"divulge" poems
*At the core of every secret
Is the truth*
A truth we are unwilling to divulge
Yet through time we evolved
To learn truth is the best solve
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 10:37 AM UTC
love is so daunting
I just might not prevail
I'd rather divulge my passion in further prospects
Things I am assured of
My plans for the future, steady as bored
love is so fleeting it hurts
why am I falling for you
ska girl n o t
a
g r r r l
let's be un-girls together
as always, I give in to crushes
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 4:38 PM UTC
Bless me Uncle! God's given Naked Head
For finding a Mentor these Comms restore
And import a Friend brought Laughter instead
With a Learning Interest revived once more
For all our doubts, grateful Confidence brew
This shrill Vernacular you opt to Reach
Whilst you divulge Traded Secrets a-new
Shrieked the Blue Eagle; Sately-Done you Teach
That Part we will Miss! Surely Independ
When we of Soft Skills this Task inherit
What Pictures remain of Trust comprehend
We give back in Kind to Service, debit.
Difficult it is to Forget you by
As you climb the Stairs, we sing: "MABUHAY!"
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 2:54 AM UTC
I went from a lover to a liar in a heartbeat;
the flip of a switch as soon as I heard I could get what I'd been craving.
The jolt of electricity through your bloodstream, the feeling of being alive with your senses on fire, the ability to seem untouchable: superhero like even...
Almost nothing compares in that moment, but in the afterglow, when your cape begins to lose its wind and your heart starts to slow, nothing feels worse than pondering it's destined finale.
Discovering your conscience, all the while knowing that no matter how much you love someone, the poison always comes first.
It's a terrible reality, the ability to choose.
And I always choose wrong, down the path of the chemical adventure, knowing that at the end, I always inevitably fall off the cliff.
But it's an obsession: being on top of the world, and no matter how much time passes, or how far I think I've come, she always wins.
It's the slow onset, the clarity, the peaks where everything seems far better than it actually is, but now the dream is over.
I need to let it go or it will consume me; living in a false reality, locked in to my need for perfection.
She used to calm me and make me godlike, but now I've fallen from my pedestal and upon looking up, I see she turns me into the monster I've never wanted to be...
Hiding, in shame, from the soul I love the most. I wish I could tell her, divulge all of my secrets, but the fear of the disappointment on her face is too much for me to bare.
Because I know she could help me,
if I would just tell her the truth.
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 12:39 AM UTC
How many chocolates did this person eat?
If the chocolate was made before the chocolate was eaten.
It melted away through the process of heating.
But, how could the chocolate melt if the chocolate was almost freezing?
Its exposure to the sunrise was apparent,
But, at what time did it leave before becoming disparate?
The time difference was dwelled in effect,
before the chocolate was seen in such repent.
Therefore, the state of the chocolate has been pronounced viable.
In the mouth of the person of which this question ultimately relies upon.
In the sense of being eaten once it was made,
while maintaining its sweet composure without heating or freezing away.
How many chocolates did this person indulge?
If in reality it was only made an hour before it was divulged!
Only this person could really say,
to relive this encounter one must divulge away.
While the mystery revolves around the chocolates dense state,
We must indulge in a chocolate now and allow this question to dissipate.
By: Michael M. De La Fuente
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 8:15 PM UTC
gone so long
fine memories line
your beauty face adored
paltry company by now
the made doll with her tight red smile
no secrets will divulge
pretty blue eyes held so wide
by violent stitches black
no blinking now and no excuse
the truth is all revealed
as the lie was all reviled
but once it was a simple sharing
blood along the line
mother strength to daughter
from she to me to mine
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC
When all alone, true emotions become exposed;
the memories are no longer hiding within.
The pain and sorrow that are so often closed,
are brought to the surface usually concealed by the skin.
Smiles turn down with descending tears,
empty thoughts flow through your mind.
Goals and content have begun to disappear,
replaced with heartache so blind.
In time the light will amply return
and you can once again make it easily through your days.
Each heartbreak brings a new lesson to learn;
new emotions, new feelings, will start to make way.
So in a moment of weakness,
where it feels as though your heart is broken
Divulge your uniqueness;
to new opportunities your eyes will be open.
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 9:54 AM UTC
Muck bit her ivory nightgown, as if earth hungering
after her...the delicate collapse of a napkin,she.
Hours poured atop her head, her shaggy, silvery
mane suspended--its reluctant bounce captured
at midpoint...as a spiderweb under ultraviolet light.
Desert sands lost in contemplation, reminiscent of
her flesh--divulge her core as she sleeps in a
fetal position.
Her body spasms awkwardly...its will visibly slowed
from initial motion.
As the paralysis experienced by prey amid the astral
annals of nightmares.
She'll rise into that shine, wonder at the nightmare's
symbology...talk to her garden--whilst thinking of her
time to come.
Silkworm breached the parcel
of time, its cocooned inertia
coarsed through the opalescent
eye of God to Godhood.
Of time's ruination redeemed
in a solitary work...cupped
airless the unbridled form of
a trapezist spent itself.
Opened and closed somersaults
atripped a piece of said space...
nothingness regenerated to
move, to take step of itself.
A self-argumentative abstraction
glowed...undid its silken flag--
firmly planted in an undiscovered
region...her time come.
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 7:45 PM UTC
I don't know how to talk.
I don't know how to express.
I don't know how to understand.
I don't know how to undress.
I know how to feel.
I know how to see.
I know how to write.
I know how to sing.
So don't make me speak
let me endure until all is done.
Don't make me divulge
let me behold what can be won.
Don't make me learn
I beg you, let me inscribe.
Don't make me unravel
let me croon
don't let me die.
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 12:46 AM UTC
Divest me in lowest twang possible
You're a virus ov benevolence
Clod dockets and nightly shrivels
You're Ideology's ravaged havoc
All slates ov mind embellish at one time
Scandalmonger, a repetitive meddler
I am, you are, a beast like endeavor
Two noddy's going rabid
To divulge and disclose; we're savaged
Trek of dearth and surly in combined minds
Withered, wizened, burnished, refined.
Nov 19, 2010
Nov 19, 2010 at 4:27 PM UTC
I will cast of lead to sea
hoping to catch memory.
That does swim in waters deep
as I take a patient seat
Clouds divulge a sign of hearts
I do wish to make new start.
We must try to make it work
in the past I was a ****
Wait a fish begins to bite
It reminds of you this night.
You the fish did got a way.
Do return to me, I pray.
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 6:38 PM UTC
bleak reality
meaningless amounts of me
i can never compare
to the love that you both share
you need her and she needs you
one without the other is just not fair
destroying one another
plumes of smoke
ashes of hope
ounces and ounces of love to ignite you
without her there would be no dreams to die to
fearing the flight
motionless we lay
she awakens you
and into her you divulge
deep and low is where you converge
somehow she pleases you
never having to tease you
her body releases you
her voice pleads with you
high and wide is where your pain resides
tempting you with unspoken promises
lighting the sky
she fills you
and into paper you merge
mouth open
lips relaxed
her memory fades
up and away
up and away
this is the part that hurts
releasing her remains
up in smoke your love for her will never change
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 8:27 PM UTC
The soft edges of femininity,
Round, ******* complements,
Heels, ***** of the feet, sockets,
Soft eyes, soft hearts, soft hands
Tinkering, thanking, crossing, legs.
Girlhood is enclosed in a silver box
With mute pastels and a heavy soundtrack of strings,
Strings which bifurcate, dissect, divulge,
Horrors, bells, instruments and lush melodies.
Girlhood smells of iron, hot animals, heaving,
Converging, pin ****** the sharp alacrity of Knowing.
Eyes are wet, armpits go black , round edges
Protrude into a potbelly, grow and stagnate,
expand and collapse.
Jul 9, 2021
Jul 9, 2021 at 3:06 PM UTC
1522
His little Hearse like Figure
Unto itself a Dirge
To a delusive Lilac
The vanity divulge
Of Industry and Morals
And every righteous thing
For the divine Perdition
Of Idleness and Spring—
2.3k
I feel for you, really I do.
Alone in the center of attention.
All eyes watching your actions,
Not for example but for laughs.
I’m tired of attempting to provide you with satisfaction.
Especially when you care not for the feelings of mine.
A favorite quote that you express,
“Well then throw the first stone.”
It’s not about destroying another,
But understanding there are differences.
Not all follow what you claim is right nor agree with your beliefs.
I am sorry to be the one to tell you; however, someone needs to.
As two earbuds resting within the canal of sound,
You constantly express disappointment.
Yet however much I am disappointed in you,
That cannot be true for you embody perfection.
Perfection apparently has graced your presence,
But you attempt to play it down with scriptures.
Words are what I choose to divulge,
Yet yours are tainted with bias.
Hypocrisy drips off your lips,
As drool from a dog’s mouth.
Return to what you know so intimately,
The need for self-affirmation and praise.
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 2:30 PM UTC
I have a vision,
of my brain melting on lined paper,
as I divulge my inner demon,
and exhale this passionate vapor,
my mind begins to capsize,
as waves crash into the sunrise,
like screaming howls,
as I stare into a deadly wolves eyes,
eyes, golden like this California sunrise.........
All
Content
Written by
PoETEPETE
{2000 ~~ 2015}
~©~ Protected & never neglected.
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC
Faces of mirror,
Reflecting ideas of hollow by
Facing each other
Projecting the rays of concepts that claim
To be for a better world
The rays collide, conflicts abide
Concealed intentions are to divulge
And trainers of such thoughts to indulge
No purpose does regard our well-being
Masters of the art of demonocracy
Are here to labor us all
And we will have to serve them all
"Caressed by the tongue of the serpent,
They'll birch us with the whip of blind hatred
We'll be longing for our long gone past
The time when our fathers cared
For people, not their nations.
As we exhale for the very last time
The foul air in our lungs."
The provocation of the real of the void
Opening the gate
To the domain of the Faceless,
Voids who crave fulfillment in their desolation.
The coming tyrants of this world
Of segregated herds of sheep.
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 6:25 AM UTC
The path is jagged and so I have been told
I feel so pathetic feel old
The canvas I started is thrown on the floor
The room is full of smoke
I cant help feel distressed
I’m hesitant of this mind of mine
I try and surrender but I cant find the time
When all is said and all is gone
Will I see you? Will you fall at my feet?
With pieces of me upon the mountains for only you to keep
I never tried to stay
I knew what I had to do
Wanting to inhale you into a line straight into my mind
Through amethyst moons and fields of love
You come undone and I have just brought you the sun
Pieces of me dwelling in your nerves
Every ounce of your resilience divulges me
You cant escape what you feel
I beat on this drum
Longing for love that is new
Watch you gaze at me with those shades on
Like an old hippie that just cant grow
Patchouli the fresh scent in your hair
Delicate and weak as you go
Spread your wings
Look at that light it forced itself in
I wanted to stay in bed and sleep
But for the reasons I have to live
It sneaked up on me anyway
It was a Wednesday an a dreadful day to fall in love
But as I crossed the road you caught me by my thoughts
Make sure you kiss the sky as you fly by
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 10:56 PM UTC
Some days I want to be a wild horse
or a gypsy wild and free
Don't put any fence around me
Who would want to tame this
Heart of wild
I just want to be somewhere
Anywhere just not confined
Other days I want to build a house
Build me a home
Build my life around my kids and spouse
Sometimes I can follow the direction of the reins
Even if they do feel like chains
I want to give my all
I am just so scared to answer the call
It seems I want to have my cake
and to eat it too
Its like I have double lives ~ What am I to do
I want my freedom and I want his time
Cannot divulge all the darkness in my mind
There is beauty in imperfection
and order in the unruliness
I am a walking contradiction
Yes I'm somewhat of a mess
Words rhythm and movement are what I live for
and I can sometimes give up the control
I do what feels right to me
Cause there's a gypsy living in my soul
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 10:53 PM UTC
Blasting sparkling blizzards
White skies suffocating;
A ****** of crows hiding.
Chattering from treebark
Petrified little rodents (final)
Serenity in personified wind
Given shape through fog and flake
A symphony of schools of tiny pearly fish
Slamdancing in steam from generators
Perspiring the only heat (miles)
Needles on branches leaking natural
****** made by contrast of mother-of-pearl
Glistening from coral made in woodland;
Empires of organic respiration
Evolved into perfect lungs.
Let the Big Fish gather!
Stalagtites from shed-ceiling
Melting slowly. Cones sprouting
From ground of perfectly smooth rest
Nesting in honeycombs of golden hashish
Leaves falling from stems busted
Water filling up airlocks long since rusted
And the rooftops of cars and homes are dusted
A shroud of grey cloud, nothing comes in
No one goes out. Fortress, sanctuary,
Harmony, charm. Schools stop worrying.
No sharks, no wolves.
Only lonely, shivering coyotes.
And nestled cubs in bedspreads
Let your tongue out, divulge, reel in...
Partake...
Ingest.
Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 1:33 PM UTC
You who have never known the loveliness of love,
Gather your heads on the torn pillow’s edge of mud,
Under the wood-tar shadows of camphor-aided sleep,
Where your low-flung groans are starvations of sound,
And the amputated clouds, insinuated with gangrene
And blood-stained woods, are still bound to the shooting
Stars that fell beside you and flung up hissing rays of grass.
Parents of the midnight sky, the stolen stars of your children
Open their broken mouths to the battlefield heart of trespass.
To their soldiers’ eyes, the floor of heaven is uncut grass,
Wet with rain and mold and the unlifted wings of Pegasus,
Whose unearthly hoof to unearthly earth scuffs the clod
Of the lunette for the cannons to divulge the great, stuttering
Coda of everything old, malformed of breath and bone.
Some grass somewhere will now seem the hair of a sweetheart,
And those dead eyes will aways stare, too fond of love unknown.
