"roped" poems
Mom said it's not a jungle gym,
It's not a jungle gym.
It's not a jungle gym.
It's not a jungle gym.
But it was a GIANT ELEPHANT!
And chains are for clanging
And metal is for banging
And roped off areas are for sneaking
Under
It’s not a jungle gym
It’s not a jungle gym
It’s not a jungle gym
I didn’t understand why mom wasn’t excited
She just stood next to me staring up at the Elephant
It’s not a jungle gym
I let go of her hand
It’s not a jungle gym
I ducked under the rope,
It's not a jungle gym
I almost didn’t need to duck
Then I touched the metal elephant,
To test if he was real.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 11:04 AM UTC
The engine is killing the track, the track is silver,
It stretches into the distance. It will be eaten nevertheless.
Its running is useless.
At nightfall there is the beauty of drowned fields,
Dawn gilds the farmers like pigs,
Swaying slightly in their thick suits,
White towers of Smithfield ahead,
Fat haunches and blood on their minds.
There is no mercy in the glitter of cleavers,
The butcher's guillotine that whispers: 'How's this, how's this?'
In the bowl the hare is aborted,
Its baby head out of the way, embalmed in spice,
Flayed of fur and humanity.
Let us eat it like Plato's afterbirth,
Let us eat it like Christ.
These are the people that were important ----
Their round eyes, their teeth, their grimaces
On a stick that rattles and clicks, a counterfeit snake.
Shall the hood of the cobra appall me ----
The loneliness of its eye, the eye of the mountains
Through which the sky eternally threads itself?
The world is blood-hot and personal
Dawn says, with its blood-flush.
There is no terminus, only suitcases
Out of which the same self unfolds like a suit
Bald and shiny, with pockets of wishes,
Notions and tickets, short circuits and folding mirrors.
I am mad, calls the spider, waving its many arms.
And in truth it is terrible,
Multiplied in the eyes of the flies.
They buzz like blue children
In nets of the infinite,
Roped in at the end by the one
Death with its many sticks.
6.2k
thus by prosecutor charg-ed, with this crime so heinous~ed,
the judge insisted on a super speedy trial, this, a special case-d
"can't wait to hang this ***** be~deviler,
got me a jail, second only to hell,
if he thinks his hifalutin lawyers will get him de-roped!"
I plead guilty to save the state some moola,
avoid the expense of all the attendant hoopla,
but in my tired defense, I said little but this,
it was god who cursed me with this word-ly power!
now I ain't saying I was naturally bad,
but who are you to judge me so harshly ,
when all I did, with a tool god~given, was,
tell people how beautiful they are, so close.
never far, from bringing them forth to their fruition
so my intentions were good, tho my goose is cooked,
loonily, this I truthfully willingly confess, though just as bad,
I was lazy, I was negligent, I am now hell-bent for many
infractions, the greatest, chiefest of them all, was all the times,
!!!!!
***read a poem much beloved by other's on this blue earth,
weak from jealousy jealous, I never...reposted it! for their way
much better than mine, and I was too selfish to praise them,
so I expect I won't be too lonely in perdition, just another poet***
!!!!!!!! addition
*so children, teach your children well
a poet's hell will slowly go by, if they
fail to repost them hundreds of poems
that mak'em gasp~laugh-just plain weep,
for that will really **** (sorry lord) the one
true judge wh gave us this wordy blessing,
and is eagerly awaiting us special*
sinners
and that just might be my one true name…
(Oh sinner~man!
where are you gonna run too)
[{(]})]
p.s. this poem readily available to be reposted ('jes a 'gestion)
even
plagiarized elsewhere, but remember, when you, who stole it,
somebody's a~watching whose
vision is unimpaired.
plus, I got new software invented by Ai trained teachers,
so so, easy to find ya...
Sep 28, 2025
Sep 28, 2025 at 5:14 PM UTC
I have come humble to seek your knowledge
With exhausted feet and weighing burden, I bear my heart
I have travelled far to arrive at the world's edge
Ready to receive what wisdom you will impart
I'll set myself cross-legged on the opposite of you
I see you peering, examining my physical entirety
With one good eye, you gaze right through
Makes me uncomfortable, if I may... But I'll hold steady
I notice you muttering but no words could be heard
Your hands hovering over a glassy globe with an ominous glow
You turn to the left, as if conversing with an invisible third
Whispering secrets that I will never learn to know
Shifting your gaze now into the crystal orb
What do you see, Wise One, in that ball of yours
You shudder upon it's touch as though it's power you absorb
Tell me, Soothsayer... What lies for me in this course?
You swiftly pull your hands behind your back
I flinch with a start at your sudden display
You bring back your hands revealing cards out of a stack
You tremble in spasms, dropping the rest leaving one for play
The card you place face down, right in front of me
You motion for me to pick it up and flip it round
I see the card bore inscriptions and ancient runes, quizzically
You ****** the card and begin chanting in odd sounds
Reciting your incantations, in a tongue I do not understand
They sound like curses rather than the answers I seek
It all ends almost as soon as it started... I can't comprehend
You then place your warm palms gently touching my cheeks
Your features softened as you stared into my sullen eyes
A connection like eternity trapped within seconds never going astray
Then you turn away to fetch a bundle roped in knots and ties
You hand it to me hastily before ushering me on my way
I am now perplexed much... What does it show?
What did you see, what does my future hold?
Please enlighten me what you've come to know
From all of that, what could you have foretold?
Bundle in hand I turn to leave your rundown shanty
As I leave, you speak in your voice, different from before
Soft yet raspy you say, *"Do not open till the end of journey"
"Open only when in house, behind closed door"*
Moon is up illuminating, as I make my way up north
Armed in hand a strange, scented, tied up bundle
Leaving with the same questions with no answers, I amble forth
Wondering if in the bundle I may find the missing pieces of the puzzle...
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 4:45 AM UTC
We are born unto a crown of thorns.
Our tender skin rendered vulnerable
to self-made deities, rambling idols.
Our minds are roped and tied, binding
our thoughts with punishments.
Punishments disguised as pathways of love.
What love is brought into this world, when love is
taught by the bloodshed of others. What people
are created with love made from threats
of searing flesh? When did love become less
about acceptance and more about separating
those deemed worth and unworthy?
Gods of fear curse our world with tainted
versions of love. We are forced to our knees
before the power of an almighty being unknown
to mankind. In searching for purpose, we have forsaken
our freedom. We fall victim to the fears that numb our
brains liked "Grade A" pharmaceuticals.
If your god is almighty, all loving, and all seeing,
why does he rule without mercy? Why does he
require full and complete submission as the only
pathway to him?
We go to war under the guise of bringing freedom.
Our politicians preach out from mountains our right
to freedom and free will. But when the votes are cast,
and the campaigns are run, we scuttle home to spread the
single most imprisoning ideological mindset to others.
Why fight for freedom,
when we give it away so willing
to a man behind smoke and mirrors?
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 2:51 AM UTC
She brought me to the devil—
swept the leaves off my brain
& we jumped in the pile.
After rolling a few
& burning
we bathed in wine
washing our minds
with chicken soup for the soul.
He appeared in the stars
& we smiled—
absorbing his card
through a lovely osmosis
supposing the black roses
hiding behind his back
were cut by a queen of swords.
We skipped roped
w/ a noose
cuttin’ loose our useless
baggage by tossing them over
a stony cliff.
As the devil lit a cigarette s/he mumbled
something about a conscious shift.
The devil gave us a gift—
It was a skull
inside a prince’s disk
shaped discus change purse.
“I bring you death as a parting
gift to show where to put the change.”
We laughed & giggled
as we played with plasma—
that’s liked fire cubed.
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 8:07 AM UTC
If you wake at midnight, and hear a horse’s feet,
Don’t go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street.
Them that ask no questions isn’t told a lie.
Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!
Five and twenty ponies,
Trotting through the dark—
Brandy for the Parson,
‘Baccy for the Clerk;
Laces for a lady, letters for a spy,
And watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!
Running round the woodlump if you chance to find
Little barrels, roped and tarred, all full of brandy-wine,
Don’t you shout to come and look, nor use ’em for your play.
Put the brishwood back again—and they’ll be gone next day!
If you see the stable-door setting open wide;
If you see a tired horse lying down inside;
If your mother mends a coat cut about and tore;
If the lining’s wet and warm—don’t you ask no more!
If you meet King George’s men, dressed in blue and red,
You be carefull what you say, and mindful what is said.
If they call you “pretty maid,” and chuck you ’neath the chin,
Don’t you tell where no one is, nor yet where no one’s been!
Knocks and footsteps round the house—whistles after dark—
You’ve no call for running out till the house-dogs bark.
Trusty’s here, and Pincher’s here, and see how dumb they lie—
They don’t fret to follow when the Gentlemen go by!
If you do as you’ve been told, ‘likely there’s a chance,
You’ll be given a dainty doll, all the way from France,
With a cap of Valenciennes, and a velvet hood—
A present from the Gentlemen, along o’ being good!
Five and twenty ponies,
Trotting through the dark—
Brandy for the Parson,
‘Baccy for the Clerk;
Them that asks no questions isn’t told a lie—
Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen bo by!
3.3k
First, you have get to an email address
and then fashion a sculpture
out of daisies and moonbeams
as a wedding present for your love;
practice your poetry because
it will come in handy when tongue tied;
pentameter is a pocket ace
and the game is cutthroat so you’re
gonna wanna have some ready;
calisthenics are required
as is having the right politics
but dissimilar guacamole preferences
are usually alright for awhile;
be sure to develop a tolerance
for sand between your toes;
learn to frolic, but never skip;
don’t buy a boat because nobody
has time for a sweater cape enthusiast
and drowning is very unromantic;
Grow roses and cook eggs every way
you can but ever respect the bacon;
Practice looking longingly;
Toss your hair and brush your teeth;
**** your socks but carefully
maintain just enough flaws
to seem endearing and then
forget all this because the only
time you chose to fall is suicide
and it’s kind of like a bridge jump,
so it’s time to just lie back and enjoy
the dopamine rush while it lasts;
you’ve roped a unicorn,
the fleeting chemistry of
your synapses will thank
or blame you later.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 1:21 PM UTC
The Helos hovered silently
as the Seals roped to the ground.
They touched down on Sesame Street
where the “Big Bird” could be found.
The C.I.A. had tracked him
Using feed from P.B.S.
President Mitt o.k’d the hit
when we tracked him to his nest.
A blue grouch in a garbage can
liay bleeding on the floor.
That **** named Cookie Monster
won’t eat cookies anymore.
Ernie, Bert and rubber ducky
Were in the bath they say
When Seal team six broke through the door
and blew them both away.
Big Bird hid in Hooper’s store
While all this had transpired.
Then he laid down suppressing fire
With a weapon he’d acquired
Several Seals lay silent
in that sleep that isn’t sweet.
Snuffleupagus opened up
and forced a Seal retreat.
A stealth Helo exploded
raining wreckage on the street.
Maddened Muppets hurling Bricks
compounded Mitt’s defeat.
As of today Big Bird’s at large.
Him we couldn’t whack.
The briefing failed to tell us
That a Liberal Bird fights back.
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 7:55 PM UTC
i.
Coming out of the state of anabiosis, mine form was ripped and torn, mine adorn was battered and burned, I went through Hades whilst the pit of death's kiss shattered me in agowilt;
ii.
I was dying, in Hell's kilt; once a shape, now ***** in a pit of unsatisfactory demon's; roped, doped, bleeding.
iii.
The scaled creature's bit me, the ceiling's muck dripped me, whilst at mine ending breath's, a light shined forthward, a Filipino empress.
iv.
I was nothingness: a mess, molested, infected, by the realm of raven's nest's. That's when she thundered in, in Baro’t saya wonder; twas me who on the sea, on her lip's i swirled up-with Satan down under, mine tears hadst fluttered by like butterfly's; mine ghost awoke with Jane;
v.
Twas, she was
Heaven on
Mine side;
She took me
For a ride,
Back to
Life
Again!!!
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 9:44 PM UTC
Inside of my body
Amidst death and poison
a virus lurks
in every
puddle,
pumping
blood that flushes
my tired heart
like
the river
Styx
Amidst this
battlezone
that is my
failing being
lies
a secret, sleeping
The cells swim by
They are
rarer
now like precious gems
the factories of my
fighting body
produced like
diamonds
born amidst feverish
forges within
a toxic mine
The gems,
they call them T-cells,
are now suicide bombers
converted daily
by the
whisper of
necromancy
They call
this
hex ***
a war against
your own
treasures
Yet my T-cells
are more,
runes blazing
mystic and
glowing,
antigen sorcery
that wards against
failing
Amidst
the 300,000 +sleeper
cells
that abandoned
my cause
Insurgence
bulges with
nightmare
The cells
clamour
growing with the whispers
of past victims
now roped into the
mystic chains, the wizards
call it RNA,
that bind us
An ironic family
of ghosts
who live
in each other
"junk DNA"
My body
is no junk;
instead a treasure
- what do they say
one man's trash?
My body
an
amalgamation
30 years
magic growing
twisted
like thorny vines
that must consume
their
helpless host
My
T-cells
inception
Worlds within me
the "JUNK"
of
lovers past
becomes entangled
in archives
carved in my bones.
Amidst recipes
of a poison
I cannot trace,
I am
ironically
linked
into
a
family of
ancestors
whose cries
beat in
my still
working heart
The drum
of the long fallen
crying for justice
...My blood
Our blood.
chains enmeshing
....ghosts I
will never know
Now parts of me
that lie sleeping in
Trojan horses,
all my own.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 6:16 AM UTC
Night,
and there is nothing more fragile
than this fever, an opus
of guitars swelling with song
and water, fluent
as the nocturnes are tuned
to the lower scale and strings vibrate deep within
the marrow as they ascend,
the soul blowing glass,
and filling the lungs
with a long slow taper of light, streaming
as fingers are brought to bear on frets
covered in hoarfrost,
and stray hair is pushed back from countenance,
to reveal the fractions of fire caught upon iris
there come slow indulgences,
and forgotten things,
to twine the body
in banners of winter silk,
scarves about the wrists, roped
in tethers and these feathers
of night-blooming jasmine
hang in long strands of pearl,
from my temple, teal threads of opal
and heather braids twine
the tone, the time
is not all poems
upon a blank page or songs
to coo the concert of souls
muted in chambers acoustically
formed of minutes, stolen in a glance,
at glimpse of skin or the tender touch
of cheek as eyes brim
soul-filled to overflow,
nocturnal blends the silent pause
between movements upon a page
where there is room for words,
though never found ,but in gesture
and margin's note that lays soft upon the tongue,
behind lips suited for sighs
these lost manuscripts begin
a long hand of notes held whole
Let the music play again,
its plea, eternal,
my love, please
do not forget how to preserve me,
for this is night,
and it is fragile....
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 6:54 AM UTC
He looked at me with luscious
devious eyes so, I winked asked
him did he want some action; his
look was of a fatal attraction and
his mind locked me in ******* his
eyes denuded my flesh as he suckled
my breast, I coiled in pleasured duress
He licked his lips as I submitted to his
lustful toying, moans acknowledge my
attraction to his lascivious actions and he
salivated ensnaring nakedness in roped
interaction
As his appetizing admonishment began;
I wickedly grinned and to his chagrin;
tightened my bonds, splayed cheeks
coaxing me to seep as his tongue licked
in calculated dips and I shuddered in
satisfaction with each sip
Wet lips began to quiver; each taunt
delivered, hands slid behind back with another
toy he attacked, eight inches long in & out, I began to
sing a song as pleasure surged, wracking my body;
begging for more each time its full measure dipped
into my treasure
I looked up as he turned me over dripping wet,
I smiled, winked again with another wicked grin,
fore, he had no idea what he'd gotten into; he tied
up the wrong nymph, thought I was just a sweet
kitten; had him smitten after gettin' a taste, as if,
he'd lost his mitten playing with this sultry kitten
Jun 29, 2012
Jun 29, 2012 at 4:50 AM UTC
under the stars
we danced the last dance of the night
to some slow tune
we danced the last dance of the night
just the two of us on the ballroom floor
with the ball spinning a world full of glittering stars
as the bargirl washed the glasses
and smiled at our soul to soul kisses
and as well bid her our fare thee well's
and walked cross the gravel lot
a breeze kicked up and unbound us
from reality
so we could sail home on a ship of dreams
i gathered her in my arms
and the world was light as air
we strayed along the streets
so quiet with slumber
and our shadows fell upon our door
like homecoming
she kissed me
and held herself there in my arms for a moment
as if to capture the fleeting moment
its frail wings beating soft and slow
and it is perfumed by her laugh
which is sleepy
and is followed by a trail of mumbles
like cowboys following the stars
like sheep playing in endless fields of fence
i followed them on down
and roped in the moon
set her in the bed
with its scent of roses and patchouli
she breaths softly here next to me tonight
bewildered that i should be so fortunate
to have such angels of beauty in my life
so we dance well into eachothers dreams tonight
with smiles for the
soul to soul kisses
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 9:38 PM UTC
my eyes opened to find
the thin lizard dawn gleaming
after the gutter drank its' fill
of the moon last night
the tambourine
buried in my lungs still
vibrating like these walls
papered with cheap roses
last night i found comfort the
only way i know how
in situations like this
beside a girl wearing
a pretty ribbon
twisted around her waist
pomegranate lipstick
wet clay & tragic glitter
smeared across her eyelids
we spent the night
roped together by
half-removed clothing
& my fingers third
knuckle deep
counting the pulse
of the heart
of the universe
while the wild fox
barked on the hill outside
& the mockingbirds
played riffs in the lilac bushes
her ******* ran tight
around her shins &
she sputtered the dark
lyricism of bees
twisting her tongue
backwards around
itself in my ear
our bare bellies
slapped together as
my tongue found her
tooth enamel &
the trees formed
a tight center loop to
harness the sky
for us & i
held my breath
waiting for her
to breathe first
i can feel her chest
& plump **** now
quietly throbbing
against the tight young
flesh of my back but when
i roll over & see her
eyes darting
green like a thin
ocean laser avoiding
my dynamic gaze &
her pouty mouth emitting
a pink yawn i can tell
she's unhappy & ashamed
of me
i tried to run
my fingers through
the butterscotch tumbleweed
of her hair but she just
popped her gum
& sent me
high stepping through
the soft warm mud
& chest high cattails
of her driveway
callow under the clouds
stuck like gnats to
the fly paper sky
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC
"Grow up!" they said.
Time picked up an unwilling passenger,
And headed me down a path,
With no trace of childish fantasies.
My destiny, corrected.
Had I had my way.
Looking all around,
The roped path, present from the start,
Merged with the jungle unnoticed.
Alone and unguarded,
Dark fears come to mind.
My asylum, restored.
Had I had my way.
As time ticks on,
The slow creak of chain tightening join in.
Movement growing ever less.
My presence in ******* unwavering,
Would prove a fated hardship.
My freedom, a constant.
Had I had my way.
The wonders, the sights,
The clowns in the fair.
All morph into gross parodies,
Ridiculous and undignified,
Grown men in suits.
My ignorance, permanent.
Had I had my way.
Raindrops from heaven,
Once a signal for a game.
To sing; drenched and oblivious.
Now best left for the movies,
Where reality has less say.
My actions; unjudged.
Had I had my way.
"Grow up!" they said.
Change is a thief in disguise,
The Path of Fate treacherous.
My maturity; inevitable.
Time had had its way.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 8:23 AM UTC
i am an oxymoron
i can’t breathe in this life
that i’m living
but i still smoke cigarettes
they are the only thing that brings something
barely mimicking calm
to my body
i am an oxymoron
i am exhausted but i can’t sleep
for pain and nightmares
are my constant companions in the dark
i stare at the stars
drawing my own constellations within their brightness
finding shapes and solace
among the old light
i am an oxymoron
i have been whittled down to nothing more
than lean muscle and bone
still i can’t eat
food isn’t tolerated by my body
i eat words for breakfast instead
and spit them back up
roped together in patterns
that are my own sustaining
i am an oxymoron
i am bursting with words
but what i say and what others hear
are nowhere near the same thing
i am a ghost walking among the living
misunderstood and set aside
no one understands my verbal gifts offered up
so i shut my mouth and instead
swallow down everything i am
i am an oxymoron
i have passed from the world in which i belong
into a world where everything looks real
but nothing is as it seems
alice lost without her wonderland
i am alone among the masses
i have become the mad hatter
i am an oxymoron
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 6:57 PM UTC
Don't let your halo become the noose that chokes you.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 9:22 PM UTC
I am cage fights with boys and girls alike
I am splintered hardwood floors
kneeling/crawling/hard working
indoor/outdoor
day/night.
I am balled fists
Open palms
I am Chains and
a footstool timbered from my back.
A rent boy with vices
I am violence/dicord/visceral
Bloodied and mean.
A machine built of sinew
made for binding/unbinding
lashing and flogging
I am a service receptacle
a boy built of honour
of instinctual intellect
of bruises and bandages
i am cut and torn
roped and worn.
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 2:20 AM UTC
The point of no return is one I know well. Many days and nights spent standing on the edge looking over the cliff. Just thinking about how easy it could be to take a dive and not care. Let it all go and be at peace with myself. Just as I started to feel as if the time was right you appear out of no where and give me that glimmer of light. Make me feel like maybe I should take a step back. Reconsider the leap of faith and give it all one more chance. Take another chance at love and allow someone into my heart again. I worry it'll end just like it always does right back here looking down but something is different this time. There is a shimmer in your eye and a fire in your soul that seems familiar to me. It reminds me of a time when I was happy. I've only known you for a few months but I already know you could be my savior. You could be the girl who makes me realize that love really does exist. I love the flame I feel from your heart. Just like a redneck princess you roped my heart and made me feel as if I turned from a frog to a prince with one simple kiss. Just one little kiss but a kiss with a spark I have never felt before. Holding you in my arms I just know that you're the girl I've been waiting for. The one who makes me feel as if I can become a better man. Gives me motivation and hope. I want you, whether I have to wait only a few minutes or if it takes a dozen years, you're the one that I want and the one I will wait for.
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 9:01 PM UTC
I'm having a dozen dreams a night; fluid and lucid.
I prefer this imagination and fantasy in my bed.
It's a lot of fun, also terrifying,
All in black and red...
Deep diving indoor pools with oil rigs and sea monsters.
I butterfly and sidestroke across the unfathomable chlorine waters.
Gliding downstream through swampy, vine-roped forests.
I end up in mangrove lakes, a canopy of bright glowing mushrooms.
Zombie hordes making me hide in closets at my parent's house.
They never break down the door, I don't understand why they carouse.
Being in a place without time, space, colors, physics or floors,
Talking to people I barely know, with no names or faces. Am I bored?
Sitting in my underwear on a dock, waiting for the bus
The others don't even seen me, but the cute girl next to me does.
I learn to fly, jump off a roof, start falling, then forget.
I twitch in my covers from a concrete slab, comical to wake up dead.
Sometimes I just sit in a cave with a reflection of myself
Talking to my ego; arguing and reasoning with nobody else.
Every time I close my eyes and lay my head,
I feel like a mad-hatter, locked in wonderland.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 2:28 PM UTC
Expression.
It’s all in how we look,
How we act.
Society.
Limits our expression,
Shows us what we can and can’t be.
Women.
We are told to be perfect,
Told what to look like and how to act.
Each day, something new is added
whether it is something to be skinnier,
Or something to change our face.
We are roped into a battle,
Being dragged by society's standards.
The words used are like guns.
Each hurtful phrase heard
is like a bullet tearing through the heart.
It hurts to hear society’s views,
Society’s opinions.
What do we follow?
We are told to be ourselves,
But who is that?
Ourselves. Myself. Yourself.
The people we are trying to figure out.
The people who we want to find,
But can’t.
We are pressured and indoctrinated with styles,
With trends,
With things that are “normal.”
Normal.
What is Normal?
Who came up with this silly term?
Normal.
Something everyone is striving to be,
But lose themselves trying to find.
Something everyone longs to be called,
Even if it hurts their reality.
Something everyone is forced into,
With nobody knowing the true outcome.
Weird.
Is what people think when they see people who are not “normal.”
People who do not fit society’s standards,
Society’s expression.
What people don’t see, is the happiness.
The people who you deem “not normal,”
Have found themselves.
Have found who they truly are,
Happiness.
Is what you get when you finally find yourself,
When you can express who you are freely,
Without fear of being hurt, or judged.
Happiness.
Is what you get when everyone is equal,
When everyone was the same rights,
Without loopholes and sly backdoors.
Happiness,
is you.
Who you are.
Not society’s view,
But your own expression.
You.
Who is Free.
Who is Joyful.
You, who is Happy.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 12:01 PM UTC
Insecure, was the sign on your door,
The door was always unlocked
You were quick to answer with every knock
Your back pocket held a mirror,
it is for protection you said.
A faint replication of self worth
Would stare back at you.
On stainless steel
tear stained water spots left paths
tracing back to your regrets
A slice of the world reflected
in the pointed mirror
everything was more burnished,
but inverted.
You used it
to cut through the ****** tension
Between you and your frivolous guests,
with slick, quick witted flirting.
So sharp,
you penetrated through
Leaving a piece of yourself inside their hearts.
No exit wounds.
When you stare at it in your clutch
it points north,
Towards the star that is always there
For you,
that will guide you home
But the magnetic attraction
towards your thirst for drama,
Sidetracks you.
Like a deflecting needle
That is no longer running on its axis
Free will, bouncing thoughtlessly
With the world no longer holding it captive
Not moving in accordance
To what keeps the world balanced,
What a thrill,
You like the way the world looks
So limiting, so manipulative
When it is reflected on the narrow surface
Wrong side up.
You grip the knife, carelessly
Until you overstep the boundary
Of right and wrong
And you trip on the tight roped tension
That you had strewn across
between you and the other side
And you stumble,
your canny dallying discourse
slips away,
hitting hard, landing straight in the back
of the one who loved you
for your innocent eyes
who didn’t come in
through the door with the sign
but instead came in,
through the window of your soul.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
Zara, love of life,
Spake in curtled call
Allfather, lover of light,
To bestow those "ants of the earth"
And arch-bound as the sinew of bowstrings
Howling as the volley hertz roped
Along the celestial violin
Pluck souls from their bodies
In symphonic prediction
Ascende! On the wings of love's Valkyrie-- in her shining eyes will you greet the stars of the Otherworld!
___________________________
Cleaning hide chunks from Buffalo tusks
There is a stranger, who knocks upon my door
The fire is wide and welcoming,
Borea chides the earthenwork
Outside, the stranger calls
distant through the door.
____________________________________
A last heartsong,
The cup overflown with honey
A facsimile of symmetry
And not distinctly human
There was something to love in that,
Just the simple inclusion
Of all the other animus
Being formed in their conclusions
And following the arrowpoint
Floating by the bolt
What losses there to seek
Beyond a veiled humanity
We strike the fire one last time,
She to travel the mountain passes
Ashen eyes, holding viscous memories solidified
I to gather my quills
My thoughts and brush quickly the embers of love.
Into flame, carried deep into the hearts of the world and explored in violent disassociate
Particles red and hot
Then would Zara Spake again,
"with his eyes on the earth, will he never see but the stars."
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 12:42 PM UTC