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Diána Bósa  Nov 2017
Midheaven
Diána Bósa Nov 2017
In this midheaven of demigods.
beneath this semidetached shelter
of semi-manufactured souls.
apart from the half-hearted's dimidiate
the bright-half departs
for dovetailing all of our halves.
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
"Every survivor of ****** assault deserves to be heard, believed, and supported."

Rainwater of
the Elysian fields,
you assuredly do
like to drown your winged heroines?
You write them as strange
bitter narratives,
spurious to the calling
or as a bit of
bloodletting go.

The history formed around either
her breaking at the seams
upon the witching hour,
and her own home village
pillaging her claims
in the bonfire;
Or the arcane notion
no woman shall give testimony
against a neighbor
on the occasion he's a man.

Yes, she cried 'no' at the temple gate
Yes, she repeated such entreaties
But she'd also been into the ale
and wore an overtly
fetching carousal dress
you incensed.
Let her dam break
Let her try and flood us over
you mocked.
She was only a wayfaring angel
one reckless bird of passage
What type of wounds
could she inflict?

How easily you lost sight
of her will & halo
becoming stronger than fright.
Down she poured in antipathy,
until covering your gaping mouth!
It wasn't rain that killed you,
for you were the rain,
it was her blood calling out
that finally did you in...
When it comes to ****** assault and/or harassment, a woman's voice needs to be listened to and believed.

Inspired by the poem "Dark Sky, One Star," by fellow HP writer Ashly Kocher.
palladia  Dec 2013
algol sent me
palladia Dec 2013
some information cannot be found – you can only originate it. facts are often recycled in attempt to clear a logjam that has prevented us from finding ourselves. when i look at the billions of directions my life could have taken, you have to admit we're a very tough bunch, because, who else would have tagged along at this point? we're a recipe for disaster, but that's alright, because we already racked everything. we're bottlenecked. we're deadlocked in ourselves, and there's no way out.

strength cannot be given – it is only self-acquired. we can think of ourselves as vessels of change, but it won't be gifted to you. it has to be done by yourself. it's a real grabber. and once we take it to heart, it works.

axiology—the study of judgments. choice is so vital in postmodern culture, there's a whole branch of study attributed to it. should i take this opportunity, or should i decline it for another? should i rear success with my horns, or wait ecstatically for it to poke me? should i recline, take an easy ride, or work for it? – no matter which outcome, you're still going down the drain because you haven't established the most important part (yet).

i am struggling to understand economics, as well as applied mathematics. wall street certainly does not hang easy for me, but there is more to discuss than stocks and bonds. society has put us in stocks and keeps us in ******* – that’s wall street for you! there are still certain mysteries, such as you cannot put a negative number inside a radical. and all parabolas will have a reflecting twin, no matter how you look at it.

i fell asleep to a black and white movie, and it was still playing when i awoke. however it was in colour. i rubbed my eyes and sat there dazed until i concluded i was dreaming in colour. i woke up again and it was over. now i think that i watch the same movie, but colourized in my dreams, and that i can dream reality, while that reality is a dream within itself.

much reflection has been cast upon theoretical and unchallenged interest in scholars, for example. some presume we can only perceive one – ten-thousands of the universe but of course this can never be proven along with life's destiny and life's purpose, and indubitably, life's meaning. much dark and invisible matter perhaps comprise the rest, but the threads of an unroped cosmos are far from being knitted. can you prove your eternal existence by way of religiosity or science? Jesus rose on the third day and so did the interstellar medium situated in the midheaven. i sleep with a book of philosophy under my pillow, and i'm not in the least ashamed. Alexander the Great slept with a copy of the Iliad, and Mary Shelley, her late husband’s heart. at least philosophy doesn’t stain.

total uproar soars through the galaxy when i begin to think. the terror strikes, and i cower discrediting the truth. my trine is Jupiter, Saturn, and the sun. i’m an Aries, like the one of Judea. constant virtue is what i can believe but i speak in the revolutionary sense. i can enhance my life as long as i am able to try. there is always room to improve a man and i attest to that.

a literary device isn't useful at all until applied in context. an ambition isn't fully good until it is launched. Newton was right, after all. a body is motion will stay in motion until acted upon by an outside force. you are an artist as long as you keep your creative process going until somebody threatens you. then you hide. you establish a force field, which protects you, and you trudge on, because all that matters is your art, in the end. it's everything.

think... Ω-style. one day lofty things won't take pleasure looking at you, because you’ll be confronting them head-first. machtprobe, a german word for showdown. like the one you'll be taking with yourself if you don't buckle down and unravel your weaknesses.

this morning i woke up and stared at myself in the mirror. i was depressed at the condition of my life and my position in the world. my reflection stared back and held up its ******* at me, saying "what are you going to do about it?" not knowing how to answer, i fumbled around possible responses, but it kept going, "it's not that simple, isn't it? life can be tricky when you've got no motivation. it leaves you in a rut until one morning you wake up, depressed about the condition of your life and your position in the world and your mirror's reflection holds up that *******, insuring you're completely aware of the awaiting consequences." it finally shut up and i stood there contemplating its message. "how bad do you want this?" were its last words i heard before i knew that 'initiative' was the one i would soon fall in love with and meet at the chapel to wed.

"either you take it all the way, or you're gonna go astray." it's either one or another, a choice that we have to make. and i don't my reflection to pose a threat to my self-esteem again, so i'm gonna take it all the way...because really. how bad do i want this?

i don't want to have a shoot out with myself again. so when you ask, i'll just tell you algol sent me.
I've been fostering this one for a long time: my ruminations that I've collected over the past year. It's a mini-autobiography of my life over the past year and what I hope to change in the future. It's those New's Years resolutions we keep for about a week and then banish until December 31 the next year. And now I'm taking a stand again and want to reclaim myself from the miserable ruts I fall into. So, it's more of a personal poem, as a sort of get up and go for the future of myself and my art. And I cannot fall back. Think: "how bad do you want this?"

This poem is written in anti-traditional form: no rhyme, meter, lines, or verses. It's more of an essay, because I am especially fond of writing them, when the topic is left up to the author to describe.
David R  Feb 2022
Love's Regret
David R Feb 2022
Stop press!
I confess
for wedding-band
i did not stand
nor for my rights
to scale life's heights
to spend my nights
with set sight
my soul's delight
who shined so bright
upon my midheaven

oh yes, i regret,
my life's meander,
i'll not quick forget
that living wonder
drop o' thousand rainbows
secret of green meadows
more delicate than a buttercup
graced by angelic dewdrop
why did i not tell you
not send you billet-doux
about the million sparks of you
that shine upon my heaven
BLT's Merriam-Webster Word of The Day Challenge
#billet-doux, meander

— The End —