Long Hollow promises Poems
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What is a heart,
Now that it is open;
Freed of lies which so long
Protected its tenderness.
What is a heart,
Wounded and pierced;
A crippled bird
Crying with fear.
Where is the warrior courage,
Where is the strength
To complete the journey
Of a life.
Pain has been thrown off;
Resistance has been overcome
and cut away.
Suffering has been released;
Small, reassuring measures of the past
No longer sustain.
Old dreams have been set free
Relieved of their hollow promises;
Yet now there is emptiness
And fear.
What is a heart, now that it is open;
Now that days of depression,
And sunken pity,
Have been released.
Where is the saving shield;
Where is the warrior’s courage.
Seek as a child turns to God
For love and compassion:
Shield of salvation.
Seek as a man turns to his Beloved,
For truth and honor:
Shield of courage.
Wear that fine and terrible shield,
Folded about as forgiveness,
Held fast with acceptance,
Radiant with the wisdom of ages.
Let this be a warrior’s courage;
A holy trust.
Let it rise upon wings,
Filling the open heart;
Warrior’s courage,
Face to face with destiny.
What does it mean to break the ordinary
to lift a pen like a chisel against stone,
knowing the first stroke
may draw blood from your own palm
before the marble yields?
The poet stands in rubble,
not as scavenger but as archaeologist of the unspoken,
sifting through what civilization discarded:
rusted prayers,
half-truths wrapped in silk,
the hollow promises fed to hungry mouths.
Here, in the space between collapse and creation,
we learn the grammar of phoenix-speech
how ash becomes ink,
how destruction whispers the blueprints of what endures.
To shatter,
is to reveal the fault lines already etched beneath the surface,
to name the cracks we've learned to ignore.
And so we build:
not monuments to beauty,
but altars to the beautiful refusal,
where truth burns clean,
where words rise like smoke signals from the wreckage,
calling to those who still remember how to see.
The moon rises over the mountain.
Vertigo makes me feel like I may
fall into it.
Thoughts of the day, play in fast
forward.
The things that went wrong, things
that made a sound reach your lips.
Then I saw you standing there.
The feeling, of seeing you there, rescues
from the melancholy.
Moving through the city, like urban shaman.
Knowing the real from those things
that are but hollow promises.
We search for that place of possibilities,
some say australia, others point to
the sky.
Then as we look into each other's eyes,
we find that court of creature comfort.
A place of forests and castles, any place,
that loves' royalty... would call home!
In the labyrinth of time, where shadows dance on walls of mist,
An invisible web is woven, finer than the silk thread of destiny,
And Russia, a slumbering bear in the taiga of unspoken dreams, becomes the vessel
Of an unsuspected flow, an underground river of liquid gold and hollow promises.
It's not about subjugation, but a perverse alchemy of money and power,
Where paper empires melt in the crucible of transnational greed,
And taxes, those crumbs of hope for the common man, transform
Into the toxic smoke of an endless war, a ghost haunting the world's conscience.
The United States, an eagle with wings broken by its own grandeur,
Europe, an old lady contemplating her reflection in the shattered mirror of history,
Watch their resources drain through the poisoned arteries of a phantom Russia,
Until they reach the insatiable hands of the elite, the orchestra of this macabre dance.
In the flow of my consciousness, images intertwine like the waves of a turbulent ocean:
Rusty tanks on sunflower fields, false smiles at world summits,
Hungry children in bombed cities and bankers smiling in towers of glass and steel,
All spin in a mad carousel of a war without victory and without end.
The goal is not victory, but the perpetuation of conflict, an eternal fire fueled
By the shattered dreams of coming generations, by the burned hopes of those departing,
An endless war like a Möbius strip, where beginning and end blur
In an infinite loop of suffering, profit, and manipulation on a global scale.
And in this starless night, when the moon hides ashamed of what it sees,
I sit and wonder if there still exists somewhere, in some corner of the universe,
A fragment of humanity untouched by this mire of greed and power,
Or if we are all just pawns in a cosmic game whose meaning escapes us.
Russia, America, Europe - names losing their meaning in the whirlpool of this flow,
Become mere concepts, shadows on the wall of Plato's cave, while the truth,
Harsh and merciless, hides behind the smoke screen of a perpetual war,
A dance of death that will not stop until the last coin is laundered, the last conscience corrupted.
In glass displays, they stand, forever seeking new prosthetics,
Slumbering consciences drift on waves of ads and hollow promises,
We swallow mass culture whole, like blind fish in murky waters,
Forgetting to deeply breathe life's essence, lost in superficial noise.
Distorted mirrors show us false faces, we steal our own identity,
Invisible barriers rise between us and existence's crucial questions,
The soul, a captive bird, breaks its wings in cages of consumption,
Our spirit, once thirsty for knowledge, fades slowly, unheard.
We are puppets of a civilization offering us artificial limbs,
Instead of healing deep wounds, it covers us with shiny bandages,
Estranged from ourselves, we become strangers within our being,
Forgetting to look inside, hypnotized by pale lights and sounds.
Consumerism devours our essence, turns us into pale shadows,
Our souls, once blooming gardens, now become barren deserts,
We seek happiness in things, ignoring the wealth hidden within,
Becoming robots without conscience, lost in the labyrinth of mass culture.
O, souls lost in the jungle of concrete and plastic, awaken from lethargy!
Break the chains that hold you captive in the illusion of prefab happiness,
Rediscover your spiritual essence, that sacred fire burning within,
For only thus can we save ourselves from the abyss of a senseless existence.
Silly ass dame
You Lame plain Jane
Fckng wacked out & insane
Still playin the same game
Even with nothin' to gain
You're the only one to blame
So don't even complain
Sayin you wanna change
But forever stay tha same
Get back in ya in lane!!
Thinkin you so smart
With 3 cells left in ya brain
Dazed out 24/7 from all tha fetty& cocaine
Putting so much faith in hollow promises
That should be taken with a grain
It's like you BEGG for tha pain!!!
Feelin each drop of that acid rain
Burnin through my skin
Down to my skeletal Frame
Tryna act normal & maintain
Ignoring these constant stabbing migraines
Success will never be obtained
Like failure been ingrained
Take every aspect of your life
And rearrange
the past mistakes steady being replayed
Walkin a straight line to Hell
N sht still feel mundane*
The sleepers lie in halls of endless night,
Locked fast in dreams, where memory takes flight
They piece together thoughts from shards of past,
A broken mirror, images that last
The teeth that grind, the words that cut and sting,
Echoes of failures, future sorrows bring
But from the shadows, a defiant call,
"You haven't seen my strength, you haven't seen it all!"
This truth rings out for those who roam and stray,
The rebels, misfits, lost along the way
For scoundrels bold, and those who walk the line,
This is the creed, the truth that will be mine
Confessions whisper, tales of faith betrayed,
By flawed guides, where hollow promises are made—
Imperfect idols, leading souls astray,
But hope remains, to rise and find the day!
I wait for the one who might return someday,
but this "might" deceives me a little more each day,
like a distant song slowly fading in the autumn dusk,
an echo of lost footsteps on the forgotten paths of time.
How long could patience last?
Now I feel that I’ve grown tired of feeding myself with these hollow promises,
like shadows dancing on the walls of an empty room,
where light only sneaks through the cracks of dreams.
If leaving was certain, why leave behind the illusion of staying?
A hope that neither shatters nor comes true,
like a frost flower on the cold window,
melting in the relentless sun of truth.
So yes, I still wait. Perhaps this waiting is nearing its end,
for I am only human, and even I must surrender someday,
like a leaf quietly falling into the river of forgetfulness,
where all the unspoken and lost desires of the heart flow.
The weight has settled, a dull, persistent ache,
Not of a day, nor week, but of a life I make.
A life of struggle, of burdens hard to bear,
A tapestry of hardship woven everywhere.
The camper's walls, a constant, close embrace,
A far cry from the home I'd almost put in place.
Evicted dreams, like ashes in the wind,
A cruel betrayal, leaving wounds that mend...then rend.
My kin I shelter, sons and cousins near,
Their hungry faces, a love I hold so dear.
I feed their bodies, but their spirits crave,
A dignity, a purpose, that I long to save.
My music sleeps, unsung, unbought, unheard,
A silent symphony, a hopeful, whispered word.
The melody of survival, caught in my throat,
As empty pockets mock the dreams I wrote.
No friendly solace, just echoes in the void,
The hollow promises, the joy I've been denied.
I stand alone, a solitary tree,
Stripped bare by storms, for all the world to see.
The epilepsy's dance, a cruel, relentless sway,
It steals my senses, dims the light of day.
Each seizure a reminder of the chains I wear,
A constant battle, a silent, anguished prayer.
I scan the horizon, searching for a sign,
A glimmer of hope, a reason to align
My weary spirit with a strength unknown,
To rise above the mud, and claim a life my own.
Hello my name is David, just wanted to share a little about myself. I am 51 years old my life isn't perfect but who's is. Been writing since I was 10 I am epileptic. I put a lot of time and thought into my work, I also write music. I am disabled so I have a lot of time on my hands. Hope this doesn't disqualify me from contest, if so no hard feelings. Best wishes to my brother and sister poets.
When a boy, I was forced to be a man
To large a task, for someone so small
Still when there is love, you do all you can
A minature adult, not very tall
Doing the job, that I was forced to do
To large a task, for someone so small
Happy memories, there were very few
Life was far from easy, trapped in that place
Doing the job that I was forced to do
All of the sadness, I wish I could erase
Won't give me back the days, the childhood lost
Life was far from easy, trapped in that place
You stole my laughter, forced me to pay the cost
All the hollow promises that you made
Won't give me back the days, the childhood lost
Time to forgive, in the ground you are laid
With the hollow promises you made
When a boy I was forced to be a man
still when there is love, you do all you can