#murmur
s o f t m e m b r a n e s
d r i f t i n g
t h r o u g h p a l e c o r r i d o r s
a
t r e m b l i n g
a p e r t u r e
t a s t i n g
d i s t a n t
m u r m u r s
s h i f t i n g
t r a n s l u c e n c e
f o l d i n g
i n t o
i t s e l f
q u i e t
p u l s e s
b e n d i n g
a r o u n d
f o r g o t t e n
c o r n e r s
a
w a n d e r i n g
s h i m m e r
b r u s h i n g
u n n a m e d
t h r e s h o l d s
t h i n
c u r r e n t s
s p i r a l i n g
t h r o u g h
m u t e d
w a r m t h
r e s t l e s s
g l i n t s
d i s s o l v i n g
i n t o
p o r o u s
d u s k
a
d r i f t i n g
f i l a m e n t
s e a r c h i n g
f o r
s u b t l e
f r a c t u r e s
h o l l o w
b r i g h t n e s s
s l i p p i n g
b e t w e e n
t r e m b l i n g
v e i l s
s l o w
a r c s
u n r a v e l i n g
a c r o s s
u n c e r t a i n
d i s t a n c e
f r a g i l e
c o n t o u r s
m e l t i n g
i n t o
w a n d e r i n g
h a z e
a
w a v e r i n g
h u s h
t r a c i n g
i n v i s i b l e
t r e m o r s
Dec 14, 2025
Dec 14, 2025 at 10:59 AM UTC
we can never experience silence
our unquiet minds seek solace
in the noise of our creation
from the hum of the womb
around us as we grew
to the murmur of traffic
past our window
the rhythm of life plays
our tune
silence would be deafening
it would **** us all
Feb 7, 2024
Feb 7, 2024 at 6:29 PM UTC
[To Mary C.]
I've met again a violin and a piano in a cooperative anguish of a story.
To reminisce
(Or is it "recall"? "Reminisce" is only laced with joy)
Your love for that black and white ministry of music that I believe there is
And taste it together with notes of those honey strings before which I shiver delightfully instead
Make and made a prompt haste and nostalgic astrae longed to be left by a human's bed.
Just to let you know and sense,
I'm having and feeling you too on my thoughts and oh so unspoken words of laced understatements,
Right on that Rainy Song dúo.
I'm sure you're sleeping tight.
But no harm done.
It's better this way. Not binding you to your face, calling you without name or reason.
Really, hope my act doesn't creep or leave out, it's form and prolonging chaotic and loud
It is that "God-like" state who makes me a mute lovesick fool, a wannabe paramour to any of your kin, who wants to pepper kisses on each tear and stare in each other's eyes for hours with no matter bespoken.
I'll leave simply my note at the table,
Like one leaving the other in the bed before dawn.
No "I'll stay" nor "I'm leaving",
Tinted with tenerezza cazza.
No explaining, the void necessary for the sense of reason and authenticity bigger than the material the literal.
Don't get up, don't bother, sleep tight, don't rise.
Just be aware you were on my mind, may that make you rise.
Experience ya later, not see ya later,
In salty waters our stars I now fight to see in the dark at that signs of the clock without glasses on.
I wish to finally dispose of needs of my vessel for at least those few holy moments clad in ombré.
Have the dearest night,
Goodbye.
~
PS Don't look for sense, don't name it or trap it, just let it experience you, kiss you and have it. Dismantle, dismantle the logic together before it becomes a sicario forever.
Eyelids closing and ending
Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 5:26 PM UTC
Shiny summer day
Under vast blue sky
Murmuring honey bee
Moving over velvety petals
Enchanting Melody of its existence
Reposing the joy all over in empty heaven
Apr 19, 2019
Apr 19, 2019 at 7:50 AM UTC
Silver light’s broad smile,
Breeze murmurs season’s greetings;
‘Surrender to peace’
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 2:09 PM UTC
The murmur of the sly hours seize
Panting the breath into violent grief,
Love that disdains
Leave anyone in despair.
True link thus detests,
All things in the world disdains
Other than dear ones loving heart.
Love must ever be known for sincere
That sincere love looks upon
Mutual striving towards each other
And the intensity of love looks upon
Being upfront in and out
With no taboos
In sweet surrender.
And the language of love looks upon
The cravings to meet each other in the eyes,
Desperately seeking to tell the love
And stare at each other until communicated
And love be spoken as they meet
And retreat in sweet dreams
Like shining stars.
Love is of the kind related to mind.
Falling in love is such a wonderful feeling;
It shines like a diamond
Inside of the mind.
When heart is broken, love is more cruel
Than diamond particles slowly gaped in
And times merriment forsaken.
If love is not timely sought,
Pain will never cease
And pangs of death imminent.
Love is not a gossamer in dew’d grass
But a magic web of encircled kindness.
Love is of the kind related to mind.
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 11:37 PM UTC
drum beats to murmur,
a lull in nightlong rain rage;
wind’s bugle again!
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 5:47 AM UTC
My heart's not what it used to be
My heart feels something strange
Something goes and makes it flutter
Not necessarily in a good way
My heart is like a little kid
My heart likes to play around
Something goes and makes it skip and jump
Not a game I like to feel
My heart doesn't like me much
My heart throws temper tantrums
Something goes and makes it close on me
Not very nice to know
But my heart is my heart
It might be a little unwell
But it is mine
And I think I'm getting used to it
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 1:24 PM UTC
Who is there when the screams turn to silence
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 10:36 PM UTC
Two broken hearts
When they come together
They bleed out
From their fresh scabs
And they turn black
As the warmth from them
Trickles down
Dripping scarlet
Into our thoughts
And into our sanity
And we look down
At our intertwined fingers
As we scratch the backs of
Each other's heavily scarred hands
A murmur, our words
So porous and empty
They're carried away by the wind
"I love you"
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
In every one-word world, exotic spaces' gradual state of life proclaimed as a melon . As the urges to divide the pleasures of the infernal forth from the happiness which has closed in to the square-shaped restless less rolling boxes. And what the treat is if all of the souls from the cypress take the higher breaths of the shrew and belabor them unto the points of humanity, uncivilized humanity that is quite bountifully.
During this autumnal abscission where the alizarin and pallid arms and edges, crooked and afraid, steep in the sullied tatterdemalion and the mysophilia that emimart
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:13 AM UTC