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#alinnov2015
that blond girl with long long hair is a color of delightful luminosity glaring by a precise poetic sensuality of the tongue tapping the palate hitting the right note concurrently manifesting a tone an equivalence of a smile in all worlds She – made of lustrous transparent rose skin is a goddess of temptation the curling ice queen on a museum floor manifesting ****** to not believing eyes once dressed up in tightly packed dark clothing unfitting to the straight torso jutting out the shine of her far away alluring looks the porter of ancient nordic landscapes is her eyes which you’d choiceless fly through She – the divine breeze made to softly aerate angelic locks – innocence of youthful dreams joy may you call her laughter -unheard – freezing time rebuilding traces of an unlived dream She is here today to harmonize the thought chords attuned by the subtle passage made of blurry sets of colors and lines flowing at a readable rate   along the dark November backgrounds of an intoxicated Sunday morning Red is still red in the neon as if too early to be awake clock hitting the afternoon wall of fame signs rolling lonely to haunt ghosts of yesterday nights which have never come alive until they got brighter than the stars Dark that shall make the silhouettes forget and reanimate the never starting and neverending play of zombies looking for a pure soul always somewhere else failing to find one Flashes of illusion swept by the persistent horns to be replaced in their place not as divinity but as an administrative layer of impurity All replaceable at once while everyday stays the same while everyday they think is different except for the old man the old man doesn’t think wearing a cap sits there outside at the most invisible corner of an old theater café He sees everything he has three eyes He hears everything he has three ears He reads everything always the same newspaper turning the pages in the same tempo of this chimerical dream I am being observed I know while writing beside him and he says silently : I don’t wanna read yours but I can read you if i want to and he attempts to go many many times while I write I wish him stay as if keeping an admirer beside my words an anonymous faceless friend and I speed up as I walk fast with my pen I fly and he gravitates back to his chair again restlessly I want to finish this up quickly and walk away at once without even looking at him not even once that’s the perfect scenario I think mixing up a reality to a dream considering the urgent importance of this line makes me immerse and see nothing other than the self  but alas the traffic lights turn to green and She – the profile of my beauty queen holding a beaker to go raises her head dancingly arcs the neck and in slow motion throws a laughter to the air whose weight should be a blissful wiege for my loving looks – made of a shape of a missing of what I could have never been – halving her pink coat in well fitting blue to her jeans and she steps forward to fade away leaving me chained to the glorious gravity of this untouchable dream on this invisible island of mirrors which neither she nor anybody else has ever seen but me hopelessly sculpting now a reflection of an illusion made real through the weight of these words me is  a sad melody of an autumn leaf falling for her dream
0
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 5:56 PM UTC
Fall Bloom
that blond girl with long long hair is a color of delightful luminosity glaring by a precise poetic sensuality of the tongue tapping the palate hitting the right note concurrently manifesting a tone an equivalence of a smile in all worlds She – made of lustrous transparent rose skin is a goddess of temptation the curling ice queen on a museum floor manifesting ****** to not believing eyes once dressed up in tightly packed dark clothing unfitting to the straight torso jutting out the shine of her far away alluring looks the porter of ancient nordic landscapes is her eyes which you’d choiceless fly through She – the divine breeze made to softly aerate angelic locks – innocence of youthful dreams joy may you call her laughter -unheard – freezing time rebuilding traces of an unlived dream She is here today to harmonize the thought chords attuned by the subtle passage made of blurry sets of colors and lines flowing at a readable rate   along the dark November backgrounds of an intoxicated Sunday morning Red is still red in the neon as if too early to be awake clock hitting the afternoon wall of fame signs rolling lonely to haunt ghosts of yesterday nights which have never come alive until they got brighter than the stars Dark that shall make the silhouettes forget and reanimate the never starting and neverending play of zombies looking for a pure soul always somewhere else failing to find one Flashes of illusion swept by the persistent horns to be replaced in their place not as divinity but as an administrative layer of impurity All replaceable at once while everyday stays the same while everyday they think is different except for the old man the old man doesn’t think wearing a cap sits there outside at the most invisible corner of an old theater café He sees everything he has three eyes He hears everything he has three ears He reads everything always the same newspaper turning the pages in the same tempo of this chimerical dream I am being observed I know while writing beside him and he says silently : I don’t wanna read yours but I can read you if i want to and he attempts to go many many times while I write I wish him stay as if keeping an admirer beside my words an anonymous faceless friend and I speed up as I walk fast with my pen I fly and he gravitates back to his chair again restlessly I want to finish this up quickly and walk away at once without even looking at him not even once that’s the perfect scenario I think mixing up a reality to a dream considering the urgent importance of this line makes me immerse and see nothing other than the self  but alas the traffic lights turn to green and She – the profile of my beauty queen holding a beaker to go raises her head dancingly arcs the neck and in slow motion throws a laughter to the air whose weight should be a blissful wiege for my loving looks – made of a shape of a missing of what I could have never been – halving her pink coat in well fitting blue to her jeans and she steps forward to fade away leaving me chained to the glorious gravity of this untouchable dream on this invisible island of mirrors which neither she nor anybody else has ever seen but me hopelessly sculpting now a reflection of an illusion made real through the weight of these words me is  a sad melody of an autumn leaf falling for her dream
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108
There is a light we hold it shines -almost literally- from inside and illuminates like when the electric bulb first time realized the essence of its very source and Now still in a same fit for itself box enlightens the once a dark corner by the embracing romance of its truth As visible such a bulb is to eyes (and as such ) sensuous is this light to us when we  fully are and inside the heart and Now Whenever we breathe in asana the sun shines for the one receiving this blissful rhyme
0
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 5:54 PM UTC
There is a light
Oh why do you complain so ignorantly Oh why do you agonize so self adoringly Oh why do you hide behind your my -s  - cries -ties  -chimes -spies  -guise  -why-s -hives theorize and disguise with big vain eyes and lip bites why don’t you instead analyze recognize tranquilize and surrender just to neutralize so that you can minimize and fly to skies and glorify wise fireflies exquisite butterflies and get their blessings to ionize don’t you know yet all elevated beings use their wings to alter dimension just while  I crystallize and womanize for you so that as we energize our vaporized do carbonize seeds that will stabilize unionize and re-rhapsodize the universe with our glorious lullabies
0
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 5:28 PM UTC
Rhyming I-s
we shall test once this ‘nothing is coincidental’ bias to sense all senses as if not ours to fill a bucket full of thoughts as if not ours to place the body temporarily in a tree as if not ours and connect these lines to a wireframe as the collaborative work of the ingenious director and the engineer both of which staged their dream as one complete piece not longer than all that could be perceived in one lifetime “so much work oh so much work still to be done …” s/he said in the meantime yet 5 minutes should  just be enough for that ...resolution without wondering and complaint you know what to do you walk the path like a tailor sleeping and waking up working on one garment just tagged as life tailor that will sleep and wake up until the garment is unpatched so they will disappear all together a garment that makes one invisible when cycles are dropped when autumn leaves shower to show off what they can do for me -jubilantly as I pass because I pass I hear the twithoo of the nobly circling wild bird resonating from far aways and depths of the valleys that are known so well to both of us one of us though  forgets sometimes:) She the bird of wisdom is there to remind me of who I truly am once again patiently by the sharpness of the sound that contours the visibility of the thick mist as friendly monsters of childhood dreams and I look up Sky is while you would be reading these lines No you can’t disprove me nothing is coincidental but I still like to play the coward sometimes and incidentally ;) hide under the safe blanket of your poetry making it a patchy garment of you and me that will be dropped someday non coincidentally for one love only
0
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 5:03 PM UTC
Incidentally
we shall test once this ‘nothing is coincidental’ bias to sense all senses as if not ours to fill a bucket full of thoughts as if not ours to place the body temporarily in a tree as if not ours and connect these lines to a wireframe as the collaborative work of the ingenious director and the engineer both of which staged their dream as one complete piece not longer than all that could be perceived in one lifetime “so much work oh so much work still to be done …” s/he said in the meantime yet 5 minutes should  just be enough for that ...resolution without wondering and complaint you know what to do you walk the path like a tailor sleeping and waking up working on one garment just tagged as life tailor that will sleep and wake up until the garment is unpatched so they will disappear all together a garment that makes one invisible when cycles are dropped when autumn leaves shower to show off what they can do for me -jubilantly as I pass because I pass I hear the twithoo of the nobly circling wild bird resonating from far aways and depths of the valleys that are known so well to both of us one of us though  forgets sometimes:) She the bird of wisdom is there to remind me of who I truly am once again patiently by the sharpness of the sound that contours the visibility of the thick mist as friendly monsters of childhood dreams and I look up Sky is while you would be reading these lines No you can’t disprove me nothing is coincidental but I still like to play the coward sometimes and incidentally ;) hide under the safe blanket of your poetry making it a patchy garment of you and me that will be dropped someday non coincidentally for one love only
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74
I meet you in a globule beyond worlds - beyond perception - beyond body and mind I meet you there in our melodic silence inside an uncollapsible sphere to continually refract our illuminating plain light and reflect along the perpetually manifesting membrane of our ever evolving   ever changing color codes when we imagine we make love endless coordinate points join to sculpt this dream it is visible along this subtle interface as the fugitive perpetual color of true love I come here and see you just inside the divinity made by us you and I on a brow we are beyond the eyes we shall always meet as the complementary formula evenly made anew by you and I and  here we have always been axiomatically you are I so let’s forget and return to our lives again on this plane we shall write the experience peacefully apart  in each other’s presence to gravitate and untouchably reshape   our garments which shall be dropped someday not as a fate in the hub of this supreme orb made of the sound of our eternal peak we are as if two separate selves trails of my illusory dance shape all your dream girls until that all fades like in the true blue of the sky all in one I am now for you and you you do for each of I as if you are you ...you ...you of all and with whom I am in love
0
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 6:51 AM UTC
Iridescence