"cohabit" poems
To all those that were reading my last piece,'Split personality' I had to take it down sadly after it had trended to a hundred reads in 3 hrs. But I wrote quickly and used the word 'cohabit' without realizing what it implied... you throw that in with 'brotherly loyalty' and the whole piece just reads a lot gay... now, I'm not hating on gay people... I just don't swing that way, wouldn't want my poems to give off the wrong impression... all said and done... I have just had a good laugh at my own expense hahahahaha
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 10:59 AM UTC
drag me down into you
my soul was never a place in which i found comfort; too dark
too empty
but yours will suit me perfectly
let me coexist within you,
our own minds cohabit in peace and warmth
and then run
because you'll find out before long
that all i do is lie
lie
lie
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
They tremble in your wake,
big, claw-footed
in their earth shattering steps.
Huddled mass
a ghostly tsunami
inhabitants of the inky corners,
where you cohabit with the spirits of your songs
heard echoing in the ancient caves,
huddled around your icy campfires
in hopes of shooing the spirits from the door.
The dark ones do a jig at your fears,
dance mightily at your shoulder shaking,
erupt in pleasure
in their superiority.
While you cower--
afraid,
singing your sad songs.
Homage to their victories.
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 9:06 AM UTC
No angels marr my shoulder space
No horns nor wings to find
But yet there are two sides of me
That unkindly cohabit my mind.
Fighting, fighting, constant quarrel,
Both wrestling for command.
No time to take a quick breath in
For loss of reprimand.
A girl and a philosopher,
Not opposites, you see.
I'm in no condition for juxtaposition
Lest subjected to therapy.
The girl is cruel, with a capricious streak,
Unyielding, growling, beast.
Philosopher questions her every say,
Persistant in the least.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 6:17 PM UTC
When the wind blows and ocean tides,
When the night falls and the bat flies,
The light of the moon on the dark skies
The evening bird cooes praise
for The One who provides the grains,
And all races His grace,
No one has seen His face,
Since the beginning of days
Days in their thousands and ones
Every being takes in His breath,
All united in destiny,
To cohabit and coexist,
One for the other
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 12:15 PM UTC
i am unknown.
however i bake
my cake
the quintessence of a fool
is His oven,
or Her
mcguffin...
so
let the heat
play Winter's Thoughts
and arrive
unspooled
before the likes
of me
and my complete
collapse.
I am redacted
from the narrative,
much like -
your reason to breathe -
lurks behind a
myst.
or a fog is a glimpse.
You
you
un-suture
the parabola
from the arch of
all Monte Cristo !
you shank the villain
as villainy is your twin.,,
we cohabit
the one
and split the difference
the same.
from some " within ".
II
much
like thin filaments of music returning to a stream
to bow their heads in the Eucharist of a slit wrist -
we are confluent in the chambers of our undertow
and serve such masters, a world can endure
but hardly love the triumph of the cube
over paisley cubes,
III
i almost say something all the time.
IV
all the Time,
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 9:09 AM UTC
the night is empty and calm and quiet and dead and no animal or human or organism has the want or reason to fill it
somewhere someone and something and nothing at all is dying or is dead and all the silent people and all the silent animals and all the silent organisms will do nothing to save them
the time passes slowly at mach speed and the earth ceases to turn and the people and the animals and the organisms are crushed by the force of the lack of movement
the sun implodes and the universe is momentarily covered in beauty and debris and particles of carcasses before there is nothing of what had and could have been
in a different galaxy and cosmos and timeline the sun shines brightly as it was meant to with no intention to change its routine
the people and the animals and the organisms cohabit earth peacefully having unlocked the secrets of life and death and all in between before and after
earth turns lackadaisically and nothing and no one and no being could ever persuade or force it to stop
the night is full and loud and boisterous and bright and alive and filled with joyful chatter and excited calls and unhurried and unworried din
particles float in space and smash gently together and greet each other with nonexistent smiles and impossible words in unknown languages
asteroids soar by with inaudible how do you dos and vanish before there is any answer or inquiry as to where they plan to go
black holes swirl happily inviting all the particles and asteroids and stars and matter and antimatter and dark matter into their vapid embrace
solar systems cry noisily as their bedtime approaches and fight against the current of time and space and emptiness and nothingness and struggle against the flow
atoms and molecules find romance within one another and bind themselves and break apart and bind themselves and break apart and bind themselves
the stars grow agitated and burst into dull rock and grow agitated and burst into flame until the can no longer explain their agitation and burst into nothing in an enraged fit
just past all the things is a small planet that was in the past and has passed and will pass in the future and is passing right now
and the night is empty and calm and quiet and dead and no animal or human or organism has the want or reason to fill it
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 12:17 AM UTC
My house has seen too many monsoons
deranged doors shrieking in paranoia
The paint is flaky, lost to the elements
Teacups chipped and dusty, spoons bent in telekinetic fatigue
My fans are fans of decapacitation
But there comes a time that
you would like to cohabit this hostile hostel
With someone who is not bitter at the stars
Someone with doorbells and not medieval fortifications
With smiles that warm the winters and cool the Indian heat
I've lived this way for far too long, hiding from the sun
unworthy of someone on the other side of the bed
emotions unkempt, ruffled thoughts and passions raw
Torn smiles and hands skilled at pushing away
Words that shy from affection and the touch of death
I have a house to renovate, I don't know how to make it a home
So I sit on the porch, waiting, till they have had a look inside
Sit, till they decide this estate isn't real enough for them.
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 12:01 PM UTC