"faulter" poems
if silence is a barrier, i would break through it.
if the echoing sounds still didn't stop, i would scream aloud.
then i would hear nothing but my voice so clear.
if my murky vision is a barrier, i would break through it.
if the hazy illusions still didn't go, i would close my eyes so tight.
then i would see nothing but the visions of my heart.
if my unsteady feet are a barrier, i would break through it.
if i still feared that i would fall, i would stop a while.
then i would know perfectly where to go and my feet wont faulter again.
if my shivering hands are a barrier, i would break through it.
if i still feared that the task would go wrong,then i will close my fist so tight and engrave my nails till i felt the pain.
then i would know that even if i didn't carry on, i would still hurt myself somehow.
if reality seems a barrier, i would break through it.
if i still feared my past haunting me,then i would work hard to convert my dreams into reality.
then however may be the situations i would survive.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
As she took off her shirt on a one way camera.
She knew he only wanted to see her nakedness.
"because you look good in clothes but you
look much much much better naked"
All this love he proclaimed, where
only sweet nothing to tear her clothes off.
Her bra came off, then her shirt.
She laid there staring into text.
Not his face, not his voice, just words.
Thinking to her self, he's using me,
but I'm allowing it.
because all we will ever be is cam buddies,
where she was the center of attention.
AS if her nakedness could make him fall for
her quirky, clumsy hopeless romantic self.
All her bare chest could ever do is let him blow off some steam.
because "it's really **** when I can see them bounce."
On and Off that's what he liked about her,
he could let her go and know she'd pick up the pieces
until he came back to make her faulter again.
She was his slave, because no one ever made her
feel more like **** and a princess
all at once, than he did.
He was the monster in her heart with the resemblance of Gods.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
When you feel forever
LOST
impossibly gone.
You won't be
FOUND
Its not that simple
Just look to the stars,
WISH
believe it will come true
To simply hope is
PROFOUND
silly to even think it.
If you run, you're a coward;
although to stay is to die.
You must find your own escape...
How easy, if only you could fly.
Running gets you nowhere
when you're locked in this maze.
Somethimes thoughts hit you hard;
knock you out for a minute, maybe days.
Determined, you keep looking...
assuming this soon will end.
Yet these prison bars just won't break,
they don't even bother to bend!
Just lie on your back
RELAX
forget all else.
Stare into the beyond, the
EMPTINESS,
the abyss.
Make your wish, make it
COUNT
don't blow it now, just think.
In order to get out, get away,
ESCAPE
you can't afford to faulter, to miss.
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 2:55 AM UTC
I am Eunoia.
I do not faulter.
Let me in,
Enjoy the splendor,
Of this new state of mind.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 4:05 PM UTC
In this tangled web of energies
emerges truth ,
lined with golden love.
Tentacles grasp and hold,
striving to keep smiles alive and well.
Forcing back negative entities.
We rebel primal ways,
expanding facets of creativity
To push forth,
To push off,
To find yourself somewhere in between.
Sunken in the sidewalk’s crevasse.
***** and beautiful, the lotus blooms in harmony
We’re here waiting;
seeking.
Trying to balance this chaos we’ve created.
Calming minds and steadying tides,
the ocean pulls by Luna’s force.
The subtle aspect,
when we have no control.
The moon rises.
Bending blood;
bending minds, bending emotions.
All subjected to planetary reactions
and protractions.
Measured by our willingness to flow.
Desperately trying to find solace.
We cave.
We faulter, and give in to the moonlight.
Taking in all it has to offer
and becoming reborn within the sun.
A new birth in the light.
Refreshed and retrieved,
we emerge from our reckless physicality
and burst through in spirit.
Gods.
Beings.
Light bodies.
Humans.
Tangible, broken and beautiful.
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 4:39 AM UTC
We'll synchronize our hearts,
And play sweet music to the beat.
Our love will be forever,
In our souls and in the sheets.
We'll bump and sway,
To that rhythm in our hearts.
And we'll never faulter,
To where it ends, from where it starts.
We'll listen to that melody,
Coming from inside.
And you'll know in your heart,
I'll always be by your side.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 12:27 PM UTC
unmotherly love envelops you in all your childish ways
snickers and jealousy
emotional vampira
vacuous hole holding love at ransom
unmotherly mother
narcissim reigns over your sadistic ire
never satisfied
manipulation and cunning
pander them to exact perfect cuts of pain from me
but this is the last heart bleed
this the last compassionate faulter
I am no longer your prisoner
my babes are safe in bough of my loving arms
a million miles away from your strategic abandonment of me
your Radom spates of visitational cruelties
it spread a generation too far
you went too far
It will no longer reign
My humility is gone I am the best version of every dream you ever had
and I did it on my own
despite the cruelty of your cold
a lesson must be learned
now I'll show you a mother with a fierce love
the mother you choose not to be
a lioness crouched over her cubs guarded by claws
though capable as my other siblings seem to attest
you only have interests for their best
no more last
no more future
no more past
you don't hurt me anymore
my progeny will rise to all they aspire
challenged and sheltered
all equally loved
a child can not be her own mother's mother
you are nothing I need, now nothing I want
my only regret is, that I didn't leave your black hole sooner.
Dec 26, 2016
Dec 26, 2016 at 10:14 PM UTC
Surpressed and hidden from my sight
God I need your voice and light
For distant memories and forgotten blight
I've been weak and shut them from sight
Easier for me to hide
And pretend, in no realm, do they abide
Kept secret so long it's hard to confide
I fear they'll excuse my faulter's side
Ignore my plight
I'll feel contrite
Convinced I've shown a twisted light
But NO! My words are not twisted
Though my eyes they have misted
My heart is a knot
The truth is rot
They may hide their face but I will not
I ache to stand and say, at least that I have fought
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 1:51 PM UTC
Rain dapples in fens of the marshland brooks,
Among the rue hillocks of the sapling woods,
What little peace may fall to drop the shivering
Leaves, rood of the sun, a crop, kestrels quiver
In midair, to keep as they sway into the stations
Of all minions moused who faulter in formation
And bright is birth, when night clothes the day,
As all the mornings long, song of hope, in May.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 9:17 PM UTC
.
Rain dapples in fens of the marshland brooks,
Among the rue hillocks of the sapling woods,
What little peace may fall to drop the shivering
Leaves, rood of the sun, a crop, kestrels quiver
In midair, to keep as they sway into the stations
Of all minions moused who faulter in formation
And bright is birth, when night clothes the day,
As all the mornings long, song of hope, in May.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 5:49 PM UTC
A future projected
Vividly
I see you have arrived
I know you're here to take from me
Take and take
I understand why
I danced with you, demon
I asked you to play
Now this is the debt I have to pay
Obsessed
I became possessed
Sacrificed individuality
Signed in blood
My life away
Now Demon
Wrap my bones in witches hope
**** my stomach dry
Take my vision
Take my mind
Take it all, it isn't mine
Lie to me
Break promise me
Perfect for eternity
I'll drink it up
Purge my soul
Grow dimmer
Darker
With every goal
Shrinking, shriveling, fading fast
Denying logic
Believe my eye
I am a shadow
A mortal ghost
A projection of what I ought to be
There's less of me and more of you
Filling the space where hunger grew
I faulter
Linger
Hating you
Loving you
Hating to love you
Fighting you
I always lose
And if I escape
You'll ****** me
I find the thought
Strangely comforting
See
There's not much left
Perhaps just a shimmer
Of what was old me
Bone dust, and sinners lust
I am not much worth fighting for
So when the reaper greets me
(Demon! Say adieu!)
I'll gladly take his hand
And let him lead me away from you
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
Lips move in frenzy and I start to drift.
All fall out of sync and the loudness is swift.
A train passes by as mine derails.
I pull the brake but the friction fails.
I see many faces alive but they bleed.
They still shout with an unfathomable creed.
Back in the mass again where I was,
I feel uneasy to know that there’s no pause.
A cloudless sky runs with haste.
I see people eating with no sense of taste.
Surrounded with the filth I begin to wonder,
If in this storm there ever was a thunder.
I lock my jaws and unlock my mind,
with numerous toungues spelling curses behind.
I infer, I dceree and I pass my chance,
leaving my inmates with a courteous glance.
Now I am happy and I kiss my luck,
blaming the noise with which I was stuck.
I see a doctor to ask for a cure.
He sounds pretty sound and he knows it for sure.
In his words he tries to be quite precise,
”They talk a little crazy disproportionate to their size,
of things they know and out of their sight.
They run with a torch that bears no light.
They laugh, they mock and hinder your way.
They bet their back as much as they may.
They mumble, they chatter, they faulter and sigh.
They look back a lot to disguise a lie.
To hide their faces they wear those masks.
