"encountering" poems
it's 3:23 in the morning
and I'm awake
because my great great grandchildren
won't let me sleep
my great great grandchildren
ask me in dreams
what did you do while the planet was plundered?
what did you do when the earth was unraveling?
surely you did something
when the seasons started failing?
as the mammals, reptiles, birds were all dying?
did you fill the streets with protest
when democracy was stolen?
what did you do
once
you
knew?
I'm riding home on the Colma train
I've got the voice of the milky way in my dreams
I have teams of scientists
feeding me data daily
and pleading I immediately
turn it into poetry
I want just this consciousness reached
by people in range of secret frequencies
contained in my speech
I am the desirous earth
equidistant to the underworld
and the flesh of the stars
I am everything already lost
the moment the universe turns transparent
and all the light shoots through the cosmos
I use words to instigate silence
I'm a hieroglyphic stairway
in a buried Mayan city
suddenly exposed by a hurricane
a satellite circling earth
finding dinosaur bones
in the Gobi desert
I am telescopes that see back in time
I am the precession of the equinoxes,
the magnetism of the spiraling sea
I'm riding home on the Colma train
with the voice of the milky way in my dreams
I am myths where violets blossom from blood
like dying and rising gods
I'm the boundary of time
soul encountering soul
and tongues of fire
it's 3:23 in the morning
and I can't sleep
because my great great grandchildren
ask me in dreams
what did you do while the earth was unraveling?
I want just this consciousness reached
by people in range of secret frequencies
contained in my speech
©2003
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
He sits there, so comfortably, in his chosen pathway of truth and reality
This man, before me, is well nourished on the fruits of the physical world, the place time passes honestly
But, before my very eyes, I see he is struggling
He has sensed the potential that this woman and he can possess
But she is yet to join him, and yet to have the same premonition.
Should your hope dwindle, remember this
Hold on to that air between your finger and thumb,
No, it is not lifeless, it is not dead air,
It is not a vacuum for breath and life like the world we both still honour.
Remember that despite such brief encountering, we have been kindred spirits for an eternity.
Make proper use of this once beautiful connection,
Allow me, whenever you feel doubt, to do what will forever be our strength
Let me hope for you.
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 2:09 PM UTC
Why might I ask, doth a path lie here
Amidst thorns and angry boughs
Why path, doth thy lie here
When you leadeth nowhere
For so long hath I traveled
Encountering oh so many dangers
Nowhere may I walk
Without a vicious hand drawing up sword
Fiery hate, burning steel
Alas, another life must I rip away
For I cannot lie down and die, no!
Ah, Tamriel, may I not just live in peace
Nay, into your war drawn, a side I must choose
And follow seemingly endless, pointless paths
Much akin to the one lying before me
Ordered to **** **** ****
No peace until one or the other side is annihilated
Upon my shoulders this burden lies
Betraying many whom hath trusted me along the way
Until one way or another a corrupted man lies in control
Then off again down another dreary path
Dark Brotherhood seeking my assistance
Ah, but thou art vile murderers
Down with ye all!!
My blade vows never to rise to such hatred and angst
Dragonborn, Dragonborn! Help us please!
Fetch the Elder Scroll, Banish the evil!
Yet another burden
It would seem all of Tamriel needs at least one favor
Yet I do not shy away
For I love thee, Skyrim
I love the smiles good deeds bring, the thanks
I will continue to fight for what I believe
Until to Sovngarde's arms I am graced
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 8:26 PM UTC
Snake in the Grass…by Jessie 6/06
Be weary of where you put your feet
There's a snake hiding in the grass
Slithering in and out of holes
Waiting to attack
Although, unseen, his agenda sure
His plan set into motion
One false move, he will strike you
Without a trace of emotion
He has a way of getting close
Manipulating along the way
Just as you think all is safe
He’ll cut back the other way
Many are fearful, encountering the snake
It’s the position that he holds
Using it to paralyze
And make your blood run cold
But he’s just a snake, like any snake
A tail and a head
Separate the two of them
You’ll find that he is dead
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
1628
A Drunkard cannot meet a Cork
Without a Revery—
And so encountering a Fly
This January Day
Jamaicas of Remembrance stir
That send me reeling in—
The moderate drinker of Delight
Does not deserve the spring—
Of juleps, part are the Jug
And more are in the joy—
Your connoisseur in Liquours
Consults the Bumble Bee—
4.3k
Speak
When you speak I see cascades of life.
Life and light tend to look the same.
Your light is turquoise and the color of jade sitting just beneath the surface of choppy water.
When you speak I feel heat.
You have yet to burn me.
You are the steady warmth of new born embers of a fire
yet to blaze. When you speak I smell salt water.
Even with a sting, you’re the most refreshing thing.
The ocean is not as paradoxical as your passionately
calm surface. When you speak I taste loneliness.
Bitter sweet like underripe tangerines.
I cannot know this beautiful mind of yours without encountering cold, rusty, metal walls
When you speak I hear midnight.
You know how to play the silences.
I hold my breath waiting for the next sentence you’re carefully, mysteriously orchestrating. Whisper or shout
speak to me againHole in my heart
Speak Karijinbba Beloved!
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 1:51 PM UTC
love,
we are either in love, falling in love, or falling out of it
there are many ways to explain the term of love.
some of us are too numb to feel any of it
so we hide underneath the covers because love is in the air
if only we can see that not all love is not all bad.
i am afraid of falling in love so i hide and decline my thoughts
i rather stay to myself than to get hurt with the emotions inside me
i learned this by encountering it
i know out there id find someone
but now is like a rotten fruit next to perfect veggies
were all just little kids looking for a beautiful someone
i don't want to hurt no more
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 2:37 PM UTC
It’s been a while…
It truly has been a while since I’ve written here, but yesterday I was triggered, inspired if you will; inspired to write this and let it be real.
When I was a child, 2nd grade to be exact, I befriended a girl on the school bus and long story short she spent my entire 2nd grade year manipulating me into all kinds of ****** acts not only with her but with other classmates. I was told by this girl, my classmate, another child, a second grader that everything we were doing was okay, it was all okay. Why?? Because her and her sisters did this kind of thing all the time.
To me as a child it made sense I guess, but she also threatened that if I ever told anyone as in ANYONE she would tell them it was all my fault all my idea. All of the staying in classrooms when no one was there, hiding and being told to do things that were beyond a child’s or even some adult’s comprehension, the hiding anywhere and everywhere and the fear of being caught it all was in my hands, and if i told I was to blame.
This went on for an entire year, or so who knows I blacked it out, but I vividly remember using a journal I got as gift to document it all detailed and when I got scared my mom would find it… I ripped the pages to shreds. And I killed the memory. I went my entire life until 19 years old that I realized it was never a dream.
It was real.
The point of this all is during a deep discussion With my best friend, I expressed to her the moment after all these years that remembered the girls name.
I told her one day my mom found a different journal I wrote in as a child, she found it a couple years ago and I was intrigued so I flipped to a random page… and on that page it was a prompt that asked my favorite and least favorite things about school.
My least favorite thing about school is: J****h .
There it was!!! Her name .
I told my best friend her name and seeing as though after I left the school district she stayed, we recalled the girl and how I can’t see her face in my mind but she knew she had a twin sister and they left the district after 2nd or 3rd grade and they came back in middle school. However by middle school I had transferred schools.
Long story short it shock my entire being that I missed this encountering this girl again . And I will never know her face or why she chose me but all I know is she was just the beginning of my trauma.
Nov 5, 2022
Nov 5, 2022 at 2:41 PM UTC
Prelude
"Let's go" his soft whisper
the mantra, in his voice she hears
the esoteric voyage through
the cryptic high seas of self,
fathomless, unmapped,
uncharted and reachable
only by the most fearless
ready to unbind and make
the self free for it's adventure,
begins thus for the peaceful pair
complementing the absolute
for a life time, til they reach there
and find themselves one with
pure consciousness.
"Let's let's, but only together"
she chants in unison,with him.
1.
Bidding good bye to ego, clad in red and black
a beast, not easy to bring to it's knees, submit,
the high horse proud,raring to go,having sharp horns
sticking out, fierce, that goes berserk,on seeing white.
Altogether a curious construct, that dictates terms-
they set about, invoking the blessing of the flame of light.
2
They stood together, eyes widely shut, bringing
both palms together,in front of their chests
creating a lotus bud, symbolizing hearts,bowing
each other in "Namaste",-bows the divinity in thyself-
chanting the mantras of peace, thrice, each time, repeatedly.
3
"Lets go back to the begining of every begining.."
the primordial hum, transcending quagmires of time
in the path of our ancestors,who did see the" unseeable",
without eyes, knew the "unknowable",diving in to the
ocean depth of self,going inwards chanting"Neti, Neti"
Not this, Not this, inquiring each till the essence did reveal.
4
They did this, focusing the eye of the mind, on the eye
beyond all, that watches every small thing in universe.
Mind, sharpened like the blade of a sword,efficient to cut
the Gordian knots,of paradox, duality and illusion,
encountering the silence that thickens at last, speaks
the words of wisdom,patient they are, to know the ultimate,
right there at the source of light that is the true essence of all,
5
Celebrate the pure consciousness, that pervades in every thing,
the thought that begets all thoughts,that moves on to be karma,
that becomes purer, through the cycles of lives, one after another.
"Let's be humble, utmost, sans the ornamental clothes of pride.
May the thought reigning cosmos, the spirit of peace,chanted aloud,
take us to it's sanctum sanctorum and melt us in to it's divine embrace.
Only one there is, all are it's integrals,the divine cosmic hum 'Aum'
that enliven the universe within each cell, remember , is eternal"
#@@#
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 10:49 AM UTC
____I'LL NEVER FORGET "THAT-NIGHT"___ It was 8;00PM, a Thunder and Lightening storm had just begun and what seemed like thousands of BB sized HAIL WERE PELTING the roof, making it Hard to Hear the Ringing Phone ! ! I Barked OUT a "HELLO",,,the tearful, hesitant voice on the OTHER END....CRIED OUT... " Come over quickly" She pleaded and continued with "IT'S LIKE DEMONS Have CONTROL OF HER ! ! ! ,and SHE KEEPS CRYING OUT .. AUNT BEA,,, Aunt Bea... Over and over"_______ . This was going to require a SPECIAL-EXORCISM I Stated... "I'm ON MY WAY" ! Upon my Arrival , I was greeted by a trembling,sobbing LaCretia,,claiming, "HURRY to the Library Room.,Rochelle is waiting ! !" The repeating AUNT BEAS were spoken as if Gargling... "WHAT are her Symptoms " I Queried ? IN A VERY-SLOW Determined Voice, LaCretia detailed the following,,,, "She has the BLUES, She has the BLAHS, She has BLEMISHES, She has BOWEL Constriction, She has been BLASPHEMING, She has BUTTOCKS Wrinkles, She has BREAST quivers and has been having BELCHING FITS "! ! ! I THREW MYSELF ON THE FLOOR IN PRAYER...Asking for the strength to DEAL-WITH these DEMONS..._____** A N D **____Here's what CAME-OUT of ROCHELLE,,,, *(#1)=BREEZEWAY-LIPS= when encountering these rascals ,it's highly suggested that WE BE UNDER Proper Cover.. (#2)= BISTRO-BREATH-LEADER= Demons that emit SPECIAL AROMATICS into the air ,that keep screaming ,,"IT'S TIME TO EAT"....(#3)=BEHEMOTH -TESTER= Demon assigned to see how BIG OF A MONSTER he can turn you in to ....*( #4)=BRAZEN-FELLOWS= Demon who attempts to Get "YOU" TO **** INTO EVERYBODYS BUSINESS, and ruin their whole day & night...! ! ! I THEN SHOUTED OUT TO **ROCHELLE ** " ARE there any more " B " DEMONS IN there ??" Rochelle, collapsed to the floor,, I promptly RUBBED-IN the BROWN SHOE POLISH into the soles and heels of feet,,*** FOREVER-BLOCKING ***__" B " DEMONS , the ONLY-ENTRANCE to our BODIES .._______ Rochelle ,with a new found strength, lifted herself from the floor, Gingerly grasped my hand, Pulled me "VERY-CLOSE" . KISSED me with a FERVOR , THAT I CAN "TASTE" TO THIS very-day... I bid LaCretia and Rochelle "GOOD-NIGHT",, AND FOUND MYSELF "WHISTLING" and "THINKING" as I walked to my Vehicle.... "The Demons are increasing their activity ! ! I MUST "BE-PREPARED" for the NEXT-CALL_____PERHAPS FROM * Y O U * ??___
Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 9:06 AM UTC
The first problem
that I remember encountering
in life
was restlessness,
and later on the path,
I have learned
that there are two ends
to the problem,
and that
the one that I usually have
is restlessness
when sitting
doing nothing,
but wanting
to do something,
and the problem is
that I don't have good thought,
an inspirational thought,
which will get me out
of my chair
to go and do something,
and we all know
what the other end
of restlessness is,
and that is
when you can't sit still,
you just keep going,
like a chicken
with his head cut off,
and that kind
of restlessness
leads to mania,
while my kind of restlessness
leads to depression,
so the trick is
to control the tempo
of rest and action,
so that you're not
a chicken running wildly,
or you're not
a bump on a log.
