Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"preoccupies" poems
A deadly combination Of lust, of passion, of love. Deadly, poisonous, treacherous. Worst of all, stupidly contagious. Compassion for another because of another can’t exist, suffocated by gyrating passion. Passion serves one, not both… Selfish, passion encircles the one consumed, feeding the addiction. Addicts chase the high because for a little while the world is as it should be In the eyes of the beholder. Love sighs as the well runs dry. Throw down the bucket as you may, the water will not appear. Acceptance is the hardest thing. Giving up? Not at all. Only people with nothing to gain can Give up. Accepting, letting go, moving forward. The steps of progress in self-realization. Leave behind the fire of love that consumes the heart and ravages the mind, preoccupies the body. Chase that fire which refines. I await to wake from this comatose state.
0
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 3:06 AM UTC
Witchcraft
My desk is scattered with notes, drafts, prototypes, of my love letters to the world. Ugly, thin spider-scrawls of hieroglyphic ink, pleading for my future self to flesh the bone, of the skeleton in my thoughts. Beside them, the trusted red wine to chase down the pressures of the world, hold them in line. Each sip, a godsend, each bottle a promise that love will never end. The simple pleasure of a desk; a confounding beauty, the collage to your life and all that preoccupies you. Your personality is laid before you; each picture, beer bottle, notebook, a fragment of yourself. My desk is scattered in the loves, hates and frustrations of my place within this world. Ugly, thin spider-scrawls of unintelligible ink, pleading for some higher power to flesh the bone, of the skeleton that is myself.
0
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
My Desk
Why do I choose darkness over light? Is it that my brain is wired like that? Is there actually so called darkness as my mind serves. why is that my thoughts preoccupies over my mind and heart. I see, hear nothing but a cry. I have forgotten what happiness is as the days passes by, And I'm entangled with my thoughts deserted not to be seen or heard. At the end I isolate myself so that no one finds me! Its enough for now, me and my thoughts please choose different pathways Its hard for me to be like that crying out for help but in silence!
0
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 4:23 AM UTC
The mystery of me
You say you like me But I see you falling for her You say I make you smile For she can make you happy I can make your day She can make your life You say I'm great We both know she's way better You say I can make you better But she can change you You say I'm the newest chapter in your life Her, she's the **** whole book You say I'm no nightmare to you But she's your dream girl You say you think about me sometimes But I know she preoccupies your thoughts all the time You keep saying I'm the one But really she's your only one
0
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 10:49 PM UTC
he said
Grip tightens. Loss of appetite, For food, for fun, for mischief All but for self loathing. Something so simple , Made so awkward. More than just trivial, All so hard. I could be so happy, Elated, Infectious in fact. Instead questioning so much Too much Appointment? Yae of Nae? Arranged or by chance? If chance does arrive.... Take it? Or be it gone like the wind; Never seen but felt by all. I know it It preoccupies both our minds I know it But self doubt is unrelenting Questioning, always questioning All too noticeable. All too late. I know.
0
Apr 30, 2010
Apr 30, 2010 at 10:04 AM UTC
I Know?
That look in your eye preoccupies my mind Do you even know how raw you are? Staring at me behind that lightening How has it come this far? Your hips are glowing My heart is moaning Nothing about this is real.
0
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 4:35 AM UTC
flow
Trump continues his ongoing tirade With baseless claims of voter fraud. The more he rants and raves the more We can all see through his façade. He's what you call a "poor winner." How easy it is to get his goat! He just cannot stand the thought That Clinton won the popular vote. Demonizing the media therefore Preoccupies Trump and his team. Dumbing down the American public Will be for them a constant theme. The claims of voter fraud are only An excuse to suppress voting rights-- An issue which must be added to Our growing list of ongoing fights. If we are not vigilant, If instead we turn a blind eye To what is really happening here, Kiss democracy good-by. - by Bob B (11-29-16)
0
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 11:51 AM UTC
A Poor Winner
It is within my bitter blood to love at a foolish capacity. How do you tell your heart to stop, when it comes so naturally? The passionate feeling of adoration that skips through my veins, Preoccupies my mind and at times, makes me feel unsettlingly insane. Its a scary realm when emotions are hastily displaced. Its a clever hell that warps and compromises your steady grace. Being swallowed up by your own mind is a common affair. If your feet won't keep, passion will painfully lead to despair. It takes looking though transparent glass to see what needs to be seen. It takes a mind to be free to envision what needs to be freed. An enchanting charm is always a attractive feature, but will time hold fast when you finally meet her? Shallowly embedded in me is a deep cry for understanding. Drowning myself in a feeling that will surely sink me. Buts its my own blood that is satisfying this internal confusion. I can't escape it but to drain it, perhaps I need a blood transfusion.
0
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 10:34 AM UTC
Bitter Blood Transfusion
I wrote you letters, Knowing you would never read them – But at least it made me feel close to you, If only for a little while. A sliver of hope preoccupies me, telling me that maybe someday you will read them… Maybe someday you’ll find your way back to me. Maybe you and I really were meant to be. I don’t think about you as much anymore -- But I still think about you. Maybe my heart is finally learning that it can’t break itself Over and over As it realizes that you weren’t meant to be mine. I thought you were… God seemed to send me so many signs. Did I make them all up? Did I want you so badly that I believed every little thing was a leading me to you? It couldn't have been all in my head. You felt it too, right? We shared our darkest secrets, All the little details, You seemed to understand me in the way I have craved to be understood. Did I make that all up? And we were always happy. You made me smile like I never have – Everyday. Did I not make you feel that way? Was this all in my head? Did I break my own heart with the mere idea of you? But, oh, I still love the idea of you --   And me. I can’t escape this. No matter how hard I try, I always end up back here; Clinging to you. Maybe one day I’ll forget. You’ll go from a daily thought, To a monthly one. I’ll lose the idea of you, Until I only remember you when a certain song comes on, Or I remember a joke you told me. The idea of losing you seems impossible – every little thing seems to point me back to you. (a.g.)
0
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 2:12 PM UTC
Heading East
I wrote you letters, Knowing you would never read them – But at least it made me feel close to you, If only for a little while. A sliver of hope preoccupies me, telling me that maybe someday you will read them… Maybe someday you’ll find your way back to me. Maybe you and I really were meant to be. I don’t think about you as much anymore -- But I still think about you. Maybe my heart is finally learning that it can’t break itself Over and over As it realizes that you weren’t meant to be mine. I thought you were… God seemed to send me so many signs. Did I make them all up? Did I want you so badly that I believed every little thing was a leading me to you? It couldn't have been all in my head. You felt it too, right? We shared our darkest secrets, All the little details, You seemed to understand me in the way I have craved to be understood. Did I make that all up? And we were always happy. You made me smile like I never have – Everyday. Did I not make you feel that way? Was this all in my head? Did I break my own heart with the mere idea of you? But, oh, I still love the idea of you --   And me. I can’t escape this. No matter how hard I try, I always end up back here; Clinging to you. Maybe one day I’ll forget. You’ll go from a daily thought, To a monthly one. I’ll lose the idea of you, Until I only remember you when a certain song comes on, Or I remember a joke you told me. The idea of losing you seems impossible – every little thing seems to point me back to you. (a.g.)
Continue reading...
44