Titillate The Asylum
A slow waltz of klutz feet
Stalled in the gray floor
And jaded walls, interpolating
Raddled frantic words
Siphoning the senses
Like a sapped blood
From a pierced neck
Encumbering the souls
To sleep, to rest,
But the fatigue can
Not be quelled
Bolted inside the corolla
Of petals cloaked with enigma
Butterflies shall attend to you
Gorge your skepticism
With their virulent dusts
And you will be inveigled
To sedate the blossoming
Until the petals are toppling
From the lambent withering
This is not a heraldry
So hold on to your fix
And be grotesquely
But not be ugly
Before you sink in
The gritting marquestry
Look around you:
Watch the sea gulls
Conquer the sky
Mirrored by the sea
Accidentally dividing
The feral unity;
Watch the cars go
Leaving a robust fume
To wash away their sorrows
From departing and
Cleaning their arrival;
Watch the elephants
Parade their power
Stomping on the dusts
To create motes
Of no worth
And sad fate.
Look around
Muse upon
This absolute madness.
In this sea of lonely
The waters drown
With their own depth
And as you reckon
The baffling verses
You shall sink
Inevitably
While your dreams
Are buoyed up
Splicing the lace
That tangles sanity
With subsistence,
Existence,
And quintessence.
Inject a faith
To your delusions
To abolish this
Incarcerating asylum
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Country
i let you drive
as i sit calmly on the rear side of the car,
i do not wish to speak to you
as i watch the countryside
on a very hot summer
rice fields newly harvested
cracking chunks of soil, brown grass, stacks of hay,
trees with yellow leaves, smoke from the house chimneys,
patches of fog hanging on mountains
behind us on this road towards home
dusts, dusts, dusts.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Every Morning's Mourning.
Watch you sleep
Dream and roll over
avoid the monsters
and the light
Watch you sleep
Watch you sleep
when the noise
of fifteen
floors above you
crashes in
and wraps you deeper
in your sheets
Watch you sleep
Watch you sleep
through every squeak
and smash and ping
as I serenade you
with my awake
and my breakfast
Watch you sleep
Watch you sleep
with a half-turned
smile on your face
an exposed and naked leg
your hair escaping you
like spilling starlight
Watch you sleep
Watch you sleep
when I kiss
the tiniest sample
of skin on your cheek
and know you wake
when I'm gone
and am gone
until again you sleep
When you wake
Watch you wake
Watch you sleep
poem by Q.R. Gibson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Watch Out
Watch your eyes
it may see reactions
Watch your reaction
it may enthuse emotions
Watch your emotion
it may compose thoughts
Watch your thought
it may become words
Watch your word
it may become a habit
Watch your habit
it may become character
Watch your character
it may become your identity
Finally, watch your identity
it may become your fate
poem by Marvin Brato Sr
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Watch My Blood Rain
The blade looks enticing
It's difficult to explain
The ideas of slicing
Watch my blood rain
The cut is deep
Some say I'm insane
It puts me to sleep
To watch my blood rain
The redness is real
I cannot refrain
I know I truly feel
When I watch my blood rain
I sit and I cry
Life is nothing but pain
I ask myself why
I watch my blood rain
My spirit is bound
By this ball and chain
My soul has been downed
Then I watch my blood rain
The anguish is true
My heart has been slain
One day I'll break through
For now I'll watch my blood rain
poem by Haley Nicole
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Rose Petals
Rose petals are so soft to touch,
rose petalsfragrance is so divine to smell,
rose petals are like lovely lips which smile,
rose petals are given to lady love,
rose petals are spread on bed of newly bride,
rose petals are life of butterflies,
rose petals are used for beauty baths,
rpse petals are offered on the lotus feet of god,
rose petals are placed on grave of dear ones,
rose petals are offered in river ganga for departed soul,
rose petals are showered on newly weds,
rose petals are decorated on festive days,
roses are given as a promise for everlasting love.
poem by renu Vig sharma sharma
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Start of a New Time
Sink the expressionless, pearled petals of solitude
Into the abyss of the fresh, melodious prelude.
The jaded, frozen arias of the days that you've known
Had once shimmered with the striking rays of vitality.
Startled, you were then swiftly and suddenly shown
The horrors and spiteful callousness of reality.
Nevertheless, you can signal the start of a new purpose
As you slowly start to obtain the glowing comfort of mind.
Warm like the nature air; streaked beyond the boundary surface;
Leaving behind the cold, heartless stopper of time.
Sink the expressionless, pearled petals of solitude
Into the abyss of the fresh melodious prelude.
Restore back the sands of time, unfrozen and refreshed.
poem by Emily M.Vo
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What You Do Best
Take to the blade
slice my flesh
watch me bleed
make it flow
flood the streets
paint with my blood
swim in my blood
Sink away in my placenta
drown in me
laugh at my wounds
Howl at the moon
this is what you do best
rinse my veins
wash my heart
bleach my lungs
curse my soul
Howl at the moon
this is what you do best
poem by Lola Sanchez
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Submarine, I Will Be
Life is a great wide open sea
A vast ground for a wandering
Albeit, the compass notifies
The route you're heading at
It can never direct the gust
That manipulates the malleable path;
Would you be anchored or carry on?
And veracity encumber like tides
Upon the hurling waves as I muse
At the mirror of distortion
Abashedly rolling on the floor
Of undulating lacquer tiles
For it reveals the naked truth
That we can limit to incertitude
The sea gulls hovered above like kites
As the tidal floor devoured their silhouette
The fishes swam with the current
Like vessels in comatose vapidly buoyed
And they don't even know nor care
With vanity beneath their fins and wings
By the myriad of vehement eddies
I vexed myself from swallowing the ebbs
And though, I can't understand the scene
I refocused my periscope at the patios
Of blasé and opted to be a submarine
Sink, sink, sharpen your teeth and sink.
poem by Norman Santos
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Looking Upon A Child
looking upon a child i compress my years
like how i keep the lines confined inside my palms.
i stop for while following where the child goes.
his hands are buds, his feet as small as a saki cup.
his eyes as innocent as an oil lamp waking on a dark night.
his hair are soft and silky like a kitten fur
his sounds like the arrival of morning on the grass.
i hold his tiny hands and i am back to my senses.
he calls my name, but i am no longer there.
i am back to my room. It is as crowded as a storehouse
with papers and books and chairs and used clothes hanging
on the beams and walls. Some old figurines bathed with dusts.
Some dried spittle on the floor. Some unopened off-white pages
filled with age.
i wonder, despite this crowd of things and thoughts,
despite the fullness of the wind from the window
there is still the wide vacancy of space. Inside the heart longs.
Inside the sound howls. Inside something so faint shouts.
It is the sound of the child still calling my name.
It is looking for me and i am never complete.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Morning Vibes
sunshine
dancing on my shoulder
a friend beside me
grasses are so
green today
no dusts on my feet
an hour after
the rain
some white petals
on the ground
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Paperfaces
Staring at paper faces, expressions like empty pages, day after day
Waiting for the lights to change now,, reaching for a cloud to come down,
And cover me
Cant shut you out
Cant get you out
Cant take you down
Cant watch you drown
Waiting for the world to change, dissolution takes a bit off, and swallows me
Looking for a way to get out, wishing that the rush would come down
And smother me
Cant shut you out
Cant get you out
Cant take you down
Cant watch you drown
If you can learn to be yourself, then thats okay
If you can find a reason now, dont drift away
Walking down streets to nowhere, stepping on feet with no cares,
Losing my self
Cant shut you out
Cant get you out
Cant take you down
Cant watch you drowncant shut you out
Cant get you out
Cant take you down
Cant watch you drown
Slide away, slide away
song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Path Of Poetry Petals
My petals are already drying out,
They’re not white anymore,
But a shade of gray!
I am walking on a path of poetry petals,
Why is my poetry tainted with
Innocent blood,
Dripping on my path?
The wind stirs up those petals,
And they run, they fly,
But then they fall again...
I am walking on a path of poetry petals,
Why is my poetry tainted with
Your kisses,
Caressing each petal of mine?
Rain starts, all the poetry
Is washed off those petals,
Massacre of raindrops!
I am walking on a dirty path of solitude,
Of ignorance, of profane light...
Eternity was washed away,
Beauty was damaged...
Poetry is always doomed,
Even if I’d write with my own blood,
On steel petals,
The raindrops would still wash
My poetry away,
It has no strength within,
No eternity within!
©Elya Thorn. Do not republish without permission!
poem by Elya Thorn
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Blissfulness
As I watch beliefs you hold,
Crumble and fall.
It saddens me to know,
Your madness stored
Continues to show!
Let go of limitations!
Let go of situations!
Let go of contemplations...
That keep you stalled and undernourished!
As I observe you praying for release from 'sins'...
I think to myself,
'How did these fears begin? '
Hypocrisies committed is all I see,
By those entrusted but dismiss honesty!
As I watch beliefs you hold,
Crumble and fall.
It saddens me to know,
Your madness stored
Continues to show!
A growth and appreciation of self has gone!
As you carry on looking hopeless and forelorn!
And all that needs to be done,
Is an opening of your eyes!
Cease fulfilling your life with alibis...
Shared without vision with those who lie.
Let go of limitations!
Let go of situations!
Let go of contemplations...
That keep you stalled and undernourished!
What do you believe will encourage you to flourish?
Without 'things' to feed,
Temporary desires bleeding your needs!
This is not pleasing to you at all!
Shopping for enlightenment,
Can not be found in crowded malls!
Tempting with teases to empty your pockets!
Leaving you to remorse habits you can drop...
By stopping it!
Let go of limitations!
Let go of situations!
Let go of contemplations...
That keep you stalled and undernourished!
Disperse with this...
For a happier existence that can exist!
Connect you must,
To your 'higher self'.
There is magic when you discover,
Your own blissfulness to trust!
Let go of limitations!
Let go of situations!
Let go of contemplations...
That keep you stalled and undernourished!
Connect you must,
To your 'higher self'.
There is magic when you discover,
Your own blissfulness to trust!
Stay Blissed!
Inspired By:
Maurice D. Robertson
Hartford, Connecticut
WWUH-FM radio Jazz DJ
(University of Hartford)
And photgrapher of superior talents.
'Thank you, Mo! '
Lawrence
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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(Happy Poem) Burning On The Inside
Burning on the inside.
I can't stop till our worlds collide.
Pour some gasoline, ignite it with a little red Bic, and watch it burn.
Its the second coming.
Everything that was once gone is back.
Every feeling just as strong and intact.
The anger, the rage, the need to dance upon the world stage.
The desire to be satan himself.
Sitting upon a kingdom all high and powerful.
Some must lead and some must follow.
With so much arrogance I smile.
Look at me I can fly.
The angels wings have been returned.
Burning on the inside.
I can't stop till our worlds collide.
Pour some gasoline, ignite it with a little red Bic, and watch it burn.
It is my fire.
It is my life.
I control the ambers as they glow and turn to ash.
The complications of being too proud.
If you can't swim you might just drown.
But being on solid ground, it feels so sound.
It doesn't shake or quake.
It doesn't sink or bend.
In so many words all has mended.
Every wound has been healed.
A miracle by no small standard.
Burning on the inside.
I can't stop till our worlds collide.
Pour some gasoline, ignite it with a little red Bic, and watch it burn.
Returning to efforts that seemed so in vain.
The power to change.
A chameleon come into his own.
Blending into all environments.
Barely noticed as threat.
That is a mistake that some will soon regret.
Burning on the inside.
I can't stop till our worlds collide.
Pour some gasoline, ignite it with a little red Bic, and watch it burn.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Drown my sorrows
Drown me,
Drown my depression,
Drown my sorrows,
All the things I have done hurts me inside,
I told myself that everything will be alright,
We shared so much,
All I ever asked myself to drown my sorrows,
When I look back the picture of how happy were,
I wish things will be fine between us,
Drown my sorrows,
Wash away the pain,
Wipe away my tears,
The chapter of my life is incomplete,
I was complete once but ever since I let you go,
I lost apart of me,
Drown me,
Drown my sorrows.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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Poppies
Spread out bright red silky fragile petals
Folded together tightly like sheet metals
Become masses of delicate flesh and blood
Heat is rushing through veins like during a flood
When water is dripping from the petals to the stem
It turns to a silver teardropp like a precious gem
Teardrops collected from a beautiful flower
I let run over your shoulders during night hour
It will form a river of sorrow down your back
Because there is nothing left to seal the pact
In the morning you will forget what took place
And all evidence of our love will be erased
Evidence is the one thing we can't afford to keep
Because what happens here stays here and sleeps
Another time we can awaken our passions again
But for now feelings and words we have to detain
I watch while the taxi is leaving really slow
Passing the meadow where the poppies grow
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Tom and Fatima
I saw your warm footprints, Fatima
They lingered in the sinking quartz
Stalled within the quaint wonder
That crossed this parceled paper
I saw them, standing with the colossus
Unruffled in the vapid slough of fire
A crawling inferno of treacherous
Skirmish waltz of phantom swords
And from this florid vantage
My solemn eyes rolled in naivety
To find my own footprints
Meandering supply and aimlessly
Caught in the inebriated throttle
Of the feral roars of hope
Traversing the dampen moss
Until abeyance congealed
When I saw our prints dissipate
As it crossed the enigma
Of the cesspool of ignorance
I scampered through the desert
That bit my tongue and burnt my feet
The mackerel sky threw my bitter dreams
Into a pond that gnawed at my sanity
Like an army of piranhas
That got to open their mouths
For the first time; blood-shed partied
Into the distance were crystals
That warned me: it would cut and kill
But I didn't care for the signs
Trampling upon plastic daisies
And dissolved colors into fake waters
I reached out for your echo
Hoping my mind, an impetus
To make you tangible enough to hold
So tell me, dear Tom;
Now that we're past the fire
And slowly sinking into the icicles
Of better musings and melodious muteness
How do you do?
poem by Norman Santos
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Come Without Parachutes
Come to me without parachutes
Oh, temporal days!
And stuff my famished mouth
With the virulent petals
Of your constant withering
Come to me ceaselessly
Draw closer and sing to me
With the imperial drums rolling
We will make this grand
That the snowflakes cry in cant
I will come violently, come valiantly
We will crash through the ocean floor
Stir past the caroming people
With wobbly roots and low boughs
We can seize the undertow
Come, oh, so debonairly
Unfetter the parachutes
And let the body meet the soul
The caustic brunt will fulminate
But we'll come clean and consummate
Come to me without those parachutes
I tell you, the freefall will sedate you
And we'll collide with the frowning pits
The seraphs will muse in greed
Our plummeting and untangled hopes
Come, let's beat the angry street
I have been hanging here too long
Grinding the concrete floor
With all vehement ardor
I want to go, let us go down below
Come, my sedentary life,
Come to your funeral
Come darting like the sun
With a porcupine charm
Come without your parachutes.
poem by Norman Santos
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Dreaming
when fifteen i got more
dreams than you,
until i got to be nineteen
experiencing some little pains
i sorted some dreams
and threw them all away
i wanted to live in a new house
there is no show of a shadow of a house
i dreamed of horses that i can ride on mountainsides
i got only goats
got realistic somehow
i only take what i can take hold of
at fifty i dream no more
a practical man
i sit on a bench facing a road
sip my coffee
and watch the dusts left by a rushing car towards the city.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Six Feet Below
Past the fence is where they lay,
This is their home, this is their ground,
This is where they cry,
In this place they rest and are never found.
Here he put them when he was through,
Here is the place he comes when his work is done,
They all lay and watch, they used to be few
Now it has become his hobby what he does for fun.
They want to tell you, they send you dreams,
Yet we block these dreams for we are scared,
We shall never know what it means,
And so we shall be in darkness and the pain will never be repaired.
In this hidden graveyard they lay,
They watch people walk past unknowing,
They watch them day by day.
Being the only ones that know the truth, they hold the knowing.
He does his work so quietly, so well,
That we never see him coming, we never know.
Is he saying the truth, the living will never be able to tell,
For if you want to know the truth you have to be six feet below.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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