"satisfactions" poems
Today I accidentally saw a preview of; The News;
a disabled sixteen-year-old girl, a victim of abuse
god
The accused is a priest. A round man in a long black cassock
And a snip view from mass of another priest plays shortly
My face turns green as my mood turns blue
He says he has a holy feeling, that the accusations aren’t true.
A cult; /kʌlt/ noun
‘a system of religious veneration and devotion directed towards a particular figure or object.’
We show our devotion, we kneel and give thanks
He applies lotion, looks at a child and wanks.
god
Everyone is entitled to their beliefs, and to the respect of those beliefs.
My belief is that no human is superior to another human.
A priest is only a man.
And this man in the long black cassock had a plan.
And this child will remain terrorized forever.
People should be held accountable for their actions.
Women’s lives are not to be of similar value to male satisfactions.
An article on ‘The year of ‘Times Up’ and ‘Me Too’ movements has been a dangerous year for men.’
Every year from the beginning of time has been a dangerous year for a woman.
Innocent men are not in danger.
I was sexualized and assaulted at the age of eleven. #MeToo
I wasn’t wearing a short skirt. I wasn’t drunk. I wasn’t provocative.
I was playing chase.
For years after that game of chase
I had nightmares featuring his face
This is not your place to say this year is dangerous, for men.
Times Up
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
She's a selfish lover, armed with stunning beauty.
She hunts joyfully for an innocent & caring heart,
She wants to satisfy her longing spirit.
Self validation by conquered hearts.
Conquests, like trophies on a night stand.
Each victory validated by a wounded spirit.
Her potent satisfactions soon dwindles.
Repeated victories, must be obtained.
Scores of bleeding hearts form rivers of tears.
Each conquest screaming from nearby roof tops.
Her Reputation becomes known by many.
The walking wounded,
They protect their dulled spirit
With raised eyebrows and gently shaking heads,
With muffled voices they warn, she is trouble waiting to happen.
I have been bitten by her kind of love.
The sting lingers in my heart,
The scars noticeable in my spirit & in my eyes.
I have her disease now.
My heart longs for love.
Not for Revenge!
But, for recovery and for self validation!
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 5:19 PM UTC
”against your will were you created,
against your will were you born,
against your will do you live,
against your will will you die, and
against your will will you stand in judgment before the
King of kings, the Holy One, blessed be He.”
Rabbi Elazar HaKappar (C.170 - C.200 CE)
(Ha Kappar: the one who made and gave atonement)
<§>
***in these, the years of my erosive declination,
when the noble prize, time for introspection,
once was a chore of delaying, now no longer can be off-put,
the certainties of Elazar, offer guidable satisfactions***
***the nighttime review, resurrecting my life, the gaps,
the untaken actions, those dream-schemes speak loudest,
memories of what should have been, are a litany of what ifs,
prosecutorial accusations of crass wastage***
***against my will, the charges brought,
against my will, plead guiltily my innocence,
against my will, knowingly, time’s erasure judgment,
secures my fate, all the granular cells causal dissipation***
***my warped willingness to be a coward,
it was my meditative, to natural be the lesser man,
choosing the safety premise, the road most oft trod,
the addition of my meager totality, willing given***
Even if all these land mine/roadblocks
and summary judgements are against my will,
willingly do I confess, in all innocence, my guilt,
“if it be my will”
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 2:45 PM UTC
majestic adjectives
of contrary harmonies,
adverbs in adversity
that modify our satisfactions,
gut punch our eyes,
scramble the taste buds,
now inoperable,
incapacitated to distinguish
what is disturbed -
what is sweet -
what is impossible.
my days ending is
nearer to my god than thee,
the crumblings of
what I’ve got left
stale panko crumbs,
here come they in
1000 radium-tipped
projectiles of
serious humorous
self-destruction,
gifted to you!
my few
itinerant followers
peddlers brave enough
to offer shelter,
to follow me
into the deeps of
radioactive incomprehension,
of no particular disorders
a thousand times
bless you
richly, eachly,
name announced, pronounced,
we are all proper nouns.*
Jun 12, 2020
Jun 12, 2020 at 5:29 PM UTC
As
Boundaries
Create
Distance
Egos
Fluctuate,
Giving
Hollow
Insecurities
Justification,
Killing
Likely
Manifestations,
Nullifying
Our
Purest
Qualities,
Reducing
Satisfactions
That
Usually
Vary,
Welcoming
Xenial
Yin-yang
Zealously
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 10:43 AM UTC
She's a selfish lover, armed with stunning beauty.
She hunts joyfully for an innocent & caring heart,
She wants to satisfy her longing spirit.
Self validation by conquered hearts.
Conquests, like trophies on a night stand.
Each victory validated by a wounded spirit.
Her potent satisfactions soon dwindles.
Repeated victories, must be obtained.
Scores of bleeding hearts form rivers of tears.
Each conquest screaming from nearby roof tops.
Her Reputation becomes known by many.
The walking wounded,
They protect their dulled spirit
With raised eyebrows and gently shaking heads,
With muffled voices they warn, she is trouble waiting to happen.
I have been bitten by her kind of love.
The sting lingers in my heart,
The scars noticeable in my spirit & in my eyes.
I have her disease now.
My heart longs for love.
Not for Revenge!
But, for recovery and for self validation!
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 11:39 AM UTC
to her thighs....
my taste buds
so eager to say hi,
if I was asked to describe
I'd say just look
outside, Around the
time... when the moon
was destined to hide and
air conditioners kidnapped
the space windows and their
sills used to collide
While i strive, tongue
kicks a lure for her
sweet surprise.... That
collapse in time mimics
the anticipation of a
hydrant's refreshing
jolt when it's hot outside
her satisfactions
introduction feeds me
the thrill of that last
day of school during
dismissal time, freedom
for what seems like forever
it's two month limit always
fled past your mind
When she divides
and reveals the treasures
her structure was built
to hide... My taste buds
reunite with the flavors
of summertime
taste like summertime
© 2014 viewtifulink
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 7:45 AM UTC
Pass a stranger
Nod a polite hello
Choke on the smell of
Cigarette smoke
Blooming all around
Hold breath till
It's passed
Release and gasp
Fresh new air
But he wasn't the only smoker
Around here
You can get cancer from
Second-hand smoke, you know?
I'm convince we'll all
Die of cancer anyways
Cancer of the body or
Cancer of the heart
Something eating away
All of us and we can't
Self-diagnose the chaos
Looking for something
In all the wrong places
Surface level satisfactions
Nicotine and addictions
Rotting away the soul
And we're all dying of
Some cancer
Cancer of the soul
Looking for answers
Failing to look past ourselves
For Something
Someone
To ease the pain
Satisfy the ache of soul
Clean up a world where
No one smokes
Their souls into
Oblivion
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 1:52 AM UTC
From a very early age we start to form some wrinkles in our mind
with all of those impressions we gather in life of an unusual kind.
It's those things we think, believe, say and do as we live and grow
that form the basis of our problems of which maturity does show.
Especially all of those wrong thoughts, beliefs, words and actions
indulged in that cause or bring about much of our dis-satisfactions.
Very often we don't really know or understand what's for own good
and hold onto those things that we need to let go of which we could.
We all become attached to certain things that so form our behaviour
which can cause all those problems we seek help for from a saviour.
Whether it's to do with some physical, emotional or mental distress
we often wonder how we find ourselves to be in such a current mess.
Too much of a good thing that seems to be alright for a period of time
may only start the ball rolling towards an unlikely or unhealthy clime.
And as we tend to give in to so many temptations each and every day
our mind develops wrinkles that over time come to plague us and stay.
We're all usually born with what is known as a clean slate of a mind
that's gradually filled up by things as we live, grow and learn we find;
particularly with regard to the circumstances that come with our birth
and family situations through our parents on this planet called Earth.
There are also things that come to us unexpectedly as we all live
which may cause various problems and even some setbacks give.
But it's really how we handle and cope with what life throws at us
and take advantage of any opportunities that will result in our plus.
The wrinkles in the mind which may form during the course of life
have the hidden or likely potential to cause someone a lot of strife.
Especially when they're formed in the mind of one at an early age
and aren't smoothed out by the one concerned at some later stage.
They resemble the grooves on a vinyl recording that are played with
a record player's needle passing over them producing the sound pith
of recorded music or song that have been damaged by some means
playing the same part over repeatedly and its progress contravenes.
______________________
Aug 13, 2019
Aug 13, 2019 at 2:15 AM UTC
I've peered inside what my heart hides in It's cage now
I know that I've made many mistakes for my age, how?
I'm addicted to the touch, to the ****** and the sweat
Darling,
Moan
Would you still love me through all of my regret?
If I let you hold me close, if to you my heart I gave
Would you trust that you're the one I love?
Could I be the the one you want laid on top of your grave?
If I let you kiss my scars and let you occupy my heart
Would you accept the hurt and despair?
Love my soul, and mend all of my broken parts
Pleasure me when that vicious urge for a ****** lingers in my air
I've done some things for pleasure
I've done things to please
wet eyes
"Please, don't ignore me when I'm down on my knees!"
If you knew what it meant, If you knew how I feel
I'm here for you, I'm giving myself..
That deep stinging pain inside is real
Look me in the eye, hold my cheek
Kiss me hard because your knees are weak
And when I swallow both our satisfactions,
Do not question where I learned my actions
There is a past behind me,
I'ts pawing at my memories strands
Help me forget them
Help me warm my cold hands..
Tell me it doesn't matter,
That you have me now and that I'm enough
You want me forever, for me you are tough
When someone disrespects me, will you be there to set them straight
Defend my honor, even my curious past
Fight my battles with me, vow to me that we have a love that will last
Love me even though I think you never could
Give me a love you think I deserve, and for once dear God, let it be a love that is kind, encouraging, and understood.
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
They say that love blinds you;
That once you find “the one,”
They will be the only ones you see,
Whether it’s in a crowded room of familiar faces and strangers you’ve never met before
Or in a city with emotionless people wandering through the streets attempting to find their souls-
It’ll always be just the two of you.
Love hides all the darkness in the world,
All the evil and corruption going on around you,
But it also blinds you from seeing the truth.
You see, when you’re in love with someone,
You do whatever it takes to stay in love with that person.
You forget their flaws,
Erase all their mistakes and scars from their bodies.
You block out what others say about your relationship,
Becoming deaf to all the doubts and reprimanding of the adults that “know better.”
When you’re in love, you want to stay in love.
You want it to be just the two of you in this entirely chaotic world.
See, love makes a person blind.
It makes you walk through the Labyrinth without Ariadne’s ball of string to guide you.
It blindfolds you and refuses to hold your hand and direct you to the end.
It makes you want to do stupid things,
And it makes you want to jump off a cliff.
When you’re crazy and irrevocably in love,
You’ll go psychotic trying to make the other person happy.
You crave for their happiness so much that you forget to focus on your satisfactions.
But what happens if you’re so far in love that you’ve become accustomed to tunnel vision even when you’re far out of love?
You see, I know this girl.
She loves the idea of being in love.
She loves all the romance and the sweetness and all the attention when it comes to being in love.
She loves loving others so much that she forgot to love herself.
She’s so caught up in this idea that she almost forgot to get her head out of the clouds and place her feet on the earth for a minute.
See, I don’t believe in perfect.
There’s always something in this world that will corrupt beauty
And being close to perfect is never enough for society.
We’ve all been brought up in a universe of false hopes and harsh realities,
But we still crave for perfection,
We still want perfect.
She wants a perfect boy and a perfect life,
And it’s nice to know that someone out there is still dreaming and believing in the goodness of the world,
But deep in our veins, we know this dream is unreachable,
And I think it’s time for all of us to keep our feet on the ground and not let our heads get too caught up in the moment,
But we all know that might never happen either.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 6:15 PM UTC
I want to swim up by your side
Between the sheets, through the tide
Warm my toes and take me under
Through depths and air bubbles we plunder
Your skin has a flavor, but do me a favor
Avoid all the retrospections
Focus on simple satisfactions
Your nose crinkles when you stifle a yawn
The longest hour is right before the dawn
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 1:55 AM UTC
Woke up with children in my mind, wrote two new,
then stumbled on this...
I give this poem to an orchestra leader I know, who understands better than most, that conducting and being surrounded by many, is oft the loneliest task and who knows best the meaning of
"finally, all synchronized in time and space, on a single continuum, within, without and through."
Thanksgiving Day 2011
Through
the picture window,
watching
restless generations,
multitudinous compilations,
children's backyard runnings,
all about, hide n' seek,
uncoordinated coordination,
well calculated randomness,
perfection in its
discombobulation
Within
my bloodstream,
chemical changes,
blow thru my veins,
direction home,
like leaves,
on a November weekend,
windswept from a thousand directions,
endless energy, noise, and commotion,
results of internal tremblings,
the side effects of satisfactions,
in ways I could only dream of...
Without
knowing, nonetheless,
the knowledge rests within,
footage of future days of
quietude and satisfaction,
recalling earlier simplicities,
records recorded somehow
before it happens,
records recorded now and then,
but only for
future consumption.
Harmonies of times,
well deserved,
to be future spent,
now, finally, all synchronized
in time and space,
on a single continuum,
within, without and through.
They say that Einstein erred,
time cannot outrace gravity,
therefore it cannot be
that I have seen the future.
Yet, I know with
unerring certainty,
these truths
posses the gravity,
that thanks,
I have and
will again,
gave,
and will give
The remainders,
the children,
the net of our gains and losses,
within them,
my thanks lives,
without them,
I am lessened,
through them,
I am whole,
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 7:04 AM UTC
I am your mamak kinda girl,
roti telur, roti planta,
banjir, sambal lebih.
I am your HS Cafe kinda girl,
nasi putih makan,
ayam goreng, kuah campur,
sayur, kentang,
nescafe ais bungkus.
I am your warong kinda girl,
nasi goreng kampung,
telur goyang.
I am your Kelisa manual kinda girl,
anything that moves is fine,
as long as we get there in one piece is good.
But I am also your, "how are you?" kinda girl,
where I expect you to tell me stories,
share insights,
and discuss your day.
I am also your, "random question..." kinda girl,
where I expect thoughts and opinions,
discussions and deep conversations.
I am also your, "tahu tak..." kinda girl,
where I want to tell you my thoughts and opinions,
for us to discuss further in our deeper conversations.
Because I am more than just "that kinda girl".
I am more than an introduction,
or rising action,
I am the ****** to your tale and
I expect a falling action,
which eventually leads to our resolution.
I am a simple girl with simple satisfactions,
but I only have one motivation,
I cannot tolerate mediocrity when it comes to ideas and solutions.
I expect love, power, and compassion,
because it is with you that I expect my conclusion,
which will eventually lead to our next destination,
a new exposition.
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 2:34 PM UTC
As answers timidly move in the light
Question of morality I ask of myself more frequently
Is my eagerness to abstain from activities of others truly virtuous?
Or, am I merely lost in translation and its is really selfishness I practice rather than virtue?
Am I hypocritical as I go forth preaching to those who revel in shadow?
Am I unknowingly crowning myself king?
Creating yet another man made god?
Yet I am reassured
My inadequacies demonstrate to me my powerless words
No, I am no self proclaimed god
No accidental hierarchy
No dictatorial government
Day by day I do not and can not offer anything
I do not tempt with visions of pleasure
All I do, all I give, all I open for public viewing is just this,
A smile
In hope that through ample, but temporary satisfactions
Man has not lost his ability to empathize
Feel my happiness
See it through nothing but my smile
Created through loving truly
Acknowledging the small things
And simply, living
Here.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 10:58 AM UTC
Upon the beaten path I walked
and though I tired still I walked
upon a glittering stone I came
and I stopped in my palm It lay
upon my gaze It shone
but in my heart reach it did not
upon the beaten path it fell
and still on I walked
upon a young woman I came
her eyes, upon me, she looked
a flutter Within I felt
and in my arms I wished she lay
But upon my heavy tongue my words stopped
and upon me ceased look did she
so upon the beaten path I walked
my tears slowly following me
tired a grew of this beaten path i knew
upon my tired frame exhaustion came
and down I went to Sit
Upon my beating heart relief came
and with it a wash my memory came
Of a time where on this long road I did not walk
and upon my relaxed heart came grief
brief my rest was and up I stood
and upon my beaten path I walked
my past barely understood
upon an old well I came
Parched my throat had become
so away from my beaten path I strayed
my journey temporarily delayed
upon the water did the light shimmer beside lay a bucket
upon it I wished to drink so down the bucket want to sink
up it came with satisfactions wink
upon my lips did I drink
and upon my mind was I releaved
But upon the bottom lay a snake
Its poison within the water it slyly lay
upon the road did I go
blissful in what I did not know
upon my eyes the darkness came
sluggish my legs began to feel
and upon my mind worry came
as upon the path my body fell
Rasping came my breath labored came my air
But upon the ground i began to see
all that had been around me
upon the scenery came beauty
And upon my heart did it reach
upon the road had I stayed when all around me I could have played
upon the second when the reaper called
I cursed not the path I took
for upon the moment of my death
at last I came to my peace
upon the goal of the path did I clearly see
For without the beaten path beauty waiting in the scenery would I have missed entirely
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 11:32 PM UTC
Try men's souls. Provocative mind-whip how you soothe me. I scorn modern poetry...not because it is truly bad or truly good. It just makes me feel as if my pores are ever-expanding with clicking, skittering, masses of insects.
Black shiny minuscule monstrosity.
Beautiful in gritty grotesque.
A lamb lights upon the searing dark-light torch...kill them all with glee
No pity or remorse towards humans humanity human nature,
we are disgusting creatures until I cease thinking about us.
Then we are interesting and subject to more discovering and journeying.
Take the child and expose it to everything at once; it shrivels and mumbles distant screams of flaming cliches combined with a burning shot of plasmatic soul searching. How would we approve of such?
Inside the black brown shriveled parchment child-casing: The other children are ignorant. My crooked cracked being shivers disgustingly. I hate them instantly. Not hate. A rigid viscous feeling. Rip apart the sublime ape. She-he in all splendid obsession. Strive, then, no more to ape the emblems of the spirit that was, but evoke anew that spirit in modern life.
I, we trust none. Drama drama dramatic dramatically dramatical in all appearances, but truly flat-line non expressionist.
I love only once.
Burn them and their wicked kindness.
I will soothe my satisfactions and live love only once.
My Muse is the riptide chainsaw hackslash terror of our generation. Reveling in the natural ones. The rocks scrape phrases up of graves and trees wickle waveringly with pleadings of insane sleeps.
How beautiful is nature. That it can reduce us to nothing at all and raise us upon our grandest delusions.
I love to despise of women's voices. Androgyny is revelation worthy. Epiphany causing in romanticism.
I love to desire my emotional and mental consumption.
she is grandeur made flesh
epiphany constituted within reach
glorious
******** you sweet, sweet ********
this soul will rest
not mine, not ours
it will take rest and tendril itself through all
love commissions such things
what ****** soul
She I Cannot Resist
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 4:24 PM UTC
today I have come full circle around
in perversity and nuances
ask why if you are curious
my ****** thrills have been shown
too much on the internet
quickly finding
and watching so much
I got numb
I sought seeked sorted out some madness
in satisfactions
came up with one thing
that is hard to find
on google even when
incognito
I get a cheap thrill
knowing I am the only one
that gets off
on gnomes.
You can call me odd or off or
psychotic or deranged.
My neighbor who had ten
gnomes
and now five
calls me a thief.
May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 1:09 AM UTC
1
I say I'm a designer of systems, plans
Man's
Parts that stand together, set in place to serve
Trees and planets, too, which are unplanned by us
The observant, wise man
Tries to understand
Name the parts, pistil and stamen
Rocks, eskars
Elements.
Winter is shuddering to an end, mud roads
Cardinal pairs
Robin flocks return that will soon pair off
Buds
Soils swell
Will I live to smell it again, learn the lobelias
Understand and name the parts
It ought to be a great comfort to be so insignificant
Go among weeds, a wind
Thinking to myself
One's never alone
A dichotomous key is needed, a book of twigs and fruits
Accumulated over time and generations
Without it mine would be a blank mind
To be blank but knowledgeable
Without any machinery
In a perfect silence
That is the definition of death for which we have only to wait
But in my panic last night I thought death's inert
Grace requires consciousness
Hold on long to the senses
At least a century, maybe more
A boy hanging upside down from a fence at sunset, counting
clouds
2
Now we go to our daily practice
And chosen disciplines
Sustained by the satisfactions of being good men among our
fellow men
Women
Choosing to do this and not that
With the finite days allotted us that at first seemed like a lot
They're now few
But the chickadee's life to the chick and the cankerworm
moth's to the worm
Seem as long to them as ours to us
What question am I asking today
By now, past half a century, I should have chosen a discipline
And been satisfied
To be a war president one must have war
May you live in interesting times - wish or curse?
Squirrels, high in oaks,
Fiber, fat and protein in acorns
Strong runners, leapers, climbers
Should stay off the roads which some cannot avoid being
where they're born
Natural selection is occurring
Those that look for machinery in motion
Hesitate or don't as needed before crossing
Live in larger numbers than those whose modus operandi's
Guessing
The ravens eat the fur and guts of bad guesses off the roads
I impose my own small order
Having chosen mountains over plains or shore
Go to my daily discipline
And estimate the motions of the seas and stars
Measuring my satisfactions by my children's satisfactions
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 7:38 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
texting you at three in the morning when I need you,
Touching you like kissing the rain when I feel you,
you could turn a flower to gold with your finger tips,
Touching you like kissing the rain,
I feel pain,
Just a little in my lower abdomen,
You can not shy away from me,
Or the truth,
Or the lies,
Or the deceit,
When you cry,
One day I'll die,
Knowing you cared for me,
I was here before,
Drying my own eyes,
With a matching suit,
And matches to light my owe fire,
More of a thought than an action,
When the cameras are rolling,
I gave a slight reaction,
Uncontrollable satisfactions,
Violent outbursts to a dark past,
So when you me in the hall you better hal ***
Been punked out my whole life,
With an unborn kiss from my mothers heart,
Its complete ******** so I don't need to brag,
With the life situations and countless rumors,
I swear to god I need a heart attack,
But enough about me,
How is your mom , i know she talked about me,
Probably saying how well you'd do without me,
I was born to **** up,
Its not a secret anymore......
its an anatomy,
I said I would love you no matter the cost,
And I ******* that up,
Feelings drowning in a dead pool,
Sometimes I need to finish,
But I'm searching for a soulmate not a witness,
I just need some more clarity,
Would just help me out this hole,
No friends were there for me,
Play me like trading cards and leave me out in the cold,
Angry gestures won't get you by,
Wishing and hoping that the silver spoons die,
Die out and then never divide,
Like roaches they scatter around,
But so quick to provide,
You drive in a ******* porche while I take the bus,
Your money , you better hide,
So while I'm going on about that,
I'm reminiscing the good times that I spent with you,
All the nights you probably asleep,
Thinking about me in your dreams,
I'll just be ............
...texting you at three in the morning when I need you,
Touching you like kissing the rain when I feel you,
you could turn a flower to gold with your finger tips.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
preface.
majestic adjectives of contrary harmonies,
adverbs in adversity that modify our satisfactions,
gut punch our eyes, scramble the taste buds,
now inoperable, incapacitated to distinguish
what is disturbed - what is sweet - what is impossible.
my days ending is nearer to my god than thee,
the crumblings of what I’ve got left,
stale panko crumbs,
here come they in 1000 radium-tipped projectiles of
serious humorous self-destruction,
gifted to you few itinerant followers
brave enough to follow me into the deeps of
radioactive incomprehension,
in no particular disorders
a thousand times
Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 12:16 PM UTC
truth is impartial to realities.
a human condition set
to diverge honorable practicality
to serve one's comfortfor selfish satisfactions.
yes, a liar is unbranched,
rooted in tasted knowledge
and is self-absorbed,
subject contradicted,
by one's mindmerely fooling
the present.the problem, the dynamic of fact and fiction.
a friction that has perpetuated personal attention
to realize that human intentions are reciprocal
;in protection from the truth within us
with the weakness we try not to expose.
Jan 23, 2010
Jan 23, 2010 at 10:48 AM UTC
When we were small,
Our parents want us to talk.
When we can talk,
Our parents want us to walk.
Today when we are walking,
We could feel the breeze.
Walk by the road, there's no peace exist.
When we could feel and see,
The world is all about pain.
That's time we realize that people only act like "saint".
When our parents dead,
We could feel the "bang".
Along by the pain,
They attack us like dark shadow fang.
There's no doubt without doubting,
There's no satisfactions without trying,
And there's no pains without causing.
We kept drowning by the "dark" pleasure,
Because the "dark" pleasure is more pleasure
While the slave praise "them" and forget their sins,
All the poor people keep stitching and defending.
Today, I barely can enjoy the rain.
Yes I hope I can turn back time and become kids again,
Too much shadow and pains I received today,
Most of it from the one i believed nowadays.
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 10:21 PM UTC
a poetic darkness clings to
the edges of the room
ageless in its mental aberration
all the years of its incessant whispering softly the sounds
of a life forsaken to a hunt for
all the things that can never be prized possession
all the things that forever slip through seeking fingers....
my face demonized in the mirror
unchanged except by the years
still holds the taint and taste of her words
like a thick oily poison slowly seeping
from the soil of my eye
where such lovely dreams once grew
now only a parody of silhouette dark upon a shadow
the void form of a man against the cloudless gray sky
an emperor's tongue speaks regal
but the words spoken fall like black leaves from a black tree
dead and devoid of all aspects of a beautiful fall day
an emperor's tongue lavishly paints visions of such beauty to come
but like the footprints in newly fallen snow they are
doomed to fade in the sun
little lies constructed to tell the willing girl
that her satisfactions lay not in the mirror
but in the pit of some man's soul
in the vile places of lust and longing
her love to become a void form against the grandeur of starlight
her plans for the wedding now only faded ink written by a child
my face demonized in the mirror
I seek to choke out the words that would spell an end
to this mournful song
seek to extinguish the doubts and rages that haunt that image
I am the one who has made this face in the mirror
carved it out of the stone in my heart
I am the one who sees its ***** lines its twisted fable
my hand slips to the light switch and
turns off the forever eating at my soul
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 8:52 PM UTC