"outlasts" poems
1455
Opinion is a flitting thing,
But Truth, outlasts the Sun—
If then we cannot own them both—
Possess the oldest one—
10.1k
What can win against time, someone asked me
reminiscing the journey which started eighteen months ago
with me and him philosophizing intricacies of life
and human emotion
relishing the daily luxuries of satisfying debates
when little did I know that we would walk all along
fighting demons in our own being
surviving closed ends of fate
and loneliness
The man I got to learn of
his real, gentle and calm soul
comforted with the truth of a warm heart
eventually knocking out the dread
of long distances between us
relinquishing the storms in our minds
embracing sparkles of different weathers
Shall it really last forever
self-contained
or burst out with emotion
believing
it really is us
together
and our love fueled by faith in search of its way
which outlasts time
a shining beacon
in midst of an ocean of crowded wilderness.
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 10:25 PM UTC
Organic has touch,
Metal outlasts.
Organic has sound,
Metal just echoes.
Organic has cushion,
For emotions within.
Metal stays strong,
Can take the toughest hits.
Organic has taste,
Depending what it ate.
Metal vibrates,
To try to imitate.
Organic has colors,
Metal has paint.
Organic forgets,
Metal just waits.
Organic fades,
Metal floats in gray.
Organic needs air,
To sustain health.
But Metal stays,
Right near our chests.
Organic craves,
As Metal engraves.
Organic understands,
Metal just learns.
Organic has a name,
Metal has a brand.
But for some reason,
Found more in our hands.
Keep organic close,
And to metal stand.
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 11:43 AM UTC
The lawyers, Bob, know too much.
They are chums of the books of old John Marshall.
They know it all, what a dead hand wrote,
A stiff dead hand and its knuckles crumbling,
The bones of the fingers a thin white ash.
The lawyers know
a dead man's thought too well.
In the heels of the higgling lawyers, Bob,
Too many slippery ifs and buts and howevers,
Too much hereinbefore provided whereas,
Too many doors to go in and out of.
When the lawyers are through
What is there left, Bob?
Can a mouse nibble at it
And find enough to fasten a tooth in?
Why is there always a secret singing
When a lawyer cashes in?
Why does a hearse horse snicker
Hauling a lawyer away?
The work of a bricklayer goes to the blue.
The knack of a mason outlasts a moon.
The hands of a plasterer hold a room together.
The land of a farmer wishes him back again.
Singers of songs and dreamers of plays
Build a house no wind blows over.
The lawyers--tell me why a hearse horse snickers
hauling a lawyer's bones.
5.6k
The wood is stacked for winter.
One way out of the mind's limitations
is through other minds' contemplations.
The books are stacked for winter.
Yet even that cannot satisfy.
Failing to hold still for meditation
my teacher smiles, makes this observation:
The purpose of sitting's not to be satisfied
or satiated. Remain hungry,
cold, uncomfortable and counting enemies.
These, and fear, are our commonalities,
and the discipline of not hitting whenever angry.
You'll appreciate dying
quietly at home. Whichever season has been randomly assigned will be
beautiful as ever
as a molecule of water is to all matter.
"In my life there were always too many things."
If there is no time, only change
the linear becomes circular.
Do not say north or south. You're
within the winter range
of chickadees, hawks, owls and herons.
River grapes, rose hips, the cedar waxwings'
repast. Their talk is my reminding
change outlasts endurance.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 11:52 AM UTC
Saying “Women of the Night”
Might be alright
As a description for some girls,
They stream eastward
Along the bank,
Checking for marauders and adjusting curls.
Yet courtesans are different;
They came as swiftly as they went,
Called on by important men.
From house and hotel they are borne,
In carriages, and in finery worn,
For those who have a yen.
Yet others still elude one name,
Of condemnation or fame.
They do not wander at men’s whims.
They deliver terms to him or him.
And live in dwellings finer still,
Until the payer has had his fill.
But with the latter does he ever
Tire of the source of pleasure?
For some the need outlasts his want,
And he becomes the supplicant!
Then woman’s wit becomes the master,
While her body wields a whip.
The sinner’s desire speeds still faster,
As she the body’s scale does tip.
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 11:49 AM UTC
Love has found me once again,
just like the touch of some lost friend.
And like a friend it speaks to me
and tells me of what I long to see.
The love has been here all the time,
and to this truth I have been blind.
You see it lives inside my heart.
It's been here from the very start.
That gift of love from Thy own mind,
has been in all of us we find.
Through all the troubles, joys and tests,
we find our love outlasts the rest.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 11:25 AM UTC
Have you ever been in love
In love so deeply
It hurts
Your heart and soul devoted
To that sweet whisper
And you smile
Together you move as one
Singing in grace and beauty
Clinging to innocence
But then he asks you to change
To be someone you're not
To take a risk
On the outside you agree
Smile and bite your lip
Peacefully lying
But on the inside you're a tornado
All hell breaking loose
Holding back the tears
So what do you say?
What can you say?
To please him
For if true love outlasts any obstacle
What am I supposed to do
If my obstacle is love
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 8:30 PM UTC
From your end of
Telescope
Thirty years scans
Infinity
From my end merest
Blink of eye.
When slightest wink
Of billion mile
Star
Outlasts every planet
In the sky
Dec 1, 2016
Dec 1, 2016 at 6:42 AM UTC
In this moment, notes so crisp
Propel and move, my inner self
Melodies of my youth
No words convey, this one feeling
Energy, that floats in waves
Mystery of its whole beauty
Bliss compared, to no other
Hurt is vanished, with this song
No sleep outlasts, my urge to smile
To be again
A phrase so weak, in your presence
My soul unites, with no guilt
To understand nobody can
That is the beauty
of it all
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 9:13 AM UTC
a strong silent power,
rising steady and certain.
putting in the honest work,
day in and day out.
our feminine nature
is the kind of persistent presence
that withstands, and outlasts
life's constant challenges.
eternally exceeding expectations,
we overcome, we succeed,
we grow.
Aug 11, 2019
Aug 11, 2019 at 10:21 AM UTC
danke, und scheiße geruch um beachten! (if ungrammatical then ensure you do not waver to correct me, but speak as correctly as possible and leave me to my insolence and gratify my mistake as championing your correctness, at least thus i'll be glad to make you see what i too wanted to see with my imperfection the suggestive).
western society has taught me
that i'd be better off
not having educated myself -
and that reading philosophical
books is considered a mental illness;
such heightened literacy rates
i almost clamour to buckle
in marking journalism a synonym of propaganda.
no, of course i'm not happy where
i live, i what's deemed a civilisation or
an exportable social model,
a place where you say the word Kierkegaard
and people think you've said gonorrhea,
so the French kiss outlasts oral *** -
tongue here, tongue there, tongue up your ***
you're a credible ****** should it matter,
while all the menial tasks for the unruly
have been exported to made in China -
i ****** Poland for ever wanting to join
the E.U., thank god they didn't adopt the failed
Euro currency - the diversity of the project
would always fail - no slingshot Indians
or bow & arrow akin mattered
when the other Indians gave us the Taj Mahal...
wise too i would be as an Ewok... and a Vindaloo...
wait a minute, why am i writing
like a reformist coloniser? i've been duped!
i learn the english tongue i suddenly
become nothing less than a coloniser myself;
might as well be a viking in york
or a norman at the battle of Hastings!
otherwise i'm a concubine on a mechanised
dildo-throne while the irish are Yuppie
with psychos of american Wolf St. scenarios
awaiting the 1980s discography of
a lucid John Peel commentary.
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 8:18 PM UTC
I would trade a dollar fifty just to have a moments peace
And it may not seem much, but in truth, it's all I have
The winding of the clock on my wrist seems to never ever cease
And all my friends try to reassure me it's not that bad
But each ticking, talking second speaks to me in a impish voice
Waving goodbye as they jump out my window pane
Too much work, so much trouble, popping bubbles called my dreams
As the ticking, talking rings around my brain
So let's trade
There is nothing that comes free in this world of hollow shells
And the only thing more hollow are the victories
For as time rolls by the lines in my face become more evident
And my eyes squint as I try to look for grasses green
Every noise that enters my ear, every person who beckons me
Is a clamp upon my chest leading to a heart attack
So many things that I've done in the past and presently
That I find the hardest thing's not looking back
So here's my dollar fifty
I know you read, hear this, know this entire rhyme to be as true
As the blue we try to paint on greyer skies
I would beg you take my money now, because the clock is ticking down
With this poem alone at least half an hour's gone by
So I get on my knees and pray for one minute and thirteen seconds
To the one who outlasts space and all time
I would be lying if I said I didn't feel my age counting down the hours
So all I can do is pray for peace of mind
And offer my dollar fifty
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 12:12 PM UTC
I have come the selfsame path
To the selfsame door,
Years have left the roses there
Burning as before.
While I watch them in the wind
Quick the hot tears start —
Strange so frail a flame outlasts
Fire in the heart.
1.2k
"The only thing wrong with love poems, is that the poem outlasts the love"
- Unknown
He said that he loves
the way that I laugh, because it shakes
and moves my whole body.
I got drunk and told him
I loved him after a week and four
days. I didn't remember in the morning.
I could never imagine him in mourning,
he was too good of a lover.
Even when he was tired and four
a.m. came faster than the spins and shakes
of alcoholism and *** Everything in him
makes my mouth grin and gasp more than anybody.
He told me I was cut off after four
Long Islands, an archipelago in a body
of stomach acid. I had to shake
my head and laugh; In the morning
I kissed him as if I loved
to be woken up at five a.m. to blow him.
I have only ever been in love
twice. That's more than most can shake
a stick at. So, never listen to your body,
it lies like it is pathological. With him
I swear we have only slept apart four
times since that first morning,
and those few nights without him
made me wonder what I did before,
and if this time, it wasn't what I didn't love
about him that made my body
uneasy, but the thought of the next morning
alone, which made my hands shake.
Until now I've always been for
a lack of lips on the face and body.
They have never given me quivers and shakes.
But when his mold with mine in the morning
it makes me think that maybe falling in love
wouldn't be a millennia better with him.
I swear it is not just your body that I love,
or the way your breathing shakes my bed in the morning
But that I can tell them, I was never happier before.
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 8:15 PM UTC
Teacup on the tabletop
With blossoms rising 'till they drop.
The buds are fresh but soon to bloom,
They see the gardener's sickle loom.
The porcelain birds and blossoms bend,
Their feathers reach up to pretend
To be a part of foliage green
With hues as deep as seas Aegean.
While painted plaster outlasts all,
Irregardless Spring or Fall,
Ceramic birds sing with a sigh
That flesh or stone, all men must die.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 7:00 AM UTC
Crease by crease
Line by line
Day by day
I built character,
I got older, a little more tattered by the stipulations of life
Time passed and I changed.
I met you
My shade of white seemed to brighten that day, you weaved through every crease and smudge on me, dissecting the defining moments of my life
You loved them all, you loved the imperfection of me, and for that i told you how the imperfections came to be
You touched me without laying a finger on my body
You lit a fire inside of me that has embers still glowing hot
And I know it's inevitable that this can't last forever
I just hope it outlasts me-
but if not-
it's beautiful if just for a moment.
Because I'm paper, no matter who tries to flatten me out and smooth me straight, they'll see the ways you touched me, I'll never be the same.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 1:29 AM UTC
I do not desire to control the world, I aim much higher, mastery of oneself, my soul. That's the meaning of life. Who would I be to deny deserving people of my love, my praises? All people are worth that, I've come to Earth to realize this. I just want to help. I just want to be helped. I just want to be whole, my soul I throw down on the ground in humility, thats my collateral. For arrogance see's no fault. Where there is no faults there are lies. If God is love and God is truth, I just wanna love God so I can love me and love you. If I couldn't see lessons for what they are I'd be miserable. If I couldn't learn to stretch my patience and strength I wouldn't be limber. It's the flexible tree that bends and doesn't break. Let my sanity and love for myself be the main stay that outlasts every man lifetimes over. That allows me to nurse them back to health when they have fallen, for every sorry *** is a heart broken and fumbling for a semblance of that feeling of acceptance. I am the essence of compassion as long as you reach my love will follow, I was born of Great Mother energy, I am strong, yet this is Earth where I need a warrior. His stealth, lessons in control, patience and acceptance. He needs a queen who feeds him back, she needs a King to stay loyal to her energy for it will always intuit them in the right direction. Together with his protection they are the compass. Should she have grit and he have clear vision they are a team to never be had, they will build a reach into the Heavens where children thrill to slide back into Earthly existence without a care as to how it might hurt them, when you're working for a dream team, what's a few scratches..
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 12:22 AM UTC
nothing is foreseen
like the past... it outlasts the future
and no one lives long enough
to know for sure.
and then there's amnesia.
a suite of empty rooms
you
came from -
and all
all
the invisible deeds
of your god
with a margin of error
the width of your
conviction.
a mote of bobbing
apples, made of
smoke.
around a castle
with a rook
made of
bones.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
"Poetry Makes Nothing Happen..."
The New is Confusion.
Embrace it and be baffled.
Give a nod to the absurdists
among us who demand illusion.
That engenders a reality.
Satire cannot compete
with rampant trumpery.
Poets who marry politics
produce stillborn tracts
whose topics will be
forgotten in a week.
In the theme park of words,
they are the talking dead.
This pig wallow of blame
leaves no hands clean.
History's a house that burns
too quickly for choosing sides
or taking detailed notes.
Accept the tangle of Truths.
Nothing outlasts everything.
Never sell out to the moment.
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 1:17 PM UTC
Angel take your breath now and blast the trumpet's rage to tear at the walls. Red chord crumble the tone, abandoned sorrows and crashing stones, defeated army of no one marching no where alone. Cold sweat, pale skin, cold sins to atone, in the arms of grace, of flesh and bone, and a kiss that outlasts time healing time after time.
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 12:43 AM UTC
His voice eases my skin, fingers shadow
Inch, inch, inching, how much? Elephant eyes
Hidden behind hair, scattered strewn fabric.
Tangled mess of limbs, nothing outlasts weather.
You’re not my last and you’re not my first.
So don’t call don’t text don’t be what you think you need to be
I don’t know if it’s you or me but it might as well be you because I don’t feel so hot
I’m here and only your body is
I urge to illicit the utmost joy your hands itch at the thought
of touching me.
my heart hurts and I don’t have the up
why
up
up up up up up up
It’s simply down down down downdowndown
down
down
down
down
down
down
down
down
d(own)
down
down
down
down
down
down
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 1:43 AM UTC