"deliriously" poems
Kashmir Delirium
Oh People Of Earth! Thankful are we,
For each act of benevolence shown to us.
Your gilded sweet words describing,
The beauty of Kasmir, land and people.
Mention in books and talks of it's riches,
Naming it the Sweet Paradise Of Earth.
The Lord has been bountiful to Kashmir,
Treasure of resources in every sphere.
To elevate each aspect, our wish for life,
As every acre of this land is worth millions.
Full of treasures and recreational value,
Forestry with grandeur and silvery rivers.
The outside world's view is so limited,
Simple folks living in the lap of rich bounty.
Mentioned in world forums and organizations,
But what of the goal of giving us freedom?
What has The UN established in our name?
To measure the pain and anguish we bear,
At the hands, of our supposed benefactors.
The saviours who has us fractured.
But in reality they train their enforcers,
In the art of creating oceans of tears.
The red blood now hidden in camouflage,
The spent shells now gathered and hidden.
The leaders we are told to elect in electoral shams,
Run publicity kiosks and swell friend lists.
Joint conferences to address personal interests
Dialogues that never address the root issues.
Just the formalities and no sympathy,
For the ones burnt in cruel sadistic reprisals.
The hypocrisy continues deliriously unabated,
More augmentation of the security forces.
For a first hand view of deep hypocrisy,
Walk this land, you know as beautiful.
Religious leaders will teach you political artistry,
Sermons full of ambiguity and guile.
Waywardness and narrow mindedness on display,
Political apologists give great lessons.
Religion and religious ethnicity are tools,
That keep minds and bodies in total check.
Gamesmanship by leaders is the rule of thumb,
As promises are forgotten once office is obtained.
When writing of this succulent beautiful land,
Write of the air, pregnant with sadistic practices.
This land is being stripped of worldly treasures,
And the greatest treasure is mistreated daily.
The best of nation is the inhabitants,
Ignored are the real gems of this beautiful paradise.
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 6:44 AM UTC
The obsession you have with the size of your hips.
They should be smaller,
Don't you think?
Oh, and be sure to do whatever it takes to have that thigh gap.
It's so worth it.
That thigh gap.
The more space the better.
The emptiness of your body.
The jutting collar bones.
Feeling dizzy.
Feeling depressed.
Worth every inch lost off your waist.
It is worth your once full and lushious hair now falling out like dead leaves.
Because you're dying.
You are killing yourself.
But it's all fine.
You're obsessed with telling yourself that it's all under control.
Isn't it?
Theres no sleep at night.
Not when your anxiety is this intense.
Not when your up planning how to skip the rest of the weeks meals.
Use that time to be productive.
Like right now.
Lying awake... obsessing.
Obsessing.
Obsessing.
But it's s all fine, right?
Because that thigh gap.
And bony fingers.
You're deliriously falling over every **** time you stand, and you think it's all still fine now?
You think it's still worth it?
Isn't it?
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 10:18 AM UTC
*
*In the terrain of a barren forest
In the forlorn of a lost ship
In the godforsaken-ness of fate
In the inhospitality of people
Either sides of the dunes
There walks Majnun, in rugged clothes
There sings Meera, in wedded bliss
Both - immersed in the dreams of LOVEz
Both delicate, both innocent
Both pure, both true
Both fresh - like budding blooms
Both living in harmony with Nature
Waiting for Krishna's and Layla's arrival
Knowing their BELOVEDz will come
Both - still intoxicated in LOVE
Half closed, drowsy eyes,
Blurred vision, drunkard steps
They walk, dance, sing and fall
Awaiting their LOVERz call
Don't show complete callousness
Do not wake these LOVERz at all
From their disconsolate state of being
Let a dust-storm or lash of rain
Shake their heart and being
As if Krishna and Layla
Have shaken their soul awake
Startled at the LOVER'z touch
Meera and Majnun look around,
Astonished & glancing everywhere
Searching to find their LOVERz
"Where is Krishna? Where is Layla?"
They run wild - deliriously mad
Until they find a mirage & a silhouette
In the blank space of air around them
There they rest - sit and talk
They laugh and chat in LOVE
Only we realize and know that
There is no one around them
Yet only they can see their LOVERz
Only they can feel their BELOVEDz
To play a colorful game of LOVE
Let Krishna give Meera a kiss
Let Meera twirl one more round
Let Layla peck Majnun cheeks
Let Majnun sing one more new ballad
Thus till date they are remembered
As tragedy folk-lore's LOVE
Our tragic LOVERz-BELOVEDz
Our Meera-Majnun
All these happens on
Either sides of the dunes*
*
Jul 25, 2019
Jul 25, 2019 at 11:58 PM UTC
you are just girl enough,
to be a real man...
so stand by me,
be a, be my man-girl,
shave that leathery face,
close and tight,
so I can kiss it smooth,
in front of everybody.
Go off to war, Cyrano,
write me love letters of
incredible tenderness,
poems as yet undreamt
come to me raggedy-man whole,
just enough girl in my man,
to make us both,
deliriously,
weep publicly.
Go ahead man,
write your beloved,
songs of the wars that worry you so,
that you don't show,
you think, I don't know,
but I am tough man tough enough,
plenty~enough,
to be yours,
not just the
woman, but that woman,
your beloved.
that bulge in your rear pocket,
not your wallet,
it's just some pocket tissues
you've been saving
for our reunion.
if you are afraid,
be not, be relieved,
you are just
girl enough,
to be a real man,
and I,
*well, I am tough man tough enough,
plenty~enough,
to be yours,
not just the woman,
but that woman,
your beloved*
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
Do you ever have a moment
that suddenly it SLAMS into you
you are alive.
And seven billion people write the same story. You wonder,
alone in the crowded Seattle-Tacoma airport, if someone
will ever hold your empty heart like the man in a gray business suit
and the woman wearing a striped neckerchief. Will someone ever be upset your flight didn’t depart at the expected time, and give the bouquet of rhododendrons to a stranger. Will someone ever burst into a full sprint
upon first glance at you, deliriously happy that you are
home.
Will someone ever acknowledge that
you are alive, breathing for a change, wishing for a slow dance,
loss of insanity. Will someone ever, in the passengers
of the world,
notice you.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 11:45 AM UTC
Dressed-up words
misguide our naked thoughts
far more than naked thoughts
influence the use of dressed-up words.
Words can be a narcissistic cover-up
or
masks expressing secondary emotions,
even if the wordsmith
is begging to be
needed.
If one desires to communicate
with a purer intent,
to cut through language's sinew
of misinterpretation,
and into truth's marrow,
such communication can happen
within wordless silence
where blooms
touch
waves
salt
sweat
true north,
pantings
in the cold;
the swelling heat
of iron ignition.
When my tongue dissolves the words,
laps up innuendos
and syntax errors of reality
from in-between
the honeyed surface
of language,
over-stimulation
spins me deliriously.
If
this
needs a pause,
a breath to breathe,
to feel the distance,
our wavelengths
will never cease
to communicate.
September 12th, 2015
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
My sister karen was a manhater
she hated all men
deliriously
she would sit on the top
of the bunkbed she shared with sue
and with one finger curl her hair
then pull it out by the roots
it was quite disturbing
she would spend hours
every saturday doing this
until she had almost no hair left
the family worried for her
During the week when I would
come home from school (I think
I was around 7 or 8) karen (being
older and bigger) would run up to me
kick me in the gut
push me to the floor
jump on top of me
grab me by the ears
and pound my head
on the floor until
my brains fell out
this went on for several weeks
until I told my parents and
they finally put an end to it
One night sue didn't want to get caught
eating an apple in bed
so she put the core in the toilet
and it clogged it
we (all four of us)
were awakened in the middle of the night
and had to line up so my mother
could beat us with a belt
until someone confessed
I was tired so I said okay
I did it
I got a good belting that night
I was suspended from school
for a week because the teacher
complained that the welts on my back
were bleeding so profusely that
lt was interrupting the learning process
of the other children
One day I was coming home from school
and I got caught in a hailstorm
I got pelted really good
Lucky for me Mr. Doty was home for lunch
so I took cover under
his light blue ford f-series pick-up truck
hail as big as golf *****
some the size of baseballs
continued to rain down
I don't know for how long
because I fell asleep
"What were you doing under there?"
he questioned as he was shaking my arm
awakening me
(I quess he thought I was messing around
or something)
I came to and stated
"THE GOLF ***** WERE FALLING
I NEEDED A PLACE TO HIDE"
"oh" he said
"you mean to tell me you were in THAT?"
"yessir" I replied
"well, your schoolday's almost over,
maybe you should go home and rest"
"yessir"
And I went home and rested
When karen turned eighteen
she married a wife beater
for nearly ten years he would
ugly 'er up
finally she couldn't take anymore
and divorced him
But she was only following tradition
my grandpa beat his wife
my father beat his wife
and al beat karen
Yep, those three knew
how to really take a beating
But, not from a hailstorm
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 1:51 PM UTC
I long for permanence
Not a rush of euphoria that disappears in an instant
A permanent face
That beams when he meets mine
A permanent heart
That stays loyal as a soldier would for his country
A permanent body
That never allows me to feel its absence
A permanent soul
That would be ready to rescue my every fall
While the world and I longed for these worldly things
It recently struck me how very selfish I have been
To not be in gratitude of He who is the King
He's not mere permanence, he's infinite
I call him 5 times a day
And if I need him more
I just have to raise my two hands and He's there
He gives me wealth when I deserve it,
Love when I need it and least expect it
Pain when I deserve it
How could I complain?
How could I ask for more?
He has all that I need.
But women are women
We crave to feel loved
Some grow impatient
Some succumb to temptations
Deluded, they thought that this worldly love, that is hurting them, is true
I believe that whoever He sends is written for me
And so I shall wait
Daintily patient on calm days
Deliriously in frustration on rough days
But this wait is still a wait
To the lads who are all smitten
Break those walls if you dare
Actions, not words will allow you to overcome these walls
Even if you do, I can't guarantee that you've sealed the deal
Until the right one comes,
I will stand happy and tall
Though I am very well aware
That I am quite small
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 11:40 PM UTC
Teetering on the edge of insanity
Trying to find a center of Gravity
Cutting off my circulation
in order to make this declaration
about my queen-born ability
to walk with such fabulosity.
Though this gown's a monstrosity,
my hair a curiosity,
there's much about this lofty gait
that I did not anticipate.
Like how the swinging of my hips
counters the sway of my fingertips.
Who knew there would be such an orchestration?
A body in concert - a standing ovation!
And every step another encore,
deliriously shouting, "More! More! More!"
And suddenly, the world is new.
I've never seen it from this point of view.
Amazing the difference a few inches can make
to change the reality which I now create.
And though my feet are squeezed like stumps
into these six-inch stiletto pumps,
a testimonial I must profess;
How wonderful it is
to be a boy in a dress.
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
The poet tries
with her words
to create something new
something hitherto unconsidered,
unthought, unspoken
She rakes the dirt for language
that is inimitable and rare
Fighting her way out of
prosaic platitudes
Searching deliriously for
a sharp-edged jolt of ingenuity
that will
awaken and inflame
In this great pursuit of something
clever
to say,
she overcompensates,
birthing a few stanzas
of exaggerated hogwash that inspires
more dismay than satisfaction
Out the window
her poem goes
A little crumpled ball of melodrama
and stale cliché
Then the poet sits in silence
smoldering with displeasure
wanting nothing more than
to finally write something that
works
It is when, radiant with disappointment,
she relinquishes her fantasy of excellence
that the true
poem begins
With rosy wings and
eyes like screaming bullets
it sails forth to proclaim
to declare
to profess without apology
or contrition
the wildest truths of her
soul
It is out of this realm of
deflation and defeat that
true originality is bred
Just a murmur at first, just a glint,
but listen, listen as
it swells into an exquisite roar
and watch,
watch as it rises from
the decay of the past
to flare
in a new light
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 8:36 AM UTC
When the silence takes the stage,
and I am called upon to perform, oh what a fool I shall be.
Dance monkey dance they'll say, and dance I shall.
On all fours I crawl,
your *****
Leash me up
in a tight collar
speaking for your laughter.
Here it is,
my self respect,
I present it to you,
I give it all, unto you.
For I no longer need it.
It's a small price to pay for this life.
It's a simple token
for the price of a fancy gown,
for the reward of approval... from strangers.
To be able to buy that fancy car
To be the envy of it all.
To be admired...
For this handsome repayment
loss of self worth
seems nothing.
and it is nothing
until late at night
when I stare at my skinny bones
in a large
but empty apartment
with the city's lights
shadows dancing out my regrets on the walls,
reminiscing of the whole person I used to be.
when I was someone you could respect...
someone who could say no
and had control
and didn't live under constant contract
and scrutiny of the monster that is the media.
Late at night,
with a morning soon coming,
a morning filled
with my stripped body
contorting itself
and writhing
for the camera
to please a generation I will never know.
To flaunt materialism
and narcissism
expected to sound sagacious
and preach this deceitful verisimilitude
but teaching the youth
to be broken and hateful-
to live with these quixotic expectations.
and
it
is
disgusting.
Yet here I am.
Stripped,
broken and battered,
pouting my photoshop lips
and limp, sick body
to preach it day after day.
For It was so long ago,
that I was respectable.
perhaps I could better remember those days-
but in this life
with a restriction on ennui
you are not allowed to be anything but
deliriously content
and that is not a problem so long as this bottle doesn't run out,
so long as I keep swallowing these pills,
drowning out the voice
that despises me.
So long as I keep on acting.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 1:59 AM UTC
Demagogues of our society; daftly delivering
disarming delusions of decrepit delights.
Dealing in powder, rock and liquid death,
demurely doled out in droves to the
willing unconscious, dysfunctional deviants
of the land.
Blindly offering devotions, flaccid devotions
to plastic, white collar deities; giving new
definition to internal deformity, through
decelerated dejection.
Desperate and emotionally dismembered,
defrauded by quick, cheap decadence,
debauchery, and mental decay in many
deliriously delicious forms...pick a flavor,
name your poison!
Delegate your defect, as those with
doctoral degrees in defunct traditions
do deviously delineate their demented
designs...for our future.
DejaVu?
Perhaps, but in fact, it is we
who sniff, inject and drink up their drivel,
decidedly and dutifully depleted of
intellect by way of dubious data.
Duplicitous dullards...sanitize and
deodorize their fiendish lies...as we,
WE do nothing!
Not enough of us dumbfounded or
dumbstruck by their deceitful smiles.
Full of dread and deep dismay, by
the statutes of the day...I, for one,
will dream of better days, when we
shall defeat these diabolical demons.
But for now, down beaten, downtrodden;
we will continue to be denigrated for
the duration.
Clever dissection; dumb as they want you
to be,
disparity of all creativity...individuality...
and all of your rights...controversially.
Our disgruntled displeasure doomed...to
fall on dormant hearts...and we,
debilitated and daunted, lives dismantled,
are now forever haunted, by our freedoms
demise...by days we could question
their smiling lies.
Demagogues; Big Brother...such delinquents
dosing up the masses with a deluge of powder,
rock sedation and liquid elation...pick your flavor,
name your poison.
At the end of the day WE are ONE...duped,
defaced, defeated...and to continue on this
road, our final denouement will come
disturbingly disguised...as DEATH!
