"outstreched" poems
Fanatics fixed their eyes upon
The screen to cheer their team
The mood there in the air was tense
Tricolor seemed out of steam
The clock was counting down
The time was drawing nigh
Doomed to lose and head on home
Bid Russia their goodbye
An errant shot deflected out
Gave them one last chance
To score a goal and prance about
Show off their famous dance
From the corner, the ball soared in
A hero rose above
Mina smacked it with his head
And won his country's love
England shocked to see the win
Snatched right from their grasp
Colombia delirious
Successful at last gasp
And thus the game was sent along
Into the overtime
Two periods were played to nil
Two teams full in their prime
Penalties would now decide
Which team would advance
The locals glued to their tvs
The nation in a trance
Falcao scores! Kane as well!
Cuadrado, Rashford too!
Muriel then strikes one home
Tricolor up three to two!
Ospina blocks the next one
Hypes up the frenzied crowd
But Uribe hits the crossbar
And the silence echoes loud
Trippier knots it up again
We're down to final shots
Bacca fails to get his through
Past Pickford's valiant swat
Fate rests upon this final kick
Well placed with perfect spin
Just past Ospina's outstreched hands
Dier seals the win
The cafeteros reel from shock
No sign of jubilation
But still the crowd, crushed in defeat
Show their appreciation
Colombia eliminated
We give them all a hand
And though their World Cup here is done
I'm now their biggest fan
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 2:58 AM UTC
Read me, in the elixir of life,
have a slice of duality pie.
Behind lined ivory,
is someone you call you
and I call me.
Read me, in a tear of sadness,
orbs of memories stored
in genetic madness.
Read me, in the dog-eared page
the leaf that quiets my mind
and makes me whole again.
Read me, in my racing thoughts
bipolar existence is more difficult
than not.
Read me, in the grip of melancholy
revisit the wrist scars
of folly.
Read me, in the breastplate of armor
the era of my belief
in chivalry and honor.
Read me, in the time of sepia
tradition fueled
by dreams and dementia.
Read me, in the tip of a candles flame
passions burn bright,
yet I wear no others name.
Read me, at the foot of an altar
murmuring prayers, "...lead my paths..."
or I will falter.
Read me, in an open palm
outstreched, open to you
and calm.
Read me, in the fools smile
the joy will last
only a while.
Read me, in the clear walkway
steps number
all my days.
Read me, in the shattered glass
anger subsides
down to simmer and it will pass.
Read me, in the inkwell bright
the pen has punctured me
felled by might.
Read me, in the moonlight there
lie to me,
tell me you care.
Jun 5, 2012
Jun 5, 2012 at 6:25 PM UTC
This year I vow to change for the better but remain constant in my being. This year I vow to embrace this body, this skin, this figure, the only one I will ever have. I vow to love myself before I do anyone else. This year I vow to listen. I vow to be open ears and heart. This year I vow to be patient, to be still and trusting. I will not let the past spoil expectation. I will be as hopeful as I am eager for opportunity. This year I vow to not take health for granted, to appreciate the existence of it when good and accept the challenge when it is not. This year I vow to let nothing break me. Not disease, depression, or person. I will not fall victim to weakness. I will do my best to be as human as I can possibly be while also being understanding of human flaw. This year I vow to not judge. I vow to welcome the unknown with outstreched arms and a wider perspective. This year I will not hold on to mistakes with closed fists. I will let go of what is not meant to stay. This year I will try and do all of the things I've sworn I'd do a million times before. This year I will try again. This year I will try my best.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 6:09 PM UTC
From the boardwalk I cast a view from weather beaten rail.
To ocean erased shore.
In a vision of two lovers often we can't recall.
A time's past in a more forward view.
Im at the end.
A chairs stance and a rope's hold to neck.
Smoke ring's the night's in my failures I've bled my sorrow's
dry.
Saltwater from eye's a overview from a scrapbook's
hell.
This prison I created harbour's my wall's of minds design.
Like a beggar most choose to ignore.
I wish if only you to care without touch but of spark.
And mother natures soul.
Sand of glass frayed the edges of a weathertorn manuscript
of what never was.
Let me die in memories eternal embrace.
No hand outstreched.
Rejection of existance so often home I've come
to reconize as this place.
Sep 25, 2011
Sep 25, 2011 at 8:24 PM UTC
The future is not orange.
It's the colour of faded newspapers,
Dying embers, Buttery moonscapes and
Concrete scars.
It reeks of chip shop oil and skidmarked tattoos.
of Rotting flesh and accelerant
fumes.
The future comes with arms outstreched,
with daggers in your back.
with comforting palms.
The future tastes of soft toys, lost in time,
of thick cut white with butter
of goat.
