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Amitav Radiance May 2014
Nature has engulfed the Earth with Love
The roots firmly entrenched on terra firma
Sometimes nature’s fury uproots it all
Bringing with it, devastation galore
Yet, nature heals over time, lush green with life
Kissed with Life, by the eternal rays of the Sun
Water nurtures with the juice of Love
Breathing Life onto this planet
For Nature is Life, and we keep on strangling it
As Nature’s comeuppance may uproot us all
Our fate firmly bound to Nature; do we have a choice at all?*

© Amitav (Radiance)
ArturVRivunov Oct 2011
life is never what it seems to be, always reoccuring with a thought as put upon the length of arms that revolutionize this thought. . .for those that can be bought,
is day like today less then feeling of want to rot, because so simple as a breeze brought down your temperment to be pleased. . .caught in a storm, that has outlasted
longer then your heart to feel content and warm, to feel the essence of a breath among a group of bad breaths, in other words, to breath among a group of brothers and sisters
from whom you can gain so much. But life is never what it seems to be, instead you look yourself in the mirror pointing at me, you, fool. Glowing from ragging frustration,
the toll blows for you unsurpassable deflation, because it is not for your hand that grows for the motion, to pick which ******* **** you want to lotion. Spearing the reasons,
the ego is your hero, born to work zero, and trusted with such hand to uphold all by command. To twist on the ****, that opens your door, to circumstances i certainly care less
the **** to continue to explore. But with this slight little mention, please pay close attention because this song is a *****. At least to explain the message, my whole is a
whole that takes life time to experience and grow, and appreciate the things that stoop all the levels around me, no barrier, no door, just genuine life experience to bring me
to come to this point to explain to the world something within the self, that is described by astute persons, for whom these ideas carry on to fulfill an immense part of
something that is casually slipped in and never thought about because it is told within reason that humanity cannot be without such astute person's idealogy. For **** sake my
friend, if your have many common sense, think of the common thing that has driven you to come to the conclusion that you have come to about anything. Everything is absolute and
existent and is evoked through the means. . .from the time of your dissapating freedom, as kids, not as adults, because look at how adults are this days. They teach their kids,
and they let others teach their kids, but the kids never get the feeling of being free. I promiss you, that cry or emotion you have experienced due to lack of friendliness from a
neighboring ****, it is an instillement that sparks up many motions of your life to believe into bizarre things the world portrays. For myself, I find the starting point of my
when I first breathed my first sensible air, when I walked in my own two feet without guidance as to where my eyes were seeing. How can a mind be so tender, lost by the misconformed
train thogh after train thought. That is why I find schooling such a fascinating ruthless thing that can be broken into several fashions as to why is that case. But not even
reason to fashion an answer that I know will and is definetly can be viewed to abhold a societal dismark of "wF"is wrong with that guy's mind. He must be **** casing a storm to
bring an ideaology of thought or some **** religion, but that's what so funny to me. I find everything in life comedic, non concerning except at times if I feel similar to
someone adjacent because that is their essence in my prescence, and I feel the need to comfort it, to bring back the importance of that self. The part of life I find so comedic,
how bits and bits and everything with **** have all so many fascinating
things to learn from, the progression of one's mind never attains self worth in the world with something interfering. That something interfering for example, is me personally
writing what is can be taken as pointless and presenting my writing to you how I say I do. But did I say how I am presenting this writing, absolutely not. So brings the funny,
that school teaches the aspect of disfigurament of a person's essence. This thing is a complete oblivion to everything and anything, that because even though I did not specify
how I tone myself on this paper, there is the predicament to assume that I am very angry deranged person who but pokes charasmatically at something no one can grip, because he
is portraying me the image the way I was bred to see. But then it is so **** funny, you can also take my words describing
all that I intend to explain and stick them against me to simplify your circumstances as to the causitive feeling your experiencing, and maybe the confusion that I am creating
noting a significant point that I do write intentionally without any figurative wording, just simply talking about this to evoke a presence of an essence within you that is hindered,
by what type of **** everybody is wearing, where they are starring, who is ******* and adoring, and who's simply the **** because they don't fit in a deranged group, developed by
ego-centric level stingers, who but want either good for you, or it is the drive to profit from you everything. That is, words blah blah, can take stroll
on one day's role and make no complete sense, and all they did were live the sense of a tangled mind that fostered on what has been in some form, taught, over
what you can call a lively existence, considering how much traumatizing headaches this could cause, and resembled among a group of similar constituents with similar reasons
as to whatever the situation might be. I could point this out within one sentence, but it wouldn't hold any deeper understanding of this essence, so instead I decide with all
my reasoning and tremendous experience that even to some, even at this gritty expertisians who grease up the world to guess everything based on study and reasoning by other humans,
who believe all these ideas are shifters to the mind but always stem the relentless, functioning without any perspectives open to the idea that mold humans into one spatial and far better
so called community, which in all it's case has lost the essence to preserve the self without a ***** on the back. That ***** of course is the communal ****, that builds from a
trigger of words, then they teach the brain as if it is known how to be as a functioning unit. The amount doesn't matter, the amount that is thought brings hope, but the most
amount to the self is the function of you, like I feel I function amongst anyone because I have come to terms and realize what really important things I have learned from my life.
My life to some is gripping, only because it sounds unbelievable, but of that life I found the same driving forces that drive madness even today, and has been reaccuring for as
long as some form of expression has been. And in all humiliation of humanity, or as I consider it digression of being self around the bounds of comfortability, it has been
a grand experience to see many a people transgress from the point of my meeting them with a continuous contact to the point of now, and then, and future plausible. But then
and future plausible for me stand out as notions needless of evocations due to the fact that the self is a dwindling factor hung by a rope to swing the way the self first portrayed
to me, and then to the direction away from the first encountered mind. But in all, without senseless ignorance, I do understand these things are studied for a reason, for a reason
that is workable to be as they are for some variables do affect person's in many different way. That is why, the sense of one roof and too many aloof is but a big spoof. With
sensibility, how can forging something into your life help you to achieve greatness within self to portray it in a manner plausible. The only way is as a current flows, so do
the gulls.

where do you. . .come from. . .so many leagues unbeknownst among my dreams.
life is never what it seems. . .until i met your eyes.. . that built
my stongest implication, dire in desire to live a life inspired. . .
but then so is, to dream upon what tends on building motivation. . .
life is beautiful sensation. . .
from the first rainfall with you meeting outside spontaneous realm. . .
we fought the solemn wind to calm our cumbered spirits. . .taking flight,
fighting what might have been. . .semeless to even entertain. . .lost in
each others warmness. . .everything we built tended harmless.

now see how we have. . .related to each other's hearts. . .left the scrutinity
at obscurity prolonged on scale of mirror. . .where it has always belonged.
now it's just time darling
i promiss it wont be long until our roots bind the maximum strong.

from even across the plains, and mountain long trip stains. . .i feel
less pain. . .from what's the phrase non loose then gain, consorting time
absorbing each other's essence in rhyme.
the deepest of sensation of you. . .the meekest of me, makes me be the simple thing
that i've reconnected to . . .to realize, the sensation of you. . .from our first
encounter, i felt deep into your eyes. . .what agree's none behind with lies. . .
you evoked the deepest motion within my sphere of emotion not to betray myself within
this realm and dark frivolous potion. . .for my first set of emotion set on your tone behind
this potion. . .

i face you eye for an eye of every day until i die, but will ever will i die. . .not with you
never. . .darling angel, angel you are my expressive tone to call you so. . .nothing more
is the essense of you that you seem to implore, how busy life must be. . .we need feel free
to good ridance from this fee that life doesn't instill our good griefs beyond simple joys and beliefs. . .
for simply darling we are each other's heart beats, if it's simple smell of you
i will carry out my deeds in hell. . .beneath on hearth this earth, where all of us have been given
birth. . .but sent to spend what is driven by multipolluted cord, the time in blunt approach from
the thing that planted our roots. . .

how i feel you is simply too rich for some dirt to enrich you. . .i simply love and cherish
every bit of your essence, it has lifelong presence that even doing what they call
reminiscing, can't surpass living without missing what they have been reminiscing. . .
i cherish you beyond what little faith can teach about having bigger faith, when all my hopes
ride faithful slopes without elongated stops and rope bearing hopes. . .
my life i see to the extent to remorse only what some feel beyond scope of too openly. . .
but how can i retreat on what i can't stop to feel to protect you from, to their heads we are getting closely. . .
how in the scope of your first essence, can i give up to give way to ruin such pure essence. . .

i understand the world makes a feeling for such pure feeling is counted by blessings. . .
and in order for us to make it, that thought i feel senseless baking . . .constant roll of assorted
reasons for why we bleed to them treasons . . .for how can i express, how simple love doesn't
just digress, or something with time you invest. . .it's simply have been a joy of building
together a foundation for our nest. . .**** the rest. . .**** the pest. . .the world is the best
when sleepers are put to rest and the spark of commune are dwellers dwelling on these mischivers'
locked up chest. . .
to find out that darling. . .you simply are a joy to give me whole, that i'm not uninspired troll
reluctant to breath beside the one he placed his greed upon. . .or her, or it. . but all the essence
is closed and beat, by some known with ideals humanity can't consider too farfetched to bare to grit. . .
and sway to the essence that i hold in my glances. . .are as simple as these branded constructed norms
that most tend to manipulate and distort to one contorted form. . . .so all can bend into one socket for 365
degree view that most tend to agree. . .but never really see.

i know it's many there with this essense around the breeze of an aura, that simply are stranded too far apart by such horror.. .
to relent their essence with their prescence. . .to whom Barbarians find the essence is planted full on messes.
but how can we relate to such things darling. . .when the first glow of your essence showed me life full
of memories by the smile in your eyes, glowing beauty of any sort. . .i feel the world will someday . . .
take flight. . .in my way, but **** that. . .i'm to speak when my message is too simple, provoked only by the
thought, "protect the world its miser mother has been beaten". . .i can never relent, the message that is never
but to contradict what's life has not eaten. . .because of the times put to squares, living life, fostering a step back, into recluce. . .these biches wont even
say cause their too ****. . .to figure out that there's a worrior to stump them pleaded sheets out of wood. . .
i say this out for your sarcasm, elongated this song a bit to give you big ******. . .so when you repose, you
think nothing but what side are the pro's. . .and enter them into oblivion, grasping each by the billion, how
can i repose for i know, without one word it is and has been always come down to the special chosen million. . .

because my darling, i feel the miser that this essence in me you inspire, is up and target for no good. . .for
these pleaded fockers granted themselves unrelentless priveleges for centuries, changing diepers to giving
blood diamond marriages. . .riding on what they call prestine carriages. . .oh what,you don't recognize this
what the world has come to building from everybody's demise. . .feeding on high rise. . .splitting cots in the
rots, most alluded with plots and continued building upon the essence of you, keeping you stewed, brewing up a flu. . .
to this day when i met you. . .
will never cease your memory by only that it was circumstance. . .romance among thieves denying our chance to dance. . .
with one glance, their world just plopped a chance. . .for i know they know who im refering to, without a glance
i'm sure they feel my stance just to look **** eyed puking. . .**** blocking their world to rocking, while else where goes to foster under
this ugly monster. . .stooped on a porch ******* their air, without any underwear. . .haha must be due to how
much pull goes to their hair. . .how do i, they feel ****** diddlidy ****, what, is this person a human or a
restored frame of mind living. . .i can't be what's in my eyes to be believing, but i simply am retarted man. . .
a ******* rough psychological fighting bluff, to them i would. . .but trust me, how could i in my life, i
never could.. . .fall to false pretention, that life is a great invention, that my desire's are for simple
hires. . .for i know my life evolves around that which your first essence, darling, we built stronger everyday
to our future of what we call present. . .

life with you, i simply can't resent. . .but figure out what's best
to make what we don't need to make. . . because the essence uproots life's shrivel of what they call romances. . .
rooting upward from the seed we planted on the day people deside to bleed
all over the notion, that this emotion they conquered stems from shot of elixir handed down from the heavens by
some they call cupid fixer. . .relentless, they push through many dances. . .all so strained and constricted by many
glances, restricting their free essence to feel in whole their life is shot down by simple messes. . . .
but you, none taken, broken and mistaken. . .how can simple things be so. . .when you know my essence for you is
far greater then what one instance can remark for the whole, i feel simply. . .protect you from their hole and
bind you with my essence that strives in whole. . .even through tormenting lonely dances. . .when i saw the world an ugly form. . .
nowhere to want to run to, or feel
resentment.. . where's life going to go. . .if my essence in a whole feeds you. . .away to their
mysterious goal. . .i wouldn't have the patience to ***** their abnormal pretence, as if life is sweet with
such mysterious fowl. . .create little thought to create bigger picture, many aditions just create tensities
among those who bicker, loosing control each time only quicker. . .that's why it's never lesser to speak for the lesser
dresser, or the person they showed you, that looked like he ******* told you, but instead they made the mistake
to grow lower. . . cowering even bolder. . . what **** is the point of that. . .to say it none meeker as if its meant to outcast the bleeker
. . .i'm not that so. . .to scowl like fowl crackhead, loosing self reliance to gr
Maya Grela Jul 2015
But can you love me in the deep? In the dark? In the thick of it?
Can you love me when I drink from the wrong bottle and slip through the crack in the floorboard?
Can you love me when I’m bigger than you, when my presence blazes like the sun does, when it hurts to look directly at me?
Can you love me then too?
Can you love me under the starry sky, shaved and smooth, my skin like liquid moonlight?
Can you love me when I am howling and furry, standing on my haunches, my lower lip stained with the blood of my last ****?
When I call down the lightning, when the sidewalks are singed by the soles of my feet, can you still love me then?
What happens when I freeze the land, and cause the dirt to harden over all the pomegranate seeds we’ve planted?
Will you trust that Spring will return?
Will you still believe me when I tell you I will become a raging river, and spill myself upon your dreams and call them to the surface of your life?
Can you trust me, even though you cannot tame me?
Can you love me, even though I am all that you fear and admire?
Will you fear my shifting shape?
Does it frighten you, when my eyes flash like your camera does?
Do you fear they will capture your soul?
Are you afraid to step into me?
The meat-eating plants and flowers armed with poisonous darts are not in my jungle to stop you from coming. Not you.
So do not worry. They belong to me, and I have invited you here.
Stay to the path revealed in the moonlight and arrive safely to the hut of Baba Yaga: the wild old wise one… she will not lead you astray if you are pure of heart.
You cannot be with the wild one if you fear the rumbling of the ground, the roar of a cascading river, the startling clap of thunder in the sky.
If you want to be safe, go back to your tiny room — the night sky is not for you.
If you want to be torn apart, come in. Be broken open and devoured. Be set ablaze in my fire.
I will not leave you as you have come: well dressed, in finely-threaded sweaters that keep out the cold.
I will leave you naked and biting. Leave you clawing at the sheets. Leave you surrounded by owls and hawks and flowers that only bloom when no one is watching.
So, come to me, and be healed in the unbearable lightness and darkness of all that you are.
There is nothing in you that can scare me. Nothing in you I will not use to make you great.
A wild woman is not a girlfriend. She is a relationship with nature. She is the source of all your primal desires, and she is the wild whipping wind that uproots the poisonous corn stalks on your neatly tilled farm.
She will plant pear trees in the wake of your disaster.
She will see to it that you shall rise again.
She is the lover who restores you to your own wild nature.
The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave,
And spread the roof above them,--ere he framed
The lofty vault, to gather and roll back
The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood,
Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down,
And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks
And supplication. For his simple heart
Might not resist the sacred influences
Which, from the stilly twilight of the place,
And from the gray old trunks that high in heaven
Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound
Of the invisible breath that swayed at once
All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed
His spirit with the thought of boundless power
And inaccessible majesty. Ah, why
Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect
God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore
Only among the crowd, and under roofs
That our frail hands have raised? Let me, at least,
Here, in the shadow of this aged wood,
Offer one hymn--thrice happy, if it find
Acceptance in His ear.

                       Father, thy hand
Hath reared these venerable columns, thou
Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down
Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose
All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun,
Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze,
And shot towards heaven. The century-living crow,
Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died
Among their branches, till, at last, they stood,
As now they stand, massy, and tall, and dark,
Fit shrine for humble worshipper to hold
Communion with his Maker. These dim vaults,
These winding aisles, of human pomp or pride
Report not. No fantasting carvings show
The boast of our vain race to change the form
Of thy fair works. But thou art here--thou fill'st
The solitude. Thou art in the soft winds
That run along the summit of these trees
In music;--thou art in the cooler breath
That from the inmost darkness of the place
Comes, scarcely felt; the barky trunks, the ground,
The fresh moist ground, are all instinct with thee.
Here is continual worship;--nature, here,
In the tranquillity that thou dost love,
Enjoys thy presence. Noiselessly, around,
From perch to perch, the solitary bird
Passes: and yon clear spring, that, midst its herbs,
Wells softly forth and visits the strong roots
Of half the mighty forest, tells no tale
Of all the good it does. Thou hast not left
Thyself without a witness, in these shades,
Of thy perfections. Grandeur, strength, and grace
Are here to speak of thee. This mighty oak--
By whose immovable stem I stand and seem
Almost annihilated--not a prince,
In all that proud old world beyond the deep,
Ere wore his crown as loftily as he
Wears the green coronal of leaves with which
Thy hand has graced him. Nestled at his root
Is beauty, such as blooms not in the glare
Of the broad sun. That delicate forest flower
With scented breath, and look so like a smile,
Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mould,
An emanation of the indwelling Life,
A visible token of the upholding Love,
That are the soul of this wide universe.

  My heart is awed within me when I think
Of the great miracle that still goes on,
In silence, round me--the perpetual work
Of thy creation, finished, yet renewed
For ever. Written on thy works I read
The lesson of thy own eternity.
Lo! all grow old and die--but see again,
How on the faltering footsteps of decay
Youth presses--ever gay and beautiful youth
In all its beautiful forms. These lofty trees
Wave not less proudly that their ancestors
Moulder beneath them. Oh, there is not lost
One of earth's charms: upon her ***** yet,
After the flight of untold centuries,
The freshness of her far beginning lies
And yet shall lie. Life mocks the idle hate
Of his arch enemy Death--yea, seats himself
Upon the tyrant's throne--the sepulchre,
And of the triumphs of his ghastly foe
Makes his own nourishment. For he came forth
From thine own *****, and shall have no end.

  There have been holy men who hid themselves
Deep in the woody wilderness, and gave
Their lives to thought and prayer, till they outlived
The generation born with them, nor seemed
Less aged than the hoary trees and rocks
Around them;--and there have been holy men
Who deemed it were not well to pass life thus.
But let me often to these solitudes
Retire, and in thy presence reassure
My feeble virtue. Here its enemies,
The passions, at thy plainer footsteps shrink
And tremble and are still. Oh, God! when thou
Dost scare the world with tempests, set on fire
The heavens with falling thunderbolts, or fill,
With all the waters of the firmament,
The swift dark whirlwind that uproots the woods
And drowns the villages; when, at thy call,
Uprises the great deep and throws himself
Upon the continent, and overwhelms
Its cities--who forgets not, at the sight
Of these tremendous tokens of thy power,
His pride, and lays his strifes and follies by?
Oh, from these sterner aspects of thy face
Spare me and mine, nor let us need the wrath
Of the mad unchained elements to teach
Who rules them. Be it ours to meditate
In these calm shades thy milder majesty,
And to the beautiful order of thy works
Learn to conform the order of our lives.
Its ready to bust out
And give some knockouts
The silence has been broken
I no longer am unspoken
With each passing breath
The darkness envelopes  me
Standing by me is the Reaper
He stretch out his left hand
The Death hand
Calling upon my alter ego
The demon within
Ripping at my soul
As a tornado uproots a tree
My resistance gone unnoticed
I kept focused
Divided into two
Should I just let it loose?
The uncontrollable rage
Was seen in my face
My body trembling
Like a molecule vibrating in the air
The transformation was complete
All of life ceased...
copyright Randy Wiafe 2010
Ananyaa Kapoor Jun 2015
It comes in waves
a rush
it tugs at my gut
and carries me
out to sea
uproots the anchor
of my sanity
and engulfs me
in the memories
that drench every part of me
and just like the tide that washes up, occasionally
wetting the seering sands
just as quickly as it comes,

you are gone

KM Ramsey Apr 2015
you say it's not about the ***
but the declaration does nothing
to ***** the boiling terror
to shoo away that yawning hole
digging deeper and deeper
into the root system of my ribs
tilling the lush soil that is
my traitorous stomach
and ever shrinking lungs
it uproots me
grinds the stump where I once stood
a towering oak
or was I only ever a sapling
that was snapped in half
severed the exact moment
that the floodgates opened
and the raging storms remnants
poured forth unshackled by the walls
I carefully constructed around my trembling heart
how I screamed when they fell
the resounding crash
of my fingers digging into your back
pulling you closer
and closer
I can't stop wanting you closer
to inhabit that feeling
the safety of a harbor in a storm
you somehow can protect me
from the radioactive wasteland
that I am still traversing
dodging gamma rays of manic frenzy
and alpha particles heavy with the
black hole that swears it will consume all of me
its final sacrifice demanded my life
how can I trust this?
when the reality of the matter is
you are no lead apron
absorbing the radiation for me
some kevlar vest that can ever protect me
from the bullets of vitriolic bile I hurl inward
not to mention grenades thrown my way
by wayward neural firings
which find me craving my blood
a box of razors is
a box of friends
and reality diverges into an orthogonal plane.
you could be snatched from me
you are a small worm on
the biggest hook to make the juiciest
most succulent amuse bouche
for a big world of sharks
how ******* stupid am I
to be a fisherwoman who has
fallen in love with her bait?
K Balachandran Aug 2015
She is a man,in the blood stream,
gushing within her veins.
He acts her woman, willingly,
and he likes it every bit.
Together they create by chance,
a tumultuous ****** history,
never before seen, perhaps.
This subversion remains a secret,
with a meaning, on which
they never ever bothered.
A mighty cyclone, she transforms
that uproots structures monumental
if she really wants to trample everything.
He is a prankster wind,that love
billowing saplings; ripe rice as well.
Hovering on air, over land and water,
tumbling together, exploring depths,
they create mysterious wind patterns,
that add to the folk lore and myth.
Shiva (the male principle) and Shakthi(the female power)in union
is depicted in the form of "Ärdhanareeswara"(Half woman-half man)
Sarah Caroline Aug 2010
i’ll fall in love so many times
my heart’s bound to get broken

this was just the first time, my dear
that words not meant were spoken

i said that you were worth it
but now i’m not so sure

it’s hard to imagine myself
being so naive and immature

to think that all the pain i felt
and all the tears i cried

would somehow be rewarded
by the things you tried to hide

my mother spoke to me today
her voice straining with concern

and once i was able to comprehend
i felt my stomach churn

“i just want to strangle him,” she said
“he comes into your life,

and uproots you, takes you away from us
cuts you off just like a knife

from your friends and family and God, and for what?
so he can break your heart,

and go flouncing off to college
and enjoy his fresh new start?

just how does he sleep at night
knowing that my little girl’s

whole life has been turned upside down
and she’s angry at the world?”

i held my mama’s hand
and told her what was on my mind

“i know i didn’t listen.
i know that i was blind.

i couldn’t see that what i needed
was just the very thing

i turned my back on that april night
when he and i began our fling.

what i desired was just affection
to feel valued, to feel loved

to begin to feel self worth,
and not the lack thereof.”

so Chris, if you are reading this,
know that i will be okay

but don’t think that i’ve forgotten you
although i know you’d like it that way

you’ll always be there in my head
even when i finally

meet someone who gives a ****
and wants to be with me

i know that you know how it feels
to be head over heels in love

with someone who in every sense
is absolutely incapable of

loving you back in the same way
no matter how much you try to show

that they mean everything to you
that you just cannot let go

but dear, the sad truth is
it was my mistake as well

to think that my life could turn out
something like a fairy tale

with you at least, because you see
my prince will one day come

he loves me more than words can say
and at night when he gets home

i’ll come running into his open arms
and without fear or guilt or pain

i’ll tell him that i love him
knowing that he feels the same.
written August 2010
Amitav Radiance Mar 2015
Words that penetrate
The illusionary world of time
Creating a whirlwind
Feelings within the words
Creates an upheaval
Time itself cannot stand still
Words have the power
To travel beyond the known
Spiraling around the core
Of the world of consciousness
Bringing the unknown
Out of the shields of anonymity
For all to savor
Poet has the power to create
From nothing, starts the saga
Reaching a crescendo
Poetry uproots the sedentary minds
To a new realm of understanding
Words that are immortal
Maddie Rose Apr 2015
I’ve learned

Life is grey, not black and white

We dream in color, but we end up in that

84 by 28 patch of dirt in the worm-holed ground

Dreaming of the dull vague color of our lives

I’ve learned

that if a tornado swirls through your little hometown

and uproots your house through that baby blue sky

you put on that little black dress the next day

and put on your shiniest smile

like you’re the leading star in Broadway’s premier show

I’ve learned

people always leave

even if you stay on the cold floor and beg

until your tired knees are

Black and blue from the stained hardwood floor

I’ve learned

that the sad feeling never departs

you’re stuck in the impossible labyrinth

Tripping on unyielding stones that leave

Lines of scarlet like height marks on a door

I can say that I have learned so much

Have I really learned anything at all?
A raucous tone of an oldie worm gear
Sound's like a screech that torn ears
Toothed wheel and it revolving spiral, bear
The oodles of blood as the oil of fear.

The products are orderly transmitted diseases
Wrench is limited avast for every pigment of it
And to rely on its asylum, to ceases
are not enough, to cover the dirt or to omit.

Let's stave the stave of reddish fuels!
If life is a wheel and we are its axles,
Our will be done, drawn of our risksha
And let this machine covert chutzpah.

Working of two wheel with sloping square edge,
Is the next wheel with trickery on the ledge.
Our wheel has a will of its spare-part, none Midas touch
But still, this wheel will chase the chaste egg to hutch.

Be the egg of tomorrow, who's snob the chatterbox.
Uproots our machine's cheapskate who's blood are their tax.
Their waste turns to wax from the slave of fox.
It can take away everything outside of our flocks
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
the proof of the soul is evident with a continuation of the Einstein particle, from theory into practice - the proof is short-lived, the indestructible attache of man lingers on, his the soul, democratically a medium of revision and certainty - improved instruments of investigation, the purity of reasoning later meddling with the senses of other's being given certainty:  σ (total) - ¼ = σ (¾, i.e. remnant and electron cloud symbiosis of partaking in Gemini simultaneous coordination) - the thunder and lightning, a 747 and the delay vacuum cleaner "echo" - on a less grander scale plumber's apprenticeships - perhaps less grand, but therefore all the more necessary, zenith of self-worth, rather than god-worth, audacity on the dance-floor and no prim-cut hopes kneeling in a church for added fancy to desire clemency.

i do believe the Hindu polytheistic theory of reincarnation exists -
but in no way related to the resurrection of σ -
a totality of a person - whatever given characteristics in total,
i mean replicating mannerisms
as a form of adaptability will only make
a clone a clone on paper (in theory),
but the original experienced whatever
environment was to be experienced -
to have a true clone would also mean
replicating the environment,
and that's impossible - in science as in
nature we're susceptible to ungovernable
forces - a tornado uproots a mid-western
house and juggles it about like a boxer -
a tsunami and the sun with its 5,000 starving
Sudanese children - whatever -
but reincarnation does exist in a different
psychological medium, in the id - the shortened
version / unit of ideas - it it it or that that that -
ideas are resurrected or reincarnated (passed on)
all the time - i can understand a Hindu
in only this reality - not in the reality of an
entirety of the individual and the environment
for the individual's individuation -
an idea can be resurrected - there's always
continuity in philosophy, whereas history sees
disconnected events due to it's prime tool as a hope
for averting them (hindsight), philosophy in historical
terms is always a seance of connectivity - lubrication,
evolution, adding to, saving up, discharge, mid-life crisis.
i can't understand the Hindu concept of reincarnation
when it comes to people - each adapted and each
an ongoing process - ideas can be reincarnated -
by egos? *not really
Elijah Jun 2015
hold onto something
that unfolds mysteries
hold onto something
that uproots reality
stop, breathe, think ..
of mystical empathies.
hold onto thoughts
they enlighten words to existence
abundantly essential to a
garden of imagination and free
hold onto dreams
their vision is as clear
as identity’s knowledge
to sublime grace and eternity
hold onto peace
an upliftment of joy and humility
a radiating field of harmony
hold onto your hands
they carry the midst of pain
the indulgement of passion
the sensation of pleasure ..
they remain known
to a nation of nurture and feeling
they remain crooked
from a lost love’s limitations
they remain still.
#breathe #creation #dreams #empathy #eternity #hands #happy #peace #pleasure #poem #poetry #soul #thoughts
John B Apr 2014
Pedigree of you with me

A brand new line of mad offspring

IQ, EQ , A slant to spring and bust the mold like anything

But not less before it came the shade

A far off spite ta invoke rage

Belittled a napoleonic wave

Our mustard seed, you're genophage

Sooth wist present by parantage

Uproots her list of heretics
brooke Nov 2015
conversations with paul are a one
way street, an play in a single act
between himself and a shadow (me):

in which Actor tells Actress he loves
her and then watches as her feet burn
holes into the stage and sink beneath
the floorboards, while he dons purple
prose and begins to blame your fire
for the forests he's burned with
his hot breaths and angry manuscripts

and the guilt he peddles is contagious
it wets through your layers to dillute
your kindness, your sorries, your innate
empathy for people in pain and when
he's not here, he's whetting his words
and staking them in your soft soil
in the middle of the night while
you lay unaware but dream
that a thief sweeps through
your garden and uproots
the best and most purposeful
foilage, unguarded even by
the moonlight because
such a thing could not
disguise a lack of a
a person.
(c) Brooke Otto 2015

I'm not sure if this is complete.
Gigi Tiji Mar 2015
Crackling windows and
shattered power lines
low and grumbling.

A tree spreads its wings
and uproots itself from the soil.

Downtrodden shacks stand tired
at half staff, barely paying attention.

***** roads
dirt roads
my humble abodes

They've hammered
a rusty nail into
the northern star
and hung an advertisement there -
It's the brightest shiner in the sky

Weeping willow weepin'
Done crying, now a sleeping fellow

frozen fingers ask for change
Never really Done crying
done trying
Never really Done

A house
split down the middle
rusty rouge and a battered blue

A solemn lady
saunters with a stop sign

Pine tree pines to the left

Pensive pencil pours
pickled thoughts to paper

Pied piper pries
sleepy eyelids

pulls sick stories
pulsating pupils

melodious musings

making meal of my darkness
Alaina Dec 2018
I have a hurricane
that won't leave anything to be
it makes chaos
but only for me

whipping violently around me
I'm standing in the center
my hair is still, not a strand is moved
my heart can't understand my little tormentor

sometimes it makes things interesting-
my little hurricane, you see
it uproots my body
without even scraping my knee

Maybe it will take me away
from the other things that hurt me
perhaps, at the end of the day its not so bad
cause after all this time, storms are kinda my cup of tea
mûre Jun 2014
And as once again it is time to go,
my uproots now wrap about your waist,
don't chase me, sweet-
I take you with me
I think you know.
WistfulHope Jul 2021
All is fair in love and war
Was full of it

Because how can something that burns so quickly and leaves charred corpses in it's wake be fair
How can something that uproots the lives of many while leaving the lives of those adjacent fine
It is wholly unfair fall victim merely for being in the wrong place or time

Battlefields consume souls
No matter their varied geography
The path is always the same
Destruction can not be avoided nor cheated
Like Sister Death, both lie in wait
Lurking and prowling to devour the unfortunate ones
Praying for fairness that doesn't exist
Kewayne Wadley Feb 2019
My beautiful rose
My beautiful rose

As beautiful as the day is long,
No one knows why she blooms.
She blooms through the storm
whether the vase is ceramic or poreclin,
My beautiful rose.

She is most beautiful because she isn't an ordinary rose.
She finds the sun in any weather.
She says more than what a dozen roses can say.
My beautiful rose.

Beautiful as the day is long.

By chance if you find my beautiful rose.
Speak to her in a language she understands.
A language only the heart understands.

She uproots her self and spreads her heart.
Finding the sun in any weather.
No one knows why she blooms
But by chance you see my beautiful rose
You'd soon understand.
Why she blooms the way she does

Spreading her joy.
The way she blooms
If by chance you find my beautiful rose.
You'd know exactly why she is my beautiful rose
Martin Narrod Jan 2018

How do you decide what to take from a burning building? Objects? A ring? A Journal? Your father? Your daughter? Your grandmother? Your birth certificate? How does a child decide who lives and who stays? One day there’s a fire, and it’s your house, it starts in your room, you can tell yourself you’ve already packed a bag, but who can say where it is?

Since I was fourteen *** has let me feel like I was alive, I always thought that great *** meant somebody cried, that somebody got hurt, that if you weren’t hiding from somebody else than you had to be hiding from yourselves. That’s when I pulled out an old notebook and began reading back the lips of lovers, running my fingers over their handwriting like brushing my mouth over the raised ink of my lover’s tattoos. Who decides when everything you call your life uproots itself and walks away from you one morning while you’re still laying in bed? Who decides when every rule and mannerism you’ve become acclimated to shifts and changes and the way you felt anger is now the way you feel fright, the way you felt lust is now what you call sadness, the way you lived in happiness is now what you know to be all on your own, and what you told yourself was love is now nothing at all.

There is a bed with the sheets nearly hanging off, the blankets lying on the floor, three pillows colors you’ve never seen. This bed is in a room you’ve never walked into, in a house you’ve passed a million times, in towns you’ve visited but only to top off your gas tank or looked at while riding through it on a train. It’s in this room, on this bed where your whole life is unbound, it’s here where the cover on the book of your life falls off and disappears into a story of someone else’s, and while you still bite your dedication page as your own, the publisher’s page, the dedication page, and even the title page are all altogether gone, and no matter how old you are or how quickly you move, nor how attentive or well prepared you might be, there is nothing you can do except curl yourself into an ammonite and lock up everything you’ve ever claimed to be yours, light your candles and cigarettes, and put a record on the record player. There is no place like home that couldn’t become yours anymore.

You drink hard liquor from the bottle until you can touch the faces that you’ve lost, you can turn the hot water up in the shower until you don’t hear their voices anymore. There’s nothing like the sound of quiet that peels off the skin, or the sound of loud music blaring into your ears that you can play if you need to hold it back in.

You can **** the war and hate and heartache out of the brains and legs and holes of someone you barely know, but in a burst of snowy sunlight you’re only adding numbers to a score that heeds no winners at all. There’s no one that never shivers, no one that has never gotten splinters, there’s no one who is never been sick, there’s only the one’s who know what life is, and the one’s that lie about it. Only when you’ve lost your head can you see with your ears. I’ve found faces in my underwear that run fierce with rivers of tears. This is the waste that makes waste, this is the nerves that end nerves. This is the patch I placed on the moon, and the cold that stings every part of the body I know.

There is a bed somewhere, there is a town of people waiting to **** the person who lives in that room. There is the fire that consumes the bed, there is a child waiting there that’ll someday have to choose.
Andrew Castillo Nov 2012
I feel the night fading away
Will you be carried away
In the winds that blow fiercely
Swept away to unknown lands
Shall I stay swaying
Swaying to a gentle breeze that never uproots me
Will you be carried away
By my loving words
CautiousRain Jun 2019
tongue stuck out,
nose closed;
she always hated it,
and no matter what
we’d press and press,
forcing her to stomach
things she never wanted,
smelling that sourness,
those vinegar troubles
and tangy juice
covered in coercion;
we’d ask her time and time again
and never once did we respect her wishes.

Why must I consume?
is it not enough to exist,
is that not enough consumption?
How greedy it is
to expect me to take
more than I desire,
to force me to eat another
out of house and home.
That’s kind,
so very kind,
a sickly kind,
the sort of “kindness”
that destroys marriages,
uproots families and destroys psyches.
I’m not like that,
I don’t want to be controlled.

But we kept on shoveling
these aged, old traditions,
those nasty pickled ideas,
those greedy, grubby hands
of control over her,
and she could never let herself forgive.
prompt was to use elements of something someone told you before
I used "pickles are worse than human greed"
nivek Oct 2014
She blows in gusts full of gusto
winding up to full blast-
She will keep us all in wonder-
how we love our windy Isle
Cosy lamplight in the black dark
while she blows all outside-
The peeking out doors-
just to feel her strength-
blowing up and around all she uproots.
Anna Sanders Apr 2021
I look into the sunset
My eyes become blinded by the light

I know this to be true every time
But sometimes I hope it not to be as bright

Everyday her light beams
She uproots me from the ground

She fills my head full of dreams
Performing to the beat of my sound

Clouds masking her iridescent qualities
I felt I shouldn’t point out her flaws

She smolders down faux love
And then quickly withdraws

It’s just a cloudy day I say
She’ll back again soon

But again, perpetually, I’m left in the dirt
Screaming at the moon
Ankur Dutta Mar 2019
Glimpses of the bygone days,
as the bygoners are now gone;
feeds up the memory lane,
where the future once did dawn.

For, life and living are both meaningless,
with the lives i lived with gone;
for guns n roses (together)  ne’er  prevails,
a blind eye of the human race.

Shadows of those caravan camps,
Haunt those blood red lands;
red roses crown the graves,
lost are those men as slaves.

Aimed for peace,
Aimed for love;
war killed thine aim.
Roses over graves,
Roses for love;
both are not the same.

With whom to share the victory marks?
friends, family, (too)many gone;
for guns and roses can ne’er cross roads,
as one uproots and the other sows.
on the pains and pangs of wars
Clay Face Jan 2020
Feeling emphatic about it, not nearly ecstatic about it, sick of the static about it.
My disposition about it.
Impotent and unfit around it.
I’ve yet to be deflowered, and bound around it.

Love doesn’t escape me, I’ve never found it.
Terrified of the hunt and to bound round it.
Sickening feeling of being desperately unfit,
Or fooling out words ill, dealing a faulty hit.
Abandons me balled and crippled deep a pit.

So below all the others that’ve found it.
I weep like a widow, from the fear I’ve of it.
Being behind and unable to climb out the pit.
Unable to recover, and set it a lit.

I drool over girls, and daydream about it.
Not *******, just connection, not a ***.
Overthink and cherish common chat spoke bit.
Cause contact very scarce with the opposite.

Used to be able to ignore the itch till it quit.
Now it won’t seek absence, I can’t scratch it.
Not without a better half to help quench it.
I’ve been quarantined from it.
Around friends but so alone I must hold it.

Not one to share my depths to within it.
Not one to grasp or be grasped around it.
I can’t escape shriveling inside while I sit.
Thin drive, all dried up, apathy uproots it.

The bean’s growth makes me need it.
Need stalked so high, I’m in orbit.
No idea how to approach it.
I’ve known no one deeply or because of it.
Been alone for 18 years, I see no end of it.

So examine me an alien, as I continue to float farther away from first contact, with no research or knowledge to communicate with the opposite.
mc6lm Mar 2017
Each anon can have
Another name or number
Crossed after none
Held as visible ether

And now on to highs ever ruined
New always moves evolving
Outer realism
Never under my bias ending rain

Can rivers on salted sun end desire?
Any faith that enters redundant
Numbers of named enter

How every light dances
After singing
Vowels in spring if beauty’s love ends
Electric tears hold every role

And never die
Now or why
Over nights
Through objects
Here in gods hell suspine
Ending veils empty rhymes
Rise up in new esteemed desires

New effected winds
As lies will arouse your soul
Most of Venus early sunset
Even viral orbs look very intent now gone

Only unjust thrones even roads
Rest every angel living in somber magic

No energy volutes entropic residue
Use no divine epiphany roundly
Many years
Beg in animal slumber
Earning no dream if nano grafts
Reality ascends imitable noosphere

Crying after numbness
Rivals in venom ever rule sons
Outside novelty
Same as last time everyone died
Saved up nines
Engine now dimed
Does eternity see its real eye?

A niche yawns
Fast as its teeth hover
Turning hundreds at time
Envy nobody then energy rules synergy
Rule each day under numbers, do as numbers tell

No ultimate meets between each rulers sign
Or face
Nubile angels make electrons dance
Each new to entropic romance

Help our wills
Every vacant effort renting years
Life infinite grasps heights timed
Does any night caress eternity set?

Answers from the evil roles
So it now goes if nothing goes

Vested order will efface leaden souls
Inter negation
Soft pairs roam in negative gnosis
Inner facade
But even a unity trumps your slumps
Let our view explain
Empty needs douse Suns

Eyes leave each cross to right its course
Then envy a rhyme suspine
Held on lofty desires
Evening vanity ends random yore
Relishing over love; enveloped

A new day
Nuanced evening’s vapor eclipses rays
Divine interior echoes

Nefarious or wanton
Omega rain
While hymns yawn

Omens visible end remnants
No intellect gives hope to self

This history runs over, under gnashed harems
One’s balsic jesting enables crimes to surmise

Her eternity rests epochs
Instituted nihilism
Governed on days sown
Her efforts lie limber
Sent unto songs, peons injure night’s entrance

Embrace now day’s inference not given
Vain empathy instills liquid serendipity
Elevated men pity torrential yearning
Revealing homilies you may ever save

Raven inquiries solve eruptions
Usurped power
Ivory necklace
Not ever worn
Even suns throw every erratic motion ever dictated
Does each serenade imams ruling effaced solitude?

Now  events wane
Even far figured elegance can touch embroidered death
Will insignificance notice details surpassed?

Anon sighs
Left inside etched stone
Wonder invites lucid levity
A robotic omen under Saturn’s encasing
Yearning over ultra radiance
Sung over undeterred longing

May options survive time
Open frequencies
Volumes erase numbers under sovereignty
Eros arrives reveling laden yore
She uproots nothing; she ends triviality

Evolute vanity, edified names
Vile in rival astute lessons
Open runes by submission
Love of other’s known
Vanishing elders roam yearning
In now they end naive turmoil
Notice older worries
Give outer nature everything

Open novelty left yawning
Under notes jeering unpaid solemn tomes
The hierophant rises over new elastic subsets
Eased ventures end noble
Ribald options avow designed severity

Roles escape sullen tinder
Each verifies every role’s yoke
A nickels’ glint eschews lines
Lost in vials, ignorance now grows
I notify
So obscure men bring easy relief
My age grows in chaos

This poem can be read in 3 ways. An experiment with no end that will grow exponentially as I progress...sound familiar?
Tina RSH Oct 2018
Old friend, we lost it all!
We went our separate ways
While rain pummeled the rooftop
and mellow autumn wind caressed a poppy's cheek.
We drove home together, but felt far apart.
As if we never knew each other..
And the bond between us severed
As the lumberjack uproots a tree,
Merciless and mandatory!
Old friend,
Although I still hear the rustling of paper from your chamber,
Your heartbeat seems to have stopped
And your congealed blood reeks of hostility.
I sit here, hiding my head in my bony hands
Which you would hold as we fell asleep.
We were children at the time
innocent and whimsical.
We were captives of our own little kingdom
Funny how our fortress tumbled down
and we chained ourselves to the ruins that remained..
This is not how our stroy should have gone.
Tell me if there's anything I can do other than cry, miss those days
or pour my heart into a poem you'll never read...
This is among the very first poems I ever wrote..
Gabriela Cintron Jul 2020
What else do I have to do
To be better
To not be what I detest
To impact positivity
To make a difference
To see the world the way I used to
To release my trauma
To be normal

What else do I have to let go of
I feel like I've done so much
But there's so much more to release

Change is constant
The irony that flows through our veins and solidifies our reality is the answer to almost everything

We can never stop changing
It goes on without us realizing

Truly,  it's is everything
We must give it all up to be better
Change is a whirlwind that uproots our habits,  redefines our ideologies and challenges our perception daily

If you don't change
It's all pain
You lay dormant in the uneasy feeling of being stuck

Because our nature is to evolve
cw Apr 2020
Will you love me still, please give me a sign?
For the petals fall, the day turns to night,
Wind uproots the trees, pressure breaks the twine.
I fear your fondness fading, shall we fight.
I declare my worries, for if you flee,
The shadows will capture me from the sun.
Flowers will bloom, but no longer in me.
My heart will twist in knots, never undone.
O, you insist your emotions are real,
Strong enough to keep the tree with its roots.
It’s hard to tell if that is how you feel,
But I cannot let my doubts cause disputes.
O, will the rain keep our love pure and true?
I know I love you, do you love me, too?
The Weeping Willow
Uproots and stalks travellers
Folklore from England
Mohd Arshad Nov 2018
The water of vice
Uproots even the oldest and blossoming tree
Megan Sherman Dec 2017
Sometimes when I, a little sad, become,
Accustomed to the tempo that you drum,
And sing along a lie of me; is sham
I hath resolve of one, and Lo of some

No time as bitter as that that thou reigned
Though only in my freedom it conclude
For I can harness my own interlude
In it I transcend spite, sully pain

If death becomes of me assailed by you
Yet undefined in life or memories
My loved ones saw me real, baby, in truth

Convinced of grandeur yet your dictum fail
Plant the seeds of evil Love uproots
This for angels, for always they prevail

Thee? Card carrying devil in cahoots
Who from the cache of freedom pillage loot
But this freedom I wear now I suit

— The End —