So the dead soldier and grass and sky conspire to hold a woman,
So the soldier makes the truce between earth and sky,
Between man and the divine, though the chestnut trees
In red human tongues, pay their deep-forested encomium to distance,
In misspilled gorgeousness like Apollo surveying his own tomb.
Jul 30, 2019
Jul 30, 2019 at 2:38 PM UTC
Picture the word Devastation.
What do you see?
Bodies in a motorcycle accident.
Buildings of fire falling.
But that is not it,
it cannot be. Picture the word
DEVASTATION.
What do you see?
I see something so unbelievably
personal.
Devastation must mean my own life
in wreckage. A body in a
motorcycle accident.
A jump from a
burning building.
I cannot divulge how deeply
this is seared in my thoughts.
Picture the word
Shame
Incidence
Accident
Immolation
Remember
Breath
Grass
Water
Wreckage
Picture the word Love.
What do you see?
Picture the word Devastation.
What do you see?
Are you surrounded?
Only a few?
Are you alone?
Do you want to be?
There is no shame in any answer.
I do not press my morality on others
but we must, must believe that.
There is no shame in any answer.
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 1:33 PM UTC
Pendulous eyes, weary and bleak
Immoveable shadows, the unseen torrents
Coyly divulge the once impetuous spirit
On his shoulders, he carries a colossal weight
For his is a cleft vessel, rudderless and floundering
The rise and fall of each swell, brings neither hope or despair
He contemplates the gilded life, an absurd apparition
And slithers back to obscurity where the worm and dreams cohabitate
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 7:18 AM UTC
The weight of the wisdom we seek eludes
us as we stagger into dark dens of knowledge
suffused and selected, stored in gigantic libraries
of the mind by those
who know
yet wont divulge the details to those
who wait
arms outstretched
for the yearning.
In between lie wannabes
who seek the sun of comments
to glorify themselves as a birth right
unwilling to accept the acid pen
or pain of knowing how falsehoods
lie like wounds exposed to inspection.
Writing poetry in plain language is better
than compromised with complexity.
Just the words and visuals singing on the same note
should suffice to stir the minds magic
to ecstasy.
The crush of wisdom dispels us from climbing
over the boundaries of decency
to sizzle a comment with depressing ease.
You can hear the ego deflate and flatten
akin to a robust balloon descending
to earth like a flightless fancy
with no wingpower.
Not every poem straddles and sparks
in sheer finery
Lots and lots of them refuse to take off
and surrender to the minds star burst
of meaning.
In a days reading maybe
of a hundred, just one line would light up
a dark sky like a comet racing across the page
leaving behind its fairy dust
for us to ponder upon. One diamond
in the dust of lifeless energies
is worth mining for!
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
There once was a TV network
That made me want to exult
But now I am sad and despondent
And it’s mostly Steven Moffat’s fault
I enthusiastically started Doctor Who
Who’s chronology is twisted and bizarre
It seemed like such fun to travel through time and space with a man
Who used a blue box as his car
But soon the companions’ aspirations
To travel to planets and stars
Were crushed by the Void, lost love, and gargoyles
And the Doctor is lonely and scarred.
Not yet wise, I began watching Sherlock
His deduction left me amazed and bamboozled
He and John drank some tea, and solved crimes with glee
Although each case took quite some perusal.
They lived happily with their cool flat decorum
Mrs. Hudson made biscuits below
Then along came the menacing, mean Moriarty
There was nothing that he didn’t know.
Because of the fallacy that Sherlock’s a fake
He’s dead and John’s in the doldrums
The only thing done to commemorate him
Are John’s “I do believe in Sherlock Holmes”
Hoping for a show that was boisterous and happy
Instead of the peaceful, yet sad
I turned to the medieval Merlin
who was quite a cheery lad
He worked for the king’s son, Arthur
who eclectically chose his knights
There were sirs Lancelot, Gwaine, and Leon
The bravest people in sight.
Merlin used his job as camouflage,
His secret he did not divulge
for if they all knew he was a powerful wizard
In his execution King Uther would indulge.
Since Merlin’s destiny was to keep the prince safe
He faced many scary things
He would cower in fear, but when Arthur was near
He felt brave enough to sing
Merlin’s feelings for Arthur were obvious
But does Arthur feel the same way?
When Arthur deigns to exchange dialogue with him
It instantly brightens his day.
But Lancelot died doing Merlin’s job
And Arthur is in love with Gwen
Morgana, a wizard who was once Merlin’s friend
Is evil and wants Camelot dead.
So the Doctor is lonely and growing old
Sherlock left John all alone
And Merlin feels guilty and outcast
They’ve lost all the good they’ve ever known.
And I am left crying and angry.
How could the writers do this to me?
But still, they’re the best shows I’ve ever watched
And I’ll always love the BBC.
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC