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Reflection Upon FearI've searched for the arbitrary,
Found places abandoned to a plague,
Under restoration yet unrestored:
Awl-marks tagged for eternity,
Fresh rage scored the plaster,
Hastily-painted mural of Christ
Marred upon the stone façade,
The scaffolding’s chain of pipes
And planks were
Dark with soot, vacated.
Some things in us that we can't see
Are narrow, dead ends from pillar
To post, soundlessly guiding where
We shouldn't be led.
He who grabs and demands an open hand
From which to stand again
May stand, higher even,
On other men.
Dust particles poised to curse us,
We cannot cure the condition of "versus".
Children play kick-the-can
With a dented censer;
I watch them battle with each kick, a
Fresh perfume of cinders.
The Carrion My fingers itch to intertwine
With votive texts; the withered spine
Of ills and mornings lost
To fingerprints, embossed.
Remembering the aimless days,
I cannot sleep, a clawing craze
Comes atom-small but grows
And stirs my firm repose.
But roguish ran the vein of plot,
What complicated parts and naught
A show of lissome prose,
I turn inward and close.
God with honor, hang your head,
Wild silk you've spun instead
Of Truth's thread; your traces,
Features in our faces.
What partly-colored pain is this,
Acrylic and acidic kiss -
Your stories are no home,
No crueler end can come.
My fingers now are filthy teeth,
Old artworks drawing blood beneath
The words I can't pronounce;
Hunger is but an ounce.
Heaven's a tempest carrying
The carrion meat - the craving
For purpose, in service;
The search for worth, bi
Iceboundmore infinite than
space are memories made
blind in moonlight
trembles beneath the touch of
dawn's first breath
camouflage of ice,
the waves' sigh
of snow cradles dawn,
the ice solidifies
one hesitant step
leads a man's wanderlust thoughts
to something lost
harsh sunlight echoes
upon the waters shore. her
breath lingers no more.
In Wait (A Tale Of Untaken Bait)Bass stop snapping up the squid,
Ditto for the halibut;
Yellowtail pop up, the line never taut.
She'd Take The Devil At His WordAt first glance, her world rolls on
Unbroken, timid eyes;
At first thought, she can't be tender,
Would quickly dart and strip away
Ecstasy's face; a compelling fire
Of flesh in offering
To the night's knife-sharp perspiration.
How beautiful that form expressed,
Pulled by splinters beneath a skin of ropes
And smeared like a thick liquor;
Her possession, becoming possessed,
A devil's depth in adjuration
That I may gash her to pieces and receive nothing;
Her being hollow -
I swallow -
Her being a song, I sing.
Digital WitnessAlready now it stings, hollow nibbles between being swallowed whole,
I die tonight, my life destined to be shared and liked,
Already now it seems the billowy ocean of clicks have found me.
I died without trying, to see him at the pane I sit,
To meet him whom unsubscribed, my life a lofty prize
Plowed through and trod down, powerless against the scroll.
Already now the force of blows, mixed with the incense-steam,
Seem to me less as weapons, more melancholy comments
Attentively neglected; I trust nothing, and expect less.
I am hostage to a powerful host,
Honored to be an awful ghost
Living still in others' eyes,
Through old memories and new replies.
Expectation Of An AvalancheOur emptiness, our spades and saws,
Old tools become debris,
The shattered bricks, a flayed applause
Shaking the snowy sea.
Tomorrow and the muted crawl,
The air's shock caught up, surging fall,
Beyond, until the motion stalls.
The bloodless gallop of the void
Between a dreamer's bones,
And at the foot lay there, destroyed,
Dissolving little ones -
So was it then, an elegy?
To soften their geometry,
So was it, then?
So was it then
When ice was all that I could see?
Alignment of translucent dunes,
Glass roofs but gravestones be;
Giving shelter to shedding moons
All polished perfectly.
An avalanche, as one would say,
No anchored noise thrown in the way,
To seize the feet with frozen clay.
Yet convalescence strips away
That jewel-box whose stems may slake
The eyes' long-thirsty lust of gray -
Our emptiness outwears and breaks.
No arabesque to dress the heart
Nor quickly sway its idle aches;
To whisk off vertigo, to part,
Our emptiness o
And Chains Will Not Release MeA certain pride and certain awe I see,
At times, your ardor all but has you gripped,
Yet not with love for your own child, or me,
But only for his newest manuscript.
Your verses are a gift from God himself,
Yet you dwell on those sentences amiss,
'Tis your novels that should be on the shelf,
But you treat each word as a crude, lewd kiss.
I'm writing this in hopes that you may know,
Finally understand what you ignore,
My veiled voice has long been pleading "Go..",
But 'tis I who must choose to stay no more.
Your words have chains and meaning thick as lead,
And chains will not release me once they're said.
I AmI am one who hungers for things she cannot have and who dreams of only nonexistence.
I wonder how people plan for the future for it looks like an empty void of luck and chance.
I hear the beat and the melodies of songs that never leave my head, songs I often daydream to.
I see the flutter of my drapes, the bounce in my friend's walk, the slope of my brother's back and question why I do.
I want nothing more than for someone to say I am theirs with nothing but sincerity and pride and passion and love.
I am one who hungers for things she cannot have and who dreams of only nonexistence.
I pretend to see those that are only colors and lines in the hardest of times for I know they will always be there.
I feel more sympathy and love for characters who dance across my screen more than I feel for the real people around me.
I touch my friend's hand through the computer screen whenever we talk, even though we have never met.
I worry about my choices, what I did in the past; never shaking off the
Days that are no MoreIt conjures up old memories
nothing on earth could compare.
The words, in thirst of expression
of my heart
can at all times be found there...
Where cardinals rest
on snow covered branches
in trees, of winters' past...
I would peacefully watch
my warm breath before me
become a cloud of smoke
in the cold contrast.
...And they would take flight on occasion,
but always to return again.
Their red wings denoting
their comings and goings
always, without a question...
So suddenly, is the feeling
of what it is that I'm longing for...
A memory...With silver lining.
Days - that are no more.
By loveis-linda AKA LindArtz ©
A Poem Dedicated to Robin Williams.
A man of many different faces.
Whose joy and energy,
Always filled the hearts of many
Through out the entire, modern world.
The one who always made us laugh,
Even in our dark times,
Though none could have seen
The battle he fought, deep within.
He fooled us to the very end,
So full of life and light.
The actor who gave more
Then he ever took.
Robin Williams, forever gone.
But never forgotten.
Who he was made him
Stand out from the crowd.
And yet, hour laughter
Made him become stronger
And more wild in sight.
Robin Williams, a man
Who always wanted to
Help others more then
Himself. Kind of like me.
But who could tell
What he was fighting
Deep inside, a war with depression.
A war he long fought.
Who says a man can be weak?
All of his roles, and all of his fans
Each role seemed to represent
A Part of ourselves.
From the quirky Professor Phillip Brainard.
To kindly Mrs Doubtfire.
And the carefree genie from Aladdin.
From the crazy and kind alien
Who always said Nanu Nanu.
These were but a
She is not a ModelShe is not a model.
She is only just fourteen.
You will not find her marketed
Upon the silver screen.
She is not a model,
She may be a size eighteen,
But does that really matter?
Not a model, but a Queen.
She is not a model,
Her long hair has been cut off.
And most don't even bother
To find the diamond in the rough.
She is not a model,
She may have some issues, too.
However, when she feels like it,
She can act, well, just like you.
She is not a model,
She trips over in heels,
But after the exterior,
Can you tell how she feels?
She is not a model,
And really, who should care?
Judging someone by their looks
Is really just unfair.
She is not a model,
She can dress just how she wants,
She doesn't need you for confidence
And her awesome style she flaunts.
She is not a model,
And this poem she will write,
Just because she's feeling mad
At 12:00 midnight.
Time For Adventurous ProcrastinationTime is at my fingertips everyday
Yet I spend them on words and play
Instead of taking the time to work
I venture where the dust bunnies lurk
It's strange to spend my day away
To go off the beaten path and stray
It's not bad, not a crime of any sort
Discovery is worthy as a golden quartz
It's my mini adventure from home
Where I can fly, surf, and roam
I meet invisible, unreachable friends
They give me nice chats that rarely end
Wish, grant my wish to escape reality!
Give me something without normality!
Let me surf on the silky, silvery sea
And unlock many more happiness for me
And so I continue to use, not misuse
The precious time where I let loose
Death's Truth“I have never kept the truth from you,” Death said to me.
“I have never locked it away deep inside of me.
The truth I tell is for your own good, and I just want you to see
What will always be expected in the years you will live freely —
I took the happiness that kept you sane, which was luminously,
As it dwelled in the darkness that engulfed you so profoundly.
In all your youth years, you’ve claimed you were lonely,
And then I came along and took another from you not angrily
But caringly. Without me, you wouldn’t have been awakened and aimlessly,
Allowing Life to fool you into their game and carelessly
Lying to you about what shall come and what shall not continuously.
I am harsh and I know it very well, but I am not the villain many say clearly.
I assist players, who need the devastating pain to help them move onward bravely,
But then I’m considered the bad guy as the player does my job for me and does it abruptly.
The truth is, you don’
God s wondrous work of artWe all come into this world the same way,
we´re just born on different days.
Everyone is so unique,
some are strong , some are weak.
Some do good, some do wrong,
some are touched by the devils prong.
Society and up bringing play a central part,
in how a person performs and acts
and if he has a heart.
Parental love can influence
the way a child behaves
and fill his life with happiness
throughout his childhood days.
we are all so very different
we must learn to get along
showing love in this world
to which we all belong
cos every man knows deep down
at the center of his heart,
we´re all great individuals,
Gods wondrous work of art.
by Suzanne Karbach 17th August 2014
Scattered DreamsEvery now and then I look to the sky
To muse on a particular cloud gone passing by.
Cotton ball fancies and marshmallow dreams
Dance the thin line between blue sky and sunbeams
Until their random singularities inevitably scatter,
Leaving nebulous reflections of no real matter.
Their brief architectures begin as they end,
All on the whim of the sadistic wind.
Having lost the unique shapes they had,
They weep down to earth perpetually sad,
Much the same as Saint Lucifer fell.
The tears of heaven are the raindrops of hell.
Eagle and the BearBorn in the land of the eagle
unto the blood of the bear.
I learned early across horizons of time
that life, is never fair.
Yet I've found, through many failures
have come out of them more gain;
for born unto me of freedom, the wings of the eagle
and the fight of the bear in my veins.
For with grace I soar
and in strength I roar.
My spirit, ANGERS for justice!
Together, with the eagle's eye
and the bear's great, fighting size;
Opression - shall BOW
what love is not.it was a s l o p p y first kiss where
my drunk lips fumbled against yours.
the dull thwack of my heart,
locked behind curved ribs
cleared my groggy brain,
clouded with lustful premonitions.
it was an e l e c t r i f y i n g first kiss where
you entwined your hands in my hair.
your mouth encompassed mine and
my breath became lost in the steady
of your chest.
it was a s h y first kiss where
i pulled away before you could explore.
your tongue grazed my teeth,
searching for a way past the ivory gates.
i dug my finger into the stubble along your jaw,
my nail lulling your carnal desires.
it was my first kiss with you.
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