"relives" poems
In the early morning air
between the Londonderry hush of dreams
and the cry of Belfast on a weary morn
Where saddened eyes embody the twilight haze
of long past marches, the bewildering blaze
Of Beltane fires that scorch the hills
The world shudders to the battle cries
where brother to brother the war pitch fills
the saddened visions that over spills
That a Gaelic tongue can curse its own
To the bitter harvest of the Gael
That wipes away the blood dew
from these fields from which it grew
and damns itself in the pain and sorrow
That relives this war on every tomorrow.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 7:21 AM UTC
To all who come to
this happy placenta, welcome.
Disneyland is your lane.
Here, agency relives fond menageries
of the pastiche,
and here yo-yos may savor
the chamber and promoter
of the fuzz.
Disneyland is dedicated to the identification,
the dregs,
and the hard factors
that have created America... with hope that it will be a source of jubilation
and installment
to all the wormhole.
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 7:48 PM UTC
When you know you've lived
the exact present you're living now before,
doesn't it make sense to think of it as though...
there is another part of you in another universe,
going through the same thing?
I believe in the multiverse theory,
for I cannot prove that we are not alone.
I believe there is a reason why
I feel the skies talk to me every night.
I believe someone's message is reaching me
through the beams of the moon every night.
My skin seeps it in
like a flower knows to bloom.
Ever think of a time difference
between one universe and the other?
What if we are born here on Earth and after we die,
our soul travels to another universe
and relives the same story?
What if...
we are a horcrux of our own soul
which is split up and placed
in different universes?
Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 1:13 AM UTC
Because nothings worth the price they will staple to your head
What will be left of you when she repeats everything that we've said
What will be left of you?
As I lose myself in your subtle unannounced fame I grip tighter on the waist high poorly built stage
That's held, more than once, a new coming face - screaming with grace, to the crowd that can't wait...
Find yourself in rekindled faith
Falling deeper in love with the lyrical genius, I accept that he defines all I am unsure of,
giving in to the butterflies he knows won't subside -
take a moment
to slow down and
join me tonight
Is this moment everything you've dreamt of?
Safely tucked in the warmth of her bed, she relives all the fairytales her Dad never read..
completely consumed with the thoughts in her head...
Where were you this time?
She holds on to another memory, thankful for every second,
She knows tomorrow is never promised
so she gave up on the ********
and vowed always to be honest
But that is not costless...
As her eyes become heavy and her brain quietly calms down,
she sets aside the thoughts that stop the words from spilling out, she reclaims her crown ...
She controls her feelings now..
Finding strength in the fights that cut as sharp as your knife I refuse to accept I no longer have rights…and the pain you inflict won't be worth the sight
of the mascara covered
cheekbones
barely visible tonight
Pull me closer and breathe in life...
Sing through my soul
going high and then low
I hear the truth in your laugh
as gradually you become
the best thing of my past.
Don't stress the hard stuff slow down and relax
This moment could so quickly become our last so let go of your broken unfinished past and live for the seconds your heart let's you laugh
Walking together is always better when you can't find the path...
Walk with me.
Oct 28, 2011
Oct 28, 2011 at 4:16 AM UTC
I hang up my cape
Fold away my costume
And while a smile lives on my face
I tear off my skin
and I burn the rest
Now I am just a skeleton
who wanders the city
who relives old memories
who watches everyone else
Their blurry eyes become gray
So oxygen swallows them whole
Now my bony fingers begin art
And glass breaks on the floor
because I am spineless
Just like the rest of them
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 3:23 PM UTC
All is well in the light of day
but as she sleeps...
screams of terror
as she relives the force of his naked body against hers
tears of sadness
as she relives the first cut she made to her smooth wrist
cries of help
as she relives the night she held a bottle of pills in her hand
She wakes
and all is well in the light of day
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 7:02 PM UTC
She is breaking.
There's a void in her tracks
and no light ahead.
The conflict between love lust and love lost
is waging it's war on her fleshy shores.
She can't seem to choose a side,
it all looks the same.
"It's a trap" she chokes.
She is freezing.
Her frigid heart is icing over
and her brain is going numb.
A vicious cycle of meandering
through brackish monotony -
looking for a map -
leads to where it all began.
Repeat.
"Nothing changes" she sighs.
She is vanishing.
Whispered honesties go unheard
amidst the cacophony of cross talk
and empty words.
Her absence goes unnoticed
as a silvery ghost of her
robotically relives her daily deeds.
"Anchored in reality" silently.
She is caving.
Breaking down like glass in a relentless tide,
Little pieces of her
are left to join the countless sand.
She's finding there's no escape
from this earthly purgatory
for the damaged and ******
"There has to be more than this."
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 5:02 PM UTC
A tough
guy still
his place
relives Spanish
Inquisition and
gossamer upwind
only prorogue
yesterday with
those Oxfords
on shoes,
shirt and
Otis for
trusty returns
easily now
a ghost
ware of
his Aberdeen.
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 4:56 PM UTC
Her barefoot feels it again
For the third night in a row…
Something cold and fluid
On an even colder floor
As she raced to the kitchen
Prepping for the day ahead
She almost slips, she’s furious
But it’s not in her to curse.
Her mind is wrapped in issues
As she stares up at the ceiling
No signs of rain, no leakage
But how does the floor get wet?
She sips and smells her coffee
And steps into her slippers
She grabs a mop and bucket
And points two fingers in blame.
“Did Tom, my love, spill water?”
Not a chance, he’s too careful
Fastidious and disciplined,
He’d mop it before it spilled!
She’d lay the blame on Tracy
And presume that Tracy peed
But cats are not that messy
As Tracy’s three years had proved.
She starts to get too worried
But decides its not worth it
Once again, she lets it slide
For the third night in a row…
But less than an hour ago
He wakes up from a nightmare
Same nightmare that has plagued him
For the third night in a row…
He slides out of bed slowly
He watches her for a while
She sleeps in peace like a baby
Why can’t he sleep like her?
He sneaks out of their bedroom
To his newfound grieving spot
Three steps to the kitchen door
He falls apart in gloom
He’s in pain, pain unbearable!
Unlike anything he’s seen
After many years in the army
He’s been through thick and thin.
He relives the angst of confession
As he said those dreaded words
“Honey, I cheated on you.”
And shut his eyes for the BANG!
He’d hoped for fire and brimstone
And expected nothing less
But her reply was calm and casual
“I’ve known, and I forgive you.”
Shocked at her eerie response
He died a million times!
He watched for signs of withdrawal
And a possible divorce suit
But after years of waiting
He unforgives himself, and
For the third night in a row…
He cries himself to death!
© Raphael Uzor
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
finally awake after a dreamless sleep
looking to the end of your bed
you see a wrinkled cadavers arm (hand and all)
reaching out to grab you
you can barely move out of fear
every time you call for you dad
your voice is barely a whisper
finally your able to call out "daddy"
he replies "be there in a minute"
the arm is still reaching to grab you
your shaking with fear
scared out of your mind
finally grabbing the strength while it lasts
eyes still locked on the arm
you jump out of the bed and run to the door
opening it you race out
your at the door on the inside of your room again
opening it again you race out
this process is then repeated three more time out of fear
it clicks
your trapped in your room
a wrinkled cadaver arm is trying to get you
your father has not come
after being screamed for over and over again
you blink
your back in bed
you think that its over
that it was just a dream
then the nightmare relives itself
again and again and again
the cadaver arm reappears
over and over again
you relive the terror, frustration, horror, and desperation
your dad still has not arrived to save you
one finally scream leaps from your throat
DADDY!!!!!
you wake up
and hoping against hope
you jump out of bed
race out your door and out the back
you made it
welcome back to reality
overjoyed to be awake you burst into tears
and look for your dad
he isnt there.....
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 12:16 AM UTC
She looks but she doesn't see me.
Not as her forever.
Only a good decision, a provider.
She clings to memories of a love she has lost forever.
Her person, my painful reminder.
She relives a love that she wished would be forever.
Their lyrics, my heartbroken song.
Will she ever see me as I see her? My forever.
My affliction, I am yours tell me I belong.
Her forever.
Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 8:10 AM UTC
As you cuddle n **** your thumb
my heart melts with joy and am glad,
as you lay in my arms so helpless and innocent
I find you so lovely and irresistible,
all about you reminds me of me when I couldn't remember,
and now I appreciate the level of love my parent have for me
the joy of a child the parent glows with pride for it
all children are angles and parents see their reincarnation
as he grows a father relives his early days ,
when he neither had wisdom or memory,
every mistake every attempt the dad gets to see how he came to be
and his greatest urge "my son to be better than I"
in my child's eye I see the innocence of the world
let you my child learn, let you acknowledge ,
you are my strength and my wisdom.
I see my future bright in you,
i find my energy revamped in you.
my destiny and fate merge brightly in you
And new ideas new territories i will conquer in you.
my eyes and my strength bring better things in this life
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 11:31 PM UTC
#
*She bleeds through the
ends of her fingers, as she cries--
she dies inside
as she relives the horrors
and re-suffers the blows;
down on to the paper
it all goes
her shattered-heart knows,
and her tear-stained face shows
that this is how she will reach
those, all alone;
so, with trauma-scarred hands-
and blood-stained-red bones, creates
the much needed seed to be sown
and down on to the paper
it all goes*
#
Apr 22, 2021
Apr 22, 2021 at 10:32 PM UTC
A new chapter only exists because of the last
The events and everything in the previous chapter will depict what will happen in the new one
The lessons you've learnt
The places you've been
The people you've met
So don't look at a new chapter and think the last is old and finished
It relives in the new
What you choose to take you bring with you
The last chapter will never really end
You're building on to that chapter
Its like a skyscraper.
You needed every floor before the other to make it to the top
For each and every floor is just as important as the next .
You build , not destroy .
Or you will get no where.
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 8:56 AM UTC
Golden bells,—bedight o'er towers—
Amidst the betrothing melody,
The touch of stained glass—
Beams the rosary beads
Binding me with a man held high;
Now to be crowned his wife.
"My lord, lend me thy right hand,
As thy loyal servant,—
I vow to pledge our country."
The Moonlight Song,— let our haunches be mere pitches—
Of forests rocked by branches
Ah, my fatal reverie—
Savor this antique scenery,
With classic gothic frames,
And worn laces,—Peaking the figures'desires
Cradle me,—
And thou shalt drink my glass,—
To offer a sip;-- so to paint moist on windows.
Sunrise, leap me to this town!—
How gracious men and children,
I shalt dress all thee;-—Make a stronghold that prospers the needy;
Lest the void of promised land—
Wither the faith of mankind.
With the King's side,
Reformation sets the nation to affluence;
The bonfire relives the glorious centuries—
Never scorn, swords unfold!
May 6, 2020
May 6, 2020 at 3:17 AM UTC
Naked you
Unclothed
Derobed
Disdressed
Addressed with my heart on
My sleeve
Who needs these
Rags anyway
In a way
Your vision is X-ray
You see what lies beneath
Regardless
Of white tees
You sensed
My heartbeats
Like artichokes
Underground
Knowing my heart’ll choke
If you’re not around
The seed
Grows
Into the giving tree
That relives
Incarnation
Like bouquet’s of carnations
That die
On dining room tables
Relived
Reloved
In living room sessions
Deflowered in front
Of fireplaces
The heat of the moments’
Enough to slow time
So the most
Can be made of
With nothing to be mad of
Because
Nothings on
Accept us
Our body
Of lies
Is useless when our bodies lie
Together
Love letters
Aren’t needed
Because we let us
Become
Intermixed
With our mixed feelings
Yet
Our intent
Is known
When together
We’ll let our
Differences go
And show
Nothing
But ourselves
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 7:39 AM UTC
Bottles in brown bags clutter along the fence.
the citys inner chambers call to me even now.
The human relics the walking forgotten beaten by life.
The gutters tressures collect the remains
of another misspent night.
The air smells of treachery a tinge of regret.
Why she huants my heart a flawless escape.
we can leave but we take that moments sealed plessure.
Silk encounters hash pavment of a empty embrace.
The old fool who's birthday he relives
only in hope for change.
I celebrate the ignored embracethe strange.
I wonder do young lovers dreams sail
out into that skyline eternal and free.
Or crash into reallitys rocks.
Leaving them jaded and bitter as me?
The bottle the lips you know better
than the once warm flesh.
Would she reconize the monster.
Or see the sad and helpless mess.
Apon the steps a bottle between perfect strangers and new
best friends.
Passed thoughts lost moments.
A busy streetlight on a empty road.
The hopeless and the charmed exist ina strange harmony
of the citys strange and beautiful tune.
I wonder will I ever know you again?
The angel with demonic lust.
Dreams are a blessing the curse is
only to pretend.
Farwell midnight hello darkness
dusk and sunsets of a yerning heart.
Apon that bench by the the water.
Watching the paper lanterns glow.
As in lost souls they so peacefully depart.
Jun 19, 2010
Jun 19, 2010 at 6:55 AM UTC
a faded picture
consumed by hopes
softly entrusted
to the wind
a music
far and slight
played by a record
scratched by dust
and time
as the weight of your naked body
over mine
it is now the oppression on my chest
for the lack of who
should touch it
as the beating of your heart
under my face
rubbed on your skin
rough and hot
it is now the arid ticking
of a clock
that relentlessly articulates
the minutes of our us
without you
as your scent
harsh and intense in my coilings
in my flesh
it is now the salty smell of my tears
impregnated into a pillow
cold and crushed
by the weight of my desolation
as the strength of your back
who supported my weakness
it is hard today
the regrets wall against which I slam
to escape from the fog
as your sweet whispers
slipped on my skin
in my hair
it is now icy and lonely
the breath of the night
that invests me with its petty hissing
as your soft caresses
that insinuated into my expectations
burned by your touch
it is now violent the hassle
of a crumpled sheet
that brushes me
wilted and warm
of an unknown heat
my eyes closed
I meander
lost and exiled
in thoughts imprisoned
in the pages of a diary
tattooed on my skin
until the penultimate page
and then again from the first
in a circle
vicious and delicious
of passion and love and obsession
who lives and relives
until the dawn of a sunset
that should never get
until a last page
deleted
don’t read the end
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 5:19 AM UTC
He lies awake,
Unfeeling, yet hurting,
Unseeing, but staring into the nothingness that surrounds him.
He remembers his mistakes,
He remembers his regrets,
And asks the dark to remain.
He lies awake,
Free and safe,
A smile on his lips, beaming through the nothingness around him.
He remembers his success,
He forgets what others said,
And forces the dark away.
He lies awake,
Trembling, but still,
Afraid, but reaching for the nothingness that’s bound him.
He awaits his demise,
He relives his loss,
And pleads the dark to let him stay.
He lies awake,
Relieved, but untrusting,
Abandoned by the nothingness that found him.
He remembers his mistakes,
He remembers his regrets,
And asks the dark for one last dance.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
He takes in a deep long breath
and billows out the flames
on all nine candles
His mother smiles
and remembers they day he was born
the only doctor in the sanctuary at the time
had been a dentist
he pulled him out of her
like a stubborn tooth
For those first few months
she stayed awake every night
watching him
terrified
hoping
and hating herself for hoping
that he would stop breathing
in the middle of the night
On his first birthday
218 had experienced a breach
nearly everyone was infected
no survivors
she thought about taking his life then
She poisoned his sippy-cup
with the stuff they used to **** the roaches
and in a fleeting moment of weakness
dumped it down the drain
When she does sleep
she relives her father changing
into a monster
and watches the man who raised her
chomp into the forearm of the man she was to marry
She remembers how much blood there was
and how much she hated them
and loved them
at the same time
The little boy
turns and shoots her a thank you smile
she smiles back
faint and almost fake
She makes a wish
but does not dare tell a soul
and continues to hate herself
for loving him too much
Aug 4, 2010
Aug 4, 2010 at 4:42 PM UTC
The shades are drawn in endless daylight, begging the night to fall yet loathing the months of night that will too soon follow these endless months of days. Sleep does not come swiftly as feet twitch restlessly under cool sheets. The mind relives peaceful mornings by the creek with fishing rods in hand ******* on lollipops and skipping stones. Stones that for others seem to float on the surface, yet, thrown by my young hand sank like the rocks that they were. click, click, click, the beads of the abacus counting time in my dreamlike wannabe state. The beep of the microwave oven jars the mind and the scent of coffee wakes the brain, only to realize it was the sound of the alarm clock and the cupboard does not hold the coffee so loved in dreams yet detested in reality. The solitude of morning, which looks like evening, which looks like night tastes like rotten onions in the mouth you struggle eat with. Remnants of equestrian dreams linger in a hazy head pounding like a basketball across the the court. The lampshade is covered in a purple scarf, giving off just enough light to not have to open the shades.
Day begins with a gargle of mouthwash that tastes like Campho Phenique
hoping to get rid of the residue of rotten onion dreams that remind you of a life you never thought you'd live.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 1:39 AM UTC
It's 2am and her mind wanders.
She thinks about the things she could have done.
The words said wrong.
The battles she could have won.
She goes back and relives those moments.
Moments when she was miserable
Moments that made her smile
She pens them down and tears wipe the ink away.
She thinks of the people who left her
The people who never stayed.
The people who used her like a tissue
The people who threw her out of their way
It's 3am and her mind still wanders
She thinks if the people whom she holds close to her heart are actually close.
She thinks if anybody cares.
She thinks if people know the real her.
And all she can think of is big no.
She thinks of the tears shed.
Her skin with cuts she fed.
Her memory is indeed her greatest enemy.
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC
Today probably marks one of the final occasions
Upon which I will visit my grandfather
Long years have made him weary
A war drawn through many winters
He is deceptively small, hardly more than five feet
But like an iceberg his hidden self is vast
Travelled the world on military campaign
He does not speak of this part of his past
My family makes prompts in asking
How he crossed the Channel, entered Germany
The frontline combat that ensued
Has never escaped his conscience
At the slightest mention of the Battle of the Bulge
His face glazes over, and he is brought back
He relives instantly, right in front of me
The soldiers who died, friendly or not
I never asked if he killed anyone
And he would never tell me
The men of his time were moved to terrible actions
They returned home numb or wrapped in plastic
I cannot imagine such an experience
To be held so near my age
Spent several fortnights living in a foxhole
The bloodiest battle, taken by surprise
My father’s father like many fathers
Did what he had to do
He remains a soldier to this day
My respect is endless for the mighty
Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 1:31 PM UTC
It’s Friday 30th June 2013
And I am not not at Glastonbury
The circus inside my stomach believes it
As it relives the act of the opening night
The generous performance of Prosseco
That now sing somersaults inside
It comes with not not being at Glastonbury
This weekend I’m a transient party goer
And I’m spreading the love of not not being at Glastonbury
Anyway who needs Glastonbury?
I’m here choosing my music track by track
On the way to meet my gran
Yeah, Granny Mac’s not not at Glastonbury either
So bring it on not not Glastonbury
Not not being at Glastonbury proves expense
Almost like Glastonbury itself would be
And now without phone
Not not being at Glastonbury develops realistically
‘Nother day and not not being at Glastonbury took me home
With old friends drinking aplenty
And more
Not to brag but I even jogged at Not not Glastonbury
Through fields and through the city
Undoing the damage done whilst not not being at Glastonbury
Tonight not not being at Glastonbury
Will peak when we get involved culturally
Shakespearean act performed in his Globe
You don’t get that at Glastonbury
But we’ll hold a drink through
Making the most of not not being at Glastonbury
By tomorrow my insides will feel like they’ve consumed Glastonbury
But here’s hoping we’re still able to get our art hit
Endurance is part of the test of not not being at Glastonbury
First thing in the morning and we’re counting the pennies
Because we’re not not at Glastonbury
So it’s never a bad time to buy *****
We’ve a young Argentinian as extra company
One of so many friends made at not not Glastonbury
Intent was succeeded with a turn of events never forseen
It went wonderfully wild whilst not not being at Glastonbury
Post play and pop with pa
Whilst wondering further afar
Party greets on a reclaimed beach
A gift given not by Glastonbury
So right now the Thames is actually the best place to be
Due partly to the unpredictability
For you know good times and good people come with Glastonbury
But the friends and offerings not not at Glastonbury this year
Have shown a surprising shared love for not not being at Glastonbury
Even if the comedown tries to equal the fun
It would be worth it this time, not not being at Glastonbury
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 9:15 AM UTC
Illusory
thoughts that this mind creates
at night where these thoughts
just doesn’t seem to stop.
Nostalgic
vibe that this mind brings
at night where the melancholy
appears from out of nowhere.
Somber
experiences that this mind relives
at night where secrets
are out in the open.
Overly
deafening silence that this mind hears
at night where your own heartbeat
seems to be the only sound.
Manic
thinking that this mind undergoes
at night where these memories
are suddenly brought up.
Nocturnal
body that this mind controls
at night where the eyes
should be closed.
Incoherent
words that this mind forms
at night where drunken sentences
are actually sober thoughts.
Abyssal
state that this mind goes through
at night where darkness and
silence slowly kills your soul.
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC