"unbalanced" poems
Anxiety
Controlling my everyday life
Anxiety
Taking my heart and throwing it against the wall
Anxiety
Wrapping around in my head to consume my thoughts
Anxiety
Crying and screaming against my throat
Anxiety
Crashing and thrashing its way into my body making me shudder
When theres a knock at the door
Anxiety
Lighting fires to my insides
Anxiety
Making my hands shake so someone will notice im unbalanced
Anxiety
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 11:09 PM UTC
My heart
Is a happy drunk
A little too open
A little too optimistic
It's over in the corner of the bar
Playing poker
Screaming at the top of it's lungs
I'M ALL IN
When it's never
To this day
Had a winning hand
My heart
Is a sad drunk
A little too lonely
A little too caught up in tears
It's over at the counter
Forcing the bartender to take its keys
Because it would rather not go home
Than go home alone again
My heart
Is a reckless drunk
A little too unbalanced
A little too impaired
It's over by the door
Making everyone nervous
A little too good at scaring people away
A little too far gone
Like you
A little too far gone
Turn your head
Shuffle away and pretend you don't notice
The breakdown of a heart
Too drunk on feelings
To know when to stop
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 8:10 PM UTC
Summer scents and summer heat
Teenagers' laughter and water flying
Dripping heads and shoeless feet
Trees wear flowers and the sun is shining
To him the day's grey and there's too much noise
Smothered in his black shirt he's ignored by other boys
Saved by the bell, he joins the row some teacher leads
While a group of pupils talks, two girls argue and one reads
At his usual seat he takes his usual things
Acting like he's writing while he's finishing some drawings
Yet his mind slips away to something near
Someone's stare makes his concentration disappear
Frustrated his eyes find her silent stare
When the teacher turns his back, she leaves her desk in one, two, three
Unbalanced he acts like he doesn't care
He could just pretend like he didn't see
Next to him she takes place
The seat astonished by the company
Her hands slowly reach his face
And before he knows his vision gets blurry
Still wondering what's going on, the poor boy has no clue
Until she whispers- with his glasses on:
Now I see the world like you.
Y.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 3:23 PM UTC
Remembrances of you remain
In the farthest reaches of my mind.
But I do not know why I cannot refrain,
The reason that you stay on my mind, I cannot find.
You're even in my subconscious...
At night, you cloud all of my dreams.
And I still find myself singing your songs while I'm conscious,
I am still not over you, it seems.
Somehow all I can hear is your voice,
When I hear a song you like on the radio.
You've taken up a greater part of my life than anyone has, without a choice,
An unbalanced ratio.
I will always love you,
Infinitely until I find one that can replace...
But you are you, and it still stands true,
That in a crowded room, I see no other face.
I hope you, without condition, love me,
As I have hurt you as well.
I hate to see you hurt, especially by the cause of me...
As I have always wished you well.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 9:32 PM UTC
This is the key to it.
This is the key to everything.
Preciously.
I am worse than the gamekeeper's children
picking for dust and bread.
Here I am drumming up perfume.
Let me go down on your carpet,
your straw mattress -- whatever's at hand
because the child in me is dying, dying.
It is not that I am cattle to be eaten.
It is not that I am some sort of street.
But your hands found me like an architect.
Jugful of milk! It was yours years ago
when I lived in the valley of my bones,
bones dumb in the swamp. Little playthings.
A xylophone maybe with skin
stretched over it awkwardly.
Only later did it become something real.
Later I measured my size against movie stars.
I didn't measure up. Something between
my shoulders was there. But never enough.
Sure, there was a meadow,
but no young men singing the truth.
Nothing to tell truth by.
Ignorant of men I lay next to my sisters
and rising out of the ashes I cried
my *** will be transfixed!
Now I am your mother, your daughter, your brand new thing -- a snail, a nest.
I am alive when your fingers are.
I wear silk -- the cover to uncover --
because silk is what I want you to think of.
But I dislike the cloth. It is too stern.
So tell me anything but track me like a climber
for here is the eye, here is the jewel,
here is the excitement the ****** learns.
I am unbalanced -- but I am not mad with snow.
I am mad the way young girls are mad,
with an offering, an offering...
I burn the way money burns.
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Concerned,
my wellbeing doesn’t come into it
neither does my wife’s;
but worried I am,
for my children’s future,
my children children’s future
and for my great, great grandchildren too.
I listen with horror,
I watch and shudder,
I read and feel misery;
when the wind blows,
because time enough at last,( or is it?),
I gaze at the old man in the cave,
with a little peace and quiet,
will it be shelter skelter?
Are we in quarantine?
Chosen?
For a new place, alas, Babylon
with perhaps Dr Strange Love?
Maybe there is no soul
within the man,
unless the balanced man became unbalanced,
what reason has a man got,
(even if he’s people are suffering from punishment),
To justify such actions?
Perhaps Pak Pong-ju is not a man,
Could he be God’s apprentice
God’s messenger
God’s terminator,
to emulate ***** and Gomorrah or Pompeii?
Why should we shoot the messenger?
If this is the case
then truly I should be concerned,
my wellbeing doesn’t come into it
neither does my wife’s;
but worried I am,
for my children’s future,
my children children’s future
and for my great, great grandchildren too.
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 4:51 PM UTC
I try to close my eyes
Because when they are open I tend to realize
things I hate to admit but that I despise
To me it is no surprise
to see the division on each side
Stereotypes are being idolized
Human beings are not being individualized
not being identified
Just stamp them with a number
222-33-4444
Send them to school to make them
Smarter
but dumber
to the reality
They take the unbalanced lead
of what stares at me
but moves passed me
I am followed by the past me
Inevitably,
we are
who we are destined to be
Because of what was taught to me
I have chains on my wrists
in this country
but they say I am free
while they distract me
subtract me
yes, me
but you too
Because we are one but we are two
Unity
You and me
me and you
Don't lose yourself
if you are lost, I am too
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 4:16 AM UTC
You don't seem to think with Reason;
root Chakra so loud and gratifying.
So very much louder,
and as if that makes it right,
and as if it makes up for
all that lack of self control:
You don't seem to think with Reason,
your root Chakra is your puppeteer.
Playing with Fire,
One gets ******* burnt.
What did you expect? Then again,
you don't seem to think with Reason.
Unbalanced Root Chakra;
so very loud and gratifying,
leaves you cracked and empty;
hollow. Wallowing. I know
this is hard to swallow,
but, do you follow?
You bring it on yourself!
You called it down, summoned it!
You played with Root Chakra Fire
and we're all still getting burnt.
You might have saved yourself,
but I am still enduring it;
Each time I think of Love,
Pain instead comes to Mind
because that is how those I have Loved have treated me.
"You're such a good person", they've said.
Hah! That's either ******** or just insincere,
'cause they've sure as **** shown me
what it is they thought I deserved:
Reap the words of one you've broken down.
Behold the Wrath you've ******* sewn about!
Dark Actions propagate dark Feelings;
Face the repercussions of your Actions:
This is a Reflection of you!
This is a Reflection of what you have done!
This is no appeal to Guilt;
for what good would that do?
--
I guess we must think differently, and that's fine.
I guess I am just so offended
'cause I hold *** with reverence;
To me, *** ******* means something,
and I thought of *** as an extension and expression of our Love and
not just another ******* Addiction.
Turns out it was just another ******* Addiction
and you got your ******* fix,
but where's mine?
You've become just another ******* Addiction
that I am now forced to quit
cold-turkey.
Just another addiction.
(I was) Just another addiction.
(You are) Just another addiction.
Just another ******* Addiction after all.
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 11:00 AM UTC
...
☔
"This is a big dream, it may eat you up."
I do not flinch in the face of chaos.
〰
(Forecasters)
I counted as seven gods
ascended the iodine skyline.
We all call them "misfortune in the flesh."
They waltz in pairs but the very last is a composer;
Seven deities promised the sun would catch scarlet fever.
We danced to the music to summon fate and disorder,
building a coffin in the middle of hungry waters,
The sun is our noble sacrifice in ruby robes;
So lets just hope the sea was starving for fire.
(Brew)
Metal ghosts slip among the sky
and lock like iron gates to form an army of grey.
The weight of sober clouds are intoxicated with turmoil,
Unbalanced weight, scales faltering, "no sudden moves please"
Obsidian giants collect the welkin until it boils over
the edges, the pillars, the cage
Why does the dark taste sweeter?
(Beautiful downfall)
The raindrops are ashamed
of the bitter liars we're all becoming;
We've succumbed to narcolepsy by the hand of water;
within the jaws of hurricanes we were consumed,
teeth formed by the angry fingers of the wind
thunder rejoicing as the land buckles down,
rain feasting on the earth in ecstasy
hail and rain are merciless foes
lightning still swinging,
morbidly screeching
chaotic smile,
a sword,
a single,
a cut.
Yes,
I am the one
(☔)
who fed the sky
my name.
...
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 3:30 PM UTC
It was as if her old shirt has tightened its grip unto her — slowly spreading crumbs of itch and scars from her last night's episode.
And sometimes, she would often wear her old clothes to feel its tightness and grip her unbalanced body, so she would look at herself and roll her eyes in disgust. And often, she would toss around her big shirts and compare the two, while her wounds slowly turning into scars, she would see to it and add another collection,
and she would call it a day. Eat a lot more than yesterday and hide in her memories, until someone finds her, but she's never found.
Sometimes, she will serenade someone but no one can hear her. Give some pieces of her and turn it into songs, but no one listens.
And she would call it a day, spend a lot more than yesterday, and hide in the present realm of her new found friend, her favorite scent from her old shirt.
Jan 5, 2022
Jan 5, 2022 at 1:56 PM UTC
What is artistic expression how do put my soul on a page
How do I stroke my aura’s color if I can’t see it
How do paint my humor and intentions
How do I draw my unbalanced chakras back to balanced and write the energies surging through channels
How do I chalk out my thought process when I am reminded of you
Walkie talkies hidden ontop my chalkie chakra blocked like telephone lines hit by drunk drivers or blackouts during storms
Sunshine burning mustard seething weekend breeding burnouts coming out of retirement like
My soul color bleeding rainbows with big blocks of grey in between Needing the contrast Needing the depth and blurred complications the world is not black and white we all bleed the same rainbow sparks into the same riverbeds breathing and exhaling with the time ticks of our existence of light reflected on the glitter trickled surface of the vibrations of our soul speaks ricocheting through galaxies for eternity.
Can’t phrase anything right
In come spiraling thoughts stories of me stories of we can’t help but trip I fall into thee mother Luna romanticizing the waves of the sea you rub my jaw with your hipster b
Crown king we’re being free
We’re trying queen
Forgot the beauty in the cold
Blackened hearts should walk boldly
Frozen on mountaintops trying to keep our souls warm
Broken and torn plastic bag in the wind escaping entities that block their flow
Exhausted on faking
Keep breaking from trying to make it
Ain’t no fun to be around
I keep all my words in my mouth
The devils got my tongue
I’m feeling numb
All my existence is to ***
I can’t get up out of the ******* ground
Years go by
I’m not feeling myself
Tears come out of me like a leaking spout
No drugs can bother me
My head belongs in the clouds
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 4:28 PM UTC
There are coffee stains on my notebook.
soft brown plots colonize the corners,
Smearing the ink into almost unreadable scratches.
I love my daily coffee so much that I let it ruin my note book.
And like my morning coffee you have become a staple in my life.
A part of my routine,
Coffee, class, and then you.
And I do not write love poems.
The words never fit into my mouth right,
talking about love always felt like tossing marbles in my mouth,
blurry and unbalanced.
They never came out how I wanted.
But for you I'm willing to try,
I will fight my own tongue until I can tell you what I mean.
Until I can say that I haven't gone a day without coffee since the sixth grade,
and that the idea of going a day without you makes me sick.
Until you know that I will hold your hand like the handle of my favorite mug,
that I'll love any chip or crack you have.
And if you ever feel bitter,
Please know that I will be right here,
because I take my coffee black
And I'm not scared of being burned
But like my morning coffee you’ve started to leave stains on my sleeves,
my hands are tinted from all the times I’ve held yours,
and when I look down and see the small blotches,
I smile,
Because I think of you.
Jul 16, 2017
Jul 16, 2017 at 10:13 PM UTC
When Mr. Apollinax visited the United States
His laughter tinkled among the teacups.
I thought of Fragilion, that shy figure among the birch-trees,
And of Priapus in the shrubbery
Gaping at the lady in the swing.
In the palace of Mrs. Phlaccus, at Professor Channing-Cheetah’s
He laughed like an irresponsible foetus.
His laughter was submarine and profound
Like the old man of the sea’s
Hidden under coral islands
Where worried bodies of drowned men drift down in the green silence,
Dropping from fingers of surf.
I looked for the head of Mr. Apollinax rolling under a chair
Or grinning over a screen
With seaweed in its hair.
I heard the beat of centaur’s hoofs over the hard turf
As his dry and passionate talk devoured the afternoon.
“He is a charming man”—”But after all what did he mean?”—
“His pointed ears…. He must be unbalanced,”—
“There was something he said that I might have challenged.”
Of dowager Mrs. Phlaccus, and Professor and Mrs. Cheetah
I remember a slice of lemon, and a bitten macaroon.
3.5k
I look at my mother
my father
photos of grandparents
****** structures change
clothes
hair
but the eyes
are always the
same.
sad.
but strong.
it makes me think,
is my crave for the blade genetic?
is my darkening depression
running through my veins?
am I fated to be this way forever
by the DNA I've been given?
and if that is so
if all the bad in me is just
genetic makeup
is the good in me the same thing?
the kindness
friendliness
all just programmed
into my mind?
am I nothing more than
an unbalanced
unfortunate
bag of chemicals?
can we find the strength
to diminish the bad
part of human instinct
or were some of us born
to fight a never ending war
of self destruction?
do we even have a choice?
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 4:26 PM UTC
Clockwise against the blue light
Silhouette against a 70 mile speed limit
"I let the music take over my soul, body, and mind."
It looks like an ant with wings
Hitchiking it's final ride
Counter Clockwise against the blue light
It takes off and lands again
The wheel shakes as my unbalanced tires reach 75
I turn the volume **** two notches up
Clockwise against the blue light
"The stress burns my brain,
like acid raindrops."
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 7:26 AM UTC
The glass of wine spins on sins
Encircling the royal roulette
All rotating on a hamster wheel
Pinned on canvas and illusional walls
So tiny in errors and unbalanced books
Unaccounted annotated distributions
Twisting hands on colluded coils
Deeper projections from the heart
An eruption of the social notions
Extracted on the paradise of life
For no truth echoes authenticity
Eccentrically finding a lived reality
Plato symposiums and simulacrums
Pavlov trails of social conditioning
Sampled in tented objectifications
Functioning within the invisible rules
We sniffle as we expose the false actuality
Reactive explosions from robust heat
Unloaded rods dancing under the moon
In our tenderness rejecting the paradigm
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC
Oh how I earnestly await for thee to awaken from thy slumber.
The time that passes is far from squandered. It bestows upon me, favored opportunity to admire thy beauty.
Desiring not to be selfish. Alas, I cannot help this. Somehow, some way, I need to emerge from it.
Just a glance not even a stare and I am vexed beyond repair.
Do I even seek such hellish things?
To be repaired, would be an unjust, merciless act. Knowing what I did not have, now I possess.
Who in their proper mind would relinquish such a gift?
You would be mad!
Without this Monarch, I would be unhinged, unbalanced, lifeless.
These are the things I ponder, while I wait patiently your end of slumber.
Call me mad, call me insane. For if she is mine and I hers.
Devotedly I Remain.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 8:35 AM UTC
Sad to say
Hope wasn't enough,
there was a thousand words battling in her mind
but her tongue remained numb
Deep into the late night hours
She hugs her pillows
and paint them wet
Realizing her existence in this world is inane and all her ways are complexed
Yet,
She was forged this way
An unbalanced scale of life
She was forced to stay
Agony of her loneliness brought penetrating pain
She cried even through the sunshine
Lived depressed during the rain
Whips from life's battles instilled on her frame
Perfectly tattooed on her skin
Innocence robbed from her before the age of ten
Those hands exploring her body never got approved
Scars and words of abuse was all she was accustomed to
From minds of the ones she loved
Grew extreme curious
Too see what lies inside of a woman for deliverance
Nights she cried tears that refuse to come
Glands denying the tears and sufferings that attempted to form
Rejected
The torture and sorrow in the glass of her reflection
Taught her venom which she perpetually spat at the girl in the mirror
Her thoughts was her MRSA, constantly eating her away
Rug burns implanted on her knees from all the nights that she prayed
Her life felt more painful than being engulfed into flames
Disgust boiled in the bottom of her stomach, just from hearing her name
No one understood her pain
No one even knew
Of all the dirt and infidelity her poor soul was drug through
Knives met her hands
Many nights she felt tempted but was too weak to stand
She'd rather fall
Full possession of her extremities but,
She rather crawl
into a deep dark cave
Than to reside in this World and become its slave
She was just a little girl
Dwelling in purity
A lost wandering soul
No form of security
For those who are believers and have even only a mustard seed of faith
Please
Pretty please
Remember her in your hearts
When you go to God and pray
Copy Right 2013
©Patty Ann
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 12:06 PM UTC
You talk about eggshells
I hear the crunch as I get closer to you
Thought it was glass breaking but it was too soft beneath my shoe
I can't stay out of your perimeter forever
When the diameter grows bigger and bigger
Pushing me farther away
I can still see soft silhouette
Your skin is so frail
Pale white made of the eggshells at your feet
You reach down time and again
When you're pierced by words
Cutting off oxygen
Penetrated by the carbon dioxide truth
You're not young anymore
Age is ageless numerals
You're not old
How many birds flew away from this pile of youth?
Each one once packaged like a gift
Leaving behind stacks of birth to sift through
You gathered them
Scattered them evenly around you
Put your appearance and self worth into them and
Waited for the crushing blow
Marching toward you from all sides
Your insecurities will swallow you and
The stomping will leave you angry and hollow
We are all hippy chickens
Making wishbones out of peace signs
Hoping for unity
Not realizing it's meant to be broken
A lopsided libra unbalanced
The powers that be
Expect you to follow obediently
Stand in line
You can't take just give
'Short people ain't got no reason to live'
Newman must have know
How difficult it is to create new men
One by one we attempt
To tip the scale in our favor
But the bigger Man
Can push it down with a finger
Like a toppling Pisa tower
A slow motion fall to the ground
A single direction agenda
The momentum gained
With each inch leaning
So stop clowning around
Sweep up your eggshells and
Go buy a dozen more grade A's and
Break them all at once
We don't have much time
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
I want to be the Ginger Rogers
to your Fred Astaire
the rocks of ice
in your Jameson glass,
I want to be the girl
you sing about
or the lit cigarette
your lipstick marks
Chanel rouge noir,
I want each embrace
you encounter
to touch me too
through the spaces,
I'd even be the words
in the book
you lift to read at night,
I just simply want to be
every single
missing piece
you've ever felt
or ever needed,
I want to be Cupid
stealing your heart
selfishly for
my own pleasure,
oh what toil and trouble
a girl unhinged
her unbalanced mind
bursting bubbles of blood
through her boiling passion
deep within the skin.
© Sia Jane
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 7:25 AM UTC
**** These...
... Liars And LIARS... !!!
Aren’t These Folks TIRED... ?!?
of ALL of Their Lies...
Deceit And YES Crimes... !!!
Cos’ It’s A CRIME To DENY...
The Truth From The Minds...
of Those Who SUPPORT...
What Comes From Their Jaws... !!!
These Days There’s A WAR...
On The TRUTH Now For Sure... !!!
From Rooms of BIG Boards...
To Those Filled With LORDS...
And This Year's ENSURED...
That Corona Has FORCED... !!!
MANY To... QUESTION... ?!?
If LIES Have Been Spreading...
MORE Than The Infection... !?!
And This... U.S. Election...
Has POOR Vote Collections... !!!
That Has Donald Trump...
And His People Flummoxed... ?!?
Because They’ve Been STUNNED...
By The Votes For... Biden... !!!
Having Claimed That He’d Won...
BEFORE... Postal Ballots...
Started To Cause DAMAGE...
To His Hopes To Inhabit...
The Whitehouse And Manage...
Like Some New Age Fascist... !!!
Or... Is THAT A LIE... ?!?
When He Could Be The Guy...
To Set The World Right... ?
And To Stop Paedophiles...
Who Are From Wealthy Tribes... !!!
Or... Is THAT FAKE News... ?
And Simply... UNTRUE... ?!?
Now I DON'T Have A Clue...
Unlike... Q'ANON Crews... !!!!
Whose Theories Are Deemed...
To Now Be... FALLACIES...
By These Media Teams...
Who Of Course NEVER LIE... !!!
Because Their Talk Is PURE...
And Don’t Meddle With Child... !?!
I Think There Are LIARS...
Whose Pants Are On FIRE...
Who... Should Be Retired... !!!
From Feeding Us News...
With Their Bias In View... !!!
As If It Is... " COOL "...
To Keep The Truth Skewed... !?!
When … Many of Them...
MAY BE Paedophiles Too... ?!?
When They’re In The Blend...
And Clearly Have Spent...
Time With Names … ALLEGED...
To Have Messed With Children... !!!
Something’s INCORRECT...
When Those That PRESENT...
Are QUICK To Suggest...
That They And Their Friends...
Are Cleaner Than Sheen... !!!
... NOT Charlie... !!!
... The CLEANER...
That Keeps Surfaces Clean... !!!
Well To Me Their Demeanour...
Needs A Bit More Inspection...
Just Like This Election...
of... TWENTY TWENTY... !!!
Where It Seems That...
... Court Scenes...
Will Define Who Will Be...
In The Presidents Seat...
America’s Shrouded...
In Much That Is Clouded...
And May Well Reveal...
A World of FALLACIES... !!!
Where LIARS Are PLACED...
In A Place Where They Make...
Decisions For MASSES...
Where Lies Become Standard...
And Be Things That RAVAGE...
Through CORPORATE SAVAGE...
And Liars Who Package...
New Falsehoods To DAMAGE...
A Future Where Freedoms...
And Lives Keep COLLAPSING...
Because of These Leaders...
Who’ll Leave The Truth CRASHING... !!!
The Future Looks TRAGIC...
When Elections Cause PANIC... !!!
PROTESTS And … Madness...
That Leave Things Unbalanced... !!!
Where Newsrooms Conspire...
... To Be FALSIFIERS...
of What... SHOULD Be Desired...
Reports That Speak TRUTH...
Instead of... FAKE News... !!!
That Clearly Requires...
An ABUNDANCE of...
...... “ LIARS “...... !!!
Nov 17, 2020
Nov 17, 2020 at 1:33 AM UTC
I am what’s left of a dying breed that called life beautiful
Truly worth living and dying for
But it was your kind that fornicated, violated, and devastated the soul of a beautiful entity
Who gifted us with art, beauty, and taste for desire
Maybe it was her who corrupted us for loving us too much
Or was it our nature to have more than we are given?
Demanding more and more
Until we ****** the life out of the meaning, be grateful for what you have
I’m sick and nauseated by the false portrait of life
Sick and twisted figures painted with false smiles
True emotions hidden under heavy painted sunrises that tells a different story
Literally sweet and innocent characters erasing themselves from this reality
Just to escape the hardship of this imprisonment your people have created.
I can’t stand to see your kind preach to us, we do it for the art, for the beauty, and the taste
You cursed that meaning
You ripped the soul of a greatly spirit
You proudly preach a lecture of hypocrisy and false love
If you truly cared to love us
You’ll not be worshiped like a god
Deep down
Angels are dead
Demons are dead
The doctrine of the trinity
Is my doctrine of my divinity
I am the Father
I am the son
I am no holy ghost
I am a plague
Not from hell nor heaven, but a world that rejoiced beauty from an unbalanced reality
Of love and hate
I am not your God
I am not the Devil
Both are dead
No creator can save you
I am your deity
I am your life
I am your death
I am your escape
I am your only freedom
This profound meaning
Ascends through my heart & soul
The flower of life spreads through me
Like a wildfire
No angel or demon
Can’t stop me
Proclaim me as one in all
I am divinity!
You absorb the supplements of life
Resources are obliterated
Left & right
By tonight your life will be ended by the knife
I've awaken from an eternal slumber
Count down the numbers
You oppress Art
The beauty
You tainted the taste of absolute harmony
Your desire to have power
Has blinded you
You eat our flesh like starving vultures
You left us to be tortured
The rapture will soon be among us
Nature will take it places
To immaculate this famine land
Natural selection will have entirely new meaning
I’ll pick up where you left off
For now…
My sentiments for aesthetic judgment
Will run through every vein in your body
Clogging every end
Suffocating you in every way imaginable
The oceans will dry
This green sphere will rebuild itself
New seeds of life will cleanse
This heinous reality
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 11:57 AM UTC
A man once told me earnestly, I was dirt.
And my mind got all unbalanced with distraught.
What’s the worth of dirt?
It was not until lab nine that the comment touched my heart.
“Composting and Soil” hit an emotional spot.
I am dirt. I am the feminine form of Adam, Adamah.
Biblical Hebrew for “Ground” and “earth.”
The chosen medium of the Father’s formation.
Water, Sun and Air
Father, Son and Holy Spirit
Entering me daily to heal me, grow me, thrive
the seeds He is planting to reveal His vine.
In a very figurative and literal sense.
Daughter, wife and mother ground
Purposed for ***********
Saturated in Christ, piercing love and bearing children.
Teach the fruit only the Lord develops
Through Christ, soil once unworthy, is valuable
Such as man’s duty is to cultivate the earth
I am dirt, Cultivate me.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC