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MoonFlow May 18
Life is a play
But not a play where one
                                               feels ecstatic in its ecstasy
All you need is
                            To wade bitter rivers of grief
                   and
                                        Battered desires
I have friends in High Places,
good friends
tripping *****
floating atop mushroom clouds of ecstasy
Naked,
in otherworldly dimensions
pioneering the mental landscape,
explorers of the mind and soul
bodies,
breaking free of the Iron Cage
living to Love
working only to get by
getting high
to escape
to a place
where mere existence
makes sense.
In honor of Bicycle Day. And inspired by the poetic ramblings of Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac.

© 04/19/21 Rebecca Brenes All Rights Reserved
Piyush Sharma Apr 15
I've penciled my wounds over paper,
When people departed & left me an anaesthetic nature.
Had some ecstasy on the journey too,
No remorse there & that's something true.
Though I've been stuffing down all of my fumes,
May be that's what you do when all you have are echoing rooms.
Yeah I became sagacious enough on this path not taken,
Roved into a phase where memories get forsaken.
That's something you dream when you've been in rain,
And furnished others in a blissed frame.
This confounded world of such people...
Has an unexpected ecstasy in its own steeple.
It's actually kinda sad but being an introvert seems a better option in this generation.
The seed was planted in
A not so fertile land
And tremors were felt by the trees around
As the Almighty himself descended

Me, a mere spectator
Awestruck with the view
For the powerful seed
Transmuted the deciduous trees
With electric streams
As if the exuberance of the Divine seed
Gushed into their roots and leaves

The Bewildered me
Paid no heed
And embarked on to nurture
the miraculous seed
Every Morning with love and devotion

O Shambhavi, The Eyes of the Closed Eyes
Teasing me from beyond-
Enough to keep me intoxicated for the day;
Tell me how long is the wait
Till I see the Flower of limitless ecstasy
Shambhavi is a meditation practice and I am in love with it. Wrote about my feelings... :-)
M Solav Mar 17
A beauty that causes awe, that's your aim,
And a defence, this strategy called "it's all the same";
But there are cells for the marrow and cells for the brain,
And to call them similar seems rather quite insane.

Cause it takes mind to understand patience,
It takes defeat to finally accept the loss;
For only when all is lost, all can be regained;
That's the price to pay to understand the cost.

  And if I didn't have that pill to swallow,
  I'd call it bang for the money first thing tomorrow.

Around they gravitate like you're a shining star,
To take part and implode and beg a mighty roar;
It's the science of the desperate — no it ain't no art;
A beauty for the primates more than a beauty of the heart.

They slide down the usual paths of expansion
While we swim against pale currents of fog;
With my renounce I won't pay this ecstasy a call,
I won't beg a mighty roar, no I won't beg no more.

  But if I didn't have that pill to swallow,
  I'd call it bang for the money first thing tomorrow.

Now twice-spoken idioms might ring a bell or two
Like missed phone calls in the middle of the afternoon
I've gone out of my way to move out of the road
But I know that your fake beauty's just waiting to unfold

It's too easy to cast the blame, too easy to throw a bone
I've seen lightning bolts fall, I know who's on the phone
The dogs always bark along when they hear the thunders roar
It shouts across a sea of life, it's calling from afar.

  And if I didn't have that pill to swallow,
  I'd call it bang for the money first thing tomorrow.
Written on March 17th, 2021.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
Payton Mar 1
I await him, naked, head bowed, kneeling
With leather and rope he binds me tightly
Deft hands’ feather touches send me reeling
Melting candles ready, burning brightly  
He blindfolds me then gags me with a bit
And through the darkness, slowly I am led
To a place where in pleasure I shall sit
‘til ecstasy claims me upon the bed
He’s summoned the small death from me thrice now
Three rounds; it does not end with my pleasure
“You’ll take and like what I give you,” he growls
We’re done when he pleases —at his leisure
After all the teasing, pleasing, and pain
We collapse together —one, once again
This poem was written in 2020.
Dear Venus of my Heart,

The Solstice of blue, once flourishing with fiery flowers red, the petals of our garden froze. The chimney of our cabin of dreams, ambitious as Alexander's attainments, pops with the fog of the remnants of heat. We used to defy the now frozen roaring raging river of time and drink from the abstract notion of forever. For me, it felt like years embracing the elation of our entangled hearts, despite the days that went by. But reality is a grey mirror, and, in a hoard of wretched ways, I wronged you. Our Ecstasy, even extremely enlivening, was fleeting in behalf of my secret despair.

Imagine I a long-lasting love, a motto that guards me of any break. An unpierceable vowel, a couple for life, to live like lions loyal, bold and courageous yet entwined. So, to pour my emotions akin to the biblical flood and undergo an Ophelia, or even a Mimì, to subversion it distresses me. The motivations of mine may map me as an adamant, but I am a romantic, a believer of one true love. I just worry my machine shall yield to the snap of the edge and the ever yearly youthful yearning of restless consummation repels me. While passion is the feeling of the flesh, love is the feeling of the soul; one mate shall be fate. And my soul longs for you in spite of the lonely length that loosens our bonds.

Thus, out of my outrageous offense, I repent. I lament my vanity, this vividly voracious scruple of kissing way before and tragically after the priest's last words without a care for the bride. I apologize for this erroneous early enamor and the ceaseless insistence to the raw departure, leaving echoes of you in pictures of us. But now alas is time for my final parting, to let go because move on I shall. Heart breaks for heart's sake.

Forever and always,
H

PS: The fog shrouded our cabin of dreams. I feared going back to our place. But doubt no longer clouds my view, so I cleared the mist. Still, the chimney's black stains cannot be cleaned. Hope for this house rests on its grave. However, a new home is just around the corner. It is up to you to build it with me. I will be waiting.
This poem is a love letter to the person the previous two pieces were written for. It establishes that I finally found a way to move on and ends the first chapter of the anthology. From all the poems in it, this was actually the last one I wrote. Luckily, I actually got to reconnect with the recipient, yet I have not shared my poems with her.
Piyush Sharma Dec 2020
Yeah, you've been the best to me,
Yeah, I've been regretting things.
No, I can't hurt you anymore,
Want the best for you nothing more.
You've had enough scars,
Over your heart by my name,
But I'll be here still holding hands,
With your soul and smile...
Hoping for ecstasy.
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