"plights" poems
My transcendent transition
Brought by my ****** ambition
Became my personal religion
When I gained a monk's chastity
All my pleas just came back to me
My prayers remain unanswered
Like someone dying of cancer
An inept bow-legged dancer
My skills are useless
My bites are toothless
My eyes are youthless
When my face has been strained
By the energy that was drained
On this ceaseless journey
To sate my ceaseless yearning
They don't look like the pictures they show
They only choose the photos that glow
They're so afraid of being alone
Willing to lie
To lure unsuspecting prey
And trap them in a spider web personality
But webs are useless against grander creatures
And become an annoyance
When all the wildlife
Can only see silk
And get itchy in the effected areas
In our minds we build barriers
In our hearts we grow wearier
Searching for someone to hold us tight at night
Someone that looks right in the light
Someone that helps fight all our plights
Someone to give that tranquil transition
Into that peaceful loving condition
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 4:23 AM UTC
Unexpected defeat
A shock to the nation
Politic Tsunami, they said
Time to mourn? Time to analyze?
Try to decipher this Tsunami
Being fed the same chocolate flavor
High time to switch to another
Which flavors they fancy now?
of sweets, of biscuits of cakes
Do you know?
Creativity, innovate, concern
Listen to their plights
Why do they retaliate?
Blame the Tsunami again?
So unintelligent, put yourself under a microscope
analyze, examine, please understand more.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 1:04 PM UTC
We use video games
To make video gains
Until the screen goes black
And reality attacks
We lose all our progress
In the deletion process
As we level up we devolve
Around the TV we revolve
The more experience we gain
The more moments we lose
Our memories forever stained
When this is what we choose
Our life inside a hard drive
Our life becomes a hard lie
We revel in being unwise
Rage quitting life
We enjoy strife
And avoid pesky light
When we live in the dark
With consumerist plights
We are all marks
Video games balance in a zone
Between game and art
The frustration starts
When art is confused for games
And games mistook for art
People take things to heart
And spitefully spew viper venom
If this is where games send them
Then why do we play?
We have no other way
To feel accomplishment
In a society that worships competition
Video games become the second edition
Of a life filled with loss
On our pixelated cross
We are murdered millions of times
Reminiscent of the millions of lies
That make us losers in the real world
Video games become our shiny pearl
The computer displays defeat
When our lives aren't complete
Because we need someone to beat
Not realizing our lives are conquered
By frivolous topics we've pondered
Our meaningless life squandered
And hope comes in the form of new releases
While inside our faulty headset is in pieces
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 3:13 AM UTC
So this is the new age
Of many iron lords
Did it live past the lineage
Did it give omage to the lore
Of many creatures before it
A timeless score
The age of aquarius
Our elders lead us in scorn
Of painful plights or new beginnings
Rage on kids
We’re winning
And let us know that on this night
A star burned out
A desert frozen on sight
Old crow bit the dust that night
They cried in failure but didn't know
A New Age is Coming
Crow knew it to be so
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 3:46 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
When you’re accustomed to darkness
You’re used to monotony
You’re used to redundance
You’re used to nothing
You hear of the outside world
You hear of its joys
You hear of its wonders
You hear of its plights
“Come on out” they say
“We won’t hurt you”
Little callings to show you something new
Or is it just to hurt me?
“What are friends? Do they bite?
Is it edible? Is it necessary?”
Questions I’m asking to seemingly no one
But a voice keeps beckoning to me
“Come out and see the wonders you miss
The energy of human beings
The warmth of the sun
The beauty of the world”
I’ve never been enticed this much before
Closer and closer do I inch out
My mind is saying “this is a bad idea”
My gut is saying “can’t hurt to try”
So.. I’m finally out
This isn’t so bad
I could get used to thi—
honk crash
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
--To W. H.
With a ripple of leaves and a ****** of streams
The full world rolls in a rhythm of praise,
And the winds are one with the clouds and beams--
Midsummer days! Midsummer days!
The dusk grows vast; in a purple haze,
While the West from a rapture of sunset rights,
Faint stars their exquisite lamps upraise--
Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!
The wood's green heart is a nest of dreams,
The lush grass thickens and springs and sways,
The rathe wheat rustles, the landscape gleams--
Midsummer days! Midsummer days!
In the stilly fields, in the stilly ways,
All secret shadows and mystic lights,
Late lovers murmur and linger and gaze--
Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!
There's a music of bells from the trampling teams,
Wild skylarks hover, the gorses blaze,
The rich, ripe rose as with incense steams--
Midsummer days! Midsummer days!
A soul from the honeysuckle strays,
And the nightingale as from prophet heights
Sings to the Earth of her million Mays--
Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!
Envoy
And it's O, for my dear and the charm that stays--
Midsummer days! Midsummer days!
It's O, for my Love and the dark that plights--
Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!
2.8k
Your heart gets heavy and you say lets do it again
Unable to raise a white flag to your good friend
your mind continues its destruction from within
Excessive thoughts and troublesome plights the enemy continues its rampage through the night
Strength unbearable impossible to fight
Incarcerating you to the prison that is your mind
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 3:41 PM UTC
Like a fool, with an unrecognized devotion,
I loved him deeply yet I wasn’t loved in return.
I got fed with all our irrational argumentation,
Often gave up, yet still had doubts if I’d end such relation.
Then I asked myself, shall I give him a chance?
Must I endure this unrequited love?
Hear thy mournful cries of trepidation and doubt,
“Why can’t I find the remnants of thy piteous heart?”
They say, better leave him and make a new start
But intense emotions of ambiguity would thwart.
Thus I tell myself, give him a second chance.
You’ll be happy soon; hold on though it’s an unrequited love.
Tears would then fall to somehow ease the sorrow
And try to veil the truth that thy heart cometh hollow.
But even if all tears’ dried up today ‘til tomorrow,
When all rains would halt, still, no rainbow will follow.
But I tell myself, wait for another chance.
That time maybe, he’ll learn, and it won’t be an unrequited love.
Years after, I still loved him amidst the endless plights.
He drained my soul; brought me to a black hole in life.
Thoughts that ‘I don’t deserve this’ amassed to greater heights
Then a string cut loose, I faced the sightless sight.
Now, I begged myself, none more of these chances.
Please, I plead, quit enduring this unrequited love!
Beneath a thousand twinkling stars in my windowpane,
Lies the most perfect replica of wishful thinking in suffering and pain---
My self with an unrequited love.
~Danessa Jutba~
Oct 22, 2011
Oct 22, 2011 at 5:23 AM UTC
Chronic, demonic, eccentric, magic, poetic, tragic! Dreams it seems of comical or unusual! Visual sights of many sites! Plenty fights, heights, nights, plights and lights! Dreams it seems of chimes, crime, gleams and grime. Moonbeams, rhymes, screams and times. Dreams it seems as they attempt to tempt with contempt! Some become exempt
and unkempt! Dreams it seems of afros, arrows, buffalos, rainbows
and sparrows! Ample, purple-apples hung from chapels! Dreams it seems of hurdles and simple people as pimples jumping from steeples! Dreams it seems of the begotten, forgotten and rotten. Dreams and themes of cotton candy clouds! Crowds in shrouds! Dreams it seems
of the dandy and handy! Glories and gory stories of the holy or unholy. Dreams it seems of crud and mud! The loud and proud! The
vowed and wowed! Dreams it seems of blood and floods! Dreams it seems of amazing, crazing and gazing! I’m phrasing; “Is this a dream a scheme or hell?” Well I couldn’t tell! As I began to scream and
yell! Those streams of dreams that I dream… Dreams that I may, these dreams that I say. Dreams it seems in dreamy dismay.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 10:19 PM UTC
A day or rather a night
Enthralled by smoke and wine,
More I try to forget, it clings to my mind.
Oh, what an amazing night!
With you by my side,
World just seemed a beautiful sight,
Endless hugs and care.
Oh, what an amazing night!
Talking over trivial things,
Laughing, joking and smiling,
So many soulful conversations…
Oh, what an amazing night!
Feeling of freedom,
Away from worldly plights,
Going out to eat maggi n pasta at the middle of the night.
Oh, what an amazing night!
If time could be reversed,
If it all could be rewind,
If we could go back to that night,
Laugh, shout or may be fight,
Be together carefree and smile
Just like that amazing night!!!
