C X Rutledge Dec 2014
These hands that have held you as a wild child in a dream are the same hands that throb to choke you and muffle your screams.
These hands which guided and guarded you down those stretches of hospital halls are now the hands that push you down to fall.
These hands once caressed the jagged, pink, scar where your heart used to lay become the hands that wish to tear it away.
These hand that made sure you fell asleep through all that pain now are the hands that would cut themselves to beat out your brain.
These hands that used to pray for you like a whore ready to be stoned are clinched in two fist now ready to make the first throw.
These hands that ached for you, fed you,  and tried so fucking hard are just the hands of memories now deep tissue scars.
... These hands.. Would have killed anyone, in dirt and cold blood.. Are now the only hands holding back the rage of my flood.
.. These hands, they still work for you. Even if you're no longer here with me..... These hands, they're still here, waiting... One day.. You'll see.
Saw some one I haven't seen in years..  It just reminded me of how much I gave up for someone in their darkest time in life and how much I mistreated them... Gotta love the holidays :) maybe one day.
Corey Feb 2017
Delirium
Hysteria

Nowadays the police hardly ask questions
321 arrested, 10 injured in Ferguson
486 arrested, 2 shot in Baltimore
371+ arrested, 43+ injured in DC

Black lives matter because they haven't mattered
Our history is of the white mans view
And now we obtain fake news from our leader

What more must we say to avoid fatal situations
Michael Brown
Freddie Gray
Trayvon Martin

Nowadays the police don't ask questions
They just demand with the cock of a gun

Chh chh, BANG

"Hands up!"
Shoot first, ask questions later.
Karijinbba Jul 13
Let not your heart
be troubled;
ye believe in God
King Arthur Lancelott
believe also in me.
In my father's house are
many mansions;
if it were not so,
I would have told you.
I go to prepare a place for you.
And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again,
and receive you unto myself;
that where I am, there you will be also.
John,14-3
Karijinbba
When our loved ones leave us behind in the hands of God as they cant be here to watch us and love us
Hg Jun 9
i fear my spider hands
and the words
they spin to webs

they twist and twine
injecting rhymes
in every word that’s said

they type and type
and type biting venom
from in my head

i stay awake all night
writing till sunrise
stings my bed

i feel arachnophobic
of these fangs
that can’t be fed

but if only you gripped ‘em
you'd squash ‘em
till their dead

with you holding my hands
i'd drop my pens and
my distress

with you holding my hands
my spider eyes would
get some rest
©Hg
writerReader Jan 2015
with your dancing hands
with your lithe fingers will you
calm my thrashing heart
Nathan A Jul 23
Seductive wayward hands
Like silk, soft too the touch
Travel down her lustrous skin
Southbound too their destination
Lips, neck combine in passion
Warm breath on the neck
Turns into sultry slow kisses
She grips his hair tightly
Her soft moans reverberate in his ear
As his fingers glisten with her lust
KM Hanslik Jul 2
Keep your eyes soft and your dreams
up on the highest shelf so you won't take them down too early;
keep everything that you spill in the dark locked
behind your teeth during the day, don't bring it out before dusk;
like secrets we drip over sidewalk cracks
from cotton-candy sticky fingers and leave our names
dissolved under each other's tongues, the warmth of you is keeping me company
as I try to crawl out of my blood again, they told you to leave
a bread-crumb trail in case your heart becomes too watered down by just visiting
to even remember the vacation at all; you carry
kisses on the knuckles of amputated arms,
driving through parking lots with your seatbelts on,
collections of constellations growing
in the bruises on the insides of your thighs, reminders
of salt & the whites of your eyes;

I'll always carry you around
like scuffed knees and the last time I told you "I'm okay",
I wanna press my fingers into you until your skin is melded
with fire and scraps of things that I could never be,
I hope steel rods grow out of your bones and I hope you gather
bruises before you gather dust,
we are all a little lost and lonely but that never stopped
the accumulation of well-spent nights
coughing up new ways to spell my name
(it sounded foreign before you)
leave this on repeat,
we're going in again.
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
What is appropriate to say about the changes
in your life. That at 23 I was confused
about a girl, under the sculpted pines.

Quietly, my friends and I contemplate death.
A subject, until recently, unknown
to us in such a variety of forms. Nuclear flash
to exploding blood vessel in the brain, control
eludes us. Heirs to a society adept with numbers,
we run in the park and eat whole grains,
increasing survival odds.

The city and the mountain are two hard anvils
against which our hot lives are shaped. Love
is the fire, and the need for love. To be shaped
by the lover's warm hands, like clay.
Alive, almost sure of it.
www.ronnowpoetry.com
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