"safeguard" poems
Though the first carried more miles, the second day of the hike was totally and unapologetically uphill.
When you ascend, hiking becomes the zen of endurance.
First, you are stripped of all the pleasures of hiking. Your excitement is boiled into lactic acid. Your love for the trail is baked, hardened and dehydrated into thoughts of laying down in the sun until the heat shrivels you into an unconscious raisin.
Try as you may to put on your “isn’t hiking just a slice of heaven?” face, strangers passing you on the downhill stride can only see your “PLEASE GOD, HELP ME OR ******* **** ME” face.
As much as hiking really is a small slice of heaven, there is no denying the living-death of taking 10 straight miles to the knees under the chaffing hell of a 50 pound sack in the relentless sun.
But when you’re back in an office, sitting on your cushy little ergonomic chair, you long for the sweat and the torture that forces your mind to the ankle deathtraps of mountain terrain. To the deep valley behind and below you, and the crystal basin at the foot of the granite Giants.
The worst thing you can do is ignore the pain—that makes it relentless. Instead you focus on the pain until you become it. The only thing left is the moment between each step, when you remember why you are here and what it is worth. Every time your foot touches dirt, it leaves twice the footprint. One on the mountain and another in your memory where you will safeguard the misery of your ascent and hold on for dear life. One day, when your knees are too weak and your body can no longer table your pack, all the pleasures and joys of the trail that you once thought dissipated in the steam of uphill toil will come rushing back with the magnified strength of every year between you and the present you once knew and respected enough to actually live.
And if you didn’t, if you let it only be pain to get through and not to focus or dwell on, then that is what it is and will always be. A dull memory of pain, dark and somber and incomplete.
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 2:41 PM UTC
When we think about the choices in our lives
When we fight and we bicker and become bitter
When we think there is only power or powerlessness
If we can realize that there is power and powerlessness
Then haven't we began to acquire consciousness
In that instance haven't we began the process of choice
That there is those who have not have given birth to this consciousness
To those who have only lived powerlessness
And know nothing else
Haven't you owed them part of your consciousness
That you have ceased to be one of them
Or your mere power has denied one of them
That there is no choice for them
Because they haven't birthed that consciousness
And if you choose power they'll remain powerless
Because within you there is no loyalty, right?
It is a choice predicated by an erroneous concept of self-preservation
It is a treacherous dichotomy; doesn't make sense
This is not an indictment of your desire not to suffer
Because surely to hold power would cease your suffering
But it is this type of power that thrives on the proliferation of powerlessness
This conceptual understanding of what it means to have power
That is not what we've come learn, but readily ascribe to
That a mind and body can cultivate power
That can be harvested, shared, communal
For the sole purpose of the survival of the other, not the self
That that can survive in this world is impossible
Its antithetical to the modes of production
In which our societies operate and thrive
How can workers begin to derive power from their collective efforts
How can workers' purchasing power equal the power of the production of their labor
How can any community in any corner of the world escape
The misanthropic missions of first world free trade capitalism
When will we reclaim our escaping humanity
When will we cease to keep feeding the system with our minds, our bodies, our labor
How much longer can we become fodder, scraps, waste feeding the machine
And don't think that you are safe when you have made it
When you have entered the circle of dominance
Because it is then when you will loose your humanity or die
It is at that apex of power that your presence becomes
Just as dispensable as that of the powerless
Because to maintain that circle of dominance
Requires a total conversion to misanthropy
The rigor with which your power will be required
To keep proliferating powerlessness will give no break
And when you become useless, it will replace you
So that we must realize that the modes of production
That we allow to exploit us
In powerlessness, or the semblance of power
Can never safeguard our humanity
How much further will we allow power to be concentrated
So that soon we ourselves, or our children won't have a choice
Won't have the consciousness of power just powerlessness
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 9:49 PM UTC
If only we could begin again and slow down the pernicious pace
We ruin our oceans, the land, our air even outer space.
If only we avoided such precarious paths that may lead to disparity
If only we knew what action is needed now, to deal with the reality.
Ecologists warned, yet still observe with ever-growing anxiety
the growth of harmful long-term effects on Earth's biodiversity.
If only the air wasn't gravely polluted, so the atmosphere begins to fail,
so wreathed by carbon dioxide layers, extremes to climate may prevail.
If only Earth's lungs cease being shrunk by profits heedless exploitation,
existing relationships are considered scarcely in these aberrations.
If only a solution for discarded synthetics which float in ugly hordes
on oceans global drifts, disaster occurs wherever it reaches landfall.
If only we can do something, a belated but resounding universal call,
If only we can safeguard the future before there are no options at all.
If only we could begin again and slow the ruinous pace... if only
If Only
M C Crowder
@scorsby
19th November 2018
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 12:00 PM UTC
Hear ye my statute, men of Attica--
Ye who of bloodshed judge this primal cause;
Yea, and in future age shall Aegeus's host
Revere this court of jurors. This the hill
Of Ares, seat of Amazons, their tent,
What time 'gainst Theseus, breathing hate, they came,
Waging fierce battle, and their towers upreared,
A counter-fortress to Acropolis;--
To Ares they did sacrifice, and hence
This rock is titled Areopagus.
Here then shall sacred Awe, to Fear allied,
By day and night my lieges hold from wrong,
Save if themselves do innovate my laws,
If thou with mud, or influx base, bedim
The sparkling water, nought thou'lt find to drink.
Nor Anarchy, nor Tyrant's lawless rule
Commend I to my people's reverence;--
Nor let them banish from their city Fear;
For who 'mong men, uncurbed by fear, is just?
Thus holding Awe in seemly reverence,
A bulwark for your State shall ye possess,
A safeguard to protect your city walls,
Such as no mortals otherwhere can boast,
Neither in Scythia, nor in Pelops's realm.
Behold! This Court august, untouched by bribes,
Sharp to avenge, wakeful for those who sleep,
Establish I, a bulwark to this land.
This charge, extending to all future time,
I give my lieges. Meet it as ye rise,
Assume the pebbles, and decide the cause,
Your oath revering. All hath now been said.
3.6k
I exist in the space between worlds,
never truly a citizen
of any one of them, just
a wanderer passing though, looking
for a home
I will never find.
I live in the gray that
separates night from day,
weaving and bending my existence
to blend into the background.
I am the static you despise,
forgotten in the silence between heartbeats,
stalking the shadows
of your imagination.
I am the fog that bridges the gaps
between realities,
formless and boneless, I
smother the void between the light and the dark
so you need not fear the sight
of the abyss.
But, I warn you,
be careful in your step
for I only obscure the in-between to
safeguard your sanity.
I cannot keep you from falling
into the fate I have become.
Though I grow weary of this listless journey.
I am but a ghost
stitching together the worlds
of the living
and the dead.
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 11:27 PM UTC
Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee;
And was the safeguard of the west: the worth
Of Venice did not fall below her birth,
Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty.
She was a maiden City, bright and free;
No guile seduced, no force could violate;
And, when she took unto herself a Mate,
She must espouse the everlasting Sea.
And what if she had seen those glories fade,
Those titles vanish, and that strength decay;
Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid
When her long life hath reached its final day:
Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade
Of that which once was great is passed away.
2.7k
.
To whom it may concern.
To anyone who remembers me.
I bet you thought I was dead,
hidden in this house of lunacy.
You had me brought here,
so this letter to you I pen.
This place is cold and sterile,
I can't wait to be free again.
Was it for my own safety?
Or was it to safeguard yours?
I cannot recall the problem now,
my mind is stuck on pause.
They fill me up with pills,
keep my head in narcotic haze.
I have a soft and secure room
to smile away the days.
It will be good to see your faces
when they finally let me home.
I wish one of you would write,
or call me on the telephone.
Why do you never come and visit
The Moontouched man so mad?
I'm sorry you saw my melt-down,
sorry it made You feel that bad?
I hope you will read this letter,
the pen and paper I had to borrow.
But the drugs are starting to work,
I'm so drowsy now...
... I'll finish this tomorrow...
© Pagan Paul (2017/18)
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 7:35 PM UTC
It's cold down here,
the white cushions and blankets do nothing
to safeguard my withering body
from Earth's cold claws.
Remember when we used to sit in Summer's sun?
Ankle deep in baked sand
as the waves lulled us.
Remember how you held my hand the first time?
Side by side, we sat on that empty beach
our hands absentmindedly digging towards the core.
It wasn't until I was distant that I felt your fingers,
timid at first,
then coiling like a grape vine 'round a fence.
You remember, don't you?
It hasn't been too long?
You told me,
in that raining back alley,
that you wouldn't let me go.
You told me,
as I held your hand like a lifeline,
that I was going to be okay.
I kept listening,
through the rain and your tears,
for the sound of running footsteps
and the clinking of money in my purse as he ran.
Did you catch him?
Will he never hurt anyone again?
Please tell me,
so that I may feel some warmth in eternity.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
Inside my body feels like chaos.
There seems to be no sense to what is happening.
I am aware on a conscious level that something is going on inside my mind and soul,
but I cannot access it.
It's as if the things that torment me are lurking in the dark,
purposefully causing me pain,
luring me into the darkness,
tempting me with the idea that discovery is possible,
all the while knowing that they will not reveal themselves to me.
Rather they slowly ****** me into their realm of darkness
and begin to trick my mind that the darkness is the only truth that exists.
Darkness is a strange thing really.
On the surface it doesn’t seem very appealing.
It is something that holds fear and danger
and torments many people when presented in an external explicit way.
When presented in an internal way,
this fear and danger does not,
however,
seem to send off the same kind of alarm bells that one would normally hear.
It would, in fact, appear as if the mind is somewhat
intrigued
by the shadows within itself
that drift around like smoke in a breeze.
It is as if this intrigue
is enough to safeguard against the potentially sinister depths of a tormented soul.
I am not immune from this
as I too find myself perpetually drawn into the dark crevices of my mind.
I can only hope
that my fragile heart
remembers that it was not always shattered by darkness
– but rather
that it is held together by the Light that exists at the core of my divinely given being.
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
Why do I safeguard around words that don't satisfy
It has no meaning to even exist in such a one set mind world you can't even ask to be relevant it's a shame that realism is wasted in the pretenders but those who have streamed in the main often suffer less
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 2:39 AM UTC
My killed love for you
I will inject
micro amounts into my heart
whenever I'm about to let someone in
to safeguard against ever
becoming sick like that again.
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
You ignored me all day
Which was reasonable, (what am I even saying)
Considering I'm nothing but
Awful.
Anyway it was your birthday
Why should it matter
Because I know I bother you
I just threw up, again
Its just
Because I'm so hurt
And it hurts so much
What you're doing, what you've done
I feel so worthless
I feel so dead
You were the love of my life
You still are...
Home is any place with you
And I can't have you
I feel lost
Like I'm not at home
When I'm not with you
I'm nervous, again
Its just
My heart, mind, and soul are so frail
I miss your heart
I miss your mind
I miss your soul and
Your soul, it really touched me; you became my soul mate...
And I'm not okay
I don't think I ever will be
Without you, you see...
This is not a game when I say
I can't get over you
I won't learn how
It's so horrible what you did to me, the way you ditched me...
Both good and bad,
I remember the last time we kissed,
I whispered,
"You have no idea what you do to me" because
You are both my highest highs
And my lowest lows
And I've never been lower in my life...
...than where I am now
And sometimes I plead to God
If he's real, to
"Take me home"...to "take me to heaven"...
But...but heaven is a place on Earth...
And home is when I shelter in you...
I...
I don't know what to say anymore...you gave me so much security...
...but you left me for dead
And now you're here, again, somewhat
But you put yourself exactly where you are...
Put yourself with her...
Somewhat as a safeguard...
So you wouldn't be tricked by my games...(this is not a game)
To come back, or as you put it, how you "just can't go back"
But
I...
I...
I've never been lower
I've never been lower than where I am now
God...
I want to die...
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 2:12 AM UTC
A ghost has touched my fingertips
they ache, they shake with fear
Into my feet it flows
and gets hold of me,
grows
This is no joke, love
we should run
before it is too late or before-
what is that?
you shake your head, you're not afraid?
Then I will run alone,
as I use to;
as it has shown to be
my safeguard system
not for me, my love:
for you.
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 5:20 PM UTC
I'll keep you in my sight
with this lonely light I hold aloft.
I'll ward away the dark and fright;
I'll safeguard when your soul is lost.
I'll keep you from harm within my arms
that circle round your shaking form.
No need for tears or wide eyed alarm;
My arms will shield you from the storm.
I don't mind sharing this lonely cross,
whose bearer's face looked so forlorn,
Let me safeguard those tearful eyes so lost.
My arms will shield you from the storm.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 9:52 PM UTC
i'm scared
because i'm
falling in love
with you
but i don't know
if you're going to
safeguard my heart
and i don't know
if i could make u
stay forever
oh god,
i really wish
for u to be my
girl for the rest
of my life.
Nov 23, 2020
Nov 23, 2020 at 2:39 AM UTC
A small, quiet, happy 2 year-old;
With brown hair, and bright eyes.
Looks out the window, from the safety of his mother's car;
To the city, and the big blue sky.
The giant tall, frightening monsters;
Of buildings, that serve their owners as protectors, their knights;
In shining armour. Clad in the strongest of stone.
Only a small glimpse through the crack in between the towering structures;
Of the bright-blue sky, and the fluffy, inviting clouds.
Who shield the boy from the rain.
Lastly, he sees the people, going up and down the streets.
Some are heroes, having a secret identity only themselves know.
The boy has so many questions, he wonders about the world,
He imagines, because he doesn't know any better.
He thinks she is a beautiful place, he smiles
At all the wonders the world holds.
14 years pass, and he does the same again.
The knights have lost their armour in the heat of battle, as well as their morale.
They can no longer safeguard.
The skies are grey. The clouds merely channel the rain.
The superheroes have been defeated. Ashamed by their loss, they will never save the day again.
He wishes he could see the world like he once did.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 2:56 PM UTC
word by word,
i strengthen the walls of
the immense fortress i've
build to safeguard myself as
moment by moment,
i begin to
unravel.
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
It is not a game of Hide and Seek
rather it should be considered at peak
Yesterday those were secular
today have become rightists
Amazing game is Indian polity
Having not any type of quality
Representative of more than thousand millions
have no any party loyalty
What role do you expect to play
from such members of parliament
Who change their loyalty
Every party promises laptop,cycle and cash type temporary toffee
But don't have firm plan to curb
unemployment, inflation and corruption seen in abundant quantity
Voters are helpless in selection of right candidates
Where there is self-interests clearly visible to their daily updates
It is for great indian voters to
learn them right lessons
To safeguard indian democracy
and Indian polity
Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 8:38 AM UTC
I sit alone in this park that I’ve known for so long, and listen to bird’s songs, in the hopes my mind will grow tranquil and clam.
I await words to write, to relieve some strife, seeking merely a sliver of a slice of peace of mind. But time comes to a halt, as ghosts with a waltz, dance through my head causing dread, harboring memories from when I was young.
Still naïve and oblivious of the strenuous afflictions to come.
With thoughts collected, I reminisce these recollections, of when the world was filled with bliss, and wish that life was still like this.
When every day is an adventure to be treasured and joy is never severed, I’m care free because responsibility does not exist, within, my limited vocabulary yet.
Each day is met with set structures from a structured home, where mom and dad, still pretend they’re glad, which means I have no reason to be sad. And so, I still don’t know, what it’s like to feel alone, in a broken failing home.
Normalcy becomes conformity, complacently but blatantly forming a shell of apathy.
Because now dad yells, and the children’s eyes swell, with tears of fear, my mom’s with sheer, determination to captain this ship, stubbornly sit, amidst, these waves of irritation mixed with infidelity.
I found myself stuck in a storm, totally torn, as my joy is worn consistently down. I clown around to be sound, but a permanent frown, is brazenly embroidered into my broodingly breaking soul.
Time flew by ignored my cries to slow, and so my consciousness consented its blissfulness to turn to bitterness, my brokenness was all that I knew, and soon, it was all I could show.
Although now I’m older, still too often I smolder with rage, and both shoulders have boulders, for chips but I’ll fight fate, abate my hate, to keep my future family safe.
Safe from the games my parents played to hide their shame, of a marriage disparaged by barriers, bolstered with a selfish taint. I will sufficiently and selflessly safeguard my wife from treachery. To not neglectfully or carelessly, lead her into insanity. For bride and seed, I will succeed, to do everything my parents failed to do for me.
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 12:35 AM UTC
She's awake, eyes wide,
Gazing at everything that surrounds her.
Ugly? Someone apprised her no.
Loving is the cue to everything beautiful.
Skin deep is nothing. They are just words.
Magnificent is nothing,
And nothing is unlovely,
When you see the world in gray,
You fail to remeber,
There's an other side.
From sad to happy,
He made her, unknowingly.
He showed her,
People can be inimical,
She said she is aware.
Then what was that he did,
To make her all so beaming?
I guess we'll never know.
It's a tale of two seeds,
Who were growing into trees.
When one was about to die,
The angel came to relief.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 2:47 AM UTC
*
Be on safeguard, be alert and be vigilant,
Be Careful against the yeast of the drinks!
Whatever is enclosed up will be revealed,
anything undisclosed will be acknowledged,
Also, whatever you have whispered in dark
will be over heard in the daytime,
and whatever you have alleged
will be later shouted out from the hills top
Whatever unseen, not even once,
will have to be believed after a while !
*
BY
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
[email protected]
www.williamsji.com
www.moonmakers.com
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 12:05 AM UTC
Oh beloved Hyacinth, my sparkling youth so fine
More brilliant than all objects that shine
Fit for erecting a sacrificial shrine
Let my whole self be only thine
Harken all of you to Apollo’s Serenade for Hyacinth!
Oh citizens of Sparta, offer me your finest *****
In my arms his amorous body will never shrink
Never will he be placed on peril’s brink
His glorious soul under my care will never stink
Harken all of you to Apollo’s Serenade for Hyacinth!
Oh beloved Hyacinth, you will learn a lot in my guidance
For any man of the arts, this is the greatest chance
In music & sports, you’ll surely enhance
You can have the future the power to glance
Harken all of you to Apollo’s Serenade for Hyacinth!
Oh gods & goddesses, behold Hyacinth evolve better
His charming countenance will turn brighter
His adorable assemblage will go stronger
If you give him to me and no other
Harken all of you to Apollo’s Serenade for Hyacinth!
Oh beloved Hyacinth, in my lap you’ll have the greatest nourishment
I will keep you away from any predicament
My healing powers will safeguard you from ailment
Never will your body & soul be in torment
Harken all of you to Apollo’s Serenade for Hyacinth!
Oh mortals & immortals, you will never regret
Hyacinth will flourish if you make me your bet
From me so many he’ll know & get
To you I’ll unveil his being’s greatest secret!
-02/12/2015
(Dumarao)
*Hopelessly Immortal Collection
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 9:54 PM UTC
You made us bleed.
Bleed from a place deep within us. Where it does not appear as a light red, or even crimson.
But a dark scarlet.
Darker than the void you so carelessly cast us in.
You left us with nothing but the company of the Solitude, who recites our failures to us with each nightfall like songs of victory.
Our only food was the shattered promises that you left behind with your departure, as they shred our tongue which spoke only words of affection and adoration to you.
Our only drink was the burning passion we once used to keep you warm during your cold isolation, which has now festered and rotted, tasting only of boiling venom now.
Yet despite this diet of agony and woe, we cannot help but love you.
But you do not reciprocate these feelings which we hold, you merely mocked them by filling our ears with fantasies and false assurances.
So we have grown tentative.
We have forged a fortress from the flesh of the fetid Solitude, to safeguard that which you have left in fine fragments.
From its bones we have constructed monolithic walls and barriers.
From its soul we have crafted chains and blades, to stave off those who would seek to destroy what is left of it.
We have assured ourselves that none shall have safe passage within, unless we so willed.
And yet when you return after months of silence with nothing more than your beautiful sapphire eyes, and your lips curled into a gentle smile, you have shaken the very foundation of our fortress.
Even the sight of your very name causes the whispers of the Solitude to echo in its halls.
We do not know what has brought you back to our tormented path, but know that it will not be as welcoming as it once was.
There will not be any words of gentleness or amour as before, but rather a single, bitter phrase.
En garde.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 2:20 AM UTC
I am a turtle
And I don't much mind the darts of the adversary
I collect them after they bounce off this shell
Make Lincoln log homes out of them
And pretend that I live somewhere else and can come and go as I please
I'm not a 30 year old boy who sits in his mother's basement playing video games
But I don't feel that I've quite grown up yet
Don't feel that I've quite moved out yet
Why is that
Why is this sandbag heart sitting alone in a warehouse with nothing to safeguard, nothing to protect
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 3:08 PM UTC
I yearn for love, but cannot give it
The pain inflicted on me is destined to come again
My heart lacks in passion
Body deprived of pleasure
And mind in fear of relapse
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 12:06 AM UTC