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“Forgetting is the purest form of clarity.”
--Someone

And so ended the unquiet dreams
awkward reunions with the dead
wandering the halls of sleep,
the bodies of others’ loss.
Ghosts gone from the gazebo.
No laments in the lowering sun.

She woke. Blue sky blinked into her eyes.  
The room’s climate began to clear.
The familiar path from bed to door
curled into a stone staircase.
When did that get there?  
There was writing on the wall
near a waterfall.

She climbed. She soared.  
She leant a myth to god.
She stood in a garden with five black stones.
She foretold an eclipse,
Burned the witch of winter,
Stepped in the same river twice.

The moon shrank into the alarm clock’s face.
Her breath brewed clouds above her forehead.
She sat aloof in the empty air,
Alone in the immense morning,
At rest in clear, cold perfection.
Your nature is rather expressive
It creates dialogue in chirping happiness
Of birds climbing trees
But seemingly, doesn't lie in the height of apricot trees
In fallacies of piety
Like climbing from the apple flowers
To the suckling bees nestling in the flavor
Of the honey that comes from the *******
Of your breast that taste like apple and honey
As the petals of an aeolian wasp
Follow the areolar cusp
Hungering was part of the motivation
It was primal instinct of the ecstatic elation
So what about the leaves that turn brown
A Gilded crescent moon
Brings tawny owls in the night
Who can tread upon
But still see them leaves
Auric alchemy covering your ******
Like I can navigate your entire patina
Bodied with my left hand
Cupping your breast with the righteousness of writing
Now I'm ambidextrous
Teasing you with the tension
Of impressionism in my sensual seminar
Promising to pluck those flowers
I keep them in colored waters
So there's coruscating change
Within the cleft of the *******
Somehow I've found that to be trenchant theft
Of your virginity
There's more bliss in these pecks of mine
Except like woodpeckers pecking the bare-backs of fir trees
Inasmuch the resin falling
Keeping the Apollinaire's oil lamp of sin
Much alive
Earnestly timed
And the poetry reasonably alive
Romantically
A thought of fire in a rustic cage
Like Pandora's box
In the Coming of Age, mysteriously
There's more bliss in these perks of mine
Unlike aphrodisiacs in the sea
The Cupid's bow keeps
The aquiline philtrums intertwined
In pilfering perfection
Even in the decorum of our moaning
In the face of the coitus and chorus
The suspicion of Venus
Doesn't keep out the lust
Of the allegory
That included symbolic Folly
But Folly was just a face
Realizing the purpose of her
Was just exploring pleasure
Emanating with your caressing climate
To leave no leaves unturned
When it came to my gruntled grunts
Then came the ******
Unoccluded and unencumbered
Of every language, pulchritude placid
"Love flows away
As life itself is slow"-Le Pont Mirabeau, Guillaume Apollinaire
Blade Maiden Oct 2018

Traveling through an ocean-like space
I'm breaking like the waves
I arrive and crush on your shores
crawl into each and every pore
I dissolve into foam
which follows a storm
The storm becomes me
I rage over rock and tree
Devastation as I take
make room for renewal and remake

I brush away home and town
these empty houses, I tear them down
no place left to hide for the hunger
shall these demons come so I can pull them under
Make them eat the dirt they keep feeding to you and me
I will make them swallow and suffocate their glee
And when darkness comes I will be thunder
lightening the sky and breaking it asunder
And through this opening you will descend
everything that has been broken you can mend

Don't despair, love, take pride in me
The force of nature you clearly see
Believe in this inner symbiosis
Create your own apotheosis
Everything is well
Even in these dark times in which you dwell
This nature will never leave you
nor will it ever betray what is true
See through the eyes of your keeper
even when you think you can't sink deeper

What you are you shall hold dear
and walk this blackness without fear
Whatever wounds you carry away from this tourney
it's worth every step of this journey
Fight until your blood runs dry
pick up your worth again and again until you die
no need to run, no need to hurry
believe in your nature and don't worry
Sleep will come eventually
until then rage against life's brevity

You stand unbowed and unbroken by your ache
and leave life in your wake
Johan Nel May 2018
Drive down the side of a mountaintop,
with the roof down and the wind in your hair.
To easy jovial music.

There's a sea breeze in the mix,
and you've got it made in a reality that gets as close to dreaming,
as humanly possible.
If you are ever-present in that kind of moment,
you are at the apotheosis of your very own happiness.
© Johan Nel 2018.05.27
He is
My Azure Dreambird,
(The Sovereign of Songbirds)
That soars upon
Skies of Resonance.
His sapphire wings
Weightless by valor,
Hallowed every doubt
That
Cursed my shadow
Until credence reigned.

He is
The Musicality of my Soul,
That I climbed as
A stairway
Into
Gates of Aether
Upon
Porcelain keys
Of an impearled
Grand Piano.

His sound emittance
Ascended in frequency until
Pitch became subliminal
For height
ceased to be
Height,
And depth,
Ceased to be
Depth,
It was
Ineffable harmony
And resolution became effortless
With
The touch of his hand.

He is
The Wings of the Dawn,
A Sweeping Rapture
That raised
Me
Beyond the stratosphere
Until graced by
Untarnished embrace
Of the Baptistery of the Sun.

I burst
From Light’s Intemerate Womb,
Renewed and
Gazed upon Terraqueous Gaia
Then for once,
(Yes, for all eternity)
Succumbed to
Faith in the Transcendence
Of his tender affections.

Woe was existence
Before His lightwaves radiated
Within my heart,
For when I purged my pulse
Of that quaking rhythm
And
Hollow cries
Upon his ears,
He stood moved
And remained
Doughty in his devotion
To me.

In that moment
I fathomed his soul
Glistened
O, for he had not forsook me.

I bear a pilgrimage.
One sought to be
Heard,
Seen,
Felt,
Breathed,
And
Divined
By my
Once
Somnolent spirit
Been
Roused
By the incendiary thew of
His ardor.

My revenant soul
Hath emerged from
The Chrysalis of Time as
The Apotheosis of Astral Flame
(A Reverberation of the Cosmo-Plexus of Love)
That since
The Days of Time Immemorial
Guided by the
Whisper of the stars,
I now cleave
To that celestial susurrus:

To the solace buried beneath
The Soil of Afflicition
(For anguish was all I knew)
In repose
Yet yearning to be
Resurrected
In The Dream of Acquisition,
To for eternity behold
The timeless fervor
That doth layeth
In His heart
Hey guys!! So basically this poem in it's quintessence is an incarnation. Of what? The transcendence I have acquired by means of the love of another (For whom I carry romantic sentiments towards). The inspiration was the moment in which he placed his hand upon my shoulder. His touch etherealized me. I felt as though I became a new creation forged of crystal and yet as light as air. I saw life with mystical eyes that were fascinated with things that had been of no consequence before. The stars became more resplendent, the wind became a benevolent caress, each breath was rejuvenating, and so on.
      
So basically, as cliche' as it sounds... *Braces himself, coughing to clear his throat and announcing his cliche' with a British accent* I have been transformed from a life of black and white, to one of manifold colors by the thew of love! *cringes in pain lollllllll* I hope you guys enjoy. I also hope that somehow, this piece inspires you to forge a creative diamond from your own experiences (as well as display the valor to adorn the world with your diamonds). Thank you all so much for your support! God bless!
Shreekant Dhuri Apr 2016
Death strode tall
On his midnight stroll
Ticking names off
His unfurled scroll.

Met a man pious
Deep in solemn prayer
Calling for Salvation
To the Father up there.

Met a woman old
Singing chants and hymns
Pleading for Moksha
From this life of sin.

Met a boy kneeling
His head bowed low.
Praying for Jannah,
If He should grant him so.

Death reaped them all
Torn from blood and bone.
Took away their souls
And kept them for his own.

Met the small girl,
Her gaze reaching his.
"Any last prayer?" asked Death.
"Before I plant my kiss."

"Just tell me if the lad
Mine eyes, now his,"
"Will there be," She asked,
"A smile on his lips?"

Death turned away,
From the girl and her soul.
For her name had faded,
From the scribblings on his scroll.
The poem is a message to promote ***** donation.
Weariness Feb 2014
I am a seeker of the grail of gnosis,
I have found it deep within, and raised it high above the void.
I am an initiate of Apotheosis,
my light shall emanate without, scorching the world with excellence.

I have opened up the gates of hell,
I have faced the wrath of Choronzon, and kept my mind whole.
I fear not the tolling of the bell,
for my destiny is clear, to seize the immortality of the soul.


© Copyright Mr. James P Machen 26/08/2014 for viewing only. May not be replicated.
© Copyright Mr. James P Machen 26/08/2014 for viewing only. May not be replicated.

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