Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
carminayasmin Apr 2018
I listen to them as they mouth your name;
and I see
how deluded,
how hypnotic,
how enchanted and consumed
they talk of your ways and,
how the stars in their pupils beam with a radiance of such pure awe.
Your words hang loose off the tops of their tounges and their lips drool in your glaze.
Your lazy features,  your so electric but so infuriating charm -
sends them mindless, locks them in your illusion.


So it’s then

I try to burn every
sheet of paper which ink prints your presence,
inside these desperate  shelves which fold upon each heartstring.

My ears attempt to block it out.
Instead they replay every song
that has ever left your lips.
And my eyes deceive me as they scatter
a particle of you on every surface of life I encounter.

My mind echoes every laugh you created in my streams.

Then I paint every colour you ever erupted within me,
in thick black.

As they mouth your name,
every trace of you with anyone but me,
causes my hands to pull through my gut,
and hammer down any of these ******* deceptive daydreams
that you have me  trapped me in.

And then so easily, one by one,
debris of my heart crumble like rain
down your window,
down each vein.
1 March 17:03
look at them all
Butch Decatoria Jun 2018
(The sound of breathing)

I am the air / unseen
a breath
underneath
                  the rush
                  the coffee
                  the traffic
on concrete streets

I am lifting the dirt
                  the grime
                   the dust
polluting us
I am adding wings
to the speed of your feet
to where your dreams may meet

I am the sigh
in your quivering lungs
inside your heart
                  such self defeat
when you concede to its
deceit / disease / cease to breathe
never to notice me
or listen to our song
Time’s
Wind chimes
a summer's relief / a breeze
strides along
cooling your face from the heat

Do not say you blame it all on me

Don't say I'm the purpose
                    the reason
or                  the space between
Wound of flesh, lips compulsive kiss
The mindless lies
Loss of will
between the heart & the eyes
unable and refusing to see
It’s why our love
retreats

Dagger / plunged
the deathblow
a quick hands woes

A heartless man goes
so neat and clean
so discreet
hiding in the bleak
uncaring

so...

I am the air
   you never notice me
touching
           your sorrow
            your skin
yet never being / your glee
invisible
that is how despair begins

I am the air / unseen
waiting for you to care
                        to notice
                         to open eyes, see!

I am the air, here / with you
a friend that is always
there

invisible
waiting to be / seen.

do you notice me?

(The sound of breathing)

A heart is beating.
Lub Dub Lub Dub

Did you notice
The life we misbelieve …
Us
The invisible
Unbecoming
Unloved
Edit repost
L B Oct 2016
This room—not his
nor the house, the yard
Though a placard bares his name
it slides out
at a moment’s notice
when the waiting ends
when his old hand stops—
twirling, mindless against the loving quilt

This house-- the same
but different
from a distance
He should be sitting in this still life
an old Sachem
on his lawn chair

This garage—where I stand
still his, strangely

Patient tools
Cherry Chevrolet wait
with work gloves resting...
Cannot bring myself to touch
where his hands last laid them
As if to move a thing
would **** the matrix of the man

His moment rushing toward me....

I can hear their whispers now
Leaves, once forbidden
have gathered in his absence
tangled in his hedges
nestled by the stairs
Chattering together—

“Man with the rake—no longer comes”
My father was not someone I could sit with to have a conversation.  That would be like heading into a storm.  I watched him and admired him from a distance.  I didn't truly appreciated him until he was the old man of this poem, sitting in the Soldier's Home, remembering fishing in the Connecticut River and longing to be hiking in the mountains above it.
Sachem is the word for chief or strong man from the northeastern American Abenaki tribes.
Austin Morrison Jan 2017
Finding a reason to live is harder than finding a needle in a hay field. You don't quite where to look but you know what you are looking for is out there. Your hands and knees will get ****** from searching, and at times you might feel like giving up. but when you finally see that this piece of metal shine you will get the most forgiving sense of relief. Like everything you have had to worry about is just gone. When I first saw you the sun reflected off your eyes and there was the most beautiful sparkle I have ever seen in my life. I found what was to be the smallest needle in the hay field we call earth. And all the pain and suffering I tried to cover up with cheap perfume and mindless lust was replaced with the smell of freshly bloomed roses and passion. You were the girl that gave me a reason to live, to love and to see how beautiful this world can be. You made me remember why I am alive.
This is my first write in over almost two years. I know it's bad but there is someone I love to much not to write about them.
Tyler Harper Feb 14
Where's the line?
The line between joke and reality.

For are these jokes,
these mindless taunts

benign or malignant?
A tumor of insecurity

Ever growing

But where ever this line may be
I see frailty

Crooked
Cracked
Caved

And there I could stand
With joke in hand:
Wherever would it land?
Jessie A Mar 2017
I can't help myself!
I keep falling into the same hole that I dug,
Being stupid as if I were a mindless little bug.
I say I'm not going to make the same mistake again,
Because I'm tired of living a life that's full of sin.
I can't help myself!
The temptations are way too much,
My temptations are addicting like the softness of a touch.
I can't help myself!
Sometimes I cry because of the person  that I am,
It's like the devil keeps selling me the same  old scam.
I keep falling for it over and over,
All the devil has to say is roll over.
I can't help myself!
I know I'm young and I'll make mistakes,
But one mistake is all that it takes.
One mindless decision could ruin my life,
The decision that makes me choose a life or a knife.
I can't help myself!
I try to crawl up the hole,
But it's like I lost my soul.
Sometimes I do things and I don't care,
There's a  feeling of numbness that no one can repair.
I can't help myself!
It's crazy what temptations will do,
Making you feel like it will always be apart of you.
It's like I can't say no,
It's throwing me over and over again in the same hole.
I can't help myself...
Harley Oliver Jul 2014
you were suppose to be a stranger,
just a half second interferer
mindless and dry
with each blinking moment
that passed me by
i was unknowingly losing a useful hand
deemed worthy of something other
than the thought that
you were suppose to stay just a stranger
and if i could turn you back, i swear i would
but it feels like i've always wanted you
from the unspoken second
i felt our destiny
when our eyes crossed path
in the midst of fall, telling you to
please slip away and take my unreasoning desire, i'm not use to never having what i want
November 2, 2013
Andrew Sep 2017
All comforts we create
Can't compare to the womb
All our fears of fate
Drive us toward the tomb
They cut the umbilical cord
They way I cut my phone cord
Leaving me alone and torn
Wishing I could curl up in a curl
And experience comfort from the world
Where people pay with change
Because they have no money
And people pay with rain
Because they have no honey

I've seen the chaos of fire
And the serenity of water
And the steam that rises when they're combined
The wet ashes of love mix into a thick cement
And become the heart's hardened womb
The heart's hellish hatred blooms
From within the darkness
Bringing us hardships

When my brain is in my eyes
It brings discomfort in disguise
Like the discomfort when I lie
And say I don't give a **** about what others think
Mentally I have become fetal
Yet I'm trying to sound regal
The illusion of indifference
Protects me from conversation
Like the womb or the tomb
And the broom is the tool
That sweeps dirt up under the rug
When my heartstrings begin to tug
The womb is the only place clean and snug

In a world where people become mindless weapons
The womb becomes a pistol
Blasting bullets into the Earth
We save our solidarity
For the moments when massive amounts of people die
And the bar seems to keep rising
And we forget the importance of one
Until we are hit personally
And look down to see blood from multiple wounds
The result of gunshots fired by multiple wombs
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
Honest,

that meaningless word left dangling before children,

a damoclean sword held fast in a gordian knot tied with scarlet thread,

finer than the spider's that once tied men's souls to an angry American God,

birthed in Transylvania,

over the woods, and through the dale, no lie

There is a tale of lies told in Nobel houses, never reachin' ground,

Down here, we situations manifested to, vain, again, stem the tide,

We flounder, fish out of water, why are we sent if

wait



he hears, he listens, haps he knows, and

how such as we came

to be here,

Welcome and see, dare ye ask me in? Might I ply you with lies

and you, believe 'em?

I could make a mindless robot out of your parts, but

that would take forever and

that's not how

Wisdom's child would tend to be, for first,

You must believe a lie and I, amusing as can be,

can't tell lies.

