"ominous" poems
I find it strange that when I look into your eyes I'm not met with an endless starry sky. The world around me doesn't freeze or turn monochrome around everyone but you. I don't see an endless sea or visions of a setting sun, no matter my determination. So how do I know it is love if it isn't as the words I've heard all my life describe?
Yet my heart still drops when you walk into the room, even when your focus is a place far off. People say it's like a flutter but this is far too heavy to use such a light word to describe such a feeling. It's painful, but I know it isn't something ominous or bad because it feels right. How do I know it is love if none if my words describe it right as they should?
I get it every time our eyes meet or you tilt your head and smile with your head in the clouds. I get it when you laugh to yourself or say something hardly above a whisper. When you focus so hard you ***** up and let out that silly sigh of aggravation and I feel such deep affection. Yet is it alright for me to say what I feel is love when I can't even tell myself what love is?
I don't think your eyes need starry skies or my stomach needs a million butterflies. Your smile doesn't need to illuminate the room and my thoughts for you don't need an anchor. Your love shouldn't have an expectation and my words don't need to have a proper diction.
Perhaps I'll see it in your heart or feel it in your touch one day if you feel the same regardless of what the world has sold me with their modern day poetry. I promise you that no matter how hopeless I become I will find out for myself what it means to love you wholly, even if I have to find out from loving at a distance.
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 1:16 AM UTC
The sky above me, closed in as the dark, ominous yet fascinating rainclouds have driven near, gathering together in a council.
As it begins to drizzle, soft, warm and little raindrops, fall in
line, gently, carelessly hitting the earth, moistening it in their line.
Once in a while, as the rain gains its strengh, hitting the ground below with more speed and roughlessness in their action,
Rays of the purest light, sent by the sun as it shines above the darkening sky, a sensation for ones optic nerv, a sensation for the eye,
make it through and let this scene shine further more.
Graceful drops, carrried and distorted by the majestic wind,
Create a lovely melody on my window, as they one by one fly into it.
Now as the soil is fertilised, life will surely grow from the sunlight.
Alike the raindrops are carried by the wind, my mind engages with this scene, lets me fall in love with this beautiful earth.
A little rain shall not be the cause of sadness, as it truly is a reminder of the moments of love wich it makes easier to determine.
So I keep my gaze out of the window and enjoy the weather
Until then, the sky clears up and the sun shines again.
~ Umi
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 5:19 PM UTC
she was leaving
and got the gumption
to see me before she did
so we went to dinner
she sat, crumpled
at the edge of the booth
playing with her silverware
hands sweating
our knees barely touching
underneath the table
they shook like the day we met
they shook like floodgates
when the clouds get upset
her hair was drawn back
into an apology
and she didn't answer
when the waiter asked for drinks
she pans, tilts
looking for the restroom
but doesn't get up
covers her mouth
to hide her furled chin
i cut her a piece of bread
not sparingly
i didn't want to ruin the symbolism
of cutting a gangrenous thing
from ones self
she half wept out "tell me a joke"
i thought to say "look at us."
that's it. that's the joke.
the premise & the punch line
sharing some silence
here in this ominous moment
so thick with goodbye
you could touch it
i said "when they asked what the name was for the wait, i should've said "awkward, party of 2"
but that's not the joke
"knock knock"
she whispered "who's there?"
i sat for a moment and said
"so we've come full circle.. we're even in the same seats, from all those months ago"
her lips quivered
and she hid her mouth
"i just wanted to hear a joke"
she said
i came back with
"if i fell for you in a quiet restaurant & no one was around to hear it, does the laughter of children i drempt we'd have make a sound?"
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 7:19 PM UTC
He was,
Taboo.
His whole existence was,
Wrong,
Ominous,
Obscene.
Oh so Taboo in his walk, speech,
each
and every step was Meticulous
it was ridiculous
He was,
EVERYTHING
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 1:07 AM UTC
I am the rose that grew from concrete
Budded from stones, rocks, mortar, cement, broken glass, drug vials and bags.
