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"extention" poems
Light the torches. Burn it to the ground. Let the flames dance until the ashes flee this plot of land upon the back of the wind. This patriarchal house that father built has been stained with the blood of past victims. The blood of enemies dots the floor while whats left of friends streaks the walls, marking the spot where they leaned for one last moment of respite prior to life escaping them. We stand here with the warm blood dripping from our hanging fingertips. Clothing streaked red. Clearly we all had a part to play. Whether part of the execution or part of the clean up, we all took part in the slaughter. Fathers swung blades. Mothers bandaged the wounded so they may **** again. Children carried the buckets of blood to be disposed of. Yet no one wept. Not a tear was shed in the name of this great nation. No one wailed during the systematic destruction of our resources. Roads are crumbling. Water is poisoned. Politics are a circus. The police have become a military force. And lives have been destroyed. Fathers are still wielding the blade While mothers take up the blood buckets of their children who have been slain. When does it end? Does it end when we run out of weapons? When we run out of people? When we run out of love? Weapons are only an extention of the wielder. The bomb unbuilt cannot explode. Our mother's words should be ringing in all of our ears. Be good. Treat people right. Love. Instead we jam fingers in ears, scream and stamp feet until even our thoughts are nothing but static. The hiss and squeal of gunshots and speeding tires continually drown out the sounds of children's laughter and those Marvin Gaye records that Mrs. Jenkins plays on Sunday nights. This isn't just a story of the inner city blues. The suburban warriors are also witness to the carnage. It's time to stay the blade. Allow mothers to mourn. And children to play. Peace is a choice. Choose wisely.
0
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 11:31 PM UTC
Father's House
Light the torches. Burn it to the ground. Let the flames dance until the ashes flee this plot of land upon the back of the wind. This patriarchal house that father built has been stained with the blood of past victims. The blood of enemies dots the floor while whats left of friends streaks the walls, marking the spot where they leaned for one last moment of respite prior to life escaping them. We stand here with the warm blood dripping from our hanging fingertips. Clothing streaked red. Clearly we all had a part to play. Whether part of the execution or part of the clean up, we all took part in the slaughter. Fathers swung blades. Mothers bandaged the wounded so they may **** again. Children carried the buckets of blood to be disposed of. Yet no one wept. Not a tear was shed in the name of this great nation. No one wailed during the systematic destruction of our resources. Roads are crumbling. Water is poisoned. Politics are a circus. The police have become a military force. And lives have been destroyed. Fathers are still wielding the blade While mothers take up the blood buckets of their children who have been slain. When does it end? Does it end when we run out of weapons? When we run out of people? When we run out of love? Weapons are only an extention of the wielder. The bomb unbuilt cannot explode. Our mother's words should be ringing in all of our ears. Be good. Treat people right. Love. Instead we jam fingers in ears, scream and stamp feet until even our thoughts are nothing but static. The hiss and squeal of gunshots and speeding tires continually drown out the sounds of children's laughter and those Marvin Gaye records that Mrs. Jenkins plays on Sunday nights. This isn't just a story of the inner city blues. The suburban warriors are also witness to the carnage. It's time to stay the blade. Allow mothers to mourn. And children to play. Peace is a choice. Choose wisely.
Continue reading...
41
She floated towards me. An extention of a dream, The finger tip of God's Downstretched hand. My eyes wide open into Bedroom darkness, as If seeing something ghost Yet so very, very not. Hair flowing as if fading Into the frame of Night. Arms like wings over Eggs; every piece of my Heart in one warm nest. Eyes like universes, skin The glow of supernovas. Smile as sincere as a Mother's. Ænima. Soul- Muse. The final force Behind every poet's pen. Nothing so penetratingly Beautiful ever touched the Iris of my inner eye. Never Felt such embrace, as if safe At last; knowing: In not too Long, every drop of water on Earth has been Cried at least Once.
0
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 4:28 PM UTC
Ænima
If only your mind were to be sure to exist, Wouldn't you be destined to be forever lonely ? Everything you know and learned to love would simply be an extention of your very own consciousness, your psyche, The fabric of this reality would be nothing but a fantasy, That of course, might be a wishful thinking to some, however, With the harsh fate would come a worse realization, Abandoned, layered upon a dusty tone, the fabric of your mind, If you then were to suddenly just shut down your conscious, Even your own reality would cease to exist further, Such thing could never be, but be sure not to forget, Everyone lives depending on mostly their knowledge and awareness and we call this " reality ", however, Both knowledge and awareness are aquivocal, That means one's reality might be anothers illusion So how can we really be sure, to exist ? ~ Umi
0
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 8:17 AM UTC
Solipsism
One day: One day you will not love me The way you loved me Once apon a yesterday One day you will love her And I will crumble As my heart with you will stay One day you will look back And our love will be But a sweet, memory And that one day is the day That my love for you Will bloom into misery Extention: Today: You do not love me The way you loved me Once apon a yesterday Today you love her And I love him But with you half my heart stays Today you look back As if our love Were just a bitter memory And today I know That all my love boomed Was a tale of misery
0
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 11:44 PM UTC
One day (extended) Today
Clear water; in the pool, deep and shallow. Right in-between, there is you. Feel the rapid movement of the waves surrounding you, moving you, captivating every part of you. Every move you make, surrounded by moving waves, sway away, and let it seize you as it takes you to another open wave. Surrounded by endless waves, forever in a clear water pool.
0
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 10:01 AM UTC
Rapid Extention
P- Precision on paper O- Optimism is optional E- Extention of words printed in pen T- Timed and tested for perfection R- Read and commented on Y- Yet what is written is for your eyes only
0
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 7:43 AM UTC
How do you spell poetry?
My eyes burn and are blood shot I blame it on allergies and makeup I've been crying for the past hour or so My mind and body a wreck Searching for that one thing Something to make me whole To make me feel safe and secure I found it couple times a while ago Just to have it all torn away So many times has it been in grasp Only to be torn away by someone or something I've been abandoned so many times before How can I trust again? There's is one person I rely on To take all my stress and pain Do they know? Do they know that they are the only one? The only one I can pour my soul out to And trust them with my darkest of secrets I hide behind a mask of happiness I pretend to be someone I'm not I ask myself "Who am I kidding?" My answer is "Everyone but me." Then I remember the one The one I forget sometimes Not on purpose but they slip my mind They are like an extention of myself Though we are different in so many ways In others we are one in the same Two sides of the same coin Forgotten over time, lost in a world too large I wonder if they get the same feeling Too afraid to ask I keep my mouth shut I don't press the enter key to the message I spent an hour writing I delete it ashames of myself Wondering how I can be so honest with them Yet I can't ask a simple question One that many people before me have asked As I sit here now I think of it It is always in my brain, scratching at my sanity I can only imagine what it would be like if I asked If I had the courage a month ago where I would be But instead I sit here terrified to ask four words "Do you love me?"
0
Apr 19, 2012
Apr 19, 2012 at 12:26 AM UTC
Do You Love Me?
My eyes burn and are blood shot I blame it on allergies and makeup I've been crying for the past hour or so My mind and body a wreck Searching for that one thing Something to make me whole To make me feel safe and secure I found it couple times a while ago Just to have it all torn away So many times has it been in grasp Only to be torn away by someone or something I've been abandoned so many times before How can I trust again? There's is one person I rely on To take all my stress and pain Do they know? Do they know that they are the only one? The only one I can pour my soul out to And trust them with my darkest of secrets I hide behind a mask of happiness I pretend to be someone I'm not I ask myself "Who am I kidding?" My answer is "Everyone but me." Then I remember the one The one I forget sometimes Not on purpose but they slip my mind They are like an extention of myself Though we are different in so many ways In others we are one in the same Two sides of the same coin Forgotten over time, lost in a world too large I wonder if they get the same feeling Too afraid to ask I keep my mouth shut I don't press the enter key to the message I spent an hour writing I delete it ashames of myself Wondering how I can be so honest with them Yet I can't ask a simple question One that many people before me have asked As I sit here now I think of it It is always in my brain, scratching at my sanity I can only imagine what it would be like if I asked If I had the courage a month ago where I would be But instead I sit here terrified to ask four words "Do you love me?"
Continue reading...
44
Yes I am, and this is my stature. I’ve acknowledged humanity‘s expansion and extention. The burden of proof is theirs and not on me, To disprove me or dismay me otherwise. But I tell you I am. Regardless of the exterior and superficial , Of the mere sight that speculate and perceive. Try and pierce through the dressings and you’ll see. Come and remember the bare fundamentals, Of similarities that binds us as one of a whole. Like an outcry for silence in a sea of angry voices. That begs you to feel and listen without prejudice. When wounded I feel pain, like the likes of many. When happy I exalt joy, like a child’s cry of glee. When hurt tears burn behind my eyes, yearning to be comforted by someone who gives a **** I am because I am, A mind and a heart that pumps the desire to live. I wake with the same sun and sleep under the same stars. On the same ground, same air, you and I try to survive. I am you when I look in the mirror. I am because what sustains me sustains you. That when cut will bleed the same color. So therefore you are the intricate and pure just as I am.
0
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 11:31 AM UTC
I am
I was thinking to myself What does powerful writing look like At first i saw a writer focusing all energy into the pen But I coreected myself, it would look like connecting the energies of the pen with yourself. Writing as an extention of your own will... an extension of your soul
0
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 4:05 AM UTC
Writing with power
It is so pretentious to build things with the intention of sharing them with another, to assume that we will find somebody at all. Most everything is meant to be shared, to be experienced in tandem; to be seen with more eyes than you possess yourself; felt with two hearts. Sometimes, we are lucky enough to find but an extention of ourselves. But that sinking, aching feeling when that discovered extension of yourself cannot be found is unmatched, only describable in the smallest of words - “missing you”.
0
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 3:09 PM UTC
Seeing People in Places
you know you wanted to have children because there's nothing else like having children and you have resolved to try anything once drugs, countries, racing, dancing all night, threesomes, kids the thing is, once you have kids, you can't have nothing else having kids is like having this repetitive job where your mates are slightly dumb (but they're growing on you) and there's no time off ever and the pay is scarce but you were promised that one day you will get a miraculous reward may be in ten years, may be later so you can't complain or your reward will be smaller or nothing at all it's not as simple as lack of autonomy you are an extention of their anatomy having kids is like having a second heart outside of your body and it constantly hurts but they do give you answers to life's hardest questions because they keep asking you life's hardest questions at 7am and you have to go searching for carton of milk, clean clothes and a meaning of life they teach you to say i love you they teach you that your strength is finite they teach you that your strength is actually infinite they teach you to be santa and tooth fairy and mother of dragons and everything there is to know about robots and vampires they teach you that you are the most beautiful, wise and love-deserving human on earth but your life worth nothing mom, what day is today? and what happens to us when we die?
0
May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 2:10 PM UTC
42
Enki baby, you make me sing My ears ring, and I cling to your memory Such symmetry we hold, you and I My fondest mirror The only balance that makes me shiver I love you, and I made you a promise Extention to extention Together we are intertwined The universe is inside us Our secret is a drive I fight for you The eve of me I can't help but be a sinner Your soul sets me free Its always been inside me And into us I now see Thank you for being my love My infinate butterfly
0
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 3:00 AM UTC
Untitled
we slide through the grey our eyes and words are at play though our bodies sit still filled feelings always spill I miss the area I belong even though it was wrong salt and freckles on your skin all the spots my lips have been you always felt right to me joined by our esprit friendship and tension you were of me, an extention you held my hand and heart and even though now apart I loved you the way a lover should the only way I ever could with everything I had to give I found in you a reason to live you complicated me you extricated me I am grateful, though you are gone and every day I dwell on the feelings I have for you and the space that between us grew
0
Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 12:20 AM UTC
Grey
an extention chord plugged into itself slithering passed the people
0
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
all standing in puddles
What values be exquisite when really is it more merely something of a misdirection a tentative connection along lifes Trail when no introspection beyond the surface is seen is not any kind of true reflection if life is only seen like some valued brand of clothing worn pristine or torn deem no referral in seeking resolution some guaranteed solution with every confidence paying for some applied extention as a warranty against wear and tear if this be your evaluation uplifting spirits against downward directions all due to those surface reflections   then that may just be that in the end there be nothing to repair nothing to mend nothing to see for eternity if you have no value in your own reflections
0
Jul 22, 2021
Jul 22, 2021 at 1:14 PM UTC
values in reflections
they jump up like dogs to greet you and they talk and want attention but i stay quiet because i know the truth. i know who you are: youre an extention of something beautiful but you are ugly.
0
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 12:53 AM UTC
kid burns ant