"intented" poems
After reading my first love poem
And misunderstanding my first love story
Romanticizing your bleak hope
I knew I was ******
And in trying to explain this
I am left feeling like a schizophrenic Walt Whitman
Scrawling poems about your beauty
As if love is something you can actually seek outside yourself
While inside you there are walls
Mine fields
Trapdoors leading to deadfalls
All to keep you from it
I want to stand at the entrance to myself
And be baptized in my own sweat
From the work of this deconstruction
There is heaven and peace in the rubble
Blueprints for a home without safeguards
A simple place you can rest your head at night
This chest
Love is not something you seek
But you tell that to these hands
This pen
This mouth
Tell these eyes without losing my gaze
That it is not hiding somewhere behind you
It is not
I know this now
I know that love is this
Your heart is this
Your body is this
A spare room in a small house
You had intented on living alone in
And everytime someone comes to your door
Know it is always nicer inside
And be grateful that someone came to it
Let them in with your smile
say
"I have been expecting you"
Then let them leave if that is what they must do
They might
Just remember to be grateful for their presence
Everyone who sought your door
Sought it because there is something good there
There is always you
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 5:07 PM UTC
I Am Four, Two pairs of Two Indivisible Parts.
My Four is a union between two separate Cores, Each Core is a pair, complete in Function, Merging Components, creating my Four.
There are times of Intented Separation, When my Four becomes Two, One Pair remains, Gone is the Other, they leave to Explore.
Of their Curious Adventures, the Two again return, becoming entwined, amalgamation of Four.
These Souljourn Passages, I deem very necessary, so much to Know, Eternity to See, along the Wilds of Creation, many Creatures yet to Meet.
Every Single piece of plenary Sensation Does Beg to offer my pair to share with my Two, Lingering Two.
Upon the Reunion of Four, the sharing expands of my being, filling Space of my Mind, Enbrazen my Body, Embellishment of Soul.
Communion is a Blessing, a Commitment, as my Promise.
My very own Sacred Ceremony, A Priveldge to Grow, to Seek to Be Whole.
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May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 10:21 PM UTC
Just a warning if you intented to love
a poet with a blood of ink and words
flowing in our veins..
Your eyes can be our saving grace
that will lead us to a better place
Through our eyes you are beautiful as Aphrodite but wild and powerful as medusa making us feel petrified by your beauty
Every details on your face is worth every letters, every ink and every thoughts
In our world you are immortal, and you'll live forever and ever with the poems we stained in your skin cause our poems must find their way home and and that home is you.
But
For us love can be poisonous too
all your words against us is like ink spilled on blank page it's a mess and silly thing. And I promise you later on your soul with be longing and searching for something that you can't undo. You know why?
Cause we leave mark under your skin it was all pure all the passionate kisses, of how your body shifted reminiscing our skin to skin connection, those magical moments that I'll forever be treasure.
Feb 9, 2020
Feb 9, 2020 at 7:43 AM UTC
Resentment turns into acceptance, the moment you realize that they never intented to hurt you.
May 8, 2020
May 8, 2020 at 10:50 AM UTC
Life and Love.
Defense and Attack.
Boys wear Pants whilst Girls wear Slacks.
Students study, as they do, so they say
By the their own Proud Youth - yet reek with Respect
And Worthiness to other People and the Like.
These are the Roles - Tasks and Obligations
Which every Individual does in order to strike
The Goal intented.
As the World rivets by,
And Beggars moan for Alms,
Every person has some Role day-by-day;
Singing Psalms,
Thanking God for the Gifts gratefully given.
But as I say, as we are aware
That each of us has Roles different from
The others.
Specific, as what we call them makes
Us Special in some way.
We gain Originality - Uniqueness - the Factor
Of one Good Kindness
But is not the Perfect Role - no more, no less.
And so we Search, by-and-by
Even with the Onions we consume which
Makes us Cry.
Soon, we began to love Victory and notice
A certain Title which makes a Sick Story:
"THE PEOPLE THEMSELVES; BEST BY WAY."
And began to scan the Multitude,
Wondering what they could mean.
The People, everywhere floating around us like
Fish,
Being noticed that Something in themselves
Create a Tinge of Belief.
BELIEF! That's it! Belief in one's self -
The most Perfect Role of all!
With it, we Feed our World with such Classical Rhythms
That sheds a little Light for this World of ours
To be kept and treasured forevermore.
If everyone has Originality, they are more
Respected, when it comes to a Serious Society.
Furthermore, one makes use of his Gifts
Given by the Lord. And it is our Duty to Follow it.
And we will - for we Believe that to follow the Perfect Role
Leads to a Perfect Life.
At least, such is what I Think.
Of course, I could be Wrong.
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 3:20 PM UTC