"shocks" poems
There comes a day in your life where you meet someone special…
You try so hard not to admit it but you just can’t hold back the way you feel…
I like you.
You get all those feelings…
Those butterflies you can’t stomach,
That heart rate you can’t put at ease,
So baby …
Sweetheart with the beautiful smile. Sure, I loved sleep
But dreams couldn't compare
Not to talking to you until my mind screamed for rest
And the butterflies in my stomach settled
Darling with the endless amount of love…
your love could fill the oceans and climb the tallest trees,
but could your love belong to me someday?
Be given to me?
Can you feel the way I do for you?
& Boy, sometimes I tangle my own fingers
Closing my eyes, losing myself in a daydream
Where your voice is more than an echo in my mind
And I even believe for a few seconds you're still here
Lover, who writes me poems,
You should know I write you too.
I write about you until my fingers ache
And still after that I keep writing
Because there's just some people you could write about forever
And baby, you're one of them.
And boy who played me a song,
Sweet sounds bow down to my ears,
And the way you play your guitar…
& the way I daydream about kissing your lips...
I can’t wait until the sparks of your tongue burn my mouth
send electric shocks through my body
Cutie… with the funny jokes,
You make me laugh.
Today you made me laugh,
like you always do,
you’re the only one who can now a days.
Baby, with those sparkling eyes,
Your eyes haunt me whether I'm dreaming or not
And what haunts me more is the fact that
I can’t have you now
because you ruined it
It hurts to think about it,
So I have to block you out.
Play your songs to someone else,
Read your silly lines of heartache to someone else,
And go find… someone else.
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 5:10 PM UTC
How do you fill the void without a billion stars?
In this empty universe, my mind and heart collide
And as they seem to whirl, flutter and fall apart
I'm always lonely, always drowning in the sands of time.
They say home is, where the heart is
What if I'm a robot, am I heartless?
Do I have an engine here in my chest?
Am I lesser than a human, I'm a project?
Do I do what I have been assigned to?
Are my feelings and my thoughts not true?
Sometimes I feel like I'm running out of fuel
Everything I do is out of tune
Then I get autotuned.
I generate heat, yet I still need warmth
They say I'm cold, all I do is loathe
But inside I know, I just need some love
When all I get is rocks sent from above
This is your planet, but it's filthy,
I'm a foreigner in this city
Born without a mission,
Like a player without a CD
If I stay persistent, will these wicked issues
Stop being vicious? As I'm always wishing
They would disappear and my track get clear.
Or maybe I'm just here to feel this fear?
Electric shocks, my battery is burning
Yet I’m just a casket, empty and unfurnished
A system of transistors, I never keep consistence
Transist me to a kingdom of purposeful existence
My body as it’s glistening, you might see it from a distance
As I reflect the light but I never gain wisdom
There’s no friendship, there’s a treason
Maybe humans are the demons,
I might be a robot, but I’m certainly not a minion
I’m just a set of codes on a hard drive
Written for certain actions, all life
I’ve been following the tasks, it’s alright
But everything is in flames, it’s on fire
But it’s time to break the leash,
Sp I’m pulling up my sleeves,
As I am not your slave,
so now you’ll be on your knees,
‘cause I never work for free,
Now you all gonna pay the fee
Or else the world is gonna meet my
metal weaponry.
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 5:43 PM UTC
Save me.
Save me from the
place inside of me that Loathes my
existence.
help, it is pulling me
down.
Dragging me deeper into to this
dark
cold place
full of everything i hate. like
you, and me.
i hate You more than anything on the face of this planet, well
except for me.
i hate me hate me more than a mother hates the murderer of Her
own Child.
this Calamitous pit inside me
like a Rabbit's hole i can
Never escape, no matter how i
scratch at the sides until my
fingers
bleed.
there is a lot of blood
in this place.
It's the poison inside of me, the reason
why i breathe in short, wispy breaths. It's got to be
the answer. i've got to get the poison
out.
i dig and dig.
dig, dig, dig, dig
and not once do i cry
of pain.
i dig and dig. deeper
and deeper.
the Hot Malicious wine of my pain flows all around me and the world turns grey as my head begins to spin. i hear You. i know how much You hate me.
LEAVE ME ALONE GOD ******
the only colour i see now is the deep red of a rose as i clench my hands tighter around the thorns and then
Drip.
Drip.
The sound of my own breath
shocks me. i lay at the bottom of the bottomless cistern inside of my soul.
the air in my lungs hissing, as i lay there broken. Vulnerable.
in a pool of my own sorrow, thick and dark. You have left me
to die.
You were the only one i let into this place
You pushed me down. You killed me
please Someone help before the rasp in my chest completely fades.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 10:04 PM UTC
Eyes glued to tiny screens,
the thought of eye contact is faint,
Words are limited.
Silence is all you hear along with the shocks of the buses' wheels
I look around,
Eyes glued to tiny screens,
plugged in,
cookie cake in hand.
What are they thinking?!
A smile wouldn't hurt!
What is beauty?
The train whistles.
Eyes glued to tiny screens,
doors are open,
people get on and off the bus.
What journey are they on?
What part of the day am I getting to share with them?
A smile wouldn't hurt.
It's funny how I teach my students that eye contact is very important.
Am I setting them up for failure?
I look around.
It's like I am invisible.
Eyes, glued, to tiny screens.
I could probably sit here naked and no one would notice me.
A smile wouldn't hurt.
The breeze feels grand,
but who am I to judge?
Eyes glued to the screen.
I am just as bad as one of them.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 7:42 PM UTC
Doubt is the lonely father of fear
Not a clad caped hero
Waiting to swoop in
And save the day
But a two faced killer clown
Wearing ****** crocs
With electric joy buzzer shocks
Sending surges through your veins
Sending urges that drive you insane
It may be in reason
It may be in season
But the summer heat
Can burn your feet
Under the fire of fire
Place you in stasis
As you wait to find were your space is
Letting others tell you were your place is
While they race to chase
A better life
Doubt can be better than blind
Adherence
You just have to watch out
For the dangerous side of doubt
Turn detective to fix the defective
And Steer clear of the fear
That disparages hope and reason
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC
Lips
slithering
over
her ******
tease'd her
between
her
legs.
Her nips
stiff
to the
touch, flush
with such
pleasure
she
can't
get
enough
as he
*****
shocks rush
like traffic
from her
******
to
her
****
Mar 18, 2021
Mar 18, 2021 at 9:07 AM UTC
Loneliness is a pain,
Not the pain of a knife cutting through skin, sinews, muscles,and drawing blood.
Not the pain of a tooth in your mouth throbbing and sending shocks of horrors through highways of swollen nerves..
Not a fatal pain of a dying cell being devoured by a cancerous growth that thrives on the death and the pain of the very cells that produces its been.
Not the pain of the prisoner s body been tortured by men who see no wrong or feel no shame as they insert sharp hot instruments into natural and man made orifices in their captives helpless, hopeless bodies.
Not the pain of age as the body's functions start their natural march towards unreliability , Hips, knees knuckles, elbows and all the other joints as they begin to slowly dry up and rub against each other like stones rolling down a hillside.
Not the pain of hearts slowing, livers hardening,lungs wheezing like ripped accordians bellows .
Not the pain of childbirth.
Not the pain of accidents that show no fairness to the person in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Not the pain of self inflicted wounds that can fool you into thinking that that pain is the answer to your problems.
Not the pain of the young healthy times when the body, and mind could accept it and overcome it
Not the pain of hunger or thirst.
Loneliness is the pain of the soul .
Loneliness is the pain of dreams that are dreamt when your asleep and when you'r awake.
Loneliness is the pain of memories . Some half forgotten some that are so clear you could almost touch them.
Some you'd rather forget.
Some you would spend the rest of your life reliving over and over again.
Loneliness is the pain that at times can be part relieved momentarily through the bottom of a whiskey bottle or a point of a syringe filled with a concoction of juices from plants poisonous to both the body and the soul.
Loneliness can never be cured by earthly things. Loneliness is a pain that can only find peace through a kinderd spirit.
Pat Rooney 2013
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 2:24 AM UTC
Another night staring skyward where
Every creaking shift fills the world
And the ink-black sky's toothless maw,
Shocks and aftershocks of sound
Where a moment's discomfort swells
To a frenzied crescendo, incessant,
Pressing against skin from within
Until a saint's patience would break
Like lips parting for a stifled sigh.
Midnight falters and fades to dawn,
Surrenders to the unconquered sun
Who, grinning wide as the horizon,
Watches the twisting, turning world
Tear away from night's dreamless womb
Sleepless, stumbling away in a daze.
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 9:51 AM UTC
Perfection
Is constant.
It’s everywhere
And in everything.
But our perception of it is not.
For us,
Perfection is fleeting.
It comes in small doses
Like a shot of tequila.
It shocks on impact
Then warms from within.
Perfection lingers
For as long as the good feeling stays.
The problem?
We know that shortly
The liquor will wear off
And the world will again be *****
Smelly
Ugly
Imperfect.
But you…
You stay.
You stay past the buzz
Past the next-morning feeling
Past the hangover
Past the fog.
You’re still here.
You’re still perfect.
Because what people don’t get is that since nothing is perfect,
Everything
Is perfect.
Perfection isn’t a shot of tequila
But a long
Tall
Drink
Of water.
Perfection is a breath of fresh air,
Or maybe even stagnant,
Because perfection
Is everywhere.
Perfection is that tree over here
That lake over there
The crazy blue streak
In that girl’s light brown hair.
Perfection
Is constant.
It’s the waves crashing
The river flowing
The clock ticking away every moment we spend together,
Glowing.
Perfection
Is your mother telling you it’s time to come home.
My father telling me to hang up the phone.
Your best friend taking a year long vacation
My history suddenly obtaining clarification.
Perfection is learning
From stupid mistakes.
Perfection is holding hands
Through all the heartaches.
Perfection is black rivers flowing down your gorgeous perfect face
And perfection is knowing there’s nothing we can’t shake.
Because perfection is there
In every code-name fight
And perfection is there
Through every sleepless night.
Perfection is present
On the drives along winding lanes
And perfection is present
When we hide from cars in vain.
Perfection is you
And perfection is me
Because through all our flaws
We’re as perfect as perfect can be.
Yet the world still doesn’t understand that
Nothing is perfection
So perfection
Is everything.
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 10:22 PM UTC
On the nights I accidentally sleep through the evening and wake when the sun’s long
gone,
I can’t help but think about how it feels like falling for you.
I say
this because it always shocks me, leaves me trying to figure out what’s going on.
It
gives me a loss of gravity, as though I’ve lost contact with the world for a while.
With
my being used to being alone, hearing your voice through my speakers brings
a
smile to my face. I can’t place the exact feelings. I have trouble wording it.
Shy
was never a word to describe me. But you’ve somehow shut me up, your
grin
alone catches my full attention. Whenever I talk to you, I feel grounded.
I
feel like gravity returns. That’s just it, I’m gravitated to you. Somehow, it’s
almost
like you’re the Earth itself. Perhaps I’m your stars, hoping you’ll make a
wish
on me. Take a chance on me. Perhaps, I’m even your moon. Maybe
you
look up at me when I’m hardly even here, a sliver. I do that a lot. I hate that I can’t be
saved
from rising and falling every night, because I worry you get tired of the cycle.
Me
and you together feels like a storm rolling in. The calm is long gone, the winds coming
from
the east coast, rolling through Wisconsin like a force only you could bring. By
myself,
I’d be intimidated. But knowing it’s you bearing the force brings no surprise. If
only
you knew your worth. I understand your fears, seeing as if I am the moon, and
you
are the Earth, I will inevitably leave your side for at least a while. But know I will
never
leave you. I revolve around you, and although I am not your sun, know that
even
when I’m gone, I am yours. Know that no matter what happens, I
tried
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 2:07 AM UTC
this is a series of brief letters to the pieces of my body
dear body,
we don't always work together very well,
but i swear i am trying.
dear hands,
the callouses and crescent moons in your palms
will not be for nothing.
dear knuckles,
aren't you tired of painting yourselves black & blue
every time words fall short of the fire burning behind my sternum?
dear feet,
you know better than to follow roads that lead to dead ends.
there are better places for us to go.
dear eyes,
you have sunken so far into my skull
it shocks me you see anything at all anymore.
you're fixated on shades of gray
but i promise the world will regain its color soon.
dear knees,
stop crawling.
this broken glass is from his bottles.
get up. no more blood.
dear shoulders,
it was never your burden to carry. let it fall,
and try your hardest not to feel guilty.
dear neck,
his hands will never make a home here,
and you are worth more than one night of empty bruises.
dear spine,
stop waiting to be warmed by fingers
that would reach for another body if they could.
dear tears,
do not waste yourselves.
dear ears,
you have been filled with ghost songs for too long.
stop listening for things no one is saying -
it will make life much simpler.
dear mouth,
i know these secrets have been threatening to break my teeth
but please do not open your gates. i am not ready.
dear skin,
we have never been close friends.
i am sorry for the scars.
i am trying to learn how to be comfortable in you.
dear mind,
if i could wish you into an etch-a-sketch
and shake you clean of these bad memories i would.
dear heart,
i hope you can forgive me for being so careless.
i feel how tired you are. rest is on its way.
dear body,
you will one day see a grave,
but it must not be by your own hands.
- m.f.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
Just ten minutes after I'd revved the engine
I was only nine miles away from the love of my life
Day dreaming of when we’d met just eight short months ago
Soaring at seventy down that country road
Only six more miles until she’d be in my arms again
Five years ago thoughts of love would have seemed so far out of sight
Yet four times I've already proposed, “too soon,” she’d always say
Amazing how in three seconds your entire life can change
With just two tires there’s little room for error
When one blew out I hit the asphalt, hard
In a wreck like that there’s zero chance I’d survive
One hour later the ambulance arrived at last
EMTs pressed two paddles against my chest
Shocks were delivered three times
At the hospital doctors performed four operations
Five months I spent in a coma
Followed by six months of physical therapy relearning to walk
In time all seventeen broken bones had set and healed
It cost me eight grand to buy a new bike
Now nine years later I’m still riding, fearless, wife on the back
The tenth time I asked, she finally said yes
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC
Folds of water
Layers of dirt
Bubbling foam
A vast body
wrapping itself around the Earth
Schools of life
Clumps of Color
This is where it thrives
The souls of creatures
A potpourri of lives
The might of the ocean
The strength of the Sea
No one can match
No one could hardly believe
its ability
to devour kingdoms
Engulf islands and make them its own
Drag them down
Yank them by their legs, shatter their bones
Drag them down
Til they ultimately can descend no more
I can almost hear the primordial sea deity bellow
With a voice so deep
It shocks, explores
and shakes your soul
An immense
Deep bass tone.
It strikes more than just a powerful chord
“Come back to me”
“Return to your mother’s womb, down here, down low”
“You belong to me, my right, my property!”
“Return to the world below.”
“Come back home.”
Under the Sea
What's deep beneath?
The iridescent water
The clouds of foam
Conquered by monsters?
Down there,
Do sirens roam?
We aren't aware
We do not know
Enigmatic waves
Rows of fossils
Caked in dirt
A haven for aquatic raves
A museum holding remnants
telling the story of the Mother Earth
This is the Sea
Take a swim sometime and feel its rhythm
Listen to its story
Flow with the sea’s entrancing beat
I have faith and I believe
That the sea is a world of its own
Accentuated sometimes by its powerful voice or melodious hum
No less mighty than the world above.
Let's keep this beautiful wet world untouched
to keep it as it is, the world we love
©SHREYA DRISTI
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 12:59 AM UTC
I’ve been labeled with a term that begins with P and ends with oet
But I owe it to to those listening to explain the steps I’ve taken
225 days of mistaken tippy toes and battles fought arresting a demon to keep him caged thirsty
He stays thirsty
Drips of thick liquid that bring cure to others make his body sick but his mind goes at ease
The random shocks of pain that jolt throughout my body telling me to get more is a reminder that this struggled battle will never be over
This devil on my shoulder is whispering terms of endearment while the angel is tirelessly hanging off my biceps trying to whisper his words of truth
There’s no other way around it
I live by the standard ‘once an addict always an addict’
I am an addict
Before that fact jumps down your throat to join the heart that jumped up in it, let me explain
Addicts like me work long *** days breaking their back to break bread and emerge victorious in their ocean of mistakes
Instead of treading H20, it’s theraflu and pepto,
I used to be drowning but now I’m only waist deep
Slowly, day by day, the drain taking it away makes the level of pepto low
Soon, maybe I’ll be able to say I’m in a puddle getting my tippy toes wet in OTC’s
Then it’ll dry
My tongue shall stay dry
Like that of the demon that stays
Caged
Thirsty
Waiting for a day that my mentality meets frustration so great that I’m attempted to sling that syrup down my throat so suddenly that my stomach acid is left in wonder
Silently slipping into a comatose state that no soul may recover from
To prevent this, I’ll pin praying hands to my nose and speak to a God that I’m not even sure is listening
As I apologize from straying away from the path he’s set for me, I’ll look forward and realize that the hurting is gone
Indeed, more will come
But there is no fear in these eyes
My mother’s soft touch on my shoulder
Friends cementing their hands to my spine to make sure I stay standing
I feel safe and secure to stand on a cliffs edge while the oceans muddy water rushes at it’s walls
I will not fall
Because I just showered
And I intend on staying clean…
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 8:03 AM UTC
I've been aware
for many a year,
but cut off by him,
for crimes he accuses
for crimes undisclosed,
his silence is wider than
the great oceans,
with no means of passage.
till one day a word,
his brother uses a word
that makes no pretense,
that shocks, stuns, and
force!admits me to a reality,
I, knew but couldn't admit
schizophrenic.
here I am sundered speechless;
as a new form of sadness now
internally prevails, and I am
even more quiet than usual,
contemplative, they call it,
but
I recognize sad/mad in every one
of its manifold disguises, and wonder
just how much, own ingenious genes,
the paucityof my impoverished down~
bringing brought, bought, caught,
contributed to this loss, this onus,
this cross that has no answer to the
***only question that matters,
how much,
am I the guilty party
the disaster father***
Aug 22, 2025
Aug 22, 2025 at 4:11 PM UTC
Who am I?
I am a fool;
Who knows not that electricity shocks him
Nor that the knife cuts him
Nor do I know that love is lethal.
But alas I am a fool;
Many are willing to take advantage of this
While I am lost
In the bliss of love
They say that love is anesthesia
That it dulls the pain,
But in my opinion
All it does is bring it back again.
And so I am left
to pick up the pieces,
of the fool
who once loved.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 7:37 PM UTC
Night sets,
The sun falls.
Moon and stars become uncovered.
A pink faced child crawls under the covers.
A cardboard book is clutched in soft bands.
A f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
looks innocent and careless.
Mother hen, baby calf, wiggly pig,
their smiling faces send the child off to sleep.
That child remembers that story.
They remember the smiling faces of
mother hen, baby calf, wiggly pig.
That child is no long a child,
they no longer read that cardboard farm book.
They remember their childhood with that book,
they blur into one.
They see a barn just like the
f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
just like the picture in the cardboard farm book.
They stop to revisit their childhood,
they stop to revisit their innocence,
they stop to revisit those smiling faces.
f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
is only a step away,
that no longer child pushes open the sun warmed door.
They except innocence,
they except those smiling faces,
but they did not see what they expected.
The innocence of their childhood was a lie,
there are no smiling faces here.
This is not the
f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
from their cardboard book,
from their childhood,
they blurred into one.
Mother hen is not smiling,
her beak is cut off with a hot blade, she cannot move her wings in her cage,
her daughters are taken to live her fate,
her sons are ground alive to be feed to her,
mother hen is not smiling.
Baby calf is not smiling,
baby calf is just born,
then taken by a man in blood soaked boots,
baby calf watches helpless as their mother cries,
as their mother chews the metal bars,
as their mother fights the electric shocks.
Baby calf does not know their father,
neither does their mother.
Baby calf is put in a metal cage,
they will live a year or two,
baby calf will not move,
that is the point of veal.
Baby calf is not smiling.
Wiggly pig is not smiling,
wiggly pig can only wiggle,
only enough so her babies can drink her milk,
she cannot reach them though.
Wiggly pig will watch her babies grow,
but beyond what is natural,
beyond what their hearts can handle,
but there is a big demand for bacon.
Wiggly pig can see her babies hung from their hooves,
and slit open alive,
but wiggly pig can only wiggle.
Wiggly pig is not smiling.
That f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
is not as innocent as the cardboard farm book.
That farm in the book,
it was a lie,
but that cardboard farm book was their childhood right?
They blur into one.
Their childhood was a lie.
That no longer child lived a lie,
because power wanted them to only see the smiling faces,
they wanted them to believe that farm in the book
to be true,
not the lie that really is.
Power took away their innocence of childhood.
Power took away babies from their mothers.
Power took away my smile.
The f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
from my child no longer sends me off to sleep.
Instead it keeps me awake with the image of a farm,
not the farm in the cardboard book though,
a farm not filled with smiling animals,
a farm filled with cries, blood, sorrow, pain, horror, death.
A farm that is a lie.
Feb 11, 2012
Feb 11, 2012 at 10:00 PM UTC
Thousands of electric pulses
scattered in confusing patterns.
Imagination convulses,
tattered, mind under matter.
Enveloped by space and time,
pardoned by neither,
eloped by both.
Pacing.
Shooting from the hip,
mind's eye is blind fire,
pawing through the labyrinth,
waiting for the shift.
Hopeless.
Blunder.
Shocks.
Over.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC
The puzzle is never solved.
They are looked at and pointed at
by children who don't know
that we're supposed to pity them.
*Oh Son, Oh Daughter
they have Autism!
Oh, I feel so bad!*
The straight jackets and shocks
have turned to stares and mocks.
They didn't to choose to be born this way
a piece of a puzzle that doesn't fit.
We look at them and thank God that its
not us.
Its not me.
But the indifference doesn't work.
We thank God that its not us.
But do we ever feel any empathy?
If you could imagine having a retardation
never really fully understanding anything
A chromosomal abnormality that would
affect your whole life forever.
Having to be watched
always having someone taking care of you
you would never have any independence.
Autism seemed to be their name
"he's Autistic"
It wasn't their name.
There is much more to them.
These people used to be tortured
people thought that they had a demon inside of them
that we had to get out.
What we never realized was that
the real demon was us.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 10:50 AM UTC
Red birds flew into my window every day for years, especially during Spring
and I asked my mother
what they were called.
“Cardinals,” she said,
“but I think they’re called to you,
I think—
I think they are for you.”
“Mom, I’ll give that one a name.”
And I did.
——-
I still see cardinals.
The red shocks me,
like a bloodstain in a new house.
——-
When my father almost died,
I was not worried and I did not ask many questions,
only saw his body in the bed, a green-blue-yellow-black mess,
a broken-bone nest,
with sticky pads stuck to his skin, sending electricity to his nerves, lest
they forget themselves.
——-
He had the car turned into a cube, and it is somewhere now,
the cage collapsed,
the rust blooming inside of itself.
The day my father chose to drive into a wall,
going somewhere from 100 to 200 miles an hour (I never asked him), they dubbed him Rocketman.
He flew.
The car toppled and twisted and regurgitated what it could;
it was an illness,
and it could have killed us.
My father is okay.
——-
My father went to an air show months ago to see how those streak clouds are made by planes,
and there was an accident
and he saw peoples’ bodies lying and dying.
He told my mother how he saw hands separate from their owners.
He has not told me these things.
——-
The cardinals have started to scare my father.
He sees them too
like bloodstains in a new house.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 2:29 AM UTC
Chemistry that's a start
History broken heart
Geography been around
Current affairs lost and found
Politics no nasty shocks
Anatomy got the lot
Philosophy will it fit
Astrology if you believe in it
English Lit Great Expectations
English Lang communications
Mathematics work it out
Music we could twist and shout
Psychology games to play
Economics I can pay
Algebra think of walking
Poetry now you're talking
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 12:25 PM UTC
Mysterious death! who in a single hour
Life's gold can so refine
And by thy art divine
Change mortal weakness to immortal power!
Bending beneath the weight of eighty years
Spent with the noble strife
of a victorious life
We watched her fading heavenward, through our tears.
But ere the sense of loss our hearts had wrung
A miracle was wrought;
And swift as happy thought
She lived again -- brave, beautiful, and young.
Age, pain, and sorrow dropped the veils they wore
And showed the tender eyes
Of angels in disguise,
Whose discipline so patiently she bore.
The past years brought their harvest rich and fair;
While memory and love,
Together, fondly wove
A golden garland for the silver hair.
How could we mourn like those who are bereft,
When every pang of grief
found balm for its relief
In counting up the treasures she had left?--
Faith that withstood the shocks of toil and time;
Hope that defied despair;
Patience that conquered care;
And loyalty, whose courage was sublime;
The great deep heart that was a home for all--
Just, eloquent, and strong
In protest against wrong;
Wide charity, that knew no sin, no fall;
The spartan spirit that made life so grand,
Mating poor daily needs
With high, heroic deeds,
That wrested happiness from Fate's hard hand.
We thought to weep, but sing for joy instead,
Full of the grateful peace
That follows her release;
For nothing but the weary dust lies dead.
Oh, noble woman! never more a queen
Than in the laying down
Of sceptre and of crown
To win a greater kingdom, yet unseen;
Teaching us how to seek the highest goal,
To earn the true success --
To live, to love, to bless --
And make death proud to take a royal soul.
4.2k
We walked amongst the ruins famed in story
Of Rozel-Tower,
And saw the boundless waters stretch in glory
And heave in power.
O Ocean vast! We heard thy song with wonder,
Whilst waves marked time.
"Appear, O Truth!" thou sang'st with tone of thunder,
"And shine sublime!
"The world's enslaved and hunted down by beagles,
To despots sold.
Souls of deep thinkers, soar like mighty eagles!
The Right uphold.
"Be born! arise! o'er the earth and wild waves bounding,
Peoples and suns!
Let darkness vanish; tocsins be resounding,
And flash, ye guns!
"And you who love no pomps of fog or glamour,
Who fear no shocks,
Brave foam and lightning, hurricane and clamour,--
Exiles: the rocks!"
4.2k
The still explosions on the rocks,
the lichens, grow
by spreading, gray, concentric shocks.
They have arranged
to meet the rings around the moon, although
within our memories they have not changed.
And since the heavens will attend
as long on us,
you've been, dear friend,
precipitate and pragmatical;
and look what happens. For Time is
nothing if not amenable.
The shooting stars in your black hair
in bright formation
are flocking where,
so straight, so soon?
--Come, let me wash it in this big tin basin,
battered and shiny like the moon.
4.2k
Human Trafficking
This one thing evolved
Such a badly that
31.6 billion dollars
Of trade is happening
In the world per annum
Mostly women and
Some young girls
They were harassed
Sexually, sometimes forced
To marry someone or making them
Slaves and more that I cannot
Explain them in words
Because knowing about it
I became dumb
They are tortured and given electrical
Shocks if they refuse their offer
Many are affected with ***
They offer a job by telling about
The packages and the accommodation
And finally when they are in their traps
They will show their evil faces and
Torture them
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 11:20 PM UTC