"wth" poems
Hi, hello, I'm here.
My name is Lucas-Jasper, but you can call me Jas. (pronounced J-Ass) Never call me LJ. That's weird.
I'm an Aries, and I'm dumb.
Sometimes I'll write about wth is going on, or I'll write poetry, or nothing at all.
Idk man.
(Feel free to message me whenever *** I'm always on the search for interweb friends)
- Jas
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 10:24 PM UTC
**Lacking of life now
I lol on my fine divan**
*Laziness often
lacks the power of rapture
as in sofa or bedsprings*
**Labour of love her
for large obese lobster me**
*Mermaids capture me
a symphony of sea-sick
rasping tongues lick our lumps*
**Little old lady
typing the language of love**
*A real cyber date
computer romance limits
operational life's love*
**Laughing over lines
of disco **** pure *******
*Lewd obscene language
grasping lemon or lime highs
to count Hollywood star shootings*
**A full length of life
the longing off, lay proceeds**
*Lady of the Lake
lunging our lisps sound depths
we are - breathing harmony*
**The land of Lincoln
legion of Lucifer's Lord**
*landscaping of lawns,
losing our liberty's law,
leaving on lights, blinding*
**Lots of Laughs or 'lol'
populist abbreviation**
*language often less,
leftovers of literate
gone to libraries of late*
May 18, 2010
May 18, 2010 at 12:38 PM UTC
I want to descent the well,
I want to climb the walls of Granada,
To gaze at the heart graved
By the dark stylus of waters.
The wounded child moaned
With a crown of frost.
Ponds, cisterns and fountains
Raised their swords in the air.
Ay what fury of love, what a wounding edge,
what nocturnal murmurs, what white deaths!
What deserts of light went destroying
the sand-dunes of dawn!
The child was alone
Wth the sleeping town in his throat.
A fountain that rises from dream
guarded him from thirsts of seaweed.
The child and his agony face to face,
Were two green entangled showers.
The child stretched on the ground
his agony bent on itself.
I want to descent the well,
I want to die my death by mouthfuls,
I want to fill my heart with moss,
To see the one wounded by water.
2.5k
She is the wind
She is strong and steady
Ever changing, going wth the flow
She is fast approaching yet calm
Until the thunder strikes
And the lightning roars
The rain will pour and she will rub it in your face
She will never be yours
She cannot be captured
She is the wind
She is forever there, yet you will never see her face
She is resilient, defiant and thick with the scent of fresh cut grass and a mans tears
She is fear
She is strength
She is surrounding
She is everything you dream
She is all encompassing to the extreme
She is the wind and she's beautiful to see
More beautiful than I can describe in poetry
Her mind is racing with no ultimate goal
She is the wind and she will steal your soul
When the dust settles and the storm moves on
She will lose control
No one can know where she'll go
She is the wind
Fear her mind and beauty
She is pure poetry
Flowing along naturally
She is me
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 2:31 PM UTC
Christmas holidays
Joy, Laughter, Cheer
"Merry, Merry, Marigold," sang Mum
"Merry, Merry Mum," sang Marigold
Cheeks and nose tips
glowing bright pink
against frigid air.
Bodies at sharp upward angle
ski lift carrying them
Up Up Up
Tips slightly skyward
they slide smoothly from the lift
Marigold then Mum
Side by side
Each spies their downward course
With mighty heaves they push off
"Happy Christmas, Mum!"
"Happy Christmas Marigold"
Marigold's helmet
A disco ball
Glitter, sparkles, color
reflecting brilliant sunshine
A comet streaking downward
Screaming toward terminal velocity
Mum carves a serpentine path
A python's body in the new snow
Fresh
Natural
Tranquil
Somewhere near the top
Children hear a hideous snicker-snack
A pine bough vorpal sword
Finds its mark in someone's back
Somewhere on the mountain
Sun melted snow
And the carefree happy skier
had nowhere else to go
Her skiing day ended
Amid the trees and dirt
Her glistening glitter helmet
Crumpled
Filled with earth
Paralysis would be the happy ending,
but this is not that day
The little girl named Marigold
will never get back up to play
That's the tragic outcome
when trees meet vertebrae
Her friends gather together
Engineering an awesome little shrine
filled wth flowers, cats, and baseballs
and even a basketball-sized porcupine
Beneath a mighty pine tree
Friends embrace and say goodbye
Christmas holiday is a rotten time
For little kids to die.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 11:53 AM UTC
to buy a book at half-ten with
no time wasting. go back, await
instructions ‘cause ****** will
have their trinkets, with novelty
of accented voice. and i once
would talk often of a love – let’s
separate that word from *****
often of a love, but am rare to
fall to elaboration. and through
contemplation the soul may
ascend to knowledge of the
Form of the Good, penultimate
object of Knowledge but not
Knowledge. and often writ of
this love, writ of what was to be
then and never now. never to find
affirmation in fleeting memory.
oxymoronic oblate of the mind
– this soul. attempting for attainment
of Kenosis. shambling i wandered,
rambling i wandered, and humbly
wandering on to pluck till times
and times are done. and
the dogs of this life have re-
moved dearest effects. in turn, sho-
wing the vanity in materialism.
end turn, showing futility in ret-
ention and the sun's continuous gro-
wth forcing abatement of winters’
vespers. cradling a gourd filled with
oil from the skin of ages, to reflect
micorocosms of preceived death.
those silver apples of the moon. and
when vespers return in color, when
the ground aches tensing muscles.
this love, if only the conjunctions
had been denied. perhaps by abor-
tion of if, then could have been a
block for now. these times found
oblate of memory by zealous self-
truth of the wronged past, and
humbled by skewed memory of
the hermit on unseen path for
Kenosis. unseen growth of
those golden apples of the sun.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 10:05 PM UTC
Rock in time
to a lullaby,
whisper soft and sweet.
Kiss his breath
so soft and fast
rub his tiny feet.
It's your time
to give alone,
in his world
of the unknown.
Promise the moon
and the stars above,
promise to give
all of your love.
Embrace your bodies
and souls for now,
this time will pass
so quickly somehow.
Share wth him
a promise to keep,
Lie him down
again to sleep
Sep 11, 2010
Sep 11, 2010 at 8:08 PM UTC
*In my dreams ..
You've kissed me
With such passion
My body shudders
In uncontrolled emotion
You've taken my soul
Into new dimensions
Every nerve alive
With forgotten sensations
You've painted my skin
Wth your carnal tongue
I'm a slave to your rhythm
My ecstasy sung
I'm caught in your touch
Imprisoned like a bird
In the cage of your presence
Captive I purrrrrrr
Filling my senses
With sweet erotica
Between my thighs
Waves of pleasure
At my very core
I quiver and flutter
On the edge of delirium
Gasping in utter
Wild abandon
Wanting and greed
I take you inside me
Moaning with need
I cling in desperation to
This exquisite fantasy
Weaving enchantment
Until eventually .....
I wake up lonely
Because you are only
In my dreams*
(C) Pixievic
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 4:14 PM UTC
I'm choking on my words and they swallow like bile,
like acid burns all the way down into my abdomen.
I have to say goodbye,
push you away because I am no good, I am broken and bruised,
an over ripe fruit who is only worth the compost she can become.
I don't want to, the words haven't left my throat and I already miss what we had,
I feel the gap in my chest like open wound,
like empty airless space has entered the void of me.
Not even its stars can warm what is left of me.
I am sorry.
I don't know how else to say this.
I am so sorry that you ever felt the burden of loving a wreck like me.
For a time I believed I could have been more than this,
that maybe I had phenix bones and I could make worth in the ashes of this. All I got was burning.
In the hardest way I learned that I am human and nothing more can come from this.
In part I blame you.
You made me - make me - feel as though there is more to this than the story I am reading.
The problem here is that I have always been bad at context clues and the words are beginning to fade wth age anyway.
Its immoral to blame you for my humanity but it hurts more if I acknowledge that you are better than anything I will ever deserve.
If it hurts less I want you to hate me. Hate everything I allow myself to become when I take on the monster in my mind.
Know that none of that means I will learn to not love you.
I just can't be strong enough in that love to be present when it all falls apart around me.
You should keep the happy memories, never learn the skeletons that haunt the empty walls of this closet heart.
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 11:28 PM UTC
I'm here in my mom's office
Bored within every crevice.
I turn on my lappy,
before I take a *****
I open up my Chrome,
and I feel so at home,
excited to finally go
to the sites that will surely make me a hobo.
Tumblr
Twitter
and ask.fm
.
Ask.fm
I try to enter.
But you know what I see?
FREAKIN WEB FILTER.
I try to go on Twitter,
giddy as I enter.
But do you know what I see?
FREAKIN WEB FILTER.
So now I'm left with Tumblr,
the site is such a wonder,
Because I go wherever,
But there's never WEB FILTER.
And now I cry,
with tears of blood gone dry.
I cry
I cry.
I wanna go on ask,
coz to torment people there is my task.
But now I can't.
So I cry I cry I cry.
I wanna tweet,
and make people smell my feet.
To share with my followers my despair,
But WTH I'll just sit on my chair.
So now I'm left with Tumblr
and okay fine Hello Poetry.
And I dunno what to do with my life.
So I cry I cry I cry.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 12:29 AM UTC
It’s the most bountiful time of the year.
All retailers are crowing
The profits are growing
They smile ear-to-ear
It’s their greatest time of the year.
We people are hocking,
To stuff our kids stockings,
Wth jewels we bought all year long.
We want to make sure
That we can insure
We don’t take a parental step wrong.
It’s the bankruptingest time of the year.
No one quite gives a ****
That the whole things a scam
To sell clothing and beer
We go further in debt every year.
We’ll fight to pay rent
Nearly thirty percent
Goes to pay all the interest off.
We take extra jobs
Like all working slobs
All year we don’t dare get a cough.
It’s the most co-dependent of times.
It’s all about image
And holiday scrimmage
As if we’re not a victim of crime.
And pretending we saved one little dime.
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 2:45 PM UTC
Have you realize love blind many into saying stupid things?
Things that the stupid sometimes tries to explain.
Like, he beats me because he loves me.
So, when did love becomes abusive.
Sometimes situations dictates sadness.
When you have no place to go.
Or your family has left you all alone.
Inner strength and survival skills will pull you through.
Even, if you're a woman wth a destructive fool.
This saying a man that beats a woman.
Won't hit a man.
Realize honestly.
These are just words.
A fool is a fool.
He just realize others gets offended.
If he tries to hit you.
A fool is a fool.
And will learn his lesson in the end.
The sad part of it is.
He lost you in the end.
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 8:58 AM UTC
Time is filled with false promise
Pain does not erase forever
The sweet momory of a face
Interwoven lives in golden haze
Amongst memories of dead tomorrows
Lined up alongside shimmering woods barefoot with grass
Ghost like ribbons of unproven tomorrows
Floating images spent on quiet ponds
Periscope eyes yielding dippers, into dreamtimes of effortless passion
Vast vaults of time smooth with summertime sleep
This is what I see as I look deep
Long slender fingers pressing down
Keys black and white
Lifetimes spent... Sacred Sound
Notes carved from your heart sent heaven bound
You lived four score and ten
You name unwhispered in other hearts
Nor was there one who greeted you at your door
You called out, cried out long into the nights
This lifetime spent alone and lame
No fame or recognition
But poverty and hunger were your daily bread
A single cover for your bed, not even a pillow for your head
Ink a few sheets of paper, candles some wine
You spent your all, to own a mistress, of wood and bone
The candle you burnt was at both ends
Without regret your heart was given in its purest form
Bliss is what you mastered wth your art you used the pain of us apart
So full and open was your heart that your music did not dim with age
I called for you one whole month and then another
Come to me come to me softly I whispered
Come rest you've done your best
Time to come home my Darkling
It is the end... this script... this test
Lay your head upon her ivory skin
Kiss her fare thee well
I promise you shall meet again. Come rest, the best is yet to be
You rose up from four score and twenty. Your room alive with warmth and golden light
Covered in Blue Stars you took my hand, a very bright light was burning
You grinned, you saw a youth
A boy of twenty in your skin
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 1:27 AM UTC
What difference does it make
die wth regrets or
pride
instead
I choose
the former
I poisoned the ground
painted the walls offun colors
and broke bottles in streetcars
checking your bank account .
you're so far away
From your own
Too risky you say
I'll smash my own body acadian
pavements
at one hundred percent increase
It doesn't matter
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 10:06 AM UTC
deep sleep dreams
Consist of you… i tried so hard to fall asleep with thoughts of something new but here we go…. changing again. leaving behind the old attitude to find a better one. here she is. summer samber… and i hope your happy because this girl has four hearts begging for her attention. im giving it to him. to the one who wants it not the others who need it. But my God do i wish you wanted it. i wish you wanted just me. big brown eyes glisten wth a smile at the thought of you and your love. so hurt.
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 1:42 PM UTC
cling to the daliy
figmental clock that wakes you
in the morning. sleep wth your bed
as if the sun was always stuck at rising.
plunging into a think fluffy cloud
the sky feels like a dream.
Oct 17, 2011
Oct 17, 2011 at 4:12 PM UTC
I cant allow myself
to come to a logical
and reasonable explanation
I never meant to be
this deceitful hurtful disgusting
Person
But I was
I did things that even I cant understand
I pushed you away
I made you hurt for me till you hurt no more
yet for the reasons beyond any
your still in my life
Your still the one I love
and the one I cant deny
I want every second wth you
Jul 22, 2010
Jul 22, 2010 at 3:27 PM UTC
VC
CV
CCTV
STD
STI
FYI
DTF
EFTS
FTW
***
WHO
WOW
POW
WWI
WWII
WTH
TTPA
HTTP
TOFTB
OTP
SMH
IMHO
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 7:20 AM UTC
Dear Wifey,
I have found a place for us.
A place where we can settle down for good. I have yet to know who you are but I’ve already found a place afar. A place where even Yolanda has no match. A place where a lot of fish is there to catch, people are so nice that you can leave your things outside and no one will make a move to sn@tch, widened roads for y-o-l-o drive just for you to beat our 6th gear and clutch. We will be wearing our long sleeves not because we’re going to attend some party, but because we’re going to plant some crops for us to eat, my dear Honey. You’ve got nothing to worry when it comes to the bill for water and electricity cuz they have clean rivers and fresh cool air so there’ll be no need for efan, phone, or tv but in any case, you deem it necessary, I guess we could get a set, anyway 100-wampipti for a bill monthly is more than enough as what my auntie told me. There’ll be no need for us to avail the internet, we’re just going to share stories with each other to k i l l time. As we all know, ISPs here in the country s u c k s, will simply leech us and make us lose our dime. Anyway, I don’t want to stress myself out, go to their HQ, launch an arson attack, and commit other crimes. Probably I’ll just write a rant or poem about it that will surely chime.
As you can see, I am so in love with the place, can’t think of any problem to face. Ah yeah, wait, maybe dengue cuz at night there are mosquitoes here that are well-fed and raised. Don’t you worry cuz I’m already saving money honey, I must admit that sometimes there’ll be a need for us to go to the city and Mercury cuz I don’t trust The Generic Pharmacy. That just love won’t be enough, and there are things that we need to shop. Sooner or later, whether we like it or not, we’ll realize that there are things that these hands can’t make or provide, for example, your gown—like, wth? I want you to be the most beautiful bride. I don’t want you to wear a torn dress as we face our fam and magsisi-uwian na pagka-kain na mga guest!
While writing this line, I’m giving my cold stare to a white butterfly, so I stopped the ink and think, will I be able to make you feel that you have found the right guy?
Dec 27, 2019
Dec 27, 2019 at 11:50 PM UTC
wouldn't it be nice
if you see what I mean
if the powers that be
*saw fit to agree
which may evolve
into*
yet another ****** acronym
O! MY God!
What the Hell!
Garbage in, garbage out.
WIBN
IYSWIM
TPTB
*saw fit to agree
which may evolve
into
YABA
***
WTH
GIGO
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 12:57 AM UTC
Everything I say bounces off the walls in your brain.
The drink made you insane-
I've seen it once, I see it again,
I prepare myself for another bitter end.
It's relentless, it's hopeless
The way you give in
It's just like how my mother made you
Bury yourself in sin.
It's my childhood all over again.
Everyone tells me I don't deserve this;
I didn't deserve any of it.
I'm not a *****
But I'm ********
Microwave your mind's eye
And I'll be busy rebuilding mine.
It's a level of a detachment
That mingles wth dissociation.
The creak of the wheel turning in your head-
It's falling off the track.
You are not my father
When you are drunk.
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 5:50 PM UTC
Today I stand so weary,
Knowing not what to do.
I gasp for breath,
but all I get is smoke and soot.
Why have we caused death to stand so boldly at our door?
As it dances to embrace another coughing soul.
Our cities which were filled with dreams,
Are piled wth hoards of trash.
Breakfast that was marked with bread and coffee filled with cream ,
Is now replaced with pills and stash.
Garbage dumps have thrown away the pretty gardens,
children no more play catch.
Blooming lilies
a rare sight,
As that of clear skies.
"TIMES HAVE CHANGED " TIMES HAVE CHANGED"
Feverishly you exclaim.
but what good is change if humanity has lost it's claim
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 7:10 AM UTC
Our lives are our franchise
The comparisons so
Success is important to both
They'll need it to grow
Each is CEO of their own
Which means success is on you
To establish the guidelines
And assemble a crew
The mission at hand
Keeping your cooperation outta the hole
This can be done by employing
Only those who play a positive role
We're brought into this world
With really no say
With that in mind now think about
All the companies BORN just today
Everyday new competition is created
Some are bound to lose
All of this is decided solely
On which method each will choose
Some give everything they have
Require very little in return
Just watch their franchise fail
They often show no real concern
If you don't protect your assets
Then thats the choice you make
But when you empire collapses
Just know it's no mistake
With no room for weakness
Requires strong self esteem and self love
What these companies consider profit
I've clearly listed right above
Since it's a dog eat dog world
There are challenges we'll face
Is keeping up with the rest
In this competitive race
Keep your wheels in motion
Avoid the cons and the fake
Who have nothing much to give
Yet alway seem to leave wth more than they can take
So consider your worth
As your company grows
And share success with real friends only
While ignoring any foes
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 8:58 PM UTC
You are irrelevant to perfection
Correction, you are completely irrelevant to perfection
And the conception of myself holding your rugged hand
and walking freely by the ocean, wth my toes lingering in the sand
while listening to the perpetuating hush of the ocean's waves
is what my mind and heart secretly craves
Maybe your the one to save me from melting
from sweltering in the blazing sun's rays
Maybe you'd capture the moon and put an end to my dying days
The crisp air from the lunar twilight would compel me
It's almost like a glorious spell that would one day set me free
But I can't handle the frost, and the spark of your icy eyes
Cold like hell but so beautifully blue i can't help but be mesmerized
They resemble the once so majestic skies that lied behind the ocean
with the waves rising and falling in a strict perpetual motion
Jan 30, 2012
Jan 30, 2012 at 8:54 PM UTC
As Sunday wakes, I watch the sunrise
Peaking over the yawning Sawtooth Range.
Idaho's Rocky Mountain loving arms wide open
Stretch to embrace the East fork of the Salmon
It’s at this bend I feel the need to take in
All the wonderment, that emerges to take my breath away.
I load my rod and chart a path for my line,
As I spot two survivors, drifting in and out of the undercut.
Feeling good about this, I offer up a clodhopper,
It drifts by unacknowledged, not even a balk.
WTH I think to myself, as I tie on a dropper,
And make one last presentation…………….
“Well I’ll be ****** never seen a trout yawn.”
- K.E. Carman 2017
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 5:28 PM UTC