"reunite" poems
Dear Unity, be proud of the work you've done.
Working day and night, leaving complaints to none.
With your calm blue aura, full of peace.
People from sadness and separation, you release.
Dear Unity, extending the branches of your unifying tree,
Watching over like a flock of birds flying free.
Amalgamate the opposing forces of destruction and war,
Spare them from the unnecessary deaths and gore.
Dear Unity, reunite us with our long lost friends,
So there will be happiness and laughter as broken hearts mend.
Clear the miserable loneliness haunting around,
And stop at no cost until the cure is found.
Dear Unity, oh unity, our guardian angel in disguise,
Getting rid of the hatred, betrayal and the emotion; despise.
Dear Unity, you are all for one and one for all,
Thank you for being there every time we fall.
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
Excuse me, sir, your pants are on fire.
Yes, i am talking to you, sir.
This is quite a mess you have made,
you starry-eyed dreamer.
Not that it was perfect in the beginning.
Nothing is.
When my grandfather got old,
he made sure to dress well.
If he was to die on any
given day, he intended to
do it in his Sunday best.
My grandfather died in a
unisex hospital gown.
When i was growing up,
Mom always made sure
i wore clean underwear.
It would be shameful
to die in ***** ones.
Speaking of growing up,
i was raised on Reaganomics.
It doesn't matter which side of
the aisle you stand on these days,
because Reagan defeated communism
through the clever use of money.
When my grandmother was set to pass,
she faced the changing seasons with
poise and dignity. She was
ready to move on, to reunite with
loved ones lost.
My grandmother died in a
unisex hospital gown.
My best friend, Peter, didn't
put much stock in appearances.
He was funny and sarcastic.
We all loved him like a
brother. Peter's mom buried
him in brand new Ecko
gear. He died in boxer
shorts on the floor of a
ramshackle apartment
blue in the face from a
****** overdose.
Thank god none of these
people will ever need healthcare.
Mr. President, sir, i am no
Republican.
i am an American.
You do remember us, don't you?
How silly of me...of course you don't.
You were busy watching your legacy.
i would have watched it better, if
it had been my name
at risk.
My name is all i have.
When Bill Clinton was president,
he lied about getting a
*******
But we forgave him.
It was just a *******
It's not like it was our
privacy or healthcare at stake.
Or our economy.
Have you dreamed about any
of those things, sir?
Or just your legacy?
Who knows?
How well do we ever know anyone?
Christmas is right around
the corner, and i and
others have made you
a fine gift, a lovely suit.
It's invisible.
You probably won't notice.
No matter...
one day you will have to
remove your flaming pants.
To try on your new suit.
Or, god forbid, to put on a
unisex hospital gown.
And then you will finally
see your legacy.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 7:01 PM UTC
I fall faster than gravitational acceleration.
Body jerks, vibrate like an earthquake.
Body and mind go separate ways.
Physical overcomes mental strength.
Muscles gain strength.
I can kick like an Ostrich.
Dare not to touch me.
Only I can reunite my body and mind.
The reunion results in confusion.
I get electrically shocked by migraines.
The joy of the reunion is short-lived.
I ask myself all the “Whys” in the world.
Only God knows why.
https://www.facebook.com/EpilepsyandCpfriends/
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 6:00 AM UTC
Excuses, excuses - they'll come in a flood,
When you realize your actions have pushed me away.
Imagine! That I once considered you blood!
But I've had quite enough of the games that you play.
The switch came in stages, a gradual thing,
I first didn't notice; it wasn't too clear.
My perspective grew sharper with distance between,
Felt your backhanded words as they pin-pricked my ears.
You thought I wouldn't notice, would let it slip by,
Never gave me much credit, and that was your fault.
Wrapped your insults in jokes, like arsenic on rye,
And you thought all this time that you wouldn't be caught.
I don't know where you get it - this self-righteous act,
It's not as endearing as you think it to be.
You might take what you want, and then leave it at that,
But I'm telling you now: you'll get no more from me.
I don't know what has prompted you picking this fight.
They're pathetic, yet hurtful, these things that you say.
And I don't know where you think you've gotten the right
To take it out on me when you don't get your way.
For years, it's been happening - don't know how I missed
All the ways you controlled me; I answered to you.
Always did what you wanted, I'm realizing this;
The extent of the selfishness you put me through.
But it changed not too long ago, didn't it, dear?
Oh yes, I grew a spine, and things started to change.
And, oh, you didn't like what you started to hear.
My defying your wants nearly made you deranged.
People grow and they change; it's especially true
For me ever since I was finally free.
So how sad to discover it's not true for you,
You're the same as you were, and as you'll always be.
That's the person you are, who you've been since we met
And it never caused issues until days of late.
The things that you've said are things you will regret,
Because I have no room for your envy-fueled hate.
You've become quite the mean one - I'm sorry, it's true.
You're no longer the person to whom I could turn.
It's a shame (it's a **** shame), but yes, we are through.
And it will not be me who is nursing the burn.
Maybe one day you'll change, and we might reunite.
I'm not getting my hopes up - there's danger in that.
Until then, I hope you learn to treat people right,
Because no one desires to stand by a brat.
Maybe I am the first to address how you are,
But I won't be the last, and this, I can assure.
Your poignant self-righteousness won't get you far,
And I'm sorry - for your case, there isn't a cure.
So remember me now; you'll remember me then,
When you lose all those who used to stand at your side.
You'll remember the disrespect you showed your friend,
For alas, she won't be there, holding you as you cry.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 9:41 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
School has taught us much,
Our friends were our teachers of life.
The building was nearly a mold
And our instructors are our vessels of knowledge.
It’s time to move on.
It’s time to say good bye to a trial
And open our eyes to the final exam of time,
Where none pass or fail, just seize the moment at hand.
Years spent in books and homework
Will test the knowledge you’ve learned in school.
Life will test you in performance
And performance will judge on experience.
Be ready for a fight
Because life won’t be easy.
Several challenges it will be
But together we shall triumph.
Let us not be a burden
But a blessing on a seed.
That seed will grow into a tree
And may that tree spread many more seeds.
In the end, we will be together
And reminisce on the years below.
Let us be happy wherever we blow
And blessed we shall be in anything we do.
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 10:11 AM UTC
When you give a girl a dog you give her a best friend
Her hand becomes forever intertwined with a paw
She will rush home for school and run to hug her best friend
As she gets older she will confide in the dog
She will wait for her dog to be next to her before she starts crying
When she cries she will only feel better when her dog rests their head on hers
She will run to the dog whenever she is scared or sick
She will find comfort in the dog when she panics
Her dog will make everything seem better
When the dog begins to get old she will refuse to believe it
She will not accept that she will lose her best friend
Until you come home and tell her she only has one more day
She will cry and sit with the dog for hours
She will spend all her money on treats for the dog the night before
She will become numb to the world around her when she says goodbye
She will want another dog immediately so she can try not to think about it
She will refuse to think about it
Until she calls out for her dog, her baby, her Pepper and does not hear the click of her best friend's nails on the floor
She will wait for the barks that begin at 4:30 every night
She will lay where she used to with the dog
She will cry every time she thinks about her baby
She will yearn for the barks that once annoyed her or the constant barks
She will miss feeding her dog under the table
Or the times when they would dance together
The feeling of her thick fur under her hands
Or the fur that would somehow end up everywhere
She will feel as though there is no light without her dog
But she knows that those 12 years 88 days were the best of her life
She will never want to trade anything for that time
The laughter through the tears when she finds an old photo will change everything
She will remember that she shall reunite with her dog at the Rainbow Bridge
Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 4:10 PM UTC
Glowing bright in the dark
is the moon the half of the sun!
The sun from the heavenly blue
colour in the midday rose to bear the light
and basks into the other half of the night.
Goodness knows when but God willing
the ancient bird of time once will fly.
Numbering the numberless stars
filling the one halve the half of the sky!
Maybe each star is a shining piece
of one half cut halve that's yet to reunite.
As the cream always rises to the top
and God promised the believers paradise.
Perhaps then without cutting in a fraction, once
paradise is packed with the folks of the good ones
there will be no more partial decimals of the pi!
I wonder then how will it look, a full moon picture?
If then the forever intact paradise lends a mirror
of the ‘immanent feminine’ In Shaa Allah
God willing that will still be my better half!
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 8:24 AM UTC
Words untold
truth is detained
here in this heart
broken and pained
*parts of the secret
are covered in despise
surrounded by denial
but easily disguised*
Truth will be told
and lies will be past
hearts will suffer
or reunite at last
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 1:47 PM UTC
When the skies and the grounds were one, the legends,
through their twelve forces,
nurtured the tree of life.
An eye of red force created the evil
which coveted the heart of tree of life,
and the heart slowly grew dry.
To tend and embrace the heart of tree of life,
the legends hereby divide the tree in half and hide each side.
Hence, time is over-turned and space turns askew.
The twelve forces divide into two
and create two suns that look alike
into two worlds that seem alike.
The legends travel apart.
The legends shall now see the same sky
but shall stand on different grounds,
shall stand on the same ground
but shall see different skies.
The day the grounds be kept a single file
before one sky in two worlds that seem alike,
the legends will greet each other.
The day the red force is purified,
the twelve forces will reunite into one perfect root,
a new world shall open up.
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 11:50 AM UTC
How many letters lost in limbo
How many thoughts washed up no more
Mortal Memories lie motionless behind a window
Heavenly hopes in hand; To reunite upon that shore
Apr 11, 2012
Apr 11, 2012 at 11:39 AM UTC
Oh sleep, oh sleep!
How I miss thee!
If only I had not taken you for granted.
I never feel as awake as when you are by my side, but when you're not close I fear I can't survive.
When we reunite, you take away all my blues, especially in that deep sleep filled with dreamy hues.
When will we meet again?
I surely look forward to it!
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC
Open your eyes
Take in the world
Is it not amazing
What you never heard
Of? You can see
Open your eyes and be free
Open your eyes
Take a deep breath
Let it all out and cry
Look with those gorgeous eyes
Now you can breath
Open your eyes and sing
You came to this world
You are a gift from above
You are a baby angel
Sent to give us love
Reunite our hearts
It’s a brand new start
There’s a whole life for you to see
Open your eyes and be free
Open your eyes
Take in the world
Is it not amazing
What you never heard
Of? You can see
Open your eyes for me
And be free
Open your eyes
Take a deep breath
Let it all out and cry
Look with those gorgeous eyes
Open your eyes
Laugh out loud
Take a first step for me
Daddy wants to see
Open Your Eyes
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 5:43 PM UTC
This poem is to
My late brother,
My best friend
Who we use to plant
Memories from the
Past.
We used to play,argue and fight
We were Tweedledum and Tweedledee,
Always known by a smile.
But this world is crazy enough,it could
Not been better to you,this is blasphemy
But God could have given you another
Chances to life,
Death you should never be proud.
Rest in peace brother.
I won't count my tears
They worth poppin' and fall.
I can't bare this gaint pain in my
Heart,and words can't spell it right.
Dearest lives you left behind will
Always adore you.
Goodbye my friend,so
Long,farewell,but it not
The end of the chapter,i will see you
Again in the after life,someday in
Heaven we will reunite,the flash disappears
But soul survive...
...Till next time,friend,farewell,Goodbye.
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 6:28 AM UTC
Through the white, beating Texan heat,
water towers cry out titles
high above the flat land
where kids from the roadside houses
run around in stained tank tops,
dreaming of their own names up there.
The long and burnt grass cuts their ankles
and the dry cement scrapes their feet.
The midday ritual begins in a racing circle
raising dust over the roofs and into the shy afternoon.
Around 5, the roadside families reunite
in front of their houses to watch the daily traffic jam
and observe the variety of faces through the glass windows,
which after a short while do not seem to vary at all.
But today, something else had their full attention.
The sky was never seen this low and the clouds
turned a shade of black
so dark as to be almost green,
so the eldest women on that single row of houses
declared bad omen. The next early morning,
the closest water tower laid gravely against the ground.
Already, a small boy had climbed on top of the tank,
soles bleeding, and waving
his shirt into the wide clear sky.
©2018 Alex Bex - www.alexbex.net
Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 12:54 PM UTC
Tweaker Tweaker
Did you eat any dinner
And Have you showered
Tweaker Tweaker
How long have you been awake
When's the last time you had real sleep
Or is everyday maintained
W/ 10mins every half hr.
Tweaker Tweaker
Do the shadows still appear
Are the voices the only thing you hear
Is what you feel inside your skin
Even real or just made up in your head
Tweaker Tweaker
Do you even care
The ones you love miss you so much
Do you even care
You've lost your life before 25
Tweaker Tweaker
Please get better
Reach out for help
Put the needle down
Drop the pipe, hear it shatter
Blow away that line you just crushed up
Tweaker Tweaker
It'll be alright
Your loved ones are still near
They still care
Reach out for help
Don't be scared
Everyone only wants to help
Tweaker Tweaker
When you quit
The devil will shout
It won't be easy , count on that
It will be worth it
You'll get to live
So try your best
Beat past this, you'll get through this
Slowly but surely
You'll make to 100 days sober
Reunite with all your loved ones
Employeed with a growing family
Is what will come
When you decide
It's time to end the Devils game
So
Tweaker no more,
but a lady or gentleman
Good for you
You've come far
Keep your mind positive
I'm proud of your sobriety
Congratulations
You're living
& now you see why
Sobriety was always worth it
Tweaker no more
Lady or gentleman
How was the meal you just had
Was the shower the best you've had ?
Did you finally get some sleep
Were you able to escape
the shadows and voices from in your head
Tweaker no more
Just admit
This is the best you've felt
Since your first time trying crystal
You feel human finally
There's no going back
To tweaker island
You won't make it out
The second time around
So hide your very best
Keep yourself busy
And talk out loud
When you feel like
you Might relapse back
into tweakers land.
With no chance to survive another night
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 5:49 AM UTC
to those who say suicide is selfish and cutting is pointless,
understand you can never comprehend what they dealt with.
you may say you have it worse than they did,
on deeper levels that **** was well hid.
somethings easy for you may be hardest for others.
it's not easy to leave mothers, fathers, friends, and siblings.
your strength my weakness, your weakness my strength
those who suffer go through many trials of a never ending darkness.
some wear their scars on their sleeves,
others hide it tucked well deep beneath.
help sometimes is not what they really need.
I can assure you this wasn't a selfish and greedy deed,
they loved you so much, more than you will ever know.
sometimes in an ironic way, the better is finally letting go.
whether you believe in afterlife or rather nothing at all
remember the best of times, and for them stand proud and tall.
their presence may no longer reside on our earth,
but forever in our hearts and mindw they shall always remain.
we will never fully understand and comprehend,
but i know we will all reunite in the end.
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 8:32 AM UTC
She brought me to the devil—
swept the leaves off my brain
& we jumped in the pile.
After rolling a few
& burning
we bathed in wine
washing our minds
with chicken soup for the soul.
He appeared in the stars
& we smiled—
absorbing his card
through a lovely osmosis
supposing the black roses
hiding behind his back
were cut by a queen of swords.
We skipped roped
w/ a noose
cuttin’ loose our useless
baggage by tossing them over
a stony cliff.
As the devil lit a cigarette s/he mumbled
something about a conscious shift.
The devil gave us a gift—
It was a skull
inside a prince’s disk
shaped discus change purse.
“I bring you death as a parting
gift to show where to put the change.”
We laughed & giggled
as we played with plasma—
that’s liked fire cubed.
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 8:07 AM UTC
Eighteen years have passed me
I still marvel at picturesque clouds
They pass us overhead, with grace, like the ground they face isn’t rotten.
Find me that girl who smiles every day
Exchanging her three am thoughts
Into golden plated words that are beautiful
They belong in her poems.
Sadness stained cheeks covered in blush
She’s so lovely, people think
but she’s just glad her mascara is waterproof.
My grandmother has dainty hands, unlike mine
and I was jealous.
until I realized that they were covered in blood
years before I was born and knew what pain was,
making a living and treating her blisters at the same time.
Six children but it used to be eight before two passed away
“Sofian, he died before your grandfather by a few years”
Her heart broken in half and tears encrusted in her skin
But she still has delicate and pretty hands right?
People say they love one another,
But I can’t even count the knives on their backs anymore,
There are too many.
When I find myself in solitude,
I subsequently lose myself in thought.
You know,
I am ashamed.
These angels that watch us every day
I know they weep at our state
And I am done pretending it’s fine.
This is a world where the ground shakes in anger,
The sky cries out of despair
And the air thickens out of confusion
I am all of nature’s catastrophies
In the shape of a woman.
You will see me in the corner
Praying for lost souls
Including my own
Hoping that one day we’ll reunite in a place
Where words don’t drip blood
And authors find that writing is easier when happy
But for now, we can’t get enough of pretending.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 6:36 PM UTC
A baby clutches his mother’s dress
Unaware of how it will save his life
Unwary of the saving grace that will come to rest
The child is soft and clean
His name is Eugenius, the second of three
After Richard, before Michal
He is just a babe, no bigger than an infant can be
A toddler clutches his mother’s dress, the hem
Unaware of tragedy
Unwary of the Horror that awaits him
The child is frightened and shaking
His name is Gene, the second of three
After Richard, before Michal
He is just a little one, no taller than Mama’s knee
A child clutches his mother’s hand
Unaware from behind her skirt as they are herded
Unwary of the disaster to come from the cart
His name is Genie, the second of three
Before Mikey, after Richie
He is just a child, no higher than Tata’s knee
A boy holds his brother’s hand tight
Unaware of the danger he is in
Unwary that the coin from Mama’s skirts will save his life
The boy is healthy and strong, though not for long
His name is Gene, the second of three
Before Michal, after Richard
He is naïve, but soon to grow up prematurely
A prisoner holds his own shirt, unsure
Unaware of the pain that is coming
Unwary that he shall walk away nevermore
The prisoner is hurting and ******
His name is “Gefangene,” the second of two
After Richard, before the crimson mess
He is crying for a ****** towel carried by
A handicap clutches Mama’s leg
Aware that he cannot cry as she shuffles him out
Wary that outside her skirts is the hunt
The handicap is hurting so badly
His name is Gene, the second of three
After Richard, before the new bump
He is unwilling to believe
A kaleka holds tight to his brother’s back
Aware that he is a burden
Wary that he is a load
The kaleka is waiting, waiting.
His name is Gene, second of three
After Richard, before Theresa
The kaleka is ready for release
The dziecko holds again to Mama’s skirt
Aware that he is now free to leave
Wary that he will never be independent
The dziecko is elated and mourning
His name is Gene, the second of three
Before Theresa, after Richard
The dziecko will never be the same
Sixty five years later
Gene holds Rosie’s hand tight
Aware that he is old now, having lived fully
Wary that death is imminent at last
The great-grandfather is peaceful and content
His name is Tata, Grandpa, Gene, husband, and more
He is the last one left of his war
The survivor is ready to reunite with his family
He gives thanks to Hattie’s skirts
That kept him alive though the hurts.
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 11:09 AM UTC
Summer would be the sunflowers seemingly blooming from beneath telephone poles as a reminder that love can travel upon the wires connecting long-distance lovers, the ropes that cling to trees as though reuniting after a twelve month absence as they bear the weight of two bodies more entangled in each other than the pattern of the hammock that they lie upon, the ice cubes that float atop the glass of sweet tea stealing quick kisses each time the glass is lifted as they melt together beneath the heat.
Fall would be the leaves clinging to the tree limbs whispering secrets to each other as they flutter in the wind and change color according to the lovers that will one day float to the ground beside them, a calm pond reflecting former versions of couples who have always desired to know each other before their time of acquaintance only to realize they never existed until the day that they met, the stone path that weaves through a graveyard that has felt the light footsteps of paired souls wandering the grounds during midnight strolls.
Winter would be the snowflake drifting in the wind quickly memorizing the patterns of each familiar one it passes in an effort to reunite with its match made in the heaven from which it has fallen, the steaming cup of tea that collects condensation in the hands of lovers who find solace in sitting upon their front porches when it's freezing, the parallel lines of sleds that have etched temporary tracks in the land as representations of the distance that once separated those who created them (but does no longer).
Spring would be the first sprout of the season persevering through the darkness of the soil and finally pushing through the light at the end to feel the warmth of the sun upon it, a bridge the connects flower-covered hills that houses the memory of two lovers who reunited after being apart for the winter, the daisy that he planted beneath her chest the night that he told her he loved her and promised to always water it.
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 6:38 PM UTC
I push with all my might,
But my butthole's too tight.
I'm up all night,
Trying to conquer this fight.
I keep thinking it's going to be all right,
Stuck in a long plight.
Through my sight,
I see the brown and blue reunite.
Kerplunk.
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 1:23 AM UTC
When you're tucked into the corner of your bed kissing a girl, consider blasphemy.
When you're picking flowers and spinning your lover in the grove, consider blasphemy.
When your mother finds out and you are forced to leave her, consider blasphemy.
When you have healed from your sins, come to the church and consider blasphemy.
When you turn back to your sins, leave the church and consider blasphemy.
When you get married to your wife and commit yourself to the sin, consider blasphemy.
When you are old and on your deathbed, please, for the love of God, reconsider blasphemy.
When you stop your breathing and reunite with your lover for eternity, disconsider blasphemy.
Jun 6, 2022
Jun 6, 2022 at 8:20 AM UTC