"vindicating" poems
You are my last cigarette.
The flimsy promise
I shakily whisper,
Whilst balancing you between my lips.
I try not to anxiously stare
As I strike the match, and
Ignite the fiery passion
That was once our love.
Forever committing,
To the hazy mirage,
That this will be the last time we meet.
You are my cancer.
The burning tar that
Slithers down my throat,
Nests in my lungs, and
Corrodes everything you touch.
Nothing more than
A relentless distraction,
You take my breath away, and
Replace it with ashes;
Invading my every thought with ease.
Oh, how I long to gently
Wrap you in my fingers, and
Press you cautiously against my lips.
I realize now, that our love
Is far from healthy.
Somehow,
You've become my disease.
You are my craving.
The subtle aroma that lingers
Around every corner.
Your taste; your warmth; your smell;
Biting my nails and tapping my fingers.
You are no where to be found,
And yet, I can't escape you.
They tell us we don't belong together;
In the end, I know it's for the best.
It might be hard now,
But eventually -- I hope.
I'll forget all about you.
You are my mistake.
The temptation outside the bar
In which every shot of tequila
Makes slightly more attractive.
Toxic desires hurl me at your doorstep,
Only vindicating my inability
To resist your familiar touch.
My thoughts race recklessly
Along a jagged terrain of
Joyful satisfaction, and
Regret-filled tears.
No longer in control,
I am at your mercy.
You are my last cigarette.
The déjà vu mocking
My consciousness, and
Nightmare haunting my slumber.
When I awake the next morning,
Cradled in your arms, silently staring
Into your arrogant, crooked grin.
I'll replay the words in my head
That I've come to know so well.
"You are my last cigarette."
And then I'll kiss you,
One last time.
Jul 13, 2012
Jul 13, 2012 at 4:29 PM UTC
Look at the current state of affairs
and ask yourself this:
"Would it be at all outlandish
that they're creating enemies deliberately
in order to justify their existence?"
They **** off those they wrongfully oppress
until they can justify violent, martial law like suppression.
Either through the self-fulfilling prophecy of psychology
or through some projection or perhaps manifestation
it does seem that the New World Order thrives on demagoguery;
deliberate deception and misdirection of the masses
and then riding that artificial current
to their own sick, annihlistic ends.
If it is true and I am eventually kidnapped for this type of speech,
I won't back down for a second; I will defend my voice unto my very last word:
"All I've done is speak my mind, thank you for vindicating my words."
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 6:39 PM UTC
XI
And therefore if to love can be desert,
I am not all unworthy. Cheeks as pale
As these you see, and trembling knees that fail
To bear the burden of a heavy heart,—
This weary minstrel-life that once was girt
To climb Aornus, and can scarce avail
To pipe now ‘gainst the valley nightingale
A melancholy music,—why advert
To these things? O Beloved, it is plain
I am not of thy worth nor for thy place!
And yet, because I love thee, I obtain
From that same love this vindicating grace,
To live on still in love, and yet in vain,—
To bless thee, yet renounce thee to thy face.
1.3k
how do you justify a head spun so spun from a virtual verbiage virtually vindicating a long lost ideal supposedly lost in the war, practically lives ago. closed eyes like picture frames for a face so quickly etched into their very own new and nervous neurons. novel indeed but hardly new, reminders and reminiscence of made mistakes recovering from the back burner blindside. yesterdays regrets dont matter much in this dream and a refusal to awaken is the only option. it's only what you've been waiting for if you recognize it when it passes you by on the boulevard. Numerous enough are my days for me to understand the importance of open eyes for blinking is risky with this vision. ice ages have taken hold and regressed since the last time that friendly chemicals werent responsible for such an onslaught of smirks. the concept of "we", of "us" something subsurface unseen yet present with a strong presence presenting preconceptions upturned and made moot. you frighten me in the best way. the best kiss my lips never received, from the pacific with love. from the sea itself.
Jul 10, 2011
Jul 10, 2011 at 12:37 PM UTC
Consider what fuels your love
what keeps that fire burning
is your love epic, written in the stars
or on the verge of extinction, like Mars
Would you walk in darkness for love
tread on the threads of opinion
call their misgivings to fault
make brave your convictions
with vindicating retorts
Could you with free spirit
call to angelic forces
bring light to those with dimmed eyes
the sad, broken and the fallen
Would you hold a hand in comfort
no matter their crimes
leave an echo of kindness for mankind
loving whispers of a good Earth
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 1:33 PM UTC
Breathing heavily under the vindicating bandana,
Skipping steps over the rain soaked grey.
Partners in an ecstasy of divilment,
Their paths plait through the crowd to the meeting place.
The adrenaline only can last for so long.
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 8:13 AM UTC
Savage lands bare all life, depraved -Progress reaped from primal battles waged
Be vandal, than gentle dweller,
Counted by more viscious prey;
Hardpressed to walk
Eternally amongst the grave.
To have grown to know my ailments
and remain unnervingly Divine
One would surmise:
This Woman must have
always courted pain.
I sense within my core
The fiercest of hearts in shackles -
Felled by a love's entrancing beauty
As would burn bright a spreading flame.
She walks, though implicit of my crimes!
With pressed lips,
Cheating mine of innocence.
The culprit, cradled by the night, remains;
With choice of stolen hearts and minds.
The cost to free a fire-tempered soul
And find her love an altruist un-chained.
To have valued devotion
and thus I write Divine
She embraced the beast
Within this ruthless man.
A Moonlit piano sings of life's great works.
A starlit night framed for adoration.
Like your ever vindicating love,
Not the least of Guilty men dare question.
Between starved lines of manifested fears,
Might I find a new Lenoire in waiting.
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 3:27 AM UTC
Do not justify to them,
folks who matter not.
Ones who only chatter and flatter,
but fail to discern you.
Bulk 've seen me in tangles of sort,
Never ratted anyone-
not my time's worth.
Been in affairs where others condemned,
not knowing the story.
I was the dupe,
'cause I didn't share.
But I distanced myself,
for my own good.
What's the point of vindicating,
when you know the truth?
They may hurl abuses,
say hurtful things.
It is okay,
for they can say.
Better than spending time-
defending oneself.
Look for the ones who matter,
ones who believe in you.
I am not a fellow,
others would know inside out.
I ain't an open book
Chatty yet faintly share things,
other than the daily odds.
Sharing ain't my forte,
be it whomever.
You know me vaguely,
through things I let you 'ear.
I 've gone through worse,
you predict not.
But it is okay,
and it's fine.
I 've the one to talk to,
my solitary- as always welcoming.
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 2:12 AM UTC
WHY MOURNING
Do you know anyone who doesn’t die?
Who hasn’t died?
Who will not die?
Not I.
How to accept?
Not mourn?
Think through to not have pain,
(For pain seems fruitless), for
To not accept
Is like rejecting sun and moon,
Existence, proven, measured, seen.
Do I lament when atoms split?
Grieve, regret,
Have sadness that I can’t get over.
Nover*
Doesn’t.
Pain [we have] when others die –
That ‘other’ human, cow or dragonfly.
The local forester sawed down a fir
Which was for sure,
A hundred fifty years or more.
I mourned,
Stump and its rings all it passed down.
Is it absence or remembrance?
Is it longing for a something now a non-thing non-existing?
Is it clinging to a someone
Over whom we have no power,
Never had? Could it be wrong-er?
Fate and destiny his, hers or its
Through all of time and history.
I cannot think of one good reason
Vindicating mourning.
Were we meant for suffering?
Though I [clearly] cannot clarify,
We’re seeing wrongly,
Thinking strongly wrongly,
Wrought of ego’s braggadocio,
The hallowed hoaxer of emotions.
*Nover: me, born Arlene Faith Nover
Why Mourning 11.4.2017
Birth, Death & In Between III; Nature Of & In Reality; Revelations Big & Small; Circling Round Reality; Circling Round Egos;
Arlene Corwin
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 7:54 AM UTC
Ambush in the Sun
Ambush in the Moon
Ambush in the Front
Ambush in the Rear
Roaring-fear rocking fiery skies
As blood cascading torrentially
From the faces of rough cliffs
But we have sown in tears
On the fertile soil of destiny
Made by the Hand
That rocks the Cradle
Our sacrifices shall speak
In thunder at the portal of glory
Our harvest shall come bountifully
In vindicating glory assurance
Surely rain of glory shall fall in glory
And petals of harvest shall boom
As blooming petals of a glorious dawn
In meadows of eternal splendour.
May 21, 2023
May 21, 2023 at 12:11 PM UTC