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Lora Lee May 2017
In this tightly interwoven
tapestry of
           silks and cottons
softness upon stems
an intricately-*****
                     journey
manifesto of life
        I find myself in
patchwork landscapes
of ochre and
rust turning
           turquoise
earthern shades
of cumin and cardamom
cloves and coriander
piquant red of paprika
alighting the senses
My fingers reach out
to sift the powder
to crush
fragrant fronds
of fresh basil and oregano
upon the blueprint of tips
allow their scent
to permeate my skin
and infuse tissue
                of tongue and lips
and I seem to be
in this
           bustling marketplace
my blood afire like
dried ghost pepper
searing and brightening
all flavors
fenugreek and asafoetida
to soothe the ache
of emptiness
chervil and chive
to get juices flowing
I want to slit open
vanilla pods
get at the beans
revel in their essence
wear it all over me


In this realm of spice
and paradise
I am flying,
a magic carpet of dreams
unrolling before me
like an unfurled flag
of new existence
The sounds of hagglers,
fading in raw visons
of shiny apple colors
olives piled high
textures of smooth cherry
budded broccoli
of walnut wrinkles
aroma of guava

Music takes over
I am in a cloud of
oud and lute
syncopated tabla
bells and rumbling
taut skin drum beats
Or is that long low whir
simply my heart purring
to the cadence of
       freedom's call?

I only know
that in the whisk
of a second's split
I will savor the flight
and also the
                fall
Poetic T Jan 2016
Time aged in millenniums breath, eternities
Upon it did the juncture's of a breach offer
A glimpse in others minds of reality's thoughts.
Whirlpools of confused visons, then calm.

To walk on the moments of each surge that
Washed upon realties exhalation. I talked to
Younger versions and like a paradox, repeated
Reflections I saw ourselves in memory and word.

There is an etched pathway of conscious thought
With each decision does a new pool open its
Moment creating fresh essence now as the other
But diverged time is a ripple that always falls.
It's happening. I'm back
again rapping
in my back room.
Relaxing while I'm slapping on some vinyl
records mastering the craft
of mashing styles
again.
Miles of ink and piles of pens.
Keeping our song alive 'til the end of time.
Turn it back
and begin again
because the cycle of our souls essence is infinite...
Clouds are moving by so fast
reminds me of an acid trip.

Futuristic visons reflecting that of past experience.

Back to the holy sacrament of living passionate.
I think we all should stand on this land
we're given hand in hand.

Hands together.

It's today.
We gotta love melodically.
From all sides turn
to God.
Then you're not stuck
in the same same old spot.
Over your head and your mind
under a rock.

So what do we do?

We say we have to sit on the bank.
But in reality we need to collaborate
and meditate.

Hands Together.

Falling on a cloud while I'm clapping and singing
that it's common law to love.
I'm feeling this all the while
I'm coming out of the outer realm
of happiness, of consciousness.
I'm glad this is a life that I can live to gain
A Consciousness.
Chimera melons Mar 2010
NEUROTRANSMITERS
TRANSPORTSHIFTSLIDE
EMASTICATIONATRIX
Visons & Ratraces
DISCOMBOBULESBIAN
ANTICONTRAFICTION
Ken Pepiton Nov 2019
In life's darkest, coldest histories, only those told
first tongue, empower courage in the
knowing emparted, as if we
were there. Our best
effort brought us
here, some how. We feel we must stand up for

our self, eh, what about my self? There's a burr, eh?
A dullness revealing fractured christline
constructs and the core, where
courage is stored in true
chain breaking known thought processes,
so
secret you may not be
allowed to know, like when we were kids with
no internet and no adults would
tells us how adultery functions
with usury and political magicians to enslave
us according to sortings in standardized tests.

Conceal weakness with signs of power,

make believe, show believers believable

e-visons as evident possibles,

so the power, small though it be,
the power of the people,
who hold no truths
self
evident, id est evincing and convincing
us, these rights are right,
for those who use us right,

words, true, make free the ready writer to
presume reading truth makes free
thinking go wild, like con
funsion making
sunlight...

in the past hear it... this little light of mine
no chain nor twisted trifold cord can
quench, a word
to the wise is leaven enough for the whole ******
loaf.
Shew, see,
we can wield power, if we can believe
the king, is where the kingdom is,
and any child who asks her pooka can know,
the kingdom is where I always behold
the face of God, angel-baby...

or we can imagine,
we have this power to create entire
othernesses,

similar to our self,
our logos and these pre-loaded breathing
algorithims of in and outs, ups and downs,

twisting and sooming assumed id-intities
are mea nd we wander, meander,

flow in the trough of a spiraling wave
pulling the rain back to the sea,

so each water weness we imagine may be re
used, for goodness knows what,
universal solvency was one
water function ac
cused of causing, aitiatic tic tic time bomb

Jerry-rigged, Rubic cubed trigger,

gay blades shaved the iron legs, y'know
**** Deus is punishing truth,

the true power of any pun
ish bin ein Berliner mit Arizona Prickly Pear jelly,

laughing into funk-tion-ality the oddities of beings
not me,
in my meanderings through optional doors
inside the narrow way,
ala the way to Petra, we've seen the way

similar in every fractal way to the tracks of tears

cuttin crevases through pressure packed dust that
must
have piled suddenly high, for,
when it flowed as the red mud that stopped
right there at the edge of the Sedona
manifestation of oddities.

Check it out. Google Earth it.

**** Deus wannabe, meet my old friend from
the foundery in Arkansas,
E Pluribis Unem Massey

crazy now, there is a man by that name, with a .jr,
a link forgotten,
save the memory that may be in the water,
we used to wash the grime of burning iron into
the river to rust into louisiana to feed
the phyto plankton past the delta
grease of seeping poison
insolvent in the universe, save for fire

fire can burnishit tic make it bright, reflecting
mirrors for the smoke

choking the me who can't see, how Wattie Piper
virus was passed on to
EPluribis Massey, Jr., but it must have been
some variation on the
living words,
like:
I think I can, and the congregation
responds:
as a man thinks, in his heart, so is he.

As the waters all flow to the sea, take no thought
for tomorrow,
take it as granted, today.
Overcoming is done one step at a time, and there is always a place to put one's foot, if, if, if you can remember knowing how to ride a bike, minus the bike.
Inside your head there

Are no

Horrors or

Visons anymore

Only the pickly

Sweet and sour

Silence of

The grave
All rights reserved
blackbiird Jun 2019

We’ve built the wall surrounding our castle—
Slowly becoming each other’s demise.
Sounds of slamming doors and shattering glass pierces the silence.
What an inconvenience this life has become.

The pendulum that once swung has taken its final swing.
Envious cries cutting through infinite silence.
Visons of thieving wolves that capture our castle—
Removing delicate, intricately sewn lies
What an inconvenience this life has become.

Roma Carlo Apr 2013
"You should be a poet,"
They said to me
In a darkened room
One Friday night

I smiled and said
"Maybe I should"
Deep down I knew
I always would

But at the time,
I did not speak
The words that fell
Upon my lips...

So looking back
Hear my decree,
"That we are all masters
Of poetry"

Only those that turn,
To pen and ink
Are those condemned
To always think

To live in visons,
To fantasize,
Words the burden
Our voice must bear

Whilst their art forms
On lifes canvas...

"The white of paper
A poor substitute."
Owen C Swenson Apr 2017
Blurred visons smeared across the mdnight sky.
Dark shadows casted and witches on the fly.
Sickos and psychos move quietly through the unseen.
Screams echo beyond the twisted swamp grass.
Blades of gory terror, stained blood on the broken glass.
Tar papered shacks with wood stove chimney stacks.
My hometown roots lye down deep within the swampy hollows.
Where preachers preach but nobody follows.
This is the place where bodies stay cold.
Watch where you walk and do what your told.
michael mcAdam Mar 2014
on the night of first meet she was the fair goddess of the moon
and i was nothing but the group she walk on
oh the sorrow of the visons i have
she dines in the underworld with death
wait for me my love
i am close to her now as my live fades
wait for me my goddess
Dorthy flew over the rainbow many times.
Along the way, her and I met eye to eye.
Viewing each other's memories through these visons
Connected through eyes and spirit...
We join forces and look for beautiful skies.
Even Oz is full of it's storms and battle zones.
As Dorthy returned the second trip over...
The evil Queen tried to steal her head.
However, Dorthy was smarter than that.
She defeated insanity and with her head still ******* on
She avoided someone stealing her unique and valuable vanity.
Seeing these memories I see inside myself.
Through countless times I almost lost my head.
I almost lost myself in the fields of poppies
I almost fell asleep.
Still awake, I ran with Dorthy past these fields...
Past the so-called beautiful and perfect city of Oz
and we found our own sane paradise.
In the uninviting mountains of high promises
We climbed and endured to enter this beautiful place and paid our own price.
Along the way we found others
In our same dilemma.
Instead of roaming to some insane guy posing like a wizard
We became our own magic and traveled to our own lands of solutions.
Now people come to us seeking the same as we once sought.
However, we tell them to have a seat in paradise.
Enjoying the same days and skies as me and Dorthy of Oz
earned a stay within it's walls
and the warmth and an ill-faded disease and condition
once dubbed "undefinable  Happiness"
This perfect disease...
We have now truly caught.
acacia Apr 2021
sometimes now I can admit somewhere in my mind I said, at some point in time today, perhaps a few seconds ago,
visions and epitomes of a lifeless me
and of an urgent rage to grip my metal, my shinking razor
shrinking plastic
to close my eyes for more than a few days
to fill my mouth with eight or ten of the small blue ovals
feeling the drowsiness overcome me
rage of a western retaliation of my mind


so I went to him
I asked him if he could send me his poem,
the DH Lawrence one
because my heart hurt and I wanted to cry
and I could feel my inner legs shaking and my integrity about to give
and I wait for him, the one who almost called me a daisy and likened me to a daughter
I wait patiently for the poem
as a protest
as a contest
as a something
as a something. as a nothing.
no more existence please, then, refill. more existence, pellase, then, refill/.
Celina Dec 2017
You were the first
You knew it, and you used it

You operated my growing wisdom
Manipulated my naïve spirit
My forming soul
You took love and turned it against me
Molested my wide-eyed dreams
Beautiful fantasies turned into blackened nightmares
Fragile thoughts pained

You knew it, and you violated it

My frame became your canvass to paint blemishes
Blemishes that are burns now
A once simple shape, broken
A once innocent sense, ruined

You knew it, and you desecrated it

Fresh skin became a desirable playing field
Games that entertain evil
Only monsters enthrall in such selfish sport
Horror took a child to chilling places
Spaces an adolescent mentality should never have been locked in

You knew it, and you fastened it

Tormented illusions filled the air
Your hands molded distress
Distasteful touch ravaged a flawless sheath
Your contention crippled a delicate mind
Grips of dread constructed panic
Created wounds that were sealed too quickly
A surface that could only endure so much

You knew it, and you defiled it

You took masculinity and turned it into terror
Mislead a thoughtful yearning between flesh and made a phantom of agony
Visons of tenderness flipped into intimidation
Once so eager about life, clouded by doubt
So much sickness for one youth to handle
Taken by a devil cloaked in guardian robes
Arms stretched out to protect but nails were embedded in them
A shrouded demon lit by forged sun
Whispers iced an expanding spine
Fingers lined with hate devastated perfection
Grace turned indecent
Intellect decayed

You knew it, and you spoiled it

You took my only body and victimized it
You took my only body and tattooed your insidious existance
You destroyed my perception of passion

The beast in knight’s armor.

You were my first.
zozek Jul 2023
Flagging the truths with words of woes
How could known facts be stabbingly bitter?
Heartbreakingly beautiful love stories flow into rivers and drown
lured by the glittering waters at first deepening all of a sudden at a point where there is no return  
I plunge
I can no longer go back
I cannot envision a world without you
as I plummet I look for your hand in blurring visons
How could this be any different than it is now?
I think about this a lot and  fantasize ways of keeping us alive
One day I am deep down touching the ground next day I simply float in nothingness.
A breathless  brutality captures me when I am down
I frown and drown accepting the depth
Anger helps me to breathe finally
Bubbling gasps become my words
I am in high altitudes deep down
as I suffer in my dyspnea
Nellie 55 May 2022
A fruity color, tougher than any other.
Beautiful tree with a warm color.
Eye candy but the visons sweet and healthy
Blossoms flood the windy sky with beauty
Petals flood this tree, A warm breeze just hit me
The scent is just as sweet and great to look at visually

— The End —