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Aaron Feb 2019
Look back - my sight was black and white,
A decidedly dividing definition;
“Surely now I see what’s right” –
What a presumptuous premonition.

Fast forward a few:
“All scenes shall shatter.”
Nihilism, not new; just
Cognitive chatter.

Even Nothing now ends
in a burst of ferocious flame;
The love that she sends
renders the Big Bang tame.

You ask what I believe:
As though it’s set in stone;
As though there’s some reprieve;
As though I’ve fully grown.
I'm not great with titles. Recommendations are always great. <3
George Krokos May 2013
The rivers of the world all tend to flow toward the sea
and the love of the lover with the beloved longs to be.
In merging and uniting our sense of separateness disappears
and that feeling of oneness experienced removes all our fears.
_________________
From "The Quatrains" ongoing writings since the early '90's.
Nabs Dec 2015
By: Nabs

Inhaling the musky air, in the attic that we began
Exhaling, when we realize we are still stuck there
Like two birds with one of their wings clipped to each other
Trying to fly and reach for the sky, desperately believing that they wouldn't end up right where it started

So we row and row in the endless stream of regret
With a boat made of our mangled wishes and hope for a better future
Dragonfly wings accompanied with our scream
Of the unfairness of this all

Soon we whispered, "Maybe unfairness is a form of fairness"
As we delude our self to thinking that our boat aren't as battered as they are
Aren't as littered with holes
There are more holes that we cannot plug with our fingers now

The ash tree back home are laughing

So we tangle our hands together, again and again, like we were at the beginning of the end
Hoping that our effort to found a way to fly would not be for naught
Choking back sobs and replacing it with laughter
"We're both doing fine", we said
Though, we still haven't perfected the laughter

It still rings hollow

There are boxes filling the attic
It reeked of happiness and fondness
Something that we lacked ever since we shed our individuality
Stained glass are littering the floor, making a mosaic of colors, rainbow reflected by the lights

We are crying and our hands are shaking

We gripped each other tight, breaking bones and binding us more and more
A jagged mash of flaws trying to not break down
Forgetting how to be individuals, how to not be an unit
Forgetting the most important part

We are left to our sinews now, stripped bare for all to see

We whispered our promises, about our tale, about our plans, about our dreams
We looked at each other, battered and bruised and so so broken, just like the day when we become us
We had thought we were invincible, no one will beat us down
Yet the our blood littered the earth, a sacrifice the earth asked from the beaten

The old dream catcher we made for each other still hung on the attic
It was made from ash wood with blue feathers
The webs are frayed, feathers turned gray, the woods are chipped, looking so frail and delicate, as if one touch can turn them into dust
We coughed blood from laughing at how that reflect us now

We lay down on the floor, counting up relation and ships, counting the wave that smoother the corals, counting up on how many times we regret our decision
It is a curse and we have no one to blame but us
Hate came mercilessly, like a tsunami crashing to the shore

Frayed edges of torn up ribbons
Of half forgotten day dreams and the smell of birthdays
Of the bitter taste of rebirth and death
We are tied with more than one ties and they want to see us squirm

We are exhausted
Like the carnation wallpaper peeling in the attic, the murals of the life, that we used to have are, lulling us to sleep
Each color and shape painstakingly painted with blood and imagination
They are telling us tales of shades, drowning us pleasantly in the river of sweet sweet sanctuary
To a place where differences were what we are

So we pretend we can close our eyes, dozing off, while betrayal perfume the air
Heady, intoxicating, repulsive
How it made life course through the dry channel
And how we both hate it

We each try our hardest to forget the sword that we held that is drenched in misery and ******, pretending that what we have in our pockets are candy, not poison
We tried and we tried and we tried
Here we lay down on the grave of our individuals

A place where I and you were buried, and we come to life
This is a submission for an event, hope you guys enjoy. Critics is welcome as usual but dont be an *** about it
~                                                          ~
Poe­ms. Leave a special subtle fleur
lingering  around. In colours they
live. In auras of poets. They're
born. They turn. They dye.
The world. And die.
~                     ~                         ~
In the middle Earth we'd love
and cherish our liberated
slick yearnin's. Limbs.
Craving caresses.
Demanding
more.
~     ~                ~             ~              
I'd kiss you like a crazy
flutterby. Levitating
upon your body.
In pleasure.
You. . .Me
~~~                                             ~  
Endless words stream from
your radiant thoughts.
Laser swords are no
match to describe.
How you Scribe.
Vital. Sensual.    
Invitations.
~           ~            ~              ~
My eyes sip you. Wordless.
You purr. In my palms.
Lustful breaths.Dim
Light. Pressed. Lit
Flames. Are we.

Together.
  ~     ~
Imagined by
Impeccable
Space Poetess
~~~~~~~~~~
Life!
Life is not about
Telling jokes on other peoples behalf
Behalf!
The bottle is empty or full of liquid
Liquid!
The primal message of growth needs moist
Moist!
Merges with at least two body heats infatuation
Infatuation!


Ergo:  life, behalf, liquid, moist, infatuation===> The middle age is probbably the most magical stage of life
where infatuation absolutely and undoubtedly (will) occurs.
P.S. - Be open to life's wonderful surprises!
Mike Essig Apr 2015
Two solitudes
greeting,
touching,
and protecting
each other.

— The End —