"pleadings" poems
It was just a Kiss
It was a fellas hangout
Why I refused? Still don't know
We were all there, ballers and players
Ian was always there, behind
Never fails to appear a Lover
Tonight she is a drunkard
No hold backs; No barrier
"How long Adelaide, how long?"
You can't kiss me in public
I am not your side-chick
No more , No more, NO!
I've done it all, everything
Come dear can we go home
We can talk about this at ....
**** you Adelaide! Sit down
These are your friends, aren't they?
Tell them who i am to you NOW!
She's now the Boss, I get Bossed
For your information, giggles!
I'm pregnant and I'm not terminating
Oh! Baby... Don't baby me...
Gabby should have kept quiet
'Hm-mm Sorry can i excused?"
Shut the **** up Gabriel!
Are you saying you aint in this?
Giggles! NG Gabby has a child ...
"What! SLAP! Jeez! ***
Its enough Ian! SLAP! Silence
Long silence.....
Tears, agony, wailing, pleadings
Guess its more than just a kiss
It always is Stupid...
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 7:50 AM UTC
The bellowing clouds of smoke
The paralyzing threats of death
To the residents down below
Holding on to dear breath
Choking throats stinging eyes
By the languid sulphur laden air
White powdered ashes everywhere
There's nothing that they could do
Because nobody can say no
To a volcano
It can erupt at anytime if it wants to
They're uncertain what to do, follow
Their hearts to stay where they are
Or follow the orders to evacuate
The folks can see fire and smoke from afar
They've to move from there before it's too late
Because the volcano could boil over
It's brewing up in the creater
They've to leave their belongings
Behind them and say farewell
To the chicken the ducks and geese
The cows the dogs and the cats as well
Or take some of them if they please
Take along the important documents
And regrettably flee for fear from their homes
Before the fiery lava will leave
Their huts to remnants
They can't say no because
The Bali King the 'spokesperson'
For the Gods won't listen to their pleadings
And why it's throwing up it's tantrum
Because the Gods have spoken
The Gods are angry at them
And they've to sacrifice all
Their belongings to appease the Gods
Because they know the volcano
Knows they can't say no
To the volcano
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 12:19 PM UTC
She never minded the scars I carved.
She'd beg me for more, and as her wrists were tied in knots.
I'd make sure another night was never forgot.
Sure, she'd struggle, much as any of us must.
But she was lurching toward me wild and bewildered such.
She would calm as I tended wound and her panting
below became a parting of bloom. Springtime crept
in like a slow, low light on a horizon only meant
to be seen by us two.
Her struggle turned to sound and her mouth stuffed still.
Her lids heavy hiding stained glass eye windowed sill.
Her knees buckled with belt tied firm to keep her tight.
Her smile crept wide as tongue wetted what kept words inside.
Her drool ran and stained our sheets,
her eyes filled with tears which ran down cheeks.
Pleasing pleadings strung out by Morse code taps of her feet.
She was more than a canvas,
she became my tapestry.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 3:23 AM UTC
One, two, three
Silver coins
Silver scales
Four, five, six
They go down
One by one
Seven, eight, nine
In a bucket
Plucking them out
Ten, eleven, twelve
Blood and pleadings, cries
Squeezing wounds and lies
Mar 15, 2021
Mar 15, 2021 at 2:07 AM UTC
Feelings are full of meanings.
Abandonment and pleadings.
Heart beatings.
Feelings are just sweepings
swept up off the floor from
pain frozen beings.
Feelings release the pain.
Which overreaches and falls.
Pain palls.
A dark cloud of dust
emerges to cloak
the feelings to black.
Feelings like seedlings
grow in the sun. Eclipsed,
the sun and feelings turn dark.
Bright, feelings ultimately
turn to gloom
Happiness vs sadness
Who wins?
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC
after Alexandra Leaving, a song by Leonard Cohen
<>
to go where?
to a city self-consuming in madness,
giving every excuse to stay, and yet,
it came to me just now when the poet
must be leaving his redoubt, with doubt,
and return to the concrete and anomie
of a different kind of splendid isolation
when the last leaf meanders slow down
to the battlefield, and the falling terminado,
and the tree branches are stick figures, each
finger pointing skyward in an j’accusing manner,
accussing & conceding defeat, begging for mercy,
their pleadings too much for me to bare and bury
when green has been wiped clean, and deleted
from the dictionary of colors, my moth eaten soul,
can no longer be granted a stay of execution by
merely looking at the landscape and seascape
to admire their friendly contrasting schemes,
their installation in me of the awe of a visual
quietude, that was an astonishing injection
not truly appreciated till now, too late and
still early, the awe colorations of nature’s vibrancy
The gods have come, my soul hoisted upon their
broad shoulders, the dead-appearing tree branches
can no longer keep their poet safe, hold him back from
meeting his fate; now, he too is a leaving but
floating upward, unlike like the fallen crowds that have
come to rest upon the soil that born them, now to be buried,
all saying: Goodbye Island Poet leaving,
Island Poet
has no poem, no good understanding, no vision,
had no plan, no foresight, only a hope against hope,
that safety was/is not seasonal, Van Morrison reminds,
“These are the days of endless summer,”are memories,
to be held onto tightly, until when if I pass muster, angels
will return to my island abode, where my natural friends
will greet me again, with a flowering and new births,
and The Island Poet can once again revel in ideas in words like
future, sanity, when boarding the ferry with a one way ticket smile.
Sep 2, 2024
Sep 2, 2024 at 2:23 AM UTC
The tourists all jostle for a look at the falls
At the point where the water just drops
It goes over the edge, crashing down far below
And then it's all over, it just stops
But, further up river before the falls are in sight
Where the river's hypnotic, dull and oh, so boring
The dark voices are waiting, hiding and calling
This is the place that the powers are storing
Beware the dark voices
They come and they go
They infect your mind
You've heard them, you know
The dark voices are different
But, they always are there
Turn away from their callings
And as always....beware
A dark, gloomy bar on the wrong side of town
Where the waitresses all dance for their tips
A strip joint so defined, but really not so
This is where one's morality slips
A sniff of a perfume, so fragrant yet cheap
Blurs your connection to the ring on your hand
The dark voices are calling, telling you things
Get the waitress and prove you're a man
Beware the dark voices
They come and they go
They infect your mind
You've heard them, you know
The dark voices are different
But, they always are there
Turn away from their callings
And as always....beware
You've returned from a movie, back to your home
You must now take the babysitter back
Your wife stays home waiting for your return
But, with the babysitter you kind of lose track
You see a young body, and a glimpse of her breast
She crosses her legs, but you don't look that far
You share idle chatter, as you flirt like a kid
And you take the girl to the back seat of the car
Beware the dark voices
They come and they go
They infect your mind
You've heard them, you know
The dark voices are different
But, they always are there
Turn away from their callings
And as always....beware
The voices keep coming, just block them out
They feed on your weakness and pain
You have to ignore their pleadings to break down
For nothing good comes of them, there's nothing to gain
Jump in the water, go over the falls
Go with the dancer, surrender your life
Lay down with the baby sitter
Feel the voices twist the knife
Beware the dark voices
They come and they go
They infect your mind
You've heard them, you know
The dark voices are different
But, they always are there
Turn away from their callings
And as always....beware
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 8:55 AM UTC
i wandered for a long time
among thorns, disease and death
no glimmer to see
feel the walls, feel the cave,it leads you out
i found many Christian doors
locked with big heavy chains
you preach "come Ye weary"
to locked door?!
Christian followers preach beautiful
words divinely chosen for impact
no temperature ever checked
walk among bibles, oil and cloths
dance in praise
blow the battle horn
But But But
who sees those wandering in the dark standing before closed doors for help
closed doors mean" banishment to the Barron out field
red sin covered land
mercy irrelevant
demanding cruel deity
pleased with nothing
pushes self destruction
cries are stamp on
more pain more glory
damage soul the goal
your pleadings are laughed and spit upon
the glorious hellish Barron outfield
do you allow this dear reader?
do you have closed doors?
i lived in the outfields now i'm home thank God
my Guardian through prayer opened a door for me
now i know, now i know
follow the true Christ
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 3:50 AM UTC
We fell, for what was thought to be Love.
We held, on to what was thought to be Hope.
The Days went into Months and the Months went into Years.
We even lost count of those pages in the book of Promises we dogeared.
Those summerdays we spent traipsing in the sun
and the starless nights spent watching life slowing down in motion.
All these time we shared and get involved in each other's emotions,
The Youth we spent consumed wondering about our actions and reactions.
The carefree times lovers should have were filled with paranoia,
Even Freedom was robbed by another person's act of denial!
Disappointment and Hurt, tears and Sadness;
the desperate pleadings of the Heart were taken and thrown into the wilderness.
The bank of tears has dried up, the Heart has gone weak.
The Mind stopped working and the Body has lost its Spirit.
Finally, it is time to say goodbye.
So goodbye, goodbye. I end this with a sigh
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 3:07 AM UTC
Lacking self-respect, I again seek her out,
my wounded heart oozing intimate poetry,
sonnets and pleadings of love in my
addiction to her lustful wine red lips,
mesmerizing pale thighs and *******
She smiles perfect teeth, indifferently
sipping on one of my love poems but then
spews minute flecks, revealing nothing,
perhaps feeling nothing; I'm certain her heart
remains either dormant or nonexistent.
I know her ****** routine so well as she
becomes that familiar raptor, and I allow
her to sink razor talons deeply in my nape.
Night animals stir with fear as she carries
me off toward the blistered moon, trailing
precious bits of my love, her sensuous
midnight blue silhouette seared into
this dulled brain as my dreams of reciprocal
love are left smoldering on the foul ground,
all for another night of disdainful love.
---
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 4:30 PM UTC
*
Melodious tides serenade along a foam dipped coast line,
we drift as a single composed symphony,
seduced by a pounding surf, its sensuous rhythm pulsates
flooding our hearts, aching to collide
in the tempo of a lone torrent’s embrace
Scorching August passions seize the moonlit sand,
palm tree shadows dance atop sultry weathered dunes
of lemongrass and saw palmetto,
on saltwater breezes moaning our names, mellifluously
from a distant cantata's horizon
Warm dark *** skin intoxicates, I stagger,
lost in hypnotic topaz eyes, reflective pleadings
of deeper desires sought, fingertips probe sun softened locks,
nightshade tresses, mingling with a rippled surf
as stardust illumines moist swollen lips, parted
Harmonic waves wash atop entwined silhouettes
nearing a crescendo, a pinnacle of pleasure,
where secrets are revealed in half swallowed sighs
on this coastal haven when voices sing in
throaty whispers of impassioned ecstasy
Now as heated breaths hover beneath the moon’s glowing stare
we too build and recede, feeding our amorous desires
as the fading night relinquishes its hold and dawn cracks the sky
Our tide becomes one, our union remains unbroken,
our love, eternally bound by the melody of the sea*
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 7:03 PM UTC
Aching hearts or burning bridges?
My mind races as quickly as your footsteps run amok in my sanctuary.
No peace of mind resides, so peace, I have to leave you behind. Love is all you need, what a fallacy. Trust builds real love. If it flees then love is but a drug, numbing senses, dulling intuitions, instincts,
If it smells like rotten eggs, it stinks
Pleadings and pleasings,
Return to sender please.
Wrong address because you’re not ready to please my mind, ease my mind. Don’t want to me to see the last seen.
Foibles, fumbles, stumbles,
Reminiscent mistakes are daggers to my heart.
Yet, out of the bloodbath comes no effort made to ease the ache of a heartbreak, only sorrow and pain left in its wake.
The struggle continues, solitary soldiering, destined for a peace longed for to ease a troubled mind.
I find it you know, that peace I was looking for.
But nothing is free, oh no Siree,
Especially, not peace.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 1:18 PM UTC
Lady, if you'd slumber sound,
Keep your eyes upon the ground.
If you'd toss and turn at night,
Slip your glances left and right.
Would the mornings find you gay,
Never give your heart away.
Would they find you pale and sad,
Fling it to a whistling lad.
Ah, but when his pleadings burn,
Will you let my words return?
Will you lock your pretty lips,
And deny your finger-tips,
Veil away your tender eyes,
Just because some words were wise?
If he whistles low and clear
When the insistent moon is near
And the secret stars are known--
Will your heart be still your own
Just because some words were true? ...
Lady, I was told them, too!
1.2k
Listen to the bell's toll
It brings solace to the soul
The imps of my fitful slumber
Hope to drag me in the deep of sleep
Awakening to the noon of day
I leave my house with no delay
Hoping to find the one I love, dream of
Upon the stone from where she lays
As I rush into the sea of granite
The tombstones' voices drown my thoughts
A hundred murders, a thousand deaths
Accusations, reveries, pleadings
They cloud my mind
And I embrace darkness.
I feel the chilling touch of winter's baby soft breath
As I rise to my feet
To find myself in front
Of my long lost lover's
Final retreat
A heathen's breath descends upon
My heaving breast
As I claw the cursed ground, oh, the cursed ground,
Away from this place of solemnity
‑
As the final clod of dirt is removed, in an air of infallibility
I hope to obtain a glimpse of my dearest
Only to find those accursed pits of black like a pool of tainted water
With hair like limpid worms in the night
And that ghastly nightmare grin,
Mocking my very existence to see whom I seek
In a terrible rage, I shred, I tear, I smash, and render the Beast
Indistinguishable in any form
I fling myself into the streets
Tearing thru the crowds
Vaulting over and thru the market stalls
To find my wild flight halted by a pair of
Panicked citizens hoping to alleviate my obvious distress
Only now in a flash of mental shock
That throws me close to an unconscious state
Does the realization of my actions ascend to my heavens
And as the citizens holding me let go
I myself let go
Of everything and everyone that matters
Or should matter to me
Stumbling, hoping to hold my balance along the precipice
From which my mind has already cast itself
‑
I once again see a dripping, searing red rage cloud my vision as the madness
That had taken me among the tombstones returns
Swatting aside those near me
I approach the river that runs thru the city
And staring into the depths
I see the creature that I had become
A haggard defeated man that had succumbed to the
Eternal darkness that engulfs everyone in time
And I see my love, the one who I had sought for so long
Alongside this poor creature that is within me
Her presence is all that I can now perceive
And I let my grasp on this world
Decay, and as I sink into the depths
My love approaches and embraces me
In the final act of Love
In the final act of Life
In the only act of Death.
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 4:38 PM UTC
Death stole a soul from its earthly place no other can fill the empty place for thirty years each one gave
A little and then a little more in time mathematics over ruled and was disallowed two became one. The heart
Of love ever watchful try as you may the bond unseen unshakeable unbreakable this spouse this was the
Only house my soul has found unending rest within these walls our ease measureless as infinity. We can
Search earth and universe but not one glimpse, it was one of a kind just one face.
Commitments watchful eye never allowed disorder steal away even while surrounded by friends these
Eyes fixed to yours through them pour each moment love’s torrent we go to distant habitations passing
On always to carefree laughter oh this stronghold our union has made only lions know these privileged
Paths we walk together hand in hand a man and a woman who tasted fruit as it had to be back in Eden
Purest delight no dark turning only the light drenching quenching every longing.
Time was the banner unfurled our covering protecting shield over head rain and sun deflected as we
Strolled past ruins of former days then it spoke softly of permanent connections that always flowed into
Promise filled tomorrows to soon it would speak of unbearable sorrow. The one would be left only as a
Half plunged from brightest light into darkest gloom, people still stir and go about their business I walk
By them they are whole while I walk in half light and I am blinded and confused once everything made
Sense. Now only senseless starved for a single meaning anything to stop the pain.
