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Terry O'Leary Sep 2015
1
Though still within our infancy,
we strive to thrive, but woefully
we flash and flaunt our 'primacy',
display our trophies pridefully.

Our terra firma ecstasy
destroys survival's harmony,
lays waste to life on land and sea.
Mankind, thy name is vanity!

By doubting Nature's regnancy,
defying laws with levity,
we strain our spheroid's symmetry
(perhaps a fatal fallacy?)

for, swallowed in the 'world of we',
we feed on vain insanity
with thoughts beyond eternity -
so strange when looked at mortally.

No use to seek a remedy
ensconced in ancient prophecy
for if not handled skillfully,
as clay we'll pay the penalty.

                              2
The Moguls rule with cruel decree,
control the crowds like puppetry,
pursuing greed addictively
with no accountability.

The wind, it reeks of Royalty
(awash in waves of perfidy)
while blowing ’cross the peasantry
(eclipsed in clouds of treachery).

The Queen, well steeped in snobbery,
sits, preening proud Her pedigree,
on throne of sculpted ebony
while sipping Sect immodestly;

to sate Her Regal Majesty,
a caviar clad canapé
is served with golden cutlery
by maidens bent submissively.

The King is bailed from bankruptcy
by Knaves who hoodwink artfully
the down-and-outer evictee
who wallows in their lenity.

Forsooth, the Money Monarchy
exalts the dollar dynasty
engaged in highway robbery
by Peacocks plumed in finery.

Yes, Jesters and the Fools agree
to truckle to duplicity
and laugh about it witlessly.
Long live the peon's penury!

                          3
To champion an oddity
(like two times twelve is fifty three)  
one reaches to theology
through paths of circularity.

In bygone trials of travesty
the doubters, draped in blasphemy,
endured the pain and agony
inflicted by the papacy.

Inspired by the Trinity
fanatics bent cosmology
in geocentric fantasy
while Bruno burned for heresy;

and aged women, randomly
accused of wicked witchery
by justice framed in infamy,
were racked and shown no clemency

That epoch of credulity
(when savants fostered sorcery
and practiced ancient alchemy)
arose in dark age quackery

as clerics dripping piety
(while raging, raving rabidly)
pervaded thralled society
with callous inhumanity;

'repent', they bellowed, 'verily,
forsake the world's iniquity,
live lives of want and chastity,
and give your gelt to God through me'.

                    4
The Masters make a mockery
of freedom and democracy
by holding down the uppity,
released from shackled slavery,

now fettered in a factory
else strewn across the Bowery,
still chained in bonds of bigotry,
immersed in seas of poverty.

And colliers, tapping balefully
in sunken-mine solemnity,
yet thrum a mournful monody
some call the digger's elegy.

To children, pale and raggedy
(behind a day of drudgery),
the boss man, oh so gallantly,
bestows a penny, niggardly;

though some are fed (belatedly),
their eyes recede in apathy
while bellies bulge, inflatedly,
with mothers watching, wretchedly.

When met with health adversity
or broken bone infirmity,
the pauper dangles helplessly
with no insurance policy;

and those engulfed in lunacy
are ailing blobs left floating free
in ******-dream obscurity -
a mired madhouse odyssey.

Ignoring mankind's unity,
the rich and poor dichotomy
breeds dismal doomed finality,
eventual nihility.

                        5
Renewing days of chivalry,
wild warriors fighting valiantly
bring freedom neath the gallows tree
while blending blood and burgundy

to toast the slaughtered enemy,
and so convince the colony
to cede with smile on bended knee
and yield her diamonds, silk and tea.

At first they call the cavalry
and then again the infantry,
so proudly primped in panoply,
with arms from finest armory

(embraced in hands so tenderly
bestow benign atrocity) -
and soon atomic weaponry
will extirpate posterity.

                          6
Misusing high technology
(to feed the face of gluttony)
depletes our Rock of energy,
now slowly dying thermally.

Our gadgets breathing CFC
fuel ozone holes' immensity
while cloud bursts, raining acidly,
wilt woods in their entirety,

and rivers, tainted chemically,
polluted biologically,
refill our cups methodically
and drown our souls organically.

Adjusting genes mechanically
may well blot out the bumble bee
annulling fruits' fecundity,
but brings big bucks reliably.

We wager perpetuity
to revel momentarily
in shadow-like obscurity
ignoring the futility,

but if we bet unknowingly
on fickle fate's contingency
and thereby act haphazardly
we're doomed to lose the lottery.

                 7
The modern day bureaucracy
abuses trust egregiously ,
embeds itself in obloquy
and offers no apology.

It paints the past in reverie
to camouflage the tendency
to strip away our privacy
which paves the path to tyranny.

With earlobes lurking furtively
that listen surreptitiously,
and eyeballs peering piercingly
we've lost cerebral sovereignty,

and those who dare to disagree
must hide away in secrecy
else crowd a black facility
(with water board anxiety).

                  8
Yes, sans responsibility,
our marble in this galaxy
will crumble in catastrophe
ere ever reaching puberty…
mrmonst3r Feb 2015
I am gone.
Adrift thru cold dead air,
Lost in the horizon.
There's no comfort,
No means of adaptation.
Only this void.
          this loveless space.
Out here I am forgetting you —
Slowly,
As my oxygen depletes.
"My God—it's full of stars!"
Jay Oct 2014
Mad
Angry and disturbed
Perturbed by your absurd words
Their rhythm ring sing songs on & on
Wrongly depicting me as the beast who depletes we
Condemned and prosecuted for convoluted convictions
Incarcerated despite fair trial meanwhile
Defendant roams free, though guilty
So I suffer when her rough mood cannot bebuffered
And somehow the blame is on me, what a shame it would be
If I had a fair trial, and you were beguiled by my vengeance
But Corinthians bestowed on me that love hold no grudge
So I won't budge,
This time.
It literally cannot always be my fault.
Michael John Jul 2018
i

why don´ t they just make a machine
that does our living,lily,darling,
save a lot of messing..

we live all these years and then
slowly our memory depletes them
(though they say all memory lives within..)

if we were programmed at the beginning
some kind of limiting of emotion
ambition etc..

alpha to epsilon
brain washing
soma..

*** but no reproduction
endless fun
order..

is belonging
art gone
the way sure..

simple dogma
love or go
love..

ii

lily says
love is meaningless
unless we are ready to

die..
who is..
would i..

i
stood
high
to the very

devil..
fall over
weebil..ha..

but to die
and see sun
rise no more..

little bird
sing
in

the silent
dawn
sweet voice

eternal greeting..
blithe angel
o children

of the future..
messenger of
the gods..

loyal gaurdian
to ever
and never..

outside
and know
a silent cosmos..

be born anew
to heart
be found..?

through-out the poem are references to the
brilliant novel brave new world.for which i make no
apology but as a mark of respect to great talent of
aldous huxley..
Andrew Rueter Apr 2018
She may be our metronome mother
But when was rhythm first discovered?
Did ancient nomads hear it in the sounds of walking?
Did they like how it sounded over them talking?
Did they view the melody
As a felony?
And start to sway their hips
To the crack of whips?
Maybe that wasn't good enough
Maybe we needed more stuff
So we started crossing swords
To create more violent chords
That interested us more

Violence has a catchy hook
That can't be found in a book
But started with a ***** look
Until our brain begins to cook
And we learn to love the beat
As the harmony depletes
We take concert seats
At a darkness feast

There's an iambic pentameter
In the middle eastern theater
That sounds all too familiar
The troubling treble
Of mothers screaming
While superpowers meddle
And innocence is leaving
The reaper is reaping
To a situation heating
Empathy fleeting
Fascist seating
Rhythm beating

Our soundproof homes
Create acoustic cones
That our cries can't escape
Taking the container's shape
Filling our mind
Until we're blind
And only see political teams
Instead of childhood dreams

We fall into a rhythm
Based on deadly decisions
With lethal precision
Like surgical incisions
That don't make us healthy
But support the wealthy
Who whistle a different tune
That will **** us all soon
And as the world crumbles
Their bellies still rumble
Creating a disruptive bass
Their music we must face
With an impossible grace
Or else we'll be replaced

I hear instruments of percussion
Causing concussions
Deflecting discussions
Making us harmfully dance
So we'll have a fair chance
Which seems wrong at first glance
But it's actually a pragmatic trance
Provided by Mister Rhythm
Who carries misery with him
Can be found in my self published poetry book “Icy”.
https://www.amazon.com/Icy-Andrew-Rueter-ebook/dp/B07VDLZT9Y/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Icy+Andrew+Rueter&qid=1572980151&sr=8-1
Marshal Gebbie Aug 2012
For my mate Chris*

To sit around in anger…does no favours,
To bellyache to me… It’s all unfair,
To hope somebody else… comes up with answers,
To see the world’s shortcomings… flaunted there.


A lack of motivation keeps you grounded
Friends and family try to keep you at arm’s length,
You loathe the Government’s lack of comprehension
In that joblessness depletes your hope and strength.


You feel those carbohydrates clog your arteries
And see your muscled body turn to flab,
Discipline’s resolve flies to oblivion
And you curse all that… which makes your life so drab.


Disappointment curbs the high expectations,
You feel the planet owes you that, to which you seek,
Aghast to comprehend your own misgivings,
You feel the need to say…but then, you never speak.


Then suddenly… a stark, clear realization
That NOTHING HERE WILL CHANGE…UNTIL YOU DO,
Until you turn around your thinking to endeavour,
Till then that something that you seek… shall hide from you.


So look, my sweetness, look into the mirror
Shed the worry lines that always cloud your brow,
Kick your sorry **** profoundly to tomorrow
And lose the ****** shards of bitterness….RIGHT NOW!



Marshalg
Endeavouring to re-motivate a lost cause.
18 August 2012




© 2012 Marshal Gebbie
Alexa Sep 2012
Ushers clad in white rush the masses to their seats.
Talk dulls to whispers as the queue outside depletes.
A black suit waves his wand at centre stage.
“It looks just like they said it would on this week’s news’ front page,”
             they say.

The tuxedo raised its hands, to quell the audience,
His stonewall face daunting, demanding perfect silence.
As the ushers move in tandem, down the aisles to the stage,
The curtain breaks, the glasses shake, as the lights begin to fade.

Hooded figures appear, wheeling metal tables
Bearing cobalt cadavers, held fast with jumper cables.
They are brought to centre stage, to three white-clad physicians.
Tools are passed into the hands of each the meat-magicians.
“Thank you. You’ve arrived very much on time,” says tuxedo,
       and he snaps a shot of bourbon.

Curtains billow ‘round the stage like clouds of clotted blood.
The lights dim and the show begins, the audience waiting, rabid.
And through the obscurity,
Through the gloom of the room,
They see the white-coat men lift their arms in unison,
As the tuxedo points his wand about like a handgun.
He waves his stick at the white-coat men
And they lower their hands to the bodies in front of them.
They hold tools with blades short and long,
    and dig into their subjects.
They pick through pith and pulp,
     casting flecks of flesh into the audience.
Their white coats blush deeper and deeper
   the farther they dig with their knives and their peepers.
The tuxedo thrashes his wand astir, directing the dissection with little discretion.
The audience gasps and murmurs a disturbed digression
   but watch with wide eyes in disgusting obsession.
“Someone’s got to teach these ******* a lesson,” says a white-coated man, digging deeper depressions.
All the while the corpses lay, until the tuxedo man bends in plie.
And the cadavers awaken and scream upon seeing their entrails laid out for display.
“What a horribly carnal ballet!”
             they say.

The audience clamours, simply enamoured,
Erupting with tears, and applause, and laughter.
They clap at the bodies exploding in seizure
While the white-coats rip and cut to their leisure,
The subjects watch in horror as they are filleted,
Their own pelts and rinds are stars on Broadway.

Suddenly the tuxedo man stops,
Signaling the white-coats to stop in mid-chop.
The mangled bodies see on the floor themselves in pieces like the dried needles of pines.
And they curl and writhe on the metal tables, hugging tightly to their own spines.
“Thank you. But it seems we’ve run out of time,” the tuxedo man says with a bow,
As he wipes the sweat and blood from his brow.
And the ushers rush the audience out,
While the hooded men return to collect the waste
While the audience leaves feeling nothing close to disgraced.
“I’ve never once seen a better display,”
             they say.
Charlie Chirico May 2017
My fingers bleed
as I scratch the inside of my skull.
Like cleaning out a pumpkin to carve,
removing pulp and fingernails,
and scattering seeds to be planted.
Vacant minded, a candle
placed and centered in my head,
illuminating my eyes
and putting color to my cheeks.

Tape measure stretched,
razor sharp snap back.
Graphite on pine.
Rusted teeth cut deep.
Being boxed in, yet waiting,
anticipating the metal nails to sing
as wood meets wood.

Plumes of smoke escape
the pine structure.
My candlelight depletes along
with oxygen. This containment
only serves to obfuscate while
holding a crowbar.
And the seeds planted above
linger in soil
marinated by wood chips.
All the while the vegetable
shrivels up and cries.
Terry O'Leary Oct 2013
I’m stealing through a twilit realm, the ancient pale of Whereis,
passing chambers of an Heiress
(though no need to feel embarrassed)
through a magic mystic mirror hanging curtainless.

A glimpse near naked alleyways (denuded by the moon) ex-
poses Ghosts in gauzy tunics
carving symbols, round and runic,
in distended dingy dungeons of uncertainness.

Down misty streets of cobblestone – ancestral avenues –
patchwork paths consume my shoes
(chasing foggy curlicues
twisting, twirling by in twos,
floating anywhere they choose),
leaving footprints that confuse
vagrant wispy retinues
of the threaded wooden sticks that stalk a Puppet wandering.

Condensed in drops of fantasy, distilled in evening dew,
shifting Shadows I pursue
(wearing faces I once knew,
slipping slowly from my view)
turn their backs to bid adieu
leaving stars to tempt me through
Awful Tower residues
mocking treasures time outgrew
in the birth of old from new
framing pageants in review
midst the visions of the painted past I can’t help pondering.

Contorted candelabra claw the skyline’s walled suspension
caught in twilight’s intervention
– still unlit (in stark dissension),
therefore seething with a tension
in the quiet apprehension
of the Watchman’s inattention
to the night-time’s bold pretension
to her power, not to mention,
to her hyperspace extension
(far beyond my comprehension
of the sundown’s bleak dimension) –  
on exhausted beaten boulevards of foolish fretfulness.

Oblivion depletes me, voiding haste and hurried hassles,
me, a simple abject vassal,
trailing moonlit floating castles,
– fickle feet, but fingers facile
grasping straws and pendant tassels –
as I stumble through the rubble of forgetfulness.

I think I must be dreaming as I seem to see these things,
neath a sky alive with wings
(hear the Nightingale, she sings),
midst the whispered murmurings
soughed by Phantoms clad as Kings
pacing palaces in rings,
while their hapless footfall clings
to the sagging sinking sands of midnight’s splintered splattered ruins.

Entangled in the swirling leaves that spin in dizzy flurries,
(while the wind beside me scurries
as an ermined hermit hurries)
lurk my sleepy woes and worries
(glowing faint’ but growing blurry)
which, when plundered by the demon dusk, I’d left behind me strewn.

