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a  Aug 5
paragon
a Aug 5
he said he saw light in me.
a paragon of purity,
a statue of aphrodite.
“eros brought us together”
and they did well.
when i think of us it's woolgathering,
rubbed on the edges like a dream.
we are flushed, sprawled in a meadow.
my hair is endless, my skin is clean again.
and he still looks the same.
i can never be her again, she is no longer mine.
CK Baker Jan 2017
( i )

I lucked out
on table 4 last night
window seat
baseboard heat
and intimate passages
from Ginsberg
in his purest
and most evident form

Cover-all Carl was draped
in his usual garb
(brushing off a 3 day scrub)
turning pages
of yesterday's news
animating, culturing, bantering
on the fate of the
Greek barber
(in an accent of which
I'm not so sure)

His cronies
looked on
(with a twisted conviction)
countering
with their own tales
of ingovernance and woe
did you know that Panasonic
lost 5 billion last quarter?


The evening moved
in time lapse fashion;
streaming halogen lights
painted winds
cover sounds
and a host of
high school girls
running cold

Maleah passed
on her late shift
(checking the pile and trough)
patronized the boys
and called it a night

( ii )

The bald man
is back at it again
bickering at the till
something about
a cold free coffee
or 99 cents
or the coloured guy
behind him who got it hot
a kind Filipino
is trying to get it done
at 8 bucks per,
losing her cool
and shedding a tear

Wonder what the Purewals
or Haitians or Cossacks
would have to say
of this grim public reminder,
wonder what
this sad f*ck
will do tonight
without his
bus pass
or sling sack
or broken Turkish stems
pluviophile  Sep 4
sun
pluviophile Sep 4
sun
you are like the sun
i might be flying too high
wanting you
you are further than i can reach
but close enough to hurt me
i can feel you melting my wax as
i come closer longingly
ignorant of my own doom
because i only realized
how little i knew you
so as i make a last attempt
my own wings tear apart
and i'm left
falling alone
Upon a midnight’s visage airy,
T’was a lake frozen by fairy,
…and weighing on mind’s tonnage bearing?
There for ice’ opaqueness winter’s seized,
…and arms encased in rime; the trees.

“Oh my,”

At dark of sky thought the eye of something troubling upon my mind?

And the frosty cloudy glass,
Take to it upon my axe,
…and the sting of shards will pass.
And will I eat at last.

Thusly, thrusting through the skull, wettened, weakened for the cold.

…and burden carry I with me,
So encased in rime is he,
Doth make of fishing’s night a chore,
Something that I do abhor!
…and stare I did into that sea,
…my frory breathe in imagery,
Dismay it did fluster me, when my eye captured by Sea,
...and in whirling thoughts could reflection see?
…and something else came back with me.

Pool with drops, light curves, dark rings; in vapid mind now find nothing...

T’was a misty sheen seen after showers?

A damp muggy place of reflecting hours,
Typhoid strange did make snowing;
The Asteraceae of my wilted flowers,
…and that Wren philosophically sings,
…and at lake a lone be -ing,

Appearing peering my soliloquy, I am therefore I into thee.
…and fixed calm stared back at me,

“What pray tell I Enquiry?”

Did something else look back at me?

...and glaring gaze thus did see, something I had hid from me,
…and gawking in my mind did ogle; a malevolence of thought once frugal...

A gaping, oscillating, pierced Abyss, forced farther back into consciousness...

Deeper in and further still,
Climb atop Old Arthur’s hill,
…and the winged Raven’s nearer, reflected on me in my mirror?
…and time did pass turning frozen dying, icy tears of sadness from my crying,

…so did silent Hume release, all the pain that’s troubling me; whilst frozen frame thus held in peace?

I fell forward and felt submerged,
Both characters, both now have merged.
And that creature which accompanied me?

Found a solace back in wine dark sea.
David Hume and Narcissus.
Diego Morales Jun 2017
To Selene:
Rare a night, her gentle grace is not seen;
Live long torches, shamed, by her beauty’s gleam!
The Queen of night, my heart, she reigns supreme.
Floating high in deep, black lakes of my dreams,
Softly she gazes down past thick and thin;
Distant is her love as we skin to skin;
Fooled, my fervent stretch is never within,
Her affection for me, I’ll never win.
My heart, her misfortune can only reap
This last choice—wound us both more than my weep!
For her sympathy, my eternal sleep!
Now like me, may her woe forever keep.
By day miss her and dream of her by noon
Forever, rest in heart, my dear honey, moon
The sad love between Endymion and Selene
Sets the stage for this sonnet like poem's scene
i have been burning my whole life.
encased in immaculate flames,
flying too close to the sun
on these fragile wax wings.

— an image of icarus
B Lee Aug 18
Broken flesh, infected in dissolute.
We tend to dispute our vision of the world seeing only black and white.
Our eyes decieve us blatantly concealing the harmonic view of a one race with different shades.
Philia filling my heart with philosophies of what love actually is.

Conforming to the emotions of our soul drifting towards carnality.
Seduced by the luring sweet scent that our desires tend to offer often leading to our spirits fatality.

A promise is yet to come. A sacrifice made for us with the Annointed One hanging under inri. We forget our mistakes are not irreversible and He gave us the chance to live with Him for eternity.

Agape. The love so beautiful its tangability pushes us towards Him even when our lifes are resisting. His love being the cure to my absence and His peace being the sustainter of my life...so who am i to barricade you from His real love.
This was written for someone special to me.
You-will-not-lie, -bed-chambers-long,
For I, -am-coming-to-get, YOU!
Clawed-through-the-dirt, -up-the-roots,
I am here, -come-to-get, YOU!
Followed-tree-roots, -that-sweet-smelling-Earth!
Here now! -It's time-to-forget-YOUTH.

* HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT!
HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT!
HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT!
Aha Ha Ha,  -The Goblins Attack!!
*

Grab-you-and-cover-those-murmuring-cries.
Drag-you-away, I-have-got, YOU!
Hungry-I, watering-mouth-glistening-eyes!
Bundle-of-joy, I-have-got, YOU!
Jump-down-tunnel-for-you-are-my-prize.
Look-at-you-now, my-sweet-tasty-meat-PIE!

*HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT!
HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT!
HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT!
Aha Ha Ha,  -The Goblins Attack!!
*






Addendum: The name appears to be an amalgamation etymologically of roots from Greek, Sanskrit and Sumerian. If, of course, you choose to translate it that way. I assume Plato to be an authority on the Ancient Greek's tendency to combines the words of multiple mythologies sharing similar characters linguistically. The purpose of the hyphenation is to suggest the tempo and speed of the rhyme's cadence.

'The Demon's of Earth'
Kalikantzaroi came up through the earth from **** climbing the Tree of Life's roots escaping for only three days and nights once each year when the Sun appeared to descend in the same place for said time. That period was Christmas and the children who were bad had a choice; leave a present(gifts) on their doorstep or be pulled down by the Goblins.
It is a Greek fairy tale.

The speed of the rhyme is as fast as you can say it with loud pauses for the Halloween stop phrase. Think of Legend with Tom Cruise goblins. It is a metered rhyme.
Lyn-Purcell  Jul 28
Gazebo
Lyn-Purcell Jul 28
My white gazebo
with thin caryatid columns
and wrought iron top
on a frieze carved with small leaves
The crown jewel of dew-kissed lands
My first Tanka poem! ^-^
Tanka is considered to be the oldest form of Japanese poems. What I love about them is that they are incredibly similar to haikus!
Haikus are 5 syllables - 7 syllables - 5 syllables while Tankas are  5 syllables - 7 syllables - 5 syllables  - 7 syllables - 7 syllables.
Tankas poems are written about nature, seasons, love, sadness,  other strong emotions and events.
Here's mine! Based on an gazebo I saw in a garden once and one I envision for my growing Kingdom. I'm a lover of Greek myth and ancient architecture so I just had fun with it.
Hope you like it!
Wishing everyone a good night!
Queen Lyn ***
Francie Lynch Jul 20
There was a funeral in St. Thomas d'Aquin,
And it wasn't in the Latin tongue,
Not English, Italian, not even Norse.
It was unctioned in French, of course.
But it may as well've been Greek.
I sat reserved in my seat,
As many a French rose up to speak.
But the incense was the same,
And the holy water sprayed on my glasses,
And I sat as people knelt
And blessed themselves,
And joined in on the refrain,
I knew it by its name: Le chemin. La verite. La vie.
It's a form of glossolalia,
And it's coming for us daily.
The mourners were onto something more,
Than words, gestures and litanies,
Something greater than any of these,
Yet the translation was lost on me.
The way, the truth, the life.
Glossolalia: Speaking in tongues
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