"unstained" poems
In the murky depths of muck and mire
hope flickers in hearts
courageous enough to believe;
sending out ripples in the waters
like a domino effect rewound.
Insignificant seedlings to the cruel eye
filled with light and promise
as yet unseen turned
Fragile sprouts in healing green
reaching up and out
to rest hopes on the water front,
as if to console one another -
we are not alone.
Against all odds, bean of India,
Keep going –
Power through the sluggish resistance
Of this darkened plane.
Though life seems lost in loneliness
Listen closely,
Hear the Whispering rumours of life beyond the deep
Of basking in light and life
beneath the welcoming heat
of a dancing sun.
A triumphant act of faith indeed,
to content oneself with growing,
never really knowing
what lies beyond the darkness.
I weep for you
with joy, O little pocket of hope
as you propel yourself forward -
such strength, such courage
for one who as yet knows not
of that rosey happiness,
that snow white purity
that lies beneath your shell.
I stand in awe of you;
You with your absurd elegant beauty
tracing your journey
accepting it as part of yourself
embracing who you once were.
The original rags to riches tale;
Roots in putrid, ravenous foundations
yet you yourself remain unstained.
The journey every bit as beautiful
as your glorious destination –
a testimony to your essential self.
I see you take up your stance
Front and centre, finally ready
to declare yourself to the world.
Budding beauty of new life
awake! open your eyes, your heart,
you dont have to hide anymore
the world is missing who you are.
And time births healing and growth.
Every flower blooms at her own pace;
Tentatively unfolding - delicate and fragile still
with gentle colours begging will I do?
Caught up in a lighter life
becoming bolder, blessed, nurtured
blooming bright, opened out
hello world, here I am.
Your wary days drowned, you claim your space,
Fill your space,
Make it your own.
The ethereal splendour of your gentle petals
Succeeded only by the loveliness within,
As you build up your legacy of hope
So wonder will not be lost in the falling petals
but made more beautiful still
in the healing gifts,
in nourishing others,
in the gifts you give of yourself
back to the world.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 5:44 PM UTC
In Dwimordene, in Lorien
Seldom have walked the feet of Men,
Few mortal eyes have seen the light,
That lies there ever, long and bright.
Galadriel! Galadriel!
Clear is the water of your well,
White is the star in your white hand
Unmarrred, unstained is leaf and land,
In Dwimordene, in Lorien
More fair than thoughts of Mortal Men.
To Flammifer of Westernesse.
10.5k
I reminisce too much.
Besides, what else is there to do?
Remnants of the past, fragments
Still squirming in my conscience
In some vague room
A flicker of my smile, a candle, a black robe
And my button down shirt
Laid across the floor for you to step on
And you carefully tip toed
To catch me in time, but I wasn't falling
The seasons have passed exceedingly slowly
But now, I am smiling again
My nights are somehow less tormented
It is beautiful today and I have things to do
But before I leave and conquer the week
I pause, if only for a moment, in this sun lit room
I touch the French window
And leave you behind, one last time
Like shabby finger prints on unstained glass
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 3:01 AM UTC
Innocence is beauty, Innocence is rare;
Innocence is a wonderful thing to share.
Innocence is graceful, Innocence is elegant;
Innocence is the enchanting music the angels chant.
Innocence is what makes an adult from a child,
Innocence is where we came from before going wild.
Innocence is carefree and is not confined;
Innocence is sin-free, heart, body and mind.
Innocence is not ignorance nor naive,
Innocence is true and shouldn't be deceived.
Innocence is honesty, pure and white.
Innocence is unstained, the light of the night.
Innocence is worthless once it is gone,
Innocence is a gift given by One to one.
Innocence is cared for and cherished,
Innocence once given will fade away and perish.
Innocence is a treasure indescribable by literature,
Innocence is a word out of art and science, past or future.
Innocence is love, or so we thought before;
When innocence was with someone we don't even know anymore...
Jan 25, 2011
Jan 25, 2011 at 8:06 AM UTC
you are right to not believe
for you
the silent cries
that carry into the night
do not existence the volume
of your tv is adjusted
& everything becomes
a mute apparition
illuminated
but not heard.
you are right not to believe
for you
the sounds of gunshots
are the popping of fire crackers
after holiday barbecues
& the screams
come from parades of people
cajoling down side streets.
you are right not to believe
for you
the only hanging you know
exists in laundry whites
bleached towels are a must
for wiping hands
clean
& unstained
from the bloodied bodies
of loved ones.
you are right not to believe
for you
the world doesn't exist
beyond these bordered white picket fences
& bakes sales
until your mexican comes
to clean
suburbia
when will you realize
the war to be fought
runs beyond 5’o clock rush hour
& taking away your son’s ps4?
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
The heat and oxygen course through your lungs like a temporary flame
One sweet dull second of numbness
All they can see is an empty vessel; an unstained body, with from the looks of it, not a care in the world
But they are simply decomposing from the inside out
No doubt, they will be a platform of overt despair by the end of the night
The sight will give a writer something to write about, an empath something to cry about, and a lover something to worry about
Destruction is infused in every cell of their body
When it comes down to choice, there is not one
It feels to them as if the days inevitably, and relentlessly, cease to end in the immense amount of pain instilled in every ounce of their being
Dreading tomorrow as if it's a terminal sickness
Once you have lost hope, it seems there is no fire left to burn
The time that they have left in the world will be filled with cheap cigarettes, Irish car bombs, and lifeless friends
Closely comparable to a dying tree; close to expired, and still so beautiful
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 5:09 PM UTC
I'm not the same person I was when you left; and honestly I don't know how I feel about that.
I'm not broken, lost, or confused.
But on the other hand, I'm not at peace, whole, or content either.
I'm not the same girl who would welcome anyone with open arms.
I see the world differently now.
I see the pain... I feel the pain.
We're in a battlefield.
The confusion and sorrow are like fresh wounds to my eyes.
I see them in everyone.
You used to tell me that I lit up the world with my smile.
That however, is a talent I no longer posses.
I'm not fearless anymore.
I am not the girl who continues to see the world with unstained glasses.
The ones I wear are covered with dried tears, residue from heartbreak,
loss and love.
The way I see the world is no longer through the eyes of a 15 year old girl who heard of love but experienced it.
I'm not the same person I used to be.
I'm cautious, calculated, careful.
I realize that even now the decisions I make will last me a lifetime.
It has become real to me: this world.
It has come alive to me.
Understand, that if I could go back and be the girl you knew - the girl who loved you - I wouldn't.
She was naive and uneducated in the world. I still have so much to learn, but I hope I never again become that girl.
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 12:15 AM UTC
She wanted to remain pure,
unstained,
unpoked.
She had toyed with getting a tattoo
but realised it wasn’t
individual anymore.
But she was in need of validation.
Was she past her peak? She’s still cool right?
The needle stuck into her skin like the scent of an old lover. It left a fizzy sensation behind.
The ink spread.
She kept poking,
stabbing,
stick n poking.
What emerged was a star.
Startled,
strained by Tar,
scarred,
her sparkle faded.
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 7:22 PM UTC
I straightened my tie,
my noose of choice.
I surveyed the nerves,
boutonnières,
cuff links and best men
dressed then stressed
over punctuality.
**
I am late in my white dress,
my unstained reminder.
I rehearsed the vows,
poses, held my roses
and had my ladies
in waiting,
waiting.
**
I wait at the archway,
stiff, starched and
looking rented
for the occasion
**
I wait for my turn
to walk the plank,
the aisle spans oceans
and I am unsure.
**
I am unsure
but it is too late.
She sees my face and
searching behind
her veil for sympathetic
shared fear.
**
I give my father a mechanic kiss,
I twist and face my future.
**
I smile and wince,
I take her trembling hand,
I find her eyes,
I see my future.
**
I smile and wince,
He takes my trembling hand,
He finds my eyes,
I see no future.
