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The sun goes out some days:
And with it the fallacy of light,
Which gleamed the ice and snow for us
And made it beautiful
Slow liquids, sentient as streams
We make our way
backs bent like old men
In battle against the invisible

I eye the ground warily, as if gravity had turned enemy
a demon that possesses the feet
Sleepwalker
Nature isn't always friendly. Walking home in hail.
Kathryn Rose Mar 2018
Don't you dare speak those words.

You know exactly what they will do,
to you,
and to him.

There will be no more
you and him.

Like the peach blossoms
broken from the delicate, young branches,
the verbal hail storm,
the weight of the ice,
will knock him to the frozen ground.

Raw,
Unsure how much affection he can return,
of how his own whirling thoughts fit with yours.
Your tale, far from fairy, will end.

Your open heart will shrivel,
like the salty sardines you left on the wooden picnic table
in the burning sun.

You will regret your thoughts and
you will regret your feelings,
but know, sadly, there was nothing left to do,
but leave too soon.
Ashari Ty Feb 12
.. .. ..
Freeze the droplets, halt the rain
But nature will always bring
Hail storms or snow
Either way, everyone is cold
.. .. ..
Poetoftheway Feb 11
the Hail Mary transgression:
falling in love with me when it crosses over the line

guilty of the same, so even when I condemn the errant woman,
with an ice block from a Northeastern pond of no soft forgiveness,
which is still and yet, the only cutoff ending appropriate

but you woman, deserve to learn that
emboldened fantasy that crosses broken bold lines,
is a jagged rot that doesn’t cure the dreamy unreality of
the-cannot-be,
it’s pouring hot water on scalding burns entrenched

guess time to share that your fantasy is the
number one commandment
that this boy also violates routinely so he has a phd of experience,
and the burn proofs when he thot he too could be,
Cervantes, the knight errant, lover of the impossible woman

I, guilty as charged by “The Duke,” am an idealist and bad poet,
so many poet-women here I secret cherish at levels that are nonsensical, absurd, ludicrous
and hold the fantastical fantasty of them dear,
so close and so near, so mine

wrote them each love poems, and they know it,
now, here, in my confessional booth,
my priestly punishment always the same,
ten thousand Hail Mary’s,
but I cheat the cohen priest,
and just write another poem,



this one is about the line that never can  could  will be
crossed, hail mary!
The Duke from Man of La Mancha
CK Baker Mar 2017
its amazing what we’re capable of when pressed;
lunar launches
and shaman healing
hail marys
and fortunes of gold
heavy hauls
and broken borders
war, compassion
and treaties of peace

all those wild and lofty regressions from the mean;
soul re-settings
(from deadly deeds)
scores and scriptures
liberty and peace
walls, asylums
(in the jaws of defeat)
channeled spirits
of warmth
and love
and connection

and sometimes, it’s just a little fodder;
pyramids and viaducts
aqua-lines and chunnels
spider climbs
and deep dives
base jumps near the high wire
gardens and divine art
and even water boards
(for beauty is in the eye of the beholder!)
have a look around
and let gratitude be your guide
laura Apr 2018
Fell in love last friday
with a non-binary star
woke up and brushed my teeth
with sunglasses on thinking
of them

white shots of hail and the windows
jeweled from the rain
a hot week and hot nights
followed by a hot star
and sheets of rains from grey clouds
changing
they DJ’d at a party and i got rly drunk kayyyy

edit: thx angela for lighting this one up :3
Wake up my light
O' mighty god light my morning
Like you light up my packs like the impoverished morning
In the cool cool

Of evenings, let's fly out
Too short of words, o'er is he becoming him
Her becoming his or was she becoming her edict of nights brighter
Stars lighter up mulled

The wine I can try freely ransack and robed freeloaders get me
Blues on her bag, speak of cusp
It's almost time, to leave your satchel
That will carry my words, too soon
Carry out my some character
Among the metaphysical woods
Lit by the fuliginous lamps wrought with
Argonauts and Cupid, Aegis and Jesus
Demetri and vivid allegory of the movies
A Slow Heyoka Apr 20
Words of amendment attempted to form around my mouth
As I watched a sinking ship sail away over a burning bridge

I tried to smack them away with a kiss but it just left a rash of scorn
Which seemed to spread all the way to the elbow grease I'd been saving for that rainy day

It made it really hard to pull my head out of the asphalt
The hole I could have left it in forever
I guess I can always go back to it whenever

If it wasn't for these vexing and inauspicious Idle hands
I'd be at the end of the game by

                                                         NOW

There's salt on the bedsheets and tears in the mill
How I long for those poison claws
To drag me back into her ghyll

Frosty fingers burning my neck
Scratching at the hourglass sands
Chasing that nostalgic wyrm back into the pages of Zanarkand
                               .                .
And still...         .            .
                          []        []
           It may seem a little cliche
               I find it kind of hard to convey
The hardest thing I did to this day
       Was watch that sinking ship
                                                                ­                ...Sail away
poem by: A Slow Heyoka
Written in September 2017
Alyssa Underwood May 2017
I saw a path and ran ahead
I nearly lost my way
Your mercy caught me by the arm
To Your side You bid me stay

I put my hope in my own plans
Which soon around me fell
You stopped me short upon that road
And said, "Rest and all will be well."

I'd surrendered all, but to my foe
Enticed into the briars
You turned his evil schemes instead
Into refining fires

I couldn't see my helplessness
Until my legs were broken
Till Shepherd's hands caressed my wounds
And healing words were spoken

You picked me up and carried me
And made me feel Your favorite
You held my head against Your chest
Until I grew to savor it

You tended me with gentlest touch
Then soothed all thought of fears
You sang forgiveness over me
And washed away my tears

There is no one like You, Lord
On whom I can rely
In loss, in danger or attack
You hear this poor sheep's cry

It's You Who keeps me from real harm
Who watches my coming and going
You shield me with Your strong right hand
From darts the enemy keeps throwing

You said to all who trust in You
You would give perfect peace
Enough for mind and heart to rest
To let all worrying cease

So, Lord, I trust You with my life
Your Shepherd's heart is pure
Your purpose for me's guarded well
And Your deliverance is sure

Please teach this sheep, Lord, how to wait
And strengthen me to stand
To put my hope in Your desires
And to love Your sovereign plan

You lead me into fields so green
Where streams of life are flowing
Where healing winds blow oft' and strong
And choicest fruits are growing

You set me free to hear Your voice
To follow at Your call
And even through the dark, cold nights
I'll know You've arranged it all

Yes, storms will come with battering rains
With hail and gusts and thunder
But these are meant to beckon me
To Your wings to pull me under

For it's in the darkness of the storm
My grip's most apt to tighten
And when my heart beats next to Yours
All earthly burdens lighten
~~~
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2013
Why Men Cry in the Bathroom

For so many reasons.
I will tell you the why.
I think you know,
Or perhaps, you think you know.

Men are always O.K.,
Even when not.

We expect the worse,
Accept the worse,
Nonetheless,
We are forever unprepared.

Wearily, we cry,
In the bathroom, in private,
Lest sighs slip by,
We be unmasked,
Early warring, strife signs warning.

Copious, tho we weep
Before the mirror confessor,
It is relief untethered,
Unbinding of the feet,
An uncounting
Of beaded rosaries,
Of freshly fallen hail stones,
Of night times terrors
By dawn's early edition's light,
and welcomed.

But look for the mute tear,
The eye-cornered drop,
*** tat, that never drops,
But never ceases formation and
Reforming, over and over again,
In a state of perpetuity of reconstitution,

The tippy tear of an iceberg revealing,
And I see you peeping, wondering,
What is beneath


Look for:
the torn worm-eaten edges of spirit,
thrift shop bought, extra worn,
grieving lines neath the eyes,
where the salt has evaporated,
discolored the skin.
worry lines,
under and above,
browed mapped, furrowed boundaries.
the laugh line saga,
where better days are stored,
recalled, as well as recanted,
publicly, privately.

Why just men?

I don't know,
Perhaps,
it is all I know.


Jan 6, 2013
your effusive and lengthy comments are each a poem in their own right.  

Tinkered with June 22, 2013
With a push from Bala,
A serial peeper, thank God!
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
I saw a path and ran ahead
I nearly lost my way
Your mercy caught me by the arm
To Your side You bid me stay

I put my hope in my own plans
Which soon around me fell
You stopped me short upon that road
And said, "Rest and all will be well."

I'd surrendered all, but to my foe
Enticed into the briars
You turned his evil schemes instead
Into refining fires

I couldn't see my helplessness
Until my legs were broken
Till Shepherd's hands caressed my wounds
And healing words were spoken

You picked me up and carried me
And made me feel Your favorite
You held my head against Your chest
Until I grew to savor it

You tended me with gentlest touch
Then soothed all thought of fears
You sang forgiveness over me
And washed away my tears

There is no one like You, Lord
On whom I can rely
In loss, in danger or attack
You hear this poor sheep's cry

It's You Who keeps me from real harm
Who watches my coming and going
You shield me with Your strong right hand
From darts the enemy keeps throwing

You said to all who trust in You
You would give perfect peace
Enough for mind and heart to rest
To let all worrying cease

So, Lord, I trust You with my life
Your Shepherd's heart is pure
Your purpose for me's guarded well
And Your deliverance is sure

Please teach this sheep, Lord, how to wait
And strengthen me to stand
To put my hope in Your desires
And to love Your sovereign plan

You lead me into fields so green
Where streams of life are flowing
Where healing winds blow oft' and strong
And choicest fruits are growing

You set me free to hear Your voice
To follow at Your call
And even through the dark, cold nights
I'll know You've arranged it all

Yes, storms will come with battering rains
With hail and gusts and thunder
But these are meant to beckon me
To Your wings to pull me under

For it's in the darkness of the storm
My grip's most apt to tighten
And when my heart beats next to Yours
All earthly burdens lighten
Yenson Oct 24
Be all, see all, say all
in insignificance, sightless and inarticulate
what else to own but superficiality and posturing
belligerence in the absence of self-worth and substance
inadequacies, vices and shame all painted in snowflakes hues
the gut wrenching fact of the disadvantages of life's station and status
that limitation of social placements and scarcity of development
the cossetted ignorance bred and the hackneyed minds
the riveting pain of resultant bad choices made
the hate and self-loathing ingested within
that staining perception of oppression
the anger of not being good enough
of un-taken opportunities
of being down-trodden
the inferiority complex
frustration of hardship
invisible and unheard
what can they do, what can they say
oh hell, find them a way to vent and depressurize
find them a scapegoat to blame and share their suffering
give them an object to demonize and castigate and burn at the stake
give them a sacrificial lamb to relieve their incessant angst and anger
Let them be all comrades
Let them inflect suffering and gape
Let them be able to say we have tied Colossus down
Hadiy Syakir Oct 2017
Kudos to Kaepernick.

I just cannot drown all my beliefs and ideas, even if it contradicts my flesh and soul. When I heard that not standing up to the tune; that has always succeeded on sweeping all of the messes underneath the sad reality, to be deemed as subversive, I know that Rosa would definitely clench onto the seat tighter than ever.

Kneel, my friend, kneel.

To drag our body out there, all over the precious hills and fields, while acting as if the scale has always been set fairly beneath you all this time, will hurt you more than myself. How can a mere matter of things decide our future, our destiny? We shall shape our fate, you shall shape your own fate, and to be judged on the perception biasedly built in the name of order for thousands of years, is a situation that should not be endured by anyone or anything in a tiny dot within this vast universe.

Kneel, my friend, kneel.

And for that, I cannot stand proudly and profess my love to you as of now, even though I will always wear my heart on my sleeve for you to see. To be cheated, to be manipulated, to be deemed as surplus, by those at the tip of the plateau, that cunningly asked us to forget all the tangles and wrangles for the love of this sacred land, while unashamedly distribute everything off the land, off the ocean amongst them, is the last thing that we should allow to happen. I am one of those that can't simply put on the mask on top of our meant-to-be honest faces, to say hail to the thief is worse than the eternal grief. I have never dreamed of burying the hatchet with them, not even for a second and if I ever do it, I shall be condemned and dismissed for forgetting the roots, the fons et origo of mine. To love you does not mean to stand still to the soulless melodies, to love you doesn't mean to bow down to the meaningless piece of cloth that has overseen countless infiltration and bombing over the years.

Kneel, my friend, kneel.

To love you is to fight for the rights of many, by any means, even by not standing up. When black is no longer the symbol of miserable, filth and calamity, we shall then breath with ease, stand on our feet and fully embrace the real meaning behind all those majestic words.

Kudos to Kaepernick.
A Simillacrum Nov 2018
((hidden track))


No right
                  No right?

All right
                  All right?

Ever      felt      cursed      before?
                 ­ You kidding me?      I was cursed at birth.
                  You kidding me?      I was cursed at birth.
Ever      felt      cursed      before?

                 ­ All right?
All right

                  No right?
No right


I'm gonna burn up, baby.
And ya gonna burn up, too.
We all gonna end some time,   that's the rule.
And we gonna go enjoy.
Ya gonna burn up, baby.
But ya gonna burn it true.
I'm gonna burn up, baby.
And I gonna burn so free.
I'm gonna burn so free.
Seanathon Nov 2017
Cold candy
Pop rocks bursting in the morning hail

My mouth a mess and mind untested
Tired and still

The morning reaches out to me
But nothing gets better at this time of day

I wish my words could carry me
Like I carry a them, away
Nothing feels worse.
Shofi Ahmed Sep 2018
Bud of the winter dew on lips grow,
Snowy boughs surrounding began to unfold,
'Spring it shall flower' you must travel along, to see
When she will flower and in her very first glance,
Shall innovate the ether lapis-lazuli sky,
And the glamorous sun in her luminous dews,
She will cast her gaze towards the infinity,
And the veiled spring-night of tender full-moon,
With millions of star thriving, will be reflected upon;
She will whisper to the sleeping morning breeze,
And that will wake dancing the primrose's aroma,
Smoothly waving over the green meadows!

Who will let it be freely, purely, organic!
In whose innovate warm touch shall dissolve,
Poor winter's covering upon the earth,
Hence, once again green earth shall cast,
A glance to its vernal zenana,
Beneath the sunny sky wherein the air,
Shall sniff the aroma of the radiant rose,
And the birds shall tour around,
Singing the song of freedom!

Endure, yet she is beyond the gaze of the sky!
Now a season poor as she has flown away,
Gone to address the assembly of the Angels!
Therefore, accepting an invitation from the fairies,
To have a bath in their lotus-pool, prior to flight.
Hence, delighted fairies all flew to the palace,
To give the news to Queen Mab!

And soon a while after they return,
Around the pool, they greeted and sang,
The spring while she steps into the pool,
They sing and dance, hail the spring:

'The troublesome thorn mingled into itself,
The long ugly arm has collapsed pieces itself,
And the beauty has broken through!
Behold! The shining sun under her shadow!
The beauty by her grace fathomless,
Gorgeous she looks, rosy winsome!
Make all dance her awakening fragrance,
Tenderness she breaths, and caresses the bliss,
With a heart of endless love,
Vivifies the file, pleasant, dynamic!'

