"indebted" poems
Her soul was a candle flickering in the palm of his hand
Slowly eating away at the wax until it was only the faint murmur of a flame
He ran across deserts and over mountains to try to find a safe place for this little candle
He constantly added wax, trying to rebuild it so it could feel powerful again
He cupped his hands together tightly, trying not to let the breeze slip between the cracks his fingers made
He tried his best, and so the story goes, his best happened to be just enough
The flame of the little candle grew under his protecting watch
It grew large enough to stand on its own, to fight the wind and the rain and the storms all by itself
The candle still needed him though
He provided more wax whenever it was needed, and stuck around to make sure his candle was alright
And she was.
Forever indebted to him, she stood as a beacon of hope for the hopeless, and a symbol of love for the lonely
Forevermore.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
Indebted shadows prey on a prayer
They drink up their glories and sins,
While contending for souls so rare
And endow nails upon my skin:
Clever born,
Hearty,
And silver to the bone.
Nevermore,
Sadly,
Now mutely grey in tone.
“Awake!
Arise!
Win our war in Rome!”
They break,
They lie,
And never came home.
Forget
Please never,
This threat
I sever,
Regret?
Too clever
to lie.
Faulty sins hoist a ****** banner
While goodness is only a trend,
And foes are convenient in manner
Convenience: a conclusive friend.
Too clever to lie
What a convenience am I
Am I: your conclusive friend;
Answer as to why
You raise the stakes high
When you have no soul to lend?
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 3:32 PM UTC
Harken ye temptious ear
To this scandalous tale
Of the indebted lovely Lady
Sorrowfully saying "For Sale."
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 1:40 PM UTC
For dead is where I begin, Indebted.
& that is where I’ll stay,
Despite the way I feel today
Despite my tiresome aversions
I will hang myself before the opportunity for any detour
Deter…
I will deter myself.
I will prove to myself, once again,
That I, am the master of my demise
The rue in ruin
My own failure
and then…
I’ll lay my head to rest.
For tomorrow is over.
A new beginning in which to distract away from a new
To make the same mistakes I’ve grown so familiar to…
To a broken neck, one in which reflects my irregularity
To walk with my head down…
Past the bridge of contemplation, contemplating-
suicide.
Despite refrain,
To spite restraint
To the end.
& never make it-
to the end,
My End.
I shall be received
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 9:14 PM UTC
The long hours of the night highlight our inner insecurities
Relating to the change slowly disappearing in a clanking machine
My stomache burns
I didn't suggest to pay this, indebted to the alcohol
No filter to the lewd humorous words we speak
As we cruise away from the wild eyed life, bits of lint collect on the drivers glass
The mistakes and embarrassment blinds our minds
A push of a button, watching the grey fluff slide down the wind shield
Turning into a tumble **** rolling down the loneliest highway
No commitment to the grief
The clouds smother the brown smudged mountains
A white submissive canvas, I see
My metaphoric future becomes one with the peeks
My heart weeps as they come back into view
The world once teaching me, is now background beauty
Where shall this car take me
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
"~Snuggling~"
Marsha Ambrosius smell,
Wait!! How I do I know how she smells?
Well nevermind,
So mixed with wasting our time,
Of blabbering on how beautiful you look,
When we should be snuggling under the stars,
They took,
A lot away from you and me,
Sacrifice so much for you and me,
Please leave without bad memories,
If I die would you cry,
Would you plead,
I'm just waiting for a little bliss,
Waiting for a sincere beautiful atmosphere,
Waiting for affection,
Waiting for a kiss,
I plead........
"K.O.C.A"
.... To be your rock,
When you need someone to lean on,
My heart is made of stone,
Aside from feelings that can't be shown,
But I won't say leave me alone,
Truthfully a life without you,
Is a crisis,
So please don't leave me gone,
We play childishly,
But when we make the sweetest love,
I'm indebted to your open casualties,
As tender as a prime cooked rib,
Show it out of me,
The feelings that I give,
I would die without you,
Baby I wanna live,
I'm too young to die,
You are too,
So why don't we die together,
Let the flowers bloom.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 11:12 PM UTC
Green
Refreshing
Maturing to become
Grains that will feed us
WIth the sweat of the farmer
WIth the tears of the widows and daughters
WIth the sorrow of the indebted ..
WIth the curse of the deprived and downtrodden..
We don't see the stories behind the scene
We relish the fancy recipes of the Master Chefs
Of fragrant rice, golden rice and the slim and slender grains
We forget the dark, thin, slender bodies who make it for us...
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 9:19 AM UTC
*Time to hand the deck back
Before Alice in Wonderland
Becomes Malice in Blunderland
The looking glass cracks
And there's no passage back.*
Sat at Life's table
Night after Night goes aRound
And you're Unable to leave.
Coulda drawn the Ace
But got sidetracked by the Joker
With your Inability
to pass up possibility
And it Leaves you looking in the mirror
At this fool that you see
The fool that you are
As you fall so easily
For this game
Who's only aim
Is to breed
losers to please
Those who have already won
With ease
Been Established for centuries
And now you're indebted
to this Society.
It Leaves you
Staring At the innocent face
You strive to disgrace
Even though it hurts you
And The sincerity
aids in your
Despair at he
That puts Gold before Good
Though it makes sense
Alphabetically
He who wages happiness
On the back of money
Will eventually sight
Looking glass Or not
That the price is not right.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 5:11 PM UTC
..
share your thoughts,
stay humble-
stay in the bubble,
of nothingness, and
the light that makes one
blind.
i have my mind,
and then yours to fathom-
universe is so random and yet,
everything makes sense,
if you let your mind wander
far enough.
there's something in rocks,
and water. beneath all that ice
and laughter. that stops all-
all the disaster of being shipped
back to the same hollowness, walls,
and the better part of silence, science,
of not knowing-
where it all came from.
but stay inside the skin,
away from the approaching
nuclear winter and dead people,
made within the deepest darkness
of a normal mind. for it is the normal,
that is against all that is beyond
the grasp of reality.
we'll always be indebted
to our totality,
until the piper leads himself down the
rabbit hole.
but do share your thoughts,
stay humble, lost-
in your bubble of nothingness.
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 5:59 AM UTC
I'm still trying to
be supportive over
the strangest things
as if I am indebted
to you for the way
i acted, still think
it's my duty to
unconditionally
love you and
defend your
place to be
yourself but
it's not. It's
not, It's not.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 11:27 AM UTC
Genuinely feeling hope for something good, and being lead by false hope to believe a lie as truth, are two different beasts
I don't hate myself for what I felt, or thought, but instead what I was lead to think was okay to believe
I was lied to, again; my words beckoned something I thought was genuine, and deceit was all that met me, just like every time before it
I'm sick of being here, of thinking anything gets better, because it's true that the those who spend their fortune at keeping an authentic heart for others will inevitably end up alone, indebted to those who only care of themselves
I give myself away too often, but only for what I objectively observe as being meaningful, but I'm afraid that closing off my mind will bring me to the dark place again, and I never want to go back there
I have no control of what someone believes or feels, nor do I know what that may be, all the same
I just take what I am given, if it seems and feels good; if it echoes compassion and sincerity, because that's exactly what I lack most
I hate being a slave to this paradox, but my freedom may only come with absolute truth
I have no more faith for that - I still hope; potentiality rings, but I know that's one sided on my end
A wish is a wish..
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 1:19 AM UTC
Wet for my blood
Wet for my sweat
Hunger over me
Wet for the ache between my eyes
Desirous seams
Tying the noose to the phyxi ****
Does it make you ******* wet?
Grasping the lines of this broken spine
Indebted till death
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 9:28 AM UTC
***Most people live for love
But some of us live because of it***
Such unforgivable forgetfulness
Lost within potential photos
Preoccupied and overly abrasive
Harmless yet persuasively implicit
These eyes are speechless
But explicitly dying to speak
A picture so perfect for lust
A thousand words
Just isn't enough
Deeply indebted
With every glance
Too perplexed by color
How none of it belongs
Another illustrated nightmare
Where sleep is prolonged
Where the sick plans
To escape with the thought
Trapped inside the mind
So adolescent
Oh picture the heartache
Rejoicing over a carcass
Still standing
And rapturing moments
We all long to feel
This winter shiver
So sicken from cold feet
An undying hunger
For butterfly soup
***Proof
What worthy time to be alive
Clearly sold on the vision
Never too hasty to cover
This lover isn't blind
But envisioned
May we all fall victim
To the photos
We aren't viable to find*
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 10:35 PM UTC
Sanded down,
handed down
heirlooms
for boardrooms.
Directors prospecting for
antique positions,
commission based,
cyanide laced contracts,
small print that annihilates,
dilating the pupils ,restrictive
and
pencils that scribble out names in
a ledger.
Forever indebted,
a debit individual.
All residual profit
reinvested,
future proofed
heirlooms.
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
A is for Austerity
To pay back the Bank
For the Collateral
On your defaulted Debt
That exploded Exponentially
Like the financial Fiasco
Of the Grecian Governments
Indebted to Hitler's Homeland
Return to Investors
The rent on your Job
Capital is their Kingdom
The laborers are Landless
Misers enslaved to Misery
The N
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 1:35 AM UTC
He saw her drop a wallet and nobody saw it
He returned it without her seeing it and she was glad
there was no thank you, no need to feel indebted to, no need to reciprocate, no belittling of the effort to not feel grateful, no aggrandizement of the effort to reward overly to the point of removing, no self-praise----all just a quiet act of kindness
but then someone did see him and blamed him for taking it in the first place and not only was the act not appreciated but it was scorned, misinterpreted, misunderstood, confused, defamed and finally damned. When kindness is ****** could there be any greater crime? The act was kindness and nobody understood it, and everyone jumped to conclusions, and everyone found one reason to **** for another reason, and nobody took the extra time, caring, compassion, and thoroughness and patience and love it would have taken to find out the truth---so the the greatest crime prevailed---far greater than the act that was understood to be the "justifiable damnation", but isn't it always the breeding grounds for justifiable damnation when conclusions about the biggest things in life are so quickly assumed to be true when they aren't. Reverse the crime with patience, love, understanding, caring being thorough, being careful, and remember the act of returning the wallet held such integrity that your shine will show the light to everyone else sooner or later but your light will forever shine regardless so don't unjustifiably **** yourself either---love yourself---and thank you for returning the wallet
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 7:34 PM UTC
I’m indebted to the Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, 4th Edition 1996
**Ab Imo Pectore
A**b imo pectore,
Blandae mendacia linguae,
Cadit quaestio,
Desunt cetera.
E*st modus in rebus.
Faber est quisque fortunae suae,
Gigni de nihilo nihilum, in nihilum nil posse reverti.
Hic finis fandi,
Interdum stultus bene loquitur?
Jacta interdum est alea,
Labuntur et imputantur.
Magni nominis umbra,
Nec scire fas est omnia,
Omne crede diem tibi diluxisse supremun,
Pallida mors aequo pulsat pauperum tabernas regumque turres;
Quid rides, mutato nominee de te fibula narrator,
Res ipsa loquitur.
Solvitur ambulando…
Tempora mutantur, nos et matamur in illis.
Urbi et orbi,
Vestigia nulla retrorsum.*
From The Bottom Of The Heart
From the bottom of the heart, the falsehoods of a smooth tongue,
The question drops, the rest is wanting.
There is a balance in all things, every man is the creator of his own fate.
From nothing, nothing can come, into nothing, nothing can return.
Let there be an end to talking, for who can tell when a fool speaks the truth?
The die is sometimes already cast,
A moment comes and goes, and is laid to our account.
From the smallest shadow to the mightiest name,
No one can claim to know all things,
I believe that every day that dawns may be my last,
Pale death knocks impartially at both poor and rich men’s houses;
Don’t laugh, change the name and the story is yours,
It’s so obvious, it speaks for itself.
As the concept of motion is proven by walking…
So in time all things change, as we must, in time, all change.
And to all the world,
There’s no turning back.
Ab Imo Pectore / From The Bottom Of The Heart
Ab imo pectore,
From the bottom of the heart,
Blandae mendacia linguae,
The falsehoods of a smooth tongue,
Cadit quaestio,
The question drops,
Desunt cetera.
The rest is found wanting.
Est modus in rebus,
There is a balance in all things,
Faber est quisque fortunae suae.
Every man is the creator of his own fate.
Gigni de nihilo nihilum, in nihilum nil posse reverti.
From nothing, nothing can come, into nothing, nothing can return.
Hic finis fandi,
Let there be an end to talking,
Interdum stultus bene loquitur?
For who can tell when a fool speaks the truth?
Jacta interdum est alea.
The die is sometimes already cast,
Labuntur et imputantur.
A moment comes and goes, and is laid to our account.
Magni nominis umbra,
From the smallest shadow to the mightiest name,
Nec scire fas est omnia,
No one can claim to know all things,
Omne crede diem tibi diluxisse supremun,
I believe that every day that dawns may be my last,
Pallida mors aequo pulsat pauperum tabernas regumque turres;
Pale death knocks impartially at both poor man and rich men’s houses;
Quid rides, mutato nominee de te fibula narrator,
Don’t laugh, change the name and the story is yours,
Res ipsa loquitur.
It’s so obvious, that it speaks for itself.
Solvitur ambulando…
As the concept of motion is proven by walking…
Tempora mutantur, nos et matamur in illis.
So in time all things change, as we must, in time, all change.
Urbi et orbi,
And to all the world,
Vestigia nulla retrorsum.
There’s no turning back.
r10.1
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 6:41 PM UTC
A tree stands tall on soil,
A human on earth,
The ground,
forming soils upper 'crust'.
But what would thou be,
If sans was the soil first?
We origunated from the soil,
Evolve through it,
One day, we'll be this soil
The soil, on which thou may never sit.
Life still isn't a thing,
without this mere soil.
It endures so much,
Yet gives back peace.
And complains not,
Of its strife's and greifs!
The food we eat,
The air we breathe,
Will all be futile,
Sans soil beneath.
There wouldn't be trees,
Would fresh air we'd breath?
The water we drink,
Would'en really be free?
And Oh, the ground that
Endures you feet,
Would you be standing,
Without the soil beneath?
The soil forms lifes,
Aids us live,
But little we know,
Of its sincerest deeds!
It burns itself,
To prevent us from heat,
It wettens itself,
And absorbs all heat.
The birds,
The beasts,
the tinniest creatue indeed,
Are the elements indebted
to soil in brief.
Thou life is but this soil,
The soil that reings life,
we are the trees,
Who stand on it,
Who laugh, endure,
Learn, speak,
Yet keeps so much,
like those little seeds.
Thy parent are seeds,
And the roots to be
Thy friends are leaves,
That may shed in weeks,
Thy siblings the arms,
Those helping hands in deeds.
The soil of life,
Sees success, misfortune and griefs,
Yet fertile is the one,
Who masters to smile even in adversities.
The soil is major part of eternity,
And our lives an essential part,
The part, we then call as an 'evergrowing tree'
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 6:03 PM UTC
Sherlock is indebted, forever;
To Mike,
For he made it possible for Holmes,
To meet the (only) friend of his life.
Oh look at John,
How baffled he was,
For he had just met a man,
About him, who knew all.
The army doctor thing, the Afghanistan war,
And that his sibling was alcoholic,
About this Sherlock was sure.
Without a word about himself,
Just the name and address,
Holmes went away,
Leaving John, with many questions,
And their answers for him to guess.
A queer flat mate, he was, a bit rude
Sherlock, you know;
Mrs. Hudson was nicer,
But not their housekeeper!
Apparently, SH would play violin to think,
Knew it was DI Lestrade at the door,
And there was another ******
Including this one, counting to four,
Without a hint.
The crime scene was sealed,
Under supervision of Donovan,
And according to Sherlock,
There was something going on,
Between her,
And Anderson.
A woman was dead,
Wore everything in pink,
Holmes deduced her marriage state,
Just by her ring!
He slammed the door at Anderson,
For he (SH) found him irritating.
“Rache is not for revenge”, Holmes said,
“She was writing Rachel, obviously”.
Left-handed she was,
And was carrying a suitcase,
But as Lestrade said,
There was never a case.
Mr. Holmes was so excited then,
He teased others to be stupid,
Watson helped him make a point,
In order to find the criminal,
But Holmes believed,
The pink case was the cupid.
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 2:03 AM UTC
Intake warm breeze
as chest expands
Like a tequila shot
Slammed
Top shelf tequila...
A more enduring
Sobering
Variety of elixir
Oxygen and energy ringing
Integrity intact
Confidence withstands
Through chaos and madness
I AM a glorious being
We ARE shining out
into the galaxy
Can't you see?
Only by running on
Spiritual fumes of evermore
Can we truly be
All we were meant
Without a penny spent
The universe expands
Fills up every pore
of pink lung
Feeding blood as
it wraps around
My heart squeezing out
Every ounce of
Stamina and love
Exhale air of hope
So grateful to it
Swirling up
My being bowed down
in reverence
Indebted to it
the atmosphere
The same breeze
Engulfs birds in the trees,
Who drink it up,
Singing sweetly
Sure beats man-made
Intoxication any day
of the week
Don't you think?
The best highs
of this life
are beautifully
Intrinsically
Deceivingly
Free
Go forth!
Spread your wings
Spanning from
Past to future
Fly to sights unseen!
Soar the currents of today
Right up to the heavens
Dear friends!
I'll be perched
Waiting for your faces
in the branches of Serenity,
Chirping hymns of Love
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 1:25 AM UTC
I,
After
Leaving,
Have been in
The most pain,
The most strain.
It’s a good thing
I love His Name.
After leaving I feel lost.
To my life it’s a huge cost.
I find that I have been changed
That my whole life was rearranged.
After leaving my mind tries its best to cope.
It’s almost as if I’ve let go of a rope
And without it I feel so alone.
So I search for a new home.
After leaving I look for new friends.
So that a new chapter I can begin.
But in them I search for what is “wrong.”
For it’s the warmth of welcome my mind longs.
After leaving I see how I’ve been separated
From my sisters whom I am indebted.
I see how I’ve been embedded.
I see where I was headed.
After leaving I see
I was on the path to believe
That if I was to stay in the church
I must see them as the only place to search.
That I must only be with the “brothers” it seems,
That I have to wait ‘till I graduate to search for love.
You must not think you can throw out our God’s dreams
For it’s listening to Him that we find true peace from above.
Our wonderful God wants us to be in love with Him,
Not necessarily to fall in love with his bride.
Yes we should trust and listen to them,
But not if we feel Him from aside,
Whispering in our small ears
Something different,
Something clear.
He told me to leave.
He knew it would be hard.
He knew I would not go at first,
But our Lord, to me, did not bombard.
He did not give up until I was relieved.
It’s all just a balance that is off.
I feel sorry for them.
I wish that this
could come
to an
end
.
.
..
…
But
Should
I feel sorry
For them? Does
It even make sense
To have these feelings?
For without them I was lost.
Without them I was not soft.
They helped me become
Like the tree.
.
..
...
It’s
Like
Water from
A tap, dripping
On my head
Always
.
..
..
...
Only
To mess
With my mind.
It drips slowly, It isn’t kind.
For it wants me to go on my own,
Instead of keeping God on the phone.
The drops fall on my head one by one,
Little by little my mind comes undone
Perhaps it will never stop dripping,
Perhaps it will not stop ripping
Perhaps it won't stop.
.
..
..
...
When?
Will it stop?
Please stop.
Please.
…...................................................................................................
…...........................................................................................................................
…...................................................................................................
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 1:40 PM UTC
a desolate deception of hopeless self expression
a perceptive inception of artistic retention
is this a conversation?
or a list of movie quotes?
pop cultures ascension to our first world dimension
feel the tension...
feel the pulling of the mind
as we spit rhymes about hate crimes ignored for an episode of Family Guy
is this truly the vision of the revolution of rhythm
cause it seems more like derision or apathetic decision
speaking of dismantling systems when we're all caught up in them
when will we be finished?
when we get off our ***** and take molotovs to tyranny
instead of crying in beer glasses
will that amend the cracks in foundation or just be a punchline
we take breaks in the morning noon and nighttime
and we havent been fine in a long time
with cops murdering and wars being waged
we're more concerned with grocery lines and making a good wage
lets end currency cause its holding us back
and let our abilities have the first crack
spread the wealth of the knowledge of a skill or a trade
help those who are enfeebled to make a way
and do it because its the right thing to do
not because you want a soul indebted to you
property is robbery its as simple as that
so raise your black flag and lets take freedom back
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 5:28 PM UTC
Today it's 5th September,in our country as we all know,it's celebrated as Teacher's Day.And,in my life I'm so much indebted to my teachers that I can hardly repay it or even can explain in words that what they gave me.From very early childhood I've a teacher,since I've sense I come to know that lady as my Mother,my basic education is her credit obviously,even now-a-days,when I'm in abroad.In such a unfamiliar world far from family friends,I feel so blessed I'm.In our Life as long we alive,our basic or moral education is the pillar which built our mindset or our character,rather than guide us the whole way along.And,here's the point I'm really feel myself blessed,the lessons of Life,she taught me in that Childhood,I really can't deny her debt.And,next to my Mother here I'll go for the persons beyond family-friends-relatives,who're not there always with me in the war of life,in the struggle of existence,but their presence is inevitable.After my Mother the persons taught me the mantra of Life are my Teachers.Throughout my Student Life I've met many & so many teachers as all of You.But among them very few are there,and that few are the people who made me whatever I'm today,irrecoverable debt,indebted forever.........................!!!!!!!-05.09.2013
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 12:22 AM UTC