"wracks" poems
The hair is almost normalized,
The hands we hardly notice,
Real news is, with my ensemble,
A red tie splashes well.
I bear your false witness,
The hookers and the lies,
I'd get the heebie-jeebies,
If I ****** with the FBI.
But the skin, the skin,
What color's that,
That hides the blackness found within.
That wraps a frame that wracks the sane,
And covers a skull with dubious brains.
It conceals the bloated air,
From lungs to lips,
From bowels to his finger tips.
It doesn't matter how his fits,
It can't conceal he's full of ****
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 8:33 AM UTC
Jesus looks so ruby red, dead
and your purring
wracks some embryo to
life, gave it a foreign ring –
hand-tested gold or
diamond surfaced from oceans:
or not, no.
No, it is just a mirror
and you are what makes it
look so beautiful, breathing
sea-salt and gasoline –
one perfect drop found a well
and down, down, down
it fell. I caught ants, I smashed
in their hissing heads.
Yes, yes, so red.
God would be proud of the
mystery you and I have kept.
We drag him along like a light,
lantern bleaching flame,
but as soon as the sun hits,
he, too, drops into a haze –
and lands cross-legged, think?
There is a jeweler up there
that makes his ankles shine,
they are bolder than the moon
cousin of his best side,
as you are mine. Mine,
some sort of wordly delight –
bravery, diamond, and be alive.
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 9:35 PM UTC
A tear rolls down a swollen cheek,
Eyes are blue where violence wreaked,
The sob of tortured life wracks body and mind,
As that blow slows time,
Red blood spots bare skin and canvas,
A world spinning in coloured blackness,
As mind drifts to a place of comfort,
The other raises fists triumphant,
The crowd hollers in jubilance,
Worry not for me just call that ambulance.
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 8:59 AM UTC
Not a wanderer stuck on the crest of lonely waves.
Nor running ragged on the sands of time.
Traipsing wearily through the wracks of sodden salty ****
As cold water laps over their feet abandoned on craggy rocks.
Not always at sea.
Vagrant migrants.
From rock to rock.
Hark,
Ungodly whistling, clicking and howling.
Wailing and bemoaning.
Poseidon knows that they're around.
They strut around the rocks, all knowing.
Their lives they live as one of two.
Choose their one for life.
Should you see one in your salty path.
Foreboding spirit, a warning of turbulence to come.
A past sailor boy seen in totem of bird.
Not so swell, an evil omen.
Moons long past, the only witnesses to a killing crime.
Saw Albatross have his feet cruelly hewed.
Tobacco pouch for jack tar and his pals.
Ancient mariners in a doctrine of distortion.
Sky sailors slept on the wing over night.
Such misdemeanour,
Their perceptions were not right.
The birds perished in the dead of night.
As they did not ever rest in flight.
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 8:46 AM UTC
After waking at dawn one morning when the wind sang
low among dry leaves in an elm
Among the red guns,
In the hearts of soldiers
Running free blood
In the long, long campaign:
Dreams go on.
Among the leather saddles,
In the heads of soldiers
Heavy in the wracks and kills
Of all straight fighting:
Dreams go on.
Among the hot muzzles,
In the hands of soldiers
Brought from flesh-folds of women--
Soft amid the blood and crying--
In all your hearts and heads
Among the guns and saddles and muzzles:
Dreams,
Dreams go on,
Out of the dead on their backs,
Broken and no use any more:
Dreams of the way and the end go on.
1.6k
tense, i lie dazedly upon her bed
she whispers and speaks soft into my ear
i hear naught but loving words from sweet lips
i hold her close as thoughts run through my head
the time is now, she takes all my fear
and stands before me, hands on bare hips
a catch in my breath, a skip in chest, thump thump
ecstasy, it be her name, her body its meaning
i'm wet clay in her grasp, asks "why do you roar?"
her answer is now, the bed doth bump bump
upon the wall, i grip it tight, stare 'pon ceiling
"oh my dear ive never felt this way before!"
blinded now to all but her, she looks at me
mesmerize, and i feel so calm, before the storm
mouth open in empty rawr, i cannot utter a single note
she pauses a moment, i plead, destroy me
til moonlight shines upon her furry form
sweet explosion! finally now, my roar within my throat.
my roar echoes from wall to wall, as do her cries
she wracks my form with passionate ******
the finale, memorable, we can't seem to stand...
we lay there, giving up after a few tries
neither move, content in each other's trust
our love knows no boundries, how grand.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 8:04 PM UTC
My eyes envision a blackened wood
Where my heart longs to roam.
A shudder wracks my supple frame
And I long for it, my home.
Paws flex slowly on slivered glass
As I follow this trail to the end.
The howls of my pack dance on the rain
And my spirit begins to mend.
Blood soaks the night, I slip sinew and bone
While shedding this frail human skin.
I scream to the moon, my Mother above
And signal the hunt to begin.
Feb 26, 2011
Feb 26, 2011 at 6:42 PM UTC
Something wicked this way comes
My body aches with pain
Not self inflicted with demon ***
But through the weather and the rain
The storm has taken down a tree
I stay inside and pray
There's a storm on fire inside of me
Will I make it through the day?
Arthritis wracks my body whole
And the cold just makes it bad
Free from pain, it is my goal
I can't remember last I had
A day so free and without ache
Drugs just numb but do not heal
I lose control when pills I take
I don't like just how I feel
The rain moves down the window pane
Liquid, lanquid and so quick
To be so sore it is my bane
It is not the life I picked
The storm is over, but not in me
Each day, it starts anew
I face the test with a new plea
I do the best that I can do.
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 12:22 PM UTC
The bird at my window reaps my sorrows
I lay static in a sea of blankets
This cycle wracks through my body
Un-nerved, unwilling, exhausted.
Mar 14, 2022
Mar 14, 2022 at 11:11 PM UTC
The colour of towels
hang in my house
down, like waterfall
from door-corners and window sills.
Some outside
some on wracks
All open mouthed
spread welcome.
I have paintings also. They are static.
The towels move around.
They’re the colours of angels
blessing a clothesline
or bedroom floor.
If I’m wet they dry me
if they’re wet I dry them
It’s a good arrangement.
They smile at me, and often
break into laughter
when I attempt folding
they think it’s a hoot
trying to fold away colour
Aug 12, 2011
Aug 12, 2011 at 1:52 AM UTC
She dancingly sways,
a tree, grown old,
draped in amber, in gold.
And while the wind wracks,
her skirt holds tight
until she deems fit,
losing her gown to Jack's
choice linens of white.
Now standing,
bare, taut skin,
a woody skeleton.
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 10:19 AM UTC
Pain wracks my fragile bones.
Everything hurts me,
So please, please don't
Come close or touch me.
I can't look at my body
Because it isn't what I want.
I know it's selfish, you see,
But it's a paper without a font.
My skin is a tapestry of
Beauty and pretty and all
In the perfect girl you'd love,
But guys: absolutely appalled.
Nothing matched on me-
I'm the missing left sock,
My bones' rattle is all I'll be
Until I take the final walk.
Apr 26, 2021
Apr 26, 2021 at 6:07 AM UTC
a new morning huddled
over the small stove set on snow
cold-numbed fingers
fumbled with matches
to light it
coughs punched at a dust rag sky,
the dull rasps
embarrassed near neighbors might hear
how the weak
body heaves, wracks
they'd smell kerosene on hands and clothes
if they came too close
the bent over figure
counts ashes afloat, relics
of fresh disasters wrought high,
loosing tally at one in hope it was the last;
restarts the reckoning -
it might be a tempest this time
fire fed by collections of poems,
old histories of things with no purpose,
expired quickly in overnight darkness
cold, gray their corpses still lay
beyond brushed bricks of the hearth
even a grocery list,
its page neatly erased under flakes,
chases after vapors escaped an empty fuel can,
hunger replaced by craving to be warm again
inside, behind the door
they bow heads and say grace at the table
praying over slices of light from a window
intoning with cotton puff voices
still
God gives tomorrow to continue the counting
Feb 16, 2012
Feb 16, 2012 at 10:22 AM UTC
I sit here by my crackling fire
surrounded by all that I desire
nature for all
Bacon frying in the pan
coffee in the mug
the morning sun there in the east
small birds fly up above
I sit and I do wonder
how long can this beauty last
against the greed of man
We spew pollution in the air
about acid rain we do not care
for we now have got the cash
Our fair land now ripped by open cast
in our search for coal, for gold for wealth
but that wealth is but for the few
The multitudes who bend their backs
the ones who have the cough that wracks
and tears apart their lungs
still labour for a paltry sum
not for them the holiday in the sun
the bosses can afford
And so for the years that I have left
I will enjoy the nature that is left
BEFORE IT TO IS GONE
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
Your self entitlement is sickening
When did psychosis become so beautiful?
