"dispelling" poems
Fabricated.
Fictitious.
A fake floating feeling
Falls short
Of my fleeting fantasy.
This insidious infirmity
Isn't what I intended.
I've been inflicted
With internal indisposition.
In need of an ideal identity.
Who am I without
This ****** to make me whole?
How do I heave my heart
Away from this hole?
Have you seen how hard this is?
But it's been short of a year,
Of believing I can simply be.
And before I break
Bleed me of my bane.
And for me, bear no malice.
Tightly take me
Away from my terible tempest.
Time tells me it's time to stop.
Too long I've tortured my tenemet.
Tame the tantrum tearing through me.
Sober seems strong,
But it's systematic survival.
Stopping the surrender
To something stimulating.
Learning to stand sedated.
No I'm no longer numb.
No longer neglecting my need
For new novcane.
Knowing I'll never need
This vaccine again.
You are all my ambition.
Dispelling my ailments
And afflictions.
I am hard to adore, I know.
You are my new addiction.
You have me dreaming,
Praying we are real.
Made me feel.
Don't decieve my brittle belief.
Keep me, don't leave.
I'm not the kind to fly.
For you i'd try to dive.
Unafraid I might die.
I don't hide from the night.
This is what I've been trying to find.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
O Krishna, Lord of Hindustan, I sorrowed by the lonely Jumna river bank, where Thy flute-notes thrilled the air and led the lost calves to their homes. O Lotus of Love, musing on the sad absence of Thy delusion-dispelling eyes, I saw Thine invisible Spirit take form, frozen by my devotion's frost.
Thy divine form of sky-blue rays, with feet of eternity, walked on the banks of my mind, planting lasting footprints of realization there. I am one of Thy lost calves which followed Thy flower-footprints on the shoals of time. Listening to the melody of Thy flute of wisdom, I am following the middle path of calm activity, by which Thou hast led many through the portals of the dark past into the light.
Since all of us are of Thy fold, whether moving, sidetracked, or held stationary by the fogs of disbelief, O Divine Christ-na, lead us back to Thy fold of everlasting freedom. O Krishna, Thou reignest on the heart-throne of each knower of Thy love.
From: Whispers from Eternity
A Book of Answered Prayers
1949 Edition
7.4k
This poem is a toast to our love, to pure love.
Let peace, purity & contentment prevail
everywhere evenly dispelling hatred.
There's a hint of you,
In everything I do...!
There's a hint of you,
In everything I do...!
Whether it's writing poems,
Whether it's riding horses,
Whether it's reading books,
Or it's roaming nooks...
There's a hint of you,
In everything I do...!
There's a hint of you,
In everything I do...!
Whether it's blooming flowers,
Whether it's raining droplets,
Whether it's crooning lullabies,
Or it's draining tensions...
There's a hint of you,
In everything I do...!
There's a hint of you,
In everything I do...!
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 9:29 AM UTC
A lone wolf;
Solitary soldier.
Too comfortable you have become
stumbling down a path
for one.
Blinded by
eyes closed
to the world that truly lays
beyond
your chosen screen
of wool
woven, cross-stitched with
Denial.
Hands you refuse to hold
as you boldly
trek
down the dusty trail;
howling out silently
so no one may hear.
Sporting a
mask
made
of self-loathing
and fear,
vulnerability the
enemy you choose to slay,
for surrendering to
a state of
naked, raw
passion
seems more frightening
than the darkest dungeon,
stormiest night.
Gulping down
another shot
of loneliness on the rocks,
not even a splash
of soda,
for you like the way it burns.
Inhale solidarity,
snorting your
line
after
line
of
self-destruction,
acidic dispelling of
feelings
chosen not to be felt.
Sometimes, though,
in the quietest of the night,
sitting on the lip of a deep
substance-induced-slumber,
you may whisper
in a tone you would hate
to be called sweet,
and the mask comes off;
till 2 PM,
waking and at it again,
alone, a lone wolf
howls
at emotional
sobriety
and takes another
drink.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC
Never feel alone, my friend -
dormancy is also transient,
same as your winter depression...
Only yesterday I heard a flock of geese
overhead in the twilight
announce their return
while a heedless scampering squirrel
repeatedly circuited the trunk of an oak.
The Pervasion is always complete;
embrace it in your awareness
as the Sun's virility will soon
embrace the fields and countryside.
Regrouping the sacred elements
through delicate processes,
rugged mating rituals,
and rebirth -
Forming a symmetry
of vital love incarnate
dispelling all loneliness.
-fr
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 8:05 AM UTC
there are no limits
on speed,
no bumps to impede
that singular rush of inspiration,
that surging wave we ride
to euphoric highs
defying doubt and disbelief
within and throughout
these paths least-travelled
where rhythmic beats
of compulsion
thrill the air
way beyond the mean,
and we glide
over ambiguous bell
curves
dispelling conspicuous myths
and null hypotheses
with relative ease
where iambic warriors
and wordsmiths,
high on lyrical amphetamines,
wage epic battles
of verse and rhyme
and the blood of creativity
is spilled onto
finite scrolls and screens
where the thoughts and dreams
of poets, peasants and pimps
reign
eternal
~ P ( Pablo)
(8/2/2013)
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
A cool December morning!
Today I rose much earlier than usual
I watch the night stealing away
Like an accused convict under cover
Sunlight peeks through the leaves.
In the haze of overhanging mist,
Only the blurred silhouette of trees in sight
The crows have begun their raucous call
The leaves of grass are misted with dew
A cool zephyr blows from the south
Clouds float like shredded cotton
Even Sirius, the brightest star has paled
Life is slowly beginning to unfold
And men like shadows have begun to move
The sun has now climbed to the Eastern hills
In scintillating glory like a mighty king
Shattering the mist with his lance like beams
He exults like a victorious warrior
His crystal rays rouse the sleeping birds
And they begin their chorus in wondrous rhyme
I enjoy the sweetness of this lovely morn
In serene silence, I stand and watch
The light that slowly fills the Earth,
Dispelling all trace of overhanging darkness!
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 7:28 AM UTC
These days,
I find myself reaching out.
Reaching out for love,
Reaching out for 'like'.
Reaching out for anything
That can make me feel whole.
Reaching out for
the feel of hands that caress;
creating hope,
dispelling hopelessness.
...If only for a while.
Excuse me,
Mister Optimist.
I prefer not to be called
A pessimist.
Because a realist
Realizes
His situation.
And mine is always
Very grim.
So how am I a pessimist,
For learning from the past
Of this..?
May 16, 2010
May 16, 2010 at 3:18 PM UTC
Is humanism Utopian?
You really have to think about it.
Or is it rather more dystopian?
No, then I think you’d never doubt it.
It seems that disbelief is best.
Humanism owes a debt
to thinkers of the Enlightenment,
although I haven’t paid it yet,
I think of it as my entitlement
to settle it at some behest.
I very early cleared my mind of Kant,
experiencing a vast relief,
approaching his chef d’oeuvres extant;
removing knowledge to allow belief;
the opposite of what he had expressed.
It occurred to me I ought to dig up
(or should I say instead ex-hume?)
what constitutes at least an egg-cup-
full of wisdom that I might consume
with non-platonic zest.
But wondering how on earth to do so
and thinking he might hold the key,
I fixed my sights on Jean Jacques Rousseau
and set sail for my destiny,
while trying not to feel depressed.
Voltaire’s voices loudly rang in deaf ears
as did the Persian Letters of Montesquieu
and failed to still my latent fears.
And thus I felt no need to rescue
Adam Smith (morality-obsessed).
To put Descartes before the Horse-
men of the Apocalypse
War, famine, pestilence and worse.
Who could guess it would eclipse
my thought, wherefore I was oppressed.
Or take the case of Denis Diderot
a friend of Hume and others seedier.
and one you might consider so
rash as to produce an encyclopedia
to get his knowledge off his chest.
That precious quality of truth
was Mary Ann’s# description of it.
It would not take a Sherlock sleuth
to simply thus produce a conviction of it:
an elementary request.
I cut my questing teeth on Russell.
His secular logic had a profound effect
and seemed to stir each red corpuscle
inhabiting this fervid non-sect-
arian but doubting breast.
I later turned my eye on Dawkins,
and his concern with my divine delusion.
A sceptic whose inspiring squawkings
validate my disillusion
and emphasise an ill-starred quest.
And so I felt the pointlessness of it.
Progress is the best end for a man to see
And belief simply produced less profit
for reality’s dispelling of my fantasy.
So, in the end, I acquiesced.
#Mary Ann Evans, aka George Eliot, in Adam Bede
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
Shoutout to the unsung heroes!
Whose noble swords still rise higher and higher
In this world where broken shields are dire
We disregard our weapons of steel. Oh,
And bards who sing of loot and money
Gems, precious stones, and gold a-plenty
Perhaps if I sing of these unheard vigilantes
The world would be so very jaunty!
Fame, loot, tales and territories;
Unsung heroes have never earned any of these
Despite all efforts to bring about justice,
Despite dispelling all forms of avarice…
Alas, no recognition to lay up front!
No form of appreciation, only gaunt…
Gaunt expressions, an unwelcome chanting of desolation
That's what an unsung hero faces - tribulations.
But look at the bright side!
The future isn't dark, nor no grim eventide
I will sing of these unsung heroes
In short, sweet verses as mementos
For that fleeting moment in time
When they took up the courage to halt crime.
So again, I'm calling out to all the unsung heroes!
Who rose from the bottom the others called zero.
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 11:48 AM UTC
To our darling Veronica
With affection, she I call “Sweet Pea”
The lady’s smile, I always see
When she waltzes by with sponge and mop
With a cheerful wave to all that lot
Who never see her scrubbing there...
To tidy kitchen, loo and stair,
Who never see her great technique
Let alone defer to speak.....
Sweet Pea we’ll miss your great finess
Your bright and cheery fix of mess,
Your happy way of making right
That which most refuse to sight,
May you find your life’s real gain
Dispelling old folk’s aches and pain.
May you have sweet days of bright
Without a cleaning mop in sight.
Love and a great big kiss of gratitude
For the wonderful sparkling world you have given us.
Love from us lot @ VPT
Feb 22, 2012
Feb 22, 2012 at 12:47 PM UTC
The weight of sorrow, heavy on my chest,
In shadows deep, my mind finds no rest.
Echoes of silence, haunting and stark,
As I navigate through the labyrinth of the dark.
Each passing hour feels like a century,
Lost in the depths of my own solitary reverie.
Tangled in the threads of memories old,
As the night unfolds, its mysteries untold.
But even in the darkest hour, a flicker of hope,
A beacon of light in the vast expanse I *****
For dawn shall break, dispelling the gloom,
And with it, a promise of a new day's bloom.
So I'll endure this journey through the night,
For beyond the darkness, awaits the morning light.
With each tear shed, a seed of strength is sown,
Guiding me through the darkness, I'll find my own.
Mar 14, 2024
Mar 14, 2024 at 8:28 PM UTC
O God, may Your light of love and truth always shine through
illuminating all the darkness and dispelling our ignorance too.
You are the Only One That eternally shines by Its own infinite light
and everything’s a reflection of Thy glory witnessed by divine sight.
_____________________
Apr 19, 2021
Apr 19, 2021 at 7:34 AM UTC
**Dear Nat,
When I grow up,
I think that my
Wonder Woman cape,
that flys behind
so gracefully,
as I wrestle villains,
intent upon
World Destruction
will morph into a
***** dish rag
that hangs limply
from my shoulder,
as I tend too,
mountains of
folding and training of
hysterical toddlers
to be stable products
in society
Is what shape,
this cape, marking me
"all-grown-up'?
Signed,
Helen
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
Dear Wonder Woman,
(Borrowing from and with apologies to
Arthur Herzog Jr. and Billie Holiday...)
This ball you tossed,
Arrived early morn,
Forcing me tocontemplate
the choice between
Shaving, and /or poetically,
dispelling your
Grand Confusion.
Fancy that, as I pondered
How to best express,
The obvious reply,
the BS&T; sang the answer
Obviatin' the need,
To discuss your heroics,
The care, the feed,
Those you care for,
Attend their needs.
*God bless the child
that's got his own,
God bless' the child
who can stand up and say
I've got my own
Ev'ry child's, got to have his own,
His very own.*
I could be more explicit,
That when I was a child,
A red dish cloth was a
Perfectly good ASAP cape,
That defeating bad guys
Hungry work that needed
Ring Dings + milk, to soothe a
Superhero's Superman
And both arrived courtesy of
Wonder Mom.
So rather than ramble,
Let this preamble
suffice:
*God bless the child
that's got his own,
Wonder Woman*
N.B. This message has been approved by the
Justice League of America, Australia Branch.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 12:20 PM UTC
*my rough and tattered edges like sea glass
smoothly rounded by her passions
relentlessly polished by intimate contact
with her welling water and earthy grit
the reality of her excites me
humbling any romantic doubt
dispelling any fantasy skepticism
instilling a will for the moment
she is energy in pure spherical form
encircling this scattered life
she holds for me a sense of place
a bookmark to poetic existence
just as bands bind magic barrel staves
as rainbows secretly circle underground
as concentric rings indicate growth
love will revolve even as it expands*
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 4:26 PM UTC
Though miles may separate us dear friend,
And days fly quickly with each irksome chore,
Our bond on such trifles does not depend,
Only serves to enrich our love the more.
Although skies may darken with clouds of grey
Dispelling happiness with blackest gloom,
Glad sunshine dances in sparkling ray
When mem'ries of you flood as sweet perfume.
Melody of robin and woodthrush blend;
Gentle breezes through meadow grasses sigh.
I am reminded of my lovely friend
Causing worries and grief from me to fly.
I am so happy to call you my friend!
Happy Mother's Day Wishes I do send.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 6:12 PM UTC
I've been awake for too long.
Sleeping every night you'd think I would've got the hang of it by now
But the last year, sleep has eluded me.
Now I sit pre-dawn hour.
Preparing myself.
Settling an upset stomach,
Turmoil of emotions.
A sea of anxiety -
Chaotically churning chyme
As time goes turning on.
Fooled myself that I was neutral.
That I would be happy no matter the outcome.
Yet, here I am. Sweating fear.
Like I'm out gun so I have to out run bullets.
Radical Critical Acceptance.
Is my only line of defense
Against the offense of uncertainty
No point worrying about what I'm going to be dealt - pointless action.
Deal me the cards and I'll work from there.
We're all **** in the new dawn.
Naked in our actions, our motives
All wanting a plethora of letters
In a hundred different combinations.
So as that sun rises
Like a single old wise iris
Dispelling it's light on me
I wonder -
what will today bring?
Either way, I'm certified that I'm leaving.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
Cosmic serpent
Flies in circles
Orbits earths
Visits vessels
Stings and wrestles
Prowls the plain
The desert arrangements
Faces fire no fear
Takes one look at the spider
Sees through the fire
Undresses the only envy
The necessity plenty
Of spiraling ascent
To meaning manifest
A plunge into the nest of the fortune cookie prophecies
Fate pulled from a hat
In the terraforming visions of the seven breasted harpy speech devours itself
The visioneer’s ouroboros precludes ovals of assimilation clinging tight to the exoteric
The vessel rejects the half digested
An ammonia laden upheaval
Dispelling folderol with blinding reverence
Inviting tragedy with nostalgic foresight
Wet nightmares
Logic abandons the visioneer ****** into the opposite of static
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 9:59 PM UTC
Sometimes good intentions
Bring the worst of outcomes
We must take the incentives
Of dispelling ignorances
To prevent ourselves
From failures
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 3:51 AM UTC
A voice echoes through my head--
My name, sounding
Over and over again.
A thought flits across my mind,
And a smile alights on my face.
"Maybe it's my soulmate,"
My heart thinks.
My head shakes,
Dispelling the romantic fantasy.
Because hearts don't think,
And a stranger's voice can't speak in my head.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 2:23 PM UTC
A pull or a falling feeling
At the heart
Head fuzzy, blood drawn below
The touch of another, so new, so full in its sensation,
Dispelling the separation of the world
fueling the engine of desire.
Entering, she holds me wetly and warmly.
Encouraging, finding sounds
to exchange love and lust and awkward sentences.
No, yes
What am I saying.
Discovering, touching, thirsting,
Release, collapse, silence, holding
A new beginning.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
There's something incredibly southing about taking in this frigid air
Its chill flows through me
Dispelling the tired leaves of a long sweltering season
I'm left bare
An opportunity to appreciate the strength of my roots
Admire my branches
Though they be crooked, brimming with knots, and countless broken branches
Will I survive this time of reflection and blossom in time for Spring
Or cower in fear of another snapped limb
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 11:44 AM UTC
Dear Calpurnia Mockingbird, was it you I lately heard, singing in the night.
You sang so soft, so sweet and low-yet to the high c's you could go. and all below. You sang as in a dream, dark as chocolate- smooth as cream.
A wordless song-yet full of love.
What star gave you birth to sing-to sing your song to men on earth,
dispelling all complacency, and false worth.
Humbled now I will review and try to hone my skills anew.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 5:13 AM UTC
Still more, in words
In experience
Confusing Familiarity with Comfort
Confusing Comfort with Peace
Reifying confusion, but not successfully
Yielding, on my knees, heart to the sky
Forgetting
Seeing through, a single pinhole in a perfectly realistic backdrop
Pinholes everywhere, more than can be contained
Not containing
Torn all over
Dispelling everything
Stripping away the Stripping away
Trying to stand very still and very quite so I can feel, hear, sense
Perfect realism
Wanting to be convinced by rage
Agitation, but only conceptual
Feeling tight
Feeling rehearsed
Feeling like an imposter
Wanting to impress
Wanting to be convinced of Self, of Realness
Fortified by others knowing, or preferably- admiration
Like being constructed out of sets of other peoples' eyes
Like being made real by propagating in more minds, many more minds, specific minds. In countless beating and virtual hearts, likes, thumbs up
Not wanting to be forgotten, while alive, while dead
Taxed by maintenance and constant imminent collapse
Compassion, like collapsing into a safe lap
Relinquishing
No pretense
Bare being
More naked than when unclothed
Total exposure
Outed, in the light of knowing
Self forgetting and glimpses of freedom
Trusting sighing
Always loving Sad, not despondent, just sad
Feeling continuous
Feeling fragmented
Feeling like motion, like flow
Feeling like thousands of still frames, constant flickering
Grasping at impermanence, visceral
Resting in the middle
Dancing down the tightrope
Knowing perfect poise, brief equilibrium
Reifying stability. Gone.
Everything is hysterically funny
Hysterically
But also, sometimes, just plain humorous
And absurd
Crying
Loving people
Grateful for people
Seeing beauty everywhere
Encountering this, intimate, me, indistinguishable being, but everywhere
Ouch
Awareness
Always coming back
Like an epic
Like a great love story
Like the last wring of that silk dress you weren't supposed to squeeze dry
Feeling like I shouldn't know what I know, like I couldn't. This must be illegal, cosmically illegal
Knowing the inside of my hand
Knowing teenage shame
Knowing being yelled at, towered over, by my dad, in a narrow hallway, eyes glued to speckled floor tiles, feeling small
Loving with my body, with my hands, with my mouth, with my whole entire strong softness
Loving with understanding
Loving with teeth and nails
Music, lacerating
Crying with tears, and snot, and heaving
Becoming one single, concentrated point
Wanting to envelope everything. Really. Actually. Like physically with my body.
Knowing I am not this voice
Or this writer
Or this narrator
Though I am also all that
Aug 6, 2022
Aug 6, 2022 at 12:07 AM UTC
It is in the absence of your presence that I stumble along.
How could I have taken you so for granted?
My constant.
My North Star you always guided me home.
Now I am so far from you here and I can't escape the gratitude
You were simply there.
A form of comfort that loomed beside me and brought warmth while dispelling my fear.
How could you not know?
When every encounter with you brought a smile to my face?
Every moment was so precious.
It was enough to have you stand beside me, in the warmth and strength of heart.
Like a lion you protected mine.
Now, with skills you taught I stand alone protecting it.
And I miss the shield your love provided. I miss your face.
And I am sorry, not that I told you but that in telling you I changed everything.
The dynamic changed when I spoke, and everything silent that was taken for granted suddenly came crashing like an elephant into the room.
But you are not a china shop and this is not insurmountable.
I am not a bull.
Time has passed and will continue to do so. And you look at me with eyes that sees this for all it is and you say "Another lifetime."
I smile, "Yes, Love, another Lifetime."
~ for TJB (August 30th, 2013)
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 11:29 AM UTC