Submissions by ExercisingDemons
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
whats up 2024
Throughts Dribblin'
#anxiety
12 reads
2 Comments
Scanning
Mans' is to plant toes in sand,
unfurl fist from hand, hitch
to any wave that waves back
and hope it's foam soul
consists of nutritious bits and plans.
Wade and hope for wet walls of fish
spraying mist that turns
any dime or dollar ditched for wish to splashes tall and grand.
Off shore because you miss
being drenched in droplets
you once dropped off of
that insist on flowing along long
and glistening strands
to distant lands.
Hop on and hope you've not been tricked
by ship...
unfurl fist from hand, hitch
to any wave that waves back
and hope it's foam soul
consists of nutritious bits and plans.
Wade and hope for wet walls of fish
spraying mist that turns
any dime or dollar ditched for wish to splashes tall and grand.
Off shore because you miss
being drenched in droplets
you once dropped off of
that insist on flowing along long
and glistening strands
to distant lands.
Hop on and hope you've not been tricked
by ship...
#sea
#beach
#sky
106 reads
0 Comments
fun.. in the sun
Maybe I should mix it up and try to write something fun,
maybe I should wrap it up and wither in scorching sun,
as I slither through thoughts, I'm not seeing many shimmering,
only wrinkled and broken. Chipped paint on wooden horses,
I hold a torch to hieroglyphs written on cracks in porcelain,
mask of the tortured wearer, waxing the masters porches,
hoping one day I learn karate and can attack, after I smash your doors in.
Too rich, too long, I see a basilisk basking. I sing this song
as I axe the torso for more skin,
the flesh I crave, it's time...
maybe I should wrap it up and wither in scorching sun,
as I slither through thoughts, I'm not seeing many shimmering,
only wrinkled and broken. Chipped paint on wooden horses,
I hold a torch to hieroglyphs written on cracks in porcelain,
mask of the tortured wearer, waxing the masters porches,
hoping one day I learn karate and can attack, after I smash your doors in.
Too rich, too long, I see a basilisk basking. I sing this song
as I axe the torso for more skin,
the flesh I crave, it's time...
#dark
#boredom
173 reads
0 Comments
Plans on a Chalkboard
Happiness, pain, pride and anger
coincide with my being alive
and I walk in stride with many strangers
through meadows and dark roads filled
with danger, where birds fly, toads sit
and livestock seek mangled mangers.
Coming from where thinly veiled smoke screens
surround 5 hands fitting to wager.
Three men, the second with half his body
out the door, unsure if he's ready for this stage of
his life, faking going outside to respond to a beep
on his pager. Kings, jacks, queens,
the chips are getting major,
I'd smoke with...
coincide with my being alive
and I walk in stride with many strangers
through meadows and dark roads filled
with danger, where birds fly, toads sit
and livestock seek mangled mangers.
Coming from where thinly veiled smoke screens
surround 5 hands fitting to wager.
Three men, the second with half his body
out the door, unsure if he's ready for this stage of
his life, faking going outside to respond to a beep
on his pager. Kings, jacks, queens,
the chips are getting major,
I'd smoke with...
#TruthOfLife
236 reads
0 Comments
Empty Holster
I think I've lost my sense of self,
no conniving inner monologue persisting,
maybe that's a good thing
is what societies insisting.
But I kinda miss ill wishes
behind eyes glistening and near misses,
when I've spoken hiding concealed fists
I've only dismissed as reality hits me.
Now I'm not sure that I even get me..
Empty headed, not a lot of new paint
tends to stick to this pallet,
the old is wearing thin, throat scorched
and singed from singing the same old ballads.
I'm stuck, dumb as a truck,
now I see my old...
no conniving inner monologue persisting,
maybe that's a good thing
is what societies insisting.
But I kinda miss ill wishes
behind eyes glistening and near misses,
when I've spoken hiding concealed fists
I've only dismissed as reality hits me.
Now I'm not sure that I even get me..
Empty headed, not a lot of new paint
tends to stick to this pallet,
the old is wearing thin, throat scorched
and singed from singing the same old ballads.
I'm stuck, dumb as a truck,
now I see my old...
#emptiness
238 reads
0 Comments
How to fill a page
What's the point of a pencil
when the holder is empty?
Finger tips squeezing yellow paint
until it chips off and cold wood resents me.
I'm not sure where my sharp sense be,
it's an artistic winter I'm sensing.
Bottled up to the point of preventing even
a single drop from being unpacked where my pen be.
I'm punching the page and it's not even denting.
I wagered my woes unrelenting,
now I've got none of those but
worry over whittled erasers friends sent me
and a sharpener blade bending,
I'm not one for pretending but ...
when the holder is empty?
Finger tips squeezing yellow paint
until it chips off and cold wood resents me.
I'm not sure where my sharp sense be,
it's an artistic winter I'm sensing.
Bottled up to the point of preventing even
a single drop from being unpacked where my pen be.
I'm punching the page and it's not even denting.
I wagered my woes unrelenting,
now I've got none of those but
worry over whittled erasers friends sent me
and a sharpener blade bending,
I'm not one for pretending but ...
#rhyming
167 reads
0 Comments
Check it
That ego trippin, thinkin that you're bigger than life, like night skies only
get by,
are illuminated by words that you write.
The deserts formed by your drifting thoughts
Tsunami insights.
A peasant in flashy clothes,
painting pictures, stitched with
the pleasures of smashing hoes,
the green cash, and sacred treasure stashed below,
a castle called a home
a storm cloud where you roam,
the prints you leave in snow,
the pain your heart...
get by,
are illuminated by words that you write.
The deserts formed by your drifting thoughts
Tsunami insights.
A peasant in flashy clothes,
painting pictures, stitched with
the pleasures of smashing hoes,
the green cash, and sacred treasure stashed below,
a castle called a home
a storm cloud where you roam,
the prints you leave in snow,
the pain your heart...
#faith
270 reads
0 Comments
322
Every story needs an ending,
mine I'm struggling to write.
Been on this path so long
I want to get it right. I want
my song to take flight, be a star
in the night, to ease any
gentle dreamers,
lest they wake in the night.
May my words hold power
to do some good,
to turn parched seeds to
radiant flowers, weeds
and trees made of the sturdiest wood.
You always seemed to
deem that I would,
my soul so diseased,
to try, may be to poison
minds, I wasn't sure that
I should.
I'd hate to...
mine I'm struggling to write.
Been on this path so long
I want to get it right. I want
my song to take flight, be a star
in the night, to ease any
gentle dreamers,
lest they wake in the night.
May my words hold power
to do some good,
to turn parched seeds to
radiant flowers, weeds
and trees made of the sturdiest wood.
You always seemed to
deem that I would,
my soul so diseased,
to try, may be to poison
minds, I wasn't sure that
I should.
I'd hate to...
#LifeGoals
306 reads
0 Comments
Light
I've lost some passion to the casket
where I've abandoned my flask.
Now I'm tasked with finding new
suns to bask in, for now I can barely
get a match lit, they say this will pass.
The night that never ends, well I guess
it depends. I could learn to adapt
or get a new pen, one that glows in the
dark perhaps, or one from a friend.
Maybe one off a pal so at least I could
send good wishes and late kisses
to those who defend
me while
I'm at my worst, practising curses
in the...
where I've abandoned my flask.
Now I'm tasked with finding new
suns to bask in, for now I can barely
get a match lit, they say this will pass.
The night that never ends, well I guess
it depends. I could learn to adapt
or get a new pen, one that glows in the
dark perhaps, or one from a friend.
Maybe one off a pal so at least I could
send good wishes and late kisses
to those who defend
me while
I'm at my worst, practising curses
in the...
#TimeHeals
422 reads
3 Comments
Rainy day
Wrought be the lily returning to old soil
Knowing it's embedded with sewage, waste and oil.
Bought be any lily, linked to grey chain
Freedom a breeze away, eternal heathen
pleading for some pain.
Doomed be the flower staring at it's feet.
Seeing, feeling, breathing gloom in showers,
not thinking of the parched seeds.
Sometimes wishing higher power to depart me
from all these earthly matters,
too caught up in what my heart sees.
Get over this sad sac, become
what my art be.
Feed me to some harpies, ...
Knowing it's embedded with sewage, waste and oil.
Bought be any lily, linked to grey chain
Freedom a breeze away, eternal heathen
pleading for some pain.
Doomed be the flower staring at it's feet.
Seeing, feeling, breathing gloom in showers,
not thinking of the parched seeds.
Sometimes wishing higher power to depart me
from all these earthly matters,
too caught up in what my heart sees.
Get over this sad sac, become
what my art be.
Feed me to some harpies, ...
#forest
327 reads
4 Comments
Just Sad
Not going too well, got wisdom to share, everybody tell me go to hell
#loneliness
#despair
#boredom
355 reads
2 Comments
Where I Stand
How deep into space am I intimate with?
How far into time do I respect?
Which nations' pasts do I admire?
Whom do I love?
What kind of god am I?
How far into time do I respect?
Which nations' pasts do I admire?
Whom do I love?
What kind of god am I?
#universe
346 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by ExercisingDemons