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The Boy Apr 2023
Don't open your eyes to the blinding tip of that sunrise;
Your pupils are still far too dilated and still so drunken by the darkness that is the night

Don't take a whiff of that morning breeze;
Your sinuses will surely get clogged by the lies pollinating amidst the morning fog

The pretences of your so-called destiny serve only as an agent of blindness through which the ancient scribes of your true being have been twisted and forged into a sad stew of highs unreachable, lows and unthinkable and pains unspeakable.
All you can do is raise your glass and rush to wash it all down with a taste of the hollow hate that remains in its place.

It is a beautiful day nonetheless; so take a seat at the table where the wildness of dreams and endlessness of possibilities have all come through to eat.
But this is what I have to say to you:

Don't fall in love, child of the night;
Love won't set you free!

Lover of stars that illuminate even the deepest most eternal pits of your own being,
Don't fall in love;
Love won't set you free!

You already are all you need and all you'll ever need to be, so this is a warning I'm begging you to heed:
Don't fall in love;
Love won't set you free!
'Love' is a placeholder for the many things we use to make us feel the warmth of love when love eludes us.
Moholo Kawahi Jul 2020
Your mind, your body, your soul
Your smile in my sky the light of the most shining star
Your mind high and bright and sharp as the song of a sitar
Your body, flesh of desire, well of pleasure
Your soul, pure, true, in perfectly balanced measure.


Your mind, your body, your soul
All mine to have through infinite threads of real love
Save for the hardened reality here above,
That each absence pulls me back to my loner's trove.
Subconscious vapors of lucidity whisper into the depths of my soul.  Pleading Pleiades, daughters of Atlas, exhale mythical wisps that wander in the constellations of my mind anointing me and by their
decree I am Divine.
More illusions of grandeur
Jami Samson Sep 2013
Bleed before I eat,
I must make the carvings deep,
Then cram 'til they fade.
#33, sept.12.13
K Balachandran Feb 2015
Fire is in his eyes, in the pit of his belly and  *****,
a fire ball he is, zooming through the sky of desire,
the longing for her transforms in to a roaring fire
within him, it untiringly rages, slowly gets sublime

It warmed him, blood coursed in force through
the veins like a river full of molten lava, with a mind,
he was blazing his trail, with accelerating creative urge
lovers of beauty saw him as a firefly of high skies
brightening  vast expanses of inner sky, like none else did
she was the serendipitous spark lighted him thus
the fuel that propels, the 'anima' behind his phenomenal drive

He was burning to find a moment to commemorate,
this fire, his desire for her, not a bit less even after all these years
unexpectedly she appears, at the moment that thought occurred,
she smiled, it's radiance fell in to his psyche, froze as a golden idol,
Wasn't it what he desired? She getting etched as the spirit of a smile!
When I am most confused,
I can feel a profound sense of happiness,
Within debilitating sadness.
It is the sublimation of emotions.
Jodey Ross Oct 2014
My mind has been on a roller coaster of sublimation.
Turning to mush as I get called crazy.
Not doing any thing about it because I'm, quote, lazy.
Wishing I could turn back time.
Wishing they weren't so sublime.
Now I'm all alone in the nation.
Nothing left but sublimation.
leonard gorski Sep 2014
I paid homage to Beauty’s altar
Not conscious that is only skating-rink or…
“Downhill ecstasy.”
And still ignorant: how is possible,
Than good God leaving us at pray of Beauty,
Which paralyze those, who sacrifice own fate.
And I fell astonishment and grief
That life is a line of renunciation
Steady expose on suffering our tender senses.
Finally, punish that way: showing others suffering
Whereas ours are just sentimental tears…

Where is the Beauty
Which affect and same time sublimate ones?

Where is the place for
What fills our self
And leave deep inside emptiness …

Who’s going to judge this?

— The End —