"reoccurrence" poems
Meditating under the waterfall the cold feeling thoughts become to clear to question emotion at all.
The sun blaze , is beauty to a dumb face, I'm the known race that's no race, as the moon rays interpermeates my physical state , I reminisce the days i've gazed into space.
Recalling the reoccurrence of the light rays shifting, those with glasses must've missed it. Colors worth the risk. Concentrate on the 7 frequency rates on the disk. Close circuit surveillance "Ahchosi....... can you show us your face? How quaint. To visit my state and match how my spirit elevates. I calmly remark " you're late"
I'm so out of place. I wish i can be more open but i have to do it all in slow motion. It makes me feel broken.
Successfully rehabilitating myself.
Now that's what i call help.
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 10:43 AM UTC
you are the echo in places after everyone's sound has gone.
you are the reluctant resonance in air between breaths.
you are the leaving that's overstayed its welcome.
you are the racket in deprivation of company.
you are the uproar after music has ceased.
you are the chord eternally reappearing.
you are reverberations of want, of lack.
you are sweet tinnitus in every hush.
you are every absent reoccurrence.
you are epitomes of entirety.
your gale still lingers.
but you do not.
you do not.
you do.
not.
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 12:15 PM UTC
It's just one night of acceptance
Giving it all away for an hour
But things end too soon
With reassurance of reoccurrence
But it meant nothing in the end
And I was okay with that
Until the next day
When I thought of it endlessly
And I started my search
To discover the real him
After all he was so interesting
Falling faster and faster
Down the pit of infatuation
Hoping to receive the call
That was once promised
Because he was good
At giving me what I wanted
Even if it was only for an hour
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
I watched how violence manifests in the hearts of men.
When I walked passed a spider,
Resting by the entrence of my home.
He had no quarrel with me
Even when i took his sun without say,
Nor was he scared of this great figure
That he would scour away.
It was I who was gripped by fear,
Imagining the unimaginable.
In my minds eye
I had already seen my death at the hands of a spider.
My ignorance had lead my imagination
Into a great series of unfortuitous events.
Without knowing, without seeing for my self
It began
With thinking if I leave this door open,
He will enter.
When he enters,
He will make his way to my bedroom unseen.
And when the night takes me away,
He will make sure my soul never returns to this body.
This is when my fears soon turned to hate and anger,
Spurred on by the fear of death
I had no problem sending this creature to the great unknown
That I was scared of.
My superiority in statue,
My enduring strength to **** without the need to feed
And this consciousness I possess to differentiate between victim and transgresser,
Is the proof and worth
Of my life being spared and yours buried beneath the rubble
Allowing worms to feed off your decaying matter.
I will not be reduced to such insignificance
And be shamed by this inferior peasant with no home.
I had seen how fear had contorted my imagination
Influenced my thoughts to vibrate at a low frequency
Of; hate, anger, fear, doubt and anxiety.
With the aid of memory,
What I had conceived vividly in my mind
About how this creature wanted to belittle my existence
Now latched on to feelings from the past
That also vibrate at a low frequency.
The trauma I had to endure
From shame and moments of embarrasment,
Was the great encourager in killing
Preventing a reoccurrence of this pain in the future.
Even though he should succeed in my hyperthetical death
Where I would no longer exist to bare this worry,
I was still scared of what people might think of me after death.
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 6:24 AM UTC
pick one out of billions
and stick to it
like spider bait
in the spider web
although you never know
when you’re caught
until it’s too late
and you’re in
too deep
the heart fills
with betrayal
and deception
or worse
the heart fills
with truth
when our beliefs
are based on lies
it’s hard to comprehend
and/or overcome
the ego gets scratched
or the connection
gets snipped
and finally,
a plumage of misconceptions
is what we’re deduced to:
that something is lost
that something has failed
but when the perspective
is turned upside down
and the lens adjusts itself
it reveals that something
is gained and/or returned
and this time
with a fresh start,
a new beginning,
a better outlook
maybe a lesson can be learned?
maybe a mistake can be avoided
by it’s reoccurrence?
maybe?
but listen,
I’m no love guru,
couples therapist,
marriage counselor
or divorce attorney
I can only guarantee that
there is another pair of
sweaty meat sacks
encased in decaying flesh
waiting for you
somewhere out there,
aching to ruin your life
all over again.
Apr 24, 2025
Apr 24, 2025 at 3:39 PM UTC
Is the dream finally broken?
Can not be deciphered, the writing of destiny!
Then, wandering towards the stark reality.
In purity of soul, remembering Him,
Determined determination.
In receiving the order,
No more pointless crossings.
What a lust called!
All are illusory, all are mortal,
When the day terminates, all will be covered in deep darkness.
No more the temptation of hypocrisy,
No more, inevitable bleeding of the heart,
O Indestructible!
Permeate my heart,
Unconditional return to You.
Jul 14, 2022
Jul 14, 2022 at 5:22 AM UTC
Imagine if the sky were always orange and red
If it was a flaming sunset all the time
If the cloud's silver linings resembled halos
I think this the reoccurrence of beautiful things turning ordinary
I think this is the end of what once was a beginning
You see we often take things for granted
Things that do not last forever
I say to myself that nothing lasts forever often
I look at you and there is the picture frame understanding
You are a sunset I sometimes forget to step outside and see
Paint you on my walls to be a reminder of beauty
I often wonder if the sky were always orange and red
If it was a flaming sunset at all time
In the clouds silver linings resembled halos
I suppose if that were to be the case at hand
Then we may marvel and take pictures of the sky when it was blue
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 3:28 PM UTC
Bitter heart aches can last through lonely rides
I know the exact feeling my darling
I've endured them for my entire life
The calls for eternal understanding
Memories window smiles at the past
And over time I'm reminded again
That the more you look back the less life lasts
Searching for reoccurrence serves the end
a lost love travels cruelly through the night
All along hoping that I would decide
Too much of anything leaves some to waste...
A rotten taste too foul to describe
She's over the shaded eclipsing moon
And our love has come and gone far too soon
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 4:38 AM UTC
Cotton foam grips
the shores edge
washing away, but
leaving its mark
upon the damp sand,
gone quickly, but
soon arriving once again
to repeat its
previous motion.
Funny, the relevance.
Some people will forever
remain the same,
just as the tide will
never change.
They will come
only when they need you.
Simply leaving once satisfied.
Certain motions will
always remain the same.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 10:30 PM UTC
I feel so deeply
For everything that is fleeting.
Permanance is never
A reoccurrence in my life.
I have adapted to this being
In my bones and my flesh.
I am the one that's fleeting
Forever wondering
What it is I have left.
I float through my days
As you count your blessings.
There's nothing worse
Than forgetting to make memories.
I feel so deeply
For everything that is fleeting.
I still am left to question
Why am I always the one leaving.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 4:26 AM UTC
10 words
~a constant reoccurrence throughout my day~
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 5:44 AM UTC
I hope you go where you wanted to go and find the peace and freedom you seek.
.
.
The mind is meek.
.
.
One speaks,
.
.
so that all can conceive.
.
.
.
These are rough times where the paradox be.
.
.
the separate-self finds others who are separate and share in that so called “wealth”.
.
.
.
Not you.
.
.
.
Not I.
.
.
I remember the times.
.
and yet we are content alone.
.
.
He and she had no archetype they just play the role of one when their vibrations were low.
.
.
.
He saw her like no other, .
.
.
.
Like the divine mother.
.
.
.
as if it was just him and her existing in this universe of contradiction and all it’s grandeurest moderation, they went against the currents and all that discourages transmigration.
.
.
.
I’ve watched you from a far and I miss every moment of it.
.
.
Guess I wasn’t raised to be civic,
.
.
We need no image just to help paint the image for others.
.
.
We’re just here,
.
.
and you take what you want from it.
.
