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Pauper of Prose Jul 2018
How great Venus’s journey has been
How she’s dabbled in pureness and sin
And confused the concepts again and again
Doing bad in order to win
Doing good only for it to turn sour in the end
How tired Venus has grown of tripping over many rules
Let her rest upon your heart, to dream and drool
Don’t dare wake her slumber, for it will keep away fools
And to senseless burning passions, her soft breaths shall soothe
Eventually you’ll see her sleep enlivens, all that is you
So lay out a hammock, lay her on it, and swing it softly too
For as long as she slumbers upon thy, your feelings are true
Don't wrestle with love grown weary let it rest...
Shannon Jun 2018
one day i want to wake up,

beside you.

i want to feel your breath on my skin,

your lips lingering over my cheeks,

and your hands caressing me,

with a grasp unlike others,

and what would feel like home.

a grasp so careful, and protective,

like nobody would know.

i want to wake up beside you,

and have you love me,

all of me, for who i am.

i want to wake up beside you,

and not have you leave,

while we're making a language

that nobody can understand.

i want to wake up beside you,

while you feed me with affection,

honey sweet mutterings in my ear,

whispering things you want me to hear.

i want to wake up beside you,

i want to feel a sanctuary, a peace.

for you are my home,

let me have that please.
Hollow Steve Jun 2018
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
Pagan Paul Jun 2018
.
I know this place,
light stone avenues,
fig, pear, apricot and apple,
trees that line in rows,
cut paving with neat gutters
**** white granite buildings,
as ferns and creepers
cascade from roof gardens,
the green shining vivid
in appreciation of being alive.
And I connect across the aeons,
this place was my home,
from centuries long passed,
yet reaching out to be found.
The avenues mimic my mind,
long straight and narrow,
broad and winding,
leading to sedate squares
to sit and feel the sun,
to bathe in beautiful isolation.
And the trees sway
casually in a breeze so soft,
it caresses the branches,
enough to tickle the leaves
and cool the ripening fruit.
Here, the forest erupts,
circles around this sanctuary,
forming a natural hedge
to this garden of tranquility,
this oasis in the maelstrom,
this home in my heart.
Flowers of honeysuckle,
jasmine, of clovers and lily,
adorn walls and buildings,
bright in contrast
to the shadows of the trees,
bloom with the intensity of colour,
riotous in hue and arrangement,
yet, ordered to Nature's Law.
Paradise wrapped in image,
slicing through time and space,
my place a thousand years ago,
my place to claim forever,
and the wind carries me home,
I know this place,
because it lives inside of me,
because I made it.


© Pagan Paul (06/06/18)
.
Dustin Dean May 2018
igloos of burning reveries
we hid in to save ourselves
it was a simpler time, indeed
but for a greater cost, to bleed
our emotions for a fast high
it was a lasting paradise
but for a hastened goodbye
to send off our love, again
into the wild blue yonder

no, i won't pretend to know
just how it all seems
i only hope we'll meet again
in another dream
A Simillacrum May 2018
It's in the time spent inside yourself
when you drift gone away
If you think about it, it's a privilege,
as some hearts will stay stuck
bound by glue to material

It's in the pain you feel and know oh so well
Yet people in power surround your personal space
When it comes to empathy they invalidate
you but if you get ahead by accident even
they smell the success from the hills and
find sudden intense interest in your claim

It's in the distance you're given
and the lengths you create
Isolated in darkened corners
of the room it's our first
order to wilt if not hate

I know it myself from again and again
So if you're worried and scared that
They'll suffocate your sanctuary fire
I want you to know that folk who would
Assault and loot your art never had a home
Sabila Siddiqui May 2018
To the person
whose fierce loyalty
brings comfort.

Whose embracing hug
turns my hurricanes
into a whiff of wind.

The person who's my emotional crutch
on the struggling of days.
And the life vest
when I am drowning in pain.

To the person whose vibrant of all hues,
the bliss in my blues.
The shelter from torrential rain
And escape from my aching pain.

The listener
of my stirring experiences
and muddled-darkened thoughts.

The one
Who's ear is made of patient-empathetic cells
And words of underlying calmness
that seeps deep into the depth of my bones
and soothes my soul.

With you
Best moments are
Exponentially happier;
Much more vivid and illuminated
Worst times made bearable
And Infinitely less nerve-wracking.

You are my go-to
at any point of day.
The Christina to my Meredith
And the star of my Starbucks visits.

I am grateful to be
deeply embedded in your heart
as you are in mine.
To be your sanctuary
As I am yours.
PoserPersona Apr 2018
From the iron red sea flows
an infinite forest of white roots and gray leaves

Unequivocally woven in response to
the senses of each unique being

Ahhh, if timeless beauty is what you seek,
let the transcendental levies bleed

For that which may be perceived internally,
will be embellished eternally
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