"eroded" poems
They rest all over
whilst I was rooted to the ground,
the water acting like superglue
as my limbs stretched out.
Towards the clumps of land
rods of steal and wood weaved,
to connect and *****
that which we call humanity.
But there were abuse on the rods
formed by hands who'd calloused hearts,
poison coursing through their veins,
but not a single thought was given
for they were innocent in their brain.
Said limbs and rods spiraled out,
as nothing was left to chance,
intertwining everyone's destiny
in majestic flare and grace, grand
like a ballerina's dance.
But the poison was too corrosive,
the termites were too much,
as everything eroded, imploded,
crumbled and buried under
mounds of earth.
But today is different,
a new beginning, a new life.
As if the gods have willed
something better to arrive.
Indeed they came: Ports
forged from purity anew,
where fresh legs are delivered
and old legs whisked away.
For no matter how dark it
was, is, will be,
even during the night,
there always is and will be
a pip of light.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 7:46 AM UTC
I stood there,
Tall and proud,
Half yard behind
Death drop,
Vortex form at toes,
Put fish world in spin.
Crush moss trees with
Splashing feet.
One long gaze
Left to right,
Miles of pool and stream
Spelling poetry in cursive
Through eroded landscape.
Zip down,
Junk out.
Open gates of flesh tap
Muscle relax,
Fresh release
Of human nectar.
Light separation
Casting rainbow shimmer,
A dancing upright
Tower of liquid.
Gravity outstretch
Palm grip
And connect
Via web of
Golden pour,
Chaps eye to
Mother earth.
A converging
Of torrents,
Saturating transparent terrain
With saffron and lemon.
The taste in a frog's mouth
Of sweet ammonia.
Clench,
And donation over.
A momentary meld
Of man and nature.
Those few seconds
Putting context into me:
At one with the scenery,
An extension of environment,
A limb of creation.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 8:15 AM UTC
Remember that old uphill trail
We used to meander along
With matching footsteps
Under the sunlit canopy of leaves
Carving words for each other
On the bark of aged trees
Who may have known
what would become of us
But nevertheless smiled
acted as a blank canvas instead
And watched the moments
Filled with playful laughter
Peachy smiles
Lingering gaze
Warm caress
Unfold lazily between us
The winds of time
May have blown us miles apart
Our footprints may have long eroded
That sunlit canopy may have withered
And we may walk that trail
Only in our dreams
But those words are yet to fade
they were the voice of our soul
Etched into the lap of nature
And as I run my fingers along its rugged edges
I reminisce about you
And hope that wherever you are
You are thinking about me too
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 5:40 AM UTC
if you are the sea
i am the shore
eroded by your waves
yet missing you when
the tide recedes
(A.H.Z)
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 12:32 AM UTC
She walked through the streets in her shimmering
dress that hugged her skin as if part of her being.
Speaking in tongue misunderstood by thought she
stared not at you but within you as if she was gauging
the purity of your inner grace.
"What's a pretty girl like you doing alone?
"Where did you fall from,
One goaded, smiling she replied,
"I fell a long way down,
"Dii me ridere, [loosely translated]
"The gods are laughing at me?
She smirks at those in plentiful urgency to expel
what time they have on tribal necessities.
Wondering into a alleyway she had a few to choose
from but this one barely lit.
The spider and the fly came to mind, but who
was in the web and who was but a husk waiting to decay?
"Lady you going to have a bad night,
"Bad night, try bad millennium you apes make me laugh,
"Who you calling ape woman?
*"Lets see your hairy, you smell, and you scrape your
hand on the ground, no sorry ape is to good for you organisms,*
Her dress seems to separate and he hair lengthens to hide modest
of a body of perfection. before there eyes is an angel but her
feathers are as onyx as coal. "See my true from, As screams
bathe the walls and wisps of smoke ascend not to heaven
but fade in the wind. Eyes are charred echoes of where sight
Was blessed now eroded into husks of nothingness.
*"Silly little things, when will they learn that there are things
in the night you shouldn't play with,*
Walking out of the alley a smile on her face, she hadn't
had that much fun in a while. Scorching a soul wasn't
fun but they weren't worthy of it any way. Now she
was off to see what this nice little black number
would help to get a free drink or two.
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 2:46 PM UTC
I will love you so fiercely
that the sun's love shall never again feel the same
nor hold you hypnotized in its beauty.
I will drill my way
down
to your heart
though it may be a tedious task.
I will peel you
layer by layer by layer
until all that is left of you
are your organs and your soul.
But;
Once I too am inevitably consumed
eroded
by the tide of this ordinary life.
If I have not ******
the life
out of you
in an attempt to show you how strong my love is,
And if you happen to outrun this love of mine:
Play hopscotch
on my tombstone
and pour tea parties in the graveyard
in my memory.
I promise to attend.
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 3:00 AM UTC
Somewhere between eggshells and landmines
Were the creaking floors upon which I played
Carefully, for her wrath could be detonated
At a footfall, just a bit too heavy
From a word uttered under the breath
A mess left too long in the sink.
But her embrace was warm,
Wrapping around me like sheets from the dryer
And when she put on pause her own life
To tend to me at my sick-bed,
Her eyes showed only tender love.
“My baby goat,” she would say, affectionately,
And leave a kiss upon my feverish brow.
She is a living contradiction, my mother:
Churning disapproval shattering the gleam
That she put into the hopeful eyes of a child
Just a moment before.
I lived in perpetual uncertainty,
Never knowing which mother I might see next:
The raven or the hen.
And now she looks at me with disappointment,
Wondering aloud why her children fear her.
Her capriciousness eroded away any trust
And much of the fondness as well
Her hot-blooded adoration
And her ice-cold tantrums
Have mixed so long now
All that is left is
Lukewarm like the bathwater
Left over from when the
Baby was thrown out.
Sep 11, 2023
Sep 11, 2023 at 7:16 PM UTC
Less than content with
the content you're left with
corrupted
with eroded shoulders
worn down by
the weight of your potential
don't believe in fate
if god decides to show its face
**** on your words
here that bitter regret
bruising
test the limits
of your passion
of your trust
one is daunting
the other claustrophobic
to be caged so tightly by anxiety
tortured by the thought of imperfection
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 5:20 AM UTC
Despicability is the foundation to their life
For them it is intrinsic
Genetically encoded
Simplistic
Poetically eroded
Reprehensible at best
**Unscrupulously callous
Secrets and facts, they conveniently
ingest
Distorted byproducts, they release to the
masses
To aid their campaign; a forked tongue
fest**
Pathetic and unapologetic
A beast armed to the teeth
Imported bypasses to increase the flow of police
A weakness and an act,
They so vehemently attest
**Harvesting greens off the branches of
the people
Pockets engorged with wads and folds
Crushing blue collars at the lower levels
As they sit atop their pyramids of gold**
Today they sip champagne
To celebrate their reign
Tonight we'll skip being humane
To feed them excruciating pain
**You've incited this coup with ill-thought
deterrents
Now herald the arrival of the scourge
Down with lopsided governments
Tonight... All we would topple! Tonight we purge!**
Justin G
ryn**
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
We belong to Generation Z
We are objects
Mass produced, labeled, and sold
We are facebook, instagram, twitter
The fear of corporate America that we may define ourselves
We are molded, whittled, eroded
Down to a sliver of what could have been
We are given castles in the sky
And heads in the clouds
We are given smartphones and iPads
Our eyes are looking down
We are potential, opportunity, the future of the nation
But there's no future for this robotic generation
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 12:07 AM UTC
I felt her presence,
hovering over my grave like a mothers last prayers
Like a fathers burning sorrows after thirty years drunk
Alone she stood, framed against the soft blowing trees,
and the dancing wildflowers that were placed as an ode to the dead
She held orange petals to herself,
close to her chest, as if to let them hear a heartbeat,
but the ear of a flower only picks up meaningful noises,
not the slow tempo of a withered muscle,
overworked from exhaustion
She wore black, knee high leather boots,
and a matching jacket
Her hair was wild, and she looked *****
She smelled of ***** and no showers,
cigarettes and sweat and blood
She looked of regret,
and her eyes sang tunes of pessimism
Anxiously she removed the bright flowers from her *****
Poppies, by the look of it
She presented them to the face of my headstone,
cracked and eroded with age, my name barely recognizable
Left with nothing, her fingers went to her short blonde hair,
matted and encrusted with dirt
She ran her hands nervously throughout, eyes constantly distracted
Suddenly, she focused hard on the headstone
A tear fell from her eye, and I watched it soak into the concrete
Her lips moved in familiar shapes, but words were lost to me
Every word
But one
A name
Abigail
And she turned away, walking crookedly into the wind and rain
And though I know she was talking to me,
I could feel the name on her lips, see it in her eyes
She scratched the insides of her arms as she disappeared from sight,
and I felt a longing in my own
"I walked away from myself that day. I gave it all up for hope. I guess this just goes to show what it's worth. Maybe I'll understand it one day, but for now, I am dead to everyone including myself."
Abigail Hollow
Jan 1992 - Aug 2008
A loving daughter, sister and poet.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 5:52 PM UTC
I’m sick
And I’m tired
I’m eating my words
As they dance on my tongue
Making me squirm as they turn
Oh I’m biting
I’m chewing
Simply swallowing my pride
For I can’t say how I feel
No matter how hard I’ve tried
For they pin me
They ***** me
Puncturing my mind
As I sit here and silence
Muted like a mime
I can’t say it
I fear it
The version that you’ll see
If I emit all of these feelings
My caged memories
For they haunt me
They taunt me
Like a stained porcelain tub
You can’t rid it of residue
No matter how hard you scrub
That’s my mind
They’re my eyes
Tinted a light shade of blue
As eroded as these beaches
I’m drowning from you
Your fingers
They’ve grabbed me
Now bruising my soul
How can one escape from your grasp-
I just long to feel whole
For it was physical
Now emotional
Unsure which one is worse
See these flashbacks you’ve gifted me
Were your most vicious curse
Alysia Marie 2018 ©
Dec 22, 2018
Dec 22, 2018 at 10:52 PM UTC
The needs of the flesh that tempt the soul
igniting our desires, setting things upright
vibes vibrating positive vibes between thighs
Ambition eroded true skin; exposed
Jun 27, 2019
Jun 27, 2019 at 10:18 PM UTC
Look up and breathe it all in
The sky is crying, exploding
with a torrential waterfall.
Inhale natures’ showering
an unblemished symphony
The black cloud’s unavowed weight
lingers invigoratingly overhead
Emotions ebb and flow
with the moment’s
immanent spirit of light;
there is a liberating sensation
that excites anticipation
of the sky’s impending
purposefully fated release ...
Heavens… flood down holy water
in a drenching act of baptism
a merciful drowning in a river
of celestial tears
Dowsing rains wash over
in a cleansing rain
Refresh the dust and ashes
the fallow summer leavings
What once was a blossoming presence,
evolving into a dimming
cold winter reign...
Now all that remains is but
a shadow of what once was;
hearts and bones nearly eroded away
by the years of fallen tears
To rinse away unrequited love’s
stagnant inversion, washing away
the invisible bonds that bind
to the loathsome heavy ball
of an unforgiving chain ...
Know the cleansing rain
is the spirit of love, washing over
a malnourished heart of soul;
exposed and bared naked
to a remiss world
Looking out with thoughtful eyes
into the boundless universe
Never to stop believing
rejuvenating dreams course beyond
this long road
Imagine the storm clouds
parting in the ominous
threatening sky
as an uplifting awakening light
comes shining through;
renewing the promise
that surrendering to love
shall renew purpose
and it feels like rain...
baby can you feel it (?)
December 2012 © harlon rivers ... all rights reserved .
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 7:24 PM UTC
Back in those days
when I was young and strong.
Pristine, Noble,
as pure as you'd long.
White as a dove,
handsome as a king.
I'm a token of love,
far greater than a ring.
My making contained
both good and bad.
My maker being
a hot headed lad.
Blood as blue
as the skies and seas,
I stood along the riverside
enjoying the occasional breeze.
My history is both
wonderful and morbid.
My beauty-spoken of,
I'm known by each kid.
Lovers cherish me,
write songs of my presence.
create tales of their own,
activate every sense.
And now when I speak,
when I look at my current state
I'm sad, deeply sorry
at my distressing fate.
Handcrafted marble
whiter than milk.
Quality as such,
smoother than silk.
Today has eroded,
decayed and died.
It matters not
how much I've cried.
For it all falls on deaf ears
while factory noises expose my fears.
My white is no more,
I'm a deepening gray.
I see pity in the eyes
where once admiration lay.
The pride of India,
its biggest glory.
The life of Agra,
this is my story.
Being the crown of the nation,
the jewel of its eye.
A wonder of the world,
I feel like a lie.
For what I am today
isn't me at all.
I've lived at great heights
survived a great fall.
It is my request
sincere and deep.
Give me no reason
to further weep.
Awaken. Arise.
the time is here.
Preserve your glory,
keep the pride near.
I am none other,
than your beloved Taj Mahal.
this is my story,
one I ought to tell.
Now my life
is in your hands.
the choice is yours
as are the lands.
Choose wisely,
The devils or me?
Perish with them
or rejoice with me?
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 6:45 AM UTC
I like it here.
Damp air clinging to my skin, clinging to my clothes,
Grey skies laughing at pewter water,
Wind tossed seagulls reeling passed
Individual calls demanding attention; their joint voice hushing into the soundtrack of this place.
Buildings cluttered together for protection from blasting winter gales,
Yet all jostling for a glimpse of the harbour.
Guess in their own sleepy ways they like the thrill of danger.
Their red tiles roofs so reminiscent of Mediterranean towns,
But inescapably speak of home.
People traipse past, creating the shifting landscape of this place.
Their own lives and concerns mingling to create a vast sea of humanity,
Mirrored by the roiling sea...
Just beyond the safety of
This harbour.
This bench.
This packet of vinegar soaked chips.
I'm glad it's you here with me
Glad I can feel your soul soar with mine at the salty air and eroded stone.
Beside me
Hunched into your coat
Gazing out.
We don't touch
But I feel you there
With me.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 10:49 PM UTC
Thought is finding its shape,
Becoming stronger¹,
And word by word,
Layer upon layer,
Self-erasing,
Taking form².
The mind is a collage
Creating itself from cut-up scraps¹;
It is a sculpture built by a flowing
Fountain of sand,
Both constantly being eroded
And being formed
And grown by the erosion²,
The sculpting fingers of erosion¹,
The sculpted shadows of forgetfulness².
Grains of memory
Beneath the fingernails¹,
They fall, they forget;
One remains².
Mar 22, 2022
Mar 22, 2022 at 6:12 PM UTC
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Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 9:01 AM UTC
I stand upon a familiar shore,
of white sands and ocean waves,
looked upon so many years before,
you and I joined as true loves slaves.
Salten sea breeze fresh upon my face,
casting mist and haze like some dream,
where I see that other time in this place,
bound forever, or so it then did seem.
In this place I now stand so all alone.
as if drawn across rolling dark water,
to calmer days once warmly known,
before love like tide ebbed unto it's slaughter.
Days when loneliness was an unknown.
where sun was warm, and seas were still,
before any storm squall gales had blown,
or wave and wind wrought it's winters chill.
You alone were there to share my time,
I recall beauties smile upon your face,
beauty before tears performed their crime,
it was you that made this a perfect place.
But this sand now beneath my feet,
leads nowhere I would wish to go.
My memories now of loves defeat,
in a time my heart still longs to know.
Sand worn away and faded coastal dreams,
waves roll and ebb high upon the shore,
eroded memories by times cold extremes,
Never to know the beach as in those years before.
Mar 31, 2022
Mar 31, 2022 at 12:20 PM UTC
A dying man does nothing easy,“Lock and load. Let's do it”,said G.W. Green
Right before Jack Pursley sent 3-5 grams of sodium thiopental coursing through his veins
in Texas. Sticking with the states motto it was probably 5. As lethal drugs flowed into his arms, he used an obscenity to describe life, gasped once and made no further movement.
Imagine his brief confidence in the face of this adversity, before the heart’s blood
Settled in the ventricles.
Some have called such confidence a monstrosity titled, “Hubris”--
Alexander of Macedonia thought it necessary, to cross the turbulent river against fear
-ful odds. For destiny demanded imitation of his exemplar Achilles
Quickly eroded was this by the pleas of Parmenio, who reasons it would be,“failure at the outset.”
Imagine Alexander reciting the words of G.W. Green, instead of heeding to this squelching caution
How quickly we’d throw this decisions bones in the pile, with ******
In Stalingrad & Nixon in Vietnam
All to be shoved in to, a mass grave of faulted zealots.
Covered with soil, bitter compost not to be forgotten
Rosemary sprouts next to a burning
bush in Iraq.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 5:36 AM UTC
Who decides life is not worth it?
You?
God?
When you reach this point, questioning living, breathing, you play god.
You feel your mind make,
take,
break
and create
new processes never felt before; a process of passion,
confusion, contradiction and confession.
You strive just by the thought of not surviving.
The
downfall
of a
suicidal
mind.
Painfully and buried deep down the impulses slip out.
Screams for hopes, answers, connections, positive aspirations.
Constantly wondering is this it?
Is this the end?
That your life can never peek again,
so the result of your collapse is an
eternal slumber with the devil by your side.
Whispering in your ear telling you about the ache
and sorrow your sinking heart and conscience feel.
An eternal hell. An eternal anguish, torment, suffering.
Do you stay in the hell on earth or hell in the after life?
You examine all the details
over and over
only thinking of your lonely pitiful life.
Meaningless and outrageous.
Screams moving around trying to get out but only
bouncing back inside of you to find
the little nothingness in which they are in seek of.
Literally, are taking you in and cutting you into
the smallest treads as possible over and over.
Never letting up to give the one underneath a second break.
Pounding as hard as possible.
Thudding and pulling, twisting and hurting.
Neither end nor good.
You can feel the over whelming sense of your corruption
taking you headfirst and choking your every last breath off.
Cutting it away like a river being eroded by things we cannot control.
Your life you cannot control.
People you cannot control.
You see the only outlet in your mind
but it burdens you with insanity behind it.
Taking life; your own life.
The reasons are bliss.
Sweet tender resolutions freeze
over your tempered thoughts,
fragile thoughts of a
suicidal.
Unaware of the footprint left behind.
Your stomach churns,
stirs
and confusion
sets in once again.
You feel ***** rising in your
throat about to implode
but it’s just an illusion created
in your mind;
hallucinations.
Questions are still increasing
their intensity and passion.
With every moment of aloneness and isolation,
the time ticks away from you until you feel as though
you will fly into a rage.
You take a deep breath;
intense thoughts.
Questioning right verses wrong;
life verses death;
now or never.
Take a step back
and pull the trigger;
welcome to the end.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 3:27 AM UTC
**WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF CASUAL ***
True romance is dead
it is buried in the dense rocks
eroded from the cliffs to the valleys
it's silenced in the pitch of a symphony
It's a poet dream
to write sweet sentiments
kiss in the nothingness
sketch love as if a masterpiece
Now a Tinder
where you can plunder
curves and bossoms
with no responsibility
Then Ok Cupid
where conversations
tender and ponder
before unleashing the game
There is always POF
where fishes dare in a swim
kissing and pinching
punching and finishing
True love is an illusionary debt
a cheque in deficit
An emotional injustice
the unrighteous pursuit
It's a poet's dreams to love
count the stars and watch the moon
nurture emotions and connections
The probability is the world won't let us
It won't let us be
Ladies just undress and expose the jubblies
Men just undress and measure your *****
the world won't let us be
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 11:38 AM UTC
Once Upon A Time…
I was a rock
Strong and proud as rock may be
Nothing could be more fulfilling than to be that rock
When you are looked upon as the symbol of strength
Always being that strength for all time
How strong it feels to be the rock
Over time I was eroded in a mere pebble
All that could chisel me down came like a storm
Everything that gave me strength was destroyed
Sometimes even the rock needs something to lean on
But the sands of the foundation
That which once was my own rock
Drifted away
Down the hill to where it lay
Tumbling down
In a downward spiral
Bashed to pieces
I became just a pebble
A concise pebble was me
With full conscience
Of my former self
I lay now next to the grass
And in time we became closer
Yet again time was not the friend
And the storms came and washed the grass down
Down the hill myself I rolled
As that foundation too was gone
Fate as it be
I found refuge next to the grass
And the sand was kind
It rolled gently beneath
Now I covered and gave the root of my grass
Sanctuary and a place to flourish
And together we gave joy to each other
Here on earth
Looking at the wonderment of sky
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 11:33 PM UTC