"perilous" poems
I am loud,
Demanding attention.
I know when I am being charming
Because I try.
I put on my impressing face
And do my impressing hair
And speak my impressing words.
I tell you my embarrassing drinking stories
And everything else about me
That you probably shouldn’t know.
I am not good at being quiet
Because that’s not who I am.
I am not the sweet girl
Who will leave you with a smile
And a touch
And a glance
Or a single word.
There is nothing of this fashion of romance
About me.
I am the girl who will point out your flaws,
And take you outside to see the stars,
And remind you how human you are,
And what a wonderful thing that is.
I am the girl who will talk about science,
And music and theology and history,
And point out constellations, laughing,
When you don’t know the big dipper’s name.
I am the girl who will make witty references,
To classic literature and science fiction,
And will tell you stories of how I once,
Made a gingerbread replica of a lighthouse.
I am the girl who will stand on a table,
And sing at the top of my lungs on the highway,
And act like a chicken or quail or velociraptor,
Or nuzzle your face like a lion to make a point.
I am the girl who takes too many shots
And then coaxes you to bed on a Russian liver,
And knows all the right places to bite, and tease,
And follows with exceptionally coherent pillow-talk.
I am not a thin silk scarf on the wind.
I am not a thing hard to capture.
You would not spend a perilous journey
Through a wild, perfumed jungle,
Searching for my slender garments
Hung beside a pool
As I wail to the breeze.
Rather, I am the bird who flies overhead
Making too much noise
Distracting from the trail ahead.
A bird whose plumage proves
What an interesting life it must be…
What a colorful life for me…
Perpetually strange
The lone comic relief.
I am many things.
But I am not quiet.
Of this I am sure.
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 6:27 AM UTC
Within the fields of grace
and moving waltzing wheat fields
moves the spotted feline with pace
black tears run down its face and yields
to the sun's tangerine gaze
The rythmic thomping of paws through grass
with undivided focus so clear
every step as fragile as glass
sounds perilous behind this feeble deer
Colossal strides that fly through air
pefected anatomy claws down its goal
rules of nature have never been fair
but one must know the key is survival
this deer now knows its fatal fate
is nature's gift to the cheetah's plate.
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 2:42 PM UTC
PLEDGE TO NIGERIA
By: Adigun Temitope Idealism
From between heaven and earth stand a perilous place
Where poverty kicked us on face
Tears stand as our drinks
Where hunger eat up our meals
Our pain is a poisonous laughter
Where sadness becomes our daily activities
Where hardship becomes our ambition
And sorrow our career
Still, we need to pledge to Nigeria
Blood, bone and oil,
Are the pedestal of earth
Where killing is a lifestyle
And ****** a hobby
Where humiliation becomes our take home
And misfortune our store-house
Where graduate works by the road-side
Where poverty is titillating and titivating before the mirror of our land
Yet we need to pledge to Nigeria
Pledge to Nigeria
Even when the birds refuses to sing,
When moon dims its light,
When our days turn into nights
When sun fails to shine
And flowers refuse to bloom
When life fails to give reasons
When dreams refuse to forgive
When the weep inside birth the smile outside
When tears wash hope from our sight
Nigeria must still be pledge to
I pledge to Nigeria
Not to be one if the ambassadors that sing the National Anthem with a teleprompter smiling at them in a shameful tears
I pledge not to be a naked masquerade dancing at the village square
I pledge to steal government money for the poor when I become the President
I pledge to be loyal and not betrayal
I pledge to fight off vices and calamities with my pen
If democracy must to end
I pledge to go crazy to stop it to the end
If civilization was to make us stupid
I pledge to swim in stupidity not to be civilised
I pledge, I pledge
©2015 Adigun Temitope Idealism (Deacon)
#Muse #PurposefulPoetry #BPM #IIB #Asaplanet #ThoughtAndSociety #Poetfreak
blackpridemagazin.simplesite.com
@blackpridemag1
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 3:11 AM UTC
*Transient happiness
Drought in our heart
Emotionless
Passionless
Love’s an oasis
We are
Weary travelers
Unaware of
The ramifications
Of unloved Earth
Nature’s revolt
Will encage us
Within our faults
Overzealous we are
Perilous future
Awaits us*
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 11:39 PM UTC
_To Polina, my anchor, through all my lives_
Between dawn and dusk
on the precipice
in shades of scarlet
stood a magnificent house
Strangers and I were enthralled
by the neon red foyer where
Francesca and Paolo welcomed us
to the house of a thousand doors
Each door an invitation
to delicious desire
each room a seduction
of perilous passion
One door opened —
three bare women holograms
drank from a small lake and
brandished wicked, feline smiles
At my feet a church of cardinals
glowing with tears, heat and sweat
whimpered in their prayers
but the pope watched from afar.
He speaks—
the mouth at once is an eye, an abyss
and a hurricane from Pandora's box
Then I am I no more — a cardinal in crimson —
but no shame or guilt guides me
when blood-red lips land on mine
"Do you not see
there is equal courage
equal purity
in giving
into
temptation—
the kind
that appals the devil
to revel
in the hurt, the open wounds,
and the agony
to dive deep—
into the depths
and say all the yeses
to embrace the darkest demons
of your soul?
Enter—
and you shall find
hell or heaven within yourself."
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 1:37 AM UTC
I see the beauty in a palm‑sized tomato
growing afloat on Inle Lake—
the one-legged fisherman
silhouetted, perilous
against his wooden boat,
against the slow-setting sun.
Thin echoes of beauty linger:
hundred-year ruins, temples, stupas
standing with pride,
The culture of longyi
worn with quiet delight.
I took the train that loops
through buildings, markets, houses, plantations—
a city, a country
shadowed by a darkness
yet to reckon with its genocide.
The cries rise, unacknowledged.
“Mingalaba,” says a Burmese lady,
her face painted with thanaka,
the ground bark a pale mask
in the sun’s scorching glare.
She sits near Dyamayanggi Temple,
a basket of snacks at her side,
offering them with a smile.
Joy comes chasing the sunset
in the land of a thousand pagodas.
A mystical climb,
a striking landscape.
I breathe, feel, wish to stay longer,
soaked in twilight.
For a fleeting moment,
with eyes closed,
I drown in the colours
of the golden sky.
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 10:03 PM UTC
Communication/ medium of the mind
Improper transfer; difficult time;
Gears and pistons fire steadily
Words are formed and jump out readily
Filtered or not; good or bad
A possible high, or impossible sad
An idea new, bright, and free
A rain cloud of dark, of which you can see
The freedom erupts! The face celebrates
The storm corrupts, the eyes retaliate
A perilous game played (by two) together
An exchange we somehow all get through
A skill we improve with each Endeavour
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 8:38 PM UTC
Just Let It In
this
language,
the perplexity
of this language,
is damaging to me.
how can there possibly
exist such an impeccably
imposing combination of
words that still manage to destroy
a soul as wasted as mine? somehow
words discover these fine little cracks in
my wall, as thin as the head of a pin. words
are like water, rushing into whatever space they
can invade, occupying whatever volume they discover.
this water trickles through the fragmented spaces, traveling
all the way to my heart, transforming me in the way they seem to
alter us all. it is these words that i take with me. words reverberate in my mind,
disrupt me to my core, degrade me. your words are the ones i perpetually carry with me...
any...all of them. yours are the ones that elicit the simultaneous firing of every
single neuron in my brain. there is something about the magic of your words
flowing together...whispered into my ear. they move through me like
a stealthy, lone snake, undulating in a field, stalking its defenseless
prey; slowly...at first glance, not appearing to be a perilous threat
...then piercing me all at once with fierce strength and
determination, devouring me without appearing to
acknowledge that maybe i still...still want to be.
to be whole. and i do. my body craves
the sensation of being complete,
not torn apart by the nonsense
of your daunting words
disrupting my spirit
and making me
despise the
necessity
of language.
i wish i could
void your words
from my brain, but
my mind is helplessly
inconsistent; i can never
forget what i long to,
scarcely remember
what i must; and
my peculiar mind
*
certainly* will never
forget the sound
of your words,
just like water,
flooding me.
taking me
over.
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 2:44 AM UTC
Manning up in Texas
Geldof overdose
needles at the bed stand
starlet comatose
California dreaming
killer meets demise
hurling in a taxi
puke fee on the rise
Fighting in the Gaza
Jordan's holy war
rebels on a mission
Jihad underscore
The North Korean riddle
pales in grand design
crisis on the border
planes fall from the sky
Cooking on a deadline
tempting tapenades
herbs are in the spotlight
wines that give a nod
Google maps the body
DOW at record highs
Uber comes to market
corn is on the rise
Apple on its earnings
Caterpillar dead
European sanctions
banks have **** the bed
Clippers threaten boycott
Longhorns follow purge
Lynch is out of training camp
James is on the verge
Leinart taking *** shots
coughing up a lung
lions take a licking
fans are throwing dung
Another day in Vegas
Primm from A-Z
rolling out an ankle
a flying SUV
Quiet tempting spaces
made better by design
multi color pea coat
silence fuels the mind
Stabbing in the subway
goat caught in a well
apes are selling tickets
(but leave behind a smell)
Puberty on trial
a man without a head
teachers feel alone
lets take them to the shed!
Jonah's tomb destroyed
wreckage in Mumbai
Sugar Daddy sites
Freedom 85
The immigrant debate
Russia's mounting toll
unions on a mission
heads are gonna roll
Beaches for the nudists
hotels on the cheap
the best generic brands
a list you have to keep!
Planning your estate
questions from the camp
a mansion up for sale
where once they filmed The Champ
Midwives threaten action
aboriginal act
truckers want concessions
that train has left the track
Sharks are found in Fundy
a prized but perilous catch
food we love to hate the most
an irrefutable batch
A family on the brink
I want my kids to fail!
politicians drains all hope
a ban on Israel
Follow out each headline
let the columns be your guide
all these things did happen
the day that Newhouse died
Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 10:29 AM UTC
Let us paint our canvasses on WOMEN!!
Curious I stand to unravel your perception of a woman
Would you weigh her as a piece of wonder or a gruffly aggressive thunder?
She is extraordinary, gorgeously efficient, solely independent!
The love she embraces is wider than the infinite heaven and deeper than the fathomless sea.
The shallow world with its profound hypocrisy,
Banters with a judgemental frown.
The world has changed, and so has she.
It has known the beautiful rose, tarnished by its prickly thorns,
Only the delicate rose, the world, with its abysmal critics, abides by to adorn.
She knows her paths, truly determined to achieve her goals,
Her patience deserves a salute, her tremendous sacrifice only to satisfy our souls.
Dare never to shred the lovely red petals, not knowing her darings!
For also the thorns in her are perilous, to blemish a wound till your last.
With her chin up and a gaze so ferocious, ocean of wisdom she is vast.
She rises, she grows, taking a free flight, venturing to claim new heights,
She is benevolent, a ray of sanguine sunshine to your forlorn nights.
Walking proud, believing in who she is, glimmering like a star!
Born strong she is, refuses to be judged by her scars.
She is the teller of her tale, over fears and worries she will prevail.
A miracle of God, with a sweet lingering fragrance she leaves a trail,
Of patience, commitment, empathy, and unfaltering fortitude !!
by ~Mihika Rohatgi
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 10:50 PM UTC
Winters can be tedious.
Sun dips into early dusk.
A dead fire refuses to ignite.
There's a quick repetition
of opening and closing blinds
over a barred window.
In need of reflection
I search a familiar face
in an unfamiliar landscape.
I have her in my grasp,
half illusion, half real,
a symbolic mask denies
her true face,
her glittering crown
divides us by its radiance.
Groping in darkness,
I stumble over objects
of wood and stone,
my unsteady tread tripping
over their contours.
I light a candle.
Bathed in amber light,
our shadows merge.
A new door opens,
stretching the perspective.
No formal borders here,
they wouldn't survive
the present climate.
In their place,
intricately carved
figureheads and totems-
a vision of the past.
My eye is a camera,
retinas branded with imagery
for the photographer's delight-
coloured pebbles, carved wooden animals,
tin cans, bones.....
....A Glass Sentinel
(though she isn't visible)
I can see right through her-
a vision of smokescreens
and subterfuge.
Past stumps of driftwood,
past the uncut grass,
a few flowers...
...to the fabricated backdrop
of a burning house, black smoke
rising
in
a
thin
stream.
At the open door -
The Guardian,
(I know her inside out)
unmoved,
(she didn't bat an eye)
defiant in a new skin,
a softer version-
The Mother protecting her children,
arms splayed, prepared
for fight or flight.
A russet flame
Licking her spine exhales
'Get out of my way!'
but she wasn't listening.
Smile fixed,
eyes of a phoenix,
a lion,
a raptor,
protector.
We all need feeding,
but not this way!
Throw me a cloth,
a napkin,
a man-size tissue
a lifeline!
She wanted this,
no, wished it-
this symbolism,
this burning of ironic portraits,
to clear the deck,
make way for new.
It shook the house,
its fate sealed behind closed doors.
I compose myself,
pull her back from the perilous edge,
gather her in my arms.
Fragments of shattered words
flutter in the ether.
What is real?
What is fiction?
A carbon copy of thousands?
A charred corner?
A forgotten candle?
WARNING:
'Eating fire' is a risky business
but can attract a large audience.
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
resuming vogon poetry
altering website logos
pretending everyone cares
playing "east hastings"
asphyxiating well-nigh denouement
depicting twitter status
obfuscating coincident deletions
translating from Sḵwx̱wú7mesh
assuring Sḵwx̱wú7mesh exists
painting skwiḵw's mother?
decrying micropolitical maelstrom
imbibing fireball fountain
inundating lexical foofaraw
crafting poetic wonders
desiring other mediums
remaining practically invisible
ending internet-only depression
drafting noetic blunders
requesting astute clique
blazing perilous trail
aging ominous grisaille
depicting kmart realism
seeking darker groups
increasing pre-weekend laughter
appropriating communist symbols
making lone chuckle
offending worldwide communists
colonizing hello poetry
colonizing parallel universe
relaxing e-migration policies
пить чистую водку
photographing abduction scene
¿losing consistent format?
increasing bluebird insignia
avoiding frivolous legalities
striking astraphobic comments
assuming near-universal automation
lowering latent inhibition
traversing oneiric plane
laxwadding afebrile loodies
wallscaping pitchsourced chthonicities
closing one-star conveniences
sharing alien-looking alphabet
writing system downtimes
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
Slick grass glistened heavy
After summer showers fell before a sun
That trickled veiled toward transcendent trees
Towered on the outskirts of the demesne - It unsheathed
A pearlescent canvas for a dreamer who paints ideals;
A reader finding signs in smiles and glances
Strolling paths free of fear to free imagination;
Summoning hopes against a fresh red/orange
Backdrop, and ignoring perilous heights to cast
A thought to moments yet unlived -
This fool's masterpiece.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 8:07 AM UTC
life is so unexpectedly ordinary
next you jump right into adventure
turn of a corner changed everything
what lies ahead?
could it lead to my once up on a time
or a perilous downfall
the only way to tell is to have faith
and trust in your fate
I fall, jump and bound into this unknown
and hope it's the right choice
you and I will never know what is ahead
unless we try this path together
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 4:18 AM UTC
Everyday’s affliction with what we know is missing
Countless moments wishing that fishing was as simple as whistling
Remembering that willows wither in winters un-warmed
and wandering wonders willfully repose when rivaled against ripening woes
Come closer potential memories of exposes’
Clothes skydiving with expectations of faceplanting into the floor
Lady classifications disguise the actions depicting a *****
Heaping hopefuls cascade over glistening gazes that persuade the perilous to lay dormant
Come closer to the oops
That second guess in the back of your head that taps the shoulder and says go
That same go that was an initial no and now corruption has spidered the criteria
It seems the cat may have found the trick to the ball of yarn
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 10:26 PM UTC
Dear thirak,
I'll keep you safe,
I'll keep you warm.
If ever there comes a storm,
Dare not worry,
Stay calm; I will be your charm.
I will take your hands and guide you through
this perilous journey of what life brings new;
Good or bad;
Happy or sad,
I will not leave you even when I'm mad;
I will walk with you till the skies turn blue;
all because my heart is true.
-Kes Long.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 8:58 AM UTC
This is the time lean woods shall spend
A steeped-up twilight, and the pale evening drink,
And the perilous roe, the leaper to the west brink,
Trembling and bright to the caverned cloud descend.
Now shall you see pent oak gone gusty and frantic,
Stooped with dry weeping, ruinously unloosing
The sparse disheveled leaf, or reared and tossing
A dreary scarecrow bough in funeral antic.
Then, tatter you and rend,
Oak heart, to your profession mourning; not obscure
The outcome, not crepuscular; on the deep floor
Sable and gold match lustres and contend.
And rags of shrouding will not muffle the slain.
This is the immortal extinction, the priceless wound
Not to be staunched. The live gold leaks beyond,
And matter’s sanctified, dipped in a gold stain.
3.3k
the end is now in sight
terror comes encroaching
don’t let the perilous dusk
douse the flame that leads you
the dream inside you burns
yet darkness wants to dim it
when you want to quit
hear the summit calling
and when’s the sky’s sunlit
and faith is at its brightest
the blackness strikes again
the apex is still higher
tho’ energy now spent
you vow to keep on going
just when the crest you’ve reached
you slip and fall now dangling
hanging by a nail
a famine then come robs you
feed on your inner will
to see your destination
you break free and go on
the wind strikes now the hardest
resist not but take flight
set sail to elevation
your spirit will not break
your eye’s upon the zenith
but next the snake will bite
let passion be your tonic
it burns right through your veins
your skin molting peels off you
metamorphosis has changed
the venom to elixir
then illness strikes quite fierce
you sink into a deep trench
reach down throw up your twine
towards the light you see it
no strength left yet still walk
you are not to be broken
stop gasp and catch your breath
you are at the top now
a phosphorescent light
envelops all around you
spin it into gold
throw rope to those still climbing
you who’ve scaled the mount
tho’ scarred have high ascended
fear’s an illusion here
love’s altitude has conquered
never give up hope
tho’ night is at its cruelest
hang on to see the sun
the pinnacle is magic
©2016janetaylor
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
*Cimmerian Chaos, incediary
The Requiem of the Revenant:
Tis I,
The Breathing Song
Conjuring a vestige,
Ensorcelled by what I'd been envisaging.
Maimed by Tempus, The Temporal Arbiter
Words reverberating on the wavelength of my soul
Left me vibrating desolate and wayworn.
Utterances deluging me in the Dominion of Doubt
Until I reached a crossroads
For perilous was the pilgrimage I peregrinated.
The Penultimate Tribulation has begun
And though angst is festering in my flesh,
The Sacred Lotus of Dreams has not wilted,
Shalt it ever upon the Lake of the Holy Oracle;
Elysium of the Soul is awaiting those who are stalwart
In the Visage of the Shadows.*
∞Hallelujah∞
By Sanders M. Foulke III
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 5:32 AM UTC
I told you not to pardon me
cause I couldn't let you count on me
but you put every bet on me against all odds...
I told you to hide your soul
instead you gave me heart mind and all
I told you I was a thorny road
you walked it bare footed
wincing at every *****
believing that right ahead things would change...
I told you I was a broken Eagle
but you believed you could fix my wings
I was a volcano waiting to erupt
you wasn't afraid of the larva, thought you could adapt
I told you I was splinters
and you started picking up the pieces
I told you I was hell
and you said you wanted to dance with my demons
When I revealed that I knew not how to dance
you said life's a lesson and you would be my teacher
"What if the song of our affection ends?"
I questioned with the belief that love's just a word
but you assured me that we would keep dancing
even after the song's gone silent...
because that's what real love's do
or at least we would dance until you found all the shards.
I told you I was a labyrinthine jungle
and you right away took adventures in my wild
even when I told you I was a wrecked ship lost at sea
you said that'd you'd find me free from the ecstasy
of this perilous world...
I told you I was a desert ...
but you were okay with sand and sweat
even thirst didn't scare you away
I told you I was a thunder-storm waiting to rain
malady and you said you've known such kind of pain,
you've withered storms that left you Ocean wet
so it wouldn't hurt playing in the rain again...
I said I was a wilting rose
and right away you started watering my hopes
with tender sprinkles of care
and weeding out despair
with endless promises to always be there...
I told you I was frozen inside and incapable of loving
and you said you'd place me in your warm embrace
and bare the icy chill for eternity
if that's what it took to melt the snow...
I told you I was all wounds and painful scars
you responded with "I know..."
and you said even Angels are not perfect...
I told you I had nothing but me to give
and you told me I was everything you always wanted
I tried not to believe
but I was enchanted...
I said I loved you not because you said it too
or because I ran out of excuses
but because it was true...
and because I was tired of pushing away
those gifting me a second chance...
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 3:08 PM UTC
Deep In the Universe of which we perceive but a fraction:
Exist an All encompassing Mighty Goddess of Compassion,
Whether scrying a Luminous Being immune to any curse,
Or a simpleton Women, with a few worries to nurse,
Whether at home, or some world's distant shore
Whether sentient ones in distant Heaven adored
Whether in silence or at war, Goddess we whisper or roar!
Wisdom sweet like the Nectar of a thousand peaches
Worlds at Peace, Passages to Endless Realms within our reaches
For Love, Peace above us to Crusades beneath
A Goddess Bold, a Heart of Blissful Eternal Heat.
We fight, and strikes red devils, black knights
For the ones innocent with truthful plights,
Our Hearts in our chest, Truly Only One Holy Crest!
Hearts and Minds United with The Goddess, Eternally Blessed.
Whether one lost or confused,
Whether sad, much trust found, lost then misused
One who speaks dearly forever to those abused
Goddess of Compassion, Light with All Hues.
Even when facing immeasurable defeat.
Whether in the Cold Hells frost or Hot Hells heat,
Whether trouble or sinking fast and deep,
Or perilous journey through Mountains; passages steep.
Compassion an elixir and sword of eternal heat.
With Wisdom together, an improbable defeat.
(edited 9th May)
Whether evil in the Battlefield or crawling evil hidden
Reading Ancient Wisdom or Knowledge Forbidden,
Even if a thousand vile voices slander in unison,
The Goddess of Compassion Eternally, is Warm and Singing.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 12:38 AM UTC
because our dreams of leaf-canopies and lignin
arrive at a certain variety of green, we will zither
anew with song
here in Bulacan; all the leaves are capsized
brandishing inflorescences as naked as
the scent of petrichor girdled
on the cobblestones: they are forsaken not by
trees but by seasons only, a twofold deliberation
of caprice: there is only two of what is spoken.
such is the warmth and coldness,
missing their obvious targets, hesitant and abstruse,
scattered and at long last, never collected
deftly camouflaged in the familiar drapery,
“Tantusan mo!” as they cry for marks to remember,
we touch the cicatrix to measure with our jagged hands
how much we have forgotten.
what we cease to remember descends deep, as wash-hand basins
concur such depth,
into the well of ourselves, later to discover such
perilous foundling in the squall of either morning or evening,
still devoid of sense: still arguing whether there is much
to reconcile with what has been found and what has been pictured
now, altered by such loss: this is danger, and so is nothing,
swollen and tender, the waters of the estero reek of such
remembering – we cannot ignore its perfume, oddly taking the shape
of the next dagger slowly making its way towards the back
of the skull to pare with river-run precision, what we all
try to hold back inside; so as if to say,
“Tantusan mo!” to remember
where we last took off, like a heron,
or a bird, wary of distances.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
I'm a not-so-hopeless romantic,
I sealed a date,
somehow.
I flirted I thought
but I knew that I ought
to cut back on my perilous prowl.
My absolute closest best friend,
is in love with this girl,
it would seem.
I told him I like her
but he really likes her
and I can't help but feel mean.
(The girl) We've been friends for a while,
and I've always fancied her style,
but only recently text
(completely unvexed)
and decided to spark up a trial.
Now judge if you must,
but in Molly I trust,
and this girl wants to know how she feels.
So coated in sugar
her words without quiver
request that we share her appeal.
Alone in her room,
four hours and soon,
confused, tired and worn.
There's always the chance,
that our flirting advanced,
our careful responses
and cheekier choices,
will stump this chaotic lovelorn.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 4:47 PM UTC
Here comes The Change
That has the range
Of emotions
And demotions
And devotions
Of a perilous populous
That likes to raise a fuss
When they eventually learn who I am
And treat me like I'm the Son of Sam
To be specific
They discover I'm gay
And begin to filet
My mentality
In totality
For fatality
Merely by acting differently
If my sexuality isn't the first thing people know about me
I get to witness The Change
Like a dog with mange
I am shedding my hair
While screaming no fair
Because of the shift I see
Because of the **** I need
To make my heart bleed
There is a steady bellowing burdensome baggage
From those that want to ****** some *******
So I search for weight lifters
But only find shapeshifters
That become great grifters
When The Change occurs
And The Change burns
So The Change turned
Me into an interdimensional changeling
And an unintentional rage king
After they use words like flaming
Because the results are so draining
It becomes hard not to hate people
Who are inspired by hate steeples
They say I'm going to Hell
While I notice the smell
Of being buried in their banal ****
While they play their greatest hits
That are as unoriginal
As they are cynical
They say I'm a degenerate
An embarrassment
A parent's lament
I want to change into a carefree bird
Instead I stay in Hell with the herd
Wanting to escape like Lupin the Third
Rather than be oppressed like the Kurds
But there is no relief
Only re-grief
When changes aren't permanent
But The Change is
There's an illustration of my life
That will change your perspective
The picture is in my words
When the painting is what I choose to say
And the canvas is your mind
Whose textures I could never imagine
So I jump off a cliff blindfolded
Expecting to be changed once I land
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 6:13 AM UTC
Intensely, I traced his steps until he met
my eyes, the only gaze I welcome
with a reflection
of light, grey and hue of
excruciating colors—to serve
his mightiness in the forlorn night—
through the fields and the city,
everyone is following him.
Their mouth agape in the sight of
his face peering at his brides—in weeping, in despair, in all forms of wrath—hope and madness.
The moon creeps in the black of the night—with his voice lulling as a whisper, faint like a finger softly lingering its hands on the piano—
through the perilous scheme of the midnight dawn.
He then wept with his brides and kneeled down in front of me.
His linen gown and fur coat covering his silver body and his eyes shriek with only a weeping melody.
He faced me and my heart sank at the sight of him,
“My bride, how come you are facing such a horrible nightmare?”
He said and held my hand,
“Artemia, I am broken by the man whom I love so dearly. I faced death, inferiority, dreamless sleep, and my heart crawled out of my body,”
“Darling, you are a bride of the moon and a man will only love you if they get blinded by the light, and such us, we are the daughters of the night. A man who is in love with the moon, is out there waiting for you.”
He then walked away, faced another midnight with his bride gleaming with hope in the forlorn night, with the light, grey and hue of excruciating colors.
There, I saw how he turns into the god of the night.
Jan 23, 2021
Jan 23, 2021 at 11:02 PM UTC