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pookie Aug 2018
A spiral
A staircase
A long fall

How ever you decend it's always down,
Never do we see the light before we go,
It's forever darkness,
Never do we know what waits for us,
We think we know,
We hope we know,
Never do we get a chance to change our minds,
It's there it's easy once you've made the distance to get there.

What ever we do we decend,
I won't romanticise it it's not a decision we should make yet we do,
I won't tell you to stop because that will push you even harder than before because hell what do I know.

But I will say is this:

My mind is my prison
My body the vehicle I use
My soul the fuel
The decent my escape

Every morning it is there
Every night it welcomes me like a lover
Every time I close my eyes it becons to me
Every time I get up it threatens to pull me down

Yet I stand strong
Resting on the edge
Like running a knife across my throat hard enough to bite but not bleed
A damgours game to feel alive
To feel at all

A decent into darkness
A game we play alone
DISTURBIA
HYSTERIA
FOLDED
ROLLED IN THE BACK
OF MY EYELIDS FLUTTERED BY HAIL
BUT MY EYES DON'T BLINK
DRIED LIKE CONCREAT CRACKED
OPEN
FROM TEARS OVERDONE READNESS
CONTAGIOUS
IN MOUNT OLYMPUS
PALE LIKE*******
IT CONTAINS YOU
LIKE EVAPORATION
I CRAWL WHILE I
SLURR THE LIFE OF MY EYES
LIKE
CHECKING ON INTO IMMAGRATION
BOBB MY HEAD BACK
AND TWIST OPEN THE CAP OF EVERY BLOOD FLOW BEHIND THE SOCKET
AND IT GOES
IT FLOWS
LET GO
LOOSE LIKE A **** TO HER KNEES
PLEASE YOU
ME
INTO YOU
INTO ME
IN MY EYES
STAY OPEN
CAN'T PUT THEM
TO SLEEP
AND SHEEP DON'T COME ROUND HERE NO MORE AND MY SIGHT KEEP SEEING METEPHORES
OF HUMOR FORMING
INTO EVERY TRICK PLAYING OPTICAL ILLUSION
YOU WERE

...AN ILLUSION

CREATING MADNESS
AND THE CORE OF MY HAIR ROOT RAISNG SKIN DEEPINING ICE BURGE SKIN FROZEN
THE BECONS ABOUVE THE SKULL TOP SPITTIN OUT PELE'S LAVA MELTING BURNING
TEARING APPART
THIS MASSACRE OF MY HEART
AND I AM LEFT TO HARVEST
HARBOR
WHAT'S LEFT OF THE UGLINESS IN MY EYE

(INCREDIBLE INK- TEAM JAGUAR HAWAII )
© Copyright 2014 S.T. Parish CSP Rebel of Eden
What life had given me, was worth a lesson to overcome, my blindness.
Elvis okumu Mar 2012
Why do I stay awake at night, though sleep sits there by my side and bacons to me. Why do I simply stay awake at night, when my bones ache from the wear and tear and only wish for a simple, silent sleep. Can I really tell you why, can I confide within you on this night, will you ears accept what I say, will you mind not fight the ideas I am about to put on display. No, no, no, don’t simply say yes, don’t nod your head because your neighbor does so. Don’t just be a simple sheep this lead by the nose, gripped by those ropes of social acceptance? Every day I hear, I hear the cries of wills thrown down, tossed away  simply because it is not cool enough to be yourself.  The grating sound of soo many mind cast down, dropped by the way side like some unknown unmentionable. Such that the body can mozy on down to join the herd. To be led to the slaughter. I hear them, screaming within their minds as they realize where they will end up. I hear them clawing and scratching to try to get away, to save themselves on this day. And yet it has become too late, for them to try and change their fate. This is the price, for that chance to cast those die. This is the price you, pay, to go on to play this game. No this is the price I see, but I cannot afford to pay.  Sometimes I wish I too could join, be led blissfully to my end, be easy and bend to the currents of the times. Look to see those who are outside me, to know what it is I am to do.

