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White Lion
It was this day, centuries ago,
milky ways and golden honey showers
flowing down those sandstone castles,
orange alleys smelling pregnant -
the street a womb of fruity towers,
no, never has there been a gate,
not necessary with the inside seen on petaled crowns,
the care of nurture on their unique bark.

It was this day, centuries ago,
you were queen and I was king,
one of France and one of Spain.
Along the alley you were walking
waves of Bordeaux soaked in milk,
pignon skin and anemones
floating through that orange scent.
I've never seen feet so much talking,
as if all the liquid consciously was falling
to hail you in your grace.

And I, a lion, heart of sun,
roaring with my whole of being
just to get your gaze,
was so banned in
sweet and bitter its perpetuum mobile
that I lost my place in time and space,
seeing imprints in the air, leaving trails of thousands of motions,
till you laid your mermaid fingers
into my brown, ragged, flowing mane,
fondling up my spine, entwining the burning focus
in my golden fire - still stuck in duality.

And she climbed my back, sank in my fur,
sent wind in whispers to my ears:
"Soon my moon, you don't have to look to me, no more.
Soon my moon, you'll know what you came looking for.
Soon my moon, you don't have to roar no more to shine.
Her black, soft branches fell over my face,
upside down,
her forehead on my snout, lips on my forgotten third eye:
"Soon my moon, you'll fall down.
Soon my moon, your crown as it is will not be worth one sound.
Soon my moon, you'll be in hell, finding your way as the grey    
Spellbound, no breath was there to take - my eyes were crying:
"You can break
if you want."
A moment worth of sinking and she was licking up my tears,
coming closer with her black holes,
"Let me be here for eternity, let me be...," last words of a king,
so she started to sing:
"Soon my moon,
soon my moon,
you know you have to fall,
to become sun,
and she looked me in my eyes,
smiling in wisdom of her own,
as she swallowed me whole.

Hot hell, she fell, Bordeaux on fire
in honey pignon milk,
caramelized paintings on her skin
dripping off beautiful rose colored *******,
causing ripples under shock

Sandcastles melting in her heat.

And I lay there, licking up her wounds
with now greyed paws,
while she's long gone.
A mix of daydreaming, memory, possible future, love
and pictures from which I don't know where they are coming from.

Don't know if it is finished yet, any ideas?
my father’s temper
lingers on my tongue
and I’ve got my mother’s dimples and
tendency to romanticize the pain
so I’m sorry
about the bitter texts and
poems I wish
I never sent
you were terrible for me
and it makes me miss you even more.
Neha Sharma
Created a lot of memories
Another year passed
Yet a lot new to discover.

~your smiling queen :)
My 16th birthday
Flurries have settled
Lurkers leave fading treads
And behind locked doors
They watch in the warmth
And the crew have gone
Where the bitter wind blows
While the silent deadringer
Waits in the snow.
Devon Brock
Ask upon the sun gods.
Seek among the goddess earth.
Chant and clang the ancestors for guidance,
good fortunes, and new birth.
All will answer in simple truths,
as all of humanity's thinkers often do
with volumes thick, verbose and empty.

Scream into the night
and stir a neighbor's peace
into soupy dreams of portent and panic.
That job, once done, sets forth the task
that all the ancients knew:
The dishes wash smoother when soaked.

A grain in a bowl is not empty.
Basil brings life to bland fare,
and the herbs of spring intensify
once dried and stored for winter.
saw you facing God in spite,
saw your face and got inspired
much less walking on water
Sally S Ali
When it rains,
hide me by
your arms.

When it's sunny,
take me in a picnic
With your eyes.

When it's windy,
let's talk
about love.

in a stormy day,
hold me hard
and ..
Can you sing for me?
Michael Marchese
The former me was immature
Was ignorant
Was insecure
Would instigate
And derogate
And hate
And hate
And hate
At something always
In the way,
Some implacable
As sullen as
The color gray
Torrential was
The constant rain
I still can’t explain
A rabid beast
I couldn’t tame
In every smiling face
Was pain
Contained within
The joy we feign
And all escape attempts
In vain
Except an early
Ego grave
I was a wildflower, and all he wanted to do was trap me in a vase.
Muluuta Mugagga
stuck on you, i am
but the self in you
deeply rooted in another!

why is the meeting point
scared of us?
love is funny
F A Pacelli
when they insult you
smile back
when they hurt you
smile back
they don’t matter
you matter
so smile back
know in your heart
you will show them all
what you are made of

Verse 1:

Don't tell me that
You miss me

Don't you know
I feel enough
As Is

Don't tell me that
You're broke and

You know that I
Can't handle all
Of This


Don't share with me
Your pain
I can't take
It all

You know I'm
Not as strong as
I was in my
Golden age

I can't fix
Your broken parts
Or soothe your
Aching heart

I am the only one
That I should
Try and save

I still miss you too
But I am
What I was

I can't lift you up
While I am
Lying On the

I still hold
Out hope I'll
Be Back

I'll show up
And make it
All OK

But Not

Don't tell me that
You're broke and
Unfinished song...
Felt strongly today...
Blue jean sky
hangs over the park
The one i love next to me her
Arm resting behind me my
Head on her chest our
Legs tangled together like
Knotted strings
Blue jean grows darker
Our love grows brighter
She’s wrapped around me
Swaying to the beat of the music
My jacket around her shoulders
Red looks good on her
She sings along
I close my eyes
Is this bliss?
Carmen Jane
Sitting on the verge of darkness
Had my left hand melted into it
Quickly I looked away, to my right
And I see the tall green trees
I see their tips
Like a giant ,I step on them
They won't bend a bit.

Yet the birds feel ...
They quickly gather,
In formation,
To shape my missing hand.
That's how, here I stand!

Now, when I sink,
I'm tall as a tree.
I share the same light
Yet I don't share their roots
My journey is not done,
As my walk has just begun.
Mystic Ink Plus

Genre: Abstract Inspirational
Theme: Immortality
london b blue
what a foolish girl i am
crying over the past
mourning the future.
whispering sweet nothings
to men who's names
i don't even know.
Some souls are a little too porous
They break promises and justify it
A little too effin effortlessly
Words are my only medium these days
And I’d hate for you to have to hesitate
Just because you lack character and have
Nothing relevant or useful to relay
Pooja Jajoo
You have to be happy yourself.
No one is going to make you happy until or unless you yourself is happy.

Everyone here in this universe is in their own zone, dealing with his/ her problem.

No one is bothered with what you do and how you manage it to do.

You have to make it on your own.

So just start working.
This is my final goodbye
It's hard for me to see you walking by with that other guy
Even though your heart didn't feel the same way
but I'm glad you brought me joy
Time kept moving forward
but I kept standing still
Waiting for you to feel the same way
but I guess such things only happen in dreams
So, that's why this is my final goodbye to you
It's time for me to move along with time
and say goodbye to this bittersweet dream that kept me tied
Randy Johnson
Mom carried me for ten months, I was one month late.
Tomorrow will be my birthday and I'll be turning forty-eight.
In just two years from now, I will have lived for half a century.
It was 576 months ago when my mom gave birth to me.
Camilla Peeters
wrapping around it
that it should be by now
naturally another joke
yesterday's failed. Let's look
one more time


off to the garden
and peaking through the window to
see the Little

resignation "It's working"
we can be the entire day
Katja Pullinen
Good person from elevator.
I wish you find your love.
You think we matter
and you think we’ve gone far?
I will teach you better
how much matters a star?

Not a lot, insignificant
It's just one tiny light
but we look the same
in someone else's sky
keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­ l                  is to what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.
"keep your eyes closed love. sometimes all you have to listen is to what the sound of the waves tells you to do"

When I was much younger, beaches were my second favorite places. I still love watching waves as they go by, crashing against each other and the whole process repeating all over again.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems too *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.
Average Dreamer
I want my meaning to transcend the
and to bring
together future
to have my words
mean something
in the millenia from now
i think you get it
What's the point
Of telling the truth
If even my truth
Is at question?
Noah Rein
‘I just need time’
Is a thing I say pretty often
But the thing is
I approach everything with caution

I’m not spontaneous
I can’t just jump into new things
I know it’s weird
But I need to know what each day brings

Every new thing
is a mountain for me climb
So I just need to plan ahead
You see, I just need time
You used to adore me
Then I finally let you in
And now all you see
Are my flaws and insecurities

Is it all in my head
Or did you prove myself right
Is it because of what I said
Or what I did that night

I was so stupid
I was so foolish
I knew I shouldn’t have done it
But couldn’t help and be selfish

All I wanted was to express
And now I’m depressed
Because of the excess
Actions I could’ve accessed

I can be obsessive
But please see my intentions
I was trying to be impressive
But all it caused was tension

This is my flaw, I know
I just wanted to show
All the love that you deserve
But it’s that I couldn’t preserve
Ariana Bagley
I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.
White Lion
And as the poet is in love with his creation,
pouring his divine confusion
into words,
which form the scene
all on their own,

Hades watched a thousand dying butterflies above the Acheron,
shooting star leaves melting
with this everlasting song of grief -
lost souls trying to save themselves
through holding onto black waves in ecstasy
for never having to face the light in their eyes,

he was awakened.

In death they fell
and with them their eggs,

putrefaction of slow motion dragons
spinning beds on Acheron's black surface,
warming what shall be
the birthplace of many
building bridges between
the twilight of their mother's fleshy ground,

a sight of life on his putrescent river,

- his cold shoulders shiver -

in contrast

veils withered,
shadow petals
covering volcano cliffs
at his feet.

Striding in tune of falling wings,

freezing hands dive slowly
through the riverbed
in snowfall of these many
broken ways

Bend death
reaching for
forgotten roots,

once there was a fig tree
decorating somber blues.


"Confusion is a sensual state."

"These corpses would call it abuse."

"You did what you had to do -
the lost, they crave for similar hues,
loneliness has to swim through shadow rivers,
they would never know what light was,
if it wasn't for you.

He held her hand that night,
opening the fig with his teeth,
their souls made from the same star,
their flesh, pale clay,
eyes glimmering from afar...


Sister ashes,
contractions for the wounded,
left where darkness could feel the cycle of
day and night.

- "Only in her eyes" -

- "Only in her eyes" -

He wished her ashes could have cried,
so he did release the disease
to please dry ground.

The Acheron born
in tears forlorn
through sight
of a body loved
under the fig tree

which should have kissed the sun,
despite preset destiny.

- Her movement, melody feeding fireflies in underworld's ties,
her voice, a caress to remind  -

Hades grabbed his heart
where her rooted arms
were touching the source
under layers of black sand

and silk worms shat bridges between liquid graves,

not even habitual waves were able to stop
these equilibrists from dancing
above this once started ****,

the legacy of rainbows
eternally engraved
in rebirth of
flying tenderly
to space.

White strings
angelically touching
devilish safes
capturing hopeful bays
have risen ways
of difference
in his shameful prays.

- A ladle carved out of the sky,
right there where his sister died -

New meaning,
defeating told,

he scooped silk bridges
into his hollow heart,

stitches in corners,
tension in twilight
a song to be sung
for the fragility of her caring fingers,
gentle masters of the art
of turning black to gold,

he created the harp.

Corpses calm.
Honey drooling eyes.
Hades conquering Mars.
if we could be
someone completely different

at least for a while

child to adult  woman to man
asylant to millionaire  president to farmer
human to animal or tree

or vice versa

we can imagine all this
in our phantasies and virtual worlds
yet we are missing essentials

to BE a mouse  a bear  a shark
a president  a film star  a tree
is to feel  think  sense  suffer
live in their alien worlds

maybe also understand

at least for a while
difference  alien understanding j
Carl D'Souza
Everything my love wears
is beautiful
because it’s on her.
William Troup
Zero craves to be the one,
   one in many ... but many a few!
One craves to be as two,
   two in surrender ... but many will do!
Two craves to be as three,
   three as family ... but many will come!
Three craves to be as before,
   before in harmony ... but many undone!

Two as one became you and I;
   my little eye ... we begin with I!
   We, so little, little of time,
      with chances away ...
      but what for today?

Today is two, three more to go,
   till five is done ... now two to enjoy!
   Time is little, little, but vast,
      and wasted on youth ...
      and for tomorrow? ... time?
you cared a little less yesterday.
i should've been grateful
because you don't at all today.
'how was your day'
Unable to sleep
Things keep playing
Across my mind

ting is
your           life
thro             ugh
a ne           edle
and         if
you sew
Being real is
the simplest
form of honesty.
Daggers drawn
I wait
For the battle to begin
To settle old and new scores
But did I not know
I shun spilling blood
I will not raise my hands
To strike
I will not fight
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