"streamed" poems - Hello Poetry

"streamed" poems

there’s a barnacle scar deeply ingrained on the basalt stack at mark thirty two whispering summer winds scented oil cotton and roe drift as waves brush and shape the sandstone shore the briny air and lost erratic set a tone to this pollyanna portrait it's andrews undulations and gifted benches its concessions and traces of the barry burn its sculpted driftwood and sanko lines make this picture almost perfect children play as venom spews from the caterwaul pair those odd looking mates casting smiles with arrested despair settling shots swiping bugs dipping and darting as photo men and muscles and long neck seabirds make their turn the hunched hoody and his sorted sidekick get their fill (of moss and rubble ~ chubby and kelp) nice to meet your acquaintance the pho man would say an odd drop and ironic turn from those horrific corners of timeless desperation down by cannon bridge harbor seals and carriage horse are fronted by raven shade jolly tides pause in quiet bays (with curious looters and *** pickers) sand merchants and field totems all streamed by the light cirrus strands blanket the outer edge hovering craft and shimmering willows bolt the evening frame blood orange and tethered with a filtered glare bottle-nose dolphins and seabirds (and shifting tides) are all settling in for the long night stay

0

Mar 9, 2017

Mar 9, 2017 at 11:21 PM UTC

there’s a barnacle scar deeply ingrained on the basalt stack at mark thirty two whispering summer winds scented oil cotton and roe drift as waves brush and shape the sandstone shore the briny air and lost erratic set a tone to this pollyanna portrait it's andrews undulations and gifted benches its concessions and traces of the barry burn its sculpted driftwood and sanko lines make this picture almost perfect children play as venom spews from the caterwaul pair those odd looking mates casting smiles with arrested despair settling shots swiping bugs dipping and darting as photo men and muscles and long neck seabirds make their turn the hunched hoody and his sorted sidekick get their fill (of moss and rubble ~ chubby and kelp) nice to meet your acquaintance the pho man would say an odd drop and ironic turn from those horrific corners of timeless desperation down by cannon bridge harbor seals and carriage horse are fronted by raven shade jolly tides pause in quiet bays (with curious looters and *** pickers) sand merchants and field totems all streamed by the light cirrus strands blanket the outer edge hovering craft and shimmering willows bolt the evening frame blood orange and tethered with a filtered glare bottle-nose dolphins and seabirds (and shifting tides) are all settling in for the long night stay

Continue reading...

I remember the history well: The soldiers and politicians emerged With briefcases and guns And celebrations on city nights. They scoured the mess Reviewed our history Saw the executions at dawn Then signed with secret policemen And decided something Had to be done. They scoured the mess Resurrected old blue-prints Of vicious times Tracked the shapes of sinking cities And learned at last That nothing can be avoided And so avoided everything. I remember the history well. 2 We emerged from our ******* mounds Discovered a view of the sky As the air danced in heat. Through the view of the city In flames, we rewound times Of executions at beaches. Salt streamed down our brows. Everywhere stagger victims of rigged elections Monolithic accidents on hungry roads The infinite web of ethnic politics Power-dreams of fevered winds. The nation was a map stitched From the grabbing of future flesh And became a rush through Historical slime 3 We emerged on edge Of time future With bright fumes From burning towers. The fumes lit political rallies. We started a war Ended it And dreamed about our chance. Fat fish eat little fish Big ones arrange executions And armed robberies. Our ******* shapes us all. I remember the history well. The tiger’s snarl is bought In currencies of silence. Eggs grow large: A monstrous face is hatched. On the edge of time future I am a boy With running sores Of remember history Watching the stitches widen Waiting for the volcano’s laughter In the fevered winds Hearing the gnash Of those who will join us At the mighty gateways With new blue-prints With dew as seal And fire as constant And a trail through time past To us Who remember the history well. We weave words on red And sing on the edge of blue. And with our nerves primed We shall spin silk from ******* And frame time with our resolve. ________ Source: http://www.universeofpoetry.org/nigeria.shtml

0

17.4k

On Edge of Time Future

I remember the history well: The soldiers and politicians emerged With briefcases and guns And celebrations on city nights. They scoured the mess Reviewed our history Saw the executions at dawn Then signed with secret policemen And decided something Had to be done. They scoured the mess Resurrected old blue-prints Of vicious times Tracked the shapes of sinking cities And learned at last That nothing can be avoided And so avoided everything. I remember the history well. 2 We emerged from our ******* mounds Discovered a view of the sky As the air danced in heat. Through the view of the city In flames, we rewound times Of executions at beaches. Salt streamed down our brows. Everywhere stagger victims of rigged elections Monolithic accidents on hungry roads The infinite web of ethnic politics Power-dreams of fevered winds. The nation was a map stitched From the grabbing of future flesh And became a rush through Historical slime 3 We emerged on edge Of time future With bright fumes From burning towers. The fumes lit political rallies. We started a war Ended it And dreamed about our chance. Fat fish eat little fish Big ones arrange executions And armed robberies. Our ******* shapes us all. I remember the history well. The tiger’s snarl is bought In currencies of silence. Eggs grow large: A monstrous face is hatched. On the edge of time future I am a boy With running sores Of remember history Watching the stitches widen Waiting for the volcano’s laughter In the fevered winds Hearing the gnash Of those who will join us At the mighty gateways With new blue-prints With dew as seal And fire as constant And a trail through time past To us Who remember the history well. We weave words on red And sing on the edge of blue. And with our nerves primed We shall spin silk from ******* And frame time with our resolve. ________ Source: http://www.universeofpoetry.org/nigeria.shtml

Continue reading...

It was my thirtieth year to heaven Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood And the mussel pooled and the heron Priested shore The morning beckon With water praying and call of seagull and rook And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall Myself to set foot That second In the still sleeping town and set forth. My birthday began with the water- Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name Above the farms and the white horses And I rose In rainy autumn And walked abroad in a shower of all my days. High tide and the heron dived when I took the road Over the border And the gates Of the town closed as the town awoke. A springful of larks in a rolling Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling Blackbirds and the sun of October Summery On the hill's shoulder, Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly Come in the morning where I wandered and listened To the rain wringing Wind blow cold In the wood faraway under me. Pale rain over the dwindling harbour And over the sea wet church the size of a snail With its horns through mist and the castle Brown as owls But all the gardens Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud. There could I marvel My birthday Away but the weather turned around. It turned away from the blithe country And down the other air and the blue altered sky Streamed again a wonder of summer With apples Pears and red currants And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother Through the parables Of sun light And the legends of the green chapels And the twice told fields of infancy That his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine. These were the woods the river and sea Where a boy In the listening Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide. And the mystery Sang alive Still in the water and singingbirds. And there could I marvel my birthday Away but the weather turned around. And the true Joy of the long dead child sang burning In the sun. It was my thirtieth Year to heaven stood there then in the summer noon Though the town below lay leaved with October blood. O may my heart's truth Still be sung On this high hill in a year's turning.

0

12.2k

Poem In October

It was my thirtieth year to heaven Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood And the mussel pooled and the heron Priested shore The morning beckon With water praying and call of seagull and rook And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall Myself to set foot That second In the still sleeping town and set forth. My birthday began with the water- Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name Above the farms and the white horses And I rose In rainy autumn And walked abroad in a shower of all my days. High tide and the heron dived when I took the road Over the border And the gates Of the town closed as the town awoke. A springful of larks in a rolling Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling Blackbirds and the sun of October Summery On the hill's shoulder, Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly Come in the morning where I wandered and listened To the rain wringing Wind blow cold In the wood faraway under me. Pale rain over the dwindling harbour And over the sea wet church the size of a snail With its horns through mist and the castle Brown as owls But all the gardens Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud. There could I marvel My birthday Away but the weather turned around. It turned away from the blithe country And down the other air and the blue altered sky Streamed again a wonder of summer With apples Pears and red currants And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother Through the parables Of sun light And the legends of the green chapels And the twice told fields of infancy That his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine. These were the woods the river and sea Where a boy In the listening Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide. And the mystery Sang alive Still in the water and singingbirds. And there could I marvel my birthday Away but the weather turned around. And the true Joy of the long dead child sang burning In the sun. It was my thirtieth Year to heaven stood there then in the summer noon Though the town below lay leaved with October blood. O may my heart's truth Still be sung On this high hill in a year's turning.

Continue reading...

The Eid is bustling with joy come let’s give it a try f l y away! To the deathless groovy paradise floating high on the elixir flow: The triumphant joyous wave streamed up from the secret bottom line! Up above the lapis lazuli sky. A pair of butterfly basks in the sunlight quietly indulges in style. It goes on in slow motion illuminating the night a firefly perches on a slice of the Moon flanked by the moonlight. But you and me we will rhyme and chant in our lovely mother tongue. In the same original lingua like ‘Adam speaks up and all angels listen in paradise’. Come let’s give it a try f l y away! On the wings of the moonlight we will s a i l away! Ambling by the Moon we'll **** through the starry nooks. Eyes open and gently perched atop a star for a moment or two. We will see miles of galaxies over the moonlit lakes of the blue playing cool ravishing lutes! The spring night is in bloom and the cute sleeping beauty wakes up playing the flute! Musical half lights filling the sky. Come let’s give it a try f l y away! We’ll drink sharaban tahura the holy wine of paradise and once for all we will k i s s the death goodbye! Our story will fill the divine soil the heaven's flora and fauna each and everyone will shine on our page no houri will ever say finito singing our tale! As Adam did it first stunned the angels telling the nature of all things in paradise. We will do that once more without a smirk this time we will see the loving Creator!

0

Aug 23, 2018

Aug 23, 2018 at 1:04 PM UTC

Eid Mubarak - Lets Fly Paradise

The Eid is bustling with joy come let’s give it a try f l y away! To the deathless groovy paradise floating high on the elixir flow: The triumphant joyous wave streamed up from the secret bottom line! Up above the lapis lazuli sky. A pair of butterfly basks in the sunlight quietly indulges in style. It goes on in slow motion illuminating the night a firefly perches on a slice of the Moon flanked by the moonlight. But you and me we will rhyme and chant in our lovely mother tongue. In the same original lingua like ‘Adam speaks up and all angels listen in paradise’. Come let’s give it a try f l y away! On the wings of the moonlight we will s a i l away! Ambling by the Moon we'll **** through the starry nooks. Eyes open and gently perched atop a star for a moment or two. We will see miles of galaxies over the moonlit lakes of the blue playing cool ravishing lutes! The spring night is in bloom and the cute sleeping beauty wakes up playing the flute! Musical half lights filling the sky. Come let’s give it a try f l y away! We’ll drink sharaban tahura the holy wine of paradise and once for all we will k i s s the death goodbye! Our story will fill the divine soil the heaven's flora and fauna each and everyone will shine on our page no houri will ever say finito singing our tale! As Adam did it first stunned the angels telling the nature of all things in paradise. We will do that once more without a smirk this time we will see the loving Creator!

Continue reading...

in the year 2462 those with nails protruding from their palms will talk in ancient tongues & sway the tribes of men to eternal love, & endless ammunition of the soul. spiritus. kin, galactic & the golden fire. throb the saga of man, into hip ****** illusions and combustive color schematas. we bury our dead in flower clippings or skull bits. [skateboarding rises as the highest form of intellectual sport] thrum and plum-bum the sewers of electric babylon. hive city reaching past gasp and wasteland, her lips ruinous. cement slabs and coils of fault with vast artistic possibilities. these skate-lords from their heaps, their clans, augmenting & rattling bone masks grinding themselves into meat-bit heroics & death. their teeth are yellowy awoken. this is all seen globally, via tele-cast-com-core-mind-warp-tech. or video. dreams impact reality impact dreams in such that the cathode cortex filter, invented circa 2222, evolves into a demi-god, a solar charged demon of unlimited knowledge. & it mutates the psychosphere of our mainstream public mind with countless projected memories. [streamed alternate realities] fills the belly and the brain, but all those unhooked are skating. sweet meat market. ghost harddrives. poor leftovers called children of the once-was-men & their poolside parties. they leap the rubble of centuries old plastic icons, their boards, their weapons, their seeds and spit. they hang chains from their necks & spew black flame from their sunshaded boot-click lickings. they drink from large bottlesof elixer distilled on old flowers & worship archaic cassettes. cults of cyborg women with gem-tipped-blade-additions carve wooden planks from groves of great oaks. great oaken powers. their creators chew gummies and bend time to uphold a proposed history of perfection. they master pong from their crystalline towers, & hire mathematicians to write conceptual skate-deck algorithms, solely for fun. non-profit.

0

Jul 18, 2014

Jul 18, 2014 at 5:49 AM UTC

future primitive

in the year 2462 those with nails protruding from their palms will talk in ancient tongues & sway the tribes of men to eternal love, & endless ammunition of the soul. spiritus. kin, galactic & the golden fire. throb the saga of man, into hip ****** illusions and combustive color schematas. we bury our dead in flower clippings or skull bits. [skateboarding rises as the highest form of intellectual sport] thrum and plum-bum the sewers of electric babylon. hive city reaching past gasp and wasteland, her lips ruinous. cement slabs and coils of fault with vast artistic possibilities. these skate-lords from their heaps, their clans, augmenting & rattling bone masks grinding themselves into meat-bit heroics & death. their teeth are yellowy awoken. this is all seen globally, via tele-cast-com-core-mind-warp-tech. or video. dreams impact reality impact dreams in such that the cathode cortex filter, invented circa 2222, evolves into a demi-god, a solar charged demon of unlimited knowledge. & it mutates the psychosphere of our mainstream public mind with countless projected memories. [streamed alternate realities] fills the belly and the brain, but all those unhooked are skating. sweet meat market. ghost harddrives. poor leftovers called children of the once-was-men & their poolside parties. they leap the rubble of centuries old plastic icons, their boards, their weapons, their seeds and spit. they hang chains from their necks & spew black flame from their sunshaded boot-click lickings. they drink from large bottlesof elixer distilled on old flowers & worship archaic cassettes. cults of cyborg women with gem-tipped-blade-additions carve wooden planks from groves of great oaks. great oaken powers. their creators chew gummies and bend time to uphold a proposed history of perfection. they master pong from their crystalline towers, & hire mathematicians to write conceptual skate-deck algorithms, solely for fun. non-profit.

Continue reading...

The Revolution will not be pay-per-view, Streamed online, or listed in the TV Guide, The Revolution will be LIVE ON AIR Rush seating No reservations First to come are first to serve The Revolution will not be monetarily politicized, the Revolution will be patronized Next, On the World Today Network: Revolution This Way Comes The Revolution will not be a mutually exclusive for CBC, BBC, CNN, YouTube, Facebook, SnapChat, or Instagram The Revolution is more than digital trolling, It will be a Counter-Electronic-Magnetic-Pulse Do you have your passport for the Revolution? The Revolution is unauthorized Written for and by all the people The Revolution is radical, hands-on, and requires assembly Batteries are not included and there is no manufacturer’s warantee, The Revolution will be uncomfortable for those living in leisure For it has been bred to cause the Elite displeasure Revolution 99% Uploaded Press [ENTER] key to initiate collective action ~ NM 10/17/15

0

Dec 28, 2018

Dec 28, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC

MoreBeautifulThanSilence

The Revolution Will Not Be a One-Time-Only YouTube Sensation

The Revolution will not be pay-per-view, Streamed online, or listed in the TV Guide, The Revolution will be LIVE ON AIR Rush seating No reservations First to come are first to serve The Revolution will not be monetarily politicized, the Revolution will be patronized Next, On the World Today Network: Revolution This Way Comes The Revolution will not be a mutually exclusive for CBC, BBC, CNN, YouTube, Facebook, SnapChat, or Instagram The Revolution is more than digital trolling, It will be a Counter-Electronic-Magnetic-Pulse Do you have your passport for the Revolution? The Revolution is unauthorized Written for and by all the people The Revolution is radical, hands-on, and requires assembly Batteries are not included and there is no manufacturer’s warantee, The Revolution will be uncomfortable for those living in leisure For it has been bred to cause the Elite displeasure Revolution 99% Uploaded Press [ENTER] key to initiate collective action ~ NM 10/17/15

Continue reading...

A lonesome figure stood upon the crashing waves Extended arms to the darkest skies Screaming out her fury at the heavens above For the bitter storms she had survived Tears streamed from weary eyes so tired of battle Small shoulders shook in agony Cursing the very things that made her stronger As this, she could not see Why me? She moaned and wailed in a mournful tone Hot fear still gripping her heart While forgetting that she was alive and well to cry The most incredibly, important part Those bitter storms will come and they will pass They will never stay too long Remember when you are screaming out in fury It is The Storms that make you strong

0

Sep 14, 2010

Sep 14, 2010 at 10:07 AM UTC

A lonesome figure stood upon the crashing waves Extended arms to the darkest skies Screaming out her fury at the heavens above For the bitter storms she had survived Tears streamed from weary eyes so tired of battle Small shoulders shook in agony Cursing the very things that made her stronger As this, she could not see Why me? She moaned and wailed in a mournful tone Hot fear still gripping her heart While forgetting that she was alive and well to cry The most incredibly, important part Those bitter storms will come and they will pass They will never stay too long Remember when you are screaming out in fury It is The Storms that make you strong

Continue reading...

Flash. Dash. Blank. Tank. I'm So Scared. I've Frightened Myself. I Died. I'm Blinded. All My Hopes, Sanity. I've Drowned. My Heart Was A Loud Pound. It Was A Disgrace...I Was Misplaced.. I Got Lost. My Screams Would Burst. I Fell And Bowed. My Knees Hit The Cold Hard Ground. My Arm Bleed And Ran So Wildly..Cuts,Scratches,Scars, All That Was Just A Simple Song...A Melody..My Blade Was Like A Same Old Tired Repeated Beat Against My Wrist... My Skin The Thing That Makes Us Humans Have Beauty...Was Slit Open. I Bounced Nearly Pounced..... Tried To Smile. Tried To Laugh. All I Did Was Cry. Because I Failed At All My Tries. My Head Buried In My Arm...My Face Turned Red As The Apples That Lied On The Counter.... Tears Streamed Fast As A River. They Fell Like The Rain Just Like August 17, 2014 The Thunder...The Lightening...The Pouring Rain...It Scared Me More....The Pain...Only If It Drained......Stop..........My Heart Skips Many Beats.....I Wish My Blankets Would Heat Me Up...I'm Cold...Scared...Love..I'm Really Scared..

0

Aug 19, 2014

Aug 19, 2014 at 1:42 PM UTC

hannah-ruebush-fate

Flash. Dash. Blank. Tank. I'm So Scared. I've Frightened Myself. I Died. I'm Blinded. All My Hopes, Sanity. I've Drowned. My Heart Was A Loud Pound. It Was A Disgrace...I Was Misplaced.. I Got Lost. My Screams Would Burst. I Fell And Bowed. My Knees Hit The Cold Hard Ground. My Arm Bleed And Ran So Wildly..Cuts,Scratches,Scars, All That Was Just A Simple Song...A Melody..My Blade Was Like A Same Old Tired Repeated Beat Against My Wrist... My Skin The Thing That Makes Us Humans Have Beauty...Was Slit Open. I Bounced Nearly Pounced..... Tried To Smile. Tried To Laugh. All I Did Was Cry. Because I Failed At All My Tries. My Head Buried In My Arm...My Face Turned Red As The Apples That Lied On The Counter.... Tears Streamed Fast As A River. They Fell Like The Rain Just Like August 17, 2014 The Thunder...The Lightening...The Pouring Rain...It Scared Me More....The Pain...Only If It Drained......Stop..........My Heart Skips Many Beats.....I Wish My Blankets Would Heat Me Up...I'm Cold...Scared...Love..I'm Really Scared..

Continue reading...

You were both hell and heaven Fire arose within Every word you said, every breath taken was passion and heat Like the kind we shared between the sheets. But there was hurt in your eyes You couldn’t imagine being a sinner Every night, You lay by my side I told you I was no good. You told them “there’s nothing I wouldn’t give her.” For a second I thought I was being saved. It felt religious believing with you Courageous game, but we still played. It was a dangerous world for us fools Every piece of you was lost in a prayer. My love for you was The Enemy. And, my love, He was cruel. Tears streamed down when I speak, with my palms together, I knelt down and repeat; This man is a soul I am nothing but a body Never met a god This life has been sold, Never to what I thought. I’ve lied in bed with what scares me most! I have sinned, I have sinned! But please, hear me out, first— with a benevolent grin He took me in— Don’t forgive me, father I’m a sin.

0

Apr 5, 2018

Apr 5, 2018 at 12:45 AM UTC

Heaven is a good man, Hell is a bad woman. And neither are real.

You were both hell and heaven Fire arose within Every word you said, every breath taken was passion and heat Like the kind we shared between the sheets. But there was hurt in your eyes You couldn’t imagine being a sinner Every night, You lay by my side I told you I was no good. You told them “there’s nothing I wouldn’t give her.” For a second I thought I was being saved. It felt religious believing with you Courageous game, but we still played. It was a dangerous world for us fools Every piece of you was lost in a prayer. My love for you was The Enemy. And, my love, He was cruel. Tears streamed down when I speak, with my palms together, I knelt down and repeat; This man is a soul I am nothing but a body Never met a god This life has been sold, Never to what I thought. I’ve lied in bed with what scares me most! I have sinned, I have sinned! But please, hear me out, first— with a benevolent grin He took me in— Don’t forgive me, father I’m a sin.

Continue reading...

A woman drew herself up from wrecked wood at the bottom of the ocean; whispered sea-songs into the wistful ear of a long lost love; shook her locks 'til his heart beat faster; looked longer than she should into the deep pools of his pleading eyes. "I will call you when I want to; I will call you when I want." Cooled his temples; breathed her watery breath as silvered beads streamed down his shocked skin. ....... Rumors rock an empty drifting boat; a glazed shell faced with priceless pearl broken from its moorings, strangled by a knotted rope. "You have not chosen me, but I have chosen you" Hold fast the bestowed gift, your Quinquireme of stowed treasure. Protect its precious structure. "Who are you, the one who stripped my soul? Who is the third who stole yours?" ......... Broken from netting I lie a beached starfish on burning sand, wishing the waves to wash me back through Time's receding current to find the silence that once was; to turn away before the sacrifice, before the Eye of the storm. copyright © Caroline Grace 2010

0

May 20, 2010

May 20, 2010 at 2:05 AM UTC

The Eye of the storm

A woman drew herself up from wrecked wood at the bottom of the ocean; whispered sea-songs into the wistful ear of a long lost love; shook her locks 'til his heart beat faster; looked longer than she should into the deep pools of his pleading eyes. "I will call you when I want to; I will call you when I want." Cooled his temples; breathed her watery breath as silvered beads streamed down his shocked skin. ....... Rumors rock an empty drifting boat; a glazed shell faced with priceless pearl broken from its moorings, strangled by a knotted rope. "You have not chosen me, but I have chosen you" Hold fast the bestowed gift, your Quinquireme of stowed treasure. Protect its precious structure. "Who are you, the one who stripped my soul? Who is the third who stole yours?" ......... Broken from netting I lie a beached starfish on burning sand, wishing the waves to wash me back through Time's receding current to find the silence that once was; to turn away before the sacrifice, before the Eye of the storm. copyright © Caroline Grace 2010

Continue reading...

Today was a good day The chords she strummed were pleasant Melodic C, G, F She plucked my strings gently Her voice was light She doesn't miss him As much as she did Yesterday Today Not so good She played the song again And again "I feel something so wrong Doing the right thing" She ripped at my strings Till her fingers bled And tears streamed down her face Her voice was quiet Choked She missed him Very much Today was okay She played the song "Everything that kills me Makes me feel alive" But just once this time It was flawless But she forced a smile as she sang Like the song meant nothing It didn't hurt Her fingertips were healed There was applause She whispered "Thank you" Today was a good day again The chords weren't as flawless As yesterday She made mistakes But her voice was strong "I feel that love And I feel it burn" She missed him More than ever But he's the reason I stayed Why I wasn't put away He mattered because He's her muse Her life The harmony to her melody And hopefully He'll know soon

0

Jun 9, 2014

Jun 9, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC

Today was a good day The chords she strummed were pleasant Melodic C, G, F She plucked my strings gently Her voice was light She doesn't miss him As much as she did Yesterday Today Not so good She played the song again And again "I feel something so wrong Doing the right thing" She ripped at my strings Till her fingers bled And tears streamed down her face Her voice was quiet Choked She missed him Very much Today was okay She played the song "Everything that kills me Makes me feel alive" But just once this time It was flawless But she forced a smile as she sang Like the song meant nothing It didn't hurt Her fingertips were healed There was applause She whispered "Thank you" Today was a good day again The chords weren't as flawless As yesterday She made mistakes But her voice was strong "I feel that love And I feel it burn" She missed him More than ever But he's the reason I stayed Why I wasn't put away He mattered because He's her muse Her life The harmony to her melody And hopefully He'll know soon

Continue reading...

Humanity is at the ****** of connection Connection is plastered to our bones It’s on our wrists dinging reminding us to take our steps that will apparently make us one with nature, it’s latched to our arms so while we are so spent attaching ourselves to nature that we don’t have to attach our phones to our hands, it’s our sun rise, it’s our evening prayer, heck it’s the only thing reminding us to wake up in the morning and connect with these people that we can only reach through these dull technological connections. Facebook says we’re here to help you connect! The Bible app dings remindign you, “keep in check!” You’re surrounded by connection, it immerses you and embraces you with its WiFi streamed arms and blue tinted light But shouldn’t you be embracing the connection? Shouldn’t you be the one to swallow connection? Shouldn’t you be the one to amplify connection? Humanity is at the ****** of connection but we are disconnected.. Shouldn’t the rate of depression fall not rise with every purchase of an iPhone. We are disconnected From ourselves from nature from the spiritual realm and from each other because we connect our souls to these arguable objects of connection. Seems like we need an intervention from connection. Shouldn’t connection flow within our bones and not simply be plastered to it? Connection is around us, but we’re not making the connection

0

Mar 5, 2019

Mar 5, 2019 at 9:26 PM UTC

Humanity is at the ****** of connection Connection is plastered to our bones It’s on our wrists dinging reminding us to take our steps that will apparently make us one with nature, it’s latched to our arms so while we are so spent attaching ourselves to nature that we don’t have to attach our phones to our hands, it’s our sun rise, it’s our evening prayer, heck it’s the only thing reminding us to wake up in the morning and connect with these people that we can only reach through these dull technological connections. Facebook says we’re here to help you connect! The Bible app dings remindign you, “keep in check!” You’re surrounded by connection, it immerses you and embraces you with its WiFi streamed arms and blue tinted light But shouldn’t you be embracing the connection? Shouldn’t you be the one to swallow connection? Shouldn’t you be the one to amplify connection? Humanity is at the ****** of connection but we are disconnected.. Shouldn’t the rate of depression fall not rise with every purchase of an iPhone. We are disconnected From ourselves from nature from the spiritual realm and from each other because we connect our souls to these arguable objects of connection. Seems like we need an intervention from connection. Shouldn’t connection flow within our bones and not simply be plastered to it? Connection is around us, but we’re not making the connection

Continue reading...

I clenched my fist and gritted my teeth as I gulped; My head tilted upwards and stared at the sky filled with the blue color that reminds me of your eyes filled with wonders, trying not to look directly into the windows of your soul; I did all these not to suppress my anger, but something even more difficult; But no matter what I do, everything is not under my control and will never be For these tears still streamed down my cheeks filled with deep sorrow and melancholy; Yes, it's hard; It's making me bleed so much that I feel like I'm dying yet still continuing to breathe; It's far more arduous than any predicament that I have encountered in my whole existence; Yet I still have to do it; For I cannot continue any longer to hurt you by offering you my heart, my dear; As you continue to heal and purify all my sins While all I ever do is corrupt your soul and drag you in the the deepest and darkest abyss that I call home; Darling, I am now setting you free and breaking the chains that restrict you from ascending into the limitless sky where you truly belong, so flap you wings and fly to your well-being; Goodbye.

0

Jul 26, 2018

Jul 26, 2018 at 1:40 PM UTC

I clenched my fist and gritted my teeth as I gulped; My head tilted upwards and stared at the sky filled with the blue color that reminds me of your eyes filled with wonders, trying not to look directly into the windows of your soul; I did all these not to suppress my anger, but something even more difficult; But no matter what I do, everything is not under my control and will never be For these tears still streamed down my cheeks filled with deep sorrow and melancholy; Yes, it's hard; It's making me bleed so much that I feel like I'm dying yet still continuing to breathe; It's far more arduous than any predicament that I have encountered in my whole existence; Yet I still have to do it; For I cannot continue any longer to hurt you by offering you my heart, my dear; As you continue to heal and purify all my sins While all I ever do is corrupt your soul and drag you in the the deepest and darkest abyss that I call home; Darling, I am now setting you free and breaking the chains that restrict you from ascending into the limitless sky where you truly belong, so flap you wings and fly to your well-being; Goodbye.

Continue reading...

I wonder what language you were speaking. Was it pure psycho-babble? Were the words pure? Were you reciting the words to a song? Were you singing? Could I see your beauty? Were you even cognitive, were you thinking underneath the muttering, heavy clamor of words that jail-broke from your mouth and streamed into existence, flooding the men and woman carrying bags and carts under the artificial lights and long lines Did you think that vomit-mumble-speaking all over a single Korean mother and her young child was imposing or threatening in anyway? If you’d have taken a step closer to her I would have had to step in, but she quietly left her place and dragged her shy looking boy with her as he stared at the ground- and we did our best to turn you into a ghost, clattering pipes in the empty walls- I wonder how many rugs you’ve been swept under. How many times people have tried and failed to plug up the holes in your leaky brain. How many times you’ve tried help yourself. How many times someone has failed you- how many times you’ve failed someone else. How many occasions exactly like this people ignored you as you rambled on about nothing in a Superstore like a broken record skipping unpredictable sick scratched torn

0

Nov 27, 2014

Nov 27, 2014 at 6:25 PM UTC

the superstore line

I wonder what language you were speaking. Was it pure psycho-babble? Were the words pure? Were you reciting the words to a song? Were you singing? Could I see your beauty? Were you even cognitive, were you thinking underneath the muttering, heavy clamor of words that jail-broke from your mouth and streamed into existence, flooding the men and woman carrying bags and carts under the artificial lights and long lines Did you think that vomit-mumble-speaking all over a single Korean mother and her young child was imposing or threatening in anyway? If you’d have taken a step closer to her I would have had to step in, but she quietly left her place and dragged her shy looking boy with her as he stared at the ground- and we did our best to turn you into a ghost, clattering pipes in the empty walls- I wonder how many rugs you’ve been swept under. How many times people have tried and failed to plug up the holes in your leaky brain. How many times you’ve tried help yourself. How many times someone has failed you- how many times you’ve failed someone else. How many occasions exactly like this people ignored you as you rambled on about nothing in a Superstore like a broken record skipping unpredictable sick scratched torn

Continue reading...

It was more like I was slowly sinking deeper and deeper each day You poured your love into me And it drenched my heart streamed through my veins Soaking every single cell of my body Leaking out of the pores of my skin And dripping from my fingertips To bleed into everything I touch It flooded my chest And filled up my lungs Until it spilled out of my mouth Trickling from my tongue Saturating every single word I say It flowed through every part of me And eventually seeped into my bones Making all that I am Crave all that you are I never fell in love with you I drowned in it

0

Jun 14, 2021

Jun 14, 2021 at 3:53 PM UTC

I never fell in love with you

It was more like I was slowly sinking deeper and deeper each day You poured your love into me And it drenched my heart streamed through my veins Soaking every single cell of my body Leaking out of the pores of my skin And dripping from my fingertips To bleed into everything I touch It flooded my chest And filled up my lungs Until it spilled out of my mouth Trickling from my tongue Saturating every single word I say It flowed through every part of me And eventually seeped into my bones Making all that I am Crave all that you are I never fell in love with you I drowned in it

Continue reading...

where were you? my umbrella, my saving grace. when i was standing in rain, the drops littering my face like tears when the tears leaked out and streamed down my face like rain where were you? my umbrella, my saving grace. you never showed up when i needed you.

0

May 20, 2019

May 20, 2019 at 12:48 AM UTC

"but if i sit in the rain maybe i can drown in something other than my own thoughts" - j.w

where were you? my umbrella, my saving grace. when i was standing in rain, the drops littering my face like tears when the tears leaked out and streamed down my face like rain where were you? my umbrella, my saving grace. you never showed up when i needed you.

Continue reading...

Teary eyes, Are like lullabies, For a broken soul, Sometimes, You have to lie, Because you play a role. Teary eyes, they sometimes follow you to sleep, Teary eyes show pain, Even when you can't fully weep. No one knew she had teary eyes, She blamed the dust in the air, But on the inside all she wanted to do, Was pull out all of her hair. She stared into the mirror as finally tears streamed down her face. All she could do was point out all the things she hates. For years she struggled like this, Hating her every breath, Soon enough, She began to wish for death. But what she didn't know, Was that to a boy, She was the love of his life. One day he noticed, That her arms have been under a knife, He showed up to her door that day, Asked to take her for a walk, As they trailed the sidewalk, He said they needed to talk. She was confused, Then she saw the sorrow on his face. She asked him what was wrong, Thinking maybe she could relate. Then he quietly whispered, "I love everything that you hate." The tears that were once in her eyes, Slowly began to fade. She looked into his eyes, With a slight smile began to say, "Every part of me, even the ones I hate, have loved you, since the very first day". As the realization sets in, they decide to part ways. That night, the girl with teary eyes, Looked into the mirror, And threw away the blade, Not because he loved her, But because she wanted to stay. Seeing the sorrow on his face, Helped her replace all her tears, For she realized that someone, really truly cared. She knew she no longer needed to fear. Though she wasn't cured, She knew she wanted to heal. Finally her feelings, Began to feel real. Teary eyes are temporary, Wounds will always heal, Blades wont help you. They don't find a way to feel.

0

Apr 29, 2015

Apr 29, 2015 at 7:28 AM UTC

JulietteYvette7

Teary eyes, Are like lullabies, For a broken soul, Sometimes, You have to lie, Because you play a role. Teary eyes, they sometimes follow you to sleep, Teary eyes show pain, Even when you can't fully weep. No one knew she had teary eyes, She blamed the dust in the air, But on the inside all she wanted to do, Was pull out all of her hair. She stared into the mirror as finally tears streamed down her face. All she could do was point out all the things she hates. For years she struggled like this, Hating her every breath, Soon enough, She began to wish for death. But what she didn't know, Was that to a boy, She was the love of his life. One day he noticed, That her arms have been under a knife, He showed up to her door that day, Asked to take her for a walk, As they trailed the sidewalk, He said they needed to talk. She was confused, Then she saw the sorrow on his face. She asked him what was wrong, Thinking maybe she could relate. Then he quietly whispered, "I love everything that you hate." The tears that were once in her eyes, Slowly began to fade. She looked into his eyes, With a slight smile began to say, "Every part of me, even the ones I hate, have loved you, since the very first day". As the realization sets in, they decide to part ways. That night, the girl with teary eyes, Looked into the mirror, And threw away the blade, Not because he loved her, But because she wanted to stay. Seeing the sorrow on his face, Helped her replace all her tears, For she realized that someone, really truly cared. She knew she no longer needed to fear. Though she wasn't cured, She knew she wanted to heal. Finally her feelings, Began to feel real. Teary eyes are temporary, Wounds will always heal, Blades wont help you. They don't find a way to feel.

Continue reading...

For as long as I can remember My daddy doesn't cry. Ridiculous, I know, But I never saw a tear leave his eyes. When his son got sent away, My daddy didn't cry. When he lost his job Again and Again and Again My daddy didn't cry. When his brother died My daddy didn't cry. When we found out my siblings had autism My daddy didn't cry. When his sister in law died, My daddy didn't cry. When his mom died 26 hours later, My daddy didn't cry. But when my father realized that he was slowing losing me When I had failed to tell him how much I loved him He sat in the car Tears shining in his eyes And he begged me He begged me to give him a second chance. And as a single tear streamed down his face I couldn't help but tear up myself At the thought of all the miscommunication All the fights and all the misunderstandings For the first time in forever I actually felt loved by father, That first time I saw my daddy cry.

0

Nov 30, 2011

Nov 30, 2011 at 9:19 AM UTC

My Daddy Doesn't Cry

For as long as I can remember My daddy doesn't cry. Ridiculous, I know, But I never saw a tear leave his eyes. When his son got sent away, My daddy didn't cry. When he lost his job Again and Again and Again My daddy didn't cry. When his brother died My daddy didn't cry. When we found out my siblings had autism My daddy didn't cry. When his sister in law died, My daddy didn't cry. When his mom died 26 hours later, My daddy didn't cry. But when my father realized that he was slowing losing me When I had failed to tell him how much I loved him He sat in the car Tears shining in his eyes And he begged me He begged me to give him a second chance. And as a single tear streamed down his face I couldn't help but tear up myself At the thought of all the miscommunication All the fights and all the misunderstandings For the first time in forever I actually felt loved by father, That first time I saw my daddy cry.

Continue reading...

I remember the last day very well. How happy we were to be away from the rest of them. How fun it was sitting in your car, and screaming out lyrics to songs we would one day want marked on our bodies. How we happily giggled and allowed every ounce of insecurity to melt away into the air around us. How the sunlight streamed in through my windows and covered your golden skin in a thin film of white. How it felt to kiss your lips. How it felt to hold you close. How your body pressed to mine created one continuous aria of love. How my last words were "text me when you're safe and sound" How I didn't know I would be leaving my heart in your shirt pocket. "Will do" (i. r)

0

Mar 10, 2014

Mar 10, 2014 at 12:56 AM UTC

I remember the last day very well. How happy we were to be away from the rest of them. How fun it was sitting in your car, and screaming out lyrics to songs we would one day want marked on our bodies. How we happily giggled and allowed every ounce of insecurity to melt away into the air around us. How the sunlight streamed in through my windows and covered your golden skin in a thin film of white. How it felt to kiss your lips. How it felt to hold you close. How your body pressed to mine created one continuous aria of love. How my last words were "text me when you're safe and sound" How I didn't know I would be leaving my heart in your shirt pocket. "Will do" (i. r)

Continue reading...

We relaxed by the ocean Walked on the beach Laughed until our stomachs hurt And our eyes streamed We wrote poetry Enjoyed some day drinking And a little night drinking, too We looked ahead to our future And back at our long and lovely past For a brief time we left it all behind And you and I were all that mattered Let's do it again

0

Mar 12, 2019

Mar 12, 2019 at 11:05 AM UTC

We relaxed by the ocean Walked on the beach Laughed until our stomachs hurt And our eyes streamed We wrote poetry Enjoyed some day drinking And a little night drinking, too We looked ahead to our future And back at our long and lovely past For a brief time we left it all behind And you and I were all that mattered Let's do it again

Continue reading...

Normally this place is colder than a penguin's **** But Holy Satan, it's steaming right now And I'm sure it's not my cappuccino Or the fact that i'm wearing a hoodie, Must be (it is) the movement of your buttocks Over there on the little wooden stage That nobody uses except for sitting and playing with those lame monster cards. You and your friend, yeah, that one. The girl that was on the table behind mine, sneaking a peek at my iPad as it streamed The Twilight Zone, the episode with the piano That reveals what people hide in their souls **** lucky that isn't here or They'd call the cops on me for Like ****** assault or something), Began twerking randomly when you called her And are still going at it, as if you're telling her lessons, And i'm sitting here pretending to be paying attention To Rod Serling's monologue intro When really i'm looking at that popping shake. Holy Satan! "Control yourself" I think "Oh what's that? I don't remember Having a highlighter marker in my pants. Oh **** that's not it, ******* it." And now you're showing your friend How to seductively move that stomach, This is bad (no, it's perfect), You pulling your shirt up a bit Above the belly button and doing that. And how come i'm the only one here Noticing this (besides your friends at the table). I know the place is mostly empty but It's a small space, it's easy to see this, Yet these idiots are drooling over their New Pokemon game; what the ******* hell? When you've got the greatest show on campus Going on right ******* there! I don't get it. Am I like a perv or something? (Yes). To the girl with the goddess body Twerking all nerdishly and awesome In the coffee shop: Don't stop, ******* it. Holy Satan, Don't ever stop!

0

May 1, 2014

May 1, 2014 at 6:47 PM UTC

To the girl twerking in the coffee shop

Normally this place is colder than a penguin's **** But Holy Satan, it's steaming right now And I'm sure it's not my cappuccino Or the fact that i'm wearing a hoodie, Must be (it is) the movement of your buttocks Over there on the little wooden stage That nobody uses except for sitting and playing with those lame monster cards. You and your friend, yeah, that one. The girl that was on the table behind mine, sneaking a peek at my iPad as it streamed The Twilight Zone, the episode with the piano That reveals what people hide in their souls **** lucky that isn't here or They'd call the cops on me for Like ****** assault or something), Began twerking randomly when you called her And are still going at it, as if you're telling her lessons, And i'm sitting here pretending to be paying attention To Rod Serling's monologue intro When really i'm looking at that popping shake. Holy Satan! "Control yourself" I think "Oh what's that? I don't remember Having a highlighter marker in my pants. Oh **** that's not it, ******* it." And now you're showing your friend How to seductively move that stomach, This is bad (no, it's perfect), You pulling your shirt up a bit Above the belly button and doing that. And how come i'm the only one here Noticing this (besides your friends at the table). I know the place is mostly empty but It's a small space, it's easy to see this, Yet these idiots are drooling over their New Pokemon game; what the ******* hell? When you've got the greatest show on campus Going on right ******* there! I don't get it. Am I like a perv or something? (Yes). To the girl with the goddess body Twerking all nerdishly and awesome In the coffee shop: Don't stop, ******* it. Holy Satan, Don't ever stop!

Continue reading...

'Tis not with gilded sabres That gleam in baldricks blue, Nor nodding plumes in caps of Fez, Of gay and gaudy hue-- But, habited in mourning weeds, Come marching from afar, By four and four, the valiant men Who fought with Aliatar. All mournfully and slowly The afflicted warriors come, To the deep wail of the trumpet, And beat of muffled drum. The banner of the Phenix, The flag that loved the sky, That scarce the wind dared wanton with, It flew so proud and high-- Now leaves its place in battle-field, And sweeps the ground in grief, The bearer drags its glorious folds Behind the fallen chief, As mournfully and slowly The afflicted warriors come, To the deep wail of the trumpet, And beat of muffled drum. Brave Aliatar led forward A hundred Moors to go To where his brother held Motril Against the leaguering foe. On horseback went the gallant Moor, That gallant band to lead; And now his bier is at the gate, From whence he pricked his steed. While mournfully and slowly The afflicted warriors come, To the deep wail of the trumpet, And beat of muffled drum. The knights of the Grand Master In crowded ambush lay; They rushed upon him where the reeds Were thick beside the way; They smote the valiant Aliatar, They smote the warrior dead, And broken, but not beaten, were The gallant ranks he led. Now mournfully and slowly The afflicted warriors come, To the deep wail of the trumpet, And beat of muffled drum. Oh! what was Zayda's sorrow, How passionate her cries! Her lover's wounds streamed not more free Than that poor maiden's eyes. Say, Love--for didst thou see her tears: Oh, no! he drew more tight The blinding fillet o'er his lids To spare his eyes the sight. While mournfully and slowly The afflicted warriors come, To the deep wail of the trumpet, And beat of muffled drum. Nor Zayda weeps him only, But all that dwell between The great Alhambra's palace walls And springs of Albaicin. The ladies weep the flower of knights, The brave the bravest here; The people weep a champion, The Alcaydes a noble peer. While mournfully and slowly The afflicted warriors come, To the deep wail of the trumpet, And beat of muffled drum.

0

2.9k

William Cullen Bryant

The Death Of Aliatar (From The Spanish)

'Tis not with gilded sabres That gleam in baldricks blue, Nor nodding plumes in caps of Fez, Of gay and gaudy hue-- But, habited in mourning weeds, Come marching from afar, By four and four, the valiant men Who fought with Aliatar. All mournfully and slowly The afflicted warriors come, To the deep wail of the trumpet, And beat of muffled drum. The banner of the Phenix, The flag that loved the sky, That scarce the wind dared wanton with, It flew so proud and high-- Now leaves its place in battle-field, And sweeps the ground in grief, The bearer drags its glorious folds Behind the fallen chief, As mournfully and slowly The afflicted warriors come, To the deep wail of the trumpet, And beat of muffled drum. Brave Aliatar led forward A hundred Moors to go To where his brother held Motril Against the leaguering foe. On horseback went the gallant Moor, That gallant band to lead; And now his bier is at the gate, From whence he pricked his steed. While mournfully and slowly The afflicted warriors come, To the deep wail of the trumpet, And beat of muffled drum. The knights of the Grand Master In crowded ambush lay; They rushed upon him where the reeds Were thick beside the way; They smote the valiant Aliatar, They smote the warrior dead, And broken, but not beaten, were The gallant ranks he led. Now mournfully and slowly The afflicted warriors come, To the deep wail of the trumpet, And beat of muffled drum. Oh! what was Zayda's sorrow, How passionate her cries! Her lover's wounds streamed not more free Than that poor maiden's eyes. Say, Love--for didst thou see her tears: Oh, no! he drew more tight The blinding fillet o'er his lids To spare his eyes the sight. While mournfully and slowly The afflicted warriors come, To the deep wail of the trumpet, And beat of muffled drum. Nor Zayda weeps him only, But all that dwell between The great Alhambra's palace walls And springs of Albaicin. The ladies weep the flower of knights, The brave the bravest here; The people weep a champion, The Alcaydes a noble peer. While mournfully and slowly The afflicted warriors come, To the deep wail of the trumpet, And beat of muffled drum.

Continue reading...

The Quantum Poetry Theorem from a long time ago, a thousand poems a priori. **Dedicated to you, Albert Einstein and the cast of TBBT, special thanks to the OWS movement., But especially to the few, the brave, geeks who write poetry in word and in equations.** Scruffy, yet ennobled, my own 99% invade and occupy all my senses, in my eyesight encamped sensing opportunity, the 99 demand that each shutter eye snap, all nominal exhalations, every quantum minutia perception, be live streamed, direct tv to you Everything I witness, transformed into an acoustic guitar rocking vision, a levitation of poetic expression, set to a primitive three-chord rock & roll overture, and my iPad, appointed Recording Secretary, compiles exhalations as ecrivations a preservation society of the verb, strings of words emanating non-stop within my head, from a guitar playing twenty four seven, ironically, expressed mathematically Street strolling, busy brasserie bar, a Pinot Noir arrives, a large pour of stanzas and a napkin upon to scribble mind in ferment but A Capella smooth cool, my bossy brain requires incident reports, a "write me down, please," and no matter how much I drink, ain't anti-matter enough to stop my eyes from seeing every human interaction as a poetic, probabilistic, verbal equation, quantum expressions of sensory upload The brain revels and reels from overload, no mas, no more, poetry fatigue incurable, caplets and ointments, string theory, can't cure or explain the compulsion I feel, and the 1% of me protests my overtaxed mental capacity, and hear the, see the, masses, the shouts, the placards, outside my home, shut it down, no one cares, no one wants your transplanted mechanics in their eardrums Huzzah, found in my gut, a Grand Unifying Theory to coordinate, gauge and harmonize my internal asymmetries, yes, a coupling factor required, but still, one equation that explains everything! my fatigued, pointy, index finger refuses to tap any more, my Theory of Everything, and my poetry, forgot, overlooked. in my library buried, black holed, forever silence-stored

0

Sep 8, 2013

Sep 8, 2013 at 3:48 PM UTC

The Quantum Poetry Theorem

The Quantum Poetry Theorem from a long time ago, a thousand poems a priori. **Dedicated to you, Albert Einstein and the cast of TBBT, special thanks to the OWS movement., But especially to the few, the brave, geeks who write poetry in word and in equations.** Scruffy, yet ennobled, my own 99% invade and occupy all my senses, in my eyesight encamped sensing opportunity, the 99 demand that each shutter eye snap, all nominal exhalations, every quantum minutia perception, be live streamed, direct tv to you Everything I witness, transformed into an acoustic guitar rocking vision, a levitation of poetic expression, set to a primitive three-chord rock & roll overture, and my iPad, appointed Recording Secretary, compiles exhalations as ecrivations a preservation society of the verb, strings of words emanating non-stop within my head, from a guitar playing twenty four seven, ironically, expressed mathematically Street strolling, busy brasserie bar, a Pinot Noir arrives, a large pour of stanzas and a napkin upon to scribble mind in ferment but A Capella smooth cool, my bossy brain requires incident reports, a "write me down, please," and no matter how much I drink, ain't anti-matter enough to stop my eyes from seeing every human interaction as a poetic, probabilistic, verbal equation, quantum expressions of sensory upload The brain revels and reels from overload, no mas, no more, poetry fatigue incurable, caplets and ointments, string theory, can't cure or explain the compulsion I feel, and the 1% of me protests my overtaxed mental capacity, and hear the, see the, masses, the shouts, the placards, outside my home, shut it down, no one cares, no one wants your transplanted mechanics in their eardrums Huzzah, found in my gut, a Grand Unifying Theory to coordinate, gauge and harmonize my internal asymmetries, yes, a coupling factor required, but still, one equation that explains everything! my fatigued, pointy, index finger refuses to tap any more, my Theory of Everything, and my poetry, forgot, overlooked. in my library buried, black holed, forever silence-stored

Continue reading...

She sat there in silence as tears streamed down her flustered cheeks. The sound of her sniffing trying to hold them back, echoed throughout the room. She was frozen. She couldn't move, she could barely even breathe. The light wasn't allowed in this room, like love wasn't allowed in her heart. It was all dim and dark. Much like the tired eyes she had been wearing, As a result of this nightly routine. The air was thick and felt as though she was trying to breathe with her face pressed into a pillow. Everything in her screaming for help but she sat there quietly, alone, engulfed in darkness. Slow self-suffocation at its finest.

0

Jun 10, 2014

Jun 10, 2014 at 1:27 PM UTC

She sat there in silence as tears streamed down her flustered cheeks. The sound of her sniffing trying to hold them back, echoed throughout the room. She was frozen. She couldn't move, she could barely even breathe. The light wasn't allowed in this room, like love wasn't allowed in her heart. It was all dim and dark. Much like the tired eyes she had been wearing, As a result of this nightly routine. The air was thick and felt as though she was trying to breathe with her face pressed into a pillow. Everything in her screaming for help but she sat there quietly, alone, engulfed in darkness. Slow self-suffocation at its finest.

Continue reading...

This morning gray skies prevailed, an icy wind bit my face, cold tears streamed down as I pedaled along the deserted streets. The few drivers who did pass had no faces. Perhaps they were chilled, crying, felt a bit empty too.

0

Dec 16, 2013

Dec 16, 2013 at 10:29 AM UTC

The Lone Cyclist (Goes to Work)

This morning gray skies prevailed, an icy wind bit my face, cold tears streamed down as I pedaled along the deserted streets. The few drivers who did pass had no faces. Perhaps they were chilled, crying, felt a bit empty too.

Continue reading...