v3sago - Hello Poetry

The wind knocks on my door Consciousness supine Agitation whispers ascend Subtle glances leaning through the blinds Blue jeans waiting patiently on my bed Hardshell silhouettes soften by daylight Irrationality forthwith descending

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Apr 25

Apr 25, 2026 at 1:29 PM UTC

Notion

The wind knocks on my door Consciousness supine Agitation whispers ascend Subtle glances leaning through the blinds Blue jeans waiting patiently on my bed Hardshell silhouettes soften by daylight Irrationality forthwith descending

18

Lies and Black ties Rough edges In a caramel Coat Dark Velvet garments Pasting hair and bones With roses and thorns

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Apr 12

Apr 12, 2026 at 12:12 PM UTC

Covered in white

Lies and Black ties Rough edges In a caramel Coat Dark Velvet garments Pasting hair and bones With roses and thorns

11

Opening wounds Revealing marvelous colors once imagined twice inverted, piercing the make believe of consciousness. Brushing the sky with gloom and sunshine. The seeds keep you narrow with the thistles lovely arrows wave, after wave. Drifting, the count down now Four, 3, 2, 1. Your back Your shoulders Shake a little Your ears ring with a tickle Obscenities to your oblivion Rain drips... drops and pours They keep growing. The days end brings distress to fill the streets with your cool bliss. It's beginning, swaying with neon lights As lanterns dry a vintage night. Opening the gate to Acropolis

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Apr 1

Apr 1, 2026 at 7:59 PM UTC

Acropolis

Opening wounds Revealing marvelous colors once imagined twice inverted, piercing the make believe of consciousness. Brushing the sky with gloom and sunshine. The seeds keep you narrow with the thistles lovely arrows wave, after wave. Drifting, the count down now Four, 3, 2, 1. Your back Your shoulders Shake a little Your ears ring with a tickle Obscenities to your oblivion Rain drips... drops and pours They keep growing. The days end brings distress to fill the streets with your cool bliss. It's beginning, swaying with neon lights As lanterns dry a vintage night. Opening the gate to Acropolis

31

I tried again yes, this morning opening the window awning. Ajar at last, I could see. The lush grassy hill before me. Splintered sore my knees and worn degrees. Calling back the noon high lectures warm and still the smiling trees. I reached around Pulled myself up from what I could. reached about the same old boots. No distance just broken nails Straps, loosened loops ripped my sole in two. grin inside because you know the truth desperation comes to visit soon. Stay... Make some tea to feel better find the spoon and wear your sweater. No need to leave, it's all the same. Distance hums the grand parade Vibrant sounds fill your figure. Go back down and lie awake. This indecision I cannot take. Up or down again?

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Mar 3

Mar 3, 2026 at 9:31 PM UTC

Up again...or Down?

I tried again yes, this morning opening the window awning. Ajar at last, I could see. The lush grassy hill before me. Splintered sore my knees and worn degrees. Calling back the noon high lectures warm and still the smiling trees. I reached around Pulled myself up from what I could. reached about the same old boots. No distance just broken nails Straps, loosened loops ripped my sole in two. grin inside because you know the truth desperation comes to visit soon. Stay... Make some tea to feel better find the spoon and wear your sweater. No need to leave, it's all the same. Distance hums the grand parade Vibrant sounds fill your figure. Go back down and lie awake. This indecision I cannot take. Up or down again?

30

Moving phrenetic sounds out of my mouth, An alphabetic slur that runs past hollowed walls and mirrors. Dry... Receding gestures fall on paved reasons that slowly cover time. I saw the blue covered sky filled with haze and grey eyes. The whirl of white spinning in frantic noise driving down southern Illinois. Now, look through windows, look through mirrors. The shattered empty glass Never returning the hours Of Ash and Sand.

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Feb 27

Feb 27, 2026 at 10:28 AM UTC

Ash and Sand

Moving phrenetic sounds out of my mouth, An alphabetic slur that runs past hollowed walls and mirrors. Dry... Receding gestures fall on paved reasons that slowly cover time. I saw the blue covered sky filled with haze and grey eyes. The whirl of white spinning in frantic noise driving down southern Illinois. Now, look through windows, look through mirrors. The shattered empty glass Never returning the hours Of Ash and Sand.

