"routs" poems
Dream after dream and there's a lot,
Please after please until he got up and ran out...
Ever sense that day my feet been free of old routs,
Old shouts and too much of digging except climbing out.
Oh I loved how the chains became my mouth and the dirt was the best way to sleep with dead things that never would speak out.
They blow trees now just get away
Without even running somewhere to make there demons shake,
I have broken the curse and every way of baracade I break like I'm the gate!
Whoever needs to just leave there's always an escape...
I open the door to a new place when I fall down stop what I'm doing and PRAY.
Hope somebody will listen to me....>.>
You can stay here
Runaway
Leave from town
Runaway
You can hold on
Runaway
Stand your ground
Runaway
If you don't take your chances there's no way you'll never know..
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 2:30 AM UTC
Ha ha doesn't do it.
Ha ha can't be it.
Nothing like Nihilism
Enlists the whole lament.
Slack relief in disbelief
mine of God
I just figured
No halo
finished
Time
Next line no using
phones please and no
cursing please think
that's going to ****
off the young,
when all they read
How mellow
Now trees?
So you think getting
pregnant tired driving 40
on the night they drove
old Dixie down it
couldn't rain enough for
me I wanted to see
their Wagonwheel slats
stuck up to their humps
in dreams. It's easy to
get a palm trimming.
actually think they
read anywhere
can write some
One.
At least I have a
************* palm
yes I'm lying
in bed now get some
sleep it's who
they all say you're *******
my recording girl
you took my
only lighter.
Because
what God
touts God
Routs and tryouts
buy shouts
yet still
Doubts if
She is really out.
Ha ha! Nihilists won't expound.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 6:28 AM UTC
Sirens, ballads of anguish are singing, ears are ringing,
Our nightingale is shrieking, and children are clinging.
Our Kalyna is red, but wrapped in blood now, not love,
From the massacres aeroplanes bring from far above.
My uncle, enters the now upside-down house of his,
“Welcome”, with a phoney grin, and wariness he says.
The house holding memories is now clogged rubble,
In the land that shall never greet occupiers or trouble.
His daughter's dreams shattered, for the reverie of filth,
It matters not; the nation of his deserves blood spilth,
We deserve not peace, but the delusions of a hag pass,
May he rest in peace, along with the delusion he has.
My mother may never hear the raindrops fall again;
Missiles seal ears with noise, and the death of men.
The men, women and children, who will lead us all,
Through scorched fields with whispers old and small.
She is a hairdresser, she might braid hair for the fun,
But other mothers, braid the hairs of daughters gone,
They keep them safe under a pillow where they smell,
The warmth of days before the dictator's missiles fell.
Red and black are the only colours they pervaded here,
They wish for our colours to diminish and spring adhere,
But beauty routs the devil of ugliness and his conceit;
Our colours saturate our resistance, painting your defeat.
They shall not sprout in our fields, like poisonous herbs,
They "rescue" us, but the gunshots my brother disturbs,
We did one day exchange our dreams for a pistol facing -
Facing the bear who is destruction, within embracing.
Blood accumulated in heaps on the sleeves of killers,
Like a marvel detested in a chapter of stained thrillers.
But thriller this is not, it is lives of the innocent lost;
He plays chess in reality, after a coin he has tossed.
Mothers, daughters, sons and fathers are everyday slain,
but spring soars today, prevails tomorrow - in Ukraine.
Apr 23, 2022
Apr 23, 2022 at 10:06 AM UTC
Farouche people cast lethal ephemeralities, they are skittish howitzers' foreseeing
Tamper and muck around with us
Proceed please, gain potency
Address prowess, then once you've coward in a corner, strain to flee
Michka was languid sáwol (OE)
The bullied ******* not teeming by any means
Always a vexed mind, full of pillage grim
Every day the same prediction
Once the bruises turned healing yellow, they'd regain their blue gray
He walked the plank and served the steak
He dilapidated himself in vile rain
Gained no aplomb confidence
Only verbal abuse that strayed persistent
Only mental and physical wounds surfaced
Strolling down the broken sidewalk of crumbled concrete
A noticement of condemned buildings
6235 Mirnerva LN
Visions he had entering, visions he had slaying
Of the civil and socialble
Torture to the dependable
He walked inside to leaks and floor holes
Ancient 1920 furniture and stoves
More than one stove that could hold coal
To burn bodies of evidence made him feel like gold
He had a place of his own
He mirrored himself as a transfixing carver
Despersing of the bully fools
No more drubbing routs' after school
Dec 9, 2010
Dec 9, 2010 at 6:38 AM UTC
1431
poems in ye old inbox,
genteel knocking,
whispering thru stolid front door
love me a little lot,
little lot, love me?
this is not mere work product,
collegial-laid upon me for gentle shared, for pre-review,
Nottingham Forest arrowed, bow shaped
pithy comments,
these are the holy-of-the-holies
attention-me-crystal-cries,
prayers, wry observations, nature collations,
me and thee adorations, heart rendering
screams of need,
these are the moments in your life
raw-roughened gifted or threaded smooth cursed,
but tendered unto my caring.
(an aside:
perhaps you understand better now
why woman-in-the-moon imagery,
red bowed, grapefruit tasting hearts,
all the lovelies, word shape shifts a/k/a
Imagery
language delights!
but time-using, confusingly confuses,
and has been erased from my own poetry frame)
gnawing doubt me routs,
god gave me humans,
and gave them speech,
to bring me
closer to him
thru them.
somewhere in those 1431 essays of labor,
dashed off, handcrafted, pithy or poor,
just might be the one
justification for my opening my eyes
this poetry someday Sunday sun-day.
put the cofe on
(saving letters, saving time,
deleting unnecessary e's
from my life till when I am dying on
all-on-that desperate
e-n-ee-dy day).
loaded my shotgun heart with
loves and likes,
yellow thunderbolt bullets firing,
and considered yourself
notified
I'm a-coming over,
shoes on the cofe table,
breaking taboo's
gonna read 1431
and when dining done,
gonna pay attention to my muse,
my woman, cause she is the
original e,
that provides the raw materials,
in ye old nat-box,
that lets me love ever one of them,
she is the e
in me
and me will be in you,
starting now.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 6:57 AM UTC
Away from home in academia
*** philosophy and religion
I’ve been skeptic about all these years
revels of hell in lost memories
couldn’t be a new dialect for spring
turn **** with refreshing ******
I still wander in my mind with fire
but no heat or light, sterile emotion
routs the spirit to live making
all presences dark and absence
fears are no bread from heaven
nor unfilled emptiness any sky
yet the eagle flies with wide eyes
nose opened to stinking patches
the mud- and ghostscapes that yield
mandate for dreams wrapped in nightmares:
I live preying for liberation
and decay with divinity
--R.K.Singh
Nov 18, 2011
Nov 18, 2011 at 5:57 AM UTC
Seem so easy to call you savior...
Not close enough to call you God.
Open field of crushed flowers,
She goes and picks for Daddy's hands are never wired..
...to the "sweet life of California's cheerleader anthems.
Good kush and alcohol the best song she's done since she's the captain of her own life.
What's right if Gods people ain't tight like skinny jeans she wore that night ?!
Burning questions and she puts it out by people's opinions.
Old routs start to show as she gets close to answers..
"Seem so easy to call you savior,not close enough to call you God."
But...one day she will trust him and learn how to see him,
Someday he will call her and she will come runnin and fall in his arms and the tears will fall down and she will pray:
"I want to fall in love with you".
Seem so hard to hold my faith here,
But Close enough to see he's right..
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 2:08 AM UTC
We walk in straight lines
expecting to see nothing new
but narrow.
We think in straight lines also,
believing in spirituality as
up.
If you watch her crooked dog
travel
he will wag and curve in
reason.
He will show
such a leaf
on the ground
and bock at the burrowing owl
- still burrowing.
Their owners are called 'owners'
and we'll pull their curved routs straight!
I guess this all makes sense, really
considering the
*****
is straight
as well,
and we are animals of power
after all.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 11:20 PM UTC
The streets were filled with people;
Hustling, jostling, synchronised
scooting like a school of fish
humming excitedly, civilised.
A sudden surge of noise,
cacophonous shouts
Water Of Life springs forth
amidst the fractious routs.
I see the crown of his head;
He is loveliness and light,
and though I try to get to him,
I stumble and fall amidst the fight.
And I, a grain on the threshing floor
am trampled under foot
these years of pain and suffering
have not made me splinter-proof, but
I know that He can save me,
heal my body, mind and soul
I reach to touch the hem of His garment
and instantly I am whole.
He stops and asks “who touched my clothing?”
My entire being begins to shake,
with empty legs I kneel before Him,
I confess that my thirst, He slake.
His eyes burned into mine,
filled with love I have never known before
and with one breath He blew the chaf
and gathered me from the threshing floor.
Jul 14, 2025
Jul 14, 2025 at 11:42 AM UTC
Siren wails
One stranger about to take his final breath
Eyes gazing at familiar faces
Piercing through souls
Melancholia reverberates
I can’t save him…
Raising flags
Amid the morning dew
Inquisitive minds of the youth
Along the misty garden of roses
Wisdom routs ignorance
I can’t teach them…
Pompous buildings rise
Along the busy traffic of the north
Breathtaking visions realized
Through pens and grids
Gasping folks looking up and passing by
I can’t build them…
Splattered blood
In the streets of darkness
One innocent life forsaken
One fatherless son
Can justice be given?
I can’t defend him…
Who am I?
Why am I here?
What does living mean?
Is life naturally chaotic? Empty?
A whirlwind of doubts
Blocked the future they envisioned
I couldn’t save him.
I couldn’t teach them.
I couldn’t build them.
I couldn’t defend him.
This life swims in the pool of regrets
Where this aimless mind drowns in oblivion
And there in the midst of nothingness,
I found myself...
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 10:20 AM UTC
....
Heart, calmed for time being by Mind and hidden into box of rest and dimensionality of Earth. It has hidden it's fire of Love, closed by lock of rationality and smartness of body.
The less fire burns in Heart, the less it wants to look out into window and spectate life.
But all of sudden it sees familiar shape, or there was a glimpse of flower, same flower which someone gave to you, familiar sounds of favorite melody, which you were listening, when you were in Love, or...
And roused Heart, and forget all those, what Mind been teaching in numberless repetitions and orders. That Mind, that build the wall from pain and suffering, to divide Heart, to divide dreams, to divide Love. It has build tall fence from pain, and forbid to look into sky full of stars, and listen to SKY.
But the spark, fleshed by memory of Love, broke chains of Mind, and burned them down in a moment. Pierced straight into heart, awakening feelings and desires. And now, fading fire of Love in it erupted with new strength and brightness, taking all wishes and dreams along to the Sky.
Awaken heart from sleep, lulled by Mind. It's mighty bright fire got ignited again, which burned down all reasons and proofs. Burned down in a moment, all rational paths, and all calculated by Mind route, of Life path, which was build by pragmatic Mind.
It has forgotten of promised convenience and comfort of preplanned routs, forgot and doesn't want to recall, Earthly life comforts. It took off to Sky, illuminating by it's fire World around, and stars began to illuminate the Heart and fill up with Hope.
It doesn't want to ride in a train of life, convenient and comfortable, with certain beginning and end. It wishes to be free, in it's Love and live, to burn, to wish, to love. And freely fly in vast space of life
It filled up with fire, warmth, Love. Doesn't want quietly die in a train of life, where there is no Love fire, and desire to Live. It doesn't want to choke without Love, as a spectator looking into window of life without it.
It wishes to stand still, suffer, take off with Happiness, and land down with Sadness. It wishes to fill with tears of Love, but love in a way to enjoy these Sadness, these Life, these deepness of it's Love. To raise up to Sky, high to the stars, where stars will be filled by it's Sadness. Which will cause Shooting Stars illumination of vast space of Sky.
For it, important, the process, filled with deepness, with sensitive bliss, fulfilling elevation. Cause for it, for alive Heart, this is Life, way, path and meaning, that place, where it heads, entangled to it Soul, filled with desire that Heart. It wants to be free, dream, and fly and LIVE!
....
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 4:51 AM UTC
Its time, tick tick monster
and me like a lazy pigeon
There're worries inside outside
and me like who's care
Its fear, everywhere
and me like no where
There're hurries up to date
and me like out of date
Its fate, controlling me
and me like out of control
There're doubts polluting mind
and me like I'm determined
Its late, in every hove
and me like still in move
There're routs facing silence
and only me with hue and cry
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 7:27 AM UTC
Lock myself in the music.
Hope my fears can't see this.
Man my mind so clueless!
When It comes to this I'm Dangerous...
...is it Bad that...
I lost the key,
I love this place,
I eat my dreams.
I know the top is the bottom
And the bottom is the top.
To stop my legs from wondering,
I cut some old routs off my block.
Just to get threw the thundering,
I played with twinks in woodstock.
But now is it Bad that this is why i keep the door locked?
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 3:25 AM UTC
Heart enforced by power of Soul, cause Heart is connected to it, gets warmth of Soul through Love. Pure Love. Without expectations. Love fulfills it with strength which lifts up above Earth to fill up with spiritual desires.
Sometimes, Heart is trying to explain to Mind,
What attracts it to these or that human, situation, animal,
Any other object or activity...
Why it get hooked by these or that situation, why it want to do particular things.
But not always, it is able to translate to Mind language, something that doesn't fit to it's dimension, something that doesn't belong to Earth believes or laws. It's hard to push in to shape of Earth something, that much greater, deeper, brighter filled by Cosmic Universe power.
If these shape was not stretched by Love.
If these shape doesn't want to change and grow, preferring old rules and dimensions, not always it happen to tell with words, how your Heart feels, how feels Heart of another person. It's hard to convey by words movement of Soul.
Sometimes, Heart lacking those Earthly words and expressions, which could explain, why it get still when you meet someone, whom Mind wouldn't ever choose. Why it's attracted towards him or her so hard, while trying to forget of it by Mind.
Why it doesn't want to listen to all sound reasons, and beats, and feels in it's own way. Why it is attracted somewhere where Mind has no power.
It, these Heart, like, lives by it's own laws and doesn't want to bend to practicality and rationality of Earth, doesn't want to settle in safe place somewhere in warm box of bricks and woods. But all the time eager to go high to the sky, clouds and stars, to get some warmth there, through it's dreams and feelings.
Mind constantly trying to teach Heart, which step by step, point by point, explains WHAT you have to love, HOW you should feel and ABOUT WHAT you have to dream.
He, Earthly Mind, is extremely practical and doesn't want to loose energy which it can direct to it's benefit in present space of Earth. It builds plans and routs, selects right words and expressions, paints comfortable conditions for Soul livelihood, and tries to pack all Her feelings in strict order, shelf by shelf.
For some time, Heart gets quite, it calms and agrees with it, comfortable for body and life reasoning of Mind. Soul takes seat and listens to all reasons, sheepishly agreeing with all it says. Then it goes hiding deep inside, getting quite in sadness.
And even, Soul tries to settle in seat of steadily moving train, and observe in window, how life is passing by.. Without any move, without any expression, diligently following all rules and regulations of Mind.
The train of life is going straight, Mind drives it. Heart with it's Love, seats quite and looks into window, how life flows behind it, steadily and intense. It seats quite, rarely shudder with any interest, simply observing what happens behind window, of it's life.
....
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 1:17 AM UTC
At the blue hour
the victorious night
routs the retreating day
Jun 9, 2025
Jun 9, 2025 at 1:13 PM UTC
Lo! Behold the morning with such beauteous delight.
See diaphanous filaments bestrewn with beads of dew,
sparkling their display of every shade of prismatic hue,
exalting the spider’s art, woven throughout the night!
Lo! See the wraiths of mist, slowly rising from the river bed,
whilst apparent rootless reeds, seen on either bank,
stand like ephemeral ghosts! The air though heavy and dank
becomes alive with a myriad of creatures. For the night has fled!
Lo! Hear the clear crystal sounds which bid the new day awaken.
The crowing **** the raucous cawing crow, the mourning dove,
all borne upon the breeze, which routs reluctant clouds above.
Once again with the breaking dawn perceived, darkness is overtaken!
Lo! Give thanks for the wakening of sleeping souls once more,
for having survived the unknown perils of the past night.
Arising to witness another day graced by Dawn’s early light,
we are aware that the awaiting day invites us to come; explore!
Rhymer. June 27th, 2018.
Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 6:47 AM UTC