"impacting" poems
There is no moral code
When time is an icy road
Where you cannot stop
Or you'll be stuck in the cold ground
When the temperature drops
Snow collects in my frosty frown
And starts to linger
On my frostbite fingers
While I keep sliding
On the line we're riding
I see icy roads
Leading to icy modes
Of acting
Impacting
The way we treat each other
The same way we beat each other
To the finish line
Of our frigid time
Time isn't nice
When it's ice
But it's all we know
Time continually goes
The challenges grow
Buried in snow
Trying to go uphill is a nasty nope
Sliding downhill is a slippery slope
If you momentarily lose your control
You're pulled over by the cops on patrol
Everything is covered in snow
Even the cars being towed
Their owners gave away their agency
And are at the tow truck driver's mercy
They rely on him to get them to safety
So they cunningly wear his jersey
There are things we want
Acquired by tease and taunt
We drive on top of bodies
To gain traction on the street
We do what is naughty
To have enough to eat
I careen through time
Without seeing a dime
Everything looks so plain
In this frozen rain
When the ordinary life
Is within my sight
I look for something more
Only to see a frozen door
There is ice on the road
There is ice in my heart
I can't handle the load
In the back of my cart
Until I decide
To abide
By the slide
And glide
On the edge of control and freedom
There are other cars and I'll lead them
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 2:03 AM UTC
Thin opaque pages.
Filled with elegant words, expressing,
memorializing.
Someone's thoughts and feelings,
transformed into a gripping story, a melancholy poem
or a melodic song.
Something seen or heard,
impacting a sensitive mind.
Vulnerable and brave,
someone opens their mind and reveals inner expression.
Thank you for sharing.
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 1:16 AM UTC
I went to church but I couldn’t really believe in God.
The trouble was my mind was closed to the possibility.
I could not accept that there was something more to our existence.
Something impacting our lives that we can’t see or touch?
Most of all, I wanted to make my own choices
And not think they were wrong.
I killed God within me, all by myself.
Thomas, the Apostle, did not believe others.
They told him, “We have seen the Lord”!
But Thomas couldn’t accept truth. He said,
“Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hand
And put my finger into the nailmarks and
Put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” John 20:25
God showed up and gave him the chance.
I always wanted proof like Thomas received.
Didn’t really want to put my hands into terrible wounds…
That sounded a bit disgusting.
I had no understanding that my wounds; were His wounds.
As I lived with deceit and rejection and dishonesty
I WAS placing my hand into His nailmarks.
When we least expected it, God will show up.
“Weeping comes for the night; but at dawn there will be rejoicing.” Psalm 30:6
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 9:08 AM UTC
ever since my childhood broke and the safety net disintegrated
I've been running and holding it high above, arms aching
in a futile attempt to stop things falling through
woven seams. Sometimes it works and I stare up,
neck burning, to the things I cannot touch.
I do not look down to the debris scattered around me,
to the failures of my braced shoulders, slipping through like water;
impacting like stones.
once I caught a fisherman; he threaded silver secrets
through twine using smiles and sympathy and I lowered my arms, to keep him alongside. There were some places he couldn't reach but
that was ok, because we ran for an eternity ensnared in each second.
it was a particularly beautiful day when I noticed him slowing,
staring out to sea, steps faltering and new smiles forming that
were not faced to me. He left me and dived headfirst, forgetting that
fisherman cannot swim. He drowned as I ran on, arms outstretched
above me as the net danced in the wind and everything fell through.
I have never stopped, never ceased these thundering steps;
my eyes are still turned to the sky, the holes in my net cast
beautiful shadows and through them I see the stars and wait impatient
for the night when they too fall.
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 10:52 AM UTC
*I fall in love with blonde hair and glasses,
Awkward stances and quick glances;
He is temporary and thus impacting,
His voice is all that is lasting.
And though my chances are impeded,
Distance seems all so fleeting;
Such as is in the one-time summer dare
Of two strangers’ love affair.*
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
[sweet pungent synthesis]
always with dank hysterical women demonstrating the distilled liquid elixir of their many years in isolation.
they are the nitrogen-rich followers of an ultraviolet shrine, such is
a photosynthetic life-form, reacting/enacting/enhancing.
they reach for holes in the moon &
on four-legged fumes carbonize seeds into sons and daughters. birth/
life.
all flowers ache forth to display color and/or
their varietals of hairy oil content.
to dip psychotropics, thus the worship of brain frequency and light.
fresh progress,
the sugar crystal compounds impacting, intact, and swollen.
trichomes, like huddled little masses of grandbabies bowed upon the ridge.
she drips
in dance and derives her form from properties plucked by time,
by moms, and pops.
to discover is to find purity in a moment.
pure travel/ pure
death.
this growing force,
this apparition of sound within me. organics.
organisms bound by great beauty and failure.
sense not the vivid panic, or the shock of last black, but hold true
to an inner joyous/outer motionous, tessellation that is, this
fluttering of us.
us suit of hearts.
suit of leaves.
the fusion of two bodies far beyond substantial pressure.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 7:35 AM UTC
If not to tempt the temperaments of lesser men, I shall bludgeon the object of our obsessions again, just to watch the reddened britches go un-itched, as my grinning is met with dissatisfaction, impacting the over expressed whining of gentle wimps, flailing, and stomping as disgruntled chimps, flinging feces from the cages again.
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 2:15 PM UTC
The days pass and
The dated squares
Accept their crosses and
It is not a relief to me
To finish another day
To check it off, as if
I were somehow
Impacting their passing—
Killing them with pink highlighter—
I am terrified of them
And I’m running away
From the wasted, twice-slashed
Past
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 5:39 PM UTC
Would you remember me?
If I placed my gaze here, if I looked at you like this...
If I stole your attention...and your kiss,
If I tugged at your heart with every willing bone...
If I kept muttering your name deep in sleep.
Would you remember me,
If I convinced you the sky was red
And turned around to make it blue again?
Would you remember me,
If I whispered my timeless wisdom to you,
My useless, ageless thoughts-
To a resolute mind, and the core of true
Intelligence?
Would you remember me,
If I felt you.
If I touched you in ways none other could
If I trapped you in my arms
Clouded your mind with lust?
If I reached to what's deep inside of you
And felt that essence with my bare hands?
Would you even recall my name?
No.
You won't.
Would you remember me,
If I put all of my life's energy
Into that moment I could see you smile;
If I fought, and bled for the days
That I'd wake up by your side,
Daily?
Would you remember me,
If I loved you, truly,
And showed you that such a love is real?
No.
You won't.
So let me drift and finally be a man of my word,
Let me wander past all of what could make me absurd.
I'll remember you...
And you won't know me...
But every dent of where my fists have gone
Will remind you of all that's wrong.
Jun 19, 2010
Jun 19, 2010 at 10:10 PM UTC
Pencil scratching words out
Silence
The sound of paper and lead connecting
Rustling
Frustration, not meaning what you write
Eraser comes out
The crumbler of words
Rubs across the unwanted
And now unsaid
Words that don’t let you speak your mind
Wipe the crumbled words away
Let them fly off the table
Land on the ground
Begin an adventure
That only crumbled words can
Rolling out into
Toiaywahds
Shifting
Changing
Fitting
Into what it means
What do I say
The crumbled words representing
Things you would never dare admit
imssoiuy
liveoouy
Unscrambling
Rearranging
Letting themselves free
I miss you
I love you
Brushing those haunting
Impacting, changing words away
Keeping yourself
Alone
Safe
lonely
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC
Something about him never stops.
Embodying a constant pursuit of life goals,
Impacting lives while truly living his,
Being the beacon that sends the light out.
He stands at least a head taller than everyone around him.
Not because of his physical height, simply because he
Carries himself with such an air of confidence and humility
That we all like him, desire to be like him, need to be him.
Yet what The Radical does not show is what tears him down on the inside.
He is exhausted. He is worn. He is anxious of what the masses think of him
When he stands (a head taller) and is expected to lead.
Nothing outwardly bothers him, yet inwardly everything hurts him.
The Radical changes the world around him while the world changes him.
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 10:44 AM UTC
In the black of night,
one winter long ago,
the bones spoke to me
from their perch upon
a tomb.
Creaking in the cold,
and shining brightly by
the light of the moon.
“Come and speak,”
they called, but the voice
was only an echo.
I stepped forward
in the crackling snow, and
the bones leaned forth.
“It’s grown cold, and
we are lonely,” they said.
“Who are you?”
“We are the Dead,”
they replied.
Silence stretched out
across the graveyard
and snow began to wander lazily
from the heavens.
It gathered on the bones,
who did not move.
They peered down to me,
empty sockets where eyes once sat,
then dried to dust.
“What need do the dead have of visitors?”
I asked.
The skull cocked to one side,
and the gathered snow slid
from its gleaming dome.
“The Dead need and want
all those things which have
long lost meaning to the Living.
We have as much right to company,
and twice the need.
The cold earth is also
dark, and silent.
It is there the Dead go mad.”
The snow tumbled down,
another layer upon another,
and neither of us stirred.
I watched a trickle of blood
flow from a socket of the skull,
sliding down to color its teeth
a dark crimson.
A single drop fell
from its mouth,
impacting upon the snow
at the foot of the tomb.
The dark red stain
spread across the snow
of the yard,
turning it to
a tundra of blood.
The gravestones stood high
above the bloodied freeze,
and high above them all
stood the tomb.
Sitting there,
the gleaming, bleeding,
grinning bones.
“It is there the Dead go mad,”
they repeated.
The insane screams of a thousand dead souls
pierced the silence of the night,
and the tombstones crumbled
into the snow.
The ground swelled
as if turned to a vengeful red sea,
and spat the bodies below to the surface.
A mass of bone, flesh
and dirt replaced the
snow around me.
The bones above gazed out
upon the carnage,
jaw agape.
Screaming.
Louder than ever,
unmuffled by the earth,
the bodies of the dead shrieked to the heavens.
The gray winter clouds above
turned to soot
and fell from the sky.
The full moon burst into view,
casting its cold glare
upon the horror.
The Dead writhed and shrieked,
bony fingers and heels digging
at the ground around them.
Rotting flesh fell from muscle,
muscle fell from bone.
From atop the tomb,
the bones turned back
to me, screaming
“IT IS THERE THE DEAD GO MAAAAAAD!”
The skeleton burst into dust
and rained down upon me.
And the screaming ceased.
Slowly, slowly,
the writhing bodies
grew still.
Their eyes,
cold and bright,
stared wide at the sky above.
My ears rang with their screams.
I shuddered.
The bodies recessed
back into the earth.
Soot rose back to the heavens
to cover their watchful eye.
Looking back to the tomb,
I saw the bones returned
to their perch.
But now they gazed upon me
with my own eyes.
“It is here,” they said.
And I could not look away.
“The Dead go mad,”
I answered.
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 5:39 PM UTC
Wild caribou roam the plains
of the smooth golf greens.
A pest to all those who don the plus fours.
Emerging from the rough they charge
at will, impacting with the power of a comet.
They must be killed on sight.
An 8 iron behind the head usually does the trick,
and 19th hole is adorned with the coat stand silhouettes
of dispatched caribou heads.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 5:16 AM UTC
It's not a long walk from the chapel to the bench
It's a peaceful walk along the gravel trail
You can look out in the distance, past the cliffs out to the sea
And on most days you can even see a sail
There's a gentle scent of heather on the trail as you walk by
It's so calming as it works upon my mind
I've seen so many places as I've travelled on this earth
And this one is one time has left behind.
There's a small tree standing near the cliff just a little further up
It has blossoms that blow down onto the shore
You can sit by it and wonder as the blossoms filter down
How much beauty can one's senses yet endure?
The grass is green as ever, like it's painted and not grown
But it smells just as fresh as fresh can be
With all these scents and visions here impacting on my mind
And this view that's just a beach and the blue sea
There's no one else around here as I sit silent on the bench
And that's nice for it gives us time to talk
There's birds out in the distance making noises in the air
And I can listen as they fly about and squak
The flowers by the path edge almost hide among the ferns
You can see them but you're not so sure they're there
The grounds are so pure perfect, that you can't believe their real
They are something, in a place so truly rare,
You can hear music in the background from the Church back up the path
At a volume that just says "I am here"
It's an extra added bonus to this sweet pastoral scene
Like Brigadoon, I feel soon will disappear
The fog is rolling in now and the tide is coming too
There's clouds there and I haven't got much time
But, I'll stay a little longer sitting quiet on the bench
To not share this with another truly is a crime,
I think I'll take my leave now and start on out for home
It's really nice here and I know you'd like the view
I'll be back again tomorrow to chat some more again
All that's missing is sharing this with you
So, I'll leave these garden flowers on your stone here by the bench
They're for you dear, now I hear the waves crash on the shore,
We will speak again tomorrow when I come by once again
For dear I miss you and I will forever more.
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 11:27 AM UTC
Reality is
whether
we know it or not
Every time we post
something
We’re impacting
Someone’s life
From the words
that we say
to the things that
we write
This is something
I think often
My impact
How about you?
let’s leave selfishness at the door
and take a stand to change
our surroundings for the better
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 5:21 PM UTC
If Wishes Had Wings, I’d be idolized by millions
saving & impacting the lives of many scarred children
If Wishes Had Wings, the world would be free from pain
no more dark clouds surrounded by depressing rains
If Wishes Had Wings, the silent tears would be clearly heard
life would be less horrific so we’d worry less of the overwhelming storms
If Wishes Had Wings, the act of happiness shall be of reappearance
provide my mental slaves with the proper deliverance
If Wishes Had Wings, Love wouldn’t be so scary to obtain
heart break would be a stranger while the kingdom we have will still reign
If Wishes Had Wings, there would no longer be Hell on Earth
take away all the evil from life to grant us the proper rebirth
If Wishes Had Wings, heartbreaks around the world would sing
the greatest melody performed by all the broken Kings & Queens
If Wishes Had Wings, God forgive us for the lives we’ve been sinning in
trapped in a cold evil world that we’re forced but isolatedly living in
never intending to be heartless but our hearts have turned cold
frustratedly feeling the shattering of love to which a false interest beholds
possessing a tale that’s very relating but only a few understand
how being lonely & disappointed can take a toll on more than man
☆ Poetic Venxm ☆
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 11:08 PM UTC
Began at dusk and led us here swiftly.
Along with the wind springtime
blew in new found forms of folly.
Invested in life vests to
rid the sleeves for my heart
To beat upon.
The moon show through
pale blue.
The air reeked of butterfly
winged exhaust pipes.
The ins and outs of
Seasonal rotation.
Life and death as one.
To illustrate landscape stretches
created from scraps of string.
Silence
Says a million different
Things.
Watching a multitude of human
beings from a distance.
I’m distant
from any sort of recognition.
What’s an honor when
the honor is expected
spread evenly among a crowd
of strangers expecting
Futures.
Silence
Says I’m as unique as
classes of identical robe wearing
shower goers;
As unique as uniforms.
Birds know no boundaries
when it comes to bravery
trying to communicate
something to me,
as part of me worries
for their safety.
Freedom is beyond me.
Intuitively,
Silence
Speaks with me.
She's telling me
silent was the bravery feathers
upon impacting the tires packed with pressure
ready to burst at the seems
silent was the bravery upon bursting at her seems
in the rear view mirror I see
wing feather constellations
painting a reality portrait for
me.
Silence
tells me selfishness
is the root of everything.
Silence
tells me mystery
is the beneath the X marks
of all the treasure maps I
painted repeatedly.
Silence
soothes
me.
May 23, 2012
May 23, 2012 at 10:47 PM UTC
The end of his strength it comes in a rush
a wildfire burning destroying in lust
the joys of a life are forgotten in turn
passions and trusts that were once so bright
paled to nothingness, haunted remains
they cry in quiet voices, the roaring above
drowning the sorrowful sounds of lost lives
what he was has long since passes through silent halls
of what may have become only ashes that stir
no dormant embers lay hidden to ignited in pain
a fiery expanse, though grey as the burnt sky
an emptiness within and without reflecting each side
the end of his strength it came in a rush
The end of his will it came on but slow
endless dripping of acid on stone
shallow grooves to begin, easy ignored
forgotten within the raging tempest surrounding
then stone is gone and he along with it
the pain long left flows in furious tides
aches from the past, for without his armour
the wounds that will not heal are open to the void
not seen or felt when present, pressures innumerable
with dawning realization, for all things do hurt
the treatment of others as knives in the mind
hurting themselves to pain those loved to hurt once more
cycles of pain of hate of suffering
impacting upon an open soul
and the end of his will did come but slow
The end of his patience came dressed as fury
a relentless glacial desire plunging in anger
sweeping all before leaving naught, torn earth
disguised at rage at this world, this life
screaming in powerlessness for he cannot protect
or any for it is themselves, screaming and crying
in a denial that cannot be expressed in fears
or the red steam of blood shed under cause
only shown in a heart of ice that has suffered enough
scars of loves lost, trusts betrayed marking emotional flesh
twisting the shape of what was once straight, true
a mockery of man seen in sneering lips that did smile
in heavy hands that once caressed ever gentle
memories of life buried in uncompromising overwhelming agony of ice
the end of his patience burning as fury
Darkness creeps in as it ever does on light
until there is naught left but shadows and mists
as rest comes for him with final gasp he breathes
At last, at last.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 8:35 AM UTC
Lost within plain sight.
Heart rhythms of sinus gone to tach
my heart beats for what?
So lucid and everquestioning
just taking space in my mind
questions unanswered
drifting in the universe
lost within plain sight
Minds racing.
Here is the future,
so out of reach.
Culturally deceived truth; it's all relative.
Society smells of it, lies and ludeness impacting.
Exposed indefinite maliciousness
life and the revelation therein,
being ever lost; within plain sight
Jan 24, 2011
Jan 24, 2011 at 2:32 AM UTC
as the kind of person i am, i don't regret any of my decisions
because I've made my decisions and there is nothing i can do now
they've occurred and i can feel bad about making them
but i never regret them, because there's no use wishing i could change them
this aspect of me becomes prominent after a loss
recently it feels as though there's been a lot of loss
and it's terrible, i hate the feeling of it
but loss shows me a lot of things
loss has shown me that sometimes it's not the losing that hurts
it's the lost effort and feelings and time
it's the lost emotion that hurts me most
people walk in and out of our lives and we have no control over that fact
but they take moments and little pieces of us along with them
but we take a little bit of them as well
and sometimes what we take hurts
loss teaches us how valuable our moments are
that every little moment is worth something
regardless of how small we think it is
because one day we or somebody else might not see it as miniscule
but as a miraculous moment that is impacting on their life
loss doesn't erase these impacts and hurts on us though
it might even enunciate them
and loss doesn't make the sadness of losing that person go away
time does
and even though time takes away that pain we have those moments
you should never regret those moments
whether they be good moments or bad moments
you took them with you for a reason
i think me as the person i am
certain moments shine light on certain aspects of myself
and loss shines light on my inability to regret moments
although some may see that as a bed things and call me emotionless
i view it as a tool to view moments a little differently than others
to view them as valuable and worth remembering
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 11:46 PM UTC
After all that time hope chasin'
I stumbled on a man named Mason
A man at heart but not in years
Love in my mind and in my tears
When we can't be together
For what seems like forever
Temptation when he tells me it's legal
But everybody would think I was evil
And laws become smudged
When everyone's a judge
Through the mud I trudge
On this path to nowhere and ask why
I can see happiness form in their eyes
When my walls begin to crumble
Because my Mason has disappeared
I live in the world
That makes me ashamed to feel love
And love to feel ashamed
There are asteroids floating in space
As I float dangerously in place
Before one hits my planet
I'd like to find someone that understands me completely
But the dust particles float around my cell
Sticking to my skin
Like tiny meteors constantly impacting me
I sink into the craters created
When my heart was cremated
The others were elated
When my love was traded
For a world with people I could talk with
I walk in a world with no one to walk with
Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 2:34 AM UTC
I split open
right down
the center of
my lit-up blue
of throat,
gutterally lush
into deep green
tumbled brush
forest heartwave
zipping straight
between the sloping
landscapes of *******
as the heavens
take me in,
temper my
weathered blasts
of tempest
that have thrown me back
unto the wall of ether
Impacting through
the fibers of time and
spatial relativity,
the poisoned burns
along my spinal chord
crackle
with the scent of sage
and a
savory-flavored wisdom
of a more enlightened age
Yes, the time
for cleansing has come
and, as electricity
trips off my energetic crown
I can only see hazy
ribbons of
purple light
becoming
one large
sea of dreams
fully expanded
It is time
for visionquest and
I must make ready,
arms taking in the world
preparing for
silent battle
wordless in whisperings
yet ready to howl
I sit back on
my haunches
eyes on lookout
heart alight
in licks of green fire
my weapons hidden
my eyes that of a child
ever soft, pliable
ready for all to happen
and I must gather
my own children 'round
like a she-wolf
surround them with the
timeless protection
of my breath
as ancient spells
re-alight in the sparks
and a wispiness, like smoke
envelopes my being
By daybreak,
my old soul
will align
and dance with
all the new
I can
possibly
muster
or even
think
to
bear
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 6:49 PM UTC
He excited me into euphoria
His lips the nectar of ambrosia
Beatifying and leaving me exuberant
Centralizing my spirits
Focalizing my intentions to purity and growth
Bringing about equanimity true still calm invoked
I worshipped his sapphire portals
Reflections of hope and irresistible seduction
Falling gracefully to his charm
Fitting perfectly into his loving arms
Cradling my desires and nurturing my aching heart
Eternity felt within his touch
Impacting instantly a harmonious start
Staining and rippling
changing me
I longed for this being before knowing his name
I trusted once more and so much I've gained
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 1:11 AM UTC
heaven above guide wheels gone reeling
send the strength to ward from grieving
for the forces without whose sweetly singing
calls toward the crash in the trash from the mess i bring
because once more i bore in the echoing
because i grow from lonely echoes
brimstone below fill veins with fire
send what strength ignores desire
that in change i enslave them with my choir
billowing so softly but brought to screams, deceiving
because once more i bore in the echoing
i barb my wounds and heart as i descend on scene
impacting, wings bound, and bleeding
scheming
to **** the evidence
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 6:58 AM UTC