"dwellers" poems
my darkest poems
bloodletting streams
are a kind of ******
fetishy cognitive inventory
malformed denizens
of the subconscious
a well of torments
soup of Salmonella
the souls gut
its cauldron
yet not with out lurid enticements
and voluptuous supplicants
gorgeous
like an eight legged woman
with beautiful feet
drooling **** lips
drunk on sacrificial rituals
of blood black tongued kisses
and hideous contorted pleasures
********
once
exquisite archetypes
gods and goddesses
are now
putrefied
cellar dwellers
moaning in nature bed crypts
of rock, stone
and engraved sigils
because honest pure desires
became fragmentary
and are now gimping amputees
by legions of primal disappointment
while faces blare in the world
like super bright L.E.D.s
shinning paths to others
our deep self
remains patinaed in tears
a black box pox with a lock
the skeleton key lost
in arcane seas
out of utter disgust
for those dark crawlers
that live within us
revealing them selves
as anxieties, depressions
suicides
and myriad quiet despairs
we appear undaunted
to others
and they to us
humanity
muffled ticks
and splintered sticks
my poems let my demons out
yoo who its me
my name is spray snake z
with my hooks and cries
and dark blood skies
in the misty night
i dragged out their earthen coffins
legends of the despicable
resurrected them
fed and loved those darklings
had every conceivable union with them
their healing, my own
ive sexualized them
and found love
albeit twisted
to be adored
in a hidden embrace
i bestow upon you a poetic fantasy
while obsession takes hold
bind it not
nor let it bind you*
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 9:32 AM UTC
Civilized life is rigged, O land-dwellers!
With landmines hidden
in trails of Society's doctrine,
'Too often is it stepped on,
Too often does it explode.'
Blowing constitutions to smithereens,
Where you then rummage within your nucleus
to piece together your scattered jigsaw,
Misplacing your natural elements,
Overcasting your ability to side with beauteous aspects in simplicity—
Of those ethereal-resplendent butterflies.
Disillusioned on land thus is you (the complex you).
Let go—
Rise above your materialistic graves—
Walk on air!
My kindred wisps
Walk on air!
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 4:56 AM UTC
If I were ever to chance upon, a real life Genie
and being ever so kind, he granted me wishes freely
I wouldn't waste any time, and ask him quite loudly
'Give me a Flying Carpet, and make the sky cloudy!'
Astride my bed with wings, I would swiftly reach the sky
and dive through the clouds like through butter a hot knife
feeling the wind in my hair, laughing with unbridled glee
as a soaring eagle feels in the air, light, and free
Next I'd become a Lion, to roar and roam the jungles deep
Growling and tearing into poachers, and savoring the meat
I would rule all the mighty creatures, as their rightful king
and all the forest's denizens would my praises sing
Soon after I would ask for a ship, and a crew of souls brave
I would visit all lands afar, upon my Master of waves
without a single glance behind and not a spot of bother
I would see and feel and taste all the world has to offer
From above I'd go beneath, diving as a blue whale
The murky depths of the oceans whistling past my tail
All the wondrous sea dwellers, and all the buried wonders
would become a part of my enchanting under sea tale
Last of all I'd ask the genie, to build with his hand
a nation built for all the poor orphans of every land
where they eat and drink and make much merriment
and also study, play, and sleep with gladness in them
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 3:08 AM UTC
I
There is a house with ivied walls,
And mullioned windows worn and old,
And the long dwellers in those halls
Have souls that know but sordid calls,
And dote on gold.
II
In a blazing brick and plated show
Not far away a ‘villa’ gleams,
And here a family few may know,
With book and pencil, viol and bow,
Lead inner lives of dreams.
III
The philosophic passers say,
‘See that old mansion mossed and fair,
Poetic souls therein are they:
And O that gaudy box! Away,
You ****** people there.’
6.8k
Secret wish
stands hidden
in
cliché riddled
green patch
this neon bird
mocks
red capped
garden dwellers
serenely seated
bookish girl
half-dead fern
leans towards
hot pink beacon
salvation bent
crescent moon
casts
feathery palm shadows
with curved arms
against the
bamboo fence
lifting
earthbound desires
skyward.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
Seniors sluggishly step
Trifling tunnels suddenly turn tame
But boredom befalls from bountiful blessings
The lengthy labyrinths lead to a lair of light
However, hazardous hiking harms healthy equipment
Determination among tunnel dwellers dwindles down drastically
Can crawling to the coronation corridor ease the contagious condition?
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 3:00 PM UTC
I never met a storm I didn't like
I wish I could say the same for people
Though sometimes I think
They have as little control
Of what they destroy
As storms
I think I could love anyone,
that shared a mountain coast with me.
Those rocks and rivers and beachfront caves?
I feel like a pirate.
And I believe not caring what others think,
Is a coward's way to self-esteem.
You can't make everyone happy
That doesn't mean you shouldn't try.
I can seem cold
But what you're hearing
Is precision
It makes sense when you love words
And hate being misunderstood.
I hate when people argue to be right
Instead of understand
It's self-indulgent
And dehumanizing
And so very me.
I'm such a nerd I'd need another poem
to convey how much
But I think it will suffice to say
If you like
Will McAvoy
The Dragonborn
Charles Spurgeon
Vault Dwellers
or the Crystal Gems
We'll probably get along.
And lastly
I only wrote this poem
Because I hate not having an answer
To "tell me about yourself."
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 8:25 AM UTC
In the meanest time of summer
when the sun cracks the pavement
and swelter fills your lungs
a call to the dispossessed is in order.
Consider the river washers,
and the alley dwellers
who are simply thankful for today.
Chew on a bitter piece of perspective
and ask yourself;
if you had to carry a cross to your own death
would you complain about the heat?
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
In the elevation of spirit, I am seperated;
Drawn apart from the land-dwellers,
I am propelled into the arms of clouds.
Eagerly embracing my new fate amongst stars,
I rewrite the patterns that form my destiny,
As a god amidst the heavens.
I fabricate new avenues as I venture,
Liberated from the fetters of ground,
I find freedom - escaping to new planes.
My sole duty to self,
Uplifting ego; regal in posture,
I am kept aloft of storms in my flight;
A seer, with third eye opening
To envision silver linings and goals.
And even in my solitude I am connected,
Solar energy soaring through veins,
Spreading wings to swallow sun,
I fly with Nut, drifting in meditation,
Each breath an inhalation of frequencies.
As subtle as Oshun,
I am deity as tranquil as stream,
Unbounded and infinite;
A soul of fire, air, ice and earth.
I am element, atom, and energy,
One with universe, a sound ensemble,
I am cosmic pneuma -
A human.
Aug 11, 2021
Aug 11, 2021 at 8:50 AM UTC
Meandering like its canals
Venetian streets sing underfoot.
Who wore away the stone cobbled streets?
Who walked down to the shore?
Who gazed out at the Adriatic?
Who's dreams were lost in Venice's stream of streets?
Licentious lovers loved in Venice's streets, kissed on her bridges,
Crossed under by gondola and over by foot.
Proposed at the piazza San Marco.
Kissed, while the Grand Canal wound her way down.
Down into the sea,
where the menace that is the world, Venice shuns.
Rialto, Doge, Basilica, St. Marks, pigeons!
All evoke that lagoon city of streets.
Originally refugees, incolae lacunae ("lagoon dwellers")
Venetians, gave not only a place for the dispossessed,
but a place for the world to see, feel and taste.
Art, war, politics, commerce, spice and silk.
Venice with her ribbon of streets, alleyways and bridges
saw the Renaissance, the crusades, and the Black Death.
Glassware, paintings, sculptures, religion, refugees all
synonymous with that floating city.
A city returning to the water she arose from.
Subsiding with grief as she drowns in elegant decay.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 2:56 PM UTC
teepee dwellers gather rounddancing flames, natures soundhappy hippies, beads and banglesvegan food but leather sandals save the earth, soap-dodgers pleadflower power, worship weedhate pollution, love the treeslove and peace, pure and free dreadlock strands, ***** handssymbolic signs from aeresol cansacrylic colours produced by manthe hairy eco paints his van van thats spews black filthy smokebalding tyres, handbrake brokesigns of peace and global gleeno wipers, tax, or m.o.t workin hippy knows the scoresummer paid by winters choremother earth their passion causeand some drive home in four by fours
Mar 1, 2010
Mar 1, 2010 at 1:15 PM UTC
floating on
the pond
dragonflies zip
above me
thinking I
am an
organic substance
an algae-dipped
nympth
my hair in fronds
the subtle ripple
of sunstreak
on thigh
like reflections of
rainbow lanterns
upon skin
my skin, puckered
from melding
aquatic escapade
is soothed in this home
of kissing koi
who welcome me
in fin brushes
bubbles on the
small
of my back
sweet as the
lush harmony
of waterlily voices
that only I can hear
as the gaze of frogs
and forest dwellers
imprints upon
the inner lids
of my
starlit
eyes
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 2:44 PM UTC
Here's one for the gamers
dungeon dwellers, competitors and casual players
Whether they're at home or at a friend,
footballers, car racers or dragon slayers
To the world that looks down on us
for those who's hobbies least appeal
Just because they don't understand the reason
or share the passion we feel
Gamers like acheivements
each to their own
Whether its to vanquish the opposition
build, or break their enemies throne
Is that so different
perhaps they spend a lot of time at home
But isn't playing online with their friends
a little better than just sitting alone on ones phone?
The world of gaming has evolved
and adapted so much
It's a common to see a mother aligning fruit
or a child with a flapping duck
And is it such a bad thing
if the players are actually having fun
It may not be making them better
but I can think of many worse things they could have done
They say games encourage violence
but these people are some of the kindest I've ever seen
Theft, ****** and street racing
would it not be better if these things were only done behind a computer screen?
For many, its more than just a game
and can lead to some desperation
But people need to know the limits
and play in moderation
For some
it's to do things they wouldn't normally do or say on a daily basis
A couch potato wanting to explore the world
avoid boredom, keep their mind from stasis
To feel the breeze of a challenge
drive a fast car or
sword-fight,
maybe even do some parkour
Whether they want to skydive
or skate over a hill
To be able to do something dangerous
without having to sign a medical bill
We all have our reasons
some play casually while others play to vent
E-gaming has become so popular
now hosting world tournaments and many gaming event
This is how we are
so please let us be
Our motives are like captured birds
are we are just setting them free
Whether you want to be a princess
or guardian of a banana tree
You can do whatever you want
just follow your dream
People will always be different
this is just another sub-culture; like fans of a band
But we are the gamers
and by this title proudly we stand
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 5:02 AM UTC
My "place of clear water,"
the first hill in the world
where springs washed into
the shiny grass
and darkened cobbles
in the bed of the lane.
Anahorish, soft gradient
of consonant, vowel-meadow,
after-image of lamps
swung through the yards
on winter evenings.
With pails and barrows
those mound-dwellers
go waist-deep in mist
to break the light ice
at wells and dunghills.
3.9k
this is for the Dreamers, Lovers, and Surgeons
for the Hopeless Stargazer who immortalized his Subject with one hundred and eight sets of fourteen lines in iambic pentameter
for ***** tight clad teenage boys who envied frisky fleas, struggling to make holy ungodly passions with cheap arguments and metaphysical pick up lines
for Disillusioned City Dwellers, who, wandering lonely as clouds, stopped to quietly reflect upon wind-beaten moss-covered crags, and heard God’s whisper thunder from petals and blades of grass
this is for the Dreamers, Lovers, and Surgeons
for Bespectacled Slave Drivers who submersed idle minds in anthologies, forcing them to **** neon yellow on dreams deferred and rivers; slicing and dicing Grecian urns with red ball point pens; bruising and battering, in blue ball point, roads not taken; scalding supermarkets in California with pyroclastic flows of graphite
for those pushing to tear apart lines and letters, reconstructing ,deconstructing, agonizing, imaginizing, bullshitting, and brooding on to crisp white sheets in times new roman twelve point font
for the Monsters and Lollipops that exist in the millimeters between a skull and a brain
this is for the Dreamers, Lovers, and Surgeons slumbering beneath Restless Leaves Under the Moon
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 10:39 AM UTC
When you,re hiding in a closet,
thinking no one really knows,
and you do the things expected,
lifestyle, hair, hell even clothes,
what,s the point in being someone,
even you can,t recognise,
when the real you is much nicer,
never mind the sad disguise,
shake the cobwebs off and show yourself,
i promise, you,ll feel better,
and the ones who,d diss you,
matter not, tell them "write a letter",
you,re unique, a one off, all your own,
don,t let them tell you different,
you may inspire some other closet dwellers,
how excellent !
(c)[email protected] (re-edited)
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 12:19 PM UTC
Though life abounds with blossoms bright,
fed and watered, nurtured right;
And trees along the river bank,
strengthened so, display their might,
Saguaro, YOU surprise me most
and give the desert dwellers hope.
Alone, you stand in arid sands
without your roots in greener lands,
yet strong and tall and bright, command
my respect and awe.
Deep inside your prickly skin,
you've stored life's sunshine deep within;
Though scarce the raindrops from the sky,
you've captured each and treasured, "MY!"
If I could be like you, what heights I would achieve.
And revel in acceptance that, like you,
I'm planted right where I should be.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 2:06 AM UTC
The air is burly
trees harvest soldiers on the line
combines, threads, manure, life--
A whole world lost amidst the flats
Saplings are the next season's
Almonds, Apples, Dates,
Waiting for food shelves and stockrooms
packed in banana boxes and given a place
They will find the plates of capitol city dwellers
They will be engorged far away from their origins
The Sierra-- oh the great plutonic mass
They are grey from age, peppered with white whiskers of snow
They are asking to be known as the interior
Pilgrims who traveled over their spines, seeking these fertile swampland
Now airstrips and dirigibles
The edges of clouds on the valley, the deserts and the mountains like folds of a book
they crackle in the sun and the skin of the earth shrinks in its gaze
Migratory birds dance in the fields, the lowly clang of bell
Bleached american flags tell us this is the land
The land of things and endless breadth
This is only California, but the majesty of it
a gem valley encased by the rocks, in silicates
A roaming place for cows, wanderers, farmers, dreams
Where the only edge of things is the mountains, saying
-Climb me, surmount me, lay me under your deeds-
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 12:26 PM UTC
They come and
Sale their wilderness
To the city!
They come and
Disseminate their chortle to city dwellers!
They come and
Teach business of honesty and humanity to the
People living in the jungle of concrete and sorrow!
They are prudent,
They are celebrant of
Compassion, peace and happiness!
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
The Land of Nod (Hebrew: ארץ נוד, eretz-Nod)
is a place mentioned in the Book of Genesis
of the Hebrew Bible, located "on the east of Eden"
(qidmat-‘Eden), where Cain was exiled
by God after Cain had murdered his brother Abel;
According to Genesis 4:16:
_And Cain went out from the presence of the LORD,
and dwelt in the land of Nod, on the east of Eden._
(וַיֵּ֥צֵא קַ֖יִן מִלִּפְנֵ֣י יְהוָ֑ה וַיֵּ֥שֶׁב בְּאֶֽרֶץ־נֹ֖וד קִדְמַת־עֵֽדֶן)
"Nod" (נוד) is the Hebrew root of the verb
"to wander" (לנדוד). Therefore, to dwell
in the land of Nod is usually taken to mean
that one takes up a wandering life. Genesis 4:17
relates that after arriving in the Land of Nod,
Cain's wife bore him a son, _Enoch_,
in whose name he built the first city;
"Nod" (נוד) is the Hebrew root of the verb
"to wander" (לנדוד). Therefore, to dwell
in the land of Nod can mean to live
a wandering life; Gesenius defines (נוּד) as follows:
_TO BE MOVED, TO BE AGITATED_
(Arab. ناد Med. Waw id.), used of a reed
shaken by the wind, 1Ki.14:15; hence to wander,
to be a fugitive, Jer. 4:1; Gen. 4:12, 14; Ps.56:9;
to flee, Ps. 11:1; Jer. 49:30. Figuratively, Isa. 17:11,
נֵד קָצִיר "the harvest has fled" ["but see נֵד ,"
which some take in this place as the subst.]
Much as Cain's name is connected
to the verb meaning "to get" in Genesis 4:1,
the name "Nod" closely resembles the word
"nad" (נָ֖ד), usually translated as "vagabond",
in Genesis 4:12. (In the Septuagint's rendering
of the same verse, God curses Cain
to τρέμων, "trembling")
A Greek version of Nod written as Ναίν
appearing in the _Onomastica Vaticana_
possibly derives from the plural נחים,
which relates to resting and sleeping;
This derivation, coincidentally or not,
connects with the English pun on "nod";
Josephus wrote in Antiquities of the Jews
(c. AD 93) that Cain continued his wickedness
in Nod: resorting to violence and robbery;
establishing weights and measures;
transforming human culture from innocence
into craftiness and deceit; establishing
property lines; and building a fortified city;
Nod is said to be outside of the presence
or face of God: Origen defined Nod
as the land of trembling and wrote
that it symbolized the condition of all
who forsake God; Early commentators
treated it as the opposite of Eden
(worse still than the land of exile
for the rest of humanity); In the English tradition
Nod was sometimes described as a desert
inhabited only by ferocious beasts or monsters;
Others interpreted Nod as dark or even
underground—away from the face of God—
Augustine described unconverted Jews as
dwellers in the land of Nod, which he defined
as commotion and "carnal disquietude"
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 12:16 PM UTC
Poets are lonesome cactus vendors
In whose palms grow hurtful ascenders
From having to peel colored wonders
To those who dread thorny fruits - the dwellers -
With too many cores inside.
© LazharBouazzi
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 7:15 PM UTC
~
Standing to fight
In the heart of the city
The jungles of asphalt
where neon flashes evil
as sidewalk dwellers
window shop hate
and find peace labeled “Not for sale”
I cling to my beliefs
in lamp post graffiti
Spray painted wishes
fading in color
and store owner nightmares,
defacing the brick walls
surrounding my very existence
Fear falls in pamphlet raindrops,
pages scattered
beyond the welcome mats
of big box politicians
in paisley ties
and sharp creased slacks,
shaking hands and scamming votes
Promises made
circled in cigar smoke and cheap wine,
fall on unsuspecting ears as truth
until the “sorry we’re closed” signs
spin in favor of loss…
opening for business
to the throngs of the needy
I see their eyes, hollow,
faltering of sorrow as worry
becomes the next day’s problem
Reaching into my pocket I retrieve
the multi-colored wings you gave me…just in case
and I fly to be with you
Unable to face the fall…of humanity
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
People build million dollars homes
Far away from the city dwellers
To be free from ordinary folks
Are well known loners
They even tried to own the high sea
Unfortunately, it belongs to all nation and mankind
It’s known as freedom and seafaring power to all
In hopes of a segregation
without the unnecessary advocating
they build swimming pools;
and Bob wire fences
It’s hard for many of us to create duplicates of heaven
Without the approval of the mighty one
These efforts would remain tantalizingly and unreachable
Like the keys to the golden gates;
Some of the loners that goes down to the depth of the ocean
To do business in the water, have failed miserably
after they have seen the works of the all mighty
However, with all their money and the power
They is no escaping from your neighbors
There is only one thing that separated us
is death
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 10:15 AM UTC
The cold brought the snow
And the snow brought the ice
And the frosty town dwellers
And chilled out urbanites
Thawed out a little
With a raise of the eyes
An exhaled expression
A neighbourly - Y'alright?
A young woman
In unfriendly red
Comes cluttering
And skidding
Around the bend
I look up -
She pushes past
On her way to the station
But I have the last laugh -
It's closed, I almost shout
There's not even a sign
But if she manages to make it on heels
She'll find out in good time
Things move slower in the cold
And with good reason.
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 7:44 AM UTC