I am a product of my environment.
What you thought would **** me,
Only served to make me stronger.
Evolved into a hybrid
I'm the only of my kind.
My thorns fortified with brass knuckles,
My color faded from weather beatings,
And all other beatings,
The travesty of my existence
is not lost on me.
Beauty in the midst of pain,
And what is the epitome of ugly.
I don't belong here and never did.
Wisdom I have absorbed
From rains never to come again
Rejuvenates my leaves.
Although I cannot absorb it all,
Through the cracks in the concrete.
I relish what I can
And vow to absorb more the next time,
Should I be so fortunate.
Because the concrete can protect
As well as expose my naivete.
So compelling to manipulate,
It would be ideal to control.
Impossible though.
How can you control
What grows and survives in the midst of chaos?
And at what cost to your soul?
Even through the ominous clouds,
I remain in light.
The Sun has never been immune to my plight.
Providing the strength, energy and hope
I'll need for the next season of my fight.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 2:00 AM UTC
The Buddha slept under the night sky on His back
eyes open; fearless love looked up. humbling the majesty
of the Void's gift.
eyes fixed... both peerless.
first among equals.
but transcendent.
The Buddha,
wearing grass-stained robes
chose a blank spot
for a blank stare
" Nowhere Girls are EveryWHERE "
He thought, astonished.
a moment after
where once He stood
there Was No
spoon.
[ PART ii ] NOT THE KOAN BUT THE KOAN THAT YOU GOT
on the X-ray zen splints were clearly spidered webs in ghost bone... how should I feel that my sensei saw the X-ray first?
life is where the answer to this question is a real thing draped in ominous clarity like a town fool, the beggar foreclosing
on your house of cards, the winged swine and some guy named Patrick having a smoke in your face; the mailman, who
always looks so serious about your trivia in a blue hat... who always trips over your precious dying very potted plants!
yes, all that, or maybe not. saute some fresh green kale in olive oil with fresh garlic
[ give it to me ] and i'll tell you that was very thoughtful, and right then;
it would also be
true.
for a minute there... you and i were typing you reading this part.
these are the diamonds.
my exposure to the radiation is everlasting in the middle of it's brief long duration
my ghost bones wear new flesh like iPod headphones, don't hate the player
[ better yet ]
make a macaroni necklace. go wild. be reckless.
it'll cost you an ounce of real kimchi
from the motherland
with the ugly
sister.
i wouldn't put it pass you. cause that would be clairvoyance, and you already know!
a loose tooth entrenched in candy apple can't taste your stupidity but has bad dreams!
some people will always look at you the wrong way and appreciate
how you sat perfectly still for hours; you only took a break to suggest
a better room with southern exposure to eastern thought.
when you threw in a Tripod, they knew you were somekinda somethin'.
and they knew it all along
but juuust wasn't
sure.
and kumquats are quantumly eaten.
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 2:22 PM UTC
Pain is inevitable,
Suffering is optional.
The crossroads of success,
Is always constructional.
If we could become tress,
Solid and stoic, deep rooted
In Mother Earth's flesh;
We could stand firm
Through the tempest, unswayed.
But we are only humans.
Covered in darkness.
Hiding behind our fears,
Timidly withdrawing from
The ominous tempest.
So, embrace the fury,
The daunting gales that
Once were scary.
After all, you can't
Stop the waves,
But you can learn to surf.
And even if you sank,
Deeper into the void,
At least you'll drown
Knowing there was
Beauty In The Struggle.
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 10:42 AM UTC
.
**•i've depleted my font,
my creative well•for each
day passed, with a story to tell
•staining white and barren land-
scapes•by sculpting my words into
myriad shapes•from factory fumes to
a wedding ring•an ominous tombstone
to a flash of lightning•an hourglass to track
elapsing time•the untold story behind a loved**
nursery rhyme• |
with this i conc- |
lude my 30 day run o
•it's been quite a stretch but
all in good fun•rest assured that
more will come when the time is
right•for now i'll turn off my
bedside lamp and bid
you all a goodnight•
.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
What might it be that doesn't let me compete to three verses ?
Perhaps it is that I tend to write longer poems, perhaps the lengh
shouldn't matter so much as the message is carried through.
From mind to heart, then to ones soul I try to reach out with no goal.
Yet am beaten, brought back down, by three verses which show up
with such malice, ominous, threatful aura, they have approached me.
I pretend not to mind, I pretend not to have seen it, yet the simple,
silly, broken stream in my thoughts has already engaged it.
So that it once again, cannot repress, envy on such a level.
My writing style might have been through changes, might have
come to a disliking to those who prefer a clear, structured, yet well
recorded, beautiful and magnificent rhyme pattern.
That should surely catch one's eye, perhaps fill them with glee and
bliss, happy thoughts that they would miss once they are gone.
But no, I cannot turn, this path was chosen, locked, destined to be
walked upon on an journey which has become endless, by time
which had stopped passing anymore.
So now it became unrecognised, forgotten, left in an abyss without
any light to expose it to the world outside my head.
Such is the fate, which I will gladly bear with, for this, has been
a route, from which I learn and educate.
So go ahead, you can take my flame thrice, even if I might not be
able to burn this image into your eyes, this ember, about to go out
from the cold, windy, airless area, will only burn brighter.
As it rises from the ashes and yet again, goes ablaze
~ Umi
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 6:55 PM UTC
Contractions are fearful of the
ominous bliss; mighty T Rex.
Now we've reached that time, so classic.
For our lips meet and our hearts ski
under the dim fluorescent light
she smiles, and so too do I.
Ends are beginnings in our sin.
Dancing into the night, we sing.
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC
Endorphin showers for hours
Crash my waves of sorrow and bring me muscles to shine on the world viewed as imperfect.
Its the happiness I never want to leave but it drifts,
its white cloud up and up,
Contact high as it passes my friends I want to share
To care for you all
Vibe in this opposite of ominous
parade bound for cheer, without beer just extracted hormones.
I’ll twirl you like a pencil
dizzy
yet gay, for a day, where I can make someone
you
Happy:)
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 12:14 AM UTC
He was large as frogs go
Fist-sized happy rotund dweller
of backyard pond
Garter snake large, too large
with his ominous yellow stripes
and jaws to take
a larger than average mouthful
Choked by abdomen's girth
Legs drooling from his glut
Before the victim's even hit his gut's
digestive juices
Kid with hockey stick makes him puck
for his sin
Frog makes desperate
slim swim for rocks
Where he lies in recovery
from shock and
teeth marks on his belly
Underdog gets defense from phone call-- Eve
150 miles away
intercedes
Frog gets mercy of a transport
to another backwoods pond--
to find his life
forgetting trauma
Suns himself and swims
Eats the bugs
and ***** the froglettes
of another day
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 8:39 PM UTC
The start is empty and dark, a realm of shadows consumes your mind, your soul and your fragile eyes with no hope for light to unfold
Try leaving the rest, or better,leave it all up to your imagination,
So you may not get lost in this loitering darkness which everlasts!
As you progress it becomes clearer, the picture begins to form alike pieces of an distorted puzzle with discord in between each of them.
When you close the door and enter once more however you will never know what you find, the image truly has corrupted itself,
This place is a secret which holds no meaning; Absolutely Undefined
A shadow can change its shape, reconstruct itself and resize too,
What you get may be what you see, though is it really what you get if you aren't able to trust your eyes through this ominous tenebrosity
A labyrinth, unhinged, seemingly endless cast away in illusion awaits those who make it through without being blinded by their eyes,
But why make progress, I will send you back to the start, empty and dark so that the joy of exploring this world of change never ends.
All or nothing, what is the goal, in this undefined loitering darkness.
~ Umi
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 7:34 AM UTC
The beauty of comatose can only be seen through
the eyes of a wizard in a blizzard
strutting in garlic slippers,
or Christ with knees bent at the tabernacle
peeling bananas and kicking prayers
farther than eternity with each gapping second,
or like Basquiat slumped back to the wall,
with ounces of speedball dancing through his veins,
eating 80’s free-based fried chicken *******
as his eyelids paints beautiful nightmares of lemon flowers
and Bacchus bacon over a glycopyrrolate desert
of flagrant cuckold buffoonery.
Or like leprechauns burning chocolate ******* candles
on the mantle of Zion, sipping oatmeal sprinkled
with Staten Island malt liquor bacon.
or like Tupac reading the thoughts of Mother Shipton
through the daze of California cannabis
and hearing the ominous voice of Plutarch sing death assignments
from heaven to Assassins on horsebacks goggling ***** water
to wet the dry bones of their throats as they prepare to fulfill
the gospel of self-fulfilling prophecies of being fell by ***** bullets.
Or like sophisticated wallets of spice and kitchen characters in a bald head
cooking chemical kisses and 18 February nights under Moloch’s skin,
where constitutions are written in charcoal diaries with Egyptian ciphers and razors.
“I had rain sowed into the pockets of my sneakers and composed 1310 eulogies
at the basement of king David’s tower,” said the Kraftwerkian caricature,
as he dangles cigarettes in remembrance of Klaus Nomi and philosophizes on the proliferation
of poetic vandalism at urinals where modernism failed under the phosphorescence of coloration at the avenue of no trees where Picasso's "Guernica" **** Lies All.
Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 6:01 PM UTC
Anxious
Dull, a boy is he
names he would not plea
eyes like baby blue-
lips a crimson hue
Feelings like me and you
Reclusive
Outsiders he'd not choose
In his mansions he bore
luring himself-
with enchanting lore's
drifting away, loosing woes
A Xenos
Traveling in his hallways
unknown, ominous
a wretched life he portrays
even in his heart, he'd say-
"Loneliness, such a Cliché"
Forsaken
Befriended, unseen
though he's not a devil
-for I believe
tortured, battered on thee
delude by his mistress' skim
He Left
portals out from misery
gone himself eagerly
then comes back, with such
-A Victory
for now, a statured man is he
Knights & Kings
upon bended knees
and everything he please
from a man to a boy
-in a dream
A Castle, now he redeems
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 7:48 PM UTC
It begins with the ominous clouds that roil and billow over the sky.
Then they darken:
Soft whites...
Seductive greys...
All the way to the purple black that haunts the skies on the cusp of a winter night.
The smell that follows this sinister nebula of vapor hanging over your head is that of life bringing relief.
The smell of dry earth mingling with that of the fresh water above reminds one of summer breezes, freedom and relaxation.
The cool but warm drops of moisture start gently stroking your shoulders and arms.
The strength increases, forcing you to squint as you take in the beautiful composition of nature above.
Soon you're covering your head as the rain pelts down and you race for shelter.
The puddles appearing on the floor disrupted by the matter consistently falling into them.
You peer into the world, completely changed, as you visibility decreases and smile, the metallic twangs to the rain hitting the patio roof fill your ears and soul with its rhythm and music.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 12:14 AM UTC
Not Particularly living up to his name,
Fear stands with open arms,
Welcoming me with a smile.
He is Handsome.
Standing tall with no suspicious qualities;
Beautiful eyes carry no emotion,
Crimson orbs, fiery yet tranquil.
He is Kind.
Like the boyfriend you've always wanted,
He will embrace you with warmth,
Completely faithful in your name.
He is perfect.
And yet, he is what flaws mankind.
Stalking your mind, making you wish
you could walk away from his embrace.
He is persistent.
Making you hesitate with decisions,
Closing your mouth before you can speak,
Making your eyes surge with eerie anticipation.
He is aggressive.
Knocking you over with ominous thoughts,
Choking you, restraining your voice.
Shackling you, turning you powerless.
He isn't real.
Conjured up by outside voices,
By your own nature, and though you know that,
he is more real than any person.
He is Fear.
And he will consume you.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC
Jade helm
"Mastering the human domain"
It's all about control
Controlling human beings
And enslaving us
In the one world/new world global government
Information collection
Pre-crime technology (minority report)
System has no empathy or remorse
Self organizing, vision capable, expectation capable, recognition capable, situationally aware, emotionally intelligent, goal oriented system. The system, thinks, plans and executes.
Back in the late 80's MIT students developed AI technology on a distributed network (CGI lamp taught to dance). It Learned and evolved in 24 hours what would take 1,000 generations to accomplish. They issued a warning of how dangerous this technology is to humanity.
GEOINT
--Jade 2 plus more
--Communications
“smart grid, meter, etc"
Will be connected to this system
Control the environment
“Microchipping”
It Surpasses RFID technology
RFID chips can be removed
Nodes can be removed on a network--unplug printer
Human beings used as nodes
Eliminate connectivity to global information network
Cash removed
One world government
Domain--Human dynamics, terrain, geography
Domestic threat assessment centers
Activity based intelligence
All aspects of human activity monitored
All collected data to be geolocated
And tied to a specific node of the network
Georeferencing
do you will it
will you do it
it will do you
All three of these phrases
Have equal value
In this system
Which is very dangerous!
**Generate answers to questions
That haven’t been asked, or never existed in the first place
“Ominous” A.I.**--according to the source
Gates and Zuckerberg--want to bring technology to third world nations
GEOINT--Collect all data--for human terrain map
No privacy--no encrypted data
Welcome to Orwell's 1984, Skynet or The Borg
Sci-Fi was telling us what would be the reality
Emotional responses trigger the system
It feeds off of fear and anxiety
All the social networking--facebook, etc
All that info has been collected
Placed into this GEO INT system
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
Summer sun, lots of fun, let's go to the beach,
The moon tonight will be warm with light a border does not breach,
The wind carries dust along, rust adorns some iron, lets sing a song!
Birds and bees, fly through some leafs of the happy blossoming trees,
This time to come, as spring moved along, worth looking forward to
Oh little cloud, are you coming in a crowd ? The sky begins to darken,
A thunderstorm with many lightnings, harken to their voice,
Growling loud and ominous, it's not like you would have a choice,
Once this heaven clears up, the scene will shine brightly,
Like the sun, gone beyond the zenith simple yet lightly,
Lose yourself in the wandering fragnance nature offers you,
Once you're back, your back will crack by the work you do,
Wishing to have cherished moments of such joy to an further extend,
Time is some wealth everyone possesses yet you should not pretend,
to have plenty of it when it is running out and coming to an end,
Let's enjoy the summer sun, together as long as we can,
Doesn't this sound like a good plan ?
~ Umi
Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 6:12 PM UTC
They weren’t all cut from the same cloth
*vilified tenders of the iron *****
some were lovers
(or lucid dreamers)
stage romantics
hidden behind jackboots
and skull caps
and switchblade seams
Caste members of a forlorn pack
counting their patchwork and deeds
conjuring up demons
around the console
filling their dreams
with radio reds
and dusted quarries
and faded sepia prints
Brass knuckles
and marches of the few
lightening bolt cracks
from a chilling blood moon
death’s dark specter
cold and ominous looms
the cobalt sea swells
near the nestled, and lost
Clubhouse at Kiusta
Jul 29, 2017
Jul 29, 2017 at 12:15 PM UTC
Holding a pen in hand, preparing pitch-black ink for a blank paper,
I begin with gentle, delicate movements, letting it slide over it.
One line follows another, one without any bother, any care to it.
A regular starshaped polygon, surrounded by a simple circle has been made, one which holds meaning to it, hidden underneath ink.
Some might gaze at it as a sign of a greater evil, heresy or worse,
Others might watch it in awe, a sign of protection a symbol of hope.
A maze with two ends has been made, each with its own belief.
However, my tired eyes, which have been worn, gaze at it and see beauty, the connection of each line contains grace, closed by the circle.
Thus a smile has been cast on my face, as I look at it another time,
Noticing how the black ink has taken the papers purity my cheering sight perishes, saddens in an instant, what I had drawn had become unrecognizable, as the paper spread the ink and distorted this image.
The broken in the light, moist and now fragile, drops through, in wonderous, ominous distraction, leaving a great hole in the middle.
Unable to be ever repaired the paper finds its trail into the trash,
A puddle left of what it was, mixed with the pitch black, had to be cleaned up, so that another attempt could be made, another try.
So I pick up my pen once again and connect the lines with a smile.
~ Umi
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 10:51 AM UTC
*as winter acquiesces to the blazing sun
a soothing breeze softly grazes tips of aspen
gently shedding past liaisons
a perfect panacea
allowing wild freedom for summer’s dawn
healing from the ominous night
a flower gingerly releases its grasp
leaning into golden rays of summertime
keenly aware of newfound vulnerability
it yawns into the light
a rousing essence induces
a silhouette of life once thought lost
prodding river’s rigid ice blue crystals
to melt and flow with buoyant wonder
kaleidoscopic-like waves
having weathered near annihilation
a sculptured consciousness remains
painting summer clouds with soft-hued wisdom
all awakens from the dream
and should the cold return once more
the sun will shine again
©2016janetaylor
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 3:23 AM UTC
*hitherto i naively challenged
my decision to enter an ominous existence
a vicious maze veiled in obscurity
inconceivable to navigate without the accumulation
of bruises, heartache, and psychic mutilation
the torment’s ache so unfathomable
i begged to evaporate beseeching death’s arrival
and with the dexterity of a masterful wizard
i magically spun threads of my shredded soul
into a mangled ball of mental lacerations
then stealthily in the opaque of the night
i rushed the frigid black ocean’s high tide
and deluging myself in the ebony water
i buried the battered ball
now deeply eclipsed in the onyx abyss
it sapped all my strength to hold it under
drowning in the wave’s of sea motion
stinging salt alive on my pours
gasping for air i surrendered my grip
releasing my marred orb of élan vital
capitulating to the sand on the beach
i ceded the fight and watched the sphere roll
unraveling it glistened against the white sand
an opalescent tapestry lit by twilight
mirroring the stars against the coal sky
in the lustrous lunar midnight
reflected back by silver moonlight
littered with specks of fluorescent insight
astonished i drew in my breath as i read
words interlaced in the untangled web
the wounds are there
creating a looking glass
peer in
and you will heal
your own consciousness
©2016janetaylor
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 8:06 AM UTC
Cutting through the darkness with a blade burning in an ominous yet in scarlet reddish tone, roaring as if it had the strengh of thunder.
The wielder in pure fury, swinging, swaying it around to pierce through the sinning gaze of the inhabitants of that place.
It is a true blade of banishment, viscious, without mercy or kindness,
raging evermore in an unending, continous rampage, gaining stengh.
Of course, one wouldn't expect any mercy but purgatory on this cruel and also blood drenched battlefield in which only sorrow is reaped.
But whereabouts of the heart already have been burnt away,
As the warped moon embraces the shadows of the fools,
The end had been brought near on that day which mortals fear,
Heat being spread with each slash, likely to set the soil ablaze,
Thus is the strengh of a sword which holds in a world of nightmares, likely to never desired to be ever seen before
~ Umi
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 7:15 PM UTC