"errupt" poems
Like an Oriental statue
She sit's upon a volcano;
As her beauty errupt's........
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©あある じぇえん
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 2:08 PM UTC
Worthlessness: The state of feeling unimportant and useless. This type of feeling is one that hits you directly in the center of your core, picking at your soul. One that makes your stomach feel saggy and your eyes like craters of the sea that over flows and blurs your sight.
Worthlessness is one that hinders the passing time as well your ability to move forward and it can come out of the void of extensive thinking.
It can cause your words to errupt and crackle off your tongue, only to be washed away by the heavy rain into a puddle of regret and sorrow.
All I see on the horizon is a dark blue hue that Cascades over the whole world.
All I feel is the bitter, frozen winds and the soft snow that numbs my skin.
All I can think of is black and grey clouds that wrap me up and block out any light that reaches out to me.
All that I receive for my rescue is a big brown ship that says "I'm sorry, the weight you carry is too much for us", then sails away, leaving me to drown in the middle of the ocean.
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 3:31 PM UTC
Dear tired soul,
I have been on that couch many times before
The empty sheets that sit at your feet
Before falling to the floor
The empty pages of memories you flip through every night
Before gracefully falling asleep as the last tear falls on the pillow cases
Stained with liner and half-met dreams
There are moments you stare out the window
The sky so bright you close your eyes and go back to that all too familiar place of darkness
The same hiding place you've led yourself in for years
Thinking no one could find you and your imperfections there
But praying that someone will
I have lured myself in the same corners you've cozied up to, tired soul
Made a home out of the shattered pieces
Of distant, repeating glimpses of the past left after the free fall
My heart has sunk deeper and deeper
But take peace in knowing that as it sinks, it does get stronger
And that one day it will learn how to resurface itself without you even trying
Dear Tired Soul,
Despite the world's constant feeding of negativity towards their conjured up idea of selfishness,
I want you to know that it's ok
It's ok to put yourself first
It's ok to let go
It's ok to take a break
You can not move forward if you do not take the time to pry yourself out of the chains that have dragged you down
Seek consult from those you want to emulate
These things do not make you selfish
They make you better
Do not force yourself to pretend
Your bones have quivered long enough
Your muscles are tired from holding up to their "perfect" standards
You were never meant to be perfect
You were meant to beautiful
You are beautiful, and will always remain to be
Dear Tired Soul,
You are loved
Beyond the stars and the skies above
Your maker has caught every drop of sin from your body
You need not to worry any longer
Seek rest in Him who gives you the strength to open your eyes each day
Take pride in these little accomplishments
Cover your ears from those who tell you otherwise,
For they do not know the excruciating ordeal you go through each day you get up from bed
The sudden battles that errupt within yourself
Whether it be 10 stories high looking over the city or on the ground when you look over your scarred wrists
Of whether you should give up, or give yourself another chance
Open your heart to what He tells you
And wait for the day when the suffering is over, and the crying shall seize
You are tired, my dear
But you are far from being defeated
I hear your pleads, as I have heard mine sounding the same
You will be alright, tired soul
We will be alright
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 4:12 AM UTC
*The Branch Bore A Bud,
It Was A Cocoon Of Life,
Soon It Would Errupt
The Young Leaf Emerged,
In Springtime's Renewed Sunlight,
Taking It's First Breath
The Leaf Grew Each Day,
Side By Side With Other Leaves,
They Would Speak Softly
Rain Would Come And Go,
And The Leaves Would Ask For Sun,
They Would Beg The Sky
The Days Grew Colder,
And Nighttime Consumed The Dawn,
The Sun Gave No Warmth
The Leaves Were Different,
They Were Red, Yellow, And Orange,
Ripened From The Cold
Slowly They Let Go,
One By One They Met The Earth,
Concealing Her Skin
The Leaf Recoils,
It's Flushed Cheeks Now Colorless,
The Branches Are Bare*
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 11:42 PM UTC
there is nothing real
your nostrils are one wormhole
and the pores on your face
are small hidden volcanoes
they can errupt any time
though they are just bunch of inactive ones
there is nothing real
not even your fears
that keep you awake for seven years
under the stars who let you burn
in the cold nights when
owls decide to sleep
------
yes i do
i love you too
------
there is nothing real
the bats, the crows
the knife, the bubbles
instead of pearls
flowers are growing out of tears
it makes me happy
like smiling never felt this easy
paint my face pink and orange
dunk my head in stale milk
i am growing peacock feathers
and claws of a phanter's
falling out of a window
there is nothing real
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 6:49 AM UTC
My my my
how time has flown
fully grown
cities living organisms
concrete equivalent to soil
buildings burst through the layers
windows errupt
beautiful
slower
wind in grass blades
everglades
marshes of alligators
chomping at nobody
publicity stunts
running for president
he shall be
doing
so grand a guy
sweet, heat
low and usually
a bit
timid
nevertheless
combustable.
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 1:06 AM UTC
When we first met
Both broken apart
What a good fit
So i thought
A friend to confide in
We built ourselves up
Fun and laughter
Volcanoe in sight
Soon to errupt
A chess piece unknown
Soon to be played
Not knowing the plot
I happily stayed
Years gone by
Beautiful highs
Heartbreaking lows
The sound of your mouth
Erased your lies
3000 miles away
All i wanted was you
Yet blamed for your sins
After waving goodbye so soon
You played your games
Made new friends
Black and white
Numbed your head
My friend moved on
Easch night and day
He made his choice
What could i say
Days with no sound
Conversations ran thin
To hear your voice
Where do i begin
You said you tried
You never went
Another lie
You chose to invent
You had no choice
So hit the road
Not even realizing
You are a fraud
You had your fun
Till u had no choice
The wall torn apart
Now has a voice...
... Kelcee All
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 6:20 AM UTC
I weaken at
the gentle touch of your lips
against my sultry skin
My inhibitions escape
as you run kisses softly along
my stomach, directly
above my waist
Your hands slowly roam my frame
showering me with feelings
of peace and serenity
My skin sweats out all my secrets
while you intently listen and use it
to your advantage
No longer shielded against you
my body begins to tremble with ecstasy
You make me feel this forgotten desire
that's awaken the passion imbedded
deep within my bones
I surrender and lose all control
My body is no longer mine
but now yours as we lay engulfed
in one other, perfectly intertwined
I anticipate the warmth of your touch
and tremble before you reach
your next destination
for my skin has memorized
that tingling sensation
Soul to soul we face each other
You look up at me as your
eyes intensely relay a message
my heart already knows
I throw my head
and feed my love to you
I moan and tremble as you travel
through my veins
I'm addicted to you
The affect remains even after
I errupt and not just with raw passion
I drift into a deep sleep
while my body still
twitches at the sensual touch of
your fingertips
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 3:57 AM UTC
Sometimes you must
take a stand, even if you are
just a grain of sand
in the ocean of life,
so you can get
inspired.
Inspiration comes
not from memories
or experiences
but from within and know
that there are no
mistakes only
lessons.
Growth is a process
of trial and error
and lessons
are often repeated
until they are
learned.
What you make
of your life is up to you
and the answers
that you are looking for
can usually be found
within and you just have
to know when
to begin.
Like the Ocean
carries grains of sand
words carry my love
with sounds and syllables
borrowed from foreign
lands.
They errupt from
a broken heart
or unhealed
wounds and shattered dreams
or forgotten memories
and missed
chances.
I can't speak of yesterday
because there are
so many things
that I could say
but there is no good, bad,
malice or virtue,
only time and
circumstance.
So many loves have
come and gone
that I just let
slip through my hands
like grains of
sand. Jon York 2012
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 11:41 PM UTC
My life goes crust to core.
explain
my skin my voice my hair, I.
My crust. hard and rugged, rivers flowing,
valleys blooming.
My people and love and life walk here.
And sometimes earthquakes rock me and volcanoes spew my magma.
what is in your mantle
Hot.
swirling and pushing and molding my crust.
inside i am
pressurized,
liable to errupt.
the minerals here closer
to what i really am.
and your core?
in nature:
inhuman, immortal and intangible
in being:
I Dont Know What It Is.
I,
The Globe,
am floating out in space.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 7:04 PM UTC
A quality in frost
that bites a sun-
drenched landscape
brings movement
about a body
causing reaching
hands to shake.
Toward an object with peace
inside a glass coffer.
It's pith displaying
A delicacy thats offered.
With a tension to shatter
what is tenuous to touch,
illuminating
one thousand more reasons
for trembling hands
to clutch.
As memories errupt into flames
Burning in a torrent of grace
The fire carries away
the glass coffer case
Inhaling short gasps of air
breath stolen by the flame
crawling along the carpet
the ash case sustains,
a sensation of annihilation
creeping into fate
Of becoming self-aware
In a glass coffer case
"Prey for eyes"
Soon the sun will shed
and give way to the night
Where frozen in position
A new glass coffer
will collapse and arise
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 1:57 AM UTC
Hiding behind a smile
She is broken
Losing everyone she loves
Everything's falling apart
She stays silent
While fights errupt
Wishing to help
But afraid to speak
Nights filled with tears
And days hidden behind smiles
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 7:45 PM UTC
and the planet bleeds from
a volcano of angst
and anger
refugees from the
black heart of fire
errupt on the scene
sending the ashes
skyward
in gouts
engulfing
Paris
like
Pompeii
wars errupt on the Main Streets
of Middle America
carrion for coyote
drug dealers
the PTSD
persuasion
has newly
vacant veteran's
tenement
bodies piling
like cordwood...
I hear the newscaster
announcing;
COULD WHAT HAPPENED IN
PARIS HAPPEN HERE?
WE ARE NOT PREPARED!
@ TEN!
duh.
in a country that
has forgotten its soul
we say goodbye to God
while Ol' Faithful waits...
soulsurvivor
11/19/2015
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 7:24 AM UTC
in a downpour of rain.
the world fades away in a flash
of white.
the rain slants and drizzles,
Beginning to fill the gaps of potholes.
And crooked cracks left empty
against the pavement.
the drivers behind
the wheels of their cars
turn their windshield wipers
on high, to no avail.
Their wipers constantly beaded
down, covered white.
Fading away.
the downpour is too heavy.
the rain is too heavy.
It's thuds bead down
against the metal car roofs.
my heart too sways in the wind.
Pinged and drenched,
caught in the downpour of how your
heart's whispers have turned to screams.
rain-soaked tears unveiled to fill the
gaps of all things missing.
including the distance between you and I.
Soon, I too will errupt and overflow.
Fading away in a flash of white
Jul 9, 2024
Jul 9, 2024 at 6:54 PM UTC
My life that's just so hectic
Is far from calming down
Stress levels overflow
Aggravated by every sound.
My head like a volcano
ready to errupt to the max
what I wouldn't give for
Just one day to relax.
No kids yelling, "Mommy"
Laundry that's already clean
A house so immaculate
Not even dust is seen.
Dishes washed and put away
The floors all nicely swept
Everything in its place
Exactly where its kept.
A massage for the body
Jacuzzi for the mind
A drug to make me stressless
It doesn't matter what kind.
Slave-free environment
No duties to acquire
Living just ONE day of freedom
To do what I desire.
Perhaps I wake up feeling lazy
Or I wake up wanting to shop
It will be my choice to do
whatever until I drop.
If the house turns to chaos
Or crashes to the ground
At least I'll know that when it did
ONE day of freedom I had found.
Jul 11, 2010
Jul 11, 2010 at 11:44 AM UTC
i love winter for the sole fact
i can invent living
in alaska or honningsvåg,
and never see the sun for four
months - it helps that in england
the skies are blissfully gray
at sunrise in this ideal season;
i'm adding to the cult of the moon,
a subplot of islam you might
call what i'm doing - no cult
of the sun, copper skin and
the cliché holiday in the bahamas,
no dream of all-you-can-eat buffets
at a holiday resort - tatar steak
for me and a chance conversation
over hákarl (kefir meat) watching
a volcano errupt in the night.
p.p.s. (pedantic post-scriptum):
the diacritic a in hákarl
is a sign of elevating the k, or at
least prolonging / exfoliating it,
stressing the two syllables -
well at least in my optic theory
of interpretation; or interpreted
to ensure the first syllable acts
like a definite article (the) in hebrew,
e.g. ha shem (the name) - not that
it does act like a definite article,
i'm sure in icelandic the definite article
is not spelled like the hebrew articulation,
but it's about the distinction in
the presented syllable compound
with the diacritic mark over a - also
inverted using a different notation
akin to compounded words,
id est ha-karl.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 2:58 PM UTC
well, you never swipe across to get a smilie and a
equator all at the same time, do you?
unless you’re chiseling the hunger
for a sir lancelot affection in
ordinance affirmed in cataract contrast:
usurper of the empire neglected,
by hanging ha ha!
also termed hong kong... labour government victory
was the preferred choice in terms of what
the queen would have ate had she ate charles i’s head first;
hey... we’re being invocative of the victorian gentleman
being the necessity of attire in what’s defined as asia
content to be europe given england be iceland...
and europe be content with northern africa as sanded plateau:
if england take ben nevis to errupt in hawaii,
and call it the utmost height of clustering & suffocation;
i'll call something else something else, and not
chanel la manche, the english cufflink, rather than sleeve attaché ruban:
oi v. ode of pauper's elephant trombone impression in #a
of the carving of celestial globes alongside orbits
into the pythagorean universe: triangularly stanced exempt.
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
This skin that I live in
Has not always been home
When people ask me why I have turned my body
Into a canvas
Into a picture printed piece of art
I respond
With a smile
And a shrug
But I know that the reasons
Go much deeper in me than the needle has
That there is
A volcano explanation
Waiting to errupt from my mouth
But it is not worth the energy
So I lift my shoulders up
And let them fall back down
I am often asked
What I would do
If I woke one morning
With regret burning inside of me
Filling my lungs like smoke from a wildfire
What I would do
If I learned to hate
The self-inflicted artwork that adorns my limbs
My response to that is not one I can cover with a laugh and a movement
Too many times
Have I awoke with a hatred for myself
So strong
That I've had to water it down with whiskey
Too many times
Right before my eyes
Have I seen my skin morph into alien green
Into stranger's clothing
Unfamilarity becoming a familiar concept
When people ask me
About fear of regret
I want to tell them
That my only fear
Is not having any
That if
A drawing on my skin
Is my biggest remorse
Than lucky I will be
I am told
That when I get old
When my skin is
Wrinkled and worn from
Years of experience
I will be embarassed of the photo albums glued to my body
But if I live long enough
To tell the stories
Of my limbs
If I live that long
I will know that
At that young age
It was
And
They were
Exactly what I wanted
I would rather have
A painted complexion
Than a vacant blank page
Rather have
An ocean of color
Than a sea of scars
If the filling of ink in my pores
Is a step towards
Learning to love myself
Then who cares
My tattoos do not read ****
Do not read rebel
Trouble
I have hope written all over me
And that is something
I do not plan
On regretting
My body
Is something
That I do not plan on regretting
I am trying
To make this house a home again
I am determined
To find shelter
Under this leaking roof
I am determined
To become
A masterpiece
Because I know
I am
A masterpiece.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 4:01 AM UTC
Remember the days we spent,
with flowers in our messy hair,
running through the fields,
hand in hand, with our eyes closed.
Trusting the wind as it led us both.
Remember when we'd play in the river,
and that one time with the water rat,
the only time you looked to me for comfort,
roles reversed for those few seconds.
I ******* miss you,
but to tell you that,
would be stepping to close to the edge,
the edge of the volcano that stands between us.
the place separarting what can be
and what cannot be.
arguing with that volcano would only make it errupt,
suffocating,what was, what is and what could be.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 3:23 PM UTC
Her lava shalt floweth
And her volcano shalt errupt...
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 12:28 PM UTC
I want to live a little bit longer,
Love a little bit harder,
Feel a little bit stronger.
I want to bask in my emptiness,
Then fill it with you.
You make me feel like I can fly.
You allow me to be myself,
Let me feel comfortable when notes errupt from my core, flowing out in what ever Melody I desire.
You love when I'm in nature, because that's when I'm closest to you,
You let me vent out and be real with you,
You never gave up on me and never will, and I'll never give up on you.
You let me live.
I know if the world goes down how you have shown me, you will be with me and they will all know.
They will see who you really are, not what those ******* books say, not who those preachers preach, not who my father says you are...
And in return, I will let you be you,
I will give you a break, I will be your friend and I will listen and look for you, because in the end there isn't anyone who can fully understand us, that's something we have in common.
I feel your sorrow for the world, but in the quiet moments I feel your peace.
Thank you for standing by my side and giving me my imperfect, hectic, interesting and beautiful life.
Nov 30, 2018
Nov 30, 2018 at 4:25 PM UTC
Everyone has this darkness within them waiting to be revealed
a darkness that no one can ever imagine
it takes a considerable time to trigger that feeling
for those who are away from it are lucky
but for those who know, always suffer
it is infused from the day you come to this world
and with you it exterminates
pain is what causes it to errupt
it chains all your feelings and extracts your emotions
you eventually become oblivious to pain
all you know is how your life is in shackles
how slowly, piece by piece you die out
like the incandescent light of a candle
it flickers in the darkness
and illuminates until someone blows it away
that is exactly how the life within you is blown away
your soul lifeless and you all alone
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 3:24 PM UTC
Sit in the fire and smile
Tell a joke
Make them laugh
All the while, burning.
A wink and a nod
Just to advise
The blood still flows
In veins amongst bones.
Collect routine days
As feeble forgotten memories.
It all builds
I feel it, building
Deep within
Rice paper skin.
I may errupt
I may contain
For now, sit in the fire
And smile.
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 4:01 PM UTC