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Black surges, forges piling emotion,
Foraging, attaining such predicted erosion.
Color the rubies to a diluted amber,
Brittle, dripped gems are toxic, I clamber
To the lamp as to see my implicit devotion.

Vitals ascend, and I can't perceive
This motionless forfeit I often receive.
Aid is essential, it holds potential,
To cure this conflicted, addicted vessel.
My heart on my sleeve, I'm undeceived.

I implore to explore, as breath, I leave,
So close to dying, I'm on the eve
Of darker clothing, and flowers to family,
Hallucinate my abnormalities.
Yet somehow, I am still on my feet-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated.
Jolan Lade Feb 17
I've found you, runnning everywhere
in my bloodstream
I've found you, to be the power source
for my heartbeat
I've found you, to be the essential part
in a perfect dream
#notes#
Yes I do feel very attracted to her
I must admit
Heavy Hearted Jun 2018
The river winds in from distant lands
With mercyless power it turns stone to sand
Through its mysterious life, the very earth it commands
And Yet the fearful river still runs through our hands.
In torrents of furry where the deepest currents flow
The rivers wild waters surge with woe. For
Onward, forever, its destined to go
A permenant home it won't ever know.

The river runs from each of us
As a refugee of fear,
It knows in a blink it will be somewhere else
Its waves are really its tears.
It runs from the audacity  
Of the selfish human mind
As Its massive life capacity,
Of flora and fauna combined,
Are threatened by our antics and helpless to our crime
So the river runs on their behalf, from everyone, in time-


even within its whitecap foam
Water's yearning for a home

So roam does the water- endlessly,
till its long gone out of sight
The essential droplets of the river-
Nomads day and night.
CK Baker Jan 2017
leg on the table
you red face recruit!
put on the offensive
and break down
the bolted door
you are the soul saver
the peddle maker
the calibrator
with colored handbills
and front line
rhetoric

join the masquerade
in ivy league style!
politicking with
cunning guile
invisalign smile
blackened vile
bleeding the funnel
with gold plate omegas
and crocodile shoes

get on stage
and dance you fool!
you are the headline maker
the pantomime juggler
the compromised closer
pull out that 5 page review
(bullet points only please)
and polish those weathered lines

did you give it your all?
the door tags
and pleasantries
the tidings
and clippings
the irrevocable claims
and postured blames
all the impressionable basics
put to the test?

you know the call
(straight from
those cold academics)
the pie chart gurus
and contract killers
(complete with bone in finger)
whipping their
frenzied crew
in an all night
charade

old yellar
and the gatekeeper
sure seem amused
(sharpening their inquest
behind closed doors)
firing up the **** storm
with hostile ******
and a slew
of insatiable
cures

there’s laughter from the back room
the dripping nose
and wavering hand
the cut white lines
and checkpoint tales
the pipeline romance
and lacking form
(of a basic essential
character!)

soundboard
and narratives
for logging time
slouching on the
steel case
over moot points
ready to play
the 3 weight
butter card
(if need be)

might I remind you
it’s only an inquiry
(with a slight hint of concern)
surely no
malfeasance
or deception intended
so step back from
the melt down
and cut to the chase!

headlines to breadlines
penthouse to outhouse
those immoral pursuits
have taken their toll
(haven’t they?)
madman or rogue
(you take your pick)
for the scores
and tabulations
are final

shame on you
for the foul play
the bold hypocrisy
and order desk games
the back stabbing blames
and spurious names
just sign on the dotted line...
this banter
is killing me
THE ESSENTIAL INGREDIENT

"Oh love is teasing
and love is pleasing. . ."

my sister sings to the cake
she is about to bake.

"And love is a pleasure
when first it's new. . ."

The rich Christmas mix
listens with all of its ingredients.

"Ahhhh but as love gets older
sure love gets colder. . ."

the brandy & fruit
weep into the bowl

"...and fades away like
the morning dew."

There is a lot of brandy in the mix.
There is a lot of brandy in sis.

Sad Irish folk songs
appear to be

the essential ingredient.

A pink and green balloon
clings to the ceiling

refusing to come down
by poker or by broom.

Takes refuge in the corner
just above the Christmas star.

My heart is breaking
with baking.

"I know my love
by his way of talking..."

flour in her hair
making her so ghostly

as if the original protagonist
came back from the grave

and sang her heart out

". ..and I know my love
by his eyes so blue..."

until the creambuttersugar
is all fluffy.

He voice adding a zing
of lemon peel.

At this stage
the eggs are beaten

". . .and if my love leaves me
what will I do?"

Slowly slowly whipped
to form peaks.

Now the cake is tipsy.
So - is sis.

I am drunk
on her singing.

My mind is in mourning
for all the love loved

and lost.

She daubs my nose and laughs.
I lick it off.

The tip of my tongue
a windscreen wiper!

And so the brandy fruit mixture
is folded in.

I can still taste
her singing.

Her cake the only cake
I could ever ate and oh

her almond icing!

These songs forever
her.

And still she sings
down all the years

and I love her versions
the best!

"...and a troubled mind sure
can know no rest

and still she cries bonny boys are few

and if my love leaves me
what will I do!"
***

Ahhh it's such an elemental memory for me...I can at a second's notice step back into it in an instant. I'd bawl my eyes out....the words....the melody....everything was real to me.

Couldn't possibly forget these songs and the singer...they stained my soul. She used to sing them very quietly and so soft and tender....even today they haven't been surpassed...they used to **** me. And when she got to the bit where "...he takes a strange ******* his knee and he tells her things that he once told me..." it was all much too much! I thought they were exquisite!

Her voice and that moment tied to her apron strings lives forever in my mind. It is a little jewel of time that has never diminished ever. I was too young to understand the brandy factor and could never understand how other people's cake and almond icing just couldn't get next or near to my sister's!
will19008 Jul 1
you exist as my essential delight
our desires felt according your instinct
already just inside

every favorite imprisoned minute
became free momentous lost hours alone
within our moans

our bodies exchanging naked positions
what speed! you, freely obey my coming
that pleasurable feel

awakened bodies, insomniac, seize dawn
together, seduction deep in the long morning
our duvets intertwining
in sweaty satisfaction
Paul Hansford Dec 2016
If I could be a super-hero,
I would be your Bee-Man.

I would fly over continents and oceans,
over forests and gardens,
until I found you,
my Rose Queen.
My super-powers would detect
your pink petals
from far off.
Down I would fly,
drawn to the exquisite beauty
silkily emerging from the heart of you,
your blushing petals
unfolding for me.

Gently but firmly
my long, loving tongue would press
between those dew-moistened folds,
unable to resist the perfume
overcoming me.

Tugged in
by your intoxicating scent,
your nectar I would sup
until I could drink no more.

Then, transforming
the sweet nectar
you had so willingly granted me
into my rich, creamy honey,
created especially for you,
I would penetrate
between your soft petals,
find your hidden depths,
and to repay you for the delight
your fragrant nectar had given me,
magically inject my honey into you,
to fertilise you again and again,
penetrating to the essential heart of you,
until my store was empty,
and we would both feel
the most exquisite joy of all.

I can only hope that you dream of it as I do,
that you wish it also,
and that some day our dreams can come together
as we would.
Brody Blue Aug 2017
Under the tree of the university
A shadow was gruesomely cast.
The branches made too much shade
And there grew no grass.
No one would lie under its wood
Down beside its trunk;
It wasn't essential, there was no potential,
Claimed the revered monk
But late at night you'll find him lying in the dirt
Wearing a Paisley Poplin Shirt

The click of the gears define his years,
A cycle on a chain
A cloud of sand thrown by his own hand
Hones forth his pain
He blows seeds of dandelion weeds
****** a ****** field
And he pretends that he intends
To reap this horrible yield
Because unintentionally he subconsciously convert
To one who wears a Paisley Poplin Shirt

Covered in rust, a blade he adjusts,
His mind remains unwrung
The words to speak were too **** bleak
So he cuts off his tongue
He'll be finished when he's diminished
These humanly sights
If there's no vision at the end of his mission
He'll gouge out his eyes
And Helen Keller takes one of her old ragged skirts
And fashions him a Paisley Poplin Shirt

Why must we be obsessed
With the unseen
When we know we cannot
Make something out of nothing
And to those of you who think that you cannot be hurt
Stones go thru a Paisley Poplin Shirt
Song Lyrics
EBTI Apr 2017
It hurts to see my pain in my eye
I just want to see the end when it ends
I want to see the cold rusty me
The dryness to be, the biggest part of me
The ego that ran; to be free
And the horrible pain in my chest
Has became essential
And even if i sing my poems
It will be crazy to believe me
So i say let's sing it together
Since I'm already crazy to think that this pain will ever go away
It's mixed up with my blood
So that leads to cutting my hand open and letting the pain be a blood bath
I wish I could be alive to see that
Full of satisfying emotion.
I couldn't get my hands off the screen till I finished it
Ben Jones Mar 2013
There's an item that's truly essential
Of a roughly cylindrical frame
It's a marvel of modern invention
And a legend it duly became
It surpasses the birth of electric
And eclipses the slicing of bread
If it wasn't for this innovation
Then I think I would surely be dead

Oh, Gaffer-tape, Gaffer-tape
Stick with me
Fix my wardrobe
Effortlessly
Hold up the curtains
Wax my thighs
Gaffer-tape Gaffer-tape
Improvise

It's useful for picking up hamsters
And it serves as a passable tie
As a gag for a amateur gangster
Or the crust of a blueberry pie
For a mite of podiatry pleasure
You can use it for mending your socks
If Pandora had come up against it
Then she'd never have opened her box

Oh, Gaffer-tape, Gaffer-tape
Holding fast
Adhesive savior
Unsurpassed
Smooth as mirror glass
Diamond tough
Gaffer-tape, Gaffer-tape
Marvelous stuff

It's bringing our nations together
And it's holding them firmly in place
You can use it to pull back your wrinkles
For a genuine Hollywood face
It'd surely have saved the Titanic
And they took seven rolls to the moon
Keep it near and be calm in a crisis
And predicaments inopportune

Oh, Gaffer-tape, Gaffer-tape
Mending sails
If you're tired
Of hammering nails
Buy some now
It's a thing to behold
Gaffer-tape, Gaffer-tape
Solid gold
Nat Lipstadt Feb 2014
The Sounding Foam of Primal Things

*(The title and the poem, taken from and inspired by
Carl Sandburg's "Who Am I?")


wind and rain pound the surf.
snow falls on the beach, on the shore.
man-observer cannot tell:
has the earth gone mad, all wet?
do the seas rise, whipped up, filling the heavens,
or does the white rain replenishes the very body,
from whence it came, and now returns?

this matters greatly, yet nothing answers this, his question.

the furious soundings, the green foam churn,
the silence of no response inebriates,
drunk on the tempest's hard wet liquor,
weighed down, sodden with the despair,
solitude, silence, absent answers,
his natural walking companions!

No Stopping signs on almost every corner,
Do Not Pass, Do Not Enter,
One Way, Two Way, No Thru Passage,
but the one sign he seeks,
"Stay On The Path" absent.

Eluded,
dispassionate endings,
the essential quietude among
furious surround-sounds of creative destruction
he ceases to ask, for unanswered, undirected.

Concluded,
either
their is no one listening, or,
there is no one caring, or,

Deluded,
illusion is truth,
he is an illusion.

------------------
Who Am I?
By Carl Sandburg

My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of
     universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I
     reach my hands and play with pebbles of
     destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs
     reading "Keep Off."

My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive
     in the universe.
Viridian Aug 2018
I like using fire as an analogy, a metaphor, the punchline for most of my poetry

I often describe the heart as if it were a hearth, while its beats were the heat it radiated

I see it—sometimes a roaring flame, often times a steady bonfire, other times a dying match.

It could scorch you if you aren't careful, but it also provides you warmth and light. A sort of clarity. Comfort.

It allows some of the toughest things on Earth to become malleable and mold itself into something new

It turns the bitter into sweet, the biting cold to teeth-sinking warm, the tasteless into delicious

It allows the spirit to soar with columns of smoke to the heavens while the body becomes fertilizer for daisies

It takes beauty, and burns it black and ash to the point of no recognition

Fire is so precious, and dangerous, and essential, and beautiful, and ****—just like this hearth of a heart

Tended and regulated well, it's the greatest discovery of mankind

Allowed to burn out quick, or spread out of control, then it's the accident that burned down London in 1666

I believe I should end this by saying: find someone who will tend to your hearth as if it were their last dying light, instead of a person who would simply roast marshmallows with forest fires
is this the part where i say that i'm a bit burnt out?
Keith W Fletcher Aug 2018
This adventure we're on
through this space we Transit
where compassion seems
to be all shadow
And sadly non-essential
to this Garden of Life
we are growing
that is Bane of music
or sunshine
a treeless desert
Of lost hopes
or even any
realistic design
for any future
we would want
we will need
were hoped for
Nature has been threatened
by the whims of those men
who have no notion
of what will happen
if they allow the oceans
to rise up and dog our steps
into a future
into a world
that we will never  again
recognize
arubybluebird Mar 13
The world is emptier without you
Like something essential to living is missing
Like bread, like air, like water, like music
Like warmth, like moonlight, like wine for weekends
Like leaves on trees to keep track of seasons
Like old photographs that remind you of a once was
Of distant lovers, of faces that feel like home
Like poems, like fables, like folk tales, like movies
Like something composed of many things
That feels like everything is missing
And what's missing is you
Patrick Austin Oct 2018
Please take a quick a moment to write a review.
If you were not satisfied, what could I do?
Customer care is always my goal,
to all future guests who visit my soul.
Closure’s essential to us moving on,
It matters to me why now you are gone.
Fearful my future will repeat mistakes,
I need to know first I might have what it takes.
Did I love too strongly at first when we met,
then settle for stable as needs being met?
Was it the fact that we need to work harder?
disappointments too much for you, so why bother?
With your help, my program can surely improve,
for now I am ready to make my next move.
Patrons of my heart may have different needs,
beyond conversation and sowing of seeds.
They may not discover the flaws that you see,
because they love past them, unlike you, with me.
Having a long term relationship end suddenly with no explanation is devastating. Please consider talking about things face to face and explaining your actions, choices and feelings. Anyone who does less, is not worthy of being in relationships. Wouldn't it be nice if people had reviews on Yelp after dates and relationships. I think better behavior when dating could result from this. What do you think?
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
You can feel it spinning
                                         fast
the Chinese, Japanese, American and European junk
orbiting at several thousand miles per hour could
                                                           ­                             punch
a hole in your armor, future. Thanksgiving passes, then Christmas.
A nuclear detonation, we absorb that fact. The scientist in us
delays sadness by recording observations. What is is,
sorrow's for tomorrow.

By reducing probabilities to near zero I hope to avoid sorrow.
In yr suburb.
In history when there were many fewer people we still found reason
to cross space, explore, trade and war. Now
                                                             ­                 overpopulation
may not be the problem but food and water shortages
get our attention.
                              I have Korf's fears.
And hear what I want to hear.

Some hear singing, some hear speeches or complaining.
Martin Luther King sang his complaints, dreamed of a brotherly nation
which came to pass, spinning fast, past Thanksgivings, past jailings
into reconnaissance, small wars, drones, renaissance, inventions.
At the border,
                         where the Juaristas fought Maximilian:
Benito Juarez (1806-1872) Zapotec Amerindian who served five terms as president of Mexico. He was the first Mexican leader who did not have a military background and also the first full-blooded indigenous person to lead a country in the western hemisphere in over 300 years. For resisting French occupation, overthrowing the Empire, and restoring the Republic, Juarez is regarded as Mexicoxs greatest and most beloved leader. 

Each soldier chooses what war at what border, or just
                                                            ­                                   shows up
spinning with the planet.
The neighborhood and surrounding nature is orderly.
But always there is implied force, violence holding it together,
                                                       ­                                                       chaos
is contained
kept out of the playground, government buildings, childrenxs games
but lies within
the force maintaining order, a spinning tumor, a gyroscope of
                                                              ­                                                inertia.
The force of the spinning, the speed of the force bring one to one's
      death
seasons, weather, earth.
                                         While the emperor's being beheaded
enduring seeds are discovered and invented, cross-fertilized and bred.
Corn, yams, potatoes, sunflowers, rice.
                                                           ­       Food is life and a good study,
useful discipline
                           daily meditation.
                                                     ­   The fighting man protects the farmer
and the farmer feeds the fighting man.
They elect the governor
                                        who serves the people. Peace out.

Peace and war are transitory manifestations of spinning
electrons, planets.
                               The sun's a nuclear detonation, essential
to spring and planting. Food is life. Seeds endure
if man goes to his daily discipline. If woman is man.
Birth and death
                           together are orderly, the border can be known,
voluntarily. How we live together, by prayer or force,
is our story.

Knowledge
from laboratory to starry corridor keeps us very
                                                            ­                         versed.
Did Juaristas consider the rights of animals not to be eaten?
Not during that spinning.
                                              And perform the history that surrounds us.
All that can be done
is written in the spinning:
"The people of the land, the Indian farmers of North America - like their counterparts in Mesoamerica, the Andean region, and the Amazon - have continuously cultivated maize, beans, squash and other crops for more than five thousand years. One of the salient features of their traditional farming systems is the high degree of biodiversity. These traditional farming systems have emerged over centuries of cultural and biological evolution, and they represent the accumulated experience of indigenous farmers interacting with the environment without access to external inputs, capital or scientific knowledge. In Latin America alone, more than 2.5 million hectares under traditional agriculture in the form of raised fields, polycultures, agroforestry systems and the like document indigenous farmers' successful adaptations to difficult environments."
--Wikipedia,  "Benito Juarez"
-- Altieri , Miguel A., Foreword to Enduring Seeds: Native American Agriculture and Wild Plant Conservation, by Gary Paul Nabhan, The University of Arizona Press, 1989

www.ronnowpoetry.com
Sebastian Macias Oct 2018
There is evil after each word
Time has lost all value
And Monday's aren't so bad
Funny to think about it
As life has gone, chapters closed
One begins to imagine something
A place that was never told
The hidden face of this world
Simply put, reality - the truths
Not the visual reality of daily life
But the one inside your mind
A reality that is essential
Here we begin to understand that
What makes us so powerful,
Also has the power to weaken us
What we crave like children
Most often surely destroys us
Another day on a calendar
One last chance for good bye
And you begin all over again
Heavy Hearted Oct 2018
Sometimes, I write to understand.
And sometimes to explain
But now, the words begin to land
In a distinctive little game

I'll admit this one I do not need-
Its not essential like the rest,
But for my ego it does feed
A serenity contest.

For all I want is to be known
For all my sanctioned skills
You see this ryhme which I now own? Does it make you ill?
To think in this confession
That the power of my word
is no more than an obsession?
One that I've detered.

For followers is what I need!
Its all im really here for.
And to admit this **** greed
Makes me crave it even more.
Nassif Younes Apr 2016
Your swagger is an essential component
Of the planet's orbit.
You're as cool as a cucumber
In a freezer
On Triton.
You're so hot
That global warming
Is all your fault.

