"influx" poems
I'm on the run
And not for fun
The police are chasing
My heart is racing
When my life is at stake
My morality I'll break
The police release the hounds
I can hear their deadly sounds
They want to maim me
I want to stay me
I decide to fight the charging canines
Because I just snorted a ******* line
My judgement loses length
To my influx of strength
I break the dogs' legs
Until they beg
That's not enough
Sorry Scruff
The steel gun I fire
A furry cop retired
The police attack me
For defending myself
They refuse to see
The danger to my health
They chose to use crazy canines
So I feel the fault isn't mine
That doesn't change their decision
For me to die slowly in prison
I am in the teeth of the government
Much to my human wonderment
This is the way I'll spend the rest of my life
For the decisions I made at the end of a knife
The irony is cops **** dogs all the time
Yet they obstruct their vision of the line
Where it ceases to be man versus society
And becomes man versus nature
When a man is in peril
He must turn feral
But in a country that blindly idolizes aggression
The police don't acknowledge this discretion
They dig their teeth into our skin
While draining us financially
The only way we'll ever win
Is if things change substantially
Sadism fervently fuels the flames of conflict
With an exasperated public sick of being kicked
Cruelty is what they witness
To lose their mental fitness
How can they protect their babies
When the police have rabies?
The police relationship with the effected public will never shift
When there's a Cereberus between them maintaining the rift
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 5:35 AM UTC
Hear ye my statute, men of Attica--
Ye who of bloodshed judge this primal cause;
Yea, and in future age shall Aegeus's host
Revere this court of jurors. This the hill
Of Ares, seat of Amazons, their tent,
What time 'gainst Theseus, breathing hate, they came,
Waging fierce battle, and their towers upreared,
A counter-fortress to Acropolis;--
To Ares they did sacrifice, and hence
This rock is titled Areopagus.
Here then shall sacred Awe, to Fear allied,
By day and night my lieges hold from wrong,
Save if themselves do innovate my laws,
If thou with mud, or influx base, bedim
The sparkling water, nought thou'lt find to drink.
Nor Anarchy, nor Tyrant's lawless rule
Commend I to my people's reverence;--
Nor let them banish from their city Fear;
For who 'mong men, uncurbed by fear, is just?
Thus holding Awe in seemly reverence,
A bulwark for your State shall ye possess,
A safeguard to protect your city walls,
Such as no mortals otherwhere can boast,
Neither in Scythia, nor in Pelops's realm.
Behold! This Court august, untouched by bribes,
Sharp to avenge, wakeful for those who sleep,
Establish I, a bulwark to this land.
This charge, extending to all future time,
I give my lieges. Meet it as ye rise,
Assume the pebbles, and decide the cause,
Your oath revering. All hath now been said.
3.6k
you pledge allegiance to a certain type of government
a nation that is ruled by fat men
in ***** dens that cloud the air with smoke
that waters your eyes so you can water their poppy fields
all the while with your right hand over a heart
that beats feverishly with the influx
of toxins that mix with your blood
diluting the poppy petal red
with clear atoms that bubble on spoons
in the shape of bone crossed skulls
they rule with iron fists clenched around
green paper that they take from you and your people
and sell fresh needles as necessary happiness
to counteract the sadness they have created and placed you in
they sit there with smoke rings coming from o-shaped lips
that ring around the perpetual cycle of
supply and demand
supplying addiction and wrapping it in itches
and demanding your free left hand
scratch that itch.
scratch that itch so hard that your skin opens up
and the pain requires more relief.
the nation you live in waves its flag with
173 stars representing Celsius and not celestial
because space is far away from this place
and offers too much unknown for you to think
that unknown is the opposite of the sadness you know
and maybe there is happiness there
where hands are free from swollen veins that act
as puppet strings.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 6:56 PM UTC
.
• they say light-
ning never stri-
kes • twice in
the very same
place•not as
if it chooses
the person
it likes•nor
has it targ-
eted a familiar face • growing
accustomed to these repeated
jolts•i stay fro-
zen in anticip-
tion•for subs-
equent influx
of volts•is th-
is love or me-
re petty infa-
tuation?•ca-
n't believe my luck • be-
cause time... and again,
inevitably•i
stand here,
apparently
struck•e-
very ti-
me you
cast a...
a gla-
nce
at
•
ME•
.
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
Infinite amounts of definitions could not depict
The extent to which a structured norm
Is measured
Blindness adjoins clarity, while sight provokes vanity
It is an aspect unhindered, lacking certainty
A single word yet so many portraits
Drawn on the canvas of our linked pathways
If you ask me about beauty, don’t
For my lips would quiver nonsense to you, to me
The mass of the universe that surrounds our whole being
The endless rows of glimmering stars that speak to our vulnerable eyes
Or perhaps, the raging force of life that springs from within us
If you ask me about beauty, don’t
Because you would have to look at yourselves to see
The beaming smiles corresponding with velvet risings of cheeks
The abundance of glistening tears that have embodied those very same
And even, the flashing spark of joy which invites a feeling of utter content
If you ask me about beauty, don’t
Otherwise there would be an influx of sentiments towards
The prettiness of colored nature, steadiness of height-breaking hills
The calmness of the bare sound of waves crashing into an advocacy for peace
The building blocks of surroundings that determine you and me
So if you ever want to ask me about beauty,
Bare the consequences in mind
Just the elaborate thought of such a question
Could raise a plethora of reasonings
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 7:21 AM UTC
Hidden coves of love disguised by cold eyes
Chances not yet given.
Angry tones escape tooth filled holes
Drilling dissent through another's soul.
Selfish is the only answer,
yet not an excuse.
Forgive the fool.
He is you
She is I
We are one.
Negative polarities combusting innocent eyes.
Lost in the essence of the moment.
This is an apology for the mournful cries.
forgive the fool
he is you
she is I
we are one.
distinct beings intertwined amongst the influx
passengers and neighbors, reactive tension
impulses of separation.
pause for a moment. breath together.
similar beings galvanized by difference
nutrition for acceptance.
forgive the fool
he is you
she is I
we are one.
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 11:53 AM UTC
I will never be
ensconced in
charming lace
valentine
hearts
candypink encased
You will not see me
withering away
back of hand
upon brow
in fainting stance
in a flowing silk dress
swinging on a
perfect bough
For I am a river
wild and true
sometimes quiet
sometimes
roaring and
soaring in
shimmering hues:
Blues and greens
mixed with shades
of earth, of fire
bespeaking emotions
in tones of desire
My river can get messy
can flood over too fast
because my heartstrings
get pulled
by the strength of
the blast
It can bring up
colored stones
in its undertow
fish and otters
spinning
in voodoo
overflow
As the colors rise up
in this heated coolness,
this deluge
the influx overwhelms me
with a power so huge
and then I need
some metallics,
flecks of silver and gold
to soothe
passion's piquancy
when it gets
particularly bold
Specked within rocks
to ground me, keep
my feet on the soil
prevent my heart
from slipping
down into
a choking,
hot oil
Bronze minerals reflect
peaks of sadness,
searing pain
from rawness of hurt
with no one to blame
Yes, it can be a balm
and also a burn
to be so linked
by spirit-threads
to another, in emotions
that churn
just on the brink
but never truly there
to experience the
fullness of rush
ripe culmination
abundant and lush
and that's when the
river turns
into molten
lava...
and I must dig
deep under
layers of ancient strata
seeking relief
in coolness of earth
as my spirit
again undergoes
a kind of rebirth
For when we
grow to love
strange things
happen, indeed
In the core of
my essence
you are the root
of my
seed
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 9:58 AM UTC
Mad Hatter's getting narcissistic without his tea
That's how I feel when I can't burn things
but you can't spell "arsonist" without A-R-T
Maybe I'm crazy but honestly it's therapy
Bolt the door to the party and listen to them scream
Oceans of commotion won't extinguish my latest masterpiece
So kick back, fire up a cig
Get that influx of carcinogens
Conducive to my sick mind
Twisted nihilist
Got a pack of matches
Now I'm dreaming in a pipe
Erupt into flames
Sit back and look at all the pretty lights
The way they dance in the wind
Such an alluring sight
It's really just poetry in motion
As I watch through kaleidoscopic eyes
I'll smoke to that.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC
A written word is the choicest of relics,
It is something at once more intimate with us,
And more universal than any other work of art,
Just as books are the treasured wealth of the world,
I wanted to live deliberately,
So I went to the woods,
And I found it wholesome to be alone there,
For we need the tonic of wildness,
A single gentle rain,
Makes the grass many shades greener,
So our prospects brighten,
On the influx of better thoughts,
We should be blessed if we lived in the present always,
And took advantage of every accident that befell us.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 8:59 PM UTC
Herein, laying dormant,
veils of reposed
secrecy 'neath
foamy seascapes'
frenetic passages,
languishing below
sunken treasures'
false facades of
reticently rolling
shrouded bluffs,
shaded of darkly impetuous
hued blood in
unceremoniously
bound convolutions,
a million ancient
undisclosed shadows hidden,
notwithstanding combative
rumblings of death's
unwelcome sycophancy,
depths of centuries'
old unparalleled stories,
whence hush-hush
undulatory influx
of defiant upsurges
and turbulence reside,
that of which only the
winds of indiscretion,
clandestine spirits
& gods could surmise
...as privileged moons watch over amaranthine skeletons
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 6:57 AM UTC
Another haunt is arriving, feverishly fast tonight.
Somehow I managed to delay the feeling, briefly,
as it usually takes the manageable Subway and begins to fester around high noon, but today I skipped lunch,
and the feeling didn't go underground for her mode of transport.
"Maybe I hit the lotto?", I secretly questioned,
and the haunt would forget her requiem, passing over me
like those lucky "Kennedy Husbands" during the sixties' draft.
But I was getting divorced while all the other couples
were on a faster track heading in the opposite direction.
Tonight the haunt is traveling 248 mph,
on the Fùxīng ** bullet train from Beijing to Shanghai, en route to Vietnam.
The conductor yelled, "All Aboard."
and as if that period denoted a punctual mark,
everyone manically crammed into the narrow vehicle.
The first influx of lovely passengers to board were,
Missus Anxiety, Sir Prior Transgressions and Dr. Heartache.
Unlike Dr. Feelgood,
They had been waiting in line from the previous night,
like those idiots for last week’s black Friday sale.
Mr. and Mrs. Payments Past Due cut in front of
Bills Esquire and Judge Job Insecurity,
for the Belmont Superfecta win, I guessed the right horses, just didn’t box my bet.
Congressman Careless and Deputy ******* nearly trampled Senator Surrender on the way through the turnstiles,
while Mayor Moan was flagged by security for groaning
and pulled aside for a pat down and wheelchair inspection.
The Mayor was found to have ******* residue on his sleeve, but legitimate prescriptions for his aches and pains,
so TSA
wheeled him through the crack rocks
Analog veins pump analog blood to my analog heart;
traveling for the journey and not its hasty destination.
My analog heart will eventually be shelved,
as it still salutes the Subway on its journey to my soul,
but like dusting off an old Coen Brothers flick,
my analog heart is still entertaining its vintage tick.
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 9:23 PM UTC
Loving me is hell and hell is dense
And hell is heavy
And hell is hot
Dense with the influx of passing souls
That nudge elbows of their brother sinners
In tight elevators that hum not
Piano music but drums so loud
They convert heart beats to 808 rhythms
They shake the victims of vices so
Hard the change falls from their pockets
And bounces back up into their eyes
Hell is heavy
It is heavy with the weight of lies
And of the truths of passions sought and met
With only finger tips and white lips
The vicious bosses of mobs
And the cemented feet of snitches caught
Hell is dense
It is packed tighter than fingers in fists
Clenched fixed on righting wrongs
The air there is hot with breathes
Held in and finally released with
The unbuttoning of sliming corporate tuxes
Fastened inside out so the brass buttons brand and burn
The business boys’ bantam bodies
While they look up at the men the tired to measure up to
But where always a stich or two short
Hell is hot
Hot and steaming with the blood of the corrupt
That was spilt and then encountered a tilt
Down a funnel mixed with rotten oil
Left stagnant by sinners that sought not
To move a finger to clean up that gunk
The steam from sinners water not sweat
Boil sweet and steamy up into the
Mouths of men with jaws wired open
And rested on their bellies that are propped up
By guns taking all that is sweet for themselves
This is hell
This, like me,
Feels tastes sounds and smells
Of dense hot and heavy
Sins deadly appealing
And dammingly just.
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 6:43 PM UTC
I'm gonna unfollow everyone whom i currently do, and begin the list again, so as to renew the chaos that is the influx of beautious word-art I so enjoy and revere, but so seldom have time to sift through and give the attention and mind that is warranted to each and every one created by all'a y'all wonderous souls.
if I neglect to re-add anyone, please do not take it personally! anyone who is ostensibly active enough on my posts will, for obvious reasons, be most likely to be put back on my stalking list.
I realize this might come off as a bit selfish or narcissistic, perhaps vain or something,
and it very well might be,
but I'm strangely okay with that.
If you have a bone to pick with that,
I beseech thee to consider the following:
what part of you wants it to be that way,
what that reduction allows you to justify,
and how that makes you feel.
Just some fast food for thought.
;)
much love to you all,
and blessings upon thy paths.
see you in the future!
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 8:20 AM UTC
I find questions to the answers damning;
They quote the darkest volumes,
And speak in whispered tones
That haunt my mind with lemmings.
Thrilling chills reverberate
Throughout my spine, intoxicating
The superfluous influx of aeon.
In Elysium I await.
Forgotten songbirds’ melodies
Are ripe within their own stages,
However, the message behind their incantations,
Mocks the frigid winds of change.
Apologetic reverences deny the peaceful hum
Of every ***** and flute of desire
And of all the lyres to be strummed.
Stumbling upon a corpse of old,
Necrosis doth eat away,
Putridity and phobia have at last been lead astray,
Maggots upon maggots, an **** of disease,
Now struggle for control here,
In the epitome of our dying age.
The eyes that once saw hope,
And the heart that once felt love,
Our absentee in place of rot,
And are swapped with rustic carrion.
The dismal breeze that flow
Swiftly under the crest of raven-wing,
Solidify bones as well as the toxins that
Cryptically burn and sting.
A creation of mass panic, euphoria
Are bound to allow riot’s treason,
A repentance of nostalgia
For uncountable reasons.
Alas, we have but come close enough to success,
To amount in a drowning of failure,
To kiss the shores of dreams come true,
And to be denied of those dreams’ savior.
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC
As a Sports Illustrated model it's no secret that she has the ability to turn heads.
So as Hannah Ferguson marked day 30 of LOVE magazine's video advent she did so in smouldering fashion to ensure her debut was not easily forgotten.
Showing off her moves to the sound of Drake's Hotline Bling, the 23-year-old owned the shoot as she cavorted in a slashed corset dress.
Whipping her hair back and forth, Ferguson appeared to forego underwear beneath the daring form fitted number.
Becoming the definition of sensual, a pair of sheer stockings and Giuseppe Zanotti black patent leather lace-up stilettos completed the cover girl's look.
With her hair worn in its natural state, the beautiful blonde's striking blue eyes are lined with kohl liner while her pout is coated in a shade of **** lipstick.
Preened to perfection, the two minute clip is formatted in slow motion as the Texan beauty, who resides in the Big Apple, seductively gyrated on the floor.
In the film Hannah also displays her comical side as she flashed her pearly white while attempting to do the 'Stanky Leg' dance.
Ferguson's debut sees her join the likes of Kendall Jenner, Cara Delevingne, Rita Ora and Adriana Lima who all featured in the 2015 edition of the online countdown to the new year.
The LOVE magazine advent calendar, now in its fifth year, has seen an influx of 8.2 million views since launching on December 1.
read more:http://www.marieaustralia.com
www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses
Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 2:20 AM UTC
For brothers with sisters,
You hug her and miss her,
See her grow up,
From the time she didn't know much,
Now see her go the distance,
From the innocence to influx,
Of all the things you didn't wish her,
From arguing to mix ups,
For brothers with sisters,
All the love and the insults,
Her first friend and confidant
When she doesn't feel that confident,
The only peace maker,
For the nervous teenager,
The secrets you are sharing,
You couldn't tell your parents,
The only one who knows about your secret girlfriend,
The only one you can trust for certain,
From the "Stay away from her mister!"
To "my cutest sister"
For brothers with sisters,
Fighting for the smallest things,
Thinking you could win,
Do anything to make her smile again,
Promise to never see her cry again,
Until those funny things you whisper,
From a brother to a sister*
May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
June 28th 2015, 02:53am
The sun shall ascend in the morning, in a benediction of golden light.
Birdsong shall scatter through the air as brightly as sunlight on water,
butterflies shall rise in ragged flight, seeking out meadow nectars,
as peace breaks out throughout the peaks and valleys.
The man who works the land shall return, hungry and weary from his toil
to find his house still standing, as it always was before.
The rivers shall leap and dance over rocks and crash into waterfall ravines,
and no influx of blood shall taint their waters.
Peace shall resound in the calls of birds and laughter of children;
man shall lie with woman in untroubled spiritual and physical accord;
curve into hollow to curve, softly entwining and cradled in love,
and no sudden sounds shall disturb their loving.
The moon shall rise in the evening; swathed in luminescent clouds.
Retiring songs of birds shall herald the coming of twilight.
Peaceful breath of slumber shall rise and fall as night descends,
and all closed eyes shall be open again at sunrise.
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
mornings brew a coffee-colored universe:
milky way of latte mixes,
spiral galaxies whirl on the caffeine-intoxicated mug
ground beans fell like the Geminid showers,
the aroma danced with rising planets,
and swirling reverse black hole of sweet bitterness lets you taste warmth and satisfaction.
like a shot of caffé espresso,
i would never think twice drinking:
though it scorches the mouth
i'll take the stellar influx,
just give you the taste of heaven
that the cosmic dreams only had.
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 4:31 AM UTC
Why did we meet?
Wanted love but I'm faced with defeat
Souls confront at the moment of separation
Hours of captivation lured my makeup to sedation
Homecoming brought aspiration for our unities firm imminents
But elapsed time left liberty for another's feelings of intense sentiment
Fortune brought the tides of our fates to fasten in sync anew
For the light of your sheath left my lips to never mutter another adieu
Lack of presence molded every ambition to conclude with you
Fondness for your heart carved no room for our courting to undo
Your very structure reproduced in facsimile to my psyche
Bountiful love influx my spirit bounding my soul from defying
Uncontrollable passion awaited the culmination of my hour exile
Expecting the ripest of the body but faced with something more juvenile
Incandescent feelings brings pain to my mind, body, and soul
Waiting patiently for these long awaited feelings to unfold
Into heartless darkness robes of a man without compassion
Or someone unlovable but masked with false face of a former gentleman's attraction
Forced the realization true love is not attained through a man's unchangeable chivalry
But a savage bleak mind that seeps more and more through open pores unwillingly
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 11:01 PM UTC
splurge on the urge to serve well colored desserts
binge with no purge.
chomp away conversation and feel it where it hurts
you are more abundant,
than all the currency you could ever carry in your pocket or purse
yet one of those black holes carries anxiety, profiling, while fear lurks
For many moons, mirrors were dispersed to the cursed,
Weeping and wallowing in whispering whirlwinds of woeful words unheard -
preventing
the never-ending spreading by attempting image cementing,
projecting lists with thoughtless flaws causing immediate rejection
with time the mind played a game to cage you in it's name,
draining your pay, benefits, and full pension
releasing the need to sow the seed for an introspective gaze
you hold the key to breathe through the chains of that imaginatory detention space
inhale
exhale
Suddenly walls lift from the maze you assumed was fatal race
Your heart glows
Knowing you're on the path you were hinted at but never faced
To forever flow forward with a loving third eye seeing absolute grace,
emitting energy in everyone, thing, mirror, and place
immediate influx of infectious bliss-infusing airwaves vibrate to the tune of soul affection~
to realize inbetween scenes you appreciate the mystery,
part of a pinpoint plan, puzzle piecing the learned ability to see -perfection~
It's you.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:32 AM UTC
You pledge allegiance to a certain type of government.
A nation that is ruled by fat men
in ***** dens who fill the air so heavy with smoke
it tears up your eyes so you can water their poppy fields
and all the while with your right hand over your heart
that beats feverishly with the influx
of toxins that mix with your blood
and dilute the red poppy petal
with clear atoms that bubble on spoons
in the shape of bone crossed skulls.
They rule with iron fists clenched around
green paper that they take from you only
to sell you back fresh needles as necessary happiness
to counteract the sadness they have created and placed you in.
They sit there with smoke rings coming from o-shaped lips
that ring around the perpetual cycle of
supply and demand-
supplying addiction and wrapping it in itches
and demanding your free left hand scratch
and you do, you scratch so hard that your skin opens up
and the pain requires more relief.
The nation you live in waves its flag with
173 stars representing Celsius and not celestial
because space is far away from this place
and it offers too much unknown for you to think
that there is a different world besides the one they own
and maybe there is true happiness there
somewhere where hands are free from swollen veins
that act as puppet strings.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 5:00 PM UTC
Emotions drift with an influx of selflessness,
Edging and forcing one to do actions which may in turn be unwanted,
Emotions drift with a sweet sense of goodbye,
Relieving one of many duties and giving the most ever precious reward,
Emotions drift to a new source,
But the love still remains
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 2:31 AM UTC
Certain American cities are said
To be on the rise
While others at the same time
Decay into their own demise
Those that prosper are being told
You must grow!
You must accommodate the influx of capital
Even if some must go
To those who are priced out
Evicted or displaced
The powers that be simply could not care
That you miss your grandma's face
The solution they say
Is to build to meet demand
No matter that this fills the pockets
Of those who rigged the scam
If supply is the problem
That is not meeting demand
Then why are the two densest cities in the States
The most expensive to live in
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 5:10 PM UTC