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"beaneath" poems
Samhain's Eve With Friends The Lady's light is ripe and full and orange so heavy the sky can scarce bear her up as I tread slowly tap tap my staff clicks my feet in their hurry crush sweet maple and acrid fir underfoot and the early evening mist grasps at bare tree limbs like heart broken suiters It's an early celabration Samhain Eve No Matter tis me alone and of course The Lady Slowly I find my stone grove and rest a bit ... price of a Crone No musicians tonight Ah the tape will do well enough No Sisters tonight too far to come obligations trick or treat ... No Matter Circle swept and Caste,Quarters called next all in turn music soft but building insence sweet shrouds me Fire my element crackles and spits with blessed heat Time to steppe the Circle This Dance I know so well This Dance I have taught and danced and dreamt it always Eyes Closed Cleansing Breathe Bells on wrist and ankles chime Now swaying stepping Luna's great course across the sky once this way next reverse slowly gently all recedes there is nothing now but me and She She Morghanna Isis Gaia Mother Maiden Crone My Lady The flute is faint and hard to hear now but the drum is strong heartbeat strong slow and deep suddenly there are voices far yet whysper close so soft full of laughter and secrets ..ghostly hands Sisters past, lost to me and spirits new entwine with mine and voices long forgotten soar So Sweet and my feet so clumsy and slow seem to fly and I hear the flute in the chime of Her laughter She Has Come Welcome My Lady I hear nothing now but the drum and the rush of the wind through my hair The Drum The Sisters The Fire and My Lady Suddenly my step slows no longer is it sure aware of the stones beaneath and my hand blest but a moment ago now feels the loss of my Sisters grasp but we are never far from one another no matter the side of the veil I tire and stop the night has waned the tape has stopped..when I cant recall Never Mind Close the quarters with thanks Sever the Circle Douse the smudge and Thank The Lady for a Samhain's Eve , with friends Solita Arcanes ShadoeWalker 31/10/10
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Jan 23, 2011
Jan 23, 2011 at 2:50 PM UTC
A Samhain Night With Friends
Samhain's Eve With Friends The Lady's light is ripe and full and orange so heavy the sky can scarce bear her up as I tread slowly tap tap my staff clicks my feet in their hurry crush sweet maple and acrid fir underfoot and the early evening mist grasps at bare tree limbs like heart broken suiters It's an early celabration Samhain Eve No Matter tis me alone and of course The Lady Slowly I find my stone grove and rest a bit ... price of a Crone No musicians tonight Ah the tape will do well enough No Sisters tonight too far to come obligations trick or treat ... No Matter Circle swept and Caste,Quarters called next all in turn music soft but building insence sweet shrouds me Fire my element crackles and spits with blessed heat Time to steppe the Circle This Dance I know so well This Dance I have taught and danced and dreamt it always Eyes Closed Cleansing Breathe Bells on wrist and ankles chime Now swaying stepping Luna's great course across the sky once this way next reverse slowly gently all recedes there is nothing now but me and She She Morghanna Isis Gaia Mother Maiden Crone My Lady The flute is faint and hard to hear now but the drum is strong heartbeat strong slow and deep suddenly there are voices far yet whysper close so soft full of laughter and secrets ..ghostly hands Sisters past, lost to me and spirits new entwine with mine and voices long forgotten soar So Sweet and my feet so clumsy and slow seem to fly and I hear the flute in the chime of Her laughter She Has Come Welcome My Lady I hear nothing now but the drum and the rush of the wind through my hair The Drum The Sisters The Fire and My Lady Suddenly my step slows no longer is it sure aware of the stones beaneath and my hand blest but a moment ago now feels the loss of my Sisters grasp but we are never far from one another no matter the side of the veil I tire and stop the night has waned the tape has stopped..when I cant recall Never Mind Close the quarters with thanks Sever the Circle Douse the smudge and Thank The Lady for a Samhain's Eve , with friends Solita Arcanes ShadoeWalker 31/10/10
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58
**Dark Circles beneath her eyes The fire in those eyes now replaced by sadness of knowing too much Of trying too hard** . . *the more she saw, the less she knew the more she tried, the less things worked* She kept restlessly brooding why the world is so raNdom and what if the littlest thing that she did made it fall apart? . . tick-tock (Restless brooding) A girl of 17 never felt safe in her own skin She comes in all the shades of self-loathing (Restless brooding) Living a life of mediocrity Good, but never the best not worth the change in your pocket. (Restless brooding) Centre of the group, her smile was just that contagious Chased by many, understood by none Always loved mystery, maybe that's why she became one (Restless brooding) Red is the color of rust that calms her Jagged cut across her thighs She comes with a self-destruct button and hence pushes away the very thing she likes she wants to decrease the casualities (Restless brooding) Sleep won't come easily to her so she writes and reads that's pretty much her life by the window she cries for the characters whose brokeness resembles her life but if you ask her why she'll evade vaguely (Restless brooding) She increases the volume of her headphones to mute the voices in her head voices which try to drag her to the past a past she'll never get rid of (Restless brooding) with every second that passes by she pushes the world a little more far away but she always smiles so that must mean she's okay, right? Dark circle beaneath her eyes because *she spends her night talking to the stars and conspiring with the moon against the demons she herself has created trying to find the key to the lock she has chained around herself* And one day she will one day she will realise *her light can't be contained and those dim eyes will shine again One day she will not be afraid of being herself even if she does not know who she is yet*
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Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 1:22 AM UTC
**Have you seen this girl**?
**Dark Circles beneath her eyes The fire in those eyes now replaced by sadness of knowing too much Of trying too hard** . . *the more she saw, the less she knew the more she tried, the less things worked* She kept restlessly brooding why the world is so raNdom and what if the littlest thing that she did made it fall apart? . . tick-tock (Restless brooding) A girl of 17 never felt safe in her own skin She comes in all the shades of self-loathing (Restless brooding) Living a life of mediocrity Good, but never the best not worth the change in your pocket. (Restless brooding) Centre of the group, her smile was just that contagious Chased by many, understood by none Always loved mystery, maybe that's why she became one (Restless brooding) Red is the color of rust that calms her Jagged cut across her thighs She comes with a self-destruct button and hence pushes away the very thing she likes she wants to decrease the casualities (Restless brooding) Sleep won't come easily to her so she writes and reads that's pretty much her life by the window she cries for the characters whose brokeness resembles her life but if you ask her why she'll evade vaguely (Restless brooding) She increases the volume of her headphones to mute the voices in her head voices which try to drag her to the past a past she'll never get rid of (Restless brooding) with every second that passes by she pushes the world a little more far away but she always smiles so that must mean she's okay, right? Dark circle beaneath her eyes because *she spends her night talking to the stars and conspiring with the moon against the demons she herself has created trying to find the key to the lock she has chained around herself* And one day she will one day she will realise *her light can't be contained and those dim eyes will shine again One day she will not be afraid of being herself even if she does not know who she is yet*
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68
I am enamored by you. Ships sail from sea to sea, but even that beauty can't beat the unrequited dream of what we could be.
0
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
(feelings lost beaneath)
*Eventhough you know every polaroid picturesque infinity, and every broken strand of every melancholic outpouring memory, buried deep beaneath the debris of the moon and sprinkled with star dust within my soul. You can’t seem to understand the basicity of my humanity. And how much you quietly mean to me.*
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Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC
Bark at the moon.
I remember yesterday in the apartment covered in murals of beautiful eyes and psychedelic mushrooms I see you sitting next to the ac right under the window your sweating because its a hot day in the winter my heart is trembling beaneath this pale skin as I watch how your eyes lift themselves heavily to stare out the window, because you do not want to look in my direction, there is no chair for you to sit on, because I am sitting on the only one, the carpet is stained and you sit legs crossed like a child and again my heart is trembling beneath my pale skin where does your mind come from I assume from years of a malicious father who would come to you and love you deeply after he has hurt you so many times I assume that child that breathes through your adulthood comes from the mother who carried you with her veins who struggled with her husbands pain how could I walk away from you you are a baby in my hands, and how can I abandon that beautiful beautiful scared face lips meet in a place of peace and content understanding beneath trees and all living things our faces touch lightly how can you still be so innocent how does purity flood your hands in such a way that the mere definition of chastity is evolving in my mind I understand nothing anymore I feel guiltless I feel flooded in shame I focus on the lines in your pupils and I am elated with foreign I am in a different land we must go back to our separate homes
0
Jan 3, 2011
Jan 3, 2011 at 11:18 AM UTC
gracefully;let go
Somewhere in the sands of time, I hear the sound of a faithful cry.. from a bird with broken wings who sings "my hope will never die!".. His chances are less than average. He's a candle in a hurricane. Still he bows beaneath the storm and he sings louder amidst the rain. He knows what he'd become if it were not for his broken wings.. He'd probably make a nest of thorns and fill it up with shining things. He might say "I'll sing tomorrow" - But tomorrow might never come.. And the only awful song would be a song that he never sung. And what would he become when his soul no longer sings? So, he sings his songs of gratitude all the more with his broken wings..
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Feb 14, 2022
Feb 14, 2022 at 2:18 AM UTC
Broken Wings
Honestly, I was paralysed Quick breathed, chest choking kind That numbs to the tips of fingers And the bottom of the heart, Feet spread wide apart as if I ever stood a chance of taking the blow. Its stings, bleary eyed I'm blinking and rubbing at the skin, massage the redness away; All that nasty shame and the ridiculous burn of guilt That has me wilting round my shadow. I think I might have seen something, Hints bleeding into the beauty of blissfull ignorance and dulling the gleam, Blinkers just a little skew-wiff To let the light in and shine on your bare *** Going to town between someone else's legs. You dont look half as nice now, Your flesh is pale and hair curls darkly And its gross, like those meaty moans That make you sound like a boar. I can't call her a ***** not really, But shes enjoying herself with the lie of one Screaming obscenities to God As if hed take time out of his Busy schedule to fulfil her voyeristic fantasies, Deity bowing his head to watch You smash into her and smash us to pieces. You're shuddering and shes faking those screams There"s no glee in her eyes, just the simpering emptiness of making you feel like a man. But your not, you're a coward Who's **** is fond of flattery, chases it like a puppy, perking up hopefully to be petted. I dont think I'm upset anymore. I'm out the door and rain falls cool on the ground I'm crunching down the gravel, shedding my committment, It's has a satisfying sound that dies Beaneath my boot as you stumble after me. 'It's not what you think' It's funny because I honestly Hadn't thought anything except I'd never never seem you like that before; Not so raw and pasty And ugly. Maybe you'll meander back into my mind As divine as you have been before But right now I deplore the memory. I dont love you Because I dont know who you are.
0
Jan 23, 2021
Jan 23, 2021 at 12:35 PM UTC
Rose Tint Withered
Honestly, I was paralysed Quick breathed, chest choking kind That numbs to the tips of fingers And the bottom of the heart, Feet spread wide apart as if I ever stood a chance of taking the blow. Its stings, bleary eyed I'm blinking and rubbing at the skin, massage the redness away; All that nasty shame and the ridiculous burn of guilt That has me wilting round my shadow. I think I might have seen something, Hints bleeding into the beauty of blissfull ignorance and dulling the gleam, Blinkers just a little skew-wiff To let the light in and shine on your bare *** Going to town between someone else's legs. You dont look half as nice now, Your flesh is pale and hair curls darkly And its gross, like those meaty moans That make you sound like a boar. I can't call her a ***** not really, But shes enjoying herself with the lie of one Screaming obscenities to God As if hed take time out of his Busy schedule to fulfil her voyeristic fantasies, Deity bowing his head to watch You smash into her and smash us to pieces. You're shuddering and shes faking those screams There"s no glee in her eyes, just the simpering emptiness of making you feel like a man. But your not, you're a coward Who's **** is fond of flattery, chases it like a puppy, perking up hopefully to be petted. I dont think I'm upset anymore. I'm out the door and rain falls cool on the ground I'm crunching down the gravel, shedding my committment, It's has a satisfying sound that dies Beaneath my boot as you stumble after me. 'It's not what you think' It's funny because I honestly Hadn't thought anything except I'd never never seem you like that before; Not so raw and pasty And ugly. Maybe you'll meander back into my mind As divine as you have been before But right now I deplore the memory. I dont love you Because I dont know who you are.
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47
sometimes being happy seems a self-indulgence: you were singing songs from the musical in me, us, sipping sweetened tea beaneath the trees that crazy summer afternoon things I thought but never said to you and things I thought but always said over and over as if nothing else had ever happened to me and the thing I thought when I thought of that was that I thought an awful lot of you
0
Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 8:53 PM UTC
I said,
Everybody wanted to fly. To all my people always wanted to try. We wanted to see the world that lies beaneath us. They wanted to feel how it was. I have cherished you for so long my darling But you came to leave without a warning. Slowly without anybody watching Although that was what you thought,Clearly I was crying. My my,how beautiful was to be on top of everything Feel the cool air on your skin,that was rushing. The veins that savored every blood that passed Just like the woman in the car whose car just crashed. Adrenaline spreading all over my body is inevitable. Like the past is just unalterable. We always wanted to see the world's vulnerability So they flew away,taking themselves a man's superiority.
0
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 2:52 AM UTC
Fly Away
Be careful when you peel your battles Cause some oranges fight back. It all happened while I was standing in a hallway I peeled and orange, and it fought back I stood there trying to get beaneath the skin but it's juice dripped uncontrollably The venom of the peel shot into my eye and I was half-blind as the fight continued I managed to get off a thumb-sized peel it hit the carpet, with a thud just kidding peels don't make noise when they fall but I heard a thud in my mind I gouged out one slice, mangeld, yet juicy and handed it to a boy named Timmy Timmy nodded, and said "This is a good one, definitely worth the fight!" The juice was so extreme it was hitting my head, mid section, arms, and legs with full force Almost beat, but not quite I looked down at my body.. I was thoroughly covered with orange insides This was the last straw, still peel covered, and losing lots of juice... I opened it in half Juice exploded everywhere and my hands were so slippery... the entire orance took its plumet to the carpet The orange fought back, and I didn't get to eat it it saw its happy ending in the trash can Oh how I wanted that orange The orange that fought back.
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Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 2:25 AM UTC
The Orange That Fought Back
Sunset and Sunrise No uncertainty- Just a simple pure Energy; Amongst us All, Beaneath the Ether, Over the horizon and throughout the hills- Here I am comfortably as one With myself.
0
Aug 24, 2010
Aug 24, 2010 at 7:42 AM UTC
Getting By
Come dear night, My veil from all the Dreadful tales of the world As the sun spirals down I welcome you with open arms. Lie with me Beaneath the moon That’s not the least Ashamed to spy on our Little meeting. The silence Left in the wake of dead Seems to be our piece, Our cue for the ball That didn’t happen till yet. Perfect twirls— I can’t help but Feel your loneliness as comfort To me ; The night and I — Perfect companions.
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Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 10:19 AM UTC
Lady Macbeth
I have bathed myself in the clear glittering waters of your love,and rested beaneath the welcoming tree of your spirit.These hands have tenderly held your face and looking deep within your eyes, i've read the silent speech written there. You've been the beacon light of hope, shinning across across all my dark days, my city street oasis, my touchstone, with a love as warm as oven gingerbread. And when holding you in the midst of an evil land, i've held the promise of joy.
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Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 8:46 PM UTC
The Promise Of Joy By Victor Tripp Of Philly
And they say she's 'weird.' They say she's 'different.' They make it sound like a bad thing. Little do they know what is bubbling over, Beaneath the surface.
0
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 11:57 PM UTC
Boiling
In love, in love, and in love again As friend of such a woman A friend who cares, dares to ask where I stand... I stand upon ones heart Cracked moon light spots blotched with hot spots Coarse detachments between your thoughts And my rationale I speak..... Do I speak ? To you ? The truth is so painful.... To you Buried beaneath you and crying hums alone and patched with agony as you trickle away Each day your face.... Sheds it's grace, love - youthful taste and play, I'm a stranger to your soul As I leak my heart on your guarded shield, I crumble to your insistence It's the 'one' Bust their just playing a game Only to play you until you wither away It's clear - their care lasts like the wind
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May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 6:52 PM UTC
Dreamers Dungeon Trap
Are you blind? You're back on the conveyer belt, again. You're fooled by that you see, again. You seem to be getting closer but you're drifting further away. You see hope on the horizon which turns to agony as soon as you get close enough to reach it. You're heart is breaking at the thought of struggle You're depending on the bottle, again. The guzzle is burning your throat as you swallow any chance at revival. Fingers turn to black, lips turn to black, mind turns to black. You're crumbling with the ashes of cigarettes There's no rebuilding broken debris anymore. Hope is sunken beaneath you as you lay drunk on the floor. Miles away from the conveyer belt, again. No going back to where you're headed. No heads or tails to change the situation. No more gods willing to listen. Its over. Don't inhale. Life wasted at the thought of making it but giving up when you get a chance to escape your mind. No press play, fast forward, rewind. No more hands helping you out the gutter You're already buried six feet too deep. Your hands are on your mouth, again Trying to quiet your screams. No ones listening No ones wondering No ones there. You've created this hell for yourself; just lock the door as you leave.
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Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
Untitled
You got a call at 7:42, It was your dad reminding you to drive safely, the clouds were getting darker, covering cobalt blue skies, the ones we tried to sit and admire with bare eyes, but ended up just taking pictures of like we always do. We captured pearly white clouds and softening sunsets, the way I feel with my friends is unforgettable, and even on days where I feel like the pain I feel, the one that reminds me that I miss you still, is spreading through my body like a cancer, one that is too far developed to treat, I am reminded by the grass beaneath my feet, that I have this beautiful planet, I have the sky to myself, I have clouds that shadow when I've had too much sun, and trees that cover when the sky comes undone, and a storm begins to drench us in shame, and I got a call that was not the same as yours. I got a call and heard the word "cancer" and all I could think of was the way the clouds rolled across the sky becoming greyer as the water continued to rise, all at once the green grass lost its hue, and I fell into the Earth as I was consumed by the thought of losing you.
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Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC
Into A Storm//Cancer
And beaneath everything there’s another feeling, the last of them buried beaneath my bones. The feeling of sitting in the dark, alone. Some might see it as peaceful; a place for safe keeping for yourself but it’s anything but that. Instead it is hiding, crawling up into this dark corner because of all the lights flashing at me. They’re transfixing in a way though, these lights. Like the cacophony of moth wings near that one simple light that hangs suspended in the middle of a hospital room. It’s kind of rancid too in a way. On reflection, everybody is trying to dissect me. Dissect me till I am these layers of feelings I store. But nobody can ever reach down enough to this hidden feeling. Everybody wants to tear me apart; but I am only flesh and bone. The only part of me that needs to be torn apart is the one in the darkness, where I am caged and begging to be torn apart.
0
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 11:33 AM UTC
Into this corner I drive
the thing is, you aren't magnificent. my mind isn't laced, with the thought of you. there is no rarity, beaming from behind your eyes; no slight shimmer of a marvel, beaneath the surface of your skin. falling in line with those ahead, and those behind: you bore me. if i was given a chance to pull back, your carefully sealed unexceptional flesh, would i see and feel something, i was unaware you possessed? a tiny glimmer of unprecedented original beauty, an unknown personal outlet exemplifying fearless individualism? ...or would i be disappointed, by the nearly hollow expected interior, singularly displaying a rudimentary *** drive, and the unimaginative blueprints, on how to fulfill it.
0
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 11:11 PM UTC
unoriginal