"fromm" poems
under the shell, inside
my chest, lies a hole,
blacked and beatting still
all the sorrow burn it down
at my 20s, later the pain becomes
a chain hollow and vain
and after all y become free,
from the chains self made
for contain the pain,
only need the one
, that breaks the spell
hearing
nutshel in my heart
he give my stregth to persist
untill im dead y will die free,
as a man not a creep or a shame,
just a ***** man, trying to be free
fromm pain and deceit.
sacre femme set my freee
fromm the pain and release me
fromm the burden of shame
and the eyes in my back, looking
some girl to wash them
and take the stains by loving me.
as a beast looking for the one, who
let him free fromm chains of the curse
just by love the sacred connection
that perhaps will set me free.
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 4:05 PM UTC
Ok.
Real talk now.
I've totally been thinking,
for way too long.
How the sorrow of my life,
has had me becoming
the demon that I learned of
while I was a child.
Redo the birth scene.
Cut.
Action.
I cut off my last hair doo with a razor.
Then the Taser of said fictions
divide my molecular compositions
into fractions of myself.
*And that’s exactly the person I don’t believe.
Myself.
Me.
I.*
*Define that one for me again Mr. Fromm,
the nature of man,
me,
the man who acts so honestly.*
The hero,
or the villain.
I don’t ******* care.
But I'll bare the scab
for all my wounds.
And each time I fall,
I pick my fractions back up
and redevise.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 9:26 PM UTC
YOU SEE DAD AND STAN BURNS AND STAN NIEMIC DESPITE WHAT THEY BELIEVED IN ON EARTH
FIXED A SATLLITE PLACED BY NASA, WHERE THE WA FIRES WERE PLAIN TO SEE FROM UP THERE
YOU SEE, DAD GOT HELP FROM SCIENTISTS AND PEOPLE INTERESTED IN BUILDING THE WORLD
AND I START TO FIGURE, IF WE CAN SEE THE FIRE FROM UP THERE, WHY CAN’T THE ALIEN FORCES
FORM A REALLY HEAVY RAINSTORM TO ERUPT IN WA, TO PUT THE FIRE OUT, MIND YOU
DAD, WAS HAVING A FIELD DAY, WITH THIS TELESCOPIC LENS, MAKING IT EASY FOR SCIENTISTS
TO TRACK DOWN WHEN EARTH IS IS UNDER ATTACK FROM RAGING FLOODS OR BUSHFIRES
AND, IF MORE SCIENTISTS AND ASTRONAUGHTS HAD MY BELIEF, THEY WOULD WORK WITH MY DAD
AND FORCE A BIG RAINSTORM, TO PUT OUT FIRES EVERYWHERE, YOU SEE DAD MIGHT BE DEAD
BUT HIS SPIRIT, CAN SLOWLY SAVE THE EARTH AND THE UNVERSE, EVERY BLADE OF GRASS
AND SCIENTISTS HAVE SILLY INVENTIONS SOMETIMES, BUT, MY DAD IS IMPLYING, THAT, THERE
MAYBE A WAY TO FORCE RAIN, FROMM UP ABOVE, I THINK MAYBE THAT IS WHAT THEY ARE TRYING TO DO
AND DAD AND THE TWO STAN’S DECIDED TO SEE, MMMMMM HOW ARE WE GOING TO GET RID OF THESE FIRES
YOU SEE, THERE IS WATER UP IN OUTER SPACE, WE JUST NEED TO FIND IT, DAD IS TELLING ME, TO TELL YOU
NOW, YEAH, I KNOW THERE IS WATER UP THERE, BECAUSE CLOUDS ARE FORMING LIKE A DISH IN THE SOLAR SYSTEM
AND IF WE CAN FIND OUT WHERE THIS WATER IS, IT COULD PUT THE FIRE OUT, BUT, WE NEED TO CONTROL IT
CAUSE IT COULD CAUSE FLOODS, SO JUST ENOUGH WATER TO DROWN THE FIRE, YOU SEE DADS MAN, WAS HE WAS INTERESTED IN
HELPING THE ENVIRONMENT, WE THREW HIS ASHES IN COPPINS CROSSING AND I RECYCLED HIS ASHES TIN
SO DAD CAN HELP IN THE FUTURE, AND, DAD HAS STARTED, WITH ALLOWING NASA, TO BE ABLE TO VIEW
FIRES FROM WHERE HE IS, AND I AM SURE DAD WILL BE GLAD TO HELP BRING RAIN TO THE APPROPIATE PLACES THAT NEEDS RAIN
EVEN IF IT MAKES LUCKY CRANKY, BECAUSE LUCKY BLAMED DAD FOR THE RAIN, AND NOW HE’S DEAD, DAD CAN
WORK ON CREATING RAIN ONLY IN PLACES THAT NEED IT, WHILEST LIKE EVERYONE HAS EARTH BODIES TO LOOK AFTER
NOW I AM INTRIGUED, IN HOW DAD CAN RALLY PEOPLE TOGETHER, TO BEAT THESE TERRORISTS, WHO THREATEN THE LIVES
OF PAUL BERENYI AND OTHER MEMBERS OF MY PREVIOUS LIFE, AS WELL, AS MY KIDNAPPER OF THE PAST
DAD FLEW OFF AND GOT PAUL BERENYI TO HELP HIM, FIGURE OUT A WAY TO FIND A WAY TO SEND RAIN DOWN TO
RID THE DREADED FIRES, I CAN GO UMMMMMMMM GET RID OF THESE FIRES UMMMMMMMM GET RID OF THEM NOW
UMMMMMMMMM SEND RAIN MR BARRY ALLAN, UMMMMMMM WHEN YA CAN, UMMMMMMMM GET RID OF THESE BLASTED FIRES, RIGHT NOW
YOU SEE DAD KNOWS IT WILL BE HARD WORK, BUT IT CAN BE DONE
UMMMMMMMM GET RID OF THESE FIRES UMMMMMMMMM SEND RAIN MR BARRY ALLAN, UMMMMMMM TO RID THE FIRES FOREVER AND EVER
UMMMMMMMM I WANT DAD TO GUIDE SCIENTISTS TO FIND A WAY TO MAKE RAIN, BECAUSE MY RAIN DANCE OVER SOUTH AUSTRALIA WORKED
UMMMMMMMM COME ON SCIENTISTS, LET DAD GUIDE YOU WHERE THE RAIN REALLY IS
SO NOBODY LOSES THEIR PROPERTIES, UMMMMMMMMM I KNOW IT’S HARD WORK, BUT WE MUST MEND EVERY BLADE OF GRASS
UMMMMMMMMM WE MUST MEND EVERY BLADE OF GRASS, UMMMMMMM WE MUST MEND EVERY BLADE OF GRASS
IF WE GET THE RAIN TO COME, DAD NEEDS SCIENTISTS TO HELP, UMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMM I AM A BUDDHIST HEALER
UMMMMMMMMMM DAD STAN BURNS AND STAN NIEMIC AND PAUL BERENYI ARE TRYING TO HELP SCIENTISTS BRING RAIN WHERE IT NEEDS RAIN
UMMMMMMMMM EVERY BLADE OF GRASS UMMMMMMMMM EVERY BLADE OF GRASS UMMMMMMMM EVERY BLADE OF GRASS
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 6:26 PM UTC
woke up to the listening
of more sands than candles
in diligently slit-bright
rooms- to a lonliness brash
with arrogance and laughter.
'not in this space, not in
this time, will the learning
curve present itself to you
so easily.' I dream of university,
college, something.. anything
stimulating cerebral cortex that
isn't submission as a wage slave..
student debt: perhaps a lesser of
two evils? gonna have to wait now.
gonna have to buckle in and watch
the sun shine from a lonely Fromm
book as I contemplate the truth
to Jung's idea that 'depression
is a sign of your leaving your
chosen path.' save me..
numerology?
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 2:08 PM UTC
I have this quote in my diary. apparently I was already reading Erich Fromm as a teenager. I don't remember reading Fromm that long ago BUT I can definitely recommend the books: "the Art of Love" and "The Art of Human Destructiveness" because those are two books I have given to friends.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 5:16 AM UTC
On A Scale FromM 1 To 10, I'm The 9,,,, AnD YouR ThE OnE I NeeD.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 6:50 PM UTC
Even though you had begun
when I was only 1 I got His Son
I do this just for fun, Crushing grooves
is how I moves fleet feet like horse hooves
it would behoove you to soothe
true your ego stop that flow
cause you know that if you blow
it'll show a snakeish temper let me simpl-ify before I die get so high when I try
to defy desire it lights a fire
for my lord forge the sword
to cut the haters rippin satyrs in two
separate the man Fromm the hoof
common brothers raisin roof
while I woof and howl
underdog on the prowl
with a cowl of divinty
rhyme flow infinity
the seed I sow for the Holy Trinity
Wholly subliminally lace beats minimally
more a cappellas speakin in simile
that's a metaphor that I wore
out from the thrift store
I gift more than billionaires
with my sterling silver hairs
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 2:31 PM UTC
I'll tell you a story
Of Two men
Who were best friends
One who had a predisposition to feeling nothing
The other who had a predisposition to sadness, suffering, and helping the people whom he loved
Their names were pity and melancholy
Respectively
One day pity said:"I want to be sad Mel. I want to feel sad. I wonder what being sad feels like?"
"Rather terrible I'd assume Pit." replied Melancholy
"Well I guess I'll never know." Said Pity and with that the two friends went their seperate ways
Melancholy was conflicted because he wanted to give Pity everything. Including sadness.
So he sat down and started planning. He thought of sadness and raindrops and death and tears and scars and pain and cruelty and anger and many sad things about the human race.
He drew things. Things that created tears in his eyes. Things that caused the void in his chest to deepen.
Then he was ready
He gathered all of his pencils and pictures and paints and brushes and palettes
And he set out to paint the streets with sorrow
He painted raindrops on the walls
And death on the floor
And cruelty on the lampposts
And suffering on the windows
He painted and painted
He painted a man's tears raining down from the walls
To drown the men on the floor
As the demons sniggered in delight from their lampposts
And their victims of torture hung fromm the windows
Melancholy painted.
He turned the river of tears into a river of blood
And when he ran out of red paint
He slit his wrists and used his own blood
Pouring his life into his sadness
Pouring his life into his river
And then it was finished
His masterpiece of sadness was complete
"Maybe Pit will feel sadness." he thought as he lay in the wet paint and blood with a small smile on his face
Pity walked around the corner and saw the tears and the demons and the corpses and he was scared
He followed the ominous river and at the end he found an extremely well painted corpse
It looked just like his friend Melancholy
He picked up the painting and as he watched the life abandon his sad friend's eyes he felt it
The pit
The void growing in his chest
Painful as if it were an acid that burnt up into his throat
As he watched the life abandon melancholy's life he cried
Because his friend was dead
And he was sad
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 5:03 PM UTC
enter these bewitched place you who dare tones of eye bells fall on you and your only rescue is your immagination which you can avoid fromm catching up with you
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
the trickks has 2 pass fromm mi to herr shee has 2 knoww mi andd things better than me and everything there is out here andd beyond
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 4:26 AM UTC
see the mirror in your eyes don't explain
the pain and cries
the what if the whys why should i try
why should i not cry so
we try t hide what we feel inside whats the point
why hide the cries yes you here your not left be hind think positive whip the tears Fromm your eyes you should feel lucky your living and alive
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 12:59 PM UTC
the trickks has 2 pass fromm mi to herr shee has 2 knoww mi andd things better than me and everything there is out here andd beyond
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 1:00 AM UTC
traces of you, in mi skin,
a taste of you in my
tongue, and the smell of
you, clouding me
i close my eyes and i see
you, the inner goddess in you,
holding my hand, walking next
to me, the strength in this cat
the reason to live, and advance,
and the owner of mi life, the muse,
the patron, queen and ruler
of this broken and blackened heart
i walk beneath dark clouds,
as if rains followed me, threw
the creepy and stocking me city,
followed and wounded, but strong
as a lion, with a proud smile.
the smile and the heart, are content
as thei where never be, complete and
free, yet, still arrased and followed,
even so, free, from the creep against,
trying to be you.}
a kissing poem for the beautiful,
sick muse, loved, admired, worshiped
as the moon, and like it, mi ligth in
dark nigths, next to you, two years without
feeling the loneliness, that usted to be
my soul companion,
the reason and the sense, in this nonsense
place, the trace of your eyes guard mi sleep
with my eyes closed, and feel you, next to me,
and the smell of you my religion,
making me your devoted, devote to your eyes,
devoted to your hips, and to the smell
of yor skin, every dream of you, i arise
kissing mi hands, the tip of mi fingers,
as if a trace of you where there still.
fromm heroine to you, i wanted to quit
the smack, but never wanna quit mi
fix of you, cann you be me everlasting dealer.
addicted to the soul and the eyes of
the lady lioness.
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 12:10 AM UTC