The image of victim hood so appealing
What must you weep for?
When mummy and daddy pay for your carelessness
Your car, your phone, your clothes
The spoiled soul
intent on self destruction
when you can no longer consume
self harm is on fleek
Your little mind a cascade of self inflicted bruises
Throw yourself into a war zone
The day in the human traffic
Sit under a paedophile's glare
live under the shadow of poverty
Sleep by the plague streets
Oh you poor pathetic hipster
Here, have the BPD and PTSD
Sleep with one eye open!
With the knife and dog by your pillow
For the abuser that vowed to return
For the shadows that haunt the night
For the insomnia that wracks your brain
For the voices of a demonic opera
This is not special
This is hell
I am NOT special!
The world owes me nothing!
For what I have, what I want
I fight, I strive, I survive
I am not a snowflake
There are many more like me
Who live by the ashes of temples
By the bombs of sands
In the wake of unclean hands
For virginity stolen!
For childhood lost
By war, poverty, disease, ****
Your ****** cry
with all the middle class entitlement
That muffles out the true cry
The cry of a child in the Gaza strip
The cry of forced marriage
The cry of the cancer bearer
The cry of a soldier in the heat of battle
The cry of a mother who could not feed her babe
The cry of the ***** ripped out
The cry of the elderly
The cry of the camps
The cry
to which you find so pretty
which you know nothing of...
You mold it your life
of middle class ****
Your glorified bedroom
a western modern pit
Iphone, computer, holiday in the sun
Yet you still feel undone?
So you putrid little fetus
Take my hand, we shall go
where your entitlement can not tread
where the ***** are forgotten and suffering are dead
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 3:09 PM UTC
Leaden feet
Soul heavy
Constriction wracks my chest
Eyesight fading out at best
Every step
Burdens me
Drowing out my screams
They don't know what i mean
Cold are we
Faceless sea
The crowd is sundered
With a sound of thunder
Chemical feeling
Rising faster
Black metal plating
Hidden by color
Nausea knowlage
Turning over
Sterile and voiceless
Overpowered
The second freezes and the door explodes
One or two to every home
The crowd plays on
A silver show
And all of mine
are on their own
Masqurade
The masks are on
Every sillable
of every song
The Loss of feeling
I have no doubt
And they are carried off
A few rounds pop off
The music stops
For a split second order holds everyone still as stone
Then my life is taken before my naked eyes
And I wake up here, alone, surrounded by the flock
My heart has been torn from my chest
God give me strength
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 1:31 AM UTC
My heart pounds in my ears
My breathing wracks my body
I can't think
I can't stop the
Panic attacks that attack me
Stupidest reasons
Lead to me crying
Lead to me screaming
Lead to me dying and
Nightmarish dreaming
Waking up sweating
Yet freezing cold
My heart squeezing in fear.
Always afraid
Always wary
Always watching out for
The panic attacks that attack me.
Hidden somewhere
A dark corner somewhere
My head in my hands
And a scream in my throat
Silent. No one can hear
No one can know
Quiet despair.
I can't breath
Though I'm trying
I can't scream
Though I'm trying
I can't quite get my nails through my skin
Though I'm trying.
Even seven feet below in the dark
In this state I can't
Reach my goal of ending my life.
My lips can't move as fast as my head
And my head can't describe what I'm feeling
My feelings are leaving me reeling
So confused and hopeless
Close to help but can't reach it
My lips can't wrap around the words I need.
Can't wrap around a simple "Help Me"
So I lay in my room
Hidden somewhere dark
And I let the tears
Leave their marks
On my pillows
On my sheets
On my face.
And I sob silently as the
Words I don't wan't to hear
And lies lead me away.
Silent screams and zero breath reaching
My shaking body and my
Panic attacks just attack me again.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 12:42 PM UTC
Observing you
Animated, you speak in increasing overtones, filtering even traces of any creeping monotones.
With a passion that boils like lava in volcanic fissures, you express your convictions in strong hand gestures.
I see in you a certain glow, within which your inner strength shows.
I know now that you're one to stand up and not leave.
I see in you, a solid belief.
Your head whips back, as growing laughter wracks you in vibrations sharp, every little motion originating from your hearts little shards.
I see in you, something I don't see in me, a bravery to bear the brunt of a dishonest society.
No need have you, to repress or regress every feeling or thought, so subconsciously you confess. You detest going through the motions, but know enough to be true to your emotions.
I see in you something for me, honesty.
As you speak of the people you lost and the people you just had to let go of, an incomplete smile and lying eyes tell the story that your lips just cannot. Smothered by the memories, your smile waits for the tension to release.
It twitches and ceases, seemingly against its own wishes.
I see a broken world in your eyes, but also a flame that never dies.
I see in you a veteran of storms, a resounding bell that never stops.
A temper you hold, that often flares in your eyebrows.
I steal a glimpse, even when you won't let it show. But you hold your beast down, and a more permanent smile replaces that momentary frown, as you reject the things that make you drown.
I see in you kindness and resilience.
I see in you, empathy and forbearance.
You speak of a thousand places and times and a oceanful of faces.
You speak of the worlds that you are a part of, the experiences that you're at the heart of.
Your eyes tell is wonders that are and have been. Even your songs bear the mark of the celestial, a beauty that stands on a pedestal.
I see in you, the work of God and now to the effect I see how you really are, imperfectly perfect.
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
I’ve been watching for some time
From afar the deep and low valley
Watching the leaves fall
Of what hope they can rally
For not ray nor beam
Nor excitement I seek
Only the bejeweled recluse with the golden hair
The blue eyes and tongue abounding, yet meek
A beauty not to sever
From the mountains of my youth
Against all attempt
My failed past endeavor
To bring those impartial arms closer to my own
But, alas, she proved far too clever
And escaped, perpetually I bemoan
And where you took leave
Still spurns the suture
Dark blood freshly drawn
I bleed for another, though soul turned to pewter
And I stumble weakly like invalid fawn
The gauze did atone
Anesthetized my brooding
Until the reclaimed throne
Did sanctify its queen
Too little, too late
A penance not paid
Impatience could at surface readily sate
And showed me in acetic recollection
My folly not to wait
But, escaped your grace, my grubby hands though groped
And words did not flow forth as I had hoped
Simple gesture; a wave or two
And the separation broadened again, same as the first time I left you
But, I’ve been watching for some time
The creeks and the crags
Knowing the leaves will always return
And the fawn thus wanes to mighty stag
In hopes for a band of our own from the pitch of time discerned
I fashioned this life for you
And encircled you in my mind
That what persona I do beget
I was just hoping for you to find
A poor choice for but one of many
An ill-conceived and hasty plan
All done for you, my beauty
Planning for a future
Before it even began
And now, after I’ve waited for what feels like millennia
These clipped wings refuse to span
And this valley wracks me with mania
Spirits sink with the sun
Ink drips from the vein
Turn to verse written in vain,
Smears through the valleys
Like eloquent stains
An escape from memory, dazzling and dun
But the valley vast, maw is wide
Too far, too unwilling to outrun
The Beautiful, the flitting
Inescapable Morgan.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 7:27 PM UTC
Death would make a dark valentine
I'll join your hand with mine
Midnight strikes
Our skin will meet
Over a road made with sheets
Together we will take it slow
