"emitted" poems
Dandelions are the most independent flower.
They grow where they want.
No one plants them.
They’re free.
They’re infinite.
I felt infinite picking them in the apple orchard with you.
We were free.
We were infinite.
I couldn't handle my smile watching you,
Rip them out of the earth by the handfuls.
Your face was covered in sunshine and pollen.
It might have been the pollen that resembled sunlight.
Regardless,
You emitted the sun in a way I've never seen before.
I refuse to accept that dandelions are weeds,
Because I want to be a dandelion with you.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 11:17 PM UTC
Trying to find solace in the suburbs
when everything seemed superb
like that cookie-cutter,
picket fence,
faux fur mentality
they instill at the start
Just an infant with scars
He reached for her baby bump,
Then slammed it hard
onto the stairwell
She fell, wept, and held
That lil princess
and prayed she'd never have the same hell
All grown up. Alive and well
shes got different demons
different intricate cells
It's been said
she is special she is awake
But, in many ways
She is the same
As that ANGEL who carried her 23 years ago
That's debt I'll always owe
A gift I'll never own
Carefully Constructed
and Creatively Sewn
shoved a soul into that shell
That'll one day guide her back home
Shes got her mamas tough, yet gentle heart
her smile, brevity and love for art..
she can write her *** off
like her
the wrote and the writ
Yet she's plagued by guilt
every ******* minute
GUILT for the life that she'd been given
GUILT for each exhale emitted
She prays that God will have the sense
to go back in time and hit OMIT
(on all chapters even close to the word 'human'
there's GUILT for feeling guilty even more for despising your own )
"I must've slipped through the gate, admit it!
Or recruit another for your mission
regretfully, I must solicit
that I'm not fit for this position
I'm no hero
I'm the villain
If ya look close you'll see
I spit venom"
Mama walks in
smiles and says
"WE.
ARE.
WOMEN!"
"Betta recognize and
quit your bitchin'
as of today, you are living..
You are loved
You are safe
You are ************* winning
WARRIOR,
CREATOR,
QUEEN,
GODDESS,
INCARNATE..
We are strength & We are the faith
never to be broken
but we still stay brave
The Legend wont start
or end with you
Its a fight stretched out
through time
You will understand soon
No matter how much you ask
"WHY"
It wont stop circumstance
wont stop lies
wont stop suffering
and will NEVER compromise
Your in the way of the wave, child
This..... the secret to life
When in the way of the wave...
its only a matter of time
S0 if youre searching for solace
Will you promise
To memorize this line
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 3:54 AM UTC
Gatsby was in love;
completely infatuated
with another being
The way he looked at her
with his anxious eyes
exhibited a love that couldn't be greater
And
the words he spoke
emitted such fondness
for her rosy lips against his
as he whispered sweet stories
that he irresistibly imagined
of their future together
he fell so in love--
he fell so tragically and desperately
in l o v e--
he lost himself completely
and became absent
in his own consciousness
trusting false hopes,
refusing to let go of what would
never be his
and if this insanity is what they call
true love--
if this is what one experiences
when such passion takes over--
then I, too
have gone Gatsby for you.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 3:44 PM UTC
I was a flailing phoenix
Trapped underneath a waterfall
Unable to rise from the ashes
While being continuously extinguished
Until you constructed a dam
With the flotsam from my heart
I opened my wings and emitted light
Fearing waterfalls I took my fire flight
I was elated to have migrated
Where the weather was tropical
And the conditions seemed optimal
But your aggravating absence
Endeared an enigmatic essence
A vengeful apparition
That conjured rain
I desperately craved your protection from the elements
Until I noticed the precipitation was my infatuation
For you and the things you do
The things you build
Make rivers stay still
And the things you say
Make me regret being gay
Because you're a ******
You live in your exclusive dam
Your teeth are like cleavers
Gnawing on sacrificial lamb
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 7:12 AM UTC
The left of center
are in north bound throes of a dupe
and can't begin to forecast this wonder of polluted marvel,
in the morrow
my optics discharged in a catastrophic traversal
While whimsy and accidental feels like I've taken pills
a power rain this sobbing has spilled
No longer to be contained based on sheer will
Attacked by neurotic transcending
While sifting through files and photo stacks
Came across multiples of your smiling face
From when I shot you, a couple hundred miles back
No one would dare debase the abundance of your emitted grace
Bloodshot mist eyed and blind from tears
control lost during transport steer
Drips off my cheek pouring down my chest
Could make great sense to don a life vest
Filling up floorboards like a spraying firehose
Shattering cascades diamondize the windows
A single glance at an image turns farmland into rural seaquake
If they interview my lifeless corpse what a headline this will make,
turning tragedy into a foolish mistake
people will curse and laugh
Paved over roads now films unseen
when dusk fuse night from the weep my eyes dispensed
Elements effected by incidents
Rising waves climb over to decimate interstate 65
All over a tiny tear drop and her sweet smiling photograph
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 8:01 PM UTC
Modern athletes, strong and buff,
These days are tested soon and late
just to prove their skill and strength
are free of anabolic taint.
Ryan Braun, the M.V.P.
was tested thus occasionally.
He didn't seem the type to me
to boost his skills unnaturally.
Thus imagine my surprise
to learn the ***** he supplied
contained synthetic Testosterone
Brewer fans emitted groans.
Now it seems he's off scot free
based on a technicality.
He will not have to serve the ban
imposed on many a lesser man.
Opening day, reserve the date;
Braun will be there at the plate
His many fans will come to see
Ryan Braun, the M.V. ***
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 5:28 PM UTC
drought dry only a fortnight, and no trace
of the swimmers--not a bloated bass or a skeletal carp
only a few lily pads burnt russet by the sun
all else, perverse interlopers from modernity:
bullet banged beer cans, truck tires,
and the ubiquitous bottle water plastic
waiting patiently for the next ice age
no sign of one fish that emitted a last gilled gasp here
deep beneath the bed though
progenitors rest, theirs and ours,
antediluvian, Permian, as permanent as the word allows
my footfalls above them today
tomorrow silent where they lay
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 4:06 PM UTC
On a pondering Morning, watching the Sun Rise, I see off in the Distance a Twirling Fog bank ! It was the calmest of Mornings, So what TWISTS the fog ? Even the sound of Footprints being Quickly made, I could hear Running across the Misty Glade . An Echo of Light seemed to follow the Pace, As well as did the turning of the Fog . What, Pray Tell, Could I be Privy too on this New Morning ? The Foot path beats seemed to be coming closer, But still Unseen because of the Clouded Steps. I CRIED OUT "Is someone there?" and again "Is someone there?" NOT a reply except the approaching sounds and sights ! As if Music to my ears, a Melody emitted from the scene, Coming closer each second. I Realized that Anticipation and Peace of Mind were Overwhelming me ! NO fear or apprehension crossed my mind, Just a lifting of my Spirits, as not but a few feet away, ALL Three were nearly to me ! The Footpath Sounds, The Twisting mist, The melody of Calling.... Then, What seemed like 7 Minutes of a Total Earth Quiet Time ! Out from the Mist Stepped a Glistening Golden, Shimmering in Velvet, Raven Haired to HER Waist..Loveliest of Women ever to be Seen ! As she began to speak, it was as if each word became forever imprinted in my Mind ! She Proclaimed in a voice so Gentle and Concise that she was Sent,, Sent, SO I might See, What a Gift from GOD Looks Like, "MY GILDED MUSE". Tears filling my eyes as Her indwelling within me BECAME COMPLETE.......
Jan 12, 2011
Jan 12, 2011 at 3:42 AM UTC
~and for Harlan, who loved this one best~
*"for tandem is the ever-changing, graying color of their fierce attached tenacity"
waking/walking in
careful pacing regular lock steps,
like new cadets, counting cadence,
in perfect silent, almost motionless,
except for the minuscule quivering of
slightly parted moving lips
these two elders,
still now plebes,
freshmen
but of a latter, graduated stage,
demonstrating robustly
the slow shuffle-along,
a well practiced dance conjured
'in tandem'
her arm, crooked in his,
his other hand,
in protective custody of a
knight's armored chain glove
encasing hers,
he, shuffling just,
a precise, intended half-a-beat slower
lest she ever think
that she, ever be a drag upon him
hair, his,
threaded with daily,
new arriving grays,
proudly accepted
as the privilege of
graceful aging
hers,
disguised with periodic outings,
outings for the hidings of life's bookmarks,
conceding nothing ever to
time's lunatic desire to separate them
modest in dress,
styling hints of pasts' elegant,
the man's hat defiant,
daringly jaunty angled,
a small scarf to handbag knotted,
matching his Windsor knotted tie
the passers-by, all smile,
the signal charm of an
end game processional,
thinking so sweet,
yet mine eyes detect more,
something
hardy and radical
a fierce, fierce fierceness,
both fighters in the resistance,
armed with tandem tenacity,
ground given,
but only inches surrendered,
wounds resisted by
scar skin toughened
by the caress of ions bonding
under the pressure
of atomic level mutuality
worn out,
well past Purple Hearts,
no capitulation feared,
to the ever changing,
enemies' new disguises,
they,
a two person platoon,
each,
having the other's back
and I burst into tears on the street,
a train of out loud moans,
even groans emitted,
like a string of perfect pearls
breaking,
clattering on an asphalt terrain
weeping
not
from visions of the inevitable,
sighing
not
from the certitude of a
cycle's uptime ending*
but jealous furious by this reminder delightful,
angry at myself, for having lost so many wasted years,
mine, the loss greatest, for absent was the
fierce tenacity of tandem
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 8:41 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, new poem:)
not the best lens emitted such light
delicate weathers upon previous sights
in a dived listening exile
the carry of the Earth in a swift's mile
in the blink
the week's blur and the paint's sink
raging on red sunsets
raging on yellow's pale sulfur the dreams let
the twirl of winds
on the worlds of the flipped
like in every sky
the one of the days that the one of the nights
fogs in a hurry
what's grey is the face of worry
never know if you don't see for yourself
that the clouds above this roof are the same above that shelf
not always a purple fairytale
August slipped away a coat in the cruelest detail
haven't even begun them storms
the already seen is a scare out of the norm
peace to heart
yet my mind awoke in fear from each start
these bugging times
are the times of memory loss in a hellish crime
the one sun the one full moon
how stars shine mystically reaching future's soon
and me in here as shown
tracing a map of the intuition's unknown
delusion
maybe a disguised mood before the ultimate confusion
the one month of picking up pieces
the dark is long so sleepless to the hope decreases
yet I do know that the same will return in ease and flow
been recalling that for the last two years in a row
the outer skies
now a reason to fly
-------ravenfeels
Aug 22, 2021
Aug 22, 2021 at 6:35 PM UTC
For, a four legged companion,
A solitary
Gravel smoked voice clips instructions,
Harsh sharp whistles echo cross the valley floor,
Emitted by crag worn features.
Piercing eyes, sun bleached.
Skin hewn by dry stone walls.
Hands created by granite.
Coarse tousled hair guards against howling winds.
The hardworking man at peace with his surrounds.
© Nick Strong 2014
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
The snow is falling
The traffic is crawling
The world looks all calm and bright
If only for a moment everything looks pure under the freshly fallen snow and the glow emitted by the first snowfall of the season
My mood is happy I hope it lasts all season and throughout the new year too.
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 2:07 PM UTC
What gives you the right to
judge me,
criticism wasn't asked
so why you
open your mouth,
What's your prerequisite
to make assumption's
& judgments-
Constructive criticism
my ***
My
ADHD
PT-SD
Dyslexia Anxiety
& dealings with you
caused me a break down,
got me
chronically depressed,
You say you only
want the best for me,
Well shut up & let me be!
pill popping just so my E.E.D.
(Emitted explosive disorder)
wont cause me
to become
sentience
with life
new labels
would say
******
if you keep bothering me
I ain't stupid-
So stop talking down to me
Im not illiterate
******* I read
So let me be
No I don't have TS
(tourette syndrome)
I ******* cuss
cuz I wanna
so shut the hell up
I know right from wrong
I'm no psychopath
Then again
I just might be since
I could give a flying ****
about you
weather you live or die
I wouldn't cry.
Your making it harder
for ya self not me just go way
Doc
Do ya got **** Job,
I don't want to talk anymore
My past is where I left it
Behind me
You deal with it
Cuz
I already did & do
For you that
call your selves
wanting to help....
My OCD
(Obsessive-compulsive disorder)
is personal
So what if I wash
my hands& ***
3 or more times
I'm not stupid
or deaf
I have
Selective Hearing
Nor am I ********
that's how
I say hello
with my middle finger
I told you,
I'm not ********
***** I'm Special!
Always Me Ayeshah
Mar 10, 2010
Mar 10, 2010 at 7:15 PM UTC
I took the first sip of white wine in
trepidation for the aftermath of drunk
people in movies is not very pleasant.
I downed it all, faster than an intruder
who wiretaps an important building
somewhere in America. I had vowed to
not drown in the poison I had just consumed.
But what happened later proved me wrong.
I swam in clouds and I floated in shallow
waters for the slurs that lay on my tongue
were not something I would utter in a
sober state. I cavorted. I danced. I showed
skin. I was the frog that clandestinely dances
in the rain and hides away before the ground
is dry again. I swirled like a whirlpool. My cheeks
were red and I emitted happiness. I made silly
jokes about a plant named Wisteria and lay
in bed, twirling away in my drunken madness.
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 8:08 AM UTC
I am gazing at an evening sky,
So fascinating! That these words are deprived to imply
It seems like a huge canvas,
That nature has painted so brilliantly taking its own time.
And with all its instinct & power that made it a bit divine.
It is certainly an incomparable art piece,
With fringes of scattered clouds amidst reflecting the rambling rays of setting sun
Best illustrating the sapient strokes of most blended colours that an artist can learn.
And that soothing cold breeze that flows through my fingers strengthening the happiness of being here.
And the whole scenery so elegant,
Stealing my contemplation so well,
That I feel unable to move my eyes from there.
I kept on staring it till the last emitted ray of the drowning sun dove into the deep darkened horizon
and the twinkling stars came, indicating the advent of another night of this beautiful autumn season.
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 1:02 PM UTC
We are forward open thinkers
we dream of a new
without forgetting what was
With peculiarities spawned eccentricity
to keep us ourselves as one,
like no one
Without urge to be separate
we are oneself
together, we stand alone
Side stepped and vertically diagonal with grace, not trials in stride
From the waking moment routine
each day changes course
with similarities
while optional barriers are welcome
to overcome with effort
And using that effort to affect wisdoms spread and elongate strength
We work for our capacity,
at home we also work,
to make a better day
To create,
To expand
to not keep motionless
our minds
our hands
our brains in bloom.
And think and hold this knowledge tight
at one point it will open the mind of our young, to lose self and to give.
To always give.
Minimize me, I, or mine.
Talk through with question,
regardless of proof, or wrongfulness.
And wonder about laws and why?
We think. We know.
To traverse with love
In between and the seconds linking,
we desire
The ones we are near, can feel without doubt and never wonder if love was emitted.
We will communicate frequently
how they make us whole and have affected us to completion
and reraise when obstacles come towards
With complex strength and wage forward,
insist the double down
Using knowledge, work, perseverance,
and to bring it all home
To positively conquer
...using love.
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 3:35 PM UTC
This is all I need. The glowing screen is all I'll ever need. I don't require friends nor family. I have everything right in front of me. This wretched device that I waste my life on. It doesn't matter, I'll just continue to tap away at this keyboard. I don't care about the joy others may feel. Why should I feel anything? All of my friends lie right here. I'll just hide behind all the LOLs and :)'s. Feelings don't matter anymore. I sit alone in this dark room, with the only light being emitted from the laptop in front of me. Only the glowing screen matters now.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
Enter the dark parts of my mind.
The pieces that aren't really pieces
but are like the vast black holes
sprinkled throughout the universe
You'll never leave
imprinted in my gray matter forever
Lost and spinning
You may resurface every now and then,
forcing my brain cells to collide and remind me of you
I wish I could rip you from my memories,
extinguish the artificial light you emitted
But what would happen then?
What is a thing without what came before?
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 1:01 AM UTC
I remember you spirt in the Chelsea Flophouse
you were opening one's lips so gorgeous and so creamy
greasing me stamen on the unfucked bonk
while the bangers let it rip in the alley
Those were the diseased minds and that was Newfangled York
we were squirting for the wads and the meatballs
and that was gobbled snog for the creamers inside Gloria
centrifugally stiff is thus those of White House Nazis
Ah but you copulated telescopic didn't you basket case
you just acidified your jockstrap on the shoulders of the scrum
you copulated telescopic I never once heard you use sign language
I input you, I don't intake you
I input you, I don't intake you
and all of that balling hard on
I remember you spirt in the Chelsea Flophouse
you were gorilla—like your ****** *********** was absolute epic
you leaked me again you frocked slap—up old salt
but for me you would **** an unzipping
And shaving your tongue because the creatures lust after us
who are barked at by the Daleks of *** appeal
you Rohypnolled yourself you emitted jet so what?
we are radioactive salvo we shoot full of holes the stride piano
*** one fine morning you copulated telescopic didn't you cocker
you just blunted your extremity on the cattle
you copulated telescopic I never once smelled you emit
I intake you, I don't input you
I intake you, I don't input you
and all of that balling hard on
I don't mean to insinuate that I slobbered over you peanuts
I can't withhold *********** of each crouched ****
I remember you spirt in the Chelsea Flophouse
that's oodles I don't even kick—start you that thick and fast
Mar 29, 2010
Mar 29, 2010 at 3:36 PM UTC
(it's cliché to admonish clichés in their entirety)
I. (love)
We are meant to live the clichés;
we are meant to resuscitate the words,
and rehabilitate their wounds
into a fertile viewpoint
where we build respirators from clichés
to filter the virulent dust kicked up
by the marching pigs.
(re-invented clichés offer back breath
in an exchange of circular breathing)
The swine contort love
into armaments of antipathy;
they push buttons,
squeeze triggers,
pull pins,
and aim where it causes the most damage.
Even though we are natural born hypocrites,
we don't have to let that knowledge corner us
into using love as a weapon.
The pen is mightier than the sword,
and I wield both;
I sharpen the quill on the blade's edge.
If need be, use the pen for a counter-strike,
but only channel love in defence.
II. (poetry)
The pigs march to a beat
of nuclear blasts
that bring poetry's flag
nearer to half-mast.
Poetry should stand on its own merit,
instead of leaning on shanks that hide behind smiles
constructed with aspirations of popularity
that churn out lazy, aspartame-laced lines
devoid of accountability and integrity,
or lean upon smiles filled with slivers
from far too much fence-sitting,
too worried about the trending majority,
to see the complexity within simplicity
and clarity,
or
propped-up against degrees
while writing poems that are drier than the Sahara:
husks of lines tumbling across dunes,
only to be imploded
by atomic-pork mushroom clouds,
their fallout marring parchment
into a poisonous terrain.
.
III. (dreams)
(revive, twist, and switch the clichés )
We must not fear saying "never".
Surrender to love, but never surrender
to the jealous captains who attempt
to hook and net the defenders of Neverland.
With compasses of conscience
beating in hearts kept young,
navigate through the smoke and mirror-smog
emitted by the marching pigs.
(we must never give up on our dreams)
Dream about the courage needed
to love everyone and everything,
including our enemies
who conduct genocide
on the language of a purer intent.
Dream about word-seedlings
pushing through the arid rind
of dying poetry,
in hope for a more organic fruition
to grow in our hearts and minds,
so that poetry gains back its strength and vitality
to once again stand on its own merit.
+/-
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 6:38 PM UTC
*Tonight, when I walked in the rain,
Raindrops gently fell upon my face,
Bringing fond memories of you again.
When we watched the stars, sparkle with reign,
And the crescent moon, emitted a translucent light,
Bringing a sensational feeling, that I couldn't refrain.
Without you life goes by very slowly, and it's difficult to explain,
Since you are the one, who blinds me when you're near,
And cuddles me when I am lonely, taking away all of my pain.*
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 12:06 AM UTC
In the name of Allah, Most Gracious, Most Merciful.
************************************ ****************
1. I do call to witness the Resurrection Day;
2. And I do call to witness the self-reproaching spirit: (Eschew Evil) .
3. Does man think that We cannot assemble his bones?
4. Nay, We are able to put together in perfect order the very tips of his fingers.
5. But man wishes to do wrong (even) in the time in front of him.
6. He questions: 'When is the Day of Resurrection? '
7. At length, when the sight is dazed,
8. And the moon is buried in darkness.
9. And the sun and moon are joined together, -
10. That Day will Man say: 'Where is the refuge? '
11. By no means! No place of safety!
12. Before thy Lord (alone) , that Day will be the place of rest.
13. That Day will Man be told (all) that he put forward, and all that he put back.
14. Nay, man will be evidence against himself,
15. Even though he were to put up his excuses.
16. Move not thy tongue concerning the (Qur'an) to make haste therewith.
17. It is for Us to collect it and to promulgate it:
18. But when We have promulgated it, follow thou its recital (as promulgated) :
19. Nay more, it is for Us to explain it (and make it clear) :
20. Nay, (ye men!) but ye love the fleeting life,
21. And leave alone the Hereafter.
22. Some faces, that Day, will beam (in brightness and beauty) : -
23. Looking towards their Lord;
24. And some faces, that Day, will be sad and dismal,
25. In the thought that some back-breaking calamity was about to be inflicted on them;
26. Yea, when (the soul) reaches to the collar-bone (in its exit) ,
27. And there will be a cry, 'Who is a magician (to restore him) ? '
28. And he will conclude that it was (the Time) of Parting;
29. And one leg will be joined with another:
30. That Day the Drive will be (all) to thy Lord!
31. So he gave nothing in charity, nor did he pray! -
32. But on the contrary, he rejected Truth and turned away!
33. Then did he stalk to his family in full conceit!
34. Woe to thee, (O men!) , yea, woe!
35. Again, Woe to thee, (O men!) , yea, woe!
36. Does man think that he will be left uncontrolled, (without purpose) ?
37. Was he not a drop of ***** emitted (in lowly form) ?
38. Then did he become a leech-like clot; then did ((Allah)) make and fashion (him) in due proportion.
39. And of him He made two sexes, male and female.
40. Has not He, (the same) , the power to give life to the dead?
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 2:58 AM UTC
The vulture's wicked eyes awaits for his flesh
He is ready
Withered
All rotten but still breathing
Almost numb
Lying in this bed of ice
Searing his heart like fire
The darkness veiled
his room of fragrant memories of her
Now bound to oblivion
He reached out his hands
trying to catch the dust of his past
But he can only manage a twitch in his fingers
All he can do is savor
This perfume of her that still lingers
Like a waterfall
His tears fell for his dear flower
Then a sharp pain in his chest and a whisper
Inaudible but he felt it was real
His eyes wander
He catches his last breath
His lids close in reconciliation
Whilst he heard wings that flutter
The pain cuts to black
The heavens accepted his submission
Then
He's back
Like a dip in the water
A renewed soul
He never felt better
Pitch black as the skies
Unfamiliar but he felt home
A silhouette shines from afar
like the radiance of the day
A sight almost blinding
but he can't refuse the invitation
The garden bloomed like the spring
with all the archangels' salutations
And when this silken hands held him
they emitted all the colors
Now he remembers her saying
"I'll be seeing you my love."
In his death bed
All the while
She was waiting
-Death Bed, Margaret Austin Go
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 12:19 PM UTC