"dowse" poems - Hello Poetry

"dowse" poems

You are my morning cup of coffee, My hot, steamy, caffeinated beverage made to wake me up, I sip you, Bitter, Some sugar to cheer you up? I dowse you in vanilla cream… Any better my darling? How come you are so nasty? Not a morning person either? Well I can't blame you, Why do I think I drink so much of you? Because I like you? Well I do,sorta, the effects you bring to me are quite uplifting, I shake, Nervously, Oh you startle me and delight me, I feel comforted as you break open into my bloodstream, My body on fire and ready to start my long and trying day, Maybe we can get through this together, Another cup is what I think I need of you, Whether bitter or not we can make it through, So my little cappuccino, so frothy and frilly, I want you to know that I need you, Like to start my morning, my every morning Whether you are just black, or a venti latte with skim and carmel syrup stirred inside, Or else I be stuck in bed all the time There be no you to keep me awake or alive, No reason to go outside and try, No motivator, no mover, just me living my days on my own, How terribly depressing I must add, So I'll keep you company if you keep on stirring my brain with your caffeinated ways

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Oct 17, 2012

Oct 17, 2012 at 10:55 AM UTC

You are my morning cup of coffee

You are my morning cup of coffee, My hot, steamy, caffeinated beverage made to wake me up, I sip you, Bitter, Some sugar to cheer you up? I dowse you in vanilla cream… Any better my darling? How come you are so nasty? Not a morning person either? Well I can't blame you, Why do I think I drink so much of you? Because I like you? Well I do,sorta, the effects you bring to me are quite uplifting, I shake, Nervously, Oh you startle me and delight me, I feel comforted as you break open into my bloodstream, My body on fire and ready to start my long and trying day, Maybe we can get through this together, Another cup is what I think I need of you, Whether bitter or not we can make it through, So my little cappuccino, so frothy and frilly, I want you to know that I need you, Like to start my morning, my every morning Whether you are just black, or a venti latte with skim and carmel syrup stirred inside, Or else I be stuck in bed all the time There be no you to keep me awake or alive, No reason to go outside and try, No motivator, no mover, just me living my days on my own, How terribly depressing I must add, So I'll keep you company if you keep on stirring my brain with your caffeinated ways

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There is a difference between knowing and understanding. You know how I feel because I have told you; I explain my emotions and you chose to listen. I understand how you feel because I live it. You do not tell me, but I understand exactly the emotions that course through your body and mind and soul. I never chose this. And I never wanted it. When I tell people I am an empathic they mostly roll their eyes. They have no idea what I am talking about, until I touch their skin and relay every emotion of their whole lives. Then they call me freak. But I cannot help it. Anything that feels pain I feel pain for. When your teeth sparkle in laughter's sunlight mine twinkle under the changing moon. When your skin turns searing red with rage mine glows white hot as a smith's hammer. When your lungs burn from submerged depression mine are right there waiting to release their final breathe. There are those who turn and marvel like I am some otherworldly being meant to be shoved in a glass cage and goggled at in a zoo. They tell me it is a gift to understand. To that I say: this world is no utopia. How would you like to see every flaw? How would you like to drown in the ocean of tears? How would you like to experience your skin raw from all the fury? How would you like feel the ragged edges of scars raised as far as they were cut with every curious brush of your fingertips? You wouldn't. This is no gift unless from Hell. In my lifetime I have tried to make it so the world doesn't hurt so that I don't hurt. Now I know; I can't. I can't whip the tears from each child's soft chin. I can't massage the ice from each man's shriveled heart. I can't dowse the flames from each woman's fiery tongue. I can't. The only thing I can do is change my position within this world in an attempt to heal my scars. And I am not sure which soothes my pain more: surrounding myself with those from whom I receive the most sorrow and anger and dread because they understand me; they can help, or engulfing myself within the entourage of those who always smile: to drown out all the pain and push the world aside.

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Jul 4, 2014

Jul 4, 2014 at 1:32 PM UTC

Freak or Empathic

There is a difference between knowing and understanding. You know how I feel because I have told you; I explain my emotions and you chose to listen. I understand how you feel because I live it. You do not tell me, but I understand exactly the emotions that course through your body and mind and soul. I never chose this. And I never wanted it. When I tell people I am an empathic they mostly roll their eyes. They have no idea what I am talking about, until I touch their skin and relay every emotion of their whole lives. Then they call me freak. But I cannot help it. Anything that feels pain I feel pain for. When your teeth sparkle in laughter's sunlight mine twinkle under the changing moon. When your skin turns searing red with rage mine glows white hot as a smith's hammer. When your lungs burn from submerged depression mine are right there waiting to release their final breathe. There are those who turn and marvel like I am some otherworldly being meant to be shoved in a glass cage and goggled at in a zoo. They tell me it is a gift to understand. To that I say: this world is no utopia. How would you like to see every flaw? How would you like to drown in the ocean of tears? How would you like to experience your skin raw from all the fury? How would you like feel the ragged edges of scars raised as far as they were cut with every curious brush of your fingertips? You wouldn't. This is no gift unless from Hell. In my lifetime I have tried to make it so the world doesn't hurt so that I don't hurt. Now I know; I can't. I can't whip the tears from each child's soft chin. I can't massage the ice from each man's shriveled heart. I can't dowse the flames from each woman's fiery tongue. I can't. The only thing I can do is change my position within this world in an attempt to heal my scars. And I am not sure which soothes my pain more: surrounding myself with those from whom I receive the most sorrow and anger and dread because they understand me; they can help, or engulfing myself within the entourage of those who always smile: to drown out all the pain and push the world aside.

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Proud we stand, loftily in our ivory towers Proud we stand, bawling our boasts and feats Proud we stand, on the cold concrete we built In shame, I hung my head, fathoming our “powers” In grief, my quill broke his heart descrying our plight. Humanity bleeds as his ink flows in protean woe Love has lost its world, We estranged her away And the world lost its Love, We chased disarray All the colours in this world have run eerily cold Our eyes fixated on a global monochrome gold To bundles of printed paper, our soul… we sold. Humanity bleeds as his ink flows in protean woe Our vermilion blood has thinned, thinner than wine Onto our gashes, we had to dowse the thickest brine Blinded by rage, we parried the balsam to our souls Yet in an unhesitant grace, traces remain in our bowls Yet... Our calamitous claws yearn to rinse it off us Humanity bleeds as his ink flows in protean woe For an endless pursuit, in an unquenchable thirst, We ****** our heels onto them who cleansed them The hands which held us taut. we mangled them. All for an empty crusade seeking the same black We went rabid, scouring for an immortal fountain The answer was a drop of Love, now unobtainium. Yet I anticipate in the warmth of a spring someday A few dewdrops and a little fountain emerging… Fountain so bountiful in Love, her arrival in glory. That day, my quill shall be healed and his ink resting

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Sep 19, 2021

Sep 19, 2021 at 2:50 AM UTC

The Forsaken Cinders of Love

Proud we stand, loftily in our ivory towers Proud we stand, bawling our boasts and feats Proud we stand, on the cold concrete we built In shame, I hung my head, fathoming our “powers” In grief, my quill broke his heart descrying our plight. Humanity bleeds as his ink flows in protean woe Love has lost its world, We estranged her away And the world lost its Love, We chased disarray All the colours in this world have run eerily cold Our eyes fixated on a global monochrome gold To bundles of printed paper, our soul… we sold. Humanity bleeds as his ink flows in protean woe Our vermilion blood has thinned, thinner than wine Onto our gashes, we had to dowse the thickest brine Blinded by rage, we parried the balsam to our souls Yet in an unhesitant grace, traces remain in our bowls Yet... Our calamitous claws yearn to rinse it off us Humanity bleeds as his ink flows in protean woe For an endless pursuit, in an unquenchable thirst, We ****** our heels onto them who cleansed them The hands which held us taut. we mangled them. All for an empty crusade seeking the same black We went rabid, scouring for an immortal fountain The answer was a drop of Love, now unobtainium. Yet I anticipate in the warmth of a spring someday A few dewdrops and a little fountain emerging… Fountain so bountiful in Love, her arrival in glory. That day, my quill shall be healed and his ink resting

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I knew you once. We walked hand in hand, On roads, Paved with flowers In colors we did not know. We hatched a plan. We were going to start something new, something we had never done before. We’d leave the homes we knew, We’d start over, me and you. We came to find, That we could only walk on flowers for so long, Before they were crushed beneath our wake. So we made, new roads Forged new towns. Raised new cities. Cities became sanctuaries. sanctuaries became nations. Then nations birthed ideals. From ideals grew prejudice From Prejudice grew competition, And in the pyres of faded glory, Chaos overran our kingdom. Riots broke out. Hand in hand We watched As all that we created Was burned to the ground Reduced to rubble And ash The lives that we had started, The people we had fostered, The dreams that we had built, Vanished with the smoke You said that you could fix it You told me not to worry That all would be okay You would rebuild the cities, You told me you had to stay. I returned the way we came, Melted in the safety Of my father’s arms Evaporated in the warmth Of my mother’s gaze Now I watch you from the clouds Fall upon your face Roll down your cheek I am the rain, The river And the storm Let me calm your waters Dowse your fire And keep you warm. I can’t stand To watch you burn like they did.

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Oct 4, 2012

Oct 4, 2012 at 10:57 AM UTC

I knew you once. We walked hand in hand, On roads, Paved with flowers In colors we did not know. We hatched a plan. We were going to start something new, something we had never done before. We’d leave the homes we knew, We’d start over, me and you. We came to find, That we could only walk on flowers for so long, Before they were crushed beneath our wake. So we made, new roads Forged new towns. Raised new cities. Cities became sanctuaries. sanctuaries became nations. Then nations birthed ideals. From ideals grew prejudice From Prejudice grew competition, And in the pyres of faded glory, Chaos overran our kingdom. Riots broke out. Hand in hand We watched As all that we created Was burned to the ground Reduced to rubble And ash The lives that we had started, The people we had fostered, The dreams that we had built, Vanished with the smoke You said that you could fix it You told me not to worry That all would be okay You would rebuild the cities, You told me you had to stay. I returned the way we came, Melted in the safety Of my father’s arms Evaporated in the warmth Of my mother’s gaze Now I watch you from the clouds Fall upon your face Roll down your cheek I am the rain, The river And the storm Let me calm your waters Dowse your fire And keep you warm. I can’t stand To watch you burn like they did.

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Coming down from my volcanic wave Sheet music jukebox requiem Rides down the road Feverish dreams outlast psychedelic trees In the owls and squirrels of light Picking at the vultures of dawn Violent winds of the subatomic youth Puncture through the face of Mona Lisa Take me to the South Pulsating rocket ship boom Left scabs on my eyelids Shifting in the dark to get to the light Killing mr. Grawkus through crucified madness Suffer at the hands of large Industry men Give your money in exchange for life Dream queen pre-madonna smoothie mix Shove down the stones from your funneral pyre Throw off your ***** neon soaked clothes Dowse yourself in the electronic fumes Pulsed beat hammers in the tunnels of consciousness Through the catacombs of breath Inhale deeply the sonic sun light Exhale zombie dust glass shards Dare to call me electric Throw down this scepter of deceit Release yourself from the robes of conceit Never let the sun mock your wiring breath Lightning whiskers pierce the skull Left her tied to the tracks Electronic pumps intravenously Junk sets into the brain Sell your soul for an electro fix Satellites fit themselves into my subconscious Fried blank and numb, gone mad with electricity Show off your bruised face to the sunshine Plastered, baked, and cratered with disgust Do you see how the light bulb strikes on? Where are you with your ravaged home? Peeled back with mechanical angst She cries aloud to the moon

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Mar 2, 2011

Mar 2, 2011 at 3:51 PM UTC

Call Me Electric

Coming down from my volcanic wave Sheet music jukebox requiem Rides down the road Feverish dreams outlast psychedelic trees In the owls and squirrels of light Picking at the vultures of dawn Violent winds of the subatomic youth Puncture through the face of Mona Lisa Take me to the South Pulsating rocket ship boom Left scabs on my eyelids Shifting in the dark to get to the light Killing mr. Grawkus through crucified madness Suffer at the hands of large Industry men Give your money in exchange for life Dream queen pre-madonna smoothie mix Shove down the stones from your funneral pyre Throw off your ***** neon soaked clothes Dowse yourself in the electronic fumes Pulsed beat hammers in the tunnels of consciousness Through the catacombs of breath Inhale deeply the sonic sun light Exhale zombie dust glass shards Dare to call me electric Throw down this scepter of deceit Release yourself from the robes of conceit Never let the sun mock your wiring breath Lightning whiskers pierce the skull Left her tied to the tracks Electronic pumps intravenously Junk sets into the brain Sell your soul for an electro fix Satellites fit themselves into my subconscious Fried blank and numb, gone mad with electricity Show off your bruised face to the sunshine Plastered, baked, and cratered with disgust Do you see how the light bulb strikes on? Where are you with your ravaged home? Peeled back with mechanical angst She cries aloud to the moon

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I will never be enough of a man To dowse my saffron robes In cold gasoline and set it aflame In buddhistic conviction-- My dreams would scamper From my burning head to find another, My flesh would crack and burn Like old parchment In rough palms. I will never be enough of man To eat buckshot out of A hollow cold steely gun My mouth wrapped around the Reaffirming thickness-- My eyes would dart and then close My ears would ring and then collapse Like an old building Consumed in flames. I will never be enough of a man To wrap a rope round my neck And stare blankly ahead To seize the day From God's hands-- My face would bulge My limbs would twitch Like a dying rodent In the throes of cancer. I will always be enough of a man To kiss your lips With my own and feel Your curves in my hands And look at the sun-- My trembling hands falter My eyes can't see to feel for you Like a blind pianist Playing the blues.

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May 13, 2014

May 13, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC

william-crowe-ii

Enough of a man

I will never be enough of a man To dowse my saffron robes In cold gasoline and set it aflame In buddhistic conviction-- My dreams would scamper From my burning head to find another, My flesh would crack and burn Like old parchment In rough palms. I will never be enough of man To eat buckshot out of A hollow cold steely gun My mouth wrapped around the Reaffirming thickness-- My eyes would dart and then close My ears would ring and then collapse Like an old building Consumed in flames. I will never be enough of a man To wrap a rope round my neck And stare blankly ahead To seize the day From God's hands-- My face would bulge My limbs would twitch Like a dying rodent In the throes of cancer. I will always be enough of a man To kiss your lips With my own and feel Your curves in my hands And look at the sun-- My trembling hands falter My eyes can't see to feel for you Like a blind pianist Playing the blues.

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I still feel every touch, every lingering kiss, your body pressed up against mine. I hate it. I hate you.  Nights like this, when it all just comes back, this is when I want to die.  I want to get in the shower and just scrub my skin until I feel clean… But I know it won’t help because this feeling isn’t skin deep. It’s burnt into me.  I want to go and brush my teeth until it hurts and I can’t bear it any more and then keep going just to get your taste out of my mouth… But I know it won’t help because this feeling isn’t skin deep. It’s soaked into me.  I want to go and find that god **** bed and dowse it is gasoline and burn it like the gates of hell… But I know it won’t help because this feeling isn’t an item I can destroy. It’s tattooed in my brain.  I want you to go and find you and make you feel as bad as I do. I want to see you begging in tears for this to go away, and when you are all I’ll say is…. This feeling can’t be taken away.

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Aug 11, 2013

Aug 11, 2013 at 9:01 AM UTC

Nights like this...

I still feel every touch, every lingering kiss, your body pressed up against mine. I hate it. I hate you.  Nights like this, when it all just comes back, this is when I want to die.  I want to get in the shower and just scrub my skin until I feel clean… But I know it won’t help because this feeling isn’t skin deep. It’s burnt into me.  I want to go and brush my teeth until it hurts and I can’t bear it any more and then keep going just to get your taste out of my mouth… But I know it won’t help because this feeling isn’t skin deep. It’s soaked into me.  I want to go and find that god **** bed and dowse it is gasoline and burn it like the gates of hell… But I know it won’t help because this feeling isn’t an item I can destroy. It’s tattooed in my brain.  I want you to go and find you and make you feel as bad as I do. I want to see you begging in tears for this to go away, and when you are all I’ll say is…. This feeling can’t be taken away.

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A haptic response Lightly tactile From something as soft as your breathe As gentle as your eye Tracing lines over me Repainting your memories With laughter As I reorient mine To the curvature of your smile We lie back to back Connected Fingers entwined But not carnal unattached With finality I understand that I now no longer seek What you cannot give My purpose made clear To care for your heart From afar As none but I can Because I dowse and define What this means to me With care for myself I carve away these old memories Destroy the internal shrine Free this heart once entombed By my loss and my fear Unbidden, one perfect tear Traces a salt line to my lips To rest in my smile A haptic response The soft flow of breathe Gently tactile Like love undefined

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May 12, 2017

May 12, 2017 at 9:14 AM UTC

A haptic response Lightly tactile From something as soft as your breathe As gentle as your eye Tracing lines over me Repainting your memories With laughter As I reorient mine To the curvature of your smile We lie back to back Connected Fingers entwined But not carnal unattached With finality I understand that I now no longer seek What you cannot give My purpose made clear To care for your heart From afar As none but I can Because I dowse and define What this means to me With care for myself I carve away these old memories Destroy the internal shrine Free this heart once entombed By my loss and my fear Unbidden, one perfect tear Traces a salt line to my lips To rest in my smile A haptic response The soft flow of breathe Gently tactile Like love undefined

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Gon' drinkin', out behind a Reservoir of good will, with Pillbox eyelids, and third-day dirt. Stumbling, and suddenly sobered By a Queen holding Court Silver-freckled, auburn haired Sweating under the sun Shining on her tee shirt Somewhere, from a secret cigarette Soft-blue silk is rising. Men wearing armor, the color of Christmas lights, stand guard. Invisible, if not for an Incessant rain, insisting on Their silhouettes. Bronze icons, the rubble beneath her. Returned to their birth-site, the Brush and broken glass of a Resin-colored dusk. "If you're having trouble With your next one, it won't be Too hard to light it for you. I know How fast tears can Dowse a needed flame." Still the snow-covered stick of dynamite, and a New stick is now burning, Behind all the bushes. True belief in her Opportunity for rebuttal. Boot prints in the courtyard Press a face that look up at us "Like a cross-between Kurt Cobain and Jesus." Martyrs of a movement Our people fail to understand. Polite to the end, and even Presented with the Crowned homecoming of a higher horizon, she Spins and falls, deliberately sputtering out "Don't let me get smoke in your eye."

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Sep 5, 2014

Sep 5, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC

A Reservoir of Good Will

Gon' drinkin', out behind a Reservoir of good will, with Pillbox eyelids, and third-day dirt. Stumbling, and suddenly sobered By a Queen holding Court Silver-freckled, auburn haired Sweating under the sun Shining on her tee shirt Somewhere, from a secret cigarette Soft-blue silk is rising. Men wearing armor, the color of Christmas lights, stand guard. Invisible, if not for an Incessant rain, insisting on Their silhouettes. Bronze icons, the rubble beneath her. Returned to their birth-site, the Brush and broken glass of a Resin-colored dusk. "If you're having trouble With your next one, it won't be Too hard to light it for you. I know How fast tears can Dowse a needed flame." Still the snow-covered stick of dynamite, and a New stick is now burning, Behind all the bushes. True belief in her Opportunity for rebuttal. Boot prints in the courtyard Press a face that look up at us "Like a cross-between Kurt Cobain and Jesus." Martyrs of a movement Our people fail to understand. Polite to the end, and even Presented with the Crowned homecoming of a higher horizon, she Spins and falls, deliberately sputtering out "Don't let me get smoke in your eye."

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Little girls in tart-bright paint and their brothers with button-ups, colorful shoes. I'll never be that fast. "He" is having a party and his parents will be gone. I could bring the ***** and be well-liked; lying on the carpet in the sticky pot-smoke. Summer spins as the ceiling fan lies still. Still, I'll never be that fast. My neighbors all burst into flame But they're cool enough to dowse themselves.

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Feb 7, 2010

Feb 7, 2010 at 6:33 PM UTC

Little girls in tart-bright paint and their brothers with button-ups, colorful shoes. I'll never be that fast. "He" is having a party and his parents will be gone. I could bring the ***** and be well-liked; lying on the carpet in the sticky pot-smoke. Summer spins as the ceiling fan lies still. Still, I'll never be that fast. My neighbors all burst into flame But they're cool enough to dowse themselves.

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Follow your heart… What heart? The one locked in that box? Sorry, I forgot the combination. I’m keeping it safe because i’m a pyromaniac. I am obsessed with your flames. Dowse me in gasoline and snap that match Poison is you, you and me. Light that cigarette and let the nicotine flow, keep me coming back for more. I’m trapped down here, too weak to climb that rope, too scared.

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Nov 3, 2013

Nov 3, 2013 at 10:17 PM UTC

Follow your heart… What heart? The one locked in that box? Sorry, I forgot the combination. I’m keeping it safe because i’m a pyromaniac. I am obsessed with your flames. Dowse me in gasoline and snap that match Poison is you, you and me. Light that cigarette and let the nicotine flow, keep me coming back for more. I’m trapped down here, too weak to climb that rope, too scared.

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*UDO (means 'peace' in Nigeria) What is in a name? Sometimes it is a story. Sometimes it is just a dream. ~~~~~ Your story began, as many stories do these days, "The men came and they... burned my village- ***** my girls- killed my husband- cut off my ******* I ran away- through the bush- found a ship- crossed the sea- and then they put me in here..." ~~~~~ I read your story, then had to put the book down- especially when I could see the woman with no name, a woman who had no papers to prove she was real, dangling from the rafters, chain gripping her neck in a breathless embrace; her feet swaying showing her nakedness, her paperless demise. You told how she peed herself at the end. Her once life a liquid puddle on the floor. And I couldn't read anymore, her image burned too brightly. Even tears could not ease the realization the cold-chained grip was more loving than living her life, than being forced to return home, facing the way every story began- "the men came and they..." ~~~~~ Your story didn't stop there, it refused to be quiet and held me close, as page after page revealed more of your life; made me question my humanity. ~~~~~ You gave me your secret, whispered it in my ear and asked, "would you cut off your finger for the likes of me"? "Would you dowse the flames of oppression with the redness of your blood?" "Would you fall on the enemies sword, let it rip out your beating heart"? "Would you give your all to change the world"? "Would you, would you?" ~~~~~ You gave me your secret, whispered it in my ear... You gave me your name. You gave me your story and more, you gave me a dream, a reason to live. ~~redzone (Aztec Warrior)1.18.2011 (as you can see, wrote this poem a few years ago using a different pen name)*

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Dec 15, 2015

Dec 15, 2015 at 5:49 PM UTC

*UDO (means 'peace' in Nigeria) What is in a name? Sometimes it is a story. Sometimes it is just a dream. ~~~~~ Your story began, as many stories do these days, "The men came and they... burned my village- ***** my girls- killed my husband- cut off my ******* I ran away- through the bush- found a ship- crossed the sea- and then they put me in here..." ~~~~~ I read your story, then had to put the book down- especially when I could see the woman with no name, a woman who had no papers to prove she was real, dangling from the rafters, chain gripping her neck in a breathless embrace; her feet swaying showing her nakedness, her paperless demise. You told how she peed herself at the end. Her once life a liquid puddle on the floor. And I couldn't read anymore, her image burned too brightly. Even tears could not ease the realization the cold-chained grip was more loving than living her life, than being forced to return home, facing the way every story began- "the men came and they..." ~~~~~ Your story didn't stop there, it refused to be quiet and held me close, as page after page revealed more of your life; made me question my humanity. ~~~~~ You gave me your secret, whispered it in my ear and asked, "would you cut off your finger for the likes of me"? "Would you dowse the flames of oppression with the redness of your blood?" "Would you fall on the enemies sword, let it rip out your beating heart"? "Would you give your all to change the world"? "Would you, would you?" ~~~~~ You gave me your secret, whispered it in my ear... You gave me your name. You gave me your story and more, you gave me a dream, a reason to live. ~~redzone (Aztec Warrior)1.18.2011 (as you can see, wrote this poem a few years ago using a different pen name)*

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*Locks of fire Flowing in the wind Free in spirit Jailed in body Caged phoenix Waiting for peace Thou cage is broken Yet here you still remain Drown your fears No water can dowse thy flame For in this world of fire No rain can fall on thee*

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Aug 8, 2016

Aug 8, 2016 at 6:01 AM UTC

Phoenix of Flight

*Locks of fire Flowing in the wind Free in spirit Jailed in body Caged phoenix Waiting for peace Thou cage is broken Yet here you still remain Drown your fears No water can dowse thy flame For in this world of fire No rain can fall on thee*

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Allow me to look into the eyes of the devil I send a prayer to God that I will only see fire in his eyes and not love. He may take many forms The embodiment of beauty, The disguise of a priest; the holy blessing. Only let me not see love. If life was black and white then explain to me, perfect stranger Why I love the Devil And why he loves me. I am sure if the world was black and white then explain this grey area between light and dark. I have seen ghosts that haunt his house. So shall I embrace the empty shadow of myself and bathe in the supremity of darkness. Or shall I dowse myself in holy water and drag him, all guns blazing from the pit of hell he dug for himself.

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Sep 1, 2014

Sep 1, 2014 at 6:52 PM UTC

Allow me to look into the eyes of the devil I send a prayer to God that I will only see fire in his eyes and not love. He may take many forms The embodiment of beauty, The disguise of a priest; the holy blessing. Only let me not see love. If life was black and white then explain to me, perfect stranger Why I love the Devil And why he loves me. I am sure if the world was black and white then explain this grey area between light and dark. I have seen ghosts that haunt his house. So shall I embrace the empty shadow of myself and bathe in the supremity of darkness. Or shall I dowse myself in holy water and drag him, all guns blazing from the pit of hell he dug for himself.

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I boil alive in the summertime Feel the fields fold within me Vast as our climb I grow restless, grow short These thin winds wring me dry I yearn for heat to dowse my worries Smooth me flat and let me fly Some find displeasure in warmth The thick of the air that mops your neck With the kiss of a season I'd never forget The exhaustion of heat embosses those Who struggle with it so But it lulls you to baste and bake in it's waves As reminder to let the cold go To embrace sinking in with intent clear at mind To assemble, observe With the thoughts left behind The world, it goes covered For months it's at sleep When its ambiance rolls, it just sings, "Watch me be." I know your brain's amuck With the slush of old snow Yet within you holds humidity Thick with memories known.

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Feb 28, 2012

Feb 28, 2012 at 9:36 PM UTC

I boil alive in the summertime Feel the fields fold within me Vast as our climb I grow restless, grow short These thin winds wring me dry I yearn for heat to dowse my worries Smooth me flat and let me fly Some find displeasure in warmth The thick of the air that mops your neck With the kiss of a season I'd never forget The exhaustion of heat embosses those Who struggle with it so But it lulls you to baste and bake in it's waves As reminder to let the cold go To embrace sinking in with intent clear at mind To assemble, observe With the thoughts left behind The world, it goes covered For months it's at sleep When its ambiance rolls, it just sings, "Watch me be." I know your brain's amuck With the slush of old snow Yet within you holds humidity Thick with memories known.

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There is no huge brain inside of my dome, it was replaced with a slow metronome. It doesn't stop moving, just ticking and talking at night I'm out stalking the streets as my mood swings and sways to the beat in my head. Mania? Yeah, the opposite of dead but in depression I'm just hanging to life by a thread. Swinging back and forth with significant force like a ballpeen hammer, hard enough to **** a horse. Like a blunt force trauma bringing nothing but drama, so I tire of the fire and I suffer but whatever but the flames be growin' higher and it's an oil fire so don't be throwing water or it'll just get hotter and roar louder so dowse me with the baking powder, better yet, a better powder, ya got good coke? Can I get some of that snow chucked into my head sometimes the numbness is better than dead. To quote the great Tom Waits "I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy." I'd say I agree. Though at the end of the day it's not up to me.

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Jun 6, 2024

Jun 6, 2024 at 2:42 AM UTC

casey-thomas-mcclain

Mental Metronome

There is no huge brain inside of my dome, it was replaced with a slow metronome. It doesn't stop moving, just ticking and talking at night I'm out stalking the streets as my mood swings and sways to the beat in my head. Mania? Yeah, the opposite of dead but in depression I'm just hanging to life by a thread. Swinging back and forth with significant force like a ballpeen hammer, hard enough to **** a horse. Like a blunt force trauma bringing nothing but drama, so I tire of the fire and I suffer but whatever but the flames be growin' higher and it's an oil fire so don't be throwing water or it'll just get hotter and roar louder so dowse me with the baking powder, better yet, a better powder, ya got good coke? Can I get some of that snow chucked into my head sometimes the numbness is better than dead. To quote the great Tom Waits "I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy." I'd say I agree. Though at the end of the day it's not up to me.

Continue reading...

Precarious crucible A lip on the edge A tumour, a node Surface tension, On thought’s filament Spike of zest Rippling and full of wonder Do I dare poke a hole And admire what’s under? Do I dare incise? A line, a compromise A rift, a drypoint line, The burr is the red sea Above an intense reef Of life and death and Everything in between. A scarlet paradise the visceral eden of the pediatrician’s wall chart that haunts every child’s dream calls out to me as a mortal adult the terror of the dark itches just as much as the urge to pull away the flap and see what light has not yet graced Do I treat my own real estate like someone else’s property And follow noble orders? Or do I cultivate it and Dig for buried treasure? Hunt the beach, search for fossils? Dowse for water? Cleanse the land? Slash and burn? Carve out terraces? I take my knife I plow and explore.

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Mar 23, 2016

Mar 23, 2016 at 1:58 AM UTC

Precarious crucible A lip on the edge A tumour, a node Surface tension, On thought’s filament Spike of zest Rippling and full of wonder Do I dare poke a hole And admire what’s under? Do I dare incise? A line, a compromise A rift, a drypoint line, The burr is the red sea Above an intense reef Of life and death and Everything in between. A scarlet paradise the visceral eden of the pediatrician’s wall chart that haunts every child’s dream calls out to me as a mortal adult the terror of the dark itches just as much as the urge to pull away the flap and see what light has not yet graced Do I treat my own real estate like someone else’s property And follow noble orders? Or do I cultivate it and Dig for buried treasure? Hunt the beach, search for fossils? Dowse for water? Cleanse the land? Slash and burn? Carve out terraces? I take my knife I plow and explore.

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drown me in the ways I wished to feel for so very long. drown me with lyrics and cadenced melodies to strange love songs that so simply define us. drown me with the thoughts in your head; pour them out into my head, and dowse me in the way you feel about the universe, and immerse me in a sea of every feeling you have felt, and describe to me why you are how you are because that is all you really know. and all I know is that I am here, and my fear of drowning is slim to none because I am drowning in you

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Jul 8, 2016

Jul 8, 2016 at 12:20 AM UTC

mikayla-s-lewis

drown me in the ways I wished to feel for so very long. drown me with lyrics and cadenced melodies to strange love songs that so simply define us. drown me with the thoughts in your head; pour them out into my head, and dowse me in the way you feel about the universe, and immerse me in a sea of every feeling you have felt, and describe to me why you are how you are because that is all you really know. and all I know is that I am here, and my fear of drowning is slim to none because I am drowning in you

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The misery in my chest, Reeks as if it be, The shivery shame one feels, When perched before a class-- Of peers whose keener eyes, fitter thoughts, and witter words, Dowse one in distress, For my eyes are weary, My mind unwound, And my words, but a wheezing sound.

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Mar 30, 2025

Mar 30, 2025 at 6:07 PM UTC

An Attempt to Explain a Specific Feeling via Metaphor:

The misery in my chest, Reeks as if it be, The shivery shame one feels, When perched before a class-- Of peers whose keener eyes, fitter thoughts, and witter words, Dowse one in distress, For my eyes are weary, My mind unwound, And my words, but a wheezing sound.

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The tide rises up the sand And it falls back It seems as if it's unmanned Counterattack The tide is inching up now Then slides away It climbs up the sand somehow Never at stay You see just the constant motion Never at a rest The clock of the open ocean The pull then the crest It looks the same, yet different The push the the pull The flat line of the gradient A part of the whole Years later, the water's now higher Near the steps of your house Yet you think the sand must be drier Nothing is under dowse You a small wall up infront the place So the tide never hits Right now, everything's at little haste Danger, it's at a quits Later you notice the house is flooding The tide rolls up and down there Because the wall could stop only nothing The house is just sea and air You think it is smart to move up the hill "Though the tide climbs, it will fall" "The tide will not stay up, but the house will" "When it rises, it will crawl" Later you here the spinning of the cycle The water is always around Now you know it ill never be idle It goes up, but does it come down? You think it can be fixed, something you can do But two homes are there down under So you blame society, partially true But it was also your blunder Finally, at last, you say you can fix it all But you took too long, it is too late Because the ocean is rising with little fall That’s why you hate the one who is late Because only the mountain is left standing dry All life is certainly out of whack You must recede to the only place that is high The tide rises up the sand and doesn't fall back

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Jul 16, 2020

Jul 16, 2020 at 3:01 PM UTC

The tide rises up the sand

The tide rises up the sand And it falls back It seems as if it's unmanned Counterattack The tide is inching up now Then slides away It climbs up the sand somehow Never at stay You see just the constant motion Never at a rest The clock of the open ocean The pull then the crest It looks the same, yet different The push the the pull The flat line of the gradient A part of the whole Years later, the water's now higher Near the steps of your house Yet you think the sand must be drier Nothing is under dowse You a small wall up infront the place So the tide never hits Right now, everything's at little haste Danger, it's at a quits Later you notice the house is flooding The tide rolls up and down there Because the wall could stop only nothing The house is just sea and air You think it is smart to move up the hill "Though the tide climbs, it will fall" "The tide will not stay up, but the house will" "When it rises, it will crawl" Later you here the spinning of the cycle The water is always around Now you know it ill never be idle It goes up, but does it come down? You think it can be fixed, something you can do But two homes are there down under So you blame society, partially true But it was also your blunder Finally, at last, you say you can fix it all But you took too long, it is too late Because the ocean is rising with little fall That’s why you hate the one who is late Because only the mountain is left standing dry All life is certainly out of whack You must recede to the only place that is high The tide rises up the sand and doesn't fall back

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Doctor, please! I have come down with a terrible case, a disease so rare you may have never seen. She grabbed my heart and gave it a long squeeze, I'm having a bit of trouble getting back on my feet. I'd do anything for her so she lives her life with ease. Sing to her, cook for her, and dowse my body in gasoline. Hopefully, soon again I am groovin' to the beat. I just love her so much I've forgotten how to breathe. As she lights the match, I will not scream because her darkness is something I'll never let myself see.

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Aug 17, 2022

Aug 17, 2022 at 12:23 PM UTC

Favorite Person

Doctor, please! I have come down with a terrible case, a disease so rare you may have never seen. She grabbed my heart and gave it a long squeeze, I'm having a bit of trouble getting back on my feet. I'd do anything for her so she lives her life with ease. Sing to her, cook for her, and dowse my body in gasoline. Hopefully, soon again I am groovin' to the beat. I just love her so much I've forgotten how to breathe. As she lights the match, I will not scream because her darkness is something I'll never let myself see.

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Who are you? What makes you feel the need To play me Play my emotions As if you were a violinist? Why do you stare at me With those condescending but kind eyes? You always know just how to make me tick Like a broken clock How do you always have something to say? Something that will make me blush As if my face is a rose garden And that smirk That turns heads everywhere you go And then there is that look The look you give me When the timing is perfect And the chemistry is bubbling Just a glance from you sends electricity up my spine But why don’t you stay? Why do you dowse me in gold and honey and flower petals But then take it all back and walk away Why Why me Why this Why you Why everything If I could i would pull out the love covered arrow you stuck in my heart But then that would just hurt even more.

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Jul 11, 2018

Jul 11, 2018 at 11:17 AM UTC

The worst heartbreak of the year

Who are you? What makes you feel the need To play me Play my emotions As if you were a violinist? Why do you stare at me With those condescending but kind eyes? You always know just how to make me tick Like a broken clock How do you always have something to say? Something that will make me blush As if my face is a rose garden And that smirk That turns heads everywhere you go And then there is that look The look you give me When the timing is perfect And the chemistry is bubbling Just a glance from you sends electricity up my spine But why don’t you stay? Why do you dowse me in gold and honey and flower petals But then take it all back and walk away Why Why me Why this Why you Why everything If I could i would pull out the love covered arrow you stuck in my heart But then that would just hurt even more.

Continue reading...