To be cool, heh, to be hip, hop, to let go of the purity of speech and include things my mother would be ashamed to hear me say. To let my clothing follow the will of those whose only goal is to take the cash from my wallet. To go and spend the fruit of my labor on things, to be hedonistic to give in to that mystic force of a fad. I wish to enter into that closed room of everyday drama, to be included in that desperate race to no goal, and to heartbreak. But then I see, the needless effort spent on things that don’t really mean anything. I find that my time and mind have far too much to do, far too much to accomplish in this life time. Of which I will only get one, then that is it, done, finished, banished into the void the great unknown. So I can’t you see, I have a place I need to be. No my friend, I cannot bend, for I have something to send. Oh my dear, I musn’t I fear, I am allergic to beer. Really I can’t, I simply can’t.
My excuses pile up, like a mountain top, I am unable to go out and scream and shout. Have fun as they say, drink my sorrows away. For I fear the heavy lash that comes after being smashed. I wonder is the pleasure so great that it stops the pain that comes after its wake.  Is the price of a lung, a brain, a heart worth it just to sit there and say that you are baked. I feel that the stakes are too high, the breaks too painful, the lake too hot for me to even take a simple step. So I remain on the shore, staring longingly.
Whole fully discontent with the lot I have lent myself to.  Then I walk back to my bed wrap my hands behind my head, and stay awake wondering why it could be. What I am missing what the sights I should see. And sleep becons to me. But me I cannot let it lead just yet. For my thoughts have no answers met.
Hal Loyd Denton Apr 2014
In this savage land we call home
There is a pastoral valley that has the richest texture of heaven
This treasured sheep gate becons tenderly says welcome
These hills and slopes the repository of our hopes
The savior poised in their gentle steeps, for the city weeps
Sweet spirit that fills this natural expanse soft as the breeze
Each tired weary soul you refresh with a quiet hush
We are shown the wisdom of not being in a rush
Unseen pillars tower revealing your mighty power
Written on the pillars at the world side is come unto me
On the church side seek the lost at any cost
The Devil expresses defiance the church makes Heaven her alliance
Wayward souls tormented seeking an oasis dying of thirst
Today we fill these pots of clay and determine to go out of our way
Seeking those that hunger and thirst by this Christ we manifest
To the world the church is ghostly not completely visible
It shimmers as though it isn’t real blindly they feel about
In your life they find solid ground clear of the mist
They finish a terrible journey now they feed from all their needs freed
No longer exhausted from continually milling about
The Sheppard stands holy watch and cast a confidant shadow
In this respite feeding and richly nourished they grow strong
Gladness quietly cascades from spiritual hills of splendor
Micheal Wolf Apr 2015
Flames burn where there is no fire, when one loves but lacks desire.
The racing hearts that fire the blood, only to make one night of lust.
When fingers twisted and palms held tight.
When sighs are murmured and souls ignite.
When shouts of pleasure fill a room, Is it love or lusts soulful tune.
When abscent from you do you feel your heart race?
Your heart goes faster as you see their face.
A photograph of one not there.
Does that define how much you care?
When no word from them is spoken, when silence is all you have.
Is that when its over, if it ever began.
So who you think of reading this, is that the face you long to kiss.
Is that the soul that draws to you, becons, calls, oh please be true.
If there again when you awake, that picture in your mind again.
Then did you tell them?
Do they know?
Another day, lost alone.
So seize the day the cold cliche that's yelled as men go into battle
Is no longer what our souls need, this fights more nocturnal.
Embrace the night and hold her tight, If only in your dreams.
For when you wake the daylight brings the dawn of many things.
Hal Loyd Denton Jan 2012
Shadow of Eden

