"rivaled" poems
I’ve found another gem in the creek,
it shines with blue orbs in the sun
and white pearls before a coffee
black canvas. I will keep this one
but I can’t remember
where I put the last one… time
took it away on travels tragic— mythic—
and I don’t miss it anymore
now that I have you, my shiny gem,
smoothed geode, cracked
down the center
like the last earthquake that struck my passions
terrified I’ll lose you, I put you away
in a perfect box, in the perfect darkness
of a crawl space crack, a loose closet wallboard
where I will never look again,
hidden
by an idea, hidden
by what I need you to be,
hidden with furious passions
only rivaled
by that of a 12-year-old’s rock collection.
Feb 17, 2011
Feb 17, 2011 at 11:24 PM UTC
She crept in through my window sill,
As fair as autumn moonlight, and as sleek as silver silk,
Her eyes they shone like summer rain,
And void they did, of all my pain,
The ruby of her lips, rivaled the roses of the morn,
And the beauty of her face, rivaled the coming of the dawn,
She crept in through my window sill, nothing she did take,
She crept in through my window sill, and my heart she did break.
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
She was music and he was mathematics- without one, the two would not exist.
He was light and she was love and their energies intertwined and intermingled to form a helix of ecstacy and consciousness...
their combined energies rivaled that of an atomic bomb.
Feminine and masculine,
Right brain and left brain...
Simultaneously hard and soft
smooth and rough
Calming and chaotic.
She was fire to his water, but he never sought to put out her flames.
When they finally came together physically and their eyes met, colors of a psychedelic sort exploded around them
And the universe held its breath in anticipation of their consummation...
and every piece fit more snuggly together than the pieces of an old familiar jigsaw puzzle...
This couldn't have been the first time that they had met...
well, maybe in this lifetime.
~KiCo the Conqueror
#TwinFlame
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 8:37 PM UTC
Everyday’s affliction with what we know is missing
Countless moments wishing that fishing was as simple as whistling
Remembering that willows wither in winters un-warmed
and wandering wonders willfully repose when rivaled against ripening woes
Come closer potential memories of exposes’
Clothes skydiving with expectations of faceplanting into the floor
Lady classifications disguise the actions depicting a *****
Heaping hopefuls cascade over glistening gazes that persuade the perilous to lay dormant
Come closer to the oops
That second guess in the back of your head that taps the shoulder and says go
That same go that was an initial no and now corruption has spidered the criteria
It seems the cat may have found the trick to the ball of yarn
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 10:26 PM UTC
You promised to take me to the woods and sleep with me under the stars,
You promised me an adventure,
And by God you took me on one-
You weaved me through forest just trying to find you,
Searching for your remnants in the fallen leaves and branches scattered across the forest floor
You led me to a tall tree where I could carve our names into the wood, as selfish as that was,
And deface beautiful Mother Nature because I thought our love was also as breathtaking as she.
Our love was breathtaking-
You whisked me away and ran us to the tops of mountains.
You took me to peaks where I felt alive,
And valleys where I felt so down to earth I could've melted into the paths we paved
The same way I did every time your arms wrapped around my waist
And your head rested on my shoulder,
And you whispered in my ears about how you didn't want to be anywhere else.
I jumped rocks and cliffs with you,
Falling so hard and fast the same way I did
Any time you looked at me with those patient eyes,
Any time you found the time to hold me and love me in any way you could muster.
I fell into water and your sea eyes any time I jumped;
You made me fall so **** hard.
You took me to the edges of sunsets
That never rivaled the way your smile shined
When I told you I loved you,
Or rivaled the way your face looked when you laughed.
You had Mother Nature beat when it came to beauty.
You had me beat when I tried to find a reason to be upset you never actually took me on an adventure like you promised,
Maybe because falling in love with you was an adventure all in itself;
You left me blistered, aching and sore.
But I left you with the world in my eyes, the sea dripping from them,
The mountains weighing on my heart
And the shores soaking my soul because venturing into your world meant I had left my own,
And it took me so much **** time trying to find a path back to mine.
You took me for one hell of an adventure,
And the paths you treaded left footprints in my heart
That are blown away but aren't forgotten.
You promised to take me out to see the sights and walk the world-
Falling in love with you took me for an adventure that you didn't plan for,
And one I couldn't sustain much longer.
That's the thing about you, us, adventures-
They're thrilling and beautiful,
Breathtaking and wild.
They come to an end though,
And the adventure you took me on stained me with a sense of wanderlust you'll never come to see or know.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC
In a distant dystopia, it towers above all.
It radiates a dim blue glow, that
Transfixes eyes and minds alike.
Pulling with the gravity of 20,000 suns,
Its force cannot be rivaled.
An irresistible, iridescent abomination, and
An admonition unto the autonomy of thought.
Weaving tapestries of illusory illustrations,
Into the indigent intellect of its unsuspecticng viewers.
It's images penetrate the psyche like magic, as
Minds are manipulated into the madness, of
Mass consumption of manufactured "needs."
Its reporters replace reason with rhetoric, for
Objectivity is no obeject in an age of sound bites.
It demonizes difference, distracts, and desensitizes.
Apathy becomes queen, and facile pleasures become king.
Remember your vigilance.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 4:40 AM UTC
the first time we kissed you initiated it
you were nervous (i think)
and i.. i wanted you.
so badly
to hold your hand
to feel your heart beat
to touch your lips with mine
i hadnt kissed anyone in over 6 months
i lost count; a blur of lips
and tastes,
and people who never even mattered even then in a fruitless attempt
to find a pair that rivaled yours
about a month ago, you reappeared
the second time we kissed (after about 2 yrs) i initiated it
and. it. was. wonderful.
in the morning you asked if you could kiss me again anytime soon
if it was alright
what i said was yes
but what i meant was
in the second kiss i realized yours are the only lips i could ever want for the rest of forever
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 12:57 AM UTC
Prideful father of two men
Even to his eldest day
Remained stiff and unbroken
While Hector was taken away
His inner strength rivaled steel
Enough to make his enemies kneel
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
The wind swept across sheering dunes of white sand
the way certain kinds of dancers sway
like flames
The way young children often play
free of their father’s shame
It filled his lungs with the fire of his innocence
and the longer he inhaled the larger he grew
no sooner had he rivaled mountains
did he hear the cries of his former self
this being bound in chains spoke thus
*Be wary Apricus,
many great men have had their heads over hills
and their fates delivered them to the stake.
Are you willing to burn, to crumble into ash
and return to the dirt of mother earth
for all that you believe?*
Broken by doubt,
the mountain becomes a man again
but the heart of a giant still swelled inside of him
It raged against his fragile frame like a violent slave
until it grew weary of its own restless thunder
and there it sunk into the deep,
the deep frore of a wintry slumber
Sleep for now my lively child
for the hearts of giants reside inside of all men
but first they must learn to love themselves
before the giants can walk the earth again
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 9:19 AM UTC
Today, I'm going to **** them with kindness.
I'll walk the streets with a skip in my step,
corners of my mouth arched, skin tough.
I will be rubber. I will not be glue.
I will avoid sticks and stones.
I will be Teflon.
Yesterday, I killed someone, with kindness.
I created art, in many ways, I created Hell.
A page filled with gestures may seem ageless, however,
a spectacular self-awareness occurs.
There is closure. There is completion.
Unlike the manipulation of one's face.
There too is completion, but closure is not
always certain. Some leave with last words
that linger. Some lift their arms to The Lord,
Lord hear their prayer. And others find
themselves at peace, living on in the hearts
and minds of others, loved or not.
Is a legacy more important to an Atheist?
That's speculative, I suppose. But if what they
say is true, and most CEO's are psychopaths,
then I would assume that it is. Monetary value
will always triumph over theoretical morality.
And I say that morals and ethics can be theory
to a man certain of his faith, because in the end,
sin can be absolved. Faith in a higher being, in
something bigger than yourself, often leaves
thought of peers as dismissible. For they have
their own demons to overcome.
How do you accept indifference in a system
that is above natural law? Omnipotence should
never be exposed to have a grey area, especially
when it is considered to be set in stone. Oxygen
and gravity aren't, but tell that to a man who
is falling and trying to catch his last breath.
Lastly, consider art.
As the creator, the mastermind hidden in
the clouds to let his work speak volumes.
The divine grace that is told in brush strokes,
in notes placed to play, to be presented.
That's a beauty that is foresaken.
Another key representation of something
seen but not seen.
Even a deaf man delivered notes he could not
hear, rivaled ones able, and challenged normality.
