"denys" poems
I am weary of lying within the chase
When the knights are meeting in market-place.
Nay, go not thou to the red-roofed town
Lest the hoofs of the war-horse tread thee down.
But I would not go where the Squires ride,
I would only walk by my Lady’s side.
Alack! and alack! thou art overbold,
A Forester’s son may not eat off gold.
Will she love me the less that my Father is seen
Each Martinmas day in a doublet green?
Perchance she is sewing at tapestrie,
Spindle and loom are not meet for thee.
Ah, if she is working the arras bright
I might ravel the threads by the fire-light.
Perchance she is hunting of the deer,
How could you follow o’er hill and mere?
Ah, if she is riding with the court,
I might run beside her and wind the morte.
Perchance she is kneeling in St. Denys,
(On her soul may our Lady have gramercy!)
Ah, if she is praying in lone chapelle,
I might swing the censer and ring the bell.
Come in, my son, for you look sae pale,
The father shall fill thee a stoup of ale.
But who are these knights in bright array?
Is it a pageant the rich folks play?
‘T is the King of England from over sea,
Who has come unto visit our fair countrie.
But why does the curfew toll sae low?
And why do the mourners walk a-row?
O ‘t is Hugh of Amiens my sister’s son
Who is lying stark, for his day is done.
Nay, nay, for I see white lilies clear,
It is no strong man who lies on the bier.
O ‘t is old Dame Jeannette that kept the hall,
I knew she would die at the autumn fall.
Dame Jeannette had not that gold-brown hair,
Old Jeannette was not a maiden fair.
O ‘t is none of our kith and none of our kin,
(Her soul may our Lady assoil from sin!)
But I hear the boy’s voice chaunting sweet,
‘Elle est morte, la Marguerite.’
Come in, my son, and lie on the bed,
And let the dead folk bury their dead.
O mother, you know I loved her true:
O mother, hath one grave room for two?
2.2k
Said forever isn't my word
never knew you would turn it into a sword
digging deeper until it hurts
Though our fights were the worse
cause there were actually never the fights.
But now i see this empty space,
it feels like an ultimate sway just to chase
I told myself it's over, good and enough
but then again i wish it was none
and as you comes by
all my thoughts flys away
as if like they never exist
all my compliants seals away
as if like they were meant to be
all my hurt heals away
as if like it have to be
I'm telling it that was good and enough
and it denys as if it is all rough.
craving and hoping for renewal
May 10, 2022
May 10, 2022 at 12:53 PM UTC
To be lonely in this world is to have someone you love, but can't be with them. Its when your family denys you making you feel like you're nothing.
To be lonely in this world is when your father is alive, but is never there when you need him. Its when the person you love with all your heart is contimplating walking away.
There are some people who wish to be alone and completely on their own. Those who wish to embrace lonelyness I would gladly give them what they want. I would let them take it, because I have been alone for much too long. If they want it they can take it and never give it back.
Jul 23, 2010
Jul 23, 2010 at 5:54 PM UTC
I couldn’t beat the ceiling fan,
or that wonderful breeze.
Closing my eyes at 4 in the morning
is a plea for something better. An electric chair
wake up call.
Then I think I can get famous
for writing my sweet nothings on a bathroom stall.
But falling asleep on drugs , I’m wondering , “Where the **** am I”
Then it’s a Denys and it’s 3 hours earlier
And we’re all shooting **** while Fried potato
sticks twist around in our mouths.
You were talking life
and all these pretty words you’d never seen,
I was too high to care.
But the come down left my stomach
like an old gravel road.
I wanted to throw up hot asphalt.
But you smiled like “Let’s light up again”.
I ran to take a ****
Hid in the bathroom and picked up a pen.
Then wrote out.
“4:00am and you’re too ****** to know I can’t stand
you now. Here’s a note, and a ten. Get a cab
and good luck with the rest of your life.”
That’s what best friends are all about.
Rotting together in each other’s ********
But God that ceiling fan is good.
Clicking away like a countdown clock
on a stick of dynamite.
Looking forward to that sweet mid 20’s self destruction,
I assure you.
-Kevin T 6/16/10
Jun 16, 2010
Jun 16, 2010 at 2:48 AM UTC
The moment love ends!
The fear of starting over
Thought of never finding love
Or feeling worthy of it
It takes time to heal the stubborn hear is locked
On the person won Denys and rejects you most
You can't replace it feels wrong
Others show love but the heart is reserved
Always thinking of what shoulve
Or wonder what couldve been.
Others unworthy of love
Because it's not true love
Moving forward is hard
But trust one day true love will find you
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 3:27 PM UTC
Little boy stands,
In his empty room.
He's got nothing to do,
'Cept to crawl back in the womb.
Stands by himself,
Not one person at his side.
Voices inside him speak,
But he'll always deny.
Denys that they're there,
Denys that he cares.
Denys the looks and stares,
Denys the cross he bears.
Bi-polar fish out of water,
Flops around his own life.
Makes his way to puddle of water,
To only find a puddle of knifes.
Cannon ***** in,
Happy and glad.
Sinks further in,
Submerged and mad.
Denys that they're there,
Denys that he cares.
Denys the looks and stares,
Denys the cross he bears.
Tries to swim out,
Cuts paint the scales.
Fish drowns in blood,
His own gills have failed.
Little boy stands,
Watches it bleed.
Takes the fish in his hands,
***** out the life he so desperately needs.
Denys that they're there,
Denys that he cares.
Denys the looks and stares,
Denys the cross he bears.
Fish guts and blood,
Pour into his mouth.
Eyes open wide,
Life headed south.
Finished he licks his lips,
And grins a big smile.
The boy's life now has meaning,
The meaning is his denial.
Denys that they're there,
Denys that he cares.
Denys the looks and stares,
Denys the cross he bears.
Denys the den eyes...
Apr 7, 2012
Apr 7, 2012 at 1:39 PM UTC
The world as I see it?
What kind of question is this?
The world as I see it,
has fallen with fists.
The violence, the fear,
the world bathes in rage.
And more has developed
as our world faces age.
The human heart
has become quite cold.
The story of peace
is no longer told.
The Earth is decaying
and dying today.
And inncoent souls
are passing away.
Shawdows of hate
have plagued this lost land.
This forsaken world
denys Gods command.
But there is still hope!
Our love is not lost.
Words spoken of peace
will come at a cost.
The world as I see it
has much more to learn
to heal the black scar
from the Devils Harsh Burn.
Mar 26, 2010
Mar 26, 2010 at 6:20 PM UTC
Shed all the pain of past hurtings,
It taints your furure,
Forgive.
Remove fear of future disappointments,
It denys you laughter,
Believe.
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 7:36 AM UTC
De jeunes écoliers avaient pris dans un trou
Un hibou,
Et l'avaient élevé dans la cour du collège.
Un vieux chat, un jeune oison,
Nourris par le portier, étaient en liaison
Avec l'oiseau ; tous trois avaient le privilège
D'aller et de venir par toute la maison.
À force d'être dans la classe,
Ils avaient orné leur esprit,
Savaient par cœur Denys d'Halicarnasse
Et tout ce qu'Hérodote et Tite-Live ont dit.
Un soir, en disputant (des docteurs c'est l'usage),
Ils comparaient entre eux les peuples anciens.
Ma foi, disait le chat, c'est aux égyptiens
Que je donne le prix : c'était un peuple sage,
Un peuple ami des lois, instruit, discret, pieux,
Rempli de respect pour ses dieux ;
Cela seul, à mon gré, lui donne l'avantage.
J'aime mieux les athéniens,
Répondait le hibou : que d'esprit ! Que de grâce !
Et dans les combats quelle audace !
Que d'aimables héros parmi leurs citoyens !
A-t-on jamais plus fait avec moins de moyens ?
Des nations c'est la première.
Parbleu ! Dit l'oison en colère,
Messieurs, je vous trouve plaisants :
Et les romains, que vous en semble ?
Est-il un peuple qui rassemble
Plus de grandeur, de gloire, et de faits éclatants ?
Dans les arts, comme dans la guerre,
Ils ont surpassé vos amis.
Pour moi, ce sont mes favoris ;
Tout doit céder le pas aux vainqueurs de la terre.
Chacun des trois pédants s'obstine en son avis,
Quand un rat, qui de **** entendait la dispute,
Rat savant, qui mangeait des thèmes dans sa hutte,
Leur cria : je vois bien d'où viennent vos débats :
L'Égypte vénérait les chats,
Athènes les hiboux, et Rome, au capitole,
Aux dépens de l'état nourrissait des oisons :
Ainsi notre intérêt est toujours la boussole
Que suivent nos opinions.
622
There is no other way. Either you forget the lies you've been fed all your life or waste yourself away, to chase a fabricated truth.
Man is only free when he breaks up with those lies, when he denys everything and becomes ruler of his own reality - but that demands sacrifice, and is harder than anything imaginable. In fact, it could well be the hardest thing you'll ever have to do in your life: to demolish an entire temple and be left with nothingness.
It means you must be able to see yourself for what you truly are and accept that your reality is what you make of it.
It also means you must be prepared to blame yourself for your failures, just as you would eagerly blame yourself for your successes.
Those who believe that man can rule another man, that lust and feasts are the answer to solitude and boredom, that love can be bought and worn like a badge for the world to see.
Those who name a king a king, who give church the greenlight to do their bidding. Those who fiercely believe that man has what it takes to wield the gods and bestow their will.
Those will say many things to contradict your reality and your dreams, because their reality and dreams are the greater good. Those that see you and me like a means to an end. But we can spot them. Their system is flawed, and that would be ok: because man is flawed. But they won't accept their own reality. They will remain untouched, in ther little shiny rooms with mirrors. Twisted until the end.
Well, it's your death in the end. That's all you should know, all you should care about. It should be enough to tell you what kind of life you need to live. Because all else is a farse.
What the other writers of past centuries have wrote is true. And the truth prevails anything. No matter how many generations pass and take the wheel, the sullen play goes on, with or without you.
Your dreams will be crushed, and your failures noticed.
But you only lose if you give a ****
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC