"pioneered" poems
Perhaps it's the way his colostomy bag hangs
off his waist like John Wayne's pistol in Rio Bravo,
or the trail of **** left when it ripped last Monday
from his chair to the refrigerator.
He must have noticed,
he turned right and filled the sink with feces
and called over the nurse.
She pioneered along the trail,
and fit him with a new bag.
More **** oozed
through the tube
filling a fresh bag.
I sat there and licked
my nasal drip into my lips,
hoping the sparkle of my snotty glossy shine
would catch your eye,
like your favorite **** rag
in a line up of church bulletins.
The putrid lavender like scent
swimming through the air like flying fish,
allows me to dream
quicker than any drug.
I dream of the day where we both lay naked
with our old wrinkled skin connected like praying hands
where your feces and ***** flow freely to fill in epidermic gaps.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:16 PM UTC
we were left here
empty and ready
to fall into decay
used to be so much life
and in the dark,
there were bright lights
the home we built
caught on fire and
burned to the ground
there's just a skeleton
a naked foundation that
used to hold our dreams
we were torn down
condemned to demolition
we tied the knot to
the chain on the wrecking ball
we crumbled
under...
the roads we pioneered
are long overgrown
but we still know
the way by heart
a rhythmic pounding
from my very bones
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 8:30 PM UTC
it's been something I've believed since the day I saw the light
the light that shines on every one's face
that shines through the acne or scars
the birth marks or bars
that everyone is beautiful
regardless of what titles theyve been given
I know you've all heard it before
or maybe you haven't
either way you need to know
that you are not what you're told
whether that be garbage, or gold
you need only one title to call yourself
that's human
that's living
breathing
and with a heart aimed somewhere past your past
you have the potential to be great
but only when you realize that you're strongest in your weakness
when you see that the road less travelled
is less trampled
beaten
because people weren't stepped on
walked all over
they carried each other
held each other up
the road less traveled isn't easier
in fact, it's rockier
sharper
steeper
and you're most likely going to get hurt
you're going to gain some scars
because the road less traveled was pioneered by forgiveness
and i don't want you to think that it's easy
because it's not
i don't want you to think it's simple
because it's not
i want you to know it's right
so do the hardest thing tonight
and forgive yourself
so that you can start down the road less traveled
called beauty
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 5:43 PM UTC
I'm sorry this ever happened to you.
I'm sorry you were just an 8 year old, so full of life and you didn't deserve this pain.
I'm sorry those pedophilic pigs preyed on your innocence.
I'm sorry you were born in India- a country powered by people, pioneered by strong men of principles but still feel powerless to protect its own people.
I'm sorry our laws are enforced to protect the lawless.
I'm sorry there is a ***** so possessed by religion out there who passed a mean comment on you.
I'm sorry there are countless many who favors his opinion strongly.
I'm sorry none of us could protect you or bring you back to life.
I'm sorry that I can only hope hell does exist and those men do rot in its deepest pits.
I'm sorry all of us can only sympathize and none of us can empathize.
I'm sorry I have no voice of my own.
I'm sorry my child, I truly am because you were born a girl.
I'm sorry to say how lucky I feel to be alive, that my sister or mother or friends are unpolluted and still breathing just fine.
I'm sorry this poem is pointless as the many hashtags that come and go after each **** but I had to write this for my own peace of mind.
I'm sorry as I can only sit back and pray there won't be anymore Asifas.
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 3:07 AM UTC
(born Stanley Martin Lieber /ˈliːbər/, December 28, 1922 – November 12, 2018) American comic-book writer, editor, and publisher. He was editor-in-chief of Marvel Comics, later its publisher and chairman, leading its expansion from a small division of a publishing house to a large multimedia corporation.
In collaboration with several artists –
particularly Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko –
he co-created fictional characters including
Spider-Man, the Hulk, Doctor Strange,
the Fantastic Four, Daredevil, Black Panther,
the X-Men, and – with his brother and
co-writer Larry Lieber – the characters of
Ant-Man, Iron Man, and Thor. In doing so,
he pioneered a more complex approach to
writing superheroes in the 1960s, and in the 1970s
challenged the standards of the Comics Code
Authority leading to it updating its policies.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 3:40 PM UTC
I don't remember when we stopped
Going to the grocery shop together
When the silence grew too loud to talk over
When I'd stopped trailing after you with the rattling bones of canned soup, clutching the well rusted handles of the shopping cart asyou pioneered your way
Down the discount aisles proud and dusty
Stopping to pick up another sugar laden piece of the American Dream
I do remember my first day grocery shopping alone, squeaking with my empty cart hesitantly down the aisle waiting for you to come and tell me to put back the extra box of chewy chocolate chip cookies
The scuffed tiled floors shone, the fluorescent lighting cast a dull glow and I swear I heard soft angels humming over the white noise from the refrigerators
As I headed home to our white picket nightmare, the blue bags in the backseat shone like medals, subtle victories.
Jul 21, 2017
Jul 21, 2017 at 12:12 AM UTC
Time and necessity
puppeteered its temperature to better suit
our appetite,
left it to linger in our peripheral vision
as if it was no longer a true masterpiece of
the wild.
It blazed through forests,
pioneered and conquered,
destroyed.
Then, no longer mighty
and no longer feared,
was put into a box
to be mastered by a mother
lighting the neon colored wax candles
on a child’s blue birthday cake
or a woman
adorned with stockings slightly torn
and makeup slightly smudged
lighting a cigarette on a street corner
while waiting for the 8 o’clock bus.
Instead of burning,
it melted.
Instead of demolishing,
it decorated.
Instead of blazing,
it burnt out.
October 10, 2013
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 1:53 AM UTC
In musical notes composing
Ethiopia's giant
Saint Yared , irate, once
Opted to run away
From an ecclesiastical school
Dubbed by his priest teacher
An idiot and a fool
Worse still
Looked down and ridiculed
By class mates, not cool.
Desirous to burn his boat
He Trekked past a forest
And a pool
Determined never
To see those
Who cherish to pull
Over his eyes the wool.
Tired,he took a rest
By a tree shade
"I am good for nothing!"
Resonating in his head.
He continued
To lament his fate
Unaware God
Has a plan
To make him great.
While battling
To forget his pain
He saw a God-sent worm
Trying to climb a tree
Again,again,again,again
Again and again in vain!
To his surprise
The undaunted worm
Didn't fight shy
In its seventh trial it
Managed to climb
The tree high
To enjoy the fruits laden
On the boughs
Outstretched to the sky!
Drawing a lesson
Saint Yared
Returned back to school
To out smart all
Who took him for
An dummy and a fool!
At long last he
Pioneered in composing
Ten path breaking
Musical notes that
Have no match
By any of, to date,
Succeeded batch!
Strange as it may appear,
Oblivious to
The unintentional
Piercing of his foot
By a king's spear,
Fine-tuning
His ear
To angels' orchestra to God
Engrossed, he was seen
With a similar passion
Praising the Lord!
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 2:03 AM UTC
Where hippy's go,
prosperity follows.
And indeed, this has
been the case worldwide.
They were first into West
Cork, Otago in New Zealand.
Anywhere that was barren,
became nice, sought after.
It was the same with bread,
they pioneered the old recipes.
Today, we have latter day hippies
educating us about Organic Flour.
The cult of bread is not new, just
forgotten. A buttered cult please!
Aug 10, 2019
Aug 10, 2019 at 12:07 PM UTC
A young and beautiful, but wretched soul,
Dreamt in an enchanted world of her own,
With enraptured stallions and unicorns,
Far away from the brutal world so widely known,
But little did she know, the doom of her fantasy land is close.
Long was the string of her heartfelt desires,
She wanted to gaze at the infinite stars,
And eagerly waited to whoosh to Mars,
Away from negativities and deep scars,
But little did she know, she'd always be on the radar.
Incessant lookouts for an escape,
Made her wearied, sick and frail,
It was then that the realisation kicked her brain,
For what is she suffering so much pain?
For a world that is best at growing only wolf's bane?
After a month of Sundays, time finally chipped in,
When she could take the world out for a spin,
To vanquish the conventionality like a fiery levin,
Now was the time to declare that she won't take it on the chin,
And little did the world know of its approaching ruin.
Prepared to confront the imposed tyranny one-on-one,
She took it by surprise like a curve ball,
Then the insurgence began bold and tall,
"Why are women objectified as puppet dolls?
Why do taboos exist only for womenfolk?"
Appalled by her fearless defiance,
The world warned her against such resistance,
And swore to banish her existence,
The girl merely snorted and said "to hell with your dominance",
And little did the world know, it'd be soon thrown into a vortex.
Shining from within like a blaze of sunlight,
Powered up by vexation from her plight,
She broke the ancient shields of the dark skies,
And swallowed the ossified world with plumes of her divine light,
Yet little did she know, she has pioneered a new set of star lights.
©Sri.Mun
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 4:05 AM UTC
I forgot your reminiscences that were keeping me awake at nights,
I shut out the thoughts that reminded me of you,
I put away all your souvenirs and pioneered on a journey without you,
I shrugged off at every mention of your name,
But
Everything hit a reset switch- the moment I ran in to you today !!
Now I have to push myself out of this graveyard again, mend my broken heart again,
Erase your memories again, write off your name again.
Looks like I will have to be born again..
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 6:00 PM UTC
it's December i say,
and i was excited to see my school ended next week,
this story isn't just about ghosts,
but a living memory that lives with me forever,
one day my teacher ms Margarete asked me to carry boxes,
"oh ron would you be a dear to carry this heavy things for me " she said,
far across the left wing of the school,
its most darkest part of the school where lights often flickering,
and you almost hear footsteps coming but no one was there to be seen,
this school was known across the continent of Borneo,
are the oldest school that pioneered the start of WW2 in Asian front,
the original residence of the school was for British soldiers,
back when the British still colonized south east Asia,
then i heard stories about people see reflection of souls of the fallen,
what sad about this story not only these spirits felt oblivious,
knowing its 2009 and not 1945 they still relived their duty,
to protect this school from invading Japanese elites,
i took small steps having my guard up for surprises,
a corner that adjacent to the storage room,
**** i say out loud to myself.
i have this strange phobias when it come to corners,
and got scared easily,
i have no friends to accompany me that time,
because everyone is busy preparing last term of the day,
its time to face my fears so i forced my self
to complete that task i was given,
then something weird happened,
i hear what sounded like people talking
but i cant make the sound,
" What the hell was that" i whispered to my self,
i ignored it the more and more ignored that voice,
creeping through my ear drum.
as if you were in their presence when they still alive,
i left the box behind the storage door and i heard this
" Oy! don't litter ****** things everywhere child!"
i ran as fast as i can and that distinct British accent,
just scared the living crap out of me,
there were no English teachers even active at the time
only local teachers that are in that building working,
still through this day hearing that class a voice manifesting
led me thinking why the hell i didn't bring my recorder.
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 5:49 AM UTC
I'm not the man I was;
I'm not the man I am;
I'm not the man I'm going to be
I am the man who's been set free
Free from the life of slavery
I pioneered the mystery
The secrets there for all to see
Come share this life of bliss with me.
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 5:48 AM UTC
I'm a Believer.
A by-faith walker.
One foot placed
in front of the other.
A member of the worldwide
inter-generational ancestral
family of Believers.
Proudly considered
to be God-botherers
on account of us being
persistent in prayer
on all ocassions.
I'm a Believer.
I'm a disciple-maker.
I'm a get-fully-wet baptiser.
I'm a church planter.
I'm an "in spirit and in truth"
God-of-Jacob worshiper.
A not bow to caesar.
A faith keeper.
A some-might-call-me dreamer.
A vision se-er.
A full-armour take-a-stand-er.
A full alert perseverer.
A last to leave-er
when things get tougher.
An endure-er of oppressors.
A refuser to fear.
A hunger-er and thirster.
A kingdom builder.
I'm a Believer.
A seeker of truth.
A keeper of peace.
I'm with my brothers and sisters,
followers of Jesus,
who for the joy set before him
pioneered blood, sweat and tears
with a faithful to the very end
belief in the Father,
raised full of life, and ascended,
to be our heavenly interceder.
I'm a blessed Believer
in Jesus, our Messiah.,
He is my Lord and Saviour.
Amen.
Nov 6, 2024
Nov 6, 2024 at 4:50 PM UTC