Submissions by Eerie
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction “Creation which cannot express itself becomes madness" ~Anais Nin
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
27th Oct 2020 10:13pm
27th Oct 2020 10:13pm
{Separate}
The question of sociopathy
hung like heavy doors,
weathered and misshapen, hinges
slightly buckled.
Crippled compassion chose to
hide itself in a dark
cloak shrugged from the
shoulders of a diseased mind.
One lie thrust upon another
raped what was left- she
crawled through her window
of separate self.
The total of empathy was
a curious quotient; ...
hung like heavy doors,
weathered and misshapen, hinges
slightly buckled.
Crippled compassion chose to
hide itself in a dark
cloak shrugged from the
shoulders of a diseased mind.
One lie thrust upon another
raped what was left- she
crawled through her window
of separate self.
The total of empathy was
a curious quotient; ...
#identity
#rebirth
#RabindranathTagore
47 reads
11 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
25th Oct 2020 5:10pm
25th Oct 2020 5:10pm
Beloved
In conscious moments, my fabric is forgotten;
the spirit is no longer fine within me. I am nothing,
dust of the earth, fashioned by the One who blew life
into this soul- what have I to offer? These hands are
empty, this heart is broken, my eyes have fallen away
in tides of deceit; I've abandoned the one true Love.
It is in my house of foolish affliction that I hear Your still
voice, and a yearning for grace washes over me.
Divinity does not ask for ascetic actions. The asking
is of love and goodwill, truth and courage....
the spirit is no longer fine within me. I am nothing,
dust of the earth, fashioned by the One who blew life
into this soul- what have I to offer? These hands are
empty, this heart is broken, my eyes have fallen away
in tides of deceit; I've abandoned the one true Love.
It is in my house of foolish affliction that I hear Your still
voice, and a yearning for grace washes over me.
Divinity does not ask for ascetic actions. The asking
is of love and goodwill, truth and courage....
#love
#spiritual
#RabindranathTagore
85 reads
19 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
25th Oct 2020 3:43am
25th Oct 2020 3:43am
Under a Blood Moon
Visual #werewolves
#moon
#werewolves
58 reads
14 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
24th Oct 2020 00:53am
24th Oct 2020 00:53am
Morning Light
In the morning I sit
with my singing bowl,
cupped in palm, and
begin the circular movement
'round the outside rim.
Vibration travels through
the arm, into the chest
and down the spine.
I am a vessel
of love and light-
I am whole.
with my singing bowl,
cupped in palm, and
begin the circular movement
'round the outside rim.
Vibration travels through
the arm, into the chest
and down the spine.
I am a vessel
of love and light-
I am whole.
#happiness
#hope
#morning
#spiritual
#healing
60 reads
14 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
19th Oct 2020 11:50pm
19th Oct 2020 11:50pm
Mycelium
It bursts through my brain; a
network of brilliant growth
radiating from my crown.
Bright lights and searing sounds
vibrating throughout my body,
clearing a way for the creation
of new and connected pathways-
healing thoughts and beliefs
that draw the heart into darkness.
A heightened level of
consciousness allows the soul
direct commune with the Divine.
In this altered state I have
found the child that I lost in the
years of arduous...
network of brilliant growth
radiating from my crown.
Bright lights and searing sounds
vibrating throughout my body,
clearing a way for the creation
of new and connected pathways-
healing thoughts and beliefs
that draw the heart into darkness.
A heightened level of
consciousness allows the soul
direct commune with the Divine.
In this altered state I have
found the child that I lost in the
years of arduous...
#love
#spiritual
#healing
115 reads
24 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
9th Oct 2020 8:24pm
9th Oct 2020 8:24pm
Free Calls to God
I've thought a lot about it
over the past twenty years.
Somewhere in the midst
of a wool blanket pulled
out to pasture, and your
muddy socks strewn halfway
to midday, I found the
meaning of my anxiety.
It wasn't so much the dirt
making heliocentric circles
around the glossy brown,
no-wax finish; it was
your disregard for
knowledge and the
pursuit of something that
hung so low you could have
picked it without a ladder.
I spent too many days
wrapped up in words that
never...
over the past twenty years.
Somewhere in the midst
of a wool blanket pulled
out to pasture, and your
muddy socks strewn halfway
to midday, I found the
meaning of my anxiety.
It wasn't so much the dirt
making heliocentric circles
around the glossy brown,
no-wax finish; it was
your disregard for
knowledge and the
pursuit of something that
hung so low you could have
picked it without a ladder.
I spent too many days
wrapped up in words that
never...
#relationships
#conflict
#abuse #God
#abuse #God
136 reads
21 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
9th Oct 2020 1:54am
9th Oct 2020 1:54am
*Sigh*
I am just a girl-
Screaming at her printer;
THERE IS NO FUCKING PAPER JAM!
Screaming at her printer;
THERE IS NO FUCKING PAPER JAM!
#anger
#frustration
80 reads
28 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
6th Oct 2020 5:49pm
6th Oct 2020 5:49pm
Indifference
How am I to comprehend you
in a Sunday suit, your starched pinstripe
feigning virtue while you sweat buckets
in a pair of patent leather sin.
I cannot pretend what it is you need
under this silky black magnitude
of ruffled disappointment.
Requirements for tip toeing around
what the bedroom represents has
buried me in guilt.
There is never enough
courage to slip into irreverent
contours, your dusty fingertips grazing
mangled, canyon depressions and
craggy pink...
in a Sunday suit, your starched pinstripe
feigning virtue while you sweat buckets
in a pair of patent leather sin.
I cannot pretend what it is you need
under this silky black magnitude
of ruffled disappointment.
Requirements for tip toeing around
what the bedroom represents has
buried me in guilt.
There is never enough
courage to slip into irreverent
contours, your dusty fingertips grazing
mangled, canyon depressions and
craggy pink...
#TruthOfLife
#honesty
#disappointment #AiOgwaga
#disappointment #AiOgwaga
101 reads
19 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
1st Oct 2020 7:30pm
1st Oct 2020 7:30pm
Vapor
My muse holds me
Down in the darkest
Of night, stealing
My breath, my words,
My life. And in the cool,
Autumn night, she
Expels the essence
Of my ghostly, green light.
Down in the darkest
Of night, stealing
My breath, my words,
My life. And in the cool,
Autumn night, she
Expels the essence
Of my ghostly, green light.
#dark
#death
#night #MyInspiration
#night #MyInspiration
97 reads
13 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
30th Sep 2020 2:13pm
30th Sep 2020 2:13pm
The Big Top (Grindhouse Style)
#dark
94 reads
26 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
26th Sep 2020 5:16pm
26th Sep 2020 5:16pm
Alone, In a Booth
I do this sometimes-
Sit in a booth, alone with
My own thoughts;
No forced conversations or
Nervous fidgeting,
Sitting with this cup
of warm sweater-
Ice cold mornings
Sipping until I’ve
Overstayed,
But never annoyed
That you want to
Eat and leave.
What happened to
Staying for dessert-
For conversation-
For laughs.
Sit in a booth, alone with
My own thoughts;
No forced conversations or
Nervous fidgeting,
Sitting with this cup
of warm sweater-
Ice cold mornings
Sipping until I’ve
Overstayed,
But never annoyed
That you want to
Eat and leave.
What happened to
Staying for dessert-
For conversation-
For laughs.
#silence
#peace
#food
#dialogue
#myself
102 reads
17 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
23rd Sep 2020 00:01am
23rd Sep 2020 00:01am
A Dark War
I know a man with camouflaged
mind, gun-stock resting somewhere
between lies of patriarchal privilege
and the body of a dead
child, marred by indiscretions of
lesser men. Miniature legs
and arms spilled over assumed
lines drawn in thick heat of desert
swarm, heaved with heavy heart to the
doorstep of a farmer, a father, a man
with no recourse; nothing but unfathomable
grief and a rake to shake in the
face of God. Democracy, a
misapplied ideation...
mind, gun-stock resting somewhere
between lies of patriarchal privilege
and the body of a dead
child, marred by indiscretions of
lesser men. Miniature legs
and arms spilled over assumed
lines drawn in thick heat of desert
swarm, heaved with heavy heart to the
doorstep of a farmer, a father, a man
with no recourse; nothing but unfathomable
grief and a rake to shake in the
face of God. Democracy, a
misapplied ideation...
#grief
#conflict
#war
#morality
#AliceFulton
131 reads
23 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Eerie
