"tred" poems
No one chose to iterate
Or elaborate to me
The vast unending sea of grief
We tred; trying to breathe
Our paths bisect and weave to form
A beautiful tapestry
That on the surface gleams and glows
With possibility.
Beneath, time tugs each thin line
Until one snaps and breaks
One little thread removed and gone
Left havoc in its wake.
Something once so beautiful
Unravels, sags and fades
Parallel to how the Sun
Sets each dying day.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
^^/\^/\/\^
to climb the world of crags
the rock face clad in snow
men have given everything
to tred the icy floe
mountain sits
to tempt and lure
a special siren song
scaling up your scaly side
is only for the strong
for you are a dragon
breathing mist instead of fire
you can flick a climber
from your side
whenever you desire
you sleep and men are happy
you wake and we are shy
you shrug your mighty shoulders
and frail mortals die
but when you are peaceful
you inspire awe
we can stop
when we're on top
*and touch the face of
GOD*
soulsurvivor
(C) 7/4/2015
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 12:00 AM UTC
I've followed you
still eyes, years, captivated and lost,
all for you
glancing up to the glaicers in the sky
bloated, full and passing
asking
" Where are you going?"
rain is washing you away
I'm the runner
following you down inside the dirt
from which you grew
tempting in your branch hands
you wanted me
the slightest movement:
I'm yours
longing underneath my fingernails
heart stretched like a sail,
deep breaths push me forward
chasing you
inching
closer to you
but you started to tred the earth before I knew where it was you formed yourself
covered in ice
before you met your first early morning cigarette, dressed in baby blue sky
long before you reconsiled with absent nights and blood cells
or night walks envisioning a flame too hot to touch
and there I was,
past years, past knowingness of nights and days, staring at the face of the moon
you
one glance, one presence, one feeling
gravity
placing me ten thousand steps behind to love you
following your every direction
moving with winds that carried you all around
closing my eyes to dream your next step
hoping
it was torward me
but it wasn't
and here we are
another winter coming
and soon another passing
and all I've had to say all these cycles of seasons,
"I will love you"
and all you had was another footstep
another mark inside me
enclosing me
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 6:29 PM UTC
As Poets we tend to find beauty in the horrid.
We put fear in love but still
fall for it.
Far from the beauty and the beast
we find beauty in the beast.
Like a double homicide, suicide
And a love letter left behind;
"How could you! if I love you even now when I contemplate our deaths I still want to be laid a rest by your side. As for him, his body can burn and be turned to ashes. Or should he be buried in a open casket thirty feet deep so the heat can moist the skin and help it rot away. The stink for the filth he is. Let the dirt cover up what the worms and the magets will eat. God please for give me for the actions I will shortly take, yet these are not my sins. You showed me the path of peace but today the devil over took me. If you can't find it in you to forgive me then then you're not righteous. She is my wife and not even in death we'll be apart."
That love is so deep it cut through the skin swift like a samurai sword. No pain as the blood gushed from the neck like it hit a vein. Love so strong it sprung hate... so deep that pierced through the skin with a double edge knife. Not once not twice but thirty-three times as if death was sent by christ. Not one cut was precise.
That's the beauty in poetry
As two body lay a rest
Floor covered in red
Sirens approach
In blood he writes
If Picasso would had never displayed his art the world would had never known him
A bullet in the magnum
As he laid next to his wife
kissed her with trembling lips one last time
Digged the gun deep into his mouth
So far deep he gagged then
plaow.
Last bit of blood splatter
The beauty of love and hate
A poet a artist master-take is finding beauty in death as in life.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
I think I'm broken
I can't write anymore
Fragments of thoughts
Silly as they seem
Float in and out
But never solidify
Into the poetry I once could write
But did I ever really write poetry?
To me, poetry is not
Simple words
In a stanza
A couple rhymes
Iambic pentameter
"Where for art thou Romeo?"
To me, poetry is emotion
It is a raw feeling
The kind you are guilty having
But still experience nonetheless
It's holding on to a fragment of something
When you believe it is all you have left
But at the same time
Believing so much more is waiting for you
I always thought of so much poetry
When I looked at you
When I saw your face
When I heard your voice
But never felt courageous enough
To share the verses and rhymes
That echoed in my head
So after you left
Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall
In my heart
And cracked, spilling out all the verses
I never shared
On to here, Hello Poetry
But surprisingly,
The egg shells I always tred on when you were around
Disintegrated
Because for once, I could write how I felt
And thought that even if you read it
You wouldn't care anyway
I feel like I'm broken
Because I've always written of love
But since that never really goes away
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldn't put Humpty together again
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC
Why must you judge me?
The thoughts hidden in my head,
And you can't see my soul,
Can you hear this plea,
Please let me be free.
Why must you control me?
It's my path that i tred,
It's under control,
So why can't you see?
Please let me be free.
Why must you protect me?
Trust me instead,
That should be your role,
That is the Key,
Please let me be free.
Why must you decieve me?
it's lies that you've fed,
My happiness you stole,
You and your jealousy,
Won't let me be free.
Why must you forsake me?
Our friendship is dead,
It's lost in the hole,
It's the way it must be,
I choose to be free.
May 22, 2010
May 22, 2010 at 4:59 AM UTC
my heart ticks with the punctuated rhythm
of a girl busy with embroidery
i see a corpse and scrutinise all its secrets
it lingers with a purposeful dexterity
a tenacity that resembles autocrats
of a starved third world country
a dangerous presence that underpins
a blank prism
my reconnaissance reveals a frenetic arc
orbiting, humming as it does so
with intricate nightly returns
travels between light and shade
where black shadows tred
forming a link in the great causal chain
of human destiny
it is a place where stone ghosts welcome me
with threatening indifference of magical
incantations
i roam through deserted streets
with an inherent clumsiness
like waves on dark coastlines
that in hypnotic deception
form groups of disorientated sadness
where clouds of black crows fly around
sinister watch towers in the dark
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
Alone and aloof,
Far i will tred.
The sky is my roof,
The earth is my bed.
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 8:56 AM UTC
I don't intend to fight with our troops I'm not asking Santa for money rims our coupes,
Just some simple steel toe boots so I can stomp mud while putting haters in my tred,
They hated so much this season it's a wonder I ant dead,
Enough! It's Xmas I'm a forgive all the hateful things they might of said,
And stay focused on keeping my life up out the red,
So no Xmas presents or Xmas tree just steel toe boots for my haters
And good health for me
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
There is sand in my pockets
I am waiting on it to turn to gold
While the holes in my shoes
Refuse to tred carefully
On the contents of my unconsciousness
The constallated images of my mind
Giving them tangible form
Of opulent manifestation
Black rubies of forbidden thought
Who give birth to new emotions
Where galactic magicians sing
Incantatery truisms of other realities
Where banality is evaded with sharp realistic taste
That breeds on impulse of eternal heaviness
Of emotional anguish which seethe and bubble
Burst blisters of my charged inner self
My castle, my cell, my coffin, my grave
In ******** detonation of undiluted words
Concentrated, full, a blue fire of energized thrusts
Sustaining uninterrupted creation of imagery
There is sand in my pockets
I am waiting on it to turn to gold
I discard my shoes but retain their holes
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 2:53 PM UTC
Life and its ups and downs..
..towns
Becoming cities
Growing into
Monstrosities.
People pushed together
Like storms and weather
They grumble
Rumble
And in this rabid dry tumble they come out
All creased.
At least in the countryside where I reside
We have fresh air that fills the lungs..
..not forgetting the smell of fresh dung which they put on the crops
And then sell to the shops
Where the folk in the city can buy..vegetables to fry.
Stirred?..I could cry.
Abominations of regulations..the world is insane.
Takes in a deep breath
And looks once again..it still looks the same.
Men in the banks..those corporate tanks..it's a war
We fight on each and every side
Even in these hamlets where the gentlefolk reside.
There's not a hope..no release..
..from the unceasing march, of the shiny suits
Who would with their boots seek to trample and tred..
..and that being said,
We should surrender?
Tender our resignation and in utter frustration go home.
This is the New Rome we have built
Guilt you can keep.
I'm going to sleep
Tomorrow is only a dream.
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 6:31 AM UTC
A soul that has a body
A mind that has a face
Feet have left a trail
A path I've come to chase
The distance that I tred
Behind seems an unfair race
Yet once and twice again
I fail to keep up pace
Is this the fate I bedded?
The choice is right nor wrong?
Sinking, my feet graze the core
Preluding a swanish song
In the wake of my good sense
I feel as I've had none
Rewriting logs that should have been
Yet all is said and done
A chance. I see. I jump.
I make the same mistake
I fall. I cry. I'm crawling.
Again. No sense I make.
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 9:46 AM UTC
The tree is not refreshed,
by a tyrant falling at the gallows.
No, the ground we tred is hallowed,
And defended by the imortally blessed.
Until we celebrate our victory, wading
Waste deep in crimson streams.
Listing right, the tree now leans.
Left to decay and slowly uproot,
Gravity bends and twists her low,
Disfigured and mangled,
Into freedom's final death salute.
A tribute to the desert ghosts,
Tis vanity in death they share.
And the merchants of repression
Who peddle their fancy wares.
No tree shall ever flourish her,
Beneath the broken bodies, and billboards,
That blight the sacred sands.
A backdrop for the death of democracy,
And cryptic Christian comedy.
Where the actors act,
And the players play,
The truth is altered fact.
The audience sees but doesn't look,
Except to look the other way.
And in the glare of the Draconian light,
The neo-imperial guards, uphold the word of the right,
And little is seen from the scene of the plight,
Because the fist that won't feed is the same fist night,
With its finger on the trigger and the world in its sight.
And our father's fathers will roll tonight,
As we march to battle under unraveling stars and stripes,
To illuminate our sins in a holy fire fight.
We are blinded by the glare of the Draconian light.
We come in peace to **** you,
To **** you and your land.
We come in the guise of democracy,
But it is malice for which we stand.
Such a devotion to arms, is an ode to the Prince,
Antiquated and malignant.
Condemn us all for the harm we cause through our complacence,
Craven and ignorant.
We are far, too far, to care in the least,
Too far for screams and cries to reach.
Out of mind, out of sight,
But the blood is on our hands tonight,
Translucent as it may be in the Draconian light.
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 4:11 PM UTC
This is the very second I could no longer stand the absence of you in front of me. I stretch my head over every fence because sometimes I see you and I laying on a blanket in the backyard we never had the chance to share. Hands in my pockets, adding every effort I can spare to keep my legs moving because It's not easy pretending that you weren't the only thing my legs moved for, that you weren't the only thing my hands came out of my pockets for. But my soles have tred and I have some strength left, so I'll keep going. Moving further away. Far enough that the thought of you will be almost impossible, and I'll make a friend, because it's not easy pretending that the further I go doesn't mean the further I'll walk back to you. Give me the night in which you're needing loved, I have a boat waiting for us at the dock, I'm going to be leaving alone. In three days time, I'll come to my Y and I'll go left and youll take my heart with you. Holding the perfection of the bottom of the ocean, I heard I'd be crushed if I made it that deep, but it's perfection, and I'm all out. I dove and sure enough I am crushed but i saw the ocean floor, I saw perfection, I wanted to grab it, kiss it, and hold it all at once. I wanted it to always be so, where could I go?.. I'd walk out this door and head south until I saw trails of you on the roadway. Something that tells me you've been there. I can remember every square foot you stood inside of and at a point you hung a smile from your jaw line and I put down a towel to soak up the plethora of me you'd leave melted along the sidelines of these sidewalks, filling every crack, because I can't handle seeing anything broken anymore. Ask me why I've been walking a rope around these Hills, because I'd love to tell you how I'd drag them to you. Wonder why I've been walking straight with my head down, because I've been dying to tell you that I'm ashamed of myself without you. I want you to need to know why I have been holding my breath, because I've been telling the world how I've been hoping you'd come and take it away again.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 7:39 AM UTC
This pain is not of Cupid born
nor borne on winds of nights repose,
tis more the ache of being torn
from your sweet lips at evenings close.
This pain in not of teenage crush
more so of one whom knows in truth,
that so much said within the hush
and love with time will offer proof.
This pain is not of heartache shed
nor is it by your parting torn,
for this is but the path we tred
as we part ways each given morn.
So till tonight I'll bid my leave
and wear your heart upon my sleeve.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 10:01 PM UTC
Close your eyes for the moment.
Seeing clouds billow in the Horizon.
Smokey skies surround the light emitting from the mouths of the creative.
Punished are those who dare to shine through.
Dreams are limited in discretion but plentiful in oppression.
Keep it up kids blow past the corners.
Line up with the narrow road to the kingdom of the new world.
Tred slowly for they have not gained the momentum to catch you.
Whilst convincing them of the future trying to convert the rebels.
Conformists calculate, delegate and deliberate but none can Contaminate.
Get angry at the light hearted thoughts of going home.
Highten senses cause for unbalance within the scale of followers.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 6:12 PM UTC
Beckham's kick and Lampard's head
A whole hour we had lead
Now terraced grief sits swathed in red
England's win, swiftly dead
The mourners gather hearts of lead
Hopes of glory now are fled
No more the hallowed turf to tred
Englands players - early bed
Apr 7, 2010
Apr 7, 2010 at 10:58 AM UTC
I run in circles making sense of us.
But I still don't get it, and it's only making me hate you.
It's not your fault that I still think about you every night,
or that the smell in the air makes me want to point out constellations
with you.
And spend all day in your bed watching bad tv.
But really, the rain is to blame.
Because every time it falls I think of the day you walked away and how,
I couldn't cry until it stopped.
Like I was waiting my turn.
And by the way, I actually quite liked seeing you in my dreams.
At least then I was seeing you.
And honestly, I'm really sorry
that when you believed in me the most,
I just didn't know what to say.
So I lied until we stopped talking,
Like a get out of jail free card, except now,
You probably hate me.
While I'm here confessing, you should know,
You never meant a **** thing.
Not even a little.
And you never will.
I-was-using-you and you-were-a-mistake.
I heard somewhere "the truth will set you free,"
At least, that's what you taught me.
But I never believed in you because,
You always hated me.
And I hate the way you talk about me when you think I'm not around.
Yea, you're not fooling anyone.
Still, I love the way you say you love me,
Like I'm the best thing since getting high.
Because I could float around on your words all day.
But sometimes I think, we're getting closer to a problem,
Than we are to the solution.
And that chills me all the way into my marrow.
Also, baby, you should know, I love your arms around me and,
the way you make me feel like I'm the sun.
But I hate the way you lie,
and need, and sometimes disappear.
And I could never ever love you quite enough.
So please don't try and make me.
By the way, I think you're wonderful.
But sometimes I get scared that you don't love me anymore.
Because you're tired and I've been hanging on for far too long,
You can't drown with me anymore.
I guess, it's time to swim.
Or at the very least, tred water.
Have I mentioned yet that you're my hero?
I really wish I could be more like you.
But the thing is, I always thought I was.
And hearing what you really thought about me
broke my heart.
Maybe someday, I'll learn how to try harder.
Or care.
Before I go I need to clarify, I hate you just as much as
I love you.
But the love is the only part that will go on forever.
And I know,
The feeling is mutual.
Feb 3, 2011
Feb 3, 2011 at 11:10 AM UTC
I tred a path too few have trod
I walk a narrow way, most favor the broad
What I do brings no fortune or fame
sometimes it brings a smile, oft only shame
Occasionally a friend will walk along with me
but rarely enough do they see what I see
So on this long road, I oft feel alone
I stop and think, and then I groan
for I tred a path too few have trod
I walk a narrow way, most favor the broad.
May 26, 2010
May 26, 2010 at 4:48 PM UTC
...or leave me in your wake.
You never believed me when I told you
I was not some do-it-yourself, weekend project;
these holes are beyond your repair
and you simply have to live with them.
But you thought you could fix me.
You have wasted your staples and plaster
and spread paint over casts
that never even fit.
The dust of the drywall has settled
in the hollow of my throat
and choked out my laughter,
and I am simply tired.
These halls were meant to be tred lightly.
I tried to warn you, but you,
thinking yourself experienced,
announced your arrival with loud steps
and by swinging wide the windows,
and proceeding to tear out the frames
so you could make them anew.
So if you cannot learn to tiptoe,
I will have to draw the shutters
and remember how to lock the door at night.
Those old muscles will ache
but it won't be hard to relearn.
For I am Misery's daughter,
and you thought you could fix me.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 10:38 PM UTC
I cast my eyes, and no matter where
they fall or rise, I know You are there
You fill spaces vast,
here and in the past
All unfilled days ahead, You're in my heart and head,
when I lay down in bed, and everywhere I tred
Though I cannot see, it gives me esprit,
to know who's by me created earth and sea
I am filled with hopeful wishes
as I look at all You made,
from the sky down to the fishes,
You are my everlasting shade
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 10:06 PM UTC
"He who doubts his own will, shall be ****** not to infinite pain, but to a lifetime of discomfort, for it is not god who punishes man, but rather, it is man who punishes himself." -William McLaughlin
"Only when forgiveness rises from the ashes of judgement and persecution, does then a man rise worthy of humanity and wisdom." -William McLaughlin
"Faith in god can bring comfort to otherwise lost children, but faith in mankind can bring lost children home, for children are not born in the heavens...they are the sons and daughters of man." -William McLaughlin
"And Whereas those who tred on anothers faith deserve a guilt riddled conscience, those who advertise their own deserve a well rested mind." -William McLaughlin
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
Been too long since I have created,
Since i've drawn or wrote owt celebrated.
Having a breakdown to reality,
Working out how life is meant to be,
Unshakled mind but still not free,
I now make sense of the things I see.
Open mind does lead to free thought,
Free from the sick indoctrined fort.
Free thought leads to controversy,
When spoke folk try belittling me.
Words are the most dangerous tool,
To brainwash those who learn at school,
Make us obey each fascist rule.
Why can't we all open our eyes
To all the enslavement and lies?
Why get angry at those awake,
Who care for you for goodness sake.
Instead of cussing those in power,
You insult those while in moods sour.
Laughing, oppressing piece of mind,
With tyrannical words far from kind.
Outrage seething from closed brains,
Not folks faulght, we have been trained.
To regurgitate the lie and do not think,
And let them mould our mind to shrink.
Dissmiss the real with a curse and wink,
Is this what you really want in life?
To let greed and hate and fear run rife?
To stop humans thinking for self,
To keep the slave masters in wealth,
Staying downtrod for there good health?
All roads lead to Rome it's said,
And we're walking roads that they tred.
His story not history,
No truth wrote, why can't you see?
No Darwinism or big bang
No cells turned fish who did evolve
No axles for us to spin,
The puzzles there for us to solve
We can't let the demons win.
Kate Longshaw
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 4:59 PM UTC
Speak of a person, like no other in existence. By blood is all I see
This will never be perfect, than I will hold you to.
What whispers in the dark, you speak of? Turn what I, inside am onto you
What more will you say now?
Finally draw me in your depths of what this is?
Slapped on label "love." Might you tred safely of the long term side effects? I recommend it, if your stuck with me
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 1:07 AM UTC