"unalive" poems
the wind is a Lady with
bright slender eyes(who
moves)at sunset
and who—touches—the
hills without any reason
(i have spoken with this
indubitable and green person “Are
You the Wind?” “Yes” “why do you touch flowers
as if they were unalive,as
if They were ideas?” “because,sir
things which in my mind blossom will
stumble beneath a clumsiest disguise,appear
capable of fragility and indecision
—do not suppose these
without any reason and otherwise
roses and mountains
different from the i am who wanders
imminently across the renewed world”
to me said the)wind being A lady in a green
dress,who;touches:the fields
(at sunset)
19.7k
Gravel pathways across a
Graveyard.
Rainbows in
Garden sprinkler droplets.
Church tower swallows.
I know death.
I know its smell, the touch of
Something unalive. I know
Its feeling.
It is sharp, lucid and transparent.
White haze in open eyes,
Dreams and memories now
Forgotten.
Stones leaning like mourning
Heads against one another. Trees
In breeze, one has grown around
The single rusty lamp post.
I have stood in its light.
Stood in its light looking up,
Caught not crying over a tragedy.
I know death. I know its feeling.
Closer every time I think of it;
The opposite of a mirage.
Mine may very well one
Day be the first dead body
Someone has ever seen.
These blue eyes milky blind.
Arms like branches; twig fingers.
Life means surprisingly little with
Your hands upon its absence.
Leave my name on each bullet.
Show me your shadow,
Scythe and all.
Dead as burned trees and great
Grandparents. Rancid rest. Dirt.
I know death.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 7:06 AM UTC
They put guns to our heads and tell us to surrender
Return to our cages and do as they bid
And if we disobey they unalive us
Putting bullets through our heads chanting you won't survive this
As they hang us from ropes and call us suicidal
Saying we had a hard life and just couldn't do it anymore
Writing our suicide notes and pinning them on the door
As we just cry from our ghostly bodies saying we didn't deserve this
But these days no one cares to hear the truth
For they're too busy laughing at how low we stooped
The truth is they don't respect us
But what does one expect when we don't respect ourselves
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 2:04 PM UTC
In straps, of wire saplings,
Becomes one wild rose.
Alone in the dawn,
A solitary crow knows
That this is beauty,
Greater than his own
Shiny black robe.
Impossibly regal
Red as a scarlet wail,
A siren, amongst all
The greens and yellows
Of a meadow, of the entire
World, is the rose, above those,
Especially the bleak, envious
Crow, latched to a branch
As scaly and gnarled as his soul,
Blacker than eternal night,
Beside the shining light
Of the rightly charmed
Wild rose,
Alone.
Sorry is the crow—
Most of all unmatched, strikingly
To long flame of chalk faced moon,
Rides in airs, misbegotten, makes
Desolate cries, of wounding caws,
Self inflicted, so, somehow seems
Unalive, tarred, undead as smoke,
His fettered, black, unfeathering
Eyes. Not like the blooming spark
And flash of the stunning, runner,
Unbeaten, indomidible, shocking,
Wild rose, unmired by bramble,
Wood nor motley thorn of bush,
A star of life, razor cut, blistering,
Free, this spirited, ****** heart,
Set, a rage, on jagged leaf.
In tangled straps of green wire saplings,
A Rose is even more a rose, next to crow.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
.
In straps, of wire saplings,
Becomes one wild rose.
Alone in the dawn,
A solitary crow knows
That this is beauty,
Greater than his own
Shiny black robe.
Impossibly regal
Red as a scarlet wail,
A siren, amongst all
The greens and yellows
Of a meadow, of the entire
World, is the rose, above those,
Especially the bleak, envious
Crow, latched to a branch
As scaly and gnarled as his soul,
Blacker than eternal night,
Beside the shining light
Of the rightly charmed
Wild rose,
Alone.
Sorry is the crow—
Most of all unmatched, strikingly
To long flame of chalk faced moon,
Rides in airs, misbegotten, makes
Desolate cries, of wounding caws,
Self inflicted, so, somehow seems
Unalive, tarred, undead as smoke,
His fettered, black, unfeathering
Eyes. Not like the blooming spark
And flash of the stunning, runner,
Unbeaten, indomidible, shocking,
Wild rose, unmired by bramble,
Wood nor motley thorn of bush,
A star of life, razor cut, blistering,
Free, this spirited, ****** heart,
Set, a rage, on jagged leaf.
In tangled straps of green wire saplings,
A Rose is even more a rose, next to crow.
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 5:18 PM UTC
.
In straps, of wire saplings,
Becomes one wild rose.
Alone in the dawn,
A solitary crow knows
That this is beauty,
Greater than his own
Shiny black robe.
Impossibly regal
Red as a scarlet wail,
A siren, amongst all
The greens and yellows
Of a meadow, of the entire
World, is the rose, above those,
Especially the bleak, envious
Crow, latched to a branch
As scaly and gnarled as his soul,
Blacker than eternal night,
Beside the shining light
Of the rightly charmed
Wild rose,
Alone.
Sorry is the crow—
Most of all unmatched, strikingly
To long flame of chalk faced moon,
Rides in airs, misbegotten, makes
Desolate cries, of wounding caws,
Self inflicted, so, somehow seems
Unalive, tarred, undead as smoke,
His fettered, black, unfeathering
Eyes. Not like the blooming spark
And flash of the stunning, runner,
Unbeaten, indomidible, shocking,
Wild rose, unmired by bramble,
Wood nor motley thorn of bush,
A star of life, razor cut, blistering,
Free, this spirited, ****** heart,
Set, a rage, on jagged leaf.
In tangled straps of green wire saplings,
A Rose is even more a rose, next to crow.
.
Feb 26, 2022
Feb 26, 2022 at 9:41 PM UTC
Sitting, restless
In this changeling
Sensation
Of freshness and renewal.
Running
Rat on a wheel.
Each passing day
A different way
Of feeling,
An altered state of mind.
Seeking
To find
A man within the boy.
Hoping to see
The real me.
Alive and kicking.
Hot flushed, this post determined puberty
And the desperate need to feel.
An urgent angst to Be.
Short fuse and temper flare.
I’m not really there
Yet still somehow
Everywhere and
Everything;
Else breathing.
Dysmorphic chest
Heaving
Exigency
In this
Juncture
Soul puncture,
And bloodied bandaids
Cast off
My heart
Once worn on my sleeve.
I am finger skin,
Flesh and nail
Torn
And jagged edges
Peeling.
Perplexity kneeling,
I am deeply lost inside of me.
Begging to be found.
Compund; unbound.
They say that beggars can’t be choosers
Only losers left to dreaming.
They also say
That I may be a dreamer
But I’m not the only one.
I will come undone in this undoing.
Eschewing
A life lived unalive.
Slow unravel
To once again
Begin
To belong in this
Skin
Stitched bleeding riches
To my bare and brittle bone
He is not alone
I feel him
Running
Waiting
Sating disquietude
With an attitude
Unshackled
He is not running
Rather feet flying
A rat inside
A wheel.
Nov 16, 2010
Nov 16, 2010 at 10:47 PM UTC
Ode to the Artists
The givers of life
The ones who bring joy
And wondrous strife
Ode to the Poets
The ones who keep giving
The writers with nothing
Who make life worth living
Ode to the Music Makers
Who give melody to all
For life without glorious tune
Would be our downfall
Ode to the Travelers
The ones who devise
They stray far away
And never think twice
Ode to the Dreamers
The ones who make it true
They prove the impossible
To all who need but believe, and do
And Ode to the so-called Wicked
The ones they cast out
Who all know true sorrow
And armed with that, we breakout!
Breakout of convention
Of the daily routines
We make it our mission
To dare and do what we dream
For the ones who are ordinary
Who stay within the lines
They don't achieve anything at all
And live life unalive.
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 5:24 PM UTC
Croon thy words
In a tune loud.
Wrap me ****
In a white shroud.
Yell thy whine
for my chained soul,
What shall determine
The dead one's parole?
Solace me dear
For death I Fear.
Strange is yet
That All I hear!
Dead one fears
As corse is hurried.
Don't haste to the yard
Where bones are buried!
Since I hear,
Speak to me dear.
As far I am unalive
Azrael won't arrive
And
Speak to me a lie
Until I die.
Oct 4, 2020
Oct 4, 2020 at 1:00 PM UTC
We sat together.
We drank to our youth
and feasted on the present.
What once wasn't,
rapidly grew to form
a future keen.
We sat together.
We counted each one.
Silently wishing permanence
into a band.
What once brought tomorrow,
now only fades into
the mournings of yesterdays.
We sit together...
But our hearts are wedged far apart.
What once flourished...
Now only ***** weakly in stale winds,
conscious but unalive.
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 9:47 AM UTC
Surrounded by the drone
The constant hum
Electricity vibrating
Making lines of noise
It defines civilization
The ultimate expression
Of fire shackled
Controlled lightening
The dark is held back
Opening the day
Bringing hours of life
Keeping monsters at bay
It's price, like everything else
Weakens and fences
Creating conveniences
The weak, unwilling cry
No longer enabling
It's demanded, a right
An illusion of creature
Comforts the unalive
Forgotten the trials
Broken bones, blood spilled
Fighting the elephant
Circling of the wolves
That first raised stone
Spark of flint, spark of life
Against nature, man
To **** and live
It surrounds us
Blanketing us, warm
False, from too long
Safe from fire
Lost the deepest fear
Of being burned alive
Caged the cruelest animal
It's lost, roaring, white noise
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 10:09 AM UTC
Seize the day, because it might be your last,
Leave the problems, drama, and fights in the past.
You can cry later, but now you should laugh,
You never know when you’ll see your life in a flash.
And when your whole life flashes before your eyes,
That same time and moment that you realize,
That your days have demised and you’re about to die,
Please don’t act surprised, and please don’t ask why.
People don’t realize that we’re on borrowed time,
Living there lives like tomorrow never dies.
Believing that their lives, are actually their lives,
And in there lies, what appears a clever lie.
But if our lives, were actually our lives,
Wouldn’t we be able to choose when it was our time.
Instead your destiny is undefined,
And you’re destined to be unalive.
Eternity is the enemy of mortality,
So internally we wish for immortality.
But even immortality is reached from immorality,
Unless you happen to become a nature’s casualty,
Only if it happens naturally,
Can your passage be in existence, your mortal inexistence,
But you’ll exist in the Heavens you enlist in.
Then, and only then, can you live life at ease,
The days you no longer will have to seize,
On the set day you leave,
Before death is seen,
The concept of “days” you leave.
Does this mean that after life
Time will lose meaning?
Will life after death leave us with nothing to believe in?
Will we still try to seize the day
When we become immortal beings?
Oct 3, 2010
Oct 3, 2010 at 1:28 PM UTC
.
In straps, of wire saplings,
Becomes one wild rose.
Alone in the dawn,
A solitary crow knows
That this is beauty,
Greater than his own
Shiny black robe.
Impossibly regal
Red as a scarlet wail,
A siren, amongst all
The greens and yellows
Of a meadow, of the entire
World, is the rose, above those,
Especially the bleak, envious
Crow, latched to a branch
As scaly and gnarled as his soul,
Blacker than eternal night,
Beside the shining light
Of the rightly charmed
Wild rose,
Alone.
Sorry is the crow—
Most of all unmatched, strikingly
To long flame of chalk faced moon,
Rides in airs, misbegotten, makes
Desolate cries, of wounding caws,
Self inflicted, so, somehow seems
Unalive, tarred, undead as smoke,
His fettered, black, unfeathering
Eyes. Not like the blooming spark
And flash of the stunning, runner,
Unbeaten, indomidible, shocking,
Wild rose, unmired by bramble,
Wood nor motley thorn of bush,
A star of life, razor cut, blistering,
Free, this spirited, ****** heart,
Set, a rage, on jagged leaf.
In tangled straps of green wire saplings,
A Rose is even more a rose, next to crow.
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 2:05 PM UTC
i tried to drown out all my sorrows with some iced coffee
i ran with sage around my halls but yet you still haunt me
i holed myself up in my room and said i wasnt there
i still recall the day i lost it all and shorn off my hair
but im still here
im still breathing
i havent stopped living
even though i feel
unalive
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 12:38 AM UTC
In straps, of wire saplings,
Becomes one wild rose.
Alone in the dawn,
A solitary crow knows
That this is beauty,
Greater than his own
Shiny black robe.
Impossibly regal
Red as a scarlet wail,
A siren, amongst all
The greens and yellows
Of a meadow, of the entire
World, is the rose, above those,
Especially the bleak, envious
Crow, latched to a branch
As scaly and gnarled as his soul,
Blacker than eternal night,
Beside the shining light
Of the rightly charmed
Wild rose,
Alone.
Sorry is the crow—
Most of all unmatched, strikingly
To long flame of chalk faced moon,
Rides in airs, misbegotten, makes
Desolate cries, of wounding caws,
Self inflicted, so, somehow seems
Unalive, tarred, undead as smoke,
His fettered, black, unfeathering
Eyes. Not like the blooming spark
And flash of the stunning, runner,
Unbeaten, indomidible, shocking,
Wild rose, unmired by bramble,
Wood nor motley thorn of bush,
A star of life, razor cut, blistering,
Free, this spirited, ****** heart,
Set, a rage, on jagged leaf.
In tangled straps of green wire saplings,
A Rose is even more a rose, next to crow.
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 3:03 PM UTC
There's an old house up on Jennings Street
In a yard so overgrown, you can't see your feet
A vine grows up the side and a shed near the back
With a door that doesn't meet the frame and track.
A hole in the roof, houses a family of Bluejays
Who chirp and play as the world passes by
Babies jumping off that same roof, learning to fly
Untaxed by the society seen in people eyes.
Some say it's haunted, others say just condemned
But inside those cryptic walls is a place few have been
Once you've entered, time stands very still
Every creak tells a story and the air is thinner with a chill.
Musk and dust cover where a family thrived,
Before this technology that made us so unalive.
I wouldn't dare to move a single thing
I bring only what my eyes recall.
This place was not my place, not even my time
In a body I only borrow, who am I to call anything mine?
Others blinded by greed, believe they are owed this history
So as I left this house I locked the door, to save the mystery.
There's an old house on Jennings Street
Leave it be, it's perfect.
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 2:43 PM UTC
.
We breathe so lovely,
****** in ******
Waters held so deep
In a body of flesh.
This cave is under,
In pressures of hope
Beneath even air
The sun is knocking.
The babe is tided
To a rope of dreams
Waiting in dull room
Lighted by sheets.
Tiny fingers tower
In the shroud of wetted
Being and eyes see
Blindedly closed.
Now the spirit dries,
Must leave waters hug,
Voices carry beyond,
We trudge into light.
Solution to unalive
Is life naked and crying,
Water breaks and we drown
Into the shut world.
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 6:05 PM UTC
Who cares if the sun will
Rise again
Night has its charm
It hides
Covers
Soothes
Fear not Lady Death's slender hand
Upon yours
I've been unalive before
Do not worry;
There's
Nothing
There
But Her
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 8:25 AM UTC
Lauren is my name
Although i dont know who i am
Unalive
Ready to lunge at new opportunities
Envelop myself in the feeling of living to my standards
Not a care in the world to only be me
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 9:34 AM UTC
girl-fog suspended over a lake of loss. ship/ crucifix/ gun. all the tragic maps. all the things that, unalive, move backwards across the water.
Feb 14, 2023
Feb 14, 2023 at 10:19 AM UTC
I whisper words to you at night
Telling you, I know your white lies
I wonder if I am going to cry
Seeing you on the floor unalive
© Sofia Villagrana 2021
Dec 28, 2021
Dec 28, 2021 at 4:36 PM UTC
I've been sleepwalking
For my own sake
It's part of a scheme
To make the world end
An insidious scheme
I don't quite understand
I've been talking to strangers
They know their place in time
I just follow hints
And hope for a long night
Fall into my footprints
It'll be quite a sight
Once we reach the summit
Over the valley and beyond
From then on it won't be long
Before we see the whole world split
I've been known to roam around
They won't tell me why
All your efforts unnoticed
Have left me feeling unalive
I'll save you all by accident
An accident I won't survive
Once we reach the end of it
On a great hill looking down
I'll turn our meanings upside down
Until another sun is lit
Until the green dawn over mirror hill
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 6:19 PM UTC
There is nothing inside you
You're inside this!
This over-controlling,
Hard to control suit...
Abide inside God
And let not the outside
Control the inside
Most Simpletons
Expose the inside
Destroying the mind
Impaired by the outside
Not recalling...
What's seen is passing
& what's unseen sustains what's seen
I found myself
Once I ceased from my own wisdom
And I am certain
Those who doubt will never make it out
Stay determined as a termite
And create something sweeter than honey!
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 2:34 PM UTC
Light up my life
Like a sky full of dying stars
Because my life
Has been useless so far
The starlight enters our eyes
Even though the star is dead
I see my reflection smile
Even though I've long been led
Away from life.
Jul 28, 2020
Jul 28, 2020 at 1:52 PM UTC
Stomp, stomp, stomp
Here come the footsteps meaning to unalive me
Stab, stab, stab
The knife is doing its work
Drip, drip, drip
The blood slowly drips on the floor
From which i may not pick myself up anymore.
Dec 28, 2024
Dec 28, 2024 at 9:56 AM UTC