"infecting" poems
I never know what say
a memory of longing
is painful as it keeps
decaying in my chest
putting my love on paper
doesn't take it away
it amplifies the sting
trying to move on
infecting the open cavity of my being
you read my words like you understand
but I'm lost in a memory of what would have been
trying to collect shattered pieces of my own self
emptied and dancing whisked into the shadows
like the end of a dream
feverishly waking up because my feelings weren't received
give them but don't get them
like as if I sent a letter of longing
never in return
Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 9:28 PM UTC
*
Cné
I believe in love...
In a blink of an eye, a life goes by
extinguished in the end.
And all that's done returns to dust.
No omen can portend.
Yet love lives on, infecting all
and never really dies
It goes beyond the realm of man
to live in fragrant skies.
And on the spacious sea of clouds,
it waits to find a port.
And then it anchors in a soul
to caper and cavort.
Traveler
Perhaps
In the emotional beginning
When head was yet held high
Stumbling through clouds
Of bright blurry skies
Love was a foolish quest
Of paralyzing highs
And now you're telling me
Love can never die?
Cné
Translucent,
the clouds we've sailed
and golden sunsets made
Kisses that we could have had
while watching rainbows fade.
Alas, a life's too short to spend
in fathomless regret.
Perhaps the wheel will turn again
another lifetime yet.
And so, my love
the voyage goes on,
to "golden years"?
We'll see.
Until
the other side reveals
what shall become of "we".
Traveler
Indeed
A dangerous theory
I can't imagine
Love roaming free
The source of all misery
Another invisible ghost
Possessing unaware host
Surely
Love is the blood we bleed
All across time and history
Love is more than a mere key
More than a want
Love is a need...
**Cné
Traveler Tim**
*
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 10:41 AM UTC
she soaks herself in his hurt
and it d
r
i
p
s
o
u
t
of him
ever so slowly,
infecting her.
all she wanted was for him to be
drained
so he could live without pain
but now, she thinks
living is pain.
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 3:23 PM UTC
Punctured are the lungs I've used for breathing
This seething ever-romantic feeling
The peeling of skin that reveals the concealed
And opens up the undying existence of the unseen
As my own existence is also undying and unseen
My mind and ego trying to convince me otherwise
This is my illusion
Intruding my mind and infecting it with disparity
And with no clarity of what is to come
I drown in fear that I will succumb
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 2:30 PM UTC
Before I first met u, I was really fine, For the world was still bearable, though not often really nice.
Encompassing new experiences
Though seldom they were mine, the fate so ingenious, in it's mysterious design.
Before I first met u, I was still just fine.
In truth, it was lonely, though I didn't mind.
had taught myself to be reserved,
And not think of anything as mine. Why bother, I reasoned, when it's just a matter of time.
Before I first met u, I was almost fine.
Searching for little happiness, Knowing it ain't easy to find.
Wondering where things went wrong, Or when it would ever be right?
It's destiny, I told, and slept long & scary nights.
But then I first met you, I wasn't nearly fine.
My heart it skipped a beat, though not because of any reason right.
Not knowing what was in store for me, I wondered way ahead,
Not bound by any reasons, coz where would our worlds collide?
And yet when I first met you, there you sat in front.
Infecting all those around you, with your cheerful mirth.
Your smile so heavenly beautiful, my words would not suffice.
A form so serenely peaceful, that the days not quite as bright.
But when can I meet you again, my mind would often dream.
To touch ur beautiful lips, life's not long it seems.
And yet there are boundaries mortal, those don't easily break,
But moments when we hold together, by far the best till date.
when I meet you again, my heart would always seek.
To hold u in my arms so, the world not in our midst.
Our destiny though undecided by what we may think,
Yet if it's at all possible, you are all i ever need.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 4:36 PM UTC
Is the happiness getting to you yet?
Do you wake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat?
The joy is infecting your mind
but the foreign feeling is soon to be denied.
You cough, you *****
You get a diagnosis. You soon find out...
Your sick with happiness.
-Aiyana
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
What is love?
I think it's a virus
infecting so many people
and yet so many are immune.
Left untreated it can lead to a broken heart.
What is love?
We act like it no longer means anything
but we feel it
for friends, family, pets or that special someone,
arguments cause us pain
it can hurt more than we thought, a broken heart
WHAT IS LOVE?
