"zillions" poems
A paintbrush on fire
it isn't yet done.
Paints in broad daylights
in cool cloudy darks
often relaxes down the line
when the rain pours down
and the flute is on play
it isn't yet done.
The sea at the clement eve
strives to splash over
this rainbow-kissed brush
the moon will thaw the billow
with moonlight
before the waking
sleeping beauty's eyes
and the night will pour over it,
it's full bowl eternally pitch black
only to see lighting up
zillions of stars
on the paintbrush
it isn't yet done!
Apparently that looks only kohl
the night eyes in within a colour
eternally weighed down
out of sight mass hues
looking to visualise a scoop
paints yet one more first light.
Full of colours the paintbrush
it isn’t yet done!
Aug 17, 2022
Aug 17, 2022 at 1:13 PM UTC
Don't be late
dip your toes fast.
It's up to you
if you want to do it
at the same time
when the day too
melts down into
one more pith dark
finishing line.
The twilight has a
lot to digest then
as one more day
cools off into it's bold
deep painting splash
make sure you go first.
Before the waxing moon
scurries to the sea
looking for it's mirror
on the deep shady water
only to discover
zillions overlooking stars
are already there!
Jul 21, 2022
Jul 21, 2022 at 11:02 PM UTC
I,
Am a teenaged girl
Lost between the deminsions of
Fantasy
And
Reality.
I am a Filipino and Mexican
Knowing no spanish
Lost in a language my mother has forgotten.
I am what it means to be a human being.
Trying my best to be there
Making zillions of mistakes that end up drowning me in the end.
Wanting to remember but always forgetting
Wanting to help but saying the wrong things at the wrong time.
Trying to find a place in the world
Only to end up being isolated like a lone wolf.
I am what it means to be a student,
Not loving the whole school system but trying her best to prove it wrong.
Educated by watching the world, day by day,
Philosophizing life
Analyzing the story lines that mean something
Surviving in a jungle we call High School
And day by day,
Struggling in classes just to pass it.
I am, what it means to be
not so smart, not stupid at all but
a hard worker, learning everything I can with the little time the school system provides.
So,
Who am I?
Well for starters,
To tell you who I am,
I'd have to spend the majoirty of my life writing a one hundred paged book,
With only one page that has one sentence of writing that says,
"Too much to say, ask me another day."
Who I am,
Is a teenaged-Filipina-Latina-video gaming-anime loving-poetry/story writing-girl
Who is always lost in her own world~
Dec 11, 2011
Dec 11, 2011 at 4:18 AM UTC
Confessions of a Blessed Hedonist.( tri word line)
-1- -3-
Lived this long, what makes change?
Time just flew, a metamorphosis divine?
Mind playing games worms to butterflies,
Heart desiring ever. saviors, angels, messiahs?
extreme cravings doused. what makes humane,
opiates in zillions, friends, lovers, brothers?
Cocktails, a million. Destinies unknown working,
Endless revelries futile, in times unconscious,
Loves instant, genuine. drunken slumbers dead,
Clean beds crumpled, uncaring deeds cruel,
Checkouts late rewarded. Unmanly acts shameful.
-2- -4-
Friends dear betrayed, maybe one dream,
Away bartered loves. among nightmares plenty,
Much monies made, that one love-germ,
Abandoned ethics many. under in-differences heaped,
Gods all rejected, faint glimmering self,
Except the Hedonistic! beneath mountainous egos,
World enjoyed fully, a sparkling life-sign,
Life wasted lovely. in cemeteries silent.
Morphing every second, causes matter not,
Into grandiose nothing, by destiny’s graces,
Skeleton cynical final. gratefully unscathed still.
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 12:42 AM UTC
I know an abyss is
between you and me
seas and oceans billow
the overlooking moon
is untouched like it was before.
I know drifting off onto
a moonlight polished pillow
is not everyone's lucky go.
But not that never
once or more
did a star one or two
among the zillions
across your lunar brow
peeped in my dream
sweetening my nap.
But I know no sleep never
can made me forgot
my only moon-dew firefly glows
tuberoses shine by my windows!
Jul 11, 2022
Jul 11, 2022 at 8:31 PM UTC
Painted it in the deep
dark night.
Still, it's the moon
of zillions of stars!
Oct 22, 2022
Oct 22, 2022 at 10:29 PM UTC
zillions
of ones
caught up
in our
game
where death
never ends
all lives
filled with
pain
there's billions
in ruins
every day
it's the
same
but those are
my friends
and I
feel such
shame
knowing
we are
©2012 Lyn
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 3:56 PM UTC
Sunshine, spice and spades.
Butterfly's, beards and bread.
Yellow, yearbooks and yodeling.
Paint, pizza and platinum.
Music, melons and magic.
Zoos, zippers and zillions.
Apples, analysis and art.
Waiting, wagons and wafflers.
Give me a beer with friends any day.
Life's more fun that way.
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 8:40 PM UTC
Zillions of tweaking bums
Sitting here and there some are rambling non stop
Others are rolling the glass ****
Or WITH a rig in their,arm
Sometimes you see a few tweakers
Staring at the the pipe begging
With crocodile tears these we all know as fiends
Drama fills the little shack
Stolen electronics array and ***** needles in every trash can.. as well is outside on the ground
Sad and pitiful
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 3:08 AM UTC
Often the news gives me the blues
I really ought to choose
to simply refuse
I mean really, what will I lose
Schadenfreude?
no that isn't it
truth is stranger than fiction
more like a fascination with the surreal
or a blinded self-affliction with the scroungy real deal
Talking heads that speak for work
punctuate sentences with erratic head jerks
nobody normal talks that way, they ask rhetorical questions
when the answer's are known, they’re killing time
“rephrase the question, run the clock out
a commercial will spare us the embarrassment of doubt.”
Take’s a special person to face each new day
with zillions of prying eyes hanging on every word you say
the mendicant voyeurs of utter destruction’s charming new day
the slashing machete melt down of the abject speakers foray
"Oh say, can you see by the dawns early light"
What's become of your people and their obsession with fright
desensitization is paramount to achieve an abeyance of light
Frankenfoods, and "side affects" hideous monsters in the making
high resolution mayhem require victims for the taking
awaking half-dead like Dracula’s each dusk
they'll find a cure, there's another vaccine, there’s always dumb luck
maybe you won't be the sucker that makes that dreadful scene
bludgeon your mind with a another faker, a different fresh news team
fobbing your leery eyes you ponder “they can’t possibly all be the same!”
different day, different month, different year, same game
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 1:03 PM UTC
Absolutely and without a doubt she is the
Best thing that ever happened me. She strode
Casually and awkwardly into my life, in the process
Defining for me the until-then
Ever-changing parameters of what I wanted.
**** I can’t get out of my mind this blue eyed
Goddess of a girl who is always
Hoping for something more.
I love her so much and yet I have a habit of playing practical
Jokes to hide how much the distance is
Killing me.
Looking at us, you would never know we’ve spent
More months apart than we had together.
Never did I think that she would be The
One; that love would be so easy; that she would be so
Perfect.
Questions ricochet around the mazes of her mind, she examines the world extensively,
Riveting anyone who takes the time to listen to her discoveries.
Sassy, **** and smart, she’s got everything and
To me she is everything.
Ubiquitous, there is nothing that doesn’t make me think of this girl, life itself serving as a constant
Validation that she exists- that she is not too good to be true.
While the earth rockets its way through space it’s as if
Xanthan gum holds us together, no matter how far apart you
Yank us, we’re stuck like glue. I could talk about her forever, literally
Zillions of words could be said about this wonder of a woman who will never cease to be
The alphabet spelling out the rhythm of my heart.
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 6:39 PM UTC
*Even now as I live, sing and paint
Eat drink, love and make merry
Wondering of my source, roots unknown
Aware of this body and the world transient
A pushing soul ever screaming for good
A mind pondering of my seed and state
A million eons past,zillions more in future.
WHO AM I ?!
Still tempted by flesh, corrupted in greed
overcome by the same transience perceived
When the universe expanded shrinks fast
To an atom, a silent sound unheard by earth
I am just bony dust in a star afar dead again
Do I matter? yes I am here and I am now, mindful
Of right and so UN-scared of death,the seed of life
I live paint and sing,for my place on the star afar dead!
I AM THAT.*
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 4:18 PM UTC
On on select part of an Israeli beach in Haifa
Army kids, boys and girls
Crowded in this one place
Cordoned off by Kadeema
Badmitton without the net
or soft little bungy thing
Two ping pong rackets and one
hard ball back and forth
Bat! Bat!
Two boys, in lines up and down
their beach, two rows deep at least
near the water's edge for traction
Walk through and a ball heads for your face
but never hits
they are that good
and you feel silly
for being scared
until a racket whacks near your ear
and your hair moves
with a current of air
Zillions of bat! Bats!
They never think to
stop for your benefit
that is not in their culture
as you are unscathed,
only fearful
A beach cluttered with boys and girls
sit on old towels close together
Ceaseless, lively chatter in the hot sun
Displaying to each other as the sound of kadeema
and the ocean waves slosh in and out
Girls relaxed ******* start to peak out
of their string bikinis
As boys look on, move closer
ever closer
and the ******* feeling safe, expose themselves more
to the Mediterranean sun
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 5:55 PM UTC
today,
walked the river arcade,
by the river~side.
same,
where, & when,
a decade earlier
and a laugh ago,
we performed
a daily differential calculus
of the distance to that line,
a watermark,
where my accidental drowning
would be insurance covered
don’t recall, if back then,
poetry writin’ was a good
a daily companion, or-even
a mere passing acquaintance
but went to
all-in-all-alone-freedom,
found riches,
yet still pressed in rags
of remorse, mourning surely,
until & still a
woman, or
three, rated me a
good looking edible,
even
if only didn't always dress
in black, head to toes, like an
extra cool new yorker, or an
attendee at my own fun~ereal
since those days,
gallons millions, zillions
of brackish seawater has flowed
out to sea as far as
England, Philippines, New Zealand,
whichever be connected to the
rain water of Adirondack mountains
flowing past East 57th Street,
my salty tears replenished,
but time changed the causation,
from oy to joy in simp terms
that rhymes…with me and yours
water woman water woman water
makes the heart capable of weeping
tears of joy,
oh! happy drowning
how do
you cross from woman to water,
that, now I walk on a
water bridge of loving
hard, steel & liquidity of
concrete, smooth roughness
became the path to loving living
Nov 21, 2024
Nov 21, 2024 at 7:13 AM UTC
Little tiny beads
Vibrating in space
Connecting us all together
Like loving mates
Little tiny beads
Zillions of years old
Came from a start
That was growing old
Little tiny beads
The children of old starts
Came together
To form who we are
Little tiny beads
Connecting us all
Giving us a ****
Unthinkable ages old
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 11:39 PM UTC
We can't know them
By their religion.
Too much hypocrisy.
We can't know them
By politics.
It's ever-changing... or not.
We can't know them
By country.
Zillions emigrate and immigrate.
We can't know them
By their clothes.
Emperor or not.
We can't know them
By their words.
Too many equivicators.
We can't know them
By their jobs.
At home or away.
We can't know them
By their family.
Nuclear or extended.
We can't know them
By their deeds.
They say one thing, and do another.
But look to the roadside.
In the ditches.
By the curb.
In the bins.
Ye shall know them by their garbage.
Nov 21, 2024
Nov 21, 2024 at 10:11 AM UTC
this is you living when you are standing beneath the vast expanse of ocean blue sky, under winter white clouds; hands in the air and wind in your face. the mountain is cold but you are warm and the moon is up even though the sun still shines. heavy breaths don't mean anything here, not when you're at eye level with the sky and every step on ground is the same as flying in the air. the sky and you are one, breaths mingling and every atom in your being - zillions and trillions of them - a part of the canvas that paints our planet with the light that is the sun and moon, the lanterns that are our stars. as you are still and the voices blur in the background, with your arms high and laughter ringing; a smile creeps onto your face, slow and sly like the waning curve of the pale moon.
this is you living when there are two children in your arms and the gentle pull of their hands against your arms along their torsos sparks the love in your tired heart. it is their innocence and their smiles that ignite your ***** into working again, the steady pulse growing stronger with every hug and memory. they tell you they love you and will miss you always, and then you realise there is nothing like falling in love all over again, and as you wave goodbye you know that love will always hurt you, but it is always worth suffering for.
this is you living when you are on the road trip of your life with the people you have come to love, in a little van with cream coloured seats and tinted glass windows; screaming at the top of your lungs to the constant beat of the house music that blasts fervently in the background, only because your driver secretly believes he owns a portable club. there is dancing and singing and repeated laughter, hands and heart abandoned to the winding roads of this new and foreign country that already feels like home. trees and buildings and scenery flies past the windows and when the door opens at every stop, others gape and only wish they were where you are.
this is you living when you are on the plane ride home and there are continued drops and shakes and little quakes that make others faint. you are an exception to this rule, a grin on your face and sparks in your eyes at the excitement of it all - because when you're flying above the clouds it feels free and you feel alive. living. actually being. and in that moment, all these things come together and you realise this is it. this is everything you've wanted and everything you thought could never happen but happened anyway. and despite the heartache and the brokenness that lingers in the corners of your soul, this is the part in your existence that makes you glad that you still exist, that you are breathing and here and alive.
this is how to live, and i will live it all.
(A.H.Z)
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC
She is no heaven
She brings no hell
A tender mess of earth
She smells of pure mud
Up at the sky, I look at myself
Burning inside with zillions stars
-Just to light her up
-Just to see her shine
She revolves in way
-such mystifying
Alluring with those twists,
swooshing her hair of curly forest
,eyes with reserved invitation
Refusing to shine on my lights
Its not mere coincidence
when stars fall on sky
Its me , my egos falling
its me, my gods getting high
its me, falling on my knees
pulled by desires of temptation
to smell the rain on mud
to get drowned in ocean of love
To whisper under her hair
close to her eyes
at her dimples
swirling round- dizzy and elated
With time stuck
all stars at brightest
moons lost
heaven crushed
hell forgotten
vanishing
anihilated
with breath that will take forever
I whisper words... to be forever true
aahhyi lloveee yyyyyu
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 4:48 AM UTC
When I was young,
I thought
that the only artists
that there were,
were the famous ones
that I heard about,
because there is this
illusion
in our culture
that the famous people
are the only visible people,
so I thought
that if I grew up
and became
an artist, poet, composer,
musician, dancer, photographer,
etc.
that I would be
one of the famous ones,
but what I didn't know
was that for every one
of the famous ones,
there are zillions
of people on the bottom,
who can't get anywhere,
who work at the arts
for their entire lives
and their stuff winds up
in the dumpster,
and I found out
that there are very few of us
who wind up
like Van Gogh, too,
like that our art
becomes famous
after we die,
so it's the one percent
and ninety nine percent
law
of our culture
that applies to the economy
and also to this thing
that I am involved with
called art.
Good Luck!
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 2:37 AM UTC
Little white lies,
how strange you are!
While parents taught the best policy
is honesty,
impoliteness dies
on our lips to save
others from the grave,
sent there by embarrassment
and save ourselves the harassment.
Little white lies,
how convenient you are!
You have the gratitude eternal
of zillions of children
who attempt escape
of everything from responsibilities
to punishment
for wrongdoings and indiscretions
they commit by laziness and carelessness
and simple child innocence.
Little white lies,
how true you are! You reflect and reveal
the subject of the shame we feel.
of how far we are to go
to dispel with truth
then only the illusion we show
Because, well, then
even the littlest white lie can grow.
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 11:36 PM UTC
in the vast bush skies
on this night zillions of stars
burn ever so bright
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 6:42 AM UTC
I wish you were here:
For one more birthday to honor your presence.
For one more Easter to decorate your house.
For one more Thanksgiving to help with cooking.
For one more Christmas to open so many presents.
For one more occasion to say that we love you.
For one more day of sharing your kindness.
For one more hour of telling some secrets.
For many more moments of getting to know you,
and to hold your hands as you desperately needed.
For zillions of times to mend whatever was broken.
I wish you were here:
For you to appreciate the beauty of nature.
For you to take journeys you weren't able to finish.
For you to stand outside without a wheel chair below you,
and walk for so many miles as the sun gives you comfort.
I wish you were here:
For you to be able to enjoy your grandchildren, and spend
more time which was devastatingly shortened.
For you to be living instead of taken from us.
For you to be healthy and happy without the pain that you
suffered. I wish you could be here to do this again.
Now that you're gone and the distance is lonely, my smiling
has vanished while the tears are constantly flowing.
I am here, you left me behind. You are there, Heaven is
privileged. I miss you my dear mother. and I'm hoping you've
heard me. When it's my time to go, I pray that you'll find me.
Deborrah Ann Stenberg
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 12:00 PM UTC
I thought they said the beautiful ones are not yet born?
But here is one I've met and she makes heads turn
Melting mortals mountains like wax with just a smile
Her acquistion of this exquisite charm is vague
once upon a time she must have been a priestess
The sculptor sculpted out this idyllic sculpture
From legs that were carved out of the finest wood
Hips tucked in like the wings of an eagle
To a belly which spreads out like the plains of the Serengeti
Up to that soft round breast and clipped ******* that plumps the depth of feminine charms.
Along with a neck that boast of the only head
Having hairs that cascade down like zillions of waterfalls
With molten eyes and succulent lips that leads to rapid volcano
Mother nature presents her utmost treasure
The enchantress!!
Yes! That's what I call her
At the sight of her,I disguise my feelings with a blank page
But my heart don't fail to complain about its encumbrance by the rib cage
Every idea branded to prove this feeling is lust
Shows a clean pair of heels leaving the air with dust
Like every mortal mountains I've always had a deep crater inside of me
Cause by the eruption of molten magma the first day she was beside me
But I can't let her know;Not now that my valley are filled with settlers
Caves filled with beast and I've become a dung site for birds
Probably when my coast is clear and I have a clean free flowing tributary
Then she can come and make me her place of sanctuary
Adorn me with her idols and fill me with echoes of her enchantment.
The enchantress!!
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 4:33 PM UTC
I remember the millions arms that has comforted me till date,
I also remember that in this twilight of my voyage called life,
Not one but altogether only,
Could satisfy me from all aspects.
As warm as the tears almost rolling down my wrinkled cheeks,
I paused to remember having seen and felt all the zillions of experiences I had ever dreamt of,
All the houses under the dream Devadarus lived under,
All the wonders that has rushed the blaze in my veins,
Before, On or After, for definite!
I stand staring into this abyss of seeing the faintly sparkling firefly of dots,
Of the cosmos of linking all that I have dreamt of seeing, smelling, feeling and hearing,
to have already surpassed me,
Before, On or After, for definite!
And all that I look forward is the cloud-clad sparkling and coziest fluffy heaven of my dreams,
If all has to be true,
That part for definite should be too!
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC
Tonight is so stunning
That I can't bring myself to sleep
I simply cannot miss the
Complexities of the constellations
I cannot pass up the opportunity
To connect the swirling ***** of gas
Billions, trillions, zillions of miles away
And I feel that way everyone does
When they truly take the time
To stare up instead of down
I feel… minuscule.
Just a girl on Earth.
So small
A speck of dust in the tapestry of space and time
I embrace this moment
I hold it deep in my chest
Praying that prior to all 21 grams of me
Disappearing into the vast nothingness
That I remember this
This night, this exact second
I hope, wish, dream that this is what I'll hang on to.
This is what will get me through.
This is what will save my soul.
This. This night is everything I am.
But I know that isn't true.
I know that when I float up into…
Wherever…
That the only thing, the last thing
On my mind
Will be you.
And for that, I apologize
To the sky.
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 9:09 PM UTC