"geist" poems
I tried to protect you by not remembering when the rabbis were teachers
and preachers we're on the beaches
Wishes were had in between sheets
Catfish spoken riddles but truthfully
Beautiful ripples in *******
So I was going to invite you over for txgiving but all pathology from the dsm-5 was represented. When I say over, I mean to KFC-
cousin Larry had to work but all the coleslaw and breadcrumbs you can swallow. How bout you did you get stuffed by the poultry-geist?
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 10:17 AM UTC
a shadow geist
out of the passing of time
reaches in me
grapples my heartstrings
tugs me away like a
like a stranded coastliner
and as it goes, I go,
and as you watch
in the darkness of interstellar space
you dim
to all but a faint sparkle
undifferentiated from other stars
but I won't confuse or lose you
I'll remember you
Even if I don't
I'll make something up in
place of the memory of you
I can't help but feel sorry
where am I now
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 1:04 PM UTC
sie kniet mächtig unter über unter ihrem Haar
du bist süchtig, ihrer blicke, deren Anmut, feurig starr
sie erhebt sich, ganz entblößt, doch vollkommen und bestimmt
und dann erzählt sie, in ihrer Schönheit, dass sie ist doch noch ein Kind
Dieses Mädchen, verworren wild, voller Kraft und voller Geist,
OH DIESER ANMUT
DIESE SCHÖNHEIT
DIESE BLICKE
sie sagt leis,
oh liebe Freundin,
du willst doch nicht,
mir weis machen,
ich bin du,
deine Reinheit,
mit meiner,
nicht zu vergleichen ist.
Und mein Ich, es schaut mich an, so licht, leicht voller Seele.
Und als ich denke DAS BIN ICH, kommen die, die fehlen,
tausend Mädchen, sie bin ich, ich bin nicht mehr zu zählen.
TAUSEND GEFÜHLE: DAS BIN ICH
dann versinke ich in Tränen
Jul 28, 2010
Jul 28, 2010 at 1:18 PM UTC
sie regieret
uber deinem Geist
sie wohnt
in dein Herz
sie liebt
du
sie ist…
sie
May 4, 2011
May 4, 2011 at 4:08 PM UTC
Haifische schwammen
Schwammen,
schwärmten
In einem Kreis, und gingen
Durcheinander
Wieder und wieder
Und wider meine Angst
Und meinen Willen.
Plötzlich änderte sich alles
Und ich wusste gar nicht mehr
Wo ich stand.
In Wirklichkeit saß ich,
glitt, trieb ich in der Luft oder
zwischen den Etagen.
In dem Boden bewegte
Mein Körper sich.
Du warst nicht da,
aber sie.
Sie manifestierte sich
Im Zimmer vor mir.
Ihr Geist tanzte
Und füllte mich,
Körperlich
Ein.
So schnelle wie
Sie kam, war sie
Wieder auf Einmal
Weg.
Sie fiel weg.
Ich existierte
Und zitierte
Im Dunkeln.
Er machte die Lichter,
die Sonne,
aus
und die Geister,
ihrer,
kamen und
uns fehlten
Die Worte.
Ich kann es nicht
Beschreiben, aber
Ich verlief mich und
Befand mich in einer
Neuen Welt
Füllend und überlaufend
mit ihrer
Stimme.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 4:40 PM UTC
Ich suche das Licht im offenen Feld
Doch sehe nur den Schatten
Von Bäumen hinter meinen Rücken
Meine Füsse getauft in Erdscholle
Die Fragen in mir optisch dargestellt
Nicht, dass ich den Weg verloren habe
Oder ich meinen Geist schwer
Auf mein Leben drücke
Nein, es ist die Sucht
Nach Weisheit was treibt;
Klarheit in Worten
Die Wahrheit hinter Reden
Oder das Leben nach dem Tod
Kurz gesagt, was findet man
Wenn man sieht durch das Fenster
Einer verborgenen Pforte
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
It comes, sneaks in
slowly, quietly.
Often at times,
I don’t even notice
its subtle arrival
‘til I’m being taken away
by waves, I know not how
or why to swim
Then I’m starring off
into the distance,
fixating on an endless crack
on the wall, it’s always there
I know I’m being occupied
by this guest of a geist
& I’d like to push you out,
keep this persistent phantom
of ugly things from taking me over
*Just give me the chance to breath,
before you pull me under ?
Annonce your arrival ?
& don’t wear that mask ?*
I already know your face
Don’t lie ?
oh, there is never any use
in talking to you, your rubble
Never, any
at all
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 5:51 AM UTC
as I sit near the sill of my window; eyes of my home
the scent of jasmine tinges the air; my sensual bridge
that the bonfire blistering days of summer seasons approach me, I know
that the tiny rocks that rattle in the basin of my guitar
must be lonely and without sound to keep them company.
when I write I feel quaint
more so than thinking,
more so than living?
when I write about myself
I only tell the worst parts
and that keeps me hungry
where is the good?
knowledge cannot be attained
when one's mind is weary; give up the geist!
and revel in insanity. You will,
you will, always in time you will.
May 23, 2011
May 23, 2011 at 9:58 AM UTC
The ghost
Empty girl
A spectator of greater events ( our narrator. Protagonist)
What it is to die inside but to keep breathing. It's like watching life but only catching the end of all things; the greatest romances but with every suitor you become so aware of the approaching end. You watch for it, bite your nails over it, rip your cuticles to shred the golden air you breathed only days ago, filling it with noxious silence and this oppressive somnalence;
And hell
to return to You, the real you, feels like clawing your way out of a well
You can't recognize your hands
These pinched phalanges are cracked with age lines but you are so **** young
Your hands are the hands of another.
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 10:30 AM UTC
You aren't the father of your son
His father is the other
Of one thing I am certain
That I am his mother
He was exchanged in fair trade
For unwilling contribution
They stole my unborn children
Then paid with retribution
Of this I cannot tell you
Or any of this world
The world is all illusion
I saw it all unfurled
He could conquer all of Ireland
He could rule the Egypt land
He could start the Roman Empire
Bury continents with sand
Of this I haven't spoken
To man or god or beast
To friend or foe because I know
What is to be his geist
His geist is told to noone
They told me in my dream
Of a gift ne'er can be given him
Or ne're 'gain will he be seen
So be his father well my love
Give to him your heart
And I will grieve forever
Long long after when we part
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC
I’m the cracks in the ice geist
The thief in the night light
The reason you can’t even go to sleep
When you’re hype Skype
The read it and write sleight
Of hand with that left heist
The best and brightest western spittin’-Spetnaz platoon type
The jungle, it’s coming
Oh, they want you there runnin’
That whole backwards crazy cooky communally-driven country,
That refuses to bow,
To the lion’s lie crown,
Because the tigress is the Ganga
And she’s watered this ground,
With cheetah archer princes blue
Through pacifistic aestheticians
Who still burn to the moon,
To feel her Saraswati peace of mind
Evoke the monsoon
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 10:16 PM UTC
>It burns in me the love that couldvé formed. The erotica that couldvé been extablished, the depth that could've been formulated. But you left, and all I'm left with is your unwanted scars and burdens that are not mine. The grass is wet and the sun is hot, but my soul is in pain and lingers for yours. **** me like you hate me, but, kiss me like you miss me.
<I started to love and the love that surrounds me can be as deep as a cannon that has been created but I'm not left with my left eye. The grass is wet and the sun is very hot, but my soul is sick and sick for you · · · You miss me as much as you love me, zeitgeist / ts?t???st, z?t???st / name for Valerie's Dictionary. You hate me as I do condoms; However, as the story evolved through thoughts and thoughts, a specific period of time in the spirit of emotional zeitgeist in the mid-nineteenth century: Zeit 'time' + geist 'spirit' is in German. There is love within me that engenders inner love. But I apologize for my injuries. The grass is wet and the sun is very hot, but my life will be tormented. I do not know if you do not like me, but you say: "I'm not telling you." There is a love that can be formed in the depths. But give me some scars. The grass is wet and the sun is very hot, but my soul stays in it. I do not know if you do not like me, but you say: "I'm not telling you."
>I'm not telling you, But I'd love to whisper the words that conform to your being of thoughtless scrutiny. Whisper back in a silent forecast and let your words be heard by me. As the wet grass sinks in the sand, I see our love has sunken too. Nothing but the pain to hold onto. You love me, but is it enough? I love you, and it's enough. Your love is poison and it's intoxicating to my existence. Like a harsh summer breeze that is hard to foresee, can I still write my feelings without thinking I am delusional, ought to be. Love me hard but your toxicity stands in the way, as your feelings en-dour, my love stays true. A consistent loyalty that leaves a bruise. Before you know it, you left, as you said you would. Cut me out like a harsh knife that needs no razor blade, like a clean slice, you just left me in your scars. But with that pain, for some reason, even if I have let you go, I still love you.
<Cut my heart out with a knife or razor blade for a clean slice, just leave your mark.
>Leave your mark but don't leave a scar. Bury your sacred existence elsewhere and leave me to live and love on my own. It's suffocating, it buries my soul, without you, I am free to breathe on my own. The sun is hot, the grass is wet, without your love, I feel free, not dead, consumed by other things, like my mind itself.
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 10:36 AM UTC
Ich gehe vorbei
durch dich
tüchtig
süchtig
und kalt ist mein Schweiß
und grauweiß
das heißt
ein Geist
tobt um mich herum
warum
weil du mich verlässt
zurecht
Und da schreit mein Blut
im Flut
in meinen Ohren
nicht wie neu geboren
und schwarz wird die Gegend
ohne Gottes Segen
weswegen
verlasse ich mich selbst
zunächst.
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 3:11 PM UTC
Billy got violent
It used to be an apparition
And now it fights for a vast attention
A geist clear and present
A feast for the mealing viewing of a gross company
:This explosion tuned on tide
And now it is our SwearHeart
Billy was so silent
Now it votes out all its crushings
All its firing angers
It's unnamed energy
Wild
The progenitor speaks :
Turn that Clown upside down
You Hanged Child
You Fool Card
By your age I'd joined the military
Had friends
Knew a girl
You are hard work ;
Our little SwearHeart
You're Thin Skin
Worn outside in
Understand (blinkered)
You must live in vain sight
You mustn't cut smart sound
Be team, be trophy
Make us proud
Our little SwearHeart
You play this part brightly
Perfect this Art
Turn in The Performance
And make us quite proud
Our Bitter SwearHeart
With our backing
Join in the game
And plea tame
Our Vicious SwearHeart
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 11:04 PM UTC
This began with an old man telling of diving from a bridge,
We can see, he said, if hitting bottom is possible,
a smart kid makes adjustments.
Still waters run deep,
listen
you know you can do this if we tri, you and I
insider outsider
other sider
consider the ant a tool,
learn to use them, they are already programmable.
try flies. what wish can you grant to fly?
what pheromone propels flies
to seek fly-level haps
meaningful and
satisfactory.
Make it real. Satisfied me says war is senseless,
it feels no pain.
There's no referee, so it ain't a life problem.
The entire life meme was upgraded,
when Netscape went public, in August '95.
Life's daysman had made the call, however long ago,
the Romans 8 manifestation gestation
thing was damming the info
rush,
but we fixt it,
at the heart of the matter of fact,
Bubbles were introduced to make booming
let up on trying to increase,
to effect the more abundant phase,
memes got real and made a global brain that
remembers ever things,
sorted by Planck-sec,
if you observe
in a properly augmented way,
the inner edge of the bubble of being.
The changes are the most precise captures
of a series of mortal moments on
earth, ever.
Perfect transparency.
See.
This is that gaseous substance, spirit, geist, breath
yes, hey
wind
listen, here we hear haps clappin' one handed,
singin' I'm so glad, to a Ginger Baker beat.
We should dance to this.
Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 6:08 PM UTC
it's either ***** or it's blackmail,
you choose; i've had, enough!
of making a choice! i've made mine already!
hoisin duck wraps! **** you and your
twisted "upkeep" of the white culture...
ich sagte meine finale,
überqueren meiné
origínal setzen...
ich werden meiné
zweite vorschlag -
die kreuzzug:
and i mean, really really mean:
die schwarzkreuz auf ein
trügerisch pazifist segeltuch...
i really don't understand
the undermining of the germans...
i really, really think these people
are crafting the next auschwitz with
their ****** take on innocence,
to me the muslims are the next jews...
but i like drinking watching this
cinema...
makes the whiskey tvice *** goot,
thrice as godot...
go ha ha jerky in deutsche...
these muslims don't know
germans...
i'm waiting for the goblin
cannibals to start eating the
migrants...
fun fun fun...
it's like you almost miss
the jews -
woe to those: who have seriously undermined
das deutsche... as i say:
nein, ich bin sißer sie
gemacht spaß was auf nicht
machen sein witz: zukunft geist...
and that really is my best effort of spastic
german... i think it was along
the lines:
take the **** out of the germans,
you will regret taking the **** out of
the germans,
because taking the **** out of the english,
only means a delayed reaction
from the americans / australians...
which is always the worst part of the joke,
that, by being delayed, is never,
actually endowed with a status of:
being a joke akin to auschwitz ha ha no ha ha.
still, **** me,
those hoisin duck wraps,
and the calendar year being unchanging;
keep calling it d-day qua qua quacking
jeep...
oh, right, blah blah
black sheep... forgot about the swans,
just started to imagine the israeli invention
of the *** hiding behind the propaganda
surrounding the kalashnikov.
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 10:21 PM UTC
Thesis and antithesis became one
And synthesis became thesis again
Another synthesis antithesis
And they became a higher synthesis
And the higher truths rose higher and higher
Higher and higher in a spiraling spire
Of conceptualizations like holy fire
Thoughts far above all earthly muck and mire
until
Until Mrs. Hegel told Mr. Hegel
That he ought to get off his lazy geist
And begin helping out around the house,
And set the weltseele out on the curb
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 1:46 PM UTC