The difference between an artist, and
a person producing art, is that an artist
will use blood, whereas the latter
searches for a comparable color.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 5:41 PM UTC
Stunning she called the morning to gather it was her reflection that made all luminous and she
Turned from side to side all quarters of sun and shade settled in precise conforming feature it
Had no deviation it had no desire but was content to be her blossoming statement where her
Hair softly flowed down the sides and back was illusion and reality colliding slipping into a soft
Dark unspoken richness that defied appropriate telling her forehead was the first mold God
Used to make the first Angel from this creation dreams were first formed they arose mist like in
The quietest indulgence of the mind the eye brows were the seeding place of richest
Placements on fine porcelain it would begin the guessing of wonder how can such creation be
The eyes were jewels not mined in any worlds that we know cheeks aglow from fires deep
Within jungles unexplored by man the nose pristine you have to venture forth to rarest tents
Where nomads set in the midst of tapestry where inlaid golden folds lay with purist
Silver and emerald cloth and distilled breathing of goddesses and gave them a fitting that
Staggered the thoughts of those who came to look on these sights her lips were desire
Encapsulated in pink the entering of layers rivaled one another one on the top and between
Teeth a mix of ivory and pearl to be exposed was to lose ones breath and cast away
Reason briefly the chin the master stroke the line flowing from the ear was the perfect order
Holding all in eye appealing perfection the neck was enthralling understated composure
Shoulders rounded joining the graceful arms that premiered as musical a ***** that completes
Everything into perfection curvaceous loveliness man proclaims his strength woman surpasses
Him through soft quiet femininity that even assures his success through these powers that rise
Not from pride but from gifts that is profound and indescribable not better than man but the
best of man resides in her heart of hearts
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC
my heart is on fire
one half cup espresso, a vape
and a song that drapes my heart in a purple fire,
with the same purple glow inside the go go bar
where that dancer handed Bukowski a dried lily
But only for a moment.
lesson #104 and the
music rides a sine wave into
my left ear.
I sat upon a lotus pad and kept
a straight back
the Angelus Novus couldn’t (insert link)
close its wings against
the winds of Paradise so
elated were the Gods by the
progress of man.
so high the rubble of the wreckage the
view from its summit rivaled the
vantage gained from
standing atop the Six Grandfathers within the
Four-headed Dog from across the pond.
national broadcast in the jungle and
all the box would do is
talk
and all the cockroaches would do is
persist
and all the machetes would do is
hack
and all the bodies burned
and Felicien Kabuga was kindly granted asylum by the West
and remained at large for over 25 years.
THANKS A LOT SWITZERLAND.
(insert link)
Aug 12, 2020
Aug 12, 2020 at 6:22 PM UTC
its not like i traded up
or for that matter down
every cog still turned to the left
each lever, still up and down
it started like an episode
of ricky lake
and ended abruptly
on springer
im in the sound proof booth
judging those who stand encased
aside me
i should leave before this gets ugly
indiscretion led me here
fortitude kept me
embarrassment fed me words
and loss encapsulates all
every stitch
the joy and glee
lost to ants in a wildflower patch
it stings now
verbosity rivaled only by impetus
but quickness
if only counted in months
falls short with words
im sure there's a happy ending
a call in the black of midnight
in a letter carefully opened
through a kiss tentatively given
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC
I dress in black
I listem to screamo.
Asking alexandria and
Bmth all day
But emo tho?
I dunno.
I like black alot.
I wear it alot
And skinny jeans are my best friend.
People tell me I'm emo
Like it's a bad thing.
I think being emo is a beautiful thing.
I dont cut.
Never will
But i stand down sometimes.
Being emo should be a privilege.
Its not bad.
If i am emo
Than i am strong
I have a spirit not rivaled by many.
I can endure being screamed at because i prefer it in my music.
I will grow out my hair because i can
And my band t shirts will hold their own special place in my closet.
If i am emo
Than so be it
But i will not be slandered
For who i am
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 1:16 AM UTC
While strolling down a river heading seaward
I stopped beneath a sweeping willow tree
And lay peacefully gazing upward
Till slumber’s charms warmly captured me
An idyllic scene that seldom could be rivaled
All round, nature’s gifts were freely poured
And yet in the midst of untold beauty
Was a strident note of sad silent discord
Oh, why weepest thou willow
In this beautiful field of green
What memories create your unhappiness
What sorrows have you seen?
Can a willow yearn to meet another willow?
Does loneliness drive your arms so wide?
Does the lush, soothing facade of your canopy
Conceal a broken heart, deep inside?
Sometime later I awoke in thoughtful silence
Oh Willow, why does’t thou weep
What were your sapling aspirations
What sad and sorry secrets do ye keep?
Jan 7, 2011
Jan 7, 2011 at 6:02 AM UTC
Bones in the rye field they sang, brittle stems of iron spreading leaves of
rust
A hidden look in watery eyes, secret sickness, ripping my guts
asunder
That space between midnight and morning when the world has been reduced
to monotone
In the blue-gray lucidity we sit, absorbed in cigarettes and gusting
wind
A few notes of Satie and I’m sitting in that blue room again, bamboo out the
window
Your voice like a finger running up my spine, singing to me, drowned out by
spring showers
Clay pots on the shelves, wilted sunflowers on the floor, grass pushing its way
through the floorboards
I step into falling rain, dream of sleep, dream of nothing, the blankness between
wakefulness
Hands carrying the scars of a thousand days, much like the day before, unconscious of
its passing
In tired two syllable words we exchange our hearts
In smiling kisses we pass each other breath, fresh like fertile ground split by
rugged plow
Black and white photographs in odd fitting drawers with cheap brass
handles
A pocket watch carried by many men before me, strewn upon stained counters
and newspaper clippings
I will these tired eyes to come to their senses, absorbed in a single word in a single
line
Losing their focus for minutes at a time, the sensation of drifting, the feeling of
fading
Like watercolor or lines in well-trod earth, shuffled into meaningless
harmonics
I still miss the sound of your violin, though you thought no one listened through
that ***** window
Scraps of Scriabin and Brahms, your symphonies saved me many a night
Such frail hands and white scalp, but you did not shake when bow met
fingers
Those nights of cheap Merlot, secretly stealing a moment of calm from your
skilled hands
The records never quite rivaled those nights, my unknown
friend
Jun 22, 2012
Jun 22, 2012 at 8:25 PM UTC
i like you a lot
like maybe more than mary jane..
and she's my main
***** because when I'm with her
I can't remember the definition of the word ******
but I'm nervous for this fervor you stir in me
when i laugh with you i don't need ****
and that's crazy coming from
miss wake and bake
lunch break light up
dinner doobie
and don't forget the late night blunt ride
but you make me feel so high
my cheeks hurt and my stomach bursts
with butterflies sometimes i forget to eat
because I'm too busy staring into your baby blue eyes
my heart dances in my chest even worse than when i have anxiety
but it's different
i gave you my heart on a silver platter
but pulled it away the second i had a hint you may not deserve it
and that made both of us feel worse than
when your **** shattered
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 11:31 AM UTC
summer is nearing its end and I find myself mourning its loss
never have I considered myself one suited for the heat--
the sharp flames of raging arguments are enough to burn me to a crisp
but I smell the heady scent of smoke, thick with ash and cooking food
and I hear the birds sing to each other as if it were their last time
and the sky is blue and clear and it stretches onwards to the sun, which is setting in shades of coral and ocean brine
I feel the loss keenly in my chest, a bittersweet longing for the summers in which I lit up the sky with how brightly I shone
scorched and forged, my heart of hearts was unyielding and flooded my body with luminosity that rivaled the stars themselves
invulnerable and filled with a relentless energy that could not be stopped
until it burned out alone
I miss those days where I felt as if I were controlling the sea itself,
pulling and pushing like a brand new moon
the days where I flew so high on swings and sand dunes I thought I may never come down
where everything fit in the center of my palm and I held on tightly because no one could shatter my world
but these days, I sit and watch as the real star settles down to sleep beneath the ocean waves
and feel my skin become painted by the swathes of color in the sky
the sounds of motors and sirens remind me that I am no longer floating above it all
my brief flash long since faded, just as any other firework lit at dusk
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 9:34 PM UTC
I stole away, with an
Angel intent on keeping
Me company, for my
Last day on earth
She drew my name in the clouds with
Ink she bought from God,
Broke my bed,
Ripped my blankets, and
Sat me down to
Mock my ignorance
Needing a place to sit,
We built a bench, out of
Broken promises
Each knot in the wood
Melted into a bitter syrup, as I
Recommitted it to memory
We drank coffee behind the
Store that sold my
Innocence to those more
Deserving of the
Luck they’d received.
Their tender was
Myth and merchandise,
Final sale,
No return.
The torn soles, on the shoes I
Wore, slid softly through the
Field of grinning flowers, their
Beauty rivaled only by their
Obvious ignorance
Fingers wrapped my wrist,
Departure was inevitable
Wings spread, we soared over the
Blue and purple of the
Flowers, shaded darkly by the
Sun’s embarrassment
But from miles up, my
Sight, seemingly unchanged by my
Decreasing proximity
Showed me their vigilant smiles
Had she dropped me
Anywhere else, the
Beautiful field of
Terminal foliage
Would sway the same, with
Each windy eve
I woke up, drunk on
Sleep and whiskey, as the
Sobering veracity of my
Failure to keep dreaming
Became achingly apparent.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 12:09 PM UTC
*We loved
With a love
That I didn't know existed.*
This is not a love poem;
This is a ballad
Of all the sweet love songs
that finally made sense,
This is a dictionary
Defining the new outlook on life you gave me,
This is the final scene
Of something so perfect,
It had to be nothing much more than fiction.
God stitched together
All of my cuts and wounds
With thread made of your touch,
Your scent, your voice,
Your laugh, your hair flip,
Your 'I love yous', your leftover strands of hair
Still clinging to all of my clothes,
As if this distance between us
Was never there in the first place.
We were like Romeo and Juliet,
Discarding what everyone had to say.
I loved you like I was an abused dog
Straggling along, pouncing on any piece of meat
That came my way
Until you held me tight close to you,
Letting me know that
It'd all be okay.
Your love rivaled that
Of the Sun and the Moon,
You had shed light on my world
When I couldn't see
Past my insecurities and downfalls,
And brought shooting star showers down upon me
When it seems like the bad days could not get any longer.
We trekked over hills and valleys
And sure, sometimes, we slipped -
but we always made sure
That we got back up and kept going.
Our love was a perfect melody,
And sometimes, we struck a sour note,
But your voice was always a beautiful symphony
That slowed everything back down to its right pace.
I loved you
like diamonds yearning
For the perfect ray of light
To grace its surface
So that it may project a perfect spectrum
Upon your naked left ring finger
That i had daydreams every day
Of staking as my territory.
We were a binary solar system
In supposed equilibrium
Until your gravitational pull
Ripped away all my outer layers
And you left me vulnerable,
so that you could use all my flaws
To become a black hole
and tear my whole being to shreds.
I loved you
Like the breeze loves flowing through
Your hair, making a cascading waterfall
that left me drowning in your beauty.
But now -
You're not mine anymore.
And I'm not okay with that.
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC
Into a spiral of words, we go once more
Into the head of a madman;
On the contrary, he is self-proclaimed,
None proves he is a madman, after all.
He sets his machine ablaze,
Sculpting words upon his hundred epitaphs,
Exclaiming he'll end his hell today,
And rise again, tomorrow.
He is but a tinker of words,
He is but a feeble being;
Unable to voice the change he desires,
Unable to converge in the norms.
His machine seems rusted,
Rusted, but not broken;
Spewing out nonsense in disguise,
Molding empty grandeur.
It is not his machine that needs repairs,
It is the Tinker who seeks soothe.
He toils upon his machine,
Only to find that none is wrong;
It still basked in ivory and gold,
It still made what it does.
Yet, why does the Tinker feel such incompleteness?
All was vague, until it, came;
It had a smile that rivaled the sunrise,
It gave the Tinker the eyes to see the truth,
It showed him the light, and umbra of life.
It guided the Tinker to the stars;
It made the Tinker feel new again.
Together, they tinkered the machine once more,
And together, they saw the marvel before their very eyes;
They were truly, a cog and a catalyst.
Yet all is not forever.
It vanished without a trace.
It left the Tinker lost.
With its departure,
It left wake of the darkness in his heart.
His eyes grew dimmer,
He saw his masterpiece again, as a loss,
A failure.
The Tinker left death to feed upon his happiness,
The Tinker felt incompleteness once more;
He gambled for it to stay,
Yet all gambles fail in the end.
Yet the Tinker never knew,
It never left him.
The Tinker was made a fool over nothing;
Art lest, just offer nonsense, in love's yonder.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 8:32 AM UTC
I fell in love with the angry winds
the deep breaths of the world unbridled
they cannot be stopped nor ever be rivaled
the winds that whip and whistle
tear at the roofs and sting like thistle
bring down the hard rains, bring down the hail
with thuds of pain, that makes the earth wail
winds that bend the tall trees to bow and crack
that tear at their leaves, their needles and break their backs
the winds that herald the storms to come
the winds who follow to blow them away
the wind who's voice urges the seas to writhe and spray
that forces and leads all things astray
bringing in new clouds with hues of gray
I fell in love with the angry winds
who blew away all of my angry sins.
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 3:51 PM UTC
***** bottles measured the level of my importance
as a wary 14 year old,
full of self-importance and a hatred so
ravenous it rivaled the anger faced by the sea as the shore
refused to accept the numerous kisses it was given.
Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 2:45 AM UTC
I found myself cheekily smiling today
The type of smile I only do rarely
The type of smile that hasn't visited
This earth in a real good while
I want to smile like that everyday
I want to look stupid while grinning
Like a fool,
Because that feeling that bubbles up
When I smile like that,
It is rivaled by no other
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 2:09 PM UTC