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On December the tenth day
When it was night, down I lay
Right there as I was wont to do
And fell asleep wondrous soon,
As he that weary was as who
On pilgrimage went miles two
To the shrine of Saint Leonard,
To make easy what was hard.
But as I slept, I dreamed I was
Within a temple made of glass
In which there were more images
Of gold, tiered in sundry stages,
And more rich tabernacles,
And with more gemmed pinnacles,
And more curious portraiture,
And intricate kinds of figure
Of craftsmanship than ever I saw.
For certainly, I knew no more
Of where I was, but plain to see
Venus owned most certainly
That temple, for in portraiture
I at once saw her figure
Naked, floating in the sea.
And also on her head, indeed,
Her rose garland white and red,
And her comb to comb her head,
Her doves, and her blind son
Lord Cupid, and then Vulcan,
Whose face was swarthy brown.
And as I roamed up and down,
I saw that on a wall there was
Thus written on a piece of brass:
‘I will now sing, if that I can,
The arms, and also the man
Who first, pursuing destiny,
Fugitive from Troy’s country,
To Italy, with pain, did come,
To the shores of Lavinium.’
And then begin the tale at once,
That I shall tell to you each one.
First I saw the destruction
Of Troy, through the Greek Sinon,
Who with his false forswearing
And his outward show and lying,
Had the horse brought into Troy
By which the Trojans lost their joy,
And after this was engraved, alas,
How Ilium assailed was
And won, and King Priam slain,
And Polytes his son, for certain,
Cruelly by Lord Pyrrhus.
And next to this, I saw how Venus
When that she saw the castle’s end,
Down from the heavens did descend
And urged her son Aeneas to flee;
And how he fled, and how that he
Escaped from all the cruelties,
And took his father Anchises
And bore him on his back away,
Crying, ‘Alas!’ and ‘Well-away!’
That same Anchises, in his hand,
Bore the gods of the land,
Those that were not burnt wholly.
And I saw next, in this company,
How Creusa, Lord Aeneas’ wife,
Whom he loved as he did his life,
And their young son Julus,
Also called Ascanius,
Fled too, and fearful did appear,
That it was a pity them to hear;
And through a forest as they went,
At a place where the way bent,
How Creusa was lost, alas,
And died, I know not how it was:
How he sought her and how her ghost
Urged him to flee the Greek host,
And said he must go to Italy,
Without fail, it was his destiny;
That it was a pity thus to hear,
When her spirit did appear,
The words that to him she said:
Let him protect their son she prayed.
There saw I graven too how he,
His father also, and company,
In his fleet took sail swiftly
Towards the land of Italy,
As directly as they could go.
There I saw you, cruel Juno,
That is Lord Jupiter’s wife,
Who did hate, all their life,
All those of Trojan blood,
Run and shout, as if gone mad,
To ******, the god of winds,
To blow about, all their kinds,
So fierce, that he might drench
Lord and lady, groom and *****,
Of all the Trojan nation
Without hope of salvation.
There saw I such a tempest rise
That every heart might hear the cries
Of those but painted on the wall.
There saw I graven there withal,
Venus, how you, my lady dear,
Weeping with great loss of cheer,
Prayed to Jupiter on high
To save and keep the fleet alive
Of the Trojan Aeneas,
Since that he her son was.
There saw I Jove Venus kiss,
And grant that the tempest cease.
Then saw I how the tempest went,
And how painfully Aeneas bent
His secret course, to reach the bay
In the country of Carthage;
And on the morrow, how that he
And a knight called Achates
Met with Venus on that day,
Going in her bright array
As if she was a huntress,
The breeze blowing every tress;
How Aeneas did complain,
When he saw her, of his pain,
And how his ships shattered were,
Or else lost, he knew not where;
How she comforted him so
And bade him to Carthage go,
And there he should his folk find
That on the sea were left behind.
And, swiftly through this to pace,
She made Aeneas know such grace
Of Dido, queen of that country,
That, briefly to tell it, she
Became his love and let him do
All that belongs to marriage true.
Why should I use more constraint,
Or seek my words to paint,
In speaking of love? It shall not be;
I know no such facility.
And then to tell the manner
Of how they met each other,
Were a process long to tell,
And over-long on it to dwell.
There was graved how Aeneas
Told Dido everything that was
Involved in his escape by sea.
And after graved was how she
Made of him swiftly, at a word,
Her life, her love, her joy, her lord,
And did him all the reverence
Eased him of all the expense
That any woman could so do,
Believing everything was true
He swore to her, and thereby deemed
That he was good, for such he seemed.
Alas, what harm wreaks appearance
When it hides a false existence!
For he to her a traitor was,
Wherefore she slew herself, alas!
Lo, how a woman goes amiss
In loving him that unknown is,
For, by Christ, lo, thus it fares:
All is not gold that glitters there.
For, as I hope to keep my head,
There may under charm instead
Be hidden many a rotten vice;
Therefore let none be so nice
As to judge a love by how he appear
Or by speech, or by friendly manner;
For this shall every woman find:
That some men are of that kind
That show outwardly their fairest,
Till they have got what they miss.
And then they will reasons find
Swearing how she is unkind,
Or false, or secret lover has.
All this say I of Aeneas
And Dido, so soon obsessed,
Who loved too swiftly her guest;
Therefore I will quote a proverb,
That ‘he who fully knows the herb
May safely set it to his eye’;
Certainly, that is no lie.
But let us speak of Aeneas,
How he betrayed her, alas,
And left her full unkindly.
So when she saw all utterly
That he would fail in loyalty
And go from her to Italy,
She began to wring her hands so.
‘Alas,’ quoth she, ‘here is my woe!
Alas, is every man untrue,
Who every year desires a new,
If his love should so long endure,
Or else three, peradventure?
As thus: from one love he’d win fame
In magnifying of his name,
Another’s for friendship, says he;
And yet there shall a third love be,
Who shall be taken for pleasure,
Lo, or his own profit’s measure.’
In such words she did complain,
Dido, in her great pain
As I dreamed it, for certain,
No other author do I claim.
‘Alas!’ quoth she, ‘my sweet heart,
Have pity on my sorrow’s smart,
And slay me not! Go not away!
O woeful Dido, well-away!’
Quoth she to herself so.
‘O Aeneas, what will you do?
O, now neither love nor bond
You swore me with your right hand,
Nor my cruel death,’ quoth she,
‘May hold you here still with me!
O, on my death have pity!
Truly, my dear heart, truly,
You know full well that never yet,
Insofar as I had wit,
Have I wronged you in thought or deed.
Oh, are you men so skilled indeed
At speeches, yet never a grain of truth?
Alas, that ever showed ruth
Any woman for any man!
Now I see how to tell it, and can,
We wretched women have no art;
For, certainly, for the most part
Thus are we served every one.
However sorely you men groan,
As soon as we have you received
Certain we are to be deceived;
For, though your love last a season,
Wait upon the conclusion,
And look what you determine,
And for the most part decide on.
O, well-away that I was born!
For through you my name is gone
And all my actions told and sung,
Through all this land, on every tongue.
O wicked Fame, of all amiss
Nothing’s so swift, lo, as she is!
O, all will be known that exists
Though it be hidden by the mist.
And though I might live forever,
What I’ve done I’ll save never
From it always being said, alas,
I was dishonoured by Aeneas
And thus I shall judged be:
‘Lo, what she has done, now she
Will do again, assuredly’;
Thus people say all privately.
But what’s done cannot be undone.
And all her complaint, all her moan,
Avails her surely not a straw.
And when she then truly saw
That he unto his ships was gone,
She to her chamber went anon,
And called on her sister Anna,
And began to complain to her,
And said that she the cause was
That made her first love him, alas,
And had counselled her thereto.
But yet, when this was spoken too,
She stabbed herself to the heart,
And died of the wound’s art.
But of the manner of how she died,
And all the words said and replied,
Whoso to know that does purpose,
Read Virgil in the Aeneid, thus,
Or Heroides of Ovid try
To read what she wrote ere she died;
And were it not too long to indite,
By God, here I would it write.
But, well-away, the harm, the ruth
That has occurred through such untruth,
As men may oft in books read,
And see it everyday in deed,
That mere thinking of it pains.
Lo, Demophon, Duke of Athens,
How he forswore himself full falsely
And betrayed Phyllis wickedly,
The daughter of the King of Thrace,
And falsely failed of time and place;
And when she knew his falsity,
She hung herself by the neck indeed,
For he had proved of such untruth,
Lo, was this not woe and ruth?
And lo, how false and reckless see
Was Achilles to Briseis,
And Paris to Oenone;
And Jason to Hypsipyle;
And Jason later to Medea;
And Hercules to Deianira;
For he left her for Iole,
Which led to his death, I see.
How false, also, was Theseus,
Who, as the story tells it us,
Betrayed poor Ariadne;
The devil keep his soul company!
For had he laughed, had he loured,
He would have been quite devoured,
If Ariadne had not chanced to be!
And because she on him took pity,
She from death helped him escape,
And he played her full false a jape;
For after this, in a little while,
He left her sleeping on an isle,
Deserted, lonely, far in the sea,
And stole away, and let her be,
Yet took her sister Phaedra though
With him, and on board ship did go.
And yet he had sworn to her
By all that ever he might swear,
That if she helped to save his life,
He would take her to be his wife,
For she desired nothing else,
In truth, as the book so tells.
Yet, to excuse Aeneas
Partly for his great trespass,
The book says, truly, Mercury,
Bade him go into Italy,
And leave Africa’s renown
And Dido and her fair town.
Then saw I graved how to Italy
Lord Aeneas sailed all swiftly,
And how a tempest then began
And how he lost his steersman,
The steering-oar did suddenly
Drag him overboard in his sleep.
And also I saw how the Sibyl
And Aeneas, beside an isle,
Went to Hell, for to see
His father, noble Anchises.
How he there found Palinurus
And Dido, and Deiphebus;
And all the punishments of Hell
He saw, which are long to tell.
The which whoever wants to know,
He’ll find in verses, many a row,
In Virgil or in Claudian
Or Dante, who best tell it can.
Then I saw graved the entry
That Aeneas made to Italy,
And with Latinus his treaty,
And all the battles that he
Was in himself, and his knights,
Before he had won his rights;
And how he took Turnus’ life
And won Lavinia as his wife,
And all the omens wonderful
Of the gods celestial;
How despite Juno, Aeneas,
For all her tricks, brought to pass
The end of his adventure
Protected thus by Jupiter
At the request of Venus,
Whom I pray to ever save us
And make for us our sorrows light.
When I had seen all this sight
In the noble temple thus,
‘Oh Lord,’ thought I, ‘who made us,
I never yet saw such nobleness
In statuary, nor such richness
As I see graven in this church;
I know not who made these works,
Nor where I am, nor in what country.
But now I will go out and see,
At the small gate there, if I can
Find anywhere a living man
Who can tell me where I am.’
When I out of the door ran,
I looked around me eagerly;
There I saw naught but a large field,
As far as I could see,
Without town or house or tree,
Or bush or grass or ploughed land;
For all the field was only sand,
As fine-ground as with the eye
In Libyan desert’s seen to lie;
Nor any manner of creature
That is formed by Nature
Saw I, to advise me, in this,
‘O Christ,’ I thought, ‘who art in bliss,
From phantoms and from illusion
Save me!’ and with devotion
My eyes to the heavens I cast.
Then was I aware, at the last,
That, close to the sun, as high
As I might discern with my eye,
Me thought I saw an eagle soar,
Though its size seemed more
Than any eagle I had seen.
Yet, sure as death, all its sheen
Was of gold, it shone so bright
That never men saw such a sight,
Unless the heavens above had won,
All new of gold, another sun;
So shone the eagle’s feathers bright,
And downward it started to alight.
By Sir Geoffrey Chaucer
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
The numerals II Sir I to another
alphabet
ABC* confession
DEF feared_***
My bowl spilled my
heart soup

Have Merci Beau-coup
The S was left alone my survival
Do you love my eyes primal
He points widely- tribal his
marriage finger my editorial
Be kinder strawberry sugar high
Do you want me to bite down
on my wafers
-I for the Ivy League his polo loafers

He's my (Lifesavers)
The bow and arrow I met my
dark sparrow what a rainbow
So intrigued my mystery arrival

Why on earth do you want me down?

To focus staying upright but kinda
Tight-Net gown

I am not a falling we have eyes
The face to face prize to be eyed
The Carribean
That Native American
Johnny Depp
When I make my first movie wish

The pirate birdseye rash
Al Dente ziti  Eggplant Parmigiana
The headless horse Dante always neighs
kills me on
Valentine day hearts lucky horseshoe

Eyes have frozen bird's eye
They thought I was
the sweet pea
He knocked me off
My Twitter tweets
  
I am the writer don't flood
My words everything is shaking
This is the Godly earth

So confused we feel-tightly squeezed
The earthquake head over heels down to our knees

She is sipping her tears down
In her chamomile tea thumbs up
The world is evaporating
like the dead sea
Bring everything alive I am
counting to 1*2*3*4*5

Down to my last words
I'm staying alive my life is more than
A Saturday Night Fever
But feeling down to my sunrise
Your heart deeply graved
I will betcha life has
more downs downward

Even when you wake -up upward

No way out of expensive
price tags we need to save
The give or take to remake
We need to finish not at
the end of the line

Where we were left off
Whats yours is mine

Sometimes you think
you are down
But life has you
well planted

To say I do
With his mind enchanted
Let me go up---++

The spirit is a complicated thing
I got wits to carry on anything

I need more guts
Now Bill said I do
Oh! No love me to please
me as I do

My Bill is always waiting
at the upside down table
Like the will-hunting
For God sake who is on first
Going up with the bucket list
Feeling down to adore me
You're going down Oh! Christ
Don't push my buttons
the elevator
I saw your Realtor
going to
The Skyline Hilton

I-O-U trillion hearts that were
down and wasted

Falling eyelashes no surprise
That stock exchange stars fault

Money lip up and honey
eyes down
Do you want this in singing
or shall we both go down
drowning

I'm going to wash that
man right out
? And sent him on
the way he's gone
The brainwashing Scientology
misery loves religious company
Like Humpty dump me
His "snoop dog so sad eating
like Pig whistle steak
Peeping Tom sales week
Anthony Perkins down to seek

The sprinkler shower
Hitchcock scene French Tickler
At Tiffany's Audrey
breakfast jewels Ruby
Hanky Panky pancakes

Like the Amazon in Prime
With fruit slashed smile
Love to love you baby at
Perkins eggs are dreamy
The shoot of ringlets hair screaming
Niagara fall and action roll fall down

You're a shade too hurtful
The red-brown chair or orange perk me
up the crown the Gala gown me

Life is so unkind why
do people smile
Going in and out the door
The rush the high like you could
mop her curls up but your hand down

Feeling inside the apple of the core

The teapot all fenced in pretending
The downspout- you're up-sprout
He's the roundabout -handle
A stranger is routing someone
is always cursing
You're going down

The game sports ball out
And your always looking
down at me when you
talk me out

Like a ring fight
falling black eye
Where is our coffee down
to nothing, she got a pink eye

Her words spilled over
upside down
pineapple printed dress

Having a breakdown
Do you want me down
I am the New York City girl
A clap of party hands
Uptown

A figure of speech when you get
lonely go downtown
To my number
address 13
what a lowdown
In the Wizard of Oz,
the  cowardly lion
crashed the window
My only lip Solo so low

My computer froze my red
rose wilted
I couldn't bring my smile
back to suit you

They were jumping for joy
Do you really want to
love a tomboy
Almond eyes of candy
Grease me down
Sandy
My pretty pink illegally
Blonde pill
Google on down with Bill

Joining the falling down crowd
But no one had a clue my face was
falling down all-stars feeling blue
When we're down and about or feeling all over the place the roundabout we cannot get over something that we go more down and down but be pulling our weight going up but who will fill our heart when you just about had enough
JSL Apr 2014
I loved you once and twice
all for the devil’s asking price
a tender torture longed-for
the graved regards, cold war
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o’er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
****** her ancient solitary reign.

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree’s shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mould’ring heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
The ****’s shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening-care;
No children run to lisp their sire’s return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke:
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow’r,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave,
Awaits alike th’ inevitable hour.
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,
If Memory o’er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where through the long-drawn aisle, and fretted vault,
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

Can storied urn, or animated bust,
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour’s voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death?

Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre;

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of Time, did ne’er unroll;
Chill Penury repressed their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.

Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

Some village-Hampden that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country’s blood.

Th’ applause of list’ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o’er a smiling land,
And read their history in a nation’s eyes,

Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the Gates of Mercy on mankind,

The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
With incense kindled at the Muse’s flame.

Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife
Their sober wishes never learned to stray;
Along the cool sequestered vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

Yet ev’n these bones from insult to protect
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

Their name, their years, spelt by th’ unlettered Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.

For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e’er resigned,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing ling’ring look behind?

On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
Ev’n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
Ev’n in our ashes live their wonted fires.

For thee, who, mindful of th’ unhonoured dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance, by lonely Contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall enquire thy fate,—

Haply some hoary-headed swain may say
“Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn;

“There at the foot of yonder nodding beech,
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,
His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.

“Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Mutt’ring his wayward fancies would he rove;
Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn,
Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.

“One morn I missed him from the customed hill,
Along the heath, and near his fav’rite tree;
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he:

“The next, with dirges due in sad array
Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne,—
Approach and read, for thou can’st read, the lay
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.”

                THE EPITAPH

Here rests his head upon the lap of earth
A Youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown:
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
And Melancholy marked him for her own.

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to Misery (all he had) a tear,
He gained from Heaven (’twas all he wished) a friend.

No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
(There they alike in trembling hope repose,)
The ***** of his Father and his God.
I want to descent the well,
I want to climb the walls of Granada,
To gaze at the heart graved
By the dark stylus of waters.

The wounded child moaned
With a crown of frost.
Ponds, cisterns and fountains
Raised their swords in the air.
Ay what fury of love, what a wounding edge,
what nocturnal murmurs, what white deaths!
What deserts of light went destroying
the sand-dunes of dawn!
The child was alone
Wth the sleeping town in his throat.
A fountain that rises from dream
guarded him from thirsts of seaweed.
The child and his agony face to face,
Were two green entangled showers.
The child stretched on the ground
his agony bent on itself.

I want to descent the well,
I want to die my death by mouthfuls,
I want to fill my heart with moss,
To see the one wounded by water.
stone the bear Apr 2016
Where you see weeds,
I see blooming trees.
Old flowers,
new leaves.

