"pian" poems
lost to my world of emotion loathed by confusion i can't define existance between the lines of coruption manipulated human justifyin death wit superior instructions weapon or not the choice was chosen by deception never recognisin your actions these are the troubles of afections when men are punished by unrealised intention i nw hand my attention my insides made to continuesly feel passion but lost lack the attitude to not loose the perception beauty in pian wat strange attraction
Nov 5, 2009
Nov 5, 2009 at 6:29 PM UTC
Good judgment comes from experience, experience from bad decisions
This whole ******* life is a contradiction
It's an oxymoron at every turn
Every decision only gets you burned
If in old age you manage to arrive
That's when life's lessons are realized
The young are bound in the futility of it all
Never seeing the cliff before they fall
Not wise enough to know
God clipped our wings before the throw
He turned everything upside down
When he placed us on this hellish ground
We all where marked
You can't see the light unless your in the dark
You don't appreciate the sun's rays
Till you've stood in the storm for days
Without pian you wouldn't relish the pleasure
Without work, there would be no leisure
What is good, if taken to much only leads to bad
Giving love away leaves you with more than you had
The act of forgiveness is not for the one that hurt you
But heals your soul before its through
So do the best you can in life
Even when it equals strife
For this world will keep you spinning
For the score card is plain, death is winning
But don't you worry, I'm sure that's an oxymoron too
When deaths door we pass through
Real living then will we ensue
In death there will be no rest
This life is but a test
For the oxymoron weaves it's way through it all
Even when death at your door calls
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 1:57 PM UTC
Good judgment comes from experience, experience from bad decisions
This whole ******* life is a contradiction
It's an oxymoron at every turn
Every decision only gets you burned
If in old age you manage to arrive
That's when life's lessons are realized
The young are bound in the futility of it all
Never seeing the cliff before they fall
Not wise enough to know
God clipped our wings before the throw
He turned everything upside down
When he placed us on this hellish ground
We all where marked
You can't see the light unless your in the dark
You don't appreciate the sun's rays
Till you've stood in the storm for days
Without pian you wouldn't relish the pleasure
Without work, there would be no leisure
What is good, if taken to much only leads to bad
Giving love away leaves you with more than you had
The act of forgiveness is not for the one that hurt you
But heals your soul before its through
So do the best you can in life
Even when it equals strife
For this world will keep you spinning
For the score card is plain, death is winning
But don't you worry, I'm sure that's an oxymoron too
When deaths door we pass through
Real living then will we ensue
In death there will be no rest
This life is but a test
For the oxymoron weaves it's way through it all
Even when death at your door calls
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 5:54 AM UTC
there is a seperation
a pain of seperation
such as a seperation
that only lovers specialise in
where the prevention of thought
is like a fortress overrun
where trampling terrains of concern
stampede upon the praire of the mind
transforming it into a soft savanna
of wating engagements
that murmer with comforing enchantments
lays upon such pain of seperation
as that of a perforated scar
seared across the heart
bringing tickles of soft warm tears
to the cheeks
the happist time becomes
a chasm only conquerd
by that gulping unification
of embrace
where soft burning lips
meet in that unknown
but express language
of clasped reunion
it is that pain, that awful pain
that only lovers know
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 6:25 AM UTC
Si muove il cielo, tacito e lontano:
la terra dorme, e non la vuol destare;
dormono l'acque, i monti, le brughiere.
Ma no, ché sente sospirare il mare,
gemere sente le capanne nere:
v'è dentro un ***** che non può dormire:
piange; e le stelle passano pian piano.
1k
Makaan selälläni, roikotan päätä reunan yli
Vaiti, liikkumatta, jottei hetki särkyisi
Veri kivistää päätä ja sormenpäistä katoaa tunto
Ilta heijastaa seinälle lainehtivia kuvioita
Pakko olla elossa
Pakko olla elossa vielä hetki
Sillä pian tulee öitä, jolloin pimeä ei ole läpitunkematonta
Jolloin metsänrajaan laskeutuu paksu kerros sumua,
katulamppujen valokiilat kuhisevat hyönteisiä
ja askeleet ovat äänettömiä kuivilla teillä
Sellaisena yönä kastaudun viileävetiseen satama-altaaseen
Uin vaivattomasti, kevein vedoin
Ihmeissäni siitä, että kaiken raivon
vatsakipujen
nielaistujen sanojen jälkeen
minuun ei jäänyt pyörremyrskyjä tai tyhjiä kohtia
Ei edes surumielisyyttä
Vaan aluillaan oleva tunne siitä,
että jotakin odottaa kulman takana
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 2:30 PM UTC
O dolce usignolo che ascolto
(non sai dove), in questa gran pace
cantare cantare tra il folto,
là, dei sanguini e delle acace;
t'ho presa - perdona, usignolo -
una dolce nota, sol una,
ch'io canto tra me, solo solo,
nella sera, al lume di luna.
E pare una tremula bolla
tra l'odore acuto del fieno,
un molle gorgoglio di polla,
un lontano fischio di treno...
Chi passa, al morire del giorno,
ch'ode un fischio lungo laggiù
riprende nel cuore il ritorno
verso quello che non è più.
Si trova al nativo villaggio,
vi ritrova quello che c'era:
l'odore di mesi-di-maggio
buon odor di rose e di cera.
Ne ronzano le litanie,
come l'api intorno una culla:
ci sono due voci sì pie!
Di sua madre e d'una fanciulla.
Poi fatto silenzio, pian piano,
nella nota mia, che t'ho presa,
risente squillare il lontano
campanello della sua chiesa.
Riprende l'antica preghiera,
ch'ora ora non ha perché;
si trova con quello che c'era,
ch'ora ora ora non c'è...
Chi sono? Non chiederlo. Io piango,
ma di notte, perch'ho vergogna.
O alato, io qui vivo nel fango.
Sono un gramo rospo che sogna.
752
Johdatat meitä läpi kapeiden portaikkojen, poikki kaltevien askelmien, jotka saattavat pettää niille astuessa
Puiden reunustamille kujille, joilla luonto tuntuu tukahtuvan omaan vihreyteensä ja kesäyön hämärään
Läpi ihmismassan, jolla on päällään kimaltavia mekkoja ja suussaan kieliä, joita en täysin ymmärrä
Paikkoihin maanpinnan alapuolelle, jotka ovat nekin laitojaan myöten täynnä
Vietämme niissä hetken kerrallaan, muiden ympäröimänä mutta silti kovin kahden
Halusit eksyä meihin ja siihen iltaan, enkä minäkään uskalla toivoa mitään muuta
Pian kätesi hivuttautuu omaani ja olemme taas ulkona
Pysähdymme katselemaan, kuinka horisontin takaa alkaa päivä nousta heti kahden jälkeen
Korkeiden rakennusten estäessä merituulen pääsyn keuhkoihin ja takin sisään
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 7:31 AM UTC
The wind carries my cries,
the rain pours down my tears,
but still you hear,
yet you dont seem to see.
All the hurt,
All the pain,
But I guess it was my fault,
for holding it in,
saying its fine,
then letting it out,
through my arms.
Watching it bleed.
Letting it flow.
but I wasn't crazy,
I just wanted you to see,
that there was hurt n' pian,
just too much for me.
Now you sing my lulaby,
as I sleep cold still,
and there will be no blood.
The wind will carry no cry.
The rain will pour down no tears,
cause you sang my lulaby,
that only the dead could hear.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 3:18 PM UTC
It's so much.
not to have you by my side.
not to be around you.
not to be with you.
YOU'RE THE PIAN THAT I WON'T GIVE UP.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC
everything that made me
is forgotten at some point of self progression
and yes, the meaning of true love changes within every lover you love
it seems like it gets truer everytime you fall again
but the things you do arent the purest
maybe one day i will center my interests and arrange them
but everything is scattered right now, and I dont know... I think it's beautiful
im obsessed with a lot of things
im obsessed with the grip of your hands around me when im kissing you
im obsessed with the cold weather and how it makes me feel like such a hopeless form of heat
creating myself has had it's obstables
and God has put some flat walls that are hard to climb
and my mother has made my ears hurt due to the screaming in my ear because of my behavior of doing the "right"
the world is patterned with joy and regret
at times I dont know where to go
and everyone else has chosen a path that may or may not workout
i have trouble doing so, i want you to hold my hand while I do so
because people can make sweet tea bitter and pian reflects glory
the tires on my bike are flat
and my destination is getting further
it seems like the longer I stay a still
the further and harder I have to fight
i thank obstacles for creating me this far enough to love the unloved
i think i finally see the upside, and stars arent so far
the sun isnt so suffocating the breeze i want to feel when im with you
catch me stealing stars like stealing smiles from the happy
maybe contradictions are taught in heaven
maybe truth is taught in hell
and maybe i just love you a little too much
maybe living is worth it now
i think it's now
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 5:24 PM UTC
Guardi la vostra casa sopra un rivo,
sopra le stipe, sopra le ginestre;
ed entri l'eco d'un gorgheggio estivo
dalle finestre.
Dolce dormire con nel sogno il canto
dell'usignuolo! E sian sotto la gronda
rondini nere. Dolce avere accanto
chi vi risponda,
sul far dell'alba, quando voi direte
pian piano: È vero che non s'è più soli?
Sì, sì, diranno, vero ver... Che liete
grida! Che voli!
Sul far dell'alba, quando tutto ancora
sembra dormir dietro le imposte unite!
Sembra, e non è. Voi sì, forse, in quell'ora,
madri, dormite.
Sognate biondo: nelle vostre *****
non un fil bianco: bianche, nel giardino,
sono, sì, quelle ch'ora vi tendeste,
fascie di lino.
431
Fight not the pain,
Fight not the sorrow,
Submit to the forces tearing at your chest
Feel the cold hands wrap around your heart and rip it from your steaming corps
Feel your body drop to earth
An empty vessel once so full.
Die not this fateful day
However,
As heartless on the ground you lie,
Embrace the raging flames of fortitude and vigor you know not yet
Let your barren chest be filled with the fire of a thousand torches
That burn brighter than the day.
Rise from the stale blood of days that pass so quick
And stand larger than before,
Reborn from pain
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 11:21 PM UTC
pian rains out of my pores
as i bleed the death of an elephant.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 3:39 AM UTC
All you have is your fire
so baby light it up
set fire to the world
shine brighter than the sun
we only have few choice
happiness is not one
so live through your fire
pretend you are one
All you have is your fire
the rest of the world is ash
your fire burned all of your friends
burned all you ever had
all it wont burn
is the pian of your past
so baby light your fire
make it last
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
Pian
Pian
The scars on my wrists are reminders.
The fresh cuts sting and burn, The red of my blood brings me release of pain that I feel inside. The pain of the sharp and the sight of the blood, it reminds me that I’m alive. But now it just there, there is no pain just numb.
Pain
I’m not scared of death.
No on the contrary I invite it with open arms.
No I’m scared of living. The thought of life is what chills me to the bone. That feeling that I don’t live up to society's standards. That I’ll be treated diffrently if I don’t fit the description of a cis girl.
Pain
It comes in the form of a dress, of long hair, of makeup, of *******
It does not come in the form of a broken limb or a gun wound.
It is not a physical pain. Though it can be more inhabilitating than a broken leg. You no longer have the strength or will to get out of bed. Or even live anymore.
Pain
It comes from those who do not understand
It comes from words spoken about you but not to you. It comes from betrail of the highest form. That of a friend, of a lover, of family. They talk. Thats what gives you the power to take those pills. To bury the knife so deep in your wrist they can’t take it out. To put that rope necklace on and push away the only thing holding you up.
Pain
It is the friends you push away that can’t help you
It’s the feeling of pure depression. It’s not a sickness that you can see. You don’t cough, you don’t have a sniffly nose, you aren’t pale, you don’t have a fever of 127. You are so tierd becuause if you sleep you dream but can’t call it dreaming. It’s only nighmares.
Pain
It’s not what you think it is.
It’s like a friend who never leaves. Deppression lives with you and you can’t escape it. It slowly invades your sleep and every waking second.
Pain
For me my deppression is my body
My skinny waist, big hips, and big ******* From my round face to my girly voice. My shortness and my slender hands and tiny feet. My deppression is my Dysphoria. She huants me when I look in the mirror. I see it in the faces of my friends. So I push them away.
Pain
It’s feeling so loney that it feels as tough you can’t go on any more
It’s pushing away your friends when you need them the most becuse you don’t wan to hurt them if you do leave. And you consider making life better for everyone including yourself by ending it all. Those pills, that blade, the knife, or the necklace of rope makes you feel free.
Pain
No more PAIN
No more PAIN
NO MORE PAIN
PAIN
Jan 18, 2021
Jan 18, 2021 at 11:07 PM UTC