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s Nov 2018
Egg
you sit on my back
like a chicken on an egg
with a mocking flap,
shuffle and a wiggle
tucked and stacked -
chuckle and a giggle.
both - joke and cuddle
- die as they're written though;
but could I risk to memory -
forgetting that tableau ?
--

as I sit to study
our curiosities -
creating patterns & poems
of contradicting absurdities;
listening to the jugalbandi
of predictability & tease,
instigating the battle
between curiosity & belief,
how we manoeuver differences
with a pursued kind of ease -
love sits quiet,
amused but revealed,
its appetite appeased -
with a wholesome kind of meal.
Blade Maiden Jul 2018
Sometimes I ask myself
when did my thoughts and hopes of blue and green
turn into violet worries, violent dispositions
When did this soul with its empty bookshelf
burn all its unwritten scripts of things yet to be seen
and my steady solace turn into a contradiction

I know what I want in life
when I see my favorite pieces of art
scattered accross the canvas of my solitary nights
my cold fingers once touched it and I can count it on all five
I want to believe that I'd be content with really only a shard
to know my dreams aren't just made of imaginary sights

My open heart drives me
in uncertain directions with clear aspiration, sometimes just insane
but always looking, always wanting, always one heart ahead
If my eyes could only look beyond uncertainty and I'd finally see
a way that goes far and will let me travel along a green country lane
If I could feel as if I'd know why it seems so difficult not to be dead.

In everything that had to be broken and shed
these distant promises on remote and empty shores
For only the contingency of all that could be good and whole
Truly not knowing where this road might have led
and still keep my hands open and reaching and breathe in deeply through all of my pores
let me just find one wholesome and abiding content in this burning library inside my soul
A very deep-rooted and emotional piece that just started to flow out of my head into my hands and finally on this page. I'm at a better place today, surely. But there's still so much that feels empty and uncertain and not.. quite right. And things sometimes seem so hopeless and sad in such strangely and terrifyingly normal ways. It's difficult to hold on to things that you want to live for. Here's to all the blind but necessary hope!
Ryan Joseph Aug 2018
Millennial is what called in this generation,
Everywhere here and there,
There are always youths who really never care,
And never been worried about their future.

In Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and Messenger,
Are contents of follower, liker, reader and including seener,
Loitering and using fake accounts just to gain a wholesome money,
Even though that it is notorious, they still embark their blunt journey.

Most millennials are undisputedly addicted to social media,
Their lives depends on likes they are going to gain,
They don't care if their faces might be inside of multi-media,
And they don't even care if it will give them a pain.

Some truly go beyond their limits just to have a lot of likes,
Perhaps they are fame *****, but they don't care if someone strikes,
Strikes every part of their body including their faces and such,
Yet they don't care if it will hurt them too much.

However, seeking attention in the cyber world isn't a good thing,
Instead they should focus on things that are essentially free like a king,
Because in this generation, too many people are unaware and careless,
And some they didn't even noticed that our environment is already full of fraud either hypocrite and genuine people are less.
millennial nowadays
Yes I might be depressed,
But that doesn't stop me from loving you.
You're the sweetest
A poem every day.
Kiki Shaw Mar 19
the
sincere
perfection
of
love
and
confidence
Based on a blackout poem from an introduction to Lewis Carroll's Alice In Wonderland.
sophia Aug 2017
he was like a written poem carved from the wholesome heart of an ideal poet. he was free and never needed a rhyme or a crested harmonic tone to be complete.
david mungoshi Mar 2016
your coming in with the rising sun
in soft morning light and glistening dew
made me think life could be  a huge smile
and that nothing about you could be a trifle

conversation with you was like lyrical poetry
full of measured tones and profound emotion
words are wholesome food when one is enamoured
you sip their oozing nectar at every sugary pause

your voice was like a heavenly harp magically played
by expert fingers dancing to an inspired melody
that only i and they could hear, and cherish like a dream
thus see me now with my face still ravaged by possibilities

but alas, you decided to take your leave with the dying day
and i knew my bewilderment would last the stretch of eternity
you walked away into the twilight and never once looked back
those who go away with the setting sun do not always rise with it
Brother Jimmy Jan 2015
At times I’ve believed it

And at other times, scoffed,

One of the oldest of pivotal fears,

Mentioned in scripture and stories and hymns,

The execration is stinging my ears.

And throbbing, echoing, clashing rhythms,

With no beat ...such tension… Distortion’s risings,


A march over mazurka decelerating,

Curious uses for curious things,

Intestinal-pullings, intestinal strings,


Every warping conceived by my kind,

Like tearing of flesh and torture of mind,

Nothing that’s wholesome, nothing that’s good,

The truth bent, the opening crude,

The too-thin passageway out, understood

And my own rotting flesh is my food.
chichee May 3
I over-salt the cannelloni
again, you laugh and swallow
my tongue
It's an apple sky, crisp and sweet and something
to sink our teeth into-
the radio plays
something in
double beat
ba-dump ba-dump
Living room hearts.
Hope it made you smile
sian Feb 20
Through the depths of despair
I remained gasping for air
Fresh air, a fresh start
A mended, wholesome forgiving heart

You, a walking paradox,
Me, collateral damage
Maybe one day you’ll rid me of my baggage

Until then, I’ll try to repair the wreckage
Ricky Rose Jul 2011
Alright Jezebel is that not who you are? How much of your soul are you going to sell? With your chest pushed high and your **** in the air. With the smile you bare and the wink you blink. The fruit for the trick to get their fix behind blind eyes. Your secrets hidden away through your faults beauty and enticement. A walk that attracts nothing but the ****. You put your self on the proverbial block. Though on the outside you converted and claim outwardly to the king of kings God and Christ. Though believe like a Pharisee. A marionette innocents for all to see. 
 
Yet even a Pharisee doesn't hold the many lies you've told. For even they are the best known hypocrites that Christ warned and spoke against. Telling everyone your married, or so you say with a bold face. Yet you go out at night to collect your lies by spreading your thighs for material and lust. Helping to destroy families to commit adultery with theirs and your own. You lost your Grace and the Holy Spirit depart.  Now you gain worldly excitement and shame. Living your life amongst the dogs. In a fad life style fed to you. Taking it as wholesome, knowing better. So it is to be said your like a lost little Lam  on your way to self destruction. Without a care of the afflictions. You allow yourself to be used like a Devils tool, yet tell yourself your not a toy.. May it go to show you are becoming Lucifer's proprietary embodiment. Only to think you have the upper hand.
 
Shown by your eyes that is a window to the soul exposing wickedness!
 
Though on the deep inside is there not yet another cloak?? Do you not cry at night with heavy sorrow when you look in the mirror for the truth to be whole and despise the girl you have yet let blossom to become the ultimate woman that is there. Pretending to be some one your not. So you are a lantern in need of a new candle wanting to be rekindled. How cold you must be to have so many layers. But that's what you get when you become a player. A sweet and sour flavor. You say "Don't Hate!" Though to walk up right on the path of truth would attract in your self a better person. Why not  accept your self for the real you. The one mistakenly hidden so deep inside. Is that not who you are? Instead you bed with the heartless desires  you give your self too to become a trophy. The mold you have created of yourself only mocks at the real you. The inner you fading and becoming transparent. Now with out a care you have become fake, vile and foul. Yes he who has no sin cast the first stone. So it should not be thrown. Heavenly Father I pray for her!!!
Axion Prelude Dec 2017
Seasons pass, tempered by insalubrious fervor; treasonous design remiss of fate

An echo of prior songs resonate somber atrophy; mourn the passing of  constant defeat, stained by triumphant dissonance and disdain

Fear strides along the broken path, left alone and solemn and crass: Through sour feats of vindication, tones of plight become dismissed

Surfeit, the sound of temptation rides upon the crest of dawn, blinding darkness like calming waves caressing infinite stretches of sand: soft and warm; kind and welcoming, embracing in its gentle touch

Sentience hides behind a creeping fog, whispering secrets of life eternal, bearing gifts wrought through sensuous candor

Two threads lost, now found; slowly bonding, uniting purpose, rhythm, rhyme, and reason; born from the same cloth, garnering habit, singing in harmony what echoes from within

Beautiful, intelligent, staunch with profundity; stark, handsome, wholesome, and good

The call of a true home may finally beckon..
The most enrapturing, green eyes, gently kissed by hues of orange and blue
Chay May 26
I wish that I was a vsco girl.
A perfect bodied 10 who lives next to the beach.
With tanned skin from those endless summers on the family's boat.
Driving in my white Jeep to see my boyfriend while he is playing at his baseball game.
Only then to come home to my huge house,
to greet my wholesome family.
Oh what a life that would be.
Doshi Apr 11
let's stay horizontal
entwined
feeding
off each other's sweat
and wholesome lies.
(Read the analysis of the poem in notes)

As you caress my naked and barren soul
I look into the darkness and hear your wholesome heart beating against your chest, your golden voice is quite blessed. how much time must I wait to enjoy the rest of your lovely quartet, the lovely music of your body’s melody, the calming voice of a siren singing sweet praises that save my soul and make me feel whole. How delightfully I await the clear sight of you. I imagine a holy fallen angel with beautiful black wings and crescent red eyes with undying, unyielding smiles. I imagine what I would give to join this being, this holy soul, this immortal soul. What beautiful tunes...
I realize now that I’m dreaming.
Reality isn’t this beautiful.
I await the day when I find someone as beautiful, as alive as the dead being in my dreams.

Now I ask...
“Is anyone as honest as a demon?”
“Is anyone as beautiful and cruel as immortality?”
“Is anyone as kind hearted as an angel?”
“Is anyone as pure as the broken?”
“Will I find peace soon...?”
Analysis
In this poem we speak about a being that is beautiful from afar and hides in the dark from shame and fear of being judged.
She hides but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t speak. She one day finds a man who was wounded from battle and hides with him in the dark. slowly the man is enchanted by her voice as she comforts him in the darkness. He sees an image of what he believes is the closest being to her. She sings for him. He realized that he was the one who brought her into existence. this was his dream. He made a friend at the end. But he knew this wasn’t reality and he passes on after asking five questions. He rejoins a reincarnation cycle yet again... what happens after is up to your imagination.

The man dreamed of a creature like this because he himself was hiding from his reality’s because of his terrible war crimes and deep shame, because of it he was looking for hope someone who felt as ashamed even if it wasn’t in the same way.

We speak of the being created from imagination, then we transition into reality. Dreams and illusions are what bring the world joy. The dreams and illusions also help us face reality. It helps avoid pain of the world and process it slower...

The meaning of quartet In this refers to the women’s/ demons/ illusions soul, heart,voice and body.

The reason why I did not put the “personality” instead of “body.” Topic is because everyone isn’t satisfied with spiritual and person connection. They all have to jump into bed, so I figured modern day people might appreciate this more.
A Mess of Words Oct 2018
I can feel my heart
beating against its cage
like a couple missionaries
dressed and pressed
at my door on Saturday
eager to explain to me
the queue into heaven and say
nothing of God

it's night
or morning?
Some muted twilight
seeping through the shades
in a season between the
wholesome seasons
where it's too hot for closed windows
too cold for open ones

I have to measure my
fingers against the bottle
having long stopped counting
the drinks that are downed

I remember you
a bit
the best parts of our
scant fifty-two together

that night
maybe amid the seasons
where the clock sets
all wrong against the
charcoal skies,
but that night,
you bit me

I still feel it pulsing,
electric in my veins

abandon caution
the moment I began my trespass
the way you meticulously attacked
every sense I knew

peeling away all these
unnecessary layers
as the shadows were already
heavy enough
but peeling away
every apprehension
simply to press against you
and let, like butter,

my tongue melt

on your tender skin
Steve Page Aug 2018
Can you lend me a pound of your strength
maybe give me a slice of your chi.
I could do with a dose of your vim
and a dab of your vibrant esprit.

So give me whatever you're having,
let me follow your daily routine.
So long as you allow strong coffee
within your wholesome regime.
I'm tired.  My son is moving to Japan.  My daughter is moving to North London.  My offices are moving to a new build.  All in one week.  And Hamish, the family hound for 16 years, will be put to sleep tomorrow once my son says his goodbyes. I'm tired. Excited for my kids, grateful for the pleasure a family dog brings, but tired.
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