"powering" poems
Left -
my desires boiling...
my needs over-powering...
carefree
Right-
my light flickering...
my heart yearning...
Passionate
Center -
Logical
Steady
Reliable
- March 11th, 2014 11:48 pm
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
Time passing -
Is not the tick, tick, tick, of the movies.
It is a barely audible, high-pitched ringing in your ears.
It is the low thrum of a distant compressor somewhere.
It is the sound of the long shadows brushing against the wall.
Time passing -
It is the fabric rustle of changing your position in a chair.
A cat padding along the oak floorboards of the hallway.
An electric cube powering a computer.
The sizzle of speakers turned on with nothing playing.
Time passing -
I hear it from a silent telephone,
From the idle doorknob and hinges.
From wooden steps leading to my front door.
Time passing -
It is all of this,
And nothing.
So much nothing.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 2:42 PM UTC
There's electricity in the air
I can sense what it would feel like
I in vision it
My own premonition
When we hold hands
The static runs through my veins
My hairs stands at attention
Goose bumps arise beneath them
I can feel the charge of it racing through my veins
Powering my heart
I can feel the current
Powered by you
But then
You removed your wire from the circuit
Leaving me alone to power it myself
Now I'm useless
Powerless
Without you
An incomplete circuit
The electricity flowing through me is no more
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 2:03 AM UTC
*Flowers
Are a reminder
That without a little rain
We wouldn't be able to bloom,
Without clouds
And a little bad weather
We wouldn't be able to smell
Their divine fragrant perfume.
Flowers
Are a reminder
That we need gloomy days
So we can highly value
The sun's radiant,
Life-powering, life-giving light,
Because without
Any form of darkness
We wouldn't appreciate
The glorious clear-blue skys
And the gift of precious daylight.
By Lady R.F. (C)2017*
Aug 24, 2017
Aug 24, 2017 at 4:53 AM UTC
How deeply the lie was conceived
in a gospel of faith and ignorance
How easily the people were deceived
to separate through intolerance
Truth is powering the commotion
A hunger reminds the desire
Reaction is empowering the emotion
Friction sends us the fire
Who will burn their skin
Lying on life’s beach
Who will turn within
and practice what they preach
Who will feed the flames
Who decides the names
Fear
Ego
Pride
They have a book…
the ghost-writer’s lied
Concealed in symbols
Hidden in signs
Revealed in geometry
and between the lines
In passages
are messages
In shape
In colour
In sound
“Man, Gnow Thyself”
so ‘Self’ is found
Who can see
beyond the distractions
What will be
the cost of our inactions
Annihilation of the Way
Co-creation every day
YOU DECIDE!
© Verso-(David Moule) 16/01/08
Sep 19, 2010
Sep 19, 2010 at 5:31 PM UTC
Before taking out a clean sheet of paper,
I hold before the blue of the window
a freshly-sharpened pencil pointing toward heaven
and blow the imperceptible dust
from the needle-tip
before getting down to business.
For in life’s long journey
few things afford greater satisfaction
than turning the crank
and powering the cylindrical burrs
of a mechanism which sharpens
the dulled mind of a yellow number 2 pencil.
In the silver pencil sharpener
I witness the marriage of utility and beauty
—a model for art and a purpose for life
celebrated each morning before this small altar.
2.6k
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly found significant.
A vast stretch of abandonment and history - long forgotten and left to be consumed by Time himself.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly understood.
Decorated by Mother Nature with an asortment of trees and shrubs and an abundance of flowers it's only scar which betrayed it to the present was a solitary man-made structure, tattoed with the bold letters of "FALCON SECURITY" - surely an untold testimony to this place's past life.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly acknowledged.
Ocassionally it would become the temporary haven of hobbos and hermits alike. Living in mutual homelessness they sort comfort under the trees, in the confines of the hideous building or simply amongst the long, billowing grass of the place. They would build thingie-ma-jigs, what-ja-ma-call-its and thing-a-ma-bobs and sell them to the curt passerbys of their place.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly appreciated.
Surrounded by infastructure, and industry it stood out like a rose amongst the thorns and brought beauty and clarity back into the otherwise monotonous, morbid environment. It stood defiant and strong against the hungry, salivating greed of humanity - yet someday it was bound to succumb to our over-powering ambition for development.
Once I knew a place, a place that no longer exists.
In the blink of an eye that place was destroyed - uprooted and upheaveled.
Every tree, every shrub, every flower ripped out and now gone. No longer a haven but a grave yard where the dead lay scattered like fallen soldiers across the battlefield. Victims against the War of Industrialisation they fell prey to mans' heinous desires.
"Collateral damage" for a "brighter" future they say.
I say, who needs another vehicle retail outlet.
Once I knew a place, and I will never know that place again.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
Wish I was Meccanoman with
replaceable bolt on bits;
a pop off detachable arseole;
n grease ******* on my ****
yeah; wish I was Meccanoman
with a gearbox for a brain
n a cabriolet flip top hair do
-- as protection from the rain,
my feet could be two dustbin lids
held on by wire n rope;
maybe double up as landing skids;
- but no good on a slope.
the blood - of course;
synthetic oil;
with that I'd never get sick,
pumped 'round by the bestest
- induction coil,
powering my foot long
- hydraulic ****
Yeah; wish I was Meccanoman.
Oct 16, 2010
Oct 16, 2010 at 2:53 PM UTC
leisure up my friend !
weaken open your shellfish hinge
and wet your beak
it’s a marked holiday break
unmarred by family obligation
there’s freedom
to make the most criminal crown of mistakes
in the name
of some frown of liberal investigation
on the town
an eager squad of collaborators are on board
they have your back
desperate, sick and starving gulls
broadened to explore the deplorable
on and on to the next and the next
death defining task
a meandering stagger of a bar crawl
perpetually powering through
as the day spans a revulsion
the heat stays as the day sinks beneath
in place of the suns rays
the heat radiates
from the baked city concrete
stepping out from the shelter of the bar
the night swelter respires fiercely
not done with our steam of annihilation
what establishment would take our kind ?
city has already bowed over it's plumage
to our ******* pilgrimage
bark melts and peels in strips off the trees
(meat shaved off the strip pole)
our heels spark the pavement
vermin and jackals follow our movement
from shimmering dark spots
and our vision constricts
our aim has become clotted...
...what was it that we reached for ?
oblivions fruit seemed a doable pursuit
it's the usual downhill shambles from here
familiar yet barely remembered
a rambling guff of bad ***** comedy
there is no plucky legend
just an embarrassment
Jun 10, 2023
Jun 10, 2023 at 9:47 PM UTC
Am I really someone special?
Of course you are
How do you know
You're special to me
What does that mean?
You make my heart beat
You make my pulse pulse
Isn't that special
That's just adrenocorticotropic
**** we're more than just cortisol
Are we though? What makes us more?
You can think to ask that question
So what who can't
You make my epinephrine spike babe
Thanks, my endocrine glands are addicted to you
Don't worry about it, we're just sacks of meat
Hehe flesh bags coursing with chemicals
Right, your thoughts are just electricity
You're a battery, a light bulb and a RC car
You're a self guided drone with no master
You're sweet, lets go recharge
Powering down the fleshy prison
See you in day 9101 of my imprisonment
See you in the fourth dimension
You're right see you there first
You are special
You too
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 2:58 PM UTC
when the teacher asks me what elements are necessary to maintain human life i told him nitrogen, hydrogen, oxygen and you, not u as in uraniam but you like your heart beat is the only thing powering mine and i don’t know why you haven’t called yet and if all of this is true but hey wouldn’t it be crazy if you were lying awake thinking about me too
what the hell are you scared for?
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
The mystery deepens with slow steps
down the drive to that green mystery box
that holds the secrets of the universe within its grasp.
Besides the bills that need attention
invitations to church services
'fresh cuts' from butcher going down
products the clothing store discounts
power bills powering me up
water bills wetting me down
local rags headlining unknown street corners
filled with rage and graffiti
police searching for crims
(not on my street-No)
preachers discounting heaven for a tithe
car license rebirth
warrant remake
local school financial support
what else is new?
I've recently installed another box next
standing beside green box
flip all of the above next box
for recycling.
I only keep the one
which says in small print
No ******* collections on Labour Day.
Author Notes
Do you have the same problem and solution
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 5 months ago
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 4:45 PM UTC
Watching the media, all hyped
Due to their own accord
Pushing us forward
Helping us to goard
Upon the sins we so readily devour
All within this 11th hour
Hearing TV tell us to care
About all these material things
Never telling us quite how
To deal with the emptiness this brings
The greed it creates all but devours
Then jealousy soon flowers
Everyday our fascination grows
Within this world we live
And every day our lives compact
To where we cease to give
To those around us, that become devoured
We stand still, such the coward
Violence, agony, death and despair
Climb up the ranks
Feeding the greed and jealousy
Gee, Thanks!
Yet we are still fascinated, devouring
Their celebrities powering
All these empty thoughts we need to think
Which force our hearts to sink
We need to get back to what is to give
And remember what is like to live
As a community
© September 25, 2009 Deanna Repose
Repoosted from: blog.deannarepose.com
Sep 26, 2009
Sep 26, 2009 at 6:00 AM UTC
Powering whisker's tense, the unfurled orange;
teethed with nature's rosy armament.
Brother Tiger sniffs. burning nose
whispers of passion
with breaths of love.
More than two million years under human life
And she knows more than you, a white milliner
roses bloom
rose is a dove.
Brother Tiger gazes off into the East
Rose smiling, rose laughing,
Roses are searching for proud preys
Heaving breaths
dynamic, catlike stealth.
Heartbeat’s thunder
****** shadows hide.
She sends him a fairy-white rosebud:
“Hey Love, let’s off to search again for spring…"
"come home safe, Brother Tiger: Don't be feared"
Chant and roar along please
A kiss of desire on the lips.
Feb 24, 2022
Feb 24, 2022 at 2:35 AM UTC
I think I finally understand what people mean when they compare their love to a burning candle.
I thought I had already known years ago, but I could never have been more wrong.
You were talking about those butterflies you get when you're around me.
As we danced and swayed together that night, after you carried me out into the backyard to the perfect spot in the wet grass,
We held each other in subtle motion together, with arms drawn close around our bodies, as one.
And it was then, amid the misty nightfall, that you told me about those butterflies.
I smiled and delicately ran my hand across your chest, feeling your heart beat with such profound pace and purpose.
I swear, your heart was beating so powerfully that I could feel your thick pulse hurtling throughout your entire body.
We stood there, swaying, and that's when it hit me.
I probably get those butterflies too, when I'm with you.
But I get them more at the thought of you when we're apart.
And at first it worried me, because it felt as if my brain wasn't synchronized with what my heart was feeling.
I knew I loved you, but I didn't know how I loved you.
It's not as if I don't feel that excitement, or that rush of getting worked up over you, because I most certainly do.
But the main thing that I feel when I'm around you is this wholesome peace and calm atmosphere,
As if the Earth stopped spinning and time is slow.
You make me feel so utterly relaxed that I don't ever notice any other feeling when you're around.
The air feels thick and comforting, sweet and pure, as it surrounds me in everything that you are.
Nothing about this love I have feels rushed, out of control, or over-powering.
It feels like a slow burning of pure passion, delicately taking its time to pass on by.
Its slowness is not to be confused with "boring" or "dull", oh no.
It's something that is slow and careful, but so bright and powerful and...calm.
That night, it hit me, and that night, I knew
just how it was that I loved you.
I finally understand what they mean when they compare their love to a burning candle, and it's not what most think.
For a candle is not fast to burn, nor does it vary in how bright its flame flickers.
Once it has been lit, there's no stopping it, not for anything in the world.
Its steady candlelight glows with ease, with hues of a radiant spectrum of heat.
My love for you is beyond measure, beyond pace, far beyond description, and it feels as old as this dry August sun.
A candle, burning lazily, flickering in a vibrant display,
just as it will be tomorrow, and as it was yesterday.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 3:03 AM UTC
***I'm so glad you finally got it
you bring your own best friend
if not you'd be your own worst enemy***
*Hahaha true
I know you too
You meant to say*
'I have a friend in you'
*How many friends
Have you in there
who are they true
Oh yes, hahaha
some dyslexic me's
haha ***
funny right
cute tho too
You just imagine
being wrapped up
So often not knowing
who's who or where
One begins or
if another ends
so part the issue*
***I'm not sure Sa Sun
its hard to tell who's***
*Friend who's enemy
they all wear a smile*
Okay so well...
***Architect be
midwife see
Wooing enabling
one best outcome of
both mother and child...
Simply that to the finest
health and loving environment
of...
hearts, hands and arms
of the three***
*So who and or what is this child
therefore too the mother or bride
back to jesus and vedic speak
are we not with child already...*
***Is that kingdom
at our hands...
Is expected or not***
*Bridegroom considered
male spiritual energy of God in all creation
kind of dualistic temporarily and artificial
our own making for this while only
so the Bride is Manifest Creation
or here we consider first of as
primary too our existence
this earth first or mostly
thus mother is female*
***Afu and Ra with Ka
Ra as Bridegroom
male spiritual too
Ka powering Is..
Is forgiving all
that brings
us back
into
S C
I L R T
N U A I Y
G***
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 4:24 PM UTC
A warm sensation fills my body
my heart race with every touch
the softness of your voice soothes
my soul
as i lay there hoping the moment
will never end
calling out for you
praying that you never let me go
the sensation so strong
i can no longer feel my body
slowly i fade in and out or reality
in an instant the warm sensation
fades away
my heart empty
my soul torn apart
lying there, wondering wete i went
wrong
calling out for you, only to find
there is no answer
my mind invades with thoughts
so cruel and unrefined
the sensation of fear of whats to come
slowly the reality over powering
the lust and fantasy
leaving me empty
confused on how to think or feel
the loneliness i feel
so wretched and compelled.
betrayal to myself
revealing the terrors of my love.
Aug 29, 2012
Aug 29, 2012 at 12:00 PM UTC
I want to be a superhero. I want to shoot heats beams from my eyes like I shoot...spit, from my uh, mouth. I want to save people in the burning building. Lift girders with a finger and hope with my words. I'd give food to the poor and teach respect to the rich.
I want to show the kid on the ledge that the bully is the loser and not him. That he has a life to live and what an ******* says is just a bunch of **** And no matter how many times he jumps I'll pull him back on the ledge, show him that the hero he looks up to was just like him. Show him miracles happen and if he's lucky he'll become the hero in his eyes. Show him scars are scars and they're just out battle wounds, that even his hero gets hurt sometimes.
I want to be like Tony Stark. Have an ark reactor in my chest powering a suit of armor. Knowing that any second my heart will be torn apart. Be like the Hulk cause I have such anger inside that sometimes I want to turn green and break things.
I want to have the power of Thor, and show others that despite their expectations that deep down I have something they won't ever have: Compassion.
I want to be a superhero. Because despite my expectations I am a hero in someone else's eyes. In another world, place, dimension I am the hero I want to be. And I know that eventually I will be a hero. I may not have powers but I have enough hope that maybe one day: I will.
But this isn't the future. I am in the present. And right now I am not the hero. Maybe I'm the villain.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 8:40 AM UTC
sent forth on a path of destruction,
the prince of war is parading
through orange tides of
burning torches—
the funeral rites of
the dead king.
the engine of entropy spits out little
agents of chaos like bees from a hive.
they will sow
in time for the harvest
and when the sun rises to adorn
their naked, furry bodies
with golden dew,
they will shiver
in the remnants
of every dead star
before this one ends again.
a banshee from the ages
arrives as a missile of
determined suffering
set to detonate in close
proximity to the loose reins
of my forgotten destiny.
she wears a crown of roses
and embraces me with
her thorns
in the realm of Nature’s
loveless fawn—
a birthed, forgotten creature
gilded in silver linings
only to melt at
the feet of
God’s love.
I have cried rivers of tears
for people that have left
and all it does is drown
the land in a flood
of never memories
that keep me
isolated in stagnancy.
the wet magic in my
blood is vaporizing from
my fingertips now,
the crackle of split
lightning spins through
my skyless eyes.
abbreviated life spans
chunked into pieces
of lives I never wanted to
live, yet helped form
me.
I see violence in the periphery—
muted and out of
focus.
oil-spitting broken android
smashing through houses
looking for his heart
before powering
down.
“I am clipped,”
she whispers.
*“my wings don't lift me
anymore.
I am a trophy in a
cage.
I am atrophy in a
cage.
singing about the world
beyond these bars.
set me free—
I see the
window!
my flight feathers
will grow back
and I will leave you—
yes,
but I might return
and sing
to you about
that world beyond
the window.
I am not yours
to keep—
set me free!”*
she commanded my heart,
so I did—
I set her free.
and she flew away
into the world
and left me
with a parting gift—
an open window
and a devastating song of silence
that echoes in my ribcage forever.
Aug 24, 2025
Aug 24, 2025 at 9:49 AM UTC
The snow blanket the earth
but it would never covers the ocean
It became a curse of the sea
So, it stays on the beach
Like a dog on a leash
11
To hell with the night
It’s just darkness over- powering the daylight
When men are force to close their eyes
And dream of the events of the passing day.
111
Liars who called themselves lovers
Will never come clean
It’s a permanent tattoo
Concocted in their brain
The road to recovery for them is
Systematic and strategic process
For them it is a hunter’s game
1V
You have taken everything in one’s strides
The time sheets, the lunch hours
You have become the employer
Twelve hours prisoners of the time clocks
V
Last night I heard Nana voice
She said that I worry too much
And get little sleep
I smell hibiscus in my room
That old familiar fragrance scent still lingers
But her words became self-soothing
She said, let’s go to the kitchen
And make a banana bread
Worries is for the rich man
VI
The poor man display his graffiti on cities buildings
no admission, no fee
priceless art crimes or
the best of a simple criminal mind
High art or low art
Eyes of a rich man
Or the eyes of a fool
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 9:18 AM UTC
He said:
“In the dark night of my soul
I stayed with my darkness.
When a pain struck voice
Came to me, I did not chase
My demons away.
Thinking of all, the suffering I’ve endured
I walked through the street of my past
Solemnly, soberly,
Witnessing all my experiences again.
Before me, light reflected on the pavement –
Iridescent fragments joined to form
Pictures below my feet.
Stories from my childhood played
Like a movie on the ground,
I’m the star of my own show,
I’m powering through each scene
With such verocity I leave nothing
But ruins in my wake.
I reach to pick up the fragments
Of the life of a girl unhinged -
To think my own mind had led me to this.
I wipe the tears from my eyes,
Then, I pass on.
In the dark night of my soul
I stay with my darkness,
For it has so much to teach me
And I learn, so little, if I flee.
© Sia Jane
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 11:34 AM UTC
Deafening Roar
When you find your life surrounded by sheer Granite walls in front a waterfall crashes the cool mist
Affords a delightful respite on the brilliant pool seven feet above this table of water a rainbow of vivid
Colors forms arched particles of water premiered by over powering dazzled Sun rays the mind bows
Before uncommon glory experience what birds in flight feel but they can’t express it either then wonder
Triggers the other side of brooding the highest delights pass as soldiers in their finest attire they move in
A cloud covering of glory it is admixture of wisdom mysticism with a great weight of courage their faces
Imply the hard lives they live faith and trust refined in the caldron of sacrifice they have brushed granite
And it entered their psyche forever more tested and true their vesture dipped in blood never to break
Ranks with the fallen warrior brotherhood it is worldwide its rainbow is derived from nationality the
Nobility of a people is safe guarded daily by their knowledge of duty peace must be mined in far flung
Regions that are fraught with peril love of country drives them on tranquil shores first gleaming is
Derived from those that unflinching bare danger in the raw where evil does not show any pretense
Its plan is destroy then put in place near insanity then pronounce it good as the innocent are daily
Consumed but truth will not submit or die there is a strong hold that is made from pure granite justice
Cascades continuously from this pool freedom forms we drink deeply then with colors unknown to the
Dark evil we go forth and cure the land that has been made despicable by greed and cruel men that
Seek only good for themselves their bones are scattered around the globe as freedom marches on.
Jan 10, 2012
Jan 10, 2012 at 2:09 AM UTC
My companion pounces on dust,
Pounding the ground ahead of me,
Tracking our path.
This is euphoria,
And today I own it.
I grin at strangers,
passing through my land.
They think me strange.
The valley reclines, lazy in the sun.
I am these paths, these hills.
My friend leads the others from me,
My bodyguard. I am not threatened.
I keep on striding, vocals powering
Through me. I stray from my kingdom.
Too cocky, too confident I
Stray to the forbidden.
They no longer look to me. Now they swarm,
I cannot work out their source.
They stare and hate me.
You stand by my side,
Exhausted and loyal.
I am safe still.
Mar 5, 2010
Mar 5, 2010 at 6:06 AM UTC
My laptop reads 13%
And oddly enough I relate to that
It’s a staple of our generation to relate to others obscure references.
With agreements such as “same” being used to reference themselves to a cup lying on the side of the road.
I don’t quite understand and yet I find myself relating to these obscurities rather frequently.
I’m stuck.
Truly a dead end of the creative kind.
And sincerely it’s been literal months since I’ve created something I’m even mildly okay with.
Why? Is it because I’m depressed?
Is it because I am empty inside?
What can I find to blame my inactiveness on this time?
There are so many things I want to do.
I want to sing
I want to act
I want to fall in love
I want to make videos
I want to lose 30 pounds
I want to travel the world.
I want to come out to my family
I want to die but usually only at night, which is an improvement
I want be a lawyer, a doctor, a writer, a zoologist, an actor.
There are multitudes of things that I want, enough to fill up all of the oceans. Simultaneously
There is one that is noticeably more prominent than others and that is that
I want to be happy.
And yet here I am it’s 3 am and I’m nothing but empty
And even now, more than ever now, I need to have a voice.
I don’t want to be heard I need to be. But the words they just don’t come like they used to.
How am I supposed to pursue my dreams if I can’t even take a shower?
I’m falling. Again.
Life is messy. Life is a ******* **** show.
I’m trying to make the most of it. And honestly, it’s ******* difficult.
I want to write. I say that about every three hours and yet nothing.
More than anything, I want to live lives other than my own,
Not because of self-hatred but because of my desire to explore and to experience.
I want to fall in love with characters who help me to love myself.
I want to be more than a 16-year-old typing her life away hoping, praying to live other lives.
And just because I don’t know how to get there right now.
Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying.
I want to live for myself, I want to stop apologizing and go for what I want.
My laptop reads 2% and as it is powering off so am I.
I’m going to sleep in hopes of inspiration striking me while I’m floating between consciousness.
It’s unreasonable to ask for. But please.
I miss creating. I just want to live.
I just want to be happy.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 3:54 AM UTC