"batters" poems
Love trusts, lust twists
Love rains, lust drains
Love reaches, lust catches
Love couples, lust combines
Love retains, lust detains
Love relies, lust relays
Love cares, lust caresses
Love binds, lust blinds
Love floats, lust flees
Love belongs, lust longs
Love ascends, lust descends
Love fames, lust defames
Love creates, lust recreates
Love commands, lust demands
Love chooses, lust chases
Love boosts, lust boasts
Love at heart
Lust in mind
Love in lust is good
Lust in love is better
Love likes privacy
Lust looks for piracy
Love opens lust
Lust closes love
Love is slow, lust is fast
Love is steady and stable
Lust is mobile and fragile
Love is reliable, lust is liable
Love is long, lust is short
Love is homogeneous
Lust is heterogeneous
Love is defensive
Lust is offensive
Love is precious
Lust is pernicious
Love is supportive
Lust is supplementary
Love is refined
Lust is defined
Love betters life
Lust batters it.
Love has character
Lust has conduct
Love wins over
Lust weans out
Love combines
Lust divides
Love is cool
Lust is crazy
Love is peaceful
Lust is pleasant
Love is wholesome
Lust is piecemeal
Lust comes first
Love becomes best
Love is progressive
Lust is aggressive
Lust laminates
Love illuminates
Love is slow n steady
Lust is hasty n nasty
Love is dense, lust is tense
Lust is conditioned,
Love is air-conditioned
Lust is lovely to begin with
Love is lustrous to end up
Love heals, lust wounds
Love owns, lust disowns
Love is onus, lust is onerous
Love is basic, lust is allowance
Love conforms, lust confuses
Love binds, lust blinds
Be aware of love
Beware of lust
That comes like
wolf in sheep’s clothing
Let the fair blend
of love and lust
rule the roost
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:15 AM UTC
Storms.
I like storms.
Sometimes they start slow
with ominous, cadaverous clouds,
slowly rolling, tumultuous.
A few drops of rain,
frigid and fresh,
speaking in a pattering argot on my roof.
Calm, soft rain.
Rain that lulls me to sleep.
Sometimes they are fast and sweet.
An ephemeral rush of raindrops,
mellow cannonades of thunder,
trees still verdant,
green against gray.
Sometimes they are hot and volatile
with lightning so bright
it hurts my eyes,
thunder that roars
and permeates the quiet.
The wind screams,
rain batters my windows.
These are the nights I do not sleep.
I sit, thrilled,
listening to the primitive barrage,
the aphotic chaos,
remembering that this is how it feels
to be alive.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 11:09 PM UTC
19th July
Saturns hexagon shaped storm stuffed into a human body.
I open my mouth and the black bellowing thunder
batters everyone in my way into the ground,
gailforce winds stealing their breath to make it mine.
Ferocious tidal waves live in my eyes and
leak from me and fill the room
but i'm already drowning.
My lungs are filled with ***** water and I feel it flooding my veins like poison.
I can feel the bolts of lightning glittering behind my eyes,
stunning those who try to look at me - into me.
I am a complete hurricane in a persons form, a never-ending storm,
a destructive monster crushing and
stomping on everything in the way.
A fusillade of iron bullets shoot from my skin.
I need to drag everyone down with me,
make them bleed with me.
Suffer with me.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 9:39 PM UTC
A bright lad called Alistair Cook
Did enjoy the occasional book,
He went out to bat,
NO - don't play at that,
They did him; line, sinker and hook.
On him I'd bet my whole house,
More like a lion than a mouse,
He bats with aplomb,
Both dainty and strong,
It can only be Andrew Strauss.
From the pavilion did Jonathan Trott,
Nervous and anxious he is not,
He'll be there for a while,
All England will smile,
And South Africa know he is hot.
Next in is the feisty KP,
His batting, the top of the tree,
Sixes so great,
They should be worth eight,
Now just stay IN for a hundred or three!
A chap from ooop north who is good,
Goes by the name of Paul Collingwood,
Gritty and tough,
We just can't get enough,
Fight as hard as him, we all should.
No more will the fear he smell,
He's been down to the gym as well,
His batting is slick,
Number six does the trick,
The crowd cheers for Ian Bell.
Swinging his bat, it's Matt Prior,
Born with iron grit, steel and fire,
If he holds each catch,
We'll win the match,
And his ranking will go much higher.
Our spinner is next, Mr Swann,
His bowling is coming on strong,
His batting is great,
Which the opposition hate,
Not to pick him much sooner was wrong.
Our tall quickie is young Stuart Broad,
His bat is a rapier like sword,
He can oft' bowl too short,
Yet the batters get caught,
And Of wicket-taking we never are bored.
James Anderson is our king of swing,
Late movement his favourite thing,
Please bowl nice and full,
Offer nothing to pull,
And just hear those stumps go 'ping'.
Graeme Onions comes in at long last,
Cannot bat but, he can bowl fast,
He makes them play,
While others may stray,
Durham long-hops a thing of the past.
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 10:59 PM UTC
The river runs fast and swift,
Churning and boiling and frothing,
Foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal.
But inside my study, I am unaffected.
I look up as it batters at my door.
The hourglass on my desk
Has been upset once more.
It’s lying on its side, the sand askew.
I stand to fix it but my head whirls—
Must not have eaten enough,
Or must not have slept enough,
Or must not have calmed enough.
The reason matters not,
And it keeps me not from my task.
I set the hourglass back on its feet
And sink back into the cushioned chair,
Curling up once more with the tales of old.
I’ve lost track of time now—
The hourglass can only lie to me now—
And I have that river to thank.
Blasted thing.
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 3:08 PM UTC
A beautiful world turns round again
A simple man must meet his end
A bright new baby is born anew
A cycle can do nothing except renew
But no sick cycle is meant for us few
No endless circuit to remove us from the slew
Of public discord raining down from the heavens
We only stay on track to see where it ends
A broken sidewalk is our path to somewhere
To carry us away to a brand new nowhere
But no preformed path can lead us away
Unless we walk forward to find our own feet at play
A brand new day comes to find its own end
What irony arises from the end of a beginning?
When does a fresh start turn stale and still?
Do our new opportunities hover until they fall?
Or do we have to pluck them out of the air
So thick we can’t see, what the future means us to be
Are we failures or successes?
Do the powers that be know that we
Are the next wave of an endless storm
That batters the public consciousness
Leaving it forlorn and ragged
By the dissent of the vocal minority
We will forever be we, and that is a fact
The sullen masses can’t remove our power
An urge to survive will rain down like a shower
On the poor souls without the life of their dreams
The possibilities remain locked inside heads of lead
While those without any move on ahead
A world for the doer but not for the thinker
Can doom the ideas of the intelligent and weaker
People without the urge to move and shout
Living a life of inadequacy is their only way out
A great ending for these is not in the cards
Instead the powerful push down the bards
The dreamers who knew not the hunger
To leap to the top and remove any wonder
As to whom they could be
Must lie at the bottom explaining the lives
Of those successful but simpler spirits
Who lacked the essence but held on to ambition
A world that is just never comes to fruition.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 4:02 AM UTC
There is something living in me,
an anonymous being devouring my dreams
and driving me out of my mind.
I have stepped down from my position to
operate this machine,
and the creature has turned autopilot.
I wake up suddenly when I have not been sleeping.
I forget my lines.
My smile has gone into hiding.
The dark crescent moons waxing below my eyes
are swallowing my face like the night sky.
The skin that shelters these two residents
has become more and more translucent,
and still I cannot see who has moved in with me.
How can you defeat an invisible enemy?
One who always knows your strategy,
whose voice and footsteps sound like yours,
who leaves on lights and opens doors,
who gets to breathe every time you inhale,
I am failing constantly
and through this, it prevails.
If you spend enough time with demons,
they soon become your friends.
A part of you to love and defend.
But careful that you do remember,
how easily your heart dismembers.
Do not trust the darkness inside,
who feeds on your doubts and batters your pride.
The parasite feels no remorse
when it feasts on its final course.
I know it is hard to find the light
with wool pulled over your eyes.
You are the sheep, but deep asleep
a lion is ready to rise.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
Injection of love has no limits,
Diminishes bad habits, only traces of a worthy candidate.
We ride the wave of feelings and serenade our ears to the rhythmic beats of our hearts.
How often do the least get rewarded, unseen and unblemished by the horror of life.
This world is paved with gold, pity those treasures are covered by things stale and old.
But not this love...it awakens the soul and traces back the lies we were told.
Capture my runaway train of thought and reign my wishes,
Drowning in my blushes, if words were permanent and memories paintings.
They would create what's never seen...write a story using the strokes of colour displaying my thoughts.
This pie in the sky feeling is blowing up the dust off my feet,
Keep my eyes smiling and inspiring me to always appear neat...spit in the face of defeat,
For after brokenness comes something sweet.
It's me again...leaving behind what was and forgetting there is such a thing as pain.
We keep moving, this love keeps sowing, and unaware of the growth underground, we keep growing.
I love this love. It looks appealing...something out of your dreams which comes alive before your eyes.
It looks great and fun, anticipating excitement and never being out done.
Time...I picture it sitting in a corner with its legs crossed and watching from a distance. It knows when and even know and even beyond the now.
The human heart carries so much...how it can carry hate and love together is hard to imagine.
How does it do it...carry such strong repelling emotions yet still survive...I choose the latter.
There is no darkness in it nor is there despair...
See when you let love take you...you welcome a gentle peck from the heavens.
It warns your soul and melts the concrete that had engulfed the heart...now finally you can hear your soul mates knock.
Laughter and long walks, sunsets and crazy talk....
This image might not be for everyone, but love invites everyone.
I love love...it sees no faults, just purity on the eyes of its viewer.
It hurdles you when the world batters you...keeps you sain.
How can I not love love, when it rescued me in my most deepest and brutal pain.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 7:43 AM UTC
Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell. As you ring,
what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?
If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.
In this uncontainable night,
be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.
And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am.
Sonnets to Orpheus II, 29
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 11:53 AM UTC
A lone gray bird,
Dim-dipping, far-flying,
Alone in the shadows and grandeurs and tumults
Of night and the sea
And the stars and storms.
Out over the darkness it wavers and hovers,
Out into the gloom it swings and batters,
Out into the wind and the rain and the vast,
Out into the pit of a great black world,
Where fogs are at battle, sky-driven, sea-blown,
Love of mist and rapture of flight,
Glories of chance and hazards of death
On its eager and palpitant wings.
Out into the deep of the great dark world,
Beyond the long borders where foam and drift
Of the sundering waves are lost and gone
On the tides that plunge and rear and crumble.
1.4k
‘You seemed to love her deeply’
I told my uncle.
It was raining dense
As I held him back,
The evening was not one to go out.
‘Deeply enough no doubt’
His voice echoed in gloom.
‘But she wasn’t your type,
she was flirtatious,
she had many like you’.
‘Still I loved her deep,
loved her mad,
loved her till and after
she broke my heart’.
I saw a glint in his eyes.
‘Forty years and she still hurts,
batters my self respect,
taunts my defeats’.
‘But you got yourself a steady partner,
not flirtatious, never leaving your side’.
‘True but she did the damage,
she left me to seek her in all women’.
Outside the rain stopped
And the sky begot a half moon.
He still loves her, I pondered,
Her fossil he bears
All these forty years,
But had he got her,
Could he carry the cross of love so far?
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 2:34 AM UTC
through my microscope, I spend hours
looking at the interstices of a plant cell wall;
if the earth did not spin, I could endure the whole
frigid night staring through my telescope at one violently still
crater on the moon
but I eat only soggy cheerios for breakfast,
ramen--chicken flavor--for lunch, EVERY day,
and either Dinty Moore stew or cheese ravioli
for my evening repast
my toothbrush must be blue, the paste pure white
and I could never tolerate the plight, of socks slipping
down past my ankles
I love Vivaldi, Brahms, and the sound of soft rain,
but hail batters my brain like a billion ball bearings
on an defenseless tin ***
my alarm must face due north
and my bed sunset west, beyond those things
I have no peculiar request
except
that things remain EXACTLY the way they are/were
for eternity
I can't play a savant symphony
like some would expect, or do cataclysmic calculations
in my head
though I can recall,
two years and four months ago today, a gold thumbtack sitting alone
on my dead granddad’s wood work bench, and the gray smelling roll of duct tape I placed precisely three inches from it, to keep it company
and if I ever again travel 365.26 miles to visit Granny
in Milwaukee, Wisconsin USA, it better be there, not having dared
to move a nightmarish nanometer
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC
He was evil
Worse than the devil
He cut my soul
And tore it to shreds
He laughed at my depair
And cried at my rejoicing
But my rejoicing is a thing of the past
He made sure of that
My sorrows cloud my mind
And all the while I hear his cruel evil laugh
Intertwined amongst the melodies of death
I hear my soul cry out to my heart
He wrenches and the sound is gone
My heart batters at the wall
The wall I put there
To protect and safegaurd it
My heart cries out
Intertwined amongst the melodies of death
I hear my soul scream out in suffering
My heart attacks the wall again
And I feel it crumble
Strangly I do not care
That wall has caused me pain
But I kept it there with the illusion
That without it the pain would be tenfold
So as the wall crumbles
I reqch out and pull it down
My heart soars
Power flashes and radiates outwards
I rejoice and he cries
He screamrs and challenges my heart
My heart attacks and ............
Intertwined amongst the melodies of life I hear him and I smile
I won
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 8:26 AM UTC
Rain patters on the window
hurricane winds whistle round about
my mind.
I hear the rain, amazed that the sun's rays
still fall to earth, warming and nurturing
Cocooned in a throw, I look at the room
I've lain in for three days in a pain of my making.
I've become a cliche, the madwoman in the attic
lamenting lost love, lost life.
Cruelty knows no bounds, yet it binds.
Rhythmically the rain batters at the panes.
I don't want praise, I like my malaise
I feel real when I feel pain
I lie slain on the floor, amidst the wreckage
of a marriage.
I've died over and over these last three days
I want to get up and comfort you
To tell you that your life will go on
Mine had to end. I'm sorry you found me
on the floor, tablets strewn everywhere.
Baby steps now my love
you knew I was broken,
there's only so many matryoshka dolls in the original
I'm still here my love, it's just better that
you don't see me, but I can watch over you.
Your heart is broken, filling with rain and tears
my heart and soul was broken when the ink was dry
on the paper declaring us over.
When I get up from the floor, I want you to listen to the rain and
know it's me, my ghost knocking at your door.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 6:13 AM UTC
winter is leaving
snow melts by the rise of degrees
and the sun beaming
every ice breaks
waters leave the structure
the air batters them down as it wakes
blooming arrives like a ghost
through the walls
spring awakes every plant
from big to small
warm breeze carries musical notes
trees and oats are shaking rhytmically
colorful gardens carry their fragrance whimsically
we receive another chance
to leave a trace in the winds
near the agricultural grange
let us tune our guitars
play our arrangement
and make the changement
Feb 24, 2021
Feb 24, 2021 at 5:33 AM UTC
When I think of death I get scared
About how I'm not prepared
Because no one will be there
When I think of death I get lonely
And begin to act fairly phony
To get someone to hold me
When I think of death I get crazy
My frantic thinking becomes hazy
As I wonder what will finally slay me
There's a thousand ways to skin a cat
But zero ways to bring it back
There's a thousand ways to hear it scream
But zero ways to hear it dream
Death is so cunning
I hear death drumming
In the distance
Despite resistance
I can't dispute
It's absolute
I hear a death rattle
Like an overdose
That's oh so close
There's no way to battle
A lonely coyote contracts rabies
As a scared mother drowns her babies
Submerging them in death
Cleansing them of life
Until there's nothing left
She turns off the lights
She has taken what she was giving
She has taken from the living
I see death in my dreams
While I constantly flee
These nightmares
Don't fight fair
They use a brutal truth
Of undeniable proof
That this time I must spend
Will come to an end
And there will be time I waste
Despite my haste
So I seek out purpose and glory
Before loved ones must mourn me
Death flows
With time's infusion
Time shows
Death's illusion
That we'll be able to take anything with us
Or that anyone will miss us
I watch time sink down the drain
Until nothing remains
Time batters
Until I'm flatter
And only death stands tall
Behind my mortal wall
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 4:53 AM UTC
~
And my smile grows…of you
When clouded days appear
yet still I find sunshine is brightly filling each corner of my heart
glowing with every thought that illumines me… of you
“Your light finds me through a the dense charcoal mist”
When winds blow a’ gusty scattering of dust,
as I find the air sweet as magnolia petals saved in my pocket,
brings me the unforgettable fragrance… of you
“The sweet breath of your nature flows over me”
When soaring heat batters my crimson skin,
but the cool breeze of love soothes my sunburned shoulders
in affections softly flowing from the fingertips...of you
“Cool spring zephyrs wrap your love about my body”
When I sit in a darkened space, alone with only my dreams
and a teardrop finds my cheek in a glistened falling line
happily, as I relive each eternal memory…of you
“And my smile grows…of you”
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 8:13 AM UTC
The intersection of air and aroma,
together brings sustenance and nostalgia.
That air, which once helped you breathe, now clogs your throat,
like a seafarer wading without a boat.
Epochs passing, as a lost love’s scent batters
the mind’s shore, once more sentient life scatters.
Here and now is lost, forgotten touches felt,
as waves of her sweet laugh dull any din dealt.
Like déjà vu she’s there then gone, now forlorn--
roused from the dream, which floats away before long.
Apr 2, 2012
Apr 2, 2012 at 1:57 AM UTC
the version of night shifts as each person
unfolds within mind what they see
it mutates as time proceeds
a contagion of the eye
makes her sad face regal with its pure and true
beauty clean line and side cast gnawing fear
makes her soft skin a sandpaper of insecurity's
and her sexuality a landmine filled no mans land
she moves restlessly in her seated position
spreading and folding herself
like a spastic lotus flower
like a wasp confused by butterfly's
the version of night shifts once again
and the two of you stand in the
narrow shadows at the edge of a vast
pitted concrete slab
the air is thick and greasy with tropical heat
she is ****
you cannot help but to reach over and touch
she only watches your hand
thin smile on her thin lips
inside your your separate minds
you each hold separate conversations silently
imagine the dreamlike responses
the version of night strains as she slowly
dresses and you silently walk
side by side into the the darkness
back to the noise room
back to the chair she cried in
back to the floor you feared
the version of night is fluid
like a infected river
it flows thru her veins as she
injects another dose of crying and coughs
breathing heavy
you sit cross legged at her feet
an apostle to the teaching that
beauty is no measure of destiny its only a means
a student of the humanities isolated and afraid
by a spastic lotus flower
a wasp confused by butterfly's
she batters down the defenses
contagion of perceive then process
that becomes reality governs her motive
it mutates as time proceeds
lies repeated become fact because they were spoken
so much they defied truths razor
fact becomes fiction
as truth is distorted in the crucible of
think think think think think
as truth is hammered clean of impuritys
and worked by the hands of the mind
into a better package
a more palatable lie
help me
help her
the night is unsympathetic
as she injects
cough
touch
sweat panting for abundant air
this is a killing cycle
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 8:26 PM UTC
The pain is so sublime
it is like a piece of fabric torn.
Morphine is the prescription
that is promised as relief.
I have a better healer,
a celestial figure of appeal.
Hail Holy Mother, Queen of Heaven,
I submit myself to you.
The pain increases,
the pain increases.
It keeps me awake at night.
I appeal to you, most Holy,
please comfort me.
Mother of God,
may my thoughts
dwell always on you.
Sweet ******
may my words reflect my truth
I'm lonely and alone on this
frustrating destination.
Crawling reluctantly,
towards the conclusion.
Afraid and disheartened.
Alone but for You.
You lead me to your Son.
You bring me to Him.
Mumbled thinking of
fragmented living drowns
out living as a real person.
Collecting stones of agony
that batters the walls of
resistance. It destroys
what it can not heal.
Thank you God.
Thank you for hope.
That is all I cling to.
Mary, precious Mary,
cloak me in your mantle
of promised protection.
Hail Mary,
Hail Mary,
Hail Mary.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 8:55 AM UTC
As the rain batters the car
sighs born in a
love/hate stalemate
weigh down the air
Forests surround the parking
lot, protecting
our thoughts, nothing
saves me from you
Words spoken incompletely
float in the clouds
of sad warm breath
and ghosts turned to flesh
Limbs untangle and reach for
the moon, stereo
cherubs sing tunes
of sweet death metal
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
Domestic violence, I feel it in your silence,
I see the pain in your eyes, hearing the torture in your cries.
Bruises, broken bones your half dead,
he battered you so badly there's scars on your head, with the feeling of dread.
To weak to fight his strength, you'd go to any length,
to break free run from this bully, he don't love you in his heart not truly or fully.
Excuses are running out, you have to get out
U can hear him coming, you get the urge to start running.
You freeze he grabs you by the hair,
pleading with him to stop, in this rage he doesn't care.
Another punch in the face, he throws you around,
too young to pick you up off of the ground.
He says he didn't mean it, i wish you could of seen it
from the beginning, he's got a hold of you he thinks he's winning.
walking on egg shells living in this hell,
too afraid to speak out, there's no one you can tell.
He rapes you batters you inflicts all this pain,
stripped you of your dignity, makes you feel insane.
Domestic violence, break your silence
fight back your strong, what he's doing is wrong.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 2:45 AM UTC
From high above us Mother Nature angrily breathes,
Humankind has done her wrong,
We built buildings and knocked down trees,
Destroyed the harmonies of her precious birdsong,
So to show us whose boss and to make a stand,
She raises the cars and destroys our fences,
And ravages the illegitimate upon her land,
We look on astounded as she batters our defences,
The wind howls wildly and the rain is forced down,
The sky above grows dark and the moon hides in fear,
Instinct returns to humans; they race to shelter in the town,
They can’t choose to survive; the choice is with Mother Nature’s selection spear.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 6:18 AM UTC
Stole some fixed verse, from a nicked purse
Drown me in turpentine
Told to react first, and act terse
Barren with no arginine
…
Diluted grape juice poured like nectar
Drips faithfully down to a rat in its cell
Forged delusions, lidless projector
Purgatory bound through this, a stint in hell
Outward embodiment shown as a spectre
Wilted flowering of a southern belle
Bedpost batters, it earns too deep a notch
Piggies arrive too late, they smell of scotch.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC