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Egaeus Thompson Mar 2013
Nearly home.

The bed
And the slippers grow ever closer.

A memory of things that give comfort seem palatial,
Euphoric in the mind's eye,
Though I do seem to ponder of its romanticized reality

Memories always seem so warm.

In reality,
The things that hold others close are affirming.
Love,
Shared events
Symbiotic empathy,
But given the current state...


The boring,
The mundane,
The trivial and the tedious that makes the most of a lifetime
Are omitted from the mind.

But why not have a memory full of nothing but the nothingness of life?
The train rides?
Waiting for the toaster to splay its insides
So I can feast on its wonderful toasty goodness?
Talking to the tenant who does not understand
That a bouncing leg
And constant time updates are signposts to *******?

Empty the files of my brain
And fill it with the moments of nothing.
These moments and these alone
Are your true self.
if you are a good person
Is not determined by
How many charities earn your pay
Or how many items stored,
What you are is chosen by the lonely,
The solitary,
The Tigress.

Only when you accept that person,
You are happy
And free.


But don't hold your breath.
Dr zik Mar 2015
You are in my conscious, hope, unconscious, wish, doubt
Your existence unshakable, hidden, obvious
                                         Start is You and end is You, yes and no is You!
Hidden in the core of heart, Owner, Tenant You!
Your Messenger has granted me such a caring light
                                         Start is You and end is You, yes and no is You!
You are with me O’ my Lord! soul speech is You!
Send is You receive is You, dealt and deal is You!
                                         Start is You and end is You, yes and no is You!
A call arose in my heart; go towards the Lord!
A wondrous way started: soul; attracted by You!'
                                         Start is You and end is You, yes and no is You!
You made me conscious of day; it’s prime of life
You are recognizer Lord; sign and soul is You!
                                         Start is You and end is You, yes and no is You!
To my mind there is only You; so seeking You!
How could I lose my Lord? Where? nowhere You?
                                         Start is You and end is You, yes and no is You!
I am feeling felt is You; deal and done is You!
I am fan and fun is You; all and One is You!
                                         Start is You and end is You, yes and no is You!
A translation of my own poem written in Urdu language. The name of book is "RAH TAKTI AANKH (راہ تکتی آنکھ)"
Gill Jan 2018
You are not a tenant
in my mind anymore—
You have built a home
in my heart



glb©2018
zebra Jun 2017
as a child i had a sense of before
i only a tenant in this world

i dreamt, i remembered
a place of light and freedom
of flying weightless
without a care
recurring reveries
of changeless drifting

but as i got older
my astral excursions
turned to thin air
much to hearts despair
i fell weighted to this terrestrial sphere
by thickened accumulations
of hard niches and obscurations
a delicate spark burdened
by sheaths of gnawing reason
engulfed in brutish struggle

at times
i obsessed
aching to go
back from where i came
maybe stepping in front of a speeding car
desperate to get home
where the dead
live it up

cadaverous child
a strewn tangle of little limbs
broken
on a country highway
who made a hard sacrifice
for a bigger life
where the very sensation of existence
was a floating ecstasy
like an atomized cloud puff

where the dead
are not dead at all
but enchanted children
living
with faces like suns
on the other-side of the looking glass
feet to the stars
in the arms of heaven
bri Jul 2018
I don't usually feel
this way about
anything or
anyone
You lit up
something in me
that I had no idea existed
You became a
permanent tenant
of my heart
An infinite vision
in my mind
A neverending
part of my life
enduring through
all of life's misfortunes
A catastrophe
of both of our lives
that intertwined
and became
an absurd idea
& total fantasy

- but life went on
eccedentesiast
(noun)

someone who hides pain behind a smile.
AditiBoo Aug 2018
The air was damp and the ceiling could take no more
Drop by drop, it leaked
Regularly, consistently with a promise much water in store
With each drop the tenant's worry was piqued

A ceiling dripping carries much sorrow
Just like us, trying to halt our pain from flowing out
The ceiling stifles its avalanche of tears for the morrow
Just like us, gulping in air, preventing the blow out

The tenant stands, helpless, not knowing what to do
Wondering how much water could the ceiling hold
What would another round of rain lashing out on it do?
Standing so close, he could feel the cold

And the ceiling kept on dripping, a drop at a time
Holding up the fort steadily, even if a little begrimed
But that stain expanded and spread
Showing the extent of the hurt time had bred

Suddenly, the threat of rain faded
Just like the anger in a person dissipates
And sun dried out the ceiling, now jaded
Just like resilience, even despair, mutates

And the tenant, anxious, is finally able to step in
Finds the tools to help fix and strengthen the ceiling
"No one and nothing will ever make you cave in
I will help you stay up", he keeps earnestly repeating

The tenant realised that the ceiling had protected him
Taking up all the anger of the weather on its shoulders
Preventing even a single drop from landing on him
Even if doing so had caused it to decay and moulder...
Bobby Copeland Oct 2018
Without legitimate occupancy,
Adverse possession is the legal right
Of anyone who moves in and maintains
A property, so here's the deal. We must
Move in to 1600 Penn,
The current tenant having broke the lease.
The caravan from Guatemala first, Hondurans trudging slowly from the depth.
Then the Yemen children not yet murdered,
Those with preexisting conditions next,
And women whose assaults were ridiculed,
Those roughed up by cops and politicians.
Losers in the war on drugs, the big house
Having far exceeded capacity.
The mentally ill, discarded by the
Great communicator after he tore
The Solar panels off the roof.  This is
Anger, not poetic license.  When a
Long train of abuses and usurpations
Evinces a design to reduce them
Under absolute Despotism, it
Is their right, it is their duty to throw
Off such Government, and to provide new
Guards for their future security. Such
Has been the patient sufferance of these
And such is now the necessity which
Constrains them to alter their systems of
Government.  And journalists under  fire,
If there's room still left in the briefing room,
Let facts be submitted to a candid
                          World.
After Thomas Jefferson
Philipp K J Mar 1
You want everything excellent from him
Can't afford, understand how much he burnt
Of his self the candle, the oil turned
Low in the pail, the toil to see you can't.

Not to fail to prevail hard he takes his tool
Every time you try to derail his profile cool
With loud laments upon the un-attained
Without standing  a while in praise of what's gained.

A soothing word of grace for the acts that comprise
In fact parts of him too a human caprice.
Some eternal fuel supply the sheen
From an unknown source we believe
Hide beyond the cosmos we live.

For what he does is not his power
But whose behind him under cover
With patented rehearsal who hold
The instincts in his dream could code
And pull decode in no time with strings
His acts are bound per whose wish he springs.

But you demand him to excel and act
your script well and bewail
The one he couldn't afford the travail
The same might be against whose will
That he may over do the strain
whose strings may not hold the sprain.

But since your love is visible to him
Surrenders he like a child in its prime
But you want him to pay rent, a
tenant
For the love space you render and bill
To see your live wish currents to fulfill
Knowing or unknowing the fact a crime
That his talent circuit may get defunct
If he over loads to make you pleasant.
Note: 'You'can be either He or She in a relationship. Here the 3rd person he and his are used for convenience. It can be read substituting with  she and her in his place.
Thanks for reading :)
Marlo Cabrera Oct 2018
Sometimes I get sad
like REALLY sad

Actually not just sometimes but all the time

my chest would feel like an empty grave
screaming for it’s tenant.

The gaping hole that longs for someone to cradle into the night
A lover longing for it’s beloved.

I would have thoughts of the things I have lost
like a tree wondering where it’s leaves have gone in the fall.

I have memories and feelings that I have flung to the back of my head
like ***** laundry that just waits for me to deal with it.
I know one day I will have to pick them up and shove them into the washing machine
but here I am just ignoring it.
I am running out of clean clothes to wear
and have a mountain of ***** clothes to face

I have sorrows that I have coated in caramel
like candied apples
thinking that they’d be sweet but they still taste so bitter.

My heart was burning house filled with people dancing in it
The people have grown tired have left
and the firemen have arrived.

Now it nothing but a soggy dance floor with a shattered disco ball.
A sun that has exploded and have become a super nova
reminiscing what it once was and mourning what it will never be.

I hope day I won’t feel as much sad
that one day I will have enough motivation to face that mountain of ***** clothes.
I hope that one day I will be brave enough to be happy.
But till then I hope y’all keep me company.

Cause sometimes, most of the time
One of the main reasons I sad is because
I am lonely.
Man depression is such a ***** to deal with.
here's a very candid poem reflecting what I am feeling at the moment.
Woody Aug 2018
The dark skinned tenant farmer
sleepless, hungry, yawning
rocking on a rickety porch
near midnight staring wide-
eyed at the sky and full moon
thinking not dreaming of a black
dinner bell, a large bright white
house, like an empty china plate
with no supper laid out, loud
skinny dog growling at the sour
smell of a certain kind of fate
carried on a southerly wind
just enough to make tired old
cotton picking men feel cold
and full of a poor man’s hate.
Yenson Mar 2
It's So Simple
It's so simple
yet it all goes over their heads
like the blue skies above
like the unseen winds that lingers

You see me
notice me and I freely occupy your mind
I roam in your thoughts
and sometimes I rush in your veins
hot or cold depending your moods

It because, like it or not
I am unique, memorable, outstanding
Quietly Charismatic, now larger than life
A David amongst men
just not like anybody else
because of this, I have made an impression
on you and become an invitee into your selves
a tenant in your minds, a sitting thought edifice
that pillars a saloon in your willing minds

With me though, it's not the same
Why would I see you in my thoughts and mind
there's nothing charismatic or remarkable
edifying, impressionable or admirable here
a bunch of fooled acolytes, some serving staffs
some unengaging neighbourhood trawls
some outsiders grateful for inclusions
some anodyne trolls, some nutcases looking to vent
a mish-mash of brain-washed strangers

All these don't impact my consciousness
I know them not, they know the clone sold to them
They utter *******, it stays *******
they act their dramas, I ain't got a clue
people I give real attention to, don't behave stupid
You sit to watch me leave to bang a door
Good for you, you got the time and a door to bang
thank God I'm not reduced to being you
the trolls write their fantasies, I think Plato, Descartes,
Kant, Nietzsche and a host of others, God stays always

Anchoring my mind to mediocrity is pointless
what gains do I get from immaturity being immaturity
what interest are fooled adult males displaying ignorance
who dances with fools and then complain they are limbless
how can the drivel from scums give me sleepless nights
or be moved by the scripted lies of a double-bluff scripted lies
or play the game of hearts when my heart is not in it
They believe they are playing Checkmate on a King
There is no King, just an ordinary man that THIEVES want
you to harass, intimidate and drive away, so their guilts
and fears stops burning them

If I am fractured mentally, spiritually or physically
I would not be here, I have another home to go to
If I was any of what they say I am or was, I would not stay to
weather a crazy, unjust and unfair storm
If I was a greedy leech, why was I working twelve hour nights
while the Thieves next door where drinking and stealing
If I was some chauvinistic pig why was this only known after
eighteen years of marriage, when my wife was threatened and bullied
How many others have claimed I was this bad tempered Ogre
until I forcefully gave racist and bullying criminals a piece of my mind
If I had done anything wrong I would have gone a long long time ago
Criminals want to drive me OUT to justify their lies and cover their disgraceful crime and shame
I am me, I am here and I stay for I am not afraid of the truth, They are...........

— The End —