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Tommy Randell Nov 2018
... the sound the Sun makes each evening
hitting the sea, the ground, the swamps, the forests,
and the sheer effort it must take
every morning, pulling itself up into the sky
through clouds, through oceans, through sandy deserts
up into the glassy blue by a straight force of will -
I mean, literally... wtaf..!?

... the crackling of the stars and galaxies on fire in the night
every night, the gazillions of blazing alchemical furnaces
smashing into each other, in turn and turn about,
forging a pyrotechnic big bang, again and again
in a re-enactment of creation just for our benefit down here -
so we might pause, and see, and understand
something at least... I mean, just look at that ****, Man !

... waking, working, breeding, and warring,
Humanity in all its self-important battle-screaming glory...
it is decibels of noise at every wavelength, arrogant and brash,
it is beauty and exuberance, it is cruelty and allegory,
all added to the Earth's biogenesis, its molten tumult
and the conspicuous creation of Life in its continuance...
and these, my single thoughts, a brief moment of prickling doubt...
The title, of course, references Nicolaus Copernicus, a Renaissance-era mathematician and astronomer who formulated a model of the universe that placed the Sun rather than the Earth at the center of the universe.

Aristarchus of Samos, also formulated such a model ... almost 2 Thousand years earlier BUT... for the purposes of 21st Century poetry, Copernicus sounds better I think.
I am alone
There is no one here
Beside me
None to side

I walk alone
With longer strides
Defying pain

I rest alone
Aware of dreams
Giving delight
ohellobeautiful Jun 2018
i still hunger
for the wonder
in your eyes

but i want to be
the one who feeds
the love to me
this time
Jesse stillwater Jun 2018
Time is fleeting
as the spring river runoff
that gushes out to sea

A heart trickles out
a moment,
minute by minute,
in a timeless ink drop;
unmeasurable expanse
     immured in spilled ink ―
   manifest in the lexicon of poetry

For only purged words
cannot quench this thirst
that is loneliness;
it's a hunger that gnaws
like an unsatisfiable ache ―
a starving emptiness
all hearts
do one day taste

Left in the sight
of doubt
and eyes that fail
to believe what they see
lain fallow in the silent

Lost in a lingering void
unburied all around,
bespoken out loud
alone in plain sight
a feigned understanding;
reticent letters shape
reluctant words
to hold forth
enunciated breathe

The only words
that still echo unstilted ―
uttered  words
indelibly felt
from lips once sweet
as daybreak dew
    upon musing tongue ―
tasting the only
voiceless truth
that ever broke my heart

a vanishing wave
that moved an ocean
   deeply ...

Jesse Stillwater ... 06 6 2018
Notes:   unstilted:  Adj. - flowing naturally and continuously

Thank you for listening to my 2 cents ...
Tommy Randell Jan 2018
calm in the storm today
bush twigs ticking on the window
echo my tongue clicking
syncopate the keyboard

no clear sound from outside
though I see the trees
strutting their stuff in the wind
next door's FOR SALE sign
dancing the Beguine

two candles in my hearth
making little whisper noises
dancing the wax pools
like tamed will-o-the-wisps

the smell of bread
cooling on the rack
caraway & rye
come back Kerouac
bring me some JD!

surf in my ears
an almost white noise
like that from a shell
the silence making it clear
it rules
Michalis Jul 2017
Hear my roar,
******* bitterness,
feel my urges of temptation!

Oh, thou pain of acceptance,
Oh, thou cutting knifes of belonging..
So much for inclusion,
the most destroying illusion!

Have I been fearful?..
I certainly have!
Have I been pretending?..
To the uttermost!

yet, something disturbs me now..

My heart is torn apart,
a seed to arise,
an original to despise.

Growing through the mud here,
pass the lonely towers,
above the cities of void,
unto the edge of the universe,
and further into emptiness!

Only He can accept Me,
Only He can relate to Me,
and as faithful as the morning sun,
I’ll lay my life upon His Alter of Mercy.

Hear my roar,
******* bitterness,
but behold!
I shall drink His water of redemption!
A poem I wrote 4 years ago as I began walking in earnest towards my own freedom and self-actualization!
vea vents Sep 2016
In this perfect silence of a home

I can hear the voice within

Protected from the murmur of the outside

I can hear the voice within

In this perfect silence of a home

Safe from tormented winds

She whispers…

I am I, and they are they

In this perfect silence of a home

I can finally speak, hear, listen…


Safe from strangers…

I am I, and they are they

I am I...

They are they...

In this perfect silence of a home

A stillness reverberates from within

Yes, I Am I, now left alone

Such a perfect silence to call home
Sean Hunt May 2016
Our aloneness we deny
And defy

We’re as alone
As a cloud
In a crowded

We’re alone when we’re high
And alone when we cry

We're alone when we're  born,
And alone when we die,

And alone in between
Our hello and goodbye

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