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Metaphor Philosophy Poems | Metaphor Poems About Philosophy

These Metaphor Philosophy poems are examples of Metaphor poems about Philosophy. These are the best examples of Metaphor Philosophy poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Quintain (English) | |

Vitrine-mannequin on a Winter night I

Mannequin

Dependent was and amorous obsession 5.5
in burning desert, fresh canteen 4
his sidewalk's fantasy and thoughts' digression, 5.5
the strongest coffee's roasted bean 4
(their phantasms met beyond projectors' light). 5

Exquisite stood upfront, unmoving posture,
distressing emptiness of soul,
unreachable resort her sightly stature,
(- expending skies and ozone hole),
prêt à porter vitrine, on Winter's night.

Behind the glass, a still and standing shadow
abates his hopes (gray sky suspends),
( he takes his foolish stance of wooden scarecrow,
- that through odd sprawls the fields attends ),
was she the blessing of the Gods or else?...

His allegorical, but lonely feeling,
instilled inside, without defect,
while speechless phantoms crossed sky's ceiling,
the downpour soaked, warmth to reject,
(ersatz their wedlock's knolling, fast dispels).

Her uppish, elegant of stance, adjacent,
within arm's reach, kind of abstruse,
albeit abstained, of secular indulgence,
(his head acquired a tilt obtuse),
invited him through faultless, charming lies.

A brass trumpet dispersed its jazzy spieling,
he, thoughtless, leaned on some red booth,
adored her raised one hand's refined appealing,
(- that altruistic, smiling tooth!),
and gazing to the stars but vacant eyes!...

© G.V. 11-16-2013, All Rights Reserved

(Iambic Quintain following 5.5, 4, 5.5, 4, 5 feet on each stanza. 
The rhyme scheme follows this pattern: 
ABABC DEDEC, FGFGH, IJIJH ... and so on.)
(Allegory, Humor)


Details | Free verse | |

YOU MAN

You Man

-a request by Mam Aiyah

You as a man can fill up this world
With the love of your heart,
Let them flow into your veins
As the oxygen of your spirit
Goes into the lungs of your kindness

You as a man can share the thoughts of your brain,
Even though your memory is not that enough to complete the story
Let your axon abound and connect to the spinal cord of your dreams

You as a man can smile with your lips
Let there be a good quotes for every word
Of your mouth as they slip,
Swallow all the sorrows, 
Cut the sadness of your teeth, make them fly away

You as a man can show your eyes with happiness,
Mix this with inspirations
As they blink in with visionaries

You as a man can smell the fragrance of nice posture
Strain the bad from good using your cilia,
As your thumb and index made it concrete
And threw them at a distance

You as a man can hear solutions,
Can fight all the negative pictures
With your muscles in your skeleton,
You can build a problem killer device
Energy is your emotions,

You as a man can face all of your knotty points
You can hold the sky,
As your feet stay on the ground…
Because you as a MAN,
Is H U M A N…


Details | Sonnet | |

SEE-SAWS


What playground does not hold the magic lure
Of see-saws firmly braced upon their stands?
What child resists excitement, felt for sure
In ups and downs: the hard thump when he lands
And surging thrill of bouncing up again—
To know that when he's hit that lowest low,
It's followed by a swing to new heights when
He'll know once more the joy of that plateau?

In contrast of the see-saw truth is found,
For truly, were it stable, it would bore
The simplest mind; for only from the ground
Does grandeur of the heavens make its score.
     And only in imbalances we feel
     The balance that keeps life on even keel.

© Sandra M. Haight 2014
    All Rights Reserved

Contest: Teeter-Totter: Balance the Load
Sponsor: Sheri Fresonke Harper - Judged 10/7/2014
~4th Place~


Details | Quatrain | |

The Welfare Poem

The welfare poem is not for you
and not enough for anyone.
The welfare poem is very small
and not just given to everyone.

It's not enough to read for long.
It's just a little short.
It's not paid much attention to
and not the longing sort.

With thanks there's those who'll get it.
Those of who deserve it.
It's just some stolen words,
though I would soon forget it.

It's filled with much disgrace.
Those wary as they read.
It may be meant for you
if you accept the need.

I hope you have enjoyed it.
I'll cut you off for now.
But if you want more later
just beg there's more somehow.


Details | Free verse | |

Dementia

He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
Tough.
Independent.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died, 
he has not been the same.
Sad
Lonely
Empty.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
Mind slipping, 
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it, 
until now...
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain, 
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Oh well...
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best, 
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows 
what happens next.
Sedation
Medication
Anger
Hurt
All results of
dementia


Details | Free verse | |

Moments In Time

The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark

The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been 
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark. 


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Money

Money money, ringing in your tills,
Calling us to worship,
The hundred dollar bills.
Bend our knees in wonder,
Bow our heads in awe,
At the power of the liar,
Who now controls us all.
From the darkest deep caverns,
To the stars in the sky,
From the infinite universe,
To the strangers passing by.

From your inner most conviction,
To your laughing in the night,
From everything you 're  seeing,
To everything out of sight.

The new God has risen,
To claim the holy throne,
The one that we have emptied,
Our hearts all cold as stone.

The throne that we have emptied,
We killed the rightful king,
Sold his crown an sceptre,
Pawned his sacred  ring.

Raised his bleeding body,
Up on that bloody hill,
The silent lamb still bleeding,
As the money fills your tills.


Details | Free verse | |

Twigs

Twigs

Flowers bloom
And flowers wilt.
Flowers blush
And flowers fade.
The eternity is only in me-
The twig that bears the flowers.

Sparrows are born
And sparrows die.
Sparrows fly
And brighten the sky.
That who nurtures sparrows is me-
A cozy make of a twig upon a twig.

The sun fades
And moon is born.
The twilight blurs
And moonlight spreads.
All the soothing moonlight beams are me-
A crisscross of unfathomed twigs.

Whether in its birth
Or in its death;
In the heart
Of its heart;
The entire beauty is none but one-
A design of mysterious twigs.


Details | Verse | |

Vitrine-mannequin on a Winter night


Dependent was and amorous obsession 5.5
in burning desert, fresh canteen 4
his sidewalk's fantasy and thoughts' digression, 5.5
the strongest coffee's roasted bean 4
(their phantasms met beyond projectors' light). 5

Exquisite stood upfront, unmoving posture,
distressing emptiness of soul,
unreachable resort her sightly stature,
(- expending skies and ozone hole),
prêt à porter vitrine and cloudy night.

Behind the glass, a still and standing shadow
abates his hopes (the sky suspends),
( he takes his foolish stance of wooden scarecrow,
- that through odd sprawls the fields attends ),
was she the blessing of the Gods or else?...

His allegorical, but lonely feeling,
instilled inside, without defect,
while speechless phantoms crossed sky's ceiling,
the downpour soaked, warmth to reject,
(ersatz their wedlock's knolling, fast dispels).

Her uppish, elegant of stance, adjacent,
within arm's reach, kind of abstruse,
albeit abstained, of secular indulgence,
(his head acquired a tilt obtuse),
invited him through faultless, charming lies.

A brass trumpet dispersed its jazzy spieling,
he, thoughtless, leaned on some red booth,
adored her raised one hand's refined appealing,
(- that altruistic, smiling tooth!),
and gazing to the stars but vacant eyes!...

© 11-16-2013, All Rights Reserved
(Allegory-Humor)
Hellenic Quintain!
(Iambic Quintain following 5.5, 4, 5.5, 4, 5 feet on each stanza. 
The rhyme scheme follows this pattern: ABABC DEDEC, FGFGH, IJIJH ... and so on.)


Details | Tanka | |

Mantra in Mantle

They don’t walk to them
To beseech their shows of hands
They as a rule stay
On a raised dais and talk down
At their feet on crusade grounds


Details | Free verse | |

What Is It To Be A Tree

What is it to be a Tree?
Do trees ever mind being so close ...so intertwined ?
Do they ever long for space as I do? 
Do they prefer to be so meshed…branches touching branches
 all the time or do they like me long 
............................................................for autonomy

Do their branches reach for another’s touch? 
….................stretching to find it?
Do they cling and pine when isolated …as we do sometimes?

When a tree falls does another one grieve?
...............................................................

Do they sometimes wish to be free?
To be as free 
as he does....... from me?

Does life always include such serious stuff? 
Or do trees simply shift in the breezes
of superfluous fluff?

Do they ever 
wish 
to find
the sea?
To fly 
to fly?
just 
like me?
What on earth is it like ....to be?
to be a standing…a standing only ...are they lonely? 
beloved tree?
What is it?
to be a tree?



Details | Free verse | |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them


Details | Free verse | |

The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

The Game

My life has been one enormous charade,
A make believe game,
A play I have played, 
A story I tell myself, day and night,
Hidden from myself, out of sight,
A game of hide and seek,
While searching for something else to eat.

The game,
A cosmic game,
A comic game,
A bad joke,
A puff of smoke,
A laugh,
A bath,
A lonely path,
The Game.

I used to take it so seriously,
Think it, feel it so real, so perfectly,

So certain I that was right,
That I lived in the light,
So convinced that I knew the rules,
So obvious I had all the tools,
That I saw the truth, 
That I saw the light,
Would win the battle, win the fight.


Heard the sound of the distant drum,
Calling me to battle with the devious one.
The walls of my ego were high and mighty,
My dreams and delusions danced in front of me,
Their smooth dark surface impossible to climb,
Images I swallowed and thought were mine.


I made them alive, moving and real,
Twist and turn like a slimy eel,
Just to tell myself that I was still someone,
Playing in the game and having lots of fun,
Just to tell me and to tell you,
That I wasn't a loser,
So I wouldn’t hear the words game over.


Game over,
Check and mate,
Here's the gate,
You have to take,
Out of the Game,
The game of shame.


The game of avoiding being blue,
Of dogging the bullets they shot at you,
The atomic bomb they drop on your head,
The monsters that they put under your bed.


The game of hiding away,
Live to play another day,
Even if it's only make believe,
The prizes in plastic,
And not worth a dime,
At least I have the impression that they are mine,
At least I don't fell the pain,
The pain of shame,
In this perverted game.


So that I don't feel I'm a prisoner,
Tied to this post,
Don't even realise that I'm only a ghost,
That the truth is well hidden,
On the board of the game.

That the prizes are in plastic,
But they are shiny and new,
The paint hardly chipped,
The emptiness hardly shows through,
The laughing is loud,
The smiles are all warm and friendly,
And we are all together,
Joyful and happy.


The illusion is REAL,
And only the mad man knows,
That it's a rotten deal.

more of my poems at http://labyrinthoflies.com


Details | Ballad | |

Broken Dreams

  Do you believe in the things that you've always known,
Can you understand the things you've been shown.
   Is it the visions you see that make you believe,
Or is the feelings you get when you've been deceived.
    The pain you feel a never ending ache ,
Tearing your heart and soul from you every day.
    Time ticks slowly pounding away at you,
Throbbing heart breaking and there's you can do,
    Must I settle for these lost and broken dreams,
Because it has all the signs that what it seems.
    How much should a man endure to find his way,
It cant possibly be like this hard for me every day.
    There is nothing so frustrating as being so confused,
Especially when you've discovered that you've been used.
    I will get through this lonely phase I have no doubts,
But I'm sure there will come a day I'll figure it all out.
    Cautiously I walk the path that's been laid before me,
In faith I will continue for I know he will let me see.
    Life will be thrown at you in so many different ways,
I will be prepared for these things for the rest of my days.
    Broken dreams will be the learning tree for me to grow ,
Living my life with Joy Happiness is what I'll always Know.
tac


Details | Free verse | |

Just Be

Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass. 
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are. 

Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment. 
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers, 
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.

Jacob Reinhardt
10/07/13


Details | Free verse | |

Who Am I

A new photograph floats to the surface
Playfully dressing up as the world around me
Hat, striped socks and all
Tiptoeing at the top for one last sweet moment 
Before sinking back into my ocean mind.

One after another they arrive
Single file,
Steeping my eyes in the world 
As the minds shutter, ever fluttering 
Strings together this conscious stream I play in.

My photographs fade in time’s wrinkled arms.
Joining their brothers and sisters at the ocean floor,
They hold hands and try to answer the question that is always asking itself:
Who am I?

Jacob Reinhardt
10/3/2013


Details | Lyric | |

Solipsist

Let the Deicide commence.

You're a voyeur at best!
Your vampiric heart is beating out of your chest!
And you have slayed the ones whom would love you for anything less
Ready to consume the final fragments of innocence,
And for you there is no forgiveness,
On your knees pleading, screaming to a tyrant in the skies;
The father of lies.

I will never be enslaved in your superiority
The people agree: jaded of your false dichotomies.
Know: I will be whomever nature intends to be
Apollo and I will share our dreams,
and you will be forced to see
your failure!

I know who you are...
Readily the first to present your scars
Chained by some despot or mental czar
An emotional homunculus in your mind, behind bars
Reluctant to escape - even when proven fake
Your demented mind - depths no one will penetrate!
 
...And you see me suffering
Not caring of any casualties
Just as long you recieve your safeguard of sympathy
So very wary of the masses and their Anarchy; Liberious ways

Solipsist - Is there no one you can see?
Even if she was presented burning?
Solipsist - Is there no one you can believe?
Even if Sophia was screaming?
Solipsist - Know you have killed and abused me
Imprisoned in your own  personal reality 




Details | Blank verse | |

The Eye

The eye,a sign the 
unwise can't comprehend
  Forged from the world's 
origin,an 
illumination in darkened 
minds,for the 
enlightened ones like 
Leonardo da Vinci,Isaac 
Newton,John Milton....etc.
   The eye is a tree 
with many branches like 
Priory of Scion,Knight 
templars,I.O.G.T,United 
Nations,Masonic 
Lodge,Music industry, 
Politics,global economy, 
etc 
stretching beyond 
human imaginations-felt 
in all corners of earth.
  The world is clothed 
through wisdom from 
above.
   The eye,all seeing 
sign,an invincible 
emblem of power and 
riches to the lion hearted 
and loyal souls.
A seat of influence and 
fame.
  Creating the social order 
through men of power....
  Some see it as a 
curse,others a blessing.
  I feel it,the great eye is 
everywhere watching 
you!


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Crow


The ghostly town unfolds in air
harmonic drapes - his soul's bestow;
aright reveals the bird's despair
the cold winds blow upon the crow.

The mind ascribes to open sails
inside the mists, upon the waves,
on broken strings the mode avails,
the emptiness of skyward graves.

The ghostly town records crow's wrong
and then invents dimensions yon,
beyond birds' step the feasts belong
stars' open Halls invite and conn.

Denounced immures - upon the slopes
distrait his hope - ascends effused
disporting fate Atropos gropes,
emending those who reigns refused.

The ghostly town torn scopes imbues
inside the air will play and glow,
with colored lights and hearths' red hues,
those dreams that cling in falling snow.

And how beyond the lone bird flies
stars are beclouded from the slopes
symbolic largess rains from skies,
and laughs the crow at his own scopes.

© 04-14-2013, G. V., All Rights Reserved
( Iambic tetrameter form.)


Details | Rhyme | |

AUDIO VISUAL

AUDIO VISUAL
What is a fight without a cause? Is it just a hidden affair that has no voice? Only knowledge that cannot be divulged and when discussed, the topic is irrelevant. Mentality is a place of iniquity. Mediums are designed by civil engineers to place mentally captured vestibules; those, which will manifest identities. You can hear their mundaneness in their conversation. You do not want to speak to a naked wall. As a result, they enter your vocal environment. For that reason, you speak out. ___________________________________|
penned on october 24, 2014!


Details | Blank verse | |

Sea And Space

I see outer space
As the place
To retrace the roots
Of the human race.

I see under the sea
Is where our bodily
Cells first came to be.

Man's heart is in the stars,
Holding onto the dream to reach Mars.
Man's history,
Written in the stars as destiny.

I am but a child,
Born onto this planet turned wild.
I am but a soul
Sent here to alleviate the toll.

I see a sea of stars,
A healing ocean for our scars.
I see an empty crater
As void as our love for our Creator.

Man's fate has
Always been to create.
Man's destiny is to face
The sailing of the vastness of sea and space.


Details | Epic | |

Trilogy


She splendid came before the light of dawn,
Emerged from Halls of deep memoir's efface;
'Let me express my love in eyes and ways,
before death turns me back to granite stone.'

Embraced were we while the winds raced moaning,
our strings of lives joined outside of mute grief;
there was a hope left when the arcane Nymph
fled East, towards the first light of morning.
..............

Unvirtuous sons of metamorphosis,
vociferous assault - lives to degrade,
with cymbals' wrothly thump, my land invade,
drums' beat enacts my apotheosis.

They cut me thrice and once as I slaughter,
grotesque barbarians, that fight entranced;
I prayed to dawns' refulgent light; enhanced
their monstrous growls fly with a twilit bird.

Accented their trilogy - immoral,
from deep wounds - inferior weep their cries,
euphoric Spring forces them to baptize
in anaphoric flowing red to flora.
..............

She splendid came before the light of dawn,
Emerged from Halls of deep memoir's efface;
'Let me express my love in eyes and ways,
before death turns me back to granite stone.'

© G.V. 10-04-2012, All Rights Reserved


Details | Imagism | |

A Farmer's Eyes and a Sailor's Shadow

A thorough yield
On a farm field of far east
It took me time to realize
How far I am to my far east of coast

Call of my weather
Call of my winds
I sailed further and farther
To my naked coasts
Naive songs, Nimble rains
Nile of rivers, Nascent clouds

Reaching this far
I kissed my earth
Ground of my grief
Glory of my ghosts
Glad is those leaves
However scanty they are

Cast is my shadows
No longer they hide
My colors and my figures
They cast numbers on stars
Measure their light
Scope my winters
Scale my summers
Scanty my rains
Scuttle I wish my springs

Now let me see my greens
Their leveling heights
Their leafy gaze
Their spiderly gesture
Their primordial texture
Now let me be slow
In company of my greens

#Poem by +Gokul Alex


Details | Ghazal | |

Thunder

As houses shake people think of red, when comes thunder.
Safely in our rooms, on our warm beds, then comes thunder.

Will you sacrifice yourself for those that you love like
In those romantic stories you've read, when comes thunder?

Even the most sturdy of men will feel like brittle
Glass and sense vast approaching dread, when comes thunder.

Women will lite slender candles to illuminate
Their tattered bibles, their daily bread, when comes thunder.

As I write this I hear something familiar yet strange,
"You are not alone, Timothy" said the loud thunder.


Details | Haiku | |

The Less I Have

the less i have of
the additional use of
the more it breaks down


Details | Personification | |

Conium


With airy moves the thinker tried to gulp
one more full glass of the potent liquor,
'das zould bee iit', he said, in English calque,
'afta zis bottle I'll be a quitter'.

His mind analyzed why Socrates drunk,
instead of this pure nectar, conium,
He started writing knowing he would flunk,
and his pen's gems would be zirconium.

He drunk and gargled the eighty proof gold,
in his blurred vision Philipp Lenard laughed,
and Karl Max Plank's postulate did unfold
quantized integration calculus' craft.

He wondered if the philosopher's norm
that electromagnetic energy,
could solely emit in quantized form,
was the discovery of last century.

(You know in zis vorld ze gut schnapps is rare,
like slivovitz und aquavit und kirsch),
he read somewhere from drinks to be aware,
- 'Chain nuclear reactions' book of Frisch,

Outraged he saw the drink's surface descend,
with airy moves he called the liquor store,
Maxwell's equations started to blend,
through electrodynamics slept with snore.

© 02-09-2013, G. V., All Rights Reserved
(rhyme)
(a poem against excessive alcohol consumption)

Sponsor: Sheri Fresonke Harper
Contest: Personifying Science
Placement: 3rd


Details | Free verse | |

Conspiracy: Who Killed The Easter Bunny

A crowded table, all suspended in shock 
The sound of the shot dimming to a ‘knock’
Only silence, except for the marching clock
The weapon still smoking; an anonymous glock
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?

Loud cries arise from the elongated table,
Jack Frost is shocked, the Tooth Fairy unable
To speak whilst Santa is checking the stable
For clues on the erstwhile maidservant Mable
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?

They searched for hours, called in C.S.I,
Panic set in, would the children all cry?
Sandman confirmed the bunny had died
Batman suspected somebody had lied
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?

Guests were quizzed, interrogations began
The mystery unfolded when Santa Claus ran,
Grabbing the pies, he tried escaping in a van
But was stopped in his tracks by superman
SANTA KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY!


Details | Free verse | |

Cookies-Food For Thought

Cookies -
Why can’t I have the chocolate one
I want more
She took my cookie
Hers is bigger than mine
I want to trade
That’s not fair

Cookies +
Thank you for the cookie
I love you
Thanks for all you do for me
I am satisfied
This is good
I am loved
Written By  Deborah Finneran :)  2013


Details | Alliteration | |

a little ration

Heat my heart I hear a hero
this soul soothed, stilled, and silenced
golden, growth, gave me a guru
within, wild, waiting to whisper
I inclined, initiate impossible
imagine infinite isn't so infamous
IMHO SMH serves no justice
TKO LOL no need omega
delighted to deliver dharmic direction
self-appointed steward of selfless
practiced not perfect, positive portions
critical for compassionate connections
we, world, will win, with unity
culture continues to counter crosses
mediated meeting my middles merciful
If you think you know then answers pass by
not one mind built this vision
landmine lands filled with landfills
minus minding multiple menaces
covet care cause its a rare case
corporate ladder, or conscious staircase
choices chastised, for coursing courageous
caring contagious, counting on cowards
evils aired aren't left faceless
sights for sure are sore from wayside
be the change to see a day is seized
stay cold-hearted and this place will freeze


Details | Carpe Diem | |

CARPE DIEM

CARPE DIEM These struggles are not insurmountable. I am striving and thriving for more. The strife I am in put me on top of the world. Today I know people for who they are. However, all this is just preliminary. Foundation for me to excel from. I am going after my dreams. I will not be hinder by downward spiraling. I will seize the day. The discord of a country is political propaganda. It will cause friction and human mania. However, this is just a prerequisite to becoming a develop country. I see the dilemma of a nation living as one. I know that my niche has formed. I must sequester a destiny to conform the norms. The Lord has given me this transformation to perform. No bamboozling is allowed. I will seized the day because this is my time. |___________________________________________| Penned on November 01, 2014!


Details | Couplet | |

Rabbits

Always pulling rabbits 
From the bottom of my hat,
Always looking forwards,
Never looking back.
Like to keep you laughing,
Laughing through the night,
Keeps our broken hearts at bay,
Hidden from the light.

more of my poems at: http://labyrinthoflies.com


Details | Quatrain | |

WHAT IF I WERE ROBIN HOOD

What if I were Robin Hood
and Dave Wood was just a street name?
What if I were sick of an industry/kingdom
that's brought so much wealth and fame?
What if?

What if I got tired of fighting Prince John
just to have a bigger piece of the pie?
What if I long for more than Locksley
and in fact I'm more than meets the eye?
What if?

What if while you pen your next poem
you unknowingly hum a lyric I wrote?
What if I really needed a sabbatical
some time to clear this mind and throat?
What if?

What if the truth started leaking out
like warm tears from a broken heart?
What if here in the midst of Poetry Soup
I started feeling like I was a part?
What if?

What if I were dying inside to tell you
like a confession I really felt like I could? 
What if it wasn't about Sherwood Forest
all along it had been to save Robin Hood?
What if?

What if a simple poem contest for glory
brought more riches than all the bling?
What if I've fallen hard for sweet Marian
to reveal myself could ruin everything?
What if?

What if all my new friends I read everyday 
now feel closer than even Little John?
What if I decided to tell Will and Friar Tuck
no, not tonight but tomorrow at dawn?
What if?
What if?

Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Contest Name: Robin Hood
Date: 4-20-14
Form: Quatrain


Details | Free verse | |

Solidness of another kind

Imaginary equivocates 
Inquiring all along the states 
In a silenced unreal fullness of Time 
Necessity and Space, for a while 
Forever unconsciuous of her mind 
Inexistent demonstration of  her exile 
Our world, our dimension, our style 
Decided all in one only night 
Before the announced wreckship of mankind 
Unnatural and delight 
of our notes, dreams and lines  
 that were simple vovels of an infant cry 
Above the sheet of shyness 
And over the street of soleness 
The tremble of a while 
An electrified dumb image of dismay 
As it looks from behind 
It’s a simple algorithm 
But with no way to retourn back again 
For the eternal stage of fearless Fate 


Details | Verse | |

Memory Lane

We are Titanic, our past an iceberg; 
yet able to challenge the orbit of time.


Details | I do not know? | |

'Little bird, what troubles thee'

Little bird, what ails thee
      is it the bread in your belly
little bird, what troubles thee
      is it the bread of misery

is it the bitterness in your heart, 
     or the offense you can't forgive
is it the anguish that sets you apart, 
     or the hurt that holds you captive 
 
is it the cancer of bitter love, 
     or the loss of deserved affection 
is it the cruel withdrawal of 
     his tenderness and compassion 

life is much too brief
      and youthful love's even briefer still,
your forestalled relief 
      keeps you from seeing His eternal will

what befalls you 
      is neither unshared nor a mystery
God sheds tears for you
      in the midst of your painful agony

little bird, what ails thee
      is it the bread in your belly
little bird, what troubles thee
      is it the bane of misery


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: IV

God made all people
But some better than others?
Stop being silly.


Details | I do not know? | |

'Give me drink, rest, and solitude'

Give me drink, rest, and solitude--
these are all the things I long for.
Give me as well your finest food
and I'll ask of you, lass, no more!

My bonnie lass, what's the matter--
why are you all sorry and alone?
Don't be sad because you're fatter
than most, lass, for love loves its own.

Sweet lass, I'll tell you a secret.
If I were a young lad again,
I'd pursue you without regret!
But as I am three-score and ten

years old, indeed, I can never
be the youthful lad you most need.
But your pain won't be for ever:
for your heart will refuse to bleed.




Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

The Promise

When meanings have been broken,
When your cross has been uncrossed,
When the reasons that you gave me,
In the labyrinth have been lost.
When your house has been emptied,
When your bedroom is swept clean,
I will come and wake you,
From your long and endless dream.

more at http://labyrinthoflies.com


Details | Verse | |

Inevitable Bear

Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?

Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”


Details | I do not know? | |

My Wishes are Simple





My Wishes are Simple


My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.



My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.



My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.





Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

The Silent Lamb

The silent bell rings in the night,
Calling the devils to kneel to the light,
What once was, becomes no more,
As the light breaks through the open door.

What you think and what you feel,
What you saw and thought was real,
Is now only dust on the road,
The desolate remains of your ancient abode.

The new light is rising on the hill,
The new song is singing down in the well,
The new souls are dreaming of your face,
The new hearts are beating at you pace.

The old ideas and reasons you gave,
Are buried in the tomb and in the grave,
The rotting bone and flesh are gone,
In the morning dew, in the morning sun.

The light shines through the open door,
Casts no shadow on the old dirty floor,
The ancient laws of reason and might,
Crumble to dust in the morning light.

What once was real and certain as rock,
Is now the dream the baby forgot,
The new light coming to wake you my love,
The silent lamb and the flying dove.

more of my poems at :
http://labyrinthoflies.com


Details | Rhyme | |

The halo effect

If there is one thing I remember
It is what life told
Just open your eyes
All that glisters may not be gold
So who is to blame and whose fault I hold
The halo effect, the one in disguise
Manifesting deception in front of thy eyes
Treat one different because of their look
Why read? Judge the cover of the book?
But you do read others because they don’t have the look
If you understand, how long has it took?
The halo effect, we magnify a trait
Condone the flaws, we magnify a trait
Attractiveness, is this what you mean?
All this talk, my perception a feign?
What I see, aint what it seem?
Huh, thanks for this, as well as that.
The halo effect, my mind was hacked. 


Details | Haiku | |

Anatomy of Life

The philosopher has blades;
He wants to dissect
the body of life.


Details | Couplet | |

The prison of the keys

And now I've lost my papers,
My passport and my wife,
The very essence of
My identity and life.

My bank account is empty,
My cloths and garments sold,
My skin and bones are ashes,
Spread thin on the open road.

My old car's broken down,
No wheels to touch the floor,
The motor been dismantled,
Stripped clean down to the core.

The bailiffs and the policemen,
Have emptied my abode,
The promises I made you,
Have been auctioned out and sold.

The love I hold within me,
Is all that I now have left,
The rest is bleak illusion,
The bind man and the deaf.

The imaginary people ,
I thought were my friends,
Have left the scene forever,
As the road of life does bend.

And now I stand alone,
Upon this lonely hill,
I gaze upon the meanings,
The years have silently killed.

In the roaring storms of thunder,
In the lightning in the night,
In the whispering of the children,
In the white doves lonely flight.

In the dust of many ages,
That has settled on my soul,
In the ashes of my humanity,
That has filled my begging bowl.

The ancient breeze is blowing,
Calling me to my knees,
To behold the light within me,
In the prison of the keys.

more at http://labyrinthoflies.com


Details | Narrative | |

Coffee Shop v2

Prefece:
You're sitting alone at the bar of the coffee shop and you've got the usual.
black decaf latte, today's newspaper, and that pen that smears blue ink.
It’s the same every night, that's why you come back. Monotony is relief.
The only move you've made in what seems like hours was to refill your drink.



Coffee Shop:

You stare at the latte like you’re about to open a gift.
Lifting the cup high, your lips sip the heavy cream.
Tired eyes watch the frosted window and the drift
that carries the uninvited snow effortlessly past you.

The room behind you is burning loud with conversation;
The same arguments, theories, solutions
It's a sickness stuck in the same old rotation.
Like hopeless addicts, they fiend for absolution

There’s talk of Plato’s cave that shrouds enlightenment.
Others discuss Gandhi’s hidden path to the same effect.
They repeat wise men’s words in circles they invent,
leaving what’s more than a hint of ignorance to detect

The sun sets and you're blinded by a glare as you look to the skyline,
the light glows as it sits atop the trees; you look down with a sigh.
Through the window you catch the eyes of a battered man, the look of isolation and despair intertwined.
The man’s face, streaming with tears, tells a story of one too many goodbyes.

What difference does this man make, which he is or what he needs?
You’ve seen it all before; a different movie, the same old theme.
Plus, the tilt of his head and pain in his eyes speak for him of his own misdeeds
Your stare stays locked as you say out loud, “things are always what they seem.”

You have a heavy feeling bring a question that stays planted in your mind
You wonder now if you walk the very path that hollowed this man's eyes.
The thought turns into voices, the words they say are all entwined.
Getting louder now, the more you try to block them out, the more they intensify.


-Jackson Kilgrow
rantedtirades.blogspot.com


Details | Lyric | |

I am but a Vessel

I wish I were empty, 
I could easily be filled with that which is from God. 
Yet I have been filled with the things of this world.

Pour out my Self, 
fill me with the Spirit, 
the good gifts from God.

I am but a vessel,
that which enter me is that of which I am full.
I must fill myself with that which is from God,
I must surround myself with Him,
so He is that of which I am full.
Fill me up Lord.
For when I am full of You,
....of Your Love,
....of Your Word,
that is who I will be
....Your Love.

Fill me with Your Love Lord.
I will travel through this world,
I will not be swayed by worldly temptations. 

The more of You that lives in me
the more of You there is to fill this world.

Use my body as Your Vessel
to bring the world to You
....to Your Glory
....to Your Grace
....to Your Mercy
....and Your Love. 
Fill me, Lord, with Your Great Love.


Details | Lyric | |

The Coming of the Nothing

Collegiates and learned mercenaries
Await their time to lead the willing minions
As lemmings, suicide seems ordinary
Both deaf and blind, devoid of all opinions

Ageless as time itself, she waits
An elixir of evolution
Needing no cure, no answers
No humankind solution

What stops us moving forward
What keeps us all enchained
What keeps the starving hungry
What drives a world insane

A galaxy here, a universe there
Speckled by constellations
But man it seems is content to fight
For the sake of his small nation

Black as an empty starless night
Deep as the hungry ocean
Timeless as death, on its endless flight
In a time of perpetual motion

What stops us moving forward
What keeps us all enchained
What keeps the starving hungry
What drives a world insane 

When will it end, God only knows
As greed alone inspires us
Old Earth, its very soul exposed
To MAN...IT'S LIVING VIRUS!!!


Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part VI

Water licks your feet
Far cry from the beating sun
Desert sand to sea


Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part V

The English weather:
Rainclouds follow us from home
There is no escape.


Details | Abecedarian | |

POETS ON POETRY

Andre Gide, "Therefore" is a word the poet must ideally not know 
Bob Dylan, it’s not easy to define poetry – nothing over which to crow
Carl Sandburg, poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance 
David Carradine, if you cannot be a poet, be the poem and prance 
Edgar Allan Poe, poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words
Franz Grillparzer, prose talks and poetry sings, all in different chords
Gilbert K. Chesterton, all slang is metaphor; all metaphor is poetry – tinkers!  
Honore de Balzac, poems don’t survive, those written by water drinkers
Ian Hamilton Finlay, concrete poetry was a particular way of using language 
John Ruskin, to see clearly is poetry, prophecy and religion all in one usage
Khalil Gibran, poetry is a deal of joy and pain and wonder and a lexicon 
Lord Byron, Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven! Shine on!
Muriel Rukeyser, poetry sources are in the spirit seeking completeness     
Novalis, poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason – a bleakness 
Oscar Wilde, all bad poetry springs from genuine feeling (that opinion reeks!)
Plutarch, painting is silent poetry and poetry is painting that speaks 
Quintilian, we must form our minds by reading deep rather than wide
Robert Frost, poetry without rules is like a tennis match with a net aside
Samuel Johnson, poetry is the art of uniting pleasure with truth, the root  
T. S. Eliot, genuine, heartfelt poetry can communicate before it is understood 
Ulloor, one of the triumvirate poets of Kerala, South India; championing history
Voltaire, one merit of poetry: it says more and in fewer words than any story
William Hazlitt, poetry is all that is worth remembering in life and its forebodes
Xenophon, the sweetest of all sounds is praise and poetry sings the odes
Yevgeny  Yevtushenko, poetry is like a bird, it ignores all manmade frontiers  
Zona Gale, I don't know a better preparation for life than a love of poetry (no airs)

  


NOT FOR THE CONTEST ~ Su


Details | Ode | |

Bathsheba

The juggler moves his fingers fast, 
he likes to smile and to deceive, 
when people laugh at his recast, 
his goal's higher things to achieve, 
for Bathsheba applauds and laughs.

Her hands she claps with sullen glee, 
changed him to a marionette, 
that sprawls for her obediently, 
       jinxed tragicomical duette, 
       he jumps defeating gravity.

The juggler walks on tightened rope, 
St. Bernard will protect his act, 
frail equilibrium's postponed, 
he'll pass across, crows' croaks detract, 
agleam granite pavement's below.

Unmoved he laid, (lost souls misgive) , 
the juggler sprawled did not bemoan, 
the sawbones's charlatan and thief, 
as Bathsheba failed to dethrone, 
the clown's tangential unknown grief.

© G. V. 12/23/2012, All Rights Reserved
( Iambic tetrameter form.)


Details | Epic | |

My Temple Message

Space up your brain frame/
Flame up your main pace/
Dish up your thoughtful rhymes/
Blood out your soulful goals/
Scratch mark your tearful poems/
Dress up in your motherful tongues/
Spiting fatherland splits via ancestral grave-zones/  
Hang up your lyrical cloths/
Dope visions for lifeless poets/
Skin tones glorifying Lucifer's bones/
Convert brains its no animal stains/
Socks up your manhood pictures/
Wipe all your demonic tales/
Paint misfortunes of recital codes/
Drive through inspirational poems/
Prayers singing rap tones/
Dust of earth you are the Maker's breath/
Space up your brain space/
Kick start your waking up calls/
Shelf life records no political stones/
Fist up artistic roles/ 
Masculine verses exercising best prose/
Shaping Amandla when we strike blows/ 
Poetic armies baptized in the name of lost roads/
Flushed ish reflects case closed/


Details | I do not know? | |

The Tragedy of the Banished Revolutionaries

The Tragedy of the Banished Revolutionaries.

Epochs apart, yet,
bound by conscience,

Buddha, 
Jesus,
Moses,
Muhammad,
Ram.

Enduring the whispers of time,
through creeds professed,
sermons preached,
and a million sins confessed.

Though,

the essence,
of these banished revolutionaries,
is ceremonially muted by ritual,
and gleefully crushed under,
grandiose edifices,
that serve Religion Inc.

"And the meek shall inherit the earth",
an incendiary thought,
conveniently discarded,
for the pie in the sky that must be sought.

The tragedy of the banished revolutionaries,
stings.
stabs,
whispers still,
for us to hear,
through the din of the cacophony of prayer.

Buddha,
Jesus,
Moses,
Muhammad,
Ram.

The tragedy of the banished revolutionaries,
persists,
each day that we choose,
to shun the meek,
and mouth conscience-salving prayers,

for yet more silver,
and yet more silk.


Details | Rhyme | |

Values

hip hip hurrah, herc shot hera
sick sad era, tri city terror
dirty land lover, lips hit terra
karma bent over,  messenger error
never say neva, davin say better
no pain no gain, accept the rainy weather
paint a pic pretty , slip on slick cities
have a lot of lovers, none top sarah
no what im knowing, dont want a slow down
respect is expected, never threw a hoe down
zeus with an entourage, party never undersized
tities no mardi gras, let loose like karamazovs
other moment ostracized, flow never oxidize
freaky with an extra eye, good times multiply
mr go getter, killed the baby sitter
no one does it sicker, crazy cause I know I die

we gots to live, like this life is the last
we cant plan the future, no change for the past
im a make the most before my ghost has to crash
blast thru the basic come away with the cash

one trick pony, faulty cause its special
colts get bolted, stuck in their mental
yellin out mommy, darwin wasnt gentle
change for survival or b**** shut your dental
d*** headed central, quick wit essential
lifes experimental, body a holy temple
soul instrumental for flying to light levels
trying a tight bevel tieing a rhyme pretzel
spy verse spy verbal, try to size circles
circumsize virgos, turpentine turbo
egos in slow mo, vertigo a go go
ho ho flow curdled, tossed into inferno
my syllable allegro caused a bloody gurgle
my soliquoy symbols,  got my butt buddies hurtful
enemies closer choked till their purple
envy nocturnal to my bright concerto

we gots to live, like this life is the last
we cant plan the future, no change for the past
im a make the most before my ghost has to crash
blast thru the basic come away with the cash

four arm charmer, mystic in the making
awake no alarmer, physically shaking
visibly debating, if misery is waiting
shake till its fading, without hesitating
didi waits for no one, i happen to grow some
dropped as a we lad, learned by my lonesome
others had a helping, served me a surprise
no need to refy, interest past the demise
loan me a pice of mind, no need for a slice a pie
history wasn't lies, just under another guise
repition important, reputation not fortune
though I was fortunate, it was hard to notice horton
praise to the doctor, metaphors for healing
been a force with feeling, opens doors in ceilings
benefits appealing, to consumers when teething
people angry competing, without finding a meaning 

we gots to live, like this life is the last
we cant plan the future, no change for the past
im a make the most before my ghost has to crash
blast thru the basic come away with the cash


Details | Free verse | |

Salt Water

A thing so paradoxical desire;
So all encompassing it’s grasp;
A curse of eternal thirst- 
Though we are drowning.
Hands desperately scratching for a life raft
That is secretly made of the same water we drown in.
So we continue our daily floundering
Chasing a trail of crumbs we call “Hope”


Details | Verse | |

I'm sorry

I'm sorry for you, for all I DID mean to.
I'm sorry for truth yelling under the letters.
I'm sorry for gloom I used to be into.
I'm sorry for words that were ment to be better.

I'm sure you'll learn how to be optimistic,
and all of your sorrow will burst in a firework.
I'm sure you'll taste both the carrot and broomstick,
and critic with sarcasm will become a fair quirk.

I'm sure you'll manage to blow off the ceilings,
to do something wierd, worth to be accused of.
I hope that you'll learn to sort out the feelings
and born the new tenet out of the used stuff.

I want you to find something to govern.
I wish you object every slightest assurance.
I warn you to leave any secret uncovered
so it won't appear as nightmare to you once.

Be careful with matches, refuel the gaslight, 
extinguish the candle, let the night to mourn.
I'd say, single point to fear the Last fight:
to set Life aside until you'll have to moor.

8.04.2013
NikA


Details | I do not know? | |

For Bruce Springsteen

for bruce springsteen...


it was a rain-swept monsoon day

way back then, so many moons away

when i felt the music strumming in my veins

setting me free like a runaway horse without any reins

you sang of simple truths, 

your verse spoke to people just like me

in my lonely, wasted, and desolately quiet night

as you screamed out tragic human wrongs, and of everyone's plight

'bobby jean' spoke to me

of that girl down the street

glimpses of whom, we as innocents would furtively meet

and 'the river' that flowed through my ever-barren heart

led me down further roads of thunder

when slowly i finally learnt that the hardest part was fighting on

and never to surrender

to the hard-luck dreams that were born to run

while i danced in the dark 

with memories vivid and stark

even as i whined like that dog who for forever lost his howling bark

and then a 'human touch' came along

and 'better days' seemed real, not just words in a song

and still you sang and swayed and spoke straight into my unseeing eyes

as gardens of secrets were opened, and as your fist punched the skies

in an anger that i too felt and in whose cauldron i too burned

as we saw murder get incorporated, while on its wobbly axis, our fragile world apathetically turned

and then suddenly i was told that i was all grown up

working on a highway of scattered ideals

and absolving myself by sprinkling some coins in a waiting cup

well, after all these years of walking along so many a thorny road

with an armour of your verse covering me, even as i hear them taunt me and even as they continue to goad

but now i can feel myself fading away, into the bleakness of this coming night

just like the ghost of that old tom joad...


Details | Free verse | |

Her Final Words

"No." She whispered before drowning into her sorrows.
Her life had been a simple happy one. 
There were no pains and no troubles.
Life was life and people were people.
Life was simple.
and life was all about tomorrows.
Life didn't know about sorrows.
Her sorrows.
Those same sorrows that she drowned in never existed. 
They were never there, but where?
First to be sad in the naive town of joy.
Sorrow became contagious and what was known as happiness no longer was there.
It was non-exististent. 
A meager thought 
and a blessed memory.
She tried and tried.
She failed and failed.
Life was no longer hers.
For Pain was her only possession.
Her curse.
She lived and she died.
Yet, her legacy was passed on.
Never was it gone.
"No." She whispered before drowning in her sorrows, 
"Save them."


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Thoughts

Thought are only feelings too,
Thoughts that I think so often of you.

Feelings are my sensations within,
The mud and the rubbish,
The diamond ring.

Sensations are the messages you send to me,
A sword, a cross, an olive tree.

So many images flash through my mind,
So many feelings to which I am blind.

So many thoughts that I never dare think,
Like old dirty dishes in the kitchen sink.

Hidden away beneath the shit, 
The mud the blood and the rest of it.

Thoughts and feelings lost in the wind,
What really mattered is hidden within.

Within the noise, the laughing crowds,
Between the lines of a song sang loud.

A whispered caress, a gentle breeze,
A butterfly's wing, down on my knees.

Beneath the thoughts, behind the scene,
Under the feelings and what has never been.

Though the holes in time and space,
What is always forgotten, your long lost face.

Shining brightly for all to see,
It was never you, it was always me.

Always me down in this pit,
Thinking and fighting to make sense of it.

Always me blocking the way,
Blocking  the door to keep out the day.

Always me who had the last word,
Propping up, the blind and absurd.

Always me with something to say,
Thinking and feeling my life away.


Details | Verse | |

Distorted perception of reality


It's all about love,
All Madness, Pain and Misery.
But what makes it so rough
That hurts all stones so easilly?

Eternal question 'What?'
Which causes all the troubles.
But askless men are odd
Like stonish soap bubbles.

The topic is the least
Of what we're always worry.
The more important 'Beast'
Is how to feel no Sorry.

Emotions are obscure
for those, who are 'Successful'.
Much better: Ride the rules
Unless your life'll be stressful.

The point is to find 
The EmoLogic balance,
And here, if you don't mind,
I'll hide behing the valance.

It's up to each of us
Which road'll be taken,
But be sure not to trust
Those thoughts, which did just broke in.

                               15.08.2012.


Details | Verse | |

Leeroy von Nebulae

Leeroy von Nebulae y Pitter Patter Supernova

Upon the sparkling April field, where the bell-flowers blossomed,
two poets stood amid the blooms, two writers of their wisdom,
where singing aves exalted them, cause deep in verse have fathomed
and treated poetry like none, with loyalty and serfdom.

Meantime the birds were chirping in the leafage of the forest
the two composers synthesized the crop of thoughts that random
became their poetry's free verse, philosophy, thus, modest,
the scriptures called bankrupted talk and artlessness of flotsam.

The authors, thus, amid the trees, and vervains' purple colors,
narrated 'bout the pepper steaks and pizzas pepperoni,
the grayish donkeys and their bray, through softened words of candor
conducting hence this spectacle and joyous ceremony.

What was occurring round the two was godly sent, on purpose;
the softened breeze, the sunny morn, the singing of the birdies,
and furthermore their kindest verse that both believed was flawless,
- the soul's redemption stands upon the praising by the toadies.

Obtusely raising, slow but firm, their tilted thoughts euphoric
have driven both to fly above this natural assemblage,
hence joyful they enjoined the cause of logic anti-strophic,
amid the clouds envisioning a pizza-Heaven-cottage.

Leeroy von Nebulae y Pitter Patter Supernova
expressed their nothingness of verse, that donkeys then recited
and stood impassive 'mid the blooms, their thoughts a dull cadenza,
evaluated by the birds, that chirped their notes, astounded.

© 03-23-2014, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic decapentasyllabic verse)


Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part IV

Precipitation:
Culminates in a washout
Stuffed camels get soaked


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Sometimes

Sometimes there is silence,
Sometimes there are words,
Sometimes there is meaning,
Sometimes it's absurd.
Sometimes you are near me,
Sometimes you are far,
Sometimes there is darkness,
Sometimes guided by a star.
Sometimes we are up and 
Sometimes we are down,
Sometimes we are slaves,
That wear a holy crown.
Sometimes we are arrogant,
Sometimes we are proud,
Sometimes we are someone,
Lost in the faceless crowd.
Sometimes we are rich and 
Sometimes we are poor,
Sometimes we are angels,
Scratching at the door.
Sometimes I'm living and 
Sometimes I am dead,
Sometimes there is no thoughts
Turning in my head.
Sometimes looking forwards,
Sometimes looking back,
The circle still unbroken,
The train still on the track.
Sometimes we are caught and
Sometimes we are free,
But we always come back praying,
Under this olive tree.

more at http://labyrinthoflies.com


Details | Rhyme | |

Poetry

P) Power O) of E) effective M) mentality Seeing the external internally Imposed but there is a possibility Get you thinking constantly Spoken out with clarity Meaning it sincerely Increasing minds physically Teaching the mind eventually Sowing a lyrical tapestry With the power of the pen and pad it be The influence of God’s philosophy Balancing human hypocrisy Enriching hearts spiritually Spreading emotions evenly Sparking a forgotten memory Freeing prisoners emotionally By painting pictures vividly Always coming out visually Rhyming with a melody Wiping all misery Toning down insanity Showing everyone brightly And clearly This is poetry.


Details | I do not know? | |

Conviction

Innocents is purity, which evil preys.
To endure such beings may leave one in decay.
Anger and hate will fill your mind, weakness seeping down your spine.
Fear gives in, you can not breathe and can not stand.
Darkness overwhelming with the end at hand.

A reaper comes to collect your spirit.
But on this day you need not fear it. 
A helping hand he comes to give, he sees purity and light deep with in. 
Pick yourself up young lad and breathe deep, your life has meaning if you seek.
Your mind is poisoned and your heart frail. 
Stay steadfast your light will prevail.

Your conviction is strong, it never falters.
Take your pain and build alters.
Around your heart to ward off the dark.
Your almost there, protect your spark.
From the evil that dwells in your mind,
Leave it there and don't be blind.

Enjoy the beautiful things in life.
So you may better understand your strife.
For the road to glory is long and treacherous.
Do not fear because you are dangerous.
Armor thick forged in pain, spear of light leaving blood stains.

Do not fear the beast with in, control it and give it name.
Listen to the vibrations, now take aim.
He is your spear, your love is the light. 
Protect the innocent and fight.

Glory comes, but does not wait.
To seek it out is to seek my fate.
Innocents cries, evil feeds.
A spear of light is what I will be.
Piercing the darkness of evil deep,
Until glory comes so that I may sleep.


Details | Sijo | |

Amber

I look into the heart of the amber, exposed to all
A brief moment in the past, perfect as the day it was formed
Stale tears on cheeks carry the code of a life lived in full


Inspired by Debbie G's "Cling - Sijo


Details | Quatrain | |

Caterpillar Dreams

How long must I eat, gorge and be bloated?
How long will I be to destruction devoted?
How long shall I stay blind with eyes myriad?
How long do I wait for the onset of a new period?

Forever anticipate the dawn of a new creation
Salvation lies in a process of permutation
What was built must be torn down and broken
Out of its tomb elegance and grace will be woken

Till then I take all that this world can provide
For without them birth of the new will be denied
Till then for survival I fight, from predators I hide
And dream dreams of another life free and untied


Details | Romanticism | |

Prime Mover

Like the seraphs whose wings unfold,
Christ's light and glory goes not untold;
as the love of his humble grace
moves inside me all time and space,

as the planets orbit heaven's sun
and encircle it one by one--
so, too, am I caught in his sway,
beloved of him from day to day.

Through hosts of astral dimension
God's angels fix their attention
with expectancy and burning pause
amidst the universe's First Cause.

He, the one true Incarnation  
that begets cosmic causation,
resolves the Infinite Regress
from the pre-Socratics' egress

with his omniscient wisdom
and the archives of his kingdom
where all can come and read and know
what miracles he'll yet bestow.


Details | Free verse | |

To Be As A Leaf

To Be As A Leaf
By
Ingrid Showalter Swift

To be as leaf
…food and so fire for the flame 
of hearth and human souls

and to be leaf floating on the river of my ever days


Details | Verse | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Dessert in the Deserted Desert

Boiling, baking and blazing,
               Other synonyms for heat.
My camel is happily dazing,
	He was not a restful seat.
Poolside I’ll later be lazing,
	Resting my sunburnt feet.
Air conditioning is amazing,
               Ice cream is a lovely treat.


Details | Free verse | |

I'm Back

Hey, did you hear the sounds of a sorrowed heart
slowly thumping away in the evening sunsets?
There he is, baby, the man they call;
"The Blue Poet"
there he is in the flesh
with a book of poems in his hand,
look at the whores and the smiles turn to him
and say to him, "Where have you been?"
They look at him and he looks at us.
He sits at his desk,
he lits a cigarette and smokes.
He opens the big book of poetry that he had in his hand
and started to read.
There was a smile on his face,
reading to all of us;
as we sat around his greatness and glory
and we listened to his great poetry.
He looked at us through the dark
and with eyes a blazed and a smile so bright
he opened his mouth and out came the words of
a sorrowed heart and a master at his finest hour,
and he said in a calm voice;
"I'm Back, baby!"
And we all cheered,
and he smiled and drank his glass of red wine
and smoked his cigarette
He leaned back in his chair and watched us all
stand and cheer.
If you looked closely,
you could see a single tear form in his eye
and roll down his rough cheek.
The Blue Poet was back,
and this time he stayed.

-10/23/2013-

A dedication to myself. I am sorry to all my fellow fans and followers and poets and poetesses, I had left you all without a trace of ever returning, but now I am back and here to stay!


Details | I do not know? | |

Love Endures

Love floats by,


reaching,
tantalising,
meandering,


tip-toeing past pain,


leaping through walls,
weakening the barricades,


of the most private heart.



Love settles in,


trusting,
searching,
dissolving,


quietly beyond anguish,


erasing the desolation,
soothing a battered spirit,
enveloping the shivering soul.



Love stays, it is true,


love endures, as do you






Details | I do not know? | |

You and I



You and I.


You.

Your heart blazed,
with a warmth of spirit,

soothing,

alluring,

soaked in truth.



Your smile burned,
branding me permanently,

gentle,

tender,

enveloping my being.



Your love was complete,
from the depths of your soul,

unsaid,

yet fierce,

bathed in silent knowing.



Your dreams were poetic,
fluttering in the afternoon breeze,
infused with the distilled essence of rhyme.


I.

I squandered your generosity of spirit.

I vainly discarded your priceless poems.


Now I stand,

alone,

empty,

desolate,

wasting away,

rotting inside, day by day.




Details | Rhyme | |

The Bourgeois and the Spinning Wheel

In a room filled with a solitary red hue
The bourgeois spins a wheel
With no destination, nor need
She will spin until her brittle Hands bleed
Just to satisfy her ennui and artifice
But she does not see - the rien I see
The monster approaching her empty dreams

Spinning still - she does not know
The insomniac rose will begin to grow
The thorn of clandestine and ebony
Ostracized for he began to realize
What lies in nonsense is decadence
Which sparks interest
Who's lover is a dadaist
But his story is over now
As Seth lead the way
A poet dies in dismay

The thorn as she spun penetrated
A distraction and a lack of action
She knew the temptation for she so loved the sensation
Of crass, rebellious - ways 
The thought laid it's seed
In her Gaulish mind it breeds
She has no other need and no regrets
So she proceeds and the smile lets
With full intention and desire
Caring none of her fate that will transpire 
She presses her finger on the thorn 
So now she bleeds knowingly
she did not recede


Details | I do not know? | |

A Simple Wish

a simple wish...

no fancy words
no more clever rhymes
no more slickly crafted verse

just a simple wish
to cherish the moments
in-between the hue and cry of this life

no more the dull-edged jab
no more the anger and the strife

a simple wish
beyond the wasted hours and the days and the blurry fears

a simple wish
of a simpler life

after all the bitterness of the passing years

and so

to retire from the hustle
to flee from the hollow wasted breaths that have been breathed

to bid the emptiness farewell

while

ushering in the new tomorrow

bathed in the soft glow of hope

and kissing adieu to all the hurt and all the doleful sorrow...


Details | I do not know? | |

I Stand, Alone



I stand, alone.

Scratching for my truths,
peeling away the veneer,

I stand, alone, before this
impregnable cliff so sheer.

Cocooned in my solitary shell,
wrenching a smile from a tear,

I stand, alone, a little odd,
and definitely quite queer.

I stand, alone.


Details | Free verse | |

Winter Winds

Winter winds blow all around. 
I’m astonished by the sounds of Jingle Bells and reindeer stomps. 
All of this should never stop. 
Snow lies on the ground, if only that weren't too profound. 
Time only leads to decay, but not on Christmas, not today. 
You should see the angels pray. 
Toy trains, and rag dolls are the things kids used to want. 
But time has changed, yes so have children… 
Santa seems as if a villain. 
So much fighting, so much crying, it sounds as if the kids are dying. 
“I want money, I want fame, and these toys are just so lame.” 
But that’s the product we provided. 
Second chances are no more, Santa’s plot we wait for. 
He’s sick of this, he doesn't care, it’s as if he’s not wanted here. 
He gets ready to take it all back…. 
WAIT! 
There’s still one toy left in his sack, it’s for a little girl, half a world away. 
Now how could he have missed this, on the perfect Christmas day? 
He turns around, not time for war. 
This toy, the girl is waiting for… It’s not a toy like you’d expect. 
She didn't ask for electronics, or stupid games such as Sonic. 
She just wanted one small thing… 
She’s waiting for something EXTRA special this gloomy day. 
In a bed she sits and stares, at the window near a chair. 
She’s so weak, and all alone. 
She doesn't even have a real home, not where there are bright lights anyways. 
They've decorated a weeping willow, the only tree around the “home”. 
So she has lights to see. 
It’s Christmas after all, but there’s no way to calm the raging sea. 
She’s dying, it won’t take much longer, and she doesn't care about the tree. 
She needs a new heart extra bad. 
So, Santa’s bringing her the one thing, that will stop her parents from being sad. 
He rushes to the hospital in his golden sleigh, and climbs right down the vent, 
He’s saving Christmas today. 
Santa rushes in just in time, finds a doctor, the girl is dying. 
It’s not what he usually does, but he stays and watches as they save her life. 
He waits for her to wake up. 
“Santa, you saved my life, oh thank you so much! I needed my heart to be touched.” 
He just smiles, and kisses her hand. He’s so glad he didn't destroy the land. 
Christmas is still a special day. 
There’s no more sorrow, no, not today. Santa smiles though some are still ungrateful. 
There’s that one child, standing in the snow, her life can now be started in the evening glow. That’s life for the grateful, loving, caring, and the thankful. Most of the time Santa just gives toys. For all the good girls and boys. But not today, and not tomorrow, once a year he gets rid of sorrow. So sleep tight and say your prayers, Christmas time is but once a year.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Signs

The signs are here, for all to see,
The thunder clouds, the dying tree.
The shining lights, that draw you near,
Loud heavy music, in your ear.

By word of mouth, or through cyber space,
The hidden pictures, of your face,
The northern lights, are dancing south,
The rumours you hear, by word of mouth.

The sign are falling, from the sky,
Raining stars, on the passers by,
While the battle rages, on underground,
The innocent dying, without a sound.

The cries of heaven, the screams in hell,
That no one hears, down in this well,
The terrible beauty, the open wound,
The innocent babies, in open tombs.
For all to see, for all to hear,
The blind man's painting, the deaf man's ear.

The birds are falling, the fishes drowned,
What once was up, has now become down,
The tender and loving, an empty shell,
The gross and the ugly, now the rallying bell.

The signs are here, for all to see,
Titanic sinking, on a blood red sea.

More poems at http://labyrinthoflies.com


Details | Free verse | |

Humble Words

thoughts of crowing joy
 in body the soul, 
but wait there's more... 
pasting of measure, feet taping, 
but yet sapping, on the 
there of sapping, hungry of just not knowing
that is the word of being humble...
the mystery of blending the
squrriel nut tree at the 
top of the fountain as 
thought it may seem, 
of resureing 
that living has fall within
my thought to know to be humble...
words to be humble


Details | Lyric | |

Exist in Dreams

A dream that dances in waves, and mirrors all you do
So you dance, and hope that some day the song will come from you
This dream is all that exists, and all you’ve ever known
The song is picking up speed, so it’s follow or fail alone

A flame that flickers in sync with the shadows by your side
The rain puts out the light, and causes you to hide
This nightmare is all that exists, and all you’ve ever known
But this song still hasn’t stopped, and so you dance alone

You cherish sand on the banks of a path winding through a storm
This desert trail is all that you see; too blinding to look beyond
This path is all that exists, and the only way to go
Holding close the sand as you sing, just so you’re not alone

The sand is part of the storm that makes you close your eyes
But now the wind starts to slow, and the scenery makes you cry
This life is all that exists, and the only way to go
The sand falls through your hands, and you carry on alone

A love that blooms into being beneath the darkest skies
Is a life that will venture out despite the lonely nights
So scared, but so unafraid to find what you need to be
Despite the fear that prevails, and tells you what to see

The flames steady and still, and a shadow kneeling down
The rain cleansing your heart as all your fears drown
The sand creating a path, and shielding you from pain
And now, with the wind at your back, you remember why you came

To dream a light shining out for all the world to see
To be more than you think, and beyond all that will be
To create a desire to be the creators of our dreams
To become the mirror of self, and reflect our unity


Details | Free verse | |

Secrets

Secrets are like hidden treasure
waiting to be discovered
Like the forbidden fruit
waiting to be plucked
Like a veil of lies
covering the face of truth
Like the darkness of ignorance 
overshadowing the bright light of wisdom
Written by Keith Edward Baucum
aka The Green Poet aka The Brown 
Philosopher


Details | Free verse | |

GROWING UP

On the empty floors I am watching the nights roll
flowing in other nights.
Nature's mirror has come to give birth and to destroy
the typhoons are embracing me, an unstoppable power
in my two arms.
Between logic and the holy the notions are lost
I am turning blue inside the sky's blue.
And I return again and again to repay the same sin
upon which my own blood has dropped
and with blood I try for centuries to pay.
My form is drawing circles
-what is your name?-my name is Human.
Can this mortality embrace the darkness?
Can my bare hands hold within them the air?
I was born for the renaissance of colours,
I threw green and yellow at the edge of the horizon,
I painted red the lost dreams of history
and I placed white on all the spots of the sky.
I was born to destroy and I dig pits everyday,
I bury inside them living truths and I cover them with shovel and water.
Be quiet! The seasons are sleeping...
With small knives I carve the corners of the world
until I find the bone to puncture it, deeper and deeper.
Our fears are breaks of the Universe
they are transfered from planet to planet,
they change orbit, while cleaving the clouds.
''Learn how to walk, learn how to talk, learn how to kiss, learn how to leave, learn how to love, learn how to kill"...
Hollow bodies at the mountains top are burning with the flames of redemption.
They carry the same rock everyday, everynight until they reach the end,
the end that doesn't exist.
They fill the glasses with water, the glasses that dont have bottom.
Don't ask me to change the world, you only gave me soil but you have forgotten the water
and with hands dry and dirty I collect time to repay you
for your graces, because there is light and there is darkness, because I stop in front of red and I walk in front of green.
But you don't know, you don't, that I find strenght everyday, since I opened my eyes,
I am preparing in silence and I am clentcing my teeth
because the time will come, when I will throw a big punch at this carton world,
I will tear it up in half and I will see what lies behind,
behind the lie.
Shaken off from my dirty morality
I will touch the sacred redemption
I will wake up from the dream,
I will embrace at last, for the first time, reality.


Details | Verse | |

a power struggle

the quay is where he sat.
     deep in thought, he speaks out.
     “my money is my clout.”
he rise and walks.

     the quayside beacons him.
the pelicans he hears.
     he ponders his past years.
the muse was sent.

     his journey to pier lands;
     he sits to disembark.
the singing of the larks
brings deep thinking.
__________________|
PENNED ON JULY 08, 2014!


Details | Free verse | |

The blood you were given

Never throw punches at the rain,
don’t doubt the pain of the sane,
nor the deranged.
 
Never toss change into a fountain,
and hope for a wish that you haven’t 
earned just because you have a 
nickel to spare.
 
Never dream without company,
lies are most easily revealed with
another set of eyes.
 
Never rise out of bed,
without thinking of the consequences
of getting out of your own head.
 
Don’t fret about the chaos,
let it flow past your bones
and sizzle at your feet.
 
You are alive,
now prove it to the world
before you become a memory.
 
Make sure that you raged,
that you were boundless.
 
Become not just a memory;
become a living legacy.
 
This is your story.
 
Write it in the blood 
you were given.
 
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved.


Details | Free verse | |

Secrets

Secrets are like hidden treasure
waiting to be discovered
Like the forbidden fruit
waiting to be plucked
Like a veil of lies
covering the face of truth
Like the darkness of ignorance
overshadowing the bright light of wisdom
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka
The Brown Philosopher aka The Green 
Poet


Details | I do not know? | |

A Chipped Heart

A Chipped Heart...


Dreaming, my heart brittle as glass,
my solitary facade a pitiful farce,

shards tearing out of my skin,
seeking release, from cages within,

I am lost, in the dream,
bellowing out a silent scream,

torn from reality, drowning in the now,
yet I refuse,
I refuse to succumb,

I refuse to bow.



My chipped heart, may be wounded,
wreathed in pain,

still,

I believe, love, truth, belonging,

will take my hand,

again...


Details | I do not know? | |

She

She

She smiled, gently,
her warmth infusing me,
with a serene stillness of time.

She settled, slowly,
in my waking thoughts,
a soothing balm of simple joy.

She remains, scribbled,
on the walls of my fractured heart,
memories of happiness that once breathed...



Details | I do not know? | |

Illegitimi non Carborundum

Illegitimi non carborundum ;-)


...Staggering, my vision cloudy,


I fall to the hard ground.


when life’s sharp left-jab leaves my face bloody,


and all that surrounds me, is the desolation of loss I feel all around.



I see myself slipping,

down the abyss to where nothingness exists,


still, I cling on, groping for a foothold,

for my will to stay persists.



I clamber up, I stand my ground, though battered and bruised I may be,


my curtain is not falling yet, I have some fight still left in me.



It is then, in the pit of despair, when all seems bleak and painful and dull,


I summon the strength from deep within,


I rise, slowly, to face the day,


I refuse to sink,

to wallow, to surrender, to throw in the towel,


to drown,


for I am stronger now,


indeed I am, after all the years, and all the battles,


I stand, bruised and bloody,


still,


I stand,


I refuse, to sink, to drown,


for they can try, to punish me some more,


but I shall not allow them to grind me down…


;-)


Details | I do not know? | |

Passion in D-Major

Passion in D-Major


Feeling, the sensuous brush-
strokes on a canvas,

swirling,

to a symphonic crescendo,

of our shared heartbeats,

fading between the notes,

feeling your soft body entwined 
with mine,

your form bathed in my infinite 
kisses,

our orchestral desire rising,

conducting a shared fusing of 
passion,

... the music echoing ...

over the precipice,

on the brink of dazzling rainbow 
hues,

lost in the void,
of an eternal instant,

plunging through the depths of 
rhyme,

pleading,
forever pleading,

for a prolonged,

bouquet of shared time.


Details | Prose | |

Old Shoes Record The Road Of Life

Life’s road is never straight;
instead the directions senseless;
a twisting, turning labyrinth 
of adventures and challenges.
It wears down the spirit, 
more than the shoes.

Dangers faced with support, 
can breed courage.
The road walked alone, 
can harden the mildest soul; 
building an unbreakable wall.

The façade worn is often mis-interpreted, 
but the shoes reveal every challenge and hardship.
All of the masks we wear; 
cannot hide the life history, 
written in our shoes.  
Like the lines in the face; 
old shoes fill in the blanks,
left after we don, yet another, façade.

Old shoes are the portraits,
of our  journey in life.
Don’t throw them away;
put them on display
and they’ll keep you humble.
One should never forget,
where they’ve been.
It’s in the forgetting, 
that we fail ourselves.
Contemplate where you’ve been,
to decide the next turn,
you must make.


Details | Rhyme | |

Our politicians

Our Politicians
They speak like politicians
And hold a great ambition.
They think they are right
And same speech they recite.
They always gather for a bite
Deciding who should start the fight.
All have their own stations
To be the victims of cremation.
They gather their own crowd
Who cheer and clap to any sound.
They think they are right
Only here for a bite.
They speak like Aristo
And act like Montecristo!
They smoke big cigars
And all drive tinted cars.
They dress in glitter
And all have Twitter.
They act so polite
But hardly can write.
Always in action
Only during the election.
To make a collection
Or a connection.
O What a time you feel like 
Committing a crime.

For a brief background about this poem, pls, read the poem (Beirut).


Details | Free verse | |

Window

In one corner of my room,
That is shaped like a tomb,
There is a window, where I sit
And see my world through it.

I see the rising sun,
I see the melting dew,
I see the blooming flowers,
I see the sky’s changing hues.

Through it
I embrace the fading sun,
I live the joyous rains,
I feel the flowery fragrance,
I walk those lonely ways.

Through it
I float with the summer clouds,
I breathe the winter breeze,
I touch the autumn leaves,
I celebrate the cuckoo’s springtime songs.

Through the window,
I see my world.
Neither the autumn leaves,
Nor the springtime songs;
Neither the winter sunshine,
Nor the summer rains;
Would have been great
Had it not been through my window rails.

Through my window,
I see the world.
In the window, lies the entire bliss;
Beyond the window is only an illusion.

Suyash Saxena


Details | Rhyme | |

Naked

Only you
Only me
All bared out
Nervous
And shaking
Mouth is a drought 
Between a rock
And a hard place
Back against the wall
Not covered
Not clothed
We see it all
The distance
The thin line
It's not there
Your secrets
My secrets
It's time to share
No um's
No but's
Right here's the proof
No lies 
To hide behind
Only the naked truth


Details | Free verse | |

Persona

We all wear a mask
No matter how we shape or mold it
It stays the same way even with a slight change
For the mask is a part of us
Just as we are part of the mask

When we hide a hidden side
Deep within our hearts
It becomes a shadow
Something we try to deny
Something to forget

But it always comes back to haunt us
Trying to engulf us in its darkness
To show others what their really like
As they keep denying it gets stronger
Shifting and molding into something terrifying

The shadow becomes a beast
A monster of our dark side
Because we've denied it
For thinking it isn't a part of us
But it is a part of us
Like we are a part of it

The only way to combat it
Is to accept it as it is
For that shadow is you
You are the shadow
Your persona that is in your heart

Don't be afraid
Just face it
Show no fear
Accept it

The shadow is you
You are the shadow
You wear the mask
Wearing the mark
On your heart

Once you accept it
It becomes a great ally
A powerful persona
Right by your side
Always there to help you
When things get tough

Most important of all
Never forget the friends
That help you through
The hard times you face
For they will help you

They are the light in your darkness
A shining glow at the end of the tunnel
A hand extended out to grab you
If you are to fall 
They will be there for you

We must learn to accept ourselves
For who we are
Hiding our other selves
Will just make problems grow

Just be yourself
Be proud of who you are
As you wear the mask
Keeping your head up
With full confidence

Your persona is a special one
Never forget that
It is your ally
Your friend
Your other half

Your shadow
Most of all
Your mask
Its your persona
Be proud of it
As it is proud of you
To accept it as it is


Details | I do not know? | |

Port of Call

Port of Call


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

with the breath of the ocean a caressing balm,
soothing pained memories away,
to the swaying of a solitary palm.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

feeling the brushing away of all past turmoil,
on a quest for solace, ever so hard to find,
yet comforted by the crashing of the waves,
as the tide cleanses all pain,
and leaves despair far, far behind.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

drenched in a sea-breeze of mist,
that hushes the ache of bygone moons,
tasting the salty tang on my lips,
as the burnished sun,
over the distant horizon,
swoons,

and dips.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

searching, ever searching,
for a slice of solitude,
as memory bids a final adieu,
reaching under the sea so vast,
and seeking comfort in the depths,
while embracing,
the tomorrows to come,
wishing that they be true.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

seeing my truths drown,
as they slip beneath the turquoise waters,

feeling my heart ablaze,
with a passion that rarely falters.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

yet knowing that I am home at long last,
wishing the waves would wash away,
the defences that once stood,
like an impregnable wall.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

I have found, at long last,

my final port of call.


Details | Verse | |

Burnt Verse: The Desert Dance

New crumbled men shift sleeping ash along the wretched Nile, While tongues of Gods once worshipped fast and glory in their bile. Their textured sand speaks ancient text of terraced tombs below, But the desert dance continues on to ruin what doth grow.


Details | Verse | |

Ferris wheel


Days through days.
  Fire in snow.
Someone says:
  'Ground - below'

Hard to find
  Sense to live,
But pulse in mind:
  'Chance to give'

Grow the Soul,
  Ruin the maps.
Heart is bowl
  Full of traps.

Greatest thing 
  Ever learned:
Since you blink
  Path - returned.

              6.08.2012
                     NikA


Details | I do not know? | |

For Bob Dylan

Ramblin' Bob Dylan Blues
(For Bob Dylan)



Why does the sun dry up so many scattered tears

slipping down the coarse cheek of a million hushed fears

where no one is scalded though the searing fog clears

while prayers are mutely spoken even as the end nears

We shatter and scrape on demented knees

Blindly begging for mercy as it silently flees

Searching listlessly for salvation drowned in the breeze

That spits at the soft rose suffocated by a wheeze


I know now what I need never have known

Of hope that was trampled before it had flown

Into a wasted sky filled with hate that could drown

The giggling of the crowd and the crying of the clown


A hope so fragile that its wings were of brittle glass

Ripping the veneer off the sewers of class

Twisting the fabric of the weighed and costed mass

Who numbly waited hoping that it too may pass


For when shards of that hope in all hearts scurries away

To a darkness where crowded night is emptied off the heaving tray

'Tis then when sewn eyes shall behold that doleful day

When all shall tear at each other while on demented knees we still shall pray


For a lifting of the veil of that wilful deceit

That's wrapped up in a flag swollen with conceit

While the limbs splinter in the claw of a winner's defeat

Yet still the drums roll for the ill-fated souls chose never to retreat


From that drenched battle-ground where blood flows through a sieve

And love's lost song plaintively begs for a reprieve

From eternal loss which into raw emotion does cleave

Only to slip through the fingers and like grains of sand, leave.


Details | Free verse | |

feelin good feelin hot

Eyes to the sand,
         an inch away
wind catches my back 
as the seagulls soar,

a saucer through 
the blue
diving in and out 

trash is blown,
leaving its will to 
stay with ground

soar trash soar

as I lay sturdy
with palms
down


Details | Verse | |

The Metaphor I Dream




                    This metaphor breathes
                    when I awaken
                    to a dull, gray morning
                    and the chill of a draft.
                    The colors of my dreams stir
                    behind the visions I see
                    while I shower and dress
                    to face duties of the day.
                    My meditation is of breath,
                    inhalations and exhalations of life
                    from all parts of me
                    and all who I am.
                    I stir to past love
                    but still a part of me,
                    the gentle, soulful whispers
                    of memory.
                    I am all who I am,
                    timeless incarnations
                    given another day.


Details | Verse | |

Caution


You'll cry a pond or the ocean,
but who will care?
The one and only, plucky motion
I should've dare.

It's really hard to recover 
from the fever.
'In any case don't let it govern
the gravity lever!'
I'd been taught. It all ended
in conflagration.
Beside the grave knees were bended
in consolation.

I should've learnt: what's born
in flames and fireworks -
a deadly curse, poisoned thorn,
epitaph of forewords.

But noone care, except, maybe,
hysteric loner,
who'd lost the key for the abbey
inside the manor
belonged to misery and tears, 
steady dejection.

I'm glad to face only peers 
in foes' reflection.
I'm glad to thank you for Nothing
which can't be bare,
for that thrown rocks which had roughen
mine soft nightmare.

I'm glad to say, lucky you, 
I'll overcome this..
Although, you know, to tell the truth,
I hope, I won't miss
this perfect script in the clouds,
swing in the garden...
I want to say, at least, wanted... 

I beg you pardon.

{
I love you. 
Pardon.
}

18.03.2013
NikA


Details | Lyric | |

Alchemical Summoner

An alchemist in history’s tome
My past a tale of creating my own
My energy spent on the pain
I conjured forth from living in shame

A creature came, riddled with hate
The sun would burn his delicate face
I summoned him from darkest depths
A symbol of the loss that I kept

He stared at me, all smiles and rage
Creeping through the shadows at day
At night we spoke in whispered tones
The death I sought had invaded my home

The world I feared no longer held weight
When compared to this monster’s hate
He speaks his mind and I come undone
His twisted plans could bury the sun

He knew so well, the pain that I’d seen
He multiplied each loss ‘til I screamed
But still I learned, and I was in charge
Despite his tricks and these alchemical scars

Now here I am, standing in love
For all his hate, he still holds me up
In quiet pause I learned his name
In knowing truth, our demons are tamed


Details | Free verse | |

Slicing An Apple

1.
for the smoothness is gone
only now,  do i detect
 stone too cool
for the ends of the fingers.

2.
often my watch 
seemed broken unable to keep time
i smile now
for  i will never be on time.

 3
i use to watch time
with roman numerals
but know time watches me
so i see myself
walk by backwards.


4.
as words disperse from a old dictionary
the pages
all have the same chapters .
but  new characters grow on the branches
as the stars 
swim where the leaves
 of knowledge  cannot touch.

5.
now is the time
for touching the lips are plump
with temptation
but poems still taste of ink.

6.
fruit with seeds
in the inner chambers
the metaphor that hides inside
that will reproduce
other symbols
as i cut  it into segments of slices
for somewhere a teacher waits...


Details | Rhyme | |

The Door

The door locked shut is a metaphor
My mind locked shut is like that door
Unable to open up no more
My mind is shut, can not explore
The possibilities through that door
Are closed to me unless I claw
Back to my life, reality
And open the lock with my mind key


Details | I do not know? | |

The Seeds of Acceptable Hate

The Seeds of Acceptable Hate


Between the folds of faith and belief, 

tucked neatly in cushioned corners, 

lie the seeds of acceptable hate.



Through quaint pleasant rituals, 

and joyously hummed words, 

dumbed down thoughts

and dazed faces exude, 

righteous sweetness.



Belief wrapped in glistening foil, 

faith painted in gaudy colours, 

concealing the murmurs of hate, 

of embraced intolerance, 

and welcomed bigotry.



The seeds of acceptable hate flourish in damp fungal minds, 

as indifference flowers into the silence of frozen apathy, 

with blooming petals of finely measured howls of rage.



All the while the ever smiling faces beam with deep pride, 

drenched in all the pious tears they've cried.



And so it is that the viral seeds of acceptable hate 

thrive among the genteel folk that quietly gaze, 

in silence at the slow creeping of the horror.



As more seeds of hate are sown with manic zeal, 

and in the shrieking of this cowardly silence, 

the seeds of acceptable hate, 

continue to thrive, 

and to germinate.


Details | Free verse | |

Mortality

(This piece was published in Shot Glass Journal, by Muse-Pie Press, Issue #13)



Mortality


It is like an ocean wave that is alive in one moment,
then it becomes part of the ocean the next moment;
the wave is unable to be alive for eternity. The wave only exists
in photos, but not in the next few minutes……


Details | I do not know? | |

The Tears of the Clown


The Tears of the Clown


A veil of smiles,
worn effortlessly.

Tuning out the blurring din,
alone in the cackling throng,

never hoping to belong,
though pining to fit-in.


Peeling off the thin facade,
feeling the pained charade,
melting into the dim parade.


Trickling effortlessly down,
over the strained contours,

of a spurious laugh,

the tears of the clown,

rehearsed, rehashed,

form an unending cold stream,
dissolving the lingering traces,

of this simple boy's dream



Details | I do not know? | |

with thanks to Don Henley

with thanks to Don Henley...

...an echo of her laugh

whispers past

a simple joy, a gentle breeze

of quiet reflection that can never last

the fleeting innocence once drifting along

then disappearing into the notes of that Don Henley song

the end, he sang, of the innocence once felt

of days and of nights of serene peace

gone forever now, 

for into the night's void everything must eventually melt

though the memories and the thoughts 

and the echoes of her whispers

settled this gypsy heart, putting it at ease

but that's all long gone now

even though the echoes of her whispers

seem never to cease...


Details | Blank verse | |

The Green Poet, Red Seven, The Brown Philosopher

The Green Poet, Red Seven, and The 
Brown 
Philosopher
is the poetic names and aka's for Keith 
Edward Baucum I am no longer The Poetic 
Philosopher
Written by Keith Edward Baucum


Details | Blank verse | |

Computational people

People in the history
Make a different story
People in the country
They are called mystery

A gradual change happened
Living beings of not pulsated 
Life is a struggle of extended
Without stick of blind folded

Having captured a snapshot a profile
Perambulate like aimless animal
Aggregate and run for the life of final
Become a destitute in elite dark tunnel 

Someone wants to halt and to look around
To see the motion of world everyday around
To make a concrete direction forward
How it is mad to judge people mind

Udaya R. Tennakoon




  


Details | Verse | |

Windmills of the Mind


Over the days I've been, mile after mile,
Wandering over the path of exile,
Singing that songs, that are cursed for the trial,
Whispering your damned name.
Headed, survived the most terrible fail,
Still to the light of the entity. Pale,
Weak and distressed, I'm forever in scale,
Tied to self-blamable frame.

Greetings to everyone, faced on the road,
Are sent with a slight reminder of owed.
I am still writing the shrift to the Toad,
Hoping for doing the best.
Wishing a drowsiness, gained as a gift,
Praying for foolishness - happiness's lift,
Searching for truth, which enables to shift,
Locking, like cage, my thrilled chest. 

Drowning in miracles, daydreams and fears,
My throat refused to swallow the tears,
Strictly forbidden in the inner spheres:
Not to let mercy break out.
But this is it, and the major it's aim:
To let you know before you start to blame
Me, crazy mind or my doubtful fame
For saying all this aloud.

                          8.12.2012.


Details | Free verse | |

Illusions of Dreams

They say that life
is a metaphor of the spirit
and that time is a construct
that we all believe in,
as the world we perceive in.
Chance, circumstance
is the dance we play
on the first stage of destiny
where history
reforms itself to our liking
spiking the elixir of youth
with truth.
Matter meets form
in the dark spaces between
where fate is seen
as a well marked trail of tears
denoting the hopes and fears
of the ancestors making.
The past
is forever taking
from the now.
What we allow
becomes achievable
believable
a transformation
of creation
for all our relation
shapeshifting
sand sifting
uplifting
future gifting
an open door....
we are the ones we’ve been waiting for.

We can live the illusion
or we live the dream.


Details | Free verse | |

Modus Ponens in Love

If Penelope
then Quirine.
Quirine
is dead.
Penelope;
I will love
for fear of being
illogical.


Details | Couplet | |

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN ATMOSPHERE

I am a party animal, my heritage is mixed
quite content to lounge about when conditions remain fixed. 

Suppose that’s the nobility which Krypton must provide,
maintaining stiff upper lip when I’m all buzzed inside.

Then too, I’m mostly nitrogen, which is very stable, 
tamping volatility of oxygen: it’s able

to combine with hydrogen (that’s also in my make up).
Uncontrolled? Oh that would lead to an explosive break up.

Carbon Dioxide? Its percentage varies night and day:
vegetative respiration, or so the boffins say.

I wonder why I don’t glow multicoloured in a storm:
my neon, argon, radon being Vegas lighting norm.

If I had more Helium the humans would sound squeaky.
I imagine the attraction of that chap Enrique

Would suffer greatly from affliction. He’d become mundane,
and prove downright offensive if I gave him more methane.

I’ve also Nitrogen Oxide, not Nitrous NO2, 
and a soupçon of ozone which had once protected you

from harmful rays from Out There much more than now is measured.
It seems that humans cannot see what really should be treasured.

I’m moved by friction of the Earth and pressure off the bat
while Coriolis effect pushes me this way and that:

north and south of the equator, the opposite I spin.
Any other speculations, my friends, are simply wind.


Details | Couplet | |

The Wayward Pilgrim

Wayward pilgrims scattered and lost
Frightened beings, low on rations, slowed by frost

Searching for the holy land they wandered astray
Despite prayers for help, they can't but doubt that they'll see another day

They left with so much zeal and hope, so much faith
They felt passion and mirth, they were convinced the lord would keep them safe

They no longer know where they are and the path to travel
Their spirits are tested, their sanity slowly begins to unravel

Some are lost to the thought that God is everything, nothing else exists
Others give in to base survival instincts as it becomes harder to resist

Crisis of the faithful, the beautiful and the damned
It's the answer to challenge that truly reveals every woman and man


Details | I do not know? | |

Observation

"When a self- centered animal cries it's considered weakness, 
which necessarily isn't a bad thing .However, 
when a  soulful animal cries it's considered strength , which necessarily isn't a good thing. For the latter, Its like the stars in relation to the universe. They  have witnessed the past present and future based on the weight of the ocean and the constant reminder of ones infinite sympathy and empathy"


Details | Rhyme | |

Organs

Under azure Italian sky of Balkans 
The mage plays huge church organs
The force that his music brightens
Is reflected in eyes of falcons

The elements including spirit are at the base
And with this spirit you can see God’s face
Above spirit multiple destinies occupy next space
They are one of elements of higher countenance

The force that takes element’s of spirit place
Only one note higher then spirit at the base
And has even more sublime grace
That is the fifth element in second place

The single pipe of organs has them all
Starting at the base with the soul
All elements that emanate from the soul
Everyone somewhere on first pipe will fall

Second pipe’s elements are those made by forge of dream
And the fifth of them compare to spirit is extreme
Just like elements of forge to earths elements are extreme
The fifth element at the base of second pipe is sublime not supreme

There are as many such elements as on first pipe are placed
And on the forge of dream element they are based
Above the forge element they are spaced
And by mage their song is aced

Third pipe and forth and so on also exist
Their elements flow through sublime mist
Of so many pipes the organs consist
That even though amount of notes in pipe is eons long list

Compare to amount of pipes it almost does not exist
That is how many pipes are played through celestial mist
On organ that on symphony of magnificence insist
And with beauty and enchantment of notes will persist

More beautiful is its song
Then nightingales warble or sound of a gong
Nonlinearity is above the organs that play this song
And together with it they make sonnet that to divine will belong.



Details | Lyric | |

Synchronistic Riddles

An undisclosed confession
Voiced by things unseen
Expressed within my purpose
And written in my dreams

So quietly I tell you
Quietly I sing
Of all the truth I witness
In the depths of everything

With synchronistic focus
Divination's gift
And in enigmatic silence
I pray the veil will lift

These dreams are so elusive
They play within the shade
And just as I might glimpse them
The visions start to change

They dance within this statement
They observe from in my mind
Their riddles go unnoticed 
As do all the clues I hide

Yet I see them in my mirror
I can catch them in these words
These dreams are from our future
And from a past that goes unheard


Details | I do not know? | |

Night

night falls
wounded by the days' plight

night consumes
all the hopeful fractured splinters of light

night recedes
into its desolate lair

night extinguishes
the roaring furnace of despair

night hides
from a bubbling desire reaching out to feel

night flees
leaving the jilted to bow down and kneel

night soars
breaking the chains of isolation

night rots
in the cellars of time's vacuum of desolation

night devours
the travails of the day that has past

night mends
the wounds that once were doomed to last

night returns 
faithfully as the day must retire

night settles
the doomed voices that mutter and conspire
night consoles
the weary mind and the restless heart so torn
night placates
knowing that night itself is darkest just before a new dawn

so

night freezes
all snapshots of the passing day

as

night embraces
the new while the old simply fades away


Details | I do not know? | |

No Fariy Tales Allowed

Pause
Preach
Adapt
Reach
Roar
Wire the letter
Describe
Enter the weather
Feed
Forget
Weed 
Make a script
Dice
Slice 
Describe
Entice
Rotate
Be nice


Details | Free verse | |

Puppets

They claim thousands of lives everyday,
carrying out mass executions on innocent souls. A lot of training
is done in their secret hideouts - learning to make bombs, and shoot. They
do all this training not because of any forthcoming war, but only to annihilate
those who don't take heed to their code of living and believing. They
believe that by following their code, heavens will open the doors,
for their souls to enter. They are puppets being controlled by the code,
which moves their heads, legs and hands, using invisible strings......


Details | Free verse | |

Thoughts on Immortality

It comes down not to what I seek
but what the rocks and flame
and embers of a still pervasive spirit
make of silence that forgets itself.

It is the metaphor that reaches 
for a truth that lurks in turn 
beneath the waves. It calls out 
only to the one surrendering
his consciousness and in that trust,
himself!

That is where the glory lies,
and words may not intrude.
Being then calls not unto its own,
nor does it look beyond, but rests
where need may not be understood
or even known.

Does he who meditates step into
the shadow realm that death affords?
There is a price in knowing;
neither art nor artifice 
will take him there.

Nor may the odds be calculated,
breath and risk inseparable,
until one day a paradise
we didn't plan or dare to verbalize, 
may then proclaim and offer forth
its own fulfillment of a dream
or, yes, perhaps new mind
that will confound it all.
         ~


Details | Didactic | |

God

God 

God is a metaphor for many an unconscious mind
-a metaphor of the highest ideal we know?
Sadly not. But yes a confusing delusion of the worst kind
where man and beast suffuse in an entangling glow.

God is a frame without a picture in an infinite wall;
You can call it that way and without fear of retribution,
‘cause we invented fear and punishment and the fall
from grace, as main participants of our constitution.

God was for some; a man walking in the sky,
for others; some kind of a belligerent entity,
And for many others; the beautiful sigh
of a soul in search of its own eternity.

God can have many meanings and reasons
depending on the party ruling at the time.
You can, then, follow the flow of generational seasons
and use the metaphor most pleasing to your mind.

God, to me, is none of those things clustered above.
I don’t even call him god, a name so pagan and wild.
God is the wonderful source of universal love
that can always be perceived in the eyes of a child… 


Details | I do not know? | |

Mountian

One

Word

Builds on

another and

still yet others 

till a mountain of

words form a reality

and a state of mentality.

Paragraphs of pointed potentials 

Climbing the slope of fundamentals.

The top only lets you see where you are.

Maybe where you came from and where your going.

but who knows of the foot or still deeper the mountains soul.

Digging under the surface, studying the foundation 

Looking at each word within its context.

A dark and sometimes cold task.

Feeling the texture between

the words and lines.

We understand

the root

shows

why