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Comment by the machine on May 25, 2023 at 7:04am

Comment by Taaron Vaughn on April 5, 2018 at 10:55am

Moods of a Mosaic Hearts 

My Hearts a Mosaic

It looks like Byzantine 

Or The Thing 

It would seem 

I manage to take damage 

Like its a advantage 

Watch me try to stay sane 

And rearrange 

Another Picture 

Another Sister 

Another X what did I expect 

Everything wet 

But eventually you get wrinkle 

And it gets old 

Starting to feel like Kris Kringle

And managing your list of demands as a man takes its toll

Yet your so bold

What do you bring to the table?

Your Body?


Is it Leftover?

Well if it is let me take a swig 

Of this wine if its fine 

And we can let this Passover 

You the Judas 

The Brutus 

That's who you is 

I need crucifixion 

Its not fiction 

Sacrifice would be nice 

Where your conviction?

Probably somewhere lost in a vision 

Of Unicorn and Capes 

Where your Ego is safe 

Delusional the Usual 

But yet your Beautiful?

That's up for definition 

That's not your preposition 

Especially when you live like a villain 

Breaking hearts and keeping its parts 

But you cant have these pieces 

These are for my nephew and nieces 

To see the cracks and creases 

Every patch and grievance  

To see this Heart as Art 

As a start 

A lesson


You can make it 

You can take it

Nobody safe from Heart Break 

And when it break 

Just gather and remember you still matter 

Comment by Robert Michell on November 6, 2017 at 3:34pm

Lines Written Upon the Moor

    —On the poetic right to passion 

I hike upon the sultry moor 

    where heather tufts abound

And clustered berries grow 

    in profusion all around.

Rolling fields are broken, here 

    by crags and rocky spurs

And rimmed by stands 

    of rugged tamaracks and firs.

Where shadows overhead 

    bring a touch of death,

Little ponies run with

    heavy, snorting breath.

Up from bays and marshy shores 

    clad in misty wreaths

Low stone walls de-mark 

    ancient holdings of the heath.

In all Moorish tales, youth

    and innocence are cursed,

For nothing here is straight 

    or what it seems, at first.

Skirting granite monoliths 

    and mossy, covered logs

I come to the border    

    of a vast, miasmic bog,

Above me, sodden clouds 

    form a smooth and somber ply

While on the mire are strewn

    broken pieces of the sky.

Though tangled roots and brambles 

    hide the run of hares,

They likewise veil the intrigues 

    deep in foxes’ lairs.

I chase the shouting wind 

    within the grasp of God, 

And, with a heaving chest, 

    hurl myself upon the sod.

Here are tribal remnants 

    that time has left undaunted:

Cairns that are yet, 

    by savage spirits, haunted!

While tracing wagon ruts 

    beneath a rocky tor,

I feel a strange heartbeat 

    I’ve never known before: 

Upon a precipice, 

    I become a feral child— 

Naked as the true at last,

    and utter as the wild!


Comment by Thomas Abraham on March 20, 2016 at 5:05am

Depths of my Heart: poem/song

Bright lights, big cities what do they have on you?
Step out of the shadows and endure
one more breath, to capture the resonate longing of your soul

Drink from the cup that never empties
Into the depths of my heart, go
drink up, drink up

Into pasture hidden garden of yesterday
the sweet smell of lavender on my lips
I turn away from the hustle and bustle of the urban landscape

Drink from the cup that never empties
Into the depths of my heart, go
drink up, drink up

Drink from the cup that never empties
Into the depths of my heart, go
drink up, drink up

By Thomas Abraham
written just now, 3/20/16

Comment by Justin Parsons on December 11, 2015 at 12:38am

Comment by Terri Gary on September 27, 2015 at 4:53pm

Summer Sleeps

Summer sleeps

Its eyes are tired

Fall is coming

Cool air

Dog days gone by 

Trees stand tall in awe

But wait!


Their leaves

Beautiful and bright

They're changing color

Swaying gracefully

From high to low

They sink to the ground

In a moment the snow falls

And the cold awakes

Warm inside we watch from the window

-Terri Gary

Comment by Michael Darrell Walker on May 10, 2013 at 9:32pm

Love Always Believes

by Michaelw1two

Inspired by Janea (lovey.87)

life changes,

love in stages;

lusts one had,

love just a fad;

want love that stays,

a love that pays;

that helps,

one that’s not for play;

loves found ayes,

loves surprise;

compassion’s sages,

love you crazy;

which is real…which is real... which is real...

love is the wanting,

love is filled with nothing;

love the person,

you do not seek;

when you can offer,

defeat hurt and sorrow;

when you awake tomorrow,

loves stage will mellow;

reckoning’s constant wallow,

a way to show this love;

your hands, to your heart,

fit as gilded gloves;

which is real… which is real... which is real  

utterly weightless,

knowing strife is pointless;

when this is gone, all you see,

is beyond, togetherness;

know now, there is no turning back,

dream through your nights for this;

you alone lapse, into loves depths;

your heart doesn't beat,

there is no options for defeat;

which is real… which is real... which is real...

no selection of mind strays,

your love has found me;

believe in love and so choose,

will to sing and fly loose;

once love looks your way,

blissed amusement can play;

love wants me for who I am,

I will to find it, I can;

love is here for me,

because of me, love is set free;

no matter how I am used,

taken lovingly and subdued;

which is real… which is real... which is real...

love is not hard to conceive,

my will, love always believes.

Michael Darrell Walker

Comment by Michael Darrell Walker on April 20, 2013 at 3:37am

Fear’s Embrace


Inspired by the word-works of Mamata Sampath


with that it comes,

what lies beneath it;

beauty or horror,

it captivates me;

crawls and creeps through me,

to it, I succumb, while being;

agast of it, I fear it reaching me,

little, do I believe or know fear;

sly manipulator, your rationale in a whisper,

self-doubt makes you weak;

and begging for mercy, you let go,

one, surrendering to oblivion;

for what, I do now know,

fear, you do acknowledge your hold;

you make me helpless and tossed,

let me want to live, and love the wrest;

to be haplessly torn, by life and love,

like a walk, in moonlight, my essence glowing;

beyond the dark and the unforeseen,

be mighty fear,  but the unmerciful servant;

I seek your help to free myself, from me,

I do need you, I am ready to build your altar;

with my love, passion, rejection, and pain,

I embrace it all, life, beauty, love, and death;

I accept it, it is you fear, and I need you,

your dwelling place, is my sanctuary;

I am now fed and freed by you,

and, I live completely for your embrace.


Michael Darrell Walker

Comment by Michael Darrell Walker on April 15, 2013 at 12:18am


by michaelw1two


in the pit,

of my abide;

someone breaks wind,

burning odour takes over;

who cares.

If I were reversible,

an awful thought, is this possible;

notions maw, those hooves that paw,

you reduced, made by things minuscule;

by the straits, of your hypocrisy.

soon, so soon, silver slippery spoons,

you think, you thought, you brought, you swoon;

your image, reflected through time’s hourglass,

contained, within a porcelain thrones surpass;

beholden to  and only hued, of a mindset maimed,

god damns, those whose houses, cause humans pain;

will contained, this moment’s spine, unholy trilogy,

your image, and a cracked reflections eulogy;

this shall then divide you, male from other,

man, from lover, man from mother;

we will to meet, the finished treats,

if we speak, you will recognize your creator;

my voice, the things it’s yearn, oh shite you say,

want to hear, can you bare, your thoughts this day.


Michael Darrell Walker

Comment by Michael Darrell Walker on April 14, 2013 at 4:01pm


by Michaelw1two
Life’s pendulums once strongly swung

released each soul to fate

to its chagrin time’s Ides did send

chills subdue as memory relates

intense, the anguish of such returning

swinging to and fro elates

today one’s breath is just a hiss

as living’s joy is scrawled to slate.

Fist’s grip succumbs to weary grasp

as upon time’s arm you cling

subtlety being that ane beyond control

realization’s miff it is so ousting

fate’s brisance, one of release

inertia binds a life against its sting

sneer molds the face, a masked grimace

such sight is eerily stirring.

One’s drink, when so compared to life

expression shown it be bitters

urge in herb and unquenched thirst

your dyspneic draw sum’s botha

living’s muse, time’s circling ennend

certain firsts to Ibn Yunus’ betas

plurge ablution’s hand me downs

senses stained shape life’s bouquet.

Weariness, the strain on thoughts and limb

alas the putrid epopt

tests resolve of spirit’s clade

presumption mists of spittle swapped

salvation calls, ictus now begun

the choice of swing proves uppity

strength slays a will’s commute

essence in awe is self co-opted.

Swilling fleer reflects mind’s mirrors

astride this surreal Faucault

Ephialtes crept upon one’s back

that cirth denies this pendules’ hault

corruption’s ply unyieldingly wound

its release listening ears auscult

conundrum curst, the world’s awhirl

self survivals key a soul’s envault.

Pictured thus one lifelong mess

hidden not from qusguous qued

in vivo the repetitious asking lays

phaeic answers so resolutely due

living’s yawn is incessantly drawn

from the swingy lump that’s you

entelechy of all life dies

pendulum stalls, and now...

your time is nearly through.

Michael Darrell Walker

Comment by Michael Darrell Walker on April 10, 2013 at 2:04am

Beauty tis each cummings art

by Michaelw1two

inspired by the work of Joanna {jz645356}

lust, an elusive find,
often not of heart, but mind;
upon sweets touched,
soft moist lips kiss yearned;
that thought to take first,
and selfishly give less inkind;
whatever, one’s thirst needs quench,
of tastes not words;
although… those lusty moans do,
give rise to swollen treats and dews;
through eyes closed,
an excited moment’s rush thought’s surge;
and… memories lisps, uuummmm,
do concisely converge;
during completion’s lapse,
on two very different, yet so similar slits;
these mists, and droplets,
one’s cummings gleaned off whisper’s spits;
exploding myths, and offering’s sweats,
oh, the mind’s entwine, with living’s gods;
yes, truth’s passions spent, the time’s relit,
and once again peace gains the nod;
remaking just this simply joyous groan,
the rich of nether regions owned;
by the gasping breaths that share,
this moment’s riche, on the fifth’s dimensioned honed;
then in an instant that which thrilled,
and threshed the soul is done;
and what then remains, the air you once breathed,
and the skins you once donned.

Michael Darrell Walker

Comment by Michael Darrell Walker on April 10, 2013 at 2:03am

Waiting too Volunteer

by Michaelw1two

Like pulling teeth, with a string piece,
tied to the foyer door;
chocolates melt quicker… in an oven,
hands or arms, silent alarms, ears ring;
dressed as that sweats stag, lacking tobacco,
resist that resistance, be owned self’s insistence;
sweetly soured, somewhat dour,
what is this hour;
temptation’s abound,
tease this hungry hound, whatever;
cherished, sherries treats,
each to soothe the need;
yearning learned,
burning sordid, boiling’s seeds;
flower’s lacking, architect’s slacking,
building’s crumpled stock;
however, daunting issue’s quest,
needs be this structural block;
willingly thorough, one moment’s esquire,
Gardena’s council kowtows;
threshed be bending,
supple sup the sweetmeats;
borough be bending, suckled scents,
entice howling’s boughs;
thighs gently imparting,
joust this penning’s entreat.

Michael Darrell Walker

Comment by Michael Darrell Walker on April 10, 2013 at 2:03am

‘desire irreality’

by Michaelw1two

beating hearts
knowin how it starts

we imagine
what doesn't like reality
focusing incredible

blinding eyes
believing lies
forgiving those to be
open and let yourself see

lorena 630 and michaelw1two

Comment by Michael Darrell Walker on April 10, 2013 at 2:02am

Pretty Flowers… Prettier Hands… Damn!

by Michaelw1two

And: Objections lens, itself towards thee,
to wit between, your view and which witch being meant;
then instant caustic, bee an irritant,
belay beneathe ones behooved breasts, so suckling sweet.

Instant lei, be tossed aside, each thoughts soul waned;
a lass or low behold, as star to Isis’ suade,
centered such, two wills agonst each sole’s tree knells;
glanced therein twined flames, compassionate sweets kissed.

Upon… that time, when all one’s dreams held such mean,
perception’s stout myth, a mystery, without mind’s ends;
that battle, an epic fought, of words gentile friends,
becomes an adversaries clash of stinging bold works.

Serpent’s touch, toothed and hooves, these daze dawns,
obsolescence twined there, retiring a black queens pawn;
tongue remiss, salute’ pissed, reap that soul’s reward,
begins thereunto compassion’s truth: lets life rend.

And: these serpent’s instants, glanced upon by them,
to believe one’s chance, perusal’s truth’s circumstance;
calms ablution’s thus, begins a Proust’s objection,
dissing’s hist, the shite hawks bled, one thousand hands spun.

Untoward comes the newest dawn, lines cleaned crowed,
dressage requites, the truth’s word wright, this Lord’s honed sward;
hissing’s bless, an annuls bliss, twice rings interred,
choirs sing out; that heeled tapping lads reincarnated!

Michael Darrell Walker

Comment by Michael Darrell Walker on April 10, 2013 at 1:58am

"The Salivating Few.”

by Michaelw1two

madgirlslovesong and re-edited by michaelw1two

“the body of solid blue,
My Prayer;
that I, might clean away the rust,
in the crevasses, in the hinges, of my sick soul.
Come, with God and Gold and Pearl,
make them blue once;
with holy water,
Come peel away His hot eyes.
abrase my skins...
praise my sin...
Seethe sea shell charms, compare me,
collect me;
Boil red dinners, for which I indulged,
and bartered the pearls that sat
upon a satin pillow, inside my ribcage.
Brass -- Violence --
ghost sheets and halos—
Winds and wallops
a white sea
Laced by quantum oil spills
Shaken sparrow
prayer, flutter and ash-
the rush, of purple-winged shadows,
that strobe light knuckles;
to Deliver From Evil,
place upon packed clay,
a cell that ticks –
submit to the vertical bind,
Eden serpenting wrists and spine.
To stay is a question, an enemy,
built on the backs of atoms;
building, Eve's spare bones and ribs,
how to escape,
She Knew...
she flew...
not, from pride, but from friction,
the searing orgasm of resistance;
she dove-dived downward,
anticipating the raging ground.
The light illuminated,
the love lucid loss;
leaving, the bliss of the blind."

Michael Darrell Walker

Comment by Michael Darrell Walker on April 4, 2013 at 6:38pm

woolsey owl / march 2013

by Michaelw1two

inspired by wordworks of poewhit

who that
one wits’ curl
fun way truth..
tet, sure was proof
soft in the hooves
fun way truth..
loved justices’ glue
walked in sustenances' soul
fun way truth..
gives honestly that glance
integrity his amore’ blasts
fun way truth..
fit-n-trim, tight-n-slim
music’s, fined by who’s wind
fun way truth..
styles gots his girl
minds’ in that twirl
fun way truth..
seedless emptied baby
for a while yet lady
fun way, it’s that -- truth!!!

Michael Darrell Walker

Comment by Michael Darrell Walker on April 4, 2013 at 6:29pm

Dynamics for Dummies

[(penn-mar 91732) 2013 march]

by Michaelw1two

Diana Shores-
Dyna Jims-
Slym Gyms-
Busta Mores’-
Horry Shite Knaves:
Empty thought Sheaves:
What the Fuck: I sneezed!

Michael Darrell Walker

Comment by Michael Darrell Walker on April 3, 2013 at 2:23am

The Wall @ penn-mar 91732

by michaelw1two

“I use to live in a room full of mirrors”
Jimi Hendrix

Crooked stop signs,
Flies and left fisted lies;
Buttered, yellowed, belied; spokes centered;
Books, bricks, binoculars, and bright shite;
A binder, a mobile pedestal, duel axis, doodle-ing;
Right corner pissed upon, left corner neutron bombed;
And a para-legal, in a parley…
Pointed pin-head; why don’t you sleep in any bed?

Michael Darrell WalkerJohn
“read ‘em’ and weep”

Comment by Michael Darrell Walker on April 3, 2013 at 2:03am

Mind's Refuse

by michaelw1two

Inspired by the work of Alanna Young

My unclear mind’s refuse,
to read your deepest thoughts;
this hallowed consciousness,
now reamed of its trust;
the lack of you, beside me walked,
alone in teaching’s grasp;
they slowly close in fear,
as surrounding as mourn's weary weep;
all shadowed is my twin,
as I walk slowly there;
up towards that stairway,
leading our bonding home;
will’s wish be spoke,
into your embrace I long;
this thought, oh the tears,
upon my cheek now flow;
fore long, in suffering’s whet,
they no longer sow;
in example thus, to express,
my most profound love in too;
your thoughts do surely know mine,
and how I cry for yours;
that hate, which is my loneliness,
in our times apart;
this deep, this thing,
which turns my grace to thresh;
to my amaze, these locks and bindings,
keep me in heart’s loss;
with each wring, my soul is bared,
upon it’s line and age;
expose' the ending's rode,
at each and every gate;
so lost, I express the weakness,
that I do not smile;
and this owned one shown,
is anyone’s, and not the truth;
that doe so skewed,
within I’ve kept witch in, and in kind turn;
in chance, this dark escapes and arises,
in mind wherein;
and with ease this done,
as I’ve done ere before;
the truth of fading facts so true,
without you, there is such me;
to this, an only frown,
and never more to smile;
I need your tome, your tone,
your singing loud and edgy voice;
to wright my keel, and gently sail,
upon the winds of wings you bring;
your touch surrounds,
my spirit toils;
this soil I am,
to your yearning roots;
an essence gained,
is that you knowingly show;
upon my searching face,
to find the heat of your embrace;
this life, this breath, our nature’s gift,
the graving grace that is you;
release that first thought and bring,
brightness to my most profound dark;
yours is that strength,
that honesty, that brilliance sown;
to gently warm,
my weary of this world soul;
this, is that which feeds the need,
to fulfill my will;
and how this,
is needed sown by all;
to ease the chill,
that breeze which fear so breeds;
my spirit kneels,
in stunning stupor’s stain;
as the irreality of these spinning tines,
when gently plucked do toll;
my spirits veiled to that,
which you show, as life’s true bright;
this needs be to me,
through these eyes, it is I your seer;
my fear of loss, your light,
your love, your call;
self’s essence freed, my heart now bled,
my home is there with you.

Michael Darrell Walker

Comment by Brian Allossery on July 21, 2012 at 12:38am

Here is a poem left by an old man in Australia-

They found it after he died and it has gone viral on the internet apparently-

It gets right to the point-


Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . .. . .What do you see?
What are you thinking .. . when you're looking at me?
A cranky old man, . . . . . .not very wise,
Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . . .. with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food .. . ... . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . .'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice . . .the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . .. . . A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not . . . ... lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . .The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking?. .Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse .you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am . . . . .. As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, .. . . . as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten . .with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters .. . . .. . who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen . . . .. with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . .. . . a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows .. .. .that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now . . . . .I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . .. . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . .. With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons .. .have grown and are gone,
But my woman is beside me . . to see I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, .. ...Babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me . . . . My wife is now dead.
I look at the future ... . . . . I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing .. . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . And the love that I've known.
I'm now an old man . . . . . . .. and nature is cruel.
It's jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles .. .. . grace and vigour, depart.
There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass . A young man still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells
I remember the joys . . . . .. . I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living . . . . . . . life over again.
I think of the years, all too few . . .. gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people .. . . . .. . . open and see.
Not a cranky old man .
Look closer . . . . see .. .. . .. .... . ME!!



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