.
I hope your in peace and find your brothers and sisters like you always told me you wanted to do.
.
.
Our duty,
.
.
to express words and not take anything too seriously.
.
.
I hope you’re happy together and can see how much you were loved.
.
.
.
Loved even by those who have never met you.
.
.
Maybe one day we’ll see each other again.
.
.
For in this life I will give everything I have, just for the purpose of giving.
.
.
Our thoughts are like vehicles in the desert.
.
.
We do not know where they came from or why,
.
.
it just needs a discerning eye.
.
.
.
If you find yourself in the dark, I’ll send you light and love to help you find your way.
.
.
Doves fly away above us, as we are bored of its reoccurrence. .
.
Is it strange that we seem content to others and yet our emotions are stuck by these under currents?
.
.
Do not get lost by a person’s surface...
.
.
.
Get lost with the wanderlust of their deepness.
.
.
If I die,
:
please tell my children I’m still alive.
.
Speaking through a person.
.
Speaking through a poem.
.
Involved in their ‘knowing.’
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 4:47 AM UTC
Reoccurrence; oh do I deserve it's again? Of love,
of time, of hope, of faith, of promise, and the beauties
of my yesterdays...
Reoccurrence; oh do I deserve it's again? Of grace,
of joy, of peace, of forgiveness, and the dreams of
my former slumbers...
Reoccurrence; oh do I deserve it's again? Of you,
of when we once loved, of our youth, and the desire
of a forever...
Of us; in the seasons of summer. The warmth of knowing
your bright smile. Of the spring; in the skips of steps towards
a future.
Do any of which; ever reoccur as like memories... Or are we
just moments; soon to be forgotten..
_Will I reoccur in those memories..._
Apr 3, 2022
Apr 3, 2022 at 8:26 AM UTC
**** I'm listening to bright eyes again
I want to lay on crumbling church steps
with yr big white t shirt hanging loosely on my shoulders &
reaching my knees.
There are two bruises on my knees
Almost identical,
I think it means something,
but I'm not completely sure what that is
yet.
there are people walking on
the empty streets: looking -
I do the same.
I think we're looking for meaning, or something close to that.
I fly to Portland, I think I might find it there.
on the way I look at the Rocky Mountains,
they seem to hold infinity .
And I can see the curves of the roads,
And the rivers,
it reminds me how everything is connected somehow.
i wonder what the roads will lead me to.
Quinn and Madison said they are moving to the clouds
to escape from the world.
I look for them in the sky,
I don't see them, but I know they are up there,
somewhere.
my roads do not lead to clouds any time soon.
I don't find it fair.
but I'm afraid of heights anyways.
I'll conquer my fear one day,
just not today.
everybody I know seems like they want to get out.
whether it's to Oregon or the clouds,
they know it's better somewhere.
the people who are content with staying scare me the most.
they think this is the best
they will ever get.
they spend their weekends in basements, doing the same **** they did last week.
that's not for me.
I don't know where my road will go,
or where I will be twenty years from now,
but it does not end here.
There is a whole world outside of Fishers, Indiana.
this town is not how real life works.
there are dreams I've slept through
and forgotten-
but leaving is a reoccurrence.
The air in Oregon smells like pine trees
and everybody I meet
take effort to get to know me.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 10:11 AM UTC
Do you know what is like to be haunted?
Every time I see a another pretty face it does not Change I just see the one that got away from me
This image. Is a haunting image. That makes you realize that you can't fight your emotion
This reoccurrence has a pattern once you seen it turns me into a world I missed.
You know you missed something when reminded of it
I am not afraid it has shown who really is that dream you feel every single night
A reoccurence of a image is imprinted into my heart and will always be patient for that chance that one can dream about
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 7:09 AM UTC
Irony brought to its greatest extent,
the rain drops race down the window
to join the growing puddle.
Raised eyebrows and a voice layered in
smug confidence is shattered
by the hopes of whispered reassurances.
A reoccurrence, Yeats’ falcon flying
ever farther from its bellowing falconer,
whose advice was once heeded but
is defiantly unheard now.
Nietzsche’s ever repeating cycles,
the same lives lived 100 times,
past voices whispering script softly
into my calmly waiting ears.
Meager fears and joy draped in hollow blue,
the dance of body and mind with no metronome
to give a cue, no orchestra to hold its tune.
Clap clap, tap tap, and resounding boom.
I grasp the gilded knocker and gently rap,
respectable at first, for courtesy,
and then more assertive, social conduct leaving
and desperation filling as I bang on the door,
painfully aware of it’s glossy paint with each hit,
and then I am kicking the door, trying to break through,
pleas rasping out with each lunge,
Until I give up,
And slide slowly down the wall
and cradle my head into my hands.
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 4:19 PM UTC
It´s amusing how some people are never there when you need them. You try to hide the fact that you are lonely by calling people’s attention, but they still seem not to realize why you are doing it. Should you feel hurt? Maybe misunderstood? For why would they look at this calling as a reoccurrence when you have never intended for this to be the case? Had you maybe done so without realizing, and the perspective of yourself is in fact, completely wrong?
From what I remember I have never really been the type that just pity’s herself, or even desperately calls at others by sharing secrets. Of course, always my own, but still. It is a clear lack of attention, and it´s leading to complete unhappiness. I don’t really know who my true friends, or lovers in a sense are, neither am I willing to discover. Yet, I still suffer from it’s staggering punishments.
That looking at your phone for hope - an anonymous love perhaps - which realistically never calls to your door. But you remain vivid on the past, that power you used to have.
You know, and by all means you do, that you are out of control - wish to change it, but continue being grabbed by stronger forces.
You think you are too smart, don’t you? Has it ever occurred to you why you’d think that? Have you at least accomplished something, gone through with any project?
Stop and re-think. You are the remainders of that potential. Everyone invested on you, and when you went out to the market, you proved wrong. You are not worth it, and everyone knows that!
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 11:32 PM UTC
Said I'd find love again
**Nobody mentioned the
reoccurrence of the pain**
*That's why I will
love Nobody forever.*
**only Nobody is worth
the sacrifice**
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 3:24 AM UTC
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Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 12:24 PM UTC
every day the same
getting so accustomed to the mundane
engaged to the repetition
starting each day optimistic
and slowly remembering the sandpaper numbness
everything is the ******* same
reoccurrence- this deja vu
i feel like this has happened before
the past feeling like a foggy memory
i cant remember
ending the day exhausted
run out of steam
cant even pick up my head
my structure cracking from the weight
feels like my body might just give out
fold into a million pieces
and land on the ground
a perfect pile of skin and bone
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 9:03 PM UTC
I see your parched lips
like that of a dying rose,
the small cracks forming
are like an indentation of their own.
You speak in that same tone they once called me,
as if it isn't patronizing
to be treated as a child,
despite having adult skin.
This treatment makes me wiser
of the cruelty of love
or even the fear in thinking it exists.
The lost luster,
apparent just in this one bad day
and I remember the reoccurrence of rain,
with its strange heat smacking my face
I wore the same look you have now.
The feeling of leather,
the hurt of words,
an admission in not knowing what one was doing even in their creation.
It is not a need,
to water our own flowers that wilted so long ago.
I have established their presence,
but we still try.
Life blossoms through you,
those opportunities
the talent,
the potential
and urge to believe
you can trust somebody
to do better than you’re doing yourself.
There it is,
this beautiful symptom
and these gardens the cause.
The same thirst
we all died from as a sprout,
same blood we shared
being clipped too soon and
placed in a vase.
Jun 7, 2022
Jun 7, 2022 at 3:11 PM UTC
We can talk
for hours
about life
the sky
and everything in between
all the while
I’m in admiration for your mind
your mind is only on one thing
the end goal
you score
and waltz out
I’m left here
empty
and wondering
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 12:48 AM UTC