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wesley mcmillon Jan 2016
You feel like you're ripping at the seams.
You feel like all the scary stuff
That you hid
behind those shattered glass eyes
will spill endlessly onto the floor,
make you a laughing stock,
And
Be the reason you must become a recluse.
This my dear,
Is in fact,
Untrue.
Behind the seams
You are no monster to be cast,
in a closet,
Under the bed,
Under the stairs,
In the attic
Or
In some makeshift storage space.
No
No
Behind those seams
Is a beautiful mosaic
Of the beer bottles you've shattered
Of the mirrors you've cursed to shards
Of the glasses you've cast to the floor
Behind the seams is nothing to be hidden away.
You are art.
You are;
the most beautiful,
The most intricate
The most complex
The most awe inspiring
Piece ever put together.
Yes,
Blood was shed to get you here.
Sure,
Sometimes when I try and help
To place your glass
I get cut on your sharp edges.
I do not regret taking my blood
Mixing it with your love
And
Guiding you to decide
To decide to pull the fabric,
hiding your beauty,
away
I'll be here holding seam cutters
to hand you.
I'll save a spot
Atop the mountains
In every studio
On every city street
In every single home
To display your heart.
You may feel broken
You may feel shattered
You may feel that you're worthless
But in every piece of you
that you think is meaningless
I will show you
You don't need to be who you were
To be something beautiful.
For my beloved moonflower.
You are not alone and you're not in anyway unfit for the dazzling of the world you exist in. Head to toe, heart to soul I love you. It's late and I'm taking you in as you sleep. Goodnight.
SøułSurvivør Sep 2015
---

i

blue grey clouds
of crushed
velvet

sunlight
tears
the
seams


ii

embers of
delicate peach
ignite flames
of fuchsia

the orb of
sun burns colors
away to ashes

blown into floes
of white
mare's
tails


iii

tiny bird
settles restless
on the
highest
branch

flits
away


iv

wind
through
the weathered stones
cries then whispers

luring
the children
who lie within our ribs
to break free
and sing
songs
of
play


v

mamalaria
cactus
wears her
wreath
of
pale
lavender
flowers

sings to
her babes
clustered
below

saguaro
listens



soulsurvivor
(C) 9/13/2015
beautiful day rises up
out of the ashes
of a flaming
sunrise

---

To a special friend...
... thank you!
pixels Feb 2013
my seams are ripping

but the needle is too heavy
and i am out of thread

my seams are ripping

i am far too tired
to sew myself back together again

my seams are ripping

*saveme
st64 Jul 2013
hard skin of life to penetrate
soften that piercing stare

1.
seems a shot spiked with kindness does the trick
that’s how we button up the moon’s sides with silver thread
to keep its seams from splitting solemn sides
and spilling all its jolly secrets: whorls of fingerprints sinking *steadily
into luna-grooves
like a neat domino-stacked roll on a never-ending trip into black holes
not far from Ursa Major

2.
to grant a delightful hop up and throw seeking eyes over the orb’s gentle curve
take a little look-see
the tiniest peek into Tucanae
where tidal forces push small clouds
and outstrip the western winds
towards cunning straits
to subtly tie into bows
cut ribbons of fate

drink a dram of mercy from a well-behaved thimble
yet poems don’t pay no bills now
when words tinker with heart’s mettle

3.
wonder if sagacious rue repays in full
or satisfies the exceeding cost  
of the hankering in a vessel
caught eddying in giant nacred jetsam
while casting minute gems before the moon’s eyes
it’s nigh impossible to hide behind the sun

4.
best be ready with prêt-a-porter life-pennies
and be
wise to always carry a pocket full of sorrys


stitch 'em seams together now
it all comes together
nice and neat





S T, Moonday, 15 July 2013
hope larking with the fates
uses not laughter as bait to
.... come bite in the ****!

I don't usually split infinitives, but that line came direct from ... visiting muses :)
yessssss...... pure magic!



sub-entry: Just A Song Before I Go

Songwriters: NASH

Just a song before I go,
To whom it may concern.
Travelling twice the speed of sound
It's easy to get burned.

When the shows were over
We had to get back home,
And when we opened up the door
I had to be alone.

She helped me with my suitcase,
She stands before my eyes
Driving me to the airport,
And to the friendly skies.

Going through security
I held her for so long.
She finally looked at me in love,
And she was gone.

Just a song before I go,
A lesson to be learned.
Travelling twice the speed of sound
It's easy to get burned.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MN97riXMkkc
rained-on parade Oct 2014
Why can't we have meaningless talk
the way people have meaningless ***-
you would crash over me into a
river of un-scathing emptiness
and leave marks on my skin-
stories that this was where
you started to tear at
the seams
effortlessly
like the silkness
of your sorrows on my floor.

You would become a sultry verse
in this anthology of every day
lodged between the rush and
vacancy of broken hearts
and anguished limbs.

You would radiate the heat
of your angry, angry heart onto
the cold deadness of mine,
and we could burn and melt
all at the same time.

Meaninglessly you would leave
me out of breath,
gather your clothes
and go home.
These days I could only wish my heart could ride over this storm. Meaninglessly.

The first "bold" poem.
Arlo Disarray May 2015
I've been sleepless for ten days, my head's tearing at the seams
There's too much inside my brain from the many built up dreams
As the seams break one by one, all the darkness starts to seep
All the nightmares in my mind are now loose on every street

Dreams all running rampant and destroying all the Towns
Zombie dogs, giant potato bugs and lots of **** clowns
My dreams are all disgusting, and I want to run away
But I guess the right thing to do here is try to save the day

Now thinking of Batman to come and rescue me
Hiding so that the nightmares couldn't still view me
But watching Batman battle was turning me right on
So I had to dream of *** toys, until the urge was gone


And as Batman finally wins the fight
He sticks my dreams back in my head, tight
And he asks "Anything else I can do?"
Getting turned on again, I then replied "I'd like to do you"

After *** with the bat, I felt so much better
When suddenly Batman was in Freddy Krueger's sweater
"I'm just way too tired." the next words I spoke
When I opened my eyelids, and then I awoke
*I thought it was real, but it was all a hoax
EtherealOmega Nov 2017
I've tailored so many suits,
Switching out mismatched buttons for shining brass,
And restoring fabric worn thin over years of well-loved use.

But I cannot tailor this traitorous skin to fit me right.
In some placed it's too lose,
In others too tight…
I cannot switch out the pieces of me I'd rather live without
For new pieces shining with pride.
There is no way to restore a body to what it should have been,
Or even to the simple majesty of what it once was.

Young and ignorant of its uneven seams.

I've hemmed ladies' skirts to the perfect lengths
So they no longer need to worry about tripping over the excess.
Hemmed them to show just the right amount of ankle
Or perhaps none at all..

But I cannot hem myself..

This excess emotion staining my voice denoted me as "she."
And I trip over my own voice that no longer fits in my mouth..
While gorgeous girls in gowns show off thin strips of themselves,
I am left trying to hide every piece of my skin.

This is why I have risked sunstroke in the dead of summer
Wearing a hoodie and jeans to keep me safe.
This is why swimming pools are often synonymous with nightmare.

I no longer know how to wear this body with pride.

So when they ask me when I knew I wasn't a girl…
I have to restrain my urge to laugh and cry all at once.
Because when do we know that something is not as perfect as we once thought..
Only once it has been shown to us and we've been told to fix it.

I wish I could go back to being ignorant of my uneven seams.
These uneven seams that I cannot rip out unless I want to bleed out.
These uneven seams that I will never be able to fix to perfection.

But maybe…
Slowly,
Ever so slowly,
We might be able to stretch the seams of this world.
So that no child has to learn to hate or fear
Their jagged edges
Their unhemmable spaces…






But I cannot be one of those children..
So I will use chemicals to hem my voice..
Readjust my buttons…
Stretch my seams…
I will find a seamster more experienced then I
To rip out these traitorous strings
And rearrange the fabric to a more seemly drape.

I will use new fabric to cover up the patterns I am no longer proud of…
The patterns that cloud my days…
I will mend my ways
Learning to live in a patchwork maze
Until my spirit can return to where it truly belongs
In a beautiful blaze.
- EPL 11/6/2017
Silverflame Aug 2018
my old futile dreams
make the windows all misty
ripping up the seams
blood mixed with ancient whiskey

a smile around the corner
lures the naive mind
******* up the world order
another death wish signed

overhead, brick by brick
the november wind stands still
heart oozing of homesick
empty thoughts keep my glass refilled

delusions cover my sight
faraway lights blink with eager
fixing the crooked night
dinner with the grim reaper
anon Sep 2017
I am a master seamstress
I sew on a grin every day
You can never see my seams
Careful little stitchings
All across the surface

At the end of the day
I cut every little string
I let my sewn smile fall weak

I could smile without it
But it wouldn't be true
Because my cute little smile
Is merely a façade
The real me hides behind seams
She sews to be a survivor
The little seamstress I become


I am a master seamstress
I sew thoughts onto papers
The ink could never bleed through

My strong tight stitchings
Gliding across the blank paper

At the edge of the sheet
I find myself stopping
My stitches want to unravel
I have to let them out
Because they look so caged

So I exterminate my thoughts
They never come back to visit
I set them free for a reason
And it was for them to survive
This little seamstress has a heart


I am a master seamstress
I turn colors into thoughts
The thoughts I turn to material
The material I turn to beauty
The beauty I turn to stitches
The stitches heal broken hearts

My work is so well known
But then they go and leave
I do my part and they are pleased
I stitch their hearts up

They cut some stitchings
Right off my patched heart
The little strings I use
On my seamless tiny grin fray
The seamstress I was works no wonders


I am a master seamstress
I sew the strings onto the puppets
They act a lot like I do
So I admire their tough hearts
They are controlled by another
Little hands lift them up
And make them walk through life

They have their grins plastered on
Just like my seamless little smile
They prance and fly among us
But we never seem to notice them

It's like they are invisible
Falling upon deaf eyes
But I keep them alive
Because a seamstress always saves


I am a master seamstress
I sew what some call impossible
I prove them wrong with one stitch
Still they see right through me

I sewed myself invisibly
Don't let them see the real me
Don't let them know the seamstress
I've sewed their eyes to know
Not to look upon me
As I fix as I repair

They think of me as a fairy
Patching up their cuts
I'm just a small little figure
They never really see
That's just the way a seamstress likes


I am a master seamstress
I sew my wings of thread
Wear them proudly like a trophy
Every stitch is always perfect

They fly up off the wings
They soar when I fly up high
Drooping when I try to walk

My wings are seamless grins
They pretend to be when I'm not
Just like the little grin of everyday

Fly away all you little seams
All the little frayed strings
Gather up in all my stitchings

They look upon the air with care
But the seamstress can't fly away anymore


I am a master seamstress
Sewing up what cannot be fixed by man
CK Baker Jan 2017
In time you’ll recover and absolve
push those scorned impressions aside
hammer down the jaded edges
and sing
that delightful commoners song
the one you sang so well
in what seems a lifetime ago

You really had it you know
that fiery disposition and nimble cunning
those butter chords and derelict style
we could see it -- we could all see it
it was all it took to turn the evening tide
(and rile that buck fever)
heads bashing
tongues lambasting
middle fingers high
and raising Cain on those may fly statesmen

There were no rules
when it came to your survival
no textbook rally or common bond
no structured songbird or bravado stage
you either made it, or laid it
“life by the *****” Mr. Poppy would say
a kaleidoscope of dreams
with rich colored imagery
hardened artisan seams
in a carefully woven motif

But something got lost in the needle point
something sinister and distorted took hold
the quirks and street genius
that were your lifeline
gave way to grunts
and squeals
and chilling night crawlers
the colors faded quickly
to a cold confining grey

There was no grace in the new world
no retribution or switch back
no salvation or accorded finale
only edged platforms of blackened steel
that kept you cased
in a silent vanquished cell
shivering cold with fear
night without day
all in the shadow of death

But time heals all
and the polish sneakers
and open sores are long gone
(though the roman nose and shallow cleft remain)
indeed the falconer beat the widow maker
this go around
and I’m hopeful it won’t happen again
and if it does you’ll see me
standing hand on heart
with that old verse in hand:

he ain’t tainted
or silly,
and most certainly
not forgotten…
he ain’t loony
or fixed,
or a product of his self-doing…
he’s just a straight shootin’ guy,
who had the most of it
figured out
Kagami Nov 2013
Worlds coming together, scream that the things that don't matter,
Don't let the neighbor hear. Machines stab, sew, tie my mouth shut with thin cotton thread.
Purple is my favorite color.
But I sewed the wrong shape, time to start over. I have run out of fabric.
And I am broke, breaking, broken,
Don't try to fix me, you cannot put the pieces back together
With the ancient method you use. Putting clay pieces with gold,
Things are more beautiful having been broken:
*******.
It is all ruined. Plans, hopes, dreams are never real, all in my head.
A wake up call so I can chuck my alarm out the window and maybe jump with it.
Know where I am headed, some say Hell just because I tried. But I can't believe that.
Thought provoking? Good. You need to turn on that ******* brain of yours;
It is rusty. Get some CLR and clean it out just like a shower head, let the water run free again.
Gallop over naked bodies like wild horses in plain
Sight. See the things you never dreamed of, thread breaking, snapping at the seams;
Crimson silk shrivels and crumbles to the floor, looking like the liquid so many people long for.
Red wine runs through people's veins, the so-called blood of Christ that has been long dead, but somehow still teaches ignorant ******* to **** and isolate those who know the truth.
I don't believe it. Topics change and so do we, but we are stuck in a frozen wasteland, thoughts
Jumbled in a pile, never changing, ever-changing, but still the same.

Do I shock you? It is the way it is, life isn't always going to be peachy, little girl, you won't grow
Up to be famous like you want to. We all had that dream, but it unravels like the skin
That real fame paints onto you.
You will be as ****** up as I am. Writing words that no one knows the meaning to, even you
Won't know what they mean, it is a puzzle on a cell phone screen.
An infected wound from dry lips cracking, spilling blood into a kiss that was supposed to be
Passionate. But it was forced; I can call you the name in three languages: *******. Selling
Yourself for the riches that aren't worth a cent. It's drug money, I have seen it.
You will rot like the rest, and be confused as I am. Feel relieved you aren't pregnant, darling.
That will ruin your reputation, ruin your income.
But it's okay. You have a degree in law, sue the ******* that did it to you, go through the
Pain of killing once more because you did it to yourself when you were younger.

The subject seems to be sobering. More medication please, we don't want her to go insane.
Too ******* late, you *******. That happened too long ago to remember. The womb
Did this to me. Possessed me with a ghost of a sleeping dragon, roaring fire and singeing the
Tips of my fingernails. I painted them black to cover it up.
I didn't sell it, I am no solicitor, no one likes them. The hexagonal shapes I print on the snow
Come from somewhere, though. I don't have shoes, my traces in the snow are paw prints from
The realm of wolves. It is there that I am at peace, natural instinct prevails.
Tear the seams between us, dear. Take away the pesky cloth covering our natural selves and
Roam the forest with me. That is where the freaks are.
ryn May 2015
I stand at the feet
of this stunning sunset,
The sparks in my eyes,
light each star.

          
Rhythm of each twinkle,
          synced with that of my own.
          Strong and sure,
          albeit few and far.


Nameless wind brings to me,
stories of silky clouds
I pull your smile deep in my heart
and finally can breathe.

          
Familiar words
          without cloaks nor shrouds.
          Just words...
          Yours and mine to reveal what
          our hearts would unsheathe.


What day is this?
Perfect to find
the rebirth of
freshly dewed dreams.

          
It isn't yesterday
          nor is it tomorrow
          It's today...
          Where the sun would see us
          weave our tapestries
          through promise-bound seams.


I feel deep in my heart,
a fluttery stirring,
A hope,
a strength to reach out to you.

          
This hope you speak of...
          Tethered by no thread or string
          Mending my universe
          and making it new.

          So now I stand
          at the end of this set...
          Seeking the beacon
          that I had known.
          I'd again brave through this day
          tomorrow...
          Just so that I could hear your heart
          that beats with my own...



     *Dajena M

     *ryn
Karina Rose Aug 2010
I try and listen to comfort you
I hear you say things that I have only told one Soul
You Pull at my Seams
I reach for you
Hugging you this way makes me feel the Guilt
Waiting to be Caught
I listen for the door
While I lose my control
I let a Free hand bring you in
You feel warm
Your body moves to mirror my shape to a perfect fit
Your hands move to the smallest part of my waist
I let you run your hands further down
I still can't shake the Guilt
So much so that an apology follows my retreat
You say things that should be in movies
20 feet high on a screen
I want to give in
I feel your hands and then your arms are once again around me
You pull me in
You're Pulling at my Seams
You ask for my lips
I can only say no, As I shake my head
I try to shake the last minute or two loose from my mind
You close the distance between us
And suddenly I don't want to fight it any more
Thank you to my Guest Star Muse
Cunning Linguist Nov 2013
Loaded down with swag, you could say I got some baggage
Now tag me in your post - host server overload with traffic
Havoc, I smashed it I'm smokin on that hash **** its magic I'm laughin,
***** where the **** my brain go?
Oh I know **** I got so braindead before I wrote this
I'm monumental, moving boulders
Deport this *****, jumpin borders
Spit my lyrics so hot just like you was sippin Folger's
Burn your tongue? I burned my face,
You in a race?
Huh, ***** don't even try to run

Your nightmares are my fantasy
I make your dreams rip at the seams
Best believe it I'm the reason
You be losing sleep
Unfeasibly
Freddy who? Man **** that dude
This ain't no ****** "Elm Street"
11-12 Better check yourself
**** with me I killed it
You're in my world now *****

And grab your crucifix
Ha! AND PRAY TO GOD *****

Oh ****, break in the beat
I can't be defeated so don't leave your seat
So many drugs my heart feels complete
Lungs replete with the cloud of a thousand burning trees
Smokeapalooza, my brains on vacation
maybe it's a factor, all the inhalation
Snoozing you loser?
Got it going on,
Got more bombs than a marathon in Boston
AND IF YOU THINK THAT **** WASN'T A FALSE FLAG GO BACK TO SLEEP

I'm a self confessed bongaholic by definition
Cro-Magnon, I'm stone-age in terms of cognition
though hopefully I can get some ignition, generate some sparks
My colorful rhymes stand in stark contrast
against this black and white palette
all these so called artists paint with
Oh and blunts are great, ******* Wiz Khalifa
pearl another one and I'm feelin golden
withholding nothin, so I'm puffin til I'm huffin

straight baked like space muffins
something you can't relate or replicate,
so don't defame, or deface my status as
realest ***** in the rap game
no malarkey;
you have a better chance swimming with sharks b

breaking bad
take a line of that Walter White to my head
til my brains are frying like eggs at breakfast
hear just a little sizzling
**** bro I'ma wake up dead

David Banner he don't know swag
Lil' B holla that he own swag
Overflowin with all these newfags
I /b/ like :bitchplease: I ******* made swag

I'm beautiful man super cool
and all all the ******* love me
most popular boy in school
I have everything I want
it seems -
in my dreams,
******* **** me
My ADD is so infuriating
which is at least partially
why my primary hobbies
are screaming rapping and smoking ****
“The Silicon Tower of Babel”
The over utilization of technology, its abuse, is unweaving humanity at the seams. Human health, sanity, and spirituality are under attack. The boom of accessibility over technology has increasingly subtracted from the frequency of face to face human interaction as well as human interaction with nature. The result is a declining emotional and psychological health and a ******* of spiritual values. Each individual who values holistic health should limit the time he or she spends using technology that isolates them to less than twenty-four hours in a week. They should make more purposeful efforts toward interacting with nature daily and for periods of at least an hour at a time. Lastly, these individuals should labor to replace reclusive technologies with modes of technology that encourage face to face and group social interaction such as movies, Skype, etc.
Self-limitation of the use of isolating technology will begin to correct the twisting of our spiritual values and the social and physiological damage that has been caused by the overuse and abuse of technology. In James T. Bradley’s review of Joel Garreau’s book discussion of radical evolution, called “Odysseans of the twenty first century”, Bradley quotes Garreau when he says that technology will result in human transcendence. In “Odysseans” it is said that “The nature of transcendence will depend upon the character of that which is being transcended—that is, human nature.”  James. T Bradley, scholar and author of this peer reviewed journal says that “When we’re talking about transhumanism, we’re talking about transcending human nature. . .  One notion of transcendence is that you touch the face of God. Another version of transcendence is that you become God.”  This is a very blatant ******* of the roles of God and man. When the created believes it can attain the greatness of its creator, and reach excellence and greatness on par with its God, it has completely reversed the essence of spirituality. This results in the ability to justify the “moral evolution of humankind” according to Odysseans. And this “moral evolution” often results in “holy wars”. In “Man in the age of technology” by Umberto Galimberti of Milan, Italy, written for the Journal of Analytical Psychology in 2009, technology is revealed to be “no longer merely a tool for man’s use but the environment in which man undergoes modifications.” Man is no longer using technology. Man is no longer affecting and manipulating technology to subdue our environments. Technology is using, affecting, and manipulating the populace; it is subduing humankind into an altered psychological and spiritual state.
Technology, in a sense, becomes the spirituality or the populace. It replaces nature and the pure, technologically undefiled creation as the medium by which the common man attempts to reach the creator. The common man begins to believe in himself as the effector of his Godliness. Here there is logical disconnect. People come to believe that what they create can connect them to the being that created nature. They put aside nature and forget that it is an extension of the artist that created it. Technology removes man from nature (which would otherwise force an undeniable belief in a creator) and becomes a spiritual bypass. “According to “The Only Way Out Is Through: The Peril of Spiritual Bypass” by Cashwell, Bentley, and Yarborough, in a January 2007 issue of Counseling and Values, a scholarly and peer reviewed psychology journal, “Spiritual bypass occurs when a person attempts to heal psychological wounds at the spiritual level only and avoids the important (albeit often difficult and painful) work at the other levels, including the cognitive, physical, emotional, and interpersonal. When this occurs, spiritual practice is not integrated into the practical realm of the psyche and, as a result, personal development is less sophisticated than the spiritual practice (Welwood, 2000). Although researchers have not yet determined the prevalence of spiritual bypass, it is considered to be a common problem among those pursuing a spiritual path (Cashwell, Myers, & Shurts, 2004; Welwood, 1983). Common problems emerging from spiritual bypass include compulsive goodness, repression of undesirable or painful emotions, spiritual narcissism, extreme external locus of control, spiritual obsession or addiction, blind faith in charismatic leaders, abdication of personal responsibility, and social isolation.”  Reverting back to frequent indulgence in nature can begin to remedy these detrimental spiritual, social, and physiological effects.  If people as individuals would choose to daily spend at least an hour alone in nature, they would be healthier individuals overall.
  Technology is often viewed as social because of its informative qualities, but this is not the case when technologies make the message itself, and not the person behind the message, the focus.  To be information oriented is to forsake or inhibit social interaction.  Overuse of technology is less of an issue to human health if it is being overused in its truly social forms. Truly social forms of technology such as Skype and movies viewed in public and group settings are beneficial to societal and personal health. According to a peer-reviewed study conducted by John B. Nezlek, the amount and quality of one’s social interactions has a direct relationship to how positively one feels about one’s self. Individual happiness is supported by social activity.
Abuse of technology is a problem because it results in spiritual *******.  It points humanity toward believing that it can, by its own power, become like God.  Abuse of technology inclines humanity to believe that human thoughts are just as high as the thoughts of God. It is the silicon equivalent of the Tower of Babel.  It builds humanity up unto itself to become idols. In extreme cases overuse of technology may lead to such megalomania that some of humanity may come to believe that humanity is God.  Technology is a spiritual bypass, a cop-out to dealing with human inability and depravity. The misuse of technology results in emotional and psychological damage. It desensitizes and untethers the mind from the self. It causes identity crises. Corruption of technology from its innately neutral state into something that negatively affects the human race results in hollow social interactions, reclusion, inappropriate social responses, and inability to understand social dynamics efficiently.
It may appear to some that technology cannot be the cause of a large-scale social interrupt because technology is largely social. However, the nature of technology as a whole is primarily two things: It is informational; it is for use of entertainment. Informational technology changes the focus of interaction from the messenger to the message. Entertainment technology is, as a majority, of a reclusive nature.
Readers may be inclined to believe that nature is not foundational to spirituality and has little effect on one’s spiritual journey, it is best to look through history. Religions since the beginning of time have either focused on nature or incorporated nature into their beliefs. Animists believe that everything in nature has a spirit. Native American Indians like the Cherokee believe that nature is to be used but respected. They believe that nature is a gift from the Great Spirit; that earth is the source of life and all life owes respect to the earth. Christians believe that it is the handiwork of God, and a gift, to be subdued and used to support the growth and multiplication, the prosperity and abundance of the human race.
In a society that has lost touch with its natural surroundings it is sure that some believe that nature has little effect on health, as plenty of people live lives surrounded by cities and skyscrapers, never to set foot in a forest or on red clay and claim perfect health. However, even in the states of the least contact possible with nature, nature has an effect on human health. The amount of sunlight one is exposed to is a direct factor in the production of vitamin D. Vitamin D deficiency has been determined to be linked to an increased likelihood of contracting heart disease, and is a dominant factor in the onset of clinical depression. Nature has such a drastic effect on human health that the lack of changing season and sunlight can drive individuals to not only depression, but also suicide. This is demonstrated clearly when Alaska residents, who spend half a year at a time with little to no sunlight demonstrate a rate of suicide and clinical depression diagnoses remarkably higher than the national average.
Dependence on technology is engrained in our society, and to some the proposed solution may not seem feasible. They find the idea of so drastically limiting technology use imposing. They do not feel that they can occupy their time instead with a daily hour of indulgence in nature. For these individuals, try limiting isolating technology use to 72 hours a week, and indulging in nature only three times a week for thirty minutes. Feel free to choose reclusive technology over social technologies sometimes, but do not let technology dominate your life. Make conscious efforts to engage in regular social interactions for extended periods of time instead of playing Skyrim or Minecraft. Watch a movie with your family or Skype your friends. Use technology responsibly.
To remedy the effects of the abuse of technology and the isolations of humanity from nature, individuals should limit their reclusive technology use to 24 hours in a week’s time, indulge in nature for an hour daily, and choose to prefer truly social technologies over reclusive technologies as often as possible. In doing so, individuals will foster their own holistic health. They will build and strengthen face-to-face relationships. They will, untwist, reconstruct and rejuvenate their spirituality. They will be less likely to contract emotional or social disorders and will treat those they may already struggle with.  So seek your own health and wellbeing. Live long and prosper.
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
[A] is for
An
Archer with
An
Arrow through his
Adams
Apple, very
Applicable, to the
Ample
Amounts of
Amiable
Attitude,
Adorning his heart, in
After
Action
Attributes, that impart, the
Admiration, of
*******, in this
Acting out of
Arrogance bit. he is,
Astute, in his
Allure, and
Aloof, in the
Air, of
Aspiration, in which, he was
Alienated in the
Agony, of
Asking
Assassins, the
Aforementioned. lights, camera,
Action. recipe of the
Ancient
Admirals of
Avian
Aliens, that
Attacked, with the
Arms and fists, of
Arachnids, now
Aching to be
Activated in sudden
Allegiance to the
Answers, of the truth.
Accumulating wealth for
Anarchy's of
Abating
Angels in
Atrophied,
Alchemical
Academies of the ever
After life .. . of silence.
****** strengthens in these
Accolades of violence, in
Alliance to
Appliances
Appearing in the
Arson of
Apathy, happily, to
Anguish in the
Amputation of my
Abdomen, if it meant i'm a real
American, even, when, only
Ash, remains.
Acclimating in its remains
Attained, the
Articles of my pain, in
Affluent shame, next time ..
Aim... oak
[A]?

[B] is for the
Bah of
Black sheep, and
Big
Bit¢hes, fat cats,
Bombarded in the
Blasted,
Bastion of
Blackened
Benevolent
Blokes,
Berating the
Blasphemous,
Be-seech, of
Brains, to feel
Bad, about the
Blotching of
Binary codes, erroding, the
Blanked out
Books, of
Belittled
Bureaucrats,
Bowling
Back the
Bank rolls of
Betterment, from the
Back of the
Blackened
Bus, as i'm
Busting guts, in the
Bubbling
Butts, of *****
Benched, but
Beautiful, in the
Battle, in the
Bane, of existence.
Baffled, in the strain of
Belligerence, in
Beating the
Beaming
Butchery into
Billy's
Broken
Brains, in
Bouts, of
Battering
Bobby's for
Bags of
*******
Before, affording to
Build
Bombs, is just
Beyond
Breaking
Beer
Bottles on the
*******
Benefactors of
Boulder
Bashing with the
Beaks, of
Birds, with no
Bees. just a
Being, trying to
[B]


[C] is for the
*****
Courting the
Choreography, in
Computerized
Curtains,
Circumventing the
Cultured,
Contrivance of
Chromatic
Cellars,
Calibrating, to the
Contours of
Calamities,
Celebrating the
Cyclical,
Cylinders of
Cyphered
Calenders,
Correcting the
Calculations, of
Crooks
Coughing, in
Courageous
Coffins of
Canadians,
Collecting
Cobble stones, from
Catacombs, in the lands of the
Conquered,
Capturing the
Claps of thieves, sneaky
Cats, of greed. its
Comedy. oh
Comely, to my
Cling of
Cleanliness, and for your self
[C]

[D] is for the
Dip *****, as they
Delve
Deeper in the
Deliverance, of
Deviant
Deities,
Dying to
Demand
Dinner
Delivered in the throws of
Death,
Deceiving
Defiance of
Darkened
Dreams,
Demeaning that which
Deems the
Dormant of the
Dominant, to be
Demons of
Deviled
Devilry,
Dooming us for
Destruction.
Deploy the,
Damsels in
Duress.
Defiled and
Distressed,
Detestable and
Dead. in the thump of
Drums,
Dumbing down the
Debts of,
Dire regrets.
Dissect the
Daisies of,
Disillusion, in the current
Days,
Diluting night into
Dawn,
Disconnecting the
Dots of the
Dichotomy, and arming me, in the
Diabolatry, of,
Demonology, as i watch me
Dwindle away, the
[D]

[E] is for
Everything in nothing,
Eating the
Euphoric
Enigmas of
Enlightened
Elitists,
Exceeding in the
Extravagant
Essence of
Esoteric
Euphemisms,
Escaping the
Elegance of the
Elements in the
Eccentricity of
Eclectic
Ecstasy,
Exhaling, the
Exostential blessings, of inner
Entities, and renouncing the
Enemies of my
Ease,
Easily to appease
Extraterestrial
Empires,
Extracting the lost
Embers of
Enlightenment, in
Excited delight, but to later
Entice, the fight, and
Escape, like a thief into the night of
Everywhere,
Entering the
Exits of
Elevators leading no where, to
Elevate, this useless place,
Encased in malware in the
Errant
Errors of
Every man,
Enslaved, of flesh and
Entrails,
Enveloping the core of
Everything, that matters,
Enduring, the chatter, of
Evermore,
Ever present in
Everybody
Ever made to take
[E]

Funk the
Ferocity of
Foolish
Fandangos, with
Fanged
Fanatics,
Fooled in the
Fiasco of
Fumbled
Fantasies,
Falling through the
Farms of
Freely
Found
Fans,
Flying in the
Fame of
Fortune.
Fornicating on the
Fallen
Fears of
Fat
Fish getting their
Fillet of
Fills.
Feel me in the
Frills

Granted with
Generosity.
Giblets of
Gratitude and
Greed,
Greeting the
Goop and
Gobbled
Gore,
Gleaned from the
Glamour of
Ghouls in
Gillie suits,
Getting what they
Got
Going, in the
Gratuitous
Gallows of a
Game
Gaffed by
Giants.

Hello to the
Horizon of
Hellish
Hilarity, in
Hope of
Happy, to
Heave from
Heifers, to
Help the
Hemp
Harshened
Hobos in
Heightened
Horror, to
Honor the
Habitats of
Hapless
Habituals,
Herbalising the work
Horse, named
Have Not, in the
Haughtily
Hardened
Houses of
Happenstance.

Ignore the
Ignorant
Idiots, too
Illiterate to
Indicate the
Indicative
Instances of
Idiom in the
Irrelevant
Inaccuracy of
I,
In the
Intellect of
Idle
Individuals,
Irritated with the
Irate
Illusion of
Idols
Illustrated upon the
Iris,
In the
Illumination of
I.

******* the
Jobless
Jokers, and
Jimmy the
Jerkins from their
Jammie's, in
Justified,
Jousting off the
Jumps, in
Jokes, and
Jukes of
Just
Jailers,
Jesting for
Jammed
Jury's to
****
Judgment from the
Jitter
Juiced
Jeans of
Jesus.

**** the
Keep of
Khaki-ed
Kool aid men,
Kept in the
Kilometers of
Kits,
Kin-less
Kinetics,
Knifing the
Knights of
Kneeling
Kinsmanship,
Keeling over the
Keys of
Kaine, with the
Karmic
Karate
Kick of a
Kangaroo.

Love the
Levity, in the
Luxurious
Laments of
Loveliness,
Lovingly
Levitating in
Level,
Lucidly.
Living in
Laps, of
Lapses,
Looping, but
Lacking the
Loom of the
Latches
Locked with
Leeches of the
Lonely
Lit
Leering of
Lightly
Limbs, that
Lash at the
Lessers in
Loot of
Lost letters,
Lest we
Learned in the
Lessons of
Liars.

Marooned in
Maniacal
Masterpieces,
Masqueraded as
Malignant
Memorization's of
Motionless
Mantras, but
Merrily
Masking
Mikha'el the
Mundane, who is
Musically
Mused of
Monsters,
Mangling the
Monitor, but
Maybe just a
Moniker of
Marauders.

Never to
Navigate the
Nautical
Nether of
Never
Nears.
Not to
Nit pic the
Naivety of
Nicety.
Notions
Neither take
Note
Nor
Name the
Noise of
Nats in the
Nights of
Neanderthals
Napping in the
Nets of
Ninjas

Ominous in the
Obvious
Omnipotence of
Oblivious
Obligatory
Opulence,
Of
Other
Oddly
Orchards
Of
Offices,
Ordaining
Orifices in
Offers of
Ordinary
Ordinances in
Option-less
Optics,
Optionally an
On-call Oracle, in
Optimal,
Overture.

Perusing the
Pestilent
Pedestals of
Personal,
Parameters,
Pursuing the
Petty
Plumes of
Piety with the
Patience of a
Pharaoh,
******* on the
People with the
Penal
Pianos of
Port-less
Portals, in the
Paperless
Points in the
Palpal
Pats of
Pettiness.
Poor, but
Prideful.

Quick to
Qualify the
Quitter for a
Quick
Quill in
Queer
Quivering of
Quickened
Questioning,
Queried in the
Quakiest of
Quandaries.
Quarantined to a
Quadrant, of
Quagmires.
Questing the
Quizzing of
Quotable
Quartets.

Relax in the
Relapse of
Realizations, and
React with
Racks of
Rolling
Rock to
Rate the
Rep of the
Rain-less.
Roar in
Rapturous
Rendering of the
Random
Readiness in the
Ravenous,
Rallying, of the
Retinal
Refracting of
Reality.
Realigning, the
Righteous
Rearing of the
Realm, and
Retrying.

Steer the
Serenity in
Sustainability, and
Slither through the
Seams of
Slumbered
Scenes.
Secrete the
Solo
Sobriety of
Sapped
Sassys,
Salivating upon a
Slew of
Stupidity,
Steadily
Supplied in
Stream,
Suitably
Slain in the
Steam of
Sanity.
Sadly, i
Still
Seem,
Salvagable.

Topple
The
Titans in
Tightened
Terror.
Torn
Territories
Turn
Turbulent in
The
Teething of
Totality.
The
Telemetry of
Time,
Tortured of
Torrent
Theories,
Told in
Turrets of
Transpiring
Terribleness, from
Tumultuous
Tikes unto
Teens,
Trading
Toys for
Tea.
Thrice
Thrusted upon by the
Tyranny of
Tanks.

Unanimous is the
Ugliness in the
Undertones of
Undreamed
Ulteriors
Undergoing the
Unclean in the
***** of
Utterly
Upset
Users,
Uplifting the
Unfitting
Ushers in
Underwear-less,
Ulcers,
Undergoing the
Ultra of
Uberness.

Venial in
Vindictive
Viciousness of
Vindicated
Venom,
Venomously
Vilifying the
Vials of
Villainy in the
Veins of
Vampires,
Validity of
Valuable
Violence, is
Valiant in the
Vaporous
Vacationing of
Vagrant
Vices.

Why
Whelp in the
Weather
When you can
Wave to the
Whirling
Wisps,
Whipping Where the
Whimsical Were
Way back in the
Wellness of
Whip its,
Wrangling my
World,
With
Waterless
Worms, as
War shouts are
Wasted in the
Wackiest
Walks of
Waking
Wonder.

Xenophobic
Xenogogue, of
Xenomorphic
Xeons, turn
Xyphoid, in the
Xenomenia of my
X, my
Xenolalia of
X, to
***. im lost in the
Xenobiotic zen of
Xerces, on a
Xebec to the
X on the map.
Xenogenesis, in the
Xesturgy of my
Xyston
Xd

Yelling
Yearned from
Yelping.
Yard
Yachts
Yielding, to the
Yodel of
Yeah
Yeahs, to the
Yapping of
******
Yuppie
Yoga
Yanks, over
Yonder.
Yucking it up with the
Yawn of a
Yocal.

Zapped from a
Zone i
Zoomed with
Zeal in the
Zig and
Zag of my
Zapping
Zimming
Zest, upon a
Zombie-less
Zeplin.
Zealot,
Zionist, or
Zoologists,
Zeros or ones, just
Zip your
Zip locked. and
Zzzzz
Zzzz
Zzz
Zz
Z
Zero
this is a work in progress
My soul is a deep dark bottomless well
A place where all my thoughts dwell
Walk across the bridge of gloom
Find the place where bad things bloom.

Thoughts of revenge & torture, thoughts of pain
Thoughts that would make the normal insane
Tiptoe the tight rope across the well
But if you fall in the bottom you’ll find hell.

Take the plunge, now it’s your turn,
feel the terror fell it burn
Like boiling water pouring down your back
A heart of gold is something I lack.

My soul is like fire, violent and warm
Like Nathalie Imbruglia I feel torn,
ripped apart at the seams
Head filled with bad dreams
And thoughts and wonders all forsaken
No one to love for my heart has been taken.

But since you’re here stay a while,
you won’t have fun, but I can make you smile,
and laugh at all you are afraid to face
This is my soul, an unnerving place.
© 2016 Christine Mulvihill
Read more at http://******-in-oncology.com
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
The love pretty please
wait for my
Cherry baby on top
Not some love O-Oreo
I could scream beguiled
Both twirled in swirls
Bavarian cream

Love has torn at the seams
Bad dream hot hit
bounty hunter
Bunny ears of the hop heart
it skips divine lips like a light tower
No other apology cries the thunder

And wait a **** minute
O-Oh-Yes where's my tip

I am not your second
fiddle of stunts
The romance of philosophy

We can fly higher
than anyone
will ever be

The Outgaze O hearts
of symmetry
Being told about their love
or other peoples fun
Twilight apology Wolfin tie outrun

Love O Apology light my pleasure
O on Overdrive no time for the
S letter-word SOS seizure
How many love gestures
of psychology

Love word *O
love
to Outlive
your treasure
Being psyched for physiology
Feeling mighty good right now
Don't blow bubbles like their
stars* of trouble

A few in the A-New heart stays
ever so blue few Good Men
Perfect Zen thumbs up
His or hers how cute
the words up
The Buddha says
Love is a
spiritual existence

The herbs body rubs
Going to the Hubs
Behind all your apologies
Wearing the new Doctor scrubs
Love house of Labs resistance

The morning glory September
rise and stretch your
overworked wings
Believing never comparing
to another love
It's your love

Or very O for outstanding at the utmost
So incredible the feeling
       Loveology
There's absolutely no apology
The love surrender lion and tigers
So bearable

Her turn like a Turnup
Up close nose smells the rose
Picking love out pulling
the weeds
Her red  embarrassed face
of the radishes
The Shy bush compared
to the O outgoing love
A hint of red delicious apple
Buzzing around the
Mulberry Bush_
Big Ben London
O Sweet Lord of magic singing
*Rosebush* fresh lemons
George Bush Patriotic
Chilean Sea Maiden Bass
Love ******

VIP pass especially with love
Here it is his loves
A spinning wheel so dizzy
London foggy she is the
product of the  flower *****
Like a carnival cotton candy
What a head rush
Another apology and a big push
Those hummingbirds of sweet soul
But something ambushed
She got a lump of his
crab meat cheek crush

Getting over someone never to see them

*Picking out all the petals of the rose when she was with him*

How many apologies open heart surgeries
Apology on hold like a new series
*Wake up "O" my muffin*
Cheers to the world of Oats
Fingerpicking Cheerios
*Don't give in  get to know him

Giving/InWay*

New love *Caved In*
His way per click day
High payments to pay off

BMW Billionaire Man wilted
Love head Beamer
Be
_ My__ World the dreamer

That love pain injury, going faster
Strong love never to lose her
Like cancer Santas Deers love prancer

Fine tooth comb
Negative force to succumb

Capitulate
Artsy wings to meditate
She is destined for something
So articulate
Can this be a painful love of fate?
She succumbs to the time given in
To her O Lord temptation
Words stand alone planet of people
Hearing the real voice no recording
From here to eternity the blasted phone

The Love O not to outwit just sit
And lift your gravity of love
Round earth or your flat on the ground or above
someone knows your true love


*She is combing her hair Silkience Queen of the Divination
Love, there should be no apology lifted gravity that loves O went further than he will ever know her sexuality was smiles alive he couldn't learn his numbers.  Where is the love when your heart thunders world of letters and love writers never to apologize we are the real fighters
Olivia A Keaton May 2017
I wish it would
well rain harder
I wish that
the sky water would be salty
like my tears.
this way both could slide down my face unidentifiable
I wish the thunder was louder
just to help save me from my thoughts

I love how
well simply how
I'm walking to the beat,
crunching gravel to meet the sound
of my favorite song
even though it's no longer playing
I love that
the rain is blurring my vision
eventhough I couldn't see anyway
I love that with every step
I'm taking a shower
the rain provides me with good cleansing
I'm slowly scrubbing away every
remark, laugh, judge, scar and stain
and as my jeans, blouse, and shoes get wet,
I'm washing away some of this too
hidden deep within the seams

and yet some people wonder
why
why does she like the rain
well
It's not just rain
it's a friend
that I can talk to and actually leave with
a cleansed soul.
CK Baker Oct 2017
they’re pouring out of the
woodwork
those pretentious machiavellians
in ailing albino frames
eccentric masked figures
milling about the glow light
like night moths
in a cold london fog

lunatic gazers
with seeping moles
pinned by frogmen and twine
spider climbers
in hell fire
splitting seams
on the fading
and hideous ink

guards of the perch
stand on hades hand
while monsters and demons
with severed limbs
taunt the condemned
and wanting
souls of the ******

cauldron fire
in blood red sky
silent screams
hack and wheeze
gas lines broken
words unspoken
teetering backwards
in the dark shadows
of the phantom abyss
Madeline Oct 2012
it was bursting at the seams when you held me -
and i could hear the muted thump of your heart
through the fabric of your t-shirt.
when your fingers pulled through the growing-out shortness of my hair and
your lips at my forehead -
that was when i knew it.

and when you would whisper,
"i have a secret,"
and i would look up at your shining-eyed face,
and smile, and whisper back,
"what is it?"
and you would whisper,
"i think i've told you before, but
you're beautiful."
it was bursting at the seams when i kissed you,
and the way we couldn't breathe
and the kind of want we didn't know existed.

and falling asleep with my face tucked into your chest
and your fingers brushing my hair back
absently
from my face

and our breathing slowing

and our whispered wantings

that was when i knew it,
and soon i'll have to say it.
igc May 2015
I saw the best minds of my generation congested and
polluted overdosing on irrelevance

Abandoned abused replaced
Fed to the thought police
Corrected corrupted
Declining the potential to be heard in
exchange for the opportunity to be documented

Lives being lived according to unfeasible standards
You either make it or you don’t
there’s no in between
there’s no maybe
there’s no equal

Left to meander through the conceived thoughts of others
decisions being made
moves being made
eulogies being made

nothings real
nothing’s right
nothing’s honest
nothing thought up matters


Who in the safety of their homes were taught respect
are told to mask their emotions
Identities saved for the weak
Only to be showcased when conducive

Who pump iron into their veins
looking for an angry fix of acceptance
Sweat streams surge down their backs
Failure prominent in their thoughts
Motivation blessing their features
the Devil clever in disguise

Who see little white fields of fairy dust
a never ending landscape of courage
giving them superpowers beyond belief

Nothing beats the freedom of being told
You can fly

Who dream of equality behind closed eyes
But render to imposed birth rights when open
The upper hand implying more than height
and executing more force than necessary to move them

It’s all about the cause until you’re indubitably
the effect

Who tuck monsters into their beds
Forgetting to check closets for skeletons not quite left behind
in the path of carefully chaotic self destruction
Conveniently purging themselves of words whispered
in the throes of passion
Forced upon the ears of all naive enough to listen

Who carelessly expend countless hours playing with
condescending pawns disguised as adults
All grown up with no where to go
Replacing quality with quantity
Leaving long dull trails of breadcrumbs
leading to hearts long since lost
Never to be recovered again

Who follow sexuality by the book
doing this to get that for this him them who what when where
Why does the finish line have to be covered with brightly colored lace and muffled drunk cries chanting no

Who stare straight dead into the soul of love but never
Never into her eyes
Told she is not worthy of being addressed directly
Fingers itching to cop a feel
Only to discover the body is but a passage to her straight dead soul


Who trade in their voice mind and individuality
for half assed smiles and superficial men
As the face of a leviathan nicknamed acceptance
hands them a paycheck they’ve worked too
night day night night hard to refuse

Who idolize the feel of phantom limbs of lovers past
Twisted words convoluting their heads
Forcing on masks of pure heroine
at the sight of scars left on the soul
Scratching at the need to feel wanted
But cowering at the ability to truly be heard

Who have perfected the art of parallel painting
Elegant red streaks hidden beneath layers of
choppy dark colored hate covering pretty pale limbs
Seeming to fade as colorlessly caked on insecurities susurrate bitter-sweet nothings that curl themselves just inside her mutilated skin

Who scavenged their looks from the bottom of holes
they’re expected to clamber out of
Smiling pretty smiling
Being treated to complimentary meals
Only to be served plates full of disappointment.

Who crave companion’s flaws
in ruthless attempts to satisfy their hunger for compassion
Selfless beings dedicated to less than noble attempts at vanquish
The call for heat too satisfying to refuse the trade off forever uselessly launching themselves into razor sharp blades
aimed at ***** sleeves

Who see soft lips as cushion enough to fall from towers built of fear
Dragging moist palms across pavement thighs
Tearing at the seams holding their
hearts together

Who cower behind brick wall appearances
fruitlessly clutching on to ideas reserved for the most fortunate
Scaring away potential with claws that seemingly only come
out to play in the face of acceptance

Who’s sick stick thin limbs trail their worn down
fingernails in an effort mar skin no one can see
Streaks titillate their bright red scalps
A reflection of their underlying journey

Who disgorge yesterday's meal from stomachs long before empty
Blood spewing from the mouth an open wound
Continuously sewed up but never stitched tight correctly
Wiring shut opinions but never gorged enough to
muzzle their Howls



Ideas, calm and collected have long been hijacked and invaded by Hestia

Hestia! Consent! Content! Acceptance!
Long nights and roid rage men!
Two faces fighting a losing battle!
Girls playing mom! Boys playing war!
Ill ridden parents still pledging to the
United States of Controlling Media!

Hestia! Hestia!
Overall reign of Hestia!
Hestia the beautiful!
Incarcerated Hestia!
Hestia the ******!

Hestia twisted and shaped to form the voice of conformity
Hestia constantly watching over and monitoring
Hestia being told what to ******* think

Hestia seeping creeping sneaking into the
darkest crevices of our minds
Hestia when least expected coming out to say
“Hello”

Too late! Hestia’s already made herself at home
Wedged between the rooks of your biggest fear and
burrowed deep into the folds of
Your  Worst  Nightmare

**** in a constant battle between
rejecting Hestia,
and accepting her.
This was obviously inspired by Allen Ginsberg's "Howl."
Considering it was, at the time, the voice of that generation, Welcome to Generation Y.
This is a work in progress.
Carre noir Jun 2014
Tracing paper beauty queen

Always looks frayed around the seams
Big Virge Oct 2014
Folks ...
It is a ... " Fine Line " ... !!!
that ... Clearly ... Defines ...
the road that I ... Walk ...
with words that I ... Rhyme ...

cos' ... words that I ... talk ...
may see me ... in ... Court ... !!!

without ... " Sean " ...
or ... " Just Cause " ... !!!

because of YES ... " Them " ...
Those in ... Governments ...
and Those ... who they ... send ...
to enforce ... " Poor Judgements " ... !!!!!

but ofcourse ... They'll Contend ...
That ... My Wordplay ... OFFENDS ...
and may well stir up ... " Trouble " ... !!!
and cause .... " VIOLENCE " .... !!!!! ....

But ....
It's okay for ... THEM ... ?!!!?
to say ... " What They Like " ... !???!
and Declare ... Their War Fights ...
as forms of .... " Defence " ....
when plans they ... Design ...
keep causing ... PROBLEMS ... !!?!!

Well ....
It doesn't seem like ... ?
their actions are ... Right ... !?!
When ... Every ... News Night
The Things ... In Our Sight ...
KEEP ... Showing Us ... VISIONS ...
of people who ... " DIE " ... !!!!! ...

Now ....
That's A ... "Fine Line" ...
I have ... Re-designed ...
from Princes' ... " Great Song "...
The ... " Sign 'o' The Times " ...

So ...
Don't get me ... wrong ... !!!
My lines are ... " Refined " ...
and Clearly ... "BELONG" ... !!!
where fine lines ... recline ...

Each line that I write ....
Proves my mind is ...

...... " Inclined " ......

to write about crimes
affecting .... Our lives ....

and it is a ... "Fine Line' ...
that helps me to ... FIND ...
a way to ... " Express " ... !!! ...

My ... " Anger and Stress " ...
About ... How We ... TRY ... !!!
to do ... what is ... "RIGHT" ... !!!!

But .....
What does this mean ?!?
in a world so ... "Unclean" ... !!!!!

What do we stand for ... ?
when going to ... WAR ... !?!

We should take a .................
.............................................

...... Pause ..............

and ... THINK of ... Our Cause ...
Is making .... Blood .... POUR ....
what we're ... Really here for ... ?!!!?

If you're thinking ... "YES" ...
Are you .... " Really Sure " .... ???

How would you feel ?

if the blood poured
was ..... YOURS ...... !!!

or ....
Someone ... YOU LOVED ... !!!
and Really ... Cared For ... !!!!!!

Well
As these lines ... State ...

It is a ... "Thin Line" ...
between YES .....

" Love and Hate " ...

but ....

"Hating" ... For REAL ... !!!
Won't help us ... Relate ... !!!

These days ...
it's quite ... CLEAR ...
The Dangers of ... FEAR ... !!!!!

But ...
That's ... Nothing New ... !!!

The past's given clues ...
of how ... IGNORANCE ... Fuels ...
individuals to ... USE ...
Torture and ... "Abuse" ...
Through crews filled with ... FOOLS ...
who think ... Hatred ... IS COOL ... !!!!?!!!!

Well ....
Hatred Profiled ...
Does NOT ... !!! ...
Lead to ... Smiles ...

It leads to a ... place ...
That's Not ... quite so great ...
and leads us ... though leaders ...
who like to .... DICTATE ....

Like those around .... NOW .... !!!
who want to ... "Clamp Down" ...
on people like .... me ....
whose wordplay's ... So Neat ...

That .... Our Poetry ....
Gives Policemen ... " A Beat " ...
That makes them ... RETREAT ... !!!!!

See what I mean ... !!!

My ... Poetry Seams ...
are ... Suitably ... Clean ...
and walk a ... Fine Line ...
of ... " Quality Rhymes " ...
that ... Bypass ... Extremes ...

because they're ... Inclined ...
to .... " UNIFY " .... minds ....

See .... that's how i'd like
My Wordplay ... DEFINED ... !!!!!

Speaking ... Your Mind ...
Should ... NOT BE ... A Crime ... !!!!!

Unless what you say ...
Divides and spreads ...

...... " HATE " ..... !!!!!

I'd rather spread ... " LOVE " ...
Through ... " Kisses and Hugs " ... !!!

while most now ... Indulge ...

In Acting like ... THUGS ...
and taking ... HARD DRUGS ...
when they've .... had ....
...  " Quite ENOUGH " ... !!!!!    

People like ... THESE ...
make me want to ... CUSS ... !!!!!!!

But ....
These days i'm ... TRYING ...
to ... Rise uP .... ABOVE ....

These ... " Wannabee Thugs "

Who spread talk of ... " Dying "
cos' their words ... NEED ... !!!

....... " Refining " ....... !!!!!!

Things you ... Put Out ...
Come back son ...

.... " Don't Doubt " .... !!!!!

Now, that's a ... Fine Line ...
that's got ... Lots of ... CLOUT ... !!!

So think ... CAREFULLY ... !!!
before ... Running Your Mouth ... !!!!!

Fine Lines ... that I write ...
of ... Upsetting Designs ...
are ... NOT to ... Start Fights ... !!!

So ....
REMEMBER ... That Line ... !!!!!

They may cause ... Offence ...
and may cause ... Arguments ...

But ......
USE .... " Common Sense " ....
and ... REJECT ... " Violence " ... !!!

Keep a ... " Cool Head " ...
Like ... "Des Dekker" ... said ... !!!!!

Then ... Pick up a ... PEN
rather than ... Make Attempts ...
to bring me .... DISTRESS .... !!!!!!!

cos' you ...
want to ... SUPPRESS
A view i've expressed ...
that's left you ... UPSET ... !!!!!

That message is ... SENT ...
to those ... " Jealous Gents " ...
Who Think they're the ... BEST ...
at writing ... Fine Lines ...
with words that they ... Rhyme ...

Well ... CLEARLY ...
They're ... "BLIND" ... !!! ...
and ... Out of Their ... Mind ... !!!!!!

to think that ... Their Rhymes ...
are ... Better Than ... MINE ...  ?!? ...

Those causing us ... STRESS ... !!! ...
are those in ... " Governments " ... !!!!!

They ... Plan to ... DIVIDE ...
NOT ... see us ... " UNITE " ... !!!!!

THINK ... about that ...
before starting ... FIGHTS ... !!!!!

" Black On Black " .... crime ...
has been ... " Long Designed " ...

Don't You  ... think it's time ...  ?!?

We start to fight ... THEM ... ?!?!?
and their ... " Bogus Systems " ... !!!

That's where .....

I will ... END ...
This simple ... Poem ...  

cos' ...

Words in ... " Those Lines " ...
May ... cause me ... PROBLEMS ... !!!!!

Even though ....

Their JUST ... Rhymes
that flow ... and ... DEFINE
How the words ... I Transcribe ...

REALLY WALK ... !!! ...

.... " A Fine Line " ....
My words do walk one .....
(sorry its a bit long)

i wanna Jump, maybe i Could fly, atleast at this height ive already hit the sky, im sick of the drivebys, the drug flies, the beaming eyes, I'm sick of all this hussling, im sick of all the fuss im in, im sick of been who i am, so im sorry ma, n sorry pa, maybe now ill be a star, ill be up high, whats the change, u never noticed me anyways,

Im just living a dream to you it seems,
Im falling apart tearing at the seams,
Im breaking down im sorry world,
Today's the day i make you proud,

Look ma and look pa, dont u Understand who u are, my inspiration, my determination, been denied make my mind devide, ive got my good, and ive got my bad, u looked down when i was mad, id scare you, when i wasn't even bad, cuz u knew i was that sad, "i dont forget and i don't forgive", thats sometin u learn too live with, now it's something u have too deal with,

Im just living a dream to you it seems,
Im falling apart tearing at the seams,
Im breaking down im sorry world,
Today's the day i make you proud,

Walk a mile in my shoes and maybe you could see, what its like too be like me, gettin calls asking for deals, gettin fools waistin there meals, im dealing but cant provide my own oh so real, i feel like a peice of ****, I'm getting sick of living this, i just wanna shake your hand, but you've got venom on your gland, i wanna be the bigger man, ill walk away when I can, but if im tested here's my plan, pull my gun and end this fan.

Im just living a dream to you it seems,
Im falling apart tearing at the seams,
Im breaking down im sorry world,
Today's the day i make you proud,

Look im not saying imma end this ****, i may be down, but when im down my lyric is up, my verses untouched, you wouldn't think of such, but im so much, ill fill your cup, saying all that but, i know my lyric can be misread, just cuz im spitting these bars so honestly, and i know i got haters everywhere, thats part of life and part of the rap game, the walk too fame, u laugh now, but i impove with each move.

Im just living a dream to you it seems,
Im falling apart tearing at the seams,
Im breaking down im sorry world,
Today's the day i make you proud,

Im just living a dream to you it seems,
Im falling apart tearing at the seams,
Im breaking down im sorry world,
Today's the day i make you proud,

Now look into my eyes and u may see my reality, i suffer, i cry, i hate my god dam life, but i awake and thank god for my blessing, i wake up with determination, i wake up with constent fustration, and i know it sounds weak, but im on my knees, fighting a fight i cant win, the blank paper, my very own trash bin, i download my ****, so i wake up hussling, and you all say too not get so personal, but ill end with a wallet full,

Im just living a dream to you it seems,
Im falling apart tearing at the seams,
Im breaking down im sorry world,
Today's the day i make you proud,

At the age of 16 im walking down the road of recovery, from *******, and drugs, been hooked on cannabis and fun, you have a family? I have none, you have hope, im looking for some, i found a shimmering light, something too aim for, the rap career, and i know the struggle, haters, feens, losein what you think you need, but take what i have, you will be Takein the clothes upon my back.
erin kingham Sep 2014
A burden is the depression settling in around you like a rain cloud over only your head.
Walking from place to place soaking wet from the storm.
You are cold, you are sick, you are not okay.

2. A burden is the anxiety shaking your body until you feel like you might burst at the seams.
People can see that your hands won't stay still, and they stare.
You are trembling, you are scared, you are not okay.

3. A burden is the rumors your "best friend" has spread around the whole freshman class.
Secrets exposed to people you don't even know.
You are found out, you are alone, you are not okay.

4. A burden is the thought of suicide bouncing around your head.
The thought of death so good, yet so bad.
You are confused, you are conflicted, you are not okay.

5. A burden is reaching out for help and being punished.
No longer allowed to talk to those they told you would help.
You are lost, you are unprotected, you are not okay.

6. A burden is not a student who has experienced 1-5.
A  student who yearns so much to get better, and just keeps getting pushed down.
A student who is terrified, who is lonely, who is not okay

7. You called yourself a mental health professional.
But 8. would never deal with this student yourself.
and 9. called her a burden to the entire campus.

But the campus is unaffected, the campus is stable, and the campus is okay.

So did you mean the campus would be better off without me?

Or that you would?
True story about the counselor at my college.
Pale skin that's
so beautiful in comparison to the sunset.
Her eyes,
the perfect concoction of blue and green, stare away.

Deep in thought,
tears on her cheeks, a smile pasted on her face.
Although her scenery
is lovely, the thoughts she has are not.

Dark demons
swirl in her mind and pick her brain.
They travel through
her veins, and pull her apart at the seams.

On the inside,
she's going crazy; she is undeniably insane.
On the outside,
she is smiling just like you; she's unwillingly happy.
Kolko Jun 2015
Snorting, Coughing, Drowning the pain
when did I resort to such a shame?
I thought you changed but really
I've just been drained.
I struggled, I fought, thought I could
hold you back.
claws just dug too deep
you ripped my seams. I thought
his thread could hold me together
he's proven to be too weak. These
burning sensations will have to do, I'll just
keep on crushing, keep on pouring, keep on numbing
the rest of this **** is
only a dream,
cause I now have no seams.
Sometimes I feel numb
It's a strange, kind of sad feeling.
I can feel it in my heart.
And I know it's strange to say that I can feel my numbness,
but isn't it also strange to feel the itch of a phantom limb,
or the sorrow that comes with the excitement of something new,
only to realize it won't last forever.
It's really hard for me to control it,
I don't know why I can't.
If I could just rip the pain,
or lack thereof out of my chest I would.
In a heart beat,
no pun intended.
No one told me this could happen,
I thought there was simply happy and sad,
I didn't know there was anything that could fall in between.
All I want to do is to feel everything,
I want to love everyone.
I want to care about everything,
but it's so hard when this numbness keep sneaking back into my veins,
pulsing through my body once again.
Telling me to sleep it off,
or to stay home,
because it's easier to avoid than confront.
That's why I try so hard in conversations,
because trying is all I can do when it comes through.
This doesn't happen everyday,
it sometimes doesn't even happen every week,
but it's still tough.
Some days I am bursting at the seams with my love for the world.
Some days I care so much,
and I try so hard.
Then some days I cry,
for stupid reasons.
Because it's healthy,
because I need to.
Because sometimes the weight of the world is pressing against every bone in my body,
and I need to release it.
But some days I don't feel anything at all,
and it's a scary and foreign feeling.
Because I'm bursting at the seams,
and I only have so much thread to patch the holes,
in this worn, and stretched body.
So please just let me feel for a few more minutes,
I'd rather that than continue in this abyss of numbness.
Silent Thoughts Jul 2014
My life is a series of dashes dreams
Sewing up patches
To have them ripped at the seams
Jack Jenkins Apr 2016
If I ruled the world, I would be,
Not a benevolent leader, nor,
Would I be a tyrannical leader.

I would be something much unexpected and, hopefully, humble.

You see, I would be a quilt maker. Not of fabric and thread, though.
I would stitch the different cultures together, leaving each individual one unique, yet united by a common thread.

I would sit with my diplomatic needle and peaceful stitching and lead those whom hold contempt for one another see the other's perspective.

I would show them that,
The world isn't in black and white,
It's in full, high-definition color.
So let's celebrate unity,
Equality,
Individuality,
And uniqueness.

Because in the final chapter,
We all already rule the world.
It's up to us to thread ourselves to each other,
Or pull ourselves apart by the seams.
//On acceptance//
This poem got me a tie for first place in a poetry contest I entered. :)
ShamusDeyo Sep 2014
I saw a Man both Lean and Hard,
Who smiled at me with warm regard.
As I notice the Bulge within his jeans,
I stretch out my hand. to stroke his seams.
And see the Size of his Manhood Rise,
From Soft Flesh, before my eyes.
Then Kissing the Now Swollen Tip,
As it Slides between my trembling Lips.
Engulfed within, my Lips Now Part,
I feel the Beating of his Heart.
His sighs give rise to other tones
As I Hear the coming of His Moans
And he Collapses, Having Spent
His sweet Manhood now Content.
JMF '98
All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
Crumble Apr 2014
So please pretend you are happier to see me than most,
Because in my dreams the water is so much more inviting-
Please sew up the seams of your mouth
Because in my dreams I've not been Queen, nor you a King.

Please let me feel the song lyrics again
Because we're not frozen now, more fluid than ever -
Please leave stitches within the confines of your corners
Because in my dreams there is no more tether.

I'm not sleeping well tonight, he's still struggling in me.
He's crept in as puncturing doubts,
and my Othello traits may be marked a flaw for all of history.

So please pretend I am still your world
Because I'm paranoid and down (in dumps, on knees, on luck)
Please sew up what's left of our spark
Because in tonight's dreams, **our love she and you took.
Bad Luck Mar 2013
I scream to drown the noise, fight to hold my poise
Against this sonic wave that dismantles and destroys
This place that I called home… It’s all that’s left of what I own.
I fear I’m destined to the desert, or somewhere desolate to roam.
Tried to convince my brain this wasn’t real – that lies are all I feel.
I’m not sure why I fear this noise;
There’s nothing left for it to steal.
Yet I plug my ears and scream; tear the stitching from my seams
I find it difficult to sleep, and near impossible to dream.
I scream so hard it makes me sweat, and my skin begins to gleam
This heat turns smiles into tears, like water into steam.

My head begins to ache; my hands begin to shake
If I chose the wrong path, I made one hell of a mistake.
While my lungs still permit, I’ll keep their volume set on high,
Lift my head to the clouds, and scream at the sky.
I have yet to hear an answer, and while I’m not much of dancer
I learned some steps from Lady Luck in hopes to cure me of this cancer.

Now, I don’t believe in luck – but she still left me with something.
While we danced I took notice; the noise dulled slightly to a humming.
I looked back to Lady Luck – and I’m sure this wasn’t just a dream –
But she had vanished to the air, like water into steam.
I said “I don’t believe in luck.” She still left me something, though.
She said “You can’t predict the world – I assume this much you know…”
“But if a farmer plants a seed, in that spot a plant will grow.”


One day, my throat gave out.  For no longer could I shout.
And I don’t believe in luck, so I was simply left with doubt.
I cursed that lady’s words; told myself that she was crazy.
When something caught my eye…
There - at my feet - grew a daisy.
A daisy… In the desert…
And despite how bad my head hurt, I thanked God for Lady Luck.
I thanked God that I had met her.
For the noise I heard was her opposite. It was the presence of chance.
I learned the farmer can’t predict the world, but his seeds grow into plants.
So since my only choices are my actions... I think I’ll take today to dance.
"Bad Luck: In a Wakeful Contradiction" is now available on Amazon in paperback!

Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1691941182
Bryn May 2013
I bought a new swimsuit today,
pulling the material tight across my body.
Seams stretching,
Arms stretching as we bath in the free sunshine.
Bare feet, bare skin, and we bare our hearts as well.
You drink in the air, and I drink in you.
Too much, too fast.
Intoxication, infatuation-
found side by side in my thesaurus that sits on my shelf.
My shelf that holds all my swimsuits,
all with the tags still attached.
Natalie Przybyla Mar 2014
You answered just a little too fast.
It surprised me.
I haven't seen you in about a year,
And I am realizing I've missed you.
It surprised me.
The last time I saw you,
And the time before that,
You were intoxicated.
It surprised me.
I haven't seen you in about a year,
And I am realizing what you are to me.
It surprised me.
You are a dress without hems or seams.
I hardly know you but you are beautiful.
You are the bullet in the rotating cylinder of the gun to my head.
You dig through my skull and explode my amygdala.
And force me to love you.
You are the jam in the barrel as I pull the trigger.
I fell to the ground in realization:
You both killed me and saved me.
It surprised me.
Follow me on Twitter: @laniate

Tumblr: whateverdoubleloserr.tumblr.com
Kenn Rushworth Mar 2018
She sat by me, in her skirt, hand grenade green,
And an off-white blouse obscured by a jacket with dust in its seams,
Like leather, like elderly skin, like a crossword puzzle with half the letters filled in,
She sat by me and spilt her sentences and her tea:

She claimed her husband had been killed by a cabal of spiritualists,
Killed by a bull elephant in the streets of Nepal,
Killed by the seven plagues,
And never killed at all,

That he was once a number
Somehow both perfect and prime,
That he was Prime minister of the sea,
And independent of time,

That his bones were cracked marbles
Bought from a widow in Tennessee,
That his name continued to escape her,
But that he looked something like me,

Leaving I saw her wings drag her heavenward,
I saw her terrible wings,
As I stumbled and veered from concrete to tarmac
I heard the pavements start to sing:

“I was once a flowerbed,
My father was a field,
My mother was a source of light,
Before which all the people kneeled.”

Then lost in the eye of daytime and night,
Drawn to the moustache of a Spanish racketeer,
He was once abandoned by his books and his babies
In the boot of a broke-down cavalier,

His pasts and ideas caught up to him,
And gripped him by his belt and his teeth,
His pasts gripped him in quiet of his nightmares,
And slashed his arms in the street,

Visions shook me by the bleeding palm,
Her terrible wings now pinpricks for the moon,
Visions shook me as deities died,
With eyes like a card-trick and fingers like doom,

Then stuck in the endless space between words;
She sat by me, in her skirt, hand grenade green;
Stuck in the endless space between words;
And an off white blouse obscured by a jacket with dust in its seams...
SassyJ Jul 2017
Strange birds roaming in grime
aligned to the ghosted tribes
sensualised in sensibility rites
transcribed to the ugly and pretty
in a petty embellished unheard world
of lathered tenders and searches
tamed and tanned, turned and timed
in invisible cracks of enstranged seams

Strange birds roaming in grime
on remnants of all there ever was
unloved in circus of undone pasts
transcribed to the ugly and pretty
evolved in an enlightenment trance
in hallways with all the little ghosts
Stroked and shocked, shamed and shunned
in invisible cracks of enstranged seams

Strange birds roaming in grime
on a heart where no love exists
lying tethered fields of the other side  
transcribed to the ugly and pretty
whilst perfectly creating a symphony
of all the beauty that lives and exists
wrapped and warped, wounded and wasted
in invisible cracks of enstranged seams
Feels great to be single, the world is so beautiful. Heart breaks are painful and takes time to find the real oneself
wandabitch Oct 2012
In the night, those shadows come alive. So little do i know about this heavy doubt.
Cold wind biting the heart. Trying to figure out where I've been.
Dark winter pulls me closer, now theres a place i'm thinking into the air.
A voice calling, "Who knows but that which seems omitted today, waits for tomorrow?"

Nothing is as it seams, just as beauty leans from the earth in a sunset--a harp for the soul to sing.
But You are life and you are the veil.
Beauty is eternity gazing at her self
But you are eternity and you are the mirror.
And if you want to know truth retire of solving riddles.

We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way,
begin no day where we have ended another day;
and no sunrise finds us where sunset left us.
Even while the earth sleeps we travel,
back into dreams.

Ay, my bow rests on my chest.
There is the flame spirit among a starry mountainside.
Oh it was but yesterday we met in a dream. You watched as I built a ship towards your shore.

My spirit goes wandering upon the wind, off to the desert sands, deep beneath the ocean's sound.
I am the gypsey and the fortuneteller, liken an honest thief. No I'm the myth builder and dream master.

who laughs with me when I destroy,
the sand castles of my innocence. The
sun warming my back just as the wicked, and drawing my image locked in a shadow.

Here the soul a battlefield, where
reason and passion become one.
they are the sails of my seafaring soul.

There I found the naked body of my dreams, in silent sleep my spriit walked the path.
I am the star-gazer who feels the power of endlessness, Aware of timelessness and
neverending space. The love in me still
present amidst the scattered fires that
burn in black ink.

Just as the caveman draws his fears on lost walls, speaking of misfortune and
treasures gallore.  A fantom ghost in Hade's Fate.
Now my ship wanders forever on a pearlous course but never sinking.
Heart of Silver May 2018
Close your eyes

Your world, not extending
beyond the soft quilt under
your skin, unending


Soft ripples of cloth, and picturesque seams
Nothing here but
You, me, the sky, and soft dreams

I'll reach up and take the stars from the sky
If only to lay them at your feet
to place them in your hands
to bring light into those glazed eyes
or give a glow to a world so bland

and each one would be folded
into a beautiful origami castle
I, the lord, and you, the vassal
Or perhaps me as the king
and you as a queen, whichever
My gentle playmate.. which one is better?

I'm a majestic creature of the sky
You're an empty-faced child on a quilt
Each star shall be used as a stepping stone
so I might meet you in the place I built


Let us meet, as lovers, or
at least equals
on this starry floor
And your body falls into each soft fold
It's here, right here, that I can hold
you close, keep you safe and warm
so you, from the rest of the world
I'll withhold

Consider this a "romantic poem".. but not about me! Actually, this is a story I've sort of written. :)

Hmm, let me try to describe it. A little girl living in a world all her own, a world that's nothing more than an empty quilt with an endless sky. Above her, lives a sort of "sky-creature" and he happens to be in love with her, so he builds her a castle of stars.

— The End —