"groanings" poems
I'll drag you to hades to dwell with me
In the garden of Persephone.
We'll dine on her fruit so we shall be
Lost in each other for eternity.
Elysium shall hold no sway with us
We'd rather watch the sufferings of Tantalus
Souls crossing Acheron will provide
Our music, a tortured lullaby
Their lamentations won't put us to sleep
Nor will their groanings cause us to weep
But they'll fill us with fury rooted in lust
We'll lie down on blood soaked fields the color of rust
Then we'll journey through Asphodel
As we travel back to our home in hell
I with you and you with me
In the garden of Persephone
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
Why is it that we never truly appreciate
The value of someone until it is too late?
A hundred flowers on a wintry grave site
A torrent of tears cried at midnight
Groanings of morning dawn prayers' sighs
Added together cannot ever realize
A past that has passed
Alas, that weighing debt
Of unreconciled regret, becomes a treasure
From which we measure
The relationships of today, tomorrow
Maturing into overflowing blessings
From that was empty sorrow
Jan 29, 2011
Jan 29, 2011 at 1:08 AM UTC
Starting over is never easy, especially when you've been dropped off
in the middle of nowhere.
How do I survive?
Looking around all I see are trees and dirt.
Far away I see what appears to be sand,. cactus and alittle village on the horizon.
It's evening, darkness is will soon be approaching.
Some type of shelter is needed, it's a musssssst.
I start wacking at trees and digging up dirt, will it be enough?
Will I be able to construct this dwelling before night?
Finally!
This dirt shack will have to do.
It's pitch black.
Is this a dream or a nightmare?
I hear frightening sounds,
Groanings
Someone's trying to beat down my door.
I go out of the side door, to take a look
I see a Zombie creature, I turn to run and see a creeper trying to sneak
up behind me.
Why did I venture out?
Had to fight.
I'm tired, made it back though.
A bed sure would be nice.
It's a jungle.
What am I doing out here?
MINECRAFT!!!!!
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 1:50 PM UTC
this time different,
the crafting, the words knitted,
care taken, no quips or easy rhymes,
metaphors few, but the stitching is yet
rhythmic, disciplined,
beholden to its construct
~~~
yesterday,
spoke of the more and the ever less,
and the alpha seas restorative,
today,
*the ****** quick and the ever still*
the beating of jumpsuit orange fabric, wind-whipped,
musical homage to the terrifying
silence of a battlefield,
your utility belt,
body parts and soul silences,
a composition of what was
and what will now never be
you were there
you are there
witness-combatant,
no denying the voyeured carnage
of a human self destructing,
or being destructed in a way
**********turned you on,
worse, temptingly familiar
the horror meets you, it recognizes, locates
its place within that is stored close by,
where you keep it just close enough to surface
for quick retrieval
you postulate, pose, clap hands to heads,
make groanings awful, rethinking fearful pictures
I don't believe in free will
I don't believe in free
I don't believe in will
there is good and there is no good
there is the quick and the still
the still comes fast and stays longer,
the quick lasts longer, the obvious now
always seconds of too long,
all implausibly undenied and factually reversed
I hang myself crudely,
my throat slit quick,
and the still images that follows
everlasting and unerasable,
no matter how quickly,
how often temples hard squeezed
I see the images,
the quick and the still
they won't let go of me
text me that you know,
exactly what I mean,
know what I know
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 11:27 PM UTC
I have no appetite
for pronouncements, platitudes
declarations, meditations and revelations
no patience for wisdom
and cogitations and much worse
regurgitations
no stomach for moanings and
groanings
musings, and working out meanings
much less about how your groin is today
I'd just like to
(like Renoir, if I may,
just focus and work)
not to be anything, no attempt
to be
just what is natural and easy
play and laugh
and when it's time
just yawn and sleep
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
I do not write to enlighten others or to broadcast my own perspectives. I write neither to remember nor to be remembered. Writing is not my ambition; it is not my escape; it is not my hobby. It is my addiction. I write to stave the shakes and pains that plague me when I do not. Writing indulges the demon fighting inside me, that creature clawing eternally at the bars of my soul. Though I try obediently to contain its groanings, to sit quietly in the verbal single dimension of society, the need cannot be ignored indefinitely. Eventually I must concede, must let it claw and tear gluttonously until what was once blank sheet now bleeds my deepest and most lucid revelations. I know that when this purging is over I will be left hollow, pensive and raw, but once I have begun I can only continue viciously, can only drink the carnage that I pen and savor it on my tongue, gurgling and laughing. Each work I create strengthens the obsession and claims another share of my existence, so that I live shadow-like between writings, playing a half-hearted charade. Like every addict, I secretly pine for the day when the game will reach its peak – when finally my demon will emerge triumphantly, sword in hand, and leave my dry and useless body lying in a gummy puddle of deep red inspiration.
Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 3:17 AM UTC
something is stirring. keeping me awake.
whirling inside me.
the groanings of my prayers that can't be expressed in words.
i have to let it out.
my spirit is clawing out in hunger.
reaching for food from Your hands.
crying out to learn the real meaning of Love.
the strength to smile at the unfaithful
the courage to welcome the desolate.
my whole life, i've been near dead on the inside.
knowing the basics, the foundations of You
but never up to par
never where i should be
i haven't yet felt the fire in my bones,
the outpouring holiness,
the purity of my cleansed soul,
but i can sense it's so near.
named after wisdom, but can't learn the second and third steps.
i have felt that i must have been doing something wrong
for so long
i can't shut it out
i can't turn a deaf ear to it any longer
my God
you have known me from the womb, you have loved me before i was even conceived
a babe, called Your daughter
who could ask a greater priveledge?
and yet
i sit.
and strain my ears
and rasp at my throat but there are no words
to truly describe these feelings.
rest assured
you'll get no sleep from my eyes
until these holes are filled
until these flaws are made whole
until these walls are broken down
when the day comes where You make Yourself real to me
the day i've been longing for
the day i hear Your will and your power
your unfailing love
i will become Your servant at the highest extent of my ability
i will not falter
i will stay faithful
i can't afford
to stray from You
ever again.
Love is near.
Love is REAL.
Love is here to stay.
Forever.
I WILL STAY FAITHFUL
Aug 16, 2010
Aug 16, 2010 at 11:35 AM UTC
Screams, Sighings, groanings
I heard in whispers as it echoes in my soul
Fallen! We are, on the battlefield
Like an egg, smashed on a rocky surface
Our fate now decided by our foes
.
Cries I heard,
As the ****** of spears move through our hearts
Clattering of swords echoes, and vibrated off our arms
Waters I drank,
That flows from my eyes alongside with blood from my veins
Defeated we are! Captives we became.
.
Our women married off like harlots without bride prices
Our sons led off to be slaughtered like cows in the abattoir
Our gods disregarded like a king, naked in the market
.
We are defeated, but not defeated
For mothers will name their sons after us!
Men will bow and worship us like gods in temples!
Girls will scream our names when their lovers excite them
Wives will sing our names when they gaze at their *** of Bush meats
For we are only defeated, not defeated.
.
Balogun David Tolulope
(drunk poet)
©️
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 7:20 AM UTC
I read a Thousand love sonnets,
Oh what grandoise thoughts I had of
You Pablo,
Somehow sitting beside an open fire,
Highly romanticised visions
Running through you in
Crystalline clarity of the human heart.
Oh what wonderous mythic thoughts
I had until I went grocery shopping.
I see you Pablo Neruda in your
Naked truth,
A sun setting fatigue over you,
You scrawling about a list of food,
At first which I thought was the Poem.
But this could not be the Poem,
Words cannot fluster a man like you,
I followed for a while ,first in awe,
Then in a sad curiousity.
What happend to this man
And the allusions of such brilliant
Women in white dresses that must
Dance through his corridors?
He walks a tired walk,
Slowly approaching another figure.
And there was the plain truth
Of a plain man with the adventurous heart.
" Did you get the pork chops?"
She asks him in a worn down voice.
"Yes dear"
And in this stroke of reality
Where dreams come to swift the soul
Away into the portico on some purple
Glazed sunlit dusk,
Or the woman seeking the warmth
From the benighted snow next to
A porcelain fire which seemingly
Births tiny star like embers that light
The eyes of the lovers,
I realise that it is the escape that is poetry,
The words are groanings of the deepest
Nature of the person,
And the truth is not necessary,
For the poem sets us free from what
We all seem to already know.
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
Yes.
The song
Of the crow
We loathe.
A grey flute
It has, and upon it
The coarse tunes
It does play.
What does it sing?
Is it self pity?
in praise
of God it does,
And beauty of nature.
man has
a beautiful pipe,
but sings only
Groanings, his grouses.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 1:36 PM UTC
I come before you open and exposed
While you sit peaceful and reposed
Like a newborn babe, I am weak
I am helpless, and blindly, I seek
To see your face and find your eyes
Tend, Oh Lord, to my mewling cries
In your light, my darkness is exposed
And all my sins are, at once, disclosed
You answer before I can think, much less speak
With a love so personal and so unique
Lord, you see through all the lies
You know me beneath the disguise
And there you are open and exposed
A symphony of victory being composed
Giving me hope when the future was bleak
Lifting up the humble, merciful, and meek
There is so much that I don't yet realize
Like the groanings of the spirit and the heart's sighs
I fall down: naked and in shame
But you clothe me and softly call my name
You embrace me and kiss me sweet
And, full of tears, our eyes now meet
I once was lost, but your love has found
Me and brought me back to holy ground
You wash away the guilty stains
Until no trace of sin remains
I am new: born again in your eyes
In my foolishness, you are wise
Let all creation break forth in joyful hymn
For He is found in me, and I am lost in Him
Dec 14, 2024
Dec 14, 2024 at 10:11 PM UTC