I THINK IT'S A VIRUS
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
She strides down the street,
Holds that cancer stick up to her mouth,
Takes a deep breath in,
Filling her lungs with lethal smoke,
Gradually rotting away her
Interior.
Her heart beats out of her chest.
[A heart divided between two hearts.]
He’s waiting at the street corner
Between the alley of lust and the
Path of ignorance.
She sees his silhouette in the
Distance, a dark apparition.
Her heart leaps out of her chest,
Towards him,
Reaching for him,
Propelling her to him.
She had absolutely no control over the matter.
The other man she loves is home
Alone, waiting for her too.
Moments ago, he
Held her in his arms,
Kissed her goodbye,
Told her to hurry back soon.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too” - the words
Suddenly conveyed
No meaning to her.
She told him she was
Running an errand, when,
In reality,
She was running away
From him.
[*A heart divided between two hearts
Can never really be a heart.*]
His love suffocates her.
His love drowns her
In its constancy,
In its predictability.
With him, she feels like a
Bird with its wings ripped off.
Held captive, in a wire cage.
[*A heart divided between two hearts
Can never beat the way it should.*]
How can a woman with two men
Who love her
Feel so
Staggeringly
Alone?
Who will love her until their
Disintegrating hearts turn into
Simply dust.
[*A heart divided between two hearts
Can never really keep from rupturing,
Infecting the body with its own poisons.*]
So she lets her underground lover
Envelop her in his arms
And kiss her until both of their lips
Are numb,
Until they both want more.
Until they cannot restrain themselves.
His love releases her out of her
Cage, allows her to fly once again.
The passion of these moments
Will never be forgotten.
His love brings the roses back to
Her lifeless cheeks, brings life
Back to the void inside her.
And, his love allows her
To fly back home, once again,
Straight into the arms of the
Man who is her keeper.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 3:05 AM UTC
They had the plastic coffins ready
Before the panic hit, Ebola was a planned
Population reduction project
A good distraction from Economic collapse
Governments always divert your attention
At critical moments in history
The elite wish to keep their control
Ebola had no trouble infecting
Medical professionals, but they assured us
It’s not airborne, it’s only an exchange
Of fluids, so cover up your eyes
Ebola carries with it the heat of Africa
Able to make your blood boil form the inside
A post-colonial bioweapon specifically designed
To make you fear, to make you a follower
I think my stomach can feel it spreading
Around the world, in months, years
You cannot contain something like this
By simple quarantine? Even the medical staff
Don’t want any part in it, so cover your eyes
The black plague drips sinister News
In our times, the mainstream media plans
Consumes with its grip, like Ebola
It has the power to consume, a portable
Killing-machine, enough to linger about doom?
Ebola is an outbreak, taken more seriously
The closer it hits to home, what is home
On a planet of billions of travelling people?
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 2:02 PM UTC
The gift of giving indiscriminately
is a gift we should give indiscriminately
There's a secret to a good life and here's the key
The path to happiness is generosity
Happiness doesn't dilute when you give it away
and it constitutes in everything you say
You can literally have your cake and eat it
depending exactly on how you treat it
take it, use it, split it, pass it on
every time you do that it will be twice as strong
happiness is a virus we need to learn to spread
a pandemic of the head
A vaccine shot straight to the heart
infecting you with a flying start
secret to the deeper hidden meaning of living
that happiness is caused by indiscriminate giving.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 9:04 AM UTC
I once struck a man in anger, with a small statuette.
I dropped it to the floor as he fell, too, and watched the blood flow from his head.
Though as I gazed at the pool of crimson and began to realize what I had done,
I felt a snap and saw a vision:
I saw every drop of his blood.
It was inside his body, flowing, coursing, full of life and giving life.
He grew to raise a family, love his wife, and love his kids.
He helped his coworkers and encouraged them.
He donated to charities, and those charities helped many.
Some of those many improved their lives and helped many more.
As his sons, daughters, wife, and coworkers also were given life by him and gave life,
I saw his blood flow into their veins and spread, infecting countless others with love.
Houses filled with light and laughter
Streets were peopled by happy beings.
A woman comforted a girl in the loss of a friend, holding the sobbing face to her caring chest.
A poor man gave his only coat to a cold orphan boy on the curb, smiling through weathered lips.
I saw all this life,
And it was an ocean.
A flash of light and sound, and I saw another vision:
I saw every drop of his blood.
It was outside his body, flowing, coursing, void of life and stealing life.
As it touched me, I joined it as blood, boiling and bubbling with hate.
As our blood ran down the busy metropolis street of life, it would touch people it came across.
When it did so, they would melt also into a mass of red, splashing outward, and infecting others.
Everyone touched would gasp and turn to scarlet, turning the shop-lined street into a river of blood.
Countless lives were consumed in this manner.
At one point, I finally pooled at the bottom of the street, and stared back from where I came.
The street was now dark and desolate, the bustling life gone.
The shops empty, the skies grey, the ground littered.
A finch plucked strands from a red-stained straw hat, to make a bed of death.
A mangy alley dog lapped up the blood that still coated the street, becoming only more hideous.
And all was quiet, and I was utterly alone, but for the screams of their blood in my ears.
I saw all this death,
And it was an ocean.
A jolt, and I opened my eyes.
I found myself staring at the blood running from the man’s head in front of me.
A few seconds later and I realized again what I had done.
But I realized something else as well.
I tore my shirt and tightly wrapped his head in the cloth.
I lifted him up and took him to the hospital.
There I sat and awaited my punishment.
And took joy in life.
Mar 15, 2012
Mar 15, 2012 at 12:10 PM UTC
And then
the night
comes flooding
in, like
a spilled beer.
Fear is a
rabid bat;
fatally
infecting.
Loneliness is
an ice cube
in a bathtub
melt-
ing
slow-
ly.
Love is a
flat toad in
the road of
life.
Hope is a
broken dish,
an empty
pocket,
a shattered dream.
Life is a sparrow
in the cat's mouth,
an abscessed
tooth, with no
antibiotic.
It's a whale
in a frozen
ocean;
an eagle in the
city.
Insanity is
digging for the
courage to
continue
day after
day
after day.
Aug 5, 2021
Aug 5, 2021 at 12:06 PM UTC
Stupidity is a virus infecting and injecting large amounts of people at a time. He moves through minds with impeccable speed. Some people, no matter the treatments they receive will never recover. For is an Exodus with has the power to ****** masses. He is a force with the ability abolish revolutions and silence movements. Stupidity is chronic, never truly going away, always lurking in shadows waiting to attack. He is a survivor against all odds. Stupidity is perpetually kicking and screaming, fighting to remain the echo of humanity. Refusing to be ignored and never promising to stay quiet. Stupidity lives on amongst Gods and Kings, continuing to rule with an iron fist.
Apr 22, 2012
Apr 22, 2012 at 3:14 AM UTC
Poets, the disciples of the modern world.
Followers of the great Almighty Lord of
alliteration and symbolism.
Their eccentric natures make them the pariahs of this world.
We cannot wrap our minds around
the words they artfully speak,
so we refuse to accept them.
Their eyes burn like fire in their skulls
as they stare you down from a podium.
In their hands, they hold their own hearts
which they have ripped out of their chests,
holding them out as if asking for you to accept it from them, wanting you to understand what every beat means.
Poets are misunderstood beings,
tortured creatures,
but they are far stronger than any others,
because they have the gall to speak their minds unforgivingly,
bare their most inner secrets and struggles
to an audience of strangers.
They are quick of tongue,
speaking faster than one's ear can hear,
but somehow they still manage to work themselves into your head with every word.
They're parasites,
infecting your mind and soul,
tugging at you and driving themselves into your brain
until their poems are all you think of.
But they are not evil parasites.
They hurt us and make us feel to save us.
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 11:49 PM UTC
One of us will never see,
True light by essence of purity,
Ever once more
The contamination of one of us,
Has taken, has blinded
The original vision.
One of us has let it spread,
To the other, filling dread,
Infecting and destroying purity,
Crystallizing something important
That wasn't to be forgotten
Preserving righteousness
Through Arrogance
I must curse you.
I must thank you.
You.
Oct 25, 2011
Oct 25, 2011 at 9:40 PM UTC
The voice I hear is ruminating in my head,
that treacherous depart was wounded instead of behead.
How I long for this pain to leave akin the December sky,
this imminent glory was only dreamed about in disguise.
How persuasive the universe was to the story,
it did not project the upcoming fury.
Of a devious bequeath that upheld the tantrum,
the sky soared with anger until its utter collapse.
When a drop of water fell from the engorging sky;
it dropped thousands of miles beneath,
until it splattered like a human who couldn’t breathe.
This anger spread like a wildfire, infecting all those longed desires.
The heart of which pumped no more blood,
Became equivalent to a plant breathing through a frozen sun.
Nature believed there were no further storms,
until the quarrel beneath was profoundly explored.
Through the bodies sensation one could not ignore,
made the heartache of this man’s soul.
Oh why are humans so weak.
Must the sun anger the kindness soul,
For I had only hoped for evermore.
Was I a victim who loved no more?
Or an open heart waiting to explore?
This journey could not be real,
however, it became nurturing to one’s appeal.
The ignorance disguised as love evidently appeared,
as the devil danced around as one had feared.
Ambiguous to the commonality of faith,
that created an ambivalence that aroused distaste.
The traitor became her experience and ego her age,
I was in love with a spiritual woman of a certain year of age.
By: Michael M. De La Fuente
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
I am the **********
and poetry is my ****
slapping me around with its,
enriched vocabulary,
scarred vowels across my face.
A-E-I-O-U,
i owe you,
1 minute of sinful poetry.
I put a ****** on the mic so I
wouldn't pass off my poetic S.T.D.
infecting the dictionary.
but my grammar was incorrect.
after 9 months-
OOPS!
out comes the alphabet.
and when i gave birth to English,
you took it from me and created tongue twisters,
poetic metaphors that will have you,
speechless.
and I'm back at point one.
I am the **********
and poetry is my ****
scarred vowels across my face.
A-E-I-O-U.
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 6:48 PM UTC
Look at me;
watch as my body
caves to your
everything.
Your hands are
like a poison
seeping into
my skin,
infecting every
inch of my body.
But please,
continue on,
I won't dare ask
you to stop;
You're easily the
worst, best thing
that's ever happened
to me.
-JRM
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 11:29 PM UTC
there is cholera in the time of love.
quarantined feelings
making sure this fever
will not spike to five hundred
sixty-one.
there is cholera in the time of love.
gas masks of affection
hazmat suits of admiration
latex gloves of love.
is it the cholera infecting
the love or the
love infecting the
cholera?
May 9, 2010
May 9, 2010 at 10:25 PM UTC
"Foreigner in my own land"
Words that I will forever have in my skin.
This tattoo, means
An ancestral burden that I did not choose.
Quoted directly,
From a man... Who faught
Side by side with heroes in order to gain a taste of freedom.
An ideal he believed essential.
But....
The tint of his skin, and his mother tongue,
determined his fate...
He was forever exiled from the country he fought for and held on so dear.
"Foreigner in my own land."
Generations passed,
And we still hold this burden.
My roots... Determined something.
An idea that I am less according to some.
My people are fighting a fight,
That shouldnt even exist.
And I am proud to say...
I am a foreigner in my own land.
Because no matter where I go...
I am a stranger.
Regardless of race and color.
We will always be foreigners to others. Yet,
I am a stranger that will hold a smile,
And welcome the bigotry.
I know what I am.
And I am proud.
Instead of infecting others with hate....
Let us celebrate our differences and appreciate each other.
Because we are all Foreigners.
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 12:24 AM UTC
*“If people bring so much courage
to this world the world has to ****
them to break them, so of course
it kills them. The world breaks every
one and afterward many are*
strong at the broken places."
A Farewell to Arms,
Ernest Hemingway
<>
struggling with so much,
then this scripture of writing sent
by some unfamiliar, a providential
provider; and I am realized, this man
is broken in ways you have no idea,
can~not comp~re~hend
understanding floods, healing
required, for I too have been killed,
my trust and beliefs, trashed,
too many fools who think that
moral equivalence is a thing,
that the unspeakable is justified,
hatred makes me so broke so low,
how,
justification is not justice,
nor an excuse to do whatever
cross the street, and believe,
that drivers will honor a red,
a stop sign, but plenty think
this don’t apply to me, not me
getting on the back of a line
is for fools, people who cannot answer
the arrogant question of the insistent
“Do You Know Who I am?”
I know who I am, yet the ponderance
of evidence says that is not enough,
I
am insufficient,
I am less
than human,
I am
undeserving,
because of my
ancestry
And I will spare you the precise definitions of these statements,
for it should be unnecessary, you should be nodding in agreement, clear eyed understanding, intuitive, in your own broken bones felt!
But,
my bones are broken, and the healing needs a source, a “see here”
directive, explain me how my insane madness is not a proper
responsa to the
weight of hate
my eyes see, seen,
and that my own
eyes
are not lying,
but believed.
but intuitively understood
that my broken bones can be
healed, each in their own way,
so I will retire, perhaps return
when, even if not fully recovered,
sufficient to care enough,
ready to be rebroken, again,
for this! this! is my
true poetic ancestry
thousands of years have not broken us,
and never will, for it is not fear that will
prevent our resurrection, for we immunized,
for what unimaginable have we not known, and yet recovered,
this,
I believe,
my healing will be quiet, solitary, removed
from the distractive noises of invective infecting,
but I will be present,
for my children, and my children’s children will
look to this ancestor and learn that his blood
and bones deeds them the self-healing properties
that always has and always will defeat those
who seek to destroy your future
1) the DNA of your ancestry
inherited inherent in your bone marrow
and bone tissue is continuously remodeled
through the concerted actions of bone marrow cells
2) Stem cells in your red bone marrow
(hematopoietic stem cells) create red and
white blood cells and platelets, all of which
are components of your whole blood.
so here is our truth:
when,
***The world breaks every
one and afterward many are
strong at the broken places!***
our whole blood will replenish us
Nov 17, 2023
Nov 17, 2023 at 10:09 AM UTC
It isn't sadness;
that is the biggest misconception.
People treat it like an emotion infecting a blue day,
labeling slightly soaked cheeks as this ailment of the mind.
The term is cracked like a whip in stinging insult:
weak, powerless, loser, outcast.
It is feeling a lack of feeling,
where one exists in a mental state of wanting to be anything but lethargic
yet finding nothing worthwhile inside
with which to take action:
no talent, no skill, no interest.
It is not only not believing one has any energy
but seeing nothing to which to give it,
in yourself, in others, in the world.
It is severe despondency and dejection,
consuming worlds like oozing, viscose magma
dribbling uncontrollably as burning ***** from the mountain's fiery mouth
burping filthily as is sludges onward.
It isn't sorrow, or misery, or despair.
It is inadequacy,
an ebb of interest in life,
with a sliver of interest to take it.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC
i always wanted to be
that girl
too brilliant to resist
too pretty to dis
that girl that stops traffic
walking down the street
that's the pretty girl, i wanted to be
and today i'm sure, that girl is me
but turns out
it ain't all it's cracked up to be
cause i've learned about her life
all her pain
all the abuse
how she'll never be a wife
how you smile to her face
while you stab her in the back
twisting as you push in the knife
i've watched her drag herself
across the coals for your love
beg for peace, like soaring doves
cry for relief as she crawls down the street
after your threw her out
like an out of date piece of meat
collectively flooding her world
all those tears that she's cried
all the disappointment that she's felt, for even having tried
i've watched her fade away
like that soul of hers that died
the day you showed her you'd never love her
for anything more, like her heart and mind
so she jumped from man to man
searching for the plug
to stop up that hole you dug
with rusty shovels and all your poisonous words
words so sharp they cut instantly deep
infecting her with your thoughts and beliefs
just so those physical benefits you'd reap
so you twist her thoughts of love and her worth
and deceive her and make her feel less than dirt
like the ground you walk on
cause you walked all over her
and your name's all over those scars she incurred
you wanna hold her close and tight
but only when it suits you right?
then pretend that you don't know her
this girl, she's been broken
by the thing she thought she wanted
she just wanted to be a pretty face
that anyone would notice
but a pretty face doesn't get you respect
it just got her used
he drew her in, and she loved him
so she let herself be abused
like a cloud covering the sky
she'd fake it just to get by
and she might just never try
again, to look her best
cause those days weren't her fondest
when you could treat her such a way
like the disposable pretty face of a women
that won't stand for it another day
so now when people to her say
"..you're such a pretty face.."
she can tell them all this story
and how unpretty it really is in this place
Dec 7, 2010
Dec 7, 2010 at 8:49 PM UTC
You hijack the cells of my body
Like a virus
Infecting
Restricting.
You've ensured that when it is
Crucial
That I fight back
I am unable to.
I am left
Powerless and unmoving,
Save the ever so slight
Fluttering of eyelids.
You've turned me against myself
Trapped me in a useless mind
That cannot feel
The love he has for me
The love that would heal me
If only I could feel it.
But you've know all along what you're up against,
And you've known all along that you -
That I -
That We
Cannot win.
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 5:49 AM UTC