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Remedy Dec 2014
A butterfly caged if it is caught,
A lovely mind clouded, distraught,
Yearning for eyes to break their gaze;
To leave the cage and fly away

The frail beauty upon it's wings,
when caged feels only a bee's stings.
Perpetual stabbing until the day
To leave the cage and fly away.

Although now safe from stormy weather,
when clouds of sorrow come together
and shed the tears of those now slain,
The butterfly still writhes in pain

The sun is what's yearned for the most,
Yet in these shackles all is lost.
Never to leave this nasty train,
The butterfly still writhes in pain.

The train riding an unknown path,
Yet too soon to it's aftermath,
The conductor lusting over things
like pleasure took from withered wings.

Obsessed over it's pain filled cries,
the conductor hurts the butterfly.
He's now feeling like he's a king
from pleasure took from withered wings.

Freedom will never board the train,
and rid the butterfly of her pain.
Only her death will bring her day
To leave the cage and fly away.
This is quite possibly the poem that started it all, as I wrote this in 2009 for a workshop on DeviantART. The workshop was this-
Write a poem under 30 lines that includes a butterfly, a cloud, a train and an obsession.
Kenshō Dec 2014
Embody the world!
Dream into creation!
Your touch will comfort like carpeted grass.
Your voice like the wind and streams of peace.
Your breathe like lemon grass herb, warm and sweet.
Your mind like the mountains and clouds of the wanderer.

This man walks with poncho, satchel and cane.
He claims no wisdom and wars over no land.
He saddles the wind and chants to the Gods of ever-last.
Trailing only is a smokey film produced by his pipe of eternal life.

Modest is the heart of a good man;
Keen are the eyes and consciousness.
A natural fortitude are the roots of a clean soul;
Spread are the arms of success upon a mountain.
Survey the landscapes of history,
The beautiful transforming of this world,
Divine in its nature!
~~~
Kenshō Dec 2014
Between nodes of silence,
thus the spirit came forth.
From the fortitude of unity,
rising through this dense, fast world.
What impressions would the most high
have of this world, I wish to know not.
But beyond this mind's confusion and
crest of clouded sky, lies a multitude
of spirited worlds revolving and glowing.
Sometimes I wonder about those worlds..
you were a storm--
whirling and whistling and...
well, everything and anything
all at once

and I was caught unprepared.

though they feared your wrath
panicking and praying and...
perhaps, everything and anything
all at once

but I paid them no mind.

violently tearing that dotted line separating
making believe and messing up and
maybe, everything and anything
all at once

or what I thought I feared.

when the winds have faded
when the waters have evaporated
when the smoke clouds have cleared
all at once
I realize finally that

the calm and the quiet and the peace and
well, all of it
was what I truly feared
sobroquet Nov 2014
Lonely can be the plight of the English major
languishing in a lexicon of terms and forms
dreams and schemes
witticisms and imaginings
with that lushness of loquacity
whereby  sonnets and rhymes are adorned
symbols and signs are reformed
where mellifluous speech is ascribed an eloquence
transcribed and renewed
and the heralding voices of angels appear
preceded by an  aperture of magnificent hues

*I will always be in love with you
our lives are not our own
from womb to tomb
we are bound to others
past and present
and by each crime
and by every kindness
we birth our future
stream of consciousness
Matthew Harlovic Nov 2014
Let us pretend that our saviors lie in cloud cover.

© Matthew Harlovic
Asa D Bruss Oct 2014
Oh to say it so dearly, It was a great show.
I stayed out and watched it for a good hour.
The wind had come out of some hidden pocket. Like a thief in the night,
it scurried out excitedly through the screen door flying shut behind it,
and looking at the stark line drawn across the horizon;
a wall of cloud with so distinct an edge of gray, and at the same time
so thin
as to see the shadow
blue sky on the other side.

It was just a sheet.
The wind like a blanket,
energy surged, and the blood pumped a little faster at it's touch.
Then leaves began swirling,
as if fleeing for cover around the legs.
sweeping over to the porch,
while the canvas of clouds pitched its ever looming tent.
On over to get a plain view of my street lamp,
watching the tree's now twisting like spaghetti;
branches twisting in ways you would expect to break them,
all with a humdrum pitter-patter of rogue raindrops,
accompanied by that shrill electric thickness...
that makes your skin simmer, your mind hum, and your eyes glow.

The light of the streetlamp showing all the rain more clearly,
and all at once coming like a horde en masse down a hill.
Someone had given the signal,
and so it began.
The floodgates were released.
The opera had begun in earnest, with it's effects and sounds, lights, action!
The foreplay had given way to the full force of wetness.

In the pith of the light it looked as though the lamp was now a fountain.
The lightning being so evenly dispersed, the sky like a screen to see a stroboscopic chaos, so serene.
The wind and rain so perfectly mixed,
so perfectly so to syphon off a single breath of mist upon the face.
I stood like a boy of six in a parade.
Enthralled by the power, the nonchalance, and the purity of might.
Humans and animals, cars and bicycles, birds and branches, all pulling a hasty retreat.

I watched and watched, and watched more, and never got bored, only a little damp.
I came in and went up to the bedroom above the porch and lay on my window cloud
and drowsily watched the show in a bubble, til the end.

Nothing lets me see so clearly like a good rain.
People who wish for sunshine everyday are idiots.
Just sat and watched it... so glad I did.
Tina Marie Oct 2014
I know the place where the clouds collide
And the oars are lightning bolts
That you use to steer through the starry skies
When the milky way tide sends your cumulus boat
On a whirlwind through the night

I know the place where the moonbeams are carved
And then cast into the sky
To light your path on the nightscape sea
As you race through your nightmares
And drift though your dreams
Just a bit of fancy that caught my imagination. I'll probably develop it more, but I didn't want to forget it.
Life's a Beach Oct 2014
And the cloud strewn skies
Opened up their eyes and cried
Upon my upturned face

And as the thunder rolled
Alone I strolled
Turned out, and out of place

And I yelled my lies to those
Cloud strewn skies and within
I searched to erase

An upturn lip is wished to be
washed away, a roving eye is
bidden to rest

And under the sight of that
cloud strewn sky, I made
myself again,

But, this time, more than less.
And
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