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VC Jul 2018
In this day and age if you are different

If you have longer hair and brighter eyes

If you have learned the math of the universe and understand the way nature works

If you have mastered ways to make life bend to your will

If you know how to listen to the vibration of the earth and march to the beat of a different drummer

You are called a witch

And you are judged and persecuted not physically but emotionally

Women hate you and men fear you

Had you been alive centuries ago you would have been burned at the stake

The memory, the anger lives on

But there is no prouder legacy
A Simillacrum May 2018
Would you let me give you an offering?
I will stand at the feet of your shrine
Smile shy and present my open palms
I will with hand silk & lip
Push open the heavy doors
Which keep my heart from yours
For both your touching knees, I'll wait
Would you let me give you an offering?
I'd love to take a deep breath in tune with you
Then slowly exhale as we embrace
Write giggles and wild squirms into the silence
Explicit words won't tell the tale
Echoes of laughter, dark lines of sweat
Our sweet moistures mixed in bed
Alchemy unmasked
Eye to eye, forehead to forehead
Moonbeam May 2018
This time I'm going to do the hermit thing right
Inner-work and self-love from morning to night  
Awareness of all my woes and insecurities  
Connecting with universal flows and obscurities
Going into my depths, no human interference
Focusing on my soul, not my appearance
Transmuting all my deep pain into sweet pleasure
While turning these dark coals into beautiful treasure
This focus and expansion is serving me well
Returning to my inner heaven, away from this hell
If you ask me how I am I just might tell you. If I feel like it.
I might tell you that there are weeds growing willful up
around the old shed, that the creepers are out of control,
that there are multi-coloured ladybirds ******* at old wounds
in the hollow of my heart, that acres of wild white daisies
are mad with Spring in the fields but that soon they shall wilt
because that's how it goes. If you ask I may tell you how
I drew blood from a prickly rose I couldn't stop myself from
touching and that it still hurts years later,
that some short-sighted clever creatures devoured too much
honey from the beehive in my back yard and died there fat and over-fed.
If you ask me how I feel I might say 'fine' but don't believe a word.
Fine!!
If you ask me how I am, and you really want to know, then search
my eyes for the spark that links souls and breathes new life
into old secret hiding places we didn't know existed, down there
in the gully where maggots love to linger and make silage, where
tombs are built to keep dead things buried and comatose.
if you ask me and I'm not saying you will, then be prepared to
drop down to where lifeless things may want to come back to life.
If you ask me who I am, I may say that I'm a cosmic river of luminous
liquid that spares no gellyfish from their own refection, where
dolphins stare speechless into the lost Polynesian deep blue of rusting
wreckage. If you ask me how I am, be sure you really want to know cause if
I'm in the mood, it may be a long trip and you may need a toothbrush.
So if you ask me and you probably won't now, but if you do we shall
sip wine of a kind for drunken lovers lush with the alchemy of bitter
grapes aged and morphed into the sweet drippings of reckless
angels ready to yank off another lid.
The attempt to go beyond 'fine' and the typical responses when we don't really feel or want to really open up the whole can of worms or whatever..
Michael Mar 2018
I am a weaver of words. Make no mistake I said words, not wisdom.
I am a coniessuer of simulies, and synonyms.
My shelves are lined with glass beakers and tubes containing syllables, but I am no alchemist.

Make no mistake, though, I am a poet.
I will reach for the sharpest edges of your mind, and whether I come home with lifelong scars or your lifelong adoration - I don't mind.

No, I don't behave like someone with something to say, I don't pry. I just sit and sift my words through mesh until only the most complex remain.
Because cliche is a killer, it won't impress.

How many others are out there right now with calices between their thumbs and index fingers speaking the same words I am?

If you feel like you have already heard this before, it's because you haven't. At the end of a stanza or the conclusion of a verse all of the colors start to fade. These pictures I have painted in your thoughts are temporary. Make no mistake, though, the feelings are endless.
Merry Mar 2018
I take the corner too sharp
In my silver chariot
A canopy of stars
Above my head:
Illusory stardom
Conquests
Illusions of what’s to come
My head spins,
But I’m in control

High voltage chaotic energy
A live wire reverie,
Riding cool,
Living like a fool,
Freedom tastes sweet
Even in the salty heat

Like a lion in the light
I’m fierce and ready to fight
Around and around we go
An aggressive game of tick-tack-toe
Hit ‘em high and hit ‘em low
Willpower, square,
Is all that’s left,
As I steer right
But it’s all wrong
Spiritual transformation
I alchemise the feelings

They say if you can crawl
Then you can walk
And if you can walk
Then you can run
And if you can run
Then you can go
But I can’t.

I’m losing all control
Reckless determination
Causes the assertion
Of loss
Causes the termination
Of victory
Danial John Feb 2018
The Luna moth is “born” without a mouth.
Because of this, the moth lives only one week.
It’s sole purpose is to find a mate and reproduce.
Now, some see this as a beautiful love story.
A heroic, single minded search for “the one.”
Yet, couldn’t it more accurately be described as a frantic race against death fought by a starving creature unable to vocalize, to speak, or to eat only to fulfill some poorly understood animalistic urge?
Where is the beauty in that?
Is it still there?
... yes...
Truly this insignificant creature can then be a representation of the live of countless lost souls who cannot seem to speak or nourish themselves.
For aren’t all souls, in some way, malnourished mutes?
Simply wishing to connect,
To share,
To be whole.
And, just as with souls, do all Luna moths succeed in their mission?
No.
But the beauty is not in success, it’s in the often futile fight against insurmountable odds,
Fatally flawed design,
And the grim reaper itself... time.
So take flight and soar.
Continue the futile battle.
Make greatness out of the struggle.
And maybe, just possibly
With enough persistence,
Skill,
And luck
You could be one of the few that reach their goals.
However, chances are you are like me...
One of the countless souls that failed.
Continue we shall, for if we don’t, our lives are utterly meaningless.
For even if we never reach the summit, we still try.
We become inspiration for the others, some of which succeed.
So in a very real way, we can achieve some level of glory through them.
We are the foundation.
The ground on which the broad shouldered giants stand.
The ground that nourishes the the flora which feeds the grubs whom become Luna moths.
Who will take our place and ... occasionally...
succeed.
Happier than I seem
Danial John Feb 2018
Oh man, I can't stop seeing bad omens.
Flowing, from the empty spaces... pouring.
The blood in my ears is roaring.
I must make clear these notions.

The world whispers and murmurs.
I must be put on earth for a purpose.
Blessing and curses.
Still, I feel worthless.

I listen with the ear of my heart.
See with the eyes of my soul.
Getting closer, yet falling apart.
Will not stop until I achieve my goal.

Yet still I listen, transition and complete my mission.
Fate leads me into the ultimate competition.
Wrists twisted, wits missing, the clock ticking.
You must understand that if I don't try I'll never know what I'm missing.

And for the 5th quatrain, I plead the 5th.
My thoughts cannot be shared directly.
Read the omens with me and see pain's lithe.
Please bear with, I hope you don't wish you'd never met me.
Is all around you, just look and listen.
Sally Tsoutas Nov 2017
It's that time again.
When rangey youth
in wounded utes
are sent to pick up tin.
Eyes peeled for
shiny mangled bikes
and steely bits
of thing.
I want to see
the crucible
they put it in.
Behold the pearly
metallurgic
mess unfold.
A gleaming steaming
mass of brassy storm
So cooked
and cooled
and coaxed
and clicked
and jewelled
into mercurial form
Then moulded
bright and fine
once more.
This is the
Copper loop
of life we mine.
Eternal
Circulated
Alchemy
Divine.
Council cleanup in my neighbourhood this week. A scavenger's delight.
Crimsyy Oct 2017
let everyone you know and love
become a metaphor;
strip them of their normality
find the stars in his eyes
and drown in them
you must believe that everyone is a canvas, including you
so choose your decorations wisely from the palette of emotions your heart carries

when you find him
love him until you burst
and when you burst
burst until you can
no longer apologize because
maybe his hands weren't fit
to handle a love like yours

when you find him
love him until you burst and
when you burst
burst until you
don't need to apologize
because maybe his hands
are willing to handle
a soul like yours
he won't be perfect
and he will be coated
in mistakes and forgetfulness
but you'll love him anyway

look at all the stereotypes
and see what extraordinary
pieces of **** they are
look at all the people
and see that we are all
books waiting to be
understood by avid readers

feel intensely, feel sad,
feel happy
think these feelings are only
unique to you
and that only you have cracked
like a diamond under pressure

come up with artistic ways
to say no when hands begin to roam

when his tongue
crashes with yours
and when his mouth collides
with your starving lips,
make sure you stir well;
your lips feel more alive when
they're peeling and numb
from a lover
trust me

when you find yourself
become a metaphor
find the stars in your eyes
and drown in them
know that you are a canvas
and that the palette of thoughts in your mind is not as dull as you thought it would be
believe me, you are the most extraordinary being;
a bona fide alchemist.

- Crimsyy

a/n: thankyou for reading! Please comment your thoughts on this poem  (:
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