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In your lip-bowl,
I poured a drop
of  red wine,
mystically
you  sipped it;
later it became
a poem of  lust !

In your eye-whirl,
I dropped a tear
of deep grief,
mystically
you liked it;
later it became
a pearl of love !

On your breast-wings
I touched mildly
once for all,
mystically
you took off:
later that became
a mole of pain !
*

By Williamsji Maveli

Email:williamsji@yahoo.com
Williamsji, (Williams George),   former Ras Al Khaimah based Journalist and lyrist of yester-years has been nominated for a literary award for the first time for literature. The Award is being formulated by KGA  (Kallettumkara Global Association, UAE Chapter) for  outstanding contributions to literature  from the native writers  of Kallettumkara,  a village town in Trichur, Kerala in India.  The award will be presented by the KGA’s UAE Chapter on the grand occasion of their 10th anniversary, which will be held during September, this year, according to Mathew David, Chairman of Kallettumkara Global Association.
Williamsji was born on 23, April 1954  in Kalettumkara village, Thrissur District, Kerala State, in India.  Williams George, popularly known as Williamsji, Irinjalakuda during early 1970’s  wrote simple romantic, enchanting  lyrics in Malayalam  language , scribbling from four lines to fourteen lines ( called a sonnet ) wrote as many lyrics suitable to depict in love scenes of Malayalam movies  from  his school days onwards  at Don Bosco English Medium High School.  Later while he was a college student, released his first work of lyrics titled “Ragha Pooja” (Offerings to Love) in Malayalam during  1973.  He was attending Christ College in Irinjalakuda for his Bachelors degree in Commerce .  He was elected as the Magazine Editor of Christ College during 1976, while  Emergency declared in India.  Since then he was producing himself manuscript magazines, namely “Kalithoni’ for Shardaya Study Circle of Kallettumkara and “Shilpy”, another manuscript magazine for  Irinjalakuda Sakhti  Mathrubhumi study circles.
He was much fascinated with the poetry lessons  of his Master in English literature  K.Sachidananan, Professor in English at  Christ College during 1970s. Also popular Malayalam Literary Critic Mampuzha Kumaran inspired him in developing the poetic talents which was dormant in him.  He turned to writing lyrics and penned nearly 300 songs for popular Malayalam film journals, specially for “Cinerama” , a popular cine weekly during 1970’s  published  from Quilon in Kerala  under the guidance of prominent Malayalam writer *** editor late Kambiserry Karunakaran. The he became a regular contributor to many Malayalam monthly journals and weekly publications, writing poems, lyrics, short stories, novels, screen plays and film criticisms.
From among those published  lyrics, of Williamsji , Late T.V.Kochubhava, prominent story writer and a close associate of Williamsji, selected nearly 100 lyrics from his collection of literary works  and published  with a title “Ragha Pooja” (Offerings to Love) during 1973 which is the first published literary work of Williamsji. Though he was successful as a lyricist, his wish was to become a script writer. To fulfil that, he became the Assistant Script Writer of Late A.C. Sabu, the only Cine Journalist of that time and  a close associate of  Kanmani Films director Late Ramu Kariyat (Chemmeen fame) who brought the first Silver Award to Malayalam Film for the best feature film during  the year 1970. Williamsji  was  also associated with the screen play works of many black and white films during 1970s .
Williamsji  left Christ College after completing his Post Graduation in Commerce (M.com). He, then worked in UAE for over thirty years with Emirates Telecommunication Corporation (Etislata) Ras AL Khiamah  and  Thurayya Satelite communications (Abu Dhabi). The award is for his current poetry collections named as “MAA SALAMA ”  (With Peace..) and for “POLIVACHANAPORULUGHAL”  (Revelations of Bluffed words) , both  will be released by H & C Books, Trichur, shortly.
Williamsji (Williams George) was a Freelance writer for    “ Gulf News”, “Khaleej Times” and “The Gulf Today”, three popular  English Daily News papers, published from UAE and Columnist for Malayalam News , the first Malayalam daily paper published from Saudi Arabia.
vircapio gale Oct 2012
what did it take for me to miss those days?
crawling breathless,
stomach nails for breakfast, ventricles of rust,
pounding on my ribs with any upright task
from soaking bed delirium,
corroded mind and eyeballs
tortured falun dafa tears
stinging on the walls a glowing red,
my branching veins encasing me in flaming
paths of mystery: to live or die, to try or fail
at simple efforts
--never gone without, since infanthood--
to stand itself a tissue horror
bathing in the needles of another lifeform's hold on me,
that spiral nesting multitasker
legions in the joints,
invading forces claiming spinal tower-riches
as if my thoughts will be my last,
originary flickerings of self, sacked and razed,
the burning out of novelty for bottom emptiness
and only sympathies malinger there--
yet vaster frame invisible to healthy eye emerged:
a sea, empathic with my prior paths from health diverged:
adrenal waves and dolphin plays of other air ensouled i purge
with cascade urges tension mixing universal breath
of statements, fears and wry coercings not to think of death
or tempting near the abolition of a system *****
for all the benison it's bound to store for years
of hiding blind and uttering the shield-word
of our sly, superficial, group-stock lies,
to have us screaming at each other out of only kneejerk love
a mask of fodder from our young dogmatic wanderings
they burn and burn and choke like spirochetes themselves
while shoving under family rugs the truth

cicada shells clung eerily against the burls and branches
of a monumental tree itself a deathly symbol bare of green
like ornaments of rhythm upsurge birthing into death digest
the exoskeletal remains, under finger crunched as
up the bark i climbed
to view what death had taken value on for me, and balanced
up atop the hill of faded names i yearned the meanings of,
and in the clouds
a part revealed
a sunny mist,
to paint me colorful again--
and in that mood a hail began to tick on forest floor:
the brittle dead a singing whisper flaking brown
on brown, on earthy brown to gather white within the paper nooks of leafy drums

how whimsically to service death
anon anon for now they're always lying there
across the road atop the grave hill,
from other species hunted here
but this, that time it was a carved skull
hacked or sawed but yards from peaceful temple yard
another, cleaner omen skull had led me there,
ochre red with emerald mold
the cranial pale divided stop and go
and led me wondering within the stream
to notice other signs i half-expected mystically:
surreal blood abundantly with vulture feathers carpeting the scene:
a stag with missing brain, missing hind and organs
chosen how, i'd never know
--i saw the arrow though, a barb of certainty--
and old fur, gray and white, a timely passing then,
to make of gore a sacred right,
and in hale ignorance i prayed like only atheists can pray
with self-disclaiming smirk but
humble authenticity of unknown forces
biding in the impulse-meaning-gathering of earth,
now memory to glean and hold to live in me
Jaanam Jaswani May 2016
dear . . . sweetie,

the projections of your essence is the type
to cook up a future of you;
of the home you call your heart,
or how you let it spill across the metal table,
just to knead it back together to construct wholesome smiles.

yours is the form of communication i've never known,
a presence that haunts me -
as the scent of your perfume lingers at the back of my tongue
as i taste a sweet fruit,
or how your stories speak to me
as my eyes trickle such mundane appliances around me.

you have taken not my heart, nor my soul.
you have extracted from me fragments of my time;
where i find myself caught in the air, mystically
hearing the songs that were stuck in my head when i first met you.

you are the soundtrack to my little death.
you are always right in the corner of my mind, just as i want to see you:
half-baked, smirking, and vulnerable.
02:55 AM // originally entitled 'a love letter to a pastry chef'
pâte sucreé (French): sweet pie crust
You know the bloom, unearthly white,
That none has seen by morning light-
The tender moon, alone, may bare
Its beauty to the secret air.
Who'd venture past its dark retreat
Must kneel, for holy things and sweet,
That blossom, mystically blown,
No man may gather for his own
Nor touch it, lest it droop and fall....
Oh, I am not like that at all!
Steve D'Beard Nov 2012
Pounding bass.
Sub-sonic strobes.
Synthetic smoke.
Alone on the dance-floor
I was glad to see another
clubbers curves move in rhythm;
Uninhibited by the foot tapping brigade
who watched with intensity.

You edged ever closer
Till our smiles became infectious.
An uncertain bond of understanding,
amid an endless rush of acidic bleeps.
Uncluttered.
Uncrowded.
Mystically shrouded in transient beats,
we strangers come together in unity

Your hips move to the pneumatic bass
as transient hardhouse and
tribal breakbeats embrace,
The foot tappers again resume,
Spontaneous rushes
and some sulphur that is sour to taste.

We may have unzipped and consumed
to electronic tunes,
but the tune remains the same -
Beautiful stranger dream a dream for me
because now all we have between us is
Rain.
this track accompanies the poem as the eulogy to the unamed stranger who crossed my path that evening
http://soundcloud.com/kinkslapandfriends/unzip-to-consume
Senor Negativo Aug 2012
Spring blossoms gentle acceptance
Of vagaries of desperation
Like variegated autumnal leaves
From the core of the stone of floods
Undeclared truths
Affirmative requests

There is chaos as a whole
In the expanse of the unending.
Fear fades mystically.
Death and boredom leave your lungs ...
There. Exists
Justice and pleasure... .
.... thoughts of living, laugh in the face of Death.

all the thoughts of failures
Conglomerate and are cast away
Into a deep trench
the soothing currents lull
Sinking green verdure.
Embraced by the biosphere
And forming a reef,
Thereby even your failures succeed.

Even now your image is being painted on the dull white canvas of my love.

Violent storms may rend the world
scattering lesser unions,
There is endurance in our madness...

Laughter, the golden bird, with bejewelled feathers,
Leads to the oasis of truth, in this desert of deceit
Reciprocation of sensation
Every intention to remain

And the rapidly ascending choir of broken angels sing the song which massacres despair.

And the body I wish to settle
Caressed by the deepest dark of night
Birth of the morning
The genesis of pleasant daydreams
Calm, hope ...
..... And a sense of success
Blue morning justice cascades
With dispelled illusions, and realized wishes.
Everyday upon wakening
I discard hate
As love, is mildly colored supple flesh
Withdrawn and plunged, into the crack of a stoney heart

Space infinitum opens before us,
On the petals of the lotus
Space through which two beings connect
No matter the distance.

We know that beneath this dull white nightmare
Dwells a vibrant black dream,
That is neither evil or good,
But just is.

On the workbench of despair,
Disassembled hearts are heaped.
In this pile I dwelled for an age of pain,
Until you plucked me from the pile
And made me whole again.
Fred Schrott Jul 2014
I am an altar boy inside the Church of
Continuous Wasted Opportunities.
Smell that pungent incense?
It is most definitely all that it seems to be.
This God’s gift to mankind is what the three
wise men were really trafficking—bringing
forth a dank Exodus unto the Savior’s parents.
They didn’t inhale the serpent’s lure, of course.
Rejoice, one and all, across the land!
Hallelujah, all ye indigo children of the desert!
Now, a reading from the Book of Wardo,
verse four, passage twenty:
“And it was told that the ancient Aryana region would
offer up such magical wonderment, derived from the
sacred Kush bush, assisting the holiest disciples who
prefer a mystically passive respite—for these blessed
aficionados represent the completely frazzled and yet
cautiously chosen few.”
From, The Transitive Nightfall Of Diamonds, due out 8/14 from iUniverse books
harlon rivers Mar 2018
Crimson maple buds magically pucker
under brightening skies
Lenten rose reluctantly unfolds
absolving the shadowed snow,
stemming the wintertide

Spring's impending bloom
mystically stirs the delicate human heart  
soothing from outside its sheltering shell

A converging pleasantness
of a sunshine sown awakening
cleanses each morning breath drawn
to sate an urgent restrained longing

The wilderness carpet comes alive
with a burgeoning salient sweetness
drawing out a glimmer of gladness
from stale suffocating darkness’
wallowing in the winter ennui

Another kind of poignant balm sinks
from the tall mountain willow tree
touching the sprouting blue sky

Furry fragrant catkins blossom sweetly
like the remnants of a love once known
softly brushing against a fading memory
of unerasable stains begrudgingly beget

Like fawning flowers falling fallow
in a passing season’s pollination breeze
Manipulating frayed heartstrings,
unhealed as the deer peeled scars
and rubbed bark of a mountain willow,
scarred  from another season past

Some protective shell ― never grows back
when benign heartwood is brought to light


harlon rivers ... Spring 2018
Kind solace in a dying hour!
Such, father, is not (now) my theme—
I will not madly deem that power
Of Earth may shrive me of the sin
Unearthly pride hath revelled in—
I have no time to dote or dream:
You call it hope—that fire of fire!
It is but agony of desire:
If I can hope—O God! I can—
Its fount is holier—more divine—
I would not call thee fool, old man,
But such is not a gift of thine.

Know thou the secret of a spirit
Bowed from its wild pride into shame
O yearning heart! I did inherit
Thy withering portion with the fame,
The searing glory which hath shone
Amid the Jewels of my throne,
Halo of Hell! and with a pain
Not Hell shall make me fear again—
O craving heart, for the lost flowers
And sunshine of my summer hours!
The undying voice of that dead time,
With its interminable chime,
Rings, in the spirit of a spell,
Upon thy emptiness—a knell.

I have not always been as now:
The fevered diadem on my brow
I claimed and won usurpingly—
Hath not the same fierce heirdom given
Rome to the Caesar—this to me?
The heritage of a kingly mind,
And a proud spirit which hath striven
Triumphantly with human kind.
On mountain soil I first drew life:
The mists of the Taglay have shed
Nightly their dews upon my head,
And, I believe, the winged strife
And tumult of the headlong air
Have nestled in my very hair.

So late from Heaven—that dew—it fell
(’Mid dreams of an unholy night)
Upon me with the touch of Hell,
While the red flashing of the light
From clouds that hung, like banners, o’er,
Appeared to my half-closing eye
The pageantry of monarchy;
And the deep trumpet-thunder’s roar
Came hurriedly upon me, telling
Of human battle, where my voice,
My own voice, silly child!—was swelling
(O! how my spirit would rejoice,
And leap within me at the cry)
The battle-cry of Victory!

The rain came down upon my head
Unsheltered—and the heavy wind
Rendered me mad and deaf and blind.
It was but man, I thought, who shed
Laurels upon me: and the rush—
The torrent of the chilly air
Gurgled within my ear the crush
Of empires—with the captive’s prayer—
The hum of suitors—and the tone
Of flattery ’round a sovereign’s throne.

My passions, from that hapless hour,
Usurped a tyranny which men
Have deemed since I have reached to power,
My innate nature—be it so:
But, father, there lived one who, then,
Then—in my boyhood—when their fire
Burned with a still intenser glow
(For passion must, with youth, expire)
E’en then who knew this iron heart
In woman’s weakness had a part.

I have no words—alas!—to tell
The loveliness of loving well!
Nor would I now attempt to trace
The more than beauty of a face
Whose lineaments, upon my mind,
Are—shadows on th’ unstable wind:
Thus I remember having dwelt
Some page of early lore upon,
With loitering eye, till I have felt
The letters—with their meaning—melt
To fantasies—with none.

O, she was worthy of all love!
Love as in infancy was mine—
’Twas such as angel minds above
Might envy; her young heart the shrine
On which my every hope and thought
Were incense—then a goodly gift,
For they were childish and upright—
Pure—as her young example taught:
Why did I leave it, and, adrift,
Trust to the fire within, for light?

We grew in age—and love—together—
Roaming the forest, and the wild;
My breast her shield in wintry weather—
And, when the friendly sunshine smiled.
And she would mark the opening skies,
I saw no Heaven—but in her eyes.
Young Love’s first lesson is——the heart:
For ’mid that sunshine, and those smiles,
When, from our little cares apart,
And laughing at her girlish wiles,
I’d throw me on her throbbing breast,
And pour my spirit out in tears—
There was no need to speak the rest—
No need to quiet any fears
Of her—who asked no reason why,
But turned on me her quiet eye!

Yet more than worthy of the love
My spirit struggled with, and strove
When, on the mountain peak, alone,
Ambition lent it a new tone—
I had no being—but in thee:
The world, and all it did contain
In the earth—the air—the sea—
Its joy—its little lot of pain
That was new pleasure—the ideal,
Dim, vanities of dreams by night—
And dimmer nothings which were real—
(Shadows—and a more shadowy light!)
Parted upon their misty wings,
And, so, confusedly, became
Thine image and—a name—a name!
Two separate—yet most intimate things.

I was ambitious—have you known
The passion, father? You have not:
A cottager, I marked a throne
Of half the world as all my own,
And murmured at such lowly lot—
But, just like any other dream,
Upon the vapor of the dew
My own had past, did not the beam
Of beauty which did while it thro’
The minute—the hour—the day—oppress
My mind with double loveliness.

We walked together on the crown
Of a high mountain which looked down
Afar from its proud natural towers
Of rock and forest, on the hills—
The dwindled hills! begirt with bowers
And shouting with a thousand rills.

I spoke to her of power and pride,
But mystically—in such guise
That she might deem it nought beside
The moment’s converse; in her eyes
I read, perhaps too carelessly—
A mingled feeling with my own—
The flush on her bright cheek, to me
Seemed to become a queenly throne
Too well that I should let it be
Light in the wilderness alone.

I wrapped myself in grandeur then,
And donned a visionary crown—
Yet it was not that Fantasy
Had thrown her mantle over me—
But that, among the rabble—men,
Lion ambition is chained down—
And crouches to a keeper’s hand—
Not so in deserts where the grand—
The wild—the terrible conspire
With their own breath to fan his fire.

Look ’round thee now on Samarcand!—
Is she not queen of Earth? her pride
Above all cities? in her hand
Their destinies? in all beside
Of glory which the world hath known
Stands she not nobly and alone?
Falling—her veriest stepping-stone
Shall form the pedestal of a throne—
And who her sovereign? Timour—he
Whom the astonished people saw
Striding o’er empires haughtily
A diademed outlaw!

O, human love! thou spirit given,
On Earth, of all we hope in Heaven!
Which fall’st into the soul like rain
Upon the Siroc-withered plain,
And, failing in thy power to bless,
But leav’st the heart a wilderness!
Idea! which bindest life around
With music of so strange a sound
And beauty of so wild a birth—
Farewell! for I have won the Earth.

When Hope, the eagle that towered, could see
No cliff beyond him in the sky,
His pinions were bent droopingly—
And homeward turned his softened eye.
’Twas sunset: When the sun will part
There comes a sullenness of heart
To him who still would look upon
The glory of the summer sun.
That soul will hate the ev’ning mist
So often lovely, and will list
To the sound of the coming darkness (known
To those whose spirits hearken) as one
Who, in a dream of night, would fly,
But cannot, from a danger nigh.

What tho’ the moon—tho’ the white moon
Shed all the splendor of her noon,
Her smile is chilly—and her beam,
In that time of dreariness, will seem
(So like you gather in your breath)
A portrait taken after death.
And boyhood is a summer sun
Whose waning is the dreariest one—
For all we live to know is known,
And all we seek to keep hath flown—
Let life, then, as the day-flower, fall
With the noon-day beauty—which is all.
I reached my home—my home no more—
For all had flown who made it so.
I passed from out its mossy door,
And, tho’ my tread was soft and low,
A voice came from the threshold stone
Of one whom I had earlier known—
O, I defy thee, Hell, to show
On beds of fire that burn below,
An humbler heart—a deeper woe.

Father, I firmly do believe—
I know—for Death who comes for me
From regions of the blest afar,
Where there is nothing to deceive,
Hath left his iron gate ajar.
And rays of truth you cannot see
Are flashing thro’ Eternity——
I do believe that Eblis hath
A snare in every human path—
Else how, when in the holy grove
I wandered of the idol, Love,—
Who daily scents his snowy wings
With incense of burnt-offerings
From the most unpolluted things,
Whose pleasant bowers are yet so riven
Above with trellised rays from Heaven
No mote may shun—no tiniest fly—
The light’ning of his eagle eye—
How was it that Ambition crept,
Unseen, amid the revels there,
Till growing bold, he laughed and leapt
In the tangles of Love’s very hair!
jeffrey robin Oct 2014
(                    ^^^                   )

(<(<(<                                                 >)>)>)
O
>>>>>>>                         (    )                         <<<<<<<
(        )
+++++++

the strays

the         lost boys
Returning
                                      Home

///

we sought wisdom

we found each other and are glad

                              ////
•                   ////                      

someone said

                                     I KNEW IT HAD TO BE THIS WAY
( yes indeed !)



The spider's web

We paint so many pretty pictures
All can see

////                                      •

We tell so many stories

But only One contains

Us together upon that road

That takes everybody home

••                  

Me and my gal

& the kids

The holy sky
Across the mountain range

The oceans are mystically saved

And man becomes Man again !

••                      
••

Me and my gal

And the kids

All the beauty there to find

And of course you

Over there
Raven Feels Aug 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, new poem:)

not the best lens emitted such light
delicate weathers upon previous sights
in a dived listening exile
the carry of the Earth in a swift's mile
in the blink
the week's blur and the paint's sink
raging on red sunsets
raging on yellow's pale sulfur the dreams let
the twirl of winds
on the worlds of the flipped
like in every sky
the one of the days that the one of the nights
fogs in a hurry
what's grey is the face of worry
never know if you don't see for yourself
that the clouds above this roof are the same above that shelf
not always a purple fairytale
August slipped away a coat in the cruelest detail
haven't even begun them storms
the already seen is a scare out of the norm
peace to heart
yet my mind awoke in fear from each start
these bugging times
are the times of memory loss in a hellish crime
the one sun the one full moon
how stars shine mystically reaching future's soon
and me in here as shown
tracing a map of the intuition's unknown
delusion
maybe a disguised mood before the ultimate confusion
the one month of picking up pieces
the dark is long so sleepless to the hope decreases
yet I do know that the same will return in ease and flow
been recalling that for the last two years in a row
the outer skies
now a reason to fly


                                                           ­              -------ravenfeels
Golden sun sets on the concert house;
The hellish day, it’s now been dowsed.
Asphalt night and onyx skies,
Crowds and crowds of endless size.

Yet it rises on the wooden stage;
Burning, scorching, lunar rage.
Curtains of lapis suspended,
For a show that’s highly splendid.

The bands, they take up their instruments,
Checking function with much diligence.
The azure slides, the crowd’s boisterous,
Let’s send them home filled and joyous!

Strum and strike, music sounds and hikes.
Mystically does it flow, no break or pause.
Number after number, avalanche of applause.
Now they’re screaming and whistling! Yikes!

The night wears on, and sapphires glisten,
In skies of turquoise and warm transition.
Marmalade sunrise, it goes on and on!
But nowhere in the hall is there a yawn.

The crowds recede like biped cattle,
An endless, drunken, random rabble.
The next noon, the hall’s still defiled.
Music echoes in their heads, meanwhile.
Phylicia Dawn Jul 2011
Should my anticipation run and hide when the air so cold runs dry. My mind is a wonder in this ponder your hand feeds me. Some reason my heart says you're not a least bit overwhelmed, as I set myself up, but this I can't help to rely on free will and dwell. As I relate to the sun spots that reflect the conscious of hell we rebel, I sit back, trying to relax, staring through the tinted lens for time to pass. I reveal through the condensation, the eye of the drafty wind.

My mind wonders as I see the inevitable piercing reason for life bleed through the trees, quickly catch my eye. My heart races mystically to the beat of epilepsy as the hours surpass behind this sun glass. As I get to thinking, you remind me of the constellations breading, metaphorically speaking. The halo is gorgeous as your amber glows the Tuesday moon, bringing in a Wednesday revenge. I listen for a perfect circle to a perfect gratitude of the lust we all share in a wanted haunting spiraling into a Fibonacci themed sea.

Your strawberry kiss gathers a thesaurus of mood swings. It's heart carries a stone the size of the moon. Pity from far but a sight to see as the circle of life surrounds the familiar meaning of how much you mean to me. Only somehow, I find myself feeling like a LCD movie scene, Incomplete and all alone or like a childhood never ending story of love. Boring and make believe.

Some days I can't remember, some days I would like to forget. Like when lovers split into million's of pieces, we deal with it. I pirate about as my mates call me out as I blacken into fading out. A cool breeze to cold chill spinal tap heart attack buried deep in my bones like a diamond in the ruff, protected damaged goods. Keep me in mind, my fractal eye, frame this sight, picture it twice, what you see is what you find. (needs work)

Finding myself blind I'm reminded all the time, I'm bloodshot dry trying not to show you why the need to express my feelings. My reasons why are believed lies. With just one look, no second guess. You'll see my regret. You'll see me die a little in sight. The half heart you shared the day I felt it would matter, I felt I would care...

I would reside my life just to keep you near of a grateful insight. Standing in line waiting to see you see my side. I found my peace in between the daisies and the trees. You had fit the dream of being complete embraced me, to let it be. Hesitation aside I would rewind my life just to keep you close by, but the patterns we can't hide from this manifested tide. A rush of love a loss of touch. We reach for the sky but the stars just keep pushing high as we keep stretching our time here, it's all we have, is space.
I think too much...
1-DESIRE:                                             4-UNCARE:
All of me now desires,be deep            Distracted ideals,a nature human                                                        
Wholly Inside of you,Pervade             Heavenly woven synergies broken                                      
Your mind, limbs, Heart, all pores      Power of pleasures mortal, killing magic                              
Soak in your salty sweat warm           Snapping wands,bonds dearly formed  
Mold dancing to a one united.             Sweet temptress transient, conquering care.

2-PASSION:                                                ­       5- DISILLUSION:
Bodies’ lithe now twined serpentine         We betrayed, cheated US, in neglect,
Straining desperate, for a merger             Holes in hearts bleeding precious Love,
Spiritual, souls both for unison striving    Admitting indifference cruel, ruining stealthily
Hearts two pumping as one to fuse.          Our paradise gained, won so easy, lost terribly.
Sacred is everything, this carnality too.     Chanced eternity wasted, destiny unmeant made.

3-LOVE:                                                   ­              6- REALITY:
Ensconced tight in warmth’s mutual,           Tempered in time space, 3-LOVE loyal savior sole,  
All is for sacrifice on our loves altar,              Enshrined indestructible, in being, memories relived.
Suspended thoughts, egos burnt ash            Pleasures now cynically felt, loves truly responded,
A Love Mindless meditating deep,                No dilemma human; I flow generous, as an epitaph,
In some state mystically enlightened.            Thanking destiny for this reclaim, my love,faring well.
jeffrey robin Sep 2011
so that the Mighty come
so that the Mystic takes shape
.
so that you do not appear as
a f--king idiot
-----
on the mountain
in the center of town
.
the MIGHTY
MYSTICALLY
enter
.
and change the world
Eva Aug 2020
Dear Aurora,

Beautiful and sun-kissed

Warm and enchanting

Delicate and glossed

Mystically enticing

Dear Aurora

I could never thank you enough for splintering my sorrows away

Letting me rest for another day

You slowly happen

The entire world knows you,

Then

Many people start believing you are weak

And selfish

But dear Aurora,

I know you only too well

I have seen you rise up

And have seen how you fell

You are beauty full of sorrows

You are here today and gone tomorrow

You are healing

Aurora you are liberating

Dear Aurora

As you fly across the sky announcing a new sun

A gleam appears to me as a swift burn

It reminds me I am always apart from you

But you will always be a part of me

Dear Aurora

I love you.
TERRY REEVES Mar 2016
TEQUILA SLIPPED DOWN EASILY, A MYSTERY
WHO THE NEW MAN WAS BECAUSE HE CARRIED
AN AURA WITH HIM WHICH EVEN HEMMINGWAY
MIGHT HAVE BEEN INTERESTED IN; THIS HEAT WAS
EVEN TOO MUCH FOR CAMPESINOS BUT NO
BEAD OF SWEAT APPEARED ON HIS FACE,
AS HE FIXED HIS GAZE ON ME MYSTICALLY,
HE SAID THAT, 'YOU WON'T SEE ME AGAIN
BUT WHEN YOU GO OUTSIDE IN THE DUST,
YOU'LL CARRY ME WITH YOU AND I WILL
GUIDE WHAT YOU DO,' AMAZINGLY, I BELIEVED
HIM, FINISHED MY DRINK AND DON'T CARE WHAT
YOU THINK, IT WAS TRUE - NEW ENERGY
GRIPPED ME AND NOW WHERE I WANTED TO BE.
Kailasa mountain peaks
composed completely of clouds
hover mystically across the
mauve purple horizon

I stare dreamily out the car window
this celestial impression arouses
a sacred memory that has haunted
my consciousness
since I first alighted 12,000 feet above
sea level onto the blessed Himalayan
mountain range

I don’t think there is any place
like this on earth
glaciers hang like huge crystal malas
around majestic white bluffs
the air ripples, tingles tangibly with spirits of
Sages, Saints and other sublime beings
ethereal cathedral bells ring brightly
in the crisp altitude

The road climbing from Badrinath
to Vishnu’s auspicious Footprint
continues ascending
to the very threshold of Heaven
everything is just so luminous
even the breath filling our lungs
shimmers

As I travel back in time to that holy place
I know a part of me still sits in padmasana
aloft those Godly hills
through the melting snows
spring rains and summer monsoons
lost in supreme bliss
Karen Hamilton Nov 2015
There she was on stage
The Theatre was packed full
Her face painted
Like a porcelain doll.

Lights shone down on her,
Red velvet curtains draped
It's like we were in
The Eighteen Hundreds

She was in full view
Her long black hair was
Camouflaged with her leotard

The spotlights must have
Blinded her eyes

She danced as
Delicately
As a feather,
Mystically and
Artistically,

It was entrancing to see
My friend who was
Starring the show.

The audience were captivated,
Gentlemen smoking their pipes
Nodding heads of approval,

Swift,
Soft,
Subtle movements
Mesmerised the greater crowd...

And then she speaks.

She speaks poetry
In so many words,
Words I can't relay,

I wish I could remember,
But I remember
How it made me feel;

How it made every one feel.

The strange eeriness
Mixed with elegance,
Her words harshly whispered
But true...

The crowd errupted
With applause
"Bravo" "Bravo"

And then I wake....



© Karen L Hamilton, 2012
This is the dream I had about my friend Sammi. I remember telling her and she said that she done a model shoot years ago in the description I described seeing her,  I can still picture it as clear as when it happened.... coincidence?
Lucy Tonic Apr 2015
At the moment of choice
I faltered
Now there needs to be a sacrifice
At their altar

But before I go
Headfirst into the unknown
I need you to see
The true colors of me

You knew I was sensitive
To the threats in the cafeteria
But do you realize
We were all once bacteria?

I'll take the blame
For how I've made you hurt
But is it my fault that I haven't evolved
Past my time as a bug in the dirt?

I know your heart burns
And suicides need revenge
They shouldn't reside next to the daily weather
They should be mystically erected like Stonehenge

I know you feel like all the pain
Is on your side of the fence
I'm just going with my gut here
I'm just trying to make sense

I have a feeling I met her once
In a hostile, sterile place
Don't remember what I said to her
But in those walls, I let no one into my true head space

I have birthmarks on my ears
And when I was young, I stepped on a toad
One could be a sign of something miraculous
One could be a sign of a wicked, wretched road

I know your people value the color red
I know you protect those with wings
But like Saint Augustine said,
All birds have their origins in the sea

I know you cast your spells
While I say my prayers
Magic and religion were once one
Till divided on a truth or dare

The soul of the world is nourished
By happiness, sadness and envy
Our desires came from the Universal Soul
Even if they caused a frenzy

Even though Lisa said it didn't matter
I have one last thing to say before I'm done
The soul of the one you love is everywhere around you
Even if Earth is the third planet from the sun
(ALL THINGS ARE ONE)
Renoka McCracken May 2012
Great God of Mine,
How is it that the planets faithfully revolve around Your solar star
How is that the acorn mystically re-fashions itself into the majestic tree
How is it that the monarch finds the flyways and air currents to its winter home

Great God of Mine,
Why is it that babies are being born to immature children who can’t rear them
Why is it that a father takes out his anger on his wife and offspring
Why is it that man is incapable of living peacefully with his neighbor

