"propagates" poems
In your eyes shines universe in the shape of your face.
The stars whisper verses of unconditional love.
Light of the moon emanates with your heart.
Sun burns oath of immortality on my skin.
Planets dance to the music of our souls.
Even the black hole discovered the essence of love.
Stardust wraps our bodies and souls.
Meteorites juggle in space of desire to hit ecstasy of fated land.
Interstellar space is filled with love of devotion.
Electromagnetism guards intimacy of our bodies.
Gravity is jealous about force of our feelings.
Strong impact rising between us.
Space-time continuum is richer in our kisses.
All forms of matter and energy count light years of love head over heels.
Our love was born in the Big Bang's peculiarity,
existes since the dawn of time.
Atoms formed union of our beings.
Star agglomerated in galaxies of fascination and fulfillment.
Supernova of our passion is new kind of cosmic explosion.
The shock wave propagates even in the toes and feet.
We transformed in pure energy.
Expansion of our love accelerates.
Existence has become a paradise on earth, cosmic catharsis.
Love is bliss of *********** with you.
Drink a love potion to the bottom of romanticism.
You will raise where I am.
In you I found the multiverse.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 8:38 AM UTC
shallow creeper
blindly seeks
subterranean passage
horizontal
push and ******
fingered shoots
in compliant ground
purple sword
arcs skyward
a deception
yet to unfurl
gold to conceal
the tangle
underneath
perennation
in unfavorable
seasons
propagates
subversive
perpetual
regeneration
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 12:46 PM UTC
Phanerogams are plants which produce seeds.
The wanton harlot may be laid against the wall, with legs splayed, and may also have given birth to unbridled rage.
However, even though such stages of development can be entitled as “son of a ***** it is worth noting that all behaviour has meaning, my darkened companion of presumed sophistication.
The scholastic scribes will etch their wisdom upon the hardness of our vile vanity.
I hold in my hand a gothic stone, where those who stand before the courts accused of heresy and witchcraft can plead innocence before chanting crowds of bloodlust.
The reaper will gather the harvest at Lughnasadh, whilst the olfactory nerve propagates her funeral games amidst the cutting of ancient cornfields.
As we perch upon the gallows end, let us join hands and chant the mantras of old.
Photosynthesis is a forensic entrancement where there is no rest for the sinner.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC
In Autumn,
as in Spring,
the sap flows,
the sap wishes to race
against heartbeats
before the winter,
before the winter
buries us
in her usual shroud of ice.
I turn to you
knowing that
unrequited love
is good
for poetry,
knowing that pain
will nudge the muse
as well as anything,
knowing that you
are afraid, fettered
to a life
you do not love,
& so unfree
that freedom seems
more fearful even
than the familiar
business
of being
a grumbling slave.
I lived
that way
once,
& I know
that freedom
is its own reward,
that it propagates
itself
by means
of runners,
that nobody
gives it to you,
not even me
to you,
but that you
must seize it
with your own
two quaking hands
& pluck
the strawberry
it bears
in the green
ungrumbling
Spring.
2.8k
OOO!
He is worried!
Again!
the Mr. Perfectionist.
It’s almost Carnival but
He hasn't yet got a mask
with specifics
outlining
his ballads
and jests
he
surly lists his bests
in two principle steps
of CAPS :
1)
* Feeds the Bats and
* Tempts the Charms
2)
* Cheap N Handy
* Quixotic but Scary
* Not too Trendy
and he cries
Yuck!
EW!
Husky!
What's worse than
a self-adoring pathetic bat
in my whereabouts!
I can't get the stink and shrill so I help him fast
'Yo what's the worry!'
-I say friendly -
'you need not hurry
cause I think you already are ready!'
-I continue enthusiastically-
'Here! Try this one
My top design
Custom fit chemistry
A truly NO Risk Recipe
and of course
Specially designed for you! '
'for you for youuu
to echolocate
such is an eye-gaze
for the half-blind
such is sound
a vibration that propagates
in ears and brains of pretty gulls
and of course
only for youuu'
- I sing loud a common bat ad just to stimulate
my client and continue- merrily explaining my serviceable recipe
*for 2)
Wear your white shirt just
...as always
the one I know
you know?
the webbed one
weaving grace
and don't forget to
iron it well this time.
*
*for 1)
Put on your true face!
I reckon then
and can guarantee
...as always
no one will ever recognize you .
*
In a flight he disappears glad and I hope he won't show up till next year
What can you do I say to myself and quote a encyclopedic fact about my client.
All things have a place, you don't really need to like them but these ones pollinate flowers and disperse fruit seeds and they are economically important as they consume insect pests reducing need for pesticides.
I say while I ventilate my head with an OM mantra and an incense stick
Bah what a stink what a stink...
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:34 PM UTC
I wish to write
Something beautiful, Mom
She guided as follows,
If you want to define me
Get more time
Take a pen
A piece of paper
Think a while
Get touched
Write few words
On Love
Love, what
Propagates at your happiness
Absorbs when you are in pain
We are Mothers
And
We are beyond
Your words
But
You can have a try
All the best
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 11:17 PM UTC
"who brainwashed you?"
asks the man
who feeds himself
to the nation's most beloved narcissist,
casts himself down its gullet,
and takes a seat in its stomach
three times a week
who mindlessly
propagates the propaganda
he declares to be doctrine
he testifies like truth
who would deny
God's holocaust,
would gas truthful love
in his basement,
burn the bodies
and burn the ashes,
the free minded ****
who hates the situation
but does nothing to change it.
"oh, this used to be the land of the free!"
drunk on self-righteousness,
inebriated waste.
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 10:29 AM UTC
Everything is alive.
The spirit of life is endowed in every
Material and immaterial existence.
Life is an unstoppable force.
Life is contagious.
Life begets life and propagates
Ad infinitum.
Life is desire itself.
Every thing yearns to be alive
And every thing that is fading
Desperately reaches out for the suckle
Of that elusive, all-encompassing elixir.
Life is transient. It is delicate and strong.
It is a force itself which does not move Time
So much as imbue it with Meaning.
Life is tumultuous, unsteady, and capricious.
It wants to “go” in an atemporal sense.
It occupies the past, present, and future at once
But its movement is linear and certain.
It can splinter and halt.
Life is miraculous.
It implies the incomprehensible Divinity
Of Being. It is Absurd.
Life is defiant, stubborn, and strong-headed.
It can Be when no one is looking and in spite of
The skeptical spectator.
Every thing respires as one. Life is unity.
Life is paradox.
Life is
Jan 25, 2021
Jan 25, 2021 at 2:55 AM UTC
Broken down, discarded dreams,
Slipping through these splitting seams,
Seems to me these eyes can't see
A way to flee this one note scene.
Discordant dissonance of hate,
The fear and pain it propagates,
Weeping mothers, bleeding sons,
A war is waged that can't be won.
Another day, another shooting,
Another factory polluting
Drinking water, poisoned crops,
White collar crimes, when will they stop?
The future never looked so bleak,
Each suture we possess is meek.
But humankind will persevere,
And filter blackened waters clear.
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 9:16 AM UTC
in the words of
a reverend and a King
human salvation
lies in the hands
of the creatively
maladjusted
defamiliarize the chaos
an absent-minded apparatus
addling brain cells
checks and balances
proliferate a status quo
of enmity and aggression that
propagates oppression and
dismantles genuine political
expression for those outside
the whitewashed coffin
recognize the enemy
in our own eyes as we
eradicate the apathy that
leeches liberty and
fabricates freedom
reformist rhetoric is
too little too late
revolutions are cyclical
and ultimately infantile
so fan the flames of rebellion
destruction precedes creation
raise hell and raze the system
of enmity that pits
7.4 billion
brothers and sisters
against each other
anarchy is order
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 1:07 AM UTC
The way I speak
In the car in the morning, or under trees
Is swathed in darkness
My words build walls and facades
And cunning passages, contrived corridors
Deceit, whispered ambitions
I'm dispensing my secrets
But dispensing too soon, or too late
Into weak hands
Or disbelief or indifference
Or until their refusal to look me in the eyes propagates a fear
That no amount of courage on my part could ever dissipate
I'm covered in locks
Inside and out
But no one has the keys
And I am not beautiful enough
For anyone to bother trying
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 6:16 PM UTC
Life always finds a way
by Ahmad ***
The green permeates
Gives life
Mixture of life and spirit
Rolling into one
Life propagates even in the harshest conditions
Life just want to be free
No matter what you do
Life always find a way
Even when it feels like everything has been burnt away
The green glow of life still flows on
Even in situations where there seems like life shouldn't be
In some of the harshest environments
Life still finds a way
Even in the darkness
Far away from the light
Life persists
It's a lot harder to extinguish life
Then we might think
Just as soon as we think we have a handle
When we start to feel like we have control over life
Life has a way of putting us back in our place
Life was never meant to be controlled
Life is meant to just be
If we allow life to persist
To grow
To flourish
We will find that life will do just fine
If we just let it be
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
When the day squares off neatly:
No flex in the coating.
No chips or cracks,
Nothing to catch in my breath;
Why do I find myself here,
Where a smile grates?
When I connect to the grid:
Fumble through smalltalk,
Have a pint or two,
And learn my place (in that order);
Why do I find myself here,
Where the panic waits?
When Spring cuts the chill:
A simmering sun inhales the frost.
Fog retreats to regroup
As stoats skitter across busy back-roads.
Why do I find myself here,
Where pressure propagates?
Maybe my perception is warped.
It's sometimes warmer here,
(where a smile grates).
It's sometimes safer here,
(where the panic waits).
It's sometimes easier here,
(where pressure propagates).
Maybe I'll stay a while.
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 8:45 PM UTC
The Panther scales above the infirmity of the jungle
like a reverent vicar, in her mouth
she clutches an infant. To some this is
the most intoxicating world—so long as you don’t mind
a little ruse, how could there be a day in your whole life
that doesn’t consist of a flurry of happiness?
Below, game lopes abundantly as the ocean tributaries,
each frolicking along a distinctive course, not that
she ever really ruminates over them, or anything else.
The panther has never had to digest a fable,
though her existence propagates an analogous terror.
When predators raid her hearth, they remain
ephemeral, irrelevant – her insatiable hunger the only story
she has ever managed to revisit.
Your skin will never feel her eyes. I cannot say
she is wrong. Piously she prepares her supper,
with its meager, undeveloped vigor, erupting
a contented roar in the conversion of its properties.
She exists the product of her kind, the natural order her excuse
as she scales back above the inconsequence of the jungle
again, to do the same thing
(as I’d longed to do something, anything) perfectly.
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 6:58 PM UTC
*Sadness cannot withstand
A godly array
Of poetry
Called Love.*
© 2015 J.S.P.
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 7:40 PM UTC
Waking is like that final breath before the plunge
Down deeper into the thick of possibility
Where I find the Nietzchian mastery
That mentality that dominates and conquers
Leaving behind the pitiful
Weaker modes of being
That sharp edge of nihilism that propagates
The negation of substantial purpose
And living becomes a series of tasks that are manageable
Not the overbearing jumbled cluster **** of modern man
How I dream of Walden
That escape to find existential meaning
That reverts me back to an independent self that relies on not man but nature
To derive sustenance
Long for that shack
In the middle of no where where the worry of the day is to feed myself
And to stare at the stars
Instead of work long hours and still have no freedom to see
But it is not probable that I will have an escape
For the planet is dying one tree at a time
And the ignorance of our species is making
My exodus a place worse than the suburb
At least there I don't witness the choking of innocent creatures on pollution
Gasping for air through lungs riddled with fume
And foaming on plastic by product
While I contribute no animosity towards my mother I participate by association
And feed the monster it's favorite treat
That sickly green paper
And a snack of penny meat
While my exceedingly more mechanical mind cranks the cogs tighter
And starts to rhyme
Filling in the line space and paying my dues I become another body
Thus a weapon to the corporate move
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 2:37 PM UTC
The melanin which coats my skin so effortlessly
Propagates poetry, completely faultless
I am empowered and feared
Like an electric fence surrounding the perimeter
Of a jail house or asylum
Both on either side recognize me
As something without entry or exit
"You're cute for a black girl"
Is what they say to me -
Though my knees fastened in position
Standing tall
I am supposed to bend and bow,
To accept this "compliment" and condemn
Others before and after me
To accept is to limit the scope of beauty
Because I am
The exception;
Why?
I'm "cute for a black girl."
To all of the people
With an outlook on life
That only encompasses the width and length of a rabbit hole
I salute your stupidity and arrogance
Your firm belief in marching behind those
Truly one of a kind, 100% seen faux compliments
That I am not supposed to be offended by -
When we all know every offensive statement begin with "no offense,"
How about
You're cute for an *******
And
You're absolutely **** for an imbecile -
Who needs abs when you've got this?
Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 12:27 AM UTC
morality propagates.
if crumbs are on your hand, brush them off before someone sees.
tweet how you don't care.
wash your hands.
dry them with your shirt as you tweet how washing is overrated.
you barely touched anything.
crap luck--it's life.
how observant.
how in-attentionally blinding.
how to walk a mile in her shoes.
it's not good for the sole;
but it's good for the soul.
we are in his image.
be more like him.
draft an article with facts supporting his non-existence.
that was pretty heavy.
that pays rent.
prepare for ramifications.
don't have a smoke & a pancake.
the hand is only as deep as the middle finger is long.
at which point am I paid?
love can be a box in an evidence room.
she murdered me and I'm still dying.
still love.
at the end does he die trying to get the girl?
no.
he dies clearing his browsing history.
he dies deleting photos.
that doesn't mean we stop.
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 1:35 AM UTC
I feel a burden
But that's only a reminder of existence
More so, of purpose
But Meaning is overrated
Sometimes you can be so cynical
I'm here to let you know
That your lightness, although beautiful
Will only occur now
Right now
Legacy means pain
Life is suffering
So they say
So plunge deep
And let the salt water sting
Pull your head above the water
And in the struggle for breath
Feel your lungs fill salty
Inundate heavy
Self-infliction is the most righteous
Defense is polite
Submerged, nothing is heard
Composed, silence feels
Meditations distract
This lightness is nice
And your place not too weighty
You'll rise
Salt sits on the tongue
Reincarnation is beautiful
But propagates the lightest of all existences
No experimentation
Permanent, make a decision
With only one life to live,
We might as well have not lived at all
Forces of opposition
Feel a burden
Feel a burden to recur
What happens but once
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 2:41 AM UTC
I'm a unique creation,
The only precious one in the universe;
Stardust coalesced and quickened by mysterious Life;
A product of a billion generations on this celestial sphere;
A result of myriad mating rituals conducted by a thousand species,
Each contesting an evolutionary battle for survival;
Each coupling succeeding in its primal urge
To replicate the life-giving source and reproduce;
Knowing, instinctively, that eternal existence is a stepwise process;
Knowing, too, the diversity of individuals propagates the One.
And now, four and a half billion years after conception,
Gaia's offspring can contemplate her glorious existence,
While speculating - reflexively, lethally - about the Sire.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 3:39 PM UTC
For love to grow
an inner glow
propagates the seeds you sow
in deeds it then reveals
what has been concealed
a soul can't hide from truth
it lingers in the air
laying bare
all the wrongs
for all to stand and stare
as ashes turn to dust
the ambience of trust
dies in a single stroke
body gone
soul remains
and may choke
it's deeds it now doth weep
no time for it to sleep
nothing can be saved
even if we prayed
there is no inner glow
for love to grow
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 12:20 PM UTC
There is a time in man's life
When words will not come
When seas will not fill
When abstinence will not entertain
The sight of heart's desire
At a moment,
he will know ******
Was always in his heart
Should her be harmed
He will find all words
Have been taken from him
She, knowing, unknowing shall smile
And pass a brief hour or day
Not knowing, that time now
The tide has turned
Toward her, deep fault lines open
And the moon's course altered
By one degree
of love's meridian line
Closer............
Woman hear this,
and beware........
As a man is in love with you,
and love in all
As a thing in itself,
Does not love you, or he,
For that matter,
But only propagates itself
For it's own designs
Cold and lofty
To frail human hearts
Oft to your advantage
But often not........
So know, you cannot.......
Stop, what has been written
By love's desire
Once these moments come
And small white stones
And Atlantic hillsides
Will remember
in an Irish muteness
That the greatest of waves
oft occur.................
When no human stands
To see them crash, like cradle milk
Into the dark, black rock.
And Love is more powerful
as this
And more,
than the star is
to a penny candle
So let your words go
Let only time, as old
and deep, decide
For you are powerless,
as the gull
And grass in tufts
Pulled and pushed
By force no man or woman
Could ever control
That all is
as it should be
Whatever is to be.
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 1:43 PM UTC
An inquest that demands to be answered
a concealed suspicion that lingers on like a cancer.
Days after days it keeps on augmenting
the craving propagates,
although the elucidation is still suspended.
it could be alongside or could be distant
or still an object that craves to be existing,
the separation is crucial with the resolution being more brutal.
But then in the dark nights
its your demons that you gotta fight.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 11:45 AM UTC
it's funny how a person's scent continues to linger
even though they haven't been around for ages
or maybe worn that shirt you still keep
at the bottom of your wardrobe
it's sad that after all this time,
i still remember the way you smiled
every time you laugh,
your eyes crinkle up and your laughter propagates
filling the emptiness inside of me
maybe it's my fault
that i've invited you in
and allowed you to build a home for yourself
i can't let you go
but at the same time i can't wait
to kick you out
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC