"hardening" poems
I chose ice-cream
Over yogurt;
Strawberry, vanilla or chocolate.
Each equally without prejudice
Attracted.
The fifteen year old server
Was kinda short;
The vanilla tub had about three scoops
Remaining,
Stacked hidden like frozen snow-balls
As in war games.
His task would have been daunting
And embarassing,
And I, a humanitarian
From higher education,
An altruist from St. Joseph's,
Could not allow it.
The chocolate tub
Was yet covered,
And the sobbing child's cries
Were hardening in my ears
As Dad tried to allay
His chocolate tears,
Applying the five second rule.
I am an empath
By nature and poetry,
So, turning from chocolate,
Left me strawberrry.
Triple scoop too.
I believe
You thought through
Your choices
Like flavors of ice-cream.
Being imaginative,
I do.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 10:30 PM UTC
Give me time to be intimate.
****** myself deep into your thoughts.
Slow grind on your opinions.
Let my tongue pour into your pores.
Nibble on your ear
Light breaths caress your canals.
Euphoric exclamations, you moan.
I press on your frame
Hardening myself to your disagreement
Because bruises only remind you of past occasions
You moisten my hands with your SELF-worth
I fill you with my SELF-esteem.
Pulling on the dreams flowing from your head.
You cringe, nails hanging of the cliffs of my skin
limbs stiffen around our future.
You pull me close
I hear you whispers
While you think them.
You want to avoid
Submitting under,
Moans become muffled
Locked in by your teeth
Biting your lip.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 9:38 PM UTC
Loneliness is a pain,
Not the pain of a knife cutting through skin, sinews, muscles,and drawing blood.
Not the pain of a tooth in your mouth throbbing and sending shocks of horrors through highways of swollen nerves..
Not a fatal pain of a dying cell being devoured by a cancerous growth that thrives on the death and the pain of the very cells that produces its been.
Not the pain of the prisoner s body been tortured by men who see no wrong or feel no shame as they insert sharp hot instruments into natural and man made orifices in their captives helpless, hopeless bodies.
Not the pain of age as the body's functions start their natural march towards unreliability , Hips, knees knuckles, elbows and all the other joints as they begin to slowly dry up and rub against each other like stones rolling down a hillside.
Not the pain of hearts slowing, livers hardening,lungs wheezing like ripped accordians bellows .
Not the pain of childbirth.
Not the pain of accidents that show no fairness to the person in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Not the pain of self inflicted wounds that can fool you into thinking that that pain is the answer to your problems.
Not the pain of the young healthy times when the body, and mind could accept it and overcome it
Not the pain of hunger or thirst.
Loneliness is the pain of the soul .
Loneliness is the pain of dreams that are dreamt when your asleep and when you'r awake.
Loneliness is the pain of memories . Some half forgotten some that are so clear you could almost touch them.
Some you'd rather forget.
Some you would spend the rest of your life reliving over and over again.
Loneliness is the pain that at times can be part relieved momentarily through the bottom of a whiskey bottle or a point of a syringe filled with a concoction of juices from plants poisonous to both the body and the soul.
Loneliness can never be cured by earthly things. Loneliness is a pain that can only find peace through a kinderd spirit.
Pat Rooney 2013
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 2:24 AM UTC
Blackbird
shadow death
witness
the spiraling
madness
glide
silent over
once vital beehive
shorn gray
paper thin
sip
raw honey
hardening
in the merciless
heat
nourish
the suffering
concentration-camp thin
jutting bone
slack skin
reflect
the boundless light
of a shield
wrought from
love
honor
these golden
futile gestures
they are not
infinitesimal grains
Blackbird
with beaded sight
testify
*do not avert
your eyes*
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 9:42 AM UTC
Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,
That of our vices we can frame
A ladder, if we will but tread
Beneath our feet each deed of shame!
All common things, each day’s events,
That with the hour begin and end,
Our pleasures and our discontents,
Are rounds by which we may ascend.
The low desire, the base design,
That makes another’s virtues less;
The revel of the ruddy wine,
And all occasions of excess;
The longing for ignoble things;
The strife for triumph more than truth;
The hardening of the heart, that brings
Irreverence for the dreams of youth;
All thoughts of ill; all evil deeds,
That have their root in thoughts of ill;
Whatever hinders or impedes
The action of the nobler will;—
All these must first be trampled down
Beneath our feet, if we would gain
In the bright fields of fair renown
The right of eminent domain.
We have not wings, we cannot soar;
But we have feet to scale and climb
By slow degrees, by more and more,
The cloudy summits of our time.
The mighty pyramids of stone
That wedge-like cleave the desert airs,
When nearer seen, and better known,
Are but gigantic flights of stairs.
The distant mountains, that uprear
Their solid bastions to the skies,
Are crossed by pathways, that appear
As we to higher levels rise.
The heights by great men reached and kept
Were not attained by sudden flight,
But they, while their companions slept,
Were toiling upward in the night.
Standing on what too long we bore
With shoulders bent and downcast eyes,
We may discern—unseen before—
A path to higher destinies,
Nor doom the irrevocable Past
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
If, rising on its wrecks, at last
To something nobler we attain.
3.8k
Im tired of all the lies I hide behind, so Im Breaking the ties to the past
Long lasting present because the past is the past not a cage,
and it also isn't a theatre
So this exsistance shouldn't be staged, cause this **** ain't funny like Bellamy,
You might think I've gone mad because I'm not listening to what you're tellin' me not to,
but I got to, in order to survive, because the self inflincted wounds are healing and hardening, I'm searching for a deeper punishment,
making life more enjoyable, laid back and not so tense,
you won't have to worry about what trouble I might be in next,
and you won't have to be burdened with disappointment when I fail your tests.
So I'll play this life like a game of spades,
by the time this game is over, my stomach will be corroded with rage
but I'll keep a pokerface,
hidden behind stoner charm, a smile,
a handsome face & tinted shades,
I know you're clearly blind to my bluffing,
and I know you see me today,
but my eyes are set on the worries of tomarrow and
my mind is still wincing from yesterdays sarrow
I'm alive but I'm dying inside
because the guilt and shame are smothering me,
not to mention I'm choking on regret,
Don't fret, because my face isn't turnin' blue, and my pulse isn't speeding up,
but my wrists are scarred, but not ******
and please don't worry because this won't happen agian,
not making any promises,
Lord please forgive me for I know that I have sinned,
I just needed some proof to remind me where I've been....
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 4:33 PM UTC
Watch me as I unwrap... passionate,
In the drench of our rain.....
And night falls...
A silent murmur
Where the heart pauses,
A malachite shadow
Penetrates fire,
Burning
A flame's fierce lick
Beneath pulse...
Somewhere....
His smile touches
Warming the red sea of my heart
Pulsating ripples, spread
Soliloquies upon my skin
Orated in Southern sighs...
Slowly...
Desire engages,
******* hardening
Under tongue's brush;
Moist ripe, swollen folds
Tempt his lips to kiss my yielding
Where breath catches,
And I ... smolder within each touch...
Drenched..
My scent quivers languor,
Rhapsodic,
Drowning pools, orchid petaled
Finger parted... tender;
Under sweet seduction,
Stirring the supple bloom,
Tasting the restless currents
That throb through my milky sea...
Small moans...
Electric blue hangs the air..
Primal lust etching curves,
Tracing dewy flesh,
Heating
Skin on skin,
****** scent….arousing,
Tongue brushed hardness
Between dampened lips...
Hot....
The scorching sear... stigmata
Sin licks along thighs,
Essence, dripping,
S W E E T
Sensory overload,
Breaking my binds...
Feed...
My appetite,
I am.. lashes soft, licking thoughts
No words
No words...
Just....
Feed the need that overwhelms,
Grow inside me,
Fill me once again.......
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC
My lips hold back the lava in my chest.
The burning, consuming, encroaching destruction is hardening my resolve more than you could have guessed.
I feel so at home in the flames that water is so underwhelming.
It’s the coals I sleep on through everything.
To look so long at the light only to blind myself each time;
You’d think I’d learn my lesson after each rhyme.
I’ve never felt comfort for long enough to recall.
The videos of me laughing are something that now make me bawl.
I don’t know how that feels anymore.
I don’t remember what you sound like or the color of your front door.
Your voice no longer echoes in my head.
Your face no longer plagues me in bed.
I don’t know you outside of memories;
Moments of my time that bite like fleas.
You make me itch still,
A symptom that which the spot can never refill.
I’ve been battling between anger and grief for so long now.
It’s a why; it’s a how.
It’s a feeling I can’t live without.
No matter how hard I try to erase the pressure or smother the intensity, the kindling always relights in this drought.
With a deep breath in, releasing all the smoke back out.
It’s my meditation now.
It’s my medication now.
To smell it on someone else and be engrossed in the poison that this can allow;
My dear, that’s intoxicating for me lately.
A mass we are swallowing with the passing moment cornering us innately.
I don’t partake with my own vessel but I will consume a host so absorbed.
They don’t see me molding my character every time I get bored.
One day I will have the entire puzzle lined up together.
Each piece fitted so perfectly, completely combined in a tether.
They will compose a tale so broken and numb.
That’s the feeling that fills my ****** drum.
Every tear is a bad dream.
Every eyelash is a wish for this story to have a different theme.
Jul 7, 2022
Jul 7, 2022 at 2:02 AM UTC
A feeling of claustrophobia has begun to confine me.
This swamp of ideas thickens inside me, the murky clay mud making each step twice as demanding as the last. The once clear flowing waters of my dreams seem to be crystallizing, clouding and freezing over, ceasing the stream of my escape. My brain is callusing over incarcerating me, forcing me to experience the hardening of my own being. A reaction inside halting my imagination and depriving me of the ability to call out for help. These thoughts and words I evacuate onto this page only act as a catalyst speeding the process of my inevitable silence. There will come a time when the swamps have solidified, and the waters of my dreams become frozen clouded crystals trapped in place. My brain will develop into a callous, rendering my mind mute, I can feel this metamorphosis materializing yet there is nothing I can do to stop it, the development has already begun, all I can do is wait until a feeling of...
A feeling of claustrophobia has begun to confine me.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC
Asleep, your touch sparks arousal
Brings, sparks, kindling fire
Carries, your desire
Deeper to the night
Embrace, sultry words whisper
Fingertips grace, tighten
Gifting life, hardening
Hands explore, so soft
Into and out, dreaming flight
Just give to me this sin
Kinship in sensual prowess
Left not to my devices
Mouthing delicate blessings
Not silent, your moans
Open, spreading for you
Pulsating bulb, dripping nectar
Quivering thighs, devour
Rapturous entry tight
Some pleasures indulge
Touch me, send me over
Undulating, spinning for the edge
Vicious nails, like teeth
Wanton desire show the night
X rated, our bodies only
Zebra stripe across my back
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 12:48 PM UTC
It’s difficult to comprehend that
this is the same skin that, a few years ago
frolicked around in bars, carelessly giving out kisses.
No fear.
Every scar carries more
ignorance,
my flesh, less young explains
the former stupidity I carried
Accompanied by confidence.
I was but a child, lost in the woods
unaware what dangerous animals lurk.
Even then, surprised by my own’s existence
Me still being here and
continuously breathing.
I was brave, but not brave enough.
The quick breaths during the
first attack.
I did not know they hit like a hammer, I
a hot blade
They were hardening fear.
Enormous, monstrous fear.
I was powerful and strong, every year
my height lowering, so that my
once clear voice turns into a
trembling
whisper.
An exhalation, kept alive by the ones
close enough to put their ear next to my
tickling lips.
What anger I contain.
How mutely I express it.
It was once powerful.
Erupted from my chest like
living fire,
burning the monsters far, far away from me.
Now it barely sparks when I’m reminded of
the long gone evil men
Mean, mean men who did mean things.
It’s not that I wasn’t fashioned to arrive at this point.
I was.
But the feet pressing onto my clay body did not help.
Now I’m dried and crooked.
My voice quiet, body
exhausted.
As I exhale smoke once more, I get inside
embrace my love and think:
**** it."
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 12:13 PM UTC
I have never been a religious soul but I found a cathedral in my bedroom in the form of your body hardening beneath the white linens attached to my mattress. It was the perfect combination; I'd begin on my knees between your thighs and sin again and again in the form of sliding you down my throat, and then I would crawl up your body and sit on your lap and rock back and forth as I prayed for redemption. I never knew grace until you pressed your kiss to my breast and I never felt a revelation until you tucked your hand inside me for safe-keeping and wouldn't remove it until my whole body was shaking. And because I have never been a religious soul I fear that I cannot promise to return to this cathedral but I'll be ****** if I don't burn it down before I go.
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 12:15 AM UTC
Don't call me a volcano,
I don't want to be a volcano!
Sometimes active,
Mostly dormant,
A stiff peak with indigestion,
Birthing igneous isles
across the seas,
Starving for eruption,
Hardening.
Waiting.
Call me a hurricane,
Say it with a tremble.
Never expect me,
Dread my return.
Never dormant,
Always hungry,
Carving my path,
Landmass by landmass,
Conquering, Striding,
Devastating.
Get your facts straight
Before you call me a disaster.
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 1:38 PM UTC
Boundaries converge
subduction, descension
divergent margins widen
convective from the core
red hot and sticky
hardening to obsidian
succumb to subterranean pull
an infinitesimal slide below
dense and pressured soil
the slow parting seam
a rift becomes a chasm
consuming solid ground
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 11:54 AM UTC
AND TIME A THIEF
She hugged her books
to her *******
Her ******* hardening into
her Othello and Algebra.
She watched his mouth
move
alive with words
she heard nothing of
only
her name
"...yadayadaMARY...
...yada yada MARY!"
A bead of sweat
trickled between her *******
She tried to catch
her breath and
what he was saying but
it only gave her hiccups.
She squirmed
under his gaze
a butterfly
held by a pin
pleasure that was
pain.
"And that was how
I met your Dad!"
She tells this story
only when she's very very
tipsy
crying now
for the girl she was
- then:
the Shakespeare & Maths
pressed to her chest
the world
awaiting her.
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 4:22 PM UTC
I see you
Alone in a crowded room
Speaking about nothing
Going through life lost inside yourself
Thinking that you're invisible
But I see you
I see you
Cigarette in hand for something to do
Working away your time for nothing
Throwing yourself into anything to keep busy
Hiding from the pain you're afraid will lead you to hell
I see you
I see you
Silently crying yourself to sleep
Wondering why it has to be so hard
Wanting nothing more than to be free
Locked behind who you want to be
I see you
I see you
So good inside, masked by a hardening shell
Heartfelt smile that shines in your eyes
So beautiful a heart that the world seems ugly
Too much disappointment, afraid to let go
I see you
I see you
Pain, excruciating, nothing to fill the gaping wounds
Liquid poured right through your soul
Ashamed of the past, afraid there's no future
One day at a time, a means to an end
I see you
I see you
Fighting everyday to be closer to good
Yet, believing all you touch turns black
Those who seek you out don't rate
Assuming they must be crazy to hang around
I see you
I see you
Happy for a minute and ashamed that you were
Thinking you poison all that you love
Caring so much that it consumes you
Believing your doing right by cutting loose
I see you
I see you
Feeling like damaged goods
Sitting on the cusp of acceptance
Trying to re-assimilate
But more afraid of success than failure
I see you
I see you
Ignoring what's right in front of you
Pretending it's not deserved
Fighting your demons alone
Afraid to smile and bask in the joy
I see you
Can you see
That you don't have to fight alone
That you are loved just as you are
That you are an imperfect person
But you are still a good man
Can you see that I see the real you
Jan 5, 2011
Jan 5, 2011 at 11:25 PM UTC
Autumn flares out, its flame burst clouds
strewn about misted cliff sides, loam whites
of winter taking their place. A stiff willow breeze,
ten thousand things withdrawn to burrows and immortal
pine heights. First snows stream down, duckweed carpets
of August fade, jade peeking through white. I embark
on the seasons final sail in hardening ice waters.
Til spring my sails will be folded, my raft in idleness.
~~~
Rafting on moon drenched river, avoiding cascades and crash of
rapids and falls. Silvered driftwood a warning. Silent glide of
mulberry oar through dark azure, another crafts sail in silhouette.
From the deck a black spectre dives below, stillness follows
splash, re-emergence, beak wrapped around a dazzling rainbow.
From my raft dangling lantern sways, trout swiping at
gathered moths – scatter and return, some from a far off realm.
Some trout in the net, others not. Luck or the way – who can tell?
~~~
Dusk colour gorge sheathed in
emerald blankets, rising into sheer
cliffs of auburn cinnabar, all
underpinned by the fathomless
flow of azure clarity. Snowy Egrets
nest in pine top heights clear of dust.
On white sand shores gibbons howl
towards squawking beach gulls, squabble
over landlocked trout – debate without end.
Peach blossom petals swirl on spring breeze
over carpets of jade inter cut by king
fisher blue zipping over duckweed. Oriole
song weaves in and out of mulberry branches.
In these vast and vague waters -
coves, creeks and streams all one,
a river dragon lives an undetermined
existence. Mud stirs below, merely a
catfish airing grievances.
Red tail flares in dirt,
my mulberry oar rows me back home.
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 8:13 AM UTC
Eclipsed by ecstasy,
etching ourselves,
from corner to corner,
we drew out the figures of our present,
and scribbled out the plagues of our past.
We marched in unison,
eager to cry out to the world,
All we had learnt,
and all that we had taught,
but could no longer remember.
Faces seemed to exhale wisdom,
Because not only the people,
But the air understood what we knew.
What we had always known,
Yet had somehow trapped away.
Purging our unconscious,
Spewing our fears.
The world as we knew it was in mid-applause
and ready to erupt.
Erupt to only find ourselves,
On the journey back from where we came.
As if we were molten hardening back to reality,
Where regrets and headaches,
fail to numb the truth.
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 10:11 AM UTC
I want to keep my inner child alive
The more mature I become, the faster he dies
I want to keep his wonder in my eyes
As my curiosity blurs along with time
Who he is, is getting harder to define
Losing his small hand's grip from mine
Maturation is going to make me blind
The vibrancy of my colours subsides
His childish traits are falling back inside
The outside world and him do not coincide
Hardening my heart that use to be kind
Leaving with his pieces that use to be mine
He retreats to the corners of my mind
Burying himself in memories of time
Because that is where his happiness lies
In my childhood when the world was wide
I place myself behind too many lines
Building a box using all the right signs
Growing up into expectations assigned
Resorting to a life so simplified
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 12:48 PM UTC
October brings me sap and dreams,
for tears are caramel on cheeks of cream.
The only sweetness to taste at night,
is the caramel sacrifice for my lover's delight.
Hardening to my heart-shaped face,
my heart's owner dwells without a trace.
Left wondering with my hardening tears,
is this love a reflection of earlier years?
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 6:05 AM UTC
Call me when you have gasped your throat to splintered wood
Reach for me when your fingers have calloused to fractured stone
From the depths of the stoney pit of echoing isolation
When your legs hold you weary as rusted tin-soldiers
If your heart is hardening like lava reaching the ocean
If your song is submerged in a rain-on-tin-roof din
If your hugging arms are pulled asunder by monsoon landslides
If your eyes have filled with the angry spray of November hurricanes
Remember a warm hand against cold skin
Remember closeness like a heavy felted great-coat
Remember a low voice breathing fireplace hot upon your neck
Remember two hearts
Just two rib-thicknesses apart;
Two taught drums,
Beating in time
Together
In song.
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 4:53 PM UTC
its a gas station on a long desert road apparitions of wavy heat (steam from boiling water) emanating from the pavement converging with the skyline breaking the horizon – the ramblers in the distance
they lap at the *** of disparity (the savior for now) this road this pump – invisible if not the saving grace of the traveler
clinging to the dethreading strings of hope, unravelling ball of yarn of blind faith and compassion that if the doors closed there would be an awakening within memories dreams visions – but its invisible, an aura a transparent silhouette – no marks no chips in the fabric of this world, no cause, no direction, just there.
lets be direct I’m the gas station – a seed of a dandelion swimming in a sea of concrete waiting for the hardening world to enclose me into a capsule a capsule run by cogs, I’m one of the cogs, but when the sprocket snaps, the machine goes on – an ironic metaphor a poorly written one (waiting for the sprocket to snap) to think I’m the only ironic metaphor is arrogant – lest i find the other- or the other finds me.
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 3:17 AM UTC
Do you learn,
how do you earn,
if you did not burn
what you do into gray
matter memory.
Memorize by rote,
by rote,
rote,
a reducing game,
I'll call it stacking,
to maximize your
gain of what you
know, I mean know
for certain,
repeated physical
and mental actions
over and over,
over and over,
and over and over,
like a martial artist, doing a kata,
till he is caught doing it in his sleep,
or his nerves are always there
ahead, waiting for him to arrive,
but do we know for certain,
anything?,
photo shopping,
auto correcting,
foolish sexting,
conspiracy theorem,
bring me to life
AWAY
with boredom just a drop of inspiration,
AWAY
with tedium just some time and some space
A WAY
and I can and will learn it all,
with peace as my covering,
peace as my covering,
as my covering,
my covering,
covering.
Honest learning is that which is
involved in dwelling, some times
easily and at others it is a crime,
and a torturous process but in this,
***
"Finally, brethren, whatever is true,
whatever is honorable, whatever is
right, whatever is pure, whatever is
lovely, whatever is of good repute,
if there is any excellence and if
anything worthy of praise,
dwell on these things. "
***
That would be
what honest learning
could be,
where do I start,
memorizing by heart,
when my is heart turning
to stone, hardening,
not fertile and not prepared
for gardening and the
planting of good seed,
use a funny voice,
if you need to memorize,
tape to a mirror in front of
your eyes, your face,
*where you do spend allot of time I might add.
but before you go forward,
I will be forward and
remind you there are better
things, on which to dwell.
©DWE082013
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 11:08 PM UTC
the darkness comes as it goes
the dread however, seems intent on staying.
falling to my feet only ends up a ****** mess
theres no soft place to fall,
no solice to take.
...
there is only the act of hardening
and tempered steel,
though, when cold to the touch
is savagely barren
it can still in the heat of fire
take on the attributes of warmth
and melt and become something rather inept
though slightly beautiful.
...
what then, is there to do but reform our selves
and invite anguish and pain and then harden and soften again
till we find the shape of our hearts in the mould of the future
we once dreamed of
if we can still remember it.
...
and dread will be our constant companion;
the third wheel in our fortunes.
which was never handed to us in any decent form of fate,
but that in that fight of going anywhere
somewhere hidden in the violent struggle
is our often ignored love
beating its heart out for the tempo to temper
and
both beats to trigger each other in all our love states
simply to be recognised for what they are,
invincible.
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 4:40 AM UTC