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"imbedded" poems
Look at me and I'll look at you Give to me what you used to Do to me what you used to do Kiss me Reminisce with me Extend your hand Pull my fingers into yours Leading me through those double doors Mess up your bed My heart My head Piece together your reasons in a picture you like Shatter my picture on the floor Step tip-toe around the pieces Don't cut your feet on your way out the door Just leave me bleeding in a heap on the ground Reaching all around Frantically gathering Piling Frantic Panic Pieces and shards, They're missing I'd like to think they've imbedded themselves in your feet when you left Maybe you still feel me every time you step That sting. Pinch. Reminder of what you had and Broke. Took, cradled, coddled, and dropped Too heavy in your arms my burden was You cry Tell me you're so sorry That you want me it's just that You can't anymore Take your tears Dampen a cloth And wipe the blood from my chest Reveal the gaping hole Gaze into it like an orb Remember what was What you took from me and what I gave What you gave to me and what I took And I'm sorry about that I can't give it back Fill this hole in my chest with that which I lack I want all of you Every part Your cracking neck and knuckles The stupid way you dress And that head of yours Filled with intellect, goodness, and laughter I want that too I just beg of you to Remember Who I am and who you are I'll wait for now Until you do Hold my jaw in your hands Realize what's between your Palms A second chance Don't let me go this time I'll hold you up Carry you Carry me and Hold me up Just a moment and you ease me to the ground In a pile of my blood and reasons Curled into a ball Fists in the splinters Head to the floor I feel the vibrations of your leaving feet ****** footprints out the door
0
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 11:57 PM UTC
In a Pile of My Blood and Reasons
Look at me and I'll look at you Give to me what you used to Do to me what you used to do Kiss me Reminisce with me Extend your hand Pull my fingers into yours Leading me through those double doors Mess up your bed My heart My head Piece together your reasons in a picture you like Shatter my picture on the floor Step tip-toe around the pieces Don't cut your feet on your way out the door Just leave me bleeding in a heap on the ground Reaching all around Frantically gathering Piling Frantic Panic Pieces and shards, They're missing I'd like to think they've imbedded themselves in your feet when you left Maybe you still feel me every time you step That sting. Pinch. Reminder of what you had and Broke. Took, cradled, coddled, and dropped Too heavy in your arms my burden was You cry Tell me you're so sorry That you want me it's just that You can't anymore Take your tears Dampen a cloth And wipe the blood from my chest Reveal the gaping hole Gaze into it like an orb Remember what was What you took from me and what I gave What you gave to me and what I took And I'm sorry about that I can't give it back Fill this hole in my chest with that which I lack I want all of you Every part Your cracking neck and knuckles The stupid way you dress And that head of yours Filled with intellect, goodness, and laughter I want that too I just beg of you to Remember Who I am and who you are I'll wait for now Until you do Hold my jaw in your hands Realize what's between your Palms A second chance Don't let me go this time I'll hold you up Carry you Carry me and Hold me up Just a moment and you ease me to the ground In a pile of my blood and reasons Curled into a ball Fists in the splinters Head to the floor I feel the vibrations of your leaving feet ****** footprints out the door
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73
You dream of love And fantasy I cannot any longer Because of reality My face is shadowed By a memory While yours glows From your insanity The insanity of passion And the sexuality Imbedded in a promise Of fidelity And a lifetime Of matrimony Yes I am past that But I speak honestly About life As a casualty Of love And adultery But I need to believe In love for me only But if you cannot Then let me be lonely
0
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 2:14 PM UTC
Your Dreams My Reality
it's a mistake a mistake I'll always pay slowly deeply surely it'll sink into me and it'll stop then it's all over they will forget about it but i won't imbedded in me forever it's now part of me it can't be undone leave but it sinks into you too. (s.a)
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Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 8:46 AM UTC
Mistake
Presumptuous, perhaps arrogant, My perception of reality. I invoke, with humility, The Great Spirit and Receive an answer. Heavenly manifestations In the form of trees, Birds and dreams. My reality. But, what about me? I am important. I am destined. I am. I Regulate and manipulate My world. Channeled energies, memories Are brick and mortar For the building of myself. I build and build, Adding rooms, Windows, staircases. My domain. My center draws farther From the edge. Understanding expands. I know more and more. I sleep. I dream of angels, Of nature in bliss, Of blue skies imbedded With soft clouds, Of worlds-- Many, many, worlds-- And, I dream of myself. I wake up. I wake. I Am aware, facing A being not of my choosing, Beyond myself. Shrill whistles, Bright, flashing bulbs, Agitated bees, Forgotten memories, Woven into the Space that unfolds-- And more. No longer under my control, The earth spins on Its axis. A world apart from me. Presumptuous, perhaps arrogant, My perception of reality.
0
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 5:36 PM UTC
Arrogant Invocation
When I was young, fairy tails filled my head. And I could be a lost boy, Fighting captain hook. I was never the princess. When I was young, Playing was all I did, but I climbed up trees, and splashed in streams, never touching Barbie dolls. I was a boy back then. It wasn’t till I grew, that I became a lost boy. Was it when the boys stop playing with me? Was that when I broke inside? Lost in a world, In a world not made for lost boys. So I let them put makeup on me. I let them buy me dresses. I pretend to fancy other boys. Lost my true self, But hints of him were there. He was smart and He was brave, He was imbedded within her. But as he grew, She saw him, She heard him calling her. Save me, find me. We are a lost boy. I am a lost boy, but its not pirates I’m fighting. I’m fighting to be just a boy. One who is a boy, No matter what they say. I am a lost boy. One who is reclaiming what they took. Reclaiming my body. I must relearn to be a boy. Just a boy. This lost boy cut his hair, hides his ******* He stands tall and proud. Because he knows, He is a boy. I am a boy. It doesn’t matter what you say. I know what I am. So I will return from Neverland, And wave goodbye to my lost boy
0
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 7:16 AM UTC
Lost Boy
Everything that once was so simple, now all seems so lost to me. Lost to the world that fought me. I feel my words blurring together with a broken jaw type of numbness. It feels like my thoughts were beaten from my lips from the inside out. I can still feel the burns of thoughts unsaid. I miss when times were tangible and things were nailed down. But now my life feels like water. Violent like the tides, dragging me out into a place where I don’t know how to swim. It’s the words that I don’t know how to place that fill my lungs with every choking breath. I’m in life too deep to get out now. I’m imbedded, addicted. Fastened to this current. Like the van der waals force of my heart beating. My lips tragically crave the taste of air and my heart painfully keeps the rhythm. Step Step Step Step. “Let’s go on,” my feet say in agreement with my heart. The tears drag down and even they demand to be felt. No parts of me want to go, but they all beat down on me demanding that I supply them with more energy to live. I grow weak and hobble at my knees and wonder, “When will this addiction end? When will I get some rest?” and just like that I’m gone.   Not fighting the current, just floating. Not swimming, just floating. Not quite drowning, but still, only floating.
0
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
Floating
Polka Dot, Polka Dot, a one pony show Strange name for a child, but she loves it so Cheerful wee girl with sweet smile aglow Adores all round shapes, expects you to know Her twenty one garments sport assorted dots Basic eight pairs of footwear, orange and green spots Gaudy bows for her hair, with colored rings, lots Dot sees spheres imbedded in her eyes and thoughts Blankets and curtains, guess what, dots and lace The spotted mouse toy for the cat to chase Walls with orbs and specks on all space In the right light they reflect on your face Dot's off to school with a polka dot hat Coat, umbrella with circles, imagine that Polka dotted notebooks, pencils and backpack Rides pink spotted two wheeler, parks in bike rack Poor Polka Dot started feeling sickly ill Sent to school nurse where she refused a pill Saw the Doc, calamine lotion and advice to chill Spots! Chickenpox! Polka Dots notable thrill
0
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 3:07 PM UTC
Anything Polka Dot (Childrens)
Too often are we obsessed with nesting, making homes out of other people rather than ourselves we make ourselves cozy within the confines of the walls they had to let down in order to welcome us in we lace ourselves in between their fingers , hoping that we might also find ourselves imbedded in their heart we embrace the richness of their voice as if it were a lullaby drowning out the voice in our own heads a person was never meant to be made into a home just trying to find their own way in their uneasy bones people are fickle homes with restless minds and tired bones i am learning to make a home within myself to clean the dust off of the blinds that shield my eyes and see the world a little clearer it is time to clean out the attic of my mind to paint my skin a different color because I have always wanted my home to be as colorful as i feel i will explore the depths of my own temple and build in myself a strong foundation because the foolish man built his house on the sand, the foolish man also made a home, out of a man.
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Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 4:09 AM UTC
Home within yourself.
He lost his arm By a cooked bomb His world lit up like firecrackers He was engulfed in fire and metal shards Then his body went numb So he was stitched up And sent back home There was a new brand of limbs So he volunteered to be experimented on For a prosthetic arm As he went through new trials during the day He suffered at night He had night terrors about where he was evacuated from Seeing himself holding a ticking time bomb While bullets whisked past above   The bomb sunk into his hand like a solider in the slums And as the time ticked one His arm turned to glass and exploded The shards from his arm imbedded themselves in his skin This was his dreamed He beg to be fixed But even though they could give him a new arm They couldn't fixed what he saw when he closed his eyes
0
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
Robotics
Nana, words cannot explain the love you shared with me no one to this day saw in me what you'd see our souls were intertwined from the day of my birth - 08/10/92 to the day you died - 08/11/2010 Eighteen years and one day lovely nana, you had never left me astray Nana, I loved how we'd feed off each others curiosity to me, you passed down   your warm soul genuine mind and extreme generosity your love for me was so pure and deep, and you would tell me no other compared and that is a secret I will surely keep I hope you are now watching me, nana as I hurt knowing your love is part of the past But just so you do know, nana, the love you shared with me is imbedded in my soul and bones and I know it will forever last.
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Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 9:29 PM UTC
nana was my best friend
ponder with me as I throw these diaries filled with tales of ******* and burnt down cities towards the direction of every ear that had but a moment to listen to my plea of how other lands hold the children of my sanity of how in other lands I see decadent beauty how I feel the gnawing tearing in me awfully supernatural were the nights I imbedded in sultry cringed smiles and listened to the forgein birdies inhaled the fumes of gasoline and drowned in the glorifying sunny wet my lips in salty water and enjoyed the stinging in my eyes graced the cannabis valleys and the meadows of sustenance and endless possibility the waterfalls of magnificent hidden deep in the earth behind the roses of my ancestors speak to me my land call on to me louder hinder me away from this place and manifest within in me your womanly power seek me oh mother land and cast me away from shattered lives bring me back to you and beg me todestroy this demise I am toughly and sickly at the same time shower me with your graciousness and devoutly banish my crime I will wait for the thunder calling and make excuses for this ****** place in the meantime
0
Oct 30, 2010
Oct 30, 2010 at 12:44 PM UTC
Europe
****** bone feathers and yellow beak imbedded in brain exposed an aviary corpse when the burial dust settled the last Dodo fell with eighty eight avocado trees cut down that day and they fell like tipped cows slow slow fast thud dirt sprayed like winter breath but before trees tumbled and avocados rolled downhill north sawteeth scratched bark and cut at one hundred fifty degree angles and wedges pried tree trunks while the last Dodo slept in the last inhabited Dodo nest like the last of a long genealogy abhorring what was left of a final family a weak decrepit Jones or Smith tumbles down stairs of a two story home in Maine.
0
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:27 PM UTC
The Last Dodo
I know your smell Like warm bread, like sweet, hot breath It follows as I leave It clings lazily to my clothing and it's imbedded in my hair I let the water fall on me and so you swim down the drain I can never get clean from you, because you can never make me feel ***** Only alive There's throbbing and aching, in the place where you've been I smile and remember, as I close my eyes You know all my sweet spots You have never taken from me You only give, and give, and give and you're with me when I go I breathe in and say, this is what love is for
0
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 3:39 PM UTC
He Smells Like Bread Baking
A created moral aspect of human awareness imbedded deep within the hearts and minds of mankind. Who's sympathetic to the pain and suffering of others, aspirating the need to reach forward with compassion. Feeling the sorrows of the poverty stricken and the ill afflicted soul as one struggle to extend his hands in alms while his strength quickly diminishes. Even the impiety of the ungodly, feels the remorse of the neglected, has they take sight of a weak child who struggle to place a grain of rice into her savoring mouth. While the tears of one who's compassionate, are channel through his ducts, forming a matrix of a salty saline solution that falls like the morning dew from a leaf. The life around her fragile body falls dramatically as she watches her under nourish flesh wrap around her tiny bones while holding on to a seemless life that holds no promise. A vulture wait patiently with anticipation and eagerness for carrion, as her emaciated body collapse in preparation to sleep soundly in the afterlife. By no means shall you attain righteousness unless you give of that which you love and whatever you give, of a truth, God is all knowing.
0
May 1, 2012
May 1, 2012 at 3:07 AM UTC
Compassion
They call it being the big spoon The Big Dipper of the bodies And you insisted on that being your job. But it was the middle of the night And you turned over Letting me press my body against your back. Fitting myself into all your open spaces Nothing breathed between us You reached out your arm Pulling mine up and over Hugging my hand to your bare chest. And I Listened, My ear to your back My hand to your heart We beat in unison And I I couldn't tell who's heart was who's. Tracing the freckles on your back. Using the tips of my fingers And my lips To connect the constellations Your skin glowed as if touched by stars They are imbedded in your skin. How were we supposed to know That beneath the surface of your porcelain That you were burning alive. For the stars weren't those you wish upon But those that scorch you from the inside out. The ones that set you on fire How were we to know that the constellations imbedded in your back Were not constellations at all, But veins filled with poison. A cancer feeding on you Destroying what you are Burning stars, Poisonous, deathly stars, That big spoon Pouring hot acid through your bones Extinguishing the light that once enveloped you. You lay here And your eyelashes They start to fall to your cheeks You cry and I say Beautiful. Glowing from the inside out, I traced the Big Dipper into your back How was I to know you were burning. Make a wish, baby It's not over until you stop fighting.
0
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 12:33 AM UTC
The Big Spoon
me to cigarette by emily morgan cool quiet entrance now his. burrowed invaded imbedded little stones chipped wood plastic fuzz glass burnt laid down in a bed of debris sogging sitting tobacco back from where he came cigarette to me by emily morgan get your iphone out of my face instagram ignorance snapchat social justice tweet tribal tattoos facebook fascism/and-any-other-ism-you-know tumblr sexuality issues sweaty pierced skin brow burrowed with thoughts get your iphone out of my face
0
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 1:40 AM UTC
this is for you.
I have travelled, many a weary step, so long, and for so long with baited breath, ANXIOUS ready to be relieved of the responsibilities of life craving freedom from calamity and strife frantic and frenzied as though at some point i might find the answer to an oft ignored question i look up at the stars, as they look down at me and bask in the glory of the past and present's symmetry because there are so many of us... all bound to humanity now passed through the flame of mortality the "others" the ones who have asked themselves why they're here the intellectuals warriors who have no need for fear when they look into the veil of death and sense the first vibrations on the pulse of life when i used to dip my pen into the ink, metaphorically, because my computer helps me to think i used to doubt engaging in the process of creation it used to enrage my self serving denomination the sensation of never quite being able to express yourself as fluidly as option b or the devilry that comes from hiding yourself within the layers of flesh referred to as anatomy i use to cower by act three, run from the stage before the audience saw through me, never receiving my final bow but now i realize, that at the core of my existence imbedded in my instincts is the ability of my creator.... and I'm a fan so now when i dip my pen to the paper I'm a masked crusader cool, liek darth vader and i aint never going back to that tired dusty beaten track refered to, in passing, as memory lane
0
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 2:03 PM UTC
Memory Lane
I have travelled, many a weary step, so long, and for so long with baited breath, ANXIOUS ready to be relieved of the responsibilities of life craving freedom from calamity and strife frantic and frenzied as though at some point i might find the answer to an oft ignored question i look up at the stars, as they look down at me and bask in the glory of the past and present's symmetry because there are so many of us... all bound to humanity now passed through the flame of mortality the "others" the ones who have asked themselves why they're here the intellectuals warriors who have no need for fear when they look into the veil of death and sense the first vibrations on the pulse of life when i used to dip my pen into the ink, metaphorically, because my computer helps me to think i used to doubt engaging in the process of creation it used to enrage my self serving denomination the sensation of never quite being able to express yourself as fluidly as option b or the devilry that comes from hiding yourself within the layers of flesh referred to as anatomy i use to cower by act three, run from the stage before the audience saw through me, never receiving my final bow but now i realize, that at the core of my existence imbedded in my instincts is the ability of my creator.... and I'm a fan so now when i dip my pen to the paper I'm a masked crusader cool, liek darth vader and i aint never going back to that tired dusty beaten track refered to, in passing, as memory lane
Continue reading...
