"unprotected" poems
1. A burden is the depression settling in around you like a rain cloud over only your head.
Walking from place to place soaking wet from the storm.
You are cold, you are sick, you are not okay.
2. A burden is the anxiety shaking your body until you feel like you might burst at the seams.
People can see that your hands won't stay still, and they stare.
You are trembling, you are scared, you are not okay.
3. A burden is the rumors your "best friend" has spread around the whole freshman class.
Secrets exposed to people you don't even know.
You are found out, you are alone, you are not okay.
4. A burden is the thought of suicide bouncing around your head.
The thought of death so good, yet so bad.
You are confused, you are conflicted, you are not okay.
5. A burden is reaching out for help and being punished.
No longer allowed to talk to those they told you would help.
You are lost, you are unprotected, you are not okay.
6. A burden is not a student who has experienced 1-5.
A student who yearns so much to get better, and just keeps getting pushed down.
A student who is terrified, who is lonely, who is not okay
7. You called yourself a mental health professional.
But 8. would never deal with this student yourself.
and 9. called her a burden to the entire campus.
But the campus is unaffected, the campus is stable, and the campus is okay.
So did you mean the campus would be better off without me?
Or that you would?
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 11:55 PM UTC
I sit here alone
wondering where my life is
where it all went wrong
despair haunts me
how I got involved
why I lost what love is
The days go on
just one at a time
waiting for the
goodbye to all the anxiety
to anger with myself
for surely I have suffered enough
through all these months
left unprotected
so lost
lost by your embrace
haunted by your words
I search around everywhere
for the passion and hopes of life
searching for the day chaos
no longer in my head
perhaps I won't feel so lost
I feel I am finding my way
Then
I want to scream..all I want to do is scream
I want my anger to go away
but its like a blazing flame
I want my despair to leave me
but I am drowning in pain
I want my sanity back
but I don't know where to find it
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 3:46 AM UTC
My name is *** and I have no friend, I infect unborn during labor and infents during breastfeeding ,teenage s during unprotected sex,adults with multiple partners, I don't choose colours.
I infect whites,blacks,coloured and Indian,people call me names,like 3 series, magama mathathu,koloi ya eliya,go slowly and I have no problem because I have one friend which is death,you fail to use my enermy condom,my friend will attack you.
please young generation upstain for I have no mercy,adults be faithful because I will pass like a chameleon and once I reach you,you will point your finger to witches and while doing that,you will be on the grave unknown.
get tested and stay loyal,me hlv my high point is ***** or viginal fluid so be careful little mistake I will get there and hide there till I end all off your immune system or in an easy way your white blood cells.
to win me is to condomise,be faithful, abstain or do it your self that's musterbation, wear gloves when helping any one because you may never know where I am hiding.
if you already have me talk to your health professionals ,if not I will finish you without knowledge, because I am a bio slim and I am in love with your blood.
to win me test before is too late because I will take you into your bed as you took that partner of yours and to me is gonna be hard to be awake.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 11:34 AM UTC
The Miner, Absolom
(a haibun)
green hill where sheep graze
white bones and coal, buried, held
seasons all the same
My grandfather worked in the mines from age thirteen to seventy. His life was closed in by mountains, the green one at the back, the dark looming one at the front and the pit head along the valley., winding the men in and out of the shaft, day after day, dawn until dusk when they came home singing
boots ring on the road
deep valley voices echo
backyard starlit smoke
.
They worked on their bellies or crouched, often in water for days, water that undermines rock. Shaft collapses where frequent. Life was cheap. He came home covered in coal dust to his wife and two sons, sons he was determined to keep out of the mines. Yet he loved that coal - coal that he always polished with care before lighting a fire, brushing dust off black diamond surfaces.
water breaks through rock
with wood and straining shoulders
man becomes the beam
He saved twenty lives that day, men he had known from boyhood. When his lungs were affected they laid him off, no pay, no pension, no life. He bought an insurance book with the money he had and every day he trudged over the mountains and valleys gathering pennies that would help to secure some livelihood to the widows who lost their men in the mines. He never told his wife that when a family couldn't pay he put the pennies in for them rather than leave them unprotected.
winter, summer, fall
the mountain hangs over all
tired to the backbone
When the mines were nationalised my grandfather went straight back to the coal face despite his age. He wasn't going to miss those days of glory. Safety was suddenly the watchword and changes were made very fast. Hot showers were installed at the pit head and the miners came home clean at last.
men stripped to the skin
hot water, steam, baptised
brothers singing hymns
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC
Every brush is a first as a spark to a fire;
though the ashes still fall from limb and leaf,
each blaze sizzles an original melody:
forever unique and soulfully sole.
A delicate comfort envelopes me,
wreathing my pieces with a gentle autumn breeze,
mending me whole when I was never broken.
Her ambiance dances as rays of shattered moonlight,
slipping beneath a sky of the arctic dawn.
She gathers my fragments,
even when they had never been chipped away.
I lay unprotected, yet entirely safe.
She bends until the space separating us is airless with tender yearning.
I taste a thin sea-foam of maple sugar.
Dyspnoea remains fluid in our slumberous desire.
When I close my eyes, submitting to the quiet rush,
I am welcomed by an island universe.
Stardust spirals as the cosmos beams above our heads.
A sylvan petrichor swirls about the fall
as I am consumed with pure euphoria.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
Then out of nowhere and at once, the voice stopped.
No lingering feeling of self hate
The questions
The pondering
It all came to a halt
A thing that’s been with me all these years
Came to an abrupt end
Not bitter
Not sweet
Just end
An ending i’ve been hoping, but not waiting on
I didn’t know that there was such a thing
As an end to it
A blabbering, mumbling sorrow of self pity
Or just a mere convenience of a lexicon with words to degrade myself
A daily reminder of how worthless I was
So I would’ve never forgotten my reason
A reason never explained
Never cared for
With a reach of a sovereign hand I touch the notes
Floundering through the air
Playing a floating piano
“A river flows in you”
Caring for unprotected skin
I was waiting for a different ending
An abrupt ending, not like this one
Fingernails not bitten off bleeding
A curious feeling of relentlessness
Not used to the feeling of not being alone
It all came to a halt
A voice that’s been with me for years
A sadness of emptiness is nowhere to be found
A clue to a healthy mind
Maybe a fear of what could’ve been if not the voice left
A sort of trembling worry of who to now complain when I do wrong
An understatement of falling leaves from my tree
I know my family will be glad
Even though I haven’t ever told them bout the pain I contain
Who to be worthy shall never pass
Through my gates of hell
No one is worthy of that pain
Maybe not even me?
I think this was and end worth waiting for
Dec 9, 2022
Dec 9, 2022 at 6:27 PM UTC
Your arctic blue eyes
Light my heart on fire
Your cold flames of ice
Burn me
Yet I only feel a slight chill
As my heart erupts into electric blue flames
Your frost-bound lips brush against mine
And my frostbitten heart
Melts
But freezes again as they leave
And forms a shell as hard as stone
And as cold as ice
Yet you leave me
Cold and unprotected
The turquoise embers still smoldering
Maybe I should fight ice with ice
But your hypnotizing gaze
Pierces into my soul and ignites it once more
The world bows to my will and power
But do you?
I am invincible from everything
But from your soul of ice
Your cold flames
And your arctic blue eyes
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 3:43 AM UTC
If you had the opportunity to live a high-risk lifestyle, would you?
I'm not asking this to be derogatory, nor to be accusatory
I simply want you to think on
what it is
to live a high-risk lifestyle.
As a mass, we seem to think of it as an undesirable thing.
Now, isn't that just ******* quaint?
Probability favors a percentile:
That which is unique enough
to leave it's mark
on our realm.
That includes us.
Risk, unless done in ignorance, is the acceptance of probability
More specifically, the pursuit of the more improbable chance.
Perhaps when you think of high-risk, you think of constant parties
perhaps of ***** needles, and/or STIs
unprotected *** or doing psychedelics
but I ask you to ponder
just how high risk Life is to begin with:
Some wish to claim that Life is a granted gift
by some benevolent Father figure who has our back, (but not theirs)
but I say that's just selfish, arrogant and, frankly, quite foolish to claim.
This Universe was not made for us and us alone
as if we were some sort of Sims for a bipolar teenage boy on *******
We were not molded after anything intelligent
with the exception of the Universe and her Nature itself.
The probability of the Universe existing is not %100.
The probability of the particular combinations of atoms within the strands of DNA in your body
are not "guaranteed" to occur. Ever.
But they did.
They. Did.
They.
*******
Did.
As if the Universe were the soil to the roots of our existence
and Her Energy is as the water to the roots
and her Chemistry allows it all to happen.
And her physical laws, for lack of a better term, allow that to happen.
On top of that, you ******* exist! You! In particular!
With your experiences, thoughts and feelings, insights and interests, passions and even DNA!
You! Wonderful, temporary you!
Mortal you. Ethereal you. Spiritual you. Intrinsic you. Extrinsic you.
You exist, if nothing else, in a relative way.
There is no way to be certain.
What are the friggin' odds on anything existing at all, let alone you?
There is no way to be certain.
If you could bet on your existence, would you?
There is no way to be certain.
Nothing is granted; everything is permitted by the brain.
There is no way to be certain.
Perhaps it is deeper than that. I hope and think so,
yet, there is no way
to be
certain.
~Addendum!~
Statistically, about 93% of people accounted for by census information who have lived-
have died.
Statistically, that gives you a 7%ish chance of surviving this life!
That seems like a high-risk Life, to me.
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 12:38 PM UTC
Beauty out in the open, light falls on linoleum tiles like heel-worn stones
Windows to a sunny world sit at the end of locker-lined tunnels, beckoning beyond fluorescent mazes
Clotted with conversation, upperclassmen stroll like the elderly
Young blood doge or cling to the sides, scared of the critical runway that is us
Windows to a sunny world sit at the end of locker-lined tunnels, beckoning beyond fluorescent mazes
Eyes from all sides, thinking nothing yet are supplied by our own thoughts
Young blood doge or cling to the sides, scared of the critical runway that is us
Finding refuge in educational terrariums, an ecosystem that saves me from the weight
Eyes from all sides, thinking nothing yet are supplied by our own thoughts
Finding solace in stairwells, sealed off by doors and hold awkward opportunities
Finding refuge in educational terrariums, an ecosystem that saves me from the weight
Clanging like a child’s cry releases stress like floodgates, another trip into the shark tank
Finding solace in stairwells, sealed off by doors and hold awkward opportunities
Open doors that are actually closed; they are like aquariums – no tapping on the glass please.
Clanging like a child’s cry releases stress like floodgates, another trip into the shark tank
The longer I stay the more I wish to leave, away from substituted confrontations
Open doors that are actually closed; they are like aquariums – no tapping on the glass please.
Prejudice like heavy rain beats at my skin and soaks my clothes - but I know it was I who brought the downpour
The longer I stay the more I wish to leave, away from substituted confrontations
Must comparisons be so obvious when I walk alone, unprotected? They are lucky to have such equals to act as parents; they hold each other’s hands to keep from drowning
Prejudice like heavy rain beats at my skin and soaks my clothes – but I know it was I who brought the downpour
They pull like vultures at flesh; I am not allowed to wrap myself in hurricanes while out in the open
Must comparisons be so obvious when I walk alone, unprotected? They are lucky to have such equals to act as parents; they hold each other’s hands to keep from drowning
Ignorance is bliss, they say, and truth that is here – the less you know the less hate you bear the weight of.
They pull like vultures at flesh; I am not allowed to wrap myself in hurricanes while out in the open
Look down, one foot – and then the other!
Ignorance is bliss they say, and truth that is here – the less you know the less hate you bear the weight of.
Anger and sadness, guilt and fear turn like Viewmaster slides lit up by the sun
Or am I on my own here? Each boy's path runs along each other like long-exposure stars, leaving streaks between the darkness.
Jun 26, 2010
Jun 26, 2010 at 10:48 PM UTC
Riding the air
In dark morning
A steady current of rain
Descends
Upon everything
The fir tree
The house roof
My dogs fur
The empty Ash tree
The fallen leaves
Brown, red, yellow, orange
The bird feeder catches the water As does the bird bath
The puddles
The street
The cement
My head
My ears hear each
Multitude of patterned drops
In apparent chaos
Reminds me of the
The synapses in my brain
Circuitry, each drop a connection from
Dendrite to dentride
Messages of the unknown
Of falling to earth
Of vulnerable life
Unprotected.
The unhoused, in the cool soaked air of December. Will you remain blessed?
Will you spread your joy in the patter of rain to those who bare the rain in their skin, on their dampened clothes? Adding a chill.
Will today you find some without a home
Bringing tarps, blankets, source of heat, to those who listen
To the same rain
While they shiver
And you stay in your glow with your tidy wood burning fireplace. Stay comfortable? Risk giving for giving sake. What floods of love can you share in December rather than giving to
Your precious family, the left overs, the excesses
And give to charity that make each day another day for breath in rain from the heavens. I choose the rain. I could be the one in
The open now, soaking as I pen these words.
Hoping words of love, neutrality, non-judgement and altruism be the "church" we reside in. Drop by drop.
Over a hundred different sounds of rain brought to earth by gravity, in my receiving ears, and the tiny sparkles of light reflected upon the light from the street lamp shining upon concrete saturated by this extended morning rain.
Dec 3, 2023
Dec 3, 2023 at 9:10 AM UTC
People in essence are spiderwebs
Each so fragile and beautiful
Yet so strong and full of purpose
Each molecule is connected by a strand of the web
Each thought intersected
Woven into another
Yet separate, unique
There are no two alike
Though many are bland
So distasteful
Never living out their full potential
Instead being destroyed by tiny things
The fears and doubts that eat away at the delicate strands
Still someway somehow the rare few so complicated
Protected so carefully by their creators
Manage to hold their true form
Even for a second in time
They capture drops of inspiration like dew
As the sunlight fades the useless webs left unprotected
It also catches hold of the glimmer of inspiration
Suddenly transformed into a shining brilliant treasure
The web can maintain these inspirations
Build them into anything they desire
Or they may allow them to simply lay in shadow
Weighing them down
Until they come crashing from their position of glory
To a simple puddle of ruin
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 1:24 PM UTC
When you smile
Your teeth tell a story
Of never ending words
And endless punctuation.
When you smile,
I can smell your breath
Wreaking of every stale cigarette
And every stale memory
That has ever polluted your tongue
And that you continue to relive
And that stain every word
That you let spill
Recklessly
From what you call a mouth.
Every time you flash that
Maybelline painted smile
I pity what you were born with
Every time you smile,
I cant help but feel smug
My smile doesn’t stain my words
Betraying my secrets
My displayed sense of happiness is neither false
Nor does it stretch on forever
Like some bad Friday night
With a bad date
In a bad place
That you call “fun”.
My smile in not tainted
By a lifestyle the breeds regret
With all it’s unprotected endeavors.
But somehow
With all your flaws
Your inability to make a
Self preserving decision
You still remain victorious.
Over my honest to goodness
Absolute genuine attempts
At legitimacy.
Nov 18, 2011
Nov 18, 2011 at 10:33 AM UTC
Jackie Robinson is exalted
as the first Black man to play,
but far fewer fans remember Glenn Burke,
the first ballplayer openly gay.
Like Jackie, he played for the Dodgers-
(different coast and a different time.)
Glenn came up to the Majors
In the summer of 79’
Burke was strong and tall and fast
And some teammates called him “ King Kong”
Though he roomed with Reggie Smith on the road
most nights Reggie Smith slept alone.
Burke befriended Young Tommy Lasorda
which was why he was traded away.
Old Lasorda couldn’t deal with the rumors,
Nor acknowledge his own son was gay.
Glenn Burke rode the pines while in Oakland
Billy Martin never gave him much chance
When Burke injured his leg in Spring Training
That ended his time at the dance.
He drifted, his playing days over,
He used, he stole and did time.
An accident left him a *******
Unprotected *** ended his line.
No shock was the A.I.D.s diagnosis-
His sister had long known he was gay.
When she took him in he was dying
when all others turned him away.
Sandy Alderson, with the Athletics,
took pity on Burke in despair.
The team paid for his A.I.D.S. medication
and covered the cost of his care.
Sad is the fate of the Athlete unsung,
dying apart from his team.
Glenn Burke showed that a gay man could play,
That a Gay Athlete also can dream.
Glenn Burke passed a long time ago
But his story deserves to be told.
He said when your suffering, dying of A.I.D.S.
Even days in the summer are cold.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 12:03 PM UTC
My questions go unanswered.
My words ignored.
My presence overlooked.
Myself invisible to the eyes of others.
In a sty of stench.
In her own ***** she is drenched.
The reason I crossed two states borders.
Pack rat hoarder.
Without organization of order.
Out lived my heart hesitated.
My life dictated.
By a **** "mom" who dominates.
Controlling with my child as leverage.
She holds us hostage.
In her cobwebbed hellhole of dust.
Mold, ***** stench, mildew, & rust.
She is no one to ever trust.
I have alot to complain about & fuss.
Neglected, unprotected,& disrespected.
Taken for granted & unappreciated.
Unknown but senselessly hated.
For love or friendship I waited.
No one ever asked me to be dated.
My life I lived & created.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 2:39 PM UTC
Snoring gangling giant,
Slumbering away on a snowy
night.
Spoil of war unprotected,
Opening ways for ingress of
worrisome infiltrated
interlopers.
Remember the lord of Philistine
Samusini,
Who returned not from the
seductive antics of his
mistress,
Perished in the furnace fire of
frustration,
And drowned in the Laguna of
no return
Slumbering hindered the move
of the water.
Howling of devourers enclosed
your shack.
Heterocercal caudal fins of
sharks prevented the sailing
of ships.
Wolfished wailing of tidal waves
consumed the anchorage
ground.
And the apparition of foes
lurked-up in darkness like
the foehn on the Alps.
Awake before the devastating
night owl.
Awake from the abyss of deep
slumber.
Awake before the cockcrow,
When darkness of defeats
Controls the reigns of night.
Snoring gangling giant,
Awake unto light.
Dec 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018 at 6:40 AM UTC
Something about being 151 miles from home
walking around barefoot all day
in Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, California
wearing a vest and some black cotton pants,
drinking good Cabernet and lots of water,
eating homemade pasta salad and chicken sandwiches,
in the early-Autumn Summer-esque temperatures,
the third day of the 2013 Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival,
witnessing Gogol Bordello and The Devil Makes Three,
with my great Friends, and also Roomates, Abdul and his Wife,
and their friend and her 20 month old Son
makes me feel sort of ... *****
Funny how that works;
Unprotected feet on very Public grounds
Unprotected feet on verily treded grounds;
Going barefoot is nice, though.
(Except the ******* sidewalks, incidentally.
Even the streets are nicer to walk on barefoot. Even pineneedles!
I am disappointed, San Francisco! I thought you were on the side of the hippies!)
If anything was learned from the Sixties,
it's that unprotected anything
in San Francisco
is easily a hazard.
-
Now, that was a ******* amazing day.
Now; to the shower and then directly the **** to bed!
Away!
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 2:39 AM UTC
Strange place, strange ways, each stay away!
Then why are there two roads to take?
The maps and paths, and followed tracks.
And Google, Waze, we trust their facts.
Turn left, turn right we let it steer.
To miss a turn, we start to fear.
Across to tolls, collect control.
Like little soldiers, do as told.
Planned flights and crowds, comfort in traps.
Are we confined in our skin wraps?
Some lost, pretend to just be found.
Some found, act lost, pretty profound.
To take that step, the unprotected.
To turn towards, the unexpected.
A wasteful plan, we must forget it.
Insane repeat, and do we test it?
Misdirection, to find us love.
Misdirection, to find us trends.
Misdirection, finds ideas.
Misdirection, to find us friends.
Misdirection to free in stress.
Misdirection leaves no regrets.
Let one misdirection find you.
Let one misdirection guide you.
Let one misdirection define
And be the reason, you are you.
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 12:28 PM UTC
If I could do anything
Anything at all for you
I would save you
I would save you from
The torment that you feel
The constant feeling of failure
The way that you hate yourself
The way that you hate other people
The sad poems that tear me to shreds each and every time I read them
I would wipe that pain away
Wipe all the sadness and replaced it with joy
Take all that pain and turn it into love
Make you feel safe again
Make you feel whole not just a shadow of what you once were
But I can't
I am the aggressor
I make you feel the pain
I take you and break you down
I take your heart and **** it right in front of you
I make you feel cold, unprotected
I warp your world
I warp your self-perception
If I saw a shooting star
Or if God asked me what I could wish
I would wish that I could save you
But that sort of thing isn't realistic
I can't save you
But someone else will
I just hope it won't be too late
And that it's the right One
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
Gotta love these perfect imperfections,
Looking both ways,
Always got me second guessing.
Wondering if this is all just a lesson.
Is this all just a lesson?
Got so many goals but I’m just not that invested.
Writing down all these words,
Hoping they are effective,
Love me or hate me but I’m still my biggest critique,
And anxiety got me spinning more out of control than a fidget,
With existential crisis’s filling up my brain with so many questions.
Who am I really? How good is my intentions.
I have a very passionate soul,
Yet I can still be crippled by depression.
But I try to stay positive and count all of my blessings.
I can fall face first over a hundred times,
But still get back up each time more determined and strengthened.
I’ve come to the conclusion that nothing gets done by just stressing,
For I need to discern the lessons from these seasons.
And knowing when to reach out to others when it feels like I’m sinking.
Trust me when I say you just gotta hold on and keep breathing.
Hold on and keep breathing.
Gotta love these perfect imperfections,
Looking both ways,
Always got me second guessing,
Wondering if this all just a lesson?
Is this all just a lesson?
I may not know where this road is headed,
Trusting these lyrics bring hope to those that feel neglected.
For I know how it feels to be disjointed from a society that just doesn’t get it.
Which may make you feel like you just want to end it,
For the pain is just so far embedded,
And if you’re skin is coloured your left unprotected.
Prescribed drugs that are either force fed or injected.
However, I refuse to be controlled or to be tormented,
Nor do I care if people are offended,
For I will decide where I’m headed,
And I will never sacrifice my objectives!
No longer will I be subjected as a suspect to be tested.
You can try to strip me naked,
But you can’t strip my individuality or my perspectives!
I’ve come to love my perfect imperfections,
And to count all of my blessings.
Even when I feel like I’m drowning,
I’ll will hold on and keep breathing.
Gotta love these perfect imperfections,
Looking both ways,
Always got me second guessing,
Wondering if this all just a lesson?
Is this all just a lesson?
Gotta love these perfect imperfections,
Looking both ways,
Always got me second guessing,
Wondering if this all just a lesson?
Either way I’m thankful for these lessons.
May 20, 2020
May 20, 2020 at 5:13 PM UTC
[Sidra of the Stars]
a goddess has awakened
eyes slowly open
penetrating...
light reflects off the irises
(recessive blue alleles on chromosome 15)
my name is Sidra
and I will not be diverted.
-
I stand under sol
I stand under the earth's satellite
I stand in the vale.
-
look upon my feet
the fine lines of support
and strength of design
golden light showers
my long legs
strong and graceful
gaze upon my curves...
silky
ample
hypnotic
look at my golden arms
that comfort babes
dig into the earth
and create abstractions
hands and fingers of elegance
given to me by my grandmother
nails to claw and hands to hold
look at my long neck
draped in silver metal and black glass
falling between my *******
hips compliment the
curve of my spine and
the upward tilt of my chin
my hair is a golden light
shining over hoops of silver
and diamond studs
crystal pierces my nose
lips soft and full
eyes lined in black, never faltering
-
this goddess is aware
conscious
enlightened
eager.
-
I will not abide
silence
undeserved
because you lack the courage
to face me.
I will not abide
deception
manipulation
or syrupy black selfishness.
I will not abide
injustice
mockery
or ultimatums.
I will not abide
misrepresentation
vagueness
or weakness.
-
I am Sidra
of
the stars
of
the sky
of
the night
-
I move swiftly in the night
eyes bright
a creator
a lover
a muse
thoughts align
images swirl
pen to paper
my body moves
sensuous and confident
music booms
lips curve upwards
-
the day descends with
distractions pulling awareness
into waves of concentration
tiny fragments of
thoughts and ideas
begin to build
for later contemplation
-
I know the minds of men.
I will not be diverted.
My power has been revealed.
I will protect the unprotected
**And I will stand
Made of stars
And unleash Hell.**
-
I will reign terror on your ego
and bring the sword down
on your garishness.
Naked and ******** on my warhorse
I will strike you down with silver spear
and you will pay for your misdeeds.
In all my thundering beauty
with nothing but logic and art
I will slam you to the wall
and declare you a fool.
-
I am Sidra of the Stars
I stand in the vale
I will not be diverted.
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 1:07 AM UTC
In haste...
Behind
Our footprints
Were the scattered emptiness
Of the memories
Of them
On the shores
She left the three parties of us
Me, Samantha
And our traveler friend
They were play things for sunset fares,
She said.
Just yesterday
They were happy to be here
The young flowers now scattered about
This beach shore
Too young to be plucked
Happy to grow up into one party of laughter!
That's how we remember they were here
That's how to plant graveside flowers
For the dead
They were play things for sunset fares
They were not soldiers
They were unprotected, unfed, afraid children and women.
They were not warriors
That's how to plant graveside flowers
That's how we have kept them forever
In our hearts..
You are not forgotten
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 11:53 AM UTC
I miss
the forest of
your magic
as it winds its
tattooed way
through the
serrated textures
of nightfall
all up inside
my vertebrae
the soft wind
rustling in your
elms,
outstretched to me
like arms
as stars burn through
this brewing sky
in molten,
fiery charms
They beckon to me
unexpected
in quiet
apertures of subtle
they sneak upon me,
unprotected,
when I'm sunken
in my tunnel
and sometimes
in the
quiet stream
of the lonely, sacred night
I hear a whisper
whirring soft
as it permeates
my spine
I let it take me over
as I sit,
slumped,
in the bath
it creeps and seethes
over my wet skin
eats out my silent wrath
I let it
fill my senses
as I walk inside
the deep
and on wooded paths
of solitude's carpet of leaves
when I feel
no soul is watching
the deer start shyly peeking,
and lynx resume their stalking
then long slashes
of ache
are reawakened
from their lair
snaking through my ribcage
choking up my hollowed air
yet, somehow
in the longing
of bottomless, falling space
I see in distant, faded visions:
the precious contours
of your face
and so,
like an enchanted
secret box
I open you,
inhale the confetti
of your floating stars
wave them over and through
my strands of vein,
my tripped out,
healing scars
your essence
penetrates
my presence
like misty mountain rains
seeps inside my pores
opens up
striations
of seismic,
writhing pain
Your invisibility
takes form
and then
in sudden,
whipped-up heat
it pours out in
honeyed rhythm
to our own
invisible beat
and just like that
I get taken.
Overcome
by slakes of love
rushing through my
arteries
like sweet
manna
from
above
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 5:58 PM UTC
The cows graze in their pasture
Subservient to their master
Who doesn’t move faster
To help avoid disaster
So the cows are on their own
To deal with snow
Those all alone
Completely froze
Yet those who know
To use the warm glow
Of company that showed
Survive temperature lows
The cows used to solitary grazing
Now begin embracing
To fight cold air they’re facing
That is life erasing
While frost is lacing
The grass once worth tasting
The winter refuses to yield
As snow builds in the fields
The cows’ cohesion is revealed
As they protect their veal
And forget to steal
To connect and heal
During this ordeal
In times of inclement weather
The cows huddle together
Like someone pulled a lever
That won’t stay locked forever
So eventually ties are severed
As summer comes
The dumber numb
Thinking they won
Soaking up sun
Knowing winter is done
They divide into ones
A flow line
Of the bovine
Slow grind
Shows flies
Grow wise
With no size
They devise
To go for eyes
Cows go blind
In their mind
And cannot find
Their herd in time
Pretty soon the irritating fleas
Give them mad cow disease
As they don’t look to please
But put the good on their knees
While they’re hiding in trees
And biting with absolute ease
Seeing the absence of immunities
From their lack of community
The lost independent
Weather defendants
Become repentant
When they hear encroaching
Thunder clouds approaching
The cows become hectic
From a storm electric
Their formation eclectic
So they feel unprotected
But a fence was erected
So they can’t join the dejected
And this lonely life they elected
Is sadly reflected
The lasso angler
Hassling wranglers
Unmasked as stranglers
Bring the herd together
As they pull a lever
That’ll stay locked forever
As the cows’ heads are severed
And the horns in their head
Stick around once they’re dead
As we eat what they were fed
While they made their own bed
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 6:18 PM UTC