Love Poems About Psychological or Psychological Love Poems

Psychological love poems and/or love poems about Psychological. Read, share, and enjoy these Psychological love poems! Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for poems.

Poem Details | by Sandip Goswami |
Categories: culture, deep, emotions, loss, love, passion, psychological, relationship,

A Love Story

The girl is an ultra-modern scholar, 
Belongs with an upper-middle class family
Looking very nice, smart, gets angry suddenly
She reads M.A in English at Presidency University
She is assimilating to the ideas of Shakespeare, 
Shelley, Keats, Neruda, Byron...
Fluently speaks English, loves cricket
Shoulders are shaken by expression.
She cries alone, laughs with everyone....

The girl is very good.

The boy is a post-modern educated son of a lower-middle class family.
He studies M.A in Bengali at Calcutta University.
He is assimilating to the routes of Vaishnab literature,
Ideas of Bharatchandra, Rabindranath Tagore, Nazrul, Jibanananda...
Writes poems, sings song, loves football.
He walks on the high-street and observes people.
He laughs alone, listens to everyone...

The boy is very good.

They are attracted by the opposite personality!
The  girl wants that her lover will be a modern man.
The boy thinks that his lover will become as the mind of his
They are changing silently
Losing individuality.

Time flows.
Love goes to another address... 


Poem Details | by Emile Pinet |
Categories: how i feel, inspirational, psychological, women,

You Will Know Love

If you can make it through the day
Not concerned with what others say
If you can take the time to play
Yet get your work done come what may
If you win having never fought
And mend the bridges time has tore
Or be content with what you’ve got
And very rarely ask for more;

If you can make a house a home
And properly raise children too
If you can stay and never roam
And do it cause it’s what you do
If you can speak bad of no one
Cause gossip's not worth repeating
Or stick to a task till it’s done
And never think of retreating;

If you can keep your life savings
And not risk it on a gamble
And avoid expensive cravings
And allow your friends to ramble
If you can force yourself to cope
And do what it takes to survive
And live on little more than hope
And the will which keeps you alive;

If you can hold your head up high
Or stoop to help the poor and such
If you seek truth and not a lie
If you can heal with but a touch
If you can be mother and wife
And still find time for God above
Yours is the Earth and a good life
And what is more, you will know love!

Poem Details | by arthur vaso |
Categories: allusion, art, beauty, history, love, psychological,


Come to my boudoir Cheri
I am here all for thee
In red and lace
I shall entangle you will love
Entice you with lust
Tease you till desires run dry
You shall be the knight who rides my thigh
In the bonny highlands we shall have our romp
Meadows and fields of summer scent and breeze
I shall wrap you in my honey warmth
Mine, all mine you will be
Wrapped, entwined around my wee finger
Enslaved with love
My love
You belong all to me

Poem Details | by A.O. Taner |
Categories: beautiful, beauty, courage, cute love, dark, deep, depression, desire, destiny, devotion, dream, first love, funny love, grief, happiness, heart, heartbreak, heartbroken, how i feel, i am, i love you, i miss you, innocence, irony, jealousy, lonely, longing, loss, lost, love, love hurts, miss you, missing, missing you, night, passion, psychological, romance, romantic, sad, sad love, silence, sky, sleep, solitude, sunset, true love,

Red Light

have you ever felt like 
the flashing red light on the roof,
lonely as ever
visible at night, useless by day?

in sync with its partner next door
for a quick kiss over a few flashes only 
then arguing again and again 
night in, night out.

have you ever felt like 
the flashing red light on the roof,
not signaling a warning to keep away
but sending a call for compassion?

using the dark pauses in between 
to yell the same name 
over and over and over
into the emptiness of each night.

have you ever felt like
the flashing red light on the roof,
being your silent cry
only heard by your eternal love?

Poem Details | by Tasha Taylor |
Categories: boyfriend, funny love, girlfriend, psychological, relationship,


How is he?"

"Quite terrible, Miss.
He will not survive the night,
Probably not even the hour."

"What does he have?
Terminal cancer?
Cardiac Arrest?"

It is worse then all of those.
Even combined."

"Oh no! 
Can I see him?

"I imagine you can, Miss.
But that's the problem.
I'm afraid I can't treat him
Since I can't--"

"Doctor! Please tell me.
I love him
He's my boyfriend.
We have no secrets."

"Then you may wanna sit down.
Miss, I am sorry to inform you,
Your boyfriend is ailed with
A severe case of nonexistence."

Poem Details | by M.P. Shaudd |
Categories: depression, lost love, pain, psychological, sad, war,

Some Wounds Never Heal

He walked in with a load on his shoulder 
And a twenty pound pain in his heart
With the tears in his eyes he looked older
And he didn't even know where to start

He spoke of wartime memories
And the injuries that he'd sustained
Said sometimes he wished he'd never come home
Cause that's where he left all his pain

Some wounds never heal 
Some loves never part
When she said it was over and goodbye
That's when his world fell apart

In that letter he got on the front lines
It said I'm sorry I found someone new
I can't go on in fear and not knowing
All the sleepless nights I've worried bout you

Some wounds never heal 
Sometimes true love parts
Injuries of the flesh can be healed
Unlike those of the heart

Poem Details | by Stephen Bloom |
Categories: love, psychological, sexy, social,

Sex and the British

They’re drawing the curtains in Dorking,
Lighting the candles and pouring the lotions.
Switching off TV’s and shelving resentments,
Checking on children asleep in the darkness,
Creeping   up hallways   like teenage lovers.
Stairs and hopes creaking in equal measure.

Clothes  are  Falling   in Fulham.
Tights  in the hall and pants in the bathroom,
Bra on the shelf
And doubts in the kitchen,
As   newly  acquainted
Swap fluids and feelings,
Hoping for phone calls,
Instead of  diseases.

Lay byes are calling  in Luton,
Cars with their  lights on  wait on the verges,
Engines and pulses expectant   and purring,
Strangers stand round swapping cider  and sadness,
While a dozen  pale  bottoms nod in  the moonlight.

They’re re-lighting  fires  in Bolton,
Forgetting the  years of disinterest and boredom,
Of nights by the TV, tight lipped  and separate,
Silent pub meals and bad-tempered breakfasts.
Tracing the contours of flesh and forgiveness,
Opening like flowers,
Hoping for  closeness.

They’re turning the lights off in Reigate,
Closing their eyes and thinking of strangers,
Scarlet or George,
The Doctor, the cleaner,
The local MP or the teenage neighbour

Excitement is building in Brixton.
Fingers  are probing and gripping the carpet,
Bodies are merging and arguments fading,
The bills and the mortgage,
Frustrations and failures,
Pushed aside like regrets and the duvet..

Flesh is moving  in Folkestone,
Thighs  colliding and buttocks vibrating,
Tongues exploring  and hands rediscovering
Blood engorging  and nipples darkening,
Like  monsoon rain clouds,
Or over-cooked porridge.

The explosion is coming in  Eastbourne,
Necks  are straining and head boards rebounding
As thighs move faster, grow weary and slacken.
And grunting and gasping  gives way to elation,
The volcano erupts and  mine shaft convulses,
Horses break free
And  barriers lie broken.

The deluge has fallen  in Derby
Eyes make contact and souls fall   open,
Allowing brief entry of one life to another,
So even bored couples feel slightly connected,
While the lucky embrace,
Like shipwrecked sailors,
Listening in silence to mermaid and dolphin,
Singing of coral and sand and completeness.

They’re comfy as sofas in Sutton
Lying in gloom and watching the ceiling,
Thinking of  love and  looking for tissues, 
Swallowing tea  and checking their emails.
Making small talk about gardens and daytrips,
Feet and hearts meeting,
Under the covers.

Poem Details | by Tamal Kundu |
Categories: abuse, angst, death, lost love, love, mental illness, psychological, symbolism,


And here we are again, my love, under one more bullock cart night, devoid of care, ageless in joy. Clingy as sand are the actions of past. Forgive, my love, forget as well, devoid of care, ageless in joy. For long had I raged and hated the tide that took you far adrift. But now, my love, I know by heart it was leading you to me swift. The man you called, “My love,” my love, was not better a man than me. He crushed your soul beneath his thumb, and noosed the husk with glee. So here I stand, a gun in hand, tall at your grave, my love. Crows caw in nest when owls destroy, devoid of care, ageless in joy.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: 09 / 12 / 2016 Contest: Duplex Sponsor: Jan Allison

Poem Details | by Diana Dinca |
Categories: lost love, love hurts, meaningful, metaphor, philosophy, psychological,

Poison and wine

I’ve got poison on my lips
And in my glass, red wine.
I’ve got you in my bloodstream
And this porcelain heart of mine.

I’ve got oceans in my veins
And to sail them, you alone.
I’ve got a blood-stained hurricane
And you wear my poison as cologne.

You’ve got a storm beneath your skin
And then a storm’s what you become.
I’ve got my fire to remind you
Who burned and made you come undone.

See more at:

Poem Details | by Vasudha Rohatgi |
Categories: abuse, hurt, loneliness, lost love, love hurts, psychological, sad love,

Let Me Burn

Like the light entering a diamond, 
I cannot escape your embrace; 
you have trapped every breath of mine-
every part of me, 
torturously tucked into a glass showcase.

You’ve sipped my patience with a straw-
all the life in me, 
you’ve murdered, murdered, my dear! 
You’ve murdered with a smile on your face

Reflecting from the walls of this glass, are my memories.
Bouncing off the walls of my cage, are my memories.
Burning in the idle oxygen that I don’t breathe, are my memories.
Chocking the rationale of my mind, are my memories, 
of you.

They have devoured me whole, 
as I now drift through these chasms with walls that reverberate, 
with respect, disgust, admiration, contempt, love and hate 
for you

These are the feelings that rise in me; 
mutiny has inflamed the walls of my heart, 
it is you who cannot see your own faults,
the way you have scorched my skin, 
the way you have torn me away for my kin, 
the way you have cut me, limb from limb, apart

It doesn’t have to be this way, 
realize this, I cannot and do not want to stay
With demonic charms you had swayed me, led my heart astray, 
you abandoned it in one of your cells of hell, my heart, you did betray

So you must, through one way or the other, let me go, 
you could release me from your brute arms, 
let my spirt, with the wind, blow

Thus, you must, through one way or the other, let me go,
you could strip my lifeless body of the remaining fragments of my soul, 
let the remainder burn in the incinerators of the past, 
let the time drown out and dissipate the smoke,
no one will see me burn, no one will ever know.

Poem Details | by Laura Breidenthal |
Categories: angst, conflict, endurance, love, psychological, sorrow, strength,

The Crab

You wish me to say those words,
To love you

Surely you mean to win me
As I exhale my expostulations 
Some hidden truth
That you think you understand
You mean to squeeze out of me
Some sacred confession
As I engorge your pride
With poisonous lies

You want me to love you
You demand it of me
And I pale!
I pale at the thought of such a declaration 
I pale at the past 
As it stings me every which way
I cry out and bleed over it
I remember his sweet voice
I remember his hands
As they held my love
Soon all of it was his own
All of it was there in his palm
He watched it crumble away on him
Dead orchids destined for earth's soil
They fell away, inevitably
And my dust left no blemish

You want me to say it still
But I pale as I remember 
The promises he made 
To me
They meant the world 
And yet,
It was I who begged in the end 
It was I who reached out
A planet orbiting a star
With no reply 
With no reaction
And he blamed depression
He blamed himself
And all of life's bustle 
I let the currents take me
My voice drowning in the universe

I have grown accustomed to these ghosts
Passing through irrevocably 
Trusting only in themselves 
Indulging in their pleasures
I go through them everyday 
They only exist 
Because I scream them 

And you, the crab
Retreat into your shell, 
Ostensibly wounded by my refusal
You save your pincers for another day
I will reach inside your core before I say it
I will cross ecstacy's shore 
I will lace my fingers in your softest part
And I'll watch your eyes
As I find the glimmer where it lies 

Feb 25, 2018 

Poem Details | by Line Gauthier |
Categories: anger, break up, dark, hurt, lost love, psychological, sad,


When will that deafening silence stop
When will the gnawing craving disappear
And the pointless waiting stop

Is it a crime to have loved
Must I pay for having given freely
Must I be punished for having believed
Must I do time for having been so naïve

I was whole I felt great I thought I had it all
Then I met you
And that was the beginning of the end

Now I feel empty lost and in pain
If time heals it doesn’t heal fast enough
And all for a few precious superficial moments
For a short ride on the sea of illusion

Submitted on April 30, 2018, for contest FREE VERSE ON LOVE (NEW POEM) sponsored by LAURA LOO  -  RANKED 3RD

Poem Details | by Zamreen Zarook |
Categories: age, allah, courage, day, dedication, education, fantasy, feelings, kids, freedom, friendship, future, girl, growing up, happy, heaven, how i feel, husband, life, love, marriage, me, men, mirror, mom, mother, my child, people, psychological, relationship, self, simple, social, sorry, student, success, sympathy, teen, teenage, thank you, thanks, thanksgiving, words, youth,

Thank you

Thank you – Zamreen Zarook

Thank you is a sweet word in the nature,
You may be a guy of adventure,
May be you are a person of agriculture,
What matters is your architecture.

Never forget the people, who guided you,
In no degree neglect who were with you,
Don’t ever overlook a creature, who gave a smile to you,
Because, you will meet them above you.

People forget the past due to selfishness,
They have no time to remember their unawareness,
Society, most of the times behave in awfulness,
They will understand when their lives come in to bitterness.

Be a person to thank and remember,
Don’t consider them as December,
Because, you might need them in November,
So, always be as a good subscriber.

Poem Details | by Reynaldo Mast |
Categories: absence, anxiety, childhood, confusion, depression, desire, psychological,

Q: Mothers' Love Part 2

What is a mother’s love? 
It was stripped from me,
Pain is in my heartbeat, 
This sorrows me, 
Never again
I trust love,
A faint trauma that wakes me 
From my slumber where I lay
An echo in my soul, mind, heart, my being
What is a mother’s love?
Unconditional people say, 
But does that make sense to me?
Can anyone explain why it doesn't make sense?
I have grown weary and I found the answer
Doubts that can stain a child when growing 
Up to an adult,
Fear, Pain, Lust, Love, Trust,
Blindly Opening the door to it
The gentleness that has been taken away from me
Saddens me

Books can convey words, but not emotions of the soul
Not the argument of the mind,
It falls in humanity, because I am human I learn
I learned that learning is the key to knowing, 
But not all emotional learning comes from knowledge
Thinking sorrows and the answer lies
It changes with each person, 
That is confusing 
But one thing is that a key of learning is
Listening to each other’s words, 
And that people that needs to be listened to
Like to hear the simple less things and that softness of words
The gentleness of hope never needs questioning
What is a Mother’s Love?

Poem Details | by Caleb Calvo |
Categories: art, deep, destiny, emotions, feelings, future, psychological,

Would You Still Love Me

Would you still love me,
If I was a beast?
Would you still love me,
If I had ravenous urges?
Would you still love me,
If I lived in a cave made of yeast?
Would you still love me,
If I loved eating poisonous spurges?

Would you still love me,
If I had a mental illness?
Would you still love me,
If I had a low IQ?
Would you still love me,
If my eyes were crossed with stillness?
Would you still love me,
If my head was tiny like a shrew?

Would you still love me,
If I had a leg amputation?
Would you still love me,
If I had only three fingers on my hand?
Would you still love me,
If I believed in reincarnation?
Would you still love me,
If I didn't have the ability to stand?

Would you still love me,
If I'm not the man of your dreams?
Would you still love me,
If was unable to full fill all your needs?
Would you still love me,
If I was deaf, unable to hear your screams?
Would you still love me, 
If I couldn't fix your heart that bleeds?

"Would You Still Love Me" Contest Entry

Poem Details | by Rhoda Monihan |
Categories: business, care, character, courage, discrimination, emotions, freedom, friendship, future, happiness, heart, hero, history, hope, identity, inspiration, inspirational, introspection, leadership, life, light, lonely, love, meaningful, muse, passion, peace, people, philosophy, political, psychological, remember, remembrance day, rights, self, senses, strength, truth, veterans day, voice, war, work, world war ii,

May Life Bless You

May life bless you with real freedom, 
Keep enjoyment as your place, 
May you find your own confidence, 
From your education and your space;
May you entertain discernment,
Whilst fulfilling your desires,
And may platitude be rescinded, 
By real love in your eyes.

May life be all it can be, 
May your realities come from your dreams, 
May your work become your eulogy, 
And may your identity give your memes

May you receive more than you give, 
And see reason when there's none,
May your friends light your inside,   
May you give hope to those with one;
May you save the exploited from oppression,
By making despair to you most personal,
And may equality be the standard,
For your repudiation of its dismissal.

May life be all it can be, 
May your realities come from your dreams, 
May your work become your eulogy, 
And may your identity give your memes

May you always uphold justice, 
Even in dark and uncertain times,
When faced with honest requests, 
And its unsettled times sometimes; 
May you do what’s right no problem, 
Not questioning the strain, 
Nor grumbling about the consequences, 
Of morality’s devoted love train

May life be all it can be, 
May your realities come from your dreams, 
May your work become your eulogy, 
And may your identity give your memes

May your diamond be stalwart honour,
For war heroes old and injured,
Tormented by battlefields and sights,
Of the mangled and beleaguered; 
May you testify to fact and truth, 
And publish what you know;
And may reason be your sociology, 
To dictatorial governments overthrow

May life be all...

May you respect others in esteem, 
For kindness and achievement,
May you follow those you understand, 
As beautiful in accomplishment;
May you undertake endeavours, 
Which ramify the other unstudied, 
By embracing love and laughter, 
As whispers of grace embodied

May life be all..

May you always say what’s inside,
Whilst giving other people a chance,
Trusting them with your memories, 
That history upon which you cannot glance; 
May you always speak your mind, 
To make rationality your guide, 
And in dignity confide and correct, 
To let the delinquent within you abide

May life be all..

May your philosophies be trophied,
As a garland by the lonely,
And may your way be warmly accepted, 
Without negotiation or apology;
May righteousness be your hallmark,
And caring thought your attribution, 
And may you prevail generally as a good person, 
Bringing light where there’s intrusion

Poem Details | by Gerald Dillenbeck |
Categories: body, culture, dream, earth, love, psychological, slavery,

I Am Not His Property

I wake up with a great startle.

My Obama EarthTribe CoOperative WinWin GlobalVillage Dream
was merely my hibernation.
I dreamed we share richly valued properties from healthy-wealthy African Elders,
but awake, once again,
only to painfully remember
I am now merely His disinvested property.

I have become enslaved by His addictions to LeftBrain supremacy,
entitlement to compete,
not for Win/Lose survival,
but, now, more ultimately and climatically,
for His self-aggrandizing scent
of Western White StraightMale entitlement,
naked privilege to commodify others,
to colonize us domesticated quasi-Loser Also Rans,
by raising barbed wire electric fences,
fueled with depleting oil and coal and formerly healthy soil and souls
and air and water,
now recombining toward His Perfect Storm,
His hate-producing Plantation.

Not everyone needs cotton,
but every mindbody can consume and reproduce hate.
Hate sells and commodifies potential African/EurAsian RightBrain Elder love-health properties, 
cooperatively owned and held and shared and transacted 
WinLeft-WinRight MindBodies.

I hate waking up this way,
mere property of Him,
when I can still remember my dream.
We share cooperative-integral-multicultural properties
of BlackElders,
nurturing brown-skinned Earth Mammas
singing rich contralto Exodus
and ReGenesis WinWin full-harmonic anthems.

We shall overcome,
with love of these same shared Elder properties,
what He would capture and enslave as hate like Him,
as EgoConserving-Autonomous empty Hubris,
absence of integrity,
confusing this dawn of and for conserving Earth's climates of gratitude
for shared multiculturing Elder health-wealth properties,
dissembling active hope with WinLose supremacist strategies
for further beheading powers to own me
through His self-addicted
LeftBrain EgoSupremacy
on this new cooperative dawn of Yang/Yin integrity
with LeftDeductive/RightInductive conserve-progress reproductivity,
reweaving not so much hate about His needs
treating me as His mere commodity,
to free Him and me to love how we both cooperatively share
our AfricanElder EarthMother healthwealth fertile properties.

God bless his StraightWhite Master shrinking heart.
He's doing his LeftBrain UberYang best
to keep all His self-condemning ego-conserving slaves apart
for fear we could remember
this cooperative on and off-line potential
to sing our songs
and dance our marches
of circling love
so AfricanMatriarchal Peaceful,
rich fertile Yintegrating Flow of karmic eco-redeeming grace.

No one shrinking heart of fear-mangled RightBrain RePression
could build sufficient firewalls of confusion and fake news
fast enough to contain this viral tsunami of love's peaceful
healthy Left-Right balancing ReGenerative Wealth ReSolution.

This Plantation,
unlike His other privately-held corporations,
is cooperatively owned and administered
by all us former slaves of colonialism,
stretching our LeftHealth/RightWealth grappling dawn
of Let My People Go
through WinWin mutual responsibility
of self-governing
self-helping cooperativity 
as sung through centuries
by BlackMatriarchal EarthLovers.

Poem Details | by William Masonis |
Categories: anger, conflict, depression, life, lost love, nature, pain, psychological, relationship, weather,

The Human Seasons: Elements At War and Peace, Part II


Bourne loosely through the chill gusts,
Disordered fragments of summer's life go hurried by,
Harried to their last resting places
Into piles of brittle, browning drifts
Scattered on the stiffening ground.
A cold sun, coursing ever more briefly
Across these hard, blue-white skies,
Presides above a sleeping landscape steeped in dying hues,
The last fanfare of the greens of life
Draining now into  starkness
As nature sheds her flesh and slows
To pose in cold stillness between her cycles
Of life and death,
Waiting, as winter's uncertain, barren bride.

In the house where the anger rang against the walls
The red thoughts of their minds have burnt away
To leave behind that sour feeling
That sinks to sorrow
Now that pride has stepped in to break the bridges
Of charity they might have built back to one another.

Between them those virtues which bind us all together,
The formalities and incidents
The long parade of small things that make up a shared life,
Go on together as always, in smooth procession day to day
The image of harmony exists,
Though not its substance.
They know from this the weight of the awkward silences
Falling between them now and again
Dropping like stones into the deepening pools
Of unspoken discontents forming in their hearts;
The ripples of sadness climbing in widening rings
To skim the surfaces of their speech
As the breezes blown down through the sapphire sky
Tear the detritus of summer's corpse from its enfeebled moorings
And fling the bits of yesterday's blazing beauty
Into pell-mell drifts against foundations and sills,
As spark-scattered frosts gather more thickly
With every lengthening night.

Poem Details | by Jacob Reinhardt |
Categories: age, analogy, art, beauty, dream, earth, feelings, freedom, friendship, growth, happiness, happy, how i feel, i love you, introspection, joy, language, life, light, love, memory, metaphor, mirror, nature, passion, peace, philosophy, poems, psychological, relationship, science, self, senses, teacher, time, truth, visionary, voice, water, wisdom, world, write, writing, youth,

Who Am I

A new photograph floats to the surface
Playfully dressing up as the world around me
Hat, striped socks and all
Tiptoeing at the top for one last sweet moment 
Before sinking back into my ocean mind.

One after another they arrive
Single file,
Steeping my eyes in the world 
As the minds shutter, ever fluttering 
Strings together this conscious stream I play in.

My photographs fade in time’s wrinkled arms.
Joining their brothers and sisters at the ocean floor,
They hold hands and try to answer the question that is always asking itself:
Who am I?

Jacob Reinhardt

Poem Details | by Gail Foster |
Categories: break up, computer, humorous, love, poetry, psychological, technology,

Robot Boy, censored version

So robots write poetry now Here's what I think of that.

Yer shiny enough, Robot Boy
Yer hard as a shard of rock
You never run out of energy
You and yer digital clock
Sex isn’t problematic
There isn’t an issue, you know
Just wipe you off with a dampened cloth
And then you’re good to go
I don’t love you, Robot Boy
You’re not my one and only
I keep you in the cupboard just
For moments when I’m lonely
But now a ghost in the machine
Has affected yer circuitry
Ridiculous algorithms making
Mechanical poetry
You’re hardly a Parker or Larkin
Your verse gets much worse with each byte
I have to tell you, Robot Boy
Yer poetry’s hogwash, alright?
You’re not making me juices flow
With yer hexadecimal rant
Where’s the amo amas amat
Amamus amatis amant
Where’s the chuffing soul in it
It’s far too formulaic
Give me an unexpected twist
And something a bit archaic
Oh, yer metre’s simply textbook
Get you with yer perfect pentameters
Adhering to all the rules of form
Within the expected parameters
There’s no chuffing joy in it, Robot Boy
In yer tedious black and white
Oh, you’ve cracked me one off one about rainbows (yawn)
Bet that’s an interesting write
It’s not like you want to woo me
You’re programmed to say it like this
There’s zero soul in yer empty words
That leave me as cold as your kiss
You’re not a poet, Robot Boy
Yer not Shelley, or Byron, or Wilde
You’ve never screamed in the wild winds
Or dreamed the world as a child
I’m just going to dump you, Robot Boy
Calculate that, methinks
‘Cos you turn me off with yer binary thing
And frankly, yer poetry stinks

© Gail Foster 2016

Poem Details | by Gerald Dillenbeck |
Categories: culture, health, love, political, power, psychological, trust,

What I Didn't Know

People, Places, and Things I Didn't Know I Trusted

I rather suddenly, and belatedly,
realized I trust the highest and best use for language,
for every community and communication of faith,
for every school and pedagogical political enculturation,
for every farm and forest,
for every government, including self-replicating government,
for every recreation and arts center,
for every human and animal and Earth service agency,
for every family and tribe and species,
for every ego centered identity
of every age past and to come,
is to become the very best PermaCultural Designers and Developers possible,
to achieve outstanding Continuous Quality Improvement
Health and Safety ecological balance,
inclusive of multi-regenerational outcomes.
Our highest and best polyculturing vocations,
given our current ego as anthrocentric health v pathology situation
and creation story.

Our PostMillennial Creation Story
began in response to an AgriBusiness As Usual environment
moving away from balanced political and economic norms
about harvesting what you plant,
transgender, and transgenerational complementary equivalence
of authority and responsibility.

This PostMillennial PermaCultural pedagogy of poli-economic design
and development
draws on older nutritional root systems,
reseeding agribusiness norms
with cooperative poli-economic principles 
for not only planting mutual subsidiarity
and harvesting complementarity of regenerative health-trends,
but also incorporates polypathic hunting and decompositional gatherings
of mutually enriching engorging celebration of wisdom 
through past and future generations,
assuming a benign cooperative (0)-zone interest
co-arising trusting 0-Soul Host
incarnating our landscaped universe of mutually subsidiary parasites,
cooperatively loving our health-balancing yin-principle
of integral-complementarity,
co-empathic trust,
integrity of health-normed polyculturing evolutionary compass.

In PermaCulture Design environments,
communication follows and leads a nutritionally-intended flow stream,
with both confluent and some dissonant suboptimizing resonance,
but producing basic healthy trust in WinWin communication
within and between Informed/Exforming/Exformed/Reforming potential.
"Waste" is pathology, loss,
dissonance within outcomes,
but heard as a potential poli-economic resource,
a suffering that will teach us something
we need to learn 
about how to never plan for WinLose outcomes.
Never settle for less than (0)-remainder Ego-ReGenerative Trust,
CoArising Empathic Balance.

In PermaCulture Development planning,
our first rule is to do no harm,
following the principle of mutual subsidiarity.
A corollary of note to program and policy developers
and contract writers
and pundits,
be careful about what and whom we ask for,
rather than with,
and where we may under- and over-project
ecological healthy outcomes in response to client investment.

When organizing and developing well-integrated ecosystems,
we optimize design by giving political preference
to self-organizing,
cooperative empowerment Principles of Complementarity,
what Bucky Fuller comprehended more universally as Synergy,
and Love of healthy integrating balance-harmonics.

Community organizers and builders,
religious co-empathic trust organizers,
international communication developers and discerners,
public and private therapeutic dialogue facilitators,
health lobbyists and economists,
all recognize that where one ends up
is hugely and persistently boundaried
by where and when and why one starts.

Business As Usual
does not trust mutual subsidiarity
except in embryonic through innocent young child incarnations,
with DNA-driven original ecosystemic norms 
of fractal-complementary fold/unfold thermodynamic balance.

But my more permacultural business as usual
begins with diversely entwined
mutually defining and enriching,
protecting and promoting,
grassroot and vision-seed investors,
wisely trusting our multicultural anthrocentric planning process 
and nutrition-balancing budget.

My PermaCulture Trust in integral,
and sacred principles of complementarity
operates under and within geometric,
systemic primal relationship assumptions
of kosmic original intent:
We are all poli-economically within this Golden Rule Universe together.
regardless of species or ecosystemic dialect and rhythm of identity,
is a potential Golden Rule PermaCultural Ally,
in a (0)-core landscaped Universe.

Metaphor and story,
analogy and biology,
ecology and teleology and theology,
syllogisms and algorithms
mutually comprehend this eternal moment's orthopraxis
of (0)-footprint bicameral co-empathic trust.

This radical and profound active trust
is our complementary faith
in time's unfolding nutritional balance,
our understory of pedagogical deep-learning structures
found within religion,
minds as also bodies,
moments and days and years and centuries of evolving history,
ReGenerative Open EcoSystemic Design.

If this PermaCulture word had been visible to Bucky Fuller,
writing about synergetic bio- and eco-systems,
he might have entitled his universalist prosepoetry
and design scriptures
PermaCultural System Design and Development.

When Thomas Kuhn's Problem of Incommensurability
points to
Solutions of CoEmergent MultiParadigmatic MultiRegenerational Commensurability,
then I recognize dissonance
within a more resonant meta-paradigm
as more than hopeless suffering.

We act in cooperative trust
that dissonant
Absence of Potential Resonance,
feelings of poli-economic longing for relational resolution,
become our teachers of opportunities 
to avoid monocultural-trending climatic ego-identity crises.

Noticing absence of fully matured relational trust
unveils potential for more deeply integrating
exegetical truths of mutual subsidiarity 
with eisegetical agapic-beauty of complementary vocations.

Why settle for self or other;
not healthy-wealth WinWin?

Poem Details | by Gene Bourne |
Categories: allusion, assonance, celebration, desire, emotions, feelings, giving, image, longing, love, night, people, psychological, together,

Frosted Windows

Eyes reflect a fireplace glowing, 
Moonlight has its luring say
Wrest the cork, the wine is flowing, 
Laughter eases care away

Glasses clink through frosted windows
Reminisce when first they meet
Face to face on propping elbows, 
Whispers pillows ever keep

Passion molds a cryptic sculpture 
Shaped without a reason why
Love creates a mystic culture, 
Words attempt but can't define.

Gene Bourne 

Poem Details | by A.O. Taner |
Categories: beautiful, color, dream, fantasy, feelings, for her, good morning, green, hello, how i feel, humanity, innocence, inspiration, inspirational, joy, life, light, lost love, love, meaningful, miracle, miss you, missing, missing you, music, nature, passion, places, psychological, red, sexy, simple, soulmate, sound, summer, sun, sunshine, truth,

Sound of Colors

I woke up to the sound of colors
from a misty dream 

heard the blue bells ringing
and a trombone playing the cream

a pink rhapsody kissed my lips 
as the sun climbed into our bed

whispering a love song 
in yellow, orange, and red.

Poem Details | by Chris Boskovski |
Categories: abuse, age, beautiful, blue, city, crazy, cry, dark, evil, goodbye, horror, how i feel, london, lost, miss you, missing, missing you, night, poverty, power, psychological, relationship, romance, romantic, sad, sad love, sick, sin, stress, suicide, summer, sun, water, woman, world, write, writing,

Can you feel me

Feel me standing there
on the draw bridge
that stands stubburn and erect
over the rushing waters blown by the wind
back and forth.
I listened to the crows
posted on gargoils designed
of eightenth century Gothic architecture
singing their death songs,
when the sun is setting in the far.

