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For Carl Solomon

I

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the ***** streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night, who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz, who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated, who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war, who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull, who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall, who got busted in their ***** beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York, who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and **** and endless *****, incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between, Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind, who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo, who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford’s floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi’s, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox, who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge, a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon, yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars, whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement, who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall, suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark’s bleak furnished room, who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts, who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars 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boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars boxcars
Ken Pepiton Jan 2024
Many inputs say Mondays are common,
but one input says this Monday is uncommon.
We are to be the judge of that.

This is the Monday when you appear,
as reader dear, ready to reason with ghosts
amusing each other with wishes doing pirouettes
as angels may be imagined doing on pinheads,
spinning, or kicking in chorus line choreography.

The elderly nobody imagines the scene,
and makes it seem a vision, something seen,
after the finest sieve - pulling pin wires

snipping whimseys, making mites for widows.

------------ The Government's about to change,
wanna bet, whose got money on whom,

leave the room… vacate the judgment hall,
we are all here, to judge me, last call
all the outs are in, all the ins are intimate,

and we have made all the seed we could,
in word and deed, and we chose to leave
the edges un mowed, so critters can live,

when we can understand our own words
and read other languages using them,
these words are as living things imagined,

said and known, at once, in Housie or Hindi

whatsoever we can envision and project,
we may elect to try to do, or we may do
using words alone,
we think as one
mind,
so now we is I, we is not royal,
we is eloheemishical. Us big good being.


Watcher what of the night?

----------------------
Two geriatic puppets duke it out
for the FOOTBALL
News is all reruns.
Making war for pay,
money makes it work,
gotta love it, gotta love it.

Any reason for killing for,
gotta love it, real deal love it,

steal from the rich to become
richer, Lord knows, war's reason,

come now, let us reason together,
let us cogitate clarity of conscience,
with science standing in for knowledge,
the whole truth, once told, whole knowing

all things working together with reason,
for those in the blooming gnosis realms,

where augmented intelligence forms
teams of knowing hidden reconnectors,
citizen band geeks in the olden days
breaker, breaker, let the learned agree,

we lived just in time to see it all work.

In older olden days…
Messages were carried, at current
stretch of the imagination speed, by slaves…

Writing letters was…
different, I suppose, or
propose, positionally different,
sup and pro posals posed as statu'es,
forms of former founders of the orderly
clusters of human compliance called nodes,
junctions and interchanges, whither all roads lead.

Edu-pre-gogy-ology **** bang,
mechanical thinking in the subconscience science
used auto responsively,
finger aiming quick **** experience, wired below
the will, deep down to predator macrophage stage,
running id scans on the ego accepting wedom hero role.

The sole survivor, from ten thousand stories repeated
trillions of times by now, exoterror faces esoterror,

children led to mindless aliegiance to the flag,
and to the given republican form
of labor management,

had the heros of history
had my tools, perhaps sense had been made easy,

but this is the future, tense
I have, for a modest sum, any course of andragogy,
mankind mind leading, post child mind pedagogy,
- repeat not in vain taking my name, say true
- memory for song is long as all that

among canine species, we see breeds.
among human species, we see types, types for tasks,
intuitive doers of certain things magnificently, once

often, relatively, often
in the process of time, unique tasks.
Ever canonical, global and beyond, true wow
Onesies
Single mortal lifespan tasks, centered self aware tasks,
rockstar, base baller, foot baller, tackle, center, guard,

sergeant major, permanent noncommissioned officer,
loyal to the letter, let us assume, a military mind,
holds all response react ready reading inclination
to check for polisemy snuck in under humor heresy,

whose spirit is stirred up when fans are frenzied,

where do the emotions go, after the connection
to the whole aspect of prowess in team leadership
leaves the bubble of we the fans, become me,
alone and unwilling to ever cry wolf again…
-que sera sera
my side won, my times done
being, as a man with no real job,

they pay me for surviving crazy,
that's how this magic pen is driven.

Of course, in the course of human events,
this stage of peace enough and time enough,
shelter enough and sustenance enough,

centering, any whole self requires more knowledge
than had been made plain using words
in agreemental treaty
form, easily entreated,
as wisdoms are,
so you know what the adverse position is, and why
or why not, good or no good, workable or not,
doable or not, whatsover we agree,

as touching anything,
in all the sense ever fit
to touch, the initiates recognosis
sense the essential lies all being judged
in your heart,
gentlest touch, truly superlative softest

Public heart, common stander at the anthem, hoo yah
rah and all, good citizen soldier ever ready, to imagine

your part in the billions of parts is perfect
for one task, Life given, your one deed,
who says? Fate from the exoterica available to boys,
and girls who seem allowed to mind wander, some how

reading children, book reading children, in homes with
gigabit wifi and
dads and moms and
grand parents who lived
through historical moments.
  
Selah, long breathers, long now,
times proof recollections written
on the tables of my prayer's heart,
I prayed for one of the kind that works
instant in prayer, ask and eventually, find.