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 12:16 PM UTC
Left hope behind
Abandoned fights
All vicious signs
Of savage plights
Felt like a flea
A parasite
All savage plea
To savage plight
Oh Sisyphus
Exhausted might
Lay in a hearse
Oh savage plight
Heathen in prayer
God-given right
Sign of the lair
Of savage plights
A crimson snow
And eyes of white
But don't you know
These savage plights
By Doom's own herald, God's own **** creatures all collide
Like ole rye barrelled, seasoned to withstand savage plights
Let woman cry
Let man be scorned
Let savage plights
Shut closing doors
He'll will stay frozen
Heaven forlorn
The savage chosen
***** of Babylon
Live off of plights
All but one savage
Dragged day and night
Your horseless carriage
Call it a burden
That is your right
One thing's for certain
It's savage plights
With mind so prurient
Give humans blights
From West to Orient
Come savage plights
Dorian-like picture on the wall, too mild a fighter for a knight
Was God-forsaken, after all, dealt sole with and to others each a savage plight
Nov 16, 2019
Nov 16, 2019 at 3:32 PM UTC
I am neither lyrical JOHN KEATS
nor the great WB YEATS
I have never reached great heights
I am in my preliminary plights
I talk about fundamental rights
or the beauty of Diwali lights
most of my poetry is immature
but my friends praise it very pure
I know for sure
they don't want to hurt my heart
and never critisize my art
because it is the most sensitive part
But I know my own limits
I have got fewer merits
than unidentified demerits
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 2:34 PM UTC
ares,
wake your son.
tell him the battle will go away if he keeps his eyes
open long enough.
tell him that his mind is his greatest
comrade and enemy,
and that he does not need to know
when which is which just yet; but to
trust himself enough to
live with the consequence of either.
ares,
wake your son.
tell him to find his mother within him,
and not look to you and your plights as a
reflection.
he was born from love and war,
love and war,
and more time was spent in the womb of
the prior; that wars have been
waged for the word,
and resolved by the same.
ares,
wake your son.
remind him that, while the
sun does not revolve around him,
it depends on what he determines his
sun to be.
may he have many
and learn to appreciate them equally.
i am too old to keep making stars.
the sky is full.
ares,
wake your son.
press your thumb to his forehead,
wrap your arm around his shoulder,
he needs to know that he is cared for,
though i cannot understand;
who has he met that has told him otherwise?
touch him only if he asks,
but read his eyes- he is asking.
ares,
wake your son.
the son of war has battled.
tear him from the lip of vulcan,
remind him of the mistakes of troy,
teach him what these men did not have
that he does.
if he does not,
remind him that while he is your seed,
he is the nephew of athena.
promise him he can learn-
he can.
ares,
wake your son.
the son of love is loved.
wake him to remind him he is alive-
poseidon likes to play games,
and he seems to have gotten to his mind.
he has not yet drowned,
and he never will.
****** will bring him up with winds,
it is up to him to fall or ride them.
ares,
wake your son.
he has grieved too long
over battles he has not yet fought
and may never have to.
ares,
wake your son.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 7:10 PM UTC
The foundation of selfishness
Has much to do with wanting and desiring
And places a heavy focus on
Thoughts of obtaining and acquiring.
The instinctive ego takes control
And motivations become self-centered.
We're often heedless and unaware
Of the shadowy place that we have entered.
Naturally, self-centeredness
Colors what we think and do;
But NOT wanting and NOT desiring,
On the other hand, can be selfish, too.
Wanting: selfish? Not wanting: selfish?
How--we might ask--does that make sense?
NOT wanting may substantiate
Our way of life at others' expense:
Not wanting others to share the same freedoms;
Not wanting others to have the same rights;
Being silent when seeing injustice;
Ignoring people's struggles and plights;
Not acknowledging the efforts of others;
Not desiring to work toward peace;
Not wanting to know oneself;
Not caring if hatreds cease;
Being indifferent to the happiness of others;
Not allowing others to progress;
Not wanting to know how to fix
Our planet once we've made a huge mess.
NOT wanting in many ways
Speaks as loudly as word or deed,
And we become helpless victims
Of our sad and varying levels of greed.
What motivates us really?
Do we know, or do we care?
Is it safer NOT to know?
It might seem so, but beware.
- by Bob B
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
Is this the place where garland grows,
Among the olive branches low?
Splattered, cindered, clay abode,
Am I so alien?
Encircled those, in khaki drab;
Paying homage to the bags;
Which hold remains of brave, young lads;
Will I feel again?
Surrounded, chains of un-lit lights,
Which only shine in day, not nights;
Illumination betrays the plights,
Should we become aglow.
A tree of polypropylene,
Adorns the tower, so serene;
A branch of steel hid in-between,
That only gunner knows.
The air of diesel, not of Myrrh,
As pre-fab dwellings start to stir,
Indifferent as they observe,
Fading of the Star.
A failed attempt at lone ‘SandMan’
Adorned with boots, bayonet in hand,
Iraqi winds displace his stand,
Re-formed in Kandahar.
T’was yesterday, on Christmas Eve;
A day ahead of promised leave,
When Paul, Eric, Mark and Steve,
Took leisurely patrol.
In Tikrit, where he was born,
Some sixty years before this ‘Storm’,
They’d set-out on this early morn.
Assessing evening’s toll.
Among the buildings, scattered ruins;
Charred men, like shadows, on the dunes;
From temples soar cremated plumes;
One hour had gone by.
In the distance, beyond the spire,
Come ‘reports’ of skirmish fire,
Incessant screaming of the dire;
Then screams dissolve to cries.
Approach, inside a city square,
Where once a fountain teemed, right there,
Smoldering flesh, low burning hair;
A family splayed together.
Rank and putrid pieces strewn,
Mother’s face, shrapnel-hewn;
Attending Allah far too soon--
All their hands were tethered.
Domestic dogs, now on their own,
Fight for human flesh and bone;
Such holy image sets the tone,
As chorus strikes ‘Jihad’.
Eric stumbles, exploded knee,
Bearing witness to comrades, three,
Souls reclaimed near instantly;
Christmas in Baghdad.
Is this the place where garland grows;
Among the olive branches low?
How I miss New England snow,
This Christmas in Baghdad.
Nov 16, 2010
Nov 16, 2010 at 12:36 PM UTC
Perhaps I peered too closely into the abysmal potholes of other people’s souls
of whom I had no business pilfering through in the first place.
Now I ponder about feelings and memories that do not belong to me
some of which are long forgotten, disregarded, or even irrelevant.
Of this information that I have unearthed and processed, I know not what to do with it.
I am perpetually preoccupied with what lies beneath the surface point, which is what pushes me forward, yet could propel me to my downfall.
I just sit here and anxiously ponder this arcane information I acquiesced
through means not noble to my standard of normal morals.
There is nothing else to do.
For I rest here in the realm of reality.
This is no novel of fiction for me to figure out.
I can’t flip through the pages of people’s plights.
Something like that does not fall within my rights.
I am a mere meddling mortal amongst other mortals.
I am no god who sits proudly upon their plethora of others’ secrets.
I am just another human being.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
the light is never mightier
than right before the night
life without sight is a cliche
but for now we must say goodnight
for all the ladies are right
that i am awakening
tread lightly for life is mightier
than our petty plights
to overcome our minds
but the ego is sublime
replied the ironic therapist
festering in the bruised
corners of your cabinets
like ripe fruit
you soothe my headache
late for bed and early to rise
can make you dead as well as wise
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 12:38 AM UTC
Occasionally, I feel like,
I’m being buried by a landslide,
So I go into my room and turn off the lights,
Play music to drown out my plights.
Suddenly, I feel a bubbling,
Deep inside my soul.
It’s been bottled up,
My dam isn’t enough,
And I’m about to lose control.
The truth is,
Sometimes I cry.
When I’m tired of bottling it up inside.
A deconstruction of pride,
Fractured fragments left behind.
My dam can’t hold back,
The tsunami that’s on the attack.
Sometimes, it’s overwhelming,
It can feel like I’m drowning,
In a pool of sorrow,
Of my own making.
It’s hard to stop it,
So methodic,
It keeps on coming back.
Pathetic, sympathetic,
It’s difficult to control it.
Cathartic, ironic,
How do people deal with this?
The waterworks are a virus,
That everyone’s contaminated with.
Can’t show weakness,
Got to keep a straight face,
A mask from the pain.
Let the pillow be the bucket for my sorrows.
Let the tears dampen the fabric of the case.
Let my blankets cool me off, calm me down,
And help me change my frown.
Sometimes all we need,
Is an emotional release.
Perhaps, that’s the way,
To inner peace.
Sep 16, 2025
Sep 16, 2025 at 9:42 PM UTC
you want to watch me flourish
you nourish my soul
around you, I bloom
and all my colours show
so let's take it slow tonight
I want your bites and bruises
tender plights and kisses
aching for your pain
teeth trail veins, craving you
we'll leave the world behind
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 8:51 PM UTC
Evenings a lovable sensitive thang.
Opting to pass usual good morning greetings as some sang.
Skipping morning bits.. rushing into the afternoon.
She welcomed the mid day
Knowing with it a smile was on the way.
She allowed early evening to greet letting things bloom.
Working away late evenings as sleepy eyes rang.
Conversations a quick cute head nodding overhang.
Good nights are like lullabies of verbal hugs sangs.
Wasted evenings are snatching from beneath feet taken for granted rugs.
All to start another night in shimmering thoughtful plights.
Tugging away ribbons in flights.
Meaningful minds quietly dreamin.
As others may be secretly scheming.
Attentions paid to faded good morning hello's.
With hollow tones from yesterdays grading zero's.
Wash rinse and repeating..
Behaviors seems to be overwhelming.
Creativity craves new feelings.
Rare moments seems to be fleeting.
Evenings are acceptable, noondays are welcoming,
as are the rushing of mornings.
selinasharday rosePoet s.a.m 2019-5-1
May 3, 2021
May 3, 2021 at 8:28 AM UTC
There is a kingdom that resides in the sky,
Whose cool demeanor hold all upon high,
There be darkness within these walls,
Shadows to cause all to fall,
King makes his decrees,
Assasins plan sneakily,
Bell of thunder,
Of loud dismay,
Upon this altar,
Demons will rise,
To waylay all plights,
With great surprise,
Silence,
Then screams,
Innocence screams,
Terribly so,
But here comes the hero,
Bobbing to and fro,
Slash right then left,
Block left then right,
Sword clangs ring out,
Complete silence all about,
The darkness is dead,
Laid upon the battlefield,
Bled,
All will mourn the lost,
Was it worth the cost,
Peace throughout the land,
The king rewarded the merry man,
With fire,
And a wooden stand,
Burned at the stake,
A heroic man
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 8:51 PM UTC
Burn my trees with
Raging spring's desires
Toxic my river with
Flowing summer's sadness
Pollute my air with
Falling autumn's hopes
Hold my heart with
Freezing winter's loves
Cycle this year
Slow perserverance
A step at a time
Patience guidance
Demanding sacrifices
Thoughtful fickled flights
Fairy tale's stories
Deceiving future plights
Weighing both shoulders
Declining all offers
Not all goods
Guaranteed for auctions
Bidding the worst
Inviting trial lessons
For our life's
Full of surprises
Grinding salts from
Summer's sadness
Drizzling our plate of
Spring's desires
Infused balance reviving
Autumn's hopes
Undying believes in our
Winter's loves
Life is a cycle revolving mystery
Spinning the air that we're breathing
Falling those tears our eyes are crying
Rising with smiles from our cherish presents
Rewinding the clock for our future predicaments
Not realising we will always be
A full circle
©2014 Maman Screams
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 9:03 AM UTC
New scenes seen
between three
beams. Streams
of white light
write plights by
rye bread farms.
Alarmed, were the
workers; surely
hurling any hay
bail unveiled from
summer's uprising-
-spring. Even though
I fling arrows like I'm
In a gladiator ring.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 5:18 AM UTC
It was written in the beginning, a beginning before Britain, before folklore, gore and war. A beginning then, when the lords created, decorated and separated the night and also the bright, bright light. Therefore, a delight! In the beginning, creating the seven ways of days and the rays. The birth of earth, the black ravens, the havens and the heavens. A beginning of clean slates, dreams, schemes and themes!
As I blink and wink, badly and sadly I think… An ending, with fate or an ending with no ascending or commending date? Let’s debate and negotiate! A beginning, of Pharaohs, their arrows and the sparrows. An ending of sorrow? A beginning, borrowed from our hour’s tomorrow? An ending, I deem, that forever bends, defends, depends, pretends and never, ever seems to end. The heavens specialties and
hell’s cruelties. Governments and their restraints! Negative and positive lengths and strengths. A beginning and an ending; betrayed and strayed, long before many of us were to play or say. Stories of cities, glories and their pities! Starving nations and Haitians! Expensive vacations and relations! The elapsed and relapsed! Perhaps, the mishaps and disruption of our corruption’s eruption and ending
destruction? Hey! I say, let’s turn a page past the basked, the masked and vast. A fold past the cages that enrage-rage, wage and old age.
The detained delights, the petty fights and plights. Why can’t we each reunite? Unite forever! Drop and stop this harm and fight. Fly into the night, together with our almighty arms and mighty charms. Primarily, in the beginning or ending, let us not negatively but too positively and ultimately amend! Children, men and women, amen.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 8:18 AM UTC