"deadest" poems
My deadest fiance you give life to me, you are the light in the dark, when I'm near you I'm nothing but happy, happier than I've ever felt with anyone. You are the reason I smile, the reason I get up everyday and say I'm in love, your my most valued friend, your my other half, my best friend, the future mother of my kid(s), but above all your my fiance and I'll always love you, protect you, care for you, love and nuture you til the day we die. I love you so much you're my world, my shining star in the blank clear night sky, my happy place. My dearest your all I think about from the time I wake up, to the time I go to sleep and even in my dreams and if I could I'd do my life over and only have you as my love because you're the only one worthy of it. I live you and I'm glad you're mine and in my life with out you I'd probably be dead.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 1:33 AM UTC
‘tis but a thing she does
The female assassin
They say that poison is her weapon… maybe on occasion
But that is a level she’s surpassing
You see, what they fail to understand is that she doesn't take lives for vengeance
‘tis but a profession
The beautiful, tantalizing female killer
Her male victim’s obsession
One minute she’s a runway model… with her devilishly sinful grin
A smile so engrossingly enticing… full, red lips that cut across her face playfully
Against her flawlessly peaceful skin
One word for that…’killer’
Forbidden pleasures… blissful sin
She’s taken out big names… maybe even one or two heads of state
To dinners she’s escorted these men… and later on left them in their deadest state
She walks through the front door, but when leaving she can scale windows
Agility is her forte… ‘Man killer’ she is
The black widow…
In a red dress
You may be reading this thinking you can never fall prey to her seductive tentacles
‘tis an argument I do not even wish to get into
I digress.
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 8:43 AM UTC
#*child of heart
but not of womb,
would i'd been
gifted to ban the
hope-thieving,
spirit-throwing
parasitic lies,
to shelter ears
& fragile petals
against bruising,
whiskey-glazed
acts and words.
would i might be
gifted now to
soothe, cradling
tender soul through
deadest night's
watery gloom.
yet firmly i know
none other will ever
be gifted to bestow
what only One balm
can perfectly renew,
and He waits for you,
my beautiful girl.*#
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 9:47 AM UTC
From the time the heart first knew how to feel, and the eyes distinguished rain from tears, few have hidden behind the walls within me. Whether they found it a safe place or a jail cell - well, I guess we'll leave that to the imagination. No matter if it was a cell or heaven, the space within always felt alive. Even at my deadest times, the heat within coursed like it knew something more valuable was in store.
Somehow, some way, a wanderer found a pathway in. Had he known better, perhaps he would not have been in the hands of the girl with wisps of flame at her angered fingertips. The burns don't sustain, but the more that's lost, the more it dissolves all other slivers of hope left to grasp.
Fear is the real culprit, you must see. The fear I must face by harboring a false love; a fear of committing my own sins; of breaking my own promises.
I've never understood a "true understanding." Anger can be cooled by the calm, as does the rainbow after the storm. With the storm blown over, his eyes shone bright and revealed his intentions clearly - you can still love with a straight face and a frigid heart.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 9:58 AM UTC
I have often turned within my grave to ponder of the reason why
Upon the date of my birth, you took me to your secret hide
Underneath an aspen tree within the deadest of nights
You took to me like a moth to a ball of flickering light
With the devils own smile plastered upon your face and the slightest of hand
You produced a sanguineous jar of hearts and an ominous jar of black sand
You grasped my hands in your work enured and fairly calloused paws
Looked me in the eyes, and told me to forever leave my pale hands raw
"Never soil your untouched hands, your hands and eyes you shall avert'
"Never bruise, nor ever hurt, nor shall they be ever touched by dirt,
"Never touch a rose, nor touch a bee, as danger is an all you see,
"Close your eyes my little darling, and all of life shall be but a dream."
With the trust of a mothers child, I kept my eyes tightly squeezed
Wished upon the star within the midnight sky, wavering in the breeze
Held my hands up to my chest, hoping the fluttering and staggered slips
Not to be seen by your face within the light of moon as from the sun it dines and sips
Of a heart that had only once been given to me and should have forever stayed mine
But the greed inside all mens' hearts want, and reaches out to grasp a young new 'hind'
With another slight of those calloused hands, you took my life for your own pleasure
And stole what was rightfully derived as mine; a beating heart, you took your leisure
A working mind, once a clock, now fully had come to a skidding stop
You took my bones and my teeth and used them as a fertilizing crop
The very worst thing that you did, you took my pride when you took my skin
Shaved off clean with a diamond edged razor and worn as if you were mockeries twin
Burried underneath that beautiful aspen tree, I've been given the time to remold
But my life had been stolen, the soul forced out before the bells had tolled
In the time it had taken for my pieces to remold, I had realised something then and there;
There were always things that were meant to go untold, but the truth is ringing upon the open air
You wanted more than what was offered and had bitten off all you could chew
But if I'd known back then what I know now, I'd know real good men only come in few
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 10:50 PM UTC
A gloomy day is upon us when the leaves fall,
glistening under the sun as they slowly make their way to ground
Like the wave of a hand, flopping inward and out,
as it motions goodbye.
When the sun is setting and bleeds into the sky
with the oils of a canvas of war
****** red, sinking into the horizon,
gradually burying itself into Earth.
And when the birds decide to leave us in winter,
heading North, like an arrow below the clouds,
signalling to our safety, but we stay nestled around;
we cannot fly.
When the stream’s path has been broken,
and gravity summons the waters to the deadest of ends,
a puddle of joy is formed,
for us to bathe away our sins.
When stars shimmer in the darkest of night
false wishes, like false hopes,
but we look at them and smile.
We marvel at this beauty,
because we wish our partings were as breath-taking.
We wish our tears didn’t look so ugly,
and our hearts wouldn’t ache
and our breaths weren’t so shallow,
as we realize it is time to say farewell.
In nature, everything comes back,
The sun rises again, the leaves grow,
and the birds return to their land,
stars are reborn even waters feed our plants.
But we, we stay just where we are,
and learn to redirect our melancholy,
our energy,
to nature…
Underground.
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 9:06 AM UTC
How fast fade most pinkest trees
How digits dance 'neath Catalpa breeze
Ignoring last October's deadest death
They arrived on time then took last breaths
Scattered seeds among their foes
Had no need of planting earthen work
As cycles shadow ploughman's dream
The fickle fruitless cherry grows
He rode rough crests over wildest waves
His ship stayed unsunk under skinny toil
His family landed and held holiest hope
Now blossom buds over grassy graves
Darkness darkened darkest health
Metal sheets broke bones full force
Lungs would not get the care of air
But hours still channeled wisdom wealth
She bent the knee for sacred loves
She scraped it on the firmest strife
Her pies nor pulchritude but soul inspired
Now stillness stays beneath starry moves
When bloodiest blood ****** didn't produce
It drained itself from veins and strained
Veiling valleys making mountains make-believe
But sharpest tongue emptiness refused
What meagre maggots worthless worms
Are those of us who never yearn!
We rarely learn to live so well as they
Who gave us genes and grace and days
All I offer oft only when I try and I work
Nothing else can I do nor more can I hope
This most modest shallowest honor to give
Of them in springtime remembering is
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
in the deadest waters
of your cruel swamp
we heard your voice
sliding on the surface
like a perfectly sailed skiff
avoiding the murky depths
…for an illusive while
reaching our ears softly
lulling us to sleep
on your shell shocked shores
we had no need
to awake
while you sank,
a leviathan in red white and blue,
making only impotent cries
and cyber ripples
before your bloated belly
zagged and zigged
to the black bottom
while we slept
under the spell
of your lost incantations
and spoke in dreamlike verse
of once great nations
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 12:13 AM UTC
Your creativity is showing me a spectrum of colors I myself had never seen,
and though overwhelming,
it's mesmerizing all the same.
The shades of your voice are enough to get me lost in the art,
the cool and warm tones of your words leave me wondering just what season it is.
Similar to the Wisconsin weather I endure daily,
so warm and embracing one moment,
nearly as cold as the deadest of winter the next.
You told me your worry about yourself because of how your mind works.
That over the last two years,
it has not mattered who we've seen,
what we've endured,
we always come back to this.
And can I just say that
I never thought I'd be in this kind of relationship.
Late night phone calls and
distanced "I love yous"
followed by confessions I fear I'll never admit once the line goes dead.
We always joked we'd marry when we were younger,
but the reality of it is becoming realer than I'd ever imagined.
Through it all, I just want you to know that
I wouldn't mind getting lost in your voice one day.
The spectrum you show me,
almost as vast as the space between you and I.
And yes, I really have thought about this-
because I consider you my best friend
And that's something no amount of distance will change.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 8:35 AM UTC
i remember aimlessly driving those barren city streets
in the deadest hours of the night
hoping to see you doing the same
i never saw you
and even if i did
i wouldn't have known what to do
it's been a year
and i still don't know what to do
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 7:21 PM UTC
Awoke last night in the deadest of hours
From a visionless sleep
And in that deadest of hours
I began to weep
Perhaps it was the emptiness of the night
That caused the rivers in my eyes to flow
Perhaps it was my sick heart that decided to explode
But when the blackness I saw was the back of my eyes
And no longer the complete lacking of light
My mind revealed this scene to me:
Standing naked in the mirror
Flickering candles
Dancing shadows
My lover behind me, drawing nearer
Holding me warm, close, tight, safe
A kiss on the back of my neck
A fire inside, I need you
Stay
A sharp knife starts to cut
The kind of sharp not felt at first
My lover worked to filet my flesh
Dripping me hot, red, open, scared
He backed away and watched, repulsed
I wrapped my wounds, a slowing pulse...
Saved from my nightmare
By morning demands
My head knows,
Please help my heart understand
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 8:29 AM UTC
Methinks I need an outside day
To ponder the days of June
And how they so stealthily became
The days of July and
Nights of July so hot that
Everyone complains in
Sweat anchored softy-clothes
Here in a cape of Florida
A mosquito named Beauregard Bountiful Belly
Becomes the happiest creature in the swamp
Then became the deadest
Black stain on my arm gallery
No blood to spare, poquito
Blood is thick with boredom
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 12:31 AM UTC
To another shirking duty do I die
Swarmed by specious crowding thoughts that sped
We wed in black, so dreaded black to tie
The altars bones of white that lined our bed
And followed constellations in our heads.
My addled weight of whetstone you've become
With tons of stones in wooden bladed sling
Past summers clouded face hung heaven's sun
On bark you tried to dry the deadest things
And on my strumming soul threadbare you'd sing.
The nightmares ran past colored vats of dye
As shifting shapes geometrized the rune
What dyed the pigment in your furthest eye
Was joined with the paler canvas tones
And cracked the varnished face our pebbled moon.
Mar 9, 2010
Mar 9, 2010 at 3:50 PM UTC
People tend to think it's an act
When you want to **** yourself
And it kind of is
You have to put on an act every day
In order to get through basic ****
Showering,
Eating,
Social interactions,
It's all an act
But you still want to die
That part most definitely isn't an act
That's the most real part of you
The deadest part inside
Is what's keeping you alive
The attention seeking *****
Seeks attention
Because they wonder if anyone actually gives a ****
Or if everyone else is putting on an act, too
Because if all the world's a stage,
And we're all just acting,
Then why not **** off some characters
Shakespeare got rid of Romeo and Juliet
And they were still famous
They were still the stars
And if you can be the star
But still be dead
Then why keep on living
When you're already dead inside
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 11:21 PM UTC
She's a demon with red glowing blood shot eye's
If you catch a glimpse you'll want to die
There is a fire that reside deep inside
Smoke just rolls from up from her lips and nose
And setting on her shoulders is the blackest crows
In her hands she carries the deadest rose
She always lays it on the stoop
Of the nexts victim that she's gonna scoop
Everyday she gets more wise
By feeding on the children's cries
For wisdom God did forsake
For once upon a time she was just a snake
But she grew into human form to make us quake
But with the wailing and sorrow she inflicts
Her knowledge grows and children is what she picks
For their innocents is so pure
It leaves them with scars that for the rest of their lifes they must endure
And leaves them marked there is no cure
Her scars leave them shining like a beacon
And on their souls the other demons will be eaten
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 7:05 PM UTC
No telling what these times will trace along the fabric of our space
Each field of View projects a unique skew to piece in place the larger Screen to Scan the bigger Pattern of this raucous Reality.
Who think You to have Eyes to See such Chaotic Commotion Accurately?
*Shucks, Not Me!!!!
Sweet Stars, Can You??*
Oh my, whatever shall We do?!?
Who's got the latest Smartphone?!
It's time to test for real IQ, this is no laughing matter, hand it over....
"Siri, Where Can I Find Jacob's Ladder??"
Searching. Searching. Blahdditty, Bhahdditty, Bhah....And?
"Ahh for crap, you don't think you can help me with that?!?"
...I won't even bother asking Where Heaven's at, I'm gonna have to check the Bibles, the Gospels, the last of the deadest Sea Scrolls, for sure I'll find some kind of clue, I've got to talk to a representative, and figure out just what to do!!
We'll be in the next millennium before we coordinate an Earth Committee to review...right, Sooo ...hmmmm
Ahhh Soo, here it's been, alas the puzzle pieced...
"Seek First and Ye shall Find, the Kingdom of Heaven lies Within"
Well then, not far to find some kind of satisfactory Solution.
If We all agree it not so necessary to see the Larger Screen...if We simply pay close attention to our own appointed part, all the parts Groove grandly.
Heaven is Here, We find Help within our own Skin, Proper Purpose to Talk to Ourselves in Peace....Plentifully Indeed.
...And Closely with your neighbors, family, and friends...don't got none, there's space right Here, Join In!!
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
In the deadest night on Whistle Hill
a ghostly fog did give me chills
for through the misty, twisting white
I saw swing fro some wild eyes.
Thence broke through a face near cold
yet in his depths was gleaming bold
the darkest shine, did'st tell me nein
stay back, the sloe claims wild eyes.
How I knew, the choice was his
for eyes as those are short to live
but what he wished, I did decide
I thought afraid, his wild eyes
Why shun't he change his look on time
for dark's not dark but in the night
I reached through mist, and soothed his cry
his life had left him child eyes
For child eyes have yet to see
they think they're wild, search for free
they look for lifeless peace of mind
evolving into wild eyes
So now a man on Whistle Hill
searches long, through wind and chill
for'is eyes of old, the quitting kind
lest he might save, those wild eyes.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
Familiar footsteps pave the way before me. Dancing in the impressions of my own every day no matter where I go.
Fast skies and quiet mountains look down on my sluggish frame dragging along to the deadest pace imaginable.
My ankles are heavy. Weighted down by the ties I've made here. Every old memory, every acquaintance tugs on the strings and keeps me here.
My legs are tired.
Each time I lift my feet its just teasing the idea of freedom. I've become jealous of the birds overhead.
Limitless and carefree.
Their songs speak stories of grander pastures. Places I've never been and afraid I'll never go as long as I'm made of concrete.
I was once told that there's a beauty in everything, but I've chiseled away the stone for years and can't seem to see what's i picture in my head.
Maybe it could be the fact that I don't have the right tools. Or maybe it's because I keep hoping for marble in this slab of granite.
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 1:43 AM UTC
I remember when my pillow had a shirt.
Laying in bed every night it was gripped tight
And there were wrinkles not creases
And the silence was so ceaseless
Laying in deadest night made memories my light
The shirt, sized small and plaid.
Now the cold morn feels so warm.
And I know no more old guilt
And it's a lilting life I've built
Distorted social norms
Former perceptions deformed.
A box in a closet, now folds, unworn.
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 12:07 AM UTC
Night binds me blue in blackened silk
elemental sleep stolen by deadest dark
needing rest, comfort, kindness's milk
sifted tears & sobs do leave their mark
still
cold
black
quiet
feels so solitary stark
no escape hatch though I crave release
as wants pull me unto vapoured arms
no succour here I will feel no peace
only bitter pills and swallowed harms
crested light brings harsher days
tattered remnants of coppered dreams
reminds me its the psyche that pays
as fragile silk tears joy at its seams
harsh
bright
bitter
light
of winters mourn
dawns bring the bitten blinded sighs
a glassed in cage for wing clipped birds
oblivion obscura in the masses eyes
ears deadened to my silence unheard
oceans full of childs supple soft bones
his hunters blade glistens the breaks
the wind whispers tortured moans
the sliced knife tip just takes and takes
endless
deep
black
water
the sea swallows me down
Its serene to the point of painful, pretty
this forest where sprites could be at play
no lighter folly for this game is too gritty
secret lair to lead his new lambs to slay
as these vignettes proxy via my dreams
projector unspools reels sickly unsweet
his breath putrefies unpeals my screams
his scent petrifies my heart shale & sleet
hurt
broken
hollow
husk
brittle
a once fierce heart lays flayed.
J.C. littlebird 07/06/2019.
Jun 6, 2019
Jun 6, 2019 at 6:14 PM UTC
follow the moon straight out of sight
I went down the rabbit hole in the deadest dark of night
you aren't alone my friend in thinking you would find your flower deep down in the hollow
I went through the gold glass window at the bottom of the smokey bottle
I woke up in the grass with the glass and the sun in my eye
looking up through a gold glass window
at the beautiful sky
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 9:51 PM UTC
You smell of sour milk
Marijuana
And no flowers
You sound like the sea
In the deadest
Hour
You taste of sugar
Cigarettes
And no sleep
You look like one
Of the thousand
Goldfishes I’ve had
As a kid
I wish I could make you cry
But I’m happy enough
Watching you breath
It would get me so hyped though, man
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC