"perfects" poems
In the streets I am not wanted
In this nation I am not wanted
In the streets terror takes over
In the nation arguments are heard
Separating colored from white
Separating imperfects from perfects
Segregation is a way of life
Racism is a daily routine
Equal rights isn’t in our vocabulary
Freedom for colored isn’t thought of
Stereotyping, judging, terrorizing
Where is my freedom I’ve longed for?
Where is my holy land?
Where is my safe place?
The north is helping,
But is it enough?
I feel a change coming
The change in the nation
Speaks of freedom and
Ends segregation
It will make me
Feel wanted in the streets
Feel wanted in the nation
But for now I feel as if I’m
Not wanted here
My skin may be different,
But I have a heart and
I am still a human being
Created by our Holy Father
So where is my freedom?
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 4:12 AM UTC
*Man and woman, though different
Are equal in the eyes of God.
inexplicable though true but still
Unacceptable for some perhaps
Man is the highest of all creations
Woman is the most sublime of all Ideals.
God made for a man a throne,
for a woman an altar.
the throne exalts,
The altar sanctifies.
Man is the brain.
woman is the heart.
The brain fabricates light while
The heart produces love.
light fecunds,
Love resuscitates.
Man is the code.
Woman is the gospel.
The code corrects
As the gospel perfects.
Man is the genius while
Woman is the angel.
The genius is undefinable
And the angel is immeasurable.
Man is strong in reason
but woman is invincible in her tears.
Reason convinces the most stubborn
Just as tears soften the hardest of mortals.
Man is the ocean
And the woman is the lake.
The ocean has it's pearls that adorn;
The lake has its poems that dazzle.*
***Man stands where the earth ends;
And woman where heaven begins.***
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
When winter's glaze is lifted from the greens,
And cups are freshly cut, and birdies sing,
Triumphantly the stifled golfer preens
In cleats and slacks once more, and checks his swing.
This year, he vows, his head will steady be,
His weight-shift smooth, his grip and stance ideal;
And so they are, until upon the tee
Befall the old contortions of the real.
So, too, the tennis-player, torpid from
Hibernal months of television sports,
Perfects his serve and feels his knees become
Sheer muscle in their unaccustomed shorts.
Right arm relaxed, the left controls the toss,
Which shall be high, so that the racket face
Shall at a certain angle sweep across
The floated sphere with gutty strings--an ace!
The mind's eye sees it all until upon
The courts of life the faulty way we played
In other summers rolls back with the sun.
Hope springs eternally, but spring hopes fade.
5.7k
The water paints with sound
redamancy upon the shore
and our hearts.
And the cascade reminds me
Time can be beautiful,
Love is first shallow,
And then deep,
Oh, so deep, my love,
The color of shale and cobalt
We sit on the rocky shore
And stack stones into a cairn
Making the moment, the place.
Finally, he says, *we’ve seen the ocean
Together.*
As if seeing the vastness of Resurrection Bay
Perfects our Pacific love
Deepening.
We skip a few rocks
To test the shallows
To find the deep
To discover what we believe awaits us
In the future:
Love like waves
Pulled by the moon--
My hand pulled by yours
To go home.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC
Fallen eyes and wandering leaves
It's a wonder why anybody leaves
Can you help me find my way to nowhere at all?
Can you kiss me up against the tower wall?
Sunglass eyes and sun-dressed skin
A whole city wondering where you've been
Is there anywhere else you'd like to fall in love?
No one here can do it just once
Drink to dream your color queens
Stuck between movie scenes
Where we beg time to just give us a break
And wonder how long this perfect twist takes
Laugh and play and cry and sing
A perfect place perfects all things
Springtime never ends on the Paris streets
Where you can fall in love with everyone you meet
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 5:34 PM UTC
You just don't understand me.
I feel like I'm talking to a ******* wall.
And to be honest.
I'm done.
And tired.
I'm tired of having this fake smile plastered on my face.
Everything isn't all fine and dandy.
I'm. .. Lost.
I'm outcasted.
And no matter how much I say I accept it...
It doesn't make me feel like I belong anywhere.
I belong no where.
I don't belong here.
Im sorry.
But this girl has forever stopped smiling.
And no this isn't my suicide note.
Believe me,I wish it was...
This is a piece of paper... with a bunch of truth written on it.
And these truths are my feelings deep down.
The feelings that created these scars.
The feelings I try so desperately to hid.
Yeah. There's nothing for me here. Is what I think. I'm just wasted space.
I don't belong in this world of...perfects.
Im just a girl who doesnt feel that im good enough.
On the outside I smile like everythings fine.
But on the inside I break and crumble wishing these days would finally be over.
I try to think happy. But all I get in return is rejection?
No matter how much I sing beautiful day by U2 or Bad Day...
My life just doesn't turn around.
I don't have one friend that I can talk to.
And I can't talk...because...
My problems. I just can't I convey.
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 1:44 AM UTC
It is cold. The white moon
is up among her scattered stars—
like the bare thighs of
the Police Sergeant’s wife—among
her five children . . .
No answer. Pale shadows lie upon
the frosted grass. One answer:
It is midnight, it is still
and it is cold . . . !
White thights of the sky! a
new answer out of the depths of
my male belly: In April . . .
In April I shall see again—In April!
the round and perfects thighs
of the Police Sergeant’s wife
perfect still after many babies.
Oya!
3.1k
I
That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers,
And the blue eye
Dear and dewy,
And that infantine fresh air of hers!
II
To think men cannot take you, Sweet,
And enfold you,
Ay, and hold you,
And so keep you what they make you, Sweet!
III
You like us for a glance, you know—
For a word’s sake,
Or a sword’s sake,
All’s the same, whate’er the chance, you know.
IV
And in turn we make you ours, we say—
You and youth too,
Eyes and mouth too,
All the face composed of flowers, we say.
V
All’s our own, to make the most of, Sweet—
Sing and say for,
Watch and pray for,
Keep a secret or go boast of, Sweet.
VI
But for loving, why, you would not, Sweet,
Though we prayed you,
Paid you, brayed you
In a mortar—for you could not, Sweet.
VII
So, we leave the sweet face fondly there—
Be its beauty
Its sole duty!
Let all hope of grace beyond, lie there!
VIII
And while the face lies quiet there,
Who shall wonder
That I ponder
A conclusion? I will try it there.
IX
As,—why must one, for the love forgone,
Scout mere liking?
Thunder-striking
Earth,—the heaven, we looked above for, gone!
X
Why with beauty, needs there money be—
Love with liking?
Crush the fly-king
In his gauze, because no honey bee?
XI
May not liking be so simple-sweet,
If love grew there
’Twould undo there
All that breaks the cheek to dimples sweet?
XII
Is the creature too imperfect, say?
Would you mend it
And so end it?
Since not all addition perfects aye!
XIII
Or is it of its kind, perhaps,
Just perfection—
Whence, rejection
Of a grace not to its mind, perhaps?
XIV
Shall we burn up, tread that face at once
Into tinder
And so hinder
Sparks from kindling all the place at once?
XV
Or else kiss away one’s soul on her?
Your love-fancies!—
A sick man sees
Truer, when his hot eyes roll on her!
XVI
Thus the craftsman thinks to grace the rose,—
Plucks a mould-flower
For his gold flower,
Uses fine things that efface the rose.
XVII
Rosy rubies make its cup more rose,
Precious metals
Ape the petals,—
Last, some old king locks it up, morose!
XVIII
Then, how grace a rose? I know a way!
Leave it rather.
Must you gather?
Smell, kiss, wear it—at last, throw away!
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As I look upon the rich glistening hills
And the blue sky, I gasp in awe.
Not at its beauty, but at how intricate, delicate, deliberate
And beautifully they were made.
Every hill, every shred of grass and every cloud.
I think of how I was made and I am amazed.
If my God created all these around me
And my God created me,
How beautifully and gently did He make me?
I rejoice and praise God,
I praise Him that He made me.
With a heart and soul to feel,
Rejoice and delight in all creation.
Suddenly, all my worries all feel futile,
Worries about my future, my calling, my spouse, my family, my children, my life... everything.
If God created everything on the face of this earth with such grandeur,
And He said we were the greatest creation He made...
The only creation He loved enough to die for, then how beautiful would His plans for my life be? How beautiful would my family be?
How beautiful would "this painting" (me) be, when it is completed by my painter?
His final masterpiece. We are His final masterpiece. What else can we do but live in His presence all our lives and do whatever He calls us?
Since He is the author and finisher of our lives, He perfects everything He touches. My soul cries out to my Lord, "Praise the Lord, praise the Lord forever and ever, amen."
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 10:12 AM UTC
*I see people
Heart broken
Just like I have been
I see them
I watch them cursing love
Trying to move on
You know
Why there is
All this misery?
Love
Is a healer
Only when minor
It cures the broken
Perfects a smile
And keeps you hoping
But love itself
Is not perfect
Just like you, just like me
It may leave you broken
Haunt your smile
Steal your desires
But let's not
Put the blame on love
Lets not bury it
For it deserves a chance
Like you and me
Let's keep its traces
Though
You need not to
Depend on love
For your happiness
Should lie within
You, your God and music
Be the thunder
To the stormy nights
The rainbow after a rainy day
And to me
This and only this is
The truth about love*
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 1:02 PM UTC
I break glass;
glass against.
Perfect blade of perfect glass perfects a pane of perfect grass
So perfectly green and glass breaks blue and green glass
On glass.
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 12:55 AM UTC
am i allowed...
-
honestly, i think not
she's up there with the perfects
singing in the heights
dancing with the stars
-
but still i'll look...
Oct 12, 2020
Oct 12, 2020 at 1:31 PM UTC
Future Springs
With hoarfrost the sustaining element to speak of love as you mix it with the telling breeze I know the
Measure of your heart its volumes weigh upon my senses to resist a sudden kiss would be to Miss Bliss
The glow surely bestows mountain heights and the texture of uncommon air we are paired together
That all magic of existence we can equally share like the plants that grow close to the water fall that
Cascades without end luxuriant sunlight shine the green tops fuse and make greenest gold the color
Flows through the eye a sigh is heard it copies the surrounding reality and wedges in to the crevice of
The rock one is weak but by taking its place in the rock face it becomes invincible days without end it
Surveys the great deep valley below does it wonder how it would be to cross vistas so grand would the
Delight match what is already being bestowed though beauty would be found you can be assured but
The dryer clime would stress one who always is cooled by the eternal spray and who would want to
Lose moisture and air and sun that perfects life and promotes success in unequal terms you have placid
Dreams that form deep below and truly stream forth water’s glory in sweetest detail they were passing before your
Presence so you do go not only into the valley but at so greater lengths that are unimaginable the
Waters mix with the birds either the water fowl are gliding to a landing or the egret alights its nest
Just above the waters so blue and cool you were the one who blessed and sent it on its way the winding
Day ever refreshed by what comes its way the heights always shares now let us do likewise Happy New
Year
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 12:37 AM UTC
I used to have this song on repeat.
It brightened up my day, and it followed me to sleep.
Like a child that picked his number one candy,
I adored it; eating from the palm of my hand, word after word.
And as I hummed the melody, I hummed...
As if it were the only existing, most beautiful sound in the world.
Now, hidden in the dark, far from daylight; my heart breaks.
It takes me by surprise every time; God knows I cannot fake.
I close my eyes slowly, it all starts to feel heavy.
Every stroke on the guitar, the bass remains steady.
Can you hear the drums, and how Anthony perfects it?
The rhythm revives the used-to-be, reminds me it was not meant to be.
Sing for me, please, play it once again for me.
I listen, chords and words. And it is finally dawn, sunrise becomes me.
Pain, it brings no more. Sad tears, I ceased to accumulate.
I am not bitter: to this song, him, I no longer associate.
Lyrics and melody, Red Hot memories; from this day on, intertwined with mine, only mine.
I see love from my shades. Created a new memory; untainted, bright like sunshine.
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 5:07 PM UTC
a heap of bile gathers in my throat
as i watch my world go up in smoke
and fail to understand the purpose of regret that's spoke
in my mind i painted the vision
and the brush perfects the image at every stroke
yet reality reminds me the paint must dry
before it can offer any hope
there it is; excuses, here they come
that's me.. always trying to alter the picture when it's done
because the sight isn't what i hoped to see
and here i stand; starting from square one
fear sets in and i feel i just may choke
so i try to erase what it has become
but it's too late; and i can't even cry
this has never happened to me
i'm lost and i'm free
and a part of me has died
tell me, what is it really like?
to see your world go up in smoke?
to create a picture unlike one you've ever seen, to feel that scream in your throat?
to paint a picture you just cannot change no matter how many times it's been erased?
to not give up, not give in but just let life take it's place?
i touch the canvas;
it's rough at the edges,
but it's smooth inside
which tells me i can still attempt a change of heart
even after the paint has dried.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 10:24 PM UTC
They told me to wait,
So wait I did,
Until weeks turned into months turned into years.
Then she came along
And I said, 'fuck it.'
Worst time to be so flippant.
The result was a three year roller coaster ride
That ended like the Hindenburg.
Nice.
Next, I turned to the nocturnal comforts,
Selecting hour-long companionship
With a click of the mouse
That ends with the closing of the window
Tossing of the damp tissues in the bin
And stepping out for a smoke,
With Jay Chou crooning in my ear
Singing of love new and lost.
Closing my eyes
My memory summons my gramps.
Those Japanese devils
My grandfather would tell me,
Lighting up another Marlboro
Before launching into another rambling tirade
About the misery of post-war China.
*I'll ******* **** you if you get with one--
Disown you, even.*
Rest his soul.
Does Maria Ozawa count, gramps?
Would you **** me
Or give me a high-five?
(I'd get smacked for being insolent.)
Bamboo switch in hand
Grandma would sit me down
And tell me how they used to fight over sewer rats
With other refugees for dinner.
Grandma, you'd shake your head
If I tell you about the rats
I have to work with
On a daily basis.
Your move.
(Oh wait, you're dead.)
The wisdom of my forefathers
Fossilized in ancient Chinese tomes
Extolling the virtues of patience
There are gem fragments to be found in the waiting.
One perfects oneself as one waits
For the time to ripen.
Life passing you by
Is naught but an illusion.
In the meantime
I've resigned myself
To wherever the mercurial turns of life
Take me.
I'm happy with the status quo.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 3:59 AM UTC
You said you’d have me in five years,
You knew how I young I was then
It’s been almost ten
That morning we lay there.. Perfectly honest
Perfectly naked
And we knew that that was the end
But those visions never ended
Those nights never stopped
In my thoughts we were tangled
Like lovers who knew no end
Sometimes All I remember are your stockings
Sometimes I remember You trying take a better position
To feel more stretched up against my chest
But, what I remember most is the light and the skin
The knowing before the night began
We knew what we were
Hoping that we might be more
Than the morning
Now I can only dream about you
You have become my lesson
The other world
Another place
Hope in a desperate time
The secret that life is cruel
And in its cruelty I am its fool
Last night I dreamt we lived together with my mother
I spurned you as we sat naked, your ******* perfects still
Your stomach relaxed as you sat on your knees
Half covered
In sheets
And to my mother you ran
Ignoring me
Avoiding me when, like in a ballet I followed you
Following my mistake
Desperate to correct
The mistake I made in those days of youth
The tragedy of reason
The foolish responsibilities we feel we have
To those other than ourselves
You were my lazy lover
A lover for whom and with whom I was too young
You flowed over me with your passion
My passion was yours to have
And I gave it to you like it was all I had
Now I have none
None for life but ornaments
Ornamnets who are the trophies of second place
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
she thinks herself
as my messenger
I am the mirror
she reflects
on which miraculously
the revelations
regularly appear
whenever we meet
we talk in the lingo
of wind and water
we walk hand in hand
along the bank of
our favorite river,
that none would find
in time and space
we love dancing around
the fire we create for ourselves
she turns a singer
only when the urge
fully overpowers her.
we know no anger,
we embrace
the winds of change
like it's a long lost brother
I am her song with
the words she perfects,
meaning I make sure
goes beyond and hit
the center
in our town there isn't
any pair like us,but we've
never thought that way
even once
we aspire, never despair
we are children of nature
cosmic love bug is our signature.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 8:52 AM UTC
You. Impossible. Incredible. Inconceivable.
You make my head spin just thinking of you.
How is it possible you do everything with such beauty?
such grace, maturity, hinting at perfection.
How is it that every word you say seems to make me
want more. i hang off your every word.
your perfects words. your magical words. your true words.
i can only wish i still had the chance to marvel at you.
to peer behind the walls. to see the strings of thoughts
slowly unravel to reveal someone impossible.
but that is impossible; and there is the irony.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 6:22 PM UTC
Beware humans, you remember
that you have a limit.
Beware you foolish humans, you are crossing a line.
Beware idiot humans, for the shiver up your spine.
I see the ones who cross the line of human
I see the ones who push themselves to inhuman
You! You humans, are you giving me a threat?
I foreshadow your dooms, the money you bet
No creature has gone this far! Aren't you afraid?
Can't you see the destruction you already raid?
Beware! None is perfect! Be the way you are
Press to your skins and feel! The proud white scars
Enough is enough! Now beware you foolish!
Mountains are crumbling, mammals look ghoulish.
Beware you humans, I will repeat!
Until you sob in rubble of the broken streets.
Beware! The perfects who represent your knifes.
You use your brains to spoil your lifes.
Don't you growl at me, you terrible creatures!
You have no one to blame for they are your features!
Beware you humans- I repeat, beware!
Last time I tell you, no mercy no care!
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 6:26 PM UTC
.*who said... that German was, unbefitting to fulfill the concerns for the operatic?! Germans sing the most... nettopern known to man... their baroque reinterpretation... shudders the body to usurp all the ancients' phobias borrowed from the Greeks... goosebumps and... **** like:
freude, schöner götterfunken,
tochter aus elysium,
wir betreten feuertrunken,
himmlische, dein heiligtum!*
but then again...
anemia with the Wagner...
come: walhall..
come Chopin...
and an... orchestra!
you are born, to be lived...
and what questions you have,
are questions indeed,
but they are rudimentary...
and asked,
even if asked at all...
at what could be
beat estimated
the worthy time...
beside the / outside
the mortal script...
known as... life;
how does that feel?
when feeling
perfects
the "art" of the implosion
of thought?
the, missing moral "ought"
of the narrative?
the lost, theta?!
how does, that, "feel"?
all, emotion,
yet, seemingly,
no, thought?
how does that feel...
mother?
ship, micro-cosmos of
quasi-Braille telegraph...
how, does, i, "feel", mother?
the complexity of human expression,
within the confines
of the childish beginning,
culminates in the banal finality of...
that, which, is mortal...
that, which, is mortal...
will always over complicate the sentence...
and make life, almost causeless.
we are all but wagers,
in a game that consist of nothing more
than a win, or a loss...
a game, waging...
falsely perpetuating
a gain... mortality...
and a game waging...
not falsely perpetuating
a loss... again: mortality....
why should i forgive
the bass guitar omission in modern
music?!
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 8:36 PM UTC
A woman reborn
Living off the high of you,
A melody that plays over and over on my mind.
Memories overlapping fantasies,
because what is real
Seems surreal…
Linking hearts and minds, passions and dreams,
I want to swim in your pool of serene,
And bathe in your essence of masculinity
And feel refreshed, ready to be reborn
Into this new woman,
One who has been locked in chains for so long…
Can we create a new song?
Where I sing
And let your fingers press
Against...and produce the beat
Inside my heart.
You are the creator of my soul
And I am the singer of the song
That we produce,
One that we have been anticipating for too long…
Floating off the keys of love,
No discordance to this union
For once I have someone who understands
The music that flows in me,
Who perfects my every melody,
Whose skilled hands caress every inch of
My imperfections…
I love him... for he is the Creator of my soul,
He makes me whole….
Kena SunGoddess Dawn 2011
Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 9:21 PM UTC
I first scoped your ***
the glare of a gaze
moving up your chest
so clear, my thoughts could touch your *******
My heart pulsated
as with rhythmic muse
like a sonata created
within shades of midnight blue.
The appeal of your pose
enticing, like fire red diamonds
you burn my soul
giving me new strange desires.
Your lust of naked pipe dreams
henna in your hair
touched by falling sunbeams
how it flared.
I stared, resistless
like a moth burned by light
your hips paralyzed me
at first sight.
I'm caught in a haze
your beauty with complexity
got me caressing you, finessing you
out of your satin white *******
Your naval exposed in this place
and from the heat you perspire
sultry, exotic of taste
as I take you ever so higher.
**** in your own right
from head to toe
beautiful, everything fine
you should know-
you move me like strong ****
floating, intoxicated, choking
on the pearl of your seas
the dynamics, motion, dreams.
Your lips are of honey
tantalizing my mind
and your walk is all to me something
when you come by.
Silver moons at your feet
as I penetrate your garden
potent, you reek
the scent of aromatic blossoms.
Digging deep between your thighs
I can make lava flow
seismic reactions
till your soul rise.
I can bring you to ******
in this *** love, wet
****** positions
till ******* your brain affects.
Let me explore your mind
the distance to the size
till fluid flows down your legs
like the Niagara Falls.
I'll make you weak,
your body hot
like saffron... take flight
as I lick your thighs tonight.
Your ******* turgid
like grapes from the vine
I can be your dream lover
and each emotion define.
In the ****
me and you
foreplay on your ********
as ****** movements come in rhythms.
Do you feel me
I can see us clearly
me bouncing your pretty ***
in the moonlight.
Every deep stroke
poetry I wrote
pushing with intensity
till you moan.
This passion is strong
in and out till dawn
all around till you ***
call my name thereof.
You're fine, no lie
your form inviting
I can't stop writing
these seductive lines.
Your fingers outline my chest
the strength, virility
your submission demands
with each caress.
She is of regal beauty
Nefertiti of sunlight shades
and nights of seduction
only perfects her way.
Jul 26, 2020
Jul 26, 2020 at 7:00 PM UTC
I live in a world made up of rejects
A world full people who are different than those perfects
An odd habit here, a weird thought there
I don't like it, and I know it's not fair
But it is my home
And if you try to take me from my world, from my home
As They are doing now
I will make you scream, I will make you moan
Because really the freaks that are my friends are the perfect ones
And you are the rejects
So please, don't make me face the people who hate me
Why are you doing this
I had a good life at home
And now I have to try
To become "perfect" because of you
Because of the house that you want to be my new home
Because of the school that you want me to be in
Because you want me to perfect
But I'm not
Mar 23, 2010
Mar 23, 2010 at 5:12 PM UTC