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Tensei  Jul 2019
Wreckoning
Tensei Jul 2019
Footsteps crack the timber spines
as you turn your sacred head
begging lights that cease to glow
to absolve you of the dread

you plead the cosmos for salvation
but it was dealt a feeble hand
don't you know the sun is deaf
when it's dark, when I impend

your skin quivers like December
making waltz your August mane
June eyes moisten as you realize
you're my Christmas, my *******

mind's in flight but legs are nailed
to the dirt that gave me birth
shoulders blend in one anoher
at the sense of my unworth

as the dusk forgets to dawn
I claim my morning in your eve
tonguing omens to your core
'twixt the hills that weightless heave

feelers clad of rotting bone
crease your wrap of liquid stars
midnight tears and we are dropped
down the mouth that ever starves

bend the wings you'll never spring
on the winds that summers blew
you're below, my autumn leaf
I am all that's left of you

hunger breaks my crooked jaw
what was buried comes afloat
as the sea you've always been
calms the fires in my throat

tar will steal your holy veins
you will leave my arms forlorn
that's the price a fiend must pay
on the hunt for unicorns

until then I breathe your lungs
as my pupils pulse with felony
you're the dream I'll never have
my damnation, my Persephone.
Harriet  Feb 2013
Untitled
Harriet Feb 2013
I sit here watching you intently
Hoping that you may graze me gently
And wish that I could have the courage
To speak a work but cannot manage
To face the fear of you refusing
And find myself forever losing
The battle between those two hearts
And then the ocean of salt starts
And flows past your always glazed eyes
And still a piece of me always dies
When you wander past without a glance
And leave me in an incurable trance
For you hold up the heaven above my earth
As I sink forever in my unworth.
loggi  Jul 2017
Circumround
loggi Jul 2017
Well let's count.
1 2 3
4 5 6
7 8 9
Do you have the time?
When in boredom
I count the minutes
The ticks as they spin
Circumround.

In an hour
I'll be better.
In a second
I'll be worst.
But in the moment
I lack of worth.

in an hour
I'll be of service
In a second
I'll be unworth it
In a history
I'll be unnoticed
In a memory
I'll be cherished.

5 4 3 2 1
Oh wait
I'm not done.
1 2 3 4 5
Ticks my life.
riley minteer Nov 2019
i've never seen such
astounding things
a discovery made
on a passage within

i recall sleeping
in celestial cots
made up of cygnus,
pavo,
the enticing lot

green velvet curtains drawn
block out the sun
although the windows are no more than
one
surrounded
by ivies, scripture
and platinum-tipped
pens
the era of thought
all within my
mind...

i awaken from slumber to quite different sights

the very same forces that prevail in this place,
the forces above
alluding, brooding

the thief comes too smug,
wind thrashes the sails
a cynical offering,
all grief to repent,
the season of starving,
the season of lent

isn't it odd how the winds never billow?
over the strangest utopian lands
the islands of women with no trace of men
the archipelagos of shellfish on land
and that one place due north...
beyond arctic bird coves
where wisps of the sky
grace plat-inum snow

the things that you see when it's dark on the ocean
four sailors drunken on laughter and autumn-***
down though the seabed
the lowest of shores
the music through rafters,
flutes clamor and roar...

torn and burdened is the world,
but brokenness never equated unworth
the land once which was
trodden,
the seas overcame
i nod off to sleep
just to shake off the pain
the forces come crashing,
formed over the bluff
indifferently shouting,
unrighteously tough

here from my balcony
on french-spanish estate
once indifferent forces,
concluding in rain.
-riley minteer
“i've never seen such astounding things”
(from “forces at bay”)
Thursday, November 14, 2019
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2017
if you really don't understand this, start reading heidegger, i'm probably half the "worth" of concern in this debacle... i can't take the immediate critique of allowing someone to call this a "word salad", when someone cites such a noun against me, and hasn't bothered reading a single book of existential philosophy, instead pretending to write a novel, but instead bound to playing video games... so so soorry; oh *******, i like video games... war robots! interactive internet gaming... my user name? otto iv.

to write poetry,
as if to become a tsunami
akin to a mongolian
horde...
   nothing more,
nothing less:
  to write poetry, without
a single care for orthodoxy
in terms of recognised
dogmatism, and subsequent
recognition of technique:
to write poetry
with only one "technique"
in mind:
   the river...
      to flow, unconscious born,
upon the altar of death:
aware the prescribed demise...
to write poetry,
in "metaphor": akin
      to a mongolian horde:
to overpower with trick
or tail,
to overpower, with volume
with dynamo,
where the river meets
               the waterfall -
to steal from the thief *cogito
,
and return all
     "nonsense" of expression
into a conflict of sum
vs. non sum, and liberate
cogito, toward the realm
of neither sum nor non sum:
that is vanus... emptiness,
that the hebrews call ayin -
or rather: ayin sof,
that the latins call it less
remarked: the emptied thing,
that contains the libra of a
worth of: being the "thing" of being,
contra the unworth of: "being" being:
            a worth of the thing
               "known" as "non-being"
without the immediacy to conform
   to a vector of will, i.e. the point.
can it be said without an
existential impetus for pedantry
in markings of the punctual spare
of the fashionable 15? i can't
think of any other approach, minding
the complex of: predestination
without invoking images...
       i agree: a masquerade of "a" self...
truth goes out the window,
along with the aquarium...
with the atheistic scissors cut into:
   what truth? given a secondary potential
of a masquerade of "the" self...
   and the primary potential of "a" self
as that: which serves best the whim,
   and the attache of: whimsical?
language can imitate the next physics
discovery, it too can become sub-atomic -
  in that sub-lettered ushers in
     confusing language:
            language post-kabbalism
in the sub-atomic realm looks like this...
poets too paint...
               but the b & w image looks rather
confusing, or least of all: difficult
to manage a convo over...
             pompous? hardly...
            yes, otto iv says:
   it's a decent psychological experiment...
                   a group-think endeavour;
if there is to be any remnant art,
it can't "escape" into allowing contemporary
understanding and mastery over it,
   true art, has to be akin to history,
is must: stretch beyond the foundation -
should a contemporary understand it,
i'd find that an insult,
    and should a contemporary not understand
it, and use a psychiatric term for
discrediting the effort imbued in the work...
well... the same insult results...
   pity the russians...
  they have a "hard sign" ъ,
              and a "soft sign" ь
(mięki vs. twardy) -
          both are diacritical indicators -
of whatever letter they are invited to represent...
shame the russians, being so religiously
orthodox, never learned diacritical orthodoxy,
of invoking stressors from either above,
or below...
                              e.g.               ę = иъ
   but in french?                  é = иь...

     grave e? i.e. è? that's just a ******* pacman.  

p.s. bloodhound gang's song mope...
alt.? falco... rock rock... rock me
                 aschmadeutsche'tooshy-tooshy:
a fabergé egg before the conversation
starts, talking the lingo of the floral fleshy bits...

hey! mama russia! learn the vertical
indicators! i'm done trying to differentiate
the horizontals!
Tyler Sep 2021
i think i see the nightmare now
i am better off gone
i always knew
-slowly i fade-
the words can't produce.
a maelstrom of mixed false and true.
too much to explain,
too little proof.
i earned that title of untrust
but feel unworth
(with my own known general worth)
of its definition.
~drifting through my trees~
i am more
than what others
mark me
but
i am less
than what others
brand me
i know what i believe
i am less than good,
but i am trying to do right.
i am more than bad,
i hope to understand.
i believe what i see
i still feel the need to be alone
a half of my life was given,
that now feels taken.
i am unbelievable
i hope one day
it'll be good.
i can never know what to do
but i search in vain
i don't know if its right to follow
but i still would love company
i hope you're okay .
KorbydAngyle Aug 2020
Unending anger burgeoning macerations
**** the still falling rolling waves of deaths acclimations
When a mark is made by the world falling through
a place that you know you must do what you do
Endeavored an' known flack no fault take without tears
Eden word every word a lie of the unworth
Aeiye sins in a drought tin and all i'm dropping out
This mind in radiation is more than you can believe and
you don't even know it
Fore ring the destiny
The wings of destiny
For the demons near among us
The demon is quixotic
Numbers and chords strings melt never lasting
comporting kingdom
You can equal your match there's no eternity
with eternity's wisdom
Travesty of less today in assumption less presuming
All there lost liaisons to triple the virus threats on
the world of the living
With you in mind the dancing spree turns to
lucidity then slaughter
Angels and demons to the early realm after the
nixed allure of the daughters
Now you must twist the code of your life fear
and return to function
Living systems of justice now they're yours for the
implementation begins destiny.. the Dungeon!
Fore ring the destiny
The wings of destiny
For the demons near among us
the demon is quixotic

— The End —