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After all
there was so much to hate
and no one cared
for what there was to love
the least of whom
was himself
and that
was why he drove the cleaver
into the wood
right between his fingers
between yes or no
between bedlam and smug satisfaction
knowing he'd missed the mark
on a whim
should he have succeeded
he would go on a broken man
not because of the mutilated hand
but because of what he would do to himself
should he have abandoned himself
his tattered body
paled in reflection
to the cavity in his soul
where worlds of dreams had gone to die
and he had pleasure in their deaths
how he marched them on
the dreams
pied piper was he
to the vast
sums of fantasy and waylaid plans
beneath him
his scales
his snout and snarl
his wings
a dragon
on a hoard of promised treasures
sure to be expelled
due the ravaging of time
due delinquency and self-wrought disaster
he was an effigy
to the great power of humanity
fallen in grace
subdued by cancerous desires
and poisoned
by fool's love
a rusted bounty
of sham hearts
open and willing
willing his demise
but he loved it
the attention
the destruction
for as it were poured upon him
in him
through him
about him
a pool of toxic ichor
his price for the abuse
was the sacking of the world
the decay of humanity
as they tortured him
they wounded themselves
ever deeper
salt in his wound
was salt in their eyes
rot fed to his belly
became rot in their souls
but they could not stop
they daren't
for they feared his power
they feared
his penchant to rule them
to lay waste to their weakness
mold them
guide them
command them
they feared losing
all their closely coveted lies
that dangled
like snow sequins
about their shivering
cadaverous bodies
wanting for respite
from the cold
of their inimical
and unforgiving
from which
is a closed book
empty save for a warning
that what goes up
will surely fall
but what goes down
into the depths of hell
truth itself
where the ****** break upon their wickedness
shall salvation ring in the deep
and awake the beast
who rises to mount the peaks
another dragon
born for battle
destined to be pillaged of its cantankerous wealth
it gorged on humanity
letting them wear sequins on their bodies
rather than glory
verve for life
satisfaction in the passing of time
and joy in knowing the coming of the inevitable
they feared to be free
for the cage
they thought
fueled their spirits
but it was a charlatan's ruse
smoke and mirrors
hiding the puppet strings
clouding their judgment
obscuring the ability
to see that He was their shepherd
the pastor of their flock
and with him
all doors would be opened
all minds would be free
all bodies would be whole
and no blood
would be spilt
and on into the waking
of eternity...
This poem hits so deep for me.
It came out of some incredibly deep subconscious musing.
The night after I wrote this was incredible. I had an intense and revelatory lucid dream that left me spellbound, empowered, and I was left not wanting of anything for a full week, which is unlike me as I'm usually thirsting for all kinds of experiences that I can't or wont have.

Anyway, I hope this poem brought something to you.
I hope it awakened something in you, as it did for me.


Innermost thoughtful verbosity, desire lost philosophy,  misery phase cloudy darken days eternity pollinate sorrows validate emotional tormented hours. Time over lived Soul never paid ****** tolls. Antisyzygies, mystery, history never sold  failures unfold.  Always talked of ups and downs, the round and rounds, Voices tuned In and out of sound. Those who you love are those you keep around. Bound to hit the ground **** bound to have no out of bounds. Please pronounce specific reasons and keyed seasons why rhinoceros differ from clowns. Who your eternally meant to be, is your desire gracefully. Patiently speaking are those who embrace harden or weaken? Are those who loss haste starving or feeding, harvesting or greeting? you choose to pardon your heathens and I choose to marching and teaching. County blues never told proudfull news. Sometimes what she got to do, is what she's got to do. I tip my hats off to all of you. No *** for tat when played a fool. If you can't be used then  your useless, so it looks like we're all the tools. Mustn't be a difficult one to use, So bounce the ball, hop the wall and come back to rule And if you listen to my decisions, you'll learn to speak into your own existence. Your the maker of your dreamful visions or the maker of the bars which old your prison. How's that for tonight's lesson? Doesn't that sounds like a blessing? Indeed so good night you-all and keep on guessing. Because I plant the seed and it's not one of greed, but of needs not to be questioned. Understood essence.
Dave Robertson Mar 2022
The hedgerow pulse
seems quickened as the dipped flit
of three blue **** from here to there
declares that something is coming

Maybe too early to call spring,
the jackdaw on a slack wire
is still willing to give energy to balance,
as his eye sees good things

And the fettered earth begins to flex
as something elliptical
returns to tickle us
Strying Oct 2021
the emptiness I feel at night
doesn't go away
in the morning.
Mark Toney May 2021
He awakens to a day of hope
after happy day of birth
attended by smiling parents proud
who know his priceless worth

He awakens to a day of hope
lying restless on his ***
after one move that surprises him
he ends up on his tum

He awakens to a day of hope
on his tum going nowhere fast
flailing arms and legs eventually push
now he's on all fours at last

He awakens to a day of hope
wobbling steadily as best he can
one hand forward followed by knee
then other knee and hand

He awakens to a day of hope
rising quickly on all fours
wide-eyed and giggling all the way
crawling fast across the floors

He awakens to a day of hope
finally standing on his own
weeks to months and months to years
now a family of his own

Mark Toney © 2021
Poetry form: Verse - Mark Toney © 2021
Tied to the earthly plane by flesh and materialism,
By the demons of fear lurking in crevices of mind.
Inundated by pools of emotion, we drown repeatedly,
Feet never touching ground in enlightment,
Still, we are casualties in the ****** war waged by time.

Our Hacksaw Ridge, a ledge, we struggle to ascend,
Attempting a perilous climb, grappling mountains of uncertainty.
And troves of us fail, falling back to the gravitational pull of pain,
Victims of life, we are flummoxed by the chaos,
Running around like headless chickens,
Clucking senselessly, the entire time.

Nevertheless, we live to fight another day,
A spark of kundalini, coiled at the base of spine,
Unconscious of our inherent power, we are taken in by physicality,
The agonies beneath skin, insecurity and anxiety, crippling,
Stifling and overpowering, but not unconquerable.
An existential contemplation, we turn the pages of the book of life,
Wandering valleys of past experiences, unknowing of why.

The awakening is slow - questions like lava, broiling sluggishly in volcano,
Until it becomes a waterfall of fire, consuming every thought in it's path.
But these living flames have come to destroy only the system we built,
One that has long outlived it's usefulness and efficiency,
And is now a leash around the necks of us, whose eyes have been opened,
For whom these shallow fulfillments can never fill,
Whose spirits are restless and ready, now that the alarm has been rung.

This hamster wheel cannot replace the dimensional cycles of existence,
We are simply, running a race to nowhere, exhausting our wills.
Hoping to smell the roses, it is senseless then,
That we be constantly in motion, not knowing where we're headed,
But going all the same, until the wheel is wrecked by omnipotence,
And the secrets of sphere are revealed to conscious mind.

We have no choice in the aftermath, but to break chains,
To demand liberation, and force the hands of fate to open,
To perform discovery of self, an archaeological dig site of graves,
Becoming accomodated with death, it's skeletal fingers comforting.
Embodying the inner god, we make miracle of resurrection,
Laying hands on deadened souls, we come alive amidst darkness,
Casting life into body, we chase away shadows of doubt,
Becoming spirit in temporary skin, shining light on the journey,
Leading those who would follow, to the entrance of a true awakening.
Cerasium Apr 2021
13 sparks of creation
13 origins of the universe
All working together
Forming life itself

13 living beings
Living origins of time itself
Set upon this dimension
To set it right

Starseeds were our weapon
To create harmony
To transcend this dimension
Into the next ascension

We are slowly being awakened
To our full abilities
Though some have always been
Others need triggers

This sparks trigger sent them
Far beyond this galaxy
Back to the planet
In which they were before

Awakened now
But not able to shine
Not yet anyway
But soon

I call upon the sparks
Givers of life
Creators of the universe
It is time to awaken

Time to finish the starseed
Time to ascend
I call upon you now
To cast your energy over the universe

Transcend this plain of existence
Those who fall will fall
Those who rise will rise
But we can not wait no longer
Microbees Mar 2021
Now close your eyes
And open them at sunrise
Grab the string to the blinds
Think of how you miss the sunlight

While you stretch your arms with a great yawn
And watch butterflies lay on the rose in the lawn
You ponder on what you will dream
Then wonder what else hides in the green

Smell the dew upon the grass
Your mug of coffee, done at last
To feel its warmth upon your fingers
And hope that maybe it will linger

Water the tiny kiwi tree
Study each and every leaf
To wonder how large it may grow
And hope in sixty years you'll know

To wonder where the sun goes
And if the butterflies eat the rose
To ponder if you'll sleep in turn
If you read this in reverse
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