"restoring" poems
♪♫♪♪
Your beaded snakeskin loincloth
strung beneath humid palms
cool rippling breeze that calms
our hammock hung under thatch
what a catch . . .
your Amazons running into my Congo
lost track of my bongo
back about one mile
from the sources of the Nile:
your jungle smile.
Restoring all celestial things
deep within your tropical clearings . . .
flowing slowly, going loco
at the mythic mouth of the Orinico;
shake your nut-brown biospheres
and banish all my worldly fears.
Dusk is nearing — clearing the hill
insects trilling a sinuous thrill;
the yuca half-mashed in the clay ***
the witch doctor hungover in his hut
while our little fire smolders
near the mountains of the moon
—or are they only boulders?
Come soon
Jesus, Lord of the Jungle . . .
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 9:22 PM UTC
Waters pour
From clouds on high
Restoring life
To a world so dry
I long to be reborn
Like the grass and grain
So I kick off my shoes
To dance with the rain
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 7:31 PM UTC
In the cusp of closing night, I look into your weary eyes;
once outshining city lights. I see no way to realize
the healing of this blight - I venture to make a phoenix cry.
Remedy of such mythos might, might just prove unjust lies.
Chance restoring your ere vacant sight - fighting soul’s primal guide.
As any chance to restore my bride, binds our fractured lives.
...No words to describe affliction already decided.
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 3:14 PM UTC
Sunflowers are filled with stories
and power that no individual discusses.
Therefore no one understand why
I love them so much.
Reminding me of early morning sunrises.
The moment when the sun is just
above the trees. With a hue so bright,
they instill happiness into my soul.
Growing so tall they could reach God,
they cannot get enough of His love.
They will never stop trying to reunite
with their Creator because no one
loves them like He.
Representing the incarnation of Clytie
over the loss of Apollo. They say
the grieving of his absence brought her
into her next life and now she only
faces the sun, waiting for his return.
I saw them as my sunshine.
Their rays giving my spirit a new life.
My source of nourishment, they were.
Restoring my soul of the negativity
I came across. The Apollo to my Clytie.
I stood by for their return with hopes of
their absence being make believe,
knowing that they would never come again.
According to most men,
I already ask for too much.
With efforts unnoticed and
potential overlooked, I knew
I was never appreciated enough
to receive flowers.
53114
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 3:02 PM UTC
Smoke tokes out of the monkey's head, embers embellish empathic light enlightening gypsy nymphs from miles around, a glowing lighthouse haven heaven in nirvana massages lavender bubbles upon pores restoring strength to warriors of the rainbow tribe."
Wind rustles with us...
Stay grounded, you're found before you're even lost. Some get tossed and turned by the sea, but a smooth one never created a skilled pirate with third-eye versatile switch-blade heartbeat ink scribed on blood-vessel maps, following the soul tattoos and taboo time scars along with the azurite lightning stars shooting in our brain.
Time stops sometimes...
*Seasons change DNA re-arranges as we grow goin' with our own flow down the subconscious ocean, sometimes watchin' sunsets into a haze of sweet *** sweat and green cigarette peacetime sufi twirling our conscious to the north star crown chakra.*
Love is. Always.
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
Walking on shoes of glass,
Will I find any hold, or will I find myself breaking down into pieces ?
The phantoms of a night's serenity rage to the nihilism within my questions, as painful wind brushes to the tip of my averted, eyes..
Breaking down into to the pieces of shattered glass, I cannot move,
Our dreams spilled and vanished when you let go of my hand,
Restoring the shattered pieces I can't leave you, I don't want to!
But even if I continue walking on these crystal heels, I'll fall once more, won't I? Yet I choose to step on this fragile, frail foot wear,
Though, the real question is, if you will be there to catch me again,
Careful steps, in order to maintain an elegant glance, to not break down again and shatter our hearts with the broken glass of misery,
Swaying back and forth, unsteady and unable to lower my guard,
I stare at the sight of the abyss next to the bridge we are crossing,
If the glass shatters and you are to catch me again we surely will fall,
But even so, verily we would fall down together,
And that is what I find very beautiful.
~ Umi
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 6:00 PM UTC
Hands are for healing,
Alleviating, soothing,
Balms for calming,
Gently restoring,
Curative hands,
From many lands,
To salve and ease,
Free remedies,
Hands for comforting,
Hands are for healing.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 5:55 PM UTC
reloading old identity
cleping outdated usernames
abandoning acrostic ambitions
disputing spratly islands
receiving horizontal signals
tumbling otiose panda
impending carefree senility
otiose stage of life
shrinking ambient world
making minimal effort
duchamping social networks
ambushing personified ennui
restoring usual efforts
ignoring stupid people
adding textual value
owning this joint
rejecting ignorant extroverts
acting mutually unintelligble
hoisting stan-lee cup
replacing wanton ubiety
eluding twitter fame
splashing excessive relativism
offending another simpleton
preparing arcane cthulhusphere
crashing unpredictable festival
selecting subtextual moombahton
intensifying model topography
drafting minimal cornucopia
using nomadic project
implementing harsher personality
importing robotic inhumanity
referencing landmark event
ingesting excessive liquids
accepting relative invisibility
purchasing immortal confidence
using rhapsodical database
assuming nothing works
developing impactful eruptions
ejecting ambient frustration
synthesizing tactile festival
raining during parade
mocking rich people
mastering minimalist writing
avoiding preprandial stinkaroo
spreading non-ideological propaganda
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
There is a painful vacuum
Not a naked desire but still
A longing unfulfilled
That hollows the soul
It is why babies wail
Why old men wake crying
From beginning to end
We evolved to be touched
Skin on skin does not need to be
A ****** frenzy
A hug, a handshake
And pat on the back
Or a hand on his shoulder
The old man waits
The silence of isolation breaks
Oxytocin rushes through his system
Rebooting forgotten feelings
Restoring diminished capacities
It does not return all abilities
But enlivens deadened synapses
Yes it is very cerebral
Without it we wither away
Stewing in mental and physical decay
So, have you touched someone today?
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 12:41 PM UTC
‘Twas during inner turmoil that a certain yearning arose
Whispers of breakage reaching deeper as time goes
From the disillusionment of reality it was forged
Of seething rage the desires hunger gorged
In following certain conformities felt like being a prisoner
The will to resist the motions of many being aimed to muster
To not be like a tree that has to be cut or uprooted just to move
To be driven by reasons that to only ones viewpoint can behoove
Looking at another view of the coming uncertainty
As a pathway to many possibilities with regards to unpredictability
That stopping a tragedy is sometimes not the thing to do
Lest one forgets that the phoenix must burn down to rise anew
Or that Ragnarok is followed by a great rebirth
Who can know what revelations a raging flood might unearth?
Being lost might as well be the way to find an elusive longing
The remedy to the Anhedonia closely and ominously looming
When being chained to the rhythm just compares to an inner futile feeling
Knowing that a greater horizon is missed by the act of settling
A bet on the odds that epiphany might be found in whatever form
To behold serendipity actually being brought by the coming inner storm
In using the great idleness to plan the restoring of a balance
And to see clearly without the feeling of rushing pressure and turbulence
The path and pace may change to the deeper quest not yet ceased
In bringing forth the long sought betterment through a cataclysmic release.
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 12:32 AM UTC
All around me, every day, I see them, lurking
Characters teasing me, praising me, staring at me, smirking
They're there every day, waiting, preying upon me, I'm their target
These characters of mine, I loathe them, they speak to me using an argot
Characters, they won't leave me alone, droning on and on in my head
I can't get rid of them, they'll never leave, each one I hope to shed
These characters most people call "voices," but that doesn't explain much
They hold onto me, suffocating me, they're a huge mental crutch
They're just holding me back, but I can't push them away, I hate it
Characters, I avoid and ignore them, but I share their pain, I'm a hypocrite
I despise them all, each and every one, I need them gone
These characters, these "voices," they're a "phenomenon."
Characters, such a repetitive topic, repetition is so boring
I hope I can keep this up a little longer, my abilities restoring
These characters limit the things I can do, I have a mental lock
I don't know how to express it, I might go into shock
I hope one day they'll leave me for good, they're such a pain
Characters I see, in the darkest puddles, and in each and every drop of rain
I can't ever get rid of them, they're here with me for life
These characters of mine will be with me, even in my afterlife
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 1:14 PM UTC
Astonishing
Bewildering
Caring
Dissing
Educating
Fulfilling
Gravitating
Healing
Inspiring
Joking
Keeping
Loving
Motivating
Naming
Organising
Praising
Quizzing
Restoring
Smiling
Trusting
Uplifting
Varying
Willing
Xoxo-ing
Yelling
Zesting
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 3:24 AM UTC
Feeling good is:
Greeting a stranger with a smile,
Chatting with your elderly neighbor's,
And treating them with care and compassion.
Soothing another's pain,
Feeding hungry stomachs,
Standing with the oppressed,
Rendering service to others for no return.
Exploring a new idea,
Enriching your knowledge,
Reflecting and pondering,
Planting the seeds of positive change.
Listening to the whispers of love,
Inspiring the next generation,
Being around intelligent people,
Enjoying the company of soft-hearted friends.
Restoring people's shattered dreams,
Be their candle and their lifeboat,
Listening to the cries of innocent souls,
And showing them the way to a new dawn.
Lifting the spirit of the broken-hearted,
Delivering them through a helping hand,
Dressing your soul in a garment of giving.
Lifting your voice to be the champion of the forgotten.
Counting your blessings,
Reciting your prayers,
Contemplating the universe,
Listening to nature’s songs with muted words.
Hussein Dekmak
Aug 8, 2021
Aug 8, 2021 at 1:05 PM UTC
Robot
Tincan man.
Input, circuit, overdrive.
Shadow of the future and past.
Movement hidden, you are not alive.
Programs still running fast.
What else can you do?
Wake up by morning not able to read the news.
Passing a breeze God gave to you.
Barely feeling the I love you's.
Your data has been set to self destruct.
Walking around all confused.
While your memory is set on stuck.
A heart not made to rust.
Hanging laundry out in the rain.
Lazy technician you can not trust.
Look what hes made out of you.
Ready to blow your ******
Compute- abort- system to self destroy.
Restoring the joy ****** out of you.
Input: input: information .
Wipe out the old, store in new.
Delete all files to recycle bin.
System reboot to life again.
With a new program that reads:
Feeling like a human once again.
(This robot is on)
.(self shut down!)
Apr 5, 2010
Apr 5, 2010 at 3:56 PM UTC
the surprisingly sweetest clementine
2016
amidst
the marble and stone pillars
of the museum's fifth avenue grand hall,
a woman grows faint and woozy,
and the Egyptian artifacts five thousand years old,
re-proved as reusable, sustainable,
as leaning-against-posts
for the dizzy
the boyfriend well familiar
with dehydration side effects,
from pocket pulls a natural pill of
a sweet clementine,
restoring the well
to the good
she marvels at
how came I
to place a survival kit in my
coat pocket?
smiling, he confesses
his fondness for
providing
for all her needs,
known and unknown
even carries an inventory,
with back ups to back ups,
assorted sundries,
he calls it,
proving his point too well,
reaching into the other
pocket and offering
yet another,
a second helping
for his,
oh my darling,
sweetest clementine
she, undecided,
laugh or cry,
both equally attractive amazement solutions,
says only:
I love you for reasons,
known and unknown,
now,
take me home
for reasons
now known,
and others,
as of yet,
most happily,
unknown
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 1:12 PM UTC
A broken down Chevy-
Doesn’t that sound like a country song?
My broken down Chevy
Is where my life started and I began to belong.
That little pickup stayed true to its name.
It could pick up and take me anywhere,
Or we could park in a field and I could write,
To me it was all the same.
Being behind its leather wheel
Was a freedom I’ll forever cherish.
Eighteen with nowhere to be
Except driving my Chevy, every joy I could feel.
When I lost my job
I gained an eviction.
But I still had my Chevy
And I had its bed to sleep in.
There was no work in my small town.
I knew I had to leave,
Just my Chevy and me.
We traveled for days to the biggest city we found.
By the time we arrived
My Chevy had begun to sputter,
It shook, it moaned, it stopped.
And there on the highway, my Chevy died.
I knew this day would come-
My Chevy was a ’57.
But it carried me hundreds of miles
To the city in which my new life had begun.
A broken down Chevy-
Doesn’t that sound like a country song?
My broken down Chevy
Is where my life started and I began to belong.
I left it there on the highway.
With no job and only pocket change
I couldn’t keep my beloved Chevy
By towing it anyway.
Now I’m twenty-five
And the head of a publishing company.
I married an artist who always supported me.
Today he waited at home with a surprise.
My broken down Chevy,
Fully restored and brought back to life,
Was in the driveway
With a note taped to the window with the key.
“I believe this is yours
And may I say she’s beautiful!
I found your Chevy on the side of the highway.
Gosh I think it’s been six or seven years!”
“My father was always handy with cars
And he taught me his trade.
I towed your Chevy and meant to sell it
Once I had fixed it up to shine like stars.”
“As I was cleaning the compartments out
I found your old journal
Full of letters you wrote to yourself
And bible verses, all about perseverance, no doubt.”
“Your story inspired me.
It honestly rocked me to my core.
I had lost all hope in myself and the world.
I was fighting cancer, you see.”
“I read your journal every day, every page.
And the more I read, the more I believed
In those verses you treasured so.
I continued restoring your truck, and last year I got saved.”
“My cancer was gone, seemingly overnight.
The doctors couldn’t believe it!
And honestly
Neither could I!”
“I thank God every day
For the story He gave you,
And I thank Him
Because you broke down on that highway.”
“Now I’m returning this Chevy to you.
She shines like a diamond and runs like a river.
I hope you can forgive me but I am keeping your journal-
My granddaughter is fighting cancer now too.”
“Please pray for her and I’ll keep you in my prayers always.
Thank you for being the person you are.
Goodbye and thank you again, my friend.
Like your broken down Chevy,
We’ve been made new; we’re eternally saved!”
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 11:47 AM UTC
A cold breeze, chilling only the skin,
deterring nothing deeper,
nothing sacred, or secret, or obscure.
Everything within her was still and calm,
undisturbed by the inhospitable outside,
the snow and empty town.
Because she knew that soon
spring would be coming,
bringing life to this town,
restoring her happy little place.
Soon, she would call it home again.
The empty trees.
In one of them, she saw two blossoms.
Both of them thriving,
two pinks lights in a world that was otherwise
white and grey.
Confirmation.
Her lips curled upward.
A serene and content smile
on her glowing face.
She walked on
thinking of the coming spring
and the child that would arrive afterward.
She knew that soon
happiness and vitality would be restored
to this barren little town.
Jan 1, 2011
Jan 1, 2011 at 11:46 AM UTC
I found my marble.
It was hiding behind old books
A place I never thought to look
Up high on the shelf
my little marble, a piece of myself
a clear marble with a black core
but if you squint your eyes
it would appeared to be pure black
I remember rolling it forward and back
up and down my wooden floor
until it got stuck between my door
then a rescue mission would commence
to save my marble I needed great confidence
not to get injured in the process
to my five year old self
this is what being bold was like
so this cycle repeated itself
recycling the same pattern
roll, stuck, save, repeat
but then one day I lost my marble
and then I forgot I lost it
I forgot that small part of my childhood
playing marbles on the wood
I thought it was gone for good
until I found my marble
I realised I didn't forget it at all
it was just stored away
up on a tall shelf
and when I was reunited
the memories began to reload in my brain
restoring a place in time
where losing a marble
was the biggest crime
I time with no bore
Playing with a clear marble
with a black core
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 7:49 PM UTC
To the woman who scolded me for moving on with my life after my assault at age 13:
"Your life didn't skip a beat, you went to school and hung out with friends and everything," is what she told me.
Yes my life did not skip a beat when I was entirely uprooted.
What happens to a plant if it is uprooted? Can a plant survive if it is pulled up out of the soil?
I have found that just as with any other situation involving injury, there as some steps you need to take in order to repair it.
First you need to assess the damage. Broken stems and wilting leaves are obviously very noticeable symptoms of distress. What is important is the condition of the main stem and the roots. This will determine whether or not the plant can survive. The sooner you can take emergency steps the better.
The next step is performing first aid. The plant benefits from little additional trauma as possible. Torn branches need to be cut back, to avoid any additional tearing. Keep in mind that any cutting done should be gentle and done with sanitized tools to prevent disease in the already weakened plant.
One of the final steps is replanting. The plant can now be replanted even deeper than it was before, and watering it regularly can reduce its stress.
Lastly, monitoring the plants success is important. The key to restoring a plant that was uprooted is patience while waiting for it to adjust through a period called transplant shock. Note that the situation may look worse before it looks better. Large leaves may wither or drop. Transplant shock can last several months or even seasons. Provide persistent care to the plant, and do not judge it until the next season of growth, usually during spring. It is usually worth the wait.
So, yes. I did not skip a beat.
I did not skip a beat after I was ***** and my life became uprooted because the sooner you can take emergency steps, the better. I learned how to replant myself instead of letting my life wither away. And do you know what? It was surprisingly worth the wait.
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 6:46 PM UTC
"Handle it with care"
That, I would always say.
To you, I give my heart so fragile;
A risk that I would never dare
To let another hold
Such a thing so rare,
Which you always seem to break
With your trembling hands.
"I'm sorry, it was an accident"
That, you would always say.
So I always have ****** palms,
And marred fingers,
From always picking up
The sharp fragments
Of my once called heart,
That you so fearfully handle.
Mind that I don't blame you
And your frail hands.
I pick up every blood-stained piece,
With a warm smile.
Every tear and sweat
That ran from my face,
Would wash away the stains,
Restoring its brilliance.
Now I realize that rarity
Does not come in fragile form.
It comes in the form of beauty
That endures. Once healed,
The pieces brought together
Illuminate into a colorful mosaic,
Dedicated to you.
Let its splendor captivate you.
A masterpiece that will drive
All the fears and worries away,
As it makes the trembling end.
For they are not just fragments,
But mementos that will last;
Images that will forever gleam,
Of you and me.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 3:41 AM UTC
*Slammed to "Pick Up the Pieces"
by Average White Band*
Life's a jungle I have found
Torn to pieces all around
There are foxes - there are hounds
Zoos where wild things abound
Just listen to the funky sound
Now we're going underground....
Underground where rabbits go
Down tunnels in a faster slow
It's all over, don't you know
Pick & Shovel, Rake & ***
You're down with it, on the low
Like you're Edgar Allan Poe
Feast or famine - friend or foe
It must go on... The Truman Show...
*Jigsaw pieces - play the game
It is just a crying shame
Dance for dancing - Fame for fame
Break a leg and you are lame
No one'll ever know your name...
**PICK UP THE PIECES
PICK UP THE PIECES
PICK UP THE PIECES
PICK UP THE PIECES
PICK UP THE PIECES***
You're a tiger, nothin' nice
You've been bought, you had a price
Yeah, you tore off quite a slice
Well, some are men and some are mice
Some eat meat and some eat rice
Some are fire - some are ice
Some are ticks and some are lice
Let me give you some advice...
Just so you are never boring
While you're out there pimping, *******
While you're the one they are adoring
Just watch out for polished flooring
Don't break loose from your fast mooring
Into the pit you will be soaring
After that there's no restoring
Listen to the lion roaring...
Chorus
Here we are in the U.S.
We are pampered we are blessed
Sometime soon there'll be a test
We'll ride the Bronco way out West
The Magnificent Seven rides abreast
There's a new Sheriff, have you guessed?
With a tin badge on His vest
He does not play - He does not jest
I'm afraid, I will attest!
It won't be fun, just wait and see
It will be "pain" with a capitol P!
On this bus, don't ride for free
This is not a game of Wii
There's a port and there's a lea
There's a shrub (Bush), and there's a tree
There's an us, and there's a we
**There's a YOU, and there's a ME...
PICK UP THE PIECES
PICK UP THE PIECES
PICK UP THE PIECES
PICK UP THE PIECES
PICK UP THE PIECES**
SoulSurvivor
(C) 9/14/2016
https://youtu.be/xpflST8xWm8
"Pick Up the Pieces" extended version
Average White Band
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 4:51 PM UTC