"purist" poems
People just don't understand that my scars are part of what make me who I am,
I may have created them out of foolishness,
but they were debated over agony in the purist.
You may look at me differently because of them,
and of course I understand that,
they are not what make me pretty, nor friendly.
But they remind me that I am not always correct about everything.
They remind me that pain is real.
That I can feel whatever I want to feel in this insane world,
and even though I did make them myself,
I can remember the pain that was felt that in fact inspired them.
and now late at night when the silence creeps in,
I cannot sleep because I remember back then.
and the pain that you dealt may have been done in secret,
but either way you knew that I would hear it, and I will not say a word of hate towards you,
because we were small people in the middle of the sea.
And when I look down I have a constant reminder of that,
but I am stonger now, because of all the tears you caused me to cry.
I will stand taller now, because of your cruelties towards me.
I'll know not to cry next time.
Because in that situation it made things worse.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
Sittin’ on the beach, in Cancun
Suns overhead it, must be noon
Don’t really know ain't been to sleep
My souls on ice, I guess it’ll keep
My Costa’s are filtering out the sun
I seem to be suffering from too much fun
Only one cure, I need another drink
Maybe then my clouded brain can think
Summer time in old Mexico
Have a good time when we go
Drinking and smoking and having fun
Swimming and snorkeling, soaking up the sun
Bikini clad waitress, strolls the line
Cuba Libre please, don’t forget the lime
Swaying cheeks, a pleasure to see
Maybe later on, just her and me
I can’t wait, slowly follow to the bar
Panama hat and a Cuban Cigar
Strolling along, while I watch her sway
Can only imagine, if I had my way
Summer time in old Mexico
Have a good time when we go
Drinking and smoking and having fun
Swimming and snorkeling, soaking up the sun
Puffing smoke, we arrive at the bar
The bartender winks, I stuff a tip in her jar
Hands me my drink, I squeeze the lime
Having so much fun it’s bound to be a crime
Mexican girls and ******* tourists
Equal opportunity, hey! I’m no purist
Seeing the sights, and doing well
Summer beach, and I'm feeling swell
Yeah, summer beach, im'a feelin' swell
feelin' swell....
Aaaaaaarrrriiiiibaaaaa
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 10:52 PM UTC
walk with the wind,
against the water's current.
trudge towards your gutter.
***** others in blind hope,
hope to high godless heaven,
that you're mad enough to pass as a purist.
...---...
find your gutter, close the shutters,
hide until the heavy wind deadens.
let your safe haven cave in,
bask in the mindless clutter.
become a fallen angel in your own armageddon.
-
...---...
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 5:08 PM UTC
building purist æsthetic
proselytizing solar-powered heliolatry
commemorating historic concert
sensing dark forces
fokken lekker antwoord
pumping sensory overload
featuring high-tech dee-jay
admiring gelato micro-truck
laxing laying lazing
"doing something nasty"
continuing quality content
entering another cathedral
journeying without borders
"exactly one year
since visiting vatican"
appreciating full-time gigasphere
awaiting pyongyang performance
depicting unlikely crowdsurfer
foreseeing exponential improvements
furthering esoteric agenda
sensing profound incompatibility
data-mining people's infidelities
anticipating futuristic caffeine
perfecting invisible propaganda
researching mind-control techniques
polishing psycho-social weaponry
sensing social embargo
flourishing frantic fanfare
admiring longitudinal monument
parodying marketing slogans
cycling through österreich
eyeing dystopian disneyland
streaming crosswords extended-play
herding glass kittens
deleting idiosyncratic fragment
loremipsum-ing laconic loudmouth
receiving ultramodern telegram
eigo-ga wakarimasu ka?
guzzling duck-fat fries
encouraging panic selling
(juxtaposing past incarnations)
getting black-and-white privilege
renewing boutique account
relishing cinema poutine
re-entering hibernation mode
opening old windows
continuing zoo motif
absquatulating excessive excesses
nullifying originality claims
proliferating protean persona
disappearing sidewalk alphabet
shrugging opprobrious moments
enjoying vertical alignment
re-entering cyberpunk paradise
approaching island sun
soaring beyond monoliths
trivializing extraneous argy-bargy
decreasing character limits
dumping generic accounts
uglifying commit message
escaping into idiosyncracy
moonshining great lake
exuding idiosyncratic propaganda
living nineties' dreams
making occidental cuisine
envisioning idiocratic president
expropriating your time
ascending homely helix
singing fat lady
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
Some where he sits or gorily sleeps
The blank stare behind a rigid cut
Eyes of a seductive Mongoloid
Offering nothing for the poison of the sea
The arbitrary swirls of mechanical time pieces
Add heavy track to this an
already shady beat
all the While A reproduction of some Germanic doll
Shrinks smaller into the keyholes
of his frontal lobe
A pleasant amnesia of the purist kind
This anglo doll she is now just a capsized pin
Her black and white knee socks mold into a geosed canvas
Ready to be re-painted with all the emotions he has left
What if I told you I loved you?
By the stairs with the works of post-modern misunderstanding
But it will be just a whisper of shear for the racket builds upward
The spinning mechanics joined by the school busses stopping forever
Yes that statement of old is clearly devoid
Merrily a swallow’s anthem
An absurd tangent of malfeasance
Almost a monosyllabic destruction
Only some misshapen coke spoons remain
As well asthe hands of a man who is much safer out of bed
The saline was much too dodgy
And the sheets…..Well they were never clean
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 9:11 AM UTC
Stunning she called the morning to gather it was her reflection that made all luminous and she
Turned from side to side all quarters of sun and shade settled in precise conforming feature it
Had no deviation it had no desire but was content to be her blossoming statement where her
Hair softly flowed down the sides and back was illusion and reality colliding slipping into a soft
Dark unspoken richness that defied appropriate telling her forehead was the first mold God
Used to make the first Angel from this creation dreams were first formed they arose mist like in
The quietest indulgence of the mind the eye brows were the seeding place of richest
Placements on fine porcelain it would begin the guessing of wonder how can such creation be
The eyes were jewels not mined in any worlds that we know cheeks aglow from fires deep
Within jungles unexplored by man the nose pristine you have to venture forth to rarest tents
Where nomads set in the midst of tapestry where inlaid golden folds lay with purist
Silver and emerald cloth and distilled breathing of goddesses and gave them a fitting that
Staggered the thoughts of those who came to look on these sights her lips were desire
Encapsulated in pink the entering of layers rivaled one another one on the top and between
Teeth a mix of ivory and pearl to be exposed was to lose ones breath and cast away
Reason briefly the chin the master stroke the line flowing from the ear was the perfect order
Holding all in eye appealing perfection the neck was enthralling understated composure
Shoulders rounded joining the graceful arms that premiered as musical a ***** that completes
Everything into perfection curvaceous loveliness man proclaims his strength woman surpasses
Him through soft quiet femininity that even assures his success through these powers that rise
Not from pride but from gifts that is profound and indescribable not better than man but the
best of man resides in her heart of hearts
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC
Not the smile the way you pose for in front of the camera no the real you the one that God made when you were born. The completed developed one the one when you fall short of your true self you feel the disappointment acutely you can’t rush perfection you can’t avoid the struggles the test that draw you into introspection you must sculpt this living being go the wrong way take a short cut you bring on the tell tale signs of disfigurement to the untrained eye it can pass unnoticed sorry the soul has a mirror that bears little resemblance to the outer man you learned in school how environment social order can effect outer growth.
This is the hidden man of the heart why are you plagued with self doubt or self loathing or you feel like a world class phony you picked up the hammer and chisel but distraction or higher self interest caused you to rush away now you feel dismay friend the artist in you will not be satisfied with half measures shoddy work are you forgetting you will go to the still bathing light his royal personage will speak nothing you alone will pass the vote to condemn such failure I took the material that possessed endless possibilities of perfection and I through disrespect to my own higher good over a life time I measured and weighed values that cannot be trifled with would I give unreliable information to family and friends knowing it could harm or lead them to ruination no but to yourself you foolishly barter indescribable beauty for rot and waste even in song they have spoken He gave me beauty for ashes. Will you conquer bad habits and the lair in the natural mirror? Turn to the unblemished the true and only master who gives direction in the most dangerous and beguiling circumstances never wavering only the true picture does he draw from these unquestionable lines provide inspiration and heady waves of joy from satisfaction in knowing the progress is real it will stand the acid test you can be duplicated in others they will reverence your integrity as they see it growing in themselves. Finally unbound they secure the heights of rare and noble discovery pressing toward the high calling of resplendent glory. Take these golden reins they lead to streets of purist gold and to the heart to that only one who knows what you can truly be.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 12:24 AM UTC
Scornful Seed
On this stony shore I bleed for a lost people in highest need
Drowning in the access of privilege abused
From the awe of dawn till bathed sun set quietly we pollute
Our moral heritage decimated while we our conscience sear
A superior man of the bar trembles in anticipation of judgment
Enter the proud the brash untold misdeeds that scar the soul
Soon purist scrutiny all will detect guilt filled torment
What could have been? Serenity still as the moon
Old glory presides over a house newly divided
Space fixed ocean land coexist air tenderly the earth adorns
Nature abides souls of this republic were once to God undivided
Every pore and fiber of their being alive by his word
Assurance our spirit’s armor all enemies vanquished
Envied by the highest monarch individual men set to rule
This new pristine forest green cascading rivers splashed
Master piece of greatest design Puritans by hardship never mashed
With mighty voice and pen they confirmed liberty freedom self evident
Fairness and truth ruled by tempered mercy
Mob rule gave way to reason with in all it is resident
Our collected greatness could be viewed in one B.C. MR President
The price Concord Valley Forge Gettysburg to name a few
Our home land’s safest guard isn’t soldiers and armaments
Prayer the best weapon held by those who have heaven in view
Continued peace and restoration of prosperity is his to renew
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 3:45 PM UTC
Once a proud land of
of purist words
and poetry .
Now has become the land
where the trolls roam free .
They have caused
the Unicorns tears to flow .
Now they will die within the hour
didn't you know .
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 6:56 AM UTC
Not the smile the way you pose for in front of the camera no the real you the one that God made when you were born. The completed developed one the one when you fall short of your true self you feel the disappointment acutely you can’t rush perfection you can’t avoid the struggles the test that draw you into introspection you must sculpt this living being go the wrong way take a short cut you bring on the tell tale signs of disfigurement to the untrained eye it can pass unnoticed sorry the soul has a mirror that bears little resemblance to the outer man you learned in school how environment social order can effect outer growth.
This is the hidden man of the heart why are you plagued with self doubt or self loathing or you feel like a world class phony you picked up the hammer and chisel but distraction or higher self interest caused you to rush away now you feel dismay friend the artist in you will not be satisfied with half measures shoddy work are you forgetting you will go to the still bathing light his royal personage will speak nothing you alone will pass the vote to condemn such failure I took the material that possessed endless possibilities of perfection and I through disrespect to my own higher good over a life time I measured and weighed values that cannot be trifled with would I give unreliable information to family and friends knowing it could harm or lead them to ruination no but to yourself you foolishly barter indescribable beauty for rot and waste even in song they have spoken He gave me beauty for ashes. Will you conquer bad habits and the lair in the natural mirror? Turn to the unblemished the true and only master who gives direction in the most dangerous and beguiling circumstances never wavering only the true picture does he draw from these unquestionable lines provide inspiration and heady waves of joy from satisfaction in knowing the progress is real it will stand the acid test you can be duplicated in others they will reverence your integrity as they see it growing in themselves. Finally unbound they secure the heights of rare and noble discovery pressing toward the high calling of resplendent glory. Take these golden reins they lead to streets of purist gold and to the heart to that only one who knows what you can truly be.
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 4:29 PM UTC
I no longer believe in what I once knew
I no longer care
My eyes are open to the lies and the truth
while I am asleep I am aware
I fall asleep so easily
it's so easy to fall
So now I give it all away
from the beginning until the purist fate
There is nothing left to share
nothing at all
I would never sever a family tree
who would do such a terrible thing
I would never poison the food we eat
yet they took no shame in killing me
They burned my life and future down
now I stand over the devastation
As the dial of life keeps spinning
the world keeps turning
round and round
I no longer believe in what I once knew
this life is lost
I no longer seek the ugly truth
stop the world and push me off
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 4:15 AM UTC
Not the smile the way you pose for in front of the camera no the real you the one that God made when you were born. The completed developed one the one when you fall short of your true self you feel the disappointment acutely you can’t rush perfection you can’t avoid the struggles the test that draw you into introspection you must sculpt this living being go the wrong way take a short cut you bring on the tell tale signs of disfigurement to the untrained eye it can pass unnoticed sorry the soul has a mirror that bears little resemblance to the outer man you learned in school how environment social order can effect outer growth.
This is the hidden man of the heart why are you plagued with self doubt or self loathing or you feel like a world class phony you picked up the hammer and chisel but distraction or higher self interest caused you to rush away now you feel dismay friend the artist in you will not be satisfied with half measures shoddy work are you forgetting you will go to the still bathing light his royal personage will speak nothing you alone will pass the vote to condemn such failure I took the material that possessed endless possibilities of perfection and I through disrespect to my own higher good over a life time I measured and weighed values that cannot be trifled with would I give unreliable information to family and friends knowing it could harm or lead them to ruination no but to yourself you foolishly barter indescribable beauty for rot and waste even in song they have spoken He gave me beauty for ashes. Will you conquer bad habits and the lair in the natural mirror? Turn to the unblemished the true and only master who gives direction in the most dangerous and beguiling circumstances never wavering only the true picture does he draw from these unquestionable lines provide inspiration and heady waves of joy from satisfaction in knowing the progress is real it will stand the acid test you can be duplicated in others they will reverence your integrity as they see it growing in themselves. Finally unbound they secure the heights of rare and noble discovery pressing toward the high calling of resplendent glory. Take these golden reins they lead to streets of purist gold and to the heart to that only one who knows what you can truly be.
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 1:42 AM UTC
**An alien fruit
on a low hanging branch,
she swings invitingly
flaunting her color,
that pulled me near
what an adornment
you would be to my
meager fruit basket,
inebriating scent emanating
overpowers my senses.
Your design, I certainly smell
I hear the whisper,
the disclaimer to entice me
to your side, "I don't like him,
the keeper of my orchard,
he pretends he owns it
but does he know the truth?
it's different, fruits aren't
his passion, just a hoarder
he doesn't enjoy the ripe fruits,
and I am a **** fruit,
I see yearnings play hide and seek
in your eyes, aren't you the kind of guy,
I've been waiting to come this way,
take me, soon I'll forget him,
throw away your qualms
like fruit peels to the dumps"
I can't now discern,
what I now think,
no, I am no purist
who detests tartness,
I like the taste of vinegar,
this fruit offers so much,
this is a taste I relish,
but I am not game for this,
like to chase and hunt,
fruits from higher branches,
"wouldn't touch a carcass,
even if it promises much"**
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 6:00 AM UTC
Loneliness is consuming me
Solitude is the only road to salvation
For the purist
For the one who
Excruciates a life time
To die at ease
For the one who
Has an idea of happiness
evolving in a nest
Madness sheltered in order
Chaos ceased with institute
Love meant being apart
Freedom meant demerit of attitude
Free as a falcon
Flew to spread the wings
Not to reach a destination
Roamed to feel the wind
Not to discover a new dimension
Explored the darkest nights
Never let down by apprehension
I am a bad man with a good deed
I will burn in heaven
Feb 5, 2011
Feb 5, 2011 at 11:44 PM UTC
There is this boy I once knew
Foolish and young
He longed to be the class clown
Loud mouthed
His mother would tell him "think before you speak"
He would only apply it when he got something out of it
Like staying out after curfew
Un appreciative towards everything that mattered
A bit of an ego
Too many friends to count
He didn't like a challenge
Or work
Or any type of learning
His school results showed that
His heart was un breakable
With an exception to those couple of first loves
That were way too easy to obtain
He always knew
They were never going to last
Though they caused attempted suicides and self harm
A foolish lover
Innocent at heart
He would make sure no one would ever notice
He formed an unbreakable shell
It did him good for a while
Until it felt the touch of the most purist hand out there
It went boom and exploded right there and then
No one has found him since.
There is this boy I know
Well he isn't really a boy anymore
He has learnt from many mistakes
Slowly maturing
Over looking for attention, though he finds it nice sometimes
A quiet spoken introvert
Formed by something his mother use to tell him
He will never forget it
Appreciative towards everything that matters
He has learnt what means the most
No ego
He watches ego filled ***** and wonders how they always win
Wishes he had a bit of one
A few close friends to always count on
All he needs
Regrets his schooling life
Wishing he made better decisions
Though he wouldn't realize this until he grew up a bit
And everyone knew that was going to take time
A shattered and beaten heart
Though he found love in pills, a lot more than he would like to admit
A replacement that can't replace the real thing
Longing for the touch of something he once felt
He needs to be re built
You may see him wondering around
Waiting to be found.
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 5:44 PM UTC
Limbo
Black hole quasar pulsar star meridians oblique oracle messages from beyond the lost between the bureau of the forgotten
Dreams images disjointed some admirably projected on the screen of the mind they tell you a mystery where is the key
Like being in a library books everywhere any subject any topic whatever your taste or fancy but without retrieval how rotten
Space fascinates holds men enthralled the searching of the cosmos the whole of life it has consumed the overly curious
What I’m talking about is if you could take a meteor shower put it in a black velvet bag capture true magic hold for your disposal
Take droplets of rain speak to them and they would obey your voice become for one hour that which you desire most from life
Find the passage to the center of the mountain a gapping cave where a true oracle is beheld divine utterance her real espousal
You take knowledge long hidden disperse it among the most troubled and confused and aura breaks and arches those of need
Life’s dilemmas and contrasts these intangible twisted knotted fields of gloom you touch bows unknown understanding blooms
Course contrary buffeted by unpleasant wind oh to know how to rescind make rays of hope grow in resplendent rows
The common coal fired and pressured over millennia does purist light ignite the mind soul and heart in excitement it consumes
Striation found in the cold glacier this natural marking take from it learn the soul has divine grooves that only play spiritual tunes
This might sound farfetched but one day it will be the norm for Gods family the unexpected the unbelievable your daily life
Now we are in neutral or the drive is mostly in the natural like you build the best house then someone sticks up an eye sore
There is the contrast the conflict your spiritual house shines then your enemy self wrecks and devalues ruination rife
The spirit oracle revealed that the devil wants you as a trophy in a case how nice God wants you but he wants you as family
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 8:43 PM UTC
Her light can been seen
eternally, both near and far
free spirit, snow white queen
proudly bearing all her scars
Her words a salve and bandage
binding wounds and pain
never putting out as salvage
love and caring, her refrain
She doesn't have to say it
it's bound in every word of prose
heart as pure as any true commit
platinum is the angel, behind the purist rose
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
A picture of you
Not the smile the way you pose for in front of the camera no the real you the one that God made when you were born. The completed developed one the one when you fall short of your true self you feel the disappointment acutely you can’t rush perfection you can’t avoid the struggles the test that draw you into introspection you must sculpt this living being go the wrong way take a short cut you bring on the tell tale signs of disfigurement to the untrained eye it can pass unnoticed sorry the soul has a mirror that bears little resemblance to the outer man you learned in school how environment social order can effect outer growth.
This is the hidden man of the heart why are you plagued with self doubt or self loathing or you feel like a world class phony you picked up the hammer and chisel but distraction or higher self interest caused you to rush away now you feel dismay friend the artist in you will not be satisfied with half measures shoddy work are you forgetting you will go to the still bathing light his royal personage will speak nothing you alone will pass the vote to condemn such failure I took the material that possessed endless possibilities of perfection and I through disrespect to my own higher good over a life time I measured and weighed values that cannot be trifled with would I give unreliable information to family and friends knowing it could harm or lead them to ruination no but to yourself you foolishly barter indescribable beauty for rot and waste even in song they have spoken He gave me beauty for ashes. Will you conquer bad habits and the lair in the natural mirror? Turn to the unblemished the true and only master who gives direction in the most dangerous and beguiling circumstances never wavering only the true picture does he draw from these unquestionable lines provide inspiration and heady waves of joy from satisfaction in knowing the progress is real it will stand the acid test you can be duplicated in others they will reverence your integrity as they see it growing in themselves. Finally unbound they secure the heights of rare and noble discovery pressing toward the high calling of resplendent glory. Take these golden reins they lead to streets of purist gold and to the heart to that only one who knows what you can truly be.
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 1:37 PM UTC
Today, like almost every other day, I thought to myself, "maybe I'll write today"
And, though like every other time the thought passed through my mind I scoffed at it, I actually decided it might be worth it
I looked around, found paper in my favorite yellow folder, and was almost ready
Then I remembered one of the most important pieces, the pencil
The only way I'd get anything to come alive, instead of distracting myself and turning this almost poem into a paper airplane
Here's the irony my friend; I couldn't find one
I looked and looked for a while but just couldn't find one
Sure, I found pens, but I'm a pencil purist, or perhaps I don't have the courage to write in pen
Yet, for some unknown reason I became determined, and by a stroke of luck I found a pencil, hidden beneath a broken painting in the corner of the room
Eureka!, Aha!, and any other exclamation that may fit
I sat on the bed, got close to the papers, as always with my once typical writer's stance, clutched the instrument in my hand, and soon found the mechanical devil had no lead
Was the universe sending a sign?
I really thought so
I thought some greater force wanted me to just stop, really quit for good this time
Then I kind of realized something; What does the universe care if I write a bad poem or not?
No, it wouldn't
So I got up and looked again
And ya know what? It didn't take so long to find the second pencil, it was right where I found the first one
It had plenty of lead in it too, enough to write maybe ten more poems, good or bad
The eraser is wearing thin though, a reminder of my past mistakes
This isn't easy
There are tears on the paper
Like little oceans trying to get in the way
Like this poem is going to go down like the Titanic
But this poem isn't the Titanic
It wasn't thought to be beautiful and revolutionary when first created, I knew it would be mediocre at best
And if this poem goes crashing down it won't be a travesty, and millions won't be hurt
No, I'll just frown a bit
Also, I'm hoping this poem gets to where it needs to, unlike the Titanic
My hand is shaking as I write this nothingness down
The evidence is in my bad handwriting
And this page that was so crisp and clean before is wrinkled, smudged, and defaced
And a little damp
And do you know how I feel now that it's coming to a close?
A little better
I decided not to rip this one up
Aug 11, 2012
Aug 11, 2012 at 12:36 AM UTC
ABBY King& Queen of hearts
Royal eyes of bowed benevolence with passion and love two mortals stood on Scotland’s sovereign soil
And a portion of it they prayed and commanded by their souls would be held in esteem and forever it
Would be sacred and by many stones there arose a holy monolith so dedicated to God from the
Truest and purist heart that Scotland could provide as its Holy Father and mother with ruling powers
That rested in gifts and flowering of royal linage to bestow this towering principle from quarried stone
In all times in sunshine or clouds of pewter gray or the cool airy mist would all proclaim a faith that
Knows no bounds and is always a surety of this peoples love and respect for all that is Holy the inner
Sanctuary always open to rich and poor and it works it curative powers on the blighted soul whatever
Sins might torment but to stand in this great light from stained glass widow’s heights the small would
Feel enlarged the large and great would be made to feel there true size in this gaze of awe none are big
But they are the perfect size that sons and daughters make when they are on their knees in Holy prayer
None are as great as when they humble themselves and give ardent expression to their need of being
Made Holy no greater riches can be found in any country that outweighs a praying people and who
Show they seek guidance and mercy from its never ending source from He who sets upon A Holy throne
That puts all kingdoms in their proper place as they lift holy hands in praise
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 2:47 PM UTC
my ears are *****
my fingers are fucking( with the purist of intentions )
there is a bus in the lane next to me
as i come closer and closer
i notice the amsterdamn read lights
and i think to myself
(i wonder how much that bus driver would charge me for a ****
she looks old and faded
crusty crumbling eye lids
held up by small sticks
made from the bones of huming bird wings
fashoned together by tiny men
in the face of the man in the moon
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 6:22 AM UTC
As I shut my eyes and close the doors of this world,
I lay in my bed and like a caterpillar I curled,
Nestled between the soft clean white sheets,
Last thing I know I have feel asleep as I hear the rush of cars on the busy streets,
I suddenly escape and enter into a world never seen before,
A world of beauty delight, and the purist of scenery,
The skyline as it sets from a teal blue to a golden yellow,
The roaring vibrant orange fading into a pink,
I am sitting on logs, laying my head upon wood chips,
One hand behind my head as I fill my lungs with the fresh air,
The air I can breath in without the fear of pollutants,
Before my very eyes I see a rocket of shooting stars,
My eyes glitter seeing them as they pass,
I shout to my mates as they run to lay and watch with me as mesmerized as I,
Violently shook, was the instant ticket from that world,
Seeing the tasseled white sheets, my vision blurred,
And like that suddenly within an eyes blink,
Not for a moment was I to think,
I was back to the same crummy thing I call life.
This world right here is a strife.
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 9:55 PM UTC
Awash
The human spirit defined without a thread to cover their exposed heart loss the keenest revealer
Nobility crowns the vanquished they have been driven to the farthest bounds of reason
Emptiness has scoured the former land of all existence they stand on the pinnacle they have
Reached the zenith of life’s meaning by going to it unspeakable depths every speck of turgid
Normalcy so prized gives way to anticline these rarefied heights know not one profane molecule
Those lost flew to this point and beyond you followed and now you gaze after them your longing
Presents never before known opportunity into this vacuum rushes the budding of purist riches
Your life has lost their human presence but you now start the decent marked by sorrow,
Loneliness, but with these two painful strangers you have become the wealthiest of human kind
Love is the only container that could rightly hold their essence you are given this charge and on
These slopes you just turned from their departure and its glory indefinable crowned you burned
All impurities up and now the pure raging fire has subsided you see the incorruptible seeds you
are now to plant as sure footed as the Doll sheep go now intersperse them among these heights
that predate the dawning of time your fellow man waste away looking at the plains and empty
Horizon these seeds out of time and personnel loss will dazzle give the influx of immortal
Thoughts that will destroy a people’s delusional limited harvest and give them the spring board
Of freedom to achieve dreams that before were believed to be impossible this is what I saw in
Your tear filled eyes not an end but the birth of hope mother and father and the girls didn’t die in
Vain they are the truth shinning as a vision all we have to do is look
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 6:37 AM UTC
I’m not the best but you,
you never let me be in worst
I’m might be the last but you,
you are making me the first
I’m not that perfect, but you,
you see me perfect for you
we’re moving mountains
through the love we ever owned.
Together we can touch the skies,
together we can sail the oceans
together we can build our dreams
and together we can be as one,
it is because of these feelings
we both have inside our hearts,
so beautiful like butterflies,
like rainbows, like the moon tonight.
I could thank no one but the angel
who have brought you to my life ,
I could thank nothing but that moment
I first saw you with love that night;
I count the ways you made me smile,
and there are hundreds of them,
I will remove the pains of your yesterday
so we both could define our story today.
I love loving you each purist day,
and I would be able to take all the risks,
I promise I will take care of you,
need you, want you, till I lost my breath
sing a song even I’m out of tune,
dance the music you danced alone,
listen to your sweet songs of lullaby
until we both have gray hairs, we try to hide.
I Love You.
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 9:42 AM UTC