"substance" poems
The bees build in the crevices
Of loosening masonry, and there
The mother birds bring grubs and flies.
My wall is loosening; honey-bees,
Come build in the empty house of the stare.
We are closed in, and the key is turned
On our uncertainty; somewhere
A man is killed, or a house burned.
Yet no clear fact to be discerned:
Come build in the empty house of the stare.
A barricade of stone or of wood;
Some fourteen days of civil war:
Last night they trundled down the road
That dead young soldier in his blood:
Come build in the empty house of the stare.
We had fed the heart on fantasies,
The heart's grown brutal from the fare,
More substance in our enmities
Than in our love; O honey-bees,
Come build in the empty house of the stare.
30.9k
What's wrong with you, with us,
what's happening to us?
Ah our love is a harsh cord
that binds us wounding us
and if we want
to leave our wound,
to separate,
it makes a new knot for us and condemns us
to drain our blood and burn together.
What's wrong with you? I look at you
and I find nothing in you but two eyes
like all eyes, a mouth
lost among a thousand mouths that I have kissed, more beautiful,
a body just like those that have slipped
beneath my body without leaving any memory.
And how empty you went through the world
like a wheat-colored jar
without air, without sound, without substance!
I vainly sought in you
depth for my arms
that dig, without cease, beneath the earth:
beneath your skin, beneath your eyes,
nothing,
beneath your double breast scarcely
raised
a current of crystalline order
that does not know why it flows singing.
Why, why, why,
my love, why?
29.7k
Over a period of time difference of opinion leads to debate following which mutual understanding might take place.
Somewhere down the line,
something might click,
then signs of mutual understanding will be there in offing.
Mutual understanding will bring the much needed change,
a change that's desired,
since it also fulfills the need of hour.
If mutual understanding takes place, then nothing like that since it moves in the direction of drawing a line of conclusion, which is the only reason because of which the debate commenced.
If mutual understanding is still a viable option,
yet far away,
then it’s time to keep negotiation apart and away from been a part of the debate.
Finally difference of opinion can lead to something positive and healthy, if the debate that is ensued following a difference of opinion is in the right direction,
in right spirit,
focus remaining on point of concern,
substance with regards to what’s going on in mind is not disturbed in anyway,
most importantly the debate is held on proper grounds.
Difference of opinion is also a sign for something constructive, if the mind is determined to make sure that the odds which are going to come along the way will not only be handled and tackled, but also taken out and taken away from the way of getting things done.
Finally it’s difference of opinion that makes team work interesting, if it is taken in the right spirit at the given moment in time.
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 6:49 AM UTC
My flaws are not pretty.
My imperfections are not endearing,
my vices are not quirky,
and my regrets are not intriguing and elusive.
They’re ugly and unsettling;
better off buried in the catacomb that is my memory.
better off dormant, hibernating through all four seasons.
They destroy and ravage anything
that they can get their hands on.
They spread like wildfire through any self-respect
that might be living inside me.
Burning up every last trace of my dignity
until all that’s left
is a shower of ash and things I wish I could forget.
They don’t add character or substance
and leave me blinded by contempt.
They whisper to me that I don’t deserve to be happy.
And I listen to them.
They’re angry and want revenge.
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 6:12 PM UTC
Its just ***
So why you catching feelings
When your body was the only part of the deal and
We agreed that your mouth don't come with it
Do you want us to quit?
He would say
As he ****** her soul from between her lips
And tighten up his grip on her hips
You had a choice before
You dont wanna be "just friends" anymore
I never wanted a rrelationship
You got yourself into this situationship
So stop that whining ****
He whispered looking into the mirror that was once her eyes
Before he made her blind
Before he couldn't see through her
I llove what you give to me
I love when you pleasing me
But I don't want you loving me
The *** is just enough for me
It was fun when it was hard to get
Now you're just hard to respect
Now your eyes are clouded with regret
He moaned thrusting into her mentality
Stroking her disabilities
To love herself
To love anyone else
Cause he's all she can see
He's the only thing that's real
He's all she learned to feel
And he's just expecting her to deal
Chill out with the feelings
You're getting unappealing
Your soul is so revealing
The poet in you lost all her meaning
You're demeaning
Youre no longer a woman
You're a substance
You're just a thing
He reveals stripping her of self security
Ripping off the bandage that she placed over her heart so carefully
But you're light
You shine so bright
You're all I think about at night
You make everything so right
But you're making me weak
Love is sweet
But not for someone who makes a living in the streets
I'd rather love you in the sheets
And rip your heart out before you leave
The biggest punishment that life could ever give
Give to you I mean
The biggest punishment would be falling in love with unloveable me
He thought carefully
Quietly
Watching the tears fall from her face
Watching her steps as she leave his place
As his home and heart and soul becomes empty again
He only knows how to cause pain
Only knows how to inflict gentle suffering
Cause everyone he's ever loved left him in the rain
But she let him in
And he's letting her go again.
After all its just ***
So why did she catch feelings
When her body was the only part of the deal and
He gave her the choice before
To be "just friends" and nothing more
Although he wants so Much more .
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 7:51 PM UTC
Let me be the substance of your addiction....
Swallow me whole or drink me up
Or in hale me and let me fill you up.
Let me be the substance of your addiction
Snort me up...
.inject me ....
.poor me till you get your fill
roll me up...
light me up ....
or pop me like a pill .....
I want to be that feeling the one you love so much,
but let it be my laugh....my kiss.... my love and the way we touch.
I want to be your addiction the way that you are mine .
I want to consume everything your body mind and time.
I want you to get drunk off my lips
And make you forget what to say .
I want to be your drug,
I want to be your special K
I want to fog your brain with passion as you drawl me in and get high and not take much.
I want to make you feel invincible on top of the world with just one touch.
I want to be your addiction I want to run through your veins .
I want to be your addiction I want to cure your pain .
I want to be your addiction your euphoria of love.
I want to be your addiction I want to be your drug.
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC
And it was at that age...Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.
I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating planations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.
And I, infinitesmal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
I felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke free on the open sky.
12.4k
599
There is a pain—so utter—
It swallows substance up—
Then covers the Abyss with Trance—
So Memory can step
Around—across—upon it—
As one within a Swoon—
Goes safely—where an open eye—
Would drop Him—Bone by Bone.
10.6k
A tired old man groans
As he hand you some
Asian culture cuisine.
Riddled with spices
It tickles the little thing in the back of your throat
As you swallow the substance.
Face now flushed
Like a cluster of fire ants crawling on the hill
Calling it their home.
Home?
Where was it?
Your memory slips.
Glee storms the man’s face
As he studies your expression.
“Seems like you can’t handle such a simple thing."
Clouding your judgement, you bite your tongue
In desperate attempt to knock back the sense
That gone up and left.
However
It fails.
Numb as the lightbulbs turn into bottle-cap suns
Concealing sight
With the light that it shares.
Count as your heart stops
With eyes bloodshot
His crafted words echo
In your failing ears.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 2:33 PM UTC
Radness
The Philosopher’s Stone is not just a spiritual metaphor but an actual substance that can transmute lead or mercury into gold. The Stone is a product of Alchemy. Unlike chemistry, which only deals with physical matter and energy, Alchemy makes use of etheric and astral energies to reconfigure matter at the quantum level. Alchemy is to chemistry what a cube is to the square; it is a superset of chemistry and is capable of so much more.
How Etheric Energy Overrides Physical Laws
Alchemical achievements require successfully gathering, concentrating, and multiplying etheric energy. When this energy reaches a critical threshold, it overpowers the normal laws of physics and allows seemingly miraculous processes to take place. I believe it does this by biasing probability. By amplifying the probability of minor quantum effects, which are normally limited to the subatomic scale, they manifest on the larger atomic scale. In this way, one element spontaneously transforms into another.
The world around us is made of subatomic particles that regularly undergo unpredictable jumps, teleportation, bilocation, superposition, and other strange quantum behaviors. Why don’t everyday solid objects do likewise? Because the random quantum jittering of their subatomic particles collectively average out to zero. Think of a large crowd of people; seen from the air, the crowd as a whole is stationary, even though individuals within the crowd move in seemingly random directions. It’s because their movements are random and uncoordinated that they average to zero net movement on the whole.
The world we see around us is merely a crowd of subatomic particles whose individual quantum jumps aren’t apparent because they average to collective stillness. Physical laws that govern our everyday world, known as the deterministic laws of classical physics, are merely the laws of the crowd. These laws are what’s left of quantum physics after the unpredictability is removed through statistical averaging. They are not absolute laws; they are just the most probable manner in which matter and energy behave.
Physical laws can be bent. While the probability is incredibly low that enough coordination and coherence develops among the quantum jitters to manifest on a collective scale, that is exactly what etheric energy does. It alters probability and thereby skews the laws of thermodynamics, gravity, electromagnetism, and chemistry.
Alchemy does not violate the laws of physics, nor does it always follow them, rather it bends them as needed. It operates upon the quantum foundation from which these laws arise in the first place, via etheric energy affecting the probability of quantum events.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
Earthquake Poem
3/5/2014
What do you suppose an earthquake does?
Sure, there are the shakes and scares,
Seismic shifts accompanied by tectonic tears.
But ditch this global perspective,
Figure out what rips those ripples, detective.
Let’s see you pound at the ground.
Hit it hard, ‘til you hear a heavy sound.
Is that enough to fissure some asphalt?
Tell me, could you bring this spinning planet to a sudden halt?
I can’t say for sure, what an Earth-quake does.
Though I’ve been a victim,
Earth isn’t where my quake was.
An Earth-less earthquake,
On a planet whose name I’ve learned to forsake.
Wynn’s world wandered ‘round someone else’s orbit:
Drawn to its gravity like grapes grow on a vine;
Brightened by its solar system’s shining smile, so divine;
Emotional tides tugged in and out;
Guided by its mysterious moon’s midnight meandering about.
That’s right – an orbit with its own time flow.
Time that could stomp its heels and steal a spotlight,
Time that could manipulate a moment like jello, mayonnaise, or some other squishy substance,
Time that could crash course, while standing still,
Time that could reveal something you never knew.
What do you suppose an earthquake does?
A quake could be anything that makes you shake.
Think of quaking in fear, as an unknown figure draws near.
Think of a jittery heart, that’s been bit by a bullet.
Internal tears,
think of organs bleeding,
Think of needing,
solid ground,
but falling and time keeps stalling.
When a quiet little quiver promises to deliver,
its slight shock signal straight through the middle.
When a molten magma core fizzes its manic madness,
like a shaken soda.
When an epic eruption carries out its upward excelsior,
Rejecting the spinning without a stop.
Oh, the mountains will tumble,
The hills and valleys, they’ll crumble,
And gurgle in the raging rivers’ rumble,
As volcanoes churn out violent bubbles,
Stirring up all kinds of troubles,
For one person’s personal planet.
For one person’s personal planet,
These violent forces of nature can’t compare to an Earth-quake,
When the ground you stand on begins to break,
When you realize your senseless stability is fake.
When that little quake knocks your Earth awake,
It’s reality coming alive to take, and take, and take,
Because for love, you put everything at stake.
What do you suppose an earthquake does?
I’ll tell you – it leaves a wrecked world with a cracked core and scorched surroundings.
Just because.
Just because, love on Earth always comes with a quiet little quake.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
There are people that have this ability to make people melt in their hands
They walk around their entire lives finding their prey and engaging them and make them melt
The victim is usually rewarded with a night of rampant *** and is then dumped into this puddle when the antagonist
of this story is done with them
Sometimes it takes days for the victim to turn back into a solid substance
Sometimes it takes weeks
Sometimes they never fully turn bqck to normal and their will be a part of them that will always remain liquid because of the antagonist
Many fall victim to this antagonist
Until the protagonist comes along and upsets the routine
The protagonist cannot be melted
And it is due to this very specific favt that the antagonist ia revealed as the true protagonist of our story
That's usually a goodish enough story line that melts the audience
But people like myself who do not melt sees the true sadness in the lack of melting
We do not melt because we have been melted ao much that we went for an operation and we came out transformed
We are now metal
And I'm sorry to disappoint that antagonist/antagonist who becomes a protagonist
But the best you would ever be able to do to me is to warm my heart
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 10:04 AM UTC
cheap liquor to ya head ya drain the substance from the bottle
With them Vicky secrets on ya body’s lookin like model
With your mind going numb its gettin so easy to swallow
all them medals on the wall were gold plated and hollow
Daddy lil princess raised inside an ivory tower
Prince charming showed up and he amazed you with his power
You gave him all your treasures he was gone within the hour
Now the sweet lies that he told got your mouth tasting sour
You singing Mirrior mirror on the wall
Who's the most tainted of them all
Your lipsticks smeared and mascara's faded
Any price to feel love baby girl you know you paid it
I met you one night and I tried to ease ya pain
But you won't touch my black skin in fear it leaves a stain
On that pretty Prada dress thats hanging off ya frame
Crown of amethyst polluting your brain
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 8:15 PM UTC
She looks like heaven
And tastes like hell
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 10:23 AM UTC
Don't tell me you love me
I've heard it before
The words have no meaning
I need to have more
Don't tell me you need me
That might not be true
For words without substance
Mean less than they do
Actions speak louder than words
I know what you're saying
But, I haven't heard
You have to show more
In a physical way
You've got to show actions
If you want me to stay
If I hear "I'm sorry" again
I will show you the door dear
"I'm sorry" is empty, vacant, a veldt
It's not what I need, It's what you think I should hear
Show me some actions
Back up what you say
After all, words mean nothing
They're just the script for this play
Show me you love me
Don't just say "I do"
I want you to mean it
Show me something new
The words have no feeling
The emotion is gone
It's like you're reading the lyrics
To a music-less song
Actions speak louder than words
I can hear what you're saying
But, with no meaning it hurts
I need reinforcement, it's simple you see
Because Actions speak louder than words
So show me you love me
Don't tell me again
Your words have a hollow, dead sound
So show me with actions, that I am the one
If you want to keep me around
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
knitting with scissors you run with.
will get you there. but you can't buy a house. i'm sorry.
you might, miiiiight get the Edwardian Tudor for a mansion in false claim
but you keep your gaze, your weary gaze ....and slumber not so sweet, my sweet.
knitting with false gods will get you everything
but Not the Other Thing
that gnaws at the substance of your gut
where the heart resides like a lion
addicted to Aesop Fables -
and dry humors that decimate with bounty
flooding the bleak with our windmills !
you and i are regardless.
knitting with shopping carts and dead batteries. washing ashore.
lick your lips at the foam
of our hysterical event. pitch a ******* tent.
and eat more stars than you came in with.
sew the hole
with a hole and
answer the phone sometimes,
****
i ain't got all day but you might take your time
like an aspirin.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 5:00 AM UTC
I usually begin these rants with a question.
But i find myself lacking in just this instance.
For whom can say.
Anything more
When ash refuses to respond.
No message can be relayed.
Just more things that i silently promise.
As i figuratively toast to a memory that will never do you justice.
Is it disrespectful to take words so literal.
To the point.
That looking down gun barrels and beer bottles.
Turned into a ****** routine that pride would boast.
Only there was no smile in my smile.
Inhaling disappointment.
As the years of missed visits and substance abuse.
Led me here.
At your deathbed.
wishing my words could reach beyond.
Without worry of a certain spectres blade in my shadow.
Then somehow.
I made my word.
The only thing worth asking about.
Because allowing the past to weave around the last routine we shared.
Would force everything that i have come to embody.
To null
Et fin.
But no.
Your gift was ever changing.
Trading a jack for skills.
While masking scars that only those with them would know of.
And in the darkest moments did i find a crystal.
Clear.
Resolve.
To struggle onward.
Tears wont spell the revisions we seek.
and i was taught to always look my best, no matter the destination.
Everything that i am.
Came from you.
It didn't come from a book nor a Professor.
I can only hope to pass on your wisdom.
Although cryptic at times.
Will remain in my heart.
So even though I will forever be thinking of a new metaphor.
A penny will sit in my pocket.
Until the day that I can place it in your palm.
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 5:25 AM UTC
"Hey, how are you you doing?"
"I'm doing okay..."
I'm okay because I cannot describe all the different ways I'm feeling apathetic.
And I give you that smile that hides all the hairline fractures in my heart.
Every wonderful longing is swallowed alive,
I'm transcending my emotional capacity to live and love.
All my cheer is shallow and without substance,
Naught more than a cooked marshmallow:
Sweet and crisp without any nourishment.
My wretched self allows me to suffer thus.
Isolated when never alone,
Alone when in true love,
Irreversibly broken,
Choking on my frozen dust.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 11:46 PM UTC
I'm Feining For A Dose of
Methamphetamine.
I Know I Have successful Sobriety Days.
But My Thoughts Are Overwhelming Me Heavily.
And What Best Knowing iCan Take A Hit And Forget Everything. I'm Feeling So Low,
Drowning My Self in Guilt And Sorrow. Yes I Know Its Effects Arnt Forever lasting .
But My Heads pounding iJust Want To Feel The **** Flow Blast in.
How Long? How Strong?
Will I Give in or Will Reality Kick quick Which Do You Predict?
Scan Through My History,
Sadning Because My Minds Weak And Would Rather Tweak
Than Go Through it how I'm Supposed to.
Wouldn't Be The First time,
More Like it's the only option
I tend to want to see.
Because of what it brings,
An Easy Solution That will have me Loving its fascinating Pollution.
Deep in me I really don't want to abuse this,
But When I Feel So hopeless
My Mind blinds me on purpose
to reach the Dope Switch
And instantly want to turn to the substance
and use to get high to cope with.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 3:29 AM UTC
Lust is just a moment for you
Don’t think I don’t know that it is true
So take your heat and leave behind
Just dust, for its not worth of mind
No anger I feel, tis only I see
The only truth you’re able to be
Not one of substance, tis not your way
Thank God, I’ve mind, to lead not astray
Don’t worry, someone will hold your hand
Believe your lies, no mind she stand
By you, with eyes that can never see
How you, no truth, you can never be
For now, I’ll take my leave of thee
And thank God, He’s allowed me to be free
So take your mind, and share with some
Who has no sense, completely dumb
To know you have no heart to give
You’ll find no peace, as long you live
So do you wonder of whom I speak?
For those who question, are those are weak
And whom who reads that smile take forth
Then you alone, are a friend of worth
For you know that it is not you I seek
The ones I curse, with loathe doth reek
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 11:51 AM UTC
My life is like a river
winding down unto the sea
and if you sail my waters
then you can get a look at me
I may not be the greatest
of the rivers which have been
but you'll never find a body
that is more proud or genuine
Starting at my source
My family and home
filling me with substance
as I flow off on my own
my water, crystal-clear
alive with plant and fish
and to always be that way
is the one thing that I wish
Friends contribute water
and it helps me as I grow
Flowing ever deeper
running faster as I go
Some would irrigate me
but i'll never be contained
others hope to **** me
but I cannot be restrained
Raging with my water
sometimes my borders overflow
as I give back the sediment
thad borrowed long ago
my water moving mountains
slicing channels through the land
I may not be the greatest
but my canyons have been grand
When I wished to merge
another river I did find
and at once our separate waters
had forever been combined
Our banks were overflowing
from the substance that we shared
and so we pass it on
into the rivers we did bear
Meandering through life
My river not as deep
My water not as clear
and my angle not as steep
But my inside still is living
and that's how I will always be
Until my waters do depart me
when I flow into the sea.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 1:18 AM UTC
She had hung it up from the mantelpiece in her bedroom, so when he entered the room there it was. It was suddenly lovely and he immediately imagined her body flowing into it, flowing from it. Standing close to the dress he brought his fingers to the fabric, touched gently, stroking then, as though it already held her form and substance.
Stepping past thoughts of her that so stirred his body he entered the pattern of the dress. It was a meadow in southern Ontario. July, when already the sun had bleached the profusion of grasses: water chestnut and papyrus sedge. He had stepped from the untidy veranda, past the pond, and down the rough track between the fields unmown, uncut, left fallow. As he entered the breaks of woodland between these swathes of grassland, deciduous leaves, dry and brittle from the summer's heat, were strewn on the path, and between the trees clumps of bramble bushes with berries of red and blue, black and purple.
There was no wind. The only sounds an underlay of crickets, his footfall, and the sharp mournful cries of geese on the now distant pond.
He saw her like an apparition standing motionless at the woodland’s boundary; her dress at one with all that surrounded her. When he came close and placed his hand on her shoulder he could smell the sweet dry earth mingling with her body's sweat, a hint of her *** as he placed his cheek against the shower of printed pollen amongst the leaves on her back.
Back in the late afternoon bedroom he heard her move about in the kitchen, and the spell broken, he turned away and went downstairs.
Several days later, as they prepared for bed, she slipped the dress on. As she stood in the lamplight smoothing it against her flanks, adjusting its fall across her ******* he felt himself faint that such a thing of beauty could be a joy forever . . . and beyond.
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 4:55 AM UTC
And here's how I see it:
We lay hand in hand
Until the dam far, far away
Cracks,
Until the blades of grass
Tickling your nose
Wither,
Until the clouds above
Rain inky substance like
Oceans,
And when the sun shines
Memories mellow on
Wavering waves waving
Willows in the wind,
Up to our nostrils,
Your eyes like the moon
Straining to see those last
Blades of grass curl in on themselves,
Here's how I see it:
We drown.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 9:45 PM UTC
There's a lot you will never know about me
And there's a lot I will never tell you
You will never know what I am like at 4am restless, tossing and turning
My body tired, but my mind running in circles until it finally comes to a halt and I crash
I can easily fall
Over
Apart
And in love
But I still can't fall asleep
You will never know about my past lovers and the hearts I've built into home
You will never know how I've molded every moment into memory
I etch the details into staying longer than they should
I remember too much too well
You will never know the roughness of hands that have touched me and how their glass fingers left me scarred
I am skilled at pretending I haven't been stolen enough times to feel detached
I can make-believe love to you like I don't know pain
Like I know exactly who I'm with
But I keep the lights on for a reason
You will never know about how I feel
You will ask me every time and I will say okay
You will ask me if I'm okay and I will say yes because I don't know how to say otherwise
I don't want you to know that I'm not sometimes
Being strong is the only choice I have
You will never know my weaknesses
You will never know me vulnerable
You will call me tough like a compliment
Like being a force built of bricks takes any bit of courage
You will watch me chug whisky like water
You will tell me that it's impressive without understanding the power in being able to choose my own bitterness
And how much better it tastes on my own terms
You will watch me love nicotine, not knowing that I am capable of loving you so much more than substance
You know my middle name
You know how I look with your hands in my hair
You know my teeth biting lip
You know what I smell like
You have seen me without clothing
But there is a lot you will never know about me
And there is a lot I will never tell you
Because you'll never ask.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 4:11 PM UTC