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 3:40 PM UTC
~
There she was chasing a rabbit
with 1 am coffeecakes and weak tea
She didn’t notice I was watching
from the branches of an olive tree
A lone smile hidden amongst
swirling smoke rings in a foreign accent
To the gazebo she ran
with its straw grass tables
and pleated cushions in hibiscus
print fabric no one would sit on
My eyes followed her as she
darted around manicured boxwoods
and cherub statues spitting water
onto sleeping lily pads
She came upon a dandelion
and asked politely, “Pardon me,
but have you seen a…”
The **** interrupted,
“Didn’t, don’t do drama dreams
dancing deliriously down
donut distracted ditches”
“That’s dumb” she replied
with a giggle and a snort
This must be her fun, I think,
trying to catch a white ball of fur,
big, then small,
then smaller still like a
thimble seeking a thread,
when now she is stopped
in her ziggy zagging tracks
by a June bug singing,
“I see, I see, in front of me
Dessert, dessert, set out for free
A chocolate pie, a chocolate pie
in menus written on the sky”
Perplexed she climbed upon its back,
red leather shoulder pads
with black dots changing shapes,
ducking winged arches that
covered the vestibule they
soared through when a sharp turn
pitched her to the opposite side…
Landing with a thud,
her new dress now soiled
between the wrinkles in time
that had ticked away
on a clock faced sun named Ray
She cried carrot tears,
orange sherbet streams
on peach tone cheeks,
marmalade miseries
and mango miscues
piddling on her patent leather shoes,
ready to give up
When it appeared hopping happily,
jumping into her lap
and licking her face
She caressed its fur, removing
sticker burs and scratching
just the right spot, as its right rear leg
thumped with joy
Then lifting the bundled bunny
to her face, she kissed it tenderly
with wild cherry gloss lips,
or should I say…kissed me
for you see, all along, it was me
And you thought I was nothing more than a pretty smile…..
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
i bear the cross of faith
tied down to the angels of
Heaven.
He listens to my praises
like the whisper of windchimes.
a tickling of silver tongues.
in the trying times
He burns in my head
a fireball of glory
a lavish thought in my brain.
He instills fear
He instills pride.
we read the words from His Grace
memorising the holy scripture
pretending like we understand Him
pretending like He
understands us.
the loss of faith is lost upon all.
and so as i sing these monotonous
phrases of glory
inside the church of alabaster
i ask of Him a delirious question
and he would answer deliriously.
a consciousness of oneself.
and as i feel my feet on the floor
the gold tiles freezing my soles
i bring into His Grace
a sinner
i ask myself
i reside in a golden cathedral.
i bear the cross of faith
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 6:09 PM UTC
I've been told I love too fast
That I love like I loved the last
You haven't known me long enough
Just go back to acting tough
But they don't understand what I mean
This "love" word isn't all it seems
It just means that I care a lot
That, for you, I would take a shot
That you can call me when you're sad
Or scream and rant when you get mad
If you get lonely, I'll hold your hand
I'll pull you out of that sinking sand
We may break up, and our paths part
But you will always be in my heart
I hope you are deliriously happy
Because you deserve it
With or without me
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
There is a certain rage I only have for you
it makes me want to burn down buildings
and rescue you from what I alone have caused
nothing can be undone, when the walls
of your castle has been burned down.
I would drown your body in the crystal lake
where I first saw you bathing
as little fawn do with their mother doe
my most rewarding treasure
all mine for the taking
you would still shine brighter
than any jewel deep within the crevices of
unknown planets.
Leading us both to a place
where I feel no guilt
for shredding every piece
of your wardrobe off
with my fangs repeatedly.
Your helpless only I can save you
from yourself
only I can satisfy
your insatiable lust the moon
has showered on your climatic dreams
craving my touch more
leaving you ******** in ecstasy
dripping in sweat, fiending for control
I can provide you with
pining for release
your frenzy for me becomes a danger.
My heart is your dungeon decorated
with violet curtains with fluffy trimming
and a silk golden rope to pull
when you acquire more blood
to fill your whine glass
listening to your screams
please my ear so.
my vernacular will tingle your ears
as I speak of shooting stars
and meteorites.
The darkness within me shall
haunt you if you ever were to escape
this dream paradise
we created with lost thought alone
tormenting your mind
ravishing your body
ten million *** slaves in one
and the light will never dim any lower
than the pure disgust and hatred
of the cellar you are locked in.
A dollhouse of nightmares
made of obsidian bricks
your anxiety and wit
fulfill me to the core
of leaving you empty
so very pale and deliriously in love
the scars from my whip
our fate tied.
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 8:27 PM UTC
This is to provoke your eardrums beating to secrete the excessive cerumen of your lies which flow from your venomous mouth repeatedly bragging that it knows all things.
This is to provoke your eye that is not shut yet only desires to see itself, deliriously worshipping the face, so beautiful and thin that when pinched, a pig slop gushes out.
This is to provoke your feet that have long been wanting to stand up, numbed by their prolonged cross-legged pose, cursing the *** that is comfortably seated on the velvety coconut pulp.
This is plainly to provoke your hands that we're supposed to rely on but have no strength, torpid, and only lusting to **********
This is to provoke you who claim to have been moved but in the end choose to remain still. Numb.
Impotent.
Oct 19, 2020
Oct 19, 2020 at 9:55 AM UTC
I am merely a poet
a writer
an igniter of fire
the designer of a prior desire to admire the harmonious choir
but quick to tire of contriving liars
as the potential buyers hold strangulation wires
about to lay me in a pile of blood soaked fliers until my life expires
and all this illusionary harmony is alarming me
stalling me in its comedy
they think they're disarming me with talks of peace and prosperity
as i hilariously smash their conspiracy theories
as i am seriously furious when i deliriously remove the sanctity from your sanctuaries
sketching lucid rhymes in obituaries as corrupted school kids watch me curiously
i see your timid hands when you approach me nervously
as i hiss cyphers murderously
while you atrociously fumble satisfactory rhymes
i miraculously summon these mumbling mimes
ducking before the holy and unholy shrines
no god but father time
laying low tumbling dimes
still ducking swine from misdemeanor crimes
making local news and the seattle times
as they run and hide with their nines
im packing verbal calibers of all kinds and splitting minds with my lines
enshrined
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 10:57 PM UTC
I summoned the devil
in all the coaxing dulcet tones of a lover
to make a little trade.
He appeared to reply
in something sounding suspiciously like amusement
that contrary to popular belief,
he did not buy souls.
Why, he wondered
would he bother with such trivial humanities?
so I plucked from my chest
the thing in question
that he might know
there are not so many stars in the sky
as neurons firing in my mind.
and I showed him exquisite pain
and deliriously beautiful sadness
anger so searing I shook to contain it
All the things a devil delights in
cannot be felt so deeply as by a soul
that has tasted misery again and again
and lived to wish to tell the tale.
He moaned in half-ecstasy
tones thick with desire
to name my price.
I asked only for peace at last
How cruel!
he cried, not un-admiringly
To make one long for something so desperately
and name a price they cannot pay.
For peace, he said
Can only be found through one's own demons
It comes from acceptance
of one's self entirely; not absence.
So I left,
having wrung good advice
from the devil himself.
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 10:11 PM UTC
Sultry dreams on hot summer evenings,
as wishes on moonbeams take their flight.
Spiraling upward to dance amongst stars,
in a glorious ballet that has no finale.
Ocean’s receding tides cool a body,
heated by a lover’s ardent touch.
With joyful laughter as the couple play,
at the edge of Mother Earth’s bath.
Hand in hand as eyes meet and cling,
hungrily beneath a brightly lit sky.
Passion ignites the fire in their hearts,
setting the embers to glow once more.
Sinking into the sand as hands and lips,
discover each other’s hidden treasures.
Excitement explodes, as love’s scent upon
the breeze is inhaled deliriously by both.
Dawn’s rising sun brings reality, replacing
love’s aftermath with lonely indents in cool,
wet sand, which the tide quickly fills and levels,
Till no sign remains, of a fantasy shared by two.
By Kathleen M. Kohl/Levinski
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC
you are white musk smoky rose
burning embers of a forest fire emanating sweet smoke
you are a fresh white wash of paint
bright and vibrant and you make everything else look tasteful and inviting
you are dewy lips and sunken-in eyes
heart shaped cupid’s bow and crystal iris’
you are winter when everybody wants summer
you catch icicles in the palms of your hands
and the bitter cold runs through your fingers
and i never did like the heat
you are a mirrored maze of thoughts bouncing back and forth and straight through
and sometimes when you get lost i am the echo that pulls you back to real life
that pulls you back to consciousness and dusty television stands full of 2D fiction
i am the echo that tells you it’s okay to be just as lost in reality as you are in the mirrored maze of your meandering mind
you are black musk misty rose
burning forest fires to ash and decay
destruction and disarray
you are a mysterious black wash of paint
dominant and demanding and you show others how to be bright beside you
you are hollow cheeks and lack of sleep
sheepish glow and bloodshot tunnel vision
you are winter and nobody wants summer anymore
they want to be feel icicles melt in the palms of their hands
they want to feel the bitter cold run through their fingers
they don’t like the heat anymore
you are a glass maze of treasured thoughts and i see straight through
i am the echo that pulls you back to real life
that pulls you back to consciousness and overused vinyl players
and they want to listen to your music but they don’t want to take a walk around your glass maze yet i have completed it hundreds of times
i will always be the echo that tells you it’s okay to be just as lost in reality as you still are even when the maze is made of glass because it is still as fragile
you are red musk desirable rose
burning embers of a forest fire to ash and decay and destruction and disarray and making it look so ******* beautiful
you are a scarlet red wash of paint
lustful and deliriously enticing and you show others how to love that which should not be loved
you are sun kissed freckles and unkempt hair
loved by that which should not be able to love and imperfectly perfected
you are winter and summer, you are autumn and spring
i still want to feel icicles melt in the palms of my hands like my heart did in yours when i first kissed you
i want to feel the bitter cold warm up on contact with my skin and transform something solid into liquid – a chemical reaction similar to the one that happened inside my head because of you
i love the cold
i love the heat
your mirrored, glassy mind will always be a maze but i am patient and i will always be your echo
you are white musk smoky rose
you are black musk misty rose
and you are red musk desirable rose
and i love every shade to you
every mood
every scent
always
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC
Smiles
On my face
I don't think
It's just
The alcohol
And drugs
It may not
be poetic
To be
Deliriously
Happy
for a moment
So
For your sake
I'll say it's sandwiched
'Tween episodes
of soul biting
angst
It's not tho
it's just
I've decided
Copyright@2018 Dennis Willis
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 11:51 PM UTC
I wonder how one who lives by the sea
can ever truly believe that love doesn’t exist.
Do you not see the desperation in the way
the waves pound endlessly to the shore?
They crash deliriously on the rocks,
and it reminds me of how I want you:
infintely, eternally, like the stars.
I am so tired of this sick, dysphoric feeling I get in the pit of me,
a dull ache in my bones.
I keep going:
I purse my lips and choke on my flowery words.
I won’t pretend to be a poet anymore.
I’m sorry, but I don’t want you to just love me ironically,
or kiss me sarcastically,
or undress me metaphorically.
I want this to be honest and pure.
I don’t need a love song sung at dawn,
or towers built in my honor.
Sunsets and moonlight are not for you, I understand.
I just want to feel you breathe against me in timed rhythms.
Rise, peak, fall.
I need this.
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 5:34 PM UTC
The bomb blast tore like a new toy.
Science who ranks as distemper
outshone the future.
Scribes of contemporary fore
deliriously notated
the torn ligaments.
Opiates scream dying life
The bomb blast imploded
our unspoken rationale
short of Humanity.
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 3:45 PM UTC
There I go down on my knees,
And let me just tell you its not my first time.
This is not what I want, let me put it simply...
I'm ******
Do you hear me screaming?
No you don't, No you don't.
This is me crying out deliriously.
I want love, I want attention...
I want a ******* chance.
Your not givin' it up and I can't stand the sight of you...
or you, or you.
No, let me rephrase this.
I am delirious from starvation.
I am not eating or sleeping
And my insides are twisting
And I am missing these arms that I created to hold me,
For you see my mind has now left me.
I see you there and
I want so badly for that girl to be here...
right here... but she's not.
So I am on my knees with this load in my mouth,
metaphorically and literally.
Does anyone ******* hear me!?
Does anyone see me becoming smaller and smaller until one day I am nothing more than your old favorite pair of sneakers, worn out and torn.That you put in a bag and gave to Goodwill, that now lies in a landfill smelling of ****
Aug 25, 2011
Aug 25, 2011 at 4:30 PM UTC