"powerhouse" poems
Girls played hopscotch
While boys played ball
To some of us kids
It made no sense at all.
What if a girl had a
Powerhouse right arm
Would you want her staying
Back home on the farm?
Blue and pink
Pink and blue
Does all this insanity
Make any sense to you?
Hammers and nails
And puppy dog tails.
And all the nonsense
That nursery rhyme entails.
And what if a boy
Had balance and agility?
Would you look on him
As having a disability?
Girls had to take cooking
Boys had to take shop.
Why does this sexism
Never come to a stop?
Boys get a box of toys
Girls get some dolls.
Sometimes that makes
No real sense at all.
Girls take lessons on
How to dance and live.
Boys learn to ridicule
Not to take, but to give.
Blue and pink
Pink and blue
Does all this insanity
Make any sense to you?
Hammers and nails
And puppy dog tails.
And all the nonsense
That nursery rhyme entails.
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 5:36 PM UTC
Oh mighty powerhouse and largest gland
Snug in the abdominal cavity
Though few thy function fully understand
Should praise thee with the utmost gravity
Three pounds thy weight, but worth thy weight in gold
Four precious lobes through portal fissure fed
Tiny lobules in hexagonal mould
Each one formed by cuboidal cells widespread
Arranged in columns round a central aisle
Converting glucose into glycogen
Form plasma proteins and essential bile,
A, D, prothrombin and fibrinogen
De-aminates the protein that we eat
De-saturates the fat, produces heat
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
I miss the drunks. The y3lling.
The inhalation of beer and cigarettes
Chased down by ego and godlessness.
How many times
hqve I written to this song,
and never heard beauty once?
Like the sweet pinch of a grapefruit,
before the sunset of sweat,
the same sunset that hailed warfare for boys.
I loved you so much once,
I still do, but you are like mist,
and I am blind.
I miss backstabbers, creeps, catfish,
vampires, crows,
an angel.
When I was young I would screech down the hill
in my toy truck,
plastic chassis a powerhouse,
canary and howling,
I'd crash into the same cherry tree a million times.
Call me Avalanche.
Call me Indisputable.
Call me the Powerhouse.
Call me,
I missed you.
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
Finally it is done.
For months I have been
collecting ingredients
for the magical elixir -
home grown ginger and rosemary,
fresh organic garlic, onions and lemon,
finely chopped jalapeno pepper,
powdered turmeric,
Ceylon cinnamon,
tulsi, kelp and black pepper.
What eluded me was the
pungent, fresh horseradish,
unexpectedly absent in our stores
and farmers markets,
until a birthday trip to New York,
when we found the massive roots
in a Russian market.
And, once properly chopped
and shredded and zested,
all is covered and bathed
in organic apple cider vinegar,
a superfood in itself,
where it will draw out the
healing constituents
of each vital ingredient,
creating a powerhouse of wellness.
And now we wait.
Four to eight weeks
of shaking the jars every day
before we drain the lot,
run the pulp through a juice extractor
and add the final touch ...
local honey, raw and unfiltered,
adding sweetness and
its own preserving power,
along with a strong boost to health.
A long time to wait
for this Nectar of the Gods,
but so very worth it:
a shot of this each day
and colds and flu stand no chance -
bacteria and virus alike
overwhelmed -
say goodbye to illness.
Let us now give thanks
to our grandmothers
and all the lay herbalists
of generations long past,
for through their efforts,
our own knowledge
is greatly enriched.
We stand on the shoulders of giants.
5July2015
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 9:19 PM UTC
She knew, right afterward.
Amazing.
She knew.
I took her word for it.
Oo-Oo-Oocyte!
The largest, roundest cell
Females have. It is
Visible to the eye
Clothed or nakey.
With the largest surface
Volume in relation to
Her cell-fluid-gorged surface.
One is produced ea/month.
One?
Yowza.
Me?
Millions of the little buggers.
Millions! Yeah! THAT’s
The ticket!
And tiny those little tickets are.
Hardly more than a nucleus with
That powerhouse of the cell,
The Mitochondrial outboard motor,
Propelling the tail.
The smallest and straightest
Human cell
(Cool tail, though)
The juxtaposition is kind
Of amazing.
Large vs. small.
Roundest vs. straightest.
Tail-propelled nucleus
Vs.
Moon-shaped cytoplasm.
The opposite, embryologically-
Speaking.
And she was positive,
POSITIVE
We’d conceived.
Roughly 9 months later,
I was there. Physically.
The rest of me was
Possibly sunning in Togo.
Kind of freaked me out,
The birthing process,
The first time.
My son. My baby boy.
Our child.
5/28/91.
I’m more proud and more
Astonished at the man
My little baby has grown into
With each passing day.
Golden child, beginning
Life with blonde hair,
Almost white, darkening
As he grew into the French-
Indian DNA of his
Mom’s side of the family.
He is so much like
His Mother, for which
I’m very happy,
Because his Mother
Is simply amazing
And worthy of an entire
Slew of poems just
To describe her.
And I’ve another
Golden child
Gold blessing vein running
True and deep, different
Than his older brother
Of seven years,
Yet similar, opposite in
Some ways, having grown strong
As the little plaything for
His older brother’s friends,
Making him very tough,
Strong as a team of oxen,
A work ethic he inherited
From Dad, Mom, Brother
Yet fitting together as
Loving siblings can
When they have God
At the center of their lives.
Thank You, God, for
My two sons.
I’m protective, but I know
They do not belong to me.
They are Your blessings
To my wife and me.
They are Your blessings
To this world, set in motion,
Wound up to take what they see
And make it better, and
To prevent it from getting worse.
They will do Your work.
We were the biological
Vessels that delivered
Them from Your world
Before
To this world,
Now.
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 5:12 PM UTC
We are Manchester. The City, The place, we’re hospitable people with a smile on our face. You can beat us, mistreat us, and blow us to hell. We have had it all before and we don’t dwell. We’re the northern powerhouse of the northwestern elite, Where the Geordie's, The Scousers, The Yorkshire’s retreat. The premier League, The Roses Cricket, The Heineken Cup Is a one way ticket. United and City two football teams with stadiums full, bursting at the seams.
We are Mancunians Of this fair City, The People, The Love, The old nitty gritty The worker, The Shirker, The Homeless, The immigrants, each one of these they are all itinerants. The Steel, The Cotton, long since forgotten the old smokey chimneys blew out smoke that was rotten. The Massacre at Peterloo. Local politicians just don’t have a clue. With all the sights this city has on show here’s something that people don’t really know. Manchester is where New Zealand Born Ernest Rutherford split the Atom.
We Are Manchester, The City, the Place, where Sir Humphrey Chetham has his musical grace a school of music with musical taste. And where a man with a paintbrush painted streets on boxes. I don’t think Lowry ever painted foxes. And A comedian from Collyhurst who was absolutely awesome, a real funny guy by the name of Les Dawson, and where a man from Chorlton on Medlock became Prime Minister back in the day. David Lloyd-George had a hell of a lot to say.
We Are Manchester and it's the place for me. And a proud Mancunian I’m glad to be. I’ll sit in a cafe watching people pass by. They are all in a hurry and I wonder why. I see a business man in a three piece suit, and the homeless guy that is counting his loot. There's the girl on the street giving out free papers she is smoking those ciggies that give off those vapours. It's pouring with rain and she’s getting wet she’s worried about money to pay off her debt.
We Are Manchester and this is our City don’t waste your time we don’t want no pity. We are Manchester we are steeped in tradition we leave other cities standing. There’s no competition. Where A man from Moss Side a Vicar not a Dean called Rev George Garrett invented the submarine. And where the great Anthony Wilson was a journalist & impresario and a man named John Nichols invented the great drink called Vimto. and so When he wrote “This Is the Place” I’m sure he did so with a smile on his face. We Are Manchester and I’ll state our case because we are Manchester and we are ace.
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 9:45 PM UTC
I am only pretty when I'm naked.
I did not give you permission to **** me inside of your head.
Please get your imaginative hands off of my unobtainable soul,
and close your mouth,
you're drooling like a coward when he sees something that he cannot have.
I belong to no one but myself.
I am old enough to know the rights of my body.
I am only pretty when I'm naked.
Stop recording every moment we will never have with your undistracted eyes.
I did not ask for this,
I am covered in clothes that do not accent the curvature of my frame and yet still you gawk,
and I will be asked what I was wearing that night.
I was wearing my right to say no,
but to him I was wearing my inferiority.
I am only pretty when I'm naked.
I am a female powerhouse.
I am competent with my tongue in many ways yet you ache to abuse it.
I am inclined to tell you what is best for me, but I am a woman.
And I know nothing.
You will beat it into me until I actually know something so well that I choke on it.
I am only pretty when I'm naked.
I am incapable of loving because, to you, I am not justified,
so you will show me how until I cannot breathe any longer.
The bruises and scars will taint my porcelain skin like mud on brand new sneakers,
except the black, blue, and crimson cannot be rinsed from my body
as easily as my clothes were removed by you.
I am only pretty when I'm dead.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 1:23 AM UTC
I saw your face in a paper sky,
Saw how good it looked in black-and-white.
The light in your eyes is
One of those pre-lit things-
That is, to say,
That when you wink,
The sky goes gray.
Heart Ripper, you're a decorative lover,
One red-hot summer.
Heart Ripper, what a gorgeous shame.
Love is love, under any given name,
But after a hit, it's forever lame.
You're the classic American case
Of mud inside a jar,
You air-brushed lonely-heart.
Perfect imperfection,
A photograph in a frame,
You're smiling, but dustless.
Dustless, and perfect.
Heart Ripper, you've gained a red list,
And another little lover wrapped up in your fist.
Heart Ripper, she's on my side,
If I can't give it back to you,
She will in good time.
Just like some music in the canal,
You remind me of a favorite song.
But this final number's old,
Over-played, over-sold.
Skipping in that broken-record fashion,
Really,
I mean to say,
That this is a tune from the past,
That's closing fast.
Heart Ripper, you're a powerhouse lover,
The blanket superior.
Like a windbreaker in December,
You're there, but not quite enough.
Heart Ripper, never fixing what you've torn;
The needle, the thread, the sewing hand--
Take this as a tune of pity,
As a brand new set of plans.
Hero, hero,
Get it while it lasts.
You're invincible now,
A regular rough horse from the city.
Go home,
And just for good measure,
Repent, before you receive
More than just a tune of pity.
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 5:07 PM UTC
Your thoughts can cage you or release you
Mind can give you a new realization
Or sweep you under a deep spell of hallucination
Imaginary demons can seize your thoughts
Depends on what our thoughts are
Repeated thoughts can become a reality
Facing at fine surprises or rude awakenings
Feed the mind with right thoughts
Let not unwarranted thoughts sneak in
Mind is powerful, subconscious a powerhouse
Thoughts in slumber suddenly becomes a reality
Choose your reality, for it depends on the thoughts
A sparkling and clear mind harbors positivity
Positive thoughts will steer you towards your destination
Such is the power of thoughts; we delve not much into them
Mind the thoughts and you will celebrate life
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
i am the stars we gaze upon at night.
i am a guide at first glance; Polaris --
but upon further inspection i am a fiery powerhouse of passion
i have burned
and blazed forth
for years; traveled across lightyears and parsecs
in my time.
i am the hunter, Orion;
Andromeda, the ruler of men;
i am Pisces fish in Sun and
Gemini twins in Moon;
and yet here i am:
still the smallest of everything
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC
she sits at the dining table
afternoon sun streaming in
doing battle with the cryptic crossword
cursing the old woman she has become when words elude
the hand holding the pen wrinkled like the armpits of the of the eucalypt branches in the garden belongs to the same old crone who uses the walking stick leaning against the fading arm chair
once upon a time she held court
powerhouse of the labor party
corporate tiger
made her fortune from men in suits who cowered before her fearsome glare perfected in the bathroom mirror along with her makeup
mother, wife, business woman
she did it all and had it all
but time passes slowly with each orbit around the sun
time smoothes, soothes and wears away the edges of youth
luring you towards the twilight of lifes great destiny
the glare faded along with the eyes that now need glasses and a reading light for the evening paper
where once she stood tall against destruction of the environment
now she leans on her walking stick advocating Philip Nitschke and her right to exit at a time of her choosing
the ache in her heart for the lost vibrancy dimmed by the arthritis that makes climbing the stairs an exercise of will
prada heels and armani long ago gave way to swollen ankles, dr scholls and elastic waisted slacks
a life well lived does not make growing old any more appealing
she monitors her own decline as her friends pass away around her one by one
lingering at lifes edge as she tries to convince them its ok to go
wondering when her own turn to go will arrive or if she will find the courage to bring it on before her mind or her body betray her
taking mobility and choice in equal measure
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 9:12 PM UTC
Poetry
stands us on the overlook of the forest
and makes us see the ladybug
in the shade
of an indistinguishable tree.
Poetry
takes time for the janitor
no one has ever spoken to.
Poetry
gives voice to the frightened child
and the bird who forgot how to sing.
Poetry
smells like the garbage in the apartment
of a 5-day drunk
letting us wonder
whether it is his heart or his mind that is broken.
Poetry
turns a pacifist into a powerhouse.
Poetry
wraps words into presents
becoming gifts of love
and breaths of life
in our common humanity.
Poetry
makes us sticky on the floor of a movie house
or bad caramel apple decisions,
and unfortunate one-night rendezvous.
Poetry
puts portals at impenetrable walls.
Poetry
brings salvation to the Atheist,
hell to the saint,
equality to both.
Poetry
makes room for love
regardless how redundant
or naive.
Poetry
bleeds on our behalf
that we might die a thousand deaths
and live to die again.
Poetry
makes the forgotten glaring,
the trivial a celebrity,
and illuminates the streets as a marquee
for what had once been insignificant.
Poetry is a spotlight.
Everything is a star.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
I wanted to find something to bring back to life.
Lately, these stanzas have been on repeat.
My words: resurrected.
Stories engrave themselves in my synapses
A memory forms and then collapses
A Heart skips beats and then relaxes
Powerhouse of nerves in through the spine
Messages from hands moving to the mind
No rush, steady-paced climb
Following the crooked lines
Pulled apart, then pushed together
Overloaded with the
Doing and undoing tether
Smiles slowly building the road to better
Best medicine is the sound of laughter
The world spins, and spins faster
Without even a second thought
Of what happens after
Los secretos, el momento,
Las caras que vemos
Pero aqui, en sonrisas,
Aqui nos quedemos
En los ojos siempre,
Facil nos perdemos
Cada maravilla es diferente que vemos
Es que las cosas no son tan complicadas
La vida esta llena de cosas delicadas
Pero es una lucha, ya sabes eso
Toma un corazon fuerte en el pecho
Exposure, exposure, to the other moving closer
Admiration reaching and pulling voices over
Of passion, and into the seas of liberation
Speaking a language with no available translation
Rules broken, laws and regulations
Systematic arrangements of our kings and queens
In different moments, places,
Different things
But the beauty is more than the perfection
Or imperfection in the seams
Lining the different parts of la vita bella
Every part of the whole of what we fiend
Filling the empty spaces sitting vacant in between
From past, told and untold dreams
The path in life winds and turns
Full of chances and opportunities to get burned
Full of the learned and unlearned
Growing pensive,
Minds fill with the incentive
To rise above,
Intentionally connected
v.xxx.xi
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 1:59 PM UTC
tender little plant,
you weep and sway with the bluster of a wind.
and when night falls,
you clench your shivering petals,
wishing the sun would kiss you once again,
and while dreaming, aching for that safe warmth,
you withstand
the dark, cold air,
long empty silence,
and the relentless clattering of raindrops.
remember,
frightened little plant,
that morning will rise.
your proud green leaflets will soak up the blooming sunlight,
and churn the elements into a life-force.
you are a powerhouse.
the bright warm atmosphere
seeps
deep
into your lungs,
and fills you,
pouring into your spine, your fragile stem,
collecting
into your baby-hair roots,
soft and thin, as they hug the cold, callous soil
that encapsulates you.
sometimes, you are to be painfully lonely.
remember,
brave little plant,
that it takes patience to become a tree.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 12:13 PM UTC
More potent than caffeine
I am electricity
I am twitches
and I will shoot out in all directions
my powerhouse is your stomach
Feel me
in your
fingertips
static shock without contact
suddenly you are running
racing
and will fidget as your brain
fires sticky signals
tiresome synapses
it repeats
for eleven years it has
take me to your quacks
I’m done with my anxiety.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 12:14 PM UTC
From out of space my love re appeared
and fast I ran away disbelieving.
while hunted by webs
of predators in greed modes
trashing impeccable character
inborn parenthood trait
courage, heart skill grace,
as weapons eluding chase
avating jealousy outface.
Each grotesque stunt
trampled me to fall in pain.
losing all crops of my hard labour scenarious so turbulent to depict.
in any story poetry or book
My love spark within outlived
travesty and misery sent in.
From an ancient love spell
propelled a new lovers aim
following me with grace
deep as space, honor truth
understanding patience
Twin loss, twin dreams
Experiences base the glue.
Large as the cosmos we both
Phathom, thirst, crave and love.
Synchronicity in telepathy;
the cosmos conspires offering
cards to read virtual modes
to explore our receptiveness.
Our loving is a Deja-VU indeed.
An ancient powerhouse,
with outworldly, genetic legacies
We both share in our weave.
a hybrid mutant Adam and Eve.
Who's my mystic
beloved?A brightest star
over Jaipur! Intergalactic,
art at heart.
Poet verse, he's honey bee.
His aim is firm as his name
He is me I am him within!
similar avatar in the outside
We tingle a double mystic smile.
A magnetic vortex keep us both
In one LOVEz voyage loop,
through space.🐝🐝🛸.
His vessel his gates his hands
His mind,heart, soul is my own.
Nothing and no one can pull us
apart, we call HP our
time machine to beyond
Alpha Century bound.
Thus, a billion stars cinthilate
with gentle beams of hope
Antimatter lovers lane
And our heart Rd-Ad
our home.🦋🦋.
~~~~
By: Karijinbba.
Inspired by- Good better best MOI.
Aug 5, 2021
Aug 5, 2021 at 11:33 AM UTC
I wanted to find something to bring back to life.
Lately, these stanzas have been on repeat.
My words: resurrected.
Stories engrave themselves in my synapses
A memory forms and then collapses
A Heart skips beats and then relaxes
Powerhouse of nerves in through the spine
Messages from hands moving to the mind
No rush, steady-paced climb
Following the crooked lines
Pulled apart, then pushed together
Overloaded with the
Doing and undoing tether
Smiles slowly building the road to better
Best medicine is the sound of laughter
The world spins, and spins faster
Without even a second thought
Of what happens after
Los secretos, el momento,
Las caras que vemos
Pero aqui, en sonrisas,
Aqui nos quedemos
En los ojos siempre,
Facil nos perdemos
Cada maravilla es diferente que vemos
Es que las cosas no son tan complicadas
La vida esta llena de cosas delicadas
Pero es una lucha, ya sabes eso
Toma un corazon fuerte en el pecho
Exposure, exposure, to the other moving closer
Admiration reaching and pulling voices over
Of passion, and into the seas of liberation
Speaking a language with no available translation
Rules broken, laws and regulations
Systematic arrangements of our kings and queens
In different moments, places,
Different things
But the beauty is more than the perfection
Or imperfection in the seams
Lining the different parts of la vita bella
Every part of the whole of what we fiend
Filling the empty spaces sitting vacant in between
From past, told and untold dreams
The path in life winds and turns
Full of chances and opportunities to get burned
Full of the learned and unlearned
Growing pensive,
Minds fill with the incentive
To rise above,
Intentionally connected
v.xxx.xi
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 6:17 AM UTC
Easier to snap stitches sown by a witch,
Individual infliction, comforts to materialize,
Mentally-made pain,
Not one to take a knife to my vein,
Mentally tortured till I'm convinced to claw at those arteries
Peer pressure, I am more than just a friend look for gain,
Naturally nourished before incubation
Neurologically nestled till you learn of our need,
To share an existence, that I will also perceive,
If only we could say, If only I could see,
Our minds can ******* the bold,
Those egos bring us deeper than the worms,
The roots of a cemetery’s dying trees no one can reach,
Keeping us quickly exiting this existence,
The discovery of complete darkness or another chance to perceive,
The mystery that keeps you listening to me,
From lobes that function and breathe
My torment fostered from a self-destructive process,
Thoughts fomented in the cranial corridors of a mind in need,
Independent and only recently unaware,
The mind doesn’t fear the electric chair,
Each day will bring trouble,
But some will bring you peace and a sense of a soul once more,
In the wake of mind that mandates, manipulates,
Be the powerhouse that reaches for your own controls,
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 7:23 AM UTC
A girl was born in Bed–Stuy, Brooklyn on the 30th of June to a family of influence and wealth descending from the very man John C. Calhoun, himself
Lena Horne was a beautiful woman and soul; diversity radiated from her very essence from her spirit itself
Her racial heritage was a mix of African American, Native American, and European descent - family pride and honor came with her family name as the Horne was one of the First Families of Brooklyn
As raised and nurtured in a cosmopolitan sense, she was more than a pretty face and lovely name
The chanteuress was also a civil rights activist who fought for the rights of others, she denounced racism and fought injustice which unfortunately still exists
An epitome of style, elegance, and grace whose charms, bravery, and charisma will never be forgotten; she left an indelible mark in history
Known for her commanding presence, subtle dignity, and strength - she was a powerhouse in her own right
She graced this world with pride and strength; a rare soul and beautiful heart
May her legacy forever shine, cherish, and protect the future generations to follow
She will never be forgotten and always a light for coming tomorrows
Rest in Peace
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 11:21 AM UTC
My Love for You
Inspires my soul to expand
Ignites poetry
Allows me to feel the creation within me
I live in a place with you where the world is technicolor
Sharper
Crisper
Vibrant
I live in a place with you
Calmer
Safer
Sweeter
Loved
Happiness abounds it is free
like a twirling Goddess in the Sun
There is flow
Tapped into inspired thought energy
Imagination released and running wild
Free to be Me
Free to be We
Just the thought of you, my love,
Carries my soul to places filled with glimpses dispersed complete unfolding
A Beautiful symphony
Bringing me closer to the divine
In Me
In You
In Us
In We
I’m sorry it took me so long to see
Don’t think, just feel
Allow
Stop resisting the only truth
Love unexplained
Powerful
Magical
Capable
A mystery when allowed is not mysterious at all
Thinking turned to feeling
Turned to allowing
A powerhouse
A pulse
A force
Divinity to flow through me, opening up the lines of inspiration
I would call you my muse, the very person I can say turned it all on, brought it to my doorstep and then stood in the shadows until I could feel it so deeply that I could no longer deny its existence
In the process, I grew to love myself so deeply, an example you set for me
I love me to the depths
AND
I love you to the depths
AND
that love, the complete acceptance of you and me, allows me to feel the beautiful world around me wholly and completely
Calling you a muse would be wrong though
You are the one that brought me face to face with love in all of its forms
Knowing even when you weren’t present, Love remained
You allowed me to know Love, the truly powerful force that Albert Einstein described in his letter to his daughter:
“This universal force is LOVE.
When scientists looked for a unified theory of the universe they forgot the most powerful unseen force.
Love is Light, that enlightens those who give and receive it.
Love is gravity, because it makes some people feel attracted to others.
Love is power, because it multiplies the best we have, and allows humanity not to be extinguished in their blind selfishness.
Love unfolds and reveals.
For love we live and die.
Love is God and God is Love.
This force explains everything and gives meaning to life. This is the variable that we have ignored for too long, maybe because we are afraid of love because it is the only energy in the universe that man has not learned to drive at will. - Albert Einstein”
Sep 20, 2023
Sep 20, 2023 at 2:35 PM UTC
What a breath of fresh air
Seeing you once again
Your company is always welcome
So good to befriend you love
I sure can use your comfort
Your elegant, powerhouse vibe
Quenches my lonely soul
I am in need of you
Its been such a long time
Since our dear minds floated
In a milieu of ignited joy
I have combed the vicinity
From the periphery of the night
Til the nascency of the sun
Close by and far about,
To cross your seraphic path
Once again, here we are...
So come take a walk with me
Let us prance along the lake
Dash through spring's leaves
Exalting each other's presence
Let us dance in airborne circles
Together, as inseparable canaries
My thoughts of you
With that celestial killer smile
Your dazzling eyes of pensiveness
That touch of sweet caress
Is strongly needed in my life
Spending time with you
Is truly like no other
My adulation for you
Is passionately unspoken
This pash I have for you
Has kindled as we bonded
There is honestly no way
I'm letting you go
No more, never again
So take my hand
Slowly spin with me
Into love's unknown
Together forever.
©Michael P. Smith
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 4:03 AM UTC
I find it sad that I've begun associating you with headaches and bad dreams more often than not.
It's like the only way to reach out to you is to reschedule the days you want to fall in love with me all over again like those days are just some sort of meeting for me to potentially become a home for you.
My arms are open like the front doors of a 5 story mansion with a small attic added on top like icing to a cake and yet you refuse to close them for good for me.
You arrive and pull open every single window and door, you turn on all of the lights, and every trinket that thrives off of my energy is switched on in addition to that without a care in the world of how much of my electricity you are wasting.
Eventually you come to the heart of the house, you turn the flame on high on the stove, you walk straight out and you leave me to burn again.
It's every single time I see you that you do this to me, and somehow I always found the tools to rebuild myself.
This time is different. This time I can't because I'm shattered beyond repair. Being the glorious architect that you are I figure you could design the sort of place you actually wish to live in.
But you won't.
I'm not in your outline anymore, am I?
You once told me you wanted to fix me, and now is your final chance, because once I find the courage, the meaning, and my resilience to assemble myself once more... Just know that:
I'm closing all of the doors and locking them from the inside with golden keys that I can melt down into reminders of who I'm to not let back in. My arms will not open up for your embraces any longer, lover, not even if you try to pry them open.
I'm closing all of the windows and barring them from your needy hands. They will have to find a new toy to play with.
I'm turning off all of the lights so someone new can learn where the lightswitches to my soul are located, since no matter how often I moved them from you, you still knew me well enough to turn me on.
I'm extinguishing the flame that is constantly flickering between our fragile figures, blowing it out like a candle, and never giving you the ability to light me up again.
I am a female powerhouse and I belong to no one.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 11:20 PM UTC
An abundant blessing becomes over-used
Becomes an economical powerhouse
For those who exploit its insignificance.
Largely significant to individuals who hurry nature
Rapid growth aided by toxic substances
Forcing nature to suffer a life full of exploitation.
Humans put price tags on nature.
Something priceless in its natural state gets demoted in value.
But, its value to humans - priceless.
Without sustainable and artificial growth of stand-alone insignificant pieces, a whole species of intoxicating humans will be eradicated.
Luscious greenery and growth follows the death of a human.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 2:58 PM UTC
(Bang)
Metaphoric gun shots
As the writer ***** and locks
His pen
His target market...tarnished women and selfish men
The act of his ways are not violent, nor resent
He just kept it all in until his mind finally was spent
So here's a penny for his thought, while his concious develops a morse
Of an idea that spilt his wig, like his hair line and scalp had a divorce
Sceptive of his motives, you don't think he sees clear
You don't think he has the ability to drink his emotions and still steer
You don't know his capabilities that's why you still doubt his abilities
"A monster can't be tamed"
I've seen the transition: hostility to tranquility!
Stop with stupidity,
your brain could be a powerhouse
But water has to touch the seed before you can grow and let a flower sprout
Life is all steps, taking the elevator is a huge regret
You choose your own path with steps
You could be stuck in a elevator in which your height you must except
My words aren't in the past tense
I'm speaking more yet saying less?
Becoming a pro---while searching high and low
seems you always look for the gress. Growth is infinite, you never stop becoming your best!*
Now pay attention folks, that last line meant somthin, the kids on his way back..back like I LEFT SOMETHING!(echo out)
_Im Back #GCK
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 2:15 PM UTC
The Brewery
Located superolateral to 'The Abdomen'
Runs under the control of the four beertaps
Releasing the poisonous drops of frustration
Filling up the body of desolation
Drunk on liquor
Cells getting thicker
Squeezing out the blood, the pain,
the anger, the rage
Caged, in for so long
Growing more strong
Out of control and beyond
Anger so hot, so volatile
So stubborn, so in denial
Intoxicates itself within the factory of whiskey
Sipping in Jack Daniels to satisfactory
Feeling burned, its vessels burst out with migraines
A red face, blood shot eye strain
Bouts of anger frustrate the powerhouse
This house of pain
A house on fire
No ounce of rain
A house on fire
Caged, Tamed, Chained
Retired..
Drained.
This house of pain
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 8:30 AM UTC