"pervaded" poems
there nothing left
he says I'm so sorry
as superman eats kryptonite
it burns inside
the pain almost as bad as has been his hole life
but it's familiar
like a face you haven't seen in many years
Lois lane was shot and killed
because superman had loved her dear
and the farm was sold when Jon and Martha ran all out of years
so he sits around and wonders
hanging hollow from his fears
so he looks down at the bottles that have gathered on the floor
and calls up old Lex Luthor in a move to end the war
when he came his nose constrained as the smell of ***** pervaded
supper man gave him a gun
thanked him for the games
he told the tale from his perspective and asked lex to deal the blow
because he new he had worked for it and didn't want to take his goal
so with a bang his life was ended not a word more ever spoke
and to this day the name will still make pore old lex tear up and choke
Dec 31, 2010
Dec 31, 2010 at 3:28 AM UTC
I hear a calling
But I prefer falling
So I practice avoidance
It's a void dance
To an annoyed trance
To avoid a glance
Or taking a chance
People take pieces they don't plan on returning
The only replacement is the sensation of burning
In this hell
With no one to tell
Because I locked my heart
Which felt like a good start
Until loneliness pervaded my soul
And I can't climb out of this hole
I create isolation
When there's no inspiration
I discontinue integration
And go on permanent vacation
I watch movies
To feel groovy
I write
Out of sight
I play video games
To avoid shame
I decide to act lame
So no one asks my name
I begin to feel sour
In my lonely tower
I used to think independence was power
Until I found myself in my darkest hour
With only friends to help
The same friends I put on a shelf
That are now mythical like an elf
Is life just giving all my pieces away?
Disconnection leaves my life grey
But if I decide to stay
My love they will slay
They will toy with my emotions
Until I feel their encroachment
But I'd rather have a toy's chance
Than live my life in a void dance
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 11:28 AM UTC
A sapling restrained from its dirt prison
Wanting to sail across the vast seas
Yearning for liberation
Rain brew in the mighty sky
The little sapling endured valiantly
The sporadic growth of the sapling now on tie
Tempest devoured by the radiant sun
Absorbing nutrients from the sun’s jubilance
The days till maturity became none
The petals of the primrose began to blossom
A majestic scent pervaded the boundless air
The options veered from lean to awesome
Spain, Germany, Belgium, and France
Foreign mountains, towers, and customs
Now in sight from the blossom dance
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 7:28 AM UTC
These tears burn,
more than the razor.
Your smile was like ******
it pervaded my body.
Changing the chemistry of my brain.
The sun borrows it's light from you.
You make the ocean feel parched.
Too much of you is not enough,
while enough of you is dangerous.
I wish I had more time,
to taste your sugar coated lips.
I wish I had more time,
to breathe in your galaxy of scents.
I wish I had more time,
to live under your light;
engulfed in your darkness.
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 1:05 AM UTC
795
Her final Summer was it—
And yet We guessed it not—
If tenderer industriousness
Pervaded Her, We thought
A further force of life
Developed from within—
When Death lit all the shortness up
It made the hurry plain—
We wondered at our blindness
When nothing was to see
But Her Carrara Guide post—
At Our Stupidity—
When duller than our dullness
The Busy Darling lay—
So busy was she—finishing—
So leisurely—were We—
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The clock struck midnight
With an informative pang
I couldn't face it's music
So I turned counterclockwise
But time kept moving forward
As my wisdom dissipated
Bad times I anticipated
As I wandered through life
Burdens grew
Weight added with each step
My feet started to sink into the ground
So I got in my car
And drove
And kept driving
The more I traveled
The more I witnessed
The less I talked
As I grappled with the futility and necessity of communication
The clock warned of night's approach
I decided to continue driving
Luminous fireflies pelted my vessel
Their lamps exploding upon impact against my vehicle
The ability to destroy light
Exhilarated me
And I became addicted
To extinguishing that which shines
Until darkness flooded my engine
And an abysmal order was made by my abyssal odor
I had to exit my vehicle
And consult a mechanic
He explained my engine wouldn't work
Unless my windows were down
Which solved my darkness problem
But those ****** pests pervaded my car
Their locust glow disoriented me
The slight variations of their unique displays
Manufactured chaos within the light
My eyes grew accustomed to entropy
My brain grew accustomed to impairment
Commuters noticed my erratic driving
And offered to assist me
By attempting to ram me off the road
But the impenetrable light created a force field
Impalas couldn't run through
For my light bugs too much
Buffering me from others
And driving others from me
Leaving me alone
As a giant pulsating light that never stops moving
Is this how a star is born?
Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 3:13 AM UTC
I am the food but not mere taste,
I am the air but not mere breathe,
I am the odour but not mere smell,
I am the feeling but not mere touch,
I am the love but not mere emotion,
I am the destroyer of time but not mere time,
I am non-consequential but not unattainable,
light is just a happening of me but I am not the light,
I am darkness.
I am all-pervaded but utter stillness,
I am playful but utterly serious,
I am in absolute sleep or in utter wakefulness,
Universe is just a happening of me and I am nothingness.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 1:54 PM UTC
Maybe, when the dust settles,
I'll look up and find your gaze fixed on me.
You'll wipe the grit from your eyes,
Blown up by the turbulence we called our relationship.
You'll see past the cloud of doubt and fear and hopelessness,
That seems to have pervaded the sanctuary of your peace of mind.
And when the dust settles,
Maybe you'll still love me.
Because I can't stop loving you.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
They've sold their souls in the midst of humility
and super-pervaded occult, they've sacrificed
people just to get that fancy car, and that
mansion like paradise, and all that glamors on the
face of multi-universe, they are living in the era of
self-aggrandizement, and more doubtfully
contemplate christianity, they moved a step
further to promote atheism, the concept of
humanistic thought have been overthrown, and
decisions made under the philosophy of
postmodernity, depictions of reality are mystical
and emanate from the dark prisms, their
conception of glorification is different from the
society's, therefore I'm hateful and watching as
the world slowly chokes itself to death.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 4:09 PM UTC
The quirky signboard said it in bold
Welcome to the house of Sweet Fragrance
*Here your hair will be shaped in the finest mould
While you relax in blissful trance!*
I stopped by this name cute and smart
A hair losing shop called Sweet Fragrance
Tempted to go in though I needed no cut
Too impressed to keep a distance!
I stepped into a house with the finest smell
With the pretext to unburden my head of some hair
It was a Garden of Eden away from hell
A dreamy languor pervaded its air!
There wasn’t in the glasses a face to look
The place seemed a haven for the peacefully mute
I was offered a chair in the dimmest lit nook
To surrender myself to the forbidden fruit!
Time stopped blurred away my sight
I felt such bliss had no second chance
Knew why Adam embraced his plight
*Succumbed to Eve’s Sweet Fragrance!*
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 1:36 AM UTC
the orphanage's walls
tell a story grim
what went on inside of them
so disturbing
up to twenty children kept in one room
crammed in so tight
together they huddled
both by day and by night
the children's elfin frames
deprived of proper nourishing food
their eyes had within them
little of love's light
they cried incessantly
a cry which implored
someone to deliver them from
the wall's fright
stale ***** and excrement pervaded the air
the odor hovered in their despair
the institutes cleanliness
lacking of hygiene
not much was kept
too well cleaned
these children
shall be impaired for life
for they were caged in a warehouse
of diabolical neglect
by the Romanian authorities
as you tuck your children into bed
tonight
give a thought
for a child devoid
of benevolent sunlight
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
’Tween hither and thither we wended our way
skipping, dancing through sand dunes, in seascape croquet.
While woven in waves watching dolphins at play
I first tasted her lips in the ocean’s wild spray.
Mystic moonbeams, suffusing clouds’ shimmering sails,
unleashed us and whisked us down sensuous trails,
soon evoking the trills of untamed nightingales
as our passions pervaded green valleys and dales.
Being spectres of splendour in wanton sashay
we mastered our meaning in love’s matinee –
the breezes, in passing, slowed down to survey
blazing bodies embraced in youth’s blooming bouquet.
With the wind as our wings, till the Never we flew,
two gypsies, on junkets through dusk’s residue
gently floating like pollen to everywhere new,
so eluding pearled teardrops that paint the past blue.
Yes, we gamboled and gambled, two waifs led astray,
with our shackles afire and anchors aweigh –
rising higher and higher, the sun lured our sleigh,
teasing time was our temptress, night’n day after day.
Having stars in our eyes and all time as our view,
we’ve drifted, like dreamers where sprites rendezvous
and feasted on laughter and sipped morning dew
while rambling forever as one made of two.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 4:07 AM UTC
we all remember
where we were
watching the towers
burn and fall
knowing that things would
never be the same at all
disbelief at first, or
had an action movie
slipped into the news
no, it was real
and then twenty years
of vengeful repercussion
of military posturing
of suffering for many
we watched
the baddies being painted
good and evil
being redefined
virtue confused
impotence and power
conflated
lies and spin
consecrated
truth
alternated
idiot rich guys
promoted
tax for the poor
promulgated
democracy
desecrated
climate destruction
accelerated
by denialist
complacency
inequality
more concentrated
goodness and morality
infiltrated
by posturing political
pus weasels
venal vultures
of self interest
grasping for
short term dominance
and then ..
complacency pervaded
as absurdity
was accepted
as our new state of normal
and the height
of compassion
was owning a dog
and tut tutting
as refugees marched
across our news screens
and now we
bemoan being isolated
from being contaminated
we are mostly relegated
to stay in our mansions
while dinner is contemplated
have you been vaccinated?
Sep 11, 2021
Sep 11, 2021 at 4:32 AM UTC
Sug
The frame a town in the Midwest time teen years the person a girl I have been touched by the Smokies
Its southern magnificence the heritage it evokes, the Rockies awe inspiring, the Sierra Nevada its
Grandeur commanding sheltered by the San Gabriel’s as I played in Los Angeles these places have one
Thing in common they cause you to look out and beyond on the rich views below and they cause a
Mighty flood of memories to crash ever so sweetly in the soul yes plenty of teenagers were around but
For different reasons each uniquely stood out and apart all that made up the texture of this time its
Greatness the final touches were being added to our lives and from this we would go on the harder
Sometimes tougher road of life but in the midst of it all she stood like a Goldenrod impossible to miss
Bright yellow in the profusion of other vivid colors for Ed unforgettable she possesses an undertow of
Quiet Cool she didn’t make a great stir but a gentle one you slowly stepped and submerged yourself in
The Quiet magic she created truly the pebble had fallen into the pool imperceptibly you couldn’t put
You’re Finger on when but the circles continued to widen and you felt their effects a gentle hush
Pervaded our sometimes rambunctious lives she at times was that indefinable darker hue that brought
Depth to The picture soothing tremble that came into your life touched you then continued to the outer
Reaches Still it lingered and in its make up hope sprang up causing a defense ageist alarm no harm
Defied Her Charm this is just my simple way of saying thanks for being a wondrous part of my youth and
what I am today and also happy birthday Sug
Jan 10, 2012
Jan 10, 2012 at 2:02 AM UTC
the lockers rife with clowns and the frittering of time as the ***** boys got ready to work their ***** minds down at the ***** factory and boast about ***** things too often degrading and unkind.
I tried to stay out of it
until one officious co-worker
had the gall to ask,
“what’s your preference in women?”
whereby, my response was,
“I see my women like flavors;
white women are too bland,
black women are too flavorful and
Indian women are a bit over-seasoned.
you need the right amount of spice.
Latina women got it but they cheat
so, I’d have to go with Asian women.
they’re perfection is unmatched.”
laughter emerged and rumbled
down the grey factory walls
where the metal tin roof had rattled,
the ***** air pervaded with rust and tears
and a mouthful of peanuts were spat onto a grimy floor
they laughed and kept on laughing
until their bellies burst
never have they heard such
a response like that before
and I just went back to work,
treading in the depths of my own conviction,
not really seeing why I wasn’t
being taken so
seriously.
Jun 6, 2025
Jun 6, 2025 at 11:07 AM UTC
His breath tasted like ash
His hands felt coarse
The softness that once pervaded his personality
Gave way to a jagged precipice that was him incarnate
Why treat someone right if you have someone on the side?
Everything that I once recognized as beautiful
Now burns up in the wreckage that is his smoldering BMW
Maybe that ***** in his bed will get the message sooner than I did.
With a strike of a match, and about a gallon and a half of gas,
I go places,
But he won’t be able to.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 2:37 AM UTC
In retrospect,
I take a quick glance
A glance at our past
Lovebirds we once were
My wing you were
As your wing I were
To each other's *****
We drew ourselves
So as to fly
Merrily to the skies
Seeking beauteous horizons
Horizons filled with glamour
In retrospect,
As time sailed by and by
I lost my wing
A wing that meant the world
A world to me so blissful
Left in a daze I was
Aghast to my heart's core
Drifting by a violent sea
A sea of retrospections
Driven by tides
Tides of regrets
Past violent storms
Storms of doldrums
On yonder I drift
Drifting to an island
An island marred with despair
Where in a circle of confusion I wander
Wandering in an abyss
An abyss pervaded with loneliness
Wondering if at all
I could ever seek redemption.
While downcast
With relentless tears of anguish
Trickling down my cheeks
In despair I wail.
Drenched in doldrums
I reminisce of the splendor
And the novelty pulchritude
The pulchritude you bear
In retrospect,
Gone are the halcyon days
Days wistfully washed away
Away by the tides of time
In retrospect,
My heart craves thy love
A love that still lingers
In my riven heart
A heart that shall never
Ever ameliorate.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 6:21 PM UTC
I cannot forget with what fervid devotion
I worshipped the vision of verse and of fame.
Each gaze at the glories of earth, sky, and ocean,
To my kindled emotions, was wind over flame.
And deep were my musings in life's early blossom,
Mid the twilight of mountain groves wandering long;
How thrilled my young veins, and how throbbed my full *****
When o'er me descended the spirit of song.
'Mong the deep-cloven fells that for ages had listened
To the rush of the pebble-paved river between,
Where the kingfisher screamed and gray precipice glistened,
All breathless with awe have I gazed on the scene;
Till I felt the dark power o'er my reveries stealing,
From his throne in the depth of that stern solitude,
And he breathed through my lips, in that tempest of feeling,
Strains lofty or tender, though artless and rude.
Bright visions! I mixed with the world, and ye faded;
No longer your pure rural worshipper now;
In the haunts your continual presence pervaded,
Ye shrink from the signet of care on my brow.
In the old mossy groves on the breast of the mountain,
In deep lonely glens where the waters complain,
By the shade of the rock, by the gush of the fountain,
I seek your loved footsteps, but seek them in vain.
Oh, leave not, forlorn and for ever forsaken,
Your pupil and victim to life and its tears!
But sometimes return, and in mercy awaken
The glories ye showed to his earlier years.
1.6k
she gave me her headstrong face
left me feelin outa place
left me feelin like i had lost the space cadet race
then she pulled off her designer wares an i knew it wasn't the case
her mind is a frown
like its pervaded by a sad clown
like she is plundered holy ground
she just sits there open eyed without a sound
she gave me her headstrong face
but i just could not replace the shattered mind
no matter how unkind
fathead weak in her thoughts
ill at ease to where i had been brought
i just stood there mumbling
while her fingers did some bumbling
big wet smile on her face
left me feelin outa place
like i really did loose the space cadet race
kissing her headstrong face
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 4:26 PM UTC
Sirens, ballads of anguish are singing, ears are ringing,
Our nightingale is shrieking, and children are clinging.
Our Kalyna is red, but wrapped in blood now, not love,
From the massacres aeroplanes bring from far above.
My uncle, enters the now upside-down house of his,
“Welcome”, with a phoney grin, and wariness he says.
The house holding memories is now clogged rubble,
In the land that shall never greet occupiers or trouble.
His daughter's dreams shattered, for the reverie of filth,
It matters not; the nation of his deserves blood spilth,
We deserve not peace, but the delusions of a hag pass,
May he rest in peace, along with the delusion he has.
My mother may never hear the raindrops fall again;
Missiles seal ears with noise, and the death of men.
The men, women and children, who will lead us all,
Through scorched fields with whispers old and small.
She is a hairdresser, she might braid hair for the fun,
But other mothers, braid the hairs of daughters gone,
They keep them safe under a pillow where they smell,
The warmth of days before the dictator's missiles fell.
Red and black are the only colours they pervaded here,
They wish for our colours to diminish and spring adhere,
But beauty routs the devil of ugliness and his conceit;
Our colours saturate our resistance, painting your defeat.
They shall not sprout in our fields, like poisonous herbs,
They "rescue" us, but the gunshots my brother disturbs,
We did one day exchange our dreams for a pistol facing -
Facing the bear who is destruction, within embracing.
Blood accumulated in heaps on the sleeves of killers,
Like a marvel detested in a chapter of stained thrillers.
But thriller this is not, it is lives of the innocent lost;
He plays chess in reality, after a coin he has tossed.
Mothers, daughters, sons and fathers are everyday slain,
but spring soars today, prevails tomorrow - in Ukraine.
Apr 23, 2022
Apr 23, 2022 at 10:06 AM UTC
Through the silky lattice of what, why, when;
Through the ever-forking tunnels of time;
Through the maze of causes, iron and wine;
By the burning bridges, we met again.
“Though the stream flows, nothing really changes”
I thought, as she walked again by my side.
The night's musk pervaded and conjured the sight
of a blossom that flourished for ages.
Yet all moons must set, and that is a crime:
By the neon gardens of splendor untouched
I kissed her goodbye. Right then, as I watched
how she walked away, she turned one last time.
She said: “Closure can be the beginning.”
I wished it had not; the world kept spinning.
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 3:17 PM UTC
I dream with my hands
While my tongue fails
And my pillow only gives me sleepdust.
I make dreams without labels or names,
Whose fences have already pervaded reality
And whose power dies again each generation.
I construct bridges between words
With stones that will weather
Even the fickle storms of men.
When mouths change the shape of “pyramid”
My vast triangles will still blot out the sun.
And when new peoples forget my name
The ancient eyes of my statue will still open
So that maybe in a distant moment a scholar will say
“He was once called Ozymandias, King of Kings”
All because I will have dreamt with my hands
Yo sueño con mis manos
Cuando mi lengua falla
Y la almohada me da sólo legañas.
Hago sueños sin etiquetas o nombres,
Cuyas vallas ya han impregnado realidad
Y cuya potencia muere otra vez con cada generación.
Construyo puentes entre palabras
Con piedras que aguantarán
Aun las tormentas volubles del hombre.
Cuando bocas cambian la forma de “pirámide”
Mis vastos triángulos borrarán el sol.
Y cuando pueblos nuevos olvidan mi nombre
Los ojos antiguos de mi estatua se abrirán
Para que quizás en un momento distante un erudito diría
“Una vez, se llamaba Ozymandias, rey de reyes”
Todo porque habré soñado con mis manos.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 6:35 PM UTC
It's been a while
since feelings like these have pervaded, invaded, slipped through
the walls I built up.
I was afraid to trust
having been misused, mistreated, mistaken.
But you cured me...
it seems, I hope, I fear
with your incorruptible inculpability.
I was wary to let go, commit, reveal.
But you convinced me
it's okay
to express, abandon, accept.
So to me
it's quite new
(kind of hand-me-down new)
this feeling, experience, occurrence;
like closing a box,
hiding it away,
only to open it
much later
and find something:
new, developed, changed
better.
It's all so
strange, unexpected, exciting
incredible:
the way you make me feel.
I'm relearning
how to trust, to share, to grow
to love.
And,
despite my misgivings,
I long to grow closer, learn more, be free.
Because to me
you're unique
amazing
inspiring.
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 11:36 PM UTC
There was on Old Man of the Isles,
Whose face was pervaded with smiles;
He sung high dum ******
And played on the fiddle,
That amiable Man of the Isles.
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Silently still was the dawdling in dawn,
it dallied slowly as the tremulous air was stunned,
but that air still pervaded with an influence of an expressive moan
in quality and tone;
rare, soft, delicate, and of a certain air all her own.
Her hand, the wind in a mermaid's golden hair,
the subtle sunrays began to glisten with an olden care:
and all assurance is on that the dayshore's thus begun,
unfolding like a whisper in the va~por~ous sun.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC