Best Subsists Poems


Untitled

Dark dull dawn
Sunset sad silhouette
After you’re gone

Pricking pain persists
Grief getting gross
You, still in dreams exist

Lonely long life
Sinking Spirit Subsists
Where, respite lies

Premium Member The Dark Poet

A waking up, do I, Dark Poet, need
to shake my creature core from sheltered sleep.
A seed has taken root as bitter weed
that sprouts from disappointments buried deep
inside me, where a well-hid wild thing
with armored skin lifts groggy head to breathe.
No fire escapes its mouth, for it must cling
to courtesy although its blood should seethe.
If roused, the beast could overstep its bounds
and though I’ve tamed it well, I sometimes hear
in dusky dreams its melancholy sounds.
Before the dawn its murmurs disappear.
On bitter weed subsists my dragon child.
Oh, should I let it rest. . . or wake the wild?


For Irma's Dark Poet contest

Sweethearts Enchantment

As a sweethearts cremson rose
True Love… within hearts... be-trolled
Each beat… is ever lasting… sweet
Mesmerizes two souls

As passion… within overflows
Desires begin...  Exceedingly grows 
Just like… a moon lit night… shows
Stars sparkles with… twilights gleam

Within the mist… of it all... such bliss
Glorious love… intertwine two streams 
Grasping a soft… but boisterous kiss
Within dreams… of dreams… total paradise it seems

Song Lyrics whispering…  Sweetheart’s enchantment
Mysteriously be-holding… God blessings sent
Tenderly within reach
True Love unfolding… between each

Sweet fervent… within arm’s reach 
Touched within... hearts of gold
Love everlasting… never grows cold
Magic parallel… between two

God’s gives True Love… encounter by two
Mystical Bliss
Sweetheart’s enchantment… “I Love You”
True Love in life… Subsists

~God Blessings come of ~True Love~within Hearts between two Souls~
                          ~Come to Jesus~Receive All Gods' Blessings~
© Star Light  Create an image from this poem.


Carnival of Mirrors

Under a sun scorched sky,
I stood on the dust of your shores.
Before opening my eye,
to the wonder of your worlds.
Without perceiving the temple
I had entered to worship,
to your altar, I pedaled,
pleading case with trembled lip.
An apparition, desperately drifting.
Encircled streets, city's nightscape.
Your tangible soul tittilating, escaping.
Another dystopia loneliness can't escape.
Two nights, face pressed against glass.
A bordertown trapped in a globe of snow.
Society, thought kindred, destined to pass.
A weary seeker, yearning to be known.
Hope's candle, dwindling sliver of flame.
Dying of thirst, trapped in a well.
A treasure hunt with nothing to claim.
Plugged into electric dimension, no battery cell.
I sat alone, amongst the art,
and surrendered a grand sigh.
Designed to live a life, apart.
No community wagon drawn nigh.
And then a camel broke his back.
As it snapped, I took the straw.....
....and sucked Burning Man's marrow dry.
I didn't request respect. It was spoken.
I didn't beg for love. It was freely given.
I didn't see me as that bereft and broken.
So much imposed, self hate, unforgiven.
I screamed as we gathered to burn the token.
I wept deeply as my entire being was woken.
The pantheon I saw no longer exists.
The lessons learned are eternal.
I know where my true home subsists.
From my internal castle to your external.
I didn't come back
as a different man.
I just jumped the track.
Freedom has no plan.
I don't even need the desert.
I burn with every word.
I'm rusted forever, with playa dirt,
no matter where I'm at in default world.

-Angel Fatale-
© Ryan Tyler  Create an image from this poem.

Part of Me Is Lost

[Re-posted]

From dregs
of twilight embers,
pale dawn’s embrace—
and naught but rusty glow
stolid umbra to banish,
in wan resolve,
from these, my solitary rooms.

Echoes.
Small children laughing,
afar and ago—
profound diminuendo.
Still, I grasp—
clutching sand—
a dying world to hold.

But pain’s recall
subsists—
and, shuddering,
ebbs,
into my eyes—
drips through my fingers
and onto the floor.

In the Land of Light

When I tell you that I love you 
I mean it like NO other

It does not come from my mind 
nor my heart  

But from deep within my soul


I love you with the innocence 
of an infant and the playfulness 
of a child
Like the daydream of a 
teenager and the content in a 
woman's smile

It's a love that grows within me 
every time I meet your gaze
A love that embraces and binds 
me in so many different ways

A love that sparkles on the 
river like the sun could only get 
brighter
As breathtaking as the 
waterfalls which make 
discomforts lighter

A love that has the power to 
make the forests much more 
greener
That illuminates the ocean and 
makes all melodies sound 
sweeter

A love that views the night sky 
more magical than it seems
That allows me to fall asleep and 
have the most enchanting 
dreams

A love that puts me at ease 
and gives me peace of mind
It encompasses all of my 
beliefs and strengthens my bond 
to the Divine

This love in its entirety was not 
even portrayed above
As there is no earthly way to 
even begin to describe my love 


I cannot say that I will love you 
forever, as that is a time to 
measure 

In the place that I truly love 
you, time does not exist

It is in the land of light where 
only this love subsists


Premium Member Searching For Rain

An expanse of pregnant clouds gather 
I hesitate mid-step in petrichor air
anticipating a breakthrough, a rumble 
the rain.

A lone desert tortoise roots for water
as he subsists on tiny droplets
he hunts for pearls of condensation
collecting on sparse foliage 
scarce puddles of liquid gold
that form in the early morning dew.

Searching for rain in the desert wastelands
a lone bald eagle scavenges for food 
to feed to her young fledglings
who eagerly await her return.

The desert languishes, barren and lifeless
waiting in anticipation at the dawn of day
day after day, month after month
until today...

As now, I look and wait, fresh rain appears
heaven sent, it's moist jewels escape
from the sky, falling down in heavy droplets
upon the thirsty ground
bringing new life to a dry and weary land.



Rewritten on 1/11/2017

Africa, Refrain From Prejudice

This is a spanking New Year,
A year to voyage with greed of peace and affinity.
Let not your mutable hate blind you from good
But be good to let your hate transmute into humane neighbourhood;
It is time to part ways with the dark forces now
It’s time to live free –
No human soul should mourn no more. No eyes
should be shedding any more tears.
All hearts ought nought be hefty of unjust racial animosity that 
may lead to gratuitous xenophobic outbreaks no more too,
Or end up to a massacre of innocent blood that 
would stain and defile the soil of our land sordid;
O Messiah, prithee, I do beseech thee!
Aid this nation of Africa to refrain from prejudice and
immorality. And teach them never to harm those who are 
innocent for the deeds of others but to reconcile;
And to depart from wrong,
And to let bygones be bygones;
And teach them also to put paid to this obsession of calling their fellow 
brothers and sisters from neighbouring countries makwerekwere . . .
A name that’s convenient enough to answer their whim.     
Nor should they sacrifice their saintliness in order 
to satisfy their vindictive blood thirst:
Instead, in this beautiful year shine’st thou the sun
at midnight…The sun that would perish and subdue the threat of
shameful grievances that might befall my nation once again.
And rain thou the rain that shall slay this futile nationalism which subsists within 
the borders of Africa, and thus free the oppressed of their perpetual servitude,
So that they too can learn to trample down the moisture of 
continental freedom –
And so help AFRICA be, for no one wills to flee.

I Wish I Weren'T a Centipede

I WISH I WEREN’T A CENTIPEDE
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS




I wish I weren’t a centipede, a lowly arthropod
I need a transformation into something much more mod
To obtain status, with a much higher species standing
Not be straddled with an enervating task so demanding
I get no praise for my control nor multiple coordination
None can match my velocity nor perfect synchronization
Hard work, sweat and practice, I never need to hedge
Only I can manage and direct hundred pairs of legs

There are numerous phoney imposters of me
The most common, of course, the millipede
We both scurry about after the sun goes down
I’m known as a deadly killer, he’s just a clown
And when he is frightened, curls up and plays dead
Me, when confronted, a venom I’ll promptly embed
He subsists  eating dead leaves and rotting flesh 
Me, I go hunting I like to devour my protein fresh

I’m really scary,  so I stay hidden during the day
But at night is when I’m active searching out for prey
I’ve got a couple of pincers, positioned near my head
I reach out to find you, once located, you are dead
That’s my routine, residing in wet n gloomy sites
Venturing out at dusk to procure a couple of bites
I’m not a gourmet almost anything fits my diet
A mouse, a rat, an ant. If its warm I’ll surely try it
  
Each day mimics itself, an unremarkable occurrence
Repeating the same sequence doesn’t really make much sense
After due deliberation, I have decided to fill my day
With thoughts of being a condor and just aviate away
I will soar over the Andes riding endless thermal drafts
View the Nazca Plains, take in the mysterious graphs
Alas, it’s a pipe dream, that each night I’ll need to cede
I’ll scurry out, repeat the hunt, cause I’m just a centipede

Premium Member The Attributes and Marks of the Church

The attributes of the Church is three: authority, infallibility and indefectibility
By the authority of Church I mean the right and power which the Pope and the Bishops, as the successor of the Apostles have to reach and govern the faithful

By the infallibility of the Church I mean the Church cannot err when it teaches a doctrine of faith and morals

By the indefectibility of the Church I mean that the Church as Christ founded it, will last till the end of time

These attributes are found in their fullness in the Pope, visible head of the Church, whose infallible authority to teach bishops, priests, and people in matters of faith and morals will last till the end of the world

The Church has 4 marks by which it may be known, it is One, it is Holy, it is Catholic, it is Apostolic

The Church is One because all its members agree in one faith, are all in one communion, and are all under one Head

The Church is Holy because it’s under Jesus Christ, is holy; because of the eminent holiness of so many thousands of its children

The Church is Catholic or Universal because it subsists in all ages, teaches all nations, and maintains all truth

The Church is Apostolic because it was founded by Christ on His Apostles and is govern by their lawful successors, and because it has never ceased, and never will cease, to teach their doctrine

These attributes and marks are found in the Holy Roman Catholic Church alone
The Church derives to its undying and infallible authority from the Holy Spirit, the spirit of truth, who abides with it forever

The Church is kept One, Holy Catholic by the Holy Spirit, the spirit of love and holiness, who unites and sanctifies its members throughout the world.

Rise

I will rise trying to kiss the stars
Parting behind broken scars

And with every rise I try to strive
I perceive my goals like a shooting light

For I don't know what the smell of success is
As the journey of life is a never ending test

Just as failure subsists a shadow of destiny
Leaving no room for empathy

But the rise to reach the stars will never stop
As one day I will reach the top

For as hard and deep the wounds may be
I will rise and you will see
I will rise and you will see…

Plenum

Many eyes saw me pass, as I rode by
My reasons have fallen, like a brick house with nobody inside
Myself, I am nothing, a mere echoing of You
Yet I insist tis’ our first meeting and that you’ve left me clue

So again we return to this
This Being that incessantly persists
Where no words reach, yet all language subsists
As a hand, silent as the wind gently kissing passed leaves
She journeys through our myst
Convening the plenum as we breath

At night she rests in her natural state,
Yet we upon this rock have gone amiss
Saturated, once again within her tears, 
Our purpose her bliss
And life sings its song across the cosmic ocean
For I to witness
Oh if the air could speak...

O My Human Being,

O my human being,


Move, O my human being,
Remove the enmity
Enmity has spoiled the humanity-

Use your head O human being,
And behead the atrocity
Atrocity has ruined the humanity-

Have will O my human being
Please kill the immorality
Immorality has ruined the humanity-

Enmity, atrocity, immorality
As they have audacity 

Among us exists
Existential crisis
Along with us subsists
Substantial chaos 

Enough
Wait not
Get rough

Nothing more 
To think and sink

O my human being,
You must dwell as a being
In future too

A Melancholic Blaze

The wolves race through the woods...
A melancholic night breathing...
The moon weeping its elegant light...
 As I drown in the lake of uncertainty...

A prodigious night...
Procreating melancholy...
A deceiver at command...
Portraying images of the divine...

The nature decaying to the bizarre setting...
As the wolves howl at the night’s mystical descend...
And as my heart cries a disheartening reverie...
The river turns venomous at the cheerless call...

The wolves pursue the divine call...
The eerie wind deceives their ears...
Far ahead I see a shadow of the pure...
But as I approach...the shadow is razed by the prevalent obscurity...

The winter birds seem to be early...
Nesting in the putrefied tree...
The venomous river appears frozen...
As a chilling breeze stings the heart...

A prodigious night...
Procreating melancholy...
A deceiver at command...
Portraying images of the divine...

The last few hopes seem to deaden...
As a cloud seems to darken the elegant moon...
And the heart craves for her warmth...
As the flowers anticipate the monsoon...

Why is it that her radiant shadows appear?
When illumination ceases to exist...
A bird rests on my shoulder...
And sings mantras of eternal hope...
An assurance of support... 
And guidance...as the melancholic night descends...

The wolves howl to the infinite sky...
...And the lamentation of a lost soul...
Overpowered by their howls...
As the melancholic fire burns on...

The lamentation of a lost soul...
Forever lost...

...And as I close my eyes...
The setting transforms to “heaven”
Where flowers are vivacious...
...And nature rejoicing the start of spring...
...As I lay in her arms...
The panorama vivid as ever...

A panorama...
That subsists within the broken heart...
And a last few dead branches...
The winter bird collects to complete its nest...

And now all is at rest...
Silence is what subsists eternally...
The lamentation of a torn heart
Ever so callous...

...As he putrefies eternally...
...In a Melancholic Blaze...

Trope Tripe Tread

my humblest apology if you experience addle brained, frazzled, harried, livid with rage akin to bing mad as a hatter gritted teeth syndrome when trying to make head or tails of confusing message, which essentially can be boiled to down to a genuine search for female friendship of the intimate kind.

perhaps the courtship of friendship (maybe something beyond the pulsating phallic pale) will prompt me to sober up and express feelings, ideas and thoughts (other than a desire for sexual intimacy) in a more understandable fashion. essentially (as you so might clearly intimate and interpret), i would like to become at least casually familiar with an attractive gal (per what the nonconformist paradigm of near sighted eyes property of myself deem aesthetically pleasing) and intelligent woman.

mud dea ova electric kool aid acid test
to share bounty of sentiments - n savor warm female body during rest 
no requirements nor stipulations imposed on lifelong quest
minding manners to avoid bing a pest
'specially carnal craving bubbles forth noel hung er oppressed 
from private "v" age high nah nest.
 
although a strong desire for physical (read sexual) involvement the primary force (that goads me and takes off in flights of bon mots poetic fancy - frequently irrelevant on most readers), i would also be delighted to share intelligent conversation otherwise known as verbal intercourse.
 
anyway, i immediately admit as k9 buel
NOT bing snoop doggy dog nor ll j cool,
yet attest 2 a habit 2 slobber drool
just garden, generic variety household fool
who subsists on thin emotional gruel
'thou envisioning a mirage of a jewel
or whatever foodstuffs given a mule
where mutual acceptance doth rule
feigned cheerfulness shown at yule.

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