Moving forward is the only constant it leads to only more desperate pleadings that go unheard through
Black and twisted dead wasteland I feebly stumble I see you momentarily only to have you vanish if only
I could pass into the forgotten world where memories were unlawful and strictly enforced but then I
would lose you again no soul could survive that torment. Though tears flow unbidden in them you are
Alive they hold within their fiery drops the unquestionable hope of that eternal tomorrow.
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 10:55 AM UTC
In the middle of winter, my heart is the one filled with cold winds
If I look towards the skies, the white clouds passing on as to say goodbye.
Voices of deep pain, try to convince my ways of thought,
As cries of old pleadings, want to stop this anguish of lust.
.. ..
You were like the last desert rose, my only essence in life.
As I search for summer, to calm my internal blizzard.
A cold darkness is what is holding you away from me, my love.
But I am the only one to blame, It was me who was afraid and ran away.
.. ..
I couldn’t imagine my life with you…your a gentle soul , a warm breeze,
And my heart as cold as the night, afraid to let in the summer winds.
.. ..
But its now in your absence, that I have come to love the seasons.
I extend my hand to the darkness awaiting, the return of my desert rose.
Soon spring is upon us, and the cold winds will begin to fade away,
And the cries of old pleadings now want to regain the passion, once again.
.. ..
The white clouds will bring back to me, my essence of life…
Now I can't imagine my life without you, you’re my gentle soul, my warm breeze.
The warmth of the seasons will calm my heart and my desert rose will set me free.
Gentle Soul...
O'how I love thee...
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 1:04 PM UTC
Picture me suckling on her elbows, lips enveloping that round lump, teeth scraping up past the skins’ v-fold, you might even want to dress that elbow in dotted pale cerise cotton ******* picture me lapping at her neck, tongue thwapping, spit running down to the corners of the mouth, bright nose pressed firm into the temple, my salacious grin in the wee pit of her eyes,
Yes I am there.
Picture me pawing, growling, climbing up her thin skinny young legs, my junk clambering its way into her grove garden cemetery of Hearse boxes and heart suitcases, where by death nothing grows anymore. Picture heavy, weighty, fleshy flesh tearing to shreds those photos you’ve been keeping of changing diapers in the back of your mind, those pictures on the top of your Steinway, picture me in your picture frames. Picture me I am the perfect imbecilic interstices to incise your pristine sweethearts’ heart, picture me, for I am the beast trammeling your restful sleep. Picture me while I take what I please, picture me as I take and I cleave, fueled by rancor and grief, I am your concerted antithesis of pleas and no’s and pleadings. I am but her best friend till the end. Picture me, woof woof. Picture me.
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 3:27 AM UTC
Try men's souls. Provocative mind-whip how you soothe me. I scorn modern poetry...not because it is truly bad or truly good. It just makes me feel as if my pores are ever-expanding with clicking, skittering, masses of insects.
Black shiny minuscule monstrosity.
Beautiful in gritty grotesque.
A lamb lights upon the searing dark-light torch...kill them all with glee
No pity or remorse towards humans humanity human nature,
we are disgusting creatures until I cease thinking about us.
Then we are interesting and subject to more discovering and journeying.
Take the child and expose it to everything at once; it shrivels and mumbles distant screams of flaming cliches combined with a burning shot of plasmatic soul searching. How would we approve of such?
Inside the black brown shriveled parchment child-casing: The other children are ignorant. My crooked cracked being shivers disgustingly. I hate them instantly. Not hate. A rigid viscous feeling. Rip apart the sublime ape. She-he in all splendid obsession. Strive, then, no more to ape the emblems of the spirit that was, but evoke anew that spirit in modern life.
I, we trust none. Drama drama dramatic dramatically dramatical in all appearances, but truly flat-line non expressionist.
I love only once.
Burn them and their wicked kindness.
I will soothe my satisfactions and live love only once.
My Muse is the riptide chainsaw hackslash terror of our generation. Reveling in the natural ones. The rocks scrape phrases up of graves and trees wickle waveringly with pleadings of insane sleeps.
How beautiful is nature. That it can reduce us to nothing at all and raise us upon our grandest delusions.
I love to despise of women's voices. Androgyny is revelation worthy. Epiphany causing in romanticism.
I love to desire my emotional and mental consumption.
she is grandeur made flesh
epiphany constituted within reach
glorious
******** you sweet, sweet ********
this soul will rest
not mine, not ours
it will take rest and tendril itself through all
love commissions such things
what ****** soul
She I Cannot Resist
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 4:24 PM UTC
In the song of the antelope,
the Prince heard his Queen
Now locked in a convent,
her beauty unseen
The tower still distant,
its ramparts on guard
Just one point of entry,
a hero’s reward
The mist in the valley,
her prison unseen
Through clouds in the distance,
her pleadings, her screams
The miles before him,
twin antlers ahead
His future unfolding
—his destiny wed
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 2:35 PM UTC
A Heartless act
#
I let you put your signature
in my throbbing heart,
how could you heartlessly erase it,
unheeding my pleadings and part?
#
Wistful thought about the one who left
#
Without a word, she left,
her soft whispers still reverberate,
would she remember our days together,
I realize, her silent presence was my succor.
#
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 2:47 PM UTC
For my original sin
I'm paying again
For a choice I made long ago
When I was young and did not know
I did not know, loving someone
Could keep you under that gun
Let me set the scene
Of how he was so mean
I endured all his beatings
The only sound, my pleadings
Years spent in his prison
Under constant supervision
Found the key
Set myself free
It was years and years ago
But he still finds where I go
Moved towns and home
Trying to end his syndrome
His mother manipulated my kids
Now he knows where I live
Doors and Windows bolted down
A waiting game till he comes to town
Last time it ended with me in the woods
***** and bruised, because he could
This time it will end in blood and gore
Only question is, which end of the knife I will explore
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 7:46 PM UTC
Rest in Country
We'd just lobbed into Vungers from the Dat on R & C,
Innocently strolling was **** Knight and me,
Across the Flags to the Some-Such Bar wherein the girls drank 'tea'.
And I can still see Max beside me striding to the Some-Such Bar,
With the baby-sans about him going just that bit too far,
With their practiced tugs and pleadings going just that bit too far.
And of course among the baby-sans the cowboys moved in too,
Which didn't worry me too much my cash was in my shoe,
But Max was Max and in those days, not like me and you.
‘Watch your wallet, mate,’ says I, ‘in case it comes to harm.’
‘No fear of that’ says mighty Max with patriotic charm,
Then he tucked a cowboy baby-san beneath one brawny arm.
Well! 'You silly ****** put him down’ but Max went like a rocket;
'I'm off to find the White Mice 'cos this bastard's picked me pocket.’
And I groaned aloud because I knew that me and him would cop it.
Sure enough, there gathered round an angry, shouting throng,
In Asia you don't maltreat kids, no matter right or wrong;
Believe you me our lives that day depended on that throng.
And I got hit with an iron bar (the hat protected my head),
Whilst Max had a pistol ****** into his belly and really should be dead,
And across the Flags M.P's I saw, turned white in craven dread.
Australians too, those coppers but no good to Max and me;
The gutless ******** turned about just so they might not see
The riot raging fiercely now about my mate and me.
I'd say forty upright citizens we met that Vung Tau day.
Policemen, soldiers, rascals, all with us two in affray;
Those Aussie ****** save our lives? They'd turned themselves away.
Thank Christ the mob stayed leaderless, our riot's end surprise;
And the cowardly action of those two? 'twas blessing in disguise,
For a Yankee Jeep barged through the mob and drawled 'in here, you guys'.
It barged back out then drove full speed to the end of R&C
Where the Major spoke severely to **** Knight and me.
While quietly back at the Some-Such Bar the girls sat drinking tea.
Saved
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 10:08 PM UTC
Separation
Death stole a soul from its earthly place no other can fill the empty place for thirty years each one gave
A little and then a little more in time mathematics over ruled and was disallowed two became one. The heart
Of love ever watchful try as you may the bond unseen unshakeable unbreakable this spouse this was the
Only house my soul has found unending rest within these walls our ease measureless as infinity. We can
Search earth and universe but not one glimpse, it was one of a kind just one face.
Commitments watchful eye never allowed disorder steal away even while surrounded by friends these
Eyes fixed to yours through them pour each moment love’s torrent we go to distant habitations passing
On always to carefree laughter oh this stronghold our union has made only lions know these privileged
Paths we walk together hand in hand a man and a woman who tasted fruit as it had to be back in Eden
Purest delight no dark turning only the light drenching quenching every longing.
Time was the banner unfurled our covering protecting shield over head rain and sun deflected as we
Strolled past ruins of former days then it spoke softly of permanent connections that always flowed into
Promise filled tomorrows to soon it would speak of unbearable sorrow. The one would be left only as a
Half plunged from brightest light into darkest gloom, people still stir and go about their business I walk
By them they are whole while I walk in half light and I am blinded and confused once everything made
Sense. Now only senseless starved for a single meaning anything to stop the pain.
Moving forward is the only constant it leads to only more desperate pleadings that go unheard through
Black and twisted dead wasteland I feebly stumble I see you momentarily only to have you vanish if only
I could pass into the forgotten world where memories were unlawful and strictly enforced but then I
would lose you again no soul could survive that torment. Though tears flow unbidden in them you are
Alive they hold within their fiery drops the unquestionable hope of that eternal tomorrow.
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 1:55 PM UTC
in this pestilence and heartache,
i doth lie here without remembering
an instance where i shall not stay
in this quietly bleeding prison
my hands have groped the air
for a phantom amongst the breeze
but there is no longer a soul to spare
when i am brought back to my knees.
i feel my prayers are but thrown
fruitless pleadings to the sky
my truths to bear, are mine alone
never will they be your plight
you hold your head to my chest
and we dream away the time
this prison feels like a prison less
when your heart is calling to mine
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 11:09 PM UTC
The story is in Grimm’s ancient tome
Of the girl who wove straw into gold
Bamboozling the evil, gnarled gnome
With subterfuge both cunning and bold.
*Sing songs of cold tea in Styrofoam
And rude brown bread, dry without butter;
She knows no carriage nor castle home
Awaits the princess in the gutter*.
The dwarf chose not to concede defeat,
Rightly convinced that a deal’s a deal;
Filings and pleadings finally complete,
The circuit court to hear the appeal.
*Sing songs of cold tea in Styrofoam
And rude brown bread, dry without butter;
She knows no carriage nor castle home
Awaits the princess in the gutter*.
The panel’s judgment swift and direct;
The lower court had most gravely erred.
*Petitioner may rightly expect
Payment plus damages*, they concurred.
*Sing songs of cold tea in Styrofoam
And rude brown bread, dry without butter;
She knows no carriage nor castle home
Awaits the princess in the gutter*.
Bailiff took heir and inheritance,
Leaving nil which could be sold or pawned,
The king’s glances gave full evidence
The scapegoat would be a clever blonde.
*Sing songs of cold tea in Styrofoam
And rude brown bread, dry without butter;
She knows no carriage nor castle home
Awaits the princess in the gutter*.
There was no chance she could be returned
To her former home life in the woods
The miller’s girl, derided and spurned:
She’s a beauty, yes, but damaged goods.
*Sing songs of cold tea in Styrofoam
And rude brown bread, dry without butter;
She knows no carriage nor castle home
Awaits the princess in the gutter*.
A room in Amsterdam’s red-light tract
The former princess is on the game.
Still works under an implied contract;
The terms, however, not quite the same.
*Sing songs of cold tea in Styrofoam
And rude brown bread, dry without butter;
She knows no carriage nor castle home
Awaits the princess in the gutter*.
Oct 30, 2020
Oct 30, 2020 at 10:53 AM UTC