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Pasquino Sep 2
Hope is for farmers and the peasant poor;
for idiot poets, thinking of the green,
who can not see the logic web beneath.
See him tangling at the silver strings
taking note of how they quiver by design.
Except, there seems to be a lack of law
besides that of nature’s axiomatic hand–

If there is no dribbling fingers meddling
across the stage directions of Eden,
then there is no one to anoint me
with oil of Roman equinimity.

Stupid words
and stupid rhymes,
and stupid thoughts that keep the lines;
stupid fate that clocks the hour,
and stupid gods that rip my lyre.

I will roll up pages into a crown
of the only words I can stomach now.
My Platonic diadem will set free
this jester-king to keep his lonely guard.
O Divine Matchmaker, pay heed to my plea.
I guard an egress open ajar, crusted by thorns
I guard this world against the odium behind it
I guard this door, not in service, Matchmaker.
My hands, grip on the barbs of this doorway
To keep it ajar, for a glimpse of my remittal;
Of the extant light of my sole soul so brittle,
Anneliese, Blessed with a name so celestial,
Anneliese, Cursed with a burden so menial,
Placidly fostering the lives behind that door.
Anneliese, my only mud-soaked nightingale.
O Divine Matchmaker, answer my quandary.
Am I to serve this world as an eternal Atlas?
Am I to forsake my mud-soaked nightingale?
Is our union ignoble to you, O Matchmaker?
How many unanswered sunsets remain alas?
In distraught, a thousand misereres, I penned
In every breath, I pine to pen a thousand more.
If only I had a drop of ink left…
If only I had a drop of ink left…
This is for someone who has gripped my dreams. A world that shook my dreams. I hope you enjoyed this little work of mine.
Leone Lamp Jun 10
He pushed the weight of the world
To the top of the milky way
And he leaned, and he sighed
As the world rolled away

He put the globe on his shoulders
As he prepared to climb again
He shrugged and it shuddered
Spreading fear to little men

Igby! Igby, my boy!
I feel it coming down on me!
This pressure, this weight!
Why can I not be free?

Some weights are corporeal
Like the dumbbells at the barbell
Tabs overflowing, drinks and meals
These simple weights are easy to quell

Then there are the really heavy ones
The ones no eyes can see
The ones that drag us down to earth
That make it hard to flee

Our words and obligations
All form a lofty load
We are all carrying something
Along our personal roads

And our roads, they go forever

But, to where?

No one knows...
"You see, Igby... I feel this great pressure, coming down on me... It's just constantly coming down on me.. Crushing me..." -from the film "Igby Goes Down"

~06/10/2021
Andrew Rueter Mar 26
A colony of Atlas Stones
defends itself with heavy handedness
intercession relies on physicality
only power warrants movement
and only movement measures success
pushing what's in your way becomes a master key
to move through a locked down nation
a girdle is worn on America's underbelly
bloated by an autoimmune disease.

The Atlas Stones reproduce
tiny innocuous pellets that take an edgier form
filling up the feed trough until they're mature
enough to buzz like flies over the deceased
burrowing inside anything not made of concrete
turning their reluctant host into stone
a facsimile of a fairer, freer fossil
these stones infect everything with their heaviness
so we must remove the concrete and steel inside.
dorian green Oct 2020
let's say atlas' body is full of birds
and when he is crushed to death
they will escape
free and resplendent
let's say i am atlas and
you are the face in the mirror
let's say atlas is screaming and
crying and begging
but you are silent and
your face is unmoving
atlas' mother gets that
worried look on her face
and the part of atlas that
still loves himself
is trying to get him to
just put it all down for a second
let's say atlas is smoking
a cigarette
let's say atlas' rib cage
is cracking under the pressure
and it's worth pointing out
that no one will notice
atlas is gone
until the world starts falling down
around his body
Amanda Kay Burke Jul 2020
I was remembering when we were new
Love was an uncharted land
Our time was spent navigating
Mapping bodies with both hands

And tough times built us mountains
To ensure we would grow strong
Standing solid through the struggle
You were my rock when things went wrong

All the lovely sleepless nights
Spent texting thoughts and fears
Were the beginning of our voyage
We were unwitting pioneers

Although the departure was scary
I knew I had no choice but to start
Despite the danger and risk of failure
Instincts said 'follow your heart'

So we decided to set sail together
Though neither had yet steered a ship
Our commitment and passion kept us above waves
The duration of our trip

When the water turned rough and choppy
We almost began to sink
On the paper used to draw our course
Temporarily ran out of ink

It was you who saved me from drowning
When I foolishly jumped off the boat
Abandoned our vessel in fear of shipwreck
With one oar you made us float

Forgiveness forged a way to shore
Filled the pen with tears and blood
So we could continue cartography
From the place the picture smudged

We have come a great distance since that day
But still have a lot left to explore
Though the diagram of our hearts is complete
Life is still showing us more

Thick woods
Green fields
Dry deserts of sand
Our feelings guide us through it all
Our graph gets larger as time passes
And harder for you I fall

The route we travelled was complex
There were easier by far
But the difficult terrain molded us
Into the people we now are

Our direction was not influenced
But entirely our own
I'd rather our tumultuous journey
Than a simple one alone

Because you are my final destination
No matter where our path may lead
Location is irrelevant
When your arms are the only home I need

I never knew our relationship
Would be the atlas discovered
But I hope you realize I'm grateful
For each millimeter uncovered

I can't explain the overwhelming attraction
The magnetism connecting us two
But from the moment we met one thing was certain
My soul's compass pointed straight to you
This one was quite the challenge. Even had to bust out the old thesaurus.. hence the word "cartography" haha
Michael R Burch May 2020
Childless
by Michael R. Burch

How can she bear her grief?
Mightier than Atlas, she shoulders the weight
Of one fallen star.

Keywords/Tags: mother, mothers, motherhood, child, childless, death, grief, weight, burden, Atlas, epigram, epitaph, elegy, eulogy, lament
Bardo Apr 2020
Not just another dead word from a
   book
But a magical word...straight out of
   childhood
Gathered from a fascination with
   looking at maps and Atlas books
And globes of the World
All the different countries in all their
   different colors
With all their fantastic sounding
   names
All spread out in wonderful greens pinks and oranges, yellows reds and
   purples
And then... that wonderful blue sweep
   of the Pacific...the Pacific ocean.

Through the eyes of a young small
   child
The wondrous...sweet Blue Pacific
   ocean
So vast and so full of romance
With its mermaids, its whales and its
   dolphins
Coconuts and palm trees and
   treasured islands
Its flying fish and grizzled pirates,
Its blue skies forever smiling
   overhead
The surf rolling up onto its sun kissed
   beaches.

.....There long ago I glimpsed the lovely
   blue of her blouse
And the wonderful patterns on it
As she lifted me up and spun me
   around
Just like being up on the swing boats,
And she laughed with her laughing
   smiling face
And her laughing smiling eyes
And I laughed too, out loud and
   unashamed
This was how it should always be
And I didn't want it to end
Wanted it to go on forever,
It brought me a Bluey Bliss
And suddenly all this world it was a
   magic place.

She was like Life or Love itself
Wanting to embrace you and kiss you
And sweep you off your feet
Life, it held so much promise and
   beauty
So much wonder and mystery
Yea! all was magic in those Summer
   months
The coloured pictures in our comic
   books
The kicking football on the lovely
   green lawns,
The fluttering and flapping of the
   clothes on the clothes line
Were like the sails of a Great Ship...
Sweet dreams and sunbeams as we
   ran out to meet the tide.

And still she calls to me today, wild
   blue ocean
How I love... like that sweet feeling of
   blue
The sight of her on a globe or Atlas
   still
And that name like some ancient
   spell
It sends me up into the sky
Delights, makes me feel so peaceful
The sweet blue Pacific ocean
You can...can almost taste it.

Sweet intimations of a world that
   came before,
A world underneath...that still lies
   there...somewhere
Whispering like some sweet lost
   Atlantis
Forever calling you back, calling you
   back home.

I'm afraid I can't be more specific
About the wonderful, the beautiful
...The Blue Pacific.
Some words from childhood still have a magic about them. 'The Blue Pacific " still conjures up a lot of magic for me. The girl in the blouse were older girl cousins of mine who used come to us on summer holidays, they'd give you swings and chocolates and smother you in kisses. The 'swing boats' were in the amusement park, you'd get in with someone opposite you and you'd hold on for dear life as the 'boat' would swing back and forth up in the air.
agatha Apr 2020
no such thing as verbal when you just sit
next to me, shoulders burdened by the world
and that is my cue to be pliant as you sigh
and press yourself deeper into my being.

(your face buried in the crook of my neck
as i draw small circles on your arm,
funny how you look like a child
with a halo from the moonlight
kissing your crown)

and i apologize
i cannot make the stars and skies
be within your reach
or I, better than your early lovers.

but if you, so gently, lay your bones
where i could keep them until your soul
jumps right into you, ready to conquer once again,
then be your home I shall.

—2:06AM
songs i listened to while writing:
when you love someone - day6
keshi - atlas
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