It tastes of blessings once before.
and with luck, tastes once more.
Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 1:27 PM UTC
Icy fingers that touch your thoughts from a distance let you know in an instant that it was me and I was there. There, where I lingered freely in your inner most secret feelings, twisted them into doubts and fears. Echoed in the sound of your tears as they ran down your face in their race to the ground, slamming violently down without a sound without a sound. So draw near! I am the lover hater you fear yet hold dear. The secret that you knew all along, containing all the right answers gone horribly wrong. In a song I have kept you lost in the promise and hope of passion so lasting, delivering emotional lashing after lashing after lashing for the taste of tears that I savor. For I am the dream breaker, the beautiful monster who decieves to recieve that which I do not deserve. Keeping my song bird locked in the cage, break away and escape the fate! Run fleet of foot fleeing from these outstreched arms of an empty being until you reach the place where you were meant to be, get away from me and sing the songs you were meant to sing.
Apr 30, 2012
Apr 30, 2012 at 12:08 AM UTC
Note that when I say boy
I say it with purpose
I say boy
Because only men know how to hurt with intention
And you never did
I knew it then
And I know it now
You were too good for me
You are the glowing sun on a california morning
And I am a rainy dark seattle afternoon
The only time my city ever saw blue skies and sunshine
Was when you were in it
You made me laugh
On days when the weight of the world fell on top of me
You always made things light again
I am stubborn
I always have been
I was a bull that you never tried to tame
You never asked me to slow down
Only waited patiently with open arms
For me to come to a halt
I was rough
I would pluck and pull at your thorns until you reached your breaking point
You never did though
And in my moments of panic,
All you wanted to do
Was comfort me and try to understand
I'd push you away before you could even attempt to
I remember laying in bed
Your arms outstreched and caring
And me refusing to give in
Because of some grudge I was still holding on to
We fought a lot
But every time you were the first to forgive
I mastered the art of crossed arms and silence
While you sat laughing out of frustration
Because I was so ******* ridiculous
I picked at you until you bled
Waiting for you to hurt me back
But you never did
Only men know how to hurt with intention
And hurt was the one thing you were incapable of doing
I don't think you could have
Even if you wanted to
You were the first one who didn't try to break me
And I guess I was just expecting you to
I could say I only treated you this way because I didn't know love could be stable
But I think the real reason
Was that I feared if you knew
How great you really are
You would leave
I think the real reason
I treated you so poorly
Was that I was afraid of losing you
I want you to know
That I never intended to hurt you
I know now
I should have loved you better
I should have loved you
The way you loved me.
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
outstretched,open,eager
smooth home wet
collection palms
grace
timid
napes waxing
for
accurate devotions
broach bearing
pink garden
oracular bemoan
sudden winter spring
erupts cold
reds glory on her neck
the sad glimmer
of shimmerlips
i want
those they(soft oral)
***** spun dangerous captivation
midnight dawns magic
May 14, 2010
May 14, 2010 at 12:22 PM UTC
You sit all alone
In a place that may be familiar
watching the world around you, for you are far too
timid.
Pretty people with wicked souls
Blemished hearts rotting with slime
spew their words at you, but you don't stop them
shy.
Your heart tells you it hurts
And that maybe it will **** you one day
but you hush your organs in your chest
quiet.
Until one day, you explode from the inside
Thoughts bursting forth like steaming water from the pipes
they cringe and fight their through, but you are not
empty.
You've listened all of your life
Hoping and hoping for an outstreched hand
now, it is time to make your own destiny, full of glorious and wonderful
courage
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC
The darkness here is thick and cold
Im living a life but I'm not bold
I sit here scared
Scared of my life
Scared for my life
Scared of where my life will lead
There is no light
For it has ran
My life's not bright
Its boring, bland
So here I am where ever this is
In a place of darkness, fear, no bliss
Its dark in here
Its cold in here
I look around
can't see the ground
where am I
Then I see a flicker of light
I come closer
Its suddenly bright
In the darkness
In the cold
Where am I
Then the brightness fades away
Im stuck again where i was before
In the darkness
In the cold
Where am I
My skin is burning
I'm freezing cold
I want my pain to end
In the darkness
In the cold
Where am I
But then all a sudden
In front of me
I happen to see
A figure a shadow
Of who it is I'm meant to be
In the darkness
In the cold
Where am I
This figure reaches
Outstreched hand
Gives me a light
A torch in hand
In the darkness
In the cold
Where am I
I thought the torch
Would warm me up
But the fire's cold
The wood will not scorch
In the darkness
In the cold
Where am i
I look around
Now able to see
I see no color
Only dark empathy
In the darkness
In the cold
Where am I
Im all alone
My feelings drone
I feel like I'm
A life unknown
In the darkness
In the cold
Where am I
I live my life
In the darkness here
But no one truly knows my fear
In the darkness
In the cold
Where am I
I fear a lot of what is to come
And where my thoughts will be
Im lying here my thoughts all dead
Then I remember my life I dread
In the darkness
In the cold
Where am I?
The answer is
I'm in my mind
Alone and unforgiving
My mind is dark
Not easily lit
And if a light
Can manage to shine
Its only for a bit
My life is shattered, torn, and cruel
I feel like I'm in a standing duel
A duel I cant win because if my sin
Because of my lack of sustaining joy
So here I remain
In the darkness
In the cold
Stuck inside my mind
Please someone
Make it end
An end to all my grief
Only then will you be
Someone I can love
A sincere and true friend.
So please my friend
Be a light
A light that will last
Or else my head and I
We may just have to never see
An end to this dark sickness
For it to end is what I plea
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 1:56 AM UTC
when it rains,
i sometimes stick my
arm outside
the confines of my room,
close my eyes,
and try counting
the number of kisses
the rain makes
with my outstreched arm;
i never keep count,
i just keep thinking
of the attiring
trees and other plants
with my own,
inverted set of lungs.
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 8:42 PM UTC
Pain is my twisted love
leading me through life
believing that I can be all I can
I find consolement in her,
I find meaning
I try to live without her
but I always seem to find my way back
into her outstreched arms
held there waiting for me
May 4, 2010
May 4, 2010 at 5:51 PM UTC
Winter brings
falling puffs of weightless white
gliding effortlessly down
to the ground
pausing briefly on the wings
of swaying outstreched needles
from the pine,
the winter wooden warden,
trustee of frozen forest.
Arctic winds
seize hold the fragile snowflakes
plucking, snatching, and clutching
the flimsy
whisps of still independent
drops of moisture from the air,
forcing them
down, down, down to the icy
surface of the silent earth.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
Steady hands are something I've never known
Trying hard as hell to hold my weapon straight
But a shot in the dark is a shot in the dark
Wherever the bullet hits, c'est le vie, that's fate
Are you lurking in the shadows in the corner of my good eye?
Waiting to catch the bullet on its flight
Or do you have your back turned unaware
That this little chance I'm taking might take your life?
Steady hands are something I've never known
Trying hard as hell to let these words ring out
Like a shot in the dark, but still a shot in the dark
Scared to scare you with what these words will be spoken aloud
Will you ever eye me through the scope of my outstreched arms?
Sometimes Eden ain't as great as it's made out
And although the world is cold and bitter to you
Just know for this moment you're all I dream about
Oct 5, 2011
Oct 5, 2011 at 3:17 PM UTC
If crimson beads form and drip from the outstreched fingertips of my soul,
I'll try to remember.
The rose only ****** in self defense,
and pain stabs the heart in hope to be felt forever.
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 6:29 PM UTC
Thoughts of pure rage and eternal sadism are locked behind penatrating blue eyes, intentions cruel and filled with a darkened sense of immorality. Slowly yet surely it seeps deeper within the heart, consuming all kindness and sympathy that the soul has left to offer. Scaring the mind of the ****** as it fights this curse. Day after day, the haunted shadows creep closer, their fingers outstreched as they attempt to capture her heart and mind. She screams, but the cotton of the pillow poors into her throat muffling her to a soft whimper. Her body pulses, twiching but only in minimal movements. No signs of struggle, but inside she sees it all, the blood, the corpse, the weapon firmly grasped. By the end of this masterpiece, she drops her paintbrush, the blood running down her own body as her eyes open to the soft and warm sheets of the bed.
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 3:56 PM UTC
I wish I had the courage
When I last stood
In front of you
To tell you
And if I only could
Stand in front of you
One more time
On more moment
I would tell you
Not for your love
In return or to feel
This love that has burned
And consumed and haunted me
Both night and day
In dreams and fantasy
Pass from my lips to yours
Not to ****** your flesh
And remove your clothes
Rain my fingertips over your skin
Not to hear you whisper and moan
And shout under sheets
Not to claim your soul
Or your name
In that moment...
No
I want that moment
To reveal that this love
Smiles madly and lives completely
Feels impossibly and dances wildly
Lasts eternaly for the beauty
And perfection of the stars
And heavens and endless bliss
It finds in you
And against time and distance
And possiblity it will always stand
And burn with its hand outstreched
Should you want or desire
Or need
Or not
It will live and love
Alone or together
It exists only by the chance
And the luck of that
First moment when my
Heart knew it had always
Loved you
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 2:29 PM UTC
simple swing sunlight
glinting off tiny sparkling feet
the pure joy of wind and speed
rushed and slipping by through the hot summer
days. streams of shadows play and splash
around the busy feet, the small bodies
jump and swoop up and around the
flat cushion ground.
memories are made here, with mom
just an arm’s length away - and then -
woosh! soaring again, mouth with
six new teeth shouting in pure
moment and monuments of love and
fun cement themselves in this
flashbulb second:
imagine it with me, I’ve taken
you there: a girl in a pink
dress, the fluffs of her curls just
emerging from her soft head and wide
brown eyes, her smile suspended in
the air as she floats slowly forward
her mom, her source of love, arms
tan and strong that have held her and
kissed her tears away, outstreched
to meet the red plastic swing to push
again, to push again, and her daughter
enjoys this almost-flight. she never
wants it to end.
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 11:16 AM UTC
Visions of a searing pain heading straight for you, the oblivious.
Noght terrors and pro f etic dreams tossed to the way side with all the other so-called profetic doomsday losers. As the sword of thought touches your neck youd rather slip into non resistant subconciousness. Weak and inward looking masses of babies ******* life into thier wants and screaming for attention. The world of touch offers no deliverance. It distracts the soul. It blocks compassion and feeds greed. Power stoked by the few torture and consume the masses as they are cyphened into a must do way of living. Wake up get your freedom back by denouncing all you have and walk into an outstreched hand and collect the trapped, downloaders of destruction and walj together pay nothing use only what is fair and change the world. Disconnected from money and pain, enjoy true power and the gift of a simple life.
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 7:04 PM UTC
i have no intention in protecting the man,
i have an instrument i have to guard:
*Y
H H
W*
and that's it! but what of the initiation?
in making the symbol, as the rites
of catholics and the orthodox have shown
*forehead
left shoulder right shoulder
centre of rib-cage*
yes, the rib-cage salutation represent the heart...
the difference being:
1
4 3
2
which is catholic (protestants do not perform
this gesticulation) -
the orthodox arithmetic?
1
3 4
2
or how catholics don a wedding ring on
the right hand, on the ring finger -
while protestants don their wedding ring
on the left hand, on the ring finger...
the gesticulation hits a third alternative that
abandons protestant sensibility, due to the hay-chys
being placed outstreched:
to spell out the tetragrammaton
in the according sequence:
1
2 4
3
alternatively: the interchange of 2 with 4 and
4 with 2... depending on your copernican
argument of how to pin-point
n.e.w.s. (north east west south)
on a "flat earth" argument
when that's... really necessary when reading
a map, and needing to go from point a (genesis)
to point b (exodus);
i'm really surprised the orthodox volk do not
write from right to left,
like semites...
if they were truly orthodox
they'd imitate the semitic impression of writing
from right to left, rather than write
as the europeans do: from left to right.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 12:45 PM UTC
The Magical garden of life
I stand around and look at a far distant land of mystery with desire and walk towards a gate overlooking the hills high into the summer sky above my shoulders. A lady appears and calls me gestures to me with her hand drawing me closer to the gate of mystery and suprise l follow her through this golden coloured gate which reaches high into the summer sky and find a land of beauty enchated forest with rivers flowing down a step passage and flowers and light grows everywhere.
The lady stands and looks at me her posture look strange like a ghost like figure wearing clothing from the past of yesteryear. I reach out to touch her hand and my hand passes through her body and she smiles at me and slowly turns towards a wall near the the garden entrance and disapears from my sight like the ghost of despair and into a distant new land . I turn round and walk back into the beauty of this new found garden forest and wash my eyes with the water dripping down from the waterfall behind me .
I suddeny feel a sharp nudge in the corner of my back and l slowly turn around with fear in my body and the tears of sweat pour into my eyes the ghost lady has come back into my path she stands over me holding her outstreched hands protecting me in this beautiful garden of pleasure. I stand a gaze at the magnificent land and relax my body because l have found the true passion of life a beauty lost to life and a dream l never thought l would find.
written and produced by wayne mockler
copyright ownership wayne mockler
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 2:23 PM UTC
I stand tall,
Contorted,
But beautiful,
My shape weird,
But wise as an owl.
My limbs outstreched,
My roots deep,
I embrace the sky and the earth,
I have weathered many seasons,
For many reasons,
SPRING is my rebirth,
I bloom and bring colour,
SUMMER I am evergreen,
Give shade from the fiery sun,
AUTUMN I am dressed in a colourful gown,
Of gold, green, purple and brown,
Soon my leaves fall,
Dry and under people's feet they crackle.
WINTER I stand naked,
Snowflakes come to my aid,
They veil me from tip to toe,
A blanket of snow.
I am one of the ecosystem,
Life on earth with me rhyme and rhythm.
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 9:57 AM UTC