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Laokos Sep 2020
you've never been
more beautiful
than when i
don't know you

all that
hidden skin
raw furnace

every drop
of light that
kisses your
is an invitation
to rise
like the
sun and shower
you in

every orbit
of your
celestial body
my flames
to lick and
as we spin
through each


so close

threaten my
with eruption
as you
pass by

tipped *******
twelve o'clock
on top
of orchid
petaled hips
perfuming my
garden of

i want to
do to you
what the
bee does
to the lily
M Solav Jul 2019
The mind at play is a rocking boat:
It goes along the flow of our thoughts
Between destination and arrival ports.
And on the boat we learn of causality.

The mind at rest is a quiet pond:
Its surface mirrors the world
As the edges are all withdrawn.
And in the lake we learn of unity.

The mind in a rush is a storm:
Waves collides in a frenetic waltz
Where one sees hills in eruption.
And in the storm we learn of identity.

...if we could get the vessel across;
...if we could face our own shape;
...if we could settle on the hilltops;
What more would be left for us to behold?
Written in June 2019 - for an exhibition in Peking.

— Copyright © M. Solav —
This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact for usage requests. Thank you.
Glenn Currier Mar 2019
The tongue wags with sudden impulse
swearing on myself what I’d never utter to another
a volcano of failure erupts like a reflex
gushing in a tide of crimson anger
making me wonder if my mind is master
or merely a servant of fleeting feelings.

I embarrass myself and subject those in earshot
to these small virile tsunamis of garbage
molesting and spoiling peaceful moments
while they silently love me
and cherish the molecules of purity
they see and summon in me.

It will take a higher power
to stem this tide
for my own devices have pitifully failed.

I call out to the heavens
mount me on eagles’ wings
bear me on the breath of dawn
change my mind
and pinch my tongue
between your finger and thumb.
Making a concerted effort to do better with this ***** vice I still court with too little forethought.
Chrissy Feb 2019
Would you please tell me when your heart is trembling , ready to erupt in a volcano of emotions
so instead of fleeing for my life
I can stay and try to mend the damage ?
All I want you to do is talk to me
a midnight
let fly
a lubricious
crow that
Vesuvius threw
off her
mind and
made out
this harmony
and a
throng we
once said
was so
wild where
we met
in night
of ash
a state of mind
nick armbrister Feb 2018
This artistic and ancient civilisation settled on these fertile slopes a millennia ago,
in peace with the land they live in complete harmony for they are not a war-faring race.

They plant crops and grow grapes on the lower slopes of the huge towering volcano,
everyone ignores the billowing clouds of steam issuing forth, they know they’re safe just as their parents knew.

At midday the earth rocks and then the volcano explodes, sleeping mountain awakes with a massive roar. Fire and rocks fly forth in all directions and lava flows down the steep slopes.

Villagers run away scared but many are caught in the fall of hot ash and rock,
as the burning lava destroys their crops and town they know the end is near.
Falling ash covers everything and everyone so that they’ll be hidden for three thousand years, entombed to their end.
grace Sep 2017
i watched the smoke loom into the sky.
you and i, we don't pay it any mind.
the blood is rushing to my face—
vesuvius who?

a.d. sixty-two: an earthquake shook the ground.
that was seventeen years ago, and we are twenty now.
four days ago the shakes started again
but i don't mind the sound.

i close my eyes and i am gone
the room is full of heat
volcanic ash and tephra and gas—
forever, we're asleep.
Thomas Conlan Aug 2017
Man, the mountain tamer.
Explains to the erupted how their cores can be corrupted. Disaster avoided he can rejoice, until he hears another voice. Afraid of how their emotional erosion may cause the Earth's explosion. Lost, not just their home, but themselves.

Man, the mountain tamer.
Sweetly shouts serenades to the mounds who seek aid. Blissfully bringing back the molten from back before they knew when. Lava they've learned to live through now erupting from within you. The heart's fatal eruption will be their world's destruction.
Dawn of Lighten Nov 2016
The Artisan tongue and Linguistic,
Likes of the melted cheese upon the mouth,
And the gift of tamoto soup in winter tundra.

Those are the gift that I seek upon,
As an indentured servant looking upon the wonders of aurora boreal,
Or a spiritless soul seeking to quench the inner fiber meld with ether.

Dream seeker with nothing to stand,
A adventurer without a quest,
Or the rebel without a cause.

Those days are but a distant past,
Forgotten murmur of mythic dreams,
As radiance dawn from each breath.

Come upon the golden kingdom,
And seek prize upon the window of glory,
While never stand in comfort of being normalized.

The suburban curse of procrastination,
The comfort of daydream,
The arrogant silence of enact.

The desire to seek greatness entwined with destiny,
Perpetual confidence grasp the very breath of existence,
And one would crawl out from nothing.

I breathe to be something,
And seek everything,
To avoid being nothing.

For seekers desire,
And desire seek every essence of breath another day to be all things.
I can never stay full, nor can be happy stagnant, but dare to seek everything.
Steven Forrester May 2016
When things are stacking up
My mind is packing up
And I've had enough
Of a world that seems to hate me
Of a world where theres no one left to save me
The new one
The lost one
The young one
All of them in my head
I wish I were dead
For causing this turmoil
Which I dread
Bury me in the soil
Before my anger is fed
By a lost tease
A new crush
And a young love
Who knows where it'll lead
Now hush
And fly away my dove
It bulds up to pull me down
Until I'm underground
Until I cant hear the sound
Of three sweet voices in which I've drowned
In love with the lost
Lost with the young
And a young friendship with the new
A voice of reason is trapped behind a door
Because where you have one voice
I have six more
Is not what they speak
Is all that they reap
I've come to a new assumption
Drowning in an emotional eruption
(c) Steven Forrester- From Diary of an Ominous Mind
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