"lifespans" poems
have you once
thought about
whether or not
moths ever feel
afraid
of getting burned
by the light
they always
and forever
long to chase?
don't you think
they stop
for even a second
to deliberate
about it?
or maybe
to them
and their short life
it was worth it?
hey,
did you consider
that maybe
it's why the have
such short lifespans?
perhaps in the lenses of
miniscule eyes
of ephemeral dismal colors
in this infinite world
the warmth
of flames
are all they live for?
i don't know...
maybe that's why
we humans live longer?
we,
or at least some of us
have the mind enough
to say that
"this is the
"closest"
"i'll ever be'
"to the sun"
before we all turn into ashes.
Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 7:12 PM UTC
**This poem can be heard as a
Spoken word (read by me)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=
IoAeA6nYH5A**
There are some who fool around
With human DNA
They say it's a progessive step
For the world today.
The deciphered human genome
Is a plaything in their hands
Just a toy to then employ
And change the state of man.
"Change your child's DNA!
He's strong as a horse!
He can be, and he can see
Like a hawk, of course!"
Just like in the movies
They've conditioned us for that.
Vampires and werewolves
And woman morphed to cat!
We can all be cyborgs!
Robotic legs and things!
We can be like Batman
But with automated wings!
Let's just look at Genesis
Look at chapter 6
Those beast/man Nephilim
Did actually exist!
The Watchers came and mated
With human women fair
The Sons of God were demons,
So we'd best have a care!
God had to drown the demon-spawn
To save the human race
The waters flooded over them
And there was not a trace.
Now God found Noah perfect
For he had a pure bloodline
There was in him no change
From God's original design.
Now, folks, what will happen
When human beings aspire
To be like animals yet again?
This time there'll be FIRE!!!
What about our tender hearts?
Do they matter anymore?
The world's consumed with evil
You'd best know what's in store.
When we're no longer human
But have a cyborg mind
Will mankind ever be the same?
Godly? Loving? KIND?
Humans enslaved for weakness
Do you find that odd?
We will be a "Super Race"
Usurp the Will of God.
Will there be salvation?
Or will it be too late?
When men go and take the role
Of the God they hate?
Be glad that God loves us!
For we were made like Him.
He wants to take us from this place!
He wants us to WIN!!!
Is this all science fiction?
Watch the news! It's PLANNED!
Babies being altered
To unnatural lifespans!
Because of overweening pride
We mess with things divine
Enter human suffering -
EXIT HUMANKIND.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 1:20 AM UTC
Depression isn't a black cloud.
That cliche implies that eventually there'll be a torrential downpour,
And then the cloud will fade away and allow
The sun to shine through, ending that terrible storm.
Depression is a starless night.
An expanse of black where even the stars have abandoned you,
Long since dead, and you try to make sense of the loneliness
In a world where people have turned into zombies.
Thoughtless, repetitive phrases become their instincts.
"Think positively," is the mantra of the dead to the dying.
As though statements turn into directions when the sun goes down,
Like signposts leading us to a brightly-lit land.
But the sky doesn't respond to artificial lights,
And nothing but time can force the sun to return.
Their second statement, under the facade of help,
Is to remind us that day will always follow night,
And no matter how starless and eternal the darkness feels,
The sun will eventually break through the horizon, waving pinks and oranges.
Sadly, not all lifespans are created equal,
And for the many colourful transitions people have seen in the sky,
There are plenty who never see more than black.
Some souls are born at dusk and are dead by pre-dawn,
Never having lived through anything but darkness.
And to the zombies, accepting that fact is the hardest.
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 7:13 PM UTC
Cars and gasoline and traffic,
Weddings, birthdays, and funerals,
The days, the months, the years.
Failures, mistakes,
Accomplishments, burden.
Life wears thin
as time gains substance.
Lifespans measured through the good and the bad days,
All a distant memory in the end.
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 8:28 PM UTC
I want everything to be perfect
Not out of people
But everything else
Like $20 per hour jobs at entry level
Always stable economies
Always safe retirement money
Always bright futures
Drugs that don't harm your health
Police who save people instead of aressting them
Technology already at the highest level
Diseases completely eradicated
Long lifespans for everyone
I sound insane, but my wants are very plain when I write them out.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 9:39 PM UTC
She sits in a cracked vinyl chair
in a room full of octogenarians,
as gunsmoke plays quietly
in the background-
James Arness is saying something
about the only woman
he's ever loved.
She digs her fingernails
into her palms and stares
at the floor with its repeating
faded patterns.
She doesn't belong here,
matching pain and numbness
to lifespans triple her own.
The nurse calls her name
and she stands so slowly,
bones creaking, wavering slightly
as she waits for the fog to clear.
She pads softly down the dim hall
and they leave her in a quiet room,
quite alone.
The doctor calls her a pretty young thing,
asks her what she is doing here.
He gives no answers,
only more medications
and a sticky sweet smile
meant to placate.
She walks away into the sunlight
and a song plays on repeat in her head:
I Know it's Over.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 5:57 PM UTC
In the cold weather,
In a cold hospital,
In a cold room,
In a cold bed,
The dying warmth of a young one,
Plagues the thoughts of her mother.
In her little arm,
A needle that pushes,
Life,
Into the dying body,
Struggles to do its job.
Beep, beep.
The monitor screeches,
Loud enough to deepen
The sorrows and the worries.
The little girl,
Once so lovely,
Now so pale and fleeting,
The clutches of the world lose their grasp on her.
The girl’s mother looks at her fading livelihood,
Dying countenance,
The fading fire in her wistful eyes,
As she looks outside,
At the rain and clouds.
She frowns at the droplets,
That fall from the sky,
So fast and out of sight,
They crash on the ground,
And end their lifespans.
The mother, regarding
The dying girl’s face, says,
Don’t look out there, sweetie,
It’ll make you sad.
The little girl frowns,
Because she knows she’s already been drained
Of all of her vigor and intensity.
Languidly she looks at her mother,
Opens her mouth and says,
Will it be sunny tomorrow, mommy?
The woman simply frowns
As tears rush down her face.
Wiping them off, her voice cracks.
She struggles to smile and says,
Yes, it’ll be sunny tomorrow, honey,
And you’ll get to see it.
With a struggling face,
The girl smiles.
How can you know, mommy?
Because mommy knows best, sweetie.
The next day, after a rainy night,
The sun peeks out of the darkened clouds,
And shines on the girl’s lifeless body.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 6:33 PM UTC
"I think this is a poem you wrote on my phone (or it is something I wrote). I can't remember. It is from a time period when we were in the desert and both had working phones." - Sarah
Martin's musings
If you thought you had met the love of your life- what would you do? The heat is up our chills up and down, and the faces the old women make in drug-induced ticks, heavy noisome smells mixed with the best greatest sweetest smelling true love you've ever known.
And five times a day now you spend hours and hours entwined and touching and being touched by the greatest and softest skin cells your skin has ever been against

And with perfervid excitednees, a cold chest, but tepid limbs, you avoid blinking to extend the lifespans of us both.
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 9:05 PM UTC
Black wings shoot through the sky
1000 lifespans of smooth power
And then
The fall
Black wings cascade to the gritty cement
Feathers of darkness
Envelope
A solid body
Staggering forward
The orange lights stinginess crushing down
Reaching forward
Long nails clawing at smooth brick walls
Brick walls covered in **** and human filth
The wings climb forward
Reaching forward
Gripping the dusk
Holding onto the new day
Grasping the new feelings
The new concepts
The same world
The same body
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 3:56 PM UTC
Like a ghost
I'll pass by the lives
Of all I've ever known
Breathing fire
In your memories
Like a garden that
Will never grow
Like a passerby
I'm passing through
Lifespans of time
Spending years
Drowning in emotions
That are still burning
Still alive
It's so hard
To stay settled
When cursed
With a travelers mind
But my ghost
Will always be there
To comfort
The nostalgic nights
Forever in my heart
If not forever
In my sight
Because we all
Must learn to move
And grow
And leave love
Behind
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 9:45 PM UTC
Stoic as I stare,
Into the limitless abyss
Encompassing our limited lifespans.
Incomprehensible: The amount which I will forever be unable to comprehend.
Knowledge: unobtainable and forbidden.
And Sun, moon, and stars,
you vain celestial bodies,
Cursed to far longer an egotistical existence than mine own span,
you are but vapor.
With this cogitation, I might face death with sheer tenacity,
I shall stare him in the face and claim I am not afraid
For all die one day.
And still I tremble.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 6:13 PM UTC
I expected pain. More memorable than a dull discomfort in the chest. I knew that I would have to purge you, and I expected some fever dreams. I had one about my ashes being carried to you through the air.
Eyes open, aware of the demise I constructed. There was a toughness, a crispness around the edges of my love.
But I didn't know that you could lacerate lifespans into a fraction. My suffering was emancipated and given the greater field to run through. I didn't know that my lust would drive me to lunacy. I didn't know that you would become a vice. I was promised the comfort of satiation, I didn't know that I would become primal for it. I didn't know that I would search for you in the bottom of every bottle, every swirl of wine that I smell.
I didn't know that the tick of midnight would hit differently. The spaces that you didn't occupy torment me more than the ones that held your presence. I expected you to reshape my inner aspects, and give me the most excruciating ******* I didn't know that you would close your fingers around my waist and inject poison into the hot pink. Not once did I imagine any children of yours that I would volunteer to exorcise over and over.
A mental, chemical stripping of the facade, I anticipated. But there was still physiological agony when you released my airway. When my body would catch the breaths that I tried to reject. I didn't know that you would hold me up to the Sun to show me that it's not God after all. I expected pain. But not a pain that would determine my price.
Jul 30, 2019
Jul 30, 2019 at 7:01 PM UTC
My lifespans is a duvet
(come, cuddle close), to share
And the pillows are our heartbeats
to uphold our star-crossed stare
Under the duvet is my body:
my lips, your sole supporters
I'll throw you words (with love, of course)
so please kiss these pink performers
And then my neck, my ******* my stomach
where you shall witness loving need
As I clutch close, (both you and then)
the fruit of both our seeds
From there, my thighs, knees and calves
long and curved (around your own)
These legs shall keep me sprinting
you in my arms, bound home
My arms caress your form
and my fingers brush your skin
Inked tattoos of heat and presence
my existence (you wrapped in)
Finally, I show my feet
planted firm, against your toes
And I tiptoe up, within our bed
to come close (nose to nose)
And I whisper "love", arms wrapped around
(to keep you from falling through)
"I can't help but feel, within my soul
that my universe is in you"
And you gather me up, the entire quilt
(cupped in your hands, warm as your breath)
And you smile down, with shimmered eyes
and say: "together until death"
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 7:07 AM UTC