"reiterating" poems
"ONE IN THREE WOMEN ARE VICTIMS OF ****** ASSAULT." They say.
I am sat. Awestruck.
"LOOK TO YOUR LEFT AND LOOK TO YOUR RIGHT. ONE OF YOU IS A VICTIM OF ****** ASSAULT."
I look to the woman on my left.
I look to the woman on my right.
I look to the front.
Avoid any eye contact.
Keep a straight face.
Don't give anything away.
How dare they out me like this?
The woman to my left knows that she hasn't.
The woman to my right knows that she hasn't.
That leaves me.
Raw and exposed.
I did not give consent for this to be shared.
This was my secret.
My ***** little secret that I do not want to have but I do despite.
Did they plan this?
They must have known.
There must be a seating plan somewhere.
Someone did some digging around.
But how?
I told no one.
This was my secret.
My ***** little secret that I do not want to have but do despite.
Anger creeps up inside.
Avoid any eye contact.
Keep a straight face.
Don't give anything away.
Pain.
I dig my nails into the palm of my hand and I squeeze.
Blood is drawn.
I look down at my hand.
The woman on my left does the same.
Cover it quick.
I look forward.
They are still talking.
I process nothing.
Avoid any eye contact.
Keep a straight face.
Don't give anything away.
They are still talking.
Focus.
Concentrate.
What are they saying?
Finally I tune back in to their closing line,
Reiterating their first point:
"ONE IN THREE WOMEN ARE VICTIMS OF ****** ASSAULT."
Aug 29, 2022
Aug 29, 2022 at 5:24 PM UTC
My dreams whisper sweet things
And surreptitiously speak to me
My waking words are rote and empty
-spilling with hypocrisy
Yet their comforting embrace
Simply bring smiles to my face
Filling my mind while I'm asleep
They send messages lined with silver That vanish when I wake
To bring about a dull and listless form Who is shaping my last mistake
You see I wake in a storm
Simultaneously feeling constrained
To my bed
I can't get up while there's no filter
For the rush of noises in my head
If there's a difference between
What you know and what you believe Then why is it not as easy
To imagine my reprieve
Why can I only experience a vivid life
While I sleep
Then once again wake up
To this Fear Doubt and Anger
Choking me
Invoking me by pushing buttons
Of their endless promises
To for certain be found in youth
While my vision is livid sinning
Contemplating and pinpointing
Who too close is uncouth
You sit there and feed my veins
An explanation to your lies
With all the compromised
Washed up water
Memorized methods
Coping mechanisms
While it's your heart that remains
Aloof
Then sit there in desperation
Reiterating as if you know
The deep introspective answer
When any fool can see your wisdom
Is wrought in the vanity
Of a talented dancer
If you lost the truth of sanity
Would you retrieve it for ten cents
Or would you search inside
Before hiding from the confines
Of a necessary moment
I'd rather die or sacrifice my life
Before cowering from what's hidden
The message so raw
That counts your flaws
Like there was some proof
In what is missing
But ultimately I guess
It comes down to the small decision
The chip on my shoulder
That became a boulder
When I reached out
For my inner vision.
So while I feel so disparate and alone
In the trenches losing my senses
Will I be the hero or be the villain
Will I let the poison make me it's toy
Or take the penicillin
*Some days my life feels as heavy
As that last breath left over
From how loudly I shout
But I guess a general synopsis to you
Of how I sometimes feel inside
Is a decent first step to waking up
While I'm down and out*
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 4:53 AM UTC
In the intimacy of these moments,
There are some pure relationships,
The angels are reiterating the spiritual song of love,
There is a silence in the land,
The sky is amazed,
There is a radiance up to the skies,
There is a melody in the active and deep surroundings,
There is beauty in all your grace,
There is love in the air,
What kind of love is this?
What kind of dream is this?
What kind of flood of emotions have gushed in?
The days have changed,
The nights have changed,
Conversations have changed,
The mode of life has changed,
In the intimacy of these moments,
There are some pure relationships,
The angels are reiterating the spiritual song of love,
What has time done to us?
It has changed me flesh and skin,
I have found you,
And you have found me,
We have met like two harmonies,
Neither high or low,
In the flames of our passion,
We burn both our souls and bodies,
In the garden of my dreams,
You have brought a beautiful springtime,
The flowers have my colours,
But the fragrance is from you.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC
when everything everywhere
whispered in irresistible languages
*hey you there
stop resisting*
i began to surrender
was flowing free
stretching
wings flapping
toward the unknowable
inside
experimented with ditching
body as identification
name as identification
personal history as identification
faded off
mad word searching
explaining justifying
reiterating too much information
i loosened my squeeze grip
on intellectualism
tell-me-how-to-be spiritual books
whatever the famous someone
said once then got bronzed over
i surrendered to universal unity
where i lavishly decorated
my living changing dream
with my own snap choices
i was flowing with fresh
synergetic synthesis
returned outside to pedestrian streets
where angelics mixed in
wore transparent disguises
i began to flow
forgiveness out and in
skipped a light fandango
splashing puddles was
answer to inclement weather
i set wooden faces
to smiling after
i switched my own
i rolled on through
perceived stop signs
of the everlasting no
incinerated all my karma with
nownownow
wonwonwon
made myself
stock still
experienced
yes yes
relaxed awareness
breathed
emptiness
opened all my hands
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 2:16 PM UTC
You are a beautiful song
Beauty enough to turn me on
Forever you make me strong
With your flawless melodic tone.
You are my favorite song
I keep in my heart and singing
To this hard life as stone
We better live before we're gone.
You are my cradlesong
Soothing me as I lie down.
You are that metallic song
With fine drawing body of verses
I dare to keep you long
With those tenacious, beguiling chorus.
You are my song
I constantly reiterating
Only glancing at you
I don't need playlist on you.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 1:51 AM UTC
Her eyes
an enchanting pair,
alive and mobile,
gazing in to them,
in the beginning
of a journey
and at its end,
he finds himself reflected
just perfectly.
At times, he sees those eyes
brimming with tears
mysterious in origin,
(reminding nature)
Wet, flowing eyes
prompt him to introspect,
help him keep
his balance;
the hot spring
in those pools
quickly melts his-
rock hard arrogance,
makes him eschew
his macho male pose,
through rituals of such kind
reiterating love beyond words,
he is rechristened,
now, passionate lover,
inveterate protector,
an equal half ever.
He quickly gets elated
by the silver strands of light
emanating from the depth
of those kohl lined eyes
that tie him with easy love knots,
quiet eloquent eyes
reminds him the moments
never he would forget
with his mother as a child,
and all other women
who never failed to shower
love on him as he swam
in the pool of their adoring eyes.
Even now he is thrilled
by numerous memories
that still are prefulgent,
an oil lamp with thousand lighted wicks
he has seen in childhood
burning in the shrine of his family;
now that flame
sparkles in her eyes.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 3:08 AM UTC
By Arcassin , Lexi , Tara and rach
:::AB:::: Conversations with out any words,
:::AW::: Creates a blissful peace between two souls,
::::RH:::: A bond without voices to cause constraints,
:::TO::: Listening closely, Without any of they're ears.,
:::AB:::: Rivers never get too mellow or narrow,
:::AW::: More narrow then the thoughts that cause simple minds,
:::RH:::: Simple minds that quake in the presence of such a holy river,
;:::TO::: colliding together only be ruined by the waves of salt,
::::AB:::: And as I realize , and look inside that my soul burns for a higher judgment,
:::AW:::: A Judgement that quickens ones heartbeat,
::::RH::: Pumping my blood, reiterating judgement awaits once this fragile body tires,
:::TO::: So far apart yet so close, never finding the key too his heartbeat.
:::AB::: While I'm waiting til she finds it, I'm still fading and bleeding,
:::AW::: The key awaits in the depths of the river, cleansed of all unholiness.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 11:58 PM UTC
This era; the apex motto, the devils prada, and some sleeper cells gone rogue gray.
This air; smoked toxicity, metals and minty flavored ash, checks made out to cash.
This nation; displaced keepsakes, reiterating cheap fates, through false image gates.
This spirit; disinherited for keeping its word, was this not the world we had set out to build?
This ideal; half forgotten and rarely sought.
Anyone else unforgiven ?
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 3:59 PM UTC
We are dancers in the dark moving to the rhythm of the silence.
I can feel your breath beginning to violate my innocent skin as our lips become one and fingers pluck at garments like musical strings to the soul, exposing me to the grasp of intimacy.
The motions become more natural as you begin reciting poetry against me, devouring every word my body gives to you and reusing it in the next line.
Reiterating your extensive vocabulary never felt so wonderful to a woman.
My soul reaches out to ask for you by name, and hips collide in a catastrophic heat of the moment.
Sweat droplets swell on our frames as we sway to a consistent pulse,
Never straying out of line.
My body swells with ecstacy as I memorize our routine to the core of its confidentiality.
Our finale pursues us almost instantaneously as we become unsuspecting victims to the nature of devotion.
You had me at hello.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
Life is complex, she said to me
A statement unfortunately true,
Reiterating the fact, real happiness
Has become a fleeting virtue.
