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Alyssa Underwood Jul 2016
It's at the point of desperation that the soul finds its deepest desire,
and in that desire lies everything of which true life is made.
Perhaps the first and central question concerning surrender
ought not to be, “What am I willing to give to God?”
but “What am I willing to receive from Him?”

For it's only in the realization that I have nothing to give Him and
He has everything to give me that true humility and surrender come.
If I would simply receive all He offers me and let Him fill me up
I would have no room in my hands to hold onto anything else.  
But how often it is that we won't receive it until everything else is lost.

It's the secret and inexpressible dreams of the soul
which are the hardest things of all to let go and the last to go.
When they are finally gone we have nothing left to run to but Him,
and when we do we find that He is the beginning,
the end and the center of every secret dream.

Ah, blessed Peniel—that mysterious and holy ground
where heartache collides head-on with romance,
that deep and shadowed land where we struggle
with God and with men and we overcome,
that painful yet glorious place which we may leave limping
with a wrenched hip but we do not care, for we have seen God’s face—
like Jacob, may we not pass you by without being forever changed.
Genesis 32

~~~
ryn Sep 2014
Sun up till sun down
Trapped in a perpetual frown
Moon comes then she goes
Drops free fall from my nose

Waking hours in the daylight
Aimless motions; clumsy, puppet-like
Waking hours in the night
Uncomfortable in my own skin and psych

Sleeplessness be my companion
Restlessness be my actions
Despondence be my demon
Crest fallen be my reason

Frantically sifting through my head
Vertically upright or supine in bed
Compartmentalising might be key
To fend off self inflicted insanity

Desperation hangs overhead; ripe and bruised
Excuses upon excuses ridiculously overused
Furiously typing before my mind curds
Hopes of finding peace in these unspoken words
Darkness is upon me... Please excuse my rantings
Jeff Gaines Apr 2018
Hello everyone,

  I'm so very sorry … I feel horrible doing this, but I have no choice. You see, I have published my first book on Amazon/Kindle! This piece (and many others) had to be taken down because they do not allow published material to be available online for free. (Go figure) I wanted to leave the shell of the posts because I felt compelled to leave all your helpful and loving comments. (Silly sentimental, I know), but I also didn't want to just have the pieces disappear without an explanation. I feel bad enough as it is!

  I owe ALL of you so, SO much for all of your reads, love, and support. It was YOU that gave me the gumption to FINALLY get off my **** and publish! Thank you all for the warm comments, camaraderie, and encouragement! I will still be here, reading, uploading and just being the Rascal that I am. How could I EVER leave you guys?

  The book is called “The Way I See It – FictionPhilosophySoul Food” and it will be FREE for the first few days on Kindle Select, so watch for it, if you are interested. I hope that you go and grab it. If you do, I would also hope that you find it worthy, you would leave me a good review. That will help me get in the public eye! Soon afterward (2-3 days or so), it will be available in paperback.

Find the book(s) here: www.amazon.com/author/jeff.gaines

Or find the book(s), and all about me, here: www.JeffGaines.world

  Soon after, I also hope to have my first novel (a supernatural thriller), called “Wanderer” available as well!

  Wish me luck!
Big, Biggest Love,
        Jeff Gaines
Haven't we ALL had this dream at one time or another?
Isabel Aghahowa Oct 2018
i look at you
you look up and away
you're ready to flee
from this deserted place
sow your seeds, grow your roots
somewhere else

i inhale the dust
circle the discoloured wood
the bitter taste of your drifting eyes
made the living room floor even colder than usual
as the air grew thin and sharp

i know it's real, your face is here
but it breathes
along with the tress
on the outside
separate from me
atptla Mar 2018
Fallen leaves sleep on a lake, sealed with a long forgotten tale.
The heady wind that doesn't let the trees to sleep rules the desolate vale.
Yet, lily-white blossoms, much shinier than arrogant moonlight,
Held their breaths, blinking the shyness, wait on blue philomels' flight.

A poor voice shivers, under the calm water and firm ground,
As to be known by the faltering stars and not to lose his only bound.
Once offered his heart to her white hands hurting with each caress,
But dug it into a fair melody as he was afraid to confess.

In dancing delicacy of a raindrop, his disowned words are hidden,
Has to stay awake, but night is endless and the morning is forbidden.
Wraps around his neck with cold fingers, bereavement fed by devious dismay,
Bereft of remedy, he watches his asunder soul's draining away.
the hate
comes from every angle
but mostly from the heart
in spite of glaring
desperation
that leaves the
lawn uncut;
as if littered driveways
and starving dogs
justify another term
of stolen wealth
After watching the recent debates.
ryn Sep 2014
I see you, monster...
In your sockets bore dead, dark eyes
They hold the blackest of stares
Nebulous swirling pits of demise

Thin lips would spout the most sibilant of hisses
Every so often would curl into a snarl
Dry and chapped, almost unworthy of kisses

Large, rough snout, jutting out like a crag
You sniff around tirelessly for easy targets
Preying on the unsuspecting minds of those under your flag

Tapering chin, sprouting strands of coarse hair
Unkempt and gritty from your last meal
Decaying teeth, crooked due to little to no care

Your face is cratered; tales of trying adolescent years
Wearing a face only a mother could love
Expressionless but it screams out your fears

**** jointed limbs that grew out of sync
Disproportionate, misshapen, grotesque
Little noggin with sparse hair, packed within, a brain that thinks


I hear you, monster...
As you stalk your sleepless nights
Nocturnal ambience be your playground
Lurking in the dark; places with no light

Bulky, heavy feet but deft and silent
Can barely notice when you're up and about
As if cloaked yourself stealthy, with steps ever transient

Respire you do, exhaling breaths so gnarly
Ingesting good air, converting into fervid, loathsome notions
With which you paint a portrait so ghastly


I feel you monster...
Deep within the recesses of my heart
Destroying and distorting all that was pure
Testing my will till I should fall apart

You're but the twisted manifestation of conscience
Feeding on my trials and nurturing them into vile abominations
I despise that of you but I seem to have developed dependence


I see you, monster...**
You're horrid and beastly, an embodiment of absolute horror
I await the day that you would finally dissolve
For I am weary of seeing you staring back in the mirror
Still riding out the storm... Please bear with me
Marlita Sep 2018
I heard a song once
Long ago, from some golden age.
It set my soul to simmer
Like an incensed leaf of sage.
Songs like this
Are more about what you feel
Than what you mean.
Because in the end,
It's the loneliness
That makes you find
Company,
Not your memories.
Rose Apr 8
Fat man of my past
Eyes the past of my future
He cant find better
Her eyes are the same as mine. Black and white, but her eyes have beauty in it
Her long hair. Dyed and shines, falls beautifully behind her back, hanging on her head carelessly
Her smile brings joy in life of mine. I want to be the reason of her happiness. Desprately
Her heart makes me blind. I seek nothing else but an imaginative object that I can't see.

Oh Lord let me kiss her lips and let the addiction kills me
Oh Lord let me see her eyes closely. The eyes that will brighten my life so I could see
Oh Lord hear my jealousy, the seed of my sins that grows in my heart slowly
Oh Lord bring her to me. The thief who stole my heart silently

Dear Lord my Saviour
Bless her and protect her
Dear Lord my Saviour
Hear my prayers for her
For the wingless angel....or the thief of my heart and the trespassers of my mind
Marlita Oct 2018
It's been too long
Since I've felt at home
In that concrete kingdom
Where my soul is from.
I can still remember
The smells of the city,
The hotdog vendors yelling
For pedestrians to buy their wares.
I miss it like I would a child
Walking down those streets
As the sun beats down on me
Giving me peace for a little while.
The songs of the streets
Resonate through my ears still
While this cool night air
Makes the jazz music take flight.
I'm not cut out for this retiree's haven.
I need to go home
Where I'm at home
Always,
New York.
I thought I'd be home by now.
mia May 10
my torment is one of clouds and flowers
freckles upon sun-kissed oranges
roses through honey
& eyes like the abstraction of Renaissance

oh butterfly how you make my heart melt
chocolate brownie wonders with giggles on top
your effervescence brighter than a summers day
you have my pure heart within your oppressive interior

silences are filled with images of creation
a cornucopia for even the loneliest poet

I leap into our pool of nostalgia for old time's sake
to find your words transform into serpents.

secret messages whisper into the ears of another
futile flames burn brighter
your eyes ***** my flames & ignite my passion
if only your elusive heart was mine
a work in progress. as always, comment what you think down below!
Lewis Hyden Dec 2018
Fire stirs gently
In the depths of my chest.
Hot rocks, rolling
The molten stones down to

My stomach. The
Ache is quelled, substitute
To flame. Piping
Cold nectar, as gold,

Drawing only the
Boldest flames, dragon-like,
From my throat, my eyes,
My thoughts,

Invoked. Strong,
Stirring-gold, brazing,
Golden flames. Quell
The pains of my

Productivity.
Sooth the raw burns
Of my purpose,
Or lack thereof.
A poem about alcoholism.
#31 in the Distant Dystopia anthology.

© Lewis Hyden, 2018
Isabelle Bigelow Jul 2018
tell me you love me so we can skip the rest
or at least that you care enough about me
to ignore the bags under my eyes
talk to me like you’ve forgotten about
how selfish I am and how cold my lips are
breathe the smoke from my lungs
as though everything between shared cigarettes
and apologies were just pieces of a dream
the same dream where the stars whispered to us
telling us how this whole thing was doomed
and in the end you'd be the one reduced to embers
like those same ones we watched die
last year in the late-July air
tell me you love me so none of that matters anymore
or at least that you care enough about me to try
(a draft from my upcoming book “self portrait”)
Dead Rose One Nov 2017
<>

No, He said.

I want you
wanting.

I want to taste the miracle of your desperation,
lick the sweet sweat of tense from the hairline well hid
on the back of your pleasuring neck.

I need your needing constant completion,
but not succeeding.

The airborne aroma of your desires are fiery, arousing,
stimulus sensating me by the unending beauty of dissatisfaction,
this virus desirous, infection, makes my perpetual wanting  
for an incomplete perfect woman,
forever seeking betterment,
perfectly complete.


<>
11-15-17 11:51pm
mixed up emotions re this one; who is the striver, who is selfless   and/or selfish;  can be understood in many different ways
TB Dentz Jul 2018
Like a lion in the desert
Scrawny and rat-like but still fierce and intimidating
Thirsty but miles from water and used to it
Outcast but used to it
Dangerous and on the verge of death but used to it
atptla Feb 2018
Days passing by without talking,
Hours passing by yielding to a timid longing.
A longing that cries like a brute in chains wanting to be free,
Killing each of the desires and wishes in me.

I have a place where I watch all my dreams be immolated,
Beneath enhsrouded clouds having a story needs to be recited.
I have a burden inside that I can't dare to elude,
As I require it to feel safe and appease my feud.

Millions of hollow words spoken sincerely and tended to be forgot,
And millions of broken promises burried in my heart,
Echoing in blank last and going astray,
Nothing left for me to hold on and hinder the decay.

Weaker now, the modest sound in my chest,
Drowning meekly but in suspense at death's behest.
Fading strength, and falling a pearless snowflake,
Beseeching this cold sanctity to ease my ache.

My tenuity can't strive with time's withering,
And I hear an ominous whistle's whispering.
While the last light dies out into dark,
You will be lost in time without leaving a mark.
gracie Mar 2018
he's a careless night drive, beautiful
but deadly, his laugh intoxicating
like plum wine, a smile masking
the scent of desperation.

I followed his tracks through the smoking
streets like a stray cat chasing
Moonlight, cursed with a curiosity
that’ll **** her in the end.

dazed, she dances with the devil
to the electric hum of city
lights that gorge on the
fragile glow of the stars.
Äŧül Nov 2012
In That Moonlit Night Standing In The Abaft,
Watching The Towed Flaccid Wooden Raft,
I Thought That I Saw An Angel Resting,
Lying Exhausted There In That Craft.

I Call The Girl Out Unbeknownst Of Her Kind Name,
"Hey Young Lady!!" To Which She Didn't Much Respond,
She Looks Up Towards Me Once In Anguish & Collapsed,
I Spot Desperation In Amber Eyes & Resolve To Help Her.

The Crewmen Had Now Been Doing The Paddles After Resting,
I Summon My Captain & Ask, "Do You See That Girl In The Raft?"
The Captain Now Smiles To Say, "Commodore, Better Get Married,"
I Look So Clueless To Which He Simply Replied, "There Is No Girl."

True He Was As She Had Simply Disappeared,
I Started Thinking Of My Sleep Needs That Day,
I Looked Around Again In A Hope To Find The Girl,
I Had Compromised My Routine As The Commodore.

Then I Immediately Realized It Was My Wild Phantasm,
Now This Was Just A Plain Illusion Of A Tired Sailor's Mind,
No Mermaids Could Have Ever Existed In Reality & Were Fake,
I Turned Towards The Deck To Go Back To My Bunk For Sleeping.

As I Climbed Down The Stairs To Enter My Room Amazed & Dazed,
I Saw Her Standing And Waiting For Me By The Side Of My Bunk,
I Accepted That Delusion Of My Mind & Started To Lie Down,
She Said, "I'm As Real As Your Thoughts, Don't Fear Me."

She & I-Me & Her, Had The Best Time That Night,
In The Morning She Was Gone & Was Just Gone,
Disappeared Into Thin Air While I Was Asleep,
Each Day I So Dearly Long For Her To Return.
7 Stanzas of a Beautiful Open-Eyed Dream

Read the entire Angel Saga by me, Atul Kaushal.
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/13567/the-angel-series/

My HP Poem #19
©Atul Kaushal

I thank you all so much for the overwhelming response that this poem has received.

If you get interested in reading my novel's eBook after having read this poem then do visit http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B00MYY0DMA for buying my story titled "7 Seconds" and supporting my medical expenses.
Isabelle Bigelow Aug 2018
we lost ourselves in ourselves.
footprints in the snow only led us
back to where we’d started.

i don’t know how you managed
to talk your way out of that one.
(a draft from my upcoming book “self portrait”)
Marlita Oct 2018
Wandering vagabond
With seeing eyes
Gazing lushly upon
This glittering mine.
Shiver the cold
Refusing a croaking fire,
Silvery gold
Taking hold of desire.
Lusting,
You reach out.
Mourning,
You're left without.
Now nothing
To do or say,
How charming
My hollow grave.
lael anderson Mar 10
i read the ovid and the sappho and
try to pretend i don’t see myself
reflected in every poem
achilles and patroclus rip apart my chest and heart and
i try to hide that their love [their tragedy] has left me bleeding

i go home and memorise auden’s lullaby
in the safety of midnight and my bedroom and i never recite it to anyone but i hold it close to my heart and keep it there

i’m not a tragedy yet but there’s still time

who’s to say if i guard my copy of howl a little too closely
it’s just a book but the pages and the words have sharp edges and they’re dangerous

i have to
hide from the open passion, from the naked light of their pure love
of their impure love
of their gentle emotions that ripped apart relationships and took lives

if i don’t see that passion in myself am i lying or just not looking hard enough
if i distance myself to examine the meter i can shift the magnifying glass away from introspection? if i talk about rhyme scheme and enjambmemt can i  avoid myself?
Marlita May 16
All it took was taking everything he ever had
And letting his heart take care of the rest.
Jaxey Jan 6
You were that person
In my story
That everyone else
Saw as the villain
The **** in the garden
Full of roses
But I saw you as a hero
Because what nobody else realized
Was that the weeds
You had planted
Were just your
Broken attempts
Of making something
Bloom
You were my hero that was everybody elses villain
empty seas Nov 2018
i’m trying hard
to keep it together
desperation is my middle name
restless nights
and hopeless days
i can’t do enough
can’t be enough
to keep up this juggling act
everything is falling apart so spectacularly
a fire of blues and reds and purples
one that only i can see

so i play a little game with myself
let’s see how well i can pretend everything is okay
i’ve gotten good at it recently
as my plans for my future start to crumble in my palms
i can still feign interest over a friend’s passing fling
i’ve even been able to pretend
my self esteem is going up
accepting compliments
even convincing myself i’m not a failure
it’s laughable, really
a ******* like me,
who can’t even keep
her life from falling apart,
finally loving herself?
not gonna happen

so i laugh
and sit
and watch
as everything falls apart
Wowee everything has not been good recently, and someone has made it worse, but I cant let it show bc I’m basically the therapist of the group
I’m supposed to be the emotionally stable one, the one you can always ask for advice or help in school work and I don’t know how long I can keep up this facade of being okay
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