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Knit Personality Jul 2018
Root of all thirsting,
    My greatest desire,
A single drop bursting
    Can put out a fire.
A single drop wholly
    Divorced from the brine,
A single drop holy,
    The liquid divine.

        Find what you love,
            And let it **** you.
        Water, I love you.
            **** me, will you?

Raindrop or dewdrop
    I want on my tongue.
For the old drop and new drop
    These verses are sung.
The new drop and old drop
    Of water I crave,
The hot drop and cold drop,
    From cradle to grave.

        Find what you love,
            And let it **** you.
        Water, I love you.
            **** me, will you?

Drown me in oceans,
    In crystalline seas,
In H2O potions
    Of perfect degrees.
Drown me in teardrops
    Divorced from the brine,
In flawlessly clear drops
    Of the liquid divine.

        Find what you love,
            And let it **** you.
        Water, I love you.
            **** me, will you?

#
mae Dec 2018
Far away from today,
There is something vital I must say
Your life meant frigging dirt to me
6ft under was your destiny.
Seema Dec 2018
(I)
A word unspelt
The words unsaid
A wrong turn again
It may be bad
From one end to another
The evidence makes no sense
There could be another way
Why feel tensed
The heavy clouds will soon fade
And moon will give us the way
It's gotta be somewhere
Not so far away
Whoever has laid hands on
The buried old scripts
Have gone missing
On their adventurous trips
What is in it,
That one craves to find
Is it a treasure map
Or a portal of any kind
I feel it isn't a good idea
To join this group of five
It is still time
To run and be alive

But wait...

What is that noise, I hear
The other five lanterns
Seem to have disappeared
Like being swallowed
By some form of evil
I may be wrong, coz am quite behind
To even reach the grounds
Where, burried are those scripts
And a curse that bounds
I decided not to continue
Any further and put my life in danger
So I waited for day break
And that's when, I met a stranger...

(II)

An unusually dressed figure
That like of an ancient priest
With a hood covering
Emerging, from behind the trees
May be, he is one of the five
But how can I be sure
As the figure looked strange
Or perhaps, trying to lure
I sat next to a big rock
Keeping my eyes fixed
A sudden brush of winds
And the place seem to be mixed
I blinked to clear my view
Of that of dirt and dust
Pieces of rags flew
In the wildly gust
Intoxicating scent caught my senses
And I seemed to be drowning
From below my feet
Hours later, opening my eyes
On a hard solid ground
Surrounded by
Unearthly or earthy crowd?

(III)

Whispers of death
Rang in my ears
Blurred vision gave way
To my crouching fears

Where am I?

Above the ground of below
Is it my grave
Or a tomb
Like cave
Dim lights sprawl
As I try to stand
The ground suddenly shakes
And on my chest, I land

Is it my end?

Glitters and shine
From the passing ray of lights
A graveyard of buried treasures
Below many heights
It, definitely must be a dream
Yet, I can still feel
The chill of hovering death
Crawling beneath my heels
I dare not look down
To scream my head out
So I slowly, crawled
Towards the faint light
From where I heard the strangers call
Standing slowly,
not to disturb the peace
I followed the voice
That led among the trees...

(IV)

The moon was bright
And I felt the cold breeze
Brushing enough
For my ears and nose to freeze
Then a voice cracked
Of that of an old man

"he who bares no greed,
shall walk free",
"he who dares to steal,
shall be buried alive"


The stranger -

Your life is spared
From the cursed wrath
Your soul is pure
In the eyes of death
You lack the ingredient
That most posses
So have perished
And left lifeless
It is the greed
That is cursed in a being
Thus, all five got buried
With their share and sin
You walk free unharmed
Return to your people
And let them know
Whoever walks through
The path in search of scriptural treasure
Shall be cursed and buried
Within the treasure

And I, blink -

Far from the place
As I was in the night
Back to my senses
Welcoming day light
Life of mine is precious
That no penny or treasure
Can ever buy
Who wants to live a cursed life
And live behind their lies
I lack the seed
Of greed
That I don't intend to plant
I shall read
And educate
On how harmful, is this
Greed...


©sim
Spilling imagination. A story poem.
Salmabanu Hatim Mar 2019
Written on the grave of a gambler who died before he could repay his debts in millions.
"GONE BUT NEVER FORGOTTEN"
Peter J Feb 2019
I
How will you remember me,
will you form my shape as is my way,
my veins swollen with a veiled rejoice
that hides my burial chamber beneath
a shrouded veil of contempt.
Who will remember me?
A fighting roaring man drunk as sand
an outside storm that weathered faces
in a rising sky full of snow horsemen,
that draw your eyes upwardly
then fall below their peculiar time.

II
How shall I be remembered?
A lover that blazed a trail every midnight,
he that stole and sold hearts in a single beat,
fashionable runt, cool in summers heady days
that ran from a friends sisters bed before her age.
Who would remember?
The love the labour the sweat
the boundless hours working for cruel light,
a family pace of a snails want
that sweet cruel need that never shy’s
and I am bound by my fragile word.

III
My brother, my sisters voices I hear with a clear ring
gutted on cold stone ground in frost
and I knew love before my maidens mouth
whispered through thickets of thorns and bramble.
Who will remember them?
It’s the breath from those that rant,
clergymen with fierce eyes that talk in fondness,
yet would perish when their birds fly unknown
before deaths curtain is closed and comital spoke.
Lost in my map, my life, my day in poise.

IV
Now I sigh long into the day.
My steepled church sky soars far above me
and days grow shorter with every passing mouth.
Saints and sinners ride together in fallen flames as I look for an open eye in this mudded rockpool water.
And I remember;
with long armed embrace
that I kissed maidens lips
when they were young with starry eyes
and was carefree with strong clasp of bone
and in this third season fall Autumn was taught that forever was my sea, but a few hours between.
All this long before my grave and dying light.
#ive reposted this because I heard today  the girl I mention has passed away.
RIP Mags, I  wish I had been brave  for you ***
Loser Feb 2019
While dirt piled beneath my nails I clawed at your grave all night,
breaking my back until your blackened and dismantling coffin was in sight.

The weeds circling your tomb stone danced without appearing mundane,
as the freezing wind called to you, howling out your name.

I pried open your wooden door that had been etched with two dates,
and I knew that what had happened to you would soon be both our fates.

I thought back to the day when I found out you took your life,
and with hopes of mimicking you in sorrow, I keep a gun to my side.

Slowly I crawled in next to you, with just enough room for two,
and I looked up beyond the trees and saw a sky painted dark blue.

And in this moment at last, I felt completed by your side,
then I shut the door, pulled the trigger, and never said goodbye.
Tintin May 2018
You're as gentle as a lover
your patience knows no bounds
so tender is your touch as you place us in the ground
your hands tirelessly work
your eyes rarely blink
Late conversations keep you from catching a wink
your soundless voice soothes us
you are never in a rush
when you start your work
we bid each other hush
you rest our weary bones
and release us from this home
you reassure us we won't be buried alone
Dear precious grave digger
though we wish to flee
By your side is where we belong
we remain with thee
Outside Words Oct 2018
A Capitalist
burns each day shoveling dirt;
paid to dig his grave
© Outside Words
jiminy-littly Mar 2019
when the mind becomes numb

a skull can be dissected to show its cavities

cavities are the orbit of the eyes

an old Indian saying?


I noticed you really just want to annihilate me

not comfort you.

There is a blood meal in me
ready to explode  

a tombed implosion

an imprisoned womb.


But it's too late for that

time is personal

and lately, voices.

I fear the indecipherable is now decipherable

I see in Moriah, Jonah, and Tyler, incredible nations

Cree, why didn't you listen to me!

can you ******* saliva?
get over it!

you know
the skull was dissected to show the cavities of the orbit of the suns.
Chris Saitta Jun 2019
The desert is not the grave of the sea.

The heaving reign of pharaohed seas,
Rule in bloodline of palm wine and embalming fluid of brine.
The tides are their mummified lips,
Whispering the coming forth of spells eternally to the sky.  
All goddesses, like shawled Isis, in lamentations of hair
And past-wept somnolence for Egypt,
Lie across the heart-bound murmur of waters
From their dead kings and the kingly divine, Amun-Ra,
Whose bird-starred eyes fill the canopic jar of the cosmos.

The sea is the grave of the desert.
“Palm wine” and spices were used to rinse out the abdomen of the remains.

The Egyptian Book of the Dead was a phrase coined in the 19th century.  A more literal translation is The Book of Coming Forth by Day or Spells for Going Forth by Day.

The heart was actually the only ***** left intact in the mummified dead. The other organs were kept in canopic jars though some were rebound and reinserted into the mummified remains.

For a slide video of this and other poems, please check out my Instagram page at chrissaitta or my Tumblr page at Chris-Saitta.
Lily Nov 2019
You left me at dusk,
Gaunt and sad and gray,
And when the morning glow arose,
I could find you not.

The night before was faded
Like a withered rose, and
I could scarcely recall your smile,
Your sunflower smile.

Why were you taken from beside me?
I hope there is a reason, as the time
I’ve spent since you left has been
Measured and is of little worth.
Inspired by Robert Frost's "Flower-Gathering"
Jolan Lade Mar 2018
It's not going so well.
That's really all that I can get myself to tell.
It's a struggle for me to keep above water, when I'm in the middle of this meaningless slaughter.
I keep telling myself that I will survive, but everything is in an endless and continues dive.
When I look up all I see is empty eyes and dark lies.
When I look around shells are cracking, and guns are banging, making projectiles whistling and blood drizzling. It's a chaos.

I look behind me, I gasp as hell gates clasp.
No sense or justice are served when rules are curved, so well as pain observed.

I carry on digging my own grave, I am no hero I have no one to save.
I am not screaming, just seeing how people fall in vain, without any opportunity to gain, just a single breath of "clean air". That is where I shoot my flare into the sky, in a hope so needless, I might see an angle fly.
The clouds turn dark, and with time, "hope" quits leaving a mark.

So dear beloved God, please give me a sign, lead me a path, so I can leave this awful place behind.
I don't really belong.
Sam Aug 2018
Why can't dying be delightful?
My feverish smile
Pathogens far too strong
I've failed this trial

I'm facing the end
My blood boils within
This cancerous fate
Carries my soul away
Crafting up pain
As the medics embrace

A dance with the darkness
I won't last too long
Carry me under
Where the sun fades away

Lost to the coffin
Finality's somber
Led by the reaper
To eternal slumber
No breath in my chest
I'm finally at rest
Tatiana Jan 2019
For the next two weeks he digs a grave.

He deftly wields a shovel
with hands that have forgotten
what it's like to hold the tools of life
He only knows what life is like
when he digs a hole for holy men
who have cheated others into strife
who have hurt their children, brothers, and sisters
who have made damaged wives
So for two weeks, he digs the hole deeper
than regulation states
for men who were mistakes.

The more time he spends digging
The more time the dead spend climbing

And they're always climbing
the ranks to be on top.
Falling again, bones breaking on impact
they just shake it off and start again.

He met one dead man who climbed to the top
with a light glowing where his eyes should be.
The dead man shuddered, bones rattling a song
of all the people he had wronged.
He was more bone than skin
More ghost than human
But he came back with sorrow on dried, discolored lips
and the grave digger wondered if
he could have redemption

For the next two weeks he digs a grave.
©Tatiana
Anmol Mago Nov 2019
"What's behind that grey wall ?"

"A grave"

"But who's ?"

"mine"
I digged the ground with a shovel
The length is 2 meters
With 1 meter width
And 6 feet deep

I put down my deceased dreams
Inside the grave
I finally swallowed the harsh fact and the painful faith
After I broke down in tears

My dreams were
To live with you
My dreams were
To put my lips against yours
My dreams were
Putting a ring around your ring fingers
And my dreams were
To love you forever

But unfortunately, my dreams now are just memories
Burrying your dreams and then move on are really hard sometimes
Semicolon Jul 2018
And when I planted
Your best loved flowers on your grave,
I knew I missed you.
And every time I see a bouquet of tulips, I secretly hope it's from you to me.

© Semicolon
Shofi Ahmed Dec 2017
Every star across the seven skies
wishes to kiss it is a gold dust.

Not to mention the Moon in the centre
waning and waxing in the open and in secret
keeps unleashing longing to rub
this non-sublunary piece on its forehead.

She knows only then the rough seas beneath
her will calm down in the soft raining moonlight
rubbing off such a lucky blossomed forehead.

Oh, if only scarcely they could ever see it
the galaxies since their inceptions longing for it.
The bliss of the eyes tucked away from the scene
Paradise lies beneath the mother’s feet!

The mother is fast is for all and is down to earth
She, the mother Fathima descended down
from up above the heaven that pivotal frontier
only all the prophets’ Prophet has seen.
Then was no Adam nor Eve or Jibreel!

Paradise finds its core with its resonant lore
in the shadow of the original feminine Fathima
the immortal hotspot the original matter explored.
Paradise lived and breathe beneath her
but she touched down at the heart of the earth
without stepping or touching on paradise
only to give away her stake to others!
No land she would take on her way back indeed
Not in her name, know where Fathima’s grave is?
When people visit Islamic holy city Medina they look for the grave of the holy lady Fathima. It has been the tradition since her death some fourteen hundred years ago. There are two graves where she is buried but which one is her is still unknown It's been said that she preferred her grave to remain unidentified.
Mark Jul 2019
As I have aged, her grave appears as new
Instilled in time, with time that stole her youth
Belaying 'neath the cruelest mire, death knew
To stain the satin dress that dawned love's truth.
When winds do swift away my oldest breaths
And I rejoin my love in lasting sleep
Will I by spirit - in it's soulful depths
Recast hereby my angel of the deep?
If not, let worms leave that of love and mine,
By her my love did know and there shall dust
And let the ashes draw her name to line
The nothing that awaits my ardent rust.

To when the grey becomes my coldest stone
Beside or with, her love's my ever known.
Memphis Oct 2018
everyday is the same
but
inside me a
rose is blooming

they whisper
whathappenswhenitdies?

they forgot that
dried petals
are beautiful as well
A dark beauty,
Emerging from the mist,
His eyes like coffee,
His lips yearning for touch,
Behind him,
The cloudy moon glows,
His eyes,
Piercing eyes,
In the cold,
Misty night,
“Dark beauty, dark beauty!” I call.
“what are you searching for?”  
“Love.” He says
His voice smooth and calming.
“Love like no other.”
The graveyard slowly decaying around him,
His ghostly white skin stands out in the cold dark night,
His eyes stare into mine,
Peering,
Soulful eyes,
In a graveyard,
On a cold,
Misty night,
He steps towards me,
His smooth motions,
Give me an alluring desire,
His hand holds mine,
Gentle hands,
His eyes calming,
Calming eyes,
And ghostly skin,
In a graveyard,
On a cold,
Misty night.
for my love,
my sweet
dark
beauty.
Ali Ashraf Dec 2018
my heart is heavier than the norm
there is a thunderstorm
rising within me
of overwhelming misery
life is being ****** out of me
I no longer feel free
I feel like I am being played
by someone else
or maybe it's my own fate
or maybe some sort of curse
I am dying here
O my saviour! save me
I lost myself
somewhere along the way
would you please show me
where is my grave?

© Ali Ashraf
daizy Sep 2019
when we rot together
out grows raspberries and heather

from decay dancing in our everlasting days
kids play cards on top of our grave

or of a lovers first kiss
bestowed a flower they pluck, we couldn’t miss

budded from inside our heart and ribs
wild flora born and raised in our skeletal cribs
Jordan Rowan Dec 2015
Pain brings out the best in people
And somewhere in between
In the middle of good and evil
Is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen
She radiates on golden airwaves
Among the valleys of time
And halfway down heaven's stairway
She blows your doubtful mind

There's dishonesty in honest men
Somewhere beyond the grave
And when they get lost in it
There's no woman they can save
If falling for you is wrong
Then I don't want to be right
Sing with me, uncertainty
And stay with me tonight
Poetress2 Apr 2019
I had a dream last night,
that Jesus came to me;
His Glory shone so brightly,
it was hard for me to see.
~
"Could Jesus really be here,"
I wondered in my dream;"
And then I heard His voice,
calling out to me.
~
"I need you to reach others,
those who are unsaved;
Tell them that I love them,
and do not be afraid.
~
Tell them how I lived,
and tell them how I died;
Tell them it was worth it,
to save one single life.
~
Tell them I bring Hope,
to all men, everywhere;
Tell them I can save them,
from the Grave they can be spared."
~
Then I suddenly awakened,
my heart was full of Peace;
"I'll tell them all, dear Jesus,
and I'll preach it from the street."
I used to think the world was fair and that life works itself out
But now I’m confused and my heart’s filled with doubt,
The threads of this dream are starting to unwind
I’ve come to learn the world is unjust and fate is unkind.

I always thought you were real but my perception was blind
Your blurring my vision and playing with my mind,
Slowly like the sands of time you’re ripping away at my soul
You’ve taken all I have, all that makes me whole,
Driving myself crazy trying to fill that empty void
But I can’t pull it together, my confidence you’ve destroyed.

You’ve taken my happiness and replaced it with hate
So much hatred and anger I just can’t take,
You’ve poisoned me enough, I’ll break down and cry
But never will I give up, no I will not die.

You will not take me down, you will not conquer me tonight
I will not lay down in my grave I’ll stand up and fight,
I maybe bleeding but take off that smile if you think you’ve won
A knife through my heart is nothing, the battle’s just begun.

There is warrior inside that you failed to see
A strength you missed while you were judging me,
She will not give up as easy as you think
I’m drowning in depression but she will not sink,
Through all the pain and criticism she will stand tall
When pushed passed the limit she will not fall,
I will take whatever you give to me
And with god by my side I will be free.

I won’t bow down to you and just take the abuse
You can’t break my faith, don’t try there’s no use,
So you can turn that smile into a frown
Because this is one girl that just won’t go down
© 2016 Christine Mulvihill
Read more at http://www.******-in-oncology.com
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