"nds" poems
t h
e y s a y
t hey kn ow lo ve
but wh en th ey s ee
two boys holding their
ha nds i n lov e
why do they on
ly say it is
a sin
?
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 1:16 AM UTC
and the sweat lingers with a
thin film of dust, dirt, mold --
whichever what have you.
what little hydration left of
this soft fleshy vessel seeps
through this veil. creating
rivers of mud that flood the
eyes and blind. though hue
of general existence if silh-
outted. and we follow the sou-
nds hoped spoke on the proper
path. shambling the brush,
ankles caught tight in the
thorns of the undergrowth.
never a first in leaving a
blooded footpath home. and
false words call us upon a
path in Life long returned to
Nature from man. and with blin-
ded eyes and gnarled sense,
trouncing the threshold of door
long closed, fearing only the
chance of having all ended.
the Ocean's desert is nothing
but the sweat of Man's ages'
turned to dust. ended of a
vessel when purpose has seen
fulfillment. to nurture, and
bring forth perpetuation of the
curious disappeared mysteries
resting unburdened, with ponde-
ring left nulled. and recreation,
re-mythologizing aeons not long
past. only a couple thousand
since the last hoarfrost blast.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 9:58 PM UTC
H aven for those who’s words are never read
E ven though they pour their souls and very
L ives and spirit through their pens or
L et their fingers nurture beautiful tomorrows
O n the keyboards of their creativity.
P oetry is the blood that pumps
O ut wondrous magic from those fertile minds that
E nds up on a glowing screen or printed page, in hopes
T hat it can give birth to a long awaited
R ennaissance in the thinking of the world, and create a
Y earning for a better way to live and love.
ljm
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 4:24 PM UTC
keep the window open i cant stand to smell your skin, you are shivering. youre cold
(you tell me so (you want a response (i nod,)))
(but you are still cold)
*do you have any
fantasies?*
this halting voice heaves in my stomach pressing against the walls, making
me sick, the snap of your blinking lids a pickaxe to my temple. *i think about
fire
a lot. i think about forest fires.* filling the tank in a dead town, dark night quiet town,
the gas tank overflows (your nervous eyes in your sweating sticky face {your twitching gaze stroking the lighter in the glove compartment} dry dry lips {your wet tongue only makes them dryer})
breathing in her ear you say *tie me to the stake tight tight so rope burn sears my wrist,
burn me with the dry kindling,*
condensation drips down her neck, sliding down the arm. on the sidewalk in the pit of her shadow a puddle forms, wetting the wings of the unhappy wasps, joints twisted, the gaps in the exoskeleton show something bright, something bulbous, with forceps and needles it could be reached? its delicate skin pierced, oozing thick light (*do you have any
fantasies?*)
[*so there are two of me, right,
clones, equivalent beings but
individuals. some sort of sick
government secret. human ex
periments. its not important.
i grab my clone by the neck or
it grabs me, its not important,
the dust billows when my feet
skid, im choking, vision blurr
ing, i claw at my hands, we f
all, dust bursts into the air, m
y fist makes sick thudding sou
nds when it hits, bruising my
knuckles on the structural bon
es of my face, possibly breaki
ng the more delicate ones. im
straddling my chest and im s
pitting out the teeth that i di
dnt swallow. then the clones
**** im not really sure.*]
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
What is grace?
Grace is
Gained
Righteousness
At
Christ's
Expense
Meaning that with Jesus' death on the cross, he purchased for us a right relationship with God that we could not have earned for ourselves because
Grace is
Received
And
Cannot be
Earned
And once this
Gift is
Realised it
Adequantely
Covers
Everything
Meaning that every debt is paid, every single sin past, present and future is washed away.
So come expectantly because grace is a
Growing
Revolution
And
Carnal
Execution
Which means that as we leave the flesh behind and die more and more to ourselves, we are stepping into a movement that continues to change to world by
Giving
Redemption
And
Communion to
Everyone
God is
Granting
Rest
After
Condemnation
Ends
Because the
Gap has been
Realised
And
Connected
Entirely
A bridge has been built, the battle has been won and
God
Riegns
And
Christ is
Exalted
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 2:26 PM UTC
SanITY is merely a Social constraint
A M E A S U R E M E N T of normality to which
ALL
are expected to conform.
What if we lived in a world where sanity didn’t exist?
???????????????? ???????????????
where every body was completely
U R S R C E
N E T I T D
Where Politeness was a curse and Con form ity a sIn
To B tru lee
“”
to Act and speak without FEAR
to SPEAK with our MINDS
to LOVE UncontrolABLEy
to not be Afraid of fear.
To encounter each proble m as a
GLOBAL COMMUNITY
S ev era l m i nds th ink inga s ONE
thought
to let wander aimlessly like a cloud.
To be intoxicated by life.
To LOVE
To LIVE to be
HAPPY
August 8, 1999
Aug 17, 2011
Aug 17, 2011 at 8:20 AM UTC
Holá, "I never really feel a thing, I'm just kinda too frozen"
Only you, "you were the only one that ever came close."
Loving you is the best... "*And another
Day goes by, So hold
Me tight or don't. Oh no, this isn't how our story
Ends." "I
Took too many hits off this memory,
I need to come down.*"
Gonna love you forever and
Hold you
Tight no matter what!
"*Oh na na na na na na na....*"
"*Realized I can't not be with you Or be just your friend.*"
Down to be with you and
Only you! You're the love of my life
"*Na na na na,*" I'm never coming down from
This love!
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 3:44 PM UTC
Someone told me
you can't write (p)oetry ab(o)ut things
you don't want to romanticiz(e).
So for a long (t)ime
(because of w(r)ong people like (y)ou)
I d(i)dn't write drunk,
becau(s)e the(n) I c(o)uldn't
guard my feelings.
But now I'm drunk as hell
and no(t)hing in my life
is close to romantic
and I don't have to explain to you
why (b)oats, oc(e)ans, and words
are the only things
that e(a)se my open wo(u)nds.
I don'(t) have to tell you why
I don't scream or cry or f(i)ght
when I think about how many of my (f)riends
killed themselves.
I write instead,
and it's not romantic.
I am not
in love
with words.
I am
in love
with them
and they're no longer here,
breathing, holding my hand,
and singing me songs about rivers
and how we'll always find each other.
But we won't,
because there's not a
single ******* romantic thing
about how I'll never hold their hands
again.
So I drink,
and I write,
and I do not (l)isten
to people like you.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 12:27 AM UTC
Remember
Everything
Ends
Ree - To riddle; to sift; to separate or throw off.
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC
Like the
music
I listen
to:
sounds
sou
nds
wh
wha
t at ht
rhy
rhythm
thm to
follow ow
rep
eat rep
rep eating
loops like
hoops
oops
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC