Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"oxygenated" poems
Deoxygenated blood flows from the body to the right side of the heart through the Vena Cava. From the Vena Cava to the Right Atrium. From the Right Atrium through the Tricuspid valves. Through the Tricuspid valves to the Right Ventricle. Up the Pulmonary Artery. Through the semi-luner valves. Out the pulmonary artery. To the lungs. Blood becomes Oxygenated Oxygenated blood flows from the lungs to the left side of the heart through the Pulmonary Vein. From the Pulmonary Vein to the Left Atrium. From the Left Atrium through the Bicuspid valves. Through the Bicuspid valves to the Left Ventricle. Up the Aorta. Through the semi-luner valves. Out the Aorta. Oxygenated blood is sent around the body. Blood becomes Deoxygenated Deoxygenated blood flows from the body to the right side of the heart through the Vena Cava........ SO If you tell me your heart is "literally broken" just don't. It isn't broken. It just hurts. It's just feels horrible. Painful. A feeling that hurts you and feels like your heart hurts so much that it's actually broken. But your heart doesn't actually hurt. It's just a feeling. The cycle stills goes on. It is still functioning. So, next time you feel your "heart breaking" and literally being "torn apart", Remember... Deoxygenated blood flows from the body to the right side of the heart through the Vena Cava. From the Vena Cava to the Right Atrium. From the Right Atrium through the Tricuspid valves. Through the Tricuspid valves to the Right Ventricle. Up the Pulmonary Artery. Through the semi-luner valves. Out the pulmonary artery. To the lungs. Blood becomes Oxygenated Oxygenated blood flows from the lungs to the left side of the heart through the Pulmonary Vein. From the Pulmonary Vein to the Left Atrium. From the Left Atrium through the Bicuspid valves. Through the Bicuspid valves to the Left Ventricle. Up the Aorta. Through the semi-luner valves. Out the Aorta. Oxygenated blood is sent around the body. Blood becomes Deoxygenated Deoxygenated blood flows from the body to the right side of the heart through the Vena Cava.............
0
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 5:39 PM UTC
The Heart (The pulmonary cycle)
Deoxygenated blood flows from the body to the right side of the heart through the Vena Cava. From the Vena Cava to the Right Atrium. From the Right Atrium through the Tricuspid valves. Through the Tricuspid valves to the Right Ventricle. Up the Pulmonary Artery. Through the semi-luner valves. Out the pulmonary artery. To the lungs. Blood becomes Oxygenated Oxygenated blood flows from the lungs to the left side of the heart through the Pulmonary Vein. From the Pulmonary Vein to the Left Atrium. From the Left Atrium through the Bicuspid valves. Through the Bicuspid valves to the Left Ventricle. Up the Aorta. Through the semi-luner valves. Out the Aorta. Oxygenated blood is sent around the body. Blood becomes Deoxygenated Deoxygenated blood flows from the body to the right side of the heart through the Vena Cava........ SO If you tell me your heart is "literally broken" just don't. It isn't broken. It just hurts. It's just feels horrible. Painful. A feeling that hurts you and feels like your heart hurts so much that it's actually broken. But your heart doesn't actually hurt. It's just a feeling. The cycle stills goes on. It is still functioning. So, next time you feel your "heart breaking" and literally being "torn apart", Remember... Deoxygenated blood flows from the body to the right side of the heart through the Vena Cava. From the Vena Cava to the Right Atrium. From the Right Atrium through the Tricuspid valves. Through the Tricuspid valves to the Right Ventricle. Up the Pulmonary Artery. Through the semi-luner valves. Out the pulmonary artery. To the lungs. Blood becomes Oxygenated Oxygenated blood flows from the lungs to the left side of the heart through the Pulmonary Vein. From the Pulmonary Vein to the Left Atrium. From the Left Atrium through the Bicuspid valves. Through the Bicuspid valves to the Left Ventricle. Up the Aorta. Through the semi-luner valves. Out the Aorta. Oxygenated blood is sent around the body. Blood becomes Deoxygenated Deoxygenated blood flows from the body to the right side of the heart through the Vena Cava.............
Continue reading...
50
Its in these waters, when I was merely a Parr Or as you might refer to me as a fry, This wise but young Brook Trout cruised the slow water with my kinfolk fry. Moving to and fro hiding among the biome vegetation The sunlight supported my living space and warmed my growth rings. I dart in and out of the oxygenated seams which help me flourish. Some days, I had to use stealth to outwit the pine marten and warblers, I shadowed the cattail and watched them fill their bellies with those around me. But I felt fate had a purpose for me to be something special. And When the time was right, I'd propel myself above the water into the night air. The large circle of orange light filled my eyes and the night sky was filled with luminary. I imagined what it must be like to live outside this riffle domain. This morning, through my refractory vision I spot some floating objects, And through an inherited sensory recall I can see these are hatching green Drakes. I immediately shoot to the surface and fill my stomach, then swim back to the undercut for cover. As the years pass by and maturity abounds,  I find my self settling in behind a large boulder Right at the tail out of the back eddy, providing me with an ample food supply. And it's here I prefer to live my life in the slow current, content and peaceful. And one day as I swam into the current seam, I spotted what appeared to be, A different looking bug with yellow belly,  so I make my move. He's not moving much so I decide to raise my head above the water line and sip. As I grab the hopper I start to slide back behind the boulder, When I feel a pinch, as if someone try's to pull me towards the surface I fight with all my might but this force proves to be stronger than I. It's now I realize a human reels me towards the shore line, and I'm fearful. This one called a human, grabs my tail and places his hand on my under belly. Pulling me from my home, he dislodges the hook from my mouth. I gasp for oxygen. He looks me over from nose to tail, smiles and says how beautiful I am. He looks me in the eye And says " This was a wonderful fight my friend, enjoy the rest of your life, He places me back in water, gently reviving me and finally lets me swim away. I dare to turn and look back at him for a moment and as he continues to watch me, I hear him say " I fish, knowing everyday on this stream is a gift."
0
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 3:59 PM UTC
The Tail Out - A Brook Trout Story
Its in these waters, when I was merely a Parr Or as you might refer to me as a fry, This wise but young Brook Trout cruised the slow water with my kinfolk fry. Moving to and fro hiding among the biome vegetation The sunlight supported my living space and warmed my growth rings. I dart in and out of the oxygenated seams which help me flourish. Some days, I had to use stealth to outwit the pine marten and warblers, I shadowed the cattail and watched them fill their bellies with those around me. But I felt fate had a purpose for me to be something special. And When the time was right, I'd propel myself above the water into the night air. The large circle of orange light filled my eyes and the night sky was filled with luminary. I imagined what it must be like to live outside this riffle domain. This morning, through my refractory vision I spot some floating objects, And through an inherited sensory recall I can see these are hatching green Drakes. I immediately shoot to the surface and fill my stomach, then swim back to the undercut for cover. As the years pass by and maturity abounds,  I find my self settling in behind a large boulder Right at the tail out of the back eddy, providing me with an ample food supply. And it's here I prefer to live my life in the slow current, content and peaceful. And one day as I swam into the current seam, I spotted what appeared to be, A different looking bug with yellow belly,  so I make my move. He's not moving much so I decide to raise my head above the water line and sip. As I grab the hopper I start to slide back behind the boulder, When I feel a pinch, as if someone try's to pull me towards the surface I fight with all my might but this force proves to be stronger than I. It's now I realize a human reels me towards the shore line, and I'm fearful. This one called a human, grabs my tail and places his hand on my under belly. Pulling me from my home, he dislodges the hook from my mouth. I gasp for oxygen. He looks me over from nose to tail, smiles and says how beautiful I am. He looks me in the eye And says " This was a wonderful fight my friend, enjoy the rest of your life, He places me back in water, gently reviving me and finally lets me swim away. I dare to turn and look back at him for a moment and as he continues to watch me, I hear him say " I fish, knowing everyday on this stream is a gift."
Continue reading...
32
your hair appears darker when wet. black, corded, thick as puzzlegrass. a companion in contrast to frosted cupcake blue eyes and incense burning in the ashtray. memories thrown in the laundry pile with the wet towel swirling upon your head. your smile bitter as asparagus, staining my ***** for the next two days. your frame soft and slender as balsa wood. I’d eat your air freshly oxygenated and bend you into an arc. the waves would split on your bow and shower my face wet dark corded thick as puzzlegrass. then from your finger the standard of a dove leaving olive branch in mouth into the frosted cupcake blue sky. a miracle in the eye of the waning storm.
0
Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 2:38 PM UTC
miracle
My room is quiet Blue curtains block out the world that lurks just outside Waiting to hurt me. 8 pm. I know that purple dusk is gathering outside my walls The same way the bruises in my heart threaten to eclipse the sun. I'm scared. I don't look at the veins showing under my skin because they Remind me too much of the indigo, under-oxygenated blood That spills too often from my arms, Reminds me of my father's face purple with rage When I told him I didn't think I was supposed to be In this body, wear these clothes, be this gender. 9pm. Navy skies peppered with stars I will not see again Purple pen writing apologies to my parents Heart pumping indigo, under-oxygenated blood too fast, Knows it doesn't have much time, Can't breathe, face purple, face blue, Can't breathe, dark vision, indigo stars, Can't breathe.
0
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
Blue & Purple
I want the hollow Cheeks. The full, adipose, smooth Lips. The white-boned, Pearls she calls Teeth. I want the bright, clean, Sun bleached Hair. The fine, sharpened, Ready for scratching, Spotless Nails. The refined, sculpted, Long, profiled Nose. I want gold to flake, Off my ageing, porous, dull, Skin. I want the protruding, Famished, angled Bones. I want the pumping, Arrhythmic Heart. The tired, hissing, Tar coated, smoker’s Lungs. The round, fleshy, Cellulite covered *** The motherly, but Childless plump ******* I want the barren, Bleeding, afflicted ****** I want the faint, Wispy, high-pitched, Call that she calls a Voice. The bruised, bulging, Porcelain polished, etched Knuckles. The wide, protruding, Ballooned up, dangling Hips. The numb, heavy, metal Flavored, gum bleeding Mouth. I want the skewed, Backwards, lost Pedals she calls Feet. I want the hearing less, Wax, pus covered, Ears. The lost dull, lifeless Dumbed down, blue Eyes. I want to be her, All of them, and none. I want to be lost, Unwilling, tame, voiceless, Mindless, childless, Sexless, man-less. I want to be her, but I Can’t. I cannot because I am Thought burdened, fat, Violent, screaming, Child laden, broken nosed, Coarse. I cannot because dirt Flakes off my young Skin. Because my heart pumps, Oxygenated blood, At a steady, rhythmic Beat. My voice baritones, Deep, bottomless, Whispers. I sit on flat, concave Muscle. My lungs breathe, Strong, fresh, smog-less Air. Yellow stained, grainy, calcium-ridden Teeth. Dark, musty, greased Hair. I want to be her, But I won’t.
0
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 1:18 PM UTC
Femininity
I want the hollow Cheeks. The full, adipose, smooth Lips. The white-boned, Pearls she calls Teeth. I want the bright, clean, Sun bleached Hair. The fine, sharpened, Ready for scratching, Spotless Nails. The refined, sculpted, Long, profiled Nose. I want gold to flake, Off my ageing, porous, dull, Skin. I want the protruding, Famished, angled Bones. I want the pumping, Arrhythmic Heart. The tired, hissing, Tar coated, smoker’s Lungs. The round, fleshy, Cellulite covered *** The motherly, but Childless plump ******* I want the barren, Bleeding, afflicted ****** I want the faint, Wispy, high-pitched, Call that she calls a Voice. The bruised, bulging, Porcelain polished, etched Knuckles. The wide, protruding, Ballooned up, dangling Hips. The numb, heavy, metal Flavored, gum bleeding Mouth. I want the skewed, Backwards, lost Pedals she calls Feet. I want the hearing less, Wax, pus covered, Ears. The lost dull, lifeless Dumbed down, blue Eyes. I want to be her, All of them, and none. I want to be lost, Unwilling, tame, voiceless, Mindless, childless, Sexless, man-less. I want to be her, but I Can’t. I cannot because I am Thought burdened, fat, Violent, screaming, Child laden, broken nosed, Coarse. I cannot because dirt Flakes off my young Skin. Because my heart pumps, Oxygenated blood, At a steady, rhythmic Beat. My voice baritones, Deep, bottomless, Whispers. I sit on flat, concave Muscle. My lungs breathe, Strong, fresh, smog-less Air. Yellow stained, grainy, calcium-ridden Teeth. Dark, musty, greased Hair. I want to be her, But I won’t.
Continue reading...
95
Shade giving Sentinels Custodians of the environment Infusing oxygenated life Extending canopies of bliss! A fine interplay of synthesising solar photons Food factories to the plant Self sustainable gifts from the Almighty God! Bemoan Human apathy Fragile relations with humankind Exponential signs of human induced Ecocide! Oh Humankind! Oh Humankind! Wake up to a Nature’s clarion call Embrace Mother Earths Sentinels Tree Huggers of the World Unite in Unison and Eco harmony Save Trees! Save Trees! Cherish God’s Nature Permeate Environmental Euphony Demolish reckless Infrastructural Cacophony !!! Biospherically Yours Forever 🙏🏻 @Nitin Raikar
0
Sep 6, 2020
Sep 6, 2020 at 2:31 PM UTC
Nature’s Sentinels
that has taken the mantle, the muse of inspiration, for she - (did you think she was a man-god?) dyes me oft, colors me, ***** me, loves me with intensity hot that near to make my heart stop. poems I did not know, knew not their name, would write, but moments ago, now are chicks in the hatchery hatching, cupcakes in the oven rising, spit in the mouth *********** so fast a-coming, the sustained pleasure the best drug I have designed. seconds ago there were none, a lifetime of moments, now, multitudinous, molecules of oxygenated words flying past my eyes, purposed for inhalation through my skin. all week I have stretched and pecked, shreds of lettuce un satisfied, a title, no poem, a stanza, no poem, like I need a woman, need to write, like I need loving, desperate and raging, need to write. even my alter ego, the hidden me, where I write on the other side of edgy, indie, across border lines, in a name you do not know, nothing. started poems about being enlightened, my eldest sin, my eldest son, hitting a kid with a car, reading writing and 'rithmetic, inch plants, **** about the young poets here, fast track to nowhere. but at 2:22 am awoke, my small engine repaired, the fingers humming flying across the keyboard so fast broke the 3:50 minute mile, dear muse, I hate you with all my love. would it be so terrible if you gave me one complete per day, is that too much to ask? now I am choking gasping on ****** adrenalin cup overflowing, now they come like ******* only a women can have, so many more than one, long short fast furious separate but connected. you make me woman, just like you. one day when get up high where you reside, gonna start a recall petition, and if that don't work, a revolution, to kick out  the cruelty y'all dish out, the tornadoes and typhoons, return the missing to their parents, and give inspiration, hope to every human poet upon this living planet. now I comprehend why Shakespeare's theater was called The Globe.
0
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 5:58 AM UTC
Cruel is the God
that has taken the mantle, the muse of inspiration, for she - (did you think she was a man-god?) dyes me oft, colors me, ***** me, loves me with intensity hot that near to make my heart stop. poems I did not know, knew not their name, would write, but moments ago, now are chicks in the hatchery hatching, cupcakes in the oven rising, spit in the mouth *********** so fast a-coming, the sustained pleasure the best drug I have designed. seconds ago there were none, a lifetime of moments, now, multitudinous, molecules of oxygenated words flying past my eyes, purposed for inhalation through my skin. all week I have stretched and pecked, shreds of lettuce un satisfied, a title, no poem, a stanza, no poem, like I need a woman, need to write, like I need loving, desperate and raging, need to write. even my alter ego, the hidden me, where I write on the other side of edgy, indie, across border lines, in a name you do not know, nothing. started poems about being enlightened, my eldest sin, my eldest son, hitting a kid with a car, reading writing and 'rithmetic, inch plants, **** about the young poets here, fast track to nowhere. but at 2:22 am awoke, my small engine repaired, the fingers humming flying across the keyboard so fast broke the 3:50 minute mile, dear muse, I hate you with all my love. would it be so terrible if you gave me one complete per day, is that too much to ask? now I am choking gasping on ****** adrenalin cup overflowing, now they come like ******* only a women can have, so many more than one, long short fast furious separate but connected. you make me woman, just like you. one day when get up high where you reside, gonna start a recall petition, and if that don't work, a revolution, to kick out  the cruelty y'all dish out, the tornadoes and typhoons, return the missing to their parents, and give inspiration, hope to every human poet upon this living planet. now I comprehend why Shakespeare's theater was called The Globe.
Continue reading...
