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Tommy Johnson Dec 2013
You can hear the voices of our peers being silenced, ignored, shunned and distorted.
Staggering out of their bedroom doorways to the street corner to score a dime bag.
Bright, insightful millennials freezing in search of warmth from something to believe in that will encourage them to look forward to see another day.
Where our economy has made financial prudence clear when talking about education, yet price tags of university tuition's skyrocket.
The refused, the ones with hope but no money or scholarships; tread the streets with the echoes of electro house pulsing in their skulls.
Those who strip themselves down and shred their own morals to scraps just to find themselves and to see their own limitations.
Searching for answers to the unknown, to ascertain what they are, who they are and why.
Timid in high school, pushed along with nothing and no one to put their creative vigor into.
The squeakiest wheels that were never even considered to be given a good greasing.
Faculties giving them lethargic hellos on the first day of school, bestowing celebrated goodbyes to them on graduation day, diplomas in hand.
Now are the ones slumped over in a lackadaisical position contemplating how they can afford an education.
They work eight to ten at seven twenty five an hour Monday to Friday; and weekends staying in as not to blow their earnings.
Those who commute to university and balance a job with it, I applaud you.
The bewilderment of adulthood, the overabundance of pressure and responsibility.
Awakened from nightmares of lost opportunities, missed trains and lost contacts.
To step out of bed and splash water onto a severely distressed face and staring into a mirror with a despairing look.
Then hoping a bus to Garfield to bring back weight for all the embryonic smokers not yet at the point of make or break, just save up enough to pave my own way.
Gazing at the town on a roof top, chugging down the tenth…no…twelfth beer of the night wondering how this all happened.
Wild sensations of kissing an attractive stranger, the rush of touching on things never felt, tasting pleasures only the lucky have known.
The passionate, yet dissolute yearning for that ever eluding ******* adrenaline. Pounding, Pounding, Pounding until the culmination of energy has come.
Flip sided to those dizzying, tear jerking thoughts of suicide, annihilation of ones being, the contradictions of their faith in themselves and the people around them.
Unexplainable waves of anxiety crashing onto the shore of a diminutive island of optimism
Striving to look past the panic, the gloominess and fury that may or may not be present. But to remain composed and press forward to what awaits them.
Coffee keeps them going. Cup after cup, late night cramming every bit they can; into their caffeine driven psyches until the indisputable crash and failure.
Packs and packs of menthol cigarettes to calm their rattling nerves but at the same time killing them slowly. Their lives will seem shorter than the time it took to finish one bogey when death is near.
Marijuana induced ventures to run down burger shacks, laughing hysterical in the car ride, eyes heavy with a most ridiculous elastic grin extending from ear to ear. While inside millions of thoughts and realizations of consciously simple speculations and troubles become clear and unproblematic. So the joy is mirrored outside in.
LSD trips in Petruska dancing and singing in the rain! Making music, making love; playing pretend and creating art. Becoming a family while kicking back under the warmth of an illuminated tree on a cool fall night.
MDMA streaming through the body, everything is as it should be
Beautiful, lovely to touch, wondrous to stroke, marvelous to move.
To contact and connect, converse and converge with the dwelling desire to share what you feel with everyone for it would be selfish and unpleasant to keep it in.
Mushrooms oh the emotional overflow I need not say more but ****.
Then there are over the counter candies, Oxycontin, ******, Adderall and Xanax, painkillers and antidepressants. Ups, downs, side ways and backwards.
Selling addiction and dependency legally to kids. Making heroine, ******* and speed easily obtainable to them. Changing the names and giving out prescriptions so the parents can feel like they're actually helping their children but are subconsciously making it easier on themselves because they cannot handle the way their offsprings actually are. Some parents a feel it is the only way, I wish it wasn't so. Becoming zombies, mindless addicts before they even start to mature into puberty. I've seen it, firsthand front row.
Oh, the monotonous, mundane rituals and agendas of our lives. School, work, sleep eat, the sluggish schedules and repetitions of yesterday's conversations and redundancy of itineraries we had plotted months prior.
Same people, the constant faces of boredom that groan in apathy and hold the fear of complacency.
We talk about how hum drum out lives have become and what we could to put some color in our world but don’t.
We speak of how unfair the system is but ultimately confuse ourselves and everyone else due to lack or organization and dedication so nothing is changed.
We speak of breath taking women we want to share ****** fantasies with but can’t even muster enough courage to send a trivial friend request.
Texting away for hours trying to court those who now occupy our minds and possess our hearts hoping they may allow us to acquire their attention and affection. Calling them only to receive futile dial tones and know we are being evaded.
Weeping on and on for seemingly endless time frames of a dilapidated relationship that was so strained that a miniscule breeze could cause it to collapse but still clinging to every memory as if they were vital hieroglyphics depicting your very essence.
Brilliant theories blurted out in a drunken stupor.
Ingenious hypothesis shrouded in marijuana smoked out room.
Remembrance of friends long gone.
The marines, the navy.
The casualties of drug addiction.
The conquerors or their afflictions.
The scholars.
The insane locked away on the flight deck never to be seen again.
Teenage mothers unsure of themselves, abandoned by their families for they believe that they brought fictional shame upon the family’s name. The fate of the child is unclear but the mother’s everlasting love shines through any obscurities in its way.
Dear mother of the new born winter’s moon may the aura of life protect you and your baby.
The father gone without a trace.
He will never know his daughter.
And it will haunt him forever.
Parents bringing up their kids with values and morals, The Holy Bible, mantras and meditation, the Holy Quran, The Bhagavad Gita, and Upanishads. Islamic anecdotes and Jewish parables.
The names all different
The message the same
The stories unlike
Goals equivalent
Faith
Kabala, Scientology and Wicca
Amish and Mormons
All separate paths that intertwine and runoff each other then pool into the plateau of eternal life.
But do we have faith in our country, our government?
They do not have faith in us. Cameras on every street corner, FBI agents stalking social media, recordings of our personal lives and police brutality. 4th amendment where have you gone?
We say farewell to Oresko the last veteran of the last great war. And revisit the Arab spring, Al-Assad’s soldiers opening fire on innocent protesters, one hundred fifteen thousand lay dead. Bin laden dead, Hussein hanged, Gaddafi receiving every ounce of his comeuppance. War, terrorism, the fear of being attacked or is it an excuse to secure our nation's investments across the sea? Throwing trillions of dollars to keep the ****** machine cranking away, taxes, pensions, credit scores, insurance and annuities all cogs in the convoluted contraptions plight.
My dear friend contemplates this every night laying in bed, fetal position; the anxiety if having to be a part of this.
Falling apart on the inside but on the outside, an Adonis, *******, Casanova wanna be. Who worshiped the almighty dollar, gripping it so tightly until it made change, drank until he had his fill falling face first into the snow. The guy who lead on legions of clueless girls wearing their hearts on their sleeves not knowing he had a girlfriend the entire time. Arranging secret meetings in hidden gardens, streaking into the early morning. Driving to Ewing in his yellow Mustang to woo a sado masochistic girl. The chains and whips do nothing to him he is already numbed by the thrill. Then he comes home, lays in bed until one, with no job and having people pay for his meals.
He knows what he does and who he is wrong. He recites and regurgitates excuses endlessly. He cries because he knows he is weak, he knows he must fix himself. I sit on the edge of myself with my fingers crossed hoping maybe, maybe he will set himself straight.
My chum who can talk his way out of any confrontation and into a woman’s *******. Multitudes of amorous affairs in backrooms, backseats, front rows of movies theaters. Selfish, boastful and ignorant, yet woman fling themselves at him like catapulted boulders over a medieval battle field just to say hello. These girls blind to see what going on, for their eyes were taken by low self esteem. A need to be accepted, to feel wanted even only for fifteen minutes. Poor self image, daddy issues, anorexic razor blade slicing sirens screaming on about counted calories and social status. Their uncontrollable mental breakdowns and emotional collapse. Their uncles who ***** them, their parents who split up and confusing their definition of love and loyalty for the rest of their lives. Broken homes, domestic abuse and raised voices, sending jolts of fright into the young girl’s fragile minds. I send my sorrows to you ladies, to see such beautiful creatures suffer then be used and thrown away with the ****** that was just ****** deep into their *****.
Then I see women and men of marvelous stature, romantic in the streets holding everyone and everything in high regards. Finding beauty in anything and anyone. Enjoying every second as if the rapture was over head eating exotic foods from unheard of countries and cultures. Bouncing to the sound of whimsical , reverb ricochets and sense stimulating music. Huffing inspiration to create something out of thin air. Dancing to retired jazz and swing albums as if no time had past since their conception. Wearing bold colors and patterns, thrifty leather shoes or suede.
Dawning pre-owned blazers because why spend hundreds of dollars on new clothes just to look good but feel uncomfortable with a hole in your pocket. Dressing up but dressing down, so class yet urban I love it, chinos, pea coats and flannels so simple but chic.
At night they go to underground dens, sweaty bodies, loud music and freedom. Expressive manifestations glowing fueled with MDMA and other substances to further their enjoyment of the dark glorious occasion. Kandi kids sporting colorful bracelets, not watches for time is of no concern to them, they have all eternity they know that.
Going to book stores, coffee shops just to have some peace of mind and a moment of silence to themselves so that can weave the tapestry of imaginative innovation. Writing their own versions of the same story, endless doors of perception, reading news papers and taking it with a grain of salt. Watching the news on TV with a hand full of salt. Searching for the real story so they can know if the world they all live in is actually safe.
She who made her own way breaking hearts, rolling blunts and making deals. The flower child of the modern age, left the rainy days in search of radiant sunshine, idealistic. Reality was subjective, purple dyed hair, multicolored sweater with sandals on her feet. A ten inch bowl with bud from California packed in tightly. Coming from Dumont to Bergenfeild then on to Philly to Mount Vernon. Off to Astoria and the Heights. Now to Sweden laying in the grassy plains below the mountains. Good for you my friend whom I have loved, may fortunes of unsullied joy come to you and all you meet.
Since you’ve left I have encountered drunken burly firemen just trying to have a good time. Pounding down Pabst Blue Ribbon as if it were water; as if it were good tasting beer. But heroes none the less.
EMT's, young eighteen years old high school graduates, saving lives reviving people who are a mere inch close to death.
Sport stars getting scholarships thanks to their superior skills and strength.
Striking beauty school students who are into making the people of this world a little bit more beautiful on the outside.
All these people, successful, doing things. Departing to their desired destinations. I see inside them, they carry baggage, loneliness and insecurities. I can feel their guilt slowing them down. All have their loads but it’s the way they carry them that shows who they really are. And to me their all gems.
Not far in Paterson I watch the junkies limping across busy winding street, perusing a severely needed fix. “Diesel!” they shout beneath flickering streetlights, asking for spare change and if bold enough a ride to some shady sketchy place. I give them a dollar and politely decline. They’ll die without it. Vomiting up bile and blood, twitches and shivers are all you feel when it’s not in you. They cannot stop, they need help. Why not help them instead of “assisting” those who are homosexual? Cleansing so they can be granted entry to the kingdom of God. Looking down on people who have found love and understanding and a deep attraction to others who just so happen to share alike genitals.
Narrow minded uproars about the spread of AIDS, nonsense! The puritanical onslaught of those who want nothing more than the rest of us, love. "Gay", "****", "******", "queer", how about "kind", "funny", "genuine human being"? The right to be married and divorced should be an option for everyone to enjoy. The strains and hardships of matrimony are yours if you want them. If you don’t agree don’t hate or harm just allow them to be peacefully. Same goes for anything for that matter, Jehovah's going door to door, Mormons from Burbank. New ideas are never a bad thing, they’re not a waste of time. On average you have about eighty years to mull over your options.
Some people don’t live long enough to do so, cancer is rampant, blood diseases, ****** diseases, natural disasters coming right out of left field and blindsiding the innocent bystanders of both hemispheres. Some go through life handicapped, autism is apparent these days. Schizophrenia, Asperburgers, ADD and ADHD. Some lose their golden memories of their many valuable years walking down Alzheimer's Lane, not being able to remember whatever transpired only a few moments ago but revisiting gold nuggets from from fifty-some-odd years ago with ease. Some go through life delusional or bipolar. Some can't even sleep at night but they still carry on. And if assistance is needed it is our job as a race to help our brothers and sisters, no one deserves to be excluded from the gala of life. Or be denied by society and pumped with brightly colored pills from doctors promising a cure but prescribing a crutch.
Finding solace in sincerity.
The serendipity of it all hasn’t been uncovered and that keeps me going.
“Radiate boundless love towards the entire world above, below and across. Unhindered without ill will without enmity.” Oh Buddha the truth as it ever was.
Who is he who keeps these thoughts from the conscious minds of the population?
Who is it that distracts us from the humbling beauty and overwhelming devastation of this place of existence we’re in?
It’s they who do under the table parlor trick behind our backs.
Those who broadcast mind numbing so called reality TV shows without an underlying value or meaning.
Those who produce music, proclaiming extravagance to be the end all be all gluttonous goal we all should aim to achieve.
And those who turn noble causes into money making scams and defile pure ideas.
And of course those who give false promises of easily obtained  bright futures, those who don’t care, those who steal, ****, curse, bad mouth and lie. But still manage to get elected into positions that more or less decide out fates. Monsters, demons, banshees howling inconsequential worries and leaving us deaf to hear the real issues.
The
Joseph Hart Aug 2014
I loved most of all
a cold blue eyed doll.
I knew that fall,
I'd fall for a doll.

Red my doll if it could blush,
how most I'd get a such and such
and my mind, a grove, a lush
such and such.

Then a doll raises peaceful uproars,
if it weren't alive then before,
I'd pray peace at its door
the **** 'll open before

me. I beg and steal for all,
I begged for this blue eyed doll,
we're stuck between ourselves and lawls,
that uttered from a cold, white, doll.
murari sinha Oct 2010
i pick up flowers from the pages of the calendar
and scatter them on the picture-frame
of my dwelling place

sometimes the spring comes
sometimes the buddhist monastery  

along the pitch road  of the city
thousand counts of uproars

the mess-building that is situated
on the top of the coconut-tree
has also joined the march-past

and who miss the last train
i offer them  glasses of tea
as an anti-war  campaigning

the plastic-made afternoons
hoist the flag of nail-polish

as there is no water-bottle
around your neck

the assembly of choosing
one’s bridegroom oneself
has rejected you
Courtney Joy Feb 2012
I want you to shut your eyes and go into the frightening cave; get lost in what was once a terrible dream, and shed light upon the unknown; your darkened retreat. Forget what led you away, but begin to see what made you choke, and spit up all your fears. Bring your nightmares to life. Face the evil; stair it in its face until it gives way to hope. Put away the trigger and stop begging like a child. No taking account for what will be forgotten tomorrow- begin to disappear in what the universe has created- a lifeless body which only accounts for its soul. Dig deep into the midst of the horizon- shedding light on your darkened retreat. You will realize the soul. The end. The beginning. The circle of life. And why these crazy events; your obnoxious uproars over spilt milk; carry little significance in your life. Your inability to control the demon within only accounts for your ignorance and need to feed on what you crave. Build on your soul and not your body; get lost in yourself. Crawl out of the nonexistent state in which you reside; this ignorant black hole that grows as you indulge in petty habits. I'll meet you on the other side.
Marla Dec 2018
I wake up at noon everyday
Hoping to find a quick getaway
Out of this cellophane
Seranwrapping my brain
And making it stay.
I want to dance with the nobles
And make love to my wife
In the subtle grass,
Passing out hollowed cigars
As we laugh in uproars felt from afar.
Wasn't it better back in those days?

I'm drunk behind the wheel
Of my old car,
Trying to escape but only going
Back home to hell.
This ****** prison cell,
Where demons barge in at any hour
Just to say hello and beat me down.
I miss the days when it was easy to cry,
Now I'm just a hollow shell.

Now I'm in the future
Which is really more of a present.
Don't you see how far we've come?
From writhing in your sleep
To dancing with the stars,
You've made it big.
Lucy's on her way, she's a part of our gig.
Hallucinations await as the sun
Slowly decays,
Decades pass by and my problems
Melt away,
It's me, I'm happy again.
mEb Jun 2010
I hate your movement, your tainted, remorseful, inhuman, abnormalities.
hemorrhage your finances on useless entities, such as a mind altering beverage, more than one, or please go on and drink yourself to death. I was almost so accurately close to the unconscious mind you engage in every 12 hours, but loosely, abruptly, and significantly, it was what humanity refers to as a “failed task”. To you things are practical, so spur of the moment, our impulses we had frequently left us in dismal. Ever on occasions, if I ever. Finding a soul doppel-ganged to yours,  carbon copied, manufactured, identical traits, perfectly matched in sequence of personal qualities making me sink as far down as gravity could pull my main pumping *****, of course this is all anatomy. I laugh, although I should be rather pessimistic about that morning dawn, fogged, winter dawn. But what exactly is a joke without a punchline? A cell with no nucleus? a ******* house with no support beams? A band with no drums to keep everything counting, to keep everything in time? These things may no be able to survive without base, and you can find humor in everything life possesses, even after disaster. According to the most profound term of worship, the most known masked replica of “religion”, according to, this representative is god, the joke master. Look at your mentally impaired, speaking on a more serious level of course, I think things would ride smoothly if I had been blessed with autism. You see that type of mind state can put others at ease, they think so shrewdly that I feel sorry for them rather than the mental impaired. TO be gifted, to not give 12 ***** about media, politics, war, economy, and common global uproars. Thus if they do they know more than the presidential campaign combined into one single universal atom. What I’m getting at is are they the joke or are we?
Jay Bryant Apr 2013
I'm running, but the Government is on my heels, and my shoes are untied.
If you don't see the truth you’re bound to die.
Mass Media Hypnotist if you know the truth I know you feelings this.
These lines are the best years of my life,
But they’re after my hope so I hope I finish it tonight.
Finish lines bombed before the feet crossed the line,
Before the hand crossed the time
My intelligence slips,
I dread that I’m about to lose my mind
Great uproars of silence,
The hullabaloo is mental this time.
I remember last time,
I saw the beginning before the end
But now I see the end and its only beginning
Now I beg that you make supplication in pray
So that you may live to the end
Tragedy may cause your life to end
But you’ll begin to live again.
Will you cross the finish line in the end?
Spinning sights and broken tongue,
Buzzing mind and punctured lung,
Blotted ink and battered word,
Confusion nearly all absurd,
Incomprehensible speech,
Brain draining leech,
Lost in each second I stand,
Breaking the land,
Earth-shattering sounds on repeat,
Static shock in the feet,
Losing all my stability,
No more time feeling free,
The gear don't grind the way they once did,
The thoughts and the pain of which I cannot rid--
Myself of inside,
The rippling has died,
I use the same rhymes,
The same sounds are my crimes,
I can't find anything fresh,
The old and the new just mesh,
An endless war in cycle,
The past holds on as a barnacle,
Dead and decrypt--
Yet a living enigma the bites,
These are just not winnable fights,
I hear the tunes and raps each day,
The same beat comes back to stay,
I ramble and shoot the time away,
The loss of cognitive play,
Running myself deeper in dirt,
The spotless stains on my shirt,
Coating all spots with sugar sweet,
Hiding the blatant signs of defeat,
No holding back this noise anymore,
The bide developing more in store,
Inside it all begins to roar,
More and more until it hits the floor,
Inspirational deficiency sets in--
The internal daemons begin to grin,
Power beyond uproars a din,
Edging closer to the ending fin,
Rockstars crash and singers scream,
Sun will shine and moon will gleam,
The spectrum of emotion--
The pyramid of devotion--
The dictator of feeling--
The reaper of stealing--
Glass cracks to shatter//
Rings clink to clatter//
Cars crash to crumble,
Players pray to fumble,
Runners fly to fall,
Underdogs lose it all,
Dark horses seem to stay in last,
Dreamers hold close to the past,
Daredevils cheat the very laws--
That haunts us all within out flaws,
We can't keep on the cleared path,
Hidden roads hold heavy wrath,
Silent soldiers protect the shy,
Outspokens embrace the lie,
The sky is green a color so few--
Can see that grass is blue,
Like tears of the ghosts,
The lost on the posts,
The graffiti is art on the street,
A cunning feat,
The masterpiece of unknown,
Now to all optics shown,
We hide in sheep skin,
All in the lost and found bin,
The wolves are shot down,
The cities are made from town,
Built dreams on land of soils,
Gleaning earth of all spoils,
Vampiring dry the life of other one,
Conquering totals sole for fun,
Parasitic beasts roaming free,
Nothing here that I can see,
All is lost beyond the creeds,
Damaged souls pray to their beads,
Pleading to the heaven power,
Silent gods chose hell to shower,
Nothing free in all my vision,
Temporal lobe incision--
Lobotomized and clueless drone,
Rusted metal on broken bone,
WORDS WORDS WORDS//
Unbreakable wooden boards,
The words are inundating my life,
Sparking repetition and strife,
The double edged blade of a knife,
Out forth the bleeding is rife,
There's nothing left to say//
More will come another day...
Jacob Dexter Coffey
Allyson Walsh Dec 2015
Familiar with the fear.
Panicked by a box full of,
Roads unclear.
Sticks created due to torn gloves.

When things start looking up,
I find new ways,
To slip up.
Mistakes made in lingerie.

I was never enough;
Yet, believed it to be untrue,
While in the buff.
Performing our pas de deux.

Now, I am late.
Which is nothing new,
But other symptoms indicate,
This to be more than the flu.

Our family is known for,
Starting eager fires.
For ***** looks, uproars,
Unquenchable desires.

I am not an outlier.
This is standard, here.
When it comes to kindling fires,
We're legendary Shakespeares.
For myself

Need to add more to it, but this is all for tonight.
Joseph Boulet Feb 2010
I don’t want to speak my sorrows so weak
I just wish I could hear you I don’t want to fear you
Two points in a time warp, I am a dimension
Interrupted by laughter, heed my confession

haha you look not to me
haha a tumbling rock covers a ****
haha waterfalls suspend in time
haha the sound of your voice make want you be mine
to be mine

Squeeky breaths, you fall off a wall
If a petal let’s go it will fall
uproars 11 centimeters wide
How I wish, I wish
I can take you somewhere to hide
to hide

Read my mind
When i’m conscious I close my eyes
Fall away slowly, drift away
Sometimes I wonder if I’m blind
If I’m blind...
If I die...
To leave behind...
Please don’t lie
I will fly...
Actually one of my songs:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RddL16_vAMw
Princess Dawn Jan 2013
I want to know how it feels to flow in a quiet river
while my skins burn in a ray of your sunlight,
face the wild uproars of our temperament
and find myself in the fortress of your embrace,
your arms sail away in a large body of ocean
to meet mine, to fill the empty spaces of our longings,
grow a delicate flower with rocks and hardest bones
and love, and love you still.
Was it something dangerous
To flow, to love?
jeffrey conyers Jun 2015
Be, from whatever party you represent?
It's hard to please everyone, when you're in government.
Especially if you're the president.

The voices of negativism loves to speak.
Except many complainers afraid to run for offices of government.
But quick to say, who's the worst president.

Churches seems to be the most vocalist.
Because your views represent things according to them against scriptures.
But they can't accept some truth that's emerging about Jesus.

Besides, if you say they should pay taxes.
Then you see various uproars.
But many quick to say, who's the worst president?

And those celebrities that feels they were done wrong.
Cause the president agenda doesn't line up against their opinions.

All those historians love to address this subject too.
Then in all honesty , its just their views.
The best president is considered by some the worst president too.
sayona Feb 2014
so you see,
there's nothing to ensure
that everything we went through
and everything you ever did to me
ever happened
there are no books
with frayed pages & cracking binds
that are tearing apart at the seams
telling our story
in words of black and white
and times new roman
with measly pieces of euphoria
hidden in between the lines
there are no aging, decrepit newspapers
with headlines of innumerable uproars
of when people had heard of
the pain that had accumulated in my heart
and started seeping its way into
the rest of my body
(because no one cared that much honestly)
simply because pf what you did
the promises you failed to keep
and your cool, calm, and caring persona
that you failed to keep fooling me with
the trees no longer whisper your name
when the rain and tree leaves
collide with each other
during a violent yet calming thunderstorm
your awfully large footprints
from where you tracked in mud
on my egg shell carpet
on your way to see me
are now washed away
and it seems as if
you were never even there
your love bites that you left
alongside of my delicate neck
that were once a deep burgundy
have no faded
and no longer show any signs
that your lips were ever pressed
against my body
it was like nothing ever happened
and since nothing was recorded
nor kept or saved
to everyone else,
and even you,
nothing ever did
and unfortunately
that's how it's gonna stay
Grey Pryor Feb 2018
I am trying
I know it seems repetitive
I know I'm repulsing
I'm the definition of insanity
Because i keep acting out the same things.
I know I want you next to me
Its just harder than it seems
Especially lately
You need someone in bed with you
You havent been sleeping good
I walked in with you by her
And your soars were like uproars
I know you arent cheating
Not even mentally
I just cant help but feel that lately
I dont want me
So since you sleep by someone else just fine
Ill lay in bed all night with tears in my eyes
I want you to love me
And i know you do
Its just hard to see you want me
When I'm so sick of everything I do
I'm so sick. I need to breathe.
Ceida Uilyc Jan 2019
There’s so much light.

It’s bright
Glaring
Scorching
Darkness inside.

It’s burning
Erasing
Covering
Truth inside.

Isn’t it beautiful in the dark?
When there’s no sun to mellow tone the brain
When there’s no light to scorch the sight

Dark, like dots on black.

Where the skeleton uproars
The stench crawls  
And the wound moans.

It’s too much light
Too many masks.
Too many smiles.
Too bright.
And Burning.

I like the night sky better.
It's beautiful.
It's cold.
It frees.
Fan of the night
O My Lord, there is no one vaguely like Thee,
Who has the ability to forgive me of my iniquity.

Failure to accept Your grace is a sin of pride,
since Your presence within me, can divinely reside.

Forgiveness is a powerful weapon for my wounded soul,
when I recognize that only You can truly make me whole.

Help me Lord, to rightly walk in love without hypocrisy;
help me observe the Christ - in everyone I meet and see.

Don’t allow poor, quarrelsome behaviors to rise up in me,
for ungodly uproars may create opposition to God’s decrees.

Remind me to be kind, gentle and tender-hearted to those,
who still suffer under the weight of sin’s deathly throes.

In the remainder of my days, I will continually confess,
that I’ve been cleansed of all traces of unrighteousness.

Despite my human imperfections, my spirit won’t be riven,
knowing that I am greatly blessed and… still forgiven!







Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
Matt 20:25-26; Acts 10:38

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
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By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
fatima Jan 2018
like a blooming flower in the spring
and i am in the urge of winter
the coldness uproars fiercely
the tigre must've been so strong

the unknown feeling
should i let it go
or does it need to stay
future is always untold
to my longing days, go away.
Our love is a flame.
Flickering as ‘trouble’ uproars upon us.
Burning out when wind grows robust.
Black swirls dematerialize into the air, as if no second existed of prevailing passion.
The ponderous scent still lingering in the blackness; nebulous remains of a love turned cold.
A dusty old candle, situated on a shelf of lost treasures.
The only recognition, a spider steadily making a home out of an arduous love that was never anything more than frivolous.


(S.j.R)
This was the very first poem I ever wrote.
Onoma Apr 2018
at your leisure,
which may not be an extended
courtesy.
traverse the gut levels that
forewarn your animal.
as you're being basted by
the solvent juices of digestion--
feel bones slog beneath
flesh.
put together to pitch loccomotion
in shape.
allow for the phasing circumambulations
of a spiral to begin constriction.
let fall the reverberations of wet bells
on shriveling ears.
well on the hour no man can know--
well on the hour no man can know,
well on the hour.
with immense fidelity, the mass that
was he--broken down into uproars
of life.
as at an apogee of wind, a veil bulges--
and a spark leans forward to behold.
Coded messages, inscribed by the scars on my skin
Aspects of a secluded heart; as the line of tears, maps
Out the journey to a long sense of finding due healing

As the border between maturity and old youth, in a new attire;
Once the public uniform of coming in your, “Sunday best,”
Disguising all the vile of yourself- as we fashion ourselves to
Look like the most likable person; the scrap pieces of dripping water
From prior baptisms- as some of the sovereign believers are uncouth
To their God, wearing the many false skins, hunted in wickedness-
Their very own diplomacy of delighted barbarism  

Separate all of your self-gratifying creeds, and agreed to
Worship in love, pray together; coming as you are- as we are
All knitted together by familiar troubles, hurts, griefs, uproars-
To raise our voices, bringing life to this new body.
Samuel Lombardo Dec 2018
I won't disclose the person, for this person really went through
up battles, down drifts, uproars, crossroads, and
still I was left believing in him.
I doubted the day that I can admit my faults;
sanctifying the pressures of force and speed
was never truly a heartfelt proposition.
I have lost many games in my life;
but this person wanted me to win-
this person wanted me push forward-
drop the fears, anxieties, and plagues of thought-
moving one day at a time- allowing nature
to walk through its course with regard to life.
But more importantly, I have won in respect, honesty, and
shielding my life for another to take me with him.
I am talking about trusting a person to the degree;
the degree of footsteps and risks-
knowledge and wisdom to feel, heal, and glorify  
God in His Will!

Living in confusion, doubt, and all that dark energy
really caused fear in my life, but also other people.
I had to break my own heart so I can know how to heal;
That healing would be the love that I needed-
Want so powerful emotions; try taking a heart out of your body;
placing it on the table; turning it in-side-out,
just to realize that it was to begin with; and now,
add the burden of putting your body back together-
this is what my friend did to me-
There is no such thing as leaving room for the one
when the one is the only one who knows how to fix
the most important piece of a human's body function;
a person's heart is fragile; and he was the one who
did exactly what God promised He would send to do.
No, I did not know how, or the point,
but I sure did have to overcome huge pains and sufferings
in order to heal- allowing love to enter this divine space.

I no longer have to worry, because I am
believing in him- that those things were done
for good purpose.
My love is so much stronger; and I do not have to fear anything;
I do not have to fear time, space, force, or rejection,
because all those things combined would have not put
God, my best friend, and I on the same wavelengths
if it was not so that the one was not doctor enough
to fix this being of such harmful life dispositions.
I am just waiting, because I believe in him.
Just like God, He has provided my help that I need in my life;
I now can wait for what my heart can follow;
they say, the healer is best, because he knows what
the heart can handle; if so believing in him will do.
Sometimes people do not realize how important their friends are to them.  I knew why my friends were important, but I had a lot of people busy trying to win my heart when they could not see how badly my heart was frozen by fear.  So, I made a covenant to God to allow the one be the person who can unfreeze my heart, and see light.  I just hope we can do the same for others, too.  I believe that is why we attract people with relational, marriage, employment, and heartfelt problems, because we can make miracles happen without really noticing.
KHADYOT GOGOI Dec 2020
Recently lock down began
You may say
This is not the time to write a poem
When darkness falls drop by drop
From the sky.
In this cursed timorous moment
Breathe is confined,
Infected by incorporeal virus
Present in the silent outline of the city.
This is not at all a time for parasitic dream dalliance.

I myself too is a socially isolated person of pessimistic attitude,
Whose, vanity is a part of genetically accumulated negativity.
When people speak of moonlight and starry nights
I am frightened in apprehension of darkness.
When people speak of blooming of flowers
I wait wakefully in apprehension of a storm.
In every morning, I dream idle dreams of the evening.
My friends know quite well
That I am a foolish ancient mirror of psych lateral inversion.
.
Yet I wish to dedicate few moments of this tragic conjuncture
In the name of poetry
In this scary time of screams and uproars
Once again I want to start
The protesting parade of indomitable words
With the crime of antisocial psyche.
O' gloomy time of locked down city
Can the defeat be admitted so easily?

Where is that moment that can resist
The inevitable course of impending sunrise?
Can the clamour of birds become silent
Out of fear of horns of buffaloes?
Can the poison droplets fatigue the seeking thirst of enlightment
Of the descendants of light?
Will the deep paddy of green fields
Admit defeat so easily
Out of fear of unruly flood of Ahar ?

In fact, the words are not so simple
In fact, the words are not so simple

In this ominous darkness of ENDHAUBAALI
Once again,
skillful shadow war.
Every person of the locked down city knows
Patience matters, only patience.
The enemy will perish without a trace
Lockdown, Lockdown, lockdown comrades,
Lockdown the city;
Under silent raid; like a new Stalingrad.

The world conquered enemy
laughs horrible laughter at the
extended banks of the Luit.
But for that the heart is not trembled.
We want triumph and only triumph without the fear of death.
The country men are ready
Prepared with well-skilled, proficient and disciplined array
Will go forward with sword of thunder
Built in the workshops of science and technology
When clarion call comes.
New Saraighat is calling us.

Every citizen of the locked down city knows what is needed.
A little patience and some sacrifice.
In this cursed darkness of Endharubali
Once again well-skilled shadow war
The experienced wisdom of locked down city knows
Patience is a must, only patience
The enemy will die of drying
without tracing the host
The enemy will die of hunger
without finding out any trace.
Locked down for two fortnights
New Stalingrad, new Stalingrad.
The earth grooves in portal of violence, and the surface bleeding deep in furrows.

Cryptic wind in running battles against her notches and grooves, cutting deep into her face.

Rumbles in roarings
And roarings in rumbles
Tumbling earth upside down into pompous wind of violence.

Uproars in cataracts cascade
Declaring faces in deluge rage
Ridden earth out of glorious rhythms
Metastasizing disorder
In earth arteries and aorta!

Who will mould the broken ***?

Let the eagles displace the fluttering birds
Let the vision of the night birth glory
Let thunder and lightning come to the night
Let nightingales sing till glory dawn.
Renae Feb 2018
Tonight I felt lost
Deep in thoughts
The angry world trying to start up a storm with innocence
Why do they love to
Cause uproars
Meddle and pick and pry
Love is not that easy
Love does not happen overnight
Love is tucked away
In a safer place
Sheilded from wicked ways
ruthless minds
Who play with truth
& shout out lies
Stained Glass Mar 2019
a witness to the yells or shouts
a witness to the pattern of "oh okay" and "GET OUT!"

a witness to tears and uproars
a witness to hurtful words and slamming doors

on the outside i'm holding it strong all together
but the demons are as unpredictable as the weather

it's like being in space and trying to breathe air
when they preach about the future i don't really care

"no one knows what's worse drowning beneath the waves or
dying from the thirst."
my life is altered because of this, the cheerful 5 year old is the person that I miss

The changes were so sudden I don't blame you for not seeing, but what you don't understand is that I'm a human being
Yenson Dec 2018
We've known strifes and bloodshed, uproars and pain
in another world at another time in a land no longer home
Filled with yesterday's woes, we look for tomorrow's joy
In the cold climate, we hold the past and sing silent songs
Come tend my root and and I'll help clean your cave

I live by the water and you can rail here end of a week
Our bonding is common and we find solace in little things
I know your secrets 'n know mine is safe in your plain palms
We go back a long time and I have your back as always
At strangers' land we give and take to survive blinded by needs

When you're gone I often visit the body shop in the back streets
No ring on my finger, no promises broken, it is what it is
You've told me your story 'n we exchange my notes for your coin
Don't buy me a bird  but let your canaries sing you a sweet song
Have a pizza and a glass of Chianti and say arrivederci and ciao

Life hurls along and most times the nights are lonely and dark
We live to survive and can't always pay the piper for a tune
Take it where we find it and write fitting stories in hidden notes
Tell the folks back home one day we will return and share olives
But we know our lives is a lie we believe just so to live and smile
Stained Glass Mar 2019
Even when I'm walking underwater
Even when I set myself on fire
No one can see me
While I wrap barbed wire around my wrists
And decorate the walls with my fists
No one can ever hears me
A witness to the yells or shouts
A witness to the pattern of "Oh okay" and "GET OUT!"
A witness to tears and uproars
A witness to hurtful words and slamming doors
No one's ever needed me
Even when I'm showered with stylish clothes
Even when I have the perfect nose
No one ever wanted me

— The End —