"rampantly" poems
Anonymous camaraderie,
New friends pour from cyberspace.
Tweets flutter rampantly,
In this most ambiguous place.
Strangers in passing,
Or is it kismet?
Can’t you tell what I am saying?
Innuendo among keystrokes.
And you thought I was playing.
LOL
My world is all digital,
Evocatively simple,
Demanding your principle,
Ingrained as symbol,
All in code.
1/6/2016
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC
Reaching out for what delivers its existence
The thirsty tree extends its limbs further to the sun
An encounter craved, but still valuing its bestowment
Forever longing anxiously for that connection
The summer winds carrying this hopeful firefly
Emitting the lonely light that calls out for another
Releasing these signals in hopes of discovering you
Again a flicker and finally the mate is matched
Sprinting to the sea, the relentless river runs
Passionately carving its way through the slighted landscape
Obviously enraptured by its desirous charge
Awaiting the second its frenzied rush reaches home
Like the sun now churning our eager energy
Overthrowing senses with this rampantly raging need
Overwhelming magnetism lures us toward temptation
Inescapably mesmerized by this sensation
Profound in nature, driven by this timeless dance
Sophisticatedly conjoining into fulfillment
A base for these unbridled electrical impulses
The quintessence of our fusion now realized
We are the union of two wandering forces
Ignition progresses affectionate meditations
Quietly absorbing the synthesizing of segments
Once unrelated, now entangled eternally
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 2:17 PM UTC
"You were born to do this."
I reminded myself as I sat there feeling encaged in a flurry of endless thought and emotion.
"Why do I have to feel every aspect of every event of life, so deep?"
I thought as I fought myself once again to simply pick up the pen and drain the overflow of despondency onto paper.
"Breathe."
The words, letters, verbs and thoughts continued to swirl in my ever rampantly unsettled abyss of ideation.
Once I surrendered to the raging of the erupting of the soul..there was calm.
It's likened to the deaf..taken away their ability to sign..The dancer with both feet removed.
Had I no other pleasure but to expel grief, fervor and elation and form them into words to heal the shattering so entrenched..they appear unreachable..I'd beg to be buried with just a writing utensil and endless reams of freshly pressed paper.
"Theres Light."
I mouth that..as I continue to jot as if I were stitching my heart back together with this pen.
Even though I'm within this seemingly grave like cave of aching..I can write.
The beauty is in the creation..The ability to construct, like a carpenter..all that your heart desires with your own two hands..to simply Heal the paragraphs of life that were written badly, write over them or erase and rewrite..if only it were that easy.
I don't aim to undo..I cannot.
Just to poetically fabricate from this point on..allow the stumbles to happen and Love greater than thought fathomable.
Surrender. To the page.
Scribble it out, empty it onto line after line..and crawl atop..until the words fill the fragments and the ink stains your fingertips..Keep climbing upon the proverbial stacks of paper until the towers reach the aperture of the pit.
Creating the mending of affliction, soothing the misery of the choking of words you cannot utter, but you can scratch them onto tablets to deplete the churning of the mind.
Write. Write badly.
Write as if in a mad race to the finish line, then start over again..Until the trails of Letters stretch so long..you could dance upon them for days.
Then Breathe.
Soak every word into your skin as if attempting to heal the afflictions..
then Become it.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 5:24 PM UTC
FLAMES from furious friends fighting ferocious fears, forever forging faithful fellowship.
INCESSANTLY incinerating iniquity in inner-selves. Ineffably influencing introspective introverts.
RISING rapidly.
radically rupturing rectitude rampantly, ravaging rancour.
ENDLESSLY eclipsing earthly ecstacy.
Eliciting elation.
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
Face like a road map. Pock marks like valleys and the little blue vein by your nose like a river rampantly running down through the mountain of your defined cheek bone. Face like a night sky. Freckles like one million diamonds flecked across a porcelain night sky. Two crystal clear blue eyes like full moons reflecting on an untouched lake in the middle of July. Face like a razor blade. The edges of your jaw line so straight and sharp and defined they cut through the flesh with the pointed tip of your chin. Cutting the pads of women's fingers as they trace the delicate lines leaving faint pink traces of their D-N-A. Face like a Brillo pad. Face like a baby bear cub. Fuzzy and innocent in its nature to be nurtured in the way of the world. Like the framed moment of a woolly caterpillar being cradled by a toddler in the backyard on a fall afternoon in a pile of leaves freshly raked. Face like an anatomically correct hear. That ruptures and burst with each glance at beauty only to reanimate itself for the very idea of said beauty being some sort of purity. Some sort of saving grace. Re-iginiting in crater of eye sockets like coals that become diamonds under the pressure to cry. Face. Face like hands that hold mine firmly. Face. Like. F-A-C-E. Face like my person.
*Prompt from poem by Dorianne Laux
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 2:49 PM UTC
I can’t change right now
because I don’t have any energy to focus on changing.
I am standing at the bottom of a deep trench. It is my trench because I dug this dark & dingy trough that I spend each night in. And I cannot focus on change right now because it takes every scrap of energy residing inside of me just to stay alive. And I am working so hard to shove the dirtiness and shame deep down inside of my blackened soul. DT is right (he usually is, even though angry girl has a hard time accepting what DT says as the truth…eventually it sinks in…when logical/rational Nita comes around and has a chance to absorb it.
After everything I’ve supposedly “survived” – its ****** me off that this part, this “healing & acceptance” of myself is by far the hardest part, by far. (I did NOT say forgiveness - that will never, ever happen – and DT supports my decision on this). Enduring my father’s abuse when I was a child is not nearly as unbearable or traumatizing as reliving it is now. It scared me then, confused me, and hurt me…I didn’t like it. it hurt…but I didn’t comprehend what he was doing, I had no idea what I was losing…my innocence, my trust, all of the things that affect me now. I was a confused little girl who always wondered if this was normal behavior, if it happened in all families. I was an anxious teenager, struggling to be perfect, a chameleon, changing to fit the mold of what everyone else wanted from me.
Now I’m a grown woman who knows about the dangers of abusing alcohol and prescription anti-anxiety medications, I know the risks of the nightly rituals of SI that we engage in and yet I cannot stop myself from continuing to use these “maladaptive” methods to cope (and I use that term loosely). I want so badly to erase it all. I know my nightly behavior is harmful but I am not able to change that right now, I do not have the energy, every bit of it goes into just getting through the day…
minute by minute.
I tried so hard this past week – to let it all go, to push it down and act like a normal human being, but some nights I feel beaten down, crushed by the feelings and thoughts and memories that are running rampantly through my mind like a drove of cattle, crushing everything in their path. I cannot control them…as DT says, it’s like trying to herd cats.
I am not armed to face the girl I am supposed to accept.
And this stupid worthless body is aching and it won’t stop.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
I sleep.
Inside my mind, there is a wild world, while on the outside, everything is dark mean and slowly fading to the deep of the self absorbed.
Each and every corner of my imagination blooms with a vivid vision of tomorrow.
The breath of each day moves in and out slowly while the vision of tomorrow slowly becomes my today.
I sleep.
I don’t believe in suicide, but sleep is temporary. I don’t believe that love is blind unless you dull your eyes to the beauty that lasts inside. It dwells forever. It penetrates the hearts of those who open their eyes. They see the beauty through the ugly and through the hate.
My mind is not just a dull place I go to. It is a whole world that is still yet unexplored even to me who possesses it. My mind is equivalent to the deepest parts of the ocean. I know its there, I just need to summon up the imagination to explore it.
I sleep.
This is not a poem. Rather, this is a letter from my mind to your hands.
I need to write down my thoughts. I cried. I think that I cry because there is no hope for me in this barren part of the country. I cry for freedom from myself and from the world. The negativity is a shackle that binds me to home. The secrets that I keep hold me back. I just want to float through life. I want to float through life like a speck of pollen. It is small, but it goes on a great adventure, and eventually brings life to the object needing it the most.
My mind is my only escape. I look forward to sleeping, so that I can travel to a new world that has yet to be explored. I don’t know how to describe the strongest longings of my heart on a page. I guess it’s almost like how a mother feels when she learns that there is a new soul that grows in her. I have so many dreams for myself. I just don’t know how to make them my reality. Some one told me once that dreams come true, but they didn’t say that nightmares did as well. I think that just being stuck here in this quaint drug infested, alcohol infected, *** addicted, littering, molesting town is my nightmare. The town taunts me with my thoughts and dreams. It whispers to me every night when I dream that I cannot escape. Its like a melody wanting to play freely and rampantly from the page that its written on. The world ways down my love. I think that with out my dreams, I would just deteriorate. Disintegrate. Fall in to the trap. Become part of the sands of time. My worst nightmare.
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 1:53 PM UTC
The sun is shimmering on the trees
as the wind whispers through the remaining leaves
The limbs wave back and forth
as if saying good-bye to a summer soon forgotten
The leaves hold on by a stem
until it breaks away and they flutter around in the air
Looking like large raindrops falling to the ground
where they tumble rampantly across the field
As if a puppy let outside to play
the leaves then lay still for a moment
Until the breeze catches them again
seemingly in a never ending game of tag
If you hurry, you can rake them in a pile
jumping, screaming in glee as you land in them
Or just stand still with your face to the sky
watching as they flip flop in the wafting air
In a kaleidoscope of red, oranges, and yellows
As you revel in the beauty of Autumn
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
Our brave new world has turned remarkably cold
There is no place for inefficiency among the looming towers
Religions have been replaced with the worship of screens
Charms have been supplanted by tungsten and lithium
One by one, metropolises fell to “necessary” modernization
I consider a certain member of these abaddons as my unfortunate home
The city’s structures stand like monoliths, without luster or familiar name
A place surely dredged from the deepest hell of mankind’s achievements
Mechanical arachnids skitter across streets on continuous patrol
their silver claws and whirring sensors passively click and scan
We’ve no longer needed any member of sentient life to protect us
Apparently, that was a task more suited for our heartless creations
Any soul residing in the world has become artificial
emotions, dreams, and identities discarded and digitized
Former humans are now composed of more metal than meat
They tread with measured steps and a uniform lack of expression
I breathe the heavy clots of air through my visor and flip a few pages
Long ago, this ancient relic came to my unsuspecting attention
It held secrets of organisms that ran rampantly among landscapes
Old Terra’s fertility sprang out from yellowed paper
There is one creature that I found especially endearing
It endured the harshest of the world's conditions, as I do in mine
It was the deadliest of its kind, as I am among peers
I bestowed my home with the creature’s striking moniker
Now and forever, I live in the city of Taipan
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 8:50 PM UTC
Wasteful wallowing in a crumbling hollow dwelling
Obfuscating the obvious problems, scared from telling
A distracted dubious damnation,
I have craved temptation into
cramped every solitary sensation
and turned them to them sins, too.
So I fantasise, and rampantly
Agonise the logic in my mind
I dream of worlds without proportion
and engagements of moral absorption.
Til' I saturate my soul with images
of endless time and space.
In a stale solitary dimension
I weave tales of honorary mention
but forget their ascensions.
Broken wishes of impossible ambitions
With uncultural and isolated renditions
Of self-indulgent ordeals.
Brought upon by uncontrollable feels
and reeled beyond sense into the light
where my mind cannot be healed.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 3:00 PM UTC
Today I saw two brothers of the raven--
I wonder if it's a comment on our plight.
One sat despondent and reeked of the craven,
The other was full of rampantly cruel flight.
Is this the universe sending me signs?
How can I be sure the world works in such ways?
But consider a man stuck within the lines
Meekly regretting the content of his days.
Another speaks loud of his life's vibrancy
With scarcely a consistency to his soul.
Now I'm questioning what's inside of me
And staring fully on the decision's toll.
You can gain more from what you see with your eyes
If you can peer through the world's little disguise.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 11:40 PM UTC
Why is there so much pain and suffering all around me? Human drama, chaos and confusion consume our energy., People dwell too often on negativity It's like an illness spreading rampantly..
I realize we all have good and evil tendencies.. So choose your Shepard wisely and journey carefully, pay close attention in unknown territory..
Some depart and never make it... Most have the chance but never take it.. A few cheat and try to fake it..
It's our purpose to find our way home and release the quintessence of heaven hidden in flesh and bone..
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 3:36 AM UTC
when i spit the CO2
from me, gasping
rabid and rampantly,
i at least (at last)
will know how
to reconcile myself
with its parting
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 7:16 PM UTC
*They swallowed me and spit out.
My pride was dispelled in a cold land.
The tumid persecution with the connivance of rake rampantly exhume my organs.
My fervent desire in extending my hand was ebbing fast.
I’m a feme. I’m at the end of my tether.
They tied up my hands and feet on both edge of the glandola.
I was surrounded by darkness frozen alone.
From night till dawn they flogging me then soak in salty water.
No more grain of hope for me to see the birth of my son.
I can taste no more the honeydew that my husband had brought me.
They will surely lament for me…
They whom I vowed to serve and cherish.
Who wants to indite a poem for me?
Who wants to limn my life story?
My lesion leaked by flies has been dried up.
My body was mortify in shame without any clad.
I’m at the end of my tether.
But…
They will remember me!
They will tell my life story.
They will fight for me!
They, the youth, will cut the Gordian knot!
*
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 12:46 AM UTC
you know its spring
when the chill of winter
releases the song of the finch
with the ripples of joyous paean.
when the robin from her nest
does her up-down dance
on the miry ground in search
of those that creep and crawl
when mud awakens
from its solidified slumber
to splash rampantly about
when children peel layers
to run under the cobalt sky
JCM © 7/10/13
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 10:07 PM UTC
Red roses
and orange poppies.
I see these flowers
growing rampantly throughout the back yard
and I want to pick every single one of them for you.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC
Supercharged,
I feel your fingertips,
so electrical.
Rampantly we travel
to unknown galaxies,
where stars hear our dreams.
I see your face in the void,
taste your meteorite-blood
as it floods my soul.
Your eyes reflect Vega-system,
which I love, immersing
myself in your Heavenly
body above me,
I spiral inside you.
I cannot inhale your pheromones,
are we real here,
in these living cosmos?
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 7:33 AM UTC
Grow,
Good morning, get up, get going, get out, get it?
Get giggity, giggly,
Great, get in, get quite, real g's move in silence, and gesticulations get goons gone,
Go ahead, go forth with great care, go far, go out, get lost, go back,
Grasp green garments,
Go on,
Respire,
Read rhetoric, read rhythm, read rhymes,
Read people,
Respond resplendently, require resolution,
Realize, rain rains, read rain rain gauge,
Risk rewards, run rapidly, run rampantly, run triumphantly,
Rise up, rise on, ride horses, ride waves, ride on,
Red letter days,
Irked?
Inhale, intake, insure, inhibit,
Intuition informs insides,
Imitators idolize, I irk, irritate, insist Immaculate
Inspire innovation, incite celebration,
Inner id ingests infestations,
Ideal installed,
Move,
Make much of it, make mistakes, make mends, make merry, make cheer, make love, make peace,
Mind, mind manners, mind time, mind love, mind peace,
Move, move over, move up, move in, move out, move on,
More so, more smiles, more laughs, more life, more understanding, more peace, more love,
Marvelous magenta muse moves me,
Exhale,
Exhibit excellence, energize everyone,
Eat east, eat in, eat out, eat everywhere, with everyone,
Exhale, exit anger, exit stress, exit breath,
Enters euphoria, enters energy, with ease
Need,
Need no one, need nothing, only neo Nazis,
No, need necessities, need neurons, need Nutella, nourishment,
Now know knowledge, know profound power found in numbers, now know nothing
Restart
Reduce, reuse, recycle,
Reproduce,
Re-energize, refuel, revamp, repeat,
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC
Matron of the festival,
child of the hazy dream land,
herald of the time strayed deities.
With a raspy roar you call us out from our withered inflection,
into the maddening fire hive
rampantly dancing like indigineous arcane inventions.
Water bearer to the fractured hillside warriors,
queen of the concrete paradise,
ferry us to the elusive body of the moment
and rid us of our abnormal myopic reality.
Wandering child,
Beautiful child,
your epic expedition is at its timely genesis.
I pray the world is prepared
for your vivid prismatic anima
and the staunch anthem of revolution.
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
I like about
July
are multitudes of pink mimosa trees
on countless country
roads
with orange day lilies
running rampantly
along stranger’s driveways
air thick from
smoky spent fireworks
trigger thoughts
of sad
goodbyes
said way too soon
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 5:52 PM UTC
*Time is relative.
It can yell. It can scream.
But it can't run backwards.*
It takes 8 minutes for the light from the sun to reach the earth,
And hundreds of thousands of this exact timeframe
for the sun's inexistent sound to permeate in permanence.
A solar explosion would annihilate the human force.
Everything we know would sublimate into a vacuumed space.
All knowledge of everything,
Vanished in a fiery apocalypse.
Death would arrive before it even happens.
So what is the purpose of life if death could already be here,
Eight minutes from this moment?
The time it takes to boil noodles,
Take a shower,
Eat a bowl of cereal,
Could be the last spoken,
Thought,
Performed part of everything.
How should I believe time is real,
Death is cheated,
God is listening,
When this minute could be my eighth?
I swing my chainless pocket watch and count each of my five hundred seconds.
And wonder if it would be simpler to exist where time doesn't.
But each child climbs higher on the playground's jungle gym,
Reaching for doctorates and dissertations,
Their watches not as precisely examined as my own.
No worry of things that are all too possible
In just a matter of time-
School shootings,
Asteroid strikes,
Uncontrollable plagues-
While my watch counts nanoseconds as it falls onto Earth's surface,
Their watches spin rampantly,
Drilling into their sandboxes.
I see this,
The same age I was years before,
And these children melt into wheel chairs and death beds alike,
Their children mourning their passing,
While their children's children,
Crippled with tears,
Hold the hands of their parents in desperation
for an agony so ripping.
And all the while I see the sun exhale its time.
The trees ignite,
the sidewalks smelt with the burning grass and buildings.
And just as I peer into the beyond,
My rusting pocket watch clinks with the sanded surface of this childhood play box.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 12:20 PM UTC
hop scotch
a writer
pieces
break apart
like letters in words
of a poem to your loved one.
I demand
closure
disclosure
of my insides
rampantly splayed out
across your carpet.
I make myself known,
Uncanny,
flailing out,
released by phrases
set upon a page
I am relevant
only until
relevance is no longer
I am swayed by the ink
by your tongue.
Gasp.
I am not glory
As it all is undone.
Hold on.
To me darling.
As I break apart.
Letters
Of words
Stark.
Like those blank squares.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 1:42 PM UTC
I live to dream
Up here where the writers can share their time in imagined peace,
Duly thought out greatnesses, and the squeezing in
and about
and around
in rampantly quiet fondness, sometimes (often) of one another.
Spending infinities, tireless hours, slaving in their castles in the sky,
-composing
Constructing life from billions and trillions of words
that happen on small forms of paper that slip and toss themselves like dumb flounders,
Sometimes to the ground,
Spiraling slowly to their deaths,
15,000,000 feet below.
…
The abused dreamlings are meant like rain to slick and refresh the ancient, strained making of
a typewritten play,
teaming with the brilliance of enamoring flytraps, teething, eager to consume you and make you seed,
a story
continuing from now and forever,
as it were,
crushed up into passing word,
gyrating on the systems of (wr)etched meaning,
crafted in the hot,
rusty, moaning gears that power such
our upward descent into a dense and bitter (sweet) Sky.
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 1:52 AM UTC
Vengeance is a sickness
rampantly infecting mind body and soul
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 8:59 AM UTC