"boundlessly" poems
*Like the sunlight forcing its way through a cloudy screen,
and the thunder breaking all silence and serene,
a lotus glowing with its aura in a black swamp,
horses that run free on escaping from men's camps,
a butterfly struggling to break its cocoon,
a lion hunting in the feeble light of the moon,
a wounded tigress defending her cubs and enduring all pain,
the birds slowly reaching their nests in the treacherous rain,
nature shows us the path to follow,
how to deal with life when it seems hollow,
make a stand for what you believe in,
stand up for it, never to cave in,
struggle is the beauty of life,
seeing someone break the limits of mind and body is a lovely sight,
when you can expand boundlessly do you feel free,
when you can write a poem without a topic do you feel free...*
Aug 12, 2010
Aug 12, 2010 at 2:40 AM UTC
My hand and gripped hair
The threats?
"I CAN rip you out, I just CHOOSE not to."
Is is fear, despair, madness, loathe?
The answer is empty of meaning.
What is known would be ignored,
as all said seems true,
but fake.
Boundlessly vain.
silly,
worthless;
doubtful.
What am I looking for in this effort?
I know.
I see.
I hear.
I believe.
One thought twigs into another.
I even wonder if the ocean can breathe.
Breathe life into me.
Aliens don't exist,
but nightmares and demons do?
A problem,
unwanted.
A result,
unwanted.
An answer,
only a lie,
....
unwanted, unwanted, oh so unwanted.
I scream inside,
and every inner glass is shattered.
I yell,
"Notice of Insanity Uprising!"
They yell back,
"That's Life."
Upon those words I numb my mind,
I release my grip.
I let go of everything.
MY face: gone
MY body: gone
MY hope: gone gone gone
Anything and everything that was me leaves,
and my body becomes a cadaver.
Drifting side to side,
in and out.
It's more calm now though.
My mind is no longer driving me crazy.
For we have reached our destination.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
i worry about you
(more than you know)
i see the decisions you make
(all the things you've done
that you'll soon see were mistakes)
do you know who you are?
(i don't think you do)
you're boundlessly wandering,
trying to find something (anything)
to mask your pain
i know
you know
that how you're living
will never quench
your thirst
i know
(deep down)
your soul is pleading,
"please, someone save me
from myself."
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 5:09 PM UTC
***Creatively enticing,
profoundly sensual
boundlessly experienced,
cryptically presumptive
inordinately exclusive
effusively lavished,
anesthetized or blatant
allusive beyond ethereal,
metaphorically inferred
criminal insanity
disquiet midst agitation,
peaceably surrendered
illustriously polished
or indubitably raw
fruitful to a fault - -
in reciprocity's glory be
quenches thirst,
satiates a hunger
flourished midst ink's
designed grandeur,
poetry never fails to thrive,
tripping the light fantastic
in its exuberant offering***
Seize the power
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 7:22 AM UTC
Waned and weary with only toil and trouble
my limbs could only travel this journey tired. .
In my head to in my mind
-which coincidentally were not the same thing-
thoughts seemed to expire from the zealous fear found in your gaping wide darkness of speech.
My serenely spiritual soul's mythical secret shadow sparkled as a jewel:
Boundlessly black but brazenly beauteous by day, but by night,
my mind mentioned masses of decoratively hung ghastly gossip,
secretively shushed into silence
never
ever
to be a quick quiet find for any of us.
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 2:36 AM UTC
There’s something so comforting
In trading in everything
The taking and giving
Of motherhood
What does it mean to be whole?
Shifting your insides around an additional soul?
The pain and the toll
Of motherhood
How to express
The vastness of universes
Alongside the mundane
Of getting dressed in the morning?
There’s something so absolute
Something so boundlessly true
In the brown of the root and the red of the fruit
In the green of the shoots
Of motherhood
Nov 13, 2023
Nov 13, 2023 at 8:49 PM UTC
My friends ask me why, I no longer take time,
to take pencil in hand, to draw what’s in my mind,
or to put it on canvas, with paintbrush in hand,
though I’ve tried to explain, they just don’t understand.
So I simply reply, “I now paint on a screen,
or I paint on computer, with words and a theme,
and I use what’s inside me, to bring words to life”.
with a spectrum of colors, they are just as precise.
Their only reply is, “But you are far too good!”
You can’t put your art down! If only I could…”
Still they can’t understand, nor could I in their place,
that the freshness of art, has since gone with no trace.
To make art with pastel, no longer conveys,
what I felt was important, what I wanted to say.
I no longer enjoy, art’s gestation and birth,
it no longer brings joy, only pain for its worth.
But the pen gives us strength, just as mighty as all
of the art that we see, on the gallery walls.
Each image on paper, with the picture complete,
is boundlessly infinite; each image unique.
There may come a time, when I’ll take up my brush,
to paint what I see, to the canvas I’ll touch.
But for now, I’m contented, to write how I feel,
to paint with my writing, and to share all I see.
Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 9:15 AM UTC
she was the right girl.
those one in a million catches
those who would stay up with him
no, for him
in those nights where sleep wasn't on his side.
it's still amazing
because they didn't exactly complement each other
but their individualities were so boundlessly powerful
that they managed to draw closer, somehow, some way.
but it was the wrong time.
he was still an immature boy
who took for granted
the gem in front of him
and continued searching for the little things
that should have never mattered at all.
and now, as they have turned
from friends to mere strangers
he regrets it
as he recalls their conversations
their moments
he holds them close to his heart
and remembers them as he writes down this poem.
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 12:40 PM UTC
I wish to impart my mind on a page
When I observe the stars and the sea
Then think I of the world as a cage
And dream I to live boundlessly
Free of convictions to which I sang along
Untethered from the maternal cord
Shed I this skin, what was right is now wrong
No need to preach anymore of the Lord
Sundays are for my heathen's slumber
The world, undiscovered possibility
Books will I read, absent of number
And live as Observer with no eternity
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 1:41 AM UTC
as a butterfly
fleets the cocoon
vivaciously flying
towards never land
I love, love
don't let time
turn silent
the answer I find
forever in your eyes
I love, love
dive in with my fate
as an infinity
speaking softly
from what you feel…
when you're with me,
and when you are alone in flight
looking for your journeys
end
I love, to love
I sit in meadows
fresh, vibrantly green
creating shapes of
the cotton ***** above
I love, to love
breeze tangos with
my hair gently
sun illuminates you
while fluttering by
I love, to love
my heart twinkles
at the thought
never to cease
blissfully fulfilled
boundlessly intertwined
confidently whispering I love
you
I love, love...love, to love...love you
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 4:42 PM UTC
I am feeling absurd. I had this tinge of shyness in my chest not before; but now I cannot bring myself to fail it. I am quite on the edge of the danger of falling in love again, yet I am anything but regret it; I am, again, devouring its marvel with the tenderest hopes of seeing him every time I venture out of my grounds, and into the winter's raging scenes. Oh, how unfortunate! I have savagely fought it - hurling myself against his image so that it would be crushed and carried out of my mind, alas, inexplicably, towards nothing but misfortune! As if fate hath once again decreed my hearty unrest by this punishment. Punishments no-one could ever come to deny: the sacred desires of loving, and the foremost comfort from the touches of affection. Oh, how I am again imprisoned in this silly infatuation! I might as well be a kid to him; he is unreachable, I am a yellow light beneath his illuminated sky. He is unapproachable; yet he is as sweet and tender; with charm as adorable as the falling snow. Once I could not slaughter the hilarity of his doings; yon picture kept breathing on my mind; torturing it boundlessly with throngs of witty jests! Oh my love, free me of this inherent misery: free me and carry me into the idleness of thy world; and rock me there. Silently in tranquility; I would embrace and endorse my love for thee; how long I to bestow this kiss on thy redolent dignity.
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 1:46 PM UTC
the magnified, mascara applied
eyes of my skull
burn holes in my thighs
mulling over the size of this hull
i chunder my lunch and wonder of
everyone else
and if they're also laser beaming love
into themselves
or if they're boundlessly born with it
unstained smiles, strained bites
maybe they're just born with it
no pained bile or insatiable appetites
either way, i hardly
can infer
if my stomach is
half empty
or half full
Sep 9, 2024
Sep 9, 2024 at 11:08 PM UTC
It's late at night when you realize she's not the one you loved,
or anyone for that matter.
It's late at night when your mind,
a towering serpent of indecision and malnourishment,
a rushing stream of water from the broken end of a fire hydrant,
tearing through steel and ice cubes that litter a middle age class of numeral reunion,
discover the over-keyed lock where metal bends and screams.
Covered in flies and rice,
it retains its bondages, exchanging freedom for self-loathing,
Dirty-dying in single file,
a honey-gilded tune not thrice too soon.
I seek the corridor where my true love will wait for me,
breathing me in, yet the cane of a blindman.
A clopping corridor, sleek and cobblestone,
artificial and vast, astral.
My true embrace will be that cold one of death, knocking at my door,
pleading my friendship,
sapping from me ***** and calloused hands.
A wet kiss on the nose, a reddened tongue.
I don't know the latitude of my existence.
I can't feel the reality of my throat,
of the gushing and the breathing of winds,
blocking the eternal stream of air.
The currents broke, and from within blew a heavenly melody,
that pierced cold ears boundlessly.
Again, that same street.
Lit faintly from above and from the participants in its ritual.
They burn the wax together.
And they sink,
O paradox!
Together, with their victories of mental triumph,
they recede further into torment and inefficiency,
quantified and numerical,
arrange themselves by merit and consequence.
Again, they sink and plummet and fall,
deeper into wonder and beauty.
Until it abandons them and spills over the edges,
splattering the circumscription,
dabbing alligator skin and sunglasses.
Inspecting the damage done,
he lifts from within its belly a tattered and worn skull,
that of a Man, no less.
Rusting in the desert, alone and among his gods,
bone-dry plains and dunes of dust,
rumbling agelessly the shaken scared earth.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 1:06 AM UTC
I secretly loved you for so long
My love
You gave me new life
Your deep, dark eyes
Made me drunk on our first trip to the wilderness
I wandered everywhere to seek solace
All I found was your sweet love
Echoing from the mountains
The valleys, the rivers, the trees
Our love was not of this world
Yes, it was sent from the stars
In the remote corners of our memories
Don’t we still remember
being with one another
in a previous thousand lives?
I am not new to you
You are not new to me
I am here once again for you
Just as you came once again
calling my name
looking for that face
That heart that only beats for you
Do not ever leave me
We are two bodies but one soul
One cannot survive alone
How can we live without each other?
Love precedes all
We have come to this earth perhaps
after thousands of years
Languishing, waiting for our return
In my shadow, your shadow dances
We live to uplift one another
We live to just love
There is no ending in such love
Only new beginnings
Tears flow boundlessly
Such is the beauty of this passion
The moments that we have shared
Our glory, our taste, our smell
Your skin and mine
Indistinguishable
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 1:57 PM UTC
Like the back of a cart during the bubonic plague,
I’d have to say a dead mans story is long,
But very vague,
As we learn little from the lessons of history,
We treat is as an obsolete and unsaid sort of mystery.
The difference between black and white,
A bird in seat or flight,
A tense and dangerous human right,
As if as much as we can see,
Is the boundary of our site;
If we treat each other as we would like to be treated;
Why does a teacher tell us to remain seated?
They don’t say sit back and relax in any context,
Instead they emphasize not to use bad words or obscene text.
Am I not allowed to tell you to sit down?
Tell you I owe you nothing but a respectable frown?
I owe you nothing but decency,
Not a mind filled with verbs in which I hope others translate boundlessly.
To say I sleep with a pillow,
Is like saying I steep tea like I reap benefits from the luxuries,
Of today’s modern cars and inventions.
To assume I immorally influence a young child in growth,
Is like assuming I don’t walk the sidewalk to remain safe,
From the wind of wild traffic to my left and to my right,
Or to say we don’t disobey ancient conventions,
In which mankind is barred from flight.
Between SpaceX and NASDAQ,
And the jealous old man named NASA,
“Good Wall Street” ain’t looked at,
As the media keeps its mind where its eyes remain fixed;
On the flaws and the findings,
The wars and the signings,
The fear of dead children whose pics we find blinding.
The new Rules of Engagement,
Angers militaristics in danger,
Of bullets and shrapnel they volunteered to go face;
They are angry at the awareness created by J. Assange,
When ****** was collateral damage, to which they are fond;
It’s strange, as truth is now treason,
And a man needs a reason,
To liberate information we deserved in the first place,
Yet our apathy, indifference, and anger at ourselves,
Commits us to a stage of denial within book-shelves,
Inside which we fear ‘it,’
We fear ‘them,’
And ‘their’ ****
Yet we hallow the ground in our mind in which we hide action;
For we fear that we’ll be charged for our thinking’s infractions.
Please reassure me that I’m free,
And that I am my own faction.
Dec 12, 2010
Dec 12, 2010 at 4:22 PM UTC
I love you
boundlessly
beyond the notion of time
where life is measured through our moments together.
I love you
with a steady heart, amidst a flurry of change and compromise.
I love you
to your darkest of deed, with a shining naivety.
I love you
wholly;
in mind and body and breath.
I love you truly enough,
so that you may love me with lies.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
Your hands are soft,
They grip firmly on my hips and
your eyes are fixated on my...
My everything
You move boundlessly and complete me effortlessly...
your groans give me certainty that your satisfaction is profound
And in my last gasp for air before I relinquish all the power from my body,
My nails dig into your back and my legs curl around your waist for support.
We are one.
Dec 22, 2019
Dec 22, 2019 at 4:42 PM UTC
I am your Mighty dragon from within
boundlessly
hopingly
knowingly
I sour above this
maddening crowd
Trying to protect my lady
Guyums soldiers come
he wants to steel her beauty for his own
her soul is made from gems so pure
Diamond pools surround her palace
Great dragon of spirits protects and
surveys all she has created
Woodships wait to sail
fairy maidens their wings do polish
Hobbits and men come forth
ready for the battle to come
avatar
man of my own breathe
Be beside me
love will quench the fire and
storm that rages on the other side
The salt celler is full
go sprinkle around your havens
protect we must from the dark priest
White stallons take thye knights and
warn the great lord of our arrival
I need the help of the bright side
The walls will come come down
before the night turns to dawn
But
beware false prophersy
for it is sure to blind thee
and trust no one until you return to the fold
Be gone now from me great warriers
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 8:47 AM UTC
You took me by surprise
A night in endless February breathing cold whispers down my neck
I shook and watched the lights sparkle lives of curious strangers and thought of your eyes
You were not what I expected
Not what I imagined
But still all I wanted
You were not rambunctious
Not common
But still infinitely fascinating
You took me by surprise
An evening surrounded by the hums of conversation and the constant smell of milky earl grey
I relaxed and watched wordless gestures indicate what a voice could only dream and thought of your lips
You were not what I expected
You were not dull
Not smiling
But still boundlessly thoughtful
You took me by surprise
A twilight setting heated with anticipation and light string violins weighing the room into silence
I beamed and reached my eyes to the parade of tuning winds that put poetry to shame and thought of your hands
You were not what I expected
You were not slight
Not sympathetic
But still continually passionate
A question I ask over and over
A problem I assumed I could solve
You took me by surprise
You were not easy
Not simple
But hopelessly loving
A tired Tuesday morning that quivered without energy and left me stained bloodshot eyes
I yawned and covered my iris with layers of skin as countless voices called names and I thought of your heart
You took me by surprise
You were not a flame
Not a friend
But an eternal companion
Whom I pray my years of memories are kind to
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 2:11 AM UTC
You penned an unsealed note to yourself,
Its Writer, Verse and Address were as one -
A Wholly Poetic Trilogy.
You were brave:
Left your paper-lips wide open and
Let the letters leak;
Watched them run
Into the grooves of the creased spine
On the back of the pushed envelope you posted -
Wounded origami angel wings
Sprouting from the shoulders of your scripted self.
You feel you were delivered to your pretty little house face-down,
Desperate to fly but tied by glue to some side-table surface,
An ornamental cardboard carrier-cherub,
Smiling in the furnace,
But unable to breathe...
I read through the words you tattooed on to your feathers
Again and again,
From their bold beginnings
To their ruffled dead-ends...
...ends which say:
..."Stuck"...
Behind a parchment-brick wall...
That's why I've picked up my pen -
Cracked it open,
Moulded its cascading ink into a ladder,
So we can climb over
And look at what's on the other side
Of that stoney-faced page -
See, its edges came unstuck:
While you nested, and rested your eyes
Your vertebral quill was effortlessly flapping,
Whipping up a written wind with ease,
Like second nature,
A cathartic breeze
Mutating the rock you carved on
Back into a leaf once more,
And turning it over...
Letting it hover and settle anew.
Now it's a hive of technicolour graffiti,
Not a dead-end
But boundlessly alive -
It shines and thrives
With designs
Voluntarily plucked
From the lucky minds you've touched.
They bustle decoratively across its columns,
And among them is this reply:
You are now, always have been,
And always will be:
Not just the Writer, the Verse, and the Address...
...But all the happiness you inspire in others too...
Because of who you are in writing,
Because of who you are in life,
Because of you.
See, that Wholly Poetic Trilogy,
It needs its Fourth Wheel to become Holy,
To roll and rumble towards
And crash through
The gates of that pretty little cage.
So, mould your beautiful ink into a key -
It plays a minimalist melody,
A ringing note of ignition.
Push it,
Turn it...
And let's drive.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 10:58 AM UTC
*I lay, of my own volition, in a space meant for her:
a confined and achromatic scene.
My hands, malodorous, muddy and splintered,
leisurely rest on my chest, free from labor machines.
Here I rest, hackneyed and discouraged
in a pitifully human attempt to simulate death
I curse my virtue; it chastises back as it
mourns the curious exploitation of my health.
It was meant to last only a minute,
as sorrow chains my putrid despair in place.
Yet I, to this day, cannot begin to explain
how the darkness manifested itself a face.
I attempted to strike a movement but remained still
as the daemon began to smile.
The plan was to endure without oxygen for seconds,
yet the creature stayed my conscience for a while.
In a surprising and trepid consternation,
I find myself in service to mendicancy.
The creature, a devil with venetian red oculi,
salivates at its newest and prized delicacy.
I cry at the fleeting mastery of my faculty,
yet the tears remain inattentive and departed.
Time blesses the creature with a dominant sentence
as reality registers a dialog that I had started.
“Where is my daughter? I demand to know.”
The creature’s smile grows ever wider.
He then takes the form of the stuffed turtle toy
that used to sleep right beside her.
The creature, in a droning and unmelodious voice,
utters a perplexing, yet commanding noise:*
“ATIV ARETLA NI MAN ES ED OLEF”
*Frightened yet discouraged, I aim to find the sense
in the puzzling command the creature produced.
“She’s been missing for days! I need to know where she is!”
The beast speaks again, letting its anger loose:*
“FELO DE SE NAM IN ALTERA VITA!!”
*Suddenly, albeit boundlessly, the stillness was lifted,
and my structure was free from this tenebrous stead.
