"obscureness" poems
What is my Purpose?
On this earth's surface.
Do I have an ultimate service,
within these verses?
What is my purpose,
In today's circus.
Is it to buy all that I can purchase?
Or be out on the street shirtless.
What is my purpose,
Among the Earth's worthless,
Is it to grow up scared and nervous?
Or walk around nerveless.
What is my purpose,
In this earth's furnace,
Is it to be full of pureness
and warm those around me like a thermos?
To the above questions,
I am wordless.
To the above questions,
I am verbless.
To the above questions,
I am termless.
So i guess my purpose,
Is full of obscureness.
And in this search for sureness,
I strive on with sterness,
Ignoring the churchless,
In doing my best to furbish
My best definition
Of Purpose.
May 4, 2010
May 4, 2010 at 9:21 AM UTC
i just want you know
that you are beautiful
and i love you
more than the sun
could ever love the moon.
i know these are just a few
fragile words,
but you deserve to hear them.
i know we go through
times of obscureness
and insecurities,
and times when it feels
like we are
d
r
o
w
n
i
n
g.
but please,
do not let these words escape from
your beautiful mind:
that you are strong, delightful, and lovely
as could be;
for it hurts me to see
you lose that very thought.
thank you for sharing such beautiful
(both of happiness and of heartache)
memories with me.
i know there will come a time
when we must leave each other
to achieve and meet our dreams,
but please don't forget me,
because i promise
to keep you in my heart
until the end of time.
thank you,
for inspiring me
and sharing such
unforgettable moments with me.
love,
me.
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 1:41 AM UTC
You are...
The epitome of insanity
The goddess of hypocrisy
The rebel of gracility
And the idolater of vanity
The paramount of mistress
The fixative of my embodiment
I am a failed triad of disappointment lacking your physical, emotional and ****** completeness
I'm fueled by love of my adversary's scrimmage
And broken by my lechery
Thus making me facil to your incogent persuasion.
And infatuated by your complimentary image
Though you are the demoralizer of souls
The extension of my patience
By the obscureness of your oomph
Why in the foolery are you the axis of my goals
You're an abhorrent char to my mind
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 6:44 AM UTC
The pain will never go away
Like raindrops on my cheeks
Flash flood, into a raging river
Rushing off my face; Waterfall,
A grief-stricken cascade
The pain will never go away
Weak with ailing vertigo
Swaying back and forth
Only to be stationary; Rotting,
A slow and steady decay
The pain will never go away
Raging war, of the internal kind
Dolefulness claims it's crown
Contentment held captive
Like the Seventh Crusade
The pain will never go away
No light insight, Deep in the woods
Like the blackness
On a new moon night; Cold
One degree centigrade
The pain will never go away
Hollowed, repleted with agony
Gray, A bleakness
Never truly described; This
The obscureness of dolor's grenade
It will never go away
Dec 20, 2017
Dec 20, 2017 at 7:27 PM UTC
I feel so lost and confused in the graveyard of my dreams
Like a crystal circus ball where the timeline's infinite
Although I am young and full to my capacities
I am shackled to a sorrow that has no destiny
For so it's been told at least it's been making me believe
Of someone that I know nothing of nor ever even seen
Just a comment just a thought
Maybe the ignorance of fools that just might be
That lurked into the deepest part of me
Where I've been used as a tool
To be the one where they have unburden their own self pity
As here I am now in the remainder of their ashes
There is filth there is darkness
An uncertainty that scares all calmness
There is more than only madness
There, I lay there in the obscureness of my answers
Of the person that I might be or never ever see
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 6:31 PM UTC
wet softness
that by does
(
arching
upon
arching
(
lean into of
leaning,
suppose a wen.
that of hurried ugly millions lurch
on lurching bodies of tired always to be,
courses with new old obscureness of
brusque hideous hope. that hope
of to be not always tired of being–
to find some seed, some
new rind of dazzzling health
in unliving mounds of hurt asphalt.
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 6:12 AM UTC
If it turns back to you
The next move yours to make,
Will you always be true
If once you choose to partake?
If the next move falls to me
I promise this clearly
I wont run and back away
Theres so much that i want to say
Especially to you
If the ball lands in your court
And its up to you you see
Will you choose to notiçe me
Or will you run and flee?
If its up to only me
And luck smiles down easily
I tell you this truthfully
I will play oh so paitintly
If only i can make you see
Time becomes the master
Days and nights to keep
If all i am is easy
For you i will fall deep
Every season has its turn
Every day a purpose
But will i find relief
From your obscureness?
Yes if it comes back to you
And what it is that you do
Will you still be truthfull
If you decided too
Tell me goodbuye?
And this i long from you
To never let this be
For if it is up to you
I guess i have to leave
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 9:13 AM UTC