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Mystic Ink Plus Oct 2020
The greater space
One allows to
The stronger base
They hold

Life will be
Much simpler
If only we know
Whom to keep distance
Whom to get close
Whom to allow 1 sec
Whom to hear more
Whom to release free
Whom to hold on
Whom to welcome
Whom to bid silence
Genre: Experimental
Theme: Journey
Author's Note:

Objective of every journey you start is not just where to reach, your journey will be worthwhile to recall if it adds value to your well being. When it comes to trust, have trust in yourself first then the alley. Trust the intuition and the rest thing doesn't matter at all. For this you need to be aware what you feed your soul.

Greet thanks to all those who left you in the mid-way, appreciate those who were there to hold when you are about to fall, who were there to guide where to be, who were there to advice you to rest when you are tired, who were there to lift when you are about to quit. Those people are your tribe. Connect your heart to the present moment and step ahead. Your journey is where you want to be, your journey is to be happy at the end.
Francie Lynch May 2020
Who dares enjoy your gold with you?
What good is it Midas? It's contaminated.
When will you, if ever, enjoy it again?
Where is your preferred seating now?
Why persist with your follies? Don't touch me.
There are no shows, theaters, arenas, ports of call, restaurants, flights, etc., where the rich can spend their gold. And anyone who makes a profit out of our misery, may they have the Midas Touch.
Mystic Ink Plus Feb 2020
Listen carefully

It may deceive
Being novel
For the reasons unknown
Corona is contagious

Ahead of it
Or behind
Spacing in between

Trust me
You will be safe
Survivor's guide
The way it is

Genre: Clinical
Theme: Influenza
Clinical Note: Stay cautious, whom to keep distance, whom to get close.
Mike A Eyslee Feb 2020
The old immor(t)al wound
                                  He tak
                                  es a
                       Unaware of ichor
                     Power. Deceit. Malice.
                 co      urs    es  thro    ug
                 h                  h  is         v
                  e                  i             n

                 and  bleeds  onto  his w
sorry if it looks weird on mobile.
Mike A Eyslee Feb 2020
Devoted to your second hand
Your  electrifying
Admonishment   your   embrace   solidifying
a    swirling    technicolor    land
Meant along your path engroove,
          error receiver much to be desired
just a bit of inspiration. tried for some cummingsesque spacing imagery; wasn't in the mood for a traditional sonnet. i included a bit of wordplay, so have fun picking them out. and yes, on line 2 I intentionally used that form of "your."
Mike A Eyslee Jan 2020
Since feeling is first, and syntax is lies,
To enscribe you, my darling little jay,
I would have to ask, "Is there any way?"
Not of mimsy guise and anything-dyes,

But of nоnce-nonsense and everything-sighs,
Keep these thoughts pastiche on a wayward bay,
And perhaps leave them, removed on display,
Entirely altogether?

You are this fool's  ". . ."
". . ." as  '. . .' but  ". . ."
Lea ve me ". . ." on, a . . .

A skip!         for,
". . .   &      . . ."    "can"t; f o r get
(love ". . .") and you,
". . ."
inspired by some cummings (as evident by the spacing and the obvious allusion to his work, "since feeling is first"). also, "Jabberwocky" for the nоnce word. sonnets are annoying to write.
RedBerry Dec 2019
I hear you talk,
I see your lips moving.
The shape of your mouth forming letters after letters.

I smile and agree.
Eyes crinkle with mirth,
My voice booms in the space between us and the silence of the universe.

I see you,
I hear you,
But do I really?

I'm there, but I'm not.
I feel, but I don't.
I smile, when I feel pain
And I talk when I'm not sure what to say.

It's not me you're talking to,
But my body responding to you,
Like an autopilot.
#i didn't intend to publish this. But here you go...*awkward silence*#. #autopiltot
Vyiirt'aan Dec 2017
A blanket of

ample rigid structures

A liquid

             the   t   cold
        frigid   o   fragments
           ­   of   h   the


Where tufts gather in the sherbet of -frozen- dust

The glistening indigo amongst
the platinum

I shiver.

The cutting

admires the empty

for I stood

Gazing at the

Cut black.

In transparent fallacy
The temple of glass amongst the cold


speaking       to                  -me-
pointing                  g
lo­oking         at     n           -me-
         in an


i t n e v e r s l e e p s

celeste Dec 2017
i will not



a p a r t

to make someone else

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