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Dark Dream May 8
I see too much
Tiny details into the fray
It frightens
Not me, but you
And what I view
Beyond your screen
Some hypnotic wall
Your foggy countenance
Deceives the herd
As they follow the piper
Though I lingered
On the periphery
Some visions were concealed
By your obscurity
Unveiling becomes obsession
Then I regret
For now
I see too much
Jay M Apr 5
I call into the moonlit gleam
Though it may not right away seem
It was but a weary dream
Conjured by the heart
Only told in part
The remainder for another night

What more shall this tale tell?
What more shall be revealed
In the levels of the subconscious?
Only time and the will of a mind shall tell

- Jay M
March 26th, 2021
Deepali Apr 3
"On my god, whats that roar?"
- its the love stuff babe, you are looking for ;
**** your collar up and shout out the show -
"Nooo, i doubt will it announce the ***?"
"What's going on ? What's real or fake?"
- Relax honey its the purple lane -
"Oh! a ball of sugarcane or slime?"
- chuck all mothe"r"fucke"r" -
( LET'***** A LINE )
Lets hit a fresh line .
If I do something
And reveal it
Won't I lose
All the joy of doing it !!!

हम कुछ करे और जता दे
तोह करने का सारा मज़ा न गवा दे
If outta all the lovers,
And the plans I've made,
Nothing works, maybe..
I'm the issue?
Ken Pepiton Mar 7
The event, perhaps
advent, first ever any thing,
where nothing had  been, not a thought.

I think.
Then, when nothing was over
and everything we know now
began, light
was not the first thing, the idea was.
Be for
Word one. Hmmmmm or um or am
it may have been, I heard from
a transcribbled  myth or a legend as old as any
meme-level memory mortals have
made-up from remaining
tidbits taught to any next gen thing.
Assume light is as fast as the expansion,
couple of Planksecs,
and it is at the edge of ever,
never before,
never busting beyond the bubble we be in,
the physical middle of ever,
continuous now,
nothing to stop us imagining we,

disagree, now, after all's been said and done,
and things run on, re
de if-ing chaos as the mindless undoing force itself,
ever teaching any mind co-operation
in time… swirling beauty in bands of invisible
galaxies, barely seen, even now, we
see what we are told we see,
and expanded to
original intent, at the scale of precision, which
now requires of those who wish
to know truth in the entirety,
faith in the wits who invented the lenses
we imagine we see through into ever
This day began this way. Everything already,
readable, as it were, once, with us,
before our story folded,
and refolded and bent to allow
mass enlightenment I deal with now
knowledge, knowns known more
than I may think or ask,
available on our distant viewing apparatchik
network of nova sensorium newest of equations
that balance at perfectly predictable
Live and learn, do the math.
Or wait to see somethings never mattered
up to now, and now, you know,
you did, some how. That's good.
___ so, Whatever's next is too late to stop. That's good, too. Using all of Dirac that I can swallow, infinity is a valid answer, that we cannot honestly see beyond, despite the suggestion Buzz Lightyear offers for after Pinocchio.
Looking thru the crystal ball
Wondering will it tell me
What is in my near future
Will , I find you there
Will , I find a bit of peace

Crystal Ball , I need you
Show me some magical grace
Bless me with your vision
Clarity is yours now

Reveal yourself to me
Will , I be blessed
This , I shall see.

© Jennifer L DeLong 2/2021
Fianna Beth Feb 21
i like to think i /feel/ my emotions
but every time i sit to write i feel my heartbeat
quicken and rise to my throat
like a helium-filled boulder
breaths shorten

what am i afraid to reveal to myself?
Jay M Feb 5
One touch
Calls forth reality
Just a glimpse
Caught off guard
Never much
Walls with a moment of clarity
Of clearest quartz

Windows to the smokey undertones
Dried bushes of roses
Wilted, with petals to the wind
Stained stones
Line the path down
Into the endless pits of brown
Like bark of a tree
Or perhaps nutrient-rich soils
Of a secret garden
Watered with internalized rains
Never to flood out with great pains

In the garden
Shielded away
Is a pond of fish playing coy
Above tangling reeds
Only they stay
Protected from hands that may destroy
Or perhaps to brush against the hand that feeds
Light filtering through the green curtain

Buried beneath roots of reeds
Lies a chest of steel
Painted with winged steeds
Ghostly figures, perhaps once real
Locked with a strange mechanism
To which there is only one key
Of the strangest sorts
Perhaps lost to time
Or kept close as can be
Just out of sight

- Jay M
February 5th, 2021
One touch of the hand when least expected, caught off guard can show a glimpse to something unknown. A look in the eyes could speak volumes, if you know how to read them.
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