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Ylzm 2d
On the highest peaks or the lowest darkest depths
In health and strength or broken, weak and nearly dead
In the midst of love and joy or rejected, exiled and unknown
In fullness of knowledge and assurance of the good will
Or bewildered and baffled, in perplexity stumbling and lost
With songs constantly singing, resplendent in angelic aura
Or utterly silent, crying beyond tears, covered in ashes of mourning
At the table, listened to and honoured by kings and princes
Or a starving slave forgotten and chained in the dank dungeon
But unseen in the flesh, unknowable unless heard,
is the Word, "I am with you," and that suffices for Life.
Washed in the image of noon; hoping to meet by five-
waiting patiently in a bus; so empty that different spaces
exist, not to be used. Can’t be late; seated in a dead silent
bus ride, as all manners of conversation are late

My own scent betrays me; foretelling the amount
of a day’s work; as the weekend is a fondest dream,
There’s still yesterday’s coffee stuck on my shirt,
stained in the privacy of four walls; where I get to see
touch, and embrace you once again

…the only true reason I look forward to
the end of the day- my woman, my lady.
I used to think,
Joy was the absence of sadness;
Of fear, suffering, and
Fault.
But now,
I see joy as
Embracing pleasures in the pain;
The simple and sublime,
The now and not yet.
Viktoriia Jul 18
what love may give
love shall take all the same,
the joy it brings is fleeting and uncertain.
a stolen kiss behind the heavy curtain
and every breath is on the precipice.
the one who yearns must yearn forever more,
the one who dares must learn to throw the game.
when bodies touch it's there to keep the score;
what love may give
love shall take all the same.
Tears of a bleeding knife; spoken promises from silent lips;
The language of one swaying a conversation- like their hips

I have been a victim of defeat, while snuffing up my tears;
Alongside the skeletons parading around in my closet
As a bone to pick with love, while picking up roses
Traveling through the thick of things as two lovers
Both stealing hearts- and being thick as thieves

As a moon spotlights over misery- wretchedness still,
Still under the sun we must celebrate in amnesia
Of what has passed- our past fades in time;
As its ticking clock of regret, is no longer mine

A breeze of promise echoes- searching for change
The very chances that elude the sage geckos
As we march towards another battle ground
I smile as a promise of fighting for better
Neither as a man who wears a frown

             I look above for hope’s song
Shoot a shot;-
jumping a gun, for the bullets
to be bouncing in and out of a heart.
Alas, another crime, another scar,
and another broken heart.

Instead…

Give her all of your attention
don’t mask over intentions,
Quickly solve all tensions-
love her as an instrument; a song of love,
And be her instrument of protection-
her caring, compassionate, and loving weapon.
Ken Pepiton Jun 23
-------
As a mortal may, I may imagine
I let myself drift with circumstance

and dance with the other half of me,

who gets this chance, just once
in a lifetime and lets it pass,
meaning nothing more,
than a thought,

fit to an instance.

We all have two minds, you know,
and those two think differently, alone;
but as we grow old and learn patience
perfecting persistance fitting instantiations
of the algorithmatic weform, we form upon

agreement, left hand sees the letters writ
I and e, left best and right best intentions,

combining minds to make a polimental me,
and whatsoever such agree, makes
aggravation heavy enough

to squeeze a mysterious fluid from
the first living stone to presume life's no fun,

yes, we be the augmented, minding wisdoms,
falsely called sciences of religion, using assisted
memory machinations, virtual how to persistence,
with go backs, and do overs, Mulligan's, to some,

mere next in truth, a step taken is never taken
back. In truth, each life's lived in go now mode,

later is as one might expect, having had days
like this in times past, spectator status revoked,

insanely great ideas fed crumbs, smile slightly.
and reprove the use of joy for no reason.
Zywa Jun 21
The night is over,

I still dance in the café --


on the shards of glass.
Poem "Woensdag" - 4 ("Wednesday" - 4, 2010, Lieke Marsman)
Poem "Universele esthetiek" - 1 ("Universal aesthetics" - 1, 2021, Lieke Marsman)

Collection "Loves Tricks Gains Pains in the 10s"
There are no words left,
to matter a change
that's worth any positive
cause and effect
Unless action can be taken
to calming to nurture a yearning
condition.
My first lover king ever
from mine youth now shared.

A precious dream breathes
and lives at last if
only in poem form, in song
and in memory chip.

In imaginary form
Bittersweet a fire burning.
Endless true loving of the woman
who loves you most
in this whole world wide.
Mind to mind,
and as the music played
To summon my story.

Any hope left
by the edge of this this cliff,
is but a final blow.
My misfortune.

Be your happiness my own
Her joy, my joy.
~~~~~~~
By: Mr. And Mrs Andrews
(Honors to this famous English
vast land famed painting-portrait
of something missing on Mrs lap,
  One of many past karmic lives.
Being chosen for changing Earth
I finally understood my peril
and then other's dilemmas
A great fortune against,
and for me stolen .
Written with Karijinbba.
https://youtu.be/-HK_4xvbrEk?feature=shared
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