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"driven" poems
Bound by flesh; we are, oblivious to our minds, chemical reactions. Enamored with desire, our bodies collide, driven by our actions. Engrossed by lust; thirsty. The primal rush; the absolute of attraction Prisoners of our passions. animal instincts of human nature; our habits we fashion.
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Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 11:14 PM UTC
Entrapment
My love is vast. My love is strong. My love is driven by the thought of you noticing me one day. Although I am told that some love never blooms like flowers struggling during the bitter colds. I have nothing to offer you. All I have are my bones. They hold me up on days I feel like a bird with broken wings, but I will always love you with the lights on. I will care for your wounds until you're able to fly again. Until you can reach the moon. So play your guitar and sing your songs. I will admire you from afar as you carry on. Don't worry about me. I'm not trying to come off as a creep but I love your eyes, and how they look like dark coffee. I love the way you speak. Each word a melody. Every sentence a song. I'm caught on your hook. I could listen all day long. I'm lost in your music while you're lost in this madness. So don't worry my dear, the flowers will someday bloom. I shall save these words for you. I'll read them out to you, but only once during the blue moon. You're a sweetheart and a really brave bird. So walk with me to the edge of the earth and I will share you all my secrets, and you will share me yours. We'll tie them both to balloons and let them go. Lay with me down on this pearly dew-drop grass. We'll watch the clouds travel to and fro, just stay with me in this perfect spot. You don't have to go.
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Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 7:08 PM UTC
You're A Sweetheart and A Really Brave Bird
For years my heart was guarded, protected from the world. But somehow you have disarmed me, opened and unfurled. You’ve taken me, broken and damaged, mishandled and hurled . Yet you see me as delicate and dainty, so precious and pearled. Everything’s not perfect but it sure is beautiful here. Your smile so bright with a voice I just love to hear. Your touch, so gentle I just want to have you near. I love your energy and your presence, you make everyone else disappear. He has captured my trust and that’s something not easily given. He has made all my worries forgotten and all of my heartache is forgiven. His mission was to win my heart and made his goal clear, he was driven. After plenty of chances to earn my trust, I’d finally decided to give in. I feel so loved, so valued, so cared for so protected. He has won me over and I doubt I’ll ever regret it. To a man who truly cares for me and satisfies my every need. For you have saved me from my darkness, and my heart you have freed.
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Jul 11, 2021
Jul 11, 2021 at 6:27 PM UTC
Rescued
The sky above me, closed in as the dark, ominous yet fascinating rainclouds have driven near, gathering together in a council. As it begins to drizzle, soft, warm and little raindrops, fall in line, gently, carelessly hitting the earth, moistening it in their line. Once in a while, as the rain gains its strengh, hitting the ground below with more speed and roughlessness in their action, Rays of the purest light, sent by the sun as it shines above the darkening sky, a sensation for ones optic nerv, a sensation for the eye, make it through and let this scene shine further more. Graceful drops, carrried and distorted by the majestic wind, Create a lovely melody on my window, as they one by one fly into it. Now as the soil is fertilised, life will surely grow from the sunlight. Alike the raindrops are carried by the wind, my mind engages with this scene, lets me fall in love with this beautiful earth. A little rain shall not be the cause of sadness, as it truly is a reminder of the moments of love wich it makes easier to determine. So I keep my gaze out of the window and enjoy the weather Until then, the sky clears up and the sun shines again. ~ Umi
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Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 5:19 PM UTC
The Rain
Can I drown in the sweet sorrow of your passion? Bask in the drips of your essence and savor your liquid ecstasy. Stare in awe at the contours of your body as it bends to my very will. Making you feel as real as this fantasy world we have thrusted ourselves into. Your soft whimpers caresses my ears as our spirits are driven by their own Heaven and Hell. The rapid movements of your ribcage soothes my ravenous soul as our bodies intertwine with each other. The aroma of our mixture captivates my subconscience as we're climbing towards your highest peak. Your petite thighs clenching onto my physique build as the wave of nirvana overpowers your psyche. She slowly drifts away from our fantasy world, leaving me here to dwell on her forsaken sorrow. My body yearns to hear your voice in the endless darkness as it awaits for your return. Can I cross the threshold into your garden of Eden one last time?
