"hurst" poems
Let's make a toast partake if you hear my voice beyond the coasts.
To our past the hurst, the Many learning curves buried in the sands of time.
To our here and now The good the bad and the ugly take a bow.
To our future I hope you never
come.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
Hallucinations in life"s desert accompanied with my unquenchable thirst
Lacerations fade to scars to prove luck"s point that it wasn"t near the worst
Temptations conspire with times inevitable push as we all learn we"re cursed
Plantations wear us down as we are all slaves until our souls have traversed
Fascinations are shared before we hitch a ride on the grim reaper"s dark hurst
Elations are defiled like a child"s smile transformed after the last bubble"s burst
Cremations are compiled as ashes drift away off cliffs and are forever dispersed
Vibrations guide us through the universe so please join me as we dive head first
Take my hand my friend and lets go be free
No need to worry about having any eyes to see
trust me as our souls dance in the wandering sea
And accompany me through this glorious eternity
We are Universally linked paralleled to every degree
Soul searching for the destination that they call journey
Brave souls are blessed with this human shell as a test
A life materially possessed leads to a lonely empty nest
So don't waste time depressed on this short epic quest
You"ll forget all the rest when our souls have coalesced
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 6:16 PM UTC
knitted on a dodgy bobble hat
or a favourite chunky jumper
from scandanavia, or yorkshire
untasteful but definitely practical..
smelly and friendly like a wet dog
pliable like warm playdoh...
patulioi oil
will always remind me of you...
'a hippy place in my heart...'
like a beachnut,
no, a beach hut
shelves littered with the flotsam of our throwaway society,
flip flop corner...
19:10
some random hermit crab making his escape from
the dripping bundle of just found fishing net
down through the crack in the floor...
into the sand
and back to the sea.
the moths and midges gravitate towards the fossils and rock shelf
because that's where the gaslamp gently hisses.
suncracked and faded
pieces of
70's buckets and spades flicker in the corner
between the scraps of rope
and the deflated inflatables
and the bottlecap damian hurst
next to sea purse corner,
biological tendrils contrasting the ever stoic rubber ducks
who escaped from the pacific gyre...
panning around, the smartphone registers,
the garish tatty windbreak
and the 90's ghettoblaster
which still has some juice left from those batteries
we bought at the gift shop...
last year...
for our imaginary beach hut....
in the outer hebrides...?
you take the camping gaz from the cupboard
and put the kettle on...
the beach is desert island white
the sea azure like a gaudy 70's postcard
the wind tugging relentless through our hair.
but the pub is warm and friendly
where grizzled fishermen philosophise
hardily. by the fire.
between warming shots of smokey single malt.
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 6:47 PM UTC
We were suckleberry sonnets
Crabapple tree climbers
Little girls in pink frills
With fire drills in our heads
from our mother's
They told us
"don't let a boy touch you"
We were rockets aimed for the moon
We always came a little too short
I always thought it was just me
Part of me always knew
I always knew it couldn't be right
I was nine
I wanted a boy to teach me things,
things my father never could
He was fourteen, I'd known him all my life
I liked his trampoline
But his hands
I ******* hated his hands
They tugged and pulled at me during hide and seek
He whispered
"Stop crying"
(I was always asking for it)
He could see it when I smiled
I guarded my smile like I guarded his secret
My nine year old mind didn't want it anymore
I wanted him less than I wanted to erase it
Erase the things he'd planted so mischievously
I was an empty nine year old casket
I rode my bike like a hurst
I wore my turtleneck like a bulletproof vest
I thought he couldn't hurt me there
I was an angry sailor without a single burst of wind
A single burst of freedom
It's all I wanted
all I ever needed
I needed someone to free my from the grips of the Devil
I prayed to my mother's God
He didn't answer for two years
I thought he would free me like the night
I thought he would let go like a never ending story
But he's always been a part of my story
My suckleberry sonnet
my first love
my broken mother
all my nightmares
Thanks, *******
I don't let him ruin me anymore
He doesn't own me like he used to
He no longer steers my so easily swayed ship
He's just a piece
(A piece of **** of course)
But only a small piece of me
I ride my bike like it's a steed now
I don't wear turtlenecks
I don't own a bulletproof vest
He's gone
I'm still here
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
Be kind to this Lady
This beautiful girl
She has a heart full of dreams
And a head full of curls
I know this because I've known her
A lifetime, before you came
When her days were spent with me
Before she ever heard your name
So please tell me you'll adore her
From this wedding to the hurst
Do everything I can't do
Because I loved her first.
Aug 19, 2012
Aug 19, 2012 at 3:37 PM UTC
We once made
A pact
To always remain
The same
For us not to
Congregate with America
Were not what's become
Call me the slum
I'll make you ***
Give the old dog a bone
Where I saw your daddy
On the other side of the road
****
You should see
what they say about me
Call me touch and go
**** them
Little hoes
There ******
Don't want to own up too
Being a men
Being a woman
But us
Were what the real stuff
Is made up of
People hate that
We live
And we love
Every day
Every way
And when we hate
We pray
Trying to block us
From their reality
Sitting down
Watching their TV
Dyeing free
Ain't even got **** to read
I miss calling it
Pizza from the bin
That the last man
Tossed in
A waste
But my sin
I'm a Smoking *****
Calling ground score
Lighting half butts
Kicking me were it hurts
I'm riding in a hurst
Puking up my guts
On society
Leaving
Thinking
It's better than me
Na
I left it a long
Time ago
Thought you'd know by now
Eazy doez it
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 2:48 AM UTC
She's soft, furry, tender
She's hot when I enter
Jumps on the comfy couch
Claws, hook me in the back
Ready to attack, the mac
Thirsty and hungry for food
Perfect times in the mood
Pounding it cuz I'm rude
Remember I'm your dude
Your favorite, your dream
Your imaginations best
Never stop until I bust
Pleasing your squirts burst
In a hurst, slow it if starts to hurt g spot to make it work
Make it wet I can surely bet
Dripping, make you tripping
Close your eyes, relax lay back, hold on tight, get ready for the fight, just please don't bite, dribble the ******* licking the picking, after I'm sticking deep in, all in to the belly, feeling all the jelly, groan make you moan, make you feel the best ever, my antidepressant last forever, drooling all over the sheets, when our bodies meet, sweating pores left when I'm finish complete, leave you knocked fast asleep, holding hands in the oceans sand...
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 12:09 AM UTC
There was an Old Person of Hurst,
Who drank when he was not athirst;
When they said, 'You'll grw fatter,'
He answered, 'What matter?'
That globular Person of Hurst.
1.2k
Life is sometimes a precious waste, it's been given up on and its been erased. We put on a fake smile so no one knows the hurt deep within our hearts, we screamed for help as loud as we could from the start. Our screams fall on deaf ears, but now our dreams are our worst fears. The reality is no longer wanting to live but it's now how much more can we give. No one sees the pain, the hurt, the sadness or the tears, but they only see what we want them to see not what we see as we look in the mirrors. We are pros at hiding all our emotions, just so someone won't figure out that we're only going through the motions. At Night that's when it's the worst, we hope to make it through the day and not have to be put in a Hurst. Don't cry for me or say you were always there, But realize that this pain is unfair. It takes lives way to fast, so open your eyes because no matter what you won't be pasted. The cuts and scares show how real this can be, no matter how hard it is to see. Reach out to the ones that seem like they it all because you'll find out its nothing like you thought at all. Its easy to die but harder to live, but death seem like the only way out when you gave all you could give. This is real and in the blink of an eye it will find someone to steal. Be strong and never give in, fight for your life until the very end. You'll see that there is always light at the end of the tunnel, just like after a storm and the rain becomes Settle. Remember that no matter how much hurt and pain this life has gave, it can all be wiped away because happiness saves. Love yourself with all that you can, and remember when everyone else's fall you have the strength to stand!
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 11:10 AM UTC
the deep space surrounds my heart
in age old Star crossed charts
my being lives a little
in the vastness of life we remember each other
the living knows this life being but a few million
who believe in the importance of living being
as I travel in space on my way with the Stars
how small are we 6 quarts of blood
I arrange life all the time I want to be sir real
whether love fashion poetry all words of the divine
I look in the mirror the vast Universe is me
my dreams of living coming from the divine
starts when I am three
I have collected much information
all leading me to be superior
to death from life love success
I am some BODY and yet the spirit owns
co Hurst me oh melancholic syndrome
my nappie head between my ears
this vision shared in paradise
is the love of of a life time its all about me
for you in the wide expanse
our Universe giving us life
this is our eternity live long and prosper
a life a grain of sand washing on the beach
blowing in the wind
Earth bound love...
gjmars 7/14/15
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 10:53 PM UTC
Another poem that is all true
images of white horses
*
after cutting the green and long grasses
we like to call a lawn
and returning into my house of gloom
i hear what was the sound of houses hooves
*
jumping up and look out the window of my room
what did i see but two white horses
pulling a white hurst a lady and man in black top hats
then a stream of long black cars
*
when i did start thinking what a strange day
another sound did come my way
it was a low and distent humming
and then at my window a cloud of bees
*
someone said he that knows really knows
but really knows nothing at all
i really must get out more
if only to see the world go bye
Jul 12, 2012
Jul 12, 2012 at 3:21 PM UTC
i'm so blessed and i don't fully understand it
i don't know how to really comprehend how good my life is
i guess if i just got to take a peak at the future
and see
what is in store for me
it would make this struggle
easier to swallow
and to know
that my sturggle will probably be worse, or there will be perseverance
either way tells me that i need to enjoy this moment
I don't know man
I just
feel like that you know
and I just wish there was a way
it's too bad
and it all fades away
it's too bad
but it all goes away
and that's too sad
it'll never get better
always worse
i mean it'll get better
cuz it has
and my life has been better
but it'll always hang there
like a scab
i feel like it's getting better
yet
i wish it got worse
for the better
i wish i had her
til the hurst
i wish she was with me to ride
while i make some cheddar
it's too bad she's gone
and it didn't work out
i wish we coulda worked out
wish we could have worked it out
no commitment in this world today
just a couple that gives up
says no and moves on
goes to someone else
even though there was something there
we aren't something you can just forget
yet we dismissed
and kept it moving
as if
there was nothing else brewing
no more love to be given
we can't take it
we don't want to give
we want to steal and run
****** and go
and never trust again
until the next door opens
then what?
what will we do with our golden opportunity?
will we save it
and decide to cherish
man
i'm too smart to make any woman miserable
to make myself miserable
we could have done it
you know
we could have done it
it's the most disappointing thing in the world
it's so hard
i don't know what to do
i just keep waiting for her
to see her come
and get off the bus
or drop in at a show
say hi to me in public
just so i can ignore her
and walk away
what a ****** up life we live
where that is what we have to do
to each other
to survive
the way we want to
man
the pain i live with
it's too hard
it's too much
but i fight
i stay alive
live to see another one
and as each day goes by
i just wish i met another one
but i can't even begin
to open my heart
because it still feels like
it hasn't finished closing
and in closing
i'd like to say
that i am thankful that she made me feel this way
although so much pain, so much hate i feel
the **** was something that was actually real
and now i know that i'm alive
and i'll continue to strive
forward and on
i live a blessed life
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 1:10 AM UTC
Rocking around the rock tonight
Rocking around the rock tonight TicToc
Money comes in at 12 o'clock
Gone before long gouched out
On my mother’s couch eating
Al l the cupboard’s out
Rocking around the clock right now
Clucking for my white and brown
Rocking around the rock tonight
What would my poor dad think of me now
I’m even robbing shops and old lady’s now
Sorry miss I need my brown
Rocking around the rock and brown
Clucking stealing from my mother now
I’m even taking children’s savings for brown
Coffin Hurst and no one around
The dirt is why they call it brown
Rocking around the clock tonight
Nothing around but lots of night
Written
By
Daryll smith
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 6:12 AM UTC
its almost unearthing
so many facets of life,
the one undeserving
thats the moment we choose
cuts like a butter knife
its our line
on my table
that crossed his mind
not a book or fable
just rides her spines
like the co-withoutcane or able
mouths the time
and only ***** her navel
paths or signs
**** deals or crime
alpine 12 box
right out of the green outback
called her mable
youre just a dangerous *****
and i want faithful
slavery for sin
ninja
i just want to be forgiven
im dressed in black
waiting for the hurst
im the one in the back
tempted to call for an angel
reminisce on girls that loved ****
and just went with it even tho it hurts
youre now thinking
so thats why this ***** mother *******
in church
resting his hands on mother mary
is how it works?
grab them beads for god and shove them
wear it bursts
im not hating on any religion
its just faith isnt worth mentioning
without some questioning to listening
im not saying anything is forbidden
go ahead hold your books in the
air
call me none christian
show me god and how much you
care
i doubt he listens
go home and practice the same
or just realize you are like everyone else and we dont know who to blame
for why were so ****** up not sane
but thats why i choose to remain my claim as the only thing not pure or plain
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 12:23 AM UTC
Now your fighted lightening brightens defeats
Your off-White Knight thunder frightens me
This hiss from those lips of this person I've missed
Tightens kissing fists of a ****** horizon seen
Mist heightened
I do not wish to be enlightened
I do not hope to hear your throat excitened
Around sounds that expound my stuttering ground
Or surround a thousand profoundly aroused frowns
By all counts by now they hound
My surmounting cloud
My sound impound
Say stray failures are bound round brain behaviours
Claim they wound down your feigned brave nature
These sharp verses start to form disturbing curses
Hearts should favour a saviour of more deserving or curbing regalia
Critical, it's **** literal
It's typically, empirically, egotistically pivotal
I pine to hide inside a hurst of worse design
I am not diacritical
I cannot align my mind with a realistic vine
Of my own bemoaned confines
And now this line of finely timely chides
I'm dumb and undone
Numb hums begun
When this thunder does bedizen you,
The lightening does enlighten, true
But the prices are not my vices rightened for you,
I've surmised a prize of a more biting view
It might be right to lose sight
Of the delights of tonight's plights
I slight fights
I blight contrite bending
But this ripe, spiteful spate of trite infights trending
Indicts a tending
Benights, invites, ignites a new intending
A descent now rendered impending; an ending
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 6:22 AM UTC
Am staring to get confused.
It Hurst not knowing what to do.
A pass that I don’t know if to let go.
Different emotions going tour my mind and soul.
They're a lot of good and bad memories going that the same time.
Screaming out loud inside my mind.
Feeling that I can't escape from a pass.
How can I stop feeling the way am feeling?...
Trying to scream for help!
But am afraid to get judged.
For still wanting a pass love.
By Lily
Jun 15, 2017
Jun 15, 2017 at 5:23 PM UTC
In a classroom of twenty or more,
The teacher walks in with a thought of pride,
"I am here," She thinks to herself,
And we all stand to wish, "Good Morning".
The Teacher teaches Literature,
The Teacher is a lady of fifty-five,
The teacher walks in every day,
With a lot of pride, especially on Saturdays.
She prepares the lesson plans,
Fused with the state as to what is to be taught,
As to what is to be reasoned, and what is to be asked,
She teaches all students who belong to a class.
She addresses the students, calling names and more,
Talks in all platitudes, and looks down upon the floor,
She teaches all students, about romantic outbursts,
She praises Keats and Tagore, but not Beckett or Hurst.
But one fine Monday, there was he,
A Cherry Little boy, Big eyed, Twenty three,
Asked a question about false nationhood or so,
She was a teacher with a lot of pride, as you know...
With a thought of tasty theories, and elitism in mind,
She bashed and washed him down into the drain,
As to not him, but his hopes were drowned,
And this is how the teacher throttled "The Questions,
Which were all around...."
But In a classroom of twenty or more,
'These' students never fail to follow,
'The' teacher walks in every day,
And usually, teaches Literature, on endless Saturdays!
She teaches approaches and Literature, on Saturdays.
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 12:50 PM UTC
Now I see
What I should have done, what I should have been
I don´t hate you...
I won´t hate you!
I just saw in you and him
What you and I didn´t had
And I´m sorry if i, me, myself was not capable
Of being as good of a ridding angel as he is
i just feel so small right now
As if my heart is about to explode out my chest
it all hurst so much now
how could i waste so much time
in someone who doesn´t even love me
Now I see,
But you don´t see me anymore don´t you...
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 8:39 PM UTC
My parents didn't raise a fighter but its what I am.
So when They give up it kills me
And when I fight and push against what's socially acceptable it hurst them.
Sorry Dad
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 8:30 PM UTC
I don't know but you've been Told
Chasin Power and greed will Rot your Soul
Look at the World with Open Eyes
You'd be surprised at who's got stuff to Hide!
------------Left Right ----- Left Right -----------
The First is Last and Worst are First
Their power schemes put men in Hurst
Justify the Genocide
Man verses Man We Devour in Stride
Sound Off
Hum an
Sound Off
Be In
Sound Off
Human Beatings
BEINGS!?
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 7:01 AM UTC
Rain drops shell station road
Hurst turns point thirty three
Degrees north-west-west. See,
The quiet stones ahead
Lower the lead scarred flesh,
The soul of this marred son,
Into the dirt it laboured.
How many times should
Gorgythion's root-stem
Lose its petal-wreathed head?
Jun 26, 2020
Jun 26, 2020 at 7:57 AM UTC
All of these were at the Tate;
I know they were, for I took notes:
The plaster cast of an empty space;
View of the Thames with Pleasure Boats.
I know they were (for I took notes)
on open view, but Art? Well, maybe.
View of the Thames with Pleasure Boats;
Mother Feeding Crying Baby
on open view, but Art? Well, maybe.
– unless they take me for a fool.
Mother Feeding Crying Baby;
Man in Orange Shirt, on Stool.
– Unless they take me for a fool,
Damien Hurst and Jackson *******
Man in Orange Shirt, on Stool,
saying, "What a load of -------s!"
Damien Hurst and Jackson *******
Couple Drinking at a Bar,
saying, "What a load of -------s,
"A plywood model of a car!"
Couple Drinking at a Bar;
Monet's Waterlilies, and
a plywood model of a car;
fruit decaying on a stand.
Monet's Waterlilies, and
People on an Escalator;
fruit decaying on a stand.
No, skip that one; we'll come back later.
People on an Escalator;
a film of two men standing still.
No, skip that one; we'll come back later.
I'm certain that they'll be there still.
A film of two men standing still;
the plaster cast of an empty space.
I'm certain that they'll be there still.
All of these were at the Tate.
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 12:45 AM UTC
These nascent
Symptoms are growing
In intensity
I’m hot. I’m cold.
I’m hot. I’m cold.
Menopause is under sold
This is what happens
when you get old
There’s no set age
Every woman is different
Life is the gauge
This whole fiasco
could have been avoided
Had my doctor told me
Of the possibilities
Quick lickety-split
Jump up
leg cramp
Ready to set in
Cramps are not just
in the leg,
the upper arms,
the middle of your back
It’s just like that
No rhyme no reason
it’s menopause season
It’s more than just a cramp.
That won’t let go.
It seems to reach
My very soul.
Just when you hit
Your all time low,
there’s something new
Starting to grow
Restless leg syndrome
that’s a mouthful
The legs, have a mind
of their own
It drives me mad
This is not driving Miss Daisy
It’s driving me crazy
I wish I only had these conditions
Just add him to the list
Breath, focus, cry
Wondering why
Getting through it
Stay calm,
it will go away
In a bit
These can be extremely bad
The worst condition I’ve had
I never imagined
There was something
worse
than body cramps
Restless leg syndrome
will make you beg
Please stop
Bending twist hop
God help
I’m at Wits end
Too much to contend
literally are not sure
what comes next
Perplexed
Body cramps vs Restless leg
Which is worse
Order me a casket,
A long black hurst
Can you get them
both together?
Thankfully, not yet
Jump before the
Leg sensation sets in
The body in a tailspin
Dead tired I need sleep
Life can’t get more bleak
Standing waiting for relief
rocking back and forth
Rational emotions head north
Is this par for the course?
Questioning my sanity
By duration immensity
by the side of my bed.
The sensation grows
lacking body self control
How long before they let go?
this new phenomenon
Does a number
In your head.
Women
One sure sign
You’re in menopause;
When you’re
standing
in the kitchen
Naked
with your head
in the freezer
And your husband
Treads lightly with Care
Broken egg shells everywhere
Does not dare engage
His wife a wild
Animal in a gilded cage
A quick glance
he Looks away
quickly walks by
He hears her muffled cries
Caution in his eyes
He has a million questions
Does not ask why
In frustration
All you can do
Is cry
Inspired song
(This is perfect)
Doctor My Eyes
By Jackson Browne 1972
May 30, 2025
May 30, 2025 at 12:35 AM UTC