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"depriving" poems
A gentle breeze Forever remembered A luscious glade Cold under your feet A rich blue sky Seemingly unreal Beautifully arousing aromas Tasting without touch Pleasingly soft sand To bathe yourself in A sensuous bed of leaves To wrap yourself in A pleasurably warm ocean Stimulating your senses Lustful love Forever wanting Incapacitating desire Depriving your concentration You lose yourself In natures tempting ways Seducing you to stay
0
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 1:36 PM UTC
Life
In the hotel room You feel more at home You sleep better without Without anything Without everything Without real life Depriving yourself As martyrs often do
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Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
A Sleeping Martyr
O traveler, why lookest thou straight on the road grave and speculative, Depriving your eyes such a beatific sight, See the angelic form standeth behind the window curtain, Come, wait, sit beside me, it’s worth waiting, We both will sing in praise of her And linger until she uncurtains the curtain. You say it’s purposeless Why argue? Isn’t it the reason our maker gives us eyes? Isn’t it the purpose of our mind’s evolution to sing and hail the beauty; at least of her. You won’t believe my word? Impertinence! You will be blinded by her shadow spare her presence; “stare not for long”, What? You say it exaggeration… Bon Dieu! If beauty is not exaggerated where lies its charm. Look! her shadow moving, she is growing impatient as if  getting late to meet her lover. Yes, she wins heart in a look and crushes it in a blink and wins again by smile. Monarch sleeps in her bed Life in right, Death in left hand; she possesses, Judiciary in closet And warriors in purse. Countries bow, world kneel, universe supplicate before her. Stop! Where thou going? Pardon these adynatons, I’m drunk in her beauty. Let us sing then, I’ll lead, you follow Flowers wilting in chilled air, Waiting clouds to part To have a look fair, Of moon… Do see the restlessness in that room? I can sense her ***** heaving, repressed sighs and her fingers twisting, twirling in exasperation, It must be a lover who invented the song, isn’t it? A gloomy firefly in this starless sky Searching his lover Who has lost the light, Wait not moon, rise, help him In his plight… Look! look! The curtain is drawn There she, my sovereign, don’t mistake her eyes for stars. Have a profound look, but not too long; this witnesses only fortunate. What? you lost your vision- But I warned you earlier. Now, who’ll testify I saw her?
0
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 7:43 PM UTC
My Sovereign!
O traveler, why lookest thou straight on the road grave and speculative, Depriving your eyes such a beatific sight, See the angelic form standeth behind the window curtain, Come, wait, sit beside me, it’s worth waiting, We both will sing in praise of her And linger until she uncurtains the curtain. You say it’s purposeless Why argue? Isn’t it the reason our maker gives us eyes? Isn’t it the purpose of our mind’s evolution to sing and hail the beauty; at least of her. You won’t believe my word? Impertinence! You will be blinded by her shadow spare her presence; “stare not for long”, What? You say it exaggeration… Bon Dieu! If beauty is not exaggerated where lies its charm. Look! her shadow moving, she is growing impatient as if  getting late to meet her lover. Yes, she wins heart in a look and crushes it in a blink and wins again by smile. Monarch sleeps in her bed Life in right, Death in left hand; she possesses, Judiciary in closet And warriors in purse. Countries bow, world kneel, universe supplicate before her. Stop! Where thou going? Pardon these adynatons, I’m drunk in her beauty. Let us sing then, I’ll lead, you follow Flowers wilting in chilled air, Waiting clouds to part To have a look fair, Of moon… Do see the restlessness in that room? I can sense her ***** heaving, repressed sighs and her fingers twisting, twirling in exasperation, It must be a lover who invented the song, isn’t it? A gloomy firefly in this starless sky Searching his lover Who has lost the light, Wait not moon, rise, help him In his plight… Look! look! The curtain is drawn There she, my sovereign, don’t mistake her eyes for stars. Have a profound look, but not too long; this witnesses only fortunate. What? you lost your vision- But I warned you earlier. Now, who’ll testify I saw her?
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60
Law, All ye termites hacking ants are you without sin? Twisting the law to your greed thus dethroning justice Thou that dis-virgins the law to suit your selfish taste, Did not equity say that none is above the law? Money-thirsty vultures seeking positions to occupy. Law hackers depriving justice and equity of her rights Equity and justice now lives in shame of her virginity, Almighty termite, do not your deeds speak evil of your sins? I weep blood for justice and equity whose daughters you ***** Is there none whose conscience still breathe or lives? Power-driven termites making uncountable promises Yet accomplishing none but your calculated interests. Equity, All ye leaders that preach peace, are you not corrupt minded? En-slaving accounts meant for public welfare Yet you claim to have the peoples interest in mind, Did not the law command you to let equity and justice smile? Parasitic predators hi-jacking the country's economy Filthy termites proclaiming injustice upon powerless ants, Justice hackers, do not your conscience judge your judgments? I wish that you allow justice and equity have her way. Law benders at whose feet equity and justice bow Rippers of the law, at your hands justice is twisted, Is your nature as humans so inhumane? Little wonder the earth lives in fear of your tyranny. Justice, All ye slanders of the law, why not sheath your swords of corruption? Your unchecked power has broken the wings of justice Thereby making equity a widow without a husband, Remember your oaths to serve with justice and equity; Did you deceive the ants that voted you in to serve them? Chameleons occupying seats of filtered ambitions Woe betide your conscience for refusing to judge you, Are you not guilty of molesting the law? I mourn for the shameful death of equity and justice. You that crafts the law to fit your suit of corruption Remember a day comes when justice will laugh again, And you being powerful cannot escape the law of Karma. Karma, Murderers of the law, will you also bribe karma? I doubt if you can buy the law of karma with money. Thou whose gluttony corrupts justice and equity, Don't you feel guilty that you disvirgined the law? Equity and justice now roams about in nakedness, You that preach the law, are you true to yourself? Heartless spiders cob-webbing the law to entangle poor ants Did not equity bid you come to justice with clean hands? Yet with filthy garments you condemn innocent ants; Mind you that someday the law will rise again. All ye scavengers of justice and hackers of the law, Do you think you can **** the law of Karma?
0
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 10:22 AM UTC
Hackers Of The Law
Law, All ye termites hacking ants are you without sin? Twisting the law to your greed thus dethroning justice Thou that dis-virgins the law to suit your selfish taste, Did not equity say that none is above the law? Money-thirsty vultures seeking positions to occupy. Law hackers depriving justice and equity of her rights Equity and justice now lives in shame of her virginity, Almighty termite, do not your deeds speak evil of your sins? I weep blood for justice and equity whose daughters you ***** Is there none whose conscience still breathe or lives? Power-driven termites making uncountable promises Yet accomplishing none but your calculated interests. Equity, All ye leaders that preach peace, are you not corrupt minded? En-slaving accounts meant for public welfare Yet you claim to have the peoples interest in mind, Did not the law command you to let equity and justice smile? Parasitic predators hi-jacking the country's economy Filthy termites proclaiming injustice upon powerless ants, Justice hackers, do not your conscience judge your judgments? I wish that you allow justice and equity have her way. Law benders at whose feet equity and justice bow Rippers of the law, at your hands justice is twisted, Is your nature as humans so inhumane? Little wonder the earth lives in fear of your tyranny. Justice, All ye slanders of the law, why not sheath your swords of corruption? Your unchecked power has broken the wings of justice Thereby making equity a widow without a husband, Remember your oaths to serve with justice and equity; Did you deceive the ants that voted you in to serve them? Chameleons occupying seats of filtered ambitions Woe betide your conscience for refusing to judge you, Are you not guilty of molesting the law? I mourn for the shameful death of equity and justice. You that crafts the law to fit your suit of corruption Remember a day comes when justice will laugh again, And you being powerful cannot escape the law of Karma. Karma, Murderers of the law, will you also bribe karma? I doubt if you can buy the law of karma with money. Thou whose gluttony corrupts justice and equity, Don't you feel guilty that you disvirgined the law? Equity and justice now roams about in nakedness, You that preach the law, are you true to yourself? Heartless spiders cob-webbing the law to entangle poor ants Did not equity bid you come to justice with clean hands? Yet with filthy garments you condemn innocent ants; Mind you that someday the law will rise again. All ye scavengers of justice and hackers of the law, Do you think you can **** the law of Karma?
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52
a knight in shining armor is a man who has never had his metal truly tested. I start off with a quote, that adds spice to the fish in the boat, who say that their knights in shining armor have fought, hard enough for the ladies who've put in thought, that the man that comes to sweep them of they feet is fit with an armor so glamorous that it shines all the time. but then maybe they mean it shines with greatness, power and courage,, shines bright enough for acceptance in her hand in marriage. but no. we all know a girl's best friend is a diamond,and according to girls these days nothing shines brighter. a man with a dented armor is a man who has fought and fought well to survive the opponents in combat from depriving his life from him. so, this man with a dented armor has been through hard Times, he gained and lost friends l,had his heart broken again and again he might not look too good but his heart shines, his love is sublime, for he has learned to love without hesitation, to love with values and skips the division to think about the multiplication, you can't get to one without the other but you know what I mean.
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 9:43 AM UTC
knight in shining armour
when the proficient poison of sure sleep bereaves us of our slow tranquillities and He without Whose favour nothing is (being of men called Love)upward doth leap from the mute hugeness of depriving deep with thunder of those hungering wings of His, into the lucent and large signories —i shall not smile,beloved;i shall not weep: when from the less-than-whiteness of thy face (whose eyes inherit vacancy)will time extract his inconsiderable doom, when these thy lips beautifully embrace nothing and when thy bashful hands assume silence beyond the mystery of rhyme
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6.3k
When The Proficient Poison Of Sure Sleep
Witchcraft and wine it comes so naturally, and now that you’re mine I’m going to actually try my best not to lose it. If there’s a bomb then I will defuse it. If there’s an offer I’ll just refuse it. If there’s a card to play I’m going to use it. Because you’ve got me under Your blanket of stars and mysteries, connecting our scars and histories. In parked cars both sighing mystically and back to the park where I was to shy to try anything. Sorcery and scotch you put me in a trance. If you took it down a notch, I just might stand a chance that I’m not going to lose my head, even with my cheeks burning red getting brighter as you quietly said “I’ll meet you tonight in our bed.” Depriving me of slumber With your healing touch and cosmic skin, I’m within your clutch and freely giving in. It’s too much and you have yet to begin, removing my crutch and cleansing me of each sin. I was warned of street magicians and cautioned with tales of gateway drugs. To not take my eyes off no matter the conditions, because that’s when they tend to pull rugs. “If you fall for one, you’ll fall for them all.” But this time I’m done, I think it’s last call. With your witchcraft and wine, you make it look so divine.
0
Aug 15, 2025
Aug 15, 2025 at 7:11 PM UTC
Witchcraft & Wine
i was told i could be anything, so i chose to be a feminist because when i suggested my father help with the laundry, my mother told me i was crazy. because meghan tranior's "all about that bass" is telling bigger girls to be comfortable in their own skin because skinny girls already do, right? because i'd like to make as much as my male coworkers. because i was laughed at for wanting to be a doctor instead of a housewife. because people look at me strange when i say i don't want kids. because when i gave a speech about feminism in my english class, i was called a man-hater. because "my shoulders distract the boy's education". because my mom shouldn't have to worry about what goes in my drink at concerts. i will be a feminist until i can tell my boyfriend "no babe, i'd rather watch the movie" and i am not told "you're depriving him of his needs". until my body is my body. until i no longer have to carry pepper spray on a keychain. until women in foreign countries can vote and drive. until woman means human. until we understand **** culture and feminism isn't just about women, it's about humans.
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Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 9:01 PM UTC
feminism
Tranquility of Nyctophilia always Comforts my soul with warmth, Relaxes my psychic and releases Spiritual enlightenment in my dark heart. Depriving gloom of the light to bring Passion of the night and desire of It's wonderful wonders that roam free.
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Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 1:35 AM UTC
Nyctophilia
A feeling of claustrophobia has begun to confine me. This swamp of ideas thickens inside me, the murky clay mud making each step twice as demanding as the last. The once clear flowing waters of my dreams seem to be crystallizing, clouding and freezing over, ceasing the stream of my escape. My brain is callusing over incarcerating me, forcing me to experience the hardening of my own being. A reaction inside halting my imagination and depriving me of the ability to call out for help. These thoughts and words I evacuate onto this page only act as a catalyst speeding the process of my inevitable silence. There will come a time when the swamps have solidified, and the waters of my dreams become frozen clouded crystals trapped in place. My brain will develop into a callous, rendering my mind mute, I can feel this metamorphosis materializing yet there is nothing I can do to stop it, the development has already begun, all I can do is wait until a feeling of... A feeling of claustrophobia has begun to confine me.
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Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC
A Feeling Of Claustrophobia.
Mouths meeting rushing to be fed and feed Tongues mingling and exploring Hunger and thirst crushing need Passion’s fire roaring Bodies and hearts entwined Soul and mind thriving On all they find On a journey bereft of depriving Passion’s fire consuming A life unto its own in their head Exhuming What lay buried, lost, undiscovered, forgotten or dead Born anew or resurrected Nerves, thoughts, and emotions it imbibes and revives By passion’s fire new life injected Brings new purpose and experiences to their lives Passions kindled now burning so hot It sears, mind, body, heart and soul Delivers everything they sought Two lost, now one tempered and made whole Passion’s fire, burning growing as they explored ***** freaky, and debauchery with revel With passion's fire they soared FInding the primeval In the chasing In the wooing In the embracing In the doing In the B, in many ways In the D, defining each other’s roles In the S, setting new trails ablaze In the M, reaching dark corners of each other’s souls ~Wes Noneya
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Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 5:52 PM UTC
Passions Fire Kindled
Yes, mechanical leaf mover, create the shrillest sounds known to man. See if it doesn't just slowly make the world a ******** place by taking away the joy of crunchy leafs, which gradually become moist, squishy leafs, then, after a long period, emerging from a snow covering thaw and lie there, fully exposed, recumbent, depriving the dormant seed of grass its sunlight, preventing grass, freeing up water for infrastructure needs more urgent and rational than supporting the most boring of decorative plants encompassing our lives. I guess what I'm saying is that, not only are your sounds annoying, they're just another of the short-sighted endeavors our present society insists on. You are the "circumcision-for-hygiene-purposes" of our urban planning. **** you, leaf blower. **** you and the excruciating environmental ignorance you represent. I SAID **** YOU, LEAF BLOWER, YET YOU PERSIST! You need to let that leafy-foreskin grow, covering the shaft of ground. Rid it of the pleasure-impeding growth of grass! Let the earth cry out for the sensation of tiny points of pressure moving delicately along its surface. Let the ground erupt with wild flowers, or at the very least, the trampled exuberance of plodded soil and the desperate levels of human debris that would collect upon it. Or are you trying to hide our wastefulness from us by removing something which is nothing, a nothing, invisible barrier? You've already succeeded in giving my apartment complex the ambience of an industrial production complex which I suppose it always was. Maybe your attempt at concealment has been a revelation. Or maybe I just can't think straight, because there's been a ******* leaf blower circling below my window all morning and now a heavy, riding lawn mower is coming to cut the grass that hasn't grown since September but has been watered every day even though it froze last night and it's almost November.
0
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 12:45 PM UTC
For fuck's sake with the leaf blowers!?
Yes, mechanical leaf mover, create the shrillest sounds known to man. See if it doesn't just slowly make the world a ******** place by taking away the joy of crunchy leafs, which gradually become moist, squishy leafs, then, after a long period, emerging from a snow covering thaw and lie there, fully exposed, recumbent, depriving the dormant seed of grass its sunlight, preventing grass, freeing up water for infrastructure needs more urgent and rational than supporting the most boring of decorative plants encompassing our lives. I guess what I'm saying is that, not only are your sounds annoying, they're just another of the short-sighted endeavors our present society insists on. You are the "circumcision-for-hygiene-purposes" of our urban planning. **** you, leaf blower. **** you and the excruciating environmental ignorance you represent. I SAID **** YOU, LEAF BLOWER, YET YOU PERSIST! You need to let that leafy-foreskin grow, covering the shaft of ground. Rid it of the pleasure-impeding growth of grass! Let the earth cry out for the sensation of tiny points of pressure moving delicately along its surface. Let the ground erupt with wild flowers, or at the very least, the trampled exuberance of plodded soil and the desperate levels of human debris that would collect upon it. Or are you trying to hide our wastefulness from us by removing something which is nothing, a nothing, invisible barrier? You've already succeeded in giving my apartment complex the ambience of an industrial production complex which I suppose it always was. Maybe your attempt at concealment has been a revelation. Or maybe I just can't think straight, because there's been a ******* leaf blower circling below my window all morning and now a heavy, riding lawn mower is coming to cut the grass that hasn't grown since September but has been watered every day even though it froze last night and it's almost November.
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38
When I retire, You haunt me, Like a nightmare That chases people through Their dreams, Depriving them of rest. Foul demon, Be gone from this earth. Leave us alone to wallow In the ashes of our youth.
0
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 5:09 PM UTC
Wood's Hall
My world is depriving me of oxygen; as you parade around with your new girl, and I receive pity stares from friends. I play unconcerned ‘til I get home, then I showcase all of my sadness with my pen, paper and nonstop tears. I’m going to use you as my muse to tell you to go ***** yourself, poetically.
0
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 6:40 PM UTC
***** You
Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm preaching a lesson, And the merest mention, Might cause social tension. We live in an age of, New things, super computing, Mood rings, school shootings, Fast Commuting, Mass Polluting If you've got a question, You should try and ask it, Try and draw attention to, Oceans full of grime and plastic. Drastic measures are needed, Why can't they see it? We poison the earth, And then try to seed it. You might choke from the smoke, Everyday Beijing breathing, Our enemy is cloaked, But free eyes see him. Squeezing the last drops, From the planet won't work because Before the last's tree's chopped, We have to plant with love. Now who are these men, With the Greatest greed? Depriving people with a pen, Of their basic needs. The proceeds of their misdeeds, Flow back to the system, The corporate creed, Profits off human divisions. Listen by this time, We've all had enough of it, The mind control message, Still tells me, "I'm loving it!' Our generation is facing Annihilation in our age But the politicians on stage Fight about the minimum wage. Debate over free-speech, Is finished we won it, We won't get arrested and beat, This isn't a G-8 summit. Don't sell your life to the Company, For a car and a home, Claim your right to be a somebody, Your life is your own. I find it sad and pathetic, People are attracted magnetically, Or genetically to create, Something we can't see. A father in threes, Behaving apologetically and ethically correctly, Directly see the universe's apathy. People always have faith, Governments will save us, But at a suitable date, won't hesitate to invade us. Everybody's cynical, About the media. Remaining uncritical, Of internet encyclopedias. Obedience Blind, Is worth less than nothing. Read, think, search, find, Catch the fake world bluffing. There is a solution, You can break their control, You heart starts the revolution, Save your soul.
0
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 5:01 PM UTC
Social Justice
Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm preaching a lesson, And the merest mention, Might cause social tension. We live in an age of, New things, super computing, Mood rings, school shootings, Fast Commuting, Mass Polluting If you've got a question, You should try and ask it, Try and draw attention to, Oceans full of grime and plastic. Drastic measures are needed, Why can't they see it? We poison the earth, And then try to seed it. You might choke from the smoke, Everyday Beijing breathing, Our enemy is cloaked, But free eyes see him. Squeezing the last drops, From the planet won't work because Before the last's tree's chopped, We have to plant with love. Now who are these men, With the Greatest greed? Depriving people with a pen, Of their basic needs. The proceeds of their misdeeds, Flow back to the system, The corporate creed, Profits off human divisions. Listen by this time, We've all had enough of it, The mind control message, Still tells me, "I'm loving it!' Our generation is facing Annihilation in our age But the politicians on stage Fight about the minimum wage. Debate over free-speech, Is finished we won it, We won't get arrested and beat, This isn't a G-8 summit. Don't sell your life to the Company, For a car and a home, Claim your right to be a somebody, Your life is your own. I find it sad and pathetic, People are attracted magnetically, Or genetically to create, Something we can't see. A father in threes, Behaving apologetically and ethically correctly, Directly see the universe's apathy. People always have faith, Governments will save us, But at a suitable date, won't hesitate to invade us. Everybody's cynical, About the media. Remaining uncritical, Of internet encyclopedias. Obedience Blind, Is worth less than nothing. Read, think, search, find, Catch the fake world bluffing. There is a solution, You can break their control, You heart starts the revolution, Save your soul.
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73
They say no matter How crazy your mother becomes You're suppose to love her all the same Yet when your the victim Intestines scattered across the floors Testicles torn from your body Deprived of manhood You look at her and simply think "I'm a victim to your insanity" You contemplate the vengeance Venture forth on a Vendetta For the safety of huMANity Because who knows how many Nuts she will crack She's the Nutcracker from a horror film Many nut shells left in her wake Unfortunately we are all victims To somebody's insanity Whether it be our own Or our manhood depriving mother In the end you still have to grow a pair To survive any kind of insanity
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Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 1:18 AM UTC
Victim To Your Insanity
Life is a diverse garden filled with many different plants all trying their best to survive some are ground covering gems others weeds strangulating the masses and depriving them of the nourishment that allows them to blossom into beautiful bouquets within shared plots. the strong looking after the weak the young respecting the old where they are tolerant of each others environment and; the need to exist learning about each others growth and culture what nutrients they all need to survive in close proximity to one another given food from the same *** the flowers are the colour of the rainbow learning to bloom in equal measure in a place where they are all beautiful not shunned because they are slow to blossom or were not given the right start as seedlings nurtured into strong upright plants organic matter that does matter within the diverse garden of life.
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Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 3:03 PM UTC
The diverse garden
At night while you're lying in your bed, angry at the sleep your body is depriving itself of, I hope you think of me and I hope your blood boils. When your brain is dancing, tangled and knotted with your demons from all realms of your life; past, present, future, and you feel your hands clench into wrecking ball like fists, I hope you feel my phantom hands close lightly around them reminding them the pain isn't worth it. And then I hope you swing anyway. When you grip a hand full of your hair, I hope you feel my fingers brush the tendrils from your face, and then I hope you pull. When you lean against the first solid object in your path, on both arms, just looking for something to hold you up, I hope you feel my arms snake around you and my breath on your neck reminding you to breathe, just breathe with me, like this, slow it down, match me. Then I hope you forget how to breathe all together and your legs give out and you fall, weak, to the ground. While you're down there shaking with anger and sadness and heaving out tears you dare let no one see, I hope you miss my calmness. And more than anything, I hope as every second plays out you know that all it would take is one call, and I'd be there to ease you out of the nightmare I know you're trapped in. And then, I hope you choke to death on the thought of letting someone like that go. And I hope for your sake it was worth it.
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 10:02 AM UTC
And then, I hope you choke
my love feels infinite. my love extends beyond the barriers of sound, moves faster than the speed of light— my love is strong. my love is often a burden, a weight on my shoulders dragging me to the crevices of this earth. flesh burning, oxygen depriving love. my love is infinite. often feeling like glass penetrating my skin— air losing its way from my lungs. flesh burning, oxygen depriving love.
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Apr 2, 2022
Apr 2, 2022 at 1:45 AM UTC
my love
Eliza! what fools are the Mussulman sect, Who, to woman, deny the soul’s future existence; Could they see thee, Eliza! they’d own their defect, And this doctrine would meet with a general resistance. Had their Prophet possess’d half an atom of sense, He ne’er would have woman from Paradise driven; Instead of his Houris, a flimsy pretence, With woman alone he had peopled his Heaven. Yet, still, to increase your calamities more, Not content with depriving your bodies of spirit, He allots one poor husband to share amongst four!— With souls you’d dispense; but, this last, who could bear it? His religion to please neither party is made; On husbands ’tis hard, to the wives most uncivil; Still I can’t contradict, what so oft has been said, “Though women are angels, yet wedlock’s the devil.” This terrible truth, even Scripture has told, Ye Benedicks! hear me, and listen with rapture; If a glimpse of redemption you wish to behold, Of ST. MATT.—read the second and twentieth chapter. ’Tis surely enough upon earth to be vex’d, With wives who eternal confusion are spreading; “But in Heaven” (so runs the Evangelists’ Text) “We neither have giving in marriage, or wedding.” From this we suppose, (as indeed well we may,) That should Saints after death, with their spouses put up more, And wives, as in life, aim at absolute sway, All Heaven would ring with the conjugal uproar. Distraction and Discord would follow in course, Nor MATTHEW, nor MARK, nor ST. PAUL, can deny it, The only expedient is general divorce, To prevent universal disturbance and riot. But though husband and wife, shall at length be disjoin’d, Yet woman and man ne’er were meant to dissever, Our chains once dissolv’d, and our hearts unconfin’d, We’ll love without bonds, but we’ll love you for ever. Though souls are denied you by fools and by rakes, Should you own it yourselves, I would even then doubt you, Your nature so much of celestial partakes, The Garden of Eden would wither without you.
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1.8k
To Eliza
Eliza! what fools are the Mussulman sect, Who, to woman, deny the soul’s future existence; Could they see thee, Eliza! they’d own their defect, And this doctrine would meet with a general resistance. Had their Prophet possess’d half an atom of sense, He ne’er would have woman from Paradise driven; Instead of his Houris, a flimsy pretence, With woman alone he had peopled his Heaven. Yet, still, to increase your calamities more, Not content with depriving your bodies of spirit, He allots one poor husband to share amongst four!— With souls you’d dispense; but, this last, who could bear it? His religion to please neither party is made; On husbands ’tis hard, to the wives most uncivil; Still I can’t contradict, what so oft has been said, “Though women are angels, yet wedlock’s the devil.” This terrible truth, even Scripture has told, Ye Benedicks! hear me, and listen with rapture; If a glimpse of redemption you wish to behold, Of ST. MATT.—read the second and twentieth chapter. ’Tis surely enough upon earth to be vex’d, With wives who eternal confusion are spreading; “But in Heaven” (so runs the Evangelists’ Text) “We neither have giving in marriage, or wedding.” From this we suppose, (as indeed well we may,) That should Saints after death, with their spouses put up more, And wives, as in life, aim at absolute sway, All Heaven would ring with the conjugal uproar. Distraction and Discord would follow in course, Nor MATTHEW, nor MARK, nor ST. PAUL, can deny it, The only expedient is general divorce, To prevent universal disturbance and riot. But though husband and wife, shall at length be disjoin’d, Yet woman and man ne’er were meant to dissever, Our chains once dissolv’d, and our hearts unconfin’d, We’ll love without bonds, but we’ll love you for ever. Though souls are denied you by fools and by rakes, Should you own it yourselves, I would even then doubt you, Your nature so much of celestial partakes, The Garden of Eden would wither without you.
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40
It's cold and it's empty, this hollowed out feeling of pleasure... I focus on the rush of desire - desire for the sensations alone... The sweet friction in my center, the pounding force of what is you, merely a tool for my cravings' fulfillment; an object for nothing but my physical satisfaction; a satiating of my burning lust... You're worthless to me outside this externally needful task... Not my heart, neither my soul, have even the smallest holding pocket, cradling some sort of love or care for you... Tell me, please, why we do this to ourselves, over and over, again and again...? Are we honestly contented by the passionless movements of our graceless pieces and parts? Is this animalistic ritual the solution for what we so desperately search for; that for which we agonizingly struggle, crawling down confused, tangled paths, looking without knowing exactly what we seek, despairing, sickly, exhausted, and so pathetic; so pitifully weak?? Are we satisfied with ******* Just ******* could that be the answer to the question that, from existence becoming, the human being has been, from the depths of the soul, constantly, repetitively screaming? I cannot bring myself to believe such a notion could hold a sand grain's worth of truth, but you seem to have accepted this joyless, hope-crushing idea, and as for myself, I know I'll only continue ignoring that which my heart keeps urgently speaking with a driving, whispering voice, from my inner-most recesses, and continue on with the oblivious dance of this pretending; this charades game all the world eagerly strives to play... I will bottle the juices of my self-deceiving, self-depriving fruits, borne of my guilt, my denial birthed shame... Yes, of course! I'm absolutely satisfied with the act of mere ******* Feelings of wholeness sweep and flutter, butterflying the insides of my body's unseen puzzle pieces, and I'm simply overflowing with this ever so peaceful calm... Lies, fiction, deception, robed by willfully grasped ignorance, keeps us marching, two-by-two, silently miserable husks, just living until it's time to lay in another void-like place, this one our grave, lonely and cold... And now it doesn't seem like there's anything left, for any one of us, to say...
0
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 7:52 AM UTC
Satisfied with *******
It's cold and it's empty, this hollowed out feeling of pleasure... I focus on the rush of desire - desire for the sensations alone... The sweet friction in my center, the pounding force of what is you, merely a tool for my cravings' fulfillment; an object for nothing but my physical satisfaction; a satiating of my burning lust... You're worthless to me outside this externally needful task... Not my heart, neither my soul, have even the smallest holding pocket, cradling some sort of love or care for you... Tell me, please, why we do this to ourselves, over and over, again and again...? Are we honestly contented by the passionless movements of our graceless pieces and parts? Is this animalistic ritual the solution for what we so desperately search for; that for which we agonizingly struggle, crawling down confused, tangled paths, looking without knowing exactly what we seek, despairing, sickly, exhausted, and so pathetic; so pitifully weak?? Are we satisfied with ******* Just ******* could that be the answer to the question that, from existence becoming, the human being has been, from the depths of the soul, constantly, repetitively screaming? I cannot bring myself to believe such a notion could hold a sand grain's worth of truth, but you seem to have accepted this joyless, hope-crushing idea, and as for myself, I know I'll only continue ignoring that which my heart keeps urgently speaking with a driving, whispering voice, from my inner-most recesses, and continue on with the oblivious dance of this pretending; this charades game all the world eagerly strives to play... I will bottle the juices of my self-deceiving, self-depriving fruits, borne of my guilt, my denial birthed shame... Yes, of course! I'm absolutely satisfied with the act of mere ******* Feelings of wholeness sweep and flutter, butterflying the insides of my body's unseen puzzle pieces, and I'm simply overflowing with this ever so peaceful calm... Lies, fiction, deception, robed by willfully grasped ignorance, keeps us marching, two-by-two, silently miserable husks, just living until it's time to lay in another void-like place, this one our grave, lonely and cold... And now it doesn't seem like there's anything left, for any one of us, to say...
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Jinxx I can't say I know what your feeling, But I can say whatever it is I've been there, Trying so hard do nothing but tearing and pleading. Why not talk about it? Come on pull up a chair. WE ARE HERE JINXX!!!! Someone here is probably dying on the inside, Crying her eyes out, not for anything random, But she is crying for YOU you Jinxx. Please don't go Jinxx... Your poems hit so close to home... Not only to me but to almost every single person on HP. Your words are inspiring, Not depriving. Your words are comforting, Not worthless. YOU ARE NOT WORTHLESS You are special to everyone. You are special to someones heart. Not just everyone on HP, But the one who is crying her eyes out, Sending you messages trying to reach out to you. The one who needs you most. YOU ARE ONE OF A KIND JINXX Don't go leaving us all to wonder what happened? Don't leave Creep all alone in this world, Don't leave all of your 69 followers alone in this world. Don't let your demons take control Jinxx, Cause I promise you the ground isn't as nice as someones love. A hospital room isn't as comforting, A knife isn't the best of friend, Pills aren't the only pain killers... Sometimes all we need is a smile to be put on our face by someone we know who cares and we care about. ***JINXX YOU ARE NOT JINXXED FOR LIFE...YOU ARE GOING TO BE LOVED AND CARED ABOUT FOR LIFE...I SWEAR ON MY LIFE. JUST PLEASE DON'T GO!!!!***
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Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
DEAR JINXX