"unflinchingly" poems
Humanity i love you
because you would rather black the boots of
success than enquire whose soul dangles from his
watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both
parties and because you
unflinchingly applaud all
songs containing the words country home and
mother when sung at the old howard
Humanity i love you because
when you’re hard up you pawn your
intelligence to buy a drink and when
you’re flush pride keeps
you from the pawn shop and
because you are continually committing
nuisances but more
especially in your own house
Humanity i love you because you
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
it’s there and sitting down
on it
and because you are
forever making poems in the lap
of death Humanity
i hate you
285.4k
When I was just a little girl,
And as little girls were taught then,
I played with dolls and a teaset,
Made mudcakes for food,
Wore skirts, made my hair into ponytails as I was let.
I saw the boys with the abandon which comes with free wear and play,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.
When I was older, a teen
and as teen girls were taught then,
Walk, talk, rock softly
Don’t draw too much attention
Or attempt to explore too much.
I saw the boys then with the abandon which comes with freedom to play, sit, be as they want ,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.
When I was sixteen, oh sweet sixteen,
And as sixteen year old girls were taught then,
Don’t wear clothes that show your frame,
That’s indecent and you will be in another home and will incur alot of blame.
Don’t wander, argue, or express an opinion,
You’re a girl, being humble, quiet and gentle becomes you.
I saw the boys then with the abandon which comes with freedom of movement and speech,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.
When I was older, and passionately sought a particular career,
I was admonished as many other girls in my time,
It’s not a career for women, late nights, more men to be around,
When you get married, that’s not going to work and troubles will abound.
I saw the boys then with the abandon which comes with the freedom of pursuing their dreams,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.
When I was married, and setting a home, working and raising a family,
I left my work as many other girls in my time,
For my husband to follow his work path,
Unquestioningly, unflinchingly, resolutely.
I saw the men then with the abandon which comes with freedom of being in control of their lives,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.
But this is just the surface of my questioning being a girl,
When boys and men around tried their stunts on girls and women,
I questioned my existence.
When many girls and women I know,
Were told to stay mum on men close who took advantage of them
I questioned my existence.
When In the workspace,
Women got paid less than men because their salary were subtly looked at as secondary salaries,
Or needed to speak louder to be heard,
I questioned my existence.
When the onus of keeping a relationship working was the woman’s responsibility largely,
I questioned my existence.
When a woman got hit by her spouse,
Its she who may have provoked him.
When a man strayed,
Its she who was not a good enough wife that he had to look elsewhere.
I questioned my existence.
The atrocities many men are capable of,
The filth many men spread,
**** hate, aggression, manipulation and more
Abuse, gaslighting inside closed doors,
Wearing a mask of sophistication outside
Animalistic and entitled beings to the core.
My apologies to men who are not,
And I know some,
But they are but a handful,
Too insignificant in the larger way the world works.
But then I see me,
A harbinger of change,
In my home and around.
Raising my son differently,
Advocating for change purposively,
Actioning resolutely what’s right,
Woman for women with all my might.
I see so many more women now who retain their selves and are beacons of hope,
They don’t sit around and just mope.
And I am glad I am a girl,
And I question no more,
I question no more.
Feb 16, 2020
Feb 16, 2020 at 4:28 AM UTC
Last Night;
I dreamt of children smoking cigarettes;
I dreamt of kids committing ****** arson, and human trafficking.
Last Night,
I dreamt of a hyperbolic ********** of Innocence
that our culture so unflinchingly asserts
from so ruthlessly young an Age.
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 2:39 PM UTC
Australia takes her pen in hand
To write a line to you,
To let you fellows understand
How proud we are of you.
From shearing shed and cattle run,
From Broome to Hobson's Bay,
Each native-born Australian son
Stands straighter up today.
The man who used to **** his drum",
On far-out Queensland runs
Is fighting side by side with some
Tasmanian farmer's sons.
The fisher-boys dropped sail and oar
To grimly stand the test,
Along that storm-swept Turkish shore,
With miners from the west.
The old state jealousies of yore
Are dead as Pharaoh's sow,
We're not State children any more —
We're all Australians now!
Our six-starred flag that used to fly
Half-shyly to the breeze,
Unknown where older nations ply
Their trade on foreign seas,
Flies out to meet the morning blue
With Vict'ry at the prow;
For that's the flag the Sydney flew,
The wide seas know it now!
The mettle that a race can show
Is proved with shot and steel,
And now we know what nations know
And feel what nations feel.
The honoured graves beneath the crest
Of Gaba Tepe hill
May hold our bravest and our best,
But we have brave men still.
With all our petty quarrels done,
Dissensions overthrown,
We have, through what you boys have done,
A history of our own.
Our old world diff'rences are dead,
Like weeds beneath the plough,
For English, Scotch, and Irish-bred,
They're all Australians now!
So now we'll toast the Third Brigade
That led Australia's van,
For never shall their glory fade
In minds Australian.
Fight on, fight on, unflinchingly,
Till right and justice reign.
Fight on, fight on, till Victory
Shall send you home again.
And with Australia's flag shall fly
A spray of wattle-bough
To symbolise our unity —
We're all Australians now.
3.5k
There's a time, somewhere between 12am and 6am,
When all artistic, damaged or insomniatic souls
Feel like they're completely alone
Even though we're all awake and feeling the same thing.
12am is still too loud, still too car engines and shouting,
And 6am is too light, too exposing and awake, aware.
It's blackness but for the starlight puncturing holes in the sky,
That's when the magic arises and enchants us.
The way the moon looks at us and begs us to untrouble our weary hearts,
So we do it, and we do it willingly.
She is the most unfaithful lover, and it is beautiful.
How she cherishes each whispered secret so deeply
That it leaves a crater on her being.
How she takes on our pain unflinchingly,
And only needs 28 days to feel whole again.
There's a time, somewhere between 12am and 6am,
When the most trapped souls can feel such freedom.
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 1:43 PM UTC
I love you the way the sun rises every day, without fail. I love you like the night loves the moonlight, covering the darkness with her glow. I love you the way the universe expands into infinity. I love you for each star in existence and that ever will exist. I love you like seeing a streaking comet that comes around earth once every 80,000 years. I love you the way the soil huddles and heaves in winter. I love you for every grain of sand, and I love you the way sand becomes glass, solid and liquid, when put to heat. I love you for the lovebirds in your eyes. I love you as silkworms spin fine reflective threads. I love you past galaxies and superclusters when seen at the speed of light. I love you at the speed of love. I love you with the wild abandon of migrating butterflies being taken by summer’s wind. I love you for each tear that’s ever washed your face. I love you for every smile anyone has had the fortune of witnessing. I love you like a sunset’s last rays of the day, turning everything pink and fiery. I love you as a boulevard winds between houses with closed blinds and closed minds but the road ahead is open. I love you as words meet paper and poetry is created. I love you for every ant that ever worked to make a home in dirt mazes. I love you like the snowflake, vast in number and each unique. I love you the way bullets explode from chambers stopping at nothing but nothing. I love you like jellyfish sting, unforgettably. I love you the way a lioness defends her cubs unflinchingly. I love you the way fog slinks in, engulfing and blinding and in love with the moonlight. I love you like time heading forward and backward and all that is is now. I love you for every ‘I love you’ ever spoken, written, and thought. I love you like sage growing in a sidewalk crack. I love you as hieroglyphs carved within Egypt's tombs, for the way glyphs of people all face towards goddesses and gods. Je t’aime, je t’aime, mon petit rouge.
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
The traffic grid operates smoothly and seriously
Forwards and back, in rows and columns
Directions painted in asphalt, and hung from poles
The road's instructions are obeyed unflinchingly
All these drivers are too serious to do otherwise
As they rush off to their serious lives
The doctors are serious
The lawyers are serious
The cleaners are serious
The gardeners are serious
It seems everyone is serious but me
In the park, reading Kerouac against a tree.
