"spurring" poems
Endless stains of blood
On white t-shirts
On nights that scatter blue trees over black earth
Alight by shooting stars
The mother tells her child
Unwilling to unlock the truth
The truth those stars
Don't grant your wishes
They grab them
With scarred scratching hands.
Alight,
The damp stitches in the soil
Cemetery symmetrical to hospital
Those shooting stars circling
Like a vulture
Speeds towards dead carcasses
Still, the murdering star will not cease
To break bones
That have already broken
To take lives
That have already been taken
To burn
What is already charred
Today
smells like burnt muddied skin
feels like gnawing on your own fingers for feast
sounds like tired, howling machines
spurring and sputtering, never-ending their onwards trek
Swallowing distances and with it, nameless faces
countless places
Today the earthquakes of death
Don't make the land shake anymore
For it has learned to cope
With the desolate cemeteries filled with mute bones
Today burns like gasoline
Looks like intestines decorating destroyed doorways
Today it rains curdled crimson
Tell me shooting star
If the child liked jam on his toast
Did he snore?
Did he like math? Or english?
Shooting star doesn't know and neither the bombs.
As bodies fall from trees
like rotten plums.
The world was born in blood
And has not ceased to suckle its wounds
Endless blood thirst, Endless war
But not endless skin to bleed.
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 2:41 AM UTC
Features, my reflection—
subtle hints stare back offering wordless reply,
their evidence a betrayal of age.
A wrinkle looking deeper,
mane of face, of head—hairs
fresh lacking pigment.
Vain attempts made to mend heart,
to sooth soul's dread.
Testimony of experience
of wisdom, persistence, perception,
an impotent contraceptive, the argument
aberrant.
Regret to cloud memory, my youth
seeming a flesh and blood cliche.
Tiny footnotes heavy with prose,
words in bold
to distract mind's eye—a demand of attention.
Edging out tomb's more beautiful weight
of love and heartache
of passion's attempt failing,
to try again, sinking before succeeding.
An era's dusk and dawn anew, life's advent
unpredictable—without cause changing.
Notion hanging lingering, poisoning future,
the venom of defeat an insidious invasion.
This new age creeping toward night
in this stage my life's sun less bright.
Maturity's introduced responsibility,
some enjoyable while others to own hostility.
A brigand mugging freedom—time for leisure.
Spurring combat for what remains of youth,
fingers wrapping air in futile seizure.
The inevitable to command subservience,
presuming ownership of life, though the mature
demonstrate the defiance of the immature.
Objects, activities, music assaulting ear,
their manner,
symbols of strict adherence to who once was—
a spiteful surrender refusal.
A piece of me defining me until no more,
years holding power—threatening
to change who I am at very core.
Canvas construction the colour of murre,
rubber toe caps the shade of pure.
Design worn since youth, dead and resurrected;
a million mile shoe of valorous resistance—insurrection,
a Converse rebellion.
In torment of age's scars,
I'll never be too old to wear my All Stars.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
the words of judgement
spurring out of your mouth
doesn't hurt the one being judged
the way it reveals your insecurities
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 6:29 PM UTC
Have you ever felt that your life is wrong?
Like you're suppose to be somewhere else?
Like while you're mopping the floor of your lowly dishwasher job your vision blurs and the world around you convulses turning the mop into a spear swirling the sea of bubbles into blood and the far off voice of your boss mutates into the sound of your fellow warrior?
Or maybe when you walk into rain and the soft sound of the droplets on your skin turn into the rhythmic music of things against armor.
And as you look to make sit you're not going crazy the roar of an engine turns into the bellowing of dragons, horses and more.
These flashbacks transport you to another time where the world is mystic,
The pavement transmutates into dirt as the air around swirls into sudden shrills of strengthening speeches spurring you soulfully into skillful battle.
And as you speed forward leading the charge
of your battalion of skilled men a thousand large,
The flashback stops and you're in your time,
No armor on you skin..
Or lives on the line..
But your heart is still racing,
And you remember their names,
Of the boys you were leading,
On to glory and fame,
So was it a dream?
Or a memory from the past?
Or maybe it was from your life last.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
Boom n' zoom
Retrograde and a full moon
It's not loosing you that has me hurting,
it's the subconscious fears within me
that your thoughtless and immoral actions are spurring
It's like you're consciously feeding into them,
stinging them, driving an ice pick through them,
bringing to surface once again.
Yet it'll never be within me to draw a sword and sting back,
or attempt to strike a chord within the broken,
chorus that your dark and angry heart mourns.
However, maybe that's where fears belong.
Maybe you were a tool to awaken them,
to pin me to a wall, watch me rip and fall
then dismiss them and fly far from the fear
of never having another look back at me
and mirror my look of awe.
How is it one can still have compassion after such disgusting actions?
(Yin and yang. Divine balance.)
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 12:59 PM UTC
watch the starlings
synchronizing
their collective dance..
each bird deciding for the all
each on the edge of
chaos and fall..
local decisions on moving
coupling a mysterious
non-local intuition..
all spurring our wonder
our disbelief
are we forced to consider
our analogous place
each one of us poised
on a delicate line..
each needing to master
a courage to reach
transform near fear
take that one step our own
trust knowing all steps..
holographic truth at last
each differing step
stimulating
new wholeness and light
watch the starlings
once more..
locate where you now stand
my edge in my time
absorb the starling's miracle
murmuring our own
murmuration
Jun 7, 2012
Jun 7, 2012 at 11:50 PM UTC
*How does one overcompensate
For the incompetence of a nation?*
No compromise for the masses
undeniably stuck in ruts of habit
These days Ive seen and see
We're all craving harmony
With no equitable solution
To take the race out of the face
It's just accumulative corruption
Apprehensive assimilation
Aggression stirring underneath
A stone passive shade of sentience
Now say we might anticipate
The fantasizing fringe of youth
Where we will conquer or be conquered
By depravic spurring truth
Oct 27, 2011
Oct 27, 2011 at 2:07 AM UTC
a princess locked up high
guarding close by is a mighty dragon
imagine what a knight might do
risking his life to protect you
armor is shiny and silver
his bravery thrilled her
spurring his horse
the dragon's skin is coarse
as he swings his sword
out poured blood
there was a loud thud
he shrugged, tongue-in-cheek
the knight does it again
as if it's been done before
oh what love they have in store
outpours his deep affection
they are in the right direction
Mar 31, 2025
Mar 31, 2025 at 4:15 AM UTC
I gaze into the moon’s eyes like
a child seeking a lost friend.
In these shadows, I find pleasure
planting seeds with roots hooked
in Fear’s rich soil spurring a hollow
tree with rotten skin.
I branch out in search of a soul,
but the majestic globe shines and
scatters the night, exposing me to
warmth that fills my belly.
I am whole, in touch with
the part of me I lost: myself.
The moon ignites a path that leads
away from a troubled past into a bright future.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC
The feeling doesn't come around very often
An old friend familiar footwise to different pastures fitting the fantasy
New experiences constructing strong someone's admirable psychology, fresh beauteous landscapes making up the ends of days that aren't quite taken for granted, but nonetheless become more and more common
As life becomes such an obvious thing to engage with, to fill the mind with an intangible, unnecessary to reconstruct explicability, defining reality
Where that ******* smirk just works, and is taken for granted
Forgive me for being jealous
As austerity and holding back defines our culture in recent times, suits and faces for hating, numbers and reports spurring disparagement, and sentiments of dream and realisation eroded and rained down with flu
Optimism becoming uphill, a difficult sentiment to come naturally, I try nonetheless when such metaphysical and intense psychedelia sits uncomfortably in the back of the mind
Fuck's sake Britain give me a break
But um..
That girl, that guy, those people, that moment in all those minds that grows from a simple glimpse of a day dream into an empowering determination, realised more and more through presences and establishments from the outside world
Those are the opportunities I'm looking for, amongst solidarity in a fluid and ****** up world
As I steal that smirk from that smug self involved person in the paradise of personality
To see into space and realise how my reflection looks good amongst such fantastical potential realisations
Yeah.. I should go to sleep, but a bit of clarity as to my direction, a little a bit of mirror monologue giving a bit of 'you're all right', well it isn't **** all to complain about.
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 7:25 PM UTC
How heavy do I journey on the way,
When what I seek, my weary travel’s end,
Doth teach that case and that repose to say,
“Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!”
The beast that bears me, tired with my woe,
Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me,
As if by some instinct the wretch did know
His rider loved not speed being made from thee.
The ****** spur cannot provoke him on
That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide,
Which heavily he answers with a groan,
More sharp to me than spurring to his side;
For that same groan doth put this in my mind:
My grief lies onward and my joy behind.
1.2k
Inside the walls of my citadel's
keep, i wander haunted halls
and rooms, broken images of
continuous life flashing light
randomly around, an epileptic's
nightmare, beamed in from
beyond, playing dangerous
paranoid games with my mind.
My grandfather's apparition
stalks me silently,
inching to the couch,
guarding the bathroom,
verifying the existence of
gravity behind door
number three, on the bed.
He approaches!!
SQUEAK-SQUEAK!!...RATTLE!!...
(Darth Elder and his walker)
SQUEAK-SQUEAK!!...RATTLE!!...
i evade his ghost of Christmas'
passed, darting to the porch and
in another entry door.
Each time i look up, his
spector stands frozen in
silhouette, spurring my adrenal
response, yet only imperceptibly
creeping, ever closer...
SQUEAK-SQUEAK!!...RATTLE!!...
He is everywhere!
EVERYWHERE!!!
Frozen in time at various locations,
practicing being dead on his bed,
re-living the now, back then in
his head, inside my head!!
There is only one solution.
i have spoken to the others:
no Christmas tree this year,
we will wrap grandfather
in colored lights and
garland, and help him
celebrate life in style.
A slightly motile tree, a
blatant festivity.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 8:04 PM UTC
Bring me home
the place where I have escaped from
is it not quite funny, that I will open my arms to jail
embracing the qualms of prison
accepting that in-equivalently freedom is overrated
silently I myself will shackle this life
swallow my breath and strangle identity
depravity will bring awareness
spurring life is the spontaneity
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 5:57 AM UTC
Mediocrity moans the ******** pleasure
Spurring melting love drips from its lips
Amateur hour whisking the air away
Volcanic ash filling the punctured lungs
Lifelessness pours downwards onto the *******
Nothing left between us
Just death and memories of the better days
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
I need to hear from you.
I just might die.
Cuz babe,
Im in love with you.
I need to hug you so tight
Cuz babe
Im in love with you.
I need you like the earth needs the moon
Baby,
I love everything about you.
You talk so sweet and
I cant stop thinking about you.
You are fresh beginings
Spurring the heat
The coolness
All combined.
Im in love with you.
I really am.
You are everything.
I know you are insecure
But baby
You are perfection
And i mean it.
I know you want to be adored
And baby
I adore you more than my life.
You are my best friend
You are my lover
You are my all.
Some day
I want to marry you.
Have a family
And be so happy.
My Queen,
Tell me
Are you just as in love?
Cuz babe
im in love with you
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 11:08 PM UTC
If I ever have kids and they want me to tell them a story,
I'll tell them the story about the three moons who changed me.
The first moon, The rival, always there to keep spurring me on to be better than I was. This was my goal, to surpass that moon.
For a time I became that moon's shadow. But I soon learned that being like that moon isn't going to get me anyway so I became my own and soared.
The second moon, An old friend, growing up this moon seemed to be there but just out of reach.
It made me grow up and learn all sorts of things.
The more this moon was around the more I learned and became me.
The moon that I am grateful to, how I enjoy this moon's company.
The third and final moon, The one who I look up to, no matter what I would ever say this moon would never agree to anything negative I would say.
It would always be there to make me see the light whilst I was stuck in the dark.
Oh how well this moon did that.
Not a day goes by where I don't think about the moon telling me to shut up and see how what I'm saying is wrong.
Thank you to the three moons who changed me.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 9:31 AM UTC
My red and rolling eighteen horsepower
think tank has been the catalyst to many a
welcome thought , spurring many a good
decision
A much needed , twice a week , two hour
break from the scatter- brained everyday
illogical world ...
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 8:44 PM UTC
*In the name of remarkable stories revealed with each precious leaf , brush stroked layered , hallowed Marigold evenings .. Every ambient , salutatory stand of communicative , native tree ... To the toasty breeze spurring the music of Mother Earth within the guarded canopy
The preordained navigation of Warbler , Grasshopper and Bumblebee
For every cloud seeking finality guised in plummeting rain
The call of Pheasant across the chilled late October plain* ....
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 7:06 PM UTC
I'm seaching for traces of you in the ether left of your short presence
The warm glow of basking in your thoughts of me
The quiet pleasure of knowing I've affected you in some way
Unruffled you refuse to give anything away
You didn't think it through
My soul has a window on you
The stony looks hide nothing of our irreverent connection
Lost to the world for seconds that fill the void with lifetimes
Scorched by those burning eyes
your glow already envelops me
Don't get too close,
Sparks have a habit of spurring flames
We know better than to mix fire with gasoline
A quick touch
Transfers so much
I am left reeling
I push you away though you still linger in my atmosphere
Standing in your vacated place
Till the last vibration of warmth dissipates
And my soul has the course to move again
searching for another chance to hover near you
In time and spaces undefined by the regular course of love.
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 6:12 PM UTC
Hearts beating like drums. All Synchronized to each other, spurring our tongues to speak, our minds to think, our souls to be…. united. In dreams and aspirations of education, influence, and love…All we ever wanted. Simplified till it sounds like a king speech, as if that’s the only way to think. But all our ideologies are as different as our English is from hieroglyphics. Similar pictures can mean different things; like a gang sign slightly varied can mean death on ill tread streets, where people think there is no where else to go but down, trying to keep their head up but not learning to swim. we can all do the backstroke if we devote some time. And we learn faster with a teacher. A friend. A collage. Anyone who has dreams. Anyone who has a heartbeat. This drive can supersede obstacles we see .and we all have the capacity. And the truth of this is in this room. With you, who may have swallowed water but never quit, not willing to submit to whatever unfair ******** arose from the septic tank under your life. And your heart’s still beating. I know you can feel the rhythm. we all can. So don’t let your shortcomings remix it to a beat that’s not your own or an inferior version of your song. Because when we step back to listen and you step up to sing, we find that our differences don’t estrange us as much as we think. Were all on the brink of understanding, so don’t be afraid to open you ears or your mouth or propel your self with action you know will make us proud.do it despite the circumstances that cloud our judgment to inadequacy. Be more than a king speech but don’t be above us for we all have dreams. We are all our own person, but we are still our people. Stand up. And don’t be afraid to do it together. It’ll only make us stronger.
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 2:47 PM UTC
The anthem ripped out from the Frontman, the Drummer, and the Bassist,
Making a sound larger than should be possible,
Their anthem ripped out through the old amps,
The music revitalizing the old speakers.
The Drummer hammered out powerfully yet precise.
His feet rattling off like machine gun fire,
His bandana tied around his brow.
The Bassist laying down a metronome-like effect to it all,
Notes swaying and dipping to the tune,
Flaring out occasionally to add more gravitas,
Showing he was still his own musician.
The Frontman declaring to the crowd of transgressions committed,
Of battles won and lost,
But also the views from the other side,
That the enemy may be man still.
A story of agony and anger,
Sorrow and Savagery,
With jubilance for the act of violence.
The Frontman's solo soaring high before axe kicking down upon the audience's heads.
The Agent was stunned,
His dropped drink forgotten,
As he reached for the payphone on the wall
The experience in front of him spurring him faster.
The Band continued,
Their sound crescendoing,
Coming to an almighty peak,
Only to begin it's decent to the earth,
Crashing down magnificently,
Down upon a dive bar in the run down part of town.
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 2:32 AM UTC
the crisp, cool morning air glistens with dew
the tough ground beats rhythmically under my feet
the distinctive, calming smell of the salty sea air
and the beauty of everything
spurring me on
keeping me going
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
I'm seaching for traces of you in the ether left of your short presence
The warm glow of basking in your thoughts of me
The quiet pleasure of knowing I've affected you in some way
Unruffled you refuse to give anything away
You didn't think it through
My soul has a window on you
The stony looks hide nothing of our irreverent connection
Lost to the world for seconds that fill the void with lifetimes
Scorched by those burning eyes
your glow already envelops me
Don't get too close,
Sparks have a habit of spurring flames
We know better than to mix fire with gasoline
A quick touch
Transfers so much
I am left reeling
I push you away though you still linger in my atmosphere
Standing in your vacated place
Till the last vibration of warmth dissipates
And my soul has the course to move again
searching for another chance to hover near you
In time and spaces undefined by the regular course of love.
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Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 8:09 PM UTC