All hail the loudhailer.
Hail to his handshake that shakes you inside,
Hail to his exchange of pleasantries,
Always unfair in your favour.

All hail the loudhailer,
Inhale the love of the loudhailer
Inhale his wisdom
That shines when you listen
Or his naievety that shows
When you listen carefully,

Or his carefree philosphy
That's lost on the logical
And wasted on those
Not equally wasted,

Or his misery which hides
On the unseen side
Of his lifelong dichotomy,

Or his snap inside
And snap request
For help
From those he told to see misery
As one's own unnecessary
Attachement to quote, unquote
The negative energy.


You're hot stuff now
And one day you'll burn
But we, at least, have learned
Not to mourn
But to sit back
Before the flames
And enjoy the bright side.
KnudsonK Aug 2013
My big brother, big sister and I .
Fourteen ,ten and I was nine,
Cried more  tears then we ever cried.
Our mother had committed suicide.We'd already been through  qiute a bit. We were babtized that lifes one thing you  just cant quit.Our Mom committed the biggest sin.I refused to imagine which place she  was in.It was the one thing I couldnt bare.   I d  seen alot more evil then Id ever  seen of good\ We found our selves there questioning  God.My brother  bent his brow and gave a  nod. He thought a careful moment  and scratched his  head.He  then leaned in close and this is what he said, "For right now how about looking at ot like this Instead..?
You  don't have to wait till your
darkest hour. To admit to yourself
you believe in a higher power.
It's like telling white lies ,everyone
knows  we all  do it. And you know
they do it too.Don't believe me?
I can proove it to you. Proove me wrong,
I dare you to. Take this dare.  
Bowed in prayer,Be thankful for  care.
Greatful hearts for all our mercies and despair.
Be Blessed, us all,your  with the gifts we recieve.
Wealth of knowledge from lessons
in the burdens that we bare.
Our faith mirrors our existance.
A life worth living.Sharing and giving,
helping hand one good deed,
without expectation.With out even a whisper
of taking credit.An angel to guard
inpure thoughts,another for my words.
Together  both in charge of my deeds.
Provide for my essential needs.
So that I don't mistake them for my wants.
The regret that haunts.Gifts of good fortune
one never flaunts.When
we fail to fullfill.No weapon or pill
upon my own self be done.
Judging no one.
gossiping upon no one. Do not listen
nor tell Any one.No false pride
Or mask to hide.Beauty comes from
whats inside. Swallow your pride
I am forgivin. I will forgive,
because we are human. Because
we live. Give what you can give.
.No less,When the cuphas been filled
it can hold no more.We've done our best.
When in error just confess.
No man alive.Him nor I ,
has the right to choose
how either of us die. Do not lie.
When I look at him and he looks at me,
We are not consumed with greed or envy.
I refuse to be his enemy,the way  that satan
would like it to be, I have no hate in me.
Music and love, respect and honesty,
Wheather or not anyone else can see.Patience
understanding and an opened mind.And being
somebody  to believe. Being someone
whose kind.Being somebody
that somebody can trust. Be fair and be just.
Be very wary of whomever you lust.
Look down on no one unless your
helping them stand, if put in power
don't be grand.Don't let that power go to your head
Keep it in your heart instead.And every night
when you go to bed.Bow your head  and pray.
I promise if you live this way. And say this poem
every day. Unhappiness will stay away.You
will not be afraid.You  will not want for anything.
You'll be pleasantly  surprised at what each day will bring.
And everyone around you will see it too.
You will be sufficiantly sufficed. It's not  a  religion
It's called living life. It's that feeling you feel
right now inside. It  won't be denied.
It's believing in my believing in you,
It's me believing you two feel that too.
You can call it God...
You can call it whatever you to.
Call it love.It's in each of us.
This power thats greater and higher above.
But its not about religion  or going along
You know the difference betwren right and wrong .Your hard enough on yourself when the heat is on.And most imortant of anything at all if you absolutely HAVE to lie....
......look them in the brows....not in the eyes.
Amen.
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