"principium" poems - Hello Poetry

I contempate, is this my fate? Nothing comes to mind. I've lost the light, fallen down, No hope here I'll find. No strength remains, in my heart, There's nothing I can do. For in the dark, I have lost, My will to sail this storm through. They spit on me, with their apathy, Why can't they understand? I'm all alone, far from home, Lonesome broken man. Inside of me, only misery, I'm done it's too late. I'm letting go, breaking off, Full of fear and hate. So take your world, take it all, It is lost to me. In the cold, my soul unfolds, This you'll never see. Broken thoughs, haunt my mind, There will be no rest, Is this the end?, surely not, Mors principium est.

0

Apr 15, 2013

Apr 15, 2013 at 6:34 AM UTC

dalton-burnett

Lost

I contempate, is this my fate? Nothing comes to mind. I've lost the light, fallen down, No hope here I'll find. No strength remains, in my heart, There's nothing I can do. For in the dark, I have lost, My will to sail this storm through. They spit on me, with their apathy, Why can't they understand? I'm all alone, far from home, Lonesome broken man. Inside of me, only misery, I'm done it's too late. I'm letting go, breaking off, Full of fear and hate. So take your world, take it all, It is lost to me. In the cold, my soul unfolds, This you'll never see. Broken thoughs, haunt my mind, There will be no rest, Is this the end?, surely not, Mors principium est.

24

I don't remember the part of my job application that said i'd be bored out of mind. I don't remember being asked to be born in a town where things to do were so hard to find. I don't remember telling anyone to make the fuel of my escape what can only be presumed to be unicorn blood. I don't remember exactly when i stopped being a stud. I don't remember when my bank account shrank. I don't remember when i started to care about what was in the bank. I don't remember what i wanted to forget. I don't remember if I'm lying to keep from getting too upset. I don't remember becoming this much of a cynic. I don't remember turning into the crotchety folks i used to mimic. I don't member what Dante said about Hell. I don't remember quotes too well. I don't remember getting this sad, mad. I don't remember when being this angsty became so bad. I don't remember so why then i can't stop?

0

Nov 21, 2014

Nov 21, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC

Jackie-Gee

In Via Ad Infernum, Quae Principium Habet in Paradiso

I don't remember the part of my job application that said i'd be bored out of mind. I don't remember being asked to be born in a town where things to do were so hard to find. I don't remember telling anyone to make the fuel of my escape what can only be presumed to be unicorn blood. I don't remember exactly when i stopped being a stud. I don't remember when my bank account shrank. I don't remember when i started to care about what was in the bank. I don't remember what i wanted to forget. I don't remember if I'm lying to keep from getting too upset. I don't remember becoming this much of a cynic. I don't remember turning into the crotchety folks i used to mimic. I don't member what Dante said about Hell. I don't remember quotes too well. I don't remember getting this sad, mad. I don't remember when being this angsty became so bad. I don't remember so why then i can't stop?

15

The fortress that which is your mind May find not such turmoil as harsh And instead might as well, rejoice The shackles which at present bind Or may be, but it shall doth budge The resolve of its castles strong And surely not, it shall not smudge Ordeal undertook by genial souls What may be, will have then begun Fear not, have faith on the virtuous Path; Think not, what if but of the Good, that has_ and in time you will Clearly see; mental tenacity will be Yours, decreed; Have just clear head Upon thy broadsword. Nothing else Will have; or will ever matter more !

0

May 2, 2020

May 2, 2020 at 9:30 AM UTC

zhavaed-haemaed

Principium: diá Uno

The fortress that which is your mind May find not such turmoil as harsh And instead might as well, rejoice The shackles which at present bind Or may be, but it shall doth budge The resolve of its castles strong And surely not, it shall not smudge Ordeal undertook by genial souls What may be, will have then begun Fear not, have faith on the virtuous Path; Think not, what if but of the Good, that has_ and in time you will Clearly see; mental tenacity will be Yours, decreed; Have just clear head Upon thy broadsword. Nothing else Will have; or will ever matter more !

16

"Les femmes jouissent d'abord par l'oreille" Dit Marguerite Duras Toi, mon HYDRE-MUSE, tu jouis Par l'oreille absolue et frivole Magnifiée Par la danse à contre-temps De la poésie pénétrante Du saxo et de la tumba Du coupé décalé et de l'azonto Entre violons et accordéons Qui fait voltiger sur tes hanches Toute la copelia complicada de ta libido. Je rentre sans hâte dans la mue de la couleuvre Et je te ceins la taille. Réinventons les croisés en cinquième position Du ballet classique de Noureev, Petipa et Balanchine Et à quatre pattes virevoltons dans le Bolchoi. Setenta y ocho : Je te tatoue le bas des reins D'un tatou boule qui exécute Des renversés arrière multicolores Dans les plus intimes sillons de ta peau. Cero : Verbum Sapientiae Principium Est ! De mon pinceau chatoyant je dessine Des pas de bourrée étourdissants Aux confins de tes cambrures Setenta y siete : Tu miaules des entrechats charnels Et tu tournoies comme un ventilateur Et tu me dis : viens, mon prince, Montre-moi tes ronds de jambes doubles Ochenta y quatro : je te prends par les orteils tout en te caressant l'oreille Et je te dis vas-y Cuarenta y cinco : Dombolo baroque dès que tu bouges tes fesses pour m'inviter à tes Messes de sabbat Très y media : Demi-pointe sur les tétons qui frémissent et qui clignent des yeux La peau de ton aréole gauche danse la biguine Ton sein droit fait voltiger du jus de grenade Sesenta : Un deux trois cinq six sept Un seul fouetté Tu enchaînes les figures libres et académiques Passe après passe Tu plantes dans le taureau farceur tes aromates Et je crie Banco et tu me mordilles la paume de la main. Setenta complicada : J'aime notre gourmandise choreographee clitoridienne, anale, phallique et vaginale Cet appétit colossal de ballet épicé à la Merce Cunningham, Alvin Ailey et Martha Graham Qui nous prend entre deux morts de tous nos lacs des cygnes primaux Nous en sommes les danseurs étoiles les solistes les premiers danseurs les petits rats les chorégraphes et les maîtres de ballet À nous deux nous formons une troupe Réincarnée Et nous signons de nos plumes de chair notre martingale lubrique : Un deux trois... Cinq six sept Un deux trois... Cinq six sept Un deux trois... Cinq six sept

0

Nov 1, 2019

Nov 1, 2019 at 3:31 AM UTC

cyclone-wolfok-baltimore

Un deux trois ... Cinq six sept

"Les femmes jouissent d'abord par l'oreille" Dit Marguerite Duras Toi, mon HYDRE-MUSE, tu jouis Par l'oreille absolue et frivole Magnifiée Par la danse à contre-temps De la poésie pénétrante Du saxo et de la tumba Du coupé décalé et de l'azonto Entre violons et accordéons Qui fait voltiger sur tes hanches Toute la copelia complicada de ta libido. Je rentre sans hâte dans la mue de la couleuvre Et je te ceins la taille. Réinventons les croisés en cinquième position Du ballet classique de Noureev, Petipa et Balanchine Et à quatre pattes virevoltons dans le Bolchoi. Setenta y ocho : Je te tatoue le bas des reins D'un tatou boule qui exécute Des renversés arrière multicolores Dans les plus intimes sillons de ta peau. Cero : Verbum Sapientiae Principium Est ! De mon pinceau chatoyant je dessine Des pas de bourrée étourdissants Aux confins de tes cambrures Setenta y siete : Tu miaules des entrechats charnels Et tu tournoies comme un ventilateur Et tu me dis : viens, mon prince, Montre-moi tes ronds de jambes doubles Ochenta y quatro : je te prends par les orteils tout en te caressant l'oreille Et je te dis vas-y Cuarenta y cinco : Dombolo baroque dès que tu bouges tes fesses pour m'inviter à tes Messes de sabbat Très y media : Demi-pointe sur les tétons qui frémissent et qui clignent des yeux La peau de ton aréole gauche danse la biguine Ton sein droit fait voltiger du jus de grenade Sesenta : Un deux trois cinq six sept Un seul fouetté Tu enchaînes les figures libres et académiques Passe après passe Tu plantes dans le taureau farceur tes aromates Et je crie Banco et tu me mordilles la paume de la main. Setenta complicada : J'aime notre gourmandise choreographee clitoridienne, anale, phallique et vaginale Cet appétit colossal de ballet épicé à la Merce Cunningham, Alvin Ailey et Martha Graham Qui nous prend entre deux morts de tous nos lacs des cygnes primaux Nous en sommes les danseurs étoiles les solistes les premiers danseurs les petits rats les chorégraphes et les maîtres de ballet À nous deux nous formons une troupe Réincarnée Et nous signons de nos plumes de chair notre martingale lubrique : Un deux trois... Cinq six sept Un deux trois... Cinq six sept Un deux trois... Cinq six sept

59

Only in the darkest of times, does the light shine most bright. Only upon heathen lands, do flowers bloom most pretty .. For if it was not for the dark, we would not have known light_ and if we were not witness to such droughts, would we ever sing rain songs ? A tree blossoms in spring, because it had withered away, in its winter. The water from the rain skies flow as answer to those repugnant summers. As you grow older, so you see the beauty in pain .. and as it makes you wiser, you do not see anything, ever the same.. Life is not distasteful, if you have a wider eye .. be observant, my child, be marvelously alive .. And this and nothing else, would have been thy calling, and this and nothing else would be meaning to your being !

0

May 4, 2020

May 4, 2020 at 12:34 PM UTC

zhavaed-haemaed

Principium: día tres

Only in the darkest of times, does the light shine most bright. Only upon heathen lands, do flowers bloom most pretty .. For if it was not for the dark, we would not have known light_ and if we were not witness to such droughts, would we ever sing rain songs ? A tree blossoms in spring, because it had withered away, in its winter. The water from the rain skies flow as answer to those repugnant summers. As you grow older, so you see the beauty in pain .. and as it makes you wiser, you do not see anything, ever the same.. Life is not distasteful, if you have a wider eye .. be observant, my child, be marvelously alive .. And this and nothing else, would have been thy calling, and this and nothing else would be meaning to your being !

8