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Marco Buschini Dec 2016
Lie within chaos, and create comfort
In visions of endless love.
Riding slowly on the crest of a morning fling, and flutter,
The body stutters
Like a street dancer.
Shine in different directions
And end the yearning
For a love of creativity
By stripping off
And darting
Into a sea of uncertainty,
with a sense of
Unimaginable lust for what keeps you
Ticking like a sturdy clock.
Find the rhymes that combine
With what lies inside the mind,
To stumble upon the future pleasure,
That you unearth with delight,
As you wonder.
Inspiration is born out of desire.
Fuel to fire the birth of creation.
The mind quakes for a taste
Of the cake, that is blessed with greatness.
Qweyku Oct 2015
"Probably"*
          
             leaves open
                
     the door of uncertainty,
      
             Just enough for

the breeze of possibility


© Qwey.ku
breeze or draft which one's cool?
Zane Sep 2016
you boarded my ship when it was sinking so fast
i was so very certain you'd drown with it.
time passes
and i find my vessel mended more and more each day

i've been taught most of my life
to fear stability;
for it seemed as if instability, however dangerous
was more desirable that fleeting stability

but now that i find the earthquakes have begun
to decrease in intensity
ever so slowly

i am still left to ask
is this forever?
have i found that which i've been longing for ages to find?

it terrifies me so, but fills me with what i can only surmise is that which i dreamt about as a child

security. home. a chance at peace.

i wake from sleep, to remember dreams of our adventures
i wake from sleep, to be for, if only once, hopeful about the future
i wake from sleep, to know that i find solace in another
i wake from sleep, to that i am loved, as much as i love

i wake from sleep, to know that one day, when the storms have subsided, you will be there, holding my hand, as I walk up the final hill of my lifelong struggle.
ashw Nov 2015
I find myself on uncertain ground,
Straddling an impossible horizon.
On one side is day, where my consciousness thrives
On the other is night, where fatigue claims its prize.

For years, it seems, I have longed for sleep,
For a reprieve from wakefulness, and the sun’s piercing light,
But now, as I stand astride this unlikely fission,
I fear what awaits within night’s unyielding prison.

The darkness has beckoned, calling me forth
Even now, its sweet siren reigns down on my soul,
Oh, how easy, to just close my eyes and let my thoughts be consumed,
The promise of nothingness nearly impossible to refuse.

But my silhouette on the ground reminds me of light,
And I owe it to myself, past and future alike
To reconsider day and all it provides,
Before I make a choice, here, where two opposites collide.

I can remember hope, and the anticipation of greatness,
But also despair and nights spent alone.
Laughter and desire, pitted against resentment,
An ever-tipping balance between dissatisfaction and contentment.

No, it’s just not enough for me to fully commit,
I’d much prefer blackness and its long-awaited calm,
Yes...I will forget about day and its promise of grief,
Instead, I’ll take night and its selfless offer of relief.

Just one step forward and I'll be forever engulfed in silence,
But first I’ll rest here for just one second longer-
I need to say goodbye to day and pay respects to light,
Then I'll go forth, and forget this place where day leads unto night.
Maryan Abdi Feb 21
She don’t want love.
She don’t love no one but herself.
What about love?
What about lust do you trust yourself?
Do you think your worthy of love?
Are you certain that you are..?
Elemenohp Dec 2016
I shall grace the, with my misery.
Eluding certainty of attraction.
Stirring the ***, of everything sought,
After I poison myself in humilitys fashion.

I shall consume thy concoction;
Devouring all that delights,
Whilst keeping my soul
And my heart, out of sight.

I may claw at my throat,
From the poisonous notes.
Grasping for air, claiming life isn't fair,
To avoid the one certain truth,
I'm the only cause, of despair.
The water edge laps at my feet.
I cannot imagine the depth of its reach,
Nor can I fathom the whole body ****** out before the horizon.

There is something alluring about the freshness of it all.
Caress against my thighs, the wetness
Wrapping around my limbs.

Let me mingle,
With your murky waters...
May I touch your bed?
Coarse at first until I mold it into my desire.

The airy hole keeps me afloat.
Please be patient, for my lack of it is withholding me.
Benign ache lingers, that needs to dissolve...

Seeking only the shallow end for now, where the warmth can never leave.
I may drown if I go further...
A chance of worth do you see?
Any feedback about layout or general poetic insight will be appreciated!
Hannah Christina Jul 2018
why must time progress??
i need to take a rest
each falt'ring sentence brings
me closer to my death
maureen Mar 7
the weather confuses me

as so do you.
the way it's clear one moment
then clouded the next;
how uncertainty is thicker
than that of the brume.

constant rays of sunshine show up
from the irises of your eyes—
still, i stand my ground,
as slight drizzle falls
scattering down
from the fogged up skies.

hesitating to pour everything out.
Dennis Willis Oct 2018
I am
uncertain

as to your
intent

Is *******
appropriate?

Is "wrong" ringing
in your head?

Uncertain?

Let's dance
syllabic

Rat-a-tat-tat
I love a rat

R u
'ere?

I've this time
to squeeze

and I am
uncertain

I might
like this


spacing
signaling

gaps
nominal gasps

u looked
thanks ***

and I sat
down

to tell you
I am uncertain

about
being here

with you
alone

just finished
crying

O'er

things that seem
certain

I am uncertain



[email protected] Dennis Willis
riku Aug 17
Sometimes, you shine
So bright that I’m forced
To look away

But even so,
Should I still
Stay by your side?
Ananya Dubey Mar 19
I desire no more
to "hold on" or "hang on"
Because, what future holds in store
I have never known

The next day
might have a potential
of an endless river
seeming surreal

So, I climb on the bodies
of those who failed
to carve out...
and uncertain way.
Is this the end?
I know now that have nothing more to give or send.
My will seems that it will no longer bend.

Is this rainstorm finally done?
I think this is finally my turn for fun under the sun.
My hopes and dreams now broken,
awaiting to be redone.

Is this a new chance?
I hope I can keep on going in this never ending dance.
My sturdy mind is finally breaking it's stance.

Is this how I will be?
I don't know if I will ever be able to fully see.
My future is amidst a violent thundering sea.

Is this a chance for a new love?
I doubt it because of these thoughts from above.
My scars on my wrist in consequence of.

Is this my life?
I say thinking this as I reach for the knife.
My mind slowly being driven by truths and lies.

Is this my only question?
I wonder as I'm fueled by my depression.
My want to finally make this confession.

Is this my only fate ?
I only believe that I can sit and just wait.
My life is in a worsening state.

Is this what I need to do?
I am uncertain if this is how to start anew.
My uncertainty is something I need to plow through.

Is this counseling really working?
I have wishes that this is certain.
My new ways seem so supporting.

Is this what I want?
I have to try to be more celebrant.
My joys must act more so an antidepressant.

Is this right?
I cover my sorrows at the sight.
My friends try to act as some sort of light.

Is this the end?
I hope you will be my friend.
My heart doesn't want to just pretend.

So please...
Please be my friend...
I don't want to be alone as I finally comprehend...
All these questions that I always suspend....
Why not?
Antino Art Sep 2018
Who draws strength
from watching the passage of time
after dark
blur against the windows
of a moving train bound
for ends uncertain.

Who walks most balanced
on the beams of empty tracks.

In the shuffle of strangers
at a crosswalk, who finds
direction.

Who sees
clearer through rain.

Who finds their place
in the limbo of airport terminals,
on delayed flights
between chapters,
over open roads that branch
into tales of cities unseen,
in the turn of pages unwritten.

Who can keep track of time
during the improvised chaos of jazz,
catching notes scattered
in the winds of horns.

Who understands
that wind moves
fastest through dark places like tunnels,
during storms in late August.

Who finds their center
hurled in flight,
always coming and going.
Storm flight trains movement
Sam the lynx Jan 6
Swelling face, which sees no light,
endless pits, forever descendant.
Caught your knife, skin of thorn,
pierced by arrows, yet love’s lost.
Heart of a dying love.
bones Feb 2016
Hoards of leaves hurry to gather
at one worn headstone after another
like a funeral party uncertain whether
these are the dead who they grieve;

Time and wind tug at the memory
left in this absent minded cemetery
visited only by them and I
and those lying under the trees

with stories that no-one can read.
ryn Jan 2015
.
             *the *future is...a tornado of uncertain-
          ty• a swirling vortex, in its centre is
me•such power and speed, can ne-
ver see•can never foretell, it's hid-  
den debris•like clockwork, it will        
   make contact•by the second, bra-        
cing for next impact•the past is...      
  yet another•wild winds that echo      
     my mistakes as reminder•this twis-         
      ter within...tearing with no remo-    
           rse•destroying confident strong-
             holds, breaking feebly boarded
           doors•can't ease the rage...eat-
    en from the inside•won't stop
until...my beating heart had
        died•the present is...only this  
   frail little body•fighting huge 
battles that come incessantly  
  •fending off the future, con-        
    taining the past•not know-            
ing how long.......this disas-       
ter would last•but I'm still      
   here.....still holding integ-         
   rity......•still fighting this       
war waged in history's        
folly•will i be settl-
ed? will the winds
ever abate?•
will i ever
      come to    
terms...?
will i
ever
    acc-
          ept
                     fa      
                 t
               e
             ?
             •
Kevin J Taylor Nov 2016
Sin
I love thee not, Sweet Seraphim—
Thou aloof, aloft—apart from sin.
Nor love thee, Sweet, as does Our Shepherd
Love His flock— His love unfettered.
Nay, truth, My Love— I, as a Beast,
Upon thy lips and thighs, would feast—  
Thy musk! O musth! This night! Thy beauty!
Forsaking Heaven— Carnal duty!
I will not leave thee, Seraphim, uncertain
Thou hadst abandoned Him.
.
Musth: pronounced "must"— the frenzied ****** state of certain male animals.
.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle and in paperback. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry by common means.)
Spenser Bennett Mar 2016
Convince yourself of your certainties
But certainly they are uncertain
For the truth is hidden behind time's immovable curtain.
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