19

Silverstone, red pumps, golden earrings, bronze little heart. Acute_ Piercing like art, moves like an axis, Star Over dark skies, below clear water. Fishing over me the header reads_ wake the coral in Sea.

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Jan 14, 2021

Jan 14, 2021 at 6:08 PM UTC

The Looking Girl

Silverstone, red pumps, golden earrings, bronze little heart. Acute_ Piercing like art, moves like an axis, Star Over dark skies, below clear water. Fishing over me the header reads_ wake the coral in Sea.

13

I miss the essence of your citrus scent, hidden In a warm tropical space Leaving me high and dense. Your sweet golden streaks, hugging your gentle face with a radiant glow, your warm words always cause a sweet downpour. In bliss, it seems to show, our friendship further grows. The spell of your gestures and smile pulsating through, like soft velvet fire coursing through latent desires. We share a glare as you walk away, Display a smirk and say another day. You hold my hand through conscience dreams, Cradling this existence of you and me.

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Dec 6, 2020

Dec 6, 2020 at 2:27 PM UTC

Kindred Soul

I miss the essence of your citrus scent, hidden In a warm tropical space Leaving me high and dense. Your sweet golden streaks, hugging your gentle face with a radiant glow, your warm words always cause a sweet downpour. In bliss, it seems to show, our friendship further grows. The spell of your gestures and smile pulsating through, like soft velvet fire coursing through latent desires. We share a glare as you walk away, Display a smirk and say another day. You hold my hand through conscience dreams, Cradling this existence of you and me.

16

Like feathers on a glass bristles on a wire hold me close to your veneer paved through scratched, ***** cracks and the spaces between the lids of my edges. No reason for separation the ripples of hope smeared across carelessly now they fade. what was once the channel, a filter of silence only to be seen like feathers passing by a breeze. pacing little mirror obscene like a withering fire. stay by a little longer too dry to reach again the peeling ... peels away

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Aug 24, 2020

Aug 24, 2020 at 11:27 PM UTC

Painted

Like feathers on a glass bristles on a wire hold me close to your veneer paved through scratched, ***** cracks and the spaces between the lids of my edges. No reason for separation the ripples of hope smeared across carelessly now they fade. what was once the channel, a filter of silence only to be seen like feathers passing by a breeze. pacing little mirror obscene like a withering fire. stay by a little longer too dry to reach again the peeling ... peels away

20

A haze that forms a sky trickles down like droplets of pain, the more I shift the less my ideal thoughts decide. Distant perception of another lie relate to time again, again, another motion we can't seem to leave behind. The pulse knocks another course to distort the image of another mind only after time, again the trickles moving down your spine. A beating perception, lonely in desperation reaching for a distant image of a memory disdain, the horrid vivid feeding ardently the agony, felt inside. Foresee the exit, there's an entrance to elude you slowly pursue the perceptions of acceptance the only thing you can see, leaves you in deceit the image of another thought you once perceived. This outward feed to feed within is reaching for another memory you can't discern. The only thing left to feel the only thought left to heal the memory of dreams left within.

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Aug 4, 2020

Aug 4, 2020 at 12:27 AM UTC

The out within

A haze that forms a sky trickles down like droplets of pain, the more I shift the less my ideal thoughts decide. Distant perception of another lie relate to time again, again, another motion we can't seem to leave behind. The pulse knocks another course to distort the image of another mind only after time, again the trickles moving down your spine. A beating perception, lonely in desperation reaching for a distant image of a memory disdain, the horrid vivid feeding ardently the agony, felt inside. Foresee the exit, there's an entrance to elude you slowly pursue the perceptions of acceptance the only thing you can see, leaves you in deceit the image of another thought you once perceived. This outward feed to feed within is reaching for another memory you can't discern. The only thing left to feel the only thought left to heal the memory of dreams left within.

34

The waste of beauty... Curved and ordure tan yet pale, made of soft fibers with an essence of sweets Precise and oblique down, somewhere beneath Radiant elated above. Waste of beauty... holding your surmise a keeper of what lies Ahead. -LR (v3sago)

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Jun 11, 2020

Jun 11, 2020 at 12:54 AM UTC

Allure

The waste of beauty... Curved and ordure tan yet pale, made of soft fibers with an essence of sweets Precise and oblique down, somewhere beneath Radiant elated above. Waste of beauty... holding your surmise a keeper of what lies Ahead. -LR (v3sago)

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