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Victoria Mar 2014
This view from my window
Its why I moved in

This view from my window
Has kept me in

This view from my window shows a world of hope
This view from my window disables me to cope

This view from my window allows me to stay inside
This view from my window
Allows me to hide

From the ouside world
Im kept safe inside
But it is from my inside that I must hide

Im pushindg and trying to get up and out
From this view from my window
Please let me out

Incapacitated,  rejected, scorned , and deprived
Of what this view from my window has on the other side
Clay Face Mar 2019
Stuck in a straight jacket
That detaches from humanities
That disables civilized thinking
It strangles your insides
And steals compassion
And your breath of life
Withers inside this chasten

In this rubber room
Who’s pads make up your apathetical existence
You rot here like the ***** you take
You die here
Unless you bleed yourself of disrespect
Unless you bleed yourself of disinterest
Unless you bleed yourself of narcissism

Who cares
Your worthless in this state anyway
Find purpose in empathy

Or die here
Exist out of the minds of others
Others who have collective respect
Collective understanding
Collective empathy
And open mindedness

You’re locked here cause you prejudge
Guarded by your own stubbornness
You don’t accept
That you don’t know everyone’s story
You can’t know
You judge anyway

That hippie over there
He’s not a ***** loser
He has a family he loves
Worked hard in construction
And overcame a destructive alcohol and drug abuse
He’s better than you
He’s empathetic
Loving
Understanding
And embraces everyone
Got caught up in my disgusting mind. How ***** I am. Judging people I know nothing about. I hate it. Pathetic.
Angelina Aug 2016
Maybe in another universe are we all free
Maybe in another universe do we have our own will
Maybe in another universe do we tame sin and advocate prosperity
Maybe in another universe do we encourage diversity
Maybe in another universe do we differentiate based on morals and not plain ethnic variety
Maybe in another universe are we in control of our own minds, and bodies
Maybe in another universe do we think for ourselves rather than follow others' paths
Maybe in another universe are we not in denial of invisible surrounded hierarchy
That divides us.
That feeds us.
That maneuvers us.
That disables us.
That obtains us.
And proclaims us theirs.
Maybe in another universe...
lmnsinner Feb 2017
fallow lay in a field, neath soil well over-tilled,
the bones of explanations, excuses, and desperation,
a singular self-destructive but upward thrusted commandment,
compose a poem of revelation,
a poem of destiny and unknown destination

of thee, I write, ashen standing,
with the poker face of a lying son,
before the father confessor mirror,
stand with palms facing outward,
with perfect calm and utter fright

for every nominated error listed below,
when confronted,
hopeless the innocence,
easier now to admit,
with perfect clarity, your innermost
confabulatory familiar friends,
rise to the fire,
first and foremost

belabor not with supposed ratiocinations,
put aside, your ration of
conjured up-for-all, and-all-for-naught excuses,
the prosecutors charges, so thoroughly distinguished,
it disables, speech, vision, all reason extinguished

as the lips and fingers silent move,
the hopeless knowledge of a pardon of 99.9%,
untenable, ransacks,
for what passerby criminal thought
has not resided in your head,
the hearth of who you are?

you,
write of nature, love, celestial notions,
the Etcetera's of life, but to me,
leave the exposure of our uncompressed,
here revealed sinning,
for among those who
unashamedly acknowledge
the intertwining nature of
human failings, and for the balance,
uncap our divine imagery

you write at of those other
nuanced pleasures,
nature, love, celestial notions,
while the sinners wrestle with
the angelic demons of
confrontation and revelation

for your own sake and saving,
do not wrestle with me
for sinners love, welcome
company
For the sin which we have committed before You under duress or willingly.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by hard-heartedness.

For the sin which we have committed before You inadvertently.

And for the sin which we have committed before You with an utterance of the lips.

For the sin which we have committed before You with immorality.

And for the sin which we have committed before You openly or secretly.

For the sin which we have committed before You with knowledge and with deceit.

And for the sin which we have committed before You through speech.

For the sin which we have committed before You by deceiving a fellowman.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by improper thoughts.

For the sin which we have committed before You by a gathering of lewdness.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by verbal [insincere] confession.

For the sin which we have committed before You by disrespect for parents and teachers.

And for the sin which we have committed before You intentionally or unintentionally.

For the sin which we have committed before You by using coercion.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by  desecrating the Divine Name.

For the sin which we have committed before You by impurity of  speech.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by foolish  talk.

For the sin which we have committed before You with the evil  inclination.

And for the sin which we have committed before You knowingly or unknowingly.

For all these, God of pardon, pardon us, forgive us, atone for us.

For the sin which we have committed before You by false denial and lying.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by a bribe-taking or a bribe-giving hand.

For the sin which we have committed before You by scoffing.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by evil talk  [about another].

For the sin which we have committed before You in business  dealings.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by eating  and drinking.

For the sin which we have committed before You by [taking or  giving] interest and by usury.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by a haughty demeanor.

For the sin which we have committed before You by the prattle of our lips.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by a glance of the eye.

For the sin which we have committed before You with proud looks.

And for the sin which we have committed before You with impudence.

For all these, God of pardon, pardon us, forgive us, atone for us.

For the sin which we have committed before You by casting off the yoke [of Heaven].

And for the sin which we have committed before You in passing judgment.

For the sin which we have committed before You by scheming against a fellowman.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by a begrudging eye.

For the sin which we have committed before You by frivolity.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by obduracy.

For the sin which we have committed before You by running to do evil.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by tale-bearing.

For the sin which we have committed before You by swearing in vain.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by causeless hatred.

For the sin which we have committed before You by embezzlement.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by a confused heart.

For all these, God of pardon, pardon us, forgive us, atone for us.

And for the sins for which we are obligated to bring a burnt-offering.

And for the sins for which we are obligated to bring a sin-offering.

And for the sins for which we are obligated to bring a varying offering [according to one's means].

And for the sins for which we are obligated to bring a guilt-offering for a certain or doubtful trespass.

And for the sins for which we incur the penalty of lashing for rebelliousness.

And for the sins for which we incur the penalty of forty lashes.

And for the sins for which we incur the penalty of death by the hand of Heaven.

And for the sins for which we incur the penalty of excision and childlessness.

And for the sins for which we incur the penalty of the four forms of capital punishment executed by the Court: stoning, burning, decapitation and strangulation.

For [transgressing] positive and prohibitory deeds, whether [the prohibitions] can be rectified by a specifically prescribed act or not, those of which we are aware and those of which we are not aware; those of which we are aware, we have already declared them before You and confessed them to You, and those of which we are not aware --- before You they are revealed and known
Goutam Raveri May 2015
As I was a child,
Unlike the normal mass.
I wanted to be the nightingale
The best in class.

A habit I planted,
In the Garden of Eden.
Watered by the grief of my past,
As it grew taller, the fruit sweetened.

I had sinned,
Profited from competition’s demise.
Stole his talent,
Grew in age but not that wise.

What enables, divine
What disables, human.
Got out of luck and empathy,

In apathy, like an ungrateful yeoman.

Couldn't wash the mirror,
Need to wash my face.
Blinded by my addiction of fame,
Embryonic, falling from the summit in rage.

Now I am a pavement artist,
Pride and sin hath a fall.
Living with and like stray,
Failing my life as the nature called.
Jesse Davey Dec 2015
Love is a blazing furnace in ones soul.

I have forged unforgettable emotions and experiences in the fires of such Love.

They are the unshatterable,  tormenting,  over thought feelings you get when you are all alone,  and no one is around watching  you. True Loneliness.

These emotions are the most genuine,  most authentic emotions I've ever felt.  That is what makes these emotions the most terrifying.

Ha,  what a funny thing Loneliness is.
A child of Love, a sibling of Happiness.

You are truly alone when you simply cannot feel.

Anger? Sadness? These are emotions which comfort you,  and drive you in some way.
Ah, but Loneliness is the only emotion in the repertoire of the mind which truly disables.  

Loneliness is the devil of the mind. A disgusting, terrifying, sheer amazing thing to feel.

Disgusting because of the sinister thoughts it conjures  in your sorry mind.

Terrifying because you are paralysed. Unable to escape the thick,  cold, jail cell of your own mind.  In this,  there is no comparable equal.

Amazing because it is truly a fascinating thing that a human being should be subjected to such an incredibly powerful emotion.

Loneliness is the great evil of ones Soul.
Pray that when you meet it,  you're strong enough to endure it's everlasting torture.
Max Jones Feb 2013
hey, god,
can you explain this artificial, chemically grown form of love?
if  this love thing's so wonderful,
why is it assigned like some ******* chore?
some combination of cells grosses from your genitalia
and now you have some new tax deductions and soccer games to see.

is love an emotion?
you endure it and feel it like it's turned your bones into wind chimes?
is love an adjective?
does that soup taste of love? does her hair reek of love?
is love a noun?
can you hold it and touch it? can you sew it to your t-shirt?

is love made in a factory?
a touch of obligation, a handful of selflessness?
is love a seed that's planted?
does it break through the earth and climb towards the sun?
is love a song you write?
do a few measly chords grow into music after time spent strumming your heart strings?

the earth is coated in conditions,
so how does this conditionless concept thrive
in an atmosphere that condemns it?

and why, god, why,
do i appear to be the only one who questions it?
why can't i feel it, understand it, grasp it,
when the rest of the world breathes it like oxygen?

the faithless can mold it,
the faithful live for it.
so what catastrophic flaw is lodged into my brain that disables me to feel it?
to comprehend it?
to accept it?

how can it exist in so many dimensions?
is it like the flu, do you catch it?
is like a piece of art, do you create it?
is it like your mother's crooked nose, do you inherit it?

and how
can a mother look at  her newborn
not knowing its intentions, its personality, its thoughts
and feel sunshine that
is rooted in the bottom of
her soul?
elias Jul 2012
the clamouring noise of our times
hides the holy - disables our noticing
yet there are off-beats of time we can attend

the clamouring noise of our minds
consumes our attention - distracts our soul
yet systolic beats of thought name our noticings

between the memes of our times
are counter balancing sensibilities
to pause our conviction - to open our hearts

between the memes of our minds
are roots of tradition and wisdom
to complete and challenge our understanding

so to extend our fervent hopes to good purpose
so to embrace the silence - and find blessing
credo considers what is - after considering what is not.
this exploration notices that holy silence is discovered not away from noise and memes
but in the counterphase of our beating hearts.
Joe Hill Dec 2013
thumbs **** back black glocs
heat’s on head’s gone
pull it for the crack rock
heaving thick and heavy haze
white and green all mix with red
ticking tendrils round the numbers
seconds are fast after taking life
over grains of time suicide
untouched potential left so
in the wake of pooling blood

tick tock tick tock and time turns the tables
clocks give more gut rot than one-fifty-one
panic over life’s deadlines disables
the mind from seeing anything but guns
and chaos and filth under fate’s tight spun
web of lies keeping eyes fixed on fables
of flies that cannot overpower fate
though they try but have you really tried to
take flight mister fly or have you simply
seen your friends cry and put away your wings
acceptance is the simplest way to die
Jordan May 2014
Synthetic eyes crystalize an unforseeable magic

A deceptively sound mind warps and unbelievable logic

A body willingly disables as victim to an unchained spirit mystic

Hereby deemed 'society's most unfit,' this one is undeservingly crowned 'the lunatic'

Whether it's the brain that's fried or the mind that's been set free

A different viewpoint of the world is someone's whole reality

We all work in mysterious ways nobody else can see

No mind is any less, more incorrect, than that of society
shåi Sep 2015
i am a slave to love
it drags me constantly
never letting me go

it eats my soul
disables me
swallows me whole

calms me.

it is so irresistable
i want to resist
i want to leave
but i want it

i am its freak
lock me in its box
tell me you love me
for i am dreadfully lost
(b.d.s.)
Sweet pliability of a woman’s spirit
That can surrender itself to its own illusions
Somehow to cheat sorrow of their weariest moments.
Had I not trod upon such enchanted ground
I would have not known the smooth velvet path
Fancied by those rose-budded petals of delight.

When the evils of the world wear sores upon me
And there seems to be no retreat from them –
I take upon me 'your' course and leave this world
Of fit and anger and find that it is only with 'you'
That I have a clearer view of the Elysian Fields
Upon which your womanly heart depends.

I see those evils wave their ugly heads in defeat
Even unto their own thoughts as you cast out the shadows.
I lose myself in you all those ill wills finding
That it is only your affections worth living for.
Surely this is not walking in a vain shadow
Nor do I do injustice to you by walking with you.

A man walks in any direction because he claims to
Walk with the issue of his commotions – for no good reason.
But in woman, at times, she walks in the direction of her
Heart as she conquers any single bad sensation of
That heart as decisively as that of reason - often sorely
Defeated before there is a fight to be fought.

They say that a woman thinks more with the left side
Of her brain while a man thinks mostly with the right.
The journey between right and left is but a few centimeters.
That distance between those quadrants can at times seem
Light years apart as if the universe is turned topsy-turvy.
Neither is more intelligent than the other, or so they say but

Science also says

Men tend to do better with tasks requiring more localized processing
Such as mathematics which is attributed to the white matter of the brain.
Women are better at integrating and assimilating information from the
Distributed gray-matter regions of the brain, which aids
In language and communication skills.
This is a generalization and is not true of all men and women.

So how is a man to ever understand a woman or a
Woman ever to be able to understand a man?
I can only attest to my own case.
If a man subscribes himself upon such an injury
That he incapacitates that masculine routing of reason
Then his mind is forced to regenerate itself creating different
Avenues of his ability to be human.

If by accident or injury he somehow disables some of the
White matter of his brain then over time the gray matter
Takes over what the white matter no longer can perform.
In essence there isn’t a left and a right anymore.
When that happens a man is open to communication
In an entirely new and different way.

What once was a bullheaded ***** thinking mainly with
Parts of himself that were more important to him than anyone else,
Now he is forced to see both sides of every issue.
Words are not the same, music isn’t the same and
Neither is anything else, not even a single breath.
So whenever you read something from one of these mutant men –

Remember what has happened to get this one to that place.

And remember always, hope shortens all journeys
By sweetening them, so sing my little stanzas
As I sing them – as with the devotion of a hymn.
If you do this every morning you will arise
And eat your breakfast with more comfort for it.
Make no mistake of it – I am a man in every way
That a man can be a man.

It’s just according to science that
I think more like a woman.
For better or worse and
Whether anyone likes it or not.
Personally I think I'm somewhere in between.
Play on the difference between the sexes
SassyJ Jul 2016
A laughter is just a flight of a moment
made of straws that wither and burn
On the summer it glows and shows
In the winter it faints and hides
awaiting the cycle of redemption

Happiness is forever, a fulfilment
the contextual locked in filaments
When the sun strokes it matches
In the coldness it dances proud
It is ever present and sustaining

Sorrow is a transient melancholy
A thunder strike that disables all
In the warmth of the day it cries
It unfolds like a starving toddler
A disabling concept that lives and dies

Loneliness is a key to happiness
A journey of self awareness and love
It taunts like a recurrent cancer
It screams until lessons are echoed
with infinite possibilities locked to self
WendyStarry Eyes Mar 2016
Lightening striking
My temples bulge
I am not liking
Natures hold
Another stressful day ahead
Surging so strong
Perhaps, I should spend this day in bed
Or until my life is gone
Thunder crashing right on through
Reminding me of His power
Circumstances in the past He has enabled me to do
How dare I cower!
I must trudge through
Get up and strive
Conquer all that disables
Become alive!!
It is now a new Day
The sun will shine when it rises
The day is ahead of the light
Say it is today now
Even with No Sunlight

Today started without it
Strongly enough
The birds seem to start there day
Just a bit before the sun rise
About 4AM

Surely there are people without electricity
Their day goes from can to can't
See

Photons Take 70,000 years to reach
The Surface of the Sun
From it's Molten Core
Then 8 Hours from there to lend light to day

There must be a reason for night and day
Life and death
Or
Is this serendipity
I doubt that all we know as existence and consciousness
Is not supposed to be it is.

Jesus said to the Disables
When they wanted to know what [ was] the buzz] ('Andrew Loud Weber, and Tim Race "Jesus Christ Superstar')
Jesus said  "why think about bout tomorrow
Today is at hand"

Why complicate things.
There are two periods od darkness in each day according to the clock Darkness Daylight is sandwiched between them.
Mystic904 Sep 2017
Do you really think you're never gonna die
The day shall come, you'll know this was all a lie
'Tis, a four day journey
Two days of desire, two days of pie

No one knows what's gonna happen in the grave,
Once the man's put, nothing wakes up the dark eye
The punishment he pays for, is not seen but felt
The wealth he gave his life for, is nowhere at sight

His life was just the same as of a potato blight,
When he was asked to look at the beneficial light
But he didn't bat an eye at the given advice
Nor did he take a look at his hair full of lice

Everyday he would eat a full plate rice,
Still no sign of thankfulness, despite
Was he deaf, or was he blind
Even the disables are not as lost as he was at night

The whole story seemed like a joke to him,
But sorry, it's too late to make everything right (while being placed in the coffin)
Anyways it's too late to write,
Let me have an apple to bite
g clair Sep 2013
"Skuff marks" he says
with disgust in his voice
and he looks at my shoes
and says, "Garbage."

We both knew from before
what they'd do to his floor
but I wore them
in spite of the carnage.

They went with the look
I snuck into my nook
and plastered the heels with
green lables.

"Advance Directives" now
"Floor Protectives"
the scuffle and stuff
it disables.

I don't advertise
my messes or lies
they just find themselves out
and what's more...
I simply rely on
the passing of time
now it's green from my heels
on the floor.
Chris D Aechtner Apr 2022
(snottah poem)

In full disclosure that the following expressions are based on conjecture, I want to add my own COVID-19 mythology into the mix.

I will use method acting to become immersed in a mythological character who has the desire to thwart the Moderna & Pfizer COVID-19 mRNA SGT intramuscular injections with a multi-drug-resistant & COVID-19 mRNA genetic therapeutic-resistant SCoV2 variation that people label erroneously, as: Omicron.

Not only do I—the mythological character—desire to thwart the Moderna & Pfizer COVID-19 mRNA SGT intramuscular injections, I want to protect the "unvaccinated".
Within that hypothetical, mythological scenario, I know that the COVID-19 mRNA SGT intramuscular injections can cause specific types of immune white blood cells to become transfected & die, & that COVID-19 mRNA injected hosts shed extremely harmful, artificially-elicited SCoV2 Alpha B.1.1.7 variation S glycoproteins that can harm the "unvaccinated". The "unvaccinated" already have enough to deal with, as is, especially as many of the "vaccinated" seem to become more socially tyrannical towards the "unvaccinated"—& in general—with each new "booster" received.

Aside from causing "Omicron" to become multi-drug-resistant, & COVID-19 mRNA genetic therapeutic-resistant, in my interest to protect the "unvaccinated" from the more potentially dire effects of "Omicron" infection, one of my main points of interest with "Omicron" is to edit a non-linear sublineage "Omicron" variation progenitor in a way that disables its ability to infect immune white blood cells via their LFA-1 receptors in order that "Omicron" infection doesn't cause a form of AIDS in the "unvaccinated". The mythological character, that is I, desires for some **** sapiens to survive the Transhumanist COVID-19 Great Reset agenda with as much of their original DNA intact as possible.
Another main point of interest of mine is to design "Omicron" to be extremely transmissable.

After having successfully designed my Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley-inspired Frankenstein's Chimera, "Omicron" doesn't leak from my laboratory settings. No! I spread the sizzling-hot, gorgeous Promethean Flame. Lab leaks are for the reckless without a good cause.

Upon hearing that my arch nemesis, Herr Doktor Fauci, whom I've loathed since 1994, will be participating in a fake-science awards ceremony in South Africa in the near future, I get an accomplice to fly me to South Africa in his private jet.
During the flight, I lovingly caress the portable cooling box situated beside me, in which is stored my greatest design—the checkmate that will help topple the abomination: The One-Eyed Technocratic Tower of Moderna & Pfizer COVID-19 Synthetic mRNA Genetic Therapeutic.

After landing in South Africa, I arrive at the outdoor fake-science awards ceremony with 1 minute to spare before it commences. I stand at the back of the crowd that surrounds the open-air dias upon which stands my arch nemesis with a gloating, malignant smile on his face.
While focused on Herr Doktor Fauci's rat-like face, I release my beloved creation, with a blown kiss, onto the swirling warm air of South Africa.

The atmosphere works divinely for the release of "Omicron" in South Africa. When news of my creation's arrival breaks, a main group of the world's population leans towards theories, hypotheses, & narratives of "host variant spin-off", & another main group leans towards theories, hypotheses, & narratives of lab leak, as the particular area of South Africa in question is sprinkled with biolabs that are involved in coronavirus research. Perfect.

Another variable leads many people away from the Least Trodden Path that meanders between the extremes of science & religion:
There are known "Omicron" variations in North America that pre-date my greatest design.

Via the use of my accomplice's private jet, I spread "Omicron BA.1" (that I dubbed, as: Omegatron 7.2) throughout the continents. I begin to spread some misinformation & disinformation on social media, such as,
"The Omicron variant is a hoax, a mythological cover (which it often is) for the adverse effects & events that are caused from the COVID-19 mRNA SGT intramuscular injections."

I don't own a white hat. I'm a red magician.
March 29, 2022
Dondaycee Jun 2018
Aboriginal Daytime
I never understood labels… fear as well,
It all appeared as fables and if it were true I’d choose hell,
…******, why do we fall victim to a linear language?
See, look, you already; -******; Kyi!,
“yessir”
It’s your turn to spell,
“Day is frustrated because of the word fables,
Because of how you conceive it, based off labels,
You take it as a “fictitious tale”,
Fictitious meaning imaginary, fabricated, or not real,
Most people are insecure, they have fear,
If earth is heaven, then this is hell,
Because he knows truth,
He’d rather experience pain than have the wisdom from terms like impossible or fail”
Kyi you’re always creating ignorance, give them validation,
“Day… did you forget that “we” experienced a graduation?
That’s rhetorical though… just a little medication,
Day finds it necessary that we turn our attention back towards the word fable,
Understand that; he doesn’t understand labels,
So when he used the word fable, his intentions were stable,
But humans think linear, from past to present, so his perspective was inable,
He meant; a short story with animals as characters conveying a moral-“
-We are victims who enabled ourselves to disable our ability to enable,
Who enabled our self; to give an authority to ourselves, one that disables; to turn off our ability to enable; to be aware of choice?
If we can’t see, we can’t look ahead,
Therefore the paradox is voice,
Because it’s an illusion,
The illusion of expressing your choice,
Because truth is, you already have,
You just couldn’t see the difference because of labels,
That same difference; existed in fables,
I had to reiterate it because I’m constantly crucified,
I’m misunderstood because I validate reasons to consciously unify,
I wonder if this is what it was like to live when you know who had died,
Because I took a reach and lost a hand like I had to choose a side,
I tried to teach and lost a friend,
Like why couldn’t she be a Bonnie, I would’ve taken a shot; if she cried; and if I died; I’d come back as Clyde hoping she remained divine, because it’s a crime to love when you choose a side; you lose a side,
I fought health, she fought self, I’m talking wealth without suicide,
She became wise and intelligent,
She is light and evidence of what potential is when you abide by it,
I remembered happiness and relevance,
Ignorance and arrogance but I became narcissistic when you arrived; miss…
Missed, you will be,
If, it is Yoda I’m speaking,
Double meaning if its solitude you are seeking,
Because them shots I took earlier backfired, now I’m obviously bleeding,
Looking for air, must repair time; I’m focused; perceiving,
Somehow I went from having a home to habits alone,
The death of me is with the best of me, because the rest of me couldn’t address what’s left of me,
Context clues, it wasn’t safe when eye left; contact in alone,
If I stayed in the past my last laugh would’ve came right after my last,
I had grew, I embraced a new path, I was contacted alone,
Because nobody called, nobody talked,
I was sitting in silence,
Then came Gaia,
She said “acid”, I said “that’s it?”, and every since Ye my existence has been timeless,
I  no longer have white fever,
**** was moving to fast,
My nose was caught up in a white girl and I couldn’t even keep her ***,
I tried to keep her balanced but still she turned green,
Truth is lie and lie is truth, if you couldn’t understand I would’ve defined the mean,
How do you live, is it yin or yang?
With the love or with the fear or are they both the same thing?
Are the polarities chaotic? Are you feeling demotic?
Are you hearing the otic and making it hip?
Are you in this illusion; a state of confusion, because the options you’re choosing ain’t me,
Because the green on the paper, is making me think I hate her, because the ***** that saved us ain’t he,
Females… they want the mind,
But men belong to time,
Both will deny this is true,
Males… Material Mind,
Girl friend’s in a line wanting to take the focus of the fact that life is just you,
She was just used,
He couldn’t choose,
She was confused,
And he was abused,
We decided to live, but she was backwards,
I’m only evil cause I draw back,
Dyslexic lid, she’s was bad words,
There’s a cut off in the dab sword,
Hell low like I’m exiting to enter,
High like I’m existing in picture,
I hope she stay hot, and continue to rise,
It’s a cold world, sinking is wise,
I hope she experience the storms that’ll give her supplies,
I hope she **** me before I ever give Advice Versa,
It’s Aboriginal Daytime; twin flame gon issing as Vice Versa,
****… I wish I heard her.
I. Entrance
Rough and soft
I clear a space
Foot by foot
Your soft embrace

Quickly pulling
Yet gently easing
Giving me strength
Willingly teasing

I look around
And see a mess
But closing my eyes
Relieves this stress

Being adaptable
Disables structure
Being passive
Encourages lovers

To embrace this gentle layer
And children too, without a care
But beware! This passive part
Can become sharp when sunshine starts

It's so simple, yet so advanced
Far from the surface, without big plans
This is the entrance, this is the mask
To penetrate is often a simple task

They're here then gone when it is sunny,
Sand ridden showers or merchants and money,
There's some green life, some little creatures,
But beyond these, there are not many features.

People naturally want much more
People dig into the core
And so it goes! Goodbye, layer 1,
You weigh us down, but we must run.

II. Treasures
Course and dark,
Here lies the treasure!
Here are the products
Of life's endeavors.

The wrath of under
Crushes prizes
That sharpen up
And feed us dryness

This part by far is most extensive
And also, naturally, most defensive.
All our life's work, and it's for this
But there are more than a few twists.

When three and four are full of hearty
Lucky people who reside, hardly
The leftovers are in this lot
And deduce gain from this, we do not.

We truly don't want all these treasures
Fine expenses who're torn and weathered
A mix of one and three and rocks,
There's no substance but legs of docks.

More often piers, that need foundation.
Much like layer one, this is a station
When all folks must pass through
Before truly entering you.

We detect your gritty sincerity
And thank you for your biological charity
Creatures live here, but not us!
We long for the danger of trust.

III. Wetness
So calming
So very cool.
In this zone,
Smoothness rules.

It looks so flat,
It looks at ease.
Not adaptable,
But not quite free.

Some stop in two,
They are so patient.
They long for peace and isolation
From what lies beneath the layers.
The life of four does not live there.

But now in three! We start to wet.
The closeness reveals the danger.
We sink our heels and scan around.
Ocean, you're no longer a stranger.

At your crest is so much fun!
This is where we play some games.
From here, we may be rarely stricken.
But from this far, we know you're tame.

From this far, we get what we need.
We get a drop of what we live for.
We might love you, we might keep you.
Or we might begin to need more.

Setting up camp here is easy to do.
Some do it for all their lives.
If we never dive deep, however,
What lies beneath is left to derive.

Sometimes, when you're feeling most high,
You push yourself and greet us nicely.
But hidden away, when low and wise,
You make layer 3 more empty.

Either way, with some pushing,
We know we may come forth.
Here's where adventure lives,
And where journies may start their course.

IV. Drown
One was gentle,
Two was borning,
Three was an
Excellent warm up.

Show me power.
Show me strength.
Give to us
All of your love.

I dive deep, a little submergence.
I feel lighter. I feel free.
There's a struggle,
I can't change you,
But it is just you and me.

Being inside you,
Feeling so locked up,
You're all I can think about.
The more I get to know and love you,
The harder it is to get out.

My eyes tell me you offer much.
Infinite substance to find.
I am overwhelmed by your touch.
Yet all is true and none are lies.

Sometimes your embrace is so gentle,
But you can take me off my feet!
I try to anticipate every movement,
But you're so brutal and so sweet.

Yet here I am! Yet I have entered,
And I could not be more pleased.
You off danger, offer stimulation,
Lifting me off my shaking knees

The young and restless, they might think
Themselves invincible and strike.
Love these fools and please protect them,
Allow them to escape your strife.

Your addiciting terrors!
Your auditory illusions!
Your shallow entrance
That turns so deep!

You've lived so long,
You know our movements,
Calm down
And let us sleep.

Although we think you of no mind,
Your variation and beauty overpower
Disillusions of any kind,
You're offering at every hour.

And hours fly by when tangled in you,
You offer frequent wild rides,
I'd say we trust you, I'd be your friend,
But both of those would be just lies.

Savage! Heathen! Brutal trickster!
We're tumbling when you can't rest.
Layers one through three come from you, four.
Your infinite lovable aquatic stress.

When we leave you, you stay with us.
In the forms of rock, water, then memory.
One of nature's most complex metaphors,
You have taught us how to be.


.
A cool beach poem I thought of.
Star BG Mar 2018
ARE YOU,
waisting your headspace
with chatter that disables
and vibrations of negative thoughts.

BEEN THERE. DONE THAT.

Are you drained from the constant old story
of judgements, fears, and doubts.

BEEN THERE. DONE THAT.

NOW, I fill headspace of a sacred vessel
with positive thoughts that align self with love.

NOW, I fill my temple with light
in breath to move orchestrating change
for the good of Humanity.

NOW, I am in gratitude to life
as I move knowing things are unfolding
inside divine timing.

ARE YOU,
ready to stand in your power
as an authentic human
capable of living out your dreams?

I am and take the reins
to stand awake, and alive connected
to the vibration of love.

ARE YOU READY?
The thing we poets have all been at before.
The thing that takes our creativity and throws It out the window.
The thing that disables us from saying what we truly mean.
Yet we always find a way.
I’ve been on writer’s block lately, so I got the idea to write a poem about
writer’s block, we all have been there before so I figured it would be a easy poem
to connect to, And as always, Don’t forget to tell me what you think!
Malak S May 2018
A never ending well
You fall
And you fall and fall and fall,
Yet you never plummet

It’s sad and terrifying, yet reassuring,
All at the same time.
Some may attack this part of me, calling it an illness, and at times where my fear strikes and I begin to feel the fingers of everyone I love, detach, I see it as such - an illness - too.

Overthinking has, in some way, crippled my ability to just be,
To live in the moment.
Some nights, it is my only companion, tucking me into bed, playing with my hair, letting me know I’m not alone, never, not entirely.

Sometimes, when the world aims its’ horrendous acts of violence, like heartbreak and disappointment,
Overthinking wraps it’s arms around my stomach and disables me from thinking straight and in some ****** up way, it might be asking me to stop, turn back, and walk the furthest away from them as possible.
In some ****** up way, it’s helping me see things clearly
But I never listen.
I don’t think it works that way for me.
No matter how many warning signs, red flags appear in front of me,
Sometimes all I want to do is wither the storm and hope I come out of it alive.
Maybe in some ****** up way, I believe this would make me stronger, even though that has caused me to break into even smaller pieces than imaginable.
This doesn’t entirely capture ‘overthinking’ or its obscene excessiveness, but it’s a start
Brandon Davis Mar 2015
You've been the only one to make me smile in some years
Though you've differentiated from those other females
You put something inside me
But a question mark remained there for a while
Was it care? Love? Or maybe sympathy for my past?
Long after, that question mark had vanished and I figured it out
Sympathy didn't fit into the category
Our long walks, hour talks, and etc resembled care
But that last one was still a mystery
I didn't know what that last one was
Physically or emotionally
Sure, people say it all the time to me
But it mentally disables me when asked about someone else
Maybe because of my disheartening past that cripples me and doesn't allow me to use that word
That I don't know what it is
But you've put something special inside of me
It makes me think of you randomly
It makes me want to be with you all the time
It makes me feel attached to you
Like you emotionally belong to me
When then I've suddenly realized what you put in me
When I'm around you, I get this warming feeling inside which brings out my smile
It was simply amazing
What you put in me makes me feel like I understand what my mind has been blocking me from
What you put in me was love
Glenn Currier May 2023
Countless songs sing your might
and your brawny romance with us.
The kiss, the sigh I return in moonlight
seems so weak.
But that is my puny judgement,
for when I am in the clutches of love
when I allow its vast waves to overtake me
I can get up from my sleepy lazy state
and stretch my muscle and bone,
walk toward your pain or joy with a stride and demeanor
no masculine actor could ever emulate.

Yet you are the mortar full of feeling
the octane of which clamors a symphony of sound
I cannot even hear
but feel it in my chest and biceps and thighs.
Your sadness clouds the stars
your joy makes them beam
your anger burns bright and hot in them.

So how can I hurt you?
Above all, by my indifference
when I break free and flee your embrace
when I strike you in the face
and punch you in the gut
with my pride, lust
and magnitudes of madness
my shame brings tears to my eyes.
It is not a shame that disables me
but awakens me to my limits.

How you must fear my freedom
because of what I have done,
what I do with it in my life?
How lonely you must feel when I abandon you
in favor of pleasure or hubris!

If you are invincible and lord of the cosmos
how would you make yourself so powerless
and vulnerable to emotions?
Because you sparked the creation
of my species and my planet
and even became human
to show us the profusion of love,
sensations and sentiments possible.

Including hurt.
Melissa Rose Apr 2019
seeping like red wine staining a white blouse
it implodes into each delicate fibre
exposing the loose threading
of its unsuspecting host

It is underestimated
like trickles of muddy water
filling superficial cracks
seconds before the flood

interwoven become the strands
of hatred and harmony
as sorrow unearths the hardened soil
around those densely habitual roots

emerging from its confines
it spreads the contagion of loss
disables the cure for love
unleashing the inevitability of suffering
4/8/19
Astrid Jun 2019
Wane is a shawl, i've stripped off
From the virulent heat.
Vain i've milled and crumbled
And poured into junket you'll eat.
Feast is a bait.
(I'm desirefully sanctite)
Feast is a bait–
Raged adverse hands
Gripped your neck ın lust of  suffocation

Polished mirror–
Nearby, just the wall divides
Bleak downswinging "nation"
Scrabing and crawling your hedge.
With malicious "regards",
Prominent vein,
Incinirate to ashes...by a cressels.
They are labourers
Who manure your ****** plains.
Polished mirror–
Bleeding river
Where your reflection is sublime
But decreasing, due to drought
(And dignity's profaned...)

Conscience dejects and impens,
Disables foul-souls to feast.
Dissapears in sudden–
Purified and peeled.
Cravings and ruinous temptations are rules,
Untill it's pestilent and boresome
And you beg for its rooting back
And returning.

Feast is a bait.
Admires hypocritical:
Human trade,
Quench of "Mature duration"
Truth gyrates from ear to ear– abruption.
Thats's how nobility cracks as a high-grade crystal,
But decayed grade.
Feast is a bait–
Raged adverse hands
Gripped your neck – one second to  suffocation.
Understandable... the sensible
(three ringed circuitous) logic
to trumpet necessity
each individual moost heed
bedecking, cloaking donning,
ludicrous interloper ****** covering,
(I prefer sporting
latest custom made
invisible máscaras faciales),
when commingling amidst madding crowd,

nevertheless coronavirus (COVID-19)
makes laughingstock kickstarting
maniacal paranoid testing yapping
authoritarians blabber ceaselessly
bleak household pandemic
plagues (sear ring)
robust human specimen,
hence yours truly,
a feckless (gibbon) primate
breathes sigh of relief,

why? cuz he counts himself insignificant
absolute zero worth
versus microscopic prickly orb
aging long haired pencil neck geek
best beat hasty retreat
to his man cave
not necessarily avoiding microbial denizen,
yet any potential suffering
scouting out troubadour woefully
jackknifed inept hideaway

availed no choice
rolls out Harris tweed Scottish matt
courtesy minuscule germ man
greeting me with gotcha!,
I willingly surrender
the only thing at stake iz my life,
which would immediately
ebb fate (mine),
automatically buzzfeed chap
offer no chance
for symbiotic relationship

as pathogens indeed choreograph
(***** deed done dirt cheap)
loft hilly doth waft
through cellular skeins comprising
garden variety/ generic gent
herewith essentially crafting
his poetic epitaph
before onset disables,
disallows, and disvalues
one humble, intelligent, jesting

kindhearted, literate, modest
nincompoop aimlessly adrift
within Brownian movement
(**** sapiens random motions
viewed miles skyhigh)
ostentatious, piteous, querulous,
ridiculous, superfluous, et cetera,
thus forward donations
and/or pledge
(I promise you -

swear to dog
portion of me ashes)
to favorite charity
and will hoop to visit thee as repurposed
noun, verb, adjective, adverb, pronoun,
preposition, conjunction, interjection,
numeral, article, or determiner...
Harriet Shea Apr 2019
World of sensitivity becomes deep with
the concern, no answers for reasons of feeling
confused, our balance misplaced, our
minds, souls, have no light to shine
a promise from within.

Something has disappeared without our
knowing, feeling of awareness darken
with despair, a missing link disables
truth to pour from souls of light, and
harmony to spread integrity throughout
the world with love.

Misunderstanding pushes us in a blue-green
spire, rotating without our knowledge, a
the silence of sound, balancing our vibrations
high enough, to collect substance in our mind's
eye, that may have been a quick beam of light
in our past imagination.

Purple pink hues mix together, pass in a
pleasurable sensation of delight, locked
together, like in a picture, framed behind
glass.
Sensitivity flows through, submerged deeply
in a new dimensional atmosphere filled with
misty explanations, of our birth into the
A universe, our light that was meant to create
a world of love, peace, harmony restoring
balance in- between all dimensional illusions.

We create our own little worlds, within our own
little self, hoping we can find love like our
A universe, bright with purified magical
mysterious wonders, deep with love, bringing
forth understanding and wisdom.




By Derena
© 2019 Derena (All rights reserved)
Flatfielder Mar 2018
Fear

Shyness
My torment
My mind disables my speech
I am not who I am

Hot flashes red ears
The sign of submission
To confusion
To signals
I didnt mean to transmit

I lose eye contact
I stumble
I say what i dont mean

Yet in writing
I feel connect
So much i cant stop
Ideas are clear
Am on the top

Still do turn away
Still searching for balance
Some stability at best

Now if I could shake the fear
How would my life be then

I always question
Harriet Shea Oct 2018
World of sensitivity becomes deep with
concern, no answers for reasons of feeling
confused, our balance misplaced, our
minds, souls, have no light to shine
promise from within..
Something has disappeared without our
knowing, feeling of awareness darken
with despair, a missing link disables
truth to pour from souls of light, and
harmony to spread integrity throughout
the world with love.
Misunderstanding pushes us in a blue-green
spire, rotating without our knowledge, a
silence of sound, balancing our vibrations
high enough, to collect substance in our mind's
eye, that may of been a quick beam of light
in our past imagination.
Purple pink hues mix together, pass in a
pleasurable sensation of delight, locked
together, like in a picture, framed behind
glass.
Sensitivity flows through , submerged deeply
in a new dimensional atmosphere filled with
misty explanations, of our birth into the
Universe, our light that was meant to create
a world of love, peace, harmony restoring
balance in- between all dimensional illusions.

We create our own little worlds, within our own
little self, hoping we can find love like our
Universe, bright with purified magical
mysterious wonders, deep with love, bringing
forth understanding and wisdom.


By Derena
© 2018 Derena (All rights reserved)

— The End —