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May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 4:13 AM UTC
Soul Quest
From one thousand mountains the hawks flights are gone Soaring freely & thinking clearly through the clouds in the sky Not looking back persevering to fulfill the dreams The dreams aren't solely an illusion in the mind But a preview of future times For the reality in the hawks mind is dreams of happiness Clashing between difficulty & a paradox of what is seen & what is not seen What is believed has 20/20 vision A clear sight with no eyeballs But a driven mind with great visual Anticipating the future of success Feeling blessed and alleviating stress Persevering and passing all the tests What lies is the wind which is the past Securing things of desire at last Achievement is a good friend Resulting in a fulfilled end. . .
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Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
Connoisseur of Dreams
“Being a farmer is like being a priest; you take a vow of poverty and make a pact with the Lord that no typhoon will come and destroy your crops.” In the rise of sedentary human civilization, The nation’s agriculture Became the key expansion. Its history dates back thousands of years, With its development, Has been driven and defined – By different climates, cultures, and technologies. The Filipino farmers: Are they now a dying breed? Numbers of small farms has dwindled, With workers opting for city life. But this trend could exacerbate food insecurity! Yes, in an import-dependent country – Already struggling to meet current food demand. In the face of growing losses, And from volatile weather, To new-fangled farming tech, Limited education makes them less receptive. What took such toll on the agricultural sector? Maybe the farmer themselves, The investors, the buyers – maybe. Now, it’s due to the government policies, Our programs are good, yet so weak. There’s excessive reliance on agricultural imports, And corruption on the upper level. Compounding the problem Is a younger generation – Largely, leaving rural areas nationwide, And depleting the pool of potential agricultural workers. They say it’s too late to do something; But the mind-set of the younger generation Still we can change And make farming appealing once again. (9/8/13 @xirlleelang)
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
A Dying Filipino Breed
I want to make love with you wildly, savagely, viciously insatiable need crowds out all thought except for how you feel to me it's more than lustful carnal craving raw passions threaten to explode we're one, together in that moment senses burning, overload hearts pounding, muscles shaking salty sweat, bodies aching driven into breathless frenzy release, that moment stopped in time once more, to feel that you are mine
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May 19, 2012
May 19, 2012 at 4:14 AM UTC
**********
# *This coup A new nation Loyal dedication Its classification* ‘Species procreation’ Prevents us from facing A human cessation selective mutation Gestation Creation It may help explaining The reasons Behaving *But not the foundation Or actions We’re basing* A simplification is “continuation” A checkbox left vacant *Fulfillment We’re chasing* We sweat Eyes are gazing A slight palpitation In need of hydration Complete excitation Without hesitation Intense stimulation **Deep urges Heart racing** *Driven By sensations* **Unbounded fixation Pelvic Undulations Clothing Perforations Time no longer wasting** ***This capitulation a Sanctification ****** gyrations Hint of *********** The bedroom Safe haven For what we are craving *Once out and displaying* It all had been taken Before Feeling vacant Freed imagination A resuscitation Indulged depravation A rhythm we’re setting The giving and getting **Destroying the bedding** All else I’m forgetting Entwined with each other Like entangled netting *Both on the same trip In a unified heading* Now comes the summation A true Revelation Final culmination Smash all expectations ***Volcanic eruption*** That lasts the duration **Loud gasp We unlock** Filled with gratification #
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Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 3:19 AM UTC
Undulated Desires
There are some things I want to say to you. First off I will never ever make our child think less of you, no matter how your role in their life plays out. I will always tell them that their father is an amazing man. Ambitious, hard working, driven by his passions. I'll look at them with tears in my eyes as I rock them to sleep telling them all the reasons I love you. I will always make sure that our child doesn't feel abandoned. I understand I am a single mother. I have to rely on myself to raise this child and that's okay. Please know that while I may be some backwards farm town girl who runs around barefoot eating with my fingers I will be an amazing mother. One who will not be afraid to get messy. One who will pretend to be every super hero, cartoons character and farm animal there is. I will try my best to always make our child smile, but there will be days when I can't and I hope that when that day comes I'm strong enough to help hold some of their worries on my shoulders. You see this child may be unplanned for however even as just a small raspberry in my stomach I refuse to ever think of this child as unwanted or unloved. My entire life revolves around what is best for my child now. That's okay. So please just know. We will be alright. We will survive. We will always accept you into our lives.
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Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
Dear father of my unborn child.
Depression is hard to understand. The dictionary naively refers to it as, "feelings of severe despondency and dejection." But what does the dictionary know about depression? I think depression is more complicated than that. But I don't quite know what that consists of. I've been trying to figure it out for months now, and I just can't seem to understand. I don't know what depression is, but I can tell you what it's not. Depression is not polite. Depression doesn't knock before he barges in. He just lets himself in, unannounced and unexpected, and leaves me gasping for what little air is left in the room. Depression isn't clean. He doesn't tidy up after he makes a mess. He comes into my life like a hurricane, and leaves me to pick up the crumbled pieces of my rubbled life. Depression isn't moral. He steals my happiness and kills my spirit. He doesn't abide by any common rules or laws, he makes his own rules and I have to play by them. Depression isn't popular. The only "friends" he has are his victims. He drags me away from everyone who used to love me, and leaves me isolated in a cold, dark place. Depression isn't respectful. He claws his way into the lives of so many genuine people and drives them to the brink of insanity. He has no regard for my thoughts or my feelings, stomping all over me until there's nothing decent left to salvage. Depression isn't creative. He tells you everything as it is and makes you see all of the terrible things poisoning the world. He doesn't sugarcoat the truth, no matter how much it hurts, and he helped me clearly see even my smallest of flaws. Depression isn't nice. He calls me ugly and tells me I'm worthless. The words he whispers ring in my ears: **** yourself, **** yourself, **** yourself." It's hard to define depression. It doesn't fit into a small box. I've practically driven myself crazy trying to figure out what it is and why this is happening to me. I don't understand depression, and no matter how hard I try to define it, I always fall short. I don't know if depression can ever be defined. While I try aimlessly to define the undefinable, depression ruthlessly takes advantage of me. I can try as much as I'd like, but I don't define depression, depression defines me.
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Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 7:05 PM UTC
Defining Depression
Depression is hard to understand. The dictionary naively refers to it as, "feelings of severe despondency and dejection." But what does the dictionary know about depression? I think depression is more complicated than that. But I don't quite know what that consists of. I've been trying to figure it out for months now, and I just can't seem to understand. I don't know what depression is, but I can tell you what it's not. Depression is not polite. Depression doesn't knock before he barges in. He just lets himself in, unannounced and unexpected, and leaves me gasping for what little air is left in the room. Depression isn't clean. He doesn't tidy up after he makes a mess. He comes into my life like a hurricane, and leaves me to pick up the crumbled pieces of my rubbled life. Depression isn't moral. He steals my happiness and kills my spirit. He doesn't abide by any common rules or laws, he makes his own rules and I have to play by them. Depression isn't popular. The only "friends" he has are his victims. He drags me away from everyone who used to love me, and leaves me isolated in a cold, dark place. Depression isn't respectful. He claws his way into the lives of so many genuine people and drives them to the brink of insanity. He has no regard for my thoughts or my feelings, stomping all over me until there's nothing decent left to salvage. Depression isn't creative. He tells you everything as it is and makes you see all of the terrible things poisoning the world. He doesn't sugarcoat the truth, no matter how much it hurts, and he helped me clearly see even my smallest of flaws. Depression isn't nice. He calls me ugly and tells me I'm worthless. The words he whispers ring in my ears: **** yourself, **** yourself, **** yourself." It's hard to define depression. It doesn't fit into a small box. I've practically driven myself crazy trying to figure out what it is and why this is happening to me. I don't understand depression, and no matter how hard I try to define it, I always fall short. I don't know if depression can ever be defined. While I try aimlessly to define the undefinable, depression ruthlessly takes advantage of me. I can try as much as I'd like, but I don't define depression, depression defines me.
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I climbed slowly, slowly on the mount of aspirations, On        succint        savoury        dreams, As i see the success peaking from thousand miles above. I grip the cold stone tighter, harder, My passion, my hardwork, As i swiftly float from    the   ground. Snowy zephyrs of laze and evil, Reign against me, trying to break my hold. Yet the fire of my determination, Still burns within. My thick woolen coat hugs me tight, My faith, my values, Protecting me from the blizzards of jealousy, vile, As i wind my way upwards. A glance backwards, And the horrid past knocks on the veins of my sullen heart, Yet this soul will give up no more. The weary body, driven by heraculous force, through the steep slopes of time, Against enormous storms and stints, With an armour of patience, Finds itself on dome of success. Ah! fleeting moments of unscathed bliss, Enamour for success, And it's sweet sweet honey. That slowly melts in my heart, On top of the mountain, Where everything is freezing. From the top, the hardwork, the giant path looks small, As the heart prepares to climb, Another                              mountain.
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May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 2:09 PM UTC
The Journey to Success
I am the ****** Singer of songs, Dancer... Softer than fluff of cotton... Harder than dark earth Roads beaten in the sun By the bare feet of slaves... Foam of teeth... breaking crash of laughter... Red love of the blood of woman, White love of the tumbling pickaninnies... Lazy love of the banjo thrum... Sweated and driven for the harvest-wage, Loud laughter with hands like hams, Fists toughened on the handles, Smiling the slumber dreams of old jungles, Crazy as the sun and dew and dripping, heaving life of the jungle, Brooding and muttering with memories of shackles: I am the ****** Look at me. I am the ******
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17.4k
******
We know the world is a crazy place and that is it easy to give up, throw in the towel. The idealism of youth gives way to the cynicism of middle age when we realize that despite our best efforts, change is very difficult. To be a parent and, in particular, to be a father....why bother? Some say fatherhood is driven by ego, the child providing the ultimate selfish representation of oneself. Others say driven by fear, the fear of mortality and the unconscious and genetic need to propagate and maintain our lineage, our species, our world. While both can be true, I believe the best manifestation of fatherhood is  driven by tikkun olam, a Jewish concept that we all have an obligation to better the world, to move it to a better state than currently exists. We do what we can when on this earth to love our family, friends, and be as righteous as this world will allow. Our genetic legacy is not nearly as important as our obligation to pass on what we know, have learned, have experienced, and enable our children to carry the mission to an always higher level. No matter what our belief in the afterlife, and what the future may hold we are here now in THIS life, and as long as we move the ball further and further in the right direction, there can be hope. Truly being a father, a good father, enables hope.  Maybe that is enough.
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Jun 19, 2011
Jun 19, 2011 at 7:17 AM UTC
Fatherhood is Hope
Rise and shine, first thing in the morning walking past the mirror. Avoiding its reflection, not wanting to see its reflective picture. Kneeling in the shower, hands pressed tightly to her ribs.   Who is this frightened child?  Does she even exist?   She took a step back from the world, no one knew she was alive.   Now she’s grasping at her life, just trying to survive. A tainted childhood in shame now fragile bones from self abuse, don’t blame her though, she was only a child confused.   How did this happen?  When did this begin?   She seemed so happy, or was that all pretend?   She had started at 130, or so, but felt as if she had lost control. What happened to this dear sweet innocent child?   Her idea of beauty and perfection had driven her wild. Minus 25 later she was so close.   Almost 100 without any clothes.   No one would touch her, they thought she would break.   She told herself she was content with that trade. I was 18. ~ I’m much better now in my adult discipline eating healthy 3 meals a day purely for consumption.   Yesterday, I skipped dinner in lieu of drinking wine. Today at noon, hovering over my breakfast, I resign Some days I struggle. Some days I am not fine. But ... I will eat my breakfast, lunch and dinner. And paint my pretty pictures.
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Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 2:01 PM UTC
Eat, Drink and Paint
I rolled out of bed to start my day, but the power was off my all electric home, as still as a grave. No coffee, or toast. The refrigerator not cold, the freezer started dripping the contents soon to spoil. No computer, no cell phone service! I began sweating profusely, no air conditioning to cool me. Not even a TV Emergency Broadcast Alert, to release this uneasy feeling of topsy-turvy . I drove into town seeking a pay phone, with not a single one to be found, gone the way of the dinosaurs, extinct now too I assumed. My old truck had no computer chips, most cars did and were dead in their tracks. I needed gas but the gas station pumps electric computer driven, all DOA to boot. The Nations electric grid had crashed, blacked out, stone cold dead everywhere. All heavenly satellites blacked out, expired. Everything computer related (and that is about everything), had ceased to function as had the electronic reliant world we had created.   The street throngs of dazed people walked around like zombies, clutching blacked out dead computer devices, knowing not what to do. Not even talking, forgotten I guess how to do that too. As dependently defectively programmed as the useless devices in their hands. In a panic I did awake finding that this scary dream world was indeed all fake, a nightmare of fearful unconscious thinking. My electric clock was still churning, It's music alarm blaring, birds outside still singing, my cell phone started ringing, it was merely another Robot call, Welcoming me back to the 21 century.
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Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 10:51 PM UTC
Dinosaurs and Devices
I rolled out of bed to start my day, but the power was off my all electric home, as still as a grave. No coffee, or toast. The refrigerator not cold, the freezer started dripping the contents soon to spoil. No computer, no cell phone service! I began sweating profusely, no air conditioning to cool me. Not even a TV Emergency Broadcast Alert, to release this uneasy feeling of topsy-turvy . I drove into town seeking a pay phone, with not a single one to be found, gone the way of the dinosaurs, extinct now too I assumed. My old truck had no computer chips, most cars did and were dead in their tracks. I needed gas but the gas station pumps electric computer driven, all DOA to boot. The Nations electric grid had crashed, blacked out, stone cold dead everywhere. All heavenly satellites blacked out, expired. Everything computer related (and that is about everything), had ceased to function as had the electronic reliant world we had created.   The street throngs of dazed people walked around like zombies, clutching blacked out dead computer devices, knowing not what to do. Not even talking, forgotten I guess how to do that too. As dependently defectively programmed as the useless devices in their hands. In a panic I did awake finding that this scary dream world was indeed all fake, a nightmare of fearful unconscious thinking. My electric clock was still churning, It's music alarm blaring, birds outside still singing, my cell phone started ringing, it was merely another Robot call, Welcoming me back to the 21 century.
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44
Good-by, proud world, I'm going home, Thou'rt not my friend, and I'm not thine; Long through thy weary crowds I roam; A river-ark on the ocean brine, Long I've been tossed like the driven foam, But now, proud world, I'm going home. Good-by to Flattery's fawning face, To Grandeur, with his wise grimace, To upstart Wealth's averted eye, To supple Office low and high, To crowded halls, to court, and street, To frozen hearts, and hasting feet, To those who go, and those who come, Good-by, proud world, I'm going home. I'm going to my own hearth-stone Bosomed in yon green hills, alone, A secret nook in a pleasant land, Whose groves the frolic fairies planned; Where arches green the livelong day Echo the blackbird's roundelay, And ****** feet have never trod A spot that is sacred to thought and God. Oh, when I am safe in my sylvan home, I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome; And when I am stretched beneath the pines Where the evening star so holy shines, I laugh at the lore and the pride of man, At the sophist schools, and the learned clan; For what are they all in their high conceit, When man in the bush with God may meet.
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14.4k
Good-by
Dull eyes Dark under-eye rings Dazed look. She was tired, But sleep, Not even a weekend's worth of it, Could cure her tiredness. For she felt hopeless, Driven to desperation.
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Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 10:15 AM UTC
Tired
Whose melancholy love slumbers in your serene arms? She is darkness incarnate, and you've become corrupted by fate. Her savage fingers linger on your blood soaked chest. You merely thought... *what great ***** *** You poor fool... She is beyond your reasoning, unexplainable, but you are hooked. By morning, she will be gone, leaving you wanting more. Addiction for her will become a self-driven sword.
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Nov 25, 2010
Nov 25, 2010 at 4:17 AM UTC
Succubus
Today in an overweight society, The type of society that deals anxiety, Anxiety, anxiety, in this overweight society. Today in an overweight society, The type of society where diet pills are a normality, Normality, Normality in an overweight society. Today in the eyes of an underweight tragedy, Influenced so greatly by an overweight society, Tragedy, Tragedy, in an overweight society. Influenced by a society of fatty foods, Fear becoming a more common mood, The fear of falling into the normality The normality of this tragedy. The overweight society. Influence by obesity. Striving to be what their minds see, The minds of the children trapped, Trapped by this overweight society. Influenced by the skinny girls on TV Only followed by ads showing fatty foods society demans you eat Have a cheeseburger, upgrade to a large fry, yet still look like her, it's pounded in her mind. Young minds believe what they see. Morphed into the tragedy of society. A society where eating disorders strive A society where an 8 year old can consious you starve themselve to feel pretty. The definition of pretty based simply on TV Yet nobody questions this more than imperfect society. Elementary ages childern being fed fat then forced to stand in front of a mirror. Put a toy in poison and call it magic. Oh yes, what a fantasy. A fantasy forcing you into reality. The reality becoming your worst nightmare. The reality of your fears driven by society. I'm overweight, yet pizza is the best choice for a happy family. A society where mental illness strives. Why can't people open their eyes? Spoon feeding childern poison and expecting them to love themselves. In school teachers force health into thier minds. At home, parents feed them poison to save time. Re-creating, reprogramming their fragile little minds, yet still expecting them to feel fine. Feeling down? Have a happy meal, gain a pound. Overweight? Shame, shame, you must maintain the image. The image forced into your mind. This was our greatest fall. Upon dieting we call. Skelington stave me. Anorexia at it's finest. Anorexia thin and spineless. Some call you timeless. But only recently you made your debute. Make me feel brand new. Reprogram my mind. Make me feel fine. Thank God for thinsperation. Oh Anorexia, my new inspiration. Make me feel pretty. Just like the skinny girls on TV. Loosing pounds, one by one. Still weighed down by a ton. The weight of pleasing it. The nightmare society created. Influenced by what we see. Finally morphed into the tragedy of the normality of this weight obsessed society.
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Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 3:44 PM UTC
Weight Obsessed Society
Today in an overweight society, The type of society that deals anxiety, Anxiety, anxiety, in this overweight society. Today in an overweight society, The type of society where diet pills are a normality, Normality, Normality in an overweight society. Today in the eyes of an underweight tragedy, Influenced so greatly by an overweight society, Tragedy, Tragedy, in an overweight society. Influenced by a society of fatty foods, Fear becoming a more common mood, The fear of falling into the normality The normality of this tragedy. The overweight society. Influence by obesity. Striving to be what their minds see, The minds of the children trapped, Trapped by this overweight society. Influenced by the skinny girls on TV Only followed by ads showing fatty foods society demans you eat Have a cheeseburger, upgrade to a large fry, yet still look like her, it's pounded in her mind. Young minds believe what they see. Morphed into the tragedy of society. A society where eating disorders strive A society where an 8 year old can consious you starve themselve to feel pretty. The definition of pretty based simply on TV Yet nobody questions this more than imperfect society. Elementary ages childern being fed fat then forced to stand in front of a mirror. Put a toy in poison and call it magic. Oh yes, what a fantasy. A fantasy forcing you into reality. The reality becoming your worst nightmare. The reality of your fears driven by society. I'm overweight, yet pizza is the best choice for a happy family. A society where mental illness strives. Why can't people open their eyes? Spoon feeding childern poison and expecting them to love themselves. In school teachers force health into thier minds. At home, parents feed them poison to save time. Re-creating, reprogramming their fragile little minds, yet still expecting them to feel fine. Feeling down? Have a happy meal, gain a pound. Overweight? Shame, shame, you must maintain the image. The image forced into your mind. This was our greatest fall. Upon dieting we call. Skelington stave me. Anorexia at it's finest. Anorexia thin and spineless. Some call you timeless. But only recently you made your debute. Make me feel brand new. Reprogram my mind. Make me feel fine. Thank God for thinsperation. Oh Anorexia, my new inspiration. Make me feel pretty. Just like the skinny girls on TV. Loosing pounds, one by one. Still weighed down by a ton. The weight of pleasing it. The nightmare society created. Influenced by what we see. Finally morphed into the tragedy of the normality of this weight obsessed society.
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i see the flyer at starbucks "are you caucasian? without mental health and drug problems?" wow i don’t know the answer to any of these questions is a jew a caucasian? is the occasional naked, dick-slamming drunken rampage a drug problem? as for mental health i’m a deadbeat poet and unpopular pop musician i’ve got a job fighting death and boredom and i just changed my facebook password to "eat **** my frustrations have driven weaker souls to homicide but are these PROBLEMS?
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Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 5:16 AM UTC
ARE YOU CAUCASIAN?
#*It is not the nature of things or people to satisfy us but rather to awaken in us the desire to be satisfied. When we seek our hearts' pleasures in temporal affairs our joy easily fades for only delight in the Eternal cannot be tarnished, broken, stolen or lost. If we fail to learn the secrets of uncovering joy in loss then we risk being driven to despair or bitterness or insanity in this world which is so full of sorrow. For all of this Earth’s wonder and beauty and blessings it's only meant to serve as a great cosmic magnet pulling us to our Source. One true glimpse of Him would cause us to never cast another glance at any created thing and think it might satisfy. Lord Jesus, give us eyes to see that You Yourself and You alone are the bread and water which our souls so desperately crave. Teach us to hungrily partake from Your own hand, O God. May every scent and song, every shadow and sorrow only call us closer to You.*#
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Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC
The Only Satisfying Source
Mesmerised by an ocean dream, Eternal life, alone and free. Rolling waves, sea pure and clear, Maybe I've found shelter from the storm. A cave that glistens, a loving aura. I no longer need my alibi, Driven to the dream I've always dreamed, Swimming with the mermaids of the open seas.
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Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 8:52 AM UTC
A mermaids dream