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Andrew Name Apr 2017
after three wildest hours
and forty four raging minutes
sitting up alone
with no witness

how can I quietly sleep
and evade to dream
any thorn-apples, foxholes
mulberry trees

in oddly detailed scenes
and the like sequence of visions
that chase me at will
shredding my precision

I better go somewhere else
but treat me well
when eyes need to rest
electric lights cannot help

so I've burn the cane
tonight on a boggy shore
and pallid fire came
and high above owl roared
last line, the most important one of a poem, was found in a novel of forgotten siberian writer)))
M Harris Mar 2017
Photochromatic Sanity & Fluorescent Visions,
Metallic Vanity Initiating Phosphorescent Collisions,

Luminescent Effervescence In Her Iridescent Constants,
Convalescent Spells Of Her Tumescent Transplants,

Auroral Apertures & Acronycal Fractals,
Floral Kisses Of Her Quintessential Portals,

Velvet Transitions & Twilight Transmissions,
Reverberating Vocal Inhibitions Of Her Satellite Renditions,

Razor Rivers & Rogue Delights,
Shining Laser Echoes On Vogue Nights,

Molecular Suicides In Abysmal Desires,
Drowning In Atomic Oceans Of Her Ethereal Reprisals,

Static Pulses Of Her Prurient Delights,
Amorous Impulses With Hymens Of The Night,

Shaded Whispers & Livid Overtunes,
Serenaded Ceilings In Her Vivid Offtunes.

Condensed Rainbows Over Her Silk Citadels,
Slithering With Oblivious Love Of His Ghostline Vessels.

Extinct Hemispheres Of Her Tender Tracings,
Broadcasting Distinct Light-Years In Spiritual Casings.

- 03:50 AM -
M Harris Feb 2017
Flamboyant darkness,
Frameless frames.

Acetone visions,
Two tone transitions.

A night drenched in radioactive dreams,
Through slowing chemical split streams.

A million visions downstream,
Flowing midstream into mainstream,
Escalating the extremes off-screen,
Whirling into aquamarine.

Remorseless eternity,
A beautiful insanity,
Buried in tranquility.

For my heart is filled with celestial vengeance,
Her cauterized love stains,
Etched in me with her spectral prophets.
Reveries from her past,
Fragments built to last.

Sizzling me into a fragile sculpture
And echoes resonating & void the rupture.

- 02:59AM
M Harris Feb 2017
Curing sadness that never disappear when life has broken into pieces,
We agnize everything has gone so wrong.
Visually perceptive world revolving around me,
While I found myself in a stationary engagement ,
Merely to collapse without one single movement
As visions dilated on the far side of mental susceptibility.

My progressive journey begins here,
Through the alleys of pain with me inside my Heartache Memorial.

While I’m still drifting towards a light ahead,
Apprehension is on its way to devour.
But I am grateful enlightened that I’m alive,
And that I’m appreciative to be here to catch the last ride home,
Through the subway of lost dreams.
M Harris Feb 2017
A lust so cold
A grip to hold

An Indispensable Addiction,
Rupturing through my discretion.

A life of grey
Fabricating into a global fray

Engulfed in own winter
Creating a hinder

An unknown artery,
To a off beat past, build to last

Addiction taken a toll,
Infinite strolls

A radical high
Accolades pouring a hippie love

Can’t skip her extortion
Caused by her distorted visions,

LSD high,
Raptured capture,

A floating body,
Like a prisoner in her womb

Can’t leave, cuz I was buried eons back
What was meant for fun took its toll all over at once.
Alan S Bailey Jan 2017
I awoke each morning, without warning
They came from the front door,
And at night the candles were barely well lit,
They were silent and yet I couldn't
Ignore, this is...what is this?
A vile voice and angry specter
Filling my night with gloom,
Now all that was left, my empty space,
For horrors I would brace ,
I couldn't get them out of my face.
This each night they came again,
Banging cupboards while I slept,
Spinning sofas, shooting rubber bands.
They kept invading my dreams,
Upon my shoulder I saw a hand,
A reflection in a portrait of skulls,
A face of an old graying man...*
All of this and more. All of this sent me off my rocker,
I lost my nerve but couldn't settle the score,
I had no idea what they wanted. I was scared
Within inches of my life they were everywhere,
Like the scattering tiny feet of mice.
And a small little puppet twists his face up
Upon my bed, then a native over the same area
With Tomahawk ready, swinging over his head,
Huge spiders appeared upon the ceiling overhead,
And still I was somehow not aware at that,
But they drove me over the edge.
Her feet in the air while lying on the sofa, long hair,
A glaze in her eyes, hate behind the dark disguise,
It's sad to say I had no idea what I'd seen back then,
But it kept going on and on and on.
Close they always followed, they wouldn't let me be,
But I tell you for once a real haunting thing or three,
All I really know is they just wouldn't let me be free...
No matter what I know, no matter what I dream,
Every now and then something moves to scare me.
I know that it's weird and can't find proof or come close,
But all through the years it appears it was a "Gray Winged Ghost."
john shai Jan 2017
There in the hinterland
This people I know
Who love the sleeping sand
For its distant glow

A hut a hovel a house
The grinding of the glass
The hollow earth
And freedoms passed

Then lost.
They choo choo south
And boo hoo to any
Who try to close its hungry mouth
Alayna Mae Jan 2017
My name is not special, nor does it roll of the tongue
My time is spent wasted, instead of being young
My life is not easy or strong, but knowing I am alone still stung
And my heart craves for it to be un-hung

My world is always frustrated, no matter who I am around
My voice is never tough, but independent is the special sound
My mind is wondering so far, it took it turn to the ground
And realized that hell is my only home, with fire I drowned

My relationships struggle no matter what I do
My mental-mess breaks tension between loneliness and what I've grew
My lips part with words that mean nothing to others, no matter how hard I threw
And wanting it to be over so no one doesn't recognize my face and ask who

My feelings get mixed with confusion that hold me under
My love for him make me feel butterflies as thunder
My life is just work, no matter how much I wonder
And I just want to live and be set free and be in love for her
Angelique Nov 2016
t
r
  e
   m
    b
l
i
  n
           g
love pulls visions of colour
and
strikes yearning with fire
screams appreciation
with hints of adventure
yet
it leans heavily on a fist of risk
PaperclipPoems Sep 2016
Do you mean the ones who live on the other side?
Clear across the ocean, two miles in from the tide?

The ones that live with little means or the ones that live like we were meant to?
That work, play, stress, fear, and cry, just like we do?

The men who were created from the earth and the women from Adam's rib?
The ones who fall asleep staring at the same galaxies wondering if we're all there is?

Do you mean the ones in straw houses near dirt roads?
That learn how to survive on the land and wear the clothes that they sew?

Others and me,
I'm sorry, pardon me... I'm just slightly confused
Because when I think of them, I think of me
I can't separate the two.
ReflectionPoetry.com

Thanks for the topic!! It's a good one. :)
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