"vanguard" poems
The world's gone mad but my mind is made up.
Time to let ya'll into the darkroom of my mind,
A place where I'm the referee of a poetic world cup.
This is where I am creative even though I'm blind
Don't get me wrong I am not leaving from town.
No more radio or TV saturated with all the sad news,
I have got enough breaking news of my very own...
Breaking to me each and every moment as it brews.
Come and meet the hard drive of my creative doom,
That contains my beautiful and liberated mind.
Welcome to my one bright side I call my darkroom,
It's a place that's so special, I reckon it's one of a kind.
You have to know that I always act blind but I see.
In my mind, I can walk stack naked and levitate.
My mind is where I remain totally black and free.
Come join me set my poetic dial and help me activate,
The code that will outshine any power on this earth.
My mind is where I live and where nobody has access,
Here I can run a poetic marathon without taking a breath,
Call it my playground and intellectual fortress.
My mind is deep, a place of absolute calm and refuge,
Somewhere I will always see as the final frontier.
It is dangerous and toxic like a nuclear centrifuge.
In there, I am all alert and vigilant like a soldier.
My mind is a darkroom where I give birth to new ideas.
It is a vessel and place in which I do magic with letters.
It is my holy land of thoughts, my own creative Judea,
Where each idea is sacred and light as bird feathers.
Welcome to the epicenter of my creative mind.
This is where I turn letters into spoken words
A front line of creativity where no one leaves behind.
Come and see where all words become useful swords.
My mind produces powerful words like some light beams...
Courageous and powerful words for extra motivation.
Spoken Words that will light up people's faded dreams.
Now you know that up in my mind are no limitation,
There exists an enormous capacity of time and space.
Welcome one, welcome all to the darkroom of my mind
Take a seat and be calm, be quiet this is my place
For this here is my personal creative post of command.
www.poemhunter.com/IvanBrookssr
#Vanguard-poetry23
#IvanBrookspoetry
twitter @ivanclappers
@Bassapoet
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 10:52 PM UTC
if you drill down,
past the hair,
flesh and bone.
into my mind
where the ego
and id reside.
then turn to the left,
and follow the i.q.
down the alley,
you will find
a place.
where on thrones of
cogitating thoughts,
king big questions asked,
reigns in conjunction,
with, queen yet unanswered.
they watch with interest benign,
over a field of an eternal tourney,
split roughly down the middle
by a chasm quite wide.
on one side
of the gorge is arrayed,
the banners of philosophy.
at the vanguard,
the epistemological knights;
plato, descartes, ferrier,
kant, hume,spinoza
and bosanquet.
the major forces ride beneath the banners, of their schools of thought.
followed by the lesser lights,
and those,
obscure or forgotten,
who walk at the rear,carrying the gear and
to set the tent poles.
as to the other side,
that is given to,
the seminaries of religion;
bhuddism, taoism,
islam, hindu, juche,
rastafarian, sikh, diasporic, parsis, tenrikyo,
judaism and christianity
with all its clans.
they array themselves in cadres,
according to belief.
and to the rear,
there rides,
an interesting guerilla band,
of intertestemantals,
about 3 or 4 hundred years wide.
these are the few who are accounted for,
when god spoke nothing,
or perhaps
a lot but the message just got lost.
they number in their disparate clan,
alexander the great, ptolemy, the hellanic masses, seluecids, maccabeans, hasmoeans
and pompey the great,
not all, but the noteworthy.
across the divide,
by arrowing thought
were fought rallies of acumen
and battles of wit
and occasionally,
a persipacious fire was lit.
but there is one more player,
to mention.
apathy,
the great hulking ******
who for want of gumption, and get up and go,
sat crouched,
(quite uncomfortably so)
on a spire.
made of mediocracy,
cemented by woe,
in the iddle of the rifted abyss.
