"rids" poems
Oh why am I still hurting
Isn't it past the hour of pain?
Hell is only temporary
Til He rids you of all shame!
I stepped into Your room
Try to relive Your relieving
To rid me of my gloom
Try to receive Your revealing
Jealous the jealous God
I seek restless for Your love
Mine eyes grow tired and weary
Jealous the jealous God
Jealous the jealous God
I drown helpless in Your flood
I thirst scarcely for Your mercy
Jealous the jealous God
Why is the world so empty
Yet weighs millions o' pounds?
Where lies pile up aplenty
To keep the lost from being found
Why is deception
Like form of education
Setting false foundations
Corrupting His creation
As lies disguise damnation
For a paper-clad salvation
Sending ill vibrations
To the youth of all the nations
I wonder how much am I missing, o God?
A wonder even the universe cannot contain
Translated and made compatible in a human's brain.
Soulless animals kiss the land
In honor of the One
Who was, who is and is to come
Who dares their doubt expand
In disbelief blot out the sun
Jealous the jealous God
Soulless animals indeed we have become
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
You ever had a feeling
That you wanted to die?
And acted on this feeling
And you survived
And questioned why
You're still alive?
You ever had a,
Ever had a feeling?
That made you wanna,
And acted on this feeling.
You ever had a feeling
That rids you of all reason?
And makes you hate your very being?
You are blind
And I'm searching for a feeling
Can't find a feel,
Because none of it is real
I'm traumatized
You say that it's not real
You are blind
And searching for a feeling,
I'm.
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 6:53 AM UTC
Platonic love is what I seek,
Platonic love is just what I need,
free from the sensual
and
free from the physical
touches of a man,
All I need is the platonic love
that a man can give me.
Platonic love goes ever so deep,
It goes beyond what the sensual
can't give to anyone.
You are more connected to the one you love
because platonic love is the perfect love
No need for the physical, no need
for the lust, the platonic love is
perfect for everyone.
*** is over-rated, it causes so many problems,
but if you go farther into the platonic love
it rids you of all of those problems.
It rids you of the love of material things,
Platonic love is so simple and gives you
every thing.
Oh give me platonic love,
that is deep and so true,
Platonic love will never
leave you.
Oct 26, 2011
Oct 26, 2011 at 11:33 AM UTC
Do you ever just have the
biggest ******* crush on
someone ever and you just
know it wont work because
they're too old or you're
not good enough or they
and too attractive for you
so you pretty much spend
what feels like eternity
having the explainable
feeling for them until it rids
of the small bit of heart
you have left until you find
another person to have the
same ****** feeling towards.
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 9:59 AM UTC
It's out with the old
And in with the new.
Spring cleaning
Rids my closet of
Bony skeletons
And chests of horrors.
All those times,
All those memories
That were swept
Under the rug,
Shake them out,
Beat the dust,
The feelings until
Last October's filth
Becomes clean again.
Repaint this room.
Refurbish that sofa.
Redo the tile.
Run your hand
Down the banister.
Feel the cinder's from
Last fall's fire,
The remnants, the remains.
Make my building
Like new again,
Untouched, as if
For the first time,
For the first buyer.
May 11, 2011
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 1:36 AM UTC
Her Aura is the aurora in Crystal skies, when she smiles heaven is alive, within her heart you'll find the sanctuary for love.
My heart would betray me for her and lead me to places where joy rids me of despair.
Consumed completely by love I'm dared by bliss, a stranger I've never met.
My mind a gallery of her beauty,
priceless masterpieces I shall never part with.
Starve me of food and water I can survive, but away from her arms I lose the meaning of life.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 3:30 AM UTC
~The sensation of experiencing everything
Everything is never nothing; worthy of remembering
~ Beauty surrounding your senses, inhale with every breath
You're invincible, the outline image of mystery
~ Looking over with increased anticipation
All words are shuffled with variation
~ Confident in your surroundings, anywhere and everywhere
Thrilling vibes, never realize a judgmental stare
~ Only recognize the unrecognizable, every detail
Every aspect of life, all in different realities
~ Immortal visions, images sufficient for a lifetime
Liberating memories, sensational at its very prime
~ Gleaming within the mind, I feel the feels you feel
With intertwined consciousness, we debate on what's real
~ Implausible explanations, never impossible excuses
To acquire this forever, would inflict internal bruises
~ This level of fun, fundamental producer of freedom
For, this prosperous feeling rids you of being numb
~Meagan Williams
1.15.13
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 5:49 AM UTC
it's been so long since I've cried
it feels like years
no matter how much I've tried
i could not cry any tears
every pain that I've endured
every mistake I've made
i held it in, safe and secured
i thought my emotions would fade
Now it has all returned
tenfold, hundredfold, never ends
the pain in my chest forever spurned
can't figure out how to make amends
So now my tears flow like waterfalls
and i feel pain but gladness
because everything that my mind recalls
rids me of all my madness
All that is left
is a broken me
but less broken
and ready for the world to see
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 4:46 PM UTC
there is a child inside her liar
and a liar inside her kid
when we go out to the market
she is actually out on the beach
when we take turns to feed the dogs
she thinks of all those nights
when moon was dark as a commode
and his books were in her sight
we used to drink the coffee all by ourselves
till she discovered a simple fact
His IQ is what matters
for rest she can be a fake
the child has gone away for now
and liar is all i see
the kid will come back in the end
when she finally rids of me
lately i have heard she got married
and his brain is her vanity
I feed the dogs all by myself
and the moon is bright for free
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 3:37 PM UTC
Poetry is my blank paged bible, my desolate scripture, my calligraphic beckon, my feather-inked-tip to empower the thoughts that run.
The pressure, this monster that builds inside me only fades to release.
I can't let this bad wolf grow, the beast needs to be sown, into the fibers of these pages, advice spoken from the wisest of the sages.
This literature, this free world, rids me from my worries and silences the flurry, that spins and rages inside of my heart and soul. Silences the whispering foes. I only wonder why I let it go.
Hello Poetry, I need you.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 2:47 AM UTC
I am in love with chance and all her open promises, inherent risks, and bountiful rewards. I am in love with the idea of gambling myself into existence and riding the dice on a whim. Certainty bores and scares me, permanence poisons my happy mindset. I need risks and dangers and dumb ideas, it is in these that I find the fruit of life.
I am in love with chance. She calls my name often, beckoning me to spend the night. She seduces me with ***** talk and a proven mind, flooding my heart with her drug. I long to fall into her, with her, to kiss her mouth and taste the poison of an uncertain life. I crave her in the night when there is naught but doubt in my mind.
I am in love with chance and the chaos she brings. She is a storm that tosses my little boat on waves that could equally take me to paradise or a watery grave. She is fairness and equality, for chaos is truly fair, it rids me of order and structure. Her screaming pleasure enraptures me with a sodden wealth and unhealthy appetite for potential glories.
I am in love with chance. She is my mistress, my plaything, the dark shadow that leaves my bed before the morning light. She is the elusive lover to whom my young heart belongs, the fiery being to which my trust is pledged. Chance has yet to let me down – perhaps that is why I love her. I am never disappointed in chance for she is, above all, fair and just. There is not evil or malice in she, there is no hidden agenda or destructive intent.
I am in love with chance.
I am in love with chance.
I am in love with chance and her barren wealth.
I am in love with chance and the way she feeds my zealous lust for life.
I am in love with chance and she loves me.
I am in love with chance and I must choose…
I must choose between her love and your certain certainty.
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
Birds of a feather flock together,
which explains why I don't have many friends.
I'm an outcast even on the island of misfit toys.
I'm your childhood doll,
we're inseparable until you outgrow me,
until you stuff me in the bottom of your closet
for me to wait for you to take advantage of me again.
"Best friend" is a foreign expression
when everyone you let your guard down for rids themselves of you like the shedding of old skin.
I'm the last one picked for dodgeball,
for partners in English class,
for weekends out,
for a phone call,
for a text message.
If friends are supposed to be forever, I guess I forgot to read the fine print.
I'm what happens when lonely is less an adjective and more a personality trait.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
What to buy, Who to be
This is a harmless harmony
First comes love, then comes trust;
A defenseless memory in the dust
And what could I, so ever in motion,
could contribute to this ocean
that I call Earth and you call Here --
my eyes are a farmhouse portrait,
far and near.
With and without, give my E! take
Sometimes I feel like this hunger
is my and your mistake.
Withering windows give view to past,
give mention to something through
alliterative glass.
What could it be, When could it throw
my life and your life in a redundant television show,
where the laughter is canned, the love staged,
the buying and dying of products we have caged
ourselves in, in bulk, ourselves in a religion of none.
Time to blister with imagery, A delicate, bouncing light
traveling across a sea, moving towards me, moving
towards you, across the darkly shimmer of a reflector
blue, and the denim drugs and t-shirt ***
the Fat Elvis rock in your lap, Nationalistic paranoia:
the red, white, and blue on your hat, fading, fading
among the shards of air, warm and vibrant,
Terror-Freedom clarity spittle-lip cat bath,
and my laces around the neck of the sound that skips
lids and rids of hipster brains and howling barks
from trees and boys with new noise, killer and robust
in the teenage, young adult, serial defenseless dust.
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
He's tending the garden.
Earth on his hands
Sweat on his neck.
Sprinkling seeds
From freshly spent flowers.
I can't see his eyes behind his Ray Bans
But I know they're focused, delighted
Observing the occupants and visitors
In his cultivated oasis.
To keep the garden nurtured,
protected,
is critical.
He worries when the storms roll in.
How will they fare?
But he does what he can.
He rids the area of weeds
And cares for slender stems.
It's a promise kept
To tend and till.
In the garden he's a father too.
Nov 8, 2021
Nov 8, 2021 at 10:41 AM UTC
There are some wounds so deep,
some wounds so irreparable,
that they cannot be cured.
These are wounds inflicted upon the heart.
These are wounds inflicted upon the mind.
These are wounds inflicted upon the soul.
These wounds are like a terminal illness.
They are like an incurable disease.
They make you a ***** within humanity.
They isolate you and destroy you.
This disease is initiated by the deterioration
of the mind through the realization that this
is an unnatural, man made, test tube and wired reality.
This is all wrong.
We are all wrong.
It is catalyzed by the deterioration of the heart,
once having experienced the pure cruelty of humanity.
It unveils the fantastic false creation of love and the mere
idea that people have ever given a **** about you.
It exposes the destructive outcome of hoping for
anything beyond your own control.
It is completed by the deterioration of the soul.
A lengthy but significant process that rids you
of your motivation to open your eyes to the
blank ceiling above you every morning.
It strips you of your ability to feel.
And, suddenly, you have lost your desire to wake.
These wounds…they are a terminal illness.
They are an incurable disease.
They are irreparable.
They are unyielding.
They are permanent.
And they are destroying me.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 3:16 AM UTC
*I love her so ardently
I take pride in holding her hand
And taking her in a tender embrace,
Feeling the warmth of her strong, fragile body
Full of broken pieces and bandaged scars,
An emptiness that fills my heart with compassion
And rids it of guilt because I know
She isn't going anywhere and neither am I.
Even after death tries to do us apart,
We will be buried side by side or
Have our ashes scattered in close proximity because,
Oh lord, I cannot dream of ever being apart,
Alive or lifeless.
She resides in a special garden
With shattered walls;
She smiles through the cracks
And giggles with her little mouth,
Tossing her hair perfectly as she does,
Making me fall harder and deeper
For her, with her...
Never will I let a tear of sorrow trickle down her face,
Never will I let her try to end this life full of strength.
I will forever be there when she calls,
And when she doesn't,
Just to communicate in silence
Letting the rhythm of our simultaneous hearts do the talking.
If we are war criminals, so be it,
For we shall wear our battle scars with pride,
Allowing no one to diminish what we have-
This reaction called L-O-V-E.
I shall live to make her smile,
And die holding her hands, yet smiling.
I will search for the queen of my dreams
For however long.*
***And I will love her ever so deeply,
The deepest love she will ever know.***
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 9:19 AM UTC
Does the poet live his own words
Measures up to what his verses promise
Strives for the heights his thoughts reach
Plays the part his writings reflect
Goes to any length to be good
Rids himself of all meanness
Is generous kind faithful trustworthy in his personal life
A lover a friend an aide a benefactor,
Or at the end of the day
Just a preacher
Who never is as tall as his sermons
But remains a run-o-mill guy
Who endowed with poetic skill
Spins in self-deceit webs of lies!
Does a poet ever endeavor
To become a poetry in motion?
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 1:00 PM UTC
Deep in the swamp, stuck in the muck
with weeds growing beyond where I reach
My knees are glued to mud, cemented
and water is creeping up to my chest
Anxiety rising with each creeping inch
as bugs swarm around, I feel their pinch
This lake rids of them, but what is underneath
is grimy and flesh-eating and searching for me
I look up but the sky is covered in thistle
so I submerge my head as sea monsters look at me
I go up for air but vines start choking me
as eels and mermaids snap at my ankles
Everywhere I breathe I am trapped in shackles.
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 8:53 PM UTC
Slither slither
Come hither
From castle to castle
We fear and hustle
Every house a fortress
Lock the gates at day
Everyone wants your money
Responsible for the poor
Buy socks from a street vendor
At an extravagant price
Save money at the supermarket
Because really your budget is tight
Give cigarettes to the druggies
At every traffic light
Give what you have left over
To charity; rids you of guilt
But the oraters in the halls
Of politics say you are the reason
You are the cause
The poor MUST commit treason
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 3:26 AM UTC
A vast landscape spanning mountains and valleys,
Enter entombed upon the dark marsh and gullies.
-
The trees, all decayed except the weeping willows,
Flattened forests jut up through the hillocks.
-
The call of a raven can be heard betwixt,
The open cavemouth of all silence,
The breeze concerns your cheek’s fine flesh,
And you know inside that God exists.
-
The beautiful darkness that escapes the light,
Shocks as if thunder were having its fright.
-
From the gorgeous hillside at where Cain murdered Able,
To the trepid path leading to Four horses’ stable.
-
The wind’s vague touch clearing fallen leaves,
The spring’s dripping water rids of disease,
Ash of the cremated flows through the air,
Swept up, caught in without despair.
-
Sharing stories around a somber fire,
The warming words do stoke the pyre.
-
The Black Cabal does peak between,
The center valley betwixt mounts obscene,
-
The abhorrent cathedral in gothic fashion,
Does purify in all reactions,
Leaving clean and reborn again,
Remaining free for eternity to gate about Eden.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 7:35 PM UTC
We lie awake and dream our dreams, letting our thoughts flow like streams,
Like mist around the moon, on a warm night in June
They vanish.
Tick, tock the time rolls around the clock,
Slowly but surely fought, lessons, they never seem taught
Forgotten.
Although changed is expected, it is never fully accepted
A frightening contemplation, but a permanent deliberation
Such is life.
We’re positioned at this conditioned point
As time rattles on, like you’re just a pawn
In this short game.
A careless thought, no longer sought
Left alone life a leaf being blown
Away in the wind.
You can try screaming, just to find meaning
But what you desire will soon expire
As will it all.
Sewing the seam never truly gets rids of the dream
A life without strife
Would be wonderful
The thought of life without good-bye could make one’s heart fly
A million miles above, soaring like a dove
Away from the world.
Feb 23, 2011
Feb 23, 2011 at 5:15 PM UTC
Wisdom is seen in Men,
But in the possession of few.
but is it lucidity or madness that grabs hold an individual as he gets enlightened more?
Knowledge is an ocean without boundaries or limits as there should be,
but if one purses it in excess drown may he.
Beauty is in the light which rids a being of the darkness which he is consumed by.
but one must live and also embrace the madness it brings by.
Wisdom as madness it seems,
is a cure from the ignorance of the crowds everywhere there has been
Note: if you like my work, and would like to support it, then consider becoming a supporter at: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/alipoetry
Jul 18, 2021
Jul 18, 2021 at 10:44 AM UTC
Listen to the melody,
as the teardrops float down your cheeks,
the music rids my memory,
of everything haunting me,
When it gets dark,
it sorta feels like the end,
but still I won't give in,
I use these words,
to fight the battle,
so many have lost before,
but I don't believe they can beat me,
not anymore,
for I am so much stronger,
than I was before,
I can stay in the fight longer,
and theres no doubt I'll win.
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 2:19 PM UTC
I've been to a forest where the birds are always singing, and the echo in the forest, it too is always ringing, with the silence of the trees, and the rustle of the leaves, It's where I go to pray, on my knees, it's where I praise the creator of all I see; He gives me strength; He changes me.
Where rain falls in drops of silk,
where engulfing fog is white as milk,
where the notes from my flute,
are carried wide and far,
where moonless nights are black as tar,
I see the night sky painted in spots of white, and the moon shining bright,
where I can hear the lonely owl,
or the ghostly wolf howl,
where the sight of fireflies rids your heart of lies, and inspires perfect, poetic lines...
It's a little piece of paradise, where I go to clean my eyes.
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 5:48 AM UTC