Best Urges Poems
Deeply rooted dark desires
of every deviant sexual urge,
divine and unconscionably
naughty primordial nuances
of sensuality unscrupulously
played out in dreamt midnight
rendezvous or reality if you dare...
it's not so hard to swallow
Beyond our urges
where the water is serene
Lies our intelligence
Ripped apart emotions falling from my sleeve.
Every thought exploding, gentle as a breeze.
Starting from the center it piles up inside.
Until the body fills with lust and pours forth from the eyes.
Battered walls are crumbling and time forever still.
As the heart tangos fervently with mind for sake of soul.
Aligning bodies press against the glass for lack of space.
We unfold from within ourselves, our urges have no grace.
Vacant Perdition
Reeling listless
Empty story
Gazing, endless
Mandatory
Purgatory
Muted motion
Thinking sorely
Null devotion
Sudden urges
Fleeting feelings
Will emerges
Sailing ceilings
Disused dealings
Mislaid purpose
Broken meanings
Without service
It’s insipid
Bouncing bluster
Wisdom wicked
Nothing mustered
Lacking luster
Sempiternal
Filibuster
Silence vernal
by Andrew Crisci
Bitter tears drip from my red pupils like incandescent, hot lava
erupting from a volcano to appease the urges of weeping;
and do I mourn for myself, or for the poor, innocent, persecuted,
misunderstood and unloved? Will this cry of injustice change anything?
Will the oppressor be softened by them or remain vile?
It's very rare that pretentiousness turns into consciousness,
revealing all the faults that make one a persona ingrata;
why is human pride such a tempting desire to own everything,
to destroy what was built with stamina leaving no footprints?
What will be said about an era which did not prosper and shine?
Who will write the testimony books, if not those inspired?
Take the written word away, and the darkness will definetely return!
Dante and Shakespeare did their part in divulging it: you do yours!
Yesterday's world was a menacing shadow oblitering all knowledge;
the masses were ignorant, but some fervently sought education
through the favor of Kings and Queens, not ignoring the urges of weeping
that came from poverty and unvoiced thoughts that couldn't be expressed;
yes, the above-mentioned Rainassance poets did succeed in their quest!
What disturbs me is the absence of fairness and equality in our times,
even murderers can be acquitted for reason of insanity..they take a life
so sacred and useful in scopes beyond comphrension and imagination;
how wratful God must be over the decision of a lenient, or corrupt judge!
And what outrages me is the heartlessness of mothers that want obortion,
or leave the new-borns in trash bins, or on sidewalks...not even
on a church's steps to be spotted by passerbys who will come to their rescue;
and sadly they will die without knowing the urges of weeping as we do.
How cruel and lawless is Man ruling the earth without the concept of humaness!
And what does He care if they live in squallor and are denied happiness?
All He desires is riches, admiration and comfort over the urges of weeping!
Entered in Michael J. Falotico's contest,
" Sounds Of A Cry "
On certain days I feel an urge
to flee selfishness and greed.
But for my inner Caliban
I truly might succeed.
On other days I seek release
from heartlessness and sloth,
but again this Caliban
keeps me attached to both.
Betimes I hear a call to elevate my soul;
oh, how gladly this call I would obey,
but somehow Caliban always has a knack
of getting in the way.
I really don't like Caliban.
I wish he'd go away,
but I have an awkward feeling
that he has come to stay.
Despite my protestations
I keep him all the same.
When I commit an outrage,
he's always there to blame.
I try to erase
The memory of your face.
Can't really decide,
But I know I have to try.
The dimples in your cheeks...
Sometimes my knees get weak.
Should not even feel this way.
Maybe you shouldn't stay.
Temptation is creeping in.
What I'm thinking is a sin.
Friends is all we could ever be.
Even if you feel the same for me.
These urges
These urges, tend to surge,
when Im stressed, maybe its a mechanism to curb these thoughts that grab my sub conscious and drag my emotions to the edge.
So the only way to end this phase is either to jab, chug or puff away the dark which ever drug that can pull me out of the slump. Now I understand why some, can not put down the cup, not out of fun or being dumb but for something as small as a laugh or maybe to **** the voices stuck in their drums that bark and ask certain questions with no luck. It seems the plug to switch off the chats is found in the glass, or grass which ever works fast, to numb the heart and bring a feeling that lasts,... but these urges now ask for more just to relax.
I look down now
And I can just barely see
The thin, pale white lines
From the girl I used to be
The girl who’s not so far gone
Not as dead as you think
But instead of watching skin bleed
She now just puts it in ink
As the clock ticked faster
The calendar pages flipped
More and more time passed
And the scars started to slip
You hear that she’s clean
She has been for years
6 months, one year, two?
If only it were that clear.
If only she could say she’s better
And no urge lingers in her head
It’s a part of her now, she won’t escape it
At least, not until she’s dead.
She’ll spend her whole life chasing
That high that she once knew
And because she can’t do it herself
There’s no danger she won’t pursue.
She’d climb the tallest mountains
With little fear of fall
Because if she took a plunder
She’d be at peace, after all.
To her, it doesn’t count
Grabbing lamps and hot glue
Burning isn't cutting
It’s an accident, too.
She yelps and she complains
Griping about the burn
When really what it feels like
Is a quick, quiet return.
Every now and then
Her skin feels an itch
A jittery, gaping feeling
Longing to be stitched.
She’ll resist it best she can
Deny it till it’s true
But still, she’ll never cease to long
For the feeling she always knew.
She urges me forward
Time a concept dreamed by man
Experience expects something
Familiar feelings, the smell of success,
I recognize this place
A familiar stop gap
She laughs and turns me North
Stunned I stare at mountains
Is this my epiphany?
Where is my dream?
Destiny urges me forward
I fall on my idealism
Clairsentience spins me twice
Claircognizance takes me by the hand
I listen intently
Deferring to my soul’s knowing
I HAVE URGES OUT OF PASSIONATE LOVE,
AND I ONLY HAVE THEM FOR YOU.
IT'S THE BURNING FEELING INSIDE OF ME,
THAT'S HOW I KNOW THAT TO BE TRUE.
IT MAY BE TEMPTING TO "LOOK AT THE MENU,"
FOR SPICY HOT DISHES THAT ENTICE.
BUT SINCE I'M A GENTLEMAN,
I'LL SETTLE FOR A LOVE THAT'S PERFECTLY RIGHT.
I CAN IMAGINE YOU TOUCHING ME,
GIVING ME KISSES AND HUGS,
HOLDING ME WITH YOUR SMOOTH, GENTLE HANDS,
WHILE CAUGHT-UP, DOING THE JITTERBUG.
I LONG TO FILL THE EMPTINESS IN MY HEART,
THAT'S WHY I'M LOOKING YOUR WAY.
I HAVE EMOTIONS FROM LOVE-STRUCK DARTS,
AND I'M A STRONGER TARGET EVERY GLORIOUS DAY.
I'M NEEDING, CRAIVING, BUT WAITING,
WITH THE PAITIENCE OF A MAN WITH GOOD INTENT.
I DESIRE TO RELEASE THE CONDITIONAL URGES,
AND FOREVER BOND WITH BLESSINGS, HEAVEN SENT.
THE ROAD TO THIS BURNING LOVE,
IS A WAY OF PASSION ONLY YOU COULD REACH.
IT ONLY TAKES A SIMPLE GLANCE,
TO BEHOLD A VIEW SO BREATHTAKINGLY SWEET.
BABY, I HAVE URGES OUT OF LOVE,
LIKE A FIERCE SUMMER WIND.
AND ONLY YOU COULD STOP THIS MADNESS,
BY SAYING, "LET'S BE MORE THAN JUST FRIENDS!"
This reputation of unwanted feelings appearing up at the wrong moments has become predictable.
My mind, body and soul have become depleted and there’s nowhere left to go.
I’ve been trying to rebuild who I am but when I look in the mirror the past is always latching on.
I weep at night waiting for the will to live to be strong enough to break this grip.
My demons cackle knowing that I'm not powerful enough to let them go
I’m letting go of the urge to be seen,
to stand beneath lights that never stay.
I no longer need the world’s attention
to tell me I matter in any way.
I’m letting go of the urge to be heard,
to speak just to prove that I exist.
Not every truth needs an audience,
not every dream needs a witness.
I’m letting go of the urge to be trusted,
to keep explaining who I am.
Those who see me will see me quietly—
the rest were never part of the plan.
I’m letting go of the urge to be number one,
to run a race I never chose.
Peace is not found on podiums,
nor in competing with hidden foes.
But one small urge I still hold close,
the only one I refuse to lose—
the tender urge to stay happy,
a life I now consciously choose.
And in that urge, I find my calm—
no noise, no crowd, no burning need.
Just Rajit, breathing in his own freedom,
finally learning how to simply be.
rolling into ramble
my mind is screaming through my skin
release, blood, let me go.
bared teeth forced smile
rigor mortis
but I am breathing.
locked limbs
dead pan.
I am shivering.
pain – I need pain
life has never offered me anything to gain
only loss.
Control. 7 letters. 7, lucky number.
scratch off a lotto ticket,
pretend it wasn’t the same waste of space,
time & money as I have always been
before I toss it to the floorboard.
let me go – I whisper.
bad luck – no
the urges scream.
hurt,
hurt,
hurt.
for that is your worth.
The answers lie in setting everything free,
allow anxiety to fall and trust the process.
Baby, it’s okay to let the grass grow wild.
Nature has a way of keeping blades level.
Allow anxiety to fall and trust the process,
complete control is really just an illusion.
Nature has a way of keeping blades level,
embrace the animal clawing at your guts.
Complete control is really just an illusion,
let the raw razors uncurl and blossom.
Embrace the animal clawing at your guts,
demanding to be released from its cage.
Let the raw razors uncurl and blossom,
you’ll peak precisely when you need to.
Demanding to be released from its cage,
urges can only be contained for so long.
You’ll peak precisely when you need to,
baby it’s okay to let the grass grow wild.
Urges can only be contained for so long,
the answers lie in setting everything free.