unable to decide
with which team to go.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
"Have you ever sailed across an ocean, Donald? On a sail boat surrounded by sea with no land in sight. Without even the possibility of sighting land for days to come. To stand at the helm of your destiny. I want that, one more time. I want to be in the Piazza Del Campo in Sienna. To feel the surge as ten race horses go thundering by. I want another meal in Paris, at L'Ambroisie in the Place Des Vosges. I want another bottle of wine. And then another. I want the warmth of a women in the cool set of sheets. One more night of jazz at the Vanguard. I want to stand on summits and smoke cubans and feel the sun on my face for as long as I can. Walk on the wall again. Climb the tower. Ride the river. Stare at the frescoes. I want to sit in the garden and read one more good book. Most of all I want to sleep. I want to sleep like I slept when I was a boy. Give me that. Just one time. That's why I won't allow that punk out there to get the best of me, let alone the last of me."
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 6:25 AM UTC
The world belongs to the nocturnal, the ever present reflexive vanguard whose presence elicits attention,
be it negative or positive.
The crawl to a standstill, the distractions, the regrets:
These are as naught to those whose focus supplants physical duress.
Success is the only road, the path to failure can only be trod by idle feet, hot coals to the promised kingdom of recognition and praise, this must be traversed at all lengths, at all levels, by all means:
Take it.
Hatred or envy does not compare to the rush of achievement, real effort brought to fruition.
Be not afraid to raise your expectations, be afraid that they never rise.
Most of all, love unashamedly and furiously as if no one could weigh in,
the universe bends to the warrior's perspective
Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 6:07 AM UTC
Your family will always be your first line of defense.
If you don't have family then your independence shall be your second.
But if you have obtained a lover let them be your shield and you the sword.
Because a Sword is nothing without a Shield.
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 8:56 PM UTC
The vale of creating souls forsaken my vows,
Descend the nebulous hammer upon my names,
To leash the Moirae to command Eros's bow,
Here lies the broken scroll writ in dying flames.
Round the earth trod Hade's iron red needs,
Upon the vanguard of the auric age to come,
Fear not! For new blooms nap in fertile seeds,
Smash thy jolly jugs and drink thy ***
Fill the rift of every forge with molten ore,
Tis unreal till life illustrate the drying golds,
Against the ethereal anvil of ancient lore,
Which knights in fealty do Aphrodite hold?
Oct 12, 2010
Oct 12, 2010 at 12:38 PM UTC
The candle on the window was a-flickering,
Struggling to draw its light from the waning moon,
With the flames, the east wind was playing,
There as her proud vanguard, already waiting.
The crone herself had arrived at last,
With the clouds promising rain hard on her heels,
Those clouds were mimicking the sharp waves of her stormy hair,
And the spirits were all dancing with the thinning veil.
All raised their glasses to welcome the crone,
All revered the dark mother, whose might could never be surpassed.
They all knew that now they could reap what they had sown,
And sit by the hearth as the winds howled past.
Sep 21, 2020
Sep 21, 2020 at 6:43 PM UTC
Extrapolating time as distance, the last 1000 million years, which is the age of our oldest known rocks, is represented by the distance from here to roughly, 3 city blocks distant.
For instance:
Mankind rose from all fours just 60m down the road… and Christ was born just 60cm away.
This allows the enormity of time to gain credence in the capacity of man to visualize…especially difficult considering the limitation of humankind’s puny lifetime duration of just under 100 years.
But I beseech you… consider the advancement of humanity in that incredibly short span of his existence as a species.
From cave to skyscraper
From raw bones to haute cuisine.
From jumping a metre in the air to manufacturing and implementing a successful research exploration to incredibly distant Mars.
From the snarl of wrath to an intricate debate on advanced mathematics
From faltering first step to Ferrari.
What other species on earth, or as far as we know, anywhere else in the universe… has made progress at this astonishing rate?
What other creature exhibits the drive and compulsion to excel and succeed?
What other creature exhibits the variance betwixt an expression of love in eloquent poetry and a declaration of outright, murderous warfare… to his fellow man?
What other creature has the capacity for infinite creation and absolute destruction?
What other creature even considers these absolutes?
We humans are the vanguard and promise of tomorrow.
We have the responsibility squarely, on our shoulders…to endure, to succeed.
Marshal Gebbie
© 2012 Marshal Gebbie
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 1:53 AM UTC
there is a glacier
partially concealed
melting from a climactic
climate shift revealing a
reality congealed by revolt
rebels burdened with
a philosophy that
elevates humanity
insisting we will not grovel
before a vain messiah
espousing erroneous
iterations of ideology
will the human race permit
the iceberg to dissolve
as vapid reformist
rhetoric inundates our
political consciousness with
pragmatic progressivism
or will we rise in resistance
with the radicals
fists clenched in protest and
hands outstretched to one
another rather than
lifted high in praise to a savior as we
witness the glacier solidify once more
as CO2 perforates our atmosphere
with heady highs and noxious toxins
will we succumb like dumbfounded
addicts intoxicated by inoculation
consuming the opiated semantics
of charismatic personas or will we
challenge the corrupt
with our wits about us
facing the sobering corporate
corporeality with the pride
of lions facing a den of thieves
abandon the chosen champion
of the vanguard party
we stand hand-in-hand
7 billion
sisters and brothers
in an anthemic chorus of
solidarity that shakes the
bastions of the enthroned
with the resounding shouts of
perseverance in our
non-compliant defiance
our manifestos are written
in the blood sweat and tears
we've shed for this
dream deferred
and we will not be the
silent majority anymore
the masque of anarchy
is ours to share
will we wear its visage
or will hell freeze over
before we choose
freedom
over happiness
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 8:00 AM UTC
I wanted to walk out,
I want to walk away
I mean it,
I meant it
Now,
I saw the reflection
Of why I built,
And try to build my walls,
My armor,
My vanguard,
Myself... again
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 8:39 AM UTC
Come bearer of death
oh, carrion crafter
the plains be wrought bereft
oh, we hail forever after!
Be your praise dying cries and blood
you murderer of the weak
raise your armies, a rampant flood
and with ease, crush the meek!
Sire of the end
and vanguard of sin
pray we the world never mend
and light never win!
Jan 11, 2012
Jan 11, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
Vanguard snows blanket
Cougar Mountain sublimity
In the ashen distance between
contrasts of white on white ,
just above the disappearing
Majestic alpine timberline
Painterly allusions cast
a weary and elusive amity,
distinctive premonitions adrift
driven before the wind
The wayfaring wolf looks back,
wind broken , beset
a cold and lonely peace
***Swarthy paw prints
sink deeply
into the will to be***
fiercely stirring purpose
feral awareness keen
existence steadfast
perseverance unwavering
Driven by the power of love
wild is the wind
giving thanks
Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC
I can sense the vanguard of your breath
colliding along the rarely prepared front lines
parading across the nape of my neck.
Hovering above the black moon tattoo I got
when my eyes were filled with factory smoke
from times a grandfather only knows
and my mind had been chaotically mute for centuries.
Lovers in the young West
stalked by dust bowl witnesses
and men who have their own idea
of the Law.
Scatter ourselves upon the prairies
dandelion perfume among the wind
and pray our mothers never know.
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 1:57 PM UTC
Cross over the front lines.
Take siege to the battle field.
Cross fire. ****
Take hold of your comrades hand.
Take hold of their glass eyes, their dead hearts.
Weep. move on.
Wrench the gun from a fallen brother.
The ******** will pay.
Take aim. TAKE AIM! push forward.
Crawl beneath the barbed wire, through the mud, through the filth, through the blood.
Cover your face.
Close your eyes.
Don't breath in. the mustard gas kills.
Take their trenches.
STAB with your bayonet.
Slash with your dagger.
They are the enemy, evil.
Resist with every fiber of your being.
Fight like a trapped dog.
Be shot.
Be stabbed.
die
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 2:14 AM UTC
.
*pale bright yellow infringes
just beneath shadowed drift
of lingering snow
as if a nascent smoldering flickers
breathlessly gasping for light
penetrating cracks on whiter opaque
wondrously drawn skywards
'neath an unseen sky so far away
revealing an obscure warmth
in blossoming will
tomorrows vanguard
unfolding beneath a blanket
that only grows deeper
over the long winter night
a darkest silence borne
beyond frozen time layered depths
in the magic of a moment,
the clouds let the wind stir
the fickle sun's yellow paint brush
and like an burgeoning embryo,
a reclusive hope bursts forth
metamorphosis within
an all encasing hidden evolution
the wind whispers an audible sigh;
a sole daffodil peeks out
from enveloping darkness,
casting out the memory
a beautiful light hidden within
words in the wind*
... February 28th, 2017 and counting
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 10:46 AM UTC
When I was two
I was told
What to do.
When to sleep,
When to eat,
Sometimes
When to pooh.
That's okay,
In fact, it's cool,
I was two,
Not yet in school.
I can't dismiss
That life of bliss.
When I turned six
I started school;
For sixteen years
I followed rules.
I got Qualified,
I got Certified,
I got Bone Fide,
I shoulda been Beatified.
I did what I was told.
I was sold.
I enjoyed
Middle-class life,
Rising early,
Then late at night.
Worked for the man
As best I can;
Reaped rewards,
Came out unscarred
Because I was
A rules vanguard.
I'm older now,
There's no rules,
So don't tell me
What to do.
But, there's one thing
I'll tell you.
Success isn't measured
In cars and homes
(there's some success in chromosomes),
Just follow rules
To your advantage;
You're not weak,
It shows your courage.
Secure the best
For your life's voyage.
Now,
That I'm sixty-two,
Say what you want,
I'm deaf to you.
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 1:49 PM UTC
As a resident of hope village be very thankful -
If for breakfast you have just a cup of water,
Say a big prayer to Baba and be very grateful.
Know ye that someday things will get better!
When stock in Hope Village, be very grateful!
I once lived there and boy, life wasn't so easy,
I remember how I would look so very sorrowful,
Using a bowl of water to shave, that's crazy!
Especially when I used old T-shirt as towel,
And rotated an umbrella as part of my roofing
life was hard but hope was on another level,
I knew that answer to my prayers was coming.
Despite the fact that I lived in abject poverty-
Hope made my condition seemed less pathetic -
All my situation was under God's own authority,
And my goals and objectives were authentic.
Never give up, hardship is only a transit camp.
One day your rescue Angel will come souring,
With solutions illuminated with a bright lamp-
Lights you'll always need as you go hustling!
To the residents of Hope village, never despair-
If wind of change is yet to blow in your direction,
Stay strong Hope village, real rescue is in the air,
It surely will if the Almighty is your connection.
I see you are a resilient bunch, so be very strong!
Though trials will come, hold on and be resolute,
Blessing for those with deep hope never goes wrong,
From a veteran of the movement, I say a big salute!
I pray you will keep to the fundamentals of hustle -
Know that on that very special day of God's reckoning,
Your stars will dance to success' beat, not struggle,
And the village's talking drums will echo your blessing.
Everyone far and near will know reward time has come.
People of hope village, come get your reward for courage,
Say goodbye to yesterday and say to tomorrow, welcome!
Soon, your last sight of the mango trees in your village-
Will be a breathtaking thirty five thousand feet far below.
As the white magic bird climbs hosting your dusty heels,
Sad faces will say bye and friendly faces will say hello.
There you'll know how the answers to your prayers feels!
Someday you will return as a great hero to your village,
To lament on the audacity of hope and your very own story -
With motivational messages to give everyone some courage,
Poverty will no longer be the main topic, it'll be history !
