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annh Mar 2021
I am not my words,
Nor am I the letters from which they are formed;
I am a beating drum,
A cacophony,
A riot keeping pace with mortal time;
Spinning order thriftily,
So as not to cheapen the divinely proclaimed language of the soul.

‘Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.’
- T. S. Eliot
Shagun Aug 2020
The mist clouded my sight
The dress I wore was white
I was lost I could tell
So, I followed the **** of the tower bell
The wind swooshed past my face
It was a mystifying maze
I was cold
All I had was the warmth of
your love                          
My hair was damp
You switched on the table
The branches creaked
Under my feet.
At some distance the water cascaded
The trees in front of me faded
The insects were buzzing
The paper on your nightstand were rustling
The woods whispered
The birds no longer chirped
I am still looking for peace.
Our photo frame on the mantelpiece.
You burned it down
I tripped on the frozen ground.
I knew I was losing you
I could no longer feel you.
The scratches on my elbow and knees
The frost on the leaves.
I feel like I’ve heard and seen this before
I cannot take it anymore.
These sounds are noise to my ears.
All I see are my fears.
They screamed at me monstrously
I can’t handle this cacophony.
This poem is a depiction of my life created in an imaginary setting of a forest. I have lost my way. And there are scary sounds that surround me. The only thing that keeps me moving forward is the warmth of my lover's love. However, things get bad for me when my lover destroys picture of us and that is when I can no longer feel that love. And I stumble on my path and fall hard onto the ground. My inner demons disguised as the woods overpower me and I can not take it anymore.
The uniVerse Jul 2020
I’ve not been feeling too clever
I’m under the weather
head in the clouds
for crying out loud
a catchphrase of cliches
this purple haze
was man-made
not in China
from a ******
I tried to squeeze
into my genes
I guess my but
is too big
can you ever forgive?
- this interruption
the language corruption
just trying to do my best
been studying for life’s test
my final exam
gone ham
and turkey
I like to do it *****
feel the soil between my toes
plant my feet and watch me grow
I am a giant
of egoic proportions
my stoic abortions
killing ideas before they’re born
feel free to yawn
go take a break
I will be right back
for goodness sake
you need a nap
your poetry has become absurd
we used to hang on your every word
now this sloth has found a new tree
yet still, it’s a sin for me to sleep
maybe I should try gluttony
and see what else I can add to this cacophony
am I even still making sense?
- or do I need to be benched
I’ve taken more shots at goal
then I care to remember
still keep missing the hole
despite having a mentor
I meant her
she was my teacher
she taught me time waits for no man
yet here I am
still head in the clouds
she wouldn’t be proud
but then I’m not too clever
I’m just under the weather.
Originally Written July 8th, 2019
Mandi Wolfe Nov 2019
Sleepy Sounds-
cacophony of the
shared studio apartment
An island of misfit
Some straight from
the factory with
missing parts
Some with
limbs lost over
All wandered/fled/abandoned
Five sets of
finally closed to
All found now
in this place
Proctor Ehrling Sep 2019
You chugged down a pint of stout
Reason running in and out
Your friends cheering you on
Until all reason is completely gone
   In a moment of uncertainty
   You poise the possibility
   Of ordering another pint of that hilarity
You get another one and a shot
You feel your head spins and you're hot
You're being cheered on by your friend-squad
Reason's leaving, but you're not
   The evening just began
   And you feel a certain urge to dance
   Then that concludes
   You get the pint again
   And the reason still eludes
About the unreasonably high alcoholic consumption most folks go through at some point.
duang fu Jan 2019
is a mother yelling over the sound of the dishwasher
hanging grapes that dry against the yolk-orange wall
the local boy with mud under his nails
and the girl that smells like new york city
loud sunlight upon the hush still river
brown rust eating up white paint
father's office suit in the back of his dusty Jeep
screeching tires that tear past red-light lines
blood red sprinkles on the roadside's white daisies
birthday cake swallowed in tears

don't let these worlds collide,
they say -
for it only brings chaos
suburban cacophony hurts your ears
with a truth ugly to the eyes
leaves an imprint
like a sharp pendant pressed to the chest
written sept 3 2018
Sally A Bayan Sep 2018
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When emerging from a dialogue,
a communion.....with God, taking in
all the good and bad we've poured,
a reassuring calm rests upon us, through
a peaceful silence...a lilt flows in every
word and move...a smile graces all

In the midst of chi kung mornings
all energies one speaks,
a silence enfolds participants...a time
to receive energy, and share...a time
to be strengthen others

alone, by the deck of a ferryboat,
with no bouts of mal de mer...a vista
of the limitless horizon, and the flowing
sea, mutes the human way
to quiet moments, to mull over things, and
discover one's self......senses are made
aware, by a mist of sea water,
and a swooshing wind that brings
a scent of salt
......a peaceful silence calms the soul

a moment comes,
when cacophony heightens.
drums, gongs, church bells and cell
phones ringing, dominate the airs.
in our own found silence, we listen
closely...'til a pleasant beat finally
waves...rhythm is found...and heard,
until music is a dream.
tunes agree, there's nothing left to do
but sing "la-di-das and la-la-las..."

late nights, before and beyond midnight
when the night radio rhythmically plays
a crescendo and diminuendo of snores,
i seek for my muse that teases and hides,
there's the silence of creation...
inspiration, suddenly becomes incipient,
it resonates, at times, stubbornly torments,
no sound could ever distract the flow.
Schubert's Serenade, or Beethoven's Silence
can only enhance......not crumble, nor ruin
the attempt to create......especially when
silence is most eloquent.....i am rendered


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    September 3, 2018
(mal de mer---French term for "seasickness")
Rafael Torres Sep 2018
A whole new spiral,
Trees upon a coil,
Ink from leagues,
Written feathers,
Drizzled down as oil,
Less is more,
Reverse inside-out,
Springs before fall,
Trojan powered horses,
Mother Nature's fickle,
In life we really are all,
Trapped within a pickle...
Steal the base,
Capture the flag,
Always run the risk,
Chess played on a checker board,
Hands turned into fists...
The endless stairs,
Rise & fall,
Chutes & ladders,
Orbital magnetic pull...
This way,
That way,
Three rights make a left,
Two of either,
Horizontal shift,
Four times,
Stuck in circles...
Full Moon,
Half Moon,
Crescent Moon,
**** cheeks...
Face cheeks,
Two lips,
**** facts...
The Owl asks "Who?"
Not how many licks,
Tongue twister,
Riddle fister,
******* fcking dcks...
Under construction,
Living life,
Chasing death,
Don't forget to function...
Playing hooky,
Hooked on phonics,
Lose the "O",
Rolled away,
Pacific Bell,
Pack Bell,
Liberty Bell,
Followed crumbs,
Cacophony of words,
Magnified to deaf,
Mr. Mime,
Hypnotic crest...
Apply directly to the forehead...
Water your brain,
Extra fries,
A to Z,
1, 2, 3...
F*cking A,
We say...
Today is here,
The end is near,
All come here to stay...
Escape rope untethered,
Weather altered sky day.
Gaze at stars,
Hollywood floor,
Life is great,
Life is crap,
You decide,
Not me...
Cause all I see,
Is cacophony...
No sense inside of "we"...
Here we are,
We've come so far,
Have fun at last...
Half full,
Half empty,
At least we have the glass......
Written: 8/4/2018. 6:09 PM. A whole new spiral, trees upon a coil refers to writing in a new notebook, after my other having been filled. The rest literally.. unspiraled..
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