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Shofi Ahmed Dec 2017
The moon is still hanging low
since it came down so close.

The seven seas dance
beneath her polished feet
but could never touch it.

Then the intact moon,
in fact, did unleash
only when one popped
out ahead of the rest.
Down from the earth
luminary Muhammad
Peace be upon him
pointed his finger towards it.
And into two halves
did the Moon split!

But the man wouldn’t touch it
and remained with us all
with every human the Moon dwarfs!
Commemorating the birthday of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). One of his miracles was that he split the moon after some pagans asked him to show them a miracle to prove he is a prophet.
Poetoftheway Aug 2018
how do you know when (a human is too broken?)



<•>

human too broken?

like the light bulb, removal from its fixture, a simple shaking revelation of the tinkling filament spent, something that cannot be repaired, the only option is replacement and that makes
you cry

the empty box of oatmeal raisin cookies, you find secret’d,
hid by you, not to be found by you
at the bottom of the kitchen garbage,
but box betrayal, by the chartreuse tipped box lid sided
peeking upwards, asking, silencing screaming,
what did I do to deserve
this degrading

like the blouse now too tight that it brings stares as the buttons strain, unwelcome attention unintended,
you know it but still pretend not to see,
for you both once loved that silky guise that so
heightened the high tender, the match of your pink rose skin letting, no! making
your eyes glisten, like broken filament glass, on the sidewalk,
recalling the pleasured admiration,
rain remembered from the
prior priority of a life consisting of only
perfect gifts

so mean revert to the poseur question; this is how...

remove the human from a fixed place, whimpering-threatened,
you may hear clear the crackle cackling  of the innard shards against the misperception of a body intact,
even if you do,
no repair service you want,  can be found, see it nowhere,
is it even
anywhere advertised?

the body presumed intact is secret’d under a tactile coverlet,
holey scupperrd holy cuttered
so that the cells and bicuspids, the threads
no longer function in a tandem,
you keep it in the closet closed,
in the back, deep hid, where,
when it screams why,
it can be safe ignored,
because  ‘betrayed’ is no longer a word,
in your globe's dictionary,
the parental controls activated by you to
save your own inner child’s unconstrained confusion,
it has been removed


so the broken glass, the clothes you dressed each other,
if not weep-well,
well enough hid,
the fit is off,
the fit is off,
the coverlet ripped so bad and neither cares
an unexpected poem, unplanned, needing work
aug 4-5
Corvus Mar 2018
Some things don't end smoothly.
It's not the slow braking of a car,
A seamless transition from driving to a standstill.
Sometimes you need to slam on.
And it never happens silently,
There's always a screech or a thud or a gasp,
It takes you by surprise and it lurches you forward.
You have to hold on for dear life.
The unexpected nature of it wreaks havoc on your insides;
Butterflies are woken up from your stomach and become nausea.
You check to see if all your limbs are intact, or in fragments.
Then you do the same for your heart,
Searching to see if it went through the windshield
Or if it managed to stay held inside by your unyielding ribs,
Only ever collapsing under the strain of breaths,
Hyperventilating into an airbag.
Some things don't end smoothly.
It's not the steady sigh of relief,
It's the jagged, shaky breaths that never fully extend
In or out, and there's no calming halt afterwards,
Just a process of continuously hitting the brakes.
Her heart's a captive Iole,
my hands pressed softly to her back.

Lips a place where I will stay,
to keep our love intact.

And at her lips I shall stay,
to keep our love intact.
Finally this Mint Assembly is Complete
As the Last Great Angel will sure confirm
Eight Gold Aureoles from Best Moments replete
A Standing Ovation his Spirit burns
See now, Prince of the Plym! And Testify
How they shared Lives to fertilise your Growth
There was no Contract; Only Hearts abide
Reminding you the Cradle of your Birth
Now you, Sweet Divine, to your Future's spout
Kindly live yourself well for Dream's extract
Know my Prayers stand as Friends throughout
Yet a Friend-on-Purpose I dress intact.
Eight Best Friends. Eight Blessed Souls I give Breath:
Kate. Dil. Jess. Beck. Lauren. Kat. Alice. Beth.
#daleysangels #bethanderson_10
Traveler Mar 2014
The pendulum swings at a steady speed
Inevitably life upon me feeds
I dreamt of real in my illusion
Destiny like free-will a mere delusion
Today’s all but gone, am I still intact
To pull love’s knife out of my back
Brilliantly dim this light of mine
I strain to glimpse the bottom line
These nights do linger pain becomes art
The Cut that Never Heals still bleeds my heart
Traveler Tim

re to 3-19
In impulsive scenes, in adjacent moments
when eyes are locked and hearts are ardent
then passion strikes, a threat is posed
the lover's heart becomes opposed

astounded by the wondrous fact
Affections - real, just so intact!
a brilliant pause; the story alters

the lover finds love the moment he stutters.
O' heart, reveal thy secrets
The Trail of Tears we Sturdy Braves must face
Shows the Lone Star Maiden who won his Cause
Celebrate! Even Defeat sings your Praise
Now our Songs extract Victory from Loss
Just how Darling Painful this News must be
Which Fifty Swords stab our Sole Hearts intact
We are Respectful here; Just wait and see
If this Edict of Worries paint us Black
This is NOT the Way! My Promise to You
Even though you know me not from Adam
I am a Cowboy mighty Honest and True
West Traditions unite: Godspeed, my Madam!
Look, Diver Boy! The Medal on your Neck
Scowls at your Value and asks you to Relfect.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
ryn Feb 2015
I wish me invisible
I want to disappear
I am but a damsel
Parading in knight's gear

I want to be the unknown
I need to be again a stranger
I wish my secrets not shown
Back to a time when it was clearer

I wish to be a zephyr
I want to be felt not seen
I need to be less of the liar
At least lesser than I have been

I crave the comfort of solitude
I long for the absence of physical contact
I miss the tears that once had ensued
Somehow then I was more intact

I want to be an undetermined star
I need to be unnamed in an uncharted galaxy
I wish to retreat behind my avatar
So you won't see the real me

I wish me invisible
I want to be protected by ambiguity
I need to disappear from this debacle
Into the welcoming arms of anonymity
zebra Aug 2018
im a self describing a self
a face on a liquid surface
a plasticity
a brain
a three pound infinity
always remodeling itself
and making new copies

a copy
of
a copy
of
a copy

a massive  accumulation of copies
each a slight distortion
from it's original eminence
a history of minute alterations
all subtle deceptions

my so-called reality
a memory
of
a memory
of
a memory
a repetition pouring the self out
self corrupting the self
until it is somebody else

a fibbing shifty double-dealing soft machine
trying to remain intact
it's signature
a disjunctured awareness

my cells talk **** about each other
i'm more microbes than human
every synaptic light of the divine casting a shadowed past
a devil to the true origin
a mangled remembering
my pillar of reality
spirit from matter
not the other way around

i no longer recognize myself
am i human
or perhaps a robot
an alien
a walk in
that left the original inhabitant
disembodied
to wander perplexed in a netherworld
lost and crying

or, just a bad copy
of
a copy
of
a copy
of
a co

py

of

a

a

co
Alyssa Underwood May 2018
"The Struggle for Love"
"The Longing for Home"
So desperate to prove
That our hearts aren't alone

While death looms wherewith
To make dust of our flesh
We seek in a myth
Our souls to enmesh

With a hero of hope
A rescuing source
To widen our scope
And give pith to our course

An unshakable tie
An attachment at core
Which might silence the cry
That our hearts are at war

With a pure set of eyes
Full of fire and proficient
To dispel all the lies
That our souls aren't deficient

But it's not our mere lack
Which causes most dread
It's the earth-shattering fact
That our spirits are dead

Cut off from their Source
In a black alienation
Humanity's curse
For its rank ins'bordination

We just want our own way
And to write our own story
So we plunge on astray
To seek our own glory

To play artist or muse
Or idol or chief
Any self-styled ruse
To assuage us of grief

Any measure to show
A lasting signif'cance
So that someone would know
Our unique magnif'cence

For our beauty's been marred
And we crave a redemption
Of souls twisted and scarred
By fulfillment's exemption

But, alas, we will find
That search hard as we may
There's not one of our kind
Who can carry the tray

Upon which the weight
Of our souls has been laid
For who can e'er tolerate
Its gross debts unpaid?

Such suff'cating mass
Of defects and ills
Pressed 'gainst delicate glass
Of egos and wills

Still more ghastly to bear
Is devotion unbound
For with millstone to wear
Its master is drowned

'Neath a sea of foul yeast
And becomes the enslaved
To a hungering beast
To a worship depraved

For the heart is a tiger
And must have its fill
So it raises a man higher
With a kiss before the ****

Not intentionally, of course,
Does it slaughter its idol
But of hurricane force
Is this longing so vital

And as pedestal turns
So quickly to altar
Our wounded pride burns
When our gods and alms falter

And the fire of its rage
Turns upon its obsession
Tiger breaks out of cage
To reclaim self-possession

It bites and it tears
What it once so adored
And pride no longer cares
If it kills its false lord

But upon such demise
The soul screams in terror
For it's broken its prize
And can't take back its error

It begs and it pleads
To restore what's been lost
But at end knows it needs
To consider the cost

Of the damage untold
It has left in the wake
For hearts can't be controlled
With a gush or a shake

No, men's hearts are like bombs
Which so easily explode
Once the pin is removed
All past wrongs will re-load

So the prey becomes hunter
When the tiger attacks
For he does not want her
To see what he lacks

As he, too, had put
Her up in wrong place
But now steps his foot
Upon her shamed face

To now pulverize
As his own heart's been crushed
To blind out her eyes
And to see her lips hushed

For with words idly spoken
She'd stabbed at his soul
And had left his pride broken
By her judgments so cold

She had not meant to harm
Knew not e'en that he heard
But one cannot disarm
A thought put to word

Worse than not knowing this
She no longer knew him
And her once imagined bliss
Proved a nullified whim

Oh, what games and delusions
We play and we build
Upon empty illusions
And dreams unfulfilled

Yet strangely it's when
Our worst fears come true
We can finally transcend
All those old tales we grew

Out of ego and void
Out of sorrow and pain
When our nerves felt annoyed
And our hearts felt too vain

'Cause when ego is puffed
It is primed, too, to pop
And with pinprick is snuffed
Like a pest-blighted crop

So imagine much more
When a venom's injected
Right into its core
And its heart is rejected

But can you also not see
How it needs such a burst
To begin to get free
From its self-absorbed curse?

Except now feels the matter
Of our soul's isolation
Fiercer still with the shatter
Of our pet consolation

So we wait and we wonder
If we've missed the true meaning
Of the frightening thunder
In our heart's constant screaming

Whether homesick or lost
Whether lonely or grieved
Locked in bleak Winter's frost
We find little reprieve

Yet we know we've been made
For the glory of Spring
Some card's still to be played
Some grand song still to sing

Inexpressible yearning
For some secret we know
But can't speak for the burning
Repercussions of woe

Not some mere melancholy
Nor nostalgic forlorn
Not the musings of folly
But a sense that we're torn

From primordial root
And from headwaters fresh
Yet much deeper to boot
From our spiritual breath

'Tis an ache not for wares,
Appreciation or fame
But a fight just for air
Against strangling shame

For we're naked, we know
And with all we devise
Our most flawed parts still show
To a pure set of eyes

Like we're walking around
With no covering intact
But thin hospital gown
With wide split up the back

So we hide our true face
Aim to be what we're not
Work our blots to erase
Lest our schemes should be caught

Be 't by friend or by foe
We dare not risk the pain
Of humiliation's blow
On top of our stain

But instead of relief
Anguish grows louder till
This life's loneliest grief
Paralyzes the will

And last hope all but dies
On doubt's bed of despair
While embittered heart cries
That its lot's too unfair

Yet on outside we play
Through our unconscious mind
Man's collective charade
That everything's fine

Like some pact we'd all sworn
To uphold and obey
To protect from the scorn
Of society's sway

If we run with the flow
'Stead of strive 'gainst the tide
We might make enough show
To salvage our pride

We forget that conceit
Is what caused all the mess
Through a serpent's deceit
And a couple's wrong guess

'Twas they first tasted shame
And then hid in a garden
Sewing fig leaves as claim
To secure their own pardon

Yet in horror they knew
They had squandered the Prize
And must flee from the view
Of a pure set of eyes

Now same state of awry
Runs through each of their seed
Inborn and borne by
Like the thorniest ****

Whose nettles pierce deep
And infect every part
While roots tangle and sweep
Through the mind and the heart

It mocks what we've lost
Torments every dim hope
To constrict and accost
Like a noose-tightening rope

Still, hope won't be decayed
Smold'ring fires yet burn
Sparking hints that we're made
For bright Eden's return

This redemption we crave
Is no phantom's false plea
But as crestfallen wave
Hides itself in the sea

It's been veiled in plain sight
Big as all of our stories
Deep as mankind's full plight
And as high as its glories

Cloaked in every ambition
That we have to get in
To some exclusive coalition
For its favors to win

Lurks a bleeding predilection
Frustrated from birth
A desire for election
To bestow on us worth

Lured by scent of a promise
To be chosen and known
Like the warmth of a mom's kiss
Given only to her own

We search tree after tree
For sweet intimacy's nectar
From a fruit that will be
Our secret connecter

To hope's nourishing breast
To life's honey from comb
To an undying rest
To a straight way toward home

One to wipe away tears
And allay deepest doubt
Which proceeds from worst fears
Of our being locked out

Of a garden again
Cast from pure tree of life
Dim remembrance of when
Mankind first entered strife

All our conflicts, comp'tition,
Confusion and blame
Find first cause in perdition
That's invaded our frame

Like the foulest disease
The most cankerous rot
Grown by monstrous degrees
Hatched by Lucifer's plot

This story's no ****'s attack
Nor archaic folklore
But the earth-shattering fact
That our hearts are at war

With a pure set of eyes
Full of fire and proficient
To dispel all the lies
That our souls aren't deficient

And it's not our mere lack
which causes most dread
But the earth-shattering fact
That our spirits are dead

Cut off from their Source
In a black alienation
Humanity's curse
For it's rank ins'bordination


And yet...


This is also the story
Of how those same eyes
The Possessor of Glory
Looked with love and heart cries

On the crown of creation
His reflection of Self
Made His own treasured nation
The heirs of His wealth

Now broken and lost
All banished from Garden
And He knew the full cost
To grant them His pardon

Had known long before
He had e'er even made
That first man of yore
Yet handcrafts anyway

For His love is so strong
And He wanted to share
His intimacy with a throng
His own children to bear

So with souls in convulsion
From their rebellious misdeed
Just before their expulsion
He promised a Seed

One untainted from sin
Who could take its great boulder
And the weight of His kin
Upon His own shoulder

A Hero of hope
A rescuing Source
To widen our scope
And give pith to our course

An unshakable tie
An attachment at core
Who would silence the cry
That our hearts are at war

With a pure set of eyes
Full of fire and proficient
To dispel all the lies
That our souls aren't deficient

For those eyes are His own
And He'd pay the full fee
By His body alone
To set our hearts free

He's hope's nourishing breast
He's life's honey from comb
He's our undying rest
He's our straight way toward home

He will wipe away tears
And allay deepest doubt
Which proceeds from worst fears
Of our being locked out

Of the Garden again
Cast from pure Tree of Life
Dim remembrance of when
Mankind first entered strife

But 'twas on another tree
That sweet intimacy's nectar
Was secured tight when He
Became sacred Connector

And the thorns of our curse
Were pressed onto His head
With not one there to nurse
As the Son of Man bled

Then the wrath for our sin
Was absorbed as He cried
And the foul curse was broken
When the Son of God died

But death couldn't keep Him long
Nor His glory dispose
And we found our lost song
When the King of kings rose!

The debt had been paid
He had finished the work
The tide 'gainst us was swayed
We weren't left in our lurk

And we've only to now
Just repent and believe
To open and allow
Our hearts to receive

Our Divine Fountainhead
Our covering complete
To sup from His bread
And to sit at His feet

To worship the One
For Whom we were made
By Whom we've been won
Whom forever we've craved

The One Who can bear
Our hearts' full devotion
The One Who won't tear
At our souls' raw emotion

The One Who will be
Sweet eternity's song
Who with lasting decree
Will...right...every...wrong
~~~

First two lines taken from Timothy Keller sermon titles;
also inspired by his other sermons:
"The Breastplate of Righteousness"
"Blessed Self-Forgetfulness"
"The Sandals of Peace"
"The Wounded Spirit"

~~~

for more on this:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2179517/the-gospel-of-jesus-christ/

~~~
Lizzy Dec 2014
You held my bones together
Kept me all intact.
But now I'm coming unhinged.
My fingers are losing feeling,
Detached from who I am.

My dry tongue,
And teeth falling lose.
Can only make a slapping sound,
No cry for help.

My skin is so lonely
My hips go untouched.
I shiver so quick
I look frost bitten.
But really I'm just cold,
Without a warming touch.

I'm sorry I'm weak,
And can't keep my pace.
But it's all moving so fast
And I'm trying so hard
Not to fall behind.

I'm pushing my legs
As far as they will go.
And I know my slow knees,
Are holding you back.

I can't give you life,
But god, i can try.
To make you feel as deeply,
As fully as me.
I can't promise you much
Because I'm an unpredictable mess.

But I can promise
I'll give you all that I have.
Sacrificing my sanity
To keep yours intact.

My prayers have become
Begging cries.
Begging to god
To keep us alive.

Repenting the sins
I've scared myself for.
I came so close
To recovering my soul.

But you might as well be ******,
Or some other drug.
I itch for you
Return to my veins.
But with every drug
Comes a crash.

A weightless,
Glowing feeling,
When you get the first taste.
But really it's just poison,
Ruining your veins.
I like this
patty m Dec 2014
Mama always told me I had perfect legs,

I had all the extra curves that make them special,

and then there is the teasing innocence

that make men notice.

Dancing kept them that way

and short skirts and crossed legs

became my signature.

How sad Mom was when I took tumbles

worrying if I would scar.

I did Mama, I'm a scarred mess inside

but outside I'm still intact.

Funny how things that seemed important

have become just functional,  All the pirouettes,

en pointes and arabesques merely an exercise to strengthen resolve.

Yet give me a ballroom, a sea of hardwood,

and a hot dress fiery red or magenta,

dance me up close, seductively snaking

through the crowd and I come alive.

Tango me to interaction,

an orchestrated song of lust

then salsa me with Latin rhythms

one knee between mine

wild in rapturous pursuit.

Meltdown, or is it immolation,

the fiery depths your hips ignite

as we coyly rub away the separation

until magic erupts.

When the dance is over, what will you remember?

Oh yeah, the woman who glides so gracefully and dances so hot    

You know the one with pretty legs.
CautiousRain Mar 2016
Dance with me and pay the price,
it's no big deal, the music's nice,
a twirl, a tap, why won't you glide?
I promise not to hurt your pride.

My heels click and stomp about,
your feet intact, without a doubt,
but something cracks, between us both,
a shattered, silent, bond-broken oath.

My smiles full of blind deceit,
your trust denied in fast defeat,
I've grown tired of this masquerade,
now you wish you hadn't stayed?

I can't believe you thought you'd be my match,
that we'd make it out without a scratch,
but jokes on you, and me too,
this was our final dance, so enjoy the view.
You thought you could dance with me, but we weren't even dancing to the same song. No wonder you walked all over me, we could never be in rhythm. We were never dancing the same steps.
False Poets Feb 2018
Human Observations (the woman pees)

if you walk the world with pen and paper
or eclectic electronic devices,
sure as the sunrise espied,
the pen will quick leak
when wearing white
and so will too the
righteous words
righteously,
thereafter

when you can't sleep and you must
slam your sweaty fist into pillow
know that the pillow is
silent thinking, dude,
you really ain't
got a hope, a
prayer

fallen asleep in the soaking tub
a thousand and one times,
ain't never drowned like
the warning ones say I
will do but really when
restless in my rustling
night sleep of no-safety
in my lumpy bed, have
I dream-drowned
a million
times

the woman pees, safe and secure,
comforted by the knowledge
that we have bathrooms
separate, her toilet,
man *** free, tho
we just finished
making sweaty,
fluid swapping
***


she does not, won't put on makeup
in her pj's to take out the garbage,
that is why she keeps loverman,
so handy, nearby, shamelessly
firm, unwavering, good god,
great for one "disposable"
use per night

when you tell your child that you love them,
and they do not reply at all, it isn't that they
don't love ya back, 'tis only that they haven't
learned to love themselves
something that
just cannot be
taught.

the more trinkets I buy her,
more she screams stop,
but never not once
has she said, here,
take it
back

if you don't believe in Faeries and Elusives,
try, for then you have a middling chance
of getting the missing, disappearing
whole sock hiding in her ******,
back, intact

If must look up the time where your
love is currently hiding/residing,
then the probability is more than
1.000, that you no longer love
her enough, or
she, you,
not at
all

you know it is time to shut down,
hang up the pen and close the
iPad cover, surrender, give up
the poetry gig 4 real when
you start to prefer
the autocorrect
suggestion

~
More to follow.
someday.
11/24/13
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