**
Jul 11, 2010
Jul 11, 2010 at 6:34 PM UTC
A trivial thought like stabbing daggers
Sets the path to our devastation
A maze of chaos from simple matters
Failing paths of imagination
Not every quote you read is a masterpiece of wisdom
Not every act that’s weird is an evil conspiracy
Demons inside her head, their kingdom
Celebrate every victorious fallacy
Persuading herself by hollow theories
Fooling herself by un-ignored “if”s
Recollecting only the worst memories
Deciding the truth, deadly and stiff
Stop creating this useless drama!
Can’t you see it’s tearing us apart?
‘Cause every self-destructive trauma
Crushes again my exhausted heart
Fire is put out by heavy pouring rain
Arms protect from thoughts too scary
Why can’t I relieve your pain?
Why can’t I be your sanctuary?
My shoulder offers affection
To be gained
And has no intention
To feint
Come rest your eyes
And faint
You will find paradise
Unstained
Come near my dear
Let me lift your worries for you
Stay with me here
Let all anxiety leave you
You will see clear
No demons to haunt you
Dissolve your fear
In my arms around you
~Epic Monkey
May 2013
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 2:25 PM UTC
When we look at what is already spoken,
the words cannot live
if contained.
Hope becomes all we want
as our souls become awake
in air unstained.
If we stop and count the words
they become elusive
and still hours later
we remain unconscious. As if we are asleep
exhaling each fragment
unresponsive.
Can we wear our heart on the sleeve
of our emotions
to keep our body warm and moving?
When do we realize
where the point of here
is beyond that which is soothing?
If we talk about that which we love
giving our full attention
to each dream as it exists.
Would our laughter
become a shade of secrets
or a storm of words wrapped as a gift?
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
Awe-inducing presence
Beguiling beauty
Calm after the storm
Delicate and divine
Effervescent being
Flames dancing in the sky
God-fearing
Heart unstained by impurity
Interstellar
Joy in the midst of misery
Kind, too kind for her sake
Lovely smile
Magnetic woman
Never says never
Oblivious to love
Pure white
Quick-wit and sharp
Rain during the drought
Starry, starry eyes
Thunderstorms
Unwavering love
Virtuoso
Wholehearted
Xenon, gold, and neon
Yuletide happiness
Zigzag feelings
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 1:08 PM UTC
VIII
What can I give thee back, O liberal
And princely giver, who hast brought the gold
And purple of thine heart, unstained, untold,
And laid them on the outside of the-wall
For such as I to take or leave withal,
In unexpected largesse? am I cold,
Ungrateful, that for these most manifold
High gifts, I render nothing back at all?
Not so; not cold,—but very poor instead.
Ask God who knows. For frequent tears have run
The colors from my life, and left so dead
And pale a stuff, it were not fitly done
To give the same as pillow to thy head.
Go farther! let it serve to trample on.
1.8k
You said that I held my fate in my hands.
That everything happens for a reason.
Well I want you to know that this is what I'm choosing.
Because of you the world only looks worthy of destruction.
And I am going to burn this world down with me.
I choose to die the villain.
No ******* out there can tell me that there is still hope for me.
This is what I chose.
And I plan not to die a hero, no.
I'm going out with revenge served cold.
With drying blood on my hands.
Fallen from heaven, I hit the ground conscience first.
So if fate is really predestined then congratulations.
I am who I am now.
You can't save me.
This was always meant to be from the first moment I graced this world with my unstained eyes.
I welcome you to watch this Godforsaken Earth burn with me and you in it.
Be my guest, let's watch the world end.
-Kore
Jun 15, 2021
Jun 15, 2021 at 10:40 PM UTC
I curse the mind's divine plan
as I lay in valley's low
gazing upon myself a god
and a perfect smile aglow
whilst I toil in my misery
my soul tied with stones
my statue's likeness stands above
revolted at his lesser clone
Look at how he humbly gloats
His skin golden perfection
A mind more clear than unstained glass
A body crafted in circumspection
but though I pull my nails
with a revised renewed edition
with every labored detail
capturing perfection
this tortuous image
calms my heart
stabbing it with hope
for a better start
and I hear whispers in my valley
selling nectars of complacency
spinning truths from fantasy
of how I too one day may be
but as my hands try to summit
the hill soars ever higher
and my mind it pities me below
Remaining on my pyre
and my blood steams
and irrational rashes grow
as I come to realize
I'll forever remain below
Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 1:48 AM UTC
The motions--
We're going through emotions (right?)
'Cuz there's not a better thing
to do on Sunday
night. This place has lost
religion
ritualistically
And I think, realistically, it's time to do
the same
Overbooked, yet, overlooked
And on the hook for debts
outstanding
But you commanded my attention
So stay unstained
I've been attaining second chances
for unforeseen circumstances
So I'll drum if you keep dancing
Just stay unstained
Intentions--
Can undergo declension
Yours and Mine are genitive
on dative Friday
nights. Some folks can lose
their vision
visionarily
So I'd say, cautionarily, "forget to do
the same."
Aptitude for rectitude:
That may be shrewd, and yet--
while prudent
Rings no bells 'til midnight chimes out one
more mortal year
Afeared, I fear, ad mortum. But we
just keep pounding on pulsing heads
So let's drum on; keep on dancing--
Remain unstained.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 7:08 PM UTC
The beauty is still unsurpassed..
The pious heart is still unbiased..
The purity is still unblemished..
The charm is still unabashed..
The grace is still unabandoned..
The brilliance is still unabused..
The serenity is still unabhorred..
The spark is still unblazed..
The ***** is still unstained
Just an abrasive scratched the vignette..,
But the portrait is still a masterpiece..!!!!
O woman..
You are still as elegant and dignified!!!
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 11:04 AM UTC
We are not just similar
We are parallel !
In this cruel world of all kinds of vectors
It's either an invariable distance
Or a fully superposed confusion
No single intersection
And we lie there
stubborn and hopeless
Craving a translation
We are not just similar
We are parallel !
Our limits confined to a single plane
As life flows in all directions
We miss the marvels around us
In every remaining dimension
And we lie there
Blind and shameless
Craving a translation
Louder words
Barely heard
Answers clouded by blur of ignorance
Questions falsely trigger negative emotion
Chaos in misplaced transference
As mazes form from conversation
And we lie there
Deaf and clueless
Craving a translation
Not even a cascade of tears
Can bend us to converge
Tried turning the other cheek
We failed again to merge
Until one day, we exhaust our energy
Shields get broken, armor gets heavy
Only our inner demons left unstained
But they decided to flee our weak body
So we **** the pride with a suffocating hug
Bend the frown with a devastating kiss
Poison the anger by our cleansing drug
We let go of our ego, off to our bliss
And we lie there
Victorious and united
Achieving a translation
Then days go by as we oscillate
to the finish line in this dance of fate
We survive, it seems
We relive on the extremes
Aligned in happiness
or divergent in depression
In mystical perfection
or in catatonic emptiness
Stubborn and stiff
Blind and deaf
Clueless, shameless, hopeless
Craving irreversible translation
But we are not just similar
We are parallel !
~Epic Monkey
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 11:20 AM UTC
She bleeds through veins that have been retrofitted for our future,
A running methamphetamine that never tires and always keeps steady pulse,
Excitedly,
Beating,
Torn blue jeans, pant legs rolled up into shorts,
Slaving,
It isn’t about me,
It isn’t about me,
Selfless smile,
It isn’t about me.
A **** hunch, quizzing over an unstained oak desk of etchings,
First place to my second centered in the middle.
A posture for quizzing- a leaning first grader.
None greater.
If she is overcast, there exists none grayer.
But I dig deep and find a kaleidoscope,
At that moment, I look at the light,
It’s true,
It isn’t about me.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 5:22 PM UTC
In frigid shadows of a broken vow,
My heart, a prisoner, in silence cries.
Forced to yield, unseen chains bind me now,
Where love's cold absence breeds a storm that sighs.
She walks unburdened, draped in self-made light,
A queen unstained by tears my spirit weeps.
My yearnings mocked, a one-sided plight,
Betrayal's embers where true passion sleeps.
A barren wasteland, where our dreams lay slain,
Hope's fragile bud choked by a loveless rain.
My silent screams unheard, a whispered pain,
Lost in the darkness, love's deceptive chain.
Isolation's grip, a serpent's cold embrace,
Tightens around me, fueled by her cold grace.
I reach out, grasping for a fleeting trace,
Of the love we once shared, now displaced.
Invisible chains bind me to the past,
Memories haunt me, can't escape at last.
Like a ghost, I wander lost, outcast,
Trapped in a love that couldn't ever last.
Each link in the chain is a bitter regret,
Moments lost forever, I can't forget.
I'm shackled to a love I can't reset,
Tangled in a web of love and debt.
The weight of the chains bears down on my soul,
A heavy burden I can't control.
I long to break free, to finally be whole,
But the chains hold tight, taking their toll.
Unseen chains, invisible but strong,
Bind me to a love that's gone so wrong.
I'm trapped in a cycle, where I don't belong,
A prisoner of love's haunting song.
I search for a key to unlock the chains,
To free myself from these loveless pains.
But the chains remain, a reminder of stains,
Of a love lost in sorrowful refrains.
I long for freedom, for release from this plight,
To soar like a bird in the clear, free light.
To break these chains that bind me so tight,
And finally find peace in the still of night.
But until that day comes, I'll endure the pain,
Of living with these unseen chains.
Bound to a love that's left me drained,
Haunted by memories that still remain.
Unseen chains, a burden unseen,
A weight that crushes all my dreams.
But I'll keep on fighting, despite how it seems,
For one day, I'll break free from these loveless schemes.
Jan 25, 2025
Jan 25, 2025 at 4:59 PM UTC
There is a valley in between my *******
Taut skin the color of unstained rosewood
Just left of the center is a nearly systemically deep brown dot
I've heard you say it was beautiful
I've felt your fingers trace its edges
I've melted as you've kissed the valley
And crumbled as you caused my breath to come in waves
The mountains on either side are lithe
Swaying as you stroke the sides of my valley
Tender and full
Full of hope for feeding a child with your lips
My eyes have followed as you've pressed your palm flat against my valley
My knees shook
My ankles trembled
My fist tightened
My body has become a tropical paradise
A vibrant valley
Full and tender
Rich with rosewood
Lonely and longing
Cautious as I wait on your next calamitous visit
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 9:21 PM UTC
the magnified, mascara applied
eyes of my skull
burn holes in my thighs
mulling over the size of this hull
i chunder my lunch and wonder of
everyone else
and if they're also laser beaming love
into themselves
or if they're boundlessly born with it
unstained smiles, strained bites
maybe they're just born with it
no pained bile or insatiable appetites
either way, i hardly
can infer
if my stomach is
half empty
or half full
Sep 9, 2024
Sep 9, 2024 at 11:08 PM UTC
Is there a place somewhere known and yet unknown
where humans keep or lose their guilts
Is there a dumping hole or a snug
or a fierce incinerator blazing
That destroys or obliterates
human guilts
Is it a known some guilts carry comfortably and alone
just another thing for the holdall satchel bag or arm
Someday its worryingly heavy on the shoulders
other times it's just small and weightless
An accessory as any others
imperceptibly light
Is the heavy guilt or tons heavy ones like granite stone
a weary toil left in a storage or thrown over a cliff
What ever done guilts come with a personal receipt
bearing owners name time and number
Attached to owner and carried 24/7
marked as 'Non-Transferable'
Is your guilt or guilts bearable or carry-able like your phone
have you stored, hidden it or pushed down a crevice
What about the indelible receipt on your person
that which is there and rests on you
Does it flare like an incindaries
or just simmer quietly
Is your guilt a bedfellow that clings to your chest in a zone
whispering in tone foreboding and chills persistent
Or one that wades in and recedes like shore waves
perhaps it's a type like a central rigid statue
An unmovable edifice of horror
coated in fear and alarm
Is your guilt light and niggly, a Bonsai with no tall grown
did you amend paying a due and penanced did leave
And though the attached receipt still haunts you
least you know it will gradually fade away
Leaving truly tutoring imprints
Never to be repeated
Is your guilt a stranger yet unmet and your spirit happy flown
do you walk in salient steps with no recourse to remorse
And greet each morn with pleasantries to I, me and self
enthralled no rent paid for secret storage or a crevice
Just the one that stands before man and Creation
Held aloof by a Conscience unstained
Copyright@Laurence14th Aug2018.all rights reserved.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 8:11 PM UTC
I sat there staring at her from across the table
as we shared yet another quiet meal together,
observations buzzing around in my already crowded mind.
Her face looked clean and resheshed,
her hair soft and coifed and freshly washed,
her white gloves unstained and clamped snuggly
around her slender arms.
Would she noticed my threadbare coat,
the circles underneath my tired eyes,
the cloth cap that used to sit upon my head?
Was I truly good enough for her?
Her smile said yes, but the condescending
grimaces on the faces of her parents upstairs said
no.
I didn’t need to see them to know that they were there.
I just knew it. I just knew.
How discouraging.
I looked at her, watching her silently from across the table,
eating with one hand
and fumbling the lump in my pocket,
running my fingers over it,
meditating whether or not I was foolish enough
to claim her,
whether or not I was selfish enough
to want her to be mine.
I was a narcissist to even think of it.
What would her parents say?
I bit my lip and pulled the parcel out,
summoning her attention toward my hand,
eyes glowing with curiosity and anticipation.
I stood up, but paused.
Just say “Will you marry me?”
It’s that easy. Only four words. Just say it!
As I opened the box with numb fingers,
I began to stutter the words,
like my humble tongue had been enchanted with some
kind of curse.
Cowardice.
I slid the parcel back into my pocket,
having been defeated without even having fought.
The look in her eyes shifted and it took me a moment
to fully process what was going through my
beloved’s head.
As she slowly returned to her meal,
I recognized it as disappointment.
Somehow, the feeling was mutual.
Jan 7, 2011
Jan 7, 2011 at 11:36 AM UTC
For every bit of advice on the matter
For every warning and caution against it
He would still give his heart like a fool if he could
But time has made him bitter
Time has given him every moment he needed
To become wary of what he tells others
He has become a secretive creature
When it comes to those matters deepest to his concern
True, he sings and dances and seems carefree
True, he seems loving and compassionate
But inside he is as cold and sad as any might be
Too many times he has been lured to trust
Each time he has suffered for obliging so
Every hope for intimacy he has seen crushed
Every dream of companionship he watched shatter
Until only the one thing that gives him joy is left unstained
He has tried and tried to burn away the roots
Of mistrust, doubt and suspicion that have grown in him
That coiled and bound and climbed around his heart
Transfiguring him into a blind and numb man
Changed him as greatly as a storm does the coast
Made him afraid of all the capricious good of life
The changing tide of existence became his bane
So that he hides behind a terrible, glorious, painted mask
People see of him the truth he wishes to obtain
Thinking that perfect bliss in life is already his own
Believing that he may be so happy and do so alone
Not seeing how he craves to trust and feel it is well placed
Seeing instead a man who fears nothing for the lack of secrets
Not seeing the man who is unhappy in loneliness
Only viewing the caricature of his abandoned ambitions’ success
And he was worn the lie so long that is the only truth
His heart has turned to dust and gone
His soul sputters lamely against the sea of life
Too long he has waited to forgive and say it is so
Time has made him a hollow beast with a hollow shell
He will act and act alone and never be at ease
He will suffer and suffer alone and never know friends
He will die and die alone and have forgotten love
There will never be meaning to his words or deeds
He will never again have a soul to define himself with
Jul 24, 2010
Jul 24, 2010 at 5:00 PM UTC