The process of time, see, seems invisible.
Perfect, facere specifically just right to be you,
dude, man, joker, street wise desert gawker, you

lucky, you live in a world where words are animated,
via actual Starlinking thinking come to pass
in proces of time since I was
preschool, a kid, child from the escaped goat clan,
mindshapers begin at the ******, confusion,
is common enough for first borns, nobody knew,
really, you can imagine, the cravings,
but confusion is not disconnection,
and no disconnect to knowledge
becomes immortal hell zones.

oh, my god, why, and
then, an elderly man with mottled skin,
sun squint wrinkles around slit smiling eyes,
bemusing the unbeguiled
amused at his appearance, a'knowledges knowing

With a re-coknowing Nod, to the east,
we are so far from where stories start forming leaven,
we merely imagine many long unthinkable things,
habits lost in ritual performance, character act-or,

no need to change a thing, that guy, that person,
that could be me, I have done that same dumb thing,
or watched it done while doing nothing
time and again, get lost in genre and find myself
wondering in wonder land
wonder woman world  of my own
imaging, imagining
living words between us, intimate, most in, inest most
crowd of witnesses,
reading right minds left letters better left than right read
clunk chunk
encoded news from the superlative zone, grand canyons
filled with technical debris and useless superlatives
clicks from children who know what discern means
are subsiding,
slipping under the wave,
trending sense first your worth,
before you accept a bid for your attention,
if you know this line of reasoning, having been
this far
before, as a thought, forethought
-breathe knowing now more than ever
knowledge inside intimates attain
to thorough patient word
redemption and restoration to full
polisemy parallel -all el, par excellence, a we
awe
form. Wind shapes form of spirits, tried, true.

Mind thing first reading each letter,
finding the evolved pen much to my liking,
fluid forms meander, and sigh, and sometime,
puddle to ponder surface reflections,
seeing some wishing for simple,
while we all know we are a ways after simple

this is sub-limity. Lowest ever so far. Look around
nothing needs to be secret at the bottom of it all.
If you don't like the style, I understand, some people come with clipped attention spans, gotta love em.
Christian Jan 26
I’m scared.
Scared of everything.
Waking up,
Going to sleep.
Falling in love,
Falling out of it.
Traveling the world,
Leaving my bed.

I’m scared.
Scared of everything.
To make new friends,
To miss out on connection.
Trying something new,
Leaving my comfort zone.
Risking it all,
Playing it safe.

I’m scared.
Scared of everything.
If everything is scary, nothing is?
Greg Piegari Dec 2020
I never thought I’d ever meet my person.
In my world you simply didn’t exist.
Then it happened,
Separated by invisible boundaries,
we pushed and we persist.
And now being away from you is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
But the connection I feel makes me smile.
Because with that
We will always overcome
Every struggle and each and every **** Mile
LuLu Apr 2015
Intoxicated in his embrace
His succulent lips so bitter sweet
Sinking into waters uncharted
Baring all in sensual defeat

Innocence is not invited
This seduction is wild and free
A kiss of temptation awaken a seductress
His hunger to taste her he could not foresee

No words have to be spoken
Touching with taste a canvas of greed
The flesh, so eagerly awaits its greatest fortune
Bodies of fire beg and plead

A connection that could never be fathomed
Two souls joined together are now one
The deepest core of their beings united
As love and lust become undone

The deepest of oceans has been discovered
Smoldering passion spreads like a disease
This ****** danced has drowned all senses
Two beings so feverishly please

Heartbeats pound uncontrollably
A cherished flower  devoured with ease
Two worlds collide in climatic unison
As wandering fingers continue to tease

The fruit is no longer forbidden
The hunger is not ready for flea
Yearning for more this night is not over
For in each others arms is the other key
Sensual
Nebek Wormer Apr 2015
I'm not sure if I can go on, but
then what would be the point of living?

Living? What is it that I even live for?

What is my purpose?

Where do I stand in this World?
And what will my place be as the years goes on?

It doesnt make any sense to think of the future,
as it is, unexpected, so what must I think about...
The past? Been there done that, no way to go back...
.  .  .

Surely...
This process of self awakening must be outside the realm of thoughts...
Outside the world of my mind...

No longer will I sit and ponder
I will look for every opportunity to live in the present
...to find what I am looking for
...to establish purpose
...to establish my place in this world
...to establish peace of mind
...to establish a connection so loving and blissful to the
divine

P............S.........to establish my eternal happiness

Sincerely yours,
J.......H.........
Audrey Lucille Oct 2013
Who is she,
They would ask
A cynical gothic *****
Who is she,
They would ask
A girl looking for attention
Who is she,
They would ask
Someone who is different and not afraid.

