Hanging on quite desperations.
My feelings desires manifested as one.
You lie and you lie. you lie just for fun.
No consideration there's no where to run.
You lair, you lair. You lie just for fun.
I'm broken and beaten. My blood starts to run.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning asphyxiation.
Take this spear from side and let gods will be done.
Because you lied to me.
Now take your life for me.
Mortal desires manifested as one.
You wanted my death, well now here it comes.
Transgressions, transgressions no reflection.
They call me black Jesus, the world's only son.
because you lied to me.
Now take your life for me.
They martyr the murder out of desperation.
You lied and you lied
then you lied on your back
The train starts to run.
They stole the worlds freedom,
they called it red rum.
A killer I'll kill her, a killer for fun.
They stole the worlds freedom,
they called red rum
Because you lied to me
Now take your life for me.
The flaming arrow flew far through the night sky,
shot from a wretched soul, lost in the abyss.
The tip is soaked in the blood of his deep longings,
may it find its mark and return healing bliss.
A powerful warrior and archer was he,
lowly reduced by the desperations of love.
His quill is empty, and fire's burning out,
one last hope lies with his Angel up above.
Many scars are left from battles fought and won,
yet as he ages his strong will is sinking.
Only one chance for the revival of faith,
true love must be stirred in her tender thinking.
Many years of searching have left him stranded,
in a dark, cold wilderness of loveless fear.
Riddled with deceit, demons are closing in,
sadness eases nothing, he can't shed a tear.
As he kneels down in hunger and blinding thirst,
to his Father God, he makes his final plea.
"Lord, let her find me and mend love's broken wings,
restore the tenderness, dying inside me!"
The flaming arrow falls to the earth at dawn,
into the passion of a fair maiden's heart.
With torrid yearning for the feel from this flame,
She prays, "Let me find him, that true love may start."
Waking every day
finding part of me behind
The loom threadbare and empty
no yarn there left to find
Coming apart in pieces
stitches lose their hem
Expectations falling fast
inching toward the end
Daylight into darkness
bespoken twill in threads
Voices used to mend and fit
silenced, like the dead
Sleeping with the remnants
dreams of memories lost
Desperations patchwork quilt
—blanketing the cost
(Dreamsleep: June, 2022)
Learning and not gaining the knowledge of truth,
virtues loss that talent is sold by reason proof.
The intellect in doubt when stupidity is confident,
the ignorance and its conscientious consequent.
The atheist’s ego and stress to believe in higher power,
recognized by being corrected and turning sour.
The loss of integrity by prudent act of knowledge,
but foolish expose that folly inferior grudge.
Delight of senseless proof in fact,
killing the potential of embrace in act.
Emotional intelligence the sphere of love,
believing or not are desperations for all above.
The power to control needs a story told,
ageless entities forever bold.
Entities of numbers have endless frames,
giving scientist room to theoretic claims.
Belief is the freewill of individuality,
where big bang becomes a lollipop sanctuary.
Expensive education the holy drag,
where every degree is a smoking ***.
By turning times to become a admired elite,
the evolution to turn into a Aphrodite.
The consequence of ego’s appetite,
making love to ones owns satisfied.
Rusty old sins burden my soul
Sending me broken parts,
Pieces of my most sinful thoughts
Lies, betrayals, grudges and hatred
So many moments of livid rage
Gripping the words of anger that
Passed my lips and colored another’s
Heart with wrath so furious it slashes
There are desperations that grip me
Confine my heart with despair and fear
Anxiety that nurses my old wounds
And commands me to simply not care
Along the walls of my heart, a line of
Wrecked emotions and irate passions
Respond to my yearning for affection
With reminders of what I have been
Sins are carefully judged and taken apart
By a heart that is hungry for a taste of hope
The savory blessing sent by God’s Son
Who died for these parts in my junkyard
October 4, 2019
My Favorite Junkyard Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: craig cornish
The bees swarmed to dripping honey,
and love's illusion is not so funny
when the rabbit in the hutch
backs away from your very touch.
Today he is afraid
that you chose him for your maid
and the reproductive status hump
is lost in desperations malice lumps.
With no offspring to take his place
the embarrassment is on your face
and the honey bunny you had chased
became hassenfeffer sent to inner space.
Impatient Awaiting his return, the doe
displayed herself to all the farmyard beaus
and the buck was found out of luck
when all the kits were downy ducks.
Come out of there, you silly rabbit!
BUNNY JUMP and Caren Krutsinger 12/19/18
Every fascination becomes a bauble
a gold encrusted noose
on which to dangle
the desperation of appeal
Stuffed into feathers fashioned
cushions fighting for the adverts
these sown together facsimiles
is the me in expressive tailor-made
And your life a piece of art work
each symbols collectible remark
paints the mask
of who you never really are
In the mirror dissatisfaction
daily judgment of perfection
you wear it like a scar
never a smile for who you really are
If you were and only could be
more faultless than you really should be
a photo posed abstracts anatomy of beauty
the accommodation of magazine publicity
Every fascination becomes a bauble
a gold encrusted noose
on which to dangle
the desperations to appeal
a presentation of nothing that is real
such are the cruel theaters of the skin
betraying a soul wishing not to be constrained within
Cold Desperation 2.18.97
A man stands solemn, stinging waves realized.
Thoughts become narrow, decisive darkness abounds
Fears withdrawn, loneliness encounters the chose
Winds embrace the fading light, spills unto forever.
Cities lies devouring spirits time realizes death
Waves without souls imagined, lost without destiny
Moments remembering maiden’s sorrows unrealized
Time endless day’s forgotten, needless joys released.
Lonely avenues of forever tempted, deception is now
Feeling tomorrows pain invokes thoughts past done
Dreams forgiving intentions longing for night now
Desperations kiss of time unfilled losing the past.
Coldness shadowing images of deceit, decaying
Darkness knowing loves unresponsive truth calling.
© 1997 David J. Mitchell
.
The eternal buzz of city anglers
brash, angry, hornets ever selling egos.
Shrieking anxiety laced, analog, syllables, idiotically.
Hoping against hope, urchins, desperations end,
strumming ancient chords in vain efforts,
praying evermore for ordained kindness's eye.
Telltale ubiquitous blighter's energetically begging on.
How on heaven's earth can anyone
begrudge absolution, hand out shackles instead.
The august city in full ultraviolet,
never ever satiated, each mouth open.
Raw as meat, uncooked, questionable, objectionable,
waiting on the angler's hook obediently.
between cries
between hopes
between smiles and desperations
there is life
and
between minds
between angers
between hearts and compassions
there is love
then,
what happened between you and me?
Hearts…
Fondest, on edge of broken
Words "I love you"
Ring out loudest
When heartfelt spoken
Hence, how I miss thee
Thy absence cause
Longing, to grow and grow
Shadow’s passing days set pause
Pen spilt amid desiring scripts
In desperations, desires of thy return
But, alas thy yearnings never echo
Aye, the afflictions, affections infections hotter burn
I shall forever sit
Upon this knee
Wherst I wither and drown as I pray
If thee shall not restore thy love… unto me
Then, I wilt
Beneath death’s royal crown
Lastly clutching, to once tis had
Forthwith bitterness that lays me down
This soul without you
A bleeding cost
Slowly, enters into afterlife
Where I do wait, for your spirit lost
On the market square
A new busker was in town
We all stood and looked
Reaching for our coins
We tossed them into his bag
We kept looking back
Such careful balance
While he played the violin
Dressed for a circus
Calm and collected
He moved with out any fear
Never looking up
The sweet notes rang out
Classical talent for sure
Right there in the street
The image remains
I can see him in my sleep
Processing my dreams
How like life, I think
We all walk on fragile space
Balancing our fears
At those same moments
The sun is out and we breathe
Playing the tunes we know
I'm glad I saw him
Inspiring me to rethink
My desperations
Staring through the sullied glass
Ever present…
A transom of silent reflections
Standing amid us…
Dirtying with every irate grousing
Thick and hazy…
Our windowpane painted shut
Always locked…
Gazing through at one another’s faces
Slowly fading…
Eyeing the desperations of moving lips
Hearing silence…
tough times dont last, tough people do,
these words said are so wise and true,
every decision made in our lives,
moulds it in a specific manner,
sometimes right, sometimes wrong,
we all bear its consequences,
but the one who stands above the rest,
is the one who makes his decisions right,
bearing the bitter and the blatant truth,
accepting all hardships life offers,
he is a true human being,
standing as tall as a mountain,
without succumbing to the waves of temptations and desperations,
for he knows to carve his path well,
and to make a unique mark for himself,
coz one may take a shortcut to the journey,
but in the end its the journay that matters.
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