First DUP Poem

"Chains of Destiny"

bound by
the chains of destiny
i ask of you
do i see
what lies in front of me
am i blind
i ask of thee
to please save me
from which
i am bound
my arms are going numb
i feel hatred
coming from somewhere
im not sure
what this means
but i am bound
by the chains
of destiny
thorn covered
chains
carring the hate
of others
bund by this
same destiny

Consummation


eyes worm  

bubbles glow  

synapses sparkle  

retina bleeds  

imagination blooms  
as life kicks in  
at the caesura  
of the small naval  
counterpointing  
the serrated comma  

the womb sings  
an opus of fulfillment  
soul dances on tiptoes  
as the body becomes  
a collage  
of the collective immediacy  
of emotions  

it is the seamless beyond  
of senses  
a gamma burst of white  

superlative
 

When I'm Not Here

What does my flat do
When I'm out at work all day?
Does the sunlight filtering through the dust
Charm my cheap guitar to play?
What of the hallway, long and austere,
Does it play the coquette and laugh too loud
When I'm not here?
What about the carpets
When there's no-one walking around,
Surely they conspire with the floorboards
To make some kind of sound?
The plants stand still - or seem to -
Whenever they catch my eye,
But I bet they shake and rustle
As they hear my footsteps die...
Air, shadow, silence
Is it really like that for ten hours?
The distant slam of a door,
The gradual dying of flowers?
How does my flat stand the boredom
Of waiting till I reappear?
Can the world really get on without us
When we're simply
No longer
Here?

PUPPET STRINGS

take your hand
 
stick it up my ass
 
make my mouth move
 
after all thats how puppets do
 
 
 
pull my strings, make me walk
 
hand up my ass, make me talk
 
make me say and do anything you want
 
your little puppet on a string
 
don''t matter what i want
 
or what i think
 
 
 
 
"obey me when i pull your strings
 
say what i want you to
 
your not allowed to think"
 
 
 
pull my strings with you hand up my ass
 
a walking talking puppet mess
 
i got more control than what i think
 
that was said to me
 
if thats the case
 
why can''t i get off these puppet strings?
 
 
 
if i could get off these puppet strings
 
would i be able to think
 
could i stand on my own
 
would i be able to speak
 
would i be left in a pile of puppet mess
 
left on stage for everyone to laugh
 
 
 
riding life out on puppet strings
 
not liking it or anything

Druid

Settled atop a scabrous stone, rippled with mossy strands
Weathered coarse throughout aeons of shepherding travelers
I perch, a progeny of the vast woodlands
It is here I inspire, the cartographer’s eidetic recollection
The artist’s dexterous finesse, and the bard’s merry wit
As I have performed for those lost in essence
A breeze sails in on wings of articulation  
And I catch the whispers of the deep Autumn zephyr
Many by the birds, in the arias they sing to me
But certainly none astray amidst Her sheltered domain
Stolen away beneath cultivating sunlight
Apollo’s glow cast overhead, chasing warmth into my roots
Providing me with an illustrious landscape view
Ornamental patterns dodge through layered scales of leaves
Only to paint their shaken brethren upon the forest floor
With soft white centers and flourished gold borders
And the rhythmic cadence of water in ribbons through valleys of sand
Where fish leisurely flow downstream on the current
Where I bide something of my time
Such as many another, contributing their own ambience    
The regal pace of the stag entwined with gentle eyes  
Goes unbroken upon my reveal, my contrast undisguised  
We are all akin to Her mind’s eye model
I am a child of Her design, with knots and dashes etched into my skin
Unyielding and vigorous since my dawning here
For now and tomorrow, without evermore
For the birds will continue their melodies, and many others will hearten
The likes of the cartographer, the artist, and the bard
But when I cease, they will never find another of me

Last Night

Last Night...I dreamed of you.
Now understand.... that this dream was nothing
Nice ... or sweet. This dream was all Lust passion, and
Heat....

I dreamed of you.. taking me....with your hands... lips
and tongue... holding me hostage burning trails down my thighs
Hot like the Sun...and I let you...
I wanted you... I needed you to whisper filthy things in my ear
As you tied my wrist.....and tilted my hips.... to reach your lips

I had no fear....as you left wet trails with your tongue over my womanhood... I parted my legs for you like the intrance to Nirvahna
Had just been opened

Yes..... I dreamed of you last night.....
as I arched my back from the waves of pleasure you filled me with
As you made me cum to new heights ..... I knew this was a gift...

Then you smiled at me and said that you knew the language of my soul....as you entered me.... Long thick and deep with each stroke
you broke me down... Till I was thanking God for the way you fucked me for the way you communicated with  me..........Soulfully.... and complete leaving no sensual stone unturned.....

Alas,....comes the morning light... and I am weak... drenched wet in my sheets.....all because of you ..... when I dreamed Last Night.

Oh God this was so bad. I think I was trying to be deep -.-

Awaken All The Dreamers
My neck feels bare, my skin so raw but like a dream only I can wake
Touch the edge to my wrist while the skin's still there
When six melts to three know that I'll be here
A voice in my ear speaks to me on my way there, helping me to block out the others
My abstract tells a story, my story's all the same,
look closely and you'll understand Still my neck's bare,
But when the flame goes to sleep and the ice comes out to play, on the flesh my head will rest
What's the point of time when we only wish it back?
What's the point of life, when we only live to die?
Falling now my answer is clear, I've always been asleep
Now only deeper, there's a point where it's too late
Let no one tell you otherwise, but, let the dreamers see me wake
Only then will the sun rest
May the dreamers wake shortly after, standing where time has no meaning
Swimming in a sea of selfish emotions, drying off the remnants of a past life Here I am reborn
Short is time when it's measured, but an eternity will have us still
Letting the moon kiss your cheek but the sun too much to bare
Waiting for that month to come ending now the one we're in
Waiting for the sun to come, pushing all the clouds away
Still my skin's alone, left feeling exposed
Waking now the ones still dreaming only when the sun has fallen
Close your eyes and pray for heaven, these hopeful words to pass your lips
The moon among the men of summer
The sun the friend of frigid winter
Close your eyes come back home now, wake up all you dreamers

Lifes Perilous Game

What’s the point in a purpose of life,
When all of life’s ventures seem to end in life’s strife.

What is reality
And what is a dream,
Is there morality
In what can be seen.

Do you have any choice in life’s deadly game,
Is there any way to get you fortune and fame,
Or is all that lies there sorrow and shame,
That’s the great question of life’s perilous game.

Nobody knows.

The bleeding stops
your breath starts to slow
and the bad thing is
nobody knows.

You're all alone
nobody there
and the worst thing is
nobody cares.

you lay there pale
cant even choke out a word
that must explain
how you went unheard.

the cuts on your arm
they were made so clean
that had to be why
nobody seen.


I have currently written 165 poems. this..was my first.. hope you like it

Um my first poem is extremely disturbing is that allowed on here? lol I don't wanna traumatize anyone you know lol.

She sat by the shadows,
Under the rain,
No one noticed,
No one knew her pain.
 
Day after day,
She suffered alone,
From her ghostly pale lips,
She smothered a moan.
 
Gritting her teeth,
She faced the cold,
She dwelt in the darkness,
She had no where to go.
 
Just standing there,
For the darkness to take,
She almost stopped breathing,
Her life is at stake.
 
A few moments left,
Her memories flashed by,
She was dying, no doubt,
Its time to say goodbye.
 
The twilight in her eyes,
The dawn in his,
She had given up,
While the world was his.
 
He watched the sun rise,
And bathed in all its glory,
Never had it crossed his mind,
A single thought of misery.
 
A lifetime of happiness,
Had past them by,
His memories, though, were stolen,
If he knew, he'd rather die.
 
Lost in time,
In a floating world,
Endless dreams,
Drift and tear at the seams.
 
They both made a choice,
To die in their own way,
One cloaked in shadows,
The other kept at bay.
 
She chose her memories,
And suffered pure pain,
He chose to feel nothing,
And had forgotten his way.
 
In your opinion,
Which was more tragic?
To live with no meaning?
Or die by candle wick?

kush

put to flame and curling

kaneh-bosem anoints my lungs,
traces maps on my fingers
and wets my spirit in greeting.

so fine is she
so purple kushy
so indulgent in warm embrace...

closer I sway

father across the plane...
prayerful
in sudden lust

...and the tanglements never fade,
illuminated memories in twilight.

unbidden,
yet not unwelcome
bellydancing in the rhythm of unseen life...

no pain in their intoxication
no silence in their mirage;

just a piece of me, torn from you
and set aside.

Operation: Filth Removal


A half day of labor, a half day of sleep
Split by a scalpel designed to slice deep
Blood gushes out and it runs down my skin
I’m opened up while the surgeon digs in

Deeply infected, but feeling no pain
Just a warm numbness that’s keeping me sane
The culprit removed from under my skin
Leaving a mess of my liquid crimson

Prepared to be stitched, cleaned up and wiped down
My flesh being pierced, I don’t hear a sound
She covers the wound and I am set free
Filth was deleted from inside of me

The wound left

The wound left by the blade of steel bleeds out as she lies head in hand.
Wondering why her once seemingly perfect life took such a terrible stand.
She cries every night craving what her old, perfect life used to hold.
Her friends, her smile, her family, her unbreakable stronghold.
Her heart is broken by the one who she thought she loved more then anything.
He took her heart, her trust and her love and threw it away, now her wrists are aching.
Her love he threw away was all that had kept her safe, kept her alive.
Now without the feeling of being cared for she can’t find a reason to survive.
She wants to live, she really does but, without his love she doesn’t see the appeal.
Any way out, any plan for escape she can’t find anything to do, this seems unreal.
Her world spiraling out of control as she just makes another blood covered line.
She didn’t know all of this would happen when he left, she figured she’d be fine.
But, without his love and affection her life that used to be perfect was now pointless.
She didn’t know anything would come out of her blood red marks, she figured it was harmless.
You try telling her they’re harmless now as she lies dead, six feet underneath the ground.
She was crying out, screaming at the world, just hoping to be noticed, hoping to be found.
Her “harmless” cuts were just the begining, they let her depression consume her.
If only someone had heard her cries out for help, maybe her life would’ve ended better.
All because he didn’t love her back, he didn’t feel the same emotions that she lived on.
She took those emotions way to far, she sacrificed her life over this one person being gone.
She love him so much but, He never knew all of the pain that she went through.
He didn’t know how much she cared, he never could see how he had made her new.
She loved him with her whole heart, but love doesn’t get translated from the grave.
If only she would have held on if only she wouldn’t have given in and caved.
She would be alive, happy and maybe even in his arms if she hadnt made that cut.
After that her life wasn’t happy or better or anything, infact it was anything but.

well that's pretty easy since I'm new here

First

i carved it
with a compass point
the little pinkie-nail sized symbol  
a chinese letter meaning 'innocent'
on my white, white
inner wrist skin
& then another
meaning 'wolf'
 
how bloody naïve of me
 
you see back then
i didn't know
when you scratch subcutaneous fat
you can see the veins
like the stringy red
you pick from chicken fillets
and with the silver point
you can pluck
and poke
and think yourself a master of self-sculpture
 
 
 
but that doesn't matter now
i'm tired of all the games
 
i ran with the wolf pack
but they left me behind
 
i'm not innocent now
no i'm not innocent
 
& my body's not a poem