"shaper" poems
.
"I shall welcome the majesty of the ******
Loam, the honour of being the daisies mantle
The goodly fortune to sleep under the golden
Stars who birthed my dream of grace and light.
World, ply my ship and sail it to the seas
Of love, poem and song, I was unworthy
Shaper and so, whereby cold fates decree—
Here lies one, whose name is traced in vapour."
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 7:39 PM UTC
Don't you feel bad for Grendel,
His mind is poisoned by the devil.
He is just a lost boy in a harsh world against him.
Voices in his head push towards the brim
He hates the world that he roams alone.
The Dragons charm; his flesh hard as stone.
The Shaper's voice; his head is aching
Wealthoew's beauty; his heart is breaking
Grendel's anger seals his fate
Fatal madness will not abate
His demise is in the mead hall.
He dies from accident; So may you all....
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 12:42 PM UTC
The music
Somehow
Managed to be
Manifested
By the duo
A deaf girl
And a blind boy
Worked
To create this work
Of art
One reads
The notes allowed
While the other strokes
The keysIn synch
They play together
Brail fails
To satisfy the imagination
And the
The hand signs
Signal
Your handicapped
Incapabilities
In case instability
Isn’t enough
To remind her
Reminders forgotten
By forging talents
Forming
As a Shaper of souls
The
Lost and found
They create a presence
Presented
As a musical performance
The conformants
Go with the flow
And accept their fate
Society tells
This peculiar pair’s
Tale
Is unlike any other
Fate begs for a chance
To show her powers
While the duo denies
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 12:36 AM UTC
I've recently been told
That music's for the bold
And performance represents
A simple flow of confidence
While I think that's good to know
I think there's more to music's glow
Cause when I put my pen to paper
I want me to be the shaper
I aspire to hone my craft
And not come off as over-daft
But my music is my art
Communication from the heart
And that calls consideration
Of musicians' motivation
Cause when you stand up on the stage
It's true the listener's the gauge
Of if your music is worthwhile
Or should be thrown into the pile
So overall it's just a balance
Of one's skill, but also talent
So at the ending of the day,
The final thing I'd like to say
is...
A is for Adam
Atoms are for art
I'll write like a free radical
But on stage I'll play the part
May 17, 2023
May 17, 2023 at 4:50 AM UTC
On that western isle, bathed in gold-
Drenching sun, my only, giddy love,
Weaved a daisy chain and crowned
Herself, above the clouds and purple-
Violet seas, her grace, topping yellow-
Sparkled weeds, to flower, marching
In fealty, round her red, reign of crown,
Soon, after new mornings impromptu
Coronation, misty, bluer, eyes felt slow
Distant dread, the subtle, burning fate,
The inevitable nights of overthrowing
And fade of love's noble, corona light.
Were I shaper of dream, I would build
A grand labyrinthian castle of granite
Stone to contain that day— I would
Conjure a moat, impervious to shifting
Time, the mute corruption of sorrows
Waking.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
I am a warrior of the pen, my words
Cutting to into you like butter, beware
Your tongue as my pen is shaper
Than any words that you inflict
Upon me, My ink would
Leave you gasping for breath.
I will write you down, I will say
With words that which can bring
A tear to the eye, to make you
Feel emotions as you have never
Felt before. A single word is more
Powerful and longer lasting than
Any spoken word.
I have a pen that is mightier than any
Sword, it will out last any of your weapons
While turning to rust & blunt, my pen
Will still bleed words cutting in to the
Paper, words that have always beaten a sword.
I am a warrior of the pen, there are
Many that use, ink, paper & pen to spread
Words that can bring any emotion out with
But a movement of the pen and thought.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 10:48 PM UTC
Written October 20, 2012
Tonight I got to thinking. Once, I knew someone who shaped the person I am today; the ever-changing, constantly learning, but already quite changed and learnèd since, person I am today. My shaper ended up being bad news. As soon as I learned this was when I began the change. And it's funny that I have to thank the bad influence of one past person for being the thing that changed me for the better. And although I'm not completely happy, I'm ultimately free. I'm free because I have something my shaper does not: insight into my own psyche. When, in the future, I'm entirely at peace (and this day will come), my shaper will still be caught in the part of life where you're just figuring out who you are. My shaper will always be stuck there, as will everyone else who lives a backward life. Dearest shaper, enjoy the little things in your own life. Being the type of person you are, it's all you'll ever have.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 2:38 AM UTC
If I were a painter
I would craft a goddess, hung
Immortal to some museum
or midst the the dusty collection of some baron
With body, flawless
Form, divine
And all of her admirers
Turning the muses flanking Apollo, jealous
But the real fire, the life giving spark
Would flare mad passion in her eyes
And the thundering, A call;
Theodora, freed from the patriarchy of old Byzantium
A bearer of the old magic, ghosts dancing from another time
Her beauty would be harmonious
To the glittering brown-gold of honeydew
And bursting,
Like a symphony loud and tremulous
All the true aesthetes, trembling
That a painter got to meet a woman so
To set his heart afire
And if I had been born a sculptor
If I had been given the power to shape
My crowning achievement
The great anthem of my time, spent
Would be a face;
A chin, gently tilted skyward
The eyes, sparkling with that unknown sea
Hair disheveled, parted, smoothing the cheeks
and the glimmer of lips,
Softly pursed;
But the eyes, the doorways to that tidal force
All of the dreams
All of the feelings, trapped and rolling, the ocean beneath
Would burst forth; A thousand church candles,
Or a gathering of street lights.
If I were a sculptor my greatest achievement would be cast in Lady's Dream
Not for the skin, but for the glittering eyes
Or if I were a composer
Working on my symphony
I would have the brasses buzzing,
and the strings
A chorus of thought
And the melody would be defined not by the loudness
But the silences
The gaps of deep thought, juxtaposed
Amongst the roaring
The soft gasps of tide being pulled back to sea
and all of the sweet undulations, the rivers of a mind
If I were a composer the audience would get a glimpse,
The briefest moment,
Of the beauty
Of quiet
The deepness
Of thought
But I am merely a poet,
A poor shaper of words
Strung out on hope,
Gambling on luck,
Trapped, eternally, to the brightness of the sun
And lost to those whirlwind emotions that govern men so
And for a moment, smiling,
I got to know the wildness in another poet's eyes
The softness of her smile,
And if I could spell love in her heart
I would
But I am merely a poet,
A poor shaper of words
And with these powers
I can merely say this:
When I say beauty
and the thoughts fall loosely on the page,
hopefully bringing forth a smile
When I say beauty,
When I say beauty
What I mean:
You.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC
It was the eve of my birth and within that
moment of creation I was a fallen as the echo
of my cries were thrown into the industrial
******* bin behind the old take-away.
My teen years were so lewd and contrived,
I thought I had friends, but I was like the
******* I was at birth they used me a threw
me away and again I was alone.
It was upon my tenth birthday that I had
lingered in this abyss long enough, I decided
on that day that I would greet those as I was
greeted to return those favours ten fold ,
My step-dad he was my first gift to my suffering
I introduced him to that pain as I quenched his
sight or lack of with a scuffed spoon rims shaper
than a blade I said words as he screamed.
"I will scoop singular or two, depends on your taste,
Son, please listen to me, he spoke in quivering stuttered
vocals. But I thought it delightful in laughable sniggers.
See how I saw the world, feel the occasions that converted
my emotions to what I'm debilitated to this moment now.
I scooped them out like a ice cream, I thought in this
moment of Mint choc chip, and pineapple sorbet.
Mmm the taste that was seeping from lips. But that
was the blood validating itself on my skin.
All I heard was his voice crying and it made me
regurgitate what I had consumed. It was on the
floor not tasting as it went down like victory.
I just plunged the spoon into his throat...
I didn't want to taste his life, I just wanted to
watch it seep on his white chocolate shirt. It was
like strawberry sorbet with a bitter taste as I licked
a echo of it of my hand "why did I tast it at all??
I had ended so many stains on my life, took their
eyes to show them how I felt. If I had kept them
looking like pickled eggs in a jar. Thinking if they
could still see each others moments in each others sight.
I took their eyes, so each could see how it felt for what
they put me through. I had no guilt, I just consumed
everything they saw and laid it to rest. I wasn't killing
I was just releasing their guilt and consuming it all.
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 6:13 PM UTC
He walks in stolid darknesses
At days zenith, hears whispers
In the dew dusted fens, lights
Leaves into sun candle flames,
Drew a lake sword by maidens
Hand, alchemic shaper of water,
Air, old fires and earth, bending
Cold elements of moly and lode
Rushing forth, in extra emotions.
Sep 8, 2012
Sep 8, 2012 at 3:43 AM UTC
I am the wonder in your eye,
I am the icy winter's sky.
I am the energy of the light,
I am the hungry wolf's might.
I breathe the lava on the earth,
I create the core of every hearth.
I am the shaper of the time,
I am the words out of the mime.
I am the angel in the blight,
I am the devil of the night.
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC
He walks in stolid darknesses
At days zenith, hears whispers
In the dew dusted fens, lights
Leaves into sun candle flames,
Drew a lake sword by maidens
Hand, alchemic shaper of water,
Air, old fires and earth, bending
Cold elements of moly and lode
Rushing forth, in extra emotions.
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 3:52 PM UTC
This poem is ridiculous
And you’re so predictable
Together you are
Ridiculously predictable
And you spin your hair
On your skinny little finger
I stop and stare
Let my scent linger
Eyes are a deep sea green
Attitude of a beauty queen
This feels right
It’s a perfect night
But you’re gay
Why are you gay?
You tell me you like men
Kissed a boy in your closet when you were ten
You liked playing with Barbies- but only Ken
I love everything about you
And I am not about to
Leave you alone
With your news paper
You count me out
Keep reading about that ***** shaper
Oh, you make me want to shout
What can I say?
You’re gay
You tell me you like men
Kissed a boy in your closet when you were ten
You liked playing with Barbies- but mostly Ken
Tight jeans and collared shirts
Stick up your nose at the dirts
Got your cappuccino and walk around
Crush your cigarette butts into the ground
Get your books for class
Tap your boyfriend’s ***
God, you’re so predictable
Nov 7, 2011
Nov 7, 2011 at 9:52 PM UTC
On that western isle, bathed in gold-
Drenching sun, my only, giddy love,
Weaved a daisy chain and crowned
Herself, above the clouds and purple-
Violet seas, her grace, topping yellow-
Sparkled weeds, to flower, marching
In fealty, round her red, reign of crown,
Soon, after new mornings impromptu
Coronation, misty, bluer, eyes felt slow
Distant dread, the subtle, burning fate,
The inevitable nights of overthrowing
And fade of love's noble, corona light.
Were I shaper of dream, I would build
A grand labyrinthian castle of granite
Stone to contain that day— I would
Conjure a moat, impervious to shifting
Time, the mute corruption of sorrows
Waking.
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 8:26 PM UTC
He walks in stolid darknesses
At days zenith, hears whispers
In the dew dusted fens, lights
Leaves into sun candle flames,
Drew a lake sword by maidens
Hand, alchemic shaper of water,
Air, old fires and earth, bending
Cold elements of moly and lode
Rushing forth, in extra emotions.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 12:54 PM UTC
On that western isle, bathed in gold-
Drenching sun, my only, giddy love,
Weaved a daisy chain and crowned
Herself, above the clouds and purple-
Violet seas, her grace, topping yellow-
Sparkled weeds, to flower, marching
In fealty, round her red, reign of crown,
Soon, after new mornings impromptu
Coronation, misty, bluer, eyes felt slow
Distant dread, the subtle, burning fate,
The inevitable nights of overthrowing
And fade of love's noble, corona light.
Were I shaper of dream, I would build
A grand labyrinthian castle of granite
Stone to contain that day— I would
Conjure a moat, impervious to shifting
Time, the mute corruption of sorrows
Waking.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 1:40 PM UTC
On that western isle, bathed in gold-
Drenching sun, my only, giddy love,
Weaved a daisy chain and crowned
Herself, above the clouds and purple-
Violet seas, her grace, topping yellow-
Sparkled weeds, to flower, marching
In fealty, round her red, reign of crown,
Soon, after new mornings impromptu
Coronation, misty, bluer, eyes felt slow
Distant dread, the subtle, burning fate,
The inevitable nights of overthrowing
And fade of love's noble, corona light.
Were I shaper of dream, I would build
A grand labyrinthian castle of granite
Stone to contain that day— I would
Conjure a moat, impervious to shifting
Time, the mute corruption of sorrows
Waking.
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 1:25 PM UTC
My life stands at where it is because of you Lord.
For you are my Situation changer, Dream Shaper.
You are my Life Changing Dream Healer God.
For you shape, mold, and change us from the inside-out.
You twist, mold, transforms us into your Masterpieces.
So that others will see the beauty flowing through us.
Transforming our brokenness into something Beautiful.
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
You're losing weight,
You're eyes are bright,
You're skin is smooth,
Clear and bright,
You're looking great.
You've got a skip
In your step,
You haven't used
****** yet;
Your hair is dark
And deeply thick,
Botox hasn't
Touched your lips.
You don't use an
Under-shaper,
Or lipo-suction
To fit a diaper.
I do believe
You're aging well,
Enjoy what's heaven
On the way to hell.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
.
He walks in stolid darknesses
At days zenith, hears whispers
In the dew dusted fens, lights
Leaves into sun candle flames,
Drew a lake sword by maidens
Hand, alchemic shaper of water,
Air, old fires and earth, bending
Cold elements of moly and lode
Rushing forth, in extra emotions.
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC
Yes you are certainly truly;
the forever blameless you.
Not blanched, scared or blemished.
Proudly sweep on through,
the disease and disaster.
here are you: the auteur ,actor,
written, and right.
demonstratively a demon
on a wreck and toll.
A shits-shaper of reality,
Casting a shadow of blight.
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 11:04 PM UTC
Unlocked, loaded, let your words flame papercandle-flame
set arson to thought-control, combust news.
Pyro-dissident: touch fire to their views
Reveal new topographies, mind-shaper.
Spark a candle – a single thin taper.
Subvert what worldlings dare not refuse.
The herd will always revile or accuse;
but contours alter for you, landscaper –
so chastise darkness. Proclaim what is right.
(When their stable burns down due to your light
or smoldering, implodes, it’s not your fault.)
If the status quo will not acquiesce
then muster another frontal assault.
There’s no shame in a flame; just incandesce…
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC
On that western isle, bathed in gold-
Drenching sun, my only, giddy love,
Weaved a daisy chain and crowned
Herself, above the clouds and purple-
Violet seas, her grace, topping yellow-
Sparkled weeds, to flower, marching
In fealty, round her red, reign of crown,
Soon, after new mornings impromptu
Coronation, misty, bluer, eyes felt slow
Distant dread, the subtle, burning fate,
The inevitable nights of overthrowing
And fade of love's noble, corona light.
Were I shaper of dream, I would build
A grand labyrinthian castle of granite
Stone to contain that day— I would
Conjure a moat, impervious to shifting
Time, the mute corruption of sorrows
Waking.
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
*I shall welcome the majesty of the ******
Loam, the honour of being the daisies mantle
The goodly fortune to sleep under the golden
Stars who birthed my dream of grace and light.
World, ply my ship and sail it to the seas
Of love, poem and song, I was unworthy
Shaper and so, whereby cold fates decree—
Lay one, whose name is traced in vapour.*
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 3:58 PM UTC
He walks in stolid darknesses
At days zenith, hears whispers
In the dew dusted fens, lights
Leaves into sun candle flames,
Drew a lake sword by maidens
Hand, alchemic shaper of water,
Air, old fires and earth, bending
Cold elements of moly and lode
Rushing forth, in extra emotions.
Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 1:37 PM UTC