"wholesomeness" poems
Real communication
Has been lost
In the depths
Of the cloud.
True feeling
Is seldom seen-
Now, thoughts
Are shown
Through emojis.
Does anyone feel
The wholesomeness
Of somebody else's
Voice anymore?
The smell of their
Skin, the faces
That they make, or
Simply- their presence.
Conversations are
Much more
Than the words
Typed out on a
Smartphone screen.
People are meant
To actually be
Seen.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 2:07 PM UTC
Luxuria (Lust)
Asmodeus demon of lust
carnal manipulator
****** captor
Castitas (Chastity)
Embracing virtue
honorable wholesomeness
not through one’s weakness
Gula (Gluttony)
The egocentricity
with which the Lord of the flies
upon us relies
Temperantia (Temperance)
practicing restraint
prudence to judge with regard
remaining on guard
Avaritia (Greed)
The Mammon demon
controlling the warmonger
with vows of power.
Caritas (Charity)
Crave unselfishness
give unreserved empathy
love and sympathy
Acedia (Sloth)
Deny grace and God
so evil shall become fact
when we fail to act
Industria (Diligence)
Fortitude is a must
persistence in conviction
zealous for passion
Ira (Wrath)
In its purest form
presents violence and hate
Satan’s fate
Patientia (Patience)
mercy to haters
receiving the grace to forgive
rewards are massive
Superbia (Pride)
Lucifer’s downfall
for excessive vanity
destroys humility
Humanitas (Kindness)
Sympathy without bias
belief without bitterness
inspire kindness
Invidia (Envy)
resentful passion
an insatiable desire
potent cause of dire
Humilitas (Humility)
think of yourself less
and not think less of yourself
don’t exalt oneself
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 3:36 AM UTC
there is nothing quite like
the first bite of a carrot
grown in your own backyard
or the second bite…
or the third…
the first bite is the ecstasy one would find
in wholesomeness
a shock, really
of sweet paradise
from winter wind upon your cheeks in solitude
from petting a wild rabbit with its permission
an unusual high
a remarkable instant
the second bite is deeper
it is more familiar and significant
like the hug you’d give your lover at the airport
like baking cookies with your little cousins on Christmas Eve
when your own spirit is crowned
king or queen
but with an equality like the trees in the forest
rather than a superiority like the ***** in the castle
the third, fourth, fifth
(depending on how big your carrot is)
are mere appreciation and wonder
of life
of your life
cherishing salubrity, company, solace
and it seems when you’re done,
you’re not hungry anymore
and if you are,
all you want is another carrot.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 9:01 PM UTC
are feelings of love felt alone, feelings of love at all?
or selfish yelps for attention borne
of boredom & a sense we only hold on our own
of childish
- - - - idleness.
singularity less; more independence from a whole
the only company he keeps is furniture
together with the furniture of the house he sits,
with seven seats left empty,
the curtains tales appear to grin
without validation from another he feels
like a child standing
the school's final bells rung
the bustle of the day has droned
now dissipated
the bustle of the day irritated
when it droned, he longed for home
for the bus
as he waits for the bus the quiet surrounds hold tight
but hold cold
like a fridge door keeps, it clutches, encloses
the school yard empty
he stands; singular; out of place in the surrounds
the school bleeds terror when empty
The laughs & shouts & jeers & footsteps
keep the wholesomeness whole
empty of shouts
a graveyard now
the ghosts of the day linger
& they finger
your buttons they push
your tenderness they kneed out
they **** (with their cold digits they ****
just like the furniture does.
just like the furniture in the house laughs
when uninhabited
it silently jeers
'Why so many seats mate?' it pokes with its linen digit; fuzzy but cold
as it continues
'you're alone
waiting for someone
to come by and pick u up
& take u back to home
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 9:01 AM UTC
And I know one day,
I'll look into her eyes and say,
"I love you"
With body language, with touch,
When the way she laughs becomes too much.
Fingertips like felt rolling over
Stitched feelings of brokenness,
Diamond eyes catch the unraveling
Of confusion into wholesomeness,
I'm mended, I'm alive, and goddamit
I'm swollen with #pride
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 4:32 AM UTC
#
Almost
found a hope that prevails
reaching for me under a starlit tent
Almost
built a boat that sails
across all oceans as they bend
Almost
filled my book with tales
an anthology of moments I didn't attend
Almost
what a terrible word
holding such a stinging truth
Almost
felt like it's all worth the hurt
while wasting years of restless youth
Almost
called out and haven't been unheard
found something I couldn't lose
Almost
thought any path would get me there
where wholesomeness is not just hearsay
Almost
kept a fire in sight that brought me to where
I would find the light of day
Almost
made them proud of me, made them care
made them listen to what I had to say
And now
from where I stand
a lyrical sadness
paper in my hand
I know this is true
I can almost see you
#
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 2:10 PM UTC
I like calm in my eyes,
They don’t wander anymore,
Searching for something ,
Picking and nitpicking ,
The small troubles of the world.
I love the silence of the void,
It hums me into its stillness,
Takes me everywhere and nowhere,
Places beyond these dimensions,
Away from the all the chatter.
I adorn the nothingness,
It puts a blissful countenance,
It fills my senses to contentment,
I want it and yet it’s nothing I want,
It sends me to the above and beyond.
I feel this harmony within,
Tugging and pulling my strings,
Arranging the notes of my being,
A harmony born out of chaos,
And synchronised into a melody.
My kindled life shining bright,
I see everything in its wholesomeness,
Untouched by the worldly elements,
I embrace now that exists in nothing,
This universe leads me to everything.
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 3:42 PM UTC
I believe
in attachments
like sitting in a chair
smoking and drinking
while thinking about stuff
and I believe
in sleep and laziness
and I don't particularly
like purity or wholesomeness
and I don't even
exactly practice
moderation
so I guess that makes me
an anti-zen buddhist zen buddhist
and I am a good Buddhist
even if maybe I'm not.
Jun 29, 2011
Jun 29, 2011 at 9:20 PM UTC
Sleep well! And may the world you sleep in be kind and the world you dream in be colorful.
Let lust bearing pixies sprinkle their dust
About your room, so when you awake in the morning the dust will dazzle your slippered feet and make your tread to the bathroom a little softer.
And may I (you) wake up in the morning with
Sparkles in your eyes
And wholesomeness in your soul,
And let both the tint and hue in which you see the world through
Be bold and clear,
And soft and dreamy,
Without deceiving
Without sheltering you
And your unicorn dreams.
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
The scene was casual for its inhabitants but an unholy terror for his eyes
A carnival of violence and debauchery, ages 18 and up if you please!
Walk on in ladies and gentleman
You’re just in time to watch the show!
This circus is rated F for **** you
And now its time for the new act.
Watch as the young thing we call
Serotonin Sam battles her demons
Armed only with her blustery attitude
And a .44 mm Magnum
Terrified, he stared on as she lifted the gun and pressed it to her temple
Her face was placid, serenely calm through one exhale and an explosion
When the smoke cleared the carnival disappeared
Replacing his fantasy of wild music and colors
With the faded pastel reality shrouded in darkness
She wasn’t gone quickly, she just became less
With each self-destructive move
She lost another piece of herself
And now instead of a vibrant girl
He listened as a ghost began to speak
“Can’t you feel me,” she whispered?
I came here to breathe words of derision in your ear
Take stock of where we are and react
Just like the sweet little boy you are
Give me your innocence, not much but it’ll do
I need it to lighten my heart and empty my brain
I’ve never had the will to do so much penance
I’m doing my best impression of oppression
And fertilizing the weeds that strangle you
I’ll need to drain you dry of wholesomeness
Come on babe, escape with me
“This isn’t you!” He screamed while the carnival colors and sounds return
Everywhere he looked he saw a different fun-house mirror version of himself
He turned and ran as fast as he could
Tripping on bags of peanuts, discarded prizes,
and popping a lost bag containing a lonely goldfish
He keeps running until a curtain smacks him in the face
And the scene is the same.
But he’s the one out there now.
How long can he regale the crowd?
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
People assume things. They tend to do so every day, no matter the situation. Why? Who knows. What? All kinds of things. For example, they assume that the happiness I show them is real, when it is only a faqade. My happiness is the mask I use to hide my bitterness, my hate, my depression, my anxiety, my lonliness, my helplessness, and the broken pieces that I truly am. I mask many more things than this. My sanity is the mask I use to cover the fact that I truly am not in the right mind. I might not be insane, but I am certainly mentally unstable. My wholesomeness is the mask I use to hide the fact that I am beyond repair. I am broken in heart, mind, and spirit. My body may be intact, but the soul it masks is broken. It is broken in a million pieces and these pieces are slowly turning to dust - beyond repair. My smile is the mask that hides my tears. The tears that fall when no one is looking. My laugh is the mask that hides the screams of pain that constantly **** me from sleep. The screams echo in my ears and they never vanish until sleep takes over again. The make-up on my face is the mask that covers the tear tracks. My empty, emotionless eyes are the mask that keep my inner despair hidden. The hat, or hood of my hoodie are the masks that hide my scarred scalp. The scars there are from countless hairs being pulled out by my bare hands when I have a breakdown. My pants are the mask that cover my scarred thighs. The scars are from countless nights of countlessly and raggedly drawing razorblades across my sensitive skin. I am completely and utterly masked, hiding everything true about myself like a coward. I even take it so far as to hide my cowardice with a mask called strength. It is better to be masked than left out in the open with nothing to shield yourself, wouldn't you think?
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC
MAN
Staying indoors
Me wanting you on all fours on your floor
Miss the intensity that comes with waiting
Your heat is emanating from a safe distance
This is what it's like waiting to be set free
Craving what is unavailable
WOMAN
I like the wholesomeness of you
It make me think maybe there's some hope in the world
I haven't tried on your gentleness yet
Something about you
Says some humans are alright
Craving what might be available
May 13, 2020
May 13, 2020 at 8:51 AM UTC
I begin by sharing a quote
“I think that we are like stars. Something happens to burst us open; but when we burst open and think we are dying; we’re actually turning into a supernova. And then when we look at ourselves again, we see that we’re suddenly more beautiful than we ever were before.” ― C. JoyBell C.
They say that if you do what you love
You’ll never work a day in your life
It wasn’t until recently that I realized and felt what it really is that I love to do
What it really is that could maintain constant without growing increasingly melancholy over time
(Like most other things for me)
In the simplest of words
That quote is exactly what happened to me
I say "happened" as if it hasn’t happened again
But it has
Multiple times now
The first was the most invigorating
The broadest and most awakening
As the continuity of life and Dukkha occur
I find myself growing familiar with the course
Just like drugs
It gets less euphoric
Not as magical
But instead gets replaced with a deeper, clearer understanding of the experience and outcome
Something much more impactful and deeply rooted
It now alters my consciousness and awareness
Since the first time
I have felt an internal urge
To share my experience with anyone who’s willing to listen
Whether it be by prose
Or ******
It is mentally and spiritually rewarding
My goal has always been to be the burst to someone
The burst that opens them up and launches their soul into a metamorphosis where the outcome is them becoming a supernova
Just like I did
The idea of I vanishes when speaking/writing about the ecstasy and liberation I gain by sharing the experiences of my spiritual journey
And when I am able to witness my passion for telling so reaching and sinking into someone else’s mind
Feelings of exciting wholesomeness fill me
When I'm able to observe someone else’s awareness lift to their surface because of my words and energies
Exponential ecstasy hugs and diffuses into my soul
Using eloquence to uplift others is my gift from the Universe herself
It is my personal way of showing gratitude and love for Her
I realized that humans all connect and grow together when I felt the uplifting I had instilled in others reciprocated into me
I want to heal others
I want to guide them towards their own spiritual awareness
This universal love and compassion for life itself and everything in, around, and about it is far too majestic and vast to not share with the world
The intuition and urge is persistent
I am currently searching for the perfect environment for it to flourish within me
And when I do
The final Truth will emerge
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
I want to spread myself
like marmalade,
cover her
with my wholesomeness,
from her crown
down to
her pretty little toes.
Lord knows
how sweet she is,
I'll spread peanut butter love
all over the place,
look at her scrumptious-face
& eat her whole.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 8:51 PM UTC
I can tell where this is going.
Me, denying that I am in love with you,
You, flirting with those other girls,
Me, believing how I felt was new,
You, looking like an angel
Me, falling for your smile,
You, telling me it'll be okay,
Me, stuck in denial,
You, and your laugh,
Me and my hopelessness,
You, bringing me closer
Me, loving your wholesomeness,
And how you are generally good for me,
I feel like the dead sea.
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 10:16 AM UTC
We all wear skin.
We all wear clothes (or at least I hope all of us do).
We all wear expressions.
We all wear similar tastes.
We all wear differing preferences.
And we all wear masks.
One thing we all without
a doubt wear, are masks.
You wear one.
I wear one.
Mine has smiles plastered
on it all the time; it has joy;
laughter; contentment; humor;
happiness; wholesomeness;
confidence; courage; and
life on it.
It looks so pretty.
It covers the frowns;
tears; sorrow; longing;
self-consciousness; fear;
discontent; angst; anxiety;
self-loathing; and the death
that haunts my soul.
What does yours wear?
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 4:26 PM UTC
belie the notion that one is complete
uncompromised, unmodified,
in thought and in motion.
as we reenact and memoralialize
ourselves with our past and
our wholesomeness of ego
we walk towards a chasm
of chaotic disruption
put there by our inner consciousness
as we progress we are
filled with trepidation,
avoidance and reticence
our thoughts
sidling around the task at hand
procrastination taking its cold grasp
upon our reasoning
our forward compelling movements
appear unnatural and stilted
as we slowly progress
our inner bearing pretentious
all thought and motion merged into
a lifetime of physical mental torture
a prison of our own making
so who in this blinding darkness
dares to step forward into
the unknown future that we have
woven for ourselves with the strips
of blue and crimson flesh we have flayed from
our own portals entwined
into the tapestry that depicts the epic battle
that we have fought and won over time immeasurable
who will take the double edged sword from
the lady in the lake and strike it once again
into the backbone of our mother
where we will lay cradled against her bosum
till she weans us from her suptle breast
and sends us once again to do her bidding
without our capacity for love
our understanding and compassion are
tools we still have yet to master
May 3, 2010
May 3, 2010 at 8:45 PM UTC
The thought swirled in sand
a tornado among calm desert
Claws pressing the temples
a dull ache through process
The ends that will never meet
like the golden thread of destiny
The fates holding their knives
screeching in undeterred agony
The circles of glorified eternity
and the endless stretch of wealth
Gears always turning soundlessly
in the presence of cruel time
Awaiting the decay of life
the destruction of wholesomeness
To welcome the absolute certainty
of a broken chain of repetition
Feb 20, 2011
Feb 20, 2011 at 3:12 PM UTC
When Im feeling like a Neglected Soul
The Presence Of The Most High Becomes Increasingly Mighty and Bold.
The Holy Spirit becomes So Strong that My Flesh is overthrown and it knocks me Out cold.
I'm no longer in Control. The Messiah Overtakes and has a hold.
Upon entering into a Stillness
And Engaging at the Beauty of such realness
I can hear and feel this.....
Pure Silence, Peace and quiet.
Encountering this blissful moment in private.
In this place of dwelling
Here, His grace and mercy is never failing
Here, His Unconditional Love abides
A place where Only God Resides.
A spiritual Realm
where in your loving arms is the Only place I can be found
Where I can leave behind the world and worries and enter into The Great escape.
In your spiritual agape, You My potter, mold me into shape.
This is a place that is hidden
Beyond Earth in another dimision
Even with my eyes Closed He still gives me vision.
A place where I'm drifting thru time and gracefully floating space.
This is our secret Place.
The place where I am safe and secure.
Now realizing All the Things I had to endure was for my personal growth so I could Mature.
Dimishing my mind and heart of the stress
Casting all my cares upon you in Exchange for my Rest.
You took away my brokeness
in exchange for soulfulness and wholesomeness.
Surely I am Blessed.
Happily, I give you Gratitude and Thankfulness!
Yahweh Is The Best.
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 5:25 PM UTC
I shut my eyes
to a world of fire
I drink and I roll the dice
I say make me forget that I feel dire
Come and be close
push against my spine
let my willingness arose
let my vines intwine
your wholesomeness, my overdose
let's become the fine line
Between ecstasy
and that
which is not meant to be
I fed
on you like on a juicy dragon fruit
Reach into what the wild one brings
our senses sharp and acute
I spread my wings
Turn each other into creatures of the flame
my hands how they claw at your skin
don't hesitate, there's nothing to tame
and nothing this true could ever be a sin
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 7:13 PM UTC
AaAH !!!In this ecstatic fusion of
sighs,whispers and breaths
raising to wild decibels
in the aura surrounding US...
lover...
do you fail to just
see how my eyes well up
the instant
your gaze morphs
into that one touch
so what...
if your eyes fail to
see the invisible tear
in my heart as
...I trace those lines
in my silences where your
kiss lingered just a moment ago
How I wish
it was your soul
which lingered there instead...
in all its vulnerable wholesomeness
Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 2:18 AM UTC
belie the notion that one is complete
uncompromised, unmodified,
in thought and in motion.
as we reenact and memoralialize
ourselves with our past and
our wholesomeness of ego
we walk towards a chasm
of chaotic disruption
put there by our inner consciousness
as we progress we are
filled with trepidation,
avoidance and reticence
our thoughts
sidling around the task at hand
procrastination taking its cold grasp
upon our reasoning
our forward compelling movements
appear unnatural and stilted
as we slowly progress
our inner bearing pretentious
all thought and motion merged into
a lifetime of physical mental torture
a prison of our own making
so who in this blinding darkness
dares to step forward into
the unknown future that we have
woven for ourselves with the strips
of blue and crimson flesh we have flayed from
our own portals entwined
into the tapestry that depicts the epic battle
that we have fought and won over time immeasurable
who will take the double edged sword from
the lady in the lake and strike it once again
into the backbone of our mother
where we will lay cradled against her bosum
till she weans us from her suptle breast
and sends us once again to do her bidding
without our capacity for love
our understanding and compassion are
tools we still have yet to master
May 3, 2010
May 3, 2010 at 8:46 PM UTC
- At the liquor store
dense with nocturne.
My hair smells of domestic expense. I can feel the geography of my face burn when the man behind me tells his friend how far he'd stick his tongue up my *** I leave without buying anything. Outside the air is thickening: the atmosphere hardens itself into a dome. Not even the thunderheads can hide my embarrassment. Under the dark sky my truck looks like a rusted pupa, ready to burst from its oxide swaddling. I pass more liquor stores but I am distracted. The moon is absent. My wholesomeness is bothered by voyeurism but my vileness gets off on it. Once home I notice the neighbors have cut their lawns and it is imposing. I admit my faults. I become needy too often - and weak the moment I see another insect cacooned in my driveway. There is shame in standing silently against torment so I kneel and confess my vileness. I beg my visitor to take me harder than he thinks I can bear.
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 4:08 PM UTC