"intruded" poems
The last judgement shall not hold mercy on the servants, but it shall not wrong them in their deeds either, it is the final decision to make,
The end of a long journey which births the desire to see you again,
Your reflection cast on a mirror in a sea of pure lunacy shall clear it all
It will open your heart and reveal all of your sinning impurities cast away by words of falsities, triggered by a simple yet small lie,
Heartfelt dream scapes shape the mirror; In a world so dark that the stars will blind ones sensitive, mortal eyes within seconds to come,
Experience of past events suspend memories from the future's dawn.
I will not show you any sad dreams, I'd like to heal your wounds if you have striven for righteousness and purity such as patience,
If you however have striven for corruption then you should know,
There's unending punishment and darkness awaiting your arrival,
Here we do have unlimitted time after all, unlimited cruelty and fear,
Love comes in misery, ends unexpectedly yet you won't see, will you?
Time ticks on, goes by and follows it's clear path in this devil's world which I am lurking over, ruling, which you have intruded tonight,
Take my hand oh all you pure souls, the love of light is for all to bear!
~ Umi
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 4:19 PM UTC
I had my first baby
When I was still a child myself
I was fifteen
When she intruded my world
The best intrusion
I've ever come across
And from day one
She was " boss"
A baby girl was placed on my heart
I was awe struck and in love
Right from the start
As I looked at her features
The breath of fresh air
I looked at her filling my life
It was no longer bare
I was a child
With a babe in arms
But I chose to love her
And protect her against harm
I grew up beside her
She taught me love and patience
She showed me whole love
And in me she created
A better person
A woman that grew
My little girl beside me
Nothing I couldn't or for her
wouldn't do
She is now fourteen
A different girl to the one I had been
Thankfully .....
She is simply Devine
Everyday of her life
We grew up together
Side by side
I had three other babies
There all beautiful
And my world
But this poem is for
My first baby girl
We fight
Because were passionate
The same fire inside
She lights up this whole world
Because she's to confident to hide
She's my baby girl
From the first moment I held her inside
And each time I look at her
I no she saved my life
........... A small cry ...........
Baby girl
I'll love you till i die
And even then
Ill love you from afar
Because you are
My guiding star x
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 4:53 PM UTC
The pierced ego sees
through an opaque lens;
a vestige of hope,
humor and
intellectual solidarity.
Effigies of forgotten ethos,
the culmination of a
fated dream;
unrequited ardor, abandons
identity to an irreducible
fervor,
subtext of tension,
enduring ****** privation;
etude of a paramour
ending torture,
tasting mystical polarity.
The wounded heart
once intruded,
bleeds effusive;
the ornament of humility.
Flattened collateral
damage,
primal search,
proves illusive;
portals of hurt, slivers
of pride,
assembled fragments of
thereness
absorb the loss
of my English muse.
Poetry and devotion
punctuated murmurs
of piety,
depth perception
virtue unfound;
expectation - access
to suffering;
disinterested love
present,
desultory carnage
of rescission,
absurdity personified;
euphemism
of adieu,
the sound of no sound.
The discarded image
finds no favor,
the salt lost it's savor
unquenched thirst;
desire of
diminished purview,
the saporus stream
deferred;
vision eclipsed;
saturated self
hidden in the text.
Poverty asks the
question,
absence summons
ethereal substance
merged into
the immanent frame;
integrating,
in solitude signifying,
mediating - logos
contested
the humiliation of
the word.
Lyrical enigma,
where did I go?
provisional
personality
scorned,
renouncing nostrums
of the prosaic,
surrenders to the
the realm interior
sovereignty
assumed in
provenience,
native
horizon of the next.
©2008 & 2011 W.S. Warner
Sep 3, 2011
Sep 3, 2011 at 6:11 PM UTC
I remembered today a recent memory repressed.
I recall how my scared mind yelled when it happened,
It is technically in!
