"harmlessness" poems
What hollow, caustic foulness lies behind the neatly edged hedges,
fences, plastic window frames and glass?
Resting, waiting to be woken, scream what now must not be spoken
Blood-lust of a gutless middle class
What simple lies must needs be told in bold authoritative tones
To activate the drones and make them fight -
To know, that if the call should come they'd march to that benighted drum
And sacrifice intelligence for right?
How big a monster must be built to shoulder guilt for every creeping fear
and insecurity and loss,
Till every hip and critical disclaimant finds a reason for believing
and then carries it, across.
How many layers must be stripped to tip the wretched shreds of indecision
into morals blown apart
And harmless bigot who, at work, was tolerated with a smirk
Now drives a dirk into a stranger's heart?
Now doctor, teacher, business leader, well-respected educated man
proclaims his harmlessness anew,
Make no mistake: the quills are fine and ready as the porcupine
prepares to show what harmless beasts can do.
Dec 2, 2010
Dec 2, 2010 at 9:46 AM UTC
She blamed him he wasn't there while she was searching him.
Alone in the garden. Browsing eyes again feasting forbidden thing.
Told to keep away from.
Alluring be that Serpent seeing her away from Him searching.
Serpent slithered on in.
Him off working, tilling seeking. Unseeing.
He blamed her, for being off and away searching.
The forbidden thing
She blamed him for not being close enough and not listening in.
Whilst searching for you in my view the forbidden thing came.
She proclaimed.
As yes the Serpent came and convinced me
of the harmlessness of this thing.
Its tempting.
Take eat with me.
As he did eat.
Separation, hardship, incompatibility, neglect,
war and fighting in generations this world it did
bring.
Such unnatural things, they were put out of the garden.
Oh how soon to come things would change.
Woman as day As night is to Man.
Hard to find Him the same ever again.
With out heavens blessings and bringing together of such things.
The Fall and
Clashing of Planets
By The SelinaShardaye
S.A.M 2008 All Rights Reserved
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 2:45 PM UTC
I have the willpower of a torrential flood
I have a tongue like a bolt of lightning
The drive of an ardent wildfire
With the serenity and Zen of a lake’s mirroring surface,
When the sun is just shy enough to hide away from the world five minutes before dawn.
I have traversed the Atlas and soul-searched in temples and nightclubs alike
As I navigated skyscrapers and mountains of mass media with a wrought-iron compass
I meditated and prostrated and repeated my Ex Corde mantra,
“Om mani padme hum, our Father in heaven,
I pledge allegiance to the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth will set us free.”
These old words resound in the Information Age with feigned harmlessness,
Amplified with the subwoofers of today’s youth, screaming, “The only true victory is peace”,
Screaming, “Rise up, daughters and sons of Forever”,
Screaming, “Next stop, the Greater Good!”
Jul 1, 2011
Jul 1, 2011 at 10:05 PM UTC
You are light. No, not the warm radiance that comes from the sun, but the soft glow of the moon at night. You are the light that flows from the moon; you are the moon. Much like the sun, you illuminate the canopy that blankets the earth, but you’re different. The blazing giant finds home in its own flare. Its corona provides a safe haven in the aphotic atmosphere of space. Your luster is too weak to do the same for you. Darkness is your home. You were created in a void, but you are light.
With you, I feel myself in a different way. I no longer end at my finger tips and dissipate into formlessness, which I fear the most. Instead, I take part in a beautiful continuity as my palms lock into that of yours. It’s as if two galaxies collide and merge like the way waves spill over to the shore. The celestial bodies intertwine and perform a graceful cosmic dance for you and me to gaze upon as we drift slowly into harmlessness.
While we make our way through the infinite sea of stars, we pass the world by. I catch a downpour of pain flood your eyes. Hush now, you. The world doesn’t see the way that I do. The world doesn’t see at all. It can’t. It’s blind. For that very reason, it claims that you are nothing, and you believe it. You give in to the notion that you are not enough. Stop. There is a universe inside your mind, and that makes you something. An endless imagination surrounds you. Stop. Your hands form things out of the darkness, and that makes you enough. The way you press down softly on the black and white keys makes a meteor shower seem like an ordinary happening. Stop. If you think that the world is right, that’s a lie. Believe me. You are a wonderfully painted work of art. Not even Van Gogh could have created such an impression.
Our path soon intersects with the courses of asteroids. The giant space rocks carry clusters of dust along with them. We go straight through the belt and dirt covers your entire face. I stare at you and smile. You smile back. I notice that despite the filth you are still perfect. Perfect regardless of imperfections. Perfect imperfections. You are light, but you were created in emptiness and now live in darkness. You are the moon that glows to illuminate the earth, but your incandescence is too dull to shelter you. You are the galaxy that embraced me, but you were driven away from yourself by the world. Even so, you are perfect. With all the dust that covers you, you are beautiful.
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 11:08 AM UTC
If all appears to be harmony and coexistence in this garden enclosure,
All that means is terrible truths have not yet suffered proper
exposure,
Might you wait a little bit and watch it completely lose its
composure?
Intruding into this once peaceful garden,
digging down in the soft tissue of the mud, is absolutely
the most maniacal bug. There he goes, he jumps he dashes, he sets devastating fires, but not the kind that leaves behind ashes.
Note that this heinous invader is white and black,
spots of red pepper this raider’s back.
Small with spiny legs ending in sharp claws,
his eager jaws ooze venom that chews and gnaws,
as he ravenously feeds on the garden’s flaws.
Faking harmlessness, you haven’t seen what lies beneath,
like a longsword hidden under its sheath.
This insect is a minion of discontent,
the harbinger of torment.
Every day he lurks there among the tangled grass,
sinking his teeth in unsuspecting plants,
to make them into his loyal sycophants,
He corrupts them farther and farther,
to the point where they even despise being watered,
because his new instruction gives them a thirst for
mutually-assured destruction.
Can you see the garden deteriorate fast, the green turns
brown and the fibers that hold everything together
cease to last?
Toxicity courses through the vegetation,
and now, plants with no evil inclination
are being swallowed up by fear, hate, and indignation.
This once beautiful botanical cultivation
has become a ******* abomination.
Every vine and leaf slowly becoming decayed and grisly.
Has excising the infestation become far too risky
because the plague has manifested and spread,
and the first wave of his victims are already dead?
Definitely people will wonder, even though he’s turned your garden over and under, how could such a little insect make you go completely insane? Well because there is no garden, he lives in my ******* brain.
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 2:36 PM UTC
Begin, full of harmlessness, fussed over.
Parents, creating and up-loading youth.
Youth, something refused when made clear.
Refusal, that seemingly innocent mother of consent.
Engrossed in today, individual reality.
An intoxicating web, a grimy big city,
and now, all of it, in the palm of isolation,
a vapid display to be adored by the willing.
Adoration, the paralleled path for the lonely.
Loneliness, the labored heartbeat of the searching,
a long-sat engine, unwilling to turn,
both buoyant, wading in pools of uncertainty.
These choices, for others, exist on a page.
Picture a stranger, thumbing through photos of life.
There are many like him. I should start,
but I’d miss the would be chatter, and think to home.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 9:53 PM UTC
With petals made of milk drops, an appearance of harmlessness is formed.
When you crane your neck in her direction and her soft smell lingers under your nose you begin to realize that the world has changed. Milk has clouded your eyelids and softened your perception of reality.
Suddenly, you feel the need to reach out and touch one of her milk drop petals, if only for a second. You decided that a small green leaf near the flower is close enough. You do not wish to damage her.
Your fingers slowly slither their way towards her and before you realize it you are upon her velvet leaf.
A sharp pain has blossomed in your fingertip and you abruptly pull your hand away and look at the flower. Spikes have protruded from her entire being and on top of one is a small droplet of your blood.
You look at your hand, but only a small kiss mark remains where the spike has drawn your blood.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 11:49 PM UTC
nothing waits for me except eternal darkness,
for, I want to splurge my existence in that void,
the abyss of harmlessness.
so, here I rise with a blade in my hand, listening to pink floyd,
and there, it pierced my wrist,
I never felt more alive.
As I sink lower into that grey chasm,
I fall deeper and deeper into the fate I have written,
fearing I may regret this, one day.
-@enchantingnachokitten
Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 3:12 AM UTC
Little china baby cracks in my grasp.
Eyes bulge as her beauty brakes
off into little pieces falling softer than rain.
Sweetly striking the floor, they brake off
into more
broken
little
pieces.
But still she stares in soft defiance.
Her harmlessness cuts right through me.
It curdles as I swallow it. It swells
in my stomach until all I can do
is throw her down and watch her smash.
But now she’s a thousand times more:
An army of broken beauty
that I can’t seem to bare to see.
So I gather every single last bit of her.
She cuts my hands as I pick her up.
I lay her out on the table
and try and make her whole again.
But of course I fail, I always do.
I guess I was never enough to hold
her close without breaking us both.
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 5:01 PM UTC