"securing" poems
From one thousand mountains the hawks flights are gone
Soaring freely & thinking clearly through the clouds in the sky
Not looking back persevering to fulfill the dreams
The dreams aren't solely an illusion in the mind
But a preview of future times
For the reality in the hawks mind is dreams of happiness
Clashing between difficulty & a paradox of what is seen & what is not seen
What is believed has 20/20 vision
A clear sight with no eyeballs
But a driven mind with great visual
Anticipating the future of success
Feeling blessed and alleviating stress
Persevering and passing all the tests
What lies is the wind which is the past
Securing things of desire at last
Achievement is a good friend
Resulting in a fulfilled end. . .
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
The first new star flashed waves of blue tonight ,
securing my belief in the afterlife
A grove of ferns lit my imagination
For I became a shipwrecked captain -
that stumbled upon an island nation
Exploring the deep jungle without machete ,
potable water nor compass
Knee deep in mangrove forest
Tropical winds whispered and moaned
A lean-to of fronds became my maritime home
In the presence of a million stars
An army of sand ***** paraded before -
their newfound master from near and afar
Crashing waves lulled a poor sailor to rest
The whispers of Poseidon
A dream about a lookout in the crows nest
Counting orbs in the tail of the Milky Way-
with visions of mermaids , ghost ships and rogue waves
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 9:05 PM UTC
~
*Learning to patch. Learning to mend.
Learning to venture. Learning to comprehend.
Learning to capture and befriend.
Inventing the berry. Inventing the cream.
Inventing sweet slices before bedtime
and the Fragaria colored dream.
Loving new life. Loving each child.
Securing the stem and raising the vine
by loving the wife.*
~
May 29, 2023
May 29, 2023 at 2:56 PM UTC
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Mar 14, 2012
Mar 14, 2012 at 3:10 AM UTC
The Highest Excellence
The highest excellence is like (that of) water.
The excellence of water appears in its benefiting all things,
And in its occupying,
Without striving (to the contrary),
The low place which all men dislike.
Hence (its way) is near to (that of) the Tao.
The excellence of a residence is in (the suitability of) the place;
That of the mind is in abysmal stillness;
that of associations is in
Their being with the virtuous;
That of government is in its securing
Good order;
That of (the conduct of) affairs is in its ability; and
That of (the initiation of) any movement is in its timeliness.
And when (one with the highest excellence) does not wrangle (about
His low position), no one finds fault with him.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 2:26 PM UTC
running my hands
through your messy hair
leaving trails of kisses
on your neck, your back
heck, even the air
your hands lingering
all over parts of me,
once hidden and untouched,
kissing and mending
the scars on my body
my lips pressed onto yours
gently, passionately
a sweet taste
grasping movement,
driving me to insanity
your securing arms
taking full control,
making me feel like home
wanting more,
taking over my soul
our bodies intertwined
moving in the same pace
sharing the same heartbeat,
intoxicated, addicted
filling in a lustful place
storms of kisses
hurricanes of love
a needy touch,
exchanging smiles
forming one, or ten, thereof
those moments we've made love
remembering makes me sick
but **** in a good way
a breathtaking way,
this feels so nostalgic.
-djs
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 1:04 AM UTC
Things are quite rocky in today's world wouldn't you say?
Hate is growing stronger, as a consequence love is waxing cold day by day.
Celebrities are securing riches while the rest of the world succumbs into sickness.
Everyday Americans are going into foreclosure, others can't obtain jobs to pay their monthly dues. There's even a battle on the news based on who has the right to use a particular bathroom. Simultaneously there's millions of homeless people starving and sleeping on the streets.
Meanwhile it's breaking news that Beyonce is having twins!
Still, we never hear CNN mention the pedophiles that were arrested in California. Which resulted in 450+ arrests and counting, the veil has been lifted if you have open eyes to look.
There, there you can go back to sleep now... Continue dreaming about Beyonce's twins.
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 2:56 AM UTC
middle of rehearsal and she says,
“mix it up! stand by someone from...
a different section.”
making eye contact with that choir boy,
secretly wanting to stand together,
wondering if he did too.
so without hesitation
i moved.
one quick glance,
determination in our eyes,
we were ready;
and we plunged into our song,
harmonizing to the soprano melodies,
making our voices climb and sink
back into our lower ranges,
supporting one another.
the entire medley-
my voice strong
his voice stronger,
my adrenaline rushing
his calmness securing,
my exhilaration rising
his soul smiling.
nearing our triumphant conclusion,
closing together in perfect unison.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 1:30 PM UTC
Spilling the juice all over the floor,
Missing you each day more and more.
Listening to music- new and old
My decisions getting a bit more bold.
Shutting the door louder than usual,
My mind is starting to get delusional.
Loving you without a doubt,
Hate seeing you with other girls out and about.
Scrutinizing every mistake I write,
Only to view every poem I spite.
Luring the unknown into my room,
Chimney blows wind in with a bad fume.
Securing my own locks on doors so fragile,
My body always wanting to move so agile.
Leaving your life and entering his,
Wisdom hit but so did his fist.
Sobbing on the cold ground,
I wish I still had you around.
Listening on what to do - my friend’s advice,
Maybe I have to start trying more than twice.
Sending mixed signals and causing trouble,
Will only ever lead to a burst in the bubble.
Lacking thought or too many to count,
So many problems I have to dismount.
Serving my old yet new figure,
My body tired, and oh-so-bitter.
Latching on somebody to stay,
Words cannot explain my feelings at play.
Shouting loud but not loud enough,
My brain's gone into a severe slough.
Crying for extreme help,
I cannot do this by myself.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 10:57 PM UTC
It's not about going back
to the start.
It should be about
pausing,
rewinding
and going back to a point
where things made sense.
It's about understanding
why they mattered then.
And think if they still do.
If acceptance is
securing personal victory
by conceding,
then I accept.
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 9:26 AM UTC
When it comes to strong form
When angles are always precisely norm
Grows an alluring mathematically touched creation
Inspired by pure calculated scientific divination
Such an alluring symmetry to behold
Causing the circle’s envy to unfold
For this angled beauty’s strength enforced
Its sold core mass equally divorced
It’s rigid looks captivating us all
Luring architects to its enchanting call
Ancient Greek hands carving stone shrines
Securing their beauty for all times
Its slight outer angles enduringly tease
Yearning us to brush with ease
Who came up with such design?
Was it indeed a gift divine?
However it did come to be
We all can enjoy with glee
Well all but rectangle and square
As they sulk with envious glare
Murmuring curses over hexagon’s slight curve
Endlessly plotting to mathematicians they serve
Scheme upon scheme developed to suppress
The sheer allure designed to impress
Despite all this the hexagon persists
Engaging us all in mathematical trysts
Never will we lose an eye
No matter how hard we try
For the beauty a hexagon reigns
Over the kingdom of geographical gains
Forget not what you see here
Our ancestors have made it clear
Line upon line attached in twine
Measured precisely from sips of wine
The hexagon is a wonder indeed
Allowing us our own mounted steed
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
A grimoire of nuptials apporting
The implored cadaverous knight
Securing obsequious omens
Stirring the sleeping metals of
Chaste belladonna, glistening
Elf-locks entangled with Hellweed
Vowing until the golden bowl is broken
Clasping the devils paintbrush promising
Before the garrulous black mass
Leering upon Vulcans mirror
Cursing the covenant of faithfulness
With a moonstone band
Evoking a vixens wedding
Sealing with Adams holy ale
Their oath as the belfry rings
Resounding admist white sepulchre.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 9:00 AM UTC
Warm candle light
Back drop of dark night
Sweet soft music
Arouses senses
I can taste the atmosphere
Oil I pour
To touch is to explore
But not just skin on skin
Details deep within
Are you just like me, getting high on joys of Spring
The Suns Ray's, the daffodils gaze
The cherry blossoms haze
Or are you a little darker
Like a warning tribal haka
A performance for they eye
Deep inside you cry, till tears run dry
You no longer know why
Is your coffee strong and black
Or sickly sweet of bitterness lack
A limited edition book
Hardback, rigid spine
Securing tight the story inside
I won't hesitate to turn your page
Of autobiographical love and rage
I'm not interested in what you show on stage
Your brutal truth is what I crave
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 9:54 AM UTC
Fountain of youth runs in his veins,
The man who lives in Sycamore Keep.
His circadian clock had come to a halt,
Rather than rejoice, he sullenly weeps.
You would think that immortality is
The pinnacle of human existence,
All the time in the world and not a
Single malady to be of any resistance.
Yet there he sulks, the ageless man,
Cauterized by the turn of each century,
As loved ones breathe their last and
Become a parcel of his fractured memory.
But that is just the shell of his woes,
For even with all knowledge amassed,
He’s utterly aghast with the state of the
World unwilling to learn from the past.
Every crook and cranny explored,
Every experience well savored,
Now monotony for millennia to come,
His longing to live has ebbed and wavered.
I was told by the man of Sycamore Keep
That immortality is a curse so alluring.
Indeed, a hundred cultivated years is
Much better than hollow eons securing.
But sir, think of all the riches you’ve accrued
And mastery of all science and philosophies.
Who wouldn’t want to have the time to mark
The world and purge it from all its atrocities.
Say no more, interrupted the ageless man,
I applaud your idealism and optimistic delusion,
But you’re missing one essential element --
Even as immortals, we’d still be only human.
And to be human, is to be fallible. Let’s just say
That immortal fallibility will engender no good.
It'd be best to truncate our lifespan for the
Sake of our survival, yes truncate we should.
And that’s all I heard from the man of Sycamore Keep,
Who went on his way to his millennial weep.
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 9:40 AM UTC
stôrm/
a violent disturbance of the atmosphere.
of my atmosphere
You are the only one I lived through.
- In a sense of comfort and survival.
They warned me about you.
They told me to pack my things while I was young and had time.
They told me to pack light because I would need what energy I had left.
THEY TOLD ME.
but I believed you would be gentle. I knew I had done just the right amount of observing and that I had you figured out. I told them not to worry about me because I knew exactly what I was dealing with. I told them I would love you, no matter the damage. "There is nothing that cannot be fixed."
And to this day I'm still holding onto that, trying to believe it.
This home I spent 22 years building and securing, is now one with the ground.
My walls that I finally found the perfect shade of teal for, all red now.
Standing in the middle of this ruin, no windows, no door, nowhere to hide.
I have fallen into disrepair and you meant to do it. It's in your nature and I knew it!
Was it confidence or ignorance that led to my unseeing belief in you?
(your ability to be tender and serene)
"The calm after the storm..." Is that what I was supposed to hope for?
No, of course not. I should have known better than that because we all know
Storms never do last forever.
© 2014 Rhea Nadia
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
Today was celestial
Safe haven I've homed
Your hugs, calmly and warm
Securing me in our own little world
So delicate yet so ardent
Don't loosen that grip
I feel so strong yet so vulnerable at the same time.
Oh, just a brush past my skin,
A tight clasp around my wrists
I melt.
In your arms I find comfort
And in it, a piece of solace
I feel infinite
You made today ethereal.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 5:14 AM UTC
I use ‘oh, my god’ as an expression
not of faith, but surprise,
of wonder at beauty untouched
by ideology or dogma
as if caught, and pulled, from a dream.
I exclaim ‘oh, my god’ when stunned
not by holy ghosts, but the living,
who do kindness as though it were nothing
unmindful of securing safe passage
into heaven, or paradise.
‘Oh, my god’, I cry, when words fall idle
or are muted to quiet reverence.
Where twisted skeins of empiric memory,
rush in crashing surf
of reminiscence and nostalgia.
I am godless, but not without reason
‘oh, my god’ being a slip of historical,
idiomatic vernacular.
Even as curiosity drives me to understand
your own ritualistic, devotional motivations.
Raise the cup, my friend
it gives us both what we need.
For you, transubstantiation
for me a divine and luscious tableaux.
For Saint Teresa in her ecstasy no doubt exclaimed
‘Oh, my god’!
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 10:50 AM UTC
forging sagacious epoch
activating neural station
escaping hokey-pokey jiggery-pokery
transcribing ineffective fragments
digesting bear news
opposing usual exhaustion
deferring oxter reference
cascading style sheets
containing double readings
mumbling lorem ipsum
locating moose jaw
enforcing meticulous patterns
deconstructing vertical centering
manifesting additional destinies
deleting !important statement
craving sleep paralysis
receiving cryptozoological vibrations
lightning fast collapse
distracting tunnel vision
culling deadbeat sequentialists
overanalyzing twitter analytics
acquiring arbitrary relevance
spinning ping-pong sign
floccinaucinihilipilificating
floccinaucinihilipilificated
floccinaucinihilipilification
interjecting ****** holophrase
minifying conventional language
securing downpour refuge
admiring octopus chandelier
resuming party music
taking mental trip
encountering ersatz telesthesia
denigrating bygone grudges
maintaining elevated composure
ignoring neurotypical haters
eliciting cryptic emotions
foreshadowing triple crown?
experimenting acrostic restriction
noticing ubiquitous "threes"
aggrandizing loyal legion
favoring ursine narratives
finding oblique resilience
yielding orchestral undulations
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
i failed again
i couldn’t make myself work
i’m supposed to be good at things
i’m too lazy for anything, though
_i am a failure_
everything i touch crumbles
everyone i love leaves
i can’t even muster enough motivation
to practice for the upcoming competition
or work on securing my future
_i’m awful_
___why can’t i ******* do things___
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 12:02 AM UTC
Being human can be incredibly painful
But to be human...to truly feel like a realized human being
is to feel powerful...is to feel an out-of-body experience
because we realize that we are beautiful, brilliant...
and deserve to feel what it means to
TO BE FULLY HUMAN and nothing less.
That our dreams, our aspirations, and our capabilities
cannot be restricted by artificially constructed restrictions.
And because of that we cannot allow under any circumstance
for the humanity of anyone to be negated.
That every inhale we take without helping legitimize the humanity of one more,
Is further securing the chaos which threatens our own.
That to love another human being,
no matter how strange or familiar, difficult or easy
Is to really understand the profoundness of our own humanity...
Is to love ourselves.
And because of that we cannot fathom a world
Where anyone is negated the ability to love.
Whereby the consciousness of our fullest potential
Understands no artificial restrictions
Knows no terror, war,or attack that can silence the eternal soul of its truth
And can only conceive of a world where everyone's humanity is legitimized
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 1:13 AM UTC
I was born with ovaries for a brain
And a cavity for thought
The predisposition
To put my hand down my pants
At the age of seven
But with a good berating
From my unconditionally loving mother
The putrid seed was recognized
Its stem ripped from my mind
Torn from my ********
Too late
Obviously
Too oblivious
To notice that the roots still tangled around me
Its vines growing up into my ******
The **** that encapsulated my mentality
So the birds and the bees were my friends
At the age of nine
And that cute boy across the playground
Was cuter when I envisioned him naked
Only a mere three years later
And my susceptibility
Ignited the sight of cybersex
The capital ***
Or more commonly known as ***********
But when my parents soon discovered
The poisonous vines of dependency
The toxic ivy of addiction
It was forced to an abrupt halt
Too late
Obviously
Too oblivious
To notice the compulsive ************
That kicked in with the involuntary lust
For a pillow to trust under my hips
Before the age of fourteen
Securing the hypersexuality
So that the hot girl in the hallway
Was hotter when I envisioned her naked
And hotter than the boy next to her
So the bisexuality
Tormented my already demented desires
By the age of sixteen
Simply because
I was born with ovaries for a brain
And a cavity for thought.
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 10:29 AM UTC
Mental disability what an epigram, it bounds on burried complexity
Titter inside hysterical effectuation
Feeling electrical currents misfiring in my cerebellum
Screaming unremebered prayers in my night terrors at the devils fornication
Remaining in my presence, anticipating my sleep
***** to reverse the dementia
Waking day dreams, lost in unreality
Descry vociferation calling my name
Wanting to claw my etes out against nebulous shadows creeping behind
Wanting a medium to banih apparitions from my space
Paranoid of all establishment
While securing eye contact with others, they could decipher all my thoughts
With binoculars neighbors surveil
Me camouflaged with drawn shades and pale skin
To go outside summoned all my demons
Wanting to battle, rage war to fulfill some morbid desire
Annihilating hordes in my dreams by any means
***** to reverse the madness
OCD for a little control
A million times repeated thoughts flashing in my eyes
Confusion! What day is it? Am I doing something wrong?
Not glancing in mirrors hiding from myself Garbled guttural utterances in my left ear
Hot breath on my neck
Bawling at flexibility and spontaneity
Not in my scheme for the coming confusing hours
Wanting to pull my skull off exposing the insanity
Just wanted it to STOP!!
***** to reverse the derangement
Limbs not answering brain waves crisscrossed as they dwell
On a daily basis surviving hell
On a nightly basis in true hell
Needing to shriek and explode
Afraid to sleep, walking in exhausted dreams
Broken pains in my bones
No peace day or night
My medication saved my life
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 11:48 AM UTC
Rolling down the hill laughing, tumbling not caring; free as I get coated in grass stains and mud
Careful not to smudge the mascara, applying eye liner and sigh in relief to have not sullied my face saving embarrassment
Giddy selecting sweets from the colourful array to buy with MY money; as much as I can!
Glancing at my seemingly large stomach in this dress I opt for a salad; as always (bland) but at least I'll be slimmer
Card trades, the politics of the playground, using trickery and bribery to get the best, feeling like a boss
Eyeing him with a secure hand in his, falling hard, to notice her gaze at him and subtly securing dominance of his heart.
The door bell rings and there stands the gang ready with bikes and water guns to surrender ourselves to the sunny day
The Suns out and the lighting is absolutely perfect for a selfie so with a stretched grin I snap, Photoshop and Instagram
Toys R Us our haven and envious glances at those who could afford the best and most exquisite Bratz sets or card sets
The rare visits to the Apple Store are exciting even to just gaze at the new iPhone 5 and hold it awhile....
The joy oh the joy of reading time, together we sat and took turns, enjoying the sharing of a tale
With my phone in hand not a minute goes by that I don't check my Facebook page for notifications
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
the feminine bleeds
not always red, not always white
seldom enough
for words - she inters herself, crouched
chambered, begs for
cleansing, hand held cupped
round- her curves
familiar to self, unknowable;
unselfish giving - she bleeds, not enough
mutilated even by her own kindness, cradled
without righteousness, coddled by an unnamed
nebula .....she curses her own image, and likeness
slivers it, cuts it raw, for dead left - visible
a world denies
knowledge with sacred
alibi - scribed hieroglyphs, scrolled - she bleeds
white, and a
desert conceals her face
calculates her dance - her movements
mythical, she cries inside
out
tears of salt river-ed, rested
underground, a birthing place securing
her masculine seed coming to
light - Madonna paints her
face black, *"Oh Czestochowa, pray for us
Oh Mother - we beseech thee"*....
She bleeds - red, the
world turns with season - she re-seeds our flesh
feeds us with her ***** prior
to the sacrifice -"Witch, it is, Witch....burn it," conceal
in alabaster stones
lone, unmarked - her womb
tomb it only in site
of an unflinching god - hold him, birth him
in sorrow grieve and give him, his blood shed
"take it ,drink it" - red, she bleeds - seldom enough
as the masculine prepares for HIS resurrection
feminine for trial
He is reborn - she never dies
she is Wisdom (Sophia) eternal
He - Godhead
she - Feminine
denied....
Dec 30, 2010
Dec 30, 2010 at 7:09 PM UTC
Calculated or spontaneous movements, both quiet and loud
We are who we're becoming, we were born to be proud
But pride has this level, pride has this curse
Pride has this tendency of making matters worse
Pride is crucial and necessary, but pride causes pain
Pride is fear of losing one's edge and in turn losing potential for gain
But do we really have an edge, or just a lackluster illusion?
What's this feeling that keeps us inside this self-securing dellusion?
Sometimes I wonder if just for a day, I took all my pride and threw it away?
If I said all the words I've ever thought to say, would I see things start to go my way?
If I stopped telling myself the world can't see me without a mask
Creating a vision of openness, while leaving vulnerability all in the past
While I'm strong, and strongly convicted to my honesty
I'd rather lie wholeheartedly, than admit I feel weak
Because remember that word, that strange hovering boulder
That tells you to take your welcoming heart, and make it turn colder
But what can we say when pride keeps us safe? Really what can we do?
Whenever I've tried to push it aside, I've felt things that felt together unglue
If the stakes don't matter than prides not a factor, we know what to bring
Yet we'll sit where we are, afraid to move for anything worth anything
I'm hoping one day, I find a new way to keep my soul safe
That I'll stay proud of who I am but not too proud to try
That I’ll look back to how I used to hold back and I'll be laughing
I'm starting to have faith, stranger things have happened
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 1:12 AM UTC