"dieties" poems
Doo baa doo dweeb man without woman
and ye vee la lovisha woman without man
be like a tree w/o leaves, & flowers w/ no seed;
******* w/o hash; dat hash w/o ******
**** w/o crystal & drugs w/o tranquilin;
my favourites! - smack...! without brown sugar like sugar with no sweets;
showered on her yummy sweats.
swetean ********* aye plead!
gravity w/o **** be like her **** w/o dopping
bars w/o beers; night clubs w/o Hi-ladies;
hookah w/o "chillam"; & "madira" w/ no trekkies
like a cigarette w/o lighter, & dark jungle w/o lantern,
us men & you women be so incomplete w/o love like me - the Homewrecker w/ no affairs with love dieties.
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 8:48 PM UTC
I'm in a place when I smell the roses
time stopped, as well as the people that made me victim of them appossin.
My smile frozen, edged curved in time, forever to shine like michael jackson in the lime,
light, and MY smile will thrive forever to survive with positive vibes,
seein the horizon, the seas, feeling the breeze. love in the air I breathe.
Im pleased with myself in every way, happy, no one can down me.
The only way is if they ground me.
But even then my existence in a different plain.
Will still be the same, positivity is a drug I cant explain..
Ill chill Buddha, Smoke hookah with Ganesh, And kamsutra with different females dieties maybe Aphrodite. who knows?
arm wrestle with aeries , battle hades, Im feeling larger then life, im enlighten to Die twice and it wouldnt matter, cause positive vibe still writes and fights and chills and works for thrills.
To live it up at night, im happy for once and I thank my saints.
Cause without them, my ship wouldve been sanjked.
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC
The black, iron God arm punched
placid-blanched clouds, and dangled
cat cable down to lemon-vested men
with chalkboard faces.
*Basic algebra, today's date, daily
syllabi, God-fearing anecdotes,
and the evils of homosexuality.*
Fornicating with other dudes
is like moving Jesus' rock
with your condom'd *****
Let sleeping dieties die.
We find them buried deep beneath
**** ceramics by T.V. criminals,
rapists, murderers, buzzers, free-
lovers, angelheaded sweethearts.
They have nearly four dollar souls,
barely enough for a Wilpo dinner
at Hepburn Diner. #2 breakfast
with one cup of Columbian cartel
coffee with a pinch of whole milk
to take the edge off, so he won't
be gripping the booth vinyl when
a "freedom" flash cop car passes.
Police cruisers are just bigger bicycles
that we're afraid of, sporting cereal
box baseball cards in the spokes.
Cops were the kids that needed help
their first time fresh off training
wheels. Training academy training
them for low-speed cat chases through
flower beds.
Sweet daffodil, you didn't have to die
like this. You could've drank straight
from the pitcher at a stranger's dinner
party potluck, seen the guts of a New
York highrise, shared the coke left
beneath a woman's botched nose job.
You could have been more than this.
You could have been more.
You could have been.
You could have.
You could.
You.
You, daffodil, stamen-down
in Miracle Gro and dog ****
could have been more.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
beginnings bring
everyday anger
setting slings
of unfortune
upon girls
crying, innocents
dieing
bodies disfigured
all for
your disembodied
dieties
forcing your
HATE
crimes against
my sisters
little brothers
you’ve stolen
lives.
**** YOU**
and your
selfish ideologies
they were
just babies
with hands
beautiful hearts
dreaming sweetly
you are
lifetimes away
continents apart
just pray
you never
feel wrath
of this mother
this sister
this angry girl.
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 4:30 PM UTC
If you should come upon a painting by Mark Rothko in a museum -
I'll assume you are not one of those billionaires who has one hanging on the dining room wall, or hidden away in a secret room behind the bookcase -
but either way, do not just look at the painting or you will see nothing.
Well, except color. You will see color. Rothko loved color.
But wait a while and you will begin to hear it whisper its secrets:
How lives are layered upon lives;
how painful sacrifices
get buried beneath petty ambitions and lies
and joys and succes as well-
oh, and perhaps another layer or two of color.
Each generation scrapes the parchment clean
and blithely scribes new marks on its surface -
confident that they will not forget the lessons
that seem so absurdly obvious.
Empires disappear beneath overgrown vines
and dieties who, drunk on the blood of virgins
would feast on the hearts of conquered warrors
but now shuffle past each other
with oblivious nods, grousing about the food,
wait for the day someone remembers their names.
Listen and perhaps you will learn
how every layer of life is a forgotten secret
discernable only by its subtle influence
on the layers that are built up above it.
If not. There is always the color. Rothko loved color.
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 3:36 PM UTC
Here , origami flowers , folded willingly
While I touched only pleasure with my mind.
These hands moved under guidance of zen ecstacy
Fingers deftly flip over forms
Directed by shivers of Kali pointing out
My next act with ten thousand hands
this lotus encloses secret airs
That blew a glance turned gaze
from a plurality into a singularity
black body radiation gratifies our dieties
engrams exist in a black hole
all that matters in memory one
overdense point S)P)E)C)I)A)L)
an orb of delusion that i will attempt to
hold with nonattachment and gratitude.
Here, take this fragile piece of paper
time form energy used by me
now it is a flower
For all holidays
And broken promises unmended
take this flower
please accept it
and when you go home
and throw it away
don't tell me
you care
This lily is for that all the mistrust, miscommunication , lies , painful fights.
But you will never know that
I will just give you a flower
next time random time
we meet .
Mar 25, 2010
Mar 25, 2010 at 1:53 AM UTC
Red Red Red Red-of-the-Media Blitz
Annie helps in bulk; it does not matter
The tree is different; But not by the forms
of the same species, onscreen
the same screen of glass and mirrors,
1: Sorry, Alchemy, We have passed out of death
he was on that side, Russia has, of blind beans,
and covered with the mist of death:
A heart full of love; The Spanish spare Clients
Meditation that you have to not only the Lord,
and Diana, 1 year, in Asia; The beach is near the truth
and in a land in which no man, is in the heavens,
Uspensky, This has to change to fulfill
the cavalry, and in the winter, the winter quarters of the fool,
And Paul said: What do you want?
1 gold is old, is already too much.
"Water is death." 1 and seven horses
I saw the copies of the four bright stars,
Then again, not every city ...
1 for help, and thus, do nothing, do not withhold from thee;
1, in the dark, and in the East, and violence;
1 I'm sorry to read and write to the image and follows;
for example, hot drinks, and the two men, one of the product is, however, to be explained in;
The first fall of the equator, Egypt ... and what color gloves in the countryside;
and tomatoes in tomato, which is five minutes of the start of John; Maecenas minutes and was found in Virginia; No price;
Men and women and children of color; they died
The complete carrots
The end does not happen.
In the computer industry equipment, process show
The risk of the sun. Recently in parts; All things to me, Go, and the air, the sea
and the air, the heavens opened,
and the measure of olive oil on the side of the cup
was found to be a golden cup in the negative:
see, now the heat in the water is heated to;
And it starts with her husband John, the arrival of security, this is the dieties ornaments? After a wheelchair today was less than a cruise;
Power and evil, death that said
And his wife, and a towel; and customers
When the clouds of love letters from John
it yielded no fruit will be fixed.
Where the Red lacquered version of the Red; screenshot
The easiest way that a year;
Maecenas especially the nature of the Prophet, and now we know
This is what it should be done;
break, time to call ...
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 5:09 AM UTC
points of dust, moted light,
coded messages,
of indecipherable love,
from the sun and this day's dieties smile.
are....
siphoned through,
the dappled, green eucalypt
to become....
shafts of godly grace,
that tickle, wrinkle
and play hide and seek,
with the contours of your
handsome face,
weekend stubbled
and lax within,
the shadows of sleep's
suburban fringe.
curled up, on your lap
your child, golden, halo haired, head,
asleep.
ear at your heart's designation,
hand anchored,
in the flannel of your shirt,
foot tucked into, your trouser pocket.
a little, love limpet,
attatched firmly, to you.
you, and the littler you lie, serene and unaware,
in the old, striped deck chair.
quiet and together in,
restful, repose.
the remains of lunch...
now just, crumbs and
sticky fodder,
for busy trails of ants
and attracting the lazy bee's of bumble, that hover and hum, above.
and book reading's are open,
unfunished, scattered on the table..... waiting for the
eventual waking...
along with the cat,
perched imperial,
and purring,
on one ant free corner
of the old and faded,
rattan chair.
he stands watch,
dotingly, over,
his dozing clowder....
this is ... the wonder of,
sunday afternoon naptime.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC
Callous handling
of a life's brief
moments --
to say that we
could extinguish
the light in
frightened eyes.
To say that
we had become
gods
in our own right,
with the unnatural
rights
of vengeful dieties.
How did we come
to this?
To take lives
from the natural
order of things.
We reigned supreme
in a world hidden
beyond tangled branches
of a very dark forest ...
the blackest place
within our souls.
No light -- sweet light --
to penetrate the
cold, blank night.
The victim's odd,
blank stare.
Gods we were
exacting painful
penance,
craving delirium's
devotion,
craving death...
Feb 11, 2011
Feb 11, 2011 at 10:53 AM UTC
A brisk gale wind
blows thru my
clanking gears-
thunder shears-
and my riven ears
then hear nothing:
but thru clairaudience
I will ever be a
master of everything
that ravishes the
world beneath your
feet.
The pompous skies
drink up the seas,
to drop thus upon
my eyes in beads;
and as I pen my
muse's advice, the
ink disappears from
the sheets; and watcher
dieties-in the third choir
of the celestial hierarchy-
now have useless wings.
Oh, mold my vernal
features into a candle
effigy— watch them gleam—
then grow so low by high
degrees; and the wax melting by
the heat of flame -to once again
downturn my merry cheeks. So if
you please, masquerade as a blessed
princess -before I am consumed completely-
and I will play both parts of the duelling
princes. One a man, the other a machine.
Go, rendezvous with my doyenne madness!
Indeed the tryst could cause my discarnate
ghost to scarper. I will wrap a cloak around
my Joy and Sadness
—pleased that I might hide my spare character; or at least proclaim thee
dressed a bit sharper.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 7:57 AM UTC
Read the elements
Animal speak
Call the dieties
Alter the energy
Manifest destiny
Align the chakras
Vibrate higher
Heal the healers
Protection rituals
Become habitual
I do no harm
Do none to me
I work for source
To set you free
Of the demons
That grip you
Quite literally
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 3:30 AM UTC
Sun kissed, sea salted
Fine mist condensing on your
white dress
Early morning, cool dip
A resting smile on your
full lips
Water pooling in my hand
Our feet easing into sand
Through my camera's lens
the light bends around you
Flared out it crowns you
with a halo
Glowing angel
I dissipate, contemplate
what I wish to wash away
Shed sorrowed sallowed skin
on the shore of yesterday
Find a new spark! Fire! Ignition!
within us and
relinquish the unwanted ties
that have bound us
so we can begin again
begin again
begin again
I scream with my soul
to the horizon
Make me whole!
Only you can push and pull
my heart strings, the tide within me
You said you're tired of the weight
I said I'm tired of the wait
Forever is now
I'll sing through the night
if it would ease the lonely
frightened space inside you
Let my voice reverberate
off the walls of the hollow
pit you reside in when alone
Too often, I too, find my home
in the quiet isolation
Eyes closed, red glow
Floating fractalled spirals
weaving in and out of my lids
Bouyant, bouncing on the tip
of waves
I'd waste my day
melting drifting spinning sinking
drinking margaritas on the rocks
laying back with a big cigar
My coconut heart split spilling out on
petrified driftwood
You are loved and have
been loved by somebody good
My dieties gather
in the drunken hour
Sunken treasured memories
quell my delusions of grandeur
Reminding me how the smallest moments
linger
I want to kiss you deep
and remember it this time.
Leave out the spinning bottle,
sleep, and wake up refined
Tell you how I love you,
my partner in crime
We are two sides of the same coin
Harmonics in the southern cicadas song
Let's get up and out and on our way
through a city bright and new
before we're back on the road
to the unbecoming home
With new sight and fresh minds
clear conscious and the feeling
of hope and elation
With memories to slow our pulses
acceleration.
In the moments of anxieties
I am here for you
whatever our relation
I see who you are
in the moments of hesitation
I'm pulling in
feeling half past dead
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 9:30 PM UTC
Red Red Red Red-of-the-Media Blitz
Annie helps in bulk; Please note; Differ from tree; However, the form
is an e-mail format, the onscreen color the same color as the glass glasses
1: Our patience, Alchemy; We are translated Dead
It was late, Russia has been and is blind
and gloomy
A heart full of love; Because they are the Customers
Meditation is not only in the Lord
and Diana, 1 have Sun in Asia; Read what is the truth?
and in a land where no one is in heaven
Uspensky, this change is to improve
ideal for winter legs
And Paul has said: | What did you see?
1've got a lot, 1'm sorry.
"Water is death." 1 and seven horses
1 found in exemplary four bright stars;
And, again, not every city ...
1 did not hesitate, and thus what faxed, not rubbed;
1, is in the dark, and in the East and violence;
1'm in my dialect and 1 think it's imaginative and follow:
For example, hot drinks,
and the products formed from the one into two explosive buffers;
The first crash off the equator in Egypt ... and what color gloves in the countryside;
turning tomatoes into tomato, which is a fraction of the start of St. John;
Maecenas' minutes and it was found in Virginia, no cash;
Virus, women and children, death is colored
full of carrots
Fine flavor.
