"hiders" poems
some times I believe,
not think,
but believe,
that there are indeed little figures in the grass,
brushing my ankles with tickles and laughs
sometimes in mid of velvet black,
can see them waving their six fingered hands
in front of the lights across the bay,
for the twinkles are different, their winkles,
semaphoric, euphoric, random but patterned
every know and every then,
could they be inside me,
inciting riots, sugar sharp pains,
in places where pain has no place purposed,
feel them lifting my-back-of-the-neck hairs,
at scary movies, making an ear itchy, why?
these elusives
are fairie godmothers,
personal angels,
hobgoblins,
shoulder sitters,
amusing muses
ear whisperers,
of new poem titles
sock stealers,
shoelace knoters,
giggling self-amusers,
ever present, ever invisible,
hat hiders, wet spot slider installers
you say you know them too?
cousins perhaps, for my elusives,
could not be here and there,
for they are:
as I write,
as I speak,
this very second
fluttering my eyelids,
those rascals,
to lay me down to sleep,
in cherishing tenderness me to keep
for they know too well,
sleep,
is an elusive of a different kind,
like peace of mind,
but they do their best,
to distract me unto rest
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 11:15 PM UTC
#
Sitting here in front of this screen
my Artist Peppino, across my thigh—
(the greater, for the time being,
giving way to the lesser)
One day, I will be able to breathe life
into your strings, my love…
the way I do words onto paper.
And on that fine, glorious day
I will no longer need these cheese-dick,
stupid ******* online poetry sites
to bring forth the music of my soul.
Nor will I continually need to wade through
this never-ending barrage of classic hiders
and their bastardization-like misuse of poetry—
in order to hide behind the very words
that should be given the permission to make them become,
truly known.
There are those who thrive on this..
this currency of curated words,
seduction dressed as scripture,
all twisted into the soft ropes of poetry
to bind the vulnerable,
to rob the soul of its own infusion..
the self from the soul,
the soul from the self..
*--until all that remains
is the quiet, starving shell
of a heart displaced,
an identity diluted,
left wandering inside
the sociopathic intent
to truly bastardize poetry’s
life-giving potentiality
into nothing more than self-indulgent gain--*
always at the cost of the reader,
who, starving for something real,
somehow falls for their twisted game.
****
eh..
There is no alone-ness within the magnificent resonations
of the perfectly plucked string
of the most perfect, of guitars.
Like this one, sitting right here
in my lap.
#
Feb 4, 2020
Feb 4, 2020 at 9:40 PM UTC
I see
shadows
movement
hiders
I feel
scared
terified
help me
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 9:14 AM UTC
I'm a liar
And a sinner
Some are gamblers
Others winners
There are riders
Live-to-die-ers
And ones unlike you
She's a cheater
He's a keeper
Many blind to see
There are hiders
Some are whiners
They sound the same to me
Wish we may
They wish they might
That maybe they can change tonight
From sinners, lovers
And ****** to mothers
God, I'd promise if you'd help me tonight
Let it last
Just one last time
Then take these labels out of sight.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
I miss you with every fiber of my being
with every emotion I am capable of feeling
with everything I am or will ever be.
I am enraged by the very thought of them
that makes every drop of my blood boil
those truth hiders, secret keepers, and liars.
I weaken with every breath I take
every time I know I should push it all away
that every part of me needs to let go.
'Cause life goes on, or so they say
but with it goes my vivid memories
living without you hasn't made me stronger, but is killing me from the inside out
Apr 4, 2011
Apr 4, 2011 at 10:51 PM UTC
You took me to the very upstairs of the church,
and then even higher
to the bell tower,
where we pulled the rope and sounded the bell
after church was over. Then we ran away
and hid under the pews.
We must have been good hiders, because
we never got in trouble.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 5:38 PM UTC
There are things to worry
See in a hurry or a blurry
Move or push in a scurry
Yes even thoughts to bury
But a false premise builder
Often strikes match flash light
Whoa oh how bright oh bright
Let shine and blind bewilder
Imbedding their charges against others to come
Looking at the world in black or white smothers to some
Whispering character assassinations
Then twist and turn and speaking bass drum
Punches, scream oh no accept reply
Dive swim down deep pressure diving
Breaststroke splash splash accusation conniving
Slow blow mean demean, all to be sight unseen
Hide hide, what you?
Hey say, are often the hiders themselves
A skew, how shrew, the essence, yes the crux
Full one side story oh there is never
Force grab oh don’t push neither left nor right lever
Oh middle lever free is never to be oh unfree decree
Everyone forever on the mend
Though never even a soft only a hardened bend
Why oh why, why not to me now unfriend?
Try I to comprehend!
I trip tripness darkness spread
So must free flow words here this letterhead
Mind fever drugging underflow
No not no not yes knot oh complete knot tightening blow
Cheers, punch gut to me inner character assassination
My heart covered by trepidation
Fast forward roundabout rewind harsh lamentation
One sided black or white, out of spite and protection might
Middle ground oh of constant unbound
Oh why middle never to be truly found
To the mirror is the appearer
And yes all humanity can be vanity
So seek sanity says *** to kettle
Oh what, is there nothing to settle?
As member of humanity I am
Realize hurt I may have caused
Though not mal-intended
Yes not so intended to those befriended
Though deep down result is same
I neither disclaim my blame nor take crooked aim
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 10:17 PM UTC
#~M Vogel*
(sequestered from the status quo)
Sitting here in front of this screen
my Artist Peppino, across my thigh--
[the greater (for the time being)
giving way to the lesser]
One day, I will be able to breathe life
in to your strings, my love..
the way I do words, on to paper
And on that fine, glorious day
I will no longer need these cheese-dick
stupid ******* online poetry sites
to bring forth the music of my soul
Nor will I continually need to wade through
this never-ending barrage of classic hiders
and their bastardization-like misuse of poetry~
in order to hide behind the very words
that should be given the permission to make them
become, truly known.
There is no alone-ness within the magnificent resonations
of the perfectly plucked string
of the most perfect, of guitars
Like this one, sitting right here
in my lap.*
#
Aug 24, 2020
Aug 24, 2020 at 2:45 PM UTC
Woven in ivory petals that adorn its
motions, a visual representation of
peace upon the visual stimulus that
will fly into the yonder of wishes.
But within this parcel of bleached
entitlement hiders a delirium that
isn't pondered upon with eyes
visualizing are secret not wanting.
For the optic perceptions are sunken
in extinction, a door to the soul and these
are parched darker than oblivions depths.
Tears never fall in the depths of a void.
"Beauty has a secret, look within its sight,
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 6:19 PM UTC
Jesus , loves the hurting, the angry, the has been .
The runners, the hiders, the ones that stands out.
He loves the addict, the speeders, the deceivers.
The players, the user, the controller as well.
He loves the merciful, the giver, and the obedient.
For he loves everyone , even the ones that no one else does.
For he created each of us, in his perfect image .
But the world has gotten a hold of us and change us.
But in the very beginning we created after him.
So it's not too late to run back to him, our Creator.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 8:28 PM UTC
Go and hide,
I'll get the shovel,
Where's your pride,
Why the scuffle?
The police are coming,
I said conceal yourself,
Stop your bumbling,
You need my help.
Police will find us,
If you don't vanish,
You have my trust,
Forget the anguish.
Behind the trees,
Don't make a noise,
Don't even sneeze,
Where's your boys?
GOD DAMM IT. THEY FOUND ME.
Guess I'll count to 20.
You guys go hide.
Seekers are cops
Hiders are robbers.
Welcome to a cross between cop seekers and robber hiders.
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 5:40 AM UTC