Submissions by runningturtle87
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
If it's not intimate, what's the point?......................
EROTIC POEM
Published
3rd Jul 2012 1:04am
3rd Jul 2012 1:04am
Meditation
On every level
of the ancient realms,
they made sacred love,
entering by the ear
and mind
the ministry of station,
the stupa whose
notions dispelled
and then wafted away
the material,
the maya,
the illusions
of differences,
and then,
and when
all semblance
of attachment
had reached the last rung,
the blissful blossom
dropped,
and the stream
they entered
was neither
here nor there
but instead
a droplet
of pure honey.
runningturtle87
of the ancient realms,
they made sacred love,
entering by the ear
and mind
the ministry of station,
the stupa whose
notions dispelled
and then wafted away
the material,
the maya,
the illusions
of differences,
and then,
and when
all semblance
of attachment
had reached the last rung,
the blissful blossom
dropped,
and the stream
they entered
was neither
here nor there
but instead
a droplet
of pure honey.
runningturtle87
869 reads
8 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
2nd Jul 2012 11:41am
2nd Jul 2012 11:41am
Immortality
Through every point
an endless array
of lines can be drawn
and just so
in the multiverse
of the quantum
expression,
the myriad definitions
of life
as we know it
unfold to consume
the spaces
we've yet
to endure.
And etched
on the droplets
of water therein
are the life forced drama
of human remains,
the elemental recordings
of our heart beats
and somber intentions.
The echoes then
of what we once loved,
the shadowy figures,
and the broken down dreams,
all of the hopes
and...
an endless array
of lines can be drawn
and just so
in the multiverse
of the quantum
expression,
the myriad definitions
of life
as we know it
unfold to consume
the spaces
we've yet
to endure.
And etched
on the droplets
of water therein
are the life forced drama
of human remains,
the elemental recordings
of our heart beats
and somber intentions.
The echoes then
of what we once loved,
the shadowy figures,
and the broken down dreams,
all of the hopes
and...
638 reads
2 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
1st Jul 2012 9:28pm
1st Jul 2012 9:28pm
101
How many times
can you point it out
before it becomes
a fetish?
Fat
Ignorance
Breast Enhancement
Legs
Hypocrisy
Welfare
Hippies
Whores
The Rich
Movie Stars
Drug Abuse
Poverty
Humiliation
Abuse
Gays
Shoes
6 Pack Abs
Muscle Cars
Wealth
Tattoos
Superiority
Warfare
Bikinis
Stability
Fashion
Retirement
Sports
Nutrition
Ownership
Politics
Righteousness
Religion
Behavior
Piercings
Poetry
The White Picket Fence
Health
and other...
can you point it out
before it becomes
a fetish?
Fat
Ignorance
Breast Enhancement
Legs
Hypocrisy
Welfare
Hippies
Whores
The Rich
Movie Stars
Drug Abuse
Poverty
Humiliation
Abuse
Gays
Shoes
6 Pack Abs
Muscle Cars
Wealth
Tattoos
Superiority
Warfare
Bikinis
Stability
Fashion
Retirement
Sports
Nutrition
Ownership
Politics
Righteousness
Religion
Behavior
Piercings
Poetry
The White Picket Fence
Health
and other...
725 reads
3 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
1st Jul 2012 9:15pm
1st Jul 2012 9:15pm
Red Letter
What we would
rather think
if we had a heart
to think such a thing
as that we are no worse
nor any better
than anyone else,
but then our minds
get in the way
of what we are feeling,
and our thoughts
get clouded
with the ruminations
of our insecurities
and the next thing
we know, we have
created a religion out
of our fears.
Why don't we
let go?
Why do we
always expect
others to let go first?
Why can't we
allow that life
is not made up
of secure moments
but rather...
rather think
if we had a heart
to think such a thing
as that we are no worse
nor any better
than anyone else,
but then our minds
get in the way
of what we are feeling,
and our thoughts
get clouded
with the ruminations
of our insecurities
and the next thing
we know, we have
created a religion out
of our fears.
Why don't we
let go?
Why do we
always expect
others to let go first?
Why can't we
allow that life
is not made up
of secure moments
but rather...
733 reads
1 Comment
EROTIC POEM
Published
29th Jun 2012 10:18pm
29th Jun 2012 10:18pm
Xchool for Sex….
Down and up
the aisles
and in parallel
she stalked me
through the slit
in her bangs
every time I looked up
she was there,
and I walked
to the end
of the aisle
again
and she had
walked around
the other end
and cut me off
and meant to meet me
and stood next to me
breathing
and panting
like a large cat
unnerving and racing
and I was only
just so
and she had that look
and I wanted her
to want me
to talk to her
but I was incapable
of uttering a word
for fear ...
the aisles
and in parallel
she stalked me
through the slit
in her bangs
every time I looked up
she was there,
and I walked
to the end
of the aisle
again
and she had
walked around
the other end
and cut me off
and meant to meet me
and stood next to me
breathing
and panting
like a large cat
unnerving and racing
and I was only
just so
and she had that look
and I wanted her
to want me
to talk to her
but I was incapable
of uttering a word
for fear ...
726 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
29th Jun 2012 10:03pm
29th Jun 2012 10:03pm
None Left
The odd handle,
esoteric in its silhouette,
protruding from one angle
and imploding from another,
the Mother/Father God
of all the literati,
baths in its semantic
stare down,
an icy seduction
and a tongue
that whips the foam
from the lips
of a frothing
critic,
and delivers fully formed,
Athena,
and her trove
of hermeneutic henchmen:
Grasping at straws,
the last woodsman
clears the sightline
and lays
across his trap.
She will have none of it and spoils his fun
with remonstrations of how the...
esoteric in its silhouette,
protruding from one angle
and imploding from another,
the Mother/Father God
of all the literati,
baths in its semantic
stare down,
an icy seduction
and a tongue
that whips the foam
from the lips
of a frothing
critic,
and delivers fully formed,
Athena,
and her trove
of hermeneutic henchmen:
Grasping at straws,
the last woodsman
clears the sightline
and lays
across his trap.
She will have none of it and spoils his fun
with remonstrations of how the...
608 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
28th Jun 2012 4:43pm
28th Jun 2012 4:43pm
That's What She Said
Whenever she talked
she was quite certain
that a demon
had twisted her words;
nothing she said was
ever quite taken
the way that
she thought
that it should.
She tried
to be simple
and use simple words
and say every thing
with slow pacing,
but the more
that she tried
the more certain
she was
that demons were
twisting her words.
The phrasing grew smaller
and smaller by days
until she only had a word
in her mouth;
and then with an effort
she stopped even
that until silence...
she was quite certain
that a demon
had twisted her words;
nothing she said was
ever quite taken
the way that
she thought
that it should.
She tried
to be simple
and use simple words
and say every thing
with slow pacing,
but the more
that she tried
the more certain
she was
that demons were
twisting her words.
The phrasing grew smaller
and smaller by days
until she only had a word
in her mouth;
and then with an effort
she stopped even
that until silence...
711 reads
6 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
28th Jun 2012 4:40pm
28th Jun 2012 4:40pm
Do You Mind?
After she
had gotten everything
just the way
she wanted it,
you would have thought
this would have led
to her being happy,
but by then
she had worn
her husband out
and he no longer
loved her.
The TV
was just so,
the cat purred
just right,
the couches
matched,
the draperies
were hung
with absolute balance,
the colors
were vivid,
the décor
was fung shwe ,
the cars
were new,
the flowers
were in bloom,
the children had all
graduated from...
had gotten everything
just the way
she wanted it,
you would have thought
this would have led
to her being happy,
but by then
she had worn
her husband out
and he no longer
loved her.
The TV
was just so,
the cat purred
just right,
the couches
matched,
the draperies
were hung
with absolute balance,
the colors
were vivid,
the décor
was fung shwe ,
the cars
were new,
the flowers
were in bloom,
the children had all
graduated from...
767 reads
5 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
27th Jun 2012 9:52am
27th Jun 2012 9:52am
Nothing Found
No dust
no mirror
no one to find anything
Nothing
runningturtle87
no mirror
no one to find anything
Nothing
runningturtle87
664 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
27th Jun 2012 3:36am
27th Jun 2012 3:36am
What to Write About
We don't know
what we don't know,
and we can't understand
what we can't understand,
but I'll be damned
if
I can’t understand
exactly
what someone
is talking about
when it is
something
that has kicked
the ever-living
shit
out me
and nearly
strangled me
to death.
Now that
is something
I can talk about,
and something
that, when
I hear that song,
I can sing
all the verses.
runningturtle87
what we don't know,
and we can't understand
what we can't understand,
but I'll be damned
if
I can’t understand
exactly
what someone
is talking about
when it is
something
that has kicked
the ever-living
shit
out me
and nearly
strangled me
to death.
Now that
is something
I can talk about,
and something
that, when
I hear that song,
I can sing
all the verses.
runningturtle87
634 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
27th Jun 2012 00:55am
27th Jun 2012 00:55am
If I Am Not
The question of identity
is one I often pose
I ask each one his thought on this
and see what each one knows.
To some it's this
and others that,
the answers vary
thusly,
but when I ask it
just this way
the answers line
abruptly.
If I were to be right there
the moment in the way
when I saw your child with ball
and in the street at play
and along came some big bus
a barreling right through
what would you pay for me
to toss the child safe home
to you
if in the deed
I sacrificed the line ...
is one I often pose
I ask each one his thought on this
and see what each one knows.
To some it's this
and others that,
the answers vary
thusly,
but when I ask it
just this way
the answers line
abruptly.
If I were to be right there
the moment in the way
when I saw your child with ball
and in the street at play
and along came some big bus
a barreling right through
what would you pay for me
to toss the child safe home
to you
if in the deed
I sacrificed the line ...
591 reads
2 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
26th Jun 2012 6:19pm
26th Jun 2012 6:19pm
Purpose
The generated madness of our race to reign supreme
is not what unifies us in our self-made theme,
but rather it’s the silly thought that somehow we'll endure
if only we can get some of what's really dirt, no more.
All the lovely luxury and fame of being at the top
means nothing in the morning when you find out that you're not.
The point of being here at all is thus so merely in our dreams
just to be loved and love all so, that drowns out all our screams.
runningturtle87
is not what unifies us in our self-made theme,
but rather it’s the silly thought that somehow we'll endure
if only we can get some of what's really dirt, no more.
All the lovely luxury and fame of being at the top
means nothing in the morning when you find out that you're not.
The point of being here at all is thus so merely in our dreams
just to be loved and love all so, that drowns out all our screams.
runningturtle87
719 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by runningturtle87
