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Eve Marinier Apr 2017
Love is a single daisy petal,
Left in autumn's windy days,
Let loose, never to settle,
And such a petal rarely lands,

Finally stilled, the petal wanes,
Promises are made, broken, renewed,
Passion fades, its memory remains,
Misplaced in time, remaining skewed,

Inconspicuously, time flows on,
Blowing away bygones, to
Reveal, still standing strong,
A proud flower long obscured from view,

So spring returns, the flower blooms,
New petals reaching out,
To the wind, their dooms,
Until another flower sprouts,
<3 :)
touka Oct 2018
my shadow settles
in a different corner of the world

and his obscures me
content to hang on my frame
shielding any light from my eyes

faith's grievance -
the gravest sin I'd commit
salt to skin

faith's only albatross -
the bits of faith I'd toss
like Ms. Greenwood's dress
into the darkest parts of New York

like I think of my name
winking into the fixed abyss
indifferent to its prior disguise
when it does not leave the lungs enough

and on the height of my fuss,
inspiration flees
like a sour gust through the city at night
- a hint of death
a tinge of it on my hands

the void I fault for its expanse
promises to snarl his shadow from my shoulder
invites me into its limbo
desperately whines my title

it calls with little confidence,
but I linger to step in
flecks of gray interrupting the black
purposeless black

will I?
will I live, wander the world's breadth
with the impetus of two dead legs

or will I become a cry of breath?

I flirt with two dooms,
swinging like a two-phase-moon;
stay, go, stay, go
weighing the whimper of my soul
against brain's drive to die alone
hope - he bends like a lion
like one does to drink
looks into the mirror of my face
he urges; he is thirsty
does so silently
well, I am the stream

who else will drink of me?

as if I am as still and quiet as some water
and I cannot beg access to his lips
for I've none of my own to part
The rigid lust for certainty dooms
impetuous personage.

This is a paperweight life
except for all its dead sea remembering,

and a mouth inside my head saying,
"Just forget what it was like to go to dinner".

Sara Fielder © Dec 2018
Desire Mar 18
Deliverance is not delusional.   No duhh!
Its definite, deliberate, and distinct,
and yours is long overdue!
Boo the damns and dooms.
Fight despite defeat.
Dance with victory.
Finally be free.

I dare you.
Discover divine deliverance
from within, down and deep...

David Bojay Jan 29
Talking to my GoPro as if it were you
Current truths
Diminish the whirling blues
inside my head where you don’t have a clue

out the zoo with my emotions
In the beginning eased it with some sleep
Because I couldn’t see the reasons for my grief
Out the shadows and the light is brief
What to think?
What to know?

The tension is rigorous
Kept inside a pin
Let it sit and sizzle until it’s smoke

Open the vents, and let it go

To seize a chance for peace
Dismantle the layers of myself
Find you in a strip
A memory I’ll always love
My love just don’t lose grip

But to love is to see you free
A peak I couldn’t see
Relief indeed
Let it bleed
Let it bleed

Let it bleed

Consume the dooms
Swallow the distrust
The other side of the moon

The ending will come soon

Sitting in my room

About to make some chicken....
Lets hope this storm blows over
It is looking rather bad
Its really so alarming
When nations get raging mad.

It only takes one foolish move
And all we need is one
Lives could be in Danger
And our planet could be gone.

Looking at the papers
And hearing all the news
It's really not surprising
Why folk drink so much *****.

No need to speak of dooms day
We have heard it all before
Then in these times of warfare
The enemy's at the door.

This storm it may pass over
And it could happen in a flash
Then the fear of it passing
Is the chance it may come back.

Lets hope the nation's all see sense
They have so much to lose
They know the consequences
So what road are they going to choose.
Sometimes we can't help but worry about the stability of this world
With so much friction between nations.
Don Bouchard Jul 1
We trudge the fetid jungle,
Thinking our green way
Must be an overgrown trail.

Dampness pervades our clothing,
Soddens our shoes,
Drips from leafy branches,
Fails to cool us in the tropic heat.

We ascend gingerly,
Hoping for cooler air,
Realizing the immensity of time,
Of memory moving on ahead.

Shrieking birds unseen
Foretell dooms imagined:
Snake and lizard fangs,
Feral creatures' claws and teeth,
Unseen traps waiting to inflict
Sudden deaths or slow.

Silence arrests us,
As we stumble to a cliff,
Gasping for air,
Longing for coolness,
Stopped in our breath as we see....

Climbing the ranges ahead of us,
Above, and arching up and down,
The great dragon's crenelated back
Undulating over the mountain ridges,
Disappearing into the past.
My recollection of seeing the Great Wall of China just outside of Beijing
Dimitris Sarris Nov 2018
Feels wrong,
to be driven out by a lie that dooms hearts and minds.
Does one run away when someone tells lies about him?
No, he fights even if the odds are against him.
It's not about a battle that will be won or lost,
it is about something greater.
A battle for the soul and love that live within us,
perhaps it would be right and proper to be lost
in hell's fire otherwise.
There would be no reason at all to fight only against some
mad men's fantasies.
It's not the dying that frightens me, it's not having stood up
and fight for truth for those i love.
Be Oct 2018
Giant stuffed Pikachu
Sitting alone on the shelf.
It plots all our dooms...
I am currently huddled under the soldering table, trying to hide from its evil gaze. Please send help!!!
Eno Feb 24
Do I project
All my delusional dissatisfaction
Onto you?
Because you’re an easier target to hate
Than the one I love.

If I decide
The blame
Lies at his feet
Then it is a tomb of mine.

I have a troubled mind
That seems to find a
Home in hearts
That do not bear the same capacity as mine
Which dooms me
To forever be locked inside a labyrinth
Chasing something just beyond -
The next corner,
Which I think promises me
All of the wonders my future could deserve;

Children running across the countryside with ribbons in their hair.

It all ends.
Every. Time.
In despair.
I need to let go
I need to try again
To let you be a smokey wisp carried away by the winds

I do not love you
Only my idea of who you could be
Which is like loving a picture
Of a person you’ll never meet
Aditya kumar Jul 28
I lost you
I lost your trust
Everything which was our
Which belonged to us
Yes! I lost you!!

The feeling of love
The passion of being loved
I lost it
Lost the ability of self affinity
Thoughts of future
Paths of life
And way to success
I lost it all

I knew
The fear of losing you
The unpleasant emotion
Which was never expected
But it has to come
And today is the day
The dooms day
Definitely its the part II

The envelope of love
Has its own limits
One day it will burst
It served as a cover to my suffering
It healed me
Yes love affect your inner strength
Sometimes it breaks you hard
And then
It itself helps you
To heal
To heal the wound
Which you never asked for
Ofcourse!! No-one did

Love is not painful
When I'm obsessed with you
It pains when I'm obsessed with me
In the corner of the emptiness
I'm mixing my past to my present
It prisoned me for years
Today my heart hurts
In remembrance of the love
Of you
Yes i lost

I, lost you!!
InRetrospxct May 2018
are we weak ?
is it human to be weak if
we fall to pluck our shrapnel
from the ticking time
but there had to be an art to falling if
in time
nothing will lick the wounds
time had forgotten

maybe we fall to embody
the delicate, crisp, fragility of life
that eventually dooms us
we cannot escape it - but only try
and the little time we have, thus
makes us
human shrapnel
gone with the wind of the universe
off to pierce another’s
wrote this while i was drunk whoops
Ivo Petrović Jul 16
My father dropped his careless seed where my mother wished she'd bleed.

You created what I breathe when your lungs began to heave.

I forgot what life unfurls when I heard your whirling purr.

I unveiled your place of birth when my gaze derailed from Earth.

In the stream above the hills, dreams the gleam your lifeblood spills.

Counting decades down your braids, I invade your rounded jades with a gaze you've made cascade.

How you drown my sunken tortures with a frown of drunken fortune.

My lies die between your thighs, in the sighs that close my eyes.

The violins of silver inns shiver hymns of our sins.

The privateers on piers of tears cheer our fear of nearing years.

You imprisoned all my seasons with a year of untold reasons.
__________           ____

We were forged where angels gorge to be carved where devils starve.

Why'd you dose your prose morose to the bard who tarred your shards?

From divisions of your lips, I've received incision's kiss.

With ardent hips of fervent current, the errant serpent grips her servant.

All I brought was thought for naught when your rot became outwrought.

From the pond where I abscond, I watched the botching of our bond.

Every breath deployed to drown when you left devoid of frowns.

For the throne of humming bones, I've condoned becoming yours.

I am sworn to mourn and scorn every thorn that had us torn.

I have claimed the maiming blame for games of shame that gave us names.

All my zest, betrayed and rotten, in a chest remains forgotten.

We transcend repentant lows to embrace resplendent woes.

In the pool that holds your tears, drools the fool who stole my years.
__________           _____

The violins of her violence weaved the bindings of my silence.

I forgave her what she lacked with the fervor of my ax.

She used to have me broken hoping till I split her forehead open.

I forgot to leave her soul where her torso's open cold.

Now she blends my lips serene with the hands I've cut off clean.

The refrains of all my poems, now engraved on bullets chrome, in her skull remain alone.

Derelict, her tongue disdains, with my lick on her remains.

I resent the way her scent invents consent to my lament.

My mouth consumes the fumes she tombs to spout the dooms that loom unwombed.

I've divorced the nasal morse forced to course from out her corpse.

Now the tree that held our names roots around her welded grave.

On the hill where we once kissed, she now sleeps beneath the mist.

Even now she laughs at me, with her shafts forever sealed.

Dark and darker, her darkened barker, marks her tomb a layer harder.
__________           ______

My bride rides the tired tide, where our breaths by death divide.

She enjoys the rhymes I ferry from our time to where she's buried.

I have drained all waters spent where her face could not reflect.

I still hide my drying cry where our prides would once collide.

I demand her lifeless hands to once again caress my tan.

I've repieced her fleeting fleece of the fleas that tease my peace.

Like a dog, I found my god, in the fog where she once trod.

I begin where grins of skin create the sins she used to sing.

I've become the barren baron
of a fortress with no forces
leading my stampeding legions
to find their feet in my defeat.
This is not a poem.

It is a diary.

A little story project of mine, in which the parts are separated by the straight lines.

The story is told through individual entries about her in his journal - individual thoughts describing a certain stage of the man's descent into madness.
To Henry St. John, Lord Bolingbroke
Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things
To low ambition, and the pride of kings.
Let us (since life can little more supply
Than just to look about us and to die)
Expatiate free o'er all this scene of man;
A mighty maze! but not without a plan;
A wild, where weeds and flow'rs promiscuous shoot;
Or garden, tempting with forbidden fruit.
Together let us beat this ample field,
Try what the open, what the covert yield;
The latent tracts, the giddy heights explore
Of all who blindly creep, or sightless soar;
Eye Nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies,
And catch the manners living as they rise;
Laugh where we must, be candid where we can;
But vindicate the ways of God to man.

Say first, of God above, or man below,
What can we reason, but from what we know?
Of man what see we, but his station here,
From which to reason, or to which refer?
Through worlds unnumber'd though the God be known,
'Tis ours to trace him only in our own.
He, who through vast immensity can pierce,
See worlds on worlds compose one universe,
Observe how system into system runs,
What other planets circle other suns,
What varied being peoples ev'ry star,
May tell why Heav'n has made us as we are.
But of this frame the bearings, and the ties,
The strong connections, nice dependencies,
Gradations just, has thy pervading soul
Look'd through? or can a part contain the whole?

Is the great chain, that draws all to agree,
And drawn supports, upheld by God, or thee?

Presumptuous man! the reason wouldst thou find,
Why form'd so weak, so little, and so blind?
First, if thou canst, the harder reason guess,
Why form'd no weaker, blinder, and no less!
Ask of thy mother earth, why oaks are made
Taller or stronger than the weeds they shade?
Or ask of yonder argent fields above,
Why Jove's satellites are less than Jove?

Of systems possible, if 'tis confest
That Wisdom infinite must form the best,
Where all must full or not coherent be,
And all that rises, rise in due degree;
Then, in the scale of reas'ning life, 'tis plain
There must be somewhere, such a rank as man:
And all the question (wrangle e'er so long)
Is only this, if God has plac'd him wrong?

Respecting man, whatever wrong we call,
May, must be right, as relative to all.
In human works, though labour'd on with pain,
A thousand movements scarce one purpose gain;
In God's, one single can its end produce;
Yet serves to second too some other use.
So man, who here seems principal alone,
Perhaps acts second to some sphere unknown,
Touches some wheel, or verges to some goal;
'Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.

When the proud steed shall know why man restrains
His fiery course, or drives him o'er the plains:
When the dull ox, why now he breaks the clod,
Is now a victim, and now Egypt's God:
Then shall man's pride and dulness comprehend
His actions', passions', being's, use and end;
Why doing, suff'ring, check'd, impell'd; and why
This hour a slave, the next a deity.

Then say not man's imperfect, Heav'n in fault;
Say rather, man's as perfect as he ought:
His knowledge measur'd to his state and place,
His time a moment, and a point his space.
If to be perfect in a certain sphere,
What matter, soon or late, or here or there?
The blest today is as completely so,
As who began a thousand years ago.

Heav'n from all creatures hides the book of fate,
All but the page prescrib'd, their present state:
From brutes what men, from men what spirits know:
Or who could suffer being here below?
The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed today,
Had he thy reason, would he skip and play?
Pleas'd to the last, he crops the flow'ry food,
And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood.
Oh blindness to the future! kindly giv'n,
That each may fill the circle mark'd by Heav'n:
Who sees with equal eye, as God of all,
A hero perish, or a sparrow fall,
Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd,
And now a bubble burst, and now a world.

Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar;
Wait the great teacher Death; and God adore!
What future bliss, he gives not thee to know,
But gives that hope to be thy blessing now.
Hope springs eternal in the human breast:
Man never is, but always to be blest:
The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.

Lo! the poor Indian, whose untutor'd mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;
His soul, proud science never taught to stray
Far as the solar walk, or milky way;
Yet simple nature to his hope has giv'n,
Behind the cloud-topt hill, an humbler heav'n;
Some safer world in depth of woods embrac'd,
Some happier island in the wat'ry waste,
Where slaves once more their native land behold,
No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold.
To be, contents his natural desire,
He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire;
But thinks, admitted to that equal sky,
His faithful dog shall bear him company.

Go, wiser thou! and, in thy scale of sense
Weigh thy opinion against Providence;
Call imperfection what thou fanciest such,
Say, here he gives too little, there too much:
Destroy all creatures for thy sport or gust,
Yet cry, if man's unhappy, God's unjust;
If man alone engross not Heav'n's high care,
Alone made perfect here, immortal there:
****** from his hand the balance and the rod,
Rejudge his justice, be the God of God.
In pride, in reas'ning pride, our error lies;
All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies.
Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes,
Men would be angels, angels would be gods.
Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell,
Aspiring to be angels, men rebel:
And who but wishes to invert the laws
Of order, sins against th' Eternal Cause.

Ask for what end the heav'nly bodies shine,
Earth for whose use? Pride answers, " 'Tis for mine:
For me kind Nature wakes her genial pow'r,
Suckles each herb, and spreads out ev'ry flow'r;
Annual for me, the grape, the rose renew,
The juice nectareous, and the balmy dew;
For me, the mine a thousand treasures brings;
For me, health gushes from a thousand springs;
Seas roll to waft me, suns to light me rise;
My foot-stool earth, my canopy the skies."

But errs not Nature from this gracious end,
From burning suns when livid deaths descend,
When earthquakes swallow, or when tempests sweep
Towns to one grave, whole nations to the deep?
"No, ('tis replied) the first Almighty Cause
Acts not by partial, but by gen'ral laws;
Th' exceptions few; some change since all began:
And what created perfect?"—Why then man?
If the great end be human happiness,
Then Nature deviates; and can man do less?
As much that end a constant course requires
Of show'rs and sunshine, as of man's desires;
As much eternal springs and cloudless skies,
As men for ever temp'rate, calm, and wise.
If plagues or earthquakes break not Heav'n's design,
Why then a Borgia, or a Catiline?
Who knows but he, whose hand the lightning forms,
Who heaves old ocean, and who wings the storms,
Pours fierce ambition in a Cæsar's mind,
Or turns young Ammon loose to scourge mankind?
From pride, from pride, our very reas'ning springs;
Account for moral, as for nat'ral things:
Why charge we Heav'n in those, in these acquit?
In both, to reason right is to submit.

Better for us, perhaps, it might appear,
Were there all harmony, all virtue here;
That never air or ocean felt the wind;
That never passion discompos'd the mind.
But ALL subsists by elemental strife;
And passions are the elements of life.
The gen'ral order, since the whole began,
Is kept in nature, and is kept in man.

What would this man? Now upward will he soar,
And little less than angel, would be more;
Now looking downwards, just as griev'd appears
To want the strength of bulls, the fur of bears.
Made for his use all creatures if he call,
Say what their use, had he the pow'rs of all?
Nature to these, without profusion, kind,
The proper organs, proper pow'rs assign'd;
Each seeming want compensated of course,
Here with degrees of swiftness, there of force;
All in exact proportion to the state;
Nothing to add, and nothing to abate.
Each beast, each insect, happy in its own:
Is Heav'n unkind to man, and man alone?
Shall he alone, whom rational we call,
Be pleas'd with nothing, if not bless'd with all?

The bliss of man (could pride that blessing find)
Is not to act or think beyond mankind;
No pow'rs of body or of soul to share,
But what his nature and his state can bear.
Why has not man a microscopic eye?
For this plain reason, man is not a fly.
Say what the use, were finer optics giv'n,
T' inspect a mite, not comprehend the heav'n?
Or touch, if tremblingly alive all o'er,
To smart and agonize at ev'ry pore?
Or quick effluvia darting through the brain,
Die of a rose in aromatic pain?
If nature thunder'd in his op'ning ears,
And stunn'd him with the music of the spheres,
How would he wish that Heav'n had left him still
The whisp'ring zephyr, and the purling rill?
Who finds not Providence all good and wise,
Alike in what it gives, and what denies?

Far as creation's ample range extends,
The scale of sensual, mental pow'rs ascends:
Mark how it mounts, to man's imperial race,
From the green myriads in the peopled grass:
What modes of sight betwixt each wide extreme,
The mole's dim curtain, and the lynx's beam:
Of smell, the headlong lioness between,
And hound sagacious on the tainted green:
Of hearing, from the life that fills the flood,
To that which warbles through the vernal wood:
The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine!
Feels at each thread, and lives along the line:
In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true
From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew:
How instinct varies in the grov'lling swine,
Compar'd, half-reas'ning elephant, with thine:
'Twixt that, and reason, what a nice barrier;
For ever sep'rate, yet for ever near!
Remembrance and reflection how allied;
What thin partitions sense from thought divide:
And middle natures, how they long to join,
Yet never pass th' insuperable line!
Without this just gradation, could they be
Subjected, these to those, or all to thee?
The pow'rs of all subdu'd by thee alone,
Is not thy reason all these pow'rs in one?

See, through this air, this ocean, and this earth,
All matter quick, and bursting into birth.
Above, how high, progressive life may go!
Around, how wide! how deep extend below!
Vast chain of being, which from God began,
Natures ethereal, human, angel, man,
Beast, bird, fish, insect! what no eye can see,
No glass can reach! from infinite to thee,
From thee to nothing!—On superior pow'rs
Were we to press, inferior might on ours:
Or in the full creation leave a void,
Where, one step broken, the great scale's destroy'd:
From nature's chain whatever link you strike,
Tenth or ten thousandth, breaks the chain alike.

And, if each system in gradation roll
Alike essential to th' amazing whole,
The least confusion but in one, not all
That system only, but the whole must fall.
Let earth unbalanc'd from her orbit fly,
Planets and suns run lawless through the sky;
Let ruling angels from their spheres be hurl'd,
Being on being wreck'd, and world on world;
Heav'n's whole foundations to their centre nod,
And nature tremble to the throne of God.
All this dread order break—for whom? for thee?
Vile worm!—Oh madness, pride, impiety!

What if the foot ordain'd the dust to tread,
Or hand to toil, aspir'd to be the head?
What if the head, the eye, or ear repin'd
To serve mere engines to the ruling mind?
Just as absurd for any part to claim
To be another, in this gen'ral frame:
Just as absurd, to mourn the tasks or pains,
The great directing Mind of All ordains.

All are but parts of one stupendous whole,
Whose body Nature is, and God the soul;
That, chang'd through all, and yet in all the same,
Great in the earth, as in th' ethereal frame,
Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees,
Lives through all life, extends through all extent,
Spreads undivided, operates unspent,
Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part,
As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart;
As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns,
As the rapt seraph that adores and burns;
To him no high, no low, no great, no small;
He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.

Cease then, nor order imperfection name:
Our proper bliss depends on what we blame.
Know thy own point: This kind, this due degree
Of blindness, weakness, Heav'n bestows on thee.
Submit.—In this, or any other sphere,
Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear:
Safe in the hand of one disposing pow'r,
Or in the natal, or the mortal hour.
All nature is but art, unknown to thee;
All chance, direction, which thou canst not see;
All discord, harmony, not understood;
All partial evil, universal good:
And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite,
One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right.
Vellichor Jun 13

Deep within my mind
Deep within my soul
I can’t seem to find
This heart’s gaping hole

And my hope’s leaking
I hear it drip drop
So I plug my ears
But it just won’t stop

The sound, it haunts me
It rings in my ears
It puts a voice to
All my greatest fears

Because what happens
When the last drop falls
I’m terrified of
Where my heart will crawl

To the depths of the seas
To addiction’s pull
Drowning in emptiness
Desperate to be full

And still it drip drops
It’s ghastly refrain
Dooms my soul
And tortures my brain

I miss the old days
Back before this life cut
Gaping holes in my heart
And bleeding wounds in my gut

But drip drop drip drop
My time is running out
My last days with hope
Soon I’ll live without

I’ll learn how to breathe
With my lungs void of air
Who ever said that
This life was fair

So I’ll listen in pain
Because my fate was sealed
The moment I realized
This heart can’t be healed


— The End —