"scatted" poems
He turns his head and watches the Sunset in the west.
The last of the days light broken up into rays and beams by clouds and mountains.
The dust has settled.
The moon has risen.
And the stars glisten.
A days end embezzled by men and women who
take the nights breath away for their own pleasures.
How they forsake each other without understanding that we really do love one another.
For love is not bound by words and action but by the silent meddling of the heart
where it's only interference is the reality that we are forced to succumb to;
the real world.
The world of men and women
stealing days for the sake ideas.
Burning the nights up with incandescent glows and unnatural woes.
A world of wants and desires never met
but always sought after.
How we detest ourselves.
How we loath each other;
forgetting that it's not so bad.
It's really not so bad.
We are all lost children yearning for affection.
Mothers praying for their sons and daughters.
Soldiers in the heat of battle.
Ships lost at sea.
The hapless smiles on orphaned boys and girls in a big empty vast universe.
But the Sun still rises to the east,
and his head will turn again to greet broken Sunbeams and scatted light.
The birds will chirp.
The cars will start.
And we'll steal the day again.
All together now.
All alone.
Dec 29, 2011
Dec 29, 2011 at 3:19 PM UTC
Let me tell you of who I killed
Just to maintain the order inside this tower
A petty and dark person once lurked
At the deepest and darkest corner of my core
Uhm, I mean the tower's core
That petty and dark person,
shall we call her as depression
Tried to climb at the top of the tower
and attempted to break the order
She bounded my heart.. I mean the core with chains
Wants to climb on top, embed my brains
with thought of self infliction and suicide
She really wants to see someone die
and oh yes she did
because yes she died
I killed her
Coz no one can mess with the tower's order
And the story goes like this
I have then ordered for the order of nights to **** her
once she gets on top and touches the border
her life would soon be over
But she was a fighter, I admit
Several knights have fallen to a defeat
Cast down to an eternal pit
of negativity that she submits
Confidence, Self-worth, Joy
are few of the heroes that have first fallen
Followed by logic, intelligence, pride and sense
Until little by little she was winning
The top of the tower she was conquering
then the tower was slowly changing
cue in isolation and self condemnation
But oh boy
when she thought she had finally won
when she thought the war was finally over
Awakens my last remaining fighter
that was once in a slumber
the last remaining member of the knights order
and she is up to bring back the tower's lost order!
Shall I call this knight HOPE
small and fragile as she seems,
but boy she was so dope
Everytime depression knocks her down
HOPE would break and scatter all around
But dont get me wrong, hope was not losing
coz this is her type of fighting
and by this she was actually winning
Her scatted pieces that trailed every corner
Shone brightly even at the pits of negativity
The light became a guide
A path that let out her comrades from the pit
Now everything in the tower was shining
Even the petty and dark depression was submitting
For darkness can never win over light
Thus mark depression's era as over
I killed her
or I may have not
maybe she will be back
but let me tell her this
Let me tell you this
I have a great fighter
and once she is still alive
It will never be over
I will keep fighting whoever want to take over my tower
Coz if the light of hope is still there
my life, I will never let it be over
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 12:39 PM UTC
The fridge droned between the sound
of her impaired footsteps across
the 600 grit linoleum floor. She ran
my palms against the cave-like walls.
Eroded paint bubbling like balloons
before bursting, flattening beneath
her touch. She felt the key rack
with more keys than a piano store,
cork board with porcupine thumbtacks,
and the thin edge of the Disney calendar
beside the light switch. Patting the blood
off on her pant leg, she flipped the switch.
With her sleeve, she brushed crushed Oreos
from the table and sat. Scatted about
the stained mahogany was a few National
ENQUIRER subscription cards, used napkins,
and an overdue bank notice. Sliding the chair
back, she sulked to the switch and flipped it
back.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
The weekend was great the time away was brill, I hired me a cowboy builder to make me something durable.
I turned on the lights to see such a mess with only half made structures and an old feather bed.
I looked up and up and saw I was down a roof. So I orded one a new. A big clear dome to be set up on top.
Stepping around dodging dirt, earth and such. What a lovely site to see it just scatted as such. The rains had been bad, hitting long, hard and fast but lucky for me as my pond was now topped.
I looked around and thought ''hey this place would look good if I set up a ball'' , so out came my disco set, lights. Whistles and bells galore.
As I looked ever closer I spotted thier was nests, bugs, creepy crawly things all manner of other beings living in, out and around my house.
But now my place looked good all it needed was friends, so out went the call for fun times for all. So it started with one, then two and before we knew it was brimming with tons
I woke up in bed all bruised and sore. Thinking ''what a night that was'' then I sat up and swore as I imagined the bill.
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 6:39 PM UTC
A knight of honour, thought and brimming with lore. Three lives he lives no life at all.
Flaws he as, no ceiling thou, walls abound to direct or ensnare.
Yet plenty stop, shame they only stare.
Awaiting calls from distant shores to find the peace hes striven for to travel the world to see a fresh to kindle renewal.
Families split torn for apart shorn in twain and scatted far, new lines added all raised in praise to come togeather in song to hearth, heaven and hearth.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 7:00 PM UTC
****** off and get a coffee, leave me in my chair
alone to watch the waves and bones
and the fractured wind-washed water stones
a canvas canute, imperious I command the tide,
go back I say, come forth no more,
I speak therefore you must abide
and stand astride as the rushing waters flee my hand
retreating from the scatted margin land
they fear my wrath, and plot amongst themselves in bubbled froth
regrouped replenished forces gather forth to rush and overtake my seat
wet and bloodied but unbowed I hold my ground and kick my soaking feet
neither of us is willing to admit defeat
Jun 30, 2024
Jun 30, 2024 at 3:06 PM UTC
What if I told you
That when the going gets tough
You don't have to give up?
No **** Sherlock!
What if I told you
That you can hold onto something you care about?
Something that makes you crack a smile.
Cracked like dried skin
But all you do is brush it off
Because that is what makes you all sealed up.
Your x's give you a reason to lock up your house.
You shut the blinds to your beautiful mind and write poetry.
Well you keep writing poetry
Because that is way hot
Hotter than my skin temperature when I asked you on a date.
I feel for you pretty hard.
Hard like the diamonds that are scatted in your irises.
They glisten in the sun with your delicate hair
Getting in my mouth?
Baby I don't wanna have my way with you.
I wanna gain your trust
We would start with trust falls
Then move up to whispering in your ear
"There is a hair on your ****
I wanna know what peeves you off
And where you are ticklish.
I wanna laugh our lives away
I wanna hold your hips
Under the street lights that scattered downtown and say,
"I kind of like you miss, is it just me or am I ******* crazy."
Our ability to be spontaneous makes us feel alive.
I know how easy it is to give up
But the simple act isn't so fun.
I know you are going to hate this
But I’m not going anywhere
I’m not giving up like all of the ghosts surrounding your heart.
I'm going to be that one guy
That will picket outside your house
So you can open those blinds
And come outside
Now let’s kick back, relax
And let’s find out.
How on earth did you get those diamonds in your eyes?
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
Beneath infertile fields,
where the breath seeping
beyond view would suffocate
the life of mans impoverished
wondering.
Curiosity was a misconception
what was submerged was
not as above. For eggs lay dormant
feeding on the impoverished fumes.
Like lullabies grazing upon it
slumbering.
But local folk were wiser upon the
land, greeting the field from afar.
For what was legend was fact instead.
When the earth did breath with rumbling
discontent they knew the land was ready
to birth new life from fields of purgatory.
Majestic wings flew from afar,
and villagers gazed at
this beauty of imagining, as bones
scatted like seed over a field of infertile
hallucinations.
But where some dreams die, one awakens.
As the earth heaves like a womb being
awoken by birth, so seeps the blood of
the earth, alight in a concussion of vivid
hues of fire and life,
graced by eyes afar.
Flame danced around this new birth,
as it inhaled the flame, expelling
a fountain of new born breath.
And the villagers cheered, the new born
looked, but the mother knew that there was
nothing to fear for this place was safe.
A tradition of old, letting those who dare
wonder, treasure hunters, armies had tried
to collect the bounty of this land, for with
birth comes riches from deep in the earth.
But the villagers had the wealth of
seeing this every few hundred years.
But the dragon always paid its debt,
as wings of frail flight learned the
dynamics of wind and wings.
A hand gestured to the well, and falling
a bountiful harvest of gem stones.
like a rainbow finding its place of birth,
so many filled the sky with there descent.
And then as before and times long ago.
with eyes adjusted to not gaze on the
field, a mother does neatly once again
hide her worth beneath the earth.
So long from now a new child will
see the happiness of a mother on infertile earth.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC
A litter of potpourri petals scatted along my 10:00am floor. They lost their vibrancy and sense of worth almost as fast as i did.
Yet every now and then a new bud will bloom, crisp and curled edges followed by a
bright and deeply coloured centre. This beauty surrounded by a dark dirt wouldn't be
complete without a tiny bug or two, and those minuscule pests are somehow my
favourite feature.
Or was it her?
Blonde with a bad haircut she can't quite grow out, yet she is
still always progressing. I only wish to shower her in nosegay and tell her all will be okay.
Though she will never believe me, not until she allows a certain someone a seat at the table and
confronts them for what they are. She will glare with glowing eyes and ask every
question that deserves to be answered.
She can't yet say goodbye. But one day she will.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 9:25 PM UTC
i used to make since
i used to have a plan
until the world blew up
and scatted dreams across the land
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 7:54 AM UTC
INT - JULIAS' HOUSE - THE BLANK ROOM - AUTUMN EVENING
Pick teeth in maw
shuttering ;
I imagine you
Minotaur
You mail me voices
you unmend each night
I clothe the window
but you are brighter
you fill
I replenished your alter
re-burdened the sill
new meats from the Butcher
it's quite an arrangement
for a carnival such as yourself
A fortunes soil of gutting
it's the best I'm willing to offer
a meal
a wealth
so here it is
a tilt to your health
I back out of the room
I close the light
blackout
CUT TO :
ANOTHER DAY - WORLD AT PLIGHT
I dress up my morning
and enter the room
a tiding,
a horror,
a vacuum !
You have scatted and cast
and made gore of my gift ;
made rent and wipings of the curtains
made leavings off of an ill stomach
What can I give you ?
how much more ?
how may I appease you
my Minotaur ?
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC
After struggling to accept my insomina, I realised that there was no point in forcing my sleep and so I just laid there in dark staring at the ceiling awaiting, my sleep.
As the seconds go by I submerge deeper and deeper into my thoughts
Kinda like meditation, with scatted emtions and memories
Like seeds on an open field.
This rapid thinking eventually lead to a feeling of reminiscence
Envying the feeling of having a clear mind, wanting to have some sort of control over sufficating thoughts and emotions which contribute to my ever rising anxiety. Missing the uncontrolable yet comfortbale feeling of drowsiness that indicates that my sleep is near
After going through a sea of emotions, I tire myself out and hear muffled sounds of birds chirping and dogs barking, signs of a new day arriving.
And that's when I start to lose control, slowly but surely. My mind is now at ease and I am at peace with my demons, my movements became timid my heavy eyes were shut. And "finally"
I whispered. I fell asleep.
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 8:55 PM UTC
scatted, broken
fixed, open
erase, write over,
speak out, unspoken,
sing, im heard,
write, read
Language
Dec 12, 2012
Dec 12, 2012 at 9:30 PM UTC