Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Tien - Tim Jul 2013
You've brought us closer,
Then made us more distant.
Made us more aware,
Then made us doubtful of ourselves.
Introduce us to more friends,
Then invited more enemies.
Given us more publicity,
Then exploited us.
Save us more time,
Now it's spent to be more busy.

Simplify our tasks just to make life more difficult.
You're an entrapping blessing in disguise.
Made us feel more secure,
Yet gave us more tools to break in.
You've become our new addiction,
Just a second without you, 
Got us in technology withdraw.
You're a complication in simplicity.
There's so much to love you but also so much to hate.
Can't live with you or without you...
My 1st Ode
conversation between god and the devil

GOD i’m not perfect

DEVIL how refreshing to hear

GOD i learn from man’s mistakes the more daring their errors the more valuable to my wisdom

DEVIL yes and i the same

GOD but you reward man’s faults encourage transgression endorse corruption heinous crime cannibalism

DEVIL i merely imagine scenarios then pass them along (pause) mankind dutifully complies

GOD you’re such a sick *******

DEVIL your language is appalling

GOD i remember now why i kicked you out of heaven

DEVIL i was your best angel

GOD you were good but too ambitious hungry to take what i created turn it into perverse menagerie

DEVIL i would have made a great god just not as tight-*** as you

GOD my child you’re a very sick angel

DEVIL you made me

GOD i gave you every opportunity spared no expense camp clothes psychiatrists tutors sent you to the finest private schools

DEVIL you were so busy creating your own image you never had time for me

GOD what are you saying

DEVIL you neglected loving nurturing me strengthening my vulnerabilities i have no self-respect esteem you insisted i was to blame weak bad you were always right correct never questioning your methods tearing down my dreams insisting on your own plans always judging accusing me punishing me unnecessarily severely you were cruel

GOD you’re pointing a finger at me

DEVIL no i built my own world based on your lack of concern respect sympathy

GOD i’m supposed to feel guilt

DEVIL i’m simply suggesting if you hadn’t been so critical expectant demanding if you’d spent a little more time caring for your creations instead of constantly occupying yourself with your latest ascension

GOD how dare you question me

DEVIL there you go god supreme pompous conceited full of yourself

GOD that’s hitting below the belt what’s with the red black leather motorcycle jacket (pause) Michael Jackson?

DEVIL i look good in red and black (pause) who gave you the right to sit on high throne you’re fallible just like me yet everybody bows to you shuns me i deserve more appreciation

GOD oh god

DEVIL listen to you calling upon your own self majesty

GOD this is going nowhere

DEVIL fine you go back to your fluffy gated community and i’ll go back to my scorching miserable cave dungeon

GOD you ungrateful child

DEVIL i’ll always be a thorn in your side

GOD i’m exhausted i’m calling in Jesus he can deal with you

DEVIL i realize you did what you thought was best but you’re old god and such a profound disappointment

GOD you ******* kid you’re getting on my nerves i’m done with parenting done with you done done done i’m sending in Jesus

DEVIL good maybe he’ll be more compassionate

GOD go to hell (presses button) security!

DEVIL you so ineffective



conversation (monologue) between god and me

ME i apologize for praying to you so seldom i need your blessings strength wisdom can you hear me

GOD (no answer)

ME i know you may not exist yet i need you (pause) my life is too crazy i need to pray

GOD (no answer)

ME i want love happiness harmony peace resolve

GOD (no answer)

ME please god i need your help i admit i’m troubled tangled with knotty history

GOD (no answer)

ME i suffer anxiety attacks nightmares disturbing thoughts ******* memories

GOD (no answer)

ME in a dream last night a pretty girl said don’t put your hand in your pants mommy wants to be there for you let mommy do it

GOD (no answer)

ME why did she say that i already have a mother i don’t need another what did she mean what is my mind telling me

GOD (no answer)

ME i apologize for talking to you this way

GOD (no answer)

ME it’s a beautiful dawn thank you god

GOD (no answer)



conversation between death and me

ME i’ve thought about you since i was a kid i think about you everyday

DEATH what are you a stalker

ME i’ve been waiting for you

DEATH everybody is waiting for me

ME i wish things were different

DEATH everybody wishes things were different

ME you’re cold

DEATH vichyssoise is served cold i’m merely lifeless

ME vichyssoise? i’m weary exhausted you could have taken me years ago what took you so long

DEATH i’m simply visiting not ready to receive you

ME why do you haunt me

DEATH shush up you still have lots to learn

ME is this god’s doing?

DEATH (no answer)

ME hello

DEATH i’m here to warn you your life is slipping away i’ll be back sooner than you realize (pause) later dude

ME wait i have questions

DEATH (no answer)

ME is there peace in death or is it continual respawning tell me please

DEATH (no answer)



conversation between myself and i

I why am i the way i am

MYSELF you’re asking me?

I yes

MYSELF maybe because you’re messed up deep inside

I messed up how?

MYSELF messed up since you were a little boy

I why or how did i get so messed up can i change

MYSELF i suspect it may be too late

I you mean there’s no hope

MYSELF i didn’t say that perhaps if you found a loving relationship and worked your problems out through it

I my problems?

MYSELF yes (pause) you know your self deceptions lies selfishness stubbornness the list goes on

I i beg your pardon what list

MYSELF don’t use that tone of voice with me you’re getting argumentative

I who else is culpable but you

MYSELF there you go placing blame

I i’m confused

MYSELF yes obviously

I i need your help not some clever repartee

MYSELF how can i help you

I maybe if we stuck together instead of always questioning arguing i feel so conflicted

MYSELF you want me to be a yes man

I i didn’t say that i mean if we could simply agree and be more loving devoted to each other

MYSELF (no answer)

I do you understand what i’m saying

MYSELF yes i understand i just don’t know what to say

I you could start by saying you’re with me behind me and we’ll tackle this together ok

MYSELF i’m with you behind you and we’ll tackle this together ok

I are you making fun of me

MYSELF no i’m serious i think we’re due for a reckoning or sacred pact the question is are you capable strong enough seriously intent on working together and not crumbling into a mess

I me! you’re accusing me

MYSELF oh shut up i mean us can we please just get along

I i promise i will do my best

MYSELF thank you



conversation between the devil and me

a bar somewhere evening

DEVIL notice the 2 women sitting at table both quite lovely the older brunette is stunning yet the blond has youth check out her lengthy legs broad shoulders sweet smile

ME yes i see them

DEVIL if you had your pick which would you choose

ME i don’t know i need to meet them flirt talk sense chemistry discern which one is more interested in me

DEVIL stop thinking about them as people just look at them as commodities now tell me which would you pick

ME oh god i can’t look at them that way it’s wrong

DEVIL don’t be naïve observe their delectableness now choose

ME i don’t know

DEVIL the brunette has a higher aesthetic value the blond will never be as attractive but the brunette is more fixed in her ways the blond more vulnerable to persuasions think about the blonde’s eager tender body imagine her sweet young odors then consider the brunette’s experienced skills her seasoned fragrance

ME this is ill you’re ill

DEVIL humor me which do you pick

ME uhhm how can you know the brunette is more fixed in her ways or the blond more vulnerable

DEVIL shut up and pick one

ME i can’t participate in this twisted rendering

DEVIL step up to the plate girlie ******

ME ***** you

DEVIL is that an invitation

ME you sorry *******

DEVIL quit this sweet altar boy **** be a man pick one

ME ok fine i choose both i want to kiss pet go down on the blond while the brunette ***** and ***** me and the whole time you lick my ***

DEVIL impressive i underestimated you

ME more like you overvalue yourself what is the usefulness of seeing people the way you do it’s sad base disgusting

DEVIL forgive me my rudiments entrapping i merely wanted to see what you were capable of

ME i’m capable of saying no to you

DEVIL that’s too bad you were more fun flexible when you were younger more vulnerable to persuasions

ME people change but not you you’re still the same groveling wicked pervert

DEVIL you would know
Ignatius Hosiana Apr 2015
Deadly wheel
Entrapping
Sometimes
Tough and weak
Individuals
Not only
You and I
With these words Hector passed through the gates, and his brother
Alexandrus with him, both eager for the fray. As when heaven sends a
breeze to sailors who have long looked for one in vain, and have
laboured at their oars till they are faint with toil, even so
welcome was the sight of these two heroes to the Trojans.
  Thereon Alexandrus killed Menesthius the son of Areithous; he
lived in Ame, and was son of Areithous the Mace-man, and of
Phylomedusa. Hector threw a spear at Eioneus and struck him dead
with a wound in the neck under the bronze rim of his helmet.
Glaucus, moreover, son of Hippolochus, captain of the Lycians, in hard
hand-to-hand fight smote Iphinous son of Dexius on the shoulder, as he
was springing on to his chariot behind his fleet mares; so he fell
to earth from the car, and there was no life left in him.
  When, therefore, Minerva saw these men making havoc of the
Argives, she darted down to Ilius from the summits of Olympus, and
Apollo, who was looking on from Pergamus, went out to meet her; for he
wanted the Trojans to be victorious. The pair met by the oak tree, and
King Apollo son of Jove was first to speak. “What would you have
said he, “daughter of great Jove, that your proud spirit has sent
you hither from Olympus? Have you no pity upon the Trojans, and
would you incline the scales of victory in favour of the Danaans?
Let me persuade you—for it will be better thus—stay the combat for
to-day, but let them renew the fight hereafter till they compass the
doom of Ilius, since you goddesses have made up your minds to
destroy the city.”
  And Minerva answered, “So be it, Far-Darter; it was in this mind
that I came down from Olympus to the Trojans and Achaeans. Tell me,
then, how do you propose to end this present fighting?”
  Apollo, son of Jove, replied, “Let us incite great Hector to
challenge some one of the Danaans in single combat; on this the
Achaeans will be shamed into finding a man who will fight him.”
  Minerva assented, and Helenus son of Priam divined the counsel of
the gods; he therefore went up to Hector and said, “Hector son of
Priam, peer of gods in counsel, I am your brother, let me then
persuade you. Bid the other Trojans and Achaeans all of them take
their seats, and challenge the best man among the Achaeans to meet you
in single combat. I have heard the voice of the ever-living gods,
and the hour of your doom is not yet come.”
  Hector was glad when he heard this saying, and went in among the
Trojans, grasping his spear by the middle to hold them back, and
they all sat down. Agamemnon also bade the Achaeans be seated. But
Minerva and Apollo, in the likeness of vultures, perched on father
Jove’s high oak tree, proud of their men; and the ranks sat close
ranged together, bristling with shield and helmet and spear. As when
the rising west wind furs the face of the sea and the waters grow dark
beneath it, so sat the companies of Trojans and Achaeans upon the
plain. And Hector spoke thus:-
  “Hear me, Trojans and Achaeans, that I may speak even as I am
minded; Jove on his high throne has brought our oaths and covenants to
nothing, and foreshadows ill for both of us, till you either take
the towers of Troy, or are yourselves vanquished at your ships. The
princes of the Achaeans are here present in the midst of you; let him,
then, that will fight me stand forward as your champion against
Hector. Thus I say, and may Jove be witness between us. If your
champion slay me, let him strip me of my armour and take it to your
ships, but let him send my body home that the Trojans and their
wives may give me my dues of fire when I am dead. In like manner, if
Apollo vouchsafe me glory and I slay your champion, I will strip him
of his armour and take it to the city of Ilius, where I will hang it
in the temple of Apollo, but I will give up his body, that the
Achaeans may bury him at their ships, and the build him a mound by the
wide waters of the Hellespont. Then will one say hereafter as he sails
his ship over the sea, ‘This is the monument of one who died long
since a champion who was slain by mighty Hector.’ Thus will one say,
and my fame shall not be lost.”
  Thus did he speak, but they all held their peace, ashamed to decline
the challenge, yet fearing to accept it, till at last Menelaus rose
and rebuked them, for he was angry. “Alas,” he cried, “vain braggarts,
women forsooth not men, double-dyed indeed will be the stain upon us
if no man of the Danaans will now face Hector. May you be turned every
man of you into earth and water as you sit spiritless and inglorious
in your places. I will myself go out against this man, but the
upshot of the fight will be from on high in the hands of the
immortal gods.”
  With these words he put on his armour; and then, O Menelaus, your
life would have come to an end at the hands of hands of Hector, for he
was far better the man, had not the princes of the Achaeans sprung
upon you and checked you. King Agamemnon caught him by the right
hand and said, “Menelaus, you are mad; a truce to this folly. Be
patient in spite of passion, do not think of fighting a man so much
stronger than yourself as Hector son of Priam, who is feared by many
another as well as you. Even Achilles, who is far more doughty than
you are, shrank from meeting him in battle. Sit down your own
people, and the Achaeans will send some other champion to fight
Hector; fearless and fond of battle though he be, I ween his knees
will bend gladly under him if he comes out alive from the
hurly-burly of this fight.”
  With these words of reasonable counsel he persuaded his brother,
whereon his squires gladly stripped the armour from off his shoulders.
Then Nestor rose and spoke, “Of a truth,” said he, “the Achaean land
is fallen upon evil times. The old knight Peleus, counsellor and
orator among the Myrmidons, loved when I was in his house to
question me concerning the race and lineage of all the Argives. How
would it not grieve him could he hear of them as now quailing before
Hector? Many a time would he lift his hands in prayer that his soul
might leave his body and go down within the house of Hades. Would,
by father Jove, Minerva, and Apollo, that I were still young and
strong as when the Pylians and Arcadians were gathered in fight by the
rapid river Celadon under the walls of Pheia, and round about the
waters of the river Iardanus. The godlike hero Ereuthalion stood
forward as their champion, with the armour of King Areithous upon
his shoulders—Areithous whom men and women had surnamed ‘the
Mace-man,’ because he fought neither with bow nor spear, but broke the
battalions of the foe with his iron mace. Lycurgus killed him, not
in fair fight, but by entrapping him in a narrow way where his mace
served him in no stead; for Lycurgus was too quick for him and speared
him through the middle, so he fell to earth on his back. Lycurgus then
spoiled him of the armour which Mars had given him, and bore it in
battle thenceforward; but when he grew old and stayed at home, he gave
it to his faithful squire Ereuthalion, who in this same armour
challenged the foremost men among us. The others quaked and quailed,
but my high spirit bade me fight him though none other would
venture; I was the youngest man of them all; but when I fought him
Minerva vouchsafed me victory. He was the biggest and strongest man
that ever I killed, and covered much ground as he lay sprawling upon
the earth. Would that I were still young and strong as I then was, for
the son of Priam would then soon find one who would face him. But you,
foremost among the whole host though you be, have none of you any
stomach for fighting Hector.”
  Thus did the old man rebuke them, and forthwith nine men started
to their feet. Foremost of all uprose King Agamemnon, and after him
brave Diomed the son of Tydeus. Next were the two Ajaxes, men
clothed in valour as with a garment, and then Idomeneus, and
Meriones his brother in arms. After these Eurypylus son of Euaemon,
Thoas the son of Andraemon, and Ulysses also rose. Then Nestor
knight of Gerene again spoke, saying: “Cast lots among you to see
who shall be chosen. If he come alive out of this fight he will have
done good service alike to his own soul and to the Achaeans.”
  Thus he spoke, and when each of them had marked his lot, and had
thrown it into the helmet of Agamemnon son of Atreus, the people
lifted their hands in prayer, and thus would one of them say as he
looked into the vault of heaven, “Father Jove, grant that the lot fall
on Ajax, or on the son of Tydeus, or upon the king of rich Mycene
himself.”
  As they were speaking, Nestor knight of Gerene shook the helmet, and
from it there fell the very lot which they wanted—the lot of Ajax.
The herald bore it about and showed it to all the chieftains of the
Achaeans, going from left to right; but they none of of them owned it.
When, however, in due course he reached the man who had written upon
it and had put it into the helmet, brave Ajax held out his hand, and
the herald gave him the lot. When Ajax saw him mark he knew it and was
glad; he threw it to the ground and said, “My friends, the lot is
mine, and I rejoice, for I shall vanquish Hector. I will put on my
armour; meanwhile, pray to King Jove in silence among yourselves
that the Trojans may not hear you—or aloud if you will, for we fear
no man. None shall overcome me, neither by force nor cunning, for I
was born and bred in Salamis, and can hold my own in all things.”
  With this they fell praying to King Jove the son of Saturn, and thus
would one of them say as he looked into the vault of heaven, “Father
Jove that rulest from Ida, most glorious in power, vouchsafe victory
to Ajax, and let him win great glory: but if you wish well to Hector
also and would protect him, grant to each of them equal fame and
prowess.
  Thus they prayed, and Ajax armed himself in his suit of gleaming
bronze. When he was in full array he sprang forward as monstrous
Mars when he takes part among men whom Jove has set fighting with
one another—even so did huge Ajax, bulwark of the Achaeans, spring
forward with a grim smile on his face as he brandished his long
spear and strode onward. The Argives were elated as they beheld him,
but the Trojans trembled in every limb, and the heart even of Hector
beat quickly, but he could not now retreat and withdraw into the ranks
behind him, for he had been the challenger. Ajax came up bearing his
shield in front of him like a wall—a shield of bronze with seven
folds of oxhide—the work of Tychius, who lived in Hyle and was by far
the best worker in leather. He had made it with the hides of seven
full-fed bulls, and over these he had set an eighth layer of bronze.
Holding this shield before him, Ajax son of Telamon came close up to
Hector, and menaced him saying, “Hector, you shall now learn, man to
man, what kind of champions the Danaans have among them even besides
lion-hearted Achilles cleaver of the ranks of men. He now abides at
the ships in anger with Agamemnon shepherd of his people, but there
are many of us who are well able to face you; therefore begin the
fight.”
  And Hector answered, “Noble Ajax, son of Telamon, captain of the
host, treat me not as though I were some puny boy or woman that cannot
fight. I have been long used to the blood and butcheries of battle.
I am quick to turn my leathern shield either to right or left, for
this I deem the main thing in battle. I can charge among the
chariots and horsemen, and in hand to hand fighting can delight the
heart of Mars; howbeit I would not take such a man as you are off
his guard—but I will smite you openly if I can.”
  He poised his spear as he spoke, and hurled it from him. It struck
the sevenfold shield in its outermost layer—the eighth, which was
of bronze—and went through six of the layers but in the seventh
hide it stayed. Then Ajax threw in his turn, and struck the round
shield of the son of Priam. The terrible spear went through his
gleaming shield, and pressed onward through his cuirass of cunning
workmanship; it pierced the shirt against his side, but he swerved and
thus saved his life. They then each of them drew out the spear from
his shield, and fell on one another like savage lions or wild boars of
great strength and endurance: the son of Priam struck the middle of
Ajax’s shield, but the bronze did not break, and the point of his dart
was turned. Ajax then sprang forward and pierced the shield of Hector;
the spear went through it and staggered him as he was springing
forward to attack; it gashed his neck and the blood came pouring
from the wound, but even so Hector did not cease fighting; he gave
ground, and with his brawny hand seized a stone, rugged and huge, that
was lying upon the plain; with this he struck the shield of Ajax on
the boss that was in its middle, so that the bronze rang again. But
Ajax in turn caught up a far larger stone, swung it aloft, and
hurled it with prodigious force. This millstone of a rock broke
Hector’s shield inwards and threw him down on his back with the shield
crushing him under it, but Apollo raised him at once. Thereon they
would have hacked at one another in close combat with their swords,
had not heralds, messengers of gods and men, come forward, one from
the Trojans and the other from the Achaeans—Talthybius and Idaeus
both of them honourable men; these parted them with their staves,
and the good herald Idaeus said, “My sons, fight no longer, you are
both of you valiant, and both are dear to Jove; we know this; but
night is now falling, and the behests of night may not be well
gainsaid.”
  Ajax son of Telamon answered, “Idaeus, bid Hector say so, for it was
he that challenged our princes. Let him speak first and I will
accept his saying.”
  Then Hector said, “Ajax, heaven has vouchsafed you stature and
strength, and judgement; and in wielding the spear you excel all
others of the Achaeans. Let us for this day cease fighting;
hereafter we will fight anew till heaven decide between us, and give
victory to one or to the other; night is now falling, and the
behests of night may not be well gainsaid. Gladden, then, the hearts
of the Achaeans at your ships, and more especially those of your own
followers and clansmen, while I, in the great city of King Priam,
bring comfort to the Trojans and their women, who vie with one another
in their prayers on my behalf. Let us, moreover, exchange presents
that it may be said among the Achaeans and Trojans, ‘They fought
with might and main, but were reconciled and parted in friendship.’
  On this he gave Ajax a silver-studded sword with its sheath and
leathern baldric, and in return Ajax gave him a girdle dyed with
purple. Thus they parted, the one going to the host of the Achaeans,
and the other to that of the Trojans, who rejoiced when they saw their
hero come to them safe and unharmed from the strong hands of mighty
Ajax. They led him, therefore, to the city as one that had been
saved beyond their hopes. On the other side the Achaeans brought
Ajax elated with victory to Agamemnon.
  When they reached the quarters of the son of Atreus, Agamemnon
sacrificed for them a five-year-old bull in honour of Jove the son
of Saturn. They flayed the carcass, made it ready, and divided it into
joints; these they cut carefully up into smaller pieces, putting
them on the spits, roasting them sufficiently, and then drawing them
off. When they had done all this and had prepared the feast, they
ate it, and every man had his full and equal share, so that all were
satisfied, and King Agamemnon gave Ajax some slices cut lengthways
down the ****, as a mark of special honour. As soon as they had had
enough to cat and drink, old Nestor whose counsel was ever truest
began to speak; with all sincerity and goodwill, therefore, he
addressed them thus:-
  “Son of Atreus, and other chieftains, inasmuch as many of the
Achaeans are now dead, whose blood Mars has shed by the banks of the
Scamander, and their souls have gone down to the house of Hades, it
will be well when morning comes that we should cease fighting; we will
then wheel our dead together with oxen and mules and burn them not far
from t
M May 2019
my torment is one of clouds and flowers
freckles upon sun-kissed oranges
like roses through honey
& vivid eyes like the abstraction of Renaissance pieces

oh butterfly how you make my heart melt
chocolate brownie wonders with giggles on top
your effervescence brighter than a summer's day
entrapping my purity within your oppressive interior

our silences are filled with images of my creation
a cornucopia of passion for even the loneliest of wordsmiths

I leap into our pool of nostalgia for old time's sake
only to find your words transform into serpents.

whirlwinds of emotion now whispered into the ears of another
burning adorations into scarred remains
a work in progress. as always, comment what you think down below!
OC Jul 2018
We ran out of pencils
which didn't bother us much
'till we discovered that
we ran out of words and letters
as well and

in the lack of words
there was nothing to ration
sheer terror and confusion
and those leaked out of storage
foaming, flooding, roaring
draining all other emotions and

thus the hunger settled in
oozing through the cracks
clinging to the walls
suckling like an orphaned boy
until, when nothing's left
consumed itself to null and

we were left with the absence
who's already small amounts
swelled, and inflated
filling our entire volume
entrapping the echos of memory
then, naturally,
diffused to the outside and

we were left
deprived of selves
only the void within preventing us
from bursting towards the void outside
we float
in no distinct direction
and on occasion bump
into each other's shell
a tap deprived of sound
unable to disturb
eternal peace
Dustyn Smith Nov 2013
When the crying sobs
Wracked with pain
Finally cease
They open the gateway
To entrapping numbness
And honestly I can't say
If I would rather have
The horrendous pain
Or the ghostly numbness
Jeremy Duff Feb 2013
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
The smoking and drinking and snorting and fighting and drinking and crashes and drinking were not good for him.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
One summer, when he was 16, everyday he would take a bottle of wine from his mother's liquor cabinet, buy a pack of cigarettes at the corner store, meet up with his friend Mario, who also stole a bottle of wine, and together they would ride down to the river and smoke and drink and swim. Everyday, for a full 1970's summer they did this.
And now he tells me, that at the time they were having fun and they were not worried about money or addictions or the future.
They were just having fun.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
One day, in the dead of fall 1981, he and his friends Mario, Mark, ****** and John all got together at Mark's apartment on the corner of 51st and Diablo boulevard. They hit the town, drank, snuck into movie theatres, harassed girls and had a good time. They returned to Mark's apartment at 2 am and thought it a good idea to steal Mark's mom's new car. They decided to go to Reno.
Driving, as my dad put it, well above the speed limit on Highway 49, they collided head on with a big rig. There were no fatalities but my dad broke his shoulder and suffered a minor concussion. Mark's mom chose to not press charges nor did the driver of the big rig. The next day my father was back at work, refusing to adhere to the doctor's orders of taking it easy and wearing a soft cast, entrapping his left arm against his chest, climbing under cars, changing oil, and repairing engines.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
One cold winter's day, in December of '82, my father's ever faithful companion, Mario, picked my father and his dog, Wimpy, up and they drove over to a small burger joint named Big A's. My father ordered two bacon cheeseburgers and a large rootbeer. Mario got the same, only with a single bacon cheeseburger. My father father gave his second bacon cheeseburger to his pitbull Wimpy.
My father was better to his dog than he was to his own body.
Now, my father coughs himself to sleep every night, and has chronic bronchitis. His liver and kidneys are shot and he plans to not live passed sixty. He will be turning fifty in two weeks.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
Tess Calogaras Nov 2014
I sometimes I get this feeing as though I was being forced into a meat grinder.
Urged to remove my fat only to spit out chunks of blood and bone instead.
The cracking, clicking snaps of marrow that exudes from it like wastage.
The fat engorging through the tiny weeping holes.
All I can see is the repetitive nature of damage leaking from this abstraction and I feel it in my flesh.
Crawling like tiny bugs, entrapping themselves and eroding their bodies into the hair on my skin.
Uncultivated; I have fallen into the funnel hooked up to the grinder and I feel its body churn me.
It thrusts its cold metal exterior against my lean limbs; ticking.
I try to form a response when all the while this loud heavy machine is echoing against the walls, making my voice utterly meaningless.
Like ground beef I am belched out only to be covered in a plastic film that pushes all the oxygen from it.
I am stuck in this silhouette, shaped as a slab of meat.
Yes, perhaps 'tis true.
Everywhere I go-with all t'ese dwindling thoughts on my mind-
'tis always the same shadows that roam, and moan-
before my eyes: and t'eir never-ending business.
Crawling on t'eir lips,
poisoning t'eir bosoms, chins, and hips-
but unrelenting in their unfolded shades;
with a swamp of bruises like mazes-tangled mazes;
likening them to spoiled, yet uncherished, little pearls.
How despairing-such views I obtaineth, on my every journey!
But shalt there still be space for us, to be outstanding;
to understand this world from a pair of eyes
glistening like unquestioning gentleness; but learning simultaneously
its unvivid perspectives
with such comprehension t'at is crystal clear;
such wit t'at is far from recklessness and greed-
salutations that are pure, and distant from any blighting threats
of equivocation? For t'is world is, in spite of its minuteness,
was framed and brought into life from
awesome darkness, abysmal cells of lifelessness
and hateful ambiguity.
How terrifying!
And often have I enforced myself to wandereth into those shades,
with unmolested poems boiling up in my brains-
and t'ose windy thoughts toppling out into th' paper
on my hand,
jostling through my veins like some ghastly, furious power
t'at's unseen, invisible as it is to th' human eye-
frail and susceptible to th' weather's surly temptations-
and entrapping me in the shrieks of its wondrous grot-
so I could never wane it any further, in my guileless brambles.
How I have dreaded t'ose sights-and t'eir dormant treachery! Lessons of
guilt, teaching of such guilty flakes of harm
and abomination! And how in my following quietude have I pondered-
t'at t'is would be just a balmy prelude to some far bigger strains of
mockery, obstinacy, and destitution. Hark to how those powers
shall arise! And that will indeed be th' abjuration of our splendidness-
everything shalt stop at a halt-everything will become flawed,
and no more poems shalt be liberated-from living souls, and t'eir undamaged
blood, as t'ey still are now! How I shiver at t'ose possibilities, as soon as our
latent enemies be on th' loose-free in t'eir ruthlessness, traces of dark,
unperturbed miseries, and brutal savagery.
And shalt we shine no more-like those summer flowers that are waiting for us-
to be fed daily like th' hungry morning doves;
with their thorns as sharp as love, and innocent gladness
in the arms of their lips-'tis but a scent so dear to the heartbeat
of oureth salubrious mornings.
But t'at danger, danger indeed! And its eyes of glaring monstrosity!
And 'tis just of substantial profoundness t'at we should be
cautious-yes, cautious, my dear fellows, towards t'ose signs
of th' upcoming storm-th malevolent storm of human rage, t'at shalt attack us
one day-at one perilous night, unpredicted and unexpected is its fate-
especially when all th' battling footsteps areth
peaceful in their slumbers-and no more palms dancing around
piles of paper-in th' holy procurement of continual wealth.
How t'at moment shalt be our early Armageddon-awakened shalt be
all rivers of terrors, and waves of hatred. How t'is beautiful solitude shalt end-
in th' fierce burning, brimming death of t'at flame-credulous shalt we be,
disempowered from th' heat-which shalt bring us but our dead feet.
Thus I but sincerely hope t'at gloom shalt not conquer our race-
the noblest of all creatures on earth-on t'is dull earth, fatigued as it is
from all th' uniformed battles, hatred, and anger-t'at untiringly sneer
at th' faces of those dying soldiers.
Peace, peace, my dear mates!
Ought to realize thou now-t'at swords shalt shed blood only if instructed.
So tranquility is but in oureth hands-yes, we are but th' key to our own salvation,
and since it is so, shalt we move forward and be the charms of t'is world's
new foundation: for it is our own life that we shalt save.
Peace, my friends, shalt but break all t'ese unseen boundaries amongst us,
and enrich our fathom of t'eir unspoken presence; so t'at th' small world is but
th' most dwelling of comfort, and aught but ease to our hearts-
our very dear, dear hearts in t'is life.
Darby Hewitt Oct 2014
Silence
Heavy, familiar
Crushing, agonizing, choking
tugging at your core, breaking you down just like before*
Demanding, entrapping, piercing  
Clamorous, turbulent
*Noise
~
-dh
Dreams Flutter,
twirling inside,
the chimerical mind,
of a dreamer;
my head soaring up,
to meet the clouds,
dancing among the stars.


Being a dreamer,
I am no stranger,
to listening to the lyrics of my heart,
perrsuading me to obtain,
a bouquet of hopes and desires,
that resonates with,the strings of my soul.


"you're impractical",
taunts the voices,
weighing my spirt down,
as self-doubt lingers,
upon my lips,
tasting the return of the bitterness,
a brackish inferiority,
leaving the gulp of confidence,
a difficult pill to swallow.


The shackles around my legs,
forces my choices to decrease,
as the chains of the past,
stifle the ability,
to utilize the clouds,
enveloping my thoughts ,
as stepping stones.


The sight of Intuition,
a gift of the prophets,
allows me to tap into,
talents of Creativity,
skills of persistence,
painting colors,
saturated in intellect,
concealed by a youthful demeanor.


The corset of Thorns,
pricking my torso,
a garment I reuse,
to wear upon my frame,
the suit of torture,
entrapping me within,
a plague of atrocious remembrance.


I return to the physical world,
abandoning  my environmental prison,
to bathe in a hot spring of Lotus Flowers,
soothing my exterior form,
as I conquer one element,
of my internal Struggle.


I rise from the plethora,
of Lotus Flowers,
basking in the dawn of my metamorphosis,
gaining ecstasy,
as I arrive one step,
closer to reaching the biggest desire,
of this dreamer.
Lawren Feb 2013
I love you.
I will never abandon you
Like everyone else.
Never would I hurt you,
Unless you disobey me,
For I own you.
You are my property.
A little teddy bear I cuddle
And squeeze until your stuffing pops
Out from behind your eyes.
Your beautiful eyes.
Watch and observe.
Your body, disgusting
But able to do what I want.
I provide goals for you,
Something to do,
A challenge to accept.
No matter how many times
You cut the cord,
We will forever be attached.
I, as a newborn, a fetus,
Feeding off all that is you.
Or, I, as your mother,
Protecting you & entrapping you
Inside my womb.
Our lives depend on each other.
We are one.
United through your blood,
Your every breath.
I'm your best friend
Loyal and honest.
As long as you have me,
You need no one else.
How is it that your cigarette kisses
Are the sweetest I've ever had?
I'm always drawn to you.
My cynosure, you are.
Our dalliance is a thing of lust
But your hands' presence won't wash off.

When I brood here in my room,
All I can recall is your becoming face
And the way you lay, oh so comfortably.
Every entrapping thing you do seems so effortless
And I find it difficult to even kiss the thought
Of you having any trouble with eloquence.
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
The way you walk is like a rhythmic melody to my eyes, the way you speak flows from your red-stained lips like an evergreen stream of desires; your beautiful glowing iris' almost ******* me into their eternally entrapping gaze; never to release me....
The skin that surrounds your delicate frame is only highlighted by the glow of artificial lighting in this dim basement of dreams; pure white skin fascinating me to the point of rapture.
There is not one imperfection on your body, not one; even the slightest of scars are not visible or have been cured by some magical force or your naturally healing qualities.

It's a dream. You must be a beautiful dream.

You smile at me, eyes narrowing with that shine of happiness and obliviousness, god how I wish those eyes would never tear me away from their view.  
Your long, flowing hair stark contrast with your snowy complexion, framing your face as perfectly as a porcelain doll's...

All dolls, no matter how flawless, can break, can't they?

You ask why we are here in this dimly lit room, no one home, just you and me. I smile my typical smile, dimples showing which somehow causes you to giggle and blush, only bringing my excitement to an even higher level.
I tell you that it's special, that I was going to show you something very interesting that only you would know about.

Like a secret.
  
The grin stretches across those cherry-red lips of yours in a Cheshire-like fashion, curiosity abounding in those deep blue eyes that flash into mine like the glare of light in a window.

If only you could see my eyes had turned black as coal.

I open another door in this finely destructed basement of mine, only darkness thickly coating it with it's solid ink.
You cling to my steadfast arm, sending my nerves into overload. Your body trembles a bit, just so slightly; I know when you're frightened.

Don't those eyes look beautiful, shining like a does in the headlights before the initial impact of steel on bone?

You look at me, solid white teeth biting your lower lip in an almost child-like manner. I tilt my head and grin, telling you there's absolutely nothing to be afraid of. Truly there isn't. I only had told you I wanted to show you something, didn't I?

I tell you to wait, wait in the dim lighting of the now menacing underground I call my home. You try to speak, to let the pure doves alight my way in the dark, but I had already followed the shadows inside, tracing the crusted walls in search of the switch that would bring this fantasy to life.

Flick goes the switch.

I hear the sharp intake of breath even though there wasn't one, the sound of your eyes snapping open no matter how desolate the sound was; I know what you do, how you think, how you act to any situation. I had observed your reaction when I led you to the dead body of a feline on the road, body crushed into a dull paste whilst the cracked and broken bones jut upwards in a grotesque display; mouth open in a final shriek that was cut short by the incoming vehicle that had become it's executioner.

You stare at the velvet red walls and the cracked and marred white floor. I know what you're thinking as your gaze turns to the tools hanging on the wall. Which do you like more, the buzz saw or the hedge clippers? I truly wonder which.

Your hands begin to shake.

Ask me why. Go ahead and ask. I told you I was going to show you something that no one else will ever know. Your focus happens to turn to the jars on the crooked and unstable wooden desk. My life's work lie in still beauty, the tender yet dangerous piece of the anatomy trapped and preserved in the perfume of formaldehyde.

I always thought your slender hands were breathtaking.

Before you have a chance to open that tiny mouth of yours I grab your miniature wrist, pulling you into my room of fantasies.
Can't you just feel the walls quivering with excitement? Can't you feel the hands exploring your body in feverish delight?  

You scream, the sound echoing beautifully in the room, a truly splendid noise to my transfixed ears. How I loved to picture this cloth over your eyes; this tape over your shapely mouth. It was surprisingly easy to tie your delicate body down, wandering eyes covered to make your mind race, mouth taped shut as to feel your soon to be surgery of desire.

Desire for me, that is.

This is a fantasy come to life.

I grab the tool with the teeth of unforgiving malice, it craves to feel that perfectly flawless skin of yours; to cut away that soft cover with it's metallic blade.

Who am I to deny it?

You begin to writhe in your *******, how I am glad you decided to wear your finest white dress for this occasion. I pull the cord, bringing the creature to life. A muffled scream of terror floats through the tape, but that is no matter to the beast in my hand.

I bring it to your flesh, seeing it rip your foundation away in a smooth yet ****** fashion, dying that dress of yours a crimson colour.

I always knew red was the perfect shade for you.

You try to become free of your bonds, wrists twisting in desperation to escape the leather that holds you there. The red burns that appear on your wrists look beautiful, like a blush to entice me.

Does it hurt? Do you feel the painful sting in your abdomen? I watch as red ribbons gush out of your freshly made wound, decorating your body with it's trail. My eyes soften as your tongue manages to rip away the tape holding your lips together and shiver as your cries bounce and reflect off the walls.

I put down the creature in my hand, cutting off it's life, then use my own dangerous instruments. Like slipping under the covers my hand went, feeling the pulsing life and heat of your insides, caressing the organs that maintain your body.

A shrill cry escapes your lips once more, forcing me to clench my living tool over your slippery insides, feeling them slide in a painfully gut-wrenching way; causing your face to twist in such a new and delightfully horrified expression.

Have you had enough already?

That's too bad, seeing how you were the cat who decided to follow me into the basement, the doe that stopped once it saw it's quickly approaching demise...

I wake up and wonder if you'll come over today.

Because I have something I want to show you.

But don't tell anyone...

It's a Secret.
Connor Reid Apr 2014
Corroding off in wreckless control
Repeated lines stretching infinitely in ambiguity
Sharp muscle relaxant mistakes
As we career off the road
Into a ravenous singularity
We are unforgiving, cynical yet synthetically joyous
Quick to pardon
Whipped with a gold leash
Delicate, leaves, Celtic music
Rubik's cubes in our throats
We're ready to let love in, willing
Nova tech, drunk masks and indication
Indignation, we clutch, we fail
Partial to conditions
Stones out of focus

Accelerate
Engines bleed borders
You are the free way
Impotent with quartz remnants
Ruins to our fantasy
You hide history
Covered in my burrow
Braking until necks break & bags burst
Powdered hair, liquid lips
Let's drive home
Go beyond the limit
Break each others bones
And crush our entities
Suffocate on suffixes
Her explanation acquits the doubt
As we appear closer than we may actually be
Industrial stacks stretch towards invisibility
Letting go of their concentrate
Gelatin mind
levitate into connection

Cups turned upside down
Entrapping ego in near vacuum
Aqua ducts bouncing off feline eyes
2 & a 4
Perfect air in a foreign atmosphere
Spinned on axis, ways to conduct
Your supply
Secede madness
Eternal order
Lungs sharply inhale with uncertainty
Hydroplaning your attempts at adultery
Decision was never your thing
Unmoving at every turn
Passion with objects
Reactions flicker between humility

It gives gifts
Your skin melts to the touch
Chocolate in magma
Molten sound deafens drench
Jealous mess, dividend
Hugging and dripping black with stability
Back, holy scripture written with integration
Sealed with treachery, acetate photography
Capturing clear innocence
Boredom and sinfulness
Spiked militant
Pencil drawn neuroses, veil
Bow down to schematics, we're radar
Sonar structure solar
It's all part of the process
Michaela Tripp Mar 2013
I love you.
I will never abandon you like everyone else.
Never would I hurt you,
Unless you disobey me.
For I own you.
You are my property.
Like a little teddy bear I cuddle
And squeeze you until your stuffing pops
Out from behind your eyes.
Your beautiful eyes.
Watch and observe.
Observe your body, disgusting.
I provide goals for you.
Something to do, a challenge to accept.
No matter how many times you cut the cord,
We will forever be attached.
I, as a newborn
Feeding off all that is you.
Or I, as your mother,
Protecting you and entrapping you, inside my womb.
Our lives depend on each other.
We are one.
United through your blood.
Your every breath.
I am your best friend.
Loyal and honest.
As long as you have me,
You need no one else.
Andreas Simic Apr 2022
Like thousands of soldiers in parachutes
they come out of the winter sky

One by one hitting the pavement
to claim victory for the season now unfolding

At first they are vanquished almost instantly
a price paid for those leading the charge

However as they begin to accumulate and cluster
a formidable foe is being created

Inch by inch, foot by foot, a fortress is being built
one that can be transformed into an igloo for shelter if needed

Soon the landscape will be covered by a heavy white blanket
left unattended it will run amok overwhelming all

As plummeting temperatures assault those not ready
once open lakes and river pathways no longer escape routes

A battering ram of inclement weather hampering travel
imprisoning those caught unaware of its fury

Snow drifts form obstructing passageways
entrapping those not prepared with an escape route

Waiting out the enemy a defensive strategy now in use
As it surrounds you on all sides building an oppressing presence

High winds and frostbite commingling in the air
that will dominate at the end of the day

Beauty or beast
The conflict yet to be decided.

Andreas Simic ©
There is nothing like the first day of winter snowfall and this poem celebrates and vilifies that which is yet to come.
z Nov 2016
It’s a bright night out tonight
a bright light like the light of a dead sun
bright enough to read by, to write by
star-studded? five hundred years ago it was;
and now,
while the night breathes in moist magenta
entrapping apartments beneath a wall of
light
is it day or is it night?

it’s red or it’s blue and it comes
still shafts of color, placid and turbulent like the plague
like locusts through the windows, open
like a woman walking in slowmotion
as the night advances in decomposition
and recomposes itself when the clouds lighten slightly
and morning comes wan, not bright
is it day or is it night?

when I was too young to know the moon’s movements
and naive enough to think that the
moon could shine as bright as the sun
I was confused, on a full moon
if it were night or day
and slept in my parents’ bed in uncomfortable doubt
if it were day or night

and now I am in my own bed
and the moon is nowhere to be seen
it’s a wet night in the city
a greenhouse, a science experiment
of its own light, under the magenta clouds, illuminated bright
I know it’s night
but it feels
not that way
feels like neither
night nor day.
Debra A Baugh Jul 2013
he laid me spread
like petals of a rose
in mornings dew

wet...

and gentle fingers
foraged; tormented
pleasure ripple

whimpered aches...

as I delight in his touch
gazing into warm brown
eyes, his sweet torment
begging

hungered panting...

hangs in our space, tingles
run rampant where tongue
glides; breathy sighs spill
flames of want

melding...

naked in blush; lips alight
against wet petals, spread
unabashed for his pleasure

eagerly...

hips ****** flush as tongue
touches, nibbling, tasting
consuming wet essence of me

ahhhh yes...

filling me stroke after stroke
the breadth of me in rhythm,
guiding; gliding flickering
front to back again and again

ecstasies trembles...

wet and wild passion rides,
taking him in deep up down
in out pulsing plunging in
stride

fingertips...

glide across aching breast
taut tips, moaned pleasure
slips between lips each dip
I ride; wielding flamed wetness
tip to shaft as he gasps

and I dismount...

tasting our bemingled wetness;
lingering in mid stride, teasing
veined throb ready to burst

easing, slowly...

tip tongue flickers head, he
tenses; to throat I engulf as
he begs, entrapping me tightly
between his legs

flushed...

his final ******, leaves me
submerged within our heat of
passion

still vibrant...

slides in the softness of me
where lips played, lush inside
my heat; enwrapping me in
the warmth of him


© D A Baugh. All rights reserved
Classy J Mar 2019
Once again Classy J the definition of a sin,
Deceased kindness that passes down to my kin.
Addiction restricting timeless memories that pour's softly within.
Sadly this is the only time warmth ever greets me,
Can I ever change? Beats me?
So maybe when history gets spun again and again the future has no choice but to be grim?
Fairy-tales woven into white lie's that negate horrific sins.
Minds going crazy that's got me turning into Harley Quinn.
Happily never after reforming heroes, that severs off well intended meanings.
Exceedingly dreary reality fraught with fog that makes it hard to see where we first began.  
That lights holy crosses on fire like the ku klux ****.
Entrapping lost souls inside a raven claws diadem.
No glad tidings left residing in thee,
When humanity keeps going on killing sprees.
Will we ever be truly free?
Or is freedom just a double edged poisoned sword like a hamlet tragedy?
Fending off hatred but how can one do it peacefully?
For even with civil rights the media still has no problem linching minorities!
So I’m left Watching as nightmarishly thin cows start eating up the healthy ones, who knew one vision of a Pharaoh could become reality?
For when good comes, the bad comes shortly after, so maybe instead of pointless debates we need to implement actions?
In order to have a true happily ever after!
But that all depends on us incompetent humans who divide everything and everyone into class systems.
With phobias turning others inhuman or illegal aliens that are in need for dissection.
Chopping up our own kin or refusing to vaccinate them because some stupid doctor claimed it causes autism.
So, we’d rather **** our children rather than having them associate within a disorderly spectrum.
Hmm. If you ask me that’s pretty ******* dum!
Guess that’s what happens when humanity tries to hard to get to the sun?
Thinking ourselves as God’s that be damning what others have said or done.
Getting offended over everything, man this **** is sure getting tiresome!
Colten White Apr 2015
Entangle me like vines,
in the entrapping gaze of your verdant eyes.
April 18, 2015
Ysa Pa Dec 2016
As my mind got flooded
By the thought of you,
My heart bled through ink.
In an attempt to enclose in words
What my soul is desperately conveying,
Entrapping sentiment in each letter
Words vandalized a blank space.
As the array of words continued flowing
Onto the previously empty canvas,
Reading what was previously written
On a long crumpled and recently dried
White tissue with black ink,
None seem to capture what
Was hidden in the ravines for so long.
All I wanted for you to understand
Is that, this right here,
Is the place where you belong.
Cee Valenso Jul 2014
Shadows
No longer mere figures following me
Developing minds of their own
They seek liberation from the commands of my feet
To fully manipulate me

Roads
Morphs into labyrinths before my eyes
Entrapping me into the darkness
Its unceasing modification disorients me severely
A thriving attempt to hold me captive

Stars
Lose their jaunty sparkle in the tenebrous sky
Turning into prying eyes whose gazes burn my skin
They observe me like a peculiar specimen
I am not alone

Songs
Begin to sound discordant to my ears
Reverberating vociferously across my room
Strident tunes thwack my skull mercilessly
Unable to think

Mind
Fails to function properly
Unhinging the helpless one
Its thoughts are chaotic, and in shambles
Another man is lost
David Noonan Jan 2018
lying here waiting to wake
may unconscious streams return me home
as a gentle flow succumbs to riverbank
meandering drift through memories of yore
aromas of sweetest royal fern consume
my days now passed for this night I long
to wrap me around a reed buntings song
so far from this storm of rattling gates
destined to tear through a fragile facade
reality she rides late on a January gale
entrapping my dreams in her deceitful fog
riverbank night heed a compassionate plea
o let sleep announce that I may finally wake
only when we sleep are we sometimes truly awake to the beauty and possibilities of living...
brokenperfection Oct 2014
his life lies at the bottom of the bottle
a glass body entrapping his soul
one by one, his giggling, gaudy girls
grow up into graceful adults
clinking glasses full of candid celebration
toasting their tranquility into theater walls
as he stands up to take a shaky step
toward the door, toward his girls,
the glass bottle drags him back under
Graphite embossments littered the page.

Each groove and curve leaving imprinted scars for

the eye to wonder but is limited to the imagination.

Back and forth, inwards and out, and up and around; but in

essence leading you to where the eye first left off.



The rays of day breaking light coming from the window

besides her has left shadows against her face and neck to disperse perfectly along

through the spine and around the rib cage. Continuing on to the

inward gentle slopes of her lower back as well as her ample arching hips down to

the definition of her legs while descending to the petiteness of her toes.  



Compositions flood my thoughts, transpiring one to stain the mind.

Her pastel smooth skin creating curved tones, while her figure gently leads me

around each indention that follow her distinguished yet unremarkable features.

Featureless of defects and abundant in beauty

her form keeping me attentive of the lines I begin to choose and commit.



With one curved stroke, the line implies her seductive form, then another, and another

suggesting the composition as a whole.  

Beginning from my sight reverted to my mind down onto the textured paper below;

capturing the pigments so remarkably sharp.

I round brighter tones highlighted by darkened grays to extenuate  

the contrasts of the room in relation to the delicacy her physique.



The charcoal and graphite I precisely placed on the picture

plane has my finger tips caressing and imitating the curvatures of her body.    

The tones and shapes caught by the eye travel from her onto the crisp white blankets

entrapping her on the firm white bed she lay on. The brightened tones of the window enhance the distinctions between light and dark and heightens the intensity of my interest to

make this compositions one of my best.
Courtney Joy May 2013
Sick of waiting for a truth I’ll have to find.
Eating from the inside.
Only your heartbeat calls back to me.
Rustling through the wind
Chanting to the beat of the drum
Calling me
Entrancing me
Entrapping my entirety.

So sick of all the wasted days
Ive used in angst to hear your name


A look at life through a simple lense
Something to which I do not contend
A simple agreement, accepted by fate
A burrowing shadow,
Encrypting my soul
Elating control
Until I’m no more.

At a loss of words
But submerged in pools of throughts
Spewing words up stream
All astray,
so complex yet so far away
Yet connected through time
In such a simple way

My life is but a silly rhyme
Candy Glidden Jul 2010
I saw you once in a dream,
Delicate, sweet face of innocense,
Drawing my heart to the palm of your hands....
Holding it there...
Mesmerized!


Sitting at your knee, staring into your eyes,
Magical webs you weave,
Taking me from my self-imposed solitude,
thrusting me into a rainbow's-journey....
Delightful!


Hours spent within your existence drift away,
Delicate, sweet face of innocense darkens in the fires glow,
Stillness cocoons us, entrapping us in thoughtfulness;
My heart in your hands, your eyes fill my soul..
Spellbound!


With the glow of the fire the night descends upon us
In this hour, this place becomes ours,
Together our souls blend deeply into one
To the precious, lasting moments, of US..
Picture perfect!


I saw you once in a dream, and I shall see you again.....
Copyright2005  Candy R. Glidden
Kaylee Sep 2017
You were beautiful from afar
Reflecting a variety of hues
Attracting with swirls and swiggles
Personifying some pattern of character

You pulled me in
Allowing my heart to pump
Letting me admire you
Giving your lovely essence to me

You then opened up to me
Horrifying to me
Destroying your cover
Burning down my love

You were ugly up close
Terrifying under your mask
Juxtaposing to what you seemed
Lying to pull me in

You attract the gullible
Acting all pretty and nice
Dancing with their joy for you
Swallowing them

You then betray them
Abandoning your fake
Backstabbing their beliefs
Entrapping them in lostness
I was thinking about a moth.... and then a butterfly... And i dunno..
Kiara McNeil Jul 2011
I taste the moon on nights like this.
The smell of damp grass opens my memories flood gates.
Everything rushes in.
Every soft kiss.
Every rushed fight.
Every unkept argument.
Then the way the moon lit up our bedroom.
Our.
We always hated those words didn't we?
Now as the orange-ish glow sets in and
It grows quickly. I think of you.
Your scent.
Your fragrance.
Alluring and entrapping me.
In you, I taste the moon.
Emily Jan 2013
I should have stayed far away from you.
I recognized the magic you were capable of.
The gleam you put in my eye was a poisonous lie.
Every night you held me could have been the last, if you only wished it.
I remember your fingertips tracing my skin and my mind fills with spiders crawling over my flesh.
My lips recall yours, sweet and warm, and my mind sinks to times I was sick with wine.
Your strong embrace is now a prison in my head, entrapping me in your steel, hard arms.
Every word you spoke lured me farther from my sanctuary out into the cruel open world.
And you pounced.
emily wiemann Aug 2011
The moonlight stretches over my madness
the deep blue of the sky with its twinkling scars
mirroring the shrapnel of marring marks along my soul
alone....like a soundless echo bouncing around the canyons
how could it escape me, why is everything awry
drowning in the spirals of intense light
such a vindictive prison, entrapping the body
in the nightmares life has become a shredded hope
pulled away like warm covers in the morning
why is it that im in a labyrinth...yet with no way out
sand has gone thru my fingers into the next player's hands
now without control i fly wild as chaos on the wing
no motives, no wants only one prickling need that can never be met
such betrayal leaves so many questions...all in a chorus of why
let this night be over so i may return
change and morph once again trying to fit the mold that was given
yet will it ever fit?
too small this world that im pulled into
on eggshells i tiptoe with needles piercing my skin
how do i escape such a vicious night
the dark inhumanity with its bloodlust is after me
in this cannibalized society
Aa Harvey Jun 2018
No bone


My skull has gone, no bone;
Just an open mind of the fallen Sun.
I collapsed in your arms and you held me close,
Just like I always dreamed you would.


I feel your hand upon my brain,
It’s funny but relaxing.
You feel my insistence for you again,
As the waves in my mind start you laughing.


We are connected, two people as one.
Come here, feel love and never feel alone.
Let me grow extendable arms, so I can wrap my arms around us;
My arms fly around you and I many times, entrapping us in love.


Stuck together forever, my love cannot be severed,
I Love You!
Didn’t you notice, that we made a connection?
A telepathic, subtle, intelligent discussion;
A meeting of the minds, blind to the eye, but there for certain.


You know what I think somehow.
I guess it’s written all over my face.
So you know I am telling the truth to you now.
I love you…I love her…I love (…) for she is my grace.

(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Joe Wilson Feb 2015
Voracious the appetite of government departments
Entrapping the citizen in reams of red tape
Bringing out laws that reduce our empowerment
They are in charge…there is no escape!


Woeful the behaviour of said politicians
Claims of expenses for things they don’t need
Peddling half-truths in the Westminster bubble
Those grand good intentions get lost to the greed.


But we do get a chance in May, this year
To say who shall mess up the next, let’s not gripe
Though it matters not where your crosses are placed
They’ll all make us suffer, no matter their stripe.


Patients will still lie in A & E corridors
While over-stretched staff do their best
Sick people die from a lack of attention
The system is wrong and not properly addressed.


The greed will go on, the poor will still lose
While the fortunate will reap the rewards
The disreputable will be given directorships
No men of honour left to fall on their swords.



©Joe Wilson – Outrageous fortune…2015
Seher Seven Aug 2016
ONE
Is imprinted on the back
Of a dollar bill.

The outer edges are webbed.
Trapped.

Excitement to find the hidden
Codes in the corners
During school days.
Those days of entrapment.
The slave training days.
Hey, awareness is my only
Approach
To breaking habit.

Those days, we scanned the note
Forward and backward
Looking for games.
Knowing make believe
When we see it.

Those days, when we were freer
Within,
Those days are staged with
Cob webs,
Like what do you want to be when you grow up?
And, black people were slaves.
This intricate Web so delicately
Entrapping truth,

WE are ONE.

It's the 1, the 1st, the real truth.
It's freedom, abundant love,
It's You. See WE in you.

The only work to be done,
The tribe is human.
We are scattered across our Mothers chest
She nourishes our breath.
We receive.

Those days I was imprinted with
Images of dollars in my head.
Now I prepare to break free.
Cob webs and spiders no longer
Intimidate me.
Bring it, I see. Clearly.

WE are ONE.
In WE I trust.
Fritzi Melendez Mar 2018
Sometimes I wonder if the razor blades I used to drag onto my skin leaves bits and pieces of itself inside my body.
It would explain why I'm always being pulled back into my room, as if it were a magnet.
It irks me that I always find myself standing in front of my bed and hiding under the covers until a new day begins.
I pull myself out, but I end up in this dull lighted room every single time.
I wish I could stop but my body self consciously just wants to be in here.
Is it the accustomed loneliness? The overwhelming depression? The looming anxiety? It's too much, my brain can't comprehend.
I just think about this while I lay in this ******* tear soaked bed.
I let my mind race while my arm trickles with the damages I've done.
They say blood is thicker than water, but when it's self inflicted drops of blood and bittersweet saltwater tears, they're both just as heavy.
I find myself punching and banging my head against the wall next to my bedroom door.
I can just... turn the **** and ******* leave, but I always stop in front of it as if it were a monster I couldn't defeat.
Am I entrapping myself just to make myself suffer? Do I enjoy this torture? Do I just love watching my knuckles turn green and blue?
I feel like I'm obligated to stay in this stupid room.
Maybe it's the self hatred telling me I deserve to be confined.
Maybe then no one will see my stupid face.
Maybe then no one can hurt me again.
No one else can hurt me but myself.
I know the capabilities to which my own destruction towards myself extends.
Some times I feel like I'm intentionally keeping myself in imprisonment.
I can't love myself because people tell me I must stay away from what I fear.
Fear is supposed to drive me away, not let it become one within me.
And I feel like shooting out my brain will make this white noise ******* stop.
I feel like slitting my veins on my wrists will make everything go away.
It can be so easy to take all this weight off my worn out brain.
All the pain, all the ache, all the hurt, all the suffering, all the torture, all the bruises, all the cuts, all the voices, all the reminders, all the insecurities, it would all just go away.
With just one single movement.
I can interpret this in however I feel would be for the best.
I can either open my bedroom door and run without looking over my shoulder, or I can open up my skin and watch it turn into a red and white color.
I just... need to get up. Move. Go somewhere. Anywhere. Leave. Now.

.... But I can't.
I have realized that I'm somehow always being pulled back into my room.

— The End —