"truest" poems
when you understand my poems perfectly then,
their utility is inutile,
their usefulness is, will. always be, in the
nth
*reinterpretation, a million and still counting,
as long as you must guess at its labyrinth inner wired construct,
be pleasured by the roiled and rolled curves upon your tongue,
two lives (yours, mine), a paired wine tasting, we together,
believing in the greatness of joyous frustration
some say, as I do, the world is better for the
utility of thine own struggled understanding,
the truest combination of two way communication,
surpassed only by our at last armed embrace,*
when at last we understand our mutuality of need and salve...
May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 9:47 AM UTC
The truest bliss you impart upon me
sends a shiver down each column of my spine,
etching track marks over all my body,
a drug no-one can perfect or refine.
Your visage leaves lightning bolts on my eyes
and a heart palpitating in my chest.
Your body silhouetted in night skies
melts my deepest poetry to mere jest.
When we touch, it smashes my composure
into oblivion and far beyond.
When we lock eyes, I'm chilled from exposure
but for certain, only I feel this bond.
Although I strive for a day we would meet,
with the others, I could never compete.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 1:46 AM UTC
Even though humans struggle to live and darkness is easier memorized than light..
Moments of bliss and happiness are still likely to occur,
Perhaps not today perhaps it will take a longer time,
That is what I find very beautiful,
The love of life which rarely is set ablaze by events,
Rejoicing, in the truest bliss alike spiders in their tiny dance,
Forgetting the heavy rain and feeling alive on the highest level,
Even though, it is likely to fade as if it was dust carried away by a gentle breeze of the coming spring, far away till the horizon,
A moment of love can change a persons view of the world,
Motivate them to keep on fighting to experience the sheer amount of joy and happiness carried to them by the purest state of the mind,
Until all the shrapnel of their hearts rejoin and shine beyond the scene, with light coming from above the heavens, golden, free of sin,
And when the sunset ends these cheerful moments, their memories live on, reminding, recalling and pointing out to fight furthermore,
Even though humans stuggle to live wretchedly,
Living,
Is what I find very beautiful.
~ Umi
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 2:10 PM UTC
we all strive for perfection,
and to not have any flaws;
though I find that flaws
are perfection
in it's truest form.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
One flash, frozen in light,
The burning of her eyes
Fell my sprocketed night,
Deep in flames shudder,
All language, new, cipher,
Filmy frame, truest colours.
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 12:54 AM UTC
The artist must become a whole
Completely obsessed with their art
Obsessed with who they are
Truly, who they are
Without hesitation
Infatuated about how they create
The art that makes them be,
What it makes them live for
From how they take their coffee
To every moment of a good ****
Reading in peace at dawn,
Picking fruit from a grocery store
The truest of artists are always lost
Lost in their own mind
Unconcerned with the lashing of
Society's moral tongue
Pushing themselves out to sea
Creating only to be alive from within
Where it all counts,
And it all has some value
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 11:54 AM UTC
One flash, frozen in light,
The burning of her eyes
Fell my sprocketed night,
Deep in flames shudder,
All language, new, cipher,
Filmy frame, truest colours.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
The parasympathetic nervous system
is responsible for regulations
unconsciously transpiring
within the organs and
the glands of
the body.
Such as:
urination, salivation, digestion, defecation, and
lacrimation
(noun. ‘the flow of tears’. Latin.
from lacrimare (‘weep’) and lacrima (‘tear’).
It’s why I cry
even when I don’t want to.
You are the parasympathetic nervous system.
The (ortho-)sympathetic nervous system
is responsible for the mobilization
of the fight-or-flight response
and constantly maintaining
homeostasis within
the body.
It acts
rapidly, enacting an attempt at stability and
the necessary and critical ability
to suddenly escape
on pulsing legs or
cling to survival through
brandishing adrenaline-doused knuckles
and dilated pupils.
It’s why you live
even when you don’t want to.
I am the sympathetic nervous system.
The parasympathetic and sympathetic nervous systems
are two of three essential nervous systems which
compose the autonomic nervous system
(a part of the peripheral
nervous system)
that manages
involuntary
functions of the body. Such as:
swallowing, perspiration, arousal, breathing, and
heart rate
(noun. ‘the speed of the heartbeat’.
usually expressed in beats per minute. mine speeds up when I see you).
Individually these two systems oppose
but compliment
each other like our hands do—
pressed together and omitting equal force;
veins meeting
at the fingertips and throbbing at the wrists
but running amuck on our respective digits otherwise.
You are the invariable and unspoken reminder to
breath,
love,
sweat,
and live.
I am the sudden snap of reality always aiming to save you
but grudgingly willing to fight you and
ready
to
leave.
From the deepest lower half of my brainstem
and from every nerve
in my cycling body,
I’m sorry.
From all of my chromaffin cells
and from the truest parts of submandibular ganglian,
I am sorry.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
the rude gesture when one seeks the inelegant simplicity of
no words;
no words
suffice to say,
magnitude of some offenses requires physicality;
a physicality that injures nothing but the
surrounding atmosphere of
its pride
for it’s pride
that goeth before the fall,
the pursuit of dishonor and dishonoring,
given that,
it shames the giver as much if not more so
dishonor
for words are our truest masters
I'd rather you gave a round shout out of
**** you,
for as the parents say these days
use your words
rather than show me your
nail chewed runty midfielder
ah, words...I do so love them beasties
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 1:00 PM UTC
And I remember thinking—
I wish someone would look at me that way.
As if they had battled it for a lifetime,
Through seasons and snow and sun -
Across cities and oceans and mountains
In innocent youth and wearied age,
As if they had finally surrendered and had no choice but to look.
In the way it takes all a person’s will and strength to look away
And they have been worn down, beaten, bruised
To the point of weakness, of giving up.
And now, all they are left with is their truest self, exposed down to the bone
& no strength to battle the inevitable
Draw of their eyes to mine.
I want someone to look at me as if I am their lifeline,
And their death-bringer.
Jun 1, 2024
Jun 1, 2024 at 1:26 PM UTC
The fire in my heart never seems to dim
Nor does the sparkle in your eyes go away
Neither will its radiance ever find itself replaced
By the sunshine which finds my face each day
So soothing are my dreams of your caring heart
When you leave for work going away from me
Yet, your image completely floods my mind today
As your smiling face is the only thing I now see
I feel your heart's loves call as you think of me
As each moment passes I also dream of you
Because I feel it’s alive within each breath I take
While my heart slowly sings a love-song so true
And the truest treasure I have in my life
Can only be found alive each day in you,
As the most beautiful display of love in my day
Is found alive in everything you always do
And within my heart one will surely find
A soothing fire which never seems to die
For its always fed each moment which passes
By the alluring sparkle found in your eyes
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
True friends can help us seek inside our souls
For that which is true
Retrace our steps looking into burning coals
Of blazing fires, we left a smoldering
When life went all-askew
They help us see beyond our looking glass
Under places where we hide
Deep scars and wounds of days gone past
From all those bitter tears
That never dried
A true friend can help us see a side of us
We may not wish to see
While holding our hand in gentle trust
Even when
We don’t agree
The truest friend is the one who appears
To help put those fires out cold
Binds your wounds and dries your tears
While holding the hand
Of your soul
Oct 5, 2010
Oct 5, 2010 at 5:33 PM UTC
I love you.
I loved you then,
I love you now,
I'll forever love you.
I love you more than the light, I love you more than the dark.
I love you more than the silence, I love you more than any single sound.
I love what little I knew of you, as well as everything I didn't.
I love the night and the day I spent with you.
I love what I saw of you, but more everything I didn't have time to see.
I love your eyes, I love your hands, I love your flowing black hair, and those sweet lips, which were never mine.
I love your words, and the sound of your voice.
I love your smile, and the laughter it holds.
I love your beauty, and all that came with it.
I love your character,
I love your personality,
I love your life.
I love your life more than my own.
I only wish I could give mine for yours.
From: Me
To: You
I love you, Azami.
I love you now, and I always will.
Because the truest of love is eternal,
And although you will be still,
I'll continue, just as you will.
I love your heart,
And I love your soul.
And your dreams,
And each one of your goals.
I love what we once wished we could have been,
Just as much as I love what we are now.
I love what we soon will be,
It won't be long, just wait for me.
I love each second I thought of you,
And each one I hoped you thought of me.
I love you Azami.
Though this is not goodbye,
You will ascend up high.
And though I cannot go with you,
I'll hold your hand, all the way through.
You needn't worry what becomes of me,
For only shortly, you'll come to see.
I'll be everything you dreamed for you,
And everything you dreamed for me.
My new goals were then yours,
You left me all these open doors,
Through which I will go to you,
So please, just see it through.
The love that flew from me to you.
The love that grew from you to me.
I cannot wait until you see me,
I love you so much, Azami.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 6:16 AM UTC
The truest of hearts
never part
they only
get stronger
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
Before i met you i was in love with me
Im now left with a hatred towards her
Never would i think
We’d make it this far
Yet be so behind
Wasted time and wasted love
All i ever wanted was the truest form
I could care less for lust.
If i could go back in time
Do you know i would take your place
And if I ever lost you
did you know I'd meet you cause I couldn't stay
My body feels less than what is
No, it's not my anxiety it's my confidence
That has flown away.
I thought our love was that great.
And who’s to say it’s not
My love can cover a sea of hungry men
Yet only for you I’ve always kept it.
Because in the end i always meant it
Old fashioned is what they call my treasures yet the only true treasure i keep close is love.
Not a foreign bag
Just the truest form that'll last
It’s gone now I’m gone now- rebut
Dec 24, 2019
Dec 24, 2019 at 5:26 PM UTC
One flash, frozen in light,
The burning of her eyes
Fell my sprocketed night,
Deep in flames shudder,
All language, new, cipher,
Filmy frame, truest colours.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 3:47 PM UTC
Persephone,
Goddess of spring
Queen of the underworld
Bringer of death
And life anew
Bringer of light
Powerful and knowing
Darling maiden to ancient Queen
Truest display of duality
All that one can be
Magnificent in all she is
Of divine wonder
Mortals, how they marvel
At her strength and might
And her astounding grace
Upon the mortal world
Goddess of delicate care
Blessed is the fertility she bring
To a world when birds sing
Flowers to bloom, blossom
Into the beauty of spring
Bringer of plenty
Venerable one
Whom many hold high
The Great Goddess
Divine maiden
Hand in the land of the mortal
And the other far below
Decisions made, legends abound
Over sky, seas, and eager ground
Carrier of fertile seeds
To grow and for the world to know
Of her power and wonder
Thousands know her name
The Goddess Persephone
- Jay M
October 5th, 2021
Oct 5, 2021
Oct 5, 2021 at 12:16 PM UTC
One flash, frozen in light,
The burning of her eyes
Fell my sprocketed night,
Deep in flames shudder,
All language, new, cipher,
Filmy frame, truest colours.
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 1:53 PM UTC
No one else, but a poet...can bring colors
to scenes...with verses, in crass or subtle
tones......gather words together in lines,
uncertain in their ebbing and flowing...
the results create surprise in many
hues that could make one cry,
grimace......frown......or smile
readers are led to far, or near
destinations...to the cool, sweet air
and peaceful atmosphere of paradise,
or, to unlit corners...uncharted waters,
or deep into an abyss...or, a black hole,
an unknown corner, where moribund souls
are biding their time, maybe, they could
now define by themselves, purgatory and hell,
understand those sunken souls who have lost
all...except their arms, and begging eyes...
then, through appropriate words,
a poet paints a laborious path, or
a stairway...so an enlightened reader
may climb back to safe, calm waters...
a poet makes the mind see a human heart,
beating in many rhythms...throbbing,
.......aflame with longing and desire,
bursting from ecstatic, sublime moments,
then, later on, shift to grayish thoughts
that cut deep....tormenting...crashing,
............gnashing the heart...
a poet paints a soul walking on cloud nine,
later, to dip feet in celebrative pools.
sometimes, a poet would rather not, yet,
an inner force prevails, thereby paints a
drooping soul...dying, in total surrender,
ready to fall..............but, again, with a
barrel of lively-colored words, a poet
takes this despondent soul to berth,
with soothing verses, bring it to a rebirth...
every human being is worth an effort
..............even those that have fallen
.........................are worth savin' .....
a poet's palette is uniquely
enriched with colorful experiences,
a poet paints life in its truest colors,
..........could be dark...or bright
.....nothing more......nothing less...
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
January 29, 2017
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 6:13 AM UTC
Diminutive in frame and stature
defines him not, but instead enhances the
brilliance of his smile’s shine.
The golden flakes of honesty in his warm brown eyes
covey one vice that is captivation.
They hold hostage your most destructive thoughts
to instantaneously
replace them with the best; of
joy, contentment, and love-the best of him.
His high cheek bones define a mouth
so perfectly constructed.
They rise and fall like oceans’ waves with
every gentle gesture.
He thinks of love as a pool of chances
and illogically
he dives into the hurt he’s found himself in once
twice, no wait, three times.
But still, he never falters to give “chance”
just one more chance to prove he’s done what’s right.
Secondary comes his needs, in light of someone else’s.
The thoughts, “too tired” or “too busy” does nothing for him because
if someone needs help, you help them undoubtedly.
I have seen the coat that once
cascaded on his back give warmth to one
who had no coat
or smile
or joy
or light.
And for that one he lowered his head
to ask God for a favor.
I met this guy, this “perfect” guy when innocence consumed me
and since that day we’ve been each other’s confidant and comforter.
My love towards him supersedes that of a friend or
the best of that.
The truest thing I know is that when everyone one else
disappears to the mundane norms of life,
he will be there with me to cut through
the silence with rolls of laughter.
At what? It does not matter.
Because when I’m with him and he’s with me
there is a “we” that is formed and that “we” is captivates me
An infinite truth is that I will never stop
loving this young man.
He keeps my heartbeat steady so I
must exclaim the best of
joy, contentment, and love-the best of him.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 4:25 AM UTC
Snapshot memories of are past
having so much fun with the hope that it would last
To my best friend Nan,
a beacon of light to a hurting world in need of love
To the truest friend I ever had
those memories by the stonewall
Started playing together as friends
She had blue eyes & long blonde hair
I had brown eyes and brown hair
roller skating on the sidewalk with the attached rollers with a key
Went down by the brook to catch poly wags
we both went to the same school
Having sleep overs was a blast
a secret passage to get to her father's soda shop
Taking ice cream and delicious candy
everything nice and dandy with Nancy
Yours was are youth to be captured with a precious smile
Cape cod trips when Nan would drive
going to a trip to Provincetown
watching the folks dive for money
Big ships coming to dock
the men would get the money in their mouths
The island we used to go
in a row boat along the beach
Looking for young boys and we found them
went to dances at the Bristol Boys Club
Doing the latest dance craze the Huck Buck
Boys wearing pegged pants and girls wore skirts
To cherish those lasting memories of a time ago
getting married
Nan had three children
Ann had six
To raise and cherish the family united in love
Today we are in are eighties
both with medical issues
Yet remained best friend's after all these years
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 4:36 PM UTC
Werewolf stood in front of a puddle.
Four inches deep. Maybe.
Werewolf looked away.
Stickers. Graffiti.
Flem’s Revenge Live Tonight!
The Nifty Nymphos April 24th.
Ballz Deep featuring **** Matikz and Tremaine The Truest.
I’m a long way from Cologne, he thought.
Werewolf knelt towards the puddle.
The wet filth smelled of hot blood.
Exceptionally hot blood, rather.
He spat in the puddle and turned.
One thousand drunk humans.
Ten thousand more, asleep, above.
Not misunderstood.
Cursed.
It’s a very different sadness.
Alexander’s Feast ended.
Rounding out his latest playlist -
Bashfully Baroque.
Werewolf checked the time.
Less than an hour.
He buzzed a buzzer.
I’m here for the Devil’s Cherries.
The What?
The, ahem, Devil’s Cherries.
He’s cool. Let him in.
And just like that, he was let out.
A line was forming for Flem’s Revenge.
While a bright moon reflected in Werewolf’s puddle.
Werewolf shouldered through.
Cursed.
Clutching his score.
Apr 10, 2012
Apr 10, 2012 at 1:19 PM UTC
You were the stranger with which I fell in love;
You were the emptiness that became my own fulfillment;
You were the outline that absorbed every colour of the spectrum when you spoke to me;
You were the face of a man whose soul became my greatest fascination;
You were the new unexplored place which became my truest home;
You were the one I never knew, but I always loved.
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
If the "Twinflame", or what is better known as the "Soul Mate Theory" rings any truth,
then I believe I have felt this, even within my own disarray of natural human emotion and connections.
The "Love" emotion, in particular, defines the world "Soul Mate" to its truest definition, without question.
I'm a true believer that I have/had or maybe still will encounter this sort of spirit and that any lifetime spent with such a kind soul was a lifetime of riches and happiness beyond what anything mad-made could deliver.
I hope when we do find these people we let them them know and I hope they recognize this sort of bond as the most infinate form of respect and compliment.
I never imagined my story being a love story, but if I prove to be, not as smart as I feel, that is a flaw I would endure in every lifetime, just for the benifit of Love and Friendship.
When "THEY" say, you must love yourself, before you can love another, I like to quote Oscar Wilde, who said
"To love thyself is the beginning of a lifelong romance."
Take careful consideration to this.
When you get to know yourself
and I mean, REALLY get to know yourself.
You learn not only your darkest fears, but you learn your most powerful comforts.
You literally create a world that only exists from within.
You are learning and loving yourself into an "inner beauty" so fascinating that modern "entertainments" become nothing more than mere distraction.
You become your own best friend.
This is the goal and perhaps the key to life.
You can be homeless, unwanted, and completley alone in the world (or so it feels in dark hours) and still have a place to run to, when you close your eyes, you're already rich.
Now add another person.
Who can compete with yourself and know your every move.
Every thought.
Every intention.
Every guilty pleasure.
Imagine someone else, who knows you in such a way.
What a concept.
Its real. You just have to be patient. Take the time to love yourself.
I'm not there, but I have an adventure of a lifetime awaiting me. How could I ever fear life, when life can be so beautiful.
With this other person...you can see them, touch them.
Conversate with them.
Educate, learn and lean on them.
You will never find that, until you know what you are looking for.
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 1:23 PM UTC
Do not glance at the answers of your classmates.
I do not mean this in a strictly literal sense.
Do not glance at the answers of your classmates.
This is a reflection of Ego, the morality of a copier:
Seeking the easy way out; without personal gain.
Self-defeating in the truest sense of the term.
Those who concern themselves with the affairs of others
shall forever condemn themselves to a sort of cognitive hell.
Do not concern thyself with the lives of others;
you have thy own path to walk.
Those who seek overtly to alter the affairs of others
usually presume or at least condescend
and in the process of doing so
allow themselves to go astray.
Do not glance at the tests on your classmates desk;
what is worse: to know you are wrong, or to deny to yourself your ignorance?
Do not look unto others for answers for your problems
for they cannot know what battles you fight each day.
Look inwards for deeper understanding
for it is thy prism that is responsible for thy spectrum
which in turn is responsible for your perceptible reality.
The truest of teachers do not claim to be so,
the truest of scholars do not simply attend formal classes
the trust of sages claim not their wisdom,
the truest of wisdom seems paradoxical.
Look not unto thy peers for the standards to which to hold thyself.
If this seems to be selfish or self serving,
I wish to remind
Illusion is begun with "I"
and "I" is a temporary vessel.
Thy body knows thy path;
It is thy vessel; it has a compass.
Follow your passions while you still can.
Begin thy Magnum Opus.
Nothing else matters.
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 1:34 AM UTC