"soild" poems
Tension clouds suffocate... he who waits...anticapates...complication...Of atmospheric pressure...Pushed down around ones thought...process of elimination...what shall be removed...what release will be choosed...Liquid, soild, gas...condensed behind the mask...Steam, Clouds, Rain...Suffed behind the Pain...Suffocation...breath.after.breath.after.breath.after....Clutter...Breathe, Stop , and Release....The tension Clouds that are around...Hope.Pray.believe. yes it takes all three..to breathe.Deep....Deeper.......Deeper..........Release....
Dec 28, 2011
Dec 28, 2011 at 12:16 PM UTC
Well...
What a surprise...
Still sat here, with shatterd lines...
If only...
When I awoke...
The world could just explode...
Leave me to feel free, for once in my life...
No incandesent feeling, remose or smile...
As you all tell me how hard your lifes are, I squwerm with anguish.
I cry out ******* let me get on with it."
I will not be still...
I will not take shelter...
Because lifes to short, helterscelter...
Friends are needed...
Laughs requierd...
For heavens sake just retire...
So the young can improve, grow and aspire..
You who hold us down, saying "Your hopless go smoke some thing."
Is that what you desire...
Because when your old torn and tattard,
It will be me feeding you,
washing you down.
For this is the eighth time you have soild yourself today...
No more. No more...
NO MORE
For tomorrow is another day,
for you to point the finger and say
Your useless and ******
go back to robbing homes
And leave these jobs to the bracket Grown'ups close bracket...
Jun 19, 2012
Jun 19, 2012 at 10:36 AM UTC
Kitchen floor..
A simple thing it seems
Yet its filled with so much
As many nights ive sat stairing
At the door placed inside that leads outside..
Waiting
Crying
Mourning
Laughing
Stairing
Longfull
That kitchen floor holds my heart inside as i cried on it
Beat the cold tiles with my fustration of life
Hit it with the death of my father
That cold broken ugly tile floor
Has been there to catch me.
Been there and not given away to my abuse
You might think its just a floor that its job to be under you.
To me its a soild place to fall my kitchen floor..
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 2:36 PM UTC
nervousness
is a disease imbedded in my veins
blackening my lungs
shaking my legs
and shaking down the leaves of my reason tree.
falling to the ground without the season's beckon.
a disorder
calmed only by pretty pills
and deep breaths that my therapist
says will help gather air in my depleting lungs
drowning in my incertainty
the deep breaths I take choke.
The pills make things harder to swallow.
There is no cure for me.
I am anxiety.
A product of an uprooted childhood.
I'll manage and dig up my soil
and till my rows and plant myself
a more soild ground.
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 8:33 PM UTC
Liberation, short lived by cold reality
Just a hapless bird, trapped
Who flew outside her gilded cage,
to find one larger still, made of soild glass.
Veiny lines of futile escapes
stretch across the surface, thin as gossamer
Pounding and banging she flutters to the ground
Devoid of strength to resist anymore.
A single tune, a note never purer to be found
Escapes her lifeless lungs
Like thread through a needle
Or water through cracks
Her song, melodic and frail, barely even heard
Reaching the ears of those with open hearts
A single word, her last resort.
"Help"
Jun 27, 2011
Jun 27, 2011 at 9:15 PM UTC
In the End
we all fall
between
these lines
to slumber
in echoing
choruses
our breath
returning
if only we
could breath
At our end
we all reside
side by side
in straight
parallel lines
Adorn by
your wishes
of who we
were then
soild with dirt
tossed upon
us
Lowered into
your straight
simple grave
as what persona
you have created
In the End
we all lie
between
these lines
Contained
by straight
lines carved
into the Earth
In our Ends
we're all buried
as straight as
how you wanted
Our rotting corpses
abandoned to
be inflicted with
your desired image
of who we are
When we live
So why does
your opinions of
who we are matter
if in our End
you wont approve
you'll bury us straight
In our end,
So tell me
why we care
what you think
of who we are?
If you were going
to obloquy who
we are in our
End.
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 2:22 PM UTC
While other couples have soiled themselves
Engaging in hot and lustful *******
I have remained pure
I have not had ****** ***********
I think I will remain this way
There should be men like me
Willing to remain pure
I will not soil
Or debase myself
By engaging in *** with a woman
These well-hung studs
Think they are God's gift to women
But I laugh
I laugh because they use their life force
Every time they engage in ***
They give up a part of themselves
I remain a towering pillar of strength
I will not give up myself
Each time they ********* inside of a woman
A small portion of them dies
The woman becomes stronger
Taking the life giving seed
I will not let a woman do this to me
I will remain an unbreakable wall
A towering pillar
Soild and unbreakable
He must think he is very much a man
And be so **** proud
******* his wife
Pumping her hard and deep
Little does he know
He is slowly being sapped of his life force
Truly pathetic
I remain with my eyes open
The watchman
The massive stone wall
Eyes always looking
I am a great observer
He looks so tired after having ***
She truly has drained all of his energy
Not me
I remain strong
and I will remain a ******
I will remain pure through time!
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC