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cleann98 May 22
colored handprints alight
splattered in dots and lines
a glassy pillow stretches
its wrinkled and hairlined skin
     cracked
           creaking
   crooked
          
               stretched wearing thin..

a hold on the waves
grasping currents
            passing
   rushing farther and farther

painting the vastness
of this open ended question
muddled muddied marred
      blurring in sight
not sure if this is an incomplete work or just an incomplete person's rambling...
Raven Feels Jul 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, wasn't a midnight this time:)

in a brilliant black dress
just like hers better the darker I guess
but she was an actress on a stage
wings with no limit or a cage

the lighter lights older violent notes
roses bleed the blood in red quotes
like perfect poem lines
played like a movie tape upon eyes

pink stars in permanent
seen when fell of the argument
talk some sense into the ceiling
on a page of eternal with no feeling

not the best of all the endings
some bones of broken to the mending
back to lipstick on coffee cup smells smart
the sky rains a fall a dream from the start


                                                                                           ------ravenfeels
Bardo Apr 2021
I seen this ****** photograph once, taken in lovely black and white
A beautiful figure framed by shadows,
A beautiful young dark-haired girl naked
kneeling on a stairway
With one hand draped across her *******
As if protecting herself from something, maybe even shielding her heart
Her face, it is turned away to one side
And buried in her other hand
As if she's suffering some great distress or sorrow,
Far from arousing in me ****** feelings, this photograph
It spoke to me of something else
Something quite different and much more significant
More than mere words could possibly say
It spoke to me...it spoke to me of my whole life.

Her body there, so youthful, beautiful without a blemish
Her lovely contours and curves smooth like the sand dunes of a desert
Her beautiful face made sad
Her petite delicate little shoulders and arms
Her wonderful *******, her lovely tummy/belly, the roundness of her hips
The bones of her knees jutting out from where she was kneeling
Her thighs and calves resting upon one another
Her ankles and little feet tucked in behind
Here was Youth in all its glorious splendor... and innocence
With all its wonderful promise,
Strangely, it reminded me of my own Youth and my own body once
Before age and the World had done their damage
This wonderful garment thrown over our eyes and our bones
And I remembered myself as a little child, running across the beach... across the strand
And I was talking to my legs, saying, "Come on legs! Faster! Faster!"
And I was hitting my hip with my hand as if it were a whip
And as if my legs were those of a horse galloping
Just like in the old Westerns we used watch (on TV)
Yes! There was a time once when I used to talk to my body, a private little world I had,
It was my closest, my most intimate friend
You'd do it when you were alone like it was the most natural thing in the world,
You needed a friend to talk to about this strange world you were in,
And then I remembered the little girl next door
They used put us together playing, us children, us being around the same age
She was such a sweet little thing, the way she used to laugh and smile all the time
Like the cutest little kitten
The joy in her eyes and that smile of hers
Where was it coming from... somewhere inside, somewhere within
And then I remembered, I too had it once, that same joy, that same smile
It had lived in me too once... that bliss.

                              2

That photograph, it struck me as being something almost holy
It reminded me straightaway, it reminded me of the Garden of Eden story
The beautiful body had been the Garden you see
And in the Garden there was no fear and no danger
Like a little kitten lolling about, rolling on its belly and stretching itself out
Without a worry or a care
Without a cloud on its horizon
A beautiful magical kingdom before the Mind ever existed.

But now looking again at the photograph and at her face made sad buried there in her hand
Now the photograph was telling me
Suddenly, all at once, there came a day and a shadow
Something from outside, it had entered her mind, some ugliness from the world
It had disturbed her for the first time
And this was a new sensation to her
And it had frightened her
"How could such a dark ugly thing exist", she was wondering,
'And how can I live now with this in my world,
Now that I've seen it, it will always be there",
And then another memory came back to me, That of myself as a little child lying in bed
Shaking my head from side to side, even bumping my head against the wall
There was something there in my head I didn't like, something I didn't want to hear or see, something disturbing
I didn't want it there, I wanted it to go away
I wanted it to stop,
But it wouldn't stop and it wouldn't go away
And you realised it'd always be there like some shadow hovering in the background.

                                3

Now dark clouds were beginning to gather over the Garden and the beautiful Body
Now the World was coming and the Tyranny, the Tyranny of the Mind was beginning
The Gates of the Garden, they were slowly starting to close
Yea, the fields of Arcadia were fading, the exotic fruits and feelings there were being taken away
Its lovely sweet river of ambrosia would now soon cease to flow.

Like the Snow Queen and her Icy Blizzard, like a cruel invading army
The Mind had awoken now like a sleeping dragon and the World, it was coming, coming now to feed
Starting to pour in like through a breached dam
The World with all its books and its lessons, its rules and examinations
The mental world forcefully asserting itself
With its bullying cajoling teachers and its many humiliations,
The Mind weighing down hard now upon the Body, leaning on it, squeezing it and straining it
Pulling it this way and that, hither and thither
All out of shape, all over the place
Rivers of outside influences flowing in now
You were like a tiny boat tossed upon stupendous waves
Always at the mercy of other people's words
Blown all over the place
Sometimes, sometimes I just couldn't stomach it, I couldn't digest it
Sometimes I could only just throw it all up.

                                   4

The Beautiful Body... Garden no longer, now just some hollow empty shell
The Mind alone was all that mattered now
All consuming and all devouring
The Body starting to buckle and to crumble
Underneath all that weight, the stress and the strain
Not knowing how to deal with it....lost and bewildered
Among the new feelings of emptiness and of pain
Overeating and undereating, unable to eat at all
Growing fat thinking that that could protect you from all the new fears in your brain.

                                5

The Body that beautiful Garden with its golden days
Were now long gone and forgotten
Thorns and briars had grown up in their stead
Just like some long lost fairytale Sleeping Beauty.
Made poor now and impoverished
I remembered... I had been a King once long ago back in my old Garden.

(The faint joys of the Mind y'know they were nothing in comparison
To what I'd known in that sweet Garden of old, that sweet Garden of mine).

Now when I look in the mirror I can hardly see myself anymore
But when I look at this photograph
I can see myself there.
Poem inspired by a photograph. A history of the Body. The clash of the Body and the Mind, the Natural and the World..
JKirin Apr 2021
In the night, I pretend to feel warmth
of your body and hands, big and strong,
wishing not to wake up, not to feel
this cold absence of you (too real).
I escape to the fantasy—
—stop,
loose myself in the ecstasy—
—don't!
Would you think of me less if you knew
that I wish to not see morning dew?
But the sun will come out anyway,
painting all of my dreams with cold grey...
After making another mistake,
I sit here, on our bed, wide awake.
Slender body beside is not yours.
I'm not fooled: It's not love – it's remorse.

Here, I crumble in this morning light,
feeling all the effects of last night.
He'll wake up and pick up all his stuff,
look at me and breathe out: "that's enough."
He will leave; there isn't much I can give
to him now, as your absence I grieve.
One day, maybe, I'll see him for him,
Embrace on purpose — not on a whim.
Would you deem me a cheat if I flee
to his arms and pretend to be free
from this loss, maybe learning to heal?
Would you blame me for wanting to feel
his—another man's—warmth in our bed
that hasn't been warm at all since you left?
about grief and loosing yourself in the arms of another man
Lee Aaun Mar 2021
if you can't accept my rejection,
its not my issue
as i can't love you anymore,
because i have realized my worth
just like you did back then—
when my heart was crumbled down
under your feet
i am not doing it to take revenge
it's karma, who is back
to give you, what you gave others
you get, what you give to others
Favonius Jan 2021
Turritopsis dohrnii: A species of jellyfish that can revert back
To a sexually immature state when its injured or dying, making it biologically immortal.

A jellyfish,
Nothing but thickened water
Some genetic material
Polythene bags and paper glue,
Is granted immortality.
We, humans
The heirs of a billion evolutions,
A million grains of life,
Crumble like sand castles
Scatter like sawdust.

The universe taunts,
Laugh until your shadow swallows you
Your every breath was a thousand last breaths,
Puny mortal.

But that's what makes us human. We can laugh.
Guntang Aug 2020
dripping nightmares
from my eyelids
burning pleasures
in my eyes
my sinews wrapped
in the vines of my mind
a black tear *****
doom from the beyond
and the brittle
footsteps of boney death
crumble at your doorstep
Simon Aug 2020
Trading life for death isn't the countermeasure for strife! As it is very "politely" too say that life mocks the complete scenario of death itself. However, if you actually started to take a little closer look at ourselves in general... You'd come to say that our very lives, aren't so different when death essentially claims them. Only when it is time for our lives to become entirely subjected upon deaths desire to appoint life to crumble at deaths very feet. Life in deaths very comparison for an opposite comparison, is seeing that it's nothing but "dust at one's very toes". But when life is about to crumble and seemingly turn into a crumbling dustless ash... It see's itself (for the very first time ever) plead too death in such a way as if it's begging at it's very, well...feet! Revealing it's form of crumbling dustless ash, even before it's become aware of that very state. As all life ever wanted (after coming to the final point in it's very supposed fluid ride of existence) was to hope for a nice ending! Until finding out that death wasn't so merciful!
Life. Death. All are so distinct from another. But also so...frail! Could one or the other truly outdo the other...? If so, then... How would a countermeasure for strife ever determine the outcome, when everything's too "disembodied"!
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