Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"outrunning" poems
(1674.) I have desired, and I have been desired; But now the days are over of desire, Now dust and dying embers mock my fire; Where is the hire for which my life was hired? Oh vanity of vanities, desire! Longing and love, pangs of a perished pleasure, Longing and love, a disenkindled fire, And memory a bottomless gulf of mire, And love a fount of tears outrunning measure; Oh vanity of vanities, desire! Now from my heart, love's deathbed, trickles, trickles, Drop by drop slowly, drop by drop of fire, The dross of life, of love, of spent desire; Alas, my rose of life gone all to prickles,-- Oh vanity of vanities, desire! Oh vanity of vanities, desire; Stunting my hope which might have strained up higher, Turning my garden plot to barren mire; Oh death-struck love, oh disenkindled fire, Oh vanity of vanities, desire!
0
14.3k
Soeur Louise De La Misericorde
GUNS Tanning Karate Outrunning storms on 40 Outlasting my compatriots full of toxins Yawning after afternoon Delight and coffees. I'm going to miss her like hell When I expatriate, Her and these simple road signs.
0
Dec 22, 2011
Dec 22, 2011 at 2:40 AM UTC
GUNS Tanning Karate
obviously to think and enjoy it you have to turn your mind into a mollusc in an oyster shell, slow... slow... (yawn)... slower... then you suddenly get electrocuted! boom! now you're thinking, you're not as tense as a running cheetah, hard rock heart muscle, not too eager on karaoke of karate, you're the tortoise outrunning achilles; because the brain enables such functioning, it's not exactly an eager heart in the university of the body - and why is it that domestic life has completely succumbed to the gratifications of chemistry with toothpaste and bleach and other cleaning materials; i wouldn't be against doping athletes, i'd tell them to embrace it... let's synthesise another world record sprint in the olympics, because an analysis would mean talking about 9.58 / 9.51... and that would be as interesting as looking at the rosetta stone for clarification of ancient egyptian: owl, big fish, little fish carbohydrates boxed; and still a flea could outrun you, a flea, yeah, never mind the cheetah.
0
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 5:46 AM UTC
big fish, little fish, cardboard box (kevin & perry)
Spirituality without religion, politics without opinion My knowing soul blinks into the ebbing light Outrunning the plodding clockwork: My inner intrepid sprints into the hazy night All at once, the arc slits the velveteen, The searchlights are pounding Their harsh silence crashes in my ears, My beatnik – she’s drowning The magician holds a rope ladder Spun of parotted truths and ink print thoughts: My knowing soul blinks, And stays its lonely course
0
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 6:24 AM UTC
Wander(lost)
like a hot-wheel guided by a holy hand above, he makes impossible feats as if the car creates the road, his free hand is just as busy making fanatic gestures to guide scrambled linguistics or it rests out the window seeking a courtship with the wind clasping the door handle, wide-eyed the passenger rides safely adjacent to Fear, but at every turn Momentum carries Fear deep into the heart where its is pumped via veins, icing the body with awe inspiring visions. Visions controlled by the last true American Driver. He drives like only a thief can, poised by paranoia, pure thrill achieved only through the drive, race or getaway. in a past life, Neal was a great Outlaw outrunning potbelly sheriffs to plump on the saddle to rival the great horsemen of their day he’d chase trains down, taming and taunting them with speed and skill. or perhaps he was a horse himself. a terrific thoroughbred bluegrass fed. tritting trotting his way to a Triple Crown. trainers fed him Benzedrine to gage the beast. they feared he would run through the finish line and straight across the country like a maniacal madman looking for the last true road
0
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 9:22 PM UTC
Ode to Neal Cassady
And you think no one will know to put change in this cup because it is empty. The rain hitting the paper of it doesn’t sound the same as the clinking coins of yesterday. A child skips across the bridge, outrunning her raincoat, ahead of mother, does one and then another double take because she does not want her raincoat anyway, wants to feel water bead on skin, she falls back and takes it from mother’s outstretched hands and tosses it to the folded ones of the man. She has one pound to spend today, mother may I? No. Mother, why? You watch her little hands ball into fists, her eyes cloud with mist that melts into the rain. You watch mother open a door, watch a wind tunnel batter the chandelier ornaments, they clink like wind chimes or coins. The child safely inside, mother’s eyes glare back, fear without reason, they shout I want that raincoat back.
0
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
london street
I write still to show The flaws I've corrected Before I must go Here's some I've perfected I’m breakable bones My weakness is real You can crush them with stones But my spirit is steel I've howled depressions With lone wolf confide I've roared at oppressions With lion king pride I rose unforgiving From indifferent graves To haunt those unliving As apathy's slaves I council with silence Keep quiet rapport With deafening violence Of thoughts waging war I’m pop country's menace Funk you profanity Spit-venom vengeance And breakdowns of sanity I’ve sung innuendos Love's chorus revised By symphonic crescendos Two beats harmonized I’ll never stop trying To save this blue sphere Our mother is crying Apocalypse tears I move hyperactive My sprinting brain sped Beyond the distractive Outrunning my dread I’m tempests emerging Typhoons kept at bay And now my storm surging Will blow you away I’ve fearlessly gazed Upon Grim's complexion The hell that was raised Was just my reflection I channel my hate As my anger stream grows Into rivers irate Then tranquility flows I form nations in clouds Above law and border No star-spangled shrouds In my higher world order I’m heat-seeker lines Poetic napalms Metaphor landmines And ticking rhyme bombs I've warped my perceptions And force-choking grips   And Death Star conceptions From jedi mind trips And I’ll leave you assured My defense will not yield Until peace is ensured And these wounds have all healed Incurred as the ward Of my muses concealed Now commanding a horde Of the furies revealed I have severed accord With the fates I have sealed   I've matured and endured On this life battlefield With this pen as my sword And this pain as my shield For I am the lord Of the words that I wield
0
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 1:31 AM UTC
A Writer's Eulogy
I write still to show The flaws I've corrected Before I must go Here's some I've perfected I’m breakable bones My weakness is real You can crush them with stones But my spirit is steel I've howled depressions With lone wolf confide I've roared at oppressions With lion king pride I rose unforgiving From indifferent graves To haunt those unliving As apathy's slaves I council with silence Keep quiet rapport With deafening violence Of thoughts waging war I’m pop country's menace Funk you profanity Spit-venom vengeance And breakdowns of sanity I’ve sung innuendos Love's chorus revised By symphonic crescendos Two beats harmonized I’ll never stop trying To save this blue sphere Our mother is crying Apocalypse tears I move hyperactive My sprinting brain sped Beyond the distractive Outrunning my dread I’m tempests emerging Typhoons kept at bay And now my storm surging Will blow you away I’ve fearlessly gazed Upon Grim's complexion The hell that was raised Was just my reflection I channel my hate As my anger stream grows Into rivers irate Then tranquility flows I form nations in clouds Above law and border No star-spangled shrouds In my higher world order I’m heat-seeker lines Poetic napalms Metaphor landmines And ticking rhyme bombs I've warped my perceptions And force-choking grips   And Death Star conceptions From jedi mind trips And I’ll leave you assured My defense will not yield Until peace is ensured And these wounds have all healed Incurred as the ward Of my muses concealed Now commanding a horde Of the furies revealed I have severed accord With the fates I have sealed   I've matured and endured On this life battlefield With this pen as my sword And this pain as my shield For I am the lord Of the words that I wield
Continue reading...
76
What I wouldn't give to go back to the time, When all I wanted was to be the leader of the line, When none of my friends tried to pressure me into crime, When my lyrics didn't even have to rhyme, Well now guess what, we're all grown up, Realities checks and balances tend to make me say **** A word that before I barely even knew the meaning, Now has become something you might hear me screaming, Please, let me go back to when we only drank juice, When "smoking a fatty" was outrunning a fat dude, When a gun was just a tool in a video game, When you only paper-cut, it wasn't to relieve pain, When nobody got killed over being called gay, Man, I wanna teleport back to Pre-K..
0
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 6:26 PM UTC
The Time
They want us marching to the sound of fear, Footsteps dull, thudding in-time with one another, Eyes always fixed on the horizon, Searching for a sun that always lies just too below to see. We cannot go back; Nighttime has already fallen And we march ever forward, chasing sunlight or outrunning darkness. We are never sure which. The stars are no longer the pinpricks that show us a glimpse of Heaven Poking through the blanket of vast, lonely nothingness. They have mutated into the eyes of our enemies, And they surround us and outnumber us a million to one. They want us to move forward, but no matter how far we march, We are followed by more and more eyes, twinkling and menacing. Black silhouettes of trees stand against indigo skies, Swaying so erratically in the wind that we swear they're chasing us. March faster than the trees, faster than the stars' light can travel. March faster than the sound of the war drums can reach our panicking ears. They are here. I can hear the drums. Can you hear the sound of drums?
0
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 8:41 AM UTC
City War-Drums
Fear. Has picked up my trail Is looking to find me. Fear. He's right on my tail He's coming to bind me. I run through the night I'm looking behind me. With no one in sight I'm running to find me. Where would I go? How would I get there? Will I ever come back? Would anyone care? I'm outrunning fear Running to find me Who will come near And help me come find me. Out of nowhere it strikes me I fall to the ground Out of nowhere it fights me  From pain do I drown Away from the pain I go and I swim But what will I gain  If I actually win. I'm running away  But there's something I lack I know I can't stay But do I have to go back? 8/3/13
0
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 12:16 AM UTC
Running to Find Me
Tic talk lunatic, walking creepy and scary. Romantic click unlock with no knocking, too sleepy to carry The shovel. This shovel. The shovel is very heavy like a rock, makes it harder to bury realistic-tic in time, outrunning the clock. And to talk so simplistic is stunning; we left in shock. Come write outright, you're right. Come right out, write your right. Come write outright your right. For some succumb without rite read out to right from being outright far from the right to play being dumb. So it's mumble along, or remain under thumb. We both know to be humble is wrong, when you're numb. Come right out, write you're right. Stumbling, shout insight; incite doubt, crumbling. In slight drought, the sun found dead the unfounded site gets ahead. I am astounded by the blood being shed, when it sounded like the flood all along was simply dread. Everything is all inside your head. But that was wrong, I limply said. But you were strong. I see instead that I belong back in my bed, to track a song I wrote in red before it's dead. And there I bled. While I said, Everything is all inside your head.
0
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 11:17 PM UTC
VULTURE
I can’t get to sleep Because my brain over thinks
 I wish I could shrink it
 For a night at least, Just close my eyes and drift off 
 But my mind is racing Steadily chasing The thoughts overcoming me, The thoughts keep outrunning me I wish I was with you I can't help but miss you I try to tell myself otherwise Keep piling lies on lies I wish the lies were true I don’t know why I want you Alone the sleep won’t come But you’re not coming either
0
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 9:35 AM UTC
Tears on my pillow
Numbed spines, turn-table minds of froth and iron, we shook- Holding the flashlight while he wrenched at engine and rubber in the rain. Ward of the physical touch. When it wasn't too wet, we'd paint the windshield to match infinity then get in and drive. Drive, just go! As we Implode. Or lie in feilds. How many they are, numerous as stars, grassbeds sprinkled with violets and clover. -So similar. So same. The roads (we'd race, tires screeching, screaming, outrunning, false) and clouds that look like bedroom windows. Anything's better than home when you don't know you're sick.
0
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 1:14 AM UTC
If lost is contagious
If you stop for too long you give your past a chance to catch up with you and it will try eating you alive. I’ve been moving for so long that when I stop it hits me like a tsunami of regret. It tries to swallow me whole and take me under. But the thing about dreadful pasts, and bitter memories is that they make you stronger, better, faster. And sometimes you can outrun them.
0
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC
Outrunning
There is a futility towards the external, that which does not allow result. The purple flower flutters as peace in pieces for the eyes to consume. All its power lies within living canal and tunnel, within the glories we do not see. All its mysteries are within the slowing down of worldly rhythm under thumb and neck and wrist. Its seeds and its seeds’ seedlings wait on paused condition. Under such rule, these pulses murmur and whisper over timed time, dividing as they roam such a mass. These beats halved and halved again, like footsteps slowed to the walk of dirges’ decrescendos. Suddenly there is the lifting, the heightening unknown, unwanted, the plastic bag over the brain, the sharp and climbing breath that scales too lofty uncontrolled unwarranted and rebellious, soon arrested under hand and heart, unable to meet such stimulation, it, without a hope. The flower consumed is the fighter on cue. There is no keeping it, the speed of paralysis outrunning, overcoming the only home such a heart ever knew, now shelled.
0
Mar 13, 2011
Mar 13, 2011 at 8:24 PM UTC
By Monkshood
Walks through the Halls Noises of norm throughout Footsteps fall softly Listening Passing the wooden door Heart quickens Tears fill sea colored eyes Steps continue past Glances to the walls If they could speak Presses a bare ear to the stone Wondering at the secrets it keeps Fingers clasping Wringing together Thoughts cloud the brain Images flash before her eyes Covering ears Willing it to stop Not wanting to know Turning Fleeing Outrunning the sound Seen from the window White silk billows behind the path she takes He watches Laughing Knowing she knows Eyes reflect evil His lips mimic the eyes with a sneer He knows that she knows The secrets the walls keep No one can escape Written By: Niyahlove
0
Jan 12, 2010
Jan 12, 2010 at 12:47 PM UTC
Walls
A disturbance in the mirror the sea a shattering gray a sadness so heavy and unrelenting never to go away >>>>>> Running so fast, so fast outrunning the past Slammed into a blinding light, a brick wall hopped aboard a train take me far from this pain the emotion swelled like a wave in the ocean >>>>>> near-far, high-low, up above-down below sickening emotion hope like feathers------easily carried away by the wind I danced like fire and my voice was carried by the wind I walked like summer and crashed like the ocean Believe me, love, I never wanted to be left broken.
0
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 10:32 AM UTC
Resonance
Here's to the New Year For one filled with hope Where we conquer the fear With which we couldn't before cope. To a year full of promises we mean to keep To finally getting a good nights sleep. Here's to a new dawn One filled with a brighter sun A day to face with out a yawn And filled with joy and fun. To a day for us to be reborn After being battered and forlorn. Here's to the new life And the promises to change To persevering through last year's strife And outrunning terror's range. To all the things that caused us pain That they might at last bring forth gain. Here's to the New Year Filled with great unknowns To have many days of cheer And a light to us shown. Here's to the hope of a better tomorrow One filled with hope instead of last years sorrows. Here's to the future me To never forget the past That I might always see How God has built me to last. Here's to a New Year filled with laughter And to living life happily ever after. 1/3/14
0
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 12:36 AM UTC
Here's to the New Year
I've counted them all, five in total. Five hundred perhaps five million more after that. I've counted them to get them solid... Solid for to eat them up. Line them up like peas on a spoon. I've run from them. Fast, and my feet burns underneath. I've run to India. I've run to Mars. They key to outrunning is not to look back. There, I just did. I've colored them with periwinkle and yellow moon-glow crayons. So carefully in the lines, I stayed. Bright cheerful hues to banish out the dark. (You can't color out the dark.) Oh, I've faced them, ****** foolish. Face them, they'll multiply. like a drop of water expanding into a bucket of water into a creek of water into a river of water into a monsoon. Face them and you give them life. Now you'll know they're real. Now you'll know that it holds hands with what can be. Slick and satisfied, devouring mirth. On it's back I climb stealthy- ride it like a crocodile, it can't lick you way up there satisfied smile... Oh, lover lover, You can't bite what you can't reach. sahn 10.11.14
0
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 12:04 AM UTC
Pursued
Fished till the last possible moment approaching storm is a formidable opponent bounding from wave to wave I skip. speed is king on this trip. lightning and thunder growl behind me, rain chases like a cheetah quickly I see the point and make the turn. cut wide and around the sand bar I burn. under the dock we go to hide, from the storm, the boat and I.
0
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 10:51 AM UTC
Outrunning the Storm
Take me back to the beginning In love with everything and everyone Living with my soul thrown into the wind Slurring my words over the phone Sleeping with nature And kissing flowers Breathing clean and clear It was easier then More peaceful then Counting stars until they turned into clouds Outrunning due dates Take me there
0
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 12:19 PM UTC
Take me there
You were a whirlwind of moments A tornado that swept in and left Faster than all the destruction behind could ever prove Quicker than I could ever stop There was no chance in outrunning you You reached the finish line Before I could even find the track You don't know though, and that's a shame You'll always be my favorite disaster
0
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 4:08 PM UTC
Favorite Disaster
Oftentimes I feel Like I'm stuck You drift away Move to another day And on this plane I'm struck By pain like cold hard steel And you stop drifting You start walking Running Outrunning reality And me? I'm Stuck.
0
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 2:28 AM UTC
Leave Me
When young we look ahead, ignoring the mirror to the road behind, full throttle forwards, pushing obstacles aside, eye on the prize, fulfilling parent's unmet desires. When the road repeats and we run out of stimulus, we risk a glance, to remind ourselves what we left behind. Often, it's only then that we are able to understand the places we once inhabited, or passed through. It's our first chance to have an objective view on the landscapes behind. Landscapes we couldn't read when we travelled within them. Dodging between gigantic problems stacked against us. Ducking projectiles and outrunning stones thrown in anger, indifference, or sometimes vicious amusement. Our focus, only on the chaotic random patterns we must weave to survive. Running at the limits, burning potent fuel, stressing to the edge, in order to make it through. Often, when we take a moment to check the rear view mirror, we can't help but marvel that we ever made it out.
0
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 7:52 AM UTC
Rough notes for a potential poem: