"twistedly" poems
Hormones raging...for what I'm told not to engage in, even if we're engaged, if it's not official than its still revealed as...fornication. There's a disturbing underestimation of the result given for this particular sinful demonstration, society has taught us that we test the car before we drive it, but the 1st issue with this analogy told is that we're comparing human sin to...driving a vehicle? But if we're going to establish analogies on this subject , then, well, why don’t we also consider these: do we begin eating Thanksgiving dinner before were done saying grace? Do they hand out diplomas and degrees for classes you haven't passed yet? Do they give Super Bowl trophies to teams expected to win? So how do we justify receiving the prize of an unmet process? Far too many have allowed marriage to become an afterthought or not even a passing idea our better judgment caught because man had rather receive a temporary pleasure that sin conceives birthed in disobedience, deceptive grip around your conscience until your choked by the demands of a lustful flesh that wants to be fed in continual expedience. Or...Maybe, I’m just being a hater, fighting not to be twistedly envious and curious of a world that I’m forbidden to embrace. Or Maybe I’m fighting...the temptation and frustration of being a single man patiently searching for that good thing and the favor my Father blesses along with her. Maybe I’m fighting...not to nosedive into the bottomless trap laid for human souls, lured in by lack, of self-control. It troubles me in just how simple... he brags and boasts then plots and plans his next victim in the desecration of his and her Creator’s Temple. But It’s not all his fault, because it was up to her to give him the key to this priceless location better known as her body.
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 12:59 PM UTC
Like eyes knew your mind was already at home within that lonely-love of yours.
Feeling distant frustrates the lost. The deep look for that girl that has a beautiful soul inside.
17 longer feeling years, tainted, waiting, deserves a cold man to be close to. One with a true heart.
Wishing on hopeless petals as an excuse to avoid the galaxies-worth of thought you contained in that bitter brain of yours.
Cold cheeks cried out for softly captivating lips.
Twistedly committed to searching through constellations, inviting those whose hearts were like a vortex.
To the point of disorientation, when all the constellations start to blur, creating disastrous patterns.
Fear, flawed lungs, struggling to breathe.
Cruel whispers to **** your hope of ever finding love.
Like looking past the light and into a mirror, you see him and suddenly you're not so broken anymore.
You awaken.
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 1:48 AM UTC
I love you so much.
More than the moon and stars.
I love you so much,
That I would lock myself away forever
If it meant you were finally given some type of peace.
I love you so much,
That I would anxiously give away
All the scars and memories I have
That I'm so twistedly proud of,
If it meant you could be happy.
I love you so much.
You are the air I need to breathe.
But I would gladly
Die of asphyxiation and oxygen deprivation
If it meant you were safe.
If it meant you could be okay.
I love you so, so, so much.
And I know it doesn't mean much,
But I am going to keep my promises,
Even if they're already broken.
I'm going to fix this, us.
I love you so much.
Though I understand if you don't believe me.
I mean, how could you believe that someone
Loves you
When all they seem to do is leave?
I want to tell you that I know that I wouldn't be able to believe that either.
But what you need to know is that I already don't.
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 8:12 PM UTC
One night I thought
About how simple the poems that I wrote
I rarely used difficult words and languages
Nor very deep phrases and sentences.
Then I realized that I was wrong in every way
For poems are complicated and never clear as the day
Poems are ideas that is hard to fathom
Feelings and emotions from the heart, from the very bottom.
It is the scribbles of the mind like an abstract art
The pouring of a broken and a beating heart
Poems are the mirrors of each and everyone's soul
So its form is always different, some whole and some with hole.
Idioms, metaphors or any style of writing
Isn't what make poems twistedly interesting
It is what the poet want to write about
Through the paper and ink 'til it finally runs out
Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 7:18 AM UTC
Come whisper in the listen I now long to hear you see
Of my odd interpretation of the lesson in this session
Surely spewing wicked somethings in disorder as it feeds
Agonizing ramblizing far too soon to fail to mention
Incorporating lonesomeness complexities in legions
Is there no unserpentizing the enlightening of strange?
Misuncircumstancing as the reader finds no reason
In such savory salivations of the misconcepted change
Unknowingly still growing far beyond the closest measure
Into raging inconsistencies that weep unto the page
Bleeding such intuitive progression never severed
In the ****** of youthful fluencies in such a weary age
The gladness of the madness strikes within the battered shore
Not but a hair above comparisons so folded in the fray
Enticing bold imperatives unsweetly through the outer core
In air of uninheritance that creeps the numb at play
Parading the tirading of such unsubstantial ecstasy
In such an unconventional impression of insane
Always sometimes never far within the tragic synergy
Of answers unbegotten for the rottening of sane
The murderous disorder in infectious undisease
As such sporadically chaotic posthypnotic juices flow
Now lost in such emphatically irrational absurdities
That pour out further twistedly insistent as I go
Shattering the view and boundary bordering abnormal
In this morsel of a mouthful seen before its time had come to go
Reaching destinations in displacement so unformal
In the storming of the forming verbalating undertow
Bringing order to the chaos of this psychopractic babble
In a lesson of the breaking of the rules amidst the flow
With intention of confusion that makes sense within the rattle
It is only when we break free that we find where we can go
In creative inspiration as this invitation I extend
To all who may so dare to violate the rules of play
Embracing utter lunacy in oddest infestation
As I show what can be done when mental limits melt away
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC
Your mind is beautiful
Twisted
But honest
And reluctantly romantic
But romantic
Nonetheless
All the more romantic
Because I can tell it pains you
To be so
But I can also tell
You will do all you can
To avoid paining me
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 4:09 AM UTC
I press my fingers to the ivory keys, pursing my lips tightly. I hear the sound of a B flat. Such a extraordinary sound. I continue, each random note I played, it felt as if my soul was starting to stir. My face relaxed with each tentative stroke of the keys. Release. Exhaling slowly as I make the notes into feeling. I wasn't merely playing an instrument. I was turning feelings of a deep, pensive, and long-lasting sadness into sound. Breathtakingly, devastating and remorseful, but beautiful sound. Every painful and heart ripping memory is flowing from my mind into my hands, pooling in my finger tips as I played. I did not stop, images flashed of my mothers face when she had told me my father was dead. I quickened the pace of my playing, Hoping they would leave as fast as
they came. Becoming lost, I smiled twistedly in insanity. My music became dark, the room around me was an eerie silence except for the song coming from the piano. This was my vita sonata. My life composition.
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 1:34 AM UTC
two more months, and it will be a year since you left.
and
i still have so many questions...
how come all i can write about is you
how come when it's late at night
and the dishes are *****
all i can think about is ball room dancing in the kitchen with you
and you laughing because i can't dance
for the life of me
and how come i still think of you ******* me against that cheap chinese made sink that always leaks
especially
in the heat of that one summer
with
your mom
in the other room
and how we tried to stay quiet
but
ended up breaking into fits of obnoxious laughter
i always did love your one dimple
and how it always came out at the worst possible times
but **** you and **** your family
and **** all the lions in Africa
i don't need you to rule this world
or regain my pride
you opened your arms to me
and got so use to holding me
tha you failed to realize that you started to hold me against my will
so
many nights
you drowned your common sense with that bottle of whiskey
and
so many nights you ate me like that birthday cake i made you
and so many nights you'd pin me down
and
**** me when
i was crying about my other ninety nine problems
and i trusted you
and
you ended up being the worst one
and you would just hold me there
suspended in time
as you
****** away the day
and
my life
.
you just wouldn't let me go home.
my mom was in the driveway waiting
for me
and
i was too busy crying to notice.
shaken up
and over the top
like a cold coca cola.
waiting
for you to give me the okay
to put on my clothes
and buckle my seat belt
and lick the sticky sweetness of you off my lips..
do you
remember that one hot humid summer
when you hydroplaned
and crashed your car into that ravine
and nearly killed me
and all you were worried
about was the police figuring out
you didn't have insurance
and that guy with that lifted ford pulled your car out of that ravine and you laughed
and
shrugged it off
and sped away
well
despite what we thought
i died in that ravine
that day
and sometimes i wonder if you ever visit my grave
or hold me high in your head
do you..?
i want to go back in time
before the days
when no meant yes
and
your hands didn't feel like sandpaper
i want to tell you before you ever set your sights on a girl like me
to cut your loses
and let your expectations
and
me
go.
i want to tell you all the things i hate about you
and that
i hate you for not letting me leave sooner.
and that i just
i hate you.
but
i
don't
in a twistedly
unexpected way
i think i forgave you a long time ago
but yet
i want to stab you in the throat and drink your blood like sweet wine..
so i can cherish
the ice that runs in your veins
and freezed
me over
all
those
frigid months ago
when no one bothered to save me.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 12:39 AM UTC
I can't help it
whenever I see photographs
I can't help but to say that they
would be better with you in them
your smile screams a hundred thousand sunsets and nights spent kissing somewhere
we shouldn't have been
there was something so twistedly romantic about hands touching among secrecy,
hearts racing that shouldn't be
I couldn't help but to love you
but I know
someday this will pass, too
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 12:33 AM UTC