Great God of Mine,
How is it that Rahab was chosen to facilitate an enemy’s victory over her Jericho
How is that the Samaritan woman at the well claimed Jesus’s living water
How is it that Simon of Cyrene forcefully bore the cross to Golgotha behind Jesus

Great God of Mine,
Why is it that mothers can end the lives of their little ones
Why is it that drug-users and perverts are destroying safe homes
Why is it that political leaders make selfish decisions that harm their constituents

Great God of Mine,
How is it that you created man for relationship knowing his inability to sustain it
How is it that you eternally love mankind in the face of his constant rejection
How is it that you sacrificed your innocent Son to save a sinful people

Great God of Mine,
Why is it that the twelve apostles included a traitor
Why is it that the “rock of the church” denied your Son three times
Why is it that an apostle who walked with Jesus could doubt his authenticity

Great God of Mine,
How is it that You knew me before time began
How is it that You saved me with my not deserving it
How is it that You love me; You LOVE…ME!
Arcassin B Jul 2015
By Arcassin Burnham

Completely and utterly mystically sane,
I drive through the forces that carry my weight,
Visions through your eyes , but you never mentioned my name,
I'd die a quick and painful death without knowing the strain,
No limations left swear i fill up pain,
Indebted the affection but battled with the thoughts that came,
Popular teens riding in mustangs , while you have to walk in the rain,
Life isn't always good,
When karma is on your *** all the time,
Asking god why have you forsaken me,
Without ever being rude,
But slowly telling it you hate it too,
Retorting and overreacting,
Drinking too much to know your name,
To the heavens your shouting,
But this love I have could not be replace,
For the weirdest reason.
Number 9 is buried for a reason
Katie Lindsey Aug 2012
In my old apartment
I used to have
Red Curtains.

With widows open
They would mystically dance to my
Brighter thoughts of the afternoon

Like a woman dancing
A woman drifting
A woman breathing
They desired to be watched.

A memory they create for me.
A dream of a time we woke up to a seemingly red sun
Coming through.

Stretching
Smiling
Singing

We knew if would be a beautiful day.

Please Stay.
Christoph Wong May 2010
I met her again on the corner of the street.
We fell in love the moment our eyes meet.
The color of the sky,
reflecting blue in her eyes.
In a minute this will end.
She was my hi-bye girlfriend.

She wore whatever she liked, and leather boots.
She could be in love, we don’t need the truth.
Her eyes like the sea, so mystically emotional
who knows what we could be, whether she stays or she goes?

Two ways we parted,
I woke back into my life.
Didn’t matter what this meant,
I loved her then,
my hi-bye girlfriend.

Your fabulous eyes, dark emeralds in blaze;
Your silky brown hair, idyllic in golden glaze;
While I mystically sip a drop of red cherry wine,
Yet not even poured, an elegant love tinted line;
Hearing your charming laughter, like dawn songs;
I feel alive, full of joy; I could fly with my wings
The way you walk, like the light steps of a peacock,
So cheerful, joyful, forever ready to dance and to rock.
*
BY
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
williamsji@yahoo.com
www.williamsji.com
www.williamsmaveli­.com
www.williamsgeorge.com
From MICROTHEMES, a collection of short poems,
written by WILLIAMSJI MAVELI.
The warmth of the tangled sea
On the peak of the clouds
As the mystically creature turns to dust
As the lights of the earth burns out
Thousands are restless and weak
Immense pulverized anguish
As the ancient kingdom is spiritually sore
Unraveling the conscience seeds
Clinging to this deep discombobulated world
Fretfull and distured
Ashamed of my truth
Mike Adam Jun 2016
Mystically shelled
snails in slime
embrace

And in vast space
galaxies spin
and dance the
fractal same

(On flat dead
man stone
lovers tongue
entwined play
the same nocturnal game)
Universal Thrum Aug 2019
Vaguely I recall a dream
ripping out handfuls of nose hairs
the black bristles like bundled corn stalks
filling my palms

Madame can you tell me
what it means?
its all blavatsky to me
Yes, I'm looking deeper
into your magic crystal ball
its shape so revealingly smooth
scraping the barrel both ways
feels worn but still slightly good

how much will this coffee cost me?
Does the girl behind the counter know her *******
are poking through the green cotton shirt
tightly hugging, transfixing
with afro nose ring red ivory skin
handfuls of round large lifted ******* protruding and
mystically speaking to me in tongues, sha la la la,
with the pull of gravity,
the pull of generations triumph and **** animal fuckery
I look for the clue,
for the answer to the why of the hard ******

for to hold this shining example of proportion
to taste her and feel her with every bit of my own
it feels like I would give up everything
leave my lover,
break laws and oaths
yet here I am tempered by the moment,
eyes on a dollar going into the tip jar, i hear her thanks
my girl placidly rocking in a chair outside

"."

sweet home girl brings me succulents
in a dirt birds nest
now sitting in a sunny window sill beside
my mothers mothers christmas cactus,
one alive one wilted
I sigh at the thought of explaining the poetic meaning
regarding photos in frames
and look into the colored glass arranged
in blues and greens pinks and white
clear mother of pearl sheen glittering crystal
scarlet begonias and pink plumeria
among a coastal green auburn mountain river valley
leading to the sea

the fragrance of the cold hardy mimosa tree bloom at night
revived my spirit
after fainting from the heat
disassociating amongst the crowd
packed into stadium bleachers
receiving blasting electric guitar scoots and boots
third octave wails
John Mayer

get this
before the band takes the stage
as the lights go out
a grown man screams full throated war yip
into the back of my skull

I might have slipped into a concussion then

fitting the dose

a man brings me a beer I tell him I don't want
and won't drink, but for a sip
and for a moment I think I'm poisoned
sick from the gas or the slipped mickey
my skin leaks into a cool film
and on the precipice of the shake out
crumpled into the fold out chair
somehow I'm breathing
standing and escaping
into the flouresent halls
and into a white tile bathroom
in a mirror my skin a whiter shade of pale
than the clogged porcelain
on my way out into the streets,
touched by the warm summer air
a louse attempts to fill me in on marriage,
flagellating himself for some unseen ex-wife

I tell him to leave me alone
and the simplicity and elegance of candor
disarms him long enough
for the burracho to grunt
"Never get married.....you look like you should be left alone"

Earlier in the day
I walked into a head shop
to buy papers
the guy at the counter asked if I had ID
I don't
He said he can't sell without ID
smirking with a thumbs up
I dropped three doll hairs on the glass counter
and put the papers in my pocket

Love always, until its sometimes, then its never

but then again,

Cue Kipling
low and slow
Eriko Mar 2016
last night with my breath heaving ice
I dreamed of a palace towering so high
magnificent porcelain floors,
each tap of heels a vertigo
of ringing melodies upon shores,
marble white gleaming under
golden streaming sun,
the softest hue of gentle cerulean
kissed like shadows in the empty halls
vivid, startling red carpets muffling
the entrance to every doorway,
hidden diamonds of spruce floorboards
from the mothers of those elegance gnarls
swinging near the front porch,
I dreamt of a beautiful palace
empty but for the pounding in my chest
lingering on hilltop of some forgotten coast
with waves pounding and sleeping at will
wild meadows and daisies sang in the wind
lavender and pines smiled mystically,
the sky was blue, such a clear beautiful blue
I dreamt of this place,
with rooms cluttered of deepest desires
treasures of love, gems of happiness
stairwells to ambition and libraries of knowledge
studios to create and kitchens to splurge
yet I grew a faint as the sun began to smother
the castle walls were blood orange and deep yellow
now I could see the tremble of my shadow
I woke up to a startling start,
and tears rolled down as the plastic stars
glowed on my ceiling, the salivating fragrance
of fresh baked bread ringing with clarity  
I dreamt of palace where I could simply be
with my pleasures and splurges,
following heart's content to sing free
are all palaces really temporary?
I don't know, the palace could be represented literally, but I also feel like the palace and the place symbolizes something else...
Olivia Kent Mar 2017
In auburn the sun fell.
In crimson she rose again.
As a gift of entrancing love.
My flowers overt, with inverted bells.
An infusion of Lila , green and white.
The spring sprung forth from earth so deep.
Leaving winter doth but weep.
A scene from seasons.
Of row boats and true love.
Of coffee with cream.
Photographs on front covers of many magazines.
Periodicals they speak.
Peace descends amidst those flowers.
Many more hours.
Sun hats and short sleeves.
Mystically weaving.
Gossamer strings,
Such pretty things.
(c)LIVVI
Daan Feb 2014
More than just tanned skin over bone,
just the long brown hair on it's own,
that giggle when I try to look, manly,
like one who can be the man Leigh

desires to interfere with. Myth, mystically
beautiful, mesmerizingly enchanting, step
by step, gracefully, carefully granting
me another chance, glancing optimistically.

Her eyes, not caring about the colours, staring
across the hall, my nose can reach her forehead,
her taste in music, juicy yet elegant, in bed,
slightly humming along, god, she must be a dream.

She can just pick any guy she wants, a team
of athletes all at once, or just the one that lead
the journey to her lust and center. I misread,
excuse me for swearing, but the skirt she's wearing

is more than I can handle. Enter the room
without a hint of fear, she's near, like perfume.
When in doubt, always remember to not eat the yellow snow.
Timeless caresses
etched in my soul
beatific panoramas
all of a whole
music notes carved in clouds
angel fountains way up high
soul schools to learn from
between slices of time
No need to really talk
its all done silently
crystal buildings,  halls of light
all is done mystically
planning trips to Earth
to learn lessons slow
purpose of the universe
for our souls to grow
It may take many trips
to get it just right
to finally be what we are
all our knowings, our birthright
so narry a tear
when things are a painful song
its just another step
the road slow and long
we will reach our destiny
where we started from
knowing pur love and joy
our reward when we are done
Jowlough Apr 2011
I was Numb on the first shot of your admiration
As the scar was fresh,  the trauma was there.
As I am lost, and I was going nowhere.
But the honest approach had bitten my inner self
So infectious that it ripped my beliefs,
Crossed the bounds of established myths.
Your care, The feeling I am raised,
Placed, hesitations aside to waste,
And the case was reversed and beautifully bared.
How I am honored, to feel a love like yours,
Heavenly and mystically redeemed,
A feeling that grows, Love that leaps and soars.
Should you ask me will this feeling understand and grow,
I don't know,  but I want to bind our paths crossed.
Should you care asking, would you stay in your place?
I'll let it be you, stay here,**for Always.
(c) 2011.414 Let it be you jcjuatco
jeffrey robin Sep 2010
born to be crazy
born to be proud

we move to and fro
along beaches that dream
and streets  that combine

all of our lives
together

we are soft on the line
we are not tryin too hard
to make it our own

we are crazy
with the love we show

we are proud
proud to be here
and know

so dance ye young lovers
again

makin friends
first

then let the babies come

onto the earth

quite mystically

sacred with birth

mortally free

— The End —