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Gossamer  Jan 2014
What You Are
Gossamer Jan 2014
I

I wish I’d seen it sooner, you are parallax,
Your lipstick fooled me for so long, you catalyst,
You trapped me in my own heart, you are Calypso,
I kept my fears hidden behind a mental citadel,
You tore it down, your touch was selcouth,
But only to me, you were too beautiful, you are kalopsia

II
Even your fingernails lied, you are kalopsia,
I shouldn’t come down from cloud nine, this parallax
Should’ve been more apparent, not selcouth,
Not how I thought it, you are TNT, a catalyst,
You demolish with your winks, even my citadel
Fell before you, but you still kept me in, you are Calypso.

III
Tell everyone you’re real, you are Calypso,
You are not a myth, you are simply kalopsia,
A breathtaking lie, you didn’t need a citadel,
Nobody could break you anyway, you are parallax,
But you’re evil at all angles, you are the catalyst
Of all things lonely, this no longer feels selcouth.

IV
You are kalopsia, the gorgeous catalyst.
You are parallax, wrecking citadels.
You are not selcouth; you are Calypso.
Renisha Rana  Feb 2015
KALOPSIA
Renisha Rana Feb 2015
''the things i desire will destroy me in the end''
My kalopsia has led to my collapse
i don't think i have been awake, anyway
i, i always glorified you,
maybe in my dreams
maybe in my brain
i always did
i made you my forever
i tried to make me your forever
but
i Failed
miserably, shaking my hands
standing alone in that little corner
slowly, quietly, my anguish settled
but now again i want to drown into you
but now again you are holding a gun to my head
the knife logged into my throat
i shattered
i could see every fleck of me,
broken and shattered there
i start ice breathing
but again
tell me that you love me
LIE LIE LIE LIE LIE
like an open book, an open wound
i kept ripping all the pages, all the wounds
you make me alive
but your words are like
those shards of glass at my feet
From the awful confusion
of love notes carved into my skin
you have led me down
the light at the tunnel's end
there is not much
after i fall
i scream till i turned my heart into a black- blue acid
i broke my ten bones,again
i wished you left me earlier
you were the air that hitched in my throat
but you can't see anything now
My claustrophobic suicide
I had your name on my gravestone
you came, you sat, you kept the flowers
and went away.
****, you never came back
i know you never will
kalopsia  May 2014
Kalopsia
kalopsia May 2014
Your eyes are the ocean
Your lashes are the waves
It’s a privilege to drown in them
And even live just for a day

Your collarbones are the trails
My lips want to wander forever
Your jaw line is the road
I would walk forever

Your lithe being
Is enough to take my breath away
Your pure heart
Is enough to let me stay

You are ethereal
You are otherworldly
Your beauty is abyssopelagic
You are perfect

My heart flutters when I see your previews
(I became an agastopian because of you)
And every after sunset and sunrise
I still fall in love with you
what do you think? ;_____; actually i made this for tao <3 a member of a boyband. i really love him, he's so special in my life. <3
Oculi  Nov 2017
Kalopsia
Oculi Nov 2017
Wonder
True wonder
I see myself over yonder
The future is a promise that cannot be broken
My soul is a machine that cannot be broken
My love of life is an entity that cannot be broken
True wonder rarely approacheth
But it doth give me a sense of accomplishment
I'm finally happy
And I finally
Slowly sink
Into pink
i wish to touch the bits of you that endure my dirt.
i wish
more than ever the shape of your face in the curve of my long and twisted fingers.
there's something about it that make my hands
okay to look at again.
like they may have a found a fitful purpose, caressing the demon mouth
that kisses my angel teeth,
residing underneath
my loved lips
that send trips
to your words.
they encase your bright
eyes
and devour the confidence left in them.
but what i meant
to say was, i see your bright
eyes
showing fight to the fence
that you build so high.
i can see the lies shine
like a light was tied ,
just for me to breach them.
just so i could teach them,
you are one to beat them.
even though its you who seeds them.

emitting the aroma of tainted goodness and its all
okay
because of the eutony of this all.
these words can break my fall.
if i make the call,
and summon the space,
my soul
will come and take the place
of the weak face
i can no longer
sonder,
anymore in the background of your filled up recognitions.

there's
no
space
for
my
sad
face.
there's
no
place
for
my
heart
ache.

sent into solivagance.

this is a dark red redamancy,
one of a curse.
the birth
of our breakage
started at the first
touch of a sacred
unto a scarred soul.
and she cried
finding nothing but an empty black hole,
in return. forever churned
in a lustuous magnetism.
a
love prison.

its something that buries itself
beneath all the logic in my heart,
creeping from underneath my sins.
its some kind of wonder,
beckoning the birth rights
of every death in my future.

[ it's some kind of mutual case of kalopsia. ]

Of all the questions that beg my being,
why do my fingers still only look straight
when they're resting on your rigid face ?
mizpah::the.emotional.bond.between.people.who.are.separated.either.physically.or.by.death.
eutony::the.pleasantness.of.the.sound.of.a.word.
solivigant::wandering.alone.
redamancy::loving.the.one.who.loves.you.a.love.returned.in.full.circle.
kalopsia::the.delusion.of.things.being.more.beautiful.than.they.really.are.
TheDenouement  Aug 2014
Kalopsia
TheDenouement Aug 2014
their ecstasy,
sulty in frigid airs,
whose vanity is ephemeral,
and worn ragged is,
the teenage scent of hormones and chemicals.
Ash Young  Apr 2018
Kalopsia
Ash Young Apr 2018
The hardest part of all this
is that when i stand on the edge of my roof and

breathe.

i look at the stars and they make me wonder what this would do
to you

inhale
1..2..3..4..5
hold
1..2..3..4..5..6..7..8
exhale
1..2..3..4..5

­the chemicals in my brain burn holes into my lungs
you put your hand on my shoulder and whisper for me to come inside
palladia  Sep 2013
à corps perdu
palladia Sep 2013
lead me far from the mainland:
i have need no more for their custom.
gore these umbilical cords i share:
i no longer need their worldview,
i have forsaken them
they have, me

writhing akrobatics!
i whip my flagellated tail
and prance defiantly
into the danger zone,
where the crispness leeches
onto my body
and i shudder in view
of the sincerity i have
forsaken for this

my life has terribly been choked,
ab ovo
in principio,
nothing, was i, but a mere ghost.
caged-in oneirataxia:
i cannot distinguish
( i was a saddened victim of kalopsia )
these prefab worlds:
one, real
the other, an illusion

my life has captured me and
coerced me - prisoner
with blackened post 'round my neck
wrenching exposure
and blemish me.
but there,
there is a light
past corridor's end
and i see it, theoretically,
finally
and i remember the one good thing
to come from Pandora's folly:
hope.

i no longer need their choices
which have guided me past with harm
i can fight alone without their armor
which never did fit right, to start
rummaging for the undertow
in this ocean
to take me far from home
where i am embraced
by my prime
their volition:
no more
À Corps Perdu, from the French, explicitly translates to ‘with lost body’; idiomatically, it defines as “desperately” and begs meaning from the phrase “to throw one’s heart and soul into something”. I have considered À Corps Perdu as a rueful plea for something more — something unhoped or unlooked for — anything challenging and new to get rid of the old… because you’ve been enlightened and have realised: their world has nothing for you. You must find another — by yourself, for yourself.

oneirataxia: the incapability to distinguish dreamstate from real life.

this poem was inspired by D. Burke Mahoney's "Sleep Inertia":
dburkemahoney.com/sleep-inertia-video
Laura Jones Jan 2017
Fallacious masks embodied with despondency and pessimism;
Darkened notions of subconciousness painted with an agglomeration of colours and shapes.
We are too naïve.
A plinth of porcelain holds an emptiness full of blasphemy,
As if it were an ornament of the prodigal son.
Our insides turn from white to crimson,
And the outside world maintains its tarnished brass colour,
Counterfeiting gold.
We are all covered in the inordinate dirt of our sins.
Wash your body well and let the blue lead you home.
You must see
Through roses
Pressed
As thin as lips
Hiding such
Sharp teeth
Kalopsia (noun.) a condition, state or delusion in which things appear more beautiful than they really are.
fray narte Jun 2021
i'll always love you like you were the fullest sunlight laid gently on the dark bruises of december. my crystalline hands are bound to start wildfires in your name. and finally when the world burns down, i'll mark your spine with these lips made of sunburnt flowers. in the ruins of it all, you still have all my misguided kisses — all my unbidden words. i'll always love you, until azaleas grow on the softest spots, in the mundane collision of our bodies. i'll always love you, until my ribs fall apart to your autumn eyes, like a babylonian temple that has seen the miracles of god. i'll always love you — in state of both madness and kalopsia. in the explosion and rebirth of the stars. i'll always love you — this is my bareness in the most prosaical state. this is my constant, darling — this is my truth.
arsonpoet  Oct 2021
Pages
arsonpoet Oct 2021
a pulse of kalopsia, tears out existence.
the light is off, the night is silent.
the ravens don't sing,
because the moon is on her period.
strings and strings of night,
are angles across the starry sky,
i haven't found oxygen in me,
but i have found life in my soul.
the noise is silence, and it wakes up the mountains,
the stream is flowing through corners,
the crickets have been silent, because the night is draped in colours that they couldn't see.
maybe they realize that time is galloping across the beards of silence set on the horizon.
the heart has become a fugitive,
running away in endless arrays of despair,
when all it can do is hide on barren fields.
there is no beauty to dismantled feelings,
not in a million years of wind's change.
but there is a strange isotonic throbbing,
to the chest, past the bones.
everytime the night sheds her tears, and the moon watches closely.
facile in face of words that do not exist.
scarce in face of pages that'll never be written.
wrote this on midnight x

— The End —