The single most excruciating task
Of anyone to ever, have to ask-
Is to live this life, so full of pain
As the human race, itselve's disdain
Yet, its as effortless as drawing breath
The simplicity of air
Our automatic processes
That which contagiously, we share:
Laughter, Heartache, Hatred, Hope-
the humanistic ways to cope.
Despite that complexities insue,
You know strength, to let faith renue
Bestow some courage, place belief
In all that initially brings you grief
Every morning, a new dawn's shining-
& every cloud, has it's silver lining.
Mar 31, 2024
Mar 31, 2024 at 3:56 AM UTC
*Defuse me,
by reiterating words
I so long to hear.*
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 6:05 AM UTC
By Arcassin , Lexi , Tara and rach
:::AB:::: Conversations with out any words,
:::AW::: Creates a blissful peace between two souls,
::::RH:::: A bond without voices to cause constraints,
:::TO::: Listening closely, Without any of they're ears.,
:::AB:::: Rivers never get too mellow or narrow,
:::AW::: More narrow then the thoughts that cause simple minds,
:::RH:::: Simple minds that quake in the presence of such a holy river,
;:::TO::: colliding together only be ruined by the waves of salt,
::::AB:::: And as I realize , and look inside that my soul burns for a higher judgment,
:::AW:::: A Judgement that quickens ones heartbeat,
::::RH::: Pumping my blood, reiterating judgement awaits once this fragile body tires,
:::TO::: So far apart yet so close, never finding the key too his heartbeat.
:::AB::: While I'm waiting til she finds it, I'm still fading and bleeding,
:::AW::: The key awaits in the depths of the river, cleansed of all unholiness.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 5:43 AM UTC
Weaving itself, the dream-spider:
I see an aged man
(Wearing his evening time-machined body,)
Walking,
Traipsing upon the jogging track
At a pace which nature observes.
His frame battered,
Pummeled by age's indignation—
Of youth's battle lost.
His mowed grass-like hair showcasing
a white hue patented by age's theme of perseverance.
Beholden to years which he beheld.
His suspenders holding matter elegantly
Despite the invisible mass adhered to his layers
Excreted by years matured;
Increasing his gravity
Making him denser, heavier;
Decreeing excess energy.
Yet he obliges with his compromised gait
in reiterating verbs of motion.
Taking twice as much time to complete a revolution,
Taking twice as much
As his yesteryears.
In a witness's capacity, I relay:
Everything is a disciple of change,
But your energy...
Your energy remains as the constant
to the proportionality of age and will.
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 5:33 AM UTC
I made this curse many lifetimes ago,
while in my cave in the high Himalayas,
when watching humanity, like ants scurrying around in the dust,
I saw clearly the insane and evil mess
that all religions and all political systems
would drag humanity into eventually.
It could only be done with the unquestioning
cooperation of the masses.
The curse is working its way to fulfilment
as I write--nation fighting nation-- priests of all "religions"
blessing their countries paid murderers,
urging ,indeed,ordering men and women
to go out and wage war in their "gods" or "goddesses" name..
Insane evil people hating strangers, tellers of lies
are pouring their depraved energies into attempting to ****
as many people as they can.
And liberal poetical democrats who are usually
either monarchist right wing oligarchy slaves or
dictatorial left wing socialist oligarchy slaves are
wallowing in generational hatred by supporting
this filth on the sole of humanities shoe.
reiterating lies as truth and calling for people to slaughter while
"liberal"politicians speak dishonestly about freedom and justice for the
supporters of this religious and political hatred.
United Nations?.
Gimme a break!.
The people must lie down and offer their throats to these liberal scumbags knives.
While human shields are used to **** innocents live on TV
for the ongoing campaign of lies and deceit.
Tahiyaa.
A curse on all your houses.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 2:12 PM UTC
Meaningless
pushed and pulled
through arbitrary dimensions
Emulating differences in the same,
the Fatal Contradiction
Redefining the sane!
Recombined
fused with idle spinning.
Forging the distorted lie,
these lines in between
with apparent coherency
and ingenious discrepancies
blurring the boundaries
of this new systematic hell!
Put in perspective
these inconsequential banalities
and childish banter
all but shape the future
reiterating the errors of yesterday
Skewed
Conceptualized
Vizualized
Realized
Quantized
... Denied!
how long was it before i fell?
does it even matter?
when even these parallel thoughts repel...
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 7:39 AM UTC
i am always amazed at how
my convoluted mind works.
just read sverre,s title...
my cup runneth over....
and was instantly, catapulted,
back to....
a sweltering, sunday morning.
sitting on a slippery gloss
painted bench...navy blue
and white....
in my itchy lace collared
dress....for best use only.
singing, angelicly.
the lord saved me
(sign of cross, then
hands pointing to the sky)
i am as happy as can be
(point to smiling face, then hands clapping)
my cup's full and .....running over.
(hands make cup,heels of palms together. then roll over each other.)
my hands reiterating the
words with the actions,
(in brackets).
i would not have sung
that gospel song,
for more
than thirty years...
my mind....is a funny thing
but the memory is a happy one.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
03:31
it’s constant.
constant pounding,
constant screaming,
of your name.
reiterating of you,
and constantly driving me.
absent yet constant.
echoing through every crevice
in my mind,
and of the mind you reside.
constantly screamed to fill the silence you left.
every gap of nothing is filled with everything of you.
you reign over my sombers,
awake when im not.
when my conscious is taken,
you follow me into sleep.
only to wake to you
and sleep to you.
and wake to you.
and sleep to you.
and wake to you,
and yet another
daily,
cyclical torment,
where the only constant is you.
constantly
constantly
constantly.
Feb 19, 2020
Feb 19, 2020 at 10:35 PM UTC
No one
is who they were
yesterday.
Minuscule adaptations form
with each sunrise
and go unnoticed
until you look back at an old photograph,
or think about something that happened
with an old friend who is now a stranger
that you know nothing about.
You are your own doppelganger.
The girl sitting in the theatre
playing obnoxious games
with her loud, aspiring individualistic friends
seems like a stranger to me.
It is impossible
to pinpoint the moment
when things started to change
and I lost sight of that girl,
and who she wanted to be.
At the least,
I wonder
when everything
started to shift.
What caused the imbalance?
Now I sit alone
in classes I don't care to pursue
with no sense of aspiration
towards anything.
I remember all of the laughter
and the sleepovers, gossiping about
everything.
I remember random details
and insignificant everyday stories
that could take up hours
upon hours
of reiterating.
When a friendship terminates
what are you supposed to do
with all of your old shared secrets?
Where are you supposed to put those memories?
The girl I am right now
doesn't talk to those people anymore
and I can hardly remember
what it felt like
to be in her shoes,
and all I really have
is knowing things
about the people
that they used to be.
CVT
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 12:40 AM UTC
It's that time of the year again
Our politicians put on a new persona
Nothing new compared to the previous gimmick
Decade old cliched stuff, on the repeat.
A costly road ahead with a hefty expense
Back-channels, bargains and deals , none can comprehend
Funding is secured, the plans are now been drawn
Delegation to the foot-soldiers, with ease and control
The demography and previous trends have all been accounted
War-rooms being set up, as the arsenal needs to be surmounted.
Minute by minute, hour by hour
The ***** games and abuse of power
Horse trading has begun,
The influential will re-run
Money, honey or even the hard ways
Just break the loyalty and build pathways
Media Cells activated on the double
Spitting venom and creating trouble
Plethora of photoshops and planted stories
Peddling narratives, worst than conspiracy theories.
Meanwhile on the ground, a different game being played
The pawns as usual disillusioned and dismayed
Onslaught begins - First phase division
Divide by nationality, status or religion
Hate-mongering and fear-mongering
No holds barred
Political-correctness and propaganda not that far apart
All kind of theatrics have been put to use
Needless to discount the petty rhetoric and all the abuse
Both left and right wing ideologies hand-crafted to look cool
To trap the gullible and make them drool
And nationalistic pride sprayed like chem-trails
Beyond jingoism, everything else fails
Morality and conscience have vanished into thin air
Utopian lands being promised, as if almost here.
The voter's are intelligent, they keep reiterating
It's just a bait though, to lure them for voting
But then again, what is the voter supposed to do?
Greater evil or lesser evil are the choices to make
Can it get any worst, is his obvious take
Confusion, delusion and a hasty decision made
Now crib, cry, swear and the same blame game
Cometh the next election, its the same game play
The vicious cycle repeats
Politicians are back to deceive and cheat.
Alright! Been there, done that
To err is human they say
Well! Guess what?
I'll willfully repeat that!
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 10:48 AM UTC
we had a lot to talk about we had a lot to touch about but i could not let you near me
there was a softness in your eyes there was a tenderness that brought out every ounce of moisture in my bones yes i mean there and here too
and when you tell me of grand plans i believe them
and when you take me back to that time i am already there
rhyming and writing and reiterating lullabies once video taped for you as gifts
i ask simple questions to keep my heart in check i feel each pump pump pump
you make it pump pump pump pump pump faster pump when you talk of connections and histories and weather in small feely towns that i have slowly attempted to archive
you say: we have been together for forever
you say: i never want us to not love each other
say never want us to be without another
never felt this love with someone other
love sick drawn red crayon waxy imagery
i drip drip like a faucet starts then running
from leaks to waterfalls
i talked about the pools you created but never the oceans
but god **** you create OCEANS
and when i lick my lips i can still taste your emotions
so i walk around tracing circles with my tongue making sure your sweat is not gone
making sure your taste is not gone
and you said you never want to break up again
and i begin to contemplate words like never and forever and again again again
i keep you here, mr. love sick.
feeling each feverish pump you create.
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
In a room, with the walls painted grey,
A bed, a cupboard, a table and a chair, finds their place in its emptiness.
The curtains, of a melancholic shade, drawn shut, as if the sun burns
Wrapped in solitude, my eyes can see better in this dark.
No voices, no people, only the walls to listen to,
The stories mentioned by its inhabitants that passed through.
The grimness ever spreading, reiterating a life's worth of tales
This solitary confinement is a saving grace, as the world outside fails.
And with passing time, I chose to hide
Rather than face my fears waiting outside.
Within these grey walls,
I see a chance to be at peace with myself, until one day, the heavens whisper its time to come home.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 5:49 AM UTC
Light cracks open the comfort of somnolence,
Eyes are prised apart with Thought For The Day
As distributed by Pure DAB, words, in part,
Punctuate consciousness; something about foregiveness,
Some parable or other from some comfortable priest
Trying to be comforting to those
That will be work bound in short order,
That will be departing with a packed kiss
With their lunch. I throw off the double duvet
And try to distract thoughts from single-mindedly
Reiterating her recent cruelties, or from pondering
Upon my secluded anger which breaks my peace,
Hunger will dissipate this tendency as I crave to break my fast,
Consider the longs days stretch without hint of incentive.
Mar 28, 2010
Mar 28, 2010 at 1:02 PM UTC
Appreciate the simple gift of inspiration
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Appreciate the simple gift of inspiration
Perhaps it may take a while to wake up
Perhaps you may never sleep and dream
Relaxation’s funny thing.You can or you can’t
Ever mounting stressful situations blight a day
Coming to hauntingly appear all thru the night
I try to memorise a favourite poem by heart
Appreciate the simple gift of inspiration then
The rhythms of that favourite will give tempo.
Eventually the tempo will give the inspiration
Tempos will give you the medleys in your head.
Head becomes a power housing for the brain
Establish then that white light in the centre
So relax into a meditative state of mind.
I appreciate the simple gift of inspiration
Meditation holds the key it links you with all
Poets of the bygone ages that you’ve read.
Like a spark of genius , you’ve come alive
Eventually you may write fifty lines of poetry
God given inspired poetry and it rhymes
In the space of a few minutes a masterpiece
Fortunately the simple gift of inspiration is free
The freedom that you hold is a key to the city
On certain good days it is the key to Xanadu.
For do you remember the dome of Kubla Khan
In Seventeen ninety seven the poet Coleridge
Noting his poem from a drug induced dream
Simply wrote this epic poem. But lost half a
Poem when a person from Porlock knocked
And interrupted the genius and he forgot lines
Reiterating the old saying dream and not make
A dream your master , think and not make
Thoughts your aim, to meet with triumph and
In disaster, treat the two imposters the same!
Onymous with the simple gift of inspiration
Never anonymous be forever simply proud.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Inspired by Philip.
Written November 22nd 2018.
Nov 22, 2018
Nov 22, 2018 at 7:31 AM UTC
When honesty feels like your organs are exposed-
blood is slipping out numbed wounds and it's embarrassing,
then maybe at that point, it's not just honesty.
Maybe it's a blatant self-sacrifice, like a look-at-me
look-at-my-love-for you confession,
or even an I-can-rip-my-own-skin-off-
and-show-you-what's-inside plea.
Believe you me.
You'll be a Prometheus punished daily
by reiterating the truth over and over,
only to grow a new skin overnight,
before you ever lie again.
And that honest self-sacrifice should not
be for someone unworthy.
It's a truth meant to be seen by someone
with merit.
Who wouldn't take your exposure
place it over the fire for far too short a time,
and complain while they eat it up.
The right people are hard to come by-
because real honesty is barely clean,
and rarely meant to be eaten raw.
Self-sacrifice isn't light,
isn't always healthy,
and may leave you with a sick stomach.
But if the right person sees it,
they'll stitch you back up,
drink only your tears until
you have empty eyes,
and hold you and your secrets in,
like the sweetest child they could ever love.
Stop ripping yourself open
to people who can't deal with blood,
especially yours.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 12:31 AM UTC