"unashamed" poems
I hope my good old ******* holds out
60 years it's been mostly OK
Tho in Bolivia a fissure operation
survived the altiplano hospital--
a little blood, no polyps, occasionally
a small hemorrhoid
active, eager, receptive to phallus
coke bottle, candle, carrot
banana & fingers -
Now AIDS makes it shy, but still
eager to serve -
out with the dumps, in with the condom'd
******** friend -
still rubbery muscular,
unashamed wide open for joy
But another 20 years who knows,
old folks got troubles everywhere -
necks, prostates, stomachs, joints--
Hope the old hole stays young
till death, relax
March 15, 1986, 1:00 PM
8.1k
You Sir, Are An Electrician!
**technocrat
— noun
a proponent, adherent, or supporter of technocracy.**
This city boy was expert at
Turning the lights on,
Unlocking the front door,
Putting new batteries in flashlights,
And calling the handyman to
"Please come upstairs"
When the degree of diving difficulty was a
Positive number.
Also,
Freezing the semi-permanently the DVR,
Triggering alarms,
Killing car batteries,
Making laptops question
Human sanity,
Tearing up when reading,
"Some Assembly Required!"
Raised in a city of experts,
He was unskilled in things electric,
Becoming apoplectic,
When a device had an
On/off switch that ignored him.
Somewhat famous he was,
For engaging the inanimate,
In a verbal dialectic,
Which included words highly phonetic,
But unsuitable for children's ears.
She was raised in rural pastures,
Corn fields used for hide n' go seek,
Riding goats after school
Just for fun,
Familiar with innards of
Deus ex machina, a/k/a
Minor engine repairs, and
Doing what he called,
Making reparations.
IOS7, heaven.
Cabling laptop to external devices,
Icing on the cake,
Dis and reassembling a German coffee maker,
Did not require calling an 800 number.
She never read an instruction sheet
Without pleasurable laughing at
Japanese English.
He was unashamed of his skilled
Unskilled characteristics,
For such is the way of the world
In the human kingdom,
Some of us two handed,
some of us, bi-standers.
But upon occasion,
He would bemoan his fate,
Decry his inability to survive
On a post-apocalyptic Earth,
Like the people on tv and movies.
Periodically he would grow morose,
Listless, at his inability to adapt to a
Point Oh world.
Uncomprehending
Icons and symbols whose meaning
Were wholly unintuitive,
He secretly ashamed of his need for
technological ******
She would sense his frustration,
Wipe away his inner condensation,
Climbing into his lap,
Whispering the following:
**You sir, are an electrician
of words, a verbal technocrat,**
Plumber of the depths where
Few fear to tread, explorer of the head,
Restorer of human paintings unmatched,
Without your ilk,
this world would be unbearable,
Your heart's warming silk
Comforts bodies and souls,
Speaking from experience personal.
Then, she flicked his
On/Off switch,
On.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC
one more for Joni and the one who accuses me of
"owning the courage to care so blatantly."
<:>
accused of writing with blatant courage,
a 4 credit requirement for caring
blatant is a word of merger -
open obvious unsubtle and unashamed
and a dissembling misleading one!
it is all of these and yet can be a contradictory mask of
opposing, differing faces
my blatant is none of these
but appearance only
**** muses keep me coming back
to a particular lyric,
keeps seeking me out, so successfully, wherever I go,
I hear it
it’s invading my both sides now
the dizzy dancing way you feel
you think I have my own blatant courage, untrue!
so oft you mistook my dizzy dancing,
all fluff all humbug so obvious so ashamed,
a cover up, a most subtle cosmetic pretense of the truth -
of
no courage at all
and yet (they mock)
you do care...
just another of my peculiar
life’s illusions
(self-delusions)
I really don’t have blatant courage at all
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 9:18 AM UTC
A job well done. Unashamed to sign your name to whatever work you do,knowing that even the smallest chore is an offering to God.
This is what I believe.
A song well sung
A verse well written.
These are pleasures to my soul.
A sunset so awesome that you have to stop what you are doing..and stare as you say thank you Lord for letting me be a witness.
A storm with all its glory..soaking the Earth.
A moon so clear and full that it illuminates the darkness.
These are reminders from God that I am not alone.
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 12:35 AM UTC
Wide eyes plead, tell me you love me,
Little hands held out,
Can you show me the way?
Before the serpent whispers,
Before hands and words can distort,
Fully dependent, an unbroken dreamer, A heart wide open.
Little heart full of love,
Little mind,unashamed.
I wish you could stay, little one.
To never know life's sting,
Never know how much it hurts.
Will you find the Sun, in this dark, cold place?
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
*Didn't it sound a lot like something
He said a long time ago?
Now it makes sense
Dripping from honey lips*
I lowered the box into the ground
Empty but only I knew as much
Nothing to see, nothing to touch
My own heart was buried deeper down
Looking up I saw you shed a tear
For all I was laying to rest
Was to you a memory blessed
A short respite, the re-emergence of fear
Or maybe I had it wrong
You could have known all along
I could have been the one deceived
Or maybe I only thought you believed
Step back
She sings the Mantra
Let her finish
Before we continue
*Hare Krishna ¥ Hare Krishna
Krishna Krishna ¥ Rama Rama
Hare Rama ¥ Hare Rama
Rama Rama ¥ Krishna Krishna*
I could tell you reasons for what I've done
Before the passion flamed
I dreamed her naked, unashamed
Innocent as the day was young
I thought it was love that drove me on
Even when the snake bared it's fangs
Injected it's venom of change
Convinced my compassion was strong
Now I know that it can't be forgiven
The arrows pierce you from behind
Weaker still your weakened mind
And contaminate your imagination
Stole a page from God's playbook
I'm sorry, my old friend, that you fell
But I have ****** myself to hell
Just one page was all it took
*this end is for me even more than it is for you
the fog in the forest is still sickly thick
and you can't see the forest for the trees
I dragged it out for too long
but I know your ignorance is blissful and I don't blame you
I'd do the same thing if I were in your shoes*
It was my own guilt that stopped me cold
Made me think twice of what I'd done
I know you'd just soon it go on and on
(And on and on)
But seeing you so often demeaned is getting so very old
•••••••••••••
Cry when you hear the song
Crying is often the best thing to do
Break down for an hour, in the back of your mind
Know it gets better when the grieving is through
Don't take anything she said for granted
She felt she had good advice
But you gotta let it work
Learn how to pray
Build a fortress around your mind
Evict the rogue voices
*"This is rebirth
The hardest word
Held under water
This is death
I'm out of breath
Held under water"
- Dustin Carpenter
"Held Under Water"
(big sleep., 1988)*
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 12:54 AM UTC
I’m not lucky, I’m blessed.
I don’t know about you.
Don’t call me lucky,
call me blessed. There’s
a difference between the two.
Luck comes around from
time to time.
Blessings are there every day.
They’re staring you right
in the face.
Luck is something people
seek to find.
Blessings automatically
come your way.
Luck is something that
happens by chance.
Blessings are God’s works.
They’re a part of his plan.
Blessings are things that you
carry with you. They’re there
every single day.
Lucky is something that comes
along, but then it goes away.
Blessings are things that
are permanent.
Luck is something that
is temporary.
Blessings are things which
are heaven sent.
Luck you can’t count
on. Luck you can’t depend on.
Unlike blessings, which you
know they will always be
there. You never need worry.
Luck is something you anticipate,
something which you wait for it
to come around.
Blessings are things that are
automatically there. Every day
of your life they can be found.
Luck is basically good fortune
that happens from time to time.
Blessings are things you are
faced with every day. You
carry them with you for
a lifetime.
Luck is something you consider
to be good that happens
unexpectedly. It may come
around at a time of need.
But what you consider to be
good luck, events can happen
to cause you to see it is just
opposite. It may turn out to
be that what you find to be
good luck, isn’t always what
it seems.
Blessings are that which is
sent from God. They are not
disguised.
Blessings are brought to the
light where you clearly seem them.
They do not hide.
Blessings that are sent from
God, they do not lie.
Blessings are something you
can believe, something you
can have confidence in.
You carry them with you
from the moment your life
starts, up until your life on
earth comes to an end.
You shall carry them with you
even after death, should you
make it to heaven.
I’m not lucky, I’m blessed.
There’s as difference between
the two.
I don’t consider myself lucky.
I consider myself blessed.
I can only speak for myself.
I can’t speak for you.
I’m not lucky, I’m blessed.
That’s all I have to say.
Don’t call me lucky, call
me blessed. God is the way.
It’s not luck but God, who
wakes me every day.
It isn’t luck but God, who
gives me eyes to see the way.
It isn’t luck but God, who
gives me a voice and mouth
so that I may talk.
It isn’t luck but God, who
gave me legs and feet so that
I may walk.
It isn’t luck but God, who
gave me hands so that I
may touch.
It isn’t luck but God,
who does so much.
It isn’t luck but God, who
gives me everything I need.
It isn’t luck, it’s God.
I say it unashamed.
I say it proudly.
It isn’t luck, it’s God,
who gave me a brain for
thinking.
It wasn’t luck, it was God,
who gave me a heart which
keeps me breathing, keeps
me living.
I’m not lucky, I’m blessed,
in so many ways.
Don’t call me lucky,
call me blessed.
That’s all I have to say.
I’ll leave you with that
thought and I’ll go about
my way.
Aug 1, 2020
Aug 1, 2020 at 1:10 AM UTC
I sit back on the computer,
Browsing through the pages of those I grew up with
Those people who thought they knew everything about me
I sit back and see what they’ve made of themselves
This girl is single, living alone with her four cats
This other girl now has two kids, unmarried and no degree
This girl is engaged to her high school sweetheart, yet they don’t look happy
This other couple broke up, wait they’re back together, nope spoke too soon
This guy is working at the local supermarket, never went to college after his arrest
This guy gained a few pounds, no longer the star athlete
This guy dropped off the map
See being the quiet girl, I learned secrets
I knew the deepest secrets of every single one of these people
Because while they sat in the back of the room chattering on about their so called problems
I was sitting in the front,
Listening
This girl had two boyfriends, and even more flings
This girl slept with four guys in one night
This girl’s boyfriend cheated on her, over and over again
This couple would sneak off in between classes, during lunch, or school assemblies
This guy was the trophy child, who gave away free drugs to his friends hidden inside pens
This guy was the quarterback; everything handed to him on a golden platter
This guy was the school stud who was hiding a relationship with his boyfriend by sleeping with every girl he could
Back then I listened because I wanted to feel apart of something bigger
I wanted to be one of them,
I wanted to be invited to all those weekend bashes
I wanted to be the girl people felt awed by, inspired by, idolized
I wanted to be part of the “in” crowd
So I stood there, day after day
As they teased me
Berated me
Shattered my confidence
Tearing apart everything I was
Telling me I would never amount to anything
Telling me I was fat, ugly, stupid
That I unworthy of love
Telling me…
I
Was
Nothing
Let them tell me that today
I see everything of what they have become
Those people I wanted to be are no longer there
Their confidence shattered by reality
The best days of their life ended the day they left high school
Mine on the other hand are just beginning
I am the girl who is wanted
I’m the girl who can go wild
I’m the girl who can be passionate
I’m the girl who is adventurous
I’m the girl who brings pride
I’m the girl who is the athlete
I'm the girl who travels the world
I’m the girl who is unashamed of who I am
Because by pushing me out
My oppressors gave me everything I needed
The strength to try
The courage to dream
The ability to think
The confidence to be unique
Independence to thrive
But more than anything
My oppressors gave me desire
Desire to be more than they believed I could be
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
I did not intend this,
A lust for soft hands, lips like rose.
I woke with it already in my veins.
But my love is not my own; they stole my reigns.
After taking what was left of my voice.
It isn't my choice.
Slowly the fear of myself becomes too strong.
Lost in the rhythm of this sapphic song.
I was bred from the blood of a great poetess,
A Greek Goddess who loved both Zeus and Aphrodite ferocious.
Unashamed of the lust in her hips,
Born to a world who saw no difference.
Daughter of Sappho why do you cry?
Please don't lose your life to a lie.
You can do nothing wrong in love,
Pray that Aphrodite is generous from above.
May she show you that true love transcends gender.
Dare Cupid to prove the existence of such splendor.
May the Goddess in your bones,
Find refuge on the beaches of ******
The people who disagree fear your unknown,
They cannot comprehend the grandiose.
When they demonize you,
Remind them Lucifer was once angel too.
Be too large in love for them,
Do not succumb to their strange,
Better yet prove that you will not be condemned.
Be the catalyst of change.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 8:45 PM UTC
Shackled, and chained.
Yet,
I’ve never felt so free.
You’ve awakened this primal instinct in me.
Burned, and bruised.
Tormented, and used.
I'm yours to abuse.
I kneel,
At your feet,
Waiting for command.
Waiting for the slightest gesture granted from your hand.
I look down.
My hands in lap.
l am at your will,
Waiting for your finger’s snap.
With hair pulled back--
Gathered in your hands.
And cheeks warm--
Caressed by your voice.
Lips are wet--
Touched by yours.
Cleaning, and cooking.
Almost every day.
Folding, and preparing.
Doing whatever you say.
I'm yours;
I'm branded with your name.
I'm bonded to you,
No matter what,
And I stand unashamed.
Dec 5, 2019
Dec 5, 2019 at 11:44 AM UTC
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Bumming your fat knobs and insert your helmet naked and unashamed
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Kicking off kick-off, cyborgs brought face to face
Tartan sunstroke and may Mumbo Jumbo's **** all lie among you
Nine, eleven, seven, thirteen, six, quinquereme, ******** ********* Tweedledum and Tweedledee, unsocial person, erectoffensive!
This is Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
You've really ****** the naval officer
And the hatchet faces want to know whose blouses you abuse
Now it's time to evacuate the ******* if you have a free hand
This is Lance Corporal Tom to Masticated Ectoplasm
I'm fancy dress dancing through the cat—flap
And I'm groping inside a swollen grotesque sailor
And the plums look gigantically unusual nowadays
Ergo from Land's End to John o' Groats am I piddling in a crumpet slammer
Telescopic hindward the lump
Uranus Arsenic is scatological
And there's sweet **** all I can have ****** *********** with
With the proviso that I'm Ichabod celibate centipede sextillion heads
I'm fondling vigorously paparazzo
And I think my sputnik knows which direction to ****
Tell my ballbreaker I ****** her vigorously for England, she bonks
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Your menstrual cycle's kaput, there's oojakapivvygizmo spleen
Can you smell me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you get to the bottom of me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you delve into me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you...
From Land's End to John o' Groats am I vibrating ring my crumpet criminal lunatic asylum
Telescopic hindward the groupie
Uranus Arsenic is scatological
And there's sweet **** all I can have ****** *********** with
Mar 27, 2010
Mar 27, 2010 at 4:22 PM UTC
Hands tied
Blind folded
And in pain
He sat there
As she explained
Explained to him
The rules of the game
*“Every day I’ll cut off one of your fingers,
And you’ll count back
From one thousand by sevens.”*
Going through her drawer
Of clampers and tweezers and scissors
She said
“Now let us, rehearse?”
She took out one of her knives
And oh so calmly
Chopped off one of his fingers
Asked “What’s one thousand minus seven?”
He couldn’t hear her over his own scream
She asked again
“What’s one thousand minus seven?”
“Nine hundred…nine hundred and ninety three.”
*“Good! It isn’t that hard you see?
Now I’ll be back tomorrow
Oh, and this is just an experiment
In ten days, we’ll see what you become.”*
He sat there crying in agony
Wishing tomorrow never comes
But it did, and he counted
“Nine hundred eighty six.”
*“Do you know why I’m making you count?
It’s a trick.
I’ll tell you about it in the end.
Don’t bother trying to figure it out, you won’t.
So just keep counting till then.”*
Days went by
And he was counting
“Nine seventy nine.” “Nine seventy two.”
As he was screaming and shouting
He lost all hope of freedom
At “Nine sixty five.”
Now the only freedom for him, was to die.
After ten long days
He finally knew what it was about
At “Nine hundred and thirty.”
She finally let it out
Unashamed as she explained
*“You see?”
It was all just to keep you sane."*
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 8:39 AM UTC
by Wendell Berry
You will be walking some night
in the comfortable dark of your yard
and suddenly a great light will shine
round about you, and behind you
will be a wall you never saw before.
It will be clear to you suddenly
that you were about to escape,
and that you are guilty: you misread
the complex instructions, you are not
a member, you lost your card
or never had one. And you will know
that they have been there all along,
their eyes on your letters and books,
their hands in your pockets,
their ears wired to your bed.
Though you have done nothing shameful,
they will want you to be ashamed.
They will want you to kneel and weep
and say you should have been like them.
And once you say you are ashamed,
reading the page they hold out to you,
then such light as you have made
in your history will leave you.
They will no longer need to pursue you.
You will pursue them, begging forgiveness.
They will not forgive you.
There is no power against them.
It is only candor that is aloof from them,
only an inward clarity, unashamed,
that they cannot reach. Be ready.
When their light has picked you out
and their questions are asked, say to them:
"I am not ashamed." A sure horizon
will come around you. The heron will begin
his evening flight from the hilltop.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
Women are born with heavy feathered wings
Hands that hide starlit craters
Celestially they spin in infinity and find each other
Stroking the softness, in awe at the wonder of the unashamed mystique
That perpetuates newly hatched faces
A world without the incessant need for reassurance
Which towers intimidatingly over the forest border
Small ordinances that keep themselves airless
No longer striving for the greater force of flight
Clipping away their feathers with garden shears, hosing down the blood
Tuscan architecture abandoned countless ages ago
Ancient in idea and aesthetic
I’ve wandered many miles to reach such exotic visions that have been dead for so long
The heads of kings lined up on the edge of a waterfall
Their bodies still holding onto the swords they clipped their wings with long ago
A little further, a river emerges and spills cold water from the azimuth of God
There was a communicator present at the time of cleansing, unbeknownst to me
To accept ones sins is to be cleansed of them, don’t you agree?
He asked this with shaking shoulders, his robes unraveling to reveal the scars on his chest
One for each pectoralis
I looked away in tragedy
I enter the wooden gate, into the Macedonian fortresses of old
My torso has been replaced with a harp, which I feel these princes pluck so sensitively
I hear the timber echo throughout my chest and vibrate in my throat
My back has merged without consent to a beast that bends backwards
The harp strings have been torn
I am now mute
Raising the weary head of the sleeping dog and the sleeping disdain
I slept in an isolated piece of land untouched by human hands
And sank into the forest floor
In which the grass and all living creatures decided I had left the physical form
My eternal resting place
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 5:54 PM UTC
Transmute from lead to gold this crooked soul.
Memories of times old create the whole.
I am unashamed to stand before God.
My spirit naked, covered with dirt and sod.
You did this to me yet I rolled the dice.
Forgot to check the trap - my fatal vice.
Dabbled with the darkened void in your heart.
Should have known it was rotten from the start.
Betrayal makes for a more grounded man.
Locking his emotions into a sealed can.
So I raise my head in bold defiance.
And slay that "God" with cynical science.
© Copyright Mr. James P Machen 26/08/2014 for viewing only. May not be replicated.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 6:58 AM UTC
I gasp, for breath...fading away, below you
helpless, beneath the deluge, of you.
Heat rises, and steams, a rosy flush,
into pale, cold cheeks...
as you waterfall above me,
and I turn my face up to you, in gratitude.
I am a dry...arid flower...
dominate me, with your downpour.
Keep me moaning, in little, breathless gasps...
drunk, on your deluge,
lusting, for the gentle, seething weight,
of your measured, eager touch...
so thirsty, for your rain,
as you slick parted lips, in waves.
Slowly...almost painfully
I ache, and writhe
as you pour over me,
and I gulp, hard,
against your hot embrace.
Mmmmm...lover...caress my bare skin
stream, relentlessly
across the peaks, and valleys
of my dripping, naked body.
I'm so wet, beneath you.
Every dance of droplets,
across these spreading hips,
and long, feminine legs...
every prolonged, whispering touch...
every sweet, steaming kiss,
steals my breath away,
and leaves me shuddering,
quivering,
groaning, helplessly,
beneath the lick of your warmth
across these rounded, fleshy cheeks.
I die, a little more, each time
you wash over me,
As I drink you in
...unashamed of the little pool,
you've got forming beneath my bare feet,
and tightly curled toes.
I'm...drenched,
tingling, from my head,
to my toes...
soaked, but satisfied,
beneath the incredible force, of you.
...I just can't get enough, of you.
Apr 26, 2025
Apr 26, 2025 at 11:49 AM UTC
Do you remember that time of innocence?
When the horrors of the world were invisible,
and you were so much more than invincible?
Do you remember when you didn't doubt for a second that you were amazing?
When you wore those "crazy" things,
And sung at the top of your lungs, unashamed?
Do you remember when you raced outside at every opportunity?
When catching fireflies were the only thing you could think about in the summer,
Other than swimming in the open sea?
Do you remember when laughing came so easily?
When you didn't catch the naughty things in kids tv programs,
And when you had a million perfect life plans?
Do you remember when you woke up early, because you couldn't wait for the day?
When you spoke so fast, because there wasn't enough time,
And when you created a trillion random things, because you wanted to?
Do you remember dancing, or bobbing your head to some random tune in your head?
When you ran out into the rain, without shame,
And screamed until your lungs ached?
Do you remember when you learned everything, and wanted to still know more?
When you were so proud of getting one thing right,
And not caring if you weren't perfect?
Do you remember watching your older siblings, or grown-ups do things, that made you say "I can't wait until I grow up!"?
When you loved yourself, without a doubt,
And had the power to do anything, or be anyone?
I do.
And I wish I could have all of that innocence, and freedom back.
I wish that openness, and self-love had transferred into my more mature life.
I wish that nonchalant way of doing everything had stayed.
I wish that careless way of dancing and singing had tagged along.
I wish that I had stayed carefree for longer, instead of quickly becoming cynical, and depressed.
I wish that I had never pushed to be a part of the grown-up conversations.
I wish that I had never rushed into intimacy.
I wish that I had held onto my wildest dreams.
Because, now,
I regret every time I said
"I can't wait until I grow up!",
Because each time I said those words aloud,
Its pushed me further away from my imagination and wilderness faster, and harsher.
Because each time I said those words, and every single adult around me said that I should hold on to my childhood,
I replied with anger and irritation, not knowing the hell that I was rushing into.
I want to go back,
Don't you?
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 11:30 PM UTC
“Be Alive In Everything”
I had heard it before and for a moment in time
I had awaken and was alive
But when fear, adversity, uncertainty and sin left me stranded
I raised my protective shield and ran with the wind
My soul stirred, whispered, cried for release
I wanted tranquility, happiness and contentment
I hit my knees unashamed
Prayed for strength, guidance and humility
No longer to let life pass me by
I took a leap of faith
Acceptance and forgiveness paved my path
Unwavering love and perseverance carried me
God’s Beautiful Artistry
With blind and deaf awareness
Be Alive in Everything
Revel in life
Find the detail
Be precise
Touch Everything
Explore
Be Inquisitive
Touch it
Taste it
Smell it
Feel it
Record it with Clarity
Be Alive in Everything
Now Go Paint the Rain
May 21, 2010
May 21, 2010 at 7:50 AM UTC
And if the heart can break, it can also begin again, fragile and trembling, but unashamed of its beating.
Sep 21, 2025
Sep 21, 2025 at 11:37 AM UTC
Promise is the hue of dawn
nothing forgotten
nothing forgone
Unfootprinted sand unveiled—unashamed
dusk’s child born of nocturnal tide’s wane
Sunrisen
first breaths
from the
safe womb of pale moon
plucked from
paired lovebirds’ earliest tune
Yet no blossom takes bloom
knowing how sweet nectar
can turn
facing a blushing sun’s
heat.
Bound to a timeworn past— each day
born anew
Mother Night slips
soothing sighs
Soft breath of light
upon This--
and
all
morning dew.
Let smiles wedge between sleepy red cheeks
while sunlight braids between lullaby lashes
know that fire of life is unguarded to seize
or to fade,
longing in a Sun's jaded ashes.
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 8:46 AM UTC
Stark among the lush of youth
tall, unashamed
no leaves twirl downward
no fertile blanket of rot
to feed saplings
fresh with green sprigs.
Many seasons
they have tasted your sustenance.
Do they regard your wisdom
whispered in the mountain breeze?
Do they believe tales told of
life on the hill,
of cycles of torrents, droughts,
penetrating frosts and mountains
of drifted snow?
Do they devour the lore
falling among the leaves?
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
You are witnessing a prodigious talent and promise, and to a lesser extent but still to the degree whereby it should keep you awake at night writhing in cold sweats, your life, slip agonisingly through your open and clammy palms. Promise means so little if not actualised. You have been granted chance after warning after fortuitous escape yet have blithely spurned every omen and will one day fall, swiftly and perhaps terminally. You are almost certainly depressed. You say you love your girlfriend, and you mean it wholeheartedly when you do, but you worry that the relationship perpetuates as without her there would be no reason to rise with the sun. Even if the relationship is unstable, and at times verging on the unhealthy, you believe you love her but are too great a coward to consider decisive action if that belief is to reside or subside. Your friends range from kind and honest yet deeply flawed to somehow toeing an inextricably thin line between dependability and duplicitousness. Conversations with a certain few of your friends necessitate decrying every undercooked ethos you've every conned yourself into believing you hold (you could well be the most hypocritical liberal to walk the earth, for you are innately and irrepressibly selfish) yet you still nod placidly as your conscience squirms. Grotesquely, like a beaten spouse, you crave the gaze of those who have treated you with the most insulting derision, but are too proud (of what?) and, a running theme, too cowardly, to stoop to a simple detante. You must change, for it pains you on a most base level to have to accept the feeble, whimpering, simpering spectre you have become. You must be bold, brave, unashamed in your convictions, anything but pursed and silent lips. You have a voice, and you must now speak loud enough for them to hear, for that which has become blunted must be whetted, sharpened, readied for battle to be unsheathed at an utterance. Heed the signs and change, for our sake. You, a milksop who attentively notes the sophistry of courage, you can still be brave, and you must be.
For one day you will be swelled with a courage and fortitude to fill your sails taut, enough to leave this place, forget these people and bear you away.
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 8:08 PM UTC
Do we, as a people, deserve to be critised?
Have we as a nation become so desensitised
to the plight of those among us who are marginalised?
Do we care nothing for the less well off, the disenfranchised?
Rents and cost of living as high as we have ever known,
numbers on the breadline and homeless have consistently grown,
so many suicides because people feel so desperate and alone,
how can we stand by and let this happen to so many of our own?
So many families torn apart and utterly devastated,
Far too many of our young people reluctantly emigrated,
People losing their homes, heartbroken and humiliated,
There is not much about this country now to be celebrated!
It’s true that during the recession most people lost a lot
But was it the booming economy that really started the rot?
Did we start judging each other by how much each had got?
Was compassion for our fellow man something we forgot?
Though going through hard times we still give much to charity
many services only possible because people work voluntarily
but the government rub their hands together with unashamed glee
Are they right to think our actions absolve them of all responsibility?
Though all of us are struggling, each with so much on our plate
Should we not come together, do something before it is too late?
Surely the plight of these our people should prompt a national debate?
to ensure our government meets the needs of every last citizen of our state.
The frightening thing is, it could so easily be you or I
left unemployed or homeless, or barely scraping by
we cannot just dismiss it, the signs are all there
and if the present is anything to go by, will anybody care?
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 3:54 AM UTC