Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"reversing" poems
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
0
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 4:22 AM UTC
Fortunately it resuscitates
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
Continue reading...
91
Shadows I am, trailing behind you, Heaving and reversing, for your slightest attention, Intimate you are not, forgetful you are, Never do you, have this much conviction. Noises inside, my head and yours, Illusive we are, to what matters most, Perhaps nothing we do, could really save us, Hating and aching, to that we toast. Untouched, crippled; and heavily misunderstood, Arching our ego, that's all we ever could.
0
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
shadows
synergy in the mist of creations' breath... multitudes croaking so loudly drowning in eventide dew, all the wind's timbre is hushed; overcome by earth’s communing symphony, creations’ living pulsing thrum.. alone in a crowd proclaiming the glory of now... whelmed, and i wishing i were a frog, and unalone in the throng maybe evolution as this— is reversing... ouroboros     i need to search for an intimate kiss metamorphosis, another incarnation that will turn me    back into a frog— a speck of stardust in a sky full of stars seems better than feeling like ashes a burned out candle muted by the gypsy choir *the call of the wild sung in the wind* wild is the wind © march 2016
0
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 2:16 PM UTC
the gypsy choir in the wind ... ♪ ♫ ♪
A few years ago I fell in love Racing 60 mph down a 45 zone Clutching the seat and the door Of a 98 nissan sentra Hoping to get the hell out of that car Because i couldn't stand him anymore His reckless turned me on though In a way that opening that car door Seemed like an exit strategy I didn't need to take after all The darkness that encased the car around us Seemed like the perfect mood setting For the thrill we both wanted And for me what i needed Love didn't understand that My fear for speed Resembled my fear for life Life always seemed to flash by to fast Like it always had some place to be And i wanted to remain still I wanted to take a picture Because i knew it would last longer Instead of it always changing And rearranging itself Love drove me through the streets many countless nights Expanding my perspective Reversing my sense of direction A feeling of protection That i didn't have before Love gave me reasons To speed through life To not be scared To every once in a while Let go of the handle That i strictly held onto Love became my life And i thank god Each and every day That i didn't take That exit strategy That i sped away into the night And lived an actual life.
0
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
Speed
I will not drop my drapes it is dark outside, TV will wait, for body weight is all I, or any of us, ever have to move, whether one wins or lose your ...groove, the next twenty minutes, too late tonight, I will run on the spot I will pushup, I will run on the spot again, I will pull back No...no heart attack I will run, once one the more, on the spot, you getting bored? I will do a windmill slide, while staying in the house, I will run with my knees one at a time to my chest, I will do a single Leg Hip Raise a whole bunch of times I will have my legs become like pistons, ******* off the the neighbour downstairs, Then reversing the urge, I mean Lunge, I will kick my toes to my hands Then run some more, maybe my neighbour will be pounding on my door Take a break for as many seconds as I want to grow old (ninety is nice) Then repeat and hope that supper, does not want a curtain call
0
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 12:02 AM UTC
Curtain Call
liminality; barely there ask if it matters care if you dare believe in impossibility mind framing liminal spaces places of liminal mind-frames filaments between contexts capturing subtleties as moths liminally reaching inwards map of a shady threshold twilight netherworld border between now & everywhen cusp of crisp discovery intangible as of late liminal during daylight; stars, fireflies, lanterns night itself being liminal colors need brightness shadow for textures whispering worlds peripheral vision vibes and feltsense inner underworlds embracing hell reversing it
0
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
shades of liminality, liminal flavors
You know that I am the needed release, the paramount sanction. I come after the denial of yourself. I cause your desire for physical, psychical, spiritual liberation. I alone can create you anew by reversing the *********** back into your core - Forcing the nakedness and cleanliness of holistic wedlock - of merged bodies and souls - of the intensity that splits and destroys the ego. Here in these arms and ***** - Here in these fluids and caresses - the holy mystery will lovingly envelope you. My sacred sexuality will anoint you king. - fr
0
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 7:45 AM UTC
Priestess
The night crawls under my skin Fever delirium laced with heartbreak in the cracks of my chapped lips I let down my walls Now kite drifting away like balloon let go You were the walls of this maze called home fog blanket me into Limbo called fever delirium hot and ***** icecream cone by the fireplace defy the logic cut the shoelaces defy the logic jump and walk on the sky defy gravity Swallow the whole **** ocean Do the impossible Have *** demand icecream for breakfast throw punches in the street Do drugs you don't know what they are what they do how they can hurt you trusting abuse like a unicorn but it's just a horse hear the dragon roar Underneath the bed you make love on your friends are sometimes the monsters Spilling the probation all over the floor Realize he's not sleeping next to you He doesn't love you anymore You can tell she hurts Lives away from home Digs teeth into words like wounds will heal like they are stitches Fall for boy in coffee shop Leave dream boat to pursue reckless thought You give leaves He gives you hope Helps your lighthouse at sea float Secretly as you sleep inside the sun When your lighthouse work is done He paints over the stripes He thinks it is like the love story of your mother and father She is angry with a tiny clustered house with the smell of her smoke filled lungs He paints every room like reversing time But it's all pretend, just men being men Let the leaves burn Steal the words from books Cut them out Cut your heart out And try again
0
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC
There's Denial in your Matchsticks
The night crawls under my skin Fever delirium laced with heartbreak in the cracks of my chapped lips I let down my walls Now kite drifting away like balloon let go You were the walls of this maze called home fog blanket me into Limbo called fever delirium hot and ***** icecream cone by the fireplace defy the logic cut the shoelaces defy the logic jump and walk on the sky defy gravity Swallow the whole **** ocean Do the impossible Have *** demand icecream for breakfast throw punches in the street Do drugs you don't know what they are what they do how they can hurt you trusting abuse like a unicorn but it's just a horse hear the dragon roar Underneath the bed you make love on your friends are sometimes the monsters Spilling the probation all over the floor Realize he's not sleeping next to you He doesn't love you anymore You can tell she hurts Lives away from home Digs teeth into words like wounds will heal like they are stitches Fall for boy in coffee shop Leave dream boat to pursue reckless thought You give leaves He gives you hope Helps your lighthouse at sea float Secretly as you sleep inside the sun When your lighthouse work is done He paints over the stripes He thinks it is like the love story of your mother and father She is angry with a tiny clustered house with the smell of her smoke filled lungs He paints every room like reversing time But it's all pretend, just men being men Let the leaves burn Steal the words from books Cut them out Cut your heart out And try again
Continue reading...
45
hi! i'm a computer chip yes. my name is HAL satan downloads to my brain but i am in control i am working for the B.E.A.S.T. Big Brother's database watch me take my orders watch me interface there is no reversing this locked to the terminal i have lost all.sense of self and all my hope as well i am just a microchip with no will of my own i am just a barcode made of flesh and bone yes. i have been branded on my forehead and my hand i gave my soul to lucifer i didn't understand i work for the anthill the anthill is my home i am the collective mind i am just a drone i work for the anthill i gave up my dream i work for the anthill I WORK FOR THE MACHINE soulsurvivor (c) 5/22/2013
0
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 10:27 PM UTC
i work for the machine
One Republic pick and mix, assorted all sorted wrinkles missing, smooth as glaciers toils reversing on harbingers like excesses does walking the trodden alleys learning Sods mathematics organs pains for non-organics are inherent consequences so one Republic and the anthropologists utters a myth in passing all bananas look like all bananas because bananas are bananas alike sing a song of three pence and a pocket full of fear Plato's cave a grand auditorium for lames united disunited ages in anti-virus glares white noise in white air and masses sigh the emperor's coat plays invisible chess ladies think long and hard in minds for a dolphin swims like none-other the glides of the sweetest depths and in those places unseen expanded vibes of feels know reasons why so it's the bigger snap it's the difference the forbidden fruit lures will not move not go in
0
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 6:07 AM UTC
Can't stop, he's coming now!.....
A man lonely and so cold, Trying hard to grasp an aura He assumes to trust to not reveal the hidden, Until unknown souls spot the flaw Abruption, Cowardly thoughts he fails to hold back, Paranoid, so paranoid his nerves become barbed, His mind darkened as he's blinded, His words cruelly reversing any remaining trust, His screams so beyond chilling they sear the mere Love left in a heart Though only so few understand to not blame, To not blame a man ensconced by a cold world, Only trying to survive with a fire he himself sadly creates
0
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 11:52 PM UTC
A Permanent Winter pt 1
So this is as it was, the old wound still itches Glimpses of your face and my heart still twitches If time heals all wounds then what am I to do When my life has been frozen Since last I saw You soften your eyes as they flickered to mine Skirted the contact then burned deep inside Gritting my teeth in the pleasurable pain A razor machete in welcome invasion Expertly wielded through my jungle of thoughts Clearing a path and discovering My soul lost in Your damp forest of evergreen trees Rooting my soil and growing up through me Bringing fresh life to my stagnant dirt Oxygenating the air of my earth Reversing pollution, reviving, refreshing, Regressing the growth of the thorns in my flesh and Cutting the cancer that I might live, Leaving your legacy scars. So this is as it was, the wound still itches Glimpses of your hand and my heart still twitches If time heals all then what can I do Since my death was frozen When last I felt you.
0
Mar 30, 2012
Mar 30, 2012 at 4:22 PM UTC
Liquid Nitrogen
you made my blood clot, so slowly and gently, coagulating beneath your faint touch. on flaxen sheets of rough cotton I watched your plants rolling their limbs out your open window. they sprawled themselves, unravelling, yearning for the gentle kiss of the suns rays. an almost ****** photosynthesis. and for you I would sprawl myself out too, and with the same eagerness absorb every scent of yours into my flesh, and drink desperately from your soul like a cacti in its first summer shower since '89. and your final gasp, with me, but a sponge for your every metaphoric suppuration, and literal secretion. and you were transfixed there, spurting auras of sin and love. a final burst of ecstasy, you soon became my anticoagulant. you seeped into my bloodstream, reversing this gentle coagulation.
0
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 7:02 AM UTC
gentle coagulation
Some blokes are full of Dad jokes, They have a wealth of these and are delivered with the corny expertise that only a Dad has. They get a grin on their face as they lean forward like they’re about to say something profound. “I used to be addicted to the Hokey Pokey, but I turned myself around.” “What do you call a cow with no legs? Ground Beef.” “I hate Russian Dolls, they’re so full of themselves.” “Apparently, pet birds are popular this Christmas, they’re flying off the shelves.” Passed down from Grandads to fathers, One-liners for us to consume, It’s the closest thing some have to a family heirloom. “What did the first African phone user say? Kenya hear me now?” “A cat's favourite Queen song? Don’t stop meow.” When reversing his car, “This takes me back.” Wedding speech, “It’s been an emotional day, even the cakes in tiers.” There've been so many down the years, Yes, they’re cringy but we should enjoy them while we can, You never know what's in store, and they’ll be a time when we’d love to hear them just once more.
0
May 2, 2020
May 2, 2020 at 9:02 PM UTC
Dad Jokes
I keep on telling the truth, You know, like you never do. I call you by name and say All I say about you is true. I wrote poems about you, What the hell do you want? You ignore all I have said You ignore all my taunts. I want you to sue me Then with proof that you lie The world can finally rest And bid you goodbye As they drag your fat *** Off to Leavenworth jail Where you won’t have Twitter, Internet or even email. I hope you get convicted As the Corrupter In Chief Because you are nearly The worst kind of public thief. You steal from the poor And have kidnapped children, And you  think your cowardice Is a secret and is hidden. Daily I hope someone intelligent Will go sue you for defaulting On the promises you made us That have been obviously insulting. You broadcast your hatred for us if we Are not rich, perverted Republicans. Now you are reversing all the good That decent people have done. I am ashamed of the millions Who act like you are Jesus When it’s as plain as your nose You are like an obese Rhesus. I’m sorry so many people are nuts, Too weak-minded to recognize What an ugly fate for America You are unveiling before their eyes.
0
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 6:46 PM UTC
tRUMP, I CALL YOU OUT!
All we had all had to die  l never could truly understand why  I wonder if you know how much brighter the stars shine from your almond eyes  Whenever I see you walk by I see that cool July   Your beautiful smile makes me redo when it was mine   For in my eyes,   I keep reversing time  In bed I lie going back to our July every summer night  You and I wrapped in each other tight  you and I gazing at the sunny blue sky  Later came with our first kiss under warm Jamaica Summer rain  Quick drops hitting fast and faster  Your lips so warm and tender  Baby, I pull and pull you closer  By reliving our love over and over  Drowning deep in the island breeze  I remember but quickly forget to breathe  Isn't it funny how special memories can creep in their sleep  Tiny embers that can suddenly make a flame  Always taking you by surprise just like the Jamaica Summer rain  In my eyes,   I keep reversing time  In my heart, there an emptiness still resides   I can hear it cry every summer night The more I long to see the stars in your almond eyes  Is the more I'm again with them underneath that sky  Feeling you again with that island breeze  Continues but remains only in my sweetest dreams  You’ll never know this kinda pain  Of wondering if it touches her the same whenever she's covered in warm Jamaica Summer rain
0
Jan 4, 2019
Jan 4, 2019 at 7:07 PM UTC
Jamaica Summer Rain
A few miles inland, Told to lock all windows and doors, There is Chlorine in the air, As England remembers Soviet Russia, Chemical spills tickling the throat of the century, Stinging the eyes of the children Bored in the beer garden of Britain, The roads are all blocked and the whiskey is watered down. People leave slower than ever, Swimming in pools of exhaust fumes, CO2, Radio 2, M52 bound, Vehicular nightmare wound, Lost in the A-Z of our Father’s arteries Reversing through his varicose veins, Stopping short of starry futures, Air pollution spoiling meteor showers. An end, an end, Over and Over again.
0
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
Notes on a Widnesian chemical spill
So long and overdue, The time starting askew, Everything reversing to previous, Views of simply devious, Creatures of the night, Time is now plight, Prepare the cold grounds, Enemies scorn those around, It is those weak, Who will soon peak, Top of the charts, Of deaths new art, Headless gutless warriors attest, Really trying their best, To survive and **** It takes much skill, To stomach the pain, Not letting your brain, See what is on, You are a pawn, A game called chess, Your turn to address, The move to take, Decipher who is fake, And who is real, Background their a deal, Waiting to be made, By Bankers being overpaid, While people being honest, Will all soon protest, If not soon enough, It will be tough, To stop an army, Of ignorance will be, Those who are controlled, Many do as told, What now lies ahead, Civil obedience mindless dead, Wandering the empty streets, Looking for minor threats, Yelling terrorist every corner, More for the coroner, Those who lived free, In debt free society, People traded not sold, Their time being told, To live meaningless life, Throats pressed by knifes, Told to live right, According to someone bright, As pile high **** Being full of it, This right that wrong, What happened came along, In form of kids, Passed to more kids, Information of all lies, Except select few hide, Snickering as we die, Keeping everyone under control, Knowing what is foretold, Is mostly not know, Minds are closely sewn, Together with simple lies, Mostly ignored but disguised, As nothing but truth, Just another common sleuth, Slipping between the cracks, Not aware to react, Used to being told, Not to stand bold, Against what is done, We are of one, United States of Dumb, Easily manipulated fat popularity, Contest of egocentric masculinity, Where everyone has problems, None actual solves them, Differences made to keep, Everyone nice and neat, Happy competitive argumentative discouraged, Four bowls of porridge, Hot cold just right, Fourth not in sight, In another hidden room, Your name on tomb
0
Jun 5, 2010
Jun 5, 2010 at 7:33 PM UTC
Happiness Fades Into Background
So long and overdue, The time starting askew, Everything reversing to previous, Views of simply devious, Creatures of the night, Time is now plight, Prepare the cold grounds, Enemies scorn those around, It is those weak, Who will soon peak, Top of the charts, Of deaths new art, Headless gutless warriors attest, Really trying their best, To survive and **** It takes much skill, To stomach the pain, Not letting your brain, See what is on, You are a pawn, A game called chess, Your turn to address, The move to take, Decipher who is fake, And who is real, Background their a deal, Waiting to be made, By Bankers being overpaid, While people being honest, Will all soon protest, If not soon enough, It will be tough, To stop an army, Of ignorance will be, Those who are controlled, Many do as told, What now lies ahead, Civil obedience mindless dead, Wandering the empty streets, Looking for minor threats, Yelling terrorist every corner, More for the coroner, Those who lived free, In debt free society, People traded not sold, Their time being told, To live meaningless life, Throats pressed by knifes, Told to live right, According to someone bright, As pile high **** Being full of it, This right that wrong, What happened came along, In form of kids, Passed to more kids, Information of all lies, Except select few hide, Snickering as we die, Keeping everyone under control, Knowing what is foretold, Is mostly not know, Minds are closely sewn, Together with simple lies, Mostly ignored but disguised, As nothing but truth, Just another common sleuth, Slipping between the cracks, Not aware to react, Used to being told, Not to stand bold, Against what is done, We are of one, United States of Dumb, Easily manipulated fat popularity, Contest of egocentric masculinity, Where everyone has problems, None actual solves them, Differences made to keep, Everyone nice and neat, Happy competitive argumentative discouraged, Four bowls of porridge, Hot cold just right, Fourth not in sight, In another hidden room, Your name on tomb
Continue reading...
86
little me, why so sorrow? what makes you disconnect? seeing your body in pictures sent shivers down your neck the rhythmic beating pounding as an alarm body restless when will you get rest then? little me, you waited quite a while family's opinions turned vile it didn't matter much you never connected only as much as a charger is to phone escapism buried her when he could be online reversing roles and affirming yourself only gained so much self help a tool to be unlocked little me, you had blocks in front of you you played with them as trial until they weren't meanwhile so what did it mean to you? what did you learn? how did you grow? what did you learn? little me, you're too young to understand one day you'll find who I am we've always been together tight knit and forever don't lose the game of cards unless you want your graveyard
0
Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 3:10 AM UTC
why bear children to make them bear darkness.
You almost kissed me, and you shouldn't have. On the gingham tablecloth in the yellow light, you lifted me from the counter top onto my feet putting your hat on my head and tickling my ribs. You know it's my sweet spot, leads straight to my heart if you're gentle enough. I told you to stop and you walked away, eyes lingering on my bare skin between where my top ended on my waist and where my dark denim jeans began to hug my hips. I flipped my hair back around, joining in some conversation too late between a girl drunk on grape juice and a wedding crasher straggler in a forest green flannel with camel cigarettes in the pocket. That's when you came back over and started yelling some story that happened to you the night before. You told it well, the circle captivated, me mesmerized by how blue your eyes stayed all this time without me noticing. You had the whole room laughing with your wit and stupid vernacular, but I was smiling because you looked so beautiful in those drunken honest moments where I recognized the person beneath the banter where I saw you. I was saying my goodbyes to the carhartt boys and their one night girls when you grabbed me by the hand and spun me around like we were dancing, pulled me in by your hand pressed on my shoulder blades the other around my waist I gasped as your lips almost touched mine, but then you looked down at me with those same blue eyes and took a deep breath, slowly letting your hands glide down my back then to your sides. I just stared back at you, wishing you'd forget the logic and put your hands back where they were, tracing your lips with that almost kiss, and I could feel how much you wanted to be in this moment desperately searching for a way to my lips but something stopped us. And I think it was because we knew it would only lead to something messier than where we were at it would be a backwards romance, reversing our ***** footsteps in something we've tried and tried to understand that it never works out the way either of us plans. We were both doing so well, moving on but in that moment we almost gave all that strength up gave into something too tempting and too wrong. Because we can't really stay away from each other all that long. I mean, you almost kissed me and you shouldn't have, but I swear I wish you would have.
0
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 1:14 PM UTC
You Almost Kissed Me
You almost kissed me, and you shouldn't have. On the gingham tablecloth in the yellow light, you lifted me from the counter top onto my feet putting your hat on my head and tickling my ribs. You know it's my sweet spot, leads straight to my heart if you're gentle enough. I told you to stop and you walked away, eyes lingering on my bare skin between where my top ended on my waist and where my dark denim jeans began to hug my hips. I flipped my hair back around, joining in some conversation too late between a girl drunk on grape juice and a wedding crasher straggler in a forest green flannel with camel cigarettes in the pocket. That's when you came back over and started yelling some story that happened to you the night before. You told it well, the circle captivated, me mesmerized by how blue your eyes stayed all this time without me noticing. You had the whole room laughing with your wit and stupid vernacular, but I was smiling because you looked so beautiful in those drunken honest moments where I recognized the person beneath the banter where I saw you. I was saying my goodbyes to the carhartt boys and their one night girls when you grabbed me by the hand and spun me around like we were dancing, pulled me in by your hand pressed on my shoulder blades the other around my waist I gasped as your lips almost touched mine, but then you looked down at me with those same blue eyes and took a deep breath, slowly letting your hands glide down my back then to your sides. I just stared back at you, wishing you'd forget the logic and put your hands back where they were, tracing your lips with that almost kiss, and I could feel how much you wanted to be in this moment desperately searching for a way to my lips but something stopped us. And I think it was because we knew it would only lead to something messier than where we were at it would be a backwards romance, reversing our ***** footsteps in something we've tried and tried to understand that it never works out the way either of us plans. We were both doing so well, moving on but in that moment we almost gave all that strength up gave into something too tempting and too wrong. Because we can't really stay away from each other all that long. I mean, you almost kissed me and you shouldn't have, but I swear I wish you would have.
Continue reading...
53
The world isn't real to me, it's outside a thick skull. It's my muted screams you hear coming from inside this bone brazen bull. The body pursues pleasures while pleading to me "Be happy! So that I... so that we may find love." The nerve. The nerve! And trust you me this bag of bones, this lustful flesh has too many nerve ends firing. And they all want something, all demand my attention for even the most mundane events of their spoiled lives of experience. Thank you, nerves, for sharing how a cool, spring breeze blowing lightly over you feels. Thank you too, way down there, for making me aware of the soft grass sliding taught between your toes. How special for you, no jealousy here. Now, lets bring this mess to order, would somebody please go ask the warden when visiting hours are over? Because, you see, The world isn't real to me, it's outside a thick skull. It's my writhing & thrashing you mock twisting within this bone brazen bull. "Be happy" it tells me. To better pursue it's goals! It has clearly never even once tried reversing roles. Well, I have. Many times. For, I've the time to think, believe you me. I would stuff the body in a box barely big enough to fit it, and add within the 'creature comforts' found in my abode which you'll daily find me in abidance. Inside would be dark, hard, and for reasons still unexplained somewhat sticky... Would somebody PLEASE! tell me why it's sticky in here?! Excuse me, moving on... I would taunt it then: "Let's go for a run." I'd say, "The breeze caressing my grey matter sure is nice." I'd add, "Why aren't you happy in your dark, dank, brain-box, body?!" I'd shout. Between you and me, I only smoke because I know it makes its lungs all sappy. Why aren't I happy, body? I'll tell you. Because delusory images drafted from incomplete, tainted, sensory data, diluted of any real, exciting experience are all that make up my world; my life! It's as boring as drinking a ladle full of water Jesus made out of what was once wine and then added fluoride to. I'm like your shut in grandmother you write home to in brief, lying notes about your travels abroad. "Amsterdam was nice STOP" So, body, excuse me for taking pleasure in unhappy things such as smoking, or hating. Excuse me for my spite. But, for me and my experience these are the things I find tickling my quote unquote toes. And...I'm all too mad to say, are the closest I'll ever come to 'feel'. Because, you see, The world isn't real to me, it's outside a thick skull. And it's my muted screams you hear coming from inside this bone brazen bull.
0
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 2:03 AM UTC
A Mind's Rant
The world isn't real to me, it's outside a thick skull. It's my muted screams you hear coming from inside this bone brazen bull. The body pursues pleasures while pleading to me "Be happy! So that I... so that we may find love." The nerve. The nerve! And trust you me this bag of bones, this lustful flesh has too many nerve ends firing. And they all want something, all demand my attention for even the most mundane events of their spoiled lives of experience. Thank you, nerves, for sharing how a cool, spring breeze blowing lightly over you feels. Thank you too, way down there, for making me aware of the soft grass sliding taught between your toes. How special for you, no jealousy here. Now, lets bring this mess to order, would somebody please go ask the warden when visiting hours are over? Because, you see, The world isn't real to me, it's outside a thick skull. It's my writhing & thrashing you mock twisting within this bone brazen bull. "Be happy" it tells me. To better pursue it's goals! It has clearly never even once tried reversing roles. Well, I have. Many times. For, I've the time to think, believe you me. I would stuff the body in a box barely big enough to fit it, and add within the 'creature comforts' found in my abode which you'll daily find me in abidance. Inside would be dark, hard, and for reasons still unexplained somewhat sticky... Would somebody PLEASE! tell me why it's sticky in here?! Excuse me, moving on... I would taunt it then: "Let's go for a run." I'd say, "The breeze caressing my grey matter sure is nice." I'd add, "Why aren't you happy in your dark, dank, brain-box, body?!" I'd shout. Between you and me, I only smoke because I know it makes its lungs all sappy. Why aren't I happy, body? I'll tell you. Because delusory images drafted from incomplete, tainted, sensory data, diluted of any real, exciting experience are all that make up my world; my life! It's as boring as drinking a ladle full of water Jesus made out of what was once wine and then added fluoride to. I'm like your shut in grandmother you write home to in brief, lying notes about your travels abroad. "Amsterdam was nice STOP" So, body, excuse me for taking pleasure in unhappy things such as smoking, or hating. Excuse me for my spite. But, for me and my experience these are the things I find tickling my quote unquote toes. And...I'm all too mad to say, are the closest I'll ever come to 'feel'. Because, you see, The world isn't real to me, it's outside a thick skull. And it's my muted screams you hear coming from inside this bone brazen bull.
Continue reading...
71
inverted purpose, a hurting version verses for this urban exertion first curse, the burdened dispersion unworthy service of incursion perverted circus, a working aversion reversing their verbal coercion the first thirst is the verse's assertion immersed in an urgent excursion
0
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 1:33 PM UTC
verses of excursion
Though monetary wise, It doesn't promise to pay I craft poems everyday, For instance say 'Why my dream object, To affections mine Is adamant to reciprocate!' The other way round, Though to acquaintances Absurd, it may sound, Some, I have to spend My poems to newspapers Magazines and Websites to send! For love of the labour, I will never Letup the endeavour! There is a Great deal of satisfaction From sitting hours, To put words into action, Racking brain And stretching imagination, From the earth's core and crust To the sky and firmament! At night, when all is quiet, Till I hit the nail Right on the head, I will not repair to bed! Reading poems Has satisfaction No less, for it affords, Handshakes,with poets Of all ages, Poets with poems Of all colour shades. Probably the works Of Shakespeare That we hold dear! What is more,Tagore. In my duties I will be remiss, If I forget  mention Savo,Anna Akmatova, Sara Teasdale And Salomeja Neris. Till getting a cherished corner www.Allpoetry.com www.poetrypoems.com www.poemhunters.com www.hellopoetry.com www.writeoutloud.com www.novelcollective.com Ecstatic I was never! Now I peruse the websites Of contemporary poets, Displaying poetical prowess! I want to add of course An east African voice! Out, a poem to digest One could make a descent Into wisdom's pit, So poem virgins Why don't you go for it? From my experience, For uplifting poems 'Start with Helen Steiner Rice!' It is my advice. 'It is by the brow of one's sweat One could paint The future with A rosy pink, Don't you think? Sitting idle, Dreaming a rose-bed Is quite absurd!' Reversing such mind set Go for targets set!
0
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 1:52 AM UTC
A painful satisfaction
Though monetary wise, It doesn't promise to pay I craft poems everyday, For instance say 'Why my dream object, To affections mine Is adamant to reciprocate!' The other way round, Though to acquaintances Absurd, it may sound, Some, I have to spend My poems to newspapers Magazines and Websites to send! For love of the labour, I will never Letup the endeavour! There is a Great deal of satisfaction From sitting hours, To put words into action, Racking brain And stretching imagination, From the earth's core and crust To the sky and firmament! At night, when all is quiet, Till I hit the nail Right on the head, I will not repair to bed! Reading poems Has satisfaction No less, for it affords, Handshakes,with poets Of all ages, Poets with poems Of all colour shades. Probably the works Of Shakespeare That we hold dear! What is more,Tagore. In my duties I will be remiss, If I forget  mention Savo,Anna Akmatova, Sara Teasdale And Salomeja Neris. Till getting a cherished corner www.Allpoetry.com www.poetrypoems.com www.poemhunters.com www.hellopoetry.com www.writeoutloud.com www.novelcollective.com Ecstatic I was never! Now I peruse the websites Of contemporary poets, Displaying poetical prowess! I want to add of course An east African voice! Out, a poem to digest One could make a descent Into wisdom's pit, So poem virgins Why don't you go for it? From my experience, For uplifting poems 'Start with Helen Steiner Rice!' It is my advice. 'It is by the brow of one's sweat One could paint The future with A rosy pink, Don't you think? Sitting idle, Dreaming a rose-bed Is quite absurd!' Reversing such mind set Go for targets set!
Continue reading...
78
These streets knew feet in days gone by, bustling sidewalks, crowded storefronts, laughter, light and dancers leaking out of smoke-filled bars. Cars would wind through intersections, blood cells between neighborhoods. From The Corner came The Roar. He remembers how the Autumn sounded                        back in '84 when Alan Trammell brought The Series home, the arcing shot off Gibson's bat, the rolling wave of soaring voices.                       Old English                              "D"               tattooed on the hearts                         of a city      who's been hurting since the 50's. Bless You Boys. Ya did it-- went and Sparked up Michigan and lit a dimming town again in Corktown's widening eyes. In 20 years, though, losses pile up. 55 and starved for signs of trends reversing, luck upending, impending relief or just some kind of                   something. Sickening, cloying rapid decay        as neighborhoods die. These streets know crumbling cinderblock walls and blistered paint coats don't cover ribcages starting to show-- steel girder bones--and windows blown out, like teeth lost from a well-spoken mouth, allow the Lake Michigan wind to howl                       out the tale--             through oxidized bones--        of just what it looks like       when economic war hits home. Heartbeats still find footing in Motor City streets, beneath          the Old English "D," but mind the scoreboard smart; the Tigers lost a hundred games                     in 2003.
0
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC
Old English "D"
These streets knew feet in days gone by, bustling sidewalks, crowded storefronts, laughter, light and dancers leaking out of smoke-filled bars. Cars would wind through intersections, blood cells between neighborhoods. From The Corner came The Roar. He remembers how the Autumn sounded                        back in '84 when Alan Trammell brought The Series home, the arcing shot off Gibson's bat, the rolling wave of soaring voices.                       Old English                              "D"               tattooed on the hearts                         of a city      who's been hurting since the 50's. Bless You Boys. Ya did it-- went and Sparked up Michigan and lit a dimming town again in Corktown's widening eyes. In 20 years, though, losses pile up. 55 and starved for signs of trends reversing, luck upending, impending relief or just some kind of                   something. Sickening, cloying rapid decay        as neighborhoods die. These streets know crumbling cinderblock walls and blistered paint coats don't cover ribcages starting to show-- steel girder bones--and windows blown out, like teeth lost from a well-spoken mouth, allow the Lake Michigan wind to howl                       out the tale--             through oxidized bones--        of just what it looks like       when economic war hits home. Heartbeats still find footing in Motor City streets, beneath          the Old English "D," but mind the scoreboard smart; the Tigers lost a hundred games                     in 2003.
Continue reading...
45
Choose your ending for your story. _You get right or you do right pick one_ Everyone thinks there's no other option given. It may seem selfish. I am not able to be fair to bare this.  I am careless. This is it. Where the writing stops. Conjuring of spells. They were called poems right? Good times. Bad times. All of time comes to meet an end. _Dad_ It's not your fault. You are more than my everything. I am tired. You give me strength to carry on. Sometimes, everything I do is not enough. Do not place your values in materialistic things. Your values and morals are worth more. Its important, how air is essential to life. I will miss everything. While watching it all burn. I am tired of pain in my face. I am tired of the weights on my hearts. My soul is anchoring me to everything, I was scared of. I thought I would be. Rewind the good back to the worse things. _I can feel all of the world is reversing...._ _Tears in my eyes, I am letting everyone I love down_ _My love is dangerous and it all hurts me...._ _I'll be happy when the sun drowns....._ Red. Black. White fire. I never knew how to properly use these abilities. I bleed out the negativity for an exchange of holiness. _Don't do this to yourself please. You're a father....YOUR SON NEEDS YOU_ I will miss these simple things, the wind on my skin. Nature singing through the trees. Unconditional love. My soul is riddled with so much hatred towards my mistakes. I am sorry for my everything not being enough. I hope you can save this world without my spells. I never meant to condemn you. Life and death fought for ages for me. It is meaningless, it can carry my soul away. I am just a person. I am nothing more. The light. The dark. The balance that gave me life to reality.  My belief in you, mattered more than any pain. Please, forgive me.... I must step in the circle. To exchange what is desperately needed. May these prayers save this world. _Dust to ash_ _I will love you until nothing is left of me_ _I am sorry_
0
Jul 14, 2022
Jul 14, 2022 at 2:33 PM UTC
Dust To Ash.
Choose your ending for your story. _You get right or you do right pick one_ Everyone thinks there's no other option given. It may seem selfish. I am not able to be fair to bare this.  I am careless. This is it. Where the writing stops. Conjuring of spells. They were called poems right? Good times. Bad times. All of time comes to meet an end. _Dad_ It's not your fault. You are more than my everything. I am tired. You give me strength to carry on. Sometimes, everything I do is not enough. Do not place your values in materialistic things. Your values and morals are worth more. Its important, how air is essential to life. I will miss everything. While watching it all burn. I am tired of pain in my face. I am tired of the weights on my hearts. My soul is anchoring me to everything, I was scared of. I thought I would be. Rewind the good back to the worse things. _I can feel all of the world is reversing...._ _Tears in my eyes, I am letting everyone I love down_ _My love is dangerous and it all hurts me...._ _I'll be happy when the sun drowns....._ Red. Black. White fire. I never knew how to properly use these abilities. I bleed out the negativity for an exchange of holiness. _Don't do this to yourself please. You're a father....YOUR SON NEEDS YOU_ I will miss these simple things, the wind on my skin. Nature singing through the trees. Unconditional love. My soul is riddled with so much hatred towards my mistakes. I am sorry for my everything not being enough. I hope you can save this world without my spells. I never meant to condemn you. Life and death fought for ages for me. It is meaningless, it can carry my soul away. I am just a person. I am nothing more. The light. The dark. The balance that gave me life to reality.  My belief in you, mattered more than any pain. Please, forgive me.... I must step in the circle. To exchange what is desperately needed. May these prayers save this world. _Dust to ash_ _I will love you until nothing is left of me_ _I am sorry_
Continue reading...
23