Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Gerry Aldridge May 2016
The Joy Of Unknowing
Ah! To unknow the sun
Exploding into molten gold
As it dances upon your hair.

Unknow your perfume
That lingers forever in the air.
Unknow the orchestra
Playing relentlessly in my heart.

Unknow your smile, your laugh
And the funny things you do
All the infectious parts of you.

Ah! To unknow the touch we nearly had
And the joy we imagined
Would fill our innocent lies one day.

Unknow the dream
And change it back into a mere thought
That was never afforded an existence
Except in the rantings of a /fu:l/

Ah! Ah! To unknow the fear
Of losing you
Unknow the futility
Of wanting to hold you near.

But, how can you unknow
Something you never really knew?
Or feel decimated by the loss
Of something that was never yours?

Oh! The fact of not knowing you
Became the only part of me I remember.
I remember knowing it would never be,
I think you also knew, didn’t you?

Oh! Oh! I realise we cannot go back
And unknow what we have seen
And been and become.

We cannot chip away
At the sculpture,
Which is our life.

Cannot take out the bits
We do not want to be anymore-
It is too late.

I am with you
And you with me
In this dream
For eternity.
(Gerry Aldridge ©2016)
Obviously this about a love I cannot have.
WHEN that Aprilis, with his showers swoot,                       *sweet
The drought of March hath pierced to the root,
And bathed every vein in such licour,
Of which virtue engender'd is the flower;
When Zephyrus eke with his swoote breath
Inspired hath in every holt
and heath                    grove, forest
The tender croppes
and the younge sun                    twigs, boughs
Hath in the Ram  his halfe course y-run,
And smalle fowles make melody,
That sleepen all the night with open eye,
(So pricketh them nature in their corages
);       hearts, inclinations
Then longe folk to go on pilgrimages,
And palmers  for to seeke strange strands,
To *ferne hallows couth
  in sundry lands;     distant saints known
And specially, from every shire's end
Of Engleland, to Canterbury they wend,
The holy blissful Martyr for to seek,
That them hath holpen, when that they were sick.                helped

Befell that, in that season on a day,
In Southwark at the Tabard  as I lay,
Ready to wenden on my pilgrimage
To Canterbury with devout corage,
At night was come into that hostelry
Well nine and twenty in a company
Of sundry folk, by aventure y-fall            who had by chance fallen
In fellowship, and pilgrims were they all,           into company.
That toward Canterbury woulde ride.
The chamber, and the stables were wide,
And well we weren eased at the best.            we were well provided
And shortly, when the sunne was to rest,                  with the best

So had I spoken with them every one,
That I was of their fellowship anon,
And made forword* early for to rise,                            promise
To take our way there as I you devise
.                describe, relate

But natheless, while I have time and space,
Ere that I farther in this tale pace,
Me thinketh it accordant to reason,
To tell you alle the condition
Of each of them, so as it seemed me,
And which they weren, and of what degree;
And eke in what array that they were in:
And at a Knight then will I first begin.

A KNIGHT there was, and that a worthy man,
That from the time that he first began
To riden out, he loved chivalry,
Truth and honour, freedom and courtesy.
Full worthy was he in his Lorde's war,
And thereto had he ridden, no man farre
,                       farther
As well in Christendom as in Heatheness,
And ever honour'd for his worthiness
At Alisandre  he was when it was won.
Full often time he had the board begun
Above alle nations in Prusse.
In Lettowe had he reysed,
and in Russe,                      journeyed
No Christian man so oft of his degree.
In Grenade at the siege eke had he be
Of Algesir, and ridden in Belmarie.
At Leyes was he, and at Satalie,
When they were won; and in the Greate Sea
At many a noble army had he be.
At mortal battles had he been fifteen,
And foughten for our faith at Tramissene.
In listes thries, and aye slain his foe.
This ilke
worthy knight had been also                         same
Some time with the lord of Palatie,
Against another heathen in Turkie:
And evermore *he had a sovereign price
.            He was held in very
And though that he was worthy he was wise,                 high esteem.

And of his port as meek as is a maid.
He never yet no villainy ne said
In all his life, unto no manner wight.
He was a very perfect gentle knight.
But for to telle you of his array,
His horse was good, but yet he was not gay.
Of fustian he weared a gipon,                            short doublet
Alle besmotter'd with his habergeon,     soiled by his coat of mail.
For he was late y-come from his voyage,
And wente for to do his pilgrimage.

With him there was his son, a younge SQUIRE,
A lover, and a ***** bacheler,
With lockes crulle* as they were laid in press.                  curled
Of twenty year of age he was I guess.
Of his stature he was of even length,
And *wonderly deliver
, and great of strength.      wonderfully nimble
And he had been some time in chevachie,                  cavalry raids
In Flanders, in Artois, and Picardie,
And borne him well, as of so little space,      in such a short time
In hope to standen in his lady's grace.
Embroider'd was he, as it were a mead
All full of freshe flowers, white and red.
Singing he was, or fluting all the day;
He was as fresh as is the month of May.
Short was his gown, with sleeves long and wide.
Well could he sit on horse, and faire ride.
He coulde songes make, and well indite,
Joust, and eke dance, and well pourtray and write.
So hot he loved, that by nightertale                        night-time
He slept no more than doth the nightingale.
Courteous he was, lowly, and serviceable,
And carv'd before his father at the table.

A YEOMAN had he, and servants no mo'
At that time, for him list ride so         it pleased him so to ride
And he was clad in coat and hood of green.
A sheaf of peacock arrows bright and keen
Under his belt he bare full thriftily.
Well could he dress his tackle yeomanly:
His arrows drooped not with feathers low;
And in his hand he bare a mighty bow.
A nut-head  had he, with a brown visiage:
Of wood-craft coud* he well all the usage:                         knew
Upon his arm he bare a gay bracer
,                        small shield
And by his side a sword and a buckler,
And on that other side a gay daggere,
Harnessed well, and sharp as point of spear:
A Christopher on his breast of silver sheen.
An horn he bare, the baldric was of green:
A forester was he soothly
as I guess.                        certainly

There was also a Nun, a PRIORESS,
That of her smiling was full simple and coy;
Her greatest oathe was but by Saint Loy;
And she was cleped
  Madame Eglentine.                           called
Full well she sang the service divine,
Entuned in her nose full seemly;
And French she spake full fair and fetisly
                    properly
After the school of Stratford atte Bow,
For French of Paris was to her unknow.
At meate was she well y-taught withal;
She let no morsel from her lippes fall,
Nor wet her fingers in her sauce deep.
Well could she carry a morsel, and well keep,
That no droppe ne fell upon her breast.
In courtesy was set full much her lest
.                       pleasure
Her over-lippe wiped she so clean,
That in her cup there was no farthing
seen                       speck
Of grease, when she drunken had her draught;
Full seemely after her meat she raught
:           reached out her hand
And *sickerly she was of great disport
,     surely she was of a lively
And full pleasant, and amiable of port,                     disposition

And pained her to counterfeite cheer              took pains to assume
Of court,* and be estately of mannere,            a courtly disposition
And to be holden digne
of reverence.                            worthy
But for to speaken of her conscience,
She was so charitable and so pitous,
                      full of pity
She woulde weep if that she saw a mouse
Caught in a trap, if it were dead or bled.
Of smalle houndes had she, that she fed
With roasted flesh, and milk, and *wastel bread.
   finest white bread
But sore she wept if one of them were dead,
Or if men smote it with a yarde* smart:                           staff
And all was conscience and tender heart.
Full seemly her wimple y-pinched was;
Her nose tretis;
her eyen gray as glass;               well-formed
Her mouth full small, and thereto soft and red;
But sickerly she had a fair forehead.
It was almost a spanne broad I trow;
For *hardily she was not undergrow
.       certainly she was not small
Full fetis* was her cloak, as I was ware.                          neat
Of small coral about her arm she bare
A pair of beades, gauded all with green;
And thereon hung a brooch of gold full sheen,
On which was first y-written a crown'd A,
And after, *Amor vincit omnia.
                      love conquers all
Another Nun also with her had she,
[That was her chapelleine, and PRIESTES three.]

A MONK there was, a fair for the mast'ry,       above all others
An out-rider, that loved venery;                               *hunting
A manly man, to be an abbot able.
Full many a dainty horse had he in stable:
And when he rode, men might his bridle hear
Jingeling  in a whistling wind as clear,
And eke as loud, as doth the chapel bell,
There as this lord was keeper of the cell.
The rule of Saint Maur and of Saint Benet,
Because that it was old and somedeal strait
This ilke
monk let olde thinges pace,                             same
And held after the newe world the trace.
He *gave not of the text a pulled hen,
                he cared nothing
That saith, that hunters be not holy men:                  for the text

Ne that a monk, when he is cloisterless;
Is like to a fish that is waterless;
This is to say, a monk out of his cloister.
This ilke text held he not worth an oyster;
And I say his opinion was good.
Why should he study, and make himselfe wood                   *mad
Upon a book in cloister always pore,
Or swinken
with his handes, and labour,                           toil
As Austin bid? how shall the world be served?
Let Austin have his swink to him reserved.
Therefore he was a prickasour
aright:                       hard rider
Greyhounds he had as swift as fowl of flight;
Of pricking
and of hunting for the hare                         riding
Was all his lust,
for no cost would he spare.                 pleasure
I saw his sleeves *purfil'd at the hand       *worked at the end with a
With gris,
and that the finest of the land.          fur called "gris"
And for to fasten his hood under his chin,
He had of gold y-wrought a curious pin;
A love-knot in the greater end there was.
His head was bald, and shone as any glass,
And eke his face, as it had been anoint;
He was a lord full fat and in good point;
His eyen steep,
and rolling in his head,                      deep-set
That steamed as a furnace of a lead.
His bootes supple, his horse in great estate,
Now certainly he was a fair prelate;
He was not pale as a forpined
ghost;                            wasted
A fat swan lov'd he best of any roast.
His palfrey was as brown as is a berry.

A FRIAR there was, a wanton and a merry,
A limitour , a full solemne man.
In all the orders four is none that can
                          knows
So much of dalliance and fair language.
He had y-made full many a marriage
Of younge women, at his owen cost.
Unto his order he was a noble post;
Full well belov'd, and familiar was he
With franklins *over all
in his country,                   everywhere
And eke with worthy women of the town:
For he had power of confession,
As said himselfe, more than a curate,
For of his order he was licentiate.
Full sweetely heard he confession,
And pleasant was his absolution.
He was an easy man to give penance,
There as he wist to have a good pittance:      *where he know
Lunar Jan 2018
i want to know
how to unknow you
Tonight: I wish all of this, and all of some people, never happened. I am tired just for tonight.

(j.m.)
jane taylor Aug 2016
you cannot unwalk the bridge you have crossed
you cannot unknow the fresh taste of enlightenment
once you have breathed it in
there is no way back
to an illusory net of safety
take courage
spread your wings
and fly

©2016janetaylor
i post many of my poems over my photography
~ to see the photo and poem combo go to
http://www.janetaylorhardy.com/#!there-is-no-way-back/c186k/57c1d991da6989613dd3f4f3
In a poet eye
Text are always dancing
To an invisible rhythm
Even the static figures
Keeps jumping up and down
Seeing through many lens
Lens changing with every step
I can't place my hand on it, what brings words into your head
Naomi Perez Aug 2013
Oh my dear friend molly,
How I love you so.
Always there for me,
Oh sweet molly
A your voice is a drug.
Makes me feel comfortable
Like my sweet friend maryjane
All you need is to spark her up
Shes on fire
Makes you feel worth living
I always hang out with maryjane with friends
Even alone
My mom likes her
My family doesn't
My mom hates molly
For a reason unknow
Maybe because she almost killed me
Molly killed my cousin
I miss her but molly is nicer
Makes you happy right?
My cousin never did
I met maryjane when i was 13
Best day of my life
Happy
The happiest i had been in months
At a party is where i met her
Maryjane is my bestfriend
She introduced me to molly
I blame her sometimes for that
But then i hang with molly and i love her
Molly is fake though
Always nice when shes with you
After she makes you feels bad
Like you need her all the time
As if you cant live without her
Oh sweet maryjane never does this to me
She knows ill always come back to her
But molly has a price too
Makes you happy but then harms you
Please leave molly i cant continue to live with you
Maryjane my savior is the one i look up to
Spiralize Sep 2018
Standing by the shallow waters I stare
Sun is shining but no shadow is visible
The other side has something unknow
But I feel too weak to sail my boat..

What I might find I am not aware
The first push I give is crucial
The Mast is broken,wind sail is torn
As I felt a spear down my throat..

Cross these waters before the thunders
But why am I afraid of them now?
Let the wind sail the ship home
Take me to the place unknown..

Random things at random times
Is a symptom. We have to adapt
Weak heart has an ego to be killed
Mosaic minds have to be willed...
BaileyBuckels Mar 2014
Sono te o watashi e to
Azukete; me o tojite
Mabuta ni kuchizukete
Itami o iyashimashou
Nemurinasai, yukkuri to
Ushinau kowasa wa dare mo onaji
Kanashimi, mayoi mo tsutsumikomu
Chikarazuyosa kanjitai
Arasou munashisa subete no hito
Kizukeba kagayaku hi wa noboru
Sono toki made inoru kara
Show message history

Give your hand to me
And close your eyes
Let me cure your pain
With a kiss on your eyelids
Sleep now, be at ease
Everyone's the same: their lost fears
Wrapping up sadness and confusion, too
I want to feel that strength
If everyone realized
The pointlessness of dispute, a glittering sun would rise
Until that time comes, I pray
Sydney Queen May 2015
We were green and chaotic,
then.
Everything was foolish and heartful and marvelous,
the anarchic knot of your shoelaces,
the weedy attempt to stifle your wild laugh.
I would learn you again
and again.
I smile and it is crooked and joyful,
and you will never be able to unknow it.
Today we are older
and every bit as reckless.
Eld could drink our blood and grow young again.
We keep saying yes.
There are some things
we say only in the dark.
And it’s not about nervousness,
good god,
its for the thrill of it.
It seems impossible to exist in only this space.
I don’t know who I am when I am not looking at you.
I don’t know how to be that person again.
I will always love a wild thing.

I know what I'm capable of.
just let me die
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2019
love between poets: “who will be between the sheets next week
when I’m gone,” she lets sigh-escape,
as she watches the backyard paradise parading landscape
of animals before the bay, perfect day sure to come,
her new pets obeying the early morn sunrising awakening call
to rise, everyone playing~parading, before her royal summons,
no coincidence, finger-of-god, two by two

this while I’m kissing her neck,
my arm around her *******,
and the he-intent on slip sliding down
to the small of her back,
obeying his innate,
worship worshiping and giving up,
all he’s got intense intently contentedly

unfazed, unphased,
non-nonplussed,
he’s been interrogated before,
heart is pure he answers:

next weekend when you are back in situ,
thousands of miles away, airplane housed for hours,
writing poems of love from the lost and found,
recalling this exact moment,
how I worshipped your presence,
and these words:

You will be with me in every breath,
our sheets will radioactively emit
ions and molecules of our scent combined,
and present as present  your perfume can be,
elicited, elixir, you and me combinant

she turns from the bay-view,
the animals who now mutually
worship her adoration,
watching, focused on us as observers,
she lifts me up and smiles,
replying

“oh my lover you’re the cad of cads,
king of the baddest poet-lads,
the gist of what is wrong with the best of men,
her, pressing me hard to her chestnut hair chest,
she, falling down into my eyes

take me back to bed, liar,
let me add to my aroma,
to ensue, to ensure you will miss
the best love
you had partly, insufficiently, and unhinged
completely

I’m your lassie, you my lad,
my king of cads, my lover poet,
thief of my poems and my secret speech spells,
escalating senses of one’s imaginings”


and,
along came the rest
of what was freely given,
for love between poets
man and
a woman,
is a someone, somewhere,
sometime summertime
thing

I will still smell you in my
heart, and send to you ballistic missives,
words to explode your tear ducts
when you rest in sheets that met me,
when you’ll know me by my odors,
cry out loud so that you’ll scare our animals,
no matter how many tides wash away our residue,
you will never unknow and be forever unprepared
for my return,


even though we will be each, a thousand unwritten poems away...
Max Feb 2019
Such a clear sky tonight,
There were so many stars, yet one shined the brightest.

And I wondered who was it up there trying to talk and brighten my night?
Stood outside blazed by the starry night.
Neha Nathani Mar 2015
I wish I could
unknow you
like I would
undo a knot--

over, above
under and through
my mind untangled
from the thoughts of you

but I find that
unknowing you
is less like unraveling
stubborn strings

and a little more like
trying to unclasp
a relentless grip
around my neck
Atlas Rover Jan 2014
I remember when I was a child,
A child amidst an ocean of rage.
Chaos clouded each step I took,
My emotions drained out of my soul.
I refined my rage, the crimson hate,
I resented Avarice, I had it all.
Fear had abandoned me long ago,
My will was strong, it burned with a glow.
I had abandoned Hope, for its light did not shine for me,
My dark soul saw compassion as a facade,
and Love was always locked away.
The blades of Chaos carved my soul,
its black hands destroyed my heart.
My innocence was lost to all,
Darkness seeped out of me to all near me.
Traitors and backstabbers I met with each day,
I smiled gruesomely as my mind they sliced.
On surface, all hope I had lost,
But deep within, my heart cried out.
I saw anguish and terror dark,
the flames of hell bathed my life.
And finally a day did come,
When in torment, an oath I took.
I promised to play life's game,
I swore to dissolve myself.
I carved a mask of glittering facades,
to hide away my inner self.
For years I lived like this,
shunning emotions and companionship.
I smiled when I cried, drank all my tears,
And tried to do where others had failed.
I was there for all,
A placid smile on my face.
But the fates are cruel,
they had the power to rule and send me back to my hell.
The mask of my facades one day I left,
Unknow to me my heart cried out.
It imprinted itself on the first soul it found,
But ah cruel fates, you had your say!
They crackled in their seats,
For they had the play manned.
They gave me one to love indeed,
But sadly she could not love me back.
Suddenly, my calm broke,
Crimson rage rose up like the blood of a corpse,
I was angry at fate, angry at myself.
Avarice found my heart,
I wanted her happy, I wanted her smiles.
Fear of rejection kept me at bay,
My will to fight gave way.
Cowardly hope claimed my heart,
In the eyes of allies, compassion I found.
Love with a vengenance found my heart,
Suddenly my heart a doeful song did sing.
My eyes sank deep into dark lament,
Chaos saw the doors of my heart open and with me insecure,
overcame me with a chaotic embrace.
In midst of pain and angst,A soothing voice I heard,
The Reaper with his scythe upturned,
called out to me in melodious refrains,
"Sleep with me Adam's child."
He asked of me,
Lay down in the fields of dew.
Drink a brew of hemlock,
And dream in silence, eternal in the lands of death.
My heart, a wounded animal cried,
It thought good of Death's offer.
My mind however lost not its faith,
and cried out to 'Life' to convince me again.
"My dear child" said the white lady,
"Lose not hope in life's turmoil,
I agree you have been witness to pain,
but fear not I will give you your respite.
"Would you listen to this beautiful lie?"
cried Death with his stony voice,
"I never lie but you, child of Adam,
must eventually die."
Anguish filled my darkened soul,
My mind was in torment and made no sense.
I dreamed of Life and that of Death,
but chose to go back again.
Maxim Keyfman Jul 2018
I'm very sad
I'm very sad
because everything
vaguely

because everything
unknown
Because it's not clear
what will be ahead

I'm very sad
and the moon in the sky is beautiful
but even its harmony
does not help to soothe everything inside

and even her singing
and even her wonderful game
on the piano of heaven
can not give me rest

can not give me stars
and can not give freedom
such freedom
what was in childhood

her i
forever lost
lost as well as almost all
in this world

14.07.18
Siti Asmida Sep 2019
To think.. I cannot say anything. After all, I lying to my self.

This feeling is.. Yeah..

      No one know what I feel.

             No one ever understand me.

   My fears.    My tears.   Is everything no one can ever understand.

The reason why my fears is appeared is unknow.

      The reason my tears drop is unknow too.

      Lets just DIE. When I die, no one ever care.



I should tell them that I will die. Die from running out of tears.


    Open a new book and start a new story. If there is no happy ending, let's write it again.
Never deceiving yourself
akr Nov 2012
The slipped knot of now into will be
is such a gentle strand,

the braid undoes itself from yesterday
as easily as a garment's clasp,
as easily as abseiling liana.

Can I hold soft
the line?

To not look back
but keep the mountain's imprint
emboldened in the eye

To unknow
the difference from ascent and descent.

O day, o cloud: what do you know
that hasn't been pressed through my palms?
im at my weakest
when your around

my weakness is at its peak
but only when your found
Mia Oct 2012
It takes baby steps
to fall out of love
yet falling in love is fast
like a rollercoaster ride
going with the waves
up and down.

you can't unknow someone
whose very essence is burned
into the depths of your soul
can't forget the one
who fills your every waking thought.

I want to unlearn every lesson
forget the bad memories
learn to let go of the pain
discover who I am and who I can be without you.
JT Jun 2016
For her eighteenth birthday,
a gift from the fates;
she knows how she will die.
Before, there was a vague notion—
A shadow cast by a hungry dragon
who roosts on the branches of the family tree,
devouring her ancestors, waiting and unslayable.
Now, the diviners speak to her in pedigrees
and punnett squares, leafing through a deck
of tarot cards, checking vials of her blood
for patterns in the tea leaves at the bottom,
hardening the shadows at their edges and
twisting peripheral horror into prophecy,
a promise, and she sees it all,
she sees everything, laid in front of her
and stretching out like a golden string
towards the vanishing horizon:

The sharp burn of dread at every twitch
and missing memory, jellied elegies oozing
from the center of others’ puffed pleasantries,
years spent watching her soul
get thinner and thinner, trapped
within a broken heap of matter and flesh,
cursed bone, misfiring electricity,
eroding endlessly, self destructing,
never ending, ending soon,
and, at last, alone, gazing back on a youth
spent gazing forward, ******, and dying
and derelict, and decades in the making—
she asks herself, what would she not give
for the chance to unknow,
to trade the dragon for the slow, soft lull
of the indifferent stars,
and to die whole and confused,
like the rest of us.
Mike Essig May 2015
Every morning I try to unlearn the universe.
It is like a yoga exercise to escape the irons of knowledge.
In 63 years your head fills with so much *******.
There must be a method for purging the excess.
So far I have not been able to discover it.
I will keep trying because I want to see things fresh.
I want to hear babies cry and Mozart exhalt for the first time.
I want to enter a woman anew like a baffled 15-year-old
discovering a pleasure from which he will never want to escape.
I want to forget my over-remembered  life.
I want to rediscover the salty taste of women.
I have been everywhere and am out of destinations.
I ache for the pain of a question lacking an answer.
I want to go to war again and relearn a sense of terror.
I want to experience the baffled euphoria of first love.
I want to reclaim my sense of wonder from jaded life.
Imagine the utter joy of hearing again birds for the first time.
Unlearning is so much harder than learning.
I fear not enough years remain to unknow this burden.
But I must keep at it with a vigor no longer possessed.
It is morning again in the heart of Mike Essig.
And every morning I try to unlearn the universe
simply so I might know the bliss of learning it again.
Mia Jan 2014
And even though things have changed between us,
The love we once felt doesn't fade.
that love, that knowledge... that doesn't go away.
I wish I could unknow every curve of your face,
and every word you half speak then change your mind.
It would be easier if it did go away,
if I could hate you.
Maybe if we had fought more,
if there were hateful words you had said that I could recall in perfect clarity --
ugly words that I could throw at my reflection when I stood in front of the mirror.
See, it's probably my fault you didn't love me enough.
whenever I look at my reflection I wonder what was so wrong with me,
that our relationship fell apart.
That doesn't make it easier to forgive myself.
It might be easier if my heart didn't skip a beat every time I hear your name.

BUT, how many of us can say we did something ******* up for a love that didn't work out?
That we uprooted ourselves and turned into someone else.
I jumped and fell freely and ended up at rock bottom.
But I'm digging my way out one sad movie at a time.
Digging while my eyes sting with tears,
as my hands bleed,
as my clothes tear away.
And I'm trying really hard to not be embarrassed about failing.
It doesn't always work out, I knew that.
That didn't stop my heart from beating to the thuds of hope.
If only you were the one.
If only I could have been what you wanted and compromised some more.

Each time we break up I want to crawl into bed and never get out.
I analyze each part of me,
wondering what didn't fit into a part of you, why it couldn't fit.
I know it couldn't fit into a part of anyone else.
I think about my life,
berating myself at the bad choices.
I wonder if I was wrong -- maybe we weren't so bad?
Maybe that was as good as it gets?
Maybe I asked for too much?
Maybe I'm too idealistic and too crazy and I need to be more realistic and grab a hold of a man that will do.

But no,
I want a man that wants to make me happy.
A man that knows am everything he needs and isn't afraid.
I want you to be ready for me.
Don't run cause we always end up right here.
I want you.
Just you.
It's always only been you.
tyler land Aug 2010
you sit there
to the right of my eye
dancing about like giddy fool
but when i look directly at you
you disaperate
to a world unknow
then i presume reading
and back you are
dancing again
almost taunting
i know that if try to take a glance
youll be gone back to your other world
still dance you are then
couriousity gets the best
i look you are gone again
then thoughts pour in
"am i going insane"
then the peives like voice say
"you all ready are"
see speck youve made voices apear
it annoys me so but as contineu to write
but this time dance
it seems as thought you feel my anoence
then just as i was about write that you felt for me and stoped
you are back and this time more jittery that ever
now i am almost shaking with rage
i thought you were nice
but now you are not
its almost as thought you remind me of someone i know
but yet i dont your descriptsion is on the tip of my toung but then it is not
just like your jitter dance
aha now i have it
you remind me of me
Ai Luan Feb 2021
As I walk towards
this dark valley
I fear I might regret but
There no way
To turn back
For the moment
I stepped In my fate
has been sealed
And so I walk to
My uncertain fate
Memories and ashes
make these walls
They look at me and
Whisper asking me
To come over
And so here I walk
into the Unknown valley
to my uncertain fate
pookie Apr 2014
Open yours eyes please,
Open them to the new day,
Open yours and see the sun rise,
Let it wash away your nightmares my dear,
Open your eyes and let me take your hands,
Let me help you up,
Open your hands to mine so I can help stand my dear,

Let me take you to all the places you wanted to see,
Open your eyes and see that I will do that for you,
Let me give you all the things that you need,
To surprise you with roses and tickets to Unknow destinations,

Planes to exotic places,
Breakfast in different cites,
Memories scattered over the world,

Open your eyes darling,
Open your hands,
Take my hands and take the first step,
In this adventure,
That we call life.
Emma S Jul 2013
It seems to be so peaceful
So quiet
But still so full of Life

The ocean amaze me
The blue water hypnotize me
Just like the creatures in it

So full of color
So full of Life
Makes me wanna be a part of it

I want to just lay in the middle of the ocean
Feel my body sink
Deeper and deeper

Never stop falling
Falling falling falling
Deeper into the big blue

Cold and unknow
Yet so Beautiful and calming
Let me be a part of it
What is dusk, but the promise of dawn?
Where all of the wrongs shall be undone,
Your love, the eternal flower of purity
Your heart, an epicenter of sincerity

-

No failure made
Where knowledge hadn’t come
A sweet serenade
Of your love behind, sung

-

The furious creature in me
By you always calmed
Your word, in my heart
True as psalms.

-

Were I growthed different
Who would I be?
I druther not think it
For shall it ne’er matter to me

-

Your tolerance
For my mistakes unknow
And your pride no matter
For How I have grown

-

When I seek silence,
When I think mineself a cur,
Feeling you with me
My creature doth pur

-

My questions ever answered
Your back never turned
When young and asleep in your loving arms,
Could not a soul me stirred.

-

So ever after and always
Will I remain here for thee,
My death only bothersome,
If I let you alone be.
Sana Dec 2014
And you can never see
You can never be
Everything that they are
Anything that is not
A word
Or a phrase
They can never be
And you can never become
What you cannot see
You have blinded your eyes
You have cut your ears
And you have sewed your mouth
And I cannot unsee
I cannot unknow
I cannot help
But be
Everything I flee
Everything I hate

*Would I ever be something more?
Pt 1

This is personally one of my favorites, hope you'll enjoy reading it.
Cristy Sesma Jan 2017
Sugar sugar spice
Oh baby
Its my look that drives you crazy
Not my eyes
Open legs, closed mind, tradition follows
Let me pray
Today. Am I forgiven today?
Tomorrow I may sin again
Or maybe i'll just sing
Love, walks alone feeling misunderstood
Obsession, ***, naive
High socks, short skirt, shy smiles
Always a rebel, never held a cause
You keep running
Spicing up your day
Blaming others on your mistakes
Never at ease because
Always looking fot a place to hide
Oh baby
You are not even sweet
You have no spice
Not even darkness in your soul
You are just a ghost of the unknow
Trying to be someone believing it means something
When you only look like a fool
Transforming yourself into a joke
Madison Davis Jun 2014
Cats cry as classical music plays
and furniture floats in some box far off
We hold our heads low, only hands move
to roll down windows while leaving
a place we never called home.

California, did you feel me reach for you
between heaving breaths as father
passes Main Street toward the highway?
and mama smiles, cringes, throws her
chest forward
Merge for incoming traffic but there
isn’t anyone else on the highway
headphones like blindness or alternate
realities where mama and I are not just an expense.

Pennsylvania and Super 8 Motel
Where we rush in carrying the cats
in towels to make them look like laundry
not having enough to pay the pet deposit
red brown bed covers- bad blood
between mother and father
as they cannot agree on a tv station
miles to go and
everyone sighs and sips at their excitement

Stop at an exit toward a hotel without a pool
in Nebraska
where people take their drink dry
or ***** or depressed
mama and papa get one on the rocks
with stares and snots from men wearing
cowboy hats and desperately fat belt buckles
papa imitates a gay man
mama is confused
dust for $85 a night
two travelers, one to return
headed for gold
but not for good

States run by with motive unknow
Dog rests her head on my lap as
we cross the line and I ask to
stand by the sign
both agree it is too dangerous
I weep and wish to open the doors
we do, and the air is different, like taking off a mask
I wanted to embrace the ground we now
walked on, with feverish kisses meant for the trees

Papa leaves and drives all the way back
with promises on his shoulders
while mama and I unpack boxes
silverware, bedsheets, posters
with the expectation of a return
that never happens

We collapse the boxes labeled fragile
open the shades, and stop waiting for
a man who isn’t traveling,
a place,
a destination.
Mia Oct 2013
Dear You,
I regret coming to see you on that fateful day.
You see, If I hadn't come to your place,
We wouldn't be stuck in a rut.

Dear You,
I wrote you a letter but its illegible,
You see,my tears spilled and mixed with the ink,
My shaking hand crumpled and tore the paper,
My thoughts folded in on themselves like a deflated ball.

Dear You,
Falling for you was the most painful thing I ever did.
I fell flat on my face and hurt my chest.
My heart pounded over and over,
I got the shakes like a reforming addict,
But still you wouldn't leave my system.

Dear You,
It's pretty hard to unknow someone that imprinted on you.
You are woven into my nerves, memories and thoughts.
You took me captive and I can't break free.

You destroyed me.

Dear You,
Teach me to forget you.
Unfurl your web from my every thought process.
See,I was okay without you once.
And I can learn to be without you.
Mikaila Sep 2014
Yesterday
I got a tattoo.
The artist had coppery hair
That slid into her eyes.
They were green
And I noticed that they changed color
From dark to light
Sometimes almost turquoise,
Sometimes mossy and deep.

She scared me right away because I wanted her hands on me.

We talked about art.
Then we talked about girls.
Then we talked about life
And how when she was young
They teased her for her Southern drawl.
I realized that was the music drawing me in to the sound of her voice-
The faintest remnant of an accent,
Just enough to touch my skin.
It was just a little rough, like velvet rubbed in the wrong direction.

She worked on my shoulder
And I would turn my head to watch her.
Even though I couldn't see the ink-
I could see her face,
Shadowed by the light above her,
Lips parted
Eyes focused and passionate.

It is very dangerous to watch an artist work
To look at her face.
You don't know how easy it is to love someone who holds beauty in their fingers, who molds and shapes it and brings it into the world.
You don't know until it's a possibility dancing in the air before you,
And suddenly you think you must've looked too long...

I tested this feeling, tried to find its limits and its dimension,
Tried to figure if it was solid or smoky.
I couldn't tell, but
I noticed her hands on me, gentle but firm,
And as she was lost in her art I realized that I WAS her art,
And what a way to feel alive, to be a canvas for someone's passion for life!
And I nearly shivered,
And I suddenly realized that I was leaning into her needle,
Subtly but undeniably
And I could not unknow the fact that the pain made me breathless not because it hurt
But because she was inflicting it
Molding me, changing me, making me art and reaching into me somehow.

Afterwards we talked for so long that I walked with her to her car.
She hugged me goodbye and it took me by surprise.
I wonder if she knew any of it.
I wonder if she enjoyed my skin the way it enjoyed her fingers.
I suppose
One way or another,
I will find out.
Cristina Mar 2015
I saw you too late
and maybe it's better this way
because
once you know, you can't unknow
that my mind screams to you
and my body screams for you
and
I hope that the dreams
about your lips
will never end
as well
as your laughter
that still resonates
in my eardrums.
go Diana!
Zachary Sep 2014
wooww this feels like heaven in a microphone
and a little x with no treasure unknow
open to all and only seen by few
its only because some take time
some reminisce when they rhyme
some contemplate how much time
it will take to be i am with mine
i ******* love it and will never lose it
this is me and how i use my fret
or get rid of my fret with my left
and count the notes on my board of twelve
that will never get old of math
the language is so understood we hardly need words to practice
beautiful as a mom on her first day of the job
better then when a husband isnt a cheating low life beat of a slob
better then calling my home phone and know they'll always pick up
i love all of this but nothing more then my
jan assen Feb 2011
writing is writing about nothing
nothing is writhing
so just started with nothing
and write it
like a sea of flames ******* to my mindless thoughs
life is nothing more then hell on ice
Love is something we all don't always need
nothing is the way we live our lives without knowing it
flames burn up in my heart will eat up my heart
writing just moves my throughs
the unknow lines of the pagar befor me
I can't stop, writing is my life, my life is writing
I will never stop
I am a ship
Steadily moving forward into an ocean of unknow promises
My strong heart pumping the heavy water
To propel me in the horizon
Tracing my path like an explorer

I am a sailor
A heart at sea
Lost into the depth of the abyss
I am not precious nor am I fragile I
Am neither one or the other I
Am undestructible

I am not the Titanic
I am the iceberg
And I make them all sink
D
O
W
N
Down down my cold body
Made of ice and crushing weight
I show them who owns the place

I am the ocean
I am heavier than the rest of the world
I am blue and green
Calm and stormy
When they try to tame me I push them down
Into my body I swallow them
For being too sure of their strengths they will disappear
Into my depthless heart
Long lost to that which will hold my eternal love
Land and water,
Caressing each other every second yet
Yet
Yet confined in our own beds of sand and ground
Forever held hostage of that which we give life to
Forever embracing the slight touch of a wave
The glowing sun warming my blood to heat up her skin of sand
Calling to the inhabitants of my ever moving body
To tickle the side of her sandy hand
With my love I bath her edges
With my rage I explode into a million droplets
Cursing the earth for this fate
Doomed to live forever together
Forver apart.
To the prophet,
the passivity of consciousness is exhausting.

The veil,
the biases,
understanding which is only seen with human eyes.

That is consciousness.

Consciousness obscures, because it is human.

The prophet sleeps, exhausted from listening but not hearing.

The prophet needs the soul to be active.
The activity of detachment.
God has a voice, not to be heard by consciousness.
Consciousness is to be human—
what the human sees,
what the human understands,
what happens when the human is aware,
the veil of consciousness that is the passivity of silence,
which the prophet must put away to hear.

The prophet seeks the purity of Creation,
to feel the moments
before the mist outside the garden descended to reveal nakedness.
The prophet needs to unknow what living has made the prophet acquire.

The prophet sleeps to strip away anything that is not Love.
To exist in ultimate vulnerability, unprotected in body and mind.
What remains when the prophet sleeps?

There God inhabits the prophet’s dreams.
Revealed by the unconscious.
Symbols etched in clarity,
dreams are not a cipher.
Asleep, unburdened, actively unconscious, what is left?
The prophet sleeps, and the world vanishes.
What happens to all the prophet loves when the prophet’s eyes are closed?

Those things are gone,
but Love remains.
Pure.
Love for what consciousness obscures.
The prophet dreams because that is where the prophet can be found
by God.
Loving God
and knowing God.

To the prophet,
dreams change consciousness
because the filter of consciousness is ephemeral,
but the sleeping, dreaming prophet
attaches to the eternal.
(c) 2019 Daniel H. Shulman
brooke Oct 2013
you cannot
unknow the
warmth of a
body.
(c) Brooke Otto

I can feel it in books.
jeffrey robin Jul 2010
the reaching.......
forth

the gentle eyes that
..................are there

so easily we turn from
the gaze
--------------

solitude may seem
like strength
for a while

but the danger

is unseen
and unknow
---------

searching for
"real images"

reaching forth with
silent kindness

our gentle eyes!

absorbing all fear
and our madness

always constant
in its .......
..........................................gaze

simply so that you'd know

that i see you

and love
Drake Manning Oct 2011
A new beginning
Unknow to the world
And unknown to myself
To truly be myself
When no one is there to see
Friends away family gone
I'm finally free again

— The End —