In this savage land we call home
There is a pastoral valley that has the richest texture of heaven
This treasured sheep gate becons tenderly says welcome
These hills and slopes the repository of our hopes
The savior poised in their gentle steeps, for the city weeps
Sweet spirit that fills this natural expanse soft as the breeze
Each tired weary soul you refresh with a quiet hush
We are shown the wisdom of not being in a rush
Unseen pillars tower revealing your mighty power
Written on the pillars at the world side is come unto me
On the church side seek the lost at any cost
The Devil expresses defiance the church makes Heaven her alliance
Wayward souls tormented seeking an oasis dying of thirst
Today we fill these pots of clay and determine to go out of our way
Seeking those that hunger and thirst by this Christ we manifest
To the world the church is ghostly not completely visible
It shimmers as though it isn’t real blindly they feel about
In your life they find solid ground clear of the mist
They finish a terrible journey now they feed from all their needs freed
No longer exhausted from continually milling about
The Sheppard stands holy watch and cast a confidant shadow
In this respite feeding and richly nourished they grow strong
Gladness quietly cascades from spiritual hills of splendor
Kimarie Teter Oct 2014
The pearly gates wideopen
bang goes the drum,
Ring is the fever of the pitch
The bell becons me home
Standing at the face of the dust covered elders
Our wispers sing into decades unbound
Winding up the gentle moss
The northern prayer echoes
Mighty drums mighty lungs
We howl and we yelp from our remembered chambers
Sketching our way thru the vivid lansdscapes
We pause, we sit we see
Breath in the great mother
For her arms await our hurried Souls
Cracking pine rustling trees
We look in awe toward the stars
Today comes another dawn
Tonight brings a golden sunrise
For creator within writes home
Geno Cattouse Jun 2013
Every now and then I see her face
Eyes a carmel caress just like before.
Never been in that way before or since.

I have looked in many faces, nothing
Made me ache and melt.

I could look into her eyes endlessly
I swear, and lose myself .
I wonder if she knew

I was afraid to say
On the chance that it woud change.

When she spoke I hungered for her eyes
When she laughed I hungered for her eyes.
They so mezmerized. I hungered for that too.

Those eyes are gone and closed
I last saw them crying.
She turned and walked away.

What a fool
What a fool in youth.

In dreams I see them slowly dying
Shuttered windows.

The dreams they left me.
Many years have past.
I know my slice of hell exist
In living out my days to miss
Those eyes will never hold me near

Will never be again
Never be my friend
Never hold me.close.
And carress.

My purgatory burns
Softly and becons.
True story.
Astral Jun 2015
Here is the world, under a bleeding moon, silver as the demons songs of the bamboo groves

It sings and dances the eons away, blissfully ignorant to the horrors that happen around

It has the mind of a child, it sees the world with the sun as a beacon of hope, but it only becons chaos

Here is the world, as a yawning dog in the eves of summer, awareness thin to the quagmire spinning eternally
Alex McQuate Sep 2018
Sitting out on the dock,
So late even the bugs are mostly asleep,
Puffing on the last cigarette I brought down with me,
Taking in the brilliance of lake stars,
And the shimmering mirage-like reflections of the resort across the cove.

Two owls conversing somewhere up the lake,
Their soft calls echoing endlessly across the flooded valley's waters,
Forever a part of the lakes empty nocternal orchestra.

Soft laps of water as the denizens of the deep come out to eat,
As the fall breezes begin in earnest,
Bringing a slight chill like an indicator of the winter to come.

The crickets chirping a tune to the spiders as they weave their webs,
As a blinking green light of a lone boat chugs gently north,
A witness to this early-morning delight like me.

Stars so much more visible,
But not quite like what they are in the wilds of the north,
Twinkling becons of long dead planets and age old messages,
Ones that tell us how small we really are.
Mark Apr 2020
(I)

If weary eyes about this classic form
Intake each part; as syllabled before,
Then by such mind here meaning shall deform;
Equal'd the lay of bareness white it wore.
Is time as spare as air is plenty free,
That need bestow deception with what read?
Such reading glass forbids that beauty be
A script of heart; a sight that's better dead.
Yet beats here still and still you lasted long,
Now pity rules behind that centred stare?
To scorn this amateur's own state and song;
Summounting lines with mere a boorish glare?

If here by some of tradegy is true
Then wish you never read, nor wrote it too.

(II)

Enriched upon the riddance of your doubt
Comes comfort you're the old you thought myself,
Now you to fade and shall you fade without
The fame that gifts the older works their shelf.
New beauty now; adds you with further dust;
How knew the wise this antidoting cure:
That pleasures eyes and lets dissolve the rust
And bid this very heart here write her lure.
Yes! She by here account, withholds no lines
But flourish thoughts! Like leaves by April's spring;
That chatter sweet on limbs of sugar pines
In rustling, rapping ode: 'for her we sing'.

By merit due her beauty takes this hand
And writes new love not you in this withstand!

(III)

This poet's eye awakens in her grace!
Abiding treaty's of the sun and dawn,
That sovereign's sight reveal her blessed face;
Entrancing loyal ink that beauty's drawn:
With homage to the Nyx for hue of hair;
There woven rare as silk around a star;
To gently patterned curls of rippling flair
That becons yonder beams from moons afar,
To crystallize her pupils; aqua blue
In clear cut waters found no longer there,
With sensory of sight that pierces through;
Where waiting greets the words of love to bear!

'Oh not another sonnet!' Yet, by three
I have denounced your worth by praising she!
Mark Mar 2020
(I)

Though man with plenty whom proclaim your love
Is love of his, be wary may become,
Of heart; in lesser love and shade of dove;
Compare your potency; mere scratch the sum:
Of radiance, from skill born out the womb;
No quarter moon reflects that mirror just,
Nor sun that wakes in only season's bloom;
In lovelier of loves, year round's a must!
Deservingly, let love let you be you;
And shade your sweet abundance bathed a-bright
Like winds of summer onto beauty blew:
To compliment is love, more than of sight.

Yet if with one whom loves yours less than whole
Then from your love you give, from you have stole.

(II)

Then may you ask where find this love I write;
This poet dreams and dreams so through his make
That ink does spray tho' well, is mere a sight:
The love he raves is poet's stead and sake.
It's not of my deception you're deceived;
Your love has met with foe whom sways belief
In faith, devolved where faith is ill recieved;
Illiterate to love of ink's relief.
Yet still I pen for eyes in deep your realm
Well versed in alpha letters of the heart,
Let I revive this truth imprint that helm:
How beauty dwells within all-loving art!

And you possess love's many forms we hold
So dear and so majestic to behold!

(III)

Not from sweet fantasy becomes my words:
They flow from love, they flow in love to page;
By palpitating beat each two of thirds,
The third I do divulge my lover's stage:
How unaware this rose, of ardent truth
That becons my lips but witholds my tongue,
Renounces age and blooms a brighter youth
That's flutters on my face a bird unsung.
At night returns into my budding chest
And pass the moments by, like wind and time,
No! Poetry in three unveils my zest!
And couplet spill my secret love in rhyme:

My chasm where breath of love does form and brew
Is muse of mine and all of mine! It's you.
Cast away your sorrow
The sun will shine tomorrow
Turn your gaze to the sky
Cast away your trouble
Happiness will double
Dont let the good times pass you by

For in this life
Theres hope
In a little while
You'll cope
All you need is already there

Cast away your fears
Wipe dry all of your tears
Love will lift you high
Cast away your doubt
Show it the way out
All it takes is just to sigh

For in this times
You'll see
Life becons only
You and me
Faith will come to set you free
No more to be but lonely

Know that i will always care
All you need is already there
Already there...
Gr8Ryzyngz Jan 2019
Conversations I can't
Nor do I want to unhear
My gurlz 9 yrs apart
My youngest's curiosity
Becons, ***** what's that
My oldest, a big bowl of nothing
In a funny voice
I'm just so grateful to be
To exist here and now
Their fathers only dream
About moments like these
Yes I am blessed
Being able to raise myself
On many levels
I get to see different
Aspectz of me!
Mommy luv it
Being a parent especially a mom, mother, momma, mommy is no easy fete.  These moments make some of the chaos worth it.

— The End —