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Come down, O Christ, and help me! reach Thy hand,
For I am drowning in a stormier sea
Than Simon on Thy lake of Galilee:
The wine of life is spilt upon the sand,
My heart is as some famine-murdered land
Whence all good things have perished utterly,
And well I know my soul in Hell must lie
If I this night before God’s throne should stand.
‘He sleeps perchance, or rideth to the chase,
Like Baal, when his prophets howled that name
From morn to noon on Carmel’s smitten height.’
Nay, peace, I shall behold, before the night,
The feet of brass, the robe more white than flame,
The wounded hands, the weary human face.
Nicole Bataclan Mar 2013
Maybe we have to argue
Let our ugly side ensue
To test whether or not
We are really that glued.

Maybe it is necessary
To check the natural nasty
If we are when petty things occur
A presage for stormier weather.

Maybe it is for our sake
Raise our voice in conflict
See if we are strong enough
When life is more than tough.

Because when times are good
Our friendship is much valued

We are as lovely
As we will ever be
An unbreakable link
And no ship to sink.

But it is when times are rough
That persuades if love is enough

We are divine
When times are fine
But our ability to sort things out
Will see if we will ever fall out.
Daniel Wetter Apr 2015
I fell in love with glimpses,
of images,
of what you were...
and what we could be.
Glimpses that blinded me.

I found myself looking behind,
to try to find that one time,
where I saw who you are.
Without the mask, and costume,
you’re convinced that you need to wear.
Convinced by your beautiful soul, smile and hair.
That they are not, and never would be enough.

Overcompensation is your image.

The reflection of perfection, in a flawed mirror.

But those glimpses of purity, were purely and surely
who you really are.
But if you don’t know it, how could I?
How could I see,
and feel,
and experience,
the you that "you" run away from.
So often, that it has to be bad for you,
and tire you out.
Why else would you run?
Have you become so accustomed to feeling numb,
that feeling anything else is feeling dumb?
and weird?
to seek out the flaws that make you unique?

Flaws is the harshest word you’ve ever heard
But the beauty I see in it,
and you,
are what keep me afloat during the stormier times.
Times from stories we don’t tell to anyone,
but remember as we lay awake at night.
Left wondering which secret story it was,
that sealed the deal.

Like a brand new prescription,
these glimpses of you give me hope,
that this time will be different.
I will pace myself, with this new addiction.
Far from a joke, but who am I kidding?
I’m the only one laughing,
manic and panicked.
Standing defeated, from believing I had it.
The comfort in pain just waiting for you to shine on through;
proves that if I’m not chasing her, and if I’m not chasing you,
I’m running in place, in a race that I’ll lose.
But losing you is not a loss,
thats just our love and what it cost.
http://modern-adolescence-poetics.tumblr.com/
Neil T Weakley Nov 2013
Scent of stormier seas,
        strange incense of Nature's spirit
        confessing it's dark thoughts.
Kurt Philip Behm Mar 2022
The more I think I really know,
the less I understand

The farther out to sea I drift,
the more I miss the land

The stormier the days repeat,
my soul to chase the sun

The rules I once thought hard and fast,
denounced and on the run

The more I think, the less I feel,
my spirit inexcused

The hours spent off from myself,
those times I stay confused

As days fade into sleepless nights,
the moon to haunt my dreams

Where wishes live to hope again
—if I can just believe

(1st Book Of Prayers: June, 2019)
Tiger Striped Jan 2019
We dream in the dark
too close to our hearts
to be hidden from view
to be scattered askew
like the raindrops that fall
through windows, down walls
aside bleak shooting stars
that land somewhere too far
away from our hearts,
as we dream in the dark.

We dream in the dark,
finding it hard to see
what's in front of ourselves
equally cluelessly.
It's funny how different
we see things in this light -
I'm dreaming at midday,
you're dreaming at night.
I stood next to you
as we walked down the street
you watched people pass by
and I watched our feet.
I thought you might hear
the thoughts my mind screamed
I forgot you weren't listening
I forgot that we dreamed.
I forgot, since the start
we have dreamed in the dark.

We dream in the dark,
we dream and we paint
now in this state of mind
I might lose track of fate
I don't see the sun rising
for the colors and strokes
I don't hear the clock ticking
for the words that you spoke.
But still, time will exist
as well as will fate
regardless of us
and our ignorant state.
I can sleep days away
I can close my mind's eye
and it won't change a thing
it won't buy any time.
So I hide the same thoughts
in the back of my mind
for a stormier day
for a much colder night
hide the dangerous art
that I dream in the dark.
Kurt Philip Behm Jun 2019
The more I think I really know,
  the less I understand

The further out to sea I drift,
  the more I miss the land

The stormier the days repeat,
  my soul to chase the sun

The rules I once thought hard and fast,
  denounced and on the run

The more I think, the less I feel,
   my spirit inexcused

The hours spent off from myself,
  those times I stay confused

As days drift into sleepless nights,
   the moon to haunt my dreams

Where wishes live to hope again
  —if I can just believe

(Villanova University: June, 2019)
acacia May 2017
he kisses me
and undos my belt.
unzips my pants and
pulls them down roughly.
“i want you, i want you so bad.”
he whispers with alcohol riding his breath.

i slide my tongue down his jaw
and lick the sides of his neck with my
umber fingers running through his sable hair
and his blue eyes a stormier gray than yesterday.

“lift me up and let me ride
your charm and ride your love.”
i say and would be happy to do this again
tomorrow; just a little too laid back yet a little too rough.

i pray for you every night.
every night, i do.

— The End —