Step-by-step
Taken by shadows that are forever kept
Water's slowly rising
Instead I'm learning to swim
In our beliefs
Treading with limbs
Splinters thoughts
Negative energy
Scattered about too many places to see
Pressure wracks my consciousness with unuttered questions
Mix of doubt and adoration broken into sections
Ruins moment with cold insecurity
Fights desperation
Winning barely
Aroma of chocolate wafts through the air
Breathe clarity and briefly my senses are thankfully aware
I slowly blend surroundings until it's all a blur
Wandering
Table decked with items you prefer
To show you how much your love means to me
All that shows is the success we'll never be
Apr 28, 2020
Apr 28, 2020 at 12:14 PM UTC
Tell me, have you ever been kissed in the rain
Ever loves so much that it wracks you with pain
Have you seen the sun rising, or watched as it set
Did you know they were perfect the moment you met
Have you looked into eyes, and seen naught but love
Thanked God for the blessings rained down from above
Have you lost someone special, a person held dear
When you’re alone and it’s dark do you wish they were near
Tell me of the memories, each second that passed
Of times you took first, and times you came last
Did you ever hold someone close, and whisper low
I love you forever and I won’t let go
Have you known you were wrong, and tried to make it right
The anguish of which won’t let you sleep at night
Do you miss what you had, are you mad you let go
Have you ever considered letting everyone know
Have you lost all you held, your home and your friends
Tell me, do you pray that your pains find their ends
I’ve known the top of the mountain, I’ve known the fall
I will always love you, my everything, my all.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 10:17 AM UTC
Salt the slug, fault the plug
For not stopping the gap
Where fears fall through;
caused by sipping the sap
Which beers, tall, brew.
Swish the malt, wish tumult
Of hot dripping bees wax
would clog green ears.
Locks for puzzling keys wracks
and bogs clean gears.
**** machine, spill unseen
From eyes wishing to bleed
out drunk sound blurs.
Fear flies hissing their creed
to flunk round sirs.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 3:56 AM UTC
sitting straight up
with my silent throat aching
a beat wracks my body
my soul is waking.
at the base of my spine
in the pit of my stomach
my soul wishes of its own mind
to stretch out of my body
and go out of control
music aches in my throat
my body spasms
to my hearts metronome
i need let out my soul.
it bangs around my body
which is its cage
then out bursts a joyous whisper
and i sing, unafraid
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 4:20 PM UTC
The careless page on lamp-stand resting,
With pure white the glow reflecting,
Catches the sore wand’ring stranger’s eye,
And keeps it there without a sigh.
He reads thereon a poet’s verses,
Sore reflecting many hearses*,
That should have rightly never rolléd,
Bearing corpses cowl- and hooded.
“Oh, the manner that he writes in!”
Thus the words that cross his cracking lips,
While tears run down to fill the rips.
Then eye, though dimmed, still struggling onward,
Next reads words that turn him upward,
Looking to the bright heav’nly places,
Where God with parted soul paces,
And—leaning down through clouds—soft touches,
Man’s heart so now again he blushes.
“What a manner that he writes in!”
*“What god-like genius inspires him so,
Such lofty heights to rise unto?
Do Muses bright surround him—ringéd
In fair halo slight and gilded?
Or warrior-like hews he his figures,
Out of flesh and blood by measures,
‘Til the beauty shining forth o’erwhelms,
All other mortal verséd poems?”
“Which the manner that he writes in?”*
Weary much from traveling afar,
The stranger sleeps him under star,
And as he dreams he sees the poet
—Yet in thought he does not know it--
Who sitting desk-bound looks about him,
Searching for poetic fountain;
And ne’er receiv’d he supernal* aid,
But from this life poetry made:
That broad noble brow in thought contracts:
The genius broods; his mind he wracks.
Then eye with pure, clear light shines—spilling
Evanescent* light, so thrilling,
And lip with rev’rent murm’ring carries
Sweet words to ear and gentle lays,
While pen—by trembling fingers wielded--
Marks the page to make sure-founded;
This, the manner that he writes in.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 3:54 PM UTC
This whole body heaves
wracks and judders
with its broken dream.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 11:55 AM UTC