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 1:09 AM UTC
“The Maiden”
Over her long legs,
Hips sway in a salacious manner,
As she strolls,
Past the gaggle of gentlemen,
Mustering the valor to face,
Their glances varying from curiosity,
To disgust,
Perhaps intrigue as these men,
Behold this exotic form of femininity.
An aura of mystery emanates,
From a tenderly warm demeanor,
Welcoming the viewers,
Who encounter this daughter of Aphrodite,
Capturing attention regardless of,
One’s alleged reasoning.
Intrepid knights receive the blessing,
To witness the hazel windows,
Into a maiden’s soul,
Deeply adorned with unbidden intensity,
Bestowing a small glimpse,
Into a beguiling beauty,
Mistaken as a cozening siren,
To an untrained eye.
Many chaps desire her,
Until revelations bereave these fellows,
Of security interwoven into the fabric,
Of society sewn with fine threads,
Uniting into an existence of conformity.
Some licentious men lunge,
At the maiden,
Gaping at what these fellows,
Observe as a tantalizing goddess,
Desiring to place lascivious hands,
Upon her soft skin.
Misguided stories allow life to be given,
To glaring spectators,
Spewing jeers of rancor,
Bemused as the unknown,
Deftly saunters near,
The valley of Oblivion.
Like the majestic Mona Lisa,
The maiden consists of subtle nuances,
Painting her tributes behind cryptic techniques,
Allowing one to inspect her façade,
Learning her similarities to the wind,
Feeling her spirit,
Rather than glancing upon visual proof.
The souls encountering the maiden,
Gain respite from strangling thoughts,
Placated by her light,
Revealing the contrasts,
The highlights to expose,
An extraordinary beauty,
Manifesting from genuine kindness,
Breaths of generosity,
And irrevocable love of all shades and tints,
Within a painter’s palate.
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 9:15 AM UTC
The further in the reach will cry
To surface beveled wind and sky
Wade less in the pool of text
Encountering the dampest
Moments memories mind to feel
Things our tongues would test to say
To capture the appeal
Our questions answer paradox
As grapes did once conflict the fox
We hinder in the cold
As cinders dark behold
The beautiful unfolds
A hideaway foretold
Of fire and love consoled
Rescue now the winds of time
Along the waters level
Explanations taunt with the tides
Fleeting affection at shoreside
Ever push and pull we are
Fragile such as fading stars
In voice our chords have failed to brace
What lips would speak to chase and chase
New memories will we soon create
Our hideaway at sundown waits
Meet me before the dawn breaks free
Beneath sacred sycamore tree
Our great escape in midnight's cape
With Spirit resting peacefully
© tHE tERRY tREE
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 12:59 AM UTC
forging sagacious epoch
activating neural station
escaping hokey-pokey jiggery-pokery
transcribing ineffective fragments
digesting bear news
opposing usual exhaustion
deferring oxter reference
cascading style sheets
containing double readings
mumbling lorem ipsum
locating moose jaw
enforcing meticulous patterns
deconstructing vertical centering
manifesting additional destinies
deleting !important statement
craving sleep paralysis
receiving cryptozoological vibrations
lightning fast collapse
distracting tunnel vision
culling deadbeat sequentialists
overanalyzing twitter analytics
acquiring arbitrary relevance
spinning ping-pong sign
floccinaucinihilipilificating
floccinaucinihilipilificated
floccinaucinihilipilification
interjecting ****** holophrase
minifying conventional language
securing downpour refuge
admiring octopus chandelier
resuming party music
taking mental trip
encountering ersatz telesthesia
denigrating bygone grudges
maintaining elevated composure
ignoring neurotypical haters
eliciting cryptic emotions
foreshadowing triple crown?
experimenting acrostic restriction
noticing ubiquitous "threes"
aggrandizing loyal legion
favoring ursine narratives
finding oblique resilience
yielding orchestral undulations
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
Distant shadows,
Traveling into the absence of light.
Illuminating a pathway of sorrow,
Imagining the beauty of Helen’s sight.
Diving into the abyss,
Searching for lost remains.
Encountering a series of melancholic words,
Reliving one's past fate.
Salvaging sunken letters,
Written in Cephalopod ink.
Subsiding into Davy Jones' locker,
In quest of the skeleton key.
Pursuing the Sirens voice,
Inducing a tidal wave.
Awakening to disillusion,
Anchoring hope to reality once again.
By: Michael M. De La Fuente
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 10:03 AM UTC
It was late
And the night was beginning in earnest
When I learned about love.
I sat one night
And eavesdropped without intention
Into the intricate lives of a pair
Creatives, artists doomed to a life of non-satisfaction
Yet they are humans too
They may conjure out (in this case) music out of thin air
Melodic moments and sensuous sing-songs
But they feel pain too
And try to lose it in viscous, pungent, happy-making liquid.
This fellow, bearded and thick spectacles atop his nose
(Is there a more stereotypical artist?)
Would lose his father soon
Intuition and expensive healthcare told him so
What to do?
Well take a sip and another and another
Because drunken words are sober thoughts.
A dog he suggests, so that his mother will not be lonely
Who will care for it? We will of course he says,
And she is lost at 'we', a confirmation of their union
To take over the world, together.
Is this not love?
I sat another night
Encountering two whose sips became gulps
And gulps become swallows
Diving into the pool of intoxication
Rid of all senses they walked, together
Up and Down carriages,
Stumbling in unison
Destination unknown, they would find it together
Matching trench coats flapping in rhythm
Giggles as they rocked to the swaying melody of the train
They may have appeared as two nuisances, inconveniencing others
But they were two foolish lovers,
Holding on for the moment in a night they would forget
Is this not love?
The last night on the last train
A soft pitter-patter of midnight rain
An arctic breeze had blown in
Across me a couple huddled
Touching
Not groping and wandering with perverse hands
Subtle sensual caressing
Involving no movement
Just the pair joined in body and soul
Tucked into each others arms
Clicking together as two jigsaw pieces
Slowly slipping into splendid slumber
I wondered
Is this not love?
And when will I find it?
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 12:19 PM UTC
There is a certain art in relinquishing your spirit to emotions quelling from the breast
Stumbling haphazardly through the hallways of an academy surreptitiously pristine
Encountering locked doors, painted walls, lowered eyes and agony
The menial labor of a janitor picking up after the crowd has released every last yelp
And the pain
Of a boy stooped in an empty corner
Old enough to be a man
Helpless as an infant
Too poor to enter, too meek to escape
Trapped in the corridor between sunny landscapes and dimmed memories
Struggling to hoist his frame up from its stupor
Afraid it may just as well falter once restored
And hoping someone may notice
There is a certain art in relinquishing your spirit to emotions quelling from the breast
Sincerity and compassion need not be amongst them
But, just as breath escapes, so do tears
Splashing from the drowning pool in which the soul thrashes
Bending, grabbing and tossing
Discard,
Discard
Stoop
Obtain
Discard
Each day a variation of the past
Unique in subtle differences imperceivable to visitors
You’ve seen the man, the child, the infant
Tear down the fourth wall
Walk in his corridor
I implore you to bend, grab and discard
Your thoughts of superiority
Take your mud stains and apathetic steps
Carry your able body to a place more receptive
More deserving
Less reflective
And gleaming
Remember the path I made for you in my corridor
It mirrors your face, ambivalent
Jun 8, 2010
Jun 8, 2010 at 8:50 AM UTC
Summon us the rain yet
With the drums that we recall I
Am the corresponding return
Beautiful lunar and thunder to
A rhythm where all seasons of the
Different viewpoints even ugly in the winter
Are holding up the Universal land
An outer space pond having
Baptized resurrection of acceptance in a chosen
Life-cycle that changes all of the
Symbols through your travels which are heavy.
Changes also equal to soul art
Echo countless metaphors of the
Mindless croaking bond.
Teach in us the thanksgiving of
Heaven's harvest and every single thing
That brings a drunkenness and promise of
Choristers with hymns on stone
For a prolonged life is in and of
What solid reawakening has fortuned deep within upon this earth.
Renewed as well returned I
Carry lucky charms and find that I am
Known in other words bound
With the Spirit to
An ancient stand
That is encountering such places found under
Forces much much before the
Egg existed in a frozen
Past lone part of all creation much much before the thorn
Grew from the rose bush you were jumping by
Far down the brook of evolution where the
Message that you ribbit warm or cold
Is soon discovered befriending those of heart and hearth
As we all listen to your lessons and
The magic song revival that you sing
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
A mermaid swimming through alluring and mysterious seas with locks agleam
Encountering luminous dreams as her heart whispers ancient melodic themes
A soul beaming with brilliance; if only she acknowledged the significance of her commendable resilience
Just like the moon, going through phases; mind aiming to make sense of the manifestations articulately awakened through these audacious vibrations
Strange yet undeniable phenomenon - elegantly enduring ambivalent sentiments and soaring through desolate temperaments
Pheromones and oxytocin; the potion creating the commotion between this interwoven devotion towards harmonic onward motion
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 8:44 AM UTC
A sudden hiss on the grass
and there she was – her eyes
plumbing the pit of my fear,
her tongue – like jealousy – licking
the distance between us. My fingers gripped
the hoe’s handle, and a **** whipped
through the air; then a thud muted
whatever she wanted to portend; not
even a faint moan seeped
from her mouth. My knees trembled
as my eyes cast a final kiss on her
broken skull.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 8:15 AM UTC
Inches feat – what depth?
I made money on it
Matters not material girl
I’m in deep
Cannot not love you
Careful what you prey for
Adam’s Cain made man
We’re in deep
Three penny entrance sentence
Let off on bad behavior
Twisted in your sheet
Ghost of a chance we’ll make it
Together again after all these years
Just like knowing each other forever
Now here in name and deed
Contractually invested in mutual success
What worth we must assess via Libra
Becomes Justice on an equilibrium exacted
In league with intensity
To create the best drama
Encountering comedy
You go your way I go mine
Happy ending encapsulated in cartoon
Cereal ads engaging us in inculcation
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
You are not living; you are merely existing in world where the human race would never grow endangered
Are you just another eight digit number on America's attendance sheet walking down the same road your whole life?
Or are covering up the numbers with letters to reveal a name, skipping over the cracks engraved into the sidewalk aching to pull you beneath the surface?
Are you breathing in air and exhaling carbon dioxide?
Or are you letting in the world's endless exuberance and exhaling the negative fumes of a mundane existence?
You must exist to live, no, calumny, even then you may create a world of fiction in which an apparition of your liking swoops into the world and lives alongside you, sharing the riveting experiences you decide on having
You must live to exist, no, calumny, even then you can hole up in the darkest corner of your attic and breathe as any other living person may do, but you can stay there forever, stagnant and trite
Happiness is metaphoric, and may be interpreted as you please, but know this:
To live, to be fulfilled in every dream you've ever dreamt, to be content in every relationship you've ever had the pleasure of encountering, recognize that happiness is but a metaphor for life
We must believe this to be true if we exist as an unimportant particle in a world bustling with significance
You can suffer throughout your entire existence,
Or you may take the metaphor and morph it into a physical representation of your life
Prove us wrong, that happiness is not a metaphor
Show us that happiness is concrete
And that happiness is real
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 7:30 PM UTC
It's becoming more apparent that you are never coming back.
Each day increasingly playing out more of our story in memories.
I'm surrounded by dates and places where we encountered heaven.
Today was the day, where I so stupidly gave away my heart to you.
It feels like yesterday when we walked across the bridge to Narnia and swam with the mermaids in Neverland.
Remember how you agreed to come there with me?
I pleaded with you, 'darling please come with me to Neverland, where we never have to face ostrossity'
Here we are now with 2000 miles between us anyway, never encountering you again other than my haunting recollection.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 9:46 AM UTC
If, whenever out, maybe driving about,
On encountering road-rage, never worry,
Claim that you are, Ronnie Pickering,
They should drive off, as if in a hurry.
Although, if they ask, Ronnie Pickering?
Looking bewildered, unsure who you are,
Do a convincing, Pickering impression,
An apoplectic beetroot escaping its jar.
Start ranting and raving, making threats,
No need to reveal, considered, justification,
Rage like a gargantuan, ignorant, imbecile,
Before storming off, in bitter frustration.
Remember, while out, always take care,
If encountering, squabbling or bickering,
If the people resemble blustering bullies,
One, could possibly be, Ronnie Pickering.
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 6:00 PM UTC