"expends" poems
He who expends his days a wanderer,
Is not aware of his gift,
Though he may hunger,
and steal into the wicked alleys
where the spirits of evil men dwell,
He lives and sees the world in a view,
one that is unimaginable,
as he sings lowly as he walks through the end of night,
He has no possessions that are worth possessing,
Such that another wanderer may wish for his own,
None except his life,
One of seeing the world from the outside,
As he is starving from within.
I gave him some money, and offered him my seat.
And society's eye upon me
as if I am naive,
but I wish them to hold their assumptions,
for I believed this man, even his lies.
I could sense his sincerity,
as distinguished from the typical
**** beggars that would scold
anyone's failure of compliance.
And though he solicited me until the last moment,
I knew that my advice may settle in,
and for he to use his supreme vantage point
of a Sufferer of the City, one without another,
I asked this man, who convinced me of his
desire to be a writer, to document his days.
And to educate himself, this 30-year-old, black, amputee,
Torn between drugs and gangs, and a better life
that is unattainable.
I asked him to be infallible in his refusal of
Those evils which will deteriorate his soul,
For its royalty will be paralleled not to material wealth,
but to any base behavior, or noble virtue.
and if he stutters in his gait, to channel such self destruction into
a productive means to write about his sufferings.
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 10:24 PM UTC
1301
I cannot want it more—
I cannot want it less—
My Human Nature’s fullest force
Expends itself on this.
And yet it nothing is
To him who easy owns—
Is Worth itself or Distance
He fathoms who obtains.
1.6k
"Good morning," says the gloomy day,
As colored thoughts come into play.
To loiter in the tricky mind,
Wet caves of light one surely finds.
One expends the nights only to
Restore good feelings which seem true.
In search of light, one tries to bore
Himself to drill through inner core.
The heart longs for tranquility
The head befriends disparity,
The eyes grow big like that of owl's
The words expelled so very foul.
While truth presents with benefit,
The wick of doubt is quickly lit.
However strong one fixed the bind,
The power lies with colored mind.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 6:56 AM UTC
I hold fury in every space between my ribs
and in every hollow of every bone
Never before had I felt the strain and stress, the heart palpitations that result from the loathing abhorrence and simple seething self hatred that come from loving more than I am loved
Proper Nutrition holds that
the body must take in enough to replenish what it expends and still be left with a small surplus.
My body is undernourished.
My ribs are bare.
They feel the cold, though they've no nerves.
I feel the cold.
I am by no means insatiable.
But I must take in more than just the crumbs that would feed
a bird.
Feed me. Feed me. Replenish me.
Cover my bare bleeding ribs with your warm hands
Collect each drop of blood as it runs off
Bleed yourself and put the marrow back into the hollow of my bones.
I lay belly up now. But I am a hell hath no fury Hades Hound
And I will not hesitate to bare teeth and rip flesh from bone.
(The starving will feed)
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 12:40 PM UTC
Silence expends all possible thought of nameless emotion
Nighttime of soundless expression
Driftwood on beaches of shaded joy
Rocky outcrop escapes
Rivulet beauty we don’t see
Rock skip hip hop euphoria
Asunder Sauntering
When Eventually Someday Comes
The snow outside
My sparkling paradise
Evanescent dreams
When snowmen melt
And angels disappear
Spring blooms sunshine daisies
Let’s go smell the roses
Sit down and see-saw the morning glories arise
Summer blows in on the breeze
Running for your heart
I have green grass melancholy
Erring rain emanations:
Like a candle in the wind.
Someday Eventually Will When Only Loosely
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 3:37 AM UTC
Lost to the in-mind,
Eyes almost teary with exhaustion as city exhaust expends my already weary body, (... mind... soul!...)
I walked into the washroom at Tilley's travel emporium (you know those hats you see on Steve Irwin? The stereotypically Australian saucers with a tilt like a collision? Tilley hats. They were invented by the creator of this store.)
and it smells like you.
all my weary head can imagine
is your
midnight mouse
of a snore
and
your
soft
lava-stone skin
the solar system of freckles on your shoulders
the stars of
birthmarks
on your
arm.
I say good night
as
Canada
tucks the 2 of us in
for the last time
until
April.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 12:20 AM UTC
An amber landscape expends across the rambling hills,
The Barren trees stretch desperately towards the sky,
As if the higher they climb,
The more they are engulfed by the overwhelming beauty.
The dying embers of the sun race to cover the land in honeyed hues,
Extending across the landscape in rays,
Slowly melting toward the horizon.
All colours become the spectrum of the sun.
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 12:59 PM UTC
The security of a nation
By armies, tanks, and guns
Expends a lot of energy
But protects our lands and funds
It’s cheaper to defend ourselves
With flowers in children’s hands
But it won’t be as effective
In defending our lives and lands
The cryptographic proof of work
Has served us well for years
It’s not the same as proof of stake
Which will end in regret and tears
True consensus takes some work
This is a feature, not a bug
Bitcoin was built with energy
Not with flowers - not with hugs
Flowers and hugs are mighty fine
But won’t make a network secure
It takes a lot of energy
To make the ledger safe and sure
Oct 9, 2022
Oct 9, 2022 at 10:40 AM UTC
Stalling,
Protracting
Procrastination
To its limits before
I put pen to the pages
Engage with the latest
Of sapien traits
To sate its **** Deus
Ex Machina milieu
Of acculturated
Anti-natalist ends
Without means or wherewithal
The journey expends
A final destination
Where it can reside
Free of incarcerations
I've sealed it inside
Thinking mine
Is a mind
Of exceptional kind
And I must keep it safe
From the dumb, deaf and blind
But I see what they see
What they hear
What they feel
When I make these
Insanity
Fantasies
Real
May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 5:36 PM UTC
We are that which hashes
her
That which expends her swirling muscled tones
That which chisel at
this four-by-four;
her cedar
a vessel desecrated.
We are terse,
we are pixels projecting this
dance—
Her steady plateau
Her watery eyes
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 9:51 PM UTC
Be at peace,
Creature of earth and oak
Your brittle, soft bark
Painted a deep crimson,
With limbs curling, retreating to their root.
And whose buds wither in the dry,
Desolate province: “home”.
Do you remember the monsters,
Trampling over vein and chute,
That grew larger with every word they spoke,
Till soon their dark shapes stood high above,
Their mass and form eclipsing the light,
Leaving only a sliver to feed you?
I remember a shape formed with care,
Whose trunk was strong,
And resilient as steel!
But, Chiseled and reduced
By philosophy and temptation,
It became a thing I couldn’t recognize.
A corpse that shone of good intention,
With marks of wisdom and ingenuity,
Abandoned, forgotten in time.
Do you remember the forest,
Where brother and sister once stood firmly?
Their unfortunate fortitude rendered them ideal
For the beasts’ machines,
And made kindling for the nightmares
You had when you were small.
I remember a young seedling,
Who sacrificed friendship and comfort
For a little shelter from the cold.
And now lives in darkness
And has been for so long,
That a candle is mistaken for the sun!
A faint, false, glow is all I have to illuminate my life!
With age, and of circumstance,
My eyes grow weak,
And this heart will expends its stores
To chase the promise of reprieve,
Offered by a lie of ever-changing form,
And striking, beautiful melody.
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
My thoughts
like the guts of a jellyfish
Swirl under a fragile sheath
that is my stare
From dormant tick
to fortified tock,
time has had its hands full with me
For silenced words only fester
within the absence of light
Soon I will take my wounds, my scars
and cast them out to be
To dance among the waves
of my tongue
and sting who they may
How I will embrace their sharp return...
To rip this placenta of pain
dawning a coma white
that expends yet again
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 1:06 PM UTC
#I see you staring off into space, your trajectory
aimed towards a specifically-patterned constellation.
I am only the launch tower--
providing stability, support
aiding in your refueling and the replenishment of your supplies.
Star-patterned destinations are your calling
and, I am just the launch pad,
and its ever accommodating tower.
They say that a rocket expends fifty
percent of its energy just clearing the tower;
*It is the final destination:
not the clearing of the tower,
that your heart needs most*
and holding you firm, I know that as you lift off
I will even now be tempted to
reach out with one of my ever-sustaining arms..
that I may touch your gorgeous tail section
as you fly clear of me
But even in the doing of that,
I would change your trajectory
and the constellations would never come to know you
nor you, them
I am just a tower, love..
a platform, constructed solely
to aid you in your newfound flight into freedom:
a tower to love you
and hold you steady,
with a finely-built strength
until you are finally clear
even, of me.
#
Sep 25, 2019
Sep 25, 2019 at 6:06 PM UTC
Metaphysical meaning of Lod
Lod, lod (Hebrew)--
division; conception; emanation; pregnancy; travail; nativity; birth; contest; cleavage; fissure; strife.
A city of Benjamin (I Chron. 8:12). Its Greek name was Lydda. In the New Testament it is called Lydda.
Meta.
The breaking up of an old group of thoughts, or thought habit in consciousness, that a renewal of the mind may be accomplished. In other words, the effort that the seemingly human mind expends in bringing forth new and higher ideas, or the strife and contention that attend the breaking up of error that Truth may be brought to birth and take precedence
(division, conception, strife, travail, birth; a city of Benjamin)
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how would-could you know that my Hebraic background,
gave me a specialist insight into your writings,
in any language you employ
each and every trait.
in a potpourri scented and secretly elixered
division, conception, strife, travail, birth, travail
fissure, contest, nativity and birth
a potion powerful that needs to take
the moments of anyone's life
and bring to it, to them,
scope, recognitions, inside light,
for all conception
is precessed
by de~visions of,
strife, travail, birth,
for us all, even those,
who hail not from Lods {z}
there is much mystical here,
even magical emanations that occur in seconds,
how does one concept~conscript them,
to take, remake, mold them
both new and old simultaneously,
is a quality super
so truly human
so Agnes, write to us, write for us,
in any language of your preference,
for the it is the
captured content of those exquisite seconds,
that is all that matters,
and be of good cheer,
for your are
well received
Sep 22, 2025
Sep 22, 2025 at 2:56 PM UTC
Betwixt the plains the river runs
Through hill and forest, beneath the sun
Where fauna stop to pray for drink
And rocks appeal their will to sink
Betwixt the mounts the river runs
The scars it cuts ne'er be undone
And though men try to place a fight
The river claims them all with might
Betwixt the towns the river flows
And some may follow wherever it goes
The start of a trout, the end of a snake
Yet the river kills not, nor does it make
Betwixt the states the river flows
In places straight, where others it bows
For all of the knowledge contained within
It can retain not, how it were to begin
Betwixt the nations the river can rush
The lands that it touches can't help but be lush
Blessing the many who bask in its essence
And swallowing those who scorn its presence
Betwixt the cliffs the river will rush
Surging on to its final gush
All of the effort the river expends
Knowing too well, too soon it will end
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 10:42 PM UTC