Best Unprocessed Poems
Own emotional wounds
Waiting for a seed to germinate
Evergreen, my little bean
The child who was never born
A handful of soft down
Glass bowl with pink walls
with an opening to the universe
Death, no sign of life
A quiet heart
in this star-crossed trip
Blocked by rivers of tears
The painful experience
Unprocessed trauma
When things are difficult
frustration, sadness,
anger and longing
You become completely paralyzed
A piece of my heart
will always be in heaven
The inner dialogue ...
if you only knew
~~~
25.10.2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
If only you knew Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
2nd place in the contest
These events,
Gentle cataclysms,
Sweet, soft earthquakes,
Spasm on wet sand
And smoky panes
With tremors;
Seismic finger paintings
In dust and condensation,
Illicit pictures,
Despairing wordplay.
When you are gone
I will mourn
As if death
Has claimed you,
Packed you in a box
In the ground;
The earth around
My heart
Weighs dense and heavy,
Compacting forbidden love
In worms and clay.
I will hide everything,
Concealing truth
Under layers of
The mundane,
Smiling, nodding to dialogues
Unheard and unprocessed;
Through soil strata
Will beat and bleed silence
Of a forbidden love
Living forever,
Denied breath.
Indistinct, they circumnavigate in the raw ~
they’re thoughts unprocessed and unpolished
ethereal and feral, nothing more than impulses really
If it were up to me, I might drown in that sea of ambiguity
and forego all communication with the outside world
forever content staying confined to my private universe
In most instances I couldn’t be bothered
yet at times I’d almost want to scream to be heard
that’s when I’d want to be as loud and clear as I could be
But sometimes the words refuse to form
at times so deep they must be mined
and surface in their own time that can’t be rushed
So I write because it allows me to think at my own pace
I can capture what I feel, what I remember
I can seize it and can verbalize it
I write for different reasons
I write because most people
never ask what’s on my mind when the time’s right
or won’t wait for me to put my thoughts to words
I write because I want to say it right
I want to choose my words
not be misquoted
Mostly I write to capture time
time as a memory, time as a treasure
time as tangible, time as a toy to amuse
Mostly I write to be heard
I write so I can say I’ve done my part
I’ve said my bit and can’t be faulted for staying quiet
I write so I won’t die
without a voice, without saying my piece
without having said all I had to say
AP: 1st place 2022, Honorable Mention 2026
Open your eyes, Africa.
They have returned —
not with guns this time,
but with contracts and smiles.
You call them investors,
but they are the same colonizers,
only dressed in modern suits.
Why do you let your enemies
run your mines and gold fields?
Why do your children starve
while strangers eat from your soil?
Your copper, your lithium, your oil —
they leave your land raw,
and return to you as finished chains.
You cry for jobs,
yet you export them
with every ship of unprocessed ore.
Africa,
you are the pulse of the world’s economy,
yet you crawl in the dust
of your own abundance.
To the youth in the diaspora —
come home.
The continent calls you,
for the old guards have sold its soul.
Remove the thieves in power.
Their loyalty is not to the people,
but to the puppeteers who feed them.
Europe cannot live without you.
China trembles without your earth.
Then why do you kneel before them?
This is not the time to dream.
It is the time to awaken.
For the second colonization
is already here —
and its name is investment.
"The Scent of Eden"
Up the road I walked
as if in some golden hazy dream
and along the road an honour guard
to the left of me, of red-ripe apple trees
I walked bare feet
into that lush abundance
of waving dark forest green
the scent of mystery, fresh petrichor
wet leaves underneath my soul
moistly called me in, to believe
some kind of beckoning
to unprocessed novel new beginnings
I plucked the largest I could find, as always
stretching too far above me
then, in my hands
I raised it to my rosy lips
before I took it fully in, my over-soul
breathed its knowledge o’er me like a twin
wisdom, its gilded giddy perfume
the scent of Eden,
sings
Candide Diderot. ‘25
I have a heart not pumping not feeling
It hangs on my chest serving no purpose
I want it to hurt but it got nothing
Dried all up of life's forgotten repose.
I am soaked in decades unprocessed truth
Forever trapped in perfect preserved corpse
Without preview of underlying roots
Of how to this kind of creature I've morphed.
I'm undead but I learn to live with it
There is no part in me for emotions
No fatal focus attached to be hit
For cold body to be back in notion.
Eternity will be my company
One hell joke that will never be funny.
You had access to all the world’s resources,
Over nature, you had sway;
With newly acquired prosperity,
You had your own way;
Of green forests – industrial land acquisition;
Of all good sense – contraception,
Upon us, you have brought the apocalypse!
You rode gas guzzling cars,
Burned oil barrel after barrel;
Didn’t care about the deadly smoke,
For us you have slowly created hell,
Unbridled explosion of population,
Unhinged destruction of God’s creation;
Soon we’ll be engulfed by an eternal solar eclipse!
You were more interested in bombs and guns,
Instead of educating your daughters and sons,
The earth turned into a battered wreck,
Not a single thought for our sake!
Our time seems to be running out,
Your reckless actions have filled us with doubt,
If you had preserved the environment,
You could have prevented our torment!
You created a corrupt and broken system,
Where status matters more than happiness,
Where perception determines our lives,
Where careers are limited by your narrow mindedness!
Air filled with cancerous smoke,
Oceans choked by unprocessed plastic,
Drug abuse plaguing society,
Education that kills, so bloody caustic!
You have hung us out to bleed,
On the barbed wire in your dried and shriveled lawn,
You deeds shall forever be resented,
Long after you’re dead and gone!
Climate change and exhausted resources,
Will end us soon, we are not surprised;
The last suffers of human stupidity,
A generation euthanized!
EMOTIONS
emotions:
Universal language of
The subconscious,
Unprocessed feelings of
Inner self
Your thunderous silence
Supersedes any utterance
The conscious can offer
Bringing thus understanding
To the hearts and minds of
Men
Blessed is the one who the
Plethora of your expressions
Can master
Be he a learned man or a
Layman
For the truth hidden in
The hearts and minds he
Can decipher
Thus
Brute honesty can prevail
Over embellished utterances masterminded
By
The diplomatic conscious
© Demetrios Trifiatis
07 MAY 2013
“Manuscript”
activating pulse frequency
shifting unseen
the new heards
in numbers
multitudes tagged
now seen
steered to better light fields of green
empowered consciousness electric,
new songs for sown ancient seeds
planted deep, the hidden,
washed in warmer energy,
unsung light codes now opening
plough the
tears for grief,
truth’s release
the supernature cleans,
the shadowlands
sleep
locked in their dreams
the docile in r.e.m. domicile,
reading ancient worn blueprint
stories born unprocessed
the caged breaking out
awaking new manuscript
bridal branding dissolved,
the held bridle
unleashed,
of what we are not;
and what we are now, to be
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“All That Sound”/ NU
https://youtu.be/qckS9k5aoZo
herd/ humanity
heard / awaking humanity
bridal
bridle
manuscript
https://www.collinsdictionary.com/dictionary/english/manuscript
LYRICS / “All That Sound”, NU
https://genius.com/Nu-all-that-sound-lyrics
“Healing for a New World”, Vince Gowman
https://www.vincegowmon.com/activating-light-codes/
Cody Road, Cody Road I miss you Cody Road.
You were the road as a child that took me to my grandma's house.
You were the path in Mobile Terrace, Mobile Alabama that I love.
We played in your rich. red clay of your pure unprocessed state,
when it rained as kids on visits.
But Cody Road, count down it was three short blocks in the terrace to
Grandma's house on third street.
You took me to the perfectly, four room, square house on
cement blocks.
A house of love, grace and life that I always belonged.
It's been a long time Cody Road. Life's been kinda hard.
But memories of you and my grandma will forever keep
my heart warm.
In the quiet slipstream of night,
where thoughts unfurl like tendrils of smoke,
some dismiss dreams as mere echoes—
brain farts, they jest,
leftover gas from our wakeful hours.
But dreams stretch beyond the scraps
of unprocessed thoughts and muted emotions.
They are more,
extensions of our daylit drama,
sometimes prophets foretelling what looms on our horizons,
sometimes just mirages painted on the dark canvas of sleep.
Our dreamland,
a second dwelling,
alien yet familiar,
where Jung’s words whisper through the ether:
the roots of our dreams tangled deep in the psyche,
reflecting the parts of our souls
aching for recognition,
lying fallow like fields
waiting for the perfect moment to bloom.
Here, in this nightly pilgrimage,
we roam free from the physics of the real,
each dream a petal of possibility
in the sprawling garden of what might be.
We meet, converse, and part
with parts of ourselves
we barely recognize by light of day.
In dreams,
our fears dance before us,
our desires sing their siren songs,
and our truths, too wild for the waking world,
find their voice.
So let us not dismiss our night travels
as mere residue of the day.
For in the realm of dreams,
we learn the language of our own depths,
mapping constellations
in the unexplored galaxies of our inner universes.
In dreams, we are home
and homesick all at once,
forever wandering, forever found.
The innocent minds that grew up
the hurt that forced us
the effortless smile that appealed through,
quiet nights with breakthrough’s.
The fears overcame covered in love
the ending pain is bombarded often
the rope of hope keeps corroding
the other side of deep end is always waiting.
As the days in a year pass by
closest hearts sublime
the urge of denying harsh reality
fighting it because no one can take my sanity.
The thoughts crossing my mind
the unprocessed feelings like tides
attaining a height then lowers after a while
peacefully travelling in the ocean finding some place to bide.
All the scars caged in the soul
then feeling it and letting it go.
The innocent mind that grew up was unexperienced but strong
now she understands the latent shine of tears and is bold.
Evil minds cannot conquer a beautiful heart
pretending game is for sad people as they know no one is with them till the last.
What we had was the best but what we could have would be magical
pain caged in the soul but then feeling it and letting it go.
I smile eveytime i remember the time we spent
but no one can take my sanity so i dont bend,
I cry and then laugh recalling the innocent minds that grew up
to the dreams that are more passionate and stronger.
Life is not made up of moments
moments have to be shaped out of an unstable life,
so i stand proud because so many adventures are left
not allowing the rope to pull me away with it and falling in the deep end.
For as long as I can remember
I played the peacemaker role
Depend on me as the glue guy
As I try to keep things in control
Don't worry I won't rock the boat
Will keep things safe and stable
Neatly buttoned up at all times
Sure let's just go with that fable
Was always wrapping up my worth
In fixing other people's problems
A well devised distraction tactic
To avoid my issues and not solve them
Been shifting the narrative lately
Starting to shine my light internally
Surprised how much was unprocessed
What a relief to delve into discovery
Now it’s time to make a decision
Where will my energy get directed
Continue to subvert what I require
Or step up to my needs that I neglected
Doesn’t mean I cast others aside
Actually the opposite was proved
When I fill up my own cup first
I'm still the glue guy, just new and improved
Let us be….
Let us be cast by winds
holding on to nothing but each other’s company
swaying this way and that,
displaying our fragile brittle states,
seasonal winds lashing us up and down,
sun baking our skin, and rain stirring our moods
waiting for the weather to bring us back together.
Beware how subtle the undercurrent;
our blood and sweat feeding that fermented material stream.
Oblivion upon which we have chastised ourselves to
and offered up our mortal bodies for more to die for.
Let us be …..
Let us be bred and reared to be unmanufactured
letting nothing come between you and I
in a sweeter harmony as unprocessed gifted spirits
unleashing natural expressions of growth.
Be ready for malevolent forces encroach, sneaking in
to exploit every inch of our personal sphere
desperate to replace any natural act, with a loaded critical saw
poised to fell us down, conspiring, preying on choices
competing to own more of our interactions
as ammunition to be sold as a privilege
towards our becoming shredded to dust.
Beware as it could be…but it doesn’t have to be
Let us be free….
For our inner forms are not mechanical or symmetrical
nor do they all conform to a system’s algorithm.
So, stop letting us be cast us against each other
as divisible targets against our communal spirited spheres.
Rather, untie the illusory exterior mask and grow flowers from buds
like trees from seeds, find abundance in correspondence.
The real image of you and I resides in joy and relief
as the ancient light is held in soil and leaf
maybe dissolved in sweeter composition
kissing and stimulating at our roots, licking
healing shared wounds as love desires.
Dawn inspires with her captivating blend
of watercolor hues,
the wisps of fog, the apple crisp air,
the electric charge of the new.
See how she bleeds through the trees
and crests the mountains high
laying her grace, all over the face of
of earth* bound creatures eyes.
Dawn reforms the listless born
and clinks the glass of time,
raising a toast to night who boasts
of jeweled skies in summer time.
See how she weaves with each breeze
the threads of weary fate,
tending her loom from birth to tomb
a fate which none escape.
Dawn breaks each breath that we take
with beauty so sublime
no hour* can resist her kiss,
her never-ending climb.
See now, Aurora’s diadem slips
see her prismatic shine,
bow to her royal Highness
welcome morning’s time.
TIP: Use as much fresh UNPROCESSED product as possible
the packagingis filling the dumps & BACK TO cloth diapers!