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Sungmoo Bae Sep 2020
Come to me, my dearest one.
Let me get inside you more;
    
naivety is your nature,
thus eager to please
and to be pleased
—time flies like a fleeting bluebird,

a fairy in its blue bright spirit,
    and still you’re nearing my presence.
    Almost there, so be afraid of me,
    and yet fond of me,

for I'll never let you stray off anymore
—stop your wandering, no more—
and ‘tis the proof that I hold you so dear.
I long to relish that imminent moment

    where you’ll give me the enjoyable tickles
    while struggling in my arms tightly locked,

kept held in my blooming *****
in ominous anticipation.
Alas, I'm much eager to please you so  
—and I do expect, you would feel the same;
    
that is what I know from your eyes
trying to shun my eagerness,
still neglecting my attentive gesture
beckoning you to join me,

    but you will hide it no longer,
    for all of your struggles, big or small no matter,

    fans my fanatic yearning for your soul.

So accept me, my foolish child
(so carefree, but still shuddering)
as the dim evening clouds
would shroud the skies above,

sealing off the passage of light  
that was once so brilliant,
but now without a reason to exist.
And you, the courted,

    don't just stand there
    when I come to embrace you heartily,

so induce me—do ****** me,
and betray your fear
to be accepted by me, and only.
Do me a favor, and this shall work

as a token of passion for me;
the perfection is all yours:

the purification of our intents,
the petrifaction of our conscience,

the completion of our unison,
ceasing the compliance
with the rigid standards
of the unworthy.

    Wings of the butterfly collapse
    altogether, and you will be
    awaken, knowing that, my love,
    you are truly a butterfly.

    Like a pair of moths,
    we fly into the torchlight burning incandescent.
(C) Copyright: Saul Bae (Sungmoo Bae)
Brandon Sep 2011
These star eclipsed ceiling nights
Delay departure of my daydreams
No consequences you concede
Winter’s darkness in the middle of autumn
Your diction speaks the genuineness of falsification
Delimited by vacant vessels
Saviors always salvage the already saved
No time remains and we’re burying ourselves
In open arms and sobbing lies
Time is of no significance in our petrifaction
Time is of no consequence in our purification
Early on in the end
We’ll end up dancing alone to the grave
Early on in the end
We end up dancing alone to the grave
You are the beating of my heart
You are the tearing of us apart
You are forever ended
I felt I was drowning in cement
as powerful was their lament
then suddenly the door opened
and I was torn into their world

I was static in mind and frozen
just another fool to be chosen
to frequent this enslaving shop
to knuckle down or be fire wood

My limbs now made of plastic
my mind a void just numb
I thought I was helping
yet now, I have become one

To sing in duets of madness
while my strings are pulled
this way, that way
I'm broken and fooled

Some strings you may see
some invisible, some kettle ***
is for mercy is this in kindness
is this truly now all I've got

Another doll just wooden within
suffering and screaming for help
in a shop of petrifaction
Marionettes, is now where I dwell


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Leonardo Lollini Jul 2014
Don't look at this page
You will be petrified
You will age
You will be terrified
Mortified

You can't hide it's too late
You can't remove the eyes
Or even give cries
The effect is that of medusa
You are stone you can't move
Don't try and disprove
You want to finish
Possibly give this many tries
Yet little do you realize
It's only your eyes moving
Cruising
Don't worry your heart is still beating
Your still breathing
But your veins are filling with stone
Help you won't find on the phone
Petrifaction is what is occurring
Vision will soon be blurring
Your mind is probably stirring
No worries I will help
Remove eyes from page before it's too late
Poetic T May 2016
Apprehensive leaning towards the flickering pendulum
of shadow that rinsed its essence over the areas. With each
sway polished appearances did shuddered and intimately
they were touched upon and dilapidated they surrendered
in quivering as all were sheltered in nightfall's consumption.

All was faded into oblivion, but what is untold that obscurity
hides worse things that agitation lunges on and devours
Those that never echo there dwellings. Forms lie shadow less
just smudges of essence like a pool of soiled onyx now devoid.

There is anxiety in the cloudless venues where things huddle
in petrifaction. Thoughts of a gesture alerting unwanted
lingered eyes, embracing despair consuming selves so not
to be desecrated by others hunger. Darknesses suspicion of self.

— The End —