"ean" poems
In your story you are the protagonist.
While I am a dutiful caretaker,
I want you to let me sink,
Lower & deeper into your eyes,
Loving we have come to each other.
A a true lover and admirer I am,
Listen to my heartbeat someday,
When I will not miss your glam,
Amazing is this love they'll say,
Yours I will forever be the dam,
Shall I ever miss you madam?
Lean down I will to kiss you,
On your forehead, cheeks & lips,
Very softly I will be kissing you,
Entering you it will be a bliss.
You love and desire me so much,
Of your craze I am so crazy,
Unnatural your faith is.
My dream is coming true in you,
You I will always be so thankful.
Pushing my efforts I always am,
Oath of love is unbreakable here,
On this lovely and smooth tram,
Jinx they may but none we fear,
Always be happy with you I am.
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
Wind driving cloud-cows
across a range of blue
Holds gulls by wing tips
motionless
Trains a tree to worship
Bows beach grass
to its will
all while rattling windows--shaken fist at me
Then still
The waves forever
tell their names
ocean
o-shshc-ean
ocean
BashO--CE-A-N
ocean
ocean
OC-E-A-N
ocean
ocean
oceanshshsh-shean
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 11:54 AM UTC
Close your eyes, my dear,
We shall lay upon clouds;
Close your eyes, my dear,
We shall hear the sounds;
Close your eyes, my dear,
We'll fall into evergreen;
Close your eyes, my dear,
Our thoughts will ean;
Close your eyes, my dear,
Let us venture as one;
Close your eyes, my dear,
Us will never be gone;
Close your eyes, my dear,
Let your dreams flow;
Close your eyes, my dear,
Wherever you want, we shall go;
Close your eyes, my dear,
Let us feel this bliss;
Close your eyes, my dear,
Feel there is nothing amiss.
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Open your eyes.
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See the treachery of Paradise.
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Open. Your. Eyes.
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See how the dream dies, as time flies.
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Close your eyes, my dear,
As I cower in my fear;
Closing my eyes, dear,
Makes me remember that you'll never be here.
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 7:44 PM UTC
This is me
Ean Of Nasarith
Baron of Sydmonton
This is me
Ean Of Nasarith
Baron of Simpleton
This is me
Ean Of Nasarith
Battle at Sydmonton
This is me
Ean Of Nasarith
Baron of Sydmonton
Jul 12, 2012
Jul 12, 2012 at 4:33 AM UTC
it is okay not to have plans
it's okay you have spent m
any nights lone before toni
ght do not cry not now he
didn't notice a change but
it is there is is a glowing em
ber and when you cut off th
tips of your hair you cut off
a little tiny bit of desperation
i mean it you look better i m
ean it the change is there and
it is okay to acknowledge it a
lone it your bedroom it is oka
y to steal a beer from the lock
ed pantry and drink it alone a
nd toast yourself it is okay to h
ug yourself and laugh to yours
elf you're still ADMI R A B L E
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 7:31 PM UTC
eighty-five
pounds ago, mother told me the secret
to losing it just like she did—the weight, that is
she let me know at eight that a low number on the scale
does equate beauty, that less is more
it’s simple, really, she’d say to me,
i felt disgusting, it got out of hand, trust me
i’d have snipped my skin had i no other option
i’d have shed my flesh had i not had ten fingers
so i frequented that room down the hall for some rest
felt as cascades filled my larynx with emptiness
i'd get high afterwards having thrown every throe up
the smaller the waist/waste, the more waste i’d throw up
and i loved it...
so i'd insist and press my gag-reflex harder just to test it
then savor (the way) the reverse acid-flavored after-taste(d)
i frequented that shared room down the hall everyday for my next fix
to compuke the total sum of endless time plus ten long fingers
and i loved it...
see, there’s nothing quite as indicative of progress as is
seeing your handmade artwork (sink) in marble canvasses
there’s just one problem
i still feel disgusted today but with
just one difference
the s(kin) i wish to shed is on you and you’re my extension
i’d hate to skin my flesh but what options have you left over?
i(’ m)ean, the key to losing leftover's at your fingertips
eighty-five
pounds later, i told mother how right she was
i do love the emptiness, particularly when i'm
in ninety-degree summers and i feel cooler (lean)ing
at ninety-degrees trying hard to find the right angle
for kissing the hard marble my tongue hangs out for with hunger
there’s just one difference
i feel disgusting, i’m just like ___
but there’s just one problem
i’m addicted to hitting my speed bag, it has me boxed in
it was in my stomach at first but then it started spreading
like vicious late-stage cancer with its victims, i feel livid
and now my stomach’s sinking and i can feel it turning
upside-down but it’s not the acid or toxicity
or the stress ulcers or my self-disappointment with me
that today make me puke
my problem, to speak the whole truth
is that it’s not me
mother, it’s ___
- end -
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 6:37 AM UTC
I made a neucanse out of my luxuries
the wine worries me
and the high only takes me so far
want the words an the numbers and the faces to ean something? can't you accept nighilis?
spit out another phrase to make sense of it, fine
I type in order to avoid bedrest, I haven't begun makes my own arrangements for that yet, it doesn't even make sense, really
as the battery begins to die, my wine runs dry
and,seriously, out of things to say as the orbit on tv goes tp mir o,,ideate sp;ar system, impressive to the 80's physicist
using their finger s and thumbs to re enact the satellites behaviors
I pity their inaccuracy
If only the string theory folk
could get their act
together
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 7:28 AM UTC