"heartlessly" poems
Island,a piece of land surrounded by water,
So are we when you actually sit and ponder.
Water is what surrounds that piece of land,
And thoughts are what surround us, vast expands.
Exotic, tropical and beautiful expanses they treasure,
Much like the beauty within us beyond measure.
Some discovered and mapped and yet others still untouched,
We too expose ourselves and some still remain in 'emselves clutched.
Surrounded by a tropical beach some are and others in a dense gloomy fog,
We put up so many appearances, all assumptions and views to clog.
A threat an outsider may pose to the paradise they hold within,
Laying a foundation of trust is what's required before explorations begin.
Every island is unique and beautiful in itself,
Every person is a limited edition model on life's shelf.
An opportunity to experience such beauty needs to be met with gratitude and respect,
Grateful one should be to experience such beauty and not heartlessly deject.
For an island once deemed ugly will set up a fortress of its own,
People will crawl into their shells never letting anyone in their private zone
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 4:15 AM UTC
*Pain can be inflicted with suffering so great
By Cruelty’s powerful hand
When she heartlessly touches upon your fate
Taking your life, in her command
Now Terror, is Cruelty’s sister in pain
Jealous and filled with hate
She takes great pleasure in helping her reign
Extreme fear, is their helpmate
Compassionate motions of kindness are extended
When generous Mercy steps into view
One can see a graceful clemency offered, unsaid
In his forgiving eyes, of blue
A state of serenity will begin washing you clean
When sweet Peace enters the case
Holding his vision of Mercy steady and keen
A look of tranquility on his face
Let us not ever forget Pity, the one in the fold
Feeling sorrow over your pain
He will always gently extend his hand to hold
As long, as your suffering remains
However, everything changes when Love steps in
More powerful than all the rest
Overcoming the rampage of Cruelty’s reign
I would say, she is the best*
Sep 24, 2010
Sep 24, 2010 at 6:46 PM UTC
yesterday my feet rested comfortably on the bar of someone else's chair
and my eyelids slid heavy and the world seemed slow
a graph of survivorship curves glowing blurry on the whiteboard
and then words slid from behind a neatly trimmed white beard
". . . .as our bodies are programmed to die."
as our bodies are programmed to die.
*thousands of miles away
one gleaming thought against a murky sky
(that's how i imagine it anyway--murky, cold,
stagnant air)
a frantic explosion of lean muscle power
and a body launching into the lake.
he was 17 and in that moment gears somewhere in this world shifted,
numbers were crunched and
some profound device processed the seconds, linking and unlinking them with an automatic, well-oiled certainty
he was 17 and the number on his football jersey suited him like wool socks on winter feet
his stride under the lights a weekly prize to all hungry, bleacher-ed, washed-up life-hunters bundled against october-night chill-streaked skies
they drank hot cocoa and he took three sips of gatorade
he was 17 and his smile
and his curls
and we all hear about hospitals but
this feels different because
he was 17 and suddenly,
instantaneously
his body was just a beep
and his skin turned the color of the walls
first the ICU painted quick brushstrokes across his wrists
then it stopped giving a **** at all
and the water rushed endlessly, heartlessly.
when I shift through memories and
find his seven-year old face in my mind, i remember a gap
where he'd lost a front tooth and i remember sunlight streaming behind his hair
it was valentine's day and he gave me a small smile and a silver charm bracelet in a powder blue box.*
i shifted my feet
heard the snap of a binder closing
and all i could think about was
the oversimplification of words
and survivorship curves
and 17 years
and
and
piles of numbers spurting from a computer
and an echo of a splash.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
My house is a silent house
But listen closely
And you'll hear the ever-turning scratch of the ceiling fan
The constant ticking of the grandfather clock
Passing cars and heavy wind vibrating the windows
Looking out, the trees are sighing
Dying
Every leaf panicking with each eager gust
What is nature seeing?
What does it hear?
Observing me as I observe it
My slow and steady silent sighs
My thumping heart's persistent slamming
Increasing with speed at passing thoughts
My gulping down of liquid memories
My bones creaking and aching with pangs of rejection
Overgrown nails scratching at the surface of my skin.
Digging to get rid of an unceasing itch.
Untouchable.
Are the trees digesting that which my body refuses?
My teeth pressing themselves into the plush pillows of my lips
Keeping blood where my face has otherwise drained itself.
Pale as the undead.
Walking mindlessly.
Heartlessly.
Silent footsteps radiate this house's skeleton.
Rattling bones.
Climbing the ribcage,
Pulling up through the spaces
Sit for awhile. Watch the crimson muscle pump
The sound of my wandering eyes looking around for salvation.
The creak in my neck as I turn my head from its position of elongated staring.
Staring at nothing. Nothing is left.
Shifting uncomfortably in a chair too hard
Oceans built up against the dams behind my eyes waiting to be released into canals down my cheeks and neck
Settling into t-shirt stains that wont wash out
No one is left.
My house is a silent house.
Feel my rivers flowing.
Hold fast to them if you can and drown me.
And I will fall clamorously to sleep.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 11:52 PM UTC
“wordlessly watching, heartlessly helping “
an early morning insertion,
says writes a love poem of
necessity, no formal request,
but as I am quiet bound to
her chest rhyming rising, falling,
she, caught between eyes closed,
but ears open, in pretense of deep
sleeping,
leaves me treading words,
“wordlessly watching, heartlessly helping “
borrowed for reuse, as waves
that have been here moments ago,
but only now just splashing me
to a place of inspiration, I look
up at the jambalaya of verses,
and declare myself satisfied,
both in love and wish this:
a completed poem that satisfies a
noisy urging~surging to tell her I
love her without disturbing her
peaceful state of drowsy and
permitting me too
(thinking pause)
to
taste a piece
of peace, so
well completed
Oct 4, 2023
Oct 4, 2023 at 8:57 AM UTC
Sticks and stones
Is what they say
looking down as they throw
A cliche for strength in her face
Words they can't even begin to understand
No matter how hard they try
A pointless attempt
Until they've felt the sting of words lash like a belt when they hit
Degrading
Battering
Their every defense
Weakening
Causing doubt to the extent
Where they look in the mirror and the voices
They reflect
Others opinions becoming the definition of what their worth is
Sticks and stones
Is what they say
Oblivious to the fact she stares at a razor blade
While inside her mind all the names
grow louder
Screaming
Contemplating death of a being
with no realized purpose
Heartlessly their hate holds her captive
Sentencing her to a fate of silence
For whenever she opens her mouth to speak
Automatically she considers the negative feedback she'll receive
And quickly stops herself before the words fall out
At least someone has self control
The sea of insecurities she has to dive into everyday
Is nothing
To those who avoid her like the plague
Quick with the stones they cast
Ignorantly assuming
That the flaws they antagonize her for are of her choosing
So she's been branded
Hot and searing
What it feels like to be judged
As they create opinions regarding her existence
But a lack of acceptance is to blame
She prays for anything
Any way to escape
The constant ache, the ever present pain
Desiring to be invisible just for a day
In the end it's just a wish
Misunderstood
she goes off like a bomb in her school
One last cut, her last breath,
She blew up like a fuse
At all of those who ever judged her
Tormented her everyday
But when the report was filed and neatly put away
It was her who was held at fault
Never once was it taken into account
The triggers that were pulled by her murderers mouths
Sticks and stones
That's all they said
In one last guilt ridden breath
As they notice her blood left on their hands
Denying her perfection
Allowing her to believe death was worth it
To escape the hell in which she lived
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 7:22 PM UTC
the astrologer within
has made a prediction....
this heart has about
a billion beats left
so dance Kali
dance
fully dressed
or naked
not in the amphitheaters of Rome
but over my corpse
in the ghats of Manikarnika
where my cremated ashes
will be dissolved
in that same river
you so heartlessly condemned me to
as you cut a rug in ecstasy
with bloodied eyes,
forget not that
this body of mine was your theater
my eyes, the showcase lights
my in and outgoing breath
the music of the orchestra,
my heartbeat
the tintinnabulation of your anklets
the candle of love
that i lit and housed
within me
kept your id and ego
in perfect balance
this candle is fast melting
but it’s my tears
which now run like a river
that will remain forever
this show is closer to its end....
the sound that you now hear
which fill the moribund skies
emanate from the cosmic drum
which beats louder and louder
©2019
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 11:20 AM UTC
There's corruption here and all around the globe
At the hands of demons and a secret robe
A robe that covers the truth of ourselves
It's kept hidden on the Vatican's shelves
They don't want us to know who and what we are
If we did, they wouldn't have gotten so far
Sacred geometry
Free energy
How to manifest our reality
They control us with television and fear
Sending us subliminals hoping to smear
Our subconscious
Our love conscious
Replacing it with hate
They make us insecure while our egos inflate
Ego is hell if it's left unchecked
No one ever does it, that's why our planet is wrecked
Know thyself and you will see
What this planet can truly be
Beautiful and shared by you and me
The birds and the bees
The earth and the trees
It's here for us, to nurture and love
We need to be aware, not defile and shove
Chemicals in the dirt
Chemicals in our food
Can you hear the pain of the cow in the tune she mooed
She misses her baby that was heartlessly taken
She produces milk for humans but we are mistaken
It's not for us, not everything is
We can't smother and steal and make that our biz
We all deserve happiness and freedom to live
We shouldn't always take, we should always give
Our time and our energy to something big
Something that can benefit us all
Something that can make us stand tall
Something that's from our hearts
Not from our ego's survival smarts
We are smart in many other ways
That's why we need to nurture it before the end of days
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 9:38 PM UTC
Is it **** if you don't put up a fight or scream?
But you said stop,
and they didn't.
But you drank...
you were helpless and terrified.
"It was your choice", they say so heartlessly.
It was not.
"You never tried to escape", they say to me with disgust.
Their words destroy me inside.
I stood no chance against them, and I knew it.
Is it **** if you obeyed?
You wanted so badly to run but your body
wouldn't move
frozen with fear you remembered.
"Why didn't you scream then?" Is what they'll say.
I wanted so badly to push them off me
to run away and never come back,
to disconnect from my body,
to die.
I was encouraged so badly to report it,
"It will give you closure",
"You will inspire others",
"People will think you are so strong",
so I did.
But instead of praise I got criticism and disrespect.
I wanted so badly to come out with this ****
I was told I would be safe,
I was not.
But I reported it, it's my fault they would victim blame.
They would say since they're so successful,
she just wanted attention and money.
They let it slide because after all,
those boys are so young and talented,
why would we want to ruin their lives?
Yet mine is already ruined.
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 2:40 PM UTC
Love hides like a tiny insect,
Sometimes it flies analogously,
Then it finds a corner, just perfect,
For it to sit down and ponder,
Over all the people heartlessly rushing hither, thither, yonder.
Their hearts are fragile like glass,
So small, so brittle.
Hopes, both large and little
Reside amidst jungles of desires.
Everything is such a beautifully perplexing chaos,
That Life stares blankly, and admires.
The Beauty
The Beast
The unyielding Duty
Of Being, at least.
Look at me rant ceaselessly,
As my heart pounds harder than my chest can take.
You come here and leave immediately,
And the illusion dissolves; is all this just fake?
How wonderful I feel,
No matter what I write.
The world will never give me a seal,
Whether wrong, or contemptuously right.
Music rushes into my ears, flooding my canal.
Words and words, I think and think, but nothing seems final.
Appropriate is what they appreciate.
Everything else is just another reason to depreciate.
You have taught me all the ways in which I am not great.
Yet show me how to stop, and your temples will cringe with fret,
With regret.
Sing unto my untamable spirit, tales of clipping wings,
Or the melody of how a ruffled feather sings,
And I will break it down for you,
All the nuances,
Of our last rendezvous.
Dare to look into my eyes.
Even if you find nothing but empty sighs.
I am not made for your poetry.
I am drained now, reduced to nothing but grocery.
My earth derailed from its dreams,
Crashes against mirrors, stiflingly decorated with cuts molded against seams.
Fabrics, Feelings and Fragrances, all laced up.
Pour me some of that whiskey.
I have no glass, just a small, pointless cup.
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 2:27 AM UTC
Like having casual tea with a casualty,
you’re boring me to death.
Can you stop wasting air talking
of your last breath?
While heartlessly seeming,
while your heart’s still beating
you should put your pulse to use
For each song cannot function without a beating heart
And a beautiful one we’d lose
Do you want to have your sheet music
buried under sheets,
never to be seen nor heard nor felt
or even worth caring?
Let beauty flow through sorrowed songs,
with every breath you take
don’t bore us all to tears with such a
fatal mistake.. If life you take..
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 9:50 PM UTC
Demons of change taunted me
If I don’t do what I always did;
Fear of being strange haunted me.
What punishment for what I hid?
Maybe things will be a bit better
And settle down a bit after while
But life doesn’t seem to work well
Like when I could wink and smile.
My looks used to get me a ways,
Where mornings could turn into nights
I could have fun and party for days
And everything seemed fun and right.
I started out drinking and using
To overcome all my social fears.
It was just for weekends, partying,
But then it turned into many years.
I bought the drinks and the grass
And suddenly I was a welcome guy.
Later I too publicly fell on my ***
And nobody even asked me why.
But I caught myself holding ****
And ***** and keeping quiet
So nobody would come knocking
To party hearty and to try it.
And then one day, demons came
And heartlessly showed the truth;
They showed me myself by name,
I was no longer a pretty youth.
Only those as bad as I had become
Could stand to spend time with me.
I came to and realized I was numb
That my life had turned into tragedy.
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 3:24 PM UTC
Texas dairy farm killers crushed the skulls of my holy vessels in 2011.
Their animals spirits descended to heaven.
They bludgeoned their heads as many times as 7.
My defenseless, sweet, trusting, innocent babies.
Their fate of their existence shouldn't be a maybe.
Wilbur & Bo Bo .
Should not be Bacon at breakfast with hot cocoa.
To eat what is dead is sickness unsaid.
Cattle **** the serial killers "downstairs".
Televise the video to be seen everywhere.
So caravores will start to care.
They heartlessly murdered my cows.
My cows. Mine now & forever in this time.
A life for a life.
A precious calf's life devalued, abused, disrespected, & used.
Meat has no price tag.
Like a two faced old hunchback sea hag.
A priceless life without tombstones or mourning.
This corrupt caravore world is disturbing & my empathy for the animals is pouring.
Change this mother earth in the next morning.
Father sky watches their animal spirits soaring.
****** is their hobby.
They butcher & dismember a creatures body.
Every animal belongs to me.
They have a spiritual essence I can see.
All species created are mine.
Their ****** is not okay or fine.
The killers need to do time.
I guess justice is something we have to find.
Baby cow is delicate & needs respect & love.
Baby piglet where is mommy spirits above?
Baby Lamb I love you your a baby angel.
The sinners morals are distorted & tangled.
Their bodies should be undamaged & not mangled.
Not on a death pile of other livestock.
Their revenge should be on the farmer's ****
Protect the living of these farms.
To the livestock bring no harm.
Sadistic butchers disarm.
Stop the slaughter alarm.
These creatures are precious their souls innocent.
The lives priceless & mint.
Meat industries & factory farms get a hint.
Clueless evil attacks as their back is turned.
A blow to their fragile baby head is how hamburgers are made i learned.
The dairy farmers killed my cows.
Unspeakable evil without a why or how.
The slaughter across the lands spread like a flood.
More death in the mud.
They lay on the ground in a pool of blood.
Their life drains from their lifeless bodies.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:55 PM UTC
*We are being held hostage
by our fears,
We are fighting so hard
not to unleash our tears.
We are sinking
into the ground,
as we walk into the bellies
of many a horrific
and catastrophic storm,
We are trying
to hold our hearts together
because they are in pieces -
they were heartlessly broken to bits
and torn.
We are lost in a maze,
and we are completely out of breath,
We are staring into a big black hole -
our pending final resting place,
upon our lonely death.
We are spinning out of control,
We are scared of falling
into the dark void - that intimidating
black hole.
We are all alone in a world
that is unfamiliar to our minds,
and to our shattered souls,
in every way,
We are in survival-mode
every single mentally overwhelming,
challenging, but blessed, new day.
By Lady R.F ©2017*
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 6:20 AM UTC
You are always my exception
The one I impair my walls for
For just one drop of potential
The walls that end up throbbing in my veins
When you vigorously step on them to get to your goal
The only one who drives me to the highest level of weakness
by dismantling my morals and making me surrender my values.
You should be able to find them now somewhere lost in the atmosphere
You are one of life’s teachers
and I’m your student who fails your lesson every time
You dissolved all of my sanity with wine and turmoil
That night when you promised me sunshine
And said goodnight by heartlessly kissing my pride away
Because of you I am not myself
Your memories serve as a desperate attempt to fool my mind
into not caring for myself, but for your egocentric needs
I used to follow rules like they are carved in stone,
and my values had just landed on solid ground ...
Until you returned with your rehearsed apologies and believable vows.
You are my saddest, most tragic mistake
the one I'm ashamed to admit to life’s judges
but the one I keep coming back to
to insult my lunacy and unrelenting stubbornness.
You drink all of my pride as smooth as beer on a Friday night
You tear down my walls with nothing but effortless words
and leave me picking every piece from this raw, dusty ground.
You are the one known liar I keep believing in
You are the exception to my indestructible rules
the one mistake I never seem to learn from.
The one who builds up his ego by pushing me back down
You should be so proud to know you have won once again at your own game.
You should be proud to know you are my one and only exception.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 11:12 PM UTC
They took them…
With a *** shovel and beards engulfed with disguise,
By fire, by force and harm
They heartlessly took them…
Loading with a military van from the snare, the school
Sabotaging their education and jubilance
At the brink of our oculus, like a hot blade through margarine,
Like the evanescence of dew upon new dawn,
They were gone…
We cajole to Haram Islamic militants,
Not the slavery we signed up for,
Yet this is our story, but not our destiny.
It is profane and sacrilegious to talk slavery upon our realms.
Our ancestral dormancy and Jesus crucifixion outlines our history.
We were untrammeled...but today,
Our existence is dreary and clouded by mystery
We count minutes turning into tormented hours,
In lament of our own flesh and blood
They took them..
with needles and stylus they pinched poked and taunted us,
Like a bunch of sponges filled with voids,
Our hearts are painfully porous,
Dope them with defects,
Bring back our girls…
Haram saboteurs came in with a saber,
They took them…
How less of a man to not respect the words of the late Tata Madiba,
When he said"Never, never and never again shall it be that this beautiful land
Will again experience the oppression of one by another".
There will be war upon the element of Haram when Jesus intervene..
Bring back our girls..
(Nigreian acsent)
Chinekeee, man of Haram, bring back our girls_oo
I beg, why go they take?
Eeeh, god will go get you one day,
With our teary Nigerian eyes, will we ever see?
Adedagbo, our crown of joy ?
Aduke, our beloved ?
Afolayan Walking in majesty...
Agbogu, God settles dispute…
Bring back our girls.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC
Many consider terrorism and religion to be synonymous, consciously or subconsciously...and I don't know exactly why.
But religion and terror were never the same and never will be. Religion is a way of life and an assumed path towards the great soul. Terrorism means cutting people off from that very path and the way of life.
I don't know much about any region coz' Mr. X never had any religion even though 'I' have one. But whatever I've come to know of religions, I've understood that religion is a beautiful experience in itself and every religion is intensely complex and extremely simple. Its a way of life which has its own faults and own benefits. And when you see from a different perspective altogether, like I do now, you'll see that all religions are one, just like every human on this planet. We're all the same and even our religions have so much in common that we often realise, we have just one common goal. To reach the Supreme. To reach what is unknown through this path of life. Thus according to logic, as we have the same goal, we must unite to reach it. But that's not how it works in this world. Does it?
Maybe its because we have forgotten what Religion is or what we are looking for. We have forgotten God.
And yes, I do use the term 'God' even though I'm an 'all logic' person because even I believe that there's so much unknown out there, that only what is 'unknown' decides every aspect of this Universe. Only 'God' decides and only 'God' humbles us by this extreme expanse of the 'creations'.
The Muslims were never in fault neither were the Christians nor the Hindus. Not even any other religion which ever will be a part of human history can have any fault. It was just a group of people who infused terror in the minds of people from the very beginning and this will keep happening till the very end. Its a way of life you know.
I make this comparison here not because I believe subconsciously that these terms can be compared, but because I see people mindlessly and heartlessly polluting noble routes which were once mapped by the noblest minds years ago. Yes, with time the routes must change but they'll never falter to lead us to where we want to go.
And amidst all this terror and chaos we just have to keep one thing in mind. Religion and terror were never the same and never will be. Don't revolt against religion or even make harsh comments against it, but revolt against terrorism. Revolt against the terrible brutality caused by a human against another human. Revolt against what YOU feel is wrong from the deepest corners of your heart. It's all up to you now. Do what is right. Revolt in your own way but do it right. Don't think of changing the world. Just change someone's mind.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 4:35 AM UTC
what is this familiar feeling?
sunlight shines through the sheets
my eyelids too thin to keep shielded,
or dreaming. fast like a Cadillac, ready
to attack the first cup of coffee, the "last"
spliff bowl, confused conversations, heavy
fingers typing carefully, backspace backspace
backspace backspace, erase slowly, think
harder less, heartlessly charmless, bad
luck, wouldn't have guessed this
past-track record would keep
repeating, over and over,
until all sound is lost
except for the tck
tck tck of each
letter, as I
create.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 2:36 PM UTC
I built you a bridge,
then I broke it down heartlessly when you were halfway across
.......
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC
The Taunting Trickster
Twisted the truth...
He heartlessly
Sat silently seething
Smothering
Quite quietly
Utmost utterly
Stoically smooth!
Loki lingering
Leaving lopsided loops
The Taunting Trickster
Twisted the truth!
May 4, 2021
May 4, 2021 at 6:49 AM UTC
the paved country road swells under the heavy footfalls of the weary warrior
it is the dawn of march and the roses will remember the blush of death no more.
no more that is due to the sullen rock which the freshly smeared crimson slumbers upon
no more that is due to the holy droplets hauntingly trailing their way home from the sky
like divine reprisal
the heavens cry the loss which will be remembered no more that is due.
no more that is due to the village folks strutting about
rejoicing the return of the weary warrior
and his dripping sword.
no more that is due to the chaste maiden weeping in the wet meadow
for her freedom is gained
and another one’s lost.
the weary warrior moves along the muddy path still
while the dripping drizzle heartens his tired soul
for he know that someone does weep for the life which has been forcibly and heartlessly taken that day
that warm day of april struck by lightning and thunder and fragile fury.
it is said that to slay a monster creates another
and to save a life a debt is repaid
for the cost of life
is a life still.
and yet the warrior moves along and does not weep
he’s coming home
and does not stop his heavy footfalls nor the beating of his erratic heart which has been yearning for it.
the fire will burn the remains of the day no more
but the fire was home too
the fire was life
and it has been extinguished.
the wary long-battled warrior is coming home through the cave and the meadow and the country path
for he has seen and lived it all and can never turn away from the scorching tear in his chest
and the village is his home no more.
the village is water and rain and it will not stop just like his tired steps
the whole world has sank away into the water
therefore the tired warrior does not return to the world
and instead he decides to return home.
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 10:17 AM UTC
Night's stunning designs,
in darkness and light patterns,
were squashed heartlessly, within minutes
by the swift hands of dawn.
Apr 10, 2012
Apr 10, 2012 at 11:33 AM UTC
A Heartless act
#
I let you put your signature
in my throbbing heart,
how could you heartlessly erase it,
unheeding my pleadings and part?
#
Wistful thought about the one who left
#
Without a word, she left,
her soft whispers still reverberate,
would she remember our days together,
I realize, her silent presence was my succor.
#
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 2:47 PM UTC
Withered Rose
Life seems but a cosmic speck death did so easily and heartlessly fleck
Birth a struggle death’s final act to earthen care bid farewell lie in sweetest repose
Touch and sight with hearing the bond completed in this sojourn it does weave
On our hearts this engram love has etched in deadliest silence torn they leave
Death’s claws scrape emotional devastation left in the wake lost beating heart
Agonies rawest pain did burn within the forlorn tortured brain
Disembodied confused your spirit follows them In part
Time begins to shrink the limbo again seemingly whole
Reality loneliness and longing for the soul so fair
Salvation does materialize at the point they become our inspiration
Every earth bound trait of theirs priceless gems we wear
The cold barred from the heart love the strongest seal
Distant footsteps I hear our beloved draws near
Union is found across the abyss life the victor
The receding years fall away revealing clearer sights of glory
I now can attest God knows best how to write a love story
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 3:42 PM UTC
I’ve always believed in logic more than love,
logic lets you know when you’re a mule.
Using your head first means no one can hurt you.
The trembling clutch of fear falls short,
numbing cold-front warms and mobilizes.
Still, without contemplation I would die for you,
and would you expect less from your knight?
Someday I will die for you,
and you will watch with clapping hands,
applauding my selfless actions,
now still able to applaud others.
After all, you would not heartlessly
cast off your veil.
Even rocks and trees sing the obvious truth,
love shrouds all we know in darkness.
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 2:57 PM UTC