"ren" poems
A whisper floats into my ear
So soft that I can barely hear
Tearing me apart deep down inside
I just want it to end, and peace to reside
It offers power and darkness to me
How lost I am I just cannot see
Part of me begs to again find the light
But the greed overcomes and darkens my sight
I've lost who I was to fear and hate
And now I'm trapped and think its too late
Tears spring to my eyes as I lift them high
Seeking wisdom and answers that aren't based on lies
The mask fades, the lie I built
To block the pain and heart wrenching guilt
Looking at the cracked reflection of my face
All I see is a failure and a disgrace
A monster that I myself have created
Is now the very person to be hated
The choices spin around in my head
As I stand here now wishing I was dead
Could I give it all up and run away?
Or lose myself to evil and stay?
I let go of the light and embrace the dark
Crushing the old me leaving not a spark
The ember in the ashes eventually dies out
Leaving an empty shell full of doubt
Clutching my weapon I scream
Wishing it all was a dream
But it is real, I am real
And I just want it all to heal
Instead I stand here, taking deep breaths
No friend but my shadow who hasn't yet left
Inside it hurts but outside it sleeps
So I'll stand here again as it silently reaps
-Esther L. Krenzin-
-Roguesong-
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 2:55 PM UTC
Sa isang hardin ako ay may namataan
Isang dahong nakatungo at tila may dinaramdam
Matagal kong pinagmasdan subalit di ko maunawaan
Kaya naman nilapitan at nagsimula ng isang usapan….
Munting dahon, aking bungad, ikaw ata’y matamlay
Sukli nya’y ngiting may kahalong lumbay
At napansin ko ang pighati sa kanyang mata
Hanggang tuluyan nang umagos ang saganang mga luha…
At sinambit nya…
“Oh ang rosas na puno ng ganda
Lahat sa kanya ay nahahalina
Subaling akong palagi nyang kasama
Ni minsan di nabigyan ng importansya"
Dagdag nya...
"Ako’y nanliliit sa aking sarili
Lahat ng suporta, sa iba ay ibinahagi
Kay rosas, kay tangkay, sila ay aking tinulungan
Sa abot ng makakaya, sila ay aking dinamayan
Subalit sa malakas na ihip ng hangin
Dulot ng bagyong kayhirap pahupain
Tila yata akoy’ nag-iisa at nalulugmok
Ako ba’y pagkain lang ng uod na gutom?”
Oh kaibigan, akin na lang nasambit
Huwag kang bibitaw at higpitan ang yong kapit
Ang mundo ay di perpekto, ang laban ay di patas
Panalangin sa Taas, gawin **** sandata at lakas.
Kung ikaw ay susuko, tagumpay ba'y makakamtan?
Ang iyo bang paglisan ay kaligayahang inaasam?
Tumayo ka nang matatag at sa buhay ay lumaban
Ano ba't ang lumbay ay sadya ren paparam...
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 6:06 AM UTC
Aren't we all just American Psychos?
Many of us don't realize that we're all the same.
Everyone; we're all alike on the inside.
Racism, sexism, calling people gay, and so on...
It needs to STOP!
Can't you see we're our own worst enemy?
American Pyscho; that's what we are if we're
Not willing to change.
Peace; What is peace again? It's been
So long since we've had peace, but we can change.
Yes, we can! Stop with
Calling people out and acting tough!
Here and now, we're in this together.
One day, we'll live in peace again. *American ******
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 2:06 PM UTC
(Solitary Chamber. Heart breaking melodious music is flowing silently. Young Ren is looking pale, soliloquizing.)
Young Ren: Sweet Flance!
Can you hear me?
I do know you can never see me now;
But hear me --- my words at least!
Feel my heart that hangs on nothing;
Yet resting itself on my unrequited love.
Hear me! Do hear me!
Send thy spirit unto me awhile,
And hearken my silent words.
Dear Flance!
Thou must be now with thy partner
Breaking thy footprints with me once;
Yet ne'er am I angry with thee.
From him I should not take thee away;
Yet listen unto me awhile.
Dear Flance!
I loved thee not at the very first sight
Like Orlando and Rosalind ---
Orlando was a wrestler,
Rosalind was a fair lady.
Their love began at an arena in a contest ---
Rosalind in the guise of Ganymede,
Their love passed thro' rustic lands
Symbolizing the art of Nature,
Their love stirred the young hearts
With wonder and fancy.
Sweet Flance!
Romeo died of Juliet and Juliet of Romeo ---
Breaking endurance to chaos.
There was poison in their love.
Dear Flance!
Jealousy lingered in the fatal love
Betwixt Othello and Desdemona,
At night their love was born,
At night their love was dead
When blackened by the candle light.
Dear Flance!
Lysander loved Hermia
And sought fanciful beings
For their fanciful union.
Dear Flance!
Know you, Keats died of consumption?
His love for ***** Brown was limitless,
And so burst into tears.
Oh! No!
MY love for thee can never have comparisons.
Sweet Flance!
Blossomed my love for thee
When thou wert young,
When thou wert beautiful;
Yet it's not of Romeo's,
Of Othello's,
Of Lysander's,
Of Dante's,
Of Keats',
For they died of their love.
My love for thee be unrequited; yet ineffable.
You felt not my love; yet I cannot be Romeo.
Know you?
Romeo loved Juliet,
Juliet loved Romeo,
And so they died without love.
Loved I thy heart, not thee?
Love I thy heart, not thee?
And so,
We live in remembrance of each other.
Dear Flance!
Thou must be now living with thy partner
Rejoicing in his presence.
Can you think of me living myself.
Rejoicing in my thoughts of you?
Here am I in the air with wings waxed;
Yet I'll not fall down to fragments.
Know you?
I am to lead my life myself,
But with thoughts of you!
For
Loved I thee, still I love thee,
Ever I'll love thee.
(Young Ren sheds tears)
Sweet Flance!
My tears are not of my loneliness sans thee;
But born of bliss within me with thoughts of you.
(Curtain Falls)
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 11:38 AM UTC
the older generation
thinks we're all meth-heads,
ritalin-riddled serial killers,
serious ingesters
of buckets-of-blood thrillers,
they look at me funny
when I sag my pants
look at me funny
when I've got my girl in my arms
and her hands on my zipper
moving slowly
to the biggest dipper, too loud,
they say,
too loud,
too much cursing,
too much blood and gore,
too many games about getting money
and running over grannies to get more;
Ren and Stimpy,
and
Bert and Ernie,
two homos
that need to burn
for their sin,
the world is going
to hell in a handbasket.
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 7:40 PM UTC
The world was never going to end
in fire.
It was never thought to.
Now. Thunder comes on.
The raincoat boleros around the street.
Momentous,
One two slow slow one two. Earth splits
/ an avocado, molten core discarded.
In the southern hemisphere they are waving flags.
Complimentary colors crawl up the sky tiding in.
They are dancing.
Ba-cha
-ta,
Me-ren-gue.
Their hemisphere Charybidises,
trees genuflected.
Quiet. The puddles are sleeping.
In the north. The hemisphere has run aground.
It capsizes. All the bands are going
down playing.
Rain panics off the timpani
prisming.
The brass cherubs in the clouds.
The strings red shift.
At the equator,
an umbrella floats:
1 bird inside it.
She prays in single syllables. Help.
Please.
Quack!
Feb 22, 2011
Feb 22, 2011 at 3:10 PM UTC
Dad,
You don't get me,
You never have.
When I ran away,
Were you even sad?
Dad,
You wanted me gold,
I tarnished in your hands.
I fell through your fingers
Like grains of sand.
Dad,
You don't get me.
Especially not when
I told you to call me
Kylo Ren.
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 3:13 AM UTC
Hin und her in meinem Kopf
Verworrene Gefühle überall
Emotionales Chaos trifft es sehr
Warum ist Liebe gar so schwer?
Woran erkennt man Liebe?
Was ist gar ihr Sinn?
Wenn ich bei dir bliebe
Schmelze ich dahin?
Bin ich dir verfallen?
Oder spielt mein Herz mir einen Streich?
Unzählige Stimmen schallen
Meine Knie werden weich
Unzählige Male hab ich mich verliebt
Doch erlebte ich die Liebe nur zu selten
Kann ich mir sicher sein was mich umgiebt?
Oder schwebt mein Herz in and'ren Welten?
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 6:04 PM UTC
Yeah, I'm that ***** yeah, don't forget it, yeah.
Gold neck Tity, yeah, Lamborghini, yeah.
Bad ***** with me, yeah, she's sidity, yeah.
Got her hair fixed, yeah, kinda thick, yeah.
Shawty known to strip, yeah, for the ren, yeah.
Tryna do a split, yeah, oh **** yeah.
Can you do a split, yeah, on a **** yeah.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 10:27 PM UTC
The darkness in his eyes
A true reflection of his pain
Led away from the path of light
He truly had no gain
As he walked from his family
Never to return, he mourned
As he looked into his dying father's eyes
Pretended that he didn't see forgiveness
He's truly broken
Inside, just a shell
Just a mad dog without a leash
As he watched as his Father fell
His mask hides his youthful face
Hides it as if it's a mark of disgrace
His lightsaber is as unstable
As his emotions, running wild
Many joke, his heart is a fable
That he's merely a metal figure
Programmed for Snoke's doing
Nothing is secure
He cut off his path to the light
But there
Is still hope
Of redemption
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 4:24 PM UTC
Oversized clothes
Dresses galore
Both of them
Fit to one gender
Sports jerseys
Baggy shorts
I want those
but I'm a "girl"
Perky dresses
Lots of makeup
I'm told I must
Because I'm a "girl"
Anxiety fills me up
I need to be perfect
I need to be a daughter
I need to be a girlfriend
a wife
a mother
Why can't I be a child?
A lover?
A ren?
A human?
Why do you have to choose for me?
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 7:22 PM UTC
SometimesIlookoutofthewindow
And Iwo nder
Ifwe eve ndes
Erve this beau
tiful pla netw
Edidnothingtoearn,andtrytolooka
Tev ery thing
Alit tleb itdiffe
Ren tlyt hanI'd
Bee nta ught
AllmylifeonthiswonderfuloldEarth
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
Dotta swung and he missed
Time for him to cease and desist
After Ren went ballistic
Because he couldn’t resist
The allure of a battle
Using words like their fists
Landing blow after blow
Without a beat to assist
We witnessed a burial
An end to a reign
But all that king Dotta was..
Was a true royal pain
A husky, sad, clout chaser
Vanilla, quite plain
Who failed in his attempt
To perform; entertain
Ren showed his ferocity, his ability, his skills
He speared his first whale
Despite Dotta not having gills
But Ren gave him a lifeline
Without showing any ill will
Offering all he can eat
On a buffet filled with krill
One million subscribers
Sent to consume and digest
King Dotta’s music
Of which I’ve been unimpressed
But the message from Ren
Was really quite clear
As the words spilled from his lips
“A rising tide, lifts all ships”
Aug 6, 2023
Aug 6, 2023 at 5:21 AM UTC
du fik den af din mor og far
den dag du blev født
den dag du kom til verden
uskyldig og ren og lille
og uvidende
det var den røde tråd
meningen med dit liv
og de gav den til dig
så du kunne forlænge den
og slå mindeværdige knuder på den
og det gjorde du
i mange år
indtil han kom forbi
og efter flere års forlængelse (forelskelse)
klippede han den over
med sine skarpe ord
og den var i stykker
og du var i stykker
og meningen med dit liv
var i stykker
og selvom du var spejder
dengang du gik i børnehave
kunne ikke engang
den stærkeste ***** knude
binde den sammen
binde dig sammen
selvom du forsøgte ihærdigt
dagligt
men på din uniform
sad intet **** mærke
kun et bål mærke
og det brændte indeni
og han lod dig brænde
indtil den røde tråd var forkullet
sort
sort som natten
sort som dit sind
og du fik den af din mor og far
den dag du blev født
og du døde den dag
han tog den fra dig
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 8:36 AM UTC
Verden ligger i et sterilt samsurium af apati.
For mig er verden udenfor, og jeg er udenfor verden.
Tankefulde unge simplificeres af normer og repetitionens pragt.
Udenfor, står de
uforpligtende bagateller født i overspringshandlinger.
Med ren marmor under vinter-violette negle,
holder de deres blå sjæle i hænderne -
Tænker Soma-Sema
To fingre i halsen, kolde hænder, ødelagte glasknogler;
Nærmest spirituelt.
Er det sådan man gør udenfor?
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 3:04 AM UTC
på fredag
tømmer vi endnu
en papvin
og lægger vores
rene uskyld
i hænderne
på beskidte drenge
fylder
vores lunger
med røg
vores hjerter
med håb
og glemmer
at drømme
ikke varer evigt
som røgen pustes ud
forbliver håbet
selv efter han
har vasket sine hænder
er du plettet
og præcis
som din samvittighed
kan du ikke vaskes ren
du er ikke hel
du er i stykker
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 11:55 AM UTC
I have had to **** you dear
Deer in the forest
Woods of my life
It was the
Closest I'd ever been to love
A fleeting glimpse
Shadows about the grey tents
Words caught on a hook
That shouldn't have been spoke
Into the ears that we pierce
On the street below the balcony
Or something that was in the way
I'm tired of losing this battle
The enemy at the gates
Behind me is crying
Because I can't be saved
But,
I'm not afraid of the ghost
The ghost is not afraid of me
I am the ghost that you fear
You are the one
That I must **** dear
I hate it
The days in between
The milestones
That have been carved
Out of my bones
I hate it
When the shade hits my back
When can we go home?
I'll phone your best friend and
Tell her that I've always loved you
But her image has since disappeared
I lost you, out in the wilderness
The memory is not so clear
Anymore
Why didn't you come back?
Was his flesh enough to fill the hole
In your little life?
The cut across my neck
Bleeds and pours and sings for more
Of the taste of rust (iron blood)
From the knife
I once gave you there
So why don't you just **** me off, dear?
Like a deer in the forest
Hiding in the woods of my lie
The creator Is nauseous
I drank too much last night
Insomnia goes hand in hand with amnesia
What was I talking about?
Again. . .
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 11:45 AM UTC
Photograph by Michael J. Sullivan, 2010
Listen up, you little ***** and let me
teach you a thing or two. See this skull here,
poised and serene? How do you know it’s poised?
It’s dead, for Christ’s sake! The only thing it’s
poised on in the edge of this stump—“ye olde
dead tree” holding “ye old dead head.” He had
a name, you know—Yorick—I didn’t make
that up. I knew him; good friend of my mum’s.
This sword here could have been what ran him through,
you know. Coulda got him straight through the gut,
and you’re all sittin’ here admiring its
craftwork. It’s the fancy hilt, isn’t it,
the bright metal chasing its own tail in
golden loops. Warm yellow over cold steel,
that’s what you people like—spectacle, shine—
not dust and history, like Yorick over here.
You don’t mind if I smoke, do you? Only
thing these candles are good for, really. They’re
tallow—stinking, smoky fat made by Jen
on her weekends off. She doesn’t know much
about candles, but her Wench’s Special
Draft is the best mead made for this dung heap.
Anyway, I gotta piss. Leave Yorick
with your tips, and remember: what glitters
here isn’t gold, just paint over old age.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC
jeg føler mig lidt som glas
gennemsigtigt og skrøbeligt
og du jonglerer med mig
kaster mig op i luften
og griber mig igen
men jeg ved at du en dag
vil være ufokuseret og
taber mig
så jeg smadrer
jeg har aldrig troet på mennesker
der siger
jeg vil altid elske dig
for kærligheden er ikke en konstant
men minder i virkeligheden mere
om en ekspontitelfunktion
som bølger
og der skal arbejdes for at den kan
vokse
det er vel også derfor jeg ikke tror på
ægteskabsløftet
mest fordi jeg ikke stoler på kærligheden
jeg ved at den er utilregnelig og ustyrlig
men det jeg har mest lyst til er bare at forelske mig
helt vildt og ukontrolleret
men jeg tør ikke
når kærlighed ikke er en konstant følelse
men noget man skal kæmpe for
og er i konstant bevægelse
jeg er ikke sikker på at jeg er stærk nok
tvivlen på om der findes en derude
som tør kæmpe for mig
vokser i mine hjertekamre
og jeg er bange for at tillægge mine egne
følelser for dig værdi
for hvad nu hvis jeg tager fejl
og der rent faktisk findes en konstant kærlighed
at det måske er det jeg føler for dig?
tanken skræmmer mig mere end døden selv
som egentlig er et dårligt eksempel
fordi jeg altid har fundet døden
smuk og ren og fredfyldt
men måske vil jeg i min grav drømme
om et liv med dig som jeg aldrig fik
fordi jeg er rædselsslagen for at
elske
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 4:19 PM UTC
The gray cloudy sky scream(ing)s
Only icy clouds throw down their hail-on the earth-
To **** the green (belt) with their viole(n)t dance-
And (to )red(d) ( the) shadowy earth- still cries-we are alive-
Throwing up all its war(ren) shadows to the sky
To reach the per(im)manent heaven with their painful sacrifice.
The heaven strenuously may (h)eat the pain (through)
In silence- we are existent-we feel the pain-
The last remnants of the green may rustle in the leaves
Trying to soak into the rotten yellow.
The blue may (stage) whisper in the breeze,
Holding the memories of the past.
Voices from extra dimensions
(I live adding new dimensions to my life)
And psychedelic visions
May irreversibly modify the ( sixth) sense of the reality.
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 7:55 PM UTC
Se⋅ren⋅di⋅pit⋅y n. 1. The uplifting, seemingly never-ending weightlessness brought on by a beautiful event of pure happenstance. 2. When light hits one's face, esp. a friend or lover, in just the right way, and every aspect of one's inner beauty is displayed: lying in the morning sun / the ghost of curtains over faces / dust mote flurries around sleeping figures / or under the dim glow of decorative lights / and digital clocks reading 3:06 AM / exposed hearts, exposed minds / out on our sleeves / your inner beauty visible externally / to the world, to me / your face aflame with embarrassing thoughts / my face aflame with visible affection / or lying out under the Milky Way / under the Universe / constellations and bodies of memories hang above our heads / and watch us grow from millions of years in the past.
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 12:23 AM UTC
Bodhisattva
Boundless energy
Eternal Light
Gone beyond all fear
Form is emptiness
Emptiness is form
Buddham saranam gacchami
Dhammam saranam gacchami
Sangham Saranam gacchami
I have come to help all beings
And deep inside
I have the most wondrous heart
I must cultivate Ren
Human heartedness
Virtuosity
Know the male, but keep the female,
Being the universal river-valley,
Being the the universal river-valley,
One has the eternal virtue [te] undivided
And becomes again as a child
They tried to banish me
No No No
Boundless light,
Boundless energy
Ten-thousand eyes
Never tire of seeing
I will return
I must help all sentient beings
In giving
I will receive the greatest gift!
Buddham saranam gachammi
Dhammam saranam gachammi
Sangham saranam gachammi
Love
It's love
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 6:35 PM UTC