"errs" poems
Dysfunction and happiness
Don’t usually go hand in hand
But that describes you and I story
The wise-man n’ Elle, a soldier n Simi
A bad-ass movie in a broken DVD player
More than ever our thoughts burn hateful
And deep in our souls, the will begets cold
Sealing us close and everything left to feel
An illusion of end that tarnishes our peace
Cleaner we walk and little by little we lied
We each run a race to attain the crown
I, the heir of Christopolis: a half man
A king with no kingdom – a danger
And you: heir of feline, an anger
A shy queen with no freedom
With no changes - so I ask myself
Is this a sample of psychological fraud
That people uses sensual relations n’ beliefs
To sway their cause to others; positive or not
Let us redeem your soul n’ gleam thou purpose
Sell me thou beauty for luxury n’ fame, she says
But the boy had his way with words: he opposed
Curiosity is dangerous n' assumption is powerful
Staring within her eyes with an abominable face
He turn n’ stormed away with grace n’ disbelief
Struggling not to outcry in compelling dismay
Twas nice to desire, but hers is not a proper
Piece of human sexuality; a noetic disorder
The lesbians and gays - the political tool
A change in the city, a proactive lie
That errs up as Satan - a musical fool
First he sings: “I bring peace and wealth”
Next they proclaimed: “It is a Human Right”
Another piece of the puzzle of human sexuality
But so the Book quotes – an abomination I hate
“No man shall have intimacy with another man”
Let’s not rearranged n’ be lost – it cost our health
For war is better than the choice of homosexuality
They know they are doom, so they tend to mislead
Some sit in shelters n' compose fraudulent grants
Lies, patriotism n’ tradition to keep society inline
For as long as they can, so afraid to lose control
But wealth and health must go hand in hand
For we are more of a lion than the least
Quite divine and above every beast
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 11:56 AM UTC
So many worlds, so much to do,
So little done, such things to be,
How know I what had need of thee,
For thou wert strong as thou wert true?
The fame is quench'd that I foresaw,
The head hath miss'd an earthly wreath:
I curse not nature, no, nor death;
For nothing is that errs from law.
We pass; the path that each man trod
Is dim, or will be dim, with weeds:
What fame is left for human deeds
In endless age? It rests with God.
O hollow wraith of dying fame,
Fade wholly, while the soul exults,
And self-infolds the large results
Of force that would have forged a name.
1.6k
As I cross this road of dreams and nightmares, I open my eyes.
Filled with sweet goodbyes and sorrowful errs, I leave my abode
I began to code fake smiles and laughters, then I start my sighs.
I began to cry, I began to curse, I then sang an ode.
I then hurried back in my solitude, I have found solace.
Joyful yet soulless, I gave gratitude as my own attack.
I was set aback by beatitudes gone without a trace.
I tried to save face, hide my attitude, deleting my tact.
Buried in my soul a desire untold to die all alone.
So I could condone my death as foretold in ash and coal.
It was my own goal since the times of old to hush my own tone.
As blinding lights shone a path of the cold as death takes its toll.
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 5:08 AM UTC
When I look down I know
one world apart
from when I look up.
A world below, more reality
than what I've known of reality
through living since my birth.
One earth, two worlds,
splitting hairs,
scrambling airs,
creating errors,
chastising errs
so much
that nothing's
learned.
Up/Down,
Living lies,
Blurring lines,
Up/Down --
It's not that I don't know
what's actually worth a ****
It's that I see worth as a curse,
and would, rather than peace,
see ecstasy return me
into the breeze
as dirt.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 1:13 AM UTC
Leave your imperfections
that I might know that you are human
That your stumblings
might resound a warmth unto my heart
Thy errs find grace
and forgiveness
in the steps I tread
before you
For I was no better
nay worse
than the efforts of your globe
of conjecture
My golden orb
fails in warmth
As I dreams of avenues
and cobblestone alleys
Of love of those
I know not any more
**** , this curse of time's
finagling abomination !
Yet I find hope
in the rebirth and youth
Let two souls come together
and remake the world anew
As for my glory
It comes down to reason
and the hope
that our imperfections remain intact
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 11:03 PM UTC
Show me dear Christ, thy spouse so bright and clear.
What! is it she which on the other shore
Goes richly painted? or which, robb'd and tore,
Laments and mourns in Germany and here?
Sleeps she a thousand, then peeps up one year?
Is she self-truth, and errs? now new, now outwore?
Doth she, and did she, and shall she evermore
On one, on seven, or on no hill appear?
Dwells she with us, or like adventuring knights
First travel we to seek, and then make love?
Betray, kind husband, thy spouse to our sights,
And let mine amorous soul court thy mild Dove,
Who is most true and pleasing to thee then
When she'is embrac'd and open to most men.
1.4k
Show me, dear Christ, thy Spouse, so bright and clear.
What! is it She, which on the other shore
Goes richly painted? or which, robbed and tore,
Laments and mourns in Germany and here?
Sleeps she a thousand, then peeps up one year?
Is she self-truth and errs? now new, now outwore?
Doth she, and did she, and shall she evermore
On one, on seven, or on no hill appear?
Dwells she with us, or like adventuring knights
First travail we to seek and then make love?
Betray, kind husband, thy spouse to our sights,
And let mine amorous soul court thy mild dove,
Who is most true and pleasing to thee then
When she’s embraced and open to most men.
1.2k
Wasn't so much afterthoughts
but rather the act itself;
that myoclonic movement
An involuntary reflex of sorts.
Prisoner to human conditions
conserving oneself with
The illusion of individualism
A Perceived idea of what is natural
An erroneous concept of right and wrong.
Blaming the sky for rain and storm
Instead of hiding under shelter.
Punishing clueless planet earth
Our thoughtless pollution of her the seas
Man and man at war
Setting off bombs just for kicks.
The errs was much more than just
you could taste its bitter like venom;
Blisters from a flame or the sting of a slap.
Tangibly intangible were the sins we did.
Sometimes we knew what
We couldn't be held accountable for
Being not the kind frowned upon,
We did it in such abundance.
But it wasn't their fault,
.
.
.
or was it...
Mar 17, 2022
Mar 17, 2022 at 3:16 AM UTC
[I appreciate all of the people who have recently taken an interest in my writing since my poem was featured on the front page!]
"It is not the critic who counts;
not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles,
or where the doer of deeds could have done better.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena,
whose face is marred
by dust and sweat and blood;
who strives valiantly;
who errs,
who comes short again and again,
because there is no effort without error and shortcoming;
but who does actually strive to do the deeds;
who knows great enthusiasms,
the great devotions;
who spends himself in a worthy cause;
who at best knows in the end
the triumph of high achievement,
and who at worst,
if he fails,
at least fails while daring greatly,
so that his place shall never be
with those cold and timid souls
who neither know victory or defeat."
-Roosevelt
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
Sometimes Silence is a Lie.
it drains the lake, it does... it siphons the symphonies.
it bleaks the speech, unbridled
from a long mute, to a mutiny. the mute in me ~
would rather, but we'd rather knot.
null reprisals, highly prize super nova
in the Scotia of our scathing
plight.
no other might. but...
we'll do what the light won't
in the dark night.
we'll trouble the cube. each of us, the rube
in tomorrow's ****
the Thumb
in the oyster of an ill quiet
where the Lord of Prayers
Errs the attempt
to split Heirs.
We inherit the wind
and a breeze.
And a breeze will ****
a Windmill
straight fair.
but not for the lack of peace.
but the fog of war.
at the very least.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 1:48 AM UTC
Fear of failure had me slogging
Constructing these walls of limits around me
And I’ve been confined in this prison for decades now
Consumed by my own self-made leviathan
Seeking for perfection, which smells not in this world
Procrastination, had me shackled on the same level
Letting time passing by, wasted
Assuming what the world may assume if may I fall
I may sleep in disgrace with fear,
Walking on the prickly path, away from your gashing eyes
I may drown in your scornful laughter, a stagnant pond
Of discourage for men
Whilst ageing not to be young no more
We grow naive with poor minds, weary souls
Thus age caries no wisdom nor oomph
To rectify errs of the past, though far ahead still glows
The lit of hope, the spirit to rise from the dust
To release my soul free and disrobe the coat of fear
To stand tall and soar above the horizon and reach the stars in the sky
Though I may never catch the time I let to flew away
Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 5:05 AM UTC
*[intro/verse 1]
Follow the ruts
To learn the art
Of shattering one's
Diamond heart
[pre-chorus]
the errs in flair
will flare the prayer
take one more step
if you really dare
[chorus]
the church and it's chairs
will be burning in flames
the frame of the graves
will fade in the darker shades
as the human race
start hating their faith
[verse 2]
Hear the howls
From the demons
Hear the owls
Late at night
Singing lullabies
Unsaid secrets
Unseen crimes
Will fear them all
Walls‘ve eyes
For your lies
Wolves will cry
With both eyes
Closed at night
Showing the signs
Of ending lives
[bridge]
We will all
Typify
The disaster of
Human kind
As the day and light
Will all die
[chorus]
the church and it's chairs
will be burning in flames
the frame of the graves
will fade in the darker shades
as the human race
start hating their faith*
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 8:44 AM UTC
worthy of me, meeting you
It seems that I have been held in some dreaming state of my mind...
T'is que que of mine
If this search is in vain
Must cease to perish
in this hunt
And I did risk
t'is inquest through hope
and prayers ..
stillness yet subsides
that takes up
trials and errors
till I hit it right ..
ah, cut the chase!
better than a life of lies and phonies
if my beliefs be in disbelief
Till I realized he got me, in grief
under his wings
trying to understand what love craves
sure better than a life of disgrace
No one has reached
this peak of ours
so why whine
whose blindness claims
I sayeth, it is unreal
I'd rather die deceived
by dreams than give it all out...
is it possible to say sorry..
because it's too late now
Perhaps, it's about to blow
my patience to my gentle heart
Ive been and heard so much -
what have I learned
But fool's am I
for one moment
I gather and rather write
just to release.
have the freedom
to achieve my best soul
can't deny past the vice he must
be double standard to all the crowd considers just.
Oh well, I understand the Way blindly stray., we errs fast..
If we will to be
such wildly hues
even if this search for hidden glories
Proves blasphemy at last,
be sure thine venture
Is not mere cheap talk
but an exacting test.
The fruit of love's greatly;
Whoever it tolls,
t'is knows passiveness.
When love has pitched hers
tent in someone's *****
Love pain will **** to death
managing any task just to survive
Love forces her to be his prodigy
He cannot take this till infirmity
That he is floundering in a sea of sins
T'is man desperately insane just to win over priceless love
Nonetheless, all these boils down
when U and I love,
I admit, I am blind or fool.
We just get wiser
and see in crystal clear
what is best and of worth!
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 3:42 PM UTC
People choose to give their opinions
When you never asked for them
It’s hard to have compassion
When it feels like you never win
It’s hard to hold onto the good
When you hands are tied behind your back
And life refuses to cut you any slack.
I need to take a break
Just a moment to breathe
I’m trapped within these walls
With people who can’t be please
It seems like nothing is done with any urgency.
No one to count on
If you want the work done
Everyone looking to cut corners
Even in conversation.
As if you’re in the way of their agenda and tasks
The questions they ask
About your day
Only have to do with what they want to say.
Conversation can’t be completed
Because people are always competing
To have the last word,
To be heard,
Even filling up the air time with uhms and errs
Reserving their speech
All you can do is listen and wait
And you begin to remember
You called them first
Barely able to spit in just a few words
You were the initiator, when did this reverse?
Now you regret ever calling at all
Thinking you’d be happy with silence
Than little fillers and empty language.
I once told a boy, who didn’t stop talking the moment we met
“You have been talking this entire time.”
I felt awful, like I was a little out of line.
But you should have seen what happened to his eyes,
It was like he snapped back to reality
Then quickly apologized, not even having realized
It was twenty-five minutes of a personal monologue.
Now I give most people the benefit of the doubt,
If after ten minutes I have said not a word
I’ll interject, and I’ve learned
There is no polite way to interrupt
The experiences I have had thus far
People didn’t even know what they were doing
Which to me, seems frightening.
These are the same people we see driving or operating.
Then some,
Just like the sound of their own voice
In those cases, they are a lost case
As a practical joke,
By them a voice recorder
Once you give it to them and they look a little confused
It will be an inside joke between me and you.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 2:18 PM UTC
The errs end
All come to mend
-Excuses away
Adhere to a calling
Amidst the falling
Footholds of dark
For depths unseen
Shall shine brightest
Under my light
No longer lost,
Just on my way
Far from home
I'm reaching out
Dec 26, 2018
Dec 26, 2018 at 12:49 AM UTC
Greenleigh:
Rounding your cottage side,
There you were, bundles tied,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
What plan were for the blooms?
In the kitchen rose fumes,
You truly hoped for a tryst,
Wine love potion cauldron,
Boiled in my drink to stun,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed.
Haven:
My beauteous neighbor,
I submit to ardor,
All in obscure struggles midst,
I see your distant gaze,
But you I try to faze,
You were all to me exist,
“I will beckon at noon,
In this hot summer June,”
All in obscure struggles midst.
Greenleigh:
But as I spy, I think,
Then discreetly slink,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
I culled my own blossoms,
His allures my thraldoms,
I truly hoped for a tryst,
To you a bit of remorse,
Yet my heart waxed full force,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
I catch the way you stare,
I will avoid our affair,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Supplanted your fetters,
Entreaty, scrawled letters,
He were all to me exist,
I thought to meet halfway,
Might I be led astray,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Wyn:
And I received her word,
Intended a detour,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
Read the book of magic,
My love to you chronic,
I truly hoped for a tryst,
Donned my riding garments,
Leas, with my assortments,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
Her eyes, you I outshone,
Heedless to her writ tone,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Fancied your ivor teeth,
Smooth skin, your clothes ‘neath.
You were all to me exist,
In daydreams I drifted,
Blunders, I self chided,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Greenleigh:
Shocked when I saw him trot!
With grasp I became fraught,
All in obscure struggles midst,
He visits you, not me,
Deceit deserved, yet plea!
You were all to me exist,
Could not look in his eye,
Yet utter not goodbye,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Haven:
“Neighbor, wrong I done ye!”
I watch only blankly,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Her twisted mouth distressed,
No one thought we were blessed,
You were all to me exist,
I mumbled, brimming tears,
Should have asked direct, fears,
All in obscure struggles midst,
He was the fool of fate,
Confused yet did await,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
I vied for your full love,
As you to his yet shove,
I only hoped for a tryst,
Rapt in misconceptions,
Mocked us, even aspens,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
All:
Yet not so sly were we,
Does cognizance come bleak,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
We greeted happenchance,
What’s left but insistence?
Our furtive attempts yet missed,
Admit not errs, turn rightwards,
Fracturing our concords,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
Greenleigh:
Anxiously sipped bottles,
And did we start battles,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
Suffused eyes, flushed faces,
Affects spill, anguishes,
Our furtive attempts yet missed,
We die lone in shambles,
Bonds of love in scrambles,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed.
Feb 10, 2020
Feb 10, 2020 at 7:53 PM UTC
The trouble started on the day
After the day before.
Youth and hope and love decay,
And regret won’t restore.
It seems this old and weary world
Holds much more bad than good.
I’d have assayed, but I was hurled
In this life before I could.
A world of cloud and bitterness,
A life of scrape and thorn,
So who would ever acquiesce
Ever to be born?
Because briars outnumber flowers
By ten to one at least,
Weakness humbles mighty powers.
Famine goes before the feast.
But feasts are more than fillings ups,
And hunger’s just a pinch.
And emptiness can’t stopper cups,
And straitening can’t cinch.
Bounty and joy are plenitude,
And destitution lack,
So revel in what’s nice, or lewd,
No loss can take it back.
A single flower fortifies
To brush away the burs.
Striving wins because it tries.
Forlorn despairing errs.
Jul 9, 2021
Jul 9, 2021 at 1:00 AM UTC
"And her, and her lime green hair
Calamax, oh Calamax:
The sister fair.
-
She estranged
From her throne
Had thoughts, and thoughts
Her neighbors grown
To runaway
To newfound grass
Intermediate memory
So she passed.
-
Flighty and light
Her steps were made,
Made meaningless strides
Eventually which dug her grave.
-
In time she added
All she did need
Every each day
She found feed,
Foal she was
Foolish and dirt
Likely to lose.
Her life-
Inert.
-
In path she was
To kingdom fame
To find reknown,
In gold so vein,
In this it was
And always will be
A forigen concept,
To the narrator: me.
-
"Calamax,
Your beauty full,
Come to home
Our cart to pull."
-
"Calamax,
We entreat you so
Rest with us,
A new home we'll be-
Stay and see."
This: their words,
Their strategy.
-
And soon she lay
Upon the road
The same she traveled
To escape ailing abode
In deep well she was
In cast: sad lot
Her feet bare, breathing stop.
-
Her talent took
Her far away
From family,
And daybreak smell
Sold upon
Life's errs and cracks
Her soul we mourn:
Oh, Calamax!"
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 6:21 PM UTC
Knowing what I know today,
I'm torn between honesty,
and never saying anything.
Pulling from my memory,
I recall expression
as a natural efficacy
of mine.
Fill me with love again,
love as the willingness
to speak as easily as
I can accept my errs.
Knowing what I know today,
I'm torn between standing out
and fitting into the crowd.
My slightly younger self,
saw my much younger self,
thought, my far future self
wouldn't have the gall.
My slightly younger self,
saw my much younger self,
thought, my far future self
wouldn't have the gall.
I'm torn between standing out
and fitting in, and surprise,
I did say it again.
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 5:34 PM UTC
Everything I have ever held alive,
Has in my arms, in that embrace died,
Beyond sophisticated errs
Of philosophers' wanting cares,
Devised a great facade upon
That which I could not crowd along,
To witness and embrace the end
To lust for an emblazoned death,
A trial of melancholy cultivation
Failed by folly, conservation,
Attempts to push, create ahead
A road therewhich we breathe instead,
Falls short of what, inherently,
Is asked from birth of us to be,
Individual lives are shadowed by "Events,"
Smothered we are, beyond all pretense,
Asking what it means to "Be,"
There is no such thing as "Free."
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC
In deep I cry
In deep inside
In deep I'm bound
Deep down I'm found
Cuddling the hounds
With demon errs
And ****** furs
While still I wait
For her a jade
To match those eyes
That played my smile
My heart your prize
Your heart my price
Forever towed
By lust and loath
Non lost nor loved
Nor up above
For her I wait
Not far or long
But here and now
Till death will come
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
a gentle, timid, quiet soul
held back in unknown chains
many years a dormant stirring
boiled-over passion remains
then a swift break - glass ceilings down!
observing ancient law
society errs in naming most
she conjured her wild claws
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 9:13 AM UTC
what is 'why'?
perhaps a question,
perhaps a belief,
or simply a confusion.
how is 'why'?
maybe its frustrating,
maybe doubtful,
or simply perceptive.
where is 'why'?
its in you,
its in me,
in simply everything we see.
why is 'why'?
because it errs,
because it resonates,
or simply because its human.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 11:45 AM UTC