Sanctuary



   I declare my void sanctuary. Its rhythm makes me fall, its vibrations make me crawl. As I sit on a stone, I gradually become a statue. The plastic melting in the fire, I'll soon become toxic fumes. Sometimes the fire sparks anew, a breath of mine that remains a clue. Is the aftermath a blessing or did poison strike my veins?  The venom, singing its purple sound inside my ears. I inhale enlightenment through pain, as if that's who I'm supposed to be. Please bring clarification, please bring a sign. I'm tired of being confused, this yin-yang abuse. As if the light were a monastery, then my void will be sanctuary. This clueless victim always knew his journey, his mistakes. The acknowledgment came far too late though, so refuge took hold of my chest. My chest is now void.  



                                      Jealousy's rhythm    

  

Jealousy is the song of insecurities; I sing his masculine tune. The fever can't be sweated out, the anger won't subside. I thought this was made by you, but my thoughts portray just me. Clearly my aura remains damaged or I'm just plain stupid. A gullible fool filled with fiction and paranoia. They make for a good writer, yet an alcoholic at that. Recognition became an empty shell; there's no pearl inside, just a buffoon. I am swayed by malevolence, you are benevolence. I searched for an angel, yet I became a demon. When the clouds disperse and the rain dries up, will you walk this sunny day with me? Will you stay? I see another storm coming, at least today we played.



                                              Lovesick

  

   Insects crawling up a wall, getting squished when approached. No thought about it. Just fear, just anger. A fever crawls up the body, crashing and failing the immune system. A weak body makes for a good recipe of sickness, his guts spewing out of him of course. You can't contain the virus; you can not contain the beast. His morals set him apart from man, but man lacks true judgement. Who are the real beasts? Men being swayed or a man abiding his own morals? Cast away the negative aspects of self, build on the empire of light and goodness. Just when I thought I could keep a strong will, I decayed in my own sickness. I am lovesick.

June 2013
N E Waters May 2013
III
Any word never so softly spoken
never words ever so stately joking . . .
hopeless without dope
the whole world tokes--
just don't choke
and swallow smoke so toxic.

I've had it with this rock shit,
wanting women to go topless.
knock THIS with fists clenched to bliss
never was there ever so sinister a kiss.
don't miss this chance to be missed for misters miss's listless jist of this.


sound is forever
ever heard of white noise
its the sound of people fighting across the world forever ever for letters between a girl and a boy.
are you sure?
do you really want this?
can you bomb it, not drop it
to kill meaningless fetuses?
why are you reading this?
you can't beat this.
Eat this slowly trying to depleat this.
guess what?


everhing you've been reading is meaningless.
I've been reminiscing over pictures
of a time I'm missing
strayed so far away I can't
fathom the difference

I'm not dead, I'm alive

six feet under terra firma
that's a fathomable distance
and I could take it further

an unrestrained mind makes
for a quick learner
not all pain is physical
but we've all felt it

that's our reciprocal

life is about coming and going
ebb and flow
a continuous state of reoccurring

rises and falls
trips and stumbles them all
..
"going backwards and forwards"
until my smooth texture
becomes so very porous
HectorBrown Jun 8
Deep green eyes and brown skin,
A smile lifts the veil off of ivory white men,
Lost in her eyes, she's lost herself,
Roving the grey.

Tribal monoliths arching over streets,
Monotonous concrete rhythm set to repeat,
Brown without green and grey without blue,
Transparent, a city that is see-through.

Flames of passion lick at frigid skeletons,
Tribes of men guarding a mellowed crone,
Swelling crescendo, fire and glory,
Life tells a different story.
Inspired by Jamie xx's In Colour.
Lyrics sink into my memory
Beat, into my heart,
Music, into my soul.
They stay with me uninvited
They mock me when I’m scared,
And torture me when I’m confused
Blocking out my worries
No matter how important they seems
They scream at the top of their voice
Without missing any dime of the track

Lyrics lures my mind into a lazy reputation
Sinking me deep, deep down into its ocean of scented water
Beats compels me to listen to the rhythmical sound behind the beat
Transporting me far beyond what I behold
Music dazzles the image in my mind causing them to multiply in tons
Thereby overcrowding my brain with maze of mystical ideas
Making it hard to marge up the mystical master piece.

Lyric steals my breath away
Music makes me lose my sanity
lyrics, Beats and Music makes me stop in my track,
And listen over and over again!...
Ah!... how I wish Al-Fruqon  will have the same wonderful eff
to the wonderful effect music gives me...
sit low
ride slow
shift casual
gain speed gradual

emotions so, close
addicted to her, overdose
she is unlike most,
Caspers ghost.
Trish May 25
That little string that connects us
The rhythm of the songs we dance
The notes that we tried to hit
This fast beating heart of ours

Took a little step towards you
Yet, moved one step backwards
Ran to you with eagerness in me
Suddenly decided to play hide and seek

Anxiously looking after you disappear
Left me wondering why are you doing this to me
Too late to realize, you said goodbye
Before you left my side and hide

Hide and Seek, yet I only seek—
For the reality of this fantasy
A little string that never exist
Story of us is now on its ending
Inspired by the movie "Kimi No Na Wa" and Children playing hide and seek. Also, "Kathang Isip" by Ben&Ben, an opm song that I listen to whenever I look for inspiration and mood to make a poem
PoserPersona May 24
Try utilizing meter and form
Stanzas that can be adored
Not necessarily rhyming
Though at least include some pacing
Prose riding rhythm
Consider a little alliteration
Free verse certainly has merit
But too often excuses shit.
Give us not what is convenient,
But that which is brilliant.

Always,
One unwilling to partake in your portentous orgy
Yes, I think there is a lot of great contemporary poetry and poets, as much as any other genre, but I just feel free prose is abused not for its brilliance, but for the apparent convenience people seem to think it affords them.
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