Discernment, fine points, per-spicacity per se, the only way.

Good luck (Luc, said luck in many tongues, is said Lose- as in Luc-ifer.

It means light, as in light, regular old granted light.)

Lightifier, good, take some, good light, for the travail, in the night.



You see, not so long ago, for me, five years before I'as born,

my momma moved to town.



What was that like, I axed my old uncle, while back,

movin' t'town, in 1943?

Well, he says,

We had electricity.



USA, 1943, some folks still was poor, and all the good men

was gone to war.

Cities, it was different,

if the movies got it right, Bowry Boys, n'em.



In the desert we did, okeh, in town, though,



we had electricity.



He was ten back then. He'd been huntin' rabbit's,

to buy Christmas presents from Sears and Roebucks,



since he was five.

C'mon, I say. No lie, he say,

BLM or some gover'ment

whatsajigger, was payin' 2 cents a pair fer jack rabbit ears.



'Said he bought Christmas presents for his mom and dad,

and my mom, with his first rabbit money, at five.



Shootin' with a single-shot 22, 12 cents a box,

Jack Rabbits, 2 cents a head.



Three Christmas presents, plus postage, $2.56.

Do the math, I think, and go -



Five years old, at ten, he moves to town, 1943,

we had electricity. That's all.
An older man than me gave a thought to ponder. Thought I'd try to share the bounty. This is read, by me at http://anchor.fm/ken-pepiton
jonni inferno Feb 2017
behold
mine guilt be carved
'pon this furrowed brow
plainly writ
for all to see

i pray thee now
speak softly
fair an' sweet
an' brook no lie
to pass thine ruby lips
those serpent fangs
venom filled
'twould pierce an'
wi' their poison still
this wounded heart
that lay bleeding
lost an' dreaming
far beneath...

where mid-night forest
darkly flows
this raging torrent
swiftly feeds
black rivers
writhing coldly
thru my soul

as faceless voices
darkly speak
urging chaos
mindless screams
nightshades tearing
rending eat
the broken pieces
of this wounded heart
that lay bleeding
lost an' dreaming
far beneath...

where the sun
is but a myth
deep within this
dark abyss
an' the moon
faithless
fades
from memory

alas
speak softly
fair an' sweet
release me from
this dark abyss
that lay bleeding
lost an' dreaming
at thy feet
.
.
Pic Poem
http://oi60.tinypic.com/29kvqs8.jpg
.
.
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/268738-at-thy-feet/ic to pic/poem
Solomon Jan 14
Those without a mind,
could harm you,
Those with a mind,
would do so too,
eventually.
smiling at the bottom of a puddle
i see through the liquid sludge
and catch a glimpse of your beauty
shining through the mud
so this is it
a whisper and then silence
the swift decline of our intelligence
into mindless spats of violence
rest in peace our souls
grieve for they are bottomless
forage in a new generation
humanity is hungry
under the stars and the sun
love is never overcome
by anything less than fun
look at the music
for awhile i heard them praying
hours went by and then days
until you wept i knew nothing
your love is right in front of me
and i am slow to rise
in the morning
mannley collins Jan 2016
Lies are lies
they deny you the truth.
Truth is truth
it denies you the lie.
when examined closely both are exactly the same.
They are interchangeable.
People that tell the "truth" to you are denying you lies.
How boring and dangerous and malevolent are people full of truth.
Choose your religious truth---
Christian truth.
Islamic truth.
Judaic truth.
Vedic Hindoo truth.
Buddist truth.
Capitalist truth.
Socialist truth.
Free market truth.
Managed market truth.
Monarchist truth.
Democratic truth.
Militarist truth.
Liberal truth.
Fascist truth.

People that tell lies to you are denying you truthfulness.
How boring and dangerous and malevolent are people full of lies.
Choose your lies.
Christian lies.
Islamic lies.
Judaic lies.
Vedic Hindoo lies.
Buddist lies.
Capitalist lies.
Socialist lies.
Free market lies.
Managed market lies.
Monarchist lies.
Democratic lies.
Militarist lies.
Liberal lies.
Fascist lies.
Truthfulness is neither truth nor lies.
It exists on its own.
Truthfulness is free of the Duality of Truth and Lies..
The individual Isness exists in the state of Separate and Merged with the Isness of the Universe.
Permanent Mindlessness is unconditional love--just ask any Dog or Cat.
The Mind separates us from the Isness of the Universe.
The Mind creates Duality which is governed by Conditional Love.
The individual Isness creates Unconditional Love(Consciousness) which is outside Duality.
Mind cannot create Unconditional Love.
The individual Isness cannot create Conditional Love.
If you have Mind/Conditioned Identity in your head you cannot love Unconditionally.
If you do not have Mind/Conditioned Identity then you can only love Unconditionally.
If you have Mind and Conditioned Identity  you cannot be Merged with the Isness of the Universe.
If you are Mindless and Conditioned Identityless you are merged with the Isness of the Universe.
Conditional Love says I love you on Condition I can hate you.
Unconditional Love says I will never stop loving you but I may dissapprove of your actions but I will never hate you because I cannot hate..
Conditional Love is selective--it only applies to Family and Friends and fellow GroupMind members.
Unconditional Love is not selective--it applies to every living being--human or otherwise.
Unconditional Love does not see people as Friends and Enemies.
Unconditional Love sees people as individual Isness incarnated in bodies.
Humans are deceived by the Mind into believing that the Conditioned Identity is their true Identity and deceived by the Mind into believing that they should leave the running of their brains and therefore their lives to the Mind.
The individual Isness is a small but equal individual independent,
nameless,formless,genderless,autonomous portion of the Isness of the Universe that people controlled by Mind are taught to call a Soul.
The Soul is just another Mind created Conditioned Identity.
The Atman is just another Mind created Conditioned Identity.
The individual  Isness is formed from a small but equal portion of the essence of the Isness of the Universe and incarnated in a Human Body of either Gender-_male or female of any skin colour.



www.beyondenlightenment.co.uk
Harriet Cleve Aug 2018
...the threshold of a borrowed day stood before him mocking his manhood. He had refused to die when the levers of death were unleashed.A scorched black skull betrayed the ineptitude of mechanics. Yes, he had tremored and shook violently when the surge of electricity flowed throughout his flesh and veins. The vividness of the images projected from his memory onto his brains widescreen
horrified the very mind which had committed the atrocity of ******.

It was his hand he saw brandishing the footstool and crashing it into the terrified head of his neighbour. The frenzied last minute pathetic attempt of his victim to defend the most vicious injury inflicted with severe hostility. He heard once again the anguished brief scream screeching in the last desperate utterance of his victim. The pulped brain tissue seemed to spatter in microseconds and with it every thought and memory once possessed by this desecrated being
sprayed his face and accused him of wanton cruelty.

The eyes too accused him and stared with bitter intensity until their life force blinkered out and suddenly it was dark.

One brief instant caused him to bite on his tongue and split it in two as the electricity claimed justice shaking his conscience with bitter recrimination, defying him to live and yet live he did.

An unexpected power cut severed the link between life and death.
He was only aware of the eyes of the living in the death cell looking on incredulously at this unwanted twist of fate. The smell of burning flesh was like a taste of the fires of hell and damnation.
He knew too he had survived and took a callous satisfaction in his phyric victory,

As they warden unstrapped the clamps from his wrists and legs he felt a tangible relief. Fate had intervened and taken his side.

Suddenly through the door came a family member of his victim brandishing a wooden footstool as if he had suspected justice would take an absence of leave. Holding it high above his arms he swung it down on the head of the murderer and smashed his brains to a pulp.
A ****** had claimed a murderer and in that moment of terror the air was permeated with the fragrance of rough justice.

Silence settled on the scene and the tragic realisation that violence lay within the grasp of every man who chose to act on mindless impulse.

The power suddenly returned and an arc of electricity flashed in the air. It came too late for all who had come to see righteousness
prevailing.

Tomorrow another man would await the threshold of a borrowed
day.
Umi Mar 2018
Far on a lunatic sea, filled with tranquility and serenity, love and devotion, some flowers have made it their goal to bloom in purity,
Innocent looking, sweet and with a scent from amongst the heavens,
Tricking their foolish, mindless pray to come closer to them while seeping in spite and hatred, longing for revenge for their reflection,
A soft breeze accompanies the starlit sky, transient moonlight lurks through in a ghastly, bluish horizon as it rises to claim the heavens for his own once he had reached its fullest phase, ahh those phantoms,
Gone mad through a night full of punishment and bloodshed,
Before the petals can scatter in a dawning sky they seek for an intent,
Finally an attempt would be able to be made, a pity human draws near, weeping in sorrow and grief, causing them to shake excitedly
As then their roots would rush out of the ground and imprison him,
Twisted illusion of diversion, as they pierce through skin and bones, dragging his struggling, flailing body underground,remaining unseen
Feeding on his blood, using his corpse as a fertiliser they stay pure,
Moved for one instant, they dive deeper into the soil of this landscape
Hatred twines around them, causing disturbance in their memories,
It is alike to be left in an accelerating world of recurrance, everlasting,
Until the sunrise has dyed the sky in red and everything replicates

~ Umi
Troy Jan 2018
Welcome to the new age .
Where your new god is your T.V.
Like mindless blobs
You sit
Transformed
Mezmerize
Hypnotized
Fixed on the  Misery of others
As its
Teaching our young to hate.
     Kneel down
Give praise to your new god
The TV.
as the news spreads hate and fear.
It's all washed in lies.
Come people stand in line .
It's black Friday
As you punch and trample over
Your mother  
For the low price
On your god the TV
Your kids are brain washed
Taught to hate
Hypnotized
And taught to live in fear.
Your God in an instant spreads lies to the masses.
As you sit Hypnotize
mesmerize
Listing to lies.

People turn off your god
get up off your sofa and go out side
There's a beautiful world out there
Full of amazement and wonder
Listin to the river flowing
The birds singing
Smell the roses
In the soft wind blowing
Listing to the Laughter of the kids playing.
Remember when this was you.
Laughing.
Turn off your TV
Go out side
Be amazed
It's a
Beautiful world just
Open your eyes
Love cost nothing
And hurts no one.
Turn off your
Tv.
Lexi Guffey Oct 2018
Wake me up
I'm laying down restless and rising exhausted,
sleepwalking where I should be inspired.

desire to change
need to escape
slowly drowning in the inevitable,
oxygen just out of reach.

smother my thoughts
suffocate spirit,
take passion and turn it mindless.

I don't feel much anymore,
my mind alive in catacombs.
tear me apart
//red//
break me down
//glass//
at least it’s not indifference
//grey//

lonely tile nights,
the voices in my head
don't scream as often anymore.

wake me up
hold me tight (you’re not alone)
know my name (you’re not alone)

this is not the story of insanity -
I'm taking my mad back
as I'm crawling from the underground,
giving voice to where I'm from.

let silence succumb to authenticity,
let pain fade into strength.
I'm rebuilding from self destruction,
tearing down the walls I set.

recovery revival renewal
maybe I'll feel something again.
until then
I am looking in the mirror to hold on,
I am screaming toward the empty,
reminding myself to be real;
hoping that my voice uncensored,
filled with truth,
laced with fire
will echo through the city that surrounds me,
ricochet through the hearts of those who need to hear:
this is not the end
this is not the end.

wake me up
I only know how to disappear.
Robert G Page Dec 2015
A Christmas Thought (short story)
by
rgpage

This time of the year,  when once giving from the heart has since melted like the snow in Spring to the meaningless demand for expensive toys and gadgets;  and Santa has waned to no more than the all-giving sugar daddy to each and every child,  and a tireless crutch to the mindless parent during the year; “Santa’s watching so you’d better be good.”

And alas,  there I stood in this huge department store amid a vast forest of toys, colors, and noises, fallen prey to this modern day hypocrisy known as Christmas.  Being of a lower middle economical standard,  and having with such stealth blindness juggled expenses and bills to afford myself the opportunity to plunge even deeper into dept.  I pondered these playful wonders of modern day technology.  All about countless numbers of people were doing as I in efforts to reward their children for their year of good service.

This was when I saw her. As fast as this seasonal frenzy had overtaken me just days earlier,  it vanished for a time as I watched her. It must have been that she seemed so out of place in this hurry-scurry festive scene of Christmas shopping that she caught my eye.  She was very old and her tattered,  worn out clothing all too obviously reflected the fact that she couldn’t afford much.  While others struggled about her almost comically laden with brightly colored  packages, this old woman had nothing more than an old purse dangling from her arm.  Slowly she moved, seemingly pained with the infirmities which accompany old age.  She appeared overweight for her stature which I’m sure added to her discomfort.  When she stopped in front of the doll section  her old, pudgy face glowed with joy.  Undoubtedly a doll for a little granddaughter,  I was  sure no more as she couldn’t possibly afford more.  I watched as she studied each doll
and its price tag,  going from one to the next.  Finally she stopped to give particular attention to one little doll adorned with colorful ribbons and big bright blue eyes.  Then putting the doll back,  she opened her purse and I watched as she counted the small amount of money that she had.  

By this time I had become so unexplainably absorbed with watching the old woman,  who with a smile closed her purse, retrieved the doll and walked slowly and painfully to the checkout counter to wait in line.  Around her the noise of parents and children alike waiting their turn to check out didn’t seem to bother her as she patiently waited, holding the precious little doll for an equally precious granddaughter.  Finally when her turn came, an all to cruel yet human trait appeared in not only the people waiting behind her but the checkout clerk as well. Their impatience to maintain a steady flow of human traffic through the turnstiles came to the forefront almost obliterating this seasonal spirit.  This didn’t seem to deter the old woman from slowly and surely counting out the correct change,  leaving her very little to return to her purse.

With this done and the doll tucked away in a shopping sack,  she proceeded through the large glass doors and out into the cold December night.  A passing thought, “one special gift for one special person,” went through my mind as I continued my own, now more selective tour of annual duty.  Looking over my shoulder for one last glimpse of the old woman, I suddenly felt as if struck by a jolt of electricity as I saw her on her back in the slushy snow, struggling like an over-turned turtle.

Bolting out the door hoping to be the first to reach her,  I almost found myself lying next to her on the slick sidewalk.  Nothing was said as I struggled to lift her up.  Once this was accomplished I asked her if she was alright.  Instead of answering  she started looking around for her package.  I spotted the torn, soaked paper sack some ten feet away in a slushy puddle and went to retrieve it.  The doll had come half way out of the sack and her little blonde curls were now filled with water and slush; and as I handed it back I searched the old woman’s face for even a trace of sadness, there was none. Instead she looked at me smiled and said, “thank you young man, it’ll dry out, it’ll be alright, Merry Christmas.”  Then holding the doll in both hands, she turned and went on her way, much slower and much more cautiously.  I just stood there and watched her until she finally disappeared in the crowd and darkness and thought to myself, “maybe Santa Claus isn’t a man after all.”
Jackie G Aug 2018
Sin
Temptation at its finest
Bad decisions, like they're mindless
As i look at all the blindness
Living life like it's timeless
Some shout yolo, others think nobody could see them

If i were them I'd be COMBATING all those demons-even start praying more!!!
WE ARE NOT KIDS
THIS IS FOR REAL
THIS IS FOR SURE
Good intentions are always first
But next comes PAIN or should i say hurt
then your trapped doing dirt
Or should i say"pay backs"
Very unforgiving
Trapped in sin

Hurting no-one but self.
Trapped in sin
I wonder if they know
With pain comes power
But you hand it over
When you're trapped in sin

It's foul, it's *****, it's sneaky, it's deceiving, it's spiteful,it slanders
It's hurting others, it's nasty, it's unforgiving, it's lustful
It's sin!
Release yourself of it.
We are not perfect but we are able to become new and regenerated wash yourself of bad things in your life so you can get what your heart desires
Pea Sep 2016





I've always been sad about the bathroom. The pink and black, hair and blood, tears and out of tune singing, thick and transparent. Whenever I step on the tiles I become afraid of the shower, that silver thing with wet holes, with cold stream and mindless embrace. But here I don't have the fear, only disgust, because the ground is all black and peeling and it sticks to my feet, and the coldness isn't clean, the coldness is only there because I've left it for just too long.





I keep coming back although I hate it, although each drop of water feels like a punishment and the soap bubbles are mocking my greasy everything. I keep coming back although it tortures me, because at the street I can hear the gazes pointed toward me, how the eyes shift when I try to catch, what is not said in front of me I know them all it rings so loud in my ears, I can hear them all. I keep coming back because even in the world of cruelty I still got to have a place to come home, to have something familiar, so I will feel less lonely and as if I had a purpose. It's a familiar pain, the kind of a hit that feels like a kiss. It's always like this, I keep coming back to the bathroom I do not own, I keep coming back and calling it my home. I've always been sad about it, the bathroom, home, I've always been
With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.
fornicate
and lay back
asleep against the cold steel
heal your wounds with fire
limes are burning
lemons yearning
his fruit is turning into wine
mindless meditators
mediating madness
fundamentally flawed
raw and cored like apples
and hone(st)y
posthumously imbibed
nominal anomalies
rusted tire chains
as thunder complains
of its own ignominy
eyes awaken
lands are taken
and what's far worse
is that we have
all lost our voices
demanding silence
stem-cells signal sentences
denser than a dozen dollar bills
dancing on a pinhead
reprimand and then repeat again
the end is near
feet in fear move slowly
are you impressionable my dear
a glimpse of eternity
and your hair turned white as snow
suppress emotion
keep composure
learn to control
your own will
Kenji Dec 2018
I try to hold these secrets inside me, I try to keep everything locked within me...
Like a misguided key that is lost, and is being searched by others.
They say I am hard to read, but I can see through them like glass, they reflect on me as I reflect on them, a soul of a mirror, I keep my twins within, through the promiscuous looking glass.
With this strange inability to voice out my emotions, I keep everything that suffocates me, to myself.
My minds like a ****** deadly disease with no shame or lies to hide it.
However, this altering personality has a mind of it's own.
Expressing, but spilling too much, I surrender in regret.
I have no shame in hiding this strange disposition of my deceiving facade, I embrace myself in pure madness as my mind twists in insane obligations.
Defeating, but never defeat-less.
Where are you? Are you here? Come to me, dark lonely serpent, don't fear me
Leave, leave me alone.
Soul aches in mindless misery as I sit and talk to myself, and the unknown.
These spirits and forces suggest I'm living a lie and it isn't home.
These lucid dreams I have every night give me messages, and signs.
Some dreams are paranormal and realistic like a spirit is trying to speak through to me to get to the known dimensions to be seen, to be heard.
But some dreams are just vivid escapism methods to wonder other dimensions.
I see everything in my perceptive dreams, even in the conscious, the world we see to think to be real.
I see the child's tears as his mother stabs his dad in vicious anger.
I see the animal's wimper and sorrow as it limps in agony being tortured it's whole life, just searching, and searching for food.
I see the beggars dead eyes as drugs has overtaken their pure mind, the loss of hope, but I still see something pure, screaming to jump out.
I see the maids strength as they battle working days and days, getting underpaid and never seeing their family just to hustle and make money.
I see the lawyers fight for moral justice and integrity as the case has been lost, yet, they keep on fighting, they never give up.
I see the business mans wife drink wine alone all day just waiting for her husband to come home, but he's busy ******* his secretary.
I see the birds squeal in pain as its wing has broke, and no one coming to it's presence to help it.
I see my sick grans soulless eyes as Dementia  has overtaken her and she lives in permanent confusion thinking her brother whom died 20 years ago, is still alive.
I see, I see everything.
With a strong Moon in Pisces energy, this perceptive mind is never at rest. It's still fighting to love so unconditionally and help everyone at my feet.
I bleed, I ache, I scar, I cry, I surrender, and, these are my reasons for needing to hide.
With a mind of such empathy, I battle even helping myself.
But this is my insight, as a spiritual teacher.
I will die helping the unwanted...
I will die spreading love and justice...
I will die in lonely misery...
And I will die knowing my life made sense if those I sacrificed for, was all worth, the pain
...
Moon in Pisces:
-Emotional
-Intuitive
-Dreamy
-Empathetic
-Helpful
-Spiritual
Next page