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nivek Oct 2015
I pull fingers through my beard
untangling the night
while my mind gropes around
for anything sublime
I realise there is nothing deeper
than the love that cradles its child
all the way to dreams
tumbling out an untangled beard.
Chloe Haas Dec 2019
That girl sitting there
is a beautiful tragedy
her mind is an aghast
her body
is her grave
her bones
ache
while her throat is being strangled
whats wrong with her mind
cant ever be untangled.
she,
is a beautiful tragedy
jane taylor May 2016
hitherto i naively challenged
my decision to enter an ominous existence
a vicious maze veiled in obscurity
inconceivable to navigate without the accumulation
of bruises, heartache, and psychic mutilation

the torment’s ache so unfathomable
i begged to evaporate beseeching death’s arrival
and with the dexterity of a masterful wizard
i magically spun threads of my shredded soul
into a mangled ball of mental lacerations

then stealthily in the opaque of the night
i rushed the frigid black ocean’s high tide
and deluging myself in the ebony water
i buried the battered ball
now deeply eclipsed in the onyx abyss

it sapped all my strength to hold it under
drowning in the wave’s of sea motion
stinging salt alive on my pours
gasping for air i surrendered my grip
releasing my marred orb of élan vital

capitulating to the sand on the beach
i ceded the fight and watched the sphere roll
unraveling it glistened against the white sand
an opalescent tapestry lit by twilight
mirroring the stars against the coal sky

in the lustrous lunar midnight
reflected back by silver moonlight
littered with specks of fluorescent insight
astonished i drew in my breath as i read
words interlaced in the untangled web

the wounds are there
creating a looking glass
peer in
and you will heal
your own consciousness

©2016janetaylor
Thomas Newlove  Feb 2011
Orange
Thomas Newlove Feb 2011
The pick
All the stress that an orange has caused is painful.
It is painful for the tree from which it came.
Snatched away with promises of sweetness.
A tree mostly green, engulfing
Small speckles of that deceptive orange.
It was such a bright colour – high hopes!
Handpicked by a man only looking for the best,
Choosing poorly not for the first time.
The green leaves frantically try to reclaim what’s theirs.
Branch after branch reaching out, trying to uproot him.
Close, so close. But they are a sea apart,
At least an apple has a core, a heart.

The peel
Now it is pilfered, the painful process begins,
Never quite ending: disappointment beckons.
To try and taste these orange juices
You soldiers must bear the burden.
Each soldier, a finger digging themselves
Into the tough stressful shell.
Fingernails stained with orange blood,
Eyes blinded by the same tangy juices.
It never slips off in one go
Like a roomy balaclava,
But crumbles like the remnants of a bombing.
Brick by brick, orange by orange it crumbles.
Now it is finally undone
But neither tree nor man has won.

The preparation
The crust collapsed, but now
It is time to untangle the web the mantle holds.
First, a division – the separation of brothers
Who served side by side at birth.
Dissected by these soldiers
Acting as a bomb squad,
Searching for those hidden pips.
Found, but not without casualties –
Sticky fingers with no taps in sight.
Once removed the web is untangled.
Tired, he hopes that the stress will swiftly end
Unaware that the sweetness was just pretend.

The pain*
Finally the moment has arrived
And illogical ceremonies commence.
I fear the celebration is far too soon,
For as white touches orange and tries
So desperately to unite,
The tartly taste slays the poor man’s buds:
Igniting like petrol on his burning tongue.
He wishes he could return that orange
To the green tree to which it belongs,
To return a bullet-sprayed windscreen is not an option.
The orange, once bitten, enjoys its trance
Latching on to those pained tingling taste buds.
His orange, a disaster to undress:
Bad taste – a foolish price for such a mess.
Hint: I am English. I have lived in Ireland for most of my life. The colours are Green, White and Orange.... To sum it up in one sentence:
"What a complete mess the man made of things!"
Osiris Jul 2013
In the heavens was written the mandate for the oldest child of the Sun and the Sea.

She the princess, oh nobly born, the oldest of three, was the model for the universe for elegance and wisdom of compassion as the philosopher child.

As she suckled on her mother, the volition of the sea, the philosopher child embraced the light of her father's wisdom as a vessel of beauty that all across all lands and in heaven adored to see.

As a gift of divine creation, the philosopher child, as written, taking form, a sage for humanity, was intended for she. The princess of innocence also loved her little sister and brother with the tenderness that is so special as she.

Upon reaching the age of wonder, her father fashioned a chariot for her to ride, so that where ever she were to travel, she could stand on ethics and scruples and not false pride. Her mother gave her horses the spirit of her volition so to pull their child across many unknown tides where on the chariot their child would be safe from contempt, dismay, envy and lost lives.

The philosopher child crossed the lands of question, where deep in its valley of many masks, politicians made laws of convenience, allowing one to wear many as one could, impromptu, they could choose to decide. She saw, that there, things could be fashioned for popularity where the vital balance of nature, being ignored, was foolishly thought not to reside.

But where ever she traveled, her father as the Sun, her mother the sea, felt safe that their daughter the sage as the philosopher child would learn the cost for compassion, and as wisdom would fill her heart so to eventually bless humanity with its redemption, with her kindness that was deep inside.

One day the princess arrived at the dark forest where the midst was thick and deep.  Creatures started to show from everywhere and reached out to hail her arrival. They said - please step down off your chariot, so to join us, as up there you are so far way and hard for us all to see as we are so low to the ground where the earth barely allows us to be.

In the kindness of her heart of compassion, trusting when she did, they then replied, that you are no better than me. The foxes chuckled in grin as making her feel as if she had to apologize for being the philosopher child. They stole her chariot and wasted her horses who cried out in fear in their terror; but yet not to be heard over all the panacea and glamour afforded in the foxes swift tide. The foxes insisted that their familiarity with her was not a contemptible form of their false pride.

In making her way across treacherous lands, she wondered deep in the dark forest wishing to make peace with all. But each who she met could only offer her the blindness of their limitations and deceit where calling it truth and where she, if to wish acceptance, was not given a choice to decide.

This tore into her father’s heart, as being the Sun he could barley shine as years of this went by. His beautiful philosopher child had suffered the evils of pedestrian false pride. The child’s mother, being the sea, wept as wanting once again to offer to suckle her with the vital elixir of life the way it use to be.

But the creatures of the dark forest, as ruthless as they were crafted to be,  had already poisoned her with the devils blood, as it hardened her veins unless she continue to drink just to have a peaceful blur of the memories in her mind’s eye. This is while many after taking what they wished from her would then cast easily her aside.

As a great dragon her father took form to swoop down from the heavens, when she could find no longer any quarter, so as to lead her to the great tree.

Here he said is the tree of life, where the archetypes as the branches and leaves you can relearn to see. Care for the matriarch as she has always loved you; respect this sacred ground and as a place of refuge, you can always return to, to rest, protected and safe from the world that still must be redeemed as you learn to rebalance the flow of your chi.

A little time past as all seemed to be relieved that the princess was now safe from treacherous beings,. But then on a clouded day a toad then did come by. Costumed as a monk with the guise of truth, sincerity and purity, he said - you are very pretty and do you remember me? We had met some time ago, but I have been away up till now  where some others must go. But explanations of my absence need not be.

He made her laugh. He made her feel light hearted as saying, lean on me. Forget all else, as all you need to see is just me. Whatever you wish to say, need not worry as I will fill in the words for you; and if you need to lie to get by, just remember that you can rationalize it as why should you really care why. In this way you can be as care free as me he did say, and I will teach you cunning facades, as there is really no upside in truth, and especially when you do not want to pay when you only want just to get by. Praise Buddha as I say to fools, as then they let me just slip by.

I will show you how in my own way in how I adore you. I will put pictures of you everywhere for all to see. I will hail how great you are and that you actually belong to, and then make sure to associate you for the legitimacy of me.  

We will have a future you and me, the way I had with others before, but as I have hollowed their souls, and with no longer their money, they have become to bore me.

But rest assured, you are different, and you are special in being brand new. For this we can have a future, but you will need to pay for it now, as currently I am a pulpier in practicing as being my own form of monk. But once I was rich as I can easily claim that again someday I could be. Perhaps Iwill pay you back then, but let’s see.

But you need not question anything I say, but just drink the devils elixir regardless if it blackens your veins. Then magically I will appear as that special prince for your eyes in their blur will to see.  Do not question me, as in handing your fate so cheaply to over, I am the only one to now approve of thee.

That tree of life, he said, must be really nice.  I hear the matriarch is a brittle as can be. Perhaps she will crack before too long where then you will give it all to me. I have stayed here and there, and now as your prince should you not offer me this place to now reside.  After all it is yours isn’t it, and you should express your rights. Do not worry as pettiness is acceptable way of life, and I want to carve that tree in the vain image of me.  Sacred what, family who, roots of you?  All this means nothing to suit the convenience of me. You should not regard these things as being as important to you as me.

Cast everything that had meant something to you before aside. It is now time for you to make all the room for me. I will give you everything you need, so don't worry. As I promised before to others, as long as you seem novel and new you will be able to laugh every day. This is the happiness which you can count on from me.  

The philosopher child’s mother did weep in seeing this toad to claim to be a prince.  Her tears as the sea awoke the child’s  father once again.   As the winged dragon he then swooped down once more from the heavens. With fury in his eyes he said, they who trespass these sacred grounds, the fire of my breath will incinerate. No mediocrity will pass unto these sacred grounds. This you can be assured, that in awakening my fury, your life then will mean little to me.  

Deep down inside, although wishing to ignore a pulsing tone, the princess being the philosopher child could in her dreams hear as she slept her soul speak - what has happened to thee?  Oh nobly born have you forsaken everything in life that heaven has written for you to be. Be fooled not by the toad of warts, as he can only be a prince of fools and not worthy of thee. Have the courage and strength to come back to the divine and shimmering form that you use to be.

Have faith as you can be the great sage, the elegant thinker where your beauty is assured. True princes will then kneel one after another to offer their hand in marriage to thee.

Make no excuse, as all can wait except for the matriarch for thee,  and be 49 days in solitude with your loving father and mother as the transformation of thee.  

Be removed from the trash that has subjected thee. Eight of these days are first required to free you from the devils blood. This is so your heart once again can start pumping again the true spirit of volition that your mother had meant for thee. Use the remaining of the days for your rest, repose, solace and contemplation where in the land of no demands no pressure is put on thee. You can face your mirrors so once again to recognize the cherished roots that compose thee.

Oh nobly born fear not and come into the light of wisdom of your loving father who in his tender love has untangled your matted snarls of your life before.  

Allow the volition of spirit of your mother to once again suckle thee. In this time, in self reflection then you can become reborn again, and transformed, the philosopher child, as divine in being, to bless humanity in the scripture you write that the heavens will then publish for thee.  

All across the earth will gather then to be blessed by the warmth of the shimmering light of thee.  Great princes that are destined to be great kings, who, in having searched before everywhere, they  will know then where to find thee.
Nidhi Manchanda Sep 2015
While she untangled the two sound wires
He stayed back and just looked
As if saying let the silly girl play
The moment she had two resolved ends
His eyes said - O princess this sparkle in your eyes

They listened to the music as it played
She lost herself in his heart beats
As if saying i know this is how u make my life simpler

Staying close and letting me fight
Coming closer to make everything right
#love #music
Nico Julleza Oct 2017
Pretty Pictures; as you are embracing me
Lost in an earthly mood of tranquility
Evident than the shadows fusing my feet
Obscure like pretty lies melodically
Pretty Pictures; sailing, forever will be

Rhapsodize; vividly crossing in my mind
A face of cherubim winged up the sky
Cascading through visions abrupt
A star shoots afar than any distant eye
Longing endless of her passionate touch

We are novels, with so much stories to tell
Red laces, stamps of gold, a lush lullaby
I was the house you painted white
Agitate the deepest hues, then we'd fly
Midnight kisses, Dawn then traded goodbyes

Blithe; for we need nothing to pretend
The clearest blue water, a heaven's scent
To the grass wading courteously
Cloud nine's hanging then lifts my feet
Showering up above washing all anxieties

Pretty pictures; like ribbons untangled
A touch of silk as my heart would lilt
Inner feelings frolic then they'd tremble
For in you the excitement is always a thrill
From the simplest to a goddess divine
Pretty Pictures; moments as you were mine
#Pretty #Pictures #Love #Deep #Sansatuion #Eternal

(NCJ)POETRYProductions. ©2017
neth jones  Oct 2018
War Chime
neth jones Oct 2018
It's always a criminal time to fight/
To fizz away our furies and our fears
in violent interactions within 'The Warrior Play'/
To unite in bouts/
Put personalities in liberty/
Releases
to bring about the death reaction

Untangled in all this
Is an eye/
a void/
It paces and turns
forgetful and lost ;
a powerless ghost and a witness
to these mad spoilings and energy fits/
This pinball of the battlefield
is catalyst ;
The untouched spirit of the weapon-head/
a war chime
and the thirst of all of us 'soldiers'

                 - in pattern & in population
Helios Rietberg Nov 2012
You give me your arm
and we take to the streets

A plethora of bombardments
stimulations and senses
dissatisfaction ringing in our ears
but only faintly––––

and the rush of the waves
bursting down their lanes
crashing into the cacophonies of beyond
but all oblivious

wonders of our bodies
demons of the mind
enticing and exciting all the feathers of the future
ruffled and untangled
purity in its core
smells and sights flashing
immaterial and immortal
from time immemorial
© Helios Rietberg, November 2012
Tired Colors  Nov 2014
geometry
Tired Colors Nov 2014
Polyamorous triangles float
past galaxies,
across time (da da da)
like some untangled thread,
each strand pulled infinitely
thin.
I think someone said:
we are as much as we try to be,
maybe;
but nothing more.

Triangles trying [to be]
squares, but missing the point –
lost associations, lost
between skull curves and
carbon ***** of tongue
spit (dee dee dee)
flipping bubbles through
air;
singing metal ***-lid banter
and clapping pavement with
rubber footprints;
existing in evanescence to the eye,
quicker, quicker, quicker, you see (la la la)
like time here on a ball
with defined surface area
always moving with each
sneeze and wind breeze.

Rock rocking
like nothing at all
while earthly bodies with
destructive ease never pause to ponder
the grandeur of bland neoteric needs;
god-fearing carbon pumping
earth, exploding earth and
******* in the hot air.

Shaped to fear some carbonic idea;
too geometric to care (da dee la).
Nadine  Mar 2019
The man I am....
Nadine Mar 2019
What have I done I wonder why
I'm gentle soft and very shy
I was not the man I am today
But anger hatred has come to stay

I'm really fun and so kind at heart
But others ripped my heart apart
I learnt to fend and fight alone
My body ackes my heart does grown

When I was a little lad
I was happy carefree and never sad
I did the things that small boys do
How I'd turnout no one new

As my toddler years went by
I realised my life was but a lie
Violence, anger, abuse and pain
Would make me hang my head in shame

The happy life I knew before
Had suddenly gone out our back door
Our happy home had disappeared
It looked like evil it's ugly head had reared

Been a kid so young at heart
Like every other kid does start
Had to learnt to grow up fast
And try to run far from my past

But as my teen year went on by
I became more withdrawn and shy
I made wrong choices did wrong things
One night stand and many flings

Drugs, ***** and deep dark things to
Took me to a place so cold and blue
Relationship that never last
Oh if I could just return to my past

As I aged and became much older
Tried to be strong and much bolder
But the past that hunted me
Wouldn't go away you see

I know deep down in side my heart
Everything of me was ripped apart
I'm but an empty shell inside
At least it is my place to hide

Ive pulled so far within myself
All's affected even my health
Im falling deeper into a blacken hole
Ive lost myself and I'm loosing my soul

The ones that are my near and dear
They can not see and do not hear
How could they ever understand
Not even I this was never planed

I can't show love and gentleness
Will my life ever change and be a bliss
I mask my breaking heart inside
Behind smiles and laughter I do hide

I sit alone so many nights
Thinking back on all the fights
I've become my dad you see
The one that totally destroyed me

How do I get my self untangled
When my mind is a mess and mangled
I blame the world for who I've become
At time I wish it was said and done

I lost the ones I loved so dear
Because I caused them constant fear
I never planed to be this man
I should of taken a firmer stand

Face my demons and my past
Then mabye I'd be free at last
But I cant I don't know why
Maybe I'm scared so I live a lie

What I want and what I need
I leave to others and there selfish greed
I never make my own decision
And I have fall into total depression

The ones that think there doing good
If they only really understood
What I yearn for deep inside
My needs my wants my silent cries

I'm at a place so far away
On this earth I don't want to stay
I've given up but still holding on
But the gentle me and selfworth is gone

So in my mind Ill retreat again
Blame the world for all my shame
Tell myself it's not my fault
It's just so hard and difficult

Maybe one day all will change
I know this all sounds very strange
But maybe tomorrow all will be well
And I'll at last come out my shell
Complicated is,
to be Honest
Compromised is ,
not the Conscience
A simple thought

— The End —