In you, I lost. I lost a lot. Somehow, in you, I lost you. I lost my virtue, my dignity, my sense of self. I lost everything I ever knew. My feelings were absent. My heart melted into oblivion. My smile vanished. The lights went out on my world. Everything was dark and gray. It always felt as if there were a hue over my life. I lost myself in loving you. That pain dug deeper than a knife. I sit and watch. Watch as the lights slowly flicker out of my life. Watch as your light grows brighter as your eyes land on her. How could I be so stupid? Of course it’s her, it’s always been her. She’s tall, with a perfectly proportioned face. Plump, perfect lips. Gorgeous hazel eyes. She’s perfect. Not fat, like me. She’s all he’s ever wanted. I get to sit here and watch. Watch as he grows attached. Watch as she breaks him. Piece by piece, I watch her slowly tear him apart. All I can think is, “You belong with me!” But he loves her. Hands touch, eyes meet… the whole world fades away from him. For me, it’s him. For him, it’s not me. It’s her. It’s always her. In loving him, I lost everything. A friend, a love, warmth, and… Myself.
I crawled and stayed low as I could,
Wanted to be punished for being anything but good. No boundaries in place before I took a walk around the world complete in a block,
Never knew that being human meant being entitled to make mistakes and being a Christian meant worthy of asking forgiveness and sneaking a peak at the people you pass when you are walking isn't too much pride. I deserved everything I got that made me feel like , being a pathetic introvert just gave me the excuse to allow for my eccentricities. Flawed in more ways then one yet unable to pin point the most debilitating one, I chose being trapped in the body of some fat, frumpy whiter then white ill proportioned gal with an akward pigeon toed walk, unsure stare and a damaged heart left to stew in misery. I truly love harder then anyone I've seen...but I never say a w ok rd about it...just hope that someone feels it.
Rb
POEM TO RENEE, MASTER HEALER
Perfectly proportioned Greek goddess
except her philosophies were
somewhat eastern
or eternal
Gold locks alight
magical medicine woman
aflame with Sakara heat
feeds us walnuts
wrapped in dates
Blond lashes thick as a
witches broom
crown holding
vine veins entwined
Serpent spirited
she blows crimson notes
into our stretched out
poignant palms
Dissolve untenable
unfathomable fears !
dissipate sorrows of souls…
silver wing tips of nightingales
come, come, pierce skin
fly far with Masters and
angels into Olympus
of open oracles
Remember Power, balance
peace, ChristLight
Mother Mary, ease
Michael and Chamuel
clapped clanging away
sores sliced ignorance
opened organs
spun wheels
Too urgent, so urgent
forgetting Love is
patient
I did not know
her time was
very near
I am mourning
My Beloved Master
©ghairodanielspoetry&song2000
Does Nox hold sway where you sit or lay,
or stand blanketed in deep fog's clime?
Where perfectly proportioned physical deformity holds
in substantive and coddled awe' sublime.
Shrouded in shot from fusil's beautiful dark pall,
far from heredity's nameless and shameless hall.
We walked as friends, along a stoney ledge
talking of women and lofty soul's reprisal'd pledge.
Wore separate clothes, to separate mothers
we cling'd,
free of our father's shadow at last.
Yet in time..
if your beliefs differ from mine
will you still call me brother?
We are so few since wreck and ruin,
should hate ever.,
take us away one another.
I'd never turn against, you have my word,
no matter the seizur'd absence of mind.
For it held strong our promised bond,
and for it,
prefer neck to the sword.
No crowning achievement in sorrows my truth,
faithful friendship strong as any belief,
more than life it's a simple us I hold to.,
for w'out us there'd be no more we.
the only place one size fits all ~ is the main aisle of the shopping mall
well proportioned heavy or small ~ no pain in the neck if nine feet tall
"All a man really wants, is a girl who looks good in a bikini."
- Jack Freestone
Grounded in gender
A slave to testosterone
Driven by primal feral instinct
Dormant remains our soul
Heart not yet love inked
Now, a girl in a bikini
Who is well proportioned
Is no doubt pleasing to the eye
Yet what’s seen is outer form
Perishable and hence a lie
Let us correct parallax
Looking at spirit, not body
God’s light shines within us all
Mere dust is organic form
Who we are, let’s recall
The question, ‘who am I’
Compels us to look deeper
If we be silent by day and night
We be and so in time become
God’s essence: living light
As the morning light peers in your window
As parallel twines of ray pierce your creamy soft yum
Abandoned and pure she reveals her flawless nature
She turns and turns more as if to settle some score
Legs so proper proportioned stilt and brazen to honor her swaying
A hurricane of passion
Release her chains
Commence the act
Succulent sanctuary
For a trophy of sacrifice
Fantasy and spirit gone wild
She moans and laughs
She shrieks to shatter yet occupy a sunburst fury
We lay as if conquered
Enlighten desires
Sweet sweet chariot of erotic passion
Reward my appetite and healthy conspires
master of preparation
with
pen& brush
latent energy
sparked
by
God
monumental
marvels
proportioned
in genius
marbled magnificence
of dimensional
delight
sensuality immortalised
in the
visual
the tactile
imagination
contexualised
in
contemplation
of the truth
of
salvation&
resurrected life
to come
to be
I used to be teen suicide, less full of myself
to wonder a future unknown borrowing a want
of perfection in strength of movement, a posture of
glazed movement, gymnastic skills of love, purposeful of
thought tone---surprised I excelled in most, tried in
some and failed in those anonymous a few--my lone
physicality set the stage for a mistress lover of handstand
entrees in, on above all objects where I could pose upside
down and see the reverse of an earthly life based on age
appropriate conventions of and age remembered life to
recourse a yonder youth in all its wonderment, fallibility
of domestico-initiation and socio-training to be up/down
cool/nerdy pain/pleasured and thus True/False primed and
Squared by ritual sacrifices of an impermanent unsolved self--
where do you really begin, endure? and end with the means
to justify your end as to the forever prone promises tendered
in creating a dulled existence for a what purpose?
Charity begins within your Heart of Hearts all leading to a
proportioned infinity of reality living and lights of Love.
Society's standard are made of girls who starve themselves to the bone
Skinny, well proportioned and toned
Pretty princesses who look like they belong on a throne
But I'm not one of those things
Society's standards are perfect models
Big boobs and big butts
Able to strut with their head held high
But once again, I am none of those things
I want to be able to look at myself in the mirror
I want to be able to eat and not feel disgusting
I want to feel like I'm someone worth it
I want to be society's standard
A hand of sand in spectrum of flow of time,
ministering thoughts by simple pantomime.
So many sand-curies it has been,
and dessert hills moved gently keen.
Caravans slow vicissitude by blow of wind,
seasick on a camel ride pinned.
Motion rise and sink in endless obscure,
sensuous dunes proportioned contour.
Wandering aimless not by imagination,
creating landscapes of ancient preparation.
Illumed wilderness same same horizon,
only more sand for pilgrimage compromising.
The oasis coming in confident of fate,
to resolute the heart before it is to late.
Have we passed that shimmering crystal tower?
coming closer to the counting passing hour.
Gazing up and escaping these narrow walls,
the shifting sand and its sustaining falls.
This little golden thread dilate into column plain,
pursuing my thoughts regardless the time in vain.
A world too small for times in loving ponder,
timeless appreciation and all its precious wonder.
The Tangled Flower Garden
The garden, so meticulously planted,
Enriched with mulch, and carefully proportioned,
Pleases the eye with colour and assortment
But resorts to chaos when left unattended.
Nature abhors the hand’s uniformity,
Demanding a mess of the plurality.
Each species struggles for dominance to survive
(Between plant and weed or whatever else one finds)
For nutrients and sunlight to bloom and attract bees
For pollination and propagation of its kind.
The apple tree’s branches shade the jungle below
(Which is littered with various flowers and growths)
From the elements, essential for their survival
In the tangled flower garden environment.
Hey, I'm in no position, to pre-judge or undermine
What beggars my thoughts, just what do others find
Hey, look out today's windows, pray tell me what you see
Is it the World of forty years ago, I don't think so for me
Hey, where has it all gone wrong, whether your Islam or another
Just maybe Islamist countries, needed the West to discover
Hey, tolerance has probably bitten, just where's our resources
Or even the proportioned profits, is it horses for courses
Hey, with predominant factions growing, having their say
It looks like the West has festered, their modernists display
Hey, especially to this day, have the fundamentalists sight
Have we gone beyond before, and we find nobody is right!
Hey, look where this has lead us, incredible as it sounds
Simply hatred unknown forty years ago, by who's Devils Hand.
I drained life of its fullness...
not pricing its worthiness,
leaving nicks in the prime of youth:
deceitful tricks to ignore every truth.
I imitated parody to conceal identity,
thus making it forgery my priority;
and the masked nobleman acted out his
infamous burlesque play, ridiculing Fay...
knowing that her unrhymed lines
were intently borrowed from clowns,
not from gifted writers with clever minds;
did they bray when they were blamed for the delay?
My intent was not a merited Godsent or lofty thought
perceived by a gladiator who held the wilt
of his sword proportioned to his solid built,
but rather ridden by a guilt which had a powerful force to jilt
me when I was reduced to tears by my peers for my peculiar tilt.
Written on 12/12/2016
Why are you looking so ?
A sketch of fear in your eyes,
An atlas of filthiness on your face,
No sheath in your body.
Nail-teeth wounds of beast
In your breasts, navel,
Even in the courtyard of your wild desire !
Like a withered flower
yellow saree is thrown wrinkled
Beneath your well-proportioned thigh.
Your petal shaped lips seem poisonous,
Wounds of stings visible in your cheeks !
A leaf falls from a young silk-cotton tree !
Tremor everywhere,
Everywhere lamentation of pain
Life-creeper dried up in the central sky,
You are distressed, isolated.
Have you settled up your worldly life
In the mansion of sins ?
What’s this silence
In your empty hands ?
How many times you have returned
Perhaps you know not !
But there’s touch of your finger tips
In leaves, in flowers, in evergreen forests !
I’m with you like your shadow
I’ve kept a sharpened sword always raised
you can’t speak it aloud !
When I held my trivial desires
Think to surrender my heart
in your hands, my damsel –
As much beautiful as you may be,
I never ever feel your proximity
In drunken stormy nights.
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