"deters" poems
If your silky lavender eyes choose not to meet mine
That’s fine.
Fantasies live and then die.
But for you, I'll try.
A man whose eyes hold only yours,
Sweet, lavender gazing privately,
Other sight blinded by joviality.
Uncontrollable emotion,
A shotgun blast from dad,
Deters no serious man.
A princess,
A jewel,
An emerald,
A girl.
Not an object,
But a privilege.
A man not centered on ***
Relationship not just in the bed,
Kisses on tangerine cheeks,
Through rain,
Foretelling lifelong love.
Soft skin swims,
I touch with permission,
We laugh and love,
None other.
Flawless beauty,
Like diamond,
Like velvet,
A wonderful image.
Thus you.
----Ardent Bowel ----
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 6:10 AM UTC
may the way that gives way to this accord of may be in awe of truth and not the fruits of disarray
I shall be meditating upon the roads travelled and many discoveries gather that I have unravelled
I shall curl my high excitements and misguided ambitions to unfurl what the calls of the wise unfurl and admonish
In the mist amidst the tricking twists of fits and false gists, may I hold up fists that will seize to desist and delete the disease of fallacy in curtailed wit
In the shadows dark, some pale
may I not fade into the tales of lies and manipulative games
In the guise of dames so modern and fabulously inclined to fame,
may I guage and carry my animosity into the mystery of my identity where only the genuine and real can relate
In the encounters with material and all that deters from the mystic and ethereal,
I hope to remember the real surreal to surmise the reels of fantasy thrills in graphic frills and euphonic trills
However the gigantic systems of the world in money, greed, vanity or lust, may doctor sickness into the souls of the lost and weak:
may my heart remain meek and my vision bright and led by the lens of the soul....
With or without I pray not as a religious pilgrim but a sage seeking neverending Light... ever the more grateful, harnessing the grapes of creation, worshiping a servant's code in humility.
hustling about this rash hassle of life overshadowed by pyramids and castles
remaining true to the cause even when temptation is endlessly bustling about
remember remember the hustle when you were down and out without
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
If your silky lavender eyes choose not to meet mine
That’s fine.
Fantasies live and then die.
But for you, I'll try.
A man whose eyes hold only yours,
Sweet, lavender gazing privately,
Other sight blinded by joviality.
Uncontrollable emotion,
A shotgun blast from dad,
Deters no serious man.
A princess,
A jewel,
An emerald,
A girl.
Not an object,
But a privilege.
A man not centered on ***
Relationship not just in the bed,
Kisses on tangerine cheeks,
Through rain,
Foretelling lifelong love.
Soft skin swims,
I touch with permission,
We laugh and love,
None other.
Flawless beauty,
Like diamond,
Like velvet,
A wonderful image.
Thus you.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 4:41 PM UTC
At the back of my mind,
there are many thoughts,
There's always that one voice,
The voice convinced me of things,
If not all the time, it will be some of the time.
I never thought it could harm anyone,
In particular, I never thought it could,
But I underestimated the small voice,
I misunderstood its determination.
It takes control of me, feeding me,
With thoughts that hinders me from living,
Deters me from my path,
Bind me from reality.
I give in to it a couple of time,
My weak self can't seem to win over it,
Their determination overthrow my rationality,
Controls my life and action.
It tells me I'm not good enough, it tells me,
I'm not worth it, it tells me things that hurts.
It retreats sometime, and when it does, I get so happy.
I could be happy with no second thoughts, I can respond.
I can smile, I can laugh.
It felt liberating to do so.
It felt as if everything are perfect; my life is perfect.
It made me forget.
But then, it didn't want me to forget.
The chain that held them captive wasn't strong enough,
So they broke free, they resurfaces.
"I'm back" it claims.
- ponder
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 10:32 PM UTC
Instinct becomes arbitrary when my willpower deters my integrity
Aspirations are mere illusion when my intuition exceeds my ailing grasp
A *********** creep of disintegrating fantasies releases
a
sense
of realism.
Nicotine surfs my limbs
as thoughts align with tectonic disasters.
Malice masks insinuating balance,
An inevitable roar of discontent prefaces
A cruising tune of initiated indifference
yet hope
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 2:21 AM UTC
~ You strange ****
You ****** ****
You‘re something else, you
You might not be well
The self-preaching
Was getting old
Even when it was new
They all knew
There is something
Wrong about your English
Something makes them wonder
If you‘re really all in there
When one said you were trash
You thought the cynics would
Make everything better
It never did last
~
Scary girl with big buns
On her shrunken head
Thinks you better quiet
And only listen instead
~
The dwarfs cursed you
To the ******* ground
You slime, you puke
They burn and bury
You to the very ground
Those kisses were curses
You stupid slime, you
The guardian never watched
Over you to stop the blackness
Which crept unto you
Now you‘re some tainted ****
And they all know you‘re untrue
And they drool acid on you
~
When the brain deters
From all that filth in your mind
You‘ll realize the bacteria
Will make you go blind
And as you sink in the water
You've once walked on
Your stupid ****** up fans
Will all be gone
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
Wearing an invisible cloak,wandered she
Her skin as pale as a corpse but yet lustrous;
Makes her way towards the isolated forest,
Desolation seeks her,absence of utopia.
Existence unknown,the forest being the dwelling place.
Her solitude life deters crowd of happy folks,
All she wants,Oh' all she wants,a name.
A name signifying her unknown existence,
Lives a suffocated life,seeking answers unimaginable.
Abandoned in a lonely place, lived she among the wild.
Curiosity fills her mind,
Wrath and fear of yesteryear s' sufferings,
Dominates her, the abandoned maiden.
Wandered she in the wild,
Bearing an identity nobody knew.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 2:02 AM UTC
Look at her.
See her little cracks?
The ones that line her arms,
The ones on her back.
Her porcelain face,
With the saddest of eyes,
Where the missing pieces are,
She fills them as she cries.
The tears that fall,
She catches in a pail,
Putting them in her cracks,
Thinking she's failed.
One day a little porcelain boy found her,
Crying all alone,
Without any shelter,
So he picks up his phone,
And then he shatters himself.
As the pieces fall she crawls over to him,
He picks up his pieces and finds the ones to fill her cracks,
He aligns them all,
Each one filling her back.
But after he's finished,
She leaves him there,
With every little crack,
His body so bare.
He sits there alone,
Thinking about that little porcelain girl,
The one who he cared for,
The one who made his heart twirl.
One day she passes him,
In the same spot as where he healed her,
She gives him a small smile,
And then deters.
The little boy cries there,
All alone and silent,
Now knowing about,
How love can be so violent.
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 2:44 PM UTC
My way will be found...
To these "warm waters"
and abundant agave among
a lingering, gentle devil
more potent than that austere burn.
It's the gaze you give me,
though gated by hissing apertures, screens, & skype,
that deters my sensibility. For this unconventionality is certanly fathomed.
Believe me
But it's the glittering glances, shot offscreen in blushful bantering
that
shocks my compass not due south
but to wherever you are.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 6:00 AM UTC
I used to believe that we couldn't get any closer
than a doctor - patient relationship
Cause everytime you'd come to me
you'd always ask for a diagnosis
I'd ask for your symptoms, check your pulse
your temperature, even your recent meals
then you'd tell me about your recent pains
your heartaches, cramps, and muscle strains
Little did you know than I wanted more
than stories about sicknesses that deters you
Like your favorite color, favorite fruit
favorite band... stories you never told me
I hoped to be more than just your doctor
a person that just cares for your well being
I care more than the sicknesses that bother you
I wish you could trust me more
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 10:31 PM UTC
Skin hot to the touch paired with your fiery temper always singes those around. Like a fire you can only blaze higher.
Aloof and cold you never express the workings of your mind. Preferring to freeze me out and give the cold shoulder until I'm begging to be burned by your touch again.
Your so mixed up being hot and cold at the same time. The warmth of your body excites me the frosty voice deters me. Its like winter in summer dealing with you.
I never understood how you can be so warm and cold at the same time and like a fool I get burned over and over again.
Even if you soothe the burn I'll freeze and shatter sooner than later.
Your so hot and cold, a real paradox you know? If only you knew how confusing you really are.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 9:13 PM UTC
I pen these words for my dearest friend Loghain Carvò
whos brilliance and humility deters him from penning brilliance in words
You cannot, no you cannot compete
with the brilliance that is I
for when you're long forgotten
my words will be emblazoned 'cross the sky
Inferior beings all who bandy words with me
for I do pen the perfect verse
to set the whole world free
Artistic talent!!! Yes I was blessed to enter this earth as the best
the world has ever seen
I take up the pen, take yet the brush
create that
of which you peasants
to create can only dream
Perfection born into my soul
Oh, perfection that is I
Lesser mortals gaze upon my great work
Theres none more great than I
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 9:29 AM UTC
Maybe by luck, By chance maybe,As fast as a duck, to my heart it came to be. Though too much for me to **** I decided to let it be.
Separated by milliometers, divided by ductness. Sought and fought by haters, held stronger by heartlessness. Inside bright as stars, outside dull with hollowness. What it says deters and deprives of happiness.
I ran along by fate, to get it to be my mate. Solemnly my pride I ate, and to it I opened my gate. By luck it ****** my bait, and it I managed to get. Though it said to me wait, my fears to it I let. Because I feared to be late, an early bird myself I met. Thanks to my fearful date, undilligently I made it against its hate.
A wired soul, creased heart, a skinned spirit, playing foul, sins fat, found out about it. Serenity bowl, what a flirt. Did I mind it? Offcourse I did. Gabbered heat and thought myself a *** With a mighty haul, i unhooked my love and away I got swift.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 4:06 AM UTC
As rough and as difficult
life may well be
it's still so deeply beautiful
down in the
philippines
The beauty of the village
might not be apparent
at first glance.
What deters at first
might be the killing
and the nature of a life
dictated by chance.
But once you start accepting,
adapting and reflecting,
you'll notice that it's just
the island way of living.
Nurture nature's native nest,
share what yield the fields have held,
food to feed for feeling folk,
care about your neighbors health.
Live in tune with natures wrath
but don't exceed her measure
stick to filipino paths,
thus warmth and generosity
will provide you with pleasure.
Red Horse Strong for everyone,
Tuba, Tanduay and San Miguel.
Menthols, **** and beetlenut,
you just have to treat us well.
Sabong's not for the soft,
it's difficult to watch.
Roosters duel over
who avoids the cooking ***
blades fly through the air
and blood adorns
the sand with spots.
The winner stays a champion,
the loser's in a plastic bag, granting us that evenings dinner
and we've just made our money back.
Wet markets aplenty,
with fish you've never seen before.
Smells of seasalt, blood and gore,
mix to form a memory,
akin to sobering melody.
Watch out for the Aswang
and do not break a mirror.
Keep the deadbolt shut at night,
to avoid unpleasant surprises.
The ocean's at your doorstep
and so are the bananas
and the coconuts.
Skinny teens disguised with bandanas,
strapped, riding through the village.
Don't worry they're just cousins,
standing vigil, chasing cops.
Fistfight near the fish ponds,
neither one backs down.
Tilapia watch eagerly
for who'll sink to the ground.
Their brother came by earlier
selling pastries with his friend.
Buy three each for everyone,
your total's fifty cents.
Everywhere there's laughter,
music, sun and food.
Really nothing better
than the filipino mood.
Jul 29, 2025
Jul 29, 2025 at 10:00 AM UTC
My dear mother managed to reel me into the mandatory pre-christmas cleaning
Which drives me wildly insane
Rearranging cutlery and scouring the sink is not my ideal way of spending a Wednesday morning
I could think of worse things to have been engaged in
but this wretched activity is way up there.
In all honesty my mother's (bless her) kitchen qualifies to be on an episode of Hoarders
Depleted from obsessively dusting off countertops
I sat down sipping my green tea
Watching her take on the rearranging of the pots in the dreaded corner cupboard
Chucking out the old
Indecisive when it came to some
When the job was done
The space left was aplenty
Seeing the rusted pots and charred pans to be thrown in the trash
Then it hit me
If one harbours filth, negativity or the past
Newer and better things have no space to make their way into and settle in one's life
Re-birthing is only possible if one completely purges that which deters them from metamorphosising.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 6:58 AM UTC
it isn't like you didn't know, ash and coal spilling from your mouth
like a stone pit the day after a campfire; cold, dead, acrid, gray
but still you want to pry it out of me
reach deep down into my throat
you know i protect it there
too painful to release
but you pry and you never know when to stop
and you never know when enough is enough
bright red stop signs
neon red lights
you waltz right through them
charm your way past
nothing deters, and so i curl up again
a tight, miniature rosebud
vulnerable, tiny thorns
your over-sized hands tear right through
you tear through
and your tearing through breaks me
it breaks it all
Sep 15, 2011
Sep 15, 2011 at 2:53 AM UTC
O Lord forgive me
Everything's hazy
I can't seem to live right
Without going crazy
My head is exploding
My gut is as well
You'd think this deters me
Like the prospect of hell
But time and again
Over and over
It doesn't, I hover...
Poison is lover
It's witchcraft, it's spirits,
Unholy devices,
It's victual vices,
And *** with sweet spices
It's worm of tequila
And the shine of the moon
It's Shire in my bowl
It's the Green Fairy's spoon
Lord I am wretched
I may be near-dead
I can't stop the pounding in
My ears, eyes, and head
I just want deliverance
I'm stuck in this bog
...well, maybe I'll just try
The hair of the dog...?
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 5:48 AM UTC
A piece of my soul given
the piece that deters logic
allows to see beyond any blemish
accepting wholly
reciprocating undeterred love
rejected was this gift
now I find it was lost
whisked away
over thousands of miles of ocean
I gave you a piece of my soul
and you spat it into the sea
a final blow
amidst a series of many
that stole my ability
to ever again feel
such compassion
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 10:00 PM UTC
Stop for just a second and form this thought.
something that you might not contemplate a lot.
If you where to die today, what would you have to say?
would you be in dismay? maybe prey? Or articulate a thought to convey?
To many let there dreams slip away, and are lead astray as there goals slowly decay.
for lack of instant gratifications deters they're determination
and by my calculation this is a deadly combination.
if you seek success you must not stifle progress.
as slow as it may be, eventually results you shall see.
for most the thought to give in, outweigh ones hunger to win.
motivation truly begins, when you look deep within.
now what do you do with your days, what have you done improve
what excuses have you made that leave your goals unpursued.
with no idea of your possible fate, and not a taste of the greatness that awaits.
now what would you have to say if you were to die today, die today.
how you let you dreams slip away?
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC
It's the twinkle in her eyes with a smile she never hides
She loves to have fun and bring light to everyone
Her laugh's so joyful, her love's so pure
She's always happy you never see her gloom
But at night she lays with tears rolling down her face
All the funny antics gone, pretentions are done
She's lonely but not alone
Her heart is empty and she's all numb
She has friends for better but not when its bitter
But loves them no less and makes the best out of it
She puts on a facade of happiness
Even though she feels the emptiness
She's that girl with the brown eyes
She's the sanguine that never deters
She's that cheerful little gal
She's the trophy girl of everyone
She's the girl whose dead but still breathes, with her flawless skin yet scarred within.
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 11:22 AM UTC
*the jewels on your ruby lips are pale
and the sundering of all earthly pleasures
wane as I wax into impotence and null frames...
I join the ghosts of our habit
and clown around the Maypole
like a Fool.... Nothing deters me from being
broken and unrequited and self abused.
your skin is lovely.
And yes... I remember the solemn vows
of Our intimate embrace.... But am I the only one
who would return to our hurricane
without preaching the Fifth.
I am ready and able to unload a Jupiter
of raw Lust and Kismet.
Are you ready to consume me ?
as I walk fire ?
As I approach you
to appease so many stupidities ?
God knows nothing but sharp sticks
and Halos.... As -
Human love knows nothing
But The One We Love....
and the yellow
in Midnight*
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 5:57 PM UTC
I think I’ll call her Griselda or Florentine of the sea
She is lovelier than a star fish with eyes of green
And hair twists around this, brown ringlet, queen
Constance of graciousness a madamoiselle’s dream
Mood matches her dresses, bohemian with a spark
And nothing deters that subterranean love heart.
Love Grandma to Connie ***
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 10:11 AM UTC
If
the truth
deters your desires
they are not worthy.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 9:21 AM UTC
and hell, and war
and all that bombardment,
a thousand chess pieces
in an intellectual's mouth
like scrambled eggs: the same
****** superstition
of needing awe -
ivory tower talk, the best
talk there is, when all limbs
drop off and the vegetables
talk: tongues on cucumbers,
tongues on cabbages, tongues
on cauliflowers - waggling about
like concerns for cars: how
many horse power thrusts?
and hell, and war
and all that bombardment -
like poetry, a bomb drops daily
coming from the ultimate war machine,
the res vanus, the empty thing,
the sponge -
because why would
a bomb or a poem be ever dropped
from the Cartesian weapon
that's kept, intact, peacefully
thinking, antonymous-synonymous
kindred of narration?
there, another bomb,
here, another day,
there, another bomb,
here another day,
ping
pong
ping pong
poetry
poesy
poetry
poesy -
and the world just turns
into black | white
and everything becoming
oh so ****** ordinary - so Tao -
or Tao works with
a billionth birth in a nation that deters
from media frenzy.
another way to say it:
how to write poetry when not listening
to music, when not listening to things
and your fingers' puncture on the keys -
overview of the news,
how to write in order to talk-over people:
you could be worse-off than being
a Heidegger apologist -
or to say: it was the binding
to the zeitgeist: the years later meant
repenting -
so from being defined
in Cartesian diagnostics as thinking,
to deconstruct that and become empty
(here too! my compass
n. Heidegger
w. Descartes
e. Kant
and s. Diogenes)
as the acronym suggests, toward the four winds!
but of course, many more influences,
but then again: who did i find commanding
and with difficulty bound...
oh i too wish i could write populist
poetry, worded: shambles! shame! outrage!
outrage! shame! shambles! a national disaster!
but here's little me, tucked away into a cosy
niche - weaving my little spiderweb -
or how
the fingers feels, after having spent 2 days
crushing 40kg of grapes to make wine,
from grapes to pulp, from grapes to pulp,
in the shed in the garden, 2 days, 40 kilograms of grapes;
i should have added a few apples to be fermented alongside.
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 8:01 PM UTC
Unto you the whole earth be given.
By Devine breath, that which is dust
Be brought into the realm of the living.
Through love created, by wisdom designed
Intentionally in the Lord’s own image.
What is it to you that seems pleasing to
Eat? What limits you now will no longer
If you would reach out your hand to
the fruit and feast on that which is withheld.
What matter of conscience deters you?
What causes you to hesitate?
Jan 26, 2021
Jan 26, 2021 at 10:37 PM UTC