Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
As mother nature's
Punitive measure
Against a society
In maintaining
The statuesque
That doesn't bother,
Our rivers
Had become subject
To a water thirst,
To the extent
Of projecting
Rocky ribs
Terrifyingly protruded out
For easy count!

But now thanks to
The all-out, terrace making
And reafforestation effort
Of each catchment
Farmers have made a point
And also  to the afforestation
Move of the government
Rivers aside from quenching
Their insatiable thirst
Have resumed
To brim over
With floods
Drinking water
To their hearts' content.

Our forests once stripped of
Their wooded cover
Have started, fast, to recover
From afar they are seen
Robed eye-catching green
From a fry-pan sky
Allowing a shelter
Also busy
Carbon to sequester.

Wild animals
That migrated
Have preferred
Back their way to find.

Now farmers don't have
Deep to dig
To sink a water well
Or find a nearby spring.

Birds are heard chirruping
Be it winter, summer or spring,
While Brooks bubbling.

Buzzing and hovering
From this to that flower
Bees are producing
Organic honey by the hour.

Promising a bumper harvest
Farmer's plots have
Fortunately continued
To resuscitate!
Those leaving
Their denuded abode behind
Away, who preferred
To stay
'We will return back
home soon! '
Is what
They  say.

Happily enough
Mother nature
Affords us a second chance
Imbued with
Environment stewardship
If  we are willing to mend
Our wrong 'Feast today
famine tomorrow! ' stance.

To dispel the spectre
Of climate change
And systematically face
The global challenge
True to the adage
'We have either to
swim together
or sink together! '

Hence in fighting the challenge
Or adapting to the change
Back scratching,
We have to be on the same page.

Indeed, irrigation must
Not slip our mind
For erratic rainfall
A  lasting solution
If we must find.//

Once a famous Ethiopian Poet  Pro.Debebe Seifu Who had passed away had  penned down a picturesque poem lamenting the land degradation, deforestation and change of climate the country was suffering.The bad scenario seemed unrecoverable.Now a days Ethiopia is reversing that sad episode.I have therefore to write a poem on this
#change   #trees   #erosion   #climate   #deforestation   #enviroment   #degeradation   #desertification
Once a famous Ethiopian Poet  Pro.Debebe Seifu, Who had passed away, had  penned down a picturesque poem lamenting the land degradation,deforestation and change of climate the country was suffering.The bad scenario seemed unrecoverable then.Now a days Ethiopia is reversing that sad episode.I have therefore to write a poem on this.
Frustrated Poet Sep 2014
Man and woman, though different
Are equal in the eyes of God.
inexplicable though true but still
Unacceptable for some perhaps

Man is the highest of all creations
Woman is the most sublime of all Ideals.
God made for a man a throne,
for a woman an altar.
the throne exalts,
The altar sanctifies.

Man is the brain.
woman is the heart.
The brain fabricates light while
The heart produces love.
light fecunds,
Love resuscitates.

Man is the code.
Woman is the gospel.
The code corrects
As the gospel perfects.

Man is the genius while
Woman is the angel.
The genius is undefinable
And the angel is immeasurable.

Man is strong in reason
but woman is invincible in her tears.
Reason convinces the most stubborn
Just as tears soften the hardest of mortals.

Man is the ocean
And the woman is the lake.
The ocean has it's pearls that adorn;
The lake has its poems that dazzle.

**Man stands where the earth ends;
And woman where heaven begins.
This was made by my mom when she was in college. She asked me to post this. Im so proud. Love you mama! ❤
Bunhead17 Nov 2013
[Intro - Rihanna:]
Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
But that's alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

[Verse - Eminem:]
I can't tell you what it really is
I can only tell you what it feels like
And right now it's a steel knife in my windpipe
I can't breathe but I still fight while I can fight
As long as the wrong feels right it's like I'm in flight
High off a love, drunk from my hate,
It's like I'm huffing paint and I love it the more I suffer, I suffocate
And right before I'm about to drown, she resuscitates me
She ******* hates me and I love it.
Wait! Where you going?
"I'm leaving you!"
No you ain't. Come back we're running right back.
Here we go again
It's so insane cause when it's going good, it's going great
I'm Superman with the wind at his back, she's Lois Lane
But when it's bad it's awful, I feel so ashamed I snapped
Who's that dude?
"I don't even know his name."
I laid hands on her, I'll never stoop so low again
I guess I don't know my own strength

[Chorus - Rihanna:]
Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
But that's alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

[Verse - Eminem:]
You ever love somebody so much you can barely breathe when you're with 'em
You meet and neither one of you even know what hit 'em
Got that warm fuzzy feeling
Yeah, them chills you used to get 'em
Now you're getting ******* sick of looking at 'em
You swore you'd never hit 'em; never do nothing to hurt 'em
Now you're in each other's face spewing venom in your words when you spit them
You push, pull each other's hair, scratch, claw, bit 'em
Throw 'em down, pin 'em
So lost in the moments when you're in them
It's the rage that took over it controls you both
So they say you're best to go your separate ways
Guess that they don't know you 'cause today that was yesterday
Yesterday is over, it's a different day
Sound like broken records playing over but you promised her
Next time you show restraint
You don't get another chance
Life is no Nintendo game
But you lied again
Now you get to watch her leave out the window
Guess that's why they call it window "pain"

[Chorus - Rihanna:]
Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
But that's alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

[Verse - Eminem:]
Now I know we said things, did things that we didn't mean
And we fall back into the same patterns, same routine
But your temper's just as bad as mine is
You're the same as me
But when it comes to love you're just as blinded
Baby, please come back
It wasn't you, baby it was me
Maybe our relationship isn't as crazy as it seems
Maybe that's what happens when a tornado meets a volcano
All I know is I love you too much to walk away though
Come inside, pick up your bags off the sidewalk
Don't you hear sincerity in my voice when I talk
Told you this is my fault
Look me in the eyeball
Next time I'm ******, I'll lay my fist at the drywall
Next time? There will be no next time!
I apologize even though I know its lies
I'm tired of the games I just want her back
I know I'm a liar
If she ever tries to ******* leave again
Im'a tie her to the bed and set this house on fire
I'm just gonna

[Outro - Rihanna:]
Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
But that's alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
lyrics "love the way you lie" by Eminem ft Rihanna #International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women Awareness (11/25/13) #Stop using your strength to Abusing women (This goes out to all the men!) :D
Ashish Gaur Aug 2018
I close my eyes
To look into your eyes.
I take a deep breath
To savour your fragrance.

I dip my conscience
In the figment of your imagination.
I lose my senses
In the sparkles of your smile.

My heartbeat slows down
To the sound of your presence.
My world spins around
To be a part of your essence.

My soul resonates
With a gentle touch of your palm.
My spirit resuscitates
With a glimpse of your thought.

Tonight I swim
In the sea of your memories.
Tonight I surrender
In the world of your dreams.

Tonight I relive those moments
With you in my mind.
Tonight I let go of all doubts
With you by my side.
Ah, why, why is t'is desire still here, Vladimir?
T'is generous, yes, and unmistakable desire
to love thee, and imagine thee here-
fidgeting softly and so tenderly
within th' nourishing charms of my arms.
And thy bronze hair!
Swiftly moving away, along with thy own fantasy
as I rub my palm across its comeliness
and bestow a kiss on its fairness.
Oh, what a morbid, morbid image!
An image I should dream of not!
I am allowed not to love thee, allowed not!
For I am his already, and might just be his forever-
and thus to befriend all his mistakes,
bear all his troublesome resolutions,
and cheer and sheepishly flourish
in th' seemingly very occurrences of his triumphs.
And his days, Vladimir-are supposedly my ways,
my ways towards yon now unbearable fascination,
whose murky door is a key to fate, ah-
a fate to my mind, and assumed, t'ough dreaded, salvation.
But look, look how my conscience is burnt!
O, burnt upon thinking of leading t'is life-
and th' remnants of my thy age, without thee!
Burnt so atrociously together as it shalt be-
with my loitering delight, which lies just, tragically,
in th' layers of thy salubrious lips, and
th' very sole guiltlessness of thy blue eyes.
O, how immortal is its blueness, Vladimir-
in whom shalt never t'ere be mortal misery!
A mortal, mortal misery-
like yon one of t'at roaring seagull,
suffocating and out choking upon its first fly
over th' highlands next to th' sea
and behindst its deafening nightmare across th' sky
innocent and trembling, in such coldness,
without having but anywhere to lie;
meanwhile trampled along by th' sinister heaven
until its tower of love, and wreaths of wisdom, die.
But look at t'ose angels above 'im!
With paeans so eloquent and fulled by eagerness,
shalt t'ey sing above its eccentric grave-
ah, but only a grave of stateliness, and not 'is body
until wherein a touch of t'eir finger
wakes 'im back up, and resuscitates 'is rays of laughter
so t'at it celebrates forever eternity-
and in return, its very own eternity, forever.

And here I am-like a pale tree, standing *****
'mongst most of th' nightly valley-
animated with green light, and shapes of madness
in th' entirety of whose torso;
so t'at I wilt, with such a wildness in my heart,
hover over thee against in today's dreams,
and thy magic which is buried humbly in thy Moscow.
O, my Russian prince, for th' battles of my heart thou hath won
and from whose sarcasm thou hath shone.
I am drawn, drawn, hungrily-and selfishly, to thee!
And I caught thee, again, yesterday, behind th' bushes,
far not from th' rich forests and distant gravel paths,
waving at me, with a gentle smile on thy lips
defined t'ere so clearly, so young and free!
O, but cannot I declare t'at I love thee,
how sadly and tortuously!
Ah, for I am entwined with him only,
how thou but came late to my life-
oh, if only t'ose dreadful seconds hath but never existed!
Remorse, remorse, and accusations are but th' mere ones
t'at I deserve; and shalt forever just I preserve
for from thy love I canst never run;
and t'is ode shalt be meaningless and just fun
as to nature I wilt do harm
should I ever be swirled lost in thy charms.

Ah, Vladimir! I reckon thy love is as poisonous
as Eden's evil fruit; and soon I consumed my sight-
by peering up into thy eyes;
I caught th' sense of boyish starlight,
which lulled me t'en to a new sleep, all day and night.
Thy very mirth is to me laughs;
but thy sadness is to me tears.
But all thy touches are to me love;
and of which no-one shalt ever hear.
For thinking of thee is a sin, my love-
and a wound to him, and his course a fear.
How forbidden, forbidden thou art, to me!
But sadly I canst only love thee!
Oh, Vladimir, I doth love thee, with all th' strictness
and assurances t'at I might have-as all th' powers I may still save.
My Vladimir! And in th' afterlife,
with blossoms of snow in our cold Moscow
Might just we be t'ere for our tomorrow;
and cherish t'is end of our strained sorrow.

And just hath I always done,
'Tis time needed I retreatst from my poetry;
and faced, ah, faced t'is troublesome relapse
of my reality. Oh, t'ese wan, surreal chores!
And t'at knock on my door-which is insidiously
his, and his only.
But I shalt think of thee again, t'is evening-
and may just be more ever after,
with such an ardent thoughtfulness in my mind
and violent; as how is t'is craving, for making thee mine.
Glen Brunson Aug 2013
I met a woman
with a trumpet tongue
who played her words on
paper, white as truces.
she told me through my stereo
"we've both had days
where the phoenix didn't rise".

we' have all had days
where the phoenix did not rise.
but thank goodness
my birthday was the first time
I heard your lips part
and saw your teeth spill oceans
of blue blankets across my jellyfish eyes.

I wish everyone understood the irony
of writing love poems to a lesbian,
but my hands never seemed to reach
the ends of my arms
like I want them to.

They always get stuck dancing somewhere
in the middle.
playing a tune only they can sway to
knowing all the steps
bouncing off every syllable
while others let their wrists go limp
as if the puppeteers needed strings
to tune their fiddle
for a happy song
somewhere far far away.

so take my breath again
keep it wherever it is that you keep
the gasps our ears give you
as your words pull the
heartstrings we forgot we had
that we forgot how to play
to wave our wet-noodle fingers and
conduct a life worth living
so full of blatant love
not afraid to make no sense
my chest was an rusty locket
the day before I heard you
and now I am so full of echoes
from it's tiny, timid click.

For Andrea,
you are a sketchbook muse,
something I have to guess at on my
worst days when there are no words
and the rain smells like a swan song
from the sky.

you kept me writing when there
was nothing left to draw
or sing or smell or see anymore.
when there was black smog
between my eardrums pounding out
the dying breath of clouds
you held me through tinny earbuds
and poems I etched in the moss
running over back roads in my mind

so I hope
you find peace
every time you find a microphone
and that someday, I'll play you a tune
which echoes through you,
with a tiny, timid
click
and a full breath
that resuscitates the open blue
until we are both whole beneath it
until, again, we are true.
There's a dark corner that lay in each of our souls.
Taking hostage of secrets, never to be told.
So be careful ***, you're running on a tight rope.
You never know what could happen...don't get too close.

A breath of fresh air, different from the norm.
you're like the calm before the storm.
& the deeper I look into your eyes, the more I want to endure…
what exactly this storm has in store.

Sun is seeping through yesterday’s sorrow,
No longer caught up in the thought of tomorrow.
Colors of the world bleed from dull to iridescent.
Nature’s soundtrack takes turns reminding us of its presence.

Together we walk the path, into the eye of the storm.
Surrounded by chaos, once we reach the center life takes on a new form.
There is beauty most commonly missed, in the simplest of things.
The more open your mind, the more your day will bring.

Let loose before the chaos seeps in.
Fall into the clouds with me…let the fun begin.
Laughter to color rainbows, help feed the tress.
Watch as the grass resuscitates, reminding us the breath.

Sunsets never so bright, & skies never so blue.
Smiles to reflect the sunlight, lighting up the world around you.
Music sending vibes, tangible to my heart.
And for some reason my mind is telling me…this is only the start.
November 5, 2012
Born in your adoration
Lost in your embrace
Like a coca cola you're  giving me happiness
Smiles all flooding and I feel I'm sinking in
I'm craving for you like i found me gold
For your face sparkles more like diamond
I feel my heart falling
Could it be gravity!
Could it be your magnetic field!
Lightning strikes me once and i wake up in a bed of roses laying next to you
Your breath resuscitates me back to life
And your soft tender touch massages my body and makes it feel alright.
The cool breeze suddenly travels across my body
I open my eyes and realize I'm all alone and that feeling cuts me deep
Why do you make me feel this way? I yell
I send my "I love you "message through the wind
And before it reaches you
I see you kissing another man
I get this feeling "I'll never be yours" but please stop having control over me.
Life made it easier for us to be strangers and not lovers.
I will simply remain your secret admirer.
Heartbreaking I should say
Simon Quperlier Oct 2013
The outlined shadows of angel-like apparitions, and I'm soaked in anxiety like the wingless houseflies,
Where can I find peace in the midst of hell and nirvana?
My soul is torn apart and my body a rigor mortis,
I feel the blows under the baobab,
Where is the Lord? Where is the God that sheds light? Where is the God that resuscitates dead souls?
The devil has ****** my spirit in the dark hole, I'm now groping in the murk with my dogged effort,
I have been a survivor of many months, of the battle between the devil and the many generations, the way to find peace is to rest in peace, No! And what about my mama?
The divine lady who enshrines his son with a prayer, this woman tells me of how coward the devil is, she talks of the galaxies and the Hail Marys,
But I'm not dead yet, she is the reason why I'm still alive, and why I should live to 72
everywhere*
on our planet earth
we can view
paradoxes
nature is the provider
of these anomalies
as a two sided coin
so divergent
in perspective
an example
shall herein
be shown

a
leafless
tree
seemingly
dead
stands
in
mortis
during
the
winter's
cold
availing
upon
its
limbs
a
lifelessness

yet
the
tepid
air
of
spring's
rejuvenation
revives
and
resuscitates
what
was
thought
to
be
terminal
in
its
branches

the character of nature
is dual
she renders a contradiction
in her
*enigmatic jewel
Alexander Black Apr 2015
60 seconds to go
My heart is pumping a marathon
Each beat a new threat to explode
Hitting me like a dozen syringes
Call the coroner
Cause of Death:
Adrenaline Overdose

45 seconds
I practice every coming moment
In my mind
Every mistake hits me at once
The imagination humiliation
Acts just like a garrote
My every breath is strained
Lungs burning, full of embers
White out the death certificate
New cause of death:
Suffocation

30 seconds
My flight or fight goes haywire
Yet I can do neither
The walls start moving
This room threatens to be my tomb
It is too late to fight
This demise is of my own accord
I want to fly
Yet my wings are clipped
Retract the obit
I fell to my doom

15 more
I hear my doom approaching
It calls to me
Every syllable shocks my system
A jolt to remind me that I'm going to fail
I shudder with every word
I close my eyes, pray
Count the seconds until doomsday
Cause of death:
Fear

10 seconds
I take a breath
9
It stays
8
I stand up to face the onslaught
7
I walk toward doom
6
My breath fights its way out
Only 5
Climbing fear turns to steady panic
4 more
Another heart attack hits
3
Another breath
2
Out
1
I step forward

The lights hit
The fear vanishes
I am no longer dead
Alive
The crowd before me resuscitates me
Every line I dropped in my head
Landed with precise expertise
Each cue struck
Every scene played to perfection
Cancel the death notice
On this stage
I am revived
Scrollin past ol’ conversations
and wonderin what it is I saw in him

the hate, the anger, the stupidity
the flaws, the unwillin’ness to change

somethin resuscitates deep within me an I struggle
to push it down so the regret don’t drown me
I made my choice--I love ‘im
there ain’t no backin down now

the look in his eyes, the curve of his lips
the broad chest yet untouched beneath his shirt
lookin at ‘im, I’d jest dive into it--no questions asked
turnin ‘round, I feel what he’s stitched of an I flinch

but I em unable to walk away from the choice I made
It's funny, I thought this was such a meaningful statement a year ago but now I realize just how stupid I was to have feelings like these. I really feel a disconnect to this poem. I guess that's why I'm posting it now.
Sarina Mar 2013
Minnows **** the throb out of my eyelids
where I jumped in the great pond and was filled with brine
each fleck, a pebble for them to slurp like soup.

I will remember this moment by the clothes I wore
take it out on yellow ruffles, navy strata  
hung attractively on metal shelves but would faint if I were
to wear either once again. The accessories were similar.
Had a fish unbuttoned my blouse he would see
buttons where another female’s ******* would coarsen.

All I had meant to do was water a plant, feed the fish
but their container had grown wool:
I must dive in! It is better to drown than consult a quiet god.
Upon arrival, I realized that this was like entering
another species’ bloodstream. The waves sway your torso.

No wonder these blankets have become pink.
Behind is a freshwater sea, accustomed to the float but not
the dreaded sting. I have even drowned a few times:
I shall curse the flounder who resuscitates me at bottom.
Confined to this turbulent path
Ancient and hollow
Afflictions  in the  sweet frost  
A contorted reflection of the river is you
Snowflakes glistening, leaving prisms in the sky
The  certainty of  winter  resuscitates  ones  vitality
The  greater we flutter  
The higher we fly
Jack Trainer Jun 2014
The heart beats on its own accord
I am free to control its cadence
But love is its only ruler
My despotic master

Try, as I will
My hardened heart resists not
Love’s melodious voice
My despotic mistress

She reaches in my chest
And resuscitates the blackened cinder
I thought you lifeless
My despotic love
Mamolefe Jun 2023
I carry Love.

I carry Love.

I carry, a love that resuscitates my ancestors while I breath in laughter.

Where the ball inside my throat hurls fire - makes love to the sun
scares shadows
intimidates death and
offends darkworkers.

A love where God’s water breastfeeds me at the bottom of the ocean - baptising my blood and transforming my saliva into gold.

It knows me, wants me, and always,
finds me.

I carry Love.
full name Aug 2014
I'm not weak

I'm a warrior
My face painted with black mascara during battle
My body painted with red blood after I fight
My head screams while
My body screams while
My mouth screams while
My lungs run out

The enemy surprises me whenever they get the chance
They come in the night
3 AM is the closest your body is to death on a daily basis
I'm sure my reasoning isn't the same as yours
Or I hope

The enemy is sabotaging me
Taking over my hands as it shakes out
2 more pills
5 more pills
8 more pills
Here it goes down better with a little cough syrup
How sweet of the voices

My left arm has been badly wounded
The drips down my fingertips
I'll fight on
I'll make it out alive

Sometimes they find me in the bathroom
And right before I'm about to drown
The enemy resuscitates me
What a *******
Just let it happen

The crash hits around now
I fall asleep
On my floor
My t shirt with drips of blood

I wake in the morning, victorious.
Time for school.
i left the spigot dripping last night
and now the whole home is submerged —
archipelagic scraps of tatterdemalion
things line the floor like dead bodies
and poesy atrocities. but i have not
in mind, this disfiguring lament.

1     Take for example, a fine line
       darting towards your *******
2     And bend it towards the direction
       of genealogy or analogue fire
3     Henceforth commend contention
       and differentiate beyond hapless
       extensions of body to body
       mirror to mirror
4    Where all axioms define the universe
       and there is an epistemic
       afterthought looming past the
       arithmetic of things such is that
       of a steady punctuation mid-birth
5    Take the corporeal and eat Suns,
        thrash the Moon like how a bed
        is meant to be whacked by the
        spanked edge
6      Cold resuscitates flame and flares
        congeal all frigidity — or at least
        arbitrarily, remember it by whim
        caprice and then fade out
7      As misery clots in the same vein
        pulsing with different blood
        which we shall ensconce with
        laughter — a drunken hilarity
8      And then oppose the dictum
        that forced us to the point
        of recalcitrance, rousing hungered
        heat with memory of waking ice
9      Recount what I said about
        such opposites complementing
        each other in precise farce
10    In this exact exhibition faint
        upon recollections — going far
        inverse to poles only tells another
        distance covered by wide strides
        and a place nearly forgotten
        rekindled by newer ones.
Melissa Rose Jan 2019
Twilight paints persimmon
onto cold winter trees
just before the dusky night beckons
them into a dreamless sleep

a subdued canvas
enlivened with vivid hues
resuscitates dead branches
and they sway to its melodious tune

until every faint ray scatters
as darkness shrouds the sky
civil twilight attempts to turn back time
and failed to convince it not to fly

the drifting sun cast its final shadows
albeit tempted he won’t be persuaded
so the moon silently gathers her stars
to shimmer where twilight has faded

undulating in the night’s breeze
wrapped in the crispness of its linen
the cold winter trees sleep
waiting for dawn to paint them crimson
1/20/19
Aspiring,
Dreading,
Forgetting.

As soon as it leaves it returns,
Unburned:
The wishes,
The yearning,
With the pain of wanting.

Somehow I want to make someone proud,
But I've never met them,
I'm sure I never will,
They have no clue how hard I'm trying,
Just to make myself heard,
While desperately making sure I
Seep into the background.

Deep down I know I can do many things,
Or maybe lately that reaches the surface,
Until it drowns again,
Then somehow survives,
Resuscitates itself from nothing.
It's called my motivation,
My effort to succeed.

But out of all these things,
I will not allow one to be trying to please someone,
Who has:
Never been pleased with me;
Doesn't own the right to be proud;
Or have the chance to find me;
Convince themselves they can make amends.
I believe in second chances,
Just not for people who never even started.

Next I see someone else,
Whose only in my dreams.
He makes me worthwhile,
For a little bit,
And I'm able to smile.
He keeps me safe,
Gives me enough love to take,
And let's me breathe again.

Each time it never fails
To remind me,
How I need this,
As much as the air I breathe.
It gives me things,
Things which I need.
Apparently escapism,
Isn't allowed to be reality,
But I'll keep coming back to it,
Just to get through the days,
Even if it shouldn't be keeping me awake.
Secrecy.

Felicity quietly enters the water

to drown .



Secretly he  had been watching. Dives in to save her.

Pulling her back to shore, her wide mouth screaming.



Sincerely he resuscitates her



wide mouth on wide mouth



Secretly she enjoys it.
Aditya Roy Apr 2019
Asteroid O’Belt Sydney Junction (Beer in Bar-Alley)
With the right words, you can make music on any planet of spatial arrangement. Dark matter keeps the balance of eccentric space, where a blue-suited handsome man, shines; however blackholes lurk to turn Spike Spiegel into a dream where he lives. Is it a dream or has he ever felt more alive than being back in the action with the moral courage that threatens his very existence Don’t forget he has a gun strictly for assurance. With warships, there lurks a year in 4050. 2000 years in progress, we may have evolved in terms of interactions. Fast forward, there are different people in whole new worlds. Like epiphanies, these characters take their place in the chatter of a celestial crowded cinema in downtown Shinichiro street.
The doctors chatter with dark undertones and hushed intentions:
“Well, it’s not like the phones are cheaper. Ever since we got their first. The phones have come sooner than virtual intelligence take place in this ghost.”
“The ghost seems to work actively.”
“Seems to be shutting down in fact.”
Shadows cast on the processes of entropy there many optimistic pursuits for the present.
But, in this modern civilization, what do we have the battles and gambles among the bounty hunters interested in staying in the loop of where the money flows. But, the real artists are the creators in this desert of opportunity.

“Woah, Spike.” – Spike hynogogically resuscitates from his cybernetic sphere
“Wake Up.”- Jet
Presentation matters but, the old technology rumbles in the cosmos among the old cosmopolitans you’ve had in your fruitful day at a casino of blackjack and bounty hunting. Somehow, Faye Valentine comes with a bang and a bad gun in the back. Holstered but focused on the game.
“Fold the chips, for you?”- bent slightly over the steep end of gambling. Mrs Valentine can’t seem to get out her mind her job as dealer for Table 2 in a hexagonal room of full-scale gambling operations.
Clearly, absorbed in the rattling crowds of these snakes in the rabble. Or maybe there are actually snakes. ***** it.
“Raise.”- Dewey Striker
“See that’s a million.”- Faye Valentine
“Let’s hand it to the strong gentleman for his courage, but, exciting game of Woolong and Woes or simply Poker”- Table 1
“Nowhere as good as these drinks are in Jupiter. If I win, I’ll write it all down in my journal.”- Table 2
“Probably, better to put myself out there at the right time. You raise too.”
“Earth’s building itself. Well, people are the same.” – Table 1
“Oh imagine, if we had more planets to destroy.” – Dewey Striker
“With that, money? Yeah, baby. Write down a cheque next time.” – Faye on Table 2
“To **** the one among us, who has whereabouts about a notebook that had all the people who have been linked to the death of Spike Spiegel killed would take us years.” - Faye
“What!” – Table 2, someone wins
“Nice try, but, that book’s all the history remaining of someone I knew.” – Faye Valentine says daringly.
“The notebook stays with me, until you have enough to buy off the notebook. I’ll start with 100,000 woolongs. How about that, missey? You know the notebook of all the accomplices that ever worked with a Doohan.”
“Do right honey, you’re lucky you’re in the right room. I need the information and I’m a rich gal.” - Faye
Spike and Jet in Discussion:
“Apparently, Vicious had barely managed to finish him off.”
“Do the others know?”
“Faye remembered, but, let it go.”
Recluse in Exclusive Reminiscences (Part I)
Jet & Spike completely lost in the intricateness of the bounty-hunting. Might be a terrible idea to eat bell peppers and beef. But, if you’ve got an aching stomach from ton of drinking and stairwell trips, you’re gonna have a hangover. If the Prairie Oysters were still not his thing, only thing that changed is that the more he drank, the less he liked the planet. For his favorite there had to be a special occasion like a bottle of the finest whiskey that the joint would serve from the golden days of heart-warming company in the heart of this Japanese place.
“Oh but there was one time. When I ate…”
“That was long back 4001,
Commandeer and imagine my surprise when the ole Siren, Jet. That’s his name; there was a need to rename Spike Spiegel to the old school be-bop that pretty much enriched the video star. There was a bomb, I don’t know what happened; there are piles of rubble and pretty much every bounty hunter missed it.
“Says, he wants to destroy a planet. Somehow, there’s some secret stone interwoven with the need of the hydrogen-powered machinery to change the deuterium in the accelerator.”
“Well, we could use the quantized possibilities and run an algorithm with the specific plasma type.”
“But, that would mean we would have to bypass the gravity field blockers.”
Simply put, there was some riff-raff about the bags in the first place. Kept them off the scheme of people who were idiomatic in their habits, and that seemed to do the trick.
“Well, the Francium is resonant with the cell rejuvenation heuristics.”
"So, go to Pluto. Where do I find the little kid? After since I got to you. The dog."
"Spike, Faye's not welcome. Leave her out of this business."
"We made it clear, but, no parting ways unless we find the guy who erased her memories."
"Yeah, maybe you could contact her. But, let's keep it straight."
"Fade into the television; before the victory is yours. Television is on an old couple of people who have coffee and beans; saying them both remind me of all the people I owed at the hot-dog store we just passed by."
"Might be a good idea, right?"
"You think so?"
"Yeah."
"What about Faye and the little kid."
"One of the most annoying kids. He'll find us if we surface on this awful map of nowhere."
"Well, we are on Jupiter. Everywhere is nowhere here."
"You've been here a while."
"The days get longer, each time."
"Yeah, what about the weather? Always turbulence in the skies. ****, it’s cold."
“We’re on the moons, Spike. We have air-heaters in our lousy, ******* spaceship.”
Jet, do you ever maybe wonder giving us a visit, here on Pluto. It was the farthest planet I could think of. Changing my life was great. I won't meet, and I'll remember you as a person, a stranger now in my own paralyzed heart beat. I can't feel my jobs get any more exciting. Vicious happened long back. God knows. Now, we steal back from society."
"God only knows." - Jet, baffled by no name of the planet
No name was given; however, that made Spike rather elated with the heightened discussions happening on Mars. There the assumption they made about their friend had concluded on Pluto. Here on Jupiter, you are always working with the better people to make a living. Too many moons, and further than the Asteroid Belt still lies the interstellar galaxy all beyond our amazing stipends. All of them, owe it to themselves, bounties are perfect to fill your midnight blues. And nothing to snack gives you the existential jeepers. Better smoke before evening kung fu time before you flow like water into the background of the Bounty-Hunting business. Once you're dead, you can't come back alive, but, freedom is a specious young kid floating in space and hacking your whereabouts. He’s about 19 years old.
“Your friends would be proud of you.” – Edward seems to have beat a chess grandmaster. The same old adversary from the blues of the old loss. Edward, you’re smart. Figure out, where’s Spike.
“Spike, where are you?” – Dewey Striker
“Can I help you?”- Faye Valentine
I suppose we must have misread the situation, but, the cross and frowning kid is not your f
Holding up a picture of Spike at the beahc.
“I wonder I should go back.” – Faye hurrying to her Casino table
Pack your bags and umph
You’re leaning into yourself, and the legs feel fine and the peak of my appeal seems to be, my whole package. But, even a gun couldn’t save him from someone she thought she lost forever. Spike was the only person in the galaxy who she knew was dead for sure. You can never tell in such a large galaxy, but, there are better views of sunsets in Venus. Did I want to die? When I knew he died in the fire of bullets and completely riddled by a long series of hovering flashbacks.
Story Part II (Continued Clueless And Moving)
The windows must open to a better life. Spike’s hungry.
“Well, your smokes are in the bag you carried. Didn’t bother stealing a single one of those Macintoshes you got from that place on Earth.”
“Jesus, man what part not touching other people’s stuff, don’t you get?”
“The part where it concerns us paying for the food stamps.”
Spike quizzically asks “Do they still do that?”
“Jet, don’t tell me we’re living off the previous million we had in woolongs. Not some ****’s mushrooms this time.”
“By the way, forgot to tell you. The recorder is on, I decided to get one of those VHS tapes.”
“Yeah, about that?”
“Hmm.” –Jet
“Faye got kind of emotional on the “day.”” – Spike
Government data shows that you two are bounty hunters. Those passing wormhole customs need to pay a price. See the sign.”Await your turn. Or pay up your woolongs.”
Jet yells at Spike, and seemingly hastened,” Seems like we have to pay up.You guys charge a grand for this?”
“You mean we didn’t come for more questioning?”- Spike
“Well, Spike we have to stick to what the customs say. And sure every single woolong counts as a bit of developed product. How about Mr. Agent? Do we get a free pass for a good ole’ blues gig?”
“Mr. Spiegel, please explain to your friend over here. You cannot go without the code for the customs department.”
“Spike, Faye gave us some sort of code in the back of the letters.”
“Seriously?”
“How did she know I was alive at the time?”
“Well, I told her you wouldn’t have survived the bullets. But, you could escape from the bloodiest gunfights in the history of this team.”
“Mr. Spiegel, I wonder if you would be caring to ask the services of our executives at your cryogenic storage?”
“How do they know, Jet?”- Spike
Turns out, the cryogenic patients are monitored. This is a sacred bond of servility to a life beyond the mortality of humanity and immorality of society. IN the end the immortality and the authenticity of your identity lives on. They called it the “Ghost.”
“Do they know about G.H.O.S.T?”
“Mr. Spiegel, we are getting late. Can we please finish this easily without involving organizations of vast power and affluence.”
“Growth of Hyper Oscillating Specimen Testing”
“Wait, what?”
“I mean we have to get out of here fast and we do not have time before Vicious comes and kills us.”
How We Escaped?
Basically, we turned to our best instincts as to whether a secret lurked behind the planet’s corrupt system. Jupiter had become a place of leisure, but, the alcohol was getting to our minds.
“Yeah, we checked names.”
“We checked faces, and no sign of those doctors.”
“The dream doctors seem like real nightmares.” – Jet
“Good one, Jet. But, having the nerve to ask the customs agent about Vicious really put him off.” - Spike
“Oh, man. That scared him.” - Jet
A cold beer was opened, and what happened afterwards is unreal; and as we approach our planet Pluto. We follow the invite, and the code is some sort of invite. If it was going down, me and Spike were gonna be there for sure.
This is my book. It is about how Spika and Jet encounter some doctors involved in the past. And Faye tries to reach out, but, they can't get past customs to catch her before it is too late.
zebra Apr 2021
there's a  fire in this madhouse of Venus
where unattainable romance gives birth
to cunty darkness and pleading clawish fingers
to obsessions of strange mental constructs
something about blood and tears
birthing black ******* and vampires
with vermillion mouths shaped in circles
that gorge themselves on violent thrusting *****
and ***** resembling mushed faced pugs
just asking for it

a woman's eyes burn like cigarettes
and tongues snake into esophageal
swoon revivals of glorious deliverance
flashing souls flit like street lights
and flames of wraith hair
she begs to be strangled with a black chord
and kissed till her brain blurs fizz

she dances
wigwam wiggle and clutches
like a sliding oyster
licking my *******
**** ***** and ruby ***** 
gagging repeatedly onto the hilting root  
falling into submission
for her dark ******* god Faustian thing
a little doll with mythic eyes 
a ******* wraparound mouthy wigged ***** 
with a baloney-pony disco stick orifice

will you **** me with your **** sir
a dark hunger gnaws deep within
so bleed me merciless
like a gushing artery
make me red dead in love in bed
butter **** and properly spread
pound me like a hell ***** ****** 
in a burning five alarm 
emergency suicide ****
-
i corkscrew her 
into a writhing
murderous wreckage 
as she dissolves under me 
like a sugar cube in hot tea and blood
christened by a magic wand
that forces her round belly 
up and down like a toilet plunger

her ***** drools like runny yolks
a deep homework 
the shamanic decent 
an illusive weighing of the heart 
the sweet meat priestess 
who resuscitates abandoned legends
making my ***** click like castanets 
a Mr. Winkey party
spewing Icelandic yogurt
her teeth rattle
as her brains and one eyeball 
hang off my **** 
like pig trough slobber

her face smiles 
and vomits peaches

there's moon glitter
in your beautiful hair
my darling

God save the kink
Tom Alan Quest Jun 2018
In my chest I bring a pain
Which in time accept
As a stubborn implant
Right in my right chest

This pain knows not where it beats
Nor does it come from near here
But it pulses deeply through
And it almost sounds like you

In the timbre of its screams
That vibrate the thorax
And puncture when you weep
I live memories of sites

Yet it is here she belongs now
Whatever was once made of her
And even if she’s not aware
And even if you’re not yet aware
I am:
It lives in my right chest

What a patron stepmother
Crude lioness heart
Synchronic pounding in negative resounds
The **** acute pain
Of this machine I carry
Implanted, conflated, pointy

I imported it from our nights
And stares traded in summertime
Iris tinged with shavings from the sun
Cut up from the negatives of the blinds

And in negative pounding
Conducting in this right chest of mine
This implant of torment
Torment and own delicate shine

So delicate it may take the torment and make
At times: simple discomfort
Others: a happy life in a moment

And who may be source of this pain
Of this heart in negative
Creating only torment
And what gorgeous torment
Which at worse discomforts
At best resuscitates my life in a moment
And turns me back to us

This pain and anguish
In adolescent torpor
Unrealising you made of
Me the glad recipient

Where to grow and lodge
Like the lost bullet in time
That naked ****** universe
Formed into material emotion

Animal biological material
That from this story I have with you
Gives anxiety during bed time
Your anxiety
But that pounds in negative
As the now accepted implant
When it comes dark longing
Of us not seeing what is to come

It’s just that here in pain and everything
Beats content from imperfection
So beautiful and sinistral
In mine deep dextral chest
Your youthful beating heart
Satsih Verma Aug 2017
Misreading―
the time zone, clock
refuses to rewind.

The brain shuts,
absenting the self.
No seeing no hearing.

The street,
resuscitates you.
Train whistles to take you away.

What home?
There was no destination.
You will not reach anywhere.
annh May 2019
Hope to be...a hopeless romantic...hoping for the best...when all hope is lost.

Hope, I’ve always maintained, is like waiting with enthusiasm for something that is never going to happen. Such dedication!

And then I second-guessed myself.

Does it matter if what is hoped for eventuates or remains perpetually elusive? Is the practice of hope an event in itself; the lift in the shoulders, the spring in the step, the intangible high which gets us through? Maybe, that’s what hope is, no more or less than that. A survival mechanism of the highest order. An antidote to despair and disappointment which resuscitates the spirit, revitalises our connection to the world we live in, and inspires our momentum forward.

Hope is a self-generated experience which, with a select few thoughts or words, we can create for our own or for another’s benefit at any time and under any circumstances, irrespective of what is gained or lost in actuality. Granted, our individual perspective and personal biography directs our ability to conjure this sweet synaptic syntax, but with practice it can be ours for the taking.

Hope allies itself with truth and makes a friend of acceptance. It recognises what is possible and what is not. Hope has no expiry date but what we hope for does, and as such, hopes can be re-expressed, discarded, or adjusted in concert with our emotional evolution. Only with the advantage of hindsight can we declare a hope false or lost, and so often this declaration is made by an observer rather than the affected party.

Hope will always precede the outcome to which it is applied, a little like predicting the future, and therein lies the rub. As far as I’m concerned, there is no such thing as false hope, only that which is falsely applied. It is up to us to discern the difference.

'When you have lost hope, you have lost everything. And when you think all is lost, when all is dire and bleak, there is always hope.'
- Pittacus Lore, I Am Number Four
The wind
A temptress
Always willing
To dance and caress
Revitalizing
She Resuscitates me
Kai May 18
Reach for me rightly
in the morning
with your hands that got us into
this mess in the first place

The weight of the grip
that perpetrated your adolescence
offers air back to my lungs
resuscitates me
your hands commit us
Thomas Goss Jun 2020
1.

in the velvet distance

a sequence of yearnings

emerges from the zig-zagging bees

of frantic motion



2.

wherever the green grenade of spring

explodes into bounty

is where I want to be



feeling the exhaling light

of a mile-high rainforest

welling up inside my heart



but the path to love

is strewn with mines

and each reckless step

calls down lightning from the sky

calls down thunderclouds

soaked with the gasoline rags

of cursed wisdom



3.

yet

a kiss

planted in

a weeping eye



releases the soothing breath



of rainforests

opens this clenched fist

stuffed full with mossy heart clumps



resuscitates

this flatlining humanity



for the mirrored burning

of stars and minds

continues to light

our way forward



4.

if we gather the sands of synchronicity

from the corners of our eyes



then adorn them onto

these diamond wheels

of hurt and kindness



maybe the shimmer and the shame

of emotion will cause the disintegration

of this destructive machine

of sporadic tenderness



5.

though

the billion needles of regret

leave their mark,

I dream of being paved over

with kaleidoscopic scars of the present



of strutting

with painted feet



of being

perfectly at home

like the eyes of dolphins

captured in mid-air



6.

so let’s lay waste

to the false equilibrium

that streams down

from star-bright nights



yes

harmony resides

in the swoosh and twirl

of our love-hungry eyes



yet it is a false

stay of execution

between her thighs



where the last meal

of her dark almond eyes

presses back the winds of volatility

for you are still alone



though each caress

still presses back

the winds of volatility



and although all the reaching out

seems to be a flag of surrender

it doesn’t matter



for who we are tends to get

splattered against the canvas

anyway



and what we have

is time’s shifting hourglass

leaving choking imprints



around our necks

so let’s lay waste

to the false equilibrium

that streams down

from every star-bright night



let’s ride this heart-shackling beast

into the wild violet expanse

while gripping the reigns

with wind-scorched fingertips



we’ll smother fear itself

with the gristle of our hate

which cuts carbon sharp

like the razor-hard eyes of orphans



7.

in the velvet distance

a sequence of yearnings

emerges from the zig-zagging bees

of frantic motion



wherever the green grenade of spring

explodes into bounty

is where we will be



kisses

planted in

weeping eyes



shall resuscitate

our flatlining humanity



for the mirrored burning

of stars and minds

continues to light

our way forward



and who we are tends to get

splattered against the canvas

anyway



and if you look

from far enough away

you see that each wildly meandering streak

eventually becomes reminiscent

of being perfectly at home



like the eyes of dolphins

captured in mid-air



like the eyes of dolphins

captured in mid-air
From my book, and the .pdf version available for free:
https://holdingbruisedroseblossoms.wordpress.com/about/

— The End —