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think2much's POD (Poem of the day)

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posted on Feb, 21 2006 @ 10:12 PM
OK, first, in case anyone wanders in here to read my poetry, I give the disclaimer that- I am not a poet, but I do like to attempt to express myself through poetry at times. Lately this is quite often, but I will try to keep it to posting one poem a day.

Also, my poems tend to be of a rhyming nature, by automatic default it seems, and otherwise are free flowing....and too often a tad trite as well, which is what I will be working on most in the it's a work in progress to say the least.

Honestly, right now I'm not out to prove anything or impress anyone, it is more a vehicle to attempt to express myself-write something and set it free.

My poems are like the falling tree-you -anyone who reads them becomes the person in the forrest who hears the it does make a sound...I am heard...thus my feelings and thoughts exists seperate from me, and at the same time, have the capacity to unite me through what others read.

[edit on 21-2-2006 by think2much]

[edit on 21-2-2006 by think2much]

posted on Feb, 21 2006 @ 10:21 PM
I look back and wince,
was that really me?
So hard.
So cold...
but so damn free.

I look forward and retch,
at what lies ahead of me.
So lost.
So hopeless.
No reprieve.

I stand still for a moment,
hardly able to breathe.
My life is my making,
as I've sown the seeds.

So pure was I, when I was cold.
So noble was I, when I was bold.
How lonely am I, I now behold.
I became warm and soft
and my soul I have sold.

For love?
For love?

What love? It isn't in me.
True love I had known
set me free,
this love I know now...
it only binds me.

For the love of God,
or the love of man?
To worship my needs,
or give in to demands.

I want to be young again.
I want to refrain,
from the glorious deception
that I'll just start over again.

...and again...
...and again.

The virginal sacrifice
of all that I've had,
naked hopes and dreams
cold reality clad.

Water on the sand,
a cleansing wave's kiss,
my plans all erased now...
how did I settle for this?

I turn my back on this present's future.
I say farewell to the past with a tear.
I turned my back on their friendship,
and never found them again to be near.

Now I know the truth
is really hard to accept,
our soul mates are friends
I should have rejected the rest.

More truth had I, when I was a teen.
More purer was love when we all were a team.
No pressure when life was still all a dream
and now it's a nightmare

...and I should have seen it

posted on Feb, 22 2006 @ 09:44 AM
The majority, the masses
so as not to hear nor see
want for muffs and blinders
and apethetic mediocrity.

They hide their eyes from the truth
muff their ears from the screams
want one standard for all ages, races...
it's a psychoactive scheme.

For want of some assurance
they have made it law
a blatant act against freedom
unnoticed or blindly accepted by all.

Put into writing
and then into practice
to monitor and mold our minds
so as to dictate our actions.

Weeding out the singles
so they can kill the masses
drugs and violence for the weak
mind control in the classes.

...and if all else fails
the estrangement is too much!
They themselves will come seeking
the therapuetic touch.

Crying "muffle my ears with your wisdom!
With enlightenment blind my eyes, my mind!
Replace the chemicals I'm lacking
and regulate the ones too high!"

The practioner then answers
"Ah yes, I think I have the key.
I can make you happy
in the bondage of mediocrity."

(and if the key wont fit,
there is a place without a key
an instituation to confine their bodies
if their mind insists on being free)

So make your choice of bondage
of body, soul, or mind...
join the dictates of the masses
or remain isloated as one of a kind.

You may feel lonely
and suffer much strife
but escape the bondage of the mediocre masses
and reach for great heights in this life.

[edit on 22-2-2006 by think2much]

[edit on 22-2-2006 by think2much]

posted on Feb, 23 2006 @ 07:53 AM
I once thought I knew you the way you know me
but the complexity is simple I cannot see
So many facets, a diamond in the rough,
never to be cut and polished, for who could do enough?

It's not a matter of what you do, or why
who you know, what you think, what you say are lies.
It's a matter of a moment, a matter of truth.
Reaching for the help you need, the knot is coming loose

...and there are no pieces when you fall apart.
That is the hope of the loosers who just want a fresh start.
To pick up the pieces of their broken hearts
and try to begin again, with bright shiney new parts.

But when you do know it, that the knot is undone
you see there are no pieces, you are you're only one.
No exchanges, no replacements, and absolutely no refunds.
It's time to pay the piper dear, you can no longer run.

You are who you are, but not in so many ways.
Quit fighting yourself, come together today.
Don't fear the fears, your fears do lose them is to gain.
To revel in, or try to fight such a time wasted shame.

posted on Feb, 24 2006 @ 09:05 AM
To the unloved, I love you
or is that where it all began?
Then to the unloved, you are then
because I unlove you again.

Because of what I bestow upon you
and a lack of what has been previously wrought upon you
by some the wicked, under the lable of love.

To the unloved, I see you
no matter where or what facade behind you hide
you cannot disguise
your truth, your self
from me.

To the unloved, you are all I see
and I see you all, and all of you
and the fragments of you
in that fraction of a twinkle
left beyond your eyes.

You cannot hide the hope that rises
even if dimly,
and flashes not brightly, but sharply
your self preserving will it defies.

And through your eyes
your souls cry
piercing me
like hot needles
sewing sorrow through my mind.

Steaming my soul through
and burning my breast
my heart convulsing with your pain
threatens to seize in my chest

You may think your heart hardened
picture it blackened and cold
but I see what remains of you
broken, pain-soakened...your soul

The souls of the unloved
are the strongest of all
for your determined to live in
your lives unforgiven
and without the need to forgive

Through bitter clenched bodies
you brave on with bravado
just enough to keep the sharp edges
of a broken life
from tearing through the flesh
of the intricate mesh
of your preserving disguise

And I am even pierced by your tightly sewn eyes
my heart stacato in panic, I can not hide
my soul bursting, my mind overheated
feeling all of your pain within me deep seated

worse is my soul
as it burns with my mind
for I can't help but loving
or unloving our kind.

[edit on 24-2-2006 by think2much]

posted on Feb, 24 2006 @ 11:24 AM
Just want you to know,
I'm reading your thoughts...
Poetry helps you grow,
Write against all costs.

Spill your guts and let it flow,
I'll read them while I sip.
The words flow through me
while the whiskey takes its grip.

We are all nuts,
In our own damn way.
At least you have the guts,
To suck it up and come out and play.

I'll just use you
for your thoughts.
kick back and abuse you,
It's what I've been taught.

Hehe... Corny I know... Keep up the good work. You are damn good. I like what I'm hearing. Especially that last one.

posted on Feb, 24 2006 @ 11:54 AM
it's nice to know my trees get heard sometimes
thanks for the feedback-I'd say that last one is my favorite of this week as well..

(though you could've pointed out the typo-
I caught it now though)

and I appreciated poem in response-corny says you -I liked it, but what do I know?!

posted on Feb, 25 2006 @ 09:07 AM
is sad and beautiful
joyful and ugly
and with each word written
comes to life
and begins to die

it is written to be read
and heard and felt
and all too often to be accepted
but although it is written
for all to see it's meaning
fear not the truth revealed

for if it is read, as it's been written
it will change with each reader
as they read it
as it was written to be read

the meaning of the words changed
by the experiences of the readers past
and their hopes and their present knowledge
as their only points of reference
to be empathetic
to the words written

for words have more than one meaning
and not meaning just in the word
like the passion of love's destruction
as ferocicious as the destruction of hate

so have two meanings words
and have two passions written
let the words be made known to many
and turning up their noses
they will leave the truth for few
to then also blindly miss it

as they read the words
as they were written
so we may purge our souls
and relieve our minds
and hold no anxiety
that we may be unwittingly understood

and then may see the snicker in the eyes
of the few of the few
who in reading the words
accidentally absorbed some meaning

who then reveal in the knowledge
of our successful ineptitude
and in knowing
feel superior
to have found our weakness
that they may feel strong

or to see the tears of the other few
whom by seemingly identifying
want to consume our pain and joy
or hold is in responsibility

to strengthen them
or wollow in sorrow by their side
ah, forgive them
for as it's trite, it's also true
they know not
what they do

we are only exhibitionists
in the mirrored reflections
of our ink
and thus our truth transposed
we are not as naked
as the unclad words

bare on the page, exposed in the song
adandoned to seek refuge
in the translucent robes
of multiple meanings

we need not fear the few of the few
we need not hide behind the words written
but in how they are read
take refuge in the writing
therin lies the safety
the beauty of of poetry

posted on Feb, 27 2006 @ 07:14 AM
Have you ever again smelled
the sonoran desert after the rain
heard the water rushing like
under the dock of the bay

missed my arms around you
baby, tell me just the same
because I miss you madly
and I feel oh, so ashamed

tell me what you miss about me
come release my pain

swear to the father
about our sweet son
and the holy ghost
well, now I've become one

just a figment of my imagination
I barely float through this here strife
tell me what you miss about me
how no one compared to me in life

tell me what you miss about me
baby, say it, make it right

tell me how you searched the stars
the barren desert lost at sea
tell me how you searched the night
how you could find no one like me

I tell you I've had lovers
looking for someone to remind
me of the love we knew
in the sweet desert left behind

tell me that you miss me
can't stop thinking it's not right

and the music it reminds me
every damn long time
we have soul mates in this life
we meet them in the rhyme

We feel them in the music
we hear them in the song
we know it's deja vu again
and we know it wont last long

if I tell you that I miss you
baby would that be so wrong?

then cheating Destiny
she makes it known
how what we want we get
and we end up alone

she mocks us in the long run
she laughs about our state
always realizing it in the ever after
we've left behind another soul mate

too late to say I miss you
we then choke on the fate

I'll tell you what I miss about you
sweet music in my soul
the way that we connected
the way you made me whole

I tell you babe, I miss you
of course we know its too damn late
but to hear you say those sweet words
I know my love is not a mistake

tell me how you miss me
tell me it's never too late

meet me in the desert
I think Destiny's insane
let her lead us down
to smell again
the desert after the rain


that was actually more of a song I've been writing...can't quite get the tune right, but I'm satisfied with the lyrics for now

[edit on 27-2-2006 by think2much]

[edit on 28-2-2006 by think2much]

posted on Feb, 28 2006 @ 10:08 AM
Too much information
and not enough facts
not enough of what is missing
too much of what lacks

too much entertainment
breeds lack of imagination
too much of what to play with
leads to no appreciation

not enough regulation
leads to all the frustration
simulated agitation
is the key manipulation

too much childhood adoration
turns to adolescent isolation
and no effective communication
to lend hope for healthy maturation

the youngest of minds
does cyber garbage cheat
it rapes the mind
and steals the ability to think

and he'll wear down the patience
of even his closest relations
and those that love him most
will be ashamed
when they feel hate
for him

and the conscienceless demon
he'll become
is the man of their creation
and for them he'll never have respect
and for no apparent reason
he will always object

he can't be quiet
and he can't be still
he can't comprehend what is
and isn't real

for this life is his making
he's pretty sure
and if it goes untreated
too late they'll see there is no cure

murders, slayings, evil monsters preying
but it's all pretend they keep saying
sex and death including mutilation
to a child's mind isn't simulation

it is real it's what he's come to know
and around this artifical input
movies, tv, gaming
did his little mind grow

bombarded by images
the mind only receives
entertained violently
reason recedes

he has become a receptical
mostly of trash
his life is perceptual
and one day he'll crash

posted on Mar, 1 2006 @ 06:16 AM
Sweet slumbering visions gave way to waking strong.
I knew where not I was now, as I gazed upon new dawn.
Raising sharp across horizons, unrecognizable to me,
the splendid cobalt sun ablaze across the sky's blue sea.

At peace in my ethereal vision, I even mused I might be dead,
but as I looked away from my portal gazing pane, I realized instead,
I was just a visitor, a subject, perhaps a pawn in someone's a game.
I faced them fearlessly in awe, and they seem to face me much the same.

I wondered if alone I be, as far as humans were,
but as they led me down a corridor, I heard the voices stir.
The beings that led me, well they spoke without a word
and the voices coming clearer now, were from humans that I heard.

Entering a celestial room, the invisble voices seemed to crest.
My silent hosts whispered in my mind, to please relax and not resist.
I wondered for a moment, and then it all became too clear,
my mind was rushing visions of my life both there and here.

My memories of my life with them were fading from me fast,
The lifetime I once knew so well, would be a lifetime of my past.
For the moments I had shared with them, were moments all but gone
and as they returned me to my Earthly home, it already felt so wrong.

Shaking from the incident, alone in my own home
I fought for thoughts -oh rational! A figment of my own?
I wondered as I lay me down, between the sheets so cool,
but as I closed my eyes, my lingering thoughts, revealed that which was true

I remembered friendships with them all, some love, and yes the testing too
but memories quickly faded fast, as they were programmed just to do
I clinged to them like precious stones slipping from my grip.
Now left to me, only knowledge that, once precious memories did exist.

I closed my eyes so weary now, and let the memories rush in like waves.
Chaotic and beautiful and powerful, crashing against my mind to fade away.
I let it all happen, as I knew I could not stop what they'd begun.
I slipped into sweet slumbering visions of my home near the cobalt sun

posted on Mar, 1 2006 @ 06:18 AM
No, I'm no abductee btw
but there was a short while ago a "challenge" between two people here to write an "abduction poem" which never seemed to come to fruition-I can't find any such from either of them- but when I saw the challenge put out I decided to write one though I hadn't been challenged to.

and so that explains the above poem

posted on Mar, 8 2006 @ 07:08 AM
Friends and lovers
a noble cause
takes love and faith
forget not, resolve

to remember fast
to hold with care
but loosely so
independance shared.

Do not expect me
and I shant decieve
I'll be here for you
even when I leave.

I will love you always
and be careful to
love you enough
to let go of you.

I will not make
the demands of need
if you will cherish me
as a friend indeed.

Friends and lovers
shared resolve
defying Fate
for Destiny's cause.

[edit on 8-3-2006 by think2much]

posted on Apr, 12 2006 @ 09:07 AM
Alone she cries and it doesn't matter.
The hugs from others only makes her feel sadder.
He's gone and there's no turning back.
He's gone, he's gone, and the world seems so black.

Sweet sleep to numb the incessant pain.
She awakes only to take the meds again.
How sweet the morphine drip had been.
If only she could be that numb again.

If not numb, then let death come sweetly.
Not to kill herself, but asking God, no pleading,
just to take her life, it's no longer worth leading.
Perhaps more meds and she'll just stop thinking.

But her meds they are running low,
and she thinks too much, like should he know?
The father should know and the guilt rages
but the pain of this story is written on her life's pages.

She is wrong and she's learns he truly does care.
The pain of this story with her will be shared.
The greatest grief and pain known will be hers alone,
but the pain of loss will be one they both know.

Flesh of his flesh, bone of his bone
He fathered a child whom he'll never know.
He created life, but will not know his son.
He is a childless father with no where to run.

There is no escaping the truth when it finds you.
No escaping the grip of regret when it binds you.
No easing the guilt until you seek to be forgiven
So seek it, accept it, be healed, live and love again.

posted on May, 2 2006 @ 11:29 AM
"am I your friend?"
he asked
he sang
he played
I drove
"I wanna run"
he sang
I drove
I wanted to run
I drove
I wanted to run
I sang
"I wanna run"
along with him
and I did
I wanted to run

truckers on the freeway
I wanted to be one
I wanted to run
I wanted to drive forever
on an endless road
and never stop
and never go forward really
and never really go back
not from where I run from

I wanted to run
run to my earliest past
and then go forward
knowing where
for once I would
know where I was going
and I'd run
I'd run to where I was going
and I'd never look back

Am I your friend?
I am not even my friend,
my friend,
but yes, you are my friend
music playing
you are my friend
my music
my road
my music
my road
you are my friend
yes my only friend
I miss you already
I can not run
my friend
I can not run
but yes,
you are my friend

posted on May, 3 2006 @ 05:27 PM
OK, so Im filling the potable water tanks up on the training ship. Takes a few hours to do and Im bored. You know how you think about things when youre bored right? Well, I find myself thinking about a girl I once knew. Haha, my third world girl for you music fans out there. So Im 22 years old and working on an MSC ship called the 1st Lt. Alex Bonneyman. I caught the ship out of Tampa Bay Florida bound for the South Pacific via the Panama Canal. No short trip mind you, about a month straight at sea.

The island of first destination was called Saipan. Some of you have heard of this Im sure. Now, this story may offend some of you or cause you to think less of me. I honestly dont care. Unless you have spent a month straight surrounded by a desert of water with nothing but 30 other men for company you can judge me all you want. Ill tell you to go *bleep* yourself.

So we pull up to Saipan, a beautiful tropical island with white sandy beaches lined with palm trees. One mountain in the middle with clouds forming around its peak and the water all around is a crystal clear blue like you could never imagine. One of the most gorgeous places I have ever seen. Walking off the boat after a month straight at sea feels like heaven. My first destination? You guessed it The strip club.

Now, these strip clubs over hear arent the same as your American counterparts. They fly young, buxom, Filipino girls over from the Philippines. Only the most beautiful girls are blessed with the privilege to make cash off of drunk married Japanese business men. So I walk into this joint, it was called the Starlight, grab myself a seat and take a look around. Its a pretty dark and dreary place. Black lights for illumination and some of the crudest most offensive pictures you could imagine as decoration on the walls. Two, pretty young, couldnt be older then 19 year old girls dancing up on stage. Gyrating and bouncing to some sort of club music I couldnt identify. You get the picture.

So Im looking around Checking out the women of course. When this girl walks by me in a tight white dress. What a *bleeping* r-a-i-n-b-o-w! Let me tell you this girl had it all, perfect curves, tight healthy skin, legs that dont stop, that long slender neck, huge almond colored eyes, and shining black hair tumbling over some perfect shoulders. You get the picture I hope. If I keep talking about this I wont be able to finish the story. All men know what it's like to see a woman that you just have to talk to. That one girl that just stands out from the crowd... She is capable of all your attention... You have to have this girl!

She notices me checking her out, as all women do somehow, and comes over to me. I just sit at the table and watch her walking towards me in dumbstruck awe. She asks me if I would like a drink and I say "yes, Ill take a double Jack and Coke." "You want to buy me a drink," she asks? I tell her "sure;" inside Im thinking hell *bleeping* yes!

So we sit with each other and she snuggles up to me and she smells like tropical. Thats the only word I can think to describe it. I can still smell it now. I know I can pay this girl and get anything I want. But all I want is to hear a womans voice. Its amazing what seeing no women for a month straight can lead you to miss. I didnt miss sex, I didnt miss intimacy... I can take care of sex myself and imagine the intimacy. I just missed the female voice and that smell and that... All around softness, the things you cant take care of yourself if you get what I mean. She reaches down below the table because thats what men come here for. I grab her hand and tell her no. She looks hurt and Im thinking # I cant even go five minutes without *bleeping* up with a woman, let alone a stripper.

But I just want to talk to this girl And boy did we talk. I learned a lot from that young thing about how painful life can be for people in other parts of the world. Losing her father at the age of 8 to a fishing accident. Stripping and sending every cent she makes back home to help support her family. About the contract she had to sign with the Filipino mafia just so she could get this job. Some pretty messed up things if you get what I mean. I listened and just watched her talk. She grew fond of me because of that. She would be giving some guy a hand-job in the corner but as soon as I walked through that door she came over to me. I'd tell her to go wash her hands of course!!! haha

Every chance I could Id go to that strip club and she would dance for me and then sit and talk to me. Man, that girl could move. I've yet to meet another girl that could move like she did. She would dance and Id just sit in the back and watch. She was always looking at me as she danced, even though the room was filled with other men. Nothing, and I mean nothing, makes you feel more like a man then knowing the girl everyone is gawking at is thinking about you! Eventually things did get sexual, and she was the best Ive ever had. Hmmmm... I wish I could give some details here about what she could do... But that's besides the point.

Hell, somehow I must have had too much to drink and told her my birthday one night. She and all the other strippers baked me a cake and sang happy birthday to me in the nude. She smeared some cake on my face and licked it all off. Thats it I was falling for this girl. Im a simple, simple, simple man!!!

I never knew how much I meant to this girl, hell her name is Sheng... Sheng Victorio, until the day I had to leave. We only knew each other for about three months but I broke that girls heart. We had a lot in common. Two young kids in a foreign country stuck to our jobs. Her surrounded by women day and night with no real intimacy to be found. Me on a boat surrounded by men just wanting to be with a woman. She made a video that night so she could remember me (it got a little racy). She would always tell me "mahal kita", and would never tell me what it meant. I knew I could find out but I wanted her to tell me. She did that last day. She was telling me she loved me.

She cried... I left... We have never seen or talked again. I just find myself wondering how she is doing sometimes. My third world girl.

posted on May, 4 2006 @ 09:04 AM
Good to *see* you buddy.

That is some story, and I just want you to know you are welcome to write anything you feel like on this thread-afterall it is a collaborative writing forum, right? Write, ramble, get drunk and rant, wax poetic-whatever grabs you.

I am thinking Ten Foot Pole lyrics though I know there are other Third World Girl lyrics theirs are what I would consider most apropos here.

Hmmm I'd think you were nearly as attached as she.

I've been rather retrospective myself in life lately, but I don't think I could share any stories of lost love, or near forgotten-never to be forgotten love...maybe a poem though-it's always good to hide in the translucent robes of poetry...

...but really, what I really need to do is hit my head-all too hard- incur a brain injury and forget my life and everyone in it until now and just start over from where I am at. Married, with children, in a nice little house on nice little past, only the future to take moment by moment ahead of me.

Anyway, I can't imagine you'd be judged ill for any of that-it was a love story-obviously...and like all the good ones- imperfect, flawed, a bit tragic, dark and of course bitter sweet.

Anyway, as I said-you are welcome here anytime and it was good to see you around.

[edit on 4-5-2006 by think2much]

posted on May, 5 2006 @ 08:13 AM
timeless reminder
emotional strain
memories forever
relive the same pain

bleed the release
torniquet tied
stop the flow
make it subside

so easy we hurt
so easy we heal
the physical
only the physical

tighter I turn it
cut off the flow
choke out the memory
I don't want to know

bloodless and dead
can you amputate
the part of this heart
and all it's mistakes

my mind wont forget
and the pain is so real
there's no cure for this
and I cannot deal

turn up the music
to numb like novacaine
drowns out memories
temporarily I feel sane

but sanity is fleeting
as the music subsides
and the memories live on
and I'm dying inside

I'm bleeding, I'm dying
damn, cant you see
so bravely I go on
bleeding internally

posted on May, 5 2006 @ 08:20 AM
Screw you... Never forget the past. Peace.

Now that's a poem! Haha

[edit on 5-5-2006 by LostSailor]

posted on May, 5 2006 @ 09:11 AM
Now that was eloquent Sailor.

and edited?

I can only imagine you edited out the more profound.

I am deciding I have no past to remember

it was an illusion

the future is an illusion too

the present is...a delusion

so I think I'll live terminally delusional!

Everything is f-i-n-e fine.


I am fine


everything is fine


what a weird word




how are you?

I am fine

just fine




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