Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
fearfulpoet Jul 2018
“only” the lonely know (my special sign)


an incurable silence

the meaningless, wasted touch of a hand,
attached, directed by them from them
to them
a failed reassurance

a classroom, a stadium, cornfield or grove,
so many nutted fallen solitaries fallen to rot
midst a globe of trillions never noticed,
never missed

the silly conceptual that the lonely,
special unique, blessed with a curse,
a specialist status, “only” they afflicted;
with a ken that isolates and yet feels elevated -
oh! I am special

show me one, just one, human who doesn’t truly believe,
they are the onliest loneliest and you will vision
each and every
lonely person who
secret sighs and whose first thoughts are only:

god spare me one more day of being,
fearful of achieving
my very own knowing,
in the invisible place,
the incurable silence award,
reward of another purple heart,
“only” the lonely service ribbon,
my Cain marker

~my special sign~

what a wonderful reception to my first poem!

thank you,
less fearful!
CK Baker Apr 2017
Sunday sermons are spilling on the inner city streets
through the green heaps and brown bags
through the downtown whisperers
and sage solitude souls

Army bands prepare for march
(their trench members filling packs with canister and cane)
the high command and tricked militia head pinned
quick on the look for splinter, lorry and skuttle

Traffic patterns change at the COP connect
camouflage bearers break formal stride
battle men slip between colorful floats
unsuspecting slumlords (vein pricked and weary)
grin in their second suite dying rooms

Twitching men and rubbernecks
sit discreetly on the corner wall
JJ and the chief revere a 21 gun salute
holy rollers raise cheer (in a moment of silence)
chess men hold steady
with ivory cues

Flames belt from the distant foundry
streets come alive with crackle and dust
members of the attic group glance down from their perch
an elderly man in a straight jacket (happy in the now)
sits solemnly with a cold reflective stare

It’s not far from the steely mud holes
from the flying fragments and sharp broken dreams
from the arsenal digs and madmen (who quietly turned the *****)
the ivy trellis
and flowing white gown
are a nocturne fit
for this elevated rolling highland
Andrew Nov 2018
What is truth?
A gnarled old tree
No wind can rustle
Even death
Is nothing but stars.
What is love?
But the way of water
(the way of the ancient ones)
The gentle erosion of stone.
The mountain looms
On the purple horizon;
Dusk is startled and the animals
Emerge from their caves.
Najwa Kareem Feb 2019
Elevated position
strategically sitting
following a script
she says apathetically
three words
An audience a witness
Differently they speak
a language of friendliness
and graciousness
Lying on the innocent
she spreads confusion and doubt
Around the corner
a ray of goodness manifests
She averts her head
the mirror to a heart in crystal white
and guilty
is the Satan in her eyes
Larzipan Sep 2014
My lips can no longer hold back.
The muted tones cannot bring out the infinity that hides
to an exit sign.
Certainty waves goodbye. My only function now is to collapse it.
To put the past behind.

The barred doors allow the bottleneck to tighten for a few hours,
but memory has a way of sounding the alarm in the morning
when the early birds rise,
armed with ancient lessons
that remind me they're the ones who are eating well.

I want to come up from the dirt and drink from the well.
My low-life self can no longer heed the worm's advice:
"Sleep all day and you won't get eaten."


Out with your tepid voice and halfway disposition.
Out with your elevated mind, your profound commitment to the mediocre task
of enlightening the little people.

The empire you fabricate may stay stitched for a while.
But the clothes of emperors always burst at the seams.
A workaholic, addicted to the common
you're winning your converts with tired dreams, vicarious imaginings of those finer roads, well tread by shoes that are not your own.
You don't believe in the masses. Fine. But get the *******
your throne.

Reciting badly drawn poems at four in the morning
(it could have been worse e.g. I could have wrote "mourning")
looking to insight myself,
not into a passionate frenzy
like Bacchae drunk on the moonlight.
No -- I want piercing red. That's what I want to be.
Want to show the heavens how I use the precious wine.
Sip it.
Out the undulations go.
Sweating out the great myth that time forgets when it flows.

My pagan-witch ego has put me on the hunt for blood tonight,
and the full moon is giving rise to ****** undulations,
washing up teeny-book explanations
of loves once lost.
But I'm far from my being,
and from the infinite ocean.
And the only sound I can hear right now is my one hand clapping at the curtain call,
retiring my broom,
bowing goodbye.
god is the mystery
that lingers on the lips of eternity
turn me into everything
i am your obedient child
make me an example
of your generosity
i am immediately elevated
solely by your presence
your essence is immanent
though life is impermanent
So honestly, my true intention
is to live this life better than you.
        Petty, I know.

But just so tempting to declare
that I can come to my end,
somehow elevated with an esteem
that will grab the gods' attention.

Perhaps, they will applaud,
and grant me a life saving boon.
In my excellence, I will request
an honorarium for my sacred duty-

To leave this world with all of you
brimming in the knowledge
that it does not mater how well
you live your life.

Because you'll know that the love-
my love, your love, the forever love-
is more compliant than desire,
and more abundant than the wind.

Step outside, for you might leap
into eternity from there.
Gaze to the right
and be comforted and fearless.

Know that I am beyond,
and armed with my gratitude
for our imperfect loving, I have been able
to discipline doomsday.

          It looked away so sheepishly,
          so aware of its inability to build
          an alter higher than the tears shed,
          the cries of joy,
                    on the day you were born.
(So sorry for the edits. Funny how you can obsess over a piece for an afternoon, and still miss a “the”.)

Title lifted from the 2nd Teaching, 40th verse of the Bhagavad-Gita, trans. Barbara Stoler Miller: "No effort in this world, is lost or wasted; a fragment of sacred duty saves you from great fear."
Seanathon Apr 2019
Temperature elevated
Lips sticky
And back curved with the slightest of pain
How I wish that I could kiss you now
Brush your brow with gentle cold
And take every ounce of your present misery away
The patient
If one had a desire to define the word god where would he begin?  Why would he assign the traits he did to the word?  Would he want to assimilate traits that he perceived to be godlike?   Would he obtain a clearer vision in a realization of the futility of aspiration, or would pragmatism and adamant tenaciousness afford him a better route?  Perhaps we all could benefit by a reassessment of our affinity with god.
The metaphysical extremities of human nature provide man with a multifaceted image of the possible psychic states of God. Objectivity has led man away from the true nature of his need many times at this point.  Any retrospective analysis of man’s personifications of deity most often leaves one lost in the quandaries of the psychic quagmire.  The weaknesses created by man’s lack of a universally acceptable id conclusion have elevated many philosophical or theocratic hypotheses to the level of demagoguery.

One method which has been used by theologians in attempting to induct a sumerial derivation from the vast warehouse of human religious extrapolation is the concept that perhaps basic truths can be affirmed through the theory of sufficient constancy of conjunction. Which is to say that reasonably analogous conjectures can be found in the depths of religious pervasion.  But this is not strictly true.
The ancient Babylonians, like the Indians, were polytheistic. They worshiped gods of nature, tribal union, fertility.  Deifications created from allusion to natural analogies, yet often imbued with a euphemistic optimism.  Where as the pantheon of Grecian deities often seems an almost banal personification of psychological metaphors from the darker side of life.  Zeus a fallibly omnipotent being who pompously subverts all beneath him to his will.  Who along with Apollo and others roam the countryside ****** and adulterating the women of their choice.  And Ares the formidable God of war who’s natural lust for violence leads him and his cohorts to vicarious involvement with mankind’s altercations.

Egyptian theology seems to have been an amendable and progressive state that began with sun worship and gods of nature, and moved on to attempted assimilation of godlike traits through a natural alignment with the perceived nature of God.  There were in depth studies of the nature of time, and life, and notions of existential transcendentalism.  The momentum of this progression led them to the ultimate grandiose delusion in which the Pharaoh was worshiped as the universal supreme being, omniscient and omnipotent ruler of the ultimate utopian society. 
The Jews worshiped a God who was at once both a part of them  and an exogenous force believed to have created them in its own image. A God that deliberately instilled an understanding of it’s intended wisdom by instructing them of the laws they were to live by.  These divine revelations were often considered as the unadulterated word of God.  This God was jealous and demanded the adoration due him as the supreme essence.  His worship became the underlying force in their social conjecture as they attempted to inspire his continued grace and benevolence.  A seemingly irrational solution to the quandary of idealism.  An allegiance who’s impetus was unquestionable.  It seems by me to be improperly rooted on a personal level in that it overemphasizes the need or expectation of divine inspiration.

The ancient Chinese social wisdom was by me commendably rational.  Unlike the Jews they do not seem to have overemphasized the expectation of divine inspiration.  Instead they, like the Egyptians emphasized an alignment with the perceived nature of God on a personal level as the way to strength.  They of course had a conception of the possible natures of deity, but considered wisdom to be an honorably truthful self orientation.

Another realm of intellectual extrapolation from which one might hope to surmise a depthfully pervasive generality would be man’s philosophical treatises on the possible natures of God. Unfortunately due to the myriad nature of possibility this again appears paradoxically difficult.  To me this seems to be a product of the nonempirical nature of these conjectures.  Humans experience a reality which does not necessarily  have any relative effect on the transcendence of their conception of the possible nature of God. Although many have attempted to empiricise their conjectures through rational logic they are most often refuted by the possibility of ultimate transcendence or quandrified by the actuality of paradoxical argument.
Some good examples of these points are perhaps the arguments of Lucretius who attempted to empiricise that God can not revoke mathematical truths.  But what is the relative reality of those truths to the transcended essence of ultimate beingness.  They are refuted by irrelevance.  Another example might be the statement that God has aseity.  That is if he exists his existence is not caused.  This statement seems easy to refute for the supreme being could be all of the things possible for him except this and have evolved out of eons of cosmic continuum into natural omniscience and or through assimilation of the forces innate to the cosmos have achieved relative omnipotence.
One generally accepted statement that is refuted by these arguments is “the cosmos does not have infinite existence and is therefore not the supreme being.”  For if this supreme being has not yet evolved if it’s transcendental form could be said to have become out of cosmic continuum then the cosmos will indeed have achieved infiniteness.  But this already seems intuitively necessary to the ultimate cosmic essence regardless of a lack of self consciousness or even a physical form.  Perhaps what is possible and eons of void are the root of all force and matter, and perhaps this as yet unfulfilled sequence cycles on to nirvana.  Then again perhaps the supreme being does in fact preempt all as a self conscious entity.  This also would seem to be intuitively necessary to the essence of totality which of course has always existed and is in fact the supreme being in at that at that although not necessarily the true form of it’s transcendental being.
On this lofty note I would like to reiterate my thesis.  Perhaps we all could benefit from a reassessment of our affinity with God.

A man can accomplish many things with his concept of God. What is extraneous?  Perhaps the question would better be put what is expedient, but that becomes subjective.   You have to define your goals.  Where in lies wisdom?  Can man truly aspire to godhead or is this personally nonproductive?  Man seems to perceive a sort of manifest destiny for himself.  An intrinsic affinity with infiniteness that just must be dealt with.   Perhaps our beliefs in life after death are a grandiose delusion in which we hedonistically waste our time pampering our egos. Which brings me to my third and final argument.

Perhaps conscious regimentation and an affiliation with earth bound logic would bring us closer to our affinity with God.
One of the ideas presented by my philosophical references was that many of mankind’s inspirations to define his affinity with God grew inadvertently out of social realism and the powers assumed. Although often the subjective truths of these understandings went unmentioned out of a desire for objectivity.  For example what God must be if God is to be God.  Perhaps one would do better to relate personally to his affinity with God.

I think this is true.  Although we seem to lack omnipotence we are all individually speaking a preternatural corporeal state.  Perhaps we all should assert our godliness instead of hiding our talents in the sand.  Perhaps then we could construct a contractual reality.  An aspiration to the perfection of the human social mechanic.  I salute this concept.  In fact I firmly believe that by conscribing unalienable rights to our beings we have already performed the rights of the human social mechanic.  Our aspiration to godhead is complete in it’s conjecture.  All that is left is to obtain expedience and accuracy in our amendment toward continued obtainment of the majority goal.
Pantheism's orthogenesis overtures
Amanda Noel Jul 2019
A cartoonist's beginning, with pencil in hand,
The comics and stories set out in newsstands.
A director's performance becomes the end,
When power is too much to understand.
Few good recollections are mentioned
of a man with a heavy hand.

But, back to a finer time in his career,
When his vision seemed clearer.
The vessel was a bit easier to steer.

Animating Mouse cartoons and Silly Symphonies,
Motivated by arrogance and crafty planning.
He was elevated by his tendency,
nothing less than quality,
As well as his intensity.

He was a theatrical man,
From what I can understand,
Enthusiastically grand,
On desks and tables he'd stand.

Passion in his eyes,
To bring ideas alive,
With overwhelming strides,
For perfection in lines.

Acting out characters with a musical composer.
Painting their unique frame in tune,
With the beat,
a keep up
in overexposure,
Exuberant in all motions, he was a dream holder.

in Flowers and Trees,
Before this masterpiece,
Attended the Art Students League,
While working for a lumber company.

A man in love with trees.
"Don't turn my Sylvia into a toothpick!"
One character screams.
A love story of vanity.

Even the Big Bad Wolf
Hid behind trees.

Those Three Little Pigs,
That Technicolor spritz,
Colors as vibrant,
As a minds image,
animation fluid.

Things were no longer black or white
a wandering cat, colored in sight.
Streams of hues floating, by
a splitting prism dividing light.
A cow who recognized,
The necessity of saving butterflies

But, he let his ego stand in the way.
Obstructing his view, the things he'd say,
Minimalizing, to decay of pay.
He thought he was the top of the world those days.

I'm sure it would have been different,
If he wasn't dependent
On something so relentless
Molding him pretentious.

Perhaps he would have had a better handle on plans,
A mind sharpened,
A feather like grip on the pencil in hand,
Letting thoughts in his mind decorate beaches with Sand.

And Trees.
Cartoon Animation Biography;
Burton F. Gillett
Negra Jan 2016
You felt good
You went down smooth
I was a bit drunk on you
Elevated for a short time
You started making me sick.
I knew you were bad for my organs
But who cares about the inside anyways.
I vomited all I had of you
Hoping it'd make me feel better.
It was messy but honest.
All that went in was exposed.
So I slept on it.
I slept for a while.
I woke up expecting another day.
But I wasn't drunk anymore.
My organs weren't diluted with your toxins anymore.
I was just dry. Dehydrated. You took all my replenishments away.
I didn't get over it when you were gone though.
I was hung over.
Never wanted to see you again.
At the same time you were still there banging my head.
With time I'll feel better.
The motionless moving of time forever takes,
When time and nature banished me from the
existence of my younger years, and welcomed
me to adulthood,
I rejoiced the growths and within me I
reckoned the succession as death of his own
innocence and  birth of my present self.

Even as purpose, Love can blight your orchards or
Take you to the Eden within you.
When love broke me down, I only wished love
was a living creature so that I can crucify it or
hang its neck — such shadow.
But When love built for me a temple in someone’s
heart, I know nothing but worshiping it — such light.

Even as light, Faith can guide you or blind you.
When my cup was filled with faith,
I only obliged and bowed down to blind
obedience and follow the paths signed on my
forehead — an umbra indeed.
When I seek the truths about and filled my cup
with faith by my own self, I only met guidance
towards paths — a light indeed.
So save thy inner eyes from lights that blind
Save thy inner eyes for lights that reveal.

Even as power, knowledge can make you mighty or
a weak slave of arrogance.
When I began to seek knowledge, it ignited a little
arrogance in me and I deemed the ignorant ones
as those asleep — such shadow.
When I began to know the depths of true knowledge — wisdom,
it elevated my degree of pity towards humankind and
made my spirit self calm — such peaceful light.

When I taught those that I opened my eyes before them,
And those that opened their eyes before me,
I told them in all and all we welcome to ourselves,
To find their trueness we must know
What they define in us ———
Is it a waking light? Or casted umbra?
Amanda Jan 2018

Another year has come and gone,
I realize now that I was wrong,
For ******* at you way too long,
Blaming you for us not getting along,
Arguing with you until dawn,
We go back and forth just like ping-pong,
About all of the crazy conclusions I've drawn,
Now it's eggshells we are walking upon,
I hate that you are distant and withdrawn,
I'm trying but it's so hard to be strong,
I know that with you is where my heart belongs,
I'm reminded each time I hear our song,
This feeling is one I wish I could prolong,
Your love is a drug, I love to be on.


It's hard for me to say, but I'm addicted to loving you,
Always chasing my next fix, you are what I pursue,
I need to feel your high, I need to have you close,
I just want to fill up on your love, so I can overdose.


Baby you know you are my everything, my high when I am low,
You pick me up when i am down, I can't let you go,
You really are the best thing, that I have ever found,
When I'm with you i feel like I'm ten feet off the ground,
Nothing can compare to you, babe you are the best,
But when I'm too far away from you, I turn into a mess.
To the point I will do anything to feel your caress,
And rub my hands across your bare chest,
I don't know why I do this, a different side of me emerges,
When you get me alone and I give into my urges,
Since I had a taste I'm craving you and no one else,
It's obvious I'm strung out, all my friends say I need help.



We've been staying up too late,
This addiction I'm growing to hate,
My mind is fuzzy I can't think straight,
I've even started to lose weight,
When you penetrate me we levitate,
I'm elevated, my pupils dilate.
I try to slow down, gradually wean,
Myself off of the magic inside of your jeans,
But hard as I try I can't break the routine,
I'm beginning to think I'll never stay clean.



I'm addicted to your love, though it's tough to admit,
This habit is one I'm not sure I can quit.
This is my first attempt at writing rap but I think it came out great. Any feedback would be soooo appreciated!
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2015
.ich gerande kam, von unter die eisenvorhang.... (i just came, from under the iron-curtain): mir, sein geworfen unter eine siliziumvorhang... wann werden sie halt, in berufung es ein tal?! i just came from under the iron curtain... i'm under a silicon curtain, valley? what valley?! your western communists are worse than the originary eastern europeans: Edvard Gierek... coal miners... sick of socks you ******* mocassin trannies... i coined the term, first siliziumvorhang! dead-end eisenvorhang... what valley, what curtain?! this curtain! this valley! cultural-marxism coupled with cultural-darwinism... the perfect storm... i just wanted my jukebox back, man, did i really require independented politco commentators? not really, no, i really didn't... i just wanted my music algorithm back... like: ******* will you ever get it back... thank you... *******... both sides are to blame... both the independent creators and the multi-billionaire hog feeders... trebble up! the number of homeless people, via youtube...  "creator" these days, also implies: vulture regurgitation of news content, elevated comment section... what a prize to be envious of! i quiet simply tire of h'american commentary... hiroshima ego tripping is about done it for me... i have come from under the iron curtain...
now i'm sieving ******* from under the silicon curtain... because and also: as if: the scot blonde comb-over golfer nominee really matters... point being: i have no where else to go... if i'm escaping the iron curtain, while being forced under the silicon curtain... i'm going nowhere... i'm like a cancer: hell, if there's no place for me to go... hit the brain, give it a malignant tumour... h'america was once the: only escape financial back-up plan... now? i'm not so sure... i don't believe in h'america... i'll buy theit ****... but that's about it... thank god i never visisted h'america, thank god i visisted russia... i'd visit h'america: if only i had the ego compass of a worth of ebola... i don't want to visit h'america, too much of it is already exported... i see too many englishmen ******* off the export manifesto... it's already gauging at my eyes... thank god i visisted russia rather than h'america... i pray to god to never visit that godforsaken place of the forgery of worships.

a police van almost sounds japanese in polish: sūka; i rode one once, being picked up unconscious on the pave after being given a ******* drug... i can usually walk the double yellow of the highway code straight... after a bottle of whiskey... reasoning from that... my drink must have been spiked; and yes, sūka is also a derivative of a female dog: you know that lying in terms of writing is also called structure and planning? look here... haphazard composition in the vein of mahler.

i never write more than i read:
i have to keep the libra balance;
and i never write
with the intention of spontaneity;
as before precision syllables
only craft synonymity of:
i / aye / why / lie / fly / cry...
the one vowel in each that’s stressed superior
to the other letters used...
obviously we can claim a bargain: 2 4 1 (two for one!)
bunch of bananas 2 quid spare,
get yer bananas!
that market selling call resounds in a crescendo of echoes
among the walruses and 1960s risqué pop:
what? it's romford, the river rom acts as a sewer
on the sly... and it's a market town after all;
that's hardly a reason to call romford hull & larkin:
did you know that geography poster next to
the library changes colour? yeah,
it changes from avocado green to dark moss green,
and you can spot romford, gidea park, hornchurch
and upminster and rainham on the map?
i noticed the change in neon hue just last
night, having a beer and a cigarette: policespotting
the 'outside the five roundabouts' rule of
public drinking allowance.
Seanathon Sep 2018
Inches away from you
        Never there but ever present
        As your breath is lifted up unto the heavens

Elevated is the air upon your words
        Escalated, the anticipation of your voice
        Among the noise

Where the only scene to see is peace
        Held quietly in reverie
        And respect for your mere presence

Find with ease
        The smile of the self-reveals
        A quietness of hearts appeal

Not to be seen
        But to seek the conversation speak
        And to peak the words of interesting

Mere inches now away from me
        With no voice let to find the time
        Or threnodic melody

Don’t let me down
        My inward voice
My articulation often fails me because I secretly want it to fail (so as not to try again). But still, when she walks by, this is what I often hear. Inspired by Goldmunds - Threnody |
Dondaycee Jul 2018
After I graduated, I thought about two things,
I’m certified, I am now apart of “the people”,
All I have to do is make a choice and I’ll find success,
Gave it my best, “no test?”; I had to teach,
No stress, I had to be,
The O next to the V,
The ego; “which is me”
V+V=4, it’s a six thing; you know love without the zeas,
But with the zeal; well; Overcoming Variables was never a test,
-Or a problem; I speak geometry, I took 2D, made it 3D, and that was simultaneously; how could I not be the best…
(What is a, reiteration?)
Two lovers, Zodiac signs,
Balanced is equivalent to love,
Be here, focus on now,
Now look up the meaning of dove…
If you think linear, you saw the O next to the V,
If you think like me, you saw the six steps in between,
I had to put my ego beside me or else I couldn’t teach,
That only happened because I met a woman who was a reflection of me,
It literally was a zodiac thing, that type of thing sparked protection with/in me;
There’s no uncertainty in my reality; I’m certainly certain,
I don’t see nature Changing,
I see people Loopin,
“Why” the (people) Shooting;
Their mind: This isn’t Workin;
Knowing for a fact; the solution occurs during the attempt; in working,
(Cliff Swallow); People Symbolism;
Outcome, United is; if chirping…
Well… I’m just saying (it) worked,
Because I no longer have belief; I’m a knower,
I mastered Mind, no need to grow up,
Please don’t say –“show us the-”-because the waves not for us,
If for is four, I’m removing it; not us;
Notice; Not Only That, Us…
It’s time to meditate,
Breathe and wait;
Losing all my words; like I had no say,
I’ve been a wave cause I flow with waaaves,
Change is who I am… I’ll reiterate;
By 7th grade,
I was late,
Happiness was mad; I had to elevate,
When I graduate (-ed),
Thought: “I couldn’t make “it””
Happiness was sad; that’s why I elevated,
Didn’t have a voice; that’s why I hesitated,
Now I have no voice because I -
Next page