#Vanguard-poetry23
twitter @ivanclappers
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 11:04 PM UTC
To be Ali is to be a lion of God,
a fighter for peace,
a lover of love,
and a vanguard of truth.
To fight the fight of life as if for your life is...
to be Ali.
So for the sake of truth,
love,
light,
life and prosperity,
fight.
#iamAli
The Fugees - Rumble In The Jungle
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 5:42 AM UTC
On a moonlit night, when the sky seemed red
A knight was found,putting a thorny rose, on a firefly's bed
A knight so brave, a hero, who once fought for his land
Yet,the one, he cherished most, withered in his own hand
It was, as if, a love with a fairytale
He sought to offer his life,to simply draw her in a veil
He thought, he knew, it was all, but a fiction in his mind
Yet,he crossed countless rivers,searching for an exit so kind
Such a dazzling light in a place so dark
Having a dance of death, in a forbidden park
He searched and searched for an eternal eternity
Yet,he couldn’t find, even a beginning of desired destiny
He did all, that a mortal could
Even so, he couldn’t find what was misunderstood
The eyes seemed to deceive, as he saw his firefly in the graveyard
The sky began to cry, as he ran towards her, leaving behind his vanguard
Even, if, it was, all a lie,he only wanted to see a glimpse of her light
A light so bright, that could made him the nation's knight
The graveyard turned into the heaven's garden as they embraced each-other
A garden bloomed with roses and dahlias,where butterflies danced without a bother
A sky so imagery, with such a gentle breeze
A sun so warm,lying under the shade of fruitful trees
Tiny chirping birds, played and sang all day-long
Perhaps,this was the place,where she could belong
They spent an eternity in such a brief of time
In a graveyard so beautiful, as if living in a rhyme
Refusing to let the river flow,they spent the happiest while
Untill the knight,saw a thorny rose, from a thousand mile
The heavenly sky began to embrace night, as dark clouds began to form
They knew,it was time,bading farewell,to their little dorm
Yet,they embraced the museum of destiny while praparing to leave with a smile
When the knight, for the last time,looked at the thorny rose,from a thousand mile
On a moonlit night, with a sky so red
A knight was found lying beside a sparking bed
As vision began to fail, he held onto his crest
When the firefly was seen,lying on his chest
In their own bed, they lied,beside each-other, peacefully forever
Perhaps,this time,happiness reached them,without falling in the slumber
May the birds,together, for eternal, cross boundless,only journeying forward
Untill the end of all,yet none, living among the fireflies,a story, about "love in a graveyard"..
Sep 4, 2025
Sep 4, 2025 at 9:10 AM UTC
Emerging from a distant dust-up,
A lone rider approaches on horse.
The clip-clop gallop grows,
The panting animal is alarming,
Sweat paints and streaks down
The dark hide.
The rider wears a bandana
Over mouth and nose,
Beneath a once white hat.
His clothes are covered with the trail.
Next, he's in the leather tub
With suds from chest to hair,
Shaving cream covering his face,
Mirror in one hand,
Probably a gun on the floor of the tub.
Eyes and nose poking through the foam.
Later, we see the clean, pressed black shirt
From the back, outlining shoulders we know
Have been busy righting wrongs.
He puts a cockey tilt to his hat and pivots
With a Parodi between his clean, straight teeth.
The champion. The underdog vanguard.
Clint.
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 9:14 AM UTC
All through the woodwork lesson
and through a double dose of maths,
he thinks of her, the kiss on the sports
field, the brushing of his lips on hers.
He'd almost cut his finger on a saw,
being preoccupied with thoughts of
her, her eyes through glasses, the
innocence of lilies about her, the way
she looked so surprised, he having
kissed her. Not planned, no he didn’t
plan the kiss, he was just going to talk
with her, get to know her more and
better, when the impulse to kiss, over
came him, as if some rarely seen fish
of the sea had drawn him into depths
he'd not known. He sits on the school
bus, got on before she had, looks out
the window, shy of seeing her, now
wondering what she'd say after that
kiss, her reaction. Trevor says softly
something about the Frump, he doesn't
turn, looks at the kids waiting to get
on the bus, excited, engaged in their
conversations, laughing. He is aware,
that she may be on the bus now, he is
so self obsessed, he can hear his heart
beat, thump through his chest. Trevor
next to him, talking across the aisle,
says something about her, but he isn’t
listening, stares out. He feels as if he's
under a microscope, eyes gawking at
him, words around him. Maybe others
saw the kiss? He didn’t think about that,
never gave it thought. The radio is on,
the music blares, some one is singing
about love and missing her. He relaxes
as the bus move off, senses no one is
aware of the kiss, no talk, or chatter
of it. Even Trevor, who is the vanguard
of gossip, says nothing about that at all.
John is aware she sits across the aisle,
a little bit back. He could possibly see
her, if he glanced over the top of his seat,
but he doesn't, he looks at the passing
scene, trees, hedges, fields, cottages.
He tries to calm his beating heart, the
thump seems almost audible, as if
the whole bus can hear its thump.
He closes his eyes and thinks of her,
the lips kissed, the eyes behind her
spectacles, her mouth, the way her
words were stilled by his kiss, were
drenched in her ****** mouth; he had
touched her, too. His hand had soft
touched her arm, drew her body closer
to him. She smelt of countryside, air,
and hay and fields. Her lips there were
feather soft; he could have slept there,
lay there, brushed the lips, as if a red
butterfly had landed, sought refreshment.
He reruns the kiss, in his head, plays
it over and over. She is there just across
the way; he can almost sense her eyes
on him, like feelers reaching over the
seats to touch him. He opens his eyes,
Trevor has football cards in his inky
hands, he talks of this player and that,
that football team and this, but all John
can think on is the butterfly landing kiss.
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 2:29 AM UTC
"I'm in love with broken.
The weak, the powerless,
Seizable.
I want to help.
Not them, myself.
"Usage,"
A verb.
A synonym for life.
An alias for Marshall.
___________________________________________________
Sparked by a girl I was eyeing at the Vanguard performance. She was beautiful with pale skin and dark hair.
Her thigh gap was as large as possible.
Aside from the Jews in the Holocaust, she was one of the skinniest people I've seen.
God. What the hell.
Why must they all be broken?"
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
Birdy, mind your ears: my howls dash the desert’s edge
My passing gusts will matt your feathers fair and faint
And scratch your eyes of liquid soul with grainy kiss
And gentle downy is unsuited for the desert’s bipolar breadth
Accompanied by what I fear is desperate, decrepit depth
Yet you flutter further in the flats, breaching the jagged heart-planes
Doleful dabs of curt dismay smatter some sodden planes
The wrenching, soaked, woolly pelt fumbles at the edge
And he hopelessly attempts to slow his slide into the depths
The depths ****** in dew to make heaving paws faint
Paws drowning in imbued imbalance: my broken flooded breadth
Washed out and faded just short of amber kiss
Who does he yowl at night to kiss?
A range of mismatched capricious planes
Breath for miles of biome breadth
Between each bound a splitting edge
As fate would weave, his heart is faint
And craves impassioned, tender depth
Perhaps the hiemal hillsides bear a greater, sanguine depth
Beneath the snow are pines to smell, daffodils to kiss
Amid the pungent, frigid, fear the air contains a faint
Hint of something sweeter there, buried in the planes
And when the blunt ice trickles warm, beneath the caustic edge
A range of life of a new kind: unbeguiling breadth
Who forsaw the vanguard hunch of birds and bears for breadth?
Not I believed that birds could dive in deserts and find depth
Not I believed that bears could whet love from sharp edge
Not I believed, thus almost missed, fate’s gentle ghostly kiss
Not I believed and thus I blew dark clouds across the planes
Not I believed in him, thus it was I who was so faint
And in the meadows lions crawl and crocodiles faint
And happily, with wherewithal, the boa to gaur breadth
All coexist in mystery perplexing on placid planes
Burrowing through sand and snow, birds and bears find depth
Jumbled earth and tumbled thoughts, a misty morning kiss
Stitches the bipolar planes and hems the obscure edge
Across the crystal planes you see their trusting dives to depths
The bird’s faint singing drifts through waves as it explores the breadth
The bear’s protective kisses peek just beyond the edge
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
I can only hold my breath so long,
Before the sirens echo around me
Yet asphyxiation seems so wrong
How can you love what you refuse to see,
Oh well, hold on to whatever will get you through, what ever makes you belong
Who do you love?
I can see through, to ya love,
Who do you love?
Do you love me?
OR just the thought of me?
I think the latter is the matter,
The problem in your skin,
Take your head, and make it spin.
Roll it off your neck
Blow the Job you do so ‘well’
I mean what the heck
**** your toes, burn in hell
Because from the bottom of your soul you’re a soiled mess
A cluster **** of paranoia and stress
Using and digging like a poor and dying *****
Seeing shadows play lamp light out across your floor.
Letting go takes a step forward,
On beaches of brighter days, sun burning your flesh
In its indifferent rays.
What puts a folded heart inside a lovers hands?
The anti-gravity that tells you to stay the hell away from me.
Depravity in your shallow soul-called-cavity makes this man
Truly understand.
Letting go takes time, a focus unlike anything.
Letting go takes love, that burns the candle of hate
TO emaciate, the marrow that creates blood for your mind so narrow.
Stung and dumb, and young and fake
You have no more love to take—
Not from me or the love locked in that position,
You and I are atomic fission
Listen,
You are my friend—you’re misunderstood
But your heart is infected with pain and to heal it should
Give up on the strings dripping poison into it’s chambers
Keep testing me,
Keep ingesting me,
Keep molesting me,
Just protect your situation
Waste that carnation
Take your mental vacation,
But as you push aside the things you don’t want
I’ll be out to war, the vanguard Avant.
I can stop a train, clocking 80miles-per-hour
But your hairs not long enough to save you from your tower.
That rises as I fall, I can’t take the speed it’s moving at,
Though honestly, for you, I’d never stop the train.
Because you need to grow into a real life,
Away from the fantasy of your ignorant head
So you can be a stay at home wife
So you can **** in bed,
And be divorced for trying so hard,
Even when your hubby went limp
And once you’re truly jarred
You’ll realize that you are just a shrimp
Headless into cock-tail,
Your chitin shell so frail
Mar 15, 2011
Mar 15, 2011 at 8:34 AM UTC
My Greatest Love
Stacked or filling your vision with promise of yet experienced passion and unforgettable delights
The warm embrace you evoke in deepest contours of the heart mind and soul ever turning
Anticipation running fingers down your spine knowing the volumes you speak in the quiet nights
Ever suggestive you spill out onto the floor with great patience you just lay in a comfortable pose
Your beauty attested by scholars and men of taste the world over your hominess held in regard
You travel with such light agility you fit in so well able to go unnoticed ever constant and faithful
With quickest wit you rise to ever situation conservation in yourself you stand as a true vanguard
Wealth you give from boundless pages that stir concepts and ideas with a burning that never diminish
Some say with the passing of time you are being left behind out distanced by more sophisticated ideals
Try as they may tried and true goes the distance when others vanish you always spell undying grace
The test has been proven time and time again you endure always new you free inhibition truth you seal
Without question my heart deepens in your grand presence you tell of worlds to be visited rest is found
To you I make a vow as then the years have only increased my interest no matter what your condition
I will be true make adjustments when necessary maybe enlarging your words to be better defined
Your gifts in youth they have emboldened me they were the structure I needed a sure sound foundation
In opening the cover I see why I have loved and always will love you my ever faithful books.
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 12:01 AM UTC