"cosiest" poems
I find these days my head bows down,
Lost in trees which bear no roots around.
We all continue to strive for their peaks,
That we might find the validation we believe speaks.
Because in a forest of hard line and concrete,
We think all there is, is a standard to meet.
Our bodies are young, but our souls are so old,
And craving some place wild and bold;
Where the forest which hems is ancient with moss,
And the rivers carve streets no foot can cross.
Tall mountains send out the wake up call,
That every man and woman will fall.
At the end of the day, the wild remains,
And strives to survive through mans foolish claims.
Yet I am lost to the toil and to the strife,
Of simply trying to make it with my life.
But make it where? As what? And why?
Because I try to escape the fact that all will die?
No solace can be found in the wealth of a king,
But give me a glimpse of an eagle on wing,
Amongst valleys and coasts where few eyes see,
Where the snow melts and brings new life to be.
A morning crisp with dew, and a chorus of song,
Some place wild where our old souls belong.
So short-sighted, so corrupt and insincere,
We try and conquer all that we claim to hold dear.
Even though we are but fleeting on a beautiful plain,
We are determined to burn, to clear and contain.
What if we were to become who we could be,
Honouring and reverent of all that is unbound and free?
To feel insignificantly small again,
That is the amazing gift of summit and glen.
A simple reminder that we are all but participants,
Not gods, completely unaware of our littleness.
Sitting in awe of the symphony of life abounding,
Lost in our utterly magnificent surrounding.
So I choose to take to the trails, the ridges and paths,
Which lead to the furthest and cosiest hearths;
To meet other wandering souls who have left behind,
The confusion and delusion of a self-obsessed mind.
And be prepared to lose and find myself again,
Away, into a wild embrace, her rugged domain.
My soul cries for freedom, some vision to see,
New life bursting as a bud on every tree.
Swept up in the miracle of a tale much bigger,
Than the measurable wealth of my yearly figure.
For in the wild, can be found the perspective I need,
For my searching soul to truly be freed.
May 6, 2021
May 6, 2021 at 9:58 PM UTC
Melancholy ain't making me poetical,
Instead, more panglossian!
I need thy cwtch for now and
I'll show how the rest of it is played
with boisterous swagger
Kicking back those icy fangs.
*** Don't tell me there's a twist again!
Come on! Burst the bubble! ***
Every bowl has its day Forget not!
Aaha now that's why i say:
"LIFE IN A FINGER BOWL"
The one in winter, most cosiest!!
Oh u didn't understand ?
It's ok. Don't have to !!
Not everything is ment to be understood
Dec 31, 2019
Dec 31, 2019 at 12:40 PM UTC
since tizzops knows half of the world, there are
blue birds painting his name in the sky, formation
for the throne, lead her up, your queen
uniquely dressed in all-white, all guests fully covered in snow
everybody waited for that day, until tizzop & marissa, being in
a blossom-white garden happily said yes to each other
sparklingly white ravens, everything only this one color
the magical gift, like jeezy's magic city
marissa: come with me now, we're flying over continents
thousands of miles, first and tender kisses
and soldiers are firing into the air, under the
violins we are watching the world like drones
kings and emperors, in order to reward our people
i need me some bread and beans, proteinshakes
bodybuilding, this song fits into the first take
we are fate: tizzops & marissa, like vocals
and basslines, violins and piano
burner beats and our voices, all goes together
baby, come home with me, be at home with me
cause at home is the best and cosiest place
decorate my room, fill it up with blaze
give me your female touch, i am and remain an ox
when i spot you on a snowy path, as you're standing
in front of an ipod-white foal, babe, i stole that for you
like i'll be heisting mars, moon and venus, i become
calm and laid back, turn into what i will be and i am sure
that marissa got my back, and that she loves me
she is good, how i am enjoying this, we're like malibu
firing up waves on the rocks like cocktails
and the shiningly white swoosh of the ocean
is our carpet, and stars bet on our fate now, my babe
Aug 31, 2020
Aug 31, 2020 at 9:16 PM UTC