"demises" poems
I need only to smirk and you’re mine
Anytime
If it’s god that you want
I have dozens in mind
Devilishly divine
Bending time like a grandeur delusional
Spine
In a mad hatter ectoplas-mystical slime
A prismatic drug addict’s first nursery rhyme
Of accursed hearse verses of graphic design
Now to lay to rest intellect spectacles musing
Of selves glorified more than those of my choosing
To deify Destiny’s
Deathly serenity
Plentifully sending me vibrant surprises
And penning my ending in violent demises
Disguises surmised by the climate arises
Girl always there riding my similar waves
As I try to save face digging mechanized graves
But the cloud tentacles
To the depths
Drag me down
To demented ascension
Black holes in the ground
Where disciples of light
And my huntress in white
Vivify me by day
Resurrect me at night
To instruct and deduct
Reasoning in a state
Of a being supreme
Contemplating its fate
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 4:52 PM UTC
I
And suddenly it is mid-October,
Everything is ablaze with color, all of the leaves
Are descending, the air is comfortably cool,
The sun reminds me of the approaching equinox,
The earth is standing still, it’s lovely, enchanting,
The scent of fresh apples engulfs me, hello autumn.
II
Gourds grace our front doorstep, autumn,
Don’t you love them, don’t you love October,
The way the leaves crunch, their demises are enchanting,
But did they ever die, I don’t know, they are just leaves,
But they are autumn, they hug the equinox,
Love its embrace, its temperature drop, so cool.
III
Where are my sweaters, it’s getting cool,
But I’m not worried, it’s only autumn,
It’s only a Halloween equinox,
Time is changing, it is still October,
But things are changing, even the leaves,
The fire is fading, but it’s still enchanting.
IV
Hello autumn, have you seen the leaves?
Hello October, are you ready for the equinox?
Prepare for enchanting colors and temperatures cool.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 12:50 PM UTC
His eyes were galaxies reflected in the vortexes of her heart
Shimmering nothings she loved to be lost and found in
Whenever he gazed upon a horizon or tabletop or cup of tea
She could almost see
What he saw set off the foreshocks in her own soul
Capricorn kaleidoscopes and faerie fliers
Of flaking eternities and sauntering demises
Eyes brimming with the untold fantasy of the pinned butterfly
He could see over the folds of Time
(carpet smothering bodies of resistance)
Second hands writhing from the slither of reversible realities
Eyes dripping smoke from the burning within him
He had a beauty no one could envy
For he was the eighth wonder
That he managed to survive in this world
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
The poor are blessed.
Those that hunger are blessed.
Those that cries are blessed.
Those that feels hated, are blessed.
Those that demises others, are blessed.
Except, it's up to us to mirror an image way above this earth.
One good deed has a mutiple of rewards to come.
Just one good deed showcases your love.
When you're in high spirit.
You are blessed.
When you feel you undeserving.
You are blessed.
We find many of times that our luck is around the corner.
We must believe, we are blessed.
Just to be loved.
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 11:41 PM UTC
score on score of them are laid
score on score of them have killed and maimed
score on score of them in jungles and in fields
score on score of them dot the Afghan lands
score on score of them have been detonated
the touching of a mechanism
with an unsuspecting foot
the tearing of flesh
the splintering of bone
the rivers of red blood
prosthesis fitted
to permit walking again
without an artificial foot
no steps
can be gained
score on score
the damage everlasting
injurious landmines
blasting
score on score
the toll of dead rises
landmine activity brings
many demises
somewhere on our planet
a man, woman of child
has had a limb
thoughtlessly torn away
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC
we get high on playground sets
without a scrape or bruise
masters of hiding seek, we got nothin else to lose
shining like gold stars, empty as outer space
too young to tell time, so anywheres the right place
guard up taking shots in the rooms we learned to walk in
glassy eyes on the dresser prayin no ones gonna walk in
grew up without a past, time movin way too fast for us
threw out all our watches close your eyes take a drag with us
down the ***** streets playin hop scotch and jump rope
red rovers long gone like we're too lost to come home
backyards blowin dro, fast cars, slow-motion
no parents no phones light up with no emotions
what happened to sleep overs or long nights alone
without repressed conflicts sparking up a bowl
this neighborhood isnt big enough for adventures
this surburban paradise is slowly wasting away
with our old childhood games
the playground is rusting, our jumpropes are gone
the lady who gave us snickers on halloween has passed on
like the lightning bugs we caught in jars
the only thing that hasnt changed are the perfectly manicured lawns
hiding our demises in a cinderella jewelry box
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 2:07 AM UTC
i could tell you stories that have mystery and ******
the hero solves the crime and gets the girl
he brings order to the world
i could tell you tales of woe with villains of so tragic
you'll watch your back when you think no one's around
stories for you
with a twist of plot and a happy ending too
protagonists and catalysts
and villains who's untimely demises are surely not to be missed
tragedy as shakespeare would have wished
stories for you
with the star-crossed lovers that make you feel brand new
listen to the stories
all for you
Mar 20, 2010
Mar 20, 2010 at 9:20 PM UTC
observed in
our empty lots,
italicthere's still the timeitalic
to plot
our demises in the eyes
of our own ****** lovers
italicas they slowly beginitalic
in catching
our drifting lies
that we've so carefully hidden
italicthroughoutitalic
our over-planned
and our over-justified
senseless lives.
italicyet, we give themitalic
a purpose
for the time that we fill
with self-dulling
italicideasitalic
and our own
revelations
of this
italicidealistic fantasy.italic
we've fantasized for fun.
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 1:17 AM UTC
Except for family members.
Where most of us just be ourselves?
We actors of the world?
We, who pretends to like our enemies?
Does so to keep them close?
We, who demises liars?
Stay a step ahead to cover us.
We venture through our daily journey
not bent on hurting anyone.
We do have a defense system that on a given moment.
Will come to the defense of us.
Like a comedian seeking laughters.
When the joke doesn't deserve one.
We slightly laugh.
Or question's the ones that does.
We actors of the world.
Not seeking to win any type awards.
We see politicians tear one another down.
Then the losing candidate smile like their was no harm done.
After they have dug up dirt to embarass many innocent ones.
Yes, we of humanity.
Are the true actors of the world
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 8:43 AM UTC
“Whose heart was breaking for a little love”
L.E.L
Poetesses of old
How I wish that I could fold
You all in my arms –
You who suffered for your art,
Were never recognised or prized,
But who spun lyrics of
Ardour, wit and truth,
Anguish, love and ruth.
It brings tears to my eyes
To think of your lonesome demises;
But your legacy lives on –
Through your pain you made us strong,
Soothed us and moved us
As we perused your
Versified versions of life;
So I thank you
Christina Rossetti,
Elizabeth Barrett Browning,
Letitia Elizabeth Landon –
For when you were told to do nought
You must have sat down and thought
You were worth more than
Motherhood and chores and
So you wrote and you rhymed;
In short, I am inspired.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 5:59 PM UTC
Oh, here they go again.
Debating as enemies then like friends.
Oh, we listen.
We fight for each side.
While surrounding our truth in their lies.
And, we watch one numbers rises in the polls.
While in general even those numbers are planted.
Least in someway slanted.
It's the great debate.
Where candidates works to determine our fate?
Notice those that smart.
Think they know.
When those that demises liars.
Know they right.
When it comes to the great debate.
We vote.
We argue.
And we adjust to the winner.
Even , if we don't see truth in any of them.
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 8:26 PM UTC
O, but the gracious pardons
do give leave for weary sin...
Or do make way for lovers departed,
to solely bare the weight within?!
Strangely thought one man can face a crisis,
but one man does all he can...
Until his foolishness arises;
surely you'd think, one would've had a plan!
O, how folly of me and of my dream...
As it slowly demises!
Beloved oblivion!
A.r. Bazian
Written in 2010
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 9:59 PM UTC
a scream of soul-
I DARE TO DREAM
encourage
discouraging
COURAGE.
my days gone by you do not know,
you do not know what i have seen!
so when i whisper in your ear
the truth about a moment
"i dare to dream, i dare to dream"-
i scream!
into the starless void.
then out of darkness there arises,
the iris star of past demises-
gone!
gone with the scream,
vibrations scare the dark away
so only real dreamers will stay-
for who are they,
but beacons of vibration,
of hope for realization?
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 9:10 PM UTC
observed in
our empty lots,
there's still the time
to plot
our demises in the eyes
of our own ****** lovers
as they slowly begin
in catching
our drifting lies
that we've so carefully hidden
throughout
our over-planned
and our over-justified
senseless lives.
yet, we give them
a purpose
for the time that we fill
with self-dulling
ideas
and our own
revelations
of this
idealistic fantasy.
we've only fantasized for fun.
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 1:18 AM UTC
Spring Blossoms, Flowers Bloom
It's the start of season's beginnings,
And the end of winter dooms.
The beginnings of life
Terminations of death.
The birth of many loves
As well as its demises
The peace is subsiding
And war is dawning.
For in the fields of nature
Every blade of grass,
Every flower pedal,
Counts for every minuscule effect
That nature has on our mind's eye.
But every ray of light
And all the drops of rain
Mark the rise and fall of life
And the journeys within.
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 5:06 PM UTC
there is something in the daily fluorescence of grocery stores that gets to me like falling apart on bathroom floors and getting screamed at by angry fathers just does not
because they have not witnessed demises like mine but they have witnessed endings of careers
lost children
the breaking of more glasses than i have hearts
and there is something comforting in reveling in the very essence of a place that has witnessed both destruction
and change in a way that results in grocery store labyrinths
being all too similar to the twisting and turning of my head.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 8:53 PM UTC
Worrier of the world
We reap what we sow
Forget the answers to
questions once asked
Plea for forgiveness
Holding on tightly,
As if it were our last
Clinging to the brink of death
We remember to forget
We remember to forget
You can’t escape the inevitable
It won’t last
We get lost in metaphors
and allegories and rhymes
None of which make any sense
History repeats itself everyday
We remember to forget
We remember to forget
The blinding bridges
The winding pathways
That led us to demises
we never knew existed
Before reality hit us
Like a ton of bricks
hidden in a sock
We’re all lost, lost
In a tangled web of all the lies
we've been told
The eyes we peered into
Weren't the windows to the soul
But an open doorway
To secret realms we had
yet to explore
We raged fires on and on
Into the dead of night
We remember to forget
We remember to forget
What future truly lies ahead
For all of us, we’re borrowers of time
leaking off the mysterious invisible clock
The hands are broken, and we simply forgot
All that ever was, will eventually be lost
Never to be found again, buried so deeply
Bulldozers will be summoned to unearth
The secrets we shoveled into the ground
Some long lost years ago
We remember to forget
We remember to forget
So we can all rest peacefully
when we finally lose our heads.
© 2014 Christina Jackson
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 12:24 AM UTC
There's a lot of thought that goes into three simple words.
You learn them when you are young but the gravity of using them correctly haunts you into adulthood.
In english these are words that you would use to describe a parent or a tree and the meaning doesn't really change but the weight these words hold are different now than they were when you meant then towards a relative or an inanimate object.
you love her... and the scary thing is this idea that she might love you too. and that scares the hell out of you because you have thought you have loved in the past but those other loves have all proven how shallow they truly were and yet you choose to use those same words again to express these new feelings.
Feelings so profound that you swear that this time this is the real deal that you have never felt to intensely about anything before and you think that you never will feel anything so intense ever again. but somewhere there is just enough room for doubt.
maybe you have flelt this before in a more pure and potent form but you take a leap of faith in hopes that while it may not be today but one day you'll know that this is the genuine article...
But yeah maybe it's not... and that scares you but a holy man once told you that without faith love cannot be known and so you believe as hard as you can that this is love... the same love that drove romeo and juliet to their untimely demises and broke kingdoms long before their times...
You don't want this to be a lie... you want to love her with all of your heart... and yeah it'll be hard to do that... but you can do it... keep trying...
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 4:01 AM UTC
I know what you'r thinking. Oh, I can't believe that little girl did that; she was so sweet, I wonder what went wrong, blah, blah blah... I can see it in your eyes. high-pitched laughter. Yes, I killed those girls. But they deserved it. They had gifts. The actress, the singer, the model, the dancer, the painter, the musician, and the writer. They were all so talented. And they didn't appreciate any of it! They took all of it for granted!!! Now, now look at me. I'm nothing compared to them. A good singer, but never the best. Pretty, but never the prettiest. Smart, but never the smartest! I was doing them a favor. I was doing everyone a favor!
But by doing this. I'm finally good at something. I'm finally known for something. I won't call this a gift that I take for granted. I won't be like those girls. I don't take this granted. pause But wait, I'm not done yet, I would like to request to go on with my story, and reasons, and I would also request you wipe that look off your face. I'm not crazy. I was just jealous, and sad, and angry.
Now, I won't go into details about each of their similar, tragically beautiful demises, I would imagine you already know how that all went. I just need to know that you know that I was doing something for the good of everyone. Hell, this was for the good of the world. It's just like anything anyone else would do. Just to make a statement. Isn't that why people do anything anymore?
Hey! Where are you going?! You can't walk away just because you're disgusted! You can't try to make yourself different from me!!!
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 2:40 AM UTC
we belong to the starving places, the broken places,
the screaming, shattered, hallucinated alleys
of blood and smoke and demons of shuddering righteousness.
floating lovers running high and poison-drunk
into doorways and neonic windows crying out
for absinthe and holy, holy benzedrine
in glazed teacups of library cafés.
demonic siren-songs,
shrieking car alarms in afternoon machineries,
when all the righteous are sleeping
and the chosen come out to scream
in front of shutters closed down to the ******
vibrations from the drilling drilling drilling
into the pavements of greying rain-tears and rainbowed gasoline
spilled carelessly from engines
releasing rotten and evil from the deepness of the earth.
those righteous-shutters blow half open
in the madness of waxing moon-winds.
beautiful, beautiful darkness,
beautiful, beautiful damnation,
golden deception,
golden lucifer,
golden hell,
golden lights straying off pathways of dark-deep forests,
golden souls in eager rivers of underworlds,
golden addiction,
golden smiles of torture,
golden wheels of death and birth
and dying, dying, dying for the darkness,
dying with blood running purple
into the indigo road- drains of night,
reflecting golden constellations and golden lamp-posts
and the golden windows of empire state and the l-train.
scream, scream, scream into your indigo death.
fearful, ground-sleeping, six feet forgotten,
fires below, regret above, redemption and tears from the righteous
with their closed windows far above the bodies now.
those starving places belong to us.
the dumpster-fainted concussions,
the vomited acids of last night’s drunken affairs in amber side-streets,
the hollow-eyed babies born out of terror and war
and atomic demises of love and perforated money,
those flawlessly created youths with their drugged immortality
shining broken-skinned from out of their eyes and mouths
those nothing-brained men of poetry and heavenly visions,
those meilleurs esprits,
those wanton dreamers of scotch and rosé
and pure ethanol gulped from glassware,
burning throats and minds and talent
and running genius into drains
with the purple blood of the dying.
the starving places belong to the starving,
and the starving belong to their indigo deaths.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 5:57 PM UTC
there is dancing the the downpour,
and sadness in the sun.
there is calmness in the uproar,
and misery in all the fun.
there is black in all the white,
and grays between the colors
there is serenity in each fright,
and betrayal between two brothers.
for life is not two roads diverged,
or false dichotomies.
life will slap you in the face
and bring you to your knees
but life will help you rise again
before your drop back down
and life will bring you endless love,
and force your lips to frown.
life is full of the best of gifts,
and the worst surprises .
the secret is learning all the tricks,
and expecting it's demises.
for life can only cause such pain
to those who will allow.
for those few souls who play the game,
nirvana, you have found.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 6:14 PM UTC
tonight
i placed the sheets over my head
no light
black
black
but my eyes were open
watching
wide
imagining,
seeing things that i shouldn't
my brain drawing
up
demises for my life that can't be stopped.
songs
do not calm me down.
only the brutality
of screaming into my pillow
and crying so hard
that
my eyes hurt and swell and
ache
when they slowly blink afterwards
calms me down
because after that,
i have nothing else to give.
i have no energy left
no emotions
no more excess feelings
that have built up over the day
or days
or week
that need to be set free.
i would love to die
i would like
to go to the top of a hotel
or an apartment building in the busy city
the lit city
the bustling city that's moving
too fast for me
when it's warm at night and dark
gray
in the sky
stars twinkling
my eyes gazing,
swiping over the constellations i do not know.
i would like to sit there
and listen to a sad, simple song on
repeat for
years.
i would like to sit there
on the ledge
for so long that my fear of heights is no more
so i have time
to reminisce
to think
to
to close my eyes
and remember.
i would want the gray night to last forever
i would want to slip into
a universe
where it's always that way.
listening to my song,
swinging my feet over the ledge
as i remember
my family members' faces
the stupid things i've done
my mistakes
my accomplishments
the good
the bad
the significant
how i was loved
and then try to forget,
but fail.
and then jump
and hear the simple song still playing in my head as i fall
cutting through the atmosphere
hear it through the wind screaming in my ear.
and
over
over
it will be over
and that
is how i'd enjoy dying.
under the weeping stars
and
grimacing moon
on the cracked,
stained,
littered
sidewalk
with a beautiful song in my mind
and
beautiful faces as well.
Dec 27, 2015
Dec 27, 2015 at 6:56 PM UTC
I hear them come quick
in short little fits.
Tainted bursts lifted out of lungs thick with poison.
Deal with this.
"Yo, pass that ****
Glide through mists of green grass, red brick, and grey stone.
This is not my backyard.
"Please stay with me so I'm not all alone."
Pale fingers on a quest to make contact with skin.
"I'm so overwhelmed, I don't know where to begin."
I'm never going back home again.
It doesn't even exist.
She says there's a system.
God made all the rules and set it in motion,
then calmly walked away
to leave us to our own devices (enterprises, surprises, demises)
Come what may.
"There's a philosopher who said that some people spend too much time playing with the meaning of objects in their heads. It can get to a point where nothing makes any sense, and they go crazy. Some of these people find a way to describe it, and they're known as poets."
The moon knows better than anyone,
with her sly smile reflected off the lake,
and all that light stolen from the sun.
"Do you know what I wish?"
No, and please, don't finish.
We are far from being done.
Let's not end it before we've begun.
This is my backyard.
If I'm just a zero,
then you are the one.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 2:15 AM UTC
Under
The canopy tree
My shelter
Of light
Pulled me
Into its shadow
And
There
Operosely so
I remembered:
In memorization
Of varied
Maths
And
The columns they path
And
How they became
Feminine
And all about how
She looked and felt
Underwater
She was
Pale
And
Pearl
And diamond light
Off shore
And
Off the shoulder
My boat still afloat
Yet her waves indeed
The sinking of me
But then
In the peril
Of natation
The shiver
And the taste of salt
What entered my heart
Was the same
As filled up my lungs:
Anticipation:
The microcosm of
Pain
Or pleasure
Or both demises
At once
Aug 17, 2020
Aug 17, 2020 at 8:19 AM UTC