"paving" poems
tell me...
will tomorrow bring,
all the things
i'm longing...
stowed upon its elusive wings,
tirelessly beating
and fighting
to show what's dangling
and hanging...
ready for the picking...
awaiting...
such time so it could begin its need for unloading,
delivering
and dropping,
its gleaming
treasures
on those who are deserving,
in no way lacking
so they could be at the receiving
end of this pressurising,
inking
of dwindling
words...
careless thoughts conceived only to
fuel
my deranged ramblings...
incessant mutterings of a shattering
mind...
bending backwards, almost breaking,
risking...
the chance of ever fully
mending...
hoping and praying
for a sentence that's pending
dawn's approval...
allowing
the rising
of the sun...
paving
ways for thriving
wishes,
unbarring
gates for soaring
dreams, unlocking
latches,
relieving...
the heightening
anxieties of grieving
hearts.
constantly whispering
utterances, promising
good will, happiness
and titillating
sanity.
we're thinking...
the earth is spinning,
the moon is setting,
so the sun must be rising
but...
tell me,
tomorrow...
is it coming?
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
You don’t need to try so hard.
You can wear the clothes you want.
Do whatever you please,
Express yourself the way you know how.
You can wear those heels
Just because you love them.
Your true friends will accept you
And all your little quirks.
It’s time to let it go,
Let go of all your fears of judgement.
Stop caring what people think of you,
It’s none of your business anyways.
You are who are for a reason.
You’re crazy, eclectic,
A miss independent and a little rebellious.
You like to defy the norms of society
So why aren’t you doing it?
Let go of all those rules and make your own.
You’ve always stood for the outcasts,
Paving your own path,
Cutting the trees blocking your way.
Why care now about fitting in
When you’re a shining gem?
You were born to lead, to conquer.
This is your destiny, you’ve always worn
Your individuality just like a badge.
Don’t become submissive,
Stop looking for approval,
You won’t find it anywhere
But inside of yourself.
It’s the self-acceptance that comes first,
There’s no better friend than you.
Go on, look in the mirror.
Remember, you better like who you are,
That is the person you’ll be stuck with
For the rest of your life.
Enjoy all the strangeness,
All the weird parts of your personality.
There’s no refunds, no exchanges.
You are who you are and that
Is perfection; no matter what anyone says.
Accept who you are now,
Accept all the growth to come.
You can accomplish even your
Wildest dreams, those shooting stars.
It’s time to just be,
Time to stop leaning on societies
Ideals and march on out
With head held up high.
Self acceptance is all you need.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 9:22 PM UTC
Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly
Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.
Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.
Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,
Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,
Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We
Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking
Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!
We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,
Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:
We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door.
20.5k
The warmth of the sun settles, hugging the lake.
The dragonfly flies low, hovering above the tranquil water
the light seeping through the paper thin skin,
it hums across the lake, refracting light off its wings,
An array of colors make patterns on the wings,
wearing it like a cloak, a rainbow embedded within.
The colors tilt and shift as the dragonfly gracefully cruises through life,
laying close to the water but letting the air propel it forward,
floating between two different worlds,
it is like a dream where our thoughts are separated from reality,
and are scattered like refracted light for us to assemble.
Through a screen of our dreams, a world can be seen.
A world of hopes and desires that is dormant within
The light of life just soaks us bare,
our skin turns frail,
under the scorching glare,
the glare of eyes that want you to be,
someone that is accepted by society.
the dragonfly bathes itself in the sun,
the iridescent colors shine on its skin,
flying and floating, he’s determined to win
a predator, determined to get what it wants
nothing blocking its way or paving its path
making the most out of life and never holding back
spread your wings like the dragonfly
that hums its way through life,
dipping its wings in the sun to shine,
breaking free a life of colors,
that we leave locked and forgotten,
behind a reality made of black and white,
the black ink seeping through our minds,
injecting us with ideas of the 'ideal life'
where money and fortune, and status define.
Bathe your mind in the wonders of the world,
soak your heart in life's warmth and glow,
and pave your own path,
with the dreams you sow.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 3:13 AM UTC
All the ants have scurried away,
leaving the unstable mud anthill to crumble.
The other older ants are slowly turning grey,
From grey to black,non poisonous and feeble.
Crimson red ants bursting with colorless blood,
Driven by pure prejudiced hunger.
to carry heavier loads,more food ,till they collapse under the burden,
Their ambition ,now,more fiercer.
The grey ants peculiarly fat,dumb and happy,
Oblivious to the scurrying soldiers.
Waiting to be submerged under the fall,to be perished entirely,
Paving way for the red running dots to disperse.
A solitary ant suddenly stops scurrying,
to WAIT
for,they say,patience will conquer all worrying.
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 4:34 AM UTC
All my life
is waves, expressed as rays,
phases, and cancellations...
...Waving by
and paving over
what I made in other ages
Undulating sway,
disrupting Self,
the Phrase, the Word, the Way --
Nameless, without
shape - within all shape -
all touch, all taste;
One expressed as Two:
compress, expand, repeat.
In balance, truth.
Lilting swells
that break in mind and water,
endless scintillation;
Every word as complex
as its counterpart,
unpatterned ocean;
All motion
the illusion of Desire,
the fire that burns to Rest...
...But only ever
simulates, for trough
but stimulates the crest;
When all my waves
have ceased and found their peace,
there ends my quest.
Aug 4, 2011
Aug 4, 2011 at 4:45 PM UTC
Forlorn as a destitute child,
I wandered to the distant wild;
Through a peculiar lonelier wood,
Like a wave, roving as fast as I could.
Not long, I came by a myrtle river bank
Where early boughs grow wild and rank.
There my eyes kissed upon wild flowers,
All grandly dressed in neon colours,
Rhythmically whispering lullabies,
Ineffably upon velvety indigo skies,
Whilst swaying in a friskier dance,
That could render naked eyes in a trance.
At such a mesmerizing sight,
I drowned in a pool of sweet delight
Hence in wonderment shook my head,
And in a velvety voice whispered:
"Flowers, flowers, flowers, flowers
What brings about thy Ineffable colors?"
**And all flowers smiled and smiled,
And exuberantly all thus replied:**
"At dusk, when fair maidens of the night
Grandly dress in flocks, of burning bright;
And madly smiles about skies above,
Oh! Their opalscent eyes we flowers love:
So, from their pulchritudenous color;
So lies the mysteries of our allure."
At such a mesmerizing reply,
Sweet delight oozed from mine eye
Hence in wonderment shook my head,
And in a velvety voice whispered:
"Flowers, flowers, flowers, flowers
What brings about thy ineffable colors?"
**And all flowers smiled and smiled,
And exuberantly all thus replied:**
"At dawn, when the day's watchman
Doth weareth his novelty crown,
And treads upon yonder skies above,
Oh! His golden crown we flowers love:
So, from his pulchritudenous color;
So lies the mysteries of our allure."
At such a mesmerizing reply,
Sweet delight oozed from mine eye
Hence in wonderment shook my head,
And in a velvety voice whispered:
"Flowers, flowers, flowers, flowers
What brings about thy ineffable colors?"
**And all flowers smiled and smiled,
And exuberantly all thus replied:**
"When envious veils of dusk engulfs day,
Paving the fairest Empress way;
To grandly grace on yonder skies above,
Oh! Her rainbow robes we flowers love:
So, from her pulchritudenous colour;
So lies the mysteries of our allure."
At such a mesmerizing reply,
Sweet delight oozed from mine eye
Hence in wonderment shook my head,
And in a velvety voice whispered:
"Flowers, flowers, flowers, flowers
What brings about thy ineffable colors?"
**'And all,' all flowers smiled and smiled;
I mean, smiled, smiled and smiled,
I say, smiled, smiled and smiled,
And happiness bloomed in the wild.**
#bliss of solitude
©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros
Jumeira, Dubai
6th August 2017
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 10:09 AM UTC
There once was a time
Gone by, gone by,
Picking blackberries till the vine was plucked dry.
Pricked finger and the blood of kings
washed the riverbed clean again
paving path for new bled love.
Story of my life: Hot Hand-Grenade.
Tripwire tickled by trespassing travelers
Red wire arteries
clipped and clipped and clipped
and simple minded times when birds sang songs to other birds
and chirped lyrical lines in the dusk.
More wonder. More trust. Less wanderlust.
Dust in the air. Still in the sunlight.
Through glass.
Broke. Fall. Cut. All roads lead to home.
Wood, River, Stone. A guide, a path, alone.
We all walk on our own
Striving for independence
Together.
Now is a time of faded glory, daffodils in freshly-mowed fields.
I still catch myself wishing I had the words to share
The bigness of what's out there.
I still hear myself singing your song of longing.
Still find myself longing for days of childish peace and ignorance
when we could pick blackberries from the bush without bombs falling in our basket.
Still a long way to go to hear the sound of surrender and the silent unfurling of egos into how alone we feel.
Still my heart, that lost love long ago, and surrendered a savior forever.
Hart, of dreams, slip into the stream.
Interstitch the seams.
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 3:55 AM UTC
Starting from today
I’m a free bird again
Paving a new way
Free from hurt and pain.
Spread my wings
Set to rise and fly
Clear of these feelings
All tears have run dry.
Aches are like taboos
Silent, unspeakable and painful
Scars are like tattoos
Exist, real yet beautiful.
Tomorrow is a new day
Start a new chapter
Until the hair turns gray
Let’s live life better.
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 8:31 PM UTC
Ignorances innate wove curtain of veils
Cut usunder heretofore obscuring
Bodhicittas valedictory wintry gloom torn
Of enlightenments will factioning the
Silenced mammonish city kingdom truced
As the wings of Azrael clinch
Earthly thistles; monolithic raiments
Deposed Hull, Hell and Halifax parcae
The willowing of light unfettering Fenrirs
Durance, howling aconite psalms suspiring
Suffrage relict paving with mewed stars
Redemptions tithed talents bequeathed
Of Heavens sinister prayer burning
Acinta dusts thine ashes threading
The wilful sword of Gods destruction.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 8:44 AM UTC
Cold hard sharpened blades cut deep grooves,
biting forcefully into the icy sheet.
Spinning and sliding and laughing
Pushing one foot ahead, then the other, then the other,
gliding effortlessly over the ice.
A deep cold refreshing breath.
Thrilled and revitalized with the smooth speed.
While nothing lies ahead, a sinuous trail stalks.
A thin film of water created only by the blades pressing firmly
upon the ice, melting and paving the way ahead.
-AM
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 1:15 AM UTC
practicing mental gymnastics
insipid memories
seeping their way past
defensive buffers
remembering repressed poisons
as a catalyst for making
wiser decisions
lackadaisical reactions to
sharply defined parallaxes
warrant an immediate shift
fractal spectacles
the labyrinth of my innards
inhale the cosmological smoke of suggestion
words become meaningless
when repeated exhaustively
semantic satiation
slicing away at true intentions
paving the way to
false inventiveness
shallow river beds are loud
prouder than their counterparts
insecurity overshadows
a lack of faith in the faint of heart
everything worthwhile
falls apart
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 1:38 AM UTC
A quiet book of words, from a lonely man in his room
Her tiny voice, like pebbles rolling down a stream,
surrounded by pines
Sand between her toes, humming a song her mother used to sing,
forgot the words
Holding my head in your arms, blue little room, listening to
the wind chimes
Your bamboo forest, outside this ***** window, full of
ladybugs & grasshoppers
Green grass drying to hollow shells, snapped off by careless hands
Brushed away by gentle winds, spread among limestone & juniper
Standing barefoot on the paving stones, her toenails painted
yellow with black dandelions
A sip of iced tea, lemon, a bite of steamed rice
Trying to put a few thoughts together, letting the day simmer down
We'll sit together a while longer, listen to the crickets in the bamboo
Waiting, quietly waiting on your voice, the only thing
that keeps me dreaming anymore
May 8, 2011
May 8, 2011 at 1:00 AM UTC
Cold beer,
a long necked bottle held to my forehead
and in my throat,
to my lips,
so relief comes both ways,
glad for it,
the double of the cool,
helps the day of troubled nothingness,
and the long necked bottle makes it
worth the extra second of anticipated tasty wait
can't drink in the river park,
don't cotton to brown paper bags,
do it anyway cause the East River
tides me over on its way
thru the Verrazano Narrows,
bound for the Atlantic with me low rider spirit in tow,
a devil may care attitude en contrôle
this troubadour opened the store at 700am
but not a one came looking for a song,
but the mail came reliable,
with dues due,
promises that need keeping,
and other items,
what the grownups call responsibilities
June Monday early eve and the Moran tugboats
ply their trade like reliable ****** to the sailors,
and their larger than bathtub size toys,
turning containers, freighters, into docile boys
who do as they are told on their way to ports far
there are stick figures outlined on the hexagon
paving stones that are so nyc for me,
here pedestrian! follow your designated path
here pedestrian, you must walk to be safe arrived
but I take to the railing,
where Isaac-bound and mesmerized,
I imagine surfing the churning wakes on the surface
of the riveting tides and wonderous wanderlust for
where we are bound...
no voice heard from the heavens,
saying Abraham put down that knife,
because I have not passed the test of true belief,
perhaps the river's invitation is my test,
if I should sing another song here,
perhaps it will tale the end of this tell...
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 7:24 PM UTC
Evidently it was meant to be.
Long before I was born my DNA
sat on a shelf in God's laboratory,
a sticky note attached,
name, date of birth, perhaps
a tiny alarm to notify the lab
of inception.
God doesn't lose things
and God doesn’t forget.
It must be for a reason and
it must be meant to be.
A critical piece of who I am.
I should show a little pride because
as they say God don't make no ******
But I’m a little late to the party..
*The party that celebrates those who choose to be identified
by a gender other than the one they were born with,
but shames anyone who struggles with substance abuse.*
I'm having trouble understanding the difference.
If I were to gather my drug addled friends
and march down the street with banners and signs
demanding the right to openly inject mind altering
substances into my veins I would be seen as
a criminal and a derelict even though my constant struggle
came right off the shelf of God’s laboratory where
my sticky noted DNA sat right next to yours.
I guess I shouldn't care what people think..
I know my rights, and I demand to be accepted,
NO, praised for coming out so bravely,
carrying a new flag, flaunting in the streets,
paving the way for future generations of addicts.
I will take my God given DNA out of the dark
and go out into light,
light so bright you'll be forced to accept it.
accept my sickness!
embrace it!
this is in my DNA,
God made me this way
so it must be ok.
I feel better now.
I no longer feel guilty,
or depressed,
or weak,
or wrong,
or immoral,
No longer do I need to contain it.
no longer do I need to be shamed.
I am an addict and I am beautiful.
Just like you.
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 12:34 PM UTC
I don’t think I could tell you of ease
But I see you across from this sea in between
Shifting in your seat, nursing a dull ache
I know that feeling all too well
But I don’t want to tell you about it
In case I may come across insensitive
Because I’m trying not to shift this center of gravity
We both share in desperation
And tip us over the edge
We didn’t dare to wonder about
But I never learned to swim
And this sea in between
is filling up my lungs
When did it get so hard to breathe?
I call after you, under my shallow breath
I see you for everything
Hoping you see me too
But this heavy air we drink
Settles in your shadow and mine
It spells out gracefully
That the spaces between us
Are built out of love
And so, we go on
Paving distances
For these descending clouds
Nov 13, 2023
Nov 13, 2023 at 1:55 AM UTC
For the lonely,
for the loveless,
for the forgotten and overlooked,
for the discarded and trodden on,
for the neglected,
for the ignored and mocked,
for societies weeds,
for circumstantial weeds.
For you outcasts are weeds
the flowers nobody wants,
but
weeds are resilient.
They persevere where others can not.
Often mistaken for weak, but no,
weeds are strong
and tough enough to break through tonnes of concrete
and metal.
Clever enough to find growth in places
others perish in.
Adaptable to every habitat and
brave enough to exist on barren wasteland.
Weeds need only the tiniest of a chance to flourish
For the unwanted,
for the unclaimed.
You are beautiful.
You are equal to every other flower.
You are the Charlock, the Buttercup, the Clover,
the Pinapple-May-Weed and so much more.
Next time you see a **** by the roadside,
or peeking out from a crack in a wall,
or between paving slabs in a busy city,
or overgrown in a garden,
or weaving through rubble and debris,
take heart
lonely ones.
You are not worthless
You are magnificent.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC
yeah
so we were stepping over sparkling paving stones
the air we breathed seemed to sparkle
and inhaling left a chill on my throat
the flawless silence was broken only
by the sound of her high heels
and the occasional passing car
I would glance at her
when I thought it might go unnoticed
and I loved how the orange glow from the streetlights
made her look warm when everything around us was so cold
'can I tell you something' she said
'sure'
'you can't tell anyone though'
'okay......'
'I'm engaged'
I stop walking
the silence suffocates me
I can't stop my eyes from falling
they search the pavement for answers
for something to say
I fake a smile and look back up laughing
'oh my god, that's amazing, congratulations"!
I put my arm round her shoulders and start us walking
'Aww you really think so'?
No
Aug 21, 2010
Aug 21, 2010 at 3:29 AM UTC
Our once baron land
nothing but blackened sand
Tis now a place of beauty
So come take my hand
so we may stroll through our garden forever
Along the crazy paving pathway
We shall stroll through our garden togeather
Flowerbeds of
Salvia
Delphinium
Coneflower
Cosmos
Alyssum
daisies
Aster
Clavillia
Hollyhock
Poppies
Just to name a few
So come sit with me my love
on our swingseat made for two
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 10:56 PM UTC
Bluebell Lucy danced in fantastic flames, taught by shamanic figures
when the winter nights grew tiresome
and lonely boys ran passionately in village streets
She stood on ancient structures and sang her song with uttermost vigor
even after mild paranoia sets in, she stands statuesque
breathing harmonic, listening intently to the cloud's chatter
Her cobalt lashes flickered adroitly when she scanned the sky atop her locks
and let the coming rains wash through that azure mane
until the kiss of eternal gratitude arrived from a stray bird
On cobble stone paving, her heels were worn and dampened, she nimbly strides
how beautiful it is to see a spirit so free
and the obstinate world yields to her alone
Loosely, Lucy with a cerulean aura, gathers the injured and feral in alabaster arms
she is yagé and the world hallucinates because of her
a subtle enlightenment she gives to onlookers and thieves
Camu Camu sprouting from the wells she digs with bare hands in midnight moonlight
her compatriots, the beasts of lost tribes, look onwards
and she wails a verse on hemerocallis singular sensation
The flower that she is, a wild one that grows sporadically to enhance the beauty of existence
and everybody incomprehensible in thoughts when she speaks
because she is love when love had died so many suns ago
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 3:35 PM UTC
A lone dewdrop from heaven falling down and down, no idea where it shall land-
Would it be the beak of a bird, quenching its overnight thirst, diminishing itself for salvation?
Would it be on a red rose, waiting to be plucked by a lover for his love, wiped by the lovely hands?
Would it be the blade of a grass, perching atop, paving way to the eternal slide down to non-existence?
Would it be the stinky gutters, where a war rages: purity against the filth, a lone drop against the gust?
Would it be on the web of a spider, when an endless wait begins, incineration by the cruel sun?
Jan 28, 2011
Jan 28, 2011 at 6:51 AM UTC
one of them drifted
leaving hearts wounded
some heals
some others never stay the same
the next one built
a new town
paving path
to a new home
third's a charm
he managed to glow
and growing pain
into flowers
the other one picked
a different road
and he killed his old self
to become a butterfly
and the last one's on his way
slowing the ride down
becoming a man of his own
while staying on his roots
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 1:52 AM UTC
Independent
A bit headstrong,
Her kindness,
Transcendent
Her accent shapes her character.
She doubts her abilities
When she is among the strongest
The hurt of her people
Is all she sees
She’s learning to look in the mirror
Not to see the imperfections
But all the possibilities
She rarely forgets
Although she hides behind a silhouette
A fierce protector
Without discrimination
They can’t all defend themselves
So she steps in
She will give her life for her country
And for it
They love her.
I hope she sees the change she creates
A magnificent ruler.
Each step in her red spiked boots
Paving a new path
For those forgotten or lost
Walking with her,
Their roots
She takes their hand
And leads them on
No persecution
Only solutions.
A tireless advocate for those without.
No need to ask
She understands her task
…………………………….
Could you use some help?
No need to ask
Just open your eyes
And seek her out
She’ll find you
Eventually
She sees through it
The lies.
I hope one day this queen
Will find a proper king
For now she rules independently
Fighting
Endlessly.
Dec 17, 2021
Dec 17, 2021 at 10:29 PM UTC
lush cornucopia of greens
and overlapping canopies.
rays filtered through
somewhat a broken lens.
an arbour found
which carelessly took root.
calling out,
inviting,
offering sanctuary
from the shrill calls
of the turbulent outside.
a harbour
to which my heart
had taken to.
and had intended to stay.
but such is the nature
of man.
*no other man's peace
can be left unruffled.
no other man's cocoon
can be left unravelled.
no other man's haven
can be left uninvaded.
and no other man's trove
can be left unraided.*
like before I'll have to go.
and just like man's exploratory nature,
I leave seeking another
unfound recluse.
inadvertently,
paving the way for more to come.
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 10:14 PM UTC