"terrifyingly" poems
She’s got scars on her legs,
calls them battle wounds,
I’ve got the music up way to loud,
so loud we can’t hear our thoughts,
city lights provide the background,
as we lose control and make love,
doing anything to feel anything,
because it’s 2018 and it feels like no one gives a fck,
so we fck,
and after it's said and done she says,
“I don’t usually do this.”,
yeah well we often do things we don’t usually do,
no road home and no rules,
no control no lines no tolls,
keep knocking and you can come in,
but no one’s home,
what’s going on up there,
how can you be so terrifyingly beautiful,
why are you armed with such a stare,
I know you’re a weapon but what do you use it for,
armed to the teeth no bark all bite,
I say she’s a unicorn she says she’s a vampire,
and I don’t fall in love but with this one I just might,
because we better express ourselves before we expire,
got burned from her fire,
but it hurt so good,
like those cuts that we inflicted onto each other,
feeling erratic I guess blame it on the mood,
always ready to talk about anything except the truth,
she says she only lied to me once,
and that was about not liking Ethiopian food,
and I pretend to care but honestly don’t know if I give a fck,
what the fck,
I’m drunk,
and I don’t usually drink,
but I often do things I don’t usually do,
and I don’t mean to be rude,
but I’m not sure I love you,
because even if I did,
I’m not sure it’d matter to you so what’s the use,
you want the truth,
the truth is we’re born alone and we die alone,
and in the middle is where I found you,
and for a moment this runaway thought he'd found a home,
and I wanted us to stay forever in that moment,
laying there naked in each other’s arms,
but you were insecure and covered yourself back up,
because you didn’t want me to see your scars,
you’ve got scars on her legs,
calls them battle wounds,
I’ve got the music up way to loud,
so loud we can’t hear our thoughts,
city lights provide the background,
as we lose control and make love,
doing anything to feel anything,
because it’s 2018 and it feels like no one gives a fck...
∆ LaLux ∆
Melbourne, Australia
October 2018
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 10:10 AM UTC
As mother nature's
Punitive measure
Against a society
In maintaining
The statuesque
That doesn't bother,
Our rivers
Had become subject
To a water thirst,
To the extent
Of projecting
Rocky ribs
Terrifyingly protruded out
For easy count!
But now thanks to
The all-out, terrace making
And reafforestation effort
Of each catchment
Farmers have made a point
And also to the afforestation
Move of the government
Rivers aside from quenching
Their insatiable thirst
Have resumed
To brim over
With floods
Drinking water
To their hearts' content.
Our forests once stripped of
Their wooded cover
Have started, fast, to recover
From afar they are seen
Robed eye-catching green
From a fry-pan sky
Allowing a shelter
Also busy
Carbon to sequester.
Wild animals
That migrated
Have preferred
Back their way to find.
Now farmers don't have
Deep to dig
To sink a water well
Or find a nearby spring.
Birds are heard chirruping
Be it winter, summer or spring,
While Brooks bubbling.
Buzzing and hovering
From this to that flower
Bees are producing
Organic honey by the hour.
Promising a bumper harvest
Farmer's plots have
Fortunately continued
To resuscitate!
Those leaving
Their denuded abode behind
Away, who preferred
To stay
'We will return back
home soon! '
Is what
They say.
Happily enough
Mother nature
Affords us a second chance
Imbued with
Environment stewardship
If we are willing to mend
Our wrong 'Feast today
famine tomorrow! ' stance.
To dispel the spectre
Of climate change
And systematically face
The global challenge
True to the adage
'We have either to
swim together
or sink together! '
Hence in fighting the challenge
Or adapting to the change
Back scratching,
We have to be on the same page.
Indeed, irrigation must
Not slip our mind
For erratic rainfall
A lasting solution
If we must find.//
Once a famous Ethiopian Poet Pro.Debebe Seifu Who had passed away had penned down a picturesque poem lamenting the land degradation, deforestation and change of climate the country was suffering.The bad scenario seemed unrecoverable.Now a days Ethiopia is reversing that sad episode.I have therefore to write a poem on this
#change #trees #erosion #climate #deforestation #enviroment #degeradation #desertification
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 4:22 AM UTC
I walked past old, dead, trees
And into an old, abandoned park
I glanced at the huge, old tree
At the decayed bark
I returned my eyes to the playground
Then checked my watch
Five minutes till midnight
Then they will begin their march
I sat on an old, broken swing
Staring into the dark
Then there was that familiar ring
That rung throughout the park
I hid under the slide
So I couldn't be taken
Then they left
Leaving me to play
Momma would worry about my land of play
But I ignored that
Crawled out into the night
I sat on my swing
Looking in the dark
My midnight playground
Isn't as magical as it seems
A horrifying destination
That clouds my dreams
But I am cursed to forever find myself here
At the twelve hour
Terrifyingly dangerous
I forever walk alone
To my midnight playground
Since the age of three
Now I am thirteen
The monsters roam freely
I only depend on me
I can not leave this cursed place
Until the next night
But remains night as the moon holds still
I was forced to remove people by ****
But that was ten years ago
I do it on my own
This place disappears when I escape
It holds the remains of the bodies
Just to haunt my soul
I get called by its whispers
Telling me to follow
Then I find myself approaching
It's gate of the marrow
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 4:46 PM UTC
I hate being vulnerable.
It’s terrifying.
Letting go of those emotions
that you work so hard to hide.
Every day, at some point,
I have to force down negative
emotions at the thought that someone
might see and know that I am not
the strong person I show myself
to be. That I am weak and that
I am struggling.
I hate being vulnerable.
It entails opening up to someone
and telling them all those *****
little secrets that you desperately
seek to hide.
Being raw with someone.
But at the same time,
it sounds beautiful.
To be able to find someone
who you can be vulnerable with.
That trust.
That raw, unadulterated trust.
How can you know
when you have found the right person?
Can you know?
It’s terrifyingly beautiful.
I crave it.
I fear it.
Whatever I share could
be used against me.
They could laugh in my face and
mock my pain.
They could kick my dreams
in the dust or
never
speak
to
me
again.
I could be rejected.
But, I could be accepted.
I could be loved.
Respected.
Understood.
**It’s terrifying.
It’s beautiful.**
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
V-is for vowing to never drink *****
While on our voluntary vacation.
We have voiced our verification
In a high voltage volcano
While playing volleyball
And checking our voicemail.
While in this void,
A terrifyingly vivid *****
Who was a model for vogue
In which she wore a V-neck dress,
And ate all her vitamins
Vocabulized with much volume,
Her vow
To always,
Drink *****
May 11, 2010
May 11, 2010 at 10:16 AM UTC
Johnny can't join
his daddy has no car
Michael can't join
they don't like his shoes
Ahmed can't join
he has a funny name
Bobby can't join
supports the wrong team
"What's going on?"
bellows the red-faced teacher
"You can't treat each other like this!
"Have you ever been excluded?
"Yes?
"And how
"did it make you feel?"
He ushers them in, muttering
though somewhat gratified
by the shame in their eyes
Then herds them through
to assembly
where the guest of honour
is the minister
who proceeds to explain
to the obediently seated rows
that if they don't see things his way
they will be eternally,
terrifyingly
and agonisingly excluded
from the great big party in the sky
And the teacher hangs his head
in baffled complicity,
defeated.
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 2:56 PM UTC
Falling in love is dangerous. For when you fall in love, you pay a price. A price so unrealistic that you simply cannot pull out your checkbook and write down "here is my everything, please handle with care, very fragile" and expect it to cover the debt. No. You give your heart and your soul. Your mind is always cluttered with thoughts of them. Your body tingles when you hear their voice. You become addicted and you expect more and more, so you keep paying until one day, there's nothing left. You're completely theirs and your definition of home…begins with their name.
And just thinking about that is terrifyingly beautiful. Something could happen, and all that will be left of you are tears and a cracked voice to match the holes that cover the walls. Now there is no place to call home, you gave them everything. Someday you will be asked the question of what they returned and you'll reply: "they gave enough to make it seem like a lifetime of happiness, and more importantly, that feeling of love…was infinite."
In the end, there would be pain and you knew this, but you still them your all. You are stronger than you think and believe me when I say you will regain your all back.
Falling in love is dangerous, but you cannot stop it, you cannot slow it down, and you cannot escape it. So it's understandable to be scared, but just know it's okay to take that fall…especially for him.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 12:17 AM UTC
There's this mermaid girl I knew once.
She had long blonde hair,
and she smoked tobacco under water.
She defies the laws of the universe.
She had deep green eyes
that screamed the names of lonely sailors.
I hear they got lost in her eyes,
so lost no nautical device could guide them away.
Her ******* were covered by shells.
Sea shells that glowed their gratitude as they lay on her chest.
I hear she moved exactly like the ocean, or maybe the ocean mimicked her.
When I heard her voice,
it was like bubbles.
Like bubbles that begin at the bottom of the sea and run through the water to so delicately burst on the top.
But even delicate bubbles have capacity for violence.
We, they, you, have reverence for a voice they tell stories about.
Her face shone like the ripples of light at sunset that stunned the sailors in awe.
Her hands, smooth like pearls.
Her lips, tantalizingly terrifyingly beautiful as all the reefs the wrecked the ships.
I knew a mermaid girl once. She had long blonde hair and she smoked tobacco underwater.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 1:43 PM UTC
I think the thing that fascinates people the most about shooting stars is how fleeting they are. They are here one second and gone the next. They are relatable. Life is here one second and can be taken the next. Memories and moments are here one second and then gone the next. Shooting stars are rare and uncertain. They are beautiful and unique. They are a glimpse into something terrifyingly unknown. They are home to our wishes and dreams. They are far away and distant, surreal entities falling through the night sky. They are adrenaline rushing through serenity. They make us ask questions. They make us calm. They give us hope. But most importantly they bring a smile to our face, maybe when we need it the most. So make a wish.
when does familiar
become boring and mundane?
when does home
become a place we once knew?
when does life
move on?
where do we go from here?
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 9:14 AM UTC
They are Immortal.
They are dead inside.
They are pale.
They often sparkle
but naturally don't.
They bite necks.
They are nocturnal.
They are out for blood.
They enthrall people effortlessly.
Their loved ones are often dead
or being mourned
while secretlly alive.
They act like the cool kids.
Or the awkward emo clicks,
but are treated like this exclusive club.
They don't show up in mirrors
because this IS their reflection.
They don't let the real them see the sun.
I am reflecting.
On.
Why.
Why have I only dated vampires?
I'm loosing lots of blood.
But
What am I gaining?
Besides y'know...
their blood diseases.
And lots of exciting! moments
That belong in movies
that would get
or already have gotten
way to popular.
And be better as books.
Some of them can throw me across a room.
Some of them love to count.
some of them seem to only show up around halloween and looove chocolate
Don't get me wrong.
I still love all these terrifyingly
Seductive temptresses.
I have a type.
But I don't know if it's A
Or B
Or O negative?
I'm an optimism ******
Oh, Positive?
I'm not afraid of needles
But they're afraid of me.
I tend to be a universal donor.
Which makes matching blood hard
Blood that works with my body is rare.
This is not to say anyone
could use my blood
Universal donor or not.
I am infected
with a blood disease
It could be vampirism
Or well, whatever causes one to seek
Vampires.
I Can't confirm anything about wooden stakes
Or decapitation or garlic.
But i can assure you setting them on fire doesn't work.
No matter how hot or fiery I make them
Their anger never kills them
It just makes them stronger.
But it does repel them quite nicely.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 11:44 PM UTC
for every action defined
there are infinite that remain
utterly unnamed and
are vitally spoken
in whispers on the
pieces never lived.
these incalculably splintering,
passively accumulating,
terrifyingly ungrasped possibilities
compile and cache
and compress and comeback
in the saddest seconds,
where one can merely conject
their meaningfulness,
realizing that there
is infinity in everything
and therefore potential
even in the kinetic.
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 2:52 AM UTC
You are finally here
My sweet, sweet child.
The closest thing to heaven
I have ever touched,
An angel sleeping in my arms.
Every part of you is beautiful.
Your eyes are beautiful.
Your nose is beautiful.
Your lips are beautiful.
Your hands the size of my thumb are beautiful.
The touch of your skin creates an ecstasy.
I could look at you all day,
Counting your fingers
And your tiny toes.
I could hold you forever,
Kissing your forehead
Every time you close your eyes.
I long to hold your skin to mine
As I have visions of the future,
You growing and calling me "Mama".
You are my miracle.
And as I watch you suckle at my breast
The thought that you depend on me
For nourishment and life
Presents itself
As the most terrifyingly beautiful thought.
Enough to make tears roll down my face
And unto your porcelain skin.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
Life isn't fair.
*Sometimes it's taking more than it's giving.
Yell for justice, if you want or
dream of somebody saving you,
of someone giving you happiness
like buying it in a shop as a gift.
Get depressed, stay at home,
get isolated, get even more depressed,
get frustrated, get lost,
counting the chances passing by.*
Life isn't complicated.
*It's a complex simplicity, not a simple complexity.
Sometimes you win, sometimes you loose,
a simple truth of life,
you never learn in school from your teachers
or at home from your parents
or by listening to your friends
or watching anybody else.
It's something life tells
occasionally.*
Life isn't serious.
*It tells you a joke almost every day;
a joke so surprisingely good, you will cry for months
a joke so intensely captivating, you won't be able to laugh
a joke so terrifyingly amusing, you cannot listen to it again
or it will burst your chest in hilariousness.
Laugh about it, loud and crazy,
don't retreat a chance to look,
as life's osbcure and obtrusive faible for grim sarcasm,
is always worth a level-up or two.*
Life is just living.
It's about hanging on, about clinging to it;
There is nothing special to it, no mysteries to be solved,
no desire and no craving, except you go for it.
It's a game you can't refuse without playing it anyway,
so trying to win is as good as loosing by doing nothing.
And when you are not satisfied with the outcome
or you always end up loosing despite your biggest efforts,
you can always change how, why and with who you play
and start anew.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 6:10 AM UTC
*It was a handful
of empathetically attentive people
who noticed that she was absent,
even though she was standing
in the centre
of the well-lit room,
It was the same few
helpless people
who witnessed the moment
that she disappeared;
as she vanished
into the dense thickness
of Anxiety's terrifyingly wretched,
invisible,
shroud of gloom.
By Lady R.F ©2016*
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 4:49 AM UTC
Feelings overflowing
Dripping from the cracks in my heart
Coursing through my veins
The excess seeps into my lungs
And I can't breathe
I watch you carefully
Trying desperately to read you
But like a million books in foreign tongue
I cannot follow the lines
Enough to reach a valid conclusion
The distance between us is stiff
My body aches with the tension of this anxiety
And though I avoid eye contact mostly
Sometimes I let myself slip
While it felt so wrong before
I'm learning to love myself
And embrace this capacity
To love multiple people at once
I'm slowly accepting my feelings for you
Swimming alongside my love for her
And here we are
Waiting patiently for what?
We have the perfect chance at something
Anything
And we embrace every minute of it
Every flirty text that makes my heart race
Every tear spawning from our partners' faces
The beautiful distance between us
Without the pressure and rush often associated with love
We sacrifice our energy on loved ones who don't understand
The true extent to which some humans can love
We endure the pain of supporting confused partners
So we can spend that extra time getting ready
To look cute for a simple conversation on my couch
I'm happy this way
Free from the socialized constraints of monogamy
Allowed to feel freely
To love freely
And regardless of where this experience leaves us
I'm going to embrace every opportunity it offers
And though our path is terrifyingly unmarked
I couldn't feel more at peace with it
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 4:07 AM UTC
"you only hug me in airports" was the last thing I heard her say
as she opened her arms
to her eldest daughter
and I was nothing short of amazed
when they walked into each others arms
I saw her close her eyes
if only for a second
drinking the moment through her pores
as if the rest of us were invisible
even to the night
that moment seemed to stretch
to morph
to erase years of pain
and close the gap of months
in a single step
together
I wonder if she heard the screaming in her ears
or the sound of glass breaking
the rain on her face
the night that she slammed the door on that same little girl
now an adult
but still small enough to fit between arms
I'll never know what happened between them
but I imagine it like lightning
hitting their chests in a terrifyingly beautiful fashion
and I was waiting for her daughter
to cry out
"no, you only hug me in airports"
and I'm not sure
if they will ever see each other
again
I wonder if they're happy
or simply
content
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
The light in me is alive!
Nothing will stop me.
Earthquake-erupting-eardrum shattering explosions
Brightening and exciting
Transforming the hues of the skies.
Rage with heat
silent as fire
No element can conquer or counter me
_My hatred is unmatched_
My love is stronger compared
to any living external force
_Spirit or in flesh.
Prepare for the worse and arm
yourself with your best!
My frustration in combination with faith of heart
beautifully spreads chaotic balance.
Summoned by the user who exceeds the power of fire users.
Terrifyingly destructive if misused, peacefully and devastatingly
enhances life in all I love.
I can be at peace, with all I have to face.
It will provide blessings to my joys.
Magic is a source to not play with as a toy._
Jul 28, 2022
Jul 28, 2022 at 9:15 AM UTC
Someone find me peace
Find me a silence that is terrifyingly deep
Find me a white noise in the background of dreams
Find the voices and calm them please
Find the crazy and bring it to it's knees
Find a gun to shoot it between
Large eyes glowing green
Find anything that might make me feel free
If you see that I'm chained, find the key
Someone find me kindness
In the hearts of the open-minded
Find the heartless
Give them each a piece of my heart so I can hurt less
Find the tired and lonely and hardheaded
Tell them to stop making the sun shine less
Find me the the ones who make the timed tests
They need to tell me how much time I have left
Someone find my Nirvana
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 10:21 PM UTC
I used to eat ice cream on a pretty strict and regular schedule.
The anticipation for those designated nights consumed my naive mind.
Now,
on the nights that used to mean sweet, supple mounds of delicious bliss,
however brief,
I drink Missouri water from a thick, old, dusty glass.
As I tip the last drops into my mouth,
I see a mysterious stain (or is it a clump?) on the bottom.
Fortunately, I think to myself,
whatever that was didn't get into me.
Water runs through.
It cleans out.
It leaves nothing behind but undesireable water spots
in sinks and on windshields
mascara lines tracking down cheeks to squeeze between pushed up *****
and dead worms on the sidewalk,
evicted by the flood of this
life-giving,
breath-taking
rain,
waves,
that drink when your lips are cracking and you feel as if your mouth is filled with cotton,
when you look at a ***** puddle and think,
my GOD am I thirsty.
Ice cream melts in the mouth.
It refreshes in the heat of summer,
it teases the tongue with sugar and milk and so many seductive flavors.
It's best on special occasions,
even though it's desired all the time.
Sometimes it can be bought with the change found on a scavenger hunt in a car,
and other times,
it can't.
But even as the frozen delight slides off your tongue and into your stomach,
your tastebuds tremble at the lack of sweet.
They spite you with a bitterness and a dry, sticky feeling,
and your teeth feel coated with a grime you can't seem to lick off.
You keep wiping at your lips,
for you can't shake off the notion that you got some of the experience on your face.
I'm not even going to mention the calorie content of what you just downed.
And sometimes,
if you're like me,
too much can make you choke.
Your throat and lungs seem to be tucked within a terrifyingly tight Chinese finger,
and each spoonful is a desperate attempt to escape
only to fall farther into a trap I like to call
love.
May 3, 2012
May 3, 2012 at 9:45 PM UTC
I have wandered a street.
A long and lonely street.
There were people, of course.
Wanderers too.
But it was still,
just a lonely street.
There was a chill in the air,
and the ever falling mist.
It was dark, lonely, and cold.
The people were just people,
so I was still alone.
I made acquaintances,
many of them,
along the way.
But I never meant much to them.
Nor they to I.
Because they were just people.
They could not understand me.
The could not love me.
And I never understood them either.
And loved only a select few
that I thought were different.
I walked with them.
We walked together.
But we were always different.
Yes, I loved them too much.
Perhaps I still do.
But we always walked different paths.
Except for you.
We crossed paths,
many years ago
when I was discovering myself.
We walked a while,
we talked a while.
I knew you were different,
even then.
Something was between us.
I felt it,
and I knew you did too.
You professed that it was love.
And indeed it was.
For a while afterwards,
we walked together.
But then something happened.
My path diverged.
Or maybe it was yours.
Either way,
we both walked alone.
The road became treacherous.
That dark and lonely road.
I was overcome with loneliness,
soaked to the bone in misery
and heartache.
I was molded in ways
no soul should ever experience.
But I endured.
I learned many valuable lessons.
Most of them the hard way.
I fought my own demons,
again and again and
again.
During this time,
our paths converged several more times.
We walked together again,
for some too brief times.
While our paths were split again,
I tried to survive you
with others.
But in my heart,
I always knew it was futile.
They were never different.
Not the way you are.
They were never..
you.
And I walked on.
On and on.
For what seemed like forever,
down the long and winding road.
I stumbled, I fell,
I hurt, I cried,
until I realized.
It's you.
I need you.
Our paths once again converge.
We are walking together again.
Hand in hand.
Together.
Finally, I accept that we are meant
to walk together, to talk together,
to laugh together, to live together,
to love together,
down this road.
Forever.
And, although my demons still haunt me,
at least I'll never face them alone
again.
And, though my road is still
terrifyingly dark,
at least I walk it with you.
I've found you.
Finally.
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 8:31 PM UTC
You speak too quietly that I forget you are suffering.
You move too silently yet your touch is deafening.
Your gaze burns heatedly, it should be frightening,
yet your touch comes too gently, still terrifyingly captivating.
I reach blindly, caught up in the whole of you, searching.
I grasp tightly, not knowing what I found, yet still wanting.
I am confused. I do not know the depth of your soul, the extent of it.
I cannot comprehend it. Yet I let myself sink slowly.
I am drifting. I am not afraid.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 10:31 AM UTC
Last night
Holding me tight
He whispered
“You want to keep me?”
Yes, always.
“I guess I’d better get you a ring.”
I smile
Trying to hide what I’m thinking.
That this is terrifyingly exciting.
Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 11:15 PM UTC
Other people see only what I let peek through.
Small bits,
The false bottom
Tidying the Dark.
I risk too much in showing.
Yet, somehow,
Despite my efforts,
You startle me.
Glimpsing, somehow, by sheer luck or will or oneness,
That which has never been seen before.
Amazingly,
Miraculously,
Terrifyingly,
You don't look away in horror or shame.
And I begin to unfold.
And you with giant scissors ceremoniously releasing me from myself.
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
Strippers blown out of moving caravans of pornographic stature
Lesbians terrifyingly terrify each other to pieces in the back seat
Of a vintage Camero built for speed and automobile crashes
Blood red runs off black lightening sunshine
Telephone polls and graveyard ditches
Can you handle this the raving seductress asks
No problem with the foot on the floor
Driving west
High on scorpion **** and speed
Fire fighters are ravenous breed
Barb-wired writers are blasphemous breed
Chasing antique dreams towards the sunset
Off lost in the Desert Mountains
Thirst for quench and moonshine howls
LA is a happening place
**
Axes
Axles
Axed
**
Sep 16, 2011
Sep 16, 2011 at 6:52 PM UTC
That girl has a beautiful soul
And if you are lucky enough to have her
You **** well better appreciate that about her
...she's my best friend.
Hurt her, and I impale you. :)
Repost if you are fiercely (and occasionally slightly terrifyingly) protective of your best friends
Please comment I love to read interpretations of my work!
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 8:18 PM UTC