken & Vol = best
my friends & love
i am awept
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 10:16 PM UTC
The wind whispers stories from some other land.
Two thousand miles away in some Barron sands
If you listen close and and do nothing but hear
Those miles it's seen its now finally here.
Three seas and three shores it has traveled alone.
Blown through the leaves and makes a gurgling tone.
The words are unclear from the hardship it grazed
As it hits my face I can tell it's in rage.
A lot like my life the air seems to cast
I wonder why all my memories last.
Some good and some bad , some wanted some not.
My memories like the stalled morning dew
By sunrise we know the wind never stops
So keep in your mind when you feel down low
That the wind is your heart and will continue to blow.
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 3:09 AM UTC
I never quite have met a man
like Brother Barron Smith.
I never knew a happier man
than Brother Barron Smith.
Never have I seen a gait
quite as loving, quite as straight
with such passion to elate
as Brother Barron Smith.
No one bore the light of life
like Brother Barron Smith.
Not despairing, nor in strife
was Brother Barron Smith.
He showed me how to go my way:
A beacon glowing night and day.
And, in my heart will always stay
my brother, Barron Smith.
He left his mark and mem'ry here,
did Brother Barron Smith:
A mem'ry I will hold most dear
of Brother Barron Smith.
He lifted me, and did his part
to give my soul a running start!
I hold a chamber in my heart
for Brother Barron Smith.
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 8:06 PM UTC
I love my wife with all my heart,
She's the sweetest kindest woman, and she's so smart.
Like a flower that's bloomed in a winters sun, with the ground all ice and land barron. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen,
No explanation could explain the existence of such a thing.
I've known such love, such a tremendous thing.
It brings such joy to hear her sing, she has brought me my children,
The Sweetest things, they have took hold of my heart it's been amazing.
Yes,
With my dearest wife I could never part.
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 2:24 PM UTC
laying down in this hellish, warm, barron, land.
I crave not eat nor drink.
nor crave I shade.
ne'r more I crave than to
sink my teeth into the soul of you
soul guided by glistening stars
laugh to open jail cell bars
devil's paints to hide your face
shrouded you are, always shrouded
wash Thein ink off.
show me this face you hide.
shrouded by happyness you have denied,
glance up, teary eyes, cry ne'r more.
for with your devil's I'll clean score.
hush sweet sinner, lay your head,
down in this barren, warm, hellish land of dead.
wipe your cheeks on my chest,
I'll carve your visage onto my crest
lend me your hand, for an instant yet,
for me to thank you, dousing my endless regret .
washing years of torment away, a dark soul I begot,
fear not sweet face.
thou hath my soul.
erased
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 11:48 AM UTC