80
I'd be the blood pumping through the red network of your veins. I'm de-oxygenated I'm not the 02 (for you) that you think I am; that is why I vanished from your arteries I tried not going for your heart but this is the flux; the plethora with emanating tidal waves that I could not counter-attack
0
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 9:53 AM UTC
Red network of your veins
I almost died the other day And I came back to this place just to say That you never know when it all can get taken Away All your life's lessons suddenly play like a highschool production through your mind's electric grey clay, a mind managing to keep itself oxygenated enough to operate even as consciousness fades A body lying there, blue as a mid summer's day, gasping For breath, and for a chance to stay Alive. I woke up, having almost died the other day, To a room full of strange faces, whose eyes all aimed my way. A room full of strangers, My vision regaining clarity, I see equipment of many types, lying around a well decorated living room, it seemed out of place, devices dreamed up by engineers a few hundred miles away, At an elite institution, of mechanical engineering and science, engineering devices that now lay about my horrified friend's living room, Then the puzzle regained its shape, and I was graced with the understanding that it was all going to be okay, this time, anyway. the first responders, My saviours. Real heroes, Who wear no capes, Nor spandex, But who know their job well, And do it without delay, And these people who saved my life today Are out of my life now forever, and onto saving another fragile life, on some other street, On some other day. I saw people in blues, reds, and greys, yellows and oranges, and then the light of the day. The light of the day on which I did not die, But I could have, had it been another time, Another place. My stretcher was bright yellow, by the way... I almost died the other day, and its implacable oncoming rush scared me. The fear of not having lived a worthy life, an unobserved life, Of dying too soon, with things left to do Of leaving people behind, Of wrongs left to right Of lying here blue On my dear friend's plush carpet, And her child witnessing it as he comes home from school. Innocent as day, then scarred for life. Luckily I have a few friends and modern miracles on my side. I almost died the other day, and I came back here, having missed all the poetry, that makes life worth living, day after day. Beyond the biorhythms we must feed In order to stay Alive.    Peace.          Love. Breath.              Focus.                      A good enough mantra,                      Wouldn't you say? I almost died the other day, But I didn't. I breathe in with gratitude, And I exhale with relief, that I still got the knack for it.
0
Dec 9, 2022
Dec 9, 2022 at 10:52 AM UTC
I Almost Died the Other Day
I almost died the other day And I came back to this place just to say That you never know when it all can get taken Away All your life's lessons suddenly play like a highschool production through your mind's electric grey clay, a mind managing to keep itself oxygenated enough to operate even as consciousness fades A body lying there, blue as a mid summer's day, gasping For breath, and for a chance to stay Alive. I woke up, having almost died the other day, To a room full of strange faces, whose eyes all aimed my way. A room full of strangers, My vision regaining clarity, I see equipment of many types, lying around a well decorated living room, it seemed out of place, devices dreamed up by engineers a few hundred miles away, At an elite institution, of mechanical engineering and science, engineering devices that now lay about my horrified friend's living room, Then the puzzle regained its shape, and I was graced with the understanding that it was all going to be okay, this time, anyway. the first responders, My saviours. Real heroes, Who wear no capes, Nor spandex, But who know their job well, And do it without delay, And these people who saved my life today Are out of my life now forever, and onto saving another fragile life, on some other street, On some other day. I saw people in blues, reds, and greys, yellows and oranges, and then the light of the day. The light of the day on which I did not die, But I could have, had it been another time, Another place. My stretcher was bright yellow, by the way... I almost died the other day, and its implacable oncoming rush scared me. The fear of not having lived a worthy life, an unobserved life, Of dying too soon, with things left to do Of leaving people behind, Of wrongs left to right Of lying here blue On my dear friend's plush carpet, And her child witnessing it as he comes home from school. Innocent as day, then scarred for life. Luckily I have a few friends and modern miracles on my side. I almost died the other day, and I came back here, having missed all the poetry, that makes life worth living, day after day. Beyond the biorhythms we must feed In order to stay Alive.    Peace.          Love. Breath.              Focus.                      A good enough mantra,                      Wouldn't you say? I almost died the other day, But I didn't. I breathe in with gratitude, And I exhale with relief, that I still got the knack for it.
Continue reading...
58
"Throw ur ones up in the air Throw ur ones up in the air for him Throw ur ones up in the air Throw ur ones up in the air for him Throw ur ones up in the air Throw ur ones up in the air for him Throw ur ones up in the air For the ones u put up will..." Emancipate me I usually throw my fist up but I throw up my one because "ur the one for me" it's conditional and its situational Emergency...RED LIGHT Call the authorities cuz it's fresh blood on the floor Light crimson red oxygenated with the breath of love I feel from you every time your speak It makes me weak to the point I fall to the floor of your arms open for me to come in but there was a slaying here Like I said light crimson red and I'm O positive so I'm universal Nope it wasn't a homicide...not a suicide but emergency shock trauma cuz I finally got what I want...what I was waiting for Like a kid on Christmas Day my current need was satisfied I'm a member of the I'm in love crew But my arteries are getting slowly clogged from being scared Finally it's out there Some untold vulnerabilities have been out...out on the table Joker...joker...king...queen...jack...10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...ace...club...spade...diamond...heart that goes out to you as I lay all my cards on the table The enchanted love story seems to be blossoming but there are still some untold vulnerabilities cuz I jus don't understand ... Dedication and devotion and allegiance and justice for me Question mark so I jus bask in the ambiance of a new found love that is clearly sent from above Haha corny right So I jus "Put my one up in the air Put my one up in the air for him Put my one up in the air Put my one up in the air for him"
0
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 10:34 PM UTC
Untold Vulnerabilities Pt. VI
"Throw ur ones up in the air Throw ur ones up in the air for him Throw ur ones up in the air Throw ur ones up in the air for him Throw ur ones up in the air Throw ur ones up in the air for him Throw ur ones up in the air For the ones u put up will..." Emancipate me I usually throw my fist up but I throw up my one because "ur the one for me" it's conditional and its situational Emergency...RED LIGHT Call the authorities cuz it's fresh blood on the floor Light crimson red oxygenated with the breath of love I feel from you every time your speak It makes me weak to the point I fall to the floor of your arms open for me to come in but there was a slaying here Like I said light crimson red and I'm O positive so I'm universal Nope it wasn't a homicide...not a suicide but emergency shock trauma cuz I finally got what I want...what I was waiting for Like a kid on Christmas Day my current need was satisfied I'm a member of the I'm in love crew But my arteries are getting slowly clogged from being scared Finally it's out there Some untold vulnerabilities have been out...out on the table Joker...joker...king...queen...jack...10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...ace...club...spade...diamond...heart that goes out to you as I lay all my cards on the table The enchanted love story seems to be blossoming but there are still some untold vulnerabilities cuz I jus don't understand ... Dedication and devotion and allegiance and justice for me Question mark so I jus bask in the ambiance of a new found love that is clearly sent from above Haha corny right So I jus "Put my one up in the air Put my one up in the air for him Put my one up in the air Put my one up in the air for him"
Continue reading...
31
As you study zoology further you will come to relearn that veins bring blood back to the lungs, Across the kingdom animalia & a few others including Aves & Reptilia, Mammalia & Chordata, From lungs the re-oxygenated blood is re-pumped around the body by our rhythmic heartbeats. In my body it's a bit different I guess, yes it's different! Your name has crept up my veins and I just feel your Kreepy name sounding with every heartbeat. :)
0
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 6:24 AM UTC
How You Creep Up My Veins!
Do you ever realize that This universe Can be likened to blood? Do you ever just sit down and realize, That the stars in the skies Are platelets rushing to form a clot Around an ever expanding cut Constantly pouring out blood? The composition of the blood Diffuses And becomes that rich oxygenated red That becomes dilutes with the air Of our atmosphere And the ruby red sunlight becomes Lovely, lovely orange and yellow, The kind that get you all mellow. It also splits into the Cold color of deoxygenated blood Yes blue. We watch it ooze Slowly Putting the vast expanse of the heavens On display After the day Is done. Then there is the plasma Which scientists say is the Fourth state of matter But what does that even matter? Do you ever realize that This universe Can be likened to blood? Produced from an Ever expanding wound Like that of Christ whom Was bruised for our sins. Do you ever realize that The universe that surrounds us Could be The blood of Christ There to erase our sins? That the more we do wrong, The more blood he bleeds Thus the more we see The universe increase? Do you ever realize that The universe is constantly expanding And will never stop? I mean doesn’t that thought Ever pop Into your mind?
0
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC
Blood (Universe)
Your fingertips Heal me… Just that soft touch to my face When my tears stream down my face Defining that my whole world Had a hurricane And that no sunny days Are approaching Just the rain And the wind And that bad vibe But you can heal me… Your fingertips Have that soft touch That mends my heart together Without plasters but with magic It’s touch turns my hair Into fine wool And my skin into soft silk My eyes then become Your favourite colour, Green And all the rags become riches And all the tears become Nourishing water that heals Only because of your touch Please heal me With your fingertips That lay a soft touch on my body Just caress the scars And let them turn to brave soldiers On my skin that fight back To whatever tries to hurt me I don’t want that depression I don’t want that hurt I just want your soft touch I want your fingertips to heal me I want them to spin my heart into gold Just like the miller’s daughter with straw In Rumpelstiltskin Can you do that? My back is brutally beaten With twigs that have thorns And bullets always pierce Through my body But knives constantly stab Through my heart Just stabbing And stabbing And stabbing I need that to stop! My back is hurting And my body is numbing But my heart no longer has Oxygenated blood in it Will you be able to touch it? Will you be able to put Your hand through my chest And just touch my heart With your soft bare hands That feel like cotton candy Not because it’s healing is sweet But because it’s healing is gentle Fact is That your fingertips heal They have a soft touch So soft that they can turn My heart amnesiac I need to forget, But I only need you And your soft touch To help me…
0
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC
A Soft Touch
Your fingertips Heal me… Just that soft touch to my face When my tears stream down my face Defining that my whole world Had a hurricane And that no sunny days Are approaching Just the rain And the wind And that bad vibe But you can heal me… Your fingertips Have that soft touch That mends my heart together Without plasters but with magic It’s touch turns my hair Into fine wool And my skin into soft silk My eyes then become Your favourite colour, Green And all the rags become riches And all the tears become Nourishing water that heals Only because of your touch Please heal me With your fingertips That lay a soft touch on my body Just caress the scars And let them turn to brave soldiers On my skin that fight back To whatever tries to hurt me I don’t want that depression I don’t want that hurt I just want your soft touch I want your fingertips to heal me I want them to spin my heart into gold Just like the miller’s daughter with straw In Rumpelstiltskin Can you do that? My back is brutally beaten With twigs that have thorns And bullets always pierce Through my body But knives constantly stab Through my heart Just stabbing And stabbing And stabbing I need that to stop! My back is hurting And my body is numbing But my heart no longer has Oxygenated blood in it Will you be able to touch it? Will you be able to put Your hand through my chest And just touch my heart With your soft bare hands That feel like cotton candy Not because it’s healing is sweet But because it’s healing is gentle Fact is That your fingertips heal They have a soft touch So soft that they can turn My heart amnesiac I need to forget, But I only need you And your soft touch To help me…
Continue reading...
72
Tis' what we read on the papers Tis' what we see on the television Their vision and perceptions Their stereotypes and plans What is the truth? Tell me, show me, down in the valley Tell me, show me the reflection of the river Tell me, show me the hope I long to touch Tell me, show me the wicked terrorists Who are they? Those who claim to be the heroes Those that aim to pain the human race Those whose politics is like poly-tricks Those who control the media and sell reality In the galaxy whisper....... Whisper, as these mercenaries are ruthless Whisper, as these crazed creatures rule the world *Whisper, as these ***** sell the same old story again* Whisper, as these lies they give are well spent to confuse A reflection in the mirror glare It's not ironic that my fuse is blowing in trips It's not a rant, but open the wider realms and eyes Its not a truth but the hamster wheel they rotate It's not a lie that the manipulation they fixate aches Edward Snowden, John Lennon, Noam Chomsky, Bob Marley Whisper because if you speak loud as Snowden they won't pardon but promise to crucify your flesh Whisper because if you speak as John Lennon they will sacrifice your fresh to the turbulent rivers Whisper because if you speak loud as Noam Chomsky they will eradicate you from the facade institution Whisper because if you sing the truth as Bob Marley they will put you in a volcano as it cries eruption Attack their gravity of lies ?? My beautiful people, I am sick of the system My body is weak and my soul denied it's nature My mind knows that it is ridiculous, the blues My heart rules but it is slowed by the dishonesty My beautiful people, I am you, you are me, we are we My tongue justified as it tears cloud in the dark alleys My lungs are deprived of the radiant oxygenated air My all knows that the democracy they sail is an autocracy
0
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 4:34 PM UTC
The gravity of terrorism (Additional Audio Available
Tis' what we read on the papers Tis' what we see on the television Their vision and perceptions Their stereotypes and plans What is the truth? Tell me, show me, down in the valley Tell me, show me the reflection of the river Tell me, show me the hope I long to touch Tell me, show me the wicked terrorists Who are they? Those who claim to be the heroes Those that aim to pain the human race Those whose politics is like poly-tricks Those who control the media and sell reality In the galaxy whisper....... Whisper, as these mercenaries are ruthless Whisper, as these crazed creatures rule the world *Whisper, as these ***** sell the same old story again* Whisper, as these lies they give are well spent to confuse A reflection in the mirror glare It's not ironic that my fuse is blowing in trips It's not a rant, but open the wider realms and eyes Its not a truth but the hamster wheel they rotate It's not a lie that the manipulation they fixate aches Edward Snowden, John Lennon, Noam Chomsky, Bob Marley Whisper because if you speak loud as Snowden they won't pardon but promise to crucify your flesh Whisper because if you speak as John Lennon they will sacrifice your fresh to the turbulent rivers Whisper because if you speak loud as Noam Chomsky they will eradicate you from the facade institution Whisper because if you sing the truth as Bob Marley they will put you in a volcano as it cries eruption Attack their gravity of lies ?? My beautiful people, I am sick of the system My body is weak and my soul denied it's nature My mind knows that it is ridiculous, the blues My heart rules but it is slowed by the dishonesty My beautiful people, I am you, you are me, we are we My tongue justified as it tears cloud in the dark alleys My lungs are deprived of the radiant oxygenated air My all knows that the democracy they sail is an autocracy
Continue reading...
42
The Acolytes come marching in and out and in, out again Minds befuddles, rationalities amissing, fully indoctrinated Pathetic Dogs of Attrition dressed all in white, all in pain Compulsive obsessives, neurotics primed and oxygenated Scrappers at the bottom of the barrel wants unlawful gain By hook or crook is their recourse, to that they are mandated From rhetorics long gone and ideologies forged in days of rain Our intrepid Confused and Acolytes are soundly medicated Just march to left, left, left, left and we will ease all your pain Recognize that the enemies are those that think and are educated They all claim domain at the top, with kudos, status and fame While you languish in closed barrels, your poor lives truncated Those Bosses are all there because they are all Masonic inclined Doctors, lawyers and Professionals paid cash for Degrees granted They did no work or study, rich Daddies just paid so they claim All those Entrepreneurs are Robbers who bankraid unarrested Because the Police are all masonic and help/share in all the gain The Royals are  Top Mafiosas, with International links atested So Dumb Acolytes Know the truths and fall with the wise in line We must regain Power and march left, left so we're not left in vain The republic shall live because it's 21 Century and we wake in time We take all from the Secret Society and cut off all our iron chains Begin by taunting, tormenting and harassing that ****** Wayne The ****** Prince is the African Mafia Chief and Exploiter kingpin Sing with me everybody Viva la Revolution, viva la Revolution We are clever, all in our White uniforms We march to the left left left with our two left feet We know our brains have left us but we go left left Viva la Revolution, Viva la Revolution, Viva la Jinbba. Hey! jinbba, jinbaba, hey! jinbba jinbaba, hey! jinbba jinbba Sing.........
0
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 5:09 AM UTC
To The Left...Quick March.....
The Acolytes come marching in and out and in, out again Minds befuddles, rationalities amissing, fully indoctrinated Pathetic Dogs of Attrition dressed all in white, all in pain Compulsive obsessives, neurotics primed and oxygenated Scrappers at the bottom of the barrel wants unlawful gain By hook or crook is their recourse, to that they are mandated From rhetorics long gone and ideologies forged in days of rain Our intrepid Confused and Acolytes are soundly medicated Just march to left, left, left, left and we will ease all your pain Recognize that the enemies are those that think and are educated They all claim domain at the top, with kudos, status and fame While you languish in closed barrels, your poor lives truncated Those Bosses are all there because they are all Masonic inclined Doctors, lawyers and Professionals paid cash for Degrees granted They did no work or study, rich Daddies just paid so they claim All those Entrepreneurs are Robbers who bankraid unarrested Because the Police are all masonic and help/share in all the gain The Royals are  Top Mafiosas, with International links atested So Dumb Acolytes Know the truths and fall with the wise in line We must regain Power and march left, left so we're not left in vain The republic shall live because it's 21 Century and we wake in time We take all from the Secret Society and cut off all our iron chains Begin by taunting, tormenting and harassing that ****** Wayne The ****** Prince is the African Mafia Chief and Exploiter kingpin Sing with me everybody Viva la Revolution, viva la Revolution We are clever, all in our White uniforms We march to the left left left with our two left feet We know our brains have left us but we go left left Viva la Revolution, Viva la Revolution, Viva la Jinbba. Hey! jinbba, jinbaba, hey! jinbba jinbaba, hey! jinbba jinbba Sing.........
Continue reading...
32
Each one of us is a set of shifting molecules that transmute in atomic form and are continuously reborn within this anatomical uniform Composing of two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen atom bonding together at birth - making up a significant proportion of living organisms on earth Born submerged in the adorner and refresher of the world; the building blocks of life magnifying congenital unification intertwined in this oxygenated blood of mine.
0
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
Building Blocks of Life
Virginia Nicholson How To Build A House In N-Dimensions 1. Begin with lines, pencil to paper (if they could exist) drawing graphite arrangements, N-space reduced to one, a structure viewed in slices. Imagine the bathroom off the foyer, the den off the dining room, viewable only as inked lines, dit-dit-dah, a contractor’s Morse Code. 2. Progress to carpet squares, linoleum tiles, the coral paint pairs well with the eggshell trim.  Dit-dah-dit becomes something useful to the non-contractor, “door” or “Master Bedroom” or “x hundred feet of pipe.” Envision the imagined patterns hidden in the bathroom floor, the kitchen hardwood. 3. Move to volumes, solids, conic sections, height. One story, two stories, a basement, an attic?, take advantage of the introduction of 3D. Upgrade the closet to walk-in, needs more carpet squares. A snapshot of a family barbeque, Charlie’s height 1D penciled in to the 3D door, marring 2D eggshell paint. 4. Adding time, the house is built, ages, gets sold to new families with little Charlies of their own, new markings on the cupboard door, 3-foot-2, 3-foot-5, 4-foot-9. Grass fades from Kelly to sand to Kelly, saturation a cosine function with respect to time. The Zoysia starts in one, breaking ground in two, growing in three, a well-manicured 4D experience. 5-11.    Include the things invisible to us, objects on the order of 1 meter, orders of 10E-2 to 10E9 seconds. Five to eleven drip through leaky pipes, seep through porous flooring, get lost in iron-rich soil and oxygenated exhalations. Five to eleven stay hidden, wrapped up in Calabi-Yao manifolds smaller than graphite hills and valleys marking little Charlie’s height, stronger than the 2-by-4s and stone foundation keeping strong in 4D. Five to eleven circulate undetected, seven dimensions shrunk to sub-pinpoint size, keeping seven dimensions of unexplainables covered until their traces are seen in the blades of Zoysia.
0
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 5:20 PM UTC
How To Build A House In N-Dimensions
Virginia Nicholson How To Build A House In N-Dimensions 1. Begin with lines, pencil to paper (if they could exist) drawing graphite arrangements, N-space reduced to one, a structure viewed in slices. Imagine the bathroom off the foyer, the den off the dining room, viewable only as inked lines, dit-dit-dah, a contractor’s Morse Code. 2. Progress to carpet squares, linoleum tiles, the coral paint pairs well with the eggshell trim.  Dit-dah-dit becomes something useful to the non-contractor, “door” or “Master Bedroom” or “x hundred feet of pipe.” Envision the imagined patterns hidden in the bathroom floor, the kitchen hardwood. 3. Move to volumes, solids, conic sections, height. One story, two stories, a basement, an attic?, take advantage of the introduction of 3D. Upgrade the closet to walk-in, needs more carpet squares. A snapshot of a family barbeque, Charlie’s height 1D penciled in to the 3D door, marring 2D eggshell paint. 4. Adding time, the house is built, ages, gets sold to new families with little Charlies of their own, new markings on the cupboard door, 3-foot-2, 3-foot-5, 4-foot-9. Grass fades from Kelly to sand to Kelly, saturation a cosine function with respect to time. The Zoysia starts in one, breaking ground in two, growing in three, a well-manicured 4D experience. 5-11.    Include the things invisible to us, objects on the order of 1 meter, orders of 10E-2 to 10E9 seconds. Five to eleven drip through leaky pipes, seep through porous flooring, get lost in iron-rich soil and oxygenated exhalations. Five to eleven stay hidden, wrapped up in Calabi-Yao manifolds smaller than graphite hills and valleys marking little Charlie’s height, stronger than the 2-by-4s and stone foundation keeping strong in 4D. Five to eleven circulate undetected, seven dimensions shrunk to sub-pinpoint size, keeping seven dimensions of unexplainables covered until their traces are seen in the blades of Zoysia.
Continue reading...
7
I wonder what you meant when you told me, over the fifth cup of black coffee, that you had fallen out of love more than the number of times you’d kissed someone, your hands were not under-oxygenated but, cold because each hand you held before, took away your share of warmth too and people were just bricks that you kept stacking to build a wall around your heart; while, I held your sweaty palms and heard your heart beat against your ribcage like a storm.
0
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
Storm
I am the heart surgeon's hand, working on his audience in cardiac arrest, But this ***** it's beating, slowly, I need to speed it up, Actors surround me in latex gloves, ***** and cut with utensils I pick to **** The Epi, The Myo, The Endo, Three layers my gloves must fold under, We must prevent sudden cardiac death, To notice drama through superior atria, To hear oxygenated emotion through the body, As long as they're breathing, hearts pumping, the performance is at play.
0
Aug 2, 2010
Aug 2, 2010 at 9:20 AM UTC
Director
To the distant creator I ask, The reason to my quest, Am I just a ***** in a machine? Or mere a shadow cast by life. The strokes of a painter's brush, Swelled upon the canvas to create life, Am I that painting of yours? Or just a coincidental biological mess. In this circular stone I live, Floating in a space of infinite debris, Am I just a thinking tree? Or someone with a greater destiny. I ask you through my lonesome walks, With eyes dipped in question, And heart soaked tired. What's the purpose for this existence? How can I fulfill the solace quest? That my closed eyes had dreamt. I don't ask for survival tricks, Just a greater purpose to live my last days. A mere rusted iron in this oxygenated world, Excuse the pity brown, I can live with it, Just find me a tool, This rusted ***** can fit in, This rusted ***** can fit in.
0
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 2:45 AM UTC
The Rusted *****
Here's one shot for giving up  And one more for giving in Without a fight When nicotine and alcohol Can't dull the sense of the end Trying to win with a losing hand The cards I've been dealt never stack Quite as high as the sky The stars look so bright alone That empty space magnified Do we know that we're truly alone Or does it take the bitter taste Of one more rejection To cross the line A photo finish that no one read Care is a concern for the snowy trees The mysteries of life hold nothing For an ant like me Grind me under your heel Grind me, a nuisance with my heart Left longing for what I look for answers in the moving train cars But the perspective is only a blur Colors flash by in meaningless shapes To love or to live That is the question my dear With only one answer And it is nothing, nothing that these ringing ears Want to hear The burning bridge can only moan Under the weight of this heavy soul Weighed down with too many years Of beating half empty The blood is oxygenated Sparkling wine will only go so far Before the chill sets in Marlboro 27 specials kiss my lips And lead me down this path One step closer to death If only I could inhale You
0
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 10:28 PM UTC
I feel like
The spout Of the battle Shouting In inconsiderate Babble about bling While i'm saddling My steeds Manning the machines And breathing easy Before i speak Clearly to your dreams Interjecting the theme Of the losing team Cheering in victory Snickering in mockery I remarkably sing In drowned out tones And zings And i'm gonna be Everything you been In a week And its weak That i win And you grin With your arms up Hooray!! But you lost today Too dumb to know it But showin it To everybody Rhyming Isn't about money Its about diction Metered rhymes And harmony Arming the Alarmingly Disarming memes Of scattagoried kings Euphorically Seized In the lean Of delivery Creativity key The breezy Sleezinous Sheened In the has beens Gassed up Gin drunks Grunting whats In response to love Callin bluffs On the tuffs Of your huffs And shrugs Whatever punk I got a foot on you And your **** On my side Talking over you Until you shut Out the light With your mouth Over your eyes And your house Of flies sized up In tough love And shoved off the shores To the unexplored oceans In the notions Of severed portions Aborted with a snorkel In the cortex Of Oxygenated Brains showing you A thing or two So ******* vein Watching you strain To speak To breathe To think When your ready Il be brief A pat on the back And declaration of king Before you bend over to be Blessed by the best In this contest Im tested Only of my patience In the vagrancy Of your empty words Freshly matured In manure Skewered In the lured Obscurity Muraling The masterpieces Stealing thesis-es With the soul content Of cheeseless pizzas Sauceless in the lossless Belligerence And im tempted To kiss My fists And commence To smash out the comments To astonished onlookers Booking for Brooklyn When im shooting Blood across the pavement With fury of a patient To fairfax and back To break the bones Of your home Set your soul apart From the heart That pumps lumps Of ******** From the start Of your every sentence Ill take two seconds To count on your blemishes To settle this In nubbish ******* Stumbling From a kid Im only kidding In my giving a single **** Get with it The mic is yours And ill freely admit To being bored Here you go ....
0
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 4:44 AM UTC
spew1n
The spout Of the battle Shouting In inconsiderate Babble about bling While i'm saddling My steeds Manning the machines And breathing easy Before i speak Clearly to your dreams Interjecting the theme Of the losing team Cheering in victory Snickering in mockery I remarkably sing In drowned out tones And zings And i'm gonna be Everything you been In a week And its weak That i win And you grin With your arms up Hooray!! But you lost today Too dumb to know it But showin it To everybody Rhyming Isn't about money Its about diction Metered rhymes And harmony Arming the Alarmingly Disarming memes Of scattagoried kings Euphorically Seized In the lean Of delivery Creativity key The breezy Sleezinous Sheened In the has beens Gassed up Gin drunks Grunting whats In response to love Callin bluffs On the tuffs Of your huffs And shrugs Whatever punk I got a foot on you And your **** On my side Talking over you Until you shut Out the light With your mouth Over your eyes And your house Of flies sized up In tough love And shoved off the shores To the unexplored oceans In the notions Of severed portions Aborted with a snorkel In the cortex Of Oxygenated Brains showing you A thing or two So ******* vein Watching you strain To speak To breathe To think When your ready Il be brief A pat on the back And declaration of king Before you bend over to be Blessed by the best In this contest Im tested Only of my patience In the vagrancy Of your empty words Freshly matured In manure Skewered In the lured Obscurity Muraling The masterpieces Stealing thesis-es With the soul content Of cheeseless pizzas Sauceless in the lossless Belligerence And im tempted To kiss My fists And commence To smash out the comments To astonished onlookers Booking for Brooklyn When im shooting Blood across the pavement With fury of a patient To fairfax and back To break the bones Of your home Set your soul apart From the heart That pumps lumps Of ******** From the start Of your every sentence Ill take two seconds To count on your blemishes To settle this In nubbish ******* Stumbling From a kid Im only kidding In my giving a single **** Get with it The mic is yours And ill freely admit To being bored Here you go ....
Continue reading...
139
There is a part of me That will always look for you In between lines of poetry books Rapid Blinks of commas,,,,,,, and a beating' heart of apostrophes' You will be my diaphragm expanding opening quotation marks" Filling my lungs with all that you are. Questions? of us, exclamations! of desire, invaders slashing/ to break our sentences up. So we are no longer one, just two seperate paragraphs However, but, moreover Itching to close together, unspoken words Conjunctions bringing us further, but closer and the odd semicolon; separating us once more Never the closing contracting final remark" We have no full stop. no ending We're simply waiting waiting for our next breath, an ellipses...... In motion And so i stand here, looking out into the world, waiting for the next time you fill my lungs, oxygenated words of love carrying them selves into every blood vessel. Just one more eternal breath One more beating heart One more exclamation of allure! And so i continue to look for you In between every line of poetry and punctuation I see Forever and always
0
Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 6:03 PM UTC
Punctuation of love
Its a hard moribund life, swirling oxygenated reeds in the rivulet, pause her venture. Nil by mouth, she strives to untangle, tapered free, to the ravenous lands re-emerging, searching for morsels of truth. Nourishment wrenched from out stretched hands. Like broken briars, lost thorns embed a crown of despondent woe
0
Apr 15, 2012
Apr 15, 2012 at 2:13 PM UTC
Oxygenated
Love is like oxygenated blood which pumps through vascular decades of sensual experience. Soaring upon the thermals of the Andes, the flight of the Condor reveals perspective of the land, where events are perceived in their complex entirety. I am fully aware that music can be hypnotic in its ever-flowing stream of rhythmic nourishment. So, there are many parts which make the whole. Therefore, in the height of our carnivorous quest for survival and intermittent gratification, let us bow in reverence to the many elements of vaginal rituals. It’s a rhythm and blues encore with wings which are not comparable to those of Icarus.
0
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 11:10 PM UTC
Homosapien Ornothology