Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"escalating" poems
Lost is the African pride Gone are those who could ride the tide Left are those who drown beneath the wave Prone to dehumanization because of greed I see burning buildings Mutilated bodies Escalating violence And social unrest Lost is the Spirit of Ubuntu Left is a society deprived of its integrity Selfishness and poverty is at the core of our society Is the real Africa lost to antiquity? Crime is rife as people strive for a decent life. A decent life earned through decadence Should we stone foreigners because the government is failing to provide employment? Or should we burn down buildings so that our voices can be heard? I am ashamed of the profanity we breed It’s a calamity for us to be xenophobic It’s a taboo for us to call Africans foreigners in their motherland. It’s not who they are. It’s not who we are It’s not who you are It’s not who I am Together we are the Africa that has survived slave trade The Africa that has survived apartheid The Africa that has survived colonization The Africa that is surviving westernization We don’t fight for employment We create employment We don’t breed resentment We translate sentiments Let us evoke the Spirit of Ubuntu And let’s behave like men not animals Let us ignite the Spirit of Ubuntu And let’s stand like men immortal The Spirit of Ubuntu is what separates us from animals Terrorism shouldn’t exist in Africa It’s a disgrace for us to be unethical Xenophobia shouldn’t be heard in Africa Animosity is not our portion
0
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 6:28 AM UTC
The Spirit Of Ubuntu
Lost is the African pride Gone are those who could ride the tide Left are those who drown beneath the wave Prone to dehumanization because of greed I see burning buildings Mutilated bodies Escalating violence And social unrest Lost is the Spirit of Ubuntu Left is a society deprived of its integrity Selfishness and poverty is at the core of our society Is the real Africa lost to antiquity? Crime is rife as people strive for a decent life. A decent life earned through decadence Should we stone foreigners because the government is failing to provide employment? Or should we burn down buildings so that our voices can be heard? I am ashamed of the profanity we breed It’s a calamity for us to be xenophobic It’s a taboo for us to call Africans foreigners in their motherland. It’s not who they are. It’s not who we are It’s not who you are It’s not who I am Together we are the Africa that has survived slave trade The Africa that has survived apartheid The Africa that has survived colonization The Africa that is surviving westernization We don’t fight for employment We create employment We don’t breed resentment We translate sentiments Let us evoke the Spirit of Ubuntu And let’s behave like men not animals Let us ignite the Spirit of Ubuntu And let’s stand like men immortal The Spirit of Ubuntu is what separates us from animals Terrorism shouldn’t exist in Africa It’s a disgrace for us to be unethical Xenophobia shouldn’t be heard in Africa Animosity is not our portion
Continue reading...
40
I'm calm, I promise Just don't convert me Just please be honest And don't desert me I'm lost in obsession In all directions Will you be laughing, When I lose possession? My heart's fading But there's no answer To all my waiting It's like a cancer That now controls me It's gaining power I'm fading slowly Under desire The night's a weapon I use against me It leaves impressions On me gently And when the morning Comes in higher Without a warning Comes desire If I'm still waiting When you find me No escalating Just please come find me When it's over All of this waiting All this desire Is never fading
0
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 1:37 AM UTC
Desire Fading but Not By Waiting
We've had a turbulent journey together And as he pushed the bike, slowly did his hand release me Riding the crashing waves I admit my struggle And my childish naivety gave passage to worser threats Yet still he stands there, waving me on my way Even to this day, despite questionable confidences, I still turn And still he stands there A rebel I didn't mean to be, but I am cursed with escalating emotions Or maybe he would say a blessing, to empathize and find strength As memories haunt me at night, teaming with those of ill will The sensitivity he passed on to me prevails, Innocently I am slowed But my wheels continue turning, and my heart stays true Though my eyes and ears remain obstructed, my heart makes a turn And yes, he still stands there His presence unpurposefully commands attention And his knowledge, he gives without catch I understand the wars he must encounter, and yet he stays calm Giving peace to the tide, he offers nothing, but gives everything I unconditionally love him I honestly hold respect for him, He indirectly teaches me And fuels me with his love In this moment, I turn back, not for fear of falling, But to wave back to the man who let me go He is no longer there, standing firm in his spot No My friend, my father, he rides by my side.
0
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 1:23 PM UTC
Learning to Ride a Bicycle
Like an onion, I had layers. And you peeled me away, one at a time. One layer off. You saw my favorites. The food and drinks I crave for. The wall paint I wanted for my room. The perky dresses, nail polish, knee-high boots. And the spot I always prefer to be- on the front seat. One layer off. You saw my hobbies. The words I stitched together. The stars that formed our zodiac sign. The wallclimbing, badminton, volleyball. And the guitar strings that strum our lullaby. One layer off. You saw my dreams. The plane ticket to Paris. The thrill of a bungee jump. The candlelit dinner, fireworks, dancing fountain. And the license as a medical physician. One layer off. You saw my strengths. The smile behind the false judgements. The tears I fought back with pride. The temperance, confidence, adjustments. And the self-love I have strongly magnified. One layer off. You saw my insecurities. The missing dimple on my left cheek. The pimples on my forehead. The bitchface, fierce stare, strict walk. And this prominently thin-but-tall body figure. One layer off. You saw my regrets. The kisses I could have refused. The friends I thought were true. The false assumptions, unmet expectations. And the trust I gave to the wrong person. One layer off. You saw my secrets. The punches I had to take. The bruises I covered with my sleeves. The lies, frustrations, disappointments. And the brokenness suppressed in my memory. The last layer, off. You saw through me. The anxiousness escalating slowly. The exposure feeling uneasy. I felt stripped, explored, unguarded. And in my nakedness - you had to choose: To love or to leave me, For who I really am.
0
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 2:49 AM UTC
Peeling Layers
Like an onion, I had layers. And you peeled me away, one at a time. One layer off. You saw my favorites. The food and drinks I crave for. The wall paint I wanted for my room. The perky dresses, nail polish, knee-high boots. And the spot I always prefer to be- on the front seat. One layer off. You saw my hobbies. The words I stitched together. The stars that formed our zodiac sign. The wallclimbing, badminton, volleyball. And the guitar strings that strum our lullaby. One layer off. You saw my dreams. The plane ticket to Paris. The thrill of a bungee jump. The candlelit dinner, fireworks, dancing fountain. And the license as a medical physician. One layer off. You saw my strengths. The smile behind the false judgements. The tears I fought back with pride. The temperance, confidence, adjustments. And the self-love I have strongly magnified. One layer off. You saw my insecurities. The missing dimple on my left cheek. The pimples on my forehead. The bitchface, fierce stare, strict walk. And this prominently thin-but-tall body figure. One layer off. You saw my regrets. The kisses I could have refused. The friends I thought were true. The false assumptions, unmet expectations. And the trust I gave to the wrong person. One layer off. You saw my secrets. The punches I had to take. The bruises I covered with my sleeves. The lies, frustrations, disappointments. And the brokenness suppressed in my memory. The last layer, off. You saw through me. The anxiousness escalating slowly. The exposure feeling uneasy. I felt stripped, explored, unguarded. And in my nakedness - you had to choose: To love or to leave me, For who I really am.
Continue reading...
52
The worst part is I loved you back Adulterous affair, Absolutely abominable! Maybe you didn’t mean to love Me, the girl inside the young woman’s body, you only thought you knew Flirtatious banter once hinted at thoughts
 Unsayable; Intelligible abyss once linked unsuspecting minds; Understanding so Deep, so Accidental. Praise me, praise me. Be careful, Time is taking over, How could you, you fool You can't beat the clock! You're in love now. Did you intend for this? But was it Me you sought to love? Or was it just my body? The thrill of the ilicit, The power Over a child? Origins unknown 
Grown out of your control. Say goodbye to reason I’m your master now. What’s happening to you? You’re afraid and I, well I am the child who will destroy you Words, your last weapon Escalating, no wait, stop You’re killing yourself. It's too late I tried to warn you You failed me, embarrassed Me. I egged you on. I loved you back. I’m sorry. #MeToo
0
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 11:55 PM UTC
Teacher
Alexander of Macedonia this time won’t U-turn from the might Gangaridai. At the bubbling edge in the Indian subcontinent, one would dare, taking his last plunge, believing it here the proverbial Well of Life! Yet Al Khwarizmi will discover the algebra, drawing from ‘nothing,’ purely untouchable: The Zero from the Indian pole. Not a digit, not a number on its own, yet it’s all. Every number jumps up in the zero loophole! Then the whole number bows down into decimals, escalating the hunts of the 1.618 golden ratios. Plough through at your own pace for the uncharted water, for ab-e-hayath. Sip in a drop of elixir in this secured zone. Sylhet is in the core, is written in stone. What do these mean? I too wonder down the line, I was intrigued by the Arab and Indian tectonic plates’ slow dance. Both rolled out, hugging each other Then the Makkan soil lying at the heart of earth gets exposed, with Sylhet’s soil it pairs up! 360 Sufi dynamos, mathematically a perfect circle, find the match giving a perfect heads up laid on the nine yard show the whole box of wax, simply inking the vivo jump on the storylines. What’s under the tectonic-rug at the bottom of the earth? Shush softly, whisper—the heavens might hear it out! Hold on to the least bit, it could be all one wants. The earth, the ocean, all started with a drop of water! Let alone any well, which way did this original matter, the first, primeval drop of water stream down Has this alleyway been exposed here, or in Paradise? Then how can we say we don't have a secret for Paradise?
0
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 11:26 AM UTC
Alexander the Great own't U-turn
Alexander of Macedonia this time won’t U-turn from the might Gangaridai. At the bubbling edge in the Indian subcontinent, one would dare, taking his last plunge, believing it here the proverbial Well of Life! Yet Al Khwarizmi will discover the algebra, drawing from ‘nothing,’ purely untouchable: The Zero from the Indian pole. Not a digit, not a number on its own, yet it’s all. Every number jumps up in the zero loophole! Then the whole number bows down into decimals, escalating the hunts of the 1.618 golden ratios. Plough through at your own pace for the uncharted water, for ab-e-hayath. Sip in a drop of elixir in this secured zone. Sylhet is in the core, is written in stone. What do these mean? I too wonder down the line, I was intrigued by the Arab and Indian tectonic plates’ slow dance. Both rolled out, hugging each other Then the Makkan soil lying at the heart of earth gets exposed, with Sylhet’s soil it pairs up! 360 Sufi dynamos, mathematically a perfect circle, find the match giving a perfect heads up laid on the nine yard show the whole box of wax, simply inking the vivo jump on the storylines. What’s under the tectonic-rug at the bottom of the earth? Shush softly, whisper—the heavens might hear it out! Hold on to the least bit, it could be all one wants. The earth, the ocean, all started with a drop of water! Let alone any well, which way did this original matter, the first, primeval drop of water stream down Has this alleyway been exposed here, or in Paradise? Then how can we say we don't have a secret for Paradise?
Continue reading...
34
The immense striking letters of the gazette’s front page make me almost cross-eyed My mind is going to explode in the images I have seen in the television Boom! When will the politicians be weary in stealing the wealth of the country? Millions of pesos were caught in the centre of the golden sea Can we only find it from other countries? Is that the main reason why Filipinos are migrating: to find source of much bigger income? I am thinking about them together with their bosses with heavy iron hands I believe crime rate is escalating... ...the crime that can grab you 24 hours a day Can we still smell the tainted odor of pictures of the street children... children who beg for a piece of bread? Mr. President, where is the promised straight road you are pointing at? Why can’t we see it? Is it crooked? Why is it that these are the ONLY stuffing of rumors? Why can’t we focus onto a bigger and wider problem of our country and even around the world? Perhaps above all issues, this is the only concern that is not yet trending in Twitter So, I just boasted it to my open-mouthed puppy... “If I will be the President of the Philippines, I will focus first on ENVIRONMENTAL ISSUES.” Suddenly, Bruno’s saliva dripped.
0
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 3:52 AM UTC
If I will be the President...
I'm the villain, but how was I supposed to know he had a wife and two children. Twenty-three years of marriage and she contemplates her happily ever after coming to an end……after a miscarriage, another child's death, 23 anniversaries, and 23 year old twins. My sugar daddy lead a double life, but how, how, how……was I supposed to know that he had a wife? It should've registered to me how he always wanted to skip out of town, but how could he lie to his goddess and not see her standing before him in her wedding gown. She hates me……She hates me and I don't blame her, if she decides to **** me and him both, I hope they don't tame her. When this woman walked in with her husband's **** inside of me I felt a rush of excitement, rode him harder and looked her in the eyes as I did it……painful mistakes you make when you're *** addicted. They'll think about how Dad's fake girlfriend is younger than them, but they won't understand, she'll wonder why he stepped out on her with a stripper young enough to be their resting daughter………as she thinks of a backup plan. I know this is wrong, but I might be in love, and this is strong. There's black and there's white, and grey will never be right. But this grey is my sin escalating to a whole new level, I can't leave this man alone………for I am his cruel devil.
0
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 7:24 PM UTC
Cruella DeVille
How intimate this is to bath with another the wetness of me surrounding you with the wetness from the shower head I brought you up as you lifted me out wanting this upon the floor I whispered no with my fingers down your back and you leaned me against the wall The glass in the room seemed to echo my moans the acoustics so gentle as our bodies beated out the rhythm of an escalating in and out We were building up a sweat from the steam and our heat and in heat we were for I came as you were in me and you kissed me then My fingers through your hair and my walls vibrated as you came into me hard and spent I felt it all in me How intimate this is
0
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 2:43 AM UTC
Let's Have *** in the Bath
Laying naked in my bed, I’m thinking about you And all the raunchy things we do Hot sweaty skin moves rhythmically against the satin Craving one another’s touch So overwhelming it can sometimes be too much Beginning with a tender stroke, Escalating to a choke Still full of heat and untamed desire I yearn for you to take me higher Away from my reality to a place of instinctual bliss Where nothing is more satisfying then your ardent kiss
0
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 7:11 AM UTC
Take me higher
It’s like spreading your arms in hopes of flight – Catching the wind and holding it just right… Every subtle gust grasping your body like a sail, Winning the battle against gravity without fail, Fighting through the impossibilities, the improbable, And entering the realm of weightless freedom - unstoppable… Soaring above the clouds of an orange sky, On passed the day and into the night we fly – From here to the moon and beyond the stars, Floating through the cosmos - leaving the world afar… Gliding passed this adventure like an epic dream, Not bound to conventional rationality, or so it may seem… We find each other dancing amongst the clouds, Circumnavigating the universe like gods, reckless and proud – Revelations of astronomic proportions are manifested… Escalating our feelings, as we now become more invested, An Armageddon of emotion, epically destroying the world; vying, For your love – for my Darling, your love? Well, it’s like flying.
0
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 10:43 PM UTC
It's Like Flying
There was a time when music meant more than the heartbeat in my chest Through its veins flowed notes of great inspiration The heart raced to the rhythms , escalating elations The spirit soared in explosions of glory and verbal fireworks awed The vibrations tingled the chill of skin Who would have believed it could feel so great within That was this , that was then
0
Oct 28, 2022
Oct 28, 2022 at 3:07 PM UTC
When Music Mattered
love between poets: “who will be between the sheets next week when I’m gone,” she lets sigh-escape, as she watches the backyard paradise parading landscape of animals before the bay, perfect day sure to come, her new pets obeying the early morn sunrising awakening call to rise, everyone playing~parading, before her royal summons, no coincidence, finger-of-god, two by two this while I’m kissing her neck, my arm around her ******* and the he-intent on slip sliding down to the small of her back, obeying his innate, worship worshiping and giving up, all he’s got intense intently contentedly unfazed, unphased, non-nonplussed, he’s been interrogated before, heart is pure he answers: next weekend when you are back in situ, thousands of miles away, airplane housed for hours, writing poems of love from the lost and found, recalling this exact moment, how I worshipped your presence, and these words: You will be with me in every breath, our sheets will radioactively emit ions and molecules of our scent combined, and present as present  your perfume can be, elicited, elixir, you and me combinant she turns from the bay-view, the animals who now mutually worship her adoration, watching, focused on us as observers, she lifts me up and smiles, replying* “oh my lover you’re the cad of cads, king of the baddest poet-lads, the gist of what is wrong with the best of men, her, pressing me hard to her chestnut hair chest, she, falling down into my eyes take me back to bed, liar, let me add to my aroma, to ensue, to ensure you will miss the best love you had partly, insufficiently, and unhinged completely I’m your lassie, you my lad, my king of cads, my lover poet, thief of my poems and my secret speech spells, escalating senses of one’s imaginings”* and, along came the rest of what was freely given, for love between poets man and a woman, is a someone, somewhere, sometime summertime thing *I will still smell you in my heart, and send to you ballistic missives, words to explode your tear ducts when you rest in sheets that met me, when you’ll know me by my odors, cry out loud so that you’ll scare our animals, no matter how many tides wash away our residue, you will never unknow and be forever unprepared for my return,* even though we will be each, a thousand unwritten poems away...
0
Jul 13, 2019
Jul 13, 2019 at 11:07 AM UTC
love between poets: “who will be between the sheets next week
love between poets: “who will be between the sheets next week when I’m gone,” she lets sigh-escape, as she watches the backyard paradise parading landscape of animals before the bay, perfect day sure to come, her new pets obeying the early morn sunrising awakening call to rise, everyone playing~parading, before her royal summons, no coincidence, finger-of-god, two by two this while I’m kissing her neck, my arm around her ******* and the he-intent on slip sliding down to the small of her back, obeying his innate, worship worshiping and giving up, all he’s got intense intently contentedly unfazed, unphased, non-nonplussed, he’s been interrogated before, heart is pure he answers: next weekend when you are back in situ, thousands of miles away, airplane housed for hours, writing poems of love from the lost and found, recalling this exact moment, how I worshipped your presence, and these words: You will be with me in every breath, our sheets will radioactively emit ions and molecules of our scent combined, and present as present  your perfume can be, elicited, elixir, you and me combinant she turns from the bay-view, the animals who now mutually worship her adoration, watching, focused on us as observers, she lifts me up and smiles, replying* “oh my lover you’re the cad of cads, king of the baddest poet-lads, the gist of what is wrong with the best of men, her, pressing me hard to her chestnut hair chest, she, falling down into my eyes take me back to bed, liar, let me add to my aroma, to ensue, to ensure you will miss the best love you had partly, insufficiently, and unhinged completely I’m your lassie, you my lad, my king of cads, my lover poet, thief of my poems and my secret speech spells, escalating senses of one’s imaginings”* and, along came the rest of what was freely given, for love between poets man and a woman, is a someone, somewhere, sometime summertime thing *I will still smell you in my heart, and send to you ballistic missives, words to explode your tear ducts when you rest in sheets that met me, when you’ll know me by my odors, cry out loud so that you’ll scare our animals, no matter how many tides wash away our residue, you will never unknow and be forever unprepared for my return,* even though we will be each, a thousand unwritten poems away...
Continue reading...
69
Five-thirty AM. Hustle 'n bustle b e g i n s.... ........footfalls running  u p and  d o w n the  stairway ......stomping .......catching ..........fidgety elevator........ ...........voices ...r o a r i n g s h o u t i n g ...c u r s i n g .....f a l l i n g ......wavering ....an endless ........series of ..........sounds ..........scaring ......escalating scaring   even more.......then slowing down hushing.......... fading............. ....filling hours ....til footsteps ...............start ........returning. Night  comes, greeted, with Tchaikovsky's c o n c e r t o , bright  lamps, muted sounds  .......of spoons forks....knives against plates ...tingling dies giving  way to tea cups, wine ...........glasses. ........and when dinner's done. ::::::::::::::::::::::: when all are in, when  all have settled   down. :::::::::::::::::::::::: n o i s e s........ ....are no more, ~~~~~~~~~~ swallowed, by  the spreading ........Dark....... ::::::::::::::::::::::: Late nights..... .....p e a c e..... a  soft  silence wall lamps are mellow-lighted, ...some voices loud.....others vaguely heard, some....fading into..the..night. ::::::::::::::::::::::: ::::::::::::::::::::::: Shortly........... the rush shall re commence. Those   heavy, loud  footfalls will    a g a i n .......t e r r i f y the old  ones,  with  t h e i r ......fear of..... :t h u n d e r: Up.......down, down.......up, ........nonstop shaking........ floors........... ........ceilings down.......... ..........below. :::::::::::::::::::::: :::::::::::::::::::::: The HALLWAY ....is a straight Path, a  world, With  its   own Moments.....of b l u e..s k i e s .l i g h t n i n g. ..........and........ ...r o a r i n g... :t h u n d e r s: :::::::::::::::::::::::: Sally Copyright 2014 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
0
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
THE HALLWAY
Five-thirty AM. Hustle 'n bustle b e g i n s.... ........footfalls running  u p and  d o w n the  stairway ......stomping .......catching ..........fidgety elevator........ ...........voices ...r o a r i n g s h o u t i n g ...c u r s i n g .....f a l l i n g ......wavering ....an endless ........series of ..........sounds ..........scaring ......escalating scaring   even more.......then slowing down hushing.......... fading............. ....filling hours ....til footsteps ...............start ........returning. Night  comes, greeted, with Tchaikovsky's c o n c e r t o , bright  lamps, muted sounds  .......of spoons forks....knives against plates ...tingling dies giving  way to tea cups, wine ...........glasses. ........and when dinner's done. ::::::::::::::::::::::: when all are in, when  all have settled   down. :::::::::::::::::::::::: n o i s e s........ ....are no more, ~~~~~~~~~~ swallowed, by  the spreading ........Dark....... ::::::::::::::::::::::: Late nights..... .....p e a c e..... a  soft  silence wall lamps are mellow-lighted, ...some voices loud.....others vaguely heard, some....fading into..the..night. ::::::::::::::::::::::: ::::::::::::::::::::::: Shortly........... the rush shall re commence. Those   heavy, loud  footfalls will    a g a i n .......t e r r i f y the old  ones,  with  t h e i r ......fear of..... :t h u n d e r: Up.......down, down.......up, ........nonstop shaking........ floors........... ........ceilings down.......... ..........below. :::::::::::::::::::::: :::::::::::::::::::::: The HALLWAY ....is a straight Path, a  world, With  its   own Moments.....of b l u e..s k i e s .l i g h t n i n g. ..........and........ ...r o a r i n g... :t h u n d e r s: :::::::::::::::::::::::: Sally Copyright 2014 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Continue reading...
105
I long for the animal you hide Won't you come out to play? You won't know unless you've tried This space is safe, promise it's okay I am going to leave my mark One way or another Raw untamed fervid spark It is you I am going to smother Let the voracious hunger mount Escalating each minute Primal breathlessness paramount You are your own limit I'm not going to make love to you I utter rather sweetly Neither am I going to **** you But own you...... completely I want to tear you apart Don't make any sudden moves Pulsating beat of your heart Every inch of me approves I want to forget my own name While I'm busy moaning yours I promise to start quite tame Until you are out of your drawers My body I do herby bestow Let me show you how I whisper in your ear and let you know The time is Now
0
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 1:52 PM UTC
The Thought ******
In the wild confusion of my life, I saw your face A kind countenance making bright my days Through rugged tracks when I stumbled along I felt an unseen hand holding me strong When bewildered by the horrid scenes of death You assured that life extends beyond mortal breath When lost in the dank and dark alley of wickedness You diverted my steps into the well lit path of righteousness When I gloated over my own trivial accomplishments You reminded me of my littleness through mild chastisements When I lost myself in the grip of vanity You opened my inner eye to restore my sanity When tossed by the currents of fiery storms Lord! You made me seek the safety of your arms When drowning in the sea of escalating pain You sustained and strengthened me and kept me sane Many got wiped out from the face of the Earth Without seeing the New Year’s birth Thank you for allowing me to see this glorious dawn ‘Extend your hand’, I pray, for me to hold on! Make me feel, you are there in every rhythm of my life More when life becomes burdensome with problems rife Over the arid deserts and the stormy turbulent sea I pray to be by my side as an abiding presence, piloting me My Lord! Without you my life will be in peril Never let me fall into the snares of the devil Do not desert me, stay by my side now and ever Be my guiding light and sanctify my every endeavor!
0
Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 10:53 AM UTC
Be by My Side
Mint spreading in elegance. Some divine blanket of taste in the soft vert. What meadows of limestone growing tusks and a peppermint hair! Verdent tastes of beaming echoes, Bouncing off the walled caverns, Body and soul. Radiating vieled ripples. The mountain's roots in caverns carved, the speech of silent wind within, inscribed on the hollow shell of a white turtle from the deep lakes. Waves form energy suppressing noise, leaving keratin quiet. Coral growing body soul, maintaining vibrations of mossy touch and taste. Rhinestone tongue of night Diamond sky. A granite vineyard in the clouds, and pitch shaped into a tower, the glassy eyes of dawn and dusk. Vespertine. Translucent dreams. Bamboo chins translucence, Escalating moonstone shadows, fingers spread in wide stretch, ephemeral hollowness, of everlasting happy spices. Fingers locked in thin ligaments, stones nestled in the crabgrass burrow, moles' eggs in the nutmeg painting. Luscious browning melange. Quartz upon the wave-struck ridge. Puffs of gray magical, escaping cavern's entrance, filling the air with a fragrance uncompared and bringing to the stomach, a funny, fuzzy, filling feeling called munchies! Written by: Simon and Lotus
0
May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 4:09 PM UTC
Dancing Oaken Ivy
With much protest and annoyance Backed up to a marked wall Gauge joy with graphite lines Escalating in modest steps Time passing without haste Lines increase inch by inch And before you can grasp the moment Little joy grows up
0
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 11:01 PM UTC
Gauge Joy
My mind is slowly beginning to collapse As I go into a state of distress I enter my pensive zone Which is the only way I seem to clear my mind I hear your offensive tone of voice So I hinder your aggressive words That some how always gets to my brain And torments the remaining of my fragile ego You have jeopardized every piece of my heart But I let you do it just because I can't stand the perception Of you dismissing my existence We provoked each other into anger And it keeps escalating to something worse Our dissensions are unbearable So we need to replay our Sunrise of desired conceptions I escape my afflicted realm Where you once invaded my blurred memories Wishing you were in my presence I reminisced on some of our happy hours Thinking it would return Not noticing the trickles of water Concealing my vision
0
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 4:43 PM UTC
Reminiscing
a carnival of hords in withering grass the high priestess tongues the beast wet mandible on a dragging death gowned doll like a cyclone coils paradise trans mutative prismatic unfurling's passed bones of confusion passed scorched refuse of radiating spiraled phantoms the more gods, the more demons battle angel symmetries in Taoist jaws     galactic lurking's into parametric infinities escalating war like cloud light rush glittering arms of affliction exhalations like upleaping sail fish drizzle sooty rain shellacking tinsel rhinos on hieroglyphs of the barbarous a transfixed guttural prana; apostasy between advances and retreats in chimeras earth quake palace   death: a new begining.
0
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 7:51 AM UTC
The Beast
the tears won't stop forming my heart won't stop hurting I'm loosing my mind because I'm loosing you. my flesh my blood my sister. ****** is the kidnapper, it took the shine out of her eyes and made her feel "better". it handed her a needle and spoon and told her 'I am what you need' is love not enough to stop the pain from escalating? were my tears false evidence that I actual care? this drug took away my blood my flesh my sister. this drug ripped apart our family our flesh our Jessica. and now all we are left with are our grieving souls wishing to give her a second chance at life.
0
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
Jessica
It must be the silence. riddles on the other line- rise of breath, slow muted sighs raw red ripples what are your rhythms to me I whispered for bravery into swollen knots of a weeping willow sweeping scarred strength rough on my pulse revealing to the roots my daily face to face with not knowing and the belief that I can wait as a coo soothes a napping field rocking, deep in care free slumber-   I feel you too will someday brush across my cheek, careful sending troubles with a hush quiet as the day shy's it's gaze to the night There will always be a pause escalating expectations, suspended seconds when the door heaves closed and I'm tugged into innocence clutching the air for a blankie, holding close the possibility everything will be alright I keep a wilting daisy on the floor beside my bed dampened by the shadows, colored by my eyes it will dry completely, defeated on the carpet yet there will be more and I will always fill the vase with water
0
Jun 27, 2012
Jun 27, 2012 at 12:34 AM UTC
something about a hunch
If only we could start off with some horrific argument, the emotion subsiding. We would curse less and less. Words would fall back into our mouths. Nothing to be forgiven or forgotten because it never quite happen. We would hold each other comforting hurts that would always undo themselves. Each kiss would make us a little more giddy and every day you really would look a little more pretty. The way we touch would be a sort of un-touching that would redefine anticipation Every ****** intensifying, escalating into that first feel, first taste, first breath of breathing and then finally we would walk backwards, away from us, it would feel like we were approaching something though, like we might care for one another one day. We would go away dreaming the parts we hadn’t quite discovered before losing sight of one another without any of the hurt or remorse. We would still be perfect somehow. Loving in reverse instead of backwards. Michael L Sutter
0
Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 8:46 PM UTC
Undo Love
#***they hide their sadness differently each filling their emptiness with never ending waves of poor choices and escalating consequences he will never find relief in memories of better times of kind words of moments shared under the moon on a hill where time and again they danced in and out of each other she will never find relief in a bottle or a twisted piece of cellophane chasing the ghost of better times of kind words of moments shared when their souls and bodies were bare and there were no conceits or pretensions or sarcasms of a time when they were the world and the world was them so they continue to chase their relief in the wrong directions when they both know that the solution is asking to be found So instead they'll forever carve each other's names into their very last bare inch of bone***#
0
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 11:11 AM UTC
Their Understanding of Sadness
A rampaging torment flows with every passing wave, escalating regression and stockpiling the rage. Clarity, now a fading memory wilting in the shadows of a cave. The price of congenial lunacy, satisfactory for those who enslave.
0
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
The Culprit