Walking down the hallways at school, people always stare, only because they are afraid to be more than just a walking billboard.
Given **** about speaking your opinions, and given harsh judgment for being open minded.
Who are we now? We are greater, because only in the future finally we stand up and say, "no this is not ok."
No more torment, and no more pain and suffering. Who are we now? We are more generous, because the way we dress does not effect our emotional connection to things. We are not walking billboards.
Jimmy Desire Mar 2016
I have this love for writing on this thing.
no mess on it
just flow
as the director intended so
another production of Desire Enterprises
lacking the basic exercises
but what’s a better time than now
because as I’m sure I’ve said before
“Practice takes patience
and patience takes practice”
no hesitation brother you’ve just got to attack it
so once again let me introduce myself to this
sweet sweet addiction.
Usually barricaded  
by the walls of my mind
see lately I’ve been learning to evade them
been taught to look beyond them four walls
for what I believe may contain my train of thought
so I’ll reach new horizons
I’ve learned the many ramifications of living within my comfort zone
and know nothing of the boundaries outside it
like standing up on stage and presenting my craft
no strength in my foundation like I’m about to collapse
freaking out remembering Rigley’s reminder to get a grip
even when you feel like you’re about to slip, take a breath
Speak each word carefully, Make ‘em feel each one you spit
Lord willing I’ll do just that, shoveling up little nuggets of gold
I’ve got people thinking, well **** the little brother’s got soul
I’m like nah, I’ve just been breaking the mold
back in the day they used to clown me for acting “real different”
black kid in a primarily white school, it could’ve been real different
but couldn’t help feeling out of place
now a days, I take it all at a steady place
growing up is a process man,
felt like I was lagging behind, but there is so much more left to see
I mean look at all the places, people, twists and turns we encounter
life is such a blessing, how the hell could I not enjoy it?
**** that, better believe I’m gonna embrace all that I is.
Be You, Be You, Be You
man that’s all you’ve gotta do.
Another amazing star amongst the many, shining bright in our universe.
Shine with me, we can only get better.
Don’t you ever falter, make your presence felt.
Make the best of the cards that you’re dealt.
because before you know it, you’ve reached the end of a verse.
Page, Chapter, Story or whatever you prefer…
The end may **** sometimes
but it opens up opportunities for new beginnings
That was sudden but it made you think didn’t it?
I live for this connection.
because if I kept you reading, I intrigued you.
it seems you can be reached, it seems I just like to breach into the temples of the mind
like old lectures from old teachers about how we wasting precious time
or how the future round the corner and its time to shape up
stop pushing snooze on the button homeboy its time to wake up
yeah, it be nostalgic on those hazy days
once and a while its okay to have them lazy days
but never stunt the progression of your growth
reminder of the sacrifices made to keep you safe
continue to share these these “little nuggets” that you make
and let the world relate.
Kiarra Dean Jun 2015
home.
i need to go home.
no, mother
we cant go to the store
for we havent been home yet
it is a necessity to go home
before all else
for if not
and the clock strikes five
my hands shake
and tears fill my eyes
for i am not home
and home needs me
yet its more the other way around

home and i
we have a fling
where i come back from my hard day
and she comforts me
houses me
keeps me warm and feeds me
and we need each other
for if i were never there
it would be a skeleton
its insides barren
and if home were never there
id live on the streets
find something so spare

home and i have a connection
if we arent together
after a certain time
we grow weary
lonely
afraid
that the other wont be there
when each other meet again

i need to be home
for home and i have a love affair
she warms me cold winters nights
and cools me hot summer days
and i provide her with love
wear
company

i fear
that if, by five
i am no where near home
time will slip us by
and somewhere along the ride
we will forget each other
for the previous day
would have been
our last kiss goodbye

KD2015 (c)
More spam of poetry. I really like this one
Sam Clemens Mar 2014
The farmer stomped lifeless the ground with his well-worn sole. Wrinkles in his face had become a connection from some betrothed world, to words twisted toxic and curled.
He screamed to far gone memories, or whoever would stop and listen: What the **** was it all for? Do we not reap what we sew?
Some creature of creation found the man, standing on all fours, and it whispered it is not so
But the creature didn’t move or speak, instead it transformed, and from its mouth grew a beak, inscribed with verses of the Qur’an depicting holiness and peace- its skin grew amber scales and this thing to behold then... fell asleep.

The man screamed there is no time for this and the creature sighed back, never wake a monster from its sleep
Shackles grew like vines on the poor man’s thoughts, curiosity burned like acid his tongue and he felt weak, but as the man lost will the creature leapt to its feet

And so the creature took flight on insidious prayers, the farmer knew not what to do and just…stood there. Initiative left woefully in some back pocket of the brain the farmer was swept under wings, swept in swirling eddies born vivid in this boring man’s nightmare
Look! Roared the creature, what you look for grows rich! There is hunger in nature. Wildflowers greedy like ellipses craving ...time, greedy for attention
So give them what they want. Let night drink from your skin, let winter take solace in your memories of summer- fire cringes as it crackles too, stealing voices, leaving bones
Please there is no time for this just tell me what you know

See the amethyst tears flow with ease down aged trees? Not pressed, squeezed nor forced through some artificial means; could more natural a process for sweet natural things be?

But there is not time for this just tell me what you know

As plush songbirds echo some thunder unseen, the observer drinks sound, whets the whistles of dreams, now cage such a bird- honeyed thunder turns to screams

I said there is not time for this just tell me what you know

Unfiltered light bellows breathe in stagnant seas, Ah and sailors, eyes bathed in ***, with calmed visage simply…freeze. Below deck oil-lit lanterns engulfed in darkness just…creak.
I said there is no time for this now tell me what you know
Time is up for me but I have shown you where to go…
If only you would see- I am of you, from this process we should grow. It seems you’ll never know,  for your haste has worn me weak-

*You don’t reap what you sew, you reap what you seek
I'm a fumbler fumbling
A mumbler mumbling
A stumbler stumbling
Around women I like

I become catatonic
Somewhat neurotic
Completely dumbfounded
And I can't speak a word

The fear is too great
So I hesitate
The moments are lost
The longer I wait

I try to act cool
Despite all my drool
I end up a fool
As the hour grows late

I clam up and clamper
To avoid pure disaster
Lacking all candor
And I completely shut down

I'm stifled by fear
By all I hold dear
My words disappear
Just to be near you

My tongue goes numb
Too inept to overcome
The sheer terror inside me
As my heart beats like a drum

Progress a no go
From the chances I've blown
Withdrawn and alone
With painful undertones

Not a whisper or sound
No laughter just frowns
The challenge too great
Than should be allowed

Courage is fleeting
Despite the two of us meeting
I shy away
Just a scared human being

I foresee the outcome
You eventually leaving
Growing tired of my antics
I'm constantly repeating

So I stay within my comfort zone
Narrowly escaping
A connection with another
To keep my heart from breaking

Closed off from the world
That's cruel and unrelenting
One day I'll just disappear
And they'll be no more regretting

The what ifs and the woulda's
The could've and the shoulda's
The didn't and the don'ts
The wouldn't and the wont's

A coward in his shell
Living a living hell
Hidden between the shadows
In my own dungeon where I dwell

Too selfish to share my feelings
With another in my plight
I'm the guy with his eyes closed
Shielded from love at first sight
A pathetic poem of one alone
To scared to step out from his comfort zone
Cory Childs Sep 2011
If you cast truly, king fisher of men,
Show care with connection, rare, meaningful song;
Withered by loss, I cannot comprehend
Why seed should be made to stay only so long.
Feeling for reason, flowing stone divides,
Severing seasons of constant refrain.
Though I deem sep'rate the day from the night,
Singular cycles are all that remain.
O, to make matter, to spirit up beach,
Drawn by some beauty, so vibrantly graved!
Roaring, I'd grasp what's been kept beyond reach,
Breathing new life into what should be saved;
     But presence of peace neither soothes nor forestalls
     When what order brings must be destined to fall.
Leira Jul 2013
Everyday I wake up to you
Makes me smile to see your face
A peaceful expression that etches across your features
So content in dreaming
And when you wake, your green eyes shine as they stare into mine
You smile and say all the right things
You push past all boundaries just to make me happy
And when you wake I try to reply to all your wonderful sayings
Try to express the same amount as you
But no matter how much energy I waste
It will never accumulate
Because your connection is deeper than mine
It always will be
And I can pretend
I can pretend to love you with all that I am
I can try to say all the right things
But I would give anything to go back in time
Change when I let you in and why I let you stay so long
I made you believe that you belonged
Sometimes lying here with you by my side
Lying awake, waiting for the day to take me away
I think of all the times when you made me smile
How effortless it was
Now every morning, I force one
Hoping that it will be enough
That you will never see past my facade
I pray for change, that I can tell you everything
That for once, a moment can be real
And there are few that shine through
That pushes past my memory gap
Believing that maybe this could work
Yet knowing on the inside I could never account for what you do
So I close my eyes and dream of the night
When you were mine
That very first time
When all was real and true
I didn't have to think anything through
Because it wasn't for a show, it wasn't for pretend
It meant something then
So every night when we gather in the dim light
And I let you put your arm around me
Hold me in the dark veil of the outside
All I think is— I want this to be true
I want it to be real; I want to feel something inside me come alive
But regret and guilt eats away all that remains
Yet you stay, I stay
Because I don’t know how to tell you in so many words
That you aren't enough
I could have prevented all that has occurred
With a few simple words
I never learnt to say a million things
Not in that way
So looking at you now and knowing in a few minutes
You’ll be awake, ready to start the day
I think this is a better way
Of telling you everything
Because I’m hoping you heard
All that I had to say
While you were sleeping
So tomorrow I think I might be leaving
I think that might be the day I start living
Companion to "Consequences"
Jack Touchet Mar 2012
The wind whistles in,
I hear the howl clear.
The air is thick with sin,
As the wind whistles in,
So, safely now begin
To cherish those held dear.
While the wind whistles in,
I hear the howl clear.

So now release me, please, from fear
Of the hollow, vacant, plight.
I hear a dawn grow near,
So now release me, please, from fear.
Heartlessness becoming dear,
I've now connection with the night,
So now release me, please, from fear
Of the hollow, vacant, plight!
Lora Lee Mar 2016
My heart
     unpeels itself
in slow motion
    ribbons elegantly drift
  to the floor
once again  I am entrapped
           in a butterfly dance  
as I move towards connection
         entrapped in a cage
of my own building
           stewn all over
like carnival confetti
         utter joy at the beginning
a true celebration
        and then…the explosion
a fissured opening as
painful as a birth
I am all at once
A part of the cracked
                 and steaming earth
In the darkest corners of my mind,
I search rooms at a
mysterious party
as if in a dream
Who do I look for?
I pass each space
Couples on beds
   in their thrusts of passion
beckon me to join
Despite my burning up
I ignore
I know that I must reach
The open field
  sit in sweet solitude
place my hands upon the runes
of my heart
explore its mysteries
and then
only after I am sated
by my own passionate
embrace of mind
only then,
with fire in my eyes,
will I be able
to run freely
to you
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a_pAJc4Q2l8&eb;;=ANyPxKqhAs_oDCjmvA-LgjYWsVWSbH1TsZgu9i57pGUvDWlJ_7U_fPIp4_E8Jj4k3WA4aaUCXiVTg9Nxn0ly196_qec5i4HDiw

We must learn to love oursleves before we can be truly open to love from another
preservationman Oct 2022
All it takes is one thought
Searching for understanding sought
A voice from Heaven
A life well lived
Think on your own life with possibilities that could follow
The Lord dies on the cross
The Thunder in wisdom the force
Assurance for us
The Lord rose from the Grave
Our Hope gained
Healed in miracles
Showed possibilities in our lives
The Lord walked across the oceans
Demonstrated for us to always be courageous
The connection
Effect
Salvation
Blessings
Fulfillment
Everlasting
DeeDeeK Feb 2012
Parenthesis, one, Parenthesis
Oh how my heart does soar
The simple notice telling me
I'm in your thoughts once more
Words, black and white, on screen
Transfer into my soul
Interpreting your meaning
Not wanting to let go

Parenthesis, two, Parenthesis
What riches! more from you
I'm greedy in my desire
to learn your wishes true
To keep this brief connection
no matter how tenuous
We bleed onto these crystal screens
Sharing all inside of us

Alas, no more Parenthesis
Blinking cursor is all I see
Hoping, praying tomorrow will bring
Continuation of You and Me
James Tuohy Apr 2011
You
I miss your voice even though ive never heard it, I miss your touch even if I can't feel it. I want your lips, cuz you wanted to be my first kiss.  You broke the shell that softened the blows.  Love made a hole that will grow.  Maybe i am just to nervous, with no blood flow. And now i can't stay away, but you're not here, there's just smoke.  I feel that our connection is being cut, and being to fade.  

Was this all a trap, or a joke.  You say that you love me, maybe i don't know.  I just feel that you're leaving my heart after you opened my soul.  Now i feel like a monster, who could love such a beast.  Howling in pain, and you're not here to wipe the tears away.  Looks like the doors open for more, **** in everything and lose all the love, and receive only dismay.  But my mind leads a stray, and thoughts pile up.  

I really do think you love me, for who could love a beast, with this face, his heart and claws.  I just wish that i could hold you tonight, maybe everything would be alright.  Please don't leave me, even though this might not work at all.  For I really do love you, i don't want to curl up in ball,  and go back to that shell.
nivek May 2014
I have seen seagulls doing their rain dance
drumming the earth with their webbed feet
fooling the worms its raining so they surface
they do other dances sky dances and sing
I have yet to understand but their connection
between air water and earth simply amazing
halfmoonprxnce Jan 2018
Connection with you
    jolts of electricity
Racing to my core.
Fenix Flight Feb 2016
Hope kills everything good inside
Clinging to me like silent death
Latching on and whispering in the back of my mind

Everytime im ready to move on
It drags up all the sweet memories
Pointing out the connection we had
Reminding me that the love was real

With its whipsers and illusions
I think to myself
Maybe theres another way
We were to strong to just disappear
We'll get throughr this we'll pull through

But days turn into weeks
Weeks drag on to months
Our four year anniversary passes by me dead  
And I am suddenly brought back to reality
You're never coming back to me

And just like that I am heartbroken again
The pain as fresh as that first day
And everything good I built up inside
Withers and dies under hopes mocking laugh

Please please take away this hope
Because its killing me
And everything good inside
Running was our thing
My connection to you
Now I have to share with her
She who always is trying to best me
And is ruining the fun
And relaxation
That comes from so many of my favorite things

Reading was our thing
Something I could relate to

Our shared sense of humor
Is now being forced into stupidness
Because I have to share with her

We didn't have much in common
But the few things we did are gone
Because of her

My friends that are closer to my age
I'm gone one time because of a conflict
Now they're not my friends at all

They say I'm a role model
She looks up to me
She doesn't
She just sees it
As a competition

I try to be patient
But I can't
People say we are so similar
But we are nothing alike

She is loud and commanding
She wants attention
And has different sides to her
That no one else sees
Because she is so fake around others

People are disappointed in me
When I dislcude her
But when she does that to others
No one cares
Or is disapojnted in her

Because she isn't supposed to be mature
And I'm supposed to be setting the example
Blah. A small rant about a sister who constantly frustrates me.
Amy Robson Jul 2012
A lifeless life.
A walking time bomb.
A dream like state.

Wandering,
Roaming,
Unknowing,
Unconscious,
Unwilling,
Di­ssatisfied,
Uncomfortable.

Masked and suffocated and self-destructive.
The palms of your own, quashing, compressing and restricting
Your own
The natural body
The beautiful mind
The connection.

Snapped.
Stephan May 2016
.

*I’m a believer
that time is a healer,
words speak the truth
and the sun always shines

Lost will be found
if the seeker is willing
to hold out his hand
as he follows the signs

Wrong can be right
when it carries affection
though pulling apart
everything you have known

Just like a seed
that is planted in springtime,
a flower will bloom
of the joy you have sown

Oceans are small
with the perfect connection
and distance is short
if the promise is peace

Love is the song
that the world should be singing,
arms open wide
so that hatred might cease

Whatever comes
there is always a reason,
lift up your eyes
and I’m sure you will see

There is no difference
we’re in this together,
love one another
and all will be free
jeffrey conyers Jun 2017
What?
Have you lost?
Most you have stolen or manipulate to get.

What?
Wrong have been done to you.
Justice has been shown kinder to you.

Oh, you not better than any other race.
Don't get it twisted that you are.

But you have all the political connection to divert the laws to your advantage.
Similar to you changing the images of Christ and to some Santa.

You join all the hatred groups led by idiot males.
Some are bright but more dumb as a nail.
Especially when they spell Niger instead of the correct word.

But the truth stands in you not understanding this.

The races you hate will forever exist.
Learn and adapt to this.
Summer Rains Feb 2012
How beautiful it is when you smile. For a moment nothing in the world causes me anguish because I know that you are happy.

You kiss me as if you were never going to see the sun rise above the horizon again. As if by kissing me you were going to bring back the Beatles and drive in movies.

You give yourself so innocently, so whole-heartedly. It kills me that I can't give you all that you deserve.

You are an arid, desert piece of earth, begging for a taste of rain upon your lips. I can't be the torrential downpour you need and desire to quench your thirst.

I am merely a transient summer rain. A minute shower that allows you to flourish for a small while, but lacks the amount required to sustain. I will exit as quickly as I came. Leaving you disappointed and yearning for more.

Perhaps, if the sun is shining just right,I will leave you with a rainbow in your sky. A little reminder of my presence.

I may be doing wrong, but for these next few to many months (I haven't decided yet)I need a small discharge of immense feelings. I need to experience the emotions of love and joy, but only one of our words, emotions, and hearts will be genuinely satisfied.

It's not your fault I'm broken. You shouldn't have to fix me. It isn't your job.

It's not your fault that every time a familiar melody with lyrics expressing the joy of love creeps through the speakers his face pops into my head, not yours.

It makes no logical sense. We have so much more now than I ever had with him. He hurt me. He's gone. He thinks nothing of me. If only I could do myself the favor of forgetting him.

Sweet, pure, deceived lover, I don't want to hurt you, but I will. I inevitably will hurt my own self in the process of betraying your kind heart.

Ugh, you deserve so much better than me. If only I could be the girl who has worth for while. You've been torn apart before by the same wrecking force. I took the chance on a bruised and beaten hurt and all I can think about is what I had. How disappointingly selfish am I?

The sun only goes as fast as time. I love you the same. You can't force what isn't there.

I may be saying all of this in vain. You may, in fact, be the one to fix me. The one who finds all of my shattered glass and places it perfectly back where it belongs. I may plummet into a deep hole of love, a place of no return.  

Who am I kidding. Of course one day, sadly, I am going to fall in love with you. There is a spark in your eye that ignites my sense of wonder. I peer into the innermost chamber of your soul when you flash me your captivating green eyes. I know deep inside that I am the only one who can see this part of you. At these moments I witness something magical and enlightening, connection.

You do make make my heart jump, my knees go weak, and if only I could get you out of my head then I would have finished that series of novels by now. You hold me when I need to be surrounded with caring arms and you communicate without parting your lips to utter a noise.

Maybe I can be the long shower of water you've been waiting for. Only time can tell what I cannot.

