"weild" poems
I will re-visit
The modern picts,
The viking border people
Comparing *******
And slapping bellies
While giving dheagh shlainte.
They've plundered their last village;
It's been a while since they protected the walls
While sleep sets in.
They raid the pubs,
Raise a glass shield,
Weild a shot glass
Singing shlainte,
The dragon ships have sailed.
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 9:55 AM UTC
How do you get me excited ?
When the evening breeze tares
my thoughts of you .
When the mental images taxes
my reason of right and wrong
When your words tease
my desires for you .
When I just crave your touch .
When I wish to touch your face .
To press lips together ,
savoring your breath .
To sigh heartwise without
the disguise of fear .
Take eternal the heaven of hugs
from your breast .
To share dreams that dance
like phantoms in the flames
of eternal love .
Weild the wild luster
embedded in my soul
from the ages past .
Longing in depth's decisions ,
made and bled ,
for a future truth .
My how you excite me !
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
People you love
Who know your whole life
They know how to get you
They cut like a knife
You feel great pain
With every word they say
When there are no words
You hear their echoes prey
This brings me to wonder
If it ever occurs to you
That others feel
The same pain you do
When you act in ways
That cut like a knife
Even towards people
Who don't know your whole life
I wonder if you hear yourself
And some of the words you say
And if you hear them
Do you say them anyway
I wonder if you know
How hard it is to love you
When you lash out like this
Toward those that try to
Love you in a moment
Love you in a day
Love you in a month
Love you in their own way
I wonder this because I have felt
Some of the pain you have dealt
Things you've said
Others you've done
All the while I'm trying to love
The person you've become
This brings me to wonder
If my skin is too thick
Because you don't see the blood
Once my heart feels the *****
I try not to tell you
As I can weild a deadly knife
And by trying to hide it
I may be causing more strife
I don't want to hurt you
Or throw things back in your face
Please forgive these errors of mine
My heart is in the right place
September 15, 2009
Hello Poetry Exclusive
Sep 15, 2009
Sep 15, 2009 at 6:59 PM UTC
The second hand a rapier
The hour hand, a longsword
And the minutes are my claymore
Armored with the twelve as I push forward
The face is the shield
The gears inside by my command spin or yield
My arsenal is time itself, ticking as I walk
Slaying all of my fears with each sound of a tock
The seconds are my soldiers, loyal and true
The hours are my guardians, great, but few
The moments are precious, hold them dear
Time is the ultimate force, weild it to control eternity
Take control of your destiny
Reinforceing dreams considerably
There is a person and future for which I weild tick and tock
And I have the aid and power of an ever revolving clock
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
Here I sit still, awaiting the answer,
Awaiting this testament,
Awaiting my retreat.
For soon will these
Closed doors be locked and unopened,
Or pushed to let light in, unshut and unsheathed.
A poor fool am I, who sits on her hands.
Talking in melodies, but ne’er across the land.
Whose voice is a weapon, but only in mind:
In soul, but not earth,
In heart, but not time.
The people have chosen, we stand in defeat.
No triumph,
Their triumph,
Inequality: not deceased.
We’re Animals, savages- away from the fields;
Asleep;
Unmoving;
No weapons to weild.
In silence, pure silence, I seek my revenge.
I seek out their vengeance, But only with eyes.
My mouth is tucked inward, held fast at the henge.
No words will escape me,
Nor actions,
Nor lies.
My heart is not true, so they say, so
I trust.
But my mind does not falter,
I know what is just.
For am I a lost cause?
I know it, I’ve seen it,
I’m not even true in my mind.
But Hope is a strong friend, an outcast as I am:
An outcast that oft leaves me blind.
And now I sit still, awaiting an answer,
Awaiting this testament
Awaiting my retreat.
My heart is a closed door, awaits to be opened.
Pushed to let light in, unshut and unsheathed.
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 4:35 PM UTC
I'm surrounded by cotton-bullet people.
They do not want to fight.
They do not like to be hit.
I know--
I tried a million times to wrestle;
They wanted no part.
I'm surrounded by cotton-bullet people.
But I'd rather weild a greatsword--
Don't care if it knocks me down,
I lose my balance--
How else am I to learn to pick myself back up?
I'm surrounded by cotton-bullet people.
They shy away from me,
And expect me to shy from them--
From everything.
But how am I to live that way?
Will it scare them when I am bold,
And unafraid?
Am I right that I should prepare myself
To withstand
Whatever battles may come?
Or am I just a silly, sentimental *********
Filled with ideas about fighting for honor,
And about feeling Alive.
I'm surrounded by cotton-bullet people.
But I long to hit and be hit.
Hard.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 10:20 AM UTC
Run ragged in moments
Of exhaustive length,
Frantic in metophores
Bewildering strength,
Blinded when critics
Weild axes of death
And asphyxiate quick
In the absence of breath.
Atonement for platitudes
Laid in the path
Of keepers of virtue
Who knew how to laugh
And agreement in principle,
Patterned or plain,
For doing the damage
And shouldering blame.
Marshalg
@theCoalface
Victoria Park Tunnel
13 May 2010
May 12, 2010
May 12, 2010 at 8:18 PM UTC
You are a spectrum of danger,
thrown out on the battle field,
a molecular dark riding ranger,
and it's not like a fire,
or a sword that you weild,
A molecular biology occurring in dark,
I,
I can't think in this way,
a bonding of agents-
to fuse from a spark,
creating raw chemistry,
it's why I want you to stay,
Microelectronicmechanical bits spawn,
under such dangerous conditions,
I eagerly anticipate the coming of dawn,
my knees fall weak again,
as you break down more inhibitions,
Sweetly I just can't resist,
despite all the effort I give,
I tip my neck back - as I enlist,
and relish the moment occurring,
an still I hope that I'll live,
No way to fight in this passion,
no one else to come rescue me,
been too long with a ration,
a twinge of unhinged desire,
I close my eyes,
adjusting to see,
It's a magnetism in chemical vibration,
from lack of sweet frequency to come,
an even from deep satiation,
I inhale a last - b r e a t h,
as all my defenses- undone,
I open my eyes an you're gone again,
along with the shining of sun,
As I lay covered - head to toe
in your weaponized Smartdust.
Ma Cherie © 2017
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 1:23 PM UTC
Lets talk
About my power
Its very simple
And very common
We all use it
A pen.
Writting words
Of pain
Love
Joy
Hope
On paper
This powerful tool
Has been weilded by many.
It has the power
To tear countries apart,
Bring about peace
And put into place
Laws to protect
Us and the future
Of lands.
I can write with it
And hurt everyone around me
I have done it
Many times over
Now the final bit of power
I weild from it
Will be my own undoing.
So be careful
With this power
Protect and use it wisely
This pen can create
Or destroy
Which will you choose?
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 1:30 AM UTC
Palms cupped in gratitude
Graced by the Guru my,
Heart runneth over
Aum tastin' like devotion to me
Adorned upon Shakti
Like a sari, sway fluid
I Deer Park it, dharmabomb,
Narayan, God Zeus it
Thunderbolts expressed through this vishuddha
Creative flow I weild like a sword
And touch samadhi like the largest *****
Datz da 'skin' if you ain't knew it
I get nerdy like a student
And will spiritual Warrior ll it,
In the face of foolishness
Fearless the Path
I protect, and vow dat
Like a buddhist
Oct 1, 2020
Oct 1, 2020 at 5:15 PM UTC
The garden of Eden is no place for fools, but you somehow made your way in
Every step tainting the very ground you walk on, every touch turning flowers and trees to stone
If only you left this place alone
My home
My sanctuary
Is not for you to own
Yet you still weild a trowel and rip up all that I have honed
But what you don't know
Is that I am not helpless
Just because you are destructive doesn't mean I can help myself less
Less than, is all you see me as
Not realizing that I'm more than just a piece of ***
Take a step back
And look at the mess you think you've made
Invading the beautiful glade I call my own
A garden now made of stone
Cold and heartless regardless of the sun shining down
Turns out that sun is now covered by rain clouds
Thunder booming loud
Turn around
See the rain pouring, hear its sound,
Are you proud?
Of all that you have done
You, a hurricane, just having a little fun
But now its time for you to run
Tracking mud over the path of which you came from
But little do you know
That one day you will atone
And that one day
This garden, now of stone
Will, over time, be eroded by the rain
And will return to the mud you have created
Left to regrow, on its own, once again.
Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 2:51 PM UTC
4/12/17
At 8pm, it is the changing of hats
in assisted living
It is time I releive a woman
from sitting in the dark
waiting for our paycheck to die.
She survived one more shift.
it is my turn at this game of russian roulette.
I meet so many strangers this way,
Each night before I sit, and wait for doors to close
I take oppurtunity to watch one open
Ask the new surviver to tell me their story.
and Write them down.
she moved across the countrey
away from her sister
a divorce from her beleifs.
sister Against God.
I empathize
How hard to move across The world,
pack up your morals
move in with your ex sisters ex husband.
I promptly told her I was polyamorous.
That my lover moved to ireland
To live with her husband
Packed up everything
She did not flinch.
I held this stranger
as she cried on my shoulder
She
in the fifteen moments I saw her
Realized
the world of differences between us.
She can find comfort in solitude
never once knew what I thought
of her Morals
How In my family
we celebrate divorce
how all burning houses are Phoenix fires
abusers can nametag forever
nametag your body is my body
Nametag husband
I worry for her safety.
A woman who doesn't beleive
in the word stop.
Doesn't consider leaving
my biggest fear is those
afraid to weild the word no.
to close the door.
she closes the door
I sit in the dark to my journal
I write down this poem beside a dying man.
the next contestant releives me at 8am.
I pass her the revolver.
I have survived this round of russian roulette.
He died the next night
and it does not feel like winning.
I live in the world of
revolving doors and revolvers
I wish to be the bullet.
pass through their skull as they go
see what they were thinking
In that last moment.
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 2:43 PM UTC
The blood on my hands holds no shame
The more I **** the higher my fame
A god of war I claim my throne
For all my sins I could never atone
The righteous I trample under my feet
They are full of lies and deciet
My crimes I wear proudly on my sleeve
I have no reason to decieve
I hold the keys to eternal judgement
I mead out the rewards and punishment
There is blackness on every soul
Life on earth has taken it's toll
If i could I'd wipe every slate clean
But that is well beyond my means
The system is set, the rules in stone
As is the marrow to the bone
You think me evil, you think me cruel
Remember I'm not the One who made the rules
The scales I hold are balanced and true
As long as you have paid your due
You see no one enters for free
This is just the way it has to be
So toil your lives away in the field
And hope you bring in a high enough yield
Me I'd rather weild my sword
And claim I **** for the Lord
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 9:48 AM UTC
Harness the sun.
-
I have in my holster
A ball of light
Hold it tightly!
Burn every soul
All are cold,
The world is night.
-
With the power of might
The sun at my side,
(Fearful fearful.)
-
Infinite energy
I have in my holster
The sun of all light
The sun is stinging: I with it's might.
The power I weild is the power of light.
-
It cries for revenge
But I'll not let it go further
I am the matter, the sun in my holster.
-
Scream! Gutteral roar!
The cry of the nations!
The sun in my holster.
Power is power-
My frame unshaken!
In my holster- the infinite sun
The infinite God,
The sun of all suns.
Defense isn't needed
With the sun in my holster
The God I've succeeded, the sun will not smolder
The God I succeed:
The sun in my holster.
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 9:05 AM UTC
You awoke in the blackness
A ghost in the kitchen
A weight pinning you to your bed
And here's the interesting thing
About ghosts and spirits and such
Not because I dislike them
Not because I wish them ill
Not because with reason and wit,
Should I weild my pen
and ****
But because
The subtle things are often missed
Things that are better
Than all of this
Are hard to see
With the pressing of the moment
When right and wrong
Are both their most strong
When true and not
Make all else to be forgot
But in the cracks the scientist stoops
Finding missed information
Little treasures and reminders
Of what was lost
In the gap
The smallest of oversights
The alternate worlds
Of pancake batter cooked
with the children
On a Saturday since forgot
Or the trace of *****
on the couch
From the love made last Christmas
The dna of a lover
Hiding under your nails
In our presence
But also separate existence
The shortcut of a conversation
Where words were said
But those heard were not
How is it different from that spectre?
A trick of the stimuli
A preset of the brain
Or remembering that place
Where I last put my keys
But they aren't there.
I find them in a space
But I know I didn't put them there
It must be a ghost!
But if a ghost it be
Does it want me to see
It's misty form
Or hear it's clamber in the next room?
Or is it a subtlety
Come to visit me
And show the moments
Of my life
Lost in the crevice
Never even noticed
Dec 6, 2020
Dec 6, 2020 at 10:31 AM UTC
Who would you be without words.
Without the innate ability to weild
A sharp and bitter taste
To be left without them
No more music no books no conversation no jokes no movies
You've lost the solace of words
You've lost the shield of language
You're losing it.
Even a dog recognizes it's name.
But soon you won't.
Who what when how
Its all words
Without them
What are you.
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 3:33 AM UTC
I hate being a damsel in distress,
Lying on the railroad tracks
with a villian laughing behind me
I’ve always fought back
Tie him up instead,
let him squirm in the coral snake pit
I’ve never liked being saved,
Seen as fragile and weak,
Standing here with my pretty dress and rose-petal cheeks
No, I’m not fragile, I’m not weak
I prefer boots over slippers
Trousers over skirts
I’m not some poor, defenseless litte princess
I know how to weild a sword
But then my knight came along,
And while I’d still fight,
There were battles I could not win,
Not without him
And when I collapsed beneath the dragon’s feet,
My knight came
Weilding a sword of tear-stained steel,
The metal reinforced with soul mates’ heartstrings
And he was brave, slaying the dragon
Even as I tried to get back up on my feet and say “Nay!”
The great beast fell, and my knight turned to me
Eyes glimmering with fear
“I know you prefer to defend yourself,
But it looked like you needed me here;
I couldn’t just let him devour you.”
I stepped forward, booted feet suddenly light
And surprised him with a crushing hug.
“Thank you,” I said, “thank you.
I will owe you forever for this, my knight.”
He smiled at me, relief lighting his face, and replied
“All I need in return is you by my side.”
We sealed the promise with a kiss.
But that still doesn’t make me
A damsel in distress.
I’m a knight, too, just like him,
And we save each other.
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 7:28 AM UTC
Maybe it's true now
Like it was true way back then,
You'll never quite meet the president
And you'll end up back home again.
Sometimes in the distance,
You can hear the horsemen ride.
Maybe we could fight to our death,
Maybe we could run and hide.
So send your sons on to the battlefield
Send your daughters to a rich man's bed,
At least it won't be empty, the sword they weild
And we all fall down.
Don't you like to remember the good ol' days ,
When the sun burned in the sky?
When your girls liked to live by their husband's hand,
And the good boys went off to die?
Oh you may not meet your maker ,
'Cause he's left his home in the sky,
So I guess it's just the few of us
Meant to live, pay in, and die.
So send your little boys to the battlefields
Send your daughters to a rich man's bed
Go ahead, let us pay for you,
And we all fall down.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 12:53 AM UTC
The duties of the heart,
And the duties of the home,
Happen to be the same.
They both scream you.
But with the heart of a wolf,
I will never abandon the girl I love.
I am a soldier,
And I will cut down all before me,
No matter how glorified the evil.
And if I must,
I will weild my weapon with one hand,
And cover your eyes with the other.
Just know,
I will do what is required of me,
To protect this homeland,
And to protect you.
No matter how many men must die,
No matter how many rounds I must fire,
I will return to you.
And I will rest until the next fight,
When my soul builds to full strength,
And I know I cannot lose,
Not with you beside me.
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC
I cannot speak of my emotions,
my mouth freezes, tears do not fall
My insanity pours out from my pen,
it slips down my fingers and splatters the keyboard
with blood
I cry
I wonder why
I cannot SPEAK the truth of my heart,
all I can do is weild my pen;
write.
These words can fly into the sky
fluttering iridescent wings,
high on the love and despair
of teenage affairs
They fly through the eyes
of fellow young minds
Light up the deadzones inside
with my voice
I write because I cannot speak,
I write to share my mind
with the ones I love
and with the world
take my words
and fly.
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
In know
I'm not strong enough
I'm not in control
I weild top much power
I weild without discipline
Power means not a thing
If you can't control it
I know
I have failed you
Bitter disappointment
Dreams of love wasted
Promises broken
Sometimes you have to lose
To learn how to win
I know
But you don't know I'm sorry
You wouldn't believe me
You don't want to
You can't
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 1:29 AM UTC
F***, I'm so bad at this lyrical translation
With Rhyming words a fabrication
Spews fourth from my mouth to screen
No mind or hand- or medium between.
Just thoughts unadulterated raw
Unconsciously weild with grammatical awe
Feb 17, 2024
Feb 17, 2024 at 9:17 PM UTC