Buried by drifts of snow,
yet something beckons them to grow.

The transforming seed
stretches
with a desire to breathe.

What do you see?
Grave of the dead?
or tomorrow’s flower bed?

Death comes
and death goes,
yet the crazy daisy’s
wild roots never froze.

Somewhere, within her,
the plan was already seeded.
The simple truth?
The light was all she really needed.

This law paralyzed her with desire,
to see nothing but nature’s unseen fire.

She laid and she wait
as the bitter winds blew.
But in all of the darkness,
nothing from her grew.

Do you believe in time and in fate?
She pondered as she lay and wait.

In her shell, she is saved.
What lays beyond, may leave her graved.

Is there such a thing as better tomorrows?
She wallows,
wading,
in the mud of her endless sorrows.

She did not,
could not,
fully understand:
the price that must be paid
in order to be grand.

As a seed,
she thought she knew.
She had something left,
yet to do.

It required her break to her very core,
in the hopes of be coming some thing far more.

She emerged from her old,
cold,
worn shell,
seeking the warmth and comfort
of a new place to dwell.

She must give one last, epic fight.
Squaring off,
this time, on the side of sunlight.

"Make like a bandit
and run from your cell!
Never look back
and you’ll never fail."

She solely set sight
on its’ captivating rays.
Gleaming and unfolding
to enjoy the beautiful days.

In this attempt,
her core begin to extend.
Allowing her to appreciate,
and bask in all the sun had to send.

Standing tall and growing crazed,
she basks in the fragrance of the cold, passing days.

She heard all the stories
every leaf had to tell.
Even if it was true,
that to their grave
they eventually fell.

She tried with all her might.
The seed saw it through.
With diligence and perseverance,
so could you.

Although at times,
I know it’s difficult to see.
When going through a change,
the truth will eventually set you free.
{even if it feels a little strange}
When these changes do arise,
there’s always a brighter side.
Your time in darkness makes you wise,
if you choose to enjoy the ride.

You are the delicate flower.
Take your time,
to truly understand
your heart’s eternal fire,
buried deep under the sand.

Then set foot to build your tower,
to match your own deeply rooted desires.

Become the beautiful
delicate
flower.

*

But nonetheless,
The seasons will change,

Always remember, September,
and there must always be December,
along with many April’s rains.

And as the seed,
before it can bloom;
you as well,
will see many
hours of gloom.

mKp (3/24)
Chris T Mar 2013
In a dreamlike state
I submerge into the
Deep, deep waters of your
Eyes. Mystic portals so
Intense that by my throat
I’m strangled forward.
Images strange yet
Sweet, but it’s not right,
I believe, just isn’t,
When I’m near they
Appear. Leave me in
Peace! At first it was
some infatuation
but now it is a
sickness, obsession.
As I put pen to
Paper and letter
After letter graved,
Tears of blood splatter
Across; because of
You, because of you.
Written in 2011. This is an old one so excuse the angst. I look at this, I look at how my writing has changed.
Ben Jones Feb 2013
A doctor who lost his dear wife
Took to probing the secrets of life
His intention was pure
Though success premature
Lead him quickly to trouble and strife

The notion popped into his head
To dig up the recently dead
With his stitching and knife
He created a life
Which promptly absconded and fled

He looked like the worst of mankind
But was blessed with a brilliant mind
He lurked in the wood
For as long as he could
But he yearned for the touch of his kind

To the doctor he went to proclaim
That his plight was of Frankenstein's blame
And he said he'd begin
To **** off his kin
Unless Frankenstein made him a dame

So the doctor stole bodies and stitched
With a frenzy, the man was bewitched
For his son would be saved
Once this woman, de-graved
Was alive and the monster was hitched

But a face at the window appeared
As his second success was neared
The creature was grinning
His eyeballs were spinning
In his trousers, a cobra had reared

So the doctor was filled up with guilt
And he tore up the woman he'd built
So the very next day
In a horrible way
His son was all strangled and ****'t

The doctor pursued his creation
Across countries with growing frustration
He went for a stroll
In the southern most pole
A long way off from civilization

The going was chilly and slow
But he finally caught up his foe
The creature was greater
He killed his creator
And buggered off into the snow

The End
///
Look! My friend
It is true that
my existence will be graved after death-
you forget me,
as speed squander particle existence--
earth could not remember--
either it will be deformed
or dissolved---

Memory decays as rolling stone-
forget and fade
twinkle childhood,
as daffodils wither at evening---

Today's child
the father of tomorrow
Aye reminisces the past and decide the future,
today's peppy stream with its chime,
tomorrow's buried river-
only articulate history

Civilization, culture and fashion,
those are transfigured by time-
I see, truth has grown as a lie
as the sun rises in the west,
men have made the conversion to lie-
as politics become poly tricks-

Igneous to metamorphic rock,
by the process of nature with time-
the ultimate truth

From summer to winter,
winter to spring -
pouring--
Sweet sweat-
snowflakes-
cuckoo sings
season changeover and being--

But aftermath
my friend,
two things are still ******,
untouched,
my love--
my soul--
the power of God----
///
@Musfiq us shaleheen
My Love, My soul -
The Power of God
Hermes Varini Jul 2020
Once across a Caledonia dreary, whose Echo,
Amid the Jötnar, was MAN, I wandered hurt and weary,
Until yon Glare, with deadly Rage flaming,
Lo! I beheld, next to the Iron Gates
Of a long-forgotten Ruin named still
After incorruptible Titanium.

A noble, finely engraved feudal Vest,
Under a Luminary invisible, implacable,
Shone thither with a Glare fiercer, methought,
Than that of the rubies at warlike Valhalla,
Amid Walls time-eaten, kingly Banners, and proud Towers,
And dwelt there in melting Titanium.

Deep memories of martial Woe
Like an arrow piercing my *****, and aimed
Thro' the Night with lethal Glare,
No barrier was there to be found
Between my Past yielding and this conquering Robe
With Runes marked deep in Titanium.

Thus I remembered having once graved,
In revered silence and solitary anger,
Into the Glare, within the Hills, upon the Dust,
The Emblem of the OVERMAN,
Which thou may again now see gleaming,
With pride Superhuman, o'er this garb of Titanium.

My Enemy Wraith haunting me no more,
Into a most profane dying hour,
I walked forth, to wear of the Armour of the Glare the worth,
And felt, intensely, from the Zenith of a most fiery Heaven,
The Rays from the Stars imbuing my Very Gore
With blinding, rageful Titanium.

Hereupon, with Cuirass thus worn, I bethought me of boldly ascending,
With heavy Claymore drawn, in a Guard of the Hawk,
At Ultima Thule, of the Bluish Glare, the Hidden Rock,
And at its scorching Crest, with Blade o'er me flashing, widened my gathering Breast,
The Largest Mirror, the Highest Beacon, aye,
Before the wild Blaze molten down in Titanium.
Of this narrative-philosophical poem of mine, as focusing on the dichotomy between man and the antithetical Overman, a semiotic variant exists. The narrator meets at length with a surpassing mirroring force.
Ben Jones Oct 2015
A doctor who lost his dear wife
Took to probing the secrets of life
His intention was pure
Though success premature
Lead him quickly to trouble and strife

The notion popped into his head
To dig up the recently dead
With his stitching and knife
He created a life
Which promptly absconded and fled

He looked like the worst of mankind
But was blessed with a brilliant mind
He lurked in the wood
For as long as he could
But he yearned for the touch of his kind

To the doctor he went to proclaim
That his plight was of Frankenstein's blame
And he said he'd begin
To **** off his kin
Unless Frankenstein made him a dame

So the doctor stole bodies and stitched
With a frenzy, the man was bewitched
For his son would be saved
Once this woman, de-graved
Was alive and the monster was hitched

But a face at the window appeared
As his second success was neared
The creature was grinning
His eyeballs were spinning
He dribbled and lustfully leered

So the doctor was filled up with guilt
And he tore up the woman he'd built
So the very next day
In a horrible way
His son was all strangled and ****'t

The doctor pursued his creation
Across countries with growing frustration
He went for a stroll
In the southern most pole
A long way off from civilization

The going was chilly and slow
But he finally caught up his foe
The creature was greater
He killed his creator
And buggered off into the snow

The End
I've never gotten flowers, not much to say
In love once, still can't beg to stay
I've never gotten flowers, but oh.. to dream of lilies
How the return of happiness will ever feel?
"Hold onto your baby breaths,"
They never given me any
All I ever wanted was a tulip
The same way my father use to gift my mother
Smiling while I hide behind him excitingly

Dreaming of  my once upon a dream as snowdrops grow
Sunflowers, how beautiful they could be
Joyfully restoring oxygen into my lungs
You never knew cause roses are the trend
Honestly, you never asked
Left, right you're gone
Not a rose in graved, they're all out of sight
Its alright I'll get gladiolus
Swimming in the lilies valley one day

Memory, Not a Flower girl

By:Zoulaikha
writing this was something I felt like it needs to be heard. I also played around with the meaning of each type of flower..
Lilly: purity, heavenly, happy, wealth, pride.."but oh.. to dream of lilies
How the return of happiness will ever feel?"
Baby breaths: everlasting love... ""hold on to your baby breaths" They never given me any"
Tulips represent respect, sunshine in your smile, passion..."The same way my father use to gift my mother"
Snowdrops: new beginnings, hope, rebirth and the ability to overcome challenges..."Dreaming of  my once upon a dream as snowdrops grow."
Sunflowers: long lasting happiness.."Sunflowers, how beautiful they could be"
With roses I went with how common they are but even tho they mean I love you:  "You never knew cause roses are the trend ,Honestly, you never asked, Left, right you're gone, Not a rose in graved, they're all out of sight"
Gladiolus: little sword as in strength ..."Its alright I'll get gladiolus"
Lilies valley: joy, love, sincerity, happiness and luck but also the lily of the valley contains compounds that affect the heart since it poisons...so if I win and gain my strength I may be at the end finding happiness at my last breath.."Swimming in the lilies valley one day"
flynt Apr 2013
I reach into my pocket, and pull out some Autumn leaves.
They're damped red, brown, yellow, and some green.
They smell like musky air after rain.
I reach into the ocean and pull out some seashells.
One looked like it had a heart in-graved,
and the other had a face.
I almost got hit by a car that day, but I
think they must be lucky.
I reach into my past, and I pull out my heart.
I put it in my pocket along with the musky leaves,
and the shells from the sea,
because all I do is
reach and reach and reach.
whatthefuck/ baaaaddd
KathleenAMaloney May 2016
This Evening
Your Words
Falling
Falling

Flirtations of
Echoing Heartbeat
Graved
By Another Time

Drifting Downward Now
So Sunderland
As To Merge
In Still Waters

Lights Shooting Star
Blossoming
Moonlit Waters

Forever
Forever
Chorusing

Sweetened
Waters
Of The
Mind
Poured
Free
Spirit
Ananya zootz Jun 2015
Click.
Arms around with a profound smile
Pearl teeth reflecting happytimes
Click
Blanketed now,anchored to my bed
Alone and this time no shine

Clear like blue cotton sky your eyes
Perfect like truth your smile
Temptation of your sugarcoated words
Marshmallow soft full your lips
How could have I simply be in a corner?
And resist myself to not touch
What I loved , you.

Like the new morning glory
Your candle lit up face brightened me
The whispered words buttered me
Like the softness of peach
Your fluttering touch melted me
Like a burning wax

Barging through the air
Whipped the breath out of me
Call me I wished you could save me
Your hair brought the shade of sweetness
How could I have simply be in a corner?
And resist myself not to do the only thing
I do? Love you.

Though you are cold in earth
And sky cries with screams and tears
Its me who feels sick
Graved alive.
Why.
Poetic T Jan 2020
I ain't got no signal,
              to tell your boys that

your shallow, shallow graved

beyond that your silent and I
                    throw gravel of silent
words over your face.

what that's all your worth.

I ain't got no signal to #hashtag
            you been died
                      after I shot you full

of body shots of verbal body shocks..



I never got your followers on my phone cos
            flakiness doesn't get followed but
                                 just shallow graved.

I poured water over you, cos a cap isn't worth
   finishing you off,

                     na my words collateral damage

on your form your slumped
                    blooded but no blood falling.

You need to realise you haven't got a shoot off,
            and your riddled with insecurities that
    

                  you and yours will have to either
   be buried in shallow graves or respect my
                                                            word around town.
Robin Carretti May 2018
The
camera
on
me_
Modern Crimes to be
Or you forgot
Set the mood
Or set the stage
My home
Two lovers oversee

Distant
lover
home
My
head
met his sunset
The love reset

Don't hock
my best
China
South Carolina
cultured
Pearl
Ever finer
24 karat
Gold one-sided
Movie blinded

Pick
up the ((Ring))
Molly
Ringwald
Artist
Telemarketers
They cannot act
Like Bald eagles
The Bee Gees
Staying alive
Baby boomers

Place me set me
Marathon
runners
Free me
Bride and Dog Groomer
Barking
abilities

"Beverly Hill of Billies"
Five
willow
tree's
With
anyone
else
But for me?

"Whimpering *******"

To dream on
Singer Arrow=Smith

How much
he could
have
loved you yeah?

Mans best movie
and dog bark ee-me
Woof La femme bakery

Movie slavery
Not one ounce
of your undivided
attention

That bad movie

Webbed into a mesh
Monochrome
Flesh to flesh

*** Chromosome

Get me geared up
So willing movie set
His way
no way out
So pay up
"Coffee Creed"
movie cut
my lip

Harvest
pumpkin-head
We
mapped
his
Pitt bulls
long
tongue
In her
******* Jacks
Cheerleaders
Well packed
Honey Comb
Movie on the limb

Pocket comb
She left her heart
Movie set
tombstone
Hands
came out
Bella Italian gravy
That
((Hotshot))
graved me
Honey engraved
Bunches
of scary wits
Bunches of Honey
Oats
No redemption

College drunk dorm
Mega babes 3d glasses
Griswall honeymoon
vacation
light my Fire Morrison
Burned me house

A-D
Dump her
disorder
One  pill
makes
your  
movie
Eyes
stone
killer
Screen
LARGER_

Purple hazed me
underestimated
how to  
raise Movie  family

Do what
the
Romans
do drink
***** off
Sweet
Cherry
wine

Roaming hands
Not a valentine
Poem set
She-devil
Styrophome
I Smartphone
Apple-Computer
Made-man dumber

But no one listens!!
Maybe $$$ pants
I need to fasten

The robot
Alexa
Strike
Lotto lucky
Charge him
On his Visa

Next
door girl
Actress Mona
Homebody
His Bodyguard
Is home
Watching?
Diggity Dogs
barking up
Funeral home
Rock and
Roll hall of fame
Cleveland
playing a
game
dead
dying

Count to five trying
Only five fingers left
What happened in
the movie
set?
The movie can be boring old man snoring, please!! We need to make it fun I needed to perk it up a bit so it
fits inside my poem get your buttered up popcorn
KathleenAMaloney Jul 2016
This Evening
Your Words
Falling
Falling

Flirtations of
Echoing Heartbeat
Graved
By Another Time

Drifting Downward Now
So Sunderland
As To Merge
In Still Waters

Lights Shooting Star
Blossoming
Moonlit Waters

Forever
Forever
Chorusing

Sweetened
Waters
Of The
Mind
Poured
Free
Spirit
AMOGH MEHROTRA Jan 2017
Emptiness created by persistent fear,
The mellow heart of little emotional sheer,
Listen to me the brain said,
But the heart was mad,
About that one touch,
The magic touch of sacred hands,
It was difficult to decide,
Who will win the war of existence,
The fear or the love of gradience,
But if it still causes mayhem in oneself,
Then it cant be termed as intelligent radiance,
I became graved once again,
All I have lost yet found everything once again,
The mind told the starbirds,
Be back the home is not far nerds
My Queen-
I knew when I saw you for the first time that night-
Something in my gut said you might be my wife-
Standing by the poolside looking so fine-
I knew that one day I would have to make you mine-
I still can’t believe that night that we shared-
The magic in the air cause destiny was there-
And there I was so scared an alone-
The king on this throne without a queen to call home-
But you saved me from my sins and I recognized all the love that you bring-
I’m grateful to have you always by my side-
Riding through this life like we’re Bonnie and Clyde-
Baby understand for the rest of my life-
That you will be the one thing I would never sacrifice-
Through the strife-through the stress-through the mess-you’re the best-
My decision to love you I can never regret-
Baby-
You know I love you-
You-
Know one else above you-
Its true-
Forever I will be here for you-
And no one else before you-
Now journey with me through time and through space-
Finally reached a place that can never be replaced-
And I’m standing that the gates-
The Lord is in my face-
Explaining my achievements and fixing my mistakes-
Inhaling your love with every breath that I take-
Sharing a family with the children that we raise-
And when I look into your eyes I know I’m ok-
And for the first time in my life, I’m seizing the day-
I finally understand-so I’m giving my thanks-
Cause you’re the sunshine that’s clearing up the rain-
And when I listen to your voice I’m feeling no pain-
I’m honest from the go-so my heart will be explained-
I’ll focus on our life till the day that I’m graved-
I’ll treat you like a queen and never a slave-
Stand toe to toe with anyone who tries to take my place-
My decision to love you could never be contained-
Jowlough May 2016
A thing of the graved past
Is not relevant at all.
But things you did not disclose
Is a deep dark nightmare call.

There was this noble boy
Who you've said have courted you.
You said he's a good friend
And he liked you.

I see he loves cars and travel
More often than you do,
A noble inheritor of a family firm
With an atlethic frame and hue.

But,  the way you describe him
Sounded like he has no mere value.
And me: I believed in the light
Of your tongues' sweet fondue.

Of all this precious time,
My mind have held your stories
Grasped and chained
Optimistic and unworried

Of all this time, doubts.
Yes doubting was never an option
Nor an attempt to juice
Even the slightest blood potion

Until Unexpectedly time came,
Yes on your twentieth birthday,
Expectant was not in the thoughts
Of positivism I've had for years.

Unaware and extremely honest
Smiling with a chance to navigate
Your smart phone's veins
Having a funny faith.

Until someone peeped and popped
From the large screen landscape.
And I never knew
That it was the pivot of my life
Nor a wrist sliding through a knife.

The SMS said, "I love you".
Then blah blah, "missed you"
And all of the mumbled I've seen,
Numbed my soul and ego.

I got wounded. Deeply wounded.
Every word, there's a stab
In my heart, cutting every veins
Feeling the friction and I rub

My eye, it has water I see flowing,
You loved him more than the sun
And I see the young persona of you
Blinkering infront the gun

Like a gun, Pointed at my temples
I've found my self humbly destroyed,
As I knew you missed the guy,
And how you were overjoyed.

Devasted in every word
Knees are trembling with grief
I never knew that I could,
Incorporate you with disbelief.

And as you came in the room
I immediately handed your phone,
And pulled the "surprise" curtain
And greeted you with a nice tone.

"Happy birthday, Darling"
I love you so much. With tears,
Streaming, spine shivering,
Caught off guard by the latch.

Then I stayed. Yes I'm invinsible
And strong as a boxer in the ring.
I've faced your family
Despite of the heavy sting.

Then the lights activated
And someone whispered me
And said "hey sweetie"
"The breakfast is ready"

I quickly jumped up out the bed,
And sip my good coffee
As I think of memories
Escaping the reality.

Looking at the kids
My heart beats faster than the bullet
As I look at your picture
In my treasure box's closet.

Then my wife whispered to me,
"Hunny, who is she?"
I said she is an ex giflfriend
Who cheated me nasty

As my wife and I are alone
She asked me, "why?"
I wrote this poem,
And I almost died.

Then I woke up again
Realizing it was just another dream;
I've found my 26 year old self
Decided to empty this bin

A bin full of trash
From memories who hurted my home
My heart and my brain woke up
Feeling pained and all alone.
Art in my head is dying and the passion is hanging in the hole of a needle.
Cory Childs Sep 2011
If you cast truly, king fisher of men,
Show care with connection, rare, meaningful song;
Withered by loss, I cannot comprehend
Why seed should be made to stay only so long.
Feeling for reason, flowing stone divides,
Severing seasons of constant refrain.
Though I deem sep'rate the day from the night,
Singular cycles are all that remain.
O, to make matter, to spirit up beach,
Drawn by some beauty, so vibrantly graved!
Roaring, I'd grasp what's been kept beyond reach,
Breathing new life into what should be saved;
     But presence of peace neither soothes nor forestalls
     When what order brings must be destined to fall.
Zay Bliss Apr 2014
There will always be that one moment in life when ask yourwelf those fateful questions, "What is my Purpose, how can I find it"?

Ramanticism reached beyond beyond,
Darkening and lightening the world,
But it wasn't a purpose that i had written down it was my feelings that i had referled.
Just my emotions Drawing in others and making a subsequential bond.
It was either happy or sad i had blindly written down,
But it was not a purpose, for this I longed.
So I was nothing but determined to search for mine,  I was lost in a realm of blank,
For a purpose deep down I needed to find.
Endless nothingness, as if alone at last, to find my purpose before my time come to pass.
So lost, and still wanderingg, even from the highest reaches, There was no purpose in sight,
I even went deep down inside myself and challenged my nightmares to a fight.
Still lost if not even deeper in the darkness of the pit,  soon approaching destination point and my burdens making me deadly sick, I will not dig my grave, and I cannot need help, it is me who must rescue myself, find my purpose and then be saved,
Not taken by any other or anyone else, if so, failed accomplishements, I will be internally graved.
  Ive fallin, to deep, to dreary, to steep, nearly succumbed to defeat.
When all seemed gone and I was forever lost, it approached me and seemed fragile, bearly to be ceased, almost nothing was there to permit. When I was lost in a search, it was there, fading and just wanting to live.
I realized it isnt me who needed to find my purpose.
It was my purpose who needed to find me to exist.

                            Without you there is no purpose.
drive me up north where the ****** pierce the sky with devilish cries
two children lost, each descending from the sky
contains a secret and inner desire
four legged monster crawl up my thigh
deteriorate under the hands you once saw golden and in flesh
your feeble bones are no match for me.
eyelids will drop in the midst of a beautiful sunrise
symphonies of blue, pink and grey
and we laugh like lost lovers
stuck between light and dark
when you finally take off my two piece white dress you will unravel the universe before you
a cosmic eruption between ribs and thighs
wet ******* and lace in graved in skin
cherry on top with a strawberry milkshake
a spectacular explosion.

-your golden babe

conceptcollection
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2017
for JmF


some of us live 16 floors above sea level
upon arrogant Jericho walls that can't ever harrumph
Humptydumpty come tumbling all the way down to be
@see level

some of us on concrete flooring,
to an asphalt street mooring,
sleeping safe in a baby's crib bed,
firm mattress soundly, and firmly foolish believing,
no earth belching upheaval, no way Pompei here,
could ere put them at risk of
awakening beneath and below the
@see level

some of us on four wheels,
calling car, trailer, shelter, home sweetest,
having conceptually realized that
real liberty is the mobility of the mindful
when cruising
@see level

most of us envy those who live upon gently
rocking seductive waves lapping  
forgetting that sometimes
the water and the mind demands
your presence down below,
brooking no excused delay,
to an en-graved invitation to meet
@see level

some sleep upon grass soil dirt
not our own, lacking title,
nonetheless, calling it my old Kentucky entitlement,
though not by any state deemed as mine,
for what is home ownership,
upon a sea tempest solid all share,
that owns us, when
@see level

it matters so little where we reside -
foliage coverage, fallout shelter, lean-to,
an in-ground swimming pool or a root cellar,
sheets pulled up to underneath
our see level chins -

it is our minds ever waving  
and surely ever wavering,
deciding for us
where we truly live and how(l)
and never @where,
however modestly,
we distinguish our selves
when we are mindful
@see level

palace or park -
I've slept in them all -
as master and owner,
guest and slave,
in the dungeon and the presidential suite,
home to the haves resting precarious on the backs
of the have-nots
way above the
@see level

but all true men true
acknowledge the surety of their mind for
@ see level
true north intuitive in our common compass
and life's station matters -
not a lousy dollar's worth of whit

cause
we all lie prone in this mind's zone,
in equality, upon the good earth,
beneath god and his changeable erratic sky,
@see level

free floating midst the mind's insightful
signature quality of light hitting the waters of our fluids,
window wonderful for concentrated clarity
for @see level comes
the equality of reality
_•_
any message you send can and may become a poem
_•_
3:03am avril 3 two nought one seven
@see level
celeste fuma Jul 2018
blue lilies
now;wilted and zapped
petals of hibiscuses;
frosting and drooping
pressed between our pages
stenching and staining
them edges
bleeding


the flesh stenches
the putrid blooms
carve squealing wounds
the blood engulfs the heart
that deliquesces


the crevices are graved
then the heart deliquesces
and falls into two
down/a rotting corpse
it oozes into


the disgust of existence
creeping through shredded layers
of shroud
covering the withering bones,
mass
and
emotions


searing
it melts eventually-the shroud
until it reaches the bones
crashes them there
spilling the liquids/
all that is left bare
is already atrophying


and i guess that's the difference between dying and rotting
dying at least leaves you
the voids to hold onto
to be nostalgic for what was held
dying-paints,hues from the ashes that blew


but rotting
eats away all that existed
and snaps leaving
detritus,stinking
odor that i need  


the craft of us
all worn out
the fragments dis plumed through holocausts
the rebellion in ruination  
and the twitched cold feet
each breath i've took,now smothering
you,me,and everything



the reflections,contradictions
intoxicating,caging charcoal abstracts
punctured and ruptured
all constituents consuming and decaying now
every treble
so heavy


freezing not frozen
perishing not lighter


maybe these moments
-they never stop
cause right there in the midst
everything rots.
-/and we let it

~d
McKenzie Kohls May 2015
About this time every year the flowers start to bloom and the thought of you starts to pop up in my head again.
I can not even look at lilac trees the same.
You once told me I was beautiful like a lilac tree.
It sounds silly and I know but those words are forever graved into a little chalk board in my brain.
Little did you know they were going  to haunt me like a sour after taste as I watch mine grown in my front yard.
Happiness I would let the world know
the griefs would be buried in my mind
when I take the last bow
would love to leave a joyous trail behind.

Smiles I would let the world see
the tears would lie hidden in my eyes
when the earthly bond sets me free
would love to leave a memory of sunrise.

Dark nights they are all mine
rivers of sorrow in my veins
I would tell you only of sunshine
would love to leave no trace of my pains.

Little happiness is all I would expose
my sketchbook of each silver line
when the days for me come to close
the graved sadness would be all mine.
SB Oct 2017
A little lassie constantly wanted to shoot for the sky
Tasting the silver lining was the only thing on her mind
The notion excited her soul when she gazed him in her funny books
On Christmas Eve the secret Santa made her wish come true
For the first time, the red cape with her initials graved lifted her spirits high
All her attempts were to impersonate him from dusk to dawn running around
Just like SUPERMAN she flaunted her red cape desired to jump high
As she aged, his posters covered her block her time was invested in gathering his articles
Now she wanted to be with him forevermore
As the idea was absurd she outset to look for his double the one who would own her globe and abide to shield it
The one in red cape and krypton afraid was nowhere to be seen
The exploration came to an end when she realized that the SUPERMAN she was looking must be on another planet
Trying to save his dying Krypton unaware about her existence
But she decided to rest ... perhaps someday her Superman will stopover his new cosmos
I keep rubbing it
It won't come off
The image of you is engrained in my mind
Graved in my stone heart
With patience and determination you
Picked up a rock and rubbed my skin raw
No amount of scratching will make you disappear
Like stain on my heart
I wish I could rip it out
Rip you out
Of my life
Desire Nov 2020
In a dream, warnings heed
From the pit, my soul - he keeps
Awake, I pray, and see his face
I shout of joy, and sing him praise.

My sins are spared,
Perversions pardoned,
My ways are not repaid to me
For, from the pit, my soul is kept
My life is lit, and I - redeemed

Chance after chance, and time again
Into the pit, his hand extends
Pulls us up, turns us about
Not graved to perish, but to live devout.

His mercies anew; his truths revealed
Saved from the pit, sown in his fields
His grace - sufficient, where sin spewed its spout.
His love has no end - my soul has no doubt.
For, from the pit, my soul - he keeps.
My life is lit, and I - redeemed.

-  Desire Ramos, 11/27/20
reflections on Job 33
what happened to you?
that you were so afraid of messing up
these words mean nothing
and being thrown to the dust
because all these gifts and memories take nothing to the test
hyper visions of misery heightened, the wise are unknown
curses and shadows brew 'round their heads
or stars and spaceships from the planet of the undead

what happedned to you that you felt so empty yet so mad and angry?
a raging fire of something unseen, something unknown
far from your reach
they say expeirence and memories shape who we are
but i cant recall a gooddamn thing that made us who we are

what happedned that you could take that bullet to the head placing that gun inside of their hand?
a trigger, a flash, a ringing sound about
yet nothing splatters at the wall because we know once and for all
that what happened to you happened to me and no matter how much you think it might be
our names will never be graved in that stone
for one
one can only
die
a l o n e
Honestly just a ramble of prose...
Mark Lecuona Jun 2015
There is never a chapter to write
When your life is not a book
What you choose to reveal is easy
If only they knew where to look

The high place of mountain tops
Or depths where ships are graved
Are no match for what I cannot see
But know that discovery has saved

I’m ready to know
What is inside
And how far to go

While birds fly
And flowers grow
What I am now
Is neither above or below

In the veins of my mistakes
The fascination of you drowns alone
I thought to find you but myself I am lost
Except I know exactly where I have gone

I’m ready to know
What is inside
And how far to go

While birds fly
And flowers grow
What I am now
Is neither above or below

There is no gentle tragedy
Or horrible calm
But where we ask our questions
Is the answer to where we belong
Song lyrics
Elizabeth Jun 2014
Depression
Is a like a thin thread
Delicately sown though
Each thought that passes
You begin to feel as
If your mind has been thrown
At an incredible speed
Straight into a black hole
Far beyond the reaches
Of any humans imagination
You wonder if there's
A miracle somewhere
Waiting with your name in graved
On the side
Just to surprise
You at the end of that
Deep darkness
Open to suggestions
Worried not!
               Tears no more.

Graved not!
               Sorrows gone.

Laugh and sing
Just say a loud
My hands then.
Evan Stephens Jan 2021
Embers stinging the clouds,
soot settling on a line -

black flake rain
is stirring.

Here is a new sleep,
where I find myself.

Laying in the cascade,
the phone's young flood

assembles your hair -
I'm reminded of my flight

across the salt,
to the place where you are.

This city's graved flecks
are forgotten; I've left them

for a green kingdom
in another pattern.

— The End —