Oh my God, it's gone farther!
It's technically not considered ****
it didn't go very far.
But I felt things I've never felt before,
and I've done a lot of things.
If his underwear weren't there,
it would have been ****
But his underwear was there,
still I felt my privacy and lifestyle intruded,
and I still don't know what to call that day.
This was the day he left me.
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 11:57 PM UTC
You intruded in my life
Like a sweet country breeze
Blowing through a hot cold city
Making me remember the sweet innocence possible
before construction begins
on the city -
on the person.
Jul 16, 2011
Jul 16, 2011 at 10:45 PM UTC
As I walked the hills I heard the horns
The stamp of steeds and cry of a hound
I ran towards that iconic call
The hunt was on, I knew the sound
As I watched the fox run and hide
A magnificent creature sleek and fine
The thought intruded upon me
And created an image in my mind
What greater event could I encounter
Of the pursuit of love that I here had
The pursuit of something beautiful
called forth with trumpets and fanfare
Chased by all and caught by few
Tracked and then lost, joy and despair
The chase of the fox
Woman, seductive and coy
Pursued by gross beasts
Determined man and boy
For love like that fox is wily and sly
Catch only a glimpse before it flies by
Sleek and slender a thing of great worth
Pursued by all to bring home to the hearth
For love outside your possession has no value
Home it must reside to bring satisfaction to you
Jul 27, 2022
Jul 27, 2022 at 3:47 PM UTC
Rain is refreshing in a strange, backward way. It shocks you out of a deep, prolific lapse of participation in reality and reminds you that you’re still here. You’re still corporeal, tangible, you can feel and you can decide. But rain is still rain. It can be cold and unpleasant to be faced with, or it can be warm and welcoming. Beconing you forth to splash and smile in the reality you forgot still applied to you.
I left behind the idea of full, around the clock consciousness during my last frigid thunderstorm. I realized, during a session already dedicated to realizations, how exhausting it was trying to live my reality to its current extent. How frustrating and soul-crushing it is to have the ambition you truly believed in and planned to embark upon, forgone by the limits of a situation you have no control over. I kept a small jar of ideas and plans in the very back corner of my closet. They were safe, they couldn’t be taken out back and shot nor could they be taunted and destroyed from the inside out. When I was cornered in my intruded closet, when I was taken by the collar and shaken for my truth, they were found. Both above-mentioned circumstances played out shortly but in the opposite order. That’s when it began to rain.
I decided on an alternative: selective awareness. I keep myself alive only feeling and participating when the rain is tepid and pleasant. When I feel the temperature beginning to drop, I fall back asleep, floating through lull and lash, until the sun comes to change the course of my simulation. For days, all I will see is fog. I’m lost and isolated, but that lack of direction comes with an onset of contentedness. There is no one who can see me wandering through a deluded course I have set for myself. I don’t know where I’m walking, I don’t know what’s in front of me, so the warm rain will give me a pleasant surprise as it melts away the fog and gives me hope for sustainable warmth.
The cloudiness that lingers in my head, even when I’m experiencing kindness and sensitivity, reminds me that my effort to make my reality more livable is as viable as staying completely shrouded in fog until I wander off the edge of a cliff. Eventually, as I age out of my simulation, I’ll have skin thick enough to withstand the hailstorm I’ll be forced to reckon with. Resilience is necessary, but hope exists. I often forget it does while I’m wondering, but serenity and light remind me that fog isn’t all I’ve devolved into. Rain will come, and so will spring.
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 9:39 PM UTC
I’m afraid to let you in
Because you already intruded
I’m afraid to walk hand and hand with you
For as soon as I give you my hand, you’ll drag me in your direction
I’m afraid to let you take the wheel
In fear that you may not give it back
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 12:42 AM UTC
In the twilight hour
We reached the watch tower
The swinging trunks had got our smell
And one could tell
They weren't pleased
We had just intruded into their dust bath
Post the shower at the pool
Between us the distance
Was one of studied silence
Till one's trumpet froze me to the ground
From among the trees
Big little mud hills surrounded the space
Our clicking lens
Wore out their patience
And we were just nuts
Before that large herd
Some more were coming up the river
We heard someone whisper
And I thought of rebellious elephants
Fighting for territory once their own
Against an invader that spares none
What if this dwindling day hour
They crush the watch tower!
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 9:48 AM UTC
I was happy
Before she intruded.
She was probably happy
Before I intruded.
I hoped
They wouldn't commit ******
She probably hopes
We wouldn't commit to a relationship.
I wished
To separate them.
She probably wishes
To separate us.
I wanted her
Out of the picture.
She probably wants me
Out of the picture.
Then, would all
Return to normal
If she left?
No, all would probably
Return to normal
If I left.
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 2:35 AM UTC
Quick metallic stings swayed your path.
Unkept morals led to misplaced wrath.
Intruded life saving soul, savagely subdued.
Nuetralic coexistence henceforth removed.
Notable soul's transition painstakingly ensued.
Relinquish the angered regret your soul may churn.
Instead focus on those who's hearts passionately burn.
Place your soul with those who now lovingly wait their turn.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 2:48 PM UTC
We rode to Ta’if on a flying carpet
— a Toyota with a missing hubcap
sweeping through fattened clouds
which clung to the hilltops like grazing bison
arriving on the otherworldly plateau that wore
the death shroud of an old hermit’s mystery
which our Prophet reached in sandals as ******
as the deck of a Nantucket whaling ship
Arabian Himalayas. He climbed like a yak
and the Lord strengthened his steps
Our taxi driver — as lost as the cheque in the mail —
poked at his satnav and called his mates
The Almighty’s beloved followed the angel and
never lost his way. He strained with pain
Our driver’s mirrored eyes intruded while we
held hands on the back seat and yawned
The Lord smiled down upon his aching friend
and eased the pain in cramping calves
A sagging mosque now hunches where the ignorant
had cast away the chance of a lifetime
Oh think if they had taken him in — Medina
would sit as a happy king on a mountain throne
I immortalised my love in a photo in that mosque
praying as a saint where our hero had struggled
I adore my captured shaikha and the memory
of when we followed in the footsteps of our Prophet
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 1:12 PM UTC
The darkest fields, an interlude
to parallel sparkling, suspended
watching eye upon vermilion sky --
like a harbored god pretended.
Killing trees, roots eating deep,
my father mercilessly alluded:
branches high and branches wide
found the sky and intruded.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 5:01 PM UTC
There were happy times while at Home, where the sun
Licked the rims of our glasses and sent wayward strands of light
Streaking across an almost-empty tabletop,
Save for a slight shifting of sand in the only hourglass
I would ever need to own.
There were sad times too, don't forget
Like whenever the storms intruded on our mid-afternoon slumbers
And sent our dreams flying in a saturated mess of
Unfinished riverboat cruises and superhero simulations;
Underneath it all, though, it became impossible not to try it again.
We're going to return here someday, paying close attention to
A world that had preserved itself for the sake of preservation
A life that had spent its last weekends alone on the edge of the sea
Where everything within it collected and became a mosaic of
Saturated dreams and hourglasses cut in two -
Sand mixing with sand.
Apr 4, 2011
Apr 4, 2011 at 12:03 PM UTC
As I sit in silence, so crystal and serene,
I knew at that very moment, I was only in a dream.
The texture was too sticky, the contrast not quite right,
I have to force myself into the breaking of the light.
The place not bound simple movement or defined by restricted equations,
But the purest forms of love, found only in true elation.
I take a draw of haze, to batter my frustrations,
I begin to realize, anger is only a manifestation.
Of aspects taken to heart, in the mornings aspirations,
Were merely broken dreams in a morbid mental ************
But I take no solace, no entertaining rapport,
In the blinded manipulations that were intruded on the floor.
It is not the isolation of a soul too old for its line,
It is lost in the constant segregation of a love forgotten in time.
Now I witness the horror, before the breaking of the light,
my love is just a memory, in clichéic hematite.
Or is it too much for this world, this reality, this dimension.....maybe I am...another universal contradiction.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 11:40 PM UTC
I decided that it was time.
It’s as simple as that
just closed my eyes.
It was dark.
The thoughts that intruded
seemed but a hum
just closed my mind
it was strange.
With full conviction
I walked out of myself.
just around my room
until I was ready.
The dream had begun
the halls flicked with mist
I inched in anticipation
to the front door.
The door revealed
or was it my mind?
A purple world
my coloured canvas.
I chose to make the sun rise
but found it to dim
so I rose another, his brother
and exploded him.
The light shattered me
my heart in awe
Knowing without a doubt
I created what I saw.
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 12:51 AM UTC
Down the lane under the trees
Reaching the latch first, lifted it carefully and quietly not to
Disturb the reverie of the place but he and it was always a he
Came barking and bouncing full pace to see who intruded
No bigger then a foot high, like a bundle of curled white wire
He protestested.
Waiting for a retreat, seduced by his water bowl
Finally peace was restored.
Some days he was out on his walks.
Then the garden lit up without fire.
And we two children were the ones running wild.
Love Mary x
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 2:22 PM UTC
it was not so long ago
you were showing me
that burned out stage
by the river where the
hobos had set up camp, with
their **** magazines
and other treasures.
hat day, we were becoming
the intruders as opposed
to the intruded.
we had come there, though,
for a purpose that i know so
well but can't seem to recall.
i know we had both made up
our minds about, at least,
one thing.
i remember agreeing with
everything you said when
you stopped smoking.
i remember saying the
same thing when you
stopped stopping.
i remember you said you
would visit sometime
during the summer.
when summer came,
and you didn't, i stopped
stopping or something.
and kept smoking.
i was thinking to you
in my head, "now you,
too, are gone." and i
secretly, still, hope
you understand it now
like you did
back then.
understand.
when we left the stage,
one of us said something
about the hobos
understanding
our curiosity.
i'm not sure
either one of us
has gotten
over it.
Sep 14, 2011
Sep 14, 2011 at 6:41 PM UTC
behind the shadow
he follows
the thief girl
she didn't notice
—of course
she was afraid of dark
—at first
and the day came;
the tanks were everywhere,
airplanes high in the air,
people were running,
and she was hidding;
in the shadow,
where there's no light
it was the time they finally met
so he asked her
how was out there beyond the light
she answered
it was bad
he shakes his head
that's not the answer-
describe it with your own words,
describe it like it is your eyes who speaks.
—he asked for the second time
his eyes are full of curiousity
her mind wonder to the event she saw just then
the flash was everywhere—
—she begin
dark water covered the ground—
—she continues
it was all chaotic and awful—
—then she told him all the stories
soon the loud sound intruded them
her eyes turns so dull
she fell lifelessly
he then saw the red flash on the ground
—so he run
he was no longer bound to the shadow,
he doesn't even know how
and soon he realise there's no more place to hide,
neither in the light nor in the dark
there's no more safe place
and he run;
now he's the guy with no shadow
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 9:19 AM UTC
*Continuation of Life is Just a Metaphor and The Lone Wolf*
The wolf howls,
A piercing sound
And yet there is a note,
A note of happiness;
The wolf is rejoicing
For he is no longer in despair.
After moons upon moons,
The lone wolf
Found a pack mate.
Another wolf
Just as lost and alone,
Another searching,
Searching for a pack,
For acceptance.
Finding another
To join the foreign pack,
Helped to ease the tension
Built up in the pack,
The pack the lone wolf
Intruded, forced himself into.
The unwilling acceptance,
From the pack,
Of the lone wolf,
Gradually becomes
A shakey understanding,
Developing into trust.
With the help of his new friend,
The not-so-lone-wolf
Is finally allowed
To be part of the pack.
Every day he thinks of his old pack.
Remembering those gone,
But rejoicing at his new family.
No longer alone,
The wolf howls
His angelic sound
Along with his pack
As a hunt begins.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC
Last night I had to cut open a body.
The cadaver begged me not to
But
There's some days I don't understand Even the whimpers of a corpse.
Its high pitched yelp was drowned out by the comedy playing in the background.
The smooth blade intruded the skin.
I saw a tear drop roll from its decaying eye;
I wish I'd wiped it away.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 1:08 PM UTC
Once I noticed a great writer, and he had no comments.
To remedy this occluded justice,
I left a colorful comment upon one of his best.
Immediately a scathing message appeared from him,
Though he had never messaged me before;
I had an instant moment of understanding
Of why he had no comments; it was just too obvious
For my childlike mind to have avoided the trap.
A few more condescending messages,
And I deleted the comment; nothing more needed saying.
I had trespassed on hallowed ground,
I had merely to retrace my steps
And all should be forgiven.
I intruded upon your life, which I could never really see,
Through a series of locks and channels
It remained invisible to me.
And again I invaded privacy, caused consternation.
Compliant, I withdrew all my excursions to your door
And with an effort, I mitigated any unhappy
Emotions remaining there.
I do this to spare everyone more pain.
But it comes at a price.
Did you ever wonder how all the people
Who go to the grocery store on Sunday mornings
Could have such well-defined niche lives?
They think they are defined by what they do,
By a synthetic order that's tacked over the hours of freedom.
There is an affliction, in which every single hour
Must be made to account for itself.
But what if they woke up some day
Before the grocery shopping was done,
Would they feel they had missed out on something
Inestimable and uncommon; worth sleeping in for-
And replaced it merely with something
Utilitarian and predictable?
Be careful what you trade your Sunday mornings for.
Jul 25, 2010
Jul 25, 2010 at 6:20 AM UTC
i made love to myself
on the bed where
we used to sleep
next to each other
just last summer
at first,
to get myself off,
i imagined random men and women in my life
pushing against me
pleasing me
Then,
your face
and your body
intruded into my soft and vulnerable mind
and my moans
quickly turned into
very different sounds
and I felt tears in my eyes
I started to sob
my body grew limp
and i exhaled, pulling out of myself
turning onto my side, pulling the blankets over my body
the makeup from last night running into my eyes
I sobbed
because you are more beautiful
than i
and although months
(which felt like years)
have gone by
I still miss you
like we said goodbye
only yesterday
and my fingers
are ugly and sharp
compared to your
gentle slender ********** hands.
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 2:45 PM UTC
Stomach Churning Mankind, Dizzy spells over the Human Race.
I question and turn, "the top of the food chain."
Creators of technology, bringers of pain.
Yet I see small weakening cracks all over their face.
Attention seekers, stalkers and unwanted love,
psychologically misguided, socially excluded.
small secrets and whispers, where one always intruded;
gossip carried into the skies, like feathers light, above.
Ripping at one's defined thought, ruining it with paranoia,
Pushing one's life aside, focusing on obsession,
Wishing nothing but a pair of eyes, some sort of detection;
a heart leading nowhere, lips quivering with question.
Women are 'weak' men are 'pathetic'
children barely bear name aside ignorance.
teenagers with morality that is of absence.
And the old are useless, eyes bearing something synthetic.
I sit here and give myself every insult; I belong to the Genus.
I feel feebleness grip my heart, that is when purpose diminishes.
I question if old power was real; Caesar, and Dominus!
And I realize, "Every story can be made," And that is where thought finishes.
- N.C
Aug 6, 2010
Aug 6, 2010 at 7:09 AM UTC