Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"resuscitated" poems
It was so vivid I could feel my chest compressing as I ran, crippled with sobs. The betrayal was a knife It was a furnace and my feet hurt as I flew across the city. When I punched out my bedroom window I could feel the glass separating my knuckles and I contemplated the destiny of the larger shards. I awoke as one resuscitated from drowning resuscitated from death gasping, shaking, reeling d e m a t e r i a l i z e d and began to cry as I performed yogic breathing exercises and went limply through the worn out motions to assuage heart attack symptoms. They know they know even follow me follow me when I'm asleep. My God.
0
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 8:09 AM UTC
Generalized Anxiety Disorder
In the crease of her fingers Is where she held me. A history of thought, Filtered. Flaked off at the end. It was her fingers I felt most comfortable. That I could truly do anything. Stuck between her middle and pointer finger. Held high, upright. Unprecedented in eclipse. She'd press me to her lips. Resuscitated. Flaked at the tip. Scatter ash Where I felt most alive. Nestled in the bend of her fingers. My building without escape. She'd set fire to my head. & like a mad man I'd lay still. This smoke, a place I wanted to be. Our bad habit persisting Day in and day out. The only fact perhaps we truly have. I'd unravel in loss of responsibility, The nook of her fingers, A universal sense of comfort. Withered down. Tossed to the wind. Our history made short, Recognizing that we were doomed from the start. Smoking in front of the no smoking sign, A habit we can't put down
0
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 9:29 AM UTC
No Smoking Sign
You were taken, Stolen, You're gone forever, Never to breathe life again, Taken away for someone's sick pleasure, Lying in a shallow grave, It's so sad that you couldn't be saved. The second victim, Locked in the barn, Trapped in the dark, Stabbed in the heart, Dying on the floor  as she cried out, But nobody heard her, Now she's stuffed in a freezer with her insides cut out of her, It's such a shame that nobody could save her. Third victim, The captive now has serial killer status, Disgusting pride in that freaks cold eyes, First he stopped her breathing, Resuscitated her, Then proceeded with beatings, Causing painful internal bleeding, Just think of the demonic laughter the poor girl was hearing, The last thing she ever heard. Fourth victim, I think you get the picture.
0
Feb 10, 2011
Feb 10, 2011 at 12:26 AM UTC
Sick Pleasure
They come to me for a kick start, a quick start, for a broken heart, or one that's stopped beating. They come for spice, for *** for connection, for healing. They come to be seen, to be accepted with open arms, open mouth, open heart, and open ***** They come to be renewed, rejuvenated, revived, resuscitated, reminded of what it is to love, and to be wanted. And then they go. Who heals the healer?
0
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 11:22 AM UTC
cardiovascular resuscitation unit
I reached the summit in time to see, the grey of dawn just leaving, The new sunrise begin to ascend. The breeze, reborn, fresh as the day. An Eagle soaring high over head, spiraling on updrafts, master of the sky, not hunting, just testing his wings, apparently enjoying a little joy ride. Oh what freedom that must be, to fly like that as you please, so completely released from gravity. I watched him play, 'till out of sight. Below me, on a slope stood a sure footed Male Mountain Goat, Warming himself in morning sun. Head held high, proud and alert, eyes searching for opportunity. Mountain Jays squawk and play among the sparse trees below my lofty perch, as if they too frolic, in new day celebration. A day ago I saw the sun rise from the fourteenth floor window, of my office building.   That same sun, I now see, from the top, of this mountain peek. But it was very different. Rather than fresh air laced, with the scent of Fir and Pine, It was the stale stink, of cigarettes and dust, Air pushed through a vent, Resuscitated, recirculated and processed, dead air resurrected. My view East slightly obscured, by ***** glass. A picture window that can not even be opened. The Cascades majestically blue on the horizon, The new days sun, resting on Mount Hood's shoulder. A bright light inviting, Big and yellow, calling. And but a day later, here I stand, on Three Finger Jack, Looking further East, Breathing in this new clean day, Taking memory pictures with my eyes, Alone, but never completely. Next time I will not wait so long. Oh, if I could only live right here forever. On further thought, after I'm dead, haul my ashes up here, and leave 'em, Sunrises and sunsets for all eternity.
0
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 12:38 PM UTC
Climb The Mountain
I reached the summit in time to see, the grey of dawn just leaving, The new sunrise begin to ascend. The breeze, reborn, fresh as the day. An Eagle soaring high over head, spiraling on updrafts, master of the sky, not hunting, just testing his wings, apparently enjoying a little joy ride. Oh what freedom that must be, to fly like that as you please, so completely released from gravity. I watched him play, 'till out of sight. Below me, on a slope stood a sure footed Male Mountain Goat, Warming himself in morning sun. Head held high, proud and alert, eyes searching for opportunity. Mountain Jays squawk and play among the sparse trees below my lofty perch, as if they too frolic, in new day celebration. A day ago I saw the sun rise from the fourteenth floor window, of my office building.   That same sun, I now see, from the top, of this mountain peek. But it was very different. Rather than fresh air laced, with the scent of Fir and Pine, It was the stale stink, of cigarettes and dust, Air pushed through a vent, Resuscitated, recirculated and processed, dead air resurrected. My view East slightly obscured, by ***** glass. A picture window that can not even be opened. The Cascades majestically blue on the horizon, The new days sun, resting on Mount Hood's shoulder. A bright light inviting, Big and yellow, calling. And but a day later, here I stand, on Three Finger Jack, Looking further East, Breathing in this new clean day, Taking memory pictures with my eyes, Alone, but never completely. Next time I will not wait so long. Oh, if I could only live right here forever. On further thought, after I'm dead, haul my ashes up here, and leave 'em, Sunrises and sunsets for all eternity.
Continue reading...
50
I ate the poison with you. I fell right beside you And I helped you get back up. I kissed your scraped knees In the ghosts of your mothers lips But I was your friend. I resuscitated your heart When you stopped it from beating I drank your tears And cried them myself. I cared; I never once pricked you With the same needle The world persistently penetrated You with And I would have ****** out the venom From those snake bites If you’d asked me to, Knowing that you’d never Take that bullet for me, Even if I asked you to. But I still jumped into the fire To make sure you got out Alive. And somehow You thought you were alone. And somehow I ended up In front of the gun And you had no problem Pulling the trigger.
0
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 9:04 PM UTC
The Downside to Empathy
Draining Hell-fire through fingertips. Fully immersed in emotion, not just the memory.  Reliving the feeling of tortured souls while bleeding ink into words.  Slinking from an ashen past into a jet black future. The present lost, forgotten, left behind in transition from shadow to darkness. Shattered souls resuscitated and shared for the mere pleasure of others.  there is no time to wallow, no self pity. That is not found in this place, burned off as sulfur in the brewing of a demon.   **She comes alive Through yesterday's ashes Succubus divine** Such a pretty little package. Sugar and spice and everything that isn't meant for human consumption.  Poison mind seething, searching for the vulnerable, the gullible, the innocent, and the sweetly vile.  Spewing forth honesty in liquid courage.  No need to lie when eyes believe what they see.  Beauty in the moonlight, sweetness in a smile, desire in a twinkle of Hell in the eye.  Oh, that bit of Hell is a lot to chew.  Take a bite and choke.  Lost forever are pieces of you, your heart, your soul feeds her beautiful demons.  Her flawless imperfections beguile and betray the mind, as those demons consume her divinely **Entranced by beauty He stalks his prey in music She absorbs his soul** Honeysuckle perfume taints the air.  And the honey will never again taste as sweet. Swimming mind lost in those ruby lips and laughter like cracking glass heard as tinkling bells.  Ensnared in the thorns that hook the flesh by surprise. The warmth of the fire masks the sting. All part of the dance.  Writhing, hypnotic friction disguised as emotion, disguised as desire, disguised as love.  Motion so fluid whispers depravity behind the eyes of an angel.  There is nothing else.  She gets what she wants. You believe you have her right where you want her, but it is she who has lead the way from the first whiff of the stench of you as you entered the room. **He believes he won her She devours his essence vanishing at once** As she is craved, she burns your soul.  This demon who drains Hell-fire into words.
0
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 7:51 PM UTC
The Innocence of Man
Draining Hell-fire through fingertips. Fully immersed in emotion, not just the memory.  Reliving the feeling of tortured souls while bleeding ink into words.  Slinking from an ashen past into a jet black future. The present lost, forgotten, left behind in transition from shadow to darkness. Shattered souls resuscitated and shared for the mere pleasure of others.  there is no time to wallow, no self pity. That is not found in this place, burned off as sulfur in the brewing of a demon.   **She comes alive Through yesterday's ashes Succubus divine** Such a pretty little package. Sugar and spice and everything that isn't meant for human consumption.  Poison mind seething, searching for the vulnerable, the gullible, the innocent, and the sweetly vile.  Spewing forth honesty in liquid courage.  No need to lie when eyes believe what they see.  Beauty in the moonlight, sweetness in a smile, desire in a twinkle of Hell in the eye.  Oh, that bit of Hell is a lot to chew.  Take a bite and choke.  Lost forever are pieces of you, your heart, your soul feeds her beautiful demons.  Her flawless imperfections beguile and betray the mind, as those demons consume her divinely **Entranced by beauty He stalks his prey in music She absorbs his soul** Honeysuckle perfume taints the air.  And the honey will never again taste as sweet. Swimming mind lost in those ruby lips and laughter like cracking glass heard as tinkling bells.  Ensnared in the thorns that hook the flesh by surprise. The warmth of the fire masks the sting. All part of the dance.  Writhing, hypnotic friction disguised as emotion, disguised as desire, disguised as love.  Motion so fluid whispers depravity behind the eyes of an angel.  There is nothing else.  She gets what she wants. You believe you have her right where you want her, but it is she who has lead the way from the first whiff of the stench of you as you entered the room. **He believes he won her She devours his essence vanishing at once** As she is craved, she burns your soul.  This demon who drains Hell-fire into words.
Continue reading...
13
Her fingertips loosed the glass bottle, which had of late gathered rain like the hands of paupers. Glitter in a heartbeat. to be collected by old battered shoes or car tyres and streetwise magpies. it joins a city evensong this oceanic roar of nothing fusing chords of cars and smoke and lonely dogs with hacks and throngs of perambulating suits and suitors trampling athwart broads of concrete As swifts in summer. We swim in it through open atriums and barren rooms of magnolia and magnolia and magnolia. All the while if you look harder you see through chinks a sepulchre in each greying tower ranging higher and higher still. Machines and machinations stacking life upon life to build pyramids to gaudy kings in pinstripe or herringbone. Flumes of fumes ***** like floods Into and out of train stops and bus stands. Circling lungs like hungry crows. Crows which haunt Bombed out chapels made new resuscitated with waxen ivy and ivory lilies. And the leaves of saintly oak trees chatter in shrinking crevices of green story telling Of how people and things grow old. And you can walk these streets And dive too like cormorants into The platitudes of city living. Soaked to the skin in sound to tell your story like the shards of a broken bottle.
0
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 6:10 PM UTC
Cityscape
my physics book says since atoms are mostly empty space nothing can ever really touch contact is just empty space upon more empty space if this is the case i do not know what it is like to hold your hand run my fingers through your vibrant hair or feel your lips caress mine in a moment of passion but how can this be true when i can feel the way you have changed my thoughts healed my mind and resuscitated my heart how can they say my life has not been touched? even so, i long for the gap between our atoms to close for your laughter and kindness and gentle kisses to fill the crevices of my atoms. i want to find a way to fill your atoms, too maybe then our perfect love will defy physics and we will collide.
0
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC
collision
Deadlines besiege me, as stress pennoned limbs ache for action, yet, procrastination consumes me. I know relief will come, when: task complete I can truly unbend, sit back and relax. Yet, brain benumbed, I irradiate in a background of autogenous anxiety. I stare through the TV, study the grain on the page I'm not reading, attempt to study the air. Until, deadlines eve, when stress breaks free staining my mouth, and eyes and senses, bitter body, shocked, resuscitated and frantic activity commences.
0
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 9:23 AM UTC
A study in what not to do
When I was 16 I almost drowned I swallowed enough water to sink Any ambitions to become a sailor The water tasted a lot like my pride It left an after taste bitter enough To humble a King What we take from the world Is simply a reflection of Who we are inside If you feel like the sun is avoiding you Like your ex-girlfriend Then visit the dentist and make your smile Bright enough to get by The crowded streets of downtown Aren’t filled with inept ******** Just you, who isn’t willing to see That everyone has pain in their eyes No matter how well they disguise Their recent demise with ties and lies Bought online We fall into the chasm of doubt That high-fives gravity because They got you to fall Change who you are and you’ll Literally change your world Because everything reflects Our character instead of our appearance Except for cursed glass that Became a mirror When you’re tempted to doubt The goodness of life Remember that life is what you make it When God writes your conclusion To your life’s dissertation It will simply be a story Of the dreams you had the courage To chase You have nothing to fear Not even fear itself Because you are the owner Of happiness and peace Enough for yourself if you’re Willing to share When I was 16 I almost drowned I was resuscitated and spit out My pride and coughed up my ego To breath in the world Through unbiased purity Now I can finally see I left that ignorant part of me To fend for himself I was never a good swimmer
0
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 1:37 PM UTC
Swim the World Over
When I was 16 I almost drowned I swallowed enough water to sink Any ambitions to become a sailor The water tasted a lot like my pride It left an after taste bitter enough To humble a King What we take from the world Is simply a reflection of Who we are inside If you feel like the sun is avoiding you Like your ex-girlfriend Then visit the dentist and make your smile Bright enough to get by The crowded streets of downtown Aren’t filled with inept ******** Just you, who isn’t willing to see That everyone has pain in their eyes No matter how well they disguise Their recent demise with ties and lies Bought online We fall into the chasm of doubt That high-fives gravity because They got you to fall Change who you are and you’ll Literally change your world Because everything reflects Our character instead of our appearance Except for cursed glass that Became a mirror When you’re tempted to doubt The goodness of life Remember that life is what you make it When God writes your conclusion To your life’s dissertation It will simply be a story Of the dreams you had the courage To chase You have nothing to fear Not even fear itself Because you are the owner Of happiness and peace Enough for yourself if you’re Willing to share When I was 16 I almost drowned I was resuscitated and spit out My pride and coughed up my ego To breath in the world Through unbiased purity Now I can finally see I left that ignorant part of me To fend for himself I was never a good swimmer
Continue reading...
52
They have tried to conceal our love, they've thrown up roadblocks, and smokescreens to keep us from finding each other again, but yet we always do. Our love has its own radar. I can sense your heart beating, like an angelic drum through the haze, and I know you can always hear the love in my voice, even through the harsh foul static. Even when you cannot respond, I know you know my love is always glowing, like a lighthouse in the night. Guiding you back to my harbor of eternal affection, where my lips never tire of sounding the horn of our happiness. I have stumbled for women before, like a blind man descending stairs. But I never fell, until I tumbled head first into the bottomless pool of your beauty. The only waters in which I would gladly drown, have drowned, only to be rescued and resuscitated by your kisses.    Those who do not speak the language of our love, point their antennas our way, they intercept our transmissions, but their code books are missing the pages that explain how such emotion can be decoded. They only catch the grand communique, always missing the short, but ever so loving messages, that come in daily over the teletype of passion. Feverishly at this very moment, they wrack their brains wondering at the deeper context of our words, but their is no hidden meaning, behind the expression of affection. Love is its own context, and if they cannot translate it then they are the ones at fault, not us. We have our own frequencies, and wavelengths. Our Love shall always ring out in the darkness, even if we have to switch channels, It will be there, to comfort us, and relieve the ache of our longing. I already have enough in this world. Let them have the rest. All I need is our tiny daily broadcast, all I need is... Our love.
0
Jun 5, 2012
Jun 5, 2012 at 7:20 AM UTC
Press The Squelch Button
They have tried to conceal our love, they've thrown up roadblocks, and smokescreens to keep us from finding each other again, but yet we always do. Our love has its own radar. I can sense your heart beating, like an angelic drum through the haze, and I know you can always hear the love in my voice, even through the harsh foul static. Even when you cannot respond, I know you know my love is always glowing, like a lighthouse in the night. Guiding you back to my harbor of eternal affection, where my lips never tire of sounding the horn of our happiness. I have stumbled for women before, like a blind man descending stairs. But I never fell, until I tumbled head first into the bottomless pool of your beauty. The only waters in which I would gladly drown, have drowned, only to be rescued and resuscitated by your kisses.    Those who do not speak the language of our love, point their antennas our way, they intercept our transmissions, but their code books are missing the pages that explain how such emotion can be decoded. They only catch the grand communique, always missing the short, but ever so loving messages, that come in daily over the teletype of passion. Feverishly at this very moment, they wrack their brains wondering at the deeper context of our words, but their is no hidden meaning, behind the expression of affection. Love is its own context, and if they cannot translate it then they are the ones at fault, not us. We have our own frequencies, and wavelengths. Our Love shall always ring out in the darkness, even if we have to switch channels, It will be there, to comfort us, and relieve the ache of our longing. I already have enough in this world. Let them have the rest. All I need is our tiny daily broadcast, all I need is... Our love.
Continue reading...
27
I died right there and then in the most vicious manner with every touch she crafted on his skin and every smile she formed to his lips she mutilated me—sliced my body and took away the happiness in me I was buried inside the coffin of their screaming memory and I yelled back in agony then he ran to me pulled my soul with powerful force of his convincing gravity he resuscitated what she stole and returned my heart to a whole
0
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 3:43 AM UTC
Renaissance
I stand before the early morning light; squinting to see the hope promised on the horizon. Shadows from the pillars of salt behind me; a multitude of errors seeking my attention. All the fallen stars buried beneath the wasted wishes; their tombs unmarked and broken by good intentions. The black rose I carried tightly within my palm has died from the suffocation; I’m afraid to let it go, hoping it can be resuscitated. The stench of stubbornness on my flesh; our hands no longer touching, our lips no longer tasting the moments. Always and forever... etched in loneliness.
0
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 1:38 PM UTC
Passing Away
Time elapsed has been good to me Past pains have diminished Memories of laughter draw me back Not for it all, but for the friendship. Our conversations have been easy No expectations or complications Lines left uncrossed, flirtations tossed For more serious communications. Deceived by the distance and Misled by my [fragile] armor of strength I believe I can see you again Without falling into your arms again. We meet with an embrace I feel a simmering warmth Initially mistaken as just The joy of seeing an old friend. But, Your smile starts to sedate me I am losing consciousness with reality Your eyes have launched a stealth attack On my logic and disarmed my sense. My ears capture only silence My eyes keenly focus on your lips My mouth tastes your every word I bite firmly upon my lower lip. The heat now radiating is too intense My clothes singe in the flames of desire I am bare and breathless before you Resuscitated only by your kiss and...touch. D   a     m        n Quickly weakened in your presence I am but an iron particle drawn in your magnetic field It is now clear It is in the distance and only in the distance Where I am strong. © Tina Thompson
0
Mar 16, 2012
Mar 16, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
Strength in the Distance
Reincarnated into something with feathers// A hummingbird in the valley of Mexico..// Resuscitated to be the warrior of the south// Was the warrior of the south..// Now with these wind bestowed upon me// I stretch veins plague length throughout the winds territory// Where the free horse springs on top of the loose rock// Where the wolf sacrifices the blood for young// in order to keep order// In order to move forward...// The moon shines brighter than the sun, you're just asleep to never see it// Too blind to feel it// Too low to feel the height of the feather// Earth goddess approaches..// She's draped in light..// Even air moves out of her way// (cont.)
0
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
Hummingbird Wizard (Huitzilopochtili)
My body burned - a fire I'd never known. The pools in my eyes commanded me to swim, my heart wished to lay down beside him, but instead I just drove. Headlines that read Missing Man From Mt Martha circulated for days. She told me he'd often spoke of running away, and her love for him clung fiercely to the fairytale in vain. Perhaps we should have known better, but the tales fooled us. Prince Charming will save the maiden but who is going to save him? The floors caught me as I collapsed under the weight of a phone call. They found him in romantic slumber among the forest - a tree and his throat playing tug of war with a length of rope. It's hard to say who really won. The chaple was too small to cradle all who loved him. Red work shirts lined the doorway like poppies. Friends wore top hats embellished with ribbons and sunflowers. Sisters consoled their grief in suits and coloured bow ties. An old music teacher played a violin, so haunting and beautiful. I've never known grief. Memories of his smile and hazy nights in his car have seen my every sunrise since. I see him in strangers and passers by on the street and my heart stops in these fleeting moments of illusion. Resuscitated by reality, they're gone as quickly as they came. I often think I should visit his grave, place a flower on his tombstone or just have a conversation. I regret that only after he'd died I realised we might have understood each other better than we knew.
0
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 10:54 PM UTC
Missing Man
I gave everything I had and you just let it all blow away in the wind, like nothing had ever crossed our once star struck paths, I was struck in the heart, That blow should've killed me, I shouldve drowned in the open sea But you resuscitated me I would have died you see I can't look in your eyes I know that's were my heart once lied, , I begged for you to be, One hundred percent true to me But you couldn't be You hurt me Left me bleeding into the ground So lucifers hungry souls could feast You were an evil beast I miss the warmth and peace Do you remember the melody Your heart once sang with me It was a masterpiece It was truly unique The gods bowed their heads in the presence I used my last regrets I promised That I wouldn't forget That song that we once sang Ill remember that day When I saw you leave It was so hard but so full of relief I was sad for days I resented the month of may On may 28th We'd sang out song I remember how you smiled I had felt at home for awhile But you had evicted me Do you remember the melody Your heart once sang with me It was a masterpiece It was truly unique The gods bowed their head in the presence I used my last regret I promised I wouldn't forget That song that we once sang I'll remember that day
0
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 11:33 PM UTC
My heart once sang with yours
I would reach into my chest And wrestle my heart back into rhythm Because only beating hearts can take a beating, And maybe you don’t know it But if making me bleed, leaves you wanting more Then each time you disappoint me I’ll keep a little life in my veins So I can be resuscitated.
0
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 9:12 AM UTC
Bring Me Back
My thought process never really got around this... How I could not profess to latter, the feelings for a goddess profoundest. From genesis you willed the cycle of life like Mother Nature, even though it grew to be your nemesis, you still recycled time to mother a stranger. Pincushioned by Love once…no twice, the repercussions of a chronic illness costs an arm and a leg. Pushing love once, no dice, but sneaking cousins call it weakness and so they come and beg. Polaroid picture of a vintage flower you are, keeps shining through the darker lens...Paranoid feature, a linkage to my late Father’s cool car, keeps driving to Wonderland. Ma, I’ll always admire your strategy of war, patience is virtue. How you always lit the fire of synergy and lore, I’m your patent statue. Inhale coz out of breath, resuscitated late being paid, or realised the thorn of this lifeless hell. Derailed and out of depth, an eviscerated state of being, as I laid my eyes upon her lifeless shell. Hide eternal gears, moving aerial still…shots coming fly under. I cried internal tears during the burial... the deal is shortcomings lie under. Best say it real, they tried to **** us both Eyes and Toes. Hence, I break the deal coz God sealed us both like Ice and Stone. Nefertiti won the game of thrones now, name me king!! Never guilty, walk, aim, overthrow the beast now, Angels sing!!
0
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 6:01 AM UTC
Prosthetic leg (Dedication to my late Mother, 20150907)
*Oh Holy Agony- how do you bear To watch the screaming souls Fight against your poison laced binds. Oh Holy Agony- where is your heart, Us pitiful humans you feast upon Need not to submerge in your wrath. Oh Holy Agony- why hath you not perished, Deep in your ***** I've thrusted my knife But death did not take you for good company. Oh Holy Agony- you savagely resuscitated, Crawling out the Fiery depths of Hell To disrupt my ephemeral serenity.*
0
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 5:08 PM UTC
Abiding Agony
Ancient, invisible God of the Hebrews, Some have renamed You, and crowned You Their Christian god; but for the discerning person We just need a little more proof. Here are some forms and paper work, You need to fill out; And of course we'll need a certified note, Declaring just when and where and how You came into Being, and listing All next of kin- yes Your Son absolutely should qualify for that- And we'll need His death certificate on file, For future referencing, and any dependents- What's this about Three Persons in One? Do You have a psychiatric doctor You see? We should probably have his information too, just in case. Immaculate conception? I'm sorry, that just isn't acceptable in any court of law. Every woman seems to believe it at first, of course, But that doesn't make it hold water- ****** birth? hmm, very interesting. Perhaps an examination is in order, Something surely doesn't seem right here? Martyred for our sins? What an interesting idea. Resurrection? Is there a record of that anywhere? I suppose it's possible You could have had a colorful near death experience, If You were really resuscitated- oh it was Your Son? Oh, You Yourself accomplished this Re-Animation- Oh oh oh! I've got to get that call. Hold on; be right back, dear. "Get the guys in white coats down here in room 311 right away. I've got a hot one.."
0
Jul 27, 2010
Jul 27, 2010 at 9:06 PM UTC
Modern Day Messiahs
Inside my chest lies an anomaly, An anatomical wonder; Inside me lives my triangle heart, Ever torn asunder. No rounded edges has my soul, 'Cause chafers gon' chafe; It beats irregular the time, Like constant battle strafe. Often dead my heart's become, Silent as the grave; Resuscitated by the shock, Its walls have nearly caved. No weather wears the pointy ends, And no waves caress the stone; My heart lies cold and rough within, Pleased to be alone. No harm has knocked upon its doors, Nor has its core been touched; Indeed, my heart has felt no warmth Since you replaced its flesh.
0
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC
Triangle Heart
"Oh, I've finally got you right here Tonight I'll ease your mind, That's why I'm calling on you and ooh, soft your love's desire it's hard to stay away you keep me calling on you" I could walk upon these words again and again maybe that flew over your heads, that was the bridge my friends and after all this time he probably thought he was dead and forgotten but listen here that "ooh" of a crooner that simply learned it from you resuscitated a gem from the archive just to prove that your song made an impact. Not just the sample but the words themselves live on in a tribute to you and I was just one of those kids who loved those songs about love you know because I'd imagine I'm the one singing to her like: "baby you, my darling only if you knew these things that you do when your simply smiling for me but even more you bring illumination to my days when the skies aren't the right hue of blue like the blessing of the sun's rays after it's rained a few days you, always seem to pick up my mood, and I can do nothing but thank you and show you how much you mean to me". Just a few lines to describe a groove a song to hold her tight and slow dance to maybe a light a fire, just romance boo because when the chorus comes around I'll be all up in your ear like, "Oh, I've finally got you right here Tonight I'll ease your mind, That's why I'm calling on you and ooh,soft your love's desire it's hard to stay away you keep me calling on you" ~Just Another Reason To Adore The Art~ [Inspired by the music of Jon B.'s: "Calling On You" and Drake's: "Cameras/Good Ones Go Interlude"] Written By: James Desire
0
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
An Old School Groove
"Oh, I've finally got you right here Tonight I'll ease your mind, That's why I'm calling on you and ooh, soft your love's desire it's hard to stay away you keep me calling on you" I could walk upon these words again and again maybe that flew over your heads, that was the bridge my friends and after all this time he probably thought he was dead and forgotten but listen here that "ooh" of a crooner that simply learned it from you resuscitated a gem from the archive just to prove that your song made an impact. Not just the sample but the words themselves live on in a tribute to you and I was just one of those kids who loved those songs about love you know because I'd imagine I'm the one singing to her like: "baby you, my darling only if you knew these things that you do when your simply smiling for me but even more you bring illumination to my days when the skies aren't the right hue of blue like the blessing of the sun's rays after it's rained a few days you, always seem to pick up my mood, and I can do nothing but thank you and show you how much you mean to me". Just a few lines to describe a groove a song to hold her tight and slow dance to maybe a light a fire, just romance boo because when the chorus comes around I'll be all up in your ear like, "Oh, I've finally got you right here Tonight I'll ease your mind, That's why I'm calling on you and ooh,soft your love's desire it's hard to stay away you keep me calling on you" ~Just Another Reason To Adore The Art~ [Inspired by the music of Jon B.'s: "Calling On You" and Drake's: "Cameras/Good Ones Go Interlude"] Written By: James Desire
Continue reading...
44