In the computer industry, show the electrical process
They alone. Recently, separately; | All safety in air and sea
open air sky
Monthly Monthly Monthly Monthly Monthly Month
Golden discovered wall
Beware of the hot summer of the water;
And begins with her husband John,
of Facebook security of this Dieties kit? Today, less than the car was in a wheelchair;
Energy and mass, tend to it
And his wife with towel; and consumers
When the ill girl in Busan receives love letters from John, she
can not be strengthened by it or the fruit.
The version of Ruby to the ******* lacquered; screenshot
Easier for a year;
Maecenas, especially of the Prophet, and now we know
What is to be done;
one agreement at a time, so ...
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 5:27 AM UTC
Ok so I look at the world differently
Well i didn't see it until the age of a three
Gun smoke **** tokes tire chirps
Glimpse of slavery excerpt
Still a black still a black
Looking at the scene street hustler
Wearing baggy jeans
We don't see the president in the hood with limousines
Still a black still black
Money posin' my ambition is posin'
With properties finally gotta piece of monopoly
Huh still a black yeah still a black
Now they claim them love blacks
But when we speak onviews that attack
Our neighborhoods they don't want to hear that
Its like placing myself facing a gat from front to back
Yeah they still scared of brutal facts
They say life forblacks started on slaveships
Ha the first ship was name Jesus
Got our minds chipped
Preceded into a courtsmanship
But I broke the relationship
Its funny how everything is a ship
Notice that
Ha still a black still a black
Now we thinking we came far
Cuz we gotta money flexing holding it up next to a car
One thot two thots
Thinking they came up when they about to drop
Y'all can have the props I'll got for the stocks wait stop??
But you still a black still a black
Black history is always a mystery
When it comes to reality in actuality
They worked us to fatality
Muscles detached from the bone
So why they wonder why we gotta reason for insanity you see
Generational curses past down to the next one
Still against the school system cuz it makes us dumb
Still a black still a black
They teach us to hate ourselves ***** hair don't care I'm still a glare
In the midst of dark sun
Energizin my powers soon to devour
Negativty that's tries to showers
Over me lord have mercy on these
Hypocrites talking ****
About me yeah i dont care about money
Cuz it's ficiticious you see financially
We In the matrix why cuz they stay playing tricks
Wake up get out your sentiment
You still a black still a black
I used to be hungry for money but now I'm hungry for knowledge
Never starve my mind out
I carved out my success well I'm still looked to be less (bless)
Inside of a curse worse to worse
You don't think you gotta atone for all them stones ya white ancestors birth
You still a black still a black
Now this ain't start no race war but I know war
When I see it better believe it
Its the trinity dieties speaking to me
Creativity
At it's finest your royal highness
Its funnyhow they don't like blacks
But every culture copies blacks
Hhhhahahaha still a Black still a black
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 12:36 PM UTC
I type with the curtain closed
and dabble between scud really and harsh fantasy
driven by past voices, patriarchal and matriarchal, both,
some more muffled and hidden than others,
I write with the curtains just adjacent to one another, teasing sunlight, sneaking sunlight from the countertop, from the storefront
I wish for my sanity, in solitude I wish to not forget myself, or become lost in wild reflection and lose my footing, or self that my vanity turns me handicapped, or so lost in fantasy that I babble and make no sense,
I'm asking the collective, the dieties, I understand I have willpower over this,
coincidence and chance,
rubber bands snap and rotate, hold hair, too
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 9:24 PM UTC
I want to be like Punk Rock Jesus Christ
and Holy Courtney love in love.
with just a bit less ****
I want to be Kurt Cobain
and you can Be Axl Rose
and we can change eachothers clothes
and play eachothers Roles.
You can be Milton, he wrote Paradise lost
and I can be Satan who was the stories cost
and the story that was told was one of love too.
You can be me, and I can be you.
We can be eachother and our parents too.
We can be history and all of its men
I can be the losing army You can have the win
I will destroy you next time, in the air with a gust of wind
You are my lover baby, and we are so much more than just human
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 2:18 PM UTC
Hands tremble in notice
Cremated they burn
Lung seared moments forgiven
Souls yet wandered
Rise to the ashes to be reborn
Let the stars melt away into graves
The perpetual return
Swept up by chaos
You resent the smokes
Rewinding will be youth
Risen by spokes
The skeletal eyes fixed upon you
Bleating the steps placed
Shattered silence ;the dieties you’ve faced
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 10:57 PM UTC