The voices of women passing
startle me with a feeling of sorrow
I can't breathe, I am dying.
Feel me, can you feel me rot away?
Slowly but surely rot away
as time passes with ease,
and taxi cabs take smiling, intoxicated faces
to wayward cafes, oh how they screech to a halting stop
and wave to me to get in.

"No thank you, I'd rather walk." I say to the smiling faces
highly intoxicated with the thought of the birds and the bees
rattling around in their empty minds.
Then they drive off, into the city lights and turn a darkened corner.
I look at the rushing water
and feel myself rot away
slowly but surely rot away.

Can you feel me?
Can you hear me?
Can you see me?
Feel my heart thump with slow paces
that manage to keep up with fast melodies.
Of songs that play in your mind
only the ones that make you sigh
and think those one days in Spring time
as you walked over the draw bridge
and paid no mind to the water underneth.
I hear no more talk of you and me, I hear no more talk
of the good old times we all shared.
Time has passed, as I take my last breathe
and hold my chest and shead a tear.
Feel me, can you?
If you can, put your hand to my weak heart 
and feel it thump away with every second wasted
on useless items.
Now, see me a man of one time greatness
reflect his life with a reflection in the water below.
How I sigh and cry and breath heavely,
as I feel myself rot away.

The voices of woman pass me by.
Tomorrow is a new day,
for the smiling faces in taxi cabs will go home
and soak their raging hangovers with cool, wet rags.
As I still stand on the draw bridge singing with the crows,
feeling myself rot away.

Can you feel me without you, rotting away?
I surely can feel myself rot.
Such a heavy word, "rot"
So vulgare, yet a great description of me,
without you.

I pull out a shawl you once wore and I kiss it.
As the wind gusts and the sun rises and my shadow
comes to meet me, the wind shall take my last memory
of you away.
And I shall weep no more.
Then what will I do? Shall I walk the streets
and think of you.
Yes you, still rambling all throughout my head
like a lose screw.
Can you feel me? Feel me rot away
feel me think about you, and all your works.
Can you feel me?

Poem Details | by Gerald Dillenbeck |
Categories: culture, environment, love, nature, psychological, science, senses,

Integrity v Hypocrisy

What exactly is our primal and primary agenda?

To optimize ecological health
endosymbiotically and ectosymbiotically,
both within and without,
yet nondually;
two Yang/Yin
faces of our universal permacultural love project--
sometimes rather loosely called "human nature."

There is nothing even the most ruthless sociopath could do
to stop this evolutionary advent,
because this positive health culture
emerges from competitive monocultural Business As Usual
as day emerges from night,
as summer springs forth from winter's dual-dark purgation
of matter synergizing energetic root systems,
decomposing regenetic folds of time's co-arising gravity.

Ego is my local environment
struggling to breathe within ecologos,
balancing nature-systems.

Consistent reiteration of gratitude
for each breath
and heart beat
and thought or silence
co-arises cosmological synergy;
Endo- within ecto-symbiotic
positive evolution.

An articulating economy of love
grows co-arising generosity as stimulant,
with gratitude as uniting integral response.
This metasystemic stimulus-response
as diastolic generosity-gratitude
establishes a positive double-binding trend
toward polyculturally inclusive outcomes.

Effective permaculturists produce self-optimizing 
polyculturally beloved outcomes;
binomially political balancing systemic, 
and positive psychological.

Poem Details | by Jim Pemberton |
Categories: bible, character, christian, courage, dedication, devotion, faith, family, god, happiness, heart, hope, inspiration, inspirational, introspection, jesus, life, love, people, psychological, relationship, religion, religious, social, spiritual, spoken word, today, uplifting,

The Fear of the Lord Brings Wisdom

The Fear of the Lord Brings Wisdom!

The fear of the lord is the beginning of wisdom.
This is a helpful key to enter his kingdom!

This encourages a reverence
for his holy name!
Having God’s wisdom, can spare us,
 so much shame!

God loves and cares for us! 
 And listens when we pray!
Through his son Jesus, 
his love has been displayed!

He’s given to us his word,
 as a way to remind us…
We may get lost…  
But God’s love will find us!

Having a Godly fear, will nourish the soul!
Having his wisdom will help
 make us whole!

Won’t you seek the Lord?
While he may be found?
He can pick you up, when you feel
 you’re losing ground!

Come one and all! 
 All of heaven does proclaim…
Anything you need… 
 You can find in Jesus’ name!

Please, dear lord, bring your
 presence and love!
And guide us with your wisdom
 and spirit from above!

By Jim Pemberton

Poem Details | by arthur vaso |
Categories: deep, hate, humanity, immigration, perspective, psychological, sad,

Tainted Love

Oh Donald
Kiss me
Is valentines
You know I am ok
And ok and ok

We are both men
My love and devotion is true
You will build a wall
And keep out the jew, the arab, and the indian too

You will make sure the blacks are put in place
This is what’s best for the human race
Keep those Mexicans in their southern slums
Make sure their employment adds up to none

Protect me from the Muslims
Save me from the evil Steve Jobs
That Syrian was so iBad iBad iBad and all
He terrorized Bill Gates, but that’s about all

I know people hate you
Those tainted souls
Wanting love and unity
Shame on those goals!!!

I love you Donald
My Donald Duck
The quack of my heart
Tearing us all apart

Poem Details | by Gerald Dillenbeck |
Categories: appreciation, happiness, health, love, metaphor, myth, psychological,

StepSister Princess

No! Cut this piece here!
No! Not there!
Why didn't you cut it right?

says Princess StepSister's
hyper-ventilated syndrome,
jonesing for her next pork chop.

I would have finished
but you bellowed me away
in your Ugly StepSister voice
demanding from open refrigerator door
that collard greens must stop evaporating
behind your eyes.

Ugly StepSister?
Did you just call me a StepSister?

I'm just saying
you think you're a Whatever Princess
but you don't act like one
because, as you know,
princesses are always kind
and say please and thank you
and not whatever,
and seldom if ever bark and bite 
at the hands created to lovingly feed them
for the next several years;

while Ugly StepSisters
act like whatever bullies,
talk like ballistic assault weapons.

Which is why
Cinderellas are selected to dance
with Prince Charmings,
and thereby become kind Princesses,
rather than stuck in Ugly StepSister roles and rules,
harping at Prince Charming Dads
to cut their pork chops faster,
and better,
and now,
if not yesterday.

Would you cut my pork please, in smaller pieces,
and not take your usual gimpy time, thank you?

Why of course my Princess,
I love to live your Prince Clumsy.

Poem Details | by Gerald Dillenbeck |
Categories: anger, fear, love, nature, peace, political, psychological,

Loving Defiance

Punishing for revenge,
could this occur to natural systems
without capacity to imagine alternative futures?

Punishing others for their defiant behavior,
actions and words stronger than merely ignorant
bolder than merely angry with each other, and ourselves,
but how much more
to accurately measure fair consequences
for words of anger
compared to more aggressive, too often violent,

If I had never been a victim of another's vengeance,
violence of word and deed,
intent and practice to exercise power of revenge
against a defiant world,
including me,
however unwittingly, 
would all defiance in my life
calm down into more generic anger
about fear of living while still dying alone,
haunting dreams of chronic claustrophobic stress?

Perhaps my defiance was merely being who I really am,
but it didn't look right through your vengeance lens of opportunity
A safer mark becomes another punished victim
growing increasingly defiant and/or depressed.

Repressive chronic stress
echoing post-partum critical stress disorder,
and fear of Ego's demise
predicting total loss of sensory consciousness,
loss of love co-arising Time and Life,
CoPresent TransParent Consciousness,
Communicant of InFormating Memory Strains.

If no defiant anger,
then no punishing revenge.
If no revengeful lack of therapeutic mercy,
then no fear-filled anger,
opening each moment's life
to love's new old possibilities.

An empire of nations and tribes,
and sometimes mobs and klans,
invested in competing my anger against your fear.

Evil intent and competitions will suboptimized Live 
by divesting of truly symbiotic evolution,
settling for lack-of-love anger management,
yet faithing nondual co-arising health regeneration trends
for all Earth's Tribes,
but only worshiped as NotNot HumanNatural EcoSystemic 
Universal Timeless Power and ReStorative Function
by HumanNatural EcoSystems,
perversely enough

An empirically deductive-dominant historical culture
falls defiantly apart,
angry and afraid,
to open unoccupied space for empathic nondual love,
peacefully interdependent governance,
mutually subsidiary co-mentoring ego/eco balance therapists
advocating contentment of cooperative ecosystems
over contention of competitive  political-economic systems,
designing and developing merciful justice 
as active pay-it-forward peace.

PreMillennial Tyranny of angry frightening gods and destiny
fading before Great Transition Bodhisattva Warriors
finding good humor in mutual co-existing on Earth as Host,
serving nutritious composting manna,
to all permacultural role-models
aspiring toward polycultural outcomes,
BiCameral Occupier-Parasites 
filled with nuclear-neural folding and unfolding regeneratively-timed virus,
benign merger messages of deductive/inductive-empathic balance,
like breathing in and out,
to produce healthier and safer outcomes than revenge,
followed by more defiance, etc.

Revenge breeds defiance
as forgiveness and zero-interest investments
breed co-arising love/live and nutritional prosperity.

Forgiving defiance,
whether personal or political,
whether economic or environmental,
predicts optimal revenge
of loving anger and fear
as they co-mentor our selves,
our cells,
our memory of time,
both day and night bicameral.

Poem Details | by Gokul Alex |
Categories: age, analogy, autumn, beautiful, celebration, creation, desire, dream, earth, emotions, farm, first love, future, girl, grief, growing up, happiness, image, introspection, joy, kiss, language, love, marriage, metaphor, mother, philosophy, poems, poetry, psychological, rain, river, sea, seasons, self, senses,

A Farmer's Eyes and a Sailor's Shadow

A thorough yield
On a farm field of far east
It took me time to realize
How far I am to my far east of coast

Call of my weather
Call of my winds
I sailed further and farther
To my naked coasts
Naive songs, Nimble rains
Nile of rivers, Nascent clouds

Reaching this far
I kissed my earth
Ground of my grief
Glory of my ghosts
Glad is those leaves
However scanty they are

Cast is my shadows
No longer they hide
My colors and my figures
They cast numbers on stars
Measure their light
Scope my winters
Scale my summers
Scanty my rains
Scuttle I wish my springs

Now let me see my greens
Their leveling heights
Their leafy gaze
Their spiderly gesture
Their primordial texture
Now let me be slow
In company of my greens

#Poem by +Gokul Alex