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He looks like a mesmerizing moonbeam
She desperately desires him


He smells of lavender
His smiles make her
happier
He's unaware
of her
amour
She does
suffer
from the distance
of light year
Yes,she's a one sided lover.
S Smoothie Sep 3
Behind the days bluish glow

I know you're there

I wait for sunset and while away

Until the midnight hour

Where your breath speaks to my soul

Where constellations twinkle

in sequence spelling out your secret name

And as I rise weightless

Leaving the old leaden sheath behind

The cosmos suddenly opens

A stream of concious light

Interconnected highways and byways

And the game of tip chase begins

Are you amongst the stars?

Are those your soul prints amongst the quasars?

I search for you,

With all the excitement

Of innocent eyes devouring the wonders

but you still remain for my efforts unseen...
Inspired by greatness
Little Globe
Grow me a planet
I want a moon
Followed by a Saturn
Real ones but small
To fit inside my pocket
Got my own worlds
In my palm
Dear Stalker,

Cold hands,
I think I'm starting to miss you;
stranger.
Someone I know that's not here,
a person distant, but yet so close.
-It's funny, I've never spoken to you-
But eye contact is all it seemed to be.
We live different lives, with our families.
But once a while, we gaze eyes, and see
each other through the haze.
I think i' am attracted,
strings attached,
but our ends
could never
meet.
I find it funny,
How someone I seen stalking me,
could become my own obsession,
that I think of every day.
It's unhealthy;
and that's why I chose to stay away from you.
But somewhere deep down inside me,
I think I love you too.
I' feel weird.
Àŧùl Aug 14
Beyond sacred geometry,
Hides a dark secret.

A secret of stolen symbols,
And stolen concepts.
My HP Poem #1939
©Atul Kaushal
S Smoothie Aug 1
He came and rested

like a bird on my shoulder  

Cautiously testing the suitability

and equilibrium of his perch

After a few inquisitive glances,

he seemed to ease.

I let out a slow careful breath...

Then another...

and rather gently built up a rhythm

so as not to startle him

lest he fly away.

And seemingly resolved,

he inched closer

till I could feel the flutter of his breast

and the gentle nuzzling of his head on my ear

My conciousness bade him welcome

such beautiful iridescent blues

straddled his white breast

and piercing blue eyes peered through

a velveteen mask

nestled upon a darkened beak

A striking fellow.

his weary feet belied his beautiful veneer

upon closer inspection,

I notice a small part of him missing,

maybe caught in some fierce struggle for life,

I had enjoyed him fluttering and flitting about weaving such wonderful things with trinkets collected from his travels

There was something ethereal,

yet lonesome in his posture

like that of a wise man

whose trials had marked

the strength of the lines

in his weary well travelled face

but a youthfulness glowed beneath

that smiling eyes could betray in an instant.

It felt like he knew me.

An old friend of the cosmos

that I'd crossed by and by.

And when I dared

and he dared,

our eyes met

and instantly our souls

recognised some ancient promise.

After an endless moment of acquiescence

He began to whisper his mystical wanderings chasing the astral turning of tides.

He whispered ancient mysteries in my ear,

of being lost in endless Odyssey's

revealing our secret truths laid amongst the stars waiting to transform

and reunite in some spectacular way,

some new creation

to flush away the yearning of brighter ways.

I pointed them out to him on the horizon

and I did my best to assure him they were there,

it was then that I spotted that low bow that

broke bare and it hung there

In front of him like a stalking giant,

oh well I whispered

"what's the meaning of existence,

if at least we don't try?"

And off we flew in a different direction

searching for some metaphorical chainsaw

to make for a clearer view.

We couldn't help but feel we were missing something...
A little inspiration
Zywa Jul 19
The secret lovers

get caught between their kisses --


Their future closes.
"Nuns and Soldiers" (1980, Irish Murdoch)

Collection "Thinkles Lusionless"
Yenson Jun 22
Let's face it
its more ******* warfare
culturally they are used to faking it
as thimbles and chipolatas in ninety seconds
do not reach first base much less seeing stars on cloud nine
hence they woke and fake the reality they chose be it feel or fright
in woke solidarity against frustrations they cloned their made-up foe
what better than sturdy shining Mandingo loaded and *******
there for the having to your heart's content
presented to you the untamed beast
the wild moor tooled hot and ready
raw animalistic unfettered passion
rock hard we can name him Rocky
that goer that delivers every time
the one that is all your men aren't
and can never be cause he's gifted
sleek like dolphin in rhythmic glide
tasty like fresh clean mushroom
Arabian stallion if ever there's one
with absolute pedigree and class
take a break from the mediocre
from the wham bangs no can dos
from the floppy quick-draws saps
imagine the dark horse with the most
in smooth soft pink leathery velvet
tis your secret your guilty pleasure
tis the obsession you made into a war
the fantasy that plays in your heads
tis behind fervours that haunts you
that you so well disguise in hatred
telling metaphors slip out Freud
hold him down, grind him hard
wear him out, let's wreck him so
the sado masochistic 'punishing him'
give him a hard time, it all says a lot
you twist innocent sentences into
****** innuendos and innocent actions
are falsely given ****** meanings
as morn noon and night you toil
you troll and agitate for attention
yes you twist turn  bite and nibble
in Freudian throes you talk love
you glaze unrequited love relentlessly
you close your eyes and dream sweet pain
yeah! get real, its no psyche warfare
its a flutters obsession, it's the classic '
"The lady doth protest too much, methinks."
its how you float your boats and and get yer thrills
you better face it you're all addicted
It's an ******* War-fare and you all know so.....
l
Zack Ripley Jun 11
Things are bad.
They've always been bad.
And I'll tell you a secret...
Bad things will keep happening.
But life is too short
to treat it as a spectator sport.
So don't wait for the bad times to end
To start living again
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