"sedating" poems
You managed to horribly fail every test
Yet you bore the honorary family crest
Until you abandoned me
As friendship isn't free
Leaving me incapacitated
In the infernal infirmary
You had only exacerbated
My own gory purgatory
But I want to see the end of the story
Though it's not going well
Carrier pigeons bring messages of your progress
By ******** on my head
I solve the problem
By staying in my bed
When all I see is red
From all the blood we bled
There was a deep connection
Crossed with a ****** infection
You were so fundamentally friendly
Was it just for the drugs we were blending?
Now I just have nightmares of your life ending
And ponder the value of the time we were spending
Your spirit animal is a coyote
Mine an exploding car
My fragile heart is imploding
From all the black tar
Coming from your lips like the needle
Rushing through my veins until I'm fetal
From your sedating voice
I heard an invading choice
Live alone or die alone
The dog gnawed the bone with it's clone
I just want to hear you're doing fine
So I can stop feeling so **** guilty
And I don't have to hear about you again
For my heart has been untamed
When I feel this constant pain
From a friendship down the drain
There is no peace to be attained
For the friendly fire in my brain
Aug 24, 2017
Aug 24, 2017 at 5:57 AM UTC
At the age of nine he wanted to die
which was something I couldn't understand
because I knew our mother loved us.
desperation so
doctors drill diagnostic decisions down his throat.
I pray he won't choke on the
shallow pills he has to swallow
hollow dreams he has to follow.
Sedating's seductive for families who can afford it.
The Founding Fathers have forged my future,
they've mocked my freedom and cashed in on humans.
America likes to revive our problems with the quickest fix, money solves it.
My brothers become another lab rat
to solidify the fact that these pills are legit.
Simply because his name appears on a list.
Ignoring the fact his original pain was nothing but a claim
against all of this cultural ********
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
Lips pressed gently
again soft
sweetly scented skin
the first flush
of spring
begging to be taken
it the tasting
of his kiss
teeth slowly grazing
untouched flesh
teasing the stone with tongue
from wetted peach
juice warm and sticky
drips from eager excited lips
in rivulets of pure unsweetened
pleasure
tongue moves faster
as mouth *****
hard
drinking deep each droplet
inhaling with each intake of breath
the waft of summer meadows
where lovers lay
and shared forbidden fruits
from scrumpied trees
as here
now
I taste once more
the heady bouquet of love
wrapped up in lustful
decadence
of greed and avarice
your pain my pleasure
your gift my gain
as spittle
from my or' excited tongue
mixes callously
with the spiced perfume
of your open petals
sedating only my thirst
but
not
my
hunger...
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 10:17 PM UTC
October 31. Halloween
A Celebration celebrated worldwide for children and adults to dress as whatever they desire and are free of judgement... of condemnation.
A night where the freaks hidden inside every 'normal' person comes out to play either;
commando,
or a zombie,
a damsel in distress or
might i add a naughty little schoolgirl..
An open invitation to ask strangers for candy,
a game to see who can collect the most......
Halloween is just a game that is just full of surprises aren't they?
Oh! Halloween is a night everyone looks forward too.....
the dead included
We like games too.
We, the ones who linger between realms awaiting trial.
waiting to be stationed into our eternal home a pick between;
a forever scorching, fire blazing hellhole or
forever be glistened by the almighty light.
On Halloween night,
we the dead are free to wonder back into the world we begged to leave
whilst upon the stars the judge laughs upon his throne at us,
knowing all to well we despise this place.
Mockery is a well known game,
played by many, deceived so many.
Even mortals shamelessly mock the dead and tease us with life
irony is they live for this very night
to dress up and be someone/something they desire the most.....
the things they so often remind thy selves are;
abnormal,
freaks,
an abomination..
For god so loved the world,
he gave his only son,
to prove that he can and could give and take life as he pleases
We 'freaks' learnt that the hard way..
Every Halloween the Gods are at play and so are the humans,
but never us.
We the ones the mortals fear
And the Gods personal entertainment.
These humans wonder off into the parade whilst we linger in the depths of the darkness
He told us as punishment we are to watch them parade about us
and celebrate the day of the dead,
He who looks down upon us cursed us.
To have a sirens call-
to lure them in,
sedating them with sweet nothings,
BUT only one rule applied to us all:
NO touching the one thing we freaks' all lacked; SOULS
That's their sick,game
to tease us by gifting us to caress the mortals ever so slightly but nothing more....
'SADISM' is what we call the game in which Hades and the Gods play;
and us being the pawns.......
Well not anymore.
Not this time
No! tonight we will purge on whatever comes our way,
Sedating them with the curse of a sirens call.......
the one that the mighty gods has gifted us with,
Tonight we feast on what the humans are celebrating; DEATH.
No more hide and seek games, with the humans
No more cat and mouse games with the Judges
its our turn to give a good scare!
Tonight we play our own game,
We call it 'PEEK-A-BOO'!
'cause tonight we'll will give them one HELL of a Spooky night,
'cause we're coming for you!!!!!
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 7:44 AM UTC
My eyes saw her
And my heart longed for her
And my lips wanted a taste
Of her seething venom
She was a cup
I didn’t want to pass
Without having a sip
That opened a flesh wound
Only she could nurse
Because it could never heal
And any one I’d ****
For her to be mine and mine alone.
On the drags ov the black wine
Brood from African matured raw dark vines
Bitter sweet and sedating like ecstasy
She anesthetized me
Leaving me numb
To the wound she had inflicted
Upon my heart of flesh,
When I let my
Shield down
And left her sizzling arrow
Piercing my heart
Like a thorn for the holy one
Her arrow inoculated a venom
That enfeebled my trembling frame
As I bled love unafraid of bleeding to death!
I looked deeply Into Her dark eyes
My vision impaired,
High from the venom
And partial hemorrhage.
I said slowly
“What is love? Tell me please…”
She smiled and replied…
“I can’t tell you,
I can only show you
Cuz you have prayed.
Love is a tourniquet
To your heart a wound
I can nurse it for you
That’s why it hurts
If you are wounded
By someone without skill
Some wounds never heal
But fear not
For my love is not lethal
And leaving you might be fatal,
Words can never be love
Only actions can be
Thoughts are useless
If never said or expressed
So don’t be afraid
I will nurse your wound
Because mine is deeper than yours”
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
We sit together on low whipping cream white plastic chairs,
opposite over a fake fiber board table
covered with cheap and flavorful fair.
The aroma of chili, coconut milk, tea, and greasy noodles fills my mouth and nose
and above us the deafening pattering and smacking
of heavy rain drops landing hard
against the Plexiglas roof fills my vacant ears.
The night set's in as cold and comfortable
as a fattened fish
at the bottom of an icy lake
and with the sun fully gone now
and the square or street outside empty
the Asian owner opens the garage style glass door,
its metal tracks holding milky white paper orbs full of light above our heads
and he tells us we can smoke a single cigarette in here
safe from the cold and biting rain.
Your eyes watch thousands of minuscule silver streams flow
between the network of cobble stones
like tiny rivers raging mercilessly,
violently,
into the darkened abyss of the storm drain
falling hopelessly over its silent brink.
But my eyes only watch you
with the constant sound of the downpour
sedating my sickly mind
I watch your slender hand
lead up finger tips
to the cold white rolling paper
watch it settle comfortably
between the rosy red of your plump and postured lips
they let back out curved and milky clouds
reminiscent of the sweet swaying of your hips.
I crack a sincere but tired smile,
and put the price and tip under my plate.
We both stand and stretch
and head off slowly, huddled warmly
knowing its been a good night
and finally i feel happy
and i can tell you do too
as a smile spreads slowly across your face
like a tired cat stretching for a long days rest.
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 11:23 PM UTC
Snuggled in Downey, five-hundred thread county, creating,
in brushed cotton flannel she's sewn his panels, he's waiting
when down in the subway he sits on a nail
and jumping up, empties his cup on the rail
the coppers subdue him, and drag him to jail, parading.
Stripped to the drawers for a search they discovered the flannel
panel
when asked of the man who had frozen his can in the English
channel
he gave them the name of his seamstress and then
discovered that inside the panel was penned,
a note from the woman who goes by Sangwen de Lemanel:
"If you find this it means you have bust loose the seams of your winsulation
come back to my shack, I'll be happy to tack without hintsulation
of course, if by chance, you'd be wanting some scones
while I fix up your pants, you can warm up your bones
and I'll double the thickness and strength for your own consolation".
Though the note in the pants, at a glance, hardly worth the debating
somewhat cryptic in places, suggested the seamstress was dating
could it be that this maiden with needle and thread
was hiding an inmate who'd recently fled
it was suspect, her stitch-work, a cover: abetting and aiding.
Intent upon solving the case of the note in the panel
Sherlock Dannel rode down to the seamstress and brought her some flannel
"I've sewn quilts, without guilt, for the queen, rest her soul,
and the king wore my hats, though his head had a hole
but the rest of my work will attest to my innocence, Dannel".
And Sherlock, so taken with Sangwen, whose voice was sedating
missed the gist of her kiss, but the point of this pistol elating
"See I'm really quite good with a needle and thread
but in cases left traces of blood on the dead
when my needles were shed from drawers of the bores who were waiting."
The man was immersed, but well versed in the curse of the smitten
he saw that this seamstress was shrewd and her verses well written
and hiding her needles and notes could avail
in busting loose criminals down at the jail
and if he had his way, on this day, in the pen she'd be knittin'
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 11:39 PM UTC
Serene like an oceanic horizon
Striking like the fiery waves,
The essence of a longing affection,
that melodious thrill of an adventure my heart craved;
Delicate scents and gentle wind,
With the soft sunlight on cerulean, grinning,
Soothe my mind
yet left me anticipating
the dramatic secrets you hide;
But everything came along with your magical shore
Made my belief stronger about this quest
I've been wanting to explore;
Whatever happens, I want no regrets
I don't care if you have a stormy tide awaiting
If it's a charming masquerade, it is divinely sedating;
But at the end of the day,
you still remain an entrancing enigma,
Like in the unknown depths of the sea,
You are the unacquired jewels,
So tempting for the ones, fiercely passionate and distinctly greedy;
You make me so happy with
mere the knowledge of your existence,
Yet it turns back to utter despair,
Cause I despise the fact
That you are there
with all your charismatic abstract,
but not mine yet;
Jun 19, 2021
Jun 19, 2021 at 2:28 PM UTC
*"Every existing thing is born without reason,
prolongs itself out of weakness,
and dies by chance." - Sartre*
What is easier, life or death?
Some people think this is a simple question.
And I'm sure for some it is, a straight cut to one side or the other.
We know so much about human life and so very little about death.
Some would call it an "easy" way out from the constant struggle of existence.
But how many of you here on this world wide web are truly embracing your struggle today?
Are you following "the plan"?
A plan?
Birth, growth, assimilation, "education", indoctrination,
out of the womb and into the classroom,
graduate and start your career,
retire and die.
Isn't everyone proud.
I mean, think of all those soothing, sedating systems
put into place to make your life easier to avoid.
Much like the screen you stare at now.
I've, as they say, "suffered" from depression my entire life,
and as one of those chosen people,
I'd like to debunk the myth.
The loom of death breeds a lust for life
like nothing else I've ever encountered.
You appreciate every little nuance
and at the end of the day
you're grateful.
Unlike so many "happy" people.
But you also know the utter meaninglessness of it all.
And it makes it that much harder to swallow
when everyone doesn't realize the opportunity they have
every single day.
Most are complacent, content as cattle, lined up and waiting
for slaughter.
Until they're looking death in the face
and wondering what the **** they've been doing all this time,
in this line.
But I do not look at those other chosen people who've cut the tie to the physical plane
with judgement, pity, or shame.
Their bravery shines.
Everyone deserves an out, because so often people stay in out of selflessness,
out of attachment and obligations, to friends, to families
but will you deny them forever?
Give them their peace and think of their great example often.
All of life is risk,
you're always on the cusp,
every day could be your last.
Death is the final frontier,
an adventure unknown,
and wanderlust is strong in some.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 3:19 AM UTC
Somewhere between my subconscious and hypnotized reality
I sleepwalk down the memory lanes
Amidst the darkness of a lost cause
I move in circles searching for something I can't remember
Is it the perfection personified or just my memories of you
A soul so pure and a heart so warm
A beauty so rare and eyes so expressive
A touch so caressing and voice so soothing
A fragrance so sedating and a presense so completing
And in the shimmering lights of your glow
I move my tremoring hands just for a touch
For a belief I would trade my chance to be with thousand angels
That you are real
But it was just a shadow I was touching
You vanish like the ripples in the mirage of uncertainty
And I keep following you in circles till eternity
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 8:58 PM UTC
What do infants dream of?
Do they dream of wombs?
Places dark
and comfortable
and perfect beyond comparison.
Sedating heartbeat above regular
and comforting
like a vascular clock.
Always keeping time;
always breathing life.
Do they dream of mothers *******
Soft pillows of nurturing flesh.
The source of life on their planet.
Flowing ivory elixir,
from soft rose *******
Do they dream of us?
Of grotesk giants
that pinch cheeks
and speak in meaningless howls.
Smiling oversized faces
that clean the **** that builds below
where that sweet tube once provided life.
Gnawing white stumps
eating indigestible hunks of flesh,
or plants.
Do they understand love?
Can they dream of pure emotion?
Without the words and representations of it interfering?
I wish to be like this.
I wish to be swaddled,
to have dreams about nothing,
and real.
Dreams as pure and amazed
as a teary eyed infant.
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 2:03 AM UTC
Life, passing and fading,
You frown as it moves on by,
Life, calm and sedating,
Yet your beginning to wonder why,
Living, living in a box of your design,
Oh, it's quiet and nice,
Yes, and you've paid the price,
Living in a box of your design,
Why can't you see,
In this cage of rust,
Who can't you be,
When your world turns dust,
Still, you stay there,
Still, you see it,
Yet you wonder where,
In this life,
Passing and fading,
You frown as it moves on by,
Calm and sedating,
Your beginning to wonder why,
Walls fall down,
When the crows cry,
And the king has lost his crown,
Then truth begins to die,
Now you wonder,
In the field of debris,
If this were a fateful blunder,
Or an act to be set free,
Though, amidst loss,
Memories alone beside you,
Are alone to guide you,
Had it been better,
Living, living in a box of your design,
It was quiet and nice,
Yes, and you'd paid the price,
Living, living in a box of your design.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 12:58 AM UTC
My sense of responsibility
for you, is weak
And though the sun
may peak
Her bright and shiny head,
I am four steps from dead
with whiskey in throat
striking up a winter laden band.
One hand over my eye
and another open in the dark.
Through the city harbor
blind cat ropewalker
down to the skylit charmer
into wounded arms
and gaunt and weary couches
I am wilting away.
With your breath hot on me
sedating my needs
like I sedate and taint you-
But suffocate, suffocate
Disintegrate and fascinate
all my childish fantasies
of being pressed into the trees
pressed into the dirt,
Your hips slipped between
a little exposed thigh.
Pressed and suffocating-
under your weighted throb.
Feb 2, 2010
Feb 2, 2010 at 6:50 PM UTC
since we've broken up
i've been loaded up
getting drunk & throwing up
swollen head all bloated up
from doses of the finest drugs
but it's never quite high enough
to forget your type of tired love
it keeps me anchored as i'm flying up
as i'm crowd surfing
on a cloud's surface
my head is drowning in the dirt
i'm ground to grains & feeling worthless
clay for brains & muddy urges
lead to vacant veins & vapor verses
a rehearsal for a solemn song
sedating the invading fog
while praying for the haze to stop
Oct 5, 2010
Oct 5, 2010 at 8:38 PM UTC
She wanted the waves
Of the bounding main
To lull her
To blanket her
To drowse her
With their lethargic drift
To sway her tired limbs
And pull her deeper
Into the blue, sedating tides
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 6:34 PM UTC
He wore a stripped shirt
that resembled the twist of serpants
though he smiled warmly his eyes were
steady on the dollars
placing labels and badges on all
the soldiers fighting to pay rent
and live in times so far from purpose
I kick back and watch him scribble
false notice
prescribing a pill to every effect from
this life
its left me purging
I hate the institutions
the corrupt unjust
sick ***** sedating my
passions and
numbing me up
smart went to another place
outside your local village where
the villians mix the chemical
perserves in your children's fillings
I cant help the way I percieve what
I have seen
I cant help that my fall from innocents
was rougher and obscene
I cant stop thinking of the misuse
of power and money mongers
I want to burn the kingdom
hoping it'd grow back to something better
misguided we walk off cliffs and to the slaughter
or we come back as our fathers paper back novel
excellence for me has fallen to resistence
because I simply cant stand this kind of exsistence
go ahead and direct me to another perscription
corrupt everything in my mind that makes me human
I'm ODD to the extreme !
I reject most of you and the latest thing
and now this man sits here
telling me I'm sick and spiraling
as he shakes hands with satan
defiling minds from eyes that only see green
and I pay my way to see this jackal conspiring?!
You can keep your advice your diagnoses and the dice
I'll leave you now to gamble with the rest of the villager's lives
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 9:13 PM UTC
Old dinosaur man go sniff
Spit on three fingers so that I can have a kiss.
No, doctorosaurus- this isn't a hit
It's been a miss since long ago.
Slow; she's waiting on you.
Reptilian creature, fixer of blue
Imagines my groove to soothe himself.
There is no sedating the truth-
You want to use this.
**** little temptress
In a skintight sundress.
I'm a hot mess
And you want me.
Epidermal- under your skin
So easily.
May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 1:22 PM UTC
This is not going to go as planned. Talk about unsettling – I am completely without seat.
Afraid to talk, or I’ll throw up.
And I’m shaking on the inside
And clenching the edges of papers
In small, isolated seizures
And it’s rushing on like a freight train
Like a highway spun backwards
And I’m standing, alone,
Silent
And breathing heavy.
This is the moment when I fall back on alcohol.
When I imagine the soft fluidity of liquid bringing me into collapse
Seducing me, sedating me,
Tranquilizing my hip-hop-wired nerves.
All I want to do is scream, once, at the top of my lungs,
Into my pillow?
Could imply ****
Unsure if whether or not you will put your hands on me your eyes on me,
I don’t want that, can’t have that,
You haven’t earned that.
Don’t even know why you like me
Or if I do, if I should, why should I like you
When you’re tall and have a low voice
And might be depressed,
And I’m ****** up, too manic
Don’t wanna get into this cest pool
And really out of nowhere when you’re just about to bolt
You ask me, like it’s nothing,
If I’d like to go for a drink.
And I ****** well did want to go for a drink
Even though I don’t want to go for a ******* drink!
Because your hands are big
And sweaty
Which would ruin everything,
And I don’t know anything about you
Or me,
And I would just be saying the same, old, ****
And it wouldn’t be fun,
And we’d enter into the same, old, ****
Like playing a game of pool
And – whoops! – I showed too much cleavage, and hey, don’t you dare try and show me how it’s done,
With your hands on my hips,
Like that one time at work,
Which thrilled me.
I’m just a bundle of contradictions. And I don’t think this is right.
I’d really like to shut this off like the lights like the zone of electricity,
But it’s still there
And I bet you’re so calm.
And I’m sure I’ll smile, when it happens.
And I’m sure it’ll go ******* well.
I’m not taking a lick of joy from that,
Only anxiety,
Sallow, brown anxiety.
And great, ******* it, this isn’t going to work
Get me out of it
Climb out of my skull
Onto the pavement
Liquor me up, or I’ll never make it through this ****
It’s time to go. Man up. Grow some *****
**** me.
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 3:35 PM UTC
I am lost in the loose ended threads which make my life;
they weld me down along glistening metal lanes
with screws and nuts and bolts once in a while ,
rather carelessly with a callow scraping grip,
perhaps it's a young apprentice
inexperienced in dealing with insubordination
to fix me in my place.
sometimes these threads look like faceless feelings,
pre-emptive if you will,
sometimes they look like ununderstandings by me or others
sometimes they look like despots called people
sometimes they look like elevators built around caves of people
shedding tears and hides.
So yes ,sometimes the metal feels like the deep cold of the sea.
powdered with nuts and bolts forgotten in the hazy blue saline,
but probing my shaky heart and my remoulding mind like frosty bullets.
Overrun with senseless weeds from inside,
and grim from ruins of lost ships
and here and there with inviting treasures
worthwhile, anew
in the cascades of worldliness of all things beautiful.
sometimes the metal feels like the lullaby of the sea
sedating almost,
amidst the wilderness of conflicts ,jarring bronze contradictions
and of course, the ever so ubiquitous, soupy shallow free floating worldly wise grime.
while other times oy romantics,
it feels like a fish net topping me from reaching out
to places and peoples and experiences of this world.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
Her hand slips softly, into mine,
Her eyes glimmer, with reminiscence.
and this moment is ephemerally divine
divinity, drowning in Dissonance.
The sky is turning grey,
like my love.
Her incandescent beauty, as immortal..
..as the fire that burns within my haranguing heart,
fueling perennial passion, that shall slowly fade,
like the gut wrenching ire, that obscures my gaze.
the trees, reveling in the glory of spring,
in full bloom,
pushing away the recurring gloom..
the setting sun and its sedating sight,
fills my soul with seraphic light..
As the seconds turn to hours,
and I shower my love with a thousand flowers,
the moon maketh me feel, her luminous presence,
and I drown myself, in her ethereal essence.
Jun 17, 2012
Jun 17, 2012 at 8:55 AM UTC
i am drowning. strangling pressure cups my frightened face, caresses my flailing limbs. its cold clenching hands grasping, pulling, beckoning me, boasting safety and security within its undulating abyss.
breath
numbing and chilled, it creeps inside me, flooding my body with sedating venom, the hopeful light above fading as my chaosed mind is pinned under crushing power.
breath
my aching thoughts crave respite, my salty tears mingle unseen in the murky depths. i meekly surrender to its tearing clutches, searching vainly for that glimmering spot of hope, reaching out and finding nothing.
breath
my eyes snap open. i watch hopelessly, my placid surface frozen, hiding the tumultuous currents beneath. my protection and comfort lie comatose before me, living only through each slow, steady
breath
fear wraps his hindering fingers around my throat, slips in, his tightening grip seizing my voice, the unspoken words lingering behind silent lips: i love you.
rattle.
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 5:17 AM UTC
Your contribution to romantic exchange
Is sipping cold coffee
Neither satisfying nor stimulating
Your unwillingness to invest
May be reluctance at best
Yet I fail to find the charm in that
Poetry doesn’t exist there
Passion blew through this town
Along with the hope of settling here
Building a castle to protect us both
With the labor of love
But no labor came from you
Your womb is empty
And I am left to wonder about your heart
And where to start
Walking from here
Guess you were just passing through
But I found home in you
I would’ve lived in a box outside your door
If you could’ve just given a little more
I resigned from life as I knew it for awhile
Because of a smile
A look …
Mistook
Misunderstanding?
I miss …
Understanding
But there is no reason here
I’ve had my last beer with fear
Shared my last embrace
With that look on your face
The one that kept me captive
For so long
Lost in the lines of a Tod Weidner song
Slowly sedating myself awake
Curious what it is you didn’t take
Pointless to consider when there’s nothing at stake
No more plans to make
Nothing left of a heart to break
Just a tattoo of you
Etched into my soul
A piercing reminder
I will never be whole
Again
Feb 1, 2012
Feb 1, 2012 at 11:36 PM UTC
*with me it's all ***** free, she laughed me teasing ***** and not her **** and then i said: i was bitterer free than a caged slave freed; so tell me... when did rhyme rhyme with untrue and dry prose with truth?*
none of the free women could uncouple ******* from the *****
none of these free women
could love me like a ***** the "master,"
but they did - common free ****** themselves
while the saints arose to challenge the antichrist
deciding it was better to salvage driftwood than the whole ship,
and give common fee to ******* than salvage
common freedom from common ******* fees with ******* the commons
of sedating parliament of freedom feeing freedom:
but the ****** became saintly snakes
asking for less and the common woman for more!
what mattered more was slapping the cheek,
none of these free women could compete,
none of these free women could salvage the ****** slaves,
instead they asked for opinions through actresses,
and while i broke chime of dirges with sirens
for the chandelier flutes dropped - i heard of demonic
song being poetry, and angelic songs continued without poeticism;
oh lark and sorrow i heard that no free woman ever bore
the freed love from sexing it asked for yoga exercise
to thrill a lost packaged youth,
but the free women sexed up, and the ****** were
skeletally libra minded to tangle the heaviest with the lightest
and the freest with the most leathered up to tangle in whip lost
sparking less gallop and more thought:
as once in town a randomised woman to my writing said:
now that's the devil, said, and i walked on.
none of the free women who spoke of feminism ever
gave third introduction up, with limping the second artillery was
salvo dis-loved, for the third introduction was sold
to ***** and man managed all, but not this;
none of the free women could ever pair man with her involvement
satisfactory: first ***** second **** third lips and child goodnight:
for the free women were more than ****** could be,
found the woman, entering a brothel and hearing of whores' graces
to do not what free women did: no **** no harsh movement,
the ****** dictated that freedom felt what it wasn't with me bought,
****** a ***** and kept **** to myself
while i argued the digestion in reverse and liberated them
from a child engaged to be tucked in, and sweetly dreaming of mothers
of tomorrow with hanky and bacon and scrambled eggs for schooling,
marching into marsh and sweet mud, in order that some general
might satiate the feel of ordering a fee of orderly salutes into hades'
6ft gape of a yawn of cracking marble into moulding earthenware to
suit root and worm.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
"Slow down", she said.
"We're all just so restless,
We can't seem to sit still.
Moving too fast...
Just to throw it all away."
No one seems to think
for themselves anymore.
Bound ever so tightly
to the crowd.
Oblivious to the weight
that's dragging them down.
The best of intentions
are rotted away in the end.
Lamenting poor decisions,
and the way time was spent.
We're just fading away.
Believing in the mainstream.
Fading away...
Nothing's what it may seem.
How we crush our emotions,
until we are numb to the core.
Sedating ourselves,
always wanting "something more".
Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 2:26 PM UTC
One, two, three, persist.
Spin, spin, spin, retain;
Under our spotlight of Exception,
A standstill of colors occurred-
So vivid, it was almost blinding.
Amidst the hollowness
Seeped a shadow,
Reaching out to every
Memory locked away.
Familiar Stranger.
Tracing lines of comfort,
Running down heaven,
Dropping weight on unknown territory;
An interminable candle is lit.
A leap of faith.
A thread connected two points-
One side smiled, the other feared;
Two paths were walked on-
Only to become the beauty they call Sunset,
Or the terror they call Tremor.
Collision, destruction.
Fear enveloping, merging into darkness;
Silent night screaming, absorbing the emptiness;
Finding tranquility in expression
And freedom in escapade.
The thread is broken.
Search for ignition,
The stars have only just begun to shine;
Search for boundlessness
Sedating every boiling point,
Aggravating every sparkle,
Immortalizing intervals.
Transience is defeated.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 6:07 AM UTC