38
Fragrance imbedded in my mind Fragrance of a very special kind Like parfume of the cherry blossoms Rising up to heaven. Walking through the streets memories of you and me connected with this fragrance Bringing everything back to life Pleasure, pain and delight. All feelings like imbedded fragrance Stay forever in the mind. How I loved your fragrance. Shell✨🐚
0
Feb 17, 2021
Feb 17, 2021 at 7:49 PM UTC
Fragrance
My fingers maddenly stroke across the letter-keys, reproducing my fiery thoughts about you, how I feel & the acts I want to do. To kiss your lips for an eternity, and to trace your beautiful form forever drives me to the brink of raw, pure, primordial creativity. It's hard, like granite, these images imbedded deep, deep, deep inside my mind. You intertwined, wrapped around my genetic impulses, a ball of ions, slapping me into submission & I release, I release, I release in spasms, these multiple emissions. Beautiful tokens of my love for you, unspoken & electrical. Do you ever think about me... electronically?
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May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 8:55 AM UTC
These Electrical Impulses I Release For You
I sang to the sad man only to hear my own echo Reflections pitched in a confused tone, dancing with silent partners in an empty ballroom. Circles of sound filled the chamberhall, nothing heard but the feather that hit the floor It was me, talking to myself, my whispers imbedded inside my empty head. I heard the final pin drop. A lost echo no more.
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Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
Lost Echo
I heard my mojo calling in the sound of a million crickets, singing their song in splendid harmony. Under the smiling moon, I saw shadows amongst the conifers, in a place we once called home. And now all I have is your handmade dreamcatcher, a bandana with your fragrance imbedded in the paisley & memories of you on me.
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Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
You Are Imbedded in The Paisley
the passage through time is quite uneasy imbedded in concrete; consciousness dreamy faces skewing, anemic monsters intricate patterns, enhances, obscures repetition, repetition, repetition, repetition, incomprehension, incomprehension i can't continue, can't vacate i'm only human, my souls to take i discovered what it means to be when you can truly see the epiphany of heavenly monstrosity visions of a black hole theory i've seen all of time in one moment the future, the past, times of atonement lucid and frightful enlightening and grateful heartbeat steadies i think i'm ready to explore the world from a different standpoint and fully know this is not an endpoint it's forever changing and we're made for adapting our primal nature's to live i will never be held captive
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May 10, 2010
May 10, 2010 at 8:33 AM UTC
Enigmatic Visions
The blue-green ocean spreads out like a fan before us our dry, sand imbedded feet approach we are timid birds - uncaged fearful of the gait of our shadow but sand is forgiving and we step inch by inch towards the water we are so close that I can taste the salt brown seaweed sticking to my naked soles what did we come here for? I wanted to see the sun reflected on a liquid mirror I wanted to forage and find treasure but we are stolen by the waves carried out across the shore we are made of yesterday's passion our bare skin wrinkling with age we have found nothing but ourselves hopeless drifters, now unclothed, unhinged and tethered to the tide
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Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 4:10 PM UTC
Marco Polo
Whatever shall happen, shall happen Whatever will be, will be In the grand tapestry of the universe Everything that has been done Is being done And will be done Comes with certain intentions With these intentions, we shall either rise or fall For every cause has its consequences And every effect is with reason The only offer we are given The only thing that can be done Is a choice Is our choice To alter the fabric of reality To make a difference Whether good or bad But all must be done in caution All must be done with a bit of uncertainty For the slightest decision For The verdict being made Can change everything Can alter all things minimal or grand It is a jump A chance To fly or to fall But it must be done with no fear No holding back Once the choice is made There is no turning back Once the pattern has been made Into that giant, beautiful, complex drapery It is forever imprinted As is his faith in you As is his trust For that choice shall never be forgotten It will forever be etched into time Forever imbedded within his mind So what choice will you make?
0
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 12:18 AM UTC
Choices
It's back. The thick black tendrils have woven their way through fresh mutilated skin. They've gripped bone and rooted themselves into a skeletal disaster. A permanent venoumas suit imbedded beneath the surface.
0
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC
Goodbye Iridescence