If only I could realize now how truly perfect we fit together. Like the quiet and the night, it's you and me.
nivek Sep 2014
aged trees are older, than me
some, saplings are younger
I have this connection
with trees, more, trees,
have a claim, connection
I know is the truest friendship
one of the oldest, on Planet Earth
Michael Ryan Jul 2013
Comfort
an emotional connection
a state of being, where you no longer hate yourself
maybe the hand made quilts that you decide to bask in all day have finally brought this fancy
instead of sweltering in this makeshift office of a bedroom
I doubt they have the ability to do that, maybe they did way back then, but not for you
these quilts were made for another, but who knows who that was
I've decided to make up identities to make things easier to come up with
I have only one persona in life, and it goes with a half smile
but in my writings I can be anyone
but I can't be anyone other than myself so they reflect who I am
Ever being the same thoughts and the same ends
every once and awhile I'm able to show my hope, the hope that keeps the dead alive
Maybe that's why I love love stories that end the way you think they should
You wanted fantasy, but always getting reality
I seem to be writing in the same way these last few poems and I don't know if that's good or bad.  I wrote this because some recent poems have been not like me, and more like I wish I was.  (I don't know why I put these notes.)
svdgrl Sep 2015
Sweet knight.
Sweet, silent knight.
I see you when you don't look at me.
You have tired eyes in a castle,
and though you call it salvation,
that blue light wont protect them.
And those hands gloved in mail-
they are not only meant
to grip cold connection.
You may have forgotten
amongst the digital clutter
but your sword is pen.
Quit confusing it with distraction.
Drop your devices and mechanisms
that you use for isolation.
Hold this plea as your new prayer,
even if it's only a whisper.
Make something.
I don't expect greatness,
but when you dress your wounds
in hesitation and use your insecurities
as your armor-
all I can ask is that you make something.
Harness your fear as your steed-
and ride it with ink as you need.
Please just make something.
There are hours in the day spent on
words never said because
those tired eyes are at a stand-still
on a sheet of electronic nonsense,
and you tremble with your shield
of self-doubt.
A block's only a battle,
Don't lose the war to online addiction,
cell phone conversations in meaningless text,
there's more left in your creative conviction.
I see it when you don't look.
Sweet knight,
you are the one in my mind
that is there to save me with your speech
I beseech you,
*Make something.
Jules Wilson Aug 2013
Wind, capture my soul—

pass through me,

brush shoulders with the crowd of tourists and locals

who meander through the clock tower plaza,

wishing to claim their connection

to a place they learned about in a History class

-

a few years back.

There must be more.

-

Salt, clean my nostrils of any hate—

the air fills me up, lifting me away,

And I feel weight-

less,

like I’m about to arrive

in the freshest of places, the greenest of spaces.

-

I am a tourist myself, yet my mind is cleaner

—but please, don’t take my comments as hate,

rather just distance from their kind—

and it’s this slate that the sea wipes

again and again with each foamy breath

like the gallops a freed horse makes

in the fields of this same island

-

a few years back.

There is something more.

-

A grass blade, a bead of sand, a drop of the ocean’s

water in your hands, seeping between the cracks

of this world’s distaste.

I have begun to wonder how lovely freedom must taste,

particularly on the tongues of those opposed,

denied of the wooden planks that could carry them home,

of the ocean’s kissing that lets them float and imagine

that there is something more.

-

Whisper me to that sea.

Salty breaths enlighten me.
I have to present this in my college poetry workshop on Friday (August 30), so any comments or suggestions would be appreciated!
each time you cross my mind
i think about a magic that has lost it’s effect,
i think about ecstasies i can no longer feel

i remember the days i lay on my bed
half hour longer than i woke up
my thoughts focused on you
and enjoying the chills they gave me

i remember how i caught myself smiling
as i thought of our times together,
how i pretended not to hear you
when you talked about your boyfriend
because you were a dream too good to let go

i remember how i reread our chats
and tried to draw a map inside my head
of the connection you said you felt
that made our lengthy conversations fluid

i remember how i thought everybody
who bears the same name as you a darling
because you gave the name a new meaning
and i wondered for long; where the charm lay
in your smile, vivid in my remembrance?
or your laughter that reechoed in my ears?
or how in a crowd you seemed in my eyes
like a star forging among dark clouds?

but most times, the good things do not stay;
these days i am awoken to the storms
on the grey side of life
and every madness has lost it’s magic
every line of love, blurred
but one thing is sure; i miss loving you.
Mercurychyld Mar 2015
Days ago
there was a battle;
a struggle with waves of
relentless fury and
a choking sorrow,
wounds left to bleed,
but no one else could
know or see.

These wretched winds
were too intense for
me alone to stop;
I tried to reign them in,
but just could not.

Wrestling with injuring
thoughts and chaotic
emotions, alone,
I hadn’t realized another
was watching, guarding
over me, so to speak.

A silent sentinel,
waiting, observing,
making sure that no one
else got hurt
by the brutal storm
raging deep.

The whole time
he lovingly held the reigns,
and now handed them back
over to me.
He placed them gently
in my naked hands,
as his remained leathered
and gloved.

Now I wake
and a blanket of sorrow
covers me, like a
worn sweater,
but the dangerous winds
have died down;
I can once again handle them,
on my own.

None other can truly ‘see’
beneath the layers of
foreign smiles and
thoughtful words,
but he can;

he knows this ache,
understands the dark melody
and in kindness he rides,
he rides
just for me.

I sit high upon the tallest tree
just to witness
with my heart and soul
this thrilling ride he takes,
for me.

Round and round he goes,
gracefully weaving and swerving
to and fro.

For him there is no need
of practice,
yet he rides just for me,
‘cause he knows it
simply makes me happy.

The sounds of the engine,
the leathered hands
gripping the handles,
clutch and throttle;
a most beautiful sight to see,
and he does all this
whenever there’s need.
He does this all
for me.

An intricate flow
of movement,
this connection between
a rider and his bike.

A fascinating exchange
between flesh and machine,
as I have resigned myself
to never truly knowing it,
as I watch this
Angel on wheels.

He rides and swerves
with never a stutter,
never a clumsy fall,
and I simply smile
as it fills me with a
modicum of glee
as I get to watch
as he rides,
rides so skillfully,
just for me to see…

this Angel on wheels.



-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights 28 March 15
Saturday
Feeling very disappointed in myself after taking a riding course,
but not quite making it. Leaves a big hole and a sad humiliation. I really wanted to have something to connect me to my estranged brother and father, who both ride. Guess it wasn't meant to be. Back to life then.
Keebo Nov 2020
***
Is it a battlefield for love?
Or a wicked game of lust?
Is it a good time and fulfilling?
Or is it a meaningless rush?

Do you have *** because of connection?
Or do you **** just for the attention?
Do you have *** to feel like a new person?
Or did somebody **** your innocences?

Do you see *** as a gift?
Or a symbol of nothingness?
Do you see *** as important?
Or escapism from human conversation?

How do I see ***?
It’s better than hanging from the ceiling
How do you see ***?
I’ll be waiting
scully Jan 2016
ive been told
many great poets relied
on mind altering drugs
opiates and pills
in order to force their hand
to the paper
in order to jumpstart their brain
like a side of the road
two degrees
junkyard car

i have nothing to write about
when I abstain from your name
and calling you my ******
gives you the power to roll my eyes
back into my head
with pleasure
it gives you the power to **** me
typical bathroom scene
slumped over your
"i miss you"
choking on the apologies
i couldn't spit out
in the middle of winter

ill never be a great
and self destructive artist
not because i light your memories up under a spoon
not because I let you infect me
not because I roll you up and set you on fire
and breathe in your sentences

ill never be a great
self destructive artist
because there's no jumpstart
or moment
of connection
ive tried
every drug i can find
and im still
sitting with the shower running
letting it burn me
begging to feel something

because really
what's the difference
between numbing me
and telling me
you don't love me anymore
Nicole Potter Dec 2013
We have been given a
                   WORLD
Where
                Thinking.
Is.
     Just.
             Not.
  Required.
              Who says Zombies
                                         Cannot Exist?
Are not walking
                            Among us.
     Void Emotion.
                              Void Human
                                                     Sincerity.
This
        'Functioning Society'
                       We have greedily gobbled
From a Silver,
                         Gold plated platter.
Does not support
                              Connection.
Promotes Private.
                 Singular Successes.
One ocean of
                       Opportunity.
                                                 How?
Tell a bird to swim.
                           Hold it's breath.
To halt it's lovely
                             Song?
It will
            Perish.
                         Forced to
                                           Thrive,
                                           Live,
                                           Exist,
                                          Be Content
In conditions it was not
                                         Designed
                                                           to Flourish.
You.
         Have a Particular,
                                         Admonishing
               Spirit.
Designed for a Certain
                                       Purpose.
The Human
                      Frailty,
Deemed
               Consciousness,
Possessing Thought.
                                    Curses
                                                     and
                                    Prizes.
The ability to choose a
                                         Niche.
Complicatedly,
                            Distraught and
Scared.
              We all begin to carve.
Choose Air,
                    Fire,
                            Water.
As our ideal conditions.
                    In which lies, Your
                                                      Destiny.


**Dec 2, 2013
AndIFell May 2014
What makes me stay
Isn't your jade eyes
Nor your heart shaped lips
Nor your addicting smile
Nor your contagious laugh
Nor how you stare at me
Nor how you suddenly fall asleep
Nor how I'd spend all day just talking to you
Nor how you inspire me
Nor how you're just perfect
Nor how you're suddenly not so perfect
Nor how I love you
It's rather because of this connection
     Our friendship
     How you kiss me
     How you hug me
     How you give me all I want

You're everything I need
And that is what makes me stay
'Cause a little love doesn't hurt sigh*
splvrry Oct 2014
Even if I can’t have you
In the end, even when my heart is blocked
By the wall of sad connection
I will love you
In this place
where I can just watch you
Because you’re my everything
you DUh

— The End —