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KM Hanslik Aug 2018
We've been having such a good time out here lately
chasing chasing chasing this summer to the end
of its life,
and it's about time we took half a handful of
something decent to calm our nerves, breathe slow
in and out just like we practiced when
the stars hid their faces and we decided
the nights were getting short and we'd
better hide ours, too.

and I know our brains will always be
a little bit hardwired for self destruction,
but before you go digging around again
in old scraps searching for new ways to place blame, new ways to fit
our shoulders with damage & **** counts,
take this down off the shelf
take a deep breath and hand
me the blueprints.

Sometimes I trip over my tongue when I speak, sometimes I forget and just
mumble instead,
and sometimes I tear out stiches too early
sometimes I don't get what I want and I blame myself
hate myself for thinking that we all have to come to terms with our own
versions of crash-and-burn fairytales,
but isn't that the truth of it all? If this
brutal reality doesn't shake us and stir
the dust from our bones, nothing will;
no morning or afterlife can save us until
we stop sharpening our teeth and put down our steel blades
nothing is made forever, but forever
is made up of a lot of nothings,
the way we stir the *** on our bad (or good) days is only one of them;
the way we tell ourselves we aren't important is a lie
don't whisper this into my ears at dusk,
scream it into the sky
scream it into the palms of your hands until you can't breathe anymore,
it has never been better, it has never been worse  
work your desires into your
DNA coding
detonate what's left in your system
(start over again)

I'm finding new ways to stand still on this high balancing beam
new rituals and new ways to throw my hat off to you,
give credit where credit is due
I only hope that when it's said and done
and I'm on my way out
I'll know half of what I do right now,
feel it surging in my headrush & in the burn
of my fingers
I hope I'll know on my way out the door:

Nothing has ever been better and nothing has ever been worse.
Mystic Ink Plus Jul 2018
She told him

Her love is from
The Moon to back

He told her

His Love is from
The Heart to the Soul

He in She
She in He
Their Journey continues
Genre: Romantic
Theme: Journey towards infinity
Ryan A Flournoy Feb 2014
Submissive my body tender and weak.
Closer to death my body must be.

If I must attest then it's fluids at best.
Submissive my body the pain and the rest.

I should have known from the jump, for I had not been foretold.
Steer clear of its wrath, it's no common cold.

The fight continues, the world on a spin. God speed to you and this ibuprofen.
How much longer will the disadvantage of this country have to put up with this Idiot Tory government that know nothing of what real life
Is
I listened to the their new statement commended to the house yesterday what absolute carbage do they honestly think the
good
honest
people are going to be fooled by this statement of empty useless ******* well I for one won't be 9 years of osterity we have suffered while they have linned their
pockets
Osterity what was not even nesssary but created so they could punish the poor and vulnerable of our society
just to satisfy the their greed and self Importants shame on them
The countless number of people forced In to debt homeless to face life on the streets children going threw
******* bin for scraps of
food because they going hungry
Because of this government's cruel and unforgiving systems the countless number  of people who have taken their lives because of universal
credit
The oppersition were yesterday afraid to go the all the way to condemning the Tory party but I'm not they have blood on their hand have obsolutly no compassion
And best of all have totally denied It all and can sleep at night there quilt blinded by greed when Is the rest of the world going show some ***** and say this stops
now
Instead like UN saying they are commiting crimes against humanity and then doing nothing I live In hope this so called
government will stand trial when someone other than myself who has the power and the ***** to stand up and say no
more
L B Sep 2016
Route 84 would not lend me
the light of a star last night
Radio blazing at 75 mph
nonsense noise to chew gum by
Crackling political commentary
Static of distance and thick clouds
Invisible mountains blocking
Memories seeping through the cracks
coating the music in a film
I rub my eyes
watch myself punch alert buttons
But it’s the angels’ jukebox tonight

Roll down the window
Watch the heat escape

Summer again

I am building a castle of ancient stones
pulverized by relentless tides
Dragged across maps by mastodons
and mammoth glaciers
The scouring hiss
the ocean sighs
Time has lulled these smoothly
rolling them in the softest hands of sand
and gels of life’s comings and goings
tenderly tumbling
in the millionth moonrise—
Time deposits them here
wet and glistening

For the girl with the plaid two-piece to gather
Shoulders sun-burnt barely say
one week only,
one week of the fifty two
“It’s the time of the season…”
and daddies on the beach are watching….

She has chosen yet another stone
And the castle continues—
in oblivion to all but her legend…

     The queen will be safe here
     from the rabble
     The disgraced Tristan will surely seek her
     Among these lofty cliffs
     Between the raging circuit of the tide
     Here winds forbid the vengeful mob
     Here lovers learn
     the debt of love’s bad timing
     “Drink ye all of it!”
     --the potion that assigns our sorrow….
     She will not sleep—
     while I chew this gum--  GUM?

Roll down the window!

Angels escape with the heat
Waking me with the brush of their wings

As that eighteen-wheeler hugs my flank
And leans on the horn
Lights flashing
Rude rumbling under right tires
Tantrum of snow
In the draft of mass and velocity

…and the angels?
They’ve chosen another good one!
They must’ve liked the 80’s
Their wings slapping the windshield madly  
Their hands steady the wheel
As a fourteen-year old, I picked up a book to read at the beach about the legend of the lovers, Tristan and Iseult.  I was so captivated by their story that it ruled my imagination that summer.  

Anyway, I still think of it when I think of the ocean-- as I did on this cold dark occasion when I should have pulled off somewhere for a coffee, but I was trying to beat the snow storm home.
Route 84, also known as Dead Bambi Highway, has a desolate, treacherous section going over the mountains between NY and Pennsylvania.  Didn't have much option for music at the time, so I leaned heavily on the radio pushing the search button to find anything bearable-- not too much static.
Song reference in this: "Time of the Season" by the Zombies-- all time favorite beach song that happened to be on the radio that night.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RBxK3CcOQD8
karin naude Jan 2014
my ******* affair
a blood covenant
continues negative on the balance sheets
a constant power struggle
my soul and unwavering obedience the prize
secretly a grudge grows
(encouraged by continual love famine
inclined by love withdrawal punishment)
poisoning the source

uncomprehensible to me
why i am always found unworthy
fathers love, blessing and protection
unattainable
withdrawal, nonacceptance and deliberate bad wishes
fertilizes the acre
what will the harvest be
tug of war for my sanity
my Heavenly Father and mum
vs
the enemy and dad
forge in this firepit
born among ashes
Thom Jamieson Jul 2018
"Over here"...
but nothing.
The scene continues
unabated by my presence.
Plastic smiles and lustful eyes
bountiful but not for me..never me.
In the mirror' s unforgiving gaze
I am unrecognizable
Replaced with a crude rendering
of my previous likeness
fashioned by children
with lumpy imperfect clay.
Silence replaces loving laughter
that used to follow my witty banter.
Silence and stares.  Sympathetic stares
tinged with smugness and fear.
"Over here...over here..."
still nothing.
I recently received a message from a composer named joe drzewiecki who was interested in putting this poem to music.  Here are the results.  I didnt know my words could sound so good. Thank you joe drzewiecki, I am flattered.

https://soundcloud.com/jomama-2/invisible
Sharon Thomas Jun 2015
..life is full of life
like a magic land full of wonders,
like songs whose notes go high and low,
with lines which rhyme to make a flow!
and whole experiences in life goes just like a wind's blow:
soft yet swift, silent yet clear.
It begins,continues and may even end well only if you put forward a  virtuous life indeed.
All you need to be away from is the poison tree
which fed Adam and Eve.
Look away!
It may be placed in the center of your life too.
You may find it the most glossy and glittering today.
Bowing to this may keep your head held down forever.

Know this fact for a sinless life
All the tempting trees yield fruits sour & reel
you'll stumble,totter,wobble & falter!
Then'll you realize fasting away this fruit was better.
But by then you'll lose paradise forever and fetter!

So let us all not reach to this concluding our lives should have a better ending.
which is to be more certain,graceful & dutiful.
Cos we live only once but it should have the worth of tons
Life'll help you do that..As "life attracts life"
BEAUTIFULLY ,ENORMOUSLY & PERFECTLY!!
Nico Julleza Jul 2017
Oh Honored,
and Everything shall be done
so still as the rising sun
an enmity of good and evil
a creole out place for all ages
and lo his nights are sacrosanct than days
yet thee remained Avant
than ever more so could change
thus, change forge to my heart
like rebels facing an empyrean, a tragic dream

As their ethereal mind queries;
Could Silence be heard?
Could Uproar be held?
Could Tranquility be forever still?
Could A Wayward be in place evermore?

A life so query,
a mind so wild as spirit so free
for youth is ****** to be astray
and still continues to find its way

Yet in its Maker thee will know...

what lies beyond the depths of shallow springs

what message can be read in papers of blank

and what eyes can see when the world is blind

Am I affront to pry?
when I query for once was mine....
#Query #Love #Self #Peace #Silence #Tranquility #Dreams

"A Poem For Once who was Lost, Forgotten, Untold. Now Returns To Take What Once was His. Unafraid, Brave, Bold, Unshackled.."

"One of my Inspiration is the Story about An Interview with the Vampire, a movie in the 90's. which a life of a man, who wanted to have joy and peace for himself. Ended up being in Hell for the rest of his days, to decades, till even centuries have passed of his life."

Re posted: Because I love This Poem So much

(NCJ)POETRYProductions. ©2017
Nathan Dec 2016
A crushed heart
Continues to beat
To the dance....


Of it's lonely waltz
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Let me go.  Set me free to be all that I can be.
Let me rise up against this blackness that encompasses me.
I have worked in this stone box for too long,
without looking at the world outside.

I cannot recall the freedom that was once mine
as I’ve become so accustomed to this prison that I’ve made.
What I could do, what I should do, these elude me,
leaving me lost, without a map to follow.

How do I find my own path?  It continues to find me.
Desire overpowers me to forge my own,
to create new life and freedom for the person I’ve become;  
freedom from the struggles weighing me down
that have kept me from the life I could live.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Robert G Page Aug 2013
By
rgpage

The cool evening breeze filled with a scent of approaching rain.
Caught by playful window shears
as it passes through an open pane, to reach their  
length and breadth toward the waiting bed.

He was a lover of music and his woman,
a passionate man with a sensitive heart.
She was in love with the melodic way  
his gentle fingers moved with sensual touch
over her soft silk like skin of art.

He started gently around her ears softly prying
them open with the quiet richness of her melodies.
Each note of his gentle kisses leading her to a sensual abyss,
easing her down from the edge, controlling her descent, to her goal.
Down the swirling dark and light blends of the music rendered from her soul.

She was his instrument on which he placed
his soft loving fingers, moving them effortlessly,
caressing her most sensual delicate keys…Each body part
smoothly rubbed added richness to her sensual sound driven by lust
and loving trust.  

Her ******* he fondled, licking and kissing, squeezing and rubbing.
Silently giving thanks, to her creator for such an amazing instrument.
Both of her hands with long slender fingers tangled in the long dark locks
of his hair as she eases her maestro’s head up tighter against her soft
beautiful mounds.

The loving melody continues with his touch now joined with the sound
of raindrops splashing into uncovered metal buckets and cans. The drops
carried on the breeze through the playful dancing shears came through the other end as nothing more than refreshing cooling mist.

Her body was his loving piano, and as with the 88 keys of his magnificent
Baldwin, the sensual areas of her equally magnificent body, when properly stroked,  filled not  only the bedroom but the whole house with the most glorious ****** notes known to man.  

After a while the symphonic ****** builds as he masterfully impales her with his instrument of love coming into constant contact with the one special key of keys. Its special sound as his strokes came harder and faster brought the whole master piece to a beautiful melodic end as the two lovers bath in the rain’s gentle mist…
Paul Hansford Aug 2018
When we first stood, those fifty years ago,
outside the church together, man and wife,
we had no way of knowing if our life
was bound for sun and smiles or tears and snow.
In the event, we had our share of each.
When children came, as we continued longer,
the highs and lows made our love all the stronger,
and happiness was never out of reach.
Together, then, we've weathered many a storm,
and having lasted now for half a century
I think we're justified to call it victory
to know our love continues just as warm.
(Although age may reduce youth's fiery passion,
a long, slow smoulder's never out of fashion.)
Thanks to all who've commented/loved this. I guess I'd better update it next year, as it's going to be the Diamond Wedding!
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
She is pyramidon spreads down the pyramid
Led by him up the pyramid that keeps climbing high.
Continues to straighten his straight line but her
curve off the top embraces full is an enduring spiral!

Off the apex of the pyramid the butterfly has slipped out
Still a circle still a cut whatsmore is concealed in the pi?
Future is in now, deathless in death only a pi away!
Carter Ginter Jan 2013
I can't find the words to explain
This thing I do.
It's not like there's a purpose to it
No real happy ending
But still it continues.
This back and forth repetition
And it works.
Even though it really doesn't.
Because its pathetic,
truly pathetic
That I am so hooked into you
And for what?
A conversation that ends in anger
Or more pain even.
Because you still love her
But I can't get over you so easily
I've tried.
*And I keep trying.
Ever had that one person that was really nothing but your emotions are telling you otherwise? The one who hurt you but you just keep wanting to go back for more? 'Just one more conversation' you tell yourself as the text sends. And it never ends well.
The first two 'I's were originally 'we's but then I realized it isn't really her, it's me.
And for the most part I am over it. But there's those few days when I'm not. And today would e one of them.
Carter Ginter Jun 2014
I'm so confused
No I don't understand
Because who I see here
Is Not who I am.
Reflections tell a story
The one everyone sees
But if you look deeper inside
There's much more left to be.
We're told when we're young
That anything is possible
But society continues
To declare dreams improbable.
I don't hate who I am
Just who I see in the mirror
For these thoughts I keep hidden:
They provoke too much fear.
I want to be normal
Young and happy
But I can't figure out
If I'm really me.
I make a decision
Decide on a label
That is until
New cards hit the table.
Under the sheets of emotional armor,
A shy little girl masquerades as a martyr.
She’s the Queen of Deceit with her lies getting smarter,
While every tale told draws her self even farther
From finding out why she’s emotionally bothered
By all of the men in her life: like her father
Who only was trying the best for his daughter
And striving to be something more than a pauper
But coming up short. Who knows how much harder
He’d try if she wasn’t an argument starter?
The guilt and the shame from the family slaughter
Has made her insane and continues to bar her
From finding out just what the world has to offer.

Luckily she won’t have to be here much longer;
In fairy-tale land, there's nothing can harm her.

She suddenly finds herself all alone
With nobody’s thoughts to address but her own.
This is the time when she’d pick up the phone,
Demanding a savior to hear her bemoan
About all the problems that she’s ever known,
But what she doesn’t know is a friend can’t atone
For the lack of a man with his patience to loan
To a lost little girl whose bad temper is known.
All she needs is a strong one that doesn’t condone
All the treacherous lies and the hatred she’s shown.
It’s hard to deny all the reaping she’s sewn.
She’ll have to tread soft lest her cover is blown
And everyone finds out she still hasn’t grown
Through the hundreds of tempers and tantrums she’s thrown.
Hopefully soon she can bury the bone
And calm herself into a nostalgic zone
Where smiles and candles were filling her home
And love and affection were all that was loaned.

Enlightenment comes when you realize you’re prone
To the wrath of the heartache that comes with the throne.
Damsel in distress
Tanay Sengupta Jul 2018
You feel depressed and lost
For all the pain and the cost.
Your efforts have gone in vain,
You are struggling to stay sane.

It is so hard to remain in the light
When you have already lost the fight.
You are watching the curtains closing,
While the world is sleeping.

Your life has been a bumpy ride
Always changing with tide.
And as the sequence continues,
You are scared that you will lose.

Yet, here you stand with the will to try.
Yet, here you stand prepared to fly.









Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018. All Rights Reserved.
Just another one from my lab. So, far it has been just easy lyrics from me and this one is no different. I am trying to keep my poems very simple and humble. I really hope that you are enjoying them.
Brian McDonagh May 2018
Me: “Father, I think I would like to pray my own way.”
Priest: “Ha okay (sarcasm), whatever you say, Brian.”
(Priest continues about in ignorance of commentary)
Priest (beginning Vespers): “O God, come to my assistance…”
Me: (beginning Whispers) "O ****, here we go again..."
(Grudgingly submits)
I have always wanted to be different in spirituality, but when I have to coordinate myself to meditate like everyone else, I feel "un-special" (if that makes sense...again, not trying to offend, thought).
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