Meanwhile, the maid of honour came with the news,
They wanted to hear 'the Houris too shall join them.'
Yet they are flowering themselves alike as they gaze,
Upon the adoring scene of divine, winsome, paragon, fashions,
Impressionist hairs of the Queen of Paradise!
Where lay upon the Throne, and youthful streams,
Flowing, surrounded by, and canopied by the sky
Of glory garnished by the millions of the divine artisans!
There the sun care greatest and offers harvest lights,
And now, she comes to the streams, she shall swim.
Therein the never fading water-lily will please her sight,
She will listen to the divine birds of joyfulness,
Singing the songs of the blissful souls,
In the name of the all praiseworthy,
The perpetual Creator, Allah.
As she will innovate the songs,
And the innovative image of the eternal creations,
Will be bestowed upon the spring and all the houris,
Shall greet the spring as they will pour
Flowery rain over the fairies' pool!

Listen, the angels sing 'Lo, the spring, '
Again and again, as she dives into the fairie's pool,
And dips out up to the earth! See for yourself:
As youthful as ever with the sun shining on her forehead
And the day on her flowers, with her the earth is radiant
Her soil is perfumed, she belongs to paradise!
Lizzy Jan 2015
I’m losing grip on deeper thoughts,
I wish to stand on war torn fronts,
I turn away from all I’ve fought.

I cannot mask my clear remorse,
Un-satiated hungry fear.
I must leave this to run its course,
My dusty bones are crumbling here.

I am a force to all I love,
A fearful storm that leaves no trail,
A burden they cannot hold up,
My storm, it carries hell and hail.

Slipping back into the sea,
My mind is lost inside of me.
karin naude Jan 2014
thank god, above all
me, born in age of female equality evolution
in any other age
me, a slave
confined by financial, educational and social inequality
fueled by power deluded women-peons
leaving mountains and dungeons in passing
tears of blood
shed by disillusioned soul
instinctively knowing,
i can create my own destiny
life time spend achieving
smoothing the road for future daughters
BUT
satans has intervened once more
present daughters do not value
their priceless inheritance
many squander it, willingly
but few remain
with noble footing
instinctively calling out, to higher power
uneducated, still knowing
god exist, he is watching
and my inner strength comes from my creator
who created for a purpose
hail the king of kings
The sky seems woeful.            
Rain pours from the gloomy clouds.
Hail falls when rain fails.
John McCove Dec 2018
Library lifter
Came to my study
He made all precautions
Mom’s sleeping
Mind’s blowing
He’s stepping smoothly
Right into my precious hub
With fairly ***** intentions

He carries his box of instruments
With screwdrivers of all types
To turn my guts inside out
With spanners of all sizes
To tighten up my nuts

He’s sitting on my lap
Reading me my book
My favorite childish book
He’s putting me down
Into a deep slumber
With his sweet lullaby
My grave been prepped in advance
Somewhere down the street
Next to the Milky Way  

Library lifter
Soul collector  
Made a good job
Once again
Oh, how hallowed electronica has grown
since the electro-festivities became known.
Now that stellar conflagration
consumes our nation.
All hail techno-paganism!

Our wicked philanthropy and righteous sins
keep us down, drugged-up and praying.
***** mind, clean conscience.

In heathen choice we are condemned
to experience pleasure
beyond what animal would comprehend.
Our souls will be set aflame;
We are to feel the sear of elation,
The fiery rush of indescribable sensation.
We gather to bring the collective to new planes,
Transcendention is the ceremony's name;
The expansion of consciousness
using molecules as tools
to reexamine 'mortal'.
Tammy M Darby Dec 2013
From what glorious kingdom
Will my armored warrior hail
That for my small hand
On slathered horse
Journey roads of heaven and hell

Riding stone covered ground
Of long black waiting shadows
To return to my lost soul
Stolen waiting tomorrows

On the quest to my heart
Slay the crimson dragon pain
His jeweled reward but one
Eternal love to gain

Written when my thoughts are not tainted with Poe
This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby  Dec. 29, 2013
She stumbled across the streets,
with low light streams.
Casting a glimpse to the rustling leaves,
fearing a soul's hail,
for 'twould free her long-harbored wail.

Her white shroud floating back like a spectre unleashed,
her feeble hands holding tight to the shovel in need;
on she went digging, with all her strength beaming,
waiting not for a second to breathe.

A ditch no less than a bottomless pit,
was what she endeavored to achieve in the late night sleep
to abandon her setback grief.
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