Jul 28, 2010
Jul 28, 2010 at 5:07 PM UTC
sixteen forever
craving nothing but
skin to skin
mind to mind
heart to heart
staring in your eyes
and seeing forever
seeing nothing but
the sun
craving everything you've never had before
and maybe will never have again
sixteen forever
tearing down your walls
burning all your bridges
and refusing to become what they want
nothing standing in your way
craving love and nothing more
no fear of the future
just fear of the night ending
because when you're sixteen forever
you feel infinity
and your heart smiles
through the tears
because nothing can stand in your way
nothing can hurt you for more than a moment
because you're brave and you're young
and you're free
close your eyes and remember
when you were sixteen forever
your heart is open
your eyes are wide
your light is blinding
and unstoppable
forever is real
forever is now
forever is in your reach
and you take it
unflinchingly
i want to be
sixteen forever.
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC
The wind blows a cool breeze speaking a language that I can only hope to understand
The sun shines through the barriers of leaves cascading down to hold me tightly, comfortably
The foliage steady underneath my unsteady feet promises to give me balance
The water buries the sand pulling it back into line always returning it safely home
A soft creature appears from behind the green wall crouching curiously in fear, denial
Unable to speak like the wind it simply blinks, both yellow eyes; once, twice, three times
The long fur covering it's body blows with the western breeze head tilted towards the east
It rises on two feet; remains stationary, despite the wind pushing it back
An array of colours catches light from the creature; yellow eyes, purple fur, black teeth
The deflection of colours creates a rainbow around the creature; a force field
It casts no shadow despite the downward sun trying its hardest to expose the creature
The array of colours surrounds the creature fading away with the sun behind the leaves.
The foliage struggles against its foot moving forward in a staggering motion as if they were glued
Fallen leaves crumble underneath its feet and flowers rot to a bruised purple
Like quicksand the ground tries to swallow the creature, hold it still despite its strength
Quicksand is not quick enough, the creature shuffles through the dying foliage
The water retreats, taking the sand with it, gathering as large an army as possible
The creature continues forward, the water continues back as far as it can before returning to shore
They meet in an unwelcome collision the water trying to push the creature back, unsuccessful
The creature emerges from the water droplets of water being repelled from its fur
The wind changes direction pointing at me whispering words of caution whispering, yelling
The sunlight illuminates me, sweat drips down my face like tears as if to say: hide
The ground shakes and trembles beneath my feet urging me to move, keep moving
The water reaches for me with open arms to hide in amongst the sand, to return safely
The creature spots me; staring unflinchingly, it stares back into my eyes with yellow ones
It's fur directing it towards me urges it onward dragging it alongside the cool breeze
It's feet start toward me slowly as the trembling ground regains its posture so does it
I stand in awe of this beautiful creature, so frightful so delicate aiming for me
"Humph" the sound of it colliding with me is carried away with the wind, long gone
The sun gleams off its black teeth blinding me before I feel it rip into my neck tearing flesh
The green, brown, purple ground lay stained with my blood dripping from its mouth
The incoming tide holds my hand one last time as the creature drags me back behind the green wall
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 8:18 AM UTC
let me tell you something about regret
let me tell you something about being saturated with your thoughts, about being completely above your thresh hold of absorption and trying to desperately figure out how you can get out of it
it's a delicate game between i hope he gets it and he never does, a fine line between texting him at 1am trying to apologize for what you've been doing wrong and realizing he's just a boy and he can't handle that
we cling unflinchingly to the memories of our past until eventually we are tunnel visioned by them, unable to move forward because they are the quicksand in our mind forcing us to stay
and let me tell you about trying to do texts at midnight drunk on the absence of sleep telling them that they surely understand, trying to get closure to the fact that no you are not the only one who feels like this, he feels it too, but it will always be about someone else
and i could give you countless essays on replaying images of their tears, on wishing that you were never in a ******* hotel corridor spilling your heart out to stain your dress with red memories, red red dark red memories that will always stay there
or the time, perhaps, when you were not freezing because he was there next to you to heat you, because the sound that escaped his speakers were melodies that comforted the both of you through the tidal waves of something larger than you and something able to engulf you with a single blow
but let me tell you how it all ends, how you think you can never go back to the feeling of mistakes when you aren't making any, when you're stuck alone in this big world without talking to anyone because it only causes trouble doesn't it? but it always swings back around and there isn't a cure for it
i could write a million and one essays explaining how i have felt the past two years of my life, how from the moment my thighs were frailer than my wrists to the moment i couldn't fit back into my favourite pair of pants, from the time i first saw all of their brown eyes to the time i last saw them, from the awkward moments in the hall that are filled with void and anger and tension to the moments when i would beg to see them again for just a little bit more, but i have realized that i can never make you get it
the only way to get it is to experience it, and for those of you who understand what i'm talking about, try to get some sleep tonight, try to keep the memories out of your dreams
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 9:46 AM UTC
I'm not smooth.
I cannot ****** you with a look,
For uncertainty steals the set of my lips that would invite yours.
I cannot lead you with my voice,
For huskiness eludes me, as does breath.
I cannot sell you with my body,
For it knows not the boldness I would need.
But with words I can stare you down,
I can make you shiver, unflinchingly,
I can honey the air with longing.
With words I am a new thing,
I am lithe as they are, I am sultry as they are, I am powerful
As they are.
Words are my home. Please come in.
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 7:28 PM UTC
for the sey-hey man
word bird droppings
scattershot sent
disguised neath flora,
a name by any other,
sally sent forth,
never looked back upon
untenable pursuit
GMO words planted in an
untended garden,
man-made wild sent seeds
purée of amputated lesions,
a divorcées convention,
bon mote note comparison,
freely shared, plagiarized,
by-product of a man's waste,
bidding adieu,
but never
au revoir
*let them spawn
more and others,
will love them
better just for knowing
even never
seeing them again,
still and always,
whatever wherever
they ride~write on,
still and always,
I'm in them,
unflinchingly personal,
even if signed by
another's name...*
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 6:38 AM UTC
Here I'm at this point(the present) standing placidly and astoundingly glancing at the zenith with wishes of reaching that peak and pinnacle of success. One step at a time, till you learn how to fly and I've heard a few say "patience is a virtue" and I believe so too,I believe patience is a harvest that's fruitful and can only bring forth happiness. Greatness takes time to acquire and for you to discover it within you requires qualities such as determination,patience and ambition. Those play a vital role for you to embrace that greatness.
As I reciprocate to my thoughts and reminisce about the years gone by,a phenomena occurs..I get a vivid glimpse of the future. Marvelled at my willingness to catapult beyond confinements. I give thanks to my inner peace that sources of this confidence so I could unflinchingly go toe-to-toe with any obstruction that gets on my path.
I live my life aware that with each breath I take I'm blessed therefore I'm appreciative of each day I get to live. I strategically calculate the steps I have to take to land me on the podium. In patience,occurs unnatural omens which signify the skies never receiving your hope. So even if I fail along the way I could never be inclined to give it all up.
P A T I E N C E = G R E A T N E S S
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 12:52 PM UTC
I’ve got an axe to grind, so am sharpening it
on the wheel of my wit — hey;
blunt-force-trauma’s enough to a **** a man.
Who, by right, should’ve been an abortion.
I’d unflinchingly watch dogs
rip him to pieces.
In-fact I’d whistle
and call more dogs. But I
wouldn’t be the only one doing this.
If we were in space
I’d smash his visor
then ****** when he pops.
If this were to happen
it would, just mean that
I got there first.
If he were dangling off a cliff
to the bottom I would race
inflate a mattress to safely catch.
But I’d fill it with rocks and knives
just to be sure.
To be sure, to be sure!
Sep 23, 2010
Sep 23, 2010 at 4:43 AM UTC
Those eyes
So sad
So loving, loyal and true.
Who can resist that look
From a dog?
Best family member
Of the animal kind.
So devoted to his Mum and Dad
And even uncle.
No fickleness here:
Unflinchingly faithful.
Loving to run and fetch
For his master or mistress.
Even bring in the ‘paper.
See him jump for joy
As you grab the lead
That he’s brought you.
It’s “That time”…
If you let him,
He’ll lick you all over
Before rolling on his back
For a belly rub.
(And his Missus is just the same)!
But those eyes have it:
Bottomlessly sad
So you just have to give him
Strokes and cuddles.
Paul Butters
© PB 21\1\2018.
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 3:15 PM UTC
stem cell words
from the cellular wall of the
poem birth canal
narrows, twists,
even double helix's,
doc-prof diagnosis
with perfect, absolute uncertainty,
denotes the presence of
stem cell words
*"all your writes,
gestating make-believe,
word smythe
premium cocktail concoctions,
gospel soul post-viewed
rocked and roiled
still and always,
unflinchingly personal
singing and simulcast
the unique
internal combustion,
that removes the pollution,
of your
unflinchingly personal..."*
mother necessity
delivery of a
Caesarian cut-them-out
says me
cut, excise them,
take them,
them newborn-baby stones
give them
a good home,
my DNA upon them,
my only Jacob blessing,
that they get
goodly tented taken
let them spawn
more and others,
will love them
better just for knowing
even never seeing them again,
still and always,
whatever they
write on,
still and always,
I'm in them,
they will be,
unflinchingly personal,
even if signed by
another's name....
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
Each separation gathers
A pound for pound
Anxiety - a distrust
In both myself the other
Though love is true
The foundation can still
Be rocked, like a flimsy ship
In a rolling storm
We are slaves to bad information
We want to believe the worst
For the worst is something much more
Tangible than the positive
Why be chained to unfortunate luck?
Why linger on past events gone sideways?
I miss the heat we would produce
The naked truths we stared at
Unflinchingly, at times, unknowingly
Rising in this noon day sun
My lover gone and far away
We share our thoughts, our memories
Our insufferable means to our ends
But the horizon holds true
As the red sky begins to turn blue
In this voice my promise is elusive
When one asks for forgiveness
They must realize their soul will be bare
50's in their might had their chance, and well
Here we are, in the dark, asking whose to start
And when I started it was by chance
My hands took to the page
Like a flirt would with a glance
And in my terror I discovered my own lies
My own truths, swearing never
To chase another's life or prize
In solitude the poet must wither
Like the lone redwood in forgotten forest
The myth of the angel hangs over my bed
But instead of worrying of the right definition
Allow each to fight for the life it thinks it deserves
Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 5:54 AM UTC
rest of title...Parkland, Fla.,February 14, 2018
One more senseless mass homicide
twas the sole arbitrary aim
as a former student nonchalantly
sauntered empty hallways
seconds preceding blame
brazenly intent to maximize total killed
matter of factly telling police
(his incomprehensible)
(ill) logic he did explain
when cornered, he willingly,
unflinchingly, reticently admitted guilt
Nikolas Cruz rocketed
to instantaneous infamous fame
pulling a fire alarm
("FAKE") emergency,
then going leisurely ambling
along his killing spree
total of seventeen slain (comprising 3 faculty
and 14 students)
mercilessly gunned down
as if they were wild game
when handcuffed, an innocuous
19 year old did readily admit
emptying one firearm after another
at a fairly rapid clip
then at some predestined
or spurious moment didst dip
and dive out amidst
the chaotic madding crowd
before reality flopped then did flip
as lower teeth he nervously bit upper lip
made feeble getaway
at a nearby eatery casually flirted
with cashier and made no move to flit
upon his seizure as cornered prey
subsequently large tract
massively cordoned off
strong arm of the law
slightly halting in speech
detailed his gambit
deliberately staking
a stance to maximize hit
and once again afflicted parents lit
up with rancor and rage pit
toughly battling sorrow
which will not quit
til death doth bring peaceful rest
sans, those grieving family visit.
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 7:18 PM UTC
It’s Saturday morning, and even though it’s Thanksgiving break, Lisa and I are in her bedroom, in NYC, studying.
“Ok,” Lisa stops, looks up and says, “give me a *** symbol.”
“I.. I don’t have one on me.” I say, apologetically.
“NAME one.” she clarifies.
“Are there *** symbols” anymore?” I say, with air-quotes, “Who’s “Marilyn Monroe” today - Kim Kardashian - oooo - or Kendall Jenner?”
“I read Emily Ratajkowski refer to herself as a *** symbol the other day.” Lisa says.
“Is that the model that said she was groped at a naked photo-shoot?” I ask, as I google her.
“Yeah,” Lesa nods, “but it was a naked music video shoot.”
“Do you think I could model?” I ask, as I pose vampingly. “Be unflinchingly honest.” I request.
“Hhmmmm,” she considers, framing me in a finger rectangle pretend camera. “You’re like Marilyn Monroe,” she says, “in a training bra.” We burst out laughing
“Back to the subject,” Lisa says, “name a guy you think of as a *** symbol.”
“Humphrey Bogart!“ I say.
“Humphrey Bogart?? No!” she rejects him, wrinkling her nose, “too old-timey and dead, besides, he was a MOVIE star - come ON, a real one - SAY!”
Michael Gandolfini!” I offer.
“Michael Gandolfini??” she says, sounding stumped as her fingers google him.
*I make a dreamy “mmmm,” yummy sound.
“Oh, my GOD,” she says, and looks up for confirmation. “Humphrey Bogart and Michael Gandolfini - HONESTLY, you have the WEIRDEST taste!”
I was shocked, “No, seriously, don’t you think Michael looks kind of soft, cute and.. LUVable?”
She groans, “You’re going to marry an ugly man someday - aren’t you?” She pronounces, shaking her head.
“AM NOT!” I responded, throwing a pillow at her head (a pillow fight ensues).
Nov 20, 2021
Nov 20, 2021 at 9:02 PM UTC
When your dance a bounty, yet sing
they fail – I have learned to love,
worrisome mother and adorn you:
such a kiss is planted
a rose on the plump cheek of children.
your girth measures unflinchingly,
the laughter of the world around you
so small, kept in a dark, blinkered box.
your parasol smothers the light
cast unswervingly on stone.
who has long kept you in the caliginous womb,
with all the light that spangles through?
who has snuffed your little arms
and dressed you for everyone to see?
when you are quite flamboyant for
everyone to feast on,
what word passes on as salutation?
when you are festive enough to revel in,
what pagoda tries itself to the life
allowed to gleam proudly?
women, men, children, and all -
frolicsome around the darkled bough
smitten by the frayed sight of believing,
sifting from the way our hands
craft things the dispensable glee
of glasswork: the world is Murano.
and my eyes have seen all flourish
in a darling ebb of curbed felicities – the diaphanous
clangour of steel and shadow.
the slain orchestra of frogs in the crush of rain.
the detriment of the Earth curled like an infant
in the womb of the dark.
- oh trees and their wondrous life of green,
begin to question the wind and its tourniquet;
shadows drunk on turpentine, the spry wilt of hours:
what is their final duty?
if our laughter is slain in the perils of night,
how are we to become them?
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 3:30 AM UTC
Why must passion be frustratingly entangled in melancholy
The words remembered are acidic; a teary brine
Nights of foraging your soul alone hang in the hallways
When the only drunk that's worth a **** is nostalgia
And the only ink in the universe is trapped by old letters
You drown any fire mercilessly, unflinchingly
Because at least the colds consistent
And at least you've learned to cope
Breakdowns are receding with miles of open road
Nights of infinite stars drape a world's worries
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 11:21 PM UTC
but mostly
what makes my mind
veer off track at night
is the fear of you changing
leaving me
dried up mud
crumbling in the cracks
of your sneakers.
i’m so very frightened
of the day
i am no longer enough.
and that’s what f-cking ***** right now.
because I’ve always tried
to push fear back down my throat
like sour bile
in a mini puke.
i’ve always wanted
to desensitize myself
because **EMOTION
IS A SYMPTOM
OF WEAKNESS**.
And so i’ve aspired
to be quartz
with cracks that don’t break open.
but i’m just here.
i'm watercolor floral patterns
on chipped porcelain.
and there is nothing i can do
to exist more unflinchingly
a product of human error
just like all the rest
tugged along by oxytocin handcuffs
a slave to serotonin
a slave to that which makes me feel.
and it frustrates me that I can be so pathetically human.
and I am grinding my teeth
with each word of this
cliché.
idiotic.
diluted.
love poem.
i am trembling with the injustice
i am shaking with the question:
why can’t i be the exception?
why can't i be charcoal?
In the herd of sheep
too caught up
in being loved
to save themselves
from being left.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 3:29 PM UTC
Shadows grip our tongues in fear
Stopping us from spilling words they might not wish to hear
They choke us with their invisible hands
Stopping us from unflinchingly taking the stand
They stare into our souls with veiled eyes
A vaporous possession from ghosts in disguise.
Sep 2, 2019
Sep 2, 2019 at 1:16 PM UTC
' I woke.
I slept.
I dreamt of nothing.
Stars littered the sky as I rose.
The moon poised it’s deep, sorrow face.
Over the valleys a hungry wolf howled melancholy with the sad moon.
“Why are we so alone, in a world of encumberance?” The wolf asked of the moon.
The moon just wallowed, and did not speak, the moon never did.
The wolf languished near the stream, cautiously perking up at the sounds coming from the dark wood behind.
Hope was far from the wolf’s weighted mind. His life had been filled with loneliness. Raised from birth by the Earth alone, none other called him as their own. He hunted alone, he ate alone, he slept alone, and he was doomed to die alone as all others.
Deep in the dark wood, a pack of ferocity lingered in the shadows, prowling on the lone wolf.
The black horror claimed this land as his own, and he allowed no trespassers. His pack was equally relentless, and they would spill the blood of all who opposed this challenge.
The wolf continued to howl, prickles of black fur sprang up on his neck as the scent of a foe approached.
The pack moved in on him, six snarling snouts, and twelve yellow eyes gleamed at him.
They were hungry.
We’re all hungry.
We’re all starving.
The moon watched unflinchingly, as the water ran red past the bellowing frogs, chirping crickets, the oaks branches that sunk low into the river, casting swaying shadows from the heavy moon.
He watched with his same sad face, how can anything constantly watching us ever have another emotion? The wolf lay, mangled and torn. The others attacked him in a contempt savagery, hunger tearing at their shallow bellies.
Spasms of fleeting feeling went through the wolf, the whites and greys of his once illecebrous and divine fur, now soaked with his own blood. His tongue lolled out of his snout, and his teeth were all shattered.
He hadn’t put up a fight.
The pack shredded him. The black wolf treated all outside wolves as threats. He had no interest of letting a stray wolf get into his pack and challenge his authority. So he killed, before he was challenged. It seemed ideal to him, and his pack was fed joyously. They licked their chops, grinned like a hyena, and barked laughter all at another, while the great black wolf, looked to the moon, and howled heinously in it’s direction.
The dark moon watches from above
So sad at what he must see
The good sun wished with him
To disperse light over the seas
They wept and cried
laughed; and died
The light was put in place
Dark doesn’t surrender to grace
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
I can feel the demons. The darkness inside of me.
Its very subtle. It is slow, and patient.
But then, after a lot of stress or damage, it explodes.
The black becomes red,
And the hunger that has been festering,
Unflinchingly screams out for more
For blood and gore.
And lust.
I feel as if on the edge of a very perilous cliff,
And at the very bottom the lord of evils himself awaits,
With. Very soft, very kind smile.
I want to trust those eyes.
I want to grab her ***
I want to take her where she stands.
And when the try and stop me I want to ****
I want to be unstoppable,
I want to rule and never be questioned,
I want to be right, and always right.
I want to be known as great and terrible and fearsome and I want to destroy.
I want to destroy, so that this emptyness I reside in,
Is not mine alone.
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 2:27 AM UTC