They’ll answer to all even if no one asks.
Their demeanor to you looks absurd because
according to them, ‘the effect precedes the cause’.
They always get paid to wear and tear.
It’s in silence they die. It’s loneliness they fear.”
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 7:21 AM UTC
Rain dapples in fens of the marshland brooks,
Among the rue hillocks of the sapling woods,
What little peace may fall to drop the shivering
Leaves, rood of the sun, a crop, kestrels quiver
In midair, to keep as they sway into the stations
Of all minions moused who faulter in formation
And bright is birth, when night clothes the day,
As all the mornings long, song of hope, in May.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
Rain dapples in fens of the marshland brooks,
Among the rue hillocks of the sapling woods,
What little peace may fall to drop the shivering
Leaves, rood of the sun, a crop, kestrels quiver
In midair, to keep as they sway into the stations
Of all minions moused who faulter in formation
And bright is birth, when night clothes the day,
As all the mornings long, song of hope, in May.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 3:01 AM UTC
Fear not little one,
Everyone has a purpose.
How quaint you must feel,
Like destiny ripping at your wired circuits,
Looking for meaning.
Looking for purpose.
It's not just you,
We're all wired that way.
Don't lose heart,
Your work, though minimal, has purpose.
Know that there is meaning in everything we do,
For there is a master plan, working itself out.
Even if it seems useless, faint, or unimportant,
Don't lose hope,
Do not faulter,
Don't stop or stutter,
You do more than pass the butter.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 2:07 AM UTC
Moonlight love bliss.
Resist and exist with Luna's lips.
Deception drips.
Safe ships.
Broken harbors.
They faulter.
Kneeling at the altar,
Deciphering the water,
Making promises to those in which are offered.
It all hits,
Tripped up when the bass kicks.
Lunar eclipse expelling ancestral scripts.
Ethereal lit.
Stripped **** and consumed,
Naturally attuned.
Breathing in changes like phases of the moon.
It's assumed,
That this is the awakening.
Listening intently to what the world is whispering.
Noticing openly that we are just visiting.
Partaking.
Actively defining open eyes with ancient ties.
Downloading forgotten advice
from fireflies and stardust littered skies,
Scattered on the reprise.
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 6:28 AM UTC
Whats wrong with your matter
why do your thoughts seem to shatter
and splatter all silence into waves
of static chatter
Let your mind faulter
sitting silent under the calm water
Bubbled constant blabber jabber of
topics and thoughts and things that really dont matter
Fill the days with more than one hour
of silent inner and being stiller
giving power to the brain flower
Ignore the distractor the interactor
and the teacher thats molding young minds
with some kind of ego attractor
use brain conditioner applyed twice a day
by a liscensed practitoner
asleep at the wheeler
thoughts that act as some kind of leader
attracted by a stringer
unaware of the silent danger
mind of alter hidden
right above the shoulder
Dec 17, 2011
Dec 17, 2011 at 11:10 AM UTC
.
Rain dapples in fens of the marshland brooks,
Among the rue hillocks of the sapling woods,
What little peace may fall to drop the shivering
Leaves, rood of the sun, a crop, kestrels quiver
In midair, to keep as they sway into the stations
Of all minions moused who faulter in formation
And bright is birth, when night clothes the day,
As all the mornings long, song of hope, in May.
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 1:15 PM UTC
Rain dapples in fens of the marshland brooks,
Among the rue hillocks of the sapling woods,
What little peace may fall to drop the shivering
Leaves, rood of the sun, a crop, kestrels quiver
In midair, to keep as they sway into the stations
Of all minions moused who faulter in formation
And bright is birth, when night clothes the day,
As all the mornings long, song of hope, in May.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 12:15 PM UTC
The sun rises,
The Skies' awake,
Another soul, they will take.
The tide goes out,
And then retreats,
The tiny ***** it defeats.
The daylight brightens,
The night is over,
It is finally time, to take cover.
The reapers are descending,
To be Nice people they're pretending,
They deny themselves, of who they are;
So they will always get so far,
They attack your soul,
And drain your heart,
Of everything you've learnt so far,
So take cover,
Under the waves of the water,
And drown yourself,
In the sunlight's faulter.
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 2:41 PM UTC
Plush gadget men, strapped with rounded green circular things, pig's of high class weapon. Mustard seed, to ghastly. Their deed's ***** and satire flaming. Guillotine wagon's to be put into FEMA cache camp's, the 200 million man army to cometh, a false prophet to bloweth mind's, wherein crime wilt seemeth as a prize to the suckling babies.. Rat's and scabies to infest the white pillar mansion! **** thy cigarette's and fathom, what thy blue bowling ball couldst hath been. Calleth it greenhouse gas, I sayeth get out the gas mask's and survive the fan flying ship's!! Martial law to be given as commandment's, citizens shalt turneth **** normal wilt be blood running down thy alleyway signs reading (STOP) the red paint to be the mark of the martyr's, desolate and slaughtered. The day wilt be shorter, as night to colden longer. Suicide vests to be strapped to the terrorist chest, as mothers turneth against brother's, and sister's against father's! Heart's wilt faulter the man's conscious thinking, the skeleton's wilt be stinking, as the maggot's of hell doth rise ... New age Rome to collapse as a domino on grandma's stove. À triumphant death, the devil wilt smile, until his days art outnumbered by the chariot riders, of Jehovah's miracle Mile..........
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Prophetic poetry
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
Plush gadget men, strapped with rounded green circular things, pig's of high class weapon. Mustard seed, to ghastly. Their deed's ***** and satire flaming. Guillotine wagon's to be put into FEMA cache camp's, the 200 million man army to cometh, a false prophet to bloweth mind's, wherein crime wilt seemeth as a prize to the suckling babies.. Rat's and scabies to infest the white pillar mansion! **** thy cigarette's and fathom, what thy blue bowling ball couldst hath been. Calleth it greenhouse gas, I sayeth get out the gas mask's and survive the fan flying ship's!! Martial law to be given as commandment's, citizens shalt turneth **** normal wilt be blood running down thy alleyway signs reading (STOP) the red paint to be the mark of the martyr's, desolate and slaughtered. The day wilt be shorter, as night to colden longer. Suicide vests to be strapped to the terrorist chest, as mothers turneth against brother's, and sister's against father's! Heart's wilt faulter the man's conscious thinking, the skeleton's wilt be stinking, as the maggot's of hell doth rise ... New age Rome to collapse as a domino on grandma's stove. À triumphant death, the devil wilt smile, until his days art outnumbered by the chariot riders, of Jehovah's miracle Mile..........
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Prophetic poetry
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 10:16 PM UTC
To live and not to wander,
in travels and in mind,
must be the way to faulter
like no other kind.
To seek, create, to love, we do
wander on, as we must,
to never find what's true,
while our ashes turn to dust,
and sow what makes us blue.
Wander on,
do not stick to script.
And when life throws a rhyme,
and you're sure that it's time,
say no.
Flipped.
Wander on
the lines across
these
p
a
g
e
s.
Wander on,
until you reach the ages.
When you write with rhyme,
the poem will write itself.
Same with life,
and you'll find there's nothing
left.
What can you say that hasn't been
said?
Where can you go that hasn't been
led?
So say you break the mold,
break the rhythm, break the rhyme,
will you keep on going?
Will you find the time?
As the end comes nigh,
the finality closes in,
you begin to stray,
to see what may truly be
offered.
But if only you had the energy,
you know you couldn't wait.
To enjoy life's simple pleasures,
and now it's far too
late.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
Someone saved my life tonight.
I didn't faulter, didn't fight.
The room inside was cold and damp.
Illuminated by the lamp.
Someone saved my life tonight.
The aura was blinded bright.
He took me in with open arms.
Hands of his blocked the swarms.
Someone, yes.
He saved my life.
Days were added to the night.
-Mae.B
Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 10:22 AM UTC
I see.
This match in your hand.
With careful movements.
Meticulous.
Dodging the rain that fell.
Hand over humble flame.
The previous burns are still there.
Lingering.
And yet.
You push forward.
Hoping.
That not a single tear will wash away the light.
I witness.
The runaway train.
Horns blaring.
Muffling the words.
That never seem to come.
Mach three.
And still no signs of slowing.
I stare.
A bystander.
As the earth beneath your feet stirs.
Quaking knees.
The smile never left.
For your safety was never in the prompt.
I gaze.
At all the beautiful disasters in question.
This house of blades.
Tell tales of edges that are remnant still.
Whispers so loud.
That even the ghouls shy away.
And as I do all these things.
I have never left your side.
The past may haunt.
The winters cold indeed.
But let shine my love.
For a constant you have truly been.
One that I shall never faulter from again.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 12:30 AM UTC