I raise myself and clasp at the summit’s precipice
after having danced with a beast in this wooden bed.
The vacant coffin remained pristine,
fitted with natural calico cotton lining.
The devil you fear the most is the one you create
and mine emerged with impeccable timing.
The creature’s malevolent ballad persistently tattles
as The Lapse rebroadcasts the “truth” it wanted to utter.
It had told me, “Become a felon of oneself,
and thine own life shall be traded for another.”
I refuse to concur with the creature’s decisiveness
as my unyielding faith will ensure my daughter’s return.
Her weighty and boundless absence must cease
and lead to the terminus of my inexhaustible concern.*
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 6:57 PM UTC
The loving , work horse
Strong heart , over flow
Loving the earth so deeply
Loving the earth so completely
He is driven daily
To plow his Love
furrow after furrow
Day after day
As he pushes heart into soil
In his daily toil
Generously carried softly
A surrendered humility
Our conflicting desires
Causing internal fires
Minds torn apart
Twisted and contorted
But like wild horses
We set all free
Flying high like a bird
Relaxing , letting be
As all will inspire
So just watch
This explosive aspire
A horses purity
A crystal clear clarity
As desires from
Their master drift
Blissfully , shine brightly
As connections run deeply
And he loves his
Fathers earth to
As he share his masters grief
For all his poor harvests
So ears placed on his crown
The horse listens intently
For directions from above
And ridden horses feel
For nudges in the gut
As all horses enjoy
The blissful atmosphere
Created when their fathers
Wishes are fulfilled
As they both melt
Into a gentle repour
Boundlessly trusting
Giving themselves
Softening , striding
Physically carrying
Emotionally supporting
Integrity and honesty
As many trumpets play
Flashing lights dance a ray
As accidents happen
They listen and listen
Reestablishing connections
As they are always
TRUSTING
People and horses
Boxed in by life
Enclosed in tight arena's
Great pressures to jump
Deep urges to escape
But all jumping horses know
Freedom is not a
Horizontal choice
An option to run out
But a vertical belief
To jump what ever is front
As freedom is found
In the expression
Of unlimited self
The horse beauty
Is in its ability
To give generously
Surrender and listen
As he finds freedom
By working with and
Not Against higher forces
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC
Supine, I sonder...
all syzygies and cromulent salons.
Stalking inlets, outbound.... surrounding swathes of
simpletons and awkward savants.
Sublime, I bombinate blithely... babbling
oblique begonias -
abloom... beyond barbarous gardens.
I tune my loom to weave
a wondrous garland -
the envy of every Harvest Moon
eclipsed...
[ and beg no pardon ]
As The Aurora
of our angular momentum
aptly allude to our diluvian droughts.
boundlessly departed
from all dominion... Like -
a dessicated deluge
dormant at the heart
of an epibenthic
pearl of dew.
I slake my thirst at
the First Well...
desolate of mirth.
yet ever at
peace.
contiguous in the extreme.
Supine, i sonder....
stitching my
brother's shadow
to the heel
of my odyssey.
My Wilderness
complete... when I go
missing.
[ where i oughta be ]
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 12:02 AM UTC
What else is there to life
if there aren't any
ups and downs?
if there isn't
happiness and misery
*one moon, one sky
a bridge to all*
If there isn’t a negative
there can never be a positive
and remember
two negatives are a positive
*shining boundlessly,
never shying its face
never afraid to be seen
though at times
it becomes blocked
and other times
it's brighter than ever*
But when you think about it,
how does that make any sense
if two people pass on
it doesn’t make anything better
for those they left behind
*my moon, is your moon
we will always be together*
No matter what
it is always there
life won't always be comforting
but what’s worse
is when you make it harder
When you try not to face reality
no matter how much you endeavor
no matter which way you look
the moon will always shine
Aug 12, 2012
Aug 12, 2012 at 3:43 PM UTC