The forgery of Multitudes between the Silhouettes
(and discarded cigarettes,
neath the haunted parapets)
mock my lonely echoed steps
         – mock my lonely echoed steps –
(struck like clicking castanets
         – struck like clicking castanets –)
as I lace unlabeled lanes, erasing silence’ sullen treason.

The mossy stones condole with me (within the oubliettes
draped in blood and tears and sweat
sometimes dry, more often wet
quite like drops of anisette
sipped in moments one forgets
self-reproach and raw regrets)
midst the midnight minuets
and the purling pirouettes
of the fugitive Grisettes
(flaunting charms and amulets)
who, in flitting shades of arching bridges, linger longer, teasin’.

Along the When I’m drifting, but a stardust castaway,
weaving, threading by cafés
and deserted cabarets,
just a gauzy appliqué
on the river’s rippled spray,
chasing Fools along the way
through the strands of yesterday,
neath the throbbing peal of sobbing bells in spectral cloisters, quaking.

In belfries, high and haughty, alabaster Knights perform,
riding stiff against a storm,
steeped in cloudlike chloroform,
while the raven skies deform
and my shrivelled shovelled form
(rapt, while bats in steeples swarm
close to candles waxing warm)
hangs in hallowed hallways, hiding, shoulders weary, weak and aching.

Around me hover grinning masks, veiled visages of Queens,
feigning fatal final scenes
of demented doomed Dauphines
(against the scarlet sky they lean,
dreary dripping guillotines),
traced in opalescent ballrooms only tattered time remembers.

The hidden hands of Harlequins (while floating free, unseen
disbursing secrets sibylline,
amongst the manes of Halloween),
tap (on tumbrel tambourines
behind abandoned shuttered screens)
a dirge (with tattooed tones pristine)
for me (a heap in ragged jeans
in these crazy cluttered scenes),
trapped interred in toppled stone chateaus that dismal dawn dismembers.

Rogue breezes pierce, benumbing me, my ears and toes a’ freezin’
(in the Cockcrow’s purple season
as when nightmares should be easin’
and the Zephyr winds appeasin’),
so I reach for  rhyme and reason,
which endeavours leave me wheezin’,
caught impaled upon the jagged edge of early morning’s breaking.

The chill evoking silver chimes of Nodomain start knelling
as the searing sun looms swelling,
and their monodies hang dwelling
in the cloud drifts’ care, revelling,
but the Sandman’s too compelling
and my weariness impelling
– since my eyelids risk rebelling,
when they’ll fall, there’s no foretelling
for the starry sky’s past telling –
as I fade beneath the flaming forge while embers tremble, waking.
Austin B Sep 2014
The pure black anguish that sits rotting
in the absolute pit of my aching heart.

Everyday an inch of me depletes whilst hearing that wretched pitiful cry.
I wish something would change,  I wish I could erase the toxic memories that lie etched forever into the very core of my mind.

Nothing is more painful then seeing your small minded, incoherent pathetic face shrivel up and pour out a thousand hells all while I lie there knowing that you think its okay. You always think something is wrong with others around you, when its just yourself that cannot be altered.

I know life has struggle and that life brings calamity when you have already lost, but to re-live the same chapter over and over again seems like this story will never end.
Philosopoet Feb 2013
Optimism fueled my hope
Negativity depletes it
My will fights destruction
If misery wants company
Then beat it
It becomes my obstruction
Initiating the assimilation
Replacing my hopes with heart-****** obligations
I retaliate with large amounts of pent-up rage
Have I won?
No...
I've merely set the stage
to become caged by what I refuse to be
I'm tricked into falling
towards the perilous seas
of judgement, pride, and justification
I watch my reflection in the sea
believing that everything is alright with me
...but I'm no longer who I chose to be
because I let the negativity infect me.
Is it too late to be rid of this disease?
With kindness, time,patience, and wisdom...
We shall see.
steven Sep 2014
Two rivers flow from my heart:

One famous to the people—
Revered, acknowledged,
Relied upon to renew life
In those strong, able mothers,
Whose water is playful and tame;

The other only known to the
Beasts of the forest—the exiles,
The infidels, the disillusioned
Sinners since birth, and the
Secret prophets who understand
Love and continue to preach it
Across treetops, under skies,
Through minds and closet doors
And kitchen knives and civil[ian] wars.

Bless their souls, those words of peace
Shine brighter than the sun
(Rumored to rise over everyone).
My rivers breathe life within me until
The source depletes, and my heart is still.
Deneka Raquel Jun 2014
This my our journey.
Ice...
Jutting miles towards the heavens.
Above the jet stream.
Higher than most airliners fly,
Up and beyond,
The pinnacle of our love,
Is the closet to the stars.

I am lured by its magnificence,
I am attracted by the challenge.
Even though there is a chance,
I wont survive.

Storm winds blow 100 miles per hour,
Pounding it's victims,
With triple digit wind chills,
And zero visibility.

Every climber dies a little.
Fighting a losing battle against cachexia,
Because above 18 000 feet,
Cuts never heal,
The body depletes,
The air is so dry,
A cough literally fractures a ribs.

Weathering such unfriendly conditions
Is...
The ultimate test.

There is a 99% chance,
That I'll fail the quest.
But I promise
I'll do,
My best.
Clay Face Dec 2021
This.
Stimuli.
It depletes me.
Turn, turn around.
And complete me.

I, lost all control.
And this sense of lament is visceral.
I bleed, from the outside.
Numb death, turning, becoming inside.

I.
Just need one thing.
A child’s toy, nostalgic and stuffed.
A somnambulant hymn.
To remove me.
Disassociate, please.

Your hand is soft.
Placed places that comfort.
I miss your scent, that congeals.
I wish I didn’t have to feel nothing.
Emptiness is so guttural and potent.

I can’t help but see.
Everything slip by.
Love
is the fount of abundance
of endless youth – which knows
only to give
but Lover, do you know
how to take?

to you she offers this-
the legacy of the Wait
employ it as you will –
as a bed of thorns or as a work of art
the choice is yours

when the current of time shall turn
your chance will come
to take from that fount all you want
but the journey is arduous
the climb-treacherous
many a pitfall may lie in your path
beware - stay steadfast!

pour all of yourself without hesitation
drop by drop into that sacrificial fire
as your ink depletes onto the pages
like Svaha meeting Agni
there will come to exist
the consummation of your innermost desires

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   23.01.2013
  Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Inspired by Aditya's poem A Thing of Art (http://hellopoetry.com/poem/a-thing-of-art/).
Thank you Aditya!

Svaha & Agni : Svāhā is a minor goddess, and the wife of Agni-the God of Fire in Vedic mythology. It is said that the gods to whom offerings are being made through yagna (sacrificial fire) refuse the offerings unless the word 'svaha' is uttered during the sacrifice.
alvin guanlao Dec 2015
As you walk in oxygen depletes
you will be solving puzzles that never complete
you'll be winning to foes that never compete
and will always hear a part of a song that always repeat

gazing into the unreal is a thing to avoid
opening your hands will give you nothing but void
escaping mazes makes you feel like being toyed
it's an endless loop of questions, don't be annoyed

existence, galaxy and everything eternal
this place is heavenly peaceful yet infernal
never thought that you'll be seeing peoples internal
organs. So are the thoughts of you being an abnormal

a part of you will want to stop
but this ain't democracy and decisions are made on top
so you'll overload your mind until it pops
out your brain, but won't let it drop.
JAK AL TARBS Aug 2013
People
Oh dear people
Look at the hills
Look at rivers
Look at this nature
Which is a wonderful thing!

People
Oh dear people
Look at the horizon
And tell me what you see
Look at the setting of the scene
Created by the Master of scenes

People
Oh dear people
Look at the moon
And how it fullens
Till the middle of a month
Look at the night
And how it twinkle with every passing hi

People
Oh dear people
Have you seen the animals?
Or the king of the jungle?
Or the aeroplanes of our skies?
Yes, the leopards, the lions and the birds

South, is where it depletes
The ice sheets depletes
With every passing hour
The heating is increasing

Oh people
Oh dear people
How could you have seen
THE beauties of this world
When they are all vanishing,
while we speak a word
How could you have seen the stars,
when they are disguised by the city_lights

Oh people
Oh dying people
Have you seen the weeping orphan
And how they been for a mother's warmth and love?
Have you visited the elderly who have been tossed into homes
Only because they are frail and old
Have you kissed your mother's hands
And hugged your father's head
Before they breathe their last

People
Oh unlearned people
Have you visited the forests and investigated
Have you names all the species in the world
Have you explored coal reefs
Or have you say in your bed and on your chair
At looked at a flat box and stare

Have you been living
Or have you been dying
Have you been lying
Or have you been denying
That you my friend are not meant to do this

Or world and continents
Might seem separate
But verily they are joined
FOR the moment
A stranger is injured
We all feel the pain

This o is the true life
To give, to ask, and to pay
Why oh my people
Do you not listen?????????????
This is what I feel when I read the news and look at our world as a whole.....
Depleted-
I feel depleted, emotionally, physically, mentally-
I don’t feel like me-
Like a shell of what I used to be-
This tree of life grows so continuously-
In this undefined times-with these undeveloped rhymes-
I grow so empty-
And this potentially could be the end of me-
Heaven set me free-
Free to fly so casually-
Happy-feels like a casualty-
And I’m just hammering-
At myself-by myself-
My health depletes so erratically-
And magically I’m still battling-
The enemies are gathering-
In my head-in my bed-
Better off dead-
So demanding-
Here in front of you Lord I am standing-
Commanding you presence-
Are relationship is so adolescent-
So co-dependent-
Just demented-
And I am repenting-
Descending into a world of pretending-
Where the smile is vile-
And the eyes are the lies-
Of all that I am inventing-
The façade is cementing-
This is not my intention-
Expression is only expressing-
Meir fraction of my aggression-
Positivity-I could use a lesson-
But negativity is just not letting-
Me-
Be free-
Freedom from demons-
Is how I’m dreaming-
Like I said-I’m simply depleting-
Austin B Feb 2015
My mind depletes every single day.
A constant weight of inferno tied to my hands.
Sinking to the bottom of my core, forever drowning.
Take one deep breathe.

It will be okay.

You unruly physical beings that choose to entrench me.
That choose to suffocate me and everyone around me.
It wretchedly disgusts me that you have to see this.
To see this on a daily basis.
I'm sorry.
I'll learn from this.

But most of all I'll remember.
I'll always remember...

...and that should haunt you.
Tanisha Jackland Apr 2017
O what say ye?
mine divine soul
where have you gone?
O my deity
It is the parched
barren sun
which depletes us
We've laid too long
in its withering heat
Now is the time
to cool and wet our thirst
upon the dark waters
of the abyss
to navigate this boat
be like fishermen
and bring back the dead
Water Nov 2011
Blood rushes and oxygen depletes
Hidden beneath eyelids, I dare myself to breathe
I become lightheaded as I am relieved
a piece of darkness from my heavy heart
The acoustics of silence screeches
with rising pitches to match the increases of contrast
This white-out has interrupted my mental broadcast
In a hospital with glass walls they can't hide their problems
as the newborn screams and the cancer depletes
the cycle of life is witnessed like a dream
vivid in this reality the harshness of their insanity,
purely demographically calculating each catastrophe
Anxiety and depression, broken bones and unlearned lessons,
overflowing pediatric wings and incomprehensible fallacies
how many angels have to fall before they finally change something?
the way it is just isn't working
genetically modifying the health and well being of humanity
is devil-like control that we've given out freely
each one of us is just as guilty
of giving in without even thinking
they've designed it not only to be easy,
but required, legally
prepared for the community
to not take it so peacefully
"You can't make me" becomes a felony
and a ticket can be written for anything
don't get caught with your hands in your pockets day dreaming...
you silly dreamer human being
theres laws against speaking free, although the constitution disagrees
the law wasn't given it's own set of wings
and jealous was he so he created a scene
and made it seem like a city was their dream
when it never really came close to being
handing out medications and monthly vaccines
instead of homegrown natural remedies
Honestly I don't know,
My heart says I love you,
My mind says it's just a crush
so here I am in between the two,
In my limbo,
Now I declare you my limbo love,
My heart can swell at the sight of you but then it depletes,
Words not spoken leaves a heart broken,
Your holding back and words are ready to pour from my untouched lips.

This is no longer a want or a desire it has grown into a neeed,
I need thopse lips,
Need that voice and laughter,
I need you,
Your my limbo love and I forever want to be yours,
My limbo love please save me from my fears,
Rescue me one last time,
This last time just take me in your arms,
Hold me close and whisper sweet lullibies of the love story yet to come,
Tell me you love me,
And know you will always be my limbo love,
Just believe in all we can be,
I just want our love to always be clear to see.
RyanMJenkins Jan 2016
Sometimes I wonder if we are really all listening
Or just too distracted with the African diamonds glistening
Sold to you by Zales, yet every kiss begins with Kay.  
Fat and lazy fast food crazy
Chasing highs blinded thinking they really have it their way

The devices in our possession finally allow us to progress as one people.  We can connect with others oceans away and together rid the world of evil.  The destructive misuse of power is felt when we see the segregation.  Responsibility has been shed for more tax cuts, when some live unsure they will make it.  Fabricated stories facilitate war - on drugs, ideas, and our collective growth.  
So I must ask
When these tragedies happen, who actually benefits the most?  Making sure to add "terrorist acts" under a potential insurance claim just days before buildings imploded to dust rather than be eaten by flames, or severed with a plane.  The man who did this was named Larry Silverstein.  Interviews after he seemed cold, devoid of soul, and mean.  Arms dealers, oil companies, and bank executives, carry out these plots that are now repetitive.  Play with the heartstrings of one's own people, that think they can veil everything but I know we're not feeble, and in all these other places we're beginning to feel.
Cheney's Halliburton rebuilds nations after war decimates the ground.  Yes, let's let our pockets pay any amount, grind ourselves 45 hours a week so with our taxes they can play around.  Still staying stiff in the position promising your wishes will come true.  But again the scapegoat ***** your hope of political action bringing something new.  
While blowing ourselves away the frame becomes unglued.  This cancer is man made and he wants to redesign you. Analyzes with the force of a brute. Built tall walls with his flaws that only allows the seven deadly sins in.  Will he in his mind ever decide to see the sun again?  Can he really say that to himself he is a friend?  Meanwhile a governor of Flint, Michigan is okaying lead be let in to the water system, 9,000 now are poisoned.  We're talking families complete with children.  Speaking on topics like this, I do not have fun.  But the divine needs to shine wherever necessary.  If we don't speak now we could head into a reality that's only more scary.  No more families buried until they carry out their long lives.  I will honor Mother Nature and the life she provides.  As the Amazon depletes, the air needs more trees.  Less chemicals drifting into our systems as we eat and breathe.  Fearlessly pure we become free.  With eyes on the skies we leave our feet, articulated honest advancement.  Through conscious choice and proper management.  
No one owns you or where the lands currently sit, but you'll probably hear different from the government.  

We are all one, and life will go on.
Sun shines on our land every day at dawn
Balances created keep our hearts in motion
Close your eyes and see the focal point of your devotion.  Music gave me a way to see inside there lies the potion - to take my emotion and share the reflections to other oceans
Theresa Apr 2012
your first pleasures were touch, taste and the arms that held you so dear
when the school bell rang for the first time, you felt fear
then you calmed at the sound of her sweet voice
you learned security

from the first gold star and smiley face
you knew you had promise
and with loving guidance you continued to flourish
you abided
you listened
 
your artwork told a feeling, it was scary,
but it drew people to you
Oh how they marveled!
you felt pleased and accomplished
 
what great fun you had joining the band
even earning solo perfomances
you were shy but you did it
 
your first love stroked your perfect hair
you were accepted
 
the sound of the wheels
and the feel of the board beneath your feet
brought a thrill
your scarring brought valor
 
a bounty of achievements
in such a short span of time
you were respected by so many
you felt you accomplished
you had the freedom to be whom-ever
without the pressure of a significant price
 

what happened?
 
was it that hard?
 
you knew what worked
 
was it your shyness or those who attracted you?
 
oh, the chemicals took hold and embraced you!
the temporary feeling of greatness that took hold of you
with no fear, accomplishment, promise, valor
it was done in one night with a pill
 
your arrogance has taken hold
you refuse to abide and listen,
did you ever think those who surround you,
feel so small that they see no way out other than a pill?
 
why do you think it’s always you?
 
what will you become if you cannot experience gain or loss? 
that’s what molded you
 
if you only knew, this substance is nothing
it has no feeling,
destroys reputations
depletes your soul
and ages you beyond recognition
 
the life of promise
and freedom you once had
is fleeting
but my dear,
it is never too late to recapture it
John McCafferty Jan 2021
Pale fading jaded moon
Echoes of the same old routes
Subconscious fed what we are read
Some consume such hazy fumes
Supposed repeats become belief
To each eye is dry and empty
When disorientation looms, Jesus
Our efforts count when only viewed

Hard to shake off the grey fog
As the pace of life seems lost
Host a place for creative minds
Build upon what you've been taught
Changing layers of further thought
When heavy clouds pull into view
Energy depletes inside over time
Should you stand affront or wait anew
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Elizabeth Nov 2014
I was sad for a while, but here with you I can't help but smile.

Everytime our eyes meet, they lock for a moment and then it depletes.

The feeling you give me is like nothing I can describe. You make my heart beat faster, you make me feel alive.

I wonder if you feel for me too, your just afraid I'll hurt you if you let me through.

Can't you see you're hurting me?

I know what she did to you, but please just learn to trust. I see you now, opening up.

And as these thoughts circle in my head, I know for sure, my time with you is worthwhile.

And here with you I can't help but smile.
Dee Thomas Jan 2011
I have heard in far of places, where evil men do dwell
That in this place, there is no light in shadows spell
They are filled with hate and ordained, to walk the path alone
Their tears are dry, they cannot cry and hearts are made of stone

The heart of a man is stonier than where love refuses to grow
Where time is a word of fate, exchanging tears for blood to flow
Carnage in destructions belly, monsters of burden take to air
With gnashing teeth and jagged claws, you cry out in despair

To be trapped within a web of lies, hope that depletes your soul
They grin with fangs of blood and gore and discern no self control
Your children’s smiles feed the gluttony, of love’s casual distain
Wicked unimagined pain; brief satisfaction is what they gain
So out to hunt again, their belly’s worn from gravel and slither
They drain the world of faith, while the sun commences to wither
Angels grounded devoid of flight; heats of hell seared their wings
The birds of night taken flight, from darkness abyss as banshee sings
People are blinded by phantoms smoke, cursed as walking dead
They walk with sin right next to them, on streets all paved in red
Bones of victims piled in heaps; while hunting vultures circle round
Ghosts of martyred blameless souls concealed within the ground
The earth struggles to purge itself of human infestation
Quakes, storms and inferno’s flames since dawn of mans creation
The devil strides, with jokers grin and gloats sincere admiration
Knowing the ****** hearts in evil men is beyond all restoration
The world is sick, no cure in sight we breed like pox and boils
Contamination of humanity rinks the fleshy earth rots and spoils
The ocean leaps and bounds trying to soothingly lick the sores
This far off place where evil men dwell finally washed up on our shores
Trader Tim Mar 2014
Raccoon dead on the side of the road
Black crows fill the sky
Haven't eaten in a day or two
This meat is pretty dry

Here I lay on ice and grit..
The cold wind burns my mind..
******* cabin fever fit..
Depletes my stock of wine.....

Share my blanket with scratching mice.
Who scratch straight down my spine
On this northern walk about
Of a wasted Tundra mind...
Traveler, Amy, Adam..
When there are three strange minds doing a line at a time without editing,  this turns out pretty strange...
Andrew Ciaciuch Sep 2011
The desire the need
All I want to is one sweet kiss
Won’t you do this one simple deed
Each passing moment even more the kiss I will miss

The desire to hold her tight
To defend her from the world’s pain
I will protect her even after I lost the fight
If ever she is hurt I will look upon myself with great disdain

The desire the need
To hear her Beautiful voice tell me
That I truly am awake indeed
Now old dreams pass and new ones are becoming the ones I want to eventually see

The desire to see her beauty that competes
With sunsets most wonderful
My stress when around her sincerely depletes
For she drives it away unknowingly with her beauty most bountiful

The desire the need
To comfort her when she is down
Away from what is stressing her I will gently lead
Until peace and quite are finally found

The desire to feel her gentle touch
As she comforts me in my time of need
Never understanding she does so much
Caring for me in both word and deed

The desire the need
To spend the rest of my days with her
My love for her will grow stronger than ever anyone has believed
Without her I will be lost for sure

The desire to wake up with my arms wrapped around her
Not a stressful thought through my head will pass
For with her I am sure
All the cares in the world have left me at last
A newer one written to my girlfriend of a year and a half.
Ash Oct 2014
Seemingly obsessed
Latched onto this mess
Constantly depressed
Too scared to express

Locked stuck in a cage
Can't seem to get out
Drowned in my own rage
And filled with much doubt

It's swift and so quick—
This thing that they do
Horrendously sick—
This I found too true

They can't be this blind—
Enslaved to these lies?
My faith in mankind
Depletes as time flies

But standing so still,
I take a deep breath
No weapons to ****
Just hoping on death
Cecelia Francis May 2016
Slit to split slip
knotted strings
attached to every

balloon chocked up
colored chakra covered

balloons Up with Ellie's
babies and belongings in a
cloudless storage space

Unnecessary thus unused
then unreal: the fading of

love as a mother tongue
unspoken for generations
at a time dies out, eventually

the helium depletes or
something pops off
a two note chord, perfect fifth interval
linda ann hall Jun 2015
I love, regardless
Loving feels complete and not to love feels empty
Joy is a place to be surmounted, not by the faint of heart
Caring is an action, that depletes all sources of glycogen and various energy sugars
It makes me and you strong
Do not give up use your energy stores
Nicole Oct 2019
You may have damaged my soul
But you don't get to steal my art

It's like I've been trapped in a sea of snow
Frozen into nothingness
Numb to feelings and new experiences
Unable to process anything
As my energy slowly depletes
Leaving me feeling less and less alive.

I have just recently learned how
To elbow out some room to breathe
Some room for me
Just enough to give me hope
Just enough movement
To break cracks into the ceiling.

Hairline fractures barely let in the light
But it's enough to feel a sense of warmth
A fire ignited in my stiff bones
My frozen limbs and organs
Slowly beginning to thaw.

It's hard to know what to do with it
This anger that's much more
Than the nothingness that came before it
I've learned that I have to pace myself
Too much and I'll burn myself
Not enough and I freeze again.

But I am angry.
I'm angry at you
And I'm angry at me.
I just want to be free
From this cell of ice that you built for me.
The one I helped maintain
Because you had your nails dug so deep within me
That I cut myself when you left
To mimic that torment
To attempt to function
Through the withdrawal.

The pain you inflicted fueled me
Made me feel alive
And hurting myself couldn't even compare
Because it wasn't enough.
It wasn't you.
It wasn't us.

I was addicted to your energy
To the power you held over me
To that chaos that mimicked my past
So much so
It felt like home.

And that's where I struggle most
Because history repeats itself
And I should've known
That there was never safety in that home
Just emptiness and loneliness
Anxiety and pain
The need to lie to everyone
To ****** or suffocate pieces of myself
So that I could survive
To be whoever anyone needed me to be

Because I didn't matter
I didn't even exist
So why am I surprised to feel that way again?

Although I've survived this **** before
Now my survival skills are
What keep me frozen in place
And learning to love yourself
Feels way more painful
Than learning to hate.
Spike Harper Jan 2016
It's just a thing.
An idea.
Washing up on the shores.
Of oblivion.
As the surf presses forth.
Does this enigma grow limbs.
Tearing away from the stream of consciousness there of.
A schism indeed.
For it is hastily trying to retrace what was inevitably.
Washed away.
Gasping.
Fighting for a right to.
Be.
And as it does in all youth.
A plague of indecisive arrogance pollutes the well.
This gyser of melevolant guile.
Spew forth facts.
For living is to conform.
Assimilate.
Render the barcode.
As the sewage of self depletes upon the masses.
Who needs oceans.
When we are all dying to drown.
In ignorance.
Speak out...
A l o n e

Nothing other than utter bliss
As my eyelids begin to passionately kiss
My count of sheep depletes as my imagination grows
My mind starts to open as my eyes begin to close
Slowly welcoming the air to it’s royal chambers in my lungs
With a handful of dreams within grasp even without opposable thumbs
I become N U M B
Thoughts ricochet around in my head
Until they land upon old wounds left untreated & now infected
Visions of the past present a possible future
Unparallel to those predicted by life's various tutors
Contemplating
Waiting
Waiting
Then I find myself-
soaring high with complete balance
Steering this craft with faith beside acting as my ballast
Leaping from safety and falling towards uncertainty
Diving into a sea full of clarity
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~v~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And so goes the plunge
I submerge
Pondering deep beyond previously set limits
      Never once resurfacing
Drowning in yet to be deciphered waves

Thus ending the reign of the once realist schemer
Replaced by the newly appointed lucid dreamer

— The End —