"surest" poems
"The surest way to corrupt a Youth
is to instruct him to hold in higher esteem
those who think alike, rather than those who think differently."
-Nietzche
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 3:15 AM UTC
Because one loves you, Helen Grey,
Is that a reason you should pout
And like a March wind veer about
And frown and say your shrewish say?
Don't strain the cord until it snaps,
Don't split the sound heart with your wedge,
Don't cut your fingers with the edge
Of your keen wit: you may perhaps.
Because you're handsome, Helen Grey,
Is that a reason to be proud?
Your eyes are bold, your laugh is loud,
Your steps go mincing on their way:
But so you miss that modest charm
Which is the surest charm of all;
Take heed; you yet may trip and fall,
And no man care to stretch his arm.
Stoop from your cold height, Helen Grey,
Come down and take a lowlier place;
Come down to fill it now with grace;
Come down you must perforce some day:
For years cannot be kept at bay,
And fading years will make you old;
Then in their turn will men seem cold,
When you yourself are nipped and grey.
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These are the kind of thoughts that I feel like I need to swallow
because they're on a level of pathetic that I can't even admit to myself.
It's that level of pathetic that really makes a person naked.
The deep dark corners of a person.
It's the trigger of the first tear.
And it all boils down to you.
Your simple acknowledgment of self scares me.
Your self-awareness kills me because
it brings you closer to realizing
that you can do better than me.
*And then what do I do
with this epic love I feel for you?*
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 5:04 AM UTC
There’s a woman like a dewdrop, she ’s so purer than the purest;
And her noble heart ’s the noblest, yes, and her sure faith’s the surest:
And her eyes are dark and humid, like the depth on depth of lustre
Hid i’ the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier than the wild-grape cluster,
Gush in golden-tinted plenty down her neck’s rose-misted marble:
Then her voice’s music … call it the well’s bubbling, the bird’s warble!
And this woman says, ‘My days were sunless and my nights were moonless,
Parch’d the pleasant April herbage, and the lark’s heart’s outbreak tuneless,
If you loved me not!’ And I who (ah, for words of flame!) adore her,
Who am mad to lay my spirit prostrate palpably before her—
I may enter at her portal soon, as now her lattice takes me,
And by noontide as by midnight make her mine, as hers she makes me!
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There's Midnight Ravens
along the telephone
wire.
Big black suckers
with deep dark
eyes that
see death
before it comes.
These hosts
of the end
pay me no mind
as I pass beneath
their roost.
They rudely go
about their
Raven buisness,
yelling and
******** their way
into the morning.
An unrelenting
bark drums
on from
behind
a white painted
fence.
An insane sound
like an alarm that
no one will turn
off.
I step over a small
cities worth of
ants who are
scrambling
around a crack
in the
sidewalk
clogged with
more frantic
ants.
The great flood
has arrived
in the form of
a timed sprinkler.
And all of
the soldiers
have abandoned
the Queen.
It's early morning
The air has
yet to be
choked out
by the
diesel fuel
and needless
emissions that will
soon began to
smother the
city
.
The faint smell
of fresh fish
makes its way
up the city
blocks from
the waterfront
below.
Old Italian and
Slavic women
stand outside
in their
long day time
night gowns
smoking cigarettes
while watering
the concrete.
I enter the
alley way ,
the smell of
***** diapers,
cheap
laundry detergent
and too
many children
surround an
apartment complex.
As I passed I came
upon the Black Princess
of these streets.
The wisest and
surest of them all
crosses my path.
Her tail held high
and strong,
striding care free,
she looks at me
with her
emerald eyes
and yawns.
She stops near a row
of trashcans that
are lined
up looking like
a modern
day monolith.
She laps at her
paw with slow,
long, lazy
licks as I
pass.
She again fixes me
with those marble green
eyes and lets me
know without
saying a word.
That the alley cat kills
for fun.
Ignores all Gods
by choice
and laughs
at our attempts
to tame it.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
the forestry rocking,
the love of esquire beats down,
I take to surest heights.
Of that I have confound.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
What we have is a young love
a Love cultivated in the purest of forms in the surest stages of childhood where everything we did was concrete fact that we are living because we did not have to think to live.
Born into a life of doubts and poverty so poor that free public education cost us and we didn't know the importance of learning why we were there and what was being taught was for own good and not to punish us for being bad kids.
For being in love with our childhood.
Our society was one of judgment.
We were judged as people as children as kids who were too poor to be cool. But not too poor to make a joke and laugh and make friends who were as poor as us.
You were as poor as me. And here we are now as young souls watering our young love our pure love.
You are the surest thing in my life the solid foundation to my infatuation is your spirit your art that is taking all my parts and putting them together like a puzzle a recipe of a sacred dish that is granted by your every wish.
With you I can't speak only seek a better way of showing you that your scent makes my head sway and all my thoughts are blurred by the slur in your voice by the way you say I love you.
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 1:11 AM UTC
I was afraid to walk down the street,
There was once,
Thither is a deep hole in the pavement.
I fall,
I come in.
I am a hopeless case.
My animation was a frantic running from silence.
Quietness is the surest sign
that I've died,
About tomorrow nothing is known.
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 8:18 AM UTC
( Sonnet)
How can my lips survive,
The wait of beamed kisses,
From your green, fey eyes,
Pinned, blind by the sun?
O like scarlet dipping into
Seas, your lips are setting
All the skies aflame in dusk
From them, my poor body
Suffering to explore yours,
Heavenly eyes, unearthly,
Bodies ****** lips to dream,
Merest, only dream. Pray
Tell me surest, sweetest lie,
How can my lips survive?
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 2:13 PM UTC
Before the decade spat us out,
on our bicycles we had options,
the electric blaze truly sped by
with the years
and Dad's knew their sons interests
lay in Rock, where musicians in de rigueur denims
sign posted the alpha roost
and we all had dreams of blondes,
their beacons crafting
secrets and desires about growing up.
This was the surest way
to catch an education for life
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 4:28 PM UTC
I hated high school
And the image of popularity
What a waste of dear time
Pretending to be perfect
It takes far too long
I would rather be flawed
Dangerous
Unpredictable
Rugged and ****
I never liked the 'perfect girl'
I liked the girl with the cigarette and leather jacket
And the shorter hair
Who looked at me and winked
And agreed to skip school for coffee and ***
Who cares if we just met?
I admire the free girls
But unfortunately, common parents
Will scream when they hear
Their daughter likes gauges
Or tongue piercings
Because magazines will make you believe
You have to be pink and tiny to be ****
Poor brainwashed mothers and fathers
They expect
Expressive reform
And a staunch to true personality
Sacrificing yourself for the pleasure of others
Is the surest way to confirm your existence
As nothing more than a name and face
Imprisoned under false authoritative rule
Why not escape from this place
Where beauty is structured
Fold
Into yourself
Where beauty is a matter of expression
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 4:52 PM UTC
There are teeth in my ears
Chewing and swallowing
Grinding when I’m sleeping
To digest everything I hear
There’s a tongue in my eyes
I lick at you from across the room
It all tastes like your smile
Your hand, your hair, your thighs
Your scars keep bad omens away
…and I am one of them
You were a child when I saw you last
When you thought you were alone with him
If the water under the bridge is passed
Then why can’t you seem to find ways to sink or swim
He’s just a *********** just waiting to happen
You’re a coupon kitten stranded out on a limb
It’s the surest sign that you need to be alone at last
But I just can’t sit by and let allegory do you in
You were a child when I saw you last
And you will be a child when I see you again
Your scars keep bad omens away
…and I am one of them
There are nails in your boredom
Rusting and creaking
Holding fast while you’re awake
Pay your dues as long as you can afford them
There are coffins in your mind
You keep your dead thoughts lying there
They are all pale like your smile
Your hands, your hair, and your thighs
Your scars keep bad omens away
…and I am one of them
You were a child when I saw you last
When you thought you were alone with him
If the water under the bridge is passed
Then why can’t you seem to find ways to sink or swim
He’s just a *********** just waiting to happen
You’re a coupon kitten stranded out on a limb
It’s the surest sign that you need to be alone at last
But I just can’t sit by and let allegory do you in
You were a child when I saw you last
And you will be a child when I see you again
Your scars keep bad omens away
…and I am one of them
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 1:28 PM UTC
Mine caru
Tis her name
Mine caru
A burning brightly flame
Mine caru
Sexiest appeal
Caru means amour in welsh language
Mine amour' so true
She's mine caru
Bastion to mine moral fiber
Yen of tenderness
Ardor to mine acquire
Inclination of ourn embryo
Eggs birthed as twins
Lost into ourn own conscious
Soulmates
Best friends
Though many knoweth not of that
Me and mi amour' surest do
Maby we canst teach thou
A love story far and true
Maby we canst reach thou
For the ones
With no king nor queen!!!
But
Tis ourn own story
This is the amare we bring!!
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 10:54 AM UTC
Miss you winter, your fall against my earth
The skin I wear, against her body
Your white blanket, a shield of purity
From winter’s breadth, that fresh surest
Missed the winter, where I was young
Felt your sorrow, it stilled my tongue
Now that you're gone, I feel so cold
My body frozen, the ice so clear
To sleep the idle body, where nature sleeps
to drift the absence, to drift obscene
Still remain, shapes in darkness, Shapes of memory
to sleep in idle, the idle body
From soft whispers, comes a gentle breeze
your winds of wisdom, I can't redeem
Those frozen hands, that strip me clean
her ageless journey, is the best of me
I sit alone, in winters mirror
on the edge, in silent tears
like shattered glass, those fragments dear
That winter year, she held me here
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 12:01 AM UTC
Bravery is not a small feat.
To stand tall and announce to the world your hidden
it takes formidable inner strength.
The very idea of taking it to the open
haunts and frightens you.
To what end?
If we succumb to the temptations of silence
Jump toward the Siren song
we are finished.
Why are we here if not for chance?
for chances are, chances are everything.
Why do we persist if not for triumph?
risks are the surest paths to reward.
If then, chance and change are gates to paradise, why
Do we shy away?
fear.
Unjustified, unnecessary, indescribable
fear.
Demolish it, and in the ashes of what was once a god-forsaken
wasteland
You will discover
hope.
Oct 7, 2010
Oct 7, 2010 at 5:54 PM UTC
"Hold my hand
Her quiet eyes widened,
and a little question mark
peek-a-boos
at
the edges of her lashes.
?"
His fingertips laced into hers.
Nail against nail.
Wrist to wrist.
There, I can almost feel your heart beat.
It is the surest thing
next to
gravity
in this
s t a r r y
universe,
sweet-heart.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 8:13 AM UTC
I have a nome de plume,
A pseudonym,
An AKA that let's me tell
My secret.
None but me,
And the new moon
Knew it til this day.
I'll start
And end these poems
The same:
Using my new name.
I'll start
Saying something simple
Yet so simply profound;
The surest poem
With truth to its words
In all of creation -
I Love You
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
I belong in green forests
I belong in gray seas
The shore’s were I’m surest
Beneath waves I can breath
I belong amidst summits
I belong atop cliffs
Where other hearts plummet
Mine starts to lift
I long for the sea
I long for each tide
I long for the breeze
And the stars at my side
I want leaves in my hair
I want vines on my wrists
I want to breath in blue air
I want earth in my fists
I want salt on my lashes
I want trees at my stern
As each season passes
Another I’ll earn
I’ll watch for each solstice
I’ll encompass the night
The moons where my soul sits
But I’ll be back for first light
With each passing phase
My soul will eclipse
Life swells and fades
As the winds brush my lips
I belong far from doors
I belong far from walls
I’ll take the earth as my floor
Or I’ll take nothing at all
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 9:26 PM UTC
I hope I am grace to you
I hope I am the most powerful inspiration for good from a woman ever given to you
I hope I am a stonewall to you
A picture of the surest **** that ever kept Holland dry to you
I hope I am a warcry to you, what caused Braveheart to go and fight to you
I hope I am rest to you
I hope I am joy to you
I hope that I am hope to you
And I hope I am these things forever to you
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 2:52 AM UTC
Watch the dimming of the light in the midnight sky.
Watch it flicker, watch it fade above
as a life grabs at his chest from an attack on the heart below.
A star that's burned for eons has felt the experiences of many seasons; new days in the body always come and go.
Yet they're never guaranteed, only change and death be the surest thing; stars are born while others lose their glow.
Though the heart has failed, the sails of the soul will prevail and bring it safely home.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 8:35 AM UTC
"amen!" booms the stout man behind me
and it's joyful
except it's not.
because i know what he has never learned
and i see what he refuses to see.
you love to think you're right
well, that's universal.
bend the words all you want
to support what you're saying
and it doesn't make you right.
defend your hate with words of
"god"
divert the blame from your charcoal heart.
and it doesn't make you right.
"the atheists won't be so smug when
they're burning in hell,"
the sunday school teacher says.
i wonder what she heard growing up
to make her so scared to think
to consider
to decide what she thought about the world.
and the preacher shakes my hand
and his wife hugs me warmly
but i can't help but wonder
what these loving souls would do
if i told them.
if i stood up and said,
"i respect your views, but i don't believe
there's a god watching over me and you."
well i imagine they'd have a lot to say
but it wouldn't begin with
anything about
respect.
and i have learned, by now
the surest way to tell
that someone is wrong
is if they refuse to acknowledge
the possibility of it.
and as the children nod along
to the condemnations
i don't need to burn in hell
i don't need everlasting punishment
this is all the agony i need
and after listening to this,
burning
sounds
fine.
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 11:48 PM UTC
In this town, of park and stone
The rain comes every day
Scrubbing clean the grime accrued
Of city's sin and labor's clay.
And perched in a window is The Girl
Who cannot forget
The blackest times of this dismal street
And the fractures forming, yet.
Because this present darkness
Will in surest memory fade
For the blessed many
Who at night let go the day
But She will sit in her lonely sill
Knowing there are none who will relate
As they, unburdened, meander on
As she drags behind a weight.
It's a heavy story, drenched and clothed,
In the mud, the rain and black
That speaks unfondly of us all
Of our unkind lack.
And though an inch of glass is all there is
To keep her from below
Always on that edge She sits
Come storm, come fire, or snow.
The truth is she would leap
But for that lonely inch of glass
And The Bottom longs for the day they meet
As it stares back up and laughs
But as if a laugh in lover's quarrel
It drives her to spite
To serve as the homily's vanguard
And bring a candle to the night
Because though that little inch is all she has
She knows that inch is hers
And it will not be given, freely
Nor will it pass unheard.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 7:37 AM UTC
A poem about you.
Give love
Be and see love
You forget yourself when you think of me
And then you remember you are the surest thing
Your dream is the dream that will be remembered
You fight on through your loved one’s peril
You make me want to punch you with your self-righteous remarks
Your judgments that injure me and my actions
Your opinions that speak louder than words as if the louder you speak, the more they will ring true
You have eyes of blue steel that have stolen my heart
Your strength in character shows up on the red on your sleeve
You understand when I fight against you
You forgive when I slap and ridicule you
You give your heart away, your time to me, you love harder and stronger than anyone I've ever known
You give yourself more to acts of kindness for me
You love freely with no boundary
You see me
You forgive me
I care too much about the little things you say
The things that matter to me don’t matter to you
It hurts
Money is lacking
Security is nowhere
Stability does not exist
Responsibility is you being irresponsible
Time and time and time again
These are all words you deem you hate
Yet you declare you hate nothing
No thing matters to you and that spells out “WARNING” signals to my aching heart
I ache for normalcy
I yearn for stability
I want to build a life with you, you declare it
Yet the building blocks are not there
I want you to succeed
But wanting and waiting and wishing and hoping are taking its toll on me
I want your brand of love but I deeply need stability
what is there to do?
can both exist between me and you?
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 10:20 PM UTC
When you are together
Be together completely
Let them know
That they are loved
Until they begin to understand
What that actually feels like
And then keep on with it
Loyal by nature
Be rest assured
That they'll stick around
So let me scale your walls and
Be close enough to love you
And carefully search for
Signs of the surest routes
To your golden heart
May 19, 2019
May 19, 2019 at 3:46 AM UTC
All I want for Christmas is to see the twenty-fifth.
If I’m being really honest, it’s my biggest Christmas wish!
The Mayans and the Hopis all predict our end is near,
They have made my season, so far, quite devoid of Christmas cheer!
If I could have my heart’s wish, and have it truly come to pass,
The world would keep on turning through its celestial, star-filled path!
Mankind would end its fighting and its cruelness to our earth,
And find some way in daily life to put each other first!
We’d set aside our differences, and all our cults and creeds,
And focus on the surest way to relieve the world’s needs!
We’d make sure every baby, every child, and every man
Was honored and respected in every culture ‘cross the land!
But if it’s true, and life will end as ancient people said,
And all of this won’t come to pass because we’ll all be dead,
Then there’s no harm in starting NOW and doing what we can,
To help improve the earth and skies and love our fellow man!
For just one day, and then the next, and so forth, on and on,
If we can love our earth and kin, a whole new world will dawn!
So Santa, maybe I misspoke on what my wish would be.
I’d rather have a peace-filled world and have it start with me!
Peace on earth, good will to men.
© 2012 Michael Hunter
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 8:53 PM UTC