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Man 5d
Think it a wound
That has been cut open,
All of this
Pouring out of some person.
As blood like ichor.
Of Uranus a pouch, a receptacle, a quiver;
Time in consumption,
Like an arrow autochthonic
In the breast of existence.
Nursing the young.
Of Cronus a reflection, a refection, a ripple;
Time in digestion,
Like an innominate derivation
From the navel of continuance.
Bringing them up.
Of Zeus a reverberation, a spark, a sliver;
Time in expression,
Like an aborted secret
From the honey of speleothemas.
Shaping them out.
Of Apollo a radiance, a ray, a participle;
Time in extension,
Like an auspicious countenance
From the mucilage of angiospermae.
Birthing the echo.
There was more to this, perhaps I'll finish it.
Ylzm Aug 7
If I speak truth without knowing until later when affirmed, then I know it was another.

If I speak truth, yet woven in it are greater and deeper truths, constructed without intent nor awareness, then I know it was another.

If my simplicity conceals a manifold complexity with greater simplicity, ie beauty, then I know it was another.

If what I wrote or said long ago is ever new, surprising and constantly inspiring with each re-reading or re-hearing, as if they are living and ever growing, then I know it was another.

If every thought is not only consistent with all that's revealed but reveals yet more, especially that most subtle but utterly profound, that I cannot help but believe that I've transcended into a realm beyond all earth, then I know it was another.

If it is what it is, is so familiar, like one knew from long ago, and never apart, inseparable as soul and spirit, heart and mind, that it's mere shadow is sufficient for proof, then I know it was another.
Laconic Noor Feb 1
Surmise too often, likely a sheer redundancy, unduly supposition went south I'd slump it from high.
Curious? I'd throw down the gauntlet; fathom me out throughout the time of hesitation.
Ken Pepiton Sep 2023
Lift. Lofty wish to see,
good smoke.
Man, this is really going out on a limb, fruit flies
wise, look at us how nothing we are,
if you happened,
if you occurred on earth,
where mountains stand wind watch,
and catch fat clouds in old frozen winter passed.

Passing fantacy, as children, fit story's told
to rain and wind and fire, older now than we imagine,
but… yes, that is so, we make nothing we imagine,

we create by recreational efforting, you may imagine
a pleasant interchange, exchanging
as we exude true wonder, worth the effort, looking
farther than our minds can hold as mine, we own this.

As soon as owning taps the child's will to claim more,
than the knowing - awe state,
and the knowing of the cost, to first willingness,
and the doing,
the climb, each upward efforting will, paid, in full.
Septembers collect in new ways, when we use our Assisted Intelligence,
to fish in thoughts so long forgot we find ourselves uncovering old waters
Mateah Nov 2022
"You're so sweet!" "What a cutie!"
Is that the best you can do?
Those are defaults and fillers
I don't want to hear that from you
I want you to point out the things
That the general public don't see
The sides to me that surprise you
Normally masked by timidity
You get to see my lion
But still recognize my lamb
Tell me I'm so much more
Than strangers might think I am
There is a fervid spirit in me
But it's cloaked in a subtle attire
While the entire world calls me simple and sweet,
I need you to call me
A wildfire.
John McCafferty Jan 2022
This gentle flow takes control with perfect form, dark eyes match and connect in the same breath.
Warmth spreads from head to your *******, lower realms swirl in the depths. Skin glistening.
Bubble up, subtle touch, fingers search inversed.
Would rather tingle your thighs in line with my neck, criss crossed in ****** to snap.
Head tilted back, quiver and spasm as your chasm erupts.
Hushed sighs in a rush collect.
Congruent thoughts mix in our heads, mind *** fulfilled through this text.
Open your legs as your soft lips kiss with delicate sweat, thinking in sync when you stroke the same sense.
All from the chest.
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Jason Drury Sep 2021
“Keep your nose clean”

His intent was momentous.
An ant like phrase,
with mountainous exorcism.

“Keep your nose clean”,
His voice like Zeus,
thunderously subtle.

Echoing and vibrating,
through regret, sin,
and fueled debauchery.

This phrase kept me true,
on-course through,
dark seas.

A map to navigate,
knowing when,
to steer away.

“Keep your nose clean”
I hear him still,
his voice sobering.

“Yes, grandfather.”

“I will”
For my grandfather
Dave Robertson Jul 2021
I had to move the leaves to see it,
verdant, strong leaves no doubt,
but in the way, all the same

The subtle, spectacular beauty:
a gesture, a colouring, a quiet profound thought
nearly lost to louder voices

Some may see a seeming protection
but deep down will know:
showing, not telling, is queen
Melody Mann Jun 2021
Moonlight cascades down her spine highlighting the subtleties forgotten by sunrise,
Masking realities flaunted by recognition,
Soft corners celebrated at midnight's call.
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