"repelling" poems
A dream once was had-- for two to be equal,
For this is the land of the free,
Free for you; free for me.
Often we hide our faces, as if we were the ones shamed.
Instead of standing up with another,
Repelling awful names.
Silence has a power, often more than sound.
Silence tunes your true voice,
Silence shakes the ground.
Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.
Young students go to school, all shades of different skin.
We all threw rocks and names,
Wanting equality was their sin.
Did it matter? Their race was who they were.
A few rose voices,
Others’ silences were fists furled.
What does it matter, of what color their skin?
Here comes another battle.
Here it comes again.
Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.
If one was gay, would he not be a being?
Should you let others mock?
Does silence stop the grieving?
No, the pain is still there, still loud.
The silence is louder.
Silence is all around.
The names, the hate, all can be repressed.
Silence is the fermata.
Silence has the stress.
Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.
What is the solution, to this lack of sound?
Simple.
Make it loud.
A word of hope, ringing upon new ears.
A word of sympathy,
Erasing all the fear.
A smile, a hug, a song, a dream,
All to be had,
All to be seen.
Shout against repression, against hate.
For we are all equal,
All the same final fate.
Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.
Stand together, as one. Make the stand.
Stop silence, create music,
Ring it through the land.
With your words create harmony, create rhyme.
Create thirds and fifths,
Stronger than the flow of time.
Why must we stand alone? Aren’t we all brothers?
Did our ancestors fight?
Protecting our dear mother?
Hand in hand we’ll rise, voices speak as one.
Cruelness and evil gone,
Silence on the run.
Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.
If we do not help each other, then who will assist?
Together we will rise,
Or fall together into the abyss.
Gay or straight, or be it black or white,
Whether you believe in god,
We’re all human, right?
We all feel, we all hear and see.
We can all make words,
We all breathe.
Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.
So why must we be made different, called by our opinions or race?
Why must we be judged,
Simply by our face?
No more, I shout. No more the hate.
No more discrimination.
This is our fate.
No more injustice, social and the silence.
No more acts of anger.
No more senseless violence.
Let brothers protect brothers, let friends be friends,
For we are only human.
The same mortal end.
Let sisters love their sisters, let strangers be strangers no more.
For we are only human.
Our heart is our core.
Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.
I will stand alone, if that is what it takes.
I will raise my voice,
Singing with quick haste.
I will be the difference, the smile to the weak.
I will help protect,
Helping shield the meek.
I will celebrate the differences, that make you and me.
I will turn the lock,
My voice will be the key.
Soon my friends will join, creating a choir of light,
Singing against the hate,
Harmonies strike the night.
Silence will not be my tool, silence is not my friend.
I will make my voice count.
I will make this hate end.
Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 8:54 PM UTC
A slow sun
Peeps over the horizon
The golden dawn
Joins the lovers in
Their warmest embrace
Promise of
The most perfect day
Offered with reverence
From God Herself
Before the daydream
Can even begin
A swift hand
Snaps the blind shut
A not so casual escape
Towards the cliff edge
Startling the curious bluebirds
That were beginning to gather
Vanish does the dawn.
With caution
Light fingers trace the earth exposed
Cracked
Repelling all offers of relief
Regret overwhelming
The warmth of the sacred center
Evaporates rapidly
Releasing a sigh
Light and heavy
In every way
She retreats
As once again
She is reminded
That he is not
A morning person
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 3:24 PM UTC
I see pictures in my head.
Me with a magnet embedded in my stomach.
Repelling or attracting certain types of people.
A man walking the New York streets
Concerned over his ****** addicted brother.
I see viking ships sailing to protect their homeland
From dragons and crop plight.
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 9:50 AM UTC
A repelling sensation
Permeation of sound
Or temperature
Impossible
A moment, a day
Eternity
Organs slow, pumping
Softly, so as not to awaken the real
Vulnerable and courageous
Becoming a partnership between a drip of fear
And the end, arriving as
Seas fill ridges and valleys,
Crevices of corpses
A new bite on each blade of
Crumbling spirits
Pickling at each span of one's own whisper
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 11:22 AM UTC
Happiness is an empty street
And a fast car.
Happiness is a clean, cold pool
You plunge into on a hot day.
Happiness is someone in your bed
Who’s gone in the morning
If you don’t want company
Or who stays if you do.
It’s someone who is happy to read the paper
Or take a hike with you.
It’s not worrying what others think
About you and your beliefs
And the wisdom to know who counts.
Happiness is strength,
Enough to fight the world
Or luxuriate in things gone well.
Happiness is attracting and repelling
Without having to try.
Happiness is a an aching fist
And an attacker’s black eye.
Happiness can be a warm gun,
Depending who gets hit.*
Happiness is not waiting for love,
Then falling in love in seconds.
It is knowing that you are fine
With or without a vow,
Yet being able to say “yes”,
When lightning strikes
And “no” when it’s just a cloud.
Yet happiness is not being sure
And bathing in uncertainty,
Of the pleasure in mystery.
Happiness is loving, faults and all,
An intensity so focused
That you’d gladly die for the one
Who was sent by some mixture
Of sunlight and shade,
On an ordinary afternoon,
Happiness is his body in yours,
His sweat on your skin in summer,
And body heat on cold nights.
Happiness is loving a little boy
Who looks like both of you
And knowing that love can transfigure
Time, exceed itself and encompass
More than one.
Happiness is contentment
In realizing how much you’ve had
And say you’ll feel rewarded
When your random life is done.
Happiness is the legend they tell
About you when you are gone;
The feeling is theirs and maybe yours.
Happiness is knowing that, if you go too far,
That there is no heaven or hell,
Or if there is,
Then anyone can play guitar.
September 9, 2020
Nov 9, 2020
Nov 9, 2020 at 1:08 PM UTC
On a vehicle bed I voyage, wearing
headphones which lead the way.
Repelling neighbors screams, these jolting sounds travel through my body, breaking locks and knots.
Unraveling the fabric across time and space.
Is there anybody out there that feels the music flow sensitively ?
I enter myself more deeply, I lose myself to the voices and words of chemistry.
I lay in ecstasy frequencies.
Becoming one with musical melodies.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 3:45 PM UTC
white world in wild winds
the one fair sun repelling
when Persephone rose
#dperez
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 11:19 AM UTC
Why are people intentionally cruel and malignant?
Are they too blind to mistake their Achilles’s heel for their forte?
Or do they intentionally enjoy obliterating anything that comes their way?
Indubitably, reeling into their self-destruction and collapse as the roof caves.
Repelling any benevolence into their lives,
They will close all doors with their narrow minds.
Atrociousness will prevail and set forth unfathomable tongues of rhyme.
Seeking insatiable supremacy governing in disguise.
Clearly oblivious to the detrimental exploits they expose,
They will lead a life that is solely self-imposed.
Cultivating an environment of animosity is not astute you see,
People will always revolt and eventually be set free.
Unless you morally evolve and realize you have wronged,
You will embark on a journey that will negatively consume your soul.
It begins with your physical state, depleting with every irrational action you make.
Ultimately, deteriorating your body into an anemic vegetable state.
Reeking of insecurities through the infusion of wretchedness and despair,
your life will begin to turn inside out transforming into an eternal torment of misery and hell.
However, it's never too late to change your tyrannical direction.
It's only compassion, empathy, and altruistic love that will be your salvation.
By: Michael M. De La Fuente
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 12:12 AM UTC
What is your touch?
It is the physical sensation of electromagnetism repelling our atoms,
It's the chain reaction set off through my nervous system,
Culminating in my cortex, where it is comprehended as your touch.
*In dim streetlight through your window,
With just a crescent of your face illuminated.
With your soft eyes, and memories of our backpacking trip mixing in
Like honey mixes with warm tea, or coffee.
With ***** brown curls around your head like a halo.*
Still, what is your touch?
It is like a ripple through me, and it ripples out into the world
It is more present in my action every day
As you take down my walls
As your lips send soothing down to my core
As you make me believe
In love
Again.
It is everything that went into making you,
No better concoction
Has ever been brewed.
And the way that you move
Makes little eddies of awe that captivate my eyes,
They cannot move.
So you see,
It's not hard to convince myself
That your touch is everything.
Two ends of the universe,
You're setting me free
That anything happened at all
Was as great a miracle
As your touch is to me
It's giving me shivers
And melting my heart--
There is nothing in this world like your touch.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 1:17 AM UTC
We run through golden drops of sunlight
with reminders tied around our wrists
memories in baskets of woven wind
Tomorrow chases us
as we chase yesterday
The synchronicity of our steps
becomes the rhythm of time
lost in the streets of reality
while navigating maps of wonder
our lives are repelling forces
that now face the immobility
of our desire for freedom
so what's left? Besides you
running toward this morning sky
and me, sinking in a shallow sea
of words and puzzles, that time built for
you and I
Feb 20, 2022
Feb 20, 2022 at 12:32 AM UTC
Everyone has a habit.
Mine is biting my nails until I start to taste my fingers.
Everyone has a habit.
Mine is falling in love to quickly, like a clumsy school girl who always falls into her crushes arms, just to be dropped
Everyone has a habit.
Mine is getting rejected like a credit card that has been maxed out.
Everyone has a habit.
Mine is always saying the wrong thing. When ever I talk to a girl I become my secret identity : loser boy! My one power is repelling women away quicker than the flash runs around a shopping mall with a Visa card .
Everyone has a habit.
Mine is brushing my hair until it almost looks like something that I could love, my hair is a chain that links me to my skin color, like a slave hooked to an auctioneers stage. So I try to brush away my skin like getting rid of thick curls will change my heritage.
Everyone has a habit.
I have this really ****** habit of never being happy. I always pick apart things and find some reason to hate myself. Im always to tall, to black, to stupid. I can't be happy for long because when I do I destroy myself like an evil villains plot when he presses the self destruct button because he's lost confidence in his plan.
My biggest habit is smoking cigarettes made of sadness, and allowing depression to infect the rest of my body like terminal cancer. I can't recall if I smoke a pack a day anymore, it's a part of my everyday life. With every meal, movie or social interaction, I need a drag of sadness. There's this girl though, her smile is a nicotine patch, her voice is a message from my dr saying "we've found a cure, for your depression."
Now i can put down the pack.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 3:44 AM UTC
Your path is well worn
Like the old Indian trails still visible in winter
Your life has left a wake of possibilities
Its ripples, forever spreading – wide, firm, unencumbered, vast
To think of autumn and feel the evening chill for
You are embedded in my every thought
Anger, love, discontent, beauty, helplessness, ecstasy
I am ready to find my cliff edge
To spread my arms and leap
Knowing the perfection of gravity and its consequences
I fear that our entanglement has been broken
Magnets, repelling with the same polarity
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 8:00 AM UTC
Injection of love has no limits,
Diminishes bad habits, only traces of a worthy candidate.
We ride the wave of feelings and serenade our ears to the rhythmic beats of our hearts.
How often do the least get rewarded, unseen and unblemished by the horror of life.
This world is paved with gold, pity those treasures are covered by things stale and old.
But not this love...it awakens the soul and traces back the lies we were told.
Capture my runaway train of thought and reign my wishes,
Drowning in my blushes, if words were permanent and memories paintings.
They would create what's never seen...write a story using the strokes of colour displaying my thoughts.
This pie in the sky feeling is blowing up the dust off my feet,
Keep my eyes smiling and inspiring me to always appear neat...spit in the face of defeat,
For after brokenness comes something sweet.
It's me again...leaving behind what was and forgetting there is such a thing as pain.
We keep moving, this love keeps sowing, and unaware of the growth underground, we keep growing.
I love this love. It looks appealing...something out of your dreams which comes alive before your eyes.
It looks great and fun, anticipating excitement and never being out done.
Time...I picture it sitting in a corner with its legs crossed and watching from a distance. It knows when and even know and even beyond the now.
The human heart carries so much...how it can carry hate and love together is hard to imagine.
How does it do it...carry such strong repelling emotions yet still survive...I choose the latter.
There is no darkness in it nor is there despair...
See when you let love take you...you welcome a gentle peck from the heavens.
It warns your soul and melts the concrete that had engulfed the heart...now finally you can hear your soul mates knock.
Laughter and long walks, sunsets and crazy talk....
This image might not be for everyone, but love invites everyone.
I love love...it sees no faults, just purity on the eyes of its viewer.
It hurdles you when the world batters you...keeps you sain.
How can I not love love, when it rescued me in my most deepest and brutal pain.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 7:43 AM UTC
it was the
summer
of 13
when a city
consumed in a
Cronut crazed
heat wave
amped
the tenderloin
slicing the underbelly
of Hell's Kitchen
packing meat for
Russian oligarchs
pouring fistfuls
of petrol rubles
down the
thirsty gullets
of glutinous
developers
their distended
bellies welling
with aching
avarice
from an
extended
stay at an
All You Can Eat
zero interest
smorgasbord
courtesy of
Uncle Sam’s Diner
somewhere off the
West End
getting fat
on the land
reclaimed
and rebuilt
on the dust
and detritus
of an expired
Great Society
Bloomie's metropolis
rising on the rubble
of razed neighborhoods....
the vertical leaps
shooting ever upward
the heady windows
framing portraits
of endless replication
offering the amenities
of the vain comfort
found in ghettos of
soulless high rises
and the billowing
gray perspective
of blanched out
street cafes
brewing $9 lattes
and big box
boutiques busy
busking the
latest rage
of sweat repelling
yoga mats and
wearable apps
America’s Mayor
Giuliani paved the way
he arrested all
the squeegee men
confiscated their Windex
dumped it down
the sewers and filled all
vacancies at Rikers
a year after Sandy
rolled up the Hudson
breaching the banks
of West Street
licking the streets
clean of urban
flotsam the
surging boom
bloomed
Bloomie bankrolled
a red carpet
for his global
fraternity of
plutocrats
unleashing a
tsunami of
shekels
washing away
the fading
memories of
Captain Sully’s
cool headed
lunch pail
heroism proving
that 727’s can
walk on water
was now passe
Lou Reed
left town
the wild side
monetized by
the belching
banality of
Urban Hipsters
millennial
babes in toy land
embarked on an endless
shopping spree
where credit limits
never expire and
giddy narcissism
greased with entitlement
orders up room service
as the next course
in this endless
movable feast
Music Selection
Philip Glass
The Hours
9/8/13
NYC
jbm
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
I got this glittery, ruby-red, smudge-proof lipstick the other day
and I really have to say technology is what separates us from the apes.
Well, technology and hair.. and.. - ok, let’s not dwell on the ape thing.
Remember when lipstick smeared like news-print? Well, neither do I - it was one of those old-timey things you hear about somewhere like phone-booths, CDs and smart republicans.
What about the young teenage girls who aren’t supposed to wear lipstick - who put it on, in the morning, at their locker, at school only to discover - seconds before their mom picks them up - that it's practically non-removable? Try hiding your lips from your mom.
I want breath-freshening, pizza flavored, jerk-repelling, morning-after-pill lipstick - that glitters, irresistably, like cotton candy ***
snort If men wore lipstick I’m sure we’d have all that by now.
Dec 6, 2021
Dec 6, 2021 at 8:26 AM UTC
I stared East, directly into eyes of Ouranos
The Water Bearer, in her flowing robe, stood
Beaming like a new Mother at his Left hand
Andromeda, angry and ready to do battle on his right
Screaming forth with great fury
On a collision course with glory
Andromeda wields his fiery sword!
We are but particles in this drama.
Incapable of defending our existence
Attracting and repelling each other
As if we are of some great importance.
I, you, us, we, them...
all of us who are here,
have come,
or will ever be
combined
Are but the blink of an eye in this,
The Ultimate Drama.
Our Stars will dance the dance
And read the script as it was taught them.
The Tiny Audience already knows how it ends.
There really is no, “maybe...”
Or, “Well, it depends.”
Oct 6, 2012
Oct 6, 2012 at 7:30 PM UTC
Oh wasted talent, neglected excellence,
how you enter the light every day, always leaving a black abyss
full of attitude, and rude remarks, offensive words that sting
long after you’ve crept back into your world of tenebrous isolation
we feel the effects, like a wave of negativity
you position yourself south of everyone comfortably north
repelling love, and understanding, but you’re not lonely
No you’ve found the ultimate alternative,
An imitation reality, like McDonald’s food,
Never quite able to equal greatness, nothing worth praise, almost a waste
A great façade, a fake
Your glossy eyes and lethargic mannerisms tell all
Higher than life, Psh you don’t need us!
But don’t you know? Weren’t you told?
There’s a better way to get high,
why not… … take a drag of the cigarette of friendship,
or a hit of creativity?
These things will far surpass the boundaries of ecstasy
But no,
you sit
and you sleep
senses dulled
eyes glued shut
you reside complacent in a prison to which only you hold the key!
Don’t you know the greatness you could be?
I do because I can see, past the cloudy eyes,
beyond the stinging comments,
I can see the successful well educated man you continually refuse to be.
It hurts and pains me every day getting up from my seat taking the world away,
and on the desk where you used to sit,
is a pile of class work and lessons, that you call ********
stop now, before the poison penetrates too deep,
save the dying man,
the long list of what you could be
times are tough and temptation is hard to fight,
just remember that salvation is close and it is in sight,
Ask for help and you shall receive,
let in the light and shut out the fog,
not one inky hint should remain,
time is running low, and faith is hard to find….
just once, sincerely try to open your eyes,
take advantage of the time that you have left
because when this years over,
it will be time well spent.
Mar 12, 2010
Mar 12, 2010 at 10:40 AM UTC
A leaf caught upon a breeze
Spinning in one place,
As if the earth was
Repelling,
Shunning,
Dancing
Upon gravities whims
I watch hypnotised by this
Dancing leaf,
I asked if in need of help
But its words were but silence
Spinning,
Caressed,
Flowing
With the delicate movments
Granted by the breeze,
I stepped closer to see this natures dance
And upon silken thread did it hold tight,
"Never falling to earth"
Hanging,
Suspended,
Graceful
Movements, its time may come to fall
But for now it dances upon silken thread
Dancing within the breathe of the gentle breeze.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC
I Dreamed of Peace
I dreamed of peace
where games cannot touch my saddened heart;
where the winters spray of discontent cannot
make my blood cold, cannot make my marrow
ache and my inner force limp wounded to the gray
and weeping bank.
I dreamed of peace
where fire words shot to take me down
miss their target and fall harmlessly in joyous fields
of ripened corn, standing strong, smiling, repelling
all the pointed barbs; whose yellow husks cannot be pierced
but in reflecting provide a nourishment so replete
the archers arm is wearied by the load.
I dreamed of peace
where no longer do I wake at night
seeking reassurance from apparitions that their calling
means no harm;
where the raven sitting on the drooping branch
is not waiting for my soul’s ascent;
where the soot covered face peering from the bracken
is not the axe man arrived to take me home.
I dreamed of peace
where the fire in my brain is quelled
by knowledge, accomplished thoughts of reason and
not prone to dissatisfaction;
where thirst is quenched in rivers so deep
my dive can never touch or scrape the sides and
in whose fear I need not fear;
where my essence is left untouched , my spirit not assaulted
by ego and forced appraisal.
I dreamed of peace
where false disinterest lies split and gaping
and hypocrisy oozes its puerile bile across cracked and
concrete stagnant floors;
where beggars no longer assault my passing
with arms outstretched and hope etched into canyon
city faces;
where the malcontent is driven to the slackened shallows
and forced to face their own reflection.
I dreamed of peace
where lightening skipped and danced across the waves
and thunder played the most delicate of notes;
where wind swirled not in anger but caressed
the sparse sand dune grass and the stilt legged
petrel bobbed in anticipation;
where the fuss of self induced stress is placed inside the trench
and covered by the dirt of self awareness.
I dreamed of peace
where only peace may step and no intrusion
may be entered;
where neither the able nor the vacuous may encroach;
where neither the sun drenched and rich may acquire that which
others have stooped to learn;
where the essence of time is encased and made bare
and does not beat to a false clock;
where all I have been and all I am to be is in the one,
and there is no need to climb a further set of stairs.
I dreamed of peace.
May 12, 2012
May 12, 2012 at 12:20 AM UTC
Dripping inks from a dreamer's quill
Trembling tip illustrates a scribbled script
Weary sheets capturing an innocence guilt
Corners not spared for a timeless trip
Walking in reverse replaying all skits
Sorting out smiles from the grimeless grins
Missing a delicate frowned is a vital bit
Expressions throned from denying wins
Drifting words marking of flamboyant speech
Passing judgement even before the trial begins
Anonymous decision narrowing countless ditch
Where should we go now?
Or what should be seen?
Visionary or idealist repelling reality's keep
Spinning ticks as the grandfather clock dings
The journey sails even when our eyelids peep
Lights now shining while we recounting sheeps
Reality is knocking so now just let our
Fantasy breathes
@2014 Maman Screams
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
An ocean away from the Ivory Coast,
my feet are too clean and my mind is too *****
i'm so far away from this euphoric, ruddy discharge that my bed has transformed from a lukewarm boulder into all of my favorite childhood memories-
the unconscious a candy apple,
your dreams a sugary topping.
there you are-
wavering like a flag torn piece by piece from the wind,
savoring my tears like a glass jar,
gleaming ubiquitous affection, yet stoic,
unaffected by the blistering mantle-heat.
this ocean is my hospital gown tied so tightly that i can no longer breathe in your deepest fears and swallow them like morning coffee.
this ocean is my mother, choking on soothing words, repelling suicide with optimistic rhetoric, neurons firing in a tone so hectic that silent meditation is an inaudible conversation.
this ocean is the anti-depressant that ***** on my skin like a vacuum, dr. nestling his blindfold like an infant
this ocean is my empty home, abandoned, lost in the noise.
someday my feet will be ***** again,
and i'll feel your unyielding warmth like quarries in the summer,
dropping all of the noise and mending with what matters most,
where i'm blending in with infinite shades
of the Ivory Coast.
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 12:00 PM UTC
There I stood.
Body trembling, hearing only manic depressive echoes.
On one side, mournful cries, on the other, sheer harmonics.
There was a feeling of dream-like reality.
Some great force enveloped my body, compelling me to stagger forward.
With no realization of the whereabouts of my being,
I conceded to follow my feelings, as I always did.
With each step I took,
I could see and feel and experience a new part of my life that had already happened.
It was a chronological walk in time.
The conflicting noises ahead continued to get louder and more distinct.
On one side there was a gnashing of teeth; screaming and yelling ruled.
It was riotous, and strange looking people were festering about.
They scowled and spat at me; the smell--repelling.
On the other side, there was a great feeling of unity.
Great stillness and serene calmness.
An entity secure within itself.
There were much fewer on this side.
I chose to walk close to this side.
My knees buckled, but I miraculously remained standing.
There I stood; facing the Creator.
Anticipating God’s words, I prematurely smiled expecting open arms.
God, in all His righteous power, simply pointed at me and thundered;
“I know ye not!”
There I stood… body trembling.
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 6:27 PM UTC
Experiencing the love we share,
Encouraging only the positivity,
Explicitly repelling opposed air,
Embalming only the negativity,
Effecting the feelings that glare.
We savour that sweetness now.
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 12:34 AM UTC
we stopped believing the agora of the mind
our souls empty rooms colliding
full of amnesia on incessant roads
walls of flesh we were on the edge of terror,
steel confused with clarity
souls plucked like nails inside ruins
suffocated tales & archives of illusion
the shadow is closer to the center only
in the diaries of the blind
no hole of god is dead, we ***** fresh prophets
with inviolable gaze
for the sublime and holy in our sweat
believing is seeing the most lethal duel
the one and only the fake divine
who thinks alone on a road with no views
he planted spotlights in their eyes
for everybody to see only the world in his arms
hate kept in empty milk bottles
life is this schweitzer, passers-by were saying,
it has taste but only in foreign countries,
with their fists in pain caressing concrete asphalt turbines
as in quick sands no muscle was moving
carboard smiles unprotected against the evacuation of desire
wooden language didn't invent choice
no decomposition of the edges the totalitarian thought inside
the narcosis of time merciless
the clouds lost their sound we still don't look at each other
no hypothesis of sight no discharge for humiliation
wither souls made history grappling bending
twisting nonconsensual reality
no destiny for the allegory of truth
there are no angles of sight
facts become beasts
holy cannot be anybody's name
repelling of the heart beat
Mar 11, 2023
Mar 11, 2023 at 10:12 AM UTC