"disseminating" poems
Selene.
By the sea, I have been staring,
at your bright colours change.
Erythematous, murderous intentions of
a disease disseminating
on your surface.
The slow, penetrating anguish
tearing the guts,
a one-sided, disdained,
newborn sadness,
I am welcoming in my arms.
On the operating theatre of life
white and now dead moths,
stillborn butterflies
inside the flesh removed,
drowned themselves in a pool of blood.
They, an absurd joy
that never stood a chance
inside this cyanide prison.
Portals of loaned,
disillusioned happiness closed.
The liquid that raced turbulently
through my vessels, drained on a half-filled
with tears palette.
With menacing, impasto knife-like strokes
on the body
Morpheus painted the shadow-covered moon
with memories that refuse to be forgotten
from purulent, open wounds.
'Those worlds you will (never) see.
The people you will (never) meet' he said.
Soul chemicals eroding
the behemoth sky,
as the paint dries out.
Ashes of my Dreams (Not) Achieved,
astral remains;
everything I silently kept inside.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 11:31 PM UTC
Freedom flings
Tyrant kings
Into their rightful place
A head on a plate
Democracy inflates
The morale of the people
Oligarchy deflates
The idea that we're equal
Spiteful dictators make their way through the system
And dominate the world while nobody listens
Distracting people with things that glisten
Disseminating hatred as their vision
Engendering fear is their mission
To buy or sell weapons
For more money or more power
Dropping bombs from their ivory tower
From extreme explosions we cower
Explosions of hatred then violence
Explosions hastened by silence
Explosions of fire we ferment
To burn the faces off our enemy
To avoid exercising our empathy
Creating a world filled by entropy
People say ******** like freedom isn't free
When the currency we pay for freedom
Is restriction
We dampen our fiery feelings
With prescriptions
Freedom is free
It's inherent
It can only be taken or given away
It is not a proper excuse to slay
Those that rightly disagree
With what you're imposing
Freedom is fleeing far far away
When people are molded by clay
Of those with the power to shape civilians
Of those with the power to bring billions
Of people to their knees
When freedom is our fee
To live in timid apathy
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 11:46 AM UTC
883
The Poets light but Lamps—
Themselves—go out—
The Wicks they stimulate—
If vital Light
Inhere as do the Suns—
Each Age a Lens
Disseminating their
Circumference—
3.3k
[*I can only survive my life in two ways;
wasted by the fire of my gratification,
wasted by the fire of my longing.*]
Love had just woven my
intolerable shirt of flame, this
bedazzled blouse betwixt
an area brimming with smoke
and my own heart.
this consuming flame...
the flame that fuels itself with
my everything.
I am a sorceress at the stake.
I feel the fire sear
into my skin,
destroying the weak,
frail covering
to my body,
disseminating to parts
I didn’t know
existed.
The torment is utterly
consuming.
Everything within me,
every ounce of strength
that remains, struggles to
shed this shirt of flame.
[This devised torment
by love Herself.]
Yet, the blazing fire
is frantic for my body.
The flames
cling to me,
fast to my skin,
like you have
...and do
...and will.
We suspire the smoke from the flames which
destroy all that surrounds us;
it becomes a part of us that
our bodies will never be able
to discern...
to notice...
to erase.
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 2:51 AM UTC
**Cloaked in the dark of night
The soul breathes
Inhaling deeply
The shadows breed within
Devouring all
Leaching out to maculate
Disseminating its wicked tendrils
Consumption is absolute**
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC
Leafless branch
Desiccated trunk
Withered carcass
But, the root
Yet, beneath the soil
Disseminating
The fruit ripens
On the leafless branch
Harassed by assailing winds
Hence the scent, if, the roots last
4/21/13
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 6:18 PM UTC
A lonesome voice began a mournful air,
As bowing low, it moved amongst the trees;
Its booming tones exuding sad despair,
Disseminating, on a wistful breeze --
A soft sweet voice came drifting down from high,
As bowing swift, it moved with fluent grace;
Its ringing song effusing endless joy,
As two lost voices shared a first embrace --
Their unity, a ringing pack of bells,
And canon drawn midst Ursa's watchful gaze;
Their song a tune that nothing ever quells,
Its tempo strong until their end of days;
Oft’ times, the canon booms, the bells will ring,
As two more lonely voices learn to sing
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 5:09 AM UTC
Shepherds, cobblers, carpenters and joiners of all creeds and worldly dreamers
You troubled souls, the brittle spirits drinking spirits cleaner
Taunted workers of yore, farmers gone and industries endowed
Disseminating futures, who's gonna build your ***** barrels now?
**** it, I'm going to work in a call center
Jul 26, 2019
Jul 26, 2019 at 6:15 AM UTC
I do not love you as if you were salt rose, topaz,
Or arrow of carnations disseminating fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
In secret, between shadow and soul.
I love you like the plant that does not bloom
But bears hidden within itself those flowers’ light,
And thanks to your love there dwells darkly in my body
The compressed scent arisen from the earth.
I love you, knowing neither how, nor when, nor whence;
I love you directly, without problems or pride:
Thus I love you, for I know no other way,
Unless it be such that there’s no I nor You,
So close that your hand on my chest is my own,
So close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 11:37 AM UTC
You're a Poet, but you don't just write poems, you're so much more
gifted with the power of perception, knowing how to make hearts soar
compelled to share your heart's impressions, both the good and the bad
taking the beautiful and lyrical, making them happy, and sometimes sad
You're a Poet, writing poetry, sharing imagination with a flowing creativity
wanting to bring people close, ever watchful to avoid unwanted negativity
coming from the Greek word poietes, poet, which means maker or to make
allows us to appreciate each other as poets, life's all about the give and take
You're a Poet, loving the world and the people in it, wanting to see the truth
knowing your limitations and flaws, always open to introspection and proof
self driven from a powerful force within, and needing to share your thoughts
you tailor words just so, keeping your objectivity intact, as your poetry talks
You're a Poet, unlike the rich and wealthy, your treasure will never be stolen
a power to create, using the simplest of tools, even with a measured semi-colon
you have a venue for sharing and caring, you warm the feelings of those around
drawing people into your inner world, giving them words with a beautiful sound
You’re all Poets, all having the power, and making the difference to someone dear
never stop giving of yourselves, because so many find direction in what you share
so to all of you calling yourself poet, my friendship and admiration for you is clear
honorably spreading messages of hope, by disseminating poetry to those that care
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
*Once upon a time I had a heart of gold....
Then one day
The day that door swung open
All of a sudden
Reaching inside
love was stolen...
Insert
a slow disseminating of cracking stone
Spreading intensely to each and every fiber
of my once content
once in love
once living, breathing soul...
Now I sit only enduring...
Fake smiles for my children's eyes
watching them,
They're unknowing...
Lives,
without understanding
Growing up too fast
Watching us,
without trust
without love*
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
I van a try to describe while sitting on me ****
how he oh bomb in lee rages with gnashing teeth
while back a slump
blasting Democratic nomination as a sham – man
from special interest pump
he, the epitomy of crass bloviation,
a malignant lump
whose rants sans presidential outcome a sham bull
with his millions beds this, that
and another woman to ******** jump
disseminating gene pool –
birthing more quackers and additionally doth ****
the mass media as some foolhardy charade
and caricature of a frazzled grump
this arboreal clothed ape erecting
Taj Mahal ******* symbols where players dump
and gamble away hard earn cash for his kitty,
as if that cachet to grind and bump
lambasting with that maniacal leering pout
while hair *** of red bulls
atop his bulbous aerosol sprayed
heady measly shaped Muppet
dis eased cranial hologram of a cretaceous,
facetious and insidious mump!
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 2:35 PM UTC
The echo
of
that moment
- my moment
with you –
is
now
disseminating
through
time & space;
through
that door,
through
those four-cornered walls,
through
your breath
and mine;
We find,
yes we will
find
eternity
in
the echo
of
that moment
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 8:35 AM UTC
in theme now right disseminating lies
I know it all too well
it's one last score one last game
it is victory
the game
the goal the only thing
when conquering
is human toil
the waste and turmoil
the consequence a factor in
but human suffering
holds no regard for
plans or deeds
just ultimate rewards
where human needs
are sought no more
that is the interfering thing
the flesh and blood
that goes hungry
so tell me all
you sudden
conquerors
has empathy no
path no more
has feeling lost
her last reward?
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 2:38 AM UTC
the higher standard
~
the excuse jar emptied,
plenty of time,
still flush with inside insights
but end all, stillborn, flushed
poems entitled,
but not embodied,
the cards dealt,
but each hand folded,
the stack of chips
slowly diminished,
many small ventures
for no gain
a verse, a stanza
but no bonanza,
the mirror of mine own
editorial critical gaze enhanced,
judges the work unpurposed,
nothing passes muster
not a one invited to the
high school last dance
even this lamentation
by way of explanation,
itself defective,
but yet slogging on,
progresses - perhaps
paper and pen
long since discarded,
yet mental imagery of myself,
surrounded by mountains
of crumpled drafts
rising up to fill the
surrounding empty floor spaces,
feels so real, I am, ha ha,
floored and flummoxed
somewhere unbeknownst how,
received a crucifixion transfusion,
the mind's blood now tainted
by this holier barrier,
subsequently diagnosed as
an official human ailment -
the higher standard
the faucet of words
fills the sink,
disordered, spouted molecules,
despite the clarity of water,
reformation needy for a reformatting
nothing suffices,
the quench unmet,
this purifying filter imposition -
the higher standard
reduces my scribbling scriptures,
to ashen dust, scattered
among the gigabytes
in a rented cloud
supposedly available for resurrection,
when the Messiah of Satisfactory
arises from the place,
where all messiahs await,
for further testing,
all caught, but none released
even this mea culpa to myself,
unsatisfactory, barely avoiding,
the usual suspects of inadequacy
and almost discarded,
nearly failing the language barrier,
the last test,
is it worthy of disseminating?
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 6:52 PM UTC
I dithered to my feet
My mind partly ridden by aberration
My eyes in pursuit of any remaining tinctures of light
My frustration disseminating its benumbing beams
Pulverizing every hope of my survival
But darkness prevailed my surroundings
Darkness-that was enthralling every limb of my body
Leaving me trammeled within this pandemonium
Perhaps my annihilation lied within this vacuity
This dark abyss from where return was merely improbable
I spent time contemplating,
Wondering, what brought me to this tenebrous threshold?
Ferreting for that egregious crime I had committed
Which made me susceptible to such castigation?
Was it my flagrancy or imperative innocence?
I thought incessantly,
But nothing could I come up with
Other than my fault of being ignorant
Ignorant on part of our flaws,
The flaws of the inhabitants of this opaque world
Then in the midst of my depression
Emerged a distant spark of blue light
A light- as distant as the sun,
A light- capable of illuminating the world
This spark flickered, blossomed and radiated
Gradually eating up the darkness
Slowly letting itself ablaze
Its heat so intense and almost emanating
I lunged towards it
But came back stumbling down
No- I thought this was not the end-
My unwavering fortitude compelled me to rise
I ran and ran, till it was in my hands
Till I rose triumphant in my pursuit of light.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 2:44 PM UTC
When I'm the wide open sea.
He is the birds that fly above me.
Gracefully disseminating his warmth
Across my forgotten heart.
Teaching it to fly with all its might.
Giving it courage and a little light
To make it through the storms that
Sprout In my clouds of passion.
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 12:06 AM UTC
How can the sun
be silent in
univocal space
An harmony of
spheres with
ceremonial grace
And one bizarre
small planet
humming at great speed
Full filled with creeping
crawling things
disseminating seed
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 4:11 AM UTC
By Jennifersoter Ezewi
She is beautiful
When her knees gives you
Direction.
She is beautiful
When the words of her mouth
Keeps you calm.
She is beautiful
When the look of her
Embroidery keeps you warm.
She is beautiful
When her smiles
Makes you comfortable.
She is beautiful
When her compelling force
Gives you peace.
She is beautiful
When the steps she takes
Honours your name.
She is beautiful
When the smoke around her
Keeps her refined.
She is beautiful
When her actions keeps her Attracted.
She is beautiful
When the fire in her eyes Quenches your worries.
She is beautiful
When you declare her
Beautiful.
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 12:51 AM UTC
I am the optimal level of sanity,
treading where dreading hearts
dare not travel,
walking in shadows
with blind madmen.
I am the
strangely broken
god of poetry
because I create
new worlds of
hope and despair
everyday
without even needing
six days and one to rest.
I unravel the fabric of thought
to light the worst
so, we can bring out the best
like they brought out the dead
during the plague
Bells ringing for the
unsanitary mistakes
of mass population
humans promulgating on
the promenade of life
propagating in dense spaces
and disseminating our chemical forms
across the globe
inseminating malleable minds
and soft mud bodies.
Who am I but the mad king poet
because in the land of the blind
the one-eyed writer
is better than all eastern
and western philosophy poetry.
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 9:50 AM UTC
Tasked today with thorning
thistled favor over reigns,
we drained the shot that scored
the weak on board
and shattered crystal pain.
Who drops us off white rockets
pulled from earth like swede from stone
to jet to planes above?
The fuel we love, abundant every turn:
advice in our good ands. Disseminating
buts like rice, exceptions
unto every goal,
obscuring each clear picture
in the way. Re-light
and curse the days
you fight it, pining, elbows up,
some cheap romance whose pages
wear you thin. You render
heartache on the blow -
skid-crushing, woeful throes
of counterpoint dispatched to swallow
lightness from the shore.
Wise up
and ask for more.
Be stronger - shed your brightness
on the bay. Delay those saturated
hoodwinks. Gamble on discreetless
balconies where broke your fall
from order. Signal wholeness
of your cause, re-bolster lack of laws
with blinding arrows to your neck -
revise, rehone the wherewithal
to do what’s due: respect.
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 12:36 AM UTC
I know you are a gossip mongers
And you know I'm detesting you,
And you know I'm not pleased with you,
You always judge me day and night
And you follow me from left to right.
When will you stop to judge me?
When will you stop to follow me?
When I fail you are busy disseminating that tale
Through your sinful lips that murmurs around
Now my life's beautiful story would surely fall unto the ground.
Gossip, gossip, gossip everywhere
You exhibits your evil colours,
I know you are a gossip mongers here and there.
When will you see a right things I have done?
And do you know your bad character will be gone?
Enough, enough with your nonsense chitchat
Stop with all your constant backchat
Instead, mind your own lives and be fruitful
For our world to be restful and peaceful.
#EDM.
Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 9:51 PM UTC
A young girl climbs the rickety ladder
for what seemed like the hundredth time
eager to enter the castaway world tucked silently above.
The taut metal springs strumming loudly with every step she takes.
The cool air below giving way to a still and searing heat
and she wonders
how long she’ll be able to stand it this time.
In the darkness,
the smell of hard pine fills her senses.
Her hand expertly finds the flimsy string
to the single unadorned bulb.
The light casts brightly around her
fading deeply into the far corners she dare not go.
She looks around quickly
as if to see something that shouldn’t be there.
Her breath releases.
No, she is alone.
Nothing’s changed since the last time she visited here.
Forgotten clothes
old books with lost words
and memories of times passed
unorderly scattered across the splintered floorboards.
She knows the contents of every torn and abandoned bag
every unmarked box
and where every nail reaches out to claim its thread of the cobweb.
Her eyes now adjusting to the disseminating light
she feels the heat beginning its test on her quickly dampening skin.
The green floral dress hung lazily out of its bag
the one she has come to know by touch alone.
Envisioning how it took her mother’s shape,
she lifts the precious memory from its resting place
holding it up to her own small form.
Tears well
sliding down her flushed cheeks
and as if a mirror stood before her
she sways,
enveloped in the warm recollections
of the life that no longer filled the dress.
It is here where she feels it most.
It is here where the unspoken conversation can continue.
It is here where she can dance with Love.
She returns the dress back to the timeless world
feeling lighter and heavier than ever before.
With sweat now flowing freely from her pores
she surrenders to the sweet oppressiveness of this place.
She pulls the light string once more,
blanketing the weighted treasures in blackness.
again,
alone with the dark.
She will always come back to this ascended place
offering each step
every breath
and all her tears.
For it is here where she feels it most.
It is here where the unspoken conversation can be had.
It is here where she can dance